#but in this case i have a feeling things will feel painfully bittersweet when its over

[dwellordream]

“Northern states acted separately to end slavery. Vermont was the first state to forbid it by incorporating an antislavery provision into its 1777 constitution. In Massachusetts the courts abolished slavery in a series of ‘freedom cases’ brought by slaves and their sympathizers in the 1780s. As Chief Justice William Cushing of the Supreme Judicial Court ruled, ‘The idea of slavery is inconsistent with our own conduct and constitution. …there can be no such thing as perpetual servitude of a rational creature.’ New Hampshire adopted a constitution in 1783 that declared ‘all men are born equal and independent.’

…Elsewhere the process of freeing the enslaved was painfully slow. State legislatures enacted gradual abolition statutes in Pennsylvania (1780), Rhode Island (1784), Connecticut (1784), New York (1799), and New Jersey (1804). These laws provided for freedom of the children of slaves when they reached ages ranging from 18 to 28. In this way, parents who were enslaved for life saw their children become free. Their victory must have been bittersweet, filled with boy joy and agonizing frustration. As late as 1840, New Jersey still listed legally owned slaves on its census.

…Freedom did not, however, change the daunting work responsibilities of black women. They remained largely an unskilled work force. Under the southern slave system, women worked almost exclusively as agricultural laborers. A few found employment as domestics, and on rare occasion (especially during the war years) women worked at skilled tasks, such as spinning and weaving. But many more black men than women worked at skilled trades under slavery. …Most black women in towns and cities worked as laundresses. As the Pennsylvania Abolition Society reported in 1795, ‘The Women generally, both married and single, wash clothes for a living.’ This physically demanding job was no easier than fieldwork. Whatever their occupation, under both slavery and freedom women worked from dawn to dusk to support themselves and their families.

…In all urban centers blacks moved gradually into their own neighborhoods. At first they sought simple companionship, the opportunity to live among people who did not judge them as inferiors. Soon, however, they were establishing churches, schools, and charitable societies to help each other in their daily struggles for survival. Life in the urban North was difficult for black families, but for those who could live where they wanted and with whom they wanted for the first time, freedom made the daily struggle to survive worthwhile.

…The rise of a large free black population in the North aggravated racial tensions in both the North and South. White northerners no longer wanted to uphold a slave system, but for the most part their attitudes toward the newly freed slaves did not change. Racist feelings of superiority determined the treatment of blacks under both slavery and freedom. And as slavery became even more firmly entrenched in the South, explicitly racist arguments in favor of the institution were heard more and more. White southerners argued that blacks were intellectually incapable of caring for themselves and their families. They claimed that blacks were inherently lazy, dishonest, and foolish.

…With the end of legal slave importation in sight, the role of enslaved women as childbearers took on new importance. By the end of the 18th century slave owners understood that their slaves’ fertility increased their wealth and guaranteed the continued prosperity of their children. As Thomas Jefferson remarked, ‘I consider a woman who brings a child every two years as more profitable than the best man of the farm.’ This attitude became particularly prevalent in Maryland, Delaware, and Virginia, where planters began to encourage slaves to have large families as a way of making money.

…In other cases, white men coerced their female slaves into reproducing. Some women found themselves coupled with a man unwillingly, simply because the master said it was time for them to produce children. Many owners even raped their own slaves or forced them to become their mistresses. Tragically, most of these men later turned the offspring from these unions into slaves. The social system of the southern colonies and states frowned on men who acknowledged their sexual liaisons by granting freedom to their children. Even the slave owners who promoted stable family life took little trouble to ensure that families stayed together.

…Although some women practiced abortion and infanticide to deny owners additional human property, many more bore children as a means of self-affirmation. In African-American culture, as in the traditional societies of West Africa from which these people came, motherhood gave women personal fulfillment and high social status. As wives and mothers, they satisfied their own needs and the needs of black slave communities even more than the needs of owners. Enslaved families, however tortured, produced the means for individual slave survival.

Just as African-American women struggled to defend their families under slavery, Native American women attempted to protect their families from total destruction during the revolutionary era. The war was very hard on the eastern tribes, which suffered attacks from both English and Patriot troops. Some Indians tried to stay neutral, but the stance proved impossible to maintain. And no matter which side a tribe joined in the war, the enemy loomed near.

…Although the Iroquois survived, their culture, in many wars, did not. Peace found the Iroquois crowded on relatively small reservations, unable to follow the customs of the hunt, migration of town sites, warfare, and family relationships. As a people, they now questioned the validity of their traditions because they had fared so badly in their contests with Europeans. Many Iroquois came to despise their own culture as an inferior one without a place in a new world order.

Reservation life changed many aspects of Indian behavior. One important shift occurred in the division of labor between women and men. On reservations, men’s traditional labor--hunting and warfare--lost significance. Men continued to hunt, but game was scarce and became more so as the years passed. The men usually were able to provide their families with meat, but they no longer traded in furs. In addition, accepting peace on white men’s terms meant that warriors were acknowledging their inability to defend their families. As a result, political and religious leaders, as well as the warriors themselves, suffered greatly from shame.”

- Marylynn Salmon, “The Limits of Republicanism: Racial Conflicts in the North, South, and West.” in The Limits of Independence: American Women, 1760-1800

[bonny-kookoo]

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

[flamingo-writes]

It's Better When The Sun Goes Down — Nanami x Reader

This is a piece for the Anilysium Server NSFW Collab! Make sure to check the masterlist to see other writer's works! This month's prompt was: "I can't hold back anymore"

I'd like to dedicate this fanfic to one of my dearest and closest friends. I'm not a Nanami simp myself, but they are. And I have fun writing for Nanami, and also I love writing angsty things and flawed characters. Reg, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoy my more casual writing.

(it's pink bcs youre Chancho)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Mentions of breakup and heartbreak, alcohol and drug consuption, public sex, ghosting, lots and lots of angst. This does not have a happy ending. This is also non proof read bcs I kinda left it to the last minute I'm sorry, I'll go back and edit it when I am not in a rush dcj nd

Summary: Nanami’s return to the Sorcerer life wasn’t so bad. It could be better if Gojo wasn’t determined to get him back with his ex. As Nanami tries to get on good terms with them, things get out of control, only to end up where it all began.

I made this playlist while writing, in case you wanna listen to it while reading. Preferably listen to it without the shuffle, but you can hear it on shuffle, no biggie.

Nanami had forgotten how painfully unbearable Gojo could be. His return as a Sorcerer had been nothing out of the ordinary for a Sorcerer's standards. Missions here and there, or watching over some of Gojo's students. But God, he had surely stepped out of the line this time.

He couldn't even begin to explain how much he hated his current situation. Fighting by your side for the first time in years felt like rubbing hot oil on an open wound. The uncomfortable ignoring the elephant in the room between you two, as you two tracked and fought what felt like a million Curses.

When the adrenaline was at its peak, it felt almost nostalgic; though he'd then remembered everything else and immediately made his own reality bitter and awkward. Overshadowed by the advantage of years of experience ahead of him made him resent you even more. He knew it was childish and pointless to keep remembering everything that happened between you two, but that bittersweet memory would most likely keep him at bay.

You were still strong, witty, fearless, reckless and quick to act and defend yourself. The way you moved looked more swiftly and coordinated than you did back in your student days. Almost as if you were a professional dancer. He hated every bit of it. He couldn’t stop looking at you, thinking about you, and the possibilities of what you two would have become.

After the mission was over, no words were exchanged between you two. Aside from the: "Are you alright?" He told you as you simply gave him a thumbs up as you caught your breath drenched in sweat. An entire ride in an uncomfortable silence, until he reached the school and you got out of the car.

"Thanks. You did a great job. Keep it up" You said. Cold, and straight to the point. Closing his car door before he could reply. And soon, you were gone.

As Nanami tried to get his mind off the mission, Gojo made it difficult. He called him to ask for the details of the mission. He seemed amused and intrigued, as clearly you hadn't told him shit. And honestly, he could understand why. Gojo was meddling on things that weren’t his business, and things that had died a long time ago.

"Why are you interrogating me, Gojo?" He asked as he pressed hisnfingers on the bridge of his nose. "Ask your underling…"

"Because that jerk left for the bar as soon as they arrived" He explained. "And I know better than to annoy a drunk [Name], It took me a while but...I finally learned my lesson" He chuckled. “I knew they could hit hard, but damn, I had a big ass bruise…” Nanami could almost hear his stupid grin.

"You make it sound like it's a recurrent event" Nanami pointed out, slightly surprised as he didn't know you were a drinker.

"Oh, Nanami-kun, you really know nothing huh?" Gojo said, smiling widely as he had managed to manipulate Nanami into asking.

"Know what?" Nanami hissed as he now swore he could hear Nanami creepily grinning at his phone.

"No, nothing!” Gojo said as if it were nothing; trying and succeeding at peeking at Nanami’s curiosity “I'm not gonna talk over depressing things on the phone. Gotta go, bye! Kith kith, Kento-kun" Gojo sang and hung up, as he smirked, proud of his little mischief. He sighed deeply as he stretched in his bed. "Soon, those two will be back together" he smirked to himself.

Nanami hissed a curse under his breath as he locked his phone and threw it on his bed and went to the kitchen. If he had understood well, Gojo had just hinted at a possible drinking problem. He tried shaking his mind off of it. You couldn't, could you? You weren’t a drinker...You weren’t the last time he saw you. You were able to party and have fun without having to intoxicate yourself.

You were wild, cheerful, unpredictable. Everything he was not. And that’s what had made him fall in love with you back in your school days. You were so laid back, he could feel it permeating into him when you two hung out. The few times he’d broken rules was because you’d been the bad influence, however, you somehow managed to get away with it, and leave him with some distant memory in which he felt actually glad to be alive. He usually felt like he was walking on a cloud stuck in time, being present and enjoying the little things that made his everyday memories.

He’d really screwed up after breaking up with you...if he could call that a breakup... His life took a dramatic turn. And then, he turned his back to this world, and got immersed in the gray life the average man in Japan had. Away from what he's familiar with, away from his friends, away from you.

And now, apparently, you had a drinking habit. He wondered if he had caused it, or if he was one of the reasons behind it. The guilt started creeping in. The same guilt and regret he felt after ghosting on you. Not being able to bring himself to properly end things with you.

The guilt he’d managed to swipe under the rug for so many years creeped back out, and followed him around as the afternoon went by. After having a shower, changing into more comfortable clothes and in a lame attempt to cook dinner, he decided to test his luck. He put on a dark button down shirt and decided to go to the bar closest to the School. He felt the naive hope to find you there. However, if you had an actual problem, then his chances to see you there were higher.

Such was his surprise to find you there, trying to get rid of some insistent guy who kept talking to you despite your very obvious lack of interest. Before you could spot him, he watched you aggressively turn to the guy and talk to him in a rather rude tone. Sounding almost like a moody sailor as the guy’s face soon was washed with horror and disgust and walked away. As you turned your face back to your drink, your eyes scanned the bar, finally spotting him.

“Oh god” You whined as you pulled the glass to your lips. “It’s too early to be this drunk…” You hissed.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing at the chair in front of you.

“Tell Gojo to go fuck himself…” You snapped at him as you stood up and stumbled your way to the bar asking for a refill. Nanami looked at you, feeling slightly sorry for your tipsy state, as he’d never seen you like that. And he knew being mad and drunk was never a good combination. As you turned around with your glass and made your way back to your table, you gave him a slightly repulsed smile. “You’re still here…”

“Gojo didn’t send me here, if that’s what you’re thinking” He replied.

“He might as well have manipulated you into doing so, has that crossed your mind?” You said with a sassy tone as you sat back down. “Why are you still standin’?”

Nanami took that as an invitation as he ignored your last comment, trying to refuse the idea that Gojo had manipulated him.

“Rough day, huh?” He said as you nodded and stared at your drink.

“Look, Kento. I’m glad that you’re back. I really am. You’re strong, and you’re smart…” You began. “But I’m gonna cut the chase, I’m kinda annoyed too. Ever since you got back, Gojo has been sticking his snobby nose into my business” You explained. “Many of the missions he sends you in, I’m supposed to be there as well, but manage to get busy by then and not go”

“So you’re actively avoiding me?”

“Yes” You replied bluntly. “Mostly because Gojo is trying very hard to bring us back together. But no, I learned my lesson the first time” You said taking a sip to your scotch, feeling it smoothly sliding down your throat, no longer feeling the burn from the alcohol.

“I haven’t apologized for that…” Nanami began.

“Don’t” You interrupted him. “It’s better this way”

“Are you sure? Because you still seem to have an issue with it…” Nanami said, managing to read you like an open book like he always did. He still had that ability.

You glared at him, angrily as you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but your mind was foggy and a big portion of your brain was focused on the little details surrounding him. His black shirt, the first buttons undone. His thick wrists, one of them hiding underneath a fancy looking watch, his blond hair pushed back, his sharp features...And god, his smell. The smell of his cologne luring you in like a fly to honey. Since any words made it to your mouth, your next step was to take another sip.

“You’re drinking too fast” He pointed out.

“None of your business” You said standing up and taking your wallet out and leaving a few bills on the tale. “I’m out” You said coldly and walked out of the bar.

Nanami sighed, frustrated that he hadn’t managed to get anything out of interaction. Aside from the pretty clear fact that you disliked him. However, he didn’t think of the possibility of you resenting him so much because you still had feelings for him.

As you walked out of the bar, the chilly wind hit the back of your neck, making you shiver. You cursed, knowing it was going to make you feel drunker faster. You made your way to the school with long steps, trying to make it to your dorm before your last drink made it to your head. Despite the cold wind, the hot tears in your eyes in a way kept your face warm. As you tried to keep yourself from crying, you heard steps behind you.

“Wait” You heard Nanami’s voice calling behind you as you stopped on command, against your own will. You swallowed the lump on your throat and managed to keep the tears still in your eyes, as you refused to look at

him. “At least let me walk you home. You can’t walk on your own like this…”

“Oh, so now you care?” You said turning around and looking at him, giving him a smug smile. “You’ve changed” You scoffed bitterly.

“Please” He said, knowing better than trying to argue with you.

Your stare on him softened, as something within you urged you to say yes. To have more time with Nanami and maybe cling to the bittersweet memories you were constantly reliving since his return.

“Fine” You said, very much to his surprise. He smiled and walked closer to you with the gentle smile that had been haunting your dreams as of lately.

“C’mon. My car is not far from here…”

You stopped coldly as he mentioned a car. Taking a second look at him, you wondered how much he’d changed. He’d become an adult through and through, hadn’t he? While you were still a mess...Or so you thought. To Nanami’s eyes, you were a far better sorcerer and warrior than him. And he envied you for it.

“Are you actually going to take me to the school?” You asked, suddenly growing suspicious of him, as you’d had plenty of experiences with strangers on the street and knew better than going into someone’s car in a drunken state.

Not that you didn’t trust Nanami. You didn’t trust yourself drunk.

“I was actually thinking of taking you somewhere for dinner and then to the school” He said.

“Not hungry”

“No, but you’re drunk. It’ll sober you up, and tomorrow morning you’ll thank me when you wake up without a hangover” He said as he walked towards his car.

“I don’t have any more money on me” You lied, looking for an excuse to avoid spending any more than necessary with him.

“I didn’t ask you if you have money” He said boldly as he managed to make you smirk for the first time since his return.

“Smooth, Nanami. You’ve grown” You said as you followed him.

The walk to his car felt like your chest burnt far more than the alcohol ever did. It felt bitter, it hurt and was nauseating. Was it really it, or was it the alcohol finally catching up with you? Like flashes of instant memories being erased from your memory, the drive to a restaurant felt like a poorly edited foreign film. The car felt like some intense themed park ride as you felt dizzy with the alcohol whispering everything you missed about him. It was gross and it was sickening.

The Ramen sign on the outside on itself managed to sober you up a little by taking your mind off Nanami. As you followed him, clumsily standing on your feet, you sat on one of the tables and tried to make sense of the dancing letters in the menu. More flashes of memories were taken off your head, as you wondered what was happening and how drunk were you for you to start blacking out.

“Not good…” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you say something?” Nanami asked.

“No. Nothing”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m not”

“You’ll feel better in a bit. Don’t worry…” He said softly as he sipped from a soda you didn’t know he had. When had he ordered it? You looked in front of you to the nice surprise that you had one too despite not knowing how or when. “I ordered some ramen for you. Something spicy...It’ll sober you up faster”

You chuckled as you looked at him.

“And how do you know that?” You asked with a cheeky tone as he smiled softly.

“Went drinking a lot with friends from work” He said. “I learned a few things here and there”

More brief black outs kept lazily painting a rather miserable painting in your memory. As you ate your ramen, you found yourself relaxing more and more. Was it the hot spicy broth? In the beginning, the balck outs weren’t getting any less frequent, however, as the night went by, you found yourself sobering up like he said. Soon, the black outs were gone, however you were still somehow locked in a haze. Although it made sense. The amount of booze as well as the short time, it was going to take a lot more than just one hot bowl of spicy ramen to get you back to a sober state.

The conversation kept flowing comfortably as both of you ate. It was reminiscent of the old days, nostalgic and somehow morbid. As the both of you tried to grasp at the old days when your worries were limited to school work. Catching up like old friends who hadn't seen each other, as if you didn’t have hard feelings for each other.

After having finished your food, Nanami paid for both of your meals and went back out into the cold night. The sky black, stars hidden by the streetlights as you made it to his car and finally noticed the silver color in it.

As he drove back to the school, you noticed he took a small detour, instantly setting alarms in your head.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your voice considerably serious as he noticed the change in tone from the pleasant talk they were having in the restaurant.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to go…” He said as he briefly looked at you and gave you a tender smile.

That smile made your heart uncomfortably skip a beat as you hated the effect he still had on you. You didn’t dare to ask any further as you slowly recognized the route he was taking. As he slowly took one of the roads towards the edge of the city close to the coast line. He stopped in a rather deserted place, as he got off the road and stopped the car.

Despite the lack of light, aside from the few streetlights, you knew exactly where you were. A whole in your chest opened dramatically as you felt your eyes tear up and happy memories attached to the location flooded your mind.

“Kento…” You said chuckling bitterly.

“When I said I wanted to apologize, I meant it…” He said as you clenched your jaw and looked out your window, avoiding his stare.

“And I told you I didn’t want to talk about it…”

“You’re still upset about it, I get it. And I don’t blame you” He began as he felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Look at me, please”

You wanted to say something to him. But you knew you would break down crying as soon as you opened your mouth. You took a deep breath and without saying anything you looked at him. His dark brown eyes gazing into yours, as he was looking at you with a rather pained stare.

“You remember this place, don’t you?” He asked.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clicked your seatbelt, getting it off.

“I’m done” You said dryly as you opened the door and got out of the car.

“No, [Name]. Please, wait” He said as he mirrored your movements and excited the car walking around it.

“Of fuckign course I know where I am, Kento” You barked as you walked away approaching the door. “I know where I lost my fucking virginity, okay?” You barked as you stopped coldly and looked at him, tears finally streaming off your face. “Look, I’ll make us a favour and summarize this conversation. Yes, you’re a fucking asshole for just taking off one day and completely disappearing. Yes, I’m still mad about it. No, I won’t take your apology. No, I don’t care about whatever shitty excuse you have for me to listen to you. You bringing me here out of all places isn’t going to change shit…” You spat all in one breath as you stopped and took a deep breath.

“I loved you, Kento. I really did. And it hurt to have you just dissipate like you were a hallucination or something...You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything! And one day I lost all of that. You ruined sex for me!” You yelled angrily. “I could never hold, kiss or sleep with anyone, because at some point I’d see your stupid face, and then be incredibly underwhelmed because I would not enjoy sex. I can’t feel anything anymore, Kento...The only way I can actually enjoy those things is by getting drunk or high” You admitted. “I can’t walk into bookstores, nor eat sandwiches or diet coke, nor drink tea because all those things remind me of you. And yes, it’s lame that all these years later I still care about those things. And this is why I can’t forgive you” You cried, as your voice shook.

Nanami’s heart broke little by little at each one of your words. He knew he’d screwed up and had hurt you deeply. But he wasn’t aware of the actual impact. He clenched his jaw as he felt his chest tight and a lump on his throat. Now the drinking problem made sense. Gojo had painted it like you were an alcoholic, but it wasn’t exactly the case. So you’d gone to the bar to get it off with some stranger, probably pretending it was him.

The dizzying pain and weight of his mistakes blinded him for a second as he walked towards you as you kept bitterly complaining. As you tried to walk away, you made a very poor effort as he caught up with you and cupped your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him and shutting you up by pressing his lips against you.

The sudden surprise made your heart stop. Your mind turning numb and blank at once as you struggled to bring yourself to push him away. However, truth be told, you didn't want to push him away. The poor attempt to push him away was more than obvious. The strong fighter you were, barely making any physical effort. Nanami's hands wrapped around your back and pulled you close, squeezing you against him as he sighed into the kiss.

Finally kissing him back, you locked your lips against his desperately, eager to taste the lips you've been dreading in your dreams. Clinging to him like he was going to disappear again, a soft whimper escaped your mouth. Your chest pressing against him as he felt his own world getting blurry.

He broke the kiss pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how much I missed you” He whispered as you clung to him.

“I-I…” You stuttered, the words tasting bitter before they even made it to your mouth. “Fuck, I want you, Kento” You growled as he pulled you in, kissing you hungrily again.

His hands posessively clinging to you as he slowly guided you back to the car. One step at the time as you both melted in a hungry sour kiss. As you ran out of breath, you pulled away, gasping for air as you gripped his collar in your hands.

“I can’t hold back anymore” You said as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, walking back to his car.

Your words unleashed a shiver down his spine as his heart skipped a beat and raced like crazy, as his pants started feeling tighter on his crotch. He chuckled softly as he realized his own judgement seemed to have disappeared with that first kiss. And before you could even make it to his car, he gripped your hips and spun you around as he bumped his forehead against yours.

“I can’t either” He admitted as he guided you to the car’s hood and pulled you over it. Ass you sat on the warm hood, he got between your legs and you wasted no time wrapping them around his waist. He grunted softly feeling your crotch against his as you pulled him closer to seal your lips together.

As you soon were absorbed by the dizziness of your rising heat, his hand went to your bare thighs as he slowly caressed your skin, going up and lifting your skirt up in the process. A soft moan slid into his mouth as he gripped your ass softly and squeezed it. The way your skin got covered in goosebumps and how you jerked your hips made him moan in response.

It felt good, and intoxicating. The driving desire burning his insides. The feeling of desiring to taste you all over and have you shaking underneath him. God, he’d missed that particular rush of adrenaline. His body reacting to the deeply buried memories now loose. He felt like he was in the best high he’d experienced. Lightheadedness and presence in the moment, he hadn’t felt this alive in so long.

Your hands were slowly undoing his buttoned shirt and were quick to explore his warm skin. He pulled away from the kiss, gasping as he looked at you. Your devilish smile matching your hungry stare. You leaned forward kissing his neck, nibbling on his skin every now and then. His hand gripped your hair tightly, pulling it lightly, making you look up at him as he stared at you.

He leaned forward, kissing you once more, this time a lot more slow and a lot more tender. It was sweet and it was slow and it took you by surprise. You felt his sweet kiss begging you, still holding on to the feelings you both decided to drown unsuccessfully. It almost hurt. It was the kind of kiss that told you how much you missed and needed each other. How much you regretted the mistakes you’ve done.

As you melted against his lips, his hands slowly slid your panties off. You helped him lifting your hips a little but as you giggled against his lips.

“Eager?” You said with a playful smirk.

“You have no idea” He replied as he took off your panties and shoved them in his back pocket.

His hand made it back to your thigh, slowly going up until he palmed your hot sex. Stealing a gasp out of your mouth, he teasingly ran one of his fingers through your dripping slit, making him smile satisfied.

“I’m not the only one, huh?” He said as you looked at him with lustful eyes.

You took his glasses off and set them aside. You were about to go back to kissing his neck when he slid one finger inside of you effortlessly. A rather loud moan escaped your lips as you shut your eyes closed feeling your entire body tingle in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You smiled satisfied as you continued kissing his neck. Slowly, he got another finger inside. The delicious stretch of his second finger prompting you to bite his neck softly making him growl your name softly. His fingers explored the whole he knew so well, as he found your sweet spot almost by muscle memory. More moans came out of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

“Fuck, Kento” You hissed as you took off your top, not caring that you were outdoors and by the road. Up to this point, you were so pent up, you simply craved him like you’d never craved anything before.

Nanami wasted no time and kissed your neck, going down to your neck, gently biting your skin every now and then. Sucking delicately on your skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t last long. He pulle dhis fingers out of you, clinging to your body desperately. As you laid on the car’s hood, you devoured him with your lustful eyes, begging him to get on top of you. Wearing just your skirt by this point, Nanami groaned at the plain sight of you.

He undid his belt and his pants. Your hands playfully teasing your own body in an attempt to drive him crazier and crazier. He cursed under his breath as he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled his painfully hard erection out of his pants. You watched hi, intrigued, stretching your hands towards him, gently gripping his dick. His breath hitched and you smiled proudly.

Nanami leaned over the car hood, slowly getting on top of you, his shaft resting on your belly as he looked at how much deep could he go inside of you. His tip almost reaching you belly button, as the idea alone made a shiver run down his spine.

"Please, Kento" you gasped, need dripping from your voice as you caressed his dick

He growled softly as he pulled away softly, aligning against your entrance and slowly going in. You gasped, pushing your head back and pressing your hips against his making him go deeper.

Hissing your name, he jerked his hips, his tip.kissing your cervix as sudden rush of pain jolted through your body, followed by pleasure. You dug your nails in his shoulders as he thrusted back and forth, hitting all the right spots. The sound of his gasps and grunts hypnotizing as you got wetter by the second. His length coated in your juices, echoing in lewd wet noises.

He was rough. He usually was. Back in student days, he was particularly rough. As quiet and collected as he seemed, he sure got his stress out if his body through wild sex.

Relentlessly pushing against you, stretching you in such a delicious way only he knew how. Strong and aggressive movements as your walls swallowed him whole every time, breathless moans escaping your lips with every push. The cool wind kissing your skin, only enhancing his warmth.

As you felt your orgasm progressively approaching, the realization of how addicted you were to him hit you. He was everything you desired. And it was wrong. Before the feeling of uneasiness started to sink in, a sudden electric rush ran through your body. Painfully and soothing, as you tightly clenched around himbsoon numbed your mind.

As you came around him, your walls sucked him in tightly, as he was right over the brink, your velvet flesh pushed him off the edge. He didn't have time to pull out. And honestly, he didn't want to pull out. The way your walls milked him felt delicious. As he rode you through your orgasm, filling you up as his head felt dizzy and the world was spinning faster than usual. His hot seed coating your insides, as you shut your eyes closed, feeling the very last of your orgasm fading away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Loud pants echoing.

However, the world didn't quite return to its regular focus.

The rest of the night went by in a fuzzy hot mess of events. You returned to his apartment and kept feasting on each other, making up for the lost time. Both of you incredibly starved and needy, you desperately went at it over and over again. It was a rather long night. As you feared, no one made you feel as he did. All of him was addicting. His smell, his voice, his warmth, his skin...It didn’t matter how many strangers you fucked, or how drunk or high you were, he felt just right. He made you cum so easily, it seemed ridiculous everyone else couldn’t.

But you knew it was far more than that.

You were still deeply in love with him. No wonder why he had that effect on you. Just hearing his breathlessly gasp was enough to have you soaking wet and under his mercy. Between sweet kisses, fake promises and sweaty sex, he quite literally fucked you to oblivion. Until either of you could take it any longer and you two fell asleep in each other’s arms. It had been a long tiring night, as you knew many of your muscles were gonna be sore the next day. Your chest painted in red and blue bruises.

It was possibly one of the best night sleeps he’d had. In such a long time. The uncomfortable hole in his chest didn’t feel so wide now. Just like you, he didn’t know how much he actually needed you until now. His regrets, his guilt, the thoughts haunting him on how much of a jerk he’d been when he simply took off...All those feelings went away for a night. As he tasted the wonders of the universe under your skin. Feeling ecstatic and euphoric for the first time in years. However, nothing could’ve prepared Nanami for what he was about to experience when he woke up.

~

“What the hell is this?” Gojo asked as he waved around the folder you’d left a few hours earlier in the Headmaster’s office.

“Why the fuck do you care?” You said as you grabbed it, ripping it off his hands.

“You’re seriously leaving for Kyoto?” He whined.

“So my transfer was accepted? Great!” You said sarcastically as you opened the folder and saw the Headmaster’s seal at the bottom.

“What about Nanami-kun?” Gojo replied as the very last string of your patience snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Gojo! You tried to force us back together, but it’s not going to happen” You snapped. “I’m done. I’m done with him, and I’m done with you sticking your nose in my business”

“Do you really think that running away will solve anything? You’ll still be depressed as hell”

“The less I know about him, the better” You said as you turned around, hot tears blurring your sight as you headed with long steps towards your room. “I don’t trust myself around him…” You whispered. “He’s my weakness Gojo, I can’t let that happen…” You said coldly.

You’d left that morning very early, before Nanami woke up. And you left leaving no trace of you ever being there. Unintentionally doing the same he did. It was unintentional because you hadn’t done it out of spite. Your thought process had been simply. You preferred to not have that conversation and simply leave without him noticing. You had had the exact same thought process Nanami had had all those years ago.

You didn’t waste time and soon started packing your things to leave for Kyoto right away.

[marmalade-mir]

MIRA I WATCHED THE THIRD LORE STREAM!! why was quackity blowing up purpled's ufo so so shocking and scary. and also a little bit funny. i am thinking but i do not have thoughts. please share any comments or thoughts 🎤

I am answering this long, long after I actually got this but. Since I know this anon is quackinquack (who knows that I’ve had this in my drafts for ages and wants to read it anyways), buckle up for this one because I went a little off the rails like oops I hardly talk about the third lore stream At All and it’s like 1500 words long and it’s really more like a character analysis of why c!Quackity behaved the way he did in that stream than anything. Because it was rather shocking, wasn’t it?

Since you brought up Quackity blowing up the UFO specifically, I would like to talk about the parallels between 1. him blowing up the UFO and 2. him letting Foolish die. In both cases, he’s taking away things from them that have been taken away from him in the past by other people: his life and his home. He leaves them feeling like they have nothing, like they have nowhere to go—the exact same way he felt right after Doomsday.

After New L’manberg blew up, Quackity was displaced from the land he called home and, perhaps more importantly, from its people. The cabinet had shared experiences. Shared history. Shared memories—good and bad. Dream, Techno, and Philza didn’t just destroy the land when they blew New L’manberg to pieces. They destroyed any sense of community that was salvaged since the last time it had been blown up.

See, the people of L’manberg still had hope after November 16th because they still had each other. Walking through the rubble and remains of their fallen country in bittersweet silence, Quackity and Tubbo looked towards each other and saw the promise of a better future. A new era.

But in the face of great and inescapable catastrophe, even the strongest communities will disintegrate. What can a person do in the face of inescapable, large-scale crisis? And, if they do make it out alive… how do you even move forward from that? In cases of individual wounds and minor abrasions, a community can offer support, comfort, a space to heal. But when the entire community faces mass tragedy? When everyone is just as lost and frantic and busy trying to work out their own shit? When its not just an issue of individual trauma, but of collective grief? Wounds have a harder time healing when there’s no one there to help treat them.

True to it’s name, Doomsday meant New L’manberg—and everyone in it—was doomed. Unlike the aftermath of November 16th, there wouldn’t be any coming back from this. There wouldn’t be any plot twists or big heroic moments or last minute saviors to turn everything around. Even the few people still loyal to the moribund nation knew it was a lost cause. Quackity was a prime example of this. By the start of Doomsday, Quackity had almost given up on… well, everything. To quote him, "I don’t know how it would work. So maybe it’s just time to take a step back and just-just leave. Not just L’manberg… maybe everything. Maybe it’s worth just… not being anywhere."

He was already painfully aware of just how politically and physically weak New L’manberg looked to the rest of the server; appeasing Dream for so long had only further proved that they could be hung up on strings and made to dance with a single threat. Here he learned that in order to be safe and in order to be taken seriously, they needed to be seen as powerful. And in spite of taking such extreme measures (the Butcher Army and the hitlist and all the blood it would take to make them feel safe again) to achieve that appearance of power, he still failed. Full netherite armor, and he couldn’t defeat a barely-armed Technoblade. The point is: he knew more than anyone on Doomsday just how futile it would be to fight against the most powerful people on the server without being powerful himself.

(He decides to fight back anyway. For L’manberg. For his ideologies. For the minutes man’s little book that read "Why does one person care so much about power?" For El Rapids and Tommy and Tubbo and not letting Dream get away with everything again.)

(…it goes as expected. The crater left behind this time is even emptier than the last.)

And after Doomsday? There was a long period of time where he just didn’t know what to do. He’d been fighting for a losing country for so long, only for it to be blown to bits before his very eyes. So he takes his horse and just wanders for months and months alone, in the wilderness, with no home to return to.

Until, finally, finally—Las Nevadas.

Or, in his own words: "It was either starting this new chapter, or rotting away in self-pity."

It’s blatantly clear and honestly rather alarming how Quackity views Las Nevadas as his final chance. To him, it’s his last attempt at having a home, having a legacy, having meaning. Without Las Nevadas, he has nothing—he is nothing.

(He has people. He has nothing, but he has people. There’s Karl, and Sapnap, and George, and they had been through hell and back together fighting for El Rapids. Finally he has a meaning again, and he’ll share it with them again, and he’ll build a wedding chapel and an Eiffel tower and a karaoke stage with his fiancés in mind, and he’ll finally get married and settle down, and it will be everything he promised El Rapids would be but never was, and it will be their home—

—but it’s been hard getting in contact with them lately.)

(Later, George looks him in the eyes and tells him Kinoko Kingdom is thriving without him. All casual, and unassuming, like he’s telling him about the goddamn weather. And when George asks him if he wants to visit, Quackity can hardly even think clearly enough to muster up a shaky smile and say “that’s really great, maybe some other time!" If George hears the poorly concealed quiver in his voice he doesn’t mention it. It makes sense, it makes sense. He should’ve known.)

He’s lost everything, time and time again. His life, his home, his loved ones. And he’s rebuilt, time and time again. But whether it be through slow erosion or quick obliteration, the past taught him that destruction is imminent in all but one’s legacy. Las Nevadas is his last chance at that. His last chance to prove everyone wrong—prove that he’s worth something. This time around he’ll be more than a vice president, more than a cleaner or concierge, more than "Schlatt’s bitch" or a fat ass or cheap laugh or good time. And so he lives by this twisted ultimatum that goes: "If this nation dies, I die with it." Success or death.

So… a lot of the measures Quackity takes in this current arc are just… really, really fucking desperate. He’s horribly afraid of dying but he’s using his life as a bargaining chip anyway, because what else does he have to offer?

He taunts, demeans, and degrades Foolish even at the lethal end of a trident. He breathlessly reminds Purpled just how easy it would be to put his sword through his skull and leave, all with a frantic smile plastered on his face. He cons Technoblade, the very person who he’s lived and died in fear of, without so much as a single piece of armor on his being. Even before his meeting with Glatt, Quackity was scared. But he goes deeper into the cave anyway. Because he won’t let emotions get in the way of business, and because he’s got a big country with no one in it. Because he’s alone.

And if he has to gamble his own life away for one last shot at success? If he has to cheat, manipulate, and blackmail? If he has to stack the cards in his favor with his own two hands? So be it.

(There was once a time when he wanted a fast wedding. Even back then, when he still clung to the hope that those three little engagement rings promised him, he knew it might not have been enough to keep them by his side. Marriage, on the other hand? Marriage would be more than a flimsy "promise" that you’d always have each others best interests at heart. No more "You know me, you know I would never do anything that disadvantages you" and no more "Deep down, you know I would never betray you, Quackity." It was a contract, a legal binding of sorts. It was safety and belonging and love in the form of papers, law, and a solid silver ring wrapped around his finger, all with a big, showy diamond on top. Marriage was… dependable. Trustworthy. Everything people weren’t.)

(Three failed engagements, going on four. It’s almost funny how he thought the fourth time would be the charm, huh?)

And thus we return to present-day Las Nevadas. The spaces where Karl, Sapnap, and George were once supposed to live are now occupied by almost-strangers, near-enemies, and the contractually-obliged. While recruiting people like Purpled, Foolish, Fundy, and even Tubbo, it is very evident how Quackity has weaponized his own accumulation of grief. He projects it heavily onto those that he sees "potential" in—people similar to himself in some intrinsic, irremovable way. Maybe it’s the desire for a legacy, maybe it’s the hope for a place where they won’t be so lonely anymore... maybe it’s the aching need for direction which accompanies the listless wandering one does after losing a life and a home.

Quackity knows what it’s like to be vulnerable. He thinks he’ll use it to his advantage this time around.

[bipercabeth]

48 for percabeth! I hope u feel better about the show

Annabeth has known that Percy was going to die from the moment she met him. Four summers. Best case scenario. 

Twelve-year-old Annabeth wasn’t particularly concerned about falling in love with the trouble-making son of Poseidon who drooled in his sleep. Freshly sixteen Annabeth sometimes wishes she had opted for the quiet life some children of Athena prefer: strategize, keep your head down, live a comfortable and unremarkable life. She hardly would’ve crossed paths with Percy outside of the occasional class or Capture the Flag. He and Grover could’ve found someone else to be their best friend, or maybe they would’ve bonded as a pair. And Annabeth would have kept her distance from Percy in the name of self-preservation, knowing they would only have four bittersweet summers together at best. 

The summer before the Titan War is not the best case scenario. Percy is hardly ever at camp except for quests and Kronos-related meetings. He chooses to spend what they both know is his last of their four measly summers away from Annabeth. Grover is nowhere to be found, Thalia is with the Hunters, Luke is hosting the Titan Lord, and Annabeth feels more like a scared little girl than she has in a long time. At least she isn’t the runaway. That title fell to Percy. 

It feels like an insult to Annabeth’s love for Percy to wish they hadn’t met. She is so much better for having loved him. For loving him—present tense. But she says this while he’s still here. His smile may not be directed at her that often, but he still smiles. Sometimes Annabeth can even stomach the jealousy of Rachel being the cause of that smile, because at least someone is giving him joy before this all goes to shit. When it does, maybe Annabeth will understand what it means to wish him away, if only to end the pain of having known and lost a person like Percy Jackson. 

The feeling isn’t new. Annabeth’s gut has twisted in previous conversations where someone would bring up high school and college plans. Percy would talk animatedly about getting his license at sixteen, and Annabeth was left with a dry mouth she could not twist into a smile. He would beam at Beckendorf’s plans to attend NYU in the fall and make the older boy promise to swing by Sally’s sometime. Even Beckendorf, who had never heard the full Great Prophecy, could not stop the microexpression of pity. 

When Annabeth first heard the prophecy, it was too much for her ten year old mind. There was no face to connect to the doomed fate, no cursed blade to reap the hero’s soul. Sometimes her young brain conjured an image of Thalia, but that was a nightmare of its own. Every night, Annabeth would watch Olympus fall at the hands of someone she hoped never to know. 

She still gets those nightmares, only the visuals have improved. Percy is in every single one of them, saving or razing Olympus depending on the night. He never survives. You cannot outrun fate. Annabeth has tried. 

Still, she is a daughter of Athena, and Athena always has a plan. When Percy dies, Annabeth will fall to pieces. In a lucky string of events, she might fall alongside him. It’s a war, after all. But she has a sneaking suspicion that she will outlive him. She has a plan for this as well. The shroud they made when he was stranded on Calypso’s island was nice and communal, leagues ahead of the one the Ares cabin shroud that still makes Annabeth’s blood boil. But deep in her soul, Annabeth knows that she alone will make his shroud. Just as she’ll burn it; just as she’ll care for Sally in his stead; just as she will lay blue roses on his headstone every time she’s in the neighborhood; just as she’ll be there for Grover, for Clarisse, for all of camp when he’s gone. She will do it alone. Annabeth held the sky, once. She will shoulder this as well. How much heavier could losing her best friend be than the weight of the world? In her anticipation, they feel the same. 

She will build a monument for him, something to last the ages as he was supposed to, as permanent as the love he has given her. It will overlook the gods on Olympus, a reminder of the boy they failed. The boy who was too good for them all. Regardless of how the war goes, this will always be true. 

He was never built to last. Nothing good ever can, and he’s been burning the candle at both ends for a while now. He was meant to burn bright, not long. 

Annabeth sits in the dark of the Big House rec room, the only quiet space now that camp is in full war preparation. Well, the only quiet space apart from the beach, but Annabeth knows the smell of salt air and the sound of waves will be her undoing. That is another key feature of her plan: never go to the ocean again. 

She curls her knees into her chest, feeling every inch the child that she is. But children are not supposed to have plans for their best friend dying. Children are not supposed to have their first kiss out of fear that said best friend will die before their four summers are up. 

The door opens, throwing the room into harsh shadows and blinding light. 

“Um.” Annabeth can’t see who’s talking, but she’d know his voice anywhere. “Chiron said there was a war council meeting today.” 

She raises a hand to block out the light and give her eyes time to adjust. “Yeah, later.” To Annabeth’s horror, her voice is hoarse. Her throat is clogged with tears. 

Percy’s sneakers stop shifting in the carpet. “Are, uh... are you okay?” 

He sounds hesitant to ask, like he’s expecting vitriol to spew from Annabeth’s mouth. And, in fairness, sometimes it does. But Annabeth doesn’t have vitriol in her right now. The awareness that she does not have many days left with Percy is painfully acute. To spend them angry feels like a waste. 

“No, I’m not.” By now her eyes have adjusted to the light, and she looks at him through bleary eyes. 

Percy stills when he sees her face, looking ready to bolt. He points to the door. “Do you want me to...?”

Annabeth sniffles. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

What breaks her is how quickly he is by her side. For all their faults, it is the one thing she can count on. As long as she lets him, Percy will come to Annabeth when she’s hurting.

She doesn’t tell him how deeply that statement is carved into her, that she is carved from loneliness the same way he is carved from guilt—the pitfalls of pride and loyalty. 

A kid carved from loneliness cannot plan to be held the way that Percy holds Annabeth. Such a selfless love was unfathomable as a little girl; how could she ever have accounted for it? He just... holds her. He doesn’t try to talk or look at her face. He’s just there, unwaveringly. It kills Annabeth to know he won’t always be. It hurts to be with him, but it will hurt so much more to be without him. 

The dam breaks, and Annabeth sobs into Percy’s shoulder. He’s taller than her now, grown only to be cut down young. Still, he is steadfast, grounded, secure in his roots. The way a towering oak has no reason to fear a chainsaw until the cutting has already begun. 

“You’re my best friend,” she tells him, because she’s not sure she’s ever said it and it’s something he deserves to hear. “No matter what, you’re my best friend.” 

Percy strokes a gentle hand along the back of Annabeth’s head. “And you’re mine,” he assures her. He doesn’t say you’re my best friend too. Just you’re mine. As if the fact doesn’t haunt her. She is his, irrevocably. 

A gentle knock at the door interrupts them. Annabeth recognizes Silena’s quiet footfalls and almost withdraws from Percy, but he makes no move to. 

Silena’s voice is soft, not smug like Annabeth expects. “War council in fifteen. Figured I’d give you two a heads up.” 

Annabeth meets her eyes over Percy’s shoulder. “Thanks.” 

The older girl ducks her head in something resembling shame. “It’s the least I can do.” She leaves. 

“How much longer?” Percy asks when the door clicks shut. It isn’t an impatient question. In fact, Annabeth doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking. 

She gives an honest answer. “However long we have left.” And the sun begins to set on the fourth summer. 

[kojinnie]

Maybe, One Day, We Will | Jean, Sasha & Connie

Summary: Before the defining Raid of Liberio mission, the Survey Corps was instructed to write their wills, and Connie reminisced the night he talked about life after the war with Jean and Sasha when they were younger.

Tags: Canon universe, coming-of-age, light angst, bittersweet.

Set: The night before Battle of Shiganshina District, parallel to Eren-Mikasa-Armin’s talk on the steps.

WC: 3.1K

A/N:  My tribute to the trio that holds a special place in my heart. Consider this my ode to all of us whose heart has been broken by Chapter 138. A slight nod to conversation in Chapter 137 (No spoiler, don’t worry!)

I suppose memory wore off eventually, and if I’d be lucky enough to survive this contemptible war, my only hope is one thing: to never lose the gift of memory over moments I hold dear in my heart. Especially the memory of that one night. The night before Shiganshina.

Connie Springer put down his quill as he marked the end of a sentence. He was quite surprised with how far bolder was this paragraph compared to its precedents, he smiled and remembered one of the things his mum said when he was younger, something about how one’s action is nothing but a mere reflection of one’s feeling, and perhaps Connie took the importance of that paragraph over the others and that’s why he put so much pressure on his quill upon writing that down.

He looked over his shoulder to catch Jean pondering over his paper across the room, looking visibly puzzled on what to write, “Oi Jean, you finished?”

He shook his head, grunting, “This feels so absurd.” The tall man leaned to his desk and dragged his gaze upwards, “To be so young and writing your own will.”

Connie hummed from his desk, affirming Jean’s dismay. The whole predicament the two men find themselves in were indeed absurd, albeit predictable. They both knew that to be immersed in the eyes of war mean bruising with deaths countless times, but with the war advancing at unprecedented rate, the notion of mortality grew even more palpable before the soldiers’ eyes. It was no surprise that at one night after a debriefing with the high-ranking officials, Hange finally caught up with the prospect of dying. The first time they had ever been so sure of death, regardless whether it would be immediate or later in this godforsaken war. The thought led Hange to saying before the rest of the Survey Corps, “Maybe we all should write our wills. To leave something behind, you know? Just in case.” Everyone remembered how the Commander threw a reassuring smile amidst such vivid qualm among them, “What could be more fulfilling than to have our stories and legacy passed down?”

And so there they were that night, all of the Survey Corps, taking their night off to write their will before the D-Day tomorrow: The Ambush of Liberio.

“Jean,” Connie called again. There was only the two of them in the common room, the rest were scattered all over Mitras. Taking their own space to write their own piece of mind before the mission, “do you remember the night before Shiganshina?”

The sounds of scribbling ceased immediately from Jean’s end, as he sighed, almost painfully, “Yeah, of course.” Jean found it eerie that there was a misplaced lightness in Connie’s voice, when his own was drowned in unspoken distress, “What about it?”

“I’m writing about it on my…” there was a hesitation in Connie’s words as his mind finally caught up with how unbecoming his reality was, “…will.”

The man of Ragako continued, “I hope after we’re gone, whoever reads this would know that we were once kids,” Connie’s voice dropped into a heavy murmur, “that had something to live for, yeah?”

Jean nodded his head as he forced a smile, although Connie wouldn’t be able to see as they were sitting opposite each other, “Sounds great. Something to prove that I’m not a suicidal maniac. Do you think Sasha is now writing about it too?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then I’ll write about it too.”

             The noise from the dining hall finally subsided after the soldiers headed back to their quarter. Despite having tonight’s tasty feast and the raucous fun that most of these soldiers were not as privileged to have often, the lingering dread remained visible among them for what awaited them tomorrow. These men and women were to head for battle against creatures they barely understood, and to reclaimed the district that most thought to be unsalvageable with the horde of titans roaming freely within.

There were also murmurs about a menacingly gigantic beast titan, one that had took the handful lives of their comrades. One that had mystical power to summon and control titans all it pleased. One that was so frightening that the brass in the likes of Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman were not at ease to disclose to the rest of the soldiers, leaving them in the dark of what may happen. The murmurs about the beast titan were persistent and these soldiers, no matter how hardened had they grown by deaths and battles all their lives, were all equally afraid.

Among them were three teenagers, barely made it out alive after their last encounter with the seemingly mythical creature. Now bound for yet another mission, they scrambled out of the dining hall. The tallest among them was slightly limping, leaning for support from the two others.

“Guys—” Jean grunted, followed by a disgraceful whimper as another step sent a sharp sting to his stomach, “—thanks for the help but would appreciate if it came sooner.”

They stopped and finally sat around when they found a comfortable spot underneath a building’s canopy, looking over to the city steps that glimmered underneath the full moon’s lights. From afar, they could see Eren, Mikasa and Armin sitting together down the steps, although the Shiganshina trio weren’t aware of their presence.

Jean finally let out an audible groan as he sat on a deserted wooden crate, the two others found comfort on the cold cobblestone.

“As you know, I was in no position to do so.” Sasha shot a jeer at Connie, to which he replied with a remorseful grin, “Sorry Sash, you were acting crazy—”

“—BUT IT’S MEAT! How could you take away my happiness like that, Connie!” the shriek was lunatic indeed and the bald boy just cackled, mouthing yet another apology for tying her up to the pole earlier tonight. Sasha was not amused, obviously, but she eventually caved in as she let out a long, deep sigh, retreating her head to Connie’s shoulder, “Could’ve been my last meat, you know?”

“Nonsense,” Jean snorted, still inspecting his stomach that was bludgeoned by Eren’s fist earlier. He would only finally surrender to the pain where no one would see other than two of his most trusted comrades.

“Yeah, Sasha. Nonsense.” Connie repeated, turning his head to Jean as he sought for reassurance, “We’re gonna survive this one. Right?”

There was a brief silence between them. It was clear that despite their best hope, they were thinking the possibilities of meeting their lethal ends with this mission. The idea of being young had never crossed their minds before – how they should not be thinking of their own death, how they should cast hope for the future – these were some distant ideas that they never got acquainted with. For these young soldiers, there were moments when they passingly imagined of being in their adulthood and what would they do by that time; but to their surprise, along with it often arrived the feeling of remorse, as if their wish to live on were nothing but wishful thinking. They had been conversant with death too early in their lives, and it had become a recurring visitor that they had to greet reluctantly.

“I really hope so…” she mumbled, her eyes gazed afar at the trio down the steps, “Must be hard for them, isn’t it?”

“Them?”

“Yeah,” Sasha raised his head from Connie’s shoulder and scooted over so she could look at both Connie and Jean, “I can’t imagine having to put up with such burden, returning to their decimated district.”

“Poor Armin and… Mikasa. And then there’s that maniac,” Jean scoffed, “he better does his job right. Tch. Such great power on meekly little hands—”

“—Jean,” the interruption was unprecedented as it was stern, Sasha was looking directly to him, “Cut it off, alright? It’s no use.”

There was a brief look of surprise from Jean that he immediately masked with a low chuckle, joined by Connie who was quick to disperse the tension.

Connie and Sasha knew how Jean felt about himself, and how hard he fought his own inner battle. His nightly mumbles of the regret and grief about the passing of Marco, and how he wished he had been better and stronger for tens of his fallen comrades. In those treacherous hours, often slipped through his lips ‘If only I had the power of the titans, I could have made a difference.’ or the seemingly vengeful, ‘If only we didn’t have to save Eren so many times.’ They both knew how calculating, cautious and capable Jean was, and how much he felt overshadowed by unfortunate circumstances, or how he’d always felt like he could have done more if only he had been given the chance to. Each time he succumbed into the dark clouds of his mind, Jean and Sasha was the voice of reason that brought him back from his own demon, ‘For greater good,’ was the convincing phrase that the two of them uttered to Jean, and for greater good did Jean thrived to drown his individual desire and pursuit.

“Let’s just focus on each other, okay?” Connie spoke reassuringly, trying to maintain the lightness in his voice no matter how somber had his heart grown to be, “The three of us. Let’s keep each other safe, okay?

There was a quick yet solemn unison between Jean and Sasha, “Okay.” they said, before a deep silence ensued. From afar, they could hear the sound of Armin from down the step, he was standing and babbling enthusiastically to Eren and Mikasa about the vast prairies of boundless salty water – where merchant could spend their whole life collecting its salt yet it would never deplete. The three of them let silence hung among them as they listened to Armin, and each tried to picture how marvelous the discovery would be. How beautiful, how magnificence would that feeling be. The greater good beyond the wall.

Intuitively they turned to look at each other and the smiles were poignant on their faces, each engulfed in their own thoughts. For a moment the idea of a vast world out there brought a keen warmth inside Connie’s chest, before it was abruptly ceased by the recognition that he no longer had anyone to return home to and tell the story about his journey. Sasha could read the pain that was growing to be visible on Connie’s face, she reached for his arms and squeezed it playfully, “Connie, don’t you think Armin’s crazy?”

“Eh?”

“Eh?” the two exchanged confusion, the similarity their minds shared was uncanny, “Don’t you think so? What kind of weird place would that be? Boundless prairie with water that never runs out of salt to mine… He’s crazy. Maybe knocked himself on the head too hard on the last mission.”

And then the three of them burst out laughing in the kind of humor only they would understand. Jean slid down from his seat and embraced his two friends closely, muttering under his breath, he spoke deeply, “I care so much about the two of you guys…”

There was no audible ‘We do too’ or the likes of it in their friendship for they already knew how they felt about each other. Sasha knew that the forest had long gone for her, and she knew that her home had now resided in the shared battles and journeys with her two best friends. She had accepted the fact that her days would never return to normalcy in the forest like what she had hoped in her early cadet days, but the thought that she would share these days as a soldier with Jean and Connie –no matter how awful or hard would those days be— never failed to bring her at ease. The thought of it made her smile again as she said, wondering, “What do you guys want to do once the war ends?”

The two boys looked at each other, puzzlement was quick to show. When would the war end? They all thought, as each of them had different imagery of what post-war life would look like. For Jean, it would simply look like his childhood: the return to that warm omelet lunch cooked by his mum, laid out on the dining table of his home that he hadn’t been for years, and the faint sound of his mum caressing his hair, ‘Eat well, Jean-boy!’; For Sasha it would simply mean a stroll down the market, buying all the juiciest meat she could buy, and then cook it for the town’s orphans. She thought of chopping down the oak tree behind her old home in the forest, and turned it into the largest dining table she had ever seen, so it would house enough seat for each orphan in the district; As for Connie, after the malady of Ragako, he thought hard what kind of life would he lead after the war ends. For a while, he had thought how meaningless would that be to stay alive after Ragako had been done for. ‘But maybe,’ he thought to himself one day, when he saw Jean and Sasha argued intensely about the best type of dish that eggs could be made into, ‘Maybe I could stay alive just to hear these two idiots argue every day. Maybe I could keep on fighting for everyday’s little, precious moment like this.’ Connie finally knew what kind of post-war life would he like to have: A future where he would no longer have to fight and kill. To have nights when his slumber would be soundly and peaceful, without the voices of death and miseries ringing inside his head no more. He hoped that one day he could tell the tales of his youth to all his grandkids, and how he defeated all the monsters with his two best friends.

“I think this might sound lame but,” Jean broke the silence, “I think I wanna buy my mum a house in the capital. She might like the fancy dwelling, you know.”

Jean and Connie nodded, acknowledging how close was Jean to her mum, and how there was no day passing without Jean regretting his bad behavior towards her during his insecure cadet days. Sasha giggled a little, to the confusion of the two boys, “For me… Maybe I wanna get married.”

The boys suddenly erupted into a fit of laughter, as Connie shrieked, “You—Sasha Braus? Married—to what?”

Sasha kicked the boy’s shin, making Connie whimpered in overdramatic tone, “Of course to a living, breathing man, you idiot.”

“Come, come Sasha, tell us what he’d look like,” amidst his laughter, Jean tried to hype her up, “so we would know what to look for.”

The girl looked up to the starless night and mumbled to herself, “Hmm… maybe… a cute… blond man…” her wondering was quick to be cut-off by the boys’ yet another voluptuous laughter.

“Whoa Sasha, that makes neither of us then! Are you sure?”

“So, like—Armin?”

“…or Commander Erwin?”

Sasha blew a raspberry in disapproval, but carried on with her imagery of whom to marry, “…who likes to cook and also good at it…”

The two boys were still immersed in their own laughter while patting Sasha’s shoulders teasingly, “Let’s stay alive together so we can meet your blond cook one day, okay?”

Sasha giggled to herself, drawing her knees to her chest and hid her face in a childish embarrassment. Jean turned to Connie and nudged him on the waist, making him flinched, tickled, “Oi Connie, your turn.”

He fell to a deep, prolonged hum, before shrugging his shoulder, “I don’t know, maybe something simple.”

“Like what?” Sasha asked, raising her face from her knees.

“Maybe I want to write a book,” Connie said, her mind wandered, “and maybe live close to you guys. Maybe I can try your mum’s legendary omelet, yeah, Jean?”

Jean chuckled in approval, letting Connie to continue, “I’ll have the neighborhood kids –or my own grandkids— come over to my house and listen to our deadly attack on titans. I’ll have Armin come over too since he’s a great story-teller.”

The three teenagers fell deeply into their imagination of how pretty that picture would be. Jean sighed, letting the two others know that there was still a sour fruit hanging in his mind, “Do you think one day someone would write a story about all these?”

“Possibly.”

“Do you think they’ll mention our names too? Jean Kirstein, Sasha Braus and Connie Springer…”

“Probably.”

“Do you think anyone would root for us?” Jean asked again, “Obviously we don’t have the power of the titans, nor are we humanity’s strongest soldiers…”

The three of them drowned into yet another deep silence. Their eyes stared afar at Eren, Mikasa and Armin who were getting ready to leave, secretly mirroring their own to them.

“Hmm,” Connie hummed, ever characteristically so, he maintained the keenness in his voice, “maybe someone would root for us because we remind them of themselves. Just ordinary people who thrive…”

Jean raised his brows as he looked at his best friend, “Even when we’re greeted with struggles beyond compare?”

“Exactly.”

Sasha chimed in, “Even when sometimes it feels like it’s beyond our ability…”

“We keep on fighting. Right, guys?” Connie threw his smile to the two fellow soldiers whom he had grown to love and care for, more than he had to himself, “Because that’s what matters, right? As long as we put the effort, we give our own meaning to this futile fate of being alive.”

“That’s right.” – “Yes, Connie.”

Connie sighed, this time it was the sound of relief, “I’m grateful.”

“For what?”

“For the two of you. You both are the only family I have left.” There was still a stinging pain in Connie’s words, but he was finally at terms with it. He had made peace with his grief, and it was visible to both Jean and Sasha as they hug the shorter boy closer to even a warmer embrace, and finally, they laughed again.

“Or maybe we can rebuild Ragako after this?” Jean sparked the idea, sending a glimmer of hope into Connie’s eyes, “Find the cure for your mum, and let’s live closely together there. We can be neighbors. You said there’s plenty of boar for Sasha to hunt, right, Connie?”

Sasha squealed in excitement to which Jean responded by a loving pat to his brunette hair, as he spoke again, “And maybe we can go to Sasha’s house for dinner every night since his husband’s a good cook.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Let’s stay alive, guys.”

“The three of us.”

“Yeah.”

“Together?” – “As long as we can.”

And so that night, they laughed and laughed. For once, under the starless skies they became what they had not been able to become: children with child-like wonders. Casting hope for tomorrow, they were there to laugh at the odds and to live their lives so well that Death would tremble to take them.

A/N: Hi guys, I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think! Comments or reblogs are highly appreciated, like so so much.

Out of all angst fics I ever read, my heart hurt the most writing this down. Truly, what an ending for them by Yams.

Credit: The last line was derived from Charles Bukowski’s publication.

[l-egionaire]

She Loves Me Not- Chapter 1-An Owl House Fanfic.

Willow had had just about enough.

When she first realized Amity's obvious crush on Luz it had been somewhat funny. Seeing her serious and studious childhood friend being turned into a red-faced stammering mess by the human girl couldnt help but cause her to snicker. But after nearly three weeks of seeing Amity practically swoon as soon as Luz so much as gazed in her general direction and her friend still being almost painfully oblivious to her affections, Willow decided something needed to change.

She knew that if she just told Luz about Amity's crush, the witch would personally sic her largest abomination on her. So she would have to help Luz figure it out on her own. Which would be difficult as it seemed like Luz was especially dense when it came to Amity's feelings about her.

Case in point, when Amity leapt up from their lunch table with her face the color of blood and Luz's only response was "huh, guess something didn't agree with her." Willow was tempted to bang her head against the table.

Thankfully, she found the perfect moment while the two of them where walking down the hall and Luz had started talking about a new piece of Azura fanfiction she'd read.

"So then Azura pushes Hecate out of the way and takes the blow from the burning heckhound! Horrified by whats happened to her friend, Hecate is filled with rage and power and defeats the monster with one powerful blast of magic!" Luz swept her arm in excitement, just narrowly missing hitting Willows forehead. She chuckled nervously after noticing. "Sorry. Anyway, Hecate runs to Azura's side and cradles her in her arms. Hecate asks "why would you do that?" And Azura says "I couldn't lose you." Oh, it was just so romantic!"

Willow raised a brow at Luz's word choice. "Romantic?"

"Yeah. I mean, the author isn't really a Heczula shipper but the way they interact in the story just gives such a really strong romantic vibe. I tried telling the same thing to Amity but she said she didn't really see it."

Resisiting the urge to smile at the irony, Willow carefully asked. "So, Amity isn't really into romance?"

"Oh no, she's actually a HUGE Heczula fan. In fact she even showed me some really great fan art she'd done. I actually asked her about working together to make our own special Heczula piece. Marry our skills so to speak."

She could just imagine Amity's response to that. Still keeping her expression as neutral as possible, Willow pressed on.

"Speaking of Amity and romance, has she talked to her crush yet?"

Luz frowned. "No. And I don't know why. I mean, I get that she was afraid of being rejected but its Amity. She's smart, talented, cute. No way someone would reject her."

Okay, Luz calling Amity "cute" wasn't a bad sign. "Maybe its because she's already got a relationship with this person. You know, like a friendship shes scared of messing up."

Luz immediately struck a hand out in front of Willow and they both came to a stop. The human girl gasped like a banshee, practically sucking in air.

"Of course! She's developed feelings for a friend and now fears her romantic attraction will end up damaging their friendship if she reveals it! Its such a common romance trope, how could've I have missed that?!" She gave another loud gasp. "Ogmigosh. I know who Amity's crush is!"

Willow couldn't help but smirk. About time.

"Its you Willow! Amity has a crush on you!"

Willows left eye started to twitch and she internally groaned at her friend once again drawing the wrong conclusion.

Mustering up as much effort as possible, she calmly asked. "What makes you think that?"

"Well it all fits. You two were close childhood friends before suddenly being separated. You've started rebuilding your relationship which probably caused her to realize that her feelings for you went beyond friendship and because things only just started getting better between you she's scared of admitting her feelings because she doesn't want to lose you again!" Luz declared, looking extremely pleased with herself.

Okay, that actually made since. "Yeah. But you know Luz...that could also apply to you too."

Luz's pride turned to confusion. "What?"

"Well, you two only recently became friends after not liking each other and she might not want to mess up your friendship since its so new." Willow said slowly, hoping it would finally sink in to her.

Luz stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter.

After a round of giggles, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Thats ridiculous. Amity couldn't have a crush on me!"

At this point Willow couldn't swallow the annoyance when she replied. "And why not?!"

She expected to hear "we're just friends " or "we danced at Grom" as Luz's defense but what she said next completely shocked her.

"Amity would never be interested someone like me."

Both the statement and the paradoxical chuckle Luz gave while saying it zapped away whatever anger Willow had at her obliviousness and replaced it with intense confusion.

"What are you talking about? Why wouldn't Amity be interested in you?"

"Because Amity is, well, Amity and I'm me." The way Luz said it, t as if it should be completely obvious, caused Willow to get a twisted feeling in her stomach. Before she could say anything Luz pressed on.

"I mean, Amity's a skilled witch, Hexsides top student, she's planning on being part of the emperors coven one day! Plus she's rich, popular, she makes great fanart. And me? I'm...barely able to do magic. And I can't even do it the right way like you guys thanks to my stupid human organs. I'm not even a real witch. I mean, if Amity had a crush on me, you really think she'd be afraid of me rejecting her?"

Willow just stared at her in stunned silence. She was waiting for Luz to yell "kidding" or say that this was just a joke and she'd known about Amity's crush the whole time. But the bittersweet smile on Luz's face told her that she was completely serious.

She couldn't believe it. Luz, quite possibly the nicest person she knew, the one who tried to help her with a school project at the risk of being violently dissected, the one who'd managed to get past Amity's walls and become her friend, honestly thought that Amity didn't consider her good enough to have a crush on.

"Luz, I'm sure Amity doesn't think that way." Willow argued. "You two are friends now! You have that book club thing you do together! She doesn't think of you as less than her! In fact, I bet if you asked she'd definitely say she would be interested in you!"

Hopefully that would kill two birds with one stone.

"I can't do that Willow. Like you said, things are good between me and Amity. The last thing I want is to scare her off because she thinks I got feelings for her." Luz looked to the side and muttered. "I don't want to end up losing another friend because I pushed too much."

Her voice was so low Willow almost didn't hear her. She couldn't help but notice her use of word in particular. "Another?"

Luz winced, clearly not having wanted Willow to hear her but seeing the look her friend was giving, she began to explain.

"Back at my human school I would sometimes manage to meet people who had some of the same interests I did, like Azura or Anime. We'd talk about it, meet up, it was almost like we were friends."

Luz sighed

"But eventually, I'd do something. Somthing too weird or too much. Maybe even something that ccidentally ended up getting us in trouble. And then...they didn't want to be friends anymore."

The whole time Luz spoke her voice cracked, and Willow noticed a twinkle in the corner of her eye. The defeated expression on Luz's face seemed almost alien compared to her usual beaming face.

"Luz.....".

Upon seeing the sympathetic look on her friends face, Luz cleared her throat, plastered a smile on her face and tried to unnoticingly wipe the corner of her eye.

"But, anyway, thats my point. Amity and I are at a good place and I don't need to go asking her questions that might make her uncomfortable just to make myself feel better."

Noticing that she hadn't managed to ease her friend, Luz added. "Hey, come on, relax. Its not like I don't think anyone could like me But Amity? Trust me, I think she's be a bit out of my league. Now come on, we should get to class."

"You go ahead. I'll catch up."

As she watched Luz walk away, their entire conversation replayed in her mind. She couldn't believe her friend honestly thought that way about herself. She truly thought she wasn't good enough for Amity to like.

Willow knew one thing, still felt like she had before. She'd had enough. She wasn't going to let Luz keep thinking like that about herself. She was going to do something about it.

And she knew just what that something was.

[secret-engima]

*kicks down door* WHO WANTS TO READ ME RAMBLE/RANT ABOUT THE GRALEA LEVEL IN FFXV AND WHY IT ACTUALLY WAS A GOOD LEVEL AND EVERYONE SHOULD PLAY THE NOCTIS ROUTE AT LEAST ONCE RATHER THAN THE GLADIO ROUTE EVEN THOUGH IT’S TERRIFYING AND FRUSTRATING.

No one?

WELL TOO BAD.

(Unless you haven’t played or watched the game yet and don’t want spoilers in which case TURN AWAY NOW).

...Ahem. *deep breath* Okay so I will forever stand by my opinion that chapter 13 of the game (the one that takes place on the train and then in Gralea) is Good™ and does exactly what it's supposed to in the narrative. That is not to say I don't hate it with a passion and didn't cheer when they added the Gladiolus route for those of us (like me) who didn't want to replay the Noctis route again, but I will stubbornly insist to anyone that wants to listen that the chapter's difficulty and wildly different tone and pacing was THE POINT of the darn thing and deserves some respect for it.

See, the game up to that point is, if not always lighthearted (because it's not), has still been something of an Adventure Story™. Yes there's horrible tragic things like Insomnia falling and Regis dying, but for the most part the gameplay is exploration and cool combat mechanics and the relationship between the four brothers. It's ... happy for a good chunk of it. There's this light at the end of the tunnel, this comfy assurance that there can be a happy ending, that this can all be fixed and tied up in a neat little bow somehow.

Then Altissia happens. Luna dies, Ignis is blinded, and the game puts you on literal rails, forcing you to go hurtling toward A Different Tone. Everyone is stressed, everyone is scared or angry. You’d THINK that this is the lowest point of the story and that surely there’s going to be an emotional reconciliation between Noctis and Gladio and then we’ll get back to exploring and saving the world and all that jazz.

Except we don’t.

The train scene with Ardyn and Shiva happens, and the entire heartbreak with Prompto happens, and that’s when things start to seriously crack. You lose all access to your magic while stuck in this narrow train, then you lose the Regalia, your symbol of freedom, your main way to travel through the game (even when you fast travel, the animation of arrival shows you getting out of the Regalia). You are now trapped in Gralea. In dark, hostile territory with one of your party missing, one of them blind, the other angry at you, and still no magic. Then a few minutes later you are forcibly separated from the rest of your party, the characters you’ve spent all game getting attached to, and leaning on, and laughing with. They are your last anchor points to the brother dynamic that has kept the whole game on a lighter note and now they are GONE. You have none of your weapons or skills, you have no idea where the others are (first time playing the game without spoilers anyway), you have NOTHING. No hope. No backup. No distractions from the fact that, oh yeah, this is a story where the Bad. Guys. Win. Are winning, have won, and all Noctis (all you) can do is take out the Ring that slowly killed Regis, that Luna died for, the thing that represents everything going wrong and all NOCTIS must do to fix it even when he is painfully, woefully unprepared ... and finally put it on. 

Noctis (and by extension you, the player) MUST shoulder the responsibility of being the king of a lost kingdom, of acknowledging that he IS the king, his dad was MURDERED, and Luna was killed for the thing you are now wearing and everything it means. It’s your only option until you eventually find the dead Ravus and take back Regis’s sword toward the middle/end of the level, which you can’t use recklessly because every swing drains your very life-force, forcing the Ring to still be your “best” option in many cases.

Most of that level is spent running, and hiding, and praying that the MT Units on the floor don’t leap up and try to murder you, or that the daemons don’t notice you, or that the teleporting daemon doesn’t find you, or that Ardyn will just SHUT UP because his taunts are really unhelpful right now.

The only hope you have left in this level is to grit your teeth and get through it with the Ring until you can reunite with your brothers and get magic back and go get the Crystal, the mcguffin of this whole game, and put the game back on the normal track of brotherly dynamics and fun quests. Just get to the Crystal, and everything will somehow start going back to normal.

And then that turns out to be a trap too.

Welcome to the final act of a tragedy, and your character is the one living through it. There will be no restoration of the norm until you’ve seen this to its final conclusion. There will be no light save for the one Noctis dies for.

Even when I first played that level (vanilla, not even a day one patch version btw because I was an idiot like that) and hated it because it was terrifying, I never thought it didn't belong in the story like ... quite a few comments I saw on the internet later insisted it didn’t. This is Noctis's story. This is Noctis's tragedy. THIS is the level that strips every last distraction and security blanket and shelter away from him and makes him put on the Ring and thus shoulder everything it represents. There is- terror here, there is trauma, there is GRIEF. This is practically Noctis's headspace without his brothers, because let's not forget that while we the players are having fun fishing and catching frogs for a silly scientist lady, Noctis is a refugee from an empire that MURDERED HIS FATHER and the FATHER OF HIS SHIELD-BROTHER, destroyed his HOME and then, right before Gralea, murdered Luna, the girl who he's known and talked to and confided in via letter for twelve years. This is a world falling into literal darkness (and if the player hadn’t noticed how the daytime cycle in the game kept getting shorter and shorter before this point YOU CERTAINLY NOTICE NOW) and it's up to Noctis- JUST Noctis, ONLY NOCTIS thanks to a Prophecy made long before he was ever born, to somehow Fix It™.

One person. Just one.

And he has to fix ... all of this.

How?

He doesn’t know. During the Gralea level he DOESN’T KNOW. All he (all we) know is that the Crystal is the key, but since the Crystal only answers to Lucis Caelums, that means Noctis is the key, and Noctis (and you the player) is painfully aware of how Not Ready he is.

And the weight of that is enough to render you helpless in the face of it. The fear of that is a maze. The terror of it is a monster following you down the halls that you cannot escape from and cannot kill while it laughs at your misery.

All of that is GRALEA. The capital city of the people who overthrew his home, killed his father, killed his fiancé, and isolated him from the last safety nets he had.

The entirety of chapter 13 isn’t meant to be enjoyed. It’s meant to make you scared. It’s meant to frustrate you and make you feel helpless. It’s meant to make you feel sick when you learn what the daemons and MTs you’ve been killing really are. It’s meant to make you RAGE against Ardyn, and the Empire, and this entire situation because you’re one person and you’re not prepared for this and it’s NOT FAIR and you just want things to go BACK TO THE WAY IT WAS AND ALL OF THIS SUCKS.

Yeah. It does.

And who else do you think feels like that?

Noctis.

Chapter 13 isn’t meant to be fun. It’s meant to make you feel like Noctis does.

And what emotions would you expect from someone who has just lost everything and is expected to fix everything for everyone else, and now has no distractions or shields between him and his grief?

I remember reading an article about “why this chapter failed” and it was basically to the order of “this game is about a fun road trip with your bros and reuniting with your fiancé and chapter 13 breaks away from that too hard” and I respectfully have to disagree.

This story isn’t about a “fun road trip” and it isn’t just about “reuniting with your fiancé”. From the very first cutscene we are told that it’s not in Regis’s desperate (and soon revealed as last) words to his son about setting forth on a journey and not being able to go back. We are told it’s not in the first hour or so when Insomnia burns and Noctis cries and Cor tells us that “in his last moments together he didn’t want to be your king, he wanted to be your father”. How is that a “fun story about a road trip?”. Yes the road trip IS fun for us, and it IS about the brother relationship, but in a large, LARGE part-

Final Fantasy XV is about a young man setting out into the world and facing the hardships of it. It’s about loss. It’s about regrets. It’s about how no matter how much you want them to, some things can never go back to the way they were yet you must keep going anyway. It’s about how the darkness of the world will just keep taking-taking-taking until someone is willing to pay the price to make it stop, and that sometimes a happy ending for the people you love most means giving up your own personal happy ending on their behalf.

Final Fantasy XV never really hid the fact that it was a tragic, bittersweet story.

But it’s in chapter 13 that the story refuses to let you mistake it for anything else any longer.

Could the chapter have been structured a little better so that the gameplay itself wasn’t so frustrating? Probably. I know almost nothing about game design so that’s not really my call. But does the chapter, for all its frustration and anger-inducing inversion of pacing and tone, brutally get the point across?

Maybe it’s just my opinion, but I’d say yes. Yes it does. Because this video game was the one that fully 100% convinced me, in a way that no other video game had before, that the platform could tell heart wrenching stories, could give me characters I would care for, cry over, rage on the behalf of.

And a big part of that clicked for me at the ending, but it likely wouldn’t have if I hadn’t first struggled my way through chapter 13 and all the emotions it causes and represents just like Noctis did.

...

There. I’m done. Thanks for reading my long-suppressed rant on the most hated chapter of FFXV.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hello friend! this is very specific but do you by any chance have any fics where sherlock likes it when someone plays with his hair or that kind of thing? jdjsjjs sorry its such a weird request

Hey Nonny!

AHHHHH okay oddly enough I never anticipated this being something people would want up until recently when I myself wanted more fics, so I don’t have a lot of fics labelled properly for it D: Here’s the best I got for you, so please forgive me; the list will grow as I re-read fics and re-tag them LOL.

I’m also adding fics I’ve tagged on my MFL list too <3

As always, lovelies, add your fics if if has any of the requested stuff, please add it below!!

HAIR PETTING / PLAYING / PULLING

See also:

Hair and Beards

John Has a Beard

Shaving

Tangential by Bitenomnom (NR, 2,047 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock, Fluff and Love, Cuddles, Friendship, Sherlock is a Kept Man, Sherlock Divorces his Work, Nightmares) – In which John stitches up Sherlock's head (but not really), Sherlock comes into John's room at night to take his laptop (but not really), Sherlock is married to his Work (but not really), and John is more than proficient at keeping Sherlock (really, definitely). Part 48 of Mathematical Proof

Untouched by KittieHill (E, 3,239 w., 1 Ch. || Kissing, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, Body Worship, Sherlock’s Scars Mentioned, Masturbation, PWP, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms) – Sherlock leaked a lot. John had never needed lubricant. John loved watching it, had once spent an entire afternoon edging Sherlock so he could watch as the thick precome drip, drip, dripped onto Sherlock's belly.

Love and Hair Dye by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,920 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Body Worship, Self Conscious John, Voyeurism, Idiots in Love, Smutty Smut) – Self conscious John decides to cover the greys on his head, and the colour isn’t what he thought it would be. Now he’s more self-conscious than ever.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Onomatopoeia by aquabelacqua (M, 6,904 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Dirty Talk, Domestics, Word Kink, POV Sherlock, Dry Humping / Sex, Chair Sex, Hair Pulling, Lazy Mornings, Hand Jobs, Friends to Lovers) – Something is the matter with John. Sherlock is determined to figure out what it is. Mark his words.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They've been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

MARKED FOR LATER

Curlock by 88thParallel (G, 1,285 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Sherlock’s Hair, Fluff, Ficlet) – How Sherlock learned to control and appreciate the incredible gift he was born with, and the man who helped him sort it out.

Curls and Frizz by 221b_gone_feels (G, 2,026 w., 2 Ch. || Est. Rel., Sherlock’s Curls, Frizz, Curly Hair Problems, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – When it rains especially hard one day, John sees him in a new light. Or, hairstyle.

Pull by philalethia (E, 6,352 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss/Time, Hair Pulling, Hair Stroking, Kink Exploration, Scalp Massage, Pillow Humping, Demi Sherlock, Past Drug Use) – John pulls Sherlock's hair in a moment of frustration. Sherlock is surprised to find that he enjoys it.

I'll Show You the Difference by Ginger_Cat (E, 19,677 w. || Post-HLV, Infidelity, Hand/Blow Jobs, Hair-Pulling, First Kiss, Caught-In-The-Act, Almost Parentlock, Minor Character Death, Angst, Bittersweet Ending) – John attempts to prove that Sherlock's love for him is platonic. He fails, miserably.

Unwind Series by illwick (E, 697,027+ w. across 33 fics || Light BDSM / Power Dynamics, Dom!John/Sub!Sherlock, Switchlock, Hair-Pulling, Snsory Deprivation, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Handcuffs, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasm, Prostate Milking / Massage, Rough Sex, Biting, Food Sex, Consensual Kink, Sex on Everything, Chair Bondage, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Oral/Anal, Fingering, Sex Toys, Captain John, Establish Relationship, Bratty Sherlock, Greedy Sherlock, Military Kink, Uniform Kink, Gunplay, Roleplay, Shower Sex, Oral Fixation, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Facials, Dog Tags, Edgeplay, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesomes, Homophobia, Size Kink, Past Relationships, Past Drug Use, Double Penetration, Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Panties) –  John and Sherlock unwind after a case.

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 12

serial killer!han jisung au

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 4.5k

warnings: descriptions of violence, foul language, allusions to trauma and mental illness

description: Prosecutor Kim Seungmin faces pressures from his coworkers about the serial killer case. When Jisung wakes up next to you, remorse and doubt sends him back onto the streets, where one wrong decision finally leads to him doing the one thing he had feared above all.

watch the trailer here!

12| point of no return.

“Well, well, well — look what the cat dragged in.”

Kim Seungmin winced at the sound of Prosecutor Kang’s haughty voice as soon as he stepped into the office. The older prosecutor’s words had made all the others look up from their desks, directing several pairs of eyes onto the younger man, who was actively trying his best not to tuck his head down and fold in on himself to avoid their scrutiny. To Seungmin’s dismay, Kang continued speaking.

“If it isn’t our newest prosecutor. How are you holding up, Kim? I heard there have been more attacks — a witness, even. Shameful, really, how they had to call a lockdown just to keep things under control.”

Seungmin swallowed a lump in his throat, forcing his jaw to unclench. “We’ve—been actively gathering evidence.” While it was true — Chan and Woojin had called him to the precinct in the middle of the night to preserve witness statements, and he’d spent the last few days searching through Miroh Heights for clues — the words sounded incredibly lame nonetheless. Sure enough, Kang snorted, and a few other prosecutors shifted uncomfortably. 

“What kind of evidence, Kim? Enlighten me.”

“The suspicion has been placed on Miroh Heights’ students after interviewing the last witness. And we have reason to suspect that the perpetrator is mentally unstable, or at least harbours some sort of...trauma, due to the erratic selection of their victims.” Seungmin cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. He had only repeated what he’d theorised together with Chan and Woojin, after all.

“I’m just finding it strange — embarrassing, really — how it seems like you’re getting everything handed to you, Prosecutor Kim, and yet you’re still taking this long to reach a verdict.” Kang raised an eyebrow. “Seems to me you're hesitant? Indecisive, or uncertain?”

“Beginner’s nerves, perhaps?” One woman piped up, and a few workers around her stifled their chuckles.

Seungmin clenched his fists, hoping the others couldn’t see. “Dealing with a mentally unstable serial killer calls for a different approach, Kang. We have to keep into consideration how accountable they are to be held for their actions, and—”

“There is no room for a wavering heart in prosecution,” Kang interrupted coldly, his eyes two black daggers. “What you think is being kind or empathetic is a weakness, kid. Focus on the incriminating evidence, not the humanity in the perpetrator — after all,” he gave a leer, “anyone who murders humans is a monster — and monsters deserve to be punished, don’t you think?”

There were a few murmurs of agreement, and Seungmin ripped his gaze from Prosecutor Kang’s expectant face. 

“I assure you, that is what I intend to do.” With that, Seungmin brushed past Prosecutor Kang, suddenly grateful that his office was further down the hallway. The woman who had tried speaking up for him on his first day flashed him a sympathetic look as he passed, but it only made him feel worse. Was he really that...weak? Incompetent?

If catching this killer and condemning them was what it took to get Prosecutor Kang off his back, then that was exactly what Seungmin would do. He shut the door to his office, a bit harder than he meant to, and opened his briefcase on his desk, organizing his notes. 

It was time to hunt a killer.

━━━━━━━━

All was quiet when Jisung awoke, eyes blinking as they opened and adjusted to the hazy morning light. He was in a room with off-white ceilings and walls, and the dusty blue curtains were open, fluttering lightly from a soft breeze. His even breathing filled the air — for the first time in what seemed like forever, he hadn’t had nightmares. His eyes wandered to the windows, wincing slightly — it was a cloudy day, the kind where looking at the grey sky stung his eyes. Aside from the light wind, the room was absolutely still. Almost as if it was holding its breath. 

Jisung turned to the side, freezing when he saw your sleeping face next to him. You were sleeping with no pillow, and Jisung realised with a sharp pang of guilt that you had placed the only one on the bed under his head instead. He slowly slid his palm beneath your cheek, lifting your head as gently as he could before pushing the pillow between you and the mattress instead. You immediately buried your face into the softer fabric, still fully asleep, and Jisung chuckled. For a long moment, he gazed down at your sleeping figure, a bittersweet warmth spreading in his chest. Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead, eyes momentarily closing. 

Jisung felt your hand reach up for him and he pulled away slightly, worried that he’d woken you. When he saw that your eyes were still shut, chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm, he let out a breath of relief. Your fingers grazed his shoulder and there was a slight furrow beginning to form in your brow, and suddenly he was reminded of the previous night — when you had looked at him with the same confused, horrified expression; when you had instinctively pushed him away, looking ready to run.

He looked down at you now, gut twisting as he frowned — were you having nightmares? Were they—were they about him? Memories flooded his mind from last night: him running back to your apartment; your face, twisted with disbelief and horror; all the things he had ended up telling you. Each memory sent a wave of panic through him, a cold sweat beginning to form at the back of his neck. Jisung pulled away, sitting up and burying his head in his hands. 

What had he done?

All he could think about was the way you had looked at him when you had first found out — the betrayal, fear, raw pain scrawled across your features. That was what you thought of the real him — wasn’t it? Your shaking hands, wavering pupils, the tears brimming in your eyes — the images kept flashing in his mind, patching themselves over the memories of your laugh, the way your entire face would light up, your reddened cheeks and ears when you got embarrassed. 

They were all as good as lost once he’d told you the truth.

Even though you had let him sit down, let him stay — he swore he caught the way you stiffened slightly beneath his touch, the way you had begun avoiding his gaze. And when you did look at him — it was like he was a ticking time bomb.

Jisung slid off the bed onto his feet. Instinctively, he began pacing, his heart pounding louder and louder with every step. His chest was closing up again, the floor was beginning to spin, the thoughts were all too, too much. With one hand still clasped around his head, he bolted out of the bedroom and down the hall, coming to an unsteady halt when he reached the living room. Jisung’s vision spun, a wave of nausea inching up his throat as his gaze landed on the vase of peach coloured roses sitting on the coffee table. 

He seized the vase and brought the flowers closer to his face. They were the ones he had bought on your first date. A short laugh pushed through his lips, and even the subtle twitch of a tentative smile tugging at his cheeks felt painful. 

“First date, kid?” The florist had a lopsided grin on her face, already reaching for the shelves of rose bouquets behind her.

“Um, yeah. I—I don’t want...red roses, though. Do you have, um, anything else?” Jisung watched the florist’s brow furrow at his words.

“Hm. Roses are a classic go-to, kid, but...ah!” Her face lit up, snapping her fingers as she reached for a different bouquet. “These are much prettier, in my opinion. Peach roses!”

Jisung took the bouquet from her curiously as she continued, “Red might come off a little strong ‘n cliche, yeah? So the peach hue makes ‘em look softer. The colour symbolises strength and resilience, so here’s to wishing you and your lucky girl a love that stands the tests of time, hm?” 

They were nearly all wilted now, the edges shrivelled and the leaves drooping. But the scent dripping from the petals was heavy, so thick it seemed to make his legs buckle from dizziness. Jisung set the vase back down too hard and it struck the corner of the coffee table, wobbling precariously, and before Jisung could reach out to catch it the vase toppled over the edge and shattered against the floor. 

The crash that rang through your silent apartment sounded deafening, and Jisung whipped his gaze towards the bedroom where you were sleeping. Dried petals and glass were splayed across his feet as he stumbled back, his heel snagging painfully on a thorn. His blood was roaring in his ears as he held his breath, expecting you to wake up at any second. But a minute passed, then another, and Jisung finally tore his gaze away, fists unclenching slightly.

You don’t belong here.

The words rang in his head, an incessant throb that grew stronger with every heartbeat. Every part of him was screaming at Jisung to run — to leave behind the mess he had already made before it was too late; before the police found him with you, before he could hurt you any more than he already had—and  with that last fear pounding through his skull, Jisung slipped on his shoes, threw open the front door, and broke into a run. 

You don’t belong here. Get out. Get out. GET. OUT.

The clouds were stitching themselves together over the hazy sun when he sprinted outside, casting a dark grey shadow over the entire city. Jisung’s mind was racing as he ducked into the first alleyway he saw, narrowly missing a police cruiser that had turned around the corner onto your street. Where could he go? The dorms? Another cafe? He risked another glance out onto the main street, heart sinking at the sheer amount of officers patrolling the road. He shook his head. He had to get away — where, exactly, he wasn’t sure — but he needed to get out of Miroh Heights.

Jisung darted down backstreets and alleyways, growing increasingly aware of the rumbling of thunder overhead and the light droplets of rain beginning to splatter onto his skin. When he reached a narrow strip between two brick buildings, a strange feeling of deja vu sent a chill trickling down his spine. Shaking the feeling off, Jisung pushed through the path, eyes fixed on the wavering sliver of gray light at its end—until the alleyway opened up into the familiar back parking lot of a diner.

Mia’s Diner.

The toe of Jisung’s shoe caught on the uneven gravel and he stopped running, chest heaving. Of all the shortcuts he could have chosen, this one had lead him all the way back here. To his relief, he noticed the lot was relatively secluded—the back of the diner and a tall stack of Dumpsters hid him from the main street, while a thicket of trees and the two buildings that had formed the alleyway closed up the space behind him. Even in the growing fog, he could spot the diner’s bright neon sign on the roof.

His gaze wandered towards the diner’s windows, which were glowing like a row of dim eyes. The tables were empty, a bored waitress sipping a milkshake by the counter with her back turned. His eyes landed on the window side booth from your first date. Your first date, what felt like an eternity ago.

“O-oh, hi! You’re…”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.”

It had been raining that day, too, hadn’t it? Sheets of water that had swept the streets, soaked his shoes, and nearly torn the heads off the roses he’d bought on the way. And when the storm had cleared in the evening, the way the sunset had bathed the city in gold. A small smile tugged at his lips, vision fogging over at the memory. Your warm touch on his cheek. Your tentative fingers in his hair. 

The warmth turned ice cold as soon as he spotted a familiar alley in the corner of his eye, and like a stormcloud splitting wide open, all the uglier memories began spilling out instead. The brick walls that felt like they were closing in on him, the prostitute’s catlike eyes, the choking darkness of an unkept, one-bedroom bungalow, fresh, hot blood spilling onto his hands and vodka flames licking at his feet—

“Han Jisung!”

The unfamiliar voice pulled Jisung out of his thoughts. A group of male students had come around the diner, a stocky boy with a buzzcut at their head. Jisung narrowed his eyes, clenching his fists involuntarily. He had seen them before, somewhere — a club, perhaps, or a late-night party…

“That’s cold, man — aren’t you gonna greet your old friends?” The boy with the buzzcut stopped just short of a metre from Jisung — too close for his liking — and spat on Jisung’s shoes.

“Kid’s been off in the head since the orphanage,” a taller boy with dirty blond hair that fell to his chin grinned. “Isn’t that so?”

Something in the back of Jisung’s mind clicked and he squinted in the growing darkness, eyes focusing on their faces. The orphanage. The other boys he and Minho had grown up with. After they’d all been released from the children’s home, Jisung had seen a few of them in passing — some had barely managed to get into college, while most of the others had dropped altogether and lingered around the town like parasites. 

Jisung lifted his gaze back to the stocky boy’s face, a humourless chuckle escaping his lips. His former classmates shifted nervously. 

“Fucking psycho,” someone behind the boy muttered.

“Well, that’s what he is, isn’t he?” The blond boy continued, a sneer growing on his crusted lips. He had a hand shoved into his pockets, and Jisung heard the sound of something metal clinking—a lighter? “Remember what they say brought him to the orphanage?” He took a step closer to Jisung, lowering his voice. “Arson. Patricide.”

“Get away from me,” Jisung breathed, his throat dry. The ringing in his ears was growing more and more high pitched with every second, and his limbs felt stiff — as if he could will himself to stay still, to stay in control.

“Is it true, then? You killed your old man and set his corpse on fire? Is that your dirty little secret?” The boy with the buzzcut jerked his head towards the distant screeching sirens on the main street. “Are those because of you, too?”

Dead silence fell between them, the gang’s mocking smiles boring into him. The boy with the buzzcut tilted his head, snorting when Jisung only stared back at him. 

“Forget it. There’s no way he’s the serial killer.” A third boy behind them spoke, his eyes raking Jisung up and down in a leer. “Looks like he’s about to piss his pants — probably can’t throw a punch to save his life. He’s a runner, that’s what he is.”

The blond boy laughed, fingers jabbing at Jisung’s shoulder and pushing him back. “You’re right about that one. Han Jisung, always running away. Just like your momma, yeah? Momma’s boy.” At that, Jisung’s gaze flickered up to meet the blond boy’s, eyes narrowing in wary confusion.

“What? Your momma always ran from your old man, didn’t she? Didn’t how how to do anything else. And every time your old man beat her bloody...” the boy with the buzzcut reached for Jisung’s lowered head, ruffling his hair and snickering when Jisung flinched away. “You ran away from her, too, yeah?”

Jisung froze, his fingers numb. He had been clenching his fists so tightly the blood circulation was cut off, his hands beginning to tremble as a horribly familiar ache pulsed in his temples. But before he could bring himself to move, the boy with the buzzcut suddenly tightened his grip on Jisung’s hair, yanking his head back hard.

“Fuckin’ mute bastard’s pissing me off. Try running now, Han.”

A fist came out of nowhere and smashed into the side Jisung’s jaw. He flew backwards, the back of his head slamming into hard gravel. For a moment, his vision went black, before coming back in fuzzy, burning flashes. His eyes had already been watering — both from his headache and the boy’s harsh grip on his hair — and just as Jisung was blinking the sand from his eyes he felt a foot crash into his ribs and knock the air straight out of his lungs.

Jisung could barely hear their taunts over his own choked coughing, his fingers scrabbling through the dusty ground as he tried to pull himself up. Pain coursed through his bones like liquid fire, sending waves of nausea shooting up his gut and black spots dancing across his vision. 

“Shit, it’s like hitting a little girl,” the boy with the buzzcut muttered. “C’mon, Han, put some fight into it, will ya?” He dropped down into a squat until they were nearly face to face, his squinty eyes twisted into a permanent sneer. “Pretend I’m your old man or someth—”

Jisung’s hand shot out, seizing the front of the boy’s shirt. He saw the sneer freeze on the boy’s face for a split second before Jisung drove his fist into the boy’s nose.

“Fffuckin’ hell!” The boy toppled back screaming, blood beginning to spurt from his face as he scrambled away frantically. One boy wearing a letterman jacket immediately moved to push Jisung back down. Hooking a foot around the boy’s legs, Jisung kicked hard and brought the boy crashing down to the ground. He pulled himself back to his feet shakily, reddening vision scanning the remaining boys that were closing in on him.

“Now you’re asking for it, kid,” the blond boy growled, grabbing Jisung’s collar. Before he could register the blond boy’s fingers curling into a fist, a hot flash of pain flared across Jisung’s cheekbone and his head snapped to the side. When Jisung turned his head back, locks of his own hair fell into his eyes, beads of sweat beginning to make them stick to his brow.

Another punch, then another, then another. Jisung could feel cuts splitting open on his cheeks and lips, as if his blood was demanding to be let out. A smile began stretching across his bruised lips, growing wider and wider with every blow. Jisung had lost count by the time the blond boy stopped momentarily, breathing hard, beady blue eyes searching Jisung’s face. 

“The fuck?” His chest was heaving as he shook Jisung like a ragdoll. The younger boy was beginning to laugh — his hair obscured most of his face, revealing only bloodstained teeth. “Are you—you a fuckin’ psycho or somethin’?”

The laughter ripping from his vocal chords felt more like sobs; as soon as the first one rolled off his tongue Jisung couldn’t stop the rest from bubbling up his throat. The blond knocked his head to the side again before jamming his fingers into Jisung’s forehead. “Hey, freak. I asked you a question.”

Jisung’s eyes were hazy, his face throbbed, the boy’s finger felt like a knifepoint in his skin. 

“If you ever speak a word of this to your mother, boy, I’ll ram that camera right into your skull.”

This felt familiar.

He shook his hair out of his face and stared straight into the blond’s eyes. “You want me to pretend you’re my father?”

For a moment the blond boy’s grin faltered, a flash of fear skipping across his pupils, but Jisung barely noticed. His hands shot out, seizing the blond by the throat in a horribly familiar chokehold. The boy cried out in silent surprise, losing his balance, and Jisung took the chance to force him all the way backwards into the diner’s brick wall. The sickening crack when the boy’s skull hit the bricks seemed to send a shudder into Jisung’s hands and body, and the high pitched ringing in his ears finally snapped.

Pure red poured into his vision as he threw punch after punch, pinning the taller boy to the wall. Jisung couldn’t tell if the screaming was the boy’s, or his, or both — or if there was any screaming at all; all he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat. Somewhere, in the back of his head, a small voice was begging for him to stop, but it grew weaker and weaker with every blow.

FATHER. FATHER. FATHER.

He felt hands grabbing at his shoulders as one boy tried to pull him back and Jisung whirled back momentarily, kicking him in the chest. The blond was beginning to grow limp, each hit feeling more and more like Jisung was punching a bag of wet rocks. Jisung felt a distant, stinging pain in his abdomen as he finally let the boy slide to the ground in a broken heap, and vaguely registered a spot of dark blood spreading across his own shirt. His shaky pupils fell on the unconscious boy’s hands, which were clutching a metal switchblade, its tip smeared with blood — Jisung’s blood.

So that had been the metallic sound from earlier. At some point—Jisung couldn’t recall when—the boy must have tried to stab him before he finally fell unconscious.

There were three of them left — four, if you counted the boy with buzzcut hair, bleeding out on the ground from his broken nose. Head buzzing, Jisung leaned down to scoop the blade from the boy’s limp hands as the rest of them closed in.

Jisung could barely see what he was doing; it had begun to rain, clouds casting inky darkness around them despite it being noon. The rain tasted sour as it mixed with foreign blood, the flash of the knife the only light visible. He could no longer hear the words that they were screaming as he buried the blade into every surface that came near him; all he could see were scenes from that day. It was like he had been swallowed back into the nightmare, his gut twisting like he had been thrown over the edge of a cliff and was hurtling towards the ground. His mother’s blood pooling over slivers of splintered wood, her pleading eyes, the water boiling over in the kitchen, the glass shards carving the hellish memories into the soles of his bare feet. It was his father — his father again, trying to kill them, trying to kill them all, and Jisung was fighting back. His father’s red face — or was it the boys’ terrified faces? The glint of his father’s lighter, or the shining tears of pain from the boy whose bones he was breaking? It was horrible — or was it was exhilarating?—and everything Jisung could see was red, red, endless red. 

He didn’t know when they had all ended up on the ground, the last conscious boy trembling feebly beneath him. The tiniest voice echoed in his ears as he brought the knife down again and again in terrible arcs, the warm spurts of blood onto his face feeling like a demon’s caress.

So this is what it feels like to be a monster.

Jisung was shuddering, fingers slippery with blood and rain. His ears felt as though they were underwater, a muffled voice beginning to echo through the haze.

“Ji...Ji…”

He shook his head wildly, eyes cloudy with water, but the voice persisted. It was getting louder now, growing clearer and clearer, as if it was dragging him back up from the darkness.

“Ji...sung. Jisung?”

Was the voice calling for him? The ground felt shaky beneath Jisung’s knees. He had lost his grip on the knife, his tremulous fingers tightening around the sharp blade and sending dull pain searing through his skin. He was going too far — it was too much, it was all too much — he needed to calm down, he needed an anchor to reality, he needed to be back in control before it was too late — 

“...sungie? J-Jisung?”

Feeling like his hand wasn’t his own, Jisung whirled around, switchblade swinging across his blurred vision in a terrible arc, and plunged the knife into a mass of darkness.

The moment he made impact, the cloudiness in his head began to clear away, the numbness leaving his body like venom had been sucked clean from his veins. Jisung let out a shuddering breath. He had done it, it was over, something — or someone had pulled him out of the nightmare. The rain was falling harder now, a crack of lightning flashing over the puddles around him, but all was quiet as his eyes focused in the hazy darkness. 

Eerily quiet, save for a muffled, shaky gasp of pain that made Jisung lift his gaze from the bloodstained gravel up to — 

You.

“Y-Y/N?” His own voice sounded raw, as if he’d been screaming for hours. “What are...w-why are you...here?” You were staring back at him with impossibly wide eyes, and he realised one of your hands had been clutching his arm. It was already beginning to shake as you pulled it back towards your chest, and you looked down. Time seemed to stop as Jisung’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he slowly followed the line of your gaze.

All the way to the switchblade buried deep in your chest.

“H-how did that—w-what happ—” Jisung looked down, breaking off when he saw the pools of blood welling in his palms and soaking the front of his shirt. “N-no. I—Did I—”

The sight of your face left him speechless, another flash of lightning reflecting off the stunned tears that were falling from your eyes. Your expression mirrored his own — frozen in equal parts surprise and agony — but what wrenched Jisung’s heart was the complete absence of anger on your face. 

Mouth slightly parted, you slowly shook your head, and Jisung felt a sudden, sharp pain twist his chest as if he’d been the one stabbed in the heart. Thunder rumbled above and as he opened his mouth to call your name, just as your eyes rolled back and you fell with a dull thud onto the soaked pavement.

“N-no. Don’t do this, not again, I c-can’t—”

The wind was howling in Jisung’s ears. He was screaming your name like it was the only thing he had ever learned but his head was pounding again, and it was like he had been thrust back underwater again, unable to hear his own voice. The rain was plummeting in torrents, as if the sky had been split wide open with an axe, the fat drops cutting at his bruised cheeks like shards of broken glass. The wail of police sirens was growing closer and closer, and suddenly,Jisung was ten years old again — cradling the last thing he had loved in a growing pool of blood, sobs racking through his body like gunshots.

Crimson was blooming rapidly through the front of your shirt. The neon lights of the diner burned at the corner of his eye, and a faint, warm memory echoed in the back of his mind.

“Least favourite colour?”

“Red.”

“W-well, it’s a good thing I’m not wearing red, then, huh?”

“No. No, I’m sure you would still look pretty in red.”

Red. It was everywhere; his shaking pupils took in the blood soaking your clothes, staining your skin, running from his fingers into your hair. 

No, he decided in that moment; you looked absolutely, horrifically, bad in red.

━━━━━━━━

Maybe it was the sirens wailing all throughout Miroh Heights, painting the streets in blurs of blue and red. Or maybe it was the thunderstorm pounding on the windows of the hospital all day, as if it was crying out for a lost love. Nobody could say why, exactly, for certain.

But that night, somewhere in the heart of the city, Yang Jeongin opened his eyes for the first time in three months.

[feral0fae]

Thought You Were Gone

ship: slight Honeypos (Honeydew/Xephos)

..

.....

Cold blue eyes scanned the open field of flowers, nothing had changed from the last time Xephos had been there. It had been many moons, nearly a year since his friend… vanished. The cause was due to a charged creeper blast. Even though to this day he couldn’t bring himself to refer to Honeydew as deceased. Logically he knew that had to be the case, although there was no sign of him or his items anywhere. That alone didn’t mean much, but it gave him hope. It allowed him to pretend that everything was alright. Although it was obvious that he wasn’t if one looked close enough. 

His second to last memory with his friend was making flower crowns, something he found himself doing without thinking all too much about it. The action was comforting, repetitive even.  While his hands worked on making two sets of bracelets of orange and blue flowers he let his mind wander. Xephos let himself remember many things, many of the happier times. Nonetheless, a few sadder ones made their way to the forefront of his attention. Although he didn’t outwardly notice he was beginning to cry. A couple of stray blue tears began to slide down his cheeks. Leaving a soft glowing residue behind as they escaped. 

Xephos found himself regretting some actions, especially the actions directly tied to fighting with Honeydew. One of the biggest that came to mind was a screaming match over collecting oil, it was bittersweet looking back on it. He still felt absolutely horrible that he blew up like that though. A frown formed on his face as he screwed his eyes shut. Trying in vain to stop thinking about the past. It wasn't successful in the slightest. 

Across the horizon a storm was brewing, large dark clouds quickly bled across the once azure sky. A few of the oak trees around him creaked and shuddered from the sheer force of the wind tearing through them. The worsening weather brought him back to the present in a jarring fashion. His eyes snapped open before widening in concern he knew that he couldn't make it back to the base before the rumbling atmosphere would finally break into torrents of rain.

As he got himself out of the sprawled posture he was in, a thunderous crack broke through the field. And he tensed, grasping onto the bracelets he made with an alarming noise coming from him. He loathed thunderstorms as they had always scared him. However, it was only made worse with the disappearance of Honeydew. Rainfall lashed against the landscape promptly soaking him to the bone.

Still not fully aware of the state around him, he didn't notice that monsters had made their way over. A rough gargling noise broke him out of it though. Prompting him to react and fast. Xephos jumped backwards away from the zombie, calculating what he would need to do. Quickly his enchanted sword made its way into his hands. An intense grunt escaped him as he threw all that he could into the stab he aimed for the creature, it was enough to stop the zombie from coming any closer, thankfully. Within the second where he had stabbed the rotten flesh burst into flames making quick work of the undead. Killing the zombie he retrieved his blade from the burnt body. 

Xephos scanned the area around him on high alert. Knowing from experience that his bioluminescence made him a beacon to anything intending to harm him. He had nearly missed the nearly silent hissing noise coming toward him. A terrified yelp sprang from him as spun around. Watching the charged creeper scuttling towards him. Tensing up, Xephos held his blade in front of him. Noticing that it faster than any creeper should be. 

Before he could either attack or run an arrow whizzed past; Landing a direct hit onto the exploding hell-beast. It too burst into flames, yet he wasted no time high tailing it away from the thrice-damned would-be demon. Just in time too, he noted mentally, for the creature exploded. The shockwave was enough to send his lanky frame crashing into the ground, ears ringing.

When he came too he noticed many things that didn't add up. For one, he was in a warm dry place. For two wherever he was it was cushioned and soft. And for three he could hear painfully familiar humming near him. Thinking it was all just a horrible nightmare he opened his eyes, not expecting to be met with the eyes of one very annoyed pig. He cried out a curse word before jolting himself upwards. Only to regret it moments later as nausea washed over him, with a soft groan he shut his eyes tightly. Trying to stop feeling like the room around him was spinning. 

The soft sounds of footsteps padding over to him mixed with the sounds of wood creaking made him crack open an eye. The concerned face that met him made him do a triple take. 

Although his throat was scratchy he still murmured a broken sounding, “Honeydew…?” Xephos couldn't believe his eyes. But the nod and soft laugh that met him made it easier. “Xephos,” Honeydew greeted his old friend, sitting on the side of the bed the other was resting on.

Chuckling he continued breaking the silence with “You know. we have to stop meeting like this!” Xephos merely blinked in return cocking his head to the side much like a confused puppy. Yet before he could speak, Honeydew continued. “This is the second time I’ve patched you up from an explosion, unlike last time though…” he trailed off with a sigh, placing his work-worn hands on top of his friend's own hands. “I’m so thankful that you're in a way better shape,” he hesitated, “I’ve missed you, Xeph” was all that he said before falling silent. 

Studying the expression of the spaceman before him. Xephos’ ears were drooped down, his eyebags were more pronounced and the tears that were being shed did nothing to alleviate the downtrodden look he bore.

Xephos opened his mouth to speak but found that nothing could come out. So he closed his mouth, electing to gaze at the person in front of him. Eventually managing to utter “I thought you were dead, Honeydew…” the pained look that met him mirrored his own. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Xephos hissed out, anguish tainting his words as he dragged his friend over into a crushing hug. One that was returned without a second thought. 

Both of them spent the night catching up on lost time. Although Xephos was still injured that didn't stop him from merrily laughing with his best friend. Deep down Xephos knew he was right to not consider them dead, he was thankful that his hope wasn't for naught. And with that he was finally able to have a true smile.

[strawberrynamjoon]

our last summer

– pairing: taehyung & reader 

– warnings: a bittersweet mixture of fluff and angst, taehyung being a cheesy romantic in love and a sweet shower scene!!

– summary: in order to rescue your failing relationship, taehyung tries to fight for you one last time and flies to paris with you to relive some of your favorite memories – desperately hoping that the city of love will remind you of how much you love him again.

– word count: 7k

– note: this is based on “our last summer” by abba aka the best song in the universe <3 like always, this is not proofread yet, i promise i’ll do it someday.

You weren’t sure if you felt like crying or like smashing plates but by now, just looking at Taehyung was enough to make you feel upset. It was heartbreaking to see how the two of you drifted away, especially when you always were so sure that it could happen to anyone but never to you. At least that’s what you thought for the longest time.

A constant battle was going on inside of you, a turmoil, completely overwhelmed trying to decide between staying for the old times' sake or leaving and trying to move on. Neither of these choices was the right one in your mind but in the end, you still had to make one.

Maybe, your relationship with Taehyung was teaching you that sometimes in life you have to make a decision between two options that both are awful.

As he heard the sigh that escaped your lips, your boyfriend of five years glanced up from the book he was reading on the couch in the living room only a few meters away. The expression in his eyes gave him away easily – he knew exactly what was occupying your mind.

The book was thrown to the side, Taehyung couldn’t care less about which page he was on when he was currently watching his relationship crumble right in front of him, and his tall and broad figure made its way up from the couch over to the dining table you were desperately trying to work on your laptop to get your mind off your real problems.

He sat down opposite from you, closing your laptop so you would concentrate on him.

Studying his face, you still saw the same handsome man he was when you first fell in love with him. Actually, he might even be more handsome now than he was before, his boyish features grew into more manly ones over time. It was still painfully obvious that Kim Taehyung was an attractive man, no question – but the spark was missing.

“What’s on your mind, buttercup?” he asked carefully, lowering his head a bit so your eyes were forced to meet his.

Not even the loving pet name he gave you in the early stage of your relationship made you feel anything anymore. Well, nothing but frustration. Frustration because after all these years you spent together it didn’t seem fair to you that suddenly it didn’t fit anymore.

Thinking back to the start you were so sure that no one would ever be a better match for you than him. The way his hand fitted in yours, the way his body seemed to melt into yours at night as if you were two puzzle pieces, belonging together. Your beginning was such a happy one.

But that was the harsh reality about relationships, the bitter aftertaste. The endings are never happy.

Shrugging, you ran your hands through your hair, trying hard to sound as unbothered as possible, “Just the usual.”

It was hard to say who was in the worse position: You, the one who is falling out of love and sooner or later has to break the other person’s heart or Taehyung, the one who still loves so much and will get their heart broken.

Well, thinking about it for a second both of you didn’t seem to be in the ideal position. It didn’t matter who had it worse, both of you hated the current situation, feeling helpless and vulnerable constantly.

Taehyung was almost reaching out for your hand that was laying flat on the table for a second but stopped himself before he actually touched you. By now he knew that even his touch alone was making you feel burdened.

Now he was the one to let out a sigh. Sighs seemed to be your most common method of communication over the last few months, “I’m trying my best to be the best boyfriend I can. Please, if there’s anything I can do to save this, just let me know.”

It hurt how hard he was trying because you knew he was indeed doing everything that was possible to make you happy again. But the more he tried, the more you distanced yourself. May it be a defense mechanism or just you feeling guilty, it was the sad truth, inevitable.

Both of you were hurting and both of you knew where all of this was going – in the end, you would break up.

Despite the younger versions of yourselves swearing that you would never ever lose feelings for each other, the current you knew better. It was just a matter of time until you would part ways.

Pressing your lips into a hard line, you nodded. You couldn’t count the number of times you sat down like this in the evening to talk about your failing relationship on one hand anymore.

“What if those feelings will never come back, Tae?” you asked him carefully what was burning inside your mind for the whole day. Every time you looked at him you longed for just a hint of the feelings you used to feel – but no matter how much you wanted to, you felt nothing.

On the more positive side, Taehyung has always been your friend. No matter what kind of situation, you never had to choose your words carefully or be afraid of him judging you. If there was something on your mind, Taehyung would be there to listen and talk you through it, regarding your relationship or not.

His gulp, followed by him pressing his eyes together was giving away how much it affected him. You saw him crying one too many times to not know that he was trying hard not to let those tears roll down his cheeks at that moment.

“Don’t give up on us just yet,” his pained request was nothing more than a whisper and you could feel your heart physically cracking a bit, “Let me try one more time to convince you that the feelings are still hidden somewhere inside of you.”

You reached out for Taehyung's hand, squeezing it lightly. The unexpected touch made him look at you again, eyes longing.

"Sure," a weak smile was all you could offer him, "I don’t want this to be over neither. I really want this to work out again as much as you, believe me."

Nodding, his lips carefully pressed a kiss against your hand that was still holding his, "I have something in mind, it just needs a bit of planning."

The curiosity inside of you rose in an instant, Taehyung knew just how nosy you were and his favorite thing since forever was to tease something and then not tell you what it was.

"You're mean," you let out a weak laugh, "But I'll wait. I know you won't tell me anyway."

“Just don’t make any plans for next weekend.”

You startled out of your sleep in shock when you heard the loud alarm clock. After all these years, you never got used to just how loud Taehyung needs to have his alarm sound in order to actually hear it.

But instead of being greeted with a sleepy Taehyung next to you in bed you instead found him standing in front of the bed, dressed in his most fashionable clothes, two luggage bags in his hand.

For a second, just the smallest second, your heart sank, the luggage making you think that he decided that he finally had enough of your constant mood swings and was about to leave you. Even though you played with the thought of breaking up so often, you never felt more vulnerable than in that second.

As soon as you saw him laugh at you though, you realized that he was not leaving you for good.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked grumpy, stretching while sitting up, “Why do you have your stuff packed?”

“Actually, that’s not my stuff, it’s our stuff,” the proud grin never left his lips, “I have to go and get something quickly before we leave. You have thirty minutes, better hurry up.”

Now you were wide awake, wondering what Taehyung was going on about on this Friday morning.

“What do you mean, before we leave?” you yelled after him but you could only see his back as he was shrugging and telling you that it’s a surprise – certainly the thing he teased a few days ago back in the kitchen.

A part of you was afraid – you knew that he was just trying his best to make you stay with him, whatever the surprise would be, but you didn’t want him to be disappointed in case it wouldn’t work out. It would break his heart if he put the effort into something cute for you and it still didn't work out.

The other and luckily bigger part of you was excited. It has been too long since you felt this excited about anything – real excitement, not the one you feel when a new season of your favorite show gets announced but the one that grows deep in your stomach, almost thrilling.

Knowing Taehyung, his surprises always were a hit, and even though things are rough between you, it was definitely worth a shot. You trusted him enough to know that wherever he was taking you would not be a disappointment.

But before you could give in completely to looking forward to it you felt stress rushing over you, having to get ready within thirty minutes without even knowing where your adventure would lead.

Rushing to the bathroom you were surprised with a letter attached to the mirror with adhesive tape. It had your name written on it, a few red hearts doodled around it.

Sitting down on the edge of your bathtub you opened the letter,  wondering what your boyfriend thought off for this weekend.

A small smile crept onto your lips as you read the letter. Taehyung surely knew how to be romantic, even after so many years.

But you had no time to gush about it, time was running and you had to at least look like a human before you were leaving.

Taking a quick shower and putting on concealer and some mascara in a rush was all you managed before Taehyung stood in the doorframe of your bathroom though, ready for the two of you to begin your adventure.

Turning around, you chuckled as you saw the croissants and strawberries he was holding up in the air, "Got us something for the flight."

"You're insane, Kim Taehyung. Taking me to Paris spontaneously like it isn't a big thing?"

"Anything for you," he shrugged slightly embarrassed and you could swear there was a blush creeping onto his face, "Are you ready?"

Nodding, you walked out of the bathroom with a smile on your face, "I'm always ready to go to Paris with you."

It has been some time since you thought about that trip to Paris many years ago but ever since you stepped into the airplane nothing else was on your mind.

The whole way from the apartment to the hotel so many memories of your first trip as a couple came back to your mind, each one of them making you miss how close you used to be.

Back then there was nothing more important than Taehyung’s and your relationship – you still remember how your heart skipped a beat seeing him fit in with the surroundings, not sure if he or Paris was prettier. 

You couldn’t help but giggle like an idiot when Taehyung insisted to carry you through the door of your hotel room in bridal style just like he did the last time. 

It was beyond you that he somehow managed to get the exact same room you were staying in back then – honestly, alone the fact that he still knew which one it was was impressive enough. It was typical for him to pay attention to the small details, one of the things you always adored about him.

In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but still doubt the intentions of this trip a little bit, fearing that not only it could become awkward but also that your precious memories of your favorite vacation with Taehyung could be replaced with worse ones after that.

But as soon as he insisted to carry you through the door bridal style you couldn’t help but giggle and promise yourself to push away all those negative feelings for at least this weekend.

After all, even if the love might be gone, Taehyung was still one of your closest friends.

“You know I could walk in myself, right?” you asked amused, your grin making Taehyung smile in an instant. It has been some time since he was the reason for your smile – your real smile, one that actually reached your eyes.

He shook his head while scrunching up his nose in the cutest way. Once again, you were blown away by how handsome he actually was. His tan skin, his wide chin and your favorite feature on him, his one double and one mono eyelid. All the things you were able to appreciate for hours back then.

All those pretty traits of him used to make you weak in the knees and you suddenly missed those feelings. Even though you weren’t feeling them right now, at least you started to miss them again. That was a good start, wasn’t it?

“You technically could but that would be pretty boring,” he laughed, kicking the door behind him so it would close while his hands were busy holding you. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and you wondered when you last were this close to him.

Walking to the bed, he gently let you down on top of it. The room didn’t change one bit, it was almost as if the time stood still since you last were here.

Taehyung raised his eyebrow at you, his eyes lighting up as something came to his mind, “I wonder if it’s still here.”

Before you could ask him what he meant he was already stepping outside to the balcony of the room. Curiosity took you over once again, following him out.

As you stepped after him, he was already squatting down, inspecting the lower part of the wall to his right.

“They painted it over,” he almost sounded sulky and you only now remembered what he was looking for.

Your eyes widened, “I completely forgot that we wrote our initials down here. Our criminal side jumped out back then.”

Laughter escaped your boyfriend’s mouth, shaking his head in disbelief, “We were so afraid to get caught. The whole thrill just for them to paint it over like it meant nothing.”

“It was so small, I bet they didn’t even notice it and just painted the whole wall because it needed a fresh coat of paint,” you assumed, remembering the little heart you wrote your initials in.

After the two of you put away your luggage and refreshed yourself a bit, Taehyung told you to get ready for today’s plan.

“Today, you’ll get the best out of reliving old memories and making new ones,” he informed you smugly as he was waiting for you to put on your shoes, standing in the doorframe, ready to go.

Your hotel was close to the centrum, surrounded by several cafes and bars. Taehyung has always loved the aesthetic of Paris, especially on a warm summer evening like this one. He didn’t care about the full streets and the traffic jam, he felt right at home in the overcrowded streets of France's capital.

All Taehyung cared for was the breathtaking views, the old architecture, and being with you. Also known as his biggest inspirations in life, even though if he had to rank it, you would definitely come first.

He always used to say that you couldn’t describe Paris, you simply had to feel it. Back then you thought it was cheesy and cliché of him to say but you knew how much Taehyung loved the city so you never said anything about it.

By now you felt the same way about Taehyung – it was hard to describe being with him, it was something you simply had to feel. And you felt it all, every positive emotion there was, over the span of many years.

You felt the comfort and joy of being loved by the man himself and once again he was proving to you that he was the best boyfriend anyone could have. It has always been like that. And that made it only harder to think of a life without him.

The two of you were walking under the pink-tinted evening sky, people were all around you, pushing and shoving, not caring if anyone gets run over.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung suddenly asked you, taking your wrist in his hand while hurrying to guide you through the crowded street, “I know this must be terrible for you since you hate crowded places.”

“I’ll survive,” you joked, appreciating the way he made sure to get you out of this mess as fast as possible, “Where are we even going?”

To your luck, the ending of the crowded street was right in front of you. The warm summer air was hugging you as you walked next to Taehyung and even though he let go of your wrist again, you took his hand in yours.

For most people that wouldn’t be a big thing but it must have been several months since you and Taehyung were holding hands in public – it almost felt like you were holding hands for the first time again.

“I thought we could start at the street with the cafe we always went to last time,” he immediately shot you a wide smile at your surprising action, squeezing your hand lightly, “I’m so happy to be back.”

You let out a laugh as the two of you were walking down the streets of Paris, “I thought you planned this to sweep me off my feet again but I see, you just did this because you missed Paris.”

It was nice to hear his laugh again, one without worries and filled with genuine joy, “Hey, I’m having the best of both worlds, just like Hannah Montana used to teach us when we were young.”

“Very wise. You’re an idiot,” you replied amused as you eyed the familiar café, a rather small one with the cutest tables out of green metal that reminded you of the ones your grandmother used to have in her garden.

“I agree,” he smiled while coming to a halt in front of the cafe, “But at least I’m your idiot.”

If any other men would say something incredibly cheesy as that it would have made you cringe instantly but Taehyung mastered the art of predictable flirting so well that you almost felt like blushing.

The two of you sat down outside of the cafe on one of the small, round tables as Taehyung ordered two café au lait for you. The ambiance was full of life as people were chattering all around you, enjoying their Friday evening just like you were. There were enough people around you to give the two of you a weird sense of privacy, everyone too busy with their own life to pay attention to anything else.

“I remember last time we were here a mad Jimin called you in the middle of our little date because you accidentally took his keys with you,” you reminisced.

Taehyung remembered that call too well, fearing for his life back then, “It’s been so long, I almost forgot I used to live with him.”

“To be fair, I snatched you away from him pretty fast,” you answered, “We moved in together so fast, once you moved in with Jimin we already made plans to move out again.”

Your boyfriend’s face was resting on his hand as his whole attention diverted to you, his eyes sparkling as he was listening to you talk about old times, “I remember your father wanting to kill me because he thought we were rushing things."

It was heartwarming to think about all the past memories, the smile on your face never leaving as you were talking about them, “You and my dad have come a long way. He might even like you at this point.”

“Well, it only took me several years of convincing him that I’m not leaving,” Taehyung was right. It was a fight for him to make your father like him but he never gave up, “I think as long as you’re not pregnant I’m fine for now.”

“If I’d come home pregnant he’d chase you down with a machete for sure,” the thought alone had you bit your lip so you wouldn’t burst out laughing, “I don’t think he would want to become a grandfather anytime soon.”

Agreeing, Taehyung nodded, "Thank god, I think us becoming parents now would be rather chaotic."

The two of you were having an easy-going conversation, a rare thing nowadays, for what felt like an eternity. He told you about his newest client that he disliked so much and you told him about the new band you discovered and instantly fell in love with. It was almost scary to realize how few things you talked about over the last time despite living under the same roof.

Two coffees each and several topics later, Taehyung and you decided that it was time to leave the café for now, even though you already agreed on coming back for breakfast the next day.

“Where are we going next?” you asked him, wondering what this night still had to offer for you.

As he was standing up he offered you his hand and you gladly took it, “Let me surprise you.”

About twenty minutes later you were sitting down on a picnic blanket on a grassy area close to the Eiffel Tower. Last time you were sitting there, Taehyung kept on insisting how sad it was that he already had kissed you several times before because he thought this would have been the most perfect first kiss to ever exist.

To this day you remember how whiny he was about it, not shutting up until you made him with a long kiss.

“Do you still remember how upset I was about the whole first kiss thing?” Taehyung asked with a smirk on his face while searching for something in his back.

Chuckling, you nodded, if only he knew that you thought about the same exact thing just a second ago, “I just wanted to enjoy the view but you kept on whining.”

“Stop making fun of me,” he laughed, handing you a bottle of wine and a corkscrew, “It was a missed opportunity. Imagine how cool it would be to tell our children about our romantic first kiss under the Eiffel tower. But no, our first kiss was an absolute mess.”

“Stop dragging it,” you insisted with a laugh, “It was perfectly fine.”

Scoffing, he got out a lunchbox filled with several croissants and some cheese, “Perfectly fine? We were drunk in Jeongguk’s bed with Hoseok and Becca spying on us through the window.”

“I loved it,” you assured him, laughing brightly. You did love it - it was perfect in its own way, “Maybe it wasn’t 'kissing under the Eiffel Tower while being wine-drunk' perfect, but it was enough to make my heart flutter.”

Taehyung's deep chuckle as he was thinking back to your first kiss was almost endearing, “I was so nervous back then. I kept on hoping that you wouldn’t try to hold my hand because it was super sweaty.”

Drinking the wine straight out of the bottle, you and Taehyung enjoyed the view as the sun was almost gone and the Eiffel Tower was shining brightly.

It was so easy to think of the old times, back when both of you had nothing to worry about ever because your relationship was the strongest thing to exist at those times.

“We were so much younger,” you laughed as you laid down, head resting in Taehyungs lap, “Just two college kids with no worries.”

Taehyung’s long fingers were playing with your hair as he was looking down to you – the sparkle in his eyes was still there, even after everything you’ve put him through. It never went away, not when you first told him you’re reconsidering you’re relationship, not when you started to sleep on the sofa, not even when you confessed that you weren’t sure about your feelings anymore.

How hard it must have been for him to watch you fall out of love right in front of him without being able to stop it happening – and still he never stopped fighting. This trip was just another try to save your relationship.

And honestly speaking, you felt closer to him right then and there than you did in months. As you were looking up into his eyes, in the city of love, with a thousand stars in the sky you almost thought you could go back to normal. But what would happen as soon as you were back home, the risk of your everyday life catching up and cursing you once again?

He offered you a breathy chuckle, not breaking the eye contact for even a second, “We’re still young, buttercup.”

“Why does it feel like I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders then?" you asked him with  a pout, "It certainly wasn't like that in college."

"That's probably because we stopped drinking in the middle of the week," he joked, his fingers were slowly wandering from your hair down to your cheek, caressing it lovingly.

He managed to get out a chuckle from you, enough for him to be satisfied. Nodding, you agreed with him, "You might not be wrong about that. But that's what I mean. We couldn't just get drunk in the middle of the week because we're simply feeling like it anymore. We're too old for that."

Taehyung let out a laugh, shaking his head in disagreement, "Let me prove you wrong. Next week, I'll buy a bottle of your favorite liquor just for the two of us and we'll drink it in the middle of the week and the next morning we'll both call in sick."

"No way," you scoffed with wide eyes, "We can't just do that."

Your reaction was too cute for Taehyung to handle, he could swear he felt his heart melting at the shock in your face, "Of course we can. And we will."

"You're insane," you told him, "We can't skip work because we're hungover. We have responsibilities."

Taking your hand in his he brought it up to his mouth, kissing every finger individually, "Stop discussing with me. We can and we will. You're always overworking yourself and I bet it could help you relax. Just trust me."

Laughing, you realized that Taehyung was actually serious, "Alright, Tae. I trust you. Let's do it."

It was about 10 p.m. when you and Taehyung decided to end your little picnic and continued your evening in the form of taking a walk along the Seine, your eyes glued to the shimmering reflection of the city lights on the water. Your hand was held by Taehyung’s, exactly where it seemed to belong.

“Hey, stop, for a second” Taehyung suddenly stated, standing still and making you do the same. As you turned around, you saw him smiling at the sky with his mouth slightly open, reaching out to the sky with his free hand.

“What is it?” you asked with a laugh on your lips, wondering what Taehyung was so fascinated by. all of a sudden

Freeing his eyes from the night sky he looked at you, raising his eyebrow playfully before his arm wrapped around your waist and instantly pulled you close to him, your body stumbling into his as his hand found your face.

“I swear I just felt a raindrop,” his eyes were full of excitement like the ones of a child and it was almost funny to see him like that, “This is just perfect.”

“It’s not raining,” you shook your head playfully, amusement in your voice, “I didn’t feel anything. You’re halluci–”

You were cut off before you could end your sentence, your face now shooting upwards too after you felt a raindrop on you. Taehyung and you both were standing there, him holding you close as you were waiting for another one.

“I told you,” he laughed, “I just felt another one.”

And just then, you also felt one more raindrop on you. And shortly after, another one.

“No way,” you whispered amazed before looking Taehyung in the eyes, shaking your head in disbelief, “There’s no way it’s starting to rain right now. This can’t be a coincidence. You planned this.”

The smile on his face was replaced with sincerity in his eyes, the situation turned serious within seconds as slowly but surely, more and more raindrops hit you.

It almost hurt to look Taehyung in the eyes, the moment a bit too perfect to be true. His arm was pulling you a bit closer to him, closing the remaining space between your chests.

“Do you remember what I said three years ago?” he asked with a certain carefulness in his voice.

You only nodded in response, both of you awfully aware of the tragedy of the situation. Of course, you remembered Taehyung's promised last time it was raining while you were walking along the Seine.

“Due to the circumstances I will obviously not drop down to my knees now,” his voice was filled with pain, “But I want you to know that if we manage to get over this and one day come back here I’ll do it without a doubt.”

It always has been one of your personal favorite memories – you and Taehyung, in the pouring rain in the middle of the night, right where you were standing at that moment. A strong feeling of required love to the fullest between the two of you.

The way your heart was racing and your stomach was tingling when Taehyung promised you that the next time he would take you here he would come to the Seine again on a rainy night and he’d ask you to marry him.

He was so sure of it, so sure that it would happen. Ever since you started dating, both of you were sure that you'd end up getting married one day. Not only you but everyone around you thought so.

Back then, no one could’ve known that the next time you would come you were coming to save your relationship instead of taking it to the next level.

You didn’t have to look at Taehyung to know that his eyes were filled with tears, the way his voice sounded already gave him away. You tried hard to stay calm, a deep sigh coming from you as you once again longed for Taehyung's and your happiness.

By now the rain was pouring, both of your hair sticking to your face and your clothes draining.

“We drifted away from each other,” you repeated what you told him ever so often quietly, your forehead resting against his chest, hoping for some kind of comfort, “but I don’t want to lose you. You’re still my best friend and partner in crime. But you also deserve someone who loves you more than I am capable of right now.”

You felt Taehyung’s hand on the back of your head, holding your head close to your chest right before his lips pressed against your forehead. The two of you haven’t had that much skinship in a long time and you almost forgot how much comfort the broad man could give you.

“Well,” he laughed lightly through the tears, “I don’t want anyone but you. It’s always been like that. I just need you to want me too, that’s all we need to work it out.”

Another quick kiss was pressed to your forehead before you dared to look up again, a few of your boyfriend’s tears getting mixed up with the raindrops on his skin but even though the situation was sad you could see a bit of hope in his eyes.

"I don't know where we went wrong," he started talking again after realizing that you were at a loss for words, "but if you close your eyes and think of the future right now, don't you see me in it?"

You never thought of it that way. Closing your eyes, you tried to imagine how your ideal life would look like in five years.

The scenario in your mind was a clear picture – You, on your birthday, coming home from work. You moved out of your current apartment into a house with more space and more daylight, your parents were there, smiling brightly, your best friend was there too, you saw Jeongguk and Jimin playing with your nephew in the garden, running around like crazy and you noticed Yeontan, running after them.

And then you saw Taehyung – not as your boyfriend but instead as your husband, lighting candles on your cake with the brightest smile, just waiting to kiss you and tell you he's proud of you – with nothing but admiration in his eyes. As soon as you noticed him you felt a tight feeling in your chest, not necessarily a bad one though. It gave you a sense of home, a place you belonged to.

Of course, you knew that this was only your imagination, your ideal idea of the future, and that the reality most likely will be different but he had a point – even though it is hard, you haven't given up completely yet.

“You think we can still save this?” you asked him as you wiped the tears from his cheeks, “What if we go home again and fall into old patterns?”

Slowly, he shook his head no with a sigh before both of his hands found your face and you felt him come closer.

And a few moments later you felt Taehyung’s warm lips on you, the contrast to the cold raindrops sending shivers down your spine. The kiss was slow, romantic, and meaningful – it said more than any spoken words ever could.

It meant that he would take care of you, he would work through every problem with you, he would fight and would hold you close. All of the things you always knew, just forgot over time.

Taehyung was always there and he would always be, as long as you let him.

As he broke the kiss, his forehead still against yours he grinned at you, satisfied with the feeling he knew he just gave you. Taehyung felt it too, the butterflies that went right to your stomach.

“See,” he quietly laughed, “I want to make you smile for the rest of your life. That is if you let me.”

You shot him a smile, a real one, one you actually meant, “Let’s go home, Tae. I’m cold and I want to take a warm shower.”

And like that the two of you walked through the rain, hand in hand, talking about everything that came to your mind.

Taehyung, the gentlemen he was, shielded you from the rain by holding his jacket over your head the whole time, working hard as your personal umbrella.

Despite your feet hurting and the rain pouring, the way home was not bothering you at all. It was nice to see Paris at night once again, especially with Taehyung not able to keep quiet about every little thing he loved about it. Every few seconds he'd point to a building or a statue and one time even to a simple bus stop to tell you how pretty it was.

About twenty minutes later the two of you were finally back inside the hotel room, completely drenched and freezing. Even though it was rather late by now, you weren't feeling tired, the adrenaline of the spontaneous trip and all the impressions of today keeping you awake.

The warm water hitting your body as you stepped into the shower was much needed to prevent you from freezing to death. You suddenly became awfully aware of how tired your limbs felt, how exhausted your body was and how much you just wanted to lie down in bed, excited to share it with Taehyung again after such a long time.

Your thoughts were processing the evening – just yesterday you were still doubting that you and Taehyung could ever go back to normal but seeing him today, proving that he still is able to manage to sweep you off your feet, you felt positive.

It might take some hard work and a lot of changes but both of you were more than willing to do anything for your relationship.

As you heard the bathroom door open, you were torn out of your thoughts.

“I’m coming in,” Taehyung warned you with a giggle before the shower curtain was opening, your tan and muscular boyfriend standing in front of you, offering you a big smile.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked playfully as he was hesitating for a moment, not sure if you’d be okay with him joining you but he won’t let you tell him twice.

Hugging you from behind, he pressed a  small kiss right under your ear. You almost forgot how sensational it was to feel his skin on yours, the feeling of it leaving a warm and burning desire in your stomach.

“I missed this so much,” his voice was almost whiny, pressing kisses to the back of your shoulder between every word as his hand was drawing circles on your hipbone, “Missed you so much.”

Turning around to face him, you gave him a small peck with your arms wrapped around his neck, “I missed you too. We should go to Paris more often."

“I’d love to just pick you up and kiss you wildly against the wall right now but the chances that we both slip and die in the process are too high,” he made both of you laugh.

"As sexy as that sounds, I'd prefer no broken bones tonight," you said before leaning in for a kiss. The water between the two of you was kind of distracting but you couldn't care less, just wanting Taehyung to hold you close.

This was the nicest shower you took in the longest time – while Taehyung was busy kissing your jawline, down to your neck, down to your collarbone, and so on, you were shampooing his hair, making him giggle as the kind gesture.

"This feels peaceful," he hummed with his face nuzzled into your neck, hugging you tightly as he was waiting for you to be done so the two of you could go to bed, "I won't let you stay on the couch tonight. Don't you dare to even try."

Turning the water off and reaching for the towels next to the shower you laughed, rubbing his hair with it playfully, the messy wet hair in combination with his puppy eyes being a dangerous combination, "I wouldn't even if you forced me to."

Both of you were slipping into your bathrobes, ready to go to bed after such an eventful day.

"Taehyung," you gasped as you opened the door to the room, your heart skipping a beat, "I don't deserve that."

You were greeted with lit candles all over the room, your favorite show on Netflix already waiting to be played and the biggest bouquet of roses standing on the nightstand.

His arms wrapped around you from behind and you could basically hear the smile he had on his face, "I told you tonight will be a mixture of old and new memories. We had all the old ones, now it's time to create some new ones."

He walked over to the bed, making himself comfortable, "Aren't you going to join me?"

Shaking your head, you told him to wait for a second, looking for something in your handbag.

When you found what you were looking for, you opened the door to the balcony, Taehyung following you, wondering what you had in mind now.

As soon as he saw you crouching down, close to the wall he knew exactly what was going on. Crouching down beside you he kissed your temple as he admired the new artwork decorating the wall.

"I love you still, so much," he almost sounded touched, the small action meaning a lot to him, "We'll get through this. I promise."

[starkerintheparker]

starker reclist - AUs

Hey guys! Welcome to the second part of my personal Starker reclist, dedicated to AUs. Last week I posted my canon-based recs, you can find them here.

I tried to incorporate as many tropes as I could, hoping everyone will find something special within their interests. There are a few a/b/o and underage fics, all properly tagged in case anyone wishes to avoid them. I also tried to highlight soulmate AUs because I reckon it’s a somewhat popular trope. Enjoy! ❤️

Last updated: April 25th, 2020. All new fics added will be marked with ***

• 007 AU by @darker-soft-starker (T, 4k, completed)

Summary: Undercover and bored at an art auction, Tony finds entertainment in Peter Parker.

Review: Look, I’m a simple woman. Daniel Craig has owned my ass ever since Casino Royale and I was reading 00Q and Hartwin before I even shipped Starker. Point is, I like spy movies, ok?! So naturally I couldn’t leave this fic out of my reclist. I you need further incentive, consider this quote: “What, a little late night espionage not romantic enough for you?” Peter retorts, whipping a pistol out from his jacket and aiming it at Tony’s chest.

• 3 Times I Told You I Loved You & 1 Time You Said It Back by @starkeristheendgame (E) background Peter/Steve, Peter/Bucky, Peter/Scott

Summary: Peter Parker confesses his love to Tony Stark three times. Once at ten, once at fifteen and once at twenty. Finally convinced that Tony will never love him back, Peter ventures out into a different path, desperate to find the love he seeks from someone else. But you know what they say about star-crossed lovers.

Review: This lovely fic holds a very special place in my heart. I’m so invested I decided to wait until it’s finished so I can read it all in one sitting. Peter’s longing and heartbreak hurt my poor soul but I trust Jensen to give me that promised Starker endgame - I know it will be glorious when it finally comes.

• A Night on the Town by @scarletmanuka1 (G, 2.3k, completed)

Summary: Nightclub AU. Years after the events of Endgame, Tony has hit rock bottom. The Snap left him crippled, Pepper has abandoned him and has taken Morgan with her, and he's feeling old and lonely. Peter arranges a night out at the nightclub that he works at to try and cheer Tony up.

Review: I love get together fics, especially if it involves oblivious!Tony getting his shit together and going after his man. Seeing him bitter and broken after Thanos was hard, but special kudos to IronBros moments because that friendship is true goals!

• Age of Adeline by @starkerforlife6969 (completed) background Harley/Peter, Bucky/Peter, Wade/Peter

Review: I’d never in a million years think about this movie as a Starker AU but gosh, this is everything I needed in my life and it completely devastated me but I loved every minute of it. As a devoted monoshipper, I was surprised to realize that I got emotionally involved with all pairings, even more so with Starker, which totally paid off. Gorgeous, powerful and heartfelt. God bless SFL.

• assume makes ass for u and me by @pretty-well-funded (M, 1.6k, completed) tw underage

Summary: In Tony’s defense, he was sure the kid was a rent boy.

Review: This 1.6k fic caught me completely off guard and now I’m crying because I need MORE. I love the premise, the dialogue is criminally good, their voices are amazing and I can’t get enough of cheeky!Peter charming Tony with his wit and filthy mind.  

• Bamf!secretary Peter by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed)

Review: Who could ever resist some corporate espionage drama with bamf!Peter leaving Tony speechless and horny? Not me. I’d read more 30k of this verse because competent, sassy Peter Parker is such a kink, omg.

• Biker!Tony by @starkerforlife6969 (T, completed) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Review: Same age AUs are not usually my thing but I can’t resist cute high school sweethearts written by this fandom goddess. Plus, protective!Tony calling Peter “doll” does things to my heart - and Peter’s.

• Breaking Character by @cagestark (E, 8.3k, completed)

Summary: Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and spy for SHIELD. Working with another SHIELD spy, the infamous Spider, he will take down an infamous human trafficking ring in New York. But the act they have to put on will demand more from Tony than he ever thought he'd have to give. Not that he minds.

Review: The spy trope seriously needs more fic like this one, because I’ll have bamf!Peter lying back to save his country while Tony freaks out any day. Cage hits the perfect balance between plot building, fantastic sexual tension, clever dialogue and the hottest smut sequence. What a ride! (Pun intended).  

• Curiosity Killed the Cat by @areluctantsblog (T, 1.5k, completed)

Summary: Peter has been modelling in an art school for years. He's used to strangers' eyes roaming his body - clothed or naked - and he knows that it's not him they are looking at. Not him who they are interested in. He's just a model, a tool for their work. And for a long time he doesn't notice the one pair of eyes that, despite seeing him but rarely, is looking right at him.

Review: Very soft and atmospheric, this fic left me in a bit of a daze and it took me a while to realize it was over. Great writing will do that to you.

• Detective!Tony, Graffiti Artist!Peter by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed)

Review: Oh don’t mind me, just appreciating this author’s talent at writing from the filthiest smut to the softest “Tony saves Peter in all ways that matter” like this ficlet. We stan.

• Eat at Pete’s by feyrelay + glorious art by @peachbabypie (E)

Summary: Peter gives him an unimpressed look, “If you didn’t do your work, then you wouldn’t be able to earn my time though, would you?” Pfft. “Kid, I have more money than god. I can splurge on your delicious pancakes and attention, trust me,” Tony informs him loftily. Peter smiles that wicked, crooked little smile that's just for him. It's not even and perfect like his the-customer-is-always-right one that's more frequently on offer. “I didn’t say you couldn’t afford it. I said you wouldn’t have earned it.”

Review: How can we ever say no to dom!Peter putting Tony in his place and hopefully on his dick + Tony loving every second of it?? Their dynamics are fantastic and that TASTY COUNTER DIALOGUE KILLS ME. EVERY TIME. Check it out and come scream with me: sub!Tony rights :D

• Fire and Ice by LeafyGreenQueen773 (M, 3k, completed) Soulmate AU

Summary: AU where when someone writes on his or her skin, the same thing shows up on their soulmate in the same place as a Mark that fades away in a few hours.

Review: This was the first Starker soulmate fic I’ve read and it made my heart ache so soft and good. Lovely and bittersweet, quiet and painfully honest. 

• Genius, Acrobat, Playboy, Philanthropist by @scarletmanuka1 (E, 28k, completed)

Summary: After Peter's aeriel acrobatics partner, Adrian Toomes is fired from The Avengers Circus Troupe for theft, he is shocked to discover that his replacement is non other than legendary performer, Tony Stark - the man that Peter had hero worshipped since he first learned how to tumble. 

Review: After reading this fic I realized I need more Circus AUs in my life. I could read jealous idiots falling in love while doing beautiful acrobatics for the rest of my days. Original plot, nice character development and I really appreciated how the author inserted little canon things here and there. 

• Happy to Disappoint by @deaded-blush (M, 60k, completed) tw underage, domestic violence

Summary: Adrian Toomes is in quite deep with notorious mob boss Tony Stark. But when Tony comes to collect the debt owed, he's surprised to discover Toomes has an adoptive son. The chance meeting changes the direction of both their lives...

Review: Hands down one of the best Mafia!AUs I’ve ever seen. Read it all in one sitting and by the end I was SHOOKETH and utterly obsessed with this story. Nothing about it is okay so brace yourself for whump!Peter and lots of h/c. Bonus points for an incredibly satisfying ending that will make you gasp out loud.

• Hey Baby, Slip between my Beta-Pleats and get to know my Alpha-Helix? by @starkerforlife6969 and @darker-soft-starker (E, 37k, completed) A/B/O

Summary: Even though Tony can't tell the difference between Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo, Peter really has no other choice. His heat is around the corner, so even though he loathes the party-going, booze drinking, smug playboy know-it-all that is Tony Stark. He'll just have to do.       

Review: I can’t believe life went on as we know it (or did it??) after these two geniuses wrote together. This is the Starker version of “enemies to lovers” we all wanted and deserve, where spoiled-bratty-posh princess Peter finds the perfect balance for his chaotic energy in goofy-unapologetic-charming playboy Tony. Their falling in love is just so tender, so genuine and so good, it’s impossible not to cheer for these two sweethearts through this delightful, carefully crafted story.

• If you let me by @css1992 (E, 12k, completed)

Summary: Peter had tried dating younger guys, but it just didn’t do it for him. They were often too eager, too fast, too rough. Just too young, in general. Not that older men couldn’t be too much, too, Peter learned it the hard way. The man looking back at him from across the room seemed like a good one. He knew he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but he was gorgeous. Possibly the most handsome man Peter had ever seen in his short life.

Review: I remember the first time I read this fic it hit me in such a powerful way I cried a bit and was too overwhelmed to do words and tell the author just how much I loved it. But I never forgot this fic or the way it made me feel. It’s so evocative, so sexy, so raw, so heartbreaking, so sweet and so gentle. Great atmosphere, even greater characterization and some of the hottest smut I’ve ever read. Treat yourself and check this out right now.    

• I’ll be Home by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed) A/B/O

Summary: The story starts when Soldier Tony comes home for a few days, and is introduced to the love of his life.

Review: Will I ever stop reccing SFL’s works? Maybe, but today is not the day. This gorgeous, breathtaking fic attacked me in my own house during Christmas day and made me cry like a baby. I’m a sucker for reunion stories - the longing, the heartbreak, the power of endurance. This fic reminded me that no matter how long or difficult the journey, love will always find a way.

• Little Spider by @stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou) (E, 5k, completed)

Summary: Peter Parker is one of the country's best hitmen, known in the underworld as the Little Spider. He spends his days in the lap of luxury with his billionaire fiance Tony Stark, and his nights doing dirty work for various shady characters. Life is good, right up until someone puts out a hit on Tony and wants Peter to pull the trigger. It... might be time for them to have a talk.

Review: Omg this fic was so deliciously good in a totally surprising and sexy way. Bamf!Peter took my breath away with the perfect balance between his two personas. Tony getting off on that sheer power and confidence is a BIG MOOD and my second favorite thing in this fic. The first being the badass power couple they make. 

• love somebody like you (E) by @intoxicatelou

Summary: five times Tony was Peter’s roommate and one time he was his soulmate instead.

Review: Who doesn’t love some forced proximity mixed with the unbeatable soulmate trope? This plot is the hottest take and my heart cannot handle young!Tony with his brilliant mind and sassy charm protecting and flirting with Peter, unfff feels everywhere *cries in Starker*

• Love Thy Neighbour by @darker-soft-starker (T, 2.3k, completed)

Summary: Tony's new neighbour is kinda weird.

Review: I know I keep saying that same age!AUs are not really my thing but I’m the softest bitch for feel-good, cozy domesticity, and I love how this charming story shows that ordinary life become magical when shared with someone special. I could babble all night about how eccentric and confident Peter seduces our man of science that for once has absolutely no idea of what’s going on - but you really should see it for yourself right now :)

• Mafia Boss!Tony Break Up Make Up by @starkerforlife6969 (E, completed)

Review: Man, this fic was so rude to my heart. The heartbreak, the rough sex, the guilt, the hopeful make up, the gorgeous ending. My body literally cannot take the stress, why are Mafia AUs so doomed and beautiful and more importantly, why is SFL so good at writing them???

• Microcosm Series by @bloomblood (M, 32k) tw underage

Summary: Tony and Peter become each other’s heroes after the Snap, saving themselves before they offer aid back to the world.

Review: I haven’t read many post-apocalyptic fics but this series’s raw atmosphere sucked me in. I adore the quiet intimacy, the slow and tentative healing, and all the silent and complex emotions underneath apparent simplicity. Big aesthetic mood, just as its lovely author. 

• Musechaser by @nightskygardenia (M, 10.5k, completed)

Summary: Eighteen year old art student Peter Parker is desperately searching for his muse, someone who can bring his creative skills to the next level through inspiration. Lucky for him, his next class just so happens to feature a gorgeous model by the name of Tony Stark, a man Peter's convinced is his muse, to the point of staying after class to ask for private modeling sessions.

Review: Another big aesthetic mood, this fic paints a gorgeous imagery. I love the setting, the slow pace and the building anticipation until the sexual tension finally breaks. Peter is adorable and Tony exudes confidence; their voices are spot on and their chemistry is palpable and intense.  

• My Best Friend’s Dad by @darker-soft-starker (M, 17.6k, completed)

Summary: Peter is home for the summer, back from his first year away at college. Having stayed over at Harley's house every weekend since they were fourteen, he never used to think much of his friend’s dad. A few years worth of college experience has Peter noticing Tony in a different way. This time, Tony notices him back.

Review: Turns out that Tony Stark being a dad and a daddy is too much for my body. I worship this fic. I wanna get married to it and have its babies. No words will ever make it justice *sobs* no but seriously, secret relationship is a perfect Starker trope and this one will take you to the edge of your seat until the very end. A+ characterization, lovely build up, infuriating cliffhangers and the wholesome happy ending we all deserve. This is the kind of fic that leaves you a bit depressed once it’s over, because you suddenly realize you’ll never read it for the first time ever again. So get to it and make sure to enjoy every second!

• One Call Away by @readysetstarker (E)

Summary: Tony didn’t need the phone sex gig. He was more than well off, his own sex life was in great shape, but damn, there was just something about listening to someone else get off to his voice. 

Review: Omg who could ever resist sex hotline + daddy kink + identity porn? Dev is coming after our own hearts and bodies with this hot combo. I love the balance between their cute chemistry and the hot phone sex, plus the identity porn is deliciously fun. I was so happy to know this fic is getting longer than the author had previously anticipated because I’m definitely not ready to let it go.

• Open Road by @starkerflowers (E, 2.5k, completed)

Summary: It’s not love, but it’s good. TW: implied abuse (not between Tony/Peter); bruises/violence; panic attack. 

Review: This refreshing not-quite-a-love-story will capture your heart, make it hurt, make it ache, make it hope and finally, make it heal. This fic is so gorgeously written I honestly cannot rec it enough. Yes, it’s dark and angsty, but it’s also gentle, hopeful and deeply evocative.  

• Panty Raid by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed) A/B/O

Summary:  Imagine Tony being forced to do a panty raid as an initiation for his fraternity. So Tony, keeping up his playboy appearances, sneaks into the omega dorms. And he sees sweet innocent Peter who is so alarmed by the alphas raiding their dorm Tony can’t help but comfort him.

Review: Unf this fic is just too charming and cute, my heart cannot take it. Frat stories are so fun they make me forget my preference for age gaps and realize I could read more 50k of protective young!Tony any day, please and thank

• Pete’s Eats by @darker-soft-starker (T, 9.3k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a YouTube channel where he just drinks wine and teaches people how to cook things if they live in a mediocre apartment. While cooking and drinking he just talks about stuff like memes and school and, most importantly, his undying thirst for Tony Stark.

Review: This is legit the funniest shit I’ve ever read, everybody else can go home. I was already sold on Peter being a relatable thirsty dork, but Tony’s A+++ characterization (for a moment I thought it was RDJ on the big screen) and the identity porn side trope killed me for good. And what a way to go. I’m an angst hoe but I could read this forever and would be okay with it. 

• pondus, pondera by spqr (M, 9.3k, completed) underage prostitution but not between P/T

Summary: Peter sells his virginity for $5,000 when he’s fifteen.

Review: Ugh I’m so weak for the angsty hooker trope, I just love the potential to simultaneously explore whump, mutual pining and gentle recovery. Trust spqr to deliver it all with a carefully crafted slow burn, god-tier characterization and a heartfelt and satisfying get together. This fic is a gem.

• Powerful by @cagestark (E, 4.6k, completed) SIM!Tony

Summary: After finding out about Peter's abusive ex, Tony privately vows revenge.

Review: This fic took my breath away and made me realize that dark!Tony with a soft spot for Peter is everything I need in my life. Precious Peter being empowered by a viciously protective Tony is now my absolute jam, and it was fascinating to see see their dynamics mutually feeding each other’s nature. This fic is gorgeous, sexy and liberating. 

***Red Light District series by @starker-stories (17k, ongoing)

Summary: Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a playboy who has dozens of women passing through his life and through his bed. What everyone doesn't know is that Tony Stark is deeply closeted, longing for something he can't ever have -- a life and a love with another man.

Review: I’m completely in love with this series and not only because it explores the good old hooker trope which I’m very partial to. It’s so well written and atmospheric, if a tad bittersweet and heart-wrenching. Great narrative tension, Tony and Peter’s chemistry is insane, their voices and dialogue are amazing and the smut is looong and scorching hot *chef’s kiss* 

• Samadhi by @starkercrossedlovers (E, completed)

Summay: Tony goes to yoga to try and deal with his anxiety and ends up falling for the instructor, one Peter Parker.

Review: Okay so yoga fics are among my guilty pleasures and I can’t get enough of feel-good fics like this one. Peter’s such a sweetheart, so thoughtful and amazing with Tony. I love it when they take care of each other and find solace together, this fic made me soft :’)

• Single dad baker!Peter and lawyer!Tony by @starkerforlife6969 (G, completed)

Review: I’m not usually a fluff girl but this fic is just too wholesome to go by unnoticed. Nothing hits my soft side harder than a cynical character reaching that turning point that makes them start to believe in love. Fuck yes, YOU SHOW THAT MAN SOME HAPPILY EVER AFTER PETE

• Soft Kitty by @ko-fiandfanfiction (E, 33k, completed)

Summary: Peter wasn’t wearing something Tony would call normal, not that there was anything inherently wrong with what he was wearing or anything. It just struck him as…different. To put it plainly. Tony is not sure what to make of this new development.

Review: For those of you who love some occasional feminization, this is the perfect treat. Soft, sexy and sweet, it combines top guilty, pining Tony with oblivious idiots in love, two of my favorite tropes. Amazing slow burn with glorious sexual tension, infuriating dancing around each other and a very satisfying get together. Bonus points for including the “Avengers living together in the Tower” trope, this is the 2012 team building fic we deserved.

• Solitaire by @darker-soft-starker (M, 29k, completed)

Summary: After a traumatic experience, Tony loses his marriage and his business empire in one fell swoop. At rock bottom, it takes real change to pick up the pieces, to dig himself out of the funk he's been living in. It's not pretty. Along the path of healing Tony meets a bright young man, Peter Parker, who makes the entire journey worth it.

Review: Oh man, this was a tough ride on the soul. Few things hurt me like reading whump!Tony but his healing journey is so beautiful it’s all worth it. Top notch characterization, amazing dialogue, FEELS EVERYWHERE, and a gorgeous portrayal of loneliness, friendship, hope and love.  

• Someone Who Makes you Happy by tuesday (T, 6k, completed) Soulmate AU

Summary: Peter was born with several marks already marring his skin, including an interlocking AES over his heart. A scar-sharing soulmate AU.

Review: This fic is absolutely stunning and it makes my heart ache in all the right places. Great worldbuilding (I LOVE the scarring concept, so unique and fitting to these characters), A+++ Tony characterization (the wit and the self-hate are so spot on I could weep) and a journey full of longing, until they finally get to be on the same page. 

• Splice by Mezzymet (E, 35k, completed) A/B/O

Summary: "He's not...." The doctors polite nature and disposition hadn't been able to mask the odd tone of his voice, like he had been reading someone's death certificate. Only Peter hadn't been on his death bed. "Peter isn't like the other kids.

Review: I keep coming back to this story because it’s such a fascinating and unique take on this trope. Very well thought and put together - the world building is fantastic, the sex sequences are breathtaking, and Tony’s gentle thoughtfulness makes me wanna cry.   

• Stopover by @cagestark (E, 10k, completed)

Summary: A stopover is just a break in a journey. Tony is on the run from the organization he used to kill for, and when he stopped for gas and coffee in the small town of Stopover, IL, he had no plans to leave with anything more.

Review: *sigh* this is the mob boss!Tony fic I’ve waited for all my life. Even more impressive than the delicious smut checking all my kink boxes was the phenomenal build up, the overall urgent atmosphere that surrounds those “on the run”, combined with the gentle wonder of stealing a moment in time to find solace in the most unlikely place. Breathtakingly moving. 

• Student Body President Election by @starkerforlife6969 (T, completed)

Summary: Tony and Peter are competing for Student Body President and a smear campaign takes things a little too far.

Review: GIMME ENEMIES TO LOVERS AND ALL THE HIGH SCHOOL DRAMA. This ficlet is so fun and adorable it will make your heart smile. Great plot idea and the usual bonus points for protective!Tony being a sweetheart. Will have more 30k, pls and thank.

• Such a Softer Sin by @css1992 (E, 18k, completed) background Peter/Norman

Summary: Tony is a self-made man. Peter is a sugar baby – someone else’s sugar baby.

Review: Another fantastic slow burn that hit me hard in the feels. I love it when fics explore the characters’ personal struggles before they get together, and while the Peter!whump destroyed my heart, Tony’s parallel journey of growth took my breath away. css1992’s talent took the good old sugar baby trope to a whole new epic level. 

• Summer Daze by @darker-soft-starker (NR, 4.3k, completed)

Summary: Starker no-powers au where Peter watches construction worker Tony from his bedroom window as the older man works across the street.

Review: Ahh yes, the classic “food as metaphor for love” trope, my absolute jam. This fic is so adorable and endearing, pining!Peter in his wooing mission makes my heart ache and the sweet anticipation is so good. There’s something about this fic that gives me nostalgia; it’s as soft and warm as a summer breeze.

• Tamed by @cagestark (E, 8.3k, completed)

Summary: Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and spy for SHIELD. Working with another SHIELD spy, the infamous Spider, he will take down an infamous human trafficking ring in New York. But the act they have to put on will demand more from Tony than he ever thought he'd have to give. Not that he minds.

Review: It’s no wonder this is Cage’s most beloved fic. Bad boy!Tony being all soft for Peter is everything we deserve, not to mention a mesmerizing (and HOT AF) first time together. This fic shows how rich and captivating Cage’s writing is - she’s able to transform that old basic trope into something unique and heartfelt. If you need one more reason to read this, please consider: best first bj ever :)    

• Teacher!Tony wrong number by @areluctantsblog (T) tw underage

Summary: Peter’s using a replacement phone and mistypes Ned’s number asking for help on a physics problem.

Review: I have such a soft spot for this fic! It was one of the first AUs I’ve ever read and I’m completely in love with their dynamics. Peter’s underage but this fic is carefully written and pretty tame, so I’d rec it to anyone looking for the good old “they probably shouldn’t, but then again nothing’s happening” trope.  

• The Bleedover Effect by tuesday (T, 11k, completed) Soulmate AU

Summary: The first time Tony got punched in the face by nobody there, he had a lot of very complicated feelings about it that mostly boiled down to, "I deserve this." A pain-sharing soulmate AU.

Review: Tuesday truly is the queen of soulmate AUs, we have no other choice but STAN. First of all, I adore the concept here - being such a sucker for whump, this could easily become my favorite soulmate trope. As usual, her Tony voice is perfect and his devotion to Peter hits my fragile heart every time. Kudos for the soft and hopeful ending. The series has been discontinued but the sequels are very much worth the read, if you’re up for it :)

• The Catfish Chronicles by @stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou) (E, 32k, completed)

Summary: Peter creates a fake profile under the name “Benjamin” trying to catch his scumbag boyfriend cheating. Tony creates a Tinder profile for "Anthony" looking for love late in life. Funny how two geniuses who fight side by side every day can only manage to fall in love after they've accidentally catfished each other. This is... gonna get awkward.

Review: My identity porn thirst might be showing but who cares, I want these two idiots pining after each other in every possible way. This was such a fun and exciting ride! The suspense had me legit freaking out and their get together was lovely and wholesome. I particularly adored how thoughtful and sweet Tony was dealing with Peter’s insecurities, that was handled really well. A treat!

• The Concept of Domesticity by @peters-tofu (E) mpreg

Summary: Tony has accomplished nearly everything he's set out to do, now he wants something different. A family of his own? Sounds easy enough. But he's far too impatient for a relationship, so surrogacy it is. Meanwhile, twenty-two year old college student Peter Parker has just volunteered to be a bearer at an agency.

Review: Can’t say I’m a big fan of this trope but since every rule has its exception, here it is! The only Starker mpreg I’ve ever read is so so good and adorable I can’t help smiling every time I think about it. I just love their dynamics, the soft domesticity, the cute bantering, and the fact that Peter has one baby daddy all wrapped around his little finger but what else is new ;)

***The Date by Neuropsyche (E, 33k, completed)

Summary: Tony has a high society gala and he needs a date.

Review: My favorite fake dating AU so far, this fic is so sweet and wholesome. Confident!Peter is my jam and it was amazing to see their sassy bantering evolving into genuine affection towards each other, not to mention the delicious hot smut with dom!Tony :D 

• The Final Heist by @starkerforlife6969 (G, 10k, completed)

Summary: Tony’s only got one more heist. He does this, he can be retired on an island in the Mediterranean in a month. All he needs is a world-class art forger. (White Collar inspired)

Review: Honestly, the amount of times I’ve mentioned SFL in this list is getting embarrassing. I must have done something really good in another life to get such a talented author writing something inspired by one of my favorite TV shows. I feel like this fic was personally crafted for me; it’s original, romantic, sexy, fun, clever and so very atmospheric. I’m a lucky hoe. 

• The Heart Benefits of Exercise by @areluctantsblog (E, 14k, completed)

Summary: Personal Trainer Tony and Gym Newbie Peter. Peter can hardly keep it together watching Tony demonstrate different exercises and lift weights. Tony is very much aware of the effect he has on his trainee, and after a session, Peter begs to be shown a whole different array of exercises.

Review: This fic was a lovely surprise, very relatable and entertaining. Love myself an adorable Peter thirsting over Tony (can’t really judge lol), especially if it comes with a good amount of pining and hot, kinky smut :D

• Tipping the Scale by JayPendragon (E, 119k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a rhythm. A system. All runs like a well-oiled machine, engineering pun intended. Every wheel of his life is churning perfectly. He doesn’t expect Tony Stark of all people to throw a wrench in it.

Review: Hooker!AUs are my kryptonite, I’m so here for the “fuck first, talk later” and the general pining + misunderstandings + h/c combo this trope provides. This amazing longfic delivers it all with a well-paced, delicious slow burn told from Peter’s POV, which is always a delight to read and makes you fall even more in love with him. If you also enjoy this trope you’re in for a treat!

•  To Catch a Spider by Thekeyandquill (E)

Summary: After the war, Peter Parker left his career as a spy behind to live a simple life in the south of France. But when someone frames him for the theft of plans for a new weapon, he must re-enter his old life and get close to the real thief's likely next target - one Tony Stark. A To Catch a Thief AU.

Review: TKAQ is so skilled their writing should be experienced like fine wine. Amazing research, top notch world building and characterization, and the loveliest atmosphere that makes you feel like you’re inside a movie. Clever, organic dialogue and a sexual tension so palpable you can almost taste it. This is a gem. Make sure to check their other works.

•  Two White, Two Black, One Pink by @starkerforlife6969 (E) poly fic: Peter/Tony, Peter/Steve, Peter/Bucky, Peter/Strange Summary: Peter has three (maybe one day: four) men in his life who mean the world to him. Review: Ugh, this fic is pure bliss. It has legit ruined me for any and all other poly fics. Words just cannot describe how gorgeous, poetic and unique SFL’s writing is, or how deeply it has affected me. So if you enjoy Mafia AUs, poly fics and soft-but-also-bamf!Peter taking care of Tony AND being taken care of by the men he loves, give this a chance and experience transcending storytelling. 

•  Uranium Heart by spqr (M, 11k, completed) Soulmate AU Summary: It’s probably better, Peter thinks, that he doesn’t know who his soulmate is. He wouldn’t want to lie to them about Spider-Man, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell them the truth, either.

Review: Be still my heart. This is such a gorgeous fic! Not only it combines two major tropes in a coherent 11k story, but I also appreciate how spqr explores these characters and their dynamics in a very unique and realistic way. I strongly recommend checking their other works, especially Landslide. 

•  Waiting Game by @cagestark (E, 6k, completed)

Summary: Peter hasn't seen Tony in fifteen years. Not since he had their hasty marriage annulled, graduated college, and moved across the country. Their twenty year high school reunion will find them reunited. They've both changed, but one thing hasn’t. Hint: it's their feelings for each other.

Review: This fic literally made my heart BURST WITH FEELS: the whole build up and anticipation, the slow disclosure of their past, the first uncertain moments of their reunion. I also appreciate the powerful and moving message underneath it all, that true healing comes after we overcome our demons at our own pace. A masterpiece.

•  Wooing Peter Parker by Neuropsyche (E, 62.5k, completed)

Summary: Tony and Rhodey dodge the press and sneak into the library where they meet Peter Parker - who immediately catches Tony's eye. But Peter isn't a one and done kind of guy and Tony's going to have to work for what he wants this time.

Review: This is the kind of fic that warms you all over and makes you smile non stop. It has so many elements I love in fic: cute flirting, clever banter, hot sex, soft domesticity, boys being reasonable and talking their problems out for a change. If you’re looking for something light, sweet and honest, this series is a must read!

[drprettyboyspence]

Memory Lane

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Reader just can't seem to get to sleep one night so she decides to walk around the house she shares with her boyfriend, Spencer Reid. As she travels around the house she remembers significant moments in their relationship.

words: 2.9k

warnings: season 12 spoilers, mentioning of mental illness, nothing else to my knowledge! (just a lot of fluff) 

a/n: This is my first Spencer Reid fic and I kinda went off the rails with the word count, let me know if you enjoy it :)

I turn myself over in bed for what feels like the four hundredth time this hour, facing the ceiling now. I can hear the rustling of leaves outside and the distant sirens of the city, remembering how those sounds used to bring me some sort of comfort as a child, now all I can think of is the death and tragedy being an FBI profiler has brought me into contact with, the horrors at the end of the trail of sirens. Mostly noticeably though, I hear the steady breathing of the man lying next to me in the king bed, glancing over at my boyfriend of almost 4 years I smile warmly, his unruly hair draped over the pillow, glad to see him in deep sleep. Recently he hasn’t been sleeping well, suffering from PTSD from his time spent in prison as well as all the trauma the poor man has been through in the last 10 years of his life. I quietly get out of bed, making sure not to bother him, he deserves a good nights sleep and we have to be at the BAU in a depressingly minuscule amount of hours. My feet hit the cold wooden floors and I wonder for the uncountable time “Why did we decide on wooden floors?” A memory of an argument with Spencer answers my question,  

“Because silly, don’t you know that carpets can hold up to 200,000 bacteria per square inch, this room is 100 square feet, 144 square inches per square foot, that is 28,800,000 bacteria in our bedroom alone.” I remember shaking my head at him, he’s always been such a germaphobe. In fact, when we first met, he shook my hand, and later when I confided in JJ and Penelope that I had pretty intense feelings for the resident genius of the BAU, they mentioned that he usually hates shaking hands, is known for refusing to shake the hands of many people the team comes into contact with on cases. He shook my hand right away, it’s one of the things I love about him and we always say we knew right away that we had a special connection. I glance at Spencer’s sleeping frame one more time before leaving the bedroom and making my way down the hallway. There are pictures there, pictures of me and Spence, him and his mom, pictures of the team at work, Spencer won’t admit it often, but he wakes up every morning scared that he won’t remember those he loves, his mother’s dementia and schizophrenia have impacted him greatly. I stop in front of a picture of me and Spence, it’s the first picture we ever took together, Halloween almost 5 years ago now, at the FBI Halloween party.

October 2015

“Come on Y/n! How can you not love Halloween!”

“Spencer, what’s so great about Halloween!” I had asked laughing while filling up a plastic cup with punch. The party is fun, but all this dressing up just seems silly to me sometimes.

“It’s a uniquely American holiday! I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints’ Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants’ traditions and beliefs. It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity!” I catch JJ’s eyes from across the room, she gives me a sympathetic look as I’m stuck in another of Reid’s constant statistics rants. Frankly, I don’t understand how the rest of the team can cut Reid off when he’s like this. He’s so genuinely excited by this holiday it makes my budding feelings for the man standing in front of me even stronger.

“Aw you guys look so cute! Say cheese!” the always-hyper voice of Penelope Garcia shouts from across the bullpen, snapping a quick picture of me and Spence before running after Derek. I glance down at my phone and see a text from Penelope “It doesn’t take a profiler to realize how gone you are for him Y/n” I blush profusely before continuing my conversation with Spencer.

Present day

Tearing my eyes away from that specific picture, I continue walking to the end of the hallway, painfully aware that the floorboards are squeaking with my every step, hoping Spencer’s just-finished-a-case level of exhaustion will prevent him from waking up. I pass the threshold into the kitchen and see the dim light of the clock over the stove, the red 2:15 blinking back at me through my tired eyes, I just can’t seem to get to sleep tonight, I’m sure Spencer would say something like

“Chronic insomnia is usually tied to an underlying mental or physical issue. Anxiety, stress, and depression are some of the most common causes of chronic insomnia but even if you do not suffer from chronic insomnia, 35% of Americans report their sleep quality as poor or only fair.” Dating a living encyclopedia definitely has its perks I suppose. I walk towards the fridge and glance at the refrigerator, my eyes traveling to a postcard held up by a doctor who magnet. Houston, Texas the postcard reads.

February 2017

Me and Spencer had been dating for less than 6 months but as we had known each other for over a year I was falling head over heels in love with him. The last few months hadn’t been easy, Spencer learned that his mother had been diagnosed with dementia and not a day had gone by where he didn’t try and find a cure, he had been traveling to Houston,Texas to talk with his mother’s doctor, he then brought her to live with him in Virginia, it had been difficult to say the least. My fingers traced the edges of the postcard I had received in the mail this morning, then flipped it over and saw Spencer’s familiar scraggly handwriting, it read

Dear Y/n,

I was able to speak with my mother’s doctors today, I feel as though there must be more I can be doing, she seems to be responding to the medicines but I am looking into new methods of treating the disease. I miss you so much Y/n, and I miss the rest of the team as well, tell them I will be back as soon as I can, I hate the thought of you putting yourself in danger on cases without me there, not because I doubt your ability to protect yourself, but because I doubt my ability to handle being 1,402 miles away from you. Please do not worry about me, if you’re anxiously awaiting my return, stop looking at the clock because remember, when looking at a clock our brains anticipate what we’ll see faster than we actually see it, so the clock seems to stop, Ill be back before you know it Y/n.

With all my love, Spencer Reid.

I giggle quietly at the added facts, only Spencer would describe the phenomenon of a clock appearing stopped when glanced out. I’m concerned about Spencer though, I’m not sure what is going on, but there is definitely something not right with him and if I didn’t trust him so much I would consider asking Garcia to do a background check to check the legitimacy of his travels to Houston.

Present Day

This postcard is extremely bittersweet, the next week we were all rushing to Mexico, responding to a call that Spencer was in jail, I was a nervous wreck, we all were, it was an extremely rough 6 months, truly showing me how strong the man I love is. I push some of those harsh memories out of my brain, choosing to focus on the happy memories if I ever want to fall asleep tonight. There’s a coffee machine next to the fridge, if there’s one thing Spencer loves more than me, its coffee, or rather coffee flavored sugar with the amount of sweetener he puts in his cup every day. Spencer smells like coffee, almost always, he struggles to sleep most nights and therefore is always hyped up on caffeine. It's actually played a huge role in our relationship.

August 2016

Dr. Spencer Reid and I are walking to the BAU together as we do every single day, we live close to each other, close enough that he walks about 5 minutes before arriving at my house, we then walk to the coffee shop on the way to the train station. We’re best friends, but I’ve been secretly in love with him for months. Walking into Quantico, we get the daily glances from Penelope, Derek, and JJ who are sitting together looking at pictures of Henry. Penelope always teases me that we’re both so in love with each other that everyone can see it but us, it’s ironic actually. As much as I don’t believe Pen, I have been noticing small changes in Spence’s behavior the last couple months, prompting me to, in the deepest corners of my mind, hope that maybe he feels the same way, our friendship is worth too much to risk him not feeling the same way though, so I’m forever stuck. We aren’t on a case right now, so there’s a lot of paperwork to be done, at one point during the day I get up, asking Spence if he wants another cup of coffee before walking to the break room. I return after a brief 5 minutes and am surprised to see Derek sitting in my seat, arguing with Spencer.

“Come on Pretty boy! We both know you’re in love with her! Just ask her out man, she’ll say yes!”

“Morgan, quiet down, she’ll be back any minute, besides I’m 35 and Y/n is 32, I’m not saying there would even be a chance that we would get married but the marriage success rate in the United States is only 50%, the worst it has ever been, that therefore shows the state of relationships in the country as well, I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I could never lose her. Besides, I’ve never been good with women.”

“But that’s the thing pretty boy, you don’t have to be good with women, you’re already good with Y/n, she’s the one who matters, just ask her out man, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” With that Morgan walks away and I take a deep breath, its now or never, walking over to Spencer and setting down the cup, whispering in his ear,

“You never know how good with women you are until you try, Spence” He looks up at me with wide eyes and licks his tongue across his lips, something he does often.

“Um, Y/n, y-you heard all of that?” I nod and I can see Spence take a deep breath just as I did before walking over, “W-would you like to um- go to dinner with me Y/n?”

“Hmm I don’t know…” Spencer’s face starts to fall as I quickly continue “Of course I would love to go to dinner with you silly, what did you think?” His smile lights up the entire room as he pulls me into a deep hug.

“Well finally you two. You couldn’t have waited just a few more months though, I assumed you lovebirds wouldn’t get it together until after Spencer’s birthday” Rossi says from behind us, passing a pretty hefty stack of bills to Penelope.

That was the day that started the greatest adventure of my life.

Present Day

I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room, a chilly breeze blows my hair slightly askew, its June in Virginia, warm enough that all I’m wearing is one of Spence’s oversized MIT shirts with pajama shorts, but the night air causes slight goosebumps on my skin, sending me into my memories once again.

August 2019

Spencer and I are sitting on the couch, participating in yet another Doctor Who marathon on the tv, it's a rare day off from work and the hot summer air fills our living room even with the fan blowing through the house. I lie my head in Spencer’s lap as we watch the tv and his strong hand strokes the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. I giggle and glance up at him causing him to pointedly look at me asking me with his eyes “What is so funny that you dare distract from Doctor Who?”

“It’s just strange, its 95 degrees outside but your hands on my neck give me goosebumps like its a crisp fall day, isn’t that funny baby?”

“Of course the most common cause of goosebumps is cold weather, but when you’re experiencing extreme emotions, the human body responds in a variety of ways. Two common responses include increased electrical activity in the muscles just under the skin and increased depth or heaviness of breathing, resulting in goosebumps.” I roll my eyes at him and playfully swat his hair out of his eyes.

“Only you, Dr. Spencer Reid, would take a romantic statement and turn it into statistics, and I love you for that” he kisses me and well, the Doctor Who marathon was quickly turned off after that.

Present Day

As I turn the corner into the living room I smile warmly, it’s the room that Spencer and I like the best. There are book cases lining the back wall, Spencer loves books, I’d ask him what made his books so special and he’d tell me stories of his childhood, his mom reading him 15th century literature, I loved when Spence told me stories about his childhood.

December 2017

I knocked on the door of Spencer’s apartment, it wasn’t like him to be late for our daily walk to work especially because he had been on probation after his time in jail. I received no answer, prompting my concern as I unlocked the door with the key he had given me. I walked into his living room and saw him, Spencer was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by books, running his fingers up and down the pages as he does when he’s reading at his top speed.

“Spence what on earth are you doing! Where did all these books come from? We aren’t on a case are we?”

“This year in the United States alone there have been 328,259 new books published, I read at 20,000 words per minute but at an average of 100,000 words per book, it would take me 27,377 hours to read all those books!”

“Oh Spencer how I love you, you don’t need to read every book ever published, are you going to start reading romance novels?” I tease while picking up a copy of 50 Shades of Gray from the ground at Spencer’s feet.

“Okay maybe you’re right, I just feel like I missed so much time when I was incarcerated, all that reading I could’ve done when I was trapped in that place, it's time I can never get back.”

“Spencer, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you, but this is not going to help that feeling go away, let’s go to work.” Spencer nodded and began to tidy up the floor before following me out the door.

“Wait, Y/n, I have to ask you something that I’ve meant to say since I’ve gotten out of jail, and I might as well say it now, will you move in with me?” He’s chewing on his bottom lip again and I jump into his arms in excitement, kissing his hair as he caresses the back of my head.

“Of course I’ll move in with you! I love you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“And I love you Y/n Y/l/n.”

Present Day

I’m coming around to the opposite side of the living room now, sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace. I love the fireplace in our house and I think secretly Spencer does too. We argued for days over the safety of having a fireplace in our house, Spencer of course supplied with enough knowledge of house fires to last him 5 lifetimes, “But Spencer it’ll be so cozy, doesn’t it sound romantic to cuddle up by the fire?” I had pleaded with him the day we toured the house for the first time.

“Y/n, there were an average of 357,400 residential fires per year in the US between 2012 and 2014, an average of 22,300 of those fires were caused by a fireplace or chimney!”

“But Spenceee, that’s only 6.24% of the residential house fires during that period, 43.9% were from cooking equipment, are you going to forbid us from having a kitchen too?” Hey, don’t underestimate how useful a cellphone calculator and a quick google search can be in winning an argument against your genius boyfriend. Obviously, we had ended up agreeing on the fireplace, but Spencer was still overly cautious whenever it was in use. As I stood in front of the fireplace I became hyper aware of the floorboards creaking in the hallway just as they had done when I left the room earlier, I felt a presence enter the room and the 6’1” frame of my boyfriend wrapped his long arms around me from behind while burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder.

“Hi, baby, what are you doing up so late? Are you feeling okay? Can’t seem to get to sleep?” I nod back at him and recline my head so it rests on his strong chest.

“I was just taking a trip down memory lane I suppose” I say before smiling up at the love of my life.

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 7

A/N: Here is Chapter 7! Thank you so much for your prompts! If yours wasn’t used in here, sit tight because it will probably come into play in the next chapters x I hope you guys enjoy the little flashback toooo...... 

This one is extra long to make up for my absence, I’ve had some family troubles going on which is always 10x worse because we’re confined in quarantine together and I know many many people are struggling with being around and stuck with toxic family members too...

I hope this gives you some escape during this time, it certainly did for me xx 

I’ve been sitting here mulling over this paper work for so long the words are starting to blend together. But I refuse to stop working. It’s my only distraction from thinking about what happened at the meeting yesterday. God knows what kind of consequences Michael received for putting Gina in her place.

My heart lurches as the door to the office opens, but it settles again once I see that it’s only Polly coming in, cursing as she wrestles with her coat.

“Fuck it’s cold out there” he hisses as she looks over and realises I’m here way earlier than I need to be “You’re here early”

“Couldn’t sleep” I sigh “Figured I’d give myself some extra time to get back into the swing of things, in case I’ve forgotten”

“You haven’t forgotten, you’re too good at it” she winks, reassuring me.

I want to talk. I want to talk about anything and everything with her. But all I can seem to want to bring up is Michael and what happened yesterday.

Reading the look on my face, she gives me a sad smile.

“I called him last night. Apparently Gina seemed to be surprisingly reasonable when he got home” She pauses, before continuing with a smirk “Maybe some things you said put her into place”

Trying not to make it incredibly obvious, I exhale slightly in relief. I didn’t even realise I had been holding my breath.

“Is he coming in today?”

“Yes, he is, work as usual”

God. I can’t tell if that makes me happy or makes me want to crawl into a hole. It still feels weird to me, the prospect of being around him but as virtual strangers. Not as lovers. And then there’s the fact that Gina has suddenly had a change of heart and is letting Michael work with me. Is that all just manipulation? Is this just part of her game?

“And Gina is letting him?” I blurt out “Are you sure she didn’t fall and hit her head on the way home?”

Polly scoffs, “I think she already hit her head a long time ago… But, I also think she realised you were right about this benefiting her. That’s if she’s as smart as she is bitchy”

Polly chuckles and I can’t contain my own laugh as she sits down across from me at our work desks.

No matter what Gina is doing, whatever game she is playing by acting okay with all of this, I still flashback to the day Michael asked me to stay away from him and Gina.

“Whatever she is thinking, I still think it’s only best if I try and keep out of their way as much as possible-“

Polly sighs. I know she’s frustrated. I know she wants Michael to be served giant reality check and shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. And I want to do that to. I want to hold him, I want to bring him back. But my mind is constantly in battle about whether he can be brought back or not.

You see, I was sure that he loved me. And then I had that ripped away from me. Since then, nothing feels certain to me. Everything feels like its an unknown. Like I’m just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under my feet without warning. So how could I ever be sure of anything Michael does from now on?

“You know it’s about time you start putting yourself first” Polly raises her brows at me.

I hum in reply as I stand up from my desk to make a much needed cup of coffee. Putting myself first isn’t my strong suit, and I really do not wanting to get into that conversation at this hour in the morning.

This time when the office doors swing open again they bring with them not only a cold breeze, but Tommy, Arthur and Michael.

I’m greeted with them shivering and grumbling ‘good-morning’ as they try and shake the cold. I’m dying to look at Michael, to read his face, to see what stories his eyes have to tell today. But I don’t. I keep my head down, continuing to make my coffee.

“One of those for me?” Tommy asks playfully, smiling as he comes up next to me. When I look over at him, he gives me a little nudge and a reassuring smile. He knows how hard this is for me to be here, around Michael. This is his way of letting me know he’s got my back today.

“I’m making coffee, does everyone want one?” I call out to the chattering Shelby family behind me, who are all taking seats around the table for our morning meeting.

“Only if it’s an Irish one” Arthur replies with a laugh, earning a disapproving slap on the arm from Polly.

I smile to myself as I make our coffees. I still remember the way they all like it. Without even having to think about it. How many sugars they take. Who likes a lot of milk and who doesn’t. And I missed this. Making coffee for the Shelby’s on a cold winters morning, getting us ready for the day ahead. Like our little ritual.

As I carry the hot drinks over to them, handing them into their cold hands, this is the first time I take a look at Michael. We make some fleeting eye contact as I hand him his drink last, before sitting down at the only seat left. The one directly across from him. Goddamn it. I swear that Tommy, Polly and Arthur would have planned this.

Tommy launches into todays plans straight away. But it doesn’t take long for his talking to fall into the background as my attention goes to Michael. Moments ago he was listening to Tommy intently, but now, he’s staring at the mug in front of him like he’s seen a ghost.

Making Michael coffee used to be our thing. He used to hate coffee. But for some reason, he liked the way I made it for him. Lots of sugar. Not a lot of milk. Not to hot, but enough to warm you up on a cold day. My heart starts to race. His face is twisted into a half smile, half frown. Like this moment is painfully bittersweet. God knows its such a trivial thing. But it was our thing. Every morning we would kiss in the kitchen, and I’d hand him a warm mug as we woke up together. This would have been the first time in over 6 months that we have shared that moment again. And of course, these are the circumstances its under.

He fiddles with the mug, running his hands over it before shaking his head. I wonder what he is thinking, what he might be remembering, as he stares into the coffee like his mind is elsewhere…

FLASHBACK

Michaels bare feet pattering down the hallway behind me is followed by a steady pair of hands that wrap themselves around my waist.

He pulls me back against his chest and I let myself sink into him, my head falling back to rest against his shoulder.

“Good morning” he mumbles, pressing soft kisses along my neck and jawline. His strong arms tighten around my waist, enveloping me in warmth.

“Hi” I coo in return, turning in his arms to face him.

I smile immediately at the sight of him. I always do. His eyes are tired, puffy, his hair pushed all out of place.

He closes his eyes in content as I run a hand through his hair. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pulls at my waist to get me closer to him. Our bodies are pressed up against one another, my arms draped over his shoulders and around his neck. There’s no way I could get closer to him than this, but still, he always tries. And I don’t mind. At all. I think we would be constantly joined at the hip if we could.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” He whispers jokingly. I couldn’t even count up all the ways Michael tells me and shows me his love. It’s every day. It’s in both grand gestures and in little moments. Like flowers for no reason.  Kissing me in front of his friends and family. Always holding my hand when we’re out, and giving it a little squeeze when he knows I’m anxious. The way he looks at me from across the room, and already knows what I’m thinking.

“No, I don’t think you have mentioned it before…” I furrow my brows, pretending to think.

“You’re right” he nods “There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary for that”

My heart flutters, skipping all kinds of beats. We’ve been together for four years now. But no one. No. One. Has the effect on me that Michael does to this day.

“ ‘I love you’ will just have to do then” I chuckle

“Well in that case, I fucking love you”

Every time he says it, it’s like the first time. With an intense passion. It never gets old. He never uses it flippantly. It never loses it’s meaning. He still looks at me with those eyes, with awe and love. And god knows I still look at him like that. From the moment I met Michael I looked at him like he hung the stars and the sun in the sky himself. I adore this man. Being those close to him, I can see all the little freckles scattered across his nose. I could spend the rest of my life counting the.  His eyelashes are fluttering and behind them are his eyes. The colour of the Tenerife sea. I can see the little creases and lines, from laughing and smiling. I hope I put some of them there.

He watches me back, admiring me just as intently as I am admiring him.

“You’re so beautiful” he breathes, barely even in a whisper. Like it was a thought that slipped out, that he didn’t even mean to say out loud.

He presses his lips to mine, kissing me sweetly. It’s tender, but without enough passion to make me want to take him straight back into that bedroom down the hall.

When he pulls away, his eyes stay closed for a moment, his forehead resting on mine. Savouring the moment. I wish I could live in this moment right here with him forever. In fact, I’m not quite sure what I would do with myself without these moments. Without Michael.

“Coffee?” I ask, as the kettle finally boils in the background.

“Mmm,” he hums nodding “Please”

He lets me go from his grip, and hops up on the kitchen counter. He sits on the edge, watching me endearingly as I make his coffee just the way he likes it.

“3 sugars, warm but not to hot, just a dash of milk for one Michael Gray” I smile proudly as I stand between his legs, handing him his drink.

These are my favourite days. If I could freeze frame this I would. But I know I don’t have to. Michael is my forever. And I want to spend the rest of my forever waking up like this.  

He chuckles, smiling down at me gratefully as we drink our coffee together.

FLASHBACK ENDS

Suddenly Tommy’s voice gets louder as I come back to reality, realising I’ve just been lost in a memory. I look around the table nervously, relieved to find that no one noticed. Oh god how long was I distracted for.

“And finally, Isabelle… You’re willingly accepting and returning to the role of Head of Acquisitions?” Tommy asks me, a smile on his face. He already knows the answer. Tommy and I were quite the pair back before I left the company. Little partners in crime. He always trusted me, from the get go. And I’ve missed my job. Michael aside, I think I would always found myself working for the Shelby’s.

“Yes sir” I nod back, and Arthur cheers excitedly, clapping his hands.

“You still remember what to do?” Tommy teases

“I might have to fix up the damage you did while I was gone but I’m sure I can handle it” I tease back, earning a laugh from Polly. She always loved having another female working around the company to even things out.

In the corner of my eye I can see a fleeting smile on Michael’s face, before he clenches his jaw and it disappears. Like he’s trying not to reminisce on how much this feels like old times.

“Right, that’s all then?” Polly asks Tommy, and he nods.

“That’s it, everyone clear?”

I’ve got my work already cut out for me today. Now that I’m back in the Shelby company as Head of Acquisitions, I’ve got a lot of liaising the catch up on. A lot of companies that invest in us, that we protect in return who I need to check in on and make sure all ends of our deals are being held up. This is my forte.

And luckily, it’s going to keep me busy and distant from Michael. What I said to Polly earlier still stands. I still need to keep my distance from him. I have to. I can’t expect that he is ever going to snap out of whatever he is caught up in and come back to me. Cause god knows I cannot tell what this man is thinking or where his head is at anymore. I will only break my own heart even more if I wait for something that might never happen.

We all leave the meeting table and I gather my paper work from my desk before heading out for the day. And it’s a long day. But luckily for me, our clients and business partners were mostly excited to see me back in the business. And because of this, they were willing to comply with almost anything. See Arthur had temporarily taken over my role while I was out of the company, and he has a much more… unconventional way of liaising with clients.

It’s dark, almost 6pm by the time I begin to head back to the Shelby limited office, to finish up my paper work from this morning before going home. Adamant that no one is going to be in the office, I let myself in and finally relax from today. I even do something I used to do all the time when I was alone in here, which is flick the radio on and hum along.

Completely content with myself, I float around the desks organising my files and folders, signing of on legal forms and feeling some kind of familiarity and normality in my life again. Maybe I don’t have Michael. Maybe when I leave here tonight, I’m going home alone instead of home to him. But at least I have this. This job. Something to cling on to, something familiar from before my life was turned upside down.

As I flitter past the radio I turn it up louder, swaying to myself. But I’m snapped out of my temporary bliss when I hear a door open and shoes walking across the floorboards.

I spin around, completely startled to find Michael standing, staring back at me just as shocked.

“Fuck” I hiss, placing a hand over my chest as I try to steady my heart rate “I didn’t realise you were here” I stutter over my words.

He shakes his head quickly, his eyes darting to the ground then back up at me nervously.

“No I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you” he quickly replies “I didn’t even hear you come in until I heard the music”

My attention quickly turns to the radio, which is playing obnoxiously in the background. I reach to turn it off, but he stops me before I can.

“Wait, it’s fine, I like it on” he rubs his neck, as the tension and awkwardness just grows stronger.

I nod in reply “I was just finishing up some paper work, I’ll just finish it up a home” I side step away from him, heading over to my desk.

“No, no don’t, I’m going back to my office I was just checking to see who was here ” He insists, and I watch him wearily.

Weeks ago he was staring at me stone cold, heartless, asking me to stay away. Now he’s apologising for accidentally frightening me and insisting that I can finish my work here.

We stand there like fools, both not knowing what to say to each other.

Say something Michael. My mind is begging. Just say what you’re thinking.

But of course, he doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, like he’s not sure where to look or when to speak. Or maybe he’s scared of what might come out of his mouth if he lets himself speak. What he might confess. Reveal.

I begin to play with my hands nervously. How long is he going to fucking stand here for?

My question is answered when he buries his hands in his pockets and gives me a nod, before turning and heading back to his office.

I’m still glued to my spot until he closes the door behind him and he is out of my sight.

So much for a relaxing night alone, finishing off paper work.

I’m only in the office for another 30 minutes maximum, as I rush around trying to get this work over and done with. I went from wanting to hang out here all night, alone and working with the radio going to desperately hurrying to get out of here like my life depends on it.

I’ve probably filed the remainder of the papers wrong, and will have to deal with that tomorrow. But that seems like a pretty good option compared to being stuck alone in here with Michael.

Finally signing of the last document, I lock up all the windows and check the doors are locked too. I wrestle my coat on and clutch at my keys nervously, making my way to Michael’s office.

Just tell him you’re leaving and then go.

“Uh, I’m gonna head home. I locked up all the ” I begin, as I step into the door way of his office, clutching at my keys and bag nervously. As my eyes fall over him, I find him sitting at his desk, his head hanging in his hands.

When he hears my voice his head shooting in my direction, as I startle him. He quickly tries to compose himself, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair.

“Uh yeah okay thanks” He breathes, his face distorted in embarrassment.

He looks exhausted. His eyes blood shot and tired. Like some weight has been on his shoulders and its getting harder and harder to carry.

I realise I’m just standing there staring at him. That’s something that Michael and I seem to be finding ourselves doing a lot recently, because we can’t find the words to say to one another (or maybe we know exactly what we want to say and can’t bring ourselves to say it ). I quickly turn on my heels, wanting nothing more than to run out of there.

I’m almost at the door when I hear him suddenly call out my name.

“Izzy!” He calls, and I halt in my tracks immediately at the sound of my name. At the sound of him saying my name.

“Just wait a second, will you come here?” he asks out breath from the other side of the room.

I pause at the door for a moment, gathering my composure before I turns around and face him. I take a few steps closer to him and he does the same.

I don’t speak, I just wait, holding my breath in anticipation for the words that follow.

“You don’t need to avoid me like this” he breathes, his chest rising and falling heavily, and I can tell his heart is pounding.

I don’t need to avoid him like this. Are you kidding me?

He returns from America after not hearing from him in 6 months, with a wife. He demands me to keep my distance. To quit the job at the pub. To leave the company. For his sake and for his wives sake. And now he wants to stand there and tell me I don’t have to avoid him?

With all the rage and disbelief bubbling in me, I expect myself to launch into a screaming match, yelling at him about how dare he tell me I don’t have to avoid him.

But suddenly, all I can do laughs in complete and utter disbelief. My arms raise and fall back down by her sides in exasperation.

“What do you want Michael?” I beg, shaking my head at him “You told me to stay away… so thats what I’m doing. You came back from America with a new fucking wife. Am I supposed to act like everything is fine? You wanted this Michael! You told me to keep my distance. This what you wanted!”

Now my chest is rising just as heavily as his. I shake my head at him. I cannot believe this man who I used to know inside and out, is now the single most confusing thing to me on this earth.

He looks down, turning his back to me as he puts his coat on and picks up his hat.

I glare at him in anger, thinking that he’s just about to say nothing yet again. But when he turns back to face me, my stomach drops. As our eyes meet, I discover that there are tears welling up in them.

And then, a tear spills over, rolling down his cheek.

“You’re right. I wanted this” He breathes, sounding completely unconvinced, his voice quiet and shaky.

And just like that, he turns and leaves the room, exiting the building through the back alley door. As I stand in the lurch, left in the wake of the tsunami of emotions between Michael and I, one word rattles around in my head.

‘Wanted’

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[mistresseast]

You make some really good points, but I wish literally anyone in this fandom wanted to write about it. I just hate how Akira is not allowed to be happy, and even with the long wait, no one seems to want him to be reunited with Goro and to be happy. Or address how Maruki was manipulative and fucked up. It's just so unfair to him.

I know this fandom seems really doom and gloom most of the time, believe me, it kind of wears me down too sometimes. I love some nice, cathartic angst as much as the next person, but it’s hard to watch characters you care about be essentially left for dead by the fandom over and over when there’s plenty of evidence that they are actually okay and will be able to grow and heal in the future. However, I promise that’s not the only content to be found here. Since Royal came out, I’ve seen a definite upswing in fics and art that celebrate their future reunion and the positives that resulted from the revelations of the third semester. Most of the popular, well-known stuff is just still from before Royal, so the tone is admittedly darker. There’s more emphasis on grief and exploring the repercussions of Goro’s unceremonious “death” and even fix-its tend to get hung up on atonement and redemption instead of healing. And it’s understandable; when a relationship ends the way shuake’s did in vanilla, it leaves people feeling restless and upset, and the best way to vent those feelings is through generating bittersweet content. It’s a catharsis, a way to purge all of the unfinished emotions vanilla left us with. And even now that we have a more hopeful ending, most fans, the ones who have been around since vanilla, are still in that frame of mind. We were so screwed over by the last ending, that we’re just kind of...used to mourning Goro Akechi at this point. 

My experience following along with the real-time first playthroughs of Royal is something that will stick with me forever. I won’t get too into it, but when it looked like Goro’s fate in the ship was unchanged, I was devastated. But then he was back! And then he was gone again. And the translations were perfunctory at first, most of us didn’t know for sure what was going on, so we were all getting ready to accept Goro being “dead” again. Fortunately, that’s not at all what happened! He’s alive and he’s fine and in fact he was never dead in the first place, even in vanilla! It was amazing! And I was so happy for a reason to let go of the grief I’d been nursing since I learned his fate the first FIRST time around. But not everyone is as eager to leave that darkness behind. In some cases, people just genuinely don’t understand what happened in the game, and the narrative of Goro being alive bc of Akira’s wish is so tempting and so painfully beautiful that it’s become essentially fandom canon just by the sheer power it evokes. I may be wrong, but I feel like this is the majority of people. They take Maruki’s words at face value and are then inundated by fandom content that reinforces that idea, making it easy to ignore Goro’s brief appearance in the true ending or write it off. They’ve been trained by vanilla not to expect a happy ending for these characters and they just accept it. And there are also folks who prefer the darker ending, of course, and willingly choose to believe it bc it satisfies something in them. Even I’m seduced by the inherent eroticism of things going badly sometimes, and I write almost exclusively for the express purposes of getting the characters soul married or whatever. Tragedies are compelling and that’s just some people’s cup of tea. No shame there. 

That’s not to say I don’t get frustrated by it sometimes though. It’s frustrating to me that the idea of Akira’s love for Goro sustaining a new dimension is so fucking delicious that it basically overshadows the fact that Goro is actually alive AND buries the lead about what a scumbag Maruki truly is. We’re all so enamored by the High Romance of it all that we fail to recognize it for what it is: a lie. Maruki fucking got us!! He tricked this whole fandom into living in a fantasy world!! God, how meta, how unintentionally brilliant. We’re just like Akira: too in love with Goro to even question what Maruki says. As frustrating as it is, you kind of have to love it.

That said, as time goes on, I believe the fandom outlook will continue to lighten. I saw a HUGE surge of positive post-game content after the deleted scene of Goro at the clinic was discovered bc people were finally willing to give into the desire to give Goro a happy ending now that they’re less afraid of being hurt by some new revelation later on. And as that becomes the norm, the discussion around Maruki will change too. Currently he has this reputation as a well-meaning villain, but when Goro being undeniably alive becomes more ingrained in the fandom consciousness, his manipulation will be more obvious to people. I truly believe that this fandom is full of people who WANT happy endings, who WANT Goro and Akira to be reunited, but have been taught for so long that believing one can actually happen is stupid. And the ending we got is just ambiguous enough to prey on that fear of being played for the fool. As time passes, so will that fear, and the fandom content will reflect that. And there’s already hopeful stuff out there if you look for it! People are catching on! Plus, there’s my time-honored advice: if you can’t find the content that satisfies you, you just have to make it! That’s why all of my fics exist. Putting more positivity out there will only help other people get on board the happy ending train faster.

I know you probably just wanted to vent and didn’t need a whole essay about fandom psychology, but I promise you, I know how you feel, and I’ve been steeping in the shuake stew long enough to tell you that things are already better than they were. We can only go up from here!!

Also disclaimer!! All of this nonsense is based on my individual experience and interpretation. Everyone experiences fandom differently and I certainly don’t claim to be an expert. ymmv