#i wrote this while sleep deprived so it might be rambling

[strwberri-milk]

Hi hi! May I request Childe, Heizou, and Wriothesley (add anyone else if you want) with an Author!Reader who usually writes crime/detective, mystery, and horror? Reader is sometimes stressed and sleep deprived because of this and their writing space is a mess with papers everywhere too.

It's okay if you won't do this one! ^^

Childe absolutely finds it fascinating. He doesn't have too much time in between work to really dedicate to reading the books you've written but he does his best. He's got copies of your books lining the shelves in his office and when people ask he tells them they're yours and that he strongly recommends the books himself.

Sometimes, you shyly approach him to ask for some details that only he could provide to help make your books just a bit more realistic. It makes him very happy to hear that you need his help and when you show him the parts that he helped with he can't help but specifically mark those pages off to read over and over again, fascinated by how you turn his loose explanations into insightful prose.

He doesn't mind the mess you leave behind when working - in fact he likes to rifle through it - but he does hate how stressed and tired you are. No matter how often he finds you passed out in your work he'll always take care to put you in bed and clean you off so you can rest. He won't leave you alone which means you're forced to rest, falling asleep against his chest.

Heizou didn't realise he was a casual fan of your books until after you told him that you wrote some of the books he's got on his shelf. You were just making a simple observation, not wanting to keep your occupation a secret nor make a big deal out of it but he took the opportunity to pull down the most memorable one and ask you some questions he remembers having while reading the book.

He likes to pop in whenever you're really struggling on a scene, wanting to offer up his expertise whenever you find yourself in a particular difficult situation in your writing. You can hand off sections of your manuscript to him and he's more than happy to read through the pages. Most often he points out any discrepancies he can personally find and helps reconcile them when he can.

The two of you often end up accidentally spending the night working on your projects, trying to keep each other awake or trying to convince the other person to go to sleep. You both try to work in organised chaos so he's familiar with how to stack your papers before you fall asleep to prevent ruining your workflow. You try to complain that you've got too much to do but he won't take any of it, shoving you back into bed playfully to make sure you manage to sleep.

Wriothesley likes to come down from the day with his tea, snacks, and a nice book in hand. It just so happens he was recommended for your book and he recognised the pen name you said that you use when writing. Without telling you, he quickly finishes the book and starts on another, finding himself thoroughly excited to work his way through your work.

You like watching the people in the prison, finding inspiration from the passing stores people tell you or just things you happen to over hear. You've got a lot of little notes sitting around of things you might want to expand on but for now, you're never lacking inspiration.

He also loves watching you work. It's always fun for him to try and make sense of all the paper you leave around. It's like some sort of puzzle he work on as you ramble to him about some ideas you've got for the continuing of your story - something he also listens to very intently.

Whenever it looks like you're about to pass out due to exhaustion or stress he simply removes you from your work site. He'll make sure you've got something to eat or drink before tucking you into bed no matter what you tell him. He'll remind you you can't do your best work if your mind is distracted and your body is starving and considering how assertive he can be there's not much you can do, but you also don't mind.

[melodymonger]

i was thinking about the parallels between Noelle Holiday and Lucas from Mother 3, and kinda just kept extrapolating from there, and things kept lining up, and now i dont know what to do with this information. this might make no sense, or it might make tons of sense. im sleep deprived and off my antipsychotics so i really cant tell. anyways, check under the cut if you wanna hear my deranged ramblings + are ok with MAJOR Mother 3 spoilers

ok, so, Noelle and Lucas both start off fairly weak in terms of combat abilities, and are easily shaken by things, with Lucas repeatedly being called a crybaby, and Noelle getting scared of many things. they also both have a sibling who, for one reason or another, is not present. Claus ends up missing, and becomes the Masked Man. Dess, we don't know exactly what happened, but it is VERY commonly theorized that she is missing too.

in their siblings' absence, they both end up going on an adventure. It is repeatedly mentioned how much stronger Lucas has gotten, and in the normal route of Deltarune, Noelle ends up gaining the strenght of character to stand up to Queen. in the weird route.... well, she gets stronger in a different way.

this part goes a little away from Noelle, and more into general story parallels, but the protagonists of both games have a series of places they need to go to and do something only they can do in order to prevent a Bad Event from happening. Lucas is the only one who can pull the Seven Needles, and must do so to prevent the Dark Dragon from destroying the Nowhere Islands when it awakes. Kris needs to seal the Dark Fountains to prevent The Roaring, and they are the only one who can do this. also, if Deltarune keeps up its current pattern, there will likely be a total of 7 Dark Fountains as well.

of course, both of these protagonists meet plenty of enemies in their journeys because, well, the story needs that. the most notable for each of them is Deltarune's Knight, and Mother 3's Masked Man. both of these characters are in direct competition with what the main characters are attempting to do at their 7 Plot Significant Locations, with the Knight opening up new Fountains, and the Masked Man pulling the Needles instead of Lucas.

now, i dont necessarily expect Deltarune to be a complete retelling of Mother 3, it is very much its own thing, and i like that, and i like the original ideas Toby has. that being said, i also very much like finding a pattern and extrapolating from it for fun. if we do that here.... well. the Masked Man is Claus, right? and ive already talked about how Claus parallels Dess. what if Dess is the Knight? i mean, we have no idea what shes been doing while shes been absent, for all we know, shes been running around making Dark Fountains. i mean, Noelle explicitly said Dess talked about taking her somewhere like the Cyber City, and she wouldnt have gone there without the Knight.

Do i expect this to come true? no, absolutely not, Toby's games have always been able to surprise me with their twists and i fully expect them to keep doing that. honestly, i just watched a silly video of a Deltarune song in Mother 3s soundfont and thought of all this, and thought it was funny how much mileage i could get out of it, and wrote it down so i wouldnt forget, and figured i might as well post it to. but hey, in the one in a million chance i am write, i wanna be able to say i made a silly post about all this on tumblr.com/dashboard years ago.

[cookiesandbiscuits]

Hello.If it's don't bothering you may i ask headcanons Kalego x Fem! Human! Assassin! Reader as Yor Forger from Spy x family.If you don't watch this one, then how you imagine yourselves relationship Kalego and Fem! Human! Assasin! Reader. I think it's kinda cute he is guardian dog and she is the soldier-protector of her country

Hi!!! Thank you for asking! It's not a bother at all, really ^^

I enjoy writing stuff for other people to enjoy, hence why I created this blog aside for my hyperfixation ramblings.

I did watch the show until the 9th episode and read the manga until the 58th chapter (I got busy with school so I can't finish it yet :'D). Honestly, I understand how Yor got her fame in the fandom (I love seeing a badass female character that's also pretty soft on the inside)

It's been a while since I wrote a headcanon tho... Anyways, hope you enjoy this!

Happy reading!

Soft but Deadly: A Dating Headcanon

Pairing: Kalego Naberius x Fem! Human Assassin! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning: might be a bit OOC and out of order (I blanked out in some parts, oops 😬 damn my sleep-deprived brain); Narnia Naberius is such a jerk here (I'm still salty about what he did to Iruma in that chapter) not proofread

MASTERLIST

Dating Kalego is a very interesting experience. Expect to have numerous discussions about your shared interests.

He is a very romantic person on the inside (lemme have my romantic Kalego okay?)

He'll be taking you out on a date whenever your schedules align. And he'll be gentlemanly about it. Dinner dates, a trip to an opera house, and the like are the typical setting for the dates that he planned. However, that doesn't mean that it's boring. He makes sure that you'll enjoy the dates to the fullest because you only deserve the best of the best.

In short, dates planned by him can get a bit fancy for your taste. That's why you make sure that he also get to experience new things in life.

Dates planned by you are simple yet enjoyable enough for the two of you. Picnics, travel dates, movie dates, and the like are the things on your list.

He enjoys the massages you offer to him when you know he's tired from work. You just know what points to focus on to make him loosen up (due to the nature of your job)

He does not bat an eye on your job as an assassin. But that doesn't stop him from worrying about your safety. He'll be the one who'll take care of the wounds you got from your latest mission. He'll be scolding you while dressing them though.

When you told him about the nature of your job, he first thought that you were pulling his leg. You were so gentle with others, how can you have such a profession as your job?

But after seeing the serious look on your face, he knew you weren't joking around. Well, it's okay. He can live with the fact that the love of his life lives a double life as an assassin.

Before the start of your relationship, Kalego used to be so cold, bordering on mean to you. But that didn't stop you from admiring the demon, even though it was evident that he did not return the same sentiments.

So you were surprised when he asked you out on a date one day. He had liked you for a while now, but he doesn't know how to tell you.

The only reason that he asked you out was that Balam was pressuring talked him out to confess to you.

And apparently, he got fed up with his friend's nagging that it gave him the courage to ask you out.

He can be subtly protective of you in public. But this becomes more prominent after you reveal to him that you were human.

He knows that you are capable of defending yourself from physical harm, but you can't use magic, so you won't be able to save yourself when your opponent used their magic on you.

He wonders how you got into the Netherworld in the first place, but he doesn't ask you about it. He knows that you'll tell him once you're ready.

But like all relationships, the two of you also experienced a lot of setbacks, mainly from his brother Narnia.

I saw it, you saw it. We all know how Narnia feels about humans from that chapter. So naturally, he's against his brother's relationship with you.

For some reason, Kalego's older brother discovered your secret and was very obvious about his prejudices. But your boyfriend defended you from him, claiming that it doesn't matter to him whatever your race is.

Kalego doesn't play around when he decided to enter into a relationship with you. He does not date around just for fun, no. He is serious about you and considers asking for your hand in marriage in the future.

Once he made it clear to his brother, Narnia decided to back off. He still does not like you but he also doesn't want his brother to resent him.

While Kalego was thankful when his brother got the message, you also knew his plans for the future now. Well, it doesn't matter. It's not like you'd refuse him when he finally asks the question, no?

[matcha-milkies]

MARLIN

Summary: Marlin travels across the ocean to save his son and comes home emptyhanded. (In which Nemo really does die at the hands of Darla.)

Content Warnings: Major Character Death

Tags: Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Self-Pity, Bad Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,069

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: I wrote this thousands of feet in the air after rewatching Finding Nemo on an airplane, and then I let it rot on my drive for months SO UH. Enjoy my sleep-deprived angst?

I’m telling you, if I had posted this right after I got off the plane I would’ve been rambling in these notes about how Finding Nemo is one of the greatest animated films ever created (which I mean, it very well might be) but that’s just to give you an idea of the overzealous headspace I was in when I wrote this

The journey home feels short. He spends most of it in a daze. He’s surprised nothing got him in its jaws, and he wonders whether he would’ve tried to get away if anything had made the attempt. All that wild, reckless determination that had driven him across the ocean in a crazed frenzy, it’s gone, dispersed like dust in the current. He coasts along the seafloor looking and feeling hollow.

A few fish recognize him from the rumors, and when they try to talk to him, he just stares dead-eyed and desperately wishes they would try to eat him instead. He thinks maybe the shame will lessen with each retelling of the story, but in actuality it only intensifies.

“I didn’t make it in time.”

“I was too late.”

“Nemo is gone.”

It hurts to say. With every utterance, cold reality solidifies around him.

What makes it worse is those little landmarks, the trench, the minefield, milestones he passed with someone he’s trying to forget. It’s like grieving twice over. At times it feels like more pain than his little heart can reasonably be expected to bear.

And whatever pain he thought he felt on the way back, it’s not enough to prepare him for the wave of grief that hits him when he comes home to an empty anemone for the first time. He circles the interior aimlessly for a little while, like his brain is broken and doesn’t know how to locomote anymore. After a while, he finally settles down and lies on his side. He’s staring wide-eyed at the open blue above him and he looks dead.

At some point he falls asleep, and when he wakes up, he can’t tell himself it was just a dream, because the empty space beside him is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t get up from his spot on the floor. He doesn’t leave the anemone. He doesn’t eat. It’s a while before anyone comes to check on him.

“Hey, uh, Marlin?” It’s the seahorse dad. The irony of not being able to remember his name when he finally remembered Marlin’s. “You… You in there?”

Marlin closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep. When he’s asleep he doesn’t have to think.

“A couple parents saw you come home the other day…”

After a few beats of silence, he finally pokes his head out between the anemone’s arms. “I appreciate the concern. Please go away.”

“But…”

Marlin’s already retreated back into his home.

He didn’t honestly expect anyone to care whether he wasted away, but to his chagrin they keep sending fish to check on him and make sure he eats. Maybe he wasn’t enough of a recluse before. They don’t seem to have gotten the memo that he wants to be left alone.

He has a lot of dreams about her, which is ridiculous and pathetic because she’s definitely already forgotten about him, and he was the one who left her when she practically begged him not to. How could he do that to her? A failure as a husband, a failure as a father, and now a failure as a friend too. Why didn’t he at least stay with her?

Because it would’ve been too painful. Because every time he looked at her, he’d hear, “The boat went that way.”

Well, it’s echoing in his head anyway. So a lot of good that did him.

He replays scenarios in his head where he does everything right and stops his son from going out there in the first place. Scenarios where he gets through the obstacles quicker, does things faster, gets to Sydney sooner. It’s a momentary respite and it’s also agonizing, self-inflicted torture.

Some fish named Gill finds him, what must be an eternity later. Claims to have known Nemo from the dentist’s aquarium. Marlin shoos him and the rest of his gang away, doesn’t want to look at them or talk to them. Doesn’t want to… to know what his son went through in those final days…

Except that he does.

Slowly but surely, he peers out from the anemone. “Wait.”

Gill glances back at Marlin.

“You were the last ones to talk to him,” Marlin croaks. “And the last thing that he said to me— I— I guess what I’m asking is…” He realizes he hasn’t cried since it happened, not really, overtaken first by panic, then shock. Here and now, to his absolute horror, he can’t stop his voice from breaking into tearful quavering. “What I’m asking is… Was-Was he angry at me?”

“Angry at you?” Gill seems genuinely taken aback. “He was desperate to get back to you. It was all he could talk about.”

“The last thing he said to me was that he hated me,” Marlin explains. (If he doesn’t count the terrified screaming for help, which he’s trying really, really hard not to think about right now.) “So you don’t have to sugarcoat it for my sake. If he really hated me, I-I want to know.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” the starfish lifts herself long enough to pipe up. “Anyone could see that kid loved you so much.”

“When he heard you were coming for him, oh, you should’ve seen the look on his face.”

“He was such a little trouper.”

“You gave him the courage to go through with our first escape plan,” Gill says, and then, growing more solemn, “It… It almost worked too.”

Resentful thoughts creep in. Why couldn’t you have escaped sooner. Why couldn’t you have taken my son with you? But that’s not fair. It’s not their fault Nemo is gone. It’s his. It’s only his fault.

Instead of voicing any of that, what Marlin does is break down into quiet, ugly. shuddering sobs. Before he even really realizes he’s weeping, he’s flanked on both sides by fish, the blue and white lady and the purple-yellow guy, consoling him with gentle fins. “Hey there, it’s okay,” says Deb.

“It’s not okay. I was supposed to protect him, and instead I yelled at him and he swam off, and there was the boat and the people, I—” He draws in an enormous breath, having forgotten to inhale. “Why didn’t I go after him right away?”

“You don’t know that it would’ve made a difference.”

Marlin breaks from his sobbing long enough to look at Gill.

“What’s done is done. All you can do now is… move forward.”

A/N: Why did I write this.

(Yeah I called this fish a husband and not a mate. He called his anemone a “house” in the movie’s opening scene, I’m taking a few liberties of my own.)

[earthstellar]

hey! i just wanted to let you know that i really enjoyed your post about the mutiny on the L.L and your deeper dive into the social dynamics and inner thought processes involved there. especially when it comes to megatron being put into the lost light and how it was done with absolutely zero regard to not only the crew, but to rodimus specifically. OP put megatron on a ship in a position of power over rodimus (noting the whole "co-captain" thing and it going back and forth on whether its an actual title) and the entire crew, and it's honestly somewhat of a miracle that the mutiny even had time to develop as it did. like you said, there were a hundred other ways it could of played out. your post was a very interesting read and i really enjoyed it, kudos!

i do have to say though that the mech in the post isn't hound- it's hoist. (i get them mixed up so often as well it's not even funny, both green bots with 5 letter names starting with 'ho-', smh.) but overall your point still very much stands that there isn't just a surface level unhappiness with rodimus- there are many other factors playing into why someone would be a mutineer or how someone who is already isolated and vulnerable can be nudged onto that path by an outsider force. again, very good read, thank you for sharing!

LOL YOU'RE SUPER RIGHT ABOUT IT BEING HOIST

This is what I get for trying to check Tumblr and write a whole thing at 6 AM while working and getting ready to move at the same time!! My brain is cooked!!

That's the funniest mistake I've ever made, thank you for bringing it to my attention. Genuinely this is the most I've laughed in like two months, thank you. <3 I got so into it and never even noticed. LOL

I'll edit the post to highlight that I fucked it up but I'm not going to delete it because honestly I'm proud of how almost-coherent I was while this severely exhausted.

Anyway, thank you so much for the lovely comment, and I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it anyway! :) <3

I definitely wanted to highlight the panel as a general example of other factors and how they play into what might motivate an individual to mutiny, so the general point hopefully still holds up despite my very sleep deprived character mix-up, lmao.

But I'm glad the first half of the post is a little more coherent, as I think the disregard Optimus had for the command and crew of the Lost Light is one of the first and most significant single decisions that contributed to issues that persisted and affected other outcomes etc. and it's interesting to see how it all cascades together to contribute to the circumstances that fostered a mutiny.

I'm happy to hear you liked it, thank you so much for reading through it even though I was clearly very tired when I wrote it and rambled on for quite a bit! :')

[binnie-bitch]

'Lock Our Love' - Chapter 2

AO3 Link - Masterpost Pairing: Seo Changbin/Johnny Suh Tags: Strangers to Lovers, First Meetings, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Chapter Word Count: 4k Status: Ongoing Summary: 'NCT Johnny and Stray Kids Changbin caught in dating rumors' Johnny blinked. He read over it again, rubbed his eyes, and read again. "What the fuck?" "You have to read everything,” Doyoung said, giving his phone over. Johnny glanced up at him, then over at Taeyong, who looked absolutely miserable. Johnny's own mind was going as slow as a snail trying to comprehend what was written on the screen. It had to be a joke. It had to be. No matter how Johnny twisted the words in his mind, they didn't make any sense. Taking a deep breath, he scrolled down. ~~~~ Johnny and Changbin are rumored to be dating, even though they have never talked before. But then they do talk. Then they become friends. The next step seems inevitable for them. But can they survive when all eyes are on them?   A/N: I forgot to say at the beginning of the first chapter, but I started writing this at the beginning of december and so I ignored some things that happened the last few months for the sake of the plot, mostly world tours and that one incident where some of the 127 members got hurt during a photoshoot. I just generally played a little fast and loose with the timeline, and also who in NCT knows who in Stray Kids. This fic is so self indulgent, my dudes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For years, Changbin had been worried about getting involved in a scandal. And then it happened and he decided it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, he had a bit of a heart attack when Jisung bursted into the kitchen early in the morning. Changbin also wished he would wake up from whatever nightmare he found himself in when he had read the article. But denial was a powerful tool, and Changbin had become quite talented with it.

Everyone assured him. Even when the second article came out, Changbin told himself it was fine. As long as the company didn't deem it worthy of their attention, it wasn't a big deal.

Except, it very much was. As Changbin stared at the picture of some random couple that only vaguely looked like him and Johnny, he worried. The moment people started lying, it could only get worse. It opened the floodgates and before Changbin could find a place to hide, the water would rise and drag him away.

Changbin smiled with every question. Each bit of assurance. The way everyone pitied him. He smiled, because that’s what he always did.

All the while, anxiety crawled under his skin like a colony of ants that Changbin couldn't shake off. Sleep turned out to be almost impossible. His mind kept wandering to all kinds of what-ifs. None of the songs he wrote during that time had any value. No rhythm or rhyme. Just mindless ramblings that were buried in the depths of Changbin’s closet with all his other failures.

Actually meeting Johnny in a random bathroom at a music show seemed surreal. For a moment, Changbin thought his sleep deprivation had finally caught up to him. Maybe he had finally succumbed to the hallucinations Wooyoung had warned him about. Even as he talked with Johnny, the reality of it all didn't quite settle in until later that day in bed.

The first message made it all too real.

[NCT Johnny] 'I'm sorry if I was a little too forward. I can delete your number again, if you want.'

Changbin took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes. He typed out an answer. He deleted the whole thing. Rinse and repeat. Nothing quite felt like the appropriate answer. It didn't seem right to tell his senior to never talk to him again. Especially because Changbin respected him so much, and just exchanging numbers didn't mean anything. A lot of idols he wouldn't consider friends had his number. So many of whom he had only texted once, then never again.

But the possibility was there. Changbin walked on a tightrope with no net underneath him. But he was already on it, he might as well go all the way.

[Dwaekki] 'It's okay. I'm not gonna complain about a chance to talk to you.'

That wasn’t the correct response either, but there was only so long Changbin could write and delete until it became suspicious. If Johnny was even bothering to stare at the little bubble that indicated Changbin’s struggles.

The immediate answer hit like a punch in the throat.

[NCT Johnny] 'Yeah? Have you already fallen madly in love with me?'

Changbin choked on his own spit, falling into a whole coughing fit. It was bad enough that Chan asked through the wall if Changbin was okay. He wasn't. Not at all, but he gave the wall a thumbs up, yelling a quick "All good" back.

Taking a deep breath, he looked back down at his phone. Although, reading the message for a second time didn't help.

[Dwaekki] 'You're really chill about this whole thing'

[NCT Johnny] 'Yo, chiller than Elsa.' 'I don't think anything else is gonna happen' 'Just think about how this is bringing us together. Two talented and handsome rappers.'

Changbin chuckled, relaxing into his pillows. He relaxed! For the first time since that first article came out, Changbin's heart beat a little lighter. Unlike everyone else, who could easily preach about not worrying, Johnny was sitting in the boat with Changbin. Him saying they wouldn't drown eased the fear of the cold waters.

[Dwaekki] 'Thanks, hyung.'

A happy emoji was all he got in return, but it mattered more than Changbin liked to admit. He wasn't going to worry about the dizzying height or the deep abyss if it meant finding a new friend.

Everything was going to turn out fine anyway. Stray Kids had survived worse. Changbin had survived worse. Overreacting wasn't going to help him. Frankly, it was embarrassing when the other person involved didn't seem to be swayed at all by everything.

It was just a rumor at the end of the day. The world would forget about it the moment a different idol gets caught in a scandal.

~~~~~~~~

Another article released the day they had an interview for their upcoming comeback. Changbin caught it at breakfast. Just more baseless speculation, repeating what people said on twitter, mentioning the lack of statement. As if that was proof of anything.

Yet, even later on in the dressing room, preparing for the interview, Changbin was still hung up on it. Like trying to find the answer to the meaning of life, he read every comment and twitter post. Encouragement. Insults. A whole spectrum of opinions about Changbin’s personal life.

"Stop reading this," Jisung said as he snatched Changbin's phone.

"I should know what's being said about me."

"No, because it's all fake anyway." Jisung skimmed over the article with a deepening frown. "They still believe that dumb picture is real. I hope the company finally makes a statement, so this rumor can die."

"Can I have my phone back now?"

"Promise you won't look at this shit again?"

"Language, Hannie. We're in public."

Jisung stuck out his tongue like the child he was. Changbin retaliated with a mocking mimic of the gesture, earning himself a slap on his outstretched hand.

"Ya! You little brat!"

Changbin jumped to his feet. He reached for his phone, but Jisung ducked away.

"Language, hyung!"

At his second attempt, Changbin caught Jisung by the collar. He yanked him closer. Jisung twisted until they were chest to back. Changbin wrapped his arms tighter around the other's torso, grabbing at Jisung's wrists. All it did was make Jisung curl further into himself. Curses and laughter filled the space until they were both on their knees, breathless, sweaty. Jisung begged for a truce. Changbin used the moment of weakness, and stole his phone back. Gasping, Jisung fell forward on all fours, laughing and catching his breath.

Changbin huffed.

"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"Aww, hyung, I love you too~"

Jisung only laughed more at the slap on the arm. Eventually, Changbin joined in. They only stopped when one of the stylists got them both back into their chairs to fix anything damaged by their little wrestling match.

Unperturbed by the hands fussing over his hair, Changbin put his attention back on his phone. The article was closed. Instead, Changbin was greeted by a message from Johnny. A smile creeped onto his face as he opened the chat. A quick 'Good luck' with a follow-up message complaining about his dance practice.

It only had been somewhat over a week, but with them using any free minute to text, they had already gotten pretty close. So Changbin bravely teased Johnny about him possibly dancing shirtless. He had seen the clips of Johnny doing it before.

There was no instant reply this time. Regret settled in record time.

Then a picture opened up in the chat. One that had Changbin slam his phone to his chest. He looked around. The stylist was already gone again, and Jisung was occupied with annoying Hyunjin.

Swallowing, Changbin dared another glimpse at the picture. A selfie, to be exact, of Johnny in the dance practice room in front of the mirror. Another member was sitting in the background, slumped over his phone. Changbin wondered who, but he knew he was only trying to distract himself from the real issue at hand.

Johnny's bare chest and stomach.

Warm toned skin stretched over a slim torso, and firm lines of muscles. Sweat glistened where the light hit Johnny's shoulders perfectly. Some of his tattoo peeked out along his biceps, trailing to his collarbone, enticing the viewer to look closer. He had one hand in his hair, caught in the motion of ruffling the black mess. Most of his face was hidden by the phone, but Changbin recognized the sharp jawline peeking underneath.

Changbin inhaled deeply. All kinds of very inappropriate thoughts twirled in his mind. None of them were any help for what he could have said in return. Just another reminder that Changbin couldn't take what he liked to give, no matter how much he thought he could. But teasing was a two way street, and Johnny hadn't exactly been shy at any point. If Changbin wasn't suffering because of it, he would have admired that boldness.

Thankfully, an excuse came in the form of Bang Chan, who called all his members together. Changbin slipped his phone into his bag and joined the group.

"Everyone ready?" Chan asked.

Agreement hushed through the crowd, some more enthusiastic than others. Changbin tried to be part of the first group. Tried. But his heart was running a marathon, his mind close behind as fear crashed over him. He tried to think about Johnny, about one of the jokes he had made this morning, but as Changbin sat down, everything melted away under the blinding lights.

As if he had never done interviews before. It was the same old set up. Two rows of chairs, Changbin squeezed in the front between Hyunjin and Jeongin, with some guy he would never see again seated before them. Most of the staff wasn't even listening, focused on keeping everything running. Besides, all the questions had to go through their manager first.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

"Please," the interviewer waved towards them, "tell us about your new album."

Predictable.

Changbin adjusted his posture, following the eyes of the other members as they decided on the sacrifice. It ended up being Minho, who gave the barest, and easiest answer possible. Chan added a few words just to fill some more space.

"Every song explores a different type of love. They all have a unique sound, which hopefully means STAYs will find at least one they enjoy."

The interviewer hummed, smiling, drawing out the moment as he waited for anyone else to say something. When they didn't, he chuckled a little.

"I assume all of them are focused on romantic love, yes?"

"Yes, in a way," Chan carefully said.

"How much experience do you guys have with this?"

Changbin stiffened. Looking around, he found that he wasn't the only one taken aback. Jeongin and Jisung exchanged panicked glances with the older members. Some gave restrained laughs for the sake of being polite, but even the manager’s eyes bulged with shock.

"Well, experience is a difficult thing to define, isn't it?" Felix laughed nervously.

"Is it?" The interviewer raised an eyebrow.

A cold shiver chased down Changbin's spine as their eyes met.

"There has been a lot of speculation about you, Changbin-ssi. Do you want to give a comment on the matter?"

Changbin's heart sank.

The interviewer smiled as he continued.

"I'm sure you want to clear things up about the whole affair. Most importantly about the question if you're gay, right?"

Changbin opened his mouth. All that came out was a heavy exhale, like someone had punched all the air from his lungs. Heat crawled into his cheeks. A million ants under his skin. They filled his throat and chest, weighing on his breath. The lights seemed to get brighter, and his vision blurred, but he blinked through it, desperate to stay focused.

This was nothing. So simple. Inhale. Exhale.

"I don't think this is appropriate to ask," Chan said, frowning.

This seemed to wake the manager up as well and he walked over to the interviewer. They exchanged a few words, too quiet to catch everything, especially with the blood rushing in Changbin's ear.

As the two men parted, the interviewer pursed his lips. It immediately switched back to a smile, and he looked down at his notes.

"Well, let's move on to the last question then-"

As the man continued, his voice fizzled into white noise.

Changbin gripped the edge of his seat, as if he could slip if he let go. He swallowed against the sick sensation crawling up his throat. Everything seemed to pull away from him, and only a small voice in the back of his head reminded him to stay cool. The sweat running down his forehead could be blamed on the lights. No one could hear his heart rattling against his ribcage. They only saw his pressed lips, not the clenched teeth behind.

This was nothing. It didn't matter.

Changbin powered through the last bit of saying goodbye to everyone. The interviewer gave him a weird look. Everyone seemed to stare. Like the jury in a court, deciding Changbin's fate. It was Chan's gentle hand on his back that kept Changbin grounded. The warmth of his palm burned along his spine like a reminder.

Makeup off. Clothing changes. One more word with the manager. The car drive home. It all flitted by in a haze. Changbin knew it all so well, sparing no thought for his actions as he got swept along with it all. He was only vaguely aware of the way his members looked at him. He caught their quiet assurances and gentle touches, but none of it stuck.

The front door closed on its own behind them as they stepped into the dorm. Chan took a deep, very audible breath. Both Jisung and Hyunjin looked at him fully, while Changbin only gave a side glance. With the exhale, Chan threw his bag on the couch.

"What the fuck was this guy's problem?”

"Hyung-" Jisung tried.

"Fuck that dude!" Chan continued. "Our fucking manager explicitly told him not to ask anything about the rumors! Did he really think we were gonna tell him anything?"

The three at the door watched their leader pace up and down the room. His curses switched between English and Korean in no clear rhythm. While Hyunjin looked a lot more concerned, Jisung cowered against the wall. Any other time, Changbin would have stopped Chan. Then Chan would have apologized to Jisung. He would have calmed him down. Everything would have been fine.

But Changbin's throat tightened as he opened his mouth.

Glancing at Jisung, then at Hyunjin, Changbin gave them both an apologetic look. He bowed his head, and walked away. Almost immediately, Chan's rambles died. They were replaced by Changbin’s name. Chan’s steps echoed close behind Changbin, his voice careful.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Changbin said.

"We should-"

"I don't want to!"

Changbin swallowed, taken aback himself by the strength behind his words. Chan stopped a few meters away. They stared at each other for a moment. Concern tugged at every corner of Chan's face, weighing guilt on Changbin's heart when he looked away. He slipped into his room, shutting the door, and locking it. Gentle knocking echoed through the wood. Chan called out to him, but Changbin ignored it.

He leaned against the door, heart jumping in his chest. Soft footsteps reached him from the hallway. Hyunjin's hushed voice followed, but the words drowned in the white noise buzzing in Changbin’s ears.

He slid down the door all the way down to the floor. The moment he was sitting, he shuddered with the first sob. Squeezing his eyes shut, Changbin took a shaky breath. Tears stained his palm as he rubbed a hand over his face. He stared at the damp spots in the dim light of his room, frowning.

Changbin wiped away some of the tears with his sweater sleeve, swallowing, breathing deeply. Looking down, he realized he was still wearing his street shoes. He sighed. Absently kicking them off, he pulled out his phone from his almost forgotten bag, and unlocked the screen. Immediately, he was greeted by more messages from Johnny.

A weak smile tugged at Changbin’s lips.

[NCT Johnny] 'Yo, you good?’ ‘Did I scare you? Sorry' 'Was it too much?' 'Is your interview going well?' 'Taeil just rambled about fanta again' 'Did you know fanta was invented in germany?' 'If I drink any more, I'm gonna fucking puke'

The last message was a picture of a half empty Fanta bottle. One of Johnny's big hands was wrapped around the body, thumbnail picking at the label edge. Changbin gave in to the smile, sniffing.

[Dwaekki] 'I like the picture' 'The one from dance practice' 'But the bottle one too'

Almost immediately, the messages were marked as seen. Changbin's heart skipped a beat. He gripped his phone tighter, watching the bubble at the bottom.

Had Johnny waited the whole time for Changbin to text back? Or was he just conveniently on his phone?

Changbin shook his head. What did it matter? It shouldn't. It was dangerous thinking.

[NCT Johnny] 'Please drink the fanta for me’ ‘I can't take much more' 'How was your interview tho?'

How was the interview? Changbin leaned his head back, one hand pressed to his chest. He counted each beat of his heart, his breathing naturally falling into rhythm. Looking back down at his phone, he hesitated.

But Johnny would understand.

[Dwaekki] 'It was terrible. The guy asked about the rumors'

[NCT Johnny] 'For real???' 'People need to learn how to mind their own damn business' 'You okay?'

[Dwaekki] 'Not really'

The second Changbin sent that answer, he wanted to take it back. They weren't that close, no matter what had brought them together in the first place, but his fingers had typed faster than his mind could consider. He was ready to apologize and insist he was actually okay. But the screen lit up, and he froze.

A call. From Johnny.

Changbin's thumb hovered over the answer button. Something hot crawled up along his spine, igniting a new surge of energy like a runner’s high. He couldn't say what it was. He didn't want to say. He didn't have the time.

The call ended and Changbin immediately started another one. Johnny picked up only a split second later.

"Hey," Johnny said.

"Hey, Hyung."

"And here I thought you don't wanna talk to me."

"Ah, sorry. I was just surprised."

Johnny hummed. Another voice echoed in the background, asking who Johnny was calling. A yelp followed, and the stranger complained about a pillow getting dirty.

"Get out! Go bother someone else.”

A pause.

“I don't care!"

The unknown voice mocked Johnny's tone, but the words itself didn't quite reach through the phone. A door slammed shut, Johnny called the other person a brat. Silence. Changbin just got back on his feet when Johnny cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'm finally alone."

Changbin huffed a small chuckle. "Who was it?"

"Jaehyun. He's hiding from Yuta."

"Oh?"

Changbin vaguely knew the other NCT members from everything the others have told him. And also from the few - many - searches online to find out more about Johnny.

"Something about pudding," Johnny said, "I think Jaehyun ate Yuta's last one. Oh? Yuta is yelling-"

There indeed was a loud voice somewhere in the background. Changbin listened carefully. Johnny probably did too. It was hard to make out anything, and Changbin quickly gave up, sitting down on his bed instead. Exhaustion hit him instantly, awakened by the soft mattress. He laid back with a soft sigh.

"Well," Johnny finally said, "Jaehyun is dead. Very sad. Anyway."

Changbin laughed, body shaking with the sudden burst. A soft noise of surprise spilled through the phone.

"I can still hear Yuta yelling. It was definitely about the pudding," Johnny continued.

He sounded much more cheerful than his words warranted.

"Isn't it way too late to yell?" Changbin asked.

"It wouldn't be our first noise complaint. Though, I think our neighbors gave up after Taeil got into metal."

"Sounds fun."

The image of Johnny throwing a hand over his chest flashed before Changbin's eyes as Johnny sighed overly dramatic.

"You have no idea. Enough about the others though. How are you, Bunny?"

Changbin choked. "B-bunny?"

"Oh. Is that okay? I read about your little furry personas and Dwaekki is cute."

"Right. Yeah. It is. Bunny is okay."

Maybe. Hopefully. Changbin couldn't be entirely sure.

"Cool, cool," Johnny continued, the smirk shining through his tone. "So, how are you, bunny?"

"Good."

"Yeah? Thanks to me?"

"Maybe," Changbin said, equally smug as Johnny.

The older man's deep laugh rumbled through the phone, chasing a shiver down Changbin's spine. He put a hand over his chest, sinking deeper into the mattress. His heart stuttered in sync with Johnny humming.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always call me," Johnny said.

His voice dripped like rich dark chocolate, melting right into Changbin's ear.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The other members- I'm sure they're great friends, but I assume you don't want to burden them with your problems. I also better understand what you're going through."

"Obviously," Changbin whispered.

"Obviously," Johnny chuckled softly.

"You can talk to me too, if you need it," Changbin said.

"Thanks. I like talking to you, bunny."

There it was again, the low voice that had Changbin's heart skip a beat. It burned itself deeper into his mind with every word. Like everything else about Johnny. From his intense gaze in the bathroom, to his incredible body, Johnny had dug himself a hole in Changbin's brain like it was fine sand. His voice was just yet another part that pulled at the tightrope Changbin was walking on, threatening to push him off.

Changbin took a deep breath.

"I like talking to you too, hyung."

"Good. You should get some rest now. I need to see if Yuta has snapped and killed everyone."

Changbin snorted, shaking his head. "Be careful, then."

"Always! I'm the final girl of this movie."

"Aren't final girls normally virgins?"

Johnny gasped dramatically. "I need to hide. Wish me luck."

"Fighting!"

And with that, the call ended.

Silence wrapped heavily around Changbin much faster than he could prepare for. He swallowed, and glanced at his phone where Johnny's chat had opened up again. Before his mind could wander again, he scrolled up.

Changbin stopped at the dance practice picture for only a moment, now sure it was Mark sitting in the background. He continued his journey through their excessive text exchange to a picture from the day before. Also a selfie, but this time of Johnny sitting in a cafe, holding a mug. A wink accompanied his smirk, framed by his soft, long hair.

[NCT Johnny] 'The coffee is awful' 'But Jungwoo likes one of the waiters’ ‘He gets too nervous and I'm forced to come along' 'The things we do as hyungs'

Re-reading the messages, seeing Johnny's smile, it had a pleasant warmth bloom in Changbin's chest. Between all the schedules for their comeback, and his worries about the rumors, Johnny was exactly what Changbin needed.

Because Johnny was right. Changbin didn't want to go to his members with his problems. They had enough on their plates. He didn't want them to add by worrying about him.

Besides, Johnny was nice. Funny. Handsome. Talented-

Changbin was fucked, but he wasn't sure of the awareness of it made it better or worse. At least he knew about it and so had the opportunity to go against it. He wasn't that easy. This wasn't a drama. Love at first sight was a myth.

[dragonomatopoeia]

ok so i read a bit of accidental joker meta you wrote once. so, if it's possible, can you link me to the essay if it's published/available anywhere? not because i care about the joker (fuck that guy) but because i am now insanely curious about the societal and/or ideological function of Clowns and the persona's utility as a mirror to a surrounding public/audience

while i'm flattered that you're interested in my Clowns and Prison and Gender essay, i'm afraid it wouldn't pass muster for publication. I wrote it in undergrad with a tight deadline hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles, so it is the exact product of sleep-deprived academic rambling you might imagine it to be

some choice selections from my essay re: the clowns that help illustrate this:

"The clowns of Nights at The Circus describe their role as one in which they craft and develop their personae on their own terms, yet these personae are created solely to entertain others. The narrative goes as far as to say, “Despair is the constant companion of the clown,” (Carter 116), making note of their anguish at serving the whims of those for whom they perform."

"Their identities, while self-made, are parodies that are driven by the desires of the public, private constructions manufactured for public consumption. Nothing is left to be examined in solitude, nothing is internalized, and nothing is left unexamined. In such an atmosphere, it is no surprise when everything eventually descends into a chaotic farce, or a “dance of disintegration; and of regression; celebration of the primal slime” (Carter 125)."

"The clown only exists when observed; it is no wonder that they disappear in a whirlwind of a dance in the cold, empty expanse of Siberia, in which no audience is to be found. While the women prisoners of the panopticon find freedom in their lack of supervision, the clowns, whose identities are dependent on that observation, find nothing. They have built the foundations of themselves upon the expectations of others, and therefore have nothing left when those expectations disappear."

As you can see, I Was Going Through It.

but yeah the thesis of the essay was basically You Either Construct Gender as a Performance of Spectacle (clown) or a Performance of Penance (prisoner) which nice dichotomy what lies outside it etc etc. but you get what past Air meant probably

Anyway I originally wrote the essay as an analysis of Nights at The Circus by Angela Carter for the british lit course i was taking at the time, so if you'd like to go to the source for Thoughts on Clowns and Prison and Gender, that book has a lot of em. however! i do not remember if it was good.

[viscountessevie]

Note: I wrote this in an extremely delirious, sleep deprived state earlier today while editing my picture edit and formatting my Vignette lmao - its just very unhinged rambling through my process I thought some of yall might enjoy, if not feel free to scroll past! [There is a cute Cassie pic at the end if yall wanna ignore me and scroll down to see tho lmao]

Some Thots before I post Vignette #2 of Something There (Here Is Vignette #1): 

- Pleaseeee appreciate the edit - I know it looks simple but MY GOD combing through Pinterest and Cap-that.com was NO JOKE 

- Do yall know HOW RARE IT IS TO HAVE A WOC IN REGENCY CLOTHING MAKING OUT WTH SOMEONE??? MML’s main couples and Kate Sharma paved the way so show them some damn respect 

- Also I went through my S2 trauma for yall looking at the damn screenies; do you know how many times the Ginger Demon popped up before Kathony??? TOOOO MANY 

- And I went through my 5 stages of grief with S2 all over again and was bitching about how they fucked up on which shots to use cos holy shit the editing and shots chosen for the final cut WERE SHIT  

- ANOTHER editing note: So as I’m colour editing/grading my edit, I realise THEY DIDN’T LIGHT HER PROPERLY IN THE GAZEBO SCENE!! Cos colour grading screencaps from that scene came out like shit because they failed to light her and she was wayyy darker than she needed to be for that scene. They did so good in the almost kiss scene?? Whoooo lit her in the gazebo?? I want names! 

Like lighting was not my strong suit in film school but I bet your ass I can light her better. As the only one with my skin tone in my class, I had to experiment around myself to learn how to light Indian girlies, he and theys who share my skin tone. 

- As I finished writing this; I realised I sound insane and that’s cos I stayed up all night and really wanted to put out Vignette #2 asap and with a pretty edit to go with it too. I will be peacing out once the Vignette is posted - enjoy everyone and lmao no pressure to appreciate it I just wanna share it with whoever has enjoyed it or will stumble upon it!! 

Have a good night/day/afternoon yall :D

Also have a Cassie looking like an angry toddler than calmed me down when I was getting too angry about the lighting:

[beware-of-you-98]

you and i (jj x emily)

Warmth.

It's the first thing she becomes aware of as she's sucked from her blissful dreamscape into consciousness. She becomes acutely aware of sunlight beating down on her closed eyelids and squints as she teeters on that edge between awakening and falling right back asleep.

She exhales softly, stirring in the sheets, light linen scratching her bare legs and crinkling beneath her frame. She unconsciously moves closer to the warmth emanating from beside her, breathing out a soft, content sigh before she forces her eyes to squint open. She blinks slowly to adjust to the morning light, one hand slowly coming up to swipe the sleep from her eyes and cementing her journey back into consciousness.

JJ brings up the blanket to her chin, snuggling her face into the pillow, unwilling to untangle herself from the confines of her really comfortable bed, at the warmth the body beside her radiates. She stifles a yawn with the back of her hand, tucking it under the pillows to support her head. Instead of moving and starting her day, she focuses on the woman still asleep beside her, a smile coming to her lips immediately at the sight.

Emily is curled up at her side, one leg bent at the knee and hooked around JJ's legs while the other sprawls out behind her, toes barely poking out from under the edge of the blanket. One arm is tucked behind the stack of pillows at the head of the bed, cheek pressed undoubtedly right above her palm underneath layers of cotton and memory foam. Her other arm hangs loosely at her side, fingers curled loosely in JJ's own like they had been the night before. Her short, raven black hair, streaked with charcoal, gray and silver strands, splay out messily over the pillow. Her pale, bare skin nearly glittering under the rays of sun that poke through the curtains.

Lips slightly parted as she exhales, chest rising and falling steadily with her breaths.

She looks at peace, content, all the stresses from the job gone from her face. Instead, she looks softer and vulnerable.

Ethereal.

JJ untucks her hand from the pillow and reaches out, thumb coming up to swipe at the moisture escaping the corner of the older woman's lips with a feather light touch. Her thumb hovers for a few seconds, just ghosting Emily's lips before she slowly jerks the digit back as to not wake her. Her hand comes to barely brush through the older woman's hair, heart clenching as she stares over at her.

How she managed to wake up without this for over a decade, she'll honestly never know. She's often still so shocked, rendered completely speechless that this is her life now--that she can and does wake up to an actual angel, and angel that is completely and utterly as in love with her as she is with her, laying in bed with her on a daily basis. JJ often finds herself wanting to pinch herself to ensure that she's not dreaming because wow.

Wow.

She honestly considers herself the luckiest woman in the entire fucking world.

Blue eyes flick across Emily's sleeping figure adoringly, tracing across the sharp curve of her jaw, along her nose and down her lips. The blonde tucks her bottom lip between her teeth with a light flush when her eyes land on the red-purplish bruises in the shape of her own mouth littered down the side of Emily's pale neck, further up than JJ had consciously tried to be. They were nothing a layer or two of foundation (and Emily's hair) wouldn't cover, the blonde reasoned silently with herself, but still.

Oops.

She snuggles herself closer to Emily's side, sighing out again when the older woman presses closer to her. She closes her eyes, body relaxed under Emily's hold, at how blissfully domestic about this is. She presses her chin to the crown of the older woman's head, willing unconsciousness to creep up on her once more.

She blinks back awake when the door to the bedroom creaks open, but she doesn't make any sudden movement to turn and see who it is. Instead, she listens for tiny giggles, the sounds of tiny feet on carpeted ground, a whispered "shh," before the sound of a box spring protesting under the sudden movement. JJ braces herself for the impact of her three year old and nine year old sons to barrel into the bed to wake the up and start the rare day the women get off.

When she hears nothing and when she doesn't feel her sons tackling into either Emily or herself—that's right, Henry and Michael are at Will's for the week—does she turn to see who the bedroom intruder is.

A small, tired smile spreads on her face at the sight of the all black feline sitting beside the bed, tail swishing slowly on the carpet. Lazily, JJ hangs an arm down for Sergio to inspect, clicking her tongue tiredly when the cat bumps his chin against her palm. " 'Morning, Serg," she mumbles to the feline, voice rough and scratchy with sleep.

She yawns again, turning her head to muffle it into the pillow before scratching Sergio's cheek. " What s'matter, buddy?"

Sergio sits slowly on the floor right beneath her head, blinking up at her owlishly.

"Num-nums?" she murmurs, using a higher tone to address the feline, hoping to gauge some reaction from him. " 's a lil early for breakfast."

Sergio just blinks again, tail swishing once on the carpet.

JJ hums quietly, pursing her lips in thought.

"Walk?" she tries again.

Sergio's pupils widen slowly at the word, tail twitching as he looks up at the blonde hopefully.

"You wanna go for a walk?" JJ elaborates more clearly, chest rumbling with a silent chuckle as the cat chirps in agreement. "Okay," she relents, finally forcing herself upright.

She carefully removes herself from Emily's hold to not wake her, looking around on the floor until she spots the older woman's t-shirt she had thrown the night before. She picks up the black cloth, pinching it up by the collar and shaking the fabric until the light blue silk bra tumbles to the floor. She slips it over her head, padding over to the dresser and finding a pair of boy shorts to slip on underneath.

She glances back over to Emily on the bed, torn between letting her rest (she needs it) and asking her to come along (the blonde knows Emily hates waking to an empty bed). With that thought in mind, JJ flits her way back to the bed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the older woman's temple. "Baby...Em."

Emily groans softly at the sound of JJ's voice, stirring with a sharp, slow exhale as she wakes up. She lazily reaches her arm up, looping it around the blonde's neck and pulling her down for a kiss. Their lips move slowly against one another's, Emily slowly becoming more aware as the minutes tick by.

She plants a few more lazy, soft kisses on JJ's lips before pulling away, stretching her arms over her head with a tired grin. "Well, good morning."

JJ beams— she can't help herself.

"Good morning," she sighs dreamily, tongue darting out to wet her lips before she clears her throat with a shy smile. "Our oldest wants to go for a walk. Come with us."

Emily rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, impish grin on her face as she focuses on her girlfriend. "Is that my shirt?" she drawls playfully, pointing to the long t-shirt drowning JJ's smaller frame.

"Maybe," the blonde drags out just as playfully, reaching and grabbing both of Emily's hands in her own before pulling her up onto her knees on the mattress. "Sergio wants to go for a walk," JJ repeats softly.

Emily wraps her arms loosely around her girlfriend's waist, leaning up and pressing a kiss on her chin. "Sergio has no consideration for the time— it's six in the morning," she points out in a low, playful matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, is that so?" JJ breathes out a chuckle in amusement, hands coming up to loosely hang around the brunette's shoulder. "You're an early bird," she points out.

Emily leans in and presses a series of wet, soft kisses along the blonde's jawline, making her breath hitch. "I am," she confirms, palms smoothing out on the plain of JJ's stomach beneath the stolen shirt. "I just was thinking I would spend my six AM with my head between—"

JJ playfully swats her girlfriend's roaming hands away, placing a soft kiss on her nose. "Sorry, baby, those plans are going to have to wait until at least 8 o'clock."

Emily bats her eyelashes innocently up a the blonde. "7:30 if I get the coffee ready?"

JJ bobs her head to the side, visually weighing the offer with a hum before grinning. "You do know the way to my heart, don't you, Agent Prentiss?"

Emily grins sleepily. "I do!"

JJ presses one more kiss to Emily's lips before hoisting her from the bed, making her stand up right. "Come on, let's take our cat for a walk."

"Coffee isn't going to make itself," Emily agrees, searching around on the floor until she finds her pajama bottoms, slipping those on before tugging on a tank top while the blonde secures Sergio in his harness.

"Hey, Jayje?"

At the sound of Emily's voice, so light and sweet, JJ turn with a soft smile.

"Yeah?"

Emily's expression softens, eyes shining with nothing but an expression JJ can only describe as completely in love. "I love you," she sighs out with a smile. "I really, really do love you so much."

JJ swallows back her tears at the sincerity in Emily's voice, entire body filled with warmth at the older woman's words. She really does have no idea how she lived before without Emily in her life like this, how she managed to convince herself for years that Emily could never feel for er the way she did.

Emily made her feel like she hung all the stars in the sky, as if she were someone so incredibly special and worthy.

JJ presses her lips firmly to Emily's hoping that she can convey even a smidge of emotions she feels for the brunette with the simple gesture.

She pulls away, leaning her forehead on Emily's before opening her eyes. Her breath hitches at the soft, loving look she's sure is reflected in her own eyes as she stares back into pools of warm brown.

"I love you, too."

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[raggaraddy]

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh. 

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n.  I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

[thismaydestroyme]

Little Did I know Pt. 2

summary: in this short story, harry is famous, and he moved into a town during the summer to relax and potentially write some new songs for his upcoming album. i included some song lyrics from different amazing artists, and i pretended that harry and y/n wrote it.

author’s note: i wrote the beginning of this two months ago me being lazy i picked up where i left off because i’m too lazy to read through this. so if there’s any major fuck ups then…. i did warn you that i’m incompetent

word count: 3165

“I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU!” Y/N shouts out, and little did you know Harry was front and center watching your trainwreck of a performance. 

Harry did a whole french inhale without breaking eye contact with you. “I really wanna dance tonight with you.” Y/N hears Brittany playing in the background which you pause the music, to see what Harry would say about your little ‘performance.’ 

“Really? A slave? don’t you think it’s pretty dramatic don’t ya think?” Harry says, raising one of his eyebrows. You know he’s just playing around, but you coudn’t help feeling embarrassed how he fucking witnessed… that. You don't want Harry to know that you’re embarrassed, so you did the next best thing. 

“That fucking snake was huge. Did you know she was holding an Albino Burmese Python? I bet MTV wasn’t expecting that. Do you think MTV got filthy rich from that performance? Everyone tuned in for that performance and till this day it’s still the most talked about.” You ramble and spew out random information you bet Harry couldn’t care two shit about.” Harry has a smirk on his face, you bet he was enjoying you looking like a damn idiot. 

You start profusely apologizing until Harry interrupts you, “Do you want to come over?” He says all nonchalantly and walks away without you even agreeing. You’re all stunned and weren't able to even say one single word or even move your two feet. Harry doesn’t need to turn around to see you not moving, “C’mon weirdo, don’t act all shy with me now.” He threw back. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, but your feet finally start to move and your feet are heading straight to Harry. 

Harry turned his head and started to smirk, but he kept walking which had you feeling some nerves building up in your stomach. You’re not scared per se, just you’re going to Harry Styles house. This is normal. This is fine. This is just a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

Cool. 

When you finally get to his entrance Harry is already inside and he disappears somewhere because you don’t see him. You hesitantly walk inside and shut the door behind you. When you turn around you couldn’t help, but notice the disarray this house is covered in. Your mouth gape opened, but you immediately brought your hands to cover up how shocked you are. You couldn’t help but gawk at Harry’s place. There’s a big pink couch in the center of the room which is covered in boxes and clothes. There’s a TV on the floor which doesn’t seem to be plugged in because you don’t see it even plugged in. You try not to be too judgy because he did just move in, so what do you expect?  Harry having his life all sorted out in a span of a couple of weeks? 

You almost missed the nice white fluffy carpet that’s underneath the couch. Even though Harry’s place is a disaster, you can envision what Harry is planning on doing when he has his stuff all situated. In the back of your mind you hope he might even invite you back if he does a ‘welcoming party.’

Before you could even investigate more Harry walks back in with two bottles of water in his hand. He’s already drinking out of one of them, so he handed the one that hasn’t been opened to you. You reach your hands over to grab it. 

“This isn’t safe for the environment.” You states while unscrewing the cap. 

“Well.. you belting out to Britney is an endangerment to our society, so I guess we both got the short end of the sticks.” 

You immediately start drinking your water because you didn’t have your next rebuttal. You start scanning the room and hoping it’ll have your heartbeat settle down because you can feel it through your chest. Harry moves from his spot and starts taking boxes off the couch and to make some room for the both of you. He had to take down three boxes, so you could both sit comfortably. 

Harry walks over to you, but you freeze. Harry was pleased knowing he had you all flustered. It was one of Harry’s turn ons. Harry sits and brings his arms draping on the back of the couch which would have you being in his arm if you decide to sit right there. A couple of seconds of you contemplating you walk towards Harry and hesitantly sit down. 

“I’m not going to bite.” he whispers in your left ear. Feeling his breath in your ear made you slightly clench your thighs together, hoping Harry doesn’t notice. But knowing your track record he probably did notice.

You try to come up with a conversation starter that hopefully doesn't hold all the spotlight on you. You look down at her close water bottle and scrambling for something in her head. 

“Now you’re shy. The last time I checked up you were coming for my head after that  mishap with your dog earlier.” 

“You deserved it. You were attacking Cosmo, so yeah. I was in fact coming for your ass.” You glance your eyes to Harry. You’re overly protected over Cosmo. Cosmo is your life.

Harry gave you a smirk. He couldn’t help but to admire your bluntness. He barely comes across people who lit a fire inside of him. They always try to please him because he is a celebrity, and people just want to please him- which he doesn’t mind, but he does wish they sometime bites back. Having you in his presence he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, little did he know, he wants to get to know you more. 

“What do you do, Y/N besides piercing people’s eardrums and being a dog mom.” 

“Ummm.. that’s a loaded fucking question. But you being Harry fuckin’ Styles I guess I have to come up with something to make myself more interesting and less… chaotic. Well I’m a 21 years old who doesn’t have anything to offer to this world. I live my life accepting I’ll probably be working at Newbury Comics. And on top of that I love music, but I’ll be considered unqualified because I have no talents, and all I could do is muster up some mediocre lyrics that I have stored in my notes app.” 

Harry didn’t break any eye contact when you were summarizing your sad life. That created a pit in your stomach because you never experienced anything that could ever compare to Harry’s tense gaze. 

Harry never encountered anyone in the span of meeting them baring their skin to him. He couldn’t help, but feel some sort of pride knowing he created a space for Y/N to be able to let your hair down and express herself in full detail. He feels more drawn to you because he knows what you’re feeling. The unknown is a scary thing to feel, but you’re doing that with grace without you even realizing it. Just accepting reality is the biggest thing to acknowledge, and you’re doing just that. 

“What do you have on your notes? Could you even help me write my next album.” Harry shrug glances his eyes away from you. 

You feel a surge of worries entering her body. You don't know what’s going on, and you don't like it. “What?! You barely know me. My so-called ‘lyrics’ could be shitty and cliche. What are you getting out of this? My humiliation?” You don't like being taken as a joke, but that’s all  you could come up with this peculiar interaction. Harry sees a naive little girl. 

“You’re pretty,” Harry says. And that’s all he said. He got up and walked out the room. You're left on the couch alone, and not understanding what he just said. Just a few minutes ago he asked for your help, and now just a few seconds ago he said you’re pretty. What kind of fuckery is this?!

You immediately got up and walked to whatever room you could find Harry in. It wasn’t that hard because Harry is in the kitchen. 

“Harry! I need you to explain. Talk to me, please.” You say while running her hands down your face. You thanked yourself for not wearing any makeup.

“Uh, you beg. I like that Y/N,” Harry chuckles and closes his fridge door. 

“Well…. I do find you attractive and I see a potential in you. I might be wrong or I might be right. There’s nothing wrong with finding out and seeing what you have.” Harry says. Harry isn’t afraid to look people in the eyes, but you sure do. You’re debating if you should  take this risk. Harry did say there’s nothing wrong with finding it out. 

“Fine. I will take that jump with you.” You say unsurely, but you have some faith in him and a little bit in yourself. 

“Good. Now can you stop being tense and enjoy yourself. You’re in fact talking to the one and only Harry Styles.” 

“Shut up, doofus.” 

One month Later

After Harry made the deal with you a month ago,  you guys have been surprisingly working together quite nicely. You guys wrote one complete song, and that song is now called, “Dirty Little Secret.” You can’t wait to hear Harry sing that song with his band because you’re pretty sure it will fit the band theme for his upcoming album. Harry doesn’t want to limit himself, but he does have an idea to make his third album mostly rock. 

Harry didn’t expect you to be a fuckin’ genious. Watching you in the corner jotting down lines in your beat up notebook with a pen in your hand made you start feeling someway. You always appreciate the art seeing people enjoy what they do, but Y/N is truly gifted because she has no experience with producing music. One long night two weeks ago you guys were sleep deprived because there was a week where you guys would stay up all night to write and you would stop when you saw the sunrise. Y/N found her love in music because of her father. He was a huge factor that made her who she is today. There was substance in her when she would talk about the accent in a song, how she would bounce that off with the bar while you would play the instruments. Y/N is truly a force to be reckoned with and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be like to have her on tour with you. 

Y/N never felt more alive after her father passed. It’s like Harry woken something inside of her. You never thought you would experiment with music with Harry Styles, the artist for this generation. You’re not going to lie that you would watched all of his interviews and he would talk about when he write songs he has no boundaries, and it’s crazy he upheld that ideology because Harry made sure you know that there’s no right or wrong way, the only way is to play around and see how it goes. 

“I’m going to get some water. Do you want some?” You ask Harry dropping your notebook on the coffee table that’s covered in rolled up papers and a lot of take out boxes.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He says. You nod at him, and you got up to grab two cups of ice water for you both. 

Your notebook page flipped to a new page and Harry couldn’t help but notice to see “Bubblegum Bitch” written in all caps. Harry got intrigued, so he happily kicked the table so the book could fall, so his excuse could be, “Y/N it fell.” 

Harry kicked the coffee table with his big ass feet and the notebook happily splat on the floor. Harry reached for it and started flipping pages to see that title again, and it took him a couple of tries to find it. 

“Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I'm the girl you'd die for”

Harry couldn’t help but not try to read all the lyrics. He wants to digest it all, but he knew Y/N could walk in any second. He couldn’t help but make a small gasp when he skimmed to the part of the song that had him falling on his knees 

“I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch.” 

“Harry, what are you doing?” Y/N says timidly. On the outside Y/N is calm and cool and collective, but on the inside you’re shaking and screaming. Your songs are attended only to you, not for other eyes to see. You’re still not confident with your writing abilities when it comes to songs for yourself, but knowing your idol probably read more than one line of your song is having you want the ground to swallow you up. 

“I’m not going to tiptoe around you and pretend Y/N. Bubblegum Bitch is amazing, fuck maybe fucking brillant Y/N. Shit.” Harry says he looks at you but goes back down to your notebook flipping pages after pages. 

You’re stuck where you’re standing. Feeling the condensation of two cups of water you’re currently holding is the only concept you’re able to maintain. 

Did Harry say that he likes your songs? Did he say brilliant? You’re not able to speak, all you’re able to do is walk up to the coffee table, drop the cups down and grab your notebook from Harry's grabby hands and collect your belongings. This is too much. You feel too much. You simply can’t right now. 

Harry sees you picking up your stuff and shoving your notebook and pens in your purse you bring every time you visit him. Harry couldn’t help, but feel bad that he could possibly make you feel uncomfortable. 

Harry stands up and starts walking up to where you are putting the last thing in your bag, “Y/N I’m sorry if me going through your stuff made you angry, but I couldn't help it Y/N. What I read was amazing, you’re amazing.” Harry hurrys out his words because he felt if he didn’t say it fast enough you would vanish. 

You’re trying to hold back your tears because it’s getting too much for you. The last time somebody read your stuff was your father, and right now you feel like you’re betraying the intimate moments you had with him. He was the one you would share your songs first with him. Now that he’s gone, you couldn’t put yourself out there to have someone else read it. You turn back around and you try to give a smile to Harry. 

“It’s okay, I- I just have to go. I’m sorry. We can talk later.” You push past Harry to make it to the front door, but you feel someone hand on your wrist so you immediately stop. 

“Y/N, I can’t have you leave, when I know that you’re not okay. Can you please talk to me? Please?” There’s a hint of sadness in Harry. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave him without having the answer he’s yearning for. 

You turn around and there’s Harry. His green eyes are pleading with yours, and you couldn’t help, but do what Harry is asking you to do. 

“Okay, I don’t want pity. Okay? Tell me you understand.” You ask Harry because the last thing you want from him is sympathy. 

“I promise Y/N. Would you mind if we sit down?” You nod your head and he walks you back with his hand in your hand. You both couldn’t help but feel some sort of palse running inside you both while holding each other's hands. It’s something both of you guys can’t simply forget. 

You got to the couch and you both sat down, no longer holding hands. You adjust yourself so you can face him. “Okay. My father died a couple of years ago and he was the only one I let read my stuff first. After he passed I never showed anyone my stuff because it would feel like I’m replacing him. I’m not mad that you read my stuff- I was just surprised, and I couldn’t help it but feel sadness creeping over me. Once again, I’m not angry at you, I’m just adjusting to a new milestone I just crossed without me not realizing it.” You say, and you’re hoping Harry doesn’t say, “Oh I’m sorry”  because you’re sorry to. 

“Well, I’m not sorry for your loss,” Harry says and you couldn’t help, but smile and laugh. “but I’m not sorry that I read it. You have something Y/N and I know you told me you haven’t had any experience in music industry, but fuck that. You have passion and I feel that every time we write something together in the past month, I don’t think I'll be able to forget about you when the summer is over.” Harry says. There was so much sincerity in what he just said.  

You thought it was all one sided because you felt so much being with Harry. You felt you were finally seeing a rainbow you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Harry brings so much out of you that you. Harry was always there when you were scared to take the first step. Him being there with you made it less scary because he was there every step of the way.

Harry didn’t expect he would’ve met someone this summer who would make such an impact on him. Harry thought he would do a lot of hooks up, go to parties and write for the entirety of the summer. But the universe had something planned for him. He met Y/N. He didn’t want to tell Y/N he that he found his first and only love, but he didn’t want to scare her. She could probably feel the same way or she only saw him as a friend but neither of them were ready for that big leap of faith. Even Y/N knew Harry is someone she couldn’t live without because he brings something out of you that you never felt in your entire life and that was courage and faith. 

Y/N met her faith. Only time could tell if faith would lead Harry and Y/N the soulmate they both were looking for.

“Harry, I don’t think I could possibly forget about you.” Y/N whisper because you felt if you used your normal voice the bubble you guys created would shatter within seconds.

Faith is a silly thing because faith could have you longing for something that’s impossible to grasp or faith could have you leaving you vulnerable, but that vulnerability could unlock something you never dreamt was even possible. 

[witch-witcher-witchless]

@firefly-party

Your lovely comment: You are sooo adorable! omg! but listen here, i'm totally the same! Look, you're an amazing author and you're also writing Jaskel! You make them tick exactly the same as i imagine them... and...this is everything to me? i'd die for you! hahaha 💖 So go on and ramble all you want bc i won't stop either 😂 (i also recognized you from that lovely comment you left in my work here on ao3? (i still have that screenshot saved! hehe) so imagine me all 👀👀👀 when i saw your jaskel fic!)

Still AHHHH 😂

I also wanna apologize in advance in case my comment doesn't make much sense. i read your reply around...6am today (after i went to bed at 2am (oof)) and i couldn't stop thinking about your words and my brain went fully brrrrrr-mode so i grabbed my phone and took notes about all the things i want to mention in *this* reply right now. i hope i can...decrypt my sleep deprived notes 😂

It's all good! I'd never even guess a sleep deprived person wrote this!

Coming back to the day to day trust thing and how they both experience it more or less for the first time? Look, Jask is a popular bard. Ppl like him for his fame and for his looks but they never *know* the real Jaskier. So the first time Jask experiences full friendship and trust bc Eskel's not the type to just jump at him bc he's good looking or for any kind of fame. They become friends over the time travelling together, with Jask stitching wounds, gaining some money with music and entertainment while eskel's the one to hunt for food and who keeps them safe. Both simply caring for each other's well being.

Ohhhh, that's spot on, I think! I def think Eskel is the type to try shake (metaphorically?) Jaskier off of travelling with him when he first gets a bard-barnacle. A bardnacle if you will, but ends up just automatically gathering more wood for a bigger fire, hunting more food, picking Jaskier's favourite cooking herbs along with his potion ingredients, and he suddenly realizes that yes, Jaskier is his friend -and Jaskier has never had anyone actually work for friendship before, never had that kind of thoughtfulness reciprocated. Ever.

Eskel's might be overwhelmed with Jask's trust at first? He has to learn being accepted by a human being. A human who cares for a scarred witcher.

And Jaskier, never really experiencing that kind of "deep" friendship before gets all handsy bc he's nervous and constantly has to check that Eskel's really real? And as you said, those casual touches are overwhelming Eskel bc.... who'd do that willingly?

Omg yes! At first Eskel just feels constantly alert, like he can't relax because why is this human even looking at him -is it the scars? Is it his eyes? Is it when the ridiculous bard managed to pull a full laugh out of him and inadvertently flashed his sharper canines? WHAT IS HIS PURPOSE AND WHAT DOES HE WANT FROM ESKEL ;-; there is no bestiary entry for bards and most of his experiences with humans has been transactional at best

Another thought i had is... the moment Jask realizes he has Eskel's full trust is when he's washing his hair? when eskel leans back into his touch, fully exposing his neck, simply knowing that Jask would never hurt him.

Or maybe when he stops trying to hide is scars under a cloak hood, when he stops hiding his smiles and making sure that Jaskier is always along his 'good' side? And the bath thing just reinforces it, really drives it home for Jaskier and made him have a true aha moment

Once they're a couple the could slowly discover each other's likes and dislikes, kinks ect. maybe also discover sth they never thought they'd be into before. and regarding your fic here... what if Eskel was never aware that he'd like being a (gentle) dom from time to time? I imagine that first time they tried this like this:

J: you ok? E: "yes..?" "did you like what we just played?" " I...dunno?" "do you want to try it again sometime?" "yes"...

sth like that?? XDDDD sry im so bad with writing LOL

And what if Jask discovers that he likes to sub? he's a bard, he's entertaining masses, dominating them with his music and stories... and this could be a nice change for him?

But they both have that special trust in each other to simply explore without ever feeling awkward or ashamed when there's sth they don't like. Or would totally safeword if there's anything that's an absolute no-go, or when sth doesn't work out.

they *know* that their partner wouldn't make fun of them. they just want to do the things that makes the other one happy.

Eskel's also learning that he can "take things"/ want things for himself. He learns to be greedy which he never dared before bc it's selfish, and in some way showing vulnerablilities? But he trusts Jask enough to know that he loves doing those things with/for Eskel. No matter if it's their daily life or in bed. Ohhh and also... i think they both need to learn how to accpet real praise? I imagine Eskel being the kind to politely refuse praise or to turn away and snorting when he hears nice words. it's completely new to him to be called "beautiful"... As for Jask, he hears praise all the time but it's from ppl he doesn't really care about (that sounds harsh but eh). so they learn that this praise is not a lie or a shallow side-comment.

Yessss, all of this!!!! You know the meme with Geralt in the bath and Jaskier just complimenting him until he's looking like he'll fling himself out of the water and hide "I think I need my safeword"

anyway...wow this is a lot, and look.... you gave me so many plot bunnies to handle too xD (im not even done with my notes but lkfjldgj) i cant stop thinking about them since the moment i got up xD fuck! xDDD

i have no idea if this is simply... yeah... well this absolutely IS rambling about them. sry if i missed any point in your reply you needed an answer to. D: I just want them to be happy and to grow together in any possible way reagarding their friendship, trust and as lovers.

I'm sure they'd have plenty of ruined sex/orgasms bc they were "testing" sth new and it didn't work out but instead of being ashamed they can just laugh it off and go back to the things they like.

Jaskier's always been expected to be super smooth and suave and romantic, and Eskel's the first person he can laugh with and not take everything so seriously?? And big scary Witcher man can actually take his time and figure out sex where his partner isn't practically pushing him out of bed and out the door?? He gets kisses???

ok fuck, i have to stop here or it's getting out of hand (already has) XD im sorry for clogging your comment section 🙈😂 whoops.

Hmu on tumblr or twt or if you have discord??? lemme know?? 🥺

I really need to distract myself now. No Jask, no Eskel. *bonk* uhg.

Dude you're in good company, I could use a bonk too 😂😂😂

[killing-all-joy]

“Can we stay like this forever?” but angst (analogical, Virgil says this while they're cuddling but when he falls asleep Logan leaves to go do something that might kill him)

virgil is bi in this, fyi. sorry if i wrote this in a way you Did Not Want Me To

cw: homophobia, death threats, guns, violence, injury, graphic murder (no major character death don’t worry), swearing

Logan felt Virgil’s head fall onto his chest. They had been watching a movie together, but it had finished long ago and now they were just cuddling on the sofa.

Logan put an arm around his boyfriend. Virgil made a noise of contentment. His eyes were closed but he still managed to direct a blissful smile up at Logan. Logan looked at him with admiration and love, hand moving to caress Virgil’s cheek and brush his hair out of his eyes. Virgil hummed happily at this, nuzzling into Logan’s touch. He took Logan’s free hand in his.

“Can we stay like this forever?” asked Virgil, running his thumb over Logan’s knuckles.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil replied, moving his head a bit so he could kiss Logan’s hand. “I love you so much, and you’re so comfy.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Virgil hummed. “I love you more.”

“Falsehood.”

Virgil giggled. Logan thought it was the most adorable and beautiful sound; he only wished he got to hear it more. Usually Virgil was much more composed and displayed a negative attitude. Right now, though, he was tired and with his boyfriend—two things that lessened his need to have a filter on his words.

“You gonna stay with me, L?” asked Virgil.

Logan hummed.

He didn’t want to verbally confirm and end up lying to his boyfriend, but he also wanted to keep Virgil happy. A noise like a monotonous hum could make Virgil think Logan meant ‘yes’ when he actually didn’t mean that at all.

Logan continued to run his fingers through Virgil’s purple hair. It was soft and beautiful and Logan’s favorite hair in the world since Virgil was his favorite everything. Favorite person, favorite boy, his eyes were Logan’s favorite pair of eyes, he sometimes wore Logan’s favorite smile, etc. Logan constantly thought about how lucky he was to have Virgil.

After ten minutes of silence, Virgil fell asleep. This didn’t surprise Logan; Virgil hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep the night before. Him napping was good.

Logan stayed still for about thirty minutes after Virgil had fallen asleep, wanting to make sure he had entered a deeper sleep before Logan moved. When that had happened, Logan slowly untangled himself from Virgil and moved off the sofa, trying to be as undisturbing as possible. Logan stacked a couple pillows to replace himself so Virgil wouldn’t notice he was gone. He then tiptoed to his room, took a gun from the dresser, and then tiptoed to the door where he took the keys off the keyring and exited the apartment.

He quickly made his way to his car. He drove off and into the downtown area of the city. Parking in the parking lot of a small park, he rechecked his pockets to make sure he had the gun before exiting his car. He locked it, and then started walking to a nearby alley.

Logan wasn’t here for no reason, and that reason was correlated with why Virgil hadn’t slept well the previous night.

At around 4 a.m., Virgil had been awaken by a threatening text from an ex-girlfriend. She didn’t know Virgil was bisexual when they dated. She had learned yesterday, was very disgusted, and threatened to kill Virgil (perhaps worse) for not telling her that she was dating someone who was also into guys. She demonstrated that she had the means to and would strike when least expected. Logan had come over to Virgil’s house at eleven in the morning when Virgil didn’t show for their breakfast date, and Virgil, sleep-deprived and terrified, told Logan everything.

Logan was scared. This ex-girlfriend could clearly kill Virgil—and would, if she got her way. So, Logan had texted her, pretending to be someone with money to give her. They were to meet in this alleyway at 10 p.m.

It was precisely that time now (this was a rare instance where Logan didn’t want to be early), so Logan quickened his pace. He kept the hand on the pocket containing the gun.

He entered the alleyway. It was dimly lit by a streetlight, so he could faintly see the back of a person ahead. He figured it was Virgil’s ex. She had long, fairly straight blonde hair which was clearly dyed, and was wearing a brown leather jacket and light blue jeans. Her boots were dark brown and worn.

When Logan had reached the distance he wanted to be from the woman, he drew his gun. It was clear she heard him, because she started to pivot on her heels to face Logan.

“I don’t see a briefcase,” she called, taking a couple of stalking steps towards him.

“I do not have one with me presently.”

“Where is my money?”

Logan didn’t answer that question. He took a few steps forward of his own. “I did not bring money to this rendezvous.”

Her hand started to drift towards her pocket.

“You will leave Virgil Storm alone forevermore.”

She laughed. “You’re what? His boyfriend? Come to protect him? I bet you’ve never held a gun in your life.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, though, as any information could give her the upper-hand. He pointed the gun at her head.

“You will not kill Virgil Storm,” he growled, knuckles going white on the gun.

She laughed again. “No.”

“I do not want to use force.”

She took another step towards him, feigning curiosity while still keeping the conceited confidence that gave her the dominating air in the conversation.

“If you don’t want to use force,” she said, running her tongue across her upper lip, “then why do you have a gun?”

“I will use force if necessary.”

She pouted. “But it’s not necessary. You could leave without any harm done to you, and-”

“You will kill Virgil.”

She nodded in consideration. “Yes, I will. But, still. You don’t have to use force. You could just as well let nature run its course.”

“I will not allow you to kill him.”

“You, someone clearly well-read and with a profitable career ahead of him, probably in science, are going to throw away everything you have for your boyfriend? When you have obviously never even come close to committing murder ever before?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he cocked his gun.

“If you promise you will not kill Virgil, I will spare you,” Logan threatened, gritting his teeth.

“Alright, you want to play dirty,” she conceded with a sigh.

Within the second, the gun in her hands was cocked, aimed, and had her hand on the trigger.

Logan fired.

Her eyes widened and her movements stopped, her firing arm slackening. She obviously didn’t think Logan was capable of murder. The bullet soared through the air and landed in her forehead.

Logan watched as her body fell backward. Her head hit the asphalt with a crack of what was likely the breaking of bones in the skull. Logan switched on the safety to his gun and slowly put it down, satisfied.

“LOGAN!” he heard a voice shriek, followed by dashing footsteps.

The voice was loud, terrified, and definitely spoken by someone who was currently crying.

“LOGAN!” There it was again, accompanied by the running footsteps that were getting progressively louder.

Logan frowned. Who could that be? He hadn’t told anyone what he would be doing.

Logan watched the figure round the corner and enter the alleyway. Logan’s eyes widened as he realized that it was Virgil.

Nevermind that Virgil was supposed to be asleep, how did he know he was here?

“LOGAN! Oh god, Logan!” Virgil shouted, running over to him. He stopped three feet in front of Logan.

“Why are you awake?” asked Logan curiously. “And how did you know I was here?”

“The neighbors were loud and you got a text that worried me so I checked it out,” said Virgil dismissively. “What happened?”

His last sentence was frantic, worried.

“Are you bleeding? Do I need to call 911? I heard a gunshot and I got terrified,” Virgil rambled. “Obviously someone fired a gun here and I was so scared they killed you, L, so goddamn scared...what the hell is wrong with you, going to a dark alleyway at night? I thought you said you’d stay.”

“I did not say I would stay, I merely made a noise acknowledging that I had heard your request,” Logan corrected.

Virgil glared at him. “Those were the less important of my questions.”

Logan sighed. “I am unharmed, Virgil. You do not need to call 911.” Logan glanced behind him. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Virgil looked confused. “Then what happened? Did they miss you? Why aren’t you in shock? Where are they?”

Logan took a step to the side and gestured behind him. “No one missed a shot.”

Virgil’s bewilderment did not cease. “I see a dead woman. Who killed her? Were you tending to her?”

“Take a closer look, my love.”

Virgil would have blushed at the pet name if it wasn’t such a dire situation. Virgil took a few cautious steps towards the corpse. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh...oh my god, it’s her,” said Virgil, no longer confused. “Who killed her?”

Virgil turned around to face Logan in time for him to hold up the gun. Virgil’s eyes widened. Logan was scared that it was in fear.

“You...you killed her,” whispered Virgil.

“I did not want to,” said Logan matter-of-factly. “Truly, I didn’t. However, she was aiming to kill me and I had no choice.”

“For me.” Virgil still seemed to be in shock by the news.

Logan blinked. He looked down at the gun thoughtfully. “Yes. She demonstrated the means and the desire to kill you. I confronted her. She tried to kill me and stated that she would kill you in the future. I killed her instead. Simple.”

Virgil shook his head. “You killed someone, risked so much...for me?”

Logan bit his lip, but nodded. There was a moment of silence.

“You idiot!” Virgil suddenly shouted. “You absolute moron! Why would you do that? I told you not to do anything about it, that I would be okay. We could have called the police! But no, you went out here and almost got yourself killed!”

“We fucking hate the police, Virgil!” Logan replied, not matching his boyfriend’s volume but still raising his voice. “Besides, she could have struck at any time! I was unwilling to take any chances! Not when your safety is concerned!”

“I am not worth you risking your life for!”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Logan shot back. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m sorry for yelling. But what’s done is done. She is dead by my hand. You are no longer in danger.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You are much less bothered by that than you should be.”

“About murder?” asked Logan coolly. “You mistake my impressive education for having prosperity in my youth. I grew up in the most dangerous and criminal neighborhood in the city. I have certainly fired a gun before, and I have witnessed murder more times than that.”

“Have you killed before?”

Logan shrugged. He didn’t answer. “Let’s go home.”

“You haven’t.”

“There is always a worthy situation. Protecting your life will forever be one of them.”

Virgil was silent, looking as though he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking down to his shoes. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, my darling,” replied Logan, putting his arm around Virgil. Virgil blushed at the term of endearment, leaning into his boyfriend’s side. “Now we can stay in each other’s arms without any external interruptions.”

Virgil smiled. “Logan?”

“Yes, V?”

“The authorities have wanted her dead for a couple of years now for a variety of murders. I don’t figure they will investigate someone who finally took her down.”

Logan grinned. “Thank you, Virgil. I was worried about that.”

They walked back to Logan’s car.

“I can’t wait till we get home and I can cuddle the shit out of you,” Virgil said excitedly as he put on his seatbelt.

“Nor can I.”

~

Taglist (I forgot it for my last one, sorry!): @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

I know I kind of strayed from the prompt (did I?) so I’m sorry for that. It’s not as angsty as you probably wanted it to be, Lila, but at least there was a happy ending (right?). I hope you liked it!

[blissfulsun]

Hello lovelies!! This one is not a request, I wrote it last night, too sleep deprived and hangry cause fasting. It’s probably my closest attempt at angst so far & it’s like 1.2K words lol, let me know what u think and enjoy angels!!💓🦋

word count: 1,245

Will they, won’t they // Jeff Wittek

You are trying to make sense of Nat's drunk giggles and the rambling story of another stunt Todd recently pulled in his attempts to win her over when the two of you are interrupted in your little bubble by David.

'Y/n I think Jeff is looking for you' his eyes sending a pointed message to his assistant as you remain oblivious to their scheming.

Your brow involuntarily furrows, 'oh..-' Natalie interrupts your train of thought, 'He was heading outside to the garden last time I saw him.' Her hands already on your shoulders, pushing in that general direction.

Everyone is acting weird, you think to yourself. Well, weirder than normal.

Outside there are only few people milling about, tonight a more intimate setting with just the selected few other than the squad itself. Which is exactly why you happen to find Jeff in your eye line all too quickly.

Except he doesn't appear to be looking for you, judging by how busy he looks with his mouth attached to that of a petite blonde.

You don't stop and try to figure out who it might be or if you know the girl at all. 

The next steps taken are calculated, each action planned yet robotic as you step back inside and head for Nat's room to grab your stuff and go.

That's how David finds you, hands diligently checking coat pockets for car keys and phone, 'Y/n! Did you find the man of the hour?' he doesn't seem to catch onto your dampened mood fast enough.

‘I did. It was...unnecessary and painful for me so thanks, I'm going to head out now' you ignore the stuttering confusion of your friend, waving off both the boy and the camera in his hand as you pass by.

'What?! Why?' he follows in your footsteps, more puzzled than ever at your dishevled state. 'I'm just tired Dave, it's been a long day and work is kind of kicking my ass. I'll see you tomorrow yeah?' the declaration is followed by a quick hug around his shoulders and then you're gone.

Jeff's eventful night is interrupted by Natalie, who strides up to him in her tipsy state. Anger evident in her expression, 'What did you do?' he's momentarily stumped.

'We gave you the perfect opportunity with Y/n tonight. Relaxed setting, only your guys' mutual friends around. She looked really fucking good in that new skirt Corinna forced her into-'

Jeff interrupts her rambling. 'What is going on?' frustration is evident on the girl's face, for a second, he thinks she might lunge at him. 

‘Everyone is sick and tired of this will they, won't they the two of you have going on. Dancing around your feelings at your big age Jeff, seriously? We...Dave thought you might do something about it tonight after you practically sabotaged her date last week.'

He's flustered at the accusation, or rather, the truth behind it. He may have pretended to have lost his keys within minutes of Y/n leaving for her date while he took Nerf on a walk.

The girl with a heart far too big for her chest and obvious weakness for his dog abandoning previous plans in order to pick them up in her car to spend the night.

'I...' he begins with a stutter, shoulders falling in defeat. 'I messed up Nat.' she only snorts. 'You think? She's gone home by the way' Natalie continues at the sight of his expression, 'ran out of here making up some lies about being tired or something, probably just getting there as we speak-'

Jeff is tapping her on the shoulder and is out the door by the time the brunette is done with her explanation. 'Go get her baby!!'' Scott is the last of his friends to get some words of encouragement in as the door slams behind him.

Jeff doesn't want to know how many laws he just broke on his way over, his driving borderline dangerous on just a regular day.

All that matters is that he's at her door, knocking a little erratic as he waits.

For a fleeting moment, he remembers the other girl who offered to take his mind off the one who's on the other side of this very wall, his mind in a war with itself over his thoughtless agreement in the spur of the moment.  

You weren't sure who you had expected at the door when the knocking snapped you out of the pity party that's been happening since the moment you got in your car back at David's, but Jeff wasn't at the top of that speculative list.

Your brows furrow, 'Jeff? wha-' he had to interrupt, 'can I stay the night?' his request stumping the both of you.

He wasn't sure why that happened to be the first sentence out his mouth, but in his defence, his thoughts were scrambled, those five words the most coherent and quickest to form within the short while of staring at your bare face illuminated by the hallway lighting.

The sigh of defeat which leaves your mouth makes him perk up embarrassingly fast. He resembles a puppy in that moment, you think, scolding yourself for the soft assessment when you're trying to stay mad at him.

Then you remember, it's not your place. Jeff hadn't done anything wrong, I mean, you agreed to a date with the first guy to continuously bug you about it just the other night.

By the time that train of thought it completed, you're already in your bedroom, Jeff following silently behind.

You watch him strip off his shirt and grab a pair of more comfortable bottoms he's left here during one of your endless sleepovers. It's still quiet when he slips underneath the cover on his self-proclaimed side of the bed.

The air is charged as you roll onto your side and try to fall asleep, avoidance your preferred method for tonight.

It's probably half the reason you're in this mess, you muse to yourself: you avoid your feelings as they rattle in your rib cage and bruise the soft tissue, always ignoring any possible signs of your emotions being reciprocated.

God forbid you'd look Jeff in the eye right now, even though the man is literally shirtless & sprawled out in your bed, hands hesitantly gripping at your hips to bring you into his arms for the night.

Jeff, on the other hand, is tired of avoiding ,he decides. 'Angel?' your humm is the only acknowledgement heard in the dark of the covers.

'Can I....can I stay the night tomorrow-' he confuses you like no one ever before and so you interrupt 'what?'.

He continues, 'And the day after that...& whatever day of the week it's going to be after that too.' He's determined, Natalie's earlier words vivid in his mind.

Jeff moves to hover his face over yours comfortably sank in the pillows. 'What are you saying?' the words are shaky leaving your lips.

'That I'll stay. If you will have me' You only hesitate for a split second, head of blonde hair flashing before your eyes before Jeff is all that you see again.

Tunnel vision dictates your movement aimed to diminish whatever space is left between you and the person who's been haunting your dreams, asleep and awake in daydreams for the last year.

‘Okay, stay...' it's a whisper of two simple words but it feels like a promise between you. Jeff plans to keep it.

[mrs-hatake]

train station shenanigans (1)

A/N: Helloooooo everyone!

As promised, here’s the first chapter/intro of the aizawa x reader fic based on my work life! This is 90% Self Indulgent so just a heads up!

Anyways, enjoy! :D

Ps, not proof read!

Se no!

Demo sonnan ja dame mou sonnan ja hora.

You groaned in protest at the sound of your alarm that blared under your pillow. With your eyes still closed, you slid your hand under your pillow and fished out your phone to quickly tap the stop function. The white numbers of the clock read half past seven in the morning. You let out a whine and cursed the day you applied for a job.

Once you had convinced yourself to stay awake and ignore the sweet calls of slumber, you unlocked your phone and checked your notifications. After spending about fifteen minutes on twitter, you chucked your phone behind on your bed and pushed yourself upwards. You yawned loudly as you stretched your limbs. Lazily, you exited your bedroom and slowly went down the stairs so as to not awaken your mother and baby brother.

Today was your first day back to work after the mandatory lockdown due to the spread of the new virus. Having a break from work was wonderful as you were able to spend more time with your family. It sucked that everything was closed and you weren’t going to lie, it was stressful seeing the death tolls on the news, but you had fun at home. And now that things had finally calmed down in Japan, it was time to return to work.

Despite your whines from earlier, you were honestly looking forward to work. It was fun being at home, especially when you had so much free time to binge watch all of your favorite shows, but that could be entertaining for so long before it lost its charm.

With a soft hum of some random song, you worked on making yourself breakfast. Nothing too fancy, just some frozen waffles that you shoved down the toaster and then later drizzled caramel on top. You moaned at the fluffy texture in your mouth, and briefly, you were reminded of your days in school. When it was the first day and your mother would be up early and making breakfast for you. You missed those days. Life was much simpler back then. You wondered if your baby brother missed the lively atmosphere while getting for school or not. When you swallowed the last piece of waffle, you washed the dish and utensils that you’ve used before heading back upstairs to shower and get ready for work.

You decided to wear a simple yellow sundress for work. The best thing about the company you worked in wasn't being strict with the clothes you wore. As long as they were modest and family friendly, they found no reason to implement a strict dress code. Your senior coworkers decided to stick with the traditional attire of dark colored business suits. As much as you loved black, you didn’t want to wear the dark color every single day.

After you finished dressing up, you applied light mascara and let your dark green, almost black, curly locks gently rest on your shoulders. Spraying some lavender scented perfume, you texted your mother that you were off to work. But not before you snuck into your brother’s room, brushed back his dark green curls and pecked his forehead.

It was strange seeing the normally crowded streets of Musutafu be so desolate. The vast streets that were once filled with cars, almost resembling a parade with its colors and soft purrs of the motors, only had four or five cars on each lane. It was almost unnerving how quiet the streets of Musutafu were. But no matter, at least now you didn’t have to worry about traffic. Sure, you took the bus to work, though it was still frustrating to be trapped in the middle of traffic while freaking out over being on work on time. Not that you ever had been late. You always managed to show up at least twenty minutes earlier than the intended time.

The smell of bleach and lemon wafted through your nose once you stepped foot into the modestly sized train station. Just like the streets of Musutafu, the train station was just as desolate. The buzz of passengers sizzled out to soft mummers. The sea of people shrunk to a puddle. And the cheery atmosphere became somber. It was depressing. Though that didn’t deter you. With your head held high, you went straight to your office that you would normally share with five other people. Due to the new government rule, however, employees who weren’t supervisors, managers or ceos will take shifts and return to work every other day. Meaning you only had to work with three other people today.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Was the first thing that greeted your ears when you opened your office door.

Your boss was...unorthodox. He had long wavy hair that he would put up in a messy bun. Grey circles could be seen under his eyes and a soft stubble peppered his chin and upper lip. If you could describe your boss, then you would use the adjectives: grumpy and sleep deprived.

“Good morning, Aizawa-san.” You replied with a smile. Though, at the remembrance of wearing a mask that was way too big for you and covered most of your face, you dropped the smile. Aizawa said nothing, only nodded his head and continued to type away on his computer.

As you sanitize your workstation and logged into your computer, your supervisor Yamada Hizashi, walked in and bellowed “Gooooooood morning my little ducklings!” You heard Aizawa groan under his breath and tried not to chuckle at his misery.

Aizawa and Yamada were childhood friends and coworkers. It baffled you at first when Nemuri, your co-supervisor, had mentioned it in passing. The two were extremely different. While Yamada was the bright sun on a summer’s day that humans longed for after a long and miserable winter, Aizawa was the moon that people sung praises to with his mysterious aura and charming personality. After working with them for a month, however, you could see how the two were best friends. They balanced each other out perfectly and would always bring out the best side of the other person.

“Must you be so loud so early in the morning.” It wasn’t meant to be a question but Yamada answered anyway.

“Yes, I must bless everyone with my beautiful voice.”

If he wasn’t in a work environment, you were certain that Aizawa would have smacked his head on his desk to end his misery.

A peaceful silence settled upon you and you awkwardly shifted in your seat. Neither Aizawa nor Yamada had instructed you with anything to do and you were starting to feel antsy. Just as you were about to excuse yourself to walk around the station, maybe get some fresh air, Aizawa cleared his throat and called your name. You sat up straighter in your chair and locked your eyes with his.

“Write a letter to the Council of Train Stations to approve the extension of payment fees deadline.” Instructed Aizawa before returning to face his computer.

Blinking twice, You wrote down what he said in your notebook and began working on the letter.

You worked in the administrative department of the train station. The company you worked with, All Might Train Station Management, was infamous in maintaining and developing the station. From managing stores, adding holiday decorations to conducting safety measures and promoting the best image of the station, those were among the many things that you will deal with for the next eight months.

Once you have submitted your letter, you inform Aizawa. Who just hummed at you in return, too absorbed in his own work.

This went on for two hours. Aizawa would ask you to write a letter, you wrote it down on your note and then typed it on your computer and submitted it. Sometimes, you would have to contact other employees from other departments to forward you files that you had to attach to your letters. It was stressful, but not unmanageable.

It was around twelve in the afternoon when Aizawa excused himself to meet with the president of the company, Toshinori Yagi. Shortly afterwards, Yamada also left the office to God knows where. A habit of his that you envied but would never actually do. Yamada had been working two years at the company so he had the privilege to take a break from work and wander around. Maybe someday you could do it too, but for now, You’re stuck in your office.

Noticing that none of them were returning any time soon, You took your wallet and made your way to the mini market for a cold beverage and some snacks. You didn’t want to eat lunch at work - not that you can anyways since the staff room was under maintenance - but you were starting to get hungry and you couldn’t work to the best of your potential with an empty stomach.

When you returned to your office, you spotted Aizawa back at his desk. Yamada was nowhere in sight. Quietly, so as to not disrupt your workaholic of a boss, you sat down on your chair and opened your bag of chocolate animal crackers and stabbed the straw into your mango juice box.

��You look like you’re in elementary school.”

Your head shot upwards at Aizawa’s comment and could feel your cheeks flushing with warmth and you were positive that they had turned a bright red color.

“Would you like some?” You blurted and instantly winced. It was no secret that you were an awkward person by nature and tended to blurt things out or ramble on when nervous. You tried improving that aspect of yourself at work, not wanting to embarrass yourself at work like you did in college. You wanted to be professional and taken seriously. But it was proving to be a challenge.

Aizawa appeared to be contemplating your offer, half distracted by whatever it was displayed in front of him on his computer. “Sure, why not.” He eventually replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Your heart beat in anticipation as you stood up and crossed the short distance between your desk and his. Your hand held out the yellow bag of animal shaped chocolate crackers and watched as Aizawa dipped his hand and fish out two crackers; a panda and an elephant. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Your reply was soft, almost a squeak. Aizawa just hummed in response and returned to type away at his keyboard. You briefly toyed with the idea of being as busy Aizawa, to the point of being unaware of your surroundings.

The rest of the day went uneventful. Aizawa didn’t ask you to write any letters and Yamada didn’t return to the office until half an hour before work ended. The loud blonde asked Aizawa if he wanted to join him for lunch later and you held your breath at what your boss was going to reply, the thought of him living a normal life outside of these four walls was almost unimaginable. “Yeah, sure.” Ah, to see Aizawa in a casual setting, a privilege that you have to work very hard for.

When it was two in the afternoon, you turned off your computer, signed your name on the attendance sheet and bid farewell to your colleagues.

“Goodbye, my little duckling!” You heard Yamada say behind you while Aizawa grunted a quiet ‘bye’.