#hoping to finish this and hobbies up tomorrow.

[immamapletreekid]

work anxiety starting before work itself hahahahaahahahahahahhhaha

[sincerelybubbles]

Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

-

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag. 

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness. 

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time. 

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

-

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class. 

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash. 

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends. 

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do. 

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 

-

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong. 

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves. 

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch. 

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him. 

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

-

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile. 

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her. 

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her. 

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well. 

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 

-

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 

-

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor. 

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you. 

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go. 

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit. 

Not that you really want to leave. 

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 

-

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness. 

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities. 

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains. 

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him. 

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood. 

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time. 

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones. 

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found. 

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap. 

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back. 

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

-

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes. 

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three. 

She tries with you in the ambulance. 

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 

-

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway. 

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged. 

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared. 

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours. 

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair. 

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it. 

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 

“I’m perfect.”

[mystellenia]

romantic tension with abby

summary: in the warm glow of abby's bedroom, after a day of shared hobbies, you contemplate your deepening feelings for her and hope that perhaps she feels the same

content: friends (to lovers???), sfw, literally nothing else

notes: wrote a part two :p i need to write more fluff bc there is such a shortage AND especially with abby. this is like so domestic like in the way that there's no extra interactions. like this is literally how me and a friend would act after a day of painting!! just sleepy and tired zzzzz

(wc 0.7k)

the setting sun cast an orange glow on abby's bedroom where the two of you lay on her floor, bathing in the heat radiating from her large window. you'd just finished painting birdhouses for the married pair of sparrows that frequented the birdseed abby had set out. they would dance around each other and sing their chirpy harmonies and then take turns pecking at the various seeds from the feeder, so abby thought it necessary to handmake them houses in her shop. 

this was one of your many duet activities of abby's "grandma hobbies," as you called them. you two had fed the ducks down at the lake, gone through an entire coloring book, built lego sets, and done nearly a dozen puzzles—one of which was glued and framed in abby's kitchen. 

you guys spent every free moment of time together, and counted down the time until you could when one was busy. you were the closest of friends, but lately you found yourself wanting more—or at least thinking about how it would be if you were more. coming home to each other instead of making the fifteen-minute drive any time you wanted to see her. being able to actually tell her when she looked so pretty it made you hold your breath instead of chewing on your lip. 

she shifted next to you, bending her legs at the knees and pulling you out of your thoughts. "i should probably wash the brushes before the paint dries on them, right?" 

you almost tell her she shouldn't so that you could lay with her a little while longer, but you give in. "yeah, you should." 

she sits up to stand, grunting as she lifts her body weight and moving to the crafting cloth where your birdhouses currently sat drying. you sat up and leaned against the foot of her bed, watching as she so delicately readjusts the cloth so that it doesn't smudge your paint job. 

scrubbing your hands down your face, you push up off the bed and move to grab a sweatshirt of hers to change into, taking your paint-covered tank off and slipping the sweatshirt over your head. it sat baggy on your body with her being bigger than you are just about everywhere, and you threw the hood over your head and dropped onto the right side of her bed. 

she returns with her hands patting on her sweats to dry them off. seeing you in the bed, she comes to sit next to you, with you on your back and her laying on her side to face you. 

"you wanna just stay the night?" she says, her voice lifting at the end as if it were a question and not a declaration. "it's too late to go home alone." 

"yeah, i think i will," you respond. you remember the origami book she bought at the farmer's market last saturday. "only if we make paper cranes until our fingers bleed from paper cuts tomorrow," you grin, turning to look at her and see she's already looking back at you. 

"okay. i have lots of band-aids," she jokes. 

you chuckle, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, sheepishly smiling at the other while holding eye contact. 

"can we also get those berry pastries from the cafe? and make those butterflies we saw on pinterest?" you ask, your cheeks still kissing your eyes. 

"yeah, i'll wake up early to get them for breakfast," she nods. "and i only got that book so we can make things together—we can make whatever you want." 

in place of a response, you slip your fingers between hers and tightly squeeze her hand, ignoring your frustration with the uncertainty of her feelings for you. 

the tip of her nose pinks a bit before she opens her mouth. "good night. we need brain power for making cranes." 

you turn onto your side as well to face her, your noses nearly touching. "good night, abby," you grin, high on the feel of her skin on yours and the way she's looking at you.  

you fall asleep with a smile on your face because your close friend, abby, may just like you, too. 

@picklesarenice69 @abbyandersonsrightbuttcheek

yayyy i’m back :3

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[syluscore]

Leon's Special Recipes

~neighbor! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

randomly had to write this at 3 am last night. definitely leaves space for a part two if anybody's interested, but i do ask for an idea on how it should go! how would you react in this situation?

Word count: 1068

Content warning: nonconsensual cum eating, male masturbation

!!!!!GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+! MINORS DNI!!!!!

“Hi, Leon! Come on in,” You open your front door wide for your neighbor. You live in adjacent townhouses, him living on the end so you’re his only true neighbor.

He steps into your entryway and kicks off his shoes. “So, what brings you here?” He pushes a plastic container into your hands. You open it up and are met with the sweet smell of cookies. “What’s all this?”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing really. Trying new things; new hobbies and such. Trying my hand at baking and needed a taste tester. Luckily for me, I have a neighbor with a sweet tooth.”

You aren’t looking at him as he speaks, rummaging around in the container of freshly baked sweets. “Oh my God! Chocolate chip?” You pull a cookie out and take a huge bite, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the sugar and gooey chocolate hit your taste buds.

You moan out happily and Leon can’t help but smile widely at you, while also shifting his hips to hide his hardening cock from the sounds you’re making–but that’s not important right now. 

You swallow the bite down quickly before taking another. You talk with your mouth full, doing your best to cover your mouth with your hand, but too excited to bother with proper manners. “These are amazing, Leon! How many did you make?”

“Oh, about a dozen. I did keep some for myself. If a man won’t eat his own product, then it’s not a product worth sharing,” He lies through his teeth. He made a half dozen cookies especially for you. They’re not for him, or anyone else at all for that matter. Only you.

You finish a whole cookie and lead him into the kitchen. “Thank you, Leon. That’s so thoughtful. These aren’t going to last long over here. Can’t control myself around sweets.” Perfect. Knew his girl was greedy and it’s working in his favor so nicely. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thinking about trying peanut butter, oatmeal, white chocolate, and sugar cookies. Gotta keep myself busy when I’m not working, you know?”

You reach into the container and pull out another cookie. “Sorry, my mouth started watering at the sound of all of those. You gonna stop at cookies or are you going to expand your baking resume into other goodies?”

He hums thoughtfully, “Maybe. You like cupcakes?”

You smile brightly at him, pure joy in your eyes, “I love them!”

He was hoping you would. He’s been looking at homemade frosting recipes and he thinks he could make a pretty good batch of it. It’d be easy to slip his secret ingredient into those. Yeah. Next time he’s at the store, he’ll buy them out of cupcake supplies. Gonna keep you fully stocked on them. 

“I’m glad we can help each other. I got someone to eat my treats and you get treats.” You nod your head as you nibble on your second cookie. “Anyway, sweetheart. Can’t hang around long, got an early morning tomorrow.” More lies. If he doesn’t get his hand around his cock within the next 5 minutes, he just might come in his pants. 

“Oh, of course. Let me walk you out!” You finish your cookie before walking over to the sink and washing your hands, drying them quickly on your pants before leading him back to the front door.

He’s slipping his shoes back on as you thank him again and he quickly heads out the door, for the safety and privacy of his own home. 

He practically slams his front door and locks it before his hands undo his belt, yanking his cock from his jeans and groaning out as his hand squeezes the base. 

He’s not sure where he read it online, or what he was even looking at to find such a thing. Probably a Reddit thread or some gross porn flick. But as soon as he got the idea to put his semen in food, he couldn’t keep himself from feeding it to you. 

He was constantly popping an erection the days leading up to baking your special cookies. But he kept from touching himself so he’d be loaded and desperate when it came time for your filling. When he was finally ready to add his come to the batter, all it took was a few strokes for him to shoot the fattest load he’s ever managed by himself. 

He quickly shoved his dick back in his pants as he stirred it in and poured them onto a non-stick pan. He was still so pent up, he was hard again before the cookies were even done baking. 

He made 6 average size cookies and 1 mini one. He didn’t really enjoy the idea of eating his own semen cookies, but he had to try it to make sure you couldn’t taste something off. He didn’t think it would make any sort of difference, he maintains an okay diet so he doesn’t taste half bad. But he needed to be thorough because he was desperate for this plan to work out.

And as soon as he popped that mini cookie in his mouth and started chewing, he knew you were going to love them. So many chocolate chips and sugar, it’s a sweets lover’s wet dream. He laid them out to cool while he cleaned up and by time the mess was gone, the cookies were cooled down enough to bring to you. So he cleaned himself up, packed up the cookies and walked over to your place.

Within minutes of returning to his own house, he’s leaned back on his couch, shirt stuffed in his mouth as he shoots more come across his abs. His mind is filled with the fresh memories of you eating your cookies and loving them. Thanking him for his special little treat for you.

And the next day when he runs into you on the way to your car and asks if you ate any more cookies, he’s super pleased when you tell him they’re all gone. Ate another before you went to bed. Got up in the middle of the night, tummy growling for another one. And then ate the last two for breakfast. He tells you he’ll get to work on your next batch and you giddily tell him you just can’t wait to try more of his yummy desserts. 

~masterlist~

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[ventique18]

~ Malleus son hc feat. his parents (Malleus/Yuu♀️)

The adventures of Malleus II (the son) who lives with the reputation of being the second coming of his almighty father. He's got it all: a naturally handsome face, unparalleled brains, and strength that of a thousand men. He's so glorious that no one from his era could ever hope to get close to the ground he walks on.

... Except he's actually just a guy. A completely normal person. His IQ is average and he's just as strong as the next guy. What's unique about him though, is that he has terrifying luck.

His unblemished record of being crowned as the Spelldrive World Champion for 3 years straight? His opponents were just so intimidated by him that they fall off their brooms, injure themselves, and are rendered unable to fight. He's literally only used common fireball spells and a few gusts of wind here and there. For some reason though, the commentators would holler excitedly and announce to the entire world that the young Draconia only needs the most basic of spells to topple over the most gargantuan of opponents. SASUGA DRACONIA-OUJI! they would cry.

And those perfect grades that catapulted him to the top of National Exam Rankings? Those were his lucky letter-dice doing the hard work. He was so absorbed in his sculpting hobby the other week that he completely forgot to study-- only relying heavily on throwing the dice the very day of the exam and praying that he'd guess good enough to not get kicked out of school. And when he did pick out something he was quite sure was right, he was wrong. That was his only incorrect number.

Indeed, he's a sham. He would've felt guilty, but then again his parents actually know how he really is behind the ritz and glamor. His dad's so amused by it, in fact, that he never fails to show up to each and every one of his son's matches; a little to encourage the boy, but mostly because he finds it entertainment of the highest caliber to watch how his lucky son would outmatch his opponents in the oddest ways you could never have guessed.

And after every victorious match, every perfected exams, or even after dragging back a trophy from some out-of-the-blue pageant he got roped into, he would come home to table filled to the brim with his favorite meals. Which are mostly just some variations of dishes made of cream. An occasion he loves, by the way, considering he doesn't always get to enjoy cream because they're way above his daily nutritional quota.

"Wow, a congratulatory feast for my Spelldrive match?" He says as he plops down the chair in front of his parents' usual spots; not even bothering to take off his gear.

"No," His mom replies, "A celebratory feast for living the life you like to live."

He pauses; speechless. It does bother him sometimes, he's got to admit. He's a prince. He's supposed to act like one. He's not supposed to rely on some lucky dice or hope for others to get into unfortunate circumstances just so he'd win. He's supposed to read through every book in the library, swing a sword until his fingers bled, chant his spells until he's sore in the throat-- work hard every single day, just like his father did.

"What are you staring at us for?" His father laughs, "Eat up and finish fast. You still have not quite finished that project I gave you, did you? I want that gargoyle's wings twice as large."

He bursts into a laughter of his own and starts digging into his creamy carbonara. He still wants to work hard, yes, but maybe... Maybe it's not so bad enjoying his teenage life too.

Tomorrow... Yeah, tomorrow, he'll start chipping at that history book he hasn't opened since the start of the semester.

The dad, as if reading what's on his son's mind, simply chuckles and sneakily steals the tub of ice cream his wife was saving for dessert.

[wososcripts]

Tell Me of Your Grief

Stina Blackstenius x Reader

Summary: The fourteenth of March brings back some rather difficult memories, and you don't always make the healthiest decisions. Stina intervenes.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: sorry it's been a while, I've started uni again which means my writing is somewhat slower! With some luck I'll be able to get things up once a week? But that remains to be seen... I promise this is hurt/comfort and not just pain btw.

Warnings ⚠️: discussion of death, self harm behaviors (mild), angst angst angst

------------------------------------

You woke up that morning to a text from Jonas saying you didn’t have to come to training. 

It felt weak to admit it, but part of you was relieved. You knew Katie must’ve talked to him, which was mortifying if you let yourself think about it too much, but she knew you needed this day to yourself. 

It was the anniversary of your best friend’s passing—five years in the making. You hadn’t told many of your teammates what happened, or why you became so withdrawn and somber the week around the 14th of March. It was too difficult to explain. All of the dramatics that surrounded the event, the pain, what you had done wrong, what she had too, it was all still too delicate for eyes you didn’t completely trust. 

You hadn’t even told your girlfriend Stina yet. You’d meant to, really, you had, but the days slipped by and there never seemed like a good time to do it. You knew it would ruin any good mood you were in, and honestly you enjoyed having Stina as your respite when the rest of the world seemed to be knocking against your skull. But it felt wrong that she didn’t know. It felt as though you were hiding something from her, even if it wasn’t intentional.

“Hi baby, I’m not feeling well today so I won’t be at practice. Don’t worry your head when I’m not there. It’s nothing too serious, though, so I’ll be back tomorrow.” You spoke into your phone, recording a voice note to send to her so she wouldn’t be left in the dark about where you were. 

Stina was a worrier, something you yourself could understand, so you always made the effort to let her know if you were running late or not going to something. Otherwise you’d inevitably get a call with her anxious voice on the other line. 

It was early, too early for even Stina to be up. The sun had barely begun cresting over the horizon, casting a slight glow to everything. You wanted to go back to sleep, particularly since you hadn't slept all that well to begin with. Your back hurt from being tensed all night as you were plagued with anxious dreams. On your palms were the remnants of nail indentations—some of them bloody from how hard you had been pressing.

You turned on a podcast and closed your eyes, hoping the sound of human voices would lull you to sleep. It must've worked for a little while, because the next time you opened your eyes it was truly morning, and the podcast had switched to another episode. 

The dreams had continued, unsurprisingly considering your waking mental state, and the extra hour of sleep you might be able to get if you closed your eyes wasn't worth it. So you got out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to go for a run. 

You weren't typically a runner—in fact you were practically ethically against doing it as a hobby—but it was useful for clearing your head. And with no training today, it would feel good to get out for at least a little while. So you blasted your music and took off into the streets of London, completely lost in your own world. Nobody spoke to you, nobody looked at you. 

By the time you had finished, you were sweaty, red-faced, and exhausted. The endorphins began to flood your system as you stripped and started the shower. You turned it almost as high as it could go, hoping for the burn against your skin. You hissed, stepping under the spray, and tears sprung to your eyes. Your skin immediately began to redden. But you didn’t move to lower the heat, instead grabbing your shampoo, gritting your teeth, and bearing it. 

—

“Morning, Blackstenius.” Beth called, clapping her on the back soundly as she wandered into the locker room. 

Stina expected to find you there, sitting by your locker getting changed into your kit and reading your book as you always did, each morning. But you weren’t there. Your locker hadn’t even been touched. She furrowed her brow, then remembered that you had sent her a message earlier. Maybe you had asked her for a ride and she hadn’t seen? Maybe you were going to be late today? Maybe you had some kind of appointment you’d forgotten about until the last minute—you were notorious for that. 

“Morning,” Katie said, sitting down next to Stina on the bench and pulling her kit out of her bag. 

“Morning, Katie.” She replied, opening her phone to look at her message. 

She brought the phone to her ear, confusion and concern filling her chest as she listened to your voice. Though your words weren’t all that worrying, she could hear in your voice that things weren’t right. 

“How’s she doing?” Katie asked, having heard your voice coming from the phone. Her voice was cautious, something unusual for the Irish captain.

“Did you know she wouldn’t be here today?” Stina asked, confused as to why Katie seemed to be clued in to your mood before her. Maybe you had sent her a similar message? She was your best friend, after all. The two of you made a ridiculous pair—her loud and aggressive, you nearly silent and composed—but you’d known each other longer than anyone else on the team, and everyone knew Katie would do practically anything for you. 

Katie was quiet, glancing around at the other girls in the room. Now Stina was worried. Even though you had told her not to be, that it wasn’t anything serious, she couldn’t help it now that Katie was acting so strangely. 

Once it was just Stina and Katie in the locker room, Katie answered her question. 

“Listen, it isn’t my place to tell you anything. You know how private she is…” Katie sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you, probably didn’t want to worry you, the idiot,” she mumbled under her breath to an increasingly concerned Stina. 

“Katie.” Stina said firmly, “What the fuck is going on?” 

She wasn’t usually one to swear. But where you were concerned, the possibility that you were hurting, and had hidden it from her, that warranted much more than cursing. 

“Today is difficult for her, very difficult. That’s all I feel comfortable saying. But if you want to go, Jonas is going to understand.” 

Stina’s heart was in her stomach. Images flashed through her mind, a thousand different horrible things this could mean. 

"Difficult?" She questioned, "Katie, is she safe? Do I have to be prepared for—"

"It's not like that, she isn't in physical danger." 

The answer wasn't reassuring to Stina, who now felt a little ill at the thought of you home alone today. She should be there with you. Someone should be there, if you didn't want her (God, she hoped you wanted her, trusted her). The urge to press more information out of Katie was strong, but Stina held herself back. Katie was right—you needed to tell Stina yourself. Otherwise any insight into your head would be forced entry, a violation of the trust you had both with Katie and with her.

So Stina simply nodded and looked back at her phone to reply to your message. 

Okay, I hope you're feeling all right. Can I swing by later and bring you something? I'd love to see you <3

She wanted to give you an option to say no to her visit—though she would prefer to just go over there now. At least now if you didn't answer before she showed up she could say she had reached out.

—

You waited until the water ran cold to get out of the shower. Your skin was raw to the touch, and still a subtle red color after you had dried yourself off and began braiding your hair. You could hardly stand to look at yourself.  

You threw on the only clothes you could stand on your skin—a pair of soft sweatpants and fuzzy socks—along with Stina's old Häcken hoodie she left at your place a few days ago. It smelled of her which comforted you even if she wasn't here. 

Your phone dinged with a message. Upon opening it, you saw Stina and Katie had messaged, and that you had two missed calls. 

"Eat something." Was all your message from Katie said. 

She knew you, and knew you wouldn't want to eat today. But you had to.

You went to open Stina's text when your phone lit up with another incoming call. It was from Sandra, the mother of your friend. She did this every year, and every year you told yourself you wouldn't pick up. It wasn't healthy for either of you—it reopened wounds that were barely scabbing over as it was. She inevitably cried, and asked why you had left her daughter alone that night, and you bit your lip raw trying to keep quiet and apologize.

But even though you knew the script, you picked up the phone. 

"Hi," you said, your voice noticeably smaller.

You heard a sigh of relief on the other end.

"How are you, Sandra?" You continued, your fingers picking at your lip anxiously. You felt it start to bleed and did nothing.

"Are you still in Limerick?" You continued your flood of questions, waiting for her onslaught to begin.

A few minutes later, once you were on your tenth question and you'd switched from your lip to pressing your nails into your bloodied palm, you heard her begin to cry.

You weren't sure how you managed this every year. Memories of the funeral flashed behind your eyes, and how you hadn't been allowed to stand near the front with the rest of the friends and family. How Sandra had wailed, and smacked you across the face in the parking lot. You stared at your kitchen backsplash and just listened.

"Why, why did you do it?" She cried, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"I'm sorry." You whispered. 

"You left her alone, you killed her, you always brought her home expect that one fucking night and look what happened. It should've been you, it should've been you, you don't deserve this—" 

And so it continued. Tears streamed down your face as your brain began to shut down as a defense mechanism. You just felt numb. Nobody else existed in the world except for you and this woman whose life you had ruined. No Katie, No Stina, Nobody that gave you their love and wanted you here. You didn't deserve what you had, not your success where it should've been your friend's, not your team, not your girlfriend. You were an imposter on this planet, a thief.

—

It turned out that going over to your place wasn't as simple as it seemed. Stina tried asking Jonas if she could be excused from practice, but he insisted that she stay just for an hour. Arsenal had a match with the Spurs in four days and Jonas wanted to go over strategies with the forwards. No skipping. 

So Stina stayed—looking at her phone every thirty seconds for a text from you. There was nothing, and it freaked her out even more.

Whatever Jonas was saying, none of it was registering. She would ride the bench if she had to, it didn't matter to her now. Her leg bounced nervously, and Viv looked at her with concern on her face every couple of minutes. When Jonas went outside to take a quick call, she turned to Stina and immediately asked after her.

"What's wrong, is it something with Odi?" 

Stina nodded, her tight lipped expression telling Viv all she needed to know. She gave Stina a look of sympathy and glanced at her watch, clearly wondering when the meeting would be over as well.

"Odi, something's wrong with her?" Beth butted in unabashedly.

You'd gotten the nickname for a few reasons: you'd danced for years as a child as a ballerina, which showed in your play. You were showy, and graceful, not the aggressive type. Like a swan, someone had once said to you—and the swan lake association stuck: Odette, or Odi for short. Arsenal's dancer.

Jonas re-entered the room before Beth could ask any more questions, saving Stina the struggle.

"For Christ's sake, let the poor girl go," Beth called out as Stina checked her phone for the hundredth time.

Jonas sent a look Beth's way, but decided to be merciful.

"Alright, Blackstenius, you're excused. But I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

Stina practically ran back to the locker room, throwing her kit into her bag and getting changed as fast as she could. A steady sense of dread was building in her. She decided to call you as she left the training grounds and walked to her car, hoping she could catch you and tell you she was coming. It would soothe her mind just to hear your voice.

But instead of your voice on the other end, Stina was met with the busy signal. That confused her even more—you weren't a fan of phone calls necessarily, and she knew your parents would be working now, so it was unlikely they would have called you.

She tried once more, hoping she had just happened to catch you at the tail end of a call, but you still didn't answer.

—

You had barely hung up the phone with Sandra before the tears began to pour from your eyes. It was as though time had made no difference and you were hearing of your friend's death for the first time. All the pain, all the self loathing that had fallen down upon you then still crushed your shoulders with its weight.

Your phone dinged again—a message from Katie.

Respond to me or I'm coming over there myself.

You didn't want Katie here. She had been there in years past, and for her to see you no better despite the time and therapy you put in, well you couldn't handle the shame.

I'm alive and well - see you tomorrow at training

You replied, knowing if you told her you were fine and left it at that she might kill you herself. 

You giggled at the thought of her huffing and puffing at you, demanding you take better care of yourself like a surrogate mother. When your mother wasn’t around, Katie did a damn good impression of her. You never got away with anything if Katie had a say. You laughed through your tears, feeling like every nerve of yours was on a razor's edge. 

A knock at the door barely registered in your mind as you wandered over to the couch, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and waste away for the next twelve hours. Your head was beginning to hurt from all the crying, which only soured your mood further. For the first time you had the thought: I don't want to be alone.

You thought it must’ve been a hallucination, the way Stina appeared in front of you. 

—

Stina wasn’t sure what to expect when she knocked on the door of your apartment. She had spent the entire drive over worrying about how she could find you, partially cursing Katie for giving her just enough info to get her mind going in a million unhelpful directions. The fact that you weren’t texting her back hadn’t helped either. The road before her blurred as she drove without thinking, her body getting her to your apartment building on instinct. 

The elevator dinged at each floor and with it her heartbeat increased. 

When you didn’t answer the door it dropped. 

“Hello?” Stina called out, having opened the door with the spare key you had given her a few months ago. She cursed herself for not staying with you last night when you looked so weighed down, so tired. She’d let you convince her you were fine—something she wouldn’t do again anytime soon.  

When she turned the corner from your kitchen into the open space of your living room she spotted you. There you were, curled up on the couch in a small ball, silent. 

“Did you hear me knock?” She asked softly, approaching you.

You didn’t reply, didn’t even look at her. 

She slowly reached out a hand to place it on your head gently, when you turned and looked at her. It frightened her—the look in your eyes. She hadn’t ever seen them so empty. 

“Stina?” you whispered, confusion present in your tone. 

“Yes, min kärlek, jag är här.”

She put a hand softly on your face, cupping your cheek.

“You’re really here?” 

There were tears beginning to gather in your already red eyes. Stina felt her throat constrict. You’d been crying, clearly a lot by how swollen your face was. 

Stina pulled you up and into her arms easily, shifting you so she could sit on the couch with you in her lap. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, remembering that you had said once that hearing her speak her native Swedish calmed you down. 

You wiped your eyes, lip still trembling slightly. 

“Did Katie say something? Or Jonas?” 

Stina wiped your cheeks with the pad of her thumb, brow creased with worry. 

“Katie said today was hard for you, that’s it. Promise.” 

You went silent, thinking. 

“I was going to tell you. I promise, I meant to. But it just never seemed like a good time, or I just wanted to avoid it as long as possible…you see, Katie met me not long after it happened, she was there, it’s different. I didn’t trust her with this and not you on purpose. She can’t help but know.” You shifted off of Stina’s lap, curling in on yourself next to her so your skin wasn’t touching.

“I hate myself for it. I do, really. And every time I tell someone, they might hate me too, I know that. And I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t give you the chance to hate me.”

Stina put a hand on your shoulder, biting her lip to contain a small sob when you flinched away from her. It was as if you weren’t even there in front of her. All of the grace and kindness and light that had been there just a few days ago seemed to have been swallowed by darkness. To hear you say the words ‘I hate myself’? Stina could cry at the thought of it. Those were words that should never come from your mouth. It was like a knife in her ribcage. 

“Min söta… älskling”

“Don’t call me that,” you sobbed, putting your hands over your eyes and hiding your face from her. 

"Snälla, låt mig hjälpa dig, please, I want to help.” 

You shook your head, face still obscured from Stina’s view. 

This was horrible. Stina felt as though she’d eaten something rotten the way her stomach churned. She was helpless, completely in the dark. Here she was, the person who was supposed to take care of you and love you, and she could hardly do anything. All she could think to do as you cried quietly was pull you into her side and rock you slowly. A melody popped into her head—one her mother had sang to her as a child when she was ill. 

Stina softly sang, trying not to feel embarrassed by her voice. You were beginning to calm, your hands dropping from your face to her shirt, holding it close. By the time she was finished, the room was quiet, empty of your cries. You were clinging to her, your face buried in the crook of her neck as if you were ashamed of the comfort you needed. 

“What was that song?” you asked, voice hoarse. 

“It’s a lullaby. I can’t remember the name.” 

Stina felt you nod against her skin. 

She opted not to say anything further. You were exhausted, she could tell. Anything you wanted to say, you needed to volunteer. 

After a few moments, she felt your grip on her shirt tighten. 

“When I was nineteen, my best friend died.” 

Whatever Stina had been expecting to come out of your mouth, that wasn’t it. She sucked in a breath, trying to remain unaffected. You needed her strength. 

“We had been friends for years, since we were kids. And we’d gotten in this huge fight over something… uni I think. I had an offer to play professionally. I had been drinking, so had she. And I always walked her home, always, when she had been drinking. The way to her house was a bit sketchy, you know? So I figured two people were better than one if anything happened. But the things she said to me that night… I’d never been so upset in my life.” 

You took a breath, 

“So I refused to walk her. She didn’t press, just turned up her nose and walked away, didn’t even say goodbye. And I waited for my bus. The next morning I get a call from her mum—she’s been killed.”

Stina could barely trust herself to breathe. 

“I let it happen, I’m the reason she died.” 

“No—” Stina began, but you cut her off. 

“When they held the funeral, I wasn’t allowed to say anything. I wasn’t allowed anywhere but the very back of the church, because they all knew it was my fault. And still, they know it, they remind me of what happened, what I’ve done. I stole her life!” 

“Stop!” Stina demanded, her face flushed with anger. You were taken aback by her passion, and quieted. “You did not steal anything, you didn’t kill her, it isn’t your fault!” She grabbed your hand as you pulled back from her. 

“You lost your best friend in such a horrible way, and nobody checked in? Nobody held you?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but this time Stina silenced you.

“I want you to tell me what you mean by ‘they remind you’ of what happened.” 

You refused to meet her eyes. 

“It’s not good. Not for me or her… she calls me, my friend’s mom, to talk.” You hesitated, but explained the routine to your girlfriend when she fixed you with a look. 

“That’s…” Stina seemed at a loss for words, “you are the strongest person I know. And you rake yourself across hot coals for a crime that isn’t even yours. For a woman who wants to see you suffer, who can’t accept your healing. That isn’t right. You did not kill her. That is someone else’s burden to carry.” 

You burst into tears again. 

—

You must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because the next time you wake up you’re in bed, and Stina is wrapped protectively around you. Her warmth encases you; she holds you more protectively than usual, her arms shielding you from the world. 

Eventually the two of you get back up, though not before Stina wraps you in a crushing embrace and lets you know she’s staying for a couple of days. No negotiating. 

She makes dinner, you clean. It’s the first time you’ve eaten all day, and you think she can tell by the way she watches you intently. You feel cared for, and it’s a little overwhelming. Stina doesn’t let you out of her sight save a few trips to the bathroom and one brief call from her sister that she has to take.

You didn’t expect things to shake her up so much. 

She helps you clean the wounds on your palms, grimacing at the sight of them once you unfurl your fingers for her. You try to tell her you can deal with them yourself—especially with how much it seems to upset her—but she isn't having it. You see her set her brow and concentrate on cleaning and bandaging the damaged skin, tears only glazing her eyes as you hiss in pain. 

Eventually you convince her that you're fine enough to settle down on the couch and watch a movie. She insists on having you in her lap—something that you find equally as comforting. Stina isn't typically all that tactile, but now each moment apart from you seems to worry her.

You're about halfway into the film and slowly drifting off into her chest when you feel her whisper something into your skin. You think she assumes you're asleep (and you nearly are) but you make out her voice slightly.

"Tack Gud att du är här." She repeats it, and soon you can feel the drops of her tears hitting your shoulder. 

"Stina…" you whisper, repositioning yourself to face her.

"förlåt" she says, wiping her eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry… It was an intense day." You press a kiss to her cheek.

"I was so worried," Stina starts, and you figure it's best not to interrupt her, "when Katie said that you might be struggling, I couldn't think of anything else. You can't hurt yourself anymore, please." Stina takes your bandaged hand.

"If you were gone one day, I don't know how I'd cope." 

"You don't have to worry about that, ever."

"You are the most important thing in my life." Stina's lip trembles, and you wonder how you're managing to keep it together.

You pull her into another kiss, lips sore from how you had abused them earlier. The pain reminds you of the struggle of the day, but Stina's hand holds the depths in front of you at bay.

"I'll always be here." She promises.

You begin to think of something lighter. Of an ounce of forgiveness. Of a year that does not revolve around the rising and setting of the sun on this one day. A moment of peace afforded to yourself. The thought passes your mind—you do not deserve this. You instead think of love.

[the---hermit]

28|09|2024

Today I finally finished writing down in depth notes on the behated geography chapter so I am very happy. I didn't finish working on the first half of the first section of the book as I hoped, but that's okay, I am still happy with what I got done during this first week of work. The afternoon was fully dedicated to my hobbies, so honestly I couldn't be happier on how the day went. I am still a little sleepy, but tomorrow I am not setting an alarm so hopefully I'll manage to get some rest.

productivity list:

read first thing in the morning

finished working on chapter's notes

duolingo

tidied up my study bc it was starting to be too messy to function

continued working on my crochet project (I finished the back panel of the sweater)

📖: A House With Good Bones by T. Kingfisher (I might finish the book tonight 👀)

[mollycabot]

Casey Novak X Reader coffee dates

A/N a short but sweet fanfic because I’m to tried to write more

Y/N was working with Olivia and Elliot on a case as Casey walked into the squad room.

“Hey guys” Casey said “hi case what you doing here?” Olivia asked “just come to look over a couple of things for this case” case responded.

As Y/N was walking back “Olivia got the flies for you” Y/N walked in and Elliot took the flies as Olivia was busy chatting with Casey. “Who is that gorgeous woman?” Y/N whispered to Elliot who shook his head “that’s our A.D.A Casey Novak” he replied. “Why don’t you go say hello to her” Elliot suggested with smirk.

“Nope nope I would trip on my words” causing Y/N to be come flustered “your ridiculous” Elliot said walking over to Olivia and Casey “oh look it’s my break anyway I’m going to get some lunch” Y/N said as she walked out the room.

“Who she?” Casey asked “she our new detective she was transferred to us from other unit as her skills and kindness would be a great addition to our team” Olivia explained “she also a really funny and easy to winded up” Elliot added.

“Well I hope to meet her when she comes back” Casey said she saw you in court a couple of times supporting the victims and she see you around and she find Y/N very stunning and wants to get to know her.

After a while Y/N walked In and sat at her desk with her lunch and sat down doing some paperwork work not nothing Casey walking up to her desk.

“Hello Y/N” Casey said as Y/N looked up and felt her heart speed up “hello” Y/N said “Olivia said you got some files for our up coming court case mind if I have them if there ready?” Casey asked as Y/N handed over the files.

“Thank you” Casey said as she put the flies in her bag and said goodbye to the team as she walked out.

“So our Y/N has a little crush” Olivia said which made Elliot laugh “Shut up you two” Y/N said embarrassed and going red in the face. “You know Y/N Casey likes you as well” Olivia started “she seen you a handful of times and thinks your stunning and gorgeous and kind and she likes how you help the victims and help get them through court”. Olivia finished.

Elliot then said “you two are as bad as each when do you speak about your feelings” Y/N just nodded “well I’m heading home now my shift is done and I’m going to go and sleep. As Y/N was leaving she ran into Casey.

“Hi case what you doing here?” Y/N said “well I just came to ask you if you would like to go and get some coffee sometime? And I was hoping to catch you before you left” Casey said.

“I would love that very much thank you Casey how does tomorrow morning sound?” Y/N said.

“Perfect” Casey said handing Y/N her card with her number on it. Which Y/N happily took.

As they both headed the different ways Elliot stood next to Olivia and said “so are we going to tell them that we told Casey to ask as Y/N is to much of a chicken to admit anything” Olivia laughed “nope it our secret”.

Next Morning

Y/N was stood outside the coffee shop when Casey arrived, “hey love would you like to go inside” Casey said which caused Y/N to go red in the face “yeh sure” Casey smiled once they gave the order and started chatting about work and hobbies. Once they had their coffee they left and decided to go to work together.

“Thank you for this it was a lovely morning love” Casey said as they walked into the squad room, “it was Casey” Y/N said.

“Well we definitely do this again” Casey said as Y/N agreed. “Well as much as I would love to stay I got to head to the office have a nice day my love” Casey said as she gave Y/N a kiss and with out a second thought Y/N kiss her back.

Not knowing Elliot and Olivia are at the back smiling like idiots and happy that they finally admitted their feelings for each other.

[wszczebrzyszynie]

someone added me to a fantasy literature tumblr community and while i think thats really nice i really like the community feature in general its a bit funny. i dont read anything unless its specifically for research. or its a manga. it just doesnt bring me joy otherwise. well any ways a lot of people said theyre interested in commissioning me and im really glad! i just finished one of the university projects i had to do (about western linear pottery culture... cool ... not very proud of that but archeology isnt really my thing. my thing is worlds most boring history hobby the 19th century) and im a bit tired. didnt even have time for my daily oc doodle. but since polish All Saints short break is in a few days, ill try to open them tomorrow. Set up a ko fi page for that in my spare time, to hopefully make things easier. well we will see. Aku told me how to set up things i hope once i get started ill be able to maybe make some keychain pre-orders? not sure for what (i am thinking ocs, to start small). well we will see too. good night

[zenkindoflove]

Tomorrow is my one-year anniversary returning to writing fanfic. This is going to be a bit of a sappy post reflecting on the last year and celebrating some of my wins/new things I've challenged myself to do.

October 17, 2023 is when I started to write the very first chapter of Burn Forever with Me. I had finished the ACOTAR series about two weeks before and had spent those two weeks reading all the Elucien fic I could. I could feel I had a story in me, so I set out to write it in a month thinking that would be it and I would get it out of my system.

It had been a while since I had written. From 2006-2012 I wrote fanfic very regularly across a few different fandoms. Most of those stories can't be found online anymore. I took a three year hiatus from my Big Bang Theory multichapter fic at the end of 2012, and didn't finish it until 2015 when I had a burst of motivation. I didn't write again until another burst of motivation hit me (Game of Thrones ending) and wrote another one-shot in 2019.

By this point in 2023, I kind of thought my fanfic writing days were behind me. I didn't expect this new resurgence in my life that came about because of this series/this ship. I've tried so many new things writing for this fandom and pushed my writing in directions I never anticipated.

Since last year I have... -published 441,592 words. -published 20 fics (a mix of multichapter and one-shots) -completed four multichapter long fics (huge for me because I used to abandon multichapter fics all the time in my first era) -Written for several ships, including rare pairs, not just my OTP which is all I did in the past -Created many OCs, including my focal OC Alexius. Up until now I thought I was kind of hopeless when it came to writing original characters. -Wrote fanfic for three appreciation weeks -Wrote MM smut for the first time, and lots of it. I have been reading MM smut for two decades, but did not have a calling to write for a specific ship until Eris x Alexius -Co-written two fics with @crazy-ache -pushed myself in what styles of writing I tackle, including writing epistolary for the first time as well as challenging myself to write action/fight scenes which always scared me in the past -world building in general also used to scare me and now I think it feels so much more approachable as I've been filling in SJM's holes. -I think my smut writing has evolved a lot too. While I wrote smut in the past and I think I established what my writing voice/style was for smut, I have really had the opportunity to solidify it and try it in different scenes and contexts. I feel a lot more confident than I did back then.

I wanted to highlight these because I think as writers, we are often too hard on ourselves, and it helps to put into context all of the ways we've improved if we are mindful of our progress. I definitely encourage you to sit down one day and remind yourself of all the new things you've done from your starting place. Making this list really put into context all the ways I've changed as a writer in just a year.

I still have a lot more I want to do and new challenges to face in the next year. I hope if you read this, it does help to show you that you can take long breaks and even if you take a step back from writing, you will always be a writer and it'll always be a hobby you can return to and improve your skills, no matter how long its been.

[vulpixisananimal]

Isapays fluff, the Thrilling Sequel.

[BETWEEN ACT 1 AND ACT 2]

"We'll be back in a bit Isa!"

"Alright! Take care!"

(With that, Nille and Bonnie headed off to the farm down the road for some fresh food. That was the nice thing about this little temporary cabin, it was close to everywhere in the little town! You could rent it out for a night, stay in, have a nice dinner and explore around, and then move on! For parties like yours, it was perect!)

(Mirabelle was already out meeting the locals, Odile had dissapeared for alone time, naturally, Ramos was exploring around the town, and Siffrin had yet to come out of their room. That was alright, you were happy staying here. You had your own little hobby to work on. And you were working on it right now!)

(You were working on a hat. It was one for Sif, well, Mal du Pays technicaly. You had started making a few for the three of them, the idea was maybe giving them an easier way to see who's who. But that didn't mean they couldn't be practical! You knew the sun hurt Mals eyes, so, right now you were sewing dark cloth to the rim to make a veil.)

(It had been hard to find a good material, one that was light, but could also blot out the sun. Luckily, it wasn't anything a bit of craft stitching couldn't fix. You had tried mimicing the type that Siffrin had on their cloak, but that was way too advanced. But you made do.)

(You continued sewing. It wasn't that far from done, actually. You could probably finish it today or tomorrow. But, don't rush it. Take your time to make sure it was perfect. It was intricate work, but nice. You continued on for a few minutes before pausing and leaning back where you were sitting.)

(You nearly jumped out of your skin when you turned to see Siffrin was there staring at you.)

"O-oh! Good morning!" (You say.)

(They waved softly and walked over. Oh! Not Siffrin, Mal. It was getting easier to tell who's who every day. Mal du Pays didn't talk, rarely showed up, and was stuck with a resting neutral face, to be polite about it.)

(And, well. You two, had, that one time.)

"Everything alright?" (The other thing you'd noticed was that Mal came out usually when something had gone wrong. You'd been told it does come out casually sometimes, but you'd yet to see it, really.)

(It held up crossed fingers. "I'm ok.")

"W-well. . ." (Oh Change, you still didn't know how to talk to it.) "Well you're free to stick around, if you want!"

(It nodded, and sat down next to you.)

(. . . Change, you were fine! Oh you were really fine! Sure, it had sat with you before like this, but, but it had been a few days since, since that encounter you two had. And you, really had no idea what to think about it still!)

(You continue sewing. Was it. . . Hopeful thinking? That it liked you? Well, maybe it did! It did want to kiss you after all. But, but then it needed to pull away. You knew it was probably just too much touch but, but what if it wasn't? You might have done something wrong, or. . .)

(You feel a gentle poke, making you jolt and turn, Mal was looking at you.)

"O-oh! Sorry! What's up?" (you reply, a little nervous.)

(It looked at you for a second, then held two fingers to their chest, then drew a line above their eyes and clasped both hands together. "That's a veil, for me?")

"O-oh! Yeah, it is! I wanted to make you something nice, Loop mentioned the sun bothers you, so. . ."

(It blinks at you, its face impossible to read. It tapped its temple. "Why.")

"Huh? W-well, I don't want you to hurt your eyes so-"

(It shook its head, tapped its temple again, pointed at you, then made a circle motion with both hands. "No, why do you care?")

"H-huh? Why wouldn't I?"

(It just looked at you. Its gaze felt cold, looking into your soul. It was, really terrifying sometimes. But that was ok! You continue,) "I just, wanted to make you something nice, b-because."

(It's still just, looking at you.)

". . . I just, want you to feel comfortable."

(It pauses, then taps their temple again. "Why?")

"B-because, because you deserve to?"

(Another tap.)

"You deserve to because everyone does! Everyone should be able to feel comfortable."

(It pauses, and considers you for a moment. Then tapped its chest. "Me?")

(You nod.) "Yes! you! I know you guys have gone through a lot, so-"

(It waves a hand, cutting you off. Tapping its chest and wiggling an open palm, then splayed it open. "I can't relax.")

(Huh?) "Why not? You're not in danger right now or anything."

(It's staring at you, you think you see its eye twitch. It turns away from you.)

"Mal. . .?" (You wait for a moment, trying to give it space, but, you're worried. Did you say something wrong? After a minute you lean over to try and see if it's ok.)

(It's. . . Crying.)

"Are you, are you sure you're ok?"

(No response, it's not looking at you, its breathing is getting heavier. You try and very gently offer a hand out.)

(It slaps your hand away and-)

"&$*#%^###$"

(You wince. Ow! It, it talked? R-right, that's why it didn't talk. Island language. You look away and hold your head, Ow ow ow. . .)

(It slapped your hand away.)

(You're looking down at the veil your sewing as you hold your head. It slaped your hand away. Did, did it not want you around? O-or, or did you just take it by surprise? O-or maybe even. . .)

(You feel a touch on your shoulder. A hand. You turn around.)

(Mal has its hand on your shoulder. It's crying, and shaking a lot; its face that was always neutral is showing cracks. It holds up a fist over its heart. "Sorry.")

(. . .You place your hand over Mals.) "I-its, it's alright."

(It shook its head, and looked away. Finally, it tapped its chest, and made a grabbing fist. "Can I trust you?")

"I- O-of course you can!"

(It glared at you.)

"Promise! I promise!! I haven't given away our secret right? Even if some people are relentless about it."

(It stares at you for a long time, as if considering something. It drew a horizontal line, then made a motion like breaking a stick. "Do not break it.")

"I promise, I really do, alright?" (You smile at Mal.) "I, I don't want to hurt you, okay? I promise, from the bottom of my heart."

(Mal looks you up and down. Takes a moment, breathing in, and out. It patted its chest with an open palm. "I'm scared.")

"Whuh?" (Mal? Afraid?) "W-what of? Did someone-"

(It shook its head, it held up a hand, paused, then continued. It patted its chest again, and then made a hand motion from you to it.)

("I'm scared of falling in love with you.")

(Your eyes widen and your breathing quickens. What?!? could that mean??? What could that possibly mean?!?)

"Y-you're. . ."

(It nodded, it was shaking.)

(You were, so, so confused. A-and, worried, and. . .) ". . . Do you, want, to talk about it?"

(It took a minute to reply, taking it's other hand back, it shakily took a hand and tapped its chest, drawing a line, then made a slashing motion. "I don't want to be hurt.")

"You're. . . Worried about me hurting you?" (Why would you hurt it?)

(It placed a cupped hand over the other, open palms moving away. It pauses, then pats its chest, and makes a slashing motion. "I protect Sleepwalker, I'm scared I'll fail.")

(Sleepwalker? Oh Right! That was Siffrin! It was hard to do full names in sign language so, nicknames. It was scared it couldn't protect Siffrin if it. . . Oh.)

(It raises it's hand, stops, unsure what to say. It looks away, shaking even harder.)

". . . Mal?"

(It looks at you.)

"You're, you're scared that, i-if, you and me are, a-a, a thing, then. . ."

(It nods.)

(It wants to protect Siffrin, more than anything. That's, that's what it is after all, right? A protector? Someone who takes care of the body, the host, Siffrin. It's done that job so well, so. . . Personal. It's, it's surpressing everything including you, but.)

(But that's something you can both agree on!)

"Let me help you then!!" (You lean in close.) "I-I, I want to make sure Sif's safe too! I want him to be happy a-and, and not to have to worry about these loops or memories, or anything! So, so. . ."

(It's looking at you, bewilderment having broken through that mask of neutrality. It opens its mouth, and closes it.)

". . . Please."

(It's looking at you, its face, it's, hard to describe. It does so well at hiding it's emotions, even though it's mask is cracking more and more with each word you say. Eventually, it gently claps its hands and holds a palm to you. "Promise?")

(You take its hand and hold it close.) "I promise! I-I promise with all my life! A-and. . ." (Oh Change come on Isabeau, no, don't freeze up now, just say it!)

(Say it! Say it!!)

"A-and, and I'll protect you too!! B-because I love you!!"

(It's shocked, you're shocked too, honestly. You didn't think you'd have, have the courage to, t-to just say that! Here! Now! But now your words are falling effortlessly out of our mouth.)

"I-I've, I've been thinking about when we kissed every day and! A-and about all you went through in Jouvente, a-and! And I don't want you to think you're alone in this!! One of the first things I learned as a Defender was to find someone to have your back. To find someone you can trust a-and-" (Oh Change, you had butterflies in your stomach.)

(You continue.) "I-I want to be that person for you! I want you to, t-to be able to feel safe! Like you don't need to fight the world on your own!! Because, b-because I trust you! And I love you! And I'll always be there to fight the world right by your side!!"

(That. . . That was a lot wow, ok. How long have you been holding all THAT in, Isabeau? You take a second to catch your breath.) "I-I, I know, that, that was a lot, but-"

(It shuts you up with a kiss.)

(. . . . . You, you just forgot everything you were about to say. I-it, it's kisisng you, it, it's kissing you and isn't moving away quite y-yet a and that's MORE than fine by you t-that's, that's, oh you're gonna just die here and now!)

(You put an arm gently on it's side, it flinches, but doesn't move. It puts a hand to your chest, it's cold, but that's ok. Oh, oh you feel so hot, you're deffinatly blushing! Eventually, it moves away, it's mouth hanging open a little, showing more emotion than it ever has before. It pats its chest with a fist. "Sorry.")

(It takes you a moment to register it, you were extremely flustered and still catching up.) "I- n-no! N-nono no need for sorry I, was, surprised, b-but a good surprised like! Like a surprise gift, o-or a-"

(It kisses you again!)

(This time for much shorter but! B-but it still, kissed you! again!! When it moved back again you squeaked out a reply.) "O-okgotitmessagerecieved."

(It smiled at you. Actually smiled. This, this was a first! You were trying really hard not to, well, loose it just a little bit! With one hand, it made a rising gesture from its chest towards you. "I love you.")

"I love you, too." (You say effortlessly.)

(It looks at you, and tilts its head, considering somthing . . . It made a grabbing fist, then tapped itself. "Trust me?")

(You nod enthusiastically.) "Of course trust you!"

(Mal breathes in, and out. It pauses for a minute, then grabs your hand, and lays it out flat, palm up. It does the same with it's own palm.)

(With its other hand, it draws its dagger, and places the sharp edge against its own palm. It looks up to you, for. . . Confirmation? What was it doing?)

(You nod. Mal cuts open its palm, it doesnt flinch, there's blood. It moves the dagger to your hand where it hesitates for longer before cutting your hand open as well. You wince, ouch. Looking up at Mals face, it looked a bit sad that it hurt you. You smile at it, that makes it feel better.)

(You look down to you and Mals wounded hands, an elaborate ritual that Mal Du Pays would want to share with you? Was, was it a wish? If it was, should you just follow Mals example? Should you wish for something?)

(You do, don't you. And you knew what it would be. The same thing you wished for back in Dormont. You wished that Siffrin, Mal, and everyone else who was sharing that head would be okay. That's what you wanted.)

(Mal Du Pays held it's hand up, bloody palm facing you. You do the same back, it nods in approval. A moment, later, your hands are entwined, it stings, but that's ok. Mal closed it's eyes, you do the same. This was where you wished, righ?)

(It was. You could feel it.)

(You wish that they're ok, you wish that they're ok, you wish that they're ok. . .)

(It's. What. You. Want.)

(. . . It, it must really trust you. You knew it was protective of it's memories and wishes. After all, it keep nearly destroying countries.)

(Your hand still stings from the cut, that's ok. You feel a tap on your arm and open your eyes, Mal's smiling at you.)

"Y-you ok?" (It nods, almost enthusiastically.) "h-ha, that was, u-uh-, that was a wish, right?"

(It nods, clapping it's hands and putting a palm to you, then with it's thumbs and index fingers makes a star. "A promise Wish.")

"O-oh!" (You blush a bit more, looking to the side.) "I-I, I won't break it. Promise."

(It reaches you out to you, and gently turns your head back to it. It's smiling, and leans in close. Your heart, you can feel it beat out of your chest. It's. . . It looks so beautiful. You lean in close and-)

(You hear a click from the front door.)

(You blink and Mal was standing a few steps away, face back to its usual neutrality. After your brain catches up to you, you frantically start work on the veil again as the door opens.)

"I'm home!!" (It was Mirabelle.)

"M-Mira! Welcome back!" (You say in your most convincing voice.)

"Hi Isabeau!" (Mirabelle walked into the room.) "Did the siblings go out- oh! Mourning sif."

(Mal waved a hello, then turned and left. Change, it was such a better actor than you.)

"O-oh, sorry, I-I meant-"

"I-its alright, Mira." (You smile, trying to stay normal.) "We're just, all getting used to it!"

"I-I know, just- AAH!!" (Mirabelle rushes over to you.) "Y-your hand!! What happened!!!"

"Wh-" (You look down, CRAB!!! You forgot the cut!! Uh, u-uh-) "O-oh! Oh it's nothing! I-I just cut myself sewing, it's no big deal!"

"Don't be silly! Here, let me see." (She put a hand over yours, and with a bit of healing craft the cut closes. You open and close your hand a few times.) "How is the veil coming along?"

"Well. . ." (Your hand tingles a bit. What a morning is been. . . You and Mal are, well, a thing now! A-and, you made a wish together! Even if, you didn't know what it wished for.)

(You breathe in, and out.) "It's, it's going well! Very, very well."

[doodlekoo]

OUCH | pjm

Summary: you hurt your foot and Jimin thinks your gonna die

Pairing: boyfriend!jimin x fem?reader (mentions pronouns a few times)

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: PG

Genre/Warnings: established relationship, injury, pain, implied?verbal abuse, explicit language, kissing, FLUFF HEH (my favourite), oc is so in love with Jimin

Note: hello fellow fluff lovers, i’m so sorry i’ve been ia for 10 months i was focusing on finishing my final year for college. tbh creative writing isn't my strong point it’s more of a side hobby so please understand i won’t be updating regularly i’ll probably be posting more so when I'm bored and feel like it ahahaha. I do want to point out thanks to all those who liked my previous stories. I really do appreciate it it’s great motivation!! anywho this story was based on when i hurt my foot (it was a more gross story but still hurt like a bitch) i tried limping home but the entire time i wished someone would carry me and care for me the way jimin does in the ff (sad i know). i originally wanted it to be longer going into detail about Jimin’s backstory but i thought short and sweet was better SO ENJOY i hope you all like it :)

and as always please let me know what you guys think and if you want more stories like this! please also leave a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed reading! :D

A warm sensation spreads through your body, engulfing you in a comforting embrace. You couldn't help but smile as a sense of contentment washed over you. The day had been a success. You followed every command and every instruction that your superiors had asked you to follow. Starting a new job was a challenging experience, one you hadn’t gone through before. The memory of your previous employment still haunts you, the echoes of your coworkers' voices reverberating in your mind as they berated you for the slightest of missteps. Not only was it stressful to deal with that every day, but you would also feel even more drained coming home after the endless regrets ran through your mind.

The more you worked at that god-awful place, the more your thoughts grew—were these issues truly insignificant, or were they looming large and you simply lacked the perspective to see them?

Your boyfriend, Jimin, was constantly begging you to quit the job since the sight of you so wrapped up in absolute guilt crushed him every day. Jimin only wanted what was best for you. The stubbornness he had over you was often a hard take but it was only ever going to be beneficial. As the begs increased in volume, your guilt scaled high, resulting in an endless cycle.

You knew you had to do it. Gathering yourself mentally and emotionally to utter those two liberating words took a great deal of courage.

"I quit."

You said it slightly quietly, still unsure. but you were stern about it with an attempt at a demeaning stare. In your head, you felt pretty confident with the way you delivered it, only to have that confidence descend with the sudden scoffs followed by the classic response, "Is that supposed to impress me?"

Perhaps Jimin was right. The testosterone in the room was unbearable at this point, and that slow, excruciating deterioration of your brain was just really not worth it. Staring back at your manager, you remained undeterred.

"I'll be handing in my notice tomorrow."

It was never worth creating an argument with your manager or anyone who lacked basic brain cells, in fact. That simple interaction only changed you for the better, and slowly but surely you felt you had a little more respect for yourself.

As you navigate the bustling street after your third shift, a palpable aura of rejuvenation surrounds you, causing your steps to take on a playful bounce. The faint aroma of coffee lingers on your clothes. The joy felt completely surreal, almost like time and space had been warped. Though the relentless bombardment of verbal abuse made your mind gradually deteriorate, it now made even the most challenging tasks a mere cakewalk.

The rain had been hammering down on the cafe windows for most of the day, so when you were met with the fortunate sun slowly peeking out from the clouds, you felt enveloped with its warmth, feeling it gradually filling your mind up with a little extra dose of serotonin.

Several metres or so away from your workplace, in a small back alley, you could smell the damp brick encroaching on your senses. Looking farther ahead, you saw the recent confrontation you were only slowly getting used to. It was amusing to you that a couple of steps were the only thing you had to worry about in your new day-to-day life. It was a sign that you were at least doing something right. You braced yourself for the steep steps that lay ahead while keeping in mind the wet, slick concrete.

And at that moment, the serotonin vanished. As the calmness of the moment dissipated, a surge of anxiety and adrenaline took over. Your heart plummeted as you failed to catch those final steps. Your foot barely brushes the step's edge. As you stumbled, your ankle gave way beneath you, sending you tumbling to the ground.

You squealed, trying not to make any noise, as a wave of pain shot from your foot up through your body when the weight followed.

"Ouch,"

You hissed in pain as you sat at the foot of the steps. Looking absolutely helpless. The surrealness seemed to slip away as the situation unfolded before your eyes. Your mind wandered in silence. As you glanced around, a wave of relief washed over you as you realised that no one had witnessed your mortifying disaster.

I'm fine. I'm fine. You managed to convince yourself that you could make it home since the distance to your house was less than a mile. I can limp; it's fine. You reached for the railing and attempted to pull yourself up, only to be reacquainted with the searing pain you'd felt before.

Fuck.

You personally don't like to worry excessively about pain and injuries because you've always considered it a waste of time to acknowledge the warnings your body gave you. As the numbness set in, you realised that the situation was far worse than you had initially thought. Your body lay still and unresponsive, leaving you with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Along with the overwhelming urge to get up and leave, you also had the nagging fear that someone could hear a small person yelping at the bottom of the steps and decide to make a huge deal out of it. You know one person, Jimin, who would take his time over an insignificant issue. He would be the one to hire a golden carriage and transport you in grandeur, as the conclusion to convincing you that you needed to rescue yourself from those said scary steps. That was the worst-case scenario in your mind. However, it reached the point where you would rather have him make this big of a deal than a complete stranger who would have thought you were weak, whereas Jimin was certain that you are not.

A soft, sad sigh escapes your lips as your hand instinctively reaches for the back pocket of your jeans. With fingers trembling in anticipation, you searched for Jimin's name. As you raised your phone to your ear, you sensed your heart rate accelerating. Your nerves were on edge, and you did not want to burden Jimin with any additional worries. Making Jimin anxious was punishment enough. Every day, catching a glimpse of Jimin's radiant smile was like a burst of sunshine, flooding your world with a second dose of serotonin. But the thought of not being able to bring that smile to his face or turn it into a beaming grin was gnawing at your insides.

"Hey, ___, I’m so sorry. I’ll be home soon! I’m just out with Namjoon and Hobi!" Jimins' amplified voice, together with the distant chatter in the background, echoed through the alleyway. "No, Jimin i-"

"It was just- Hobi wanted us to come see designs after work, and naturally we all piled into the bar! We are finishing up now!"

"Jimin, that's not why I'm calling…" You replied with a low tone.

"Huh?? Sorry babe, I can't hear you that well!" You chuckled to yourself at the agonising situation. Oh Jimin..

"Jimin, I fell.."

"Sorry, what was that??"

"I don’t know Jimin. I fell down these steps, and I can't get up. It's so embarrassing. I don't know what to do.."

"Shit. Stay there. I'm coming now. Where are you?" The way Jimin's entire demeanour shifts over the phone, it intimidates the hell out of you.

"I’m just outside that alleyway from my work... Do you know the one?"

"Yes, I do. I’ll be there in five minutes." And with that, Jimin ends the call.

"Fuck. That was my girlfriend. I’m so sorry guys, I have to go" Jimin, on the other hand, was shitting it. Hearing your frightened voice over the phone was enough for him to travel day and night to you.

"Is something wrong?" Namjoon asked, apprehensive. He'd only see Jimin's expression like this when something was seriously wrong.

"I'm not sure, I think she’s hurt. I'll see you guys soon." Jimin said, frantically stuffing all his things in his bag. "Aw, alright, I hope she’s okay," Hoseok chirped.

"I hope so too. Bye!!" And just like that, Jimin literally flew outside the bar door. Foot harsh on the pedal. On his way: to you.

You kept your eyes on the cracks along the walls, waiting for Jimin. In the end, a few people did come by, but you covered it up by sitting on the floor and talking on your phone, and they didn't seem to notice. It's currently quiet as the sun is descending. But eventually you could hear faint, sporadic panting in the distance. It was the said saviour of the day.

"___!! Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay?? What happened?!?" Jimin gasped, looking at you like a precious gem that had cracked.

"I’m alright, just a little stumble. But I can't stand up, and it’s annoying." With a faint chuckle, you replied. You looked up at him, hoping to see his gaze soften and persuade him that it wasn't such a major issue, but his anxious expression didn't fade.

Scrambling towards you, he examined your ankle carefully, gently touching it in the process.

"Hm, I’m not a doctor, but I think maybe you sprained it. We should go to the hospital." He announced it sincerely.

"NO. I mean- no Jimin, no hospital, please; it’s not a big deal."

"Are you sure? I mean, you said you couldn’t even stand up?" It was endearing that Jimin tried to convince you, but because you didn't want to feel even more embarrassed, you simply scowled at him and hoped he understood what you were trying to imply.

"Okay, okay, let’s go home then." Jimin let out a little giggle at your silliness. But he now knew it was time for him to take on the doctor role and oh how Jimin would take that role very seriously. "Right, I need to carry you to the car then, can you try and get on my back?"

Jimin crouched in front of you after turning around. You used your entire upper-body strength to push yourself onto Jimin's back by reaching for his shoulders. His arms came back around and supported you from behind before he stood up and repositioned you.

"You okay?" Jimin asks once again. "Yes. Thank you, Jimin."

You scoot closer to his back, not just so he can carry you, but also so you can embrace him. Jimin carefully made his way back up the steps and onto the busy street, attempting to find his way back to the car park. You felt embarrassed by the many stares so you cuddled your face closer into the back of Jimin's neck.

It felt safe there, and you could smell his perfume's mild flowery scent mingled with the peppermint notes of his shampoo. Oh, how he always smelled so good. You smiled into his neck and pecked him lightly. This elicited a slight chuckle from him.

Jimin gently places you in the passenger seat and carefully rearranges your legs. He tightens the seatbelt and ensures you're safe and secure. You glance up at him, speechless. After the manner in which he's been treating you, the decision to call him for assistance felt extremely justifiable. As your gaze lingers on Jimin, he catches your eye, and a soft chuckle escapes his lips once more.

"Is this okay?" Jimin asked with a grin. "Yes, Jimin, this is perfect." As your gaze met his, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. The way he looked at you with such tenderness and affection was a feeling beyond words. To have someone who cherished you so deeply was truly a gift beyond measure. A rosy hue crept up Jimin's cheeks, causing his smile to widen even further.

Closing your door and driving back to the house was quite quiet, but it also felt soothing and safe at the same time. Jimin carried you on his back once again while fumbling to retrieve his keys from his pocket to open the door. Making his way to the sofa, he plopped you down softly.

"Okay, wait there. Don't go anywhere; I’m going to find a bandage." You laughed and shook your head at his stupid yet endearing joke.

When Jimin returned 10 minutes later, he did not only return with a bandage but also with half the house. Blankets, pillows, comfy clothes, a big bowl of snacks, and on top, the said bandage. You couldn’t even see his concentrated face through the massive mountain of love.

Your laughs echoed throughout the room once again while Jimin dumped everything beside you. He then carefully helps you undress into your loungewear and, following a YouTube tutorial, attempts to wrap the bandage around your foot. Watching him all focused on you made your heart flip around the room. He is so adorable.

"Okay, I think that’s good. Now do you want a pillow under your foot as well?" Jimin asked you politely. "I think it’s alright like this." You look at him, smiling.

"Hm, scratch that, I’m getting you a pillow."

When Jimin returns from getting a pillow, he gently lifts your feet to place it beneath them. He then throws various fluffy blankets over you while tucking in the sides, making sure once again that you don’t go anywhere. Looking back at you, he moves in close, giving you a soft peck on your forehead. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he momentarily retreats before leaning back in, peppering your face with a flurry of playful kisses. The two of you erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, your heads thrown back in pure love and joy.

"Now what should I put on the TV for you?" Jimin sits beside you after grabbing the TV remote. "Anything I don’t mind."

Jimin then proceeds to put on your favourite film. Pressing play; he looks at you with a soft smile. "Please be more careful; I hate seeing you hurt like this." He pats your head gently while wrapping his arm around you.

"I’ll try not to Jimin ''. You say as you move closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Paying close attention to the rest of the movie, your sixth sense tells you Jimin isn't watching it at all; he's staring at your ankle, hoping nothing will hurt it any further.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Lumine, Eula, Noelle (obviously), and anyone else of your choosing with a late night working S/O, how would they go about persuading their S/O that they need to go to bed and sleep?

(Genshin Impact) Jean, Noelle, Shenhe, Dehya, Lisa, Xinyan, and Ei forcing their S/O to sleep

...Maybe I should sleep after writing this considering it's 12:45 AM. Also, Lumine and Eula's parts were done in a prompt very similar to this one!

"My goodness my glass house is sparkling delightfully in the morning sun, what a nice day to indulge in my favorite hobby of projectile mineralogy! - Yahtzee Croshaw

Yeah, Jean has absolutely zero room to criticize her S/O for working late into the night.

She does the exact same thing, usually passing out for doing so.

But ever since S/O had come into her life, she had been working on adjusting her schedule so she can properly rest at the behest of Barbara, for both their sakes.

Not to mention S/O was also concerned for her well being, so a compromise is made between the two.

(Jean) "If you rest S/O, then I will too. Like Lisa says, there's always tomorrow."

The last thing everyone needed in the Knights was two workaholics falling unconscious after all.

Noelle also has no room to criticize S/O for working too hard.

That being said, Noelle usually brings some tea for S/O, gently sitting it next to them.

(Noelle) "S/O, I know that I may not be the right person to say this, but you should get some rest."

Similar to Jean, Noelle also makes sure to take better care of herself so S/O doesn't have to worry, and hopes that they would do the same for her.

She has no problem helping S/O get tucked into bed before quickly settling in next to them.

WIth Noelle, she doesn't take long to convince them at all.

(Shenhe) "You should be resting S/O."

Shenhe is quite confused as to why S/O is up at this hour.

They should be resting, surely the work can wait until tomorrow?

At first she offers to stay up, thinking it was something related to no one keeping watch.

Only for S/O to explain it was just some work they could be finishing tonight instead of the morning.

(Shenhe) "It'd be far more efficient to have a clear mind and work later, would it not?"

Shenhe stares at S/O with an innocent expression, eventually making them break and relent.

It makes her feel more at ease, knowing S/O won't suddenly pass out from exhaustion.

(Dehya) "Jeez, you're still at that? Come on, it can wait till morning!"

Dehya playfully wraps her arms around S/O's upper body.

If they refuse to budge she'll make a loud and obnoxious sigh.

(Dehya) "If you don't put the paper down, I'll pick you up! It's reaaaal easy for me to do that, y'know!"

When they relent, Dehya chuckles and stretches her arms.

(Dehya) "Finally. Some shut eye will make you feel better too. Can't get paid for your work if you're paying for medical bills."

Part of her wishes that they would try to continue working, just for the excuse of getting to pick them up and embarrass them.

But alas, that would have to wait for another day.

Lisa refuses to bring any work home once she's done for the day.

And by all the damned souls in hell, Lisa will enforce that rule upon S/O as well.

(Lisa) "Darling, no bringing work home.~"

Despite her teasing tone, she is 100% serious.

Lisa was a hard worker herself, but that was only when she was supposed to be on the clock.

Their home was a place to relax and not think about work, so she'll first take S/O's hands gently and have them wrap around her hands instead.

Archons forbid S/O tries to continue working, then the tone of her voice becomes more lethal as S/O starts to feel electricity in the air.

(Lisa) "Won't you pay attention to little ol' me instead of some papers, S/O?"

(Xinyan) "S/O, get your tush into this bed! Don't make me sing some crappy ol' love song, I'll do it!"

The tone of Xinyan is half playful and half serious.

She doesn't want to play some cheesy song just to catch S/O's attention (mostly).

Xinyan just doesn't want S/O to overexert themselves when they don't have to.

Even she didn't write songs that late into the night

...Well, mostly, but S/O didn't need to know that little detail.

(Xinyan) "Trust me, your brain will make the work flow waaay better when you sleep, speaking from experience here!"

Ei convinces S/O to rest, though not in the way most would imagine.

Being an Archon, she could simply use her godly authority to force S/O to heel.

Or if it was the Raiden Shogun, then smiting S/O was an option.

Instead, Ei has S/O stop their work simply by being herself.

(Ei) "S/O, if you are going to stay awake during this time, can we eat some dessert?...It's too late at night? If you're working, then we can drink some dango milk!"

Simply put, it was annoying them for sweets if they stayed up for too long.

While it was because she was concerned for their well being, since humans are meant to rest, she was holding out for some hope that she can sneak in extra dessert for the night.

So far, it didn't work, much to her quiet dismay.

[zeltqz]

MIND GAMES | ran haitani

length. 5.9k words

synopsis. final part - you finally lose your V to ran hehe

authors note: so i finally got over my nervousness and wrote the fluffiest smuttiest shit i ever oh my god my fingers just dont stop typing when it comes to this man ANYWAY ENJOYYYYYYYYY @sleeplessreader @nimbixan @christmassugarcookies @ransbaby@scarletbedlam @ranhaitaninumberonefans @wenumsmol @jordanisgae

Ran sets his controller down on his lap when you text him; not even wasting a second before unlocking his phone, lightspeed. Rindou rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head they almost get stuck, clearly agigated when Ran just tosses out his attention span the second he gets a text from you.

‘ Whipped ’ is what Rindou likes calling it, noticing how his brother would rather drop everything he’s doing, even going as far to cancel all his plans if the opportunity arises to talk to you.

“So you’re really just going to leave me to fight a 2v1 by myself?” Rindou’s question goes unanswered and he groans watching his character’s health bar deplete by the second. “Dude?!”

Hey, what are you doing? 

Ran clicks on your messages, totally unaware of the uninvited smile creeping onto his face as he types back.

Just playing some games with my brother. Why?

His tongue pokes out to his cheek as he sees the three dots popping up and down rhythmically as you form a response. 

“Ran, if I lose this battle, I will never forgive you.” 

“Shut up, you’ll be fine.” Blindly, his spare hand aimlessly searches around his lap for the controller to shut his brother up when his phone vibrates on his lap once more.

No no reason, I just wanted to talk to you, but you are busy so I’ll call you later

The little hope Rindou has left when he sees Ran’s character take a step forward, ready to aid him through fighting the monster is gone the second Ran’s attention and wandering hands go back to his phone.

“Are you kidding me?!” Rindou’s character falls, evaporating into thin air and his eye twitches. “Fuck off, I’ll go call Kakucho or something, you useless piece of—”

His rant lands on deaf ears as Ran continues to ignore him, kicking his feet onto the couch, eyes glued onto that phone like it’s his lifeline.

I’m not busy, c’mon, talk to me . Everything ok/?

His long hair rests on his shoulders, his slender fingers playing with the ends of it as he anxiously waits your response.

Everythings fine, promise. Just wanted to talk to u 

Stop being so cute its killing me honestly.

Shut up..

He loves the way he can hear your voice through the message, the playful tint in your phone as you’d push him away whilst trying to hide your flustered face from his gaze. 

It’s become his new favourite hobby, to tease you till you can barely look at him. 

We’re still on for tomorrow right? He asks and distantly, he hears Rindou talking shit about him to Kakucho from the corner of the kitchen, then proceeds to invite him over to help him finish the damn game.

“I’m right here, y’know?” Ran calls out, leaning his head back far around over the couch to look into the kitchen, snickering when Rindou puts up his middle finger and continues to cuss him out over the phone whilst looking into the fridge.

Yeah, tomorrow is fine. 

You respond back with a heart emoji at the end that makes his own heart beat twice as fast. He’s not sure why you have such an effect on him; how you managed to invade his thoughts at any moment throughout the day, how he would jump over any object just to grab his phone if it was at the far end of the room when it dings, the disappointed look on his face when he realises the text wasn’t from you.

On a scale of 1-10, how angry would you be with me if I came over right now?

He decides to test the waters and asks. If your answer is anything higher than a 7, he’ll stay at home and wait till tomorrow, but anything less than that; he’s hopping on his motorcycle and risking it all just to see you.

8. Stay ur ass at home ran my dad is here for the week

Fuck’s sake.

He frowns, untwisting his finger from his hair and sighs.

Bruh cant he fuck off and stay in his own house? So unfair.

There’s a short gap between your replies, and he uses it to head over to the kitchen, towering over his younger brother, placing the flat of his palm against the top of his head and drags him away from the fridge with zero effort.

“Ran, get off me !” Rindou struggles to escape his brother’s grip, practically fighting for his life as Ran’s lazy eyes scan over the contents in the fridge. 

He’s too tired right now to cook actual food and there’s no leftovers for him to reheat. 

“Ran, I’ll kick you.” Rindou threatens when he finally rids himself from Ran’s clutches. “You’re extra annoying today.” He grits out, dusting his clothes, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as if he didn’t just get manhandled in his own house.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Ran closes the fridge with a sigh, moving to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Take it as you want, I don’t care.”

Ran rolls his eyes when his phone chimes twice and he doesn’t have to look at it to know who it is. Rindou clicks his tongue, grabbing his flask and downing it with ease. He needs the alcohol to get him through the day, especially when Ran is like this.

It’s an image attachment rather than a message and he opens it; immediately knowing why it took you longer to respond than usual.

You grace him with a perfect angle of your hands splayed over your bare chest, your nipples playing hide and seek behind your fingers. From the looks of it, your back looks arched slightly from the curve of your waist and at the very top of the photo, your bottom lip is being bit down onto subtly with your teeth. His eyes trail down to your stomach, captivated by the way your shorts ride up your thigh—

He needs to get his hands on you. Fuck waiting.

Rindou looks over his brother’s shoulder, eyes blowing wide and jaw dropping to the floor as he gasps an “Oh my God—”

Ran shuts his phone off and fights the urge to punch his brother into next week, hoping the hit is hard enough to give him memory loss. 

“Is that the girl you’re talking to? Shit, what’s her name?” He takes another sip of his drink when Ran brushes past him to grab his shoes. “Oi, don’t ignore me!”

“Just shut up, I gotta go.” 

You fiddle with the tips of your nails anxiously, fidgeting on your bed, physically unable to stay still as you allow your thoughts to take control. Does he not like it? Is it too much? Is that why he hasn’t responded? Did I cross a line? Sending it without permission? Did he block me?

The last one seemed to have worked in heightening your anxiety, fingers now moving to delete the image and pretend you had never sent it; though you know he saw it because the words READ staring at you like a slap in the face.

You almost jump out of your skin when your phone vibrates from underneath your body five minutes later, hidden deep within your sheets as you fish for it. 

Come outside.

It’s a simple message, yet still has your brain muddled. Once connecting the dots, your face flushes, mouth parting slightly and dart your eyes to your keyboard.

Don’t tell me youre outside…. 

You walk over to your window and slam a  hand down on your windowsill to stabilize yourself as you look outside, spotting Ran’s motorcycle at the end of the street. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me, you think, pulling your phone out and dialing his number you shamelessly admit you know by heart.

He doesn’t even let it ring for two beeps before he’s answering, repeating his text message out loud as he says, “Come outside.”

You always forget how deep his voice is, how it has that subtly provocative undertone with a bite of playfulness when he’s in the mood. “Ran—I can’t, you know this—” The deep rumble of your dads laughter fills the house; he’s always so loud, as if he knows you’re planning to sneak out and is laughing extra loud downstairs to remind you he’s home. “My dad will ask questions.”

“Well, you shoulda thought ‘bout that before you sent me that, shouldn’t you?”

You groan, fingers scrunching up a lone piece of paper on your windowsill as you eye his motorcycle again, eyes flitting across the room to your jacket resting your desk chair. “Fine…” You grumble, keeping him on the line as you slip out of your shorts and into some jeans, grabbing your coat on the way out.

You intended to sneak out successfully, making as little noise as possible when you walk past the hallway behind the living room but the door let you down, creaking open way too loudly and your dad snapped his head towards the door. 

“You going somewhere?”

“No—yeah, I mean I wanted to get something from the store, real quick. I’m craving a snack.”

You put on your best innocent smile, ensuring your face is sweet and forgiving despite the fact you’re leaving to go get fucked by your boyfriend (?). 

“Oh!” Your mother chirps from the kitchen, “can you buy some more strawberries for me? I need some for my lunch tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” You slam the door shut before they even got to say goodbye, hands shaking on the knob of your door as you take a deep breath and make your way over to the end of the street.

He’s distracted on his phone when you sneak up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Hi.”

He can feel you shaking when he slides his hands down your arm, tugging you to sit in front of him on his bike. “Hey, you cold? You’re shaking like a lot.”

“No, I’m just…nervous.” You admit sheepishly, unable to look him in the face. He lifts your face up with a finger on your chin, pressing a reassuring kiss to your nose that has you smiling up at him.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“It hurts though…”

He leans forward, turning off his motorcycle engine and lights, now leaving the street in total darkness aside from the streetlamps. “We can take it slow, if you want.”

“No, not that. I wanna do it today, that’s why I sent you the…yeah.”

He shifts your body closer and you part your legs on either side of the bike for stability, hand gripping onto his shirt for better balance. “That photo was fuckin’ sexy.” You stiffen, blood turning cold as his hands wander along your spine, holding you close to him as his lips mark up the exposed skin of your collarbone. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, you have no clue what you do t’me.” He sucks down, humming lowly when your fingers loop around his chain and tug ever so gently to grab his attention.

“What do I do to you?”

It’s a genuine question, though you have a brief idea, you want to know if you affect him the same way he affects you; how his shirt rides up when he stretches, teasing you with just an inch of his faint v-line or hearing his voice in the mornings when you call him is enough to leave a wet stain in your panties.

His hands slither down your spine and you chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment when you feel it. 

It being something hard inside his pants pressing against your upper thigh. “Oh.”

He doesn’t answer, too interested in grabbing onto your breast, groping it slightly and loses himself in the faint perfume scent lingering on the skin of your neck.

“Ran, not here.” You giggle when he kisses his way up to your ear, puffs of air from his nose tickling against your eardrum. “Not here, please.” It’s a miracle there’s no passerbys this late at night, just imagining the look on strangers faces as they watch Ran feel you up on his bike is enough to have you fidgeting from slight embarrassment; yet you shove down the idea of being caught fucking in public somewhere deep inside.

He smells so good, the scent amplifies ten-fold when you shift back on the bike, dipping your face in the crevice of his neck, nose touching the neckline of his crew-neck black t-shirt.

“You’re in a cuddly mood today,” He says amused, slightly nervous, slight shivers running down his body when he comprehends how close you are. He tilts his head to the side, brushing his cheek against the side of your head and golds you steady, fingers digging into your waist. “How long we got?”

“Hm,” your lips vibrate against his neck as you hum slowly, head deep in calculations, “not that long if I’m being honest, but I can risk sacrificing an hour or two.”

“Yeah? What about the strawberries for your ma’?” 

His eyes squeeze shut when you attach your lips to his neck, slowly grinding your hips down against his lap, the slow roll gives your clit the friction it craves.

“She can live without them,” you whisper, hushed in spite of yourself as he lifts you off his bike easily and you maneovuer yourself to sit behind him, locking your arms around his midriff, digging your face into the back of his neck. 

The ride back to his house doesn’t take long and he doesn’t even bother locking his bike , preferring to lace his fingers between yours gently before he’s leading you inside.

The sounds of battle music blasts from the living room and a quick peek confirms that his brother is playing Street Fighter 2 with another guy that you haven’t met before. 

Ran places his hand around your waist, snatching your attention away from his brother and back to him. “Everything okay?” You nod up at him, fixing him with your best fake smile but he sees through it easily. “Nah, you’re not.”

You sigh, hating how perceptive he can be at times. “I thought we’d be alone…”

“We are, they’re deaf as hell, they won’t be able to hear anything.” When you don’t look convinced enough, he calls out his brother's name loudly, but he’s either ignoring him, or he can’t hear him as he talks to Kakucho, nudging him whenever he moves his character the wrong way. “See, trust me.” He squeezes your hand twice, reassuring you and you nod your head and let him lead you upstairs.

You take a seat on his bed when the reality of the situation hits you. 

You’re really about to lose your virginity.

The bed dips when he moves to sit next to you and your hands twitch nervously on your lap, biting the softness of your cheek to calm you down when he places his hand on your thigh.

“You’re shaking again.”

“I—” You bite your tongue, and swallow thickly, hoping your nervousness goes down with it. “I know I’m ready, I just…I’m just scared.”

You watch the slow rise of his brows. “I’ll go extra slow, just for you, ‘kay?” He tips forward to kiss you again, proving his previous sentence with his extra slow movements. Your shaky hand falls to the side of his face, holding him close to you as he shifts you to lay on his pillow, hovering over you.

He breaks the kiss, bending down to peck at your ear. Your giggle is almost music to his ears and your legs kick around as you mutter “It’s ticklish.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” He sucks on your lobe harder, one hand moving downwards to wrap your legs around his waist to stop you from kicking him.

“I don’t like my ears.” You tell him, gently trying to push him away, pawing at his chest, laughing when his breath tickles your eardrum once more, “Ran!”

“You’re so beautiful though,” he pulls away, forehead to yours as he looks down at you, “best looking ears I’ve ever seen.”

“You clearly haven’t seen much ears then.” He deadpans at you and you roll your eyes, retracting your statement, “‘kay, I’m sorry.” You close your eyes when he bends down to kiss your nose, cheek, covering your face with kisses as he mumbles how perfect you are after each kiss. 

Your hands cup his face, thumbs stroking at his cheekbones as you hold his face up, enticing him into a trance with your kisses, back arching off the bed involuntarily with each groan that spills from his mouth.

“I’m gonna undress you now, alright?” He says between kisses and you suck in a harsh breath through clenched teeth before nodding, too nervous to provide a verbal response. 

He sits back on his knees and gently tug on your shirt, lifting your arms up to slide the shirt over your head and onto the edge of his bed. You sit up slightly, unfastening the straps on your bra and letting it fall, watching how his eyes stay glued to your chest as if he’s never seen a pair of breasts before. 

“...Ran, you’re staring.” You say, pointing out the obvious, thinking he would look away by now but you have to grip onto his face, and force his gaze up, “My eyes are up here.”

“I know where they are.” 

If he could kiss every part of your body he would. He looks down at you underneath him, eyes glistening with want and habitually, you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, hands rising to wrap around his neck, craving his lips once more.

With confidence, Ran’s tongue slips into your mouth, slidinig passionately along your own. It’s almost embarrassing how pliant he makes you, how you're lifting your back from the bed slightly to press your chest against his own.

He grins at the soft moans you let out with each kiss, drinking up each mewl that leaves you when your hands wander downwards, slipping under his shirt, dipping your fingers along the crevices of his abs. 

“Take—” You take breaks between kisses to tug hopelessly at his shirt, “I want this off.”

“Someone’s bossy today.” You watch up in reverence as his shirt lifts off his body, tongue poking out to lick your bottom lip. It’s probably swollen by now, how hard you’ve been biting it but you don’t care, not when he hovers above you with his bare arms beside your head.

Your mouth is dry when he leans down to kiss you again, but keeps it short this time, breaking the kiss before you could even melt into the pleasure. 

His fingers dance their way along your thighs, making their way to the zipper of your jeans. His head drops down to look before it’s being lifted by your hands holding his face, “Don’t look…”

“I’m gonna see it regardless, y’know that right?”

Yeah, you know that; but you still feel embarrassed being fully naked and vulnerable in front of someone else for the first time. “I know…”

His fingers test the waters once more, fingernail scraping against the zipper until your legs are complying, spreading ever so slightly, just enough for him to wrap them around his waist as he unzips your jeans, hooking a finger onto your panties to tug them all off at once.

Cold air hits your bare cunt and you almost shiver when he bends down to your stomach, kissing on your skin around your bellybutton, slowly making his way down to your pelvis.

It feels extra sensitive there, butterflies frollocking around your stomach as he practically makes out with your skin. It’s wet when his tongue slides out, licking a stripe from your pelvis to your thighs, squishing them with his fingers as he marks you. He wasn’t lying when he said he would take it slow—now you’re actually regretting his slow pace, wanting to be touched down there.

“Ran—” Your voice trails off into a gasp when he bites down on your thigh, hard enough to probably leave teeth marks. “C’mon…please.” You whisper, covering your eyes with your hands, too flustered to look at him between your legs.

You can’t help but squeal when his nose brushes your clit ever so gently, his wet tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking lightly.

“Oh—oh my god—” He smiles between your legs, eyes closing when he hears your moan, your legs enclosing around his head as you slap a hand over your mouth, biting at your palm when he flicks your clit with his tongue swiftly, physically unable to control your squirming.. “Ran, mm, oh fuck, fuck, yes!” 

“Yeah?” He dives back in, drowning in your slick as his fingers tickle your entrance, “Gonna put my fingers in now, ‘kay?” He takes your soft ‘mmhm, mhm’ as a sign to continue. He pushes in slowly, fighting back your body’s reaction as  he inches his finger in deeper. You almost kick him in the back when you feel it, slow, lazy yet calculated strokes with his index finger.

The pleasure is almost too much, biting your lip, throwing your head back to sink into the softness of his pillows. Your pussy clamps desperately around his long, slender finger. Ran groans, detaching his mouth from your slit, “Fuck, why are you so hot? It’s—” He twists his finger inside you, stretching your soft walls out and gives your clit another suck, “It’s fuckin’ killin’ me.”

Your body feels like jelly from just a single finger, the continuous strokes of his tongue against your clit have stars forming behind the abyss in your mind, eyes squeezed shut as you feel another finger at your entrance. “Don’t stop—fuck—please, don’t st— mm—” 

You’re babbling incoherent sentences, limbs practically numb as you try to squirm away from the overstimulation, insides feeling like they’re being electrecuted. “Wait, I—I think I’m—” 

You’ve never came before so the feeling was unusual to you. The warmth pooling around some unknown area in your stomach had you practically suffocating the man beneath your legs as he loudly licks up at the slick from your cunt as he finger fucks you into heaven.

“Clenching around me so tight, you’re close, aren’t you?”

“I think—” You swallow hard, cursing under your breath when he presses against that spot. He knows he’s hit it because the blood flow from his finger temporarily disconnets with how tight your walls clamp around it, moaning louder than he’s ever heard you before and your hand flys to the headboard to stabalise yourself as you come undone on his hands. You felt liquids squirt from your body, breaking out of the spell he put you under the moment you felt it—scared that you might’ve…

“A squirter, huh?” He says from between your legs, goosebumps forming on your forearms when he drags his tongue over your cunt one last time as a way of cleaning you up. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s not normal? Oh god…” You hide your face in your hands as he laughs, moving to sit on his knees and pulls you closer by your ankles, trying to remove your hands from your face but they’re practically glued on.

“Stop hiding from me, it was hot.”

“I thought I…” You lower your voice, too embarrassed to even finish the sentence, “I thought I peed.” He snorts and you hit him across the chest, “It’s not funny!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute.”

Your cheeks heat up when he kisses you again. The taste of the kiss was slightly bitter and you instantly knew that was because of you. 

“You ready?” His voice is breathless as he parts away from your lips, wiping his lower face and mouth with his arm.

“Yeah.” 

He reaches forward, fluffing the pillows to get you as comfy as can be and you smile up at him, watching hypnotised as he tugs his pants down. You now understand his infatuation with your breasts because you’re lost in the sight of his cock, watching witth a dry mouth as his cock bobs free from its restraints.

There’s something white leaking from the tip that you’re sure is cum and you bite your lip when you see him squeezing tight at the base of his cock, dragging a lazy hand up to the top, groaning as he positions himself between your legs.

You blindly reach out of it, almost knocking the wind out from his lungs when you grab it, smaller fingers failing to wrap around his own. “Hey, what are you—” His words get lost when you bend down and ready to stick your tongue out before he stops you, “What are you doing?”

“I wanna taste it.” You say it like it's obvious, darting your eyes down to the leaking precum seeping out from the tip bit by bit, but he stops you, lifting you from your bent position with a single hand on your bicep. 

It’s weirdly attractive how he can just lift you with no effort, manhandle you to the way he wants and before you know it you’re back on the bed, head resting on his floofed up pillows and he’s hovering over you.

He reaches inside his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and rolls it onto his cock as he says “As much as I’d love to see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, babe, it’s not abouot me tonight.” His eyes trail down your body, nudging his cock against your cunt, the tip brushing agaisnt your clit in slow circles and you close your eyes to steady yourself.

Once ready, you nod at him and he bites his lip, eyes never leaving your body as he slowly presses into you. Your hands fly up to his arms, digging your nails into his skin and try your hardest to stifle your moan. 

There’s a stinging pressure the second his cockhead enters, your body fighting to accept him in and you start to panic. “Wait—” you tap at his arm rapidly, “I don’t think it’s gonna fit—I—”

“Shhh,” he bends down to kiss you, sucking on your bottom lip to comfort you, “listen to me.” You force your eyes open to look into his own honest ones, “You’re so tense, it’s gonna hurt but it’ll be quicker if you relax, ‘kay?”

“Okay…” You eyes flutter shut when you feel him press inside again, the head of his cock is fully engulfed and you feel the burn between your thighs as your walls stretch to accommodate his length, “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, it burns Ran—”

“I know, I know, almost there, promise.”

The rest of his cock slips inside almost easily and he lets out a gutted moan when he bottoms out, his hips pressing against yours and he has to physically stop himself from fucking you into the sheets, waiting for you to stop squirming underneath him. 

“Is it in?” You whisper and he lifts a hand up, thumb swiping at the tears forming under your eyeline.

“It’s in.” You exhale sharply, un-squeezing your hands from his arms to wrap around his neck. “Tell me when to move, I’ll move.” He says against your neck, pressing soft kisses to soothe you, biting down when you clench around him involuntariily.

It feels weird, like you’re being stuffed full—but you don’t see the pleasure in this yet; it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Maybe your body isn’t wired the same way other girls are because they make it out to be something amazing and have them screaming out in pleasure, but you just feel like screaming out in pain.

“Y-you can move, now.” You say after a moment, watching as his jaw clenches when he drags his cock out, leaving just the tip in before pushing back in gently. Ran makes sure to use as little force as possible, not wanting to overstim you so quickly. There’s warmth pooling in the depths of your stomach, the pain slowly turning into pleasure as he keeps up his slow pace, feeling lightheaded from how your pussy catches around his cock so tightly. 

He briefly thinks he should’ve prepped you more, scared that it was too painful for you. One look down proves his theory wrong and he almost cums right there and then, stilling his hips at the sight of you all spread out for him, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head as you bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the bubbling moans.

“Faster?” He pants out, hoping and praying that you say yes because he needs to feel you, all of you, wants to hear you scream out his name. 

“Yes, please.” Your voice is hushed and quiet, gradually getting louder when he pulls out once more but slams inside you, hard enough that you’re sliding up the bed, head almost hitting the headboard as he begins his relentless pace.

He can’t hold himself back anymore, fingers digging into his pillowcase as he slams inside you. Your hand flys to your mouth when you’re about to moan, remembering he has guests downstairs but his hands grip onto your wrists, pinning them above your head. 

“Let me hear you, fuck please—” He sounds breathless, using one hand to keep your wrists above your head, the other trailing downwards to your thighs, spreading your legs further so he could fit himself inside you better.

“Ran, ohmygod, yes, yes, don’t stop, fuck !” You attempt to scratch at his hands pinning you down, needing to grab onto something before you feel like you lose yourself completely. He presses down onto your stomach, switching his pace to a slower one and you almost scream—

“Shit,” he whispers, voice trailing into a moan when his hips jerk, shoving his cock impossibly deeper, “I can feel you cumming—fuck, you’re so—” The next thing you know, you’re being flipped ont the bed, soft mattress pressing against your stomach and ass being dragged up into the air. 

“Ran, please—” You feel so empty without him inside you, taking back everything you thought previously about sex not being enjoyable, wishing he could be inside you all the time to fill you with that warmth. 

He grips his cock, panting softly before lining his cock up at your entrance. “‘M gonna fuck you full of cum, I swear to—” His promise is cut off when he slips back inside, groaning and dragging your hips back to take his cock, mouth dropping open as your walls flutter around his cock, “Gonna fill you up—you want that, huh?”

“Mhm-mhm,” It’s hard to speak when your face is being shoved into the pillow, hands reaching behind you, desperate to touch him when he’s pinning them to your back with a firm hand. 

He ruts against you with a desperation that has you screaming your frustrations out into the pillow as you listen to his provocative dirty talk, ears full with the sounds of skin on skin slapping against each other. 

“Arch your back,” he commands, letting go of your pinned wrists to allow you freedom of movement, digging his fingers into your hips to physically stop himself from moving to give you the energy to bend forward, watching with sharp eyes as the line in the middle of your back dips, “Just like that, yeah.”

You wind your hands in the pillow, holding it like it's your lifeline as you feel him bend forward, grinding his cock with slow strokes. “Feel good, hm?”

“I—kiss me, please,” you manage to gasp out and he winds a hand in your hair, pulling you up with a firm grip to crash your lips together. It’s messy and desperate, ignoring your protesting neck and back just to lick into his mouth hopelessly.

He tugs your bottom lip with his teeth before shoving you back down onto the bed, resuming his quick, calculated thrusts. “Close?”

You nod, head heavy and snake a hand down your body to your clit, circling your fingers around it a little faster. “Uh-huh.”

“Shit, cum for me—wanna feel you, c’mon.” His hand comes down hard and heavy on your ass, and that was the driving point for you, a broken cry of his name into the pillow as your walls clamp to his cock. He groans, thrusting one, two, three more times before he groans, breathing heavily and you feel cock twitch twice before he fills the condom.

His cock is wedged deep inside you as he stills his hips, riding out his orgasm. There’s a wet noise when he slips out and your body falls limp onto the bed, every single muscle inside your body aches and you feel so sore. 

You shut your eyes closed for a moment when you hear some movement around the room, some shuffling before your cold body is being engulfed by his warm embrace as he climbs back into the bed with you. 

“You okay?” He asks, head dipped in the crevice of your neck, pressing soft kisses against the skin and you nod your head, hands coming up to hold his arm, cherishing his warmth.

“I’m good.” Looking over the curve of your shoulder, you make eye contact with him and smile, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my first time. I really enjoyed it.” 

There’s a look you can’t read on his face but his eyes soften more a moment before he’s moving on top of you. Your body surges up to kiss you, sloppy and happy as his laughter ghosts across your mouth. “You’re so soft.”

“No you are! I saw your eyes soften. I’m not blind.”

“That’s cause—” He looks like he’s about to say something but then shakes his head, looking down.

“Cause what?” You move his head back up to your eyes,furrowing your brows as you wait for him to continue.

“I—I think I love you.”

You swallow, wrinkling your nose and blink up at him, those three words wiping all consciousness from your body. At your silence, he fidgets a little, swallowing constantly and swears he feels heat rushing to his palms.

“Nevermind, I—”

“No! No,no don’t take it back.” You panic, sitting up so quickly you knock your forehead against his. Falling back onto the bed with a groan, you rub at your forehead, wincing a little, “I’m such a mess, sorry—”

“No, it’s fine.” He laughs a little, rubbing his own forehead from the hit. 

“I…think I love you too. You just caught me off-guard and I panicked, I’m sorry.” You grab at his hands, bringing them up to your lips and peck the skin there softly watching as he looks at you, wide-eyed. “No, I don’t think; I know I do. I love you, Ran.”

He doesn’t say anything, looking down at the bed for a moment before chuckling, hand coming up to your cheek to caress it lightly, “Like I said before, you’re so soft.”

“Says you!” You want to hit him again but he’s tugging you down onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around and you smile, snuggling up to his chest. 

“You’re staying the night, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I can walk home anyway, my legs are fucked.”

“Good.” 

[samsheughan]

Confession I guess?

I figured it's time I was honest with y'all. (below the cut; feel free to skip if it's not your preferred cuppa)

I know I don't owe anyone an explanation of any kind, but as I've always said and stood by, I hold what audience I have with the highest regard and respect and I feel y'all deserve more from me than just the occasional "thanks for reading!" you know?

That being said, I want to let everyone know that, it's official: I am writing an original novel that I do plan to have published as soon as possible. I am planning on this novel being a trilogy of sorts, so there will be multiple books coming from me! :D

I have been writing fanfiction since I was 12 years old. What started on a floppy disk has flourished into a passion that I will always be proud of and grateful for. Writing fanfiction has spared my life more than once, and in the process of writing fanfiction, I have made friends that I know I will have for the rest of my life. I am so SO so grateful to y'all.

However, as time has gone on, and especially in the last few years or so, writing fanfiction felt more like an obligation rather than the hobby it's supposed to be. And that's no fun. But trying to bridge the gap between fanfiction and actual fiction (aka, the kind you can get paid for) has also been a struggle. I had a hard time trying to detach the ideas I had for fics from their respective fandoms and convert them into something that could be an original novel.

I have tried to adapt some of my more popular fanfiction stories into original ones, but a lot of the fandoms I've been in just don't make that an easy prospect (even my Modern AUs are hard to adapt since what makes them Modern AUs is deeply embedded in their respective fandom). But lately, the fog from that cloud seems to have lifted, and I am currently working on the manuscript for my very first novel!

All that aside, you might be wondering: "but Liz! You promised us you'd finished your fic! You promised, you promised, you promised!!" And you're right. I did promise. A promise I still intend to fulfill. I am a woman of my word. Sutures will be finished.

Someday.

But the timeline for that finale is now offcially on an indefinite hiatus. I could wake up tomorrow morning and finish it all and then post it that evening. Or it could be 10 years before I'm able to get back to it. Who can say? I sure as hell cannot. And while I hope I won't have to make y'all wait that long, like Claire, I have a glass face and cannot lie. But I also have to live in reality: I am my family's primary breadwinner. We are all disabled in some form and I am no longer capable of working outside our home. Wolf hasn't been for some time, so us staying home with The Pup just makes more sense now that we have officially pulled him from public school to homeschool him ourselves. Doing something working from home is now my chief focus, and I have to do what I need to do to facilitate that. We are good for the time being though (so much so that I closed the gfm I started a few months ago, so thank you to everyone who helped us out in our time of need 💜)

It has been a lifelong dream of mine to become a published author. A writer of love stories, in every romance genre I can get my wee fingers on! xD I am now in a position to chase that exact dream, and I cannot wait to be able to share what I've been doing!

To the Outlander fandom: my heart is yours from the moment I saw y'all. You've held my spirit with your two hands, and kept it safe (hey, jammf would be proud of me for channeling him here, be quiet :P) I have had many ups and downs with fandoms but I am eternally grateful for the love and appreciation this fandom has showered me with and I hope y'all will continue to stick around to see what else I got up my sleeve!

Stay tuned! Good shit is coming xx

[cinnamonest]

Okay so! I appreciate all of the messages everyone has sent me, thank you for that <3

I just got back and have been looking at my notifications, I also got a lot of questions, some of which were recurring so I figured I can make one post addressing them:

>What happened

I'm fine, my guess is my working circumstances + short daylight hours triggered some kind of prolonged depressive phase. I am type II bipolar (I can't recall if I've ever mentioned that here or not), so I have regular manic and depressive phases, they're just not usually so intense. I'm seeing my psychiatrist in a month so I'm going to ask her for her thoughts on avoiding it reoccuring.

> Have I played fontaine arc

Unfortunately I'm not caught up, due to the aforementioned issues I also neglected hobbies/media consumption and haven't logged in in a while. I intend to get to this soon and then I can answer stuff about it!

> Did I finish HxH/am I going to make HxH content

Yes I did! I had a few eps left when I went into the depressive phase, so I just picked it back up and finished it while I was traveling this weekend.

I really enjoyed it, so I'd love to write content for it (if that's what The People™ want as well? Let me know)

> Have I played HSR

Unfortunately I can't play Star Rail because it's not on PS4 :( I hope to save up for a PS5 so when I can get one, I'll play it.

> What am I working on

There's a few things I'm either actively on or would like to do!

1) proofreading Diluc escape fic I've had sitting around forever (will post today or tomorrow)

2) another Hybrid post I started a while back (almost done)

3) I haven't checked on it in a while, so I was pleasantly surprised to learn Malebolge (the Morax failed escape fic) is by far the most popular thing I've ever written, a lot of people wanted a sequel so I've started the bare bones drafting of a sequel for it.

4) I might go back and finish the scara failed escape fic I mentioned all the way back in late 2022, I eventually got over the heel-turn dislike I developed (read: I have erased everything post 2.1 from my brain), I was already like 10k words into it so it feels like a waste to not do so. But I'm not sure, I'll just have to see how it goes

5) Sifting through old WIPs/drafts to maybe finish some, maybe start making hxh content etc