#and really that should have been the ONLY energy between those three

[gustingirl]

Me, slides you a note that says:

You know the "right in front of my salad" meme? Well, it's House fucking Wilson, in front of Cuddy

Me, immediately running away giggling

KJDCFKSJC NO BUT SERIOUSLY that's the energy of like the first 6 seasons

[purplecoffee13]

The Silent Type*

Summary: “Harry, the quiet guy in the office, has silently admired you during your time working for the firm. Now that your work there is done, Harry finds that he can’t let you go just yet…”

Wc: 5k

Tropes: colleagues (ceorry/nerdrry)

Warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, daddy kink, switch sub/dom dynamics, oral, choking

A/N: SUP Y’ALL!!!! God I have just been waiting to be able to write again! I still have some exams coming up next week, but I spent all evening writing this one shot because I have been dying to get back into it😋 This is my first time writing a more subrry tinted fic, so I hope you enjoy it!

General Masterlist

if you want to support me more than liking or sharing, you can consider buying me a coffee!

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Harry has never been one to talk much.

It is one of the reasons why he chose the career of software developing. Most of it, he could do on his own.

It wasn't so much that Harry hated people, he just preferred his own company. More people tend to complicate things, and Harry is a more logical guy.

That was until he met you.

About three months ago, the company for which Harry worked had started their expansion, and he was to lead the people transferred to that section of the firm. With the expansion also came new employees, and that’s where you came in.

You had been temporarily hired by the company to weed out applicants, and assist the current HR manager to help with the job interviews.

Harry still remembers that first day when you walked into the office, all nervous and fidgety. He had spotted you through the glass walls of his office, and couldn't physically tear his eyes off of you.

It wasn't until your third day helping in the office, that you actually met Harry. You had no idea what to think of him. Well, besides the obvious, of course. He was ridiculously handsome, and from the way he was staring at you, you figured that maybe he was thinking something like that about you too.

But he didn't talk.

Your first time meeting consisted of nothing but a gruff 'nice to meet you' from Harry's side, and no input in the rest of the conversation whatsoever. It was only a couple days later, when you asked the HR manager about it, that you found out that's just how he was, that he didn't really talk to anyone. From that moment on, there had been a surge of motivation to let him make you the one exception.

Harry was just fascinated by you, and he had no idea why. You were a ball of energy, talking so fast you'd think someone had clicked on your 'sped up' button, and you were chaotic, all over the place. The amount of times he watched you bump into people was impossible to keep count of.

Then, one day, you bumped into him. It should have angered him, the spilt coffee on his pants. But he had an extra suit, and you looked so worried, he didn't want to make you feel worse. You still felt bad, though, so you decided to make it up to him, and started getting him coffee every morning.

By the end of the first week, he looked you in the eyes when he thanked you. By the end of the fourth, he'd ask you how you are and recall things you'd told him. By the end of sixth, he told you things about his life, and by the end of the tenth week, you were having longer conversations with him.

It was difficult to keep up the small talk with him in the beginning. You soon found out that his lone wolf attitude may had something to do with his awkwardness. You thought, perhaps people weren't willing to work through that, and eventually he just stopped trying.

Such a prospect made you sad, and it only motivated you more to get to know him better. Of course, the longing glances, and standing unnecessarily close to each other with his knuckles barely touching your arm, those things helped too.

There was an undeniable tension between the two of you that you found incredibly difficult to decipher. The way he'd let you catch him looking at you gave it away quite clearly, but the lack of any real initiative confused you.

Had you read it all wrong? Did he even think there was something there too?

Unfortunately, there was no way to find out, as your assignment at the company was coming to an end. Today had been your last day, and tonight is a launch party to officially celebrate the expansion of the company.

You were a little sad to leave the company, especially since you really liked the people working there. It is why you are most excited for tonight.

Wearing a long yellow dress—it is your favorite color—you stride into the building. You are mesmerized by all the balloons and how pretty everyone looks. Wearing expensive suits or classy dresses. You immediately realize you might be a bit too happily dressed; everyone is wearing darker colors.

It does make it easy for everyone to spot you, though. By the time you've gotten your drink, five people have already walked up to you. About half an hour into the party, the CEO of the company takes the stage to give a small speech.

"I would like to thank everyone who has participated in making this expansion go as smoothly as it did. Your work does not go unnoticed." He says through the microphone. Everyone claps for a few seconds, and the man waits to go on until it is quiet again.

"Now, I have a special announcement to make. I have wanted to make this expansion happen since I began working for this company in 1988. Now that I finally have, I feel that my job at this firm is done. And so, I have decided to retire from my position as CEO."

Your eyes widen at the speech; you had no idea this was even a thing. By the sound of the gasps and murmurs traveling through the room, you deduce that the news is unexpected for the rest of the company as well.

"It is also with great pride that I present the new CEO of our company, chosen after careful consideration. If mr. Harry Styles could please join me on stage."

Your mouth falls open at the mention of Harry's name, and you are certain you will never be able to close it again when you see him walking onto the stage. He wears a black suit, perfectly tailored to his body, and the sight of him has you concerned that you may be drooling.

The bald man hands the microphone to Harry, who does not look very pleased to be on stage; it almost seems like he is regretting his decisions. Until his eyes meet yours, that is when you see him let out a breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson." He says, breaking eye contact to look at his former boss.

Right, that was his name, Johnson.

"I look forward to leading this company into more successes, and I promise that I will put my heart and soul into it. I have worked at this firm ever since I graduated college and they offered me a job during my internship, and it is safe to say that I have not regretted that decision a day of my life. I have always been loyal to this company, and I will remain loyal to you. Thank you."

You are perplexed. Why did he never tell you about this? You are very happy for him, but you do find it weird. It also makes you doubt again. Did whatever you had been building up the last months not mean as much to Harry as it did to you?

Well, it doesn't really matter, you're gone after tonight anyway.

Once the shock of the news has calmed down a bit, the party resumes as normal. Most people visit Harry one by one to congratulate him on the position, but you steer clear from him. It is no use, after tonight you will probably never see him again anyway.

Time passes, and you think you're ready to go home. There was a file in the office you forgot to sign earlier today, so you head up to do that first. The office is entirely dark when you walk out of the elevator. It's kind of eerie, so you are quick to turn on the lights.

It takes you a few minutes to find the file, since the receptionist placed it on someone else's desk. You find it on your colleague's desk, and walk over to the receptionist desk to sign it. Laying it on the keyboard of her computer, you pray that she won't displace it again, and make your way back to the elevators.

A loud shriek escapes you when Harry suddenly walks around the corner. He covers his ears at the high pitched sound, shocked by how much he scared you. With your hand on your chest you try and steady your breathing.

"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry, didn't mean to." He says, a bit of worry in his tone. You look up at him.

"What are you even doing up here?"

"I was looking for you." He shrugs.

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrow, that same old tension in your stomach settling like it does every time Harry looks at you for longer than two seconds.

"You've been avoiding me." He answers casually, and you feel your heart drop. You didn't think he'd catch onto it.

"Congratulations by the way, for being the CEO. That was definitely a surprise." There is a bitterness in your tone. It is Harry's turn to frown. He hears the condescension, but his mind can't seem to come to a conclusion. Why are you angry? It's so hard to tell.

This is why he doesn't do people.

"You're mad that I am CEO?" He guesses, and your mouth falls open, much like it did when Harry's new position got announced.

"What?! Of course not! I'm very happy for you." You sputter out. The last thing you'd want him to think is that you don't want him to be happy or satisfied or successful.

"But you're still avoiding me." He repeats slowly. "You know, I didn't tell you about it because no one was supposed to know. I had to sign for it and everything. It's nothing personal."

The painful grip that his potential distrust in you had on your heart releases at the sound of his words. You could have known that it was due to something like that, you work in HR after all. That fact alone makes you realize how invested you unknowingly had become in Harry.

"I...I figured." You give him a weak smile. Harry's eyes search for yours, holding onto your gaze once he has found it. You stay like that, staring at each other for a while until you break the silence.

"I'm heading home. I don't think I'll see you again, so good luck. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."

With much difficulty, you manage to look away from Harry and walk past him. At least, you try to, because halfway through, Harry's hand grabs your arm. You stop in your tracks, looking back at the man who stopped you. The man who has been sending you mixed signals for the past few months.

"D– do you want to join me in my office?"

You refrain from the shiver that threatens to run down your entire body, and nod. Harry's hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he intertwines his fingers with yours before he leads you to the glass doors that belong to him. On your way there, he flicks off the lights, leaving the two of you in the dark.

The city lights light up the otherwise pitch dark office that belongs to Harry, for now. He will be moved to the CEO's office when he starts his new position.

You don't say anything as Harry closes the door, or as he walks to the closet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. You wait in anticipation of what he's going to do.

But then he sits down. He just sits down on his chair.

You stand there, staring at him, utterly confused about this man and his intentions with you, while he obliviously pours the whiskey into the glasses. In that moment, there is a switch inside of you, one that says: fuck it. This is your last day, you need a way to release this pent up tension, and you probably won't see him ever again after this. What have you got to lose? Nothing.

You walk over to the desk and sit down on it, extremely close to Harry. The split of your dress shows your bare, freshly shaved leg, and he seems to notice. His eyes pull to your legs like magnets, and he has to force himself to look you in the eyes as he hands you the glass of whiskey.

You try your best not to smirk at the effectiveness of your plan, focusing on your next move instead. Straight for the kill.

"So, why am I here, Harry?" You ask nonchalantly, taking a sip of your whiskey. It tastes quite strong, and it takes you a lot of effort not to have an expressive reaction to it.

"What?" He asks, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Why'd you take me here?" You ask again, setting down your glass at the table before moving to stand in front of him. "To admire the view?"

Harry looks out the window, but his head shoots back to you when he notices you're sinking onto your knees in front of him. He thinks he may have forgotten to breathe as he observes the lustful look in your eyes. His eyes travel down to your tits, even more visible from this angle.

"Because I've admired it every day for the past three months." You continue. Harry swallows, frozen by the overload of his brain and the sensitivity of the growing constraint in these pants. "Why don't you take your pants off for me? Just enough to give me your cock. I like you in this suit."

Harry doesn't let another second fly by before he is unbuckling his pants, sliding it down just enough for you to have access to his cock and his balls. Your mouth waters at the size and girth of it, your cunt getting wetter with every passing moment.

You shimmy forward, leaning over his cock and grabbing it with your hand. Harry sighs at the minimal contact, making you feel even more powerful. Looking up at him through your lashes, you ask him one more question.

"You'll hold my hair, won't you?"

With that, you take Harry in your mouth as far as you can, before pulling away from him. A gasp leaves his mouth, and his eyes fall shut as you pump him with your hand while your mouth kisses and sucks on the head of his cock. You begin licking and kissing down his cock, while your hand softly feels up his balls.

Harry feels like he is in heaven already, and he forgets everything around him. It is only when you completely remove yourself from him that he opens his eyes again, and he sees. Catching on quickly, he leans forward and gathers your hair, twisting it around his palm.

Satisfied with Harry's obedience, your mouth attaches itself to his cock again. You take him slowly, teasingly, and move your head up and down. With every movement, you take him an inch deeper.

"Oh, f–fuck!" He groans out when you gag on him because you took yourself too far too fast. You steady your breathing, which is a bit more complicated as you can only breathe out your nose. You resume sucking him off for a bit longer, bobbing your head down a bit faster. The small sounds that leaves Harry's lips, along with his scrunched up face, gives you enough indication that he is approaching his climax.

So you remove your mouth from his cock.

He lets out a whine at the loss of contact. If your panties weren't wet before, they certainly are now. You smile at the state of him; desperate and needy for you. The fact that you've managed to make him fall apart like this makes you incredibly horny.

"I want to take all of you in my mouth, daddy." You tell him, looking up at him with your big eyes. "You'll have to help me."

You went out on a bit of a limb when you decided to call him daddy, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, Harry's eyes light up and his jaw slacks at the mention of the pet name.

"Shit– anything, sweetheart. Whatever you need." He croaks out.

"I need you to fuck my mouth." You respond sternly, not wasting any time and taking him between your lips again. You push yourself down his cock as far as you can, breathing deeply before moving your hand to Harry's hand, which is holding onto your hair, and pushing your head forward to indicate that he needs to push his cock down your throat.

Again, it doesn't take him long to listen, because Harry's hips thrust forward, his dick gliding into your throat. You moan at the force with which he pushed, and keep your mouth wide open as you let Harry navigate your head.

Once he fully understands that you are allowing him to let him use your mouth, the true fun begins. With the firm grip he has on your head, he pushes you up and down at an ungodly speed. Your jaw is already tiring from its locked position, but you power through it because the sounds that leave Harry's mouth make up for it.

"Fuck baby, such a good mouth. Never had anything like this... Jesus!" He pants out as he begins to thrust up into your mouth, and you feel like you might pass out. Suddenly, he pulls you away from his dick.

You frown, and realize as he is grabbing for a tissue that he is avoiding messing up your face. You don't stand for it, though, and wrap your lips around his cock again just in time for him to come inside your mouth. You take him deeper and feel the way his sperm shoots in the back of your throat.

"Fuck! Shit, shit..." The not so wide arrange of curse words are the only thing Harry is capable of saying as he dumps his load inside your mouth. The fact that you were so adamant about having his sperm in your mouth made his orgasm even more intense.

Your mouth lets go of his cock with an exaggerated plop, and you swallow every last bit of him, grinning at his fucked out face.

"That was... amazing." He sighs, his gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. You hum in agreement, and get up from the floor as he pulls up his pants. You are about to walk away, when Harry grabs your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." You answer with a smile, but Harry's grip on you only tightens. He shakes his head, his lips pouting.

"No, you need to stay. Let me make you feel good too." He protests. You squint your eyes at him.

"I don't need to do anything."

Harry's eyes widen. "You're right. But just let me make you feel good before you go, please? It's the least I can do."

Your mouth slowly forms into a grin, glad to have him where you want. Well, almost.

"Beg me."

Harry scoffs. "Are you serious? I don't really do begging."

You shrug, smiling at him. "That's fine. My vibrator can get me off too."

You take a few steps towards the door, while Harry contemplates his decisions. However, those were all clouded by the sole moment to please you the second you mentioned your vibrator. The image of you getting off like that is too much to bear. He needs to do it for you.

"Stop." He says. You turn around, and walk back to him as he gets out of his chair and gets on his knees. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you closer, his nose digging into your dress. His hands run up and down your legs, and it is making you weak in your knees.

"Please, let me eat you out baby. I'll do anything to make you feel good. I need to taste you so bad, please let me pleasure you."

You swallow, eyelids ready heavy, as you sigh out. "Alright."

Harry grins at your admittance of defeat, and stands up. He leads you to sit on his desk, your dress hiked up. He removes the stuff behind you, so that you can lean back entirely in case you want to, and waltzes over to his chair.

Spreading your legs, he rolls himself closer to you, and assesses your soaking wet panties. Chuckling, he leans to the side and grabs a pair of scissors, before he cuts the skimpy material from your body. You'd say something of it, but the sight of him admiring your pussy like this is too fascinating to interrupt. So, you keep quiet.

When Harry's thumb suddenly presses on your clit and begins to rub it, you can't help but gasp. His touch feels too good, and that blowjob got you really worked up.

"You have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this." Harry says, marveling at how reactive you are being.

"Me too."

His eyebrows rise up. "Yeah? Tell me more, baby."

You bite your lip, too obsessed with the pet name he's given you. It sounds so sexy coming from his mouth. He awaits your response with bright eyes, lazily rubbing your clit.

"Your arms... I'd think about them so much. And your hands, I'd imagine you choking me with them. They're so big..." You begin, and you know that you could go on for hours if you had to tell him about everything you've thought about doing with him, or doing to him.

Harry doesn't say anything, instead responds with two fingers entering your pussy. You moan at the feeling of his large fingers pumping in and out of you. It feels way fuller than your hand already. His two fingers is the equivalent of your three fingers.

"We can definitely make those fantasies come true..." Harry says softly. "But first, let's make you come, hmm?"

You nod, your head falling back and allowing yourself to fully indulge in the pleasure Harry's giving you right now. You let yourself lay on his desk, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

"Fuck, that feels good– oh fuck!" You shriek out when Harry tongue begins attacking your tongue after he adds a third finger. He speeds up the movements of his hand to match those of his tongue, and holds onto that tempo until your mind can't conjure up any more words to speak to him.

With the control entirely out of your hands, you let Harry guide you to your orgasm, which washes over your body like a tidal wave. You unconsciously push Harry's head further into your pussy with your legs. With an arched back, you moan at the sensitivity of your clit.

Harry lets you take a minute to catch your breath before he pulls on your arms to have you sit up straight. He is smiling sweetly at you, and your heart warms at it.

"You okay?" He asks, kissing your hands. You nod, trying to ignore the flutters in your heart at the way he is being so gentle.

"Thank you for letting me make you feel good, baby." He says, getting up and leaning into your face. His nose brushes against your cheek as he plants his lips on yours. Your arms wrap around Harry's neck as you kiss him deeper, too caught up in how good he feels and how much you want him.

You're never this greedy. You've never felt like you needed a man's cock inside of you. Like it was the only feasible option. You feel it driving you crazy, and you're sure it is the only reason you say— no, ask:

"Please, fuck me."

The grin that forms on Harry's lips makes you feel like you should regret what you said. A grin like that usually belongs on your face in situations like these. But you need him so bad, you don't really care that you are the desperate one this time.

"Oh, you're begging now too, huh?" He says cockily. You glare at him, pissed that he's acknowledging your neediness and mocking you for it too.

"It's alright baby, I'll give it to you. 'M cock's already hard again from watching you come like that. So fucking sexy..." He says. He pulls his pants down and lifts you off the table, turning you around to the glass windows and pushing your hands against them. "Bend over a bit and speak your legs for me, baby."

You do as he says, biting your lip at Harry's hand that pushes away your dress and roams over your ass. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes himself into you, sighing in pure relief. You shut your eyes tightly at the size of him filling you up.

"Fuck, you feel good baby." He says, slowly beginning to move in and out a bit. You let out a soft 'yes', causing Harry's jaw to clench. He spanks your ass, watching as it bounces from the impact, and his cock twitching at your yelp.

"Perfect fucking ass... perfect fucking girl, aren't you?" He groans, now lazily thrusting into you. He wants to give you time to adjust, but he learns your wishes when you begin to push yourself back into him.

"Ah, I see. Greedy girl wants to speed things up, hmm? Your wish is my command." He mocks, but does speed up his pace. His hands hold your waist as he begins to pound himself into you, your ass shaking at the impact. He spanks your ass again for good measure, obsessed with the way it moves.

You nearly lose yourself in how good it feels, but you know that he can get deeper than this.

"I want to ride you... want to feel you in my tummy." You spit out, hoping he understands what you're saying in your croaky voice.

Harry listens, pulling himself out of you immediately and taking a seat in the chair. You turn around and walk over to him, throwing your legs on both sides of his lap, before grabbing his cock and sinking yourself down on it.

It goes smoother this time, but Harry's really deep now, just like you wanted. The sensation is everything to you, and it isn’t hard to tell how good it feels for him too. Glad to have a bit of the control back, you start to bounce on his cock.

Harry’s eyes travel over your body, fascinated by the way you are moving above him. His hands travel to the straps of your dress and push them down until he can get your tits out of the top part of your dress. He begins to massage them as you keep impaling yourself on his dick over and over again.

"Fuck, daddy, you feel so good... so good for me. Listening to me. Knew this was the best way to fuck you... you love it." You slur happily. Harry nods profusely at your words, jaw clenched and moaning out in pleasure.

"Yes, needed it so bad baby. You're fucking daddy so good..."

You smile at how caught up Harry looks in his pleasure, like he doesn't know what to do with it. You, however, do know what to with it. You grab one of his hands and wrap it around your throat, before you do the same to him. With his hand on your neck and yours on his, you begin to fuck him as fast as you can.

"Ah, fffuck... shit! Holy shit!" He yells out, and automatically thrusts himself up into you, reaching an even further level of deepness you had never thought possible. That along with your hands on each other’s necks, is enough to know that your climaxes are near.

"Come inside me daddy." You pant out, and he does. It is as if your permission set him off. You smile in delight at the feel and knowledge of his cum being so deep inside of you.

You fuck Harry through his orgasm, and even after. He squirms in his seat. "Wait— too sensitive."

"I don't care, I haven't come yet. Don't you want to make me feel good? Have me coming around your thick cock?" You say sensually, and Harry nods. "Words."

"Yes– fuck! I want you to come, please come around my cock. Please, please..." He begins to beg, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Your toes curl at his whiny voice, and soon your juices are gushing all over his cock. Your pussy contracting around him seems to set Harry off even more, as you feel even more sperm spraying out of his dick and into your walls.

You ride out your high until you can't move anymore. You sit there, forehead pressed against Harry's as you both come down from what just happened.

After a minute or two, you decide to pull out. Slowly but surely, you manage to get Harry's dick out of you without hissing too much at the sensitivity of every single body part down there.

You lean against the desk, too wobbly to stand on your own, and you let Harry wipe you clean with the tissues on his desk. After cleaning himself up, he stands up and positions himself in front of you.

"Hey." He says. Your hand cups his jaw and your thumb wipes away the tear that is far down his face now.

"Hi." You tilt your head. The both of you burst out laughing, still surprised by what went down just now.

"That was really good." He says once the laughter has died down. You nod in agreement.

"Good enough for a repeat?"

Harry pretends to think it over, before he responds: "under one condition."

"And what would that be?" You quirk up an eyebrow, intrigued by his vagueness. He smiles at you so wide that you wonder if his mouth might be hurting.

"You let me take you out on a date first."

You roll your eyes, pretending not to be amused as he chuckles at your reaction. But the second you see the look on his face and the sincerity behind it, you realize that he is being quite serious about this request. You bite your lip, wanting to kiss him right then and there.

"I would love that."

[cypherscript]

The Ole Switcheroo.

The Justice League and the Justice League Dark are in need of some questions answered about the alarming numbers of tears in reality coming from this small nowhere town in Illinois and don’t seem to be stopping any time soon. So using every bit of summoning and containment magic the JLD have and the most prominent source of energy they could find in the city they decide to summon the owner of the energy. *** “And you’re sure this containment spell will hold whatever comes through,” Superman asks as he observes Zatanna and Constantine marking out the circle.

“Should, most beings from that dimension have very specific powersets but all of them include basic flight, invisibility and intangibility. Hence why the civilians of the city refer to them as ghosts.” Zatanna says as she finished her marking with a flourish. 

Batman grunts in response as he’s looking over data, J'onn focuses on Zatanna after she lists the powers, “I assume that is why I am here? Those powers are remarkably similar to Martian abilities.”

“Yes, should the being somehow escape we will need you to retrieve them if they become intangible.”

“Understood.”

“Ready John?”

“Let’s get this shiteshow started, luv.” John Constantine picks up a book and begins speaking in a voice of white noise and screams, the circle lights up an eerie green and wisping into the air before a flashing light reveals a white haired teen in a a jumpsuit floating in the air.

“What? How did I- Where am I?”

Batman steps forward, “That’s not important right, we just want to ask you a couple of questions about Amity Park.”

“Then I can leave?”

Several of the League Members share some looks before Batman answers, “If you aren’t a threat to this dimension.”

“Awesome, I can leave then.”

“That remains to be seen.” Zatanna cuts in, “First lets start with your name, can we have your name?”

“No, sorry but you can call me Phantom.” the teen chuckles at a joke he only knows.

“You can call me Zatanna then, the others are Superman, Batman, Constantine, and Martian Manhunter.”

Phantom perks up at the last name, “Wait, like a real Martian? I thought they died out a long time ago.”

“You know of us,” J’onn asks, perplexed.

“Yeah, there’s a few of you guys floating around the Zone,” Phantom shrugs before resuming looking at the circle, “Is this like a question circle? I couldn’t stop myself from saying that.”

“It shouldn’t be, it is merely a summoning and containment spell. Constantine?”

“Mighta slip some truth spellwork into it, had to be sure it was telling the truth. Pan dimensional beings aren’t really know for being trustworthy, Zatanna.”

“Constantine,” Zatanna shouts at the man in outrage.

“First of all,” Phantom interrupts, “Not an it, I’m a he and second I don’t exactly have a problem with the spell. Just be aware that it’s reduced your any number of questions down to three and then I get a turn asking the questions. Deal?”

“Deal,” Batman says before the two magic users can speak. “I’ve already thought of the most prominent question we needed answers for.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“We have been noticing an alarming number of dimensional tears in a small town on our planet and your energy reading is almost always in that town. Why?”

Phantom tilts his head stroking an imaginary beard, “Hmm, I’ll allow that as a single question I suppose. The dimensional tearing is a combination of a couple of reasons; the city is in a thin spot between your world and the Ghost Zone or the Infinite Realms as some of the older ghosts call it. The other reason is because there are a couple of human scientists who have punched a permanent hole into the Zone, usually natural portals appear and disappear at random and usually only for a few seconds at most. Honestly I surprised you’re worried about the portals now when the Bermuda Triangle has existed forever.”

“What does the- No, nevermind.” Phantom smirks at the Batman’s almost slip of a question. “You still haven’t answered my question; why is your energy signature always in that town?”

“Because it’s m̷̢̨̛̰͍̮̝̪̞͉̩̬͕̣̮̱̻̎͋̉͘ͅį̵͍̫̭̱̝̮̯̞̝̺̤̺̦̝͖̜̅̉̂̊́̑̿̆̈́̕͝n̴̫͎̼͇̭̾ẽ̵̱̭̗̥̱͕̒̋͛͂͆̑͝͠ͅ, I protect it by sending the other ghosts back to the Zone.”

“Who are the most dangerous beings from that dimension and are they a threat to this world?”

“That depends on who you- Me and Clocky. Wait really? Huh, I mean I guess I could see it; Space and Time. I guess this circle means like, the Truth and not what I believe to be true. That’s good to know. Anyways that’s your second question, best make the last one count.”

Batman thinks for a moment, looking over Phantom with a new eye at the revelation that he was the most dangerous, him and this Clocky being at any rate, “If there is an Incursion of beings from this Ghost Zone, how do we protect the earth.”

“You don’t. I do. That’s three questions,” Phantom snaps his fingers and the world blurs as it spins, coming back into focus as Phantom is now outside of the circle and the League is in it. Phantom takes on a sharp tooth grin as he pulls a notebook from inside his body, “Now my first question is for Martian Manhunter; what was Mars like when the Martians were alive?”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness; allusions to major medical procedure; accidental violence (m on f); allusions to child abuse

A/N: Finally. I make no excuses and a lot of apologies. Daryl is going through it right now but it's not just my normal whump. Reader gets to find herself again. I say that as vaguely as possible but you'll see at the end and in coming chapters.

A day and a half. A full fucking thirty six hours. The group still hadn’t returned. While it was logical to be concerned for their safety, you just couldn’t seem to look any further than the man on the bed no more than a foot in front of you. His fever raged and his breathing deteriorated, shallow rattles and painful fits of coughing. Still, those were less distressing than the moments he would wake, not remembering where or when he was. 

During one such episode, you had been a peer from school. An innocent girl who had followed him home one day to catch crawdads in the creek behind his house. His one friend that he had to hide in the crawlspace until he could get his father to beat on him instead of looking for you. He didn’t have any friends. You were special, he said. The bruises were worth it. 

Of all the ways to get Daryl to talk about what had happened to him, this wasn’t what you had expected. 

To make matters worse, he had become violent, waking in a rage that no one could understand. He was swinging punches and trying to leave the bed, Lori holding you away from him while Hershel of all people tried to subdue him alone. It was the grating of his own voice against his throat that had brought on the coughing, the force of which had eventually tired him out. 

You had appreciated the concern but had asked Lori not to come between you and Daryl again. Though she had retreated in a huff, Carol later assured you that she was only concerned for the safety of you and the baby. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t judging Daryl for something over which he had no control. 

Things were quiet at the moment. You hummed and carded your fingers through the archer’s hair. He had been sleeping without interruption for a little over an hour, but his breaths were seeming even more labored. 

You were beyond exhausted. Two or three hours of sleep, barely eating between bouts of nausea, you were nearly to the point of being confined to that sickbed right alongside Daryl. 

“How’re the patients?” 

You didn’t lift your head, only your eyes. “Baby and I are fine. Daryl sounds worse than when you were here earlier.”

“Let’s take a look at you two and then I’ll examine Daryl.” 

There was no point in arguing. You didn’t have the energy. Sitting up straight in the chair, your back protested from the time spent bowed over the edge of the mattress, but you continued the journey to relax against the backrest. Your hand never released Daryl’s. 

Hershel motioned toward your sweater in a silent request for permission and received a mumbled knock yourself out in reply. Baby Dixon was still for the moment after hours of kicking and rolling and seemingly trying to fit a foot between your ribs. The veterinarian smiled gently upon removing the stethoscope and rolling down your sweater. You were grateful for the small gesture, likely would have left it up if he hadn’t taken the initiative. 

“Heartbeat’s strong. Seems to be doing just fine according to my limited knowledge. You really should get some rest yourself. Eat something, drink more.” His stethoscope was already nearing Daryl’s chest when you noticed it; the twitch of a hand before fingers curled into a fist. 

“Daryl, no!” You weren’t meaning to hurt the old man, inwardly wincing when you heard the thud of his body hit the floor. You were just quick enough to shove him out of the way, Daryl’s fist barely grazing your cheek instead. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s Y/N. You’re sick.” You kept your voice soft, right next to his ear, holding him firmly in a way he couldn’t escape in his weakened state. 

“Hershel! Y/N!” Carol and Lori burst into the room, Beth just behind them. You heard the girl begin to cry and tend to her father but the other two were quiet. 

“Where—dunno—can’t think—”

“I know, Daryl. It’s the fever.” He was coughing into your shoulder, his skin hot and dry where it touched yours. “You’re safe. I’m here. Thumper’s here.” The archer made a sound in his throat and by some miracle, you knew what it meant. Otherwise keeping your hold on him, you fumbled for his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of your belly. “Feel that? You woke them up too.” Your lip was wobbling, your voice threatening to do the same. “They just want their daddy to rest now so they can too. How ‘bout it, hmm?”

You pulled back slowly, steeling yourself for whatever it was you would see in his eyes. You almost whimpered when there was nothing short of exhausted recognition. 

“D’I hurt—” 

Your cheek burned and felt wet, but you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t tell him while he was like that. “I tripped. Face-planted. You definitely would have laughed.” He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious, but thank heavens for Thumper and a well placed punt straight to Daryl’s palm. His reaction was sluggish, head bowing to watch his hand rub circles over that spot. 

“Hey, kid. Go—easy on—your mama.”

“How about you go easy on their mama too and drink some water for me?” With your hand behind his head, you slowly guided him to his mountain of pillows. “Just a bit, okay?” He gave no answer. His palm continued to caress your bump. You wondered if he would still be so affectionate once he realized you weren’t alone in the room. 

With one hand raising his head slightly, the other tipped the cup to lips. He didn’t drink as much as you’d hoped but it was something. His eyes were closed but his fingers remained steady, curling and straightening over where you could feel the ripples of movement. It was as if they could sense one another. Daryl was calm, only the cough moving him at all. The baby’s movements were gentle waves below his hand. 

You didn’t dare move, allowing him the comfort he likely didn’t even know he was seeking. If you were being honest, you were relaxing a little as well. With a sigh, both tired and contented, you slouched but stayed next to him. 

“Is he okay?” You asked, finally rolling your head toward the others. Beth and Carol were getting Hershel to his feet, Lori pacing behind them with an expression you just didn’t like. 

“I’m perfectly fine.” The man answered for himself, patting Beth’s hand so that she would release him. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, risking placing your hand over Daryl’s. When his fingers went still, you gently guided his palm back and forth over your belly. 

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I should have been more—”

“He’s going to seriously hurt one of us.” Lori interjected, continuing her pacing. You shot her a warning look, eyes narrowing when she shook her head. “I understand this is out of his control, but this is Daryl and out of all of us, he’s hardwired for violence.”

“Lori, you should go.” You spoke quietly, not willing to disrupt any rest the archer might be getting. You could only pray that he hadn’t heard her careless comment. 

“We should just take shifts to come check in on him. You could rest and eat, we’d probably hear him cou—”

“Are you seriously suggesting I leave him alone up here?” Where the anger was coming from, you had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the concern for Daryl that was constantly eating at you. It hardly mattered, you’d made it clear that she was crossing a line. Your tone was dripping with venom. “Carol.” You beckoned, eyes remaining on Rick’s wife. “Please, take Lori downstairs before I say or do something I would definitely regret.”

“Come on, Lori.” You heard Carol say quietly, a heated glare continuing between you and the other woman as she was led from the room. Once the door closed, your anger dissolved as quickly as it had materialized. “Beth—Hershel, you know—”

“We know he’d never hurt any of us on purpose.” The girl said in that sweet southern tone of hers. “You neither.”

“Having two expectant mothers in one room with enough charged energy was just asking for an explosion of some sort. Now don’t you stress yourself over it any further.” As he neared, Hershel squeezed your shoulder. “Think you might be able to keep him from becoming agitated long enough for me to take a listen?” He lifted the stethoscope. 

You nodded with a sniffle, wiping away a tear. “Yeah. If you can go around, I have an idea.” The old man rounded the bed while you crawled up beside Daryl, gently pulling him onto his side and against your chest. Once situated, you pulled his hand back onto your belly, and though he didn’t move it, you felt him relax a little further into you. “Daryl.” You whispered into his hair. “Hershel’s gonna listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is gonna be cold but your skin is hot from the fever. I’m right here. And it’s just Hershel.” 

You carded your fingers through his hair while Beth leaned over you to clean the cut on your cheek, hands just as gentle as her father’s. There wasn’t so much as a flinch when the cold instrument pressed against the archer’s back. You paid attention to the his reactions—or lack thereof—but you also watched Hershel and the way his expression fell. It was then you knew he would tell you nothing good.

“His right lung is full of fluid. It’s hindering his ability to breathe normally. The cough is still productive?” You nodded slowly. “May I see?” Well, that was disgusting but Beth carefully pinched one edge of a cloth and carried it to Hershel. You didn’t care to have that ick on your fingers.

Your attention turned back to Daryl, his weight heavy on your side, chest rattling, cheeks flushed, and lips pale. When would the group be back? Were they okay? Should you plan to leave?

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look up from stroking the archer’s cheek until your name was said again. The expression you were met with was grim. You had your concerns about the pink frothy liquid that accompanied the mucus. Fuck. You should have told Hershel immediately. “What is it?” 

“If I don’t do something about the fluid in his lung, it is possible he may—for lack of a better term—drown.” 

“When they get back—” He cut you off with a shake of his head.

“This can’t wait that long. We don’t know if—we’re not sure when they’ll return. I need to see if I have anything that I can use. What we were able to grab from the farm was extremely limited and even that has been cut in half with being on the road.” Hershel was mentally running through inventory as he began to leave the room with his daughter in tow, turning but not meeting your eyes. “I’ll need him awake for this.”

Start waking him up now. That’s what he meant. You were horrified. You had no idea how to thoroughly explain to Daryl what was going to happen, because you didn’t know. Why did he need to be awake? ‘Oh, you’re going to drown slowly if we don’t do this now.’ How badly would it hurt? 

“There’s a—time an’ place—to be pullin’ on—a man’s hair an’ this—ain’t it.”

You sputtered out apologies and let go immediately. “I didn’t even realize—I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t even looking at you, half lidded eyes blinking slowly and staring toward the wall. Your tight grip returned but this time on his bicep, pulling him more snugly into your side but easing when he buried his face against your sweater to cough. Gross, but what could you do?  “Daryl. Do you think you could try to—”

“Heard the—the old man. M’awake.” 

The two of you laid in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but with the looming fear of what was to come and if could even possibly help him. Your fingers ran a trail up and down his arm while his hand splayed out over your belly, eventually sliding around to your side to shift you toward him. Face to face, you could now clearly see the exhaustion, the way the illness was slowly tearing him down, and the resignation in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from your tongue unbidden, and though his expression didn’t change, he brought a fiercely trembling hand to your cheek, hot against your skin.

“Me too.” The admission shocked you to your core. Daryl always strived to be strong for everyone. Hell, it was what led him to his current position in the first place, trudging on while ill just to make sure you and the group—mostly you—were fed. “Didn’t fall.” His thumb barely brushed the bruised cut on your cheek. “M’so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to speak but quickly turned his face into the pillow to cough harshly, the force rocking his body hard enough to jar your own. You twisted to reach for a cloth, shushing him when his hold grew tighter, openly displaying his discontent at the thought of you moving away.

With gentle swipes, you wiped his face and then the pillow, folding the fabric before laying it above your heads for easy access. 

“I don’t wanna do this without you. Thumper needs their daddy. And,” you swallowed, face crumbling and tears stinging your waterline, “I need their daddy too.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Why the hell was he comforting you when he was the one being ravaged by an illness that would have been easily remedied in the old world? You really were weak, dependent. Where was the headstrong woman that had shown no fear on her own during the first days of the turn? “Stop—stop lookin’ at me—like m’already dead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away abruptly to cover a fit of barking coughs that left him groaning, face lined with pain while he gasped and heaved to catch his breath.

You had no chance to offer him any sort of comfort before there came a knock and Hershel entered, Carol at his heels. “We have what we need. Well, what can be used in place of what we need.” He held some sort of thin tubing, a syringe, and a plastic mixing bowl, while Carol carried a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, some gauze, tape, and a knife. Even with your wide eyes displaying a naked fear, Daryl never turned to look. “Is he awake?”

“Get it—get on with it.” He grumbled, weak but to the point.

Hershel merely shook his head with that fond smile he had developed toward your group since the farm. “Carol, could you sanitize the knife?” Seeing her pour a portion of the liquid over the blade made your stomach turn, or maybe it was your own illness rearing its ugly head to take advantage of your weakened state. Regardless, you looked away, finding Daryl’s eyes on your own. “First, I’ll need to find the right spot. You’ll have to be completely still for this, son.”

“Yeah, okay. Got—got it.” The archer wheezed. In your peripheral, you could see the veterinarian’s arm moving, pressing and counting the ribs in search of the correct site. Daryl was rigid, his eyes squinted but remaining open and focused on you with the occasional flitting down to where your swollen belly pressed against him. His hand fisted into the fabric of your sweater on your hip.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

“Just do—just do it for christ sake.” 

The old man was still behind him for a moment, long enough to draw your gaze to his. He nodded, a silent request for you to do what you could to keep Daryl still and compliant. Drawing your eyes back to the dull blue that was watching you with such intensity that you felt crushed under the weight, well, that must have been enough for Hershel to continue.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, the slightest spasm of pain indicating that the knife had pierced his skin. Hershel and Carol were moving behind Daryl, communicating through whispers and gestures while you felt Daryl’s arm begin to shake, your sweater pulling tight against your body.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Daryl.” 

His eyes suddenly clamped shut, your sweater rising away from your hip when he twisted his fist. The seconds felt like minutes that felt like hours of watching him tremble with fever, weakness, and restraint. Finally, there came the blessed sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl. 

“Catheter is in place as best I can tell. We’re getting fluid. Don’t hold your breath, son. Nice and slow.”

You could tell he was trying, each breath a wheeze laced with pain. Slowly, you moved your hand from his arm to his face, just brushing your fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “We need to start thinking of names, you know. Thumper is cute but the baby isn’t a rabbit even though they feel like one sometimes.” Daryl’s eyes opened, tears pricking at the pinched corners. You knew he couldn’t answer you and so did he, probably couldn’t even if he tried. “I try to picture what they may look like. I hope they look like you, big blue eyes and maybe even a permanent scowl so that when they smile, it’ll be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.” You thumbed away a tear that escaped down across the bridge of his nose toward the other eye.

When his throat spasmed, you thought maybe he was going to be sick but then he began to cough, loud and agonizing and dry. Your wide eyes found Hershel’s, the calm in the old man’s gaze fizzling out your terror.

“It’s okay. Just keep him still. The coughing forces out more fluid. It’s almost over.”

As painful as it was for Daryl, it was agonizing for you to watch him suffer with no way to help him. “It’s almost done. You’re doing great. Stay still and stay awake. Can you look at me?” He answered with the smallest of nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Carol moved closer to Hershel. It was torture to not know what they were doing out of your sight but at the same time, an immense relief. The zip of tape being pulled and torn was surely a sign of the procedure coming to an end.

But it was when Daryl drew in the deepest breath you had heard in two days that you felt yourself relax, truly and utterly just drain of tension, placing your forehead against his. “It’s over. Just rest now.” You focused on his even breaths, just the slightest wheeze, the barely audible rattle. He was limp against you, his hand still tangled in your sweater but no longer holding on. The archer was exhausted and sleep had claimed him almost instantly.

“Hershel?” You need not ask anything. He knew.

“It won’t last long, but it buys us some time. The incision was deep but small. I will examine him in a little while, make sure it stays clean. In the meantime, listen for any struggles with breathing. Let him rest.”

You nodded, your forehead brushing against Daryl’s. The used supplies had been gathered and the old man had already made his way downstairs. You caught Carol’s eye as she started to close the door.

“An hour.” You stated flatly.

“What?” The other woman stepped back into the room, her brow drawn.

“I’m giving them one hour. If they’re not back, I want the list and I’m going. There won’t be a discussion.” No room for argument. “You sit with him while I’m gone. You’re the only other person he really trusts.” She looked as if she might object, but when her shoulders relaxed, you knew you’d won. With a nod, she left the room.

Without Daryl’s desperate attempts to breathe, it was so quiet, a sound you welcomed and reveled in so deeply. Hershel had opened a doorway and you’d be damned if you’d let it close. Moving your arm below his to wrap around him, low on his back to avoid the incision, you used the leverage to pull yourself as close to him as you could with baby Dixon barring the way. The archer didn’t stir. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt the fever still burning hot, only fueling your determination to get what he needed if the group failed to return.

“I don’t care what you say or what you think. I don’t care why you think I shouldn’t.” You spoke softly, a near whisper. “I love you. And I am not losing you.”

Of course you had fallen asleep. Daryl was resting comfortably, albeit still feverish. You were cozy beside him. You felt safe while simultaneously feeling like you were guarding him. It had been more than an hour, that much was certain. Hershel hadn’t given a timeframe regarding how long the treatment would help Daryl and you were taking no chances. It was time to take things into your own hands.

As fate would have it, just as you began to disentangle yourself from Daryl, there were frantic footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. Daryl was too weak to move if walkers had wandered into the area. The door burst open without a knock, revealing a breathless blonde teenager wearing a brilliant smile.

“They’re back!”

You stared. It was all you could do, your voice had seemingly decided it was in just as much shock as you were. Besides, she had already disappeared, leaving the door wide open. A sob worked its way up your throat but you blocked it with your teeth, looking down at Daryl as he slept. 

He would be okay.

The glare you had fixed on Hershel settled the maybe you should wait outside argument rather quickly. You weren’t leaving Daryl to be manhandled should he wake up confused. 

A herd had blocked their direct path back. Of course one had. Because the world was cruel and unforgiving and the dead were always hungry and always looking for a life to take. 

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were bringing up supplies while Maggie assisted her father with Daryl’s care. An IV was started immediately, after carefully searching for the perfect vein due to his state of dehydration. They didn’t have the cannulas to waste. Fluids were started right along with a bag of something called Azithromycin—an antibiotic, Hershel had said. They had scored several bags of each, along with a few other things that could be used for injuries or illnesses. But when they brought up the oxygen tanks, you could have sobbed.

The nasal cannula placement was what finally woke Daryl, bloodshot eyes scanning the room before you saw the first signs of panic. “Ssh. It’s okay.” You slid your hand under his and squeezed his fingers softly. “They’re back. Just let Hershal do his thing, okay? And then I’ll chase them all out. I promise.”

You were so relieved to see his usual scowl shift into place, even if it was somewhat diminished. “Fine.” He rasped.

“Good. Now, since I have your attention—don’t touch that—” you swatted his hand away from the cannula, “take these pills.” Hershel wanted around the clock alternation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every four hours to get the fever under control. 

With an utterance of something containing the word bossy he let you place the pills on his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry while you sat there offering a glass of water. There was a look shared between you that would have been amusing had either you had the energy to laugh. “Thanks.” He whispered, his hand shaking when he accepted the water. He only took a couple of sips but you wouldn’t hound him just yet. The fluids were going and he likely would take a while to feel like doing much of anything.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now. Just need to keep an eye on those bags and hang new ones when they’re empty. Keep giving the fever reducers and, son, try to drink when you feel like. The sooner you’re taking in fluids on your own, the better.” 

“Leave that oxygen right where it is too.” Maggie added in a no-nonsense tone.

Daryl’s nod was sluggish, his chin almost staying on his chest during the gesture. The commotion, everyone moving, even while he did nothing more than take a couple of pills, had left him running on fumes. As promised, you were up, hand on your lower back to rub away the ache there as you used the other to shoo everyone out of the room.

Absolutely nothing was stopping you from crawling under those sheets with him and sleeping for four glorious hours. You had asked Carol to keep an eye on that. Thank heavens he was lying in the middle of the bed. The side with the IV needed to be avoided. 

Actually lying down with the intention to sleep, knowing Daryl was receiving the help he needed, you were just done for, already drifting off and somewhere between awake and asleep when you felt Daryl’s knuckles brush against yours. You took his hand without a second thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Carol asked, standing with you in the doorway of the bedroom. She was nervously glancing back and forth between you and Daryl. Aside from a few bouts of those harsh, barking coughs, he had slept the entire four hours and barely woke enough to choke down the pills before being pulled right back under. 

“I’m sure.” You secured your knife in the sheath on your thigh and wiggled Daryl’s gun holster a little to the side so it wasn’t gouging into the bottom of your belly. Your rifle was long gone and you weren’t about to alert anyone else to your plans by choosing a different weapon. So with both your bag and Daryl’s crossbow on your back, you were ready to head out.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Y/N. We’ve lived off less. There’s a little jerky left and we have some cans—”

“I’ll be fine, Carol. I’m only going to be a few hours and hunt small game. If I happen across a doe that I can lift, I’ll take that chance, otherwise, it’ll be squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, or opossums. Yum.”

“What do I tell him if he wakes up and asks for you?” She shifted nervously.

“The truth. We don’t lie. If he tries to come after me, knock him out or barricade the door.” 

She followed you to the top of the stairs but not down, staying close to Daryl as she had promised. “You really don’t need to go.”

“I do. I’m the only other hunter in this group. I won’t have him trying to go out sooner than he’s ready to make sure there’s enough.” You paused on the bottom step, staring at the door and then toward the kitchen where everyone else was gathered. Chewing your bottom lip, you climbed up two more so she could hear you without alerting the rest. “If I’m not back before his next dose, I’m headed west. That’s where they can look.” 

Carol looked so stricken and unsure so you offered her a smile, as she always did for you. Finally, she conceded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

[ofallthingsnasty]

pairing: sanji x f!reader tags: fat reader, mentions of feederism (but it's just a misunderstanding, nothing malicious is happening here!), food, crack treated seriously, fluff, minors dni word count: 1.4k note: months ago i had a thought about sanji getting hard watching you eat - because of his trauma, him being himself, you just being too cute while enjoying his creations- and i just needed to flesh it out a little further.

It’s entirely too obvious.

You’ve been with the Straw Hats for a few weeks now, and even though you’re still getting used to them - there is a certain habit unique to one member in particular that you have recognized by now. The cook likes to watch you eat.  A lot. 

It’s no secret that he likes to watch in general - not with the way he’s dancing around you and the other two women, all smiles and overly polite gestures - but you’ve noticed how peculiar he gets whenever meals are served. And really, at first you thought he was just scoping you out; knowingly smiling at him whenever he hesitantly placed a larger-than-average portion in front of you. Ah, you mused, his eyes are working, as is his brain. Giving the fat one more to eat is sensible, after all, seeing as you do need more energy to maintain your physique compared to a thinner woman. Really, you thought he was just trying to get to know you and your habits better - figuring out if you were a snacker or more of a main meal girl, seeing if you’d be too shy to eat your share in front of others or maybe even take offense when presented with more. 

But after some days (weeks at most), that little scouting mission should have been successful - only he keeps watching with the same intensity as he did when you first parted your lips to spoon one of his creations in between them. And watching. And watching. (Staring?)

A curiously tilted head while you take your knife and fork to a fine cut of meat, a lingering glance while you carefully scoop the top off a late-afternoon dessert on deck, a warm smile, a trill, even, when your face lights up at omelets early in the morning. 

Always waiting. Always holding his breath. Always, well, watching.

How peculiar. By now you’ve figured out that he not only observes until you comment on his cooking. It goes beyond kind words and blissful smiles, so it’s not that he wants praise - no, he keeps watching well after that obligatory “oh, this is so good, Sanji” and stays at it. It’s not to fish for compliments and it’s not to get a better glimpse at your eating habits. With both of those possibilities ruled out, it leaves very few other options - and not all of them pleasant, you realize. What if he is one of those guys who gets off on feeding you fatter and fatter; who sees you as an easy target as you are already big? It doesn’t suit him, not at all, but what do you know? You’ve never met one of them in your years of travel, just heard the same old warning every fat girl is given once she reaches a certain age. 

And it weighs on your mind.

Another three meals and half a dessert and you find it sours your stomach, actually. The thought is like poison once it has crossed you; and it taints every beautiful dish he plates for you, makes them all taste hollow. You can’t leave it up to speculation, you think, you have to know - have to know what you’re working with, at the very least. Maybe it’s the pie that he’s worked on so diligently that you feel is too nice to be tainted by an aftertaste; maybe it’s the fact that you can’t possibly spend another minute having a question burning through your stomach. It doesn’t matter, because at the second half of your dessert, you purse your lips and lean over the table shared between you two, that is so conveniently bare of any other of your crew. Now or never, you think, and dig into the crinkly dough again.

“Sanji, can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t even blink as he replies, with a tone that makes you feel like he has waited all of his life just to entertain one of your sudden whimsies. “Of course, my love. Anything.”

You whole-heartedly believe that.

“Hm”, you hum, then take another mouthful of pie. To bide time. To test a hypothesis.

As always, his eyes dip down with your dessert spoon, downright glittering as he observes. You almost pity him, knowing full-well that you’ll be taking away a good chunk of carefree fun he has had with this little quirk during all this time.

 You smile innocently as you swallow and let the piece of cutlery pop out of your mouth, ready for your attack.

“You watch me.”  It’s not the question you asked him for, it’s a statement. Said while you stare at your reflection behind fine, silver scratches in the metal. “You like to watch me eat, don’t you?”.

When you look up, he’s gone from a healthy, rosy complexion to beet-red. Like the kid getting caught with one hand already in the cookie jar, he just stares back at you, eyes about as wide as the plate your pie had been served on. He stutters. Then reaches to loosen his tie. And stutters some more. 

“I-”, he says, the first coherent word he has been able to push out, while you push in another bit of caramelized apple smothered in cream.

“It’s not like that-”

Oh, so he knows what you’re hinting at. You briefly wonder if he has had this conversation before. 

“Like what?”, you smile, feeling like you should play it a little cruel all of a sudden. “Enlighten me, Sanji.”

It’s what he deserves, you think. To have to sweat a little, to have to find his way out of this conversation in a way that leaves his reputation intact. 

“I’m not a freak- Really-”, he stutters, all usual grandeur gone. “I’m not- I’m not into watching you eat, if it’s what you’re implying.”

You can’t help but quirk a brow at that. Definitely has had this conversation before. When you don’t placate him - just take another bite of apple pie while he loosens his tie further to alleviate some of the embarrassment - it almost squeaks out of him.

“I swear, I can explain myself, darling!”

It’s said with so much desperation and pain it makes your eyes snap up to a beyond flustered Sanji who might just be this close to tears. Earnest. A little pathetic. Cute. And still, you don’t have it in you to release him just yet. Instead, you lean over and curl one finger underneath your chin with an aloof ‘Oh?’.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. His shoulders sag with actual relief, he sighs - and then he tells you all about it. About the All Blue. The Orbit. Red-Leg Zeff. The shipwreck. The hunger. The way it shaped him into what he has become today - it seems like there is more but you don’t dwell on it, don’t try to get further. You simply listen and nod and hang on every word that leaves his mouth, genuinely shocked at the suffering he has lived through. 

The plate in front of you is long empty when he comes to the conclusion of his little tale and blushes like a schoolboy as he bares his soul to you, so uncharacteristically serious it makes you feel somehow special, as though this side of him is one you rarely get a glance at. 

“It’s good to know my friends are fed and safe. You, too”, he mumbles, looking so small, so vulnerable. “I don't ever want you to go hungry. And as long as I am able to, you never will. I promise you that.” He says it with so much fire it makes you swallow. He truly means it, it’s not some made-up front, some poor excuse.  It still leaves questions to be answered but you don’t ask them, content with letting him cheat the gallows tonight. Why don’t you watch Luffy in that way? Zoro? Why do you linger by my side the longest, not Robin’s, not Nami’s? 

Thoughts are swirling in both of your heads, you can tell - you desperately want to say something, maybe even apologize, while he still grapples with all he has just shared. In the end, you decide against it - your suspicion was fair, you think, and Sanji isn’t exactly the definition of subtle about his little peculiarities. 

Instead, you lean over to him, cleavage spilling over two folded arms, while your dominant hand grabs his. You smile at him and he returns it eagerly, one fluttering eyelash away from slipping back into his old self at the sight in front of him.

The best defense is a good offense, you wager.

“So no food in bed?”

[mpregdimension]

I melted back against the couch cushions, savoring the warmth of Santiago's muscular arms wrapped tightly around me. At 7 months pregnant, my belly had ballooned out enormously, though the sleepy Santiago still thought I was only carrying one big baby. If only he knew the truth that I had twin sons brewing in there.

"It's time for you to tell me how your three weeks in Colombia went. How're your parents doing?" I asked, craning my neck to nuzzle against his scratchy cheek. Santiago had just gotten back from another Colombia trip.

"They're good, babe" he mumbled groggily, planting a lazy kiss on my temple. "Mom keeps bugging me about when I'll finally bring you to meet them."

I managed a smile, though part of me worried his mother might not be as accepting of our relationship as she let on. Since I found out I was pregnant Santiago has stopped talking about his parents, children and friends like he did before, even though he travels to Colombia almost all the time to visit them.

"What about your...other family?" I ventured cautiously.

Santiago immediately tensed up, his eyes flashing open. "Paul, you already know I'm still in the same situation, there's no need to ask every time, please don't make me talk about that damn ex-wife," he grumbled, suddenly sounding more awake. "That shitty divorce is still going on for years, at least my boys are fine, busy at university without having to get involved in those problems."

Deciding to drop it, I just nodded and leaned back against his chest, breathing in his musky, familiar scent. Santiago nuzzled against my neck, his hands roaming down to cup my huge pregnant belly.

"Damn, you're getting so fuckin' big, babe," he purred in that deep, gravelly voice. "I can't wait to meet our little man."

Our little man...if only he knew. I worried my lip, debating whether I should finally tell him about the twins. 

Before I could decide, Santiago surprised me by whispering hotly in my ear, "You know...it's been way too long since I pounded that sweet ass of yours. Why don't we head to the bedroom so I can really go to town on you?" His breath was hot against my neck.

My eyes widened in shock at the bold suggestion, panic fluttering in my chest. As much as I craved intimacy with Santiago, I couldn't risk anything that might inadvertently trigger labor prematurely.

"Babe, I...I really don't think that's a good idea," I stammered awkwardly. "The doctor said rough sex is off-limits this late in the pregnancy."

He let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Who said anything about rough? I was thinking nice and hard...Help get you all loosened up down there for when the big day comes." His hand stroked along my thigh teasingly.

I gulped nervously, my heart pounding as desire warred with prudence. Part of me was tempted to throw caution to the wind. But the protective father within wouldn't endanger the twins.

"Please, baby," I pleaded, putting my hand over his to stop the sensual motions. "I want the memories of going into labor to be peaceful, not because we got too carried away fucking like animals."  

A frustrated groan rumbled from Santiago's lips as he begrudgingly pulled his hands away. His eyelids were growing heavy again, that burst of frisky energy fading. I could see him struggling between the urge to ravish me and the siren call of sleep.

Finally, with a defeated sigh, Santiago seemed to give in to exhaustion. "You're right, babe. We'll save that for after the little dudes get here." Within minutes, his breath had evened out into the steady rhythm of slumber. The lingering secret about my twin pregnancy is still burning in the back of my mind. Would it be better to keep it a surprise?

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter 11 — "you promise?"

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; ateez being absolutely fking whipped for you. Mutual pining(they don't know its mutual tho). unironic use of alpha(I'm sorry ik it's bad). omega, omega, and more omega. (you'll understand that soon) fluffy but also really angst but dw it's gonna be okay I SWEAR. You overworking, mention of diet culture (for one line) and the struggles of being an idol, suggestive undertones towards the end. If I forget warnings, it's bc I don't know or forgot to add them.

There's a forbidden trail you follow. One you never thought you'd be led on. Wooyoungs hands are firm and soft when he pulls you along, and your tears dry quickly. Something you've gotten used to with time, the way his soft, smooth hand holds your own. You wish to be able to feel them for the first time again.

The first time. It was a fan sign. It's one of the first ones. You can't believe how nervous you were, yet you stood your ground and faced the crowd. Deep and methodical breaths filled your lungs.

Wooyoungs hand slips into yours under the table, out of view from everyone. If it was accidental, he doesn't seem to notice. Back then, you were just as small and niave. He squeezes once. Then twice. You wait. Feeling as if you should anticipate something.

You watch him from the corner of your eye. With his free hand, he waves, on his chubby face is a smile. His purple hair sways from the fans overhead. You want to push it out of his face.

You squeeze. Not once. Not twice. But three times. 'I love you.' The three squeezes. Letting the words echo in your mind. You don't expect him to know it. Something you learned when you were a kid in a foreign place, pretending to know what those words actually meant.

He squeezes back, one time.

You don't even pull your head up to look at the car. Don't even bother to watch where you step when you get into it. Wooyoung does the guiding for you. Doubtfully. Messily. He's never been good on his feet unless he was dancing.

That's not true, but he wants to make it seem like he's not nervous at the realization.

You, the beta of the pack. The one he's got closest with as soon as you met. You, the slick smiling, bias wrecking, only girl, 9th member of his permanent group. You, who he loves to squeeze, tease, and mess around with. the most calm, level-headed, beta person he knows.

The alpha can't believe it. Well, not to stereotype. But he's definitely stereotyping when he says you are- were the definition of beta.

You're an omega? He doesn't understand it himself.

It's a flashback to the day seonghwa found your bottle of scent suppressants.

It takes him a while to realize what it is, fiddling with the bottle in his hands.

"What's this for?" He asks, yunho. His left eyebrow raised. Yunho sits across from him on the free couch. He sits on the edge, scratching at his hair. The energy he holds is as if he's about to defend the reason he slipped the bottle into seonghwas hand when they got through the front door from filming. And he does.

"Have you been noticing anything off with her?" He points to the bottle, eyebrows raised. Seonghwa tries to connect the invisible dots yunho is throwing at him.

He nods. But he speaks up, "she's been different since she came back from the hospital. She's tired." He defends your honor even if it isn't something you said directly. Seonghwa looks back down at the yellow label. 'New Box' is the headline of the bottles sticker.

'Scent suppressants for all sexes, works best for omegas and betas' the smaller fine print says under it.

"Did you steal this from her bag???" Seonghwas jaw drops, he finally connects some of those invisible dots. A picture is beginning to form.

Yunho shoots up from his seat, pacing between the couches. "I did, but earlier today at the monitor, you remember, yeah?" Yunho looks to seonghwa briefly. His hand falls to his hip.

"Yes.. and?" How could seonghwa forget the display his younger membered showed with you? He had half a mind to turn away and walk. It's not like he was jealous, not with yunho.

He's just not a big fan of being touchy in public, but he wouldn't have mind if he was there, telling you you're perfect along with yunho. He doesn't think about it any further.

"When I was showing her the monitor, I leaned over, and when I did, I smelt.." yunho rubs a hand down his face. "I smelt her, really her," even yunho sounds crazy to himself.

"You know that artificial smells she's had since she came back?" Yunho jumps to the deep end. "Yeah?" Seonghwa sighs. Yunho takes his seat across seonghwa again. "That's what that is, and since I helped myself to her bag. I found a bunch of other things too"

Seonghwa doesn't want to pry into your personal stuff. But yunho doesn't sound too far-fetched. Yunho pulls out his phone, handing it to seonghwa. On the screen is a picture. The first thing he sees is a couple of small roll on perfumes. Clear, tiny fluid filled bottles without labels. A couple of medications he knows you keep on hand. Headache relief and sore body relief pills. Your tiny knick nacks take up the bottom of the bag, it's endearing really, everything in the bag screams you.

'Heat suppressants'

His eyes bulge. He zooms in with the pads of his fingers, zooming in on the bottle. Like birth control, it's got a subtle design to blend in.

Seonghwas heart leaps to his throat. He blinks, at a lost of words. "Thats not all" yunho leans behind the couch tucked against the wall. Where he pulls out something he hid.

Yunho throws the brown bag he recognizes from earlier this week, from when you got back from the hospital. The bag san grabbed. It's zipped open.

Tea bags and cake recipes in plain boxes. Shampoo and conditioner seonghwa is unfamiliar with. Perfumes and bottles of lotion he knows none of the guys or you use. But most distinctly is the smell of you. The scent of you. Vetiver, pumpkin, ambrette, and morning rain. There's the linger of alcohol and artificial scents in it.

Artificial beta you. It's surprising since it's coming from a bag and not the direct source that is your comforting aroma.

"She's an omega" yunho breathlessly says, taking the words straight from seonghwas' thoughts. The news isn't as shocking as he thought I'd be, it's like he already knew deep down.

Hongjoong doesn't know anything about that. The day he returns to the apartment at 4 am, he's surprised to see you wrapped up all comfy on couch. For a second his eyes watch the screen flicker across your soft features.

And when he takes his seat next to you, his hand drifts to find you. Subconsciously, his finger touches the soft skin on your ankle. He doesn't dare move any further.

He knows his hand is cold, his rings even colder. When you shiver, but don't pull away. You unconsciously drive him crazy. The back and forth conversation is at the very back of his mind. He misses you. He missed you a lot. And since he's been so busy, he hasn't gotten the chance to actually be there with you ever since you got back.

That week without you was miserable.

"I wanted to wait for you," your soft voice says. It echos in his head and peirces the silence that settles over the two of you. God, if only you knew how long he's been saying that for years to imaginary you that loves him equally so. Whenever you got close, and he wanted to lean in and kiss you all over.

But it's all in his head. And that's where it'll stay.

When your hand grips his, he leans in so you're not contorting yourself. "Lay with me?" You don't have to ask twice. Hongjoong scoots up right next to you. He drinks in your makeup free face, bare skin on display. A little breath you let out has him looking down at your plump lips, he quickly looks back up, hoping you didn't catch his stare.

"Nightmare?" He whispers, that's the only reason you stayed up, that's the only reason you want him so close. It's his duty as the pack captain to keep you safe in his close proximity. He pushes out his scent, hoping to ease you.

Your soft breathing fans his face, your droopy eyes slowly closing. His favorite smell in the entire world is you. Distant Vetiver. He breathes out. Watching your face relax. Soft Pumpkin. His hand falls over your hip. He wants so desperately to pull you closer. ambrette, and morning rain. He didn't know morning rain could smell like anything, but it's you.

You. It's always been you. All day, ever since you walked up that hill and gave him the most content of hug when you got back, the smell you unconsciously pushed out from the scent gland on your neck. he's been thinking about it.

You don't smell like those familiar scents anymore. You smell completely different now.

Sweet sugary nectar that enraptured his every being. And he isn't upset about it. Something in him is very fond of it.

When he wakes up the morning after. He doesn't want to move an inch. But he knows if he doesn't, your neck will be sore from the awkward way it lays on his arm. He sits up slightly, wordlessly wiggling his arm from under your head. He makes sure it doesn't fall with his hand cushioning you.

For a minute, he doesn't slip his hand from behind your head. His right thumb caresses your cheek, soft and shallow. You lean into his touch whilst you sleep, and he smiles down at you, a small snicker passes his lips at the situation. He bites his grin back.

Hongjoong wants nothing more than to be wrapped around your finger. To be the guy you want. To take care of you like you do him.

Hongjoong wants you to come to him with the truth when you're ready.

Jongho walks past your room. Once, twice, five times. Every time he wants to knock, he hears you on the other side. And he freezes up. He's like some lovesick puppy crawling at your door, whining to be let in.

Fuck it.

He knocks and pushes your door open. You're spread on the bed, your comforter and sheets scrunched up around you. The sun from behind him casts on you like an angel. The hue of sleepiness in your eyes when you lock them with his has him gulping nervously.

"Want to get some breakfast?" He sighs into his words, letting the anxiety out. Your smile- That makes jonghos' heartbeat thump loudly in his ears- lights up your face.

"Yes"

The walk is short, something jongho isn't fond of when he gets the chance to have these moments with you. Your shoulders bump. And he pulls the door open for you. The crowd only makes him walk closer to you.

You wrap your arm in his. Do you know what you're doing? You're killing him. Truly. Even the tiny things hold him hostage.

When he goes to order, you don't cut him off. That's the first red flag he sees. You're so independently you. It's custom for you to do so.

When you lean up to whisper in his ear. That's the second one. You never lean up to anybody. Usually, people lean down to hear you. Not the other way around. Still, he meets you halfway.

Jongho slides next to you, the excuse of it's too crowded on this tip of his tongue if you ask. You never do. You don't pull away when his shoulder bumps yours. "How's your elbow?" His fingers graze your arm.

You look up at him, your brows crease. It's then jongho thinks about how short you are. It distracts him only for a second.

You respond simply, shrugging him off. That's red flag number three. Jonghos eyebrows furrow, and his face pulls at his mask.

"If it wasn't, why were you in the hospital for a week?"

He watches the war of emotions flash your features. And that's the final straw for him. You clearly lie when you mumble out an excuse. He wants to press you. What are you lying about?

Why would you lie?

"Tests? What for?" He leans on his shoulder, staring at you from over the black mask on his face. He takes charge of the conversation. He waits.

"Because i.. because I'm a -" Ding!

The ding signifies jongho clicking everything into place. It's like a puzzle he's been working on. How you smelt different when he hugged you after you returned. How docile you looked this morning. How you leaned up into him. How you grabbed him. All of this is so uncommon for you.

Jongho is so used to you looking throughly messy in the morning. It's not something he dislikes (he likes how you look always), but it's so you to be messy. You leaning up into him, he doesn't ignore the way you take a big inhale in his ear before you speak. It's not his imagination. These things are so unlike you. Yes, you are the beta standard. Everyone agrees. Even you. But this.. You're being so.. he can't wrap his head around it.

Because.

He walks up to the counter, taking everything he ordered in his strong grip.

Because you're an omega and jongho is the alpha who figured it out.

Jonghos feet past faster than yours on the concrete. He doesn't slow down because he's locked in thought. He doesn't even notice when he sets a tone he didn't mean. He's gotta ask someone else about this.

He's got to figure something out.

Mingi is so clueless when it comes to you. Mingi is.. actually very clueless all the time. When yunho bursts into their shared bedroom. Ripping off the blanket from mingi. He's got half a mind to sit there, blinking his eyes in a sleepy daze. Yunho explains his master plan.

Mingi doesn't register any of it until yunho tells him a second time.

Mingi isn't unhappy about being told by yunho that you're an omega. He's completely still out of it. He's mostly unhappy he didn't figure it out himself.

It's very mingi to come to your room with a pillow that smells heavily like him. Your room is the most comforting in the apartment. He likes to think he contributes to it because his scent lingers in your bed the next morning. A certain possessiveness mingi indulges in.

Your sleepy face turns towards him. Beckoning him in.

He forgets the story yunho prepared for him.

You are so pretty. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" He fiddles with your doorknob when you look at him. He knows if the media got wind of how pretty you actually are, they'd be all over you in a second. He's somewhat happy the makeup artist don't do your specific features justice. When you let him in, he kicks his feet when he falls on your bed. The bed that smells like you.

The sugary sweetness under the mask of your beta scent is something he particularly takes a full second to shove his face in.

"I sleep better in your bed," he finally says, pulling his face up from your spot that smells specifically like you and no one else. Your fingers pull the glasses off his nose. He forgot he even had them on. As you lean over to put his glasses on your side table. He takes an indulgent whiff of you.

"It's because my room isn't messy," he can hear the smile in your words. It makes him smile. He bites his cheek gently. In the silence he tries to remember what yunho wanted him to say.

"I'm sorry again," he murmurs. And like you always do, you reassure him. It isn't his fault. There's no witty remark, something you usually make because you prefer to keep things light and he knows that.

Your excuse doesn't make him upset either, he doesn't think anything you do will make him upset. When he says something that makes you laugh, his heart pumps blood up his neck and his cheek grown warm.

He knows he's awake enough that it's not the drowsiness that takes over his next moves. Mingi searches for your hand under the pillow, when he finds it, he pulls it closer to his side. A satisfied sigh leaves his parted lips.

The softness of your skin to mingi is like falling into a basket of bunnies. Okay, maybe he's being dramatic. But his thumb caresses you like he would a bunnies ear.

What does he say now?

"I'm here if you ever need anything" it slips outs, his finger parts your thumb to intertwine his fingers between his. The scent glands between his fingers meet yours. A passionate and forward display of affection that mingi soaks in.

Until you pull away. And the faint crack of his heart rings in the dark room.

San and yeosang share the space at the top of the tower, prideful, they watch you lean and maneuver yourself. San is doing most of the shouting.

As soon as you get close enough, yeosang is pulling you over. Praises stop just as he's about to say them. The whiff that comes with you is sweet and all-consuming. San smells it, too.

You take it with you when you run to the table. Your smile is beaming. But San and Yeosang don't smile back.

Shock hangs in the air. Yeosang and san only stare in shock when you pull out something. Rolling it over yourself.

Afterward, you run without looking back. Yeosang doesn't know exactly what to do. Neither does San.

When they meet up at the bottom of the tower, San pulls hongjoong aside whilst wooyoung pulls yeosang aside. "What happened? Where is -" He asks his best friend with worried eyes. Yeosang doesn't know whether or not to tell him.

"I.." yeosang looks anywhere else. Wooyoung doesn't wait for yeosang to answer, pulling him over to the boys who crowd San and Hongjoong.

"I don't know where she went." San throws his hand up. Hongjoong steps back with his hands on his hips. Somewhere around here they will be called back to set and you will be missing.

Wooyoung is utterly confused, "what's going on?" He asks, and everyone goes silent. He steps forward, repeating himself louder this time.

"She's an omega," San says quietly, glancing at hongjoong and then back at wooyoung. Whatever response wooyoung was expecting, it certainly wasn't that.

And now that you're all caught up. Wooyoung storms the entirety of the building searching for you. Any hint of your freshly dyed hair, scent, or perfume is another lead to getting to you. Letting an omega, one distressed and upset loose around a building where, yes good people are, but there is bad somewhere. Everywhere. And he especially told the guys about this.

"You let OUR pack member go? When she's extremely upset? Did anyone even- by herself! She's still healing and you let her go off by herself!?"

Yes, maybe he's being more mature than he's even seen. It shocks himself more than his members. And when he finally finds you, a different weight falls over his chest. Your sobs and tears are the last thing wooyoung wants to hear or see. Softly, he reaches out. You pull away, upset, you say words that have wooyoung pulling his lip between his teeth to prevent barking back anything he could say in the moment that'll hurt your feelings more. You're highly sensitive right now.

Wooyoung doesn't know if he's ever seen you cry like this before. Doesn't even remember an instance he's ever seen you so upset. The first time wooyoung saw you crying, you let a few fall, wiped them away, took a deep breath. Then you got up and continued with your day. Just a few tears compared to the river you are at the moment.

He wants to wipe them away and pull you into his chest. He can't, though. You're irratic, lost in your own head, and nothing he's currently saying will get to you.

He chances it. "Omega, please." he calls to you.

It's like a switch. You look up at him with puffy eyes. The shock on your face makes wooyoung feel terrible. It should have been something you came to tell him about. It's not something he overheard from someone else like gossip. It shouldn't have been.

As soon as the car comes to a slow stop at the apartment, you can't bring yourself to walk up the stairs or even get out.

You know, as soon as you get out and stay locked up in your room, once the guys return, someone will come to ask questions. That things will change from what you're used to. And you'll lose something valuable. It's just a sneaking suspicion. But to you, it's the ever growing truth.

"Chen? Could you please take me to the dance studio?" You ask, staring up at the building. Chen, bless his heart, takes a second to think about it. Worry creases his graying eyebrows.

The dance room is a breath of fresh air. The familiar space takes away your thoughts.

And now that you're in this familiar space, you do what you do best. You dance to distract yourself. Your phone hooks up to the speakers, blaring loudly. Music beats your eardrums, and your heart does, too when you move about freely.

Your newly dyed hair sticks to your face. Your clothes aren't very dance worthy but you've wore more uncomfortable ones on stage. Your low waisted jeans stick to your skin, along with the hoodie sweater you wore. You're sweating heavily.

You don't even have your purse to reapply your scent blockers. It doesn't matter if you did. You don't care who knows anymore. Your manager isn't here either. A giant no-no. You left filming, an even bigger no-no. And now no one knows where you are except for Chen, the ultimate no-no. You trust him not to say anything, though.

You might get removed from the group for this. You might get blacklisted. Kicked off the face of earth. And you wont know until they tell the media. You wont know until atiny find out. But what does it matter when nothing matters to you at the moment. You've never broken your contract rules. No dating? Not even when you were a trainee. Keep up with diet culture? Who needs food anyways. No partying? You got it, boss. No smoking? You don't like smoking anyway. Get used to wearing irritating makeup and the stuck-up people you deal with on a daily basis? Gladly.

Never, never allow yourself to get comfortable. The fear of never being enough will keep you on your toes, perform until you pass out, sing til your lungs hurt, and write lines until you can't feel your fingers. Work endlessly 24/7.

You fall to your knees, breathing heavily. Your head meets with the cold wood floor. You lean against it for support. Breathe. You're trying. Continously heaving for breath. You wrap your arms around yourself, your knees pull into your chest against the floor your head still is tucked on the wood.

The burden taken on every day is your own. The way you work yourself to the brink of death is your own doing. Your manager has told you this before, even in your day off. Everyone you know has said the same thing, everyone knows how hard you push.

"You've earned it," Kimmie celebrates. Handing you a cupcake. "You debuted!" She cheers, blowing on a whistle, you stare down at the pink frosting in shock. "I'm so proud of you"

Years later, are you proud of yourself, though? Years later, are you willing to let your dream die? Years later, are you willing to risk everything? To tell them how you really feel, why you are the way you are now? How you became this way?

The door to the dance practice room stutters open. The foggy glass gives away your position inside along with the bright lights. Your breathing is all caught up, but you still keep yourself as low to the floor as you can.

Don't look, pretend you're not here, please. Please.

A warm hand meets your back. You can't hear anyone over the music. It stops abruptly. The silence is suffocating, just like the jeans you're wearing. Just like the hoodie you have on. The cold of the floor caresses your sweaty forehead, that is, until someone's hand wedges between it and you.

Softly pulling your head off the floor, yeosangs lean pale arms come into view. Your face turns in his direction, a deep set pout and fear in your wide eyes. He's squatted next to you, his knees on the floor must be uncomfortable. His hand brushes the hair off your hairline back. Words are stuck in his throat.

"It's okay." he whispers just to you, sighing at the end. Your eyes fall into a squint at the floor, and your nose scruches. He takes a second, thinking over his next move. He decides to guide you into his chest. He doesn't overthink it. Maneuvering your arms to wrap around him.

Yeosangs arms wrap around you. he's comfortable and caring, his heart beats down next to your ear. He doesn't really know what to do with his hands, he's not very good with touch. But he's trying for you. He lands softly on the floor, sitting on his butt and pulling you closer into the gap between his lean legs. His hand rubs on your arm, the other hand on your hair strokes it behind your ear delicately. Lemonade tea and cocoa butter stripes the stress off your shoulders, yeosangs scent is addicting. Like a warm blanket.

"I'm sorry, I'm okay" you try to reassure. Who? You don't even know. Yeosangs head nods over your hair, he doesn't believe you thus why he keeps pushing out his scent to calm you. But he let's you say it anyways. The door opens once again, scraping against the wood sharply.

"Did you -" it's jongho, his words fall short. He turns around and walks back out the door. The distant shout in the hallway signals that this is real and jongho is calling the rest of the guys.

You don't know if you can do this.

You pull away from yeosang, taking one final deep breath. These emotions that choke you are unwelcome. You need to get your shit together. You need to act like an adult and take care of the issues you cause. Yeosang pulls his hands back and stands up from the floor.

You take a full second to follow. Just in time, the manager bursts through the door, right behind him is jongho. Jongsiks hands grip your shoulders. "You okay?" He words out, the older man concerned. You adore jongsik like a father. He's your favorite staff member.

You nod, straightening your lips into a thin line. Jongsik scans your face as if decoding your answer like it has a secret meaning. He nods after, pulling you along with him down the hallway.

Your phone is on its last life, 2%. How long were you in there for? 10 pm, the clock flickers. Finally, it shuts off. Completely gone is the comfort of your phone. You sigh. Behind you, yeosang and jongho trail back. It's silent even when you step out of the building.

The night air nips your nose when you wait for jongsik to pull around with the company car. Yeosang stands on your left, awkward, looking anywhere else but at you. Your arms subconsciously wrap around you. You're cold, but you won't admit it. You won't say you're cold, not when the tension is so thick and making you claustrophobic.

The whiff of fresh florals, mahogany, charred sandalwood- you know this smell, it's jongho. You turn to look at him on your right. He shoulders off his black jacket, sticking it out to you without another word. You don't want to take it, don't want to give him another reason to pity you in this moment. But the look in his eyes when he stares so deeply into yours says 'go ahead'. You look down as you take it, unfolding your arms and shuffling it on. It's all the smell of jongho, every last bit of him. Every hint and detail.

You subtly sniff it as you shuffle around. Leaning on the balls of your feet. Jongho doesn't have another jacket on, just a thin brown hoodie. His eyes look ahead at the empty street, and his large palm wraps around his forearm while his other arm swings loosely by his side. He looks as if he didn't just hand over his jacket to you. He looks normal in the chaos that swirls around you. His soft eyelashes flutter, his heart-shaped lips part.

He's so boyfriend coded, you think. The thought makes you turn away. Where did that come from?

No one takes the front seat, you wonder why, when you first got in the car you sat in the middle, you're so used to sitting in the middle so the guys have room to move around, squishing them together seems cruel. You don't even think about scooting over. Yeosang takes your left whilst jongho takes your right. It doesn't even bother you when you when the potholes make you bump into yeosang. Or even when jonghos big shoulders lean into your spot.

All of that lingers under the anxiety pouring out of your pores. You're mentally sweating profusely. What the hell are you going to say? How are you gonna explain you went into heat? It is so embarrassing explaining to the eight guys you love (more than friends, you've always known) that you were locked up in a room having to do the do with yourself for a week. Perhaps you should have your priorities straight instead of wondering about that.

Your face feels like it's heating up from the embarrassment you're gonna feel.

The apartment is a little less cold than the hallway. The door shuts behind yeosang. Signaling to everyone else you've just gotten back. Jongho types away on his phone, no doubt texting someone. He heads straight to where the kitchen is. Your eyes don't follow. Instead, you take off his jacket and hang it up in the closet. Yeosangs hand brushes yours when he does the same from next to you. You don't stop to stare, and neither does he.

The living room is normally spacious, but you feel claustrophobic in the setting you've comfortably gotten used to. You take your seat on the couch, and your head falls into your hands. Your palms rub at your eyes, pushing away the sleep clawing to consume you in its grip.

The night light of the city cascades against the dark apartment. You watch your vision blur the shapes together that dance on the wall across you. Your shadow smack dab in the middle, hunched over to hide into yourself. Yeosang moves about in the darkness, walking towards the kitchen himself. Just out of your view, you hear the chit-chat of the guys. They must all be in the kitchen trying to learn how to start a conversation with you.

You take the lead, pushing yourself to stand up. You take one deep sigh. And walk toward the kitchen yourself. The chitchat dies as you come into view, you learn against the entry, your hip meeting the cold countertop. The majority of the guys are still dressed. They must all have been out looking for you. Your head falls down, shamefully.

"Three weeks." You start, voice small. You clear your throat, shaking your head towards the floor. "I've been like this - an omega for three weeks" Your arms cross over your chest. The silence eats away at you.

"I-" "Why didn't you tell us?" Mingi says, hongjoong stares daggers at his face. Possibly hoping to quiet him. "I. I didn't.." You're tired of lying. You swipe your finger under your eye. "I was told not too," you speak clearer, looking up. All eyes are on you.

"They told me not to tell you guys. They said they were gonna sit us all down and explain it. Keep it under control until they have a statement to the press for my absence and my new sex.." You get more silent as you continue. Confidence deteriorating. "I didn't want to lie, but I.." You stop there, sighing heavily.

"How?" Hongjoong asks, eyes glance to him but the majority of them stay on you. You know exactly what he's asking. "I don't know, really. it started just a couple days before practice, I wasn't feeling well. Seonghwa, yeosang. You two noticed my scent was off and I still didn't think about it until I collapsed." You kick your foot, looking towards the two members you mentioned.

Seonghwa and yeosang look like sirens of the night. Their eyes peirce you. "I still don't know the exact cause of the change. The doctors said a few different things. I won't know 'til I get a call." You honestly say. The silence lingers in the air again.

"When is your-" a hand slaps over mingis mouth, it's jonghos, he holds mingis head to prevent him from moving out of his grasp, mingi struggles. It's funny, yet you dont laugh, only smile the tiniest bit. "When is your heat?" Wooyoung finishes for him, all eyes on him now. Well, more like all shock directed at him now. Mingi stops struggling, both he and jongho stare at wooyoung like he grew a second head.

"Less than two weeks" you bite your cheek, facing the bold question head on. "Actually, i had my first one while i was gone." your head falls back towards the floor. The wood planks are so very interesting. Wow. "I've been taking heat suppressants to bide the pain.. but I don't know. I won't know until I get there."

Silence again.

Seonghwa coughs, turning around. He breaks the silence as he moves bags on the counter. "Most of us had dinner but I saved some food for you" he hands you the solid plate, like its a code word. Each of the guys go to do something else, moving around and doing their own things. Plastic wrap covers the plate, you stare down at it in your hands.

The change of the conversation makes you trip on your thoughts. "You're not mad?" You blurt out, looking up at seonghwa who goes to pass you. He stops, surprised, he turns. "Mad?.." he mumbles, looking away as he thinks. "I'm not mad, why would I be?" He mumbles, eyebrows pulled taunt over his smooth forehead.

You blink back, once, then twice.

Seonghwa bites his plump bottom lip, looking to the living room where hongjoong is sitting with his laptop in his lap. They pass glances to each other. A plan under wraps that no one else knows about except for them. He turns back to you, sucking in a breath. Your eyes hold the universe, sparkling when you look up at him. He catches his hand before it reaches out. Scratching the back of his neck. "They're not mad either." He whispers down to you.

Mere centimeters away, the pure smell of you has seonghwa wrapped. If anyone is mad, he's certainly covering for them just because he doesn't want your pretty eyes to shed any tears. "You promise?" It's completely quiet. Seonghwa looks down at your lips pouting out gently.

"I promise." He glances between your eyes and lips. His hand scraps up against the doorway, leaning into it.

The tension is noticeable between the two of you, hanging high in the air. Your eyes never move, neither does seonghwa. In this moment he has you locked in his siren like stare. In the same instance your big worried eyes hold seonghwa hostage. Neither wants to break apart.

"Have you thought about.. who you have to call when your heat hits?" Seonghwa pulls his pliable lip between his teeth again, trying to drag an answer he didn't know he wanted.

Your lips part, your tongue pokes out to wet them. A shining sheen seonghwa wants to drown himself in. "No... I was just gonna endure.." You whisper, cheeks feeling hot. Seonghwa, scans your eyes. "You did it on your own?" He whispers back heavily, his mouth falls open only the tiniest bit.

"Mhm" you nod. He sucks in a breath, images flash through his mind. "Poor 'mega" he sighs just under his breath, his free hand reaching up to rub his thumb just under your lip, he holds your chin "you didn't have your pack to help you, yeah?" He glances down at your lips. It takes all restraint in seonghwa to not turn down and capture you in the passion he's feeling. Your thighs shifting is what catches his eye.

Your sweet smell is stronger in his proximity. Seonghwa wants to drink it in. He has to keep composure. He reminds himself.

He turns away quickly, leaving you in the kitchen. Plate still in hand. You let out the breath you had been holding, holding the plate tightly.

What was that?

Less than two weeks. Less than two weeks you have a decision to make. Whether or not they'll take up your offer, you don't know. But seonghwas display of affection yesterday captured you in the tide of troublesome emotions.

The sun beams through your window, shedding your dark room with lights. The breeze pushes open your curtains. They swirl in the brisk morning air.

You hold the paper in your hands. The mail you hold is very important, very, very important. You have to fill in the blanks and can't change it until your heat after this upcoming one.

The line that stunts you, is your emergency heat contact. The people or person that you should immediately be directed to, to situate you and take care of you when you won't be able to.

The line is blank, it can be left that way.. but you have many names in mind to fill it. You just hope they'll want to be on it.

Why did I write him like that omg(i know exactly why). Thank you for the continuous support, mwuah.

taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @unripeapple7 @ja3hwa @stopeatread @sousydive @voicesinmyhead-rc @giiouis @c4tboyxiao @eastleighsblog (if you wish to be added to taglist please comment under the main masterlist ♡ thank you)

[raayllum]

Transcript of Aaron Ehasz Interview (Sept 2024)

Podcast link here. Transcript down below with bulk under a read more.

R: Alright so welcome back to the Wordswithdragons podcast, and today I’m joined by a very special guest, the co-creator of The Dragon Prince, Aaron Ehasz. 

A: Hello, thank you for having me today. Glad to be here.

R: Thank you so much for being here. Um, yeah, so, as we semi touched on, it is the 6 year anniversary of The Dragon Prince this September 14th.

A: Yeah.

R: Do you have any thoughts, reflections, feelings about the show having gone on for this long and being such a big part of people’s lives?

A: I mean for starters, it’s really hard to believe it’s been on for six years. Like that seems insane to me. Cause it seemed like we had — Justin and I had been working on it for so long before it finally came out because we had worked on the story and then gotten feedback, and help in improving that pitch and bringing it out and we had it set up at Netflix, and we had to — we wrote the pilot obviously, and we didn’t know where we were gonna produce it, and found Bardel. So there was so much time between even just starting to think about it and when it came out.

R: Yeah, cause that was like 2015, right?

A: Yeah, I guess we started the journey in 2015 and we got with Bardel by the end of 2016, and it got released evidently in 2018, so... Yeah, yeah, cause I remember even we were writing kind of the end of season 3 when we had that panel with Marco and named the character after Marco.

R: Oh yeah.

A: The character [chuckles] from the first episode, we only had an opportunity for him to say his name out loud in that last episode because we were writing the ending while we were showing the episodes for first time, so. Anyway, that’s my reflection, it’s great it’s been six years.

R: Yeah. I know The Dragon Prince has been a really like — both life changing and I think, like, life affirming experience for a lot of people, myself included. So we just really appreciate everybody’s hard work on the show and are very excited for season 7 and hopefully beyond as well. As well for any future projects that Wonderstorm comes out with, like Bonders sounds amazing.

A: I feel — well first of all, thank you for saying that it’s life affirming, that’s such a nice thing to hear about something you’ve worked on, but I also agree that Justin and I feel a ton of gratitude for the whole team and the work and heart that everyone put into making this. I think people wanted it to be meaningful and special and that takes a certain kind of energy and vulnerability to build something like that, that you share, and our whole team really did give that in building the show.

R: Yeah. I think for sure. I think that’s like, um, I was even — I was rewatching some of the show earlier for — for a parallel, and it was the scene between Avizandum and Zubeia when she goes to him in like her kind of corruption dream semi-nightmare, and obviously that’s such a heartfelt, touching scene, and it’s always so strange. Because on the one hand, you should hate Avizandum, he killed Sarai and Rex Igneous has rightful criticism of him, but then you watch that scene of him and he really did love his family, so I think the show being able to draw out those strong, conflicting emotions for so many of the characters is one of the reasons why it connects with people to the degree that it does.

A: And that’s one of the themes you probably see in the show — just gonna make a quick —

R: Yeah, yeah for sure. 

A: Avizandum, which is that being a good dad can make up for awful lot of [R laughs] monstrosities, as long as you’re doing it in the name of being a good dad. I’m joking, uh. Of course, yeah, Avizandum was always meant to be a complicated figure like many of our characters. 

R: You mentioned that you guys have been working on — I think season three during this panel with Marco, or Marcos, and I remember, I think you’ve said before that the seasons get worked on concurrently, that there’s a decent amount of overlap.

A: Yeah.

R: I’ve always wondered, because we know — obviously, I’m a big Rayllum fan — but I’ve always wondered, cause I know they weren’t originally planned, and then you guys were boarding season two when you were like, “Hey, maybe this should be a thing,” and then probably like shifted and tweaked things or changed things to write more towards that in the future... Um, I’ve always wondered, if there was time, like at that time, to go back and change anything in season one for them, or the season one that we see was just like that?

A: I don’t recall there was time to change season 1 — that does happen because we are working on things in parallel because we are working on something in the script and then some time later we are working on the later stage of production, like an animatic, and we’ll be able to kind of give notes or even make changes with the knowledge of what’s coming, so that has happened. But in the case of Rayllum, I don’t think so. I mean, I think — again, I remember...

R: It was a while ago, yeah.

A: We were rekindling, or when we were realizing that something was being kindled between them, it was watching an animatic so that shouldn’t have informed our writing of season one, but our later stage stuff. But we weren’t trying to force anything so it got in there naturally and I don’t think we went back and changed anything.

R: Yeah, that’s what I’ve always — they had those kind of vibes to me from like episode two and three, obviously season two brought a lot more people on board, but I was always curious. Cause in season one, like, I think, it feels so natural, it feels so organic, and like I’ve shown — one of the things I love about Dragon Prince is it’s a great way to connect with friends and family and you kind of catch up with each other like through the show, of “oh have you seen the new season yet?” and that sort of stuff. And so when I’ve shown the show to like my brother-in-law, who is not plugged in at all, he also kind of picked up on it in season one, so I’ve always been curious. 

A: You know, what else, I’ll even say, I think we initially, intentionally planned they weren’t going to be a couple. We were like “Oh yeah, no, they’re—”

R: Friends, yeah.

A: Friends, with different views of the world and they journey together, and we don’t want them to be a couple. We’re not — we’re definitely not targeting it. I think we were intentionally not targeting it, and then it was “too bad creators! [R laughs] We’re going to fall in love despite everything you’re planning.”

R: Well, that very much I think even fits what they represent to each other, of like you don’t have to do this path that you think you have to do...

A: Yeah.

R: You can be something new. I always kind of felt like Ezran and Zym were — felt very kind of like designed as foils, as like a pair, of like through Zym, Ezran learns more so like how to grow up, and they’re both like the princes who will be king, and then Callum and Rayla also kind of felt sort of like developed as a pair, in terms of like — he needs to gain more confidence, she’s pretty confident on the surface.

A: Yeah.

R: She needs to learn how to open up, he’s really good at being open especially in the beginning.

A: Right. 

R: So I was always like...

A: He needs to be murdered, she needs to learn how to murder someone.

R: Yeah! They complete each other, yeah. Uh... Some other questions that I had [rapid typing]. So I guess, maybe, I have some questions that are more season specific, in respect to time, but I also had like more general questions. 

A: Okay.

R: So, one of the things I’ve always love in general and really love about The Dragon Prince is its like use of philosophy and like its deeply interested in ethical and moral questions, and presenting some answers for some of them, but like are those the right answers? We don’t know. 

A: Right.

R: So I know King Harrow’s choosing of Lady Justice’s blindfold is a pretty apt comparison to John Rawls’ Veil of Ignorance—

A: Yes.

R: Of, you know, you strip away everything that you could have, like advantages, disadvantages, and think, would the system work for me? Which has been useful when I’ve like, had to tutor students in philosophy actually, but I was curious, were there any like philosophical concepts or ideas that people really, or you really, wanted to work into the series? ‘Cause we have a lot of trolley problems.

A: Right. Um, probably. I mean like, I should say, I was a philosophy concentrator in college so I absorbed a lot. Things like  Rawls, I had a class with John Rawls, and thought that was a really interesting concept and I liked including it, and I thought we can include it in a fun way, the idea of justice. So other philosophy probably makes its way in, it can makes its way in accidentally or subconsciously, so nothing specific right now comes to mind. I will say, as with kind of Avatar before this, I don’t like to have — I’m not trying to have a right answer, ever. I’m trying to have the characters have a deeper understanding of what they’re struggling with, and y’know, move in a direction of deeper understanding, so if anything, it’s more interesting to me to see conflicts between maybe philosophical approaches that are different and see how — Oh well, this has these kinds of results, and positives and negatives, and this has... so that the audience can have a chance to say, “Oh well okay, I have some thoughts on that,” or “here’s what I feel,” and that’s why sometimes I think we see the fandom actually kind of go back and forth—

R: Yeah.

A: On — around characters and people’s choices, and things like dark magic or Viren, which are controversial, are things where like, I do not have a strong point of view on... the kind of binary right or wrong of... Viren in the long term. He’s made a lot of wrong choices and he’s made a lot of choices for good. 

R: Yeah.

A: He is an arrogant and power hungry person and he’s also a caring and loving father and someone who wants to have a positive impact on the world, right, like?

R: Yeah.

A: So those conflicts play out in him. But similarly, I think with maybe most of the philosophical ideas I can think of, I’d rather get to like a place where everyone just has a chance to entertain those thoughts and ideas and struggle with them, or hold them in an authentic way, and then can come to their own conclusions and feelings. I mean, I have some deep feelings about like, the world, and how can people be optimistic or not pessimistic or—y’know, what it means to hold onto hope or what it means to try to move past conflict, and I have beliefs that there are conflicts that get so you know, kind of sewn in, that they feel they are impossible to untangle, and especially if the game you’re playing is who started it, or who did the worst thing, where you can’t just ever untangle it. You can’t ever find a right or wrong, so how do you get past that? That’s one of the questions I was hoping Rayla, Callum, and Ezran would try to—

R: Figure it out.

A: Struggle with. Anyway, I’m giving a very long winded answer—

R: No, no.

A: That’s the philosophy that comes to mind. If something comes to mind for you, you can bring it up and I can go, “Oh yeah, that was probably influenced by so-and-so.” [R laughs] Or maybe not.

R: Well, one of the things I loved about season six was kind of — you see, even... One of the things I thought was really interesting was we see, not quite like that return to trolley problems, but we see Aaravos at the end of season 5 is telling Viren you have to make the sacrifice so that you can live, and then we see Rayla tell Callum, “Hey, if the choice ever happens, you also have to sacrifice me,” for — so Callum can live, but also for like the greater good and that sort of stuff. And then you have Kpp’Ar, who — I love Kpp’Ar, I think he’s terrible and interesting and I love him.

A: Awesome. He is — we’ll learn a little more about him in the future, but yes.

R: And obviously when Viren’s like, “A child will die,” and this is a kid that Kpp’Ar would’ve known, and we see in The Puzzle House that he loved these kids, and whatever is up with the Staff is bad enough that Kpp’Ar’s like, “Okay. I’ll make that sacrifice.” Which feels very much in a way like he’s given up on dark magic, and to a certain degree he’s both given up on the mindset of dark magic, and maybe also hasn’t given it up in the same way. Like I love that — Claudia, you know, obviously, puts Viren above all else, is she always right to do so? Maybe not, but we get why she’s doing it, that’s a hard thing to say. And then we have Callum, who also seems inclined to put Rayla above all else, and because we like Rayla more, we’re like “Yeah, he can do that, it’s okay for him to do dark magic for her, that’s fine,” even if there’s also like, consequences. Cause most characters in the show, like you said, everybody kind of wants the same thing, they wanna have a positive impact on the world, they want to protect their loved ones, but what constitutes that world, what they think is a positive impact, or who they want — how they protect those people, that’s all very malleable and can fluctuate. Viren says “Claudia, you’re on the wrong path,” and we’re like yeah, he’s right, and Karim says the same thing about Janai, like the exact same thing, and we’re like, well he’s wrong.

A: Yeah. I mean a lot of things come to mind when you’re talking through that, but one is there’s often a conflict between rigidity and rules and some kind of compassion, or emotional decision, and those decisions are hard, right? Like I dunno, maybe Kpp’Ar should’ve said, “Okay just this once, it’s Soren,” or not, I don’t know. I mean obviously Kpp’Ar had taken himself to some deep horrible place and he really had, actually. And was like, “Okay, dark magic is just corruption when you start and keep going down this path, but this Viren’s kid so I don’t know.” One of the things here, I think there’s a relationship between — you know, sacrifice plays a role here. Sacrifice and thinking about generations and generational conflict and thinking you know maybe in a way I think is interesting. I think about the beginning of season 6 when Claudia has done all of this and sacrificed another life but also sacrifices some of her soul or whatever to save her dad and he’s like “No no! This is not the way! A parent is supposed to do this for a child but never the other way around,” right? And there’s something to that I find interesting which is — it’s almost the inverse of children having the opportunity to start anew and break cycles, parents potentially have the opportunity to make sacrifices that don’t pass by burdens onto their kids, but sort of like that’s the mirror I see a little bit, in terms of how do you have generational change and evolution? It’s somewhere in younger generations being able to not get stuck on conflicts and burdens, but also the older generations recognizing that they may have to be the one to take the — and this is I think a natural... I dunno, it’s something I think about a little bit and came to mind when you were talking. So we’ll see more about what is the meaning of sacrifice and when — when do you... trade? Yeah.

R: Yeah.

A: Side note on sacrifice. You’re familiar with Game of Thrones? You’ve watched all of Game of Thrones?

R: I’m decently familiar, yeah.

A: Okay.

R: And if not, I can have Kuno explain it to me later, so.

A: One of the things I love about the sacrifice Ned made, that we didn’t realize he’d made until I think the very end of the series, we realize — a sacrifice to his kind of reputation, right? And I’m talking about him representing Jon Snow as his bastard to protect him, right? Think about that, that’s a sacrifice, he had to go through the anger — he didn’t tell his wife the truth, he didn’t tell anyone, because it was the only way to protect the child, and as a result he lived with — even though the truth is that he was a really honest, good, or evidently he didn’t go cheat on his wife, he sacrificed that part of his reputation to protect Jon, at least how I see it. I think things like that are kind of interesting. I dunno.

R: Yeah. Yeah, I think it speaks to that idea of — one of the things I love about Dragon Prince is it’s so much about choices.

A: Yeah.

R: Like one of the things I really really liked about season 6 was that, you know, Callum is like, “Okay, I’m going to get myself purified, healed of dark magic,” and Rayla was his light, which was very validating, cause I had noticed in season two there was like some framing so I was like well “Maybe, maybe” you know? And then slowburn buildup but it was — I think that was a great moment that really paid off. And he’s told “if you ever do this again, it’ll corrupt you completely.” And whether he will or won’t — I personally think that he will, but spoilers, you know — but whether he will or won’t, I think it’s really nice because now whatever choice he makes, he’s making with the full context, of what this would do to him.

A: Yeah.

R: Whereas in season two, yes he was making his choice to do dark magic then, and I don’t necessarily think he would make a fundamentally different one if he had known what it would lead to, but there’s a different kind of awareness. Like I always of it would’ve been so easy to have Harrow not know that Viren was going to kill Zym, cause that’s such an easy way to kind of let Harrow off the hook of well Viren went off and did this on his own, and Harrow had no idea, and blah blah blah, right? Cause we like Harrow, he’s a — again, he’s a good dad, we’ll forgive a lot. And instead, it’s not his idea but he’s fully aware, he signs off on it. And I think constantly pushing characters to make hard choices — kind of like what Ezran says, “these aren’t dreams, these are choices.”

A: Yeah.

R: You can choose love, you can choose to make... It’s something that makes all the characters feel so fully developed and interesting, so I always appreciate that you guys push them to make the hard choice. 

A: Yeah. Cool. Thank you.

R: One question I did have is, uh, Karim is one of my favourite characters.

A: Okay. Unusual person. A lot of people hate — or love to hate...? I love him too. 

R: I also love Kasef, so I think I just kind of love everyone, because I’m like well, they’re really interesting. I feel like [Karim’s] arc was one of the things I loved most about season 4 because you can see him really wrestling with his choices and I love watching him fail, cause that’s kind of all he does, so that’s always fun. But I am really curious obviously now he’s been betrayed by Sol Regem, Katolis is in ashes and maybe they’ll blame Karim for that cause Sol Regem is like — dead, and now, presumably his only hope is going to be that his sister doesn’t execute him on the spot? 

A: Yeah.

R: So is there anything you can tease about Karim’s arc in season 7?

A: Yeah, so — so it’s not just Karim, there’s an army of people who betrayed Janai, and — and...

R: What do we do?

A: Yeah, what do we do? That will be something we’ll have to see them grapple with pretty much right away in the season. Especially cause [Karim’s army] showed up for this battle where they were never even — they were just planning to sweep up the ashes afterwards, so when they didn’t get the dragon support they needed, I suspect they lost really quickly. 

R: Yes, yeah.

A: So uh... Yeah, but basically as of the start of season 7 — all of them are prisoners of Queen Janai and the question is — what do you do with that? What do you do when you have an entire army and your own brother who betrayed you? And so that’s — we’ll find out.

R: Yeah. [Laughs] 

A: But yeah.

R: Yeah. Another question I had going forward was Terry and Claudia obviously I thought had a really beautiful relationship arc, particularly in season 6, and we saw in season 4 the lengths he’s willing to go to for her, and how Terry, I think, is a great example of how there’s a lot of character traits where we think “oh, if you’re a selfless, helpful, accepting person, you’re a good person,” and I feel like Dragon Prince does a really good job of how, Rayla’s selflessness can be great but it can also be kinda bad, or, um, Terry can be super accepting, maybe a little too—

A: Yeah.

R: —accepting sometimes, right? So I feel like at the end of season 6, it will presumably be him, Claudia, and Aaravos for a little bit now that he’s out of the prison. And it feels like maybe Terry might hit a breaking point?

A: Here’s what I will say — Terry is a really special character and if you watched him, he’s so good, and what we’ll find out is, he is — there is an episode called TRUE HEART and he is someone who has a true heart.

R: Oh that’s so sweet.

A: It’s very impossibly rare and special — but also we all understand what a true heart is in some way and we’ll learn a little more about that. But yeah, the question of what will Terry do, what can he do, is difficult because he has a very strong sense of right and wrong, but he has a very deep capacity for love and he loves Claudia with all of his heart. Where does that present an impossible conflict, it may... we’ll see a challenge.

R: Yeah. Yeah, for sure.

A: I’ll also throw in like I sometimes see some parallels between Terry and Uncle Iroh—

R: Yes.

A: Though Uncle Iroh I think has a very different journey. Iroh is kind of a recovered problematic person who now has some wisdom and enlightenment, so in terms of the difference between the purity of a true heart versus where Iroh is more of a later stage enlightenment, the love that they have for the kind of complicated person that they are with is similar to me. And the way that they both sometimes have to, or don’t have to but...

R: Choose to?

A: You have to give that person the space — you can’t force them to choose right or wrong, you can be there with them, you can try to guide them, you can — but ultimately you have to give them the space to fail, and eventually, you may have to turn your back on them. 

R: Yeah.

A: At some point. I don’t know. But um yeah — I still see them as connected characters in my mind. 

R: I think I can even see some of that with even the way Callum is with Rayla, like season five onwards, of like “I’ve hit my turning point, I’m not mad at you anymore, and you can steal my key, you can lie to me, and I’m not going to have you open up to me out of guilt or obligation, I want you to tell me what’s going on when you want to tell me what’s going on, and I’m going to give you the space for that.” So I think it speaks to that unconditional love that I think—

A: Yeah.

R: —a lot of the characters are blessed to have. But I do see the Terry Iroh connection. So another thing that I thought was really interesting was — obviously next season is dark magic, and I’m very hopeful that maybe we’ll learn more about the origins of dark magic or Elarion, even. 

A: Great.

R: Because I know when I was watching Sol Regem burn down Katolis, it made me think of what might’ve either happened or almost happened to Elarion in the past, you know? 

A: Yeah.

R: Even down to Ziard and Viren both die, kind of deflecting and trying to save people, with the same staff, you know, and how the cycle continues to just always repeat itself over and over again. And if there was like — yeah, cause burning down Katolis was a massive shakeup, you know?

A: Yup.

R: And what maybe the process was there, with the — Aaravos seems like he’s trying to repeat the cycle of like “Oh I’m going to take down the dragon monarchy or I’m gonna use that vacancy to my advantage, and mess with the Sunfire elves.”

A: He has a specific vendetta against Sol Regem, obviously, but it’s one where he has played it out in... What’s certainly meant to be implied, even though we’ll find out more later, is that one of the great mysteries of Sol Regem’s life is that his mate disappeared and he never found her. He’s the freaking Dragon King, and she disappeared. And though we don’t know how or what happened, while she was buried alive. He killed her. He didn’t even realize it, somehow. Somehow, Aaravos manipulated him into killing her, and he doesn’t — I dunno, I assume Sol Regem does understand when it must have happened, but that moment, it’s like an impossible — it’s meant to be just...

R: Awful.

A: He’s tortured him for 1000 years or whatever, without him knowing he was being tortured by Aaravos, and now he’s given him the mercy/cruelty of knowing the resolution to the mystery was that he killed her. And one of the things that worked well with that was that, we had sort of said Sol Regem can smell the truth from a lie, so he has the horrible curse of being able to know this is the deep dark truth. So I dunno, I think um, are we going to find out more about that? So, if we can eventually get the Book Three novel out [R laughs], we will find out more about that.

R: I did wonder, I was like “Maybe this is something that was gonna be in the book three novelization.”

A: Yes, we will find out more in the book three novel, it may be a year or so before unfortunately. And then I don’t think we’re gonna get too deep into that in season seven, that’s part of — it is involved in what we’re thinking about as the third arc, understanding and resolving the third arc, is gonna go a little deeper into...

R: Some of the history, yeah.

A: Some of the stuff that happened with Sol Regem. But yeah, no, I — it’s enjoyable to have these figures like Aaravos and Sol Regem who are ancient and operate over the course of centuries and are incredibly powerful, yet they can’t — or at least Aaravos,  they can’t conflict directly as easily, and so Aaravos has played this really complicated game. Anyway, but yes Sol Regem is part of that, but there’s — there’s more, there’s more people who — beings that took from him. He feels that Leola was unfairly punished and that that was — you know, he sees a future and he has something... All this time, a burning — it’s the twisted form of his love, in which he’s full of hate right now to the beings who brought this about. Obviously, Sol Regem played a role because he’s a rules dragon.

R: Yeah, yeah.

A: He is the one who betrayed her to the Cosmic Council ultimately — but how do you punish the Cosmic Council? That’s a bit more complicated.

R: Yeah. No, I remember finishing season six and just being so impressed with the story. Like, taking that direction, and almost doing a lot of recontextualization, because it’s one thing to have like your worldbuilding where “magic in the story works like this” and it’s just very kind of like hand of God, you know? Like oh — cause the magic system has always been unfair, that’s why we have Callum, you know? It’s another thing to say we’re going to have characters in the story who are responsible for it being unfair. And now we’re just going to have that in terms of conflict and themes of destiny. We have about seven, ten-ish minutes left I think.

A: Probably seven, if that’s okay?

R: Yeah. Of course. 

A: I’ll throw one other thing in there, which is that — cause characters experience things that change them: has Aaravos experienced — I’ll phrase it as a question, even though probably the answer is here, has Aaravos experienced much that has changed him in the last — since the death of Leola? I mean certainly some things, and is what’s happening now changing him in any way? Is it satisfaction, is it the relationship with Claudia, and what does that mean to someone? That’s a question that I think we’ll have to watch play out a little bit.

R: [Intrigued] Okay. Yeah. One thing that I really liked about Leola’s character was I felt like she had pieces of each of the main trio in her? Of this very helpful innocent well meaning child, kind of like Ezran — and I have also always seen Ezran as autistic as well cause I know that Leola canonically is — and then you also kind of have the whole oh she gave  / helped humans have primal magic, which obviously Callum has. And even just being this young elven girl punished for her compassion and mercy, that felt a lot like Rayla. And when making the choice for Leola to be Leola, was that something intentional or like the choice for it to be a child rather than another loved one?

A: It was very intentional that it was a child... And we talked through other versions of Leola that could’ve been, in other ages, genders, relationships with Aaravos that an important person was lost. Some of the things I liked about the way, Leola both as a child, children are the cycle breakers.

R: Yes, yeah. I think it was the strongest choice.

A: And in particular also, the idea of coding her autistic was a little bit like not as cued to kind of accept the social order and the order of things, but actually more open in a way to in what some people see as like — something that’s broken which is not taking those cues, something else about that — not being bound by it that allowed her to have compassion that crossed the line in terms of the perceptions of what the Cosmic Order needed to be in it — but it made her more, both as a child and an autistic person, to make that choice and do what she did that changed everything.

R: Makes a lot of sense.

A: [Her being a child] also frames it with some innocence obviously right? It’s not calculated, it’s kind. 

R: Yeah.

A: So I dunno.

R: Yeah. Yeah, I’ve been curious about how Ezran might be challenged now that Runaan is back in the picture.

A: That’s a great question. That’s a great question. I mean, it’s so weird, it’s like no one even asks that, it’s like “Cool,” Rayla’s like “I’m gonna go get him. Awesome! Runaan’s back.”

R: Yeah I’m like either — either Callum is like “Ezran will be totally fine with it,” and Ezran  is probably not going to be fine with it, or maybe Callum knew that maybe it wouldn’t be great, and kept it under wraps. Yeah, I’m so excited for that like trio, potential broyals conflict, so...

A: Well, I mean, Ezran is a very special kid and he’s very positive and kind and forgiving and all of this. But we’re talking about, Runaan is back.

R: Castle’s destroyed.

A: Katolis is rubble. Where does that leave him?

R: Yeah.

A: You know? I mean — so I’m excited about that part of Ezran.

R: I know the fandom is really, really excited for Ezran to get to be — not that he hasn’t always been complex, but to get to be like messier, of letting his emotions maybe get the better of him and that sort of thing. So people are definitely hype for that, for — cause I feel like season six really brought home a lot of things for Soren, and it seems like season seven is going to do a similar thing for Ezran, so that’s — that’s really exciting. Um, with our final couple minutes, I wanted to see — do you have any questions that you want fans to ponder or to be thinking about?

A: Um... Gosh. I don’t think I have anything specific that we haven’t talked about, but you know. On some level, like, you know how do you take the tragedies and conflicts that we all inevitably face repetitively and relentlessly and kind of learn to move forward in hope and optimism? I think that’s more of a question of like how do you personally learn to process — all the kind of bullshit in the world, and process it, and still move forward as a kind, connected—

R: Measured person.

A: —hopeful person? That’s a challenge we all face in our lives, so that’s like...

R: Yeah. Well, I think the show does a good — really good job at asking and challenging that — that question. Uh, yeah, I think — I think that’s our time for today, uh. Thank you so much, this was... 

A: It was my pleasure. 

R: This was a lot of fun.

A: It’s always my pleasure reading your theories and your—

R: [Gasps] Oh my gosh.

A: Honestly, I came on today and to tell the truth [R laughs] a little bit intimidated.

R: Oh my God. 

A: You’re so—

R: I also felt intimidated [laughing] so don’t worry.

A: You’re so insightful and articulate, that I almost am like [R laughs] what if they catch me that there’s something not as smart in the show as I thought it was?

R: Oh my gosh, no, you’re fine.

A: [Overlapping] So anyway, I really enjoy what you write—

R: [Overlapping] I’m also a writer so I know what it’s like to be like “I did this subconsciously,” it’s — yeah.

A: I love what you instigate in the fandom and the kind of conversations you support and engage in. I’m a huge fan of yours, so.

R: Oh! Thank you so much, that’s so sweet. Um. And I am a huge fan of yours.

A: Yay. That’s a great way to end a podcast.

R: That is a great way. Okay. Alright, well thank you so much, hope you have a great day, great week, uh, and — yeah. Okay.

A: Alright, and I’ll see you soon, we’ll do this again sometime, I hope. 

R: Yes! Yeah. Okay.

A: Alright. Thanks again. Alright, bye.

[steddie-island]

Do it for him

Written for week one of @softsteddieseptember Prompt: Facing your fears WC: 1,517 | Rating: T | Tags: Hurt/comfort, Steve has a fear of doctors, Eddie Munson lives See ao3 for the full list of tags Dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

It should have been easy, something he didn't need Eddie here with him for, but it wasn't.

The room was cold, and despite the layers of clothes and the crinkly paper beneath him, the table was somehow even colder. There were goosebumps over Steve's arms that weren't brought on by the cool air.

It should've been fucking easy, but Steve was fighting the urge to throw up.

"Hey." Eddie's arm came up and wrapped around his shoulders, tugged him closer. "I'm right here."

Steve didn't trust his voice, could only find the energy to give a quick nod. It wasn't that he didn't trust Eddie, or that Eddie didn't make sitting there easier.

Steve hadn't seen a doctor since Starcourt. Since he and Robin had been tied back to back, since he'd been tortured and they'd come thisfuckingclose to being dissected. Even after Vecna, after he'd been chewed up and spat back out by the bats, Steve had insisted on not going to a doctor. Hopper had gotten it. He'd had stitched Steve up, had gotten him a prescription.

Their experiences might've been different, but the scars and the nightmares were similar enough that he didn't push. Steve had seen the effort it'd taken, too, for him to sit there while he sewed Steve back together. Every comment had been bitten back, the only sign that there was something to hide in the way the sheriff released his breath.

Steve had sat by Eddie's side in the hospital, once he'd been given the okay himself, but that was different. He could watch. Could guard.

Could use his bat if anyone so much as looked at Eddie the wrong way. That'd taken some convincing, too, to get the nurses to let him keep it in Eddie's room with him. Steve still wasn't sure what Hopper had said, but after the second or third day they'd mostly stopped paying him and his weapon any mind.

Steve's grip only loosened when Eddie's eyes opened up again.

It was a long road to recovery. It took a week for Eddie to not sleep through most of the day, then another week for him to eat anything more solid than chicken noodle soup. Week three they (albeit reluctantly) declared everything healed enough for him to get out of bed long enough to be wheeled down to Max's room to sit with her for a while.

After the hospital came months of physical therapy. Steve was right there, making sure Eddie made it to every appointment. Even on the days when Eddie shouted, when Eddie threw his books at the wall to try and push Steve away. Even on the days when Eddie broke down, because it was hard, and it fucking hurt, and the progress was so goddamn slow he was going crazy.

Steve was there when Eddie stopped fighting him, because even though the pain didn't go away he could feel the changes happening to his body, could finally tell that he was getting better.

Somewhere between one appointment and the next, over cheeseburgers and milkshakes and joints shared in the middle of the night when neither of them could sleep, something shifted between the two of them. Neither of them could remember who actually made the first move, but it didn't matter in the long run.

Now Eddie was the one doing the pushing. He was a better pusher, really didn't have to push much when he could just turn those deep, wide eyes on Steve.

"I'm worried about you," he'd whispered in bed one morning, when Steve was in that soft space between sleep and wakefulness. "I know your hearing is getting worse, and you need glasses… I know you didn't get looked at after everything, and I get why, but…" He'd kissed Steve's hair, his temple, his cheek. "I can't lose you. Please, Stevie. For me?"

That was all it had taken for Steve to crumple— something Robin had bitched about later, because she'd been begging Steve to go to the doctor for literal years. Eddie hadn't even had to mention the chronic migraines that put him down for days sometimes.

Once Steve had agreed, Eddie and Robin did the calling around, did the appointment making.

Now there they were, and Steve wanted to be sick. When he'd agreed he hadn't actually expected anything to happen, but of course his soulmates hadn't let him get off that easily. He hated them.

He loved them so much it was a physical sensation deep in his chest sometimes.

"I'm right here," Eddie reminded him. He had time to brush a kiss over Steve's temple before the door was opening and a man in a white coat stepped inside.

It wasn't just one doctor's visit. There were more physicals, there were x-rays and MRIs and visits where they checked his eyes and his ears. Eddie was still right there for every appointment, holding on to him when he could. When he couldn't actually be by Steve's side, he spoke to him from where the doctors said he could stand. That wasn't as good, but it got Steve through without him melting down right then and there.

The meltdowns always happened later, when they were in bed together, when Steve could let the stress of the day go and fall apart in Eddie's arms. Eddie held him, kissed his tears away and whispered how good Steve had done, how proud, and how grateful he was that Steve was taking care of himself, especially since he was doing it for someone else and not for himself.

Sometimes Steve fell asleep with Eddie whispering those sweet things into his hair. Sometimes he calmed down enough for Eddie to let him go, to start kissing down his neck and start sliding down his body, beneath their comforter. "You took care of yourself today, now let me take care of you, too."

Sometimes Steve ended up crying after that, too, but it was for a different reason. It was for how hard Eddie loved him, how softly he was touched, as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Because Eddie believed he was the most precious thing in the world.

"What do you think?" Steve blinked at Eddie from behind his new glasses. They were simple, round gold frames he'd picked out with Robin.

With his new hearing aid he didn't have to strain to hear Eddie's small intake of breath.

"I didn't know it was possible for you to look better than you already did," Eddie said. He cupped Steve's face between his palms and tipped his head this way and that, getting a look at the glasses from every angle. "You're so fucking beautiful, sunshine."

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie and buried his face against the worn fabric of his shirt. "Thank you," he murmured.

"For liking your glasses?" Eddie shook his head. "You don't have to thank me for that."

"No, not for— for that." Steve lifted his head and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "For staying with me. For helping me through this. I know it wasn't easy. I wasn't easy, but you stayed with me." His fingers fidgeted nervously with Eddie's shirt. "You didn't have to, but you did."

"Wasn't easy?" Eddie pressed closer, so Steve's back bumped against the counter behind him. "It was the easiest thing in the world for me. I hated seeing you upset, but it meant you weren't letting these things stay unchecked." His thumbs stroked Steve's cheeks, and Steve leaned into the touch. "We have a baseline now, to know if things get worse. You have medicine now, so you won't have to suffer through a migraine the way you did before. That was easy, sunshine."

Steve felt more than saw Eddie's smile as he was pulled against his boyfriend's chest again.

"Even if you would've been as much of a pain in the ass as I was, even if you'd yelled and pushed me away, I would've stayed. Because you stayed, too. You made me take care of myself."

Steve sniffed softly— he wasn't sure when he started crying, but he could feel the tears that weren't trapped behind his glasses soaking into Eddie's shirt. "You fought so hard to stay alive, couldn't let you give up."

"You did, too." Eddie kissed the top of Steve's head. "You've been surviving for so long, making sure everyone else had what they needed. It was time someone returned the favor."

Steve lifted his head, and Eddie brushed over his cheeks again, wiping away fresh tears. "And here I thought that's what you've been doing all this time."

"I had a lot of favors to return," Eddie said. He brushed the tips of their noses together gently.

Steve tried to argue sometimes, when Eddie talked so sweet to him, but as Eddie leaned in to kiss him again, the arguments died in his chest.

Maybe Eddie was right, and it was time to let himself be taken care of after all.

And maybe this time, he would do it for himself.

[nihilo-sensei]

The Infamous Chuuya-SSKK Car Ride

Two. Fucking. Hours.

Akutagawa and Atsushi have been arguing for two hours almost non-stop and there's still an hour to go in the trip. If you had asked Chuuya before he climbed into this four-wheeled prison what the most annoying thing on Earth was, he would've said without hesitation that it was dealing with Dazai. That was a more innocent time, a time before life had decided to punish him for his every felony, misdemeanor, and wasted gallon of milk. He wasn't sure if these apparently nuclear-powered bickering machines being confined to the backseat was better or worse for him. Probably better; at least one half of the invective wasn't being spewed directly into his left ear.

As much as he wanted to blame a member of the Armed Detective Agency for all of his misery, he was disappointed to say that it had been his subordinate and fellow mafioso who started this. Granted it hadn't taken much to get the weretiger to dive down to Akutagawa's level, but he was just trying to make conversation, asking if Chuuya listened to much music. Honestly, the gravity manipulator would've been delighted to spend a three-hour car ride talking about music, even with an ADA member. It was kind of nice that the kid had reached for some common ground between them. Akutagawa really hadn't needed to cut Chuuya off before he had a chance to answer by saying, "No one cares, weretiger." That one admittedly rude remark had sealed Chuuya's fate for the rest of the ride out to the countryside. Thanks, Aku.

"You better not get in my way when we get there, weretiger. The Port Mafia doesn't need Least Beneath the Moonlight."

"I guess I'll leave the job to Brash-ōmon, then. Get over yourself."

How are they still coming up with new insults? Chuuya hadn't even had the energy to tell them to shut the fuck up passed the 35-minute mark, about 25 minutes after his throat started to hurt from trying to match their combined volume. It was like they didn't even hear him. They were in their own little world together.

That was what he'd been warned about, though, wasn't it? Akutagawa and the tiger boy had… tension. He had heard about it from Dazai, but hadn't given it much thought. After all, why would he bother listening to anything that mummy's asshole says off the battlefield? He would happily throw Dazai off a building if he wasn't sure it would make that freak even happier than it would make Chuuya. Something about this train of thought makes Chuuya feel like a hypocrite for some reason. Where was he?

"At least I don't dip my bangs in Wite-Out!"

"Your impoverished ass could only afford one bang!"

Oh right, this thick fog of something making itself at home in Chuuya's backseat and inside his pounding skull. He had thought it was just a joke or an exaggeration, but this much passion for each other? Could all of that really just be simple hate? No, this doesn't really feel like hate. But if they don't hate each other why tell themselves that they do? That's so self-destructive. They should just confront their feelings like adults. Even if those feelings aren't romantic they could still find themselves good friends, they have a lot in common. At least they'd stop making their sexual tension or whatever everyone else's problem.

Why does Chuuya feel like a hypocrite again?

—

Chuuya stares into the rear-view mirror. The new Double Black had practically passed out five minutes into the drive to Yokohama. Not surprising after the mission had turned out to be far more complicated then they had anticipated. He wasn't complaining, he really couldn't deal with another three hours of angry sound waves bouncing around an enclosed space. Truthfully, they'd earned the rest. Even when the situation was going to shit they'd worked well together. Atsushi kept Akutagawa's mind on the civilians while Akutagawa's support kept Atsushi calm and focused. Chuuya sees now why Dazai put them together, not that Chuuya would ever openly tell the man he was right.

So he'd let the pair sleep, only debating whether he should wake them up after the blessedly silent car had crossed the Yokohama city limit. He had glanced into the mirror and caught sight of something that made him suddenly redirect as much attention as he safely could to it. The Sun had set halfway through the drive so he had had to wait for the car to pass the next street light to get a good look at it, and sure enough he saw exactly what he thought he had. At some point in the drive Atsushi and Akutagawa had leaned into each other while they slept. Atsushi's head was now resting on Akutagawa's shoulder while the mafioso's head rested on top of the weretiger's. Chuuya smiled. Definitely not hate.

As the car nears the ADA office, where Atsushi was to be dropped off, Chuuya pulls into a gas station with a new mission in mind. After he puts the car in park he takes out his phone and hopes that fatigue keeps the pair asleep and unaware while he does what needs to be done. He gambles on using the flash and wins a nice, clear picture that's going to absolutely make his fucking day the next time Akutagawa decides to make him sit through another "that goddamn foolish weretiger" rant. But was it really fair to make just Akutagawa suffer when Atsushi was about as responsible for Chuuya's three-hour ordeal earlier? No. And isn't the ADA all about that justice shit?

Chuuya opens his text thread with Dazai, taps his thumbs to the screen a few times, and hands down Atsushi's sentence with the push of 'Send'. He only has to wait a few seconds before the weretiger's irritating superior responds.

Mackerel (21:04): Oh my god, thank you so much for this! How useful my dog is becoming!

You (21:04): I seriously can't do this with you right now, Dazai. Those little bastards almost wiped me out on the way to the mission. They argued the entire time. I'm fucking tired.

Mackerel (21:05): Impressive, isn't it?

"Impressive" was one way of putting it. "Never gonna happen again" was another.

[lunar-wandering]

things about the Boboiboy series that drive me NUTS (this list is written solely from memory)

the fact that the first three elements, Wind, Earth, and Lightning, didn't really start out as having different personality's from Boboiboy himself (at least, not by much/it wasn't extremely noticable) but then, Lightning, after being split for too long, losing his memories completely, and achieving tier 2, becoming Thunderstorm, suddenly goes all Edgy(TM). and then Wind eats a mood-changing potion and goes manic, and not only does that unlock his tier 2, making him Cyclone but that becomes his personality. like. hello??? the implications.... and then later on, Fire, Water, Leaf, and Light manifest WITH their personalities pre-set. what??? the vague implication that the elements are sentient and the personalities started becoming more obvious when Boboiboy's mind started slipping/letting them have freer reign haunts me every day.

speaking of Fire's manifestation. he initially manifested from the stress of exams and walked around accidentally burning shit down in the middle of the night. what a mood tbh.

if the elements are sentient, the implications of Retak'ka stealing them from Boboiboy and using them- without having his personality change, is INSANE. like bro. he used them as a weapon instead of letting them be actual people..... and then later on in the comics Thunderstorm gets taken away AGAIN and is trapped in a sword, a literal weapon, and is used. again. HELLO????

both of the first times Thunderstorm gets summoned (both the obvious first time and the first time after they all got reset to tier 1 due to Complications) involving his phobia kills me every time why the FUCK did they do that. they didn't even address it the second time around but they animated Lightning looking like he was in distress anyways. WHY DID THEY DO THAT TO HIM. i know he's the fave but like. was this necessary.

BOBOIBOY JUST DECIDING "Y'KNOW WHAT??? I'M GONNA INVENT FUSIONS NOW HERE WE GO" IN THE SECOND MOVIE AND PROCEEDING TO ABSOLUTELY WIPE THE FLOOR WITH RETAK'KA

i could list so much Thunderstorm stuff tbh he's definitely the fave they give him so many cool bits of animation. he does the "teleports behind you" move SO OFTEN and it's SO GOOD

Leaf's deadpan "Fashion Tragedy" line

that one time Boboiboy split into Fire, Wind, and Leaf, and EVERYONE agreed he shouldn't have done that and should never do it again cause those three have negative braincells when in a group together

the songs??? like. the opening songs. the insert songs used in the movies. the OST. why the hell are they so good. i mean i know i personally like em cause they tend to use rock. but like. its SO GOOD.

Yaya and Ying being arguably the two most powerful/capable members of the friend group as they should

that one time Thunderstorm and Fang fought and they paused right before hitting each other and the objects behind both of them exploded from the force of the other's attack

in the first movie when it hinted that we'd see Boboiboy without his hat for the first time ever throughout the entire movie and then it FINALLY HAPPENED when he caught a giant hammer right before it could hit him and punched the dude away with a blast of energy. he has a white streak in his hair and it's visible in the series from this point onwards.

I KNOW IVE SAID A LOT OF THUNDERSTORM SCENES BUT THAT POINT IN GALAXY WHERE HE WAS USING TIER 2 BEFORE HE SHOULD'VE BEEN USING IT AND HE KEPT SWAPPING IN BETWEEN BOBOIBOY AND THUNDERSTORM THROUGHOUT THE FIGHT??? THAT WAS COOL AS FUCK I LOVED THAT

i could list so many of the really cool shots from this series tbh. that one time Light slow-mo backflipped over a bunch of debris and then activated laser eyes to shoot at the villain is a highlight.

literally everything about the fact the plot of this show went from "aliens come to earth to steal chocolate" to "boboiboy nearly fucking dies on an almost daily basis"

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Birth of Dragons

Pairing(s): Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aegon i Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon i Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: canon Targaryen sibling in*est

Words:2625

Summary: It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart.

Part 2

It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart. She was the baby, needed the most protection as she was the youngest. Visenya and Rhaenys agreed on this as well, for she was their favorite and most beloved. Many often speculated that Aegon married Visenya out of duty, Rhaenys out of desire, and (y/n) out of pure love.

With such a sweet demeanor it was a shock to all the day she mounted Balerion. The Black Dread wasn’t phased at all and allowed the third Targaryen queen to climb onto his back She was just a small speck among his black scales. Even he wouldn’t let Rhaenys or Visenya on top of him. He would bare his sharp teeth at either of the sisters if they dared try. Not (y/n). She coaxed him with a soft voice and delicate caress to his nose. (y/n) had her own dragon, an albino that she lovingly named Renoxa. The bond between rider and dragon was a strong one to begin with but (y/n) and Renoxa seemed to always be in such perfect sync with one another. Dragons couldn’t truly be tamed yet Renoxa was close to it. While even Balerion snapped at Aegon a few times, Renoxa would never dare do such a thing to (y/n). She was something different.

She had a way with all matters of beasts. Whether they were dragons or men, she was a beast tamer. In Visenya’s fits of rage, (y/n) was the only one to soothe her anger.

(y/n) was equally fierce though, determined to stay by her siblings’ side no matter what.

When she started showing signs of sickness, the other three Targaryen rulers were quick to forbade her from riding alongside them to conquer the north.

“Really, I’m alright. All of you worry too much.” (y/n) says and once again tries to reach for her armor, but Visenya pushes her aside and back down onto her bed. The youngest didn’t put up much of a fight since she had been vomiting all morning, her energy greatly drained.

Rhaenys shakes her head. “Look at yourself, sweetling. You’re in no shape to be riding.”

Aegon agrees. “She’s right. I’m not about to put you at risk.”

“What risk? We have four fully grown dragons. They’ll give up easily.” (y/n) tries to protest. Large violet eyes beg them to let her come. Normally they would have bent to the will of those lovely Valyrian eyes. No one wanted to risk (y/n) getting hurt though.

“No (y/n). You can barely even sit up. If you were to ride in your state you would fall off of your dragon and to your death.” Aegon firmly tells her. “You stay here and let the maesters tend to you. That’s final.”

Outside their fort they could catch the screeches of Renoxa and the other dragons as they leisurely roamed around their territory, loving the open air and freedom as dragons should have.

With the tone her brother had used (y/n) knew there was no way of making him budge. His rule was law. She looks away from her siblings feeling ever like the petulant child, her fingers fiddling with the dragon head ring she wore. Rubies in the eye sockets glistening in the daylight that crept through the window.

Unable to bear her sister looking so rejected, Rhaenys takes (y/n)’s face in her hands and gives her a kiss on the lips. “Don’t look like that. We’ll be back before you know it. Like you said, we have fully grown dragons on our side. What are direwolves compared to our beautiful dragons?” Her fingers brush away (y/n)’s silvery bangs and she places another kiss on her forehead. “Don’t be upset ñuha jorrāelagon.”

*

It was hard for you to not feel left out as your siblings donned their glorious black armor and set off on their dragons to finish taking over the rest of Westeros. You had been with them through it all, through every battle. You and Renoxa paving the way to Targaryen victory and conquest.

What else were you supposed to do? You could tell that even Renoxa was getting restless. You wanted to go outside and comfort her but the maesters that Aegon had put in charge of your welfare refused to let you out of your chambers. Any other time you would have tried to threaten them, stating that you were their queen and could not be kept locked up but in all honesty you were tired.

You spent most of the time sleeping. Any little thing made you so incredibly tired that you wanted nothing else but to take a long nap. You would sleep for hours and many times you wouldn’t even be aware that you had fallen asleep until you had woken up. It was then that the maesters had started bombarding you with questions. When was your last moon’s blood, when was the last time you had sex with Aegon; questions that had you blushing. You were still young after all. If they had asked the same thing to Rhaenys she would have just smiled and coyly replied without feeling any embarrassment.

When the third week had rolled in of your siblings being absent, the maesters gave you the news that you were pregnant.

The news was quite shocking to you. Of course you weren’t naive enough to not know what happened after sex. Pregnancy was a possibility. You just never thought you would be the first one out of your sisters to become pregnant.

To have a living thing growing inside of you was an odd thought. Your stomach was still flat and showed no signs of there being any baby. When you placed your hands over your stomach though you swore that you felt a heat that wasn’t usually there. Like a fire suddenly lit inside of you. You were going to be a mother. Your child, if they were to be born a boy, would be Aegon’s heir. His first heir.

Smiling slightly to yourself you grow even more antsy for your family to return.

The news that Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar had been spotted nearing Aegonsfort had you sprinting out to greet them. Maesters yelling after you, you slowed down remembering your condition but walk quickly.

Renoxa is already up in the air, almost as white as the clouds. Even from way up there she spots you and begins her descent. Your hair whips in the gusts she builds up as she lands on the ground, her mighty wings beating against the air as she steadies herself. Her scales were bright, almost to the point of blinding. It was a great contrast when she stood next to Balerion or any of the other dragons. Her blood red eyes gaze at you, unblinking as she gingerly nuzzles your cheek with her snout.

You kiss her giant nose, you could feel her hot breath from her nostrils. Lovely, smooth, scales like priceless ivory. She was a gorgeous creature despite her small size; she was as young as you were after all and was still growing. Renoxa was slightly larger than Vhagar but not by much and no bigger than Meraxes. Still she was perfect to you. Even though your siblings loved their dragons it was nothing compared to your adoration for Renoxa and it showed through your strong bond. You doted on one another. You were as protective over Renoxa as she was over you.

And now you hoped she would be equally protective over your child.

“You must know that I’m pregnant.” Smiling against her snout, a gentle sound vibrates from her barrel of a chest. Yes, she knew.

There’s a cry in the air of a dragon, Balerion’s cry to be exact. They were closer now and you noticed the Black Dread picking up speed as he tilted downward to the earth. Both him and Aegon must be excited to see you.

Renoxa cranes her head, opening her mouth to bellow out a greeting. To others it might have been ear piercing, a sound of horror, but to you it was the sound of utter joy. You grin when Meraxes joins in with Balerion in wanting to see you.

Soon enough the three dragons were shaking the earth as they landed. Normally there would have been a crowd to welcome back the king and queens, but people were still standoffish when all four dragons were together. They made for an intimidating sight. Bannermen cheered at the arrival, the good news of Torrhen Stark bending the knee had already reached Aegonsfort.

Balerion lowers down onto the ground so that Aegon could dismount him.

“(y/n)!” Aegon’s smile is big at the sight of you and you have to control yourself from yelling that you were pregnant. “You look much better! How are you feeling?” His fingers weave through your hair, slightly undoing the braid that the maids had spent a while in designing. His eyes were sparkling as he leaned down to pepper your face in kisses. Sometimes you forgot how young your brother actually was. Being a ruler made him act so much older, but his true age always came out when he was lavishing love and affection upon you.

You giggle and cling to him. Rhaenys was soon to join the two of you while Visenya chose to stand off to the side with her arms crossed yet holding a gentle smile on her otherwise harsh face.

“Oh my (y/n)!” Rhaenys sings and nearly pushes Aegon out of the way to hug you next. Aegon only chuckles and allows his beautiful sister to coddle you. When she took in all of you though her face changed. Not in a bad way, but in disbelief. “Your pregnant.”

Aegon’s eyes grew large at what his sister had said. It wasn’t even posed as a question but a fact. Even Visenya let her arms fall down to her sides. The news must have been a little upsetting to your older sister as she had yet to get pregnant despite being the first to marry Aegon.

Scared to jinx the news, Aegon asks with hopefulness in his tone “Is it true (y/n)? Are you really pregnant?”

Giddy you nod your head uncontrollably. “Yes!”

Rhaenys breaks out into tears. “My sweet (y/n) is going to be a mom!!” She hugs you, refusing to let you go or share you with Aegon.

Even though there was still much left to do, Aegon refused to leave your side during your pregnancy. That is why Aegon put Rhaenys and Visenya in charge of overseeing the rest of what needed to be done in order to truly construct a kingdom for the Targaryens to rule over for generations to come. And you were playing the part of beginning the future generations.

Aegon marveled as your belly grew larger and rounder. He loved showing you off to his new vassals at how much your child was growing and that surely they would grow up to be a strong leader of Westeros. Even other noblewomen who were pregnant as well didn’t have a belly compared to your’s. It worried you at first, the size of your belly. Wasn’t it too large? You would ask Rhaenys if it was normal but she had as much knowledge of being pregnant as you did.

“Perhaps it’ll be an actual dragon.” She teased. Her hands roamed all over your exposed abdomen, feeling the heat coming off of it. Rhaenys pressed her cheek against your swollen belly. “Or maybe you’ll be having two.”

You gawk at your sister. “Two?!”

Her laugh is as clear and tinkling like a bell. “Yes, women can have two at once. It’s not that common but it does happen.”

“Dear gods I hope it’s not two.”

“Regardless of how many you have we’ll love them all the same. Even if you do happen to pop out an actual dragon. It’ll just show the people how strong you and the Targaryen family is.” Quiet in contemplation, Rhaenys kisses your belly. “You have done our family much pride (y/n).”

Regret eats at you for your older sister Visenya. “It should be Visenya who is pregnant. She’s been married to Aegon longer.”

A frowning Rhaenys rolls onto her back next to you on your grand bed. She had forced Aegon away from you so that he could be part in building his kingdom. The only thing that soothed Aegon was the idea that she would be with you. “She has never been happy in this marriage, (y/n). A baby would have made no difference. But yes, I suppose it does sting her a little bit. She knows though, knows out of the three of us you would be the first one to be pregnant with Aegon’s child. He may warm my bed a few nights but at the end of the night he goes back to you.”

“He loves you too, Rhaenys.”

“Oh I know he does sweetling.” She taps your nose dotingly. “But there is one thing that Aegon and I can agree on and that is that we adore you above anyone else. He loves you more than me and I love you more than I love him.”

You curl up against her, you had always found Rhaenys’ heartbeat to be so soothing. Ever since you were a small child you ran to her for comfort. She would always embrace you with ready arms.

And Rhaenys stayed to comfort you during your labor. She never left your side and held your hand as you screamed in pain. Her hair had been braided and pulled back into a bun as to not get in the way as she was assisting with the birth.

Aegon and Visenya had been forced to wait outside and listen to your wails of agony. They had never heard anything like it. At first when you started screaming,

Visenya had gone for her sword with fear that something had happened to you. That maybe an assassin had snuck into the labor room. Aegon had stopped her with a hand to her shoulder and had her wait with him.

You had never gone through anything as painful in your entire life. Many times you had been wounded in battle but no wounds compared to the pain you were in now.

Finally after hours of screaming and pushing, your son was born.

A beautiful baby that screamed much louder than you ever managed to. Hair as fine as white silk. Even if he was covered in afterbirth you wanted to hold him close to you.

But he was taken away before you could even touch him.

“M-My baby. . .” You reach out imploringly to him.

Rhaenys scowls at the midwife. “What’s the meaning of this. Give your queen her baby.”

“I-I’m sorry your grace, but she isn’t finished yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“There comes another baby.”

“WHAT??!!”

“Visemarys and Baelyx Targaryen.” Aegon smiles down at his newborn sons. Rhaenys held your firstborn Visemarys while Visenya awkwardly held onto Baelyx. You were exhausted from giving birth to not one, but two babies and had no energy to continue to hold them.

“How will you tell them apart?” Visenya asks skeptically as she looks from one scrunched up face to the other. “They look the same.”

Right then Baelyx started shrieking out of nowhere, startling Visenya. His older brother merely looked at him, puzzled as to why he was crying. Switching from his crying brother he looks back up at his Aunt Rhaenys and gurgles in delight.

Aegon chuckles. “Well that could be one way.”

[wonijinjin]

THE WEEKND SERIES: SAVE YOUR TEARS - BOO SEUNGKWAN

author’s note: i love seungkwan with all my heart, he is such a pure soul, he deserves all the happiness there is in this world.

synopsis: when you are at your lowest the person who helps you shine shows up to save the day.

word count: 0.6k | genre: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort | pairing: seungkwan x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of bad mental health, tiny bit of cursing

the masterpost of this series can be found here.

the first thing you heard when you came to was your phone ringing, then a loud noise of something breaking outside of your apartment. “i don’t know if you are awake, but i am coming in with the spare key!” you heard a way too familiar voice say, then the door unlocked, revealing your very disstressed best friend standing in front of you. “why the hell can’t you answer your phone?” he scolded you, however as soon as he took in your state his eyes widened in surprise. “no, no, no, what’s wrong sweetie?” he questioned while moving to cradle you into his arms. you were surely not the prettiest sight; nose dripping from snot, eyes bloodshot, clothes which looked like they hadn’t been changed in days hanging on your body roughly. “seungkwan, be honest.” you croaked out in a hoarse voice, from crying, he assumed. “of course, what’s up?” he asked curiously. “am i that horrible? am i really an ugly whiny bitch?” you started sobbing again, not having the energy to hold it in. he gasped in surprise and wrapped his arms around you even tighter, stroking your back and hair stimultaniously. “oh dear.” he whispered. “is this what you have been crying about here alone?” you nodded into his shirt without saying a word, knowing he felt it. “of course you are not, darling. how could you think that? i seriously don’t know who made you believe these horrible things, but you are none of these, understood?” he waited for your confirming nod that you were still conscious and with him. “please save your tears, you should not be crying about this. it all exists only in your head. you are the most beautiful person the world has ever seen, alright? such a brilliant mind, such a kind and caring soul. please don’t ever think of yourself lowly, you have no idea how much it hurts me when you say those things. you are so precious to me.” he mumbled into your hair, his motions of drawing soothing circles into your back never stopping. he pulled away from you, looking into your eyes. “gosh, you are so beautiful.” he whispered. “no i am not, i am a mess right now.” you replied with sad eyes. “you really don’t see it, do you?” he giggled, catching a tear which ran down your cheek, wiping it away with his thumb. “what?” you were confused. “how much you mean to me. i wish you could see yourself with my eyes, how perfect you are in them.” he mumbled as a blush made its way to his face. “show me.” you muttered in a hushed tone, leaning a little bit closer, distance between the two of you almost not existing. you could hear his heart beating rapidly. “do you know what you’re asking for?” he murmured against your face, voice hitching, eyes staring down at your lips. “this was long overdue, wasn’t it?” you answered. “so you knew.” he smiled. he didn’t expect you to notice how his gaze lingered on your lips for a tad bit too long whenever he looked at you. his lips touched yours quickly, with so much passion it was impossible to miss all the emotions he had been holding in. before you could kiss back he moved to your cheeks and nose, kissing away the tears which were streaming down your face again, but only did he know this time from relief. he placed another kiss to your lips then softly pulled away, eyes flattering open, three words leaving his mouth. “i love you.”

[extrovedteen]

WAIT Y/N! Quick Note: For those of you that saw ‘chapter one’ I decided to just break it down into individual parts all based on NEP’s PUP EP because I’m obsessed and it gives me hardcore Colby vibes so for all of us Colby Brock girls, this ones for us!

Warning: SMUT , FLUFF and everything in between. Enjoy my lovelies, if we like this I may do a Kit Connor one afterwards!

PART 1: FENDER (COLBY BROCK x READER)

“I really like it when you scream, I really like when you do not hurt me, I really like the way I look up at you and somehow you look down on me kindly.”

"You're not meant for that side of YouTube!" your manager yelled at you through the phone.

"It's what I want to do, I'm not interested in-" you started, trying to be heard.

"You're not doing it!" Your manager said sternly, you felt your heart break, as you knew you weren't in control of your own carer and if you wanted to continue this life, you had to stay a lifestyle guru.

You woke up in a hot sweat, a squeal escaping your lips before you fully woke up and understood that it was just a dream, your subconscious coming through.

"Hey guys, what's up! It's Y/N!" You spoke into your camera, you had just bought a brand new Cannon EOS R5. You had been with Cannon since your dad had bought you your very own Cannon EOS 5DS for your 16 birthday, when it all began. "And Happy Vlogmas Day 1!" You grinned from ear to ear, you were now 22 and vlogmas was the only thing you still truly loved about being a lifestyle guru. "Today we're hanging out with Adelaine Morin, we're going to go to the gym, our personal trainer is waiting for us, somehow we're always late." You laughed into the camera, you felt so fake.

Kris: we should have a sleep over tonight!

You had become close friends with Kris and Celina in the last few years of your career, they were the only ones that truly knew what you wanted to do on YouTube and about your gift

Ever since you remembered you had the gift of clairsentience (noun. the ability to perceive emotional or psychic energy that is imperceptible to the five standard senses.) and therefore you wanted to explore with this gift as it was only getting stronger as you were getting older, but your fan base was with you for lifestyle content and not paranormal investigations. You were worried about losing your fan base if you had a change, so you never did.

You had met Kris and Celina at a Tik-Tok event and the three of you had become inseparable ever since, and you loved spending time together however they knew that they had to hide you in their videos so you'd always be there, but nobody would know.

Celina: At Y/N's? I'll bring crumble!

You smiled at your phone, but then frowned as you knew it was vlogmas and that you needed that time to create content, during Vlogmas it was hard to keep up the double life, so you replied with

Y/N: I truly wish I could, but it's Vlogmas :( and I really need the time to create content.

Kris: Oh, yeah I forgot. It's understandable, but we'll really miss you this month.

Celina: you should just tell your fans the truth, I'm sure they'd understand and be really excited for the new content.

You had wished that it would be like that, but you knew otherwise, you had seen one person who was truly successful at a whole new brand change which was Taylor Swift, and you were no Taylor Swift. Instead you were Miley Cyrus, living a double life.

Y/N: guys unfortunately I'm no Taylor Swift... instead I'm a Miley Cyrus...

Kris: YOU GET THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS!! 👩‍🎤

Celina: CHILL IT OUT, TAKE IT SLOW!

Y/N: THEN YOU ROCK OUT THE SHOW!

You chuckled as you replied, no matter how much you truly cherished your friendships with the other lifestyle guru's especially Adelaine you knew you only truly fit in with Kris and Celina, they made you feel welcomed, they made you laugh and you could always be your truest self without being judged.

Y/N: I have to go! I have the gym this morning, but I'll talk to you guys later

You added to the chat and headed off to pick up Adelaine in your yellow Tesla, your dream car. You picked up Adelaine and the two of you went to grab something for breakfast from Starbucks before heading to the GYM.

"I just picked up Adelaine and we grabbed some Starbucks for breakfast, I got the egg bites and an iced matcha." You said, shaking your drink as you took a sip, your Tesla driving for you. "So good!" You grinned, Adelaine then shared what she got as well before you both said "and now we're on our way to the gym!"

Cut to the gym, it was leg day for you and so your PT talked you through that and you captured as much footage as possible before the session was over. After the gym, you and Adelaine went shopping to target to do some Christmas shopping and found something you knew that Kris would die for and so you recorded yourself putting into in the trolley, as a part of your footage for the day when your phone pinged.

Celina: Sam and Colby are coming to mine, we're filming a video on my haunted house.

As soon as you saw the names of the boys you wished you could go, Sam and Colby you had met them a handful of times as you were in their friend groups and would go to the same parties, you still remembered the first time you had never met Colby as clear as day. You glanced at him from across the room only to see him already looking down on you kindly, it made your breath hitch and your heart flutter. He walked over to you, it was an open mic tik-tok event and he was going to sing his song ‘Skin’ you also sang every now and again, but what influencer didn’t really. You knew how to play the bass and so when you noticed him holding his bass, you walked over to him confidently.

‘Nice Bass, It looks really expensive. I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself, holding your hand out. He took your hand and kissed the back of it.

‘Colby.’ He replied before smirking up at you ‘Do you know how to play?’ He asked you.

‘Yeah, a little.’ You replied, feeling cheeky. He took his bass off and placed it over you.

‘Back straight, chest out.’ He instructed, you followed his instructions.

‘You lied bunny, you’re good’ He grinned, his breath on your neck as he stood behind you.

‘I know, I was just messing with you.’ You laughed, feeling the tension in the air of him standing behind you and obviously flirting with you.

‘No, say it.’ He said sternly, he very much had dominate energy and you couldn’t help but blush.

‘Say what?’ You asked, confused.

‘Say that you’re good.’ He continued.

‘Okay, I’m good.’ You admitted, turning around and looking into his eyes trying to make him feel just as intimidated.

‘Good Girl.’ He said looking into your eyes, he definitely wasn’t the littlest bit intimidated and he took his bass back before walking out on stage.

You still remembered everything he ‘taught you that night’ even how surprised he was when you played for him and found out how good you were.

You blushed, thinking about it until Adelaine’s voice bought you out of it. ‘Y/N!’ She spoke loudly before waving her hand in your face. ‘What are you thinking about that’s got your face all red? Wait! Is it a guy? Finally!’ She grinned. ‘WHO? Who is it?’ She asked, excited. She had been waiting for you to get into a relationship since you guys had met seven years ago, you had never had a boyfriend before.

‘Nobody.’ You laughed, your phone pinging again.

‘Is that him?’ She asked, reaching for your phone and you instantly became scared of her seeing who was messaging you so you shoved your phone into your pocket.

‘Don’t.’ You said sternly. She was surprised but that but dropped the conversation not wanting to upset you further.

‘Who is that for anyway?’ She asked you, looking into your trolley. ‘Just a friend from back home’ You lied. You hated lying to your best friend of seven years but your fear was far too strong and you knew you needed to keep the two lives separate, if you ever felt the courage to change your carer she would be the first to know, other then those from that other life.

Kris: Count me in!

You sighed, reading the message that had come through

Y/N: Have fun guys!

was all you could say, knowing your fans were counting on you getting enough footage each day for vlogmas. Instead of counting down to Christmas you were counting down the days until you could finally spend time with your best friends and see the boy that you had a crush on, not a crush- you just thought he was cute- or annoying.

-

Kris: Colby is talking about you!

Celina: He asked where you are AH

Y/N: Guys, he’s probably just used to me being with you guys and helping you paranormal investigate because I have a gift.

Celina: Yeah and because he probably wants to give you a gift ;)

Kris: BOO YEAH! GOOD ONE.

You just laughed at your best friend’s messages, shaking your head as you sighed, stretched and finished editing the thumbnail as you had already sent off the footage to your editor. By the time you were done it was 12:00AM and you knew they could possibly still be filming.

Y/N: I’m finally done! Be proud.

Kris: We’re so proud of you, beautiful. We’re almost done filming, we’re just about to do some rituals to close.

Celina: Get over here RIGHT NOW! Sam and Colby are staying the night.

You read the messages, and although you were tired 5 minutes ago you were wide awake.

Y/N: Lifestyle guru by day, paranormal investigator by night! I’m on my way!

You replied, getting up of the couch grabbing an energy drink out of the fridge and grabbing your car keys as you walked out the door, you got into your Tesla and drove to Celina’s house, your makeup was still done from earlier that day and you were wearing a tight black dress with a cut in the front exposing skin, you paired it with a leather jacket as it was winter and you’d be filming outside but you wanted to show off your brand new dress.

You got there 45 minutes later as Celina lived in a secluded area the time now reading 12:45AM. You took a few seconds to pull yourself together knowing that you truly had a crush on Colby Brock, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

“Ello, Ello!” You called out, walking up to the door as you automatically felt goosebumps and the hairs on your skin prick up.

“Y/N!” Kris ran to the door and twirled you around before putting you back down.

“Come into my lair!” Celina said in her demon voice making you all laugh as per usual, dragging you inside. As soon as you stepped inside your eyes automatically looked for Colby’s as your heart fluttered.

“Hey Sam” You smiled, before looking back at Colby “Colby” you added.

“Bunny.” Colby replied, Sam walking over to you to give you a hug “Long time no see” Sam said with a grin.

“I can’t believe you guys wanted for me, I can’t even be in any of the footage.” You stated, feeling disappointed in yourself.

“We just enjoy your company, plus we always know we’re on the right path when you’re here because of your gift.” Colby said, looking at you with the kindest eyes.

You just smiled and nodded before you turned out of the frame and let them continue their filming, all of you walking towards the outdoor cabin, them filling you in on what you had missed.

“We’re going to play this game, it’s basically a ritual. It’s called the corner game.’ Sam started explaining. ‘So basically the idea of the game is to use all of our energy to summon said thing we want to talk to into the space that we’re here.’ He finished before adding on that the whole point of the night was to try and get rid of Elias. You instantly felt the negative energy and knew that it was Elias. “He doesn’t like that.” You said, Colby standing next to you out of the frame but recording Sam speaking. He instantly looked at you, and could tell that you were feeling uneasy.

“It’s summoning him right?” Colby asked and Sam replied “Summoning him into our space.” You nodded your head before Colby assured all of you that they had a plan and not to worry, you took their word for it and you all started the ritual.

Whilst you all undertook the summoning ritual, you were the last in, after Colby so that it would be easier to edit your voice out.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” You chose your corner and instantly felt Elias’ in the cabin with you, the uneasy feeling following you, you chose your corner and then the ritual went on, the energy just getting worse and worse.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” You said lastly, walking out of the door and closing it behind you, however Colby needing to go back and close the door so you weren’t in the video.

As soon as you were all out, you started to fall over feeling the negative powerful energy consume you, it was a downside of your gift. Colby caught you “You okay, bunny?” He asked you, worried. You sat down and nodded

“He’s definitely here.” You told your friends. Your friends stood up and started to film themselves using the Alice box hearing ‘Here’ come through which only proved your gift further, Colby was so turned on by your gift, he truly thought it was incredible.

You all filmed the last part of the video which was the banishing ritual, and by the end of it you truly didn’t feel his presence anymore, the video was complete and filming wrapped.

“Your gift is incredible” Colby said looking at you, everyone else agreeing.

“The way that you said ‘He’s definitely here’ and then the Alice box said ‘here’ that’s so crazy.” Sam added.

“Thanks guys, well in good news I don’t feel him anymore.” You assured them.

“Thank you.” Celina said thanking everyone. “It’s getting late.” Celina said, looking at her phone as you all walked back into the house, It was now 2AM.

“We should all get the bed, and we’ll hangout tomorrow morning?” Kris asked, everyone agreeing.

“Is there anywhere for me to sleep?” You asked, not really wanting to drive another 45 minutes home.

“Of course! We were thinking maybe You and Colby could share the cabin?” Celina asked, Kris’ eyebrows raising as a small chuckle left her mouth.

“What’s funny?” You asked, obviously knowing what they were implying, everyone could feel the sexual tension between the two of you although you’d both always deny it.

“Nothing.” Kris said, “It’s just probably less scary with you there due to your gift” She said, saving herself.

“Nice save” You laughed.

“I don’t mind, bunny.” Colby said, using that nickname that he knew made you swoon.

“Okay, then neither do I.” You said, daring.

“Well, goodnight.” Kris smiled, giving you a hug and walking inside. Celina and Sam following her inside, after Celina also gave you a hug.

You just looked up at Colby before twirling, showing of your brand new dress. “I guess your stuck with me” You said meeting his eyes that were looking down on you kindly, every time.

“I don’t mind that” He admitted, the two of you walking into the Cabin.

It was now 3:30AM and the two of you still weren’t asleep, you had gotten cold and so he gave you his sweater which was apart of the new XPLR merch, it was the purple ‘busy fighting demons’ sweater, you had been wanting one and now you had one and it smelt like Colby. However it fit you terribly but it was okay because you felt all cute and chic. You hadn’t spoken much to each other, only stealing glances when you’d look up from your phones. You were sleeping head to toe together in bed, and occasionally you could feel his leg touch yours and you weren’t sure if it was on purpose or because of the way you sit in the single bed together.

“I’m starving, I didn’t eat dinner.” You admitted.

“No dinner, bunny?” You asked, again that nickname made your heart flutter, although it was the only thing he called you, it always caught you off guard.

You pouted. “Unfortunately not, I was so busy with my daily footage.” You admitted. “I only had breakfast earlier before the gym.”

“There is a McDonald’s 25 minutes away.” He asked, looking at the maps on his phone. “Come on, my shout” He said and you were too hungry to disagree so you followed him out of the door.

-

25 minutes later you both arrived at the McDonald’s and ordered your food, Colby parked in the parking lot and you both got out and sat in his trunk which had a lot of space in the back. You ate your food and talked about life, just getting to know each other and it was obvious that you both liked each other.

“You have sauce” He said, rubbing his thumb under your lip. You both looked into each other’s eyes “Your eyes are so beautiful.” He admitted, you gulped before the two of you knew it your lips were crashing together as you kissed each other passionately. You bit his bottom lip and giggled. “You’re so beautiful.” He added before you both hid in the trunk, you were pretzeling your legs as you fell back into the trunk, you both had so many tattoos and you couldn’t help but admire his.

You wanted to take things slow, but the sexual tension was so strong that your legs instantly wrapped around his waist, dragging him down on top of you and the two of you started making out again. “Colby” You said, biting his bottom lip again, driving him crazy. “Bunny” he whispered into your ear, as his hands rubbed down your sides “Can I?” He asked, his hand meeting the top of your panties, he was asking for consent to put his hands inside your panties which made you admire him even more, you nodded your head as you nuzzled your head into his neck, biting his neck and leaving little love bites. “You’re driving me crazy” he admitted, but you already knew you were. His hands found your clit through your panties and he started to rub against it, making you wet. You had never been with anyone else so this was your first time, you didn’t want to ruin the moment so you didn’t tell him that.

“What do you want to do?” He asked you, before your hands were also in his pants, rubbing his hard on.

“I want something baby” you replied before whispering “guess” in his ear.

When you assured him that’s what you wanted, he started to undress you, taking off your dress, leaving you in your underwear. His hands making their way inside your panties as his fingers found their way inside, still rubbing your clit. You started to moan softly into his ear.

“Fuck, Bunny you feel so tight.” He spoke dominantly. You instantly knew it was because you were a virgin, you had always dreamed of losing your virginity to your soulmate because you believed in that type of stuff but you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anyone.

Your hands unbuckled his belt and you pulled his pants down, him helping you with this before your hands started to jerk him off. He moved you on top of him, so you were sitting on his face as he fingered you and ate you out moaning while he did so. “You taste so good” He assured you.

You started to suck his cock, jerking him off while your mouth is around him, this making him scream enjoying it so much. He would have never guessed that you were a virgin. Soon your breath was hitched as he started to pump two fingers inside of you, you now understood why everyone enjoyed sex.

You started to experience your first orgasm, feeling his tongue against your clit, rubbing it as fast as he could.

Whilst he did this, you continued to suck him off, licking in between his tip, focusing on the side. “Fuck!” He groaned as you both started cumming together.

You laid down next to him after this, looking up at him. “Good Girl” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. You really like it when he didn’t hurt you.

You started to trace his tattoos, “How many do you have?” You asked him. “11” He told you before the two of you fell asleep in the trunk.

-

Ending Note: AYO that was good, I think? What did you guys think? Next SONG will be PUP!

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 8

tw: mentions of stalking, the boys are a wee bit toxic, ex is a jackass, fatphobic comments, reader is a bit vindictive, suggested kidnapping

Dating four people was exhausting. Especially being the newest addition. They all wanted to spend their apparently endless free time with you and frequently, you found yourself on a date with more than one of them. All because they couldn’t be patient. 

Johnny had actually whined when he found out just how far things had progressed between you and Simon, jealous that he’d been talking to you the longest and not even gotten a kiss. So you spent three days dedicated to spending time with him alone. By the time the two of you left your flat at the end of the third day, you were sore, exhausted, and covered in love bites. Johnny was so pleased with himself, he was practically skipping. 

After that, you took a break from the boys completely as you needed time to recharge and recover. Better believe that when you came back to them, they’d already taught Johnny a lesson in self-control and you were greeted with an apology from him for not playing nice with you. You’d told him you forgave him, even though you hadn’t seen an issue with his insatiable appetite for you. 

They learned patience after that, dedicating specific weekends to a single man for dates and fun while the week was spent casually hanging out. Your stalker only showed when you were alone, which the boys insisted was never. Even if physically you were alone, they knew where you were since Simon had slipped a tracking device into the lining of your purse and they connected your GPS in your phone to their own. But even those trackers couldn’t see when the shape lingered on the roof across from you, studying you. 

A few weeks into your new normal, an invitation arrived in the mail. The paper was pure white, gold writing informing you that you were cordially invited to Kit and Heather’s wedding. You had choked on the fact that you’d received an invitation, feeling like you should be more upset that he was moving on so quickly, but then you remembered the four men that had spent the last few weeks devoting their time and energy to you, adoring you, and making you feel like the most important person in the world to them. 

With a smirk, you shoved the invitation into your purse and headed over to the boys’ flat, forgetting to change from your work clothes. By this point, you had a key and the passcode to get into the building and burst into the flat with a wide grin. “Look at this shit,” you announced, dropping the invitation on the coffee table where the boys leaned over and looked over it. 

“He’s got some balls to be inviting you,” Price grunted, leaning back in his chair as he swirled his whiskey. You walked over to him with a pretty smile and climbed onto his lap, straddling his wide hips. “I want to go,” you stated simply, looking down at the big man below you with the prettiest puppy dog eyes and Price was caving immediately. “Acht, fine. But who’s going with you?” he asked, raising a brow while his hand found it’s way to your hip. “All of you?” you answered timidly, a light blush coloring your cheeks. 

“All of us, petal?” Johnny queried, leaning back on the couch with his legs over Simon’s lap. You looked over your shoulder and nodded, biting your bottom lip. “Why’s that, dove?” Kyle asked from his spot in the other armchair. “Well, I-it’s petty, really. Just wanted to show off how much better I am without him,” you answered, dropping your eyes to your lap as Simon let out a low chuckle. “I’m in. He’s met me without the mask, I’d be glad to show off for you, luv,” he stated, raising his eyebrows at you which only served to darken your blush. 

“Sounds like a plan then. We’ll have to contact Laswell and let her know, so she can avoid sending us out around that time if possible,” Price squeezed your hip as he spoke, taking a swig of his whiskey. You leaned forward and laid on his chest, his arm moving to drag his hand up and down your back. 

The room quieted as the boys resumed their previous activities. Kyle was in the kitchen cooking up dinner while the game played in the living room. Johnny and Simon resumed watching as well, yelling out to Kyle when he needed to come watch a play. Price sipped his whiskey while you napped in his lap, the sounds and scents lulling you to sleep while his massive paw warmed your back. 

New information had plans changing, red strings moved about until a perfect scheme was created. 

Arriving in New York had hit you with a wave of nostalgia and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Your family wasn’t from there, so the only memories you had were with Kit and those memories weren’t ones you were thrilled to revisit. 

The morning of the wedding found you sitting in the bathroom, waves of panic ripping through you. The last time you’d seen Kit was in a courtroom where you’d looked pathetic as you cried over the loss of your marriage and the new couple sneered at you. What if he just invited you to humiliate you again? Just to rub his happiness in your face. 

But wasn’t that what you were doing here? To show him that you had moved on to much bigger and better things? Successfully talking yourself out of the panic attack, you finished getting ready, only stepping out once you felt everything was perfect. 

When you finally did leave the bathroom, four heads turned towards you with different versions of shock and awe painted on their faces. A dark burgundy dress adorned your form, a modern version of a 50’s formal dress that settled off your shoulders, cinching your waist and flaring around your hips to end mid calf with little black kitten heels so your ankles didn’t end up broken. You’d really leaned into the decade's inspiration, enhancing the look with a pearl necklace that sat right at the base of your throat and pretty pearl earrings sat on your ears. 

“Say something!” you gasped out, feeling like their eyes were burning holes through you. Kyle was the first to snap out of it, approaching you with the warmest smile. “You look beautiful, dove. I think I speak for all of us when I say you’re the most gorgeous woman we’ve ever seen,” he reassured you and you heard some small agreements from behind him. 

They were already dressed, each of them sporting simple black suits that had to be tailor made to fit their massive forms properly, wrapping muscles in the dark fabric. Briefly, you wondered if you needed to make an appearance at all, wanting to spend the next few hours undressing them with your teeth. 

When the five of you arrived at the wedding, Kit’s family greeted you with wide eyes. They’d tried to keep you from being all four of them in, but when Simon peered down at your ex-father-in-law, daring him to open his mouth, the five of you were let in without any more fuss. 

Hiding in the back, you watched them marry in silence, having no more tears for your past. Simon and Price watched your face for any sign that you needed a break, but the resolute stillness had them more concerned. Normally a pretty emotional person, the cold look in your eyes made them a little nervous. 

When the happy couple turned towards the crowd, your eyes met Kit’s cold gaze and you smiled, waving at him while surrounded by your men. His gaze shifted from you almost immediately as his new bride started to rally him down the aisle. 

The five of you were the first ones out the door once guests were allowed to leave, finding a quiet spot along the edge of the woods outside. You separated yourself a bit, watching from afar while Kit and Heather were having their photos taken. It reminded you of your own wedding and it made something pinch in your heart. 

“You doing alright, luvie?” Simon’s voice startled you from your preoccupied thoughts, turning to look up at the dark eyes settled over a plain black gaiter. Despite wearing essentially the same suit, each man had customized it in some way. Simon added the black gaiter, only comfortable going without his mask in his or your flat and black leather gloves.

From where you stood, you could see Price’s boonie hat settled on his head where he’d put it when they escaped outside. Johnny had a tartan pocket square that matched his tie, the pattern subtle with the dark palette. Kyle’s suit was pristine, pressed to have a crease down the front of each pant leg and shirt cuffs that adorned silver initial cufflinks. 

“I’m alright. Just reminiscing, I guess. This is a lot more than I got for our wedding. It was small, but I suppose marrying an heiress would warrant this extravagance,” you stated, turning fully away from the scene out on the lawn. “Well, heiress or no, she has nothing on you,” he reassured you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. 

When they finally opened the open air hall for the reception, your group waited until others were in, hoping to sneak in once things got going. Unfortunately, going anywhere with four massive men following you around didn’t work for flying under the radar. So when you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to your group and you flushed, darting for the corner to hide. 

Kit and Heather made their rounds, blissfully ignoring you and the guys until your ex-in-laws insisted it would make them look good if they at least greeted your lot. You were three glasses of champagne in while the boys were stone cold sober so when the couple approached, you gave them a wry smile while your eyes flashed with something dangerous. Even though you’d moved on, you still hated your ex with every fiber of your being. 

“Kit. Heather. Congratulations,” you stated, the tone almost seething despite the edge of civility. Their noses turned up at you, disgust on their faces. “Let me introduce my boyfriends, John, Kyle, Johnny and Simon,” your tone changed as you listed them off, fondness pushing out the anger.

“Requires more than one to handle all of you, huh? Now you really are just-” Kit’s words were cut off by Price’s low growling voice. “I’d watch what you say next. She’s worth more than either of you ever will be.” Kyle had to put his hand on Simon’s chest to keep the man from lunging for Kit’s throat. You knew what he was going to say and surprisingly it didn’t bother you.

“At least they know how to make a woman cum. Obviously, you don’t or your beautiful bride here wouldn’t be fucking David behind your back,” you broadcasted, raising your voice ever so slightly as Heather’s eyes bugged and Kit looked like he was going to kill you. “Not my fault you’re oblivious. I clocked it the second I walked in and saw her making heart eyes at him while you were talking to her parents,” you shrugged and turned to walk away before you felt the familiar feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm. 

“I suggest you take your hands off of me before you find out exactly what my men will do to you,” your voice was low, full of warning. He scoffed and tugged on your arm, a massive mistake. Johnny’s hand shot out to rip his hand from your arm while Kyle removed his hand from Simon’s chest, letting the furious man loose. 

The leathered hand wrapped around Kit’s throat and squeezed, slamming the man against the back wall and subsequently gathering everyone’s attention to the group. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll find out what true nightmares are,” Simon growled, nose to nose with your trash ex. 

You sniffed at the sight, watching Heather screech and plead for Simon to let him go. “Alright, alright. Please, just let me go,” Kit begged and it made a piece of your heart heal, watching Kit get his ass handed to him. Simon huffed, growling at the man before looking over his shoulder, looking for your eyes. You nodded and he dropped Kit, stepping back as you stepped forward. “This is for putting your hands on me,” you stated before reeling back and decking him in the nose. 

Kit crumpled, stumbling over to Heather as he dripped blood on her dress. “I hope you treat her better than you did me, no one deserves what you did.” You made eye contact with Heather before turning on your heel and walking out, the boys following behind. 

No one spoke as your troop traveled back to the hotel, all of them staying close. They hated that the night had turned the way it had, but the man-child had deserved it. They wanted to praise you for the fantastic punch and the way you’d stood up for yourself. But you were withdrawn, mind replaying the moment over and over again.

You disappeared into your room, citing a need to be alone for a little bit. When they came to check on you an hour later, the room was empty. Except for a hundred masks just like Simon’s and pictures of each of the boys with you. 

A single picture of you laid on the bed with a large red x over your face with a word written under. 

Karma. 

Ope.

Thank you to everyone who is supporting this story. I appreciate every single one of you.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hello there!! Thanks for all the advice you’ve given thus far!! It’s been a huge help in my writing journey, though I find that the ONE thing I still struggle with is finding time to work on some of my current writing projects.

I work an 8-5 through the week, and on weeknights and weekends I’m trying to catch up on energy to prepare for the next week ahead. Do you have any tips or suggestions on what I can do to try and sneak some writing in? Thanks in advance!

Tips for Sneaking Writing Into a Busy Schedule

#1 - Figure Out Your "Three B's" - If you're struggling to fit writing into a busy schedule, the first thing you should do is figure out your "three B's"... the bare minimum, better, and best amount of time you can commit to writing each day. The bare minimum amount of time should be a ridiculously low number, ten minutes or less, that you can manage even on the busiest of busy days. The better amount should be the most reasonable amount of time... a balance between a logical amount of productivity and the reality of your schedule. If you have a lot of busy days, this should probably be somewhere between fifteen minutes and an hour. And finally, the best amount is kind of the "pie in the sky" number... the reasonable amount of time you'd commit to writing if you had a day off and not a lot to do. The goal here is to aim for that middle number most days, but on long days when you have no energy leftover for writing, you've still got to hit that bare minimum. You don't even have to actually write during this "writing time." You can re-read a scene or chapter, edit, revise, brainstorm, research, look at inspiration photos, read a craft book... anything that moves the needle on your WIP in some way.

#2 - De-Stress Writing - Our brains are wired to avoid things that cause us stress, and stressful things also take a lot of energy to deal with. So, if you get even a little stressed thinking about your WIP or writing in general, you're gonna have a harder time committing to that bare minimum, better, or best writing time. The best thing you can do to de-stress writing for yourself is to stop giving yourself a hard time for not writing, not reaching goals, not completing tasks, etc. Give yourself grace, tell yourself it's okay, you'll hit that bare minimum tomorrow. Other things you can do: set up a reward system for yourself for when you hit small but important goals, eat or drink a favorite treat while you write, burn a scented candle, or listen to some soft music.

#3 - Create a Writing Ritual - Sometimes it helps to take a few minutes to switch your brain into "writing mode." This can be any number of little things that tells your brain "it's time to write now." It can be putting your phone on silent, sitting in a particular spot, lighting a scented candle, repeating a mantra, doing some stretches or meditating, listening to a certain song or putting on a particular type of soft music, or even a particular treat or beverage. When you choose a few things like this to do every time you sit down to write, and only when you sit down to write, your brain will start to associate those things with writing which helps it slip into "writing mode."

#4 - Eliminate Distractions - This one is really important when you have limited time... When you sit down for your writing time, put your phone on silent or set up "do not disturb" so that only really important calls/texts will come in. Avoid radio stations or music with lyrics if the talk is going to distract you. Use an internet blocking app if you can't trust yourself to fall down Google rabbit holes. Let people know you're going to be writing during that time and ask them not to disturb you. Anything you can do to eliminate distractions will help.

#5 - Boost Your Energy - No matter how busy you are, most of us have time in our schedule to commit to writing, even if that means getting up fifteen minutes early. However, if we feel tired and lack the energy to write, it can be very easy to pretend that fifteen minutes isn't available or that we need every last minute of sleep we can get. In that case, try doing a little energy booster before your writing time. This might be having a cup of coffee or a high energy breakfast smoothie, it could be taking a cold shower or listening to an energetic favorite son. If you can move your body for a few minutes, that helps, too. Walking, running in place, or jumping jacks are great if you're able to do them. If not, energetically moving any part of your body can give you a little energy boost... enough to get you through that bare minimum writing time.

I hope that helps! ♥

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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