#such that if i want to publish before tuesday i have to write it all during my full time work week

[accirax]

Disventure Camp All Stars Power Ranking (Round 9)

Time to shoot my shot at nailing a perfect score for the next elimination. Something tells me that the power rankings game is about to change, though...

In case you haven't seen my previous power rankings ( 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 ), the Power Ranking Format is essentially a way of ranking how well each player is doing in the game. So, in essence, this is a long form way of predicting who I think will be eliminated from the competition in the next episode. There will be spoilers for last week's episode (obviously) and its power ranking, so make sure to read that first if you don't want to be spoiled on how I ranked our last boot. If you want more clarification on the rules, that first post will help you out as well. Furthermore, I'm going to be spoiling the preview for next episode, so if you want to go in TOTALLY blind, save this for later. Let's go!

Recap - Tess' Elimination

Current Point Total: 34 acquired/53 total

Um. Oops.

Needless to say, Tess wasn't the only one blindsided this episode. I guess putting Tess in the direct middle point of my rankings wasn't that bad in the grand scheme of things, but I'm pretty sure it is my worst call of the season thus far. I had the right idea about Gabby being able to somehow eliminate one of the Cyan heroes, even if the "advantage" I was picturing was entirely different from the team-combining that wound up happening. Thanks a lot for throwing that one on me out of nowhere, Kristal.

Like I said in my initial thoughts, I do sort of wish that Aiden would have been the one to go home instead of Tess. However, I also feel like some opinions I've seen around have been... overestimating the extent to which Tess was a good character this season, in my opinion. I do think Tess' portrayal in All Stars is probably superior to S2, just because her arc wasn't solely hinging on Hunter. However, her portrayal this season was getting a little boring, at least to me. She was kind, patient, a good friend, super strong, great at claw games... what are her flaws supposed to be, again?

It was definitely supposed to be her indecisive nature; she needed to choose whether she should stick with her friends or do what's best for her game. Then again, that decision was kind of made for her by Ellie acting more villainously, such that Tess never needed to make a judgment call. (She got to stand by her friends and do what was better for her game.) I was starting to worry that she would just coast to the finale as a very likeable yet fairly bland hero-- sort of like what the show makes fun of S2 Aiden for being, but at least he wasn't solely solving others' problems as he went.

I don't want to make this sound like I'm some huge Tess anti. I like Tess! I'm sad she had to go! I found her indecision and commitment to kindness relatable, and I enjoyed her interactions with Ally and Ellie especially. I just don't fully understand all of the people bemoaning the fact that the DC writers sent some phenomenal, lynchpin character home ahead of her time when I think she served her purpose as a mid-game exit nicely. Even if you disagree, I hope you can respect me sharing my thoughts.

Trailer Analysis

Here's the big one out of the way-- it's finally the merge! Between the shared tent and everyone being present at tribal, there's really no way to argue around that. Finally, I don't have to try to anticipate when the merge is going to happen to predict where characters might go. Of course, this opens up the new can of worms that is trying to predict how everyone will act now that they're at the same camp. I feel like it should be easier, but... we'll see...?

Here's Gabby following after the villain's alliance. The fact that she's trailing behind them could imply that they aren't fully including Gabby in their proceedings, but... I genuinely don't know why they would do that? With 10 people at the merge, six votes is a majority, so it's super important for the villains to work with Gabby to have at least five in numbers. This is probably more that the former Yellow Team goes off to do something and Gabby follows behind them, making it obvious where her allegiances lie.

Tom and Jake are having a chat... again. Now that these two are on the same team again, this is gonna happen a lot, isn't it?

Looks like the merge color might be black, which makes sense as the K to their CMYK. Yul has some purple paint on his chin, which may be the result of Kristal demonstrating the paint gun on him. Or, the ammo might not be paint, but instead the blueberries we see throughout the trailer-- same point either way. Also, Ashley (and maybe Grett) is the only morning person. Tracks.

The challenge is something involving paint guns, not sure what. We don't see any footage of people covered in paint, which possibly means that shooting other people isn't part of the challenge? Or, maybe they're just trying to hide who doesn't win immunity. I imagine that, whatever it is, Ashley will be pretty good at it. Ally too. All of the guns and gear are the same color, so it seems like there aren't any inherent teams, but it is a challenge in which allies seem to be working together to some capacity.

Everyone at tribal! Very fun. Unlike Survivor, there's no immunity necklace, so we can't tell who may be immune at this vote. People are still sitting with their tribes, but I don't think that has any meaning beyond people sitting by those they're aligned with.

"Once the votes are read, the decision is final. The person voted out will have to leave for the Bus of Losers immediately!"

The dialogue is the standard thing that Kristal says before every vote reading, so nothing particularly special there. However, what I want to look at is who was shown reacting in the flashes before the votes are read. Can they give us hints as to who is in danger? Here's who was shown in every All Stars episode prior to this one:

(no votes)

Fiore + Hunter + Ashley/Jake

Gabby/Tom/Aiden + Tess/Lake/Ellie*

Riya/Grett/Alec + Miriam/Connor/Yul*

Ashley + Hunter/Ally + Fiore

Yul/Grett + Connor/Alec/Riya*

Fiore/Ally + Jake/Ashley*

Ellie + Tom + Gabby

Tess/Aiden/Tom + Riya/Yul/Alec/Grett + Gabby*

Okay, that wasn't actually as helpful as I thought, just because 5/8 rounds showed every person on the team, which guarantees 100% chance of showing the boot. Still, in the three cases that they didn't show everyone, 2/3 showed the boot, and 3/3 of them showed people who received votes. This could imply that some of Ally, Yul, Alec, and Jake could be major vote-getters, or the eliminated person, in the tribal council.

I hoped it would help me out more, because, with unofficial lines drawn between five heroes (Ashley, Ally, Jake, Tom, Aiden) and five villains (Alec, Riya, Yul, Grett, Gabby), I think this tribal could be fairly unpredictable. Will a villain ascend to heroism, or will a hero fall into villainy? Here are my thoughts.

Power Ranking

#1: Gabby

(I guess if the merge team's color is black, I just have to leave the name black.)

She finally did it! Gabby is #1 in my power rankings!!! What could be behind much a major shift in position?

Well, the merge, basically. Not from an edit position, though: this is a direct result of her swing-voting her way to safety. Gabby was the most recent addition to the decently tight villains alliance, so it stands to reason that, if the heroes are looking for a sixth to bring to their side, they would want to work with Gabby, not vote her out. Not to mention, the villains have no reason to target Gabby at the moment, because they desperately need her vote. Sounds like no votes will be cast in Gabby's name, eh?

As the cherry on top, Gabby was the merge boot in S1, and I would imagine that they wouldn't want to give her that exact same placement again. In my mind, there's basically no way that this episode will result in Gabby's elimination.

#2: Grett

My highest placed choices this time were chosen based on the logic, "which of the heroes would be the least likely for the villains to target, and which of the villains would be the least likely for the heroes to target?" Out of all the potential threats in the villains alliance, I see very little reason why the heroes would view Grett as the biggest.

While last challenge did prove that she is a baller, Grett isn't exactly known as being a huge challenge threat. (The one individual immunity she won in S1 was basically handed to her by Alec and Fiore.) She's not a strategic mastermind or leader, and most of the relationships she had coming out of S1 lean negative. The heroes would only target her to diminish the villains' numbers, but if you have the chance to diminish the villains' numbers, why wouldn't you target someone scarier?

Grett appears to still be in the middle of her character arc, and, at this point, I see her arc ending with Yul exiting the game before she does. That hasn't happened yet, so I imagine that Grett will be camping for a little while longer yet.

#3: Jake

Listen up, 'cause this next piece of reasoning is going to be important for the rest of my power rankings this week. I think that, if the villains are looking for a sixth vote to recruit, they're going to be looking to Jake as their most likely addition. Alec already manipulated Jake once this season to vote out James and save Fiore, so Jake would probably be at the forefront of Alec's mind when coming up with plans to eliminate heroes and save villains again. Jake is also... teetering on the edge of hero and villain this season, narratively speaking, so it would make sense if he had to face that music at some point.

Whether Jake flips on the heroes or not, if the villains want to work with him, he won't be their target. And, even if he isn't their object of recruitment, why Jake? The man is a hot mess! His mere presence causes conflict between the heroes, both on the Ashley/Ally end and the Tom/Aiden end. The villains should be trying to keep him around for as long as possible.

Despite my glowing(?) words, there is one way that I could see Jake going home. If Ally, Aiden, or whoever was so sick of Jake that they were willing to work with the villains just to take him out, the villains could exploit that and eliminate him on an "at least it's not me" basis. However, I don't think that would be the plan, because I don't think Ally or Aiden would really want to agree to it, and I don't think it makes much sense narratively. I don't think Jake will be eliminated. That's why he's #3.

#4: Alec

I believe that, if the heroes could somehow magically eliminate the villain of their choosing, Alec would be the smartest option for them to shoot for. He's their leader, and without them, the alliance might crumble (such as, if Yul and Riya start going for each other's throats again).

He's also proven to be pretty good at immunity challenges. Yes, he only actually won 1/5 individual immunity challenges in S1, which was the scorpions in the cave challenge. But, let's look at a breakdown of what actually happened. Alec had mastery of both the questions and cages challenge and the zombie apocalypse challenge, handing off the win to his teammates (Grett and Fiore) for strategic reasons. While it's not a guarantee, it's definitely possible he could have won the medals in the rain challenge if he didn't forfeit the win to Ellie. And, it took active sabotage on Ellie's part to prevent him from winning the final four paired challenge. Add all that together, and... there's a possibility that Alec could have won every individual immunity challenge based on pure skill if no strategy was involved. He's scary!

However, that's only what the heroes would do ideally. In reality, I have no idea how they would bring the votes together to land on Alec. I don't know if all five heroes could count on all five of their votes to coalesce on Alec, much less pulling in one of the villains, who all seem to respect him.

For these reasons, maybe I should have put Alec even higher up on the list. I don't think it would make much narrative sense for him to go home at this point, either. However, I do understand why people would want to attempt to vote him out, which I can't say for Gabby, Grett, or (for the most part) Jake. Thus, Alec lands in spot #4... just like in S1. Smh.

#5: Yul

Kind of similarly to Jake, I think that the main reason why Yul would be voted out would be if the heroes were able to convince the villains (Alec and Riya at least) to flip Yul because he's just that annoying. However, this would be an incredibly bold move to make when the heroes have very little information as to the inner workings of the former Yellow team. As far as they know, Yul and Grett are still a happy couple. I also see Alec willing to give up one of his numbers at this point even less than Ally or Ashley, so the whole plan seems unlikely. Not impossible, but unlikely.

Anyways, Yul is still obviously involved in a plotline with Grett and the rest of Yellow, but that could be resolved in one episode at any point now, imo. I just think that's probably still coming a few episodes down the line, to break up the villains then instead of now. Yul should be thanking his lucky stars that Yellow never went to tribal again after voting out Connor. I guess he probably thinks that he is his own lucky star. Yul should be thanking himself. Yeah, that tracks with Yul's thought process.

#6: Riya

With Riya being placed here, I think you can pretty clearly tell that I think the villains are going to win this round, sending a hero home. I just think it makes more sense with my projected arc for the rest of the season. The villains will stick with their alliance and kick out a hero or two, but just when all hope seems lost for the heroes (for instance, when there are three of them left) the villains will turn on each other and start cannibalizing themselves. Therefore, at the end, we can have a mix of surviving heroes and villains for the finale. That's what makes most sense to me at this point, although I acknowledge that I'm not factoring in the status quo shakeup of a returning player. Mostly because I don't know when they're coming back. Oops.

Anyways, in the case that I'm wrong, I think Riya would be the most likely villain to be eliminated. This is mostly because of Aiden's vendetta against her. I'm not saying that Aiden would necessarily be the hero alliance's leader or anything, but in the case that no one else has any strong opinions on who to take out, we know that Aiden has a strong preference for taking out Riya. Tom would probably back him up, too.

Riya is in a weird spot narratively because what she has right now is, "friends with Alec, enemies with Aiden, friends and enemies with Yul." She clearly has some important relationships, but... she isn't really undergoing any kind of character development, as far as I can tell? Like, they aren't delving as deep into her character as they are with Gabby, Grett, Ally, etc. It's possible that could spell mid-game boot for her? Still, I don't think that will be now, because the villains seem far less shakable than the fractured heroes at this point. I was pretty wrong about Tess last time though, so, there's certainly a possibility that I'll be cashing in 6 points for Riya at the end of this episode.

#7: Ashley

Now that we've reached the merge, Ashley doesn't have that same sort of shield that I felt she had pre-merge. It's definitely possible that the villains would choose to snipe Ashley for the same reasons that the heroes would love to snipe Alec: she's strong and tough, as well as a calming/uniting factor between Jake and Ally. She's the most heroic hero. Take Ashley away, and the prospects of the heroes mustering any kind of alliance grow even dimmer.

However, because Ashley is so well liked, it would be really hard for the villains to convince one of the heroes to vote with them to take her out. Like, no shot Ally takes that deal, and Aiden and Tom would have to realize that it'd be a bad move for their games to do so. There's a small chance that they could manipulate Jake's jealousy to convince him to do it, but 9 times out of 10 that manipulation would result in an Ally boot instead.

Furthermore, there's a high chance that Ashley will win immunity in this country-ass shooting challenge, rendering this entire train of thought pointless. Ashley is probably still fine, but I could see her role in the narrative no longer being necessary at this point as well. It's that that landed her down here, instead of higher on the list.

#8: Tom

These next three are the ones who I believe are seriously at risk of going home. Like I said, I think that Jake is going to (temporarily) continue his chain of character degradation by letting his jealousy land him on the villains team, taking out one of the players he's been complaining about these past few episodes. And, boy, has he been complaining about Tom...!

Tom is a decently big physical threat, so I see no reason why the villains wouldn't agree to take him out if that's what they managed to get Jake on board for. If Tom, say, decided to tell Jake that he was lying about having a boyfriend in their chat on that rock, Jake could grow so fed up with Tom that he just wants Tom out. That could lead to a Tom elimination, as a result of his lies.

However, part of me still believes that it's still too early to pull the trigger on sending Tom home. Both Tom and Jake have still privately admitted that they really care about the other, and if that's how Jake really feels, he might have a hard time actually putting pen to paper. They haven't been on the same team all season thus far. Couldn't Jake still feel guilty about idoling Tom out with his own totem last time, and not be able to write Tom's name down...? I feel like there are still other characters more expendable than Tom, but I wouldn't be shocked if Tom went here.

#9: Ally

Ally is one of the people that Jake could wind up targeting, for sure. Voting Aiden out might make Tom dislike him even more, whereas, theoretically, if Ally were gone, Ashley would have no choice but to make Jake her closest partner. That could be appealing for Jake.

Whether or not Ally would stick around in a narrative sense is... difficult. Now that Tess has been eliminated, I feel like the writers would want to keep Ally around as a representative of that relationship/plot point of S2. However, without Hunter or Tess still in the game, the potential for future Ally-centric plotlines has also been slightly kneecapped.

For whatever reasons, it seems to me like the writers didn't really like the HunTessAlly relationship in general? All three of them had pretty radical personality changes since S2, and Hunter and Tess were both eliminated somewhat randomly in favor of characters who made it further the first time (Fiore and Aiden). Out of the three, I think that changed-Ally both had the most care put into her and emanates the most potential. But, it could be that all three of them were brought back into the season with minor "improvements" (subject to viewer interpretation whether they are improvements-- I think Ally is better, Hunter is worse, and Tess is a draw) mostly as plot devices/stepping stools for other, more important characters.

(I don't hate Ally, either. I like Ally. I just think that the way the HunTessAlly relationship has been handled this season has been less than ideal. I get it, because the writers wanted to prioritize other relationships, all of which I've been enjoying, but I still wish they could have gotten more focus time for themselves and not just as props to other characters. Maybe I'm explaining too much. I don't like being negative :( )

However, I also think Ally could win this challenge with her pro gamer skillz. So, there's that. Besides, I can't help but feel like there's someone Jake wants out of the game even more than Ally or Tom...

#10: Aiden

Aiden makes the most sense as the next elimination for a lot of reasons. Or, namely, the lots of people who want him out may all come together to make him the next elimination. It's striking.

The villains alliance wants a sixth vote to establish the majority, for which they will probably turn to Jake. Jake wants Aiden out of the game because he kissed Tom and they now have a rivalry. That's one person pitching Aiden's name.

The villains alliance also wants to ensure that they keep Gabby on their side-- even if they can pull in Jake, it doesn't matter so much if Gabby flips back to the heroes because she, like, doesn't want to vote out Ally or whatever. Well, no matter. Gabby wants revenge on her former Cyan tribemates, Tom and Aiden. Gabby wants to vote Aiden out. That's a second person pitching Aiden's name.

But, what if the villains themselves don't actually want to vote Aiden out...? Haha, no. Riya very clearly wants to establish dominance over Aiden once again, and even already threw out his name last episode. And, even though Yul insisted that Aiden wasn't a threat last time, it's not like he likes Aiden, either. It was James' refusal to poison the man that got Yul eliminated and really sick in S2. I'm sure he'd be happy with Aiden leaving from a karma standpoint, if not a strategic one. That could be people three and four pitching Aiden's name.

If the villains want to remain united, throwing all their votes on Aiden makes the most sense. I don't think he would win this challenge, and, still, no totem has been announced, so if he gets six votes, I think he's just toast. This is my guess as to the dominant strategy of the episode, so we'll see if I'm on the mark.

Also, I want to acknowledge that I'm aware that it doesn't have to be a 6-4 (or even 5-5) vote at Tribal council. The villains could, for example, scheme to get Ashley, Ally, and Jake to vote out Aiden, and Aiden and Tom to vote out Ally, while the villains put four votes on Ashley (4-3-2 vote). However, due to the difficulty of executing that plan, I find it unlikely that that's what's going to happen. I feel like Disventure Camp usually sticks to pretty standard voting schemes (like a four person vote going 3-1 instead of 2-1-1 or whatever), so I'm working off of that assumption. I think they did some fancier stuff with Fiore in S1, though, so it's not totally off the table.

Anyways! Those are my power rankings for this week. This episode is going to be really important for establishing the key characters and plotlines moving forward in the post-merge, so I'll surely be keeping my eyes out.

Also, this week is the season finale of the actual Survivor 46! Not really related to DC, but I'm really excited about it, so I'm mentioning it here. I'm gonna be swimming in exciting game show content this week >:) I hope you all have a nice week, too! Bye!

[baeshijima]

it is now officially the 25th which means...

merry christmas everyone !!! regardless of whether u celebrate or not, i hope u all have a lovely day with whoever u spend it with or with urself <33

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

AKA Talented Mutuals Tuesday

Except I spent so long making this list that the timezones changed over BUT I wanted to show my mutuals some love and now that we are going into the hiatus I thought you might all like a list of quality fics to keep you occupied while there is no new Weewoo show. 

I don't know if anyone will actually want to join in on this but if you do the rules are simple:

SHOW YOUR MUTUALS SOME LOVE! Share your favourite fics, (or gifs, edits, literally anything that your very talented mutuals have made), as many or as few as you like but let's share the love around <3

Apologises in advance for the long post btw

@speaknowdiaz I would literally read anything that April writes and would probably sell a limb for the incredible WIPs I know she's still cooking up but here are a couple of my faves:

pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend)

Buck challenges Eddie to try to hit on him after teasing Eddie for not having any ‘game’. This fic is very funny and very soft.

believe in one thing (i won't go away)

This fic hit me straight in the feels. Buck and Eddie go to couples therapy even though they aren't a couple and they work through some stuff.

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@thosetwofirefighters Incredible amazing Nat ily xx

Say It All Out Loud

Eddie comes out to Aunt Pepa after his ‘date’ with Vanessa. I am a little bit biased towards this one because she did write it for me but it's honestly just so good!

How to Cure Boredom: Buckley Edition

The 118 are stuck at the firehouse during a slow shift and Buck entertains them all by mattress-surfing the loft stairs. It’s soft and silly and in the same universe as her other fic Safe in His Arms.

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@loveyourownsmiilee The wonderful amazing Juju not only writes incredible meta and keeps us all fed with Oliver content but Juju also writes wonderful buddie fic. 

When Were You Under Me?

Who doesn’t love a Friends AU. This is Buck and Eddie as Ross and Rachel and it is hilarious and so sweet. 

You should also check out her Buddie Language Meta if you have not read it before <3

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@elvensorceress Jenwyn’s work always astounds me so be sure to check these out:

Color Him Father, Color Him Love

I will scream from the rafters how much I adore this fic and yes it did make me cry (happy tears). It’s a look into Buck’s head after his sperm donor kid is born and he realizes what Christopher (and Eddie) truly mean to him. I know I have recced this before but it deserves all the love. 

Unless You Ask Me To

Eddie dates a man for the first time, and Buck is completely 'Fine'. This is a preemptive rec because it is one chapter away from completion and I have been saving it to binge in one sitting but knowing Jenwyn and her incredible talent I guarantee this will be worth the read. 

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@spotsandsocks If anyone’s work is guaranteed to make me sob like a baby (happy, sad, or tears of laughter) it’s Spotty. 

Everything But (temptation)

This is Spotty’s newest fic and it's just brilliant. Buck is practicing extreme self-control whilst Eddie is being an irresistible menace. 

Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

Buck finally tells Eddie he loves him right before Eddie’s new boyfriend is supposed to meet Christopher. Honestly, all I can say about this fic is that it’s a masterpiece and I screamed many times while reading it. 

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@shortsighted-owl Wonderful amazing Owly (Abbi). I appreciate you so and you make my dash so happy xx

Of foam-moustached kisses, and button combinations

For all your sweet domestic buddie needs this is the fic. Eddie is practicing a video game to get better than Chris and Buck makes fun of his ex-technophobe boyfriend. 

Also THIS EDIT SET to the lyrics of You’re All That I Have by Snow Patrol make me assdffgghjjklkll

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@lilbuddie Okay, this one is just a brag because Minja doesn’t actually have any fics published yet (side eye) but I wanna make sure she is on everyone’s radar for when she does because yall are not ready for the incredible amazing talent that is this girl’s writing!! So go check out the snippets on her Tumblr and badger her until she finishes something plssssss

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@wheelsupin-five Hi! <3

Almost Almost Almost

This adorable of Buck who is always cold and Eddie warms him up I– asfffghhjkklllll

Under Kitchen Light

SO SOFT! Buck wakes up and Eddie isn't there, Buck finds him in the kitchen. 

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@rogerzsteven Simi owns my heart and by that I mean my heart is locked in a cage in Simi’s basement where it is occasionally beaten to a pulp by the most incredibly angsty fics you've ever read.

Cleanse

Buck is extremely nauseous and Eddie takes care of him while I sob over them in a corner.

build me a home underground (free from light and sound)

This fic is so brutal in all the best ways, my heart was in my throat the entire read! Buck gets trapped in a sensory deprivation room while the 118 and Athena race to find him. 

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@ashavahishta another incredibly talented mutual of mine

out of ashes

Is it really a Meegs rec list if I don’t rec this fic honestly it's engraved on my soul. This is a criminal minds/greys inspired fic where Buck is kidnapped and tortured until the 118 can find him. This fic is so so well written and means a million things to me I could never explain but pleaseeeee read it!! 

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@jobairdxx hello lovely xx

Oh, We Pray to Make it Through the Night

Highly recommend this fic, I do love a near-death experience fic! Buck gets injured on a call and Eddie falls asleep holding vigil at his bedside. 

Jules also writes beautiful poetry on Tumblr so go read some of that too <3

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@monsterrae1 MISS RAE! YOU INCREDIBLE THING! <3

love is on its way

I know we’re all a little bit in mourning over the couch theory but it lives on in our hearts and in this fic which has six moments between Buck and Eddie on the Diaz couch (and she’s a wee bit spicy too).

Buck's café (take my heart, just not my order)

Coffee Shop AU. Buck runs the shop where the 118 order all their drinks on shift. I absolutely adore this fic! 

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@alyxmastershipper RYAN!! INCREDIBLY TALENTED MUTUAL THAT YOU ARE!! 

there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

If “aasdsdfghhjkl” was a person it was me reading this fic. Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.

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@bekkachaos Wonderful, amazing Bekka xxx

lose yourself in the feeling

I am a sucker for ‘accidental kisses’ and this was just wonderful. Buck is so excited about Maddie and Chim getting engaged that he kisses Eddie when he tells him. 

start me up, open my eyes

Okay, the mild sexual content tag is a lie, nothing has ever been closer to smut without actually being smut than this fic, I have never been so wound up reading a fic. Bekka builds the tension so so well. 

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@sibylsleaves honestly I'm still a little in shock that we're mutuals now so please excuse me while I fangirl over your incredible writing!

with a bird at your door

Eddie starts spending all his time with Buck. Which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that Buck is in love with him. This fic is the perfect mixture of pining, angst, and a happy ending. And yes I think about this fic frequently I love it okay. 

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@mysteriouslyyounggalaxy last but certainly not least (for now). hello lovely xx

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two

Missing scenes from while eddie is trapped in the well followed by the most perfect extended reunion scene. We all know I am a sucker for fics based on the well incident, it’s literally how i started writing for buddie but omg this fic!!!! 

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Remember to share the love around and happy hiatus to you all.

Love, Meegs xxxx

[dimpledcherry]

would you write eddie munson x fem!reader smut?

where eddie’s chilling in his girls‘s room, bored because she’s taking a shower. he’s kinda snoopin’ around & finds a pastel pink book. he’s curious & starts reading it, realizing it’s her diary. he skips to the last page, dated just a few days ago. his eyes widen, not believing what he’s reading about his innocent girl.

sure they had sex. and not that vanilla, too. but he would’ve never thought his girl had thoughts like that. on this very page, his girl wrote her hidden fantasies. things she never even thought of telling eddie, too embarrassed. she’s talking about how she wants to call eddie „daddy“, or be choked, be humiliated to the brim, be filled by his cum till he’s dry, want him to be in complete control. she wants to be fully submitted to him.

before he can put the diary away she comes out of the bathroom, catching him. he confronts her & she tells him how embarrassed she is etc. they talk it out & he reversals that some of the stuff she likes he likes too. then they make out & they try out some of the stuff.

Oh my god you're an evil genius, time I put my 4 years of journaling to good use! - also ive been working on this all week and the 'h' key on my keyboard keeps getting stuck and its making typing no longer fun :/

Written Fantasies

Summary: ^^ the ask Pairing: Eddie x Reader Trigger Warnings: Smut / Embarrassment / hands on throats - no chocking Content Warnings: Diary Reading / blow jobs / impoliteness / shoe frontage / demands / deep throating / reader masturbation

MY EDDIE MASTERLIST BABY!!!!!!!

The space was as recognisable as the back of his hand, and as comforting as his denim vest: lightly coloured walls, cabinets around the room, shelves and counter tops filled trinkets and lifes memorabilia: photos of events, pretty candles, books, small trinkets of days out, wrist bands and broken watches that simply just meant too much.

Things changed every time he entered this space: photos changed frames, boxes gained new records, the cassette piles grew, and the books changed order.

Eddie clocked - while laying on your bed waiting for you to come back from your shower - that not only had the books changed but new ones were added. when he sat up to take a better look: there were 4 books, all identical sat up together leaning on a pile of published books.

The 4 were pink, all the same size, some slightly thicker, one especially thinner. All with individual dates written into their spines: 1983, 1984,1985, 1986. He weren't no idiot, his brain sorted that they were diaries.

He felt a twinge of pride for you to have the left out on display - almost like trophies, proud of your past. He knew a lot about you but you'd seemed to have never told him you wrote a diary. Eddie knew it was standard procedure you don't read people diary: just as you don't snoop in artists sketch books or dungeon masters binders. But who would he be kidding if he said he didn't wanna read it.

He thought a moment, concentrating and recognising the shower was still running. He didn't have to think too much, the boy was running on curiosity alone. Sat up on the edge of your bed, he leant over and pulled 1986 into his hands.

It started with him just flicking the pages: most of it empty; a few loose sheets tucked into the back; a pen clipped to the elastic closer. The filled side of the book was set out meticulously: a yearly planner already almost filled with exams, cheer practice, birthdays, appointments, dates with Eddie, every Tuesday marked with Hideout at 7, every odd Friday marked Hellfire!.

There was this warmness in his heart, knowing his life was just as important to you as it was for him. He believed every I love you, but know he understood every I love you.

He flicked through the book more: budget planners, goal pages, period trackers, and the body. Filled with your typical too-curly-to-read handwriting, every page filled line for line. Some sitting half empty signifying the end of an entry.

Eddie couldn't possibly understand what you had to write about for long that you wouldn't just tell him or your friends.

He found the dog eared page, the scruffily written date marking yesterday. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a little giddy. He knew he shouldn't but he really couldn't stop himself.

As he read down the page: a recall of your date to the record store and diner, small notes of your gushing over Eddie's chivalry (he always thought holding doors open and little pet names were usual things), a detailed explanation of his outfit and how you loved it (he read that a few times, remember to wear his little thigh harness around you more often.). And as he continued to read, the writting felt less confident, as though there as a topic waited to be hinted at.

He skipped over to the next page and down it, finding a few words grabbing his eyes: touch myself, embarrassing, chocked, him, daddy.

His eyebrows rested in his hairline, eyes almost leaving his skull, the warmth on his checks wasn't imagined. He jumped back a few lines:

Jesus I feel 14 again. I dont know why he does this to me. I see him everyday, and yet im still pinning over him like he's some untouchable deity.

He reads down

We have sex so much but like every night I end up touching myself thinking about- its so embarrassing! I feel like ive been poisoned!! literally none of my friends are like this about their boyfriends!

yeah we all talk about sex but they all have usual sex and normal fantasies but like I feel like a deviant. if I ever told anyone what I really want they'd all look at me so weird

but if I think about sex with him about him all I can think of is his hands and his lips and his voice! and if Im actually honest with myself, all I want is him. I cant stop. ive got into this habit of thinking about him before I go to bed and like every night I touch myself to him.

literally seem like I cant just have him- and I so can but I want so much more!

like if I really thought about it: I'd love him to just use me, do whatever. He could fuck me, make me fuck him, cum in me, chock me, spit on me and I'd be so fucking happy!

Or like, my brain keeps thinking to what if we're fucking and someone hears or we're almost gonna get caught and it turns me on so much! I feel like a pervert.

Eddie felt himself hold his breath.. he was no prude, under his bed was riddled with lost porn mags, he know a lot about kinks and fetishes but something about hearing from you - sweet, quite, calm you- shit! He was getting all flustered.

And like also! keep calling him Daddy in my mind too - I dont know where thats come from but it feels so right! I just really want him to just have his way with me. I dont know how on earth I tell him this. this is so embarrassing.

Eddie was transfixed by your confessions: the sound of the water had slipped his ears. Let alone, he hadn't heard the floor creak and wind chance as you entered the room.

"Jesus babe! You scared me- can't make a guy jump like that!" He yelped, the towel hitting the bed making him jump back into real time.

You laughed at him at first... until your eyes danced around him... and what he had in his hand. You didnt need to ask to know. And almost instantly you felt your body tense, mind go blank and cheek redden. Hands sat in on each other, lips rolled in, eye popping out almost. "Um-"

Confident as ever, he laid back into your pillows, straightening out his legs, "Didn't know you thought like this, Sweetheart.." He started reading, "Kinda want him to fill me until hes dry-"

You leapt onto him - to be honest the word doesn't cut it. You practically jumped on him, trying to grab the book from him but he was swift... dodging your hands artfully as he continued reading. His light and teasing voice was harmonised by your loud commands for him to stop. The room had laughter too: Yours was embarrassment and his was humour.

After a particularly wobbly Eddie! he put the book down, giving you a perfect moment to sling it back onto your cabnit. "Please stop." You frowned.

"Awe sorry baby," He laughed, pulling you down for a cuddle, "It's really hot though." You whined, "It is! Fuck babe," He sighed, "I really didn't think you'd wanna do anything like that!" It surpassed you how he had this ability to never be ashamed or embarrassed about anything. He dipped his head into your neck, "Like being chocked, filled with my cum. fuck, even messy..."

"Shut up!" You leant up, hands flying to his face, coving his mouth and you were straddled to his hips. "I can't believe you- I'm so embarassed!"

"Why?" Earnest and lovie as he moved your hands down.

"You were never meant to find out..."

"Why, you know im into anything?"

"Embarassing."

"No its not."

"yes, it is."

"You know," he started rubbing your thighs, "I'd love to fuck you dumb, fill you up, have you all messy-"

Now you'd be lying if you said he wasn't affecting you- you were embarrassed but so secretly turned on. Your tummy tensed, the blood went to your head, your thighs stiffened. But still your embarrassment was bigger, "Stop making fun of me!"

"Baby baby baby" He cooed, pulling your hands from your face, "I promise i'm really not."

You whined at him, he mimicked you back, pulling you down for a delicate honest kiss. It was deep and slow, him offering his truth to you. And who wouldn't melt into that? His hands now found your hip and your neck, in to your lips his mumbled "Roll over."

You gasp as he rearranges you both, your back now to the bed, "Wanna try something." He sat up continuing, "We can't your little sexual fantasies now-" You squirm in embarrassment, "But" He began stroking your cheek in efforts to pull you out your head. "I wanna try something new.""

He leant down planting a sweet kiss to your lips though you tried to chase him for a second, he was already moving down into your neck, planting even sweeter ones there. You could never stay quiet for his sightly chapped lips and heavy hands - small mewls slipped from you. "Good girl." Quiet, practically breathed from Eddie.

"We can't try the public-people-home stuff, but" another neck kiss, "I do.." another kiss to the other side, "really like the idea" a kiss under your ear, "of having you fully submitted" a kiss to the shell of your ear "to me"

The way you gasp makes Eddie sure he's hit gold with you. As he talks, your hand in his hair pulls and squeezes more, "How about," He moves along to kiss your cheek, "I get you on your knees" Another kiss, "no pillow, because desperate whores don't deserve kind treatment." A light kiss to your lips, "And I let you blow me?" Another kiss, "But" Kiss "I'll be holding your head," He was now resting on his forearms, fingers lost in your hair, "Pushing and pulling you exactly how I want?" Another light kiss met with a hearty pull of your hair, "Fill that little mouth up with my cum."

God you were in heaven - how did you manage to get a boy like him. All you felt you could do was nod at him. A tap of your thigh and you were on the floor kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Looking up at him, the shy coy expression fell naturally on you, "Pretty girl, aren't you?" He complimented. "Get on with it then." It was like a switch was flipped.

Excitedly, you get his belt and jeans off. His dick was hard and pretty as ever - not too big but a little wide, a more red tint than the rest of him already bleeding pre cum.

You got personal with it, licking the beed off, replacing it with a kiss. Eddie couldn't help the sigh - you ruin him on the daily no matter what you do. You could get lost playing with his head. He helped by tucking your hair behind your ears, keeping his hands on your lower head and jaw.

The kisses turn into kitten licks met with you looking up at him, his spaced out satisfied look made you smile, "Shit- open your mouth for me."

Sat up a bit more, the head of is cock resting on your lower lip, palms lost behind his calves: you were ready to try something you never thought you'd get to. The hands in your hair pushing you down slowly, and pulled you back up even more delicately - he giving both of you the space to gauge how yous felt.

"Suck it a bit harder" You did. "fuck-you love this, don't you?" You nod.

It was really all he needed - he didn't even need verbal confirmation, just the feel of your nails in the backs of his legs and how your eyes were rolled back and closing was enough, not to mentions the light noises in your throat. He pushed you down with more force, hands now cupping your cheeks and jaw.

He didn't make you deep throat him - neither of you needed to go that far at the moment. The half of his dick that was still straining your jaw send your brains both tumbling.

Eddie yanked you off him with a rough tug to your hair pulling a throat whine out of you, "Shit babe- you're a little slut aren't you?"

You nodded dumbly, "For you- love you."

"I love you too," A thumb stroked your cheek, "Daddy loves you."

Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was the humiliating reminder he had read you diary. Maybe it was the whispering in the empty quiet house. Maybe it was just him. But you were sure he'd just written you off to hell. You felt a beed of slick drop from your cunt.

And Eddie practically felt it too: he could see the haze covering your pretty eyes and the cheeky smile that covered your face.

A thumb toyed with your lip, he continued, "Gotta get you a little collar with my name on it." And with that you basically purred at him. Eddie was sure he was lost in you as you started to barely suck his thumb.

He'd never had you so spaced and floaty. Sure you've both spoken through sex before but nothing like this, nothing so painfully skilled in what the other actually needs to hear. Sex had never felt so possessive until right now.

The sight of you both was like it was from a porno: you, puffy lipped, half lidded eyes and big breaths; Eddie, pointed look, panting, loved up eyes.

The other hand dropped from your cheek and sat around your neck back - the pressure alone made your eyes flutter - and the sight went straight to his dick.

He popped his thumb out your mouth and brung you up for a dirty, messy, deep kiss. No coordination, just lust. Teeth smacking teeth, uncomfortable postures, hands gripping and clawing where ever they could.

He pulled away, standing up as if to leave. But you whine is stopped when you see he leant against your cabinet. Very idolly, he picked up the diary searching for the place he left off on, commanding a "Come here" using his fingers to make a curling motion, not even bothering to look up at you. "Crawl" He sneers almost as you go to get up.

Granted the space wasn't so big so the crawl was more of an awkward on-you-knees- shuffle but boy did that embarrassment climb back up inside you. If this was with anyone else, the pang of embarrassment woulda been too much, but something in Eddies low murmured tone did something totally new to you. "You're a good little pet, aren't you?"

His eyes never left the book in front of him: flicking through pages, scanning for the right sentence. He began reading off again. Completely as though it was the Sunday news paper and not your kinkiest secret fantasies.

"Eddie stop-"

"You know thats not my name." Eyes still in the book, tone stern and cold. You positioned on your claves between his legs, just waiting. "Thought you liked this? I know this isn't as good as being caught but its pretty close, right?" Finally he looks over.

The sudden feeling of something under you made you squirm, "Go on," He continued, "Get yourself off while I read your silly little diary."

The feeling that swelled in your belly was indescribable. It was overwhelming, unignorable and life changing. Like a duckling to its mother, you blindly listened: beginning to slowly rub yourself on the top of his foot.

"Suck my cock too, Sweetheart." He completely disregards you, finally finding his place on the pages. But he didn't start reading until he could feel your lips kiss his cock head.

You try to loose yourself in kissing him and the weight on your tongue but the perching reminder of what he is reading keeps pulling you out. The blood in your ears and the cotton in your brain were getting thicker.

You felt a ring or two pull on the strands of your hair, your gasps causing you to suck his in harder. You felt the rings apply more of a push at certain points of Eddies reading.

It's all sort of too dirty to really feel like its real life. Nobody really experiences this stuff right? Like it's all just movie magic? Clearly not. Clearly somehow you'd hit the jackpot. Somehow in small little irrelevant Hawkins in the mid 80s, you'd met the jack pot.

The sound of a book hitting a surface pulls you from your slack, readjusting yourself back to the present, you felt two hands play with your hair with more intent.

"Fuck-you sure know how to suck a dick, don't you?" He tucked some behind your ear, making you look up at him "Who taught you that?"

"You-da-daddy." Jumbled delivery thanks to the cock in your mouth.

"Sorry couldn't hear you."

"da-daddy" You tried, but sadly coming out more like 'dabby' thanks to the 5 inch obstruction in your throat.

The palms by your ears tighten, "good" It was almost like an extended sigh, "You gonna take it? Tap me if it's too much, yah?" Serious and caring, you nod.

"Yes" You respond to the eyebrow raise, "Yes daddy."

"Good little thing, aren't you?" Another tuck of your hair, and he pulled your head back in opposition to his hips going forward. He was using you clearlessly, not yet pushing you down as deep as he could, but rather just enjoying your lightness.

The room enters a soundtrack of hisses and hums, some slurps and some groans.

"I told you to get yourself off." It wasn't rude but you felt like you were being told off. Your heart pinged in your chest.

It was annoying how good it felt. Yes your knees stung and the carpet has turned into staples but who cared. The hands behind your ears making you deep throat him were heaven, the foot under your clit was heaven, Eddies musky smell was heaven.

Hums and hisses turned into the sound of fabric rubbing and small 'fuck's and 'shit's. And at this rate the streams of dribble coming off your chin and too the floor was definitely anything but disgusting.

Looking up at him and seeing him looking down, heaven too. "Gonna cum in your mouth." You really couldn't help the whorish whine. "Don't swallow it."

Something about that single demand got you were you needed it too. The swelling between your legs seemed to his its peak, the sheen of sweat tripped and your body felt like it was burning. Finger burring into his thighs, tummy tensed: you came over his foot, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

Eddie using this as the perfect moment to use you. Seeing a moment where you'd given him your everything, he gripped you harder and thrusted deeply into your throat.

Still in your post orgasm haze, the 2 boney hands drag you up by your arm pits, a leg helps keep you stood. "Open." You couldn't even see him at the moment, but you knew behind the black was a man staring at you with all his love.

So you did as he told. Mouth open, cum threatening to spill, "Good, swallow." There was a hand to your throat, and them butterflies danced again. And then there was a light press to your lips that helps bring your eyes back open.

Neither of you could help getting lost a bit in the other - this was a big step, a big new, a good thing too! Eddie broke your moment off and tucked you into his chest, coddling you.

"I love you"

"I-love- you too"

He laughed at your breathiness. "Can we have an actual conversation about this now"

"Gimme a minute- I think my brains all mush."

He laughed again and gave a kiss to your hair.

[bby-bo]

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it 

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on. 

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school.  You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again. 

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building. 

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??” 

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here. 

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him. 

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again. 

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it. 

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business. 

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now. 

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise” 

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in. 

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage. 

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.” 

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”. 

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling. 

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!” 

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question” 

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you. 

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.” 

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this. 

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair. 

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all. 

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist. 

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless.  There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note. 

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.” 

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

[colubrina]

How I Got My Agent, Take Two

I’m so ridiculously over the top happy to say I’ve signed with a literary agent to sell my magical bookbinder book.  This has been a long process that started in 2017, and I’m genuinely overjoyed.

It played out thus:

Write book one.

Write book two. Query the book.

Write book three. Query the book.

Write book four. Get into Pitch Wars with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book five. Get into Author Mentor Match with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book six.

Write book seven.

Write book eight.

Write book nine.

Get a Revise and Resubmit offer from an agent for book five. Do it.

Start querying book six.

Get an offer from the R&R (Yay!)

Write book ten.

Book five dies on submission.

Start writing book eleven.

My agent and I amicably part ways.

Start writing book twelve.

Finish querying book six.

Query book ten.

Start writing book thirteen.

Go back to book eleven.

Go to a live pitch event. Pitch book eleven to two agents. Neither likes it. One asks what else I’m working on, and when I do the one sentence pitch for book twelve, says, “I could sell that.”

Pivot to finishing that book.

Query book twelve, sending queries first to four agents who only want queries and who are actively requesting off those queries. Get a 75% request rate. Query is fire. Check.  Unfortunately, every agent rejects when they see the opening pages, which turn out not to be fire.

Revise opening

Resume querying book twelve.  In case you’ve lost count, while this is the twelfth book I’ve written, it’s ‘only’ the seventh I’ve queried.

Finish drafting book thirteen in NaNo. Revise. Send to CPs.

Have existential crisis on a Tuesday. Meltdown on Tumblr. Weep in my living room. All my books have failed.  I do not know how to write a better book.  Maybe I should give up. This turns out to be a very well-timed dark night of the soul within the narrative.

Get two full requests for book twelve on Wednesday.

Get an email telling me one of my short stories has been held for consideration on Thursday.

On Friday get an email that the woman who handles submissions for one of those agents from Wednesday loved the book but she doesn’t think it’s a great fit for the agent I queried.  Would I mind if she forwarded it in-house to a different agent?  In shocking news, I would not mind this. 

On Monday, get an email asking for a call.

On Wednesday, which is Valentine’s Day, have a call with the agent.  She’s lovely in every way, her thoughts on the book are so good, every editorial idea she floats is good. Like, really good.  She is super enthusiastic about repping the book and offers to do so.

There is an etiquette requirement at this point that I tell any agent who has the book that I have an offer on the table and give them two weeks to respond, so I go around nudging all the agents with a full (four people) and several agents who only have a query. Three more agents request fulls. The rejections start trickling in.  People are very sweet and complimentary, and I am deeply, deeply relieved that I never waver from how much I adore the original offering agent.

I sign with her on February 29.

Final stats for Book Twelve (THE ARCHIVE OF THE WORLD):

Total Queries Sent:  39 Requests Before Offer: 8 (20.5% request rate) Request Rate Including Post-Offer Requests: 28.2%

Year I Started this Nonsense:  2017 Total Queries Sent across 7 books:  456

Takeaway wisdom:  The query trenches are a soul-mangling machine into which we all keep putting our souls and most of us don’t make it out unmangled.  I am not unmangled. BUT, I am a persistence hunter, and I will walk steadily towards publishing until it lies down in exhaustion and gives up.

Thanks for hanging out with me as I do.

Also, this book is so much fun.  You’re going to love it.

[lorelaiblair]

It all started with a phone call. Wednesday swore that modern technology would be the downfall of humanity.

“Wednesday” The boy pleaded.

“Eugene” She countered.

“I haven’t seen you in months, and you’re coming to the city anyway” He explained, for nearly the tenth time.

“I can afford a hotel room”

“I am well aware” Eugene laughed “What kind of a person would I be if I let my sister sleep alone in a hotel, especially when I have an apartment with a guest room barely five miles away from your publisher”

“Don’t imply that I cannot handle myself”

“I know that you can, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you here with me”

“I would be there for quite a while, the editing process for this book is proving to be tedious”

“I’d love to have you, for as long as you want to stay”

“I will arrive Tuesday”

“Really?” Eugene asked, the excitement obvious in his voice. He was met with the dial tone, the conversation apparently over.

Two days later, he woke up to his alarm. He showered, brushed his teeth, and was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast when he realized something had changed. He went to make himself some coffee, and there was already half of a fresh pot.

Was someone in his apartment?

He was tired. He was too tired to care all that much. He poured himself a cup and sat back down.

It only took a couple moments for Wednesday to join him in the kitchen.

“Where do you keep your sewing kit?” She asked

“Junk drawer” He told her, pointing despite the fact that she already knew which one it was, despite knowing that she would be angry at its disarray considering she had been the one to organize it for him the last time. She pulled the kit out and tsked at him, before wandering back to her room.

Eugene took a sip of his warm drink before blinking in surprise.

“Wednesday?” He yelled

“Yes, Eugene?”

“When did you get here?”

“About two hours ago” She explained, he climbed out of his chair to walk down the hallway and stand in the doorway of her room. She was using his sewing kit to reattach one of Thing’s fingers.

“I would ask how you got in but” He laughed to himself “I’ll get a key made for you on my way home from work”

“Alright”

“What happened to Thing?”

“He fell out of the plane” Wednesday told him.

“What?” Eugene blanched. “What do you mean he fell out of the plane, is he okay?”

Thing wiggled his remaining fingers to tell the boy yes, he was fine.

“Just pulled a few stitches” Wednesday explained “My first meeting with the editor is later today, although I will probably be back before you are”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight” Eugene said, turning to head out “Oh yeah, i’m off tomorrow and a few friends from nevermore are coming over for lunch”

“Eugene” She complained

“You don’t have to socialize, I swear. This door comes with a perfect little lock on it” He grinned, as if it could counter Wednesday’s death glare.

Eugene’s friends had arrived nearly twenty minutes ago, and Wednesday was facing a bit of a conundrum.

She had been up all night writing. Her editor left her with so many notes that she considered stabbing him in the eye with his own red ink pen, which had marked and marked all over Wednesday's first draft.

Not to mention her publisher wanted it all completed in less than a week.

She really had her work cut out for her. Wednesday was completely capable, she would get it done with time to spare, but what she really, really needed was another cup of coffee. Coffee. Coffee, her savior. Coffee, which was in the kitchen. Eugene and his group of very loud friends, sat in the dining room, nothing but a single door separating them.

She would send Thing to do it, but the last time she had asked him he had spilled scalding hot coffee all over himself. Now he refused to help her with the specific conquest.

She exited her room and stalked down the small hallway. Wednesday cursed herself, for knowing what she would be getting into when agreeing to spend the next few months with Eugene, and agreeing nonetheless. This was a torture of her own making.

As Wednesday scooped spoonfuls of coffee into a filter she could hear the people in the other room laughing. She turned the pot on and sat at the small table Eugene kept in his kitchen.

Wednesday’s publisher had gone on and on about how her book needed ‘character’, said that it wasn’t at all personable. She absolutely detested that. The book was full of character, she had been writing about Viper and her adventures for years now, and not once had a person mentioned a ‘lack of character’.

It was frustrating.

Wednesday knew that the publisher was onto something.

Wednesday had been writing Viper for years, and the stories she wrote were becoming almost predictable. She hated it. She absolutely despised it all.

She needed to change something, but she had no idea what that something was.

The door into the kitchen swung open, and Wednesday cursed herself once again. She had no energy for any of the ‘friends’ Eugene had invited over. It didn’t help that her eyes were assaulted the second the girl walked through the door.

Blonde hair with pink and blue ends, and an entire pink ensemble. Brilliant blue eyes, a shiny and slightly too sharp to be human smile.

“Uh, hi?” The bright girl asked, a sheepish smile on her pretty face.

Wednesday raised her eyebrows at the girl.

“Who are you?” She asked, turning to look back into the dinning room as if making sure she didn’t accidentally step into somebody else’s apartment. Wednesday leaned back in her chair, watching her.

The girl’s blue eyes met Wednesday’s again.

Wednesday Addams needed to change something, in her book and in her life, and she knew now what that thing was.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: Wormdebut! Wormdebut has published 18 fics on AO3 all in the steddie tag!

@thefreakandthehair recommends the following works by @wormdebut:

Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy With His Hair Pushed Back

Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face)

Hell Bent For Leather

All You Have Is Your Fire

It Feels Like Fourteen Carats But No Clarity (When I Look At The Man Who Would Be King)

Worm is incredible! For a humble worm, they sure know how to write fanfiction. ;) But seriously, Worm has a way of exploring different dynamics in such depth with an immense amount of care that's so obvious in the finish products! -- @thefreakandthehair

Below the cut, Wormdebut answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

These two idiots inspire me. I mean look at them. I think the thing I love about Steve and Eddie is that to me they are destined to be together. Post-Canon, Alternate Universe. It doesn’t matter. They are meant to be together in any scenario. I could and will write about these two forever.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Rockstar Eddie, baby. I love some good sex, drugs and rock and roll.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Is safe (mostly)sane and consensual BDSM a trope? I like to write that. 😂

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Tuesday’s Gone With The Wind - Thisapplepielife there is nothing quite like reading this for the first time. I truly thought I was going to explode as it was being updated.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Omegaverse! I have a fic in the worm vault that will come out eventually. Wormegaverse. It’s coming. I’m fucking stoked for it.

What is your writing process like?

Hoooboy. It’s a mess. I cannot write an outline to save my life. (I’m looking at you King of Hell Eddie fic. I know you need an outline okay?) I tend to write in order, but if I get stuck I will skip a scene or two ahead so I can figure out how to squish two pieces of a story together OR I will write little notes about my intentions and skip it and come back. (My favorite note of all time is when I wrote “spit kink shit.” So I could remember my very pure intentions)

Do you have any writing quirks?

Boy do I! I tend to go into like writing fugue states where I will just bust out thousands of words in a sitting and if I am not doing that I am thinking and over thinking about when im gonna fugue out again. I also get really stressed when it actually comes time to write a sex scene? Weird, I know. But every single one is super important to me and I want to make sure they read well. My friends can attest that I am an absolute basket case when it comes to me writing Steve and Eddie getting down and dirty.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

God when I’m done. I am NOT great at posting chaptered fics but I am trying to get better with it? I prefer writing larger pieces though. I am an over-thinker to a fault and for some reason I stress less with one-shots.

Which fic are you most proud of?

It’s gotta be Kiss Your Knuckles. That fic is everything to me. But my Boys Who Kiss series is also so fucking important to me. Those two have so much more to tell y’all and I can’t wait to share their lives with you. I’m a musician so any of my fics that are heavily laced with performance and song are very special.

How did you get the idea for Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face)?

I remember listening to Twin Size Mattress one day and I was like—Holy Shit, this is so Steddie-Coded it hurts. And it’s post-canon AND Rockstar Eddie? Incredible. The words just screamed Eddie Behavior and I knew Steve had to write a one-hit wonder about how he felt.

When writing Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face), what was something you didn’t expect?

Oh I sobbed when I finished it. I couldn’t believe that I had actually finished it. It truly means the world to me and I wanted to share it with you all so badly. I cried for like an hour.

What inspired It Feels Like Fourteen Carats But No Clarity (When I Look At The Man Who Would Be King)?

Honestly? Tumblr user @ghosttotheparty had made a post about the scenario that Fourteen Carats is about and I messaged them and was like hey listen I want to take a shot at this, if that’s okay. Fourteen Carats is the first fully formed fic that I have ever posted aside from tumblr Drabbles and while I personally don’t love it I keep it up just in case someone somewhere does. 😂

What was your favorite part to write from All You Have Is Your Fire?

OH. Absolutely just eluding to Tattoo Legend and Icon, Jim Hopper. God he so fucking hot neat.

How do/did you feel writing Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy With His Hair Pushed Back?

I felt some type of a way, clearly. I think this is my favorite Eddie that I have ever written (My favorite Steve is Kiss Your Knuckles Steve) and he just kept getting more and more interesting. Like who the hell fucks you and speaks French while they do it? Tell Eddie Eddie does. And thank god for that guy.

What was the most difficult part of writing Hellbent For Leather?

Writing sub/bottom Eddie! I did this fic as a gift for tumblr user @gorgeousgreymatter-x (love you bitch) and it was hard because I don’t often write that dynamic, but god damn I loved these two Steddies.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Ah— “It is, and I do.” Something about French chef Eddie, really—yeah. I am proud of everything I have written but if I can be honest with you I rarely remember what I have done. I often joke that it’s simply Steve and Eddie in my brain just writing what they want, because people will quote my work or talk to me about a scene and I’m like—‘I wrote that?? Nice.’

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

WELL. Once I can break myself out of this accidental hiatus I am so excited to share more of For Your Entertainment with yall. I am also so fucking excited to share King Of Hell Eddie with the world. I can’t fucking wait. I am working on a ‘Came Back Wrong’ fic that is less scary and more comedic and I am stoked for that. I have quite a few things that are happening and I am just so fucking excited to share them all with you. 

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just thank you. Thank you for reading and thanks for letting me be a part of all of this. I have not felt this inspired and loved in a long fucking time and I’m not going anywhere so I hope yall will stick around for the wild ride. Fucking love you.

Thank you to our author, Wormdebut, and our nominator, @thefreakandthehair! See more of Wormdebut's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[sailoryooons]

i’m salivating over my first ever haliween ahhhhhhhggggjtjekwldlcjwkwnf. anyways, i trust you implicitly, so i’m gonna do the random thing:

milky way + princess peach + the craft 👁️👄👁️

(ily 🦐)

❀ Pairing: Witch!Yoongi x witch!f. reader

❀ Summary: When the red string of fate appears around your ankle, you have twelve days to find your fated partner or die. That’s how the spell works - that’s how fate has always run Her business. There is one, very inconvenient witch who keeps getting in your way, though, and you might just kill each other before your mark does. 

❀ Word Count: 4,421

❀ Genre: Magical AU, Fate AU, a bit of angst, a bit of crack

❀ Rating: SWF

❀ Warnings: Talk of death!!! Reader thinks that she is going to die this entire fic, so she thinks about dying/makes jokes about dying a lot. At the end of the story, there are moments where she is sad and there are hints of depression because she is dying, but it’s not super intense and heavy. Language, Yoongi, and reader are both very stupid, the communication skills in this friend group are at ZERO. 

❀ Published: Tuesday, October 3

❀ A/N: This is my first request filled for Haliween and I am so excited! This was so much fun to write and honestly, I was super inspired by Jade's ability to infuse humor in writing, so this is absolutely an ode to Jade. Inside my Halloween bag for you is… Yoongi, witches, and fate! This actually might be one of my favorite drabbles I’ve written all year if not all the time and I sort of wish this was a full one-shot with angst but I think it works sooo well this way. UNEDITED.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests |

It’s raining the day that the red string of fate scorches your ankle. The pain is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, sending you to your knees as you scream. At first, Jimin thinks you’re dying. He drops his mug of tea, rushing over to you as the porcelain shatters, dropping to the ground to pull you up by the shoulders.

You’re prone for a moment, eyes rolled back, voice straining as your entire body tenses, hellfire licking through you. 

Then it’s gone. Like it never happened. 

The mark leaves you panting in Jimin’s arms, whimpering lightly as you pull the leg of your jeans up with trembling hands to reveal a singular scarlet circle around your ankle. The mark tingles, leaving behind the memory of sudden pain, now cool to the touch. 

“Holy shit,” Jimin whispers, staring at the mark. His eyes are wide when he looks down at you, lips trembling. “Twelve days.”

Twelve days. Twelve entire days to untangle you’re new fate and follow it to the witch meant for you, your other half. Twelve days to find them and meet your magical half. To be whole again.

Because in the world of witches, there are some of you born not complete. Some of you have another soul out there, burning with some of your magic. And when that magic is ready to become one, it tries to kill you.

Twelve days to reunite it.

Or, twelve days until you die. 

DAY ONE

The day is a waste. Impeding doom does not inspire confidence in the probability of finding the witch who is supposed to be your other half. Hoseok offers a tarot spread, flipping cards and trying to untangle the path that will lead to your savior. 

He frowns as he looks at his deck. The images and text on them are nearly faded entirely, a heirloom of his coven passed down through generations of family members. Hoseok knows them by touch, feel, and energy alone. Could read them in the dark, if he wanted to.

Hoseok glances up where you’re curled on the couch in a blanket, doing little spell work to figure out where your mystery half is. “Perhaps you should have Namjoon read tea leaves instead,” he offers. Hoseok shuffles the deck and puts it back in a wooden box. “The cards want you to figure it out yourself. Tea is less judgmental, perhaps.”

DAY TWO

Tea is not less judgmental. You stamp out of the tea shop, feeling stormy, energy crackling like lightning. Namjoon, unable to help, mentioned that perhaps you should seek help from Jungkook, who often sees the future in his drawings. It’s what led him to Jimin, after all. 

Someone crashes into you, knocking you off balance. You yell as you go, too lost in thought to catch yourself with magic before you’re topping into the street and a puddle. Cursing, you look up at the stranger who has knocked you into a dirty hole filled with water.

“Are you serious?” you demand, gesturing to your legs as water seeps in. “Watch where you’re going!” 

The man in front of you is covered in coffee. He looks up at you dripping in dark liquid, the front of his white shirt ruined and sticking to his chest. If you weren’t so impossibly angry, you might think he was cute. Long, black hair tucked behind his ears, keen feline eyes, a rosy mouth in a natural pout. 

But you don’t think it’s cute. Especially when he says, “Me? You’re on the wrong side of the sidewalk!”

“There are no sides to the sidewalk!”

“Of course there is! If you’re walking north you should walk on the inside of the sidewalk, if you’re walking south, you should walk on the outside!”

“That makes no fucking sense!”

“Says the girl still sitting in a puddle instead of getting up and drying herself off!”

You make an angry sound, shoving yourself up from the puddle, sopping wet. “Have the day you deserve,” you snarl at him. 

“Have fun with your wet pants.”

DAY THREE

Day three is spent at the library looking up ways to break the red string of fate around your ankle. There are tombs and tombs of ancient texts on the various iterations of the spell through different cultures and religions, but so far you have nothing to show for it. 

Huffing and tossing another useless book onto your useless pile, you walk back to the dark stacks of the magical section of the library reserved for members of the covens in the city. It smells musty and dusty in the back, the air dank with the promise of rot. You make a mental note to tell Jisung at the front to please use an air freshening spell. 

As you turn the corner of the shelves, someone makes you pull up short. The man from the day before is in front of you, flipping through a book. You blink in surprise. A witch. It shouldn’t surprise you - most of the townsfolk here are magic in one way or another. But it makes less sense that he was so angry about spilling his coffee when he could just whisk his fingers in the air and put it back in the cup. 

You’re angry all over again, balling your fists in the aisle. You have half a mind to flick your fingers and through a book from the shelf at him, but the tome in his hands makes you pause. It’s the book you’re looking for. 

The man snaps it shut and tucks it under his arm, continuing to look through the shelves.

“Um, where are you taking that?” 

He turns with a soft expression, eyes wide. Then he sees you and immediately scowls, nose scrunching. “Oh. You. If you came here for new pants, the Target is across the street.” 

“I’m looking for that book.” 

“Well, this book is coming with me.” 

“What do you need it for, huh?”

His face is impassive as he blinks twice. “For a bonfire, thank you.”

With that, he spins on his heel and walks down the aisle. You step after him, but he snaps and you feel a sharp tug in your stomach, like a pull in another direction. You blink and suddenly find yourself several aisles over, making you scream in anger.

“Did you just teleport me?!”

DAY FOUR

Spent listening to Hey Jude on repeat. And dumplings. So many dumplings that you may not make it to day twelve. 

DAY FIVE 

What a good day. You’ve made no progress, but you head home with a smile on your face nonetheless. Even though you will surely expire when the red string of fate eats you from the ankle up in seven days, you have at least one good memory before your untimely demise. 

Autumn hangs cooly in the air. Your scarf is wrapped snuggly around your neck as you skip home, fresh on the memory of the Puddle Pusher’s face when you bought the last of the black flame candles at Shadow’s earlier that day. 

Give me at least one, he’d said to you. You don’t need five.

Well, what if I mess up? You’d asked.

Then you’re a shitty witch.

Well, that had offended you, so you bought the white flame candles too, just in case. Bags full of candles for your little ritual, you skip home to try another trick in breaking the scarlet mark around your ankle. You’re not hopeful but you are happy to rub the salt in with the Puddle Pusher before your sweet farewell to the world.

Even if he did look very cute today. 

DAY SIX

Morale is low. The ritual from the night before utterly failed and set off your sprinkler system in your apartment. As you spend the morning blasting hot gusts of wind from your hands and levitating several items throughout the home to air dry, you wonder what it will be like at the end. 

The red string of fate is such a rare thing. When you were little, you may have thought it was romantic. Knowing there was someone out there for you that was your twin flame, your other half. A person connects to you by the cosmic power of the universe. Whose spellwork with your own could make you unstoppable. 

Now you think it’s stupid. You don’t need anyone else to make you complete. You’ve learned that over several failed relationships and the lackluster dating life of this town. There’s no reason for you to need to follow this stupid mark to find the one person you can no longer live without. 

Love is not worth dying for. If it is even love. You cannot imagine that the magic that flows through the world unseen but felt is so all-seeing and powerful that it knows who you should be with. That it can tell you what to do. 

Day six sucks. And you spend it crying. Alone and forgotten, without your other half. 

DAY SEVEN

Jungkook sifts through his drawings, chewing his lip. The hum of tattoo guns buzzes like a hive of angry bees behind you. You ignore the awful music blaring through the speakers and the man screaming behind the piercing curtain getting his nipples pierced.

“Don’t you have something for that?” you ask, jerking your thumb at the sniveling. “The man sounds like you’re castrating him.”

“Oh, that? Some people like the pain. However, it is Jin so he is actually hating every second of it.” You make a face but Jungkook doesn’t notice, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, dude. I don’t see or feel anything in any of these recent drawings of mine. I wish I could be of better assistance. There’s this guy who might be able to help, though. Taehyung?”

“Tae-who?”

“Here.” Jungkook scribbles an address in truly illegible handwriting. “Visit him on the full moon in..” He looks at his phone and makes a face with yikes written all over it. “Five days.”

“Jungkook, in five days I will be hours away from-” You make a choking sound and roll your eyes back into your head. When you look back at Jungkook, he’s not amused. “Death. Dead. Está muerto.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Not funny.” He shoves the paper in your hand. “Look, he’s a really powerful seer. Just go.”

“Think he can tell me what to wear as I croak?”

Jungkook is still not amused by your jokes. He looks around you as the shop door chimes, lifting a hand. “Hey, Yoongi. Be with you in a second.” He looks back at you. “Have you considered asking around for anyone who has had one show up recently? It might help, you know?” 

“No thanks. Don’t need any weirdos trying to get into my skivvies by lying about it. Thanks, though. I’ll look into this.” You lift the paper. 

Turning around to leave, you stop dead in your tracks. Yoongi is standing near the front entrance of the door. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a flannel shirt, his hair tucked under a beanie. He looks soft, especially when his attention isn’t on you and glowering. 

For a moment, you’re not mad at him and you don’t hate him on principle. You just admire the way his nose is a little bit red from the cold outside, and his general sense of wonder is… innocent. Gentle. Kind. 

When he turns to look at you, as though he feels your staring, his face morphs from cherubic to devilish, curling his lip up at you. Your momentary lapse of judgment vanishes. “Here to get a tattoo of Number One Puddle Pusher?”

“I didn’t push you.”

“Who's to say you didn’t? Do you have CCTV evidence?”

Yoongi scoffs. “I should be checking CCTV to see if you’re stalking me.”

“Me? Stalking you? I got here first.” 

“Do you have CCTV evidence?” he mocks, making a face. 

With a huff, you blow by him, turning to Jungkook who looks between the two of you with wide eyes and a dubious expression. “Make his tattoo ugly.”

DAY EIGHT

Yoongi as it turns out is new in town. Instead of spending day eight doing like Jungkook suggested and putting out an APB on Facebook Marketplaces and Craigs List, you spend it looking up your mysterious mortal enemy only to find that… he’s entirely normal. 

Most of the covens in town have a long history of ancestry connected to the town’s creation. Yoongi seems to have no such thing, having only moved there a year ago. You’ve never come across him, though it seems you have plenty of friends in common.

From his social media, you can tell only two things about him: he likes cats and takes the worst dad pictures. By worst, you mean silly little photographs of things you can only see a father taking. Somehow the angle is always just wrong or the captions are so simple that you find yourself smiling.

And then you remember whose photos you’re looking at and you fix your face with a scowl. 

Tossing your phone onto the couch, you curse Yoongi. The Puddle Pusher. 

DAY NINE

Spent crying. 

DAY TEN

Spent crying even harder. And spent looking at Yoongi’s cat on social media, only to accidentally double tap and scream as you unlike the photo, and throw your phone across the apartment in terror. 

You cry more after. And add buy a new phone on your to-do list. 

DAY ELEVEN

You’re going to die. It’s inevitable. You spend the evening watching the stars with Jimin. You let Jungkook tattoo a smiley face on your foot. You drink lots of hard cider, and you fall asleep in a bed that feels too empty and the knowledge that you’ll no longer have to worry about filling it. 

DAY TWELVE

Taehyung lives in the middle of Fuck All Nowhere. While you might not find that exactly on the map, it is only somewhat easy to find his creepy, draconic estate outside of town. Getting out of your car, you look up at the spiring mansion, sure that you’re going to see bats flying out of the top like an episode of Scooby Doo.

Alas, there are no bats there to greet you in your final few hours. "Where are the bats, dude?" you ask, walking up the lawn.

The house is something out of a creepy cartoon. Old, wooden stairs creek under your feet as you climb them. The front porch has a severe lean, making you take a precarious step toward the massive front door. 

A knocker in the shape of a snarling gargoyle greets you. Tentatively, you reach your hand toward it. Just before your fingers brush the knocker, the door swings inward, creaking and shuttering as it does. You snatch your hand back and take a step away from it, heart racing. 

No one is in the entryway. You stick your head inside, looking at the maximalist disaster that is the interior. There are gauche tapestries all over the walls and exotic, loud wallpaper. Statues, busts, and other carvings cover every surface, and the faint smell of cardamom hangs in the air. 

“Hello?” you call. Your voice seems to echo in the house. 

You hear footsteps. Your heart rate picks up, hoping to see the infamous Taehyung you’ve come for. Except you don’t, feeling confusion first followed by irritation. Of course Yoongi is standing in this strange home that’s full of popping energy and static.

“What are you doing here?” you demand. 

Yoongi frowns. “You’re not Taehyung, right?” 

“No! Do I look like him?”

“I don’t know what he looks like.”

“Well. I’m not.”

Both of you have a silent standoff, staring at the other. Yoongi looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair a little greasy. You feel a momentary pang of sympathy for him, feeling the same sort of restlessness and weariness tugging at your edges. 

“What are you here for, then?” you ask if only to fill the silence stretching between you. “And why are you inside?”

“It’s cold outside. And the house felt like it wanted me to wait inside.”

“Okay. Well.”

He crosses his arms. “I’m here because I’m… looking for something.” 

“Something that requires black flame candles?” 

“No.” He looks you up and down. “What are you here for.”

“Trying to break something.” 

He hums. 

Eventually, you both sit down in the sitting room. Neither of you say anything to the other, sitting in… almost comfortable silence. You sit and stare at the clock on the wall, watching your time slip away. 

Your knee starts pouncing. You take out your phone, spamming Jungkook. Trying to get him to call Taehyung, perhaps. He doesn’t answer, your nerves unsettling your stomach. Eating away at you. 

An hour slips by. Then another. 

Sweat starts to collect on the back of your neck. Each moment the minute hand tick tick ticks, you lose another minute. Another five. Another ten. 

You don’t feel sick or deteriorating, but you know that as it reaches ten at night, you only have two hours left. A collection of 120 minutes for the rest of your life. Barely enough to drive back into town and say goodbye to your friends. To anyone who cares. 

Overwhelmed with the impending sense of doom, you suddenly stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Inside feels insufferable, so full of tension. You need to breathe, to maybe look at the moon for a little. To… feel the wind for the last moment, now that it’s here.

“Where are you going?”

“Outside. I - um. I don’t think he’s coming and I… want to be outside.” 

Yoongi nods. “Mind if I join you?” 

The question is gentle. Soft. Like that time you saw him in Jungkook’s shop, face so gentle and kind, round and soft with wonder and something like hope. It urges you to nod, reserved to not spend the next two hours hating this man who has made the last twelve days of your life annoying.

Instead, you’ll spend it with this man who doesn’t know you, but who has colored the pages of your life for the last two weeks. 

It’s strange. Before that day outside of Namjoon’s shop, you didn’t know who this person was. Now, you know a little bit. Not a lot, but enough. 

There’s a hill behind Taehyung’s house that you walk out to. You both sit on it quietly, looking out at the world. This far out in the country, the stars blanket the sky in a thrilling map of constellations and sparkling lights. It’s beautiful. Nice. 

A general melancholy seems to hang around Yoongi. You don’t know what it is he is looking for, but you sort of hope he finds it in the way that you’ve been unable to. If you have to lose tonight, you think that someone ought to win. 

“What was your favorite moment of your life?” Yoongi asks out of nowhere. You glance at him to see him staring out at the sky, eyes unseeing. His fingers pull at the grass by his shoe, uprooting them absently. “Or something that you just remember being a really good memory?”

You pull your knees to your chest and set your chin atop them, thinking. You’ve had so much time to think this week about your favorite moments or the best parts of your life before it’s gone, and yet, you hadn’t thought too much about it.

“Maybe…” you grin, eyes unfocusing. “The first time I ever listened to Hey Jude. I had never listened to the Beatles and Jimin had it on vinyl and it was one of the last days of summer when we were younger and he put it on… we danced to it and had the coldest lemonade and those red white and blue popsicles. It was right after a breakup and… it was the first time I felt unfettered, reckless joy.” 

You can remember the sweetness of the lemonade, the sticky fingers from the popsicle. The sound of the record, the way it hissed into silence at the end of the track, just the crackling vinyl chasing you out of the end of summer.

Turning to look at Yoongi, you ask, “What about you?” 

“The first time I heard a piano. I was on vacation with my parents but I got lost at the hotel and I found this piano in the lobby. This guy was playing it so I just sat down next to him and listened. It was… I wasn’t afraid anymore, and I just waited there until the front desk told my parents they found me.”

You grin, feeling a sweet curl of joy spreading through you. “Do you play now?” 

“Mhmm. I wish I had played more in the last few weeks. I was … busy.” 

“Hmm. I wish I had done a lot of things recently. Instead, I fixated on something unchangeable.”

Silence falls between you. You check your phone for the time. You realize that there are only fifteen minutes left, your heart clenching painfully. You place the phone face down in the grass, sucking in a deep, shaking breath. 

“You should go,” you murmur gently. He looks up at you, brows raised. “I uh - need to do something that I think should be done alone.” 

He nods. “Me too.” Gets up slowly, dusting off his pants. Yoongi starts to turn away and hesitates, looking down at you. You look up and think that Yoongi might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Soft face against the cosmos, dark eyes that are swirling and unreadable. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He lifts a shoulder. “For being a surprise in my life, I suppose. A change of pace.”

“You too.”

With a little wave of his hand, Yoongi walks down the hill back toward the house. You watch him go until he vanishes around the front and you are left alone, the sound of the crickets around you. 

Turning back to the empty hills, you exhale. In a way, you’re okay. You think that maybe Yoongi is right - he was an unexpected and at times vexing surprise in your life, but it was fun. A least a little. 

Gently, you lay back in the grass. You don’t know if it’s going to hurt when you go, but you want to be lying down just in case. Your hands tremble in the grass and you feel your throat constrict with the urge to cry. Not because you’re alone, not because you’re afraid, but because you think maybe… you should have just enjoyed life a little more than trying to defeat it the last two weeks. 

A lifetime of forcing things into submission and for once, you couldn’t do it. 

The minutes tick by. You try to calm your breathing. There’s no escaping the red string of fate now. Without your other half, you will cease to exist. There is no more road for you.

You think of the sweet taste of lemonade. The chorus of Hey Jude. The breeze coming in through the open door and the scent of the honeysuckle climbing the awning. You smile, feeling a tear slide down your face.

Shutting your eyes, you breathe in deep. You are ready.

DAY THIRTEEN

You frown. You keep breathing. You take in another deep breath, thinking that maybe you just… timed it wrong. Settling in, you keep yourself calm, fingers drumming on the floor. Any second now you’re going to die. The life force will flee your body. You will perish. Ashes and dust and all of that. 

It doesn’t come. You crack an eye open, looking at the starry sky. The stars are still hanging and the moon is still shining. Suddenly you wonder if you’ve already died and this is the afterlife. Would you even know if you were dead?

Sitting up, you grab your phone and look at it. If there are phones in the afterlife, yours shows that it’s past midnight. 

“Huh?” you whisper, tapping the screen. It looks real. Feels real. “Why am I not dead?”

Footsteps behind you make you look over your shoulder. Yoongi is storming up the hill, a look on his face like wonder and fury or something weirdly in between. 

“What were you doing at Namjoon’s shop that day we ran into one another?”

“What?” 

“The shop!” he yells, throwing his hands up, panting as he crests the hill. “What were you doing there?”

“Getting… a fortune read. Sort of.”

“And the library?”

“Researching how to break spells.”

“And Jungkook?” Yoongi’s voice trembles. You don’t follow, but you shrug a shoulder. “Same thing as when I went to Namjoon’s. Trying to use the future to help me find something.”

Yoongi crouches down and reaches for your ankle. You pull it back, yelling, “Hey, hands off, weirdo! I’m not into foot stuff!”

He grabs your jeans and pulls the hem up, despite your kicking. When he reveals the red mark around your ankle, he abruptly sits down and stares at you. You yank your foot from his grip, ripping your jeans back down and glaring. “What gives? Yeah, I have a red string of fate, whatever.” 

Mutely, Yoongi sticks his foot toward you. He has on dirty Converse with gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, and jeans on. “I’m more of a Hubba Bubba myself,” you note, eyeing his foot. “But thanks?”

“My ankle.” 

You sit up straight, heart racing. Yoongi had been going to Namjoon that day. And then at the library. Even visiting Jungkook. And buying items for… breaking a spell at the magic shop. Now, he’s here, for a reason unbeknownst to you. 

And you’re not dead.

You’re not dead. 

Slowly, you reach over Yoongi’s foot. Your fingers are trembling as you grab the soft material of his jeans, fingers weak. Steeling yourself, you pull gently to reveal Yoongi’s ankle. You expect to see creamy, smooth skin, unmarked and well… ordinary. 

Instead, you see a single red ring scarring his skin. A perfect red string of fate marking his skin forever, telling him that he belongs to someone. That someone equally belongs to him. That there is someone out there in the world just as stubborn to accept fate, just as cranky when inconvenienced, and who loves music just as much as you do.

You’re not dead, and Yoongi is looking at you with a smile that holds the world.

You’re not dead, and you share loud, joyful laughter with your red string of fate partner for the first time. 

DAY 20

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, leaning back and self-satisfied. “I saw them finding each other at my house so I just left. Let fate do its thing, ya know?”

You roll your eyes. “Your house is fucking creepy but not in a cool way.”

Yoongi laces his fingers with yours. “Yeah man, where are the damn bats?” 

[cherry-holmes]

RIVER - Javier Peña x f!Reader

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter —

MASTERLIST

Summary: Javi took you to his favorite place on earth: heaven.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3k

Warnings: Angst with happy ending (sad!Javi) Parent loss. | SMUT. Again, there's a lot of plot before the smut😅P in V sex. Unprotected sex. Rough-ish sex. Fingering. Sex in a public place -ish. Breeding kink. Praise kink. Pregnancy talk.

A/N: Hello, Hola! First of all I want to thank all of you for the support you gave me on my first work! Muchas gracias! I been writing for almost ten years now, but I haven't publish anything since my first fanfic on Wattpad in 2017😅

I hope you like this one as much as the first one!

I repeat, I'm not a native English speaker, but I'm a translator student so I hope I'm doing it well!

If you wanna send me a request, my box is open!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Several daily high temperature records were broken Tuesday in Texas, including at Houston Hobby Airport, Corpus Christi, Laredo and Del Rio. Laredo hit 115 degrees, marking its 10th consecutive day of record highs...

Indeed, as the reporter mentioned on the radio, those were incredibly hot summer days. The air was dry and the sun was burner, it drain all your energy.

You tried to be helpful at the Peña's Ranch during your work vacations, but the chores felt like torture. Javier and his father used to spend hours under the unforgiving sun, repairing fences, tending to horses, herding cattle, and dealing with clients looking for meat animals. The life of a ranch owner was undeniably tough but prosperous.

Sunday arrived with the thermometer hitting nearly 115 degrees. When you woke up that morning, you anticipated a challenging day ahead. However, Javier woke up with a plan in mind. He mentioned knowing about a river around 22 kilometers from the ranch were he used to spend all summer with his cousins when he was a child. You hadn't explored much of the city since you'd been living there for five months since your return from Colombia. So, you were excited about the idea of discovering your new home state, and most importantly, having a day off to immerse yourself in nature. He was delighted that you had agreed to the plan and suggested that you wear sportswear for hiking and a swimsuit.

You inquired him if his father would join, but he explained that Don Chucho would attend the morning mass and then spend the rest of the day at his brother's house.

"It's just you and me today, mi vida," he promised, his large hands squeezing your hips as he left soft kisses on your shoulders as you prepared containers with cubes of watermelon and mango seasoned with lemon and chile Tajín.

Javier placed a small cooler in the back of his '94 Dodge Ram and filled it with beers, water, the fruits you had prepared, and some tamales you had bought and had leftover from the night before.

You jumped into the passenger seat, and Javi turned on the radio as the truck roared to life. The sound of cumbias tejanas played softly as you admired the view of Laredo's countryside. The wind blew through your hair, and Javi drummed his fingers on the steering wheel syncing with the rhythm of Bobby Pulido's song. You felt his free hand touch yours, and when you looked at him, he took your knuckles and placed a kiss on them. He briefly took his eyes off the road to gaze into yours and said, "You look so beautiful today."

Your cheeks turned red as you laughed shyly, but you couldn't resist teasing him, "Only today?"

He grinned and replied, "You've always been a beauty, chiquita."

Thirty minutes later, Javier parked the truck in an improvised parking lot used by visitors to the river. You grabbed your backpack, which was packed with clean towels and dry underwear, while Javi carried the cooler and his own backpack. As you followed him through the lush vegetation and the cool water of the river, you welcomed the fresh air and the shade of the trees. Families and groups of young friends, some with dogs and others who appeared to have camped there overnight, were scattered about. But you notice that Javi didn't follow the same path as the rest of the visitors.

Curious, you asked Javi, "Where are we going?"

He grinned and replied, "It's a surprise."

You continued hiking uphill, leaving the main river trail further and further behind. However, you could still hear the gentle rush of the river. The air was filled with the fresh aroma of blooming flowers and damp earth. Butterflies fluttered everywhere, and you spotted squirrels and birds with vibrant-colored feathers.

After thirty minutes of hiking, you began to feel very sweaty and tired, especially in your knees due to the rocky path.

"Javi," you called to him, noticing he was climbing effortlessly. "Javi," you called again, a bit more concerned, "Are we lost?"

"Be patient," he responded, sounding a bit agitated but not as much as you were. "You hear that? We're almost there," he encouraged.

You focused on your surroundings, and you could perceive the sound of a waterfall nearby.

You followed him through the large rock formation, and before you knew it, a lagoon fed by a waterfall appeared in front of you. The sun reflected on the surface of the crystal-clear water, making it shimmer. The breeze from the waterfall caressed your face, a soft wind drying your sweat with a gentle, cooling touch, rustling the leaves around you.

The warmth of the sun on your skin and the cool breeze from the river created the perfect atmosphere. It felt like heaven on earth, like an Eden. And the fact that you were there with the person you loved the most made it all feel ethereal.

"You like it?" Javi asked gently in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he wrapped his broad arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"Oh my God, Javi, it's so beautiful," you exclaimed, "I love it."

"Nobody will find us here, mi vida," he promised, "People follow the marked path, not all of them explore the surroundings," he explained. "As I told you, it's just you and me. Wanna take a swim?"

"Oh God, yes!" you exclaimed as you placed your backpack under a tree. You were wearing a black swimsuit under your shorts and oversize sports crop top, so you just had to take them off, and you jumped into the water.

The water was so clear that you could see the rocks at the bottom perfectly, and the shimmer of the sun on your skin. You swam to the center of the lagoon, and you heard the distant splash of another body jumping into the water. By the time you surfaced, Javier was already at your side, hugging your body and placing a peck on your lips as you wrapped his torso with your legs. You combed his hair disheveled by the water, running your fingers through his black hair. Then, you caressed his face, passing your thumbs on his mustache and bottom lip. He closed his eyes, absorbing your gentle petting. Your fingers wandered through the freckles painting his broad chest and shoulders. You cupped his face with your hands and kissed him with the perfect combination of tenderness and passion that you knew drove him completely dumb for you.

When he opened his big brown puppy eyes, he looked at you as if you were everything he had ever known.

"Te amo mucho, flaquita," he expressed tenderly.

"Yo también te amo, mi corazón," you promised.

"Are you hungry?" he asked after a couple of minutes of tender kisses and sweet nothings in the water.

"Very much," you laughed and started swimming to the shore.

Javi placed a towel on a rock near the water, and you both sat down to start eating and drinking what you brought. You even fed a squirrel with a piece of tamal, which made Javi laugh as he watched you melt in cuteness for the little animal.

"So, you used to come here with your cousins?" you asked him, eager to learn about his youth and his family. He nodded.

"We used to climb to the top of the mountain and swim in the river that everyone knows," he explained. But his expression shifted from a normal nostalgic sentiment to almost sadness in his eyes. He fell silent for a moment, and you regretted asking and potentially ruining the great moment you were having. However, he continued, "After my mom passed away, I was very angry with the whole world. I started being rude with my father and I started to smoke and get drunk with my friends." He let out a laugh, but it was empty. You knew little about how he lost his mother, since he didn't like to talk about it. He had told you that she was sick, that he was fifteen at the time, and that his father never married again. "One day I had a big argument with my dad. He was very angry because I failed all my exams, so I ran away and came here to the river. I was so angry and lost in thought that I didn't notice I had taken the wrong trail and got lost. So, I kept walking until I found this place."

He looked at the waterfall and the treetops, and you felt a shiver and a lump in your throat.

"I sat on this very rock and cried my eyes out, thinking about how much I missed my mom and that I was ashamed of my behavior towards my father," he added. "This place became my refuge. I used to come here every time I felt anxious, tired, or sad. I never told or brought anybody to this place, not even my father."

You couldn't help but wonder if he had ever brought Lorraine here. After all, she had been his first fiancée, and you wondered if he had considered sharing this secret place with her. However, you didn't dare to ask him, afraid of his response or of making him lie just to please you.

But he knew you so damn well, almost as if he could hear the unspoken question burning in your mind. He loved your low-key jealousy.

"Not even her," he clarified. His hand took yours and caressed your still-wet fingers, then he placed his big brown eyes on yours, so devoted to you. "The very first moment I saw you, I swear that you reminded me of this place. I don't know if it was the heat of the Colombian summer or the blue dress you wore that day, but seeing you seated at your desk brought me a peace I haven't felt in a long time."

You felt tears of happiness gathering in your eyes, butterflies in your stomach, and your cheeks turning cherry red. Javi moved closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his intense gaze still on your bright eyes.

"In that moment, I told myself that I have to bring you here, as my wife. Today is the first time I came back in seven years since I left for Colombia. And you are the only person I've ever shown my most precious secret."

Your hands reached for his face, making him stay still as you kissed him deeply and passionately. His hands went to your back, pulling you closer and kissing you back. You tasted the saltiness of your tears in between the kiss, but so did Javi, so he wiped them away with his thumb.

"I promised to you to be worthy of you, baby, and I intend to make it last forever," he promised.

"You have my heart, Javi," you promised back. "You're everything I have."

He leaned in to kiss your lips again, and then he stood up, pulling you up too.

"Enough of crying, babygirl. Let's swim," he said as he stepped into the water, but you let go of his hand, making him frown.

"Wait," you said, looking around, "Are you sure nobody knows about this lagoon?"

"I'm damn sure, baby. What's the matter?" he said, a bit confused, until he saw you taking off your swimsuit. His eyes darkened as they roamed your completely naked body, and you noticed his Adam's apple moving up and down.

"Is it okay?" you asked him, a mix of innocence and naughtiness that made his cock throb inside his shorts.

"You're amazing," he said as he started taking off his own swimsuit and then pulled you to him and into the water.

He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your chest, and you felt his cock half-hardened against your lower belly. But he let you go, and instead of diving straight into sexual matters, you both swam all around the lagoon, drank all the beers, bathed under the stream of the waterfall, and explored the depths searching for weird-shaped rocks. Sex was an amazing experience in your relationship. You both enjoyed each other's bodies and could spend hours tangled in your shared bed, on the couch, or in any other intimate place. The two of you also knew that there were many ways to make love, and not all of them were about sex. This was one of the connections that Javier learned from being with you. He adored your naked body, and it turned him on. There were days when he just couldn't keep his hands off you. However, he also learned to appreciate it in a way that went beyond lustful desires, reaching a level of intimacy that felt almost divine. He saw you through your nakedness, connecting with your soul, and vice versa.

But when you do fuck, you mean it.

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the lagoon. You felt his bare body behind you, his arms around your torso as he kissed your neck. You began to rub your buttcheeks against his cock, making him hiss.

Javi's hands disappeared under the water, looking for your core. His index and middle finger found your clit and began to traced gentle circles as he squeezed one of your breasts with his free hand.

You let out a couple of soft moans, trying to keep as quiet as possible, but Javi fastened his touch, making it so hard for you.

"Don't worry, nobody will hear us," he assured you, whispering to your ear, "C'mon, bonita, let me hear you begging for my cock."

"Javi...", you whimpered, feeling his dick slipping on your ass and his fingers between your folds.

"You're such a Goddess," he praised. Javier knew every detail about how to make love to you. He was proud of knowing every corner of your body, every angle, every freckle and every beauty mark over your body. He knew how to made you whimper and scream, and how to make you undone. Yet, he never get bored, not even after three years of relationship and the most wonderful four months of marriage. He would never had enough of every aspect of you.

"I... I need to... feel you inside," you whimpered.

He wanted to made you cum with his fingers and his mouth first, as he always do. But the scene was so kinky and erotic, making his cock throb so painfully.

"Fuck," he hiss, as he carried you, making you gasp, and took you back to the towel.

Javi laid down and you jumped on top of him. His cock was lying on his belly, so you started rubbing it between your wet folds, massaging your clit with his head. His hands captured your hips, so tight you think it would let bruises with the shape of his fingers. But you didn't care, it felt so good.

"I don't brought condoms, baby," he confessed.

"Are you telling me that you planned all this so I let you cum inside of me?", you teased, he shrugged playfully. "You're such a bad boy."

"What are you gonna do about it? Don't tell me that you don't want it too, feel your tight pussy filled with my cum," he whispered, making your core throb around his cock. He grinned, feeling you become even wetter. "I was thinking about starting to build that second bedroom I told you about. How does that sound?"

That was the signal. You and Javi lived in a house that he build years ago. It was at three kilometer from his father's ranch, and since he was not planning to get married at that time, the house only had one room. But now that the panorama had changed, the house was about to transform from a bachelor house to a family home. Starting for make a baby's room next to the the main room.

And just like that, Javi was asking you about starting to try. You answered with a nod and a shaking sigh, your body reacting to his words.

"C'mon, cowgirl, let's put a baby on you," he added, as you took his cock to your entrance. You moan hard as you felt his length stretching your walls, clenching around him. "Fuck, I love that pussy," he groaned.

He was also mesmerized by the view of you on top of him: your skin glowing at the sunlight, drops of water over your shoulders, your wet hair waving with soft air, your hands on his chests, your hardened nipples and your drop-shaped breasts. You looked gorgeous as always.

"You feel so deep, Javi," you moan, starting to moving back and forth, up and down with gentle movements. His pubic hair caressing your swollen clit, his hands over your hips and waist. "I want you to fill my pussy with your cum."

His cock felt different without a condom. You were a married couple, but you still had intercourse with protection, given that you didn't have plans to have a baby until now, and Javi wasn't selfish to make you take pills full of hormones and side effects. He always tried to have condoms on hand, and even though he had insisted that you didn't have to take morning-after pills, you both had sex without protection a couple of times. You always let him know how much you loved his bare cock inside of you and you knew how much he loved it too.

Your whimpers mixed with the sound of the waterfall was music for Javi's ears. He began to push his hips up at the same time as you went down, meeting each other halfway. The air was filled with filthy sounds of wet bodies and moans and whimpers. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, as he watch his cock disappeared inside your dripping cunt.

"I'm comin'... I'm... fuck...," you cried, as you felt a knot buildup on your lower belly.

"I know baby, I can feel your pussy clenching for me," he said. Javi took control of the situation, as you let him fuck you nice and deep, one thumb on your clit and his free arm around your waist to make you stay still. You placed your hands at both sides of his head, so he was able to capture your nipple with his mouth, making you cried and soaking wet.

"Don't you fuckin' stop, Javier! Just like that, me gusta cuando me coges así," you pleaded as he fastened his thrusts.

"Quiero verte corriéndote en mi verga," he commanded.

You reached your climax with a silent scream as the waves of pleasure washed over you, squirting over his cock. You pulled your hips up unconsciously, but he pulled you back down again, buried so deep into you. You felt him almost rubbing your cervix as his warm and thick load painted your walls.

He was also growling and letting out soft whimpers as he watched your pussy dripping a mix of his cum and your honey.

Javi pull out and placed your body beside him, kissing your collarbone and caressing the curves of your waist as you came down from your cloud of bliss.

"That was amazing," you murmured after a minute, your cheeks burning. You cupped his cheeks and kiss him on the lips again.

"I wanna swim again," he said, starting to stood up taking your hand to follow him.

But you pulled him closer, pressing his chest against your breasts as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, your tongues entwining. "You're not going anywhere. I told you that you were a bad boy, and you must be punished for that behavior, mister."

He grinned devilishly as you placed your hands over his shoulders and pushed him down your body.

[recurring-polynya]

Hi! I know you don't write her very often, but I love your Unohana. I don't know if this is an extra scene request, exactly, but re: your Renji joins squad 4 au, you've mentioned that he's probably seen Unohana's bankai. How would that even go down, and how unhinged would Unohana get? In this au, does Renji ever learn more about Unohana or does she just skirt around the topic forever? (If this is a no go then no need to publish, or, heck, even if it's fine I'm a nervous wreck just sending this)

I really did try to stick to the prompt this time, but it ended up being more about what Unohana knows about Renji, instead of the other way around. Thanks, queen who gives us nothing!! Anyway, here you go, just a lil story about a very normal relationship between a guy and his very hinged captain.

| read on ao3 |

(This takes place between Part 1 and Part 2) TW: Blood. Lots.

💀 ⚔️ 🩸

Unohana Retsu looked on, gently, but attentively, as her Fifth Seat poured her a cup of tea.

He had hands that were meant to grip a sword. Long fingered, knobbly knuckled, criss-crossed with scars, not a few of which she had given him herself. Nevertheless, his pour was steady, graceful, even.

"I know that you and Third Seat Kira are friends," she said, "so I suspect you've already heard the news."

Fifth Seat Abarai waited until he had placed the teapot back on the tray before responding.

"About his offer from the Third?"

Retsu nodded. "He told me this morning that he had accepted it."

Abarai nodded back, as if he was confirming the information to himself. "He told me he was gonna. I wouldn't--" He stopped himself and cleared his throat before continuing. "It's not a position I think I would like, but he seems excited about it."

"It's been wonderful having him here," Retsu observed, "but I've known for a long time that the Fourth wasn't a home for him."

Abarai's brows furrowed momentarily. Retsu wondered if he objected to this characterization of Kira, or if perhaps he was pondering a different unstated implication. "I guess you don't want me to try to talk him out of it, then." Or maybe he was just trying to figure out what any of this had to do with him.

Retsu took a sip of her tea. It was too hot, slightly oversteeped and worst of all, had a strange phantom sweetness to it. How?? They were her own tea leaves. She had watched him brew it. How did he do it? She placed her teacup back down on the table again. "I want you to take his seat."

Abarai blinked at her for a moment, owlish behind his thick-rimmed glasses. "Can't, ma'am. I haven't passed my Level 12 Kaidou Certification. Third Seat has to be able to run the Relief Station if you and Lieutenant Kotetsu get called away. And I don't think you should make an exception for me. Not for this."

The Fourth Division had a rigid set of exams and certifications that qualified its members for various positions. Retsu was not in the habit of granting exemptions generally, but Abarai wasn't the sort of person that rules were made for.

He was hardly her first involuntary transfer. Retsu was all-too aware of her squad's reputation as a dumping ground for underperforming shinigami. In his first three months at the Fourth, Abarai had cast zero kaidou, avoided three-quarters of his medical shifts, and submitted sixty-two transfer requests (Retsu still sometimes wondered about four that had come in on the same day. She never asked him about it. It must have been a Hell of a Tuesday.)

Exactly one month after she made him a deal--if he actually started trying, she would arrange for Isane to give him swordfighting lessons, and promised to transfer him if he was still unhappy at the end of a year--Twelfth Seat Aoga came to her and in a hushed voice told he that he thought Abarai might be a prodigy.

"Prodigy" wasn't exactly the right word for it. Abarai was just good with bones. Aside from herself, Retsu had four medics who could perform a full skeletal reconstruction, all senior officers, brilliant surgeons with distinguished tenures. Now, she had a fifth who couldn't otherwise heal a skinned knee. Everything he did was like that, though, backwards and out of sorts. He was excellent at chest compressions and setting bones and anything that required physical strength, but he struggled with the basic healing spells most people learned at the Academy. Long before he could do an anesthetic or antiseptic kaidou, the trauma surgeons were squabbling over him, simply because he was an incredible battery. When he couldn't get the hang of the common cold relief kaidou, he dug up one of Kirinji's horrible old techniques from somewhere in the depths of the library. It had been developed for highly infectious diseases that shinigami sometimes brought back from the deep Rukon and involved using your own immune system to turbo-charge the patient's. (Retsu had forbidden its use because there was a high probability of fatal backslash on the healer. Abarai usually just ran a high fever for a day or two afterward.)

That was all years ago, though. Abarai had grown into a perfectly competent healer. He wasn't the fastest or the most delicate, and his flesh healing still had a tendency to leave scars, but if there was one thing he excelled at, it was keeping people alive. No one could figure out exactly how he did it, or replicate his technique, but he was exceptionally good at pulling people back from the brink.

The real reason, though, she'd started giving him the exceptions that let him take on shift supervisor roles before he had the healing qualifications, was that Abarai was a natural leader in exactly the way that many of her subordinates were not. He had steel nerves. He was decisive in a crisis. He had a loud voice and people listened to him.

But shift supervisor wasn't the same as Third Seat.

"I agree," she said. "But I think you can get that certification. You've come a long way since we made our deal, Fifth Seat Abarai."

Abarai's cheeks colored, and he took a quick slug of his tea to cover his embarrassment. "I think I've pretty well held up my end of that bargain," he managed with a sheepish grin. "Level 12 Kaidou certification seems a little beyond what I agreed to."

"You have already gone quite far past what you agreed to," Retsu acknowledged. "But why stop now? You're hoping to make vice-captain yourself someday, aren't you?" She didn't point out that he was perfectly capable of passing the vice-captain's exam any time he chose to take it. He must be aware of this; he'd spent the better part of a year helping Kira through his own preparations.

Retsu chanced another sip of the tea while she waited for him to answer. It had not improved.

Abarai sucked his teeth for a long moment, then sighed in defeat. "There's a self-healing portion on the Level 12. I can't do it. I've tried and tried, but I got nothing. Can't heal a single scratch if it's on my body. Ask Kira, he's given up on me."

Retsu stared at him in amazement. "That can't be true. Everyone knows that your healing system--"

Abarai shook his head and shrugged expansively. "It's all involuntary. I'm a fast healer, but I got nothing to do with it. No kaidou involved."

Impossible. Abarai wasn't just a fast healer. His recovery ability, both in speed and magnitude, was a topic of hot speculation among her top officers. The very specific circumstances where his kaidou was above average were generally attributed to some form of leveraging off his own natural talents. She herself, who was quite familiar with his zanpakutou, had long assumed that it had a secondary healing aspect. Nevertheless, she had also assumed--

"Last week," she said, more curtly than she had intended, "when the Eleventh's Third Seat put his spear through your shoulder--"

"I mean, I cleaned it and bandaged it," Abarai admitted it. "Then I just slept it off."

And had been on shift eight hours later. Retsu closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What do you do after our spars, Fifth Seat? That thigh wound I gave you last time. The one you said 'only looked bad.'"

"Oh, yeah. That was a poor judgment on my part. Kira and I were sposed to go out later, though, so he. Uh. Found me passed out from blood loss in the hallway and gave me a patch-up. I woulda woken up eventually, if he hadn't! My body is very good at making blood!"

Retsu gathered her inner serenity. Abarai was not, by far, the most worrisome of her officers, but she had to worry about him in very different ways than her other officers. "Don't you find it strange," she said slowly, "that you have so much natural ability at healing, and yet you're unable to take control of the process yourself? That's all it is--a matter of mind over reishi."

Abarai's eyes clouded, and he looked away. "I know. It should be. But it's certainly not the first time something about my healing doesn't make any damn sense."

"That's not true," Retsu reminded him. "Everything about your healing makes sense. For you." She knew he didn't like it when she brought these things up. He was more willing to talk to Isane about feelings-related things, and Retsu was usually content to leave it between the two of them. But there were times where more directness was necessary. "It's a mental block, most likely."

"It's quite common to not be able to heal yourself, actually," Abarai prattled back emptily, a notch too loud, as though he hadn't heard her at all. "Most people got something or other they just can't do, right? That's why that 12th level certification is so rare! But you know who does have one?"

Retsu narrowed her eyes at him. Of course she knew.

"I'm sure Fourth Seat Iemura's been looking forward to Kira leaving for a long time," Abarai went on. "He'd be pretty mad at me for leap-frogging him, I think." As if Abarai didn't drive Fourth Seat Iemura to the edge of apoplexy on a daily basis, primarily by the mere crime of existing. "Besides," he said, sincerity returning to his voice, along with a slight edge of desperation, "now's not a good time for me to be thinking about exams. I'm so close to bankai, I can almost touch it. I know it."

Retsu knew it, as well. And she knew that his goals were not her goals. His earlier point had been well made--he had been more than fair to her.

"I understand," she said. "I have been thinking about that, as well, you know. There's a special training I have been considering, but I wasn't sure you were ready to get serious about it."

Abarai's eyes widened. "Really? I mean--I am! I really am! I'm ready!"

Retsu smiled sweetly at him. "In that case…when is your next day off?"

💀 ⚔️ 🩸

Abarai was quiet from the time they left the eastern gate of the Seireitei shortly after dawn on Saturday morning. Isane and Kira both had a habit of getting very chatty about nature whenever Retsu took them out of the city to train. It wasn't just the lack of conversation, though. Straining her ears, Retsu could still barely hear Abarai's footfalls. Despite his size, the leaves and branches rustled no more at his passing than at her own.

It was easy to think of him as a city boy. After decades in the Seireitei, Abarai's accent had been worn down to an occasional colorful expression, although it occasionally flared back to life when he was putting an unruly patient from the Eleventh in their place. He knew every street of the Seireitei, though, could name every player on the city football team. He was generally a cheerful and boisterous presence around the Coordinated Relief Station. You tended to hear him before you saw him.

Retsu knew as well as anyone, though, that you could change yourself on the outside, but you never really lost the old versions of yourself. You just covered them over, like an oyster creating a pearl. And she knew well what lay at the center of Abarai's soul. She had been to the deepest depths of the Rukon. Places where reality became thin, where time looped back on itself. Most Souls didn't survive long there, and those that did were…something else.

Abarai had grown up at the frayed edge of Soul Society. Still within the borders. Still in a place that resembled civilization, she reminded herself. He was the soul of a human child who had died and taught himself survive against all odds, a soul who had learned to move silently through the woods and chose to fight with tooth and claw for every drop of blood in his body. He wasn't a monster-boy created out of the bloody, ragged edges of Soul Society itself, the love of fighting made into the shape of a person. He just reminded her of one sometimes.

The sun was high in the sky when Retsu found a place that she felt would do. A wide, grassy clearing was ringed by a stand of stately pines. They were tall, but the trees were still young by the standards of Soul Society. Younger than her. She and Abarai set their packs off to one side, took a drink of water, did some stretches.

"You said we were doing something special?" Abarai asked as they lay on their backs, each hugging one knee to their chest.

"Hmm," said Retsu, switching legs. "Maybe that was a lie."

He turned his head to look at her.

"An exaggeration," she clarified. "It's not that special. We're just going to fight."

He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not buying this.

"You've already done most of the preparatory work," she explained. "You're strong enough. You've fully mastered your shikai. You can externalize your zanpakutou spirit." She stretched both legs out in front of her and sat up. "All that is left is to convince them that you need it. You need a challenge. A rock to crash up against, something that will break you to pieces without their intervention."

Abarai sat up and frowned. "I thought that was what fighting Captain Kuchiki was for."

"That's theoretical," Retsu replied. "You need something more imminent. You could go fight him, I suppose. I am not sure Zabimaru would be sympathetic to your cause."

Abarai stuck out his lower lip. "I'm pretty sure they wouldn't."

"It's no matter," Retsu said, rising to her feet. "That's never been your plan anyway, remember?"

Abarai nodded. "Right. You're right. Gettin' ahead of myself, as usual. Captain Kuchiki's had his bankai for ages. I need to master mine before I can face him. Which means I gotta get it, first."

What was it like, Retsu wondered, to be so impossibly young? To have so much laid out before you, to want so badly. She could hardly remember it.

"Just so," she said, striding to the center of the clearing. "And to do that, you will fight me."

Abarai rolled to his feet in a smooth motion. "I've fought you before," he grinned.

"I haven't been serious before," she replied, drawing her zanpakutou and examining it in the sunlight. There was an eagerness in her sword today, one she hadn't felt in a long time. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," said Abarai, "whenever you are. Look, there's really nothing special about this? Just a regular ol' fight? There's nothing you want me to focus on or try to--"

"Try," Retsu replied, " not to die. Bankai." The blade of her zanpakutou began to loosen and sag, dripping between her fingers to form a thick pool of blood-like ooze around her feet. "Minazuki."

If this were Kira, or perhaps even Isane, she would have given them a moment, let the impact sink in. But this was Abarai, who had grown up on the edges of the world, breathing violence into his lungs like spores, letting it spread through his blood and marrow and bloom from his skin. He blocked most the first volley of Minazuki's blood whips before his sword was even fully from its sheath. She still got in a good lash across one cheek, another against his calf. He had Zabimaru unsealed in time for the second round, and managed to block it completely. Minazuki was fast, though, too fast for Renji's shikai. The third attack hit before Zabimaru could reorient, severing the elbow tendon. Next, both knees. His legs hadn't finished buckling beneath him when she laid a deep gash across his gut, and one on the chest to match.

The wounds were carefully chosen. They both knew it. Immobilized and laid open, a sure death by exsanguination. Well. A probable death. Retsu stepped closer and placed the tip of her sword at his throat. His superhuman will to survive might be able to regenerate blood fast enough to keep pace with the torso wounds, but she didn't think that even he could outlive a slashed throat. Minazuki's ooze slithered around them, fencing in the growing lake of blood that poured from his body, soaking into her socks and sandals. "If you yield," she said, "I will heal you."

Stubborn as ever, Abarai tried to prop himself up on his good arm, which caused a fresh gush of dark liquid to fall out of him. Retsu waited. The arm failed him. He fell back down in his puddle again, then rolled onto his back. "After you heal me," he groaned, "can we go again?"

"No," replied Retsu. "That will be it for today."

Abarai was silent for a long time.

"Renji," she said. "You need to make a call. The patient is dying."

An angry growl rattled through his chest. "Save 'im," he finally sighed. "I yield. Whatever."

Retsu flicked a hand, and ropy tentacles of Minazuki clambered up onto him, sealing over his wounds with loud, wet slaps.

Abarai squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment and made a distressed noise in his throat. After the initial discomfort passed, one eye opened and swiveled to regard her. "This is just Minazuki's usual goop, ain't it?" he wheezed. "Does it change? Between fighting and healing? Chemistry-like?"

"Is now really the time to be thinking about this?" Retsu asked. She didn't usually use Minazuki's bankai form to heal people, and honestly had never thought about it much. Also, unlike Abarai, who practically had a summer home there, she, herself had never spent much time in Shikai-Minazuki's stomach.

"If I only get to fight you for twenty seconds at a time, I gotta learn as much as I can from it," Abarai said, closing his eyes again. Retsu's heart thumped in her chest. He wasn't anything like any of her other children, not even the lost one she kept trying to make him into, and for a brief moment, she loved him more than she could stand.

"When can we do this again?" he finally asked.

"Next week, if you like. If you feel ready to go again."

He let out an irritated whine, or possibly a whimper of pain. "Took…two hours to walk out here," he said, sounding more than a little petulant. "This is really how it's gonna be?"

"Yes," she said. "I don't like to release my bankai where people can feel it. This is how it's going to be."

He was quiet, and they both listened to Minazuki glorp and blorble away at his injuries for a few minutes.

"I need to fight your bankai to get bankai, but I'm gonna need a bankai if I'm gonna last long enough to figure out what kinda bankai I need to fight yours," he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

"Well," she said, "you only have to yield if you want me to heal you. If you want to heal yourself, I'll give you as many time-outs as you want."

Abarai's eyes shot open and his head rolled to the side, so he could regard her fully. "Time-outs?"

She nodded sweetly. "Mm-hmm."

"If I…I if heal. Myself." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes again, and rolled his head back to face the sky. "Fuck." Another deep breath. "Sorry for the language, ma'am."

"Don't worry about it," she replied. "And I know you can do it. I believe in you."

[gghostwriter]

Yours Truly, Romeo

Chapter 2 __ No Evidence, No Leads

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing.

Previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

"Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall." - Act 2, Scene 3. Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare

The tranquility and vast land spaces in Maryland was the first thing Spencer noted. It was a sharp contrast to the populated DC metropolitan.

“Hi, I’m Jennifer Jareau from the BAU,” the blonde hair woman introduced herself to the slightly portly man welcoming them at the station. “This is SSA Aaron Hotchner, SSA David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid. We spoke over the phone regarding the killings?” 

He pushed open the police station door. “I’m Chief Charlie Donn, hope we’d be meeting in better circumstances but with the killer dumping the bodies in our backyard, we’d rather not take any chances.” 

“What can you tell us about how the bodies were found?” Hotch asked, going straight to the point. 

“The first body was found Sunday, three weeks ago, by a couple walking along the river,” he started as he led the team to the meeting room with tacked case images and files. “The second body was found, Tuesday, two weeks ago, by a woman walking her dog and the last body was found two days ago by a patrolling officer.” 

“Why weren’t we invited earlier on when the second body was discovered?”

The sheriff sighed and placed his hands on his waist, seemingly taking in a defiant position. “We’re currently stretched thin due to lack of man power and my detectives and I assumed that these bodies were just floating down the river. When they started popping up again and again, we took notice.” 

“I’ll talk to the media to try and keep this as quiet as possible,” JJ suggested. “We wouldn’t want to scare our unsub away due to FBI presence. Chief Donn, please come with me.” 

As JJ and the Chief left the room, the phone clipped on Spencer’s pocket rang.

“Garcia,” he greeted. “Have you found anything that connects the victims?” 

“Hey Boy Wonder, I wish I was the bearer of good news,” she sighed. “All the connection I could find with the three victims were that they all recently moved from different parts of the country to Washington, DC. No social connection or school connection found.” 

“Washington, DC?” Rossi repeated. “So Maryland has a connection with the unsub and not the victims.” 

“What about their jobs, Garcia, any connection?” Hotch asked.

“None at all. Our first victim accepted a job as a sous chef for a French fusion restaurant in DC and when he didn’t show up for the first day of work, the management didn’t report him missing, just thought of him as a no show. The second victim got a job offer for a medium sized IT company, management also thought he was just a no show. And the third victim got a job as an illustrator for a publishing company. He actually went to work for his first week but was noted a no show afterwards.” 

“Run any surveillance cameras around their workplace and neighborhood for a timeline when they were last spotted,” Hotch ordered in his no nonsense voice. “Keep us posted, Garcia.” 

“Got it! You my fine furry friends, are welcome,” Garcia rambled out before ending the call.

———

Olivia didn’t sleep a wink during the night when she received the mail. She had tried to do every calming routine she could—yoga, meditation, warm tea before bed—and honestly, every paranoid act she could—double, triple checked all her doors, shut her windows and drawn the curtains—but sleep had evaded her weary body. There she stood in front of her bathroom mirror, surveying the damage the sleepless night had done to her reflection. The bags under her eyes looked darker than usual, her hair was in a sorry state of disarray, and there was a slight manic look brimming underneath her appearance.

She sighed as she stepped towards the shower. The water was icy cold to the touch which is not ideal for her at the slightest but she needed all the external help she could get to stay alert and awake for the day. The images flashing behind her closed set of amber eyes making her heart thud louder in her chest. There was nothing outwardly gory with the pictures, no blood at all, but it all had her hackles rise and her instincts scream for an unknown storm that was about to swipe in. 

There was a loud knock on her bedroom door as she was lost in her thoughts, causing her to jump. 

“Hey Olivia,” Hollie said behind the locked and blocked entryway. “Are you up?” 

She rushed to get dressed in her casual clothes and removed the chair she jammed under the doorknob last night due to her paranoia. “Hi Hollie, thank you again for staying with me last night—” 

Hollie shrugged and squeezed her shoulders to ease tension. “No worries at all. What do you say we go and report it to the police?”

“—It might have been nothing. Maybe it was just my active imagination, you know as a writer and all, and besides we both know how the authorities get with things like this.” She shook her head and rambled on as they both rushed down the stairs to her kitchen. 

Hollie said nothing to counter her argument, clearly remembering the same instance Olivia was alluding to. During their time in the university, they had experienced a break in their three shared dorm room. None of their possessions were touched but a pair of their third roommate’s intimates were stolen and in return, the thief left a a red rose on her bed. Frightened, the three of them reported it to the college campus authorities who did little to no help at all. The locks were changed, yes, but no additional investigation was done to figure out the culprit. At one point, the security had even believed that it was all just an elaborate prank by the girls. Hinting that maybe the other had stolen the pair of underwear as some form of sick joke.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz

It was the ring of the doorbell. Both women approached the front door with wary. Hollie glanced through the peephole, making sure that there was no one there before slowly opening the door slightly.

Olivia inhaled sharply, noting another unmarked parcel on her doorstep. Hastily grabbing it and bolting the door shut, they both all but ran into the safe confines of her office before promptly dropping the letter at her table like it was radioactive. 

“Maybe—maybe we shouldn’t open it and just bring it straight to the police,” Hollie suggested.

Olivia shook her head, steeling herself for the worst. “We have to know what’s inside before alerting anyone.” 

Her hands shaking, she slowly opened the white envelope and deeply regretted her decision. She wished she could scrub her mind clean to rid itself of subjects that the Polaroid films captured. The images were now beyond the spectrum of creepy and entering the genre of pure horror. Each contained close ups—an upper body shot from the elbow to the neck with black stitching on the armpit to connect the obviously mismatched skin and half a face with a high bridge nose sewn in place and an empty cut space for the eyes and lips. 

Olivia all but ran to the adjoining powder room to vomit the half toast she had eaten earlier and in the background, she could hear Hollie frantically looking for her cellphone.

“Hello 911,” Hollie sobbed out. “Please, please we need help.” 

———

Spencer had been up the whole night trying to piece together a profile with little to no success. His coffee-addled brain was telling him that there was a similarity with this case and the horrendous murders of Ed Gein but with no proof as to what, he hadn’t been able to share his inkling to the team up until Garcia’s early morning phone call. 

“Good morning to you all my loves,” she greeted, her bubbly personality leaking out from Morgan’s speaker. “I may have something that could be connected to our case.”

“Hope it’s something good, baby girl, ‘cause boy genius here is at his wits end,” Morgan teased.

“Well we wouldn’t want that, won’t we my chocolate thunder?” She quipped back. “A 911 call was made from Washington DC a few hours ago about a series of letters and pictures sent to a woman named Olivia Hill and oh boy, did she not have a great morning—”

“Wait, Washington DC? Where all the victims came from?” Rossi asked, cutting her off.

“Right, you are and well, those images contain possibly the missing skin from our victims,” she rambled on. “All sewn up together like some Frankenstein.” 

Silence. 

“I’m sorry, did you say sewn together?” JJ clarified. “That seems new for an unsub.”

“Right you are my love, this takes the cake for horrific creativity from our usual killers, if you ask me. Anyways, I’ve sent the letters and images to your emails, keep safe my babies!” The phone line goes dead.

Spencer rapidly reviewed the contents sent and he felt the puzzles finally now clicking into place. Why his brain couldn’t let go of the nagging thought that this had resemblance to the Butcher of Plainfield.

“That’s why I couldn’t stop thinking about Gein—why the there was no connection with the victims no matter how much we dug and thought about it,” he started to babble rapidly, gaining the attention of the rest of the team. “They weren’t the real victims, more like chess pieces to this twisted fantasy that the unsub has to the true victim which is her, Olivia Hill.” 

“Slow down, kid. What’s this about Gein?” Morgan asked, clearly trying to catch his train of thought.

“Do you mean about him wearing the skins of his victims?” Prentiss catching on. 

Spencer nodded. “He’s making a face and body suit, quite literally, to wear from the missing parts and if I’m right, once the suit is complete, he’ll have to go after her next.” 

“Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, stay here and keep us updated should another body appear,” Hotch delegated. “Morgan, Reid, and I will fly to DC for coordinating. Wheels up in thirty.”

“You got it,”  Prentiss replied. 

a/n: please do not repost anywhere else. I only post here on Tumblr and on ao3. I'm using this whole week to write all the future chapters I can so expect one more update this week for Yours Truly, Romeo. Would also like to hear any comments or feedback from you my pookies xx

[happyhauntt]

➡ faye's writing masterlist.

here you can find all my published oneshots, blurbs & series! some content may be crossposted on my ao3 account, happyhauntt. i accept requests! check out the list of characters / fandoms i'll write for.

𝐡𝐩 & 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐚.

young gods ── canon [1.2k] ➡ the gryffindors have a little tradition on their first night back at hogwarts.

famous last words ── james potter x reader [2.1k] ➡ you and james are sworn enemies. you find you quite like it that way.

a writer & his muse ── sirius black x reader [1k] ➡ renowned mystery writer sirius black has a new muse in his life, and unfortunately, it's you. castle!au.

la vie en rose ── sirius black x reader [1.8k] ➡ it's just a regular tuesday in july until an escaped convict appears in your kitchen. oh, and he happens to be your ex.

oh, captain! ── cedric diggory x oc [series masterlist] ➡ megan wynne jones wants to be the best, but there's one annoyingly perfect boy standing in her way: cedric diggory.

𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

haunted ── alina starkov x reader [1.1k] ➡ alina starkov is dead, except she isn't, and the memory of her haunts you constantly.

gold rush ── nikolai lantsov x oc [series masterlist] ➡ it doesn't matter what she calls him. pirate, privateer, prince, sobachka, her heart aches for a man she knows she can never truly have. nikolai lantsov, the hope of ravka. anya kamenev, ravka's bane. oh, what a pair they make. a series of interconnected oneshots about nikolai & anya.

𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬.

a grey day ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.3k] ➡ spencer meets the newest member of the department.

a lack of caffeine ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.8k] ➡ caffeine makes the world go 'round. that's something you and spencer can agree on. follow up to 'a grey day'.

bury these bones ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.9k] ➡ spencer’s day isn’t anything more than average, but a surprise phone call and impromptu hospital visit have him rethinking his expectations.

𝟗-𝟏-𝟏.

a touch of colour ── eddie diaz x reader [2.7k] ➡ eddie and chris' home is freakishly empty. you decide to redecorate a little.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬.

fight or flight ── poe dameron x solo!reader [1.6k] ➡ you and poe have never seen eye-to-eye. most days, you wonder if you ever will.

beautiful ghosts ── star wars [series masterlist] ➡ nearly thirty years after the empire’s fall, something darker has risen in its place. helmed by a monster who makes puppets out of lost, broken boys, the first order seeks to crush the galaxy once and for all  ━━  and the resistance, led once again by general leia organa and her wife, colonel ashka cybele, will stop it by whatever means necessary. if that means sacrificing their children, then that is what they must do. multiple x ocs. a sequel trilogy rewrite.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

burial ground ── finnick odair x oc [series masterlist] ➡ In District Four, they teach you  how to survive the Games. They don’t teach you how to survive what comes after.

𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨.

in the light ── the doctor x oc [series masterlist] ➡ the doctor doesn't believe in lost causes. fox is determined to prove them wrong.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

hello sunshine ── steve harrington x oc [series masterlist] ➡ cleo has lived in the house next door her whole entire life ─ and nobody has ever questioned what came before, not even once.

𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐢𝐚𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

we are a god ── rhaenyra targaryen x oc x alicent hightower [coming soon] ➡ none could have foretold, when viola first set foot in the red keep at the tender age of seven, the havoc she would wreak upon the political landscape of the seven kingdoms. least of all the girl herself.

inkpot gods ── jaime lannister x oc [series masterlist] ➡ a tourney at Harrenhal causes a war to ignite, and cassia finds herself caught in the very center of a world where good men do unforgivable things, and the bad men are even worse.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

What other novels to your inbox do you recommend? I have done Dracula Daily for years and I want to expand my horizon. War is pretty much the only thing that I don't like. Thanks

Hi!

So funny story, contrary to my username and bio…I have not been keeping up with the classic novels in my emails lately. BUT. That does not mean I don’t have some recommendations for you!

Also, since you did mention you don’t like war, I made sure not to recommend any novels that heavily involve war (War & Peace & Emails, for instance). However, I do know some characters in these recommendations have history with war (e.g. Watson was a war doctor) and I’ve made sure to make mention of that wherever possible. So, I apologize if that comes off as annoying or stating the obvious, I just want you to be fully informed before you read. I’m also listing general content warnings as a rule to inform anyone who might be interested in these Substacks. :)

On to the recommendations!

If you’re looking for mystery…

Learn about the greatest detective of all time from his faithful partner — that’s right! Read Letters from Watson to get the scoop on Sherlock and solve mysteries alongside the legendary duo. I thought this was such a cool concept and I wish I had been able to keep up with it. But it was very fun for the time I did. It goes through the entire chronology of Sherlock stories (which is a lot, by the way) and they just started going through the “more complex cases” (aka, the 4 Sherlock novels) back in January. So, it might be a good time to start! There isn’t war in these cases (at least as far as I know, each email does have a list of content warnings for specifics), but Watson was a war doctor and this does come up frequently, just as a heads up.

If you’re looking for epistolary stories…

Literary Letters takes obscure epistolary novels from the public domain and puts them into your inbox! Right now they’re reading The Sorrows of Young Werther, which is about a guy who’s in love with a girl who’s betrothed to another and writes very passionate letters on the subject.

For a content warning, I’ve included the publisher’s note on this one: “There are passages where the book discusses Werther’s depression, despair, rationalizations for suicide, and the suicide itself at length, so please take whatever precautions you need to read the book safely, which may include buddy reading, mental health breaks, or skipping it altogether.”

So with that being said, the reason I got into this email chain was actually for their first novel they emailed - The Lightning Conductor. I absolutely loved this novel and I heavily recommend going back into the archives to read it and its sequel if you can (that one is in the “Side Stories” archive). It’s a very lighthearted read and a romance, told in epistolary format! Basically, it’s about this smart (yet a bit scatterbrained — not judging, because, same) woman who goes to Europe for the first time and she ends up meeting a gentleman when her car breaks down. Said gentleman is mistaken for a chauffeur and he goes along with it, just because she’s dreamy and he’s already smitten with her. Then there’s her “best guy friend” and her mom trying to throw a wrench in their plans. It’s utter chaos and I love it. I could go on for hours about this novel, but I won’t! I do highly recommended reading it if you ever get the chance.

If you’re looking for a read in verse format…

Check out Divine Comedy Weekly! It’s telling Dante’s Divine Comedy every Tuesday and Thursday. There’s not much to say about this one because I dropped out pretty early in the game, unfortunately. For some reason, stories told in a lyrical/verse format don’t seem to be my thing, but maybe they’re your thing! I think it’s a great concept and for that reason, I will recommend this.

If you’re looking for an all-new read…

North and South by Jane Austen is coming to your inbox this June! It’s apparently a bit like Pride and Prejudice but with the Industrial Revolution and labor relations. I actually just subscribed to this one and I’m excited to see how I enjoy it!

If you’re looking for a long haul read…

Buckle in! It’s time for Whale Weekly! That’s right, you’re in for a THREE YEAR TRIP with this bad boy because Ishmael is emailing you the tale of Moby Dick. Life has gotten in the way and I’ve fallen behind (though this is motivating me to catch up again), but this is actually really good as an email read because this guy goes on so many tangents, it’s more fun for me to absorb his thoughts in spaced out emails, rather than if I tried to read the book.

The memes are very fun with this one, but please keep in mind there is racism and foul language in this, as well as other heavy topics I can’t remember off the top of my head. Also, this does not take place in a war setting, but I do believe some characters have been in war in the past, so that is probably something to keep in mind with this one!

This one is coming to an end fairly soon (I didn’t realize we were on chapter 113/135 OOF), so I don’t know if they’re going to do another round after this or leave it. I imagine it would probably be hard to catch up at this point, but I’m going to link it anyway because I typed all of this up before realizing how far along we were and I do still recommend the read in email format rather than a novel format.

If you’re looking for horror…

I would recommend “The Beetle Weekly”. I wasn’t able to finish this one because LifeTM got in the way, but it is, for sure, one of the reads of all time. Probably the best and worst thing you could read ever tbh. It’s not very enjoyable and I’m not pitching it well at all, but for some reason, I am legitimately recommending this because it is hilarious to read with Tumblr memes by your side. As a heads up, this book does include racism, gore, sexism, transphobia (iirc?) and likely more content warnings I can’t remember. The reason I’m recommending it at all is because it does carry some of the same themes as Dracula and the characters are interesting. Plus, love it or hate it, I reacted while reading this book - a lot. Did I mention I have a bug phobia? Also, fun fact: it was published at the same time as Dracula and was actually MORE POPULAR than Dracula for a while before fading into obscurity.

The only thing is, it did just end last April so you might have to wait until December for it to crawl back into your inbox if you’re interested.

If you’re looking for a thriller…

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly. I absolutely LOVED THIS ONE!!!! Very much vibes of Dracula Daily. Immaculate stuff right there. This one has a lot more comedy than you’d think and was very enjoyable. Content warnings for violence against a child (mentioned, not shown), body horror, and there is one more I can’t say without spoiling the book (feel free to DM me if you’re interested in knowing).

Again, this is pretty short and it’s not currently active; it runs November through January, so that’s when you can look out for it!

I was hoping to recommend some more via a masterlist, I know someone made a post waaay back in 2022 when this serialized email novel thing first got started, but it looks like it got deleted, so if there is a new one, I would love for anyone to share it just for future reference!

I do have a couple of honorable mentions I’ll link that I haven’t read and know next to nothing about, but just so you can have even more recommendations. Please feel free to share your favorites!

[aresianrepose]

Before the semester kicks off and murders me, @disniq​ asked for my essay on Jason Todd and hysteria. So, without further ado, here is an actual essay (fucking dissertation) because I refuse brevity. It is extremely long. I’ve split it into sections so you can find the section header and read what you want. This does not encompass all the narrative trauma themes and lived experiences that this boy holds, just specifically hysteria. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric & Bruce Wayne, The Batman

I think it’s a common reading that Jason Todd is girl-coded and the patron saint of victims, at least within the circle that I’ve fallen into within this fandom. There are plenty of meta discussions on why those readings stand, so I’m not going to reiterate them. A pillar of him being girl-coded and someone trauma survivors have latched onto as one of our own has to do with being written in the context of hysterical femininity. And let me just say, I don’t think that writing was done in a way that he was intentionally coded as hysterical, but it is a function of our patriarchal society that this coding was used on him albeit without the explicit purpose of writing a hysteric story. 

For the purpose of this post: the word woman includes ciswomen, transwomen, and any person who is socially positioned as a woman regardless of gender identity. I include the positionality here because anyone can experience misogyny and sexism depending on the perception of the perpetrators either interpersonally or systemically. 

The History and Context of Hysteria

To understand the context, we have to look at the history and oppression of hysteria. Hysteria (in the modern context of psychology) emerged in the nineteenth century and is difficult to define by design and often applied to traumatized, unruly, and broken women. The main patriarchs who contributed to hysterical study were Jean-Martin Charcot and Sigmund Freud. I only mention this because it’s important to know their names moving forward for any of this to make sense. The beginning of this started with Charcot literally putting women whose lives had been marked by rape, abuse, exploitation, and poverty on display in his Tuesday lectures (which were open to the public) to show his findings on hysteria. This was actually seen as restoring dignity (fucking yikes) to the women because before Charcot these hysterical women were cast aside and not treated at all. In Charcot’s work, the women’s speech was seen as simply “vocalization” and their inner lives, their stories, their words, were silenced. After hearing a woman cry for her mother during one of the public sessions Charcot remarked, “Again, note these screams. You could say it’s a lot of noise over nothing” (Herman). 

This led to Freud, Charcot’s student, wanting to surpass his teacher by discovering the cause of hysteria. This was disastrous. Freud started with listening to the hysterics. In doing so, he learned and believed them about the abuse, rape, and exploitation of their pasts. He then published his work and gave a lecture on it. The work rivals even contemporary psychological work on trauma in it’s level of compassion, understanding, and treatment of survivors. However, he was then labeled a feminist (this was all happening during the first wave of feminism) and professionally ostracized. How in the world could these aristocratic French men be sexually abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters??? Insanity, truly. And... This always fucking gets me. He recanted his work and then told his patients they all imagined it because they wanted to be sexually abused by their husbands, brothers, and fathers. This set back the study of trauma by literally a century. One colleague called his work “a scientific fairy-tale” simply because he had the audacity to believe victims. Also, I want to point out that the famous hysteria case during this time was the case of Anna O and she was ultimately villainized by the entire psychological community for going into crisis after her care provider abruptly ended their therapeutic relationship after two years of DAILY sessions. 

Anyway. We can see how the power of these men over vulnerable women silenced, pathologized, villainized, infantilized, and used male ‘logic’ to completely destroy their credibility and lives under the guise of care and hysteria. Even when credible men lend their expertise and voices to the victims, their voices are silenced. This particular iteration of hysteria lasted over a century, and we are still dealing with the consequences of these actions and ideas within our social construction, medical and mental health care, interpersonal relationships, and more. Patriarchal pillars such as hysteria don’t die. We saw it move from hysteria to schizophrenia (which used to have the same symptoms of hysteria before the diagnosis changed in more contemporary psychology) after this which led to widespread lobotomies and electroshock therapy (my least favorite case of a lobotomy being done is on a woman who was diagnosed with LITERALLY ‘narcissist husband’) to depression in the 40s-50s with the over prescription of benzodiazepines to house wives to keep them in a zombie state (these prescriptions were sometimes double and triple what we take today with the intent of medical catatonia). In my opinion, as well as other counselors within the feminist therapy theoretical orientation, we are currently seeing it with the emergence of borderline-personality disorder. Think about how BPD is treated and demonized for a second. I professionally know therapists who refuse to work with BPD clients due to this villainization and just fucking gross perception of victims.

These are just the highlights, but it shows the history of hysteria. There have been centuries of women being marked as hysterical and the cures have ranged from lobotomy to bed rest (which sounds not so bad but read the Yellow Wallpaper and get back to me on that one). While the Yellow Wallpaper is fictional, the life behind it was not. After the traumatic birth of her child the author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was remanded to bed rest by the authority of her husband and doctor. Within the sphere of medical control, hysterical women are often treated as children while their doctors make decisions for their mental well-being without consulting them, or they hide the truth of their procedures for “the woman’s own good” and because “she’s hysterical and wouldn’t comprehend the logical need for this.” She then had a mental break due to the treatment. Again, we see hysterical women being silenced, infantilized, discredited from their own experiences, and under the narrative control of male logic and voices. 

Hysterical women have often historically been seen as beneath men, except for when they’re dangerous. Listening to victims is inherently threatening to the status quo because all trauma comes from a systemic framework. The framework that upholds patriarchal power. It’s easy to see why that would be seen as dangerous to powerful men. We saw this with the European witch genocide in which oppressed women were targeted and wiped out under the excuse of what was considered women’s work. (Before this time, witchcraft wasn’t tied to any religion and was mostly just seen as women’s work. It was targeted specifically to have an excuse to persecute widows, homeless, disabled, and vulnerable women who no longer had men to reign over them during a time of political unrest and scarce resources). This time period saw hysterical and traumatized women demonized as dangerous, evil, immoral, hypersexual, and supernaturally wily. A threat to the moral fabric of society. 

(Interesting history side note: this caused the view of women’s base traits we have today. It stemmed from the Victorian era that came after this time period in which women learned if they behaved a certain way, they would be spared the stake. For example, before the witch trials, women were actually seen as the ones with unsatiable sexual appetites, something we culturally prescribe to men now.) 

Notice how none of this has to do with the actual abuse that happens to the women, but instead the labeling and treatment of women when they are already showing the symptoms of abuse, trauma, control, exploitation, and rape. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric

So, how does this relate to Jason Todd? To say that Jason has experienced trauma would be an understatement. Extreme poverty, loss of parent to death and addiction, loss of parent to the justice system, parental abuse, manipulation, witnessing violent crimes, witnessing the aftermath of sexual abuse and assault, arguably (not explicit in the text) his own sexual trauma, witnessing the dead bodies of victims, a violent death, and subsequently a violent resurrection. There’s also an argument to be made for being a child soldier and how that is romanticized up until he dies, but the text does not treat this as traumatizing.

Now, I’m not going to dive into the trauma he experienced. The purpose of this is only to look at how he’s framed as hysterical in the narrative, and as I stated, hysteria was a word slapped on women after they tried to talk about their trauma or exhibited symptoms (or were just unruly women). Jason does embody many facets of the victim experience and this is just one of them. 

Feelings vs “logic” - Firstly, it is really hard to talk calmly about things that you carry, your experiences, your trauma, and things that specifically harm you. It is easy to talk calmly about things that don’t. This is why there is an abuse tactic of gaslighting or silencing victims by framing their very real reactions to harm or their triggers as abuse, this is known as “reactive abuse.” This tactic is also employed in oppressive settings where the privileged group will often default to ‘winning’ a debate by being able to remain calm while the marginalized group whose life, personhood, etc is being harmed by the things being discussed and are unable to have a sterilized, emotionless debate. 

Both of these settings fit Jason nicely within the moral context of vigilante comics. He fought back, he didn’t lay down, and he will do what he deems as necessary to protect himself and others from his fate. This, however, is framed by Bruce and others as being just as bad as his murderer or even just as bad as Joe fucking Chill. To put this in perspective of a real world equivalent. Combine every billionaire on this planet into one person and instead of their shitty business practices murdering people, they did it with their own two hands. And due to their resources and political power, they would never, ever stop killing or be reasonably contained. More people would die with absolute 100% certainty. Would killing that one person make you equally bad as that person or violating the sanctity of life? That’s the moral question that Bruce puts onto Jason. While the moral question inherent to Jason is actually, is there a line worth crossing to provide reasonable safety (for yourself or the nameless community)? There is actually a difference between those two questions and the reactive abuse framing is certainly a choice. Also, it is funny to me that a man with the amount of power Bruce has (and frequently misuses) can lecture a murder victim on the misuse of power and morality. Are we supposed to be agree with his stoic, philosophical lecturing to a marginalized, abused, murder victim? (yes, we are). Bruce leverages (personal) philosophy against victim’s voice for their own safety, and take a wild guess which one is framed as logical and reasonable.

Jason’s morals come secondary to Bruce’s philosophy in a universe where there is still harm being done (but it’s an acceptable harm). Why is killing the line? Bruce is regularly destroying families and lives by feeding them into the prison industrial complex while supporting it with his whole chest. Or he’s disabling and seriously maiming people with the level of violence he uses. 

Crying - Throughout the entire story of Under the Red Hood, we never once see Bruce emote while interacting with Jason outside of tight grimaces. With the exception of the shock he shows at the Joker’s life being threatened, which... Okay, suuure. We never see him cry during any of their interactions, but we do see Jason cry. Specifically, we see him crying when he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable and physically dangerous to the toxic male power fantasy. This kind of vulnerability is rarely shown by male characters, and when it is, it’s usually done with a mist of a tear in their eyes or their face is hidden. There are a few narrative devices that allow men to cry, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, it’s to play for laughs, infantilize, or emasculate. Here, we see Jason combine the violence of a bad victim, bucking the system of power, and fully crying. Just slide right into that hysterical coding like a glove. Jason often shows his feelings entirely. Time and time again, the readers have seen Jason have breakdowns, cry, and be overcome with grief. This is tied to his portrayal as hysterical and unstable in the narrative, but in actuality it shows his capacity for love and how vastly impactful his death was. 

This fits nicely with the next point that Jason fits into the hysterical box. Love is framed as one of his key faults. A son reaching for his father. 

Love - One of Jason’s defining features is the amount of love and compassion he holds. He’s willing to put up with any treatment, shoulder blame, and sacrifice himself for others to almost an unhealthy degree. However, this doesn’t extend to what he defines as his baseline safety. This one line of safety is the one thing that can’t be crossed, even with all of the love he feels for his father. He desperately wants to feel connection, have a family, and be loved in return with the same unwavering ferocity love that he gives. This is such a fucking key part of the victim experience, especially victims of childhood trauma. The desperation to just be chosen. He’s raw and honest with his reasonable expectation for love to provide safety for him and that is framed as hysterical, needy, unstable, naive, and fucking childish. Victims know what they need to have safety, and this framing as Bruce knowing what’s best for Jason and literally giving a cold shoulder to his needs is disgusting. 

Less than - Jason is portrayed as less powerful than Bruce even though they have similar expertise. There are so many instances of this that if you just open any media they both appear in, you can close your eyes, point, and land on an example. It makes me die laughing every time I remember that the Arkham games made Jason just one inch shorter than Bruce. Like, they can’t even be the same fucking height, that’s the level of insecure masculinity surrounding this relationship. Jason cannot and will never be able to be on par with Bruce because of his hysterical femininity and the power of Bruce being the self insert for the toxic male power fantasy. This power dynamic applies to the other batkids as well, but specifically in Jason’s case there is an element of hysteria. The reasons change because he’s so inconsistently written but usually he can’t surpass or even meet a stalemate with Bruce because he’s too emotional, he’s unstable, traumatized, and simply Bad. It’s even explicitly stated by Alfred in Under the Red Hood. 

Victim blaming - Jason deserved to die because he didn’t follow orders. Jason deserved to die for not following his training. Jason deserved to die because he was an angry Robin (oh no a child had an appropriate reaction to sexual violence). Jason deserved to die for being human.

Infantilization - Jason is repeatedly infantilized in contrast to Bruce. When given the ultimatum at the end of UtRH, Bruce speaks to Jason like a child, or a bad dog. Ordering him to do things like, “enough!” or “stop this now.” Bruce knows what’s best for Jason (and for everyone in the entire world), we should really just take his word for it and not the victim’s. Imagine staring at a 6 foot wall of a man and scolding him like a child. Beyond that, as mentioned above, his views of love and safety are framed as childish. Even though they are actually leaning more toward collectivism rather than the rampant individualism that Bruce so strongly defers to. (also, just a side note, collectivistic methods in healing from trauma is actually the only scientifically reliable way to heal. Every other method has absolutely abysmal results and higher rates of relapses.)

Silenced and Safety Villainized - Jason is silenced in his own story, acceptable and honored when he was dead and met with vitriol in life. All of the love given to him as Robin turns to ash as soon as he collides with Bruce’s power and morals. I think any survivor can relate to the experience of being told that what happened to them was a long time ago and it’s time to move on. Or even that they’re leveraging their own safety to get what they want in a manipulative way. Regardless of whether or not there was any accountability or justice for the harm done to them. Alfred asks Bruce if he should remove Jason’s memorial in the cave like two seconds after learning of his resurrection because Jason’s methods of securing safety for himself and using his own voice to define his story. Bruce was able to tell Jason’s story when he died. He was able to memorialize, grieve, and ultimately define Jason’s story because Jason wasn’t there to speak for himself. When Jason does speak for himself, he is villainized and literally stripped of his past significance as Robin (or a good victim) by Alfred within seconds. This is reflected in real life with adoptee advocates speaking about how adoption is unethical/harmful/traumatizing and subsequently being framed as ungrateful, selfish, etc. They were little perfect victims without voices before they grew up and could speak for themselves.

Erased - Gestures at the entirety of how Jason is either talked about or completely erased during the 90s Tim Robin run. He wasn’t convenient to talk about, as victims rarely are. This also ties into how Steph’s death was erased and Babs was written like she “won” at trauma by simply... beating it??? 

Dangerous - Jason is framed as threatening the basic fabric of society (in a story with vigilantes this is hard to do, so they have him oppose the no-kill rule, and then doubled down on Bruce’s characterization of no-killing). Anything that bucks the status-quo is usually marked as villainous in mainstream vigilante/superhero comics, but this is a step beyond that into the interpersonal and political sphere. Hysterical women are often framed as dangerous, villains, snakes, and treacherous (the other side of this coin is weak, pathetic, and pitiable) because they are victimized and then have the audacity to do something to the system about it. Whether that be the system of their immediate families or the political sphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jason was paired with Talia in Lost Days to hammer this point home to the reader. It could’ve just as easily been anyone with access to the Pit that rescued him, but no, we had DC’s favorite brown, treacherous, venomous, female punching bag. 

Bruce Wayne, The Batman

Bruce fits well into the father, enforcer, and logical man slot in Jason’s hysterical story. There is a history of ownership throughout women’s history when it comes to their subjugation to men. Women actually couldn’t be put on trial before the witchcraft genocide because they weren’t seen as legally a person. Their male owner would be put on trial instead. Women would go from being owned by their fathers to their husbands after entering marriage, the most dangerous woman being one who isn’t owned (orphaned, widowed). Bruce does treat (and even thinks) about Jason like he’s something that he owns. He’s his protege, his son, and his responsibility. 

The narrative function of Bruce as a perpetrator in Jason’s story. 

“The perpetrator asks the bystander (reader) to do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander (reader) to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering” (Herman). 

Bruce does remember what happened to Jason. He keeps a permanent memorial to his dead son. However, this doesn’t translate into any kind of tangible action. He doesn’t do anything to actually stop the murderer who took his son’s life and he continues to throw child soldiers at the problem of crime (how many children have died for the sake of his no-kill rule at this point?). When met with the reality of his inaction, he fits into the perpetrator’s role like a glove:

“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the first line of defense... If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens... From the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization... One can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it upon herself; and in any case it’s time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater his prerogative to name and define reality, the more completely his arguments prevail” (Herman). 

I think it is simply fact at this point that Bruce is the head patriarch in Gotham if not, arguably, in the entirety of DC. That level of power in the narrative cannot be ignored, especially when faced with the very real, screaming voice of a victim that Bruce uses all of that power to silence. Bruce, because of his status as patriarch, default protagonist, and self-insert for the toxic male power fantasy, has the ultimate power to name and define reality. Especially to the reader. Bruce doesn’t deny what happened to Jason, because that’s physically impossible to do. But what he does do is ensure that no one listens to Jason, discredits him, and rationalizes his own inaction, actions of violence towards Jason, and victim blames.

Here’s Bruce using the most base form of denial and victim blaming:

After this panel, Bruce also revokes Dick’s access to his childhood home simply for asking a question.

This theme extends to other members of the batfam because of Bruce’s narrative power over them. It’s why we can’t have Dick, Steph, Babs, or even Damian step in and relate to Jason’s trauma or vindicate him. Even when we, the readers, can see parallels and wonder why these conversations or bonds aren’t forming. Jason HAS to be a lone wolf because he is hysterical and a threat to the system of power. This also shows why most of his runs in group settings outside of the batfam fall apart or fall flat. If he was humanized by any other character or had his trauma validated in any actionable way, it would be recognizing the failure of the toxic male power fantasy. The readers are not supposed to see the flaw in this system that allows the bodies of children to pile up and sympathize with one of their voices. It would be a crack in the system of power that exists not only in the source material, but very much within our real world.

Side note: Jason is allowed to interact with others in a wholesome and validating way when he no longer threatens the systemic power of Bruce. When he is silenced by the writers and plays the “nice victim” (like Babs does), he is allowed connection. Only when his healing is done in a way that doesn’t demand action and is only his personal responsibility (gotta love the rampant individualism). If he is hysterical, demands action, and asks for someone to be held accountable for his death, he is shoved away into a lone wolf box. Examples: Gotham Knights (from my very basic understanding, I haven’t played the game, only seen play throughs) and WFA. Victims are acceptable if they do their healing in a neat little box and stay there, but hysterics are the ones who step outside of that box.

Red Hood, The Political Voice of Hysteria and Trauma

Red Hood is deeply political in terms of hysteria and trauma. Herman stated that victims and those that authentically care for them or listen to them intently (whether that be interpersonally, clinically, or professionally) are silenced, ostracized, and discredited. Survivors need a social context that supports the victim and that joins the victim and witness in a common alliance. On an interpersonal level this looks like family, friends, and loved ones. However, trauma is systemic and the social context mentioned above must also be given on a wider social scale. For this to be done, there had to be systemic change and political action. Jason had the interpersonal social support and witnesses to his trauma ripped from him by Bruce. So, we see him move onto a systemic level of addressing trauma in his own political way. He literally cannot escape Bruce and this constant trigger because of Bruce’s philosophy and just... fucking power to define reality... being re-enforced constantly in DC no matter where he tries to go. So, he tries to heal by taking the systemic issue of perpetrators who cannot be held accountable or have fallen through the cracks of accountability into his own hands in a very personal way. A one man political movement.

Whether his methods are moral or ethical doesn’t really matter in the overall framing him as hysteric. He simply has to be opposed by the male power fantasy in some significant way. This shows that the goals, needs, and work towards victim’s and the marginalized’s freedom is dangerous, doomed to fail, and ultimately unethical if the victim is framed in a villain light instead of the more pathetic/pitiable iteration of hysteria. 

You can see how this is not only problematic but also reflects the real world values instilled in arguments against human rights movements (which are intrinsically tied to victims rights). Defunding the police is dangerous, the MeToo movement is dangerous, abolition is dangerous, trans rights are dangerous, etc etc etc. Think of the victims voices tied to each of these movements and how they are integral to the real change offered by these political movements. You can’t have human rights violations without creating victims. And you can’t have political movements surrounding human rights without listening to victims.

We can also see how the individuals within these movements are ostracized, villianized, and often silenced (sometimes ultimately silenced with death) because they rally against the systems of power that victimized them. The framing of traumatized, vulnerable people as hysterical is integral to upholding the system of power that traumatizes and harms them.

A popular comic book movie adaptation that highlights the importance of Jason’s hysterical framing and how it impacts the political narrative/how he is written is V for Vendetta. To be fair, it received an insane amount of backlash by conservatives (not within leftist or liberal spaces) for V’s methods in over throwing fascism, but only because of the movie’s release date being so close to 9/11. V and Jason have many parallels, it’s only the lack of hysterical framing that makes V more palatable to the viewer. We are told, not shown through behavior, that V is traumatized by his past and he does not pick a fight with the protagonist that functions as a toxic male power fantasy. He is the protag, with his version of Bruce being men who are not framed in a sympathetic, heroic, or relatable light. 

Additionally, there is literally an unemoting mask standing between the viewer and V, whereas Jason takes off his helmet to allow the reader to see every aspect of his trauma and pain. V readily dehumanizes himself into an idea, rather than a person. Whereas Jason screams to be seen as a person in a very hysterical way. So, we can see how the framing of Jason as hysteric against the logical, heroic man greatly impacts how the audience reads him when contrasted by a very similar political story/character who uses similar (and arguably more violent) methods to meet his ends. (This just made me realize that I would die for a Jason adaptation written by the Wachowski sisters). 

Jason’s work as Red Hood is seeped in leftist, victim, and community centered politics. His portrayal as a hysterical antagonist (at best an anti-hero) is rooted in misogyny and upholding patriarchal, capitalist, and the prison industrial complex systems of power. He is the righteous embodiment of “the personal is political” for victims. Even his Robin run draws attention to and shows correct, angry reactions to the system of patriarchal power in sexual violence.

Patriarchal Writing and Enforcement

Jason is girl-coded and hysterical because he’s supposed to be emasculated, discredited, and disliked by the reader. He serves the narrative function of boosting the toxic male power fantasy of Bruce and in doing so, the writers use one of the oldest tropes in the book (one that we have all subconsciously been taught since birth) to get the reader on their side. Make him a hysterical woman. 

References: for anyone interested in furthering their understanding of any of the concepts mentioned above and to, you know, use sources for my own writing.

Barstow, A. Witchcraze

Bondi, L., Burman. E. Women and Mental Health: A Feminist Review

Freud, S. The Aietology of Hysteria

Gilman, C. P. The Yellow Wallpaper

Herman, J. Trauma and Recovery

Ussher, J. The Madness of Women.

Van der Kolk, B. The Body Keeps the Score

Wilkin, L., Hillock, S. Enhancing MSW Students’ Efficacy in Working with Trauma, Violence, and Oppression: An Integrated Feminist-Trauma Framework for Social Work Education

[sooinbloom]

Bookstore Kisses

pairing: kyungsoo x you

genre: established relationship, married couple, fluff

word count: 1,804

description: wednesday night is date night for you and kyungsoo. tonight, after you beg him to venture into a bookstore, he decides to show you his affection in a way he never has before.

author’s note: hi! this is just a random idea I got while in a bookstore a few months ago. I found it hanging around in my drafts and decided to publish it. also, the photo above inspired the rest… the man looks so good in a cap and glasses. what can I say?! i’m trying out a new writing style, so I hope you enjoy it. sorry, this isnt edited lol (:

- Aria

“Hey, love.” Kyungsoo says as he shuffles into the room, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “How was your day?”

“It was good, a lot of meetings but I’m very happy the day is over. How was your day?” I ask, looking up at my husband.

“Same stuff, different day. I had to tear Baekhyun away from our boss again. Something about the London account again.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and loosens his tie, “at least today is my favorite day of the week.”

“Date night!” I nod excitedly.

“Yes, baby. How about we go see a movie? We can see that one you’ve been telling me about… The cheesy romcom that you won’t shut up about with your friends?”

“Hey! Hey! Do I call your movies cheesy?” I poke Kyungsoo’s chest as he chuckles to himself.

“No, because I have actual taste.”

“Wooooow this is how you want to start date night? I see how it is!” We laugh together, one thing we never agreed on is our movie tastes. Sometimes we just enjoy the banter, other times it gets serious and hours long debates ensue over which franchise was better or which classic film was better than the other. Tonight was a bantering kind of night.

 “Oh, baby, you’re lucky I’m tired tonight. Let’s go watch the movie and then grab some dinner afterward at the Thai place we like?”

“Sounds like a plan! Let me get ready.” I get up from my chair and walk over to my closet, trying to find a cute, yet practical outfit.

Wednesday nights became my favorite night of the week. We regarded Wednesday nights as almost sacred because it was the only day of the week that we weren’t exhausted from our bleak, demanding corporate jobs. The day of the week where phone gets tucked away and the only communication we have is with each other.

Fridays were too busy for Kyungsoo, given he’s now an executive as his firm. Mondays and Tuesdays were my long days because no one can get their shit together in my office at the beginning of the week. Thursdays just weren’t good for either of us because one of us ended up working overtime and weekends were reserved for decompressing, binge watching TV and much needed naps from being exhausted throughout the week.

Wednesday became special. Wednesday became ours.

After deciding on a casual outfit, I get dressed and meet my husband in the living room as he checks showtimes on his phone. I smile to myself, he’s looking rather comfy in his joggers, hoodie and sneakers, in all black of course. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and grabs his All England Techno Club cap, standing and looking in my direction.

“Beautiful.” He manages between his smile, “ready?”

“Let’s go!” I take his hand and grab my purse from the hook by the door. It’s amazing how to this day, every Wednesday feels like our first date.

Kyungsoo cried during the movie.

I didn’t say a word, but I’ll definitely keep this in my back pocket for a more convenient time. We talked about the plot over the best Thai food in town, the same place we’ve gone since we started dating. Years have past and the owners still remember our really awkward first date. Sitting in the restaurant made me smile, all of the memories that were contained in this place, it’s special.

Once we’re done eating, we start strolling downtown, hand in hand. A certain building captures my attention and I stop walking.

“Oooo! Let’s go in the bookstore!”

“Mmmm.” Kyungsoo whines. I stop and turn to face him, pouting my lip.

“Please, please, please?” I beg.

“Okay, love, let’s go.”

“Yes!” I giddily reply.

“How lucky you are that I can’t say no to you, love.” Kyungsoo mutters in my ear as we enter the store.

I walk through the fiction section and glance across the aisle to the culinary section. My heart melted seeing my adorable husband in his cap and glasses reading an Italian cookbook. He never understood why I called him cute, but this is exactly why. His small pout as he studied the contents of the book and flipped the pages excitedly. His silver ring caught the light just so, little moments like this remind me why I married him. He’s my calm, my center of gravity, my home. I turn and pick a book up from the shelf, reading the summary on the back.

“Anything interest you, babe?” Kyungsoo appears next to me. I grin happily and nod my head.

“It’s a novel I’ve been wanting for awhile. O Beautiful by Jung Yun.” Kyungsoo opens his hands and motions his fingers toward me. I slide the book in his hand and he places it at his side. Kyungsoo takes my hand and laces our fingers together, staring intently at the shelf in front of us. He turns toward me and nods, returning his gaze to the shelf. He’d been working hard and his way of spoiling me was buying me books. He never allowed me to protest or say no. He’d just grab the book, keep it at his side and not allow me to argue that he was buying it for me. His wide eyes scan the shelves, not once did he seem remotely interested in a novel.

“Anything interest you?” I ask.

“Not one thing.” We chuckle softly and Kyungsoo pulls me to the corner of the book section. His shy gaze meets mine and he covers our faces with the book, brushing his lips on mine.

“What was that for?” I blush.

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?” He smirks. This isn’t like Kyungsoo, he’s not the kind of guy that likes PDA. Just the thought of getting caught doing something more than holding hands in public deterred him. We walked the shelves full of colorful book spines, venturing to the mid section of the store where the biographies sat. A David Sedaris novel I read in university sticks out to me. Kyungsoo tilts his head with squinted eyes. “Me Talk Pretty One Day? That doesn’t make sense.”

I giggle to myself and skim through the pages, “That’s the point, the author had a speech impediment and these essays are from his experiences going to speech therapy; and what life was like when he was a child. It truly is hilarious. Sad, but hilarious.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head and shoots me a playful look as he disappears in the romance section. I put the book back and shuffle after him, in his hands the novel Twisted Games by Ana Huang. He skims the pages quickly and eyes me carefully.

Oh no.

He’s on chapter 36.

The spiciest chapter in the whole book.

His cheeks bloom a soft pink, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“I understand why you were so flushed when I saw reading this.” He mutters. “Is this what you want?”

“H-Huh?”

“This book. Is this what you want?” Kyungsoo asks lowly.

“I own this book, Soo.” I reply carefully. He walks behind me and brings his arms around me, the book in front of me. His finger points out a sentence that makes me embarrassed to know that he saw with his own eyes.

“That wasn’t what I’m asking. Do you want what’s in this book?” Oh, boy. I fumble over my words and try to answer in the most in-public appropriate way. Kyungsoo closes the book with a laugh and hugs me close as he places it back on the shelf. “You’re so cute, Jagi.”

I turn and push his shoulder. “Kyungsoo! How is embarrassing your wife in public funny! You…” He pulls me in for a kiss with his laugh still trailing on his lips. We’re tucked away in a corner, only the books on the shelves can see what we’re doing. Kyungsoo proudly steps back and leaves a kiss on my cheek.

“You’re so cruel, Mrs. Doh. Hitting your poor, hardworking, defenseless husband like that.”

I shake my head and allow Kyungsoo to lead me upstairs to the travel section. He busies himself with a book on European travel, occasionally gazing up at me. A book on Korea caught my attention and I thumb through the pages of beautiful scenery, places Kyungsoo had told me about so often. Our jobs both had us leave our beloved countries in favor of job promotions, but The US never felt like home for either of us.

“Soo?” I whisper. His curious eyes always get bigger at the sound of his name being called, standing at full attention. I show him the pages of Seoul and his whole face lights up. “I think we should save to go to Korea. You’ve been missing home, and your mom has been begging us for months now.”

“Really? You want to go to Korea?”

“Of course, baby. It’s where you’re from. It’s part of who you are. Plus, my Korean could use some work.”

“Let’s do it, we’ll go in the spring. It will be nice to show you where I’m from.” Kyungsoo closes his book and kisses my free hand. “Every day you remind me why I’m so happy to be married to you. Even after all this time.”

“I still have no idea why you wanted to marry me.” I chuckle as Kyungsoo takes the book, holds it in front of our faces and leaves a few gentle kisses on my cheeks, nose and lips.

“Because you are like your favorite books. Beautiful on the outside, intriguing and intricately gorgeous with passion between each line. You keep my attention. You soothe me. You make me smile at the end of every day. That’s a big deal.” He softly replies, leaving a needy kiss on my lips. “You make me do things I would’ve never done with anyone else.”

“Like kissing me in corners of a bookstore?” I smirk. Kyungsoo nods and presses himself against the wall, his arms pulling me against his chest.

“Yes. Like kissing you in corners of a bookstore.” Once I feel the temperature heat up between us, I snatch the novel he’s holding from his hands and grab his hand to drag him toward the checkout counter. “Babe! Slow down!”

“After you said all that? No way. Buy me this novel and let’s go home. We have… Things to do.” I stumble through my sentence and narrow my eyes at my hysterical husband. “What?!”

“Nothing. I just love you. And all of the things we need to do.” Kyungsoo emphasizes “things” and takes his wallet out of his pocket. He purchases the book and we dart out of the store, laughing together. The workers must think we’re crazy, but we don’t care.

Wednesdays are our nights.