#I love authors! they give us such great work! I’m so grateful I get to read fics!

[letstrywritingmaybe]

I’m so pro fic authors that I get real annoyed when I see a shit comment. It always makes me want to double down and write a similar fic in solidarity. I’m obviously really picky and hate a lot of things, but I don’t go criticizing in the comments. I exit the fic like a normal person and move on, cause that fic wasn’t written for me and that’s okay. I just don’t understand why this is such a difficult concept to people. The world doesn’t revolve around you, fics sure as hell don’t cater to you. Write your own and stop being an asshole

[sebscore]

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race. 

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice. 

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month. 

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind. 

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence. 

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.'' 

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.'' 

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment. 

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming. 

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.'' 

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong. 

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie. 

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern. 

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place. 

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him. 

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced. 

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath. 

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression. 

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team. 

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss. 

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit. 

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her. 

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch. 

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep. 

''Only on track.'' He winked. 

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend. 

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet. 

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.'' 

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath. 

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.'' 

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note. 

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results. 

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it. 

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth. 

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window. 

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him. 

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.'' 

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further. 

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.'' 

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal. 

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said. 

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.'' 

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.'' 

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.'' 

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air. 

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them. 

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face. 

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position. 

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face. 

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''. 

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones. 

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.'' 

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up. 

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face. 

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly. 

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act. 

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath. 

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in. 

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself. 

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence. 

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries. 

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat. 

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses. 

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her. 

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.'' 

''Like what?'' 

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing. 

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her. 

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.'' 

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.'' 

''Like Netflix?'' 

''A bunch of cunts.'' 

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair. 

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back. 

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned. 

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.'' 

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.'' 

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up. 

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year. 

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness. 

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.'' 

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room. 

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone. 

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around. 

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.'' 

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance. 

''How's that going?'' 

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off. 

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?'' 

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice. 

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation. 

''Okay.'' 

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off. 

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them. 

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her. 

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.'' 

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.'' 

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.'' 

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.'' 

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer. 

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.'' 

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?'' 

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned. 

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.'' 

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.'' 

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder. 

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues. 

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.'' 

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.'' 

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both. 

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.'' 

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

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[livingformintyoongi]

🪷: Our Jimin and for the AU.... he works at an animal shelter and MC volunteered once- or she was supposed to- but she finds herself there anytime she's free these days

Just Another Good Deed | Park Jimin

Author’s note: Hello, my dearest husband's partner! Thank you so much for making the request, I really loved the idea <3 I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it ^^ (Really my favorite part was the moodboard, I loved it, patted myself on the back and everything). Pairing: Veterinarian!Jimin x Volunteer!Reader Word count: 1.8k Warnings/tags: Little appearance of big brother Yoongi because he is my bias wrecker and if I can get him in, I will :), and that's all, it's all very fluffy. Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthoughts Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You glanced one last time at the rearview mirror in Yoongi’s car, adjusting your hair for the fourth time. It was hard to decide which side looked better.

"Yoongi, quick, which looks better? Over my ears or tucked behind them?" you turned to him, arranging your hair both ways so he could carefully consider his options.

“It looks the same to me,” he mumbled in the same monotone voice he used, well, almost every day he spent time with you. “Besides, why does it matter? We’re going to an animal shelter, not a double date.”

You rolled your eyes, finally deciding on leaving your hair over your ears; it framed your face more beautifully, and the soft waves made it stand out even more that way. “I can look nice for the shelter if I want to. I don’t need some hidden agenda, you know?”

Ignoring your comment, Yoongi pulled out his car keys and stepped out. You weren’t surprised to see him coming around to your side of the car to open the door and help you out. Your brother might have been a man of very few words—and expressions—but your mom had raised him to be a true gentleman.

“Alright, come on, let’s move. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” you grabbed his arm and pulled him along, slightly slowing his pace as you approached the entrance. Just a few more steps, and you’d see him again. You had to bite the inside of your lip to stop yourself from smiling too soon.

Yoongi, keeping up with your pace with his usual calm expression, couldn’t help but notice the strange look on your face. He could understand you wanting to dress up to go out—that was fine, everyone liked to look good—but the fact that you’d been smiling the whole way here and that you’d been visiting this shelter every week—or any chance you got—made him think that maybe...

“Oh! Y/N, it’s you,” a cheerful voice said. The man wore a white shirt and black jeans—a terrible choice for working with animals, but that wasn’t his problem, so he ignored it. His dark hair fell gracefully over his forehead, and his plump lips gave him a sweet image that would definitely charm any woman—or man—who crossed his path.

Now everything made sense.

“Jimin, hi!” you quickly let go of Yoongi’s arm, giving the man in front of you the brightest smile you could muster. “It’s so nice to see you here—I mean, obviously you’re here, you work here, but you know, it’s always great running into you,” you said awkwardly, ending with a nervous laugh.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were the strangest creature in the world. It was the first time he’d seen you so nervous around a guy, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or get mad. What was a big brother supposed to do in these situations? Get jealous?

“Likewise, it’s really great to see you here so often. I’m grateful to have someone like you supporting the shelter,” Jimin said with a soft, charming smile. If you hadn’t been holding onto your brother’s arm, you might have collapsed right there. Were you being dramatic? Absolutely. Were you lying about it? Absolutely not. His simple gaze already made your legs weak, and his smile? Don’t even mention it.

The small gesture of your hands wrapped around Yoongi’s arm immediately caught Jimin’s attention. You’d never mentioned having a boyfriend, and you’d never come to the shelter with someone before. It was only natural to be curious, right? “And… who’s he...?”

“Yoongi,” your brother answered, straightening his back to appear taller and lowering his voice a few tones deeper than usual. “I’m her older brother. And you are?”

“Oh, sorry, how rude of me,” Jimin gave a slight bow before returning to his original stance, not without first running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. Yoongi swore he heard you squeal. “I’m Park Jimin. I work here.”

“Yoongi, why don’t you go check out the cats?” you laughed nervously, wishing your brother would disappear so you could be alone with Jimin. “I heard Unnie mention she’d really like to have a cat at home.”

“She said that?” Yoongi turned to you so quickly that it startled you; you knew his girlfriend was his soft spot, and you would use it against him as often as necessary if it meant he would drop his overprotective older brother act. Plus, you knew enough about his girlfriend to be sure she’d love to have a cat.

“Yes, she says it all the time,” you nodded quickly, pushing him toward where you knew the cats were. You hoped that would keep him distracted for a few minutes. “Now go, hurry, don’t waste time.”

Both you and Jimin watched as Yoongi walked off, confused, looking for someone he could ask about the cats. Only when he disappeared from your sight did you turn back to Jimin.

“So… how can I help today?” you asked with a smile, feeling your chest flutter as he looked at you with those kind, gentle eyes. You probably needed to calm down if you didn’t want to get caught just yet.

“I didn’t know you had a brother; I thought he was your boyfriend or something,” Jimin said softly, chuckling as he watched the cat in front of them shake itself vigorously to get the water off its fur. It was cute—its coat was light-toned, and its blue eyes were so bright and big that it was impossible not to fall in love with it. This little cat had arrived at the shelter the same day you did; it was skittish, wouldn’t let anyone touch or feed it, and it was crucial to give it a check-up due to a possible infection in its left eye. Jimin had been the only one able to keep it calm and treat it properly so the infection could heal effectively.

Maybe that was the moment when you fell for him. There was something about the sweet and caring way he handled animals that made your heart race and your stomach churn.

“Well, I don’t talk much about my family when we’re together,” you said with a slight smile, preparing the towel to cover the cat and dry it. It was still cold outside, and it wasn’t ideal for the cat to get sick at this time of year.

“I’d like to know more about them,” he murmured softly, gently cleaning the cat’s ears. The cat—who still didn’t have an official name but whom you had called Taemin in your mind from day one—closed its big eyes and started purring, rubbing its head against Jimin’s soft touch. Ah, how much you wished you were a cat. “And more about you in general.”

You turned to look at him, feeling a wave of warmth rise to your face as you realized he had been looking at you all along. Damn Park Jimin, why did he have to be so handsome? You felt like throwing the stupid towel in his face.

“O-oh, really? Why would you want that? I mean, my life’s not that interesting and—”

“But I’m interested,” he said, taking the towel from your hands and letting his fingers brush against yours in a way that definitely wasn’t accidental. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time, and his damn lips were curved into a smile the whole time.

Calm down, Y/N, you can’t just go around kissing people without their permission—that’s not okay.

“Anything that has to do with you interests me. I thought that was obvious by now,” he said. After an intense staring match—which he obviously won—he wrapped Taemin in the towel and picked him up in his arms, one hand holding the cat’s weight to cradle him like a baby while the other rested on his furry head.

“Well, no, it wasn’t,” you replied awkwardly, trying to fully process whatever he was trying to tell you. Wasn’t it a bit presumptuous to think that meant he wanted something more with you? Had being single finally driven you crazy, making you see things that weren’t there? “Just so there’s no misunderstanding…” You rubbed your hands against your pants and looked at him expectantly. “Does that mean that…?”

Jimin let out a laugh before looking at you with his eyes turning into crescents from his smile. “It means I’d love to finally get your number.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Y-yes! Sure, g-give me your phone, and I’ll write it down right now,” you said, extending your hands toward him, trying to stop them from trembling so much and revealing how nervous you were. Too bad your body never obeyed your brain.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and handing it to you. His constant gaze on you made you even more nervous. You had to rewrite your number more than four times because you kept making mistakes. Both of you smiled when you called your number from his phone, and your ringtone sounded almost instantly.

Oh, shit. You had his number now.

“Y/N, let’s go!” Yoongi’s voice called from a few meters away. You were genuinely surprised to see that he actually had a small carrier in his hands, from which you could see two tiny green eyes staring at you from the darkness inside.

Its gaze looked a lot like Yoongi’s.

“Well, I guess you have to go,” Jimin said, adjusting Taemin in his arms as he watched Yoongi waiting for you near the exit. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to leave yet, but he understood he wasn’t in a position to ask you to stay, especially since you had come with your brother.

“Yeah, it seems like it,” you murmured, glancing briefly at your brother before putting all your attention back on Jimin. He had indirectly said he liked you, at least a little, right? And you had known each other for quite some time now… Well, you only live once, and you didn’t like living with regrets. You stepped closer to him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek—quite close to his lips—before stepping back and waving softly to say goodbye.

Then, you ran toward your brother as fast as you could, internally hoping he wouldn’t mention anything about it.

Ah, if only you had taken the time to notice Jimin’s face, you would have seen the bright pink covering his cheeks and the embarrassed smile spreading across his face like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

At least Yoongi had the luck to witness it, and he would definitely tease you endlessly about it.

Masterlist

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY TALKING ABOUT KING AEGON II TARGARYEN FOR MAGAZINE UPROXX.

AEGON IS EQUAL PARTS DANGEROUS AND PATHETIC THIS SEASON. WHICH TRAIT DID YOU LEAN INTO MORE?

"I really wanted to find every color possible to his palette."

"I wanted to make him as intricate and as complex as he deserves, I think."

"And yeah, we see lots of different flavors."

"We see a vulnerability to him this time."

"We see desperation."

"I think people can call him a villain as much as they want."

"I think he thinks he’s a tragedy — just a desperately sad story in a physical form."

THERE ARE SO MANY AEMOND APOLOGISTS, BUT WHO'S REPPING FOR AEGON?

"This has been the story his entire life."

"He’s seen as weak, he’s seen as pathetic."

"Just someone give him a hug for crying out loud!"

AEGON CERTAINTLY HAS A BIGGER ROLE TO PLAY THIS SEASON WHICH REQUIRES MORE FROM YOU THAN IN SEASON ONE. WERE THERE ANY SCENES/MOMENTS YOU WERE UNSURE ABOUT TRANSLATING FROM THE SCRIPT TO THE SCREEN?

"Every scene I did, I didn’t know how it was going to pan out, and that’s kind of the way I like to go about playing Aegon."

"There’s no part of me that wants to have a preconceived idea of how the scene’s going to play."

"It lends itself to the way he is personality wise."

"He’s very impulsive."

"He doesn’t think things through very much, and I always like to catch myself off guard and surprise myself in those scenes."

"For me, that’s how I find authenticity in a moment."

"And that just means it’s different every time, and they can just choose which one they like."

"I don’t deal with the cut."

THERE'S A TRANSFER OF POWER BETWEEN AEGON AND OTTO IN EPISODE TWO. HOW IMPORTANT WAS THAT CONFRONTATION IN TERMS OF THE REST OF THE SEASON?

"Massive."

"We start to see ’em pull back the reins."

"We start to see ’em take a bit of control and use his authority and put people in their place when they need to be put in their place."

"He finds it stimulating."

YOU FINALLY GET TO RIDE A DRAGON THIS SEASON. DID YOU GET ANY TIPS FROM YOUR CASTMATES WHO'VE DONE IT ALREADY?

"It was actually, surprisingly straightforward."

"If you’re doing a full day up there, then yeah, you’re going to be tired."

"We had a lot of sort of strengthening and conditioning work that we’d keep doing, just so we had a pretty healthy baseline in terms of our physical strength and capabilities."

IF YOU COULD PLAY AEGON'S THERAPIST FOR A DAY WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE HIM?

"Be patient with himself."

"Stop comparing."

"Stop being jealous."

"Give yourself a break and go on holiday."

SO MUCH HAPPENED OFF SCREEN BETWEEN SEASONS ONE ANE TWO. IT TOOK YEARS TO FILM. THERE WERE STRIKES. HOW DID THAT EFFECT THE CAST AND THE VIBES ON SET.

"Yeah, you’ve got tunnel vision while you’re making this show and that’s how we like it."

"I think you sort of buckle down and stay in the zone and stay focused."

"Try and get as much sleep as you can."

"It takes its toll, but we all welcome that with open arms."

"It’s one of those kinds of once in a lifetime opportunities to be a part of a show like this and to play characters like these."

"We’re all very aware of that, and we’re all very grateful to be in the position we’re in, getting to bring these characters to life and share this fucking cool story with so many lovely fans."

IS THERE A LESSON YOU'RE LEARNED FROM FILMING THIS SEASON THAT YOU'LL TAKE WITH YOU INTO THE NEX PHASE OF YOUR CAREER?

"That’s a good question."

"I’m kind of still working that out."

"I’ve only been doing this [acting] for, well, eight years, really, so I’ve not had a great deal of experience."

"I feel like the responsibility to play a pivotal part in a project like this takes its toll, stamina wise, and you just need to make sure that you can keep up with the rhythm of everything."

"But I think taking your breaks where you can get them, surrounding yourself with people you love and trust as you’re doing it, you can be quite delicate in the process."

"And yeah, stay away from social media."

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Hello I absolutely love your writing! I wanted to ask if I could request a Soldier Boy imagine? Specifically one where the reader is Black Canary. She’s an incredible fighter, has her loud ear piercing sonic scream & the bad ass bodysuit with the fishnet tights! He’s basically smitten & wants to go out with her. Although she hesitates for sometime because of his reputation he manages to convince her. But we also see him admiring her when she’s working out/training and when she’s saving people/being a hero. Thank you💕

A Compliment A Day

masterlist

pairing: soldier boy x black canary!reader (female supe)

summary: soldier boy gives black canary a genuine compliment each day to show her he’s capable of being a good person

rating: R for language

word count: 1.6k

warnings: soldier boy (he’s a warning for this one, but he does get better), language, workplace harassment (?), i think that’s everything

timeline: set in an au a few years after season 3

author’s note: anon thank you for requesting!! i’m hoping this is what you were looking for! 🫶

It had been years since Vought came crashing down and Neumann was put behind bars. Supe Affairs had been running smoothly, and from the ashes of Vought arose a group of Supe’s who called themselves ‘Avengers of Justice’.

They were determined to keep their fellow Supe’s in line before S.A. could take them god knows where, as well as keep the average citizens safe.

You were the informal leader of this small group. Mainly because it had been your idea in the first place, but also because no one dared go against you. Everyone knew you were holding back your full potential when it came to your powers. The last time you used them almost at full blast, was when you single handedly destroyed Vought Tower. One screech and the empty building collapsed; also temporarily damaging everyone’s eardrums in a two mile radius. (The damage only lasted a couple days, and reports showed that a few people even had better hearing afterwards.)

You were also the leader because you had saved most of the Supe’s who followed your commands.

Soldier Boy was one of them. When you learned he’d been put back under you were determined to get him back. And you did. You managed to free him and get him the hell away from the Feds before anyone realized you were in the building.

He was incredibly grateful, and at first he showed it in the most inappropriate ways.

For example, the first thing he said to you when he woke up and you were saving him was, “Wow, you’ve got great tits, miss.” You slapped him in the face before you both fled.

You didn’t stand for about half the things he said. You kicked his ass several times before he fully understood why you got so offended by the comments.

“Thank you for saving me all those weeks ago, Tweety Bird,” was the first non-sexist, nice thing he said to you. Although, the nickname made you want to scream and break his eardrums.

“No problem Army Man,” you replied with a forced smile.

He’d never admit it, but he genuinely liked how tough you were. How you didn’t let him get away with anything; his dirty dishes in the sink, his dirty socks in the living room, and many more everyday things that he never used to worry about.

But you kinda annoyed him too. To him, he was The Man of the house (well, old clock tower apartment, turned watchtower for Supe’s who worked with you) and you were supposed to respect him. You were a woman, it was your job to make him dinner, not the other way around!

The first time he said these misogynistic thoughts out loud every single Supe at the base looked at him like he had three fucking heads. You were pissed as fuck and demoted him to clean-up duty for two weeks. Suddenly his dirty dishes in the sink came back to haunt him.

He shut his mouth after that.

**

“Canary, we’ve got a live one!” one of your Supe’s informed you as you walked into the apartment. “Campbell down at Supe Affairs is claiming the Supe killed these people on purpose, we beg to differ.” You hit play on the video in front of you.

“Well that clearly wasn’t his fault!” you scoffed, watching as the Supe seemed to emit a force from himself but looked terrified at the outcome. “I’ll call Hughie and sort this out. Is the Supe already in custody?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Soldier Boy said. “I called the cum guzzler and he insisted that this Supe had malicious intent.”

“Please tell me you did not call the head of Supe Affairs and call him that?” you groaned. Soldier Boy just grinned. “God damn it Soldier Boy! Now I have to call the bastard and grovel.”

“Sorry,” he piped, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. “It kinda just… came out.”

“Well, you live and you learn.” You shrugged then eyed him. “Well, you live anyway.”

“Hey! I’d like to think I’ve learned quite a lot given the fact I was raised in the fucking thirties! I’ve been working with you for two-and-a-half years now and it’s been how many months since I called you a bitch?”

“Check the whiteboard, Soldier Boy, it’s been two weeks since you last hit on me.”

“I still think singling me out with ‘Days Since Last Soldier Boy Incident’ is a form of discrimination.”

“It’s not when you’ve personally insulted every single one of your co-workers,” you laughed.

“Insulted?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows, seeming somewhat hurt. You picked up on that and decided to drop the conversation.

“Look, just listen in when I call Hughie and learn how I talk to him without pointing out the fact I could break his spine, okay?”

“Okay,” Soldier Boy huffed.

**

You were lifting weights in the gym room (a section of the “apartment” converted into a makeshift gym) when Soldier Boy came in to join you.

“Hey, did you mean what you said earlier?” he asked. You put the weights down and looked at him, silently asking what he meant. “When I try to compliment you… does it actually sound like an insult?”

“Soldier Boy, the last time you ‘complimented’ me, you said that my fishnet tights made me look fuckable. That is not a compliment.”

“Yeah it is! I’m saying they make you look good!”

“Alright, I’m gonna do you and every woman you come in contact with in the future, a huge favor. If you really like someone, try complimenting something other than their looks. For example, tell them you like their sense of humor, or their taste in music. Do not go up to a co-worker and say they look fuckable.”

“So, instead of saying what I’m thinking right now about your gym clothes, I should say that I think it’s incredible you can bench over two-hundred pounds even though strength isn’t really your superpower?”

“Yes! Thank you, Soldier Boy.” You smiled a little.

“Well, then get used to hearing really specific compliments from now on, Tweety, because you asked for it.” He smirked then left the room.

“It’s Black Canary, Army Man!” you called out to him.

**

True to his word, Soldier Boy complimented you on literally everything but your looks the next few weeks. He made sure to give you (at least) one genuine compliment each day in hopes you’d see him as more than a barely tolerable co-worker.

One you really enjoyed hearing was; “I like how you can keep a couple dozen Supe’s under the same roof without them killing each other. I think that really says something about what a great leader you are.”

He said that after two Supe’s had fought each other over breakfast cereal and you managed to calm them both down. At first you thought he was being sarcastic but when you looked at him, you realized he was completely serious.

Another one that stuck out was; “This may be ironic, given the fact you could deafen anyone you come in contact with, but you are an incredible listener, Tweety Bird. You’re really easy to talk to and you give great advice.”

The nickname was growing on you.

But your absolute favorite and the one that made you swoon (you would never admit it though) was when you and Soldier Boy had been too late to a crime scene to save a handful of hostages. The two of you were seated on the roof of a building nearby; you had tears running down your face and he looked at you with such compassion.

“I know it might not seem like it right now,” Soldier Boy started, reaching out to touch your hand gently. “But you are an incredible person and you do not deserve everything you’re putting yourself through right now. You are strong as fuck and what happened here was not your fault. You’re a fucking hero, Tweety Bird, and I love that about you. But you’re human too and I love that even more.”

You slowly turned your head to look at him, tears still clouding your eyes.

“Thank you, Soldier Boy,” you whispered. “I know I usually don’t take your compliments very well but seriously, Army Man, thank you.”

“Anytime.” He smiled, not looking away from you. “Can I say one thing about your looks right now?”

“Sure, I think you’ve earned it given the fact you’ve gone three weeks without saying anything,” you laughed a little.

“Your dark eye makeup is running like crazy right now-”

“Wow, way to kick me when I’m down!”

“You didn’t let me finish! It’s running like crazy but you still look so fuckin�� pretty.” He smiled wider when you nodded in acceptance. He stared down at your lips as you smiled.

“If you’re thinking about kissing me-”

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna try anything, I know I’m about one wrong word away from my ears bleeding.”

“Well, I was gonna say go ahead and kiss me but-” He cut you off again but this time with a kiss to your lips. “Wow you’re good at that,” you mumbled when he pulled away after a moment. “I think I understand your cockiness now.”

“I’d love to take the credit, but that was definitely all you, Tweety.”

“Maybe we just have perfect chemistry,” you whispered and leaned in for another kiss.

“Guess we won’t know without a few more experiments, huh?” He kissed you a third time.

“I’m free all night, Army Man.”

[plutoccult]

LET THE LIGHT IN

pairing: jean kirstein x female reader

description: the aftermath of the moment you and jean shared the night before had proven to be more awkward than you wanted it to be, but now you were determined to say how you feel this time around. if only jean would stop avoiding you like the plague, then it would be a whole lot easier for you.

word count: 3.6k

read part one here

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: i genuinely didn’t expect to get any notes when i posted three little words, and i honestly never thought of writing a continuation of it, so thank you to @spicytvna for suggesting it! you really got my brain cooking, and i’m very grateful! thank you for everyone you liked and reblogged it as well! it’s very much appreciated! i honestly struggled with the title as i didn’t want to use the same title just with “part two” on it, and since music is what flows my creativity, i decided to go with a song that i felt represented jean and the reader. shoutout to lana del rey for having a chokehold on me since middle school. you really are that bitch fr. sorry this took quite a bit to get to you guys, but i really wanted to make sure i was giving you all something great. enjoy!!!

neither you or jean could sleep after what happened that night. you were too in your head to finish writing to your father while jean was too embarrassed to say a word to connie about what happened. you were in the same boat the next morning when sasha tried asking if something happened between you two, but your erratic behavior scared her off, so she ran back to connie with no intel to report.

you couldn’t help but mentally beat yourself up over and over about the whole thing. why did you have to freeze up? why couldn’t you just… say how you feel? you knew you loved him, and you finally knew he loved you, but why couldn’t you help but be scared? you were always the kind of person who never wanted to say how you feel first, but when the chance came to where you could say it without rejection, you chicken out.

it replayed in your head on a loop. you got all worked up just by the very thought then would always curse yourself afterwards. you had to do something about it. you had to talk to jean. he had to know you felt the same way as he felt for you. there isn’t anything to be scared of anymore, or so you thought.

every time you saw jean, he always just so happened to be going in the opposite direction as you. whenever you tried to call out for him, he acted like he couldn’t hear you. it was easy to figure out he was ignoring you, and he was doing—in your opinion—quite an awful job at it.

it seemed as if he was just going to easily write off what happened and never speak to you again, but why? you wanted to ask why he can’t give you a chance to speak, but you had your chance the night he spilled his guts. you just weren’t able to spill yours. still, you were on a mission to talk to him someway, somehow. you would do whatever it takes.

as the days passed, you figured you had to find jean in a place where he couldn’t run. you hoped you could get some help from connie as sasha told you how connie (allegedly) said that he would love to finally make the pairing of you and jean happen and work something out. so, you prayed that sasha wasn’t lying to you and found the courage to knock on the door of jean and connie’s room, assuming jean would be somewhere else, continuing to avoid you.

like you expected, connie opened the door. he knew you would come to him, but he wasn’t expecting it not long after sasha relayed his message hardly an hour ago. “y/n!”

“hi. i hope i’m not intruding or anything.” you say politely. you’re almost tempted to peer your head to see if jean is hiding in the room somewhere, but you don’t want to ruin this.

“nah, i was just bumming.” connie assured you, which brought you some relief. “you’re here for jean, aren’t you?”

“isn’t it obvious?” you force a laugh. it was hard to act like you were okay with what happened when you nowhere near weren’t. you were sure jean probably brought your name to shame when he returned to his room that night, but things weren’t always what they seemed.

“um, hello? sash and i been waiting for one of you to stop being a wuss and confess for ages. we essentially knew jean would be the one to do it first, we just didn’t think… uh…” he struggled with his words towards the end. you know exactly what connie was going to say, so you said the words for him and let him off easy.

“that i wouldn’t be able to say it back?”

“yup, basically. but that’s okay, y/n. feelings are scary, i get that.” connie said. “that’s why i’m here to help you properly declare your feelings for jean, and i have the best way to do it.”

“you do?” you raised an eyebrow, feeling unsure about what his idea of the “best” is.

“yeah, i’m feeling like picking a bunch of flowers, maybe an impromptu musical number in front of everyone—” connie began to list what you thought were a bunch of terrible, terrible ideas. this is not what you expected when sasha said connie would help you. it was horrendous, and you had to put a stop to it.

“um, connie, i’m not sure that’s a good idea—” your words were interrupted by a familiar voice, one you could recognize without hesitation. you turn around quickly, it’s exactly who you hoped and prayed to see for days now. finally. “jean!”

jean froze in his tracks as you and connie fall silent and share a look. he’s at a loss for words, unsure how to get himself out of this situation, except for one idea; run.

you didn’t even have a second to think as connie did what you would’ve done for you aka run after him. you couldn’t even believe what was happening right now. all you wanted was a way to fix things with jean, and while he finally entered your presence once more, he bolted as quickly as he arrived. at least the sight of connie apprehending jean and snatching his room key was somewhat entertaining to watch.

“you’re coming with me, buddy!” connie yelled as he had his hold on jean, practically threatening to yank out his arm socket as he dragged him across the floor.

“no!” jean whined, fighting for his life. it was such a childish thing, you thought, hearing him act like this. they argued back and forth like bickering siblings until connie finally got jean back to their room door, and all you could do was stand and watch.

“why not?!”

“b-because!”

“that’s not a reason!”

“because i don’t want to!”

your eyes met connie’s as he threw jean into their room. he was one to be chaotic, but this seemed like a whole new level for you. “hey, y/n, remember that idea i had? well, i have an even better one.”

“what is it?” you ask nervously before connie pushed you into the room with jean, tripping backwards over jean’s leg and falling straight to your ass quicker than you could blink.

“neither of you are leaving until you talk your feelings out. later!” connie said then slammed the door in both of your faces, leaving the two of you speechless.

you quickly get to your feet and reach for the doorknob, realizing it won’t budge on bit. connie locked the door and was the only one with the key. that sneaky son of a bitch locked you two in a room without any escape. well, unless you wanted to jump out a window.

“oh… my… god…” you say to yourself, hoping for jean to say something to you, maybe propose a way on how to get out of here, but he didn’t say a word, he didn’t even dare to look you in the eye, and you couldn’t stand it.

“aren’t you going to say something?” your question comes out desperate. “this is torture, jean!”

“ha, you’re one to talk!” jean scoffed, taking you by surprise. you couldn’t help but wonder what changed his mind so drastically between a few nights ago and now. you know what you didn’t wasn’t the best, but you were trying to make it right, and he wasn’t giving you a chance whatsoever. it was, like you said, torture. perhaps the greatest torture of all, in fact.

“really? this is how you’re going to act?” you ask in disbelief.

“yes, y/n, it is because i’m so embarrassed that even just being in the same room as you makes me wanna rip my heart out.” he said harshly.

you’re left speechless by his words. you wanted to say he didn’t mean it, but you know he did. you embarrassed him. you toyed with his poor heart without meaning to. yes, you did love him, but it almost felt like you were being crucified just for being scared to say it out loud, and you refused to be crucified any longer. whether jean still had feelings for you or not, you couldn’t stand to live like this.

as you failed to respond, you snapped back to reality as you realize jean is trying to force the bedroom window open. you noticed the window earlier, but you seriously didn’t think he would jump to such extreme measures as you didn’t consider it for yourself. from this level, it wouldn’t be easy climbing out either.

“what the hell are you doing?” you question him.

“getting out of here.” jean replied coldly as he focused on opening the window, which he did successfully after a bit of brute force. you really couldn’t believe this.

“you’re gonna climb out a fucking window just to get away from me?” you ask with sadness in your voice. “where’s the jean kirstein that i loved so much?”

jean froze. loved? you knew what you meant when you said it, but jean’s mind raced a mile a minute as he tried figuring out what way you meant those words. it was something he never thought he’d hear, but it only made him wish he wasn’t an impatient little asshole who gave you no chance to say what you wanted to when you were ready for it.

he slowly turned around to meet your gaze, noticing your eyes beginning to well with tears. god, he felt so awful now. “what?”

“you wanna get out of here? i’ll get you out of here. i’m in love with you. i love you. i was too afraid to say it that night, but i’m not afraid to say it now.” you say without faltering, even if this was nowhere near how you wanted this to go. “clearly i messed it all up and you would rather die than breathe in my direction, so there. we said how we felt, now you can get what you want.”

getting out here wasn’t what he wanted. it was those goddamn three little words he craved more than he ever wished for freedom and luxury. that was what he wanted. he knew it all came out so angrily from your lips, but that part didn’t matter to him right now. you loved him. you loved jean kirstein. that alone could mend any bone that dared to break or wash away any bad thought in his brain. you weren’t the one that messed this up, it was him. it was time jean tried to make it right, but he was too late. timing had a thing for never being on either of your sides.

before jean could speak and make this all better, you knock on the door for connie’s attention. “connie? you can let us out now. all feelings have been made very, very clear.”

connie, who could hear everything from the other side of the door, did as you wished and set you free. you look at jean one last time before walking out, the look of teardrops streaming down your face bound to haunt him. he immediately stood up and went after you, grabbing you by the shoulder to stop you. you turn around and face him, wiping away your tears in an attempt to appear strong.

“y/n, i’m sorry.” jean said quickly. there was so much more he could say, but that seemed like the best start, if you gave him the chance to speak, although he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“no, it’s okay.” you insist. “we’re even now, i suppose.”

jean didn’t want to get “even”, but he felt like he had no choice but to watch you walk away. you didn’t mean to hurt each other like this, but you both made it seem so easy. even if the execution came out so simple, the effects were like needles prodding your hearts. you had to find a way to heal your broken hearts somehow.

when you walked back to your room, you found sasha on her way out, assuming she was going to sneak herself some a secret snack before dinnertime. she was shocked to find you coming back like this, and without either of you needing to say a word, she wrapped her arms around you and held you tightly. you melted into her embrace, letting out all the cries you held back from before.

“come on, you should lay down.” sasha said softly. “all that crying is gonna tire you out.”

“okay.” you sniffle. “thank you.”

•••

sasha always knew you so well. it was the best part of being roommates. you fell asleep not long after going into your shared room, and she left you be as she assumed you really needed it. come dinnertime, sasha gently nudged you awake as food was always important in her eyes.

“y/n, hey.” she whispered. “it’s time for dinner. you coming?”

you groan as you open and rub your eyes. dinnertime? you’d rather have loneliness as an appetizer and shame as the main course. you couldn’t face jean so soon. besides, you knew jean always sat with connie and sasha, so where would that leave you? you were better off alone right now. “no, i’d rather not.”

“are you sure? i think some food could heal those wounds.” sasha said, trying her best to convince you to come to the mess hall. you could sense some ulterior motives, one involving a certain horse-faced soldier, so you brushed her off and insisted on not tagging along.

“i just want some time alone, sasha.” you say, pulling your blanket closer to you.

sasha decided to let you off the hook, not wanting to press you too much, but she couldn’t help but worry about you a little. “okay. maybe get some fresh air, alright? for my sake?”

“yeah, okay, i will.” you agree, thinking you won’t really do so, but the thought makes you think it could be a good idea after all.

“good. now… food awaits me.” sasha said before swiftly existing the room, assuming she would run to dinner like her life depended on it. like any other day, her life quite literally did depend on it. for you, however, some alone time was what you needed, but maybe some fresh air will do you some good.

forcing yourself out of bed, you leave the room so you could head to your usual spot, one you’ve shared with friends before in the past, but for tonight, it was meant to be all yours. you always enjoyed sitting on a set of steps on nights like these, with the stars twinkling and moon shining as if it were just for you. the night breeze made you feel safe, like a sign that everything would be okay with time, but when?

unbeknownst to you, when sasha entered the mess hall, jean had expected you to walk in with her. he and connie asked where you were, and sasha—almost acting like your own personal cupid—informed the two about your whereabouts. jean knew this was his opportunity to turn this all around, or at the very least make it known how terrible he felt about the way he acted. but he couldn’t just do it with words, he had to show it too, and jean knew exactly where you could be right now.

funnily enough, the second you were getting ready to go back to your room and lay down for the rest of the night, you found jean standing many feet behind you with a tray of food in one hand and some flowers in the other. you froze in your tracks, shocked to see him here, but also unsure what was going to happen.

“i know sasha said you wanted to be alone, but i, um… thought you’d still be hungry.” he said shyly, a stark contrast compared to earlier.

“and the flowers?” you asked.

“i picked them myself. they’re, uh, apology flowers.” jean replied, handing the flowers to you, which you hesitantly accepted. they were your favorite, of course he knew which ones to pick out. “can i sit? please?”

“um, yeah, sure. i’ll take that food off your hands too.” you say. it was impossible to say no to food, but if jean was going to improve his past behavior, then it’s best you take this chance and hear him out.

you sit back down at the steps and jean followed. he handed you the tray of food, consisting of a potato and some bread, which was all he managed to sneak out successfully. you set the tray down next to you and picked apart at the bread, using it as an excuse to not speak just yet. you’d let him do the talking first.

“i really am sorry, y/n.” he started off with. “i was such an asshole to you. i should’ve been more patient and understanding.”

you quit eating your food and looked at him with a puzzled look on your face. “what? no, i should’ve been honest with you about how i felt. i hurt your feelings, jean.”

“and i hurt yours. like you said earlier, we’re even, right?” jean questioned with a shrug.

“i didn’t want to get even.” you frowned. “i would’ve done it all differently. i wouldn’t have made such a confession so angrily like that.”

and why shouldn’t you? shouldn’t you be able to do what you had planned before it all turned disastrous? jean was more than willing to let you. earlier wasn’t enough. he wanted to hear more on your feelings. yelling in his face how you’re in love with him like it pissed you off wasn’t what he initially wanted. he wanted to hear you say it with that soft voice only so few people hear. just for him and him alone.

“why not have a redo?” he proposed, which you thought was downright crazy. “say how you feel, y/n. in the way you wanted to say it.”

your cheeks were burning red. it seemed like such a good idea in your head until jean actually encouraged it. you were so complicated like that; preferring the thought rather than the actual thing. you had to get better with that, but you didn’t seem ready for that just yet. “wow, this bread really hits different today—”

“y/n.” jean cut you off.

“hey, what happened to being more patient and understanding?” you pouted.

“and what happened to being honest about how you feel?” he was right. why did he have to be right? you hated that so much, but you knew you shouldn’t.

“it’s just…” you sigh. “it feels safer staying a thought in my head rather than spoken out loud.”

even saying that out loud made you uncomfortable. you tried to shy away from jean, but he wouldn’t let you. you couldn’t let yourself shy away either.

“it’s okay, it’s just me. you know how i feel.” he tried to assure you, but you couldn’t help but feel a little unsure. it was that small part in the back of your head that wondered what if his feelings had changed within a matter of days. it was silly, but your mind loved to mess with you in such heinous ways.

“do i?”

“i love you, y/n. that hasn’t changed.” that was exactly what you needed to hear. you couldn’t be afraid of the rejection when he laid his heart out on the line for you once more. it was time you took this head first without fear. no hesitating, no freezing up, no stumbling with your words, none of it. you’re doing this.

“jean, i love you so much it scares the shit out of me.” you say with tears in your eyes. “you’re my best friend, ya know? i can’t lose you. i don’t want either of us to run away. it would kill me.”

jean began to feel himself starting to cry too. this was all he wanted in the greatest way possible, just you saying you loved him with true, genuine meaning. it was what he wished for in the first place, but it was well worth the wait. “i won’t run away. not from this, not from you.”

“i won’t either.” you reply.

“good.” he smiled softly. a gentle stroke of your hair by jean made you want to fold over instantly. he used his thumb to wipe away your tears, which made your heart want to melt.

“is this the part where you kiss me now?” you ask breathlessly.

“do you want me to?” jean asked, waiting for you to say yes.

“yes.” you hurriedly nod.

“that’s all you had to say.” he said before gently placing a kiss on your lips. you liked that he treated you so carefully, like a porcelain doll. you wrap your arms around him as the kiss made your head feel hazy. you both felt comfortable with the feeling.

when you parted away, jean found himself lost in your glowing eyes. your smile made his heart skip a beat and he couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he’d be far more than willing to burn if it meant always staying close to you.

“so, how’s that bread—” he said to break the silence. a bad way to do it, you thought as you immediately laughed and shyly buried your head in his shoulder. he pulled himself away and lifted your chin so you’d face him, kissing you once more.

you and jean spent the rest of that night side by side, at some point finding yourselves laid out on the grass as you watched the stars, hoping to find constellations from the ground. you held each other close without wanting to let go, and neither of you intended to. now that those three little words were said, you wouldn’t dare shy away from the light.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[chelseachilly]

til you come back home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you really miss your boyfriend while he’s in the US for preseason, so you decide to give him a special surprise when he returns ;) warnings: smut, 18+ word count: 3.1k

author’s note: thanks for the request @a-little-bit-rascal​ ! also inspired by everyone (myself included) thirsting over all the ben content in preseason lmao. i hope this is something like what you had in mind ☺️ i’m not super experienced writing smut so bear with me but i hope people enjoy this, i have a couple more one-shots i’ll be working on in addition to the next chapter of this love. oh and the title is from i don’t wanna live forever by taylor & zayn

-

Not to be too dramatic, but you’re pretty sure the two weeks Ben is away in the US for the preseason tour are the longest of your life.

You’ve been with Ben for a little over a year now, and you’ve always found him incredibly attractive. From the moment you saw him at a mutual friend’s party, you were drawn to him. It only took you one drink to decide that you wanted to sleep with him, and two more to actually go for it.

You’re very grateful you didn’t ask him what he does for a living until after he shagged you in your friend’s guest room, as you may have chickened out if you knew he was a hotshot footballer. And also because Ben found it incredibly endearing when you complimented his toned body afterward and asked if he played any sports in his free time.

A few days later, when he finally used the number you gave him and called you up, you were somewhat expecting it to be a booty call. The sex had been great, for both of you, so you weren’t totally surprised by that. You were surprised when he asked you to go to dinner first.

The rest was history, as you found it to be just as easy to fall in love with Ben Chilwell as it was to fall into bed with him.

Your sex life has never wavered since that first date, except for when he’s been away for games or injured and under doctor’s orders not to engage in any physical activities - though he certainly still tried.

Even after all this time, Ben still has a power over you that no guy ever has, the ability to make you crumble with one look from his piercing eyes or the touch of his hand on your thigh.

Which is why it’s incredibly frustrating when he’s looking so fit and he’s thousands of miles away in stupid America.

He’s been looking particularly good recently, and you’re not sure if it’s his tan from the summer holiday, the way his hair has grown out a bit, the extra time he’s been putting in at the gym, or maybe even the confidence he’s getting back after a tough season. Regardless of what it is, it’s really making it challenging to be apart from him.

Every time the Chelsea Instagram posts a picture of him training or he FaceTimes you from his hotel room, you find it increasingly hard not to drop everything at work and just fly to the States immediately.

Watching him play in the match against Wrexham, when he scores a goal in the 94th minute wearing the captain’s arm brand and proceeds to tear off his shirt on live television, nearly makes you scream out of sheer frustration.

How dare your boyfriend be so hot when you can’t immediately have him?

By the time the tour is over and they’re set to return to London, you’re bursting at the seams with pent-up desire. They’re supposed to land in London around eight that evening, and the thought of waiting for him to get through customs, take the team bus to Cobham, then get an Uber to your flat feels torturous.

As soon as Ben texts you that they’re about to take off and that he‘ll be at yours by ten, you decide you can’t wait that long.

You know they’re flying into Stansted, so you whip out your laptop and your credit card and book a room at the nicest airport hotel you can find.

You’re not only eager to finally touch Ben and have your way with him after two long weeks apart, but also to show him how proud you are of him. Despite all the adversity he’s faced over the past couple of years, he’s going into the new season with a positive attitude. He’s not only playing well, he’s taking on more of a leadership role within the club and showing everyone just how crucial he is to their success.

So you’re determined to make your reunion romantic and special for him as well, taking the opportunity to treat your boyfriend before another intense season.

You head over to the hotel in advance to set up the room for him, pulling out all the stops - champagne, rose petals on the bed, candles. You have a romantic playlist ready filled with songs you both love. Ben has frequently shown his love for you with romantic gestures, whether it be whisking you to Paris for a weekend or surprising you with fancy dinners, so you’re excited to be returning the favour for a change.

As their arrival time approaches, you head over to the airport and wait for him.

It seems to take ages, but eventually you see some of the boys begin to trickle in and your heart thumps with anticipation.

A few of the guys who you know well stop to smile and say hello to you on their way to the bus, all clearly a bit surprised to see you there.

“Hey, Y/N!” Reece says with a grin as he passes you. “Does Ben know you’re here?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” you say a bit sheepishly.

“He’s gonna lose his mind,” Reece chuckles. “Bro hasn’t shut up about you the entire time we were in the States-“

“Y/N?”

You look over Reece’s shoulder to see Ben standing there, luggage in hand, looking absolutely awestruck.

He’s wearing his club t-shirt and joggers, and his hair is a bit messy from napping on the plane. He looks adorable, especially his bright smile that only seems to be growing with every second that he looks at you.

You begin to run toward him on instinct and he barely has time to drop his bag before you’re throwing your arms around him and he’s catching you.

Ben’s arms wrap around your waist and he lifts you off the ground for a moment, spinning you around slightly with unbridled joy. It feels so good to be in his arms again, his warmth enveloping you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ben murmurs in your hair, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “How - I mean, why are you here? You didn’t have to pick me up from the airport.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” you say with a smile, pulling back to look at him and cup his face with both hands. “I missed you like crazy.”

Ben stares back at you for a moment, his eyes overflowing with affection, before leaning in to press a long overdue kiss to your lips. You sigh into the kiss and slide your fingers into his hair, tugging at it slightly.

“Best surprise ever,” Ben murmurs against your lips before deepening the kiss.

You continue to kiss him until you’re both out of air and you realize you can’t go any further in a busy airport surrounded by his teammates.

“Let’s go home,” Ben whispers, pecking your lips once more. “Did you drive?”

“Mhm, but I actually have another surprise for you,” you smirk, patting his cheek. “I got us a room at the Raddison across the street.” You lower your voice slightly. “So I can show you how much I missed you.”

Ben’s eyes light up as he realizes he’s going to get to have you a lot sooner than he thought, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“You’re amazing.”

Ben says goodbye to the boys, receiving a lot of knowing smirks and pats on the back before he hastily grabs his suitcase and your hand and begins to drag you away.

You both quickly make your way over to the hotel, holding hands tightly, filled with anticipation.

When you get to your room, you barely make it through the door before Ben is pushing up up against it and kissing you firmly, his bags discarded on the floor and his arms around your waist.

“I missed you so much,” he sighs against your mouth as you eagerly respond, your hands once again finding his fluffy hair and messing it up even more. “I missed this.”

“Imagine how I felt,” you say between kisses. “Having to watch you be all sexy on TV and you posting all those thirst traps on Insta-“

“Babe, they’re not thirst traps,” Ben defends, slipping his hand under your jumper so he can feel your bare skin.

“Well, it‘s still not fair for you to be looking so fit when I’m not able to have sex with you,” you whine, tugging at his shirt so he’ll get the message and take it off.

Once Ben has removed his shirt, you allow both your eyes and your hands to explore his toned shoulders and arms, gently squeezing his biceps.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ben says with a small smile as he watches you check him out. “What’s my punishment?”

“I’m not going to punish you,” you say with a sly smile, pecking his lips once more before backing away from him, making him pout a bit at the loss of contact. “You’re getting rewarded tonight, Benjamin.”

“For the wins?” Ben asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“That, and for finally getting your arse home to me,” you smile, reaching out a hand for him to follow you further into the room.

Ben eagerly follows, his eyes lighting up once again when he sees the effort you’ve gone to for your little reunion celebration.

“I get all this just for coming home?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes shining with awe.

You shake your head as you light a few of the candles and hit play on your Spotify, creating an even more romantic atmosphere.

“No, you get all this because I love you,” you say softly, shimmying out of the light sundress you were wearing to reveal his favourite black lingerie set. “This is what you get for coming home.“

Ben’s eyes darken and he wastes no time crossing the room to meet you, grabbing your waist and kissing you with such fervour that you immediately moan into his mouth.

His hands trail down to your butt and squeeze slightly before gripping your thighs and hoisting you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and the friction making both of you sigh with pleasure.

He carries you over to the bed, the rose petals scattering as he lays you down and begins hastily removing his joggers. When he’s in only his boxers, he climbs over you and kisses you again.

The sight of him hovering over you, his strong arms holding him up and his fluffy hair in his forehead as he meets your gaze is enough to make you melt into the duvet, your centre already burning with desire.

“What do you want, baby?” you breathe as he begins to trail kisses over your neck and collarbone. “It’s up to you tonight.”

“I wanna fuck you,” Ben says in a gravelly whisper, making you throb even more for him. “Been too long.”

“Then do it,” you reply, bucking your hips upward, desperate for friction.

Ben doesn’t have to be told twice - he immediately brings one of his hands down to touch you over your underwear. He strokes the fabric for a second before slipping his fingers underneath and feeling your folds.

“So wet for me already, love,” Ben murmurs as he begins to rub your clit with his thumb, making you moan.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away, and though you want him inside you more than anything right now, you can’t help but whine a bit.

“Patience, baby girl,” Ben says, stripping off your knickers and tossing them to the floor.

He abruptly sits up, pulling you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, and kissing you passionately. You can now feel his hardened cock through his briefs against your bare pussy and it’s becoming torturous to go another second without him inside you.

“Ben,” you breathe between kisses. “Need you.”

“I thought I was in charge?” Ben comments, reaching for your bra clasp and removing it in one swift movement.

“You are, but-“

You’re shut up quickly when Ben takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it teasingly, making your eyes shut tightly with pleasure.

You run your hands through his hair as he pays attention to your breasts that he so clearly missed, eventually trailing his kisses back up your chest and to your lips.

You kiss him hungrily, tugging at his hair a bit and exploring his mouth with your tongue.

Much less gently than before, Ben flips you over and presses you down against the bed, continuing to kiss you as he finally rids himself of his boxers.

Glancing down at you, now laid out on the comfortable mattress completely naked with your hair fanned out against the pillows, Ben takes a moment to catch his breath.  

“You’re fucking unreal,” he exhales, dropping another kiss to your lips. “So beautiful.”

You blush a bit - of course Ben could find a way to fluster you with his words even as you’re moments away from him being inside you.

You kiss him once more before reaching down to take his length in your hand, and it’s already hardened enough that it only takes a few pumps of your hand before he’s fully erect for you.

He positions himself at your entrance and, despite both of your eagerness, waits for your small nod of confirmation as always before he sinks down into you.

You gasp and Ben lets out a low groan as he enters you fully, and he has to pause and hide his face in your neck for a moment to regain control before he begins thrusting into you.

You’re aware that two weeks isn’t that long, but it certainly feels like it’s been ages since you’ve done this. The two of you have a very healthy sex life, engaging in some kind of sexual activity nearly every day unless you’re both exhausted or Ben’s away for a game or something.

The pleasure begins to grow as Ben starts to pick up the pace and intensity of his thrusts, both of your sighs and groans mingling together.

“You feel so good, baby,” Ben says as he reaches up to tangle your fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you more,” you sigh. “Had to get myself off after I watched you score that goal. Missed our tradition.”

It’s become a tradition since you’ve been together that you and Ben have celebratory sex after he scores a goal - as quickly as possible. Sometimes you have to wait until you get home, other times it’s happened in empty rooms at Stamford Bridge or even his car once.

“Fuck, so did I,” Ben groans, thrusting a bit harder this time and making you cry out. “Wasn’t as good, though. Nothing’s ever as good without you there.”

As Ben starts to go faster, you wrap your legs around his waist to shift the angle and get him as deep as possible, making both of you see stars as you’re approaching your climax.

“I wanna cum with you, baby,” Ben breathes, “are you close?”

“Mhm,” you manage to choke out as Ben’s cock hits a sensitive spot inside you.

Ben reaches down and lightly massages your clit with his thumb before thrusting into you once more.

The combination of him stimulating you and burying himself deep inside you makes you lose control, and you cry out his name as feel yourself coming all around him.

Ben is just moments behind you as he pushes into you one more time then crumbles with a low groan, collapsing on top of you.

You stroke his hair as you both come down from your climax, Ben pressing soft kisses to your collarbone.

“I love you so much,” Ben murmurs against your skin, sending a new wave of goosebumps across your body.

“I love you too, Ben,” you whisper, kissing his forehead.

Eventually your bodies stop twitching with reverberated waves of pleasure and Ben gently pulls out of you, leaving you with a peck to the cheek as he quickly runs to the bathroom to get a washcloth and clean you both up.

After you’ve sorted yourselves, Ben climbs back under the covers and opens his arms wide for you to climb into. You happily curl up against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you, and you think you may have missed this almost as much as the sex.

“I hope you know you’ve set my expectations for coming home unreasonably high,” Ben jokes as he strokes your bare back with one hand. “I’m gonna need you to pick me up at the airport every time now.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you respond sincerely, kissing his chest a few times. “Have I mentioned I missed you?”

“Once or twice,” he laughs, tilting your chin up for another long, tender kiss that makes your toes curl and your heart soar. “I missed you too. I’m so glad we have tomorrow off. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“That’s true, we still haven’t finished the new episodes of The Bear-“

“I meant sex, sweetheart, but that too,” Ben chuckles, “and loads of cuddles. It was so hard sleeping without you while I was gone.”

“I know,” you sigh, burrowing impossibly closer to him and his warmth. “My bed was too cold without you.”

You rest in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Ben’s embrace, before resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

“You ready for round two already, darling?” Ben asks with a relaxed smile, brushing his nose against yours.

Without a reply, you slip out of his arms and walk over to pour each of you a glass of champagne, still fully unclothed. Ben’s eyes remain fixed to your body the entire time.

When you walk right past the bed, Ben whines a bit and you can already picture his puppy dog eyes before you turn back around to face him.

“Where are you going?” Ben complains.

“I need a shower,” you say nonchalantly, taking a sip from your glass. “You ready for part two of your reward?”

Ben’s eyes nearly roll back in his head as he rushes to get out of bed comically fast, following you into the bathroom as you giggle at his excitement.

You realize later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower and he’s returned the favour back in bed, that you may have sent him the wrong message by rewarding him for driving you mad while he was gone, but oh well.

You’ve got a girls trip to Capri coming up in a few weeks, and you can think of a few ways to get your revenge.

-

thank you for reading!! also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for any future ben fics! 💕

[intheorangebedroom]

Hi Maddie! I hope you are having a wonderful September and you are enjoying the start of autumn. This might sound obsessed or weird, but PTMY and TYBTM are seriously some of my favorite things I've ever read... ever, like I'm putting it up there with novels I've read. It is insane to me how much talent there is in this fandom. Like the Pedro girlies are literal authors, putting out works of art. For me, you are the best of the best! Obviously, both stories have me very hot and bothered lol, but it's just the way you write intimacy and relationships, the peculiarities of your characters and the world's they inhabit so brilliantly, beautifully. I'm sure you know that at times you write like it is poetry! It is so immersive and I love it deeply. My question (apologies in advance) is about writing. I was wondering if you have any tips on (a) how you have improved as a writer, like in terms of how you've been to find your style? (b) how to overcome perfectionism? I've been wanting to take a crack at some Frankie ideas I've had, but I get so weighed down by self doubt and inertia. And also, I worry it's just not original enough. Okay, sorry for the rant! I will never be as good as you OBVIOUSLY lol, but for you I am grateful. I'm so excited for the next part of TYBTM and sad we are almost halfway to the end. I'm so excited for whatever you have in store for the future. Sending you so much love and hope you're having a great day.

Hey Nonnie 🧡

I apologise in advance for the length of this answer. 

Your kindness, your generosity and your time mean everything to me. I’m the worst at expressing gratitude when I’m paid a compliment. "Compliment" doesn't cut it to qualify what you said about my stories, it’s too much, it’s so incredibly kind. You made me so soft but also so much stronger. Thank you 🧡 My first impulse upon reading your message was to throw away my phone and scream I’VE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I’M DOING but I owe it to you to at least try to answer you. Also do you need some blood? A kidney? I have two. You name it it's yours.

I would like to start with the second part of your question, if you don’t mind. 

I have never ever thought any given piece I wrote to be perfect. At best, I think it’s not that bad, but that’s when I read it again a month after posting, because at the time I post it, it’s more like omfg if I read that shit one more time I’m gonna stab myself in the eye.” 

But life is too short for perfectionism. I’m sorry to be speaking like an old fart, but it is. You blink and it’s over. If you have a milligram of creativity in you, do not hesitate. Channel it. Create what you want, what you like. I’m serious. DO IT. Enjoy doing it. 

Self-doubt is a fucking bag of dicks. I’m riddled with it. In every corner of my existence. Every step of the way. Every word I type (not in my mother tongue…). How many times have I wanted to give up, especially during PTMY. The current tybtm chapter has fucking killed me dead. I hate it. It’s not good. Bad. But I’m forty fucking five years old and I’ll be damned if I let self-doubt and fear prevent me from achieving what I set out to do.

When I came back to tumblr in 2020, I saw numerous posts saying “you write for yourself first,” and I did not really understand what they meant. It’s nice to have an audience! It’s nice to be liked and validated! It’s nice to connect with people over something you’ve created. Musicians play live, and get a hell of a kick out of it, right? Why not us, writers? And one day, I think at the beginning of tybtm, it hit me. I understood. Fuck yeah I’m doing this for me. Because I need it. I need to tell this story. I need the satisfaction of having done it. The entire process makes me both incandescently happy and abysmally miserable, and you know what? That’s the fucking spice of life. I want both. I am alive when I write. Through the pleasure and the pain. So if you need it too, well, go for it. Don't let anyone, including you, tell you you're not good enough. Got for it.

There are 99% of chances that what you’re gonna write has already been written. So what? It hasn’t been written by you. No one sees people, life, or Frankie the way you do. Even if you write an age-old trope, even if you write the same trope over and over again in every story (me!), you’ll still bring your own precious singularity to the story, the characters, and the narration. That’s worth EVERYTHING. Please trust me. Maybe no one will like it. Maybe every one will like it. Whatever. At the end of the day, you still did what you set your heart on. I cannot stress enough how important this is. Carpe diem, baby.

Then, how did I improve as a writer, oh Nonnie, I’ve no idea. I don’t think I’m any good. I don’t think I am legitimate to give you any advice. 49.5% of the time, I think I’m too much (too gothic, too lyrical, too big with the feelings and emotions). 49.5% of the time, I think I’m not enough (not precise, concise, clear, good enough). But alright, I’ll try. For you. But please bear in mind I say all this in the most humble spirit.  

I write. All the time. In my head, in the shower, walking in the street, driving, aaaaaall the time. And then I type it down in a doc. And edit it and revise it again and again and again, until it feels smoother and/or I want to puke at the thought of having to go through it again. 

I try to take my time without panicking. If I’m stuck or in a bad mental place, I try to let it rest a bit.

My first year at uni, I studied screenplay writing. I would be unable to tell you precisely what I learned, but I think some of it is ingrained? In terms of conveying intentions through actions and dialogues (I know I tend to write pages and pages of introspection, and I swear I try to restrain myself, even if it doesn’t always translate to the doc).

Then, I’m an art vampire. I soak up everything I can, especially painting, music, and movies. I let it inspire me. I take notes on my feelings, fleeting emotions that I can’t articulate at first, and reflect and work on them until they become fully formed ideas I can inject in the writing. 

I read. A lot. And sometimes not at all when it feeds the self-doubt (comparison, you bitch!). I wait until I feel better, stronger. It may take time. 

With books/fanfics and movies, I analyse the narrative process employed. What I liked or disliked, what moved me, what didn’t. I take notes. To that effect, you can read reblogs of your favourite fics! Sometimes people reblog with some pretty neat analyses, just soak it up!

My obsession is finding the Right Word. I can spend days on the quest. A thesaurus helps. And sometimes it doesn’t. I also read my stuff out loud, because I like when it has a certain rhythm. And when the meaning of a sentence doesn’t work in a rhythm, I rework it tirelessly until it does. Fun times... 

I want to say that if you take the leap and start writing, after a while, you will feel instinctually what works for you. What feels right in terms of personal style. Maybe at the beginning you'll subconsciously write like someone else, but with practice and patience, your style will come out. If you need someone to cheer you on, I'm here.

Oh yeah because, very important, I whine to the very good angel friends in my phone whenever I’m stuck (they will recognise themselves if they read this)(okay they are @dreamymyrrh and @pedrit0-pascalit0). I forfeit all dignity and beg them for virtual hugs. I don't know what I did to deserve them.

And lastly, I have been privileged to witness the genius of Kelli ( @frannyzooey ) in the works and wow. She's it for me. Everything she writes resonates with me, so I just soak. it. up.  

So yeah. to sum it up: carpe diem and be a vampire 🦇

Hope that helps 🧡

I’m also gonna leave that here: 

Claire ( @just-here-for-the-moment ) is one of the best people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet here. She’s patient, sweet, kind, and SO FUCKING SMART. Don't be afraid to reach out.

Nonnie, again, I'm so sorry this is so long. I sincerely hope you'll find something useful in all this gibberish. If not, come back to my ask box with any question. And again, thank you 🧡 From the bottom of my broken vampire heart, thank you 🧡

[r4v3nr0s3]

HELLO!

SEPTEMBER 22 is my B-day, I am trying to get my completed series THE EMERALD FORMULA, published.

So I’ve started a GoFundMe! Please check out my story below and if you could like, share, or donate it would mean everything to me.

LEARN MORE BELOW

I'm Raven Rose a queer, Latino, chronically ill, and disabled author and artist. Welcome to my journey as I get ready to be on my own for the first time in 15 years, go back to school, try to get on federal disability in the United States, and get my first novel published. September 22 is my Birthday month so if anyone is feeling extra festive, in lieu of gifts, I'd appreciate help here!

I’m restarting from scratch after a near decade of health problems, and despite great efforts to re-etner the workplace, 6 months time doing what I used to love, put me back in the hospital. For more about me visit my web page !

My lifelong dream has been to become a writer, but I can't do it alone. You can help me reach my goals and achieve my wildest dreams, and I could not be more grateful! Please do whatever you can do - like, share, and/or donate. I'm finally investing in myself and I believe my ideas and this story deserve investment too, so that's why I'm asking for your help.

Now for the goods!

THE EMERALD FORMULA is a series I've been working on close to 20 years.

The Working BLURB for novel 1 is as follows:

Renata Salcedo has never made a wave in her life. In the last few years though, she's broken up with her long term boyfriend, moved into her own place, and was diligently working towards the career of her dreams: a spot at the Smithsonian.

Fine... Adrenaline Junkie, Renata was not. She learned to stay small and figured out how to move quietly enough to stay unnoticed and survive. But it wasn't like she was unsuccessful. Her carefully planned path of baby steps lead her to exactly where she wanted to be: living her boring life and people leaving her alone to do her job. If anything, the job provided her all the excitement she needed. Unearthing old civilizations? Cataloguing the past through objects and art? Thrilling stuff! All done from the safety atop of an orthopedic pillow from behind a desk.

There was only one teensy problem with Renata's goals.

An entire world she knew nothing about existed right under her nose, and it's going to disrupt her boring little life whether she's planned for it or not. And really she can't complain too much, as it all starts with one of her absolute, most favorite things...

A Book

(Story EXCERPT at the bottom too)

REALM OF MATTER is the first novel in a complete 3-Book series called THE EMERALD FORMULA. At this point, the series needs refinement and editing, so both developmental and line editing. Funds will go towards paying the editors. Whatever is left over will go towards my publishing goals, and my intent to get an art degree and start doing marketing and making book covers. The three mock ups below were all created by me in Vector and Photoshop.

This Epic tale is a paranormal adventure with elements or horror, humor, fantasy, and an underlying slow burn human/humanoid monster romance. It features a diverse cast of human characters who break the mold of the Hero's Journey, and reject its sanctity all-together.

Its universe is heavily based on the History of science, magic, and folklore, focusing mainly on Pagan and Catholic mythology to give this Hero's journey a darkly poignant and comedic edge that digs in and punches up. The magical system is highly elemental, and dives deep into Alchemical and Spiritual theory from thousands of years ago. All of the artwork you see was done by me, a self taught artist (thought I'd like to go back to school next year).

I created my own language and phonetics system, also an alphabet.

All so I could make these transmutation circles based on sacred geometry.

YOU CAN READ CHAPTER 1 HERE

THE EMERAD FORMULA: REALM OF MATTER is a snarky thriller that features a bunch of traumatized, relatable saps often thrust into magical and extraordinary circumstances with not much but found family and magic on their side. But if they can't find hope in a hopeless situation against the ultimate evil, no one can. If you vibe with sacrilege, and enjoy flawed, funny characters, family antics, awkward slow burn romances, complex but accessible lore, legacy heroes, ancient monsters, chaos, magic, and mayhem? You've found the series for you.

Please do whatever is accessible to you: liking, sharing, and donating are all extremely important to make this project a reality. This means a lot to me and I greatly appreciate your support.

Thank you for your time,

Raven Rose

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Country Roads, Take Me Home

Chapter 15 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: sorry this took two whole months… updates should be quicker now though!!

The snow starts to melt away, leaving gray sludge behind, and even though the skies turn blue and the sun comes out, it’s still close to freezing most days. Still, it’s as close to spring as you'll get before summer starts, so you’re going to enjoy it.

You start walking to work again, enjoying the sunshine all bundled up in your coats and scarves, music playing softly through your headphones. As awful as winter normally is, it wasn’t as horrendous as years past; the worst of the season was spent with people who love you and you’re starting to find those little slivers of happiness in every day. Still, you’re glad that spring is starting to show itself.

The days pass by slowly, but it doesn’t feel as if time is crawling. Instead, you simply enjoy yourself in everything you do and realize how wonderful your life has become. Even a year ago, if someone would have told you how happy you are now, you would have laughed in their faces.

Sure, you still have some rough days and it wasn’t as if you were completely miserable before, but in general terms, you’re doing so much better. You have wonderful friends, a great job with a boss who genuinely cares for you, and time to pursue your artwork, which people seem to enjoy.

Life has been wonderful and crazy and beautiful, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

It’s during these months, where your routine doesn’t feel as stifling as it used to, that Poe throws you for a loop.

The most consistent thing throughout the changing of the seasons is your weekly get-togethers with your friends. Sure, you see Rose almost every day and Rey, Finn, and Poe pop in while you’re working all the time, but these Friday night traditions always give you something to look forward to. No matter how shitty of a week you had, being with your friends seems to make everything better.

One evening, towards the end of February when the weather can’t decide if it wants to be winter or spring, the five of you are seated on Finn’s couch, laughing away at the ending of some shitty movie and eating from the array of snacks you’d all brought. It’s nice and comforting and leaves you feeling warm all over, and it’s exactly what you needed after a long week.

And then, as the credits roll, Poe begins to ask a question.

“I was thinking of heading home for a few days, spend some time with my dad, if any of you want to come with?” He’s speaking to the group, but he’s looking right at you, “I know he wouldn’t mind sharing his time with me with you guys.”

Now everyone’s looking at you, as if this question wasn’t directed at everyone and you’re the only one who can answer.

“What weekend?” You ask instead, terrified that this is a test and you’re about to say the wrong thing.

“Dunno yet, a few weeks from now.”

Everyone’s staring at you as if your answer is the most important thing in the world.

“That should work for me,” you respond, eyes flicking around to look at all of your friends.

“That doesn’t work-“

“Sorry I’m busy-“

“Someone has to watch Bee-“

They all answer at the same time, smug looks on their face as if they just pulled off the heist of the century, even though they’re not as subtle as they hope. You roll your eyes, almost on instinct, because of course they’d try to pull something like this, as if you can’t tell what they’re doing.

Poe, however, seems oblivious, jumping right on into logistics and travel time and what weekends work best for you, even as you’re staring daggers at Finn across from you, who’s pretending you’re not there.

The evening ends, but not before you scowl so much you’re almost convinced your face will stay like that. You know your friends have good, if a bit ridiculous, intentions, but it still bothers you, how you feel as if you’d walked into a trap.

Still, you try not to dwell on it, and instead spend the next few weeks freaking out about what you’d actually agreed to. You’ll be spending four whole days with Poe and his dad, and as much as you enjoy both of them, you can’t help feeling like an intruder already.

The day before you’re supposed to leave, you FaceTime Finn as you’re arm deep in cookie batter, having a mental battle with yourself.

“I should just call it off, right?” You don’t give him time to say hello, “This is totally crazy and I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

You pause what you’re doing to really look at Finn, to let him take in the pure stress radiating off of you, “We’re leaving at 3 AM tomorrow, I’m not even done packing, and I’m baking cookies.”

“Ok, so maybe you’re a little bit of an idiot,” Finn concedes, if only to make you crack a smile.

He’d been the one to listen to your anxious rambling for days, listening to you wonder if it was too late to tell Poe you changed your mind. Finn had also been the one to talk you back from the ledge, to remind you of how much you enjoy spending time with Poe and how nice his dad is.

And, if Finn maybe had some ulterior motive for you to be going on this trip, you had no idea.

“Fine, whatever, I’m hanging up now because you’re no help.”

“Love you!” Finn shouts out as he hangs up, knowing that your cookie dough covered hands are in no state to touch your phone.

Trying to relax your mind, you throw a few trays of cookies into the oven before returning to your bedroom and the disastrous state of your suitcase, with clothes and toiletries thrown around. With a slightly clearer mind, it doesn’t take long for you to nicely fold and pack the clothes you’re taking and fill up a small bag with all the toiletries you’ll need.

With everything looking cleaner, you head back out into the kitchen to pack up the cookies that are cooled and take the fresh ones out of the oven. While waiting for the new batch to cool down enough to get thrown into a package, you make a list of everything you’ll need to grab before you leave tomorrow.

Once the cookies are all packed up and your list has been double and triple checked, you head off to bed, hoping to get at least a few solid hours of sleep before your alarm goes off.

It seems like you’ve barely closed your eyes when your alarm goes off, but you still dutifully haul yourself out of bed and groggily finish all your last minute tasks. When you get the text from Poe that he’s outside, you’d been sitting half-asleep at your kitchen table, your bags at your feet and the container of cookies hugged to your chest.

After taking a few minutes to maneuver yourself downstairs with your suitcase and bag of snacks for the day-long car ride and your box of cookies, you finally arrive at Poe’s car. He looks just as tired as you are, but he still smiles at you like you make the world turn when he sees you. It would be impossible not to smile back.

He’s dressed comfortably, wearing a worn-in hoodie you can’t help but daydream about stealing, with his curls strewn about his head, as if he’s been running his hands through them over and over. You can’t help but wonder how it would feel, to trail your fingers across his scalp, to twine the soft-looking ringlets around your fingers.

“There’s coffee for you in the cup holder. Green mug,” he says as a greeting, hauling your bags into the backseat while you climb into the passenger side. As much as you both know you’re perfectly capable of putting your own bags in the car, you know not to argue about it by now.

Instead, you take the time to notice how cozy Poe’s made his car for this drive. There are blankets settled in your footwell, the coffee he mentioned sitting next to his own orange travel mug, and a few pillows piled in the backseat. You notice his own bag of snacks, placed perfectly within your reaching distance.

He really does think of everything.

Soon after he’s easing away from the curb and giving you another quiet greeting, you find yourself drifting off to sleep. It would be practically impossible to stay awake, with the gentle movements of the car and the warmth from the heater and the blankets you’d piled on top of yourself. You feel sorry for Poe, who has no choice but to stay awake and drive, but soon your head is lulling against the window as you nap.

By the time your eyes flutter open for good, the sun is rising and large, empty fields are rushing past your window.

“Have a nice nap?” Poe asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye with a teasing smile.

“Mhm,” you pick up your travel mug, taking a long sip and letting the warmth run through you.

Even though Poe’d been teasing you, that was probably the best nap you’ve ever had. You were warm and comfortable and once you fell asleep you were out cold. Now, Poe has the radio playing softly, occasionally tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

The fields passing by your window are empty of snow, and even the sunlight makes it seem warm. You’re thankful that Poe’s from someplace warm, where you don’t need to worry about getting frostbite if you step outside for a moment in what should be spring.

“How much longer?” You ask, twisting yourself around to grab some of the snacks you’d brought.

“‘Bout six more hours,” Poe responds, laughing as your mouth drops open. God, you just want to record that laugh and play it on repeat whenever you’re feeling down.

Sometimes it seems like Poe’s made of pure sunshine, with his brilliant smile and bright laugh, his unwavering support and seemingly endless joy. It makes sense that he’d grown up in the Sunshine State, running around barefoot between orange trees and splashing in the ocean.

He seems like he belongs somewhere as warm and bright as he is, but you’re not sure you could make it through winter without him.

The next few hours pass by with more of the same; quiet music on the radio, snacking, sporadic conversations, and nothing but fields to look at. Of course, you could always just sit and ogle Poe, but you’d rather not get caught staring at his gorgeous side profile before spending four days with just him and his father.

It’s peaceful, though, and time seems to fly by as the conversation picks up the more awake you and Poe become. Even though you’ve been on the road for a few hours, it’s still painfully early.

Right before noon, Poe pulls into a rest stop, turns off the car, and immediately hops out to stretch his legs. You follow suit, watching through the car windows as Poe leans into the backseat and digs around in one of his bags before pulling out some sandwiches.

Walking around to the other side of the car, you grab the food from his hands and turn to make your way to a bench.

“C’mon, we can have a picnic,” you call over your shoulder, turning slightly to see if Poe’s following you or not. He is.

“I would’a been fine eating while driving,” Poe grumbles, even as he sits down next to you and takes the food back. He hands you your sandwich, and you unwrap it with a hum.

“I know that, but you can take a little break. We’ll just get there a few minutes later than you’d planned,” you reason before taking a bite of your food. You can’t remember ever discussing your sandwich preferences with Poe, but it’s perfect and entirely unsurprising.

The two of you sit for a few minutes longer after finishing your lunches, legs stretched out onto the sidewalk. It’s nice, just sitting next to Poe in the sunshine, but too soon for your liking he checks his phone, and then you’re off to hit the road again.

This leg of the trip passes almost the same as the first, except the fields look swampier and the temperature on your phone screen continues to rise. As much as you enjoy the fall and winter, you’re ready for them to be over, so a few days in a warmer climate is going to be perfect.

“About twenty more minutes,” Poe tells you as he gets off the highway, and nerves start to grow in your belly. As relaxed as you’d been all day, you’d totally forgotten to feel anxious, and now it’s coming back in full force. You try not to let it show, taking a few deep breaths as you look out the window at the small town passing by.

The town gets left behind, and after a few more minutes on country roads, Poe’s pulling into a driveway. It’s a large house, with a wrap-around porch complete with a porch swing and a flower bed in the front. You can’t see the backyard from here, but from what Poe’s told you, there’s a handful of orange trees back there.

You’re not parked for long before you see the front door open and hear the excited yipping of a dog. Kes makes his way down the front steps as you exit the car, the dog bounding down around him and running straight at you. You can’t tell what kind of dog it is, but it’s big, and its tongue is lolling out of its mouth when it comes to a stop in front of you.

“Lucky, relax,” Kes shouts out as he makes his way across the gravel driveway. Poe’s busy getting all of the bags out of the car, so Kes comes over to you, gently shoves Lucky out of the way, and wraps you in a hug. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too,” you tell him as you pull back, and you hope he knows you’re being completely honest. Just seeing Kes reminds you that you truly have no reason to be nervous, because even though he’s Poe’s dad, he’s wonderful and easy to be around. Like father, like son, you suppose.

Poe greets his father, the pair hugging as Lucky jumps onto their legs.

“You haven’t calmed down at all, huh?” Poe asks the dog as he squats down to give him some hello scratches.

“Barks his damn head off every time a car drives by,” Kes responds, but you can hear the fondness in his voice.

After all of the greetings have taken place, and Lucky gets distracted by a bird hopping around the yard, you make a move to grab your bags but Kes stops you.

“You’re our guest,” he tells you, holding out a hand for the handle of your suitcase, “I can bring your things up to your room, you just get settled.”

You can tell that he won’t be taking no for an answer, so you just smile and thank him and hand over your bags before following the Dameron men into the house, Lucky bounding after you all.

The interior is gorgeous, with pictures hung on every wall and splashes of color throughout the ground floor. It feels lived in and loved, exactly how a home should be. It makes sense that Poe grew up here, though you wonder how much has changed throughout the years.

Poe and his father drop the bags by the front door, meeting you in the kitchen where Lucky has flopped himself onto the floor for you to rub his belly.

“The guest room isn’t exactly usable right now, I hope you’re alright with staying in Poe’s room?” Kes asks, and you look like a deer caught in headlights.

“How is it unusable?” Poe asks his father, arms crossing over his chest.

“I had to get a new mattress, I got rid of the old one. New one isn’t here yet,” Kes leans against the counter top, raising an eyebrow at his son’s questioning.

“Why the hell did you get rid of it without getting the new one first?”

“I don’t know, Poe, I didn’t think it would take this long.” Kes pauses, looks at where you remain crouched on the kitchen floor with fear practically radiating off of you, “you gonna make our guest sleep on the couch?”

Poe sighs, “No.”

“I really don’t mind-“

“No way in hell,” Kes cuts you off, not unkindly, “Poe can sleep on the couch for a couple of nights.” With that, the conversation is over, and Poe turns to take your bags up to his room.

“I’m sorry,” you say from the doorway, feeling as if you’ve already ruined everything.

“What are you sorry for?” Poe seems genuinely curious, confusion coloring his voice. You simply shrug; you can’t just stand here and tell him you feel like you shouldn’t have come and that you ruined his visit home.

“We can share the bed, I don’t mind,” you tell him, and Poe pauses what he’s doing, standing completely still. “I mean, I don’t want you to have to sleep on the couch or the floor.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind, I’ve slept on that couch plenty.”

“I’m sure, Poe, this is your house, you can sleep in your own bed.”

With that, he finally smiles at you, and gives your arm a squeeze when he slips around you to grab his bags from the front hallway. You give yourself time to take a few deep breaths and stop yourself from totally freaking out about what you’d just agreed to, and then you head back downstairs.

“I was planning on ordering pizza, if that’s alright with you?” Kes asks as you join him in the kitchen, patting the counter as if to tell you to take a seat.

“That sounds perfect.” You tell him your preferences, and chat politely until Poe comes back downstairs. Even though you’ve only ever spent a few hours with Kes, you feel relaxed around him, able to joke around like you’ve known him your entire life.

Kes is the epitome of a dad, from the way he picks on Poe to the way he complains about Lucky while feeding him practically half of his meal. He’s kind and funny and seems like he’d give the best advice, no matter the situation. The more time you spend with him as the night goes on, the more you realize how right Finn was when he said you had nothing to worry about.

Earlier than normal, you decide to turn in for the night, the early morning and hours on the road catching up with you. Poe lets you shower first, and even though you promise to be quick, you weren’t prepared for how great it would feel to wash the day away, to stand under the warm water and let it run over you after spending all day cramped in a car.

Even though you’d taken longer than you said you would, Poe doesn’t mention anything, just grabs his towel and clothes and heads into the bathroom. Despite how badly you want to examine all the corners of his childhood bedroom, want to smile at his past obsessions and hobbies and decorating skills, you don’t want to cross any lines, so instead you claim your side of the bed and lay down, scrolling through your apps and responding to messages from Finn and Rey and Rose.

While Poe’s still in the shower, there’s a knock at the door, so you throw yourself off the bed despite how comfortable you’d been because you don’t want to seem rude. When you open the door, Lucky squeezes his way past Kes, who’s arms are full of blankets, and makes himself at home on your bed.

“I know Poe can be a blanket hog, just wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” Kes says as he enters the room, setting the bundle down on the bed. On top of the neatly folded pile is a set of watercolors and some paper. “Poe’s mentioned how much you like to paint, I thought it would be nice to give you the option. And hey, the sunrises here are pretty nice, if you can manage getting up that early.”

It’s such a thoughtful gift, you don’t think a simple ‘thank you’ will suffice, but you can tell from his tone that Kes doesn’t think much of it.

“That’s so thoughtful,” you tell him, hoping your eyes convey the words you can’t manage to figure out, “thank you.”

As expected, Kes just shrugs it off with a smile before he calls for Lucky and heads out of the bedroom.

“Sleep well,” he calls out as he closes the door, a soft, knowing smile on his face.

“Goodnight,” you reply, but the door’s already closed. You hope he heard, that he doesn’t think you’d ignored him.

Almost as soon as Kes leaves, Poe enters the bedroom, still toweling off his damp hair. You slip into your side of the bed, pulling the sheets up around you while Poe stands, looking like he has something on his mind.

“Do you want me to build a little wall of pillows?” He offers, already setting into action to grab the supplies he’d need for his little construction project.

“I think I can handle myself for one night,” you smile, trying to come off as you’re joking even though hints of the truth are leaking through.

Poe finally stops his searching and nods, standing still for a few seconds before finally turning off the lights and moving into the bed.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, and you’re surprised by how close he sounds.

“Goodnight,” you respond, trying to decide exactly how mortifying it would be for Poe to wake up with you wrapped around him like a koala.

You try to put that thought aside, and let your exhaustion from the day wash over you, snuggling deeper under the covers and falling asleep almost immediately.

When you wake, there’s sunlight streaming through the curtains, and you feel something warm pressed up against you. Cracking your eyes open, you realize that it’s Poe; you’re pressed up against his side, face tucked against his neck, while his arm wraps around your waist and holds you close to him.

Immediately, your heart ticks up, pounding against your ribcage and you try and figure out the best way to move away without waking Poe. Though, the more you think about it, you’d slept better than you had in ages and Poe seems comfortable. So, instead of moving away, you tuck yourself back into Poe’s neck and close your eyes, letting the gentle back and forth movement of his fingers along your side to lull you back to sleep.

Only a few minutes later, you feel Poe move against you, hear his breathing pick up as he wakes. You pretend to still be sleeping, and you have to ignore the pain in your chest as he extracts himself from your hold. Instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, though, he creeps over to the bathroom, careful not to wake you.

When he returns, you’re sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through your phone.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks, and you’d forgotten how much you loved how scratchy and soft his voice sounded in the morning.

“Great,” you tell him honestly, “better than I have in years.”

Poe smiles, bashful, before telling you he’s going to head downstairs and make coffee if you feel like joining him. You make yourself a bit more presentable and meet Poe in the kitchen, where your coffee is already sitting on the counter, just the way you like it.

The two of you head out on the porch, mugs in hand, and sit next to each other on the wooden swing. You’d slept too late to see the sunrise, but the morning light washing over the open expanse of road and plants is stunningly beautiful. The air is balmy, with the promise of heat to come later in the day.

Poe’s thigh is pressing against yours, and neither of you move away, just sitting silently next to each other as you sip on your coffee. It’s hard not to think about the future, about how you’d want to do this everyday. This might be paradise, you think, feeling lighter than you have in months as the sun washes over the landscape and creeps under the awning to play across the wooden porch.

“Can I tell you something?” Poe asks, looking out towards the horizon, fingers drumming against his mug as he uses his feet to gently push the swing forward and back.

“Of course.” You couldn’t stop looking at him even if you tried, with the way the breeze ruffles his bed-head curls and the sunlight frames his profile like a halo.

“You’re my best friend.”

Tags: @zoriis @andr0medafallen @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @aellynera @creatively-analytical @tiquinntheghost @luckynachos @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22 @poopirate @loonymagizoologist @stvnnie @campingwiththecharmings @outmodead @welcometostayingawake

[lovelykhaleesiii]

I was really contemplating on whether I should even make a post on this or not, but I thought I might just to enlighten the few that might actually care.

I’m not feeling great at all with my stance in this fandom anymore… I feel very much an outcast and on the sidelines, which is fine from time to time but now I’ve gotten to a point where I’m just not happy & I straight up feel forgotten.

ontop of this feeling, I am completely burntout with everything. my work as amazing as it can be, is also incredibly stressful, physically and mentally exhausting, on top of personal things I have to deal with.

this fandom used to be a safe haven and a sweet escape from the reality of it all but it no longer feels that way, and it’s crushing.

if you want my genuine answer, I just feel like no one really gives a shit about me unless I post a fic or otherwise. which I mean, at the end of the day I am completely aware that’s my main output on here, but I’m also a person too. it’s a wonderful feeling when people genuinely want to get to know me or show an interest in my fics, but I suppose that’s not the case. & I feel it’s such a rarity for me. my fics are far from perfect, believe me I know…

I may just be going on a tangent into a void out here but this is my way of saying I don’t think I’ll be as interactive anymore. I don’t feel like I’m receiving the same as I have shown & I’m just really come to point where I have nothing more to give and for what? and I am no fool to know that everyone has their own lives also, but this feeling has been pestering me for a while now & I don’t often share my thoughts or life updates regularly, nor am I the best person when it comes to sharing my emotions. but I haven’t been myself lately on here and I feel like no one’s really noticed.

regardless, the fics I post are utmost, for my enjoyment. anyone else that wishes to indulge, can also. I will continue to read fics and show my support to authors/artists, because I wouldn’t wish this feeling onto anyone else & it truly is the small things that make such a difference…

my dm’s were and are always open & my asks also (but I feel what’s the point and might just close it). I won’t be as active as I’ve said so forgive me for it replying quick.

I have nothing more to say other than I am just so… done.

sending my love always to wherever you are, Hel x

a little shoutout to these amazing people - @aemondsmoon @sahvlren @sugarpopss thank you guys for being such a wonderful light during this unfortunate time for me. you have no idea how much our little conversations mean, and am grateful to call you friends 💓

[canyouhearthelight]

Chapter 18: Social Engineering

Lights, Camera, Action! Lash and Nils go public and dare people to call their bluff. The interview goes slightly off the rails, with good reason.

@baelpenrose, as co-author and beta reader for this chapter, did a great job making sure the reporters were as 'paparazzi' as possible.

I can fake a smile

I can force a laugh

I can dance and play the part

If that's what you ask

Give you all I am

Christina Perri, “Only Human”

Lash

By the time Lucas had returned to the hospital, Mori had pulled herself together and was in full combat general mode.  Neither Nils nor I had clued her in to our plan regarding shaming the hospital into covering the cost of care for everyone involved in the fire, and I was grateful that he hadn’t mentioned it in front of her.  With her focused on our parents’ care and haranguing doctors and nurses for updates, I could focus on dealing with the reporters who were already descending on the hospital.

Nils was hovering next to me, his hand close to mine. “Important to ask because a whole lot of people are going to ask unimportant shit and we need to be on the same page to avoid idiot drama that will deflect from our goal: we’re a couple or just good friends? It doesn’t matter what our answer is as long as it’s the same one.” He took a breath. “If you don’t have the emotional bandwidth for that, easy way out is ‘we stick to whatever bullshit they feed us until the cameras go away and something else dominates the news cycle’.” 

I thought it about for a brief moment. “We’re going to be doing a lot of lying, let’s have one less to keep track of. Stick to the truth: we’re friends who recently went on our first date and you were meeting my parents when everything went down.  If someone sticks a camera in my parents’ faces later down the road, they won’t have to think to confirm that.”

He nodded. “That works well enough. Okay, so to clarify our story: The hospital admins - someone even I, with all my familiarity with the hospital staff don’t know by sight - offered this to the people injured in this crisis as a one-time matter because they recognize the extraordinary circumstances involved. They recognize the crisis in the community and have risen to the occasion. We can say some nice things about the doctors that let them share the glory the local news is going to be throwing at us because hey, local news loves a hero. Hospital will be really reluctant to give it back if they can trade for political favors later.”

“Oh, I cannot wait to hear you say nice things about your father.  On camera, where everyone can see it,” I teased, trying to bleed off some of my anxiety.  Truth be told, any anonymity I had up until now was about to be blasted out the window when we spoke to these reporters.  And I would have to use my real name, or my online persona was toast.

The thought immediately made my heart sink, tears prickling my eyes. Toast. The burned out cafe, all those lives wasted… and for what? Because some hateful asshole thought he had the right to - 

I didn’t even realize I was speaking out loud until Nils bumped me with his shoulder. “Hey. I’m not going to tell you it’s okay, because it isn’t. But right now, we can honor the dead by taking care of the living. So let’s focus, okay? We can figure out whoever did this and get it back in blood later.” He offered me his hand. “For right now though, let’s go get some debts waived.” 

He gave a very subtle gesture towards the window, where to my horror, I could already see news vans outside, prevented from accessing the building. Vultures. I took a deep breath, took his hand, and squeezed it. “We look like burn victims, right?” When he nodded, I nodded back. “Then let’s do this before someone stops us.”

The moment we stepped outside the door, hospital wristbands conspicuously visible, we were swarmed.  I played up my shock by turning slightly into Nils, shielding my eyes. Four microphones were shoved in our faces, a female voice demanding “Were you at the fire earlier this evening?”

“Yes,” I answered. “We were inside with my parents when the fire was started.”

“Are you saying the fire was deliberate?” came a male voice from behind the blinding lights on the cameras.

“Absolutely. Someone blocked the exits and threw a burning bottle of something into the cafe.”

Nils took over at that point. “Molotov cocktails. The cafe had been the victim of several attempted arsons prior to this, according to the late owner, Ahmet Yildiz, who had, by the time this last fire claimed his life, given up on getting a proper investigation. He died attempting to help evacuate his customers and community.” His voice was clear, cold, and his words managed to bring across institutional neglect without actually blaming anyone of importance.  “He wasn’t the only one.”

“We were lucky,” I choked out through a lump in my throat. “We have minor burns and some smoke inhalation, but right now my parents and many others are in surgery or the ICU.  One is in the PICU.” As that last part sank in, some of the reporters and camera people around us gasped. “And we are all the lucky ones. At least three people never made it out, and we don’t know if everyone else is going to make it.”

A burst of chatter from the back of the reporters, then one of the men in the front asked a question I’d been dreading. “Can I get you two to identify yourselves?”

“My name is Elakshi Botelho. My parents, Sahar and Lorso Botelho, are still undergoing tests and treatment.”

“And mine is Nils Andover. My father is one of the doctors in the hospital, and my mother works as a lawyer.”

“We’ve heard both of your names from other witnesses at the scene, several of whom credit the two of you with a bulk of the rescues, what exactly happened during the evacuation?” Nils’ eyes flicked towards me. 

I gave the tiniest of nods and took a deep breath. “The only exit was on fire. Nils was able to open one of the metal gates over the other exits.  He, my father, and Uncle - Mr. Yildiz helped carry people out while my mother and I wrapped everyone in whatever cloths we could wet to keep them from getting burned or inhaling smoke.  Nils and my father managed to get me and my mother out just before the cafe exploded.”  My voice was trembling towards the end, and I let the tears just roll down my cheeks. I was too tired to fight them, and it probably helped our cause anyway.

“Have you spoken with authorities about the attack?” the first woman asked.

“With all due respect, I have been more concerned about my family and my community,” I responded. “We plan to speak to authorities when they reach out.”

Nils gave my hand a small pump, as though communicating silently that I’d said the perfect thing, then responded to the next question. “What went through both your heads when the fire went up?”

“Need to exit, wait, the exit is on fire, hey the windows, wait, the windows are blocked and they’re hot, oh wait, I have a leather jacket that can protect my hands while I open them.” Nils managed to drag his normal sarcasm with a trace of entirely uncharacteristic humility as though that was a chain of thoughts that would have occurred to a normal person to describe it all so dismissively. “Following that, ‘hey, leather jackets are fire resistant, I should probably help get people out,’ and somewhere in there is ‘thank God everyone here is sane, compassionate, and also helping’.” 

He took a breath. “Genuinely though, it’s amazing how much everyone came together in the fire, her dad, the cafe owner, her, her mom, everyone just kinda went for it and tried to help as much as possible, evacuate people as fast as possible, tried to help medic as much as possible. The hospital’s risen to the occasion too, in the face of all this: they said they were going to take care of the victims of this attack without charge, and they’ve been giving the victims amazing care.” 

The reporters went wild when Nils dropped that bit of ‘news’ on them. One managed to shout above the others a question about whether Nils’ family connection to the hospital had anything to do with that decision. “Both our fathers work for the hospital,” I confirmed when I felt him jerk like he’d been shot. “But the hospital has very much made this decision out of recognition for what can only be called a heinous act of terror committed against a small community.”

“Is it appropriate for you two to apply terrorism charges to an unknown…”

Nils’ voice cut across the question, coldly. “We just walked out of a building that exploded - killing at least three people - because a bunch of people set it on fire because they didn’t like that the owner was from the Middle East, after the building had been graffitied, repeatedly, with anti-Arab racial slurs. Terrorism is ‘violence committed against civilians for political reasons’ - what the FUCK would you call this if not that?” 

I noticed that Nils left out the ‘by nonstate actors’ part from the definition of ‘terrorism.’ Regardless, murmurs rippled through the crowd.  The point had been gotten across and given them something to chew on for local reports.  The first reporter to recover decided to pursue that point. “Is there anything you would like to say to the people who are responsible for the fire?”

By this point, I was shaking with emotion and dying to go back inside and sit down in a quiet place, see my parents breathing. “You burned down a popular shop full of customers who were minding their own business. There are women dying upstairs for drinking tea and gossiping about their grandchildren.  My cousin, Imran, is dead because he was picking up pastries for his wife and daughters.  My parents are severely injured because they were there to meet the young man I had just gone on a first date with. You attacked people for being people and having lives.  You are a coward, and I hope you have every day you deserve for the rest of your life.”  In that moment, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I spun, pulling my hand free from Nils’ and storming back into the hospital.

I heard Nils answer one more question in a capacity that barely managed to conceal impatience verging on contempt - though that might have been my familiarity with him, the reporters seemed charmed - before I heard him rushing after me. 

“I think we did it, Lash. You alright?”

Brushing tears from my cheeks, I laughed bitterly. “I am the furthest thing from alright. I want to see Mama and Baba, and I want Baba’s beard to scratch my cheek when he hugs me, even though I know his face is burned and his beard is gone. I want Mama to be nosy and pat my cheek and her bracelets clatter and her rings to bump my cheekbone like they do.  I want Mori to be here to visit, not to help make sure my parents are going to survive.  I want to go get coffee and have Uncle wink at me when he sneaks me extra baklava, and I can’t have any of it.”  Without even thinking, I turned and buried my face in his chest, charred leather smell be damned.

“We’ll stay here for them, okay? We’ll be the first thing they see when they wake up. Promise. Your mom isn’t going to be long - it’ll be longer for your dad. But your mom should be coming out within an hour or two at this point.” Nils hugged me then, as though on impulse. His chin fit exactly on top of my head, and he was patient enough to let me ugly cry on him until all I was left with were sniffles and hiccups.

He said nothing about what I must look like after all that, only steadying me. “I think you need your sister right now. Let’s go find her.  She reminds me of your mom, so she probably knows exactly what to do.”

[cypanache]

Hi! I recently read Patchwork Heart (like twice in two days) and I now have brainrot from that fic. (Which is to say that I loved it.) And I’m sad that it’s incomplete but I’m grateful that you wrote it, and all your other Parks and Rec fics. I remember reading a comment from you (from like 11 years ago lol) where you said you’d been writing for 14 years and you encouraged someone who was feeling bad about their own writing. Which gave me the motivation to keep writing, and made me think, how awesome must it be to be a fanfic writer for so long? This is a rambly comment to say that I’m glad you’re still writing (even if it’s not for Parks heh) and you’re a great inspiration!

(Also I’m aware this isn’t a question but I don’t really know how Tumblr works)

Well this ask officially made my year. (P.S. - Asks don't have to be questions. Especially when they're as lovely as this)

You know every once in a while I think, am I being totally ridiculous just leaving my live journal out there like that? Really, who's going out and reading stuff from over 11 years ago, except ... yeah I've totally done that myself. And I'm forever grateful for the authors who let their stuff just float along and exist. So I'm gratified to know that I did that for you today. And extremely gratified to know that I was able to give you a little motivation to keep writing. I have been doing this for over twenty years with varying levels of success and intensity as my life evolves, but I keep coming back to it, because really at the end of the day, fanfic is one of those hobbies that more than anything make me feel like me. When you find that, you owe it to yourself to hold onto it. Even if you can't do it perfectly or quickly.

I am not going to lie, I'm very sad Patchwork Heart is incomplete as well. That was an unfortunate product of life circumstances overwhelming me and by the time I paddled my way to the surface my emotional relationship with Parks had changed. But I am forever in love with the complete human disaster that was teenage Ben Wyatt in that fic.

Sooooo this isn't much, but this ask made me go back through my google docs. Here have part of a camping trip:

Griggs-Knope-Wyatt (Whatever) Family Vacation  

Hell – 375-369 days to go

Yeah, it’s official, Ben does not get camping.

At all.

Look he gave it a fair try.  But he just-  he doesn’t get it all right.  He doesn’t get what’s so fun about sleeping on the floor (”Ground,” Marlene informs him, “It’s called a ground when it’s outside, dear.") or getting so many mosquito bites, or having to make sure your food is put up in a certain way so raccoons won’t get to it.  And you know what he really doesn’t get?

Ghost stories.

He does not get ghost stories.  They’re not scary.  They’re particularly not scary if your dad is telling them.  And when your step-mom takes over and does manage to tell a scary one, well then you’re outside, in the dark . . . scared.

Oh and his tent collapses on him in the middle of the night.

Yup, okay.  Not.  Having.  Fun.

Ben just wishes he could convince himself that’s actually because of the camping.

Leslie’s been withdrawn and subdued for the past two days.  Not angry, just quiet.  He tried to talk to her yesterday morning like a dozen times, but the one time he got anywhere the fact he was trying to take the whole thing seriously only seemed to make it all worse.

He doesn’t know what to do for her.  Has the sneaking suspicion there’s actually nothing he can do.  Or at least nothing he’s willing to do.

So yeah, maybe he’s going to just lie here under the wreckage of what used to be his tent for a little while.

Except he can’t even seem to manage that, because the next thing he knows there’s the sound of footsteps and a flashlight is being shined into his eyes like an interrogation lamp.

“Benjamin?”

Ben holds up a hand to shield his eyes and squints up at the outline of his step-mother standing over him.  “Umm, hi?”

“Benjamin dear.  Your tent’s on the ground,” she informs him as though she’s not entirely sure he’s aware of this fact.  Sometimes he’s pretty sure his step-mother thinks he’s an idiot.      

“Yeah, so umm, funny story about that.  You know what it was, it-  it fell.”

The fact he always winds up saying stuff like that around her probably doesn’t help.

Marlene doesn’t respond for long moment, and even though he can’t see her face he can pretty much picture it.  It’s a face he’s pretty familiar with.  The one that says ‘I worry about your ability to dress yourself in the mornings’.

“I don’t-  I’ve never really camped,” he continues, unable to help himself.  Marlene’s silences are just about the most effective interrogation technique he’s ever encountered.  No wonder Leslie’s usually so talkative.

“I never would have guessed,” she shoots back, before adding, “Well, should I just leave the two of you alone or would you like some help putting it back up?”

“No- no, help would be good.”

There’s a long pause, then:  “Ben, dear.”

“Yeah?”

“You need to get out of the tent.”

“Oh.  Right.”

---

So in a surprising turn of events (at least in his opinion), Marlene actually turns out to be a pretty good teacher.  Like okay she isn’t the most patient person in the world, but she’s incredibly precise in her explanations of how to do things like tie a hitch-knot, and Ben’s always been more comfortable with precision over intuition, so it doesn’t take him too terribly long to catch on, and when she pats him lightly on the knee in approval, it feels like getting an A in your most demanding class from the teacher who scares the shit out of you.

All in all, Ben’s feeling kind of good about things by the time they get the tent back up, so when Marlene points out that it’s only an hour or so until sunrise and asks whether he wants to help her make coffee for breakfast, he says yes, thinking maybe things are looking up.  

Yeah, no, that was obviously just designed to lull him into a false sense of security.

“So,” Marlene opens without warning or preamble, “Leslie tells me I’m returning the Purdue sweatshirt.”

He barely manages not to tip over his cup of coffee. “Yeah, um, sorry about that.”

“Ben didn’t we talk about that? Um-”

“Is the sound in dumb.  Yeah I know.”

The look she gives him could level small countries.  Ben keeps his head down and tries not to have an aneurysm.

How does he get himself into these situations?  Really why is it sarcastic, smart-aleck things always come out of his mouth at exactly the wrong time.  It’s not like he’s trying to be a wise-ass.  He’s not really trying to be anything really.  (Except maybe invisible.  Invisible would be nice right now.)  But for some reason it happens anyway, and he can’t seem to stop it.  It’s like this leak, this crack in his personality.  Ninety-five percent of the time he manages to be exactly the kind of guy he should be, the kind he thinks Virginia Wyatt would have wanted him to be.  The kind of son his perpetually fragile father seems to need.  Quiet and polite and respectful.  But every once in awhile the pressure of keeping everything else in just gets to be too much and these little drops of acid seep through, landing where they’re not wanted and scarring once they’re there.

Except Marlene Griggs-Knope doesn’t scar that easily.

“Oh, sit up straight.  Really, Ben if you keep going through life acting like a spineless jellyfish, it won’t just be Leslie who treats you like one.”

“I don’t.” he mutters under his breath.

Only he says it to the picnic table so that probably undermines his whole protest.  He forces himself to sit up and look Marlene in the eye (Okay, it’s more like her forehead, but come on, cut him a little slack here.  Do you want to look Marlene in the eye?  Yeah, that’s what he thought.  Shut up.</i>)

“Leslie doesn’t-”

But he can’t make himself complete the thought, because . . . yeah, sometimes she kind of does.  And, shit, it’s Leslie’s mom, and Marlene’s giving him this look that clearly says ‘don’t bullshit me about my own daughter.’  Still, Leslie treats everyone like that, at least everyone important to her.  Ann gets, like, twenty-three instructions a day.  And, well, he likes it.  It’s been a really long time since anyone paid that much attention to anything he did.  It’s how he knows he’s important, that she cares.  If she ever stopped trying to micromanage his life, well then he’d just be another ordinary person on the outside, wouldn’t he?

He opens his mouth to try again, but Marlene waves his efforts away with a dismissive hand.  Oh good, apparently he’s now already used up whatever small amount patience she had allotted for him today, and it’s only, what?  Five-thirty in the morning?  This is probably some kind of new record for him.

Yaaaay . . .

At that moment from across the campsite, Leslie unzips her tent and steps out into the new dawn, only to freeze, eyes going wide, at the obviously unexpected sight of Ben sitting at the picnic table with her mother.

He tries to remember enough Morse code to blink her a S.O.S.

And any other morning it wouldn’t matter that he’s pretty sure he just looks like he’s having an epileptic fit, Leslie would have already come over and rescued him. 

Instead she just turns back around, grabs her towel and a bar soap out of the tent and trudges off to the shower facilities, leaving him alone with Marlene to fend for himself.

Okay, Leslie is officially really upset.

“She will get over it.”

At Marlene’s observation, Ben whips his head back around only to find himself pinned by his step-mother’s sharp assessing gaze.

It feels like all the oxygen just got sucked out of the . . . well, earth.

He opens his mouth to stammer out a disclaimer but only manages a strangled kind of gurgle, which Marlene, thankfully, ignores.

“Leslie is no stranger to disappointment.  She’s a very resilient girl.  Always has been.” She says it matter-of-factly and maybe even a little proudly, then immediately counterbalances it with a sigh of exasperation. “Realism, however, is unfortunately not your step-sister’s strong suit.  Particularly when it comes to people.”

Ben just presses his lips together and fiddles a little with his coffee cup, drumming his fingernails against the metal.  He’s not really sure why Marlene’s telling him all this.  Not that any of it is exactly revelation.  To know anything about Leslie is to know she puts too much faith in life in general and people in particular.

So no it’s not like he doesn’t realize Leslie’s been disappointed by people before—her father, Lindsay . . . And then suddenly it clicks with him, the why behind all of this.

People leave.

In Leslie’s world, people leave her.

For some reason he’s never thought about it before, about her history and the painful lessons life’s given her.  After all, he’s the one with the dead mother, the great tragedy that defined his entire fucking existence before he met her; that he wears like a poorly healed scar on his personality.  Leslie always seemed so untouched by comparison.

But she’s not.  He can see that now.

Because yeah, maybe his mother was ripped out his life.

But people walk out of hers.

By their own choice.

Of their own free will.

Ben drops his head to stare down at the film that’s started to form on his rapidly cooling coffee in shame as he realizes he’s been making plans to join them, to go off to college and then conscientiously extricate himself from her life, little by little, bit by bit, until he’s down to a subsistence diet.  To the bare-essentials of what he needs to survive.  Never once thinking about Leslie’s needs.

God, he is such an ass.

Marlene who has been silent for a little while, gets up to pour herself another cup of coffee, before coming over to sit back down and drop another bombshell on him.  “You know, sometimes I wonder if your father and I should have waited until after the two of you went to college to get married.”

Oh god. He feels a cold finger of dread crawl its way down his spine at her words, and suddenly all he can think is:  She knows.  She knows how he feels about her daughter, and he’s going to die.  Up here in all this outdoors, Marlene probably knows a dozen ways to kill him and make it look like an accident.  Maybe that’s why they’re camping in the first place.  Maybe this was her plan all along . . .

It’s about this time that the rest of what Marlene’s saying starts to sink in.  “—it’s not that we’re not happy you two get along so well.  After all, that’s the whole reason we decided to get married when we did.  Give all of us the chance to try to be a family.  But--” she purses her lips, and narrows her eyes, “Maybe we were a little too successful?”

And the terror’s back.  “Too successful?”

“Up until two days ago, all Leslie ever talked about was going to IU and being close to home.  She’s already learned the fight song.”  That makes him almost smile despite himself, because of course she has.  He bites the inside of his mouth just in time to stop it.  Marlene continues.  “And your father tells me you’ve been collecting brochures for out of state schools ever since the two of you moved to Indiana.  But suddenly here I am buying sweatshirts for Purdue.”

“I didn’t ask-”

Marlen waves his protest away.  “Of course you didn’t.”  Then in a seeming nonsequitor:  “Did you know Ann Perkins did Model UN all last year?”

-----

When I get a little more time I'll try to bullet point out for you where I was going.

[thehighpriestess1]

I’m very intrigued to read more about Gojo’s upbringing and the inevitable conversation about Hiro! It seems like Hiro is one of the biggest hurdles Y/N needs to pass through for their relationship.

I can definitely see where Y/N can give Gojo the healing he needs. He’s using humor as a defense mechanism when he really wants reassurance.

“I’m a good father aren’t i?” he plays off as a joke when he genuinely wants Y/N, love of his life, mother of his child to tell him that yes, he is, he’s not like his dad.

when he doesn’t wanna leave her in the mornings for work, he jokes around by being clingy and insufferable but i feel like he’s also partly worried that every time he embraces her it might be the last time he can. i think he addresses this in his thoughts as well.

I can see Y/N needing Gojo too, not as much as he needs her but I can tell his reassurances can help. she doubts that he loves her, she’s convinced herself gojo only wants her around because of keisuke, she was afraid to come forward about her anemia because she didn’t want gojo to think she was an unfit parent. all these insecurities that have stemmed because of gojo that i feel he’s probably the only one that can give her that reassurance that she is good enough.

Y/N trying so HARD to act like she isn’t jealous of yuri because there’s no way she still has feelings for gojo is so cute because everyone can see she’s just as downbad for gojo as he is for her 😭 you’re not slick and it’s the cutest thing. i know it’s her having her walls up to protect herself but i can’t help but giggle when she gets jealous 🤭 gojo being oblivious to Y/N and yuri’s beef too, holy fuck 😭 i wonder if he actually realized Yuri’s true feelings for him at the end when he finally banished her from the estate. he can’t be THAT dense right 😭 i guess we’ll have to see

i forgot to add this in my last essay so i’ll add it here! i absolutely love how you portrayed Gojo and Y/N. the both of them have such amazing characterizations and i’m so invested in them separately and together. you did and are doing such an amazing job giving us characters that are flawed and likeable without being frustrating to read. i love that their struggles are so realistic and arent just solved by an “i love you” and that’s it. this is genuinely a, “we have to work together and choose to move past this together if we want to make it” problem and we don’t get enough of that realistic approach. you’re an amazing author and i’m always thankful i got to read what you chose to share 🥰

and about splitting the finale, i think you decide what you feel is best! i don’t mind lengthy chapters myself, but if you wanna split it then i’m happy either way 🤭 love you and will support whatever decision you decide ❤️

Okay so this message brought happy tears . I am so grateful to have a reader like you. I write for you and I will continue to write for you. Oh gosh. My hands are shaking because I am so happy that you felt what I was trying to make the reader feel with the story.

You are right, Hiro is a big hurdle to cross and it's all about trust because Hiro does not exist anymore so y/n will have to find a way to trust Gojo or Gojo will find a way to prove to her that he is not lying.

You are so right! Gojo is using humour to hide his insecurities. Like y/n, he does not want to seem like a weak parent. He jokingly asks her but he really wants to know that he is a good father. He wanted that reassurance from y/n. Y/n has insecurities too but here she has the upper hand because Gojo has to convince y/n to stay and not the other way around. She wants to stay too but Keisuke's happiness and safety is her priority.

She is not slick at all. Our girl is jealous and Gojo is so in love that he can't see it. Y/n is a goddess in his eyes and he just can't see that she would get jealous over someone like him.

You will get to know a great deal about Gojo's early life and trauma in the next part so all I'll say is keep some tissues ready. It's not going to be pretty at all.

[so-caffeinated]

So, as a fic writer, did you ever feel pressured by readers’ demands to write more and to come back to this universe? How do you handle it? It pains me when people comment things like that on my old fics because I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to return.

This is a really good question. I definitely feel a twinge of guilt about unfinished stories, especially when people ask if I’m ever coming back to it. But for me a few things override that... 1) Can I currently tell the story they’re wanting to hear? The answer, almost always, is no. After a great deal of time away, especially if I’ve been writing elsewhere, my style has evolved, my approach to storytelling has changed, and it would likely do a disservice to the story as it currently stands to continue it with a different voice.  2) There was a reason I stopped writing it. Usually, I wrote myself into a corner and it was daunting trying to figure out how to get out of it. Nine times out of ten, the solution is to fix something many chapters before, but when you’re posting as you go, that’s not really possible.  3) Is this the best use of my time as a writer? People will want new work too. And whatever drives you will reflect your excitement and energy. Revisiting an unfinished work out of obligation... well, it would reflect that motivation too.  I’ve only successfully gone back and finished a story years after abandoning it once. I’m still very happy with it, but I strongly feel that’s the exception to how things usually go.  Writing fanfic is such a unique experience because it’s so intertwined with feedback and direct interaction with readers. I cherish it for that (all the more after publishing original works too). I do think as writers we owe our readers something, but what we owe them is our best effort at a story worth reading. That’s true whether it’s finished or not. And really, at their core, I think that’s what readers want too. There’s joy to be found in unfinished works, even if there’s also some momentary disappointment that the story doesn’t hit a conclusion. But I think that’s okay. It’s part of the fandom experience and part of how we learn and grow as writers and readers. Ultimately, I’m grateful for those comments, even with my twinges of guilt. It means they loved the experience they had with the story that was being told, and they wanted more of it. I (probably) can’t give that to them now, but I can be satisfied that they enjoyed their time with the story I was able to craft. Be gentle with yourself, anon. You created something people connected with. That’s special. Every author under the sun has unfinished works. You just happened to share yours. And it sounds like your readers are grateful for it. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

WHYY ARE YOU SOO GOOD AT WRITINGGGGGG PLEASEEEE HERE SOME KISSES AND HUGS AND PRAISE FOR THE GREAT WORK YOU OFFER TO US TRULLY❤️😭 just finished reading the first part of ANOTHER WORD FOR HOMESICK (I WANT TO SAY YOUR NAME AGAIN) | M. BACHIRA and I’m sobbing like you a write sooo bad incredibly well that I felt every emotion plus when I saw the post even though I was supposed to go to sleep I was like nahhh can’t go without reading one of my fave authors AND I WAS RIGHT (by the way it’s 3:49 and should really go to sleep but nope I’m going to read part 2 🤪).

And that’s it I really wanted to let you know how I felt and to thank you for your incredible work you writers are the best and you guys deserve everything thank you for sharing with us 🥺😍

Now I’ll go read and prepare my self for the second part sending you lots of love ❤️❤️

dearly beloved...... this ask is making me want to cry so bad u are so kind to me what the fuck!!!! on top of that u are giving me hugs and kisses...

SORRY FOR KEEPING U UP SO INCREDIBLY LATE.... im flattered u felt my fic was one losing sleep over even though u should take care of yourself!! to make such an exception for me is a great honor to me!!! i hope u are well rested by the time im answering this

it is indeed for @ficsforgaza which i want to mention as much as possible!!! a huge part of the reason i was motivated to write this fic is because it was an effort of our community and i really wanted to put forth as much as i could into making it good. im so happy to hear that u felt that way

thank you for showing love to me!! this fic has received . so much more love than i thought it would and im always consistently blown away especially because i get anxiety interacting with people all the time KJDSFjd SO i totally get like... silent reading. im grateful no matter what but it means extra when people go out of their way if u will... writers do put so much effort into their work so i totally understand tho in my mind im never applying it to me KDJSKJDS.

I HOPE WORK WAS OKAY FOR U ANON.... THANK U FOR BEING NICEYS TO ME....