#as the one show that has been the first and last in a long while to not disappoint me it's somewhat hard to let it go yk

[quietstormxr]

Priority

Garrick Tavis x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: You thought you were Garrick's world, until Xaden ordered Violet's protection and that always seemed to take priority.

A/N: Mentions of torture, violence, spoilers for FW, small OS spoiler, angst

Word Count: 9k

Waking up to the bitter scent of healing herbs and the blinding white of the infirmary is not what you expected when you had gone to bed three days ago.  Eyes adjusting to the lighting, you took stock of your limbs and tested each and every one. Curling your fingers and toes, rolling your wrists and ankles, moving your head from side to side, but when you went to pick up your legs, the phantom pain came rushing back in fast and sharp. 

A moan escaped your lips unbidden as you tried to push down the reminder of the two lieutenants who had used you as their personal punching bag. This wasn’t the first time you’d been interrogated for RSC, but it was definitely the worst. And you knew there was something more to it than just RSC because you had been on your own. For three days, you were held captive, beaten, bruised, and broken all for what, you didn’t know. Or at least you think it was three days, but pain and mending seem to blend together when you have nothing else to focus on.

Finally opening your eyes fully, you look to the end of the bed and expect to see a familiar pair of hazel eyes staring back at you. Instead, you are met with an empty chair. 

Brows furrowing, you slowly hoist yourself to a sitting position to take a better look at the room around you. It is there and then that your heart absolutely shatters. Reality of everything slamming into you in a way that you never thought possible.

There’s no mistaking that no one had been in to see you. The area usually meant for visitors still as pristine as usual and no furniture out of place. But before you let yourself spiral, you make a promise to wait to confirm with the healers themselves. 

As if answering your silent call, a light blue uniform peaks around the door and comes toward you. 

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake my dear.” A comforting smile breaks across the older woman’s face causing you to give her one in return. 

“Just need to check over a few things with you and then you can be on your way.” She continues her tone sweet, but actions clinical.

Before you can decide the better of it, the words have left your mouth. “Can I ask if anyone has come to see me while I’ve been in here?”

Sadness creeps into her eyes and the look confirms your suspicion before she even speaks. You give a slight shake of your head and tilt it up to try and stop the tears that are beginning to threaten. Pools of water coat every inch of your eyelids, but you refuse to close them and let a single tear fall. Not now at least. You only let your fragile heart break into pieces and know there isn’t enough glue in the world to possibly put it back together anymore.

Before long the healer has given you a few pain tonics and confirmed you can head back to your room. You take the bag and throw your torn and bloodied flight jacket over your arm and head back towards the riders quadrant hoping you can avoid everyone. 

Zinhal however decides that isn’t to be your luck. As you turn onto the landing for the second-year floor, the last person you wanted to see is standing right in front of you. A smile on his face has his dimple popping as he looks at you after pausing his conversation with Bodhi. 

Emotions swirl and you’re unsure if you want to punch him in the face or rip out his heart, just like he just did to yours. The hurt settling into your heart and dragging it to the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight.

Taking a deep breath as every piece of your shattered heart jostles against your chest, you look straight forward showing no emotion and head straight to your door. 

Before you can make it all the way to your room, the mountain of muscle that usually had your heart racing stands in front of you. Your eyes slowly rise and look back at the man who was your entire world. The dimpled smile still plastered on his face, he steps forward to take your hand and you immediately step back and avert your gaze.

“Hey.” He has the audacity to put his hand under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

At those words you let out a sardonic scoff. Clearly the cretin in front of you has no idea what he just said and everything you just experienced.

“Where have you been over the last few days?” Your voice is dry and void of emotion, but you still need the answer. 

He looks at you and furrows his brows before responding. “You know I was helping Xaden with the blades and saddle for Sorrengail. I’ve been in the forge with him.”

“Ah.” It’s the only thing you have to say to the man in front of you. Pulling your face from his hand, you sidestep him and begin walking to your room. 

Without turning around, you call out to make sure he won’t follow you. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed early. I’ll see you later.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you shut your door behind you and lock it. Without hesitation, you pull out your book on wards and immediately start reweaving the ones you have. You pull every ounce of control you have left to change your wards to only allow yourself through your door. There is no doubt in your mind that Garrick will have a shock when he tries to come in, but at this point, you don’t care. Bitterness settles into your heart crawling like vines between your ribs with deep roots weaving between every bone.

Setting the last piece of power in place, you let yourself break. Sliding to your knees, every possible sound is drowned out by the sounds of your sobs.  You let your head hit the floor as you break apart. Your body unable to even hold itself up. Tears streaming in a torrent down your face and your breathing turning rapid and irregular. You try, but it’s impossible to control the shaking of your body with the violent sobs racking your heart.

It isn’t until you wake the next morning that you realized you never even made it to your bed and sobbed on the floor until the exhaustion tore you apart. Rising, you go to the mirror and look back at the girl staring at you in the reflection.

The eyes that greet you are puffy and bloodshot, but there is a vacant look where there used to be a spark of life. There is no brightness to the color of your skin, every ounce of sunlight seemingly bleached from your complexion. Purple bruises look as if they are indented under your eyes. The color of your irises once so vivid now muted and dull, empty and haunted. 

Closing them, you breathe in the heartbreak that has filled every pore of your skin. The breath feeling like its traveling through the broken glass of your lungs, sharp and unrelentingly painful. You know there is no way you can show the devastation you’re feeling, not in this quadrant, and not to all the people who told you that you were just another conquest. With a heaving sigh, you head to the bathing chamber and pray to the gods that you can wash away the grief as best you can and put on the face of a warrior. 

Though as the water begins to heat your cold skin, you feel the warm tide of anger rise with it. A fury buried deep beneath your heart begins to consume everything. Thoughts you had buried for so long burrowing deep in your very core. You finish dressing and immediately make your way back to your room and dress for the day, every movement sharp and harried. 

Putting on your tight-fitting training leathers, you tie your hair up close to your head and pin it in place. There’s no mistaking the blaze that has taken over your eyes a vibrant fire dancing in the previously muted color, dismissing the vacant look from before. Without waiting any longer, you tear your door open and begin the slog to the training room.

Your footsteps are heavy, thudding loudly against the stone floor as you march yourself towards the nearest punching bag. Each step is another strike of anger taking a bite out of your already tattered heart. The fire of your anger laid thick into the stones of the fortress.

“Feisty and wallowing today, are we?” The snarky question comes from the last female you wanted to see. 

You don’t give her the satisfaction of a response as you continue pushing past her down the corridor. At least you didn’t think you would, until you find yourself turning around and looking at her with Bodhi now next to her.

“He’s all yours Cardulo. I’m done with all of you.” Your voice drips venom, though if either one of them knew you well enough, they would hear the betrayal and sadness seeping through every syllable. 

Not taking another second to register what she could possibly reply, you immediately keep walking. Making your way into the gym, you quickly take up a spot at the nearest punching bag. Not bothering with wraps, you swing with every ounce of emotion you can possibly displace. White hot pain splits up your knuckles, but you relish in it as it replaces the agony tied around your heart.

Unsure of how long you’ve stood there delivering punches to the bag with all the force you can muster, you are startled when a large shadow appears behind you.

“What did that punching bag do to you?” There’s no mistaking the tease in his voice and it only fuels the fire within you.

“Fuck off, Tavis.” You spit to the man that is hovering over your shoulder. 

As you go to throw another wild punch, your eyes fly up when your fist is intercepted by the aggravating man’s large hand. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Garrick questions and his audacity to ask has you pulling back you hand as quickly as you can. 

“It’s none of your business. In fact, I’m no longer your business. Why don’t you go back to protecting your duke and precious charge and leave me the hell alone.” The rancor in your tone is obvious as you immediately twist away and head to the door. 

Before you can push it open, a gust of wind pushes you against the wall, taking the breath from your lungs. Looking up, hazel eyes are staring down at you mixed between disbelief and anger.

“You aren’t just going to say that and walk away. Tell me what the fuck is going on.” You can’t help the sarcastic laugh that falls from your lips.

“No.” Every bit of defiance is burning in your limbs, and you refuse to say anything more to the man who can’t seem to spare a minute of his day for you. Garrick stands there his eyes searching yours, though you know there is nothing but anger and emptiness behind your gaze. Your lungs begin burning as the fury rushes through your body.

His hand comes up to your face as if he wants to comfort you and you instantly slap it away. Garrick’s eyes flare at the action and you feel a slight satisfaction in the way the gold in his eyes seems to turn to worry. There isn’t any reason to worry though, not anymore, you think to yourself as you boldly stare back at him. 

“What happened?” Garrick’s tone has softened as he’s realized that there’s more to your actions than just simple aggravation. 

“If you have to ask, then you aren’t paying attention.” You snap; your tone refuses to soften after how many times this man has left you wondering your importance.

“Please tell me. I can’t fix anything if I don’t know where I went wrong.” The pleading in his voice tries to crack through the hurt that’s been living in your mind for months, but it just isn’t enough anymore.

“At this point, there isn’t anything to fix. You have your priorities and I’m not one of them. So, think of this as a boon. You now have more time to focus on your more important duties, Section Leader.” The sharpness of your voice cuts like a blade as you lay the final strike to your relationship. 

You watch as his gaze cracks, the hard exterior he always wears fractures and shows you the broken man he is becoming at your words. Part of your heart wants to reach out and comfort him, but the harder part of you, tired of being left behind wins. 

Taking advantage of his shock at your words, you quickly leave the gym, leaving the man that you used to think was your everything behind. The future that you had deigned to let run through your mind nothing but tattered shreds of a painting that was never allowed to form.

A few days later, you open your door, and your breath catches as you see Garrick’s frame standing outside, hands braced on either side of the threshold and a wild look behind his eyes. 

“What do you want Tavis?” Your impatience is on full display as you take in the mussed look of the man in front of you, the complete reverse of his usual calm and poised demeanor. His curls are wilder than normal, showing how many times he’s run his hands through them and there is no mistaking the pallor of his skin and sunken state of his eyes. 

“Why can’t I get into your room anymore?” He breathes as if it is the most urgent question he has. 

“Simple.” You reply, your tone remaining cool and detached. “We aren’t together any longer, so there is no need for you to have access to my room.”

His hand moves to reach for you, but he immediately recoils at the wards that encase your door.

“Let me in, please.” The pleading in his voice and eyes would’ve cracked your resolve once, but now it just steels your heart. Though it’s impossible to completely dismiss the sweep of your stomach.

“No. You lost that privilege.” You refuse to let him claw his way back in, tired of always feeling second best. “Why don’t you go crawl back to Xaden, maybe he’ll let you in with him and Violet, because I’m done.”

As if caught off guard, he backs up a step leaving enough room for you to stride out and begin down the corridor.  

“Wait.” His hand wraps around your wrist as you finally make your way out to the courtyard. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You scoff at his question but turn around and look him in the eyes with every ounce of disappointment you’ve ever felt. 

“Did you know I was in the infirmary a week ago?” You watch as his eyes blow wide at the revelation, but all it does is fuel your rage.

“Precisely. Do you know why I was there? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t even know I was there so why would you know the reason?” You continue as you stalk towards the man. Even though he towers over you, the shadow of your bitterness is taller than any height he has on you.

“Are you alright?” He has the audacity to blurt as he looks your body up and down looking for injuries. The laugh that barrels out of you is nothing but cynical.

"Obviously.” You sneer. “No thanks to the man that supposedly loves me.” You don’t miss the way he flinches at your words.

Another sarcastic huff leaves you as you continue. “I was tortured by two lieutenants – alone - for three days, and in the infirmary for an entire day after that. But did the man that claims I’m his whole world show up?”

“No!” The roar that leaves you is louder than you expected, but your anger has exploded, and you can no longer keep it contained. Continuing to stalk into his space, you jab your finger into his hard chest.

“And I can see by the look on your face you didn’t even know.” Your bitterness is on full display now. “I always knew your allegiance was to Riorson and now by extension, Sorrengail. But I never thought it would be at the cost of even knowing I was fucking missing.”

“So, yes, this is the end of our road Garrick. Feel free to sow your fucking oats with anyone in the stables of Basgiath. I’m done. Finished. I refuse to be put last in the list of priorities for the man who claims that I’m his whole world.”

“I didn’t know.” The words leave his lips in the barest whisper as his stunned silence continues. 

“How would you when you’re constantly following Xaden like his loyal pet? And now Violet. Sure, every single marked one has her on their radar, but at what fucking cost? When do any of you get to have your own lives?” The control on your words has completely left you as you continue to barrage the man in front of you with every ounce of bitterness in your heart. “I understand you owe him everything, but is it at the expense of having a life yourself? At what point do you get to make someone else your world? When do you get to live for yourself?”

You’ve never seen the man in front of you speechless, but it seems like you have rendered his tongue from his mouth at his continued silence. You shake your head as you begin to step back from him. 

“Maybe this will help you in the long run, but no one is going to stay when they constantly must play second fiddle, even though a man claims you’re everything to him. Perhaps in another life we could’ve been happy, but I’m tired of always being your last priority.”

With that you let your feet carry you away from the man that you thought was your forever. You head to the flight field and only hope that you can outfly your own emotions. 

Weeks pass and you don’t miss the glances that Garrick is always throwing your way. You have done your best to put distance between the both of you and being in a different wing, it works, for the most part. Every time your name is called to the mat, you don’t miss the way Garrick steps up and watches your every move. 

In one particularly brutal match, you don’t miss the way that he goes to step in when you take a brutal punch to face. With blood spilling from a cut to your cheekbone, you turn away and stand on the other side of the mat an empty look on your face. 

Trying to get in and out of battle brief without getting trapped by him becomes almost impossible. It’s as if he has become a sentinel at the door and refuses to move until you go in and out. On one particular day, the short fuse on your temper has been tested all day and it takes every ounce of control you possess not to rip into him as you try to get into the class. The minute it’s over, you are the first one out the door before Garrick can even blink. 

The rawness of the day has taken every ounce of your control, so you find yourself walking out to the river in a bid to find a least a little slice of solace in this tumult of a life you’ve found yourself in. Sitting in the tall grass near the bank of the Iakabos, your head falls back on one of the stones and your eyes close relishing in the warmth of the sun on your face.

You let your mind wander as you try to let the warm glow of the setting sun and calming flow of the water become the only sounds and feelings left.

Unfortunately, it’s short-lived when you hear heavy footfalls behind you. Turning, your senses rise when you can’t see anyone behind you, but there is no mistaking the way the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand at attention. 

“I know you’re there.” You call out to the copse of trees behind you, heartbeat erratic at what you aren’t sure is a threat or not.

In the next few seconds, your fear turns into annoyance as you register the person who has broken your solitude. 

“I’m not interested in company, Durran. Least of all from any of Garrick’s loyalists.” You snap in irritation, turning back to face the river.

Bodhi continues his trek undeterred by your words, if the sounds of his footfalls are any indication. Aggravation begins to peak as Bodhi stops next to you and joins you to sit on the forest floor. You let out a heavy sigh, laden with annoyance before turning your head to look at the man sitting next to you.

Silence stretches as you turn your head back towards the river and watch as the sun makes its final arc before setting.

“Why are you here?” There’s no way to hide the exasperation in your voice, tired of feeling like the one that always has to back down from your own anger. 

Bodhi slowly turns his face to you, as if he’s just registering your presence for the first time. But it’s the sad smile on his lips that has your own expression faltering. 

“I think you know why I’m here.” Bodhi finally pipes up, though his voice is subdued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrick fall apart like this.”

His tone does nothing to quell the nerves that have seemed to bundle in your stomach, though you narrow your eyes in suspicion. 

“Garrick is a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. He just needs to find an open bed and he’ll be right as rain.” Your anger flaring at the possibility of this conversation.

Bodhi hums in acknowledgement of what you’ve said, though his entire posture remains in an unusual state of sadness.

“You’ve inserted yourself into a family of sorts, you know.” He continues, now glancing out towards the river, his composure turned thoughtful. “After the apostasy, we became brothers. The group of us clinging to each other to hold on to a sense of normalcy.”

“Though, Xaden took most of the burden. Which in turn, I suppose you could say, made him our de facto leader, not that he wasn’t before that.” Bodhi’s head falls slightly and begins to shake. “We’ve always let him deliver the orders. Let Xaden command us – but something you said to Garrick must’ve hit him hard.”

“He came to me the day after he tried to get into your room and failed.” He continues matter-of-factly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrick so worked up. Sure, he teases and ruffles people’s feathers, but I don’t think he’s ever had someone put him in his place so well. Never had someone to put things into perspective.”

You turn and look at Bodhi again, contemplation taking over your own features. “I like to think I’ve been patient. That I’ve been understanding, because I know about everything that has happened to your families. But I refuse to be the last priority for someone that claims to love me.”

At this point Bodhi turns and looks at you, the sad smile gracing his features again. “I know. And so does Garrick. You see the issue is not that you’re wrong. Because gods, even Garrick knows that you’re more than right. It’s really that this is the first time any one of us in Xaden’s circle has ever had to confront it.”

A dry chuckle leaves his lips. “I’m sure you’re aware that Xaden’s close circle isn’t known for their stellar relationship skills.”

You can’t help the sardonic huff that leaves you at the comment. 

“So that means you’ll also realize that you were the first one to push through the ranks and become the first outsider in our mismatched family.” Bodhi leans in and gives you a knock into your shoulder. “The first one to really stay that is.”

“I’m not sure your fearless leader would agree with that.” You murmur with a raised brow.

Bodhi’s nose scrunches, trying not to show feelings about his cousin. “He’s not exactly the person you should gauge that from.”

You scoff again and Bodhi gives you a knowing smile of his own. 

“But before you, there wasn’t anyone that any of us needed to prioritize outside of our own circle. Hell, most of the time we don’t even prioritize our own selves if there is something that Xaden demands.” You hum in acknowledgment knowing that you’ve seen that yourself.

“And you know Garrick, loyal to a fault. If someone asks, he’s there, possibly eating you out of house and home, but always there.” You both snicker at the mention of Garrick’s insatiable appetite. 

“Knowing that, you should know how torn up he is. Not only did he fail to know you were missing and hurt, but he let you fall through the cracks. Honestly – he’s probably pacing in his room right now beating himself over all the cracks that he created himself.” Bodhi continues, your chin drops to your upturned knees, and you let yourself rest on them. 

“I needed more than words.” You murmur quietly, tired of holding back everything. “I wanted him to show up for me. To show that I wasn’t last on his list for the day.”

“You’re right.” Bodhi agrees as he begins to stand. “It’s up to you if you are willing to listen to him or give him a chance at all to explain. But I wanted you to know that prioritization of our partners is something we will all need to learn, maybe even the hard way of losing the one we love. Though at the end of the day, we’re going to war, and no one knows if they are going to come home the next day – even Xaden needs to realize that.”

“And yes, Xaden is important to a lot of us, and we love him and the Sorrengail situation has added complications on top of everything. However, we can’t continue to exist on only protecting him and his interests over every relationship in our own lives.” Bodhi reaches his hand out and you bring yours up, allowing him to pull you to your feet as well. “If we stand any chance at happiness, we need to stand our ground for our own partners too.”

“So even if you never reconcile with Garrick, thank you. Thank you for saying what needed to be said, for vocalizing something we all need to realize.” With that Bodhi begins to walk back to the citadel. 

You begin to follow after him, but let yourself linger, taking the time to try and absorb every single word. 

‘Perhaps the cousin should be the leader. He seems to understand you humans better.’ You let out a snort at Stòlda’s comment.

‘Bodhi does seem to have a level head on his shoulders. At least he seems to realize that people have feelings.’ You comment though not really focusing on the conversation with your dragon.

As you get closer and closer to the citadel, you can’t help but feel the loom of the fortress settle in your bones. As tired as you have been since your latest torture session, you haven’t been sleeping well, phantom pains and hands keeping your mind running at night. 

Arriving at the second-year floor, you take a heaving breath, the tiredness of the day beginning to settle into your bones. For some reason though your feet begin to feel even more sluggish than before, every step taking an immense amount of concentration and physical strength.

‘Something isn’t right.’ You send down your bond with Stòlda, but everything about your connenction with her seems fuzzy. 

Before you can take one more step your world goes black and muffled voices ring through your mind, but you can’t make out a single one. 

__________

Waking up to an uncomfortable pull between your shoulders, you try to bring your arms forward but as you tug, the rough pinch of rope jerks at the skin of your wrist. Letting out a hiss of pain, you open your eyes and all you find is a room of roughhewn stone in front of you. 

Scanning the room, the only light emanating in is from a small window that is halfway to the only door. Confusion is the only thing that registers, aside from the pain between your shoulders and the rub of the rope on your skin. 

Distant sounds of roars and the clash of metal has your head spinning, eyes darting left and right, though there is nothing for you to see being strapped to the chair you are in. Suddenly you register the loud pound of boots outside the door and your eyes focus, waiting for whatever danger is lurking.

A reverberating kick to the door has it splintering and you close your eyes to the onslaught of wooden shards.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” An all too familiar and cruel voice drawls from in front of you. 

Drawing your gaze forward, there’s no way to hide your sneer of disgust. Your head rises as the menacing figure drawing forward, but you don’t back down from holding your head proudly.

“I never thought we’d have the marked one’s whore for a target.” The masculine voice continues to sneer as he comes face to face with you. There’s no mistaking the disdainful visage in front of you, not since you’ve spent more than enough time trying to rid yourself of him. 

Kol. Second Wing’s resident menace that has caused more than his fair share of deaths in the quadrant. A bully who came to the quadrant for gore and power, not the ability to help anyone.

“I never thought I’d be subjected to your disgusting face, but here we are.” The words barely leave your mouth before the burning sting of a hand bursts across your face, head thrown to the side from the impact.

The coppery tang of blood coats your tongue and you gather everything you can and spit it directly in his face. His eyes flash and you pull on your restraints again trying to stop him as you register his fist coming up to punch you in the face. Unfortunately, the bindings have no give and the only thing you can do is take the blow. A strike of pain, hot as a branding iron flashes over your eye socket causing a moan to escape as your vision begins to blur.

“Not so tough now when your personal guard isn’t around, are you?” Kol mocks as he begins circling the chair you’re tethered in. 

Even with your right eye swelling fully shut, you stare at him through blurry vision not willing to back down.

“Must be tougher than you since you had to wait until I was tied up to attack.” You taunt, though clearly that was the opposite of what you should have done. 

Rage burning in his eyes, Kol unsheathes the dagger at his waist, and you rear back as he drags the tip down your arm. A muffled cry climbs your throat, but you refuse to open your mouth and let the sounds become any louder. 

“I’m going to have a wonderful time breaking you, inch by inch. You’ll be begging me to stop before I’m finished with you.” Your eyes flash at Kol’s sadistic words, but you refuse to back down and succumb to his incessant taunts.

Concerning quiet has suddenly settled over the room you’re in and it brings Kol’s focus back to the door he had come through. Brows furrowing, you try to place if you did hear another pair of boots or if it was just the ringing in your ears. 

“Now where were we?” Kol jeers as he slowly draws the dagger across your face. “Ah, yes, I believe we were just about to get started.” The vicious gleam in his eye has your fear ratcheting, but you refuse to let it show. 

“And I believe you’re about to die.” The voice breaks through the quiet so low and menacing you feel like you may have dreamt it. 

Turning your head from Kol, you squint with your good eye trying to make out the figure in the doorway, but all you can register is the man’s tall frame. 

The sinister smirk that graces Kol’s face makes you realize it could only possibly be one person.

Garrick strides forward and the glint of sunlight catches on his sword as he holds it out in front of him. You try to get a clearer picture, but no matter what you try, your vision remains blurred. A jolt of panic rises through you as the familiar clink of blades meeting makes your pulse begin to race. 

Here you are, tied to a chair with no access to your power or dragon, so you’ll be absolutely nothing but a liability. 

“No, Garrick! Just go. You don’t need to worry about me any longer.” A male grunt registers, but the clash of steel still sings through the air. 

There’s no response from either man as you hear the continued grunts of a fight and clang of metal. Though your worry grows when you hear a groan of pain and the unmistakable tear of flesh. 

“Garrick!” You heave, trying to control the panic rising, continuing to pull on your restraints. “Are you alright?”

Another grunt is heard before the decisive thump of a body hitting the floor is heard. Your heart beating erratically and your breathing shallow, you continue to pull on your restraints even through the burning pain that has rubbed your skin raw.

Booted footsteps sound and your shallow breathing continues as you can only pray that Garrick is the one approaching you and not Kol. A slight whimper leaves your lips as familiar fingers trace your jawline and come to rest on your chin. 

Without removing his hand, your wrists are freed and your shoulders sag at the sudden relief. Before you can take stock of the rest of your body, you feel yourself being picked up and cradled into a strong chest. 

“You don’t have to carry me. I can take care of myself.” You retort, but there’s no bite to the words. They fall short of their aimed target.

“I am more-than-aware that you can take care of yourself.” Garrick replies with a softness in his voice you’ve never heard before. “But no matter where we stand, I will always want to take care of you. Even if my previous actions may contradict that statement.”

You don’t reply to his words, unsure in the moment of what to say, so you let you let your words drift to safer ground.

“How did you know I was here? How did you find me?” The words come out quieter than you expected.

Garrick takes a considering pause before replying, a soft huff leaving his lips. “If you think after the last month that I don’t know where you are at every moment of every day, you’re fooling yourself.”

A sardonic scoff leaves your mouth at this words, but you won’t deny that the conviction in his tone doesn’t have you intrigued. 

“Seems silly to keep tabs on someone that you aren’t with any longer.” Your lips thin as the words slip out before you can stop them.

Your body slightly jostles as Garrick comes to a stop. “I know you may not believe me. Honestly, after everything, I wouldn’t expect you to, but you haven’t stopped being the singular most important person in my life.”

You try to focus on Garrick’s face as he keeps speaking, but your vision still refuses to clear. “This isn’t the time to have the whole conversation that I want to have with you. But I need you to know that if you will let me prove to you that you are my priority, I will not let you regret it.”

Without waiting for your reply, Garrick begins walking again and soon the warmth of the sun greets you. The swift kick of the wind licks at your face, as well as the sounds of wing beats. It’s the sudden realization of everything going on around you that causes you to gasp.

“I can’t feel Stòlda.” You murmur to Garrick, unsure of if anyone else is around. 

“What do you mean you can’t feel her?” Garrick questions with clear worry in his voice.

“Exactly that. I woke up tied to that chair and unable to feel our bond.” Garrick’s grip tightens on you as you hear the distinct sound of wings getting closer and closer.

“Let’s get you to the healers as soon as possible and I’ll find out what’s going on.” Garrick confirms, clearly beginning to mount Chradh.

“Are you sure Chradh is alright with you carrying me?” You can’t help but question, trying to pull out of his grip.

“Of course he is. He knows how much you mean to me. And besides, Stòlda ordered him to bring you to safety.” As he finishes, Garrick carefully plants you in the seat on Chradh’s back in front of him. 

Wrapping his arms tightly around you, he grips the pommel in front of you, not letting you jostle in any way. You close your eyes at the onslaught of the wind against your battered face, turning your head as far into Garrick’s shoulder as you possibly can to conceal yourself, to push away the sharp sting of the wind. You try not to breathe in the familiar scent of the man that has you wrapped in his arms, but its impossible to ignore the scent of leather, steel, and something distinctly him, a comforting presence that you loathe to have to give up again. Involuntarily, you take a deep breath, inhaling him and the strength that he radiates, every inch of him a balm to your frayed nerves. 

Even though every movement he makes is completely controlled, there is no way to mistake the rapid heartbeat thumping through your ears. You don’t let yourself get wrapped up in the thought, because its most likely just from the adrenaline from the fight. Soon enough, you feel the pull of Chradh’s wings as he begins to slow and land. 

Garrick unwraps his arms and you go to begin to lever yourself off of Chradh, but before you move two steps, you feel the way the brown dragon begins to shift even further to the ground. Unsure whether to move or not, you stand still until Garrick’s caloused hand is gently guiding your arm down. 

Vision still blurry, its impossible to truly make sense of the people standing around you, but the next voice you hear is unmistakeable. 

“Tavis, take the egg. I need to check on Sorrengail.” Xaden’s voice booms over the chaos that is breaking out around you, his strides towards Garrick carrying a weight that you never miss.

“No.” Garrick’s voice carries an edge of steel, firm and unyeilding, something that you’ve never heard before, especially not directed at Xaden, his best friend and superior officer. “Get Graves or Scharf to deal with it.”

There’s no missing the look of venom Xaden sends Garrick’s way, even with your terrible vision. “I said take the egg, that’s an order from your Wingleader.” Xaden’s voice hardens, an edge that dares Garrick to defy him. The air between them turns charged, the tension building like a storm cloud.

Not wanting Garrick to be punished or let this get out of hand, you start to maneuver your legs out of Garrick’s hold, but instead of letting you down, he only holds tighter.

“Stay right where you are.” Garrick directs at you, tone gentle, though his focus never leaves the glaring Wingleader. 

“She’s more important than that damn egg.” Garrick continues, his tone never losing the steel, the tone of immovablility. “And this time my priorities will be clear. Sorrengail is your responsibility, as Y/N is mine. I’ve come to heel regarding Sorrengail too many times at her expense. I won’t do it anymore.”

Without waiting on Xaden’s response, Garrick’s steps continue towards the fortress, controlled and measured. Each click of his boots a smattering of both pressure and relief.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Garrick. I can get someone else to take me to the healers.” Your tone is quiet, tired, beaten down. The adrenaline and energy from the battle beginning to drain from your body. 

Looking up to Garrick’s face, you can see the muscle in his jaw feather as his footsteps begin to slow. Your arms drop from around his neck as you try to move away from him, but before you even have an inch between you, Garrick’s grip tightens again. His hands keeping you firmly tethered to his side, his eyes coming down to stare into your own.

“You aren’t getting anyone else to take you. You aren’t leaving my side. And I don’t give a fucking shit if Xaden never talks to me again.” His feet begin moving again and before you have the chance to reply, the familiar scent of the Healer’s Ward comes floating through the air. 

Garrick walks confidently to the nearest open cot, before he steps away to beckon the nearest healer. 

“Oh my dear.” A sweet female voice floats through the air. “I didn’t expect to see you in here again so soon. Though I’m glad there’s someone with you this time.”

You give her the semblence of a tired smile, but there’s no warmth there. Nothing happy fills you as you wait to hear the retreating footsteps of Garrick’s boots. 

She stands in front of you checking you from head to toe, taking time to put a salve on your swollen eye. “I’m going to get Nolon and see if he can assist with taking away some of the inflamation so you can at least see out of one eye.”

“Before you leave, can you also ask if there’s something that was given to me before war games?” Your tone comes out pleading, the silence in your mind between you and your dragon weighing on you. “For some reason I’m unsure of, my bond is gone. Or it feels like it has been severed somehow.”

The healer looks back at you, a look that says she knows exactly what you speak of and that she doesn’t agree with it one bit.

“I’ll get everything you need while I find Nolon. We’ll get some of your vision back in order and you’ll have your dragon back in no time.” She says with a confidence you don’t feel.

Shaking your head in acknowledgment, you let your head fall back to the pillow behind you, eyes closed to keep away the blur of your vision. Taking a deep breath, you try to keep the emotions roiling inside at bay. There’s no reason to cry, or to rage, you know that it won’t fix anything in your failed relationship. 

The quiet of the ward greets your ears and you try to breathe through the hazy thoughts of the day, but warmth gliding over your hand has your eyes popping open. 

Mouth widening slightly, you look up to see the blurry figure of Garrick standing over you, his fingers intertwined with yours, stroking the back of your knuckles. 

“You – you can go.” You confirm, your voice small, even to your own ears. “I’m sure you have more important things to tend to.”

The stroking on your knuckles comes to a quick halt and you close your eyes, not wanting to watch Garrick turn his back on you again. But your eyes open again when you feel the bed next to you dip and a warm, calloused hand cup your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Garrick’s voice is quiet, subdued in a way you’ve never heard before. “I heard everything you said. And I saw everything you didn’t.”

He starts, but stops in a way that indicates he’s unsure on how to continue.

“I failed.” He exhales. “Failed you spectacularly in every single way I could.” He shakes his head as if unbelieving of his own actions. The movement causing your throat to catch, unsure of where this conversation is headed.

“I took advantage of the fact that you’ve always been able to take care of yourself. Always been strong, even before you were mine.” He scoffs, irritated with himself. “But I took your strength for granted. Made it mean that you didn’t need me, not really. Not in the way that mattered.”

“I chose to make our relationship secondary. To let you bleed to the back of my life, when in my mind you were always the front.” Garrick’s thumb begins to stroke your cheek as his voice becomes reflective. “In the end though, my actions spoke far louder than any of my words. I told you that you were my world, and you still are. Always will be. But I never treated you that way. I never put you before what I considered my duty.”

Rising from the bed, Garrick begins pacing, as though the words can only come if he keeps moving, if he keeps himself in the reflective moment he seems to be caught up in.

“I’ve always followed Xaden. Always been his right hand. Just like my dad was Fen’s. But never once did I ever stop and really look to see what that meant. How the rest of the people in my life fit into that dynamic. Never had to.” He pauses, eyes coming back to find yours.

“That was until you came around.” He says coming back towards you. “Not until you made me begin to question things. Question what I was trying to prove, why I was always the one following orders, not giving some of my own. I let my own life fade into unimportance, everything that wasn’t detrimental to the mission quickly forgotten.”

“You taught me that. The way you left me standing in the courtyard, devastated that the one piece of my life that truly mattered slipped through my fingers at my own doing.” The way his eyes glaze begins to pull at the ropes tied tightly around your heart. “Every single moment of happiness that I’ve experienced with you drowned out by the realization that I tore everything apart. The weight on my chest from not knowing you were hurt, not knowing that I could’ve lost you and I would’ve been none the wiser. I’ll never forgive myself.” 

Its then that the healer comes strolling back in, causing Garrick to step back away from your cot.

“Sorry to disturb.” An aged male voice greets as you see Nolon walk into the room behind the healer. “But I’m sure you’ll both be glad to get back to the rider’s quadrant quickly after this. After all, I believe there will be raucous celebrations tonight.”

You give him a tight smile as he stops when he’s flush with your cot. “I’ll be able to calm some of the inflammation, but the bruising will still be there for some time. But before we begin, go ahead and take this.” Nolon finishes as he brings a small vial forward with a clear liquid. 

You nod your head in understanding and take the vial from him. Knocking the liquid back, you swallow and lay your head back down and he raises his hands to your face. The power of mending begins to pass through your body and there’s no way to stop your body from tensing through the pain. Your jaw clenched, your hands fall to the sheets below you, and you grip them with white knuckles. 

The feeling of a large palm covering your hand has you releasing its tight grip, but soon regaining it intertwined in Garrick’s hand. You try not to squeeze too hard, but as the zip of mending continues the pulsing pain around your eye, you can’t help the whimper of pain. Though instead of your hand tightening further in Garrick’s, his curls around yours harder as if trying to take the pain for himself. 

A few more minutes tick by before the magic around your face begins to fade and you are able to open your unaffected eye with clear vision. As you blink the sting of tears away, you are finally able to see Garrick clearly and you can’t help the way your breath catches at the sight.

Gone is the stoic leader who exudes power and strength, in his place is a man that looks wrecked from sleepless nights and personal torment. It’s impossible for you not to reach for him, your hand that he still has in his pulling him forward. Your other hand rises as he shifts to his knees next to your cot and goes to his face, cupping and stroking his stubbled cheek. Garrick surprises you by leaning into your touch, his eyes closing at the tenderness you’ve given him. 

Your vision narrows to the sorrowful man in front of you, your eyes unable to move from his dim ones. Eyes that normally shone a bright gold and flecked with greens as deep as emeralds. The color has now dimmed to a dull honey, every single speck darkened to almost black. 

“How did we get here?” You voice comes out as a rasp, a sound unlike your normally smooth tone. 

Garrick’s eyes close as if overcome with emotion from your question. 

“Letting anyone or anything come before you will always be my greatest regret. I just hope that someday, somehow you will be able to let me atone for every way I’ve failed you. Failed us.” The spark of hopefulness in his words put a sad smile on your face. 

Garrick continues to burrow his face in your hand, a man starved for the only touch he’s been craving. 

“What about Xaden and Sorrengail?” You ask, the question the thing that keeps you from willingly folding into the arms of the man in front of you.

“I’ll always try to protect them both, but I refuse to do it again at the expense of you. As I told Xaden, you are my responsibility. The only person I want to take care of.” He exhales the breath he seemed to be holding. “Never again will you feel like you aren’t my priority. Never again will you think you are less than the most important person in my life.”

Your hand snakes around the back of Garrick’s neck and you pull his face to yours, resting your foreheads together. 

“Then take me back to my room, Section Leader.” There’s no mistaking the way Garrick tenses in your arms, his entire body ready for a blow that you know will never come. You can feel the way the wind whooshes out of him, an exhale believing that you are completely lost to him. 

Garrick slowly nods and begins to stand. He holds his hand out and helps you rise from the cot. Wincing as the pull of the mending tugs at you, but you hold steady on your feet. 

The silence between you grows thicker and thicker as you both continue back to the riders quadrant. Garrick’s footsteps click, though you can hear the hesitation in even those. As you ascend the stairs, his hand tightens on yours, the last seeming vestibule of your relationship that he is trying in every way not to lose. 

Entering the landing of the second-year floor, you trudge to your door, pulling along a hesitant Garrick. You let your hand turn, the click of your lock unmistakable and Garrick pulls in a shaky breath behind you. A small smile gracing your lips, you pull him forward, his brows pulling in with confusion. 

“I’m giving you a chance.” You state with conviction, turning as Garrick continues to grip your hand as a vice. “One chance. Prove yourself. Prove that you will put our relationship and yourself before the weight of the rest of the world, because at the end of the day, the world will only crush you if you let it.”

Before you have time to blink, your breath leaves your lungs as you are tugged against a hard chest. Garrick’s arms encircling your waist in a punishing grip, his face buried into the top of your hair.

“I will spend every day proving that you are my priority. You are my one love, my partner and the singular person I will drop anything and everything for.” The words rush out of Garrick, the singular conviction in his tone obvious.

Backing up one step, you are caught off guard again when Garrick’s lips slam into yours. The kiss claiming in a way that you’ve never experienced before. The desperation, hope, and utter happiness leaching through every movement of his lips on yours. 

He lifts you up by your thighs and your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, his strong arms balancing your weight with ease. A smile breaks out over your lips and as you part, you don’t miss the dimple, that is your undoing, making an appearance. 

Your hands stroke his cheeks as you watch the light slowly climb back into his eyes, the tension seeming to melt from every pore. Smiling back at each other, you refuse to focus on anything but the hope that has settled in your bones. 

Hope for Garrick’s commitment. Hope for peace. Hope for your future. And finally, the hope that you will never be without the man you’re wrapped around ever again.

Divider: @empyreanevents

Taglist: @ilovetomtailor @nevermoresworld @nastylicious @iambored24601 @mysticalfuncollectorus @sadpieceofbread @alwayshave-faith

[gay-dorito-dust]

We need more bitting for those silly goofs 🙏your last one made me think about it the entire day !!! if possible this time pre relationship 🤔 bless ya cause you re pumping dmc content like your life depends on it and I'm loving it ♥️♥️♥️♥️

the fic that annon is referencing is right here:

The fic

Dante

Biting can still be a thing that happens with Dante before your relationship, but I think that it’s more playful and stupid, such as him asking you to bite him harder to see whether he could handle it.

His demon side could definitely handle the hardest of bites you could possibly muster, but his human side cannot obviously. He’s dramatic as fuck about it but then again it’s Dante, when is he not dramatic about something.

‘You almost bit my finger off!’ He cries.

‘You’re a half demon, you can heal.’ You reminded him and he stops acting as though he’s in indescribable pain.

‘Oh yeah I can.’ He then stares at the finger that was now fully healed from your bite mark, wiggling it for the sake of wiggling his finger and smiling.

‘I fucking hate you.’ You say.

‘I’d say that’s the first step to slowly getting you to admire you like me.’ Dante retorts and you’re left wondering how this red coated fool could even be allowed to be like that in general, all the while fighting back a smile of your own. You had to admit the man had charm.

He only nibbled on your fingers, but still this is only playful and doesn’t mean any more than that, playful.

Biting between you two wasn’t seen as a claim or anything, it was seen as something as silly and goofy and something you did when there was nothing better to do then bother the other person. Biting is a form of fun for you both pre and post relationship that wasn’t in any way sexual, not at all, just something that is done when one or the other is bored.

He will still probably fake moan as well because again it’s Dante, he’ll try to publicly humiliate you whenever possible for a laugh you can share about later.

Vergil

There’s most likely no chance in hell that Vergil would bite you or you bite him pre-relationship.

After all biting is more of a claiming of something that’s already been pre-established between two demons, a reminder to all that they were taken and a challenge for those who never get the message. That’s how it is in his demon brain.

So him biting you before a relationship isn’t something he’s willing to do at all, he’ll most likely still be looking at ways to win you over however he can, whether that’s through poetry and notes of any kind or just being within your presences whenever he could.

If Vergil has interest in you then biting is the last thing he’d do when there’s other ways of winning your affections, of winning you over such as showing off his strength during combat, or taking care of the demons causing you the most issues and piling them in front of you in hopes of praises or acknowledging of his power.

Though while biting is off the table, scenting is not, he will scent any clothing you may have in hopes that other demons or humans will know that you were already within the sights of another, that and they should fuck off if they didn’t wish to meet an unfortunate end. The image of him scenting your stuff is enough to have him embarrassed to how low he has stooped in order to hopeful claim a partner/mate of his own, but also a taxing time as he was trying to make sure every inch of your clothes had his scent and only his.

If he found you with a scent that wasn’t his? He’s re-scenting your entire wardrobe until it was gone and replaced by him. It’s bothersome as it was tiresome but Vergil knew it would be worth it in the long run, for your protection and progression of your future relationship.

He has other ways of staking claim to things that are his or will be his in future.

[circumscribitwrites]

My job agency’s suggested the staff writer role for me. I guess it makes sense, I’ve got a social sciences degree from a top university so they can guess I’m good at writing. I’m not sure what content Men’s Monthly would want from a bear like me though. While it’s only been a year and a bit since I graduated, my muscle pretty much dissolved to fat while I was studying, and I think it’s about working out or something? But it can’t hurt to show up to interview.

You had a great body when you started university. It didn’t last.

The campus gym was closed for “social distancing.” You never left your dorm. All you could do was eat, study, sleep, and repeat. Other people had their freshman fifteen. For you, it was closer to fifty.

Thanks, Covid-19.

You tried one diet after another. You promised yourself that you’d finally exercise again - starting tomorrow, of course. But you had to put your studies first. The weight just didn’t come off. By the time you graduated, you’d replaced every piece of clothing you owned.

Twice.

Health and fitness weren’t your forte - at least not anymore. That's why you never expected Men’s Monthly to reach out to you.

“So,” said the interviewer, “we don’t doubt that you can do the job. But we’re interested in how you’d do it. We want someone who can take a personal approach to their stories. Really get involved, have skin in the game, connect with our audience, all that. Is that you?"

You nodded.

“Alright, great! Now, before we go further, there’s just a little assignment. We want you to write a story - nothing too long. Shouldn’t take more than a day. Here it is: Why do you work out?”

You gulped. You hadn’t been to the gym in…years. And the idea of going in there now, looking like…you? You felt sick to your stomach.

Your stomach.

You blinked. “Sure...That’s no problem.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great. Just let me know when you’ve written it!”

The call ended. You let out a sigh. You couldn’t just come up with some fake story. And there was a gym just down the street…

You rummaged through your closest, finding old sweatpants with just enough give to fit around your waist and a t-shirt baggy enough to cover up your stomach. It was easy enough to get a pass for the gym. You ventured beyond the front desk, surveying the equipment: treadmills, exercise bikes, weight machines, squat racks, dumbbells.

Dumbbells.

How hard could they be? They literally had dumb in the name, after all. You walked over to the rack and picked up the weights, one in each hand. Slowly, carefully, you moved them upward.

Your muscles flexed, biceps already bulging.

Why did you work out?

Because you wanted to feel healthy. To be strong.

Another curl. You felt yourself getting warmer, beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

Why did you work out?

Because it felt good. And you deserved to feel good.

The weights felt heavier now. Your muscles burned. Sweat ran down your face, falling into your eyes. You kept going, kept pushing.

Why did you work out?

‘Cus this is what you do. Workin’ out’s part of you. Always has been.

Your shirt was drenched. You put the weights down and peeled it off your skin, tossing it to the floor.

Yeah, you worked out.

And it made you look like a fuckin’ beast.

Your shoulders were broad, your chest wide, your arms pumped, your abs glistening. You couldn’t get enough of your own reflection.

They’re gonna want something for that story. Better take a pic.

Thanks for applying, Anonymous!

And if you're looking to Be a Man™, Men's Monthly is still hiring!

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

Part One

PART TWO

Natasha's hands skillfully fly across the keyboard at one of the computers as she types in code after code, likely bypassing any security and downloading the files to her drive. Her eyes flicker around the screen, taking in whatever information she sees. Cap remains by the door, keeping watch for anyone who might try to sneak up on all of you.

"I believe I've found her file but it's quite large Cap." She doesn't take her gaze from the screen as she reads through the first page. "We'll have to wait until we get back to the compound to read through it more thoroughly but I can at least figure out the basics now."

"The basics are all we really need right now." He responds, glancing at you before returning most of his attention to the doorway.

Your nerves grow slightly knowing that they'll be reading through everything that you've been through at some point. Your life up to this point hasn't been the prettiest and it's not exactly something you want anyone else knowing. You know you don't have much of a choice though.

"Let's see..." Natasha squints slightly as she reads over the small writing on the screen. "Says here that her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and that she's roughly twenty-five years old." She pauses, clicking a few times as she likely searches for the more important information. "Ah, here we go. Her ability is called 'Cursed Speech'. Apparently whatever she says pretty much happens. That explains the muzzle."

The man seems intrigued with this as he finally moves away from the door to come read over her shoulder. They both remain silent, not giving you any clue as to what they're reading. Your eyes flicker between them and the door, nervous that someone can come through now that they're not keeping watch.

Thankfully, once the files are completely downloaded they both step away, Natasha grabbing the drive before turning towards you. "Let's go." She jerks her head in a motion to signal that you need to follow them once again.

The three of you exit the server room- Cap leading followed by you and then Natasha taking up the rear. You're pretty certain the formation is both to keep you from bolting and to also keep you protected should anyone show up. You're not complaining either way since you're not being left behind this way.

They lead you down many different hallways without ever once second guessing if they're going the right way. The man must have one hell of a memory if he's able to remember his exact route that he had taken. It's even more impressive knowing that everything's backwards since he's going the opposite way. If it was you, you would've already gotten lost. If the two abandoned you, you'd never find your way to an exit or even back to your room.

Cap goes around one last corner before finally reaching a large metal door at the end of a corridor. It must be the door they entered through since the locking mechanism appears broken allowing him to swing the door open effortlessly. Your eyes squeeze shut at the sudden brightness before slowly opening into a squint. You've forgotten how bright and intense the sun can be after spending so long in barely lit rooms. While the light is a bit much, the warmth from it spreads pleasantly over what little skin you have showing.

You don't get much of a chance to bask in it as Natasha grabs your upper arm, tugging you along until you're boarding a jet that has a few others on it. You have no idea who any of them are but they all seem wary and confused at your presence. You probably look insane with how you're dressed but there's not much you can do about it.

Natasha pushes you down into a seat before clasping a buckle over your lap and moving towards the cockpit. You watch her go before turning to take a better look at the other people around you. The first one to draw your attention is a rather nervous looking gentleman with dark hair that has speckles of gray in it and glasses. His hands rub together as he likely tries to push his nerves away but you can tell from the way he keeps glancing at you that your presence isn't helping.

The next person you examine is a man with sandy colored hair who seems to be looking over his quiver of arrows. Every now and then his gaze will move from what he's doing to you yet his face remains neutral, not letting you know how he feels or what he's thinking at all. Next to him is a young female with long dark hair and a pretty red jacket. Her gaze hasn't left you a single time since you've gotten in the jet though it looks more like she's looking through you rather than at you.

Cap is the next person you look towards, finding him standing tall with his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he has a hushed conversation with the last person in the group- a man sporting red and gold armor. Caps brows are furrowed as he talks, showing that he's thinking quite hard about something. The man in armor seems a bit more nonchalant as he nods along to whatever is being said while at the same time scrolling through a tablet. Their voices are too quiet for you to hear what they're saying so you turn your attention away.

The man with the arrows sends one last glance your way before putting his things away and moving towards the cockpit. Shortly after he disappears from sight the jet whirs to life as it lifts from the ground. Your stomach flips as you close your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that you're no longer on solid ground. The idea of traveling extremely fast while hovering thousands of miles away from the ground is unnerving, especially when the last time you experienced it was long ago. Nobody else seems to be bothered by it except maybe the guy with glasses but he just seems anxious in general.

"Why's the chick dressed like Hannibal Lecter?" Someone finally speaks up, breaking the tense silence. You keep your eyes closed as you listen but you're able to tell who asked based off of the direction the voice came from. Only two people were standing off to your right and you already know what the one sounds like which narrows it down to the man in armor.

"That's what I'd like to know." Cap sighs as he glances over to you. "Nat and I managed to get her files so we can go over them all together once we return to the compound."

"Let's just hope she's not a cannibal." Armor man mumbles which earns him a slight scolding from Cap. The rest of the ride is silent after that which you're somewhat thankful for. You hate listening to people talk about you. You'd much rather sit in complete silence regardless of how tense or awkward it is.

After an unknown amount of time, the jet finally lands at what you're assuming is the compound. You're led off of the flying death trap as soon as the back of it is open by Cap who has a firm grip on your shoulder. Despite your curiosity, you keep your gaze locked to the ground, not wanting to show interest in your new prison. The entire walk is quiet as Cap takes you into a building and down many hallways before finally stopping at a room.

Entering, you're met with a single metal table and chair sitting right in the middle of the room. The two way mirror on the wall confirms that it's an interrogation room. Cap releases his grip from your shoulder as he orders you to sit down. Doing as you're told, you watch him exit without another word. He's probably going to check your files before bothering with questioning you. It's the smart thing to do, after all.

Taglist: @desiree-lee @seventeen-x

[starsinthesky5]

what other trips do they go on?

a/n: this has been swirling in my head since last night 🙂‍↕️

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

it’s no secret that joe used to be a bit of a hermit. content to stay tucked away at home, keeping to himself, his circle tight, his world small. he liked the quiet. the privacy. the comfort of routine and walls that kept curious eyes out. it wasn’t that he didn’t love life, he just preferred to live it quietly. out of the spotlight, off the grid. but then she came into his life like sunlight through the blinds, warm and undeniable, and something in him shifted.

she had this way of making the world feel a little less loud, a little less scary. with her hand in his, even the busiest cities felt like background noise. she got him out of the house, out of his own head, out into the world. and now they travel—not for show, not for headlines, but because it brings them closer. road trips through the middle of nowhere. late-night swims in oceans they’d never seen before. mornings in places where no one knows their names. she made him want to see the world, not just read about it. and somehow, with her beside him, it feels safe to do so.

here are a few examples of some of their ventures together:

lake house retreats: joe’s a midwestern boy through and through, so when the offseason hits and the world finally quiets down, they disappear to a secluded lake house tucked into the trees—just the two of them and the sound of water lapping against the dock. they pack light: oversized hoodies, sweatpants, flannels they share, and those matching sweatshirts she had made that say captain and first mate as a joke that made him roll his eyes and grin. phones off. fishing poles propped up at the edge of the dock. she curls up in an old foldable chair, reading while he fiddles with the grill, sneaking glances at her over his shoulder like he can’t believe she’s really his. later, they roast marshmallows and drink red wine in front of the firepit, bundled together under one blanket, her legs tangled with his, her fingers resting on his thigh while he plays with her rings absentmindedly. they sleep with the windows open and wake up to birds and soft light on the hardwood floor. it’s quiet. peaceful. just them.

euro summer: once the season ended, they vanished for a few weeks, ducking away from headlines and expectations and into a summer of gelato, linen, and golden hour kisses. they wandered cobbled streets in italy, got lost in coastal greek villages, and kissed under every string of lights they walked past in southern france. she wore breezy sundresses and carried a film camera; he wore linen button-downs and a backpack he always insisted on carrying for the both of them. they sipped aperol spritzes in the shade, people-watched in piazzas, and bought stupid little souvenirs they still laugh about now. they took trains, stayed in boutique hotels, and shared headphones on park benches like teenagers. they’d already hit paris and cannes for work things earlier that month, but this trip was just for them—messy hair, sunburned noses, and love notes scribbled in the back of receipts she tucked into her journal.

napa valley/wine country: this one started with her. he wasn’t really a wine guy—until she was curled up beside him one night, sipping a glass and explaining the difference between earthy and fruity notes, cheeks warm, eyes sparkling. now? he books the reservations himself. they’ll escape to napa or sonoma for long weekends where she wears flowy skirts and he wears his best button-ups because she told him wine country deserves a little effort. they giggle through tastings, take blurry selfies in vineyards, and walk back to their room arm in arm, tipsy and giddy. she ends up drunk off two glasses, red-stained lips and nose scrunchy giggles, and he buys bottles based on labels with butterflies or fonts she likes. he’s got no clue what he’s doing. just that she’s happy, and that’s enough.

homey road trips: sometimes, they just need to drive. no cameras, no flights, no screens. just her singing off-key on purpose to make him laugh, joe’s hand on her thigh, and miles of open road. they’ve road-tripped to her hometown, to florida, even down to mississippi to see his extended family. she DJs with aggressive control of the aux, feeding him gas station snacks and narrating billboards in ridiculous accents. he smiles so much his cheeks ache. they stop at diners, antique shops, and scenic overlooks just because they feel like it. they take polaroids at every gas station and kiss behind trees like teenagers. it’s on these long drives—when she’s barefoot on the dashboard and the sun’s hitting her just right—that joe swears he’s seconds away from pulling over and proposing...even without an actual ring. these are the days that feel like forever.

beach getaways: they’ve got a weakness for the ocean. hawaii, the bahamas, the maldives—it doesn’t matter where, as long as the water’s warm and the sun’s high. she lives in his old t-shirts over bikinis, and he never lets her walk anywhere without his arm around her waist. they swim together in the mornings, her legs wrapped around his waist, kisses traded in the waves like secrets. afternoons are naps in the shade, skin sticky with sunscreen and sea salt. he braids her hair after she swims, surprisingly gentle with his fingers, while she lays in his lap with her eyes closed. at night, they walk the shoreline barefoot, watching the stars and whispering things they’re too shy to say in daylight. they come back with tan lines and new freckles, but more than anything, with memories that feel like dreams. salty, golden, and impossibly sweet.

destin, florida (the bye week getaway flashback from chapter two): last october during joe’s bye week, they escaped to destin. just the two of them, off the grid. it was quiet, warm, and slow in the best way. they stayed in a beachfront rental where she walked around barefoot in his old college tees, and he grilled them dinner while she danced around the kitchen. mornings were spent with her legs thrown over his lap on the balcony, sipping coffee. afternoons meant long swims, reading together under an umbrella, and him tracing shapes into her sunscreened back. nights brought card games, shared playlists, and kisses salty from the sea. it was the kind of trip that made them talk about the future like it was already here.

ibiza: their ibiza trip was a dream. equal parts chaos and closeness. they went with his ohio state friendgroup, but always found themselves sneaking off just the two of them, ducking into cafes or walking hand in hand down white stone alleys. she wore sparkly beach coverups and sunglasses bigger than her face, and he wore open button-downs and his bucket hat, watching her like the sun rose just for her. nights meant dancing till sunrise, his hands on her hips in crowded clubs, her laugh echoing in his ear. they made out like teenagers in the hotel hallway. it was wild, electric, and so full of them.

[calebsdog]

It was your birthday today. Through the entire week you've been handing out party invitations to your classmates. If someone was out sick one day you'd give them the invite the next. You would stop at nothing to make sure you got the biggest birthday celebration!

So... How come Gran's house was completely empty? Gran had soothed your nerves when nobody showed up at first.

"The clock just hit noon, dear. I'm sure your friends are already on their way. Sometimes people run a bit late." Her words were enough to keep you calm for a little while. But the clock kept ticking. First it was ten minutes. Then thirty minutes.

The first hour moved by painfully slowly. You sat and sat in front of the clock. It was okay to be a few minutes late to a party. Maybe even half an hour. Or there was the possibility of someone misreading their card and thinking they had to show up a different time.

But no sign of anyone after the first hour? How could that be possible? You were positive everybody in your class had received one. So why...

"Hmph!" Abruptly standing up from the floor, you stomp your foot. Your tiny hand grabs the colorful party hat on your head. The flimsy paperboard creases when you slam it against the ground.

Angry tears were beginning to well up in your eyes. You were super angry, of course. How dare your entire class abandon you like this? You drew each and every card by hand! One of your favorite crayons broke in the process.

But it wasn't just an angry feeling clawing at your chest. You've never been left in the dust like this before. Why had the world suddenly forgotten that you existed? It was your special day! Everyone should be thinking about you. There should have been a line outside of your door with people begging to be let inside.

It was all too much. You rush out of the kitchen. Tiny legs carrying you past party streamers, a banner hung in the entryway of the kitchen, and floating balloons. Gran and Caleb had also worked hard to give your guests a fun party. Now, nobody was there to appreciate it.

Caleb watches helplessly as his pipsqueak finally snaps. The longer that passed without a knock on the front door Caleb knew it was only a matter of time before you got fed up and stormed off.

His heart hurts in tune with you. Nonstop this week you had been gushing about how grand your birthday party would be. You truly believed none of your classmates would miss the opportunity to come celebrate.

Underneath the table, out of Gran's sight, Caleb's small fist clenches underneath the table. Not a single person bothered to show up? They couldn't even stop by to say hello? You clearly put your heart and soul into your party today.

It doesn't take long for Caleb to follow you. You're tucked away in the corner of your bedroom. He finds you with a party invitation clutched to your chest.

"Gege..." You whimper into your knees as Caleb approaches. Too miserable to move as Caleb sits down on the floor, you continue to cry.

"Does everyone hate me? I thought they were all my friends. Nobody cares about me!"

Caleb tugs your crying body into his chest as he's done a thousand times before. And though Caleb wishes he could keep a smile on your face forever, this definitely won't be the last time he holds your crying body. That was okay. His shoulder was always available.

"Hey," Caleb whispers close to your ear. He starts to rub your back while you soak his shirt with your fat tears.

"What does it matter? If they weren't as happy coming to your party as you were inviting them— then they didn't deserve to hang out at our house anyways. They're the ones who get to miss out on all the fun."

It was still early in the evening. It'll be a few hours before it's your bedtime. Caleb still has some time to make it up to you.

"They don't understand that the day you were born... Is the most important day in the world. But I understand, pipsqueak. So you just forget about all those jerks. I can make your birthday party way cooler than they could!"

[arminreindl]

Tewkensuchus: King of Punta Peligro

Last month we got our fourth croc of the year and our second notosuchian: Tewkensuchus salamanquensis (Forehead crocodile from the Salamanca Formation), a large-bodied sebecoid from the earliest Paleocene of Argentina. And GODDAMN is it a cool one.

Below some of the fossil material of Tewkensuchus, it doesn't look like much but stay with me for this post.

Starting with the fossil material, Tewkensuchus is admittedly not the most complete sebecid, hell Dentaneosuchus from two years ago is significantly better preserved. Essentially, Tewkensuchus preserves a bit of the skull and a few vertebrae. But the material we do have is exceptional in other ways. Like some European sebecoids, it had a high and broad sagittal crest that extends over its forehead flanked by two broad depressions. Remember the similarity to European sebecoids, thats gonna come back later. Theres also some interesting stuff in how the bony eyebrows, the palpebrals, articulate with the rest of the skull.

What is REALLY weird however is the shape of the postorbitals. Quick anatomy lesson, in crocs the postorbitals form the front corners of the skull table thats located just behind the eyes. They tend to be flat, but in the case of Tewkensuchus they are inclined so that they rise upwards behind the eyes. Now we have plenty of examples of crocodylomorphs with raised squamosals, giving them a somewhat ear-like appearance, but raised postorbitals are a new one.

Below: An artistic interpretation of Tewkensuchus featuring its unique cranial morphology by Manusuchus (give them a follow) from different angles.

One last thing on its anatomy, it was BIG. And I mean big. The team that described Tewkensuchus estimate that its complete skull might have been just over half a meter long, so some 20 inches. This might correspond to a weight of perhaps 300 kg (660 lb), larger than even the largest Cretaceous Baurusuchids.

Now, I hope you remember the part where I said that theres similarities to European sebecoids. Well that sentence has two key points the paper deals with. First of all, the connection to European forms itself. Phylogenetic analysis seems to indicate that despite being found in Patagonia, all its closest relatives are from the Eocene of Europe. These are the recently named giant Dentaneosuchus from France, Bergisuchus from Germany and Iberosuchus (I'll let you figure that one out for yourselves). So after Tewkensuchus disappears South America is inhabited by only distant cousins while its closest relatives show up some 20 million years later on the other side of the Atlantic.

The other noteworthy part of the statement is the use of "Sebecoid" rather than sebecid. That's because of taxonomic back and forth. Essentially, a few previous studies have not included European sebecoids (Bergisuchus and Iberosuchus) within the family Sebecidae, instead featuring them as a separate branch that split off beforehand. In some studies that branch is known as Bergisuchidae, in others they are two branches, you get the idea. Now the description of Dentaneosuchus for instance did away with Bergisuchidae and simply include these European forms within Sebecidae itself. Still as the basalmost members, but given the honor of being at least included. Same goes for Ogresuchus. Well, in the description of Tewkensuchus, we go back to the separate model. So Bergisuchus, Iberosuchus, Dentaneosuchus and Tewkensuchus all form a single not officially named group simply referred to as the "Eurogondwanan clade". This group was placed as the sister family to Sebecidae and together with Ogresuchus the two form the newly named Sebecoidea.

Europe's sebecoids, Dentaneosuchus (art by Joschua Knüppe), Bergisuchus (by Scott Reid) and Iberosuchus (once again Manusuchus)

And this is where we need to address the fact that Tewkensuchus creates a bunch of new problems and makes old ones worse. For starters, it's size. By all accounts its way too big. Keep in mind, this animal appeared some 2 to 3 million years after the extinction of the dinosaurs, an extinction event that is generally thought to have killed everything on land heavier than 10 kilos. And then you get Tewkensuchus with an estimated weight of 300. Well, there's two possible explanations for that. Explanation 1 hinges on the known fact that these rules don't quite apply to semi-aquatic animals. Sure, anything large on land got whiped out, but eusuchian crocodiles managed to survive quite well despite their large size in part because they were partially aquatic. So perhaps Tewkensuchus and sebecoids as a whole underwent an aquatic phase? Well, this would work quite well with what is known as the Sebecia-hypothesis. Essentially, there is some debate on the relationship between sebecids and other notosuchians. Some studies draw a link between them and the similarily terrestrial baurusuchids, placing them in the group Sebecosuchia. Other studies meanwhile believe that sebecids are most closely related to peirosaurids, which in turn are close kin to itasuchids and mahajangasuchids, with both of the latter being more semi-aquatic than other notosuchians. The problem with this is twofold. On the one hand, to my knowledge there has never been any indication that sebecids underwent an aquatic phase and even Cretaceous sebecoids like Ogresuchus from before the impact were clearly terrestrial. The other issue, as nice as this would fit with the Sebecia-hypothesis, this particular study actually recovers the Sebecosuchia model. So there's that.

Personally I don't really buy into this explanation, which takes us to the second possibility. Sebecoids got really jacked really fast. I mean, that's it really. If sebecoids didn't undergo some weird little phase that somehow excempts them from the 10 kilo rule then the only logical answer is that they must have grown to a ridiculous degree the second the dust settled. Do we have evidence for that? Well....kinda but not really no. The closest we have is the fact that Dentaneosuchus from the Eocene clearly reached an enormous size on its own, but that was over 20 million years after the impact. We do at least know that sebecoids were small prior to the KPG thanks to Ogresuchus from Spain, which grew to only a meter in length. But a sample size of one isn't exactly exact proof that all sebecoids were small prior to the impact, especially with shifting phylogenies. The paper itself argues that its most parsimonious that whatever sebecoid crossed the boundry was already fairly large, but time will tell if this holds up. Whatever the case, with a skull half a meter in length it was certainly a formidable predator and a terrifying sight to any unfortunate mammal to cross its path.

Tewkensuchus attacking a startled Monotrematum, a South American monotreme, art by Joschua Knüppe

Finally the last thing to address, paleogeography. It sucks. Moving on. Jokes aside, sebecoid geography was already a pain in the ass. Assuming the sebecosuchian model, sebecoids likely split off from baurusuchids during the Santonian. Mind you this is purely based in the first appearance of baurusuchids, since sebecoids didn't appear for quite a while. Ignoring the problematic Doratodon, the first sebecoid to appear in the fossil record is Ogresuchus in the Maastrichtian of Spain. In the Paleocene we then obviously get Tewkensuchus representing the Eurogondwana clade in Argentina as well as sebecids proper, which seem to be constrained to South America. But then in the Eocene we suddenly have sebecoids in Europe and Africa (for simplicity I'm assuming that Eremosuchus was a sebecoid rather than a sebecid as is traditional). So, how does any of this work? We don't know. I've been breaking my head over how to best explain this without just repeating the paper itself, so let me just say this. Maybe sebecoids originated in South America with baurusuchids, they managed to enter Europe at the very least once giving rise to Ogresuchus, probably via Africa given that its very much undersampled. From there who fucking knows. Maybe Ogresuchus was just one random branch and the two main groups both actually originate in South America. Maybe the Eurogondwana group emmigrating to Europe as well while sebecids proper remained. Maybe the Eurogondwana group originated in Europe and Tewkensuchus simply returned to South America, or maybe they originated in Africa and had members travel west to South America and north to Europe. Or maybe....you get the idea, we don't know. We don't know if they rafted or took land bridges (tho the latter seems more likely), we don't know where certain groups first originated in actuality, we do not know a lot and Tewkensuchus being such a blatant link between Paleocene South America and Europe, which were well separated by that point, raises so many questions.

I imagine this is what this entire last section reads like....

I wish that last segment wasn't as chaotic as it is, but like I said, its a big old confusing mess and it gives me a headachse just thinking about it. So for the time being, its simplest to assume that they split from baurusuchids in South America and then some stuff happened we don't understand. Personally, I'm very much putting my trust in Africa here, I am 100% convinced that some very important stuff went down that we just haven't found yet. But thats just me.

[fandom-go-round]

Hello. How about dating headcanons for Riddle, Azul and Jamil?

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle takes bit to get used to being in a relationship. He cares about you, could even learn to love you, but sharing his life is hard, especially when the people who usually share his life tend to boss him around. He’s very strict about his personal time (his own self-imposed schedule) and fitting you in takes practice. Be patient with him but don’t be afraid to hold to your own boundaries; Riddle doesn’t want you to bend to his will, he wants you to be equals. If you don’t have free time to hang out, you’ll have to compromise to getting time or planning better.

He likes planning dates. Riddle hasn’t seen as much of the world and trying new places together is a great way to check things off his list. He enjoys pampering you when he can; not with physical things but experiences. You’ll catch on quickly that Riddle likes having the power to choose. Make sure to help him prioritize his wants too and you’ll go on lots of fun adventures.

Riddle does his best to not show any biases towards you and most of the time, he succeeds. People outside the friend group have no idea you’re dating, between Riddle keeping things professional and not a lot of PDA. Unlike most relationships, Riddle gets more outwardly smitten the longer you’re together. He likes to hold your hand and eat lunch together, but only after a couple of months. It leads to funny conversations when people try to tease him and he says you’ve bene dating for 6 months.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul is another person who takes a long time to trust and get used to being in a relationship. He wants to date you, very much so, but it’s a mix of cultural differences and his own insecurities. He wants everyone to know you’re dating while he wants no one to know. It can lead to these cute but also awkward greetings where he flip flops from being professional and overly affectionate. The Twins can’t get enough. This doesn’t last long, only the first couple of months as Azul gets used to being your partner.

He loves to pamper you but he warned, he will abuse his gift giving skills if you’re not both careful. He wants to give you gifts while you date; it’s part of mer dating culture, but also to show he can provide for you. Azul gets overzealous if he’s not careful and will start giving gifts for everything; good, bad or neutral. Put your foot down or better yet, start giving him gifts. It takes a lot more for him to accept something and will highlight how one sided everything has been. Only use his powers of gift giving for good, otherwise you run the risk of ruin.

Loves to hear you talk about him, no matter what you’re saying. Bragging about how the Monstro Lounge is doing great? He’s on cloud nine all day. Talking about the date the two of you had? He’s making notes about what you enjoyed and how to better replicate it for next time. Complaining about something? Even that he enjoys; you wouldn’t complain if you didn’t care, just don’t go overboard. Azul is always afraid you’ll grow sick of him and if you’re talking about him, it’s a good way for him to know you still want to be with him. Does his public image need the talking up? No way. Does Azul the man need hyping up? Yes please, give him verbal support.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil falls into the role of loving boyfriend very easily. He’s a scary good boyfriend, in the best of ways. He always remembers your order and the way you like your drinks. He’ll remember you mentioning you want to see a movie and make a whole day of it. He wants to prove he can be the best for you and it’s very sweet, but watch out. He can burn himself out and get resentful if you don’t have the same level of detail about him. Make sure to remind him he’s human and people have to talk about things they want.

He’s nervous about you mixing into his daily life, not because he doesn’t care but because of Kalim. There’s a part of Jamil that wants to keep you to himself, to not let the best part of his life touch the part he hates. He has to be the one to figure out the balance but stand by his side. Your support, verbal and otherwise means the world to him. Stand firm when you make plans with him and tell Kalim Jamil is your favorite; it might be embarrassing but Jamil loves every second.

He likes it when you take initiative setting up dates and going places. He loves to travel but planning everything can get exhausting. If you plan a trip and show him your plans he’ll be over the moon. It feels more long term like this, the two of you planning together. It also helps him lean on you more and not feel embarrassed about it. Jamil will always try to juggle more than he can; you being there for him means the world. The first time you plan a date and take him out, he feels pampered and loved. It’s not something he would have thought he’d enjoy but color him surprised; being the center of your attention is where he loves to be. He never has to hide with you and that’s how he knows you’re the one.

[all-pacas]

@lapdogchase hi i'm making this its own post because it got really long - yeah, people (myself included) have done the math: chase does solve the most cases of everyone on the show outside of house. there's a few factors at play (that i've argued on reddit about), but the crux of it is:

chase has been on the show a very long time, he's had more chances (6 seasons) to get wins. this doesn't explain why he has more wins than foreman (7 seasons), and is sometimes used an excuse to say "chase is better than foreman," but more on that in a second. but it's also useful to compare him to kutner here, who had several solves in his 1.5 seasons: he doesn't "beat" chase, but proportionally? he kind of does. thirteen is actually in a similar situation.

chase's wins are actually in two clusters. he gets 2 solves in s3, and comes up with a number of other Bright Ideas in that season, he gets one notable "near solve" in s6, and his last big cluster is in s8. looked at it like that, it becomes pretty clear his solves are for story purposes: in s8, he's obviously being set up by the show to be the Next House, and gets tons more character focus than he's ever had before. in s6, he gets a couple of moments post-divorce, probably meant to remind the audiences why we should want him back on the team. his s3 run, meanwhile, seems to set up his leaving: a big fuss is made over the question of whether foreman/cameron/chase are ready to move on and leave in s3, with house suggesting foreman isn't because foreman still trusts house's judgement over his own; by contrast, chase spends most of s3 acting on his own and stepping up when house is out of the building, showing he is ready. that isn't to say they aren't real solves, but clearly this is character development first, "chase is a genius" second.

and finally, that character development aspect. simply put: foreman gets a ton of episodes where he struggles with his biases/mistakes/ego, his arrogance costs him, he has to figure out what's going on, and then he (usually) gets a win. we see this in s1's histories, in s3's… actually a lot of s3 episodes, but house training is a crucial example, in s5's huntington's trial and in emancipation. however, since once of foreman's stated character flaws is his arrogance, a lot of the time, the show has him screw up so he can learn and grow from his mistakes. cameron is in a similar boat: while she makes far less overt mistakes than the guys, she is often-to-always shown to be mistaken and have to learn and grow emotionally. strangely, since chase is a much less important character, narratively, he doesn't get this. we hardly ever see into his head, he is never given topics to grapple with until s6, even his focus episodes -- cursed, forever -- tend to be aimed more at house observing him than us seeing through chase's eyes. so he's just handed wins when it's useful for the plot (someone has to solve the case), and isn't tasked to learn and grow. ever. until s8.

take finding judas, for example. it's a fantastic episode. but let's compare it to emancipation.

in emancipation, foreman wants to prove he can solve his own cases without help. he is handed a case by cuddy, and he immediately likes the patient and his family. however, he… has no idea what's going on. he recruits cameron and chase to help him, and we see foreman struggle with the attempt to prove himself, as well as him caring about and bonding with the patient. he eventually solves the case, and, with his newfound confidence, goes to house and tells him he is going to run his own cases/the huntington's trial: foreman has finally proven himself to himself, and isn't asking for permission. the case is very wrapped up in his character development, right? storytelling 101!

in finding judas: we have a case. it's really much more about cuddy, and we see most of the case and patient through cuddy's eyes. chase is certainly around, but he's preoccupied -- along with everyone else -- by tritter. tritter freezes everyone's bank accounts, and foreman accuses chase of ratting, but we don't really see chase react to this: we learn later that chase's accounts weren't frozen, but we don't have, for example, a scene of him trying to figure out what is going on, deciding to lie and hide this information. he tries to tell house he didn't rat, but house is having none of it. again, we're mostly in house and wilson's heads as they argue, or cuddy's for the case. does chase waver? how does he feel about this? we know he's annoyed. foreman and cameron bully him a little, and he's annoyed, but does this hurt his feelings? does he consider ratting? we don't know. he then solves the case. it's a cool moment, but again: has he been paying attention? have there been scenes establishing him putting things together? it just kind of… happens. he tells house and gets punched. the focus is on house. the focus is on wilson. chase is angry, but we never see any of this episode from his perspective. we're barely told how he feels, only how wilson feels about chase's anger. chase solves the case because it is narratively convenient for him, but it isn't about him the way that foreman's episodes and solves are.

it isn't really until s8 that chase's solves and episodes become about him, and not "someone needs to solve this case." that isn't to say he wasn't formally shown to be smart and creative -- he's always been both. but it is why he's never, for example, shown with an ounce of ambition or purpose, unlike cameron and foreman, who both have multiple subplots about their leadership and career and ambitions. it's true that chase is just kind of unambitious and that's totally fine! and that is an actual character trait of his, that is part of his personality.

he becomes more houselike, but unintentionally, i think: no one ever makes a point of it, and the ways he become houselike are fairly coincidental: you could also say he becomes more cynical and bitter and depressed, you know? he becomes houselike because he becomes unhappy. but house is more than just his cynicism and unhappiness: house is passionate in his beliefs, stubborn, determined, arrogant, likes to pick at people and mysteries and understand the world around him, and chase, bless, is not really any of those things. cynicism is a surface-level trait. he resembles house more on the surface, but chase has always been an easy-going, passive, non-confrontational people pleaser at heart. you can be those things and depressed, too.

but in s8, when foreman is no longer available and they know the show is ending: the next house has to be chase. and the show doesn't change him: they focus on chase's unhappiness with his life (which has been a trait of his for a few years now), but also do so by showing him as someone who wants love, who wants a family, who still isn't ambitious but does feel stuck in the life he's ended up with. who becomes the new house, not because he wants to be, but because he doesn't think he has any other options. i love chase md, but it's kind of a tragedy. and even though it ends up making a certain narrative sense, and chase certainly "deserves" it, it was also, clearly, never planned.

[enjakey]

HYBE-boy

Pairing: Niki x Solo-idol!Fem!Reader

(5k) Definitely the shittiest thing I’ve written but I needed to get it out of my head. I have a habit of starting fics off strong but loosing interest near the end. Gotta fix that. Anyways, enjoy! Also I just copy paste my tags and I’m way too lazy to change it like tags are so annoying and my spelling errors every time are insane.

Summary: you debuted as a solo idol in HYBE not long ago, quickly rising to fame. And soon, you’d started a variety show where many other idols joined as guests. On one episode, a few members of ENHYPEN join you, including Niki. And that, you suppose, is when everything started.

There were rumours being whispered in the halls of the HYBE building- rumours, these days, amongst all the idol groups that had debuted, became common. The staff assumed it was a way of entertainment. With everyone’s schedules being so busy, not being able to interact between groups and time being lost in either practice or sleep, gossip inevitably became the most interesting thing that idols could giggle about. 

It was like high school, really.

You debuted as a solo-artist in HYBE recently. It was a rare event, almost unheard of. But HYBE had been experimenting lately, with their international groups, various concepts for each group and even starting variety shows on Youtube. And when the other idols heard of your debut, a lot of them poured in support. The support was never direct though, as followed by the many rules and regulations placed by the company and staff. The support came through silent nods while passing each other in the hallways, during interviews when asked about the hot new singer and with the occasional like on an Instagram post.

You were young, really, but you weren’t the youngest debut in history or something. There were a lot more idols more capable than you, with a support system from their group member’s that you didn’t have access to. You were alone as a solo-artist and you had only your management and manager to lean on- always following you like a shadow, pointing cameras at you because they needed content to pump out.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a break.

A few months into your debut, maybe close to a year, your management pitched an idea for a variety show on Youtube. It wasn’t very complicated- it was simple, cute and allowed you to interact with more people personally and that was something you’d been craving for a while. Every week, an idol or two would be invited as a guest. You would interview them for sometime before diving into the main event- they would pick out your outfit for whatever your next big event would be. And you had to wear it, without fail. And the clothes would come from all the brands that you’d signed brand deals with- it was safe to say that, by then, you'd become quite famous and desired by the industry.

Sometimes, the outfits were perfect, fitting to your tastes and the event. Other times, they were deliberately picked out to be embarrassing- and it wasn’t like these idols meant harm, it was all just fun and games. Some people did it out of love, showing the little friendship you shared and others did it just to get a laugh out of it.

But where had these rumours come from, the ones about Y/N that were being spread for the first time since her debut? She’d heard a bunch of rumours before, that some idol was mad at another idol from another group or that someone had stolen something that wasn’t there. But these were… petty rumours, really. Something people could laugh about because they weren’t even true most of the time.

But this rumor? If it reached the ears of tabloids and netizens? It could lead to scandals and idols being cancelled on the internet. And that wasn’t doing anyone’s career good. 

Every idol has had a dating rumour about them at least once. It was something their management would prepare for- disaster control of some sorts. And your manager had once joked about how it was surprising you’d never gotten a dating scandal yet, already so far into your debut.  It was the fact that you were always so shy and meek, so polite with everyone you met, always within boundaries and keeping your eyes to yourself.

Your manager’s joke would come back to bite everyone in the ass.

It started when ENHYPEN’s Niki, Jay and Sunghoon came onto your variety show. 

You’d filmed it on a rainy Thursday afternoon, squeezed between rehearsals and a sponsorship shoot. The energy had been light. Familiar. You’d run into ENHYPEN plenty of times before- award shows, shared green rooms, occasional company dinners- and though you weren’t close, there was a mutual comfort. Enough for laughs. Enough for easy conversation.

You talked about their recent comeback, their tour schedule, and the way the internet never seemed to stop talking about them. Standard questions, standard reactions. You joked about age, how Jay and Sunghoon were basically old men next to you and Niki. You asked about movies, and the answers were chaotic in the way that only idols with too little sleep and too much media training could be.

And then came the main event: the outfit.

Jay and Sunghoon had been on a mission to ruin you- stylistically, at least. Loud prints, absurd layering, glitter where glitter didn’t belong. All in good fun. The kind of bit that played well on camera and made the editors' jobs easier.

But Niki? He surprised everyone.

“No, no,” Niki said, voice firm but light as Jay waved around the feather blazer and Sunghoon insisted on pairing it with glitter boots. “She has a fansigning. Don’t you think she should feel confident?”

Jay blinked at him. “Since when do you care about confidence? Didn’t you make Jungwon wear socks with sandals once?”

“That was different,” Niki replied. “She’s alone. No group to back her up. She needs to own the room.”

The same Niki known for his pranks and deadpan sarcasm stood there calmly, adjusting hangers and suggesting neutral tones, subtle accessories, respectful silhouettes. It was odd. Not uncomfortable- just… unexpected. The usual culprit of chaos, the youngest prankster, was suddenly... sweet? Respectful? Calm?

No one laughed. Because no one quite knew what to make of it.

The management noticed first. Not just yours, others as well. The ones who stood behind the cameras and barely blinked, the ones who didn’t say much but noticed everything. And they didn’t miss the way Niki had looked at you- not flirtatiously, not overtly. Just… differently, focused, controlled; his tone low and even, his words deliberate.

And then, the whispering began.

It wasn’t malicious, at first. Just hallway noise- the kind that filled the space between rehearsals and late-night meal breaks. Idle speculation that came out of boredom more than belief. But it was enough to shift something. A few too many glances exchanged backstage. A few too many questions buried inside jokes.

The rumour was that maybe the youngest of ENHYPEN had taken a liking to you. That maybe something had sparked. That maybe, quietly, the two of you had started… something.

You hadn’t.

You hadn’t even seen him since the filming ended. There had been no texts, no run-ins. Just silence, like every other guest once the cameras stopped rolling.

But it didn’t matter.

The story had already formed. Not outside, not online- yet. But within, inside the walls of the building, passed between stylists and choreographers, echoed in shared elevators and passed notes. It was a story being crafted where there wasn’t one to begin with.

And if it ever left the building? If someone from the inside decided to push it forward?

It wouldn’t just be a rumor anymore. It would be damage control. For you. For him. For everyone in between.

But for now, it was still just noise. High school gossip in expensive clothing. Quiet enough to ignore. Loud enough to linger.

Nothing really changed.

No one treated you differently. No warnings from management. No tense meetings. No cryptic text from your label. The world kept spinning. You went to work. Filmed another pilot. Ate cafeteria tteokbokki with your team and nodded along in meetings where no one really listened. The rumour, whatever it was, stayed tucked behind other, louder things.

You almost forgot about it.

Almost.

Until you ran into Yuna from ITZY in the hallway one evening, both of you ducking out of practice rooms for water, bowing politely at each other. You’d known her a while- similar schedules, adjacent debut timelines. She was a kid, a familiar, older face.

“Hey Y/N,” she said lightly. “Didn’t know you and Niki were close.”

You blinked. “We’re not.”

“Oh.” She blinked back, all wide eyes and casual curiosity. “Oh, it’s just people were saying... never mind.”

She waved it off, already turning toward the self-checkout, but the question stayed with you like static. You barely remembered what you'd bought. You just kept replaying that moment over and over. Didn’t know you and Niki were close. Like it was a fact. Like you were the last person to hear it.

It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

But then came the elevator.

It was a rainy Monday, and you were late. Wet hair, damp hoodie, earbuds half-falling out as you rushed through the HYBE lobby. You hit the elevator button without thinking, checking your phone, trying to remember if you’d missed any rehearsals.

The doors opened.

Niki was already inside. His hair was damp, likely from practice, skin dewy and flushed. He wore a zip-up jacket with the ENHYPEN logo barely visible on the sleeve and headphones dangling around his neck. He blinked at you once, like even he hadn’t expected this timing. Then he nodded, quiet, and stepped in.

The elevator doors sealed shut.

Silence.

You were both good at this. Being quiet. Being still. The kind of stillness that idols learned to perfect in packed rooms, in interviews where every word was potential headline bait. You focused on the glowing numbers overhead. B3. B2. B1.

He pulled out one earbud. “You’ve been busy.”

You shrugged. “Kind of. You too?”

“Yeah.”

More silence. More air between you than the square footage allowed.

Then, he looked over.

“Did someone say something to you?”

You turned, slowly. “What?”

“About me,” he said. “Or... about us.”

Your stomach dropped, just slightly. “Someone mentioned it.”

He nodded like he already knew. “Yuna?”

You exhaled. “Yeah.”

Another beat. The elevator dinged. Floor 6.

Neither of you moved.

Niki leaned in slightly, hands in his pockets. “It’s weird,” he said, voice low. “People talk like they know things. Like eye contact means something.”

You didn’t respond. Because what could you say?

And then, as the doors opened again, he added, “For the record, I haven’t seen you since that episode because of my schedule. Not because of the rumour.”

You didn’t reply, and he didn’t wait for one. He stepped out and the doors started to close. He stared at you, the way your expression shifted at his words- that maybe you weren’t overthinking this. And you stared back, the way his hair fell over his face, the way his lips stretched into something mischievous, that sparkle in his eyes.

But just before the elevator shut completely, he chuckled again. “And maybe I did want you to notice.”

A week had passed. Rehearsals, fansigns, photoshoots- the usual blur of idol life. Everything was routine. But somewhere in between, your mind kept returning to that brief elevator conversation. The way he looked at you, the way his words hung in the air. You tried to push it aside, but it lingered, like an unfinished song.

Today, you were running late again. A tight schedule, another packed day. As you hurried through the halls of HYBE, eyes on the clock, you found yourself almost at the elevator before you realized- Niki was already inside.

The doors were halfway shut when you spotted him. You paused for just a second.

He looked... different. Not in a big way, but enough to make you notice. His usual headphones were absent, and his hoodie was replaced by a simple black jacket. No flashy logos or branding, just the unbothered, effortless cool he seemed to exude.

He looked up when he heard your footsteps. The second your eyes met, something shifted. It was subtle, but it was there- a shift in the air between you, something unspoken, but not unfamiliar.

You stepped forward, the doors now fully open.

"Running late?" Niki asked, his voice casual, but with a certain warmth you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded. "Yeah, it’s been a long day."

He gave a small, understanding smile. "Yeah, same. Can’t catch a break."

For a moment, there was that comfortable, almost too familiar silence. You stood beside him, both of you staring ahead as the elevator descended. The usual routine, except this time... it felt different.

Then, without warning, Niki glanced over. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I meant what I said the other day. About noticing you.”

Your heart skipped just a little. He said it so nonchalantly, but it was loaded with a kind of intent that made your breath catch in your throat.

You didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t. Instead, you met his gaze again, searching for something.

Another moment of silence.

He didn’t seem to mind it, though. Instead, his lips curved slightly, and he leaned back against the elevator wall, giving you a relaxed, almost teasing look.

"You seem like you’re always in a hurry," he said after a beat, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Maybe we should slow down sometime. Talk outside of elevators."

The suggestion was casual, light, but there was an undeniable weight to it.

The elevator doors dinged open to the next floor, but neither of you moved.

Niki took a small step back, clearly ready to leave, but before he could turn, he shot you one last look- something warm, something more than just a glance.

"Think about it," he said, voice a little lower now, a little more sincere.

And then, with a nod, he was gone- his footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving you standing there, the air between you still heavy with something unspoken.

You didn’t expect to see him again so soon.

It was another hectic afternoon, and you were grabbing a quick snack before heading to your next rehearsal. As you walked through the cafeteria, scanning the crowded tables for an empty spot, you saw him. Niki, sitting alone, his usual relaxed air about him. He was playing with his phone, earbuds in, but the second he caught sight of you, his eyes lit up, and he lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it- an eagerness you hadn’t expected. “You came.”

You hesitated for just a moment. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about his suggestion, but something about being here, actually sitting across from him, made it all feel more real. You nodded, making your way over to his table.

You sat down slowly, feeling the weight of the moment, like it was one of those rare, unspoken decisions in life that changed things, even if you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” Niki said, grinning. "But I’m glad you did."

You chuckled softly, adjusting your drink in front of you. “I wasn’t sure myself. But you seemed... serious.”

“I am.” His smile softened, and for a moment, he looked more... himself. The mask of idol life was gone, replaced by the guy who liked to play games, listen to music, and maybe- just maybe- wanted to see you more than as just a colleague.

You both took a few moments to settle into a quiet, but comfortable rhythm. The usual banter started up, but it was different this time- less forced. There was a strange kind of honesty in his words that made you wonder if he was starting to let his guard down, too.

“So,” Niki said, breaking the silence between bites of his food, “what’s the real reason you agreed to come sit with me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I need a reason?”

He shrugged, looking like he was trying to figure you out. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. You’re not exactly the type to go for small talk.”

You set your cup down, choosing your words carefully. “Maybe I’m just tired of running into you in elevators.”

His eyes twinkled at that. “So you came here to escape the elevators?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile. “Or maybe just to see if you’re as good at talking outside of them.”

His expression shifted for a moment, something unreadable crossing his face. Then, he chuckled softly. “I think you’ll find I’m better in person.”

You didn’t know why, but the way he said it felt... different. As if he wasn’t just making a joke, but giving you a glimpse of something beneath the surface.

Before you could reply, the sound of footsteps approached the table. Neither of you looked up immediately, but you both knew who it was. Someone from the team- probably coming to pull you back into the chaos of schedules and rehearsals.

But as they came closer, Niki glanced at you with a small grin, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Next time," he said, standing up as the person reached the table, “we can skip the cafeteria. Just you and me. Somewhere quieter.”

You watched him walk away, his words echoing in your head. You hadn’t expected this meeting to be anything more than casual, but now... you weren’t so sure.

A lot of people on the internet loved speculating about the idol life and you liked reading it as entertainment. There were netizens that were convinced that no way some of the most attractive people in the country are single, obviously they’re all dating, we just don’t know it. You laughed at it because, well… you didn’t exactly know the answer to it. And perhaps it was due to your introversion. 

You didn’t know if some of your friends were dating. And even if they were, it was definitely in secret because if the company found out, they were pretty much dead meat. And you yourself had never really experienced it. No one had ever approached you for a date or for any romantic interest.

Well, that is, not until Niki came along.

Nishimura Riki, he told you to call him that- Riki. Because Niki felt too fake, felt too impersonal. Behind closed doors, even his members called him Riki. 

“Is Niki meant to be a persona?” You’d asked him.

“What do you mean?” He asked with puzzled eyes. 

“Niki as in… the fake ass emo kid. And then there’s Riki with all the embarrassing pictures from pre-debut,” you couldn't help but laugh.

Niki rolled his eyes, hanging head low as he tutted. Then he looked at you, kicking your feet from under the table. “I forget how much you know about me… being a host for your own variety show and all.”

“I saw the interview with DOPE CLUB, by the way,” you continued laughing but Niki was annoyed that he couldn’t see your mouth behind the mask you wore. It was just your eyes he had access to. “The strawberry underwear…” you choked on your laughter.

Niki grinned but you probably couldn’t see. He was wearing a mask too. But the glint in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “Keeping tabs on me already, huh?”

And you looked to your side, gaze shying away from him.

This was the third time the pair of you met outside of the HYBE building, disguising yourselves in layers of clothes just to sit in a cafe somewhere and talk. And for the most part, you liked it- you liked the pace, the slowness and steadiness of it all. You liked that both of you knew exactly where this was going but chose to take it a day at a time, anyway. He said it was important for him to know you, and that it was important that you got to know him. 

And you did- for the most part, you did. You learnt about his hopes, his dreams, his worries and everything in between. And in his stories, you learnt more about the rest of his members. But a part of you hoped for more- it was a naive, childish wish. You wanted to be able to see his face, his expressions, his teeth when he smiled or the weight in his brows. But you could only see his eyes which were sometimes covered by his hat or his bangs. It was almost frustrating, that during work, all you could offer each other was a nod of acknowledgement and a glint of yearning and when you were alone, you could barely see him.

But you would never admit that to him. You were too scared, too shy and too wary of the predicament of it all.

Niki, on the other hand, was basking in the light of your company. And perhaps people around him noticed it- well, his members did, at least. They saw the way he’d sneak off to restaurants without telling them (which as unusual because he was always pestering one of them to buy him food), and they saw the way he was on his phone more often than usual, and the saw the way his eyes lit up when Sunoo would play one of your songs in the car.

It was obvious, too obvious. And it wasn’t that his Hyungs were against love… it was just that it was too risky.

“You’ve gotta be careful, Riki,” Jay said to him one night over dinner while everyones chopsticks moved awkwardly, hovering over the topic they all wanted to talk about.

“I am being careful,” he grumbled, hanging his head low and rolling his eyes.

“Do you realise what will happen if you get caught?” Jungwon said, voice almost threatening- he was the leader, afterall. It was his job to keep his members in check.

“This is dangerous. You’re so young… young love can be reckless,” Sunghoon chimed in as though he had all the experience on earth about love.

“Are you sure this is worth it?” Jake continued, pointing his chopsticks at him.

“Guys,” Heeseung sighed, clapping his hand over Niki’s back. “Cut him some slack. If you think about it, he’s really lucky he’s even found someone to feel this way over.”

Niki was surprised by the way his oldest Hyung was defending him- but he didn’t react. He simply fell quiet.

“It’s a bit harsh to say love isn’t worth it,” Sunoo said to Jake. “You’re gonna hurt his feelings.”

“It’s better than getting in trouble,” Jake defended.

And as his Hyungs found their way into an argument, Niki couldn’t help the anger and annoyance that bubbled in him. He knew they were just looking out for him and they knew they were only saying all this because they cared about him. And to be honest, if another member was in the same situation as him, Niki would probably tell them to be careful as well. But most of his Hyungs didn’t care much about feelings- it was always about the rules and logic and the best thing to do. 

It seemed criminal to Niki, to look at you like you were a decision to be made over logic

He simply wanted to follow his heart.

“But I really like her,” he whispered and his voice was almost inaudible, easily drowning in the others’ voices. 

But they all heard him. And the table ceased into silence.

It started with a joke.

A joke about how the two of you were basically spies- cloaked and masked, passing coded messages, scheduling rendezvous in tucked-away cafés and back entrances. You’d laughed about it, brushing the idea off like it wasn’t starting to wear on you. The secrecy was necessary, but exhausting. And somehow, the more time you spent with Niki, the more suffocating the masks felt.

So when he said, half-joking, “Let’s get a hotel room next time. Somewhere we can actually breathe,” you’d rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead- but you didn’t say no.

And that’s how you ended up here, hours later, in a dimly lit hotel room in the quiet part of town- no cameras, no curious eyes, no managers on call. Just you, Niki, and the slow humming silence between you.

You stood by the window first, arms crossed loosely over your chest as the city glowed outside. From this far up, it all looked gentle- like the world had quieted just for the two of you.

Behind you, he was taking off his hoodie, shaking out his hair.

You turned when you heard the soft thud of fabric hitting the floor, and for the first time, you saw him- really saw him. No cap tugged low, no mask, no layers of fabric hiding the sharp lines of his jaw or the soft curve of his mouth.

It was Niki. Just Riki.

And he was beautiful in a way that felt almost fragile in the quiet.

He blinked at you, unsure for a second, like maybe he was waiting for your reaction. You swallowed.

“Seeing you like this feels so different,” you said, voice almost a whisper.

He laughed, low and quiet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do I look disappointing?”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “You look… like you.”

A beat. Then he looked up at you- really looked- and for a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just stared, like this was a kind of discovery. Like you’d uncovered something sacred.

“Your turn,” he said gently.

You hesitated, then peeled off your cap and tugged the mask down from your face. You suddenly felt bare, like being seen would split you open.

But Niki stepped closer.

He didn’t say anything dramatic or poetic. He just said, softly, “Hi.”

And you smiled. “Hi.”

You didn’t remember who leaned in first- maybe it was him, maybe it was you- but soon your foreheads were pressed together, breath mingling between you. There was no urgency, no rush. Just warmth.

His hand found yours.

“You make me nervous,” he murmured.

You looked up at him. “Why?”

He shrugged, thumb brushing your knuckles. “Because… this feels real. And I’m not used to real things lasting.”

You opened your mouth to respond but couldn’t find the right words. So instead, you stepped forward and hugged him.

He held you back like he’d been waiting to do it forever.

It was the kind of embrace that said everything your mouths were too shy to admit. The kind of closeness that made time stall. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest. 

And then he pulled back just enough to look at you again- and he kissed you.

It was soft at first, really gentle. A question more than a declaration. But when you didn’t pull away, his fingers found the side of your face, and he kissed you again- deeper this time.

It wasn’t just physical. It felt like trust.

Your hands moved on their own- sliding up to his shoulders, burying into the fabric of his shirt. He smiled against your mouth and leaned into you like gravity was tugging him forward.

And then you both started laughing. Quiet, breathless laughter against each other’s mouths.

“This is crazy,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“But I don’t want to stop.”

He looked at you like you’d given him permission to breathe.

“Neither do I.”

“We kissed,” Niki shut the door behind him faster than he’d pushed Jay into his room.

“What?” Jay blinked, struggling to comprehend.

“We kissed- like, solid, made out,” Niki breathed and carded his hands through his hair. Suddenly he couldn’t look at his Hyung anymore, a bit embarrassed. His cheeks turned red.

“You kissed?” Jay blinked again, mouth hanging agape. His thin lips curled into surprise, then disbelief, followed by confusion. “What?”

“We booked out a hotel room-”

“You what?”

Niki immediately regretted the way he phrased it, immediately letting his hands fly in front of him in defense. “No, no, it’s not like that-”

“Do you have absolutely any idea how inappropriate this is Nishimura Riki?” Jay started- and his scolding didn’t stop. He pointed his finger at Niki in a warning- he was actually scary this time. “Do you have any idea what will happen if the management finds out? Fuck that, when your parents find out this siw ho you’ve become, booking out hotel rooms for girls, they’re gonna whoop your ass-”

“It’s not like that!” Niki yelled, almost whined. “I’m not taking advantage of her here- I’m being serious, Hyung. I really like this girl.”

At that, Jay closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a ragged breath. “What’s your plan, Niki?”

Niki’s eyes lit up, hope building in his chest. Because, even if it was one Hyung, it meant there was some sort of support he was receiving right? And perhaps Jay could convince the rest of the members to help him out- take pity on him, the youngest, to maybe get the girl and keep her in secret.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m gonna do everything in my power to make this work.”

“Alright,” Jay sighed again.

Just then, Jake entered the room, unbeknownst to the conversation happening. He was holding a sweater in his hand, one that belonged to Niki. “You left this in my room- oh,” he looked between the two, wide eyed and surprised. “Am I disturbing something?”

Niki shook his head violently. “No-”

“It’s about Y/N, don’t worry,” Jay rolled his eyes. 

Niki groaned.

Jake’s eyes widened further. “What now?”

“They kissed,” Jay said.

“Hyung-”

“And he’s whipped.”

Jake chuckled. “You’re sure about this?” He asked, gaze fixed on Niki. Jake Hyung was usually the funny one, always light hearted but he had his moments where he took charge- made the decisions, weighed the pros and cons.

“Yes,” Niki raised his chin firmly.

“Alright.”

“Guess what?” Niki came running to you in excitement, finally catching sight of you near the cafe you agreed to visit. 

You google at his enthusiasm. “What?”

“I told my members.”

You froze, staring at the boy in front of you- the boy who was towering over you, bending his neck to hear you better, a smile spread behind his mask. “What?”

“I told them,” he said. “About us.”

You blinked. “What… what did they say?”

“A lot,” Niki nodded. “All their MBTI is type T except for Sunoo Hyung. They were all scared and concerned-”

“Very valid.”

“But I want you, Y/N,” he sighed, almost like it was prayer. “I want this- I think… I think this- you and I- it means something bigger.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[alexanderlightweight]

Hello! Happy Wednesday

I loved the birthday fic so much 😢 it was the perfect level of both hurt and comfort.

If you have any interest, I would love to see a continuation of this fic! It could be a year later, magnus' birthday, outside pov on the fic, magnus handling the next izzy "suggestion" in a different way, etc etc

Really just anything!!! Thanks 💛💛💛

it has been quite a bit, here is the birthday fic for those wondering. this is uh, no angst in this one. just Magnus being Magnus ^_^ and Alec being his Alexander.

i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

-

the beauty of knowing

Magnus is prepared this year.

Alexander is understandably wary but the thing is, Magnus knows what he’s doing now and Alexander trusts him.

Despite the failure of last year and Magnus’ desperate — and successful — attempts to salvage it.

When Isabelle shows up with her big pleading doe-eyes and an invitation to brunch, Magnus goes along with it, knowing this time just what he's getting himself into.

When she starts talking to him about Alec and his birthday and how to fix the disaster of the year before and shows him practically a file of plans that she’s concocted, he goes along with it.

All of it.

Including the part where he lets her talk him into something big and grand and extravagant.  

“Just so long as it doesn’t start too early, Isabelle. I have my own plans for Alexander before you 

Because Magnus is just as petty as he is bold and he’s been waiting an entire year to pay Isabelle back.

True, Magnus made his own mistakes but they were ones born from misunderstandings and worry and personal anxiety, not over-bearance and assuming one is correct even after being proven wrong.

“I’ll leave the planning to you and Jace, you leave distracting Alexander to me. I’ll ensure he’s in a much better mood this time.”

Magnus winks and portals away and very loudly sighs, dramatic as he steps through into the living room and collapses on top of Alexander.

Who is rather conveniently, still where Magnus left him.  Even if he’s finished the carafe of juice, the plate of the snacks and what looks like the first book in the series Magnus introduced him to last night.

“Good brunch?” 

Alexander is wary, not because Magnus met with Isabelle, but because his birthday is near. While they haven’t outright spoken about since they resolved it all between them, the year before hangs over them still.

“Oh, it was splendid. Delicious food, bottomless mimosas and I even got in a few moments of explaining we already had plans. Isabelle listened to them for a bit, pretended to like them but thought we should save them for a future empty weekend and showed me a file of what her plans are. To be honest it sounds more like an excuse to create a distraction for herself, Simon and Jace. Through you and because of my connections.”

Alexander blinks at him and sighs but motions for him to continue as Magnus gets comfy on his handsome and rather sturdy but not exactly squishy shadowhunter.

“So I told her to do whatever she liked, as long as she’s in charge of the planning of it. I even offered her an empty room at Pandemonium.”

“And.” 

Because Alexander is frowning, but not in frustration because he thinks Magnus is making the same mistake over again. But in curiosity because he can’t quite figure out the angle Magnus is pulling yet.

But it thrills Magnus to see how much Alexander trusts and knows him.

“And she’ll have a lovely party with plenty of people to mingle with. Unfortunately, due to conflicts in schedule, the High Warlock of Brooklyn and Head of the Institute will be unavailable and stuck elsewhere, unable to make an appearance.”

Alexander blinks at him — slowly.

Then a grin, warm and soft and so very sweet spreads across his face.

“Just pretend you have no idea that she’s planning a surprise and I’ll continue to pretend that I plan on surprising you and Isabelle is the one who will actually be surprised.” Magnus boops Alexander’s nose with a spark of magic and presses harder against his boy.

Alexander’s laugh is a delightful victory and Magnus resolves to be even pettier in the future, because he will do anything and everything to protect this quiet intimacy between them.

“So just us? And what we want to do this year? No interruptions?" Alexander is practically vibrating with contented excitement and it only works to further enthuse Magnus.

“Just us because it’s what you want. This year and every year. Even if someday you don’t wish for me to join you, I will still ensure your birthday is how you want it. Even if it means portaling you somewhere for just your own perusal.”

“Really?” Alexander’s amusement turns to sheer incredulity. “You? Magnus, would just let me go somewhere like that? All by myself. Without you?”

Magnus hesitates, because perhaps he is promising more than he can follow through with and Alexander laughs again and kisses his hair and then tries to contort to kiss his cheek and nearly topples them both off of the couch. 

“Fine, I’ll portal you to somewhere deserted and leave you mostly alone while keeping an eye on you with magic. Fair?” 

Magnus can’t help the way he grumbles about it because really, he’s trying to work with Alexander here and all he gets is laughter. 

And another kiss and Alexander finally shifts in a way that means Magnus is sprawled out across him rather than trying to wedge between him and the couch.  There is magick for an easier time but Magnus has missed his boy and the feel of their bodies touching.

“That sounds far more reasonable and yet I don’t see me wanting you to make plans like that anytime soon, if ever. So then, the real plans?”

Magnus is gleefully delighted because, after they’d talked about it and as a show of trust, Alexander had decided to simply tell Magnus a series of things he’d most likely enjoy and let him plan it.

With veto power before it actually happened, this first time.

Considering how Alexander’s birthday went last year, Magnus is fine with that very reasonable concession.

“At first, I was thinking we could go back to that sushi restaurant we went to, the one where you had fatty tuna for the first time.” Alexander hums, something pleased but not necessarily completely interested. Which is good because Magnus has different ideas now, “however we also go there at least once every three months.”

Alexander presses a kiss to his cheek in fond laughter because yes, they do on Alec's request.

“So instead, I’ll have an order of all of your favorites from various places. Ready to be snapped over at a moment's notice or craving. Furthermore, I’ve secured four days of leave with Mirai where all of your duties will be taken over by your team and Ragnor has cleared up one of my cottages in Ireland and stocked it with the necessities. All we’ll need to do is portal over. You'll literally be unreachable and while Isabelle thinks we'll be portaling in, alas. You shall be in my dastardly clutches and untracable.”

Alexander pauses from where he’s pressing another kiss to Magnus’ cheek, “you cleared four days off of my work schedule. With Mirai so that I didn’t have to be involved?”

For a moment Magnus wonders if he's overstepped in this particular aspect and then he’s been rolled and pinned to the couch.

All of Alexander’s earlier clumsiness is gone as he looks at Magnus with wide, awed eyes.

“You got me time off, without me having to spend hours fighting for it with the Clave?”

Magnus nods and that's about all he manages before Alexander is kissing him.

Eagerly, ravenously, as if Magnus is everything he needs to survive in life.

So therefore.

Intervening in between Alexander in the Clave is not a problem for his boy.

Not at all.

-

AN:

Magnus and Alec have had a lot of conversations and one of them is also Magnus is allowed to take petty and social vengeance on Izzy and Jace for taking advantage of his trust in them and his anxiety at not knowing what Alexander liked properly or if shadowhunters had traditions he might miss etc.

magnus is very proud of himself and alec is very delighted by how clever Magnus is. there is a lot of mutual competency appreciation here.

yes they'll go out exploring and portaling across the world, but every time they go to sleep they'll end up somewhere just the two of them, growing more familiar with it by day with open hills of green, no demons or shadowhunters or concrete in sight. just magical creatures, a half-wild garden and a cottage made from magic.

[trippiexlove]

Story Masterlist

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Previous Part

Ch. 2

Today was another stressful day for Evren of dealing with patients and running around like her head was cut off. She took a quick moment to sit at the nurses station next to Zahria. She pulled out her phone for what felt like the hundredth time today.

"You been checking your phone all day," Zahria turned from typing on the computer looking at her.

"Nothing, it's-" she hesitated, trying to figure out if she wanted to tell her best friend or not "well you know how last week you joked saying I needed to write someone in jail"

"yeah-" Zahria eyes widen slowly "wait, you did it?!"

Evren nodded her head, Giselle letting out a squeal "Girl it's not that serious"

"Who is it? Did he write back?" Zahria was now completely turned around facing her, eager for her to answer her questions. 

Evren chuckled lowly at her friend, "his name is Josh and no he hasn't wrote me back yet"

"How long has it been since you wrote him?"

"It's been a couple weeks. I've been checking my messages everyday since"

"Maybe something happened," Zahria shrugged her shoulders "do you have a picture of him?"

"Yeah" She pulled up a picture showing her, whose eyes widen. 

"Damn sis he is fine" she grabbed her phone looking at Josh's profile "what the hell he do to land him 15 years?"

Evren shrugged her shoulder a bit "I have no idea, I wanted to ask when I first sent the message but I didn't want to seem pushy. I want him to tell me on his own" soon the familiar chimes of the intercom came on, paging Evren

She grabbed her phone from Zahria sighing, placing it back into her pocket. "Hopefully he writes back soon"

Evren nodded in agreement before walking off in the direction she needed to go.

Evren sighed as she walked into her house, taking her shoes off at the door. She dropped her keys onto the foyer table, bypassing the living room and kitchen heading straight up the stairs. She went into bathroom turning on the shower.

She hopped in taking a quick shower and doing her night routine. She threw an oversized shirt and put her bonnet on. As soon as her head hit the pillow her phone dinged. She was going to ignore it but she felt an urge to check it.

New Message from: Fatu, Joshua #1759

She sat up quick, in disbelief he wrote back. She clicked on the notification reading over the message. 

What's up ma

I apologize it took so long to write back, shits been real hectic in here. I appreciate you writing me. Evren is it? You'll have to tell me how to pronounce it one day. My name Josh but I go by Jey.  I'm 39, I'm from Florida but live out here in Georgia and I'm a twin. 

Now that we got most of the basics out the way, I hope to hear about those cliche things soon. I'll be looking for it.

Jey

She felt like a high school girl who just got a note from her crush. She quickly typed a reply back to him before locking her phone and letting sleep wash over her.

It was another day in the cell block, everyone sitting in their own space in the common area. Jey sitting with his usual group he hung around. Sami, Xavier and Kofi. 

They were playing cards while Jey sat back observing everybody. 

"Yo Uce you hoppin' in on a game" Xavier shuffled the cards preparing for the next game. 

Jey shook his head slightly "nah I'm good" his focus landed on somebody walking over and standing right in front of him. 

"Well look who's back from the hole" Jey looked at the young dude, who goes by Bron. He crossed his arms as he stared down Jey. 

Jey sat back unphased keeping a straight face "and look who's back from the infirmary," he eyes the fresh cut and bruise on the side of his face "how's your face feeling" 

Bron expression soon turned sour taking a step towards him. "You think you're funny huh?" 

Jey slowly stood out his seat, coming eye to eye. "I don't think I'm funny, but if you keep testin' me that black eye ain't gonna be the only thing you gon' worry bout" 

Bron gave him one last look before huffing, walking away. Jey shook his head before a guard came up to him. "Fatu, it's your time to go check your mail" 

Jey nodded before being escorted over to the area they can make calls and send messages to family. 

He sat down at the computer putting in his information. He saw he had a few messages, a couple from his brothers and a new one from, from Evren. He opened hers first reading the message. 

I'm glad you wrote back. For a second there I thought you wouldn't. I know you said you wanted to hear the cliche things about me so here's a few. I like to read, I love traveling and experiencing new things. And I love flowers doesn't matter what kind. 

I love that you're a twin. I don't have any siblings, since I was adopted at a young age. And before I forget I am a nurse. I work in the O.R. helping out with surgeries, and oversee patient post-care afterwards. I think that covers everything for me. Now what about you?

xo, Ren 

Jey couldn't help but be intrigued by Evren. It was something about her that he couldn't put a finger on quite yet. He didn't even know what the girl looked like. 

He typed out his message to her before replying back to his brothers. They were just sending him updates on certain things back home. Once he was done he headed back to the common area before they released everyone out to the yard.

Evren was on her lunch break with Zahria. The girls were at their favorite taco spot. 

"I swear if Dr. Rhodes don't stop hitting on me, I'm reporting his ass to HR" Zahria rolled her eyes as she took a bite out of her food. 

"His ass is a creep," Evren shook her head "I had to tell him bout himself the other day. Just kept flirting while doing a surgery, like focus on the patient not me" 

Her attention went to her phone signaling her she had a new message. She knew immediately who it was and grabbed her phone so fast. 

"Damn girl," Zahria couldn't help but laugh "who got you grabbing your phone like that?" 

A wide smile bloomed on Evren's face as she read the message. "It's Josh," she breathed, angling her phone so Zahria could see the screen.

I won't go that long again without writing back. Damn, you a nurse? How's that life? I know it gotta be hectic. I don't like to do much, but I definitely like to travel. That's the first thing I wanna do when I get out.

Having a twin ain't all that. His ass be getting on my nerves but we close at the end of the day. I got 5 other siblings, my twin and I the oldest. We come from a big ass family and we all close with each other. 

Jey

"He seems really down to Earth and really interested in you"

Evren looked at Zahria slightly blushing "You think so?"

Zahria smacked her teeth "Damn right, he would be crazy not to" 

"I don't know Zah," she slightly shook her head "we just started talking to one another"

Zahria shook her head no "I'm not saying y'all getting married tomorrow, just feel him out and see where it goes" she shrugged her shoulder, focusing back on her food.

Evren blew out a breath nodding. Sending Josh a message back. 

Glad you're ok. I can't imagine having 5 siblings. It must have been fun growing up. Since it was just me and my parents, never really had a large family. 

Being a nurse has its days. I enjoy what I do. The people I do it with, that's a whole different story. 

Is there a specific place you want to visit once you're released? 

She locked her phone putting it away in her purse. The friends enjoyed the rest of their lunch together before heading back to the hospital. Hours later, when Evren started her next set of rounds she felt her phone vibrate, seeing she had a new message from Josh.

Growing up in a big ass family has it challenges. I love everybody in my family, but they get on my damn nerves sometimes. So you ain't missin' out on nothin'. 

I hope you ain't overworkin' yourself. If anyone fuckin' with you just let me know. But to answer your question, I would love to just go where my family from. Samoa.

Evren smiled at the message. His last comment not going unnoticed. Putting her phone back in the pockets of her scrub. She had another surgery she had to scrub in with Dr. Rhodes. It was quick and simple and they were done in no time. She checked the time and seen it was nearing 7 as she scrubbed out. 

She felt a presence behind her, a hand being placed on her lower back. She quickly turned around seeing Dr. Rhodes, already smirking at her.

"Can I help you Dr. Rhodes?" She removed his hand from her back. Lifting and eyebrow at him.

"Please, I told you, you can call me Cody," his smile sent shivers down her spine, and not the good kind.

"I rather call you Dr. Rhodes" she tried to side step him but he got in her way again "Is there something I can help you with Dr. Rhodes?"

"Why in a rush? I know you're getting off early tonight and it just so happens so do I. I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner together"

Kairi politely smiled "Thank you for the offer but I will have a decline"

"Oh come on," he tried grabbing her hand but she pulled away before he could "don't be like that"

"Dr. Rhodes I hope you can understand," she narrowed her eyebrows a bit looking him up and down "this is strictly professional. I appreciate the invite but no thank you" She gave him a once over before leaving out the scrub room. 

She stopped by the nurse station to say bye to Zahria since she was staying her whole shift. "I'll see you later girl"

Zahria noticed the look of irritation on her face "You good?"

"Dr. Rhodes on his b.s. again," she rolled her eyes  "I swear I am about to report him to HR for harassment"

"Girl I will find him myself and cuss him out. Can't take no as an answer like the creep he is"

Evren shook her head "he's not even worth it so don't waste your time" she checked the time seeing it was a quarter pass 7 "let me get home, I'll see you later"

Zahria gave her a nod, giving her a hug as Evren made her way out. She quickly got to her car, making the quick drive home. 

She got inside, leaving her shoes and keys by the door. She rushed upstairs to take a quick shower, changing into an oversized shirt and shorts. She threw her bonnet on and getting in her bed before slowly falling asleep.

The gritty expanse of the rec yard was a familiar cage, the chain-link fence a constant reminder against the bruised twilight sky. Basketballs thumped a ragged rhythm, punctuated by the strained grunts of men pushing their bodies. Jey, usually a coiled spring on the makeshift court, found his focus fractured. He moved through the drills with Sami, his body going through the motions, but his mind kept snagging on the thought of Kairi.

Sami, ever the perceptive one, noticed the shift. He snagged the errant basketball, its worn leather familiar in his calloused hands. "You're off today, uce," he observed, a knowing glint in his eye as he watched his friend wipe sweat with the edge of his faded t-shirt. "What got your head in the clouds? Finally dreaming of that gourmet prison grub they keep promising?"

Jey scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched with a private amusement. "Nah, nothin' like that." His gaze drifted for a fleeting second towards the distant, imposing walls before snapping back to Sami.

"Something's got you distracted," Sami persisted, his tone laced with playful curiosity. "You missed that pass I teed up for you. That's like you missing a free meal."

A small smile touched Jey's lips. "Just something happened the other day."

Sami's eyebrows arched. "Random in here usually involves contraband or a new set of rules from the guards. Spill it."

Jey hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "I got a message from someone."

"A message?" Sami bounced the basketball idly. "From who? Your lawyer finally remember your name?"

Jey rolled his eyes. "Man quit playin'. Just… someone."

"Ooh, 'someone'," Sami drawled, his smirk widening. 

A hint of defensiveness entered Jey's voice. "Nah, nothing like that. I won't expectin' it."

"Oh really?" Sami leaned in conspiratorially. "Somebody caught your attention, huh?"

Jey let out a soft sigh. "Look, I put up a profile on one of those pen pal sites, you know? Didn't really expect anythin' to come of it."

Sami's eyebrows shot up. "No way! You? Mr. 'I don't need nobody' actually put yourself out there?"

Jey shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Shit, I was bored so why not? Anyway a girl reached out." Jey sighed, knowing he fucked up letting it slip.

"A girl?" Sami's smirk widened. "Well, well, well. Look who's finally making connections. What's her name?"

"Aye keep your voice down uce," Jey said quickly, looking around. "But I can't tell you all that. We been talkin' for a minute now."

"Talking how?" Sami pressed, his curiosity piqued. "Letters? Or you finally figured out how to work that dumbass computer in the library?"

"Messages, mostly," Jey replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "but that's all I'm tellin' you, already told yo' ass too much"

"Messages with a girl you met on a pen pal site," Sami repeated slowly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Protective already, huh? You haven't even met her in person, and you're already guarding her like she's the last phone call you get this month."

Jey shoved Sami playfully on the shoulder. "Shut up, man. It's not like that."

"Alright, alright," Sami conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender. "My lips are sealed. For now. But you know I'm going to be all over this later. A pen pal! You sly dog. You gotta tell me more bout her."

Jey shook his head, a small, private smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he bounced the basketball with a renewed focus, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Sami watched him, a knowing and amused expression lingering on his face, the unspoken questions hanging between them in the fading light of the rec yard. 

They continued playing ball til they heard the familiar whistle being blown. Signaling their time in the rec yard coming to an end. 

Previous Part

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[staargxzer]

𓂃　 ⁺ ₊ full throttleˊ˗

chapter one ; psychopomp

⭒ synopsis ᵎ 〜 it was supposed to be just another late night in a garage that smelled like oil and rust. but then she showed up. car looking like hellfire, grimy tank top, eyes like she's been to places most don't come back from. ellie williams drags you into the underworld of street racing. she races like she's got a death wish. fast, reckless, and alone. you're the right person in the wrong seat and the only shot she's got left. ⭒ content ᵎ 〜 street racer!ellie x mechanic!reader . afab reader . modern au . brief mention of weed . whole lot of tension ⭒ word count ᵎ 〜 3.6k ⭒ notes ᵎ 〜 will have smut eventually. im still not entirely happy with this but i promised this chapter and im already late enough! will be working on chapter two as soon as i can!

It was a year of sunset-glazed rooftop gardens and broken air conditioning units — July of 2039. These warmer months brought along flowers and harvest, but they also dragged pollen and mosquitoes with them. No one’s ever grateful for the winter cold until allergies kick in, and the summer heat is never welcomed until you’re held up in the frozen snow, shivering violently in a downpour of ice. You were standing over a flashy Mazda MX-5, working to swap the engine with that of a Supra’s 2JZ. Chapped flecks of white paint were peeling onto your jeans, and you briefly wondered if car wrap services should be your next side hustle. The harsh smell of the garage was something you weren’t sure you’d ever grow accustomed to. It was greasy floors, flickering fluorescent lighting that threatened to fall from the sky at any minute, the tinge of burnt rubber. There wasn’t anyone left there with you, not at this time of night. They had all cleared out long ago, but you were never the type to discard a project you had already started. Especially when you knew you could finish it if you just gave it another hour.

You hear it before you see it, the sharp rattle of a ruined car sliding into your garage like it owned the entire world. Right then, only one of two things could occur: 1. the sun explodes in a bright white blasting fury across the entire earth and boils you dead, or 2. you’re forced to stay a whole lot later than you initially planned for. You’ve placed your bet on option two. A matte black Nissan 240SX, complete with a faded red stripe that wrapped around the midsection. It was full of makeshift repairs– duct tape holding up the front bumper, scrapes covered by black sharpie. The kind of thing you’d see on a first-time driver’s car. While you weren’t too well-versed in the street racing underworld, it certainly doesn’t take an idiot to see that this car has been in a race (or twenty). The left side sank down heavy to the floor, surely the cause of that incessant rattle and a definite sign of a shot suspension. You squinted into the deeply tinted windshield, searching for any sign of life beneath glass. You tried to imagine who could be driving such a thing: a tall, skinny man, dark brown hair that is just beginning to gray at the edges, ratty unkempt beard framing his chiseled jawline.

That’s not who comes out.

Instead, it’s her. Stained wife beater, jeans one size too big, converse that are falling apart at the seams, and sun-touched auburn hair cut back into a harsh mullet that framed the freckles dotting across her face.

“Hey,” she said, as if this was normal. As if she was always rolling up to random mechanics with her car sounding like judgement day had come.

You should’ve told her to leave. Should’ve said you were closed and to come back tomorrow. But something about the look in her eyes caught your attention, made you feel like you were the last chance she had. So, you scoffed right back. “Hey?”

“You fix cars or just stand there looking confused?” Her voice was deep and tired, but weirdly sharp. Everything about her screamed trouble. 

“Right now?” You glanced down at your watch. The neon green letters flashed tauntingly back at you: 11:27pm. Yeah, option two was looking real possible right now.

The girl merely shrugged, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her sagging jeans. “If not, I’ll find someone else.”

As much as you hated to admit it, her words lit a flicker of irritation in your chest. It felt like a challenge. Like she was saying you couldn’t do it. “I didn’t say no.”

The corner of her mouth twisted up into a smirk– quick, you couldn’t help but think that she didn't mean for you to catch it. “Didn’t sound like much of a yes either.”

You tossed the oily rag you kept in your waistband up onto the workbench, wiping your palms against your thighs one last time for good measure. “Depends how bad you screwed it up. Looks like you drive this thing like you hate it.”

“I get that a lot,” she said, not even blinking. “But it still runs. That’s gotta count for a little bit of brownie points, right?”

“We’ll see.” You shook your head, stepping around her to reach the wreck she called a car. You stole a glance into the open passenger side window as you sauntered around. The dash was cracked, the glove box hanging by hopes and dreams. You took note of the roll cage, the lack of backseats, the rather bare interior. Definitely a racer. A faded out sticker on the rearview mirror caught your eye: if you can read this, i’m already gone.

Outside, tires screeched and a woman screamed. Just background noise in this part of the city. The overhead lights buzzed like angry mosquitoes and you flicked on the beaten radio to drown out the uncomfortable background noise. Static, then a guitar riff, then the sound of a man’s voice. 

Well, come and get it now–

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here in a dingy garage so late at night?” Her voice was pure tease now.

“Flattery’s not gonna make me work faster,” you quipped, flashing her a glare over your shoulder.

“Didn’t say I was trying to be fast,” she said, trailing after you with her hands still deep in her pockets, lazily strolling along like she all of a sudden had all the time in the world. Like she didn’t just disturb your entire night.

You grinned, looking back over your shoulder again with a mischievous glint now dancing in your eyes. “Good. ‘Cause judging by your suspension, you’re not great at going fast anyway.”

She chuckled, low and rough and warm all at once. “Touché.”

You circled back around to the front of the car, crouching down to the concrete floor to get a better look at the sagging frame. She leaned against the matte black hood, arms crossed, watching you with a heat that roasted your skin. You fought to not stare at her arms. The muscle dragged you in, and some part of you longed to trace your fingers along her tattoo. 

“You never told me your name.”

“Williams. Ellie Williams.” Her tone was casual, short. It held a louche quality that hinted at depravity. You yearned to know more, but you held your tongue. “You?”

“___.”

There was something electric hanging in the air now, humming under the harsh buzz of the fluorescent garage lights. You wiped your hands on your jeans again, more to keep busy now than anything else.

“Suspension’s fucked,” you said finally, tapping the left side of the hood. “I’d bet you bottomed out hard. Frame’s probably cracked too… if you were lucky enough to hit a curb instead of some other racer.”

Ellie gave a low whistle. “Bottomed out hard, huh?” she repeated, pushing off her car slow and easy until she was standing just a little too close. Close enough that you could smell the vague scent of gasoline and something sharp-sweet on her. Leather, maybe, and smoke. “I’ve heard that before.”

A blush passed over your cheeks and your heart threatened to sink down into your stomach. You breathed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

She lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused at your fidgeting. You let the blush take over as you popped the hood, the overbearing smell of hot oil engulfing your senses almost immediately. Ellie moved to be at your side, her shoulders brushing yours as she leaned in for a look.

“Something wrong there too?” she asked.

“You sure you wanna know?” you were the one teasing now, giving her a sideways glance.

Ellie shrugged, accompanied with a lazy tilt of her head. “Already here. Might as well hear all the bad news.”

You rattled off a condensed list. Bent control arm, possible steering rack damage, probable oil leak. She just nodded along like you were reciting a grocery list and she was your incompetent husband.

“No big deal,” she sighed, her breathing ragged and uneven. “How long will it take to fix?”

You stared at her, struggling to hide the dumbfounded look plastered across your face. “You’re either incredibly rich or incredibly stupid.”

She smirked. “Why not both?”

That pulled a breathy laugh out of you before you could stop it. A real one, not the hollow kind you gave old men trying to sweet-talk their way into a discount.

“Give me an hour to tear it down,” you said, stepping back and wiping the sweat that had accumulated on your brow. “See if it’s worth saving, then another to fix it.”

Ellie nodded, but it didn’t seem like she was really listening all too well. She leaned her hip against the workbench, freckled arms crossed over her grimy shirt, staring at you like you were the main event and it wasn’t at all a possibility that she could lose her car.

“You’re not gonna hover the whole time, are you?” you coughed, fake annoyance dripping from your teeth.

“Maybe,” She grinned fully this time. Lazy, cocky, dangerous even. “Unless you can’t handle a little pressure.”

You snorted under your breath and ducked your head back into the engine bay, hiding the stupid smile that was threatening to spread across your face.

“Trust me,” you muttered, “you’re not that scary.”

Ellie leaned down to meet you under the propped-up hood, hovering her lips just beside your ear. The feeling of her breath careening down your neck made you shiver.

“You haven’t seen me drive.”

The next two hours passed in a blur of wrenches, grease stains, and the sharp intensity of Ellie’s gaze burning into the back of your neck. She didn’t hover, not exactly, she lingered. She rarely spoke, just leaned against the bench or paced slow circles around the garage, an unlit joint dangling from her lips. Every time you turned to grab a tool, there she was, tossing it to you without a second thought. Each time your fingers would brush she’d smile like she had just won a point, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

At some point, you stopped pretending not to notice.

You slammed the hood closed, a lot harder than necessary, and tried to shake the uncomfortable heat prickling on the back of your neck.

“You’re good to go,” you said, tossing a rag onto the bench beside Ellie. “Mostly.”

Ellie shoved off the wall, sauntering over to you until she was all in your space again. Not that you moved away. “Mostly,” she repeated, that familiar grin spreading across her face. “That your professional opinion?”

“Professional opinions are extra,” you grinned back, taunting.

She chuckled low under her breath, eyes flickering over you in a way that made your entire body tense up. Slow, less like she was sizing you up and more like she wanted to memorize your every curve.

“Good thing I’m a generous tipper,” she said, her voice dipping a little lower.

“Treat it like glass,” you said, tugging at your shirt collar uncomfortably. “Or you’ll be back in a week and it’ll be a whole hell of a lot worse.”

“Good,” her eyes were suddenly serious, a dark look crossing her face in a way that made your pants almost fall clean off your hips. “Was planning on coming back anyway.”

You raised a brow. “Yeah? What else you need?”

She shrugged, a casual but deliberate movement. You could tell she was trying to seem cool. It was kind of cute. “A mechanic.”

“...You offering me a job?”

“Depends,” she spoke carefully, stepping in closer. The air between you crackled with electricity. “You any good at fixing more than busted suspensions?”

Before you could answer she had stepped back, grabbing a pen off of your bench and taking your hand in hers. Her touch made you buzz and you watched intensely as she messily scribbled her number onto your palm in dry black ink. She dotted the “i” in her name with a heart.

“Think about it,” she said, tossing her keys up and catching them one-handed, the metallic clink ringing out in the otherwise quiet garage. “Might be the best bad decision you ever make.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The air was thick with the smell of exhaust, burnt rubber, and pure, unabashed adrenaline. Neon lights glared off of chrome-polished fenders as nearly over a dozen cars lined the abandoned shipping yard, idling like predators waiting for prey. Engines revved and music blared from someone’s speakers. Half the crowd buzzed with pre-race excitement, the other half just buzzed.

Pulling your hoodie tighter around your face, you stepped into the crowd. You had left your own car further away like Ellie had instructed you. It was much less impressive among the racers’, a plush blue Volvo 240 Turbo. Understated, beat down to hell, but modded up to god and back. You grabbed the metal toolbox out of your passenger side, the cold handle grounding you in a way that felt anything but solid.

You had never attended a street race before. You’ve heard of them, sure, even modded a few cars for some, but never actually been to one. You didn’t dress for it, didn’t plan for it, just showed up. Ellie had texted you the location, didn’t say anything else about it– not that you asked.

A familiar rumble cut your thoughts short. It was a low, unapologetic grumble that definitely turned heads in the crowd. It seemed Ellie had a reputation. You turned just in time to see her car slide beside you, the engine purring a whole lot smoother than the last time you heard it. Your handiwork, still holding strong. Somehow.

Ellie stepped out like she owned the place, something you were starting to realize was a normal behaviour for her. She was donned in the same stained jeans as before, this time with a couple new oil smudges. A bright red cropped leather jacket was covering up her old stained wife beater, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her forearm muscles and faded tattoo. You watched closely as her eyes scanned the crowd before locking onto you. Something gleamed in her eyes. Relief, maybe. Moreso amusement.

“You showed up,” she said, strolling over with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets with a feigned air of no fucks given.

You shrugged lazily, trying not to smile. Trying not to give her that satisfaction. “You said you needed a mechanic.”

Ellie nodded slowly, lower lip twitching like she was fighting not to speak her mind. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Yeah, well,” you responded, setting your toolbox down beside her front tire, “I guess I make a lot of bad decisions.”

She grinned, wide and reckless, a strand of her auburn hair falling in front of her eyes. “Perfect,” she drawled, “You’ll fit right in.”

Suddenly, the crowd fell silent, the music that thumped from someone’s trunk was shut off, and an air of competitiveness fogged your senses. Ellie leaned across the hood of her car, eyes glazed over with excitement and a hint of menace. “Flags drop in ten. You might want to hurry it up, little miss mechanic.”

You weren’t entirely sure what flags down meant, but you were sure that it wasn’t time to ask questions. You dropped to your knees, kneeling beside the front wheel. Your fingers brushed the brake rotor.

“These things are whispering their last words,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Ellie pulled a toothpick out of her pocket and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly. You couldn’t help but think how she looked like a llama. “Then tell ‘em to scream louder.”

You shot her a look over your shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re about to be a nightmare to keep alive.”

She only grinned in response. That signature, stupidly charming Ellie grin. She continued to stare at you with an infuriatingly calm gaze as you popped the hood one last time, eyes scanning the turbo lines. Then, you wiped your hands clean on a rag you had tucked into your belt.

“Fluids topped, pressure’s solid, clutch might hate you by the end of it.” You slammed the hood shut with a smirk. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

Ellie stepped towards you, still grinning wildly. “You always this sexy before a race?”

You raised a brow, feigning vexation. “You want sexy, go find someone that doesn’t know what a brake pad is.”

Her grin turned crooked, it somehow made her even more attractive. “Aw man, but none of them look half as good leaning over an engine.”

Before you even got a chance to fire back someone was yelling from across the lot. “Engine’s hot! You’ve got thirty seconds to line up, and don’t come crying to me when you get smoked!”

She turned to her car, toothpick now discarded on the asphalt, hands already gripping the door handle. “Next time, you ride with me.”

Then she was gone. You watched as she slid up to the starting line, your eyes transfixed on the smoke that pooled out underneath her car and evaporated into the air. The crowd was screaming now, voltaic above the war cries of the engines. The spotters hunched over the overpass began to shift. Your heartbeat reverberated off your eardrums and threatened to hop out of your chest entirely. You blinked, and they were gone. Ellie disappeared around a bend with her tail lights flickering like a cigarette in the dark. You’d never seen anyone drive like that before. All you could think to do was hold your breath.

At first, it was just one siren. Just one, thin and far off. The crowd shifts, anxiety rippling through the crowd and boiling the water around you.

Then the world exploded in red and blue. People screamed around you, but for an entirely different reason now. There’s movement all around you, folding chairs falling and people scrambling to climb chain link fences. You turn to run, but there’s nowhere to go. For a moment, you felt the sickening feeling of being trapped.

Then you hear it– tires drifting in the gravel. A black shape was barreling out of the smoke, angled right toward you. Before you could even think to move there was a passenger door flying open and a familiar face staring you down.

“In. Now.”

You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Just dived in, half-falling into the passenger seat as the air behind you is completely swallowed by flashing lights.

Ellie was white-knuckled around the steering wheel as you shot forward and sliced through the night.

“You came back,” you say, breath coming out uneven and shaky.

City lights blurred past as the two of you skidded between two factory buildings, into an alley that was much too narrow for your comfort. The engine roared as she switched from third to fourth to third again, riding the clutch like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Behind you, someone’s bumper crunches into a brick wall.

“Couldn’t leave you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together as she tried to focus, eyes scanning for any possible exit. Any way to get you back to safety. Ellie was burning with recklessness now, she was in her element. You’re completely entranced as she maneuvers the car with such finesse that it almost scares you. Almost. She curses and yanks at the wheel, sending you slamming into the door and ricocheting off your seat. Ellie glances over at you, partly apologetically and mostly with arrogance. The emergency brake is dropped and the car is sent drifting between two green dumpsters. You clutch the handle above your head to avoid being sent tumbling around the car again.

Ellie shuts the car off with a harsh click and you finally let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. She drops her seat down, with you following suit in the movement. Smoke was pouring out of the hood now, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought of you needing to do more repairs so soon.

It’s silent for a while, the two of you intently listening to the sound of the sirens disappearing into the city. Until, finally, Ellie’s voice tears through the tension.

“You shouldn’t go back to your car until tomorrow. Place’ll still be crawling with pigs.” She didn’t look at you when she said it, eyes still focused on the ceiling of her car. “You can crash at mine.”

You glance at her, blinking rapidly. Crash? At hers? You thought back to when you had first met Ellie in your garage. Back when you wouldn’t have ever expected to be running from police with a girl who looked like hell had sent her back.

“If you want,” she says after you’re quiet for too long, shyer this time.

You nod in response, still not trusting your voice to not break at the first syllable. The corner of her mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but on the edge of one. Neither of you speak as the engine hums to life and you peel out of the alley.

You can’t help but feel like you just crossed a line you won’t be able to uncross.

⭒ taglist ᵎ 〜 @mayanneaa

[awhitehead17]

Sit Tight

TimKon, Established Relationship, Humour, Fluff.

Summary: Tim has to deal with a restless Kon on a long haul flight.

Enjoy! :D

He hasn’t said anything, but the signs are obvious. From his peripheral Tim can see how the divider between their seats is constantly going up and down and how it has been doing so for the last ten minutes. If that wasn’t a clear sign then the huffing, puffing and over exaggerated sighing are the other signs.  

Letting out a breath Tim places down his tablet on the seat table in front of him, leans back and looks to his left. Kon is slumped over, using one arm to prop his head up as he vividly watches the divider attract and retract.  

“Kon.” 

Like a puppy, Kon perks up and beams happily once he realises he finally has Tim’s attention on him.  

“Hey Tim...” Kon drawls out, also leaning back against his chair and smiling innocently like he hadn't been trying to get Tim's attention for the last hour.  

Tim sighs shaking his head. “If you’re that bored, watch a film, or take a nap, or order a meal. I don't know Kon, I’m sure you can entertain yourself for the next eight hours or so.” 

He knows it’s a long flight; there’s no denying that. It’s not like it’s Tim’s first choice either, but it is what it is. Kon wanted to tag along and being stuck on a plane for nearly twelve hours is the consequence of tagging along and while Tim appreciates the company, it’s not his fault Kon didn't think it through.  

Groaning Kon throws his head back. “I'm bored though! Why do we have to do this! It would have been quicker for me to fly us instead.”  

Reaching over Tim takes Kon’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezes. “I know, but there will be people at the airport expecting a Tim Drake-Wayne. I can’t get away with not showing up after all the arrangements have been made.”  

Kon gives him a pointed a look. “Exactly. You’re Tim Drake-Wayne, you could make it work!”  

Bringing their joined hands to his lips Tim kisses the back of Kon’s and drops them again. “Not this time.”  

Kon groans again and goes quiet. A moment passes and just as Tim thinks Kon’s moved on, his boyfriend squeezes his hand grabbing his attention again.  

“Hey.” With the way he says it both with a leer and a pause has Tim slightly worried for what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Wanna join the mile high club?”  

Tim stops functioning for a full minute. He blinks then quickly looks around to see if anyone had heard what Kon had said and lets a sigh of relief when everyone is minding their own business. He looks sharply at Kon, lowering his voice down to a whispered hiss. “Kon. Seriously. No. Just – just no!” 

Kon pouts like it’s Tim who is being the unreasonable one. “Why not?” 

“We’re on a public plane Kon. No. We’re not doing that. Even if we did, what would happen if we got caught? We would be banned for life and then it would be plastered all over the internet. No one would take me seriously ever again.”  

“So, if we were on a private jet you would?” Kon questions looking thoughtful and focusing on the wrong thing entirely.  

Tim gives him a scandalised look. “I am not hiring a private jet just so we can have sex in the air!”  

Kon shrugs completely unbothered by the prospect of it. “I mean, if anyone can afford it, it would be you.” He pauses, his expression turning back into his thoughtful one before he speaks up again. “Would you do it if I was flying us?”  

That has Tim pausing. An image crosses his mind of the two of them tangling together up in the clouds, naked and relying on Kon’s ability to multitask to keep them safely in the air as they do it. He feels himself flush and scowls at Kon.  

“No. Now shut up about it before you pop a boner or something.”  

“You hesitated. You totally would! You totally just thought about it!” Kon grins widely, his complete focus on Tim like a dog’s attention on a bone. “What did you think about? How no one would be able to see us, what the clouds would feel like against your skin, how I would keep us up in air, who would top and bottom or rather what position we would do? Hands? Oral? Penetration? All the above?”  

“Oh my god Kon, shut up!” Tim half yells, he lurches across the divider to slap his hand over Kon’s mouth. The action draws the attention of a nearby air hostess who Tim quickly convinces that everything is in fact okay and no they don’t need anything thank you.  

Because he’s a mature adult, Kon licks Tim’s palm to get him to let go of his face. Pulling a face and wiping his hand on his shirt Tim draws back and settles in his seat. Kon is still grinning at him and Tim scowls, unimpressed with the situation.  

Eventually Kon relaxes back in his seat. “Next time then.”  

Tim buries his face in his hand and sighs resignedly.  

In the end Tim manages to convince Kon to order some food and a drink while he finishes his document on his tablet. Once he’s done and Kon’s finished eating they select a film to watch together across their two screens and sit comfortably with their fingers linked across the divider.  

As Kon’s head starts to drop with sleep Tim hears him mumble, “I know you’re still thinking about it. I certainly am.”  

Tim lets out a long breath and curses Kon in his head, because yeah dammit, he is.  

[thebroccolination]

I've got a question about kudos/comments/views on ao3 and I hope you can give me an opinion on it. What do you think of the way some writers get hundreds of kudos/comments while some other in the same fandom get ignored. Does that mean the story is bad or is it just bad fan etiquette. It's messing with my confidence as a writer.

I know I'm not good at it but seeing my kudos drop from 300 hundred when the show had just finished to a few years later when I'm lucky to get 20 kudos is really messing with my head and making want to quit writing or just keep anything I write to myself because everyone thinks it's bad. Should I just stop writing anything.

Considering the way some fics you see aren't even in character get so popular just because the person writing it is popular in the fandom feels a little unfair. That sounds so childish but I thought fandom was supposed to be supportive of all fic writers. I mean that from the point of view that to me it seems fandom only wants a select few writers and ignores everyone else even when the fandom is mostly dead and people spend the whole time on twitter complaining about the lack of fics and demanding fics to read. Meanwhile I'm still here like an idiot writing everything I can think of but getting ignored for it because I'm not one of the popular writers that fandom seems to have picked for all their twitter followers to read. I'm one of the last few writers in the fandom I'm in and I just want to quit and keep everything I write for myself.

I know I sound petty and I'm sorry for that but I know you still write and I wanted to know your thoughts on it. Also I used to read all your WinTeam fics years ago before Between Us aired. I loved them so much even though I've left that fandom.

Okay. Whew. I read this a few hours ago and I've been thinking of how to answer, because I could talk about this for hours.

First of all, you don't sound petty at all, so please don't feel any kind of negativity about yourself or how you feel. Writing can be an immensely emotional process, and presenting your heart to a blank and silent audience is a devastating feeling. I just hope I can alleviate some of it with some numbers of my own and how I've come to see the whole kudos/comments/views thing myself.

Just…forgive me for going on a bit of a tangent first.

The "why is this fic popular" phenomenon has been around at least as long as I've been in fandom. So like. Almost thirty years. Subjective taste is obviously a factor, but also, like…. Y'know how "Twilight" and romantasy spawned that joke that they're "for girlies who missed their Wattpad era"? I think sometimes people just want specific vibes regardless of the writing quality involved.

And now the rest of it:

FANDOM USED TO BE DIFFERENT

I think it's safe to say that fandom spaces have been profoundly affected by the same immediacy bias permeating so much of modern life across the globe nowadays. Fandom is people, and people live in the world, and the world is just a whole fucking lot right now. It would be shocking if fandom hadn't changed from how I knew it when I was younger. The internet used to be a hobby. Fandom used to be a hobby.

When I was a Youth, you had to find fandom spaces online. It wasn't part of The Culture the way it is now. Most people wouldn't have had any idea what fandom was. When I was in university, right before Obama was first elected, a fandom friend of mine drove to my campus to visit me and when my suitemate asked how we met, I told her, "We write porn on the internet," and my friend visibly regretted driving ten hours from Michigan to see me. I've always been a basket of horrors to my introvert friends, and I apologize to all of you. Then we had to explain to her what fandom was. To someone our age. Because fandom was a subculture where the weirdos hung out, and my suitemate had never stumbled onto those corners of the interent. None of my suitemates had, and if they did, they certainly didn't announce it the way I did.

What I'm saying is that fandom used to be a shadowy hideout in the forest where you'd meet in secret with freaks of all ages to discuss your very, extremely serious headcanons for your favorite fictional children, and most of us adhered to fandom etiquette rules like "Don't Like, Don't Read" and "Dead Dove, Don't Eat" and "Ship and Let Ship."

Now, fandom feels like a noisy hallway in a massive high school where thousands of insecure people side-eye the comics on the inside of your locker and loudly tell each other while smirking how weird it is to have comics inside your locker.

At some point (and I've seen debates about when exactly), Normies invaded fandom spaces, and Normies don't like Weirdos, so it seems to me that fandom is having a bit of an identity crisis.

I'm in my thirties, and I silently joined fandom spaces when I was nine years old. If you were a minor in fandom, you very much shut the fuck up about it and didn't announce yourself, because fandom was an Adult Community. Maybe because of this, as well as the more limited technology, fandom moved much, much slower than it does now. People consumed canon in real-time, of course, but watching/reading/experiencing something right away didn't really matter. You could still hop on the fandom train months or even years after the source canon ended and still find active fans. Honestly, most of the good fic was written after the source material ended because people had time to reflect on the source material. Read meta, have conversations with other fans, read other people's fics and take inspiration from them, etc. It was communal.

Like I said earlier today, Voltron's klance fandom is still around, and that feels like a miracle to me. Even though Voltron ended fairly recently in 2018, I remember seeing fans emotionally begging each other not to leave fandom once the show ended. I was baffled by this, but I chalked it up to younger fans who'd never been in fandom before and didn't understand that once the source canon ended, that's when fandom got good. That's when you created meta and fanwork events and all the real meat and potatoes that made fandom such an incredible community space.

But I was the one who didn't understand, because things were changing from how I'd always known them.

When I was a fandom infant in the nineties, people posted fic to Yahoo mailing groups and their own Angelfire websites. Recommendation sites were a huge thing back then, and the people who made those fic rec lists were precious contributors in any fandom. Before fanfiction.net, we found fic to read by perusing rec lists. It was communal. You needed people to find fic. Sure, you could put a pairing name in a search bar and look it up on Yahoo. Maybe you'd stumble across a fic site, but to really navigate through a fandom to find fic, you needed to follow fan-made bridges from website to website.

Now we have AO3, which was built by people for whom that was once the norm.

I say all this because my opinions about fic engagement and etiquette were formed in A Bygone Era.

Let me show you some numbers.

NUMBERS

My highest kudos'd fic is "If It's You" a "Yuri on Ice!!" fic I wrote and posted in May of 2017. It's a 14k* one-shot about Viktor trying to convince Yuuri to do a gravure photoshoot for a Japanese magazine he's become obsessed with, and it's exactly as ridiculous as it sounds. I wrote it in days and threw it onto AO3 expecting a good reception, but nothing like what it's gotten. :') * I added a 2k smutty addition when it hit 2k kudos.

But there's a reason for it doing that well. It's good, sure, but a ton of those numbers are down to timing. "Yuri on Ice!!" ended on December 22nd, 2016, and I posted this fic about five months afterward, when the fandom was still extremely active and people were devouring fic and fanart and meta, etc. etc. etc. (YOI was a beautiful fandom to be part of.) However, I guarantee you that if I had posted this exact same fic in 2018, it wouldn't have reached anywhere near the same kudos, hits, or comments. I just happened to post it early enough.

And the same thing applies to every recent fandom I've been in. The earlier I post, the higher the engagement I get.

I wrote "Home Again" in a few hours back while "Not Me" was airing, and it racked up 1k kudos almost overnight. I was playing around with how Black's return could play out in canon before the show had gotten that far, and the tone of the fic is silly and fun despite the serious tone of the show.

(That same month, I posted a DanYok fic that only got 201 kudos, and since Dan was a controversial character in English-speaking fandom, I think DanYok fics didn't do as well as SeanWhite.)

Likewise, my WinTeam fics all saw their highest kudos/hit count in the two years between "Until We Meet Again" in 2020 and "Between Us" in 2022.

Here's the top eight:

"Who Am I to You" June 2020, 1.9k kudos "Win the Friendly, Win the Deadly" November 2020, 1.6k kudos "Power Play" October 2020, 1.5k kudos "You Can Cry" February 2020, 1.4k kudos "Gentle Learning Curve" July 2020, 1.3k kudos "MUSE" November 2020, 1.1k kudos "the only exception" December 2021, 1.1k kudos "Nobody's Burden" March 2022, 1k kudos

I'm not saying being early and picking a popular pairing is all there is to it (especially if in bigger fandoms), but they're massive factors in fandoms these days.

Take "MUSE": it was a long crossover fic featuring our popular darlings WinTeam, and it got massive engagement while I was writing it in 2020.

The amount of encouragement, comments, outside feedback, and theories that people brought to me while I was writing "MUSE" got me so excited to work on it, I completed it at 143k in about five months. It wasn't even a challenge to do because I was so happy to work on it. I was hurrying to finish tasks for my job and chores at home just so I could write more "MUSE." I added the interludes because I didn't want to leave this world people were enjoying as much as I was. And I knew that when I posted the next chapter, people would comment their reactions and their favorite lines and their guesses of what would happen next, and I loved the little community that built up around this work-in-progress I was increasingly proud of.

Meanwhile, my more recent crossover fic "Heart Like Gold" has had a much, much smaller reaction years later in 2024/2025. Which is understandable!!

There's nothing wrong with "Heart Like Gold" compared to "MUSE." It's mostly down to timing and fandom activity. The three fandoms included in "Heart Like Gold" (SOTUS, Be My Favorite, and Until We Meet Again/Between Us) are all pretty inactive on the English-speaking side nowadays, so any engagement is naturally going to be much lower than what I was getting while writing "MUSE" during a global pandemic for readers stuck inside depending on fic and the promise of WinTeam's series for their hope and joy.

Buuut lower engagement means lower motivation, so I've only written about 23k of "Heart Like Gold" in the year or so since I started it. That's not to say I'm not grateful for the feedback I have gotten. It just highlights the difference between what feedback and engagement can do for a writer's motivation. When "Heart Like Gold" didn't "take off," I decided to put "Heart Like Gold" on the back burner and turn more of my focus on the book I've been working on instead.

That doesn't mean I'm bitter about "Heart Like Gold" or that I'm going to give up writing it. The lack of engagement definitely contributes to a lower interest in working on it, but I do still love it, and I'm lucky enough to have readers that do leave feedback when I update, so I've given myself permission to work on it when I can muster the motivation on my own.

I had an idea for a comment carnival a few months ago, but I didn't get any reaction to it, so I've put that on the back burner as well. I need to figure out how to structure the event better and try again, because we could have so many more incredible writers doing their best work if we could just…tell them more often that they're making people happy with their work.

I only used myself as an example since I have access to my own statistics, and I thought showing how my own numbers dropped over time would show that it's happening to others, too, regardless of how many you got at first.

I don't quite know how to wrap all of this up in a comprehensive way. When I started writing and posting fics online at eleven, there were encouraging people on fanfiction.net who told me what they liked and then asked me to write more. That early foundation of expecting good things to happen when I shared my writing had a formative influence on me. I went into the fic-writing experience very young, so I easily could have encountered hate (or "flames"—when was the last time you heard that?) that would have soured me on the whole experience.

I don't know if this is viable for you, Anon, but if at all possible, try to find a small group of writers, or just one friend who loves your writing. (If you don't already have them.) It may be that you'll find your happiness in your next fandom. Maybe the next fic you write for your current fandom will be the one that earns you the happy glow of "I connected to this person through my writing."

I truly hope this helped in any way. I'm about ready to crash into bed, so I apologize if I stopped making sense toward the end. Essentially, "write for yourself" is fine and good if it's a diary, but fanfiction is communal, and you're not wrong at all to want and miss that element of it.

If you have any follow-ups or questions about incoherent things I threw in while yawning, please send me another ask. :)

[voxofthevoid]

The last dose of fucked-up ladies for the month with Fem GoYuu Infidelity Wednesday #5 🌈

May shall bring more, seeing as I'm nowhere near done with this AU. I've written another 10k this last week and almost finished Chapter 7, but that still puts me only halfway through the fic in terms of the chapter count.

Now, bidding the month goodbye with some thirsty appreciation for muscled women! Warning for Gojou's...mouth.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I might get pregnant.”

Yuuji takes a moment out of molesting Satoru with her eyes to say, genuine bewilderment furrowing her brows, “I…don’t think it works like that, sensei.”

“Well, not with that attitude.” Satoru smooths a hand over her belly, the skin there tingling as the thin mesh fabric rubs against it. It’s been a while. “Why don’t you come here and try anyway?”

Yuuji stumbles forward like a woman possessed, her eyes roaming wildly over Satoru’s body, from the tits spilling out of the lacy bodice to the thighs mostly bared by the babydoll-style slip. Satoru turns over to her side, doing nothing to stop the dress from riding up her thigh and pooling to the side, almost baring her cunt. Not that the sheer fabric hides much anyway. Satoru hasn’t bothered with any underwear, not even the flimsy thong that came with this piece.

“On second thought,” Satoru says just as Yuuji’s about to climb into bed, holding out a hand to stop her, “give me a show first.”

Lust-darkened blink flit to her face, not lasting more than a moment before dropping to her cleavage. “Huh?”

“Take your clothes off, Yuuji.”

“Oh.” Yuuji stares down at herself, as if she’s checking to see if there are actually clothes on her person. “Right.”

Honestly, Yuuji looks good in Satoru’s clothes. The t-shirt is too big on her—it’s big on even Satoru, which was why she got it in the first place—and the collar slips tantalizingly down one shoulder to expose the jut of her clavicle. It falls to her mid-thighs, only an inch or so of the shorts underneath peeking out. She looks very cuddly.

But Satoru’s not planning on cuddling her just yet.

Despite what Satoru said, Yuuji doesn’t give her much of a show, stripping with frenzied efficiency. The shorts have barely hit the floor before she’s crawling into bed and over Satoru, sculpted muscles gleaming golden under the warm overhead lights.

Satoru lets Yuuji’s encroachment turn her onto her back, only to raise a leg and brace her foot against Yuuji’s scrumptious abs, lightly nudging her back.

Yuuji goes easily, probably to get a better look at Satoru’s cunt.

It clenches like it’s saying hi, but Satoru valiantly ignores that. She’s been wet since before Yuuji entered the room, and the last few minutes of blistering scrutiny have only coaxed out more slick. In the end, Yuuji’s the one getting a show after all.

“Sensei?”

“Stay a moment,” Satoru says, sliding an arm under her head to prop it up further for better leering. “Let me just look at you.”

Show or no show, Satoru can’t complain about the view. Yuuji’s a sight to behold, and Satoru didn’t get to really enjoy that on the night she took Yuuji home or during the classroom tryst that followed, but she had this body plastered to hers all through the night last Saturday. She got to touch and taste and feel the power in it.

Ever since Satoru started working out in earnest all those years ago, most of the fat in her body has concentrated on her tits and thighs—the only parts on her you can really sink your hands into. But Yuuji clearly has a more even distribution. The girl’s almost all muscle; even the modest swell of flesh on her chest is more like pecs than tits. Satoru can cup them in her hands with plenty of room left over.

She’s never fucked a girl with a body like this. If Yuuji grows any more, she’ll probably outweigh Satoru. She may even overpower her.

Her cunt duly submits its approval.

“You don’t happen to have a cock, do you?” Satoru murmurs.

There’s a long stretch of silence.

Then—

“…You’ve seen my cunt, Gojou-sensei. You’re looking at it right now.”

Satoru sure has seen it. Satoru’s done a lot more to it. Well, more like it’s done a lot to her. Sometimes, her mouth waters with the taste without prompting, but mostly, she remembers how it felt to choke on it.

“I mean the kind you buy,” she clarifies, not taking her eyes off said cunt. Yuuji’s clearly not one for shaving, and her bush is the same wild blend of pink and black as the hair on her head, just more evenly mixed. Satoru has vague memories of sleepily dragging her fingers through it. “You could make very good use of it, with a body like that.”

“Thanks, I think,” Yuuji says. She sounds thoughtful. “I don’t. Never really thought of it either.”

“You haven’t ever used one then?”

Yuuji shakes her head. “Not those.”

“What else?”

“Just—” Yuuji gestures vaguely, half in the direction of Satoru’s cunt. “Other toys. Hand stuff.”

Satoru drags her eyes to Yuuji’s face, taking the scenic route. “Yours? The toys, that is.”

“Mostly not,” Yuuji admits.

“Saving your money for better things, hm?”

Yuuji ducks her head, cupping the back of her neck. The tips of her ears are red. “I guess. I mean, I like them! But I like people more.”

“You do act like you’ll die if you don’t gorge on pussy,” Satoru muses.

“Sensei!”

“It’s not a complaint,” Satoru says, winking at Yuuji. “I’ll buy you one.”

“Eh?”

“A cock,” Satoru clarifies. “And teach you how to use it. I’ll even let you learn on me. Would you like that, Yuuji?”

The dark flush spreading across Yuuji’s cheeks is its own answer, but she still rasps out, “Yes.”

“Perfect,” Satoru purrs, lowering her leg—except it’s caught by the ankle, Yuuji’s fingers a burning brand. “Oh? Hungry already? I suppose I didn’t feed you dessert.”

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji says, her tone something that could be exasperation if it weren’t so scorchingly hungry, and then Satoru’s being spread wide open, the leg caught in Yuuji’s grip bent back and tugged to the side to fully bare her cunt.

Slick trickles down Satoru’s taint, almost tickling the sensitive skin.

Yuuji touches it, her fingertips barely prodding the damp outer folds before there are two whole fingers sinking deep inside.

Satoru makes a noise, clenching around them helplessly. The stretch is no strain, her flesh wet and willing, but being so suddenly filled is doing a thing or two her insides, far beyond the tensing walls of her cunt.

“Where’s the romance, Yuuji?” she asks anyway, keeping her voice smooth with painstaking deliberation. “You haven’t even kissed me.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji says, not sounding all that sorry, and kisses Satoru—without taking those fingers out of her cunt.

Satoru opens her mouth, a gleeful greedy on the tip of her tongue, but Yuuji’s tongue shoves the words back down her throat, kissing her deep with wet, wicked violence, and below, her fingers mirror the motion, twitching and twisting against the walls of Satoru’s cunt.

Heat laps at her gut, spreading across her body in rippling waves.

Satoru helps herself to her own fair share of flesh, running her hands over Yuuji’s back and shoulders and sides, digging her fingers deep till the muscles there clench up in resistance, and Yuuji kisses her deeper and fucks her rougher for it, her tongue lashing inside Satoru’s mouth while her fingers spear into her cunt, and there’s never a moment of reprieve, both the tongue and the fingers never fully sliding out of Satoru.

But there’s also something lazy about it. Yuuji’s kissing is as sweet as it’s sloppy, like she’s taking her time tasting Satoru, and the fingers in her cunt aren’t moving with any real purpose, as likely to rub idly at her walls as tease those spots that spark her up inside. It’s certainly not a lack of knowledge. Yuuji’s demonstrated quite well that she knows her way around a cunt, and she’s been a very quick learner when it comes to Satoru’s body in particular.

This just feels like Yuuji’s making an appetizer out of Satoru’s flesh.

It’s unfair how that also goes to Satoru’s cunt, her hips lifting off the mattress to press her body closer to Yuuji’s hand.

Yuuji hums into the kiss. A thumb slots against the side of Satoru’s pussy, tucked against that warm line between thigh and cunt, and the rest of Yuuji’s fingers press against Satoru’s taint. They rub, the angle a little off but the pressure deep and biting, and Satoru gushes around the still-lazy fingers buried inside her.

“Tease,” she gasps around Yuuji’s tongue.

Yuuji breaks the kiss to say, every word smeared against Satoru’s damp lips, “You wanted romance, sensei.”

Satoru huffs. “This isn’t romance, it’s torture.”

“Thought you liked that too.”

“Minx.” Satoru pulls Yuuji’s ear, earning herself an exaggerated pout against her lips. Yuuji’s eyes are barely open, but what they show is warm and dark. “Touch me properly, kid.”

Yuuji takes her hand off Satoru’s cunt, which is patently not what she was asking for, but before Satoru can complain or protest, there are two whole palms on her thighs, one dry and the other wet, and the discordant sensations as they slide up the length of her legs, pausing only to sink all ten fingers into the plush inside of each thigh, are enough to keep her silent and squirming, even when Yuuji’s hands shift from flesh to fabric, gripping Satoru’s hips and stroking in a way that rubs the lacy mesh against her skin, sparking it up.