between writing and thinking about what to write


   i’ve been thinking about this since the beginning of this blog and finally decided to write out my view on it. 

    if you feel like i’m pushing you into a ship between sherlock and molly, i can assure you that i’m not. of course, it’s a relationship that i want to explore because i find it interesting, but i would never force you into anything you don’t want. but the thing is, if your sherlock has no interest in molly whatsoever or does have it, one thing will remain as it was in the show.

   molly loves sherlock. i cannot erase that part, make her uncaring of how sherlock behaves, feels or make her not react to his touches, softer words. it’s a big part of her as a character and making it disappear would change her radically. if you want to keep your sherlock disinterested in her that’s fine with me, but i cannot make her disinterested in sherlock. unrequited love is something i have a first hand experience off ( yes even with the object of my affections being aware of what i feel ). and i’m more than ok to keep it as unrequited between your sherlock and my molly. but erasing her feelings for the man would make me write her as out of character ( not concerning any alternative universes ) 

   in my main verse she loves sherlock, she earns for his touch or a compliment. she keeps her hopes up that maybe, maybe, someday something might happens. she waited for so long and she will keep waiting. whether it will happen or not is up to you but one thing will remain unchanging. molly will want sherlock. 

    i hope you understand that and i hope that you don’t feel like i’m forcing a ship onto you. it’s not my intentions. i’m just trying to keep molly as close to her characterization in the show as possible. 

Talking with writers online

Their stories: Amazing grammar, soaring vocabulary, beautiful imagery and prose which flows like a river.

In chats: no capitalisation or punctuation, swears like a sailor, misspellings everywhere, acronyms and abbreviations every five words, idek

Character-Building Tips

- Unopinionated characters might seem likeable or diplomatic to you, but they’re boring to the audience. Your characters may choose not to take sides in certain matters (ex. their parents’ divorce, a fight between friends, etc), but they have to believe in some things. And opinionated characters make opinionated audiences, and that means interested and emotionally-invested audiences.

- Write any scenes that stumble into your mind and enchant you, even if you think (or know) those scenes probably won’t end up in the final draft. No matter what you do with them, those scenes will still tell you something about your character(s), and that will enrich the rest of your story.

- Make risky characters. If you think your character might offend your audience or a certain part of it, write your character anyways. It could be a bad character with good views about certain subjects or vice versa, but either way it will show three-dimensionality.

- If you’re having trouble with your character being realistic or 3D, get to the root of their person. Don’t ask “what drives them as a plot device?” but “what drives them as a person?” – if you know their motivations as a person, their purpose in the plot will surface.

- Stay away from stereotypes, unless you’re writing a comedy.

Hope this helps. - @authors-haven

They asked what my favorite way to spend a lazy day was and all I could think about was you, wherever and whoever you are. So I closed my eyes, allowed myself a breath, and then I told them the truth. I am waiting for the day I can answer this with something along the lines of ‘curled between her legs and wrapped within her arms’.
The most domesticated warmth enveloping that rhythmatic beat behind my ribs.
At this time, I crave for the exploration of my life with the most striking girl I’ve ever met, so that I get the chance to spend lazy days trapped beneath comforting sheets with giggling whispers of success and fantasy.
I want our words to drip off each other’s skin as if they were paint.
We could rest within the existence of the other, reading a book together or perhaps making music, or maybe even watching tv engulfed in a wave of fluffy blankets.
If I had to say what my favorite way to spend a lazy day is, then I would say it’s well spent daydreaming about happiness. And you, whomever you may be.
—  ARH // To My Future
Some words you won’t unhear, I can’t go back to the person that I was before I hurt you and things will be slightly different between us.

So please, if you’re reading or listening to the songs of the trees and the birds, know that just like early morning– you’re the very definition of home to me, somewhere lost between the morning daze and the highlight gaze
you sang to me.

So please, if you’re never going to forgive me properly at least tell me that what we had was once real and if you could just know that I write these words not as another apology, but as a means that I still think about you when the sun goes down and the moon arrives with another poem to write.

So please, if you’re with someone else some day, just try to forget about the emotional abuse that I put you through, I don’t really know myself, so of course I was going to fuck things up between us, you always were the softer parts of me, the way your lips liked to say my name as we’re arguing with a how could you to amplify the anger that won’t subside with a simple goodbye or a slam at the door.

So please, if you’re alone and drunk, just know that I’m probably doing the same thing. We won’t call and we won’t text, two strangers with a hunger for one another, but we won’t ever meet again and I love you seems to be ripped from page to page, but you’re still my favorite kind of regret. I’m so sorry that we had to end up like this.

So please, I know that we’re still together, but if you ever want out just read these words and take them with you. To the highest mountains, you can burn this letter and let our apologies scatter all over the forest floor. To the bottom of the ocean, I’ll play you the saddest song and I’ll call it blue. I’ll name your eye colors after my favorite thing, I’ll name our love after our favorite song, I’ll name these scars without a blame, I hope that one day we’ll love with the lightness that was us, and if we don’t, and if I don’t and if you don’t remember us, that’s okay. I can live with this, I have to live with this.

So please, if you pick up this letter while I’m sleeping right next to you and you’re reading it with the lights dimmed down just so that I won’t wake up, don’t go through the drawers because there will be more where this came from, I leave letters everywhere for you, one for every mood, maybe you’ll find them all some day, you’ve always been the collector type, collect these unhappy days, but always pride yourself on keeping our happy days. The sun will be up in a few minutes, go make some coffee and pretend that you never read this letter. Put it back. Place my favorite book on top of it, pretend that you didn’t know about those scattered letters, pretend that you don’t know my true intentions, pretend that it doesn’t hurt, pretend that we’re going to make it through this, because I promise, I’ll be doing the same and if you bring it up–

why baby, I didn’t write a thing.
you’re just in a dream,
just like how we were
when we first met
and shared that
first kiss and getting
the same tattoo
on the same heart
that said

how did we end up like this?
—  so please, a letter you’ll promise that you didn’t touch, a letter that you’ll swear you didn’t know existed, and if you did happen to find it while we’re happy, it never happened, burn it.
A Lesson in Love (Deleted Scenes)

Hello to any and every radiant human being reading this. I hope this week has been treating you well because that’s exactly what you all deserve.

After some back and forth, I have finally decided that I’m going to be writing deleted scenes for “A Lesson in Love”.

What this means: I want y'all to let me know if there are any scenarios you can think of that didn’t happen in the story that you want to see written. In my head, there are so many more things that have happened between the reader and Bucky that I didn’t get the chance to write. Stuff that has further solidified the reason why the reader is feeling the way she is about Bucky and maybe vice versa? Requests can include other characters as well! 

Keep reading

A Quiet Night at Dreyar House
Duke Dreyar, 20, Duchess Heartfilia, 16, and Secretary Freed, 18.

tfw you’re too lazy to write the fic but you find time to draw the fanart

Here’s a little scene from the FT Riverside AU that I’m still struggling to actually write haha. I’m really fond of the interesting relationship between Laxus, Freed and Lucy in this fic, so here’s a really short sneak peek.

Laxus lounged on the divan, gazing boredly at the fireplace, while Freed sat on the lush carpet by his feet, busy reading a book. Lucy had tucked herself on the other end of the couch, up until then a quiet observer.

She wondered what Laxus was thinking about, with a face frowning so intently like that. Freed didn’t seem to notice - or if he did, he preferred to leave his master to his thoughts.

Maybe she should do the same. But Lucy could never really keep still in these moments, still too restless from the day’s events to go to bed.

“Laxus?” she asked softly. Laxus slowly turned his head to look at her.

Proper etiquette would be for him to at least ask ‘Yes, Lucy?’ but proper etiquette was never a concern for Duke Dreyar. And anyway, Lucy’s mere presence in the house, at a place and time like this (and in her nightgown to boot) was hardly proper in the first place.

“Is magic real?”

Freed looked up this time, blinking up at her, and then looking at Laxus.

“Why are you asking me, of all people?”

“You’ve been to Alvarez.” she said. “To Vistarion. You once went with your grandfather to visit, right?”

He thought about it for a while. “I was ten.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Their Prince breathes fire.”

Lucy’s eyes widened in wonder. “Fascinating.”

“You believe me?”

“Why not? Are you making it up?”

Laxus opened his mouth to speak, but he looked down when Freed gently leaned against the side of his leg. The young man didn’t say anything, but his lips quirked in a smile. Laxus frowned. “Not you too.”

“Of course him too.” Lucy insisted, and shifted just a tiny bit closer. “Do you remember others?“

“Yes. A bit.”

“Tell us!”

Laxus sighed. Then, he told them.

The fic is a dump of several little scenes right now, but I’m working slowly but surely on it! Will keep you guys posted when I finally put something up!

as someone who writes and draws the difference between them is so wild to me

like writing takes a certain level of critical engagement with what you’re doing, because you need to be thinking about what’s going on and what’s coming up next at the same time, and also how to negotiate syntax, word choice, detail levels, etc; e.g., you really can’t do it when you’re tired

vs drawing/art - while it’s by no means easier and in a lot of ways more difficult - can be done without as much cognitive interaction? it relies more on muscle memory, for one thing, and while you’re not going to make your best art when you’re tired, you can still do it

tldr, visual arts and writing are equally difficult forms of art that seem to require different parts of the brain

One day I want to sit down with my favourite writers and give them lots of alcohol and be like “this is going to be a fucked up conversation, but let’s talk about thinking and writing.”

I desperately want to know what goes on in other people’s heads, especially when they’re writing. Is it mechanical? Organic? Are you plotting and scripting and drawing things up like an architect? Or are you having a blazing row with some asshole that is swearing he would never say the words you are trying to convince him are essential to a scene? Is it somewhere between? Are you a god, bending the world to your will? Or do you feel like you are the tool (ha!) with minimal input of your own? Do you deal with words and the characters follow? Or characters and the words follow?

I have so many questions about so many things. This isn’t even scratching the surface. I am dying to know.

Light’s Out

I couldn’t stop thinking about this post by @wings-and-pies so I had to write it. Hey, write what you want to read, right?  It’s a little fluffy. Let me know what you think.

I keep rereading and tweaking.  But I think I’m done now.

I’m new to the whole fic writing game.  So I’m not sure what all i need to include here.  But it’s about 2200 words. 

It happened for the first time in the bunker library.  Mary had come back a few weeks before.  Things had been tense between the Winchesters, with Mary and Dean especially.  Dean knew that Mary hadn’t meant to hurt them.  But man, had it hurt.  He’d been so scared to hope she’d actually come back.  But she WAS back, and that was the most important thing.  So they’d been working on it.  Working on being a family again and slowly, slowly the rift was healing.  

Dean must have been sitting at that stupid table staring at that stupid computer screen for hours searching for leads  It seemed like every time they turned around those British bastards were screwing things up.  He heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face and pressing his palm into his forehead right between the brows to relieve the headache that was building there. His eyes burned.  But hey, no rest for the wicked, right? 

Keep reading

Well, that was lovely.

I believe the last straight up shounen-ai anime I watched was Gravitation, years and years ago, and that led me to certain expectations re which narrative space the tall, steel-gray older man was going to inhabit, but I think what we can all respect about this show in the end was that while the, y’know, romantic attraction between human beings bit was important, it was nowhere near as important as the ICE SKATING

And in fact, every element of that attraction, problematic or divine - the hesitancy, the difficulties in communication, the rivalry, the jealousy, the misunderstandings, the power imbalance - they all existed as mechanisms by which to enhance the ICE SKATING, explicitly -

Which had the immense, salutary knock-on effect that nobody ended up wanting to control anybody else, or destroy anybody else, or keep anybody else entirely for themselves, on account of the deleterious effect such activity would most likely have on their ICE SKATING

Because while these men may have wanted on a very real level to fuck, marry or kill each other, these feelings were kept in healthy perspective - acknowledged as important, precious, maybe even timeless, but known to be useful primarily in the construction, maintenance and perfection of certain moments, moments written in archimedean parabolae along the four-dimensional coordinate space of art, desire, labor and time, in utter futile and disutile dedication to that endeavor which transcends human purpose and therefore embodies our utmost humanity -

i.e., ice skating.

anonymous asked:

I have a character who is being held captive and tortured occasionally. Any tips for writing what the character is thinking/feeling between those moments? (Besides "ow" that is). If it affects anything, there are a couple of people who are trying to rescue her, but she's not sure they know how to find her/save her.

Torture Scenes

When I really thought about this, I realized that I don’t honestly have that much experience writing scenes like this. I suppose if I were to write the in-betweens of a character being tortured, I would definitely describe the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty, and maybe the regrets of how the character ended up in that position to begin with. 

But then, when the character has been quiet and alone for a long time, I might interject some reflection. The character remembering the last time they saw various people in their lives, or thinking back on the most scared they’d ever felt and comparing it to this. When things get really bad, I might write the character remembering something good that might have happened - a pleasant memory of someone or something that makes them feel good, if even for a brief moment. 

The reason I suggest using memories, is because memories are the best cheat there is for a static scene. When your characters are unable to go anywhere or do anything, having them remember something creates a scene within a scene, and it has dialogue, it has movement, suspense (even the most mundane things can be suspenseful if they’re unpredictable). These also serve to be introspective turning points for the character, which is great to show growth in them. 

Having said all that, I highly recommend you read this post I found through tag searching some of my favorite writing blogs. It has some great information, including some brilliant insight about researching the method of torture you’re using. They also provide some other informative links that could help.


The more I learn about writing, it feels like, the slower I write. Because, like, in the beginning I just flew on instinct, which mostly worked fairly well really, probably because of the fairly large amount of very good fantasy writing I’ve read and subconsciously metabolized over the years. I had an idea what constitutes good writing and sometimes reproduced it almost by luck.

But now I begin to have an understanding of the actual moving pieces involved, the mechanics behind the good writing, so instead I’m thinking about everything, sometimes to exhaustion or despair. It’s the difference between “Okay so Mamma made stew like this so let’s try that” and “Alright, so the Maillard reaction takes x seconds to take place given a sear temperature of x, but my stove is slow so I’ll have to compensate by….” And if that second version seems like I just put WAY too much thought into browning stew beef, then yeah, that’s exactly the problem. My stew IS better than my mom’s, and my writing IS better than it was, but DANG.

For example, the current problem–which is also the usual problem: what belongs in a chapter? What makes it this chapter, and not another? Why are these events a unit? What’s the conflict I’m pushing, the question that I’m asking and answering that makes this chapter its own thing? What’s the rhyme? And does that include all the setup I’m going to want in later chapters, because this is published episodically, and going back is not a great option. What do I need readers to take away, and how do I make that artful?

Yeah, so, I get stuck. :P

Between the Stacks (John Laurens x Reader)

Pairing: Laurens x Reader

Summary: Yet another college AU, because I write what I know. Mostly fluff at this point.  Reader is Peggy’s roommate.

A/N: ???? I dunno, what do you guys think?

The library was almost dead. Friday night was not usually the time you would choose to study, but this paper was important.  For your grades, yes, but also for your pride. You wanted your professor to write a letter of recommendation for an internship, and she had high standards.  The topic you had chosen necessitated lots of research, and you were just about ready to start writing. You picked out three books that you thought would support your thesis, and sat down in the aisle to flip through them.

Someone moved on the other side of the bookshelf, and you had to stop yourself from shouting.  The books in your lap had been obscuring a curly head of hair.  Whoever it was looked to be deep in focus, so you kept quiet, gathering information. When you were ready to move to a table, you peeked around the corner at the stranger.  He was not focusing. He was sleeping.  

Keep reading

the start of a writing experiment: 


There is a story passed down through the generations, a story of two boys and two girls who came and freed a land with the help of a lion and who disappear, later, when everything had been shiny and bright.

They are a story.

It’s a lovely story, told by rabbits to their litters and horses to their foals. Even children are meant for mighty things, mothers tell their children as they drift away into sleep. And we must be faithful, like they were faithful, and wait.


The details are lost along the way.

There is just High King Peter and Queen Susan the Gentle and King Edmund and Queen Lucy.

Just distant names reminiscent of a golden time, of openness and freedom and joy, of war and struggle and victory. There are no faces to the names.

There never were those Kings and Queens, the Telmarines later say. They abandoned us, the angry later accuse (and there is such truth in the anger that the faithful cannot argue except in silence.) There are just names.


Aslan, they whisper across the white mountains and through green valleys. AslanAslanAslan.

Did you know they used to see him? Did you know he once was here? Did you know the Mighty Four won because of him?

Yes, someone responds. That’s what the legends say.


They will come again, the story goes. When they are most needed.

How could we need them more, is what the faithful refuse to utter.




High King Peter was brave and bold, kindhearted and jovial. He was sun’s golden radiance and the favored, chosen king.

Queen Susan was beautiful and dedicated, gentle and tender. She was the peaceful, flowing breeze and the forever adored.

King Edmund was wise and witty, forgiving and fierce. He was the steady Narnian earth and Aslan’s redeemed.

Queen Lucy was bright and kind, unafraid and dedicated. She was the crashing waves and the human lioness.

(they repeat this until it is what every child knows. these were your kings and queens, parents say. remember them. remember them. do not forget them.)


later, when the kings and queens have come back again, not to restore the past but to establish the future, a badger says, I’m a beast, I am. We don’t change. And we beasts remember.

He doesn’t bother saying what came before, the steady repetition, the faithful recollection. It is not just that they remembered; it is that they refused to forget.

The kings arrive in a moment of desperation and reckoning, almost too late, and two sentinels (two badgers) greet them with two words: at last, they say, at last.

(we beasts remember, the badger says, and his kin answers: at last. we knew you would come.)


They remembered, Edmund thinks later, but what did they remember? That we were saviors, that our age was golden, that we were great.

We were just kids, he tells Susan, and she nods her head once, quickly, before turning away.

We didn’t know what we were doing, he reminds Peter, and he taps his left index finger on the table, once, twice, before saying, but we tried our best.

They didn’t understand how hard it was, he whispers to Lucy, and she brushes her hand through his hair, once, twice, three times, and whispers back but Aslan always came.

eta: finished producta tale of the faithful 


A drunk!Dean x Reader / fluff

A/N: This is just a quick drabble I whipped up in between writing WTSE and my new John smut. I’ve been wanting to write this ever since I saw the gifs I’m going to include, but totally forgot about it until now. I have a raging hard on for drunk!Dean so, enjoy this. Lemme know what you think! xo

Word Count: 733

- language (maybe not?)
- mention of drinking and driving (DO  NOT DO THIS)
- long haired Dean (like demon!Dean haired Dean, yeah…)
- talk of smut at the end.

Tags: @balthazars-muse @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @theerinpage @bovaria @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @kayteonline @salvachester @leatherandwinchesters @sandlee44 @pada-ackles @stephizzle94

*gifs are not mine.

You slowly crept into your bedroom, trying your best not to make any sudden loud noises. Knowing you, as clumsy as you were, you expected to stub your toe on something that wasn’t there. Mentally congratulating yourself that you managed to stay upright as you approached the bed, you looked over Dean sleeping peacefully across your comforter. He had shown up at your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, piss drunk, begging for you to let him inside.

Keep reading

I don’t know how it is for other people, but when I write a story, I never do it chronologically correct. I don’t start at the beginning - I start in the middle, at the end, in between, whatever idea I had first. Then I start thinking - what else is going to happen in this story? And once I got an idea, I write it down before or after the scene(s) I’ve already written. In the end, I just piece everything together and make sure that it fits and makes sense.

I’m basically not writing, I’m solving a puzzle. Which actually makes me laugh when I think about it.

anonymous asked:

Hi there! Do u write fics? I was thinking about 707’s route and I love fics about the time MC and him were in the apartment, I love all that tension! I was wondering if I could get a fic where MC has a douche ex-boyfriend who keeps calling her and she is very uncomfortable, Seven notices and wants to help, but he’s trying to stay away from her and all that. What do u think?

Hello! I never tried writing fics because, tbh, my english is not that good and my vocabulary is a little limited, so I’m always worried it’ll come out poorly written. However… one of the reasons I started writing was to improve my English after all, and yeah, I’m also a sucker for the tension between MC and Saeyoung in Rika’s apartment, not gonna lie. So… I’ll try and let’s see how it goes?

FIC: MC and Seven dealling with MC’s abusive ex-boyfriend

TW: Contain mentionings about abusive behavior

He was calling for the fifth time now, jeez, couldn’t he get the hint? You didn’t want to talk with him, you even avoided talking about him with your friends ever since the break-up. It’s been 2 and a half weeks, the first one was pure hell, you felt guilty, you wanted to apologize and try to understand his side.  You must have done something wrong, you didn’t give him enough attention, enough love? That’s why he cheated on you? And the way you took revenge on him… oh my god, you were so cruel! Locking him outside the apartment only in his underwear? Did you really need to lower yourself to this level?

Then, you downloaded a weird app and were led to this apartment. Being in some strangers’ place didn’t seem the best idea at first, but it really surprised you how much this situation helped you resist the urge of swallowing your pride and crawling to him to apologize for something you were right from the beginning. And things got even clearer in your head when you started chatting with those really interesting people, specially the redhead one.

He was easy to talk, he was able to get your weird jokes (your ex would just scold you for saying nonsense) and he sounded so caring and sweet in a very unique way. Even now, when he was sharing the apartment with you, being rude and distant, you could still see how much he was worried about you, he wasn’t being mean or trying to nag you just to make you feel insecure about yourself and run to him, you know, like those gross pick-up artists do, like your ex boyfriend did.

You didn’t have much time to think about him, you were trapped with a bomb and another guy who was struggling with so many problems in his life, your break-up seemed … futile. But it probably wasn’t futile for your ex, so he kept calling over and over. And you didn’t want to pick up, you didn’t want to listen to any shitty excuse he could possibly come up with, and, most important, you didn’t want Seven to hear you.

Seven noticed you were tense that day, generally you were always bubbly and talked a lot even when he didn’t answer. Today you were pacing back and forth in the bedroom, and he couldn’t remind the last time you actually said something to him. Did you finally understand you had to keep your distance from him? Well, that was a relief… wasn’t it?

But why such a sudden change? This was nothing like you… being tense and quiet, not trying to make him eat with you or just hang with you a little, were you finally done? This was the right thing, but… why was he feeling empty? He was… missing your attention? Missing you?

“Hey” he went to you in the bedroom. You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t notice him at first. “MC?”

“Y-yes, do you need something, Seven?”

“No, I was… just checking if you were awake.”

“Well, I am. Something else?” you didn’t mean to be rude, but it came out that way, you were sooo tense.

“Oh no… sorry to bother you, it won’t happen again. Just… go eat something.”

“ Yeah, yeah” you didn’t even look at him, you were staring at your phone, texting one of your friends and trying to ask her to talk to your ex for him to leave you alone. You felt so bad for not dealing with your own shit, but you really didn’t want Seven listening to this, seeing how pathetic you are over this guy.

“So, go now, MC. Don’t skip your meals just beca…”

“Just because you are, yeah, yeah, I know, you’ve already told me that.” You interrupted him and went to the kitchen. Seven was puzzled, this was nothing like you at all, so he followed you to the kitchen. “C-Can I help you, Seven?” his golden eyes were analyzing you, could he actually see right through you?

“I’ll just eat with you, I mean, I’ll just sit and eat while you are eating too.“

“Alright”.  Now he was scared, did he cross some line? That’s why you sounded so mad?

That was an awkward meal, both of you staring your food, he gave quick glances to you, you looked so worried… and then you looked scared when you heard your phone ringing in the bedroom. You ran like a bolt, turned it off and went back to the kitchen,  gasping and shaking a little. Okay, this was hella suspicious!

“MC, are you okay?”

“Sure.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Why do you care, Seven? You said yourself that nothing concerning how I feel was of your business!” Oh shit! You immediately regretted your words.

“Yes, but… you look all tense and worried, it’s because of the bomb? I already changed the algorithm, so don’t worry.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“But you’re not! The way you ran to your phone just now…” And something clicked into his mind. “Wait! Is… my brother calling you?”

“What? No! No, of course not! I would… I would tell you right away if he did, Seven!” now you were staring at him, he could tell you were not lying.

“So what is it? Is Jumin trying to pressure you to reveal the address?”

“No! It’s nothing about RFA, I-I swear! It’s personal…but it’s no big deal, I’m already on it and… well, not as if you cared, right?” You had to stop talking about this before he found out.

“Yes, of course… sorry to be nosy.” He looked down, and just when you thought it was over, he quickly grabbed your phone, you were shocked. “Hey! What-what are you doing?”

“Something is off with you! And I… hate to see you like this, I… can’t focus if something’s wrong with you…”

“But you can’t just take my phone like this!”

“Well, I hacked into it once, right? I can do it again, at least I’m doing this in front of you”

“Seven, please, don’t…” you felt your voice breaking as he unlocked the phone “Trust me and let it go…”

“Who’s this guy and why did he call you the whole day?” He thought and remembered this name in your background check, he used to be your boyfriend. “Oh… I get it now.”

“Seven…” you felt warm tears roll down in your face. “It’s not what you thinking… it’s…”

“You broke up a couple weeks before you joined the RFA, right? I saw you changed the status on your fb page… Is he bothering you?”

“I’m already on it, don’t worry.”

“It seems to me you’re just avoiding him. Is he bothering you?”

You didn’t have to answer, the phone started ringing again, your eyes widened and you kept looking to Seven, nodding negatively for him to not pick up.

“Hello?” but he picked up.

“Huh? Who’s this? Where’s MC?”

“MC is very busy right now, would you like to leave a message?” he was talking like a secretary, you’d definitely be laughing if this wasn’t such an awful situation.

“Who are you, dude?”

“I’m MC’s personal concierge, sir. What can I do for you?” Seven put the call on speaker so you could hear it too.

“Huh? Personal what? Are you her new boyfriend? I knew that bitch was on to something when she disappeared, God…” you felt your breath stop, that tone was so familiar, but he never called you a bitch, at least not to your face.

“Now, sir, this is not very polite, is it? If you don’t have anything meaningful to say, I’ll just…”

“Tell that slut that she got some nerves making me look like a fool in front of the entire neighborhood. And bouncing to another dick already… god, my friends warned about her.”

“Well, your friends should’ve warned you about never talking about a lady like this. Since they didn’t, I am warning you. Oh, I’m also warning you if you keep bothering her, I’ll dig up your whole life and make it a living hell, you got me?”

“Are you threatening me? You a gangsta or what? What is this bitch doing with her life?”

“Okay, that’s it!” Seven went to his computer, typed something really fast. You kept watching this whole scene as if it wasn’t happening to you, like you were an outsider seeing the man you once loved showing his ugliest side to the man you love now. Everything was so confusing. “Oh, I see here you have very strong opinions about immigrants and refugees, right, sir? And you also enjoy pick up artists forums… I wonder if the company you work for share these values,  wouldn’t be interesting sending your internet history to your boss?”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Oh, and those photos of you in underwear on the street… priceless! What could I do to those? A lot is coming to my mind…”

“Stop, dude! Or I’ll”

“Or you’ll leave MC alone and never look for her again, right? Or else I’ll leak everything in a matter of seconds. MC is a smart, adorable and amazing woman, and you don’t even deserve a chance to apologize to her so just get lost! Take this as an opportunity to learn how to respect women, your asshole! Now, if you’ll excuse me, MC’s gonna bounce to a dick, apparently.” He hang up, and your mouth was fully open in a shocked state. “That will keep him away, ok? Don’t worry anymore.”

“Seven…” what could you possibly say right now? Seven was so scary, and yet so… interesting and a little funny to watch, your ex’s voice getting lower like a whisper, you could feel him breaking and realizing he had nowhere to hide, no threats to make, no way to make you feel powerless and fragile. And this man in front of you… oh God! You loved his strength, his fierceness, the way he could make you feel like this amazing woman, how he would fight for you even when he has so many problems right now… you loved him so much!

Telling him right now would be so inappropriate, right? You wanted to rush over him, give him the tightest hug and kiss him till he could feel all your passion and desire for him. But you couldn’t, so you came closer to him, gave him a quick and innocent kiss in his cheek and whispered a “thank you”, then you just leaned your head on his chest.

He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat speeding up, at least you couldn’t see him blushing. He wanted to pull you for a hug, but he knew how you would understand that, he didn’t deserve you or your kindness… protecting you from awful men like that was the only thing he could do, but if you could see how awful he was himself… you wouldn’t be here so close like that, resting your head oh him, showing your most brilliant side to him, he didn’t deserve your brilliant side at all… so he awkwardly gave you two pats on your back.

“Be careful of men from now on, I won’t be here to help you forever.” And he pulled you away from him, resisting the needing of look deeply into your eyes.

“I will.” And you headed to the bedroom.

“Hey, MC?”

“Yes, Seven?”

“Did you really lock him outside your building on his underwear?”

“Yes, I did. So watch out! Try not to get on my bad side too much, okay?”

And you turned your back on him. If only you two could see how much you both were smiling right now…

fathomless-a  asked:

How about Jughead and Betty having a date in the woods and suddenly the whole gang shows up and ruined their romantic date? 😬🙊

CHARACTERS: Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews, Kevin Keller
TIME FRAME: After S01E07
LOCATION: The woods
SUMMARY: Betty & Jughead plan a date in the woods, but the entire gang follows them and thus ends up ruining their date.
NOTES: I had so much fun writing this one! I’m always critical about my writing and never end up liking anything I write, but I rather like the connection between the beginning and the ending of this one. I hope readers enjoy this one shot as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, tell me what you think. Don’t hesitate to request and send in more prompts!

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