#why did they become such an underrated pair lately?

[rainyweeds]

Roxto X reader..

You and Roxto were awfully close but once the sully’s arrived and Roxto got the task to teach Kiri he almost spent no time whit you, and that made you very sad. You started to ignore him because you thought he didnt like you anymore but one day Roxto comfronts you. A fluff end whit a little kissing and fluff words?? Basiclly angst to fluff🫶 <3

Of course! This idea is so cute!! Thanks Anon ❤️

Always you, never her

Pairing: Rotxo x Metkayina!Reader

Summary: You and Rotxo grew up together, always around the other. Until the Sully family arrives and you, Rotxo, Tsireya and Ao'nung are tasked with teaching them your ways. You begin to think Rotxo is drifting away from you.

Contains: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Crushes, Angst, Fluff, A little jealousy, Confessions

A/N: My first ever request! I'm so happy someone asked me to write this! Rotxo is such an underrated boy I love him so much. He seriously needs more love. I really hope this turned out how you wanted Anon.

You and Rotxo had always been by each other's side. Joined at the hip, never further than 10 meters away from each other. Your parents would always say that the two of you were inseparable. If one of you went out, the other would follow closely behind. Just the two of you against the world.

At least, thats what you used to think. Lately, Rotxo has been spending all his time with the Sully siblings. Not that you minded per say. It wasn't the fact that he didn't have anymore free time to spend with you. And it wasn't the fact that he always brushed you off when you asked to hang out alone. Well, maybe a little. But it was more so the fact that he hung around Kiri more than you.

Now, you understood that he was literally tasked with teaching her the ways of the Metkayina, but you just couldn't get over how close the two of them became over the few weeks that the Sully family spent in Awa'atlu.

"Rotxo! Let's go collect sea shells! I saw some cool ones along the shore earlier." You ran up to your best friend. It's been a couple of days since you were able to see the Metkayina boy since he was busy helping Kiri and the others adapt so you thought it would be nice if you hung out again. Just the two of you.

"Not right now. I said I'd go with Kiri to go see the cove of our ancestors. Next time?" He offered an apologetic smile.

"Oh... That's fine I can go with Tsireya or something." You quickly walk away, tears filling your eyes. In the Metkayina, na'vi only take others that they want to mate with to the cove of ancestors. So why was Rotxo taking Kiri? He never expressed interest in taking a mate just yet.

Thoughts begin filling your head as your walking quickly turned into sprinting. You ran and ran until your lungs felt like they were going to collapse. Finally taking a break by the docks.

In the distance you could see Rotxo and Kiri riding their ilu's. Getting ready to dive under water. Your heart ached at the thought of Rotxo no longer being the best friend who was always by your side. And you'd be lying if you never hoped for him to become more.

Because before the Sully family arrived, Rotxo would spend his free time with you. Never with any other girls from the village. He always made sure to spend quality time with you. And you thought that just maybe, he felt the same way you did.

You sigh, getting up from your spot on the docks, instead deciding to help your mother instead. "Do you need help with dinner ma?" You sit down next to her.

"No dear. You should go spend time with your friends and enjoy your youth." She smiled sweetly at you. "Where's Rotxo? I haven't seen him in quite some time."

The name brought tears to your eyes. Your mom immediately picked up your mood and brought you into a hug. "What's wrong my sweet child." She rubbed gentle circles on your back.

"Rotxo brought another girl to the cove of ancestors." You quietly sobbed.

"Shhh I'm sure he's just showing her around. He's always been a kind soul." She hugged you, continuing to comfort you until you fell asleep, the exhaustion from crying finally took its toll on your body.

You could barely get up the next day. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying and all your energy had been drained. Outside, you could hear Tsireya and Ao'nung talking with your mother. Right, you had lessons to teach today.

Rotxo was already waiting for you by the docking station, his ilu patiently waiting for its rider. His eyes light up at the sight of you. He'd been looking for you all morning, but you were nowhere to be seen.

Lessons went by so slowly for you. You kept looking over to Rotxo, only for him to be looking over to and guiding Kiri. Guiding her breathing and placing a hand on her diaphragm.

You'd be lying through your teeth if you said you weren't jealous. The way he touched Kiri was how you wanted him to touch you. Instead of staring, you quickly shifted your attention to the rest of the group. Who cares if some stupid boy didn't reciprocate your feelings.

When the session was over, you quickly dove into the water, swimming away from Rotxo and Kiri as fast as possible. They had already discussed plans about exploring a coral reef that lay just beyond the shoreline.

It pained you. You felt like you were losing your best friend. Rotxo was spending so much time with Kiri and away from you. You began to wonder if he liked her more. Maybe he wanted to mate with her? It made sense. Spending more time with her, the side glance Kiri would give you when all of you were together, it hurt.

You think back to the looks Kiri would give you whenever you would talk to Rotxo. Maybe she was jealous because you were still technically his best friend. Kiri was a sweet girl and you didn't want her to feel threatened more than she already did.

So maybe all you needed to do was back off and keep your distance from Rotxo? If it meant Kiri felt more comfortable within the clan then you would give them all the space they needed.

The next time you saw Rotxo with Kiri was on the beach, collecting shells and pretty rocks. The Metkayina boy spotted you and immediately waved you over to him. But instead of joining them like you usually would, you walked away.

Rotxo watched you grow smaller and smaller as you walked away. He didn't know why you suddenly didn't want to hang out anymore. Was it because he waved you off last time? Surely not.

He sighed as he turned back to collecting sea shells with Kiri. She was the first to pick up on his feelings for you. So instead of just keeping to herself like usual, she decided to help him get his message across.

Kiri really enjoyed your company and was thankful that you'd help her when Ao'nung and his friends would try to tease her and her siblings. So when she finally got Rotxo to confirm her suspicions, she was quick to offer him help. After all, you felt the same way he did. So when she learned that you liked making jewelry from Tsireya, she knew just the thing for you.

The two of them spent a fair amount of time collecting shells and rocks to weave into colorful accessories for you. Rotxo felt excitement rush through his body. He would finally be able to ask you to be his partner and express all the feelings he had kept hidden for so many years.

You stood outside your marui with Tuk and Tsireya. Tuk had taken quite a liking towards you. You were like another older sibling to her and you loved watching her. The three of you were playing a beach game where you had to throw your rock into the hole in the sand. The youngest Sully said she learned it from her dad.

"So close Tuk!" Tsireya watched as the little girl threw the pebble a mere inches away from rolling into the goal. "Next time!"

After many failed attempts from all of you, Tsireya was finally the one to successfully throw her rock into the hole. All of you cheered as Neytiri came to collect Tuk. Both of them waved goodbye and headed off towards their own marui.

You and Tsireya slowly cleaned up the game as you saw Rotxo approach. He waved to you and then to Tsireya before taking a deep breath. When you saw him walking towards you, you panicked. Quickly excusing yourself from your friend and running off in the other direction.

After that, you start to notice how Rotxo would keep trying to talk to you. Way more than before. Usually he would just wave to you and continue on with whatever he was doing. But now, he was going out of his way to try and get more than a simple greeting out of you.

It was weird. Kiri was still acting the same despite Rotxo constantly trying to talk to you. It just didn't make much sense to you. Regardless, you still ignored conversation with either of them. Or at least you tried to.

At some point over the past week that you had avoided Rotxo, he had somehow managed to talk to Tsireya without your knowledge. Which you don't know how, seeing as you were always with the girl when she didn't have her duties to complete. But he had managed to learn your new schedule. Wake up, lessons with the Sully's, go for a swim, and then hide out in the cave the two of you used to hang out in until eclipse.

You sat on the edge of the cliff. Watching the waves roll in from the entrance below you. When you were younger, you and Rotxo would often swim past the reef and hide out in the cave until it was time for dinner. But now, it was just you. Hiding out until everyone went to bed. Tsireya had duties to complete as the daughter of the olo'eyktan, so you were left alone.

The sound of the waves was peaceful. Until you heard an ilu screeching. Your eyes snap open to see who disrupted your peace and quiet. Below you, Rotxo dismounted his ilu and hoisted himself onto the a rock.

You quickly pulled your legs up, sitting further back on the ledge. Maybe if you didn't make a noise, Rotxo would just stay down there and not climb up higher. Yeah right, you both knew how uncomfortable it was to sit anywhere else besides the flat area on rock that you were currently hiding on.

"I know you're up there." You hear Rotxo call out from under you. If he knew you were here, then why wasn't he climbing up. Did he have Kiri with him and wanted to be alone? "I just want to talk." Maybe not.

"Nope nobody here." You respond. Rotxo chuckles. He slowly peeks up at you before climbing up onto the rock and sits beside you.

"Why have you been ignoring me? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." The boy mumbled the last part. You think back to the past little while. You'd always hang around Tsireya and when you weren't with her, you were avoiding Rotxo like crazy.

"Sorry." You whisper. "I thought maybe you just wanted more time alone with Kiri."

"Kiri? Why would I want to spend more time with her?" Rotxo looks at you. Cloudy blue eyes met yours.

"Well I just thought that you had some sort of interest in her ya know? You spent so much time with her." You begin. "Then I thought that maybe you guys just needed space so I just though it would be better if I left you guys alone."

"Hold on." He cuts you off. "You thought I had something for Kiri?" You look down in shame. Sure, it was a little stupid to think he'd develop something for the Sully girl after only knowing her for a little while. But then you thought of how Tsireya and Lo'ak clearly had a thing for each other the moment they met.

"Well, yeah? You spent so much time with her and you guys were collecting shells together." The memory of him and Kiri on the beach together flashing through his mind.

Then it clicked in his mind. He was spending time with Kiri more than he was with you. Sure, he was really just talking about you whenever he was with Kiri but still, he should have thought about how you would feel about it.

"No no. You've got it all wrong." Rotxo grabs your hand. "I'm not interested in Kiri like that."

"You're not?" You give him a quizzical look.

"The reason I was with her was because she was helping me make this." He pulled out a small necklace from the bag he had brought. It was a simple braided string with shells across the front. Rotxo opened the clasp to put the necklace around your neck. "I'm sorry that I hadn't spent as much time with you as usual."

You felt a blush make its way onto your cheeks. "I thought it was because you wanted to mate with her."

"No. It's you. It's always been you. Never her." He cups your face in his hands. His eyes trail down to your lips and back up to your eyes. "May I?"

A simple nod was all he needed. He brought your face closer, slowly closing the gap between your lips. The kiss was sweet and passionate, neither of you pulling away until your lungs burned for air.

"Nga yawne lu ore." He whispered into your ear.

"I love you too, Rotxo."

I really like requests now that I've been able to write one so feel free to give me some! Also I absolutely suck at writing kissing scenes since I have never done it before but I really hope I was good.

Thank you for reading I hope you have a good day <3

#rotxo x reader #kiri avatar #tsireya #aonung #rotxo #tuktirey #fluff #childhood best friends to lovers #avatar #avatar twow #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader

[haven-of-dusk]

Love your fandom - teen wolf - 5, 8, 14, 15 and 16

5. Something you see in fics a lot and love:

Liam having a gay/bisexual crisis about Theo. I don't know why I enjoy it so much, but it never gets boring and it is always very funny to me to read Mason, exasperated, trying to deal with Liam's blood pressure rocketing through the roof about possibly crushing on Theo Raeken.

8. You Hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, trope, episode, etc.):

...Ethan/Isaac. It started out as me joking and turned into a semi-random pairing I greatly enjoy. I love Dethan as well, but the enemies to lovers with Ethan and Isaac plus their shared trait of leaving the show too soon and robbing Scott of his gay lieutenants? Criminally underrated imo.

14. The ship that always makes you smile:

It's probably a common answer, but it is, in fact, still Thiam. I have no idea what it is about them that works so well, why I love them so much, why the world has to be so unfair to rob us of getting more of them in the movie, etc. Pumpkin and Theodork just have a special place in my cold, dark heart.

15. The character that always makes you smile:

When I answered this one previously I brought up Ethan, so for the sake of variety. Let's talk about Isaac this time.

I so vividly recall early S2 wondering how the hell Isaac became such a fan favourite outside of Daniel Sharman being hot, and then the taking pain scene rolled around and I was 100% on board. Not to say he wasn't the best of Derek's pack already anyway, but late S2 cemented him as an icon and then he just kept being iconic throughout S3. And another omission from the movie that I'm violently bitter about. But yes, much as I did eventually come to love Liam, I will forever miss the days of Stiles as Scott's right hand and Isaac as Scott's left. Their trio dynamic in general was just underutilized and undervalued too.

16. A tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate:

So fair warning that it's depressing, but we're back to Ethan (and also by extension Aiden). In 3A, episode 8 I believe, when Stiles and Scott pull Ethan aside to talk to him while Lydia distracts Aiden, it's established that the Steiners can, to an extent, feel each other's pain. Cora claws Aiden, and Ethan feels it, right down to the location of the wound.

So, with that in mind, Aiden's death becomes that much sadder when you realize that Ethan knew the exact moment Aiden died, because at that moment, presumably, Aiden stopped feeling pain, and by extension Ethan stopped feeling Aiden's pain and knew that Aiden was gone. That scene is already devastating but once I realized this extra layer...I can't rewatch it without crying.

Thank you for the ask @wolfboy88!

#ask games #teen wolf #bisexual liam dunbar #Ethan/Isaac #thiam #isaac lahey #ethan and aiden steiner

[dankusner]

twice in a blue moon the local papers...

BOOK SMART

Jennie Reeves has been a teacher, a mother and a Park Cities socialite. With ‘Once in the Blue Moon,’ she’s become a serious writer

The coolest book event I ever attended was in a strip mall at the very non-rock-star hour of 5:30 p.m.

This was Wednesday, March 6, and I arrived fashionably late to find attendees spilling onto the sidewalk of Interabang Books.

Near the entryway, bartenders handed out AIX rosé and Rambler seltzer.

I spotted Ben Fountain, my vote for Dallas’ best writer, and Kendra Greene, my vote for Dallas’ most underrated writer.

I suddenly wished I’d worn heels.

Once in the Blue Moon is not the child of a sleek New York publishing house.

It’s a slim and stately novel put out by hometown heroes Deep Vellum, the literary version of a trendy indie label run by Will Evans.

I ran into Evans in the sci-fi section of the bookstore. “It feels like a real party!” he hollered over the din.

Book events this packed usually mean one of two things: A YouTube celebrity, or a Hollywood one.

Rusty old scribes don’t bring the crowds anymore, but this night was different.

Interabang sold out of Once in the Blue Moon so fast Evans had to retrieve more copies. By evening’s end, they’d sold 300.

“Jennie told me this is how it would go,” he said, smiling.

Jennie is Virginia Miller Reeves, once a little girl in Oklahoma so dirt-poor she had to borrow a pencil at school, later a Park Cities socialite, kindergarten teacher, local preservationist and now published author.

The literary world toasts its young talent, but literature itself demands time, not to mention wisdom.

Toni Morrison was 40 when her career got cracking.

Laura Ingalls Wilder, whose Little House books captured the American frontier, was 65.

Blue Moon owes a debt of gratitude to Wilder’s deceptively simple and profound Little House books, but as far as oldest debut novelist?

Reeves beats Wilder by 15-plus years.

“I’ve been working on this for over a decade,” Reeves told the audience, standing at a signing table near the back.

She was undoubtedly the belle of this ball, in her signature red glasses and red lipstick, paired with a vintage Stetson, her lucky hat.

I once asked Reeves her age, and she locked eyes with me and said, “Eighty-plus.”

Reeves was past 70 when she began unfolding a story about growing up in the shadow of the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl era that emptied out Oklahoma so thoroughly that families like the Joads from The Grapes of Wrath fled to California.

But Reeves’ family stuck around.

They worked the ravaged land, one reason her father disappeared in the drink for a spell. Blue Moon was his bar of choice.

“This is a book about ordinary people who lived in a very extraordinary time,” Reeves continued, though the crowd was noisy, and she kept it short. “A story of resilience and redemption.” Everyone clapped.

When I first heard about Blue Moon , I had visions of Mad Men ’s dashing blowhard Roger Sterling dictating his autobiography, Sterling’s Gold , a send-up of vanity projects that can consume men (and it’s usually men) in their twilight years.

Blue Moon is at once more modest and more ambitious.

I was hooked by the opening line: “I learned the alphabet by the dim light of an oil lamp in a kitchen heated by a woodstove burning sweet cedar.”

The narrator reminded me of the young Mary Karr in Liar’s Club (with less cussing), though Reeves was aiming toward Steinbeck’s

The Red Pony , a 1933 episodic novella about life on a California ranch.

Back then, good books came with illustrations. Mark Twain, Washington Irving, Arthur Conan Doyle — their stories had pictures.

Why the publishing world dropped this custom I can’t fathom; “more words, fewer visuals” doesn’t strike me as a selling point.

But Reeves bucked the trend, as she did others, enlisting Corsicana artist Kyle Hobratschk to etch portraits for each chapter.

A rocking chair, the soulful eye of a cow, a fat plume of cotton.

The pair met in 2015 through Reeves’ daughter Lucy Wrubel, a dynamo in her own right. (Wrubel is a DJ, and on the night of the Interabang event, she’d returned from a gig with Keith Urban, who’d given her his guitar.)

Nine years ago, Wrubel hired Hobratschk, then in his early 20s, to etch a portrait of the family’s beloved home on Alice Circle in the Park Cities as a Christmas gift for her parents.

The historic house was draped in ivy with a voluptuous garden. I’d seen a picture, and it looked like the English countryside.

Reeves and her husband, Stuart, who spent 35 years working with Ross Perot, had become empty nesters, and they were downsizing to a place in Caruth Court, where museum-worthy paintings shared space with comfy furniture.

The new owners on Alice Circle, however, didn’t share their reverence for the property.

They tore down a 100-year-old section of the home and gutted the treescape and gardens.

The etching from Hobratschk was a way to hold onto the place as it changed.

The duo’s collaboration evolved naturally.

To hear Reeves tell it, Hobratschk asked her to read from the manuscript she’d been working on, and to hear Hobratschk tell it, he never asked. No matter: The manuscript was read.

“She has such a good voice,” said Hobratschk, now a distinguished 31. “I’m so glad she’s doing the audiobook.”

Hobratschk is the man behind the 100 West artist and writers residency in Corsicana’s charming downtown square. He spent much of his childhood in Saudi Arabia, where his mechanical engineer father made submersible pumps. But he recognized the story Reeves had written.

“My dad’s family are cotton farmers from the Panhandle,” he said. “I know that flatness and the red dirt.” His copper-plate etchings are done by hand, which didn’t sound impressive until I saw one at the signing table, a miniature portrait of a man in a wagon. I ran my fingers across the tiny hatch marks, like braille for Lilliputians. “I use a magnifying glass,” Hobratschk explained.

Reeves wrote her book in longhand, too. “Like Toni Morrison,” I pointed out to her, though she added, “and Cormac McCarthy.” The manuscript got the attention of a New York publisher, but it was taking too long, and they never understood the etchings (weren’t pictures for children’s books?), so the pair reached out to Will Evans, a friend of Hobratschk’s.

“Kyle is one of the most visionary people I’ve met since moving to Dallas,” Evans told me, quite the compliment from one of the most visionary people I’ve met since moving back to Dallas. The two met in 2013 at a reading for Polish poet Wisława Szymborska, which makes me wonder what Dallas those two inhabit.

This city is a rootless place. We ripped up cotton fields and built a shopping mall (a very good one), but a lack of cohesive identity, and a hunger to belong to history haunts this town in a way you don’t feel in a city like New York, though that place is also rootless in its own way. The rugged individualism Grapes of Wrath captured is the American story. We move. We reinvent. But Blue Moon is a reminder that whatever soil we grew in never leaves us.

It’s also a reminder that however broken the world feels right now, it was broken before. Literature is the lesson of how we move through it.

Reeves and Hobratschk cut a dashing figure at the signing table, where people lined up with the book in their hands.

“We’ve been working on this together for eight years,” Reeves told a woman as she swiveled her fountain pen across a mostly blank page. “Can you imagine how young Kyle was then?” She slid the book across the table for him to sign, and he didn’t miss a beat.

“I could barely order a drink at the bar,” he cracked. Big laugh.

An 80-something firecracker who was young at heart and a 31-year-old artist with an old soul. They were an odd couple; they were the perfect match.

Wow.

Two days after news broke that Dallas (Deep Vellum) publisher Will Evans is about to be knighted by France for his contribution to French literature, The New York Times has a piece lauding him for his role in making Dallas, "home to one of the most dynamic, international literary scenes in the country."

Us? Really? Wasn't The Dallas Morning News openly sneering at this idea just a few years ago? And now it's happening?

You know, there's a point at which the city stops in its tracks, turns around, looks hard at reality and says, you know what, this city's future is not in the hands of real estate developers and new convention centers.

The people with the vision and action that will create a great future here are the Will Evanses, who see something in the city that was invisible to the old guard. Literature? Who knew? Some of them have been here all along. It's Angela Hunt, who told us that the Trinity River can become the greatest urban rewilding project on earth (and spawn riparian real estate the old guard could only dream of). It's John Tatum, who has told us from the beginning that rail -- a vast sprawling financial black hole so far -- can be reconfigured to create a new way of life in the city's core. It's Alan Cohen, telling us that all of our doubt and mistrust of local government (and hence, community) can be resolved with software. They're all here. It's all here. We just have to stop. Turn around. And listen. That listening, though. Always the hard nut.

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

➶ WHAT MAKES THE MHA BOYS BREAK (PT. 1)

pairings: mezo shoji, tokoyami fumikage, hanta sero, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, hitoshi shinsou

warnings: reverse comfort, may or may not have cried a lil’ while writing this. this one hurt a lot but it’s so sweet and fluffy, enjoy luvs!! also lol you could see my favoritism for kirishima

part two with bakugo, iida, ojiro, tamaki, mirio, hawks, dabi, shigaraki, and aizawa is here!

WHEN YOU CALL THEM BEAUTIFUL: MEZO SHOJI, TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE, HANTA SERO

MEZO SHOJI 

(HE’S SO UNDERRATED LIKE PLS Y’ALL 😩)

he starts panicking as soon as you ask him to take off his mask

at first, he declines right away before turning his face around so you couldn’t touch the fabric

“mezo, i promise. i won’t hurt you, or judge you i just- i want you to trust me, is that alright with you?” you said gently. “but if you don’t want to, don’t worry about it, ‘kay?”

could he really trust you? or would you leave when he found out he wasn’t a normal person with a normal smile, that he was a monster, that was someone who looked different, what would you do?

but if you didn’t love him for who he really was, then... what was the point, right?

shoji let out a trembled sighed in defeat as his dupli-arms took the mask off. he looked down in shame, eyes shut so he couldn’t see your reaction

but your reaction was... completely unexpected

"You're beautiful!!! Why didn't you tell me that you looked so lovely all this time baby??" 

did he just hear you correctly?

did you just-- call him beautiful?

and in that moment, in those small moments, you can see his geniune smile.

his real smile beneath the mask, as his eyes shine for the first time with sincere, and earnest love and thanks

pls keep him 🥺

TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE

the moment he hear the words "you're beautiful" come out of your mouth, he couldn't stop thinking about it for days. 

and i mean days as in multiple days, so probably weeks

and he’ll probably think about it for the rest of his life

because when he looked at himself, he thought: what about him was beautiful? 

he didn't have human-like features like everyone else, he didn't have those big muscles and a nice body, because-- well, he had a bird head!

A LITERAL BIRD HEAD, so why on earth did you: you who had human features, you who was so nice to everyone, and you who could have gone for so many other people call him beautiful?

he didn’t have that charisma and extroverted personality like some others did, and he kept to himself 

why did you think he was beautiful? how?

but you were the one who said it. you were the one who reminded him, you were the one who gave him hope

and he knew that you were always straightforward with the truth-- and this was a truth, too

and to him, that was the most beautiful thing.

HANTA SERO

this amazing bby doesn’t get enough recognition

but for a good part of his life, he’d been surrounded by people with amazing quirks, levels of strength, and amazing appearances.

he was literally friends with bakugo fricking katsuki, and he was in the same class as shoto todoroki

when he first met you, he had to convince himself for days that there was no way that he could ever catch your eye,

until he did.

when you two met after a long day of training and you told him a joke, his eyes sparkled and he laughed, genuinely

before you knew it, you blurted out the words, “you’re beautiful” before realizing what you’d said and flushing

lol sero chokes on his water

“...did you really mean that?” 

“i- yeah, sorry, i didn’t-”

“no, uh, thank you. thank you so much.”

for the next few days, he stays up at night and keeps on training because he thinks of the time you called him, who constantly felt like he wasn’t enough, beautiful

and that was more than enough to make him smile. 🥺💕

WHEN YOU KISS THEIR SCARS: IZUKU MIDORIYA, SHOTO TODOROKI

IZUKU MIDORIYA

he immediately starts tearing up when you kiss them

most people probably expect him to get flushed with something so intimate, but it’s the opposite

his scars are just something that’s so meaningful to him because it’s evidence of what he’s been through

but at the same time, he’s also insecure about them because he feels like he disappointed his mom by getting hurt so often 🥺

when you kiss his scars and tell them that they’re beautiful, he starts tearing up because-- wow

this is the moment that he’ll remember until the day he dies, because it’s when he feels free to finally open up to you

it’s when he feels free to open up to anyone, for that matter, and a huge weight just gets lifted off his chest

you took his hands and kissed his knuckles before pressing your forehead to his

izuku begins to cry, just a little bit as you gingerly kiss his scars again

“you see? you’re safe. you’re safe with me, okay?”

he nods slowly. “th-thank you.”

SHOTO TODOROKI

you two were walking back to the dorms after training out on the field together

it wasn’t too late a night, just a few minutes before curfew

your hands were buried in your pockets as you two talked about your day and what you could improve on in training

“shoto, can i ask you a question?”

he thought you were mad at him for a moment 😳

“sure.”

you swallowed, as you took a breath, “can i touch your scar?”

he whips his head around, out of shock and confusion

you wanted to touch his scar?

shoto had never planned on anything like that happening to him, and especially not from someone who meant so much to him

“...i suppose so,”

you hid your anxiousness and swallowed, cupping his face in your hands as your hand brushed across his scar

a jolt went through your fingers at that moment, and it was the first time you’d ever felt so connected to someone

shoto todoroki, the prodigy and son of endeavor was letting you touch his scar

to your surprise, shoto melted into it as he closed his eyes, placing his hand gently on top of yours 

you could feel his hands shaking though his expressions were so relaxed

you kissed the side of his scar, running a hand through his hair

“i’m so lucky to have you.”

WHEN YOU COMPLIMENT HIS QUIRK: EIJIRO KIRISHIMA, DENKI KAMINARI, HITOSHI SHINSOU 

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

eijiro cursed as he slammed his head against the wall for the hundredth time that day

he hated to admit it, but ever since the sports festival, everything had just been falling apart

for starters, he was already insecure enough on his own about his quirk

it seemed like everyone had something flashy and made them look invincible, while he was stuck with something that could only follow around his body and cracked if he used it too much

and that... that made him upset

but when the sports festival came around, not only did he see everyone with amazing quirks and using them to their full potential, tetsutetsu had nearly the same quirk as him

and to make matters worse, they had tied and had to settle it with a fist fight

“why?” he asked to himself, looking down at the floor. “why couldn’t i- why couldn’t i have been born with a flashier quirk?”

great, now he was crying.

at least no one else was around to see him this weak-

“kirishima?”

oh shit.

he turned around, his bloodshot eyes locking with yours. “h-hey,” eijiro said weakly 

“what are you- what are you doing here-?” you noticed the way his body trembled when he took a breath and blood trickling from his forehead. “hey, are you okay?” you said.

eijiro sincerely had no idea what to say. “my quirk,” he looked down at his hands. 

you cocked your head. “what about it? i think it’s pretty neat!”

kirishima looked up. “really?”

“mhm!” you nodded enthusiastically. “it can be the strongest barrier, or the most powerful weapon! i think it’s cool that your body can just become a shield out of nowhere, it’s like-- it’s like you’re a shield, ya know? sure, todoroki might have his ice, but that makes damage and takes time to clean up, like midoriya’s punches or bakugo’s explosions. but your quirk is its own little thing! and i think that’s pretty neat.”

kirishima beamed. huh, maybe so. 

DENKI KAMINARI

“good job, bakugo!” 

“haha, nice job on that one, kirishima.”

“your quirk is so cool, todoroki! i love how the ice just went striaght through the roof!”

“nice jumping, deku! your punches are amazing.”

but i...

i was the one who helped the power come back, i was the one who literally fried my brain, i was the one who did all of that, and i-

i’m so weak.

denki inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth, trying to stop the trembling in his breath as he closed his eyes

he had done so much, and what did he get in return?

all he wanted was to be someone, to be someone that made people smile, to be someone that people genuinely wanted to see

did anyone even want to see him?

“i’m a failure, i’m a failure, what am i doing, why am i so weakwhat’swrongwithmewhycan’tidoanythingright-”

“good job, kaminari!”

he turned his head, finding you running up to him and waving your hands up in the air

“hey! pikachu!” you exclaimed, trying to catch your breath once you stopped. “great job up there! you left before anyone else could notice, i can’t believe you managed to do all that. your quirk is so cool!”

denki’s heart swelled with pride, his eyes saying nothing but thanks.

your quirk is so cool!

“thanks, y/n! so, how do you feel about going to the arcade after school?”

HITOSHI SHINSOU

hitoshi stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes blood-shot and head fuzzy

“i’m not a villain.” hitoshi said slowly. “i can’t be a villain. i want to be a hero.” 

he splashed the sink water onto his face. “get yourself together, are you really going to let a few words hurt you?”

but hitoshi couldn’t help but feel that way-- what could he even use his quirk for- no, no, he could use it for so much. but...

“ha! a quirk such as yours should be only used for villains, you monster! you might as well get out of here before anyone else tries to kick you out.”

hitoshi screamed in anger, splashing the water across his face and pressing hard into his eyes, before slapping himself across the face

“get yourself together..”

“hey, shinsou!! i was wondering if-”

your eyes locked with his frustrated expression. “shinsou? is... something wrong?”

normally, he’d push you away, but-- but now, he really needed someone

your breath hitched when you saw his eyes land onto yours, but for some reason, there was something so lonely and upsetting behind them, before you remembered what a few students at ua had said.

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were on a rush to get to school that morning and had to run ahead and pass through that area. 

“if it’s about what some of those idiots said this morning, just... know that i think, for the record, that your quirk is so cool.”

shinsou’s eyes furrowed in confusion. you? you thought his quirk was cool?

“i’m not lying,” you said, as if reading through his thoughts. “i really think its amazing. you can help so many people with it, you can change the entire world with a quirk as special as that, so act like it! because it’s true, your quirk is really amazing, and i’m pretty sure you’re the only one who doesn’t see it, you knucklehead.”

he doesn’t tell you this, but-

ever since that day, he’s never stopped thinking about it. 

🕭 reblog | comment | follow 🕭

hey bbys! reminder to go drink water if you’re reading this! water nourshies your sexc body and can make you feel a heck ton better ‘bout yourself-- and remember, whatever you did today was more than enough. ily very much, but if it’s past your bedtime, GO TO SLEEP KIDDO, ily!

qotd, what’s your favorite drink 👀

join my family! 

list of family members: @kirishimuhhhhh​​, @xuxisushi-1​​, @kirishima-my-beloved​, @msminsuga​, @farfetchedparanoia​, @satis-mangata​, @moonhere​​, @renegadedeca​​, @viridevi​​ <3

☂ requests are open for mha + hq!! ☂

#eleanor writes! #bnha hcs #mha hcs #mha headcanons #bnha fluff #mha fluff #mha imagine #bnha imagine #mezo shoji #shoji x reader #mezo shoji x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x y/n #bnha x gn!reader #tokoyami fumikage #tokoyami x reader #hanta sero #sero x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #todoroki x reader #kaminari x reader #shinsou x reader #shoto todoroki #todoroki hcs #todoroki headcanons #shinsou hcs #shinsou headcanons #kirishima x y/n

[scuttling]

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #paper rings #inspired by #taylor swift

[missmorosis]

here’s our bus route map for my bus ride! (masterlist!)

here’s the original event post :)

HI EVERYONE!! i just wanted to thank you all for your participation BECAUSE AAAAAA YOU GUYS DELIVERED AND UGH I WAS LITERALLY SO WORRIED NOBODY WAS GONNA WRITE ANYTHING BUTSJFLKFASDF

ALL OF YOU ARE SO TALENTED OKAY??? LIKE BYE I WAS BLOWN AWAY

I WAS SO EXCITED FOR THIS EVENT HEHEHE I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO SO MUCH!! AND THE FACT THAT YOU SPENT TIME ON THIS EVENT 😭😭MWAH MWAHH

THANK YOU AGAIN FOR 400!! MUCH LOVE AND HUGS AND KISSES :D

ALSO SORRY AHHA THIS WAS POSTED SO LATE

WE IGNORE HOW IT’S PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO GET FROM LA TO LONDON VIA BUS JKDFJKFJK

here’s how i formatted it!

title- author’s @!

pairing genre warnings word count their summary that they made

-> my review!

let’s take a look at our map...

starting from LA, heading to bilbao! we’ll stop along the bus stops on our way! 

and yes im aware that the route is going in a weird, illogical way if bilbao is our last stop, shush i wasnt thinking when i made bilbao our last city KJDFJKS

masterlist under the cut!!

now arriving at... los angeles, California!

-> write an AU!! the AU can be literally anything: royalty AU? road trip AU? GO FOR IT!! just as long as it’s not in the canon era hehehe

first stop... “something only the stars know” - @luvoratomi​ 

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader genre: secret relationship au, royal au, crown prince!suna, knight!reader, established relationship, fluff, angst  word count: 544 their summary: in which you and crown prince, suna rintarou, find comfort in each other’s arms underneath the moonlight, where only the stars are witnesses of your love.

-> my review: um. nayru. OKAY IM CONSTANTLY BLOWN AWAY BY YOUR TALENT AND THIS IS NO EXCEPTION. i dont even KNOW who rintarou is but im in love with him. ALSO I DONT THINK IVE EVER READ A ROYAL AU BUT KLASDFJ THIS WAS SO?? WELL?? WRITTEN?? ive reread it at LEAST 5 times.   

next stop... an untitled zombie au from @eunoianthia

pairing: yamaguchi tadashi x female!reader genre: zombie au, angst :) warnings: a lot of angst, death, a bit of gore? word count: 1.1k their summary: going to Los Angeles was a dream, and you were finally achieving it. It’s like a dream come true, going to Los Angeles and your boyfriend tagging along? What could go wrong?

-> my review: OKAY WAIT THIS IS THE FIRST ZOMBIE AU IVE EVER READ. like EVER. AND WHAT I DIDNT EXPECT IT TO HURT THIS MUCH. i- the ending- PLEASE I- i dont even know what to say. how COULD YOU.

now arriving at... 3:38 am from @arquitecturadelanada​​

pairing: zuko x fem!reader genre: roommates au, i would say fluff! warnings: none! word count: 1.1k their summary: As sokka’s best man zuko has to write a heartfelt speech for the wedding day, the only issue? he doesn’t believe in love, but maybe his roommate can change his perception on the matter.

-> my review: so youre saying this whole time youve been supporting my writing when YOU WRITE BETTER THAN I DO?? ugh you’re so talented this isn’t funny, and this fic ALMOST MAKES ME WANT TO BECOME AN ATLA BLOG AGAIN BAHHA- “he noticed he was considerably less stressed just by hearing his roommate’s voice” IM GONNA CRY​​

last stop... “what are the odds” from @hikariakaashi​ 

pairing: kuroo x fem!reader genre: roommates au, i would say fluff! warnings: none! word count: 3.2k their summary: it was an act of desperation, to say the least, downloading the app lev recommended for him. but he was in dire need of a wedding date. so when kuroo opened up the brightly colored app titled rent a girlfriend, he knew he was in for an interesting evening.

-> my review: so uh 1) i remember writing a review for this and i have no idea where it went IM SO SORRY DSKJFJ and 2) i would do anything for kuroo to be my bf even if it was just my job 😩😩 and 3) um ??? YOURE SO TALENTED?? MISS MA’AM??

now arriving at... london, england!

-> breakup fic time </3 you can make it an angsty breakup, or a fluffy exes to lovers!

first stop... “i love(d) you”- @floralkawa​

pairing: tsukishima x reader! genre: angst! warnings: none! word count: 300 their summary: one where tsukishima never showed his love. making it onesided, leading poor f/n on in a bitter relationship. of course, no one can handle it forever, can they ?

-> my review: this is the reason why i dont like angst. i felt this IN MY HEART, OKAY? NOELLE YOU LIED & SAID YOU COULDN’T WRITE FEELINGS. i hate it I HATE IT I HATE IT. but ugh youre talented enough to pull anything off and your angst is PROBABLY the only ones ill read willingly :( 

next stop... “i should have seen the signs”- @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner

pairing: oikawa x reader! genre: angst! warnings: none! word count: 2k their summary: going to the city of love and london was supposed to be an exhilarating vacation after a long week of exams. as it seems, love is fake and so is toru oikawa.

-> my review: um. this kinda hurted me tho. how am i even allowed to be friends with you like ?? miss ma’am? YOURE SO TALENTED??? i hate angst and ill say it again: I HATE ANGST. IT HURTS IT HUUUURRTSS. OIKAWA MY BABY WOULD NEVER DO THAT BUT HE DID. I CANSTEALK I CANT DEAL WITH THIS 

now arriving at... berlin, germany!

first stop... “Spring Chills”- @wesokkasimp

pairing: oikawa x reader! genre: fluff! warnings: none! word count: 447 their summary: you and Oikawa go for a walk on a chilly spring day. beware: banter ahead

-> my review: 😐😑😐 my heart wasn’t prepared for this. AND!! I BET Y/N LOOKED GREAT IN THAT TANK TOP; OIKAWA BETTER HAVE GIVEN HIS JACKET TO HER AFTERWARDS. jacket + tank top = cute outfit smh

next up... “warm and fuzzy”- @oikawaplssteponme​

pairing: kuroo x reader! genre:  fluff, a hint of angst, childhood friends to lovers, ‘boy next door’ warnings: one swear word, kuroo calls the reader ‘pretty’ however no gender pronouns are used, mini make out word count: 1.4k their summary: n/a but a quote: "The lights in your room were dim. Their golden-yellow tone shone above you, though you paid little attention to what was going on inside your room. You were much more interested in what was happening outside.”

-> my review: wait this actually reminds me of me and my front door neighbor GOODBYE AKLSJDF I MISS HIM :( ANYWAYS BAHHAHA- see you never miss 😐 i think awkward tetsu is underrated BYEALKSF THIS WAS SO CUTE I CANTASEKL

last stop... “ice cold”- @kyotarou​

pairing: tsukishima x reader genre:  fluff! warnings: bit of fanon tsukki, mutual pining, smidge of angst, fluff word count: 700+ their summary: n/a but a quote: “Asshole was the best word to describe Tsukishima Kei. He was an asshole to his peers, and it didn’t change towards you, his best friend.”

-> my review: mY TSUKISHIMA HEART OMG- okay OKAY I THOUGHT I GREW OUT OF MY LOVE FOR HIM BUT ITS ALL COMING BACK ASLKJFDL- oh to share a jacket and be vulnerable with tsukishima ✋😩 once again bestie youre so talented it isnt funny

now arriving at... bilbao, spain!

our only stop in this city... "break-in”- @kohi-zeri​​

pairing: iwazumi x reader! genre:  fluff!! warnings: mentions of food and common illnesses, use of “darling” and “brat” word count: 1.4k their summary: n/a but a quote: “there’s something so… infuriating about having a migraine. especially when it’s uncalled for.”

-> my review: i cant express to you how much i love sickfics. like JLSDFLJKFSALJ SADFL I CANT- ALSO I READ THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME WHEN I HAD THE WORST HEADACHE SO WHENEVER MY HEAD HURTS I COME REREAD THIS BAHAHHA-

here’s what some of our passengers are saying...

one passenger says “Wait. Stand right there, I want to take a picture of you.”

“pretty petals, pretty pictures”- @shxyo-sho​​​

pairing: iwazumi x reader! genre: fluff, mutual pining, just two best friends crushing on each other warnings: none! word count: 590 their summary: If you could describe your best friend, Kiyoko, in one word; what would it be? I would pick the word, flawless.

-> my review: repeat after me: kiyoko is a queen. and YOU DO HER JUSTICE I ASFDLKJ PLEASE- in all honesty i would be blushing if kiyoko said a word to me too- y/n you arent alone ✋😩

another passenger asks “Why aren’t you asleep?”

"night owl”- @atlabeth​​​​

pairing: sokka x reader! genre: fluff! warnings: stress over school and one (1) curse, but other than that it’s pure fluff word count: 907 their summary: If you could describe your best friend, Kiyoko, in one word; what would it be? I would pick the word, flawless.

-> my review: alright this isnt fair where is my irl sokka 😐 YOURE BRINGING ME BACK INTO MY ATLA DAYSDF LKSJA- not complaining tho I LOVE SOKKA SO MUCH. and “But for a “fairly smart person”, you made a lot of bad decisions.” THATS TOO RELATABLE STOP IT RIGHT NOW SFKDJK

HEHEHEHEH THANK YOU AGAIN!! SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG GOOD BYE

#morosis's 400 followers bus ride #morosis recommends #haikyuu!! #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #atla x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #atla fanfiction #haikyuu x y/n #atla x y/n

[heywardsarchive]

can you write a charlie weasley christmas one? i honestly don’t mind what happens but he’s so underrated and underwriter. (also can fred still be alive please 🥺)

i made it a New Year fic i hope thats ok! 

New Year’s Kiss

summary: after an unhappy breakup, Charlie Weasley meets his ex lover at a new years party hosted by his parents.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x female reader

Warnings: sorta angsty but fluffy.

Word count: 1.9k words

***

Y/n sighed as she smoothened her woolen sweater, reaching the oak door of the Weasley house. As she reached out to knock the door, it burst open and the Weasley matriarch pulled y/n into her arms. "Hello mrs Weasley." She said, still in the hug. "Can't breathe." She muttered. "Oh sorry sorry." Mrs Weasley broke the hug and smiled up at the girl.

"It's been years since you last came dear, don't you miss us?" She asked, a warm look in her eyes. "I miss all of you alot mrs Weasley, but work is stressful and I barely get any breaks." Y/n answered. She raised an eyebrow at the girl. "Are you sure that it has nothing to do with your break up with Charlie?" "It has nothing to do with that." Y/n protested.

Mrs Weasley nodded and ushered y/n into the house where all the Weasley kids (minus Charlie and Bill) were seated in the living room engaged in a game of exploding snap. Ginny's head shot up, she saw y/n and a huge smile spread across her face. Ginny saw y/n as the older sister she never had. Although she had graduated a few years before ginny started Hogwarts, ginny had become quite close to y/n when she was dating Charlie and often kept in touch with her through letters.

"Y/n! You're here!" Ginny got up and ran to give y/n a hug. "Of course I'm here, why did you think I wouldn't come?" She ruffled the younger girl's red hair. "Because you knew Charlie would be here." She shrugged. Ginny may have been only 12 years old but she was pretty smart. Y/n laughed nervously and sat down beside fred at the table.

"So boys, what new pranks have you come up with?" Y/n asked the twins. Theh excitedly explained their latest invention and its side effects. "So y/n how's st. Mungos treating you?" Percy asked. "stressful. But it's totally worth it." Everyone continued making small talk for a while until Charlie Weasley entered the living room. He dusted the soot off of himself from the furnace.

Y/n made eye contact with the second Weasley boy and immediately looked away and walked to the kitchen to mrs Weasley. "Do you need my help mrs Weasley?" She asked. Mrs Weasley smiled warmly at the girl. "No dear, go out and enjoy with the kids." "But I want to help." She insisted. "Oh alright, you can set the table and make the boys clear out the mess they created." She instructed.

Y/n picked up the plates and charmed them to levitate behind her as she made the boys clear the mess left behind by their game of exploding snap. After a few minutes of coaxing, the table was cleared and set. Harry and Hermione had also arrived and were busy chatting with Ron.

After a few minutes of conversation with the trio, y/n excused herself and walked out into the backyard. The weather was cold and she pulled her jacket closer to her body. "It's cold isn't it." Came a deep voice from behind her. "Yeah, it is." She replied, not turning around to see who it belonged to. Although in a few moments she would regret that decision.

"Hey." It said again. Y/n turned around completely this time and seeing the person infront of her, she decided to walk back into the house, not interested in having a conversation with him at the moment. "Goodbye."

"Wait." He said holding her wrist, stopping her from moving. "What do you want?" She said irritatedly. "To talk." Charlie replied, hands in his pocket. "There's nothing to talk about!"  She said exasperated. "I want to apologize." He said, looking down. "For what? You broke my heart, over a letter! You didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face. And now you want to apologize? After 3 years!" Y/n's face was red, with the cold or with anger, we'll never know.  She pulled her wrist sharply from his grip. "But-" Charlie started. "But nothing." Y/n said sharply.

"Just hear me out. Please." He looked at her pleadingly. "Fine. You have 2 minutes." The (h/c) girl crossed her arms.

"You have no idea how hard it was for me to break up with you. But I had got a job in Romania and you we're so close to being a healer. I didn't want to destroy your dreams but making mine more important. I didn't think long distance would work. We would be so wrapped up in our work, we would have no time for each other. And besides, I was falling so deep in love with you I couldn't bear to be far from you. I couldn't bear to see your face when I broke up with you. It would break me more than I already was broken." Charlie finished with a sigh. He was playing with his fingers, unable to meet the eyes of the girl in front of him.

"I wish you would have told me that sooner." Y/n whispered, taking Charlie's hands in hers. "We would have worked something out, we both could have been saved from heartbreak." "I know, I feel like an idiot now." Charlie chuckled sadly. "It's probably too late for us now." He said sadly. "Not too late." She smiled. "I'm still mad at you though, you're not getting forgiven so fast." She punched his arm.

"You think there's still a chance for us?" Charlie said hopefully. "Yes I do." Y/n placed her forehead on his and smiled at him. "That's brilliant." He lifted the girl in his arms that had become very muscular after working in the dragon reserve, and spun her around. She giggled slightly wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Kids! It's almost midnight, gather round!" Rung molly Weasleys voice. "I guess it's time we head in." Charlie said, both of them still in an embrace. The two lovers walked with their fingers intertwined into the house. Everyone cheered seeing the them walk in and the couple blushed bashfully.

"5,4,3,2,1!" They all counted down. "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" They cheered. Everyone turned to their partners and pulled them into a kiss, those who didn't have a partner, pulled their friends into a hug.

Charlie turned to y/n and cupped her cheeks. He looked at her, asking for consent for a kiss (because consent is important kids) she nodded and closed the space between them. They pulled apart after what felt like an eternity and stared lovingly at eachother. "I still love you." They said together and then giggled at the statement like young school children.

The new year brought a new start for the both of them and they would surely cherish it. *** I was supposed to post this yesterday but I was too lazy to complete it so um enjoy this fic a little late😙

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x y/n #harry potter x reader

[welcometomy20s]

June 30, 2021

Coco (and Lulu’s) Legacy

Coco wrote the book on how to be a Hololive member, from front to back. She plotted out how one can amass an audience, how to interact and build a worldwide fandom, how to integrate ideas of the audience to the grand narrative of the company, how to deal with tee-tee and pairings, how to cope when YouTube strikes you down in its impunity, and how to cope when Cancel Brigade comes to destroy your work, along with how to bring a more cohesive workplace, how to protect yourself from the unmooring of identity that is inherent in VTube, and finally how to leave when you are in a rollercoaster that is only going up. Coco wrote the book and now we follow.

AsaCoco was brilliant from its outset. Having a place to know the ins and outs of various members of Hololive was a great way to connect the rabbit hole. But there is a deeper reason for the brilliance. I talked before about how the major tension in VTube is one between the corporate back-end tradition of Japan colliding with the audience front-end tradition of YouTube. AsaCoco is something directly in line with that second tradition. The visual language of YouTube is different from those of movies. A jump cut in a movie denotes a different idea than a jump cut on YouTube. Movie critic complaining about jump cuts in vlogs is like a Spanish reader complaining about a sentence in English being awkward. Of course it is, it’s in a different language. Unlike movies, which come from theatre and literature, vlogs’ lineage comes from news broadcasts. Many of the early web successes were styled in a news format (rocketboom, Ze Frank, What the Buck and so on…) One does not complain about the jump cut between different presenters in a newscast, and so one does not complain when a similar thing happens in vlogs. But the point is that AsaCoco harkens to the audience-based tradition.

One might write off the ARK arc as an aberration, but I think ARK did add something constructive to Hololive and VTubers as a whole. I like to think of ARK as a training wheel for Minecraft. Minecraft is relatively challenging compared to ARK. Minecraft speedruns are mildly impressive, ARK speedrun less so. ARK is actually like the middle ground between Monster Hunter and Minecraft. You can play ARK like Monster Hunter, gather a bunch of friends to hunt monsters, or like Minecraft, build your own zoo or house or so on… And in that flexibility, one can easily learn how to tell a compelling narrative in an open-world setting. Pekora’s war criminal tendencies developed there, Miko’s ‘pon’ nature was crystalized there, and so on…

Holohouse was an underrated achievement. At first, the idea feels like the natural extension of their idol nature. Idols live together, so why not virtual idols? But having virtual idols living together comes with additional benefits that Nijisanji should note.

Stalking is an awful thing, I know since I experienced and have done something similar in my past, but stalking is also a desperate thing. And desperation tends to abate when people are more open about themselves. One of the articles talking about Coco’s graduation infamously notes the mystery of Coco’s identity, which is chucklesome since Coco’s identity might be the most open secret in all of Hololive. This was in line with Hololive’s more open policy, several of Hololive members do their own personal work on the side, while in many early companies, this was forbidden. Nijisanji’s background is less open than Hololive, perhaps due to the number and less mass attention, and that leads to stalking being a more adventurous one. One that livers have to deal with more alone, while for Hololive, it’s likely people would catch and perhaps even tar the perpetrator. More attention means more risk with less excitement.

Holohouse also protects aggressive fan behavior by introducing VTuber solidarity. With more offline collabs, the people would know each other more personally and therefore have a ground of contacts in which to alert suspicious behavior. Safety in numbers.

Holohouse also brought us KanaCoco, which was a lesser known pairing until the couple ring story, and now it has become one of three big couples of Hololive, the other two being NoeFlare and OkaKoro. The big three all have a different style of their tee tee. KanaCoco is the type of a longtime buddy. Both Kanata and Coco struggled with familial and economic circumstances, and they are both struggling under the same roof. And within that struggle comes comity and friendship. It’s not love in your typical sense, but it is a type that would lead to marriage and childrens… but the current LBGTQ+ status in Japan is pretty bad, so tee tee and hush hush it is.

In a sense, KanaCoco provides for an excellent cover. It is one of the most inspiring portrayals of woman-woman friendships in media and it would be one of the more enduring aspect of Coco’s legacy as it passes down through the generations.

[Note: This somehow became an apologia of the past week. Well, I do like to show my thinking with my behavior, perhaps to my detriment, so… just be warned.]

For the past week, I was hyping about the fact that Gura passed Kizuna Ai to become the most-subscribed VTuber. And I made the point, not through immaturity, but because I realized this coincided with Coco’s graduation. Without Coco, there wouldn’t be Hololive English, or Gawr Gura, and therefore this event would not have happened. This, therefore, was one of the last great accomplishments of Coco. An indelible mark of her foresight and perseverance. A realization of her plans. So, in a sense, this was one of my ways of celebrating Coco’s career, albeit in an admittedly twisted way.

But beyond Hololive English, there was the famous Meme Review, which has a weak lineage with the early meme review series from PewDiePie. Now for the digression, whoever ends up at the top gives us a flavor for that specific era, since one naturally assumes success means finesse and would try to emulate the style. Vlogbrother’s visual style and mannerism was largely lifted from Ze Frank. PBS Idea Channel famously emulated Ray William Johnson’s background to his own ends. And Kizuna Ai was famously inspired by PewDiePie at several points in her career. Which is why PewDiePie’s Congratulations felt right as a tribute. One of the big shared characteristics of the two was the lonely years at the top. PewDiePie is probably going to be longest reigning ‘King’ of YouTube for a while (of course, depends on if Cocomelon catches T-Series in due time) and at the time his reign was abnormally long. Most people hold onto the top spot for a year or two, so it felt odd that PewDiePie was untouchable for so long. Similar things must have been raised for Kizuna Ai as well. Many people must have felt that Kizuna Ai just did not represent VTubers at the current time.

So, when competition showed up, of course people were excited. It felt like it was time. I believe PewDiePie’s Congratulations was not a simple diss track, although it’s formatted like one, just due to the culture at the time. So the hypothetical Kizuna Ai version would be extremely light-hearted. The ‘diss’ would be your typical “she’s short”, “she’s hydrodynamic” and so on… it would be clear there is no actual bad blood, and the song would be welcoming of the new era. Era, as I said before, brought on by Coco.

Back to the Meme Review, meme review was great as it centered reddit as the base for the fandom, rather than twitter, which is a horrible platform to bring a sense of communal welcomeness. Reddit is probably the best functional place for stuff like this, even though we all know it has its host of problems that needs to be resolved.

What is the most important stream in Hololive? Well, some people would point to Aqua and Coco’s The Raft stream, which is a poignant encapsulation of a stream. The dramatic counterweight to the other greatest stream in Hololive, Korone’s all-english Mario stream. Aqua and Coco are always the odd pairing, but it could have worked, and it might have been beneficial. Aqua is one of the most shy people in Hololive, and Mio is already busy with Ayame and Subaru, so the best person might have been Coco.

But China. There were two big beneficiaries from China in Hololive, one was Fubuki and the other was Aqua. While Fubuki, in Coco’s last months, famously went out of her way to intertwine herself with Coco to directly redirect her audience, like the mensch she is, Aqua always struggled with her audience retention, therefore played shy with Coco.

Edit: Well, my initial final impression was… what a wonderful finish. The interview portion was well-meant, but honestly a little formal. When the 4th Gen went together, is when the stream turned into something special for me, and the final performance was actually really well-done. Coco went out like an idol, which makes sense. For whatever provocation Coco perpetuated, Coco only did them out of love. And ultimately Cover knew that. Coco’s final month was a warning and a reminder.

Can I talk about all the different tributes lately? In some sense, Usaken Summer Festival is part of this… for an organization that is immensely popular, I just adore how Cover and their talent always has this drive to throw everything and see if it works. I noticed this during Golden Week. Golden Week in Hololive was jam packed. There were great events, Mio’s morning stream was astounding, leading to one of biggest growth spurt for Mio. Miko’s drawing collab was absolutely hilarious, for such a simple and seemingly hastily put idea. One of the people in a forum commented on this and affixed something that left my mind… what did Nijisanji during the same week? Even I was surprised by how little Nijisanji did that Golden week. They barely did anything!

The innovative spirit does give them trouble, more than it is worth, but Cover never really stopped its momentum, even when most other companies would have stopped a long time ago! This is the greatest thing about Hololive and Cover, the most redeeming feature. One that would serve them well. Coco wrote the playing book, let us pray that Cover sticks to them, because the fall of Cover comes the moment they stray.

The Pre-Coco era was about a company struggling to get their idea through. The Coco era was about writing the playing book. So the Post-Coco era will be about remembrance, it’ll be a struggle to keep the memory of what the playing book is. It’ll be about them being Hololive as they become part of the global zeitgeist.

#vtuber #hololive #kiryu coco #web talk #Thoughts

[tickle-bugs]

Playing With Fire

Summary:  Klaus likes being chased around and such after getting caught, but messing with someone and getting away with it is too good to pass up. Five does not agree. Maybe, just maybe, Klaus went a little too far.

@amazingmsme: Saw prompts are open & im real hyped for season 2 so could you maybe do a fic where Klaus just adores messing with Five? Cause Klaus is used to being a main target so he enjoys having someone he can target cause Five is usually too embarrassed to get revenge. But he keeps it up for a bit too long & Five snaps & now he’s getting revenge on him every change he gets, so Klaus is a nervous giggly wreck all the time. Their dynamic is so underrated, I just need this. You write them so well, love you!

This turned out a lot longer than I intended but I hope you like it! There are no spoilers for season 2! Enjoy :)

Five’s threshold for patience was a lot higher than one might think.

Sure, he’d curse and grumble, possibly even throw the nearest object at whoever was closest to him, but very rarely did he react boldly.

For comparison, if Diego became annoyed with one of his siblings, he’d either throw knives at them or initiate a full-scale manhunt. He considered this to be a reasonable response.

While there was fun in the chase and wondering if one day Diego might actually resort to murder if he found his knives missing again, Klaus had quickly become fond of Five and his plethora of reactions. They were a fine wine that Klaus hadn’t appreciated until recently, but as of late, he had taken the time to become better acquainted with them.

To continue with the wine metaphor, Klaus’s persistence and Five’s temper paired like red wine and stinky cheese. Which is to say, they didn’t match at all and Klaus knew jack shit about wine.

The beauty of Five was that he was often too embarrassed to enact revenge. His reputation suggested a violent outburst at the slightest inconvenience, but in reality, Five required an extraordinary progression of events to truly push his buttons.

Like today.

It had become Klaus’s personal mission to see exactly what it would take to break Five. Some would call it a death wish, but the intellectual would call it a pursuit of knowledge. 

He started with short jokes.

“How’s the weather down there?” Klaus rested an elbow on top of Five’s head and pretended to be interested in the sandwich he was making.

“Warm. It’s closer to Hell,” Five answered in perfect monotone. He pressed together a delicious peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, slicing it smoothly down the center.

“I’ve gotta hand it to you, you’re a quick thinker. Though, I have to hand everything to you.” Klaus grinned, ruffling his brother’s hair. Five disappeared from under his arm and appeared on the counter as he easily slid the peanut butter back into the cupboard. He gave Klaus a pointed stare as he jumped down.

“You’re vertically challenged.” Klaus was very quickly starting to run out of material. 

“And you’re a little bitch. Bye.” Five smiled, took his sandwich, and vanished in a flash of blue. Klaus sighed and plopped down at the kitchen table. 

“What do I do, Ben?” Klaus laid his head in his hands, massaging his temples.

“I dunno. Leave him alone?” Ben flicked Klaus in the forehead and his fingers passed straight through.

“That’s boring.”

“Why are you messing with him, anyway?”

“I just wanna push his buttons, y’know? It’s fun.”

“He’s gonna kill you.” Ben chuckled.

“Probably.”

Nicknames, though short-lived, didn’t work. Maybe it was Five’s (surprisingly) good mood, or the fact that they were loopy from a lack of sleep, but everyone actually laughed at his nickname instead of groaning.

“Hey, Hawaii Five-O. Pass the salt.”

“Oh. Oh wow,” Allison giggled, leaning her forehead on the table. 

“I’ll admit, that was...better than your others.” Five chuckled, sliding the salt shaker down the table. Klaus had been so stunned that he forgot to pursue the nicknames, though, in all fairness, it tended to be distracting when all of the siblings got along. 

In his second approach, Klaus decided to considerably up the ante. He found Five in the living room, curled up under a blanket and completely captivated in his book. 

“This looks boring,” Klaus said, pulling the book from Five’s hands. He idly flipped forward a few pages.

“Give it back,” Five growled, trying to grab the book. Klaus leaned away, taking advantage of his long arms to keep the book out of reach.

“Oh, I’m not bothering you, am I? I’d just hate to interrupt you,” Klaus draped himself over the armrest, hanging upside down and pretending to read.

“Klaus.”

“This is boring. How do you even read this? Jules Verne wishes he could write the gays like Melville could.” Klaus sat up just enough to raise an eyebrow at Five before reclining again.

Ten fingers vibrated into Klaus's stomach and he burst into laughter, folding like a lawn chair and flipping over the armrest entirely. 

“Don’t take my shit.” Five snatched his book back and disappeared in a flash of blue, leaving Klaus to his residual giggles.

Ah, sweet progress.

An hour later, Klaus bounded up the stairs, mischief bubbling in his soul. His earlier encounter with Five gave him a key piece of information. It wasn’t how he bothered Five, but for how long. 

“Hi-”

“No.” Five sighed when Klaus burst into his room.

“But-“

“No.” Five disappeared in a flash of blue. 

“You’re really rude, you know that?” Klaus huffed, catching his breath at the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t miss the way Five’s lips quirked up slightly at his misery.

“What do you want?” Five glared at him over the time of his coffee mug.

“Company? Love and affection?” Klaus leaned against the wall, trying to play off how winded he was. Were there always that many stairs? 

“Go ask Allison. She loves putting up with you, for whatever reason.”

“Again, with the rudeness. Do I really deserve it?” Klaus sighed laboriously, wedging himself between Five and the armrest of the couch, making sure to shove his toes underneath Five’s leg.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that question.” Five rolled his eyes. Klaus’s eyes glanced just behind Five, to where Ben was moving over to the coffee table. He fiddled with the rubber band on his wrist, twisting and snapping it against his wrist. Ben flickered blue for a moment.

“You’re quiet.” Five muttered.

“You say that like I never am.” Klaus scoffed, eyes trailing back to Ben. He kept trying to pick up Five’s coffee mug, but every time he tried, his hand passed through and slightly disturbed the surface of the drink. Klaus squinted, trying to concentrate enough for Ben to grab it. Another snap of the band and Ben nearly grabbed the cup, but Klaus’s concentration slipped too quick and the mug simply shifted on the table. 

“You’ve been playing with that rubber band since you sat down.” Five furrowed his brow when Klaus jumped. 

“Oh, this? It helps keep the cravings in check.” Klaus snapped it a few extra times for good measure, and Ben finally picked up the glass. Klaus didn’t take his eyes off of Five then.

“Does it help?” Five asked, so painfully sincere that it stopped Klaus in his tracks. He bit back a joke about Five caring about him—a habit, to convince himself that people did in fact care about his state of mind. 

“At times. There’s still the nights where I want to crawl out of my skin, but it helps with smaller urges,” Klaus said quietly, suddenly feeling very small. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his...problem. The most honest conversation about it had been when Diego had strapped him to that chair, weeping and writhing, a perfect picture of desperation. Even though he’d asked to be tied down, he didn’t count that as a chat. It was more of an emergency briefing.

“Klaus,” Ben whispered, awkwardly holding the mug.

“I’m sorry you went through that, if it means anything.” 

“It means everything, Five.” Klaus smiled, pretending to scratch his back. As soon as his palm left Five’s line of sight, he frantically gestured for Ben to bring the mug over. Ben slipped it into his hand with a chuckle and took a seat.

“Whatcha doing out here?”

“Just...thinking.” Five hummed, picking at the skin around his nails.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Klaus raised the mug to his lips and took a loud slurp.

“Well—“ Five’s sentence died in his throat as he caught sight of Klaus pilfering his drink. A beautiful symphony of disappointment, annoyance, and amusement played across his features, and Klaus couldn’t help the smile on his face. 

“Seriously?” Five raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you.”

“I have no clue what you mean.” Klaus bit his lip, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Five rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of Klaus’s side. He shrieked, toppling over and delivering the mug into Five’s outstretched palm. He set it aside on the table before digging properly into Klaus’s sides, melting him into a pile of flailing limbs.

“You are insufferable.” Five sighed, as if this was the hardest job in the world. Klaus screeched, trying to curl in on himself and escape. He twisted away from one of Five’s hands but he still couldn’t stop giggling. 

“I-I am a gift to humanity!” Klaus’s voice jumped into a high squeak before fading out entirely. 

“What? I can’t understand you, can you repeat that? You’re a gift to what?” Five wiggled his fingers in random intervals, pausing just long enough for Klaus to glare before starting up again. 

“Five!” Klaus squealed, shoving at his brother’s face, anything to put distance between them.  

“You’re certainly not a gift to me. Try again.” Five raised an eyebrow. 

“I said, I am a gift to-” The rest of Klaus’s sentence was lost to his own wild laughter when Five dug into his stomach, making sure to pinch, prod, and scribble over every inch he could. 

“You’re a pest.” Five gave Klaus’s hips a final squeeze and he fell off the couch, head thunking against the floor before the rest of his body slid down like a wet noodle. His legs were still propped awkwardly on the couch, making him look like the world’s most exhausted pin-up girl, until Five tickled his feet and made him drop his legs. Klaus pulled himself up, still buzzing and grinning.

“If you still wanna talk, I’m all ears.” Klaus ruffled Five’s hair, not even bothered when Five smacked his hand away. He didn’t miss the smile on Five’s face when he teleported away. 

Eating dinner made Klaus feel like the greatest man alive. He’d done it, he’d carefully driven Five to his breaking point, and lived to talk about it. Now, eating mac and cheese across from his adversary, he had earned his place as the god he was. 

“There’s a proverb that I find interesting.” He said, waving his fork to claim the attention of his siblings. He glanced over Five’s shoulder and grinned when he saw Ben taking a mug down from the cabinet. All according to plan. 

“Care to share with the class?” Five glanced up from his plate.

“‘It takes two to make a thing go right. It takes two to make it outta sight.’ Insightful, don’t you think?” Klaus chuckled. Vanya giggled, bright and sweet, and he waggled his eyebrows at her so she’d do it again.

“Your point is...?” Five glared.

“Well, it takes two to make the perfect cup of cocoa. With marshmallows.” Klaus smirked, and Ben giggled quietly at the look on Five’s face. 

“No!” Five stood, slamming his palms on the table. 

“Yep. Thank you, Ben. You’re so thoughtful.” Klaus smiled, taking the mug from Ben. 

“It’s your funeral.” Ben rolled his eyes. Five growled and swiped a butter knife from the table.

“Five, sit down and drop the knife.” Allison glared.

“Allison-”

“Now.” She gestured towards his chair and Five slowly sunk back into it, his eyes never leaving Klaus. 

“Klaus, stop it.” Allison hissed, slapping his shoulder. Klaus shrugged and sipped his cocoa, pretending not to notice how Five’s body was trembling with rage.

“Yeah, Klaus, listen to mom.” Diego snickered, sticking his tongue out. The look Allison gave him could shatter glass. 

“Guys-” Vanya murmured.

“Enough! No fighting during dinner. After dinner? Do what you want.” Allison waved her hand with a sigh. Klaus couldn’t help but steal glances every few seconds. It was delicious, watching Five tussle with Allison’s meaningless rules. Every time Five slammed a utensil down or clenched his fists, Klaus slurped louder, making direct eye contact. 

“What is happening?” Vanya looked between her brothers, scooting her chair back on instinct. 

“Does it matter? I’m sure we’re about to find out, anyway,” Diego muttered. Five started eating faster and so did Klaus, both racing to finish their plates before the other could get up. Klaus made it out the kitchen just seconds before Five got up from the table, screaming bloody murder. 

Actions. Actions have consequences.

Klaus bolted through the hall, screeching to a stop by the upstairs reading nook. He looked around for another path of escape. He could jump over the railing, but it’d be harder to run with broken ankles.

“He is definitely gonna kill you now.” Ben sat on the railing and kicked his legs, looking far too smug for an accomplice. 

“Shut up, Ben!” Klaus sprinted for the bedrooms but Five cut him off. He sauntered forwards, hands in his pockets, and okay, maybe it was a little intimidating.

“Five, wait!” Klaus held out his hands, already giggling, stalling for tradition’s sake.

“I’m sorry, Klaus. I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’ve crossed a line.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”

“Yes, you will.” Five grinned, wiggling his fingers towards Klaus as he bolted. Five teleported onto Klaus’s back and they both toppled over, cursing and grappling with each other. Five managed to get an arm around Klaus’s neck, scribbling at whatever patches of neck he could until his brother was doing more laughing than fighting.

“N-Noho!” Klaus latched onto Five’s arm and started to pull away, but Five teleported on top of him before the seer could go anywhere. Something in Klaus’s soul flared, some combination of excitement and anticipation that made him want to extend the chase before he was truly caught.

Earlier was fun, but this was exactly what he was looking for. This was the true breaking point, the complete loss of patience that yielded its own specific blend of revenge. This was a real victory. Point to Klaus, and all that.

“I was saving those marshmallows for myself! How dare you?” Five dug into Klaus’s lower stomach and he arched his back, immediately falling into cackles. 

“Next time, ghost-proof them--wait!” He threw his hands up again but Five slipped past, shoving his hands under Klaus’s arms with terrifying accuracy. 

“Wait for what, hm? Wait for my marshmallows to come back?” 

“Ben did it, not me!” Klaus punctuated the accusation with a snort. He covered his face and groaned before falling into giggles again.

“Hey!” Ben wiggled his fingers over Klaus’s sides and oh no, he could feel it. It was an incredible breakthrough in the powers department, but also terribly inconvenient—and tickly. Every finger felt like ten more, light and wispy and buzzing in every inch of his stomach. 

“Well, I can’t get Ben, can I?” Five asked over Klaus’s sudden laughter, not even noticing he wasn’t causing it. 

“What if you could? I’ve been practicing making him tangible. We could make a deal?” Klaus’s tattoos glowed a faint blue as he held his hands out towards Ben, who started to flicker into the visible spectrum. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Ben snagged Klaus’s forearm and fluttered his nails up towards the palm, tracing over the letters of the tattooed ‘Hello’ until Klaus was a puddle on the floor. 

“Tempting, but I’d rather hear you scream instead.” Five managed to get a hand under Klaus’s knee, and oh fuck, he was going to die here. 

Ben seemed to have no intentions of letting up, because he took Klaus’s other hand, making sure to give it the same unbearable treatment. It wasn’t fair—no one knew about that spot, but of course Ben knew. Ben always knew way too much.

“I know what you were doing today. You aren’t sneaky.” Five said casually, as if he wasn’t taking Klaus apart. He moved his fingers up a little higher, just above the back of Klaus’s knee. Klaus screamed and he flipped  himself over, trying to crawl away from Five. 

“Oh, you must really like this spot! Should I keep going?” Five sat on Klaus’s calf, scratching in maddening patterns over that one spot that sent Klaus flailing like a live wire.

“No!” He managed to squeal, wiggling like a worm pulled from the earth. Ben chuckled and let go of Klaus’s hand. 

“If you insist.” Five grabbed Klaus’s ankle and fluttered his fingers over the sole, following the twitching foot with killer intent. Klaus’s laughter jumped a few octaves and he covered his face.  

“Aww. This is adorable.” Ben sat near Klaus’s other foot. He tried to grab at it but his hand kept passing through—Judging by the noise Klaus made, it wasn’t in vain.

“Stop it! Shut up!” Klaus slapped at the air behind him and missed both brothers.

“Mm, no,” Five and Ben said in unison, both having far too much fun with their captive. Ben just kept moving his hand through Klaus’s foot, delighted by the range of squeals and frantic giggles he got with each twitch of a finger.

“Please!” Klaus wheezed, laying a cheek on the hardwood as he resigned to die. 

“And finally, he begs.” With a final twitch of his fingers, Five stood. He stretched and sighed, cracking a few things as if he’d been doing hard work. Klaus’s snarky jab—something about Five being old—turned into weak chuckles before it could leave his mouth.

“Happy?” Five gently squeezed the back of Klaus’s neck and he giggled tiredly.

“I think I will die here now.”

“You’re in the way,” Five frowned. He touched Klaus’s arm and he faintly registered a flash of blue. His face came in contact with a soft, shaggy rug and—oh, they were in his room. 

“Here. Now, quit bugging me.” Five stepped over Klaus’s body and shut the door on his way out. Klaus smiled and chuckled to himself. 

Experiment complete.

#my fics #bug’s greatest hits #The Umbrella Academy #tua #ticklish!klaus #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #im not really gonna tag the family since they only show up for a little bit #ler five anyone?

[megan-is-mia]

Hiya! may I please ask for 16 in manipulative for Yandere Cater please he's underrated

(I know this was requested before the Halloween outfits came out and I had this filled with a short drabble but I got bit by a plot bunny about Halloween Cater not respecting boundaries and it turned into something four times the length of the original fill. Please forgive me!) 16. “If you’re not going to talk, I’ll make it so that you can’t.” (Yandere! Cater Diamond x Fem! S/o)

As a young girl (Y/n) had heard the stories about the ghoulish gravewalker who roamed the church graveyard on stormy nights. How he was supposedly not entirely human, able to create duplicates of himself as easily as one might snap their fingers. The stories said that if you saw him that you better run and pray he didn't catch you else he bury you alive and screaming for mercy in his unholy domain. (Y/n) knew this yet she still ventured out to pay her respects to her dearly departed husband. They’d been childhood sweethearts, married for less than two years before a tragic accident stole her love from this world. Like clock-work, (Y/n) would visit his grave each week with a bouquet of flowers and tell him of her life without him. This visit would mark the one year anniversary of his passing and the stormy weather fit her mood perfectly. “Oh, Matthew the pain of losing you still plagues me every night. Some of your friends have offered to wed me so I will not live in disgrace as a young widow anymore but I cannot yet bear to become a happy bride again. Not when I still weep at the sight of the ring you gave me for our engagement after you finished your apprenticeship” (Y/n) spoke sadly as she set the lilies on her beloved tombstone and knelt to sit before the grave. “A beauty such as you should not be left to mourn so” A voice said from behind (Y/n), her head whipped around as she tried to blink away the raindrops that were blurring her vision. The speaker was obviously male by his voice but she couldn't make out any detail on his attire other than it being black as the night sky above them. “Pardon my interruption Ms (L/n) but I couldn't help but notice how down you looked. Even more so than usual” the man added. “Who are you sir? How do you know my last name?” (Y/n) said in a puzzled tone as she held a hand over her eyes to block some of the rain so she could see the man better and perhaps identify him. She was better able to see him without all the rain in her eyes but she could still not put a finger on who he was. He was wearing a hat with a veil attached to it making it difficult to see his face but a pair of green eyes stared down at her through the fabric. “My name is Cater Diamonds, my fair lady, I’m the gravekeeper of this cemetery among other things. And I assumed that (L/n) was your last name because it is Matthew (L/n)’s grave I see you visiting each week. You look too young to be his mother and you do not resemble the man enough to be his sister. So I must assume you are his late wife, correct?” Cater said with a wide grin that was visible through his veil. “Yes you would be correct in that assumption, I am his wife. And Matthew was the love of my life- is the love of my life even though he has passed. I know I must accept that he is gone forever and find myself a new husband but I cannot bear to do it. He is the only man I have ever loved, how can any new relationship compare to the bond we formed since childhood?” (Y/n) wasn't sure why she was rambling to Cater but it made her feel better. “Then I suppose the only thing you can do is find a husband who is more than a simple man. And in that pursuit I can assist you Ms (L/n)” Cater said, bending down and then sitting on the ground beside (Y/n). He stared at the young woman who only stared back at him with an owlish look and an agape mouth. “Forgive my forwardness but I have fallen madly in love with you over these past twelve months since your husband’s funeral” Cater added with a soft sigh. “But, we have only just met, I do not know you well enough for that” (Y/n) protested her face turning red with embarrassment at how abrupt this strange man’s declaration of love was especially when he’d also admitted to essentially stalking her when she was in her most vulnerable state of grief. She shivered at the thought that he might have heard her ramblings about how much she missed her husband and her desire to be reunited with him in death.

“Ah, but I know you (Y/n) I know you better than anyone else in this little town does” Cater said, leaning in close to the young woman’s face, making it easy for her to see the glow in his eye and the almost unnatural angle of his smile. “I know you even better than that foolish husband of yours. He did not deserve such a treasure as you, I will not be as foolhardy as him” he added grabbing (y/n)’s hand and holding it gently. “You go too far sir, I do not wish to speak to you any longer” (Y/n) said angrily, her face turning even redder now from fury as she yanked her hand away from the man and got to her feet with a huff. She would just have to come back to the graveyard another night when this rude man was not present and she could speak to her deceased love in peace. She began to walk towards the cemetery exit when she heard Cater let out a chuckle. “I wouldn't be so hasty (Y/n)” Cater said, making the young woman stop dead in her tracks before she forced herself back into motion to leave the graveyard with her dignity intact. “Don't ignore me, sweetheart. If you’re not going to talk, I’ll make it so that you can’t” this threat made (Y/n)’s stomach churl and she began walking a bit faster until eventually, she had broken into a sprint towards the cemetery gates. 

Cater was right on her heels, easily keeping up with her as she tried to flee from him. She was so focused on keeping distance from him that she didn't see an obstacle suddenly pop up in the archway of the gate and she crashed into it with a painful thud. Whatever the thing was it was grappy and she was held in place by… Cater? When she looked back she could see him walking up behind her, but when she looked down there he was with his arms around her.

“Nobody can escape the grim reaper you know, and no one can escape my shovel once I’ve seen them transpassing in this graveyard” both Caters said in unison. “I cannot let anyone escape, not even a pretty soul like you (Y/n) it is my duty to collect the souls of those who break the rules” he added the sound jumping between the two versions of him and terrifying (Y/n) to such a degree she couldn't do anything but quiver. “Don't be so frightened love, every rule has a loophole after all” the Cater who’d been chasing her said as he reached his clone and (Y/n). “If I make you my wife, then you’ll be under the same obligations as I but also be granted the same protections from the grim reaper” the Cater who was holding her continued for his copy. “All the dead below are ready to witness our union and make it legally binding” the original Cater finished as he grabbed (Y/n) from himself. “All you got to do is say ‘I do’ and give me a kiss. But I warn you if you turn down this offer, I swear that I will spend the rest of eternity keeping that pathetic human whelp of a husband you had away from you in the underworld. So think carefully about what you want to have happen love” Cater said, hugging (Y/n) close as his duplicate faded into the ground below them as if he'd never existed at all. “I…” (Y/n) trailed off, did she really want to go through with this? Agreeing to be wed to a madman who wasn't even human? Was it better to deny him in this moment and try to escape his clutches again? No, deep down she knew the answer was no. She was outmatched and all she could do is try and accept that. “...I do” she finally said, feeling her insides clench as she did so. “Wonderful, now for a kiss to seal the deal~”  Cater said gleefully moving one hand to his head to remove his hat and veil, giving (Y/n) her first real view of his ghostly white complexion and his heavily ringed eyes before he closed the distance between them by pressing his lips against hers. His kiss, was truly the kiss of death. (Y/n) could feel him draining the life from her and her eyes fell shut. She’d awake soon after deep in a coffin under the earth with Cater smiling down at her as he welcomed her to her new reality as an gravewalker's wife… THE END

#Yandere Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere Cater Diamond #Cater Diamond

[btschooseafic]

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva meets a handsome college student, Seokjin. [Masterlist]

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts.

Track 4: Enter, Kim Seokjin

Confident - Demi Lovato

“So you say I’m complicated, that I must be out of my mind

But you’ve had me underrated”

Aviva was almost running late one morning, so she had to skip breakfast. She was sitting at the conference room table, counting down the hours until her lunch break when Jungsook entered the room.

“Aviva-ssi. There’s a college student we are trying to get to come in and audition, but we’re having trouble reaching him. Do you think you could go visit the campus and speak to him?”

Aviva glanced at the clock on the wall. At this rate, she was going to miss lunch as well.

“…Yes, Chief Jungsook.”

“Good, here’s the file.”

Aviva was frustratingly late getting on both the train, and the bus after that too the campus. As she was getting off the bus, she noticed the man in front of her drop his wallet. His ID card was at the front. Kim Seokjin, born 1992. Aviva blinked, recognizing the name as the man she was looking for. She looked up—he was already starting to walk away.

“Wait!” Aviva called, rushing after him. He started running, so she did too. After several blocks of confused running, the student stopped, his face flushed as he took deep breaths, resting his hands on his knees. Aviva was huffing a bit as well, in the heat of the summer sun. “Why did you… run?”

“You were chasing me like a whole pack of wolves,” Seokjin said accusingly. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Sorry.” Aviva bowed her head slightly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just really wanted to catch up to you—you dropped this.” She held his wallet out to him.

Seokjin’s face turned even redder. “Ah. Well…” He rubbed his chin and then took his wallet, inclining his head. “Thank you. I misread the situation. I’ll just, ah, go, now…” He turned.

“Wait!” Aviva said again. “That’s not all. I also wanted to—I mean, I’m an assistant from Big Hit Entertainment, Chen Aviva, age 18. We have been trying to contact you to ask if you want to audition, but we haven’t been able to get in touch.”

He blinked at her. “Big Hit? That was a serious offer? I thought it was a joke.” He smiled sheepishly. “Well, you’re not the first agency to speak to me, but you might be the most memorable!” Aviva felt her face growing hot as well. “You can’t pass by without doing a double-take at my face, after all.” Aviva chuckled awkwardly, not sure if he was joking or not, but just glad their misunderstanding had been cleared up now.

“So, if you would like to take a look at this flyer…” Aviva took a folder out of her bag, and handed him an audition flyer. “It has most details.” She handed him her card. “You can contact me if you have any further questions.”

“Ah—I have one already,” Seokjin said. “This says audition for a Hip Hop group—I would rather try as an actor, are there any positions for that available?”

Aviva’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think we’re looking for any actors at the moment. More so we have a goal to form a new group. We haven’t narrowed down the members yet, so we are still holding auditions.”

“I see.” Seokjin sighed.

“Sorry,” Aviva said again.

“It’s fine—let’s not be disappointed!” He clapped his hands together dramatically. “Maybe if I show up with my handsome looks, they’ll change their minds!” Then his stomach growled. “Sorry.” He flushed. “I was heading to lunch.”

“It’s okay,” Aviva said. “I understand. I haven’t eaten today, so—“

“Eh?” Seokjin said, his eyes widening. “Why not? Wait…” He pulled off his bag and dug around for a moment before coming up with two rolls of kimbap in plastic wrap. “I was saving this for an afternoon snack, but it looks like you could use it more.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Aviva said, dipping her head slightly. “I don’t want to deprive you of your—“

“I insist,” Seokjin said, holding it out to her, frowning. “It’s a gift.”

Aviva sighed and took it with two hands. Jungsook had lectured her many times on not accepting gifts. While refusing would have been politer at home, she had been told it was the other way around here.

“Thank you,” she said honestly. “I will eat well.”

While Aviva was pleased to hear that Seokjin had auditioned and made it through, others were becoming nervous as BPB brought on more singers and fewer rappers. Donghyuk was cut from the group, but agreed to stick around as a producer when Bang Sihyuk offered him a position. Hunchul left Big Hit to pursue real hip hop music.

#bts #bts world #bts x oc #kim seokjin #seokjin x oc #manager!oc #bts predebut #idolverse #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #hey you what's your dream

[theshinsun]

KNB for the fandom ask thing if you’d like to!!

(sorry this took forever, work was crazy this week ;;-;;)

send me a fandom and i’ll tell you…

the first character i ever fell in love with:

Kagami. (I know, right?) I started watching the show when I saw the way he was drawn, and came to really love his character throughout seasons 1 and 2. 

Side note: I really only fell in love with Aomine once I saw how he looked in the manga, and got more into his backstory in late season 2/early season 3. 

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not:

Idk I used to like, unironically like Himuro, and subscribe to canon’s endgame portrayal of him as a harmless nice guy (with no personality to speak of). Now I like him, but like... only in the sense that he can be used narratively, and to comedic effect. I also still like his play style, but I don’t like him like, as a person.

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not:

I don’t really wanna bash any ship in this show, since the characters are loose (read: underdeveloped) enough for their actual ship dynamics to kinda be up for interpretation. 

The one example I can think of, though, for a ship I used to enjoy that now kinda bothers me, is KiKasa. I just don’t see much genuine affection between these two, and yeah I get that people show their love in different ways and all that, and there is definitely something there to work with if you read between the lines, but still... I dunno in canon it mostly seems one-sided at best and antagonistic at worst to me.

my ultimate favorite character™:

...C’mon, you know who it is. The number one spot has to go to Aomine, every time. Someday I’ll write a whole in-depth character study to explain why, but if you want the thesis statement, it’s this: Aomine is the most interesting, developed and multi-faceted character in the entire series, and you can fight me on that.

prettiest character:

If we’re talking manga, then Aomine, but since he looks like a raisin in the anime, I have to give the award to Midorima, with Mibuchi coming in a close second.

my most hated character:

Heh. Uh... funny story, it used to be Hanamiya, or possibly Haizaki, but now I think my hatred for Akashi has actually surpassed them both, because we’re meant to dislike them so at least they serve their most basic function. Whereas Akashi’s arc is so forced and anticlimactic it’s infuriating, and that’s before even getting into his personality.  

my OTP:

You know what, it’s still AoKaga. After six fucking years, they still have my heart. If I can bend the rules and slip in an OT3, I’d say AoKagaKuro, but otherwise, if I had to pick one ship, it’s those two idiots with their rival dynamic, interesting chemistry and essential narrative function of pushing each other to get better. 

my NOTP:

Like I said, I don’t want to bash any ship, but if I have to pick one that just grinds my gears, it’s AkaKuro. I just... don’t get it. I mean, I get it, I know why it exists, but I don’t get it, you know? 

...I dunno, if that’s your cup of tea, more power to ya, but I personally don’t ship it and I don’t think I’m ever going to. 

favorite episode:

Episode 37: I Look Forward To It. 

Ah, the onsen episode... I know this one by heart. 

Okay, I guess I should explain myself, because on the surface this looks like pure empty fan-service (on both sides), but this episode actually has some really great character and plot-related moments. It’s the part I always jump back into when I re-read the manga, because it’s where things really start to kick off. Seirin’s been beaten down and hopeless and finally have their chance at revenge, and they find out in this episode that they’re going to be getting it right away. There’s some really great Seirin and Touou bonding, some more evidence of Momoi being a data-gathering badass (though her actual appearance in this ep bombs the Bechdel test and kinda just rubs me the wrong way). 

My favorite part, though, is Aomine and Kuroko’s confrontation in the bath house. I’ve heard someone say once (and I agree) that this episode shows a whole team of naked men (and two naked women) and yet the scene with the most sexual tension has everyone fully clothed. It’s also just a super emotionally-charged moment, full of saying things without saying them, and Kagami showing up to declare Seirin’s intentions of victory is the cherry on top. I love this episode, I’ve probably watched it about a hundred times, but I’d gladly watch it a hundred more and that tells me it’s my favorite.  

saddest death:

Himuro’s character development. I mean uh... Kiyoshi’s leg breaking, yeah, that’s totally it. Actually, him leaving at the end of season 3 is really sad, we don’t get many third years retiring in this show but that hit just as hard.

favorite season:

Season 2. It’s where the show kicks into high gear, and the plot really gets rolling. It’s well-paced and exciting up until the middle of the Yousen game, and shows so much awesome development for the characters it introduced in the previous season. Everyone gets some new abilities, but my favorite reveals have to be Kuroko’s Vanishing Drive and Overflow (that moment when Izuki gets “erased” in the Seirin/Touou game lives in my head rent free), and of course the Zone. Season 1 is nice and season 3 has some really iconic moments, but season 2 is great from start to (almost) finish, and that makes it the strongest of the bunch.

least favorite season:

As I said, it has some iconic moments, but KNB’s weakest season by far is its finale. For one thing, it focuses almost entirely on a single game, and so that game drags on forever, beyond the realm of enjoyment until it becomes tedious to get through. Besides that, though, it goes out of its way to introduce plot threads and characters that don’t really go anywhere (Haizaki and Ogiwara come to mind...) the animation budget takes a noticeable beating, and so do the trajectories of two of Season 2′s most interesting antagonists (Himuro and Akashi). The main saving grace of this season is the Teiko arc, but, enjoyable as it is, under a critical eye it’s still a lengthy, pretty unnecessary detour that stops the main narrative dead in its tracks and all but kills the tension for the final game.  

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate:

Would it be gratuitous to say Akashi, at this point? It’s funny, because I never really liked him, and didn’t understand why so many people did, but I never had any strong opinions about him until recently, when I started looking at his character up close bc I’ve run out of reasons not to. Again, if you like him, that’s totally fine, but I just can’t agree.

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave:

Uhh... Imayoshi, I think. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but I love him so much. He’s a shit, and he knows it, but he’s also smart, and funny, and kind of just a big dork? Severely underrated character, with a really unique look (I don’t care if he doesn’t have eyes except when he’s pissed, it’s good character design, you guys are just mean). 

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave:

Oh, Kuroko... sidelined in your own damn show. I’ve heard people argue that Kuroko is not the protagonist of KNB, and in fact it’s Kagami, and just... whether that’s true or not technically, it just makes me sad for Kuroko bc once again he’s being overlooked in favor of other, more flashy characters on screen. Maybe that’s the point, but still, I don’t see this guy get nearly enough attention considering his name is in the fucking title. Kuroko is every bit as valid and interesting as the other GoM, and the other members of Seirin, often even more so, and he deserves all the love.

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship:

Pretty much anything with Haizaki, but because this is me we’re talking about... AoHai. I used to be interested purely from a hatefucking standpoint, but recently I’ve seen some art and short little ficlets, and... have started to maybe ship it... unironically? Um. Yeah, so that happened.

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship:

KiKuro. I don’t think I’ve really talked about them before, I love their backstory and dynamic, and I tend to write them together off on the sidelines, but I’m not very passionate about this one. Maybe because it is often used as a background ship, maybe because they both work better with other people (side tangent: their dynamic instantly becomes more interesting the second you throw a third person in the mix... doesn’t matter who it is either, KiKuroKaga? AoKiKuro? KiKuroMomo? I could go on) Idk. It’s sweet, but I don’t often give this pairing a whole lot of thought on its own, maybe I ought to...

#shin speaks #answered #knb #i can't get into these things without giving long detailed answers anymore can I #side effect of analyzing my favorite show and breaking it down until I barely recognize it I guess #I've got a full essay on the successes and downfalls of KNB coming in a bit #so uh #prepare for that #thanks for asking! I hope this doesn't piss anyone off too much #lmao

[collecting-stories]

Small Talk - Daryl Dixon

EPPP!! This is my FIRST EVER request. I am so excited.😁😁 So I wanted to request "You Are In Love" by Taylor Swift with Daryl Dixon, pretty please? 😊😍 P.s- Am I the only one who thinks this song is very underrated? - @ohmagawd-life

\\\

And for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts - You Are In Love, Taylor Swift

“Don’t think I got one,” Daryl mused, digging an arrow further into the mud. Why you insisted on aggravating him with stupid questions was beyond his comprehension but he’d be lying if he said it really bothered him.  

You’d volunteered to take watch with him tonight while everyone else got some sleep. Winter was setting in and so were Lori’s terrible mood swings, agitated at everything so spectacularly that no one really wanted to be around her right now. To make it all worse the only shelter viable for the night was a rundown looking trailer in the woods. Daryl had jumped on night watch, if only to get out of the suffocating small trailer that you were all stuffed into. He took up a spot in the front of the trailer, sitting on the small porch and digging an arrow through the mud. It was quiet, and had been for the last four days but Lori was hellbent on moving instead of trying to rest and soon you knew you would run out of places to stay.  

“Mind if I join you?” You asked, closing the door and latching the screen before making your way over to Daryl. The sun was already set and the night was well under way. Rick was going to go on watch and you knew he was eager to get away from Lori, you could see it on his face, but you were eager to spend some time with Daryl away from curious eyes.  

He shook his head, a silent ‘I never do’ though he played the part of annoyed pretty well. Tonight he looked indifferent but he watched from the corner of his eye as you lowered yourself to sit next to him. It was starting to get cold and you had found a hoodie inside to wrap yourself in. Daryl reached over with one hand and pulled the hood up over your head, pushing your hair into your face.  

“Stop,” you laughed, nudging him with your elbow and pushing both hood and hair out of your face. “I bet you were that annoying kid who pestered people all the time when you were little.”  

“Don’t know what yer on about.” He replied, grinning as you jumped off the porch, wiping your hands over your sides. When you looked back at him he was holding the arrow he’d been digging with, waving it to indicate that he’d prodded you with it.  

“Seriously,” You huffed, climbing back up and putting some distance between the two of you.

Reaching over, Daryl grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled on it, indicating that he wanted you back beside him. You shuffled over, thigh brushing against his. The hand that was holding your shirt let go, smoothing along your back before pulling away to settle on dragging his arrow through the dirt again. You turned your upper body more toward him to rest your head on his shoulder and tucked your cold hands into the pocket on your hoodie. Daryl’s skin was cool beneath your cheek. While Daryl could just sit and watch and wait you were never able to keep yourself occupied, constantly shifting around. Even now you pulled your leg up, rest your knee against his lap and tucking your foot under your other thigh. Daryl knew you well enough to know in ten more minutes you’d be fidgeting again but he said nothing about it and just put a hand on your knee instead.  

“You think it’ll be cold in the morning?”

“How should I know?”

“You can track and stuff,” you shrugged, “figured you could like, read the weather and shit too.”

“Yer a pain in my ass ya know that?” He asked, tilting his head slightly and kissing the top of your hair.

“Hey,” you shifted slightly so you could look at him, “that’s a compliment, you should be flattered I think so highly of you.”

He only rolled his eyes. “Why’d ya wanna know?”

“Cause I saw a river not too far from here and I wanted to wash up.” You shrugged, “my hair is getting greasy and you could use a wash too.”  

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a little gross.” You reply, wrinkling your nose for effect.

Daryl shrugged, “then don’t sleep in my sleeping bag with me.” He said it matter of factly, like the sleeping bag was just an agreement between the two of you and not anything more but he would be terrified if you suddenly stopped sleeping next to him. He could go down a rabbit hole of possibilities when his insecurity really got the best of him and even pretending to be indifferent didn’t help. Was it bothering you? Were you going to sleep somewhere else? Would you stop going on watch with him?

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, “you’re lucky I like you so much,” you teased, “and that my feet get cold when I sleep alone.”  

“I got a pair of wool socks from the last house in my bag, if ya want ‘em.” He’d grabbed them from the master bedroom as Rick was calling everyone to head out. They looked hand sewn and he knew with the weather getting worse, your hands and feet would get cold faster.  

“You’re too good to me.” You insisted and it was too dark to see the faint blush that lit up Daryl’s face but you did feel the light squeeze he gave your knee in response. You snuck a quick kiss to his bare arm before turning away, “I don’t know how you’re out here without a jacket.”

“It’s over there.” He nodded his head toward the door behind you and you turned to find his jacket laying across the porch bench.  

“It’s cold Daryl.” You lifted his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders and hugging his waist.  

“Keeps ya awake, we’re supposed ta be watching fer geeks.” He replied, turning his head just enough to kiss your forehead.  

“Oh, that reminds me!” You pulled away, his hand dragging across your shoulders and back as you stood up, almost as if he was reluctant to let you go. And truthfully, he was.  

Daryl tried to act as indifferent as he could, knowing that the reality of this world didn’t guarantee anyone any sort of confirmed happiness. In the short time that he’d known you he’d lost his brother, Rick had almost lost Carl, Carol had lost Sophia, Andrea had lost Amy, and they had all lost Dale and Andrea. He was familiar with loss and he knew it was just a symptom of this world, so he was reluctant to let himself feel anything. But when he was with you it was impossible to keep up the charade of indifference. When he’d heard you pipe up to volunteer for night-watch with him, he’d been unable to stop himself from smiling.  

He couldn’t exactly remember when things between the two of you had started. Or when you’d gone from being just some girl at the camp and become more important to him than that. He thought it had something to do with the overwhelming amount of affection you seemed to have on hand. Daryl hated to admit it but he looked forward to the simple touches, a brush of your hand against his arm, a kiss to his cheek, the way you held his hand in your sleep when the two of you had started sharing a tent at Hershel’s farm.  

“Look,” you stood behind him, leaning over and dangling the carafe of coffee in front of him. “Coffee.”

“How long’s it been in there?” He asked, grinning as he took the container from you.

“I made it. Glenn made that fire earlier and I boiled some water for coffee. Keep us up.” You informed him.  

In another instant you were sitting down beside him again and he realized that not only had you gotten the coffee but you were now wearing his jacket over the stolen hoodie. You left another kiss to his cheek and huddled close again. Maybe more optimistic than Daryl you were not at all indifferent to him. Everyone knew that he was your favorite person long before he realized it. Glenn had teased you mercilessly over your crush when it was just that, silent yearning that he would maybe get the hint that you were interested in him. You weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten here either, sharing sleeping bags and staying up late, you talked about silly things and he listened intently. It was a far cry from being too nervous to speak to him.  

You watched him swallow a gulp of coffee, biting your lip to stop a laugh when he grimaced, “sorry, I like it strong.”

“I’ll be up for another month now.” He commented, handing the container back to you.  

Once you had the coffee securely between your thighs Daryl wrapped his arm around you again, the chill of his skin raising goosebumps when you held his hand. “You should take your jacket, I don’t want you to be cold.”  

“I ain’t cold.”

“Yeah but you wouldn’t tell me if you were cold, you’d just sit there and freeze like the caveman from Scooby-Doo.” You replied. When he looked your way, incredulous and slightly bemused, you kissed him. “You have seen at least one episode of Scooby-Doo right?”

Daryl shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I used to watch it all the time with my best friend Ally. It was about a talking dog who used to solve like, crimes. Like people thought there were ghosts but it was just the banker or the lawyer or somebody scaring people off.” You replied, turning in closer to him. Daryl could tell you were starting to get sleepy, even with the coffee. You always started talking about nonsense when you were tired.  “Who was your best friend?”  

“Don’t think I got one.” He shrugged, digging his arrow into the mud with his free hand.  

“Everyone has a best friend.” You mused, “you’re mine.”

“Thought that was Ally.” He teased, lifting your hood over your head again.  

“When I was eight!”  

Inside the trailer you could hear movement. Daryl shifted slightly, his arm dropping from your shoulders as the door opened. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with whatever this was going on between the two of you. It felt stupid to call it a relationship, people couldn’t even properly have those with the world being the way that it was now. And you certainly weren’t the giddy, sneaking off to the barn, types like Maggie and Glenn. Still, when everyone else was around Daryl still got shy about his affection, keeping a little distance between the two of you despite everyone knowing that it was more than friendship or situational tolerance that had you sharing the same sleeping mats or staying up on watch together or going out to hunt. Though you contributed little to hunting other than moral support.  

Before the screen door could open you stole one last kiss from Daryl. He grinned but then the door opened and he was turning to see who had come outside.  

You looked behind you to see Rick, T-Dog after him. “Hey, you two wanna get some sleep?” He asked. It wasn’t near morning yet, maybe a few hours until the sun officially came up but you imagined Rick was restless and would rather this than be inside.  

“Sounds good.” You nodded, handing your coffee over to Daryl and standing up. You went to the door first, holding it open as Daryl got up and walked passed you into the tiny trailer. Before you’d gone out on watch you’d spread the sleeping bag and two blankets out in the corner of the room, beneath the front window and close to the door. You weren’t a fan of being so close to the outside but you knew Daryl would want to be by the door in case anyone needed anything or any walkers made their way towards camp. “Home sweet home,” you whispered, glancing back at him with a smile.  

Another roll of the eyes before the door shut and you couldn’t see anymore. While Daryl kicked off his shoes and laid down you took your time getting ready. At the farm he’d teased you mercilessly the first time you stayed in his tent because you insisted on taking off your jeans and your bra to sleep. Even now as you pulled your bra out from under your hoodie and folded it on top of your jeans you heard him criticizing you.

“Yer gonna get bit one day, insisting on not sleeping ready.” He commented as you got between him and the wall.  

“That’s why you sleep on the outside.” You whispered back, kissing his cheek. You pulled the blankets up to your chin and shifted so you were partially facing the wall, head on his arm.

“Trying ta get rid a me.” He muttered, pulling your body close to his.  

“Never.” You snuggled further into the cocoon of Daryl and blankets. Once morning came he’d be up and, most likely, hunting, while you were still trying to get one last minute of sleep in. How he managed to wake up early every morning without an alarm was beyond you but you thought maybe it was just because he was such a light sleeper.  

You closed your eyes, tucking your head further into the blanket when your nose got cold and listening to the quiet sound of Glenn snoring from across the room, trying to lull yourself to sleep. Daryl had shifted you into a spooning position already and you pulled the arm that was around your waist up so you could hold his hand and place a kiss there to his skin. Colder than he’d told you he was.

“I knew you were cold.”

For a moment there was no answer and you thought maybe for once in the short time that you’d gotten to know Daryl he had fallen asleep before you but then he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.  

“Thought about what you said,” he whispered, voice barely there in the darkness. Typically, changing the subject.

“About what?” You hadn’t stopped talking from the moment you got outside.

“You’re my best friend too.”  

You turned your face into the arm under your head, smile so wide he could feel it against his skin and he smiled himself from the knowledge that he’d said something to make you happy. Indifference out the window and without the burden of having to know exactly what it was the two of you were to each other he was confident in the knowledge that you were his favorite person and that was plenty for both of you.  

-

A/N: So I hope you like this, I just really wanted it to be like, one insignificant but defining moment in a relationship instead of just a chronology of how they got to a certain point. Like I just wanted to reflect that feeling of soft unconditional love that I get every time I listen to the song. So yeah, hope you like it. 

taglist: @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @medievalfangirl @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @born-in-19-96  @mainokutan @uh-i-think-its-frank @nikki082489 @qrangr  

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #twd fanfic #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

[tsarinastorm]

Until Somebody Stops Having Fun-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit

You met Adam at a party at the bookstore you owned. The bookstore would host poetry nights, book clubs, release parties, and numerous other events. You were even working on developing an app for your store to help bring it into the twenty-first century. You had moved to New York on a whim, deciding to pursue writing yourself, then you ended up merging writing with your legal background to become a literary agent. You loved helped getting writers the best possible contracts, through that you met Andy, who left you the bookstore. Andy decided to take an early retirement and spend his time traveling. Not a relationship person, you had liaisons or flings, however whatever this was with Adam felt different.

Things with Adam were still new, only two weeks, and it was still very exciting. He had been coming over every other night, you’d hook up, talk, and get a bite to eat. He’d normally sneak out after you fell asleep, he’d be quiet and lock up. Then he’d message you one or two days later asking if you could meet again and if he could come over. Tonight, he was coming over after his theater rehearsal, and he said he was bringing takeout. You had never talked about what you were, if anything at all besides fuck buddies, and a part of you wanted to clear the air, while the other part didn’t want to mention it in case it would ruin whatever you had. You didn’t want a relationship yet but you had wanted some clear title on the situation.

You throw on a cozy sweater, take off your bra, and then put on a pair of cheekie underwear. You decide to veg out since you had some free time and it would still be a while before Adam would show up. Your two dogs, Benji and Barney, beagle mix brothers you rescued, join you on the couch. After you put on the same show you’ve been binge-watching lately, and before you know it you’re dozing off.

TWO WEEKS AGO

This was a limited release party hosted by one of your friends, and things seemed to be going well until you could hear an altercation taking place. When you move towards the scene, you can see a petite blonde woman screaming at a large, dark-haired man. Before you can step in between them, she takes her drink and throws at him, the liquid going all over his face, hair, and shirt. As you go towards the woman to tell her to get out before you call the police, she’s out the door. The man tries to dry himself off and is somehow un-stunned by the woman’s reaction. You go up to him, offer him a napkin. He takes it and says, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

           “Hold on, I have towels in the back. C’mon.” You say and you can tell the man takes a moment to register your statement because there’s a pause before he follows you. Trotting towards the back linen closet, you can’t help but look over your shoulder at the man. First, he’s much taller than you, and broad-shouldered. Second, he’s got a unique looking face that you find very attractive. And the hair, you’re a sucker for good hair. Your night has definitely become more interesting. You can see him eying you up too, or at least you hope that’s what he’s doing.

           You hand the man the towel, and he gives you a slight smile. As he wipes himself off, he says again, “Thanks, you really didn’t have to help me.”

           “Now, c’mon I couldn’t just let that happen, unless you deserved it.” You say as he hands you the towel back, and you notice how his hand brushes yours ever so lightly. He raises his eyebrows and says, “That happens a lot with us. I usually deserve it.”

           “Did you cheat? Are you an abusive asshole?” You ask and he shakes his head no to your inquiry. You tell him, “Then you didn’t deserve that.”

           “I’m Adam, by the way. Adam Sackler.” He says and offers you his hand. You take it and introduce yourself to him. He then asks, “Do you work here? You look familiar.”

           “I actually own it. That’s why I know where all the towels and good stuff is. I’m also an agent, hence the party.” You answer and you see him smile at you. “Damn that’s impressive. I’m an actor and I write some too. I did a short film not long ago.”

“Aren’t you the Torpica guy?” It clicks in your head that’s why he looks vaguely familiar.  He however, looks embarrassed and starts defending himself, “Shamefully yes. I routinely get told from guys that they can’t get their dick hard on Torpica.”

You laugh at his last comment before asking him, “Broadway or non-Broadway?”

“Broadway for now. I’m in The Seagull.” You’re impressed, The Seagull is one of your favorites, and Broadway is always huge for actors. He must be talented you think to yourself. His eyes lock onto yours like a predator locking unto prey. Just not yet though. You move slightly away from him and start walking back to the party. He follows you, and soon the two of you are mingling with others at the party like you never met.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed because you thought that was going somewhere. Maybe that’s why the girl threw her drink on him in the first place. It was New York after all, you could end up seeing him again and again, or he’d become a ghost you’d only see once. Time would tell.

                                                      ********

Apparently, Adam would not be rid of so easily. The next day your shop opens, he strolls in within a half-hour of opening. At first, he tries to appear oblivious, looking through the shelves, then stealing a glance from you before he finally decides to approach you. You smile and he gives you a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Hey, I guess I wanted to see you again.” Adam says when he’s only feet in front of you. You raise your eyebrows in fake shock, step away from the register, then ask, “Really? Are you intrigued?”

“Very, very intrigued.” He says and his eyes stay locked with yours. The sensuality is practically rolling off this guy, even if he’s not the best at small talk. You’re going to have to step it up a notch than you usually use on your conquests, so you ask, “What do you want to know about me?”

“Everything. Or whatever you want me know.” He stammers, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. You begin moving around the store, Adam joins you, and you chuckle as you tell him, “Good catch. Not looking for a stalker.”

Before you know it, the two of you are in chairs side by side in the classics nook on the upper level. You had to have your employee, Annie, cover your post downstairs. Adam had been here for two hours, and the two of you talked bad dates and bad nights. You were surprised to hear that a woman throwing a drink on him wasn’t even in his top ten. You then moved onto your favorite books, writers, poets. Then he says, “You’re a fan of the classics, then?”

“I certainly am. But how did you know? My favorites were varied.” You ask back, leaning into him, then you take a drink of your coffee. He responds with, “This the first real place you took me in this big store. We’ve been here the longest.”

“You do pay attention. It’s very calming up here.” You stand up and start browsing the shelves that you already check every day. Adam comes up beside you and you can feel the heat rolling off his body. The two of you start talking about the classics: which ones are overrated, which ones are underrated, and which are wrongly categorized. He asks you what you’re currently reading and he’s surprised that you’re on a poetry kick, mainly a female poetry kick. He confesses he’s read a lot of Chekhov to help him with the role. This chitter-chatter between you feels effortless and natural, even when it’s awkward at times. When his eyes hit 100 Years of Solitude, he adds, “I once dated a girl who was related to Gabriel Garcia Marquez.”

“Okay, I’ll admit you certainly live a very interesting life. Now I’m curious about your other relationships? Mainly the girl who caused the scene in my store.” You say and you’re wondering if he’ll open to you, or if the wall will come up. It’s really none of your business, but the fact he brushed off that incident with the drink makes you wonder what his love life must normally be like.

“That was Jessa, and that was a whole clusterfuck of a situation. It was batshit crazy. But it’s kind of a long story.” He admits and runs his hands through his hair. You turn to smirk at him, angling your body to lean against the bookshelf while you purposefully graze your fingers along the back of his hand, “I have time.”

Then, you hear about his soapbox of past relationships. Hannah, fuck Hannah, Natalia, also a bitch, MiMi Rose, who was just awful, and Jessa, queen of toxicity. That’s why you never really wasted time dating or in relationships, they get so fucked up so fast. You listen to his side of the story, only commenting to let him know you’re still paying attention to him. He has flaws like anyone does but you can’t imagine anyone treating him poorly. Adam seemed like a sincere and genuine person. He then tells you, “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever just listened to me before. Except you, that was nice.”

“No problem, I’m sorry you’ve had such rough luck in relationships.” You say back and you really didn’t mind listening to him. He was funny, charming, and nice to be around, listening to him was easy.

“I brought most of it on myself. What about you?” He admits. That’s the million dollar question. Every guy you’ve ever been interested in or has been interested in you, wants to know. You hate discussing it, and normally you’d leave mystery around it, but Adam was open and honest with you. You should be open and honest with him.

“I don’t really date or do relationships. I’ve had one serious boyfriend in the last five years.” Your eyes drift downwards even though you try to prevent them from giving in. What it is about this man that makes you feel vulnerable and is turning your world upside down after two days? Adam gently places his hand on your shoulder, trying to cheer you up from your sudden downshift in mood. When you look up at him, his amber eyes look confused like he’s trying to work out a difficult math problem in his mind. He finally asks you, “Why not? No doubt you must have men crawling over you all the time.”

“Commitment issues. It’s just not my thing.” You try to brush it off. Adam’s not fazed by your negativity or your attempt to push him away. It seems to strengthen his resolve.

“Well, if you think that’s going to deter me, you don’t know how persistent I can be.” He says while giving you a smile. Most men you would blatantly shot down by now, or you would eat them alive, but something about Adam felt right, and it felt good. And it terrified you.

                                                          *****

The next evening, he shows up as you’re closing up the shop. You invite him to come with you to a party, and you’re surprised that he agrees without hesitation. The party is in a penthouse in Noho, owned by one of your acquaintances. She was the type who was born into money, so she hopped from thing to thing, been in and out of school several times. She was one of your writers, for a short time before she moved onto something else, but apparently she liked you well enough to invite you to her ragers. You and Adam make your way towards the bar, where you order your usual drink and you’re surprised when he orders seltzer water.

“You don’t drink?” You ask. He tells you, “I’m an alcoholic.”

“Damn, if I had known I wouldn’t have invited you here. I didn’t even think.” You feel bad, you just assumed he wouldn’t have a problem with the party. Now you felt bad that you could be tempting him or making him feel uncomfortable. It must show on your face because he leans in, and touches your shoulder saying, “It’s really okay. Don’t feel bad about it.”

You nod your head, and you eye the dance floor. He watches you, then he offers his hand, and asks you dance. He has crazy dance moves and you can’t hide how it makes you smile. You throw your classic, go-to moves. Then he pulls you into him, spins you and dips you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. You come back up, and your body is flush against his, you can feel every muscle he has, even his heart beating in his chest. You can smell his cologne, and you’re feeling lightheaded, not from the alcohol but from him.

Adam’s face is inches from you, you can feel his breath on your cheek. You think he’s leaning to kiss you, but instead his hand moves to the small of your back as he whispers in your ear, “Want to get out of here?”

“Sure.” You smile, he grabs your hand and you move your way through the crowd.

*****

           About an hour later, you’re sitting in this eclectic diner across from Adam and you’re still trying to read him. He’s certainly very interesting and tells you about himself while at the same time telling you nothing really. You decide to appraise him with your three question game.

“Bookstore, e-book, or audio book?” You ask as you take a drink of coffee. His answer is bookstore. Check. “London, Paris, or Florence?” “Mac and cheese, sushi, or Mexican?” “Fitzgerald, Wilde, Kafka?” “How do you take your coffee?” He answers all of your questions satisfactorily. You’ve decided that you’re taking him home tonight, but you have to check off a few more rational boxes first.

“Criminal record?” This one makes him laugh and he explains how his one ex called the cops on him. You think he’s explained enough, so you move on to the next major question. “Married or in a relationship?”

“Single” He says with emphasis. He already explained that the British blonde chick was Jessa, his ex who he still fucked sometimes. Next, “STDs,” you ask coolly, watching closely for any reactions. He answers with, “I’m clean and get routinely checked.”

“Where do you live?” He tells you Prospect Heights, and that is a shock to you though he does definitely strikes you as a Brooklyn guy. Then, the most important question you do a drum roll on the table before leaning in to ask in a low voice, “How often do you masturbate?’

           “Twice a day at least,” he says like it’s no big deal, like you just asked him his favorite food. You can’t hold back a laugh. You’re pleased with his honesty, and raise your hand to request the check. Then, the two of you were in your apartment, with him fucking you from behind on the couch. You later moved to your bedroom, where you rode him, then you woke up that morning to him eating you out. So yeah, you were impressed. You had never had that many orgasms from a partner before.

Later that morning, after he makes you eggs for breakfast, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, you lean into him. After giving your head a quick kiss, he says, “We should do this again sometime. I had a good time, I think you had a good time. Or I can take you a date.”

You feel yourself tense involuntarily. Adam removes himself from you, so he’s now standing in front of you, waiting for an explanation. It’s not fair how perfect he looks, how are you supposed to have this conversation when an Adonis is standing in front of you? You tell him, “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m not really the dating type, relationships make me feel claustrophobic.”

“Really? I don’t believe you” He says in a sing-song voice as he leans in to press kisses on your each of your cheeks, and then down your neck. Your hands go straight to his hair again to lace through the soft tresses. You feel your voice get airy and your concentration starts to go as you say, “Yeah, I’m too busy, kind of self-involved, and I’m not the type who goes to meet your family, goes out for anniversaries or anything.”

“So what do you do then?” He murmurs against the skin of your collarbone, where he’s now left a bruise. His lips don’t stop caressing your skin, grazing the tops of your breasts, and you can feel his hand slip the back of your thigh. You grab onto his hair, and bring his face to meet yours. His pupils are darkened with lust, and you answer his question with, “Liaisons. I do liaisons.”

Adam inches forward to kiss you softly, and it’s you that asks for more, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He grants you entrance as his hands go to cup your face, then rest on your neck. You’re stunned by the passion and sweetness of this kiss, you really might be a goner for this guy. He pulls away, his face turns serious, then he tells you, “I promise I won’t take you to meet my family, but I do really like you so no long term promises.”

“I can guarantee that you’ll want me to meet your family. I like you too.” You chuckle back, and he starts laughing too. His large hands palm your ass, before moving upward to rest at your waist. This affection is nice, nearly addictive. His eyes flicker when he asks, “What happens now?”

“We fuck. Hard.” You say and he’s on you kissing you, as he picks you up to head towards the bedroom once again.

********

PRESENT

You’re awoken from your nap by Adam buzzing into your apartment. The noise makes Benji and Barney howl slightly. You try to shush them as you go to let Adam in. Once you open the door, he eyes you up and down. You suddenly feel self-conscious because you’re still not really dressed and your hair is up in a messy bun. Adam looks like he wants to eat you.

“You look hot as fuck.” He says and quickly follows you inside. You barely make it through the door before he’s on you. He drops the takeout, and his jacket to press you against the door. His lips crush yours, and his tongue is instantly licking into your mouth. Your hands fly around his shoulders to run through his hair as he grinds his hips into you, he’s rock hard already. His lips descend upon your neck while his hand makes its way into your panties. His fingers waste no time dragging along your wet folds.

“So wet, already? My dirty slut ready for my cock?” He taunts while his thumb circles your clit, and he thrusts his middle and index finger into you. You moan while his other hand squeezes your tits. You’re going to cum soon if he doesn’t slow down, apparently he’s in that kind of mood because your moans only encourage him to add more pressure, and rub circles fervently. You feel the pleasure build in your lower stomach, and creep down your legs, then Adam abruptly stops his ministrations to your chagrin.

“Ah, what the fuck?” you groan. Adam’s fingers are still between your legs, his thumb drawing light circles on your clit. He looks so smug, with a sly smile and blown out pupils.

“You didn’t answer my question. Answer and you’ll get to come.”

“Yes, your dirty slut is ready for your cock, Please let me come.” His thumbs presses down on your clit again, and thrusts his fingers into you, crooking up to your spot. Then your orgasm rocks through, leaving your muscles to clench, while your head drops to your shoulders. He watches you as you come down, then he picks you, you wrap your legs around his waist. You kiss him everywhere your lips can reach and your hands search under his shirt for his skin. He sets you down on top of your table with your legs spread wide, and he’s placed himself in between them.

You reach to pull off his shirt as he then pulls yours off too. He then turns to your panties and they’re quickly removed from you. As you kiss him, your hands unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans and start working his cock. Your hand jerks his cock and spreads the bead of precum around the tip. He moans and thrust into your hand.

“Can’t wait any longer to fuck you.” He says as he guides his cock into you. You lean back nearly flat against the table and pull your legs up to give him the deepest angle. His thrusts start off rough and hard, then are more drawn out, leaving you both moaning. He picks up the pace again, you can hear the sound of your bodies slapping together, his balls smacking against your ass. He leans into to kiss you, you hitch your leg behind his hip, while his hand sneaks down to work your clit. Your second orgasm is building fast and you can tell from his thrusts he’s close too.

“Ah, I’m gonna come!” You shout, then you clench around him. There’s filth coming out of his mouth.

“ Fuck, your cunt is milking is my cock! Such a cumslut! Where does my cumbucket want me to cum?” He says jaggedly. You tell him, “Cum on my tits, I want you to cum on my tits.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses as he pulls out and pumps himself. Soon, there’s streams of his cum on your chest and on your stomach. You both catch your breath, then he kisses you sweetly, retrieves his shirt and cleans you up. You thank him and get up to recover the takeout that he left by the door. Silently, you heat up a plate for yourself then one for him. You take the plates over to your coffee table in front of your couch. Adam looks very distressed for some unknown reason, you hope he didn’t want to actually eat on that table after you fucked on it.

“Adam, is something wrong?” You finally ask while you shovel food in your mouth. You’re starving so if he’s having a post-coital meltdown it will have to coincide with dinner.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks and you have no idea why he thinks that you’re mad.

“No, why would I be mad?” You ask.

“You know I have no idea what I say before I cum. I didn’t mean anything I said about you” He answers and looks down.

“Oh my gosh, I’m not mad at you. Do you seriously think I’d let you stay here if I was offended or thought you meant it?” You tell him. What he said during sex didn’t bother you at all, that was how dirty talk worked. Of course he didn’t mean it seriously.

“I guess not.” He says then smiles before finally digging into the takeout.

“I happen to like your dirty talk, I find it very sexy.” You say and stand up to take your plate to the dishwasher. You’re sure to perk your ass out as you walk in front of him, enjoying seeing how his eyes follow you.

The next morning you wake to find yourself surrounded by a hulk of man sleeping beside you, or precisely, partially on top of you. Adam must have stayed the night after round two. You had always considered yourself in touch with your sexuality, but with Adam you felt utterly insatiable, always wanting more. No matter how many times you came. You maneuver out of bed towards shower. You let the hot water relax you, then as you’re lathering up, Adam joins you.

           After yet another round of fucking, you’re now both fully dressed and ready to go about your days. The two of you walk out of your apartment building, and once you’re on the street, he pulls you flush against him, asking, “When can I see you again?”

           “Don’t get attached to me, I’ll break your little heart. But you really want to do this?” You ask and he nods his head yes. This would be your time to define this relationship. You pull him back in the street to give the two of you some privacy. He says, “I want to do whatever you want me to do. No labels, or labels, I don’t give a shit. I want to be with you.”

           “Alright. Friends with benefits then. I’m free from Sunday to Tuesday afternoons, but sometimes catch up on work those days. I work long hours at the store on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday because there are readings, book clubs and releases. I hate getting up early in the morning, and am monster without coffee. In the bedroom, I like some choking, bdsm. I’ll try any toy, I’ve never done anal but I’m willing to try it with the right partner. I’m on birth control but I’d still prefer you to wear condoms and come outside sometimes. Just don’t come in my hair. But I’m sure you already know half of that.” You say, taking a deep breath and he’s followed your whole statement as evidence by his slightly amused face. He kisses you deeply, pushing you against the brick wall and says, “I think can do all of those things.”

           “I’ll come by your place, tonight then.” He says as he walks down the street and you smile and nod your assent. You’re looking forward to seeing him again, and wonder how long he’ll stick around. Normally, your dalliances never lasted more than a month or two, but Adam was unique.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam driver #adam sackler smut #reader insert

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Supernatural-Jackles

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jen

Age: 24

Location: Ontario, Canada

URL: @supernatural-jackles​ 

Why did you choose your URL:  I wanted a Supernatural theme for my blog when I started watching it and Jensen Ackles just happens to be my favourite on there so it became that.

What inspired you to become a writer: I’ve always enjoyed stories. I’ve loved the aspect of taking your mind to a whole other world and living in it. As I grew up and continued reading, my love for stories became stronger and stronger. I fell in love with characters and places. I wanted to always have a way to go back to those places and take other people to those places. I wanted to create stories for others to fall in love with the way I fell in love with them.

How long have you been writing:  I have been writing since I was 8 or 9.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc?  Right now, my Nintendo switch is a good friend of mine. Due to the virus, I spend a lot of my time inside when I’m not at work. I’m either writing, working, sleeping or playing switch.

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom?  Since 2012

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? I am in the Harry Potter fandom, and Marvel. I don’t write for them though. I don’t feel the same way about the characters as I do with the SPN Fandom. 

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? I have been working on my novel for the last two years on and off. I just find a lot more joy in writing Supernatural fanfiction at the moment, so my soul focus has stayed on that. 

Favorite published author:  Margaret Atwood or John Green

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?:  There was this one book I read. I was about 18 at the time I believe. All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. A very triggering book, just so you know. I remember sitting there reading it and wondering why I’m putting myself through something so draining and daunting. The book was very upsetting and I found it didn’t tackle the issues at hand in a very tasteful and realistic way. As someone who writes fanfiction about mental health, it influenced me to be open and honest about the way reality is, but in a way that would shine more positively towards mental health struggles. I never wanted to be that person who ruined every mental health book for someone else like that author did for me. It was a negative impact, but I think it had some positive results.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I enjoy all genres to be honest. It really all depends on the mood I’m in that day. It’s fun to switch it up every once in a while and enjoy the mixed emotions you get when you read or write said genre.

Favorite piece of your own writing: One and One Make Three or Just Want to Be Loved.

Most underrated fic you have written:  I might have to say More Than a Fling. It was the sequel to Summer Fling and everyone was interested in a second series. It soon went on permanent hiatus due to lack of interest.

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show:  Owe You One

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s):   @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @kaz-2y5imagines​,  @jawritter​ @mariekoukie6661​, @torn-and-frayed​

Favorite fic from another writer:  Breathe by @luci-in-trenchcoats​

Favorite character to write: Dean/Jensen

Favorite Pairing to write:  Undecided. I love reader inserts and I haven’t done many pairings other than that. I have toyed with Jensen/Reader/Danneel before and I enjoy writing them.

Least favorite character to write (and why):  Castiel. We only see so much of Cas and there aren’t as many complex layers of him so he’s harder for me to explore.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  @luci-in-trenchcoats

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing?   Finish everything I start, and be proud of every piece I create.

How many work-in-progress stories do you have:  Ummm probably upwards to the mid 60’s I want to say.

What are you currently working on?  I am in the very early stages of writing a Jensen x Reader Bodyguard AU series. Twisty and turny and very different from what I usually write, but still very me.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing?  I have the biggest influence on my writing for the most part. I always stick with what I want to write and what I’d love to read. That’s what gets me started on most pieces. My dear best friend who shall remain anonymous, has an influence on me as well. She mostly inspires me to write what I want to write and reminds me on a constant basis that I am doing good and to keep going with my ideas.

Best writing advice you've been given:  Don’t be afraid to get a little out of your comfort zone.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing:  Time management mostly. Deadlines are not my best friend, that’s for sure. I am often filled with a lot of self-doubt when it comes to getting things done on time. Then I wonder if it’s good enough for publishing or if I should wait.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? The research process for certain fics can be daunting. Especially if you don’t know where you need to start looking. Then fact checking, and making sure it works in the story. I have to remind myself that it will be worth it in the end. 

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why):  I am pretty open with writing most of the things I want to. Getting out of my comfort zone is something I regularly do. It’s always fun to challenge yourself into writing something you’d never think of doing. I certainly have enjoyed the things I was scared to try and it was worth it in the end.

What inspires/motivates you to write:  Any selfie/picture posted by Jensen. My best friend and the lovely people around me. @luci-in-trenchcoats is a big influence on me and she always keeps me going!

How do you deal with self doubt:  I constantly have to remind myself to get out of that headspace unless I am writing about being in that headspace. It’s a hard cycle to break. Reminding myself that what I am doing is making me happy. I’m making the rules. I’m writing this for me. I have to please myself first and that’s what matters the most. I know myself and the way I write, and that is enough. That’s what I keep on repeat in my head.

How do you deal with writer's block: Cry profusely? I’m kidding. Writer’s block for me, usually comes from something I don’t like that I have written. If it’s minor, I go back to the point where I was happy with where the story was going and delete everything after that. Give it a fresh new start and prospective. If the block is more severe, I take a break. Watch a movie and don’t stress myself about it. I get ideas anywhere, and it will come back eventually. Sometimes it’s just your brain's way of saying “hey, you need to take a break. Do that.”

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: Generally yes. I like to know where my story is going. Most of the time my outlines are more extensive rough drafts. It’s a way of processing my thoughts and writing them down so I don’t forget later. It’s a lot more fun for me to build on stories.

Do you have any weird writing habits:  I either have to sit in a silent room, or I have to listen to music. Lately it’s been more silent. It depends on the subject.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it?  I’ve received my share of hateful comments. Each one sucks, I’m not going to lie. Knowing that there is someone out there that hates the way you wrote something so much that they had to tell you isn’t nice. It kind of comes back to the self doubt thing. You have to remind yourself that this is one person’s not so kind opinion. You are the writer, you are in control of this story. This is you and you’re proud of this.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  Any feedback is my favourite feedback. Every heart, every “I love this”. Every “You’re my favourite.” I can’t pick a favourite. If someone can take the time out to say they’ve loved something I have written and that it meant a lot to them, then that's the best reward I can get.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be?  Keep writing everyday! You don’t see it now but the more you write, the better you get.

#pond diving #pond diving: supernatural-jackles #spnfanficpond

[bernadineisreborn]

Can you write a scene where Draco kisses readers forehead while they’re still friends before they date but she almost died or somethin cuz forehead kisses be underrated 👀

a/n: hehehe okayyyyy!! this is a cute request. a nice, fluffy drabble follows. 

warnings: not edited very well, hallucinations, slight mention of blood, one (1) swear word, hospital wing visit, death omen from trelawney, sort of dark mention of being forced to become a death eater (it’s light-hearted i promise)

word count: 2010 [technically longer than drabble-length fight me]

As a witch, you know of at least 1,000 ways you could die accidentally, by cause of your own magic or attempts at magic. That’s how Luna Lovegood’s mother had died, you’d heard. Experimenting with spells. Curiosity was not always a good thing in the Wizarding World, especially if you were known to have occasional bouts of extreme clumsiness. Which, of course, you were.

One particular Monday, you were sitting quietly in Divination. Class hadn’t started yet. Professor Trelawney hadn’t even made her usual grand entrance. You laid your books neatly in front of you.

Not two minutes later, she swooped in. Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting next to you, rolled her eyes at the crystal ball on the velvet-clothed table in front of her. Trelawney stopped suddenly, and spun very importantly towards you and Pansy. Her brows were pulled tight against her eyelids, which were open wide.

“You, dear,” she pointed to you, “You have something very dangerous in your future.”

You gaped, unsure what to say. It wasn’t unlike Trelawney to tell a random student that they had a death omen, or something of the sort, but it wasn’t very calming to be the student she chose.

Pansy scoffed, “Yeah? What’s that?”

Trelawney’s glazed eyes turned to your friend, “She must be careful! There is something dark indeed! A mysterious outcome, yes, could go either way…” she trailed off.

You still hadn’t said anything, but a chill found the back of your neck and you shuddered involuntarily.

“Ah, yes, even she can see the danger! Tell me, dear, have you seen any omens lately? Any signs in tea leaves? Perhaps three caws of a crow?”

You shook your head, and Pansy spoke up again, “I saw her tea leaves this morning, Professor. Perfectly ordinary,” her glare shifted into more of a smirk, “Maybe your message was meant for Blaise, he seems like he needs a bit of bad luck. Far too cocky, lately.”

“Says you, Parkinson,” snorted Blaise.

With that, Trelawney’s attention was officially elsewhere as she began another ominous lecture. Pansy’s eyes met yours, “Everyone knows she’s a crackpot, don’t worry about it,” she reassured you.

You nodded, “Yeah. You’re right.” You steeled your expression and began your notes.

----

You stepped into Herbology later that day, Trelawney’s prediction having left a seemingly permanent shiver in your spine.

You had skipped lunch in order to work on a few essays, and were munching on some berries.

The Herbology room was one of your favorite classrooms. The greenery was an aesthetic, the plants were fascinating to watch, and the clean air was intoxicating.

You were alone with the plants, and you admired them in silence. After a few minutes of watching the Chinese Chomping Cabbage bite at the air, your eyes were drawn to a rather large pot of Belladonna. You wandered over to it, and picked some of the berries to use in Potions.

A few minutes later, Draco waltzed in. His expression, as usual, looked a bit distasteful, until he made eye contact with you. His expression morphed into the tiniest of smiles. “Hello, Y/N.”

Draco’s family had been friends with yours since before either of you were born, as it was with many pureblood families. You’d fought a lot when you were younger, but as time went on, both of you seemed to realize you were allied on more fronts than not.

“Draco,” you greeted, “How are you, today?”

“I’m alright. Though, I heard you were the lucky student marked for doom today.” His smile turned into concern.

You gave another shiver, “Well, yes, there’s that. Otherwise fine though,” you tried to smile in a convincing manner, but you could only manage a grimace. You popped a berry into your mouth, finding comfort in the sweet taste.

Draco pursed his lips, “Y/N, I’m sure that—”

You stopped listening, because suddenly, the berry in your mouth was rather spicy, not sweet. You looked down, and in your hand were the dark purple berries of the Belladonna. Your blueberries were still sitting on the table with your books.

You looked back up to Draco. He was looking at you, making no attempts to hide the concern written all over his pale face. “… Y/N?… Y/N?”

You coughed as the berry burned your throat. “Erm, Draco?” He was becoming fuzzy around the edges and his hair was looking yellowish, almost neon. You reminded yourself of the effects of Belladonna berries: hallucinations, delirium. You blinked, and coughed again. You meant to tell him what you’d accidentally done, what your attempts at gathering supplies for Potions had amounted to. But all you could say was, “You’re a lemon.”

Draco stared, uncomprehending, very, very confused. His eyes raked over you, standing very still, eating berries. “What in Merlin’s name do you mean, ‘I’m a lemon’?”

You stumbled a bit as you walked toward him. His immediate thought was: she’s drunk some firewhiskey. But, you wouldn’t do that. You were a good, focused student.

You reached him and pulled your hand up, tangling your fingers in his lemony hair. Draco blushed and tried to step away, but you were insistent. “When did you turn into a lemon?”

“Y/N? What are you on about?” Draco grabbed the hand that was not in his hair, in an attempt to get your attention. A few dark purple berries fell into his hand, squishing into juice in his palm. They smelled weird. He eyed them cautiously, “What are you eating?”

You pulled away when you saw Draco bring the berries to his face to smell them. Even in your current state, you knew this was bad. Or, maybe, the berries just told you it was bad. Because suddenly, they had little, angry faces and they were yelling at you.

“Don’t let him eat us, you ignorant, stupid girl!” screamed the one in the front.

You stumbled again, “No, Draco, don’t.” you slurred, “These are not good for eating,” you offered him some blueberries from your bag on the table, “Here take these, instead.”

“What do you mean?” Draco felt the blood drain from his face as he realized what was going on, “What kind of berries are these?”

You said nothing, but your eyes lingered to a pot across the room, where you had been standing when Draco first entered. Belladonna.

“Y/N,” he said, his eyes growing very stern, “Please tell me that you didn’t eat Belladonna berries.”

You giggled, “I wasn’t supposed to.”

Draco held his arm out for you to balance on, which you took gratefully. You were so grateful, in fact, that you started hugging him and didn’t let go. “For fuck’s sake, no, you were not supposed to.” He started leading the pair of you out of the room and towards the Hospital Wing.

“You’re so nice, Draco, the berries are happy you didn’t eat them. They—” You stopped speaking, staring over Draco’s shoulder, “Draco, why aren’t you real?”

Draco followed your gaze: nothing was there, “Darling, what do you mean? I’m right here. Merlin, just come with me, already.”

You met his eyes, finally, “Nope, I know you’re not real. Draco isn’t this nice to stupid people.” You pulled away from him and started swatting at your arm.

Draco was exasperated, “Y/N, you’re not stupid. Usually. You just—” his eyes shifted to your arm, which you were still hitting lightly, “What are you doing?”

“There’s a tentacle in my arm,” you explained, as though it made all the sense in the world.

Draco took your tentacle arm and pulled you along.

“Where are we going?” you asked, “And who is that man?”

Draco followed your gaze again, but there was no man.

“Oh, maybe you are real, you’re acting like normal again. You know, ignoring me.” You sighed, “How come you never ignore Pansy? It’s because she’s prettier than me, isn’t it? Oh good, there she is,” You started talking to someone to your left, but again, there was no one there. “Pansy, I think Draco might be in love with you. It would make sense, you know. Everyone’s been saying that you’re dating.”

Draco rolled his eyes at this comment, but said nothing and continued walking.

You giggled, and shushed the imaginary Pansy, “No, no! Don’t tell him, don’t you dare!”

Though he was more than mildly concerned, he was also interested in something you might be keeping secret from him, “Don’t tell me what?” he asked, glancing at you with a glimmer of mischief hidden in his scowl.

You turned your chin up, “Pansy won’t tell.”

Draco laughed in spite of himself, “I’d reckon I’ll never know from her, then.” You walked in silence for a few moments, “Maybe you ought to tell me.”

Your eyes widened, “No. She’d be very cross with me.”

“Why does Pansy care? I thought it was your secret.”

You frowned at him as though he was the one making no sense, “It’s my secret. But the other me would be mad if I told you.”

Draco couldn’t help laughing again, “The other you? And where is she?”

You tapped your forehead smartly, “Right in here.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, obviously.”

By now, you had reached the Hospital Wing. Draco led you to Madame Pomfrey. “She’s eaten some berries from a Belladonna plant,” he explained, gesturing to you, still clinging to his arm. “I’m not sure—”

Just then, you began screaming a very loud, very upsetting scream.

Madame Pomfrey moved swiftly into action.

You were hyperventilating, your breath escaping you in forced pants, “No! No! Go away! You can’t make me! I won’t join you!” You met Draco’s eyes, “Draco! Help! They can’t make me, please!” you sobbed.

Draco’s earlier feelings of worry returned. He had been about to tell Madame Pomfrey that he didn’t think you’d gotten too much of the berry, because you seemed relatively mellow. Now, that assessment was clearly overruled.

You began clawing at your arms again, drawing blood this time.

“Malfoy!” snapped Madame Pomfrey, “Help me restrain her.”

Draco held you down on one of the Hospital Wing cots as you kicked and screamed. His heart ached for you, having a pretty good idea what you were hallucinating now without having to ask. After all, didn’t the same fear plague his nightmares?

Madame Pomfrey finished tying you down, and forced some Calming Draught down your throat during a particularly drawn out scream. You gurgled it down, and slowly stopped thrashing. Next, she administered the antidote to the Belladonna.

“How did this happen, Malfoy?” she asked. Draco was in stunned silence as he watched you. “Malfoy!”

Draco’s eyes snapped to hers, “Erm, I think she picked some and thought she was eating her blueberries from lunch.”

Madame Pomfrey huffed. After a few minutes she said, “Well, she’ll be fine. She’s going to have a headache. Get back to class.”

Draco didn’t move.

Madame Pomfrey sighed, “Fine. You can stay until she wakes up. But you’re not sleeping here!” With that, she walked away, probably going to help some other unfortunate student.

Draco sat next to you. Your face, finally, was serene, but you were paler than normal. After a moment, your eyebrows creased, and you hummed. Draco reached for your hand, and gripped it lightly.

He brought your hand to his face and kissed it lightly. He frowned, there was still a crease in between your eyebrows. He moved to the spot on your forehead and kissed lightly there, too.

“Malfoy!” scolded Madame Pomfrey from across the room.

Draco blushed. You blinked awake, sleep and haze still clouding your eyes, “Draco, did you just kiss me?”

His blush deepened, “Only because you looked so pathetic.”

You laughed, his hair was still a shade of neon yellow, though it was fading. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell him your secret, after all.

You closed your eyes again, “I’m pathetic? At least my hair isn’t that ridiculous shade of yellow.”

He huffed.

You giggled and squinted an eye open at him. “Goodnight, lemon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

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