#i feel like this very very rarely . i feel anything very rarely

[oneforthemunny]

hold my heart and watch it burn |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: your first christmas apart and it's proving to be a lot harder and lonelier than you thought.

contains: i mean, you know i'm gonna write christmas angst lmao. so angst. divorce. ex-husband!eddie. dad!eddie. mentions of loneliness. of fighting. language. holiday blues. divorce blues. just sad but a little better at the end? maybe? kinda?

"Jude!" Your voice drops, breathy with a stern hiss that your eight year old ignored, running ahead through the crowds of people bustling through the ridiculously busy Starcourt Mall.

Lucy's small hand in yours, you pulled her through the crowds of people, dodging a woman and her twenty shopping bags that swung when she turned, nearly taking you out.

"Jude Wayne, stop." A rare tone of your voice came out, void of it's usual lightness that you always used with the kids- a tone that you usually reserved for their father.

"Woah," Your shoulders tensed, fighting back a grimace at the squeal Lucy let out, wringing her hand out of your grip. Speak of the devil, you thought, lips pursing to hold back the snarl you wanted to give. You wouldn't, not in front of the kids, no- you'd keep it civil for them, even though you wanted to smack the smug, dimpled grin that greeted you when you did finally look at him.

"Hi, sweetheart." Eddie hummed, eyes rolling over your figure, hoisting Lucy on his hip.

Your lips twisted, fighting back an eye roll. "Hi," You snapped curtly, turning to Jude, bending at your knees to get to his level. "Jude, you can't run through the mall, honey. You have to stay with me-"

"-Ah, he was just excited, baby." Eddie grinned, nodding at the young boy, who looked so much like him. "Weren't you, Jude?"

"Yeah, Mama." Jude nodded, lips curling in a positively sweetly devious grin- just like his Daddy's. You could feel your heart melting already. "I just want to see Santa. I hafta tell him the things on my list or he'll-"

"-You will, Jude." You sighed, the start of a headache pulsating dully at the base of your skull. "We'll walk to the line right now, and you both can tell Santa what you want, ok?"

Jude nodded, still walking ahead in quick, excited steps. Your eyes cut to Eddie, looking past him towards Lucy. "Surprised you showed up on time." Your tone clipped, quiet enough that the kids couldn't hear but that he did.

Eddie scoffed, a snort of air. "Showed up on time to see my kids? That's not very nice." Eddie's tone stayed light though his eyes narrowed when they looked at you.

"The truth isn't always nice, is it?" You quipped, turning forward to look at Jude.

"You act like I don't come to every thing they do." Eddie retaliated, a low hiss in his tone that left your jaw clenching with a familiar bubbling rage. "Really trying to make me into the deadbeat dad, hm?"

"I can't make you into anything." You scoffed. "But if the shoe fits-"

"-You're really doin' this?" Eddie's voice dropped, jaw ground tight with irritation. "Really? Today you're gonna start this?"

"I'm not starting anything." You snapped, a little louder than you meant to, eyeing Jude and Lucy carefully. "You're the one who's usually late to things. It's a fact."

Eddie scoffed, a light airy laugh leaving his lips that made your blood boil, nails digging into your balled fists. "Please. You think I don't know what this is about?"

"What?" You snapped, brows furrowed at him.

"Oh, c'mon, you're pissed about Trina." Eddie turned, looking at you fully.

You knew he had to see the way your heart dropped, sinking into a burning pit in your belly, filled with ache.

Trina was a bartender at The Hideout, she'd been one since you and Eddie had started going, and one you'd always felt a little wary of. The way she'd giggle and bat her eyes at Eddie- she'd been a catalyst to a few fights when you were still together.

Last Saturday morning, Eddie was late coming to the house to get the kids.

"Rough night?" You giggled, his hair wild, eyes puffy with lack of sleep- a look you'd seen too many times before, one that was always a sign he was hungover.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to set my alarm last night. I went out, and got a little... ya know," Eddie had muttered, running a hand down his face. "Had to shower because I smelt like smoke and didn't want Lucy's allergies actin' up, and I had to take Trina to her apartment, then I had to get gas, and-"

"-Trina?" You'd nearly spat. "From-From The Hideout, Trina?"

"Yeah, we, uh, we kinda went out last night." Eddie wouldn't meet your eyes, looking anywhere but at you. "I mean, you've been goin' on dates, and... ya know." He lifted his hand, nervously running his fingers through his bangs, a habit he'd always had.

You noticed the gold band missing from his left hand for the first time since your wedding, stomach dropping as he walked in, greeted by your children's excited squeals.

You were sick in the bathroom after that.

Now, your stomach still flipped, still burned with a familiar nauseating ache. Standing in line, trying to feign excitement listening to Jude and Lucy babble on and on about what they wanted Santa to bring them, trying to ignore the spiraling thoughts that consumed your mind.

The same thoughts that kept you up at night, tear stained cheeks pressed into the pillow next to yours, that still smelled like Eddie- the one he'd slept on three nights before his date with Trina. Did he know he was going out with her when he laid there next to you? Was he thinking of her when he had slid into you that same night? When he kissed you so fiercely, so full of love that it left you dizzy, did he wish it was her instead?

A piercing wail of a infant cut through your thoughts, taking another zombie like step towards the front of the line. Jude was bouncing, eyes so wide an intense, honed in on the older man in a red suit juggling the screaming baby to a photo.

"What're you gonna ask for Luce?" Eddie hummed, bouncing the four year old on his hip with a grin.

"Play Doh," Lucy gave a toothy smile. "The ones where you can make the rings." She shoved her chubby finger towards Eddie with emphasis.

"Oh, you gonna make some rings for Daddy?" Eddie grinned, glowing from the inside out- damn him, he was a good dad. Your heart fluttered when he wiggled his own fingers at her playfully, rings shining dully under the white Christmas lights of the mall. "I've been needin' some new ones."

Lucy laughed, silly infectious giggles that had your lips tugging in a grin, your hand smoothing over the wool of Jude's jacket. "You ready Luce? You're next." You cooed, stepping up to the bright candy caned line.

A bored teenage 'elf' looked at you with a less than jolly expression, waving them over as the kids ahead went bounding towards the mall Santa.

"Stay with Jude. Hold her hand, Jude. We'll be right over here." Your voice tightened, not moving until her hand was in his, scampering towards the next marker. "Smile pretty!"

"C'mon," Eddie muttered, his hand softly on the small of your back. "They're good."

You glared at him, huffing and pulling away from his grasp. "Don't talk to me like that."

Eddie sighed, tired and bored. "Like what?"

"Like that," You sneered, voice low as you stood behind the gate with the other parents, watching their kids as they told Santa their lists. "You don't have to be so condescending."

"Condescending." Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, just like that." You snarled, turning away from him, lips in a tight, annoyed line. "Like you always are."

Eddie nodded, slowly, tongue running on the inside of his cheek. There was a tense pause, both of you looking forward wordlessly.

"Look, I don't know what pissed you off so bad, if it's the Trina thing or-"

"-Can you not do this?" You bit in a hushed hiss. "Watch your kids. Don't make this about us." Your chin jerked towards Jude and Lucy, who were too enthralled with climbing on the fake sleigh to look back at two of you, which you were thankful for.

Eddie laughed humorlessly, an airy, unamused snort of air and you could feel him stiffening beside you. "Fine."

The eye roll you gave was so fierce it left you with a headache between the brows, fingers tapping on your crossed arms, trying to ignore him- to be present for your kids, enjoy and embrace the moment, but dammit was it hard. When he always had to have the last fucking word. Flashbacks of countless fights spun through your mind like a rolodex.

You managed enough cheer to mask the tension, greeting Jude and Lucy with their waving candy canes. "Did you tell Santa what you wanted?" You cooed, a hand running over Lucy's head.

"Yeah," Jude hugged your waist. "I told him I'd been really good, but will you tell him too, Mama? When you talk to him later."

You smiled, warm with content at his childlike innocence. "Of course." You nodded. "Let me pay for your photo and you can take it to Papa Wayne-"

"-I got it." Eddie muttered, still not looking at you, already flicking through the bills of his wallet, handing them to the cashier dressed like a elf.

"Let me pay you my half." You frowned, slinging your purse forward, pulling the zipper.

Eddie shook his head with an eye roll, nodding at the cashier, before stepping to the side. He sifted through the change in his palm, plucking out two quarters and handing them to Lucy and Jude. "Here, go get something out of the gumball machine."

Lucy and Jude squealed with excitement, bounding towards the array of candy and toy machines in the middle of the mall, ignoring your shout of warning.

"They already have a candy cane." You looked at Eddie with a bored expression. "So you're giving them more sugar?"

"Jesus Christ, it's the holidays." Eddie huffed. "Thought this was your favorite holiday?"

"It is." You countered, arms crossing over your frame defensively.

"Then quit bein' so mean." Eddie shook his head. "Just 'cause you're pissed at me."

"I'm not pissed at you." Your lips pressed in a hard line. "Not everything is about you."

Eddie let out a laugh, teetering on mocking and mean. "I- you know what, I give up." He shook his head. "Stay in your foul mood, whatever."

His hand fell on the white envelope on the counter, pulling the small photo out, handing it to you. "Here. Merry Christmas." His words fell flat, filled with irritation. "I'll have them back by eight tonight."

You fought back a snarl, looking at the grinning face of your children on the glossy photo, two identical smiles that reminded you so much of the man you loved- used to love.

"C'mon, let's go see Papa." Eddie clapped, grinning at the kids. "Tell Mama bye." His eyes met your with a forced grin, teeth nearly baring at you.

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, bending to hug each of them, pressing a kiss to their cheeks. "Be good, ok? Tell Papa I said hi."

Your eyes met Eddie's, a beat of silence between both of you, nearly challenging the other to speak first, to admit defeat. Neither of you did.

Eddie gave a curt nod, turning in the opposite direction with your children through the ever growing crowd.

You felt incredibly lonely, walking to your car silently, a sinking feeling in the pit of your tummy.

"Fuck-" Your fingers brushing the tip of the box, pushing it further back onto the shelf, away from your grasp.

Your annoyed huff echoed off the concrete of the garage walls, settling back on your tip toes. "Are you fuckin' serious? Ed-" Your words were strangled in your throat, heart dropping with sudden realization.

He wasn't here.

You should've been used to it by now. The house was empty, quiet even with the stereo playing. You'd turned it on, shoved a worn Christmas cassette tape in and tried to drown out the miserable silence that filled the house.

It used to be a tradition, just for the two of you. You and Eddie would drop the kids off at Wayne's going back home to wrap all the gifts you'd hidden. Eddie was always in charge of that, hiding them in the hard to reach, clever places around the house. You'd make hot toddies on the stove, Eddie would put on your favorite Christmas cassette without asking, and you'd spend the evening wrapping gifts.

Your first Christmas, Eddie had been so excited, positively beaming as you wrapped little onesies and teething toys- small gifts for Jude, but Eddie still boasted with pride. "Can you believe we're really doin' this? We're parents. Real parents wrapping real gifts for our real kid. Isn't- That's just fuckin' insane."

Now, you were alone, wrapping gifts for your kids and filling out the gift tag just to them for the first time in years.

The feeling was anything but joyful, sitting on your couch alone while Rudolph played lowly in the background. The hot toddy you'd made didn't nearly lift your spirits the way you hoped. No, if anything, it only made you feel worse.

Maybe it had been a mistake- the divorce. The thought had consumed you since you'd heard about Trina. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe the divorce was too much. Maybe you should have gone to therapy instead. Why else would you be feeling like this? Alone and miserable and full of regret. Were you just jealous? Was it the longer, darker days and colder weather messing with your mind? Or was it really that you-

"Hellooooooo!" Jude's sing-songy scream had you jumping, the hot liquid sloshing over the edge of the mug, splashing on to your reindeer printed pajamas.

"In here." Your voice was tight, not passing for the cheery tone you were hoping.

Two sets of feet bounded towards you as you set down your mug. Jude and Lucy came in, babbling with excitement about their day with Papa Wayne, still in their snow boots and coats.

"Mama, we saw Papa today an-and he asked me if I could make him some extra reindeer food so he can have some for his roof too, so Santa doesn't miss him." Jude jumped in your lap, eyes bright and wild as he told his story with excitement.

"Did he?" You grinned, unzipping Jude's jacket gently. "We'll have to make him some, won't we?"

"Yeah." Jude nodded, looking over at the tree. "Are those for us?" His eyes widened.

"Not until Christmas." You pointed at him. "Or I'll take them all back."

Jude pouted, eyes darting towards the screen. Your eyes cut towards Eddie as he helped Lucy out of her little snow boots, shimmying them off carefully and putting them by the door. The ache in your chest only grew.

You stood, crossing the living room towards the entry way. "Hey, Luce," You cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she flung herself at you. "Did you have fun today with Papa?"

"Yeah," Lucy giggled, hanging off your leg. "We gotta see the lights."

"The neighbors," Eddie muttered, his gaze not meeting yours, looking at Lucy instead. "They have a bunch of light displays now. Decked out the whole trailer. She really liked it."

"That sounds like fun." You smoothed a hand over her head. "Why don't you go see what Jude's watching? Let me talk to Daddy for a minute. Ok?" You tracked her as she bounded towards the living room, plopping next to Jude on the couch.

An uncomfortable silence filled the space between you and Eddie before you even turned around.

"So, um," You swallowed, rocking back and forth on your slippered toes. "Sounds like they had a good time." You lifted your head, looking up at Eddie.

"Yeah, they had fun." Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes flickering from you to the frilly garland over the door. That same dreaded pause came back, filling the space between you.

"I'll head out," Eddie broke the silence, your heart lurching at his words. "I'll, uh, be back tomorrow morning, if that's cool? Stop by and-"

"-Wait," Your tone was fiercer than you meant it to be, Eddie's eyes told you that. "I-I just-" You turned towards the kitchen, heart hammering with a steady thud in your ears.

"I, uh, I made hot toddies." You swallowed your hammering heart. "Why don't you- I mean, if you want one, yo-you could stay for a while. Put the kids to bed, ya know, if you don't have plans or whatever." You muttered, cringing at how juvenile you sounded. You sounded like you were back in high school, stammering the same way you had when Eddie first asked you out.

Eddie's lip curled in a small smile, running a hand over his face. "Sure." He shrugged, shedding off his worn leather jacket. "Thank you."

You shook your head gently, turning towards the kitchen, ears ringing with the dull beating of your heart, barely registering the squeals of laughter from Jude and Lucy in the other room. You ladled the steaming contents into a festive mug nearly robotically, brain numb with the same swirling thoughts that made you feel like you were underwater- washing away in the strong current of your own mind.

Your slippers felt like weights, dragging your body across the hardwood floor towards the living room, passing Eddie the steaming cup. His hand brushed yours, sending your system flooded with electric excitement.

As you settled back into the cushions, your body relaxed- just for a moment. The kids were squealing, babbling and giggling about their afternoon with Papa. Rudolph still playing lowly in the background. Eddie next to you, sipping out of his mug. For a moment, the lights strung on the tree felt brighter, warmer.

For a moment, it felt like home again.

That sickening realization had your stomach lurching, pulling you back into the cruel reality that none of this was permanent. Eddie, the lights, the happiness- it was all temporary. It would be gone tomorrow.

You wished it wouldn't.

Your mind at war with itself, filled with conflict and regret as you tried to mask it, giving fake grins and exaggerated coos that half heartedly passed for truthful.

"They're finally asleep." Eddie's voice had you jumping, the mug slipping through your hands into the sudsy water.

You turned, chin hooking over your shoulder to face him. "You were probably right. All that candy wasn't the best idea." Eddie gave a tight grin, his eyes sparkling dully, just enough to have your heart skipping. "They got even more at Wayne's too."

"I told you," You sighed softly, a playful hum in your tone. Still, it wasn't convincing enough, not for Eddie.

Eddie frowned behind you. "What's goin' on with you?" He didn't miss the way your spine went rigid.

"What?" You voice pitched, high like it was when you were lying- when you were hiding something. That hadn't changed since high school.

"Don't- c'mon." Eddie gave a soft huff, accompanied by an eye roll. "Just tell me what's goin' on."

"Nothing's goin' on-"

"-Don't lie to me." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "I've known you too long. You think you can lie to me and I won't know? Please."

Your lips tugged in a smile you tried to hide, turning back towards the dishes you were finishing up. Eddie moved beside you, hip leaning on the counter next to you.

"What's on your mind, baby?" His voice was so gentle- you hated that it was exactly what you needed, that he knew it was exactly what you needed.

You swallowed the ever growing lump in your throat, fighting the swell of tears that was already forming.

"Hey, c'mon, sweetheart," Eddie's hand pressed to your cheek, cupping it sweetly, his rings pressed to your skin. "Talk t'me, baby. What's goin' on?"

"Nothing." Your voice was as strained as the words you struggled to get out.

"Baby," Eddie eyed you playfully. "I know we're not together anymore, but I still know you and you can- what's wrong?" He froze, his hold going rigid at the first shake- a tremble of emotion that was a telltale sign you were about to break.

"Did I say something? I was just- hey, don't cry. Don't cry." Eddie cooed, gathering your face in his hands, pulling you towards him.

Your lip trembled, biting back a sob that tore its way through anyways, vision flooding with tears that built on your waterline.

"Is this- Is this about Trina? Because I didn't- Nothing happened, we just went out. Well, I mean, she kissed me, but I didn't- I really didn't-" Eddie's voice rose in panic, rambling, frantic at the watery sob you let out.

"Please, hey, please don't cry? I'm not- fuck, baby, I didn't- I thought it would be ok, be-because you'd been on a few dates, and I thought it would be a good thing."

"It is." You blubbered, sniffling wetly, wiping your eyes with the back of your rolled pajama tops.

"Then why are you crying?" Eddie frowned lightly, pads of his thumbs wiping over the apples of your wet cheeks catching your tears.

"I just..." Your eyes pinched shut, jaw clenching to keep in another sob. How could you tell him? You couldn't. You knew you couldn't, even though you wanted to so badly.

"Just what?" Eddie's voice dropped. "Tell me."

He could feel your trembling breath, his own heart squeezing with constricting fear before you spoke.

"I just... I miss this." Your voice cracked, eyes squeezing shut. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to see his reaction.

"I-I didn't know how much I would miss just... just us all being together, and I really fuckin' miss it, and I think," Your breath hitched, heart stilling entirely with hesitant fear.

Eddie held his own breath, eyes wide, looking at you with a wild gaze like he knew what you were going to say.

"I think," You swallowed around your words, strangled in your throat. "I... I made a mistake."

Eddie's heart leapt so fiercely he thought it tore through his rib cage. His body eerily still, unable to move.

"I didn't know you going out with someone else w-would make me feel... this bad, and," Your eyes shone, the strung lights in the kitchen catching in your tears. "And I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too." Eddie's lungs constricted with those words, feeling breathless and light headed.

"I don't like spending the holidays without you." Your voice squeaked, teary and upset, face crumbling with the admission you'd been holding in for too long. "I don't- I don't like being without you, an-and I think I made a really bad mistake and I-I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm so-o sorry-"

Your teary face pressed to the soft material of his t-shirt, your cry muffled into his chest. Eddie held you close to him, as tight as he could, his own head spinning now.

He'd dreamt of this, longed for this moment since you'd fist served him the papers. The day had finally come, one he thought he'd only see in his head- you coming back to him, taking it back, taking him back.

Only it didn't feel as triumphant as it did in his head.

Not with you sobbing into his arms. Not with his head spinning so fiercely he thought he might still be dreaming.

"It's alright," Eddie soothed nearly robotically, staring ahead out the window towards the darkened street as he soothed your sobbing apologies. "We'll- We'll figure it out, baby. We'll be alright."

Every time you both felt like you found your footing, finally on stable ground, you were back here- falling with horror back into uncertainty.

Even as Eddie held you in the kitchen, or later when he slipped into bed with you, both of you whispering and sniffly under the sheets, it wasn't new but it wasn't the same as it was before.

You weren't sure if it would ever be the same as it was before, if you'd ever have what you had before. Even if you replicated the same traditions, hung the tinsel in the same place, retraced your footsteps exactly as you did the year before; it would never hold the same feeling as it once did.

[goldfades]

❝ 𝐚𝐟𝐜 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬, burrow. ❞

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⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you give joe his own celebration after winning.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | NSFW! minors pls dni. plot w/ smut, messy head sesh (joe receiving), cigar mentions, praise and um... nothing else? pretty self indulgent.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | if you guys enjoy this i might just write more for joe 🫣 if you guys have any requests, my inbox is open rn!

The crowd is electric, buzzing with that rare, palpable energy that comes only when an entire city feels the taste of victory on its tongue.

The stadium lights are still blazing, casting a golden glow over the field, and you can see Joe, helmet off, hair slightly mussed from the game. He looks different tonight—not the quiet, calculating Joe who keeps everything just below the surface. This version of him stands tall, eyes sharp, taking it all in with a sly, almost cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You’re swept up in the energy as he walks towards you, chest out, shoulders loose, like he owns the night. His usual restraint is nowhere to be found; every bit of him is reveling in this moment, and it’s as if he knows exactly how everyone is looking at him, yourself included.

The cheers and the chanting blur together, and you feel your pulse match the beat of the stadium around you. He's coming closer, that rare glint in his eye—the kind that says he knows he's good, and tonight, he’s not hiding it. He reaches you, and before you can even say anything, his hands find your hips, pulling you in with a confidence that’s both unexpected and thrilling.

Joe isn’t usually one for public displays, especially after a game when he’s all focus and steady composure, but tonight is different. Tonight, he’s every bit the champion and you can see it in the way he looks at you, like he’s not just savoring the win but the whole world in his hands.

Without a second thought, he cups your face, his touch warm and firm, and his lips crash into yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The kiss is fierce, almost possessive, and your heart skips a beat as you realize he doesn’t care that everyone’s watching—that someone, somewhere, probably has their phone out recording this very moment. He’s completely wrapped up in you, and for this one fleeting moment, you’re the only thing that exists.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a smudge of your lipstick on his lips, unmistakable and bold, and he’s got that cocky grin again, wider this time, unbothered by the smear of color. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away a trace of lipstick, his eyes sparking with that rare, unabashed pride.

"Guess I’m taking home two trophies tonight," he murmurs, his voice low, just for you.

His hand stays on your hips, grounding you as you’re both swept up in the exhilaration of the night. The crowd, the lights, the whole stadium could disappear, and it still wouldn’t matter. Joe doesn’t care about anything else—he’s made that clear.

━━━━━

The club pulses with energy, dark and sleek, lit by flashes of neon lights and thrumming to the bass-heavy beat of music that vibrates up through the floor. The exclusive afterparty is alive with players, coaches, friends, and the lucky few who managed an invite, and you can feel the buzz of victory in the air. It’s thick with the thrill of the win, the endless energy of a city that hasn’t been able to stop talking about Joe and the team since last year’s championship.

Joe’s beside you, his hand never leaving your back as he navigates through the crowd, and he’s still got that spark in his eyes. There’s a looseness to him tonight—a magnetic energy that draws everyone in. He’s in his element, basking in it, tossing back easy laughs with his teammates, tossing friendly jabs at anyone who dares question the next championship he has in mind. Every time someone congratulates him, he pulls you closer, and even though he usually keeps things more private, tonight feels like a night for breaking his own rules.

You’re holding onto his arm, laughing along with him, when his teammate Sam catches sight of the lipstick stain that still lingers faintly on Joe’s mouth.

He raises a brow, grinning wide, and elbows Joe. "Looks like the MVP’s got more than a trophy tonight," Sam jokes, his voice teasing but warm.

Joe doesn’t even bother to wipe it off. Instead, he smirks, pulling you closer with a shrug that radiates easy confidence. "Best accessory, don’t you think?" he says, voice low but loud enough to carry over the music, and his arm slides around your waist, holding you against him like he doesn’t plan on letting go.

You laugh, leaning into him as he glances down at you, that cocky spark in his eyes making your pulse race. Joe has always been cool, confident, but tonight there’s something different about him—a unrestrained pride that makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of something unforgettable.

“Careful,” you tease, looking up at him, your voice playful. “Keep that attitude up, and they’re going to start thinking you’re actually enjoying the attention.”

He chuckles, a low sound that only you can hear. “Guess I might be, just a little,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “It’s not every day you get to win back-to-back championships. Gotta let myself enjoy it for once, right?”

Before you can answer, Ja’Marr sidles up beside him, grinning from ear to ear. He’s got that same victorious look in his eyes and you can tell he’s been looking forward to this moment just as much as Joe has. Reaching into his pocket, Ja’Marr pulls out a fat cigar, extending it to Joe with a knowing smirk.

“Time for a victory smoke, QB,” Ja’Marr says, his voice light but laced with pride. “You earned it.”

Joe takes the cigar, turning it over in his hands as if considering it, then lets out a low, appreciative laugh. He glances at you with a grin. “Guess we’re going all out tonight, huh?”

You nod, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and his hand finds your waist again as he turns back to Ja’Marr. “Thanks, man,” Joe says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ja’Marr shakes his head, feigning modesty. “Nah, tonight’s all you, bro. I just happened to be along for the ride.” He steps back, lifting his own glass in a toast, and the whole crew around you does the same, echoing the sentiment as they raise their drinks.

“To Joey,” Ja’Marr calls, his voice carrying over the music. “And to running this city two years straight!”

The crowd roars in agreement, and Joe raises the cigar in salute before flashing that unrestrained smile again, lighting it up with a satisfied exhale. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips as he relaxes back against the booth, pulling you close beside him.

“You know,” he says, glancing at you with a grin that’s both relaxed and intoxicatingly self-assured, “could get used to this whole king-of-the-city thing. But only if you’re here with me.”

“Think I could make that work,” you reply, smiling as you tuck yourself against him, his arm solid and warm around you.

Joe leans back in the booth, his arm still looped around you, his blue eyes sharp and unmistakably bold as he exhales a long, lazy stream of smoke. There’s a cocky tilt to his mouth, something magnetic that holds your gaze, and when he catches you staring, that grin only deepens.

“You look a little too comfortable holding court like this,” you say, smirking, leaning into him just enough that your knee brushes his.

He gives you a look that makes your stomach flip, tilting his head as he takes another drag from the cigar, never breaking eye contact. “I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, just loud enough for you to hear over the noise.

The way he says it, like he owns the moment—and maybe you, too—sends a thrill down your spine. You lift your chin, refusing to look away, feeling the tension spark like electricity between you.

“You sure you can handle the attention?” you challenge, arching a brow. “I don’t remember you being one for the spotlight.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” he replies, voice dripping with confidence. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, his lips a mere breath away from yours. “Question is, can you?”

His eyes are dark, daring, and you feel his hand press against your waist, fingers brushing the bare skin where your shirt rides up slightly. The club is hot, noisy, and every beat of the music seems to pulse between you, building the tension.

Before you can answer, he leans in even closer, his mouth hovering by your ear. “Because from where I’m sitting,” he murmurs, “you’re looking at me like you’re ready to break a few of my rules tonight.”

━━━━━

And that's how you ended up back at the hotel, on your knees, looking up at Joe like he was the only thing that mattered. The room is quiet now, a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club, but the silence makes everything feel sharper, more charged. The dim lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the confidence that radiates off him with every breath, every small movement.

He’s standing there, looking down at you, his eyes dark, studying you with that intensity that makes your heart race. There’s a cocky, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips—a hint of pride that you can’t help but want to unravel. You can see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his breathing steady, controlled, even though you know he’s feeling every second of this as much as you are.

Joe’s hand lingers on your face, tilting your chin up just a bit more as he watches you, his eyes tracing every detail like he wants to commit it to memory.

Your hands worked on his belt as he let out a quiet groan and he doesn’t stop you, lets you take control for a moment, and the way his breath catches in his chest makes something inside you stir. He’s always the confident one, the one who stays in control, but tonight, in this space, everything feels different. It’s like he’s giving you the freedom to move, to touch, to test just how far you can push him.

“God,” he mutters, his hand sliding from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers curling just lightly around it, like he’s marking his place, claiming it without saying a word. His thumb gently strokes over your skin, sending a pulse of heat through you as you finish loosening his belt.

The moment the buckle comes free, you pull him closer, your fingers tracing his waistband as you look up at him, your lips just a breath away from where he needed you most. His chest rises and falls rapidly now, a sign that you’re getting to him, that the tension is starting to break.

He leans down slightly, his breath hot against your ear, voice low and rough. “You know, you could make me forget the whole damn night with just a single move.”

You smile, a slow, teasing thing, as you drag your hands down to his bulge, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten in anticipation. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a dare, but you don’t rush, taking your time, letting every moment hang between you like a promise. The way he’s watching you, waiting for your next move, only makes the tension between you more intense.

Joe’s gaze darkens even more, the intensity turning almost possessive as his hand sliding into your hair again, gently pulling you up to meet his lips in a kiss that’s every bit as hungry and desperate as it is passionate. He’s pulling you closer and you can feel the weight of him, the heat of his body, as he presses you back on the floor.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low, full of need. The way he says it, like he can’t hold back, makes you ache with want. He falls back on a chair behind him, his eyes full of need. You know exactly what he wants as he spreads his thighs.

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want,” he urges breathlessly as you find your way in between his thighs.

Your hands slide back to his thighs, fingers brushing against the hard lines of his body, and you can feel his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes.

You finally pull off his underpants, freeing his hardened length. He lets out a breath as his hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Joe doesn't wait any longer, he pushes you downward until your lips meet his warm tip.

“Taking your time, huh?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, a hint of impatience flickering in his eyes as he watches every movement you make. There’s a slight smirk on his lips, but it fades quickly as you press a little closer, opening your mouth to finally take him.

He lets out a guttural groan as his grip tightens in your hair. The taste of him is intoxicating, you couldn't help but let out a sound of your own. Your lips wrap around his thick cock effortlessly, taking him slowly.

Joe wasn't in the slow mood, though. His grip in your hair didn't loosen as he began moving your head in his own accord, your muffled moans egging him on. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag as your fingers scratched his thigh instinctively.

“That's it, baby,” he groaned breathlessly. “Take my cock, just like that.”

Your jaw was already sore, your chin was dripping with a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum but somehow you still relished in this. Your eyes were watering as you tried to keep them open, watching Joe's every expression and hearing every sound. Every praise that left his mouth spurred you on, your mouth sliding up and down his wet cock.

And despite the mess you've made, Joe still thought you were the sexiest woman alive. He couldn't look at you any longer, because he swore he would just cum at the mere sight. You slipped off his cock, your tongue flicking his tip as you caught your breath. You slowly took him back in, humming at the feeling of being so full.

His hand tightened in your hair as his head fell back on the chair, his mouth slightly open as he groaned. “Oh fuck, yeah. Keep going,” he grunted. “Gonna cum, fuck.”

Before you could even react, his cum filled your mouth as you moaned around his cock. You tried your best to swallow all of it before you slipped off, your chest rising up and down. Looking up at Joe, he wore a fucked-out expression, all his previous cockiness had softened into something raw and unguarded.

His head is tilted back against the chair, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he tries to catch his breath, his gaze finding yours with a look that’s equal parts amazement and satisfaction. The flicker of dim hotel light casts shadows across his face, highlighting his features in a way that makes him look almost softer, stripped down to just Joe, without the bravado and the public image.

He lets out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair, which is now mussed and a little wild. “Think you just ruined me,” he murmurs, voice still thick, a slight rasp lingering from the exertion.

His hand reaches down, fingers grazing your shoulder before sliding up to brush against your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he takes in every inch of you with that slightly dazed, contented gaze.

You smile, a satisfied warmth spreading through you as you sit back, watching him collect himself, looking at him in this quiet, vulnerable moment. “Maybe I just wanted to see if I could,” you reply, voice raspy with an edge of pride. You know the effect you’ve had on him, and the thrill of it lingers in the air between you, sparking like the last remnants of a fire.

Joe chuckles, his fingers trailing lightly along your jaw, then down to your chin, where he tilts your face up to meet his eyes fully. “Oh, trust me,” he says, his gaze darkening again, though now softened with something deeper, “you’ve got me right where you want me.” He leans forward, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost tender kiss that lingers longer than you expect, as if he wants to savor the moment. He could taste himself on your tongue, making his ego skyrocket.

For a minute, neither of you speaks. There’s just the sound of your breaths mingling, his other hand slips up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and he gives you this look that makes your heart race all over again, even after everything that just happened.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[callilypso]

II ▷ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 — " cold hands, warm hearts "

part 1 of the ��&𝐝𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 [other parts: xavier, rafayel, sylus]

— exploring Zayne as a father, both of Your children’s relationships with You and their Dad, as well as delving into their passions and personalities

note: each LI has different MCs, meaning each child/ren of the other LIs have different mothers and aren't related

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: fluff, fluff, and flufffff, some crack, and some teeny bit of angst (if you squint); the kids are ocs

❥ a/n: i have many, many plans for all of these babies >:) there's nothing too serious yet i promise. feel free to add more of your own ideas i would looove to know them i will srsly cry in joy. pls be nice tho c:

0:02 ───|────────────────────────

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 has two children: an eldest son and his youngest, a daughter. He is The Dad™ amongst all dads, and I know most would agree. He's a very hands-on father, and definitely the stricter one between the two of you especially when it comes to their health. Unfortunately, his babies took after some of their mother's uh.. concerning habits, but nonetheless, he will never get tired of taking care of his family. As much as they can be a source of stress for his poor heart, his joy will always be from them too.

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐘 — “Cae”, ”Ace”

his eldest, name based from Caleb in his honor (assuming he is truly dead at this time), and Zayne thought it was perfect

he is a literal Carbon Copy of Zayne, except his eyes shaped and color like his mother's

as a baby, he rarely cried and whined, almost picture perfect, however.. it was an absolute pain when they were trying to start feeding him solids

grew up to be a picky eater even well into his adulthood, very particular about textures and smells. he absolutely hates ketchup and anything with tomato sauce, dislikes sour-sweet things and any seafood

You had an idea to try giving him a teensy bit of chocolate at age 2, and he hated it—the sticky texture was off putting

it had Zayne doubting for a moment if Casey was truly his offspring as if he wasn't there to witness the delivery, your hand crushing his in a grip he wasn't sure was physically possible without breaking each other's hands.

Zayne learned to adjust to his needs though, trying to accommodate both his preferences as well as still giving him the proper nutrition. MC at least taught him to try anything just at least once

his role model was truly his Dad, adopting his gentleman mannerisms and kindness for others

would often be brought to work with Zayne after school, behaving well in his office as he browses through some of his Dad's medical books, and would ask him questions to clarify

a lot of questions, sometimes Zayne gets a little too distracted but he will never blame the sweet boy

little darling of the Akso hospital, always greeted by the nurses and doctors of the facilities as he passes by trying to snoop around

he looooves the nurses’ desk, listening intently at all the different stories about their daily life as health workers, from sad to crazy to funny 

would often be given chocolate much to his dismay.. it all ends up going to Zayne and his sister in the end

a smart, reliable, kind, and generous boy, eager to help others in need inspired by both his parents and his healthcare workers environment

from helping his struggling classmates to understand the lessons better, to assisting the elderly cross a busy street

can be a little bit of a people pleaser… just a tiny bit (a lot)

Zayne and MC has never given or voiced expectations on what standards he should be, unfortunately, it doesn't stop outsiders from doing so

growing up, he's felt the weight with each whisper—he is the son of The Dr. Zayne, best cardiologist of his generation in the whole country

it's genuinely one of his inspirations to strive for the best, although in his teens it kind of grows into a toxic perfectionism and competitive comparisons

that's right, he's the burnt out overachiever, a constant at the Dean's List, hence why his peers started to call him “Ace”

disciplined and responsible, although can be prone to anxiety

as a brother, he's protective of his little sister too, sometimes he even outdoes both You and Zayne in strictness.

he likes to think he's a lot more restrained but he's actually very readable.. the boy cannot lie to save his life

a natural approachable charismatic leader

since he was a child, he was Zayne’s own personal 'physician' after work, giving his Dad a full ‘check up’ because he knows being a doctor is hard, but truthfully Zayne’s stress melts away the moment he's greeted by his beaming grin as he runs into his arms, his son's baby shampoo and fresh laundry scent calming his senses instantly

he treats him with shoulder rubs, hand massages, forehead massages, even learning to brew Zayne’s prefered coffee blend, and ah yes with his daily dose of much needed sweets

his relationship with you.. let's just say you get double the doctor now, aka you're very well taken care of and yes, you're also getting treated with the same little services he does for his Dad

although as he grew older, he started being more concerned at the amount of sweets his Dad takes 

If Zayne's constantly pestering you about your health, now he's getting a taste of his own medicine by a mini version of him hiding his stashes of sweets little by little

“Son, we don't have a history of diabetes in our heredity.” Zayne argues, as Casey hugs his stash of chocolates he swore he's hidden in his locked drawer.

“But that doesn't mean you can't.. A small chance is still a chance. ” Cae retorts back as he pinches his nose bridge, and Zayne swears he's looking at a mirror right now.

“How do you even..” Zayne sighs, feeling both proud and defeated because his 8 year old little genius son is actually right. “Cae, I haven't even gotten any sweets this entire day.”

“You had cake, ice cream, and chocolates yesterday—and a smoothie!”

Zayne sighs again, heavier. Unfortunately, that was also true, and it shouldn't have been something he knew about unless..

"Did your mom put you up to this?" Zayne asks. Casey shifts on his feet, averting his gaze, clearly uncomfortable being eyed by his father at the moment. A smile quirks on Zayne's lips.

"No.." Casey answers after a beat of silence, clearly a lie, and Zayne wants to pinch his puffed cheeks. He looked more like you at that moment, absolutely adorable. Something was squeezing Zayne's chest right now.

"Hm.. Well, do I at least get another alternative?" Zayne tries to bargain.

"Um.. I don't know..?" Casey answers honestly.

Zayne settles down his swivel chair, arms beckoning him to come closer, and Casey does. He gets pulled on his father's left thigh, eyes confused at Zayne snickering at him.

"Since you lied—" Cae tenses in his hold, "—I'm just gonna chew you instead."

"Wha—No!" Casey begins to helplessly wiggle out of Zayne's secure grip, but his cheek was already being bitten by his dad. No real teeth, as Zayne tucked his lips inward to cover them.

The office was filled with childish giggling as Zayne continues to relieves his stress through cuteness aggression, play biting and tickling him to near tears.

𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 — “Lili” , “Lianne”

youngest daughter with a 4 year age gap from Casey, and to say the least: a Danger Magnet

single handed increased Zayne's gray hairs and high blood pressure tendencies before age 40 

the baby proofing of the house gets doubled

truly a spitting image of You, except with her father's verdant green and hazel golden eyes

even more unfortunate for Zayne, she's got your prankster habits

she's double jointed, making her extremely flexible.. and also prone to dislocations.

she does a backflip in front of Zayne and he nearly dies of a heart attack because he thought she would crack her head open

at age 3, put lotion on Zayne's coffee. no one knows the reason why, except now you hide all your skincare somewhere else and Zayne now knows what SPF tastes like

at age 4, attempted to wrestle with a wild goose at the park, towering over her small frame.. her battle scars are still evident well into her teens

at age 5, managed to get a hold of some alcohol thinking it was juice… yeh You and Zayne can never ever rest

but despite all that, Zayne, You, and Casey are extremely supportive of her passion as a figure skater

saw Yuzuru Hanyu once live and it stuck to her ever since, begging and crying Zayne and You to allow her to train

growing up, she's The Yapper of the family—doesn’t matter if you listen to her or not, she will talk. sometimes it's like Zayne's personal white noise ASMR to lull him to sleep.

and contrary to all that's happened in her childhood, she does value her family's trust in her, especially Zayne's

and is actually very responsible, never does alcohol (she remembers the taste ever since.. it was not nice), hates the smell of smoke/vape, never goes beyond the curfew, and actually takes good care of her health and wellness more consistently than Casey ironically

competitive at heart, also a perfectionist.. maybe a little more than Cae. 

‘second place is the first loser’ mentality 

at age of 19, she's an internationally competitive and well renowned skater

her relationship with her Dad has its ups and downs, but she's never taken their misunderstandings into grudges, as communication is very important to her to establish trust

if her brother is acts of service in showing love, she's definitely quality of time

she's very outgoing, preferring to spend time together doing activities, from simple night walks in the park, coffee hang outs, to wall climbing and hiking

literally gets bored out her mind staying at home for more than half a day

a major travel girlie, with a vast collection of photos and vlogs—and you bet Zayne has them all watched and saved (and its also her way of documentation that, yes, she's in fact safe and sound)

the family will always try to attend every major competition Lianne has no matter how busy they get, securing tickets and lodgings months in advance if it's overseas

Zayne's chest swells with pride, watching her glide gracefully on ice, burning passion in her eyes. You squeeze his hand and hold your breath every single time she's about to attempt a triple axle, and he too would squeeze back. immediately, you would squeal in delight at her successful landings, cheering loudly and borderline embarrassing.

“THAT'S MY GIRL!!” 

both of you have witnessed the blood, sweat, and tears she's poured in every practice, being there for her as much you can every step of the way

definitely shares the same sweet tooth as Zayne, so they're sneaking each other sweets behind You and Cae’s back.

often jokes that she's Zayne's true child because of it and Cae just rolls his eyes at her every time. "Nothing screams father-daughter more than matching cavities I guess."

Zayne and Lianne have their favorite spots for their sweet tooth adventures, most notably their whole family’s favorite: Destiny's Cafe

Walking down Linkon City’s city lights, the cool autumn night air blows through the streets. It made Lianne shiver, snuggling closer to her father's arm she's hooked her own to. Zayne raises his eyebrow at her, placing a hand over hers.

He sighs. “This is why you should have taken that scarf, Lili.”

“Eh, it's fiiine—I’m always on ice, this is nothing. Plus, I have my dad.” Lianne leans on his shoulder and she throws him a smile, and he returns it.

“You really know what to say, hm?” He chuckles. 

They arrive at their usual night cafe spot, soaking in the warmth provided by the establishment. Lianne insisted she would be the one treating them tonight, Zayne relenting reluctantly after some time.

“You know, your brother would be scolding us again if he sees us here for the third time this week.” Zayne chuckles as their slices of cake and cups of coffee arrive on their table.

Lianne laughs. “Don't worryyy, he's on duty until tomorrow morning, and Mom can't snitch either since she's on a mission. Besides..” she trails off as she took a bite of her own slice, Zayne not catching the mischievous glint in her eyes.

Zayne takes a piece in his mouth, and as he began to chew, the moistness of the sweet treat was both familiar and.. wrong. He looks back up at her, seeing her little smirk.

“.. it's a healthy cake.” 

“!—Lianne-” Zayne hastily swallows the piece and downs his coffee as she began to laugh at his agony of realization.

It was Casey's favorite flavor: carrot cake.

11:11──────────────────────────|──

acc tags: @starmocha @77gigabytes tysm for your zayne kids hcs aaaaa they rlly inspired me more and i got rlly excited when my own hcs appeared in urs <333

[klinefelterrible]

sooo I’m doing it for @k-kizkhalifa :} Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

There are times when I daydream a lot about a certain idea, like for example about the one about pairing Ron with Blaise, but mostly it’s just a Boom! and if I don’t write it now, it’s dead and gone.

Where do you get your fic ideas?

I imagine my (as in “original but in my way” or headcanonly or au) characters during certain activities (mostly: fucking) and I add something or someone extra, or I set the scene right before or after - as it comes to me.

Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

I rarely have a big idea that is different than a shortie I am writing or wrote already, but in my head it’s like once I say it, it’s done and gone - so sharing is equal to abandoning it most likely forever

How do you choose which fics to write?

Since I don’t understand the question really I will try answering how I feel it: I choose just by how I feel about right now. When I think of Eomer, I write about Eomer. As simple as that.

How many wips do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

GURL YOU NOT READY!

I have many wips, mostly of HP wizarding world, and probably sometime soon I will release another chapter of two halves of Draco’s broken wand and my favourite pairing there is Draco/Bill Weasley and Fred/George/Hermione and since it’s me, it’s going to be juicy as fuck. Literally.

What’s the last line you wrote?

“He’s a cuckoo”

Post a snippet from a wip.

Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

Draco is being blackmailed and fucked by Bill Weasley

Does this word [chosen by asker] appear in your current wip?

Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time?

M u l t i p l e

Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

I truly have no idea what I’m doing

Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

It depends. For Lucy I invented a whole new interest and branch of magical creatures for Lucius to be interested in and for the moment I was even sad that I am doing all this work to finish it with some porn scene.

Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

Rarely as I am bilingual and most of the music I listen to is English so I get distracted very easily

What is your favorite location and position to write in?

Any. Sometimes I park my car on my driveway and just START WRITING

What’s your favorite time to write?

Any. No particular favourite time. But I don’t like meal time to use on writing if I really must differentiate between this or that

Do you write by hand, on your phone, or on your laptop?

99% phone.

Do you have a writing routine?

I barely have any routines!

Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research?

Research yes, sometimes a lot! But for a fic? They don’t require much researching… maybe just checking if I remember something correctly or not.

Do you enjoy creating OCs or do you prefer to stick solely to canon characters?

I like creating OCs based on characters from other fiction and I am not ashamed at all.

Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

Asking that a guy who writes hardcore gay porn from Wizarding World…

Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

Why not both at once?

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

I hate titling!

Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest?

I never know how to end stuff. Ever. Anything. I have to force myself to shut the fuck up.

How do you choose whose POV to write in?

I don’t like POVs

What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

The part when I am just a finger that clicks and my subconsciousness does everything else.

What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

Making sure it all makes sense! Fuck. That!

What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Area of writing? As in I AM A DIALOGUE MASTER and a little bitch for remembering what the fuck did I start with

What area of writing do you want to improve in?

I won’t improve in remembering so maybe I can start making sense more…?

What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

I can make literally anything about gay men crossdressing or women wearing high heels and sometimes I can even make them sassy. I am not proud of myself at all so whatever

How much do you edit your fics? Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

Wips are being edited hard, especially longshots. I write, I stop, I edit two weeks later, I write and so on and it all depends on my mood.

Do you use a beta reader/editor?

Only for bigger or more serious projects and even then extremely rarely because I don’t know anyone that committed to my writing or weird enough and with so much free time

Do you take fic requests? Why or why not?

I WOULD TAKE REQUESTS ANYTIME BUT BEAR IN MIND THAT I AM NOT VERY GOOD AND YOU WILL SUFFER A LOT OF GAYNESS AND WEIRD SEX IN THEM, hit me up only if you’re ready for some hardcore porn or smut or sass

Is there a specific word count that you hold yourself to/enjoy writing the most?

I never think of that

How much of your personal life/experience do you include in your fics?

Barely anything other than sass and heels and my own stupidity

What’s your favorite fic you’ve posted?

I am currently a fan of my short incorrect quotes, it’s my most recent and most read work on ao3.

What fic are you proudest of?

Two Halves of Draco’s broken wand maybe?

What fic has been the hardest for you to write?

WHAT IS WIP IS A WIP BECAUSE IT IS HARD FOR SOME REASON

What is your most self-indulgent posted story?

Everyone would want a friend like you

What’s your most self-indulgent wip?

all of them :>

What is your favorite world that you’ve created for a fic?

I honestly have no clue!

Who’s your favorite character you’ve written?

From a fic? I enjoy writing young Narcissa, but frankly speaking I loved writing young Lucius and adult Draco.

What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

I hate titling! Next question!

Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

Next question!

What is your favorite genre to write?

Genre… as in dialogue-based fantasy weirdness?

What genre/trope do you tend to write the most?

PORN

If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

one type as in the one where guys that canonically don’t fuck all of the sudden do?

Is there a trope that you’ve written before but are now sick of?

naaah

Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

my most favourite of all times character is Sam Vimes but I don’t want to write ff about him really that much

What fic of yours would you say is the best introduction to you as a writer?

oh geez if you really need to think of me as a writer, please don’t read my fanfics EVER, I am writing them for fun and for fun only

How would you describe your writing style?

Funny, weird and sometimes even full of meaningful connections between the characters

Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

I try to be as good as my favourite writers!

What’s the average word count of your fics?

as me if I care about the numbers again and I will start telling random things

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

maybe… blow jobs? High heels?

What’s the fandom/pairing distribution of your posted fics?

Harry/Draco!

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

well yeah, blowjobs, denial, high heels, netorare, crossdressing, getting convinced, girls knowing and getting what they want… stuff like that

Are there any fics that you would change or rewrite if given the chance?

If I had, they’d be done already

How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

I have no idea. Next!

Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

No idea. Next!

Have you participated in any fic events/writing challenges? If yes, what were they and did you enjoy them?

not yet! I plan on getting at drarry in january 2025!

Arethere any fics that influenced you to write the way you do?

The only fics that ever influenced me to write anyhow were Guarding Dark and some other fic about Sphene/Zeiat from but it was about writing more, not how

What are your favorite fics at the moment?

previously mentioned Guarding Dark, about death of Sam Vimes and dwarvish mine sign that happened afterwards. A very good fic, really a small treasure.

Are you subscribed to any writers on AO3?

no… I am a terrible subscription reader, I never have time and I always postpone to the point I hate myself

Do you spend more time reading or writing?

lately writing, but it’s a wave

What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

that someone read my book/story/fic and loved it or that it resonated with them somehow

What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing?

that it is funny I guess

Do you have a fic you wish got a bit more love?

yeah all the shorties that got little to no hearts on tumblr, it’s always that longer one that someone didn’t read whole I presume… if it’s long I had an idea! Not always a good one, but long idea anyway

Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?

yeah my collection of those shortest fics is currently my most read anything on ao3 like wtf

How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

there is no external pressure but internally I am in a constant state of chaos so I really have no idea what I’m doing. Sometimes I feel pressure, sometimes I don’t.

Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

are you kidding me? It makes me happy, it makes other people happy and it’s an act of creation so naturally I enjoy that. Also that bitch jkr did nothing to make them more interesting so I had to make a stand for them

What motivates you during the writing process?

a thought that “this will be fun”

Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

just write anytime you feel like writing, if you don’t have an idea for a name or some other detail, simply put [name] or [detail] and continue and it will clarify later if the character is Clark Bones, an architect who likes tomatoes or a Roan Desmond Ruttington, a gardener who killed his mother’s lover when he was twelve and noone ever found out; never let yourself stumble on some minor details and change major things AFTER you write an entire chapters or bigger parts, really, you will thank me later. Also if you write sex, please please please remember that fucking is a machine-like activity and courting and talking about it must be witty, with a good taste and if not that, at least dont be gross and remember that there is nothing less fun than gross AND boring sex scenes.

Thank you, Kiz!

Fanfiction Writing Asks

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Where do you get your fic ideas?

Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

How do you choose which fics to write?

How many wips do you have?  What fandoms/pairings are they for?

What’s the last line you wrote?

Post a snippet from a wip.

Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

Does this word [chosen by asker] appear in your current wip?

Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time?

Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Do you listen to music while you write?  If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

What is your favorite location and position to write in?

What’s your favorite time to write?

Do you write by hand, on your phone, or on your laptop?

Do you have a writing routine?

Do you enjoy research?  Which fic of yours required the most research?

Do you enjoy creating OCs or do you prefer to stick solely to canon characters?

Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest?

How do you choose whose POV to write in?

What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

What area of writing do you want to improve in?

What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

How much do you edit your fics?  Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

Do you use a beta reader/editor?

Do you take fic requests?  Why or why not?

Is there a specific word count that you hold yourself to/enjoy writing the most?

How much of your personal life/experience do you include in your fics?

What’s your favorite fic you’ve posted?

What fic are you proudest of?

What fic has been the hardest for you to write?

What is your most self-indulgent posted story?

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Who’s your favorite character you’ve written?

What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

What is your favorite genre to write?

What genre/trope do you tend to write the most?

If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Is there a trope that you’ve written before but are now sick of?

Who is your favorite character to write for?  Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

What fic of yours would you say is the best introduction to you as a writer?

How would you describe your writing style?

Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

What’s the average word count of your fics?

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

What’s the fandom/pairing distribution of your posted fics?

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics?  Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Are there any fics that you would change or rewrite if given the chance?

How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

Have you participated in any fic events/writing challenges?  If yes, what were they and did you enjoy them?

In [insert fic], what inspired the idea for the plot?

In [insert fic], what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

In [insert fic], is there a deleted scene/idea you wish you could have included?  Why did it get cut?

What was the hardest part of writing [insert fic]?

If you rewrote [insert fic] now, would you change anything?

If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would happen in it?

What’s a fun fact about [insert fic]?

If a fic was titled [insert made up title], what would this story be about/how would you write it?

Are there any fics that influenced you to write the way you do?

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What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

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Do you have a fic you wish got a bit more love?

Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?

How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

What motivates you during the writing process?

Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

Free space - asker can come up with any writing or fic-related question they want!

[solxamber]

Helloooo!! I want to request Leona's bodyguard reader x Malleus draconia

The reader has been Leona's bodyguard since they was a child.

They are calm and serious people. They look strong and intimidating on the outside, but in reality they are gentle, humble, kind, and have always been by Leona's side, both in good and bad times.

And I thought it would be funny if Leona found out that his bodyguard was dating Malleus Draconia.

Malleus Draconia x Leona’s Bodyguard! Reader

thank you for waiting, i hope you like it <3

You’ve been Leona’s bodyguard since you were both kids—a quiet, steady shadow to his sharp glare and princely airs. Through tantrums and triumphs, through wild hunts and royal galas, you’re the one constant in his life.

Calm, grounded, intimidating on the outside but with a deep well of patience and kindness on the inside, you’ve been there for him through thick and thin. Even if he rarely says it, you’re pretty sure Leona trusts you more than anyone.

But recently, your attention has been caught by someone else. Malleus Draconia. You’re not sure how it even started—a mutual nod at some formal event, a brief, stolen conversation under the stars—but somehow, you’re drawn to him in ways you hadn’t expected.

His reputation as a brooding, powerful mage is well known, but when he’s with you, he seems... softer. Gentler.

You’re surprised to find yourself laughing with him over small things, finding moments of peace in his quiet company, and even catching yourself looking forward to seeing him.

One night, after a particularly stressful royal banquet, Malleus pulls you aside into a secluded part of the garden. The air is thick with the scent of night-blooming flowers, and the soft glow of the moon gives everything a silver hue.

Malleus looks at you with a tenderness that leaves you breathless, a look so deep and genuine that it shatters your carefully maintained composure.

“Is it... strange that I feel so at peace with you?” he asks, his voice barely a murmur.

You shake your head, feeling your heart hammering as he takes a step closer, his fingers brushing yours. “I don’t think so. I feel it too.”

With a gentle hand, Malleus lifts your chin and leans down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s soft, almost reverent. For a moment, the world falls away, and you’re just two people, finding something precious in the most unexpected of places.

From that moment on, a quiet romance blossoms between you. It’s filled with stolen glances, secret late-night walks, and a warmth you never thought you’d find in the life of a royal bodyguard.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for someone to notice. After returning from one of those quiet rendezvous with Malleus, you find Leona sprawled on a couch, eyes narrowed with a smirk that tells you he knows far too much.

“So,” he drawls, “when were you planning to tell me about your little... lizard liaison?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lizard liaison?”

Leona’s grin widens. “Yeah. You’re sneaking around with that overgrown gecko, right?”

You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “First of all, he’s a dragon, not a lizard. And second, I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

Leona just cackles, clearly entertained by the way you’re trying to stay calm. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my bodyguard, not his. You do realize the guy’s got enough power to raze a kingdom?”

You cross your arms, trying not to let him get to you. “Malleus is nothing like that. He’s... actually very kind.”

Leona stares at you, somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. “Yeah, kind. Right. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me he’s got a soft spot for kittens and flowers.”

You sigh, more out of resignation than anything. “Leona, it’s not like that. He’s... he’s different from what people think.”

He raises an eyebrow, then shrugs, stretching lazily. “Fine, whatever. Go ahead and play damsel to the dragon. Just don’t get eaten.” He smirks again, like he’s thought of something funny. “But hey, if things get too weird, I’ll send a rescue party.”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “I’ll keep that in mind.” But as you walk away, you can’t help but feel oddly reassured by Leona’s grumbling.

Days turn into weeks, and your relationship with Malleus deepens. You’re careful to keep things quiet, but when he’s by your side, everything feels lighter, even as the duties of court life weigh on you.

Finally, after a long day of meetings, you and Malleus find a moment to yourselves in the garden. He reaches for your hand, a rare look of uncertainty crossing his face.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I never thought... I would find someone who sees me, not as a prince, but as simply... Malleus.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his. “I’ve always seen you as Malleus. And I always will.”

Just then, a familiar, exasperated voice cuts through the moment. “Seriously?” Leona drawls, standing there with his arms crossed and looking at you both with a mix of exasperation and vague amusement. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re off canoodling with him?”

You half-expect Malleus to take offense, but he only smirks, and you—well, you’re too used to Leona’s antics to be embarrassed. You just shrug, as if to say, Yep, you caught me.

Leona gives an exaggerated sigh and rubs his temple. “Just don’t start spouting nonsense about gargoyles or some weird fae magic nonsense. Last thing I need is you turning into a bat or whatever.”

Before turning to leave, he adds, almost too casually, “And, hey, Lizard—make sure you don’t screw this up. I’d hate to have to break in another bodyguard.” He waves a dismissive hand, like he couldn’t care less, but there’s something in his tone, a reluctant warmth, that lets you know he does.

With a laugh, you thank him, and Leona just shakes his head, muttering something about “lizard-brained idiots.” But as you walk off with Malleus by your side, you know that no amount of Leona’s teasing can dampen the feeling you have—the feeling that somehow, against all odds, you’ve found someone who truly makes you feel whole.

Masterlist

[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part one)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: 1.3k words

PART TWO (coming soon)

Agatha Harkness was a terrible boss. In the five years you had been working as her assistant, you had her schedule memorised, you constantly tried to anticipate her needs, and yet, she could barely remember your name. And that wasn’t the only flaw, oh no. There was the erratic behaviour, her quickness to anger, the fact that she always teetering the line between serious and sarcastic, so you could never quite tell whether she meant what she had said. Which would be your excuse if she attempted to criticise your response time to her latest question.

It's just… there was no way she was being serious… Right?

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that last part, please?” You asked slowly, steadily lowering the file in your hands to pay full attention to Agatha. She was sat at her desk, looking up at you as though you were an idiot. So, like usual.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to get down on one knee.” Agatha scoffed, and when you didn’t respond, quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’m just having a hard time comprehending what you’re asking of me.” You spluttered out.

She exhaled, clearly irritated. Then leant forwards over the desk and demanded, “Marry me,” punctuating each word with the intensity of her glare.

Under her scrutiny, you could feel your cheeks flushing. She never usually paid this much attention to you unless she needed something, which was rare. But this was too far. It had to be some kind of test surely. Of what, you weren’t sure. Loyalty? Dedication? Insanity?

After a beat of silence, you finally remembered to respond. “You’re insane.”  You folded your arms across your chest, still in disbelief that she would ever ask such a thing. You knew Agatha was unpredictable, dramatic, terrifying even, but never could you have imagined her saying such a thing on this unassuming Thursday afternoon. She never brought her personal life into work, and so why she would want to bring her work (aka you) into her home, her bed, well- it was a mystery.

Your cheeks grew redder at the image your mind conjured up. You and the boss, in bed, together.

The silence continued, and you summoned the resolve to look back at Agatha. She was staring up at you expectantly, and you realised that, despite your aghast reaction, she was still awaiting a response.

“No!” You exclaimed, mouth agape.

At this, her red lips stretched back into a malicious grin. “I wasn’t asking, dear.”

Something about her teasing smile and her mildly threatening words flustered you. “Well… you can’t make me.” You responded futilely. You knew she could. This was Agatha Harkness, after all. She could make anyone do anything.

And yet… “No, I can’t.” Agatha conceded with a simple shrug.

This caught you off guard. You frowned down at her, wondering if this was some form of reverse psychology.

“But what I can do is offer something in return.” Agatha winked, and if you weren’t flustered enough before, you certainly were now.

You took a moment to breathe. To calm the way your heart raced in your chest. You recognised the innuendo to her words, but knew the connotations likely lay in more entrepreneurial benefits. A promotion. A raise perhaps. The possibilities were endless, and all of them would help you to pay the rent. Now that, you couldn’t pass up on so easily.

“But why?” You asked, quieter, reluctant to admit to yourself that you were settling into the idea. “Why do you need to marry me?”

“Oh pfft,” Agatha waved a hand dismissively. “Not specifically you. This is nothing personal.”

“Oh great. That makes me feel so much better, thank you.” You snarked.

“Come on, you’re a clever girl.” Agatha narrowed her gaze, that teasing edge so easily returning to her tone. “You can figure it out.”

You paused to think, running through everything you knew about your boss. She lived alone, quite happily so, which ruled out any kind of breakdown. She was about ten years older than you, which meant this probably wasn’t a midlife crisis. But in terms of personal information, that was about all you knew. Agatha was a married to the job kind of woman, constantly in and out of meetings, often the last to leave the office. You had tried to outlast her one evening, but upon seeing the delivery guy arrive with enough food to survive the night, you had given up and headed home.

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, eyes briefly flickering about the office when an idea struck you.

“Earlier today…” You began, speaking cautiously slow. “You had a meeting scheduled with your immigration lawyer.”

“Atta girl.” Agatha leant back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“You’ve been putting off that meeting for weeks,” you continued.

“It didn’t seem important!”

“Well, I’m guessing your visa expired. And you panicked, because being deported would suck, so you lied and said you were engaged.”

“Bingo!” Agatha clapped her hands, as though this were some fun guessing game and not a huge life issue that would turn both your lives upside down. “Being deported would suck, as you so eloquently put it. I would lose my job, so god knows what would happen to you.” She pulled a face of mock concern, pointing a sharp finger in your direction. “And now all I need is some all-American idiot to get me that green card. Simple. Beneficial for us both, really.”

“No. Not simple. Not beneficial for us both.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “For one, with you gone I might actually get a normal boss.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” She quipped. “Plus, me being gone would certainly halt your progression up the ranks- and where would you ever find a better recommendation than from your boss turned wife, huh toots?”

Agatha was talking with such rationality that it was giving you a migraine. You pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to soothe it. “Please take a moment to think about this. I mean is it even allowed? The whole employer, employee relationship?”

“Oh, stop with your worrying. I wasn’t the one who hired you.”

“And you really can’t think of anyone else to do this?” You implored, though you were afraid you already knew the answer.

“I admit I didn’t give it much thought, but what’s the problem? You’re not dating anyone, your family are abroad so they won’t get involved in any of it-”

“How do you know all this?” You interrupted, frowning. Clearly your prior assumption that she didn’t give you the time of day was incorrect.

“I’m observant.” She deadpanned. “So, it’s settled, we’ll get married, live apart for a year, then when the immigration office determines I’m not a threat to the country, we’ll get an uncontested divorce with two of the finest lawyers’ money can buy. Breeze it through the law courts and never speak of it again. You get your promotion; I don’t have my whole life uprooted.”

You hummed noncommittally, finding yourself at a loss for words.

“Great, I’m taking that as a yes!” Agatha stood up abruptly, striding past you to grab her coat. “Let’s hit the road!”

“What? Both of us?”

“Of course. You’re my besotted fiancée and we’ve got a immigration officer to chat with!” Agatha nudged open the office door, storming through the building without another word. You simply stood and watched her go, her long navy coat flapping behind her, swishing back and forth with every step. You momentarily entertained the thought that it was a cloak- that she was secretly an evil witch in disguise as your boss.

It was the only reasonable conclusion from what you had just been roped into.

Groaning, you reluctantly followed your soon-to-be wife, trying desperately to ignore the churning anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

NEXT PART

Notes: ok I need to fess up I don't have much of a plan for this fic and uni work is kicking my ass so my time is v limited. But I've always wanted to write something following the vague plot of The Proposal- the film this is based off in case you can't tell.... so, hope you enjoyed :)

[aspergerasparagus]

I wanted to ask, what do each of the Frankies think of the contestant?

Real Frankie:

He is the rabbit that likes the contestant a little too much. Obsessive and possessive he doesn't let them out of his sight unless he has a good reason to. And while he plays up the part of caring for the contestant, maybe even playing into the romance idea, there is absolutely no love there. He is manipulative, cunning and malicious at his core and the contestant is more than aware of this and knows how this is all going to play out in the end. When they no longer prove to be useful, Frankie will dispose of them. Will he be sad doing it, maybe, but in the end ending them with his own hands will the greatest thrill (plus think of the ratings!)! In the end, while he won't outright hurt the contestant (physically anyway) he still can't be trusted.

Cartoon Frankie:

"Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since you turned up on my show." (Insert AM speech here yadda yadda) So toon Frankie is the one who hates the contestant the most, despises them actually. They are the reason his show was "ruined" and why he finally lost and being the brat that he is he still holds the grudge regardless if the contestant saved the show in the end. But at the same time they are the only human to stand up to him, to talk back, to make jokes at his expense and it drives him mad. He wants to put this little human in their place and remind them who's in charge (how he plans to do that is really up to the imagination), see them on their knees begging for mercy but on the other hand wouldn't it be fun to be put into his place by them from time to time. He's very internally conflicted by the contestant, he wants them dead, he wants their undivided attention, he wants from pleading for their life, he wants them to talk down to him. He a mixed up bunny and that only pisses him off more.

Monster Frankie:

Simply, he wants to eat his face. He is straight to the point, he doesn't like the contestant (considering they did kill him) and will be hostile to him but know he can't do anything to him right now. So they kinda exist in a weird limbo, where yes Frankie will chase him, but he isn't trying to kill him, maybe throw him a round a little like a cat with a mouse but that's all. Until the next season of course. He isn't as vocal about his feelings towards them but it's clear he is still bitter about what happened but does at least hold some respect for them, hence why he listens to Real Frankie and not Toon Frankie about the contestant's fate. He rarely interacts with them due to the contestant being the most frightened of him but will occasionally drift around them like a house cat merely to spend time in their presence until he gets that look in his eye and it's time to play again.

[manctuf]

Art the clown × reader

First aid

Art was definitely shocked on one hand, and on the other he knew that he would still come back. In fact, he didn't understand what Sienna was fighting for, because it would have been much easier to die a few years ago than to suffer all her life from nightmares and expectations that he would come back again, and he would. Well, it was probably none of his business, an ordinary stupid person.

You weren't used to worrying about Art, because you knew that he was strong, much stronger than any person he could meet, but this time you weren't happy. Firstly, you didn't want to get just his head, secondly, you didn't understand what you could do there for so long, especially in the company of Vika, and thirdly... Your soul was scratching at the cats, it didn't matter.

And finally he appears. As always, covered in blood, and you weren't even surprised almost until you saw just a huge blood stain in the area of ​​his torso, and on his head, did they really try to touch him? You immediately frowned, quickly letting Art into the room, making him take off his shoes, because you had just recently cleaned up.

- you gave your word that you would deal with her quickly. - your voice was doomed, disappointed and angry at the same time. He shrugged, lowering the corners of his lips, which were outlined in black paint. In his hands, as always, was the horn, which he began to press, as if trying to amuse you, but you clearly did not feel like laughing. Of course, he simply could not die, but you could not get used to the fact that he was not like other people, and you wanted to show concern for the man you loved. He put his hands on your shoulders, squeezing and stroking them with the thumb of one hand, as if trying to calm you down and make you understand that everything was fine. But nothing was fine.

- Take off your clothes. - Usually, characteristic situations followed these words, but now there was not a hint of anything playful in your intonation. The clown raised his painted eyebrows in surprise, opening his eyes wide. - Darling, take off your clothes, please. I need to see how badly you were hurt. - The demon even looked down at the floor as if he was guilty, but still fulfilled your request while you went for the first aid kit.

Having taken wet wipes, cotton wool, alcohol, you went into the room, where Art, with his suit half-fluffed half to the waist, was sitting on the bed, his pants smeared with blood. Okay, so you still have to change the bed linen again.

- Are you in pain? - You knew that he felt pain, even though he was used to it, but in this sense he was no different from a person or any other living creature. You came closer, and at first began to simply gently wipe the blood around the deep wound, it was unpleasant to watch, but Art sat motionless, attentively, like a small child watching your actions, until you touched his wound with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. His fingers tensed and dug into the mattress, ready to tear it at any moment, even seemed to stop breathing, but obviously, he did not utter a word. You chuckled, and continued your work. Ideally, he generally needed to put a stitch to properly stop the bleeding, but you knew that his sores healed very quickly, well, compared to other people.

When this was done, you sent Art to the shower, because it was not right to be so dirty, and threw his suit in the washing machine, although ideally it should have been thrown away, but you will sew it up.

- just don't mess with her.. Please. — She spoke quietly somewhere into his chest, starting to talk about Sienna, because of whom all this happened. You were grateful that he came to you, and did not arrive in a wheelchair. He stroked your hair silently, saying nothing, but you knew that he heard and understood. You repaid him with kindness, even though he did not need it, helped to treat the wounds, and he gave you the tenderness that you rarely see from him, which you were glad about, after all, he is such that love and affection are the last thing you expect from him.

[cilil]

Hi, do you have any advices for budding writers on AO3 or here?

Hey! :)

I've given this some thought and compiled what I hope might be some helpful pointers, but if there's anything else or anything specific you want to hear more about, feel free to ask again. Also I'm assuming this is about the amazing craft of fanfic and not, uh, building a platform or whatever (I wouldn't be very helpful with that, I'm a nobody x)).

Share what you feel comfortable sharing.

So since you're asking about budding writers on AO3 and Tumblr, I take it you're at a point where you feel comfortable sharing your writing online, which is amazing. Nevertheless, I feel the need to once again mention (just for anyone who may be in the same or a similar situation) that it's completely alright not to be comfortable with it (yet) or not to share everything you write. I share almost everything simply because I'm annoying and it makes me feel accomplished and since I've grown pretty comfortable with it, I might as well; but not everyone feels that way and feelings also change. It's completely alright to write just for yourself or a small circle of friends.

Don't worry too much about "being good".

I will be the first to admit that I deeply relate to struggling with perfectionism when it comes to writing (and other creative pursuits). However, as someone who's been reading fic for many years, tends to be into quite niche and obscure things sometimes and is rarely spoiled by big fandoms' abundance of food, I want all writers, especially new ones, to know that you don't have to write the most amazing, perfect, publishing-ready pieces. What matters is your passion and creativity, which will show in your writing regardless of skill level. Not to mention that fic is free and in fact a tool for many to experiment.

That's not to say you can't strive to improve or be good - by all means, I find it admirable if you want to hone your craft and make progress as you continue to write. Just don't let perfectionism ruin your fun and stifle your creativity.

How to get better without trying overly hard.

Aside from just writing, writing and writing (that is the most important part though), how do you improve without making it a point to do so? Well, if it works for you to read/watch guides or you enjoy specific writing exercises, that's great, but one thing that I find gets overlooked a lot in writing spaces is simply: Reading. Just reading for fun.

I find that I often discover little things in other people's writing that I really like and then I think to myself "wow, that's really neat how they did that, maybe I could take a page out of their book" (pun intended) and make it a point to pay attention to these things when I write. Essentially, it's like creating a nice patchwork blanket which is your style, made up of your own voice and preferences as a writer and cool stuff you picked up on the road.

Let me just name some examples, which, yes, are also an excuse to shamelessly blow some writer friends of mine a well-deserved kiss of appreciation. @sauron-kraut writes incredibly polished short stories with beautiful wording and atmosphere that have a lot of little hidden things to discover and dissect, and I want to steal her ability to set the stage and hide those easter eggs. @a-world-of-whimsy-5 is an absolute legend when it comes to writing medieval and medieval-adjacent stuff, and I learned so much from her fics. @i-did-not-mean-to has a way of writing with such esprit and wit that I always end up in a good mood after, a style of narrative voice I've adored for over a decade, and I've greatly improved my humorous writing in particular thanks to her. @crackinthecup has the marvelous ability to craft extremely emotionally evocative scenes, which have encouraged me to be more courageous and experimental in my sentence melody and structure. @tragedybunny has a way of writing that reminds me of coming home to a warm and comfy place, and I will find out how she did it and how I can do it as well.

So as you can see, it can be super helpful to compare notes with your fellow writers. Never be discouraged by someone else's ability; instead learn and expand your own.

Feedback, criticism and community.

Let me just get one thing out of the way: You don't have to take criticism from everyone. Or at all. As far as I understand, the fanfic community has come to to agree that we're doing this for fun and don't give criticism unprompted/when we aren't sure it's wanted or welcome. As a general rule: Take criticism from those you would also seek advice from. Ask for feedback if you feel comfortable, and if not, that's a valid boundary to have and I will gently smack anyone who presumes to pick apart writing that was made for fun and generously shared with the community for free.

The community aspect, however, should be taken into account on other fronts. While I won't tell anyone they have to interact and believe that, in an ideal world, everyone's writing would just speak for itself, it is helpful to engage with the community. Things you can do (both on Tumblr and AO3 if also applicable/possible) include: Respond to people interacting with your works, interacting with other people's works (for example while you're doing your reading sessions and looking at other writers' styles) and just overall being present, being talkative, going with the flow.

Again, this is not a must. But I will say that pretty much all of us want positive responses and interactions on their work and that just won't work if you expect everyone to show up for you all the time and never show up for anyone else. Engagement, passion and community are our "currency" in the absence of money and reciprocity is an important element of that. A lot of friction and complaints in the fanfic community regarding lack of interaction or entitlement are rooted in misunderstandings of this fundamental principle.

But don't take this in a cynical manner. Seek out what you enjoy, share the joy and passion and you'll make friends just accidentally - which is the part that I find makes fandom on AO3 and Tumblr so much fun! (I don't even want to be a "traditional" author anymore, I want this instead😁)

Find your groove and groove along.

Lastly, make sure your writing is fun for you or else it'll become a chore and eventually get ruined for you as a hobby. This is unfortunately a continuous task as your needs and interests shift - for example you might be in the mood to do an entire drabble challenge one month and during another month you feel so drained that you couldn't do another one. Or you might want to write something different for a change. Or whatever it may be.

Either way, one recent lesson I've learned is that I got too tied up in obligations and it left no space for spontaneous inspiration, so I never got to write what I wanted to write in the moment and it pushed me quite close to burnout. Do yourself a favor and always hold that space for yourself. In practice, this could for example mean that you do one event and on the side write this cool new idea you had, instead of doing three events - which is fun and games until it starts getting too much and you don't have time for your passion projects.

Finding your groove also includes the whole technical aspect, such as which writing programs you use, which device (or none at all), where you write, how to make yourself comfortable, how to get in the right headspace for things. I would also like to encourage all of you to be a bit crazy and whimsical about this: For example I've gone to the perfume store, picked out a scent for a specific character in a specific scene and sniffed it while writing the description several times now. Do what it takes. And say goodbye to your squeaky clean search history - you will research some weird stuff just to get that one line right.

So yeah, these are just my random thoughts on fic writing and what has been helpful in order for me to have lots of fun with this hobby. Happy writing!

[smolbeanie1221]

I’m aroace, I don’t experience sexual or romantic attraction at all, as best as I can tell. In a book about asexuality, Ace: What Asexuality Reveals about Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex, the author talks about how people who don’t experience sexual attraction have to explain that by trying to explain exactly what it is that they lack, and how can you explain something or be sure you don’t experience it if it’s something you lack? Anyways that’s partly what I mean when I said “as best as I can tell” because I honestly have no idea what sexual or romantic attraction actually feels like. I am almost certain I’ve never experienced sexual attraction, and I’m fairly sure I’ve never experienced romantic attraction. I would say that I’ve experienced romantic yearning, a desire for romantic feelings and a romantic relationship, but I can’t say for sure that I’ve ever actually experienced romantic attraction.

The way I experience attraction to people that I want to date or have some type of committed relationship, partnership, whatever you want to call it, the type of attraction I have to those people is what I consider alterous. Alterous attraction is commonly described as being something in between romantic and platonic, and I would agree and say for me, that it is also between sexual. I can’t describe an attraction I don’t consciously experience, I can’t describe sexual or romantic attraction, and while I know what platonic attraction and queerplatonic attraction both feel like because I have felt those, trying to describe those attractions is difficult. For me, alterous attraction is somewhere between all those types of attraction, and I would say the attraction I could most clearly name and describe for my partners or people I wanted to be my partners would be queerplatonic. But it’s more than just queerplatonic for me, exactly what it feels like alters depending on the person, the situation, unknown factors. But it never reaches anything I could actually name as truly romantic or truly sexual, and it rarely seems to alter into purely platonic attraction, and if it does change into purely platonic, it would be how I feel towards an ex that I’m on good terms with or have fond memories of.

Another way I could describe alterous attraction, without using the pre-existing terms of other forms of attraction, is say that it’s an attraction to the feeling of intimacy from that person. I haven’t figured out a good way to phrase that yet, but basically it’s being attracted to a person because of the sense of intimacy you feel with and from them. And yes, this might sound very similar to demi- types of attraction, where emotional connection is necessary. And someone could easily describe demi- types of attraction the same way I just described alterous. I did used to identify as demi-rose, demiromantic and demisexual, because of the emotional connection and intimacy that I needed in order to form an attraction to someone. But there was still that missing element. There was an attraction, yes, but it still wasn’t either those elusive romantic butterflies-in-the-stomach or the spark and heat of sexual attraction. My attraction to those people, whom I had an emotional connection and sense of intimacy with, my attraction to them still remained distinctly other. And that’s why I started identifying my attraction as alterous and dropping the demi-rose label, because I never quite got the rose part.

And this is only talking about my alterous attraction, my attraction specifically to people I would want to “date” in some sense of the word.

There’s aesthetic attraction, sensual attraction, and other types of attraction that I might feel.

Towards literally anyone, regardless of their gender, I might feel basically any type of attraction other than romantic or sexual.

Aesthetic attraction is probably the one I feel most often and usually the only type of attraction I might feel towards a complete stranger. Sensual attraction, which I would say for me is an appreciation of their body (rather than just their appearance which I personally say is aesthetic attraction), sensual attraction is much more rare and I think it’s only been a couple actors I felt that towards. And sensual attraction, for me it has nothing to do with sex or desire, although it is probably the closest I’ve gotten to understanding sexual attraction.

My point in all this, aroace literally only has to do with two types of attraction, romantic and sexual. There are so many other kinds of attraction, but allo people typically experience them at the same time as they experience sexual and/or romantic attraction, so they aren’t always aware of them.

If you’re aroace, how can you be pan/bi/les/gay etc…?

YOU JUST DON’T GET IT OKAY?

[sillyhahasilly]

Can we plz have some headcanons for Cal/Andre comforting the other one after a bad day? :) 💗

caldre hurt/comfort hcs!!

such a good idea bro.

when andre has had a bad day it's usually bc smth (bullying) happened at school or he got overwhelmed with emotional anger from whatever. he becomes more snappy and erratic. he has quiet panic attacks where he doesn't cry or shake or anything and all of it happens in his head. others don't notice, but cal isn't others. andre isn't happy that cal can read him like a book bc he doesn't like being emotionally vulnerable, but there is not much he can do abt that.

to comfort andre cal:

let's him angerly rant abt wtv is bothering him. he watches andre get embrassingly mad abt it, but doesn't say anything, letting andre express his emotions w out even jokingly making fun of him because andre rarely opens up anyway.

brings up the upcoming zd and how they are going to show everyone, saying how none of the shit people do to andre means anything bc andre is sm better than them. cal knows how andre views zd as sort of childlike justice and destruction, and letting him fall back on that belief makes andre feel better.

joking around w andre abt unrelated shit to wtv is bothering him. making him smile and laugh and momentarily forget abt life is smth cal is very good at.

planning smth for them to do that he knows andre would go along w without question. he will tell him, pick me up at this time, and when he's picked up he says, let's go here. he leads them to places or things that andre will enjoy.

grounding touch when andre let's him. a hand on his shoulder or back, rubbing circles into his arm or wrist, a hug that's a little awkward.

grounding touch when they cross the line into becoming more of a romantic/sexual unlabeled relationship is different tho. cal will spoon andre and put his arms around him. play with the hair on the back of his neck. kiss his neck non sexually. (nsfw warning) distract him w consensual sexual favors, like blowing him.

when cal is upset it's usually bc of his derealization and dissociation and/or desire to die, sometimes happening for no decernable reason while other times bc smth at school triggered it. he zones out and his conversations and actions are disjointed from reality. think the last scene in the car before the shooting where cal took a while to respond to anything andre said as an example.

to comfort cal, andre:

invites him to do some mindless tasks w him, like play video games. he sometimes w drive them somewhere but tell cal he needs his help w directions from a map or smth bc that keeps cal's mind in the forefront.

I think andre would be very aware of cal's emotional state all the time, even tho it's not obv. cal doesn't think andre can tell at all. andre js doesn't know what to do to help and he gets in his head about it, not wanting to make things worse bc he silently cares sm.

he learned quick that talking abt zd can make things worse for cal when he is in those states, so he avoids it.

he invites cal to stay the night at his house so he can be away from his busy family of whom he would need to mask around.

he js let's cal talk slow and dissociate, whether it's good for him of not. cal appreciates it tho bc he feels like someone is always trying to get him to be normal, so it's nice to js be.

cal likes hugs, so andre hugs him even tho he is weird abt physical affection at times.

when things have been really bad w cal for a while, andre will buy a new video game or cd for them to share together to try and cheer him up. it sometimes works.

there ya go!! if anyone wants to to elaborate on any of this lmk I'd be happy to :]

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Shadows and Paws

Chapter 4: Boundaries and Bonds

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

AU: Hybrid 141 X Hybrid Reader

Warnings: language, violence, mild blood/injuries, Readers nickname/callsign is Foxy

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, i almost forgot about this chapter but I hope I made it worth the read!

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist | Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The morning fog clung to the trees, shrouding the forest in a damp, eerie silence that set every nerve on edge. Each footstep felt like it echoed too loudly, despite the team’s silent movement. Foxy moved with confidence, yet a tension had settled into their posture, an awareness that they weren’t alone. The forest felt charged, as if the very trees were watching.

The team was alert, senses heightened. Gaz had already taken to the air, circling above to give them a view of the terrain, his keen falcon eyes searching for any sign of movement. Ghost moved in tandem with the others, silent and vigilant, while Soap’s usual energy was tempered, his ears constantly flicking to pick up the smallest sound. Price took up the rear, his mind running through different strategies, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were stepping into something dangerous.

"Something’s not right," Soap murmured, his voice barely audible. "I feel like we’re being watched."

"That's because we are," Foxy replied, scanning their surroundings, their eyes sharp. "It’s not just the rogues. This forest has its own… rules. Keep close, and don’t get separated. Trust me on this."

Price nodded, sensing the gravity in Foxy’s tone. He knew they wouldn’t give that kind of warning lightly. "Stay sharp, all of you. Eyes on each other."

Their surroundings grew darker as the trees thickened, the mist swirling around them like a ghostly veil. Even Ghost felt unnerved by the strange silence. The usual sounds of forest life—birds, rustling leaves, snapping twigs—were absent. It was as if the forest itself had been subdued.

As they descended into a small hollow, Foxy stopped suddenly, raising a hand. The team froze, their eyes darting around as they tensed, prepared for anything. The silence pressed in on them until the faintest of sounds broke it: the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. Foxy’s ears twitched, and they turned to the team with a serious look.

"We’re close. They’ll have scouts positioned around here," Foxy said, barely above a whisper. "They’ll spot us if we’re not careful."

"Can’t we just go in and give ’em a surprise?" Soap asked, his voice tinged with frustration, but a look from Price kept him silent.

"No. We’re outnumbered here," Foxy replied, a hint of exasperation in their tone. "This isn’t a game, Soap. One wrong move, and they’ll know exactly where we are. We have to play this smart."

Soap glanced away, chastened but still visibly restless. Ghost noticed and placed a hand on Soap’s shoulder, a rare gesture of solidarity. "Listen to Foxy. They know this terrain better than we do."

Soap took a breath, nodding, and gave Foxy a slight, apologetic smile. "Fine. Lead the way, Foxy."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Foxy’s mouth. "Glad you’re finally seeing reason," they teased, though the tension in their posture remained.

They led the team forward, moving with caution. Each step was calculated, each breath measured as they descended further into the underbrush. The forest was dark and thick, and the weight of the silence pressed down on them, more oppressive with each passing moment. Finally, they reached a small rise overlooking a clearing, and there, gathered near an abandoned structure, were the rogue hybrids.

The rogues weren’t just the chaotic, disorganized troublemakers Foxy had described before. Their formation was tight, disciplined, as if they’d been waiting for an ambush. Some had weapons, crude but effective, and their eyes glinted with a dangerous focus.

Foxy tensed, their eyes narrowing as they took in the rogues below. "They’ve gathered more than I thought," they whispered. "This is going to be… tricky."

Price glanced at Foxy. "What’s our best move here?"

Foxy hesitated, their sharp eyes calculating. "We need a distraction. Something that’ll draw their attention, just for a moment. Once we have that, we can move in and neutralize as many as possible. But it’ll be risky."

"I’ll go," Soap volunteered, the gleam of a plan in his eyes. "They won’t even see me coming."

Foxy looked at him, assessing, and then nodded. "Alright. Just don’t get yourself killed."

Soap grinned, giving them a quick wink before slipping down the incline. His movements were quick but controlled, every step soundless as he made his way toward the rogues.

Ghost leaned in, murmuring to Foxy, "We trust you to lead us here. But you need to know we’ve got your back too."

Foxy looked at him, their usual playful demeanor softened. "I appreciate that, Ghost."

In the clearing, Soap was nearing his target, a lone rogue standing a few paces away from the others, back turned. In a fluid, silent movement, he lunged, his hands closing around the rogue’s weapon and pulling them backward, rendering them unconscious before they could make a sound. The team waited, tension thick as Soap disappeared into the shadows again, inching closer to the heart of the group.

Suddenly, a sharp voice rang out from the clearing. "Well, if it isn’t the little fox," one of the rogues sneered, their voice thick with disdain. "Did you think you could just wander back in here and claim territory?"

Foxy’s jaw tightened, and they whispered to the team, "Stay low. This one’s trouble."

The rogue leader, a tall figure with dark, matted fur, looked directly at Foxy, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and disdain. He took a step forward, his voice carrying through the clearing. "Thought you could come in here and take control? You’re delusional."

Foxy’s eyes narrowed, their hand hovering near their own weapon. "I didn’t come to take control. I came to stop you from destroying everything."

The rogue leader laughed, a guttural sound that grated on the nerves. "You think you can stop me? You and these… pets of yours?" He glanced at the rest of the team with a sneer, clearly unimpressed.

Price’s hackles rose, and he took a step forward, his voice a low growl. "You might want to rethink that."

The rogue leader’s gaze flickered over Price, then over the rest of the team, and something changed in his expression. He took a step back, as if reassessing the threat before him. "So you brought a little pack with you," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the unease in his voice was unmistakable.

Foxy smirked, their confidence returning. "Did you really think I’d come here alone?"

The rogue leader scowled, his expression darkening. "This isn’t over, Foxy."

Foxy’s expression hardened, their voice steady and unyielding. "No. It’s just beginning."

At that moment, Soap gave the signal, and the team moved in, a coordinated, seamless assault that caught the rogues off guard. Ghost’s panther-like reflexes kicked in, his movements swift and deadly, while Gaz swooped down from above, his talons aimed with precision. Price kept close to Foxy, covering them as they fought their way through the chaos.

The battle was quick but brutal. Foxy moved with a ferocity that surprised even them, every strike aimed with a deadly accuracy. They fought side by side with the team, their movements in perfect harmony, as if they’d been fighting together for years. In that moment, any lingering doubts about trust dissolved. They were a team—a pack.

As the last of the rogues fled, Foxy turned to the team, their eyes shining with a fierce pride. They were bruised and bloodied, but they stood tall, unbroken.

Price stepped forward, nodding approvingly. "Not bad, Foxy. Not bad at all."

Foxy smirked, wiping a bit of blood from their cheek. "I told you I could handle myself."

Soap clapped a hand on their shoulder, grinning. "You did more than that, Foxy. You saved our hides back there."

Ghost inclined his head slightly, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like you’re one of us now."

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, Foxy felt a warmth in their chest—a sense of belonging. They looked at each of them, their expression softening. "Thank you," they said quietly. "For trusting me."

Price simply nodded. "We’re in this together, Foxy. Let’s get moving."

And as they left the clearing, the fog seemed to lift, the forest somehow less foreboding, as if it too recognized the bond they’d forged that day. They weren’t just a group of individuals anymore. They were a team. A pack.

—————

End of Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[flittingthroughthepines]

This is kinda my problem too. The affini are often infuriating because they’re simple - they almost entirely fill out this role of ‘condescending inevitable ’. Even more, the guidelines are so strict - for example, “the affini are always benevolent” doesn’t really make sense. Benevolent in whose opinion? The affini’s? Plenty of awful people think they’re doing the right thing. The terrans’? Not the feralists, obviously, and the florets to differing extents basically undergo total identity death so their ‘opinion’ is not really their own at all. So that only leaves the authors and the readers, and the insistence thst this entire setting be interpreted in this one way makes it very one dimensional.

Ultimately, affini don’t make good characters. They’re more like plot devices. The most difference you get between two affini is their methods of domestication but ultimately the end goal is the same; in addition to which they all act in a very similar way towards Terrans, there seems to be less diversity here than with actual pet owners. I just feel like HDG could be so good if the community (especially the prolific writers) weren’t so hell-bent on keeping it to this one-dimensional wish fulfilment that rarely actually examines the universe (and if it does, almost always comes to the same conclusion).

No shade to the writers or anything, I love a lot of hdg fic I just think it’s held back so much

A lot of HDG stuff I see boils down to “this would be a fun setup to getting domesticated” and isn’t really an exploration of the world or anything. Like… a human and an affini make a bet that the human won’t last 30 minutes on class Cs without confessing her love, the affini changes the rules to trick the human into getting domesticated, whatever. It’s fine, I liked it, when I was feeling subby earlier it gave me gut tingles.

Maybe I’m just a POS english major and shouldn’t be judging ficlets as harshly as I am but like… where’s the conflict? Where’s the story? What does this say about the world of HDG that affini can do something like that?

I think that’s why I’ve been enjoying Courtship by teagan_the_doll on ao3 so much. It has a predestined ending, we know how this is going to end like with most HDG stuff but in Courtship it is established as being firmly in the far future. It has so much more to say about the world and I think does a great job of doing it. Humans have conversations about their friend who’s a floret now. A human thinks about her own feelings towards being a floret in the future. There even seems to be a nod at the “traditional” HDG story with one of the characters getting domesticated in like a week after a funny encounter with an affini. I’m less than halfway through it and I absolutely love it.

Go read Courship by teagan_the_doll on ao3. NOW

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 9 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo had been mulling over a simple, yet increasingly puzzling question: How does one even contact you?

Despite weeks of fighting together, not once had he taken the initiative to reach out. The strange thing? You two hadn’t even exchanged numbers. You either planned your next raid before parting ways, or—more recently—you would simply show up because of your own schedule, or a butterfly of yours would come to him first.

The answer came to him, in a way that felt both obvious and absurd. Your butterflies.

Jinwoo wasn’t one to wait idly for answers, so he decided to test his theory. Concentrating on the familiar presence of your aura, he extended his hand, replicating that feeling in his mind. Moments later, one of your butterflies—the one that often remained hidden nearby, perhaps acting as your eyes—fluttered into view, landing lightly on his open palm.

Its wings faltered slightly, as if in acknowledgment.

This might actually work.

Closing his eyes, Jinwoo focused on the connection he had felt before, the distinct feeling of the red butterfly communicating with him.

Take me to her.

He didn’t know if it would respond, but soon enough, the butterfly took off, guiding him through the city.

---

He found you in the Hunter’s Market, haggling with a merchant. You were engaged in a rather intense back-and-forth, and judging by the merchant’s begrudging look, you were winning. In your hands, Jinwoo caught sight of what looked like a dormant magic beast egg, likely the reason for the negotiation.

"You're late."

You greeted him without even turning around, continuing to inspect the wares. Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. Not even a flicker of surprise from you. It was becoming clear that not much could catch you off guard.

By now, he was getting used to your way of doing things. "I need to talk to you."

There was an unspoken understanding between you that this wasn’t a conversation for public ears.

As you continued to browse the market, you hummed in acknowledgment. "I need to talk to you about some things too. Let’s continue this conversation in my domain. I’ll be done here in a few."

Jinwoo froze, staring at your back in confusion.

“Domain?"

"Dungeon," you corrected nonchalantly, still focused on the items displayed before you, your words casual as if you were discussing the weather.

Jinwoo’s brain paused for a moment.

"You own a dungeon?"

At that, you paused, a beat of silence passing before you turned toward him with a curious tilt of your head. "Did I never mention it before?"

"..."

"Ah."

For a split second, Jinwoo had the very distinct and rare urge to pinch your cheek. But instead, he just stared, half-amused, half-incredulous. You owned a dungeon, and you were mentioning it in the most off-handed way possible.

Of course, you would be the kind of person to forget to bring up owning something like that.

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle that was you fell into place, though Jinwoo knew he had only barely scratched the surface.

---

Jinwoo couldn't help but feel a rising sense of disbelief as he followed you into the alley. He had barely come to terms with the revelation that you owned a dungeon. Even now, he had to force himself to stop asking questions before they overwhelmed him.

He kept telling himself, Stay calm. Just get to a private place. Ask your questions there.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, a glowing portal materialized in front of them with a soft hum. Jinwoo froze mid-step, his eyes widening. The gate was far smaller than the typical ones he had encountered, just big enough to fit a full-grown adult comfortably—yet there was no mistaking it for anything but a dungeon gate. The shimmering silver-white wisps that surrounded it were unlike any other, almost blending with rainbow-like accents at the edges. It looked... strange, subdued compared to the usual ethereal blues and reds, but somehow still powerful.

It was just his luck.

Jinwoo had been trying to push the thousand and one questions flooding his mind to the back of his thoughts, but now, they came rushing back in full force. He glanced at you, but you didn’t even seem phased by the sudden appearance of the portal. Instead, you waved him forward, as if portals and dungeons appeared in alleyways every day.

He hesitated for a split second but, deciding it was better to follow your lead than be left behind in confusion, he stepped forward, his senses alert. The instant he crossed the threshold of the gate, everything seemed to shift. The world around him blurred for a second before stabilizing again, and he found himself standing in a vast open temple-like structure.

It was nothing like the harsh, ominous dungeons he’d been to before.

The structure was grand, with high ceilings and pillars that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards. The atmosphere had an air of serenity to it, something so starkly different from what he expected when entering a dungeon. But it didn’t end there. As he followed you forward, stepping through what looked like the entrance of a colossal, ancient temple, Jinwoo’s gaze was drawn outward.

The view beyond the floating temple was breathtaking.

The sight was nothing short of a dreamscape. Lush forests and vast gardens stretched far beyond what the eye could see. Gentle rivers meandered through valleys, their sparkling waters catching the sunlight. Towering, misty mountains loomed in the distance, and there were labyrinthine paths that seemed to lead into hidden areas, mysterious domed structures rising proudly in the distance. The land appeared to have been untouched by time, ancient and majestic in its quiet beauty.

It felt more like a paradise than any dungeon Jinwoo had ever seen.

This is a dungeon?

"I know, right?" you spoke, breaking his thoughts, your voice playful. "Trust me, the first time I got here, I thought I was dead and that this was paradise."

Jinwoo’s eyes flicked to you in surprise.

But you continued walking calmly ahead without a glance back, seeming completely at ease, at home.

This place, this dungeon, was a paradox. It was both beautiful and dangerous, serene and lethal. As you moved forward, he couldn’t help but make comparisons. It reminded him of the butterflies—so ethereal, so delicate, yet with a deadly bite.

Like you, Jinwoo realized.

As if sensing his thoughts, you shot him a brief glance over your shoulder. Your eyes caught his for a moment before you turned back ahead, leading him forward through the landscape. Jinwoo shook his head, his thoughts momentarily swirling. But something made him froze in his steps.

He watched you from behind, the soft fluttering of butterflies surrounding you, some of them trailing closely behind, others flitting about aimlessly.

One butterfly, the familiar red one, fluttered close to you and landed delicately on your finger. You brought it up to your lips and kissed it gently, a soft, quiet action that felt impossibly tender.

Divine.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder again, and for some reason, his pulse quickened. But, before he could dwell too much on his absurd thoughts, he shook his head and hurried to catch up with you.

---

The two of you continued walking until you reached a beautiful outdoor gazebo. The serene atmosphere of the garden, complete with a quiet pond surrounded by vibrant flowers, made it feel just like the rest of this space shouldn’t had been, a paradise. The soft trickle of water from nearby waterfalls added to the peaceful ambiance. On the table in front of the gazebo, there was tea and snacks laid out, ready for the conversation he knew he had to have with you.

Jinwoo sat down across from you, his mind buzzing with questions. He had so many things he wanted to know, and yet, he wasn’t sure where to start.

You, on the other hand, took a sip of your tea, completely at ease, before setting it down. You studied him quietly for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to speak first.

It took a moment, but Jinwoo finally asked, "This place... this dungeon. How did you come to own it?"

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, looking out over the garden for a moment as if gathering your thoughts. "Ah, yes. The story of how I got this place. It’s not simple, but I suppose I owe you an explanation."

You paused, seeming to gather yourself. "The truth is, this dungeon was here long before I ever arrived. In fact, I... was lost here when I was a child."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. You—lost?

You continued, seemingly unfazed by his reaction. "I was barely a teen when I stumbled into it. The Trial System... it didn’t exactly help me, if you know what I mean. But it gave me a challenge I couldn’t ignore. To leave this place, I had to defeat the dungeon’s guardians."

Guardians? Bosses? Multiple?

You caught his gaze, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if that was a question. Jinwoo didn’t say anything, but his mind whirled. It was clear that this place wasn’t like any other dungeon he’d ever encountered.

"So, how did you own it?" he asked, his voice quieter now, as if trying to make sense of this all.

“The Trial System gave it to me as a... reward, I guess,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It’s mine now, in every sense of the word. And because I own it, I can summon it whenever I need to. I can open a portal to it and leave at will." You looked at him, eyes gleaming. "That’s how I was able to summon that gate earlier. It’s a... special gift."

Jinwoo absorbed the information, slowly piecing it together. "So, you can teleport anywhere?”

“Not exactly, I need to have a clear picture of where I want to go." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Jinwoo exhaled sharply, his thoughts swirling. As much as he wanted to ask more—wanted to demand answers—he felt something within him pull him back. This was your secret to reveal, in your own time.

So, instead of questioning you further, he allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. You seemed to know what he was thinking. With a soft smile, you raised your cup again and said, "I don’t mind sharing more, Jinwoo. But just know, some things are better left unsaid.”

Jinwoo nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He would get the answers he was looking for, one way or another. But for now, he would have to trust you—because there was no other choice.

---

Jinwoo stared at you, completely flabbergasted, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You have to what now?"

You sighed, sinking a bit deeper into the seat of the gazebo, as if this whole conversation were some kind of exhausting memory you'd rather not dig up. "I have to level up my skills manually. Yes. Manually."

You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it. "Wait, so… no shortcuts? No automatic leveling?"

"None." You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back and stretching your arms out. "The system basically made me work my way up through blood, sweat, and endless labor. You’d think the trial version would offer at least some quality-of-life updates, but nope. If I wanted to get better at farming, I had to actually go out and till the fields. If I wanted to improve cooking… yeah, let’s just say that was a nightmare."

Jinwoo blinked, half in shock, half in amusement. "Wait… so, all those skills that the system grants—crafting, mining, cooking—you had to actually do all those things?"

"Yep," you replied, with a roll of your eyes. "No instant boosts for me. While you get to succeed or fail with crafting based on your intelligence stat, I actually had to sit down and grind every skill point myself. And, of course, I started off just as badly as you’d expect.”

He tried to picture it and stifled a laugh. "So you’re telling me… you burned a boiled egg?”

"Listen," you huffed, giving him an exasperated look. "It was the lowest-level cooking skill, okay? Apparently, it was so low that I couldn't even be trusted to make something as simple as a boiled egg. Somehow, it just… burned." You buried your face in your hands, grumbling, "It’s still a mystery to me how boiling water and an egg turned into charcoal. But that was my life. Trial version for the win."

Jinwoo couldn’t hold back his laugh anymore, and the sound of it filled the air, rich and full of genuine amusement. "You? Burning an egg? You?"

"Hey, don’t laugh! It’s not funny," you protested and pouted at him. "Let’s just say I made my fair share of… tragic cooking attempts before my skill level got high enough to handle basic meals without a disaster."

You watched him try to stifle his laughter, but your own lips twitched, betraying a smile as well. "And it wasn’t just cooking," you added. "Farming was another story. I didn’t even know the basics—soil preparation, crop rotation, pest control. Do you have any idea how long it took me to produce anything that wasn't... wilted? Even mining was brutal. There I was, chipping away with an old pickaxe for hours just to get a sliver of ore."

He shook his head, still grinning. "Looks like you went through your own personal training arc as well."

"Of course I do." you agreed with a snort. "If the system hadn’t taken feedback from me eventually, you’d be the one cursing it out every time you tried to do something simple. But yeah, thankfully, the system decided to cut you a break. Guess my suffering counted for something, after all."

You straightened in your seat and took a sip of your tea, a satisfied smirk crossing your face. "But at least, once I got a skill to a decent level, it stayed there. Permanent. I don’t have to touch a frying pan for years, and the skill level’s still as good as ever. And the skills I invested in heavily—those have even broader effects."

Jinwoo’s brow furrowed, curious now. "Broader effects?"

You nodded, glancing up thoughtfully as if reliving memories. "Take my language skill, for example. I leveled it up while studying Monster Tongue, which was excruciating at first. But once I maxed out that skill, learning other languages was a breeze. The system gave me a boost, kind of like an automatic enhancement for anything similar. If I tried learning another language now, it’d be easy compared to when I first started out.”

He gave a low whistle. "So basically, the more you leveled up, the easier it became to learn things related to that skill?"

"Exactly." You placed your cup back on the saucer with a gentle clink. "Though there’s a catch. Back then, whenever the system went through an update, some skills would get expanded. The cap would get set higher, and I’d have to grind all over again to max them out."

You gave him a look of exasperation. "Imagine maxing out a skill only for the system to update and say, 'Hey, you can go up to Level 50 now instead of 30!' That happened so many times, I lost count."

Jinwoo leaned back, his expression growing more serious. "So… what happens now? Are you stuck with your current stats forever?"

You took a slow breath, letting the question sink in before nodding. "That’s exactly it. Since the trial stage ended when you became the player, there haven’t been any more updates. My levels, skills, and stats… they’re frozen as they are. I can’t adjust my stats, I can’t level anything up, that’s why I don’t get EXP anymore. It’s like I’m in a kind of… stasis."

He was silent for a moment, digesting the weight of that statement. It was strange to think that someone with as much knowledge and power as you would be… limited.

"I still have everything I gained during the trial, of course," you continued, your tone turning thoughtful as you gazed out over the garden. "But it’s a strange feeling, knowing that I’ll never improve again. All my stats, skills, and levels are frozen in time. There’s no ‘growth’ anymore—not like what you have."

Jinwoo frowned. "And that doesn’t bother you?"

You shrugged, meeting his eyes again. "It did, at first. But after a while, I came to terms with it. I put in the effort back then, and I reaped the rewards. Sure, I miss the feeling of progress, of leveling up. But the fact that you’re the player now means the system’s finished with me." You managed a smile, though it was a bit bittersweet.

He looked at you, quiet for a moment, perhaps feeling a hint of the sacrifice you'd made just for the sake of his journey.

"So now," you said, breaking the silence with a brighter tone, "I’m basically a living relic of the trial version, here to help you navigate the system’s quirks."

Jinwoo smirked at that. "The legendary burnt-egg chef, my official guide through the system."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That title better not stick." Then, with a playful nudge of your cup in his direction, you raised an eyebrow. "And hey, if I’m going to help you, maybe you could use a few pointers. Starting with, oh, I don’t know… naming tips? You’re downright horrible at that."

The two of you shared a look, both of you smiling. And despite the strange circumstances, Jinwoo knew he was glad to have you by his side, guiding him, burnt eggs and all.

[Oh, he’ll not let that go, will he?]

“And whose fault do you think that is?”

---

"The meals with healing properties, the intricate mana stones, and how your butterflies can affect my daggers' stats... So that's why..." Jinwoo trailed off, connecting the dots.

You nodded, munching on a biscuit. "Mhm, pretty much. Since I have to actually *learn* the fundamentals of each skill, I can manipulate and craft related items more easily. It makes altering, replicating, or even making things from scratch a lot more natural."

You paused, reflecting for a moment before continuing, "It’s a blessing that the last system update allowed me to max out certain skills to the point where I can do these things in reality without relying solely on the system."

You brushed the crumbs from your fingers and leaned back, satisfied. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to tell you. Now, what is it you wanted to say?"

Jinwoo took a deep breath, locking eyes with you. "Join me for a week."

"...Eh?"

Without a word, he held up an item—a key.

<Castle Door Key>.

It was the entry to the Demon Castle, the S-rank dungeon created by the system itself.

"There’s no rule saying I can’t bring someone with me. You don’t gain any more experience, so there’s nothing for me to lose. But you might get materials you won’t find anywhere else, not even in the hunter's market—"

"I refuse."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. "What?"

You looked away, your mind racing. The offer was tempting—you had several experiments in mind, but there was too much at stake. There were bigger forces at play—the plot, the system's interference, and Jinwoo's crucial development. You couldn’t afford to be too involved in this one. You needed a good excuse, something he would believe.

"Jinwoo," you began, "you’re aware of my powers' limitations, right?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"Listen." Your voice, suddenly sharp, cut through the air, and Jinwoo froze.

For the first time, Jinwoo felt uneasy, confused, like he had said something wrong. He didn’t like the shift in your demeanor, especially when it was directed at him.

"'Demon' Castle," you continued, your tone softer but firm, "just by the name alone, we can assume the majority, if not half, of enemies there will be undead."

"..."

"My powers thrive off life. In an essentially ‘dead’ land, I’ll be at a severe disadvantage—"

"I'll protect you."

"And that’s exactly the problem. I’ll be a deadweight."

"Just focus on supporting me and my shadows."

You stared at him, the determination in his eyes unwavering. He was serious—dead serious.

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. "You’re really persistent."

"I know," he replied, not once backing down.

You exhaled, resigned. Deep down, you knew that continuing to refuse him would lead to something far more troublesome. There was no winning against Jinwoo when he was this determined. "Alright," you finally said, "I’ll join you. But if things go south, you have to trust me to pull back. Understood?"

As if you could leave him, the nagging thought echoed in your mind.

Jinwoo’s gaze softened slightly, and a small, rare smile crept onto his lips. "Understood."

You only hoped that the system wouldn’t interfere or cause any unexpected complications this time. But one question remained: why was Jinwoo so insistent on bringing you along, despite the risks?

Unbeknownst to you, Jinwoo was asking himself the same thing. But it was something he wasn’t quite ready to admit—not to you, and perhaps not even to himself.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [023/10/2024] -

The middle part of this, the convo between Jinwoo and (Name) feels a bit weird, so I apologize for the OOC-ness. I'll come back to this later.

[moonchild033]

Hiii sis how are u i was reading post 5th house the jupiter in 5th house tend to be relegious are there placments to show non relegious person

Hii my lil sis, I'm fine, how u doing?! 💖

Oh yes I know a few but the expression of the non- belief and it's extent can be different, I can explain some placements a little but it goes beyond that, based on other aspects too.🫡

Placements that can indicate a non-religious personality:

Rahu in 9H- They can question religious practices or develop a liking towards other religious philosophies than the one they were born into. 🧡🧡

Debilitated 9H lord or 9H lord in conjunction with a debilitated planet - 9H shows our belief systems and how deep we are into it, this placement can cause an aversion or at least a blunt boredom towards religious practices, they simply may not be interested. 💚💚

9H lord in Rahu's nakshatra - They might be inquisitive but they are mostly not atheists, they just want to know the stories and think for themselves whether they could relate to it or not.🩷🩷

Saturn aspecting 9H or in conjunction with 9H lord- They believe in God and might pray but rarely do they exhibit themselves as highly religious. They could think of God as a power in this universe, they trust in God in a different philosophical way which is a deeper connection that others might not understand but they're not conventionally religious as in following the practices. This is somewhat hard for me to explain, they focus on the spiritual and philosophical part of it but not the religious part.♥️♥️

9H lord in Saturn's nakshatra - They are either too religious or a straight out atheist, there's nothing in between, it might be that they got very much hurt in life that they chose to believe in themselves but they could become religious later in life.🧡🧡

Rahu in 5H- This is not a most common placement in this topic but some ppl having this might not be as religious as their surroundings, they could be less focusing or disinterested in religious matters while their surroundings can be more into it.

Debilitated jupiter- They might not like the teachings of their religion, since they couldn't relate to it, they could've just avoided that aspect altogether.🩷🩷

Jupiter Rahu conjunction - This is Guru Chandal Yoga. Even though this placement can give spiritual understanding and good exploring tendency, they usually oppose and argue the traditional religious practices, they wouldn't like some of the conventional sayings and they would try to prove their point why they think it's wrong or pointless, and can be rebellious in talking against religious practices.♥️♥️

9H lord in 6/8/12H- They can be more about the spiritual part or won't believe much in anything religious depending on the strength of 6/8/12H lords, if they're strong, then they might be good and interested in the spiritual areas rather than common practices but if those lords are weak along with 9H lord in these houses, they probably might be atheist.🧡🧡

Debilitated Sun or Atmkaraka- As sun is the natural significator of the soul and AK being your own soul significator, weakness of these can lead to not trusting in anything that is not solid, like they find it hard to link an unseen concept with themselves.These can apply to 8/12H suns to an extent.🩷🩷

If someone has many of these placements, they might be non-religious but keep in mind that other aspects play a role in deciding it too ✨

These are the placements I could think of as of now, tqsm for asking this Q's lil sis, I loved answering it.🤗🫶🩵

Guys, pls send thought provoking 'asks' lyk this, I understand the curiosity and the need for feeling clarity by asking personal placement Q's but sometimes I'm overwhelmed by it, I want to post answered asks that can benefit everyone, lyk everyone has something to learn from it.🥺🥺♥️

Let's Learn and Grow Together! 🫂💋

With Love-Yashi ❤️‍🔥

Masterlist 💖

[bootheghoul]

In your Pokémon au, do the boys have to deal with instincts or anything like that? Like does the Pokémon they (represent?) have any effects on their habits or behaviors?

Yes! So, for this AU, everyone in the universe has certain habits and behaviors pertaining to the Pokémon they are. Ex: Bird Pokemon molt and preen and have the urge to migrate at a certain time of the year Ex: Scolipedes and Centiskorches have an innate rivalry with each other It’s not like their instincts completely take over their minds, but subtle things in how they act. The boys’ personalities are exactly the same just with some additional quirks. I'm basing how they act from dex entries/ in-game animations/ and other media! This is long so strap in!

Ingo

In Ingo’s case, Chandelure tends to spin A LOT. It’s a habit they all share whether to battle or emote. It’s just what they do.

Chandelure don’t get dizzy so they can do so without repercussion.

This behavior started when he evolved into a Lampent.

Ingo either spins on his toes when he’s happy or when he attacks. But his twirls are sharper and not as smooth and elegant as other Chandelure

Think of a pirouette but very stilted.

He spins on his heel pretty fast, too, and smacks Emmet every now and then.

He tends to point his toes like a ballerina while he floats.

He often sways on his feet or in the air like a pendulum if he’s idle or deep in thought.

This is kind of a bad thing because he might accidentally hypnotize a passerby by the combination of the motion and his flames.

Luckily, riding the train hides his swaying as it’s already a bumpy ride.

Although sometimes he has to snap the person out of his trance. He will profusely apologize afterward.

His flames aren't hot unless he wants them to but they feel warm

Another thing that creeps Emmet out a bit is that Ingo can see and talk to spirits. Not ghost Pokémon. Actual spirits.

Certain Pokémon have this ability and fewer are able to help these spirits. Ingo is one of them

Chandelure, in particular, act as a lure. haha

Emmet can kind of feel if a presence is there but he needs Ingo’s clarification. (it's that twin connection they share)

Unlike popular belief, Chandelure do not destroy a spirit with their flames. It may look like it but it's to help a lost soul move on.

While he is a conductor for trains, he doubles as a guide for lost spirits because he believes it's his duty. (Idea from this wonderful fic!)

Some aren't ready and he’ll respect their decision and leave them alone

What does bother him is that he can sense when someone is about to die and hates hospitals for this exact reason

It's awful because he feels it multiple times a day from passengers

He doesn't want to burden Emmet so he stays quiet

Emmet knows when Ingo's overwhelmed and will try to distract him the best he can

He's terrified to one day sense Emmet's death

Emmet

Emmet, as an Eelektross, has a bad chewing problem! I kind of showed it in this post already but he gnaws at any pen or pencil any chance he can get. If not he’ll chew on his nails.

He lets out small bursts of electricity from his teeth as he chews in thought

He has pockets full of hard candy to curb the issue though

Low on sugar? He can help!

It's also used to bribe the Joltik Quadruplets. (I'll show them later!)

He does bite Ingo if they get into an argument. It's always Ingo's tails too. But they rarely seriously fight anyway

Emmet has bit through their cutlery before...multiple times... but it's on him to replace it. (Ingo has his own set of utensils now)

He'll either thump or swish his tail when he's agitated.

He has the tendency to wrap around anything if he stays in the same place for a while. (A pole/his office chair/ furniture)

He mostly coils around people verrry tightly when he gives a hug, which is a habit he started as an Eelektrik.

You have to tell him to let go because he unconsciously constricts the air out of you.

He's stronger than he looks so please tell him because he doesn’t realize and never wants to hurt anyone.

Ingo is mostly the recipient of this but Elesa is a close second. The depot agents are third.

With any body of water, he starts to think how the water feels and has the urge to jump in. It doesn't matter if it's freshwater or seawater. He wants to dive in.

In the water, Emmet is a completely different guy. It's like a switch flips in his head. It’s freeing for him to be underwater as he can move how he wants to!

Beach trips to Undella Town or Humilau City are a frequent thing, and he will be cranky if he misses a day!

His favorite place is the Marine Tube because Ingo can be there too!

Ingo will walk through the tunnel as he watches Emmet have fun

Since Eelektross in canon are ambush hunters, Emmet subconsciously acts like one

Is the type to silently enter a room and sneak up on you

He likes to wait deep below the surface watching above him

It's like his version of cloud-watching

If there’s a shadow at the top, he has to find out what it is!

He has a habit of swimming at an alarming rate and abruptly popping out of the water to greet whoever is there. He doesn't mean to! He's just curious.

He only gives them a really bad scare and a heart attack

Ingo will join him on a floaty and act as a beacon because Emmet sometimes swims out too far.

Other marine pokemon point him in the right direction if he does get lost.

Other miscellaneous things:

It’s a common form of greeting between Electric types to shock each other. It’s their version of a handshake/hello.

Ingo’s built up a resistance to electricity thanks to Emmet, but sometimes it’s really shocking!

Emmet sometimes bumps into things because of his body.

They both can see in the dark, but Emmet can see perfectly underwater.

They both have fallen asleep levitating before.

Ingo doesn't have a house key because he can just go through the front door or wall or anything really.

Because of this, he has a habit of not opening doors

Ingo is actually wary of water because he's afraid his fire will go out but he toughs it out for Emmet because he loves him so much.

He can swim but it's still the fear of going too deep.

There is battling in this AU! Ingo and Emmet still run the Battle Subway with their team, The Top Depot Agents! (I'll show them sometime!)

Also, if you have any ideas of your own, you can make your own post and tag me! What I say isn’t set in stone cause this is an idea for everyone to enjoy. I’d love to hear any new ideas!