#which well i usually stick to humor in my writing so this is always scary but here we are

[delta-piscium]

@steddie-week day 1: Hunger | 1.1k words cw: light angst in that Steve is a little sad/dealing with some mental stuff but like hurt/comfort (not EDs which mental stuff combined with the prompt word might make it seem like, hunger is used as a metaphor)

Sometimes Steve doesn’t talk to anyone for days. He just shuts himself in his room and hides, barely leaves his bed. Pretends he doesn’t exist, or that time has stopped and he’s the only thing that exists.

Sometimes, he’ll go back too soon, feel bad for the ignored calls and drag himself out of bed to see the people who matter most to him. But it won’t feel warm and soft those times. He’ll be too raw and It’ll feel like they’re grabbing his insides and eating them. Pulling his heart and brain out of his body and devouring them without letting him eat theirs in return. 

Usually, he’s okay with that. He knows his place, he knows that’s what he’s for. For other people to get fed. And he’s happy to feed, to do that for them. 

He loves them, of course he’s gonna give himself over. It’s just that sometimes they take too much. They don’t know they do he thinks, they don’t know they’re eating him alive. That he’s presenting himself on a silver platter and letting them take take take, and that sometimes they take too much.

That’s why he disappears, so he can grow back. So he can give more. Because if he stops giving he's afraid they’ll get tired. He won’t be useful, he can’t give when he’s like that. He starts craving, he starts wanting. He feels starved and wants to take and feed too, and that’s not part of the deal. He’s not supposed to eat, he’s supposed to be eaten. So when he turns hungry and ravenous he hides, he isolates. 

Robin is the only one who truly gets this about him, who doesn’t take and demand. She gently accepts the things he gives and never without giving too, forcing him to stay whole. It’s overwhelming and sometimes he has to hide from that too, he doesn’t know how to deal with the force of it. He’s so used to the constant hunger it’s a shock when it’s gone but he’s gotten better. And anyway, he and Robin are part of one whole so whatever is given or taken between them is never really gone. It stays with both of them.

Robin is the only one, or she was the only one he should say. Because now there’s Eddie. Eddie who gives and gives and gives, almost as much as he does. But who doesn’t seem to dwindle and dim like Steve does. Who doesn’t seem to starve or hunger. Eddie who notices when Steve does, when he stumbles and gets greedy. Who holds him up and makes him whole with a look, a touch, a word. 

Eddie who breaks in through his window when he shuts himself in his big empty house and lays with him in his bed, softly telling Steve stories and running his fingers through his hair. 

It’s wonderful.

It's the worst. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna end up as empty as me,” Steve tells him, whispers it into the dark. “That you’re here now and you’re giving and I’m taking and you’re gonna be the one left with nothing.” 

Eddie doesn’t respond immediately but hums in acknowledgment, lets him know he heard and is thinking. 

“This is good for me too,” he says eventually, “being with you and resting. Getting to be here for you when you never used to let anyone but Robin be. It’s good for me too.” 

“It can be good and still drain you.” Says Steve, knows it to be true. He doesn’t resent giving the way he does, he loves it, it’s good. It drains him. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “this doesn’t drain me, you’re comforting me too. It’s balanced.” 

Balanced. That’s what Robin tells him too. That’s what Nancy sometimes asked him for when they dated and he couldn’t let her see the cracks. That’s what he wonders about with his other friends. 

He doesn’t usually know how to do that. He doesn’t know where the lines are. He doesn’t understand how Eddie knows. 

“You let me give, and I let you give, so it’s balanced. We don’t take from each other, we gift and we receive. It’s balanced. You have to let other people give sometimes too, Steve.” 

It hits something deep in him, the last words. He knows this, he doesn’t want to know it. 

“I’m afraid they won’t. if I open myself up to it. If I ask, I’m afraid they won’t.” He says it so quietly it’s almost inaudible but Eddie hears. 

His hands still in Steve’s hair for a moment before moving again, gently scratching his scalp. 

“I know baby. But that’s not fair, they want to give too. If they knew how much they took without giving back they’d be heartbroken. It’s not fair to you or them.” 

Steve lets Eddies words wash over him, he knows he’s right. They’d be nauseous with it. His sweet wonderful friends and family would be crushed.

“Sometimes it will happen, maybe,” Eddie continues when Steve doesn’t respond beyond a sharp breath in. “Sometimes people won’t know how to give after only getting but you gotta let them try. Sometimes they’ll learn and adjust, sometimes they won’t and you’ll have to deal with that. But you can’t starve yourself like this because you won’t let them try.” 

"What if I take too much?"

"Then they talk to you, like you should talk to them."

“When did you get so wise,” Steve snorts, his voice is tight but he makes the effort, tries to lighten the mood. Deflects, like he always does. 

Eddie lets him, a little, knows Steve has to. But he’s still serious when he answers.

“Wayne is like a never-ending well of insight and digging around in everything, never lets me get away with shit.” 

The opposite of Steve’s parents who were the first to take from him and never give, never look into his eyes and tell him to eat. 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve tells Eddie instead of weighing him down more than he already has. Instead of acknowledging and relieving the hunger pang that strikes him at the thought. Even now, here, he doesn’t know how. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “I’m here to relay his wisdom, like playing telephone with whatever stuff he teaches me. The things your parents took away from you.”

Eddie still knows, of course, he does. He always knows.

“And what do you get?” Steve has to ask.

“I get you. I get everything.”

Steve smiles, turns around to kiss Eddie. He doesn’t feel empty when Eddie kisses him back, hungry. When he takes and devours. 

#i didn't think i was gonna be able to do steddie week becuase it crept up on me and i haven't kept up #and i wasn't gonna post this but like i wrote this in like 40 minutes in a haze and then went on tumblr and saw one of the #prompts for day 1 was hunger and i had literally just written this thing where i used hunger as a metaphor so i went back and reread it #and did some edits and now im posting it #which well i usually stick to humor in my writing so this is always scary but here we are #this is so different from what i usually post but this is also representative of like 70% of my notes app i just dont share #this kind of writing but fuck it i guess #my writing #dels steddie thoughts #steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie week

[hannie-dul-set]

sorry but golden retriever sungchan x black cat reader is the only canon option! if you write a blurb on this pls i will actually kiss you in the mouth (ily btw)

[man on a mission]. jung sungchan has taken it upon himself to make you laugh at least once a day.

“you’re so fucking lame,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes, sitting in front of him at the cafeteria while he has two chopsticks sticking out of his nose. “gross,” you say, but the slight quirk of your lips and the way you quickly reach for your iced lemonade to cover it up makes him pump his fist in the air in victory— even at the expense of his image.

“ha! you laughed! i win.”

his other friends ask him why he even bothers. or, in the words of anton, “hyung, why are you so hell bent on making a fool out of yourself at least once a day?” but his motivations go beyond the selfish desire of proving that his sense of humor can even penetrate the moody and scary (i.e. you). sungchan has made is a mission to make you laugh every single day because of one single reason.

sungchan is simply sick and tired of people talking shit about you.

“it’s ridiculous!” he huffs, slamming both fists on the table after anton asked him the question. “they don’t even know them that well!” yet those same people call you bossy, call you a stick in the mud, temperamental and so on and so forth— which, sungchan has to admit isn’t all wrong. you’re always scowling or glaring or telling people off, but your love language is violence and words needled with spikes. sungchan is the only with enough fluency to see the tenderness in your light punches and your eloquent “fuck you’s” straight to his face.

no, he doesn’t want you to change. he doesn’t want you to soften up your edges just because of the thoughtless impressions of a couple dozen unimportant people. 

but it won’t hurt to see you laughing ever so often, right?

“oh my god, stop it,” you wheeze, hands pressed tightly to your face after sungchan shows you a dumb tiktok video he just saw, then imitating it with just as much grace and passion, causing you to snort out loud and burst into a fit. “fuck’s sake, i hate you so much.”

once more, mission accomplished. he forced you to tag along with his friends for dinner today, so that was a necessary move to break the ice— especially because anton is kind of afraid of you. seeing you out of your usual resting bitch face should ease their intimidation, and jung sungchan is proud of himself for a job well done seeing shotaro having a passionate discussion about a manga you’ve both read.

“no way, i couldn’t find a copy anywhere! can you lend it to me?”

there’s  a swell of pride in his chest seeing you talk so easily with someone else other than him. it’s nice to see other people finally seeing you in the same light as he had for the past couple of years. pride. yes. that’s exactly and the only thing he’s feeling right now.

“hey.”

but as your conversation with taro lengthens that you haven’t looked at him since laughing at his joke, and as eunseok discreetly calls his attention while staring at you from across the table with a look in his eyes that’s all too familiar— almost as if he’s looking straight at a mirror—sungchan thinks that maybe he should abort his mission.

“your friend has a pretty smile.”

he knows. he’s been trying to get everyone else to see it all this time.

#blurbs #had this thought in the bathroom huahahahahahah #sungchan x reader #jung sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan x you #jung sungchan x you #riize x you #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize fluff #jung sungchan scenarios #sungchan scenarios

[kingdaddydaichi]

NSFW Alphabet || Katsuki Bakugou

I had so much fun with this! Vodka may or may not have been involved in the making of this little ditty. 🍸 I hope you shameless hussies enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. 😩

*Exhibit A:

(Source)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he gets clingy asf, but plays it off like it's something he's doing for your sake. He'll probably never admit that he feels so vulnerable after sex, but he does. If it was a rough session - which it usually is with him - he'll ask if you're okay, if you're hurt anywhere, kiss any marks he left on you - he's such a protective hero boi.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: he's not gonna lie, he's fully aware of how well-endowed he is. He really is proud of his cock, the way it makes you sing when he works it - and he knows how to work it okay? Favorite non-sexual body part - his arms. He works hard to keep them cut (as in lifting, not cutting). 😬

Yours: listen, Katsuki is an ass man through and through. Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong, I'm 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 listening 👏🏼. He loves to watch the subtle ripples he sends through your ass cheeks when he's driving into you from behind. Also, our big scary boomboom man appreciates a nice, thicc pair of thighs. Bonus points if they're muscular/toned - he loves the way it feels when your thighs have such a strong grip around him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's just say our boy's orgasms are explosive. He cums hard and loud, shooting long ropes of his hot seed. Consistency is about average, not too thick, not to thin, but there's a lot of it. He doesn't taste too bad - salty, but not too bitter. You're more likely to gag from the sheer volume and force of his cum hitting the back of your throat than the flavor.

His precum gets honorable mention here. It's fucking delicious. That is all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It took him no less than 2 years into your relationship to tell you this, and if you ever tell anyone he might actually kill you, or at the very least make your ass bleed. He hasn't gotten to the point that he's ready to try it yet, but he's not entirely opposed to the idea of you pegging him. Someday. It kinda does make his balls tingle a little just thinking about it tbh. He hasn't yet, but he thinks he might be ready to try working up to it and is really close to asking you to stick a finger in his ass and stroke his prostate. He's heard how good it feels and he's super curious to find out for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, actually. He's only had 1 or 2 lovers before you, BUT he's determined to be #1 at everything. Couple that with how perceptive he is and you've got yourself a winner of a loverboy. He's going to make damn sure that, even if things don't work out between you two, he will always ALWAYS be the best you've ever had. No other man will outdo him, E-V-E-R.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle all the way, baby. As stated before, he loves watching your booty jiggle every time he slams his hips against it. He gets off on spreading your ass cheeks to watch his slick-coated cock slide in and out of you. God he just loves hitting it from behind, makes his dick so fucking hard.

Bonus 2nd Favorite Position (couldn't help myself): you on your back with your ankles on his shoulders, your ass lifted off the bed, him on his knees and hugging those thick thighs of yours, keeping them closed as he reams into you. (Slight variation of this one: he leans over you, nearly folding you in half, putting you back on your shoulders with his hands pressing into the mattress beside you, angling you such that his prominent corona rubs over your g-spot as he drills down into you. 10/10 you're gonna scream his name when (not if) your liquid gushes all over him.)

Tell me the truth, am I a disgusting human being? Here are all the fucks I give:

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bakugou is serious asf about his sex game. This is not the time to joke around or poke fun at him, understand me? If you do he will get pissed and either fuck the silly out of you, or if he's feeling particularly ruthless he'll just stop altogether and let you ache for him as punishment until you beg him for release.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his body, paying a lot of attention to his hygiene, which includes manscaping to keep his pubic hair trimmed and kempt. The carpet's just a shade darker than the drapes, like a honey blond. If he lets it grow out, it sticks straight out just like his head hair. It's actually kind of funny and he hates it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

*sigh* Let's be honest. Katsuki is not the super romantic type, at least not outwardly. However, if he realizes something he's doing is hurting you - physically or emotionally - he's going to stop dead in his tracks and hold you close, push his fingers through your hair, and tell you how much he loves you and how safe you are. He can be rough and he can be an asshole, but if he thinks he's genuinely hurt you at all, he's all over you, doing everything he can to make you understand that he will never let anyone hurt you, especially not himself. Got that?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off very often. You two share a very active sex life so he doesn't see the need to. If you have to be apart for more than a day or two, he'll rub one out. Or if the need hits him particularly hard and you're not available or in the mood, he's not above closing his eyes and reaching into his pants to wrap his thick fingers around his cock and start tugging.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Baby Jesus, where do I even begin? Kinky, kinky Katsuki. This man should come with warning signs and disclaimers.

First of all, he dom asf okay? Even if he lets you play with his ass someday, he's gonna be bratty about it. He's going to top from the bottom, hashtag facts. And trust that he WILL own you afterwards to securely reestablish his dominance.

Giving and Receiving: Hair pulling. DIRTY TALK - you think he's got a potty mouth in the streets? His mouth is downright filthy between the sheets. Loves it when you dirty talk right back to him. "You love taking my fat cock, don't you princess?" "Mm yessss, fuck me, Katsuki! Your cock feels so fucking good babyyy!" He eats that shit up.

Giving Only: Degradation. Praise. Spanking. Cockwarming. Dom/sub/power play. Shibari/ropework (he tried it bc you wanted to and he fucking loved it). Creampies. Begging. Discipline. Ravishment.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere inside your home/homes - bed, bathroom/kitchen countertops, kitchen/dining table, office desk/chair, any piece furniture is fair game really, up against a wall, washer/dryer, the fucking floor, ugh just all the places to fuck. Not one square foot is sacred tbh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Wear something that showcases the curve of your butt. Doesn't have to be revealing per se, matter of fact he'll get possessive as fuck if you're showing too much skin in public. At home/privately though? He can't help himself. Dat ass tho...he is going to smack it hard enough that it stings and that's final, understand?

Tease him. You can't be obvious about it though. If he senses that you're doing it on purpose, it'll just backfire. But if you just so happen to brush against his crotch when you squeeze past him, it'll drive him crazy. Go commando in short shorts/skirt and cross your legs just so, his dick will twitch. Even better if you do shit like this in public where you know he won't act on it. But when you get home you best believe he's going to dick you down so hard, won't even bother to take said shorts or skirt off.

His ears and neck are his most sensitive erogenous zones. Whisper in his ear or kiss his neck and he's going to grit his teeth in an effort to fight back the shudder that threatens to rattle his bones.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Let's get one thing straight. Katsuki Bakugou does not share. This is non-negotiable. He will not agree to anything involving additional people - cuckolding, threesomes, orgies, exhibitionism, voyeurism (unless it's him watching you pleasure yourself - that he will gladly do, and probably start palming himself in the process).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving and receiving. Giving puts him in full control of your pleasure, receiving makes him feel like you're worshipping his cock, which you probably are. Have you seen this man's cock? Of course you have. Gatdamn.

Y'all, Katsuki's so good at eating pussy. Like how does one get that good at eating pussy? I don't even know, but god the way he flicks his hot tongue over your precious, tiny bud before wearing it down like a fucking feed bag? It's unnatural. Like it could be his backup quirk if blowing shit up doesn't work out. You've seen the way he licks his lips when he gets excited, everyone has.* He doesn't even bother swallowing while he's feeding on you so you just be dripping in slick and saliva and he's just slurping away. It's lewd.

*See Exhibit A above.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You already know this, but I'll say it anyway. His go-to fucking style is fast and rough, dominant and relentless, hard and dirty. But every once in a while he'll want to take you slow and deep and passionate. He'll hold you so tight in his arms and chest, you'll have to tap his shoulder sometimes to let you breathe. And he'll just roll his hips so fucking thoroughly both of you will feel every last inch, his pubic bone rubbing your clit so hard. You've told him so many times how much you love it when he makes love to you like this, but he maybe makes it a rare treat on purpose. 😈 Little shit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are difficult for our boy. It's not that he's against them, it's just that he savors every drop of sensuality, he has a tendency to draw the pleasure out as long as possible. He can’t help it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The idea of having public sex turns him on, but he's only done it with you a couple of times when he was 10000% sure you wouldn't be caught. He can't risk doing anything that would tarnish his reputation and goal of becoming the #1 Hero. He might be freaky as hell, but he needs a sex scandal like an Alaskan needs a refrigerator.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He loves you long time. He's a Taurus for fuck's sake (well, Aries/Taurus cuspie, but that just sweetens the deal). Great stamina. Grinds you down like a whetstone. Can last as long as he needs to to ensure you cum for him as many times as it takes for you to beg him to stop. If he feels himself getting too close while you're blowing him, he'll stop you and go down on you instead. If he's inside of you, he'll pull out and start kissing all over your body, sucking, nipping, licking until his urge to cum passes, then he pushes it right back in and keeps going.

If on the off-chance he does cum before you, he'll be ready to go again in about 20-30 mins. Just give him some motivation, he deserves it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn't own any toys when you first got together, but you did. He hated the idea of you using them though, especially when he's right there with you. You've since assured him that you don't want to use them to replace him, but to enhance the pleasure. So now you do use them from time to time.

The first time you managed to coax him into using a toy together, it was a small wireless bullet with a remote. When you brought it out and showed it to him, there was a wild glint in his eye. He carefully inserted the vibrator into you, his cock slowly following suit. He loved the fact that he had complete control over this thing, but later complained because the sensation of it against the head of his cock made him cum too fast. He still wants to use it sometimes though. 😏

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he can be so unfair. He loves teasing you until you're begging him to put his cock inside you. He's not so much into orgasm denial per se; he just loves to hear you beg him for shit - to let you cum, to suck his dick, to stop fucking you when you're overstimmed, etc.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lol he's fucking LOUD! And he's going to make you cum so hard that you're screaming his fucking name. There was a time when one or both of you lived in an apartment and the neighbors would bang on the wall behind your headboard.

Shit, what sounds does he NOT make? He growls, moans, grunts, groans, yells, swears, fucks you so hard you can hear the wet sound of slapping skin, hell even the bed protests. Another reason he doesn't fuck in public - he can't stay quiet enough to be discreet about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, as much of a wild sex beast as he is behind closed doors, he gets embarrassed so easily when your sex life is so much as hinted at around others. It's legit funny how flustered he gets about it.

If he goes into work real tired and Kirishima says, "Hey Bakubro, you look like shit this morning. You and (y/n) stay up too late?" while doing the finger in the hole gesture, Katsuki will just "Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, or I'll blast your ass right through that fucking wall!"

Or if you two go out together with friends and the girls are talking about sex-related stuff, Katsuki will just roll his eyes and try to ignore it. But if one of them is all "So, (y/n), does Bakugou ever like accidentally let off explosions while you're doing it?" and you wink and say, "Only when he's especially *cough* frustrated *cough*". Katsuki will go red from his neck up to his hairline and start stuttering, sparks flying from his palms. "H-hey, d-don't tell them sh-shit like that! I-it's none of their god-goddamn b-business, (y/n), what th-the f-fuck?!" Meanwhile, you and the girls are in stitches while he stomps away, just mortified, bless his heart. When you catch your breath from laughing you'll follow it up with, "Looks like tonight's gonna be one of those nights", and you all lose it again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As has been mentioned, Bakugou's well-endowed. I figure he's packing about 7.5-8" in length x just under 2" wide. He takes some getting used to, that's for damn sure. Oh, and he's more of a shower than a grower. Like around 6" long x 1.5" wide when flaccid. Katsuki + sweatpants/basketball shorts = swinging dick print, alright sis? Take notes, this motherfucker visibly jumps when he does, class dismissed.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eh, he's surprisingly not ridiculously horny. Maybe a little above average sex drive? A lot of times hero work just takes it out of him and he comes home utterly exhausted and just needs a soft place to land, and you provide him with all the love and nurturing in your heart. ❤

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends, really, on the time of day and what type of day it's been. If it's late (like past 9pm lol) and he fought more villains than usual that day, he's probs gonna pass out pretty soon after. If it's earlier in the day - especially first thing in the morning - it gets him pumped and almost comically genki.

#i'm disgusting #loveitorleaveit #katsuki bakugou #boom boy #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki #mha katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugō #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #bakugou #alphabet #katsuki dropped a bomb on me #bombshell #katsuki thirst

[genshin-hours]

Hello dear! May I please have a Hunter and Survivor match-up please? Also if you'd like i'd be more than happy to match you with a hunter and survivor as well! Anyways, I love your blog and your writing! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I also have a very strong grunge style, like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, leather jackets etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines.

For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back.

I have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. Sometimes in the middle of the night you can find me just staring at a wall or something because I can't go to sleep.....I have trouble sleeping.....

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

hello! tysm for requesting, love! and you can of course :) ty for the offer btw, that would be lovely! also I hope you have a wonderful day/night as well <3 hopefully you enjoy all these hcs, dear ♡

I ship you with....

joseph desaulnier

so, I think joseph would really like you :>

joseph is one of the shorter hunters, so you being very small makes him lowkey excited

he loves letting you rest in his lap. he marvels at how small you are and how cute you look!!!

joseph gets the whole resting bitch face thing. he is told quite often that he has a bad case of rbf lmao

he also thinks your hair is really pretty, and if you're alright with it, he will offer to help brush/comb it for you or even style it. he is surprisingly good with hair. his hair isn't just fluffy and silky on its own, you know.

also joseph is pretty good at keeping you from doing like absolutely crazy stuff. he will make sure you don't get hurt, but the second he think you might he's gonna be yelling at you in french to stop or running to try and protect you from falling

and if you do get hurt, he is the first to provide you first aid. the whole time he is blushing and cursing under his breath. he is surprised by how bold and reckless you can be.

he loves your spirit and enthusiasm, but for the love of god, please be more careful

also, joseph loves your dry humor. he laughs at all your jokes. even if you're in matches and he is supposed to be serious

joseph also has a pretty "idgaf" attitude, so you guys will get along well. he is willing to fight for something he believes in too.

joseph isn't the best with emotions either, but this gives you both an opportunity to work together at it.

you both agree to come together and share what you're comfortable with to try and figure things out. tbh he is more likely to provide you with advice rather than consolation.

he thinks your accent is really cute, and teases you for it sometimes. but he actually thinks it's adorable.

also he will help you fall asleep by stroking your hair, reading to you, laying by you, etc. he is very comforting surprisingly

joseph is also probably scared of spiders but he will toughen up to get rid of them if you need him to.

(if the spider is scary enough though, you'll be hearing swearing in french and seeing another hunter coming to deal with it lmao)

I also ship you with luca balsa!

luca and you would be cute together!

he thinks your height is adorable, and he likes how small you are when you stand together

you're not too much shorter than him (only 3 inches or so) but it's really cute to him that he can lift you up and stuff or you can sit in front of him and he can lean on you.

he likes to be alone usually when working, though he wouldn't mind if you were to lay on his bed or sit on his lap while he works, but he needs you to stay safe so you're wearing a heavy coat and safety gear lmao

he thinks your style and rbf are adorable. you're not intimidating to him, so he thinks it's funny

luca also enjoys your humor, and he finds it relatable. he always laughs at your jokes, even if you make them at bad times

luca has similar habits to you though, which makes it easy for him to spot them in you and stop you quickly before things get bad

he himself is pretty reckless at times, but, he will admit, he is a hypocrite and panics when you do something dangerous, but turns around and works with dangerous equipment

you're both not the best with emotions, but he does his best to help you. he might not be the best at consoling you, but he will do what he can to make you feel better in his own way

he might tinker with stuff to improve it for you, or try to give you helpful advice

luca would think horror movies are super neat, but he analyzes them fast, and knows all the twists and turns. he still jumps though

he likes your accent and thinks it's pretty cool! he doesn't hear many southern accents, so he finds yours very neat and soothing to listen to

luca will take the time to help you fall asleep if you can't. he has some trouble falling asleep too, so don't be surprised if he accidentally passes out on top of you once you're asleep.

he isn't a fan of lightning and thunder, but some gentle rain and pretty clouds are lovely in his opinion :)

luca is also an entp, so you two would have plenty of lively debates lmao

#identity v #idv #identity v headcanons #identity v imagines #idv headcanons #idv imagines #identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv matchups #idv photographer #idv joseph #joseph desaulnier #idv luca balsa #idv luca #idv prisoner #luca balsa

[partialresonance]

Hi! You asked for Geraskier prompts. What about some fluff? Jaskier heard that Witchers can’t blush so he tries to make Geralt blush by complementing him ?

Yay, thank you for the prompt!! This was so much fun to write. :D

CW: mild innuendo, reference to beheading?? Otherwise it’s pretty tame. ~1.6k of fluff coming right up!

Jaskier is eighteen, and Geralt is quite the most interesting man he’s ever met.

Of course, he’s handsome too, which doesn’t hurt. But for the moment Jaskier is mostly concerned with the fact that he’s a witcher. Jaskier has heard countless rumors and tales about witchers but he never imagined he would have the chance to actually meet one. He can’t pass up the chance to confirm the truth of what he’s heard, straight from the source.

“Geralt, is it true that witchers can see through walls?”

Even though Jaskier has to jog to keep up with Roach and is only treated to a view of the man’s broad backside, he can hear the eye-roll in Geralt’s dry response:

“No.”

“Well that’s a shame. I imagine brothels would be quite interesting places if you could.” Jaskier’s lute bangs against the back of his thighs, and he hoists the strap higher on his shoulder. “Speaking of which, is it true that witchers have—ah, how to put this delicately—inhuman stamina?”

“I can outrun you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Geralt shrugs, and Jaskier puts his hands on his hips, his mouth twitching into a pout.

“You’re no fun at all, Witcher.”

What he won’t ask is if it’s true that witchers don’t have feelings. Jaskier had banished the idea as rubbish from the first, when he’d gone up to Geralt in that tavern in Posada and found him brooding. One cannot brood without feeling.

“Is it true that witchers can smell fear?”

At that, there is a telling pause.

“Yes.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Can’t imagine how that’s useful though. I’ve always found it quite easy to tell when someone’s afraid, they go all bug-eyed and their hands start to shake and they stutter a lot.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Roach flicks her tail, narrowly missing Jaskier’s face. He dodges to the side, stumbling a bit on the dirt path. “Some people are good at hiding it.”

Jaskier shrugs, uninterested.

“Hmm, what else. What else,” he taps his chin, trying to dredge up the other rumors he’s heard.

“If you can’t think of anything else we could walk in silence,” Geralt says hopefully. Jaskier laughs, shaking his head. The very idea.

“Oh! I’ve got one.” He picks up his pace, jogging forward until he’s far enough ahead of Roach that he can turn and walk backwards, keeping ahead long enough to see Geralt’s expression. “Is it true that witchers can’t blush?”

“Where did you hear that one?” Geralt looks unimpressed. He flicks the reins and Roach springs into a trot; Jaskier has to leap to the side to avoid the devilish mare. Thankfully Geralt doesn’t seem intent on leaving him behind; after a few paces Roach slows to a walk again, though Jaskier is huffing by the time he finally catches up.

“Oh, you know,” Jaskier wheezes, clutching a stitch in his side. He waves a hand vaguely. “Around.”

He’d heard it in reference to the only place on a witcher’s body blood could rush to, but, well. Geralt doesn’t need to know that.

“Yes. It’s true.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier squints up at Geralt. He wishes he was a witcher who could sniff out lies. “You know it’s illegal to lie to a bard, don’t you?”

Geralt doesn’t answer, and now that Jaskier has run out of questions his mind seizes on a new game.

Make Geralt blush.

“Hey, Geralt!” Jaskier swings his lute around and plucks a few notes. “You ever heard the one about the fishmonger’s daughter?” And without further ado, he launches into the most downright filthy version he knows. It’s barely even innuendo, containing outright descriptions of exactly what the fishmonger’s daughter likes to do with her catch, even including a few dramatic moans and sighs on Jaskier’s part because he is nothing if not an excellent performer. He keeps a close eye on Geralt’s expression, but to his dismay all he sees is the gradual tightening of his jaw and flattening of his eyebrows. By the end of the song he looks downright murderous.

“I’m guessing you didn’t like that one. Heh.” Jaskier plucks a discordant note, underlining his failure to please the witcher with his song, as well as rouse even the faintest of pink tones to his pale skin. “Well, not everyone has a sense of humor. That’s alright.”

Damn it. What could he do to make a witcher blush?

After another mile or so Jaskier is forced to admit that the sex angle simply doesn’t affect the witcher. He’d tried everything--describing some of his own conquests, real and imagined, and he’d even faked a limp and sighed wistfully about his night with the innkeeper’s son! None of it has any effect on the man. And, with a cruel spike of embarrassment that brings heat to his own cheeks, Jaskier abruptly realizes it’s because the century-old witcher likely has seen and done things he can scarce imagine. 

It’s all old hat to him, then.

“Have it your way then, you big old brute.” Jaskier consoles himself by playing his favorite songs at the loudest possible volume, his voice echoing off the canyons. He thinks Geralt has mostly tuned him out, until abruptly he wheels Roach around and makes a sharp gesture at Jaskier. His yellow cat-eyes scan the surrounding hills.

“Shut up, bard.”

Jaskier scoffs, and strums a few loud chords.

“Well you could at least ask nicely if you’re--”

An arrow stabs into the ground, an inch from Jaskier’s foot. Jaskier jumps into the air with a yelp.

Bandits seem to pour down from the hills, and Geralt and Roach charge in to deal with them. Jaskier, weaponless and frightened, darts off of the path in the opposite direction, down a small gully to hide behind a bush.

Well, he hasn’t lived this long by sticking around for the danger! Someone has to live to tell the tale, after all.

It’s over faster than Jaskier would have imagined. He catches glimpses of Geralt moving smoothly through the fight, a whirlwind of steel and white hair. The big witcher actually looks graceful, spinning on one heel and swinging his arm in a broad arc to lop off the last bandit’s head. Jaskier swallows, feeling odd and sort of warm all over.

When he’s certain the bandits are dead he doesn’t hesitate to scramble up the hill to where Geralt is standing amidst the carnage, sheathing his sword.

“Do people do that a lot?” Jaskier tells himself his voice isn’t that shaky as he brushes off the knees of his trousers and hoists his lute onto his back. “Just attack you out of nowhere?”

“Hmm.” Geralt stands from where he’d been crouched over one of the corpses. He slips their purse into Roach’s saddlebags, then mounts her in a smooth motion.

Jaskier wrinkles his nose at the corpse. He doesn’t usually see death up close like this--his experience is more of the ‘passing by the suspicious lump in the alleyway without looking too closely’ variety. He’s frightened, but with Geralt at his side starts to feel a little bit brave. The bandit certainly isn’t scary like this, with his stupid head lying across the path. He sticks his tongue out at the corpse and then jogs after Geralt and Roach.

“Well, they should know better, shouldn’t they? I don’t think you even broke a sweat.”

“Hmm.”

“No, I mean it. That was genuinely impressive.”

“Shut up, bard, or you’ll draw more of them.” Geralt turns his head away, but not before Jaskier catches something interesting in his expression. He jogs forward, until he’s striding beside Roach and level with Geralt’s knee. If he looks out of the corner of his eye he can just barely make out Geralt’s face. A sly smile curls his lips.

“Do people ever compliment you? Or are they too busy shitting themselves because you’re a big, scary witcher?”

Geralt stares straight ahead. 

“That’s a shame, really. Compliments do wonders for the self-esteem. I can’t go long without one before I simply wither away like an autumn leaf. And there’s so much to compliment you on.”

“Fuck off.”

“Geralt, I’m being serious.” Alright, so maybe he was also teasing a bit, but Jaskier’s voice took on a strident, genuine note as he turned his head to gaze up at the witcher. “What you did back there might seem like nothing to you, but I was terrified. If they wanted to kill me they could have done so easily, except you were there so now they’re all lying in pieces while we make our merry way on. Take that, bandit, you don’t need your legs!” Jaskier laughs and makes a slicing motion as if severing an imaginary bandit’s torso from his lower appendages.

“It’s nice, not to have to be afraid of whatever random asshole comes my way. I think I’ll stick with you after all. It doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes as well.” Jaskier winks. Geralt keeps darting his eyes between Jaskier and the path ahead. He looks distinctly uncomfortable, but Jaskier doesn’t think it’s in a bad way at all. “Big witcher man with your nice hair and all that muscle beneath your armor. You looked like you were dancing, you know.”

“Jaskier…” It’s a low growl, a warning, and it sends a shiver straight down Jaskier’s spine. He bites his lower lip to keep from smiling too broadly, and that’s when he sees it:

The distinct, pale pink undertone blooming to life beneath Geralt’s glowing (beautiful) yellow eyes.

Oh. Jaskier is in trouble.

He clears his throat, taking a few steps to the side and letting Roach get a little bit ahead of him. He strums his lute, a spring in his step as he follows his witcher, imagining feeling the heat of Geralt’s blush beneath his fingertips.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #the witcher #fluff #fanfiction #geraskier prompts #my writing

[bonvoyagenoona]

In the Margins (M) - Chapter 4 - Fall

Word Count: 13,338

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Genres: Writer AU / Writer!Yoongi / Editor!You / Editor!Reader / New Relationship / Fluff / Smut / Angst / Humor / Songfic (takes inspiration from Dear My Friend by Agust D)

Rating: 18+ / Explicit / Mature

In the Margins | Masterpost

In the Margins | Playlist

Author’s Note: Three additional influences for this particular chapter are things that I hold dear. The first is Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath. The second is Yoongi’s own take on BTS’s work. The third is A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning by John Donne.

But this is it, y’all. This story means so much to me. This is the first complete BTS fic I’ve written, and the first fiction work I’ve completed in a decade. It encapsulates everything that BTS and Yoongi and August D and ARMY have reminded me to prioritize: self-acceptance, self-love, openness to life no matter how painful it can be at times, and the resulting joy of finding others to connect with. We were born to be real. Not perfect.

Also, I wholeheartedly fell in love with this Writer!Yoongi (and the real Yoongi, who I suspect is a stronger bias-wrecker than I initially acknowledged). I am going to miss spending copious amounts of time wondering what Writer!Yoongi is thinking and feeling. So much so that I kept putting off writing this chapter, and then kept adding to it. It’s much longer than the others, and a lot of things happen, but I hope you enjoy this last thrill, and that this version of Yoongi continues to live on with you somehow.

04: Fall

Like with everything, you have a routine for getting ready for work events. You take a half day on Friday to get your hair glossed and nails done. You go to bed early. You wake up and putter around your apartment, and then you take a nap to make sure you have enough energy to mingle with the arts and culture scene that you hate-love for the entire evening. Around 4:00, you hop in the shower. You make sure to pre-pack your clutch with your tiny travel emergency kit, which contains a couple of painkillers and antacids, a needle and black thread, a detergent stick for food stains, and a $20 bill. After that, it’s two hours of hair and makeup set to your and Namjoon’s shared, and jokingly titled, Lo-Fi Beats To Schmooze and Sell Out To playlist. It doesn’t just have lo-fi beats, and it’s equal parts entertaining and empowering.

When 5:20 rolls around, you take a step back from the mirror and admire your loud, jewel-toned eyes and the skin-tight, long-sleeved black jumpsuit, with its plunging neckline and cinched waist. You aren’t always on point, but you can put yourself together pretty well when it counts.

The car arrives right on time at 5:30, and thankfully, traffic is sparse enough that you get to the gallery at 5:50.

The event isn’t set to start until 7:30, but you’ve budgeted in time with your event planning team to dot Is and cross Ts. You swap a couple of the flower arrangements. One of the food vendors had to bow out, but someone on your team pulled some strings for a good alternative. Soon, guests start to arrive, and staff take their places.

You hover around the front to make sure Yoongi is taken care of when he arrives. You start to worry when he’s still not there by 6:45, but thankfully, Namjoon is there, and he’s brought Tara.

Tara is exactly like Library Girl. She seems just as smart, just as gorgeous, and just as intriguing. It’s scary how easily she and Namjoon fit together, as if they were created that way. You gush about how great of a pair they make, but a part of you is sad that you didn’t get to pick out his tuxedo for the evening.

Namjoon steals a moment alone with you by the book table, standing beside you and watching the crowd start to build.

“Our biggest event yet,” he says to you, proudly.

“I know. Crazy. Have your guests arrived?”

“Yeah, including two of the rich investors that I met at that swanky conference.” He looks at you. “You need anything?” he asks.

“No,” you lie, as usual.

A server walks by with a tray of glasses of champagne, and Namjoon takes two anyway. He hands you one.

“Everything is fine,” Namjoon reassures you, reading your mind.  “This is his event. Yoongi’s got all the time in the world.”

“I know,” you say, but you still sound anxious.

“What is it, then?”

“I don’t know.”

Namjoon waits as Yoongi’s face flashes in your mind. It’s set the way his face looked when he left. Each time the image pops up, he’s in a different place or outfit, but it’s always wearing the same empty expression. You haven’t been able to work, sleep, shower, or drink your way from it. Yes, you are impulsive, but there are a handful of moments in your life, moments when it really counted, when you froze. Only in hindsight did you realize that they tended to be moments when you regretted it. You didn’t want to have another regretful moment with Yoongi.

“Tara’s awesome,” you say.

“She absolutely is. But don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. I’m saying… Tara’s awesome.”

Namjoon listens, like he always does.

“...How did you know?” you ask. “Y’know. Other than the sea life stuff.”

“Well, it was mainly the sea life stuff.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Me neither,” Namjoon says. “It was mainly the sea life stuff. At first. But then it went deeper. And there came a point where I just decided to give it a try.”

“Are you scared at all?” you ask.

“A little. Sometimes a lot.”

The way Namjoon says it so simply gives you clarity.

You feel him glance sideways at you before looking back at the crowd. “You know what really let me know?” he asks.

“What?”

“You.”

“Me? How?”

“You picked out the outfit,” he says, grinning. “You were there the whole time.”

You look back at him. “I’m just glad Tara has great taste in suits,” you say, trying to smile.

Namjoon turns his entire body toward you, stepping in front of you and shoving his face between you and the crowd. “Hey,” he says softly, bending his knees a little to meet you at your eye-level and fastening his pupils to your gaze. He grasps your shoulders. “I got nervous about that, too. But we never have to be scared about losing each other. Never.”

You nod. “It’s just been the two of us for so long, Joonie,” you sigh, fighting back tears. “I don’t really know how to be with anyone else.”

He hugs you. “One night, when Tara and I were having dinner, I just started referencing Professor Lee’s class out of nowhere. You should have seen the look on her face. I made absolutely no sense to her. She said it was like I was having a stroke in the middle of our conversation.”

“What happened next?” you ask, just barely holding it together. After all, you did spend ages on makeup.

Namjoon pauses to reflect. “I had to backtrack, figure out a new way to tell the story, I guess.”

You smile weakly. You can do that. That is already what you do.

Namjoon knows he’s won you over, and not a moment too soon, because Jungkook is texting you to let you know they’re pulling up.

You and Namjoon meet their car outside. Given everything you’ve just told Namjoon, he’s in his protective brother stance. But you’re back in your power stance like nothing happened.

And as Jungkook steps out of the town car, he gapes at you standing there and smiling, leering at you from your heeled boots up to your perfect mane. He dips back down to your showy neckline and lingers there. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, and his head tilts slowly as he takes you in. As he meets your eyes again, he strokes his chin with his thumb and licks his lips.

It feels nice to be the one to elicit that reaction from him, for a change.

Amazingly, he looks even more attractive this way, and it’s not just his impeccably tailored navy suit or crisp white shirt with a plunging neckline of its own. It’s the hint of lust in his eyes.

You hug him, and he says, “You’re a knockout,” so cooly that your skin tingles. You feel him rub your back not as a greeting, but as if he’s feeling for something.

You pull away. “You’re still obsessed with my bra?” you ask, smirking. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“I will always be obsessed with your bra,” Jungkook says, smiling so devilishly that you can’t help but laugh.

“Where’s your date?” you ask.

“He’s just finishing up a call,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi steps out of the car, putting his phone in his left inside breast pocket.

Now, it’s your turn to ogle. He looks so different. Honestly, if Yoongi turned up wearing hot pants, a belly chain, and cherry red hair, you would have still counted tonight as a success. But his hair is back to its natural black. And he has a new haircut. It’s shorter on the sides. And it’s actually styled? It’s wavy and more textured than usual, kind of like the day you got caught in the rain. You see three earrings dangling from his left ear. Did he have piercings this whole time? His suit has a wide black lapel and a funky, gray-gold-black square pattern. His simple black bowtie has a thread of gold outlining it, which matches his gold, square cufflinks. His tuxedo shirt is pressed, and his black pants and patent leather shoes are immaculate.

Yes, he looks different, and he looks fucking good .

Yoongi approaches slowly, joining you and Jungkook at the curb.

You don’t know if you should shake hands, or even hug, so you do neither. You tell yourself that this doesn’t count as a freeze, and you quickly usher Namjoon in to greet them.

As they exchange congratulations and pleasantries, you watch Yoongi from off to the side as you greet a few more guests on their way in. Yoongi’s eyes dart over to you every now and then, and he eventually pats Namjoon on the arm to excuse himself. You swear you see Namjoon and Jungkook fist bump before they head inside.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he says, softly.

The look that Yoongi is giving you is lustful like Jungkook’s, but there’s something else behind it, too. A different type of wanting.

“You look really good,” he mentions.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“Thanks.”

He opens his arms slightly, and you walk into them rigidly. But as soon as he places his arms around you, it feels safe enough for you to sink into him a little bit. His body feels so strong. He lets out a soft grunt when he feels you against him. Like he’s missed you. Being in his arms like this is mesmerizing. Both of you now somehow know something that you needed to know before walking inside, and it makes all the difference.

You pull away a little, and you notice a new detail. A teal and gold peacock feather pinned to a pocket square made of purple silk.

At the risk of looking too intimate, you place a hand on his chest, and then you run your fingers along the pocket square’s edge, careful not to disturb it. You look up at him.

Yoongi smiles sadly. “Jungkook made it for me. For tonight.”

You don’t know if tonight’s audience of the publishing elite will pick up on the heaviness in the air, let alone understand it. But maybe it’s better that way. Maybe it’s better that it’s a pocket square instead of a tie.

He takes your hand in his.

“Will you help me through this?” he asks.

With duty calling, you shift back into your power stance and angle yourself toward the front doors of the gallery.

“No sweat.”

In a few moments, you’re standing at the podium, asking everyone to give you just a bit of time to introduce you to the author that you’re celebrating this evening. The crowd is a sea of already-tipsy friends, co-workers, rivals, critics, and fans. With a group like this, in an industry that thrives on negativity, you point out that it’s strange for everyone to agree, but you all do. And that is because you’ve been brought together by this incredible mind.

You introduce Yoongi to the stage, and as everyone applauds, you make your way to Namjoon and Tara somewhere in the middle of the crowd. Jungkook yells Yoongi’s name from the bar, making Yoongi flash a gummy smile in spite of himself.

He sets a small notebook on the podium and clears his throat before speaking.

“What has he got in store for us now?” Namjoon whispers to you, excited.

You realize that you haven’t read his speech. You tell him so, and you both settle in to see how it goes.

“Well, I certainly didn’t think I’d see Kwan here after my last review,” he jokes. Everyone laughs, and one of the restaurateurs providing appetizers gives a wave to the crowd. You smile to yourself. Of course Yoongi’s charming as fuck in front of a mic.

Yoongi looks out at everyone. “I don’t really have much to say about this book that isn’t already between its covers. This story is something I’ve lived with for a very long time, and it wasn’t easy. I had buried it within me for so long that I forgot that stories are supposed to be told.”

He pauses. “I’m really grateful for this chance to tell it. And that’s what I want to do with this event. I want you to think of tonight as a big thank you to all of you for listening.”

A breath. He looks fondly at people in the crowd as he mentions them. “There are a few of you who played some special roles in getting us to where we are today. You may have given me my first writing job. You may have hired me for your food blog. For those of you who don’t know, Jungkook, my best friend, he actually sent the manuscript to Fig Tree without me knowing. And it all went downhill from there.”

People are gobbling up this story, and reporters are taking tons of pictures. Yoongi’s looking at Jungkook with a scowl, but laughing. Jungkook is leaning on the bar, holding two fingers of whiskey in the sky. This is a PR gold mine.

But for the first time at an event like this, you’re not thinking about that. Your eyes are steadfast on Yoongi, helping him round the corner and take it home.

“I know there are all these positive reviews and pre-sales coming in, and I’m thankful for that, too. It’s something I never thought I’d accomplish in my career, truthfully. I hope to build off of this success to tell other stories. I have so many. But I would be remiss not to share that I think the true metric of success for me is something more existential.

His eyes roam the crowd again. “I’ve learned through this process, and with a little guidance, that purpose is more important than the goal, and I genuinely find the most meaning from this experience in the connection that I was able to make with you.”

His eyes finally find you, and when he smiles at you, the apples of his cheeks shine in the stage light. “You helped me find peace where I thought I’d never find it. So, if all of this goes away, like it so often and inevitably does, please know that you have had a profound and indelible effect on me, and my purpose is to do the same.”

The crowd applauds, and your heart swells.

You almost want to sabotage the rest of the evening so that you can cut the event short and throw yourself at him in one of the back offices. But you play the game like the consummate professional that you are. You flutter in and out of people’s conversations, asking how they’ve met or learned about Yoongi, reaffirming whatever they say with some way that it’s connected to his writing. You pay special attention to people out for booze and sex and danger, and you drop some of the jucier, more scintillating tidbits from the book. However you get them there, you watch them all eventually wander to the signing table to get copies from Yoongi, who is signing as fast as he can. Everywhere, you’re meeting people from Yoongi’s past, raving about how amazing he is, how incredible you must be for capturing his essence, and how refreshing it is to see him opening up.

At times, you feel Yoongi’s eyes on you from the book signing table, and when you do, you do something to hold his attention for just a bit longer. Toss your hair and meet his gaze. Run your hand down the fabric of your neckline. Turn and show your ass with a little wiggle.

The crowd eventually dissipates, liquored up and in search of the next social hotspot, and it’s up to you and a few dedicated members of your team to do the last checks for the night. You do one quick run around the back exhibit. You pick up a couple of abandoned champagne flutes and down both in two quick gulps. Easier to carry back that way, you tell yourself.

“Want a full bottle from the bar?” Yoongi says from somewhere behind you. “Or just straight from the hose? In a trough, if you prefer? You’re a lady, after all.”

You smile to yourself. You turn around and see him walking up to you. “Is that the new, critical darling of the arts that I see?”

“No, I think that’s Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “Did you see the way that curator was hanging all over him?”

You share a laugh.

He takes the champagne flutes from your hands and gingerly sets them down on the floor. As he stands, he reaches for your hands. He holds them in his, running his thumbs across your skin, massaging your knuckles.

“Yoongi,” you sigh, and it’s all tumbling out of you. “That speech.”

He somehow knows to just listen. Like Namjoon would. Like you need.

“That night,” you continue. “I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

He brings your hand to him and places the back of your fingers against his cheek. He closes his eyes at your touch, then opens them again. No one has ever looked at you this way. Craving. It’s torturous. It’s wonderful.

“Why did you?”

You let out a breath and open your hand, holding his cheek and rubbing your thumb against his temple. “I was scared.”

"Are you still?” he asks, his eyes patiently watching you, his voice low.

“Yes.”

He’s about to pull away and slow things down, but you ignore the impulse to cool things off and instead, take his face in both your hands, and kiss him softly.

The corners of his lips turn up, and he kisses you back. He pulls you into him, and you let his hands travel to the small of your back as you slide your hands up his lapel and around his neck. He touches the tip of his nose on your cheek and watches for your reaction. You lean into him, wanting more. He kisses you on the same spot, and a rush of heat runs through your body.

He plants kisses in a path from that spot down to your jaw line, each softer than the last.

You think he’s going to land on your lips next, but instead, he places a hand on the back of your neck and leans your head back. He licks the trail of kisses and bites on your bottom lip, sucking it so hard that you think it will burst.

“Oh,” you moan when he pulls away.

He hugs you close to him, and you welcome the feel of his lean muscles against you. You kiss deeply now, and you soon feel heat at your core. It’s spreading. Fast.

“I wanted just you, but there were all those people,” he whispers.

You go a little slack-jawed, panting to catch your breath, and Yoongi bites his lip at the sight of it. He boldly moves one of his hands from your waist to cup the crotch of your pants.

A gasp escapes from your mouth. He’s feeling all of you, slightly digging his fingers to part your lips as best as he can and running his thumb across the fabric that is moistening at his touch.

“I don’t want an audience for the rest of the night.”

You start to shudder, and you hook the crook of your elbow around Yoongi’s neck for balance.

You whine warningly.

He gives you one slow, dreamy kiss as he brings his hand back to your waist. “Let’s go to yours,” he says.

You become those people you hate, the ones that spend weekends stumbling out of bars and going at it like college kids in the back of rideshares. Except you’re in a limo, and the rolled-up partition is a sign that you have some amount of decency. You don’t have much, though, because you’re perched on Yoongi’s lap, grinding down hard. Even through your clothes, you can feel that he’s growing bigger and bigger. You give yourself a mental high-five for your own outfit. Yoongi is kissing down the parts of your chest that are exposed, licking where the curve of your breast meets your sternum. As you grind, you start to hit a rhythm. His deep, sexy moans between your kisses are spurring you on, and he has to grab you by your arms and pull you off of him to make you stop.

“What the fuck,” you say, pressing your sweaty forehead against the cool back of the leather seat and gasping for breath. “That felt so good.”

“The car is parking,” Yoongi laughs, kissing you and zipping up his pants the best he can.

The two of you straighten yourselves up and thank the irked driver before getting out of the car. Perhaps the partition wasn’t enough, you realize, as the cool air wakes you up a little, bringing you to your senses. You pull out your keys from your clutch and lead Yoongi up the front steps. He brushes your hair behind your ear as you unlock the door. He lays a kiss at your temple. You’re finding that the further you go, the easier it gets to let him in.

The street lamp illuminates the first foot or so of your entryway, but there’s only darkness after that. You both step out of your shoes and move slowly through the living room to your bedroom, your kisses softer. Though, now that you’re in a more private space, Yoongi is getting handsier. He slips his fingers in the space between your collarbone and your lapel and runs them over your skin, sucking in his breath through his teeth when he feels your nipple. You suck on his neck as he palms your ass, grabbing as much as he can fit into his hands. You arch back as he runs his fingers under and between the backs of your thighs, pressing all of him against you.

You run your hands through his hair as he unbuttons his suit jacket and lets it drop to the floor. You pull him toward you using the collar of his now very wrinkled tuxedo shirt. He works at his wrists, and you hear the charming clink of his cufflinks on the glass coffee table as you pass it by.

Another unrushed kiss brings you all the way to the bedroom door. Yoongi pauses and says, “I’ve never even seen your bedroom.”

“Of course not,” you laugh, loosening his tie as he kisses your neck. “But that was kinda my fault, wasn’t it?”

Yoongi pulls away and looks at you sheepishly. “No, I mean, I just now realized that you have a bedroom.”

“Where else would I sleep?”

“I never pictured us sleeping ,” escapes from Yoongi’s mouth before he realizes what he’s saying.

You think you might come right there at the image of him daydreaming about you. The two of you. Not sleeping. “You’ve thought about that?” you ask softly. “About... this?”

“Fuck, yes, I’ve wanted this for a while,” Yoongi tells you in a growl. “Didn’t you know that?” He pulls you in even tighter, hugging you with his surprisingly strong upper arms, raising you to your tiptoes. A shiver of goosebumps travel along your entire body.

You’re intrigued. You place your lips next to his ear. “What kind of stuff did you think about?” lowering your voice to match his growl, and he breathes you in.

You run your hands along his belt and graze his huge, strained cock slightly, forcing him to suck in another breath and hold you there. You’re learning that you love when he does that. Seeing him react like this to you makes you feel alluring and special.

“Let me show you,” he says, biting his lip and going in for another kiss.

You fall back onto your bed, and Yoongi hovers over you as he pulls his tie and tuxedo shirt off. He glances at the bedframe, pleased with how gigantic it is. This is going to be fun, exploring all this space, exploring you.

And you, him. The smooth, light ripples of his muscles along his arms, chest, and stomach delight you. He had been hiding them under coats and hoodies and shirts two sizes too big. You’re almost angry about it, realizing that you had been deprived of so much that you could have had, and knowing that it was your fault that you didn’t get it. He lunges forward, parting your lips with his tongue to kiss you and pressing his cock against you. You instinctively wrap your legs around his torso, and he moans as he feels more of you pushing up against him. He runs a hand down your left leg and places the heel of your left foot just above his ass. He stays there, continuing his motions like the moon pulling the tide, crashing and falling against you, rocking deeply and slowly, and you might fall asleep at how comforting it feels if it weren’t for the urgent swell of need at your pussy.

When he pulls slightly away you protest, but he runs his hands along the sides of your body, pulling the fabric of your jumpsuit away from you. He takes in the sight of your breasts with curious eyes and a half-open mouth.

“Oh man, Jungkook would die,” Yoongi says, and you dig your heel into his back, eliciting a small “ow!” from him as you both laugh. He smirks and bends to your chest, running his tongue over you, going slow so as to savor you.

You sit up, and he helps you out of your top as he kisses further and further down until he’s at your hips. You spread open for him, resting your toes on the edge of the bed before moving your hips up so that Yoongi can get you down to just your lingerie.

“Oh man, ” Yoongi mutters to himself, seriously this time.

He runs his fingers over the thin, black lines sectioning you into delicate shapes. He kisses the smooth, shaved spaces in between, no more fabric shielding you from his lips.

“Do you, um, always wear…?”

He has a sad look in his eyes. Just like you did moments before, he’s tallying up the times he’s seen you and is trying to figure out how many of those times you’ve hidden this sexy little gem from him.

He tugs upward on the band at your waist, shoving the strip of cloth into your slit and against your clit, making you buck your hips. His mouth hangs open as he watches you.

It feels so good that you decide to put him out of his misery. “I just got it yesterday,” you moan, turning your head as he plays with you. He hasn’t missed out on anything. This is all for him.

"Mm.”

He tugs again, and you gasp.

“Did you think about me?”

“Yes.”

Another tug, another jolt of pleasure.

“You’re soaking wet.”

“I always am when I think about you.”

He licks his lips, and he hurriedly slips out of his pants.

You smile to yourself. A small part of you gets off on feeling like maybe you know more about how to do this than you thought.

But now, you’re fully getting off on Yoongi’s tongue following the lines of your lingerie. It’s a completely new sensation to you, tickly but deliciously wet and warm. He throws in another couple of tugs for good measure. As things build, he slowly pulls the strings of your lingerie down your legs, and you feel evidence of your desire dragging down your skin along with them. He puts his mouth on all of you, only you, just like he wanted, and it feels incredible.

You’re about to come when you realize that you feel only one hand on you, resting just under your navel. Your eyes pop open and you look down at Yoongi. He’s eating you out like he’s starving, grunting through his meal, and quickly stroking his cock.

“No, wait,” you say, sitting up.

“You OK?” Yoongi asks, breathless.

“Yeah, stand up.”

Yoongi straightens, and you sit up, spreading your legs even wider. You place your hands on his waist and pull him closer to you. He relaxes his fist and lets go, and you see just how thick and long he’s grown.

“Damn,” you say, and you hear Yoongi exhale.

You kiss his torso and look up at him. “Can I---”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Tell me, OK?” you say, nervously. “Tell me how you like it. It’s… it’s been a while.”

Yoongi nods and closes his eyes in anticipation. The shudder you feel through his body is the biggest compliment. Your tongue runs from base to tip steadily, and you feel him continue to harden. You swallow him, going as deep as you can, and letting the wetness in your mouth drip with as much abandon as you let your pussy.

You place your palms on his ass cheeks and grab little mounds here and there as you go. You start to spread them, fingers hovering tantalizingly close to his hole. You press a finger there, and he moans full-throated in that sensual, silky smooth voice of his. It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard.

His hand finds its way into your hair, and he grabs fistfuls as you move him up and down inside of your throat, fingers circling him in back. He tries his best not to move, maybe because it feels so good, maybe out of fear of hurting you, but he can’t hold back a couple of thrusts. You clench down on him on each stroke, and your fingers keep moving. When it gets to be too much, he grabs your wrists, throws them away, and actually has to take a step back.

“Shit,” he pants, running his hands through his hair, “I didn’t have to say a thing.” He steps back towards you as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smile.

He kisses you and pushes you onto your back.

“Wait, wait, wait. I wanna ride you,” you say, trying to get him to roll over.

Yoongi is more than happy to oblige, so he scrambles but lets out an annoyed yelp. He reaches behind him and pulls from your duvet the infamous manuscript, the spine of which has just jutted into his side. He moves to knock it to the ground with his elbow, but you grab it before he gets the chance.

“Yoongi! Be careful!”

“I’ll get you a brand new copy tomorrow,” he complains, clawing at you as you play keepaway. “A signed one, even. Apparently there’s a ton of them.”

“But there’s only one of these .”

“You’re right.”

Yoongi smiles dearly at you.

“God, you should see yourself right now.”

There’s enough light shining in through the gaps of your blackout drapes that you can see Yoongi’s face and the outline of his body. The way he’s gazing up at you is the same way his eyes saw only you during his speech, and it’s making you melt all over again. He looks absolutely exquisite in your sheets. You can only imagine the way he sees you, silhouetted by the light, clutching the manuscript to your bare chest. Is it really possible for someone to see you as exquisite, too?

You bite your lip, unsure.

“OK,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

Yoongi sits up, releases your fingers one-by-one from their grip on his pages, kissing each finger as he goes, and carefully places the book behind him on the bedside table. He turns back to your chest and kisses your breast, his hand massaging the other.

You grind and wind until you whimper in a dire tone, “condom, drawer”.

The sound of sliding wood, boxes rustling, and a wrapper being torn open cut through the thick air surrounding you.

You carefully angle the tip of his cock to rest against your opening, but when you try to slide down, it’s clear that he won’t fit.

Your eyebrows grow heavy with worry. You want him, now. But Yoongi’s confident smile reassures you. “No rush,” he whispers, placing his hand on you. He rubs you like he has been all night, and you let yourself get lost again. You rock back and forth and feel him slide a finger inside of you. Then two. Then three. You press your clit into the bend between his index finger and thumb, and he closes his hand, squeezing you. You squeeze him back, your hand gliding up and down his length already wet with pre-cum. The walls of your pussy tremble, and there’s a moment when you share a knowing look.

He helps you guide himself into you, and now, when you slide down, it’s just enough. He lets out a long, subdued, “Ooooh,” as your pelvis meets his and his cock disappears.

You involuntarily throw your head back. He’s stretching you out a bit more, further than you’ve ever gone. The mix of tension and pleasure is intoxicating. You take one of his hands and place it on your heart, his forearm resting in the space between your breasts. When it gets to be especially tense, your head lolls forward, and you suck on Yoongi’s fingers.

He runs his other hand through his hair, now drenched in sweat, as you fuck him, fast and hard.

Your thighs clap against his, and each smack makes Yoongi’s eyes clamp shut.

“It’s bad?” you ask, worried.

“Fuck no,” he sighs. “Don’t stop.”

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, continuing to remind yourself to be in the moment. You’re so used to monitoring and planning and evaluating. You had forgotten that this kind of thing is just as much about you trusting and enjoying yourself.

His eyes flash open. “I’m close.”

Good, you think. Because you aren’t able to hold out much longer.

He raises his hips, and you do your best to hover over him while he starts to thrust, even faster than you were going, and much, much deeper than he was. He lets out a groan, turns to his side a little, and leans on his elbow. He’s in you at an angle that catches you completely off-guard --- it feels like flares are exploding all around you. It’s impossibly hot, a warning sign.

“Oh god,” you whine. As you start to go slack, Yoongi props you up by holding onto your arm.

“Don’t wait,” Yoongi says, sensing that you’re holding back. “Take it.”

You shake your head.

He reassures you, “Please. Come for me. I want you to.”

Something is about to gush from you, and you’re practically convulsing already. Yoongi pulls you down to him and kisses you, running his hands all over you and in your hair. He holds you against him and moves in and out of you, your body completely limp against him, with you focusing all your energy to keep your pussy clenched tight.

He comes, and he lets his sobs out into his open-mouth kisses. Then, you let out a choked wail, and you finally, finally let yourself come.

Everything blends together. You forget where you are. You could be anywhere. You aren’t sure how long you take to ride each wave, or how long you lie there together catching your breath, but eventually, the rattling sound of a truck driving by stirs you.

You feel Yoongi lying underneath you.

“Yoongi?” you whisper lazily.

“Mmm?”

“Are you asleep?”

“Mmm.”

You smile to yourself.

It’s late morning when you wake, and Yoongi is no longer underneath you. You can’t figure out how, because you’re lying in exactly the same position that you were in the last time you were conscious.

You sit up and look for any sign of him, but other than the manuscript lying on the night table, you see no evidence of last night.

Feeling stupid and cold, you wrap yourself in your flat sheet and make your way to the shower. You turn it on, chastising yourself for falling for yet another guy who only wanted something from you.

Then again, you’ve been here before, and it’s something you know you can handle with time.

You let the sheet drop to the floor and climb in, welcoming the warm water on your skin. After you’re done, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off when you hear keys in your door. A list of who it could be suddenly scrolls through your mind, like your parents, or your brother, but you know it’s most likely going to be Namjoon, and he’s seen you in every state.

Getting ready to launch into an angry tirade, you walk into the living room, but it’s Yoongi that you see, dressed in his crumpled tux shirt and pants, hair a mess, carefully trying to lock the door back up without waking you.

“Oh,” you say, startling him. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved. You had already prepared yourself for rejection. You know it well. You aren’t really sure what a morning after looks like.

Yoongi peers at you, wet and covered by only that blanket. You try to hide a small smile.

“Sorry, I borrowed your stuff,” he says, blinking quickly and holding up your clutch. The thought of him in that getup holding your clutch in a line somewhere makes you laugh, but you stifle it.

“You didn’t have anything in your fridge. As usual.” He walks toward you. “I think I lost my wallet in the limo. I used your $20.”

“Where did you go?”

“Namjoon told me that you liked this place.” He raises his hands and shows you a familiar logo.

Yoongi has just enough time to set the coffee, croissants, and clutch down on the kitchen counter before you drape yourself around him, putting his hands on you where you want them, everywhere at once, grabbing at him so viciously that you might draw blood from his back.

He doesn’t mind. He wants you to dig in more. He kisses you back, grabbing your flesh wherever you choose to place his hands, but when he presses against you, you click your tongue and wince.

“Still sore?” he asks, pulling away from you and covering you back up with the bed sheet.

“I guess,” you realize, turning red.

Yoongi smiles. “Then we’ll take it easy today.”

“We?” you say, and Yoongi looks like he fears he’s made some sort of mistake. “I thought maybe you had work to do,” you explain quickly. “Or that you might want some alone time. Or that you---”

“Will you spend the day with me?” he asks.

You grin. “Yes.”

“Good. I was hoping you would.” He mirrors your grin, and you run a hand through his hair, bringing him to you to kiss him sweetly. So, you think to yourself, this is a morning after. And there will be an afternoon, and an evening, too.

You finish getting changed and ready in the bathroom as Yoongi lies on your couch, scrolling through his latest book reviews on his phone. He has on his clothes from last night, even the expensive suit jacket and tie that he conscientiously thought to hang up in your hall closet while you were asleep.

“Hey, did you know that I’m one of the top fiction voices to watch?” he calls out to you.

“Actually, I did,” you laugh.

“Hey,” he goes on, “did you know that my work is a breath of not-so-fresh air, the feel of your drunk best friend’s breath on your cheek, heavy with the weight of reality, no less beautiful or refreshing?”

“Oh, that’s beautiful. That’s gotta be Ari. His reviews are always so poetic.”

“ Dear My Friend describes the end of your first platonic love. Read it, and you might finally be able to get over it.”

You poke your head out from the bathroom. Yoongi is looking back at you meaningfully, his head hanging upside down over the edge of the couch. He smiles at you.

You’re smiling so big when you look back at your reflection in the mirror that you’ve smeared your eyeliner.

Yoongi pops up beside you, leaning in the doorway.

“Have I said thank you yet?”

“Uh,” you say, fixing the little bit of makeup you’ve decided to put on, “I think we both did, like, five or six times last night.”

“But have I said it?”

“...No.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, too.”

He stands behind you and slides his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, just under your favorite big comfy sweater. He places his chin in the crook of your neck and watches you, kissing your exposed shoulder.

“I was thinking.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“The manuscript.” He smirks. “What was it doing in the bed?”

“I was re-reading it,” you say simply.

“How many times have you re-read it?”

“A lot, obviously.”

“I mean after we went into production. Best guess.”

“I don’t know. 20?”

“Why?”

“Just taking stock.”

He grins. “You walk around like you’re this badass. But I know your secret. You’re a sentimental sap.”

“Am not! And you’re one to talk! You’re the one who gave it to me. A keepsake, remember?”

He dodges you. “During which read did you think it might be a hit?”

You turn around to face him and hold his face in your hands. “I knew it the very first time I read it,” you say, looking deeply into his eyes.

He wasn’t expecting that. He looks like he might cry, but he tightens his jaw. He blinks, and his expression changes.

“...Did you always read it in bed?” he asks suggestively, and he gives you the kind of kiss that tells you to give up on the makeup.

There were ten stops on the subway between you and Yoongi, once. But now, you ride the train together, sitting side by side, his arm resting just so on the seat behind you. Not touching you, but there.

When you get to their apartment, Jungkook is absolutely radiant to see you together.

You wait in the living room as Yoongi showers.

In Hatred in Haste’s place hangs a series of charcoal sketches of lines and swipes that morph into body parts overlapping, the centerpiece of which is the outline of a shapely, round ass. When you asked him how his night with the curator was, you weren’t expecting near-photographic proof.

Jungkook smiles splendidly at you, wearing nothing but his boxers. You notice the amount of charcoal smeared all over his limbs, his shirtless abs, his exposed thighs, and you put two and two together.

“Is that all you do?” you joke. “Collect old napkins? Roll around on some paper?”

“That’s art, bay-bee!” Jungkook says, with the most charming, self-satisfied look that you’ve ever seen spread across his face.

On anyone else, that look would be absolutely infuriating. But on Jungkook, it belongs, and it’s well-deserved. No matter how ridiculous the story behind it, the work is actually really, really good.

Yoongi shuffles in from the bathroom, using the end of the towel hanging around his neck to rub his hair dry. He’s wearing a silk maroon robe and brown slippers. A faint memory of your first impression from Yoongi’s writing floats to mind, the one about the cabin in the pines and the tobacco pipe. You like that maybe you had it right all along.

“Have you seen this?” you ask incredulously, and Yoongi joins you.

He grimaces. “I don’t get it. It’s just a bunch of body parts? Speaking of which, Jungkook, can’t you put on a shirt at least?”

“But it’s about the movement,” you say. You turn to Jungkook. “Like Duchamp, right?”

Jungkook can’t help but ogle you. He runs his hand over his gorgeous chest. “Fuck, that’s sexy. So unfair that Yoongi got to you first.”

“Alright,” Yoongi warns, shooting him a look before making a beeline back to his room to get changed and get you the hell out of there.

Jungkook turns back to you, scrunches up his nose, crinkles his eyes, opens his mouth in a gigantic smile, and points a thumb over his shoulder back at Yoongi as he hurries off. A light snicker floats out from his throat. It sounds like brothers teasing each other.

He sighs. “So, tell me. Did he get to see those tits?”

You and Jungkook share another laugh. He’s incorrigible.

“In all their glory,” you tease, and Jungkook lets out a playful whine, “but it looks like you had more than your hands full with that curator.” Your eyes flash back to the perfect ass on the wall.

Jungkook follows your gaze, and his eyes glimmer. “Oh, no, that’s me, darling,” he says proudly. “In all my glory.”

The rest of the week is a whirlwind of snapshots of you hanging out at your apartment, hanging out at his apartment, having dinners with Jungkook, Namjoon, and Tara. Inside jokes are explained; embarrassing stories are dug out; confessions are professed. But you’re too aware that the week will wind down eventually. There’s always some reminder of his upcoming departure, and the unknown future after.

There are heated moments when you feel the sudden need to have him pressed up against you, and he more than delivers. You love making him come. You love watching him come. When it’s soft and quiet, he moans through his orgasm, and it almost sounds like he’s singing just for you. When it’s really earth-shattering, he squeezes his eyes tight and sucks in his breath through his teeth, which turns you on all over again to hear. But whatever validation you get from those moments always seems to run out, and you’re left wondering if you’re enough for him.

There are also lazy moments, of which you have grown especially fond. There’s one toe-curling kiss in particular, when you’re both working from his and Jungkook’s apartment, buried in your respective projects. You’re sitting on the ends of the couch, your legs in his lap, and his legs propped up on the table.

You look up to see Yoongi lost in thought, brow knitted, lips pressed together. You smile to yourself, enjoying seeing his working mind in action.

But then, you move your legs across him in a particular way, and he is pulled back into the room. He looks down at your bare legs and instinctively runs his hand up your calf.

You’re looking back down at your laptop, but a hand is traveling up the outside of your thigh.

“Yoongi,” you warn from behind your screen.

The hand now pries its way between your thighs, dangerously close to you and your building passion.

You do your best to ignore it, but the sound of notebooks and pens falling to the ground make you look up from your screen, and Yoongi’s smiling at you, moving toward you slowly and kissing you so softly.

“Come here,” he says into your ear.

“I have a deadline,” you remind him.

You roll your eyes and move to shove him off, but then he does the thing that he does with his tongue, just in your ear.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, as you shiver.

Yoongi half-laugh, half-moans, satisfied with the reaction he got. “Come here.”

You shut your laptop and set it aside as he kisses you. He lies behind you on the couch, gripping you to him, rocking his body against you. He whispers what he’s feeling into your ear, licking your neck, nibbling your earlobe. His arm is around you and pressed up against your breasts, his hand grabbing and then releasing, grabbing then releasing. His other hand travels down your stomach and slips into you. You raise your leg and bend it a bit behind you, and Yoongi holds your knee, tracing circles in the back of it as you go. He fills you up, and you pour back onto him. It’s all so gentle and undemanding, easy and good.

The point isn’t to come. But you remember him coming so sweetly, cooing into your ear. You remember coming and feeling like doing anything else is a waste of time.

You think the same thing will happen the day before he’s set to leave for the tour. Early morning rays are cracking through your drapes, but you’ve been up long before them, lying awake and staring at the ceiling. You can’t decide if it’s out of anticipation or dread. When the alarm rings, Yoongi finds you with his lips, and you lie there, kissing him softly. But he doesn’t run his hands all over you. He lets go of you and, with his eyes still closed, he says, “Go start your shower. I’ll start the coffee.”

You’re replaying the non-starter in your mind when you’re sitting at your desk at work.

“How are you doing?” Namjoon asks.

“Fine.”

“Things going well with Yoongi?”

“Fantastic.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re editing the newspaper.”

You blink and look down at the highlighted and red ink-stained front page of that day’s news.

You sigh and let your head fall do the desk with a soft thunk .

“You know, things would be so much easier if you would just answer my questions the first time,” Namjoon says. “How are you doing?”

“Not great.”

“He’s only going to be gone for six weeks. He’ll be back before you know it.”

“You know how book tours are,” you reply. “There’s wine and sex at every turn.”

“Doesn’t he write for a food blog?” Namjoon asks, his devil’s advocate hat on again. “I mean, that’s his life already, isn’t it?”

“Wow. I didn’t think I could feel stupider after you pointed out the newspaper, but then you hit me with that.”

“Wasn’t it months ago that he almost went with a different publisher, and all it took was one call from you to change his mind? He just keeps showing up. He fixed my lamp, for crying out loud.”

“It’s not just the tour,” you admit. “I was listening to the bestsellers podcast this morning on my way in, and there are already rumors that movie studios are preparing for a bidding war. They’ve even got actors tweeting about it. People want Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok to play Jimin and Taehyung.”

“Huh, I would’ve thought Seokjin would make a better Taehyung.”

Your head hits your desk with another soft, sad thunk.

“Lighten up!” Namjoon exclaims. “How are you not feeling great about this?” His pupils may as well be dollar signs. “This is everything we’ve dreamed of!”

But it’s also everything that every writer has dreamed of, you think to yourself.

And you are going to lose him to it.

When you get home, Yoongi is waiting in your living room, dressed in a black suit. You’ve been in a terrible mood all day, and seeing him look so fancy and professional and fucking desirable is worsening it.

“Hey,” he says excitedly. He jumps up and embraces you, and you relent. He plants a sweet, much-needed kiss on you. “I have a surprise for you!”

“Did Seokjin call?” you ask, but Yoongi obviously doesn’t understand.

“Who? No, c’mon, go inside and get dressed. There’s an outfit on your bed.”

“Wait, how did you get inside?”

Yoongi holds up a key. Attached to it is your grad school’s blue koala mascot. You remember orientation day, how you and Namjoon had talked about the koala being the perfect mascot for a bunch of dorks who only want to sit in trees and consume leaves of pages, and that, in a very insignificant way, it factored into your decision to attend.

You suddenly need to catch your breath. You can’t decide if it’s betrayal, or a gift.

“OK,” you say. “Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going?”

Yoongi smiles, tight-lipped.

You set your things down and go straight to the bathroom to freshen up, fix your hair, and do your makeup, but you realize you haven’t even checked to see if the look you’ve put together matches whatever outfit is on your bed.

A small “oh, wow” creeps out of your mouth when you see the expensive, red dress laying on your made bed.

You change, and when you realize the dress is skin tight, you naughtily decide not to wear anything else under it. To avoid lines, you tell yourself. You have trouble with the zipper in the back, so you walk out to the living room, and Yoongi’s mouth hangs open as you cross to him on the couch.

“Can you?” you ask, turning your back to him and holding your hair up to keep it from getting tangled.

Yoongi stands, and you hear him clear his throat. He reaches down and sees the top of your naked ass cheeks in the V of the fabric where the zipper starts.

“ Fuck ,” he whispers, and you smile to yourself. He clears his throat again. But instead of taking you right there and then, he obediently, albeit slowly, zips up your dress.

“You guessed my size?”

“Tara helped me out.”

“It’s a little tight.”

“Mm.”

The zipper clicks into place at the top of your spine.

He drives you to the fanciest restaurant that you think you’ve ever seen, but instead of parking in the front, he circles around to the back into the alley.

You shoot Yoongi a confused look, and all he does is grin.

He ushers you through the back entrance and into the kitchen, where one of his chef friends greets you.

Yoongi lifts you onto a clean cabinet, out of the way of the frantic hustle and bustle. He leans on the cabinet next to you, his arm resting protectively just behind you, but not daring to touch you. But he looks up at you, and there’s a soft but excited look in his eyes, like he’s been waiting to share this with you for a while. The chef introduces herself, and you recognize her from posts online. You can’t believe what’s happening as more and more plates are brought over to you, incredibly complex dishes with backstories and cultural histories missing from the menus that everyone else is reading in the dining room.

The meal is so good that you want to quit your job and just do this with Yoongi, just sit in kitchens all over the world and listen to him use his deep, slick, carnal voice to discuss texture and taste. But there are moments where he’s pouring you more wine, or feeding you a piece of dessert, and you are reminded that your time with Yoongi could be drawing to a complete close.

Eventually, it’s time to say goodnight, and you amble down the back alley, side by side, back to the car.

“Someone’s grabby tonight,” Yoongi laughs, as you pinch his buttcheeks.

“Someone’s been dined and wined,” you mumble drunkenly, as you run your hand over his chest and under his suit jacket. He laughs as he takes your hand and kisses it, but he doesn’t let it go any further.

Nothing happens in the car, nothing happens when you park outside of your apartment, and you think something might happen when he gets out of the car to follow you to your door. But then he kisses you lightly and says, “Well, goodnight.”

“You aren’t coming in?” you let yourself say, and he smiles.

“You want me to?”

“Well, yeah. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I am.”

He sighs, and you see a fracture in the sheen of the lucent image he’s projected all night.

What’s going on?” you ask.

“I just… Nothing. OK.”

When he looks back up at you, it almost looks like his eyes are brimming with tears.

Your heart drops. You take his hand and bring him inside, kissing him over and over again, telling him how much you’re going to miss him, and he says it back sorrowfully.

You start to unbutton his shirt, but he takes your hands away and does it himself. You claw at his pants, but he slips out of them without your help. He helps you with your zipper, but he leaves it to you to peel off your dress. And you lie in bed naked, but he keeps his boxers on, climbing in next to you and hugging you softly.

You wonder what you did wrong.

You knew it wasn’t going to last. You could tell by the way Yoongi’s face looked when he woke you gently with his thumb on your chin, saying, “My ride’s here. I have to go.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you asked, as he traced his finger down the side of your body, over the curve of your hip.

“You looked like you were enjoying your sleep,” he said.

You looked up at him to say something, but he kissed you. “Bye,” he said. "Go back to sleep."

Now, it’s been a week, and you’re pretty sure that will be the last thing you hear from him. You’ve only gotten details about the tour from Yoongi’s new press agent. He sends you pictures of Yoongi with fans, shop owners, critics, students, and, increasingly, celebrities. People are buying two, three, four copies of his book at a time. He’s on the precipice of something bigger.

Yoongi hasn’t called or texted you. More evidence that his next chapter will not include you. To be fair, you haven’t called or texted him either. But it’s OK. You won’t need to. You know what this part of it will look like. The slow fade. The day easing into night. One night, you’ll be eating take-out in your living room, and you’ll have some fleeting thought of him. You’ll realize it’s been ages since the last time that’s happened. You’ll realize you have moved on. You’ll know because you’ve done it before.

But you don’t realize that things have started to change.

It happens so casually. Namjoon is away on a research trip with one of his writers, and you have the office to yourself. Sejin comes in at around half-past eleven with some tea and mail for you.

One envelope catches your eye. There’s no return address.

You open it up and pull out a white, paper square with flowers embossed on it.

A napkin. With writing.

There’s more. One is thick, white, and rectangular with a restaurant logo on it. Another is unremarkable but stuck to another one like it, dried together by the bottom of a drink. They all have Yoongi’s handwriting on them. You spread them out on your desk.

The first stop of this tour and I already hate it. Why do people want so many pictures with me? There’s one on the book jacket. Just use that one. Cut it out if you want.

Today, I chose to read the excerpt with the phone call in it. I know it’s a bit too late to admit this, but, you were so right. The crowd was thrown, and they loved it. But the refreshments here sucked.

Reading A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning and thinking of you.

You wonder how many times an envelope will change your life.

Over the next few weeks, more notes come your way. There’s one from a bar.

After-party drinks at some club. I hate clubs. People complain that they’re too loud, but I’m glad the music is drowning out these insipid conversations.

Another, from a bookstore attached to a museum.

Pretty sure Jungkook would have appreciated this place a bit better. Every sculpture on display is made of black metal twisted into eldritch shapes, and I’m getting the heebie-jeebies.

One from the smaller bookstore that he chose for the seventh stop, and you get your answer as to why.

We’ve gotta visit this place. It’s amazing. So many awesome finds. I sent one to you. Hope you like it.

A couple of days later, a priceless, first edition copy of The Bell Jar arrives on your desk.

You take it home and stare at it while lying in bed. You run your hands along the spine. You wish it were Yoongi’s.

You find your phone and check the time. It’s not so late that you’d feel guilty for interrupting Yoongi. You decide to call him. Then, you decide to send a text first.

But then, you freeze.

Your first edition copy of The Bell Jar is one of the most beautiful things you’ve seen until you see Yoongi’s tired eyes brighten at the image of you standing by the airport exit. He does his best to keep cool and not fly over to you with reckless abandon, but you still note the slight quickening of his pace.

He reaches you, breathless. “Well, hey there.”

“Hi.”

“Is that my hoodie?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And my sweatpants.”

“Yup.”

“So you’re just taking my things now?”

“Yes.”

You turn and start walking toward the parking lot.

Yoongi grabs his luggage handle and follows you. “I thought a car was going to pick me up? Did we make plans to meet instead?” he asks, confused.

“Nope.”

You lead him to his car, and you unlock the doors. To explain, you jingle Jungkook’s spare keys. The astonished look on his face is hilarious. Imitation is the best form of flattery.

He reaches out for the keys, but you get in the driver’s seat. “Hurry up,” you say, closing the door, and Yoongi frowns.

He walks around and opens the trunk to put his suitcase inside, but he misses the feel of grime under his fingers. He looks at you through the rearview mirror. “You had it cleaned?”

“I cleaned it,” you say. “That’s why I borrowed your hoodie. My clothes got wet.”

You don’t see it, but the mention of you in wet clothes makes Yoongi gulp. He closes the trunk and follows along with whatever it is you’re doing, made evident by him getting into the passenger seat without any further questioning.

You ask about the tour, and he regales you with so many stories. Stupid ones. Funny ones. Meaningful ones.

“His parents showed up,” Yoongi says.

“They did?”

“Yeah. They bought three copies. One for each of them, they said.”

You study his face before looking back out to the road.

“What’d they say?”

“They said they needed it,” Yoongi says, surprising even himself. “They said they felt everything again, in a good way. I took them to dinner. We talked it out. It’s been six years since I’ve seen them.”

You smile sadly.

“I missed you,” he says, finally, as you park in front of his and Jungkook’s apartment.

You turn the engine off and linger in the car.

“I missed you too,” you say, turning to him and handing him the keys back.

Yoongi pulls you in for a kiss. His hand climbs up your arm and into your hair. He cradles the back of your head and pulls it toward him, mashing your lips into his. His other hand reaches down for the hem of his hoodie that you’re wearing, eager to lift it up. It feels so good that you almost forget that you have something to say.

“Hold on,” you say forcibly, pulling back.

“No, no more waiting,” Yoongi says, tugging at his hoodie on your body. “Let’s go upstairs. I want you.”

“Oh, so you want me now?”

Yoongi looks at you, hurt, confused. The way he adjusts himself suggests he also has a raging boner, but what you don’t know is that he’s actually had it since he saw you in his hoodie. Maybe knowing that would have made this next part of the conversation a bit easier.

“The notes were beautiful,” you say, “but they don’t make everything automatically OK.”

“I also sent you that first edition Sylvia Plath,” Yoongi says, straight-faced. “What about that?”

You bite the inside of your cheek so that you don’t smile. You aren’t going to lose this game. “You didn’t call or text.”

“You didn’t either,” Yoongi reminds you.

“I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Well, I didn’t want to push you.”

“The Plath wasn’t pushing?”

“No, that was just a gentle suggestion. A $10,000 gentle suggestion.”

Your jaw drops open. “It wasn’t really $10,000, was it?”

Yoongi finally smirks. “You’re the editor. You tell me.”

“How about you tell me something."

"Like what?"

"Tell me why you didn’t want to sleep with me the night before you left.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, and he studies your face.

“You took me to this incredible dinner, and I threw myself at you, which is not my usual move, and you just fell asleep,” you say. “You didn’t even wake me up until the very last moment before you left.”

It’s hard to get the words out. “Until I got your notes, I thought you were over it.” You’ve never been this vulnerable before, and the terror is rising from your core up to your throat. You don’t know if you’ll be able to say much more.

Yoongi returns, “I thought you still weren’t sure.”

“About?” you ask.

“Me.”

You stare at him. You tell yourself that he’s caught you off-guard, but you also know that you’re trying to be gentle with yourself and soften the blow.

“How can you say that? I was lying naked in bed with you.”

“But I could still feel it,” he says. “It felt like the day I kissed you. That week, before I left, we’d be talking, or hanging out, and you’d go somewhere suddenly. You’d just go blank. You did that throughout our dinner. I didn’t want that to be how we left things.”

It hurts to be called out like this, but you know you need to hear it. You don't know where your blind spots are.

“Where would you go?” he asks, curiously. “When you’d go blank like that?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “My mind would drift to the tour.”

Yoongi’s resting his elbow on the seat back, his head in his hand, pinky touching his cheek. He patiently listens as you collect your thoughts.

“I think I was scared to enjoy it too much,” you say, “the time that we had before you left.”

“Why?”

“It’s every writer’s dream, a tour like that.”

“Are you kidding? I hated almost every minute of it.”

You smirk. “Well, I know that now. But I thought that once you left, you’d see more of the things that you’ve always wanted. All these cool, vibrant people surrounding you in these bookshops. Actors tweeting at you in case you make your book into a movie. More things, and better things. I was... bracing.”

“You were saying goodbye,” Yoongi says, nailing you. “I didn’t want to say goodbye that night. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you.”

Feeling sheepish, you meet his gaze. “I was afraid you’d get back and realize you’d outgrown me.”

“All I could think about was you,” Yoongi says, no trace of a waver or uncertain change in pitch. And you start to believe him.

He reaches for you again, but you place a hand on his shoulder. “So what’s changed? Why are you so eager to jump me now?” you ask, with a grin.

“You’re in my sweats,” he says hungrily. “You’re driving my car.”

He kisses you deeply. Each movement he makes is another reassurance. It’s clear that he cares for you. But the part that you struggle with is that you have to let him in.

His hands find their way to your stomach again. “The first time I came over, you told me that you trusted me. Do you?” Yoongi asks, running his hands under the fabric and looking up tentatively at you.

“Yes,” you say, and you start to believe yourself, too.

He kisses you again, running his hands up your torso, surprised when his hands meet your naked breasts. He looks like he’s about to make some quip, but you kiss it out of him.

His hands make their way around to your back and down into the waistband of the sweatpants of his that you’re wearing. There’s no other fabric there either, and Yoongi’s eyes flash open, his eyelashes fluttering against your lips. You moan as he runs his hands across your bare ass, slipping his fingers between your cheeks.

There isn’t enough time to get to Yoongi’s room. You instead rely on muscle memory from your younger days to angle into the backseat of the car. As Yoongi crawls, he glances out the windows to make sure no one is around.

You straddle him, and you feel him growing underneath you. He hooks his thumbs into the band of the sweatpants and pulls them down and off of you. You reach for his jeans, but he keeps you from unbuttoning them.

“I want you to come,” Yoongi says.

“I want that too,” you smile, reaching out for his pants again.

“No,” Yoongi persists. “Tell me, like you asked me to, like we did the first time. Tell me everything. Let me give it to you. I want to.”

There’s weight behind his words, and you understand. You stop and look down at him. His eyes and lips glow in the streetlight, but the rest of his face is obscured by the shadow of the side of the car.

“Don’t hold back from me,” he says, softer now, reaching up to you.

You catch glimpses of his cheeks and jaw when he moves, as he talks.

“Be with me.”

Each kiss with Yoongi grows more heated and passionate. You feel electric, like tonight will be transformative. Transcendent.

He plays with his sweatshirt on your body, its fuzzy cotton grazing against you slowly as his hands roam underneath. He brings his hands up your sides, lifting the hem of the hoodie over your breasts. He nestles there, kissing and sucking gently.

You arch toward his tongue, pressing down harder on his cock, and he supports the small of your back as your head rests on the center console. His mouth feels magnificent on your skin.

He starts to rub on your pussy, and you grind against his fingers.

You start to whimper lightly, and Yoongi’s breath hitches as he gets an idea. He raises your waist and brings your pussy to his lips. As he begins to part your folds with his tongue, slurping your juices and nestling in your warmth, you feel something turn on inside of you. As he licks, he fingers you, first with his middle finger, and then with as many fingers as you’ll take. You’re close, but you feel like it’s too soon. You’ve been craving him so badly, and now you fear you’ve overindulged.

“Don’t think,” Yoongi whispers, pinching your thighs. “Keep going.”

You do trust him. You want to be vulnerable with him. You need to share this with him. So you come. And it feels so, so good. You’re flailing, grabbing onto the front seats for leverage as you undulate, and Yoongi is gazing down at you in wonder.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he whispers, worshipping you, “taste so good.”

Sweating, you sit up and catch your breath. You reach for him, but he stays just out of reach.

“Not yet,” Yoongi insists. “Let me give you more.”

You think, and then you stand, turning around to face the front and give Yoongi your back. He kisses your ass cheeks and starts to lick at your pussy and up to your hole, not just eating you out, but devouring you. You don’t understand the gibberish coming out of you, but it feels primal, so intense and remarkable.

“Shit, yes,” Yoongi says when he’s done, running his hands up and down your thighs, and smacking your ass once.

You bounce and moan. You weren’t expecting that, but it felt amazing.

“Mm, definitely need to see that again,” Yoongi says, his voice low. He smacks your ass a second time, harder, and you groan obscenely. Neither of you can believe the sounds that he’s drawing out of you.

“Ooh, Yoongi, fuck me,” you beg, and Yoongi lines himself up expertly, already a master at the curves of your body. You’re so wet and ready for him that he slides into you in one smooth, delicious motion. Both of you let out moans that have been pent up for too long.

“God, you feel fucking amazing,” you breathe, and Yoongi pulls the hoodie off of you, dragging his teeth up the skin of your back, up to your neck.

You bounce on him, and then he helps you balance your front on the center console. He angles up a bit and starts to fuck you fast. The top of your head is nearly slamming against the radio. It feels debaucherous. You can’t believe you’ve lived this long without it.

“Let it happen,” Yoongi tells you. It’s because he feels the walls of your pussy twitching violently, and he knows your tendency is to try to keep them from shaking. It’s easier said than done, though. He’s having trouble fighting it to stay hard enough to get you where you need to be, where he wants you to be. He wants to keep being perfect for you. You already are so perfect for him.

You feel the swell growing inside you, and instead of trying to direct it, you let it wash over you completely. So many things are happening at once. You feel a wetness that you haven’t felt before cascade out of you. Your body immediately goes cold, and you think you might pass out.

“Damn,” Yoongi pants, his mind and body on fire. “More. I want to give you more.”

“Hold me,” you whisper weakly, and he softly positions you so that you are lying down across the back seat. “I want you to come with me. I want to see you.”

Yoongi climbs on top of you after pulling off his pants and shirt. He kisses and fondles your breasts before reaching up to kiss you deeply. As he pushes his tongue into your ready mouth, he pushes his cock into your willing pussy. He curves up and hits your G spot, and you know that this will completely destroy you.

You place your hands on Yoongi’s face, and he kisses your fingers. He tells you things. How much he cares for you. How many times he almost called you while he was gone. How your face came to him at night. Napkin-scribbled notes in real time.

You feel miserably ineloquent by comparison, but you tell him, “There’s no one like you.” And he kisses you like you’ve said the most extraordinary thing in the world, when really, it’s just the simple truth.

He licks his way from your collarbone to your chin and goes to kiss you again, but before his lips land on yours, you fit together in such a way that shifts everything forward. Sensations are suddenly more intense, but you need even more of them to keep from falling apart. Yoongi rests his forehead on your chest as he pulls himself all the way out, only to slam all the way into you again, making all of your nerve endings buzz, your tongue hang out of your mouth, and your eyes roll back. He kisses your stomach and quickens his pace, and you squeeze hard as he exits you.

“I’m close,” Yoongi whispers.

“Me too,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his chin.

You come together. You feel so much. There is so much. The hot, sticky mix of tears and cum and sweat and breath seeps into your pores. Yoongi gently lowers himself to you, letting out a long, sexy, deep, strained moan, saying your name as you whimper and wail his. You’re both right. It’s rhapsodic.

You lie there for who knows how long, naked and spent, running errant hands over each other, utterly obliterated by each other yet only wanting to do it again and again and again.

“Fuck, can you imagine someone walking by right now?” Yoongi laughs suddenly, and you think of what this scene must have looked like from outside. An out-of-the-way, residential street, quiet save for the squeak, squeak, squeak of a car being rocked on its axles. You laugh together, kissing softly and drifting in and out of consciousness.

After a little while, you feel Yoongi moving with intent, and you open your eyes to see Yoongi wiping you down with the shirt that he was wearing under his sweater.

He notices you moving in the darkness, and he hands you the hoodie and sweatpants that you were wearing, kept pristine for you in the front seat, if not for a little bit of sweat.

“Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”

When you both hop out of the car to adjust yourselves, you giggle at his crazy hair, and he smiles at yours, each laugh giving you both a welcome, refreshing respite from the dank air.

When you get back in the front seats, you don’t freeze or wait. You reach for his hand and lock your fingers together. He smiles at you, surprised. Your heart fills to the brim as he rests your hands in the space between your seats, running his thumb over yours.

After a quiet, hour-long drive, you come to a bridge.

Yoongi pulls over to a safe part of the shoulder on the road. He gets out, and you follow him, feeling nervous. He hikes down a little ways, to where the bridge starts to separate from the land, and he turns around to help you. You mimic his memorized steps as best as you can, careful not to slip on the loose gravel. He helps you down, and he leads you to the dark underside. The smooth concrete slopes down to a now-abandoned road. There’s no danger, but you both feel scared. He sits down, and he pulls on your arm to join him. His legs and arms surround you from behind, and you lean back into him.

“There’s something that I didn’t tell you,” Yoongi says, running his lips over the sleeve of his hoodie.

You fight the impulse to brace, and you listen.

“The day at the movie theater,” he replies. “Do you remember that?”

“Yeah, I nearly dumped my hot chocolate on your head,” you mutter, and Yoongi laughs. “I wouldn’t have blamed you,” he says.

You wait. You listen.

“That was the day he… left.”

Yoongi still can’t even really say it, but there’s no rushing that, and you don’t need him to. You think of the two blueberry muffins. Tears stream from Yoongi’s eyes, and he sniffles, but his breathing is calm. He’s cried like this many times before, alone in his room, or alone in his car, or maybe sitting alone under this bridge.

He gathers himself. “It had been years, but I heard him. I think he was guiding me.”

You bring the back of Yoongi’s hand to your lips. You plant a kiss there, and rest your cheek against it. You send a message to him, wherever he is. Thanking him. Reassuring him that you’ve got Yoongi, and he’s got you.

“You would have liked him,” he says, his voice weak.

“You told me all about him,” you say, simply. “I do.”

Yoongi exhales, and finally, so do you. You feel tension that you didn't know you were carrying leaving your body. He pulls you to him, and you kiss. You don’t know what will happen next. But now that someone has shown you how to stop worrying about that, you can finally break free from the shackle that has always kept you from reading on and finding out.

← 03: Summer | End

In the Margins | Masterpost

In the Margins | Playlist

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[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 11)

tw: mentions of vomiting, pregnancy, miscarriage 

wc: 4.2k 

masterlist!

series masterlist!

“I apologize in advance for the way this letter is going to be. It’s going to be a mess of my word vomit that is poorly strung together and probably won’t make any sense. The pages are going to be tear-soaked and ripped, kind of like me right now. I feel tattered and torn and achy and bruised. I’m physically fine, but mentally? I’m at my absolute low. The lowest of lows, even though I should be better. I was better for a while, because I still had you. Even after we broke up I was better, because I still had coffee with you at work and we sort of started speaking to each other again. Leaving is hard, but I know with time I’ll be better again. I won’t be at this rock-bottom this forever. 

Speaking of, I should really tell you where I’m at. Physically, it is 1:36 am EST on February 15th. I am still at the kitchen table in that red blanket. The way it smells like you has gone from revolting to comforting in the last few hours of writing. My hand is aching. I have the locket on my neck and I’m incessantly playing with it and opening it to see your face. I haven’t eaten. If I did I’m afraid I’d just puke it all up, so instead I’m half way through a bottle of red and well on my way to a second. I need it. You know what the next part is, Spence, so can you really blame me?

I’ve decided to combine these next two mementos; I feel like they just go together naturally. They tell the same story and they’re both important to that said story. Grab the tissues, Love, you’re gonna need ‘em.”

Spencer did as you asked, reaching to his nightstand and grabbing the box of tissues that was already half empty from how much he had used them in the last fourteen hours. His nose was red and sore from the constant blowing and sniffling. The box felt hollow when he lifted it, and he couldn’t help but relate to it. 

“It all started a month or so after that conversation on the balcony; the one between me, you, and the moon. I felt sick. We weren’t surprised and if I’m being honest, being “careful” had taken a backseat. Don’t think I’m complaining, because I’m not. I loved every moment I ever got to spend with you, especially in those compromising positions we found ourselves in often. I love the way you loved me, so gently, so kindly, with passion and heart. I loved feeling you love me, and you loved me often. So, naturally, we weren’t shocked when I woke up each morning throwing up. I purposely ignored the way my boobs hurt and my hip bones ached. I wasn’t surprised, but I was still terrified. Loaning out your body to another human being is scary. But you? 

It’s like you had this sixth sense. You knew immediately, before I even had a clue. Every day for a week you rubbed my back, held my hair, and soothed me. You got me saltines and ginger ale every day, gently told me to stop with the coffee and deli meats. The way you cared for me during it all made it okay, more than okay. It made me excited. I felt lucky to share that experience with a man like you. I was lucky to share that experience with you. I can say with 100% certainty I will never share it with anyone except you, because no one except you would stop at Walgreens and pick up a box of ClearBlue for their cranky, definitely pregnant girlfriend. You’re the only one who would run to the store when I couldn’t physically eat anything but potato chips and raspberry Arizona Iced Tea. You’re the only one I’d want holding me on the bathroom floor as we waited for the longest three minutes of our lives. You’re the only one I wanted to scoop me up in a hug when it said ‘pregnant’. You’re the only one I’d ever want to be the dad of my kids. That’s just it Spence, you were the one. The only one. I realize that now.”

Spencer shook as he picked up the test in his hands. It felt delicate, and sacred, like it was a relic. Actually, everything in that box felt like a relic, like holy objects that he had to cherish and safeguard. His chest tightened, but he couldn’t cry. He was all out of tears. He spun it, staring at those eight letters, remembering when he bought the test. 

It was Father’s day, ironically enough, and he had gone into the BAU to do some paperwork. You were too sick to come too; you had woken up at four to start your new-found morning routine of shoving your head into the toilet. He woke up with you, saltines and ginger ale in hand as he rubbed circles into your back and whispered ‘you’re okay, I’ve got you’ in between your gagging noises. It was good practice for being a dad, he thought. Waking up at any beck and call of yours would be similar to a newborn, and he needed all the practice he could get. 

Every morning, you’d vomit for an hour or so, chug a ginger ale, and throw that up too before falling asleep on the toilet seat, after which he’d gingerly pick you up and carry you back to bed. That morning was no different, so he felt awful leaving you at home. He left you with a note saying ‘Be back later, Salt and Vinegar or BBQ? Let me know, love you,’ and a bottle of water with a Motrin. 

You had been sick for almost two weeks straight, and he knew you knew why. You just didn’t want to admit it. Neither did he at first; he had a plan. This went against the plan you had agreed to a few weeks ago, but plans change. And for once that didn’t bother him. He was happy the plans had shifted, elated even. He didn’t know how to contain it, spending most days looking up which cribs were safest and which prenatal vitamins he should grab for you. He fully immersed himself in being a dad, before he even knew if he had someone to be a dad for.

When he stopped at the store to get you salt and vinegar and barbecue chips (you requested family sized bags of both), he wandered over to the family planning section. He decided it was finally time. Today was going to be the day. He’d officially be a dad-to-be, and on Father’s day of all days. It felt right. The universe was finally on his side. It was sunny, birds were chirping. Everything felt perfect.

He grabbed a box of clearblue and checked out, the cashier smiling and commenting, “I hope good luck is what I should say.”

He smiled ear to ear, “Yes, I appreciate that, thank you.”

The tests felt like they were burning a hole through the paper bag the whole walk home. A few times he considered not even giving them to you. He was scared for how you’d react. He was happy, but would you be? Would you cry? Would your tears be happy or sad? Part of him didn’t want to find out, but a bigger part of him needed to find out. 

When he got home, you practically ran to greet him. 

“Chips! Chips!” 

You kissed his cheeks and face, and he squeezed you tightly, but not too tightly. Just in case.  

“Yes, I got the biggest bags that they sell.”

“You know I love you? So much?”

“I know. I love you too, so much,” He blushed and watched you dig in the shopping bag, where you found the box of tests. 

“Spencer—“

“We need to talk.”

He cut you off, trying to profile the look on your face. It was half shock, but he swore he saw you bite back a smile. 

“I know,” you said, opening the box, “And I think we both know what this is going to say.”

“I have an idea of what it’ll say. Is that okay?”

“Is it okay?” You said, standing in front of him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “Yes. It’s scary, but it’s wanted.”

He placed his hands on your belly. There was nothing there yet, but he still couldn’t contain the smile, “Really?”

You rolled your eyes, using humor to deflect as usual, “Don’t pretend you haven’t been trying to knock me up for months, Dr. Reid,” now he rolled his, “I’m going to go pee on this.”

He followed you into the bathroom, and then proceeded to wait for three minutes. The longest three minutes in the history of time. 

“First time?” You asked him, nestled between his legs on the bathroom floor. 

“Yeah, believe it or not this is the first pregnancy test I’ve ever taken.”

You laughed, shifting even closer to him in an attempt to have him swallow you whole, “Nah, I’ve peed on a ton of sticks.”

“Is that so?” He joked back. You stiffened, and he gripped you tighter. If he could hold you together, maybe you wouldn’t fall apart.

“No,” your voice was low and weak, “and I’m scared. I don’t know why. I’m happy, but terrified, does that even make sense?” 

He kissed the back of your head, “I’ve got you.”

The rest of the time was silent, just appreciating the warmth the other offered. You made him go look at it, not trusting yourself to be able to stand in that moment. 

“It’s positive,” He said, trying to conceal his excitement.

“Really?” Your face lit up and he lit up too, sweeping you off your feet into a hug he wished would have lasted for a hundred years. 

“Yeah, Love, really. You’re going to be a mom!”

Happy tears breached both of your eyes, “And you’re going to be a dad!”

He groaned at the memory, wishing that slice of pure bliss would have lasted. He felt so much happiness in that moment, maybe too much. Maybe we’re all given an allotted amount of happiness at birth. Maybe he only had so much happiness in his body, and he used all his happiness up with you. That would make sense, because he hadn’t found a speck of genuine happiness in his life without you. 

“When you told me it was positive, that was simultaneously the happiest and most terrifying moment of my entire life. I was elated. Over the moon. Ecstatic. Because I always wanted a baby and I always wanted a baby with you. But I was scared. I was scared because pregnancy is scary and birth is supposed to feel like breaking all your bones at once or something. I was scared because I didn’t know if I had the money to get the best crib and best everything for our baby. I was scared because our baby would have two parents with dangerous jobs that we might not come home from. It’s the sad truth of our lives Spencer. We’ve stared down the barrels of many guns, been taken and tortured, looked evil in its eyes. I was scared because instead of living in that moment of pure happiness and love, I was looking ahead, as if anything in this life is guaranteed. 

I ignored my fears, like I ignore everything I really should be looking in the eyes, and let us be happy. All I ever wanted was for us to be happy. And that was the start of when we were the happiest. 

Everyday was full of baby name lists and Mozart and nutritionally balanced meals you made for me. You fed me a lot of sweet potatoes, because “Sweet potatoes are high in vitamin A, Y/N, and you need to increase your vitamin A intake by about 20% during pregnancy.” The only problem was I hate sweet potatoes, and all I really wanted to eat was loaded nachos and cheese fries. 

Being pregnant with the smartest man in the world had its pluses and minuses. On the plus side, you knew everything about everything. If I ever felt a funny movement or a weird symptom, you knew what was going on. Because of JJ (another thing I chose to ignore). But that was also a minus, because I’d tell you my tummy hurt and suddenly you’d overreact and make me call my doctor. I’d laugh and tell you it was all okay, I didn’t have any rare conditions that have only ever affected 3 people in the history of the world. I was okay. Me and her, we were okay.”

Spencer stopped. Her? You actually used ‘her?’ You never did that. After everything happened you referred to her as ‘the baby’ because it made it less personal. If you called her ‘her’ or by the name you’d chosen, that made it real. Neither of you wanted it to be real. 

You had cried over this page heavily, the words marked by inky tear stains. He was following suit, staring at that word. 

Her. A girl. His daughter. His girl. 

“You’d give me weekly updates on how big the baby was and what was growing and changing. And trust me, I felt growing and changing. And to me, it felt like sore boobs and vomiting. Pregnancy did not make me glow, it made me dull and gray and cranky and somehow still so happy. I was happy because of you. 

You listened to me compare the pros and cons of virtually identical bassinets while you rubbed my feet. You laid your head on my belly, even before there was a bump and listened or talked to her about your day. You always got me potato chips. You removed every vanilla candle in our house when the smell made me want to hurl. You were understanding when I’d snap at the littlest things or cry at a sad commercial. You made every stomach ache and hip ache feel better, even if you did fact dump about it every four seconds. I got so caught up in being a mom-to-be that I often forgot you were a dad-to-be, too. I’m sorry for that. I should've supported you the way you supported me, through everything. For that, I'm truly sorry. 

Remember when everyone found out? We decided to wait to tell them, at least into week twelve, just in case something happened. 

“If a miscarriage were to happen, it would most likely occur in the first trimester;” you explained one day, while I had my grubby little hands in a plate of loaded sweet potato fries (a compromise). 

“My mom always said it's bad luck,” I said, “But I’m happy to keep this between us. I wish we could live in this bubble of happiness forever, Spencer.”

I still wish we could’ve lived in that bubble forever, but it popped. 

We still went to work like usual. They all knew something was up. I was opting out of takedowns and always eating. Like, always. Derek knew not to go to the vending machine without getting something for me. I sized up in Kevlar and Rossi did mention that I was looking ‘glowy’ a few times. No one asked us though, which is a surprise given the people we work with. They knew we loved each other before we even did, so I’m sure they knew I had one in the oven. 

We told them by getting a onesie that said “FUTURE FBI AGENT” on it. Super cheesy, but perfect for us. We showed up to a carbonara ala Rossi dinner with it stashed in my purse.

“No wine?” Rossi asked me and I shook my head no, “Okay Bella, okay.”

He sent me a knowing look with a grin. Classic Rossi, always the dad. 

After dessert, we stood up, clinking a class and you held me close.

“Attention, everyone!”

The whole crew stared at us, and you gave them the line you had rehearsed in the car on the way over, “The BAU is my family, and I love you all so dearly. which is why Y/N and I would like to tell you that we have a new recruit coming in February!” 

We each took one sleeve of this adorably tiny onesie and held it up, everyone cheering and clapping and congratulating us.

The boys patted you on the back, Penelope tackled me in a hug, Blake kissed your cheeks. Even JJ had a genuine smile for us. It was perfect. Literally perfect. That may be the best moment of my life. It was me and you, sharing the most important part of our lives with the people most important to us. My heart aches just thinking about them. God, they were so excited. Garcia and Derek bought me gifts. JJ gave me advice. We sent Emily a picture of me and you with that baby onesie, and she texted me everyday to ask how I was feeling. My dad was over the moon, he didn’t even care that we weren’t married. Diana was the happiest of them all. She was so excited for you to have this journey, and she told me she was glad it’d be with me. She once wrote to me that a dream of hers was to be a grandma, and when you were a kid she thought that may never happen, since you were so smart and special and different. She thought no one would ever understand you enough to love you like that. She said that all changed when she met me. She could tell I understood you and loved you. So tell Diana that I’m sorry I couldn’t give her that dream and that I hope she gets her wish of being a grandma one day. I hope you get your wish to be a dad, too. It may kill me to know that you’d be out there parenting without me, but it may kill me more if you never get to have that dream Spencer Reid. So do it. Break my heart a million times over. It’s worth it as long as you’d be happy at the end of it all.”

He sighed shakily, he’d only be happy at the end of it all if it was with you, an option that seemed less and less likely with each passing letter. 

The box contained that little onesie. He held it up, astonished at how small it was. How could a person ever be so tiny? He let himself cry into it, the onesie still smelling like you. He remembered ordering it online, sneaking it in your purse and the look on everyone’s faces when he gave his little speech. He remembered JJ squeezing him tight and telling him he’d be amazing and how happy she was that Henry and Jack would have a new friend. He remembered Derek slapping him on the back and commenting how pretty the baby would be, “You and Y/N? We may have a new pretty boy in the house soon!”

He remembered Rossi immediately finding a copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ on a shelf in his massive mansion, and giving it to him with a kiss on both cheeks. He remembered sneaking to Vegas to tell his mother, how she leapt up and swallowed him in a hug. But perhaps the most memorable and meaningful interaction he had that night was with Hotch. 

He came up to Spencer separately, at the end, and gave him his own fatherly wisdom, “Congratulations, Reid. This is going to be the greatest adventure of your life, and you’re going to be an amazing father.”

Spencer smiled, looking over at you, hands all over your barely there belly, giggling with Garcia and Derek, “Because of her.”

“What?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “I’m going to be a great father, because she makes me a great man.”

Hotch smiled and brought Spencer into a hug, two rare occurrences, “I felt the same way about Haley.”

Spencer felt Hotch stiffen, and he waited for him to finish, “My only advice to you is to not be me. If she makes your world spin a little faster, if she makes life a little better, if she makes the job easier, then don’t wait. I waited too much with Haley. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Spencer smiled, knowing then what he needed to do. You did make his world spin faster. You made the world a better place. 

“I won’t, Hotch,” He cleared his throat, “I promised her that much.” 

But there he was now, making all the same mistakes Hotch had. He had waited. He said he wouldn’t but he still did. He poured himself into work instead of love, just like Hotch, and it led him to his rock-bottom. He was staring at a baby onesie that should’ve held his baby, except he had no baby, and he had no you. 

He toyed with the snaps on the bottom, undoing them and redoing them in an attempt to relieve stress. He could imagine what she would’ve looked like. He thought she’d be chubby, like a little michelin man with rolls on her knees and elbows. He thought her hair would be brown and curly, like his, and her eyes would hold the universe in them like yours did. He thought that he’d love her tenfold the amount he loved you, which was a lot. He wondered if when he saw her face his heart would be too full and give out then and there. 

“My favorite memory of being pregnant is that day we went to Meridian Hill Park, remember? You fixed up a picnic basket full of nutritious foods, sneaking a bag of saltines just in case I felt sick. That was one of the last days, if I remember right. It was week eighteen. I looked like I had a basketball shoved under my dress. The doctor’s said I was measuring large; the baby would probably be nine pounds. We knew she was a girl. We didn’t have some big gender reveal, we just had the doctor tell us at the ultrasound. 

You set the blanket down, helping me sit and get situated. It was mid-October, so the leaves were bright yellow and orange. You had on a cozy sweater and brought a blanket to drape over my legs. I remember eating a few apple slices and leaning on you, just admiring the world. I looked over at you and smiled. Your hair was shorter and you were sitting cross-legged, slouching and eating a sandwich.

“You know what would be a cute name for her?” You said, shifting to allow me to lay my head on your lap.

“Hm?”

“Annabelle.”

“Like from the Poe story?”

“Technically, it’s a poem, but yes.”

“Doesn’t she die in it?”

You shrugged, “Yes, but it has such beautiful lines. ‘We loved with a love that’s more than love, I and my Annabell Lee.”

Your hand met my rather large bump, and upon hearing you whisper “Annabell Lee” the baby kicked, right into your hand. 

You looked down at me, smiling, “See she likes it! Don’t you Annabelle?”

I rolled my eyes, “Must everything be macabre with you Reid?”

You gave me pleading eyes, “Even without the poem, it’s still a beautiful name. It’s of English origin and means gracious or beautiful.”

“Annabelle Diana Reid,” I said, trying it on for size. 

You scrunched up your eyebrows and nose, “Diana?”

I shrugged, “I thought it’d be nice, and that makes for a really pretty name.”

You grinned, “I love it, and I love you, and I love Annabelle. I promise I will love you both for the rest of my life.”

I like to think you’ve kept that promise. 

You kissed me gently, the sun washing over us and a few stray leaves falling, just you, me, and Anna. 

I don’t believe in jinxes or superstitions. I believe in science and facts. But some part of me can’t shake the feeling that if we picked a different name things would’ve been different. Maybe if she was an Ava or an Olivia we wouldn’t be here. But she was Annabelle. Our Annabelle. 

I got rid of every other speck of baby stuff from this place. When you were off on cases and I was at home, I filled a bag with the few things we had gotten and dropped them off at the Salvation Army. I couldn’t bear parting with this onesie though, in fact I’m having a hard time even giving it to you. But she was yours too. My favorite part of the poem is this: 

‘And neither the angels in Heaven above, nor the demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul, of the beautiful Annabel Lee’”

Spencer crumpled the letter up. He was done reading this. He had to stop, his breath and heart rate were skyrocketing. He felt he’d been chewed up and spit out. He wanted to scream or punch a wall. His sadness forming into an angry monster that he couldn’t contain. He threw the crumpled letter across the room with a yell.

When he realized what he had done, he quickly tried to flatten the paper out, “No, no, no no! Please” 

Hot tears were streaming down his face uncontrollably making his vision bleary and the letter even harder to read. He needed you. You always knew how to calm him down and he needed that now. His mom was right, you did understand him. You were probably the only person alive who ever really, truly, did. 

He grabbed his phone, scrolling to find your contact name. He didn’t press ‘call’. He just stared at the ten numbers, frozen, and allowed himself to sob. 

Part 12!

Taglist!

@l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings (tag isnt working) @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67​ @blushingwueen​ @peaxhyjaes​ @justanotherfangurlz​ @juniorgman187​ @mbowles23-blog​ @blameitonthenight21​ @goldentournesol​ @rainsong01​ @thelifeofadumbbitch​ @swimmingtrashwobblersludge  (not working)

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid fic #spencer #reid #reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #cm #cm fic #criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid smut #spencer reid self insert #matthew gray gubler

[versegm]

Holy Grail War where Guda is their summoner's weird back-alley encounter one night, then ghosts them for two days straight without an explanation and then seamlessly sets themselves up in the next-door apartment. They never explain what a holy grail is, and they're human-passing if they take sufficient precautions, and five months in it's just them and one enemy servant left. Guda goes drinking with them every Tuesday.

The first time you meet your new neighbor, you almost have a heart attack.

“Ma’am! Do you need any help with that?”

Face mask, sunglasses, leather gloves. They stand hover above you, and it dawns on you that you’re about to get mugged.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You steel your spine and straighten your back- and immediately wince. Old age has not been kind to you. “I’m fine. Really.”

The youth chuckles- they sound genuinely amused. Since you can barely see their face at all, you can’t read any of their emotions. It’s unnerving. “Don’t be silly, ma’am.” They take hold of the heaviest of your grocery bags. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you there.”

And you can’t really do anything but agree, can you? Ah, it has been a good life, at least. You suppose there are worse ways to go than...

... actually guided home by a yakuza? Who bids you goodbye and just leaves?

... Wait, they were being honest with the offer to help?

*

The youth, you learn quickly (for there is no better intel than old lady gossip) goes by Ritsuka Fujimaru, is probably not part of any yakuza group, and works part-time at the okonomiyaki place down the street.

Their apartment is also two rooms away from yours, which is why you keep running into them.

“Ma’am!” They wave at you excitedly. Their face is still covered. Apparently, they’re just that allergic to showing any important patch of skin. “You shouldn’t stay around these parts, ma’am. Haven’t you heard? A pipeline exploded yesterday.”

Huh, really? There has been a lot of these kind of accidents lately. You didn’t know another one exploded in the area.

This city really needs to get it together. You remember another serie of accidents like this when you were a kid. You’d think in sixty years infrastructure would get better.

“Ma’am! Ah, it’s good to see you sticking to safe paths.”

“Ma’am! Ah, you really ought to check the news! The next street is closed up! It shouldn’t last long, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“Ma’am! Let’s walk home together! I just finished my shift. Are you coming back from the market?”

“Ma’am! This looks heavy, do you need help? Oh, this is new! How do you cook that?”

*

One day, you go out, and you don’t see them. You don’t bat an eye.

The next day, they’re still not here. It’s not the first time that happens.

The next day, still no Fujimaru. Now this is a little weird.

The next day, they’re still absent. You’re getting worried.

“They’re on sick leave.” The okonomiyaki place tells you. “They should be back by tomorrow.”

Sick?

You frown. They’re a weird folk, but you’ve grown to like the youngster. Do they even know how to take care of themself? You remember when you were just getting started into adulthood and boy that wasn’t pretty.

So, you walk determinedly to the youth’s apartment, and knock.

At first there is silence. Then a ruffled sound. Then, a voice. “One moment!”

So you wait.

... quite some time.

After what seems like an eternity, but most likely was only a minute, the door opens up. “Hi ma’am! What brings you here?” And you can’t help but flinch.

They look the same as usual. Sunglasses, face mask, and gloves. The same, no sicker, no healthier.

Three scars like slashes come across their right eye.

They have a sheepish laugh. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.”

Make-up? To cover the scars?

You look them over. Sunglasses, face mask, gloves. At first you’d assumed they were some kind of delinquent. At first you’d assumed they didn’t want to be recognized.

Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.

Ah.

You think you understand now.

“... Would you like to have dinner with me?” Originally, you wanted to bring them some chicken soup and be done with it, but what little of their apartment you can see behind them seems... unfit to host people. You wonder how they manage to live in it. It’s just... so full. Toys and tools and papers as if they could barely focus on one task at once. Where did they even fit their bed?

“Ah.” They click their tongue. “That’s very nice, ma’am, but I don’t think-”

“I’ll look the other way while you eat.” You say. “If you really don’t want me to see your face.”

They stay silent. For a few seconds, you can’t even hear them breathe.

“...Okay.”

*

It starts with chicken soup on a sick day. Then it turns into a small chat every two week. Then a meal every week. 

After two months, you’ve gotten into the habit of hosting Fujimaru over twice a week.

They’re comfortable enough to remove their sunglasses when you’re the only one here, now. One of their eye is blank. The other one rarely ever focuses on you when you speak to them.

Weirdly enough, their eye is about the least interesting thing about Fujimaru.

"And there! That’s how you make mocassins.” They’re beaming. You can’t see their mouth, but you’re sure they’re smiling. “Friend of mine taught me how to make these.”

“You seem to have a lot of odd friends.” 

“Oh, definitely. But that’s just how life is, y’know?”

Somehow, you get the feeling that their life isn’t exactly what you’d call “average.”

*

It takes another month for them to take off the face mask.

... Huh.

“Hyperdontia.” That’s the only explanation they give you. You don’t press them. Not about their teeth, not about their eye, not about their soot-like skin under their gloves. From what you’ve seen, it’s a miracle that Fujimaru ended up somewhat functional despite whatever stacked that many scars on them.

“Say, ma’am,” they ask between two bites of food, “if you could have any wish fulfilled, what would you want?”

“A wish?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’m a little old to believe in genies, don’t you think?”

“Humor me.” They set their chin on their palm. “Any wish at all. What would you wish for?”

Any wish...

A few months back, you’d probably have answered ‘a friend,’ or something cheesy like that. Life can be... lonely, when one is as old as you, with no kid or nephew to speak of.

But now, well...

“... no, I can’t think of anything. I’m good.”

They blink. Evidently, they were not expecting that answer.

“... You’re a good person, you know that?”

Their teeth are long and sharp. Somehow, it doesn’t stop their smile from being incredibly sweet.

*

Fujimaru has a friend.

Well, multiple, obviously. Fujimaru looks kind of scary at first, but give them the occasion to chat you up, and they will not let you leave unfriended. But what you mean by that is that Fujimaru has a friend.

“I saw Caster the other day!” They always look giddy talking about Caster. You’re hesitant to call it puppy love, but evidently, this person means a lot to them. 

Here’s what you know about Caster:

- They act like an old man

- They look young enough that Fujimaru has to be the one to buy alcohol when they hang out

- They’ve got Opinion on writing

“So, you write too, Fujimaru?” You ask, after the third time they retell you about some writing discourse or another.

“Mh? Oh, yeah. sometimes.” They rub the back of their neck. “Well, not really. There’s just this one thing I’ve been writing over and over again, so.”

(They do that a lot. Repetitive things, you mean. Sometimes, they repeat something they’ve just told you. Sometimes, they do the same action twice, thrice in a row, as if they’d forgotten they’d already done it.)

(The scars on their face looks deep. You think they might have some mild brain damage, but again, this isn’t your place to ask.)

“What is it about?” You ask, because you’re genuinely interested.

They look down, and seem suddenly very interested in scratching the underneath of their nails.

“... It’s a little silly.” They finally say. “I had this friend, you see.”

You nod. Do go on. For all the time you’ve spent with Fujimaru, you know surprisingly little about their past.

“He was great. Incredible! He knew so much. And he was kind! And resourceful. He could always get someone out of a bind even when himself had next to nothing to work with. I owe him a lot.”

“He sounds pretty great.”

They nod excitedly. “That’s who I’m writing about. My friend.” They pause, for a second, as if unsure if they should continue. When they speak again, their voice is a little lower, as if telling a secret.

“There is power in stories, you know? If it’s written down, then it’s real. In a way. Not real real. But real in a way that matters. Once a story is weaved, you can’t unmake it. Even if no one knows of it. Even if it gets burned down afterwards. There is power in stories.”

It’s a good thing that they don’t ask you if you’ve understood, because you certainly hadn’t. But they go on.

“That’s what I’m writing about. My friend. I’m writing a story about him. Some meaningless slice of life thing. A regular day at work. Getting coffee in the morning. Saying hi to his daughter. Feeling the wind on his face. That’s what I’m writing. Normal life stuff.”

They tilt their head back, look at your roof.

“... It’s the least I can give to him. It’s the only thing I can give to him. A story in which he lives.”

*

It’s been six months since you’ve met Fujimaru, when they ask you with the utmost seriousness: “Do you believe in lucky charms?”

“As much as the next person.” You shrug. It’s very much a maybe maybe not to you. You don’t care all that much.

“Okay. That’s good.” Fujimaru smiles. It’s weird, how used you’ve become to these teeth. How comforting the sight of scars can become. “See, there’s this one lucky charm I wanted to give you. Something of a spell if you ever need me and I’m not here.”

? Well, why not. It wouldn’t be the strangest of Fujimaru’s quirks.

“Okay, listen up. Don’t repeat what I’m going to say. You can only say it one day where you really mean it, okay?” They lean towards you and cup their hands around your ear. Their breath is almost anormaly warm. “It goes something like this. By the power of my Command Spell, I ask of you...”

#fate #fate grand order #fgo #ritsuka fujimaru #guda #my writing #WELL. #THAT WENT WILDLY OUT OF HANDS. #MY BAD. #Anonymous

[bi-bard]

Do You Ever Stop to Think About Me?- Emily Prentiss Imagine (Criminal Minds)

Title: Do You Ever Stop to Think About Me?

Pairing: Emily Prentiss X Reader

Song Drawn: Dorothea

Word Count: 1,687 words

Warning(s): Mentions of feeling abandoned, broken promises

Summary: Memories were strange things. Some feel like they’re forgotten in seconds, others seem to last a lifetime. When the source of (Y/n)’s longest lasting memories rolls back into their small town, how will they react?

Author’s Note: I got halfway through this and realized that I basically wrote some very weird version of the first season of You... oh well. Please consider supporting my Ko-fi account. It would mean a lot to me. If I know there are people interested in it, I’ll get the monthly donation part set up. 

Buy me a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/khoward0

If you want to know more about my Taylor Swift writing challenge, click here!

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“It appears that the FBI has just arrived on the scene of the latest crime-”

I popped my head into the living room when I heard the news. I had been trying to keep up with the latest string of murders in my town. Not only had they been a strange occurrence in a town as small as ours, but they were also incredibly graphic... at least that’s what the news was saying.

My heart felt like it stopped when I saw who got out of the car. Emily Prentiss. I’d be damned. I hadn’t seen her in years. Some of us moved from city to city... or country to country while others stayed in the same town their whole life. She threw a quick “no comment” at the reporter’s question and walked into the house with some of her coworkers.

“Wow,” I mumbled before checking the time. “Oh, shit.”

I had work that day. A librarian in a small town wasn’t the best gig in the world but it paid fine and I got to be surrounded by things I loved. 

I was sitting at the front desk, checking on which books were overdue and which ones had just been checked back in.

“Excuse me,” I looked up to see Emily and two men standing there.

“Emily,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. “Emily Prentiss... I don’t know if you remember me. I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

“(Y/n),” she repeated, smiling at me. “I remember you, I promise.”

I stood up, walking around the desk and hugging her. 

“This is Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid,” she introduced. I shook Morgan’s hand and waved back at Dr. Reid. 

“What can I help you guys with,” I asked. 

“We were wondering if you’d seen anything odd here recently,” Agent Morgan explained. “Maybe a man coming here a lot suddenly. Maybe you’ve talked to him. Probably close to your age, awkward, most likely white.”

“I can’t think of anything,” I said, biting my lip as I tried to think. “We don’t have many regulars and when we do they tend to stick to themselves.”

“Did you know any of the victims,” Dr. Reid asked. 

I shook my head, “Not personally. Some of them would come in here every now and then but I tend to be a bit of a fly on the wall when no one needs my help.”

“Here,” Emily handed me a card with her number on it. “Keep your eyes open, call me- I mean- us if you see anything.”

“Do you have security cameras,” I looked back over at Reid and nodded. “Can we take a look at them?”

I nodded, stepping back behind my desk so I could hand him a key, “This will get you into the room. It’s in the back right corner. Door says ‘Security,’ you can’t miss it. We have backlogs for a week so I don’t know how much you can get off of it.”

“Thank you,” Reid and Morgan walked off. 

“Emily,” I said, touching her arm. “Am I in danger?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“Emily...”

“The other victims look like you, the library is the center of the hunting ground. Yes, I’m worried about you. Keep your eyes open. Don’t go somewhere private with someone you don’t know. Just... please be safe.”

“I’ll try,” I nodded. Emily was about to walk away. “Hey... I don’t know how long you’re going to be in town after this but... if you’re able... do you want to go out for drinks? Catch up?”

She grinned at me, “That sounds really nice.”

“Okay,” I chuckled awkwardly before grabbing a spare piece of paper, quickly scribbling my number down before handing it to her. “If I can help you guys anymore, let me know.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

I nodded. She walked back towards where her coworkers had gone earlier. I sat down at my desk, trying to stop blushing before going back to work. I spent about twenty more minutes working before I saw Dr. Reid walk out quickly while talking on the phone. 

Agent Morgan walked over and handed me the key, “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied. Emily waved at me as she and Agent Morgan left. 

I had stood up to go put some books on the desks. It was slower today than usual but it gave me more time to get my work done. I only left the desk because the library was empty. I popped my head out from behind a shelf when I heard the door open and close. I saw a man standing by the desk.

“Can I help you,” I asked, walking over to the desk. 

“Hey,” he said, waving at me. 

“Hi,” I chuckled. “Can I help you?”

I was caught off guard by the man jumping at me and holding a knife to my neck. I stuttered over some words, scared out of my mind.

“Come on,” he pulled me closer. “We have a date tonight.”

--Time Skip--

“Listen, just let me go, and we can talk about this,” I said, trying to not cry in front of him. 

“This is the only way,” he replied as he finished tying me to the chair. “This is the only way for us to be together. All those girls. The ones who wanted to take your place.”

“I...I...”

“Don’t you remember,” he asked. “You always were so kind to me. Whenever I came in, Mondays and Fridays-”

“The Fantasy section,” I mumbled.

Agent Morgan said that he would awkward but this man was as casual and confident as a man his age. I saw him each week. I gave him a wave as I did with everyone. How did that turn into him think I loved him?

“I’m so happy that you remember,” he cupped the side of my face. I noticed the knife in his other hand. “I love you.”

I knew very well that it would’ve been very bad for me to reject him. Knives were scary.

“I love you too,” I replied shakily. He smiled, tilting his head at me. 

I was terrified. I didn’t know how long I was going to have to do this or if I was going to be able to. I tried to force a smile at him.

I shouted when the door was kicked open. Agent Morgan and Emily walked in with their guns drawn. The man stood behind me, knife by my throat. 

“Hey, hey, put the knife,” Emily said. “You love (Y/n), right?”

“Yes and you won’t come between us,” he shouted. 

“But killing them would,” she reasoned. 

“Please,” I begged quietly. “If you love me, you’ll listen to them.”

“But-but-”

“I’ll never get to see you again if I’m dead,” I continued. “Please. For me.”

I let out a sigh as he moved the knife away from me. Agent Morgan stepped forward, handcuffing him after the knife clattered on the ground. The man watched me with a smile as he was led out. Emily walked over and started untying me.

“So... how about that drink,” I tried to joke.

“You’re being funny,” she asked. “You just had a knife to your throat.”

“I must be trying to avoid it by using humor as a coping mechanism,” I said, rubbing, now untied, wrists. “That’s a thing, right?”

“I don’t know about immediately after,” she replied, finishing untying my ankle. “Can you stand up?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, standing up. Emily supported me even though I was standing. “So... that drink?”

“My god,” she laughed as we walked. “Get cleared by the medics and I’ll go for that drink tonight... if I can clear it with my boss.”

“Deal,” I said. 

Emily passed me over to the medics with a grin before walking over to talk to some man in a suit and scowl that looked like it hadn’t moved in years. The medics checked on me quickly. I wasn’t too concerned. I hadn’t actually been hit but I could see why they needed to check on me. Emily walked back over just as they were wrapping up. 

“Good news,” she said. “My boss has encouraged me to go. Is (Y/n) going to be alright to go?”

“Should be alright, everything looks normal and they aren’t describing any pain,” the EMT nodded. I stood up and thanked them. 

“I know this lovely restaurant,” I started rambling. Emily just smiled and nodded.

--Time Skip--

We both thanked the waitress as we handed back the menus. I looked at her and grinned.

“I should thank you for saving me,” I said, trying to break the awkward silence between us. 

“It’s my job,” she shrugged. I raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re welcome.”

I chuckled at her, shaking my head for a moment. Another moment of silence took over the conversation. I looked down at the table.

“Can I ask you something,” I tilted my head at her. She nodded. “Did you ever think about me after you left?”

“Of course I did,” she replied. “You were one of my best friends ever. You made yourself very hard to forget.”

“Oh,” I chuckled. “I never forgot you either... you were... gosh... a little more than a best friend.”

“What?”

“Emily, we made out, you were my first kiss, you took me out on a date,” I said. “You don’t remember?”

“I do but I didn’t think about how much you’d hold onto that... we never really talked about it.”

“I haven’t left this town in years, not much else to think about,” I chuckled. “I guess I was scared that you had gone off, found cooler friends, forgotten about me... and I was just here. Stuck. Waiting for someone to make me feel the same way you did.”

“I didn’t forget about you,” she replied. “You have my number now... maybe we could keep in touch when I leave. I’d love to show you around D.C.”

“I’d like that,” I grinned, blushing a bit. 

Emily waltzing back into my life may have been one of the best things to ever happen to me.

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#emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction

[treasurestation]

Blue Flag, with doyoung and yedam.

Note: this does follow Ao No Flag, yet there are minor plot changes such as time setting! You don't have to read Ao No Flag unless you want to! The plot was to be described a bit, Maybe? Hopefully— through my writing!

Dialogue heavy!

For the first time since third grade, they share a classroom together. It's Doyoung that shone with genuine appreciation it: smile wide, enough to make Yedam feel something — something other than a sense of guilt, guilt for feeling insecure. Although he shouldn't be. They're completely different people, not at all the same— and yet.

Doyoung's hands grab his shoulders when he raises his voice, and shouts out his name; Yedam's body moves on it's own, jumping toward to Asahi, his face paling, and heart hammering.

Doyoung laughs, and it does something to Yedam's heart. Makes his gut churn, and fists tighten.

“What class are you in, man?” Doyoung asks, his smile is wide— and his eyes are curled, and his face is bright beneath the sun beating down on him, it shone yellow high in the sky. Doyoung looked happy, and Yedam wishes he wasn't— only for a moment.

“Class A,” He replies, heart calming down from the scare. Palm rubbing over his chest, over his uniform— heart beating under his palm, drumming against bone, hard. Doyoung's face shifts, into something like surprise, or— Yedam doesn't know, he really doesn't.

Doyoung's arm wraps around Yedam's shoulder, pulling him into his side. “Woah! We're in the same class? That's crazy! Haven't been since the third grade!” He says, voice heightened. Laced with appreciation, or maybe, gratefulness. He smiles.

Then it shifts.

Voices call out for Doyoung, and he goes. Just as easy as he came, and it makes Yedam stare after him; Doyoung walking into arms, into his friends—

“‘Sup to you too, Yedam,” A friend of Doyoung's says, staring down at him. A smile on his face. Yedam's shoulders bunch up, and he smiles, doesn't feel right on his face. “... Uh, thanks. You too.”

He's unaware of the eyes watching. Burning on Doyoung, then on him.

—

During lunch, Asahi and Haruto pry. Not that they usually do, it's just different when it's about Doyoung, Haruto asks— “Hey... Something's been bugging me,” A beat of silence, “how are you and Doyoung such good friends?”

Yedam stops eating, thinking before he speaks, “We're been best friends since primary school,” and maybe that's why his heart does something for Doyoung, “but I don't think we're that close.”

Yedam really doesn't know— maybe they were close before. But they grew out of it, their closeness. Or maybe, it's a closeness that became one-sided, on Doyoung's part, or maybe on Yedam's part,— or maybe they've never really been close— his thoughts don't stick together anymore after that, Haruto speaks up again, “Nah, you both seem to get along well. Even though you are a completely different ‘class’, right”

“‘Class?’” Yedam's brow furrows. Face shifting, eyes staring— what did he mean? Class?— Yedam just, he doesn't know. It makes his heart drop, a bit. “Yeah,” Haruto shrugs, finger pointing out the classroom window, down onto the field outside.

Doyoung is out there, in his uniform playing soccer. The sleeves rolled up, and beads of sweat formed on his skin, the sun beating down, and other boys chasing after him. His forearm wipes his skin, the people out there cheer him on— Haruto continues, “Because that Doyoung... Has unrivalled skills in the baseball club, and his dexterity is above most, as well. He has great manners and a sense of humor so the girls are always fawning over him–” And it gets Yedam thinking. Really thinking. Heart sinking as he does. “He's someone who makes the most of life.”

“And yet he doesn't have a girlfriend, does he?” Asahi says, slow, curious. But not really caring. Just, curious.

Haruto jokes, “Maybe he just loves to lead people on,”

That makes Yedam lose his appetite, shoving his sandwich into his lunchbox, his face scowls. And Asahi pales, leaning toward Yedam, Yedam's voice lowers, sinks. “Stop it, Haru... Doyoung isn't that kind of guy.”

Haruto leans toward him, finger touching his forehead, “Maybe. But he's on a completely different field than us,” A beat of silence, and Yedam's heart is sinking so low into his gut, “You are being used.” Yedam wishes Haruto never spoke. His heart sinks as well.

A boy shouts. And clutter is loud. Echoing everywhere in the classroom.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing!” A dark-haired boy has a finger pointed at a light-haired boy, voice deep. Irritated, and angered. The light-haired boy points his finger at the dark-haired one, “... He pushed me!” It comes out quick.

Someone:s voice echoes, “(name) hasn't even eaten half,”

Your lunch lays on the floor— scattered, and you're picking it up, face flushed— burning red, cheeks colored so deep, Yedam begins to think it hurts. Yedam lowers his brows, the side of his mouth raised. He doesn't really like you.

Your friend, her voice is low, has a softened edge lingering beneath, “Are you okay, (name)?” You don't answer, just continue picking up your food. Burning beneath her gaze, and everyone else's. “Apologize properly to (name).” She says, and the light-haired boy raises his voice, “It's her fault for always eating so slowly, and always diddy-dallying!”

And your friend's face hardens. She's always been scary, Yedam thinks. And her voice goes even lower, anger lulled low, humming beneath. “Huh? It's your fault for rampaging through here!”

A voice perks up, mocking, taunting. “Ah, it's the gorilla girl run,” And they snicker beneath palms, the boys move. Run toward their desks.

Asahi asks, quietly, “Was that (name)'s lunch?” And Haruto clicks his tongue, “Looks like it.”

Yedam stares at you, just watches. The burning of your skin, your blush infectious. “As always, (name) is stupid and slow...” Yedam says, and it makes Asahi stare at him like he's grown another head, and Haruto calls out Yedam's name.

“Yeah?” He turns around. Eyes curious, wondering— “I have another question, why don't you like (name)?”

Asahi speaks, easing his way in, “You're pretty cold to that girl, aren't you?”

“I don't mean to be...” It's true. That much is very true. And Haruto says something Yedam doesn't get that quickly, “Even though you like small animals,”

“Huh?” His hand rubs over the nape of his neck, smoothing down the hairs. “(name) kind of seems like a small animal, doesn't she? Kind of like a hamster.” Asahi brightens up at that, and looks your way. “Ah. Hamster-ish girls.”

“Hamster girls?" He questions. Looks your way too— your hands are clasped together, and your face is still red. “Hamster lady?” That makes Asahi stare Haruto down, Haruto says, “Nah, that's wrong, right, Asahi?”

Yedam has so many questions. But he doesn't ask. He just, he doesn't know. He doesn't—

—

He walks down a hall toward his classroom. Wondering what the problem was— his relationship with Doyoung was the problem. That he hadn't changed, but was of a different ‘class’.

Then he thinks of you. How long he's known you, yet hasn't really known you— he's always been in the same classroom as you. Your eyes had met often. You never really spoke to each other— Yedam halts, gazes absentmindedly out the window. His reflection staring back. You're slow. And always looking down— and it's exactly like—

“Whatcha’ looking at?” Doyoung's face is suddenly too close, and it makes Yedam jump back. Doyoung laughs easily, “You're such a wimp, Yedam!”

“You always appear so suddenly!”

“Ah, really? Sorry.” Yedam wonders why Doyoung's face softens when he rubs the back of his head. They walk into class together.

The voices again. They tell him he's amazing, and he's good, and they question why he's so good, and what can't he do?— and he stutters a bit— “W–well,”

Yedam just, he doesn't know. It's not like he doesn't like Doyoung, they just don't get along anymore— Yedam walks toward his desk, without saying anything. Misses the way Doyoung falters, the way he stares after him.

Your desk is beside Yedam's.

—

Yedam finds you.

At the library near school. Reaching high, on a stepping ladder. Fingers spread outward, touching. But missing the book your reaching for— Yedam turns. Frowning. Wishes this weren't happening, because he feels like he'd feel bad if he didn't help you, you look like you desperately need it—

“Are you okay?”

You stiffen. Face burning again, “Eh? Eh? I— Yed—” and Yedam moves toward you, “Move.”

You do, slowly. And you're burning so much, he feels like he can feel the flames touching his skin, a butterfly-touch, too soft— “Which one? I'll grab it for you.”

“Th– there's no need! You can't look!” And Yedam looks up toward the shelf where you were reaching— and he immediately wishes he hadn't tried to help you—

About romance, about love, about liking, about having crushes— he turns red. And your hands cover your face. Your blush is, infectious. Is all he thinks. And he's embarassed too.

He reaches up anyways. And he spreads his fingers out. Missing the book your reaching for too. Fingers grazing against it— he can't reach either— and when he does reach it, it's crammed too tightly between the other books. He gives up.

It's embarassing for the both of you — you both leave the library, and find yourselves at the intersection outside of the look. Waiting for the light to change color.

He can feel your gaze, sometimes it burns, and other times it's too light to even feel— you look like you want to say something.

You do. “Um... — S–so... Yedam!” And he looks at you. You're set ablaze, and you're staring at him. Bright. Radiate. The universe. Silence surrounds you, and the street noise is faded. “... (name)?”

You jump. Burning even more. “Ah! I— I'm sorry!” The light changes color. And Yedam is desperate to leave, to never try be around you again— he apologizes. “... No, I'm sorry about earlier, I went a little overboard.”

Your hands clasp together, close to your chest. “That's completely!—” And Yedam is staring at the light, wishing he could leave— your eyes shut tight, and you burn bright— Yedam begins to speak again, because the light is going to change soon, and he really wants to get to the other side of the street already, he's embarassed enough— “Well, I won't tell anyone so it's fine,” His hand gestures to the other side of the street, and you're burning up even more, “I've been out for a while, so I should probably head back now. Ah, well, I'll be–” then the light switches and his insides are screaming.

You don't mind though, and he thinks, of course you wouldn't— you fumble with your words, “Um... Yedam... I...— Well, I...”

“I have something I want to talk about with you!” Your eyes are closed tight when he looks to you, you burn beneath his stare— it must hurt— you've just shouted at him, and he thinks about how infectious your blush is— “Talk about? With me?” He questions. You open your eyes, and you nod a bit— “W-what...?”

“D... Doyoung... He...” Yedam stares. Waits for you. You inhale, before exhaling, the tension in your body leaving, but not entirely. “What kind of person is he?” Your hands come to your face, touching your cheeks— The universe, radiate, bright. “Doyoung?” He echoes, wondering why him, why why why— “Y-you and Doyoung are good friends so...” You reason softly, shyly, words almost tender— Yedam scratches his head, “but that's not really the case...” Because it isn't, they aren't good friends, they aren't close— “The discussion... It's about Doyoung? What kind of person is he?” It dawns on him. Softly, brightly— the library, the books, everything else.

“(name), could it be...” it's not far-fetched, why wouldn't you? his hand drops, and the world is still, “you like Doyoung?”

“E... Eh... Eh?!” You set ablaze. “Wh-why? Why? Wh–” You're burning, and Yedam just knows. You're so easy to read. “Well... no reason?” He says, and thinks, (name) and Doyoung, they won't get on well. It doesn't look like they have anything in common... But thinks about Doyoung, and remembers how well he gets along with everyone— This is about Doyoung. About you. About romance— crushes, love. “If it's that kind of conversation then I'm useless!” The light switches again, and he's moving to the train station, “When it comes to love advice I've got nothing!” Yedam says, chest tightening. “And I'm not that good of friends with Doyoung anymore...” You follow after him. Steps slower, softer, “That's... But you guys chat so easily!” Your hands are clasped tightly in fists, and Yedam— he keeps talking anyways. “We don't chat that much!” He argues back. Thinks different classes, we're on completely different fields— “Now, We're completely... – It's just that I've known Doyoung since primary school.” Different classes, different fields, different— “Our friend groups are different. He's in the baseball club, and I'm in the ‘go home’ club,” different classes, different fields, different— “Since we entered high school, we've been in completely different classes too. So–” Different classes, different fields, completely different— “We've been with him since primary school?” You question, making him stop. “Eh. Well–” He begins, before you cut him off.

“What was he like in primary school?” your eyes brighten, the universe— it does something to him, his chest tightens, a pressure growing in in his chest— sweat forms on his skin. Doyoung? What was he like? — “Doyoung hasn't changed at all. Same as now, he was everyone's favorite.” Is? Was? He doesn't know—

He thinks, about primary school, about Doyoung— “Whenever he started something new... It would become a fad for the entire class,” Classes, fields— Doyoung is in a class, in a different field— he thinks of primary school, thinks of Doyoung, and then thinks of battle pencils. “Ah, battle pencils.”

It's nostalgic thinking about it, reminds him of being a kid. When he was free and at ease to be one— you repeat after him, eyes brightened, searching, curious— “Pencils?” It makes him smile.

“You roll the pencil then battle with the side you rolled.” Yedam gestures, mimics a pencil rolling— it's weird, seeing him do it without a pencil, but it's enough, enough for you— “Back then, they were super popular! Doyoung started that one too.”

Thinking back, it's the most friends he's had— for a moment, it makes him happy, to have had more friends, to have been enough— he turns to you, and you stare at him. Pink embedded in your cheeks, like that's where it's supposed to bloom, and he thinks, what the hell am I talking about.

He doesn't realize the train is pulling in, and he's still. Standing there, with you— Yedam panics, “The train is already here,” He turns red. Face heating up. Setting ablaze. “W-well, if that's the case,” You let out a small noise, confused, curious— “Eh?” and Yedam says, “Bye.” Before he's running off.

You watch after him, and on the inside, Yedam is feeling so, embarassed.

—

“Are these okay?” You're holding your hands together, staring down at the battle pencils you set on his desk. Yedam stares, “How did you get these?” And you mumble, stutter over your words. “T– they're my brother's, but will they be okay?” And Yedam doesn't understand why you're asking him. Doesn't know— “Why?” He asks, he knows he's mentioned it— of course he does— what will they be okay for? Why?— Why ask him?— “What's that, Yedam?”

Doyoung is there. Reaching, and touching the pencils on his desk. Holding one in between his fingers, says, these are nostalgic, and you turn. Just a bit, and stare. You set ablaze, and Yedam swears he feels your cells burning.

“Where's this from, Yedam? Is it yours?” He's staring at you— Yedam is staring at you, and you do look like a hamster— one that's in trouble, and one that's shocked, it can't move— “Nah...” Yedam tells him, and burns too when he realizes how much you like Doyoung— burning so bright, and so hot— bright, radiate, the universe— “Huh? so it's (name)'s, then?” And you burn even more when Doyoung shifts his attention to you, you shake your head, body vibrating, trembling almost. “Huh? It's not?” Doyoung questions, uneased— “Apparently, they're her brother’s,” Yedam says, his face dropping. You lied, and he's not finding it amusing, it's getting annoying— “Ah,” Doyoung replies.

Your brows furrow, and you make a face at Yedam— fists coming up, and you turn to Doyoung, your mouth opens, and Yedam is thinking, you're about to talk— “Doyoung!” You say the same time Doyoung speaks, “By the way, Yedam!” His voice louder, clearer— Yedam burns a little, “Do you still have them?” Doyoung asks, and Yedam is confused a bit— because what? “The ones you were making!”

Doyoung holds up a battle pencil. Smiles, bright— “Custom battle pencils!” He says, and his smile is so bright, Yedam's chest begins to get heavy, “I used to really love those!”

“Custom?” Quiet, softly, you echo to Doyoung— and he's quick to look at you, leaning in, “Yeah! Yedam was super good!”

Yedam begins to burn, everything— from the back of his neck to the whole of his face— “That's a nice story but! Aren't these ones better, they look hard to make.” And Doyoung is getting the chair from your desk, and saying, “Let's do it, let's do it!”

Doyoung looks to you, “come on, (name) too!”

You burn, setting every cell in your aflame. “Eh?” And your face is red, so very red, “But...” Yedam is staring, “The rules...” Doyoung is sitting, staring so brightly at you, “You don't know them? That's fine, I'll teach you!”

You stare back, burning— bright, radiate, the universe— Doyoung smiles, eyes closing, curling, “Yeah?” And Yedam is thinking, good grief...

You three okay with the battle pencils, and without even knowing, Yedam ends up helping you with Doyoung, and that's fine.

After, when class begins. When he's sitting, staring ahead, thinking— you place a folded piece of paper on his desk and he looks to you, and unfolds it. The paper scratches against his skin when he opens it, his heart beats in his chest— and he just, doesn't know. Thank you for earlier.

Yedam looks at you, and your face is burning— you're already staring at him, and the book you have in your hands move a bit, away from your mouth, uncovering it. You smile, bright, radiate, the universe— your eyes are closed, and your face is pink, blooming— he burns too.

Doyoung watches, pencil pressing against his bottom lip.

—

At lunch, a day later, Doyoung's friends, the voices call for him— and he goes. You watch after him. Holding your pencil case full of battle pencils, just watching Doyoung— Yedam watches you.

He stands, “Ah! Yedam...” You say, so softly. Burning. “Today, do you...” He knows, yet he doesn't— “Nah,” he says, you flinch, eyes widening. “With just two people, it's...” You deflate, even more when Yedam says that. “... You're right.” A moment of silence, awkward, and too long— Yedam scratches his cheek. “You want to do it with Doyoung, anyway, right?” And you flinch again, burning, setting ablaze. “Then invite him, not me.”

Yedam stares at you, thinking, it's not like you'll do it— you look up at him, determined, “Ok!” And Yedam turns white, paling— you're going? You stand, and then you sit back down. “What should I say...” You're thinking aloud. And you look to him, “If it was you, what would you say?” And Yedam— he doesn't know, why are you asking him— “Eh?! Me?” Why am I apart of this— Yedam thinks aloud, “What would I... Would... Normally, I'd say yo.” There's a cold sweat forming. And his voice gets louder, “I have absolutely no idea!” He's annoyed, with himself, with—

“O... O- of course... I'm sorry...” A breath, soft. It's timid, and enough— Yedam stills. His annoyance halting completely, “You don't need to apologize...”

He stares at you, watching, lingering— your hair is different, tied into braids— puffy, and messy, and so, you— you touch the ends, and Yedam thinks, P.E. is today?

“Do we have P.E. today?” His head is tilting, staring at you— you straighten up, “Eh? I don't... Think so.” And you wonder too. He speaks again, gesturing to his hair, “It's just, tat you've tied your hair all up, and I thought you only tie your hair up when we have P.E...” He doesn't know how he knows— maybe because he's always shared classes with you— maybe because he—

You burn. Like always. “W- well. There's no special reason for it today.” And Yedam hums. And you touch the ends again, wondering. “I wonder... What hairstyles do boys like.” You brightened, burn a bit more. “Doyoung's prefered style... And stuff.”

“I don't really know Doyoung's preferences, but I don't think preferences mean anything really.”

You make a noise, and Yedam continues. “Honestly, when it comes to hair and stuff, guys don't notice small changes.” And he thinks, and yet he doesn't— “Obviously, if you go and cut it all off. You'd make an impression.” His hand gestures again, shorter this time. And you stare. A boy comes in, “Yedam,” and he turns, “Huh, Asahi?”

Asahi asks, “Can I borrow your dictionary?” and he sees you, “Are you in the middle of something?” Not anymore— Yedam says, “Nah...” Looks to you, before stepping away, “It's fine.”

He takes a glance back. Lingering, let's himself look— he's not thinking, when is he ever though?

—

He knows it'd happen, he should have known— but when he walks into class, he's surprised— “... (name)?” It's short, really short— touching your cheeks, it— it suits you. “That...” But he isn't thinking, not at all. “...Head...” And you smile, hand coming up, touching the ends of your hair, you smile again, just like before, when you handed him that note— thank you for earlier— and you ask, “How... Is it?” And Yedam is frozen.

Until Doyoung tells him good morning, his attention shifting to you— “Woah, what happened?!” It sets you ablaze, and Doyoung's tone is, nice, nicer than Yedam's. Doyoung sounds, impressed. “Amazing! You went and cut it all in one go!” And you don't burn, but Doyoung's eyes sparkle— they brighten, like how yours do when you see him— Yedam begins, says Doyoung's name because it might hurt you— “It looks good. It suits you.”

You burn this time. There's hesitation in your voice, a shake— so soft, slow— “I... I-i, it's not weir–” Your shoulders almost touch your chin, they're so bunched up— Doyoung cuts you off, “Looks good. It's great!” And he looks at Yedam, stares right at him, “Right, Yedam?” Smiles, so bright it hurts. Makes Yedam's chest feel heavy— Yedam looks at look, you're red and burning and bright and radiate and the universe—

A voice takes Doyoung away. And It's just you and Yedam, and Yedam moves. Scratches his head, and tries to sit down— setting his schoolbag down, not turning toward you, you whisper a thank you Yedam!, and he wonders— “What for?” And you repeat after him, slower— like— like him...

“My hair. You told me, I should cut it short. Thanks to you, he complimented me!” He hates it, he hates this— there's a heaviness on his shoulders, like responsibility—yet, why would you go so far? why? why—yet... “Thanks to me...? When did I say you should cut it short?” It's terrifying— feeling this much responsibility— it's your hair— you make a noise, confused, you're still smiling, bright, radiate, the universe— “Eh...? Yesterday, you said—”

And he doesn't mean it— maybe he does, maybe in the moment he means it, he doesn't know— when does he know?— He shouts. At you, at himself at everyone— because he wasn't thinking, when does he ever think?— “I didn't say... Anything like that!”

The world stills. And Everything is quiet except for his heart racing rapidly in his chest— he wasn't thinking— and he's running, only after seeing everyone, after seeing Doyoung staring at him— you chase after him. Asking him what's wrong, that you're sorry, that you didn't mean to hurt his feelings— he turns abruptly once you're outside, near a stone wall, lower enough to sit, shouting again, because that heaviness, it won't leave— “I didn't say like “you should cut it short” did I?” He heaves, “I take no responsibility!” and you echo the last word. You panic, arms coming to your head, “It... It's really that strange? It's weird?!”

“No! That's not it at all! It suits you!” His hands come to his head, he feels— he doesn't know— he wonders why him, why you would go so far, for someone like, someone like Doyoung. And you, you're so— “So far...? He complimented me, didn't he?” You're so you, you're so slow, and always looking down, and— you ask Yedam it so easily.

“He complimented you...”" Yedam repeats, echoes it so indifferently. “He complimented you, but.” He's no longer holding his head, his hands coming together. “(name), what do you want to do with your love for Doyoung,” you make a noise, and he continues, “You want to confess? Do you want to go out?” And you're burning, making noises, “Um...” And he shouldn't mean it, but he does. “You've got no chance!” And the world is still again. He apologizes, “Sorry, I... I knew Doyoung's preference... I mean, the person Doyoung likes is... Slim, tall, and older than him. Has a mature girl vibe. She's sporty and straight to the point. As well as very colorful, and says things clearly.” A heartbeat later, “And also... Has long straight, brown hair.” His chest is tightening, you're you— bright, radiate, the universe— he continues speaking, “You're saying that his characteristics are just your type, right? He might be the perfect fit for you, but maybe you're not the perfect fit for him.” You hand touches your mouth, your heart hurts— “In Doyoung's case...” Yedam stops.

“I see... So the complete opposite of me, isn't it?” And you ask him, “Is Doyoung dating that person right now?” And Yedam looks to you, “No, It's his unrequited love.”

You smile, glancing at the ground. Yedam stares. “Well then. I really am thankful. You thought I had no chance, didn't you?” your hands move, fingers spreading. “But... You told me that straight from the beginning, so...” You smile, eyes closed. Your fists tighten, “I'll do my best!”

“Eh?!” Yedam feels, surprised, and— “If Doyoung isn't dating anyone right now, I still have a change, right? Even though you said I'm not his type, even if just a little he mag start to like me... Just a little.” And your voice is beginning to trembling, beginning to shake— “Even just a little.” Your eyes are glossy, and you're smiling— your face does something weird, and you're crying, and Yedam panics. “Are you okay?!” And your voice is trembling, “I'm fine! It's nothing! It will stop soon!” And your face is still weird, eyes wet and face squished together, red and blotchy— “But your face is...” Yedam is— he doesn't know. And a slow realization grows, he asks, “are you crying... Because of that?” Because maybe he'll like you, even just a little? Because, maybe he won't?

“I'm not crying!” You say, and your face twists, relaxes. Then you say, “Because I decided to change. I'll give up. I can't do it. I thought before doing this, I had no chance. But if I didn't do it, I would regret it... I won't like myself if I stay like this.” Yedam feels relieved, even though he had no reason to. Thinks, you won't have any regrets if you understand yourself and know your place. More than that, this— you won't have any reason to dislike yourself.

You're crying. And Yedam is awkward, heart beating heavy in his chest. “So... Are you going to stop crying?” Your hands cover your face, you burn, set ablaze— he's unaware of the cells beginning to burn in him— “don't look!” you say.

He remembers something, “You know, if you don't want to cry... Opening your mouth a little helps,” He opens his mouth a bit, staring intently at you, and your uncovering your face, “like this,” he says. His mouth open, “when you open your mouth, you can't focus on other things,” his mouth closes, and he stares, at the glossiness of your eyes, the sheen of glass, the tears threatening to fall, and the pink blooming in your cheeks— “so you won't cry.” Yedam opens his mouth, head tilting back. And you copy, slowly. Staring at one another until your tears at gone, and you both laugh— at free, and at ease.

“Yedam... I'm starting to like this hairstyle.”

—

Doyoung finds Yedam, Doyoung calls out Yedam's name, and he walks near, closer— “What was up earlier? You don't normally raise your voice like that,” Yedam stands, and so do you, “Ah.” Doyoung says. And he leans toward Yedam, quietly asking, “Did I get in the way here?” and Yedam asks, “Of what?”

“Huh? What was wrong earlier?” And Yedam stiffens, flinches, “Nothing really...” And you and Yedam both say, “It was my fault,” at the same time, it's enduring. You both argue, back and forth— “Huh? You're wrong, I said it's my fault,” Yedam begins, and you mumble, “Eh? That's not right, it's my fault!” “I told you, you're wrong, it's my fault!” “Why? I selfishly–” “Wrong.” “Why, I–” — Doyoung laughs, smiles. His hands raise, and they touch your heads, ruffling hair.

Life is a series of choices. In your first year of high school, you three, — maybe everyone, was living in ambivalence, choosing careers, taking exams, the future is spread out before you. It was going to be hectic, at this stage... The three of you landed in the same class. Best friends... Lovers... At this time, Yedam doesn't know how it ends.

#here is my christmas gift to u! #open it! it's a headcanon series <3 #treasure #bang yedam #yedam #doyoung #kim doyoung #yoshinori #asahi #choi hyunsuk #kim junkyu #treasure imagines #treasure scenarios #treasure fluff #treasure angst #treasure x reader #yg treasure box #treasure 13 imagines #treasure 13 #bang yedam imagines #yedam imagine #yedam imagines #yedam scenarios #ygtb yedam #yedam edits #yedam lockscreens #doyoung imagines #dodam #i cant write 😼 #dialogue heavy

[windblooms]

matchups.

hihi :’) way overdue – but here are the matchup requests that i received.  please check for yours below if it was sent in!  ctrl+f on desktop for your mbti/zodiac, or something you remember adding in if the post is too long to scroll through.

Hello! I'm INFP and 98% Type 4 & 92% Type 9. I'm a sun Pisces & moon Aquarius. I'm fairly introverted but can be kinda silly if I'm trying to be social. I'm also empathetic & sympathetic with plenty of self-confidence issues. My main hobbies are playing games, looking into social issues, thinking about game characters,etc. I keep bouncing between visions but Geo might be fitting since current Geo characters are a little more on the introverted side. Not sure if I'm late but wanted to try <3 I'm the INFP Pisces & Aquarius Geo asker and forget to mention that I'd like 1 platonic and 1 romantic!

romantic match-up: kaeya.

although it might be odd at first to pair him with a sensitive and introverted soul such as yourself, on the contrary, kaeya won’t have any issues relating to your emotional nature, even if outwardly it doesn’t seem so (behind his light-hearted and diplomatic dialogue, he’s got a transactional relationship with the knights he’s “loyal” to; his own brother is distasteful towards him; and he’s got an agenda that goes against everything he currently lives with.)  he’ll get a knack out of teasing you when the mood is fitting, and while he may not be the one to give you the best of pep-talks, his self-assured disposition does have its uses: confident words soothe over the creases of your worries and troubling thoughts, and when things are more light-hearted, the two of you will bounce off of each others’ playful mannerism.

platonic match-up: barbara.

barbara is a sweetheart who’s incredibly devoted to both her companions and her aspirations.  wholesome and energetic, she’s sure to keep you on your toes dancing, whether it be about how beautiful it is outside or the potential of a rainbow after a storm.  while she’s a clear extrovert, barbara is also insightful to the feelings of others – after all, an idol must understand her crowd! – so she’s sure to dial down the energy if you’re ever feeling weary that day.

hihi !! can i please submit myself for the matchups ? i'm intp-t, scorpio sun and leo moon. i'm 5'11, female, and am described to be a very energetic person. i like to think optimistically and have a special love for philosophy and chemistry !! my hobbies include reading and writing - i've also recently picked up baking. i think i would have a hydro vision in genshin - hydro users tend to be healers, and i think that's something i would specialize in. can i please have 2 romantic matchups 🥺

i'm the scorpio sun leo moon intp matchup ask !! i forgot to mention that my enneagram type is seven, sorry 😔

romantic match-ups: childe/tartaglia and jean. 

childe hyperfixates on individuals he deems strong.  while this usually translates into people who have experience on the battle field, in your case, he finds it admirable that you’re able to keep up with so many hobbies and interests.  your thirst for new experiences and stimuli is akin to his own sense of adventure, and your devotion to each and every one of them resonates with his own conviction to his aspirations.  you’re strong mentally, and when you interact, he always has to dedicate himself to you fully in order to keep up; there’s never a dull moment when you’re around him.

a workaholic in denial, jean’s position as acting grand master never gives her a break.  she’ll insist that she’s fine, that she’s content with her oversight of the knights, that they are her priority.  and while this is true, when you talk about how your interests range from chemistry to baking, it’ll remind her of the time she doesn’t have to do “normal people things.”  again, not that she’s miserable with the knights, far from it – it’s just that your life and spontaneity reminds her of the things outside of the knights that she wishes she could do, too.  your genuine energy never fails to make her smile – perhaps you were who she’s been waiting for.

hi, congrats on the 1k followers! i really enjoy your writing and i’m glad to see that you’re doing well! i hope the rest of 2021 goes well for you!

for the matchup event, i’d like one platonic and one romantic relationship. i'm an infp, 6w5, scorpio sun and virgo moon. my attention span isn’t the best and i’m an impulsive dumbass, but i still manage to get good grades somehow. i try to be sociable, but i have a habit of clamming up so i usually just end up sticking to the people i know. i’m kinda all or nothing with the effort i put into things; i run out of steam pretty easily so i tend to leave things unfinished, which i hate, but sometimes i’ll go wild and finish a semester-long project in one afternoon. overall, i really like helping others and being seen as reliable! i was really dependent on others in the past, and although i still kinda am now, i’m trying to be someone others can depend on.

as for hobbies, i mostly just play video games and scary stories. i’m also into a lot of crafts, particularly knitting and bracelet-making. i find the motions relaxing, but i enjoy it the most when i have someone to make things for.

as for my vision, i think hydro suits me best because it seems more support-oriented overall, which is the kind of role i’d like to have. however, that doesn’t mean that it can’t be used to do some serious damage if needed.

has lots of energy that’s hard to direct, but can plow through things they set their mind to.  likes security of things they know, and wants to give security as well.  creative outlets.  seems a bit finicky?  but insightful with their own emotions. 

romantic match-up: mona.

outwardly stubborn but inwardly self-critical, mona has dedicated her entire life to the stars, and it shows: her masterful grip on astrology is nothing to scoff at, and she’s arguably the most practiced mage in all of teyvat.  at first, she’ll be baffled at your impulsiveness and “lack of focus”: how will you ever get anything done? she’ll wonder.  but when you prove her time and time again that you can plow right through an obstacle just like scissors through paper, so long as it seizes your interest, she’ll take moments to think about her own outlook on life.  when she realizes your comfort in abstract, artistic past-times, she might ask cutely for you to teach her.  surely, if she can talk to the stars, she can make bracelets . . . ?  o-of course they’d be for you!  who else would they be for, if not someone she deems endearing.

platonic match-up: beidou. 

the personification of a tidal wave, beidou’s ferocity hits hard and leaves a mark.  the two of you will find it easy to bounce off of each others’ ideas – maybe even concerningly so to the rest of the crew – and hell, she might even sway you to sneak into a hilichurl village to steal some carrots if it’ll provide for some overdue fun.  lots of  pats  slaps on the back, and she’ll always beckon you over when she learns about something new, thinking that you might find it interesting, and when she wants someone else’s input.  she trusts your judgement like family, and knows that you’ve always got her.

hi! i would like to request a genshin character matchup (2 romantic). my mbti is infj and enneagram 2. i am a cancer sun and aries moon. i am calm and reliable, but i do have a mischievous side and use a lot of dry humor. when it comes to having fun, i like to enable others! i am also deeply passionate about community service. my hobbies include yarn crafting. my genshin vision would be cryo because i am highly motivated by love/emotion, can come off as cold, and love the ice aesthetic! tysm!

romantic match-ups: diluc and lisa.

often broody and contemplative, diluc has a whirlwind of thoughts in that hard head of his.  through your first interactions, he’ll piece together your intense devotion towards your loved ones and willingness to help others.  he’ll warn you that you should take time to consider yourself, too, and that it shouldn’t always be give, give, give, but those same traits in you that he worries about are the same qualities that draw him in.  once, too, he was as uninhibited as you, had the same energy.  perhaps it’s because you’re both so similar, both in internal hopes and mannerisms, is why he finds it easier to loosen up – even if he doesn’t immediately let go of that deadpan attitude of his when he knows you can come back just as hard.

she’s enthralled by your willingness to engage in her banter.  often, those she teases (flirtatiously or otherwise) leave with a red face and an adorable stutter, but it just so happens that you’re one to fluster her instead.  it’s been a long time since she’s met someone who can keep her guessing, yet is incredibly insightful to themselves and those around them.  she finds your qualities of fun and sincerity to be charming.  you’re a breath of fresh air compared to the stern knights she’s around all day, and she looks forward to meeting you after work, conversing with you as you walk down mondstadtian streets and eat over dinner.  there’s never a dull quip from your lips, and she’d love to hear everything on your mind.

hii hope I'm not making this too hard on u lol one romantic and one platonic please! either gender is fine I'm bi as Hecc mbti: enfp-t sun taurus moon aries I think my vision would be cryo because people say it's connected to loss and I've lost some pretty important people to me and also. I hate the heat I really like cards, wolves and the stars, my hobbies include working with robots and the general aesthetic of the mid 2000s, my favorite season is winter and I love buying ppl gifts ♡

platonic match-up: chongyun. 

immediately, your avoidance of heat and affinity to the calm will give him someone to relate to, and your attraction to the abstract will pique his interests.  (perhaps, once he’s become more confident with his exorcist abilities, he could pick up some of your hobbies?)  your practicality, in contrast to his often self-critical mindset, will ground him in times of need, and he’ll always ask you if he can help you out in return.  while he looks up to you as an individual, he’s honored to also be your friend, or at least someone you devote time to.

romantic-matchup: ningguang.

you both understand sacrifices and loss.  while it’s a rather bleak realization upon getting to know each other, your rationality and perseverance despite the past stirs her respect for you; your mindsets are incredibly alike, and she’ll often input your reasoning into her plans, and deem you a trusted associate of the liyue qixing.  in her demanding position, you are someone she can readily relate to and rely on.  in times when things are less hectic and the two of you can more freely relax, she’ll indulge in a shopping spree with you.  as someone who’s intimate with her in both profession and emotional relations, she’d love to show her gratitude. 

hi! i'd like to participate on the match up event!

i'm an infp, and also type six on the enneagram test, my sun sign is aries and my moon sign is pisces. i like arts in general with my favourite ones being music and painting, but i also enjoy writing and i spend a lot of time songwriting! also as a person i'm rlly clumsy and i kind of look mean bc of my resting bitch face lol. i think my vision would be anemo because i think it can be really useful in many ways and i like the reactions it has with other visions. i'd like two romantic match ups! i hope this was understandeable, as my english isn't the best. thank you! 💌

romantic-matchups: mona and zhongli.

mona will find your interest in the arts intriguing.  you always seem to get ideas at the most random of times, often startling her with how active your mind is.  and despite how she doesn’t reply much in return – she’s not versed in words or drawings, even if she won’t verbally admit it – you seem to be satisfied with her . . . reactions?  even if the most she can relate them to is astrology, it seems to be enough for you, so long as she isn’t uptight that day.  your creativity and attraction to the abstract gives her comfort: there aren’t many people in mondstadt who appreciate her profession, so even if you aren’t into the exact same things, she’ll at least know that there’s someone who looks forward to seeing her.

on his quest to “learn what being a human” is, zhongli encounters a myriad of occupations.  typically, the people of liyue are wound up with economics and realism, but your joy in the possibilities – how you can convey your emotions, through what mediums – of life has to offer reminds him of humanity.  with you, he’ll explore what mortals call “the small things” in life: akin to the spark of appreciation for flying lanterns, autumn-colored lights at night, feelings of wonder – that’s what you instill in him. 

hello!! id like a matchup please!! im an INTP-T and im Type 5,, im capricorn sun and libra moon. im a reserved person and kind of angry all the time,, and i get overwhelmed easily. im not that good with affection,, but me actually welcoming you into conversation or my room or smthn, or actually responding to you means something. im just scared to be open with affection because its always done me wrong in the past. anyways,, id like a platonic matchup and romantic matchup please!! thank u and congrats!!🥳🥳❤️❤️

hello,, im that Capricorn sun libra moon anon,,, very sorry to disturb you,,, but i didn’t mention what my vision would be!! i think id be pyro,, ive always been a bit cold or i usually shun people away,, so i think id be cryo!!!! or maybe hydro because im constantly having a mental breakdown LMAO(but i fr think id be cryo)

platonic match-up: sucrose.

while she’s constantly on-edge from work, sucrose will always make time to check on her dear friend.  after all, you do the same for her, even if you insist that you might not have the right words ready.  “partners in stress,” kaeya would teasingly dub the two of you as, but you don’t pay mind to him.  as quiet and reserved individuals, you find tranquility within each others’ company.  

romantic match-up: venti.

whimsical and regarded as a mere bard by most, venti puts up a convincing front.  but it’s just that: a front.  the real venti is concealed by a chipper voice and mercurial agenda, when underneath, there’s a solemn musician who’s burdened.  you’ll most likely be off-put by his facade, as he’s trained himself to constantly be lively – comes with being a performer – but will soon find that he understands your turmoil.  he’s not the best with sentimental words, but will instead convey his sympathies through strums of his lyre.  while it isn’t obvious that there’s security in freedom, he’ll be sure to encourage you that there’s a way.

Hello Al! For the match-up event would it be possible for me to ask for 1 romantic and 1 platonic? As for my MBTI I am an INFJ-T. As for the ennseagram I am 98% type five and 90% type 6. I am a Taurus sun and an Aquarius moon. I tend to come off as polite and often times a bit shy/reserved irl. I love learning new things. Conversations that have all parties thinking critically are definitely my favorites. My hobbies are writing, drawing, learning new things, reading, and playing video games. As for Genshin vision I'd have to say cryo. I've taken a quiz on quotev and got a tie between cryo and anemo. Cryo's description seemed to fit my personality better. I also seem to have a connection with the cold. Let me know if you need any more info. Remember to take care of yourself. ~Taylor💙

platonic match-up: albedo.

you both have your inquisitive sides, and albedo is more than willing to talk to you about his discoveries.  while he might not proactively reach out to you – more like, if you’re nearby, and he happens to catch you peeping at his work, he’ll engage with you.  he finds your takes thought-provoking and your candor respectful; a fellow of agreeable disposition, your calmness and supplementing nature also makes it easy for him to work.

romantic match-up: zhongli.

both intuitive and practical in your approaches, zhongli’s given a new perspective when you converse, or at least, a new thing to ponder over.  many regard him as stiff besides his gentlemanly disposition; your focused and insistent care will enrapture him as heartwarming, that there are “acceptable” vulnerabilities, but they’re not weak points at all – far from it.  your security and assuredness is harmonious with your emotion insight, making for a stable lifestyle that he easily molds into.  the conversations that the two of you engage in are nothing short of provocative.  just as much as he learns from you, he also provides with tales of the old days. 

Is - is the matchup thing still relevant? If not you can just ignore this message - its ok, i know ur busy :)

If it is still on tho, i wonder if i could get a platonic and romantic one?

Im a INFP-T(??), Type 4, pisces sun sag moon.

Im a dumb nerd with big glasses who loves t shirts with puns ot jokes on it. Im not sure about my hobbies, i just like anything that can make me think - memes, books, music, games with lore. I dont like boring, overly normal stuff. I have shitty sense of direction and i suck at math.

I think that my vision would be anemo since thats (i think) an element that requires both creativity and knowledge to work with, which is very special and interesting to me.

Thank you so much in advance! Or sorry if i sent this too late 😅

platonic match-up: xinyan.

both of you are free-flowing and seek excitement.  you’re the gasoline to xinyan’s match: you both feed off of each others’ knack for new things, stimuli, and the bold.  you could be walking down the streets of liyue, eating bags of mora meat, and then suddenly run down to the northern wharf to catch passing boats and playfully debate over which snobby aristocrat is being shipped off.  there’s never a dull moment between the two of you, and the plan is always no plan.  spontaneity is the name of the game, and it’s one that you can go at for ages. 

romantic match-up: beidou.

there’s hardly a moment to breathe on the crux fleet, that’s for sure.  be prepared to explore the entirety of teyvat with beidou, because she’s got you covered with all of your “new thing” needs, alongside your ocean-borne family.  she’ll find it humorous that you’re not practiced in navigation – ironic for a seafarer.  but steering is complex, and she’d gladly help you out in learning, just another thing to do in a day’s work. 

Hi! For the match up event, I'm 98% type 3 and a 97% type 7, I'm am Intp and my moon sign is scorpio, my sun sign is Pisces. I'm above than average in math and I like to draw from time to time, I've tried to learn the ukelele but ultimately failed. I'd like my vision to be an electro cause my fav color is purple and I like how the electricity sparks and stops my enemies, I'm also a fan fic writer and love manhwas

Hi! I'm the last anon that you reminded that should have put 2 romantic in the ask! Sorry about that, it just completely flew over my head

romantic match-ups: ningguang and childe/tartaglia.

your ambition knows no bounds, and your drive is a force to be reckoned with.  some may call your approaches headstrong, but your ability to take initiative is something that ningguang greatly admires.  it’s something she professes that you two have in common – granted, even if her economic tendencies are more cutthroat.  while the two of you have incredibly firm opinions that might send shocks across the room you’re debating in, ningguang trusts your rational thought and explorative mindset.  your like-mindedness, in this instance, brings great relief to her in her position.

childe is also someone who would take interest in you.  he’s not one for schemes like the rest of the harbingers, and would appreciate your straightforward approaches and the focused energy you put into each project/obstacle you face.  it makes it easier for him to speak his mind, and he’ll find comradery with you fairly easy to come by.  gradually, the zeal the two of you share can draw you into more adventures, and he’ll have someone he can call a trustworthy partner. 

Hello! For your generous match-up event, could I request two romantic matches please? My MBTI type is INFP and my enneagram type is four. My sun sign is Aries and my moon is Gemini. I am a quiet but curious person who can be really flirty and sarcastic in private. I am very caring to those I love. My hobbies including writing and drawing. For my vision, I think I would be cryo? I’m a secretive person who has trust issues and can be cruel. I love your blog, you’re so skilled! Thank you so much!

romantic match-ups: kaeya and jean.

you’re a trusted soul by all, even if many also regard you as reserved.  kaeya isn’t one to grow attached (it’s hindered him in the past), however after being paired with you on multiple missions, he’ll feel more at ease around you due to your good nature.  your duality is also a breath of fresh air, and each time he talks to you afterwards, he’s reminded that there are individuals who have others’ best interests at heart.  many knights will catch the two of you tossing jokes back and forth at each other, but for once, kaeya isn’t trying to swindle anybody. 

the acting grand master has a lot on her plate, but she finds that when she’s in your company, the tray is a little lighter.  she relates to your sincerity and good intentions, a welcome refresher in the world of forced diplomacy and tedious hours.  you also seem to know just the right things to say to lighten the mood, with a cute smile to top it all off. 

hello! Could I request 2 romantic match-up? I'm ENFP, enneagram 2w3. Sun Sagittarius, Moon Scorpio, Asc. Virgo. My hobbies consist of anything generally creative, gaming/anime, hanging out with friends esp!! I'm the type of person to show affection by physical touch and by gentle ribbing-- I love making other people laugh. I'm always down to do things, new or not, and an honest and easy-going person. My Vision would be Geo bc I think it reflects how I am as a person-- stable n loyal :) thank u!!

romantic match-ups: venti and beidou. 

no one would’ve thought that you and venti would be a pair – then again, when they consider your tendencies for jokes and charisma, it’ll all come together.  wherever the two of you go, laughter follows, like dandelions in the breeze.  venti hits it off with you almost immediately after you meet, your natural social nature enabling easy conversation.  you’re also very zealous with topics that pique your interest.  it’s a genuine, eager curiosity that he can’t help but consider endearing.

the two of you are always searching for new things, be it small islands in the horizon or neat little specialties that you manage to catch in the corner of your eye.  there’s never a dull moment when the two of you get going on ideas, and while you may be the more rational, beidou will always insist on adding some more “zest” into whatever you come up with.  if you push her, she might accidentally shove you off the boat with the playful enthusiasm of a golden retriever. 

Hiya~! Thank you both for doing this! For the character match-up, I'd like to request two (2) Romantic please lmao, with a side of French fries.

I'm an INFP, Libra sun/Scorpio moon. My external personality might lead ppl to think I'm a charismatic extrovert, but that's the face I show for the 5 whole minutes I'm socializing, and then return to my introvert turtle shell for the next week. I cycle through hobbies since I get bored quickly, but I always come back to music since singing is my passion. I know for sure my Vision would be Anemo bc I need to be free to feel comfortable and tend to react rather aggressively when I feel restrained 🤔

I'm deeply emotional, sometimes impulsive, and dislike relying on others. I tend to be cat-like in my affections... sometimes I Love, other times Do Not Want. Except for animals, they always get my love ❤ ehehe....

romantic match-ups: mona and kaeya.

mona considers your nature incredibly easy to grasp.  but don’t take it as an insult or offense – in fact, your simplicity is a constant in mona’s life: you like time to yourself, and when you’re alone is when your energy comes out.  she doesn’t have to worry about reading too much into your feelings when she can see that you’re independent.  your interactions are calm and reassuring; she doesn’t have to be uptight around you, because she knows you trust in her abilities and lifestyle, and security with herself and those she cares about is her top priority. 

kaeya’s able to relate to your social tendencies.  there’s a front that he puts up in front of his colleagues (purely for professional purposes) before reverting back to his natural state of mind.  he finds your distance understandable, and considers it something the two of you have in common.  when you talk one-on-one, it’s easy to bounce ideas off of each other about mondstadtian culture and other topics of interest; while your independent natures may lead to some time apart, there will always be fresh experiences waiting when you do meet again.

#matchup reqs

[laceymorganwrites]

SFW alphabet: Semi

A=Affection

Semi is the kind of guy who always takes care of you. He shows his affection in soft touches, reminding you to bring your jacket, to pack your bag, to eat and drink etc. He doesn´t do this in an obnoxious manner either, it´s not annoying with him, he just wants to make sure you´re taking care of yourself. 

B=Breath

Everything about you takes his breath away. You´re his muse, his drive, his happiness. When you hum one of his songs, he always feels so special and another thing that takes his breath away is every time you take him out on a spontaneous surprise date.

C=Cuddle

He loves cuddling you. His favorite position is when you lay sideways and he can hold your hand, interwining your fingers with each other. He also loves to trace his fingers over your cheek, loves looking at you. Semi thinks you´re the prettiest thing in the world and he loves being close to you.

D=Dream

Semi can´t wait to move in with you, to get a nice apartment or house and spend the rest of his life with you. Somehow the thought of getting all the furniture you need with you, makes him feel all fuzzy and warm inside. He loves dreaming about your future with you, thinking about living with you, waking up with you every day and nothing could make him happier.

E=Effort

He definitely makes a lot of effort in your relationship even though it doesn´t always seem that way. Semi is rather miniscule and doesn´t do over the top things, he´s not one for big gestures but he does the small things that count, like remembering those things you told him that you didn´t think he would.

F=Fear

Doesn´t know how to handle you being scared, he hates it when you feel this way. Always tries his best to calm you down, he will do anything to distract you and never fails to take your fear away even though he´s not too confident in his own abilities to do so.

G=Gifts

He does give you gifts occasionally, he gives you things that remind him of you and things he knows you like and might need. Most importantly though he writes songs and poems for you and he always sketches you.

H=Hugs

Even after graduation he never stopped playing volleyball and working out. Sure it´s not as regularly as it used to be but still, his arms are very strong and hugging you is his favorite. You´re his anchor, when he hugs you, he feels so safe and like he can just let go, like he can be himself and that to him means the world. When he hugs you, he doesn´t have any responsibilities, there´s just you and him.

I=Intimacy

Semi is actually a very intimate person, he loves being close to you. You´re the only thing he looks forward to after a tiring day at work. You quite literally are his happiness and he loves being with you. 

J=Jealous

He´s not the jealous type at all, he trusts you. You two talk a lot and about everything too, so jealousy really isn´t a problem. He trusts you and knows you won´t ever go behind his back with someone. Also he thinks being jealous can become toxic pretty quick, so if he ever should feel this way, he´ll definitely talk to you about it so that yoou two can figure out the reason behind it.

K=Kiss

His kisses are very soft and slow, they feel like falling into the ocean, but the ocean is a nice and warm temperature (wow my descriptive skills rlly are shit lol). Semi also loves taking his time with you whenever he kisses you, will deepen the kiss most of the times, he just can´t help himself. Loves giving you hand kisses, is overall pretty obsessed with your hands, he thinks they´re so pretty.

L=Love

Oh the big l word is scary to him. He´ll take a long time saying it, hell even thinking about it scares him because that means what you have is real. Commitment overall is really scary for him because he´s scared of rejection. All things come to an end and he doesn´t want to think about that. But don´t worry, he´ll say it in his own time, you just have to be patient. Don´t expect to hear those words too often, they hold a very big meaning to him and Semi only ever tells you he loves you when he´s overwhelmed with feelings.

M=Marriage

I don´t think Semi thinks of marriage too much in the beginning of your relationship, but once you reach that point where you just know that you won´t spend your life without the other, he starts thinking about it seriously. He´ll ask you on the couch one night and you discuss the pros and cons rather than him romantically proposing to you. The wedding itself will be small with only your close circle invited.

N=Night out

He takes you backstage to his gigs, goes to fancy bars with you, finds really niche cafes that sell the weirdest food combinations but it kind of works? He also loves night strolls on the weekend with you (when he doesn´t have work in the next morning he doesn´t mind staying up with you since he can´t fall asleep etiher way). I also think he´s a big fan of going to the cinema, but those small ones that show all the indie films.

O=Out of the ordinary

He´ll do everything for you as long as it´s reasonable. Say you´re too tired to get the groceries one day and he´ll do it. He won´t quit work earlier for you though, he also won´t stay up until ungodly hours with you, he sleeps badly enough as it is and he doesn´t want to risk losing his jobs when he´s tired the whole day. 

P=Playful

Well, Semi isn´t really playful in a relationship. Being in love is very serious for him and what you have is something very special. Also he has a very dry humor, so he won´t ever straight up goof around with you. However he´ll crack jokes at the most random times. 

Q=Questions

He´s not a monster, of course he cares about your opinions. He also likes having conversations about politics, the environment and all sorts of other things, like the planning of his next album etc. He really appreciates your help with his music too, he´s so glad to have someone else to help him choose which album cover to choose, which songs to cut etc.

R=Random

Because of his job he can´t really be spontaneous, but he doesn´t like planning dates either excpet when it´s an important one (e.g. your birthday). So usually when he´s free you´re quite spontaneous and just do whatever you feel like in the moment.

S=Sleep

Semi has trouble falling asleep and wakes up at least three times in the middle of the night. With you around it´s easier for him though. Loves holding you in his arms when he sleeps, your presence calms him down immensely.

T=Trust

He trusts you completely even though it took him a long time. It´s not like he ever doubted you, it´s just that he doesn´t trust people overall. He´s the kind of guy to only see the bad in people sadly. But as cheesy as it sounds, you make him believe in the good in people again. 

U=Unique

Semi seems very uncaring as a partner, but he´s really not. He´s the kind of partner that´s very perceptive, he always knows what you need even though you never said it. Sometimes it´s scary how well he knows you. At the same time he acts like it´s not a big deal too, because to him it isn´t. He really isn´t big on romance but he tries his best to give you everything you need and more.

V=Vulnerable

Semi doesn´t like showing his emotions at all, so being vulnerable around you is very hard and will take a long time. Doesn´t cry often and makes sure to be alone when he does. Pushes you away at first, but doesn´t mean any harm. You have to be persistent though and he´ll open up over time. No matter how many times he´s vulnerable around you, he always hates the feeling.

W=Wildcard

He always loses his notebooks and lyrics sheets which sucks because he doodles and writes in them, so you made it a habit to stick the sheets to the fridge or something similar so that he doesn´t lose them anymore. For the lost notebooks you always make sure to search his and your place and when you find them you collect them in a box until you can give them back to him.

X=X-Ray

Semi is quite calm on the outside and will definitely know what to do when you´re injured. He´ll make sure you´re calm too and stay by your side all the time. 

Y=Yuck

He doesn´t like it when his S/O is obnoxiously loud or self centered. He loves it when you get excited about things, he loves it when you share your passions and is always so happy when you do, but something that gets on his nerves is really when you´re arrogant and selfish, only make things about yourself and are just too loud. He doesn´t like overly loud people too much.

Z=Zeal

Semi is passionate in his own way, you can always see the little sparkle in his eyes when it comes to you and his hobbies. He doesn´t express it as vividly as others might, but you can always tell when his lips curl up in that little smile of his which he always tries to suppress.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu semi #semi x reader #semi eita #semi imagine #semi headcanons #semi hcs #hq #hq imagine #hq headcanons #hq hcs #hq semi

[smilepal]

3, 8, 18, 19, 20, 24, 29 for the 2077 game! <3

Answers for @noirapocalypto for the CP 2077 Question Game--thanks for asking! Always happy to talk about my characters and not write the final papers hanging over my head 

3.)  In what ways do you see yourself in your V/OC?

We definitely have some similar interests--motorcycles, baking, dancing, and clothing. The snarky sense of humor(especially as a defense mechanism)/resting bitch face are also something we have in common. I wish I had more of his “I don’t really care what people think of me?” attitude though--I’m definitely way more self-conscious than he is. The stubborness is something we definitely have in common though (and the anxiety--could do without that bit 😅)

8.)  If you could have anyone as a companion in 2077, who would it be?

I really like the idea of being able to have some of the characters like Claire or Dum Dum as companions--we get to see a little of them in their respective quests but it’d be nice to see more depth with them, even if we didn’t get romances necessarily. It would just be nice to get to know them a little better/be able to hang out outside of missions--go grab a drink or play a game of darts/pool or something? Or it’d be nice having Johnny show up more often--I liked his snarky narration, and it’d be fun to hear it more often. 

18.)  What’s a mission or side gig you loved?

I really liked Raymond Chandler Evening because of the running commentary from Johnny. It wasn’t super challenging and we also got to see more of Pepe and learn a little bit about him/his wife, which was interesting too. Stadium Love was one of the most satisfying missions in the game and being able to break up a 6th street party was a good time indeed. I also thought the River series of side-quests was really well done. I’m a huge horror movie buff and it was one of the few missions in the game that was legitimately scary (that and the Maelstorm cyberpsycho quest).

19.) What’s a mission or side gig you hated?

Words cannot describe how much I hate the last fight on Beat in the Brat. I had a built specifically for melee/gorilla arms/was nearly max level and it still sucked. Every other fight up until the last one was fine but I was really close to just giving up on it. There’s also one where you need to sneak into a militech compound in the badlands and not kill anybody, which fine. I get it. But it somehow logs non-lethal damage as failing the mission. I’m so not sneaky. Maybe it’d be easier with a stealth-based character or one with really high intelligence. 

20.) Do you actually go out and buy vehicles or do you stick with the ones you already have?

I usually just go and buy the Yaiba Kusanagi as soon as I have the eddies saved up for it. I love the black Rayfield Caliburn you can get for free but I’m not very good at driving it so I usually just stick to bikes--easier to weave in and out of traffic and the handling is just so much less squirrely.

24.) Who’s a character you wish you could’ve saved or seen more of?

JACKIE. Okay, but if not him than Johnny. I wish we’d had an ending where both him and V could have made it, even if it was really challenging to get. Even the happiest endings are still depressing as fuck, honestly and just one with even a glimmer of hope would have been nice. 

29.) If there were 3 things you could change about the storyline or game structure, what would they be?

More love interests for sure! I like the existing ones but it felt really limited--even DA had more. A canon happy ending? Please? I’m writing my own damn happy ending because I don’t think they’re going to be giving us one anytime soon. I wish our actions in-game had more influence with the various gangs in Night City. When they dropped one of the trailers it seemed like the specific factions would be more involved, and it’d be interesting to see how doing missions involving one group might not endear other gangs to you/impact your reputation. Especially as someone playing a street kid, it’d be nice to see them react differently to that--maybe specific weapons/clothing/quests depending on who you side with? I’m cheating and adding a fourth thing I’d like to see--better tattoo customization options. We get cool Valentino tattoos but I’d love to see some more diverse options--or really crazy cybernetic mods. 

#cyberpunk 2077 #ask game #cp 2077

[zagubionywilk]

USE THIS WEBSITE TO GENERATE YOUR MUSE’S POKEMON TEAM.

usually this is a meme but fuck that,  i’m stealing this from one of my other blogs so i guess i’m re   -   tagging myself.    anyway,    i’ve been lagging on writing up geralt’s pokemon au  /  team for awhile so    . .    lo and behold here we go we did it boys.  the   au itself   is effectively a side step version of his    modern au    but,    you know,    pokemon.    tl;dr:    geralt’s been alive since 1925 and wandering around doing witchery stuff as usual for people with his pokemon in tow helping him out and assisting him whenever he needs assistance getting rid of  monsters.    there comes a time where the wolf becomes worn out and  semi  -  retires   on his corvo bianco ranch as he occasionally goes out to help folks,    again with his pokemon in tow,    when necessary.    pokemon ages  ??   who knows and cares,  leave me and his pals alone   --------    now,  time to meet the team:

geralt’s pokemon partner    and    first pokemon is his mudsdale,    roach    with the moveset:  double kick,    heavy slam,    high horsepower and stomp.    he’s had her since she was itty bitty and a mudbray when he survived his trials at kaer morhen.    initially he had taken a shine to her prior to the trials and she to him    ;    always excited and trotting around the boy when he came to look over her.    geralt humored her always,  after surviving he and roach never really were apart when it came to going out of the stone walls of kaer morhen,    the little pokemon protective of its partner that she had come to trust.    once the wolf had left the school’s walls years later,  his little horse had become large and intimidating    ;    still gentle to him even though her temper had surged with her evolution.    as they went on in the world,    as the years went by,   they still stuck together through everything    ---    ever closer.    roach is hugely protective of her witcher and will    stomp you to death with her hooves    if you so much as threaten him.

tsareena,    nickname    petal    with the moveset:    stomp,    high jump kick,    power whip and solar beam.     all in all,    petal wouldn’t leave geralt alone.    one of the very last pokemon he gained on his team recently,    petal ran into geralt when she was her previous evolution,  steenee    -----    all due to the fact her little home had come under the attention of some humans.    a litwick had been causing a bit of a stir for them,    having sucked a few people’s life forms to dust which led humans to go searching for the pokemon to try and get rid of it.    geralt had been passing through and,    well,    ended up saving petal indirectly.    she was enamored and thankful for this friendly    (    yet kinda scary    !!    )    man who helped her and just   . .   followed him.    geralt’s heart couldn’t keep ignoring her for long and thus let her stick around,   the little pokemon doing her best to impress him and doing so    ;  leveling herself as she did and eventually,    when she gained stomp,  she evolved into tsarenna.    she’s a tomboyish little thing with an attitude now but never ungrateful for the help given to her.    she’ll also stomp you to death with her leetle feet.    during hunts she’s usually quick to assist.

absol,    nickname    sol    with the moveset:    dark pulse,    bite,    night slash and taunt.  geralt’s second pokemon was sol,    an absol he had found during one of the heavier winters in the kaedwin mountains.    she was wounded after a human had harmed it in one of its descents down the mountain to warn of impending disaster.    geralt had come across her in the snow,   bleeding out from the injury and managed to calm her down enough to get her out of the cold.    the disaster had been an avalanche,    no one getting hurt barring the man that had left the pokemon to die in the snow.    alas,    she survived.    in the small cave out of the heavy storm,  roach,    sol and geralt rode it out.    the wolf making sure the absol would survive her wounds with the resources he did have on hand and once it was over the dark pokemon stuck by his side.    with the myth that the pokemon brings disaster    ---    there’s a minor irony of it sticking around the witcher,    becoming his partner    ;    as both are detested and both are feared because of what and who they are.    sol detests fighting lest she can help it,    as it does hurt her to strain herself.  geralt doesn’t use her much on hunts but does bring her along    (    or she just trails behind anyway    ). 

sylveon,    nickname    bow    with the moveset:    disarming voice,    moonblast,    quick attack and psych up.    another one of the recent ones,    however a relatively long lasting one as well.    bow was given to geralt as a   thank you   from dandelion,  initially as an eevee.    the small thing took a shine to geralt and geralt took a shine to the little pokemon who enjoyed his space as well as sol’s.    he wasn’t a fan of staying in his pokeball whenever geralt was    uncomfortable    with a situation or when the wolf was highly upset over something.    effectively the eevee became a sort of    .  .    comfort pokemon for geralt.  when it came down to evolving,    geralt wanted to try for an  umbreon    but got bamboozled when bow evolved into a    sylveon    due to amount of friendship and love bow had for his trainer.    she likes to sit on geralt’s shoulder,    gently holding on with her ribbons that do well to settle him down if he’s ever overwhelmed or upset,    thus being the resident comfort pokemon if anything goes awry.    he’s equally protective of geralt and the friends he has,    rather bouncy and excitable as well.    his presence itself stumps humans and their assumption that witcher’s don’t feel    .  .    considering the required affection and loving on needed for sylveon to    .  .    be.

zebstrika,    nickname    z    (    yes how original     )    with the moveset:    wild charge,    discharge,    thrash and shockwave.    mad.    just    .  .    mad.    z doesn’t like humans very much,    only putting up with those that geralt is close to but irritable enough to stomp and make it known that it doesn’t want many near him.    z found geralt first,    or rather     roach    found the pokemon first,    leading geralt to the zebstrika when upon roaming had found him caught in a man    -    made trap.    after nearly an hour and a half of calming z down and with some assistance from roach just    snorting    and stomping in frustration   . .    geralt was able to get close enough to remove the trap.    z,    at first,    ran off,    only to follow them from a safe distance through the forest before coming to steal a few of the apples geralt had in saddlebags overnight.   begrudging thanks became true once geralt had gained the zebstrika’s trust.    not entirely    “    tame    “    z will still lash out sometimes if unsure of a situation but    will    come to geralt’s aid when its required    .  .   and for pets.

mightyena,    nickname    wulf    with the moveset:    suckerpunch,    crunch,    scary face and bite.    wulf was geralt’s third pokemon he gained,    having gained its trust over a period of a year after its habitat had been uprooted.     initially wary of geralt she came to trust him mostly by how geralt would bring it food when it couldn’t find any due to the uprooted home it came from.    she grew attached and after a time began to follow him out whenever he left.    with geralt’s experience wulf became loyal and ready to defend and fight when needed.  she’s cozy to be within and outside her pokeball but,    unsurprisingly,  has a grand ol time outside of it    ;    being chaotic and tomboyish. 

+   a cubone.    they’re new.    geralt found it while it was crying and it just pretty much  also  won’t leave him alone now.    it doesn’t fight.  just hangs out and is a cute nuisance.  its name is    buttercup.

#pokemon au tbt #{ if anyone wants to create a team PLEASE tag me bc i wanna. see. } #{ y'all don't have to go fucking bonkers like i did but LMAO yeah } #⚔️ // coin ? do you have coin sir ? task completed ( meme replies ) #⚔️ // i'm here i'm queer and lets get this meditation started ( mun )

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 1 of 26

Title: The Devil and the Deep: Horror Stories of the Sea (2018)

Author: Various (edited by Ellen Datlow)

Genre/Tags: Short Story Anthology, Horror (Various), Female Protagonist(s), LGBT Protagonist(s). 

Rating: 7/10 (note: this is an average of all the stories)

Date Began: 1/1/2020

Date Finished: 1/6/2020

I don’t usually read short story collections. But since I kicked off 2020 with a trip outside the US, I wanted something that could easily be picked up and read in short bursts. So I dove into a short story anthology @mistressofmuses gave me for Christmas. Since I was staying on the coast, this seemed like an appropriate choice. 

This anthology is a collection of 15 original horror stories by different authors, each somehow associated with the sea. Like any anthology, they were pretty hit or miss, but there were some I really enjoyed. Honorable mentions (scoring 8/10 or higher): 

Fodder’s Jig by Lee Thomas (9/10) 

The Whalers Song by Ray Cluley (9/10) 

A Ship of the South Wind by Bradley Denton (8/10) 

Broken Record by Stephen Graham Jones (8/10) 

A Moment Before Breaking by A. C. Wise (9/10) 

Sister, Dearest Sister, Let Me Show To You The Sea by Seanan McGuire (10/10) 

He Sings of Salt and Wormwood by Brian Hodge (10/10)

For a brief summary of all the stories and impression of each, see below the cut. These are in the order they appear and contain minor/implied spoilers.

1. Deadwater by Simon Bestwick - 4/10

Summary: A man living in a coastal tourist town is found dead by the shore. When her cop boyfriend rules it a suicide, the man's best friend Emily investigates the death on her own.

Thoughts: This one was very predictable. I'd figured out the "twist" and exactly how it would end by the half way point. It wasn’t super exciting and the writing just wasn't engaging for me. I did appreciate the occasional thematic callback and the whole thing about broken people needing to stick together, but there wasn’t enough of that in the actual story to sell me on it. 

2. Fodder’s Jig by Lee Thomas - 9/10 

Summary: Two men in their 60s fall in love with each other and try to form a life together. However, amid one’s rough divorce, a bizarre disease emerges that causes people to dance wildly and speak in tongues after exposure to the ocean. When one of the two men begins to exhibit symptoms of the disease, everything changes. Thoughts: Well done, creepy cosmic horror, and the ending was phenomenal. I loved that it was about two old gay dudes trying to find happiness late in life, struggling with manipulative family issues, and how all of it seamlessly blended with the horror. The prose was great too, and the zinger when you fully understand the title is... an experience. I thought it was interesting that the flashback scenes were in present tense and the current scenes were in past tense, but it sort of makes sense with the themes of the story.  

3. The Curious Allure of the Sea by Christopher Golden - 7/10 

Summary: A woman's father is lost at sea. To honor his memory, she tattoos herself with a strange symbol found in his abandoned boat. However, afterward, sea creatures and people alike find themselves drawn to her. Thoughts: It was moderately creepy. The part where Jenny burns off the tattoo (spoilers) was viscerally horrifying. Beyond that, it didn't stick out a whole lot. Sort of like a “wouldn’t that be fucked up?” Twilight Zone episode. 

4. The Tryal Attract by Terry Dowling - 5/10 

Summary:  After a conversation with his neighbor, a man agrees to spend several nights in the neighbor's house to commune with a talking human skull which he has recurring dreams about. 

Thoughts: The prose was good enough, but the actual horror element was sort of like one of those creepypastas that’s just unintentionally funny. It felt very Scooby Doo and I don’t think that was the intent. 

5. The Whalers Song by Ray Cluley - 9/10 

Summary: When a Norwegian whaling ship sinks after a catch, the small crew manages to escape. On shore, however, the eerie artifacts they find of old whaling ships are more than they bargained for.

Thoughts: Way way way eerie, and the prose was great; very stilted yet beautiful. There was an underlying theme of the past and present, which Cluley explores in multiple ways. It has a slow start but it pays off. One of the more haunting ones in the collection. 

6. A Ship of the South Wind by Bradley Denton - 8/10 

Summary: Three years after the Civil War, two Native Americans -- a boy named Charley and his uncle JoJim -- are accosted by a group of travelers in the plains of Kansas. They find that help comes from an unexpected source-- an eccentric, quasi-supernatural figure named Captain Thomas, whom JoJim met decades ago.

Thoughts: Honestly, setting a sea-themed horror story entirely in Kansas was a power move, but I think it worked. Did a great job building and maintaining tension. I loved the small details, like keeping the villains as "Red-beard" and "Black-beard" even after we learn their real names to keep things nautical. It's kind of like if No Country for Old Men crossed over with a pretty good episode of Goosebumps with some pseudo steampunk elements.

7. What My Mother Left Me by Alyssa Wong - 6/10 

Summary:  Following the death of her mother and breakup with her abusive boyfriend, Emma and her new girlfriend visit her mom's old beach house to collect her things. However, things get weird when they discover partially decomposed, yet still living fish along the shore.

Thoughts: I’m torn on this one. The writing was really good, but it felt like the story couldn’t decide between being a straight-up slasher flick or a deep, heartfelt exploration of family and surviving domestic abuse. I really felt like it needed to be longer, as both elements felt underdeveloped. 

8. Broken Record by Stephen Graham Jones - 8/10 

Summary: A man is trapped on a deserted island.

Thoughts:  I do not want to spoil the "twist" of this one but it's good and a fun scenario to imagine. Toed the line between humor and horror well.  

9. Saudade by Steve Rasnic Tem - 5/10 

Summary: A man agrees to go on a senior singles cruise at the behest of his daughters, but feels awkward and out of place. He is drawn to a bizarre woman who occasionally appears and causes something strange and unsettling to happen.

Thoughts: The writing is good, but Tem spends the bulk of the story focusing on protagonist Lee wandering a cruise ship and being sad about it. I loved the ending and its callback to an earlier, seemingly unrelated scene, but beyond that I feel there’s way more you can do with the inherent horror of a cruise ship. 

10. A Moment Before Breaking by A. C. Wise - 9/10 

Summary: While a little girl and her mother are immigrating to the United States, the ship they are on suddenly sinks. The girl is captured by cultists who perform a strange ritual, binding her to a creature called the prince of the sea.

Thoughts: I really dug this one-- it's just so weird. I loved how the narrative treated the shared body between Ana and the prince, and that we get to see Ana in various stages of her life. The prose was gorgeous. Definitely one of my favorites in the collection.

11. Sister, Dearest Sister, Let Me Show To You The Sea by Seanan McGuire - 10/10 

Summary: When her little sister drowns her in the tide pools by their Washington home, a teenage girl makes a deal with an eel-like entity of the sea to get her revenge. Thoughts: "Holy fucking shit" was pretty much all I could say when I finished this one. Visceral body horror at its finest, and I'm always a sucker for revenge. The prose was beautiful and horrid in the best way. I'm a big fan of the author already but this exceeded my expectations.

12. The Deep Sea Swell by John Langan - 3/10 

Summary: A couple is traveling by ship. One of the two, Susan, recalls a few supernatural stories their mutual friend Giorgio told them before she has her own supernatural encounter.

Thoughts: I found myself begging the author to press the enter key on his keyboard a few times. Beyond that, this was the first story that actually challenged my suspension of disbelief with what happens and how it relates to the main character. I didn't find the horror element very scary at all. There were some cool visuals but that's about all I got out of it. 

13. He Sings of Salt and Wormwood by Brian Hodge - 10/10 

Summary: During a deep sea diving exercise, a competitive surfer comes across an old, sunken yacht. He is horrified by the strange worm-like creatures devouring the wood. However, when he returns home to his wife, they begin to find strange, humanoid carvings every day on the Oregon coast. Thoughts: GOD was this good. Superb voice and writing, very creepy, and everything comes together so well in the ending. I felt an emotional connection to the love and longing between Danny and Gail, which is always hard to accomplish in a short story. Just a stellar read.

14. Shit Happens by Michael Marshall Smith - 3/10 

Summary: A higher-up from a tech conglomerate attends a company conference aboard a converted boat-hotel, but things go south when guests start to experience acute gastrointestinal distress. Thoughts: This gets like 3 points for making me genuinely laugh a few times and -7 points for everything else.

15. Haunt by Siobhan Carroll - 6/10 

Summary: In 1799, a cargo ship is troubled by a ghost ship on their trail. When the passengers and crew are stranded in the middle of the ocean, the dark pasts of the crew slowly come to light. Thoughts: The writing was good, the author clearly knows her shit, and I can admire what she is going for. However, the whole thing was just a bit too brutal and graphic for me, especially knowing that some of the things described were based on real events. I guess that was probably the point based on her author’s note, but I can’t recommend this as an entertaining read. 

#taylor reads #2020 reading challenge #7/10

[zachvillasource]

As a striver to be a “master of all,” Zach Villa is a skilled singer, actor, dancer, and instrumentalist who has been a part of various projects and has worked with world renowned talent. Zach has performed in the theater production of “Twelfth Night” alongside Anne Hathaway, has choreographed for Diane Paulus, performed on “The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon,” acted alongside Nicole Kidman, and played with the LA Philharmonic, among many more credits.

Currently, Zach can be found playing the infamous, terrifying, and gripping serial killer, Richard Ramirez aka the “Night Stalker,” in American Horror Story: 1984. Viewing the art of playing different roles as “puzzle pieces,” he strives to find empathy within every character he is given and with a commitment to give reality and a personal adaptation to his roles, Zach is hard-working and enjoys roles that do not resemble him in real life. As well, he is an everyday guy, enjoying fast cars and playing poker, but adores the arts and having a creative bone in his body.

With a great sense of humor answering questions and having patience while I figured out GarageBand, please enjoy the interview below with Zach:

Sorry! I forgot to press record. I have the questions here.

That’s ok. I will delay and deem technology hard cause it’s 2019. Let’s do it.

As this season of American Horror Story is coming to an end, what has your experience been like? Was it different or similar to what you expected?

That is a wide ranging question and hopefully it’s some kind of answer. I think when I booked the show, I mean, look, everybody has an idea of what being a serial killer on a show like AHS as I think you take for granted you’re gonna be busy, you take for granted that it’s gonna be a challenge at some point and you know I kinda took all of that with a grain of salt and just put my best foot forward. I don’t think I was thrown by the intensity of it, but I do know that by the end of the season I checked in with myself and realized I’m much more battle worn than I thought and that wasn’t necessarily like any particular aging quality of the show that tears down actors or anything, but I do think that it’s unique. We spent a lot of late nights out in the woods and doing a lot of very intense, dark, emotional work and even when the tone was light I think that that’s still a part of the world of AHS, so that definitely took a toll on me in a way that was subconscious and so these last few weeks here filming I’ve definitely become aware of that and was like, “Oh I’m looking forward to some rest.”

That’s actually perfect cause that kind of goes into my next question. I saw that your role in AHS is playing the serial killer, Richard Ramirez, what was that like and did you have to do anything to prepare for that specific role?

I get this question a lot and not to err on the side of mysterious mystery or anything. I definitely kept some of the prep that I’ve done to myself only because it’s just really difficult to understand when you’re handed a role like Richard Ramirez, even if there’s a campy nature or a light-hearted nature to some of the material that we get into later in the season. There’s no manual like no one says, “Ok you have to play someone who has brutally killed at least thirteen people and that’s a really terrible thing, but society wouldn’t accept.” The most simple answer is I used the tools I use for every role. I do all the research that I possibly can and if I’m playing a real person, which I am, I compared a lot of physical traits in particular, how he sounds, how he walked, how he presented himself physically in the world. I took a lot of that stuff from the plethora of material available and then injected it into the show and the material that was in the script because there’s always a marriage that happens between the material and what an actor’s performance is going to be. It’s not like they give you the script and “oh you’re just you” or “oh you’re just this perfect character that they’ve written.” There’s always some kind of negotiation when you’re playing a biographical role. That was the biggest thing for me. That I had to kind of edit and be like “oh this is how he sounds, this is how he walks and that still works in the world of AHS: 1984.” Is it funny or is it cool, is it scary, like I had to kind of look outside myself every time to make sure that the role was working from an audience point of view. The scary answer is that I walked around downtown very very late at night just thinking dark things while listening to scary music, but no one wants to hear about that. 

Wait is that actually true?? Was that one of your ways to prepare for the role or are you completely joking?

I don’t want to go into too much more detail, but ya I mean the thing is that like because he was a real person that was LA based a lot of the locations that are mentioned in the material you can go visit. You can go see a lot of the hotels that he crashed at and yeah I wanted to see what that felt like. I wanted to see how it affects the body and the mind being in his place at night, as you know everyone knows that he did. That was definitely an element and what I did on the streets I’m not gonna talk about cause who knows. I didn’t kill anybody if that’s what you’re asking. You dress a certain way it makes you feel a certain way. A lot of these things, you know you don’t have to go downtown and murder 13 people to be able to figure out how somene’s psychology works, but you can get close like if you start to mimic. I think it’s like trying on a different pair of pants or a different mask or costume. It affects you and I took that energy and I took how that made me feel and just kind of amped it up and developed it with my own psychology.

What has being a part of AHS taught you, if anything? Personal wise or career wise.

That’s a very good question. I think that we’re always learning, especially artists that’s kind of our job. Well we have multiple jobs, our first job is getting work, and then our career is doing the acting and being on camera and trying to be brilliant in a very small high pressure situation, but I think that as an artist really what makes you move forward is learning and so I think that I’m always learning. I think that everyone is learning just as much from a good experience as they would a bad experience and AHS was a career highlight, is a career highlight for sure and I want it to continue being a career highlight. I think that it kind of just taught me that you have to stick with it even when things are confusing or hectic or the work seems like it doesn’t make any sense because you’re trying to play a historical person, but then you realize that you’re working on campy comedy that also explores really dark, scary, gore and those are certain things you don’t see in the script at the very beginning and so I think maybe if I were to take something away professionally acting wise it’s that you have to be ok with surprise, you have to learn to adapt to whatever the process asks of you and I knew that, but I think AHS, this particular show, really demanded it of me in a different way and usually it demanded it of me when I only had four and a half hours of sleep after a night shoot, so I think that I learned something about myself. I learned that I have the stamina to really take roles like this and go the distance and just be adaptable and be ready for surprise.

What has been the most challenging character to play, so far in your career?

Man, you’re pulling no punches. I don’t know, I mean I kind of feel like I get more excited and more success in payoff when I’m playing characters that are challenging, that aren’t like me at all, so I would say like “oh ya like Richard Ramirez or Richard III oddly, you know, or something of that nature,” but I don’t really see it as a challenge, I think it’s just kind of a puzzle piece, so sorry that’s not really the answer to your question. I just try not to judge the roles that I do. I mean, sure there are some that I’ve felt better about or less successful about, but I think a lot of those happened in acting school for me, like a lot of it was stuff that I clearly wouldn’t have been casted for in the real world, but it still taught me something, so I guess challenging or most difficult character I’ve had to play was... I don’t know. I don’t really have a problem with getting behind really, pardon my French, but fucked up psychology like I think that’s something that I enjoy delving into because you learn about humanity and look, humans are complicated, confused animals and we’re all just trying to do our best and when we’re being cordial and we got our shit together I think that can be a really beautiful thing, but we’re also capable of some really terrible evil and I think that for me I’ve become more comfortable clearly with that side of my psychology and humanity and I think that you have to as an actor, so it’s hard for me to answer that because I try to find empathy in every character that I take on even if it’s quote on quote challenging for me on a personal level.

I know you act, sing, dance, and play instruments, but if you had to choose just one of those things, which one is your favorite?

I will not choose. There, I refuse to, in fact I got so much slack when I was in high school in particular, instructors who were very wise and 99% of the time this might be true for students that they were working with, they would always try to make me choose, they’re like “stop playing the guitar, why are you writing songs, you’re 17 and why are you just picking this up now like you have a dance career and you’re really good at singing and acting” and I’m like “well those are three things you already listed that are different from each other, so why are you telling me to choose one thing now?” I just kind of felt like that was only the lie and something I’ve been fighting for a very long time and a lot of great artists throughout history have been, dare I say well-rounded, and that’s not to say that I want to be a master of none, I think that I’d like to be a master of all and trying to use all these different gifts and mediums to inform one another. I mean that’s a huge part of my process. I wouldn’t be able to fight or move physically like Richard if I didn’t have an extensive dance background, if I didn’t have a dance background I wouldn’t know the first thing about programming drums and music in the studio, so it’s just like for me it’s just all part of the same suit and they’re all different highs. I mean, selfishly it’s pretty cool that I get to be on the set of AHS and then go play a rock show the next week you know like that’s really fun for me and in a very very different experience cause you can’t replicate on a set.

What inspired you to get into the arts?

I feel like maybe I had no choice. My mom was a dance teacher, she’s retired now, and I had a dance studio attached to my house growing up, so I kind of feel at a certain age it was like “well we can do daycare and never spend time with our son or we can put him in dance class and my mom could teach me something useful” and that’s what ended up happening. I was just injected with it at a very early age and as I grew older the truth changes all the time. Like I'm sure at one point I was like “oh yay, fame and glory” and then I learned more about storytelling and I learned how cathartic that was for me. I’ve definitely gone through periods where the arts were like therapy for me, but I think at the end of the day, it’s in my blood and I can’t imagine doing anything else and I don’t think I even have to know why. I think that I have some things to offer that society likes to call “expert communication” on some level and I think that it would be a waste if I wasn’t doing that because that’s what I’ve always done and I think that’s probably what I'll always do and I don’t really have a logical reason as to why that’s necessary.

What hobbies do you have when you’re not working?

I love playing poker. I love motorcycles and I love fast cars. It’s so stereotypical it hurts, but it’s true. Because when I'm riding a motorcycle it honestly feels like one of my best acting moments, I feel like it’s the perfect balance of risk, danger and control and that’s what being alive is. I took up film photography about three years ago. I needed something that didn’t have the pressure of success, so I get a lot of satisfaction from being the guy at a party or at an event that has a camera and is looking for a candid moment. So that brings me some joy and I haven’t tried to make money from it yet, so everything is going well with that.

You’ve worked with a lot of other big names like Anne Hathaway and Nicole Kidman. Have you learned anything from working with them?

Absolutely! When I worked with Anne, I was fresh out of school and it was one of my first gigs and I think every actor, big or small, has a different process and I can’t tell you how many different ways there are to do this job. There’s no right way, there’s no manual. You can go to school for 8 years and be the worst actor or you can just come out of the womb and just have it. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing big names and small names be incredible on stage, or horrible. I think it’s paramount to understand that everybody has a different way of working and as soon as you start to judge that it’s really dangerous territory because you have to have freedom and you have to feel safe in order to do good work. I’ve seen it done every single way and what I’ve learned about the ones that are good actors, but also good at their jobs, is that they’re just so graceful, open, and vulnerable on set. I think that good manners and being gracious towards your fellow actors, crew mates and everybody who works on the project to make it happen is one of the most admirable qualities. Nicole, when I worked with her, I was blown away. It was a childhood dream to act with her because I watched her in Moulin Rouge and was obsessed with that as a kid. I mean growing up as a triple threat - dancer, actor, singer - and then Moulin Rouge comes out, I was just enamored. When I got to work with her, it was such a weird out of body experience because I had been on the grind for a long time and then I looked around one day and was like, “Oh my god, I’m on Nicole Kidman’s lap sitting on a couch, doing a scene with her. What is this life?” What was so cool is that she was gracious and caring to me and everyone that she worked with and as far as I was concerned, it felt like we were just two peers working on a scene. There was no ego involved and when I got to see that from someone that high up in their career it was extremely admirable. Taking away from that experience, I think it’s important to remember that we’re all in this together, it’s a hard gig and we’ve got to support each other.

#zach villa #ahs cast #Richard Ramirez #american horror story #ahs 1984 #interview #article #zvs:interview #zvs:article #* #long post