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emberfrostlovesloki · 8 months

Text

This Space of Ours [Hotch x Reader]

Image from @hotch-girl (beautiful work as always)

Prompt: Aaron is subjected to the whims of a sadist in search of revenge because his younger brother was put away by Agent Hotchner and the BAU team.

Category: Angst/whump/minor comfort at the end.

Word Count: 6.4K

Content Warnings: Graphic depiction of sexual assault (Hotch and a male unsub), Torture - choking, drowning, physical restraints, mention of an incel and assault (in a past case), active shooter situation (the team's current case), threat of death (via gun). suicidal ideation, hospitals, vomiting, trauma, some reckless driving, U.S. police, bodily fluids/substances, language. (If I missed any, please let me know).

A/N: Okay, so it’s October, which means whump-tober for me. First of all, this story is 18+ minors DNI. I’m being serious here. If you a minor please don’t engage. This one has a lot of content warnings. This story deals with some dark themes and scenarios and I implore you to read the content warnings before you interact with this fic. If at any time you feel uncomfortable reading, please click off. Nothing is worth your mental health and well-being! I rarely write anything this graphic, but the idea has been stuck in my head for a while. The home invasion aspect came from @luveline and her amazing story “If Things Go Bad.” (linked). I highly recommend her work. Please go and check out her blog. I honestly eat up everything she writes and she deserves all the love. Due to the dark and graphic content of this story, I ask that all comments stay respectful. If I see anything lewd or inappropriate I will delete it. Don’t go there. You can read this as a standalone, in which case this would be an established relationship between the reader and Hotch, or you could take this as a continuation of my last fic (found here), or you could read this as platonic if you squint.

As I did with my last fic, if you find yourself affected by this plot, please reach out to a loved one or someone you trust. You deserve love and support. If all else fails, I’ve attached some crisis hotlines below. There is no shame in getting help and support.

National Sexual Assualt Hotline

Self-Harm Crisis Text Line

The next story I’m writing is much lighter than this one, and there is a lot of protective Hotch involved! If you like this story, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. I might try to write a part two to this covering Hotch’s and the team's healing process. If that’s something you are interested in, let me know. Stay well out there everyone. If you need someone to talk to, my messages are always open. - Levi.

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_l/n_ = your last name

Hotch was headed home. He was finally headed home. The last case could have gone far worse than it had. It had been a male shooter, killing in the Houston metro area. The sprawling city and multiple police precincts hadn’t connected the killings as being perpetrated by the same person. It was clear to the team, and Spencer first, that the unsub was building up to something bigger than just shooting three, five, or ten people. It had all come to a head when Emily and y/n had found the manifesto online stating that the unsub, Jason Creeke, was going to try and kill as many people as he could at a Houston Astros game. The teams and police had rushed to the game. The stadium was packed and finding Jason in such a dense sea of bodies was difficult, even with all the police and SWAT teams present. When a gunshot rang out among the stands, chaos erupted. Aaron was the closest to the unsub, and he clearly saw the middle-aged man with a shotgun drawn and ready to fire again. Hotch’s sidearm was out in a second. He clicked the safety off and lined up the shot. Aaron made the kill shot; he could sense everyone on his team as well as the other officers relax as the active threat was taken down.

It had been pandemonium for a few minutes, but as the local law enforcement stepped in, the scene relaxed a little. Back at the local precinct, y/n had approached him as always; checking in. y/n stated, “That was a really clean shot Hotch, as always.” Aaron appreciated the comment, he just wished he didn’t have to make the shot at all. y/n could see his warring thoughts and said, “We can talk about it later if you want?” Hotch looked down at her, feeling that familiar comforting tug in his chest that only _y/n_ could pull from him. He nodded and said, “Later.” There was always a 'later' with them. Returning from a case was an exhausting ordeal. It was nice to have it over, but when the wheels touched back down in Virginia it didn’t mean that the world just stopped turning on its axis. There was paperwork and reports to be filed, the fact that another stack of possible cases would be waiting on JJ’s desk to be vetted for the team. The cycle seemed to be endless. Even if the case hadn’t been a bad one, it still wasn’t fun. Aaron and y/n rarely spent time together after returning from a case because they were tired and needed to sleep and let out any lingering emotions tied to what they had just seen. Experiencing so much trauma didn’t always make someone the most supportive person and Hotch and y/n knew that. Staying apart kept them safe from any unintended hurtful words or phrases the other might say. If things were really bad, then of course there were exceptions. Hotch would text y/n and ask her to come over or vice versa and within half an hour they would be at the other's apartment providing a comforting embrace or words, depending on what was needed. Just because they didn’t see each other in person didn’t mean they didn’t talk. y/n would always call Aaron at 8:00 PM sharp. She knew that would give him an hour or so before he would take a shower and go to bed. They would talk for however long was comfortable. Sometimes that was just saying “Goodnight,” or having more of a discussion about their work or personal lives. Often Aaron found himself talking about Jack. His son was his light and he was drawn to it in all things. y/n was happy to listen to him ramble. She loved Jack too, and she was fully aware that Jack was always going to be the number one person in Aaron’s life.

Aaron parked his car and got his briefcase and duffle bag that had all his clothes from his go-bag that needed to be laundered. He closed his car doors, locking them with his key fob. The car gave a familiar little beep as he clicked the lock button twice. He moved a few feet to his front door, ready to be out of the six o’clock sun. He was ready for a shower. He rolled his stiff neck as he unlocked his door. His apartment was dark, even though it was still bright outside. He turned to the locks on the front door. He had no idea that something, someone malignant had made its way inside before him. The unseen man stalked behind Aaron and pistol-whipped the FBI Unit Chief on the side of the head. By the time Aaron was aware that something was wrong in his periphery, it was too late. He felt a blinding pain at the back of his head and he slumped forward, uncoordinatedly against the door. He used his hands to soften the blow, but he still hit the wood with a thump. He tried to keep his feet under him, but his vision was blurring and the pain was only growing worse. For some reason, he could hear his own breathing loudly in his ears. He fell to the floor and tried to command his body to move, but it wouldn’t, couldn’t respond. He managed to turn around on the floor and just as he lost consciousness he saw a large man crouch down next to him.

Hotch woke an undetermined time later. The light was blinding against his headache, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. He was restrained, hogtied so tightly that his back ached with the strain of having his hands and feet forced that close behind his back. His face was pressed against something cool and smooth. He could feel that blood was seeping down the side of his face, onto his cheek, and down over his chin. He was about to do an inventory of the rest of his body, but a sound from behind him snapped him to his full senses. He opened his eyes and realized that he was in his bathtub. Aaron turned his head to the best of his ability and saw a mountain of a man standing just outside the tub.” Aaron cleared his throat quietly, trying not to sound as scared as he felt. He took a breath and clearly asked, “Who are you? What do you want?” The man gave a gruff laugh and stepped even closer to the tub. Aaron flinched back but instantly tried to relax and not appear weak in front of the man who had him at his mercy. The man stepped into the tub and stood with both of his legs near Hotch’s prone body. The man crouched down, getting in Aaron’s face. Hotch could distinctly smell the scent of tobacco on his breath, and the man said, “You don’t need to know that yet Agent Hotchner. Just know that you’ve wronged me, and I’m here to get what I’m owed.” Aaron tried to think back to all the cases he’d worked on. He would have remembered this man. There was no way he couldn’t remember a man of this size. Aaron knew he needed to do something. He couldn’t fight his way out, given that he was restrained. Even if he wasn’t, Aaron wasn’t sure he could take this man in a fight. But if he wasn’t bound, he would sure as hell try. As the tap started running near his head, Aaron felt some water droplets splash on his face and the left side of his shirt got soaked. Hotch had to talk over the water, saying, “You don’t have to do this. We can talk.” The man placed his large hand around Aaon’s neck, restricting the airflow, so he struggled to breathe. Again the man deferred giving any information saying, “We can talk later if you’re up to it.”

Aaron didn’t like the sound of where this evening was going. After the man released his neck, Hotch sucked in a much-needed breath. As he did this, the man pulled Aaron’s hips up so he was resting on his knees and arms. His body screamed in protest against having most of his weight on his arms, knees, and shins. He was also unstable in his position. He had to engage his core to stay at least relatively steady. Before Aaron could get his bearing the man roughly pushed Hotch’s hip forward, and his upturned face was pushed under the steady stream of cold water coming from the tap. Aaron coughed and struggled under the flow as his air supply was cut off again. Hotch trashed to try and turn his face away. The man watched with some amusement, as the FBI agent floundered. As Aaron tried to turn his head away, the man took a fistful his his hair and held his face steady under the water. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop the water from getting into his airways. Hotch had his mouth tightly closed, but his nostrils were letting the water in. To call the sensation uncomfortable was an understatement His eyes and lungs burned at the water and lack of air. He was sure he would pass out in a second if something didn’t change. He wondered for a moment if this man was going to keep holding his head there until he expired. As his vision started to blur, he thought of Jack and then y/n. Their happy smiling faces popped into his mind and if he was going to die, he was grateful that both of them would be the last thing he thought of; at least consciously.

When he was sure he couldn’t take anymore, the man pushed Aaron onto his side and out of the stream of the spigot. Aaron coughed so hard he felt his lungs strain with the effort. The water that had gotten into his body was expelled from his mouth and nose in waves. When the water was excised, he took needy breaths clenching his eyes closed against the pain. For a moment the physical pain of his body was replaced with the fact that he had almost lost consciousness. Just as he was able to breathe normally again, the man pushed Hotch back onto his back and under the water. This ritual happened three more times and by the time the tap was turned off, Hotch was so exhausted that all that he could do was take shaky breaths as he lay on his side on the wet tub’s bottom. Aaron left a brief moment of relief as the rope holding his arms and legs was severed and his back got a break from its arched position. He actually breathed a sigh of relief as his body straightened out. His arms were still strained but at least he could breathe properly now. Hotch hardly noticed as the man cut the zip ties holding his feet together. He was shocked back to his body as the man pulled him up with large hands under his armpits. Hotch was half dragged, half stumbled into his bedroom. The lamps were on and he didn't know how he hadn’t noticed the light that would have emanated from the crack in the door of his living room. Hotch stilled those thoughts as he was pushed onto his bed, his head still swimming from what he had been through and how he had been moved like a doll. As his face was pressed into the mattress he could distinctly smell the acrid scent of urine on the soft surface. He cringed against his comforter. He was not only scared, but now he felt humiliation and shame course through him. There were these emotions but also anger. A hot rage just under the surface that this would be happening to him. ‘Focus,’ Aaron thought, maybe he could stop whatever this madman was planning next. In this position, he felt exposed and vulnerable, and he felt that it didn’t bode well for what was coming next.

Hotch found his voice and said, “Clearly you think I’ve wronged you somehow. Would you tell me what I’ve done to upset you? Why do I need to be punished?” The man behind him whom he couldn’t quite see gave a gruff laugh, and the sound of a buckle being undone had Hotch freeze instantly. Certainly, this wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen. The man lay down on top of Hotch. Aaron could feel the man was semi-hard and he had to still to stop from squirming. The weight of the man above him was enough to cause him to struggle to breathe. He wondered if strangulation was a signature of his. Aaron's arms also screamed in protest. Aaron thought his shoulders might pop out of their sockets. The man’s hot breath on the nape of his neck sent a shiver of revulsion down Aaron’s spine. The man finally spoke and said, “You want to know who I am? I’m Brent Parolt’s older brother, Steve. You sent my little brother away for life for something he couldn’t help. Something he was owed.” Aaron took a moment to connect the dots as his brain was functioning in overdrive.

Parolt was a bad case, one of the worst. The twenty-nine-year-old was an incel and was assaulting and torturing women in the Washington State area. There was a general panic in the surrounding community which had made finding the man responsible even more difficult. When the man had received five concurrent life sentences in a high-security prison, Hotch knew that this would never be enough to make up for what those women had been through.

Steve was now kissing Aaron’s neck, and Hotch could help his body from thrashing. Again, Aaron commanded his body to be still. To not show how much this was affecting him. Hotch found his voice again and said, “You believe your brother had the right to brutally assault women?” Hotch was hoping to distract Steve. The man ran a hand down Aaron’s chest and lower to his navel, and Hotch flexed his muscles, tense under the unwanted touch. Steve felt it as well and replied, “Sure my brother might have been fucked in the head, but it wasn’t his fault he was bad with girls, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be able to fuck ‘em. I remember watching the news and you said that those women, the victims, didn’t want his advances. Well, I intend to show you what it really means to not want something. I’m going to make my brother look like a saint to you.”

Hotch felt Steve working at the buckle of his own pants and he wondered if he could turn over somehow and hit this man in the groin full force. It might be enough to incapacitate him. Aaron found his pants and briefs pulled off and the cool air on his exposed body sent another shiver through him. Aaron was going to speak again to try and get out of this. Maybe he could make the man enraged, enraged enough to make him torture him another way. Any other way. However, the start of his sentence was cut off, as he felt a finger trace up his thigh and ass. There wasn’t time to do anything before that finger was inside of him. In an area that got little attention outside the shower and bathroom. Aaron grunted at the discomfort he felt at being opened up in this way. He closed his eyes both against the pain and humiliation rising in him. After a moment, another finger was added next to the first. Steve started moving them inside the man under him; he got more excited as he worked at the opening. The deranged man was feeling himself with his other hand, getting ready for the big finale. After a few moments, Steve removed his fingers from Hotch and wiped them on the sheet near Aaron’s face. Hotch turned his face the other way, refusing to look at what was staining his bedding apart from the urine. The sound of Steve removing his clothes had Aaron still again. As he was violated, he let himself let go. His mind found something, anything to think about other than what was happening to him in the current moment.

Once Steve had fully seated himself in the trembling man beneath him, he started moving inside Hotch. He was doing this as revenge: as justice for his brother, his best friend, and his support system. As Steve started picking up the pace, the pleasure centers in his brain fired full force and he stopped himself from moving faster, this was a lesson to Aaron, and he wanted it to last. The horrifying scene was cut with a knife as the sound of a phone ringing resounded throughout the room. Steve moved back from Aaron, and Hotch let out a shaky breath. He didn't know if he had been breathing for the last few minutes. There was the relief that Steve was out of him, but then the horrifying realization that _y/n_ was calling him, and this man was here, that she might hear what was happening. Hotch sent a silent prayer to any god that the man would just hang up the phone. If he did that then y/n would still know something was wrong. He didn’t miss her calls unless something was really wrong. She would call Emily or Derek first to see if they could reach him. If they hadn’t, she would call him again and then if there wasn’t an answer, she would ride over to wherever his location was. Hotch had thought this was a bit extreme at first, but he realized that in their line of work, not picking up could mean things were seriously wrong -- as they were now.

Hotch’s prayer wasn’t answered, as Steve fished the phone from his discarded pants pocket along with Aaron’s gun. Steve undid the safety of the handgun and moved back to the bed, pressing the cold metal of the weapon to Aaron’s temple; he also looked at the caller ID. He recognized the smiling female agent on the screen as having also worked the case that had gotten his brother sent away. With this, the man answered the call, setting the phone near Aaron’s face. Hotch listened as y/n said warmly, “Hey, Aaron. Just calling to talk about ‘later.’ How are you feeling?” Aaron kept his mouth shut, but the feeling of Steve thrusting into him hard, made him groan loudly in pain. He bit the inside of his mouth so hard that he could taste blood on his tongue. There was a pause on the line and Hotch could picture y/n standing in her kitchen, confused by what the hell that noise was. There was a long pause and Aaron did his best to not make any other sounds. Finally, there was a response as y/n said, “Aaron, Aaron, what’s going on?” There was a hint of panic in her voice, the pitch of it was high and stressed. Steve answered for Aaron saying, “Agent Hotchner isn’t available right now.” This time the pause was shorter, and y/n said, “Who are you, what are you doing to him?” Steve moved roughly again and Aaron made the same noise as before. Steve replied, “I think you can guess Agent _l/n_. Now be good for me and don’t say another word, because if you do, I’ll shoot Agent Hotchner in the head with his gun that I have pointed at his temple.” There was silence, as y/n wasn’t going to take a threat like that lightly. She never would. It was just the sound of heavy breathing on the other end of the line and Steve’s frantic carnal movements making noise now. Aaron was back in that place in his mind from before, where he could hide from all that was happening. Steve pulled him back from that place by asking, “Your agent is using your first name. It’s very informal of her. Are you fucking her, Aaron? That’s not very professional of you.” Aaron stayed silent, refusing to answer the question. However, when the man pushed the gun a little harder to the side of his face, Aaron managed to bark out, “Yes.” The man let out a laugh and replied, “Let’s see you try and be intimate with her after this.” At that moment Aaron wished the man would just shoot him to have this pain and humiliation be over with.

y/n was standing in her living room in a state of shock. She had dropped the glass or water she had been holding and the glass shards were spread far across her cement floor. When the unknown man who was holding Aaron hostage spoke again, she finally snapped out of her frozen state. She couldn’t speak or Aaron would die, so she put her side of the line on mute, just to make sure no noise she made could be heard. y/n began by recording the call, and then she rushed to her gun safe and closet to get her holster. While doing this, she put Aaron’s call on hold and called Morgan. He lived closest to Aaron. She waited and prayed that her teammate was at home and would pick up. After the second ring, there was an answer and Derek said, “Hey baby girl, what’s up?” Hearing Derek’s chipper voice made her cringe, but she swallowed the feeling and said, “It’s Aaron. He’s being assaulted at his apartment.” There was a short silence before Derek responded, almost not believing what he had heard with, “What?” y/n cleared her throat and said, “There’s someone in Aaron’s apartment. He’s getting assaulted right now. I have him on another line. I can hear what’s happening.” At the last sentence, y/n’s voice broke and she tried to hold in the sob that escaped her throat. Derek was moving now in his townhouse getting his keys and gun. He spoke clearly saying, “I’m on my way y/n. I’ll call Emily and Rossi, you call local LEOs. Keep Aaron on the line and mute me. We’ll go get him get him out of there.” _y/n_ nodded and said shakely, “Okay.” She could hear Morgan’s car door close and the engine start before she muted him. She dialed the police and informed them of the situation happening at Aaron’s address. When this was finished she pulled her helmet from the wall and grabbed her keys racing down the stairs. y/n connected the Bluetooth to her helmet, as she flew down the flight of stairs. The sound of her motorcycle engine running under her muffled the sounds that Hotch and the unsub were making. She could hear the pained noise that Aaron was trying to hold in. She knew those sounds would haunt her dreams. She cursed that she lived so far away from Hotch, but was glad that Morgan and Emily were close by. She knew Derek would get there before her and in some tiny, tiny way she was grateful. y/n wasn’t sure what she would do if she was the one to make it to Aaron’s place before anyone else. _y/n_ drove fast, faster than she probably should, but her friend was suffering and the sooner she got there, the more she could try and help him; whatever helping Aaron looked like in a situation like this.

After a few more minutes she heard Derek break into Aaron’s room and his barking command to the unsub to get off of Hotch, immediately. There were sounds of a scuffle and a shot rang out. It was so loud that it momentarily deafened y/n, and she wondered if her love or her friend had just been wounded or killed. It took a minute before she could hear again and when she did, she realized that whoever had been attacking Aaron was the person shot. The man was making painful sobbing noises and she heard Derek pull out his metal cuffs, demanding the man move to the other side of the room. Hearing the man in pain brought a sick kind of pleasure to y/n and for a moment she thought she might be sick, but there wasn’t time for that. There wasn’t time. In the daze of her getting closer and closer to Aaron’s apartment, she could hear the sirens on the other end of the line and then there was Emily’s voice speaking to Derek, finding out what was going on. She could still hear Aaron breathing, in raspy inhalations and exhalations. She could hear Derek close by saying, “Hotch, paramedics are on the way. Try and stay still. Help’s on the way.” There was an incoherent response from Aaron.

Finally, y/n screeched to a stop in front of Aaron’s unit. There were three police cruisers and as y/n dismounted, Rossi’s car arrived at nearly the same time. y/n took off her helmet and Rossi ran over to her to check in. They both flashed their badges to the officer near the door and y/n and Rossi moved aside as the unsub was moved outside to get medical assistance and be moved to the hospital under police custody. If she hadn’t been so anxious to get to Aaron’s side she would have stopped and looked at the monster that had hurt Aaron, but she didn’t. Even seeing the massive man filling the dim entryway would be another thing from tonight that would be seared into her brain forever. Rossi stayed downstairs to speak with the officers. y/n took the stairs two at a time and moved down the hall past Hotch’s guest room and bathroom. y/n landed in Aaron’s room and Derek and Emily were near Aaron’s bed, but giving him space. Derek moved aside to let y/n pass him. As y/n moved closer to Aaron, Morgan put a comforting hand on her shoulder to let her know she wasn’t alone in this. That none of them were alone in this, especially Aaron. Before y/n got too close to him she said his name. She had her palms up to demonstrate that she wasn’t a threat to him. “Aaron, I’m here.” Aaron made a small noise and y/n slowly moved forward. She knelt by the bed but didn’t get any closer. The very sight of him right now could make her cry and sob and curse every god she could think of, but Hotch didn’t need that right now. Aaron was blinking slowly, and he looked dazed, and not fully present. y/n knew she had to hold it together for him. She could let it go later. She looked over his form. He was on his stomach with a blanket covering his lower half. His hair was wet, and she could see bruising on his neck. There were also abrasions on his wrists. y/n turned to Emily and asked, “What’s the ETA on the paramedics?” The question didn’t need to be answered as more sirens cut through the night.

The next three hours were a blur for everyone. Rossi ended up riding with Aaron to the hospital and everyone gave their statements to the police. By this point, the whole team was at Aaron’s apartment. After the statements were taken, the team headed to the hospital. y/n rode with Emily, and once she was in the car she broke down for the first time that night. The sobs came unbidden and they moved through her body so strongly that she couldn’t breathe properly. Emily very briefly took her eyes off the road and looked at y/n. Emily tried to say some words of comfort to an impossible wound. All she could think of saying was, “We’re going to be there for him, y/n. I promise you.” When y/n was able to breathe again, she weakly replied, “Just hearing, hearing him…” y/n was cut off by another sob and Emily realized that y/n was traumatized too. Prentiss knew that this event was going to shake the team, shake the very foundation of their bond and she wondered if they could ever be as they once had.

At the hospital Garcia held onto y/n for dear life, repeating softly that it would be alright, over and over and over like a lullaby. When y/n took a moment to get a drink of water, Rossi followed her and said, “Derek told me that you were on the phone with him when this happened? You call him every night, don’t you?” y/n nodded, not trying to hide her closeness with Hotch right now. She was too tired and braindead to lie. Her phone calls with Hotch felt so trivial right now. Dave nodded and said, “You realize you probably saved his life by calling him, right?” y/n eyes found Rossi’s and she softy said, “Dave I.” Rossi cut her off saying, “Tonight has been awful. What happened to Aaron was the worst possible thing I can think of happening to anyone on the team, but I need you to know _y/n_ that you probably saved his life. If you hadn’t called him we might not be standing here right now.” Rossi left it at that and allowed y/n to move back to the rest of the team.

A few hours later the primary trauma specialist, Dr. Ramirez came to inform the team about Hotch's condition. y/n tried to pay attention, but it was all so overwhelming. She listened about the internal damage and the need for rest and therapy, both physical and mental. The conversation continued and she did her best, but her best didn’t feel good enough right now. Derek could see her fatigue and he wrapped an arm around y/n’s shoulder, letting her lean on him.

After a day and much protestation from Aaron, he was released. Rossi, Morgan, and y/n were there for his discharge, and the doctor asked where Aaron would be staying for the next few days because they would need a primary contact in case something went wrong. Aaron knew that he could stay with anyone on the team. They would all have him and try to treat him with care. To not make this awkward for him. He really considered Rossi’s, but deep down he knew who he was going to choose. He looked over at y/n and she gave him a small affirmative nod. He noticed how tired y/n looked. How the bags under her eyes stood out. He turned his attention back to the nurse and said, “I’ll stay with y/n, _l/n_. The nurse took down her information and after another two hours, Aaron and _y/n_ were being driven back to her apartment by Rossi. The drive was silent and there was a lingering discomfort at the silence in the car's cabin. The older man helped Aaron into y/n’s unit and guided him to sit on the couch. Aaron flinched at the contact and Rossi quietly said, “Sorry.” Hotch waved away the comment. His pain medication regimen was helping, but the soreness in his body lingered. Rossi made it clear that either y/n or Aaron could call him at any time. No holds barred and he’d be there as fast as he could. Derek had moved y/n’s bike back to its spot and was going to bring Hotch some new clothes that afternoon. As Rossi exited the main room, he spoke to y/n in the hallway saying, “Please be kind to yourself _y/n_, and really, if you need anything, please tell me.” y/n nodded and agreed to take his help if she or Aaron needed it.

Once Rossi was gone, y/n got Aaron a glass of water and the first dose of his pain and antibiotic medication. She portioned out the dosages and walked over to him. She gently said, “Here you go.” Aaron grabbed the glass and pills and took them with a swallow of water. y/n turned to her kitchen counter where she had a chart to track the dosage and medication she should be giving him. She crossed off the first two spots. When this was done, she walked back to Aaron and sat across from him in a chair from her kitchen table. The silence in the room was suffocating and y/n softly said, “Aaron.” Hotch looked over to _y/n_ saying, “I can’t y/n. I just can’t right now.” y/n swallowed and nodded. She knew Aaron was a private man. A man who liked to be in control of his emotions and surroundings and that had all been stripped of him two days ago. She could only imagine what he was thinking and feeling at the moment. y/n asked another question, giving him choices saying, “Would you like to rest here or in the bedroom? Would you like something to eat?” Aaron thought about these options. His pain medication made him drowsy and it helped his sore body to be stretched out. It distributed the pain more evenly. Aaron replied, “I’d like to take a nap in your room.” y/n nodded again and she helped him up. Hotch tried to walk normally. He wanted to act normal, but his body betrayed him. He shuffled to y/n’s bedroom and he gently lowered himself onto the mattress. y/n pulled the covers back for him and then moved around the space, lowering the blinds to darken the space. When she was sure Hotch was as comfortable as possible using extra pillows to support his body, she asked, “Would you like me to stay in here with you, or would you like to be alone for a while.” Aaron sounded desperate for the first time as he said, “Stay with me, please.” y/n moved to the chair in her room and settled down to be with Aaron as he rested.

As Aaron closed his eyes and tried to find sleep, but all he could think about was how he wished none of this had happened. How he was going to have to take time off. How he would have to take a psychological evaluation to return to the field. How he’d have to talk to Strauss and Strauss’s boss about this. How he’d have to go back the the hospital for checkups and therapy. He was thinking of everything but what had happened. He looked over to y/n and she looked too sad and concerned. He thought that she might start crying. She looked like she was trying so hard not to think of him differently, like a victim. He felt a hot shame course through him as he remembered that she had to hear his ordeal. Aaron thought that he might start crying if he wasn’t very careful. But he was tired and as much as he tried to fight it, sleep finally took him. It took _y/n_ as well after a half hour. She slumped against the wall and had unsettled dreams.

Aaron woke with a start. It was still light out and he felt nauseous. He tried to make it to the bathroom, but he didn’t even make it out of the bed before he vomited on the covers. His noises made y/n jerk awake and she moved over to him. He was on a liquid diet, so the act of throwing up was not the worst, but it still wasn’t pleasant. y/n knelt near the bed. She rubbed a hand on his lower back to comfort him. It was the first real intentional touch she had given him since the attack. When the content of his stomach was emptied he muttered, “I’m sorry, y/n.” y/n shook her head no and said, “You don’t have to be sorry, Aaron. It’s alright. If you can go to the bathroom to wash out your mouth, I’ll change the sheets.” Hotched avoided the puddle of vomit and moved into the adjoined bathroom. He didn’t look in the mirror as he swilled water in his mouth and down the drain. He moved to the chair y/n had just been in. It was still warm from her body heat. He watched as y/n removed the soiled bedding and replaced it with fresh sheets from the hallway closet. When the sheets were changed and she had grabbed a fresh blanket, Hotch moved back to the bed. As he sat down, the flood of emotions he had been holding back couldn’t be stopped anymore. It started with heightened breathing, but the tears came next in wave after wave and he was powerless to stop them. y/n stood close by, wringing her hands, not knowing what to do. y/n said his name, and Aaron looked up at her and he pleaded, “Can you hold me, y/n. Please.” y/n wanted to rush to him, to hold him tightly to her, to give him all the support she could, but she didn’t know if it would trigger him. Throw him back to that dark place. Aaron repeated his plea and y/n couldn’t hold back any longer. y/n slowly moved toward him. She softly, carefully wrapped her arms around his chest.” Aaron leaned forward into her and wept. When y/n was sure he was alright with this, she tightened her grip on him slightly.

Neither of them tried to speak, because what could be said? What could be said to make up for the pain, hurt, and loss? And so they stayed there like that. y/n had never seen Aaron cry. At least not like this and it spoke to the deep, deep hurt he was experiencing. y/n wondered if healing from such pain as Aaron’s existed. She knew that they had to just keep moving one foot in front of the other, but how could they do that if the ground had suddenly fallen out from under them? Not just them, but the whole team? It was painful and hard and y/n never thought that they would be here like this. But in the midst of all of this pain and hurt, she was just glad that Aaron was alive. That he was here in this space. That he had trusted her to come and rest and be. So they stayed there, and it wasn’t perfect, it might never be again, but at least they were there, together.

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Tag list: (🩷) @tgskitten @geminitapestry

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moonhoures · 11 months

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📰 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄: 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒!

literally me rn 👆🏻

anyways, hello my loves! i’m here to give you some updates on where this blog stands and is (hopefully!) going 🤭

first, what the fuck happened? 🫣

it’s been pretty much exactly a year since i dipped from this account (again). i’m sorry about that. i got a little overwhelmed and frankly just didn’t feel motivated or excited to write for a long time. i tried writing a few things (and got a little far tbh) but i just wasn’t satisfied with any of it. i even had a terrible moment or two where i got very close to deleting this account entirely but i decided against it as i’m really proud of some of the things i put out, and i would’ve been really sad to see it go. i also love all of you very much and appreciate everything you guys have done for or said to me, and i would’ve felt really guilty taking this blog away from you guys. so i promise i won’t be doing that any time soon!

second, first love 🥰

i’m sure most of you have seen my teaser for first love part 5 by now (which, yes, will unfortunately be the last part for the series 😓) but!! i have like 1 or 2 small things i plan on posting before hand to keep you guys fed since it won’t be posted for another month or so. i’ve been working on it as much as i can for the past couple months, but i do work basically every day so i can only write so much 🫤 but yeah, that’s how first love is! i’ll explain some more on it when i can!!

third, asks/messages 💬

i’ve gotten so many sweet messages since i went MIA (a little under 40 😭). i’m sorry to keep all of you waiting, but i promise i’ll try to answer them soon! i did get some negative comments about my absence and such, but i won’t be answering any of those publicly. i don’t want to feed into them. i understand i’ve done this multiple times & it’s annoying, and i apologize for that. writing is a big passion of mine (as is interacting with all of you!) but it can get draining running this account sometimes. i’m trying my best, and i appreciate your patience with me. i’m definitely undeserving of it.

fourth, also! ☝🏻

i have decided that from now on i will not be taking requests. as much as i love writing specific stuff that you guys want, it does give me a little anxiety. so i will only be taking very limited requests for drabble games and stuff like that in the future. i hope you guys understand 🫶🏻

i also decided to delete my twitter account (well, it kind of got hacked? i think? idk i had trouble with it and basically can’t get back in and don’t want to create a whole new one) so i wont be answering asks with twitter links anymore for this reason.

fifth, comebacks?! 🤩

i’ve recently tried to catch up on some of the comebacks i missed. txt’s temptation ep, monsta x’s reason ep, enhypen’s dark blood ep, and skz’s 5 star album have been in my rotation lately and i love them!! (duh) so if any of you want to stop by my inbox and fangirl over them with me i’d absolutely love that 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

lastly, a thank you 💌

thanks to all of you that continued to follow me, leave likes/reblogs/comments, and message me while i was gone. you guys truly don’t understand how much your support for me means. like i said, i was close to deleting this account all together, but i decided against it, and it was largely because of you. i decided to keep writing because of you. re-reading all of the precious comments you’ve left me on my older work motivated me and inspired me to continue writing first love which sparked my joy again. so, thank you. i also hope some of you read this and it encourages you to leave love for other writers like myself. you could be the one that changes someone’s entire outlook on their account and keep them going. at the very least, you’ll make their day 💕

also, thank you for 4,000 followers??? um what the fuck??? i’ve never had so many people supporting me, i’m actually losing my marbles rn please help me find them??? (that was such a lame joke, okay i’m going to bed soon 😭🥱 ily bye)

i love you. i love you. i love you. more content is coming soon. promise. 😚💗

#moon’s announcements 📢

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mdhwrites · 8 months

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So with your wonderful analyses on shows, how do you think Sunset Shimmer's story (redemption from evil mean bully to an empathetic hero) on Equestria Girls' spin off was? Is it every bit as good as what fans hype it up to be?

I... can't wholly comment. Not because I'm entirely unfamiliar with what you're talking about, I watched the first three Equestria Girls movies... But I also watched them over half a decade ago when they came out. I haven't watched literally any My Little Pony since midway through season... 6? Whenever Starlight joined the cast.

I can remember some of my strong feelings about certain aspects of it, partially because the bronalysis community was part of why I ended up joining the fandom as a whole and began fanfic writing so MLP was when I was first cutting my teeth on analysis but weirdly enough... I never really questioned Sunset's redemption arc, even back then.

Part of it is because they're movies, not a show. Redemption arcs get a little weird with that because the structure and pacing of such things is a lot odder. What I will say is that I do agree that it's not bad. People don't just forget what Sunset did but kind of crucially to keep those movies enjoyable, they never just tell you to think the end of the first movie was pointless. People are genuinely giving Sunset a second chance, even if maybe with a bit of trepidation, she's actively worried about reverting some but you can also see that same fire, drive and passion that led to how she was before. I think Equestria Girls, from what my memory says, was actually REALLY important for this because Sunset is a bit too demure in Rainbow Rocks, a bit too purely nice, but the third movie makes it clear that it was a defense response. The old Sunset isn't 100% gone, she's just figuring out how to balance it all.

Which I mean... All of that is a billion times better than "I will murder every timeline of existence" Starlight Glimmer being redeemed simply because she lost a single friend when she was young. No I don't care that the show is called "FRIENDSHIP is Magic", Starlight is still arguably the most destructive, spiteful villains I ever saw in that show and brushing it under the rug was not okay with me, let alone with the fact that the MANIPULATOR uses MIND CONTROL within half a season of being redeemed!

*siiiiiiiiiiigh* But again, take anything I say about MLP with a grain of salt. It has been two and a half years since I last logged into Fimfiction, mostly to delete some of the few stories I wasn't willing to condone keeping up, and I still have no plans to return. Not with how I left.

Oh, but because I feel like it, just some stats from Fimfiction because it was still like five years of my life: I published over a million words worth of material over the course of 205 stories.

I made over 1300 blogs so if you thought me being a windbag was new, NOPE!

And I have over 1,500 followers on it, placing me... A HUNDRED FIFTIETH ON THE SITE!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?

I won't link it though because, well, I have been wanting to put that part of me away for a long time now. Not just the poor quality work of my old days but the type of person I was. I joined the Brony fandom at 17 after all and while hitting rock bottom during college while being a part of it helped make me into a better person, I had to go pretty low to get there first. As such, linking it feels like condoning that old person, even if I'm not about to hide it.

Isn't that what redemption and growth is about after all? Recognizing you did wrong in the past and trying to do better? And I know for me, I'm still trying to constantly learn how I can do better. Maybe it's even part of why redemption arcs mean so much to me and why I hadn't considered Sunset's in the past. I wasn't in the middle of my own by then.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#MLP #Sunset Shimmer

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beepbeepinthecorner · 1 year

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do you mind telling how your ocs stories go? cause their designs are amazing but i want their lore lol

(and i love your artstyle smm <33 )

You're too kind, thank you! It means a lot that you care about my oc's!! I'd be thrilled to talk about my oc lore! I'll do it below the cut, because this is going to run a little long, lol. Not as long as it was going to be (I spent 3 hours writing out an unbelievably in depth response but something wonked out and it all got deleted) but it will still be long.

Since I've posted a few different sets of oc's on this blog I'm not 100% sure which one's you're asking after, but I'll assume these guys based on context clues!

(If you meant someone else feel free to ask again, I'd love to blab about the other ones too haha)

All these characters come from a webcomic that I've been slowly (very slowly) been chipping away at for the past three years. I am waiting to publish any pages until I have a significant chunk more of it done, so unfortunately it can't be read anywhere yet. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The setting is your typical kinda-but-not-really-medieval fantasy world. Magic is not yet well understood by the general population, but some adventurous few have managed to master it.

First I'll go through the characters one by one!

The angular woman in blue is Valen Turnbull, our first of two main characters. She was born and raised in the cliffside town Blackport. Ever since childhood she has been strong, brave, and dutiful. She even had a little bit of a rebellious streak, though she (mostly) grew out of it. She left home after a vicious attack from Sea Spirits sunk most of the town. She felt tremendous guilt that she couldn't do more to protect the town, despite the fact that she single-handedly kept the equivalent of a sentient hurricane at bay. The only one she told about leaving was her best friend, Darius. He wished she would stay, but in the end he understood. Everyone copes differently. There is a lot more to say about her, but frankly I cant find the heart after losing a whole paragraph to a computer glitch. X﹏X

The smiley woman in red is named Laine Feywell, and she is the second of the two main characters. As a young adult her best friend (who is unnamed but will be referred to as 'Green') left home so start his own adventuring guild, so naturally she joined him. As the Guild grew, eventually Valen joined and became fast friends with Laine. Unfortunately, the Guild was not fated to last. Out of greed Green began taking morally questionable jobs for the Guild to do, which Valen opposed. This ended in a battle, in which Laine took Valen's side and defeated the rest of the Guild. After that the Guild disbanded, and Laine and Valen continued to travel together.

I actually have an animatic about it! I'm no animator, and it's the only animatic I've ever managed to finish, but here's the link if you want to see it!

The last character I'll go over today is this scraggly and emotional man in green- Darius. Though he is only a side character in the comic, he champions my heart. I unfortunately have no good art pieces of him, only the panels from the comic he's featured in. I'll have to remedy that someday! Darius's backstory mimics Valens a good deal, since they grew up and went to school together in Blackport. Initially Darius was very shy and unsure of himself, but Valen's boldness proved infectious, and he eventually grew up to be a brave, yet scrawny man. On the day the Sea Spirits attacked Blackport, Darius tried to talk Valen into evacuating with the rest of the citizens for her own sake. Valen wouldn't have it, despite how scared she was. Darius relented, and after evacuating everyone else actually came back to help her. He chucked everything he could reach from a traveling merchants stand- which luckily happened to be selling magical curios. Eventually something he threw seemed to work, and the Spirits abated their attack.

Finally, here's various fun facts about the characters/story!

Laine and Valen eventually get married!!! They fall in love after the guild incident, and confess their feelings after another near death experience. As young adults, they're really unusually intense and kind of scary together. Thankfully they mellow out with age (somewhat lol)

The town of Blackport is actually named after the ex-general-turned-minor-god who founded it! The God is referred to as 'Lady Blackport' or 'The Lady.' She is said to still watch over and protect the town, though her temple was dragged to the bottom of the ocean by the Sea Spirits. People who believe in or follow this god are known to use exclamations such as "Oh Lady above!" or "Lady forgive me." or even "Lady Blessed."

Laine has been working to teach Valen magic over the years. While Laine mastered it a long ago, Valen has been slow to pick it up. However she is both stubborn and eager to learn, so she'll surely master it someday!

The final thing I'll mention is a little au I have of this gang. They're just a bunch of teenagers running an urban exploring youtube channel. Laine is the leader of the bunch, but prone to injury because of her over-eagerness. She also puts together the cutest outfits before delving into abandoned buildings! Valen is their cameraman and Laine's girlfriend, and though she isn't as injury prone as Laine, she's just as foolhardy and actively encourages Laine into dangerous situations. She's also on her school swim team! Darius is the relative straight-man of the group, but not by much. Rather than talking them out of exploring potentially dangerous abandoned buildings, he'll just research if they need to be concerned about asbestos or similar concerns. He is the heart-throb of the DnD club <3

Anyway, that's all I'll say I think! The post is already massive, but hey it's not everyday someone prompts me to talk about my oc's!! So thank you for that again I love you for that!!! I think I covered most of the basics of things, but if there's anything anyone wants to know do not hesitate to ask! Clearly I love to blab ahahah I'm sure this is more than you were bargaining for when you actually asked, but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Once again it was going to be longer before my computer vetoed it and deleted the whole damn post lmaooo.

#I blabbed an unbelievable amount here. and frankly idk how to tag it #answered #my oc drawing #my ocs #original character #character design #oc lore #oc drawing #my oc art #lgbtq oc #lgbt characters #lgbtq characters #if anyone actually reads all of this I'll be shocked ga;hdgaha that's on me for making a massive wall of text lol #beepbeepart

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jadegrey711 · 3 years

Text

Snow Covered Dream

Eric Northman x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello my loves so I got this request for a soft Eric Northan what feels like eons ago, and I’m finally feeling some inspiration for it. It’s been particularly hard for me for this one since when i originally started writing for it I had a good thing going and while I was an my ipad i rotated it and somehow deleted everything I had. So this is attempt number two for this one. I hope you guys like it and if you could show it some love! And to the sweet person who sent this request in I really hope you think it’s worth the wait.

Prompt: Hey can I send a request in for Eric Northman x reader please? Could you maybe do one where him and the reader have been seeing each other for some time now and then they have sex for the first time and it’s really sweet and the reader lets eric bite her for the first time and they just realise how much they love each other, if not don’t worry about it! Thank you, love your writing!

*NOT MY GIF. ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

Word Count: 3212 Holy fuck this became it’s own novel. I think this is the most I’ve ever written for something like this. Fuck i hope it’s not shit

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake.

Warnings: 18+ people. Oral (f recieving), mentions of blowjobs, Tantric sex (if you squint), vaginal sex

Song Inspiration:

Best Part - Daniel Caesar, H.E.R

Morning View - Towkio, SZA

Looking Through your Eyes - LeAnn Rimes

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This isn’t the first time that Eric has stolen you away for some kind of romantic adventure. He’s been around for a thousand years and there’s just so many places he wants to show you; places you’ve never even heard of and spots that feel like no other human has laid a foot there before.

However, this adventure felt different, like when it was over Eric wasn’t planning on letting you go; like he planned to keep you and you couldn’t find anything bad about that.

“Eric are you ever going to tell me where we are going?” You smiled, seeing the mischievous smirk on his lips.

“We are already here, sötma.” he stated and you swore his smile got wider, as you quickly whipped your head back towards the window to see if you could finally see your destination. But only found the same endless snowy expanse out your window.

“Where?”

“This is all of my property. It’s not huge but just a bit further up this road there’s a little house I keep for when I want to truly get away from everything.”

You waited for a few more minutes keeping your eyes peeled out the window for any sign of the house and then suddenly just out in the distance you saw a spot of bright red. You felt your excitement grow as you watched the house steadily come into view. That spot of bright red growing until you could finally see the whole house; a bright red one that was nestled right in the middle of the property surrounded by what looked like a small farm house and hidden away by the snow covered pine trees that surrounded it.To put it in a word it looked magical.

“Do you like it sötma?” Eric asked, turning his head just enough to gauge your reaction.

“Oh Eric! It’s so beautiful! It’s like a snow covered dream.” You said wistfully and then pulled your focus from the car window to Eric and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

Eric hummed his satisfaction. “I’m so glad you like it. This is one of my favorite places and I thought I might share it with one of my favorite people. I can’t wait to show you the rest of the house, I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will.” You beamed at him and took his hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. “I’m never disappointed with anything you show me Eric.”

Eric said nothing at your praise, but simply took your hand that was holding his and pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, before taking your wrist and kissing the palm of your hand; sending a flush of warmth through you despite the endless cold outside the car.

When Eric pulled up in front of the house, you immediately got out of the car and stepped out onto the fresh snow just to marvel at the bright red house. The way the snow was settled perfectly on the tops of the roof and on the pine trees that surrounded the house it looked like the perfect christmas card.

“How come you never told me you lived in a Hallmark movie?” You asked turning back to face Eric who had both your bag and his slung under each arm.

“I don’t. It’s just Sweden. Everything looks like a Hallmark movie here in winter.” he chuckled as the both of you walked towards the large wooden front door. Eric easily maneuvered the bags in his hands to pull out the small set of keys and quickly unlocked the front door, letting you both into the house and out of the cold of the outside. However, there wasn’t much relief from the cold inside the house either.

You started to shiver as you made your way to the center of the cold house, clutching your jacket tighter to your body.

Eric looked over and saw you shivering and immediately took off his jacket and put it on top of your shoulders. “I’ll get a fire going in a second sötma.For right now I want you to sit here.” He said as he pulled your shivering body into a main sitting room where a very large fireplace sat on the far wall.

Eric sat you down on the plush sofa that laid in front of the fireplace and you clutched his jacket tighter to your body as you watched Eric get the fire going with his quick and efficient hands.

Hours later after you and Eric unpacked your things and both of you had your dinner. You found yourself sitting in Eric’s lap on a fur rug in front of that luxurious fire. The feeling of the fire warming your skin and the feel of Eric underneath you as he stroked her hair lovingly, warmed more than just your skin; you felt your heart and soul warm from the contentment that you felt in this moment.

As content as you were though in this moment you knew that you wanted more. You wanted more from Eric than just his soft kisses and loving caresses, you weren’t a fool you knew the reputation that surrounded Eric when you started seeing him.

Ruthless killer and slayer of hearts but that wasn’t the side he presented you with everyday nor was it something he tried hiding from you. It wasn’t something that you felt like he needed to hide anyway. Everyone has shit in their past and in Eric’s case he’s got a whole mountain range of shit he’s got to deal with from his past but he’s grown and you’ve seen that growth. Hell. You being here wrapped safely in his arms in some remote house in god knows where Sweden should be proof enough of that growth; of the trust you place in him. So much so that you feel confident enough to pull from his soft touches and look at him in those blazing glacier eyes.

You let out a small breath, and reached out your hand, cupping his face before you pulled him slowly in for a soft lingering kiss. Eric hummed his approval against your lips and then you took him by surprise as you tilted your head slightly and deepened the kiss, your tongue playfully dipping in his mouth and tangling with his.

You smiled against Eric’s lips as you heard him let out a low growl, his strong hands that were at his side, coming up to grab your hips bringing you closer to his body. You let out a low gasp as Eric pressed you closer to his body and you felt just how hard he was for you already.

You pulled your sweet lips away from Eric’s smirking as you heard him softly whisper “No.” when you pulled away. But you or your lips didn’t go far. You pulled away just enough that you were still most definitely in kissing range.

Eric watched you as you placed your small hands on his strong chest, letting you control every action and determining just how far this night was going to go. He loved it when you were brave for him, with him, taking control and taking what you want from him. He’s waited for this moment for so long but one word from you and he would go jump in the endless snow outside and quickly cure himself of his raging hard on.

Your hands continued their leisurely journey down Eric’s chest until you got to the hem of his shirt. You looked back up at Eric’s face, as if you were asking permission. He nodded and your fingers brushed the skin underneath his shirt and gasped at how cold he was. But you didn’t let that deter you one bit as you grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted it up and over his head; with Eric’s help of course. And then your hands were all over his bare chest starting back up at his strong shoulders, then trailing down his chest your fingers stop over where his heart is; and feeling a certain sadness that you wouldn’t feel it’s steady beat under your touch.

Eric seemed to sense what you were feeling and grabbed your chin making you look up at him. “Your heart is big enough that it beats for the both of us, sötma.” he whispered lovingly before placing a kiss on your lips and letting your chin go so you can continue with your exploration.

You leaned down and placed a kiss to that spot on his chest, biting your lip when you heard Eric’s little gasp. Your hands went down feeling his hard abs and then those delicious hip “v’s” that you so desperately needed to run your tongue over but maybe later tonight. You looked back up at Eric’s face and grabbed one of his massive hands; Eric watched intently as you flipped his hand over and started to lovingly trace the lines there.

Eric couldn’t help himself any longer the same hand that you so lovingly traced he used to cup your cheek, and traced your lips with his thumb.

“Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” He asked as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head leaving your chest bare to him.

You felt your cheeks flush. “No. I don’t think you’ve ever told me before. Why don’t you count the ways.” You giggled and let out a little squeal as Eric flipped the both of you over so your back was to the soft fur rug and he was sprawled out on top of you.

“You’re such a little shit you know that?” He smirked as he leaned down and kissed a spot at your chest, giving it a little suck. Making whatever little smart comment you were about to say dissolve from your mind as you felt Eric ladden your body with open mouth kisses. First to your neck and then your collarbones and then to the spot right where your heart was.

“Eric.” his name falling from your mouth in a breathy whisper.

His hair tickled your face as he kissed lower and you let out a gasp as his tongue swirled around your nipple, making your back arch from the surprise of it.

“So sensitive.” he chided and you felt a gush of warmth spread between your thighs at his words. Before you watched him bring that nipple into his mouth and give it a light suck before he went to do the same to the other. “I wonder where else you're sensitive.” He purred as you felt his lips brush reverently against the bottom of your breasts before continuing his journey to where you were most sensitive.

You tangled your hands in his hair as he reached your pants and he held your gaze as he undid each of the buttons, making you smile as he lifted your hips up and pulled your pants completely off, leaving you completely bare to him.

“Oh, Y/N.” He purred as he admired your naked body sprawled out in front of him on his fur rug looking like a norse goddess. “Every part of you is a gift.” He said as he grabbed one of your legs and placed soft kisses there before doing the same to the other. He loved how sprawled out you were for him like a feast all for him.

“Eric.” You moaned out his name again as you watched him settle himself between your legs, his strong shoulders keeping you spreaded out for him as you watched as he took his index finger and ran it down your slit making you gasp. You watched eagerly as he placed that finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

“Just as sweet as I knew you’d be, baby.” He smirked and then you felt his tongue flick up your folds before swirling around your clit making your hips buck up into his face.

You watched as Eric swiveled his head side to side and elicited more moans from you each one getting louder and louder as he sucked your clit and he fucked you with his tongue. Your fingers alternated between burying themselves in Eric’s soft hair to gripping the fur rug behind you as you watched Eric devour you.

As you felt your orgasm climb you started to writhe under Eric but he easily placed his strong arm over you stomach keeping you under his delicious torture. “Eric, baby I’m gonna come.” You moaned, feeling like you were going to fall over the edge any second.

“Go ahead baby, come for me. Let me see how pretty you look when you fall apart.” He purred before he added his fingers and crooked them inside you and you fell apart. Eric ate you out through your orgasm letting you ride that wave of pleasure until you finally went limp under him.

You watched with shaky breaths as Eric pulled away from you giving your clit a kiss before smiling up at you. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of this sweet pussy, sötma.” he said before climbing up and kissing you deeply letting you taste yourself.

“Are you ready for me, sötma?” He asked and then you felt his strong fingers rub against your soaked folds before he entered you feeling how wet you were for him. “Oh yeah, I think you’re ready for me.” He smiled, kissing you again before standing up and unbuttoning his pants before quickly discarding them.

He looked like a god from this angle, all strong and hard muscles as he loomed over you, his hard cock springing to his stomach. You’d never been particularly fond of blowjobs mainly because of how your past lovers would grab your head and try to force you down more. But you didn’t feel that Eric you wanted to be at his knees lavishing him with pleasure while he stroked your head lovingly gifting you with lavish praises about how good you were for him.

Maybe another night. You thought to yourself.

Eric knelt back down till he was sprawled back over you and proceeded to ladden you with soft open mouth kisses, his hands massaging your breasts until you could feel the need between your legs grow until it was too much; you needed Eric now.

“Eric, please.” You moaned breathily.

“Are you sure you want me now? We have all night, baby.” He said, kissing your neck again. “Maybe you let me play with that pussy for another hour and then I’ll fuck you.”

You felt you center throb at the thought at what kind of pleasure could pull from you in an hour; not still not fuck you.

“No. I want you Eric. I need you inside me now. Please.” You whispered in his ear earning a low growl from him.

“Well, there’s no way I can deny such a pretty girl when she’s begging for me.” He hummed and you felt his hard length press up against your folds. “This what you want from me?” He asked, knowing full well, that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me?” you gasped feeling Eric’s hard length press deeper into you, letting you get used to him as he stretched you out for him.

“Oh baby you’ve got such a mouth on you. I can’t wait to see it wrapped around my cock. I just know you’d look so pretty on your knees for me.” He purred as he slid home, making you moan in his ear as he pressed close to your body,to your warmth.

Eric kept his pace slow letting you get used to his invasion but also to leave you breathless and wanting under him. He knows what you want; that you want him to pound into you and he will have no worry about that. He can’t wait to hear the lewd sounds of your wet pussy as he drives into you over and over until you scream his name. But right now he wants to draw this out, really feel each part of you and then he’ll pound into your aching pussy.

“Eric, please.” you breathed out, your nails gripping his back as he kept his pace slow and sensual, making you writhe beneath him.

“Please what? Sötma.”

“Harder.” You begged.

Eric chuckled against your skin. “I just can’t deny you anything can I?” He asked, looking at your face.

“Please Eric.”

“Alright, baby.” He said and before you knew it, Eric pulled out of you and brought his hands under your back and brought you up to his until you were straddling him and just as quickly as he pulled out of you, did he plunge himself back into your wet folds; setting a brutal pace as he fucked up into you.

You let out a scream of pleasure as your hands wrapped around Eric and held him close as he fucked you.

“Is this what you want, baby?”

“Yes.” You whimpered, kissing Eric’s neck and sucked at the spot where his shoulder and neck meet earning a low groan from him.

“Oh Eric!” You moaned, your nails gripping onto his back. “I-I I’m going to come.”

“Come for me sötma. Grip me with that tight little pussy of yours.” He growled as he drove into you harder and you felt yourself go supernova as your orgasm racked your body. Eric held you tight, slowing his pace down just enough to let you ride through your orgasm.

After a few seconds though you felt Eric’s pace quicken again and to your surprise his quickening pace was building you up to another orgasm.

“Eric. I don’t think I can survive another one.” You moaned, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Eric tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled enough to bring your face to his.

“You can and you will baby. I want to feel you squeeze my cock again, with that beautiful pussy.” He growled and kissed you, his hand leaving your hair to snake between your bodies and rub small circles on your oversensitive clit and you gasped into his kiss as you felt your orgasm crash over you as Eric held you close to him, as he chased his own end.

“Fuck! I love you so much, Y/N.” He screamed as his own orgasm crashed over him, holding you closer to his body as he fell back down onto the soft fur rug underneath him.

As you laid on top of Eric trying to calm your breathing and find your equilibrium again. Eric’s fingers found your hair again and stroked it lovingly.

“I love you too ya know?” You smiled and kissed his chest. “And not just for the sex. Although I could definitely get used to that.” You laughed.

“You are trouble.” He said, scrunching his nose at you before bringing your lips to his in another searing kiss.

#jade tries writing #smutty smut smut #true blood #true blood oneshots #eric northman x you #eric northman oneshots #eric northman x reader #eric northman imagine #true blood imagines #jadegrey writes #my writing

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harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

washed away in you

I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)

Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!

word count: 4.2k

needles tw // (small mention towards the end)

I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist

y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!

Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.

Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.

It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.

“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”

Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.

“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”

“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”

“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”

“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”

“You knew the system, we changed it.”

“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”

“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.

“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.

“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”

Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.

“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”

“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”

“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”

“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”

“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”

“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”

You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body.

It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.

In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest.

When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”

His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.

“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”

His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.

“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”

“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”

He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”

“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”

“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”

You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.

“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”

“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.

“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”

“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”

You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.

“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”

You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.

He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.

Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“You can look. If you want.”

“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”

“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”

“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.”

“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.”

“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”

“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.”

“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare.

Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.

Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled.

So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face.

You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings.

You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”

He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”

“4:30.”

He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”

“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”

“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”

You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”

Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.

“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”

“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.”

You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.

“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”

“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”

You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”

“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?”

“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”

“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”

“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.

“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”

His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”

“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”

He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?”

“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”

“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”

He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”

Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.

“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”

He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”

Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.

Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”

“Why? Are you having one now?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.

“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.

“Much. How are you so calm?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.

Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.

He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.

“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.”

Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further.

“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”

That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply, “You’re such a bad liar.”

“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.

It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.

An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.

He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”

“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.

He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the exhaustion of the day washes over you.

You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #dad!harry #still not perfect but I like it so much more #hope you all enjoy it!

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

20 years a blogger

It's been twenty years, to the day, since I published my first blog-post.

I'm a blogger.

Blogging - publicly breaking down the things that seem significant, then synthesizing them in longer pieces - is the defining activity of my days.

https://boingboing.net/2001/01/13/hey-mark-made-me-a.html

Over the years, I've been lauded, threatened, sued (more than once). I've met many people who read my work and have made connections with many more whose work I wrote about. Combing through my old posts every morning is a journey through my intellectual development.

It's been almost exactly a year I left Boing Boing, after 19 years. It wasn't planned, and it wasn't fun, but it was definitely time. I still own a chunk of the business and wish them well. But after 19 years, it was time for a change.

A few weeks after I quit Boing Boing, I started a solo project. It's called Pluralistic: it's a blog that is published simultaneously on Twitter, Mastodon, Tumblr, a newsletter and the web. It's got no tracking or ads. Here's the very first edition:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/

I don't often do "process posts" but this merits it. Here's how I built Pluralistic and here's how it works today, after nearly a year.

I get up at 5AM and make coffee. Then I sit down on the sofa and open a huge tab-group, and scroll through my RSS feeds using Newsblur.

I spend the next 1-2 hours winnowing through all the stuff that seems important. I have a chronic pain problem and I really shouldn't sit on the sofa for more than 10 minutes, so I use a timer and get up every 10 minutes and do one minute of physio.

After a couple hours, I'm left with 3-4 tabs that I want to write articles about that day. When I started writing Pluralistic, I had a text file on my desktop with some blank HTML I'd tinkered with to generate a layout; now I have an XML file (more on that later).

First I go through these tabs and think up metadata tags I want to use for each; I type these into the template using my text-editor (gedit), like this:

<xtags>

process, blogging, pluralistic, recursion, navel-gazing

</xtags>

Each post has its own little template. It needs an anchor tag (for this post, that's "hfbd"), a title ("20 years a blogger") and a slug ("Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting"). I fill these in for each post.

Then I come up with a graphic for each post: I've got a giant folder of public domain clip-art, and I'm good at using all the search tools for open-licensed art: the Library of Congress, Wikimedia, Creative Commons, Flickr Commons, and, ofc, Google Image Search.

I am neither an artist nor a shooper, but I've been editing clip art since I created pixel-art versions of the Frankie Goes to Hollywood glyphs using Bannermaker for the Apple //c in 1985 and printed them out on enough fan-fold paper to form a border around my bedroom.

As I create the graphics, I pre-compose Creative Commons attribution strings to go in the post; there's two versions, one for the blog/newsletter and one for Mastodon/Twitter/Tumblr. I compose these manually.

Here's a recent one:

Blog/Newsletter:

(<i>Image: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg">Marc Nozell</a>, <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en">CC BY</a>, modified</i>)

Twitter/Masto/Tumblr:

Image: Marc Nozell (modified)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg

CC BY

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

This is purely manual work, but I've been composing these CC attribution strings since CC launched in 2003, and they're just muscle-memory now. Reflex.

These attribution strings, as well as anything else I'll need to go from Twitter to the web (for example, the names of people whose Twitter handles I use in posts, or images I drop in, go into the text file). Here's how the post looks at this point in the composition.

<hr>

<h1>20 years a blogger</h1><xtagline>Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting.</xtagline>

See that <img> tag in there for frnklogo.jpg? I snuck that in while I was composing this in Twitter. When I locate an image on the web I want to use in a post, I save it to a dir on my desktop that syncs every 60 seconds to the /images/ dir on my webserver.

As I save it, I copy the filename to my clipboard, flip over to gedit, and type in the <img> tag, pasting the filename. I've typed <img src="https://craphound.com/images/ CTRL-V"> tens of thousands of times - muscle memory.

Once the thread is complete, I copy each tweet back into gedit, tabbing back and forth, replacing Twitter handles and hashtags with non-Twitter versions, changing the ALL CAPS EMPHASIS to the extra-character-consuming *asterisk-bracketed emphasis*.

My composition is greatly aided both 20 years' worth of mnemonic slurry of semi-remembered posts and the ability to search memex.craphound.com (the site where I've mirrored all my Boing Boing posts) easily.

A huge, searchable database of decades of thoughts really simplifies the process of synthesis.

Next I port the posts to other media. I copy the headline and paste it into a new Tumblr compose tab, then import the image and tag the post "pluralistic."

Then I paste the text of the post into Tumblr and manually select, cut, and re-paste every URL in the post (because Tumblr's automatic URL-to-clickable-link tool's been broken for 10+ months).

Next I past the whole post into a Mastodon compose field. Working by trial and error, I cut it down to <500 characters, breaking at a para-break and putting the rest on my clipboard. I post, reply, and add the next item in the thread until it's all done.

*Then* I hit publish on my Twitter thread. Composing in Twitter is the most unforgiving medium I've ever worked in. You have to keep each stanza below 280 chars. You can't save a thread as a draft, so as you edit it, you have to pray your browser doesn't crash.

And once you hit publish, you can't edit it. Forever. So you want to publish Twitter threads LAST, because the process of mirroring them to Tumblr and Mastodon reveals typos and mistakes (but there's no way to save the thread while you work!).

Now I create a draft Wordpress post on pluralistic.net, and create a custom slug for the page (today's is "two-decades"). Saving the draft generates the URL for the page, which I add to the XML file.

Once all the day's posts are done, I make sure to credit all my sources in another part of that master XML file, and then I flip to the command line and run a bunch of python scripts that do MAGIC: formatting the master file as a newsletter, a blog post, and a master thread.

Those python scripts saved my ASS. For the first two months of Pluralistic, i did all the reformatting by hand. It was a lot of search-replace (I used a checklist) and I ALWAYS screwed it up and had to debug, sometimes taking hours.

Then, out of the blue, a reader - Loren Kohnfelder - wrote to me to point out bugs in the site's RSS. He offered to help with text automation and we embarked on a month of intensive back-and-forth as he wrote a custom suite for me.

Those programs take my XML file and spit out all the files I need to publish my site, newsletter and master thread (which I pin to my profile). They've saved me more time than I can say. I probably couldn't kept this up without Loren's generous help (thank you, Loren!).

I open up the output from the scripts in gedit. I paste the blog post into the Wordpress draft and copy-paste the metadata tags into WP's "tags" field. I preview the post, tweak as necessary, and publish.

(And now I write this, I realize I forgot to mention that while I'm doing the graphics, I also create a square header image that makes a grid-collage out of the day's post images, using the Gimp's "alignment" tool)

(because I'm composing this in Twitter, it would be a LOT of work to insert that information further up in the post, where it would make sense to have it - see what I mean about an unforgiving medium?)

(While I'm on the subject: putting the "add tweet to thread" and "publish the whole thread" buttons next to each other is a cruel joke that has caused me to repeatedly publish before I was done, and deleting a thread after you publish it is a nightmare)

Now I paste the newsletter file into a new mail message, address it to my Mailman server, and create a custom subject for the day, send it, open the Mailman admin interface in a browser, and approve the message.

Now it's time to create that anthology post you can see pinned to my Mastodon and Twitter accounts. Loren's script uses a template to produce all the tweets for the day, but it's not easy to get that pre-written thread into Twitter and Mastodon.

Part of the problem is that each day's Twitter master thread has a tweet with a link to the day's Mastodon master thread ("Are you trying to wean yourself off Big Tech? Follow these threads on the #fediverse at @[email protected]. Here's today's edition: LINK").

So the first order of business is to create the Mastodon thread, pin it, copy the link to it, and paste it into the template for the Twitter thread, then create and pin the Twitter thread.

Now it's time to get ready for tomorrow. I open up the master XML template file and overwrite my daily working file with its contents. I edit the file's header with tomorrow's date, trim away any "Upcoming appearances" that have gone by, etc.

Then I compose tomorrow's retrospective links. I open tabs for this day a year ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 15 years ago, and (now) 20 years ago:

http://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2016/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2011/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2006/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2001/01/14

I go through each day, and open anything I want to republish in its own tab, then open the OP link in the next tab (finding it in the @internetarchive if necessary). Then I copy my original headline and the link to the article into tomorrow's XML file, like so:

#10yrsago Disney World’s awful Tiki Room catches fire <a href="https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/">https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/</a>

And NOW my day is done.

So, why do I do all this?

First and foremost, I do it for ME. The memex I've created by thinking about and then describing every interesting thing I've encountered is hugely important for how I understand the world. It's the raw material of every novel, article, story and speech I write.

And I do it for the causes I believe in. There's stuff in this world I want to change for the better. Explaining what I think is wrong, and how it can be improved, is the best way I know for nudging it in a direction I want to see it move.

The more people I reach, the more it moves.

When I left Boing Boing, I lost access to a freestanding way of communicating. Though I had popular Twitter and Tumblr accounts, they are at the mercy of giant companies with itchy banhammers and arbitrary moderation policies.

I'd long been a fan of the POSSE - Post Own Site, Share Everywhere - ethic, the idea that your work lives on platforms you control, but that it travels to meet your readers wherever they are.

Pluralistic posts start out as Twitter threads because that's the most constrained medium I work in, but their permalinks (each with multiple hidden messages in their slugs) are anchored to a server I control.

When my threads get popular, I make a point of appending the pluralistic.net permalink to them.

When I started blogging, 20 years ago, blogger.com had few amenities. None of the familiar utilities of today's media came with the package.

Back then, I'd manually create my headlines with <h2> tags. I'd manually create discussion links for each post on Quicktopic. I'd manually paste each post into a Yahoo Groups email. All the guff I do today to publish Pluralistic is, in some way, nothing new.

20 years in, blogging is still a curious mix of both technical, literary and graphic bodgery, with each day's work demanding the kind of technical minutuae we were told would disappear with WYSIWYG desktop publishing.

I grew up in the back-rooms of print shops where my dad and his friends published radical newspapers, laying out editions with a razor-blade and rubber cement on a light table. Today, I spend hours slicing up ASCII with a cursor.

I go through my old posts every day. I know that much - most? - of them are not for the ages. But some of them are good. Some, I think, are great. They define who I am. They're my outboard brain.

#pluralistic

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bonbonbun-luna · 4 years

Note

Cool! Can you do a crossover/AU where Marinette a Youtuber, by secret, like just a hobby/second job. But know one knows it hurt since she never show her face since she wears a mask and such. Became friends with many Youtubers, even Markiplier and Game Grumps even argues about adopting her. Then get worried about their “little bug” and learned about some not happy things with about the school, a video of Chat being well not cool and the lies of this liar...Team Miraculous YouTubers!

I hope you gonna like it! This is non-magical AU and I don’t really watch the american youtube(Maybe only Pewds), but if you like it, I’ll write the second part where Marinette will interact with them! Send me more requests guys (ฅ･ิω･ิฅ)

Marinette sighed in disappointment, looking at the trending tab.

The video «Ladybug and I are soulmates» has gained over ten million views and an incredible amount of likes over the past six hours. Reading the comments in which the loyal fans of Chat Noir called her a blind idiot, Mari could hardly hold back her tears.

This has been going on for two years already.

She started making videos three years ago, hiding her true identity with a mask, lenses and a nickname. This should never have become a big deal, but a month after the first video, which somehow magically gained 400,000 views(Mari was sure that her uncle Jagged Stone was involved in this), Netty decided to make another one, finally buying new equipment and completely hiding her room so that no one could recognize it.

Parents watched her with interest, quietly supporting and sincerely rejoicing in their daughter's new ineres.

Sabina couldn't stop smiling, thinking that this year was the best for her baby girl. Her precious daughter finally made friends, scared off her bully, met many celebrities, fell in love and even found a new hobby. Tom cautiously touched all the equipment Marinette bought, being afraid to break something with his big hands.

Blunette ran excitedly, trying to cover the bright pink walls with a peach-colored material. The installation of the camera was difficult for the girl, but she managed, from time to time hissing viciously at interested parents scurrying around her room. When everything was ready, the Netty started the video in dismay, awkwardly waving her hand.

In her hands bluenette held a recently sewn dress, nervously touching the voluminous petticoat. Each time the light hit the skirt, viewers could notice a pattern in the form of birds surrounded by flowers.

Trying to smile boldly, Mari introduced herself as Ladybug and told that she was holding a costume for Clara Nightingale last performance. Gradually, Marinette became more confident, because she finally could talk about what she likes, forgetting about her worries. Smiling proudly, Netty brought the camera closer to the pattern, talking about how she had spent weeks embroidering it. Giggling, she showed fingers injured by a needle and admitted that she was sincerely proud of what she got in result. At the end of the video, she put on a dress on a mannequin and showed every detail, describing the work on it. Standing behind the camera, Netty wished everyone a good evening and shouted «Bugout!», finishing the video.

With the help of her clients, who actively talked about their favorite designer, and Clara Nightingale, who admitted that she wanted to give Marinette the main role in her clip, the video instantly gained a million views, causing the whole school to buzz with delight, and asking her fans(God, she had fans!!!) to make a new video.

It was stupid, but Marinette squealed almost a few hours in a row, excitedly jumping around the room. Sabina and Tom, selling pastries below, actively distracted frightened customers. Awareness of how happy their daughter was, warmed the hearts of loving parents and they couldn't stop smiling.

The realization that she was a celebrity came to Mari only when her best friend Alya started a blog about her, trying to reveal her true identity. After an attempt to credibly rejoice over Cesaire, the embarrassed but determined Netty set about writing the script and release dates for the commercials. It took her almost two weeks, but it was worth it, because at the end she had a normalized schedule and she finally clearly knew what she was going to talk about.

The third Marinette's video, in which she showed and described in detail the work on the cover of the album of Jagedd Stone, attracted the attention of the famous youtuber Chat Noir. The playfully grinning blond admitted in one of his videos that he was beginning to hate his popularity and it was the inspirational speeches of the little seamstress that made him stay. In the end, he winked flirtingly, asking the girl for an autograph. A few hours after the release of his video several thousand grateful fans signed up on her channel, and all the comments yelled that she was their savior. Smiling like an idiot, she tried to answer everyone, quietly rejoicing that she was able to help someone. The number of her subscribers rapidly increased to 800,000 and she couldn't stop excitedly rushing to the phone with every notification.

At one such happy moment instead of another comment she saw a message from Chat Noir. Blushing and goosebumps, she read about how he would like to work with her, and girl couldn't stop giggling. Trying to hold the phone with trembling hands, she quickly agreed, screeching into the pillow from shock. If she only knew back then what exactly would bring this to her...

Two weeks later they first met each other. The guy smiled playfully when he saw Ladybug, and instead of shaking hands he kissed her hand. Instinctively, the girl pushed him away and shook her head.

«Borders, kitty, borders».

Chat Noir laughed and invited her inside his studio. During the video recording, the young man actively flirted and involuntarily Marinette freed herself and began to respond to flirt. The blonde seemed to her as a long-drawn-out friend and she felt absolutely free with him. Needless to say, the video has become damn popular, forcing fans to wonder if they was dating.

The bluenette immediately began to deny everything, saying that this was their first meeting and they were just acquaintances, to which she received a promise from Chat Noir that he would soon become her boyfriend. Back then Marinette ignored this comment, dismissing it as a silly joke, but now she could not help but regret it.

The girl rubbed her eyes tiredly, looking displeased at the time. The clock showed that there were four hours left before school and Netty couldn't help but regret that she had not gone to bed earlier. She was sure that at school she would face another batch of charges, and therefore sighed wearily.

Eight months ago Lila Rossi came to school. She was an obsessive liar, actively manipulating everyone she met. On the very first day, she began to claim that she was Ladybug's best friend, confidentially reporting that she had introduced the youtuber to Jagged Stone. Smiling brazenly, she said that half of the costume ideas belonged to her. Boiling with anger, Marinette tried to tell everyone about her lies, but her classmates was instantly turned on, calling her a bully.

Now, when the school was a clan by the board of this cunning fox, who took control of even the principal Mr. Damocles, it was almost impossible for a bluenette to study. Every day was like a bad drama when she was accused of every crime that could be.

Sometimes, when Marinette was tired, she began to talk about her problems with her friends from youtube.

«It's almost impossible, 'ya know. When I go to school I am among idiots with one brain cell, and when I record a video, I endure the harassment of this moron Noir. Who am I now, a Wonder Woman?»

She never noticed the worried glances that threw at her, so she had no idea that soon there was a surprise waiting for her.

In the afternoon, trying to endure the ridicule of her classmates, she consoled herself with the fact that the weekend would begin very soon.

«Wow, you sigh so tiredly. Being such a bully is probably so hard», a sarcastic voice sounded nearby.

Turning her head, she noticed a gloomy Alya, who put her hands on her hips. Behind Cessarie stood scared and embarrassed Nino, and Adrian's head could be seen behind his shoulder. Seeing Mari’s resolve, Agreste shook his head in condemnation. Can't Marinette just calm down? All she needs is to become friends with Lila and then all the problems will end.

«What do you need, Alya? I'm tired and want to relax», the bluenette snorted, rolling her eyes and looking calmly at her ex-friends.

Alya angrily clapped her hands on the table, her eyes burned with a fire of justice.

«What do I need? What do YOU need from Lila? Stop bullying her! She never did to you anything bad, and you continue to cling to a good person because of your jealousy!»

Marinette grimaced, squeezing the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

«I have no idea what you're talking about, Alya! I haven’t talked with Rossi for more than three months!»

Lila, sitting at the first desk, sobbed, innocently opening her tear-stained eyes.

«Marinette, how can you lie like that! Yesterday you deleted all my contacts! How do I get in touch with my bestie, Ladybug? She recently moved to New York!»

Alya looked sadly at her friend, wanting to console her, and then turned to Netty, her eyes flashing viciously.

«I can't believe you, Dupain-Cheng! You are even worse than Chloe! How can you-», the girl’s fiery speech was interrupted by the shocked Miss Bustier, who flew into the classroom.

The woman looked around the class worryingly, and after she found out someone, who she was looking fir, her a thin, frightened voice attracted the class attention.

«Marinette, I... He... Um... There is someone at school who wants to meet you».

Immediately after the words was said, the happy Jagged Stone ran into the class. A tired Penny was trailing behind him, who noticing Mari, waved her hand.

«Netty! My beloved niece! I'm so glad to see you, dear», the man sang, jumping to the end of the class in an instant.

A pale Lila stood next to him, trying to hide, but she was stopped by Alya, who grabbed the girl by the hand. Frightened, Rossi swallowed a lump in her throat.

«Jagged Stone? Excuse me, aren't you recognize Lila? She saved your kitten, remember?».

The rock star made the most astonished grimace that he was capable of, forcing Marinette to hide her face in her hands, expecting something not that good.

«She did what? The last time I saw any cats was in my grandmother's house, at least twenty years back.» The man grinned maliciously, and then, ignoring the dumbfounded faces of the children around, he again turned to the embarrassed bluenette.

«My dear designer, there are several people who would like to talk with you! They need your knowledge and talent.»

«Uncle G, I can’t, I have a school!»

Mrs. Bustier spoke again, awkwardly clearing throat.

«Actually, we got a note from your parents, Marinette. It seems you really can go»

Jagged giggled like a small kid and excitedly handed Mari into Penny's arms, who led the girl out of class, quietly apologizing and explaining the whole situation. Jagged smiled sweetly, and then looked predatoryly at the class teacher.

«By the way, haven't I mentioned that there are a few people who want to meet some more from your class?»

Kids whispered excitedly, hoping that they would be lucky one. The man smirked viciously, laying documents on the tables in front of Mrs. Bustier, Lila, Alya and Adrian. The teacher immediately picked up the sheets in her hands, reading what was written on them, and then fell into a chair, unable to stand on staggering legs. It seemed that a little more and she would faint from shock.

«What is it?», Adrian asked frowningly, frowning.

«This is a lawsuit, Mr. Agreste. For you personally, this is a lawsuit about harassment and a restraining order».

«But I did nothing wrong!», the blond guy screamed indignantly, frowning displeasedly.

«Really? But it seemed to me that when you put on a mask and start calling yourself a Chat Noir, you stop respecting woman's rights and understanding the word 'no'»

Smiling coldly at the frightened schoolchildren, Jagged left the classroom, leaving chaos and drama behind. The man didn't care, he hurried to his wife Penny and his beloved niece, Marinette.

Today will be a wonderful day.

#ml #ml au #ml crossover #mlb #miraculous ladybug #ladybug au #ladybug youtuber #marinette #marinette dupain cheng #marinette defense squad #marinette youtuber #ml salt #alya salt #alya cesaire #class salt #adrien salt

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sassykittynoir · 4 years

Text

The Fashion Rebellion of Adrien Agreste || Part I

Pairing: Adrinette (Marinette Dupain-Cheng x Adrien Agreste) Warnings: Mention of alcohol consumption. Words Count: 1,8k words.

A/N: I would like to say a huge thanks to my dear friend @smileytrinity for her infinite patience and help and support, as well as @helgabatwrittings who motivated me to write this. @miraculouslyinloveagain, @sparklesfriend4700-blog I hope you’ll enjoy this Adrinette. Well, I hope everyone does. <3

His plan was devious. If Plagg's giggles were any indication, Adrien would say he had crossed the line between mischief and Machiavellian by a long shot... alright, maybe it was an overstatement.

"What you’re doing is more dabbling into little shit territory than being an evil menace.” Plagg drawled over his shoulders, only to shrug in disinterest when Adrien remarked that Plagg's barometer was skewed when it came to chaos and mischief.

Evil misdoings or shenanigans, Adrien couldn't bring himself to care or feel an ounce of guilt. After all, a taste of his own medicine wouldn't kill his father.

The whole thing had started a few months ago. He didn't know how such an innocent idea had gotten so out of hand. But, could anyone blame him for wanting to get back at his father when his actions were marred by his malicious intent?

Adrien had once believed his father was an overprotective parent, but, as the years went by, gone was the blind trust he had placed in the adults of his life. The Lucid maturity replaced the juvenile naivety. The perfect family facade had long since shattered, a cold truth seeping inches by inches in its cracks.

The idea blossomed into a fully-fledged plot almost overnight. Mere hours after his father — well Nathalie — had informed Adrien that he couldn't attend Marinette's picnic because his schedule had been modified to accommodate a last minute photoshoot. He had been so irritated that —

“ — I really want to get back at him.” Adrien hissed, plopping down on Chloe's bed. He felt bad for the glare he directed at Mr.cuddly. The poor bear didn't deserve it.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand why you want to attend this dwee — Marinette’s” — Chloe relented at Adrien’s pointed look — “Marinette’s picnic.” Chloe rolled her eyes in disdain, applying the finishing touch to her makeup: a glittery peach lip gloss. ”But this is utterly ridiculous. You're eighteen! You should have the freedom to go wherever you want to. You’ll have wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

Adrien couldn't help the small huff of amusement falling past his lips. He took a deep breath in order to calm down. The last thing he needed was to be akumatized before the charity gala he was attending even began. At least Chloe — whom he considered his sister — would be attending as well.

“I have the perfect solution!” Chloe wiped out her phone, typing furiously until she reached the homepage of Versace’s online shop. “Retail therapy helps wonder. Care to put a dent in daddy dearest’s fortune?” She turned to face Adrien a grin on her face, the skirt of her haute couture dress swirling in a flurry of sequined organza.

“You know he doesn't care about my shopping sprees, Chlo. I wouldn't have a climbing wall in my bed room if he did.” Adrien sighed suddenly deflated and laid his cheek atop of Mr. Cuddly’s head. He did give the best cuddles.

Chloe’s only answer was an noncommittal hum and joined Adrien’s on the bed. In an uncharacteristic gesture of comfort, she rested her hand on Adrien’s thigh “Do you know what he cares about? Your pretty face.”

“Go on.” He encouraged, cocking one eyebrow up in interest, mood perking up.

“What could make a designer angrier than seeing the face of his brand, his ambassador, publicly endorsing another brand?”

Adrien could have kissed Chloe in sheer gratitude. “Chloe, you're a genius!”

“Yeah, I know. I'm just misunderstood.” she scoffed, one hand twirling a curl of hair framing her face.

—

“We don't have all night! Post it or don't, but make your decision. All this hesitation is ruining my appetite.” Plagg whined. How he could manage to sound so childish yet so disdainful at the same time was beyond Adrien’s understanding. Yet, the kwami had no trouble accomplishing such feat while sitting on Adrien’s shoulders, a slice of Camembert between his paws.

“Thanks for the moral support.” Adrien muttered. So what if he had been sprawled on his bed for the past hour, phone in hands debating whether he should be posting the video or not. To be petty, or not to be? That was the question. An existential question, one might add, as his finger hovered the share button on his screen. Teeth worrying his bottom lip. Should he really listen to the little devil on his shoulders? Should he even consider his opinion when his brain was still muddled? He had too many cocktails, tonight.

“You’re thinking too loudly.” Plagg complained, words stretching around a yawn. “There!” he hissed, flying over Adrien’s shoulders to press share. “I posted it for you. It’ll teach your old man a lesson.”

“Plagg!!” Adrien whispered, venom lacing his tone. “I can’t believe you did that! Two minutes in the drawer of shame!” He spat, opening the top drawer of his nightstand.

An indignant scoff bubbled out the kwami’s throat. He titled his chin up in defiance as he plopped down on the plush pillows installed in the drawer of shame. “Just so you know, I’m going there on my own volition. A drawer full of silk pillows is hardly what I call a punishment.” he declared, petulant.

“For someone who is supposed to be offended, you're certainly not eager to delete the video.” Plagg delivered the coup de grace in a disconcerting nonchalance, before eating his slice of cheese. As frustrated as Adrien was with Plagg, he had to admit, the idea had not crossed his mind once.

“I'm deleting it now.” Adrien declared just because he could, yet he made no effort to move.

"Huh huh. Sure you will!" Plagg retorted back. It took Adrien all the force he could muster not to dignify the tiny cat with an answer. He would be the better person.

—

It had taken 8 hours of beauty sleep, for Adrien to wrap his head around the fact that he posted such a video of himself. He almost regretted his decision not to delete it upon waking up. Almost, but his head was pounding and he was never drinking alcohol ever again. After all, he did post, on Instagram, a 1:06 minutes long video of himself — two dry martinis away from drunkenness — singing along, no, belting along the lyrics ”Versace On the Floor” by Bruno Mars featuring Chloe’s judging looks, just to get back at his father. And yet, Adrien couldn't fight the feeling of satisfaction surging through his body when he noticed that #Versace was trending on all social media.

The video going viral in a matter of hours? Expected. Fans sliding into his DMs?Anticipated. Nino freaking out over texts? Typical.

What he hadn't counted on, however, was his video being broadcast on TV. Adrien watched with stupor as a journalist reported — with supporting images — how crowds of fan girls were waiting in queues outside of Versace’s boutiques to buy a dress. “Versace sales skyrocket after model video goes viral” read the words in bold yellow letters. He chocked on his eggs Benedict, eyes watering as he forced the food down his throat.

“Oh, I’m was screwed. Father is going to kill me.” Adrien whispered to himself, voice barely audible over Plagg’s laughter.

—

”Dude you decided to kill the internet overnight? Were you drunk? Are you sure your old man isn’t going to kill you? You were on the news! The news, bro! -- every girl been gush-- ”

Adrien was trying to pay attention to Nino, he really was, but his attention was otherwise diverted by Marinette and Alya’s conversation.

"He looked like an angel, so handsome. The disheveled look with the undone bow tie, and open dress shirt.” Marinette sighed. Adrien could hear the smile in her voice.

”Yeah, I know...” Alya interrupted, somewhat amused. ”-- He looked so good in his suit. His pant hugged his ass so perfectly. You've been gushing about him for two days, Marinette, two days.” Adrien knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but who was Marinette talking about? Not that he cared, really. It was none of his business who Marinette was crushing on. She was just a friend. But why did he felt a sudden pang in his chest at the thought that a boy had caught his friend’s attention. ”I get it! Sunshine was stunning in that video.”

Wait. Hold on. What?!

If sunshine was Adrien and Adrien was sunshine, did it mean Marinette had been talking about him? The Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Beautiful, creative, kind, intelligent Marinette? Marinette who was standing in front of him and currently paying for her caramel macchiato with a dash of cinnamon? That couldn’t be possible.

Adrien.exe had stopped running. The epiphany short-circuited his brain. His eyes widened ever so slightly as the information finally sank in. His heart squeezed, then skipped a beat. And —

His train of thoughts came to a skidding halt.

"Dude, it's rude to stare at Marinette's butt like that.” Nino whispered in his ears and despite the fried synapses in his brain, Adrien still had the presence of mind to let out a noncommittal hum as an answer. Then, Nino’s words registered. A second too late if the knowing smile tugging at the corners of Nino’s lips was any indication. Blood rushed to his cheeks, tinting them a soft pink.

"You're totally blushing too! Are those thoughts appropriate?"

"I- I - I wasn't checking her out! ” Adrien stammered. Head shaking in disapproval. ”Marinette’s just... a friend. Yeah, a friend!” He forced the words out of his mouth in a breathless pant. ”Is she really though?” A treacherous part of mind wondered. Adrien didn't have to be a psychic to know — from the smug look on his best friend’s face — that Nino was about to ask the same question.

”Oh shut up, Nino.” He mumbled, words devoid of any real vehemence. He was definitely not checking out Marinette’s butt. Not that Marinette’s butt wasn’t worthy of being checked out. She had a nice butt, and the way her skin tight jeans were hugging her in all the right places, leaving almost little to the imagination...Her legs, her toned, long, legs that seemed to go on for miles... Marinette was just perfect... From a perfectly platonic friend’s point of view, of course. It was just a friendly observation. Those were cute jeans, as a model he was bound to notice them.

”You're still doing it.” Nino teased a second time, in his ears. The look Adrien threw his way was cold enough to freeze over the arctic ocean. Global warning solved with just one look.

A few minutes later, when the four of them were walking to their usual table in the coffee shop, drinks in hands. When Alya asked him “what’s got you so flustered, Sunshine? After the hip trusts in that video, it be must be quite something if it impresses you, huh? Adrien knew he was never getting out of this alive. He was royally screwed.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #adrinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #chat noir #ladybug #plagg #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #chloe bourgeois #Moon writes

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seijch · 3 years

Text

ANNOUNCEMENT: NOT A HELLO, BUT NOT A GOODBYE EITHER

omg hi ... im like . ashamed to come back after saying brief hiatus in october and then disappearing off the face of the earth til FEBRUARY but under the cut i will be explaining myself and the following, if youre interested (and a tl;dr at the very bottom if you don’t wanna scroll thru this obnoxiously long post):

the reason(s) i was gone for so long

what i was doing during that time (its just a personal account yall can scroll past this idrc)

the status of those um . halloween requests

the future of this account

i. so . Hiatus .

i know. i know . i probably mentioned it when i made the announcement post, but my mental health likes to go on one of those rides. yknow the ones where you go like up rlly fast then down maybe and then up then DOWN .... its like that. i needed a break and every time i wanted to come back or thought about it, something would happen and i would get stuck in my own head.

a big reason for getting stuck in my head was (and i hate to admit this ... i hate to admit that i have Insecurities On The Internet) my feelings of inadequacy regarding my writing. i love to plot fics, i love concepts and characters and making little headcanons but i dont ... know if i love writing rn. and i thought for the longest time that like . whatever ill just push thru it its fine ill be fine but it kinda wasnt lmao you can kinda see it in my halloween reqs and what become of them when i get to that but i began to feel like nothing i had put out or would put out would hold up prose wise (and normally i dont feel like this im much more “idc its my life im living it” but thats not a rant for tumblr LMAO). i still feel like that -- like im better as a reader than a writer. but . You Know :-)

tl;dr: mental state go brrrrr

ii. anywhere here’s wonderwall

when i left, i was in a steadily decreasing mental and emotional state, made worse by a situation at work that really was a case of petty jealousy on my end and rlly isnt very consequential now despite how much pain and resentment it gave me when it Was a problem so i wont get into it. the tl;dr of november and december was me using work as an crutch and distraction -- i know my job, i do it well, it helped me not think about my responsibilities and obligations and inadequacies. of course, as the holiday season grew busier n busier i was scheduled so often that i moved 88 or so miles (according to my apple watch, which i ONLY wear at work since im never anywhere else outside my house) and fell into a cycle of showering n sleeping at my house before going back the next day. (theres definitely something to be said abt capitalism and “grind culture” here but once again its not the time or place snsjkdfds)

at the turn of the new year, i happened to remember a birthday card i hadnt filed away for safekeeping from a friend of mine that id been horribly out of touch with til that point. i started crying because i realized how out of touch id been in general up until that point. the month of january was great for me: i was focused, happy, and in a much better place than i had been before. the end of it brought me down focus wise and im hoping that enough time away from my distractions will refocus me bc i ... need it LMAO and though ive burned out from that level of productivity and gotten distracted again im ... trying to stay positive which i think is the most i can do 😁👍🏼

media wise, i got real into stardew valley (but burned out bc i played it extensively as a way to wind down after work), the pokemon platinum romhack renegade platinum (still havent finished it bc of school n i played it w the intent to see if i could nuzlocke it ... bitch its so hard but its so fun bc of it), briefly assassins creed: odyssey (im one of those ppl who completes an entire region before i move to the next so you can tell i burned out of that one + wouldnt have the time to properly devote to it even if i didnt), got back into genshin impact after pulling for xiao (after not touching it for like . months), and danganronpa. yes . danganronpa 😐 i Know. i stopped playing it after the second trial of the first game bc i was so hurt by the outcome and picked it up in late january only to get sucked in (thank god i had the foresight to buy the second and third games during the steam winter sale). rn im at the start of chapter 4 if anyone wants to come in my asks and um . talk to me abt danganronpa

tl;dr: I’m Into Danganronpa Now

iii. you realize halloween was three months ago right

i mentioned this in the first section, but i love to plot things. every request is plotted or at least has a solid foundation. i had fun detailing what concept i wanted to go with considering what i was given, and there were some bangers i might touch up in the future. but heres whats going to happen to the requests themselves:

there are two finished requests. one will be posted tomorrow and the other will be touched up (just bc i finished it doesnt mean its good 🧍‍♂️) and scheduled for next saturday. as for the ones i never got around to ...

i will not be finishing those requests. i hate to be That Person, but i feel like we all expected this 🧍‍♂️ what i will do is post all of my notes for each request in batches -- requests that have an @ to go with them will be mentioned in the post proper, but anon asks will be pictured. (there are some asks that came from blogs who are now deactivated but i wrote down all the prompts and remember most of those askers so ill cross that bridge when i get there) there will most likely be an excerpt or two simply bc i think i mightve written a few plot points or interactions in the form of bullet points. i rlly am sorry about doing this but i remember looking at my notion doc with all the prompts and feeling ... like i wasnt measuring up n it wasnt just to myself or to some intangible concept of “other” id constructed but it was instead to those who requested n actually WANTED to see and hear and read my writing and i ...... im gonna admit thats another big reason i avoided this site.

regardless, youll definitely get what i have (and likely more than just my bullet points and illegible handwriting).

tl;dr: im sorry. what i have in terms of plot, concept, and interaction for every request will be posted, but i cant say ill ever complete them and mean it.

iv. so what now?

well i mean . im not entirely sure how sold i am on haikyuu in the content creation department (as a creator n to a lesser extent, as a consumer). as mentioned previously, its no longer my primary focus. it doesnt mean im not into haikyuu anymore; i have a lot of love for those boys but i cant rlly say im even caught up w recent fandom activity and also havent even finished s4 pt2 LMAO thats on my to do list

and despite all that, i still want to share my plots n concepts and snippets and maybe even fics. it wont happen anytime soon. it might not even happen. but i mean . its better than me saying i wont write ever again shjdkfs but either way ill probably use this blog as a personal blog w the occasional ask game for dialogue prompts (those are always so fun i love making up aus to fit like . the most mundane prompts)

as for my works (past and any potential future), ive opened an ao3 acc here n ill be editing n possibly expanding on my old works to post there. tumblr, to me, is The x reader hub, but i figure more x reader fics on ao3 is never a bad thing.

ill be deleting/posting drafted posts to the queue since they were all meant to be queued anyway as well as (sorry again 🧍‍♂️) deleting or answering asks in the inbox. (moots if you get a notif from me saying i rbed your post from months ago ... mind your business) im very hard to get ahold of and its ... a problem. expect an overhaul of the nav n shit to reflect my new direction n also because i feel like i cant tell if my passion for carrd is shared by the majority HSDKLFS maybe its better to read my info in a normal post ykwim .......

and of course . if youve read all this n decided im no longer worth the follow, i sure as hell cant stop you. thank you for wanting to, at some point, hear what i have to say -- it means more than you think.

tl;dr: writing will be edited and reposted to ao3, this blog will be a personal blog with a hint of writing (sometimes)

the tl;dr to end all tl;drs:

im back! i wont be as active as i used to due to a lessened interest in haikyuu in general, but i have an ao3 acc now where all my past work will be edited, possibly expanded, and reposted. any future work will also find itself there. my halloween requests will be posted in batches as incomplete concepts, plots, and snippets of scenes; i wont be promising to finish any of them.

there are still fic concepts im attached to and want to finish, but i cant promise any more writing on my end. this blog will be a personal blog with maybe writing, not a writing blog with my personal thoughts all over it.

regardless if you stick around or not, its been crazy sexy cool (equal emphasis) being on haikyuu tumblr even tho i wasnt around for long ... even tho its not my main focus anymore, im still excited to see what the future might hold 🤝

love, ari 💌

#did i have an announcement tag #announcement #also regarding work hsjkdfsd the company i work for didnt give my location the opening for the full time position i wanted #my managers all agree id be promoted if we had it but we dont so i . hee .#anyway um i hope everyones doing well #some of my moots changed urls while i was away and now i have no idea who anyone is #its like when you see your familys friends and theyre like omg youre so big now! i remember when you were a baby and youre like 🧍‍♂️#and you have to play along bc apparently they remember you hskdfsd #im not very funny in this post but i figured id rather be honest considering my lengthy absence #consider this my comeback stage

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chenziee · 4 years

Text

Swipe left, please

[Read on my AO3 (link in blog description) or by copypasting link below, or under the cut]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932909

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin Ship: Jean/Armin Rating: General audiences Words: 2643 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Airports, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Minor Levi/Eren Yeager, jean is smitten, Because of course he is, Tinder, but not really, jean is a very responsible working adult, armin is a very responsible PhD student, you can interpret those words however you want, hanji is not a responsible lab boss, don't be like hanji in a lab

Summary: Getting stuck at the airport for hours because of the weather was the last thing Jean wanted today, but it was what he got and honestly, if it meant he could chat with this cute guy who swept a hard 'no' on Jean's Tinder for longer, he wouldn't say no to a few more hours.

Based on a twitter post which I don’t know how to dig up.

----------

This is a birthday gift for the sweetest, most precious @roxi4 <3 I’ve said this a lot of times but I love you so much and I wish I could personally beat 2021 into submission so that it’s the best goddamn year of your life for you. But, sadly, I’m not a god yet so I gotta settle for writing fics for now.

Also yes, I am posting here like two weeks late because I’m lazy I’m sorry.

----------

Jean glared at the departure board, wishing he could set it on fire just like that. He understood things like this happened; he could see the heavy rain and wind outside—and people called this spring? Jean demanded a refund—so really, it could have been much worse, but a three hour delay for his three hours and thirty-five goddamned minutes flight was absolutely ridiculous and only slightly rage inducing.

He sighed in frustration and, grabbing his suitcase, he turned away to head to the closest coffee shop. He needed a damn coffee. Preferably spiked or with 8 shots of espresso, he’d decide in the line.

This was seriously so stupid. He had spent an entire week on this business trip and he was tired and the only thing he wanted was getting home to his cat and passing the hell out. At least the Melbourne airport was decent enough and he could safely be bored out of his mind with as much coffee as he needed without worrying he’d catch tetanus like he was at a certain American airport a few years ago. He would take his comfort where he could at this point.

Finally, he managed to order his coffee with only two extra espresso shots—he didn’t want to seem like that much of a psycho but the barista didn't even blink at his order and Jean had to wonder what weird shit the people at a busy airport had to deal with—and headed to the corner of the departure hall that seemed the quietest. There were only a few people loitering around there, all looking just as exhausted as Jean felt. Seemed like Jean would fit right in with their collective coma.

Making his way to one of the empty seats, Jean had to weave his way through the maze of suitcases until one of them caught his attention. Or, more specifically, the book laying carefully bookmarked and discarded on it. Who in their right mind read what looked like an entire fucking encyclopaedia full of words Jean probably couldn't even pronounce while waiting on their plane? No wonder the owner put it aside eventually.

Jean inadvertently looked up at the person sitting next to the suitcase and he did a double take. He had expected some old fart, the type that just screamed of a dreadfully boring college professor who preferred his test tubes or calculations to his students—or people in general, really—not this… tiny, adorable, small animal type of guy who, from his profile, looked around Jean’s age or even younger.

He took in the young man’s small frame, the short, blond hair, and the way he sat cross legged on the hard, uncomfortable airport chair and Jean couldn’t get over how cute the sight was. He was really glad the other man was so engrossed in his phone because even Jean could tell he was staring .

And then something else caught Jean’s eye.

Was that Tinder on his phone? Was that… Jean’s ancient Tinder he was looking at?

Jean felt heat coming up to his face. He hadn’t used the stupid app in years, probably since like... his second year of college. He didn’t even know why he didn’t delete his profile but now he was glad he didn’t because it would be really nice to know if he should even bother trying to strike up conversation here.

With bated breath, Jean waited for the verdict. He watched as if in slow motion as the blond’s thumb moved to touch the screen and swiped—

Left.

Of course it was left.

Unable to stop himself, an awkward laugh forced its way past his lips and he heard himself say, “Hard no for him?”

Even the way he jumped at Jean’s words was cute. And when wide, impossibly blue eyes met his own, Jean felt his stomach drop. Damn, this left swipe really hurt. Jean really had a talent for getting his heart broken before he even had the chance to try. First Mikasa, now this. Did someone up there have something against him?

A few silent, painfully awkward seconds of the two of them just staring at each other passed, until the blond opened his mouth to speak, “If it makes you feel any better, your profile pic really doesn’t do you any favours.”

Jean groaned. Of course. He knew he shouldn’t have let Eren choose his picture, the absolute asshole. He couldn’t believe he still called this guy a friend. Getting roomed with him at the dorm in college was seriously the worst thing to happen in his life.

“Thanks, I guess,” Jean said lamely, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head. Could this get any more awkward?

The other guy laughed then, and it was the sweetest laugh Jean had ever heard. “You’re welcome,” he said, smirning at Jean as he held out his hand. “I’m Armin. Jean, right?”

Jean shook Armin’s hand, almost asking where he had learned his name but managing to stop himself at the last second. They literally just talked about Jean’s embarrassing Tinder profile for God’s sake.

“Nice to meet you,” he said instead, hoping that was a better way to go about it than making a bigger idiot out of himself.

Thankfully, it seemed like it was, as Armin gestured to the empty seat next to him and Jean gratefully took it, making himself as comfortable as he could in the stupid airport chair. Seriously, why were airport chairs always so uncomfortable? People were sitting on these for hours at a time every day, one would think someone would make sure their asses were not hurting. Although, now that he thought about it, cushioned chairs probably wouldn’t last very long—or stay reasonably sanitary, for that matter. It was probably a good thing his ass hurt already.

Jean took his first, long-overdue sip of his coffee before he gestured towards Armin’s suitcase. “Interesting book you’ve got there. Wanted a bit of light reading?”

Armin paused, looking at Jean as if he was trying to figure him out. “Please tell me that was an intentional Harry Potter reference,” he said after a moment. Oh, Jean was so happy he had caught that.

“Maybe,” he only replied, hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup.

Huffing in amusement, Armin glanced at his terrifying looking book instead. “Just trying to do some research for my final thesis. But I have to admit some people really can’t write in an interesting way even when talking about interesting topics.”

“Hear, hear,” Jean muttered. “Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to publish books, especially if they then make people study from those.” He still remembered the pain from school. He particularly enjoyed the teachers who required the students read their own God-awful books. It was always a guarantee for the most boring read of the year.

“I know!” Armin cried, gesturing around in frustration and Jean couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I can’t wait to finish my Ph.D. so I that can not read the things I don’t want to.”

Jean chuckled at his enthusiasm. He really had to love his field of study to get this passionate about shitty books. “What are you studying?” he asked curiously.

“Marine biology,” Armin beamed, making Jean gulp.

Ocean. Fish. Corals. That was about as much as his humble business management brain knew about marine biology. Couldn’t really impress with that, could he? “And you’re doing a PhD. in that?”

Armin nodded. “Yeah. Actually, I’m just coming back home from giving a guest lecture at the university."

"Melbourne university?" Jean asked, raising a brow. He kind of hoped he was wrong and he wasn't just casually chatting with some up and coming scientist celebrity.

"Yeah," Arming confirmed and blushed slightly.

"Damn, that's impressive," Jean admitted, though now he was positive that if Armin started talking science to him, he wouldn't understand a word.

Armin's eyes dropped as he looked away, obviously embarrassed by the praise, then he shrugged and quietly replied, "Not really. This stuff is really easy when you have good teachers."

Jean shook his head. "Nah, if you don't have it in you, it doesn't matter how good a teacher is. You can kiss any degree goodbye then, never mind giving lectures."

He heard Armin huff in amusement and goddamn it, it gave him butterflies. He was so fucked.

"Thank you," the blond said, smiling at Jean brightly before he continued. "How about you? Where to?"

Jean sighed wearily, sagging in his seat as he remembered his exhaustion. "Also home. On my way back from an absolutely stupid business trip."

"Why stupid?" Armin asked as he turned around in his seat to face Jean properly.

Jean mirrored him immediately, hooking one arm behind the backrest as he leaned on the chair sideways. He really enjoyed talking to this random, sweet stranger and he was really glad it seemed to be mutual. He was going to hate saying goodbye.

Suddenly, he wouldn't have minded if his flight got delayed a few more hours.

"Just, you know, people," Jean muttered in distaste. "One would think only customers can be complete idiots. Turns out coworkers can sometimes be even worse."

Armin laughed at his words, nodding along enthusiastically. "God I know. Sometimes I want to kill the doctor leading my lab. Hanji’s a genius but there is so much energy and she can be so stupid. She almost blows up or floods the lab at least once a week."

"I'm sorry, that must be so hard to deal with—" Jean cringed in sympathy at the mere idea of it— "Reminds me of my team. I love them but once in a while, I just want to fire them all when they start organizing paper boat races in the bathroom. Paper boats made from paperwork they don't want to do, by the way."

"Ouch." Armin sounded solemn but Jean could hear the hidden laughter and he just knew he found Sasha and Connie's stupid ideas hilarious. Which… Jean could admit they were, just not when he was the one who then had to explain the mess and unfinished work to his boss.

“Stop laughing,” Jean hissed, though with no real venom in his voice.

“I’m not!” Armin defended himself, but then burst out laughing when Jean glared at him so he quickly corrected himself, “Okay, yeah, I am. Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all and Jean sighed. “Everyone always finds my suffering funny.”

Armin let him grumble to himself for a bit, the two of them sitting in relative silence for a moment and… it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually relaxing and Jean really didn’t want this to end. “So hey—” He paused, glancing at Armin carefully, almost afraid to ask— “when is your flight?”

“Hopefully, in like two and a half hours. Got delayed almost as long as the flight itself.”

Jean almost said it was the same for him but he stopped. Could it be…? “You’re not flying to Auckland, are you?”

Armin visibly startled, blinking at Jean with eyes full of surprise. “Yes, actually,” he said slowly and Jean couldn’t believe it. He had thought he would never see this this cute, fun person ever again but—

“Me, too,” he said quietly and the two of them continued staring at each other in shock for a few moments more until they both burst out laughing.

Incredible. They were both flying to the same place and they would be within reach of each other and maybe there was a point in actually pursuing this. “So, uhm, wanna grab a coffee?” Jean asked awkwardly, pointing in the general direction of the food court.

And only when Armin looked pointedly at his pointing hand, did Jean realize he was still holding his over-caffeinated coffee cup. He really hoped his face wasn’t as on fire as it felt.

Armin only chuckled, thankfully not commenting on Jean’s blunder, and rather suggesting, “How about some actual food instead?”

-------------

By the time they got off the plane in Auckland, Jean was on cloud nine as he gently squeezed Armin’s hand in his. Jean was still not sure this was real; they had spent the entire time at the airport and during their flight chatting—not that they had miraculously had seats next to each other like in the movies, but Jean did bribe an older lady with wine to switch seats with him—and it was the best damn flight delay he could have asked for.

It felt so natural and easy being with Armin, he couldn’t wait to get to know him more during their date tomorrow, and hopefully many more after. Because Jean would be lying if he said he wasn’t completely gone for this charming, adorable genius already.

As they walked through the exit into the arrival hall together, Armin immediately waved at his friend who was picking him up. Jean had offered to give him a ride since he had his car parked at the airport but Armin had said this friend of his would be worried if he just suddenly cancelled and—

Oh hell no.

Jean stared at the tall, young man with long hair tied up in a messy bun who was walking towards them, watching as his wide smile froze when their eyes met. Of fucking course. Jean just couldn’t have any nice things in life, could he?

“Unhand my best friend, Horse Face,” Eren growled and Jean took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.

It didn’t work. “Unhand my boss, then,” he shot back, throwing a pointed stare at where Eren had his arm wrapped around the short, grumpy man who just so happened to be both Jean’s boss and his ex-roommate’s boyfriend. Levi was already sighing and rolling his eyes at them and Jean really hoped this wouldn’t affect his bonus this quarter.

But Eren started it.

“You have no say in that,” Eren hissed, visibly bristling as his hold on Levi only tightened.

“Oh, so you admit it’s unreasonable?” Jean asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Jean could hear Armin gasp as he finally realized what was going on. Obviously, he also didn’t expect this to happen and Jean was glad he wasn’t the only one. Although, really, how did it not occur to Jean that Armin was that Armin? It wasn’t exactly a common name around Auckland…

Just as Eren was getting ready to snap back at him, both Levi and Armin sighed before Levi intervened, “Shut the hell up, both of you. Have this fight when I’m not around for it or I’m talking Armin and leaving your asses here.”

“I second this movement,” Armin said firmly tugging at Jean’s hand for good measure.

Both Eren and Jean closed their mouths then, both knowing full well that was not an empty threat coming from the short grump. Not that Jean wouldn’t get back by himself but he would be stuck with driving Eren, too, without anyone there to mediate, and that would be a disaster.

They glared at each other silently for a second, until Eren hissed at him, “Usual bar, tonight. We’re having a talk.”

“I’ll be there, I need a fucking drink after this,” Jean muttered back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Giving Armin a kiss on the cheek, Jean quickly retreated out of Eren’s glare’s range and towards his car so that he could get some fucking sleep before he would go out and get drunk while Eren threatened him with violence for apparently seducing his best friend, or whatever Eren would take out of this… situation. How did shit like this even happen in real life? He seriously wondered what he did in his past life to get karma like this.

At least Armin was worth it.

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silentauroriamthereal · 3 years

Text

Author interview tag

I was tagged by @therealsaintscully! Thanks, you! :)

Name: SilentAuror

Fandoms: Just Sherlock, though I also follow some Old Guard blogs. :)

Where you post: AO3. Though I was almost knocked over the other day when I got a comment on an old HP fic over on skyehawke.com! It’s been literal YEARS since I got a review on anything over there! :P

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Against the Rest of the World for sure. :)

Favourite story you’ve written so far: With 87 posted fics and 2 more currently on the go, I can’t possibly answer that. That’s cruel. Lol.

Fic you were nervous to post: This, on the other hand, is easy, haha! Three stories, all for very different reasons:

1. The A.G.R.A Complex. This was my first Freebatch fic and I thought I might well be burnt at the stake for even writing any RPF. The notion for this story caught my muses’ attention, though, and they eventually forced me to write it against my will. I can’t be held responsible. Lol. It still amazes me that people continue to read it to this day. The notion: Martin and Benedict are friends. There’s a car accident and Martin suffers a fairly mild brain injury. While in his coma, dreams the entire first three seasons of Sherlock, which in this universe, haven’t happened. The nature of the brain injury is such that he keeps shifting mentally between the reality of who he and Benedict (and Amanda) are, and seeing himself and everyone else as their characters in the Sherlock universe. When I posted it, I intended it to be left up to the reader whether to see it as kind of an AU to actual reality, or else a prequel to the filming of Sherlock. When I finally decided to write a sequel, it meant that I had to be the one to make that clear, which made it a prequel. It became a three-part series, with the second part set during and just after the filming of series 3 (the dodgiest in the moral sense, since it dances around and into real life events), and then the third story takes place ten years later.

2. The Final Proof. Why? Easy. Major character death, and it’s Sherlock. That’s clear from about the first sentence, I think. I had written At the Heart of it All, which features Sherlock running an experiment using the hearts of people who lived lives where they had loved and been loved, and people who hadn’t in an effort to prove his own ability to love to John. He says something at the end of that story about wishing he could see his own heart at the end of their life to see which of the hearts his own resembled by then. And then my muses, my terrible, terrible muses said, “hey... you could write that: you know: Sherlock at the very end of his life, making John promise to look at his heart after he’s died, and complete his experiment.” I, like, teared up just at the thought, and honestly, I cried for most of the writing of that story. I’m assured that about 99% of the people who have read it have also cried throughout, so... sorry. Yeah.

3. Scars. Why? Easy, again: the entire story is riddled with gaslighting and other types of emotional abuse and mind-fuckery, and an actual rape scene. It was painful to the point of being interally corrosive to write, but I still felt it was a story I needed to tell. I did my homework on this one, consulted multiple therapists who work specifically in the field of men who have been absued (emotionally, physically, sexually) by female partners. I thought no one would read it. I thought I might lose half my followers on tumblr. But I still wrote it. It still amazes me that people read it, even more when they actually like it, and still like me after. Lol.

How you choose your titles: Hmm... each title genesis is different, I would say! Sometimes it’s a general theme of the story, sometimes it’s a specific concept or single word, occasionally (but not often) it’s a song title. Sometimes it’s another language, particularly Latin. In The A.G.R.A Complex, the title of the story is also the name that the neurologists given to the brain injury Martin experiences. Vena Cava is titled for the name of the vein that Mary’s bullet punctured in Sherlock’s heart, based on a medical analysis I had read. Scars takes its theme from both Sherlock’s external scars from what he went through during his time away, and John’s internal scars from Mary’s emotional abuse. I also have a whole series of (unrelated) flower-themed stories: The Green Carnations comes from ACD era coding for homosexuality. The Yellow Poppies is the story I wrote after the deleted scene about Magnussen’s hospital visit came out, which features both he and Mary as dual villains, and yellow poppies placed in Sherlock’s room as a threat from one or the other of them. The White Lotuses has a leitmotif of Hinduism and slow-blooming self-awareness and romance. The Red Roses is a Molly POV where she helps Sherlock and John get together in spite of her own feelings, and The Wisteria Tree is an amnesia story that has Sherlock forget the past six years of his life, including the five years that he’s been married to John, and how they find their way back together in spite of that. Rosa Felicia - bonus, both a flower name AND Latin, lol! - is a coming-of-age story about Rosie at the age of 19. Where My Demons Hide is a mid-series 4 story that I wrote after The Lying Detective aired, but before The Final Problem did, and is the title of an Imagine Dragons song. Pater Noster is Latin for the title of the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, but also quite literally just means “our father”, and is a story that centres around the events surrounding the death (murder) of John and Harry’s father. You get the gist.

Do you outline: I always say that one should know how a story begins, how it ends, and at least a few of the major points between those two events. So yes, but loosely. I think that over-plotting kills creativity. It’s not an essay. But even essays need space to grow.

Complete: 105 stories back in my skyehawke days, the vast majority of which are HP, totalling in about 1.5 million words. 87 stories in the Sherlock fandom (though those include my 4 Freebatch fics), totalling in over 2.3 million words now.

In progress: I have two stories currently pending: a Christmas story called The Secret of Hazel Grange, and a trauma-based, co-sleeping fic called Nocturne.

Coming soon/not yet started: I never comment about fics I haven’t yet started. Might curse the entire process, lol.

Do you accept prompts: No, alas. Neither prompts nor commissions. While I’m constantly desperately poor, it takes something out of the writing process for me once it becomes a job. I just feel like that’s not what fanfic is about for me. No judgement to anyone else who does write for commissions, whatsoever - we all have our own process! For me, I’m happy (make that incredibly grateful!) to have donations or supporters through my Patreon (eep: x), but writing to order just doesn’t quite jive for me. I also don’t take prompts, not because I don’t want them, but because I have such a huge backlog of my own ideas that I’ll never get to as it is. There will never be enough time to write all the fics I want to write! That said, don’t think that you can’t still suggest your ideas. My “official policy” (lol) is that I don’t take prompts (for the aforementioned backlog reason), but that doesn’t mean that if you do send me one, my muses won’t seize upon it and force me to write it. You never know. I certainly don’t, at least. :P

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: I’m super excited by the notion of actually getting my Christmas fic finished by Christmas. Lol. Here’s hoping!!

Tagging: Anyone who reads this and is a writer, or thinking about becoming one. You’ve been tagged!

#writer stuff #memes and things #sherlock #johnlock #silentauror

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simp-for-spencer-reid · 3 years

Text

Favors- George Weasley fic

I may delete this from this blog bc it’s my criminal minds blog. but for now, here’s my latest writing idea if anyone’s interested :)

the title of the fic and the chapter title are a work in progress and subject to change

Chapter 1: Be My Alibi

A puff of smoke swirled around the library common area. Essie was shifting her focus between her Care of Magical Creatures essay and her upcoming Potions exam. Her eyes were growing heavy as she read her Advanced Potion Making textbook. A few groups of students who were also in the library had gotten up and made their way to the hallway. Essie briefly glanced at the commotion, but brought her attention back to her work. Two snickering red-haired boys were calmly following the crowd.

The Weasley twins.

Their reputation preceded them: notorious for their pranks they’d been pulling since the end of their second year. Before that, they had received some of the top grades in Gryffindor house. Now, just beginning their sixth year at Hogwarts, their main focus was on their pranks.

One of them had accidentally knocked into Essie’s table, sending her ink for her quill toppling over, a stream of black trickling over her hard work.

The laughter between them came to a halt- one kept walking, he hadn’t bumped her table and was oblivious to the ink. The other; however, paused, noticing the Hufflepuff girl gaping over her destroyed essay.

“Oh, sorry!” He muttered a quick incantation to soak up the excess ink, but it left the words that had been written before a bit faded. Essie gave him a shy smile, before gathering her work. It would probably do her better to finish up in her common room, less commotion and a certain pair of twins wouldn’t be up to their tricks.

“It’s okay, thanks for clearing that up,” Essie turned on her heel and hauled out of the library towards the kitchens.

“Wait! Let me make it up to you,” he had a grip on her upper arm, keeping her in place, yet it was still gentle. His twin was long gone down the hall now, not noticing yet that his other half was not following him.

“Oh, erm, don’t worry about it. I can fix the rest,” Essie shook her head, tucking a loose strand of her golden hair behind her ear.

“Please, I owe you one. It’s the least I could do.” He realized his hand was still on her arm and dropped it back to his side- then shoving it in the pockets of his pants. “Just think about it.” he shrugged.

“Uh, okay.” Essie agreed, wanting this interaction to end so she could finish her studying in her room. She turned away from him, walking as fast as she could back to her dorms.

Just as she had gotten out of the grasp of one of the Weasley twins, Gabriel Truman- a fellow Hufflepuff and Head Boy, was coming into step beside her. She was trapped between the wall and Gabriel as they walked toward the Hufflepuff common room.

“Hey,” he started cooly, “Bit late for you out here isn’t it?” Gabriel asked, but it was more of a statement.

“Gabriel,” Essie said dryly, “I could say the same about you.” Gabriel had been trying to convince her to go on a date since the start of their fifth year. Essie, didn’t have time for dating. She was busy with her studies and trying to get the best grades possible to set herself up for a promising future as a magical creature professional. She had a lot of pressure on her shoulders now that she had made Prefect her sixth year..

The magic in Essie’s family had skipped a generation. Her mother was a squib who married a muggle man, much to the disdain of Essie’s maternal grandmother. Her grandmother was famous Wizarding author, Dria Finkle. Dria was known for her stories of her travels- voyaging across Europe and writing about her affairs with politicians and diplomats and other famous wizard-folk.

Essie kept her grades up to make her parents proud. Her father wasn’t sure about the whole wizard thing, but Essie sweet-talked him into allowing her to board at Hogwarts and showing him that magic wasn’t as unbelievable as it sounds.

“What do you say: you, me, and a couple of butterbeers down at the Three Brooksticks next Hogsmeade weekend?” Gabriel put an arm out to stop her in her tracks, caging her in between his body and the stone wall.

“Tempting, but I already have plans,” she moved to escape under his arm, but he shifted his arm down, blocking her.

“Oh, yeah? Doing what?” He tested her.

“I’m working on the Care of Magical Creatures essay.” she raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, and pushed her way through his arm to continue walking.

“That’s not due until the end of the year!” Gabriel called after her. She was thankful for his temporary defeat as he had stopped following her.

Essie shook her head,now just wanting to retreat under the covers of her bed. She made her way down a flight of stairs to the basement. The smell of comfort food and the warmth of the ovens getting stronger as she got closer to the entrance of the basement. She stopped by a stack of wooden barrels, tapping the correct one to reveal the circular door to the common room.

Copper lanterns provided a dim light, the main light source coming from the fireplace now that it was nightfall. Many plants hung from the ceilings or sat on shelves. Essie’s favorite plant was some sort of ivy whose tendrils swayed in its own dance and it whispered if you listened closely. It hung from a basket made of twine over one of the desks, and Essie talked to it sometimes while she did homework.

A few students were gathered in the common room, and Essie politely informed them of curfew and that they needed to get to their dormitories. With some groans and sighs, they cleared out.

Essie walked through the door that led to the dorm for the Prefects. She shared the room with the two other Hufflepuff Prefect girls, Cleo and Gwen. They were already in bed, as Essie could tell from Gwen’s snoring. Through the light of the lanterns, Essie placed her study materials on her designated nightstand and quickly changed into some sleep shorts and a tank top. Once she was nestled under her covers, Essie quickly fell asleep.

This year at Hogwarts, the castle was hosting the Triwizard Tournament, as Professor Dumbledore had announced at the first feast. Hogwarts students were accompanied by two other schools: Durmstrang and Beauxbaton. Only students who were 17 could participate. In this dangerous tournament.

They were given a night for students to put their name in the goblet of fire. Essie would never partake in something so dangerous, not to mention the attention that came with being chosen. She knew that her friend Cedric had put his name in: tempted by the thousand galleon prize and eternal glory.

The night after Professor Dumbledore’s announcement, Essie was walking the corridors of the castle, thinking of her schoolwork and making a mental to-do list as she took the long way to the Hufflepuff common room past the stairway to the dungeons.

She could hear footsteps coming from ahead of her. Fred and George Weasley were running down the hall. One of them beelined down a smaller branch off the hallway, while the other’s face brightened as he saw Essie. Slowing down, he stepped into place beside her.

“Never caught your name the other night in the library,” he looked over his shoulder, breathing heavily from running down the hall. “I’m George,” he smiled. They rounded a corner.

“Estelle, but you can just call me Essie.” she also looked in the direction where George was glancing. She saw Filch, angrily hobbling after them, yelling about his cat. When Filch caught up to them, he continued his shouting.

“Weasley! I know it was you. You and your brother did that to Mrs. Norris, I just know it!”

“Ah, but you see, Filch, I have been with Essie all evening. It couldn’t have been me that dyed Mrs. Norris pink,” George feigned politeness, going as far to throw an arm over Essie’s shoulders. Filch looked to Essie, and when he saw her Prefect badge upon her school robes, George and Essie could see the battle in his head of whether to trust this story. George lightly elbowed Essie to prompt her to speak.

“Yes, Mr. Filch. George and I were just on our way back from discussing tutoring sessions for Potions class-” George elbowed her again to get her to stop talking.

“You might consider asking my brother Fred about his whereabouts. I believe he went that way,” George pointed back in the direction of where Filch had chased them down.

Ultimately, Filch grumbled about the twins and their mischief and he hobbled off in search of George’s twin.

“You ought to learn to keep your lies short and sweet.” George told Essie, “Easier to keep straight.” She lightly shrugged his arm off as they continued walking in the direction Essie was headed.

“There’s nothing to keep straight if you just told the truth. Pretty soon they have the snowball effect.” Essie rolled her eyes at the ginger boy. Gabriel Truman was walking towards them, looking to strike up another conversation with Essie. She halted in her tracks, and grabbed George’s arm to wrap over her shoulders again.

“What are you-?” George was cut off by Gabriel as he approached.

“Essie, did you give anymore thought to my Hogsmeade preposition?” Gabriel hadn’t noticed George’s arm around her.

“Actually, Gabriel, I can’t.” Essie shrugged, holding onto George’s hand to keep his arm over her. “George has just asked me to be exclusive, so I can’t.” George’s eyebrows shot up when he heard the words come out of Essie’s mouth. The twins were just as famous for their flirtatious mannerisms as they were for their pranks. Gabriel looked between George and Essie suspiciously.

“That’s right, Gabe,” George held Essie closer, sliding his arm from her shoulders to her waist. Essie blushed profusely at the contact. “Essie and I are what you would call a ‘thing’ now.” George’s chest puffed out, proud of his words.

“Well, I didn’t realize you two had been seeing each other.” Gabe said, still wary of the two of them. “Enjoy your night,” he said as he walked off, “Don’t stay out past curfew.” Essie and George watched him walk away, waiting until he was out of eyesight.

“What was that you said? Something about telling the truth?” George mocked a thinking face. Essie scoffed, stepping out of his arm.

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes, “Didn’t you owe me one from ruining my essay?” Essie countered. “Consider us even.” Essie began walking again towards her common room.

“Essie Essie Essie,” George tutted as he watched her walk away. “You don’t know what you started.”

#George weasley #weasley twins #hogwarts fanfic #harry potter fanfic #favors fanfic

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uwua3 · 4 years

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Hello! Sorry to spring another request at you so soon, but those jealousy headcanons you wrote for me have got me hooked! Would it be possible to write a redemption/forgiveness focused "part 2" to those 3 HCs but years later, showing that they've both grown as people and wind up with happy endings together? (And heal my bruised ego, j/k 😆) If you would rather not revisit those stories, I completely understand + will think of something else 😁 TY once more for your immaculate creations 🙌🙏

yes! this will be the pt. 2 set years later from the first jealousy hc~ i know everyone’s a sucker for happy endings so i’ll try my best! aLSO YOU KNOW WHAT’S FUNNY!!! i remember when i got sent this ask and i just wrote immaculate in one of my writings omg!!! we are Connected

summary: time heals and people move on, for better or for worse

author’s note: this was less redemption, but more for forgiveness. sometimes, you can’t forget what someone did but forgive them after becoming changed people. being the bigger person, moving on, and being the best version of yourself is the sweetest revenge possible + taichi’s was the longest, i am the most proud of his!

there are some situations where it’s best to leave a person out of your life if they hurt you more than anything ♡ don’t feel like you are missing a part of yourself without them, you’re more than someone’s s/o; you’re you!

word count: 4,042 (total) — 1,297 (kazunari), 868 (tenma), 1,877 (taichi)

music: i don’t want you back – aj mitchell (kazunari), you could have been the one – coasts (tenma), wish u the best – blackbear (taichi)

jealousy (pt.2)

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

it kept raining, but kazunari refused to let that stop him anymore

kazunari stood drenched for so long but his umbrella was by his side this entire time (he covered himself and watched the stormy clouds part to reveal streams of the sun)

kazunari wanted to love himself first, and then maybe he could come back to loving you

so he attended therapy. learned how to openly commuicate his feelings without constantly seeking attention. made real friends with a theatre company named mankai. found passion in another art form: acting!

kazunari grew as a person, developing into his full identity and he finally knew who he was. kazunari stopped forming unhealthy attachments onto people who showed any form of interest on him and even had a few successful relationships because of his mindset

(all of them ended maturely, respectfully, and without any of the drama being a teen had. it felt nice to be an adult for once)

kazunari was content with his own body, for once. he practiced taking breaks and understood his own limits (not weaknesses, his therapist reminded him, just boundaries). kazunari even started posting online again, making enthusiatic blog posts that were genuine this time

kazunari stopped obsessively checking comments left on his selfies and just deleted any that were negative. but most times, he didn’t even see them because he was proud of how far he came. it could only go up from here

kazunari was happy!

but, you weren’t. you lost your best friend who eventually stopped sending random late–night texts. the one who always had an adventure up his sleeve and always made you laugh. where did he go?

it wasn’t until you spotted an advertisement that had his name in the bottom part of the cast. you didn’t even know kazunari was interested in drama, though he did have the flair for it

(you were too busy with your partner to even come to his water me! debut)

when you attended the summer troupe’s second opening night, you couldn’t recognize the man standing before you on stage

kazunari wasn’t that meek barista who shut down every time he made a mistake. now, when he flubbed the script, he simply did improv and didn’t let his mistake hold him back. he matured to be an accomplished young man with the talent to boot and all the charisma in the world

when kazunari’s sight glanced past you, he barely noticed your presence. he just nodded and spared no more attention towards you, focusing on the play and giving it his all

to you, kazunari was a stranger. to kazunari, you were just somebody he used to have good times with, that’s all

after that, you left and didn’t bother seeking contact with him again besides the occassional congratulations to be civil. he didn’t need you anymore, it was painfully obvious how happy he was now

(much happier than when he was best friends with you)

kazunari didn’t notice and put his energy into becoming someone he was proud of, gaining popularity online for his infectious happiness and wonderful, creative edits

kazunari stopped trying to love himself so you could love him. he did everything for him because he wanted to

after seeing you in the crowd, kazunari accepted you weren’t the same person he became best friends with and that was okay. he had 20 best friends who he shared a house with, what more could he ask for?

(even when he saw your long instagram post about your engagement, he liked it and left a happy comment. there was no jealousy over what could have been, just complimenting the ring without any hard feelings)

kazunari knew he would never see you again, that you were intimidated by his self–love. kazunari wasn’t too sad, just posted a group photo with the caption: “my best friends ✨”

kazunari moved on easily, knowing there was no point to get hung up if you were happy. who was he to get in the way of a happy relationship?

so when you sent him an e–mail asking him to be the best man at your wedding, it didn’t phase him as bad as he thought it would. maybe, just a little surprise. kazunari didn’t hesitate to request practice off and click to confirm his rsvp

(maybe, this could have been his last opportunty to be your best friend)

if it was possible to outdress the couple, he did. kazunari showed up to the wedding in his best suit, gladly chatting up the party

(he knew he looked good, and because of that, he didn’t flinch every time he was mistaken as the groom)

(he didn’t want to be, anyways)

kazunari met up with you in your dressing room, watching you pace as you had pre–marriage jitters. but you looked pretty, beautiful even, but you didn’t look like his bride. that didn’t hurt him, he just smiled and offered his arm

“you ready, best friend?” kazunari asked and the smile on your face reflected his: hollow, but somewhat sad. you both knew you guys weren’t close like before, the same people before. you two were almost unrecognizable, but the love as friends was still there

kazunari couldn’t deny you made his life better at some point, people just change and that was that. he couldn’t fault you for that

he couldn’t blame you for his fear of confessing his feelings, his avoidance of any type of serious relationship. that was on him, and he accepted that a long, long time ago

he was gonna walk the first love of his life down the aisle to another person, and kazunari smiled, knowing this was for the best

kazunari was happy the person you met all those years ago was your soulmate, you deserved that

as the double doors opened, you two gracefully walked down the aisle as he noticed the person at the end was crying tears of joy. they were so in love with you, and you had the same look on your face

kazunari didn’t even react like that, just smiled and gave you a thumbs up

this was definitely for the best

as the room stood for you, you glanced at kazunari and whispered something that had no effect on him whatsoever

“i liked you, before all of this.”

kazunari just looked forward, feeling the rain finally come to an end as a sunny, summer blue sky was shining with puffy white clouds

the rain was gone for good, and 19–year–old kazunari finally had his closure

“i did, too.” kazunari simply said and you didn’t react. it was clear, you both moved on

before giving you away, kazunari smiled, making some joke about being careful with his “daughter”

the room laughed, and he did, too (he meant it)

kazunari was happy for you as he watched you two exchange vows. maybe his past self would’ve selfishly wished that was him, object when the officiant asked, and steal you away

but kazunari knew you were happy

(best man kazunari stood up at the dining banquet to deliver his speech, holding the mic up to his mouth and he shared happy memories between the two of you)

(kazunari almost talked about how gorgeous you looked in golden hour back then, but stopped. that was a memory only his teen self should have, and instead made a toast)

(“for forgiveness, moving on, and best friends!”)

kazunari watched you have your first dance and looked outside. it was golden hour, and you were just as gorgeous as before

but, kazunari didn’t have to be your #1 anymore. because in his heart, he was his own #1, and that would never become a joke

the rain ended, and wouldn’t come back as long as he lived in the sun

🌻☀️ sumeragi tenma

you and tenma were cast in the same movie years after your public break–up

it was an easy job and guarenteed summer blockbuster for best lead actor, tenma

he was entering university now for acting, keeping a clean image as the media slowly forgot about his playboy past as he shifted his efforts to more time with his true friends and being a regular, casual teen

(even previous co–stars admitted his personality did a full 180 and it was refreshing to see the young actor turn over a new leaf)

tenma decided after you, he deserved real love that wasn’t fabricated by a company

he left his label with a rip to the contract, flipped them off with both his fingers, and became an independent star that rose to popularity due to his honest and brash interviews on the industry

he took on projects he loved and tenma’s parents slowly came to respect him as an actor, giving him the freedom to do whatever mattered to him

(tenma even started reclaiming back his missed childhood, lowering the expectations he forced upon himself and letting himself make mistakes. he started trying again and again, refusing to give up for the sake of his team)

tenma expanded his talents to both on screen and stage, and found himself becoming more of a team–player who was confident in his abilities to lead and be taken seriously

mankai taught him love wasn’t just romantic. he received love everyday from his close friends and pushed himself out of his comfort zone to express his feelings and appreciation without feeling uncomfortable

as a result, tenma was loved for who he was, not some idol image

tenma loved himself all because of his love for acting, and knew he wouldn’t have been able to do it if it wasn’t for you, weirdly enough

you were the breaking point. you set off the chain of events that let him take back his own life and pursue real, authentic things. tenma was still a kid at heart, but he grew up

the next time he saw you on set after providing food for the cast to practice showing apprecistion, he towered over you and had to look down

this time, it seemed like he was the one who ruffled your hair and treated you like his younger sibling

you hadn’t realized it, but tenma wasn’t the little kid you liked making fun of. now he was a strong, independent, opiniated firecracker who wasn’t afraid of telling it how it is

tenma wasn’t scared to tell you when you messed up, but this time, he offered advice. he was a natural leader who provided multiple effective solutions and was interested in working with the directors and producers to make the best possible cut

tenma wasn’t some egotistical, self–centered jock his company portrayed him out to be. he was a childish, fun–loving, aggressive firework who was unapologetic about his true self and put his entire self into acting

it was a particular scene that involved romance, and you had to act as a couple with tenma, having a practice read as you went through the lines

“i’m sorry, i loved you so much, it would have killed me if i didn’t say something.” tenma recited, emotionally looking into your eyes as he made his voice shake. it almost felt too authentic, and you cleared your throat, continuing the line

“i did too... but you,” you glanced up at him, and suddenly you realized tenma wasn’t that young brother you thought he was. you regretted ever treating him like some dumb kid, he had grown so much

“you were so young... i judged you too quickly and never let you have a chance. i’m sorry, tenma.”

tenma didn’t break character, but he just shook his head and put his hand out, knowing you didn’t follow the script

“it’s okay. it is what it is.”

you shook his hand, and you never realized how well his hand fit in yours

from that moment forward, you two had easy chemistry and became friends again. but as you began to see him as a man, he always reminded you that it was never going to work out even if he forgave you

he made it especially clear when you guys came back to that one arcade. its games never changing and it felt like you went back in time. when he caught you giving him the same look 16–year–old tenma gave you back then, he sighed and stared at you with firm determination

“i get it, i’m different now. but you gotta give up, don’t even think about it. i forgive you, but we’re friends. that’s all we’ll ever be.”

tenma was older now, and he was grateful for all you did for him, but he already had real love

he didn’t need fake love, especially from you

after playing games in the arcade, it was tenma this time who commented how fun it was and you could call him up any time for acting advice. he saw you as a younger sibling

you watched tenma grow up, but didn’t realize maybe you were the one who was still stuck in the past

🍁🛹 nanao taichi

taichi, grew up

he refused to ever let anyone hurt him the same way for the rest of his life. he couldn’t believe he was so desperate for love that it blinded his view on common sense. taichi never wanted to feel like he was used, kicked, and abandoned ever again

taichi never wanted to see you again, you didn’t deserve to see him after all this time

taichi began to build up his self–esteem, knowing whatever happened, wasn’t his fault anymore. he loved himself, he was the best you ever had and you left him for someone you ditched later that week

in a way, he won. taichi was happy, confident, and grew up to the best actor possible as he was surrounded by the mankai boys who supported him to be content with life

so taichi forced himself to stand taller, started looking people in the eye, and being direct with his boundaries. taichi learned more about what he could handle, and it was amazing to see how having self–respect meant people backed off, knowing he wasn’t a victim anymore

taichi learned his self worth and moved on, his love for himself was greater than anything he felt for you

(during times when he relapsed, sometimes he re–read the love letters he wrote you. you would leave them behind, not even opening them. they were so honest, so vulnerable, it physically hurt him to know he exposed his heart to the public like this)

(he’d read but at the end, he’d always laugh at his stupidity. you didn’t deserve to have such nice things like his heart)

taichi became even more extroverted, making countless friends as he realized making lasting relationships was meant to be double–sided and not just an one–way effort. as a result, he made contact with people who actually liked him and valued him as a friend

taichi put out good energy into life, and he got it back in the form of fun, friends, and his family

taichi liked making connections with people in theatre troupes on veludo way, always staying back to applaud at street acts and exchange contact information

one day, he came across a recently up and coming troupe that nearly fainted when they caught sight of the bright red hair that distinguished taichi

(amongst troupes, taichi was even better than god troupe. taichi was a resident star that was so nice that everyone loved him)

now, they were his closest friend group outside of the mankai boys and noticed their street act, rushing over to congratulate them

“you guys did amazing! i’m so proud!” taichi fake–sobbed, running over and throwing himself onto one of them with a tight hug as the group of friends released a tight laugh after the nervewrecking performance

“ah taichi~ you have to stop before i fall in love with you!” someone said, pushing taichi off jokingly as he pouted like a puppy.

taichi was older now, less naive and innocent to the dating game, his heart didn’t flutter like it would’ve before when he was 16

taichi just laughed it off, and it didn’t affect him like before. he didn’t fall in love, he learned to tell the difference between friendly affection and true love

(but sometimes, taichi closed himself off in a room, listening to the playlists he made for you on loop for hours. but in his moments of weakness, taichi listened and listened and listened. he scoffed, you never even liked the songs to begin with. he felt silly for wasting his favorites on you)

(slowly, eventually, the songs sounded less like you. he began to enjoy them on the radio and sang along freely, your existence blocked from his train of thought)

taichi added to the conversation, putting in funny jokes everyone laughed at and it felt nice to be involved in other groups. they didn’t ignore him, or try to take advantage of his obvious need to be popular

(it was funny how taichi naturally became popular the moment he loved himself, like being happy was all it took)

he wasn’t clinging for the validation anymore, taichi knew he was funny. he was worth it. he was the best version of himself possible

the topic changed to the troupe’s show being premiered this weekend. taichi gladly accepted the ticket, promising to come and cheer on the cast the loudest he could

(he knew they’d do the same when autumn troupe performed. in fact, they did. it was so cool to see all the troupes on veludo way band together and support creativity)

taichi received a promotional poster, thanking the group as he headed back to the dorms. taichi glanced down at the names, nearing the door before skidding to a stop

your name was in bold, big letters. taichi almost didn’t recognize it, he nearly repressed you in his memory

taichi thought back on the love letters he stayed awake to write, nearly falling asleep as he forced himself to share his feelings honestly. remembered how you didn’t even look at them, how it looked like you’d rather do anything than try to understand him

taichi heard the playlists in his ears all at once, his favorite songs being dedicated to you and you hated them

taichi nearly opened his notebook to pen a letter for you, was about to start shuffling through the playlist before he stopped

he read your name. said it aloud. but that was it, taichi just stuffed the poster in his bag as he strolled in after his first year of university

you didn’t deserve any space in his mind after what you did, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t come support his friends

taichi refused to ever let you have the privilege of controlling any aspect of his life anymore, he was going to that damn show and would yell as loud as possible

taichi knew he wasn’t coming for you, but for people who actually liked him

when taichi went inside, he smiled as his friends greeted him enthusiastically. he was so lucky to be who he was today

on saturday night, taichi was on the edge of his seat as the play reached its climax. your acting, he hated to admit it, was almost on par with his. you were dominating the stage and then some, your energy easily bouncing off your cast mates. it’s like you were born for the stage

16–year–old taichi would have been insecure over his own abilities, sunk into his seat and reconsidered everything he did. maybe would have thought he should practice more, get advice, fix who he was

but 19–year–old taichi was older, wiser, better. just because you were good, didn’t mean he wasn’t any good. in fact, taichi smiled contently, he was sure he was just a bit better

(just a little, and his ego actually believed it)

taichi jumped to his feet to applaud rambunctiously when the cast came out to have a bow, whooping as he swung his arms around to get his friends’ attention

they all turned and waved, sending comedic air kisses as you finally recognized him, your face paling and hands shaking as you didn’t do anything

taichi just smiled, waiting as the audience cleared out and he was let into backstage only to be embraced by the sweaty, hyped cast

“taichi~ you made it!” they cheered and taichi grinned, ruffling the younger actor’s hair as his heart soared due to being seen as a mentor to the rookies. he noticed the way they admired him, wanted to be like him

(and for once in his life, taichi liked being his own person, too)

“of course! anything for my friends!” taichi returned the hug, being the last person to pull away as he individually greeted everyone with just as much excitement. backstage buzz was real and got everyone in the best mood ever

except, you

when taichi reached you, your face was nervous. almost, fearful. you looked wary, ready to bolt at any moment he opened his mouth

(and taichi realized he had the power. he could’ve exposed you right then and there. tell everyone what a manipulative, toxic, evil person you were for breaking his heart. for cheating on him when he did nothing but be loyal to you. you were trash, the gum at the bottom of shoe, and he could easily destroy your career if he just told everyone. they would trust him, you’d be over)

(if he was 16, he would’ve ended you. he would’ve shared all the awful, terrible, low things you did and you wouldn’t be anything anymore. the revenge was almost too good, he would actually win)

but... the hurt that was in him before, the pain that would’ve pushed him to have the upper hand, it wasn’t there. he didn’t feel anything towards you except he was sorry you weren’t with him anymore

(he was the best you ever had, he knew that)

instead, taichi smiled even bigger. he pulled a boquet of flowers from behind his back, the flowers he remembered were your favorite

“hey! long time no see!” taichi quickly pulled you in for a hug, your rigid posture against his chest as you awkwardly put your hands around him. taichi realized it was the first time you actually hugged him back, but he didn’t feel anything

taichi pretended that you stepped on his foot, pulling away with a dramatic “ouch!” as you widened your eyes, about to profusely say sorry before he waved it off

“come on, you don’t have to apologize for what happened! i forgive you, you know. we’re good.” taichi pretended to be talking about the minor issue, gesturing to his shoe as he handed you the flowers. but you understood he meant much more than that, and your eyes were brimmed with tears

“hey~ don’t cry! it was just a little boo boo, nothing time won’t fix.” taichi sympathetically pat your shoulder, knowng you didn’t deserve it. you were the one who wasn’t worthy this time, even you couldn’t believe taichi forgived you for all you done

but one smile and you knew he wasn’t lying

(even after all this time, he couldn’t hide his emotions. his heart was on his sleeve, but it was protected. it recovered. it healed)

taichi stood tall. stared you in the eye. stopped trailing after you like a lost puppy. you stepped back as the crowd took him back, inviting him to the afterparty as he happily agreed, knowing he was the life of the party

taichi didn’t even look back at you, like he completely forgot all about you

taichi didn’t talk to you for the rest of the night, but when he did, he was always the bigger person, acting like nothing ever happened

he really moved on, and he felt so sorry for you he had to forgive you

(you had texted him later that night, wanting to meet up to talk. taichi opened the message, almost laughed, and closed his phone. he left you on read, he deleted your number again)

taichi was his own person now; he wasn’t in love with you anymore, he was in love with himself

and he was enjoying himself

taichi didn’t look back, not anymore

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