#i'm trying to shift into writing mode

[quietlyblooms-gone]

i really wanna leave it open as to why chiyo gets murdered in her modern fantasy verse, but the gears are also turning bc what if!! i kinda merge some of dorverold's lore with her verse!! and eyda, this old deity of death and the end, is back at it with his world-ending plans. i'm sort of imagining this as either post-dorverold and lightwielder storyline ( if you're confused, you can go here for a synopsis of what i'm talking about ) or an alternate universe altogether. the latter might be the better option to avoid getting into certain details, like the fact dorverold isn't supposed to be earth as we know it -- the countries and whatnot are different as are the cultures. a modern dorverold would look vastly different from our own modern society.

but i'm getting caught up in the details asdfg my point is!! if chiyo's visions of the future/past/present manifest in her art prior to her murder, it's entirely possible that an agent of eyda saw the art displayed in her shop and realized she was portraying eyda/their plans/etc. they likely watched her for some time before determining that she indeed might pose a threat if anyone else realized what her paintings meant, and when the time was right, they killed her.

of course, naoki then finds her and brings her back, ruining their plans and leading to chiyo becoming aware of her visions. and while eyda is a god that is supposed to be mostly forgotten, cyrillo would know who he is in this plot. he's a very old vampire with a lot of collected knowledge, tomes, etc., all of which he'd gladly share with chiyo bc they've always had a good relationship. and i dunno where we'd go from there but!!! wouldn't that be fun!!! if you don't have your own big bad that would want chiyo out of the picture, we got an old vengeful deity and his followers who we could bring into the picture!!

[thiefcant]

i am off work and having a not great brain day!!! but hello!!!!

[houseofaegon]

Don't Let Go ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. rough sex, emotional sex, public sex, mental health themes (trauma, guilt, PTSD), depictions of breakdowns, emotional, angst, praise kink, possessiveness, aftermath of violence, unprotected p in v, guilt, self-loathing, established trauma bond.

Summary: The mission was supposed to be clean. Routine. But nothing is simple when the Sentry is involved, when Bob loses control, and the Void takes over. And when he does, you're the only one who can pull him back.

Word Count: 4658

Author's Note: don't even ask me if I'm okay cause the answer is no. I'm destroyed. completely destroyed and emotionally wrecked. i am ruined. bob reynolds ruins me. if you finished this and also felt like your heart's been pulled out and kissed back to life, welcome to the club. my inbox is open if you want to send me your therapy bill—just know I’m probably gonna have to come with you cause what the fuck. i love you bobby you're everything to me!!! if you want to be added to my taglist just comment below!! <333 feel free to cry with me in the comments and scream in the reblogs. i need to go outside and touch some grass, reconnect with nature and breathe cause my heart is destroyed after this one. i literally can't stop writing for bob what the hell!! bucky is jealous cause bob's taking up space in my mind that used to belong to bucky. lewis pullman you babygirlllllllllllll

masterlist.

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The mission was supposed to be simple. In and out. Detain the targets, secure the entire facility, and minimize civilian casualties. Standard Thunderbolts cleanup. You'd done this dance before—storm in, assert dominance, extract data and bodies. Easy.

But you knew the moment Bucky said, "Bob's on this one," everything in your chest went cold.

The tower was quiet, too quiet, until it wasn't. Until the entire place was filled with hurried footsteps, shouts bouncing off the walls, and orders being thrown like grenades, gear bags being slammed open, weapons loaded with sharp clicks, and comms lighting up with rapid-fire intel. The whole floor shifted into emergency mode.

You'd barely finished gearing up when Yelena grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the elevator, her expression tight, mouth set in that grim, no-bullshit line that only ever meant bad news.

"Valentina wants all of us on-site," she muttered, pressing the call button with enough force to crack the panel. "Right now. Facility breach. Something about biotech. Hostages."

"Since when do we scramble before briefing?" you asked, yanking the zipper of your new tactical suit closed, holster strap still half-loose dangling on your hip. "Do we even have a plan?"

Yelena didn't answer. She didn't have to.

When the elevator doors opened, Bucky was already inside, pacing back and forth. His jaw clenched, comms piece buzzing with chatter. He looked up when he saw you—but he didn’t smile. Didn’t nod.

Jeez, so much for a good morning.

"Let me guess," you said, stepping into the elevator next to him. "Valentina's stunt?"

"She pulled Bob in last minute," Bucky said, his voice laced with frustration. "Didn't even care to fucking tell me. I found out when I saw his name on the team feed. Walker's there with him, Ava too."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you froze. "She put him first? With Walker?"

“She wants to see if he's still 'field-capable.'" Bucky's voice dripped sarcasm. "Her exact words. She thinks this is some kind of game. Like we're testing out a new drone, not a man who nearly blacked out half of a city six months ago."

“Is she out of her fucking mind?” you hissed. “Bob’s not—he’s not ready. He shouldn't be anywhere near this.”

“No shit,” Yelena muttered from the other side, crossing her arms. “And we’re the ones who’ll have to clean up if he loses it again.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to damp down the rolling anger in your chest. Not at Bob—of course not, this wasn't his fault. You were mad at Valentina and her fucking need to push him to the edge. "Great," you muttered, rubbing your face with a hand. "Let's all just hold hands and pray he doesn't crack."

The VTOL sliced through the clouds like a blade, engines humming low and tense. Rain battered the sides in sharp bursts.

You sat strapped between Yelena and Alexei, your harness tight across your chest, heart beating even tighter beneath it. Across from you, Bucky was locked in, jaw clenched, staring out the side window with a look that could shatter the glass any moment. When he finally looked away from the window, he fixed his gaze directly on you.

"I need you to be ready," he said, voice low and rasped. "In case Void—" He paused, breathing raggedly. "In case Bob snaps."

You blinked. "Bucky—"

"If it happens," he cut you off, "if he breaks... don't wait for an order. Do not hesitate. You hit him with everything you've got."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Because you hesitated.

Not because you didn't understand the danger. Not because you didn't know what Bob was capable of when the Void took hold. You'd seen it. Firsthand. The devastation. The aftermath. The look in his eyes—those dark, endless eyes—when he realized what he’d done.

But you'd also seen something else. You'd also seen the other side of him. The guilt

You'd been there the last time. When the Void clawed its way up his throat like poison, he dropped to his knees, shaking, burning with power, guilt, and fear. You were the only one who could get through to him. The only one who could touch him without him recoiling like he might shatter.

You'd whispered his name and watched his fist unclench slowly. You'd put your hand on his chest and feel his heartbeat slow. You'd seen how the black storm slowly evaporated, leaving a broken man sobbing against your chest.

That night was the worst for Bob.

You remember it vividly—his body trembling against yours, eyes wide and hollow after the Void had finally disappeared. He hadn't said a word. Just sank to the ground, hands fisting in his hair, like he was trying to hold his skull together.

You’d dropped down beside him, pulled him close, felt the heat radiating off his skin like a fever breaking. And when he finally clung to you—arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder—it wasn’t just desperation. It was terror. Like if he let go, he’d fall into some pit that never ended.

He cried.

God, he cried so hard.

And you didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to soothe it away. You just held him. Let him shake. Let him break.

That night, you stayed with him.

He pulled you into bed like he didn’t even realize he was doing it—just moved toward your body like it was instinct, like your presence was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. His fingers curled in your shirt, his face buried in your chest, breath hiccuping between exhausted sobs.

You thought he’d fall asleep eventually.

He didn’t. Not right away.

He kept whispering, voice barely audible: “Don’t leave. Please. Just… don’t leave.”

And how could you?

You didn’t.

So you stayed.

And when he finally passed out—curled around you like a second skin, little soft snores slipping past parted lips—you just watched him. His face was peaceful for once. Almost boyish. His lashes fluttered when he dreamed, but he didn’t cry out. Not with you there.

You tried to slip out once.

Just to stretch. To breathe. But the second your body shifted away, his arms tightened like a vice, dragging you back in, even in his sleep. Like his subconscious couldn’t bear the thought of you disappearing.

From that night on, it became… a thing.

Every time he had a nightmare. Every time the Void started to whisper again. Every time he needed quiet but didn’t know how to ask for it—he came to you.

He never knocked loud. Just a soft tap on your door, barely audible. You’d open it to find him standing there, shoulders hunched, hair messy, eyes big and guilty and so shy. Like he hated himself for needing you but couldn’t help it.

“Can I…?” he’d start to ask, voice barely above a whisper.

And you’d always let him in.

Always.

God, you loved it. Loved being the one person he came to. The one place he felt safe. The way he melted into you the second the door shut. The way he’d sleep tangled in your arms, legs hooked with yours like he needed as many points of contact as possible to stay grounded.

You never told anyone.

You never wanted to ruin it.

It was quiet. Sacred. Yours.

And now, strapped into this VTOL, Bucky’s words still echoing in your ears—“Don’t hesitate. Hit him with everything you’ve got”—all you could think about was how peaceful he looked in your bed. How tightly he held you. How terrified he was of being alone.

Because what if you could reach him again?

What if hitting him wasn’t the answer? What if all he needed was someone to see him before he disappeared completely?

Bucky must’ve seen the flicker in your expression, because his voice dropped lower.

“I know you’re close to him. I know he listens to you more than anyone else. But if that stops—if he doesn’t hear you this time... don’t let him take you down with him.”

He’ll hear me, you thought, jaw clenched.

He has to.

Yelena’s hand reached over, slow and steady, her fingers brushing against yours before curling around them. Her grip was warm, firm—anchoring. You turned slightly, meeting her eyes.

She gave you a small, quiet smile. The kind that didn’t promise everything would be okay, just that you wouldn’t be alone when it wasn’t.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered. "We'll be right behind you."

You squeezed her hand back, once.

"Visuals confirm contact inside the facility," the pilot’s voice crackled through the comms. "We’ve got movement near the lab sector. Hostiles engaged. Sentry’s already on-site."

You looked up sharply. "Already?"

He wasn’t supposed to engage alone.

Bucky swore under his breath, ripping the earpiece out and jamming it back in. "Why the fuck didn’t you wait for us—"

Ava spoke through the comms, her voice shivering. “He didn’t wait. I told him to stand down, and he just… went in.”

Then the ground came into view through the viewport—flames licking up from the roof of the biotech facility, smoke pluming into the sky, the perimeter in total disarray.

"Doors open in twenty seconds," the pilot called.

You shivered. You could feel it. That humming tension in your bones, the kind that only came right before everything went to hell.

He's already slipping.

"Get ready," Bucky barked, snapping his rifle into place as he stood. "Move fast, eyes sharp. We don't know how bad it is yet."

Yelena stood up, nodding once, checking her gear. You followed closely behind.

“Hostiles are still active inside,” came another voice—Walker’s, sharp and panicked over comms. “But it’s—fuck, it’s a massacre down here. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing. I can't see him. He’s not fucking responding.”

Your heart clenched.

“Bob,” you whispered, barely audible.

Then: a boom.

A section of the lower level erupted in a plume of golden-white light, fire tearing up through the concrete as the building shook from the force of it. A pulse of energy rippled outward, flattening a chunk of the south wall like paper.

The VTOL lurched slightly from the shockwave.

“Doors opening!” the pilot shouted. “Deploy, deploy—go, go!”

The ramp dropped—and the storm hit you in the face.

Rain. Smoke. Sirens. And somewhere beneath it all, a familiar hum.

You ran.

Boots pounding against the rooftop, leaping the last few feet to the access hatch. Bucky and Yelena flanked you, weapons drawn, slicing through the chaos with practiced precision.

You barely had time to adjust before Bucky grabbed your arm, spinning you toward him. His face was grim, soaked, eyes blazing.

“Go!” he shouted over the roar. “You need to find him!”

“What about—?”

“We’ll handle the rest!” he cut in, already moving, already aiming down the chaos below. “If anyone can reach him before he turns this whole goddamn place to ash—it’s you. Yelena will be right behind you. Walker and Ava are already inside. Go!”

Your breath hitched.

Then you nodded, once, sharp and sure.

And you ran—straight into the smoke, straight into the fire.

Straight toward him.

The inside of the facility was a warzone. Emergency lights flickered through thick smoke. Sparks rained from broken ceiling panels. The walls were scorched, the tile beneath your boots cracked and slick with blood and water. You passed fallen bodies—some hostiles, some just gone, disintegrated into scorched outlines and ash.

He’d been here.

You ran faster. Your breath became shorter. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

And then you saw him.

Floating.

Just inches off the ground, his body trembling with power barely held in check. His suit was torn, soaked, blood-slick. His hair clung to his forehead in damp curls. His hands hung at his sides, fingers curled in like claws.

He hand't noticed you yet. He was talking to himself, low and frantic, like he didn't even realize sound was coming out of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to—I tried, I tried, they didn’t listen—I told them not to run—why did they run—”

Your heart clenched. You took a breath, steady and slow. Lifted your hands, palms open, non-threatening. Stepped forward, one careful step at a time.

"Bob," you whispered.

His head jerked up like a struck animal. His eyes were pitch black. Not just his pupils. Everything. You could see the Void slowly taking over control of his entire body. Crawling across his skin in veins of shadow, threading through him like poison, claiming more and more by the second. There was nothing human in his face.

Then he saw you.

You took another step forward, heart hammering against your ribs.

"Bob," you said again, softer now.

His lips parted. The black in his eyes shimmered, like something beneath it was trying to break through, trying to remember.

You took another step.

"I'm here," you said, voice steady despite the tremble in your hands. "It's me."

"GET DOWN!" a voice screamed behind you.

You barely turned in time to see the soldier—young, shaken, finger already tightening on the trigger of his rifle, aimed straight at Bob.

“No!” you shouted, throwing a hand out. “Don’t—don’t shoot him!”

But it was too late.

You whipped back toward Bob—and his hand was already rising. Not fast. Slow. Deliberate.

Eyes locked on the soldier, face blank and unreadable, voice low and distant.

“Mine.”

“Bob!” you screamed, adrenaline tearing through your veins like lightning. You rushed toward him, arm outstretched. “STOP! STOP!”

A pulse of black energy burst from his palm. It didn’t make a sound. It didn’t explode. It just erased. The soldier was there—and then he wasn’t.

No scream. No blood. Just a curling wisp of smoke, and a blackened shadow scorched into the tile where he’d stood. Like reality itself had been scrubbed clean.

Your breath caught. Your body froze.

The soldier was gone. Just like that. And Bob? He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. Just stood there, hand still raised, void energy curling around his fingers like it wanted more.

You moved before you even realized it.

You ran.

“BOB!” you screamed, voice hoarse with panic.

You slammed into him, hands flying up to grab his face—rough, desperate, grounding. Your fingers dug into his jaw, into his cheeks, trying to feel him, shake him loose from the darkness overtaking his body.

“Bob! Look at me!” you yelled, tears already slipping down your face. “Fuck—look at me, please!"

His head twitched in your grip, eyes still black, but they widened. Like he didn’t know how you got so close. Like he didn’t even recognize his own name.

“You promised,” you choked out, forehead pressed against his. “You promised you wouldn’t let this happen again. You said I could help you. You let me in. Bob, please, I know you can hear me. Let me in. Let me help you."

And then—

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

The black void in his eyes gone, replaced by fear. Replaced by gut-wrenching guilt.

And suddenly his hands were on you—gripping your arms, trembling hard. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped, voice splintering in his throat. “I just… he—he pointed that gun at you. I—”

His knees buckled.

You caught him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped again, clinging like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady, fingers stroking through his hair, down his back. “I know, it’s okay. You’re okay—I got you. I'm right here."

You could feel it under your hands—the tension building again. The static crawling across his skin. He was shaking harder now, like he was trying to hold himself together with bare hands and sheer will, and it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“I told them,” he growled, voice rising, wild and hoarse. “I told them not to send me. I told them—I told them!”

“Bob,” you tried again, your hands cradling his face, trying to ground him. “Stop—just breathe, okay? Look at me. Just look at me. It’s over. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Bob—”

“Holy shit,” someone gasped.

You turned. Too fast. The team stood there. Yelena’s eyes were wide. Ava’s mouth hung open. Alexei looked stunned. Bucky was frozen mid-step.

And Walker? Walker’s gaze went straight to the scorched mark on the floor, and his lip curled.

“What the fuck did he do?”

That was it.

You snapped.

“You were supposed to look out for him!” you roared, your voice echoing down the hall like a whipcrack. “You knew he wasn’t ready! You knew, and you left him in there anyway—what the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Don’t yell at me because your little pet project finally snapped—”

You stepped toward him so fast Yelena actually reached out to stop you.

“Say that again, Walker.” you dared, low and deadly. “Say it. Fucking say it again.”

“Guys—” Ava started.

“Oh my god,” Yelena whispered behind you.

And that’s when you realized—Bob wasn’t in your arms anymore.

You turned, panic already in your throat. He was standing a few feet away, eyes locked on the floor, fists clenched. His shoulders were shaking, his jaw tight, like he was about to split open.

The way they were all looking at him. Like he was a monster.

And he saw it. He saw everything.

“No, no, wait—” you started.

But he was already moving. He shoved past you, not roughly—never roughly—but like he couldn’t stand to be touched anymore. Like he didn’t deserve it. And then he ran.

You didn’t hesitate.

You ran after him.

You found him down a back alley, drenched in rain, his back pressed to the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His fists were clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath. He hadn’t looked at you yet, but you could see it—how close he was to falling apart, how the power still surged beneath his skin, barely contained. His body shook with it, with guilt, with the kind of rage that didn’t know where to go.

You took a step closer and he shifted like he was going to bolt again, eyes flicking to the shadows like he could vanish into them.

You grabbed his wrist. Tight. “Don’t run.”

That stopped him. His breath hitched, but he didn’t turn.

“Bob,” you said, softer now, over the pounding rain. “Please. Look at me.”

He turned slowly—and god, the look on his face broke you wide open. Soaked, shattered, eyes full of guilt and too many unsaid things. He looked like he didn’t believe he deserved to stand in front of you. Like just being seen by you hurt.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Desperate.

Like he needed your mouth to remind him he was still real.

The kiss came out of nowhere. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation. You collided like two storms, all sharp edges and soaked skin. His mouth crushed yours, messy, uncoordinated, bruising. You dragged your hands through his rain-slick hair, pulled him closer until your bodies slammed together. He groaned your name like it hurt to say it, like it ripped something open inside him just to speak it.

You kissed him back with everything you had, dragging your fingers through his soaked curls, pulling him closer, crushing your lips to his until your teeth clacked and your breath fogged the air between you. He whimpered into it, raw and broken, hands clutching your waist through your suit like he didn’t know where to touch, like he needed to touch everywhere.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against your lips, voice already hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry—please, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—” His words cut off with a sob. You shushed him with another kiss, slower this time, lips brushing his like a promise.

“I need you,” he breathed, voice broken. “God—I need you, I need you so bad—I can’t—fuck—don’t let go—please, don’t let go—”

Your gear hit the wall behind you, water slapping between you like applause. His mouth was on your throat, biting, sucking, moaning, as your hands worked beneath his already ripped suit, shoving it aside, frantic to get to skin. His hips rocked into yours like he couldn’t stand being apart from you even for a second.

“Please,” he groaned again, breath hot against your ear. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Just—fuck—just let me have you.”

You gasped, arching against him, letting him press you tighter to the bricks. You were already soaked—skin flushed, thighs shaking—and the way he clung to you like you were the only real thing left in his world snapped something open inside you.

You grabbed his face, kissed him hard, desperate. “Take it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Take anything. Everything. I’m all yours, Bob.”

He whimpered—actually whimpered—and that was it.

Your suit came undone in ragged pieces, his hands tearing at fastenings with trembling fingers, your legs wrapping around his waist as he shoved your soaked underwear aside. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, grinding his cock against your slick center until you cried out, nails raking down his back.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so wet,” he gasped. “You want it, don’t you? You want me to lose it for you—inside you—?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, tilting your head back as he pushed in. “Yes, yes—please—”

He thrust into you in one deep, brutal stroke and you screamed, fingers clawing at his soaked suit, legs tightening around his hips. He was so deep, so hot, so real, and the way he fucked you—fast, rough, relentless—was like he didn’t know if he’d survive without this. Without you.

Every thrust hit something raw, something needy, his voice ragged against your ear. “You’re mine—you’re mine, say it—fuck, say it—”

“I’m yours,” you cried, body shaking. “I’m yours, Bob—fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

He sobbed against your throat, thrusting harder, faster, panting between curses and broken prayers. “You’re perfect—so perfect—god, you feel so good—you make everything quiet. You make it all fucking stop—”

And when you came, it hit like a shockwave—your whole body convulsing around him, mouth open in a wordless scream as he slammed into you, burying himself deep and coming hard, spilling inside you with a desperate cry of your name like it was the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He held you afterward like he might never let go, still shaking, still breathing like he’d run through hell. His forehead pressed to yours, voice wrecked.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, and this time, it was a vow.

His breathing was ragged.

Shallow gasps against your neck, chest rising and falling like he was still trying to outrun something only he could see. The rain hadn’t let up. It fell in heavy sheets around you, but neither of you moved. You stayed wrapped around him, trembling, your back against the soaked alley wall, his body still buried in yours, shaking with the aftershocks.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t even lift his head.

His arms stayed locked around your waist like a vise, like if he let go even a little, you’d disappear. You felt him swallow, once, twice—and then his shoulders began to shake in a different way.

“Bob?” you whispered, hand sliding up to the back of his head, fingers weaving through his soaked hair. “Hey. Hey, I’m here.”

He sobbed.

Quiet at first. Just a ragged breath that stuttered out of him like it had been waiting for too long. Then another. And another. His whole body trembled, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he finally—finally—let himself fall apart.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” he choked out. “I tried—I tried so fucking hard—I just wanted to be useful, I wanted to help—and I killed him—”

You shushed him softly, rocking him gently where you stood, your hands stroking down his back.

“You came back to me,” you said, voice low. “That’s all that matters. You came back.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he rasped, holding you tighter. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “You do. You do. You’re still here. You’re still you. That’s all I care about.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever—him wrapped around you like a lifeline, your bodies still locked together, breathing in sync. The heat between you slowly cooled, but the weight of it all stayed heavy, real.

Eventually, his head lifted, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks wet.

He looked at you like he didn’t believe you were real. Like maybe you were the only thing left in the world that hadn’t abandoned him.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

You cupped his face, thumb brushing over the scar just below his eye.

“I know,” you said. “But I’ve got you.”

And he leaned into your hand like a man starved for touch.

Back at the tower, everything was chaos—shouting, agents scrambling to do damage control, the team fighting with each other, trying to put the blame on someone—but none of it touched you. Not when you had him. Not when he never once let go of your hand.

You didn't go to the infirmary. Didn't sit through the debrief. Bucky tried to say something, but you just shook your head. Bob didn't even look at him. At no one.

You led him straight to your room.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, his body sagged like the air had left him entirely. You helped him out of the rest of his suit, piece by piece, your fingers gentle even when your heart still ached from the weight of it all. He did the same for you, so soft, so gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you.

You pulled him into your bed without a word.

He followed like he always did. Like he couldn’t not.

He wrapped around you the way he always did—legs tangled, arms tight around your waist, face buried against your neck. But this time it wasn’t just comfort.

It was clinging.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just held on.

You stroked his hair, tracing slow patterns into his scalp, letting your breath match his until he calmed, until that tremble in his shoulders finally stilled.

But he still didn’t sleep.

You felt him shift closer, nose brushing your collarbone. His voice, when it came, was wrecked and so, so quiet.

“Do you think they’ll ever look at me the same?” he asked, voice barely more than a breath.

You didn’t answer right away. You could feel how tightly he was holding his breath, like he was bracing for the worst. You pulled him closer, your fingers threading through the back of his hair, your lips brushing against his forehead.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered. “They know it. Even if they won’t say it out loud. This—what happened—you didn’t want this. And they know that.”

He didn’t reply, not at first. But you felt it—the way his chest stuttered, how he finally let himself breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, broken.

“I know.”

“I was so close,” he said, voice cracking like glass. “I could feel it. Like I was right there. One more second and I wouldn’t have come back.”

“But you did,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. “You came back to me.”

He shuddered, breath hitching again as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Leaving a soft kiss that made your heart clench. “You’re the only one that brings me back,” he whispered. “The only one.”

You didn’t say anything else.

You just held him tighter.

And finally—finally—he started to drift.

It wasn’t peaceful. He twitched. Mumbled things you couldn’t make out. Flinched like his dreams were still trying to drag him under.

But he didn’t wake.

Because you were still there.

And he knew it.

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug @ruexj283 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos

[plaidcowboy]

work wife

( synopsis ) — emily questions a married!reader, not knowing the very man standing behind the two of you was your husband.

( warning ) — none! a lot of people liked this on my old writing acc so i thought i’d repost it here, 3k is the most interactions ive ever had on something other than my rafe fics lol

( bot link ) — here

"You're married?" Emily blurts out in disbelief, standing beside your desk in the bullpen. Her brows shoot up as she takes a step closer, eyes locked on your left hand.

She gently grabs it, tilting it toward the light to get a better look at the ring on your finger. Her fingers hover like she's afraid to touch it. The ring, gorgeous yet very obviously expensive, shines under the office lights.

"How have I never noticed this before?" she asks, laughter spilling into her voice. She glances at your face and back to the ring, thoroughly entertained by her own obliviousness.

You give a small shrug from your chair, leaning back slightly as you glance at the ring yourself. "It's not really an oversized ring, I guess. Subtle enough to not be flashy, unless you're actively staring at my hands."

Emily snorts at that and settles down on the edge of your desk, her curiosity now fully piqued. Her eyes drift from your hand to the desk surface, scanning it for any signs of personal life.

Her smile falters slightly as she takes in the minimalistic setup. Neatly stacked files, a couple of pens, your badge, but no photos. No hints of the mysterious spouse she's only now just discovered.

"No picture of your husband anywhere?" she asks, clearly surprised.

You let out a soft laugh, fingers still tapping away at your keyboard. "Nope. I see him every single day. I don't exactly need a reminder of what he looks like while I'm working."

Emily cocks her head, pretending to be shocked, though the sparkle in her eyes gives her away. "Wow. Cold. At least tell me you have a photo of him on your phone. I want to see what this mystery man looks like." She shifts forward slightly, elbows on her knees like a kid in gossip mode, the grin on her face growing.

Before you can respond, her eyes flick over your shoulder, drawn by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She watches as Hotch makes his way down from the upper level, coffee in hand, moving with his usual composed stride. He crosses the bullpen and stops at your desk, setting a to go cup next to your keyboard.

"Did you know she’s married?" Emily grins up at him, her tone light and teasing.

Hotch doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah," he says plainly. "I proposed a couple of years ago."

He glances down at you, his expression unreadable to anyone but you, and casually adds, "They were out of hazelnut creamer, so l got you caramel."

Emily blinks and there's a pause one of those silences where time seems to stutter. Her eyes dart between you and Hotch, her brain clearly trying to process what she just heard. Then she laughs, shaking her head.

"Okay, very funny," she scoffs. "Good one, Hotch."

"I'm not joking," he says, his brow slightly furrowed as he lifts his left hand and shows her the plain gold wedding band resting comfortably on his finger.

Emily's laughter dies immediately. "Wait. What?"

"There's no way in hell she would marry you," she exclaims, half-laughing again, though the disbelief is starting to sound a little forced.

Hotch glances down at you with a look that's equal parts amused and wounded, eyebrows raised as if to say Did she really just say that? You shake your head, already laughing as you push your chair back and rise to your feet.

"Oh, you poor thing," you murmur affectionately, stepping toward him and looping your arms around his neck. You pepper kisses across his cheeks, offering exaggerated sympathy. "That was so mean!"

Hotch stands stiffly for a second, sighing as you shower him in affection. But the corners of his mouth twitch with amusement, and his hand comes to rest gently on your lower back, anchoring you to him even as he rolls his eyes.

Emily just stares, jaw hanging open slightly, her expression slowly morphing from incredulity to full on horror as the reality sets in. "Oh my God," she breathes, shooting to her feet. "I am so sorry, Hotch. I didn't know- I thought you were kidding.. You're not the kind of person who jokes like that!"

Hotch glances at her, unimpressed but not angry. He doesn't bother responding— he's far more preoccupied with your continued affection as you nuzzle his cheek again, giggling softly.

"Poor baby," you coo, hands coming up to gently squish his face between your palms as you press one last kiss to his lips.

"Don't listen to her. I'm very happy to be married to you."

Hotch hums in quiet agreement, still avoiding Emily's wide eyed stare as she blurts out a stream of apologies, her hands flying in every direction like she's trying to physically take the words back.

He finally looks from her to you, amusement flickering in his eyes. Then, with a mischievous smirk that's rare but undeniably real, he leans down and gives your backside a light, playful swat before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Put a picture of me on your desk by tomorrow," he murmurs low enough for only you to hear. "Please?"

You smile up at him, eyes warm and full of fondness as you nod. "Promise," you say softly, reaching up to kiss him once more, quick and sweet, before sitting back down at your desk, already mentally selecting which photo to frame.

[missysverse]

𝓦HAT I'VE SCRIPTED IN MY 𝓦AITING 𝓡OOM

Feel free to use for inspiration for yours - i'll try to update this post for more new ideas if anyone is interested.

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒:

✯₊˚༄ PORTAL ROOM — Each portal represents a different desired reality, with the name of the DR displayed on the arch above the portal. For example, one portal might read "Supernatural DR." When I step through a portal, I will instantly shift to the corresponding DR

✯₊˚༄ STUDY ROOM — a room where I can literally study for school relating to my CR, I have unlimited rescources available to me: textbooks, flashcards, notes all done (anything else I need I can literally just instantly manifest it), comfortable seating, big speaker I can use to play whatever music I want. I have a virtual AI tutor who can provide me detailed explanations for my subjects, orffer practice questions, mock tests, and instant feedback. I have an option to activate 'group study mode' where it will summon whatever people I want to If I want help with studying/get bored.

✯₊˚༄ THERAPY ROOM — Therapy room with Hannibal Lecter (he is not a cannibal or bad person is ANY way y'all.) He will give me good life advice, shifting advice etc anything I need help with - he knows me and my lifes well (only because I tell him about it), he also gives me good inspiration for scripting. He will also teach me a lot about neuroscience, psychiatry, psychology etc.

✯₊˚༄ LOUNGE ROOM — Here is where I can watch unlimited shows/films I want even if they don't exist in my CR e.g films I'm in from my fame DR, or completely new shows, or new seasons of my favourite shows that don't exist. There is also spotify on there and its the same concept as above - there are also playlists that are specific for my DRs and my relationships. There is also a section where I can go on that can play unlimited edits of me from my DRs, people from my DRs. All the edits are really well made and good. There are normal edits but also transition edits too. There is also a custom edit section where I can basically describe the edit and what song and it will make the edit. Not only that but I can also replay certain moments from my DR on the TV, I just have to think about the moment and then it can play or there are complimation videos of different moments from my DR. I also have unlimited games, books, vinyls.

✯₊˚༄ KITCHEN — literally where I can find unlimited food, any food I want will instantly manifest in the fridge.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒

credits to someone from reddit for some of these ideas (I'll try to find the post)

✯₊˚༄ LIFAGRAM — instagram but for shifters to access multiversally, I can share pictures and videos from my DR on here and can see other shifters. You want to share a cute picture of you and your friends to other shifters? well you can.

✯₊˚༄ SHIFTING SPACE — I have access to videos and photos from my DR and it is stored on my ‘Shifting Space’ and also just any moments from your DR, you can also share edits of your DR and yourself on here with other people

✯₊˚༄ LIFATOK — basically a less toxic version of shiftok lmao (jkJk) but the same premise as LIFAtok but its short video where people mostly share edits or moments from there DR

✯₊˚༄ LIFAFLIX — other people’s and mine DRs as tv shows, you can also watch yourself in other siutations that don’t have to be your DR but other realities that you want to be in but you don’t want to shift e.g a reality where I am spiderman(??) so there's a film based on that scenario.

✯₊˚༄ LIFAFLIX — again like the other social medias, you can share longer videos of moments from your DR

✯₊˚༄ LIFATUNES — basically like Spotify but you can share your songs from your singer DR, you can also find whatever song you want there are basically unlimited songs e.g you can change the language of songs and change lyrics or any certain features of songs you don’t like

✯₊˚༄ LIFABOOK — basically an instant journal with unlimited pages where it will insantly write out enteries of my DR experiences, the dates, everything in detail which I can read back if I want to (although I can always just replay the memories on the big screen)

Last updated : 05/12/2024

[westside-rot]

Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. just a little longer . twisted wonderland pt. 2

in which you take extra classes to skip grades so you can graduate with them, but you ended up getting sick instead. how would they react?

featuring : vice housewardens + ruggie bucchi

cw : gn!reader, may be ooc(idk how to write for jamil and rook ...), hurt/comfort angst, bad french for rook lmao

a/n : i genuinely enjoyed writing for the housewardens req, so i did a second part!! i hope u all will enjoy this :3

TREY CLOVER

almost had a heart attack

when ace and deuce came into heartslabyul with a very-sick-looking-you leaning on to their shoulders, trey was (understandably) shocked at whatever happened. he already thought of the worst-case scenario before you get to open your mouth.

though when you finally tell him what you've been up to, he immediately goes dad mode. he would take you to his bed for you to lay down and then give you some leftover food from the heartslabyul fridge. (would cook more, but he was more worried about you than the fact that those were leftovers)

"name, i understand if you want to graduate with me, and i respect that. but, just ... don't push yourself too much. if you get this sick every time you take those extra classes, then i'm gonna be the one that gets lonely once i graduate."

stays by your side until you actually fall asleep. then, he'll look at your sleeping face with eyes full of concern and love for you while also caressing your hand with his. "please don't do this ever again."

anyways he was very concerned and would 100% check on you all the time after that happened to make sure you're healthy.

RUGGIE BUCCHI

growing up in a different surroundings compared to everyone else, ruggie is not used to people being genuinely kind towards him. he was shocked enough that you accepted his confession back then, and now you're saying you were secretly taking extra classes just to graduate with him?

"huh? why go that far just for me anyway? you're not expecting me to give you something back, right?" he's confused, touched, and also concerned at the fact that you get sick right after all of those classes.

he'll constantly check on you every time and occasionally ask if you already ate or not. he would also share his lunch with you. "here, i got the limited tuna sandwich today. you can half a little of it so you don't starve to death while trying to catch up to me, shishishi!"

he gives you the bigger half. it's not usual for ruggie to be so concerned towards someone(other than leona, and even if he does, it's only for the reward that comes afterwards), let alone sharing a meal with someone else. even he was confused about why he did that.

"just so ya know, this is only because i don't want you bawling your eyes out when i graduate first. er, no, i'm not getting concerned or anythin'. you're just imagining that."

JADE LEECH

he's amused at the thought of someone so willingly taking extra classes just to graduate with him. when you walk in mostro lounge looking like you had walked out from the worst war in humanity ever in the middle of his shift, jade paused whatever he was doing.

he immediately shoves his tray full of empty plates to floyd(who, even though he was annoyed, still takes over jade's job because he understood that his brother has priorities). jade straight up carries you to his dorm room and gently places you on top of the bed.

"name, what happened?" he asks calmly, putting his cold hands on your forehead to check your temperature. after you tell him why you're doing all this, jade chuckles, but then his face suddenly turns serious it almost makes you scared.

"i understand. but i would much prefer it if you told me about such things beforehand. then, we can work on a solution together. you don't have to get sick simply because you want to spend more time with me, my dear."

all in all, he'd be very concerned and ends up acting very carefully around you so you won't feel even more stressed.

JAMIL VIPER

are u trying to get him straight into the hospital? this man is stressed enough with taking care of kalim all the time, and now you're getting sick because of all those extra classes?

jamil probably knows from day one already somehow and would quickly put a stop on it before anything happens. yet when he sees how determined you are, he can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he's never seen anyone risking their own health just because they want to stay with him.

"seriously, you don't need to do that. stop taking those extra classes before you collapse and get sent to the infirmary." he'd say sternly. but after he got you to sleep in bed and stop thinking about those classes again, he'll drop the act.

he feels guilty, so guilty for being the reason for you getting sick. he'll be so protective of you the next day and would do anything so you'll forget about whatever you want to do before.

"sigh, you and kalim are gonna be the death of me, i swear ..."

if you insist on taking those extra classes, expect to see him in your next class.

ROOK HUNT

he knows u don't really have to tell him anything

"oh, my ... marveillux! trickster, you continue to surprise me with your whims. you put your health on the line only to graduate with me? truly, your love knows no bounds! is this what people call true love? c'est magnifique! i'm touched by the very beauty of love!" as you can probably tell, he's very touched even if he knew about it days ago.

though when you start to walk a little wobbly, he'd stop his rambling and would carry you bridal style to pomefiore. he's concerned that you got sick just because you don't want him to leave you alone in this school. he'll lay you down gently on his bed and would also brew some jasmine tea for you.

"mon amour, stay in this bed and drink this tea, will you? jasmine tea has a lot of benefits that would be great to boost your immunity. i'm sure you will feel better in no time." he smiles, helping you sit up while serving you the cup of tea and a few snacks on the side.

if you drink the tea, he’ll sit by the bed, eyes brimming with a quiet, tender love. rook may talk a lot—but in the hush between heartbeats, his silence says more. in stillness, his love becomes a sacred thing, deeper than any vow he could ever utter.

"fais de beaux rêves, trickster. i shall stay here, waiting by your side."

LILIA VANROUGE

on your way to another one of your class, you were suddenly stopped by your beloved little bat, hanging upside down from the ceiling. "oh my god!" you shrieked, making him cackle. "khehehe, your reactions amuse me as always, dearie!"

he'd stop laughing when he saw all those books in your hands, though. when he notices your shaky breathing, he jumps down from the ceiling and gets scarily serious for a moment while checking your temperature.

"oh, my. your forehead is very hot. what have you been up to, love?" the moment you tell him about those extra classes, lilia goes dad mode (2) and takes you straight into his room using a teleportation spell.

he would then ask silver and sebek to brew some tea for you because he's currently too occupied to do that himself(thank god). he won't stay by your bed, he will join you in the bed and cuddle with you until you feel better.

if you tell him to get off because you don't want him to get sick too, he will just laugh. "khehehe, you must underestimate me if you think i will get sick by hugging my beloved. you need not worry, i have great immunity. but, i don't want you to continue taking those extra classes again, okay? you're going to make little old me sad if you continue doing that."

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[captain-huggy-bear]

plsplspls write something fluffy and sweet with clayton 😓😓😓 i’m so so in love with the man it’s slightly concerning

This has been sat in my drafts for so long! I'm very sorry it's taken this long, lovely because I got caught up in Celly requests!! <3 Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

God, you're freezing. It was a stupid idea really, who goes to a team bonfire in the autumn without a jacket? You'd thought that it would be fine, the sun had been shining, the temperature relatively mild for the time of year and you had a jumper on, not some flimsy t-shirt.

Oh, but boy did you miscalculate. As the sun started to set and the prolonged time outside hit you, you started to freeze. Goosebumps all over your skin, hairs standing on end as the wind tried to freeze you to the bone. You were huddled as close to the bonfire as you could get without getting told off for health and safety by Kerf who had taken it upon himself to stop Cools or Doaner catching themselves on fire. Dad mode absolutely activated.

You're trying not to make it obvious that you're freezing but Clay notices. Of course he notices...you're stood there practically shivering, nearly in the fire and you haven't even come away when they announced there were doughnuts to be had. Your sweet tooth usually drawing you away from almost anything except a cute animal, but not tonight.

Call it good luck, call it fate, call it always being prepared, call it whatever you want. But after watching you shiver for a few more minutes Clay couldn't take it anymore, walking away to his car to get the spare hoodie he keeps in the trunk.

It's black, Utah logo and name across the whole thing. A little worn now because of how often he throws it on after a workout or after a long day. He takes a quick sniff before he even considers giving it to you, relieved to find that it just smells like cologne and not sweaty gym guy. God, he'd never live down the embarrassment if he gave you a hoodie that smelled like a locker room.

When comes back to you, you've shifted even close to the fire, too close for his liking. So close that Clay's fingers find the loops of your belt and tug you back a couple of steps, your back hitting his chest with an oomph.

A hand comes round you, hoodie clutched in his palm, knuckles tight, veins popping, that stupid ring on his thumb making you want to die a little because it's unfair. It's unfair that he smells this good, that he's so warm you want to curl back into him, that he's so hot that just his hand has you a little dizzy and he's not even yours. He's just your friend...

"Here, take this. You'll catch a cold." Voice low and rumbly in the way that makes you want to curl around him like a cat.

"I'm okay..." You turn to look up at him, false smile pasted to your lips even as you continue to shiver hands rubbing your arms to give yourself some sort of warmth.

He just gives you a look, brows lowering, lips pursed, disbelieving before forcing you to lift your arms up and shoving the hoodie over your head without much ceremony. You let him because in truth you are absolutely freezing...because it's easy to let Clay take care of you.

The moment the hoodie covers your skin you're instantly 10 times warmer, nuzzling into the fabric as the smell of his cologne, woodsy and spicy, surrounds you. You don't even complain that he'll mess your hair up when Clay pulls the hood up and cinches it around your face in a way you're sure is unflattering.

"Better, don't want you to catch a cold..." He tugs on one of the strings lightly, soft smile, eyes crinkling like you're the best thing he's seen today. It makes you feel warm inside like you'd downed a fresh hot chocolate,

"Thanks, Clay..." His hands linger on your shoulders like he doesn't want to let go of you quite yet. Fingertips tapping against the fabric of the hoodie, tracing lines over your shoulder and down your arms until he pulls away.

Still he's closer to you than he's been in a while, close enough you could kiss him if you wanted, if you just tilted your face a little more, if you just pressed a little further forward...but you don't.

You're still shivering slightly though, Clay's eyes narrowing at the fact you're still not warm.

"C'mere," He tugs you into him, arms wrapping around you, pulling your face into his chest and you melt. Oh, God, you melt into him in a way that feels like it should be embarrassing because he's so warm, so solid underneath you. Your fingers curling into the back of his jacket, sighing into him because for the first time in the last hour you feel comfortable, warm, cosy.

"Better?"

You just nod. You can't see it, not like everyone else, your face too firmly pressed into his chest, but Clay smiles. The softest, most lovesick sort of smile that'll have Kess and Cools, maybe Schmaltzy, making fun of him tomorrow in the locker room...because you don't smile like that while cuddling up to someone who's just your friend. You don't hold someone like that who's just your friend.

[kjhbsies]

Almost Was

navigation | main masterlist | rules

join my 500 celebration!

Smallville Clark Kent x reader

synopsis: She was almost his date, almost his choice— until 'almost' became her quiet reason to walk away

wordcount:

note: angst and pure angst only. spreading more clark kent agenda bc i rarely see someone writing for him ;< based on this request.

You had been nodding along, half-smiling, as Chloe gushed about prom— again. The sparkle was evident in her eyes as she talked about the dress she planned to wear, the accessories she'd paired it with, the way she'd style her hair... it was contagious. Someone had asked her out, and she was on cloud nine about it. Who wouldn't be, right?

You tried your best to match her energy, but your mind started to drift. Would you feel the same excitement if Clark had asked you to the prom?

The answer came quickly— yes. A hundred percent yes. If anything, you'd be more excited. Giddy. Nervous. Happy.

But he wouldn't ask you out. Not in that way. Not in the way that Chloe had been asked. And certainly not in the way you'd hoped for, in the quiet parts of your heart.

You shook your thoughts off and turned your full attention back to Chloe now. You tried to convey a supportive and genuine smile; you owed her that much, at least. But then, something pulled your gaze to the left, and there he was.

Clark Kent, fresh from football practice, jersey clinging to his skin, dark hair sticking to his forehead because of the sweat, walking up with that boyish, heart-stopping smile that almost felt like the world had slowed down and it was just the two of you. His eyes found yours immediately, and for a moment, you almost melted. Almost.

"Hey!" Pete's voice broke you from your thoughts as he jogged over to where you and Chloe were. He ruffled both of your hairs like a proud older brother. Chloe immediately swatted his hand.

"So... how's practice?" You asked lightly.

Pete let out a groan. "Same old. Coach gave me a mild lecture again. Nothing new. He's got a permanent grump-mode activated." He and Clark chuckled. "And oh— everyone's been talking about prom. Their dates and all that."

"Oh, who wouldn't talk about that! Prom season right now is different, don't you guys think?" Chloe nudged you.

"You're just saying that because you have a date." Clark teased her.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I shut up about my handsome, perfect—"

"Oh, here she goes again." You groaned playfully, and Chloe lightly slapped you on the shoulder.

"How about you, Y/n? Who's your date?" Clark asked you.

Your smile immediately faded. "I... I don't think I'm going." You replied, keeping your voice neutral.

"Why not?" Clark's brows furrowed.

You shrugged casually. "Don't think I'd enjoy it."

Pete groaned. "No way. Don't tell me you're spending the prom night holed up in your room?"

"And what's wrong with that?" You frowned.

"Because you're gonna be lonely, dear miss." Chloe smiled at you affectionately.

Clark shifted beside you. "W— well, I can take you to prom."

"No." You said it too fast, so everyone looked at you. You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure. "No." You replied again, softer. "It's fine. I'll go. But you don't have to be my date."

Clark looked genuinely confused. "Why not?"

"Because everyone knows you wanted to take Lana. So... just ask her, and not me." You said, stating the obvious.

Clark's jaw clenched. "I can't. She's with Whitney."

"And you don't get to take Y/n just because you can't get Lana." Chloe cut in sharply, hands resting on your shoulders. "That's a classic a-hole move. Even for you."

Clark's face darkened. "So I can't take her out as friends?"

"Regardless, Clark. We don't want everyone to think she's just a second option. Nobody deserves the subtle humiliation."

You nodded, humming at her words. "She's right, Clark." Your eyes met his with the same intensity, and for a second, both of you held each other's gaze. Chloe was right, but you didn't know why her words stung the way they did. Maybe because it was everything that you feared: being Clark's second option, someone to fall back on when the real deal wasn't available.

Is that what you were to him?

Is that what all you'd ever be?

Getting ready for a prom you didn't want to attend already sucked. But sitting alone in the dimly lit venue, surrounded by dancing lights, slow songs, and glimmering dresses, somehow made it worse.

You were curled into yourself at one of the corner tables, fingers tracing the rim of a half-empty glass of punch as your eyes darted towards the dance floor. Chloe looked radiant in her purple gown, cheeks flushed as her date twirled her around. Her laughter rang loud and free, her smile wide, full of the exact excitement she had been dreaming about.

Pete wasn't too far off, either. His newest crush had said yes to a dance, and now, the two of them were locked in an awkward but adorable slow sway. He looked over at you and beamed, as if trying to lighten your mood.

But you only forced a smile at him, putting a small thumbs-up to let him see that you were okay. You were happy for them. You really were. But you just couldn't imagine yourself in their place. Not when the person you wanted to dance with wouldn't feel the same way as you did with him.

So you sat and watched. The music changed. Another couple slow-danced in the middle of the floor. You found comfort in disappearing between shadows.

That was, until a familiar voice broke through your peace.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing here alone?"

Your head snapped up. There he was— Clark. Beautiful, golden, untouchable Clark. His tux was slightly wrinkled at the hem, probably because he was rushed— but it didn't matter. He looked like a dream. His dark hair fell slightly onto his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed from the chill outside.

"Clark, I—" You rose to your feet, eyes meeting his.

His eyes crinkled in amusement. "Hey."

"Hey," You said quietly, trying not to stare for too long. You were sure he could hear your heart beat despite the loud music in the background.

"You looked..." Clark paused, eyes tracing over your figure as if seeing you for the first time. "Beautiful."

Your breath caught in your throat, but you tried not to let it show. You smiled, unsure how to respond with the compliment.

He held out a hand. "Come on, you didn't want me as your date. The least you can do is not reject a dance."

He grinned playfully, but there was a flicker of something sincere in his eyes.

"I..." You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment too long. You didn't want to do this. Not if you'd just end up with a heart too heavy to carry by the end of it. But you knew Clark— he wasn't the type to just let this go. "Sure."

You placed your hand with his. It was slightly cold, and you shivered. Clark noticed.

He led you to the dance floor. His hands hesitated for a bit before it landed gently on your waist. You draped your arms around his neck, careful to keep space between the two of you.

You looked away, eyes scanning every detail of the function to distract yourself.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked after a few minutes of silent-dancing. His voice was gentle, as if afraid to startle you.

"Hmm?" You looked at him and met his gaze. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yup. Just trying something new."

He snickered. "And what is it?"

"Like shutting my mouth."

He hummed, nodding. "Not sure if I like it." He squeezed your waist slightly, grounding you. "You know, you're one of the prettiest girl I've ever met."

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing bitterly. "And where is this conversation going?"

"I don't know," Clark admitted with a shrug. "But... if you were thinking about what Chloe had said yesterday— it wasn't true. I don't want to make you feel that way."

Your smile faltered. "It's okay, Clark. I know you didn't mean it like that. You're not that kind of person."

Clark smiled wider, visibly relaxing. "Thanks. I was nervous all night thinking I ruined our friendship."

"You didn't." Not intentionally, anway.

You held his gaze for a moment— trying to etch this memory in your brain.

Then, the music shifted— soft, dreamy, the kind of song that made you believe that love really is beautiful. The lights dimmed further, a single spotlight sweeping slowly over the crowd. You looked past Clark and saw Lana, sitting alone in the corner.

Your heart ached.

"In fact," You whispered at him. "I think Lana would agree with me."

"What?" Clark followed your line of gaze, and his eyes landed on her. You saw it— the way his eyes softened. The way his lips parted, just a bit, like his heart recognized her way differently than with yours.

You pulled away before he could say something more. "Go," You said, urging him gently. "Go ask her to dance."

Clark looked back at you, hesitant. "You sure you're gonna be okay alone?"

You nodded. "Don't worry about me, Clark."

He smiled— soft, grateful, not knowing he was unintentionally twisting the knife further. "Thanks, Y/n. You're an angel."

You watched him go. Step by step. Every moment feeling like goodbye you weren't ready for. And when he reached her, and Lana looked up, smiling like she'd been hoping for him to come— you just knew.

You'll never be his choice.

A bitter smile tugged at your lips before you quietly turned and slipped away into the crowd, unnoticed. By the time Clark looked back to find you, you were already gone.

©kjhbsies

[hiolovesnejihyuga]

INARIZAKI'S REACTION TO: you lost your voice.

ft: all inarizaki players.

warnings. not proofread. feminine pronouns. use of (y/n) once, i think. may contain spelling and grammar mistakes. translated from spanish (my mother tongue) with google translator (don't bully me, please)

author note. i'm so sorry if any of the characters are ooc, i'm new to writing for canon and not original characters.

When you showed up to practice, just nodding your greetings and offering smiles, without any sound coming out of your mouth, the team malfunctioned and panicked.

But before they could even ask, they heard multiple sounds coming from everyone's phones.

Suna is probably the one who checks what's up, and he's hit with a message you sent to the group chat.

“Hey, so- I lost my voice for a couple of weeks, so I'll communicate like this.”

KITA SHINSUKE

“…For weeks?”

Immediately shifts into protective mode.

Tells you to rest and avoid straining yourself. Doesn't want you to show up to practice, but if you do anyway, he'll just sigh it off.

Silently worried but doesn’t show it much.

OJIRO ARAN

“Ah, damn… that’s rough.”

Feels bad for you and tries to be extra considerate.

Helps you communicate when others struggle to understand, though it took him a few days to get used to checking his phone when talking to you.

AKAGI MICHINARI

“WAIT, WEEKS?! LIKE—YOU WON’T TALK AT ALL?!”

Panics instantly.

Tries to make you laugh, realizes you can’t respond out loud. Now panicking more.

He jokes about it, but if you glare at him, he'll stop. then the next day, he starts again

OMIMI REN

"...Weeks? No talkin'?"

The silence from Omimi is deafening. His usual stoic demeanor falters slightly as the situation hits.

He tilts his head, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. His mind seems to be calculating the implications—how he’ll communicate with you without your usual voice, how you’ll handle everything, and how long they’ll have to adjust to this.

"...I guess we’ll all have to adjust... somehow."

KOSAKU YUUTO

“So you’re tellin’ me… No teasin'? No witty remarks? No laughin' at our dumb moments?”

Looks genuinely heartbroken.

Promises to “speak double” to make up for your silence. Everyone, including you, just nod.

GINJIMA HITOSHI

“…Who do I need to fight?”

Doesn’t know how to handle it, so he just silently pats your head.

He tells you things like "you're brave for coming to school like this!", and you can't even get mad at him when he forgets you can't talk.

MIYA ATSUMU

“So yer tellin’ me I got a couple weeks without ya roastin’ me? Damn, what a loss.”

Pretends to be chill but is actually worried.

Immediately starts texting you memes just to make you feel better.

Promises to “speak double” to make up for your silence. Everyone groans, and you just shake your head.

“WHAT WAS THAT?! WHY DIDN'T YA REACT THE SAME WHEN KOSAKU SAID IT?”

MIYA OSAMU

“Hate to say it, but we’re doomed. We need subtitles now.”

Buys warm drinks for you and forces you to rest.

He may even buy you a snack, to let you know that even if you can't talk, you are appreciated.

SUNA RINTARO

“…Kinda eerie without ya talkin’.”

Texts you random things to keep you entertained.

Helps you communicate with the team subtly, but definitely teases you about it.

Him and you texting, even if you were next to each other, has always been a normal thing. So it didn't change much.

RISEKI HEISUKE

“Wait, wait, wait—so, like, not talking at all?”

Actually devastated, and slightly shy because he doesn't know what to do or say.

Spends way too much time trying to figure out hand signals for communication.

extras.

Everyone starts learning how to communicate without words.

They text you or use notes when needed.

Some try to make you laugh and immediately regret it because you can't, and you are left with a sore throat (more than before)

Atsumu still annoys you, but in written form.

Suna takes advantage and texts you things like “blink twice if you think Atsumu is an idiot.” which you do.

Kita becomes your personal health supervisor.

The entire team becomes extra soft with you.

more under the cut.

After practice, Akagi keeps texting you jokes, Ginjima texts you a small phrase for support, Kosaku continues the conversation you were having before.. All that while the Miyas are arguing. Then, you give, not only to Atsumu and Osamu, but to the whole team a deadpan-blank stare, Aran says to the twins: "See? She's yellin' at you two in her head."

"She's watchin' you too, y'know?"

Then, a message notification pops up on everyone's phones.

"Why on earth are you texting me, when I'm the one who can't talk? I'm listening to you all.”

KITA SHINSUKE, OMIMI REN

They don’t even flinch. Just nod and move on like nothing happened.

Because nothing happened, they were the only ones who realized that even if you had no voice, you could hear them.

OJIRO ARAN

“…Oh.”

Feels dumb but just laughs it off.

Apologizes but still keeps texting you out of habit.

He may even develop a new talent.

The new talent: understanding you in conversations where you only nod or blink at him.

AKAGI MICHINARI

“Wait, so we didn’t HAVE to text?”

Visibly malfunctioning.

Yells, “WHY DIDN’T YA SAY SO?—oh, wait.”

Feels a little guilty when you glare at him.

KOSAKU YUUTO

“(Y/N). YA COULD'VE TOLD US.”

Immediately regrets saying that.

Facepalms. Hard.

Akagi laughs at him, because he said the same thing. you glare at them so hard that they don't speak for the next hour.

GINJIMA HITOSHI

“…I feel so stupid.”

Laughs at himself.

Says, “But be honest—wasn’t it funny watchin' us suffer?”

When you nod, with a teasing smile, he laughs again.

MIYA ATSUMU

“…Yer tellin’ me I wasted all my good jokes in text form for nothin’?!”

Actually offended.

Probably starts talking even MORE dramatically just to make up for the silence. everyone groans collectively.

MIYA OSAMU

“…So we just did all that for no reason?”

Shakes his head and walks away.

Will never let you live it down, and makes you promise you'll buy him food later even if that promise doesn't even make sense.

SUNA RINTARO

“…You enjoyed this, didn’t you?”

Just smirks. He doesn't care, because he probably already knew.

Takes a screenshot of the text and never lets you forget it.

RISEKI HEISUKE

“Damn. We really ARE idiots..”

Actually impressed at your patience for not telling them earlier.

Probably overthinks every conversation for the next week.

extras.

Half of them feel embarrassed.

Half of them find it hilarious.

Atsumu won’t shut up about it.

Suna 100% sends the screenshot to the team group chat, even if you sent the message there.

Kita and Omimi just nod and move on, they forget about it the next day.

Akagi is still yelling about it five minutes later.

You definitely knew they would be this stupid, and you surely let them struggle on purpose.

tags:

[quietlyblooms-gone]

chiyo's so lucky to have this much enrichment in her enclosure asdfg

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Could I please request Harley Sawyer x reader who has their periods (heavy flow and painful cramps to the MAX to the point the can't even stand cause I'm literally doing the itadori pose on the floor bawling my eyes out.) ily and ur writing so much! Sending love🫶

Harley Sawyer x You – Dealing with Extreme Period Pain

Harley isn’t good with emotions, but pain? Pain he understands. And when it’s your pain? Yeah—he’s not about to just stand by and do nothing.

🖤 His Initial Reaction 🖤

The first time he sees you curled up, barely able to move, face twisted in pain?

He assumes it’s something serious. Something he needs to fix.

"What the hell’s wrong?" His voice is sharp, but his eyes are scanning you for injuries.

When you mumble out “It’s just my period”, he just stares for a second—processing.

He’s quiet, unreadable. Then:

"…That’s it?"

Not dismissing your pain—just shocked that something so common can knock you out like this.

🖤 Once He Gets It 🖤

Harley doesn’t pity. He solves. If this is something that happens monthly, he’s making sure you’re prepared.

Painkillers? Done. He stocks them up like he’s building a survival kit.

Hot water bottles? Heating pads? You didn’t even ask, but he’s already handed one to you without a word.

Carrying you if needed? He doesn’t hesitate. You’re too weak to stand? Fine. He picks you up like it’s nothing.

"Not dealing with you collapsing. Just shut up and hold on."

Silent but deadly levels of care. He won’t say "Are you okay?" ten times, but he notices everything.

Grimaces when you shift wrong? He’s already adjusting your pillows.

Winces when you try to sit up? His hand is already at your back, steadying you.

Can’t eat? He figures out something light and easy for you—won’t admit he looked it up.

🖤 Protective Mode: Activated 🖤

Someone tries to make a snide comment about you being “dramatic” about it?

Harley’s death glare alone could kill.

"Say that again. No—go ahead." Voice calm, but dangerous.

If he can remove stressors, he will.

You got work? Not anymore—you’re “suddenly unavailable.” Don’t ask how.

Need silence? He makes sure no one disturbs you.

If you’re too stubborn to rest, his patience snaps:

“You wanna be miserable? Fine. But you’re not doing it on my watch. Lie the hell down.”

🖤 The Quiet Affection 🖤

He’s not the type for soft words, but he is the type to sit there, quietly, until you fall asleep.

His hand? Might not hold yours, but it’ll rest on your leg or back, a grounding touch.

His voice? A low, steady hum if you need background noise. Maybe reading something aloud, pretending it’s for himself.

And when it’s finally over—when the worst of it passes?

He just exhales, looks at you, and mutters,

"’Bout damn time."

But there’s relief in his tone. Like he felt every hour of your suffering with you.

💀 If You Ever Make a Joke About It 💀

"Ugh, I think my uterus is trying to kill me."

Harley, completely serious:

"You need it removed?"

"…What."

"If it’s trying to kill you, get rid of it."

"That’s—That’s not how it works, Harley."

Grunts. But you know he was actually considering it.

Harley might not be gentle, but when it comes to you? He makes damn sure you’re taken care of.

[astracora]

Poly!LADs headcanons - because I'm a disaster human and they live rent free in my head.

Home Edition

Also includes the main mc I write with headcanons??? Canons????

Masterlist

Zayne is very clean, he tidies up as soon as he sees mess. Can't leave it for a second. (He also simply doesn't think to say to someone 'hey can you clean up x', he'll just go 'well I'm here' and tidy.)

Xavi will tidy but he'll normally have a set time in mind to do it, aka 'I'll do this in 10 minutes' except he means it. Which sometimes means Zayne gets to it quicker.

Raffy will fully forget the concept of tidying, everything becomes like his art studio. Will sometimes do 'I'll do this in 10 minutes' doesn't mean it.

Sylus is generally very tidy, will clean as he does anything, part of his 'leave nothing out as a weakness, remove traces of yourself as you move' energy, but it does make him easy to live with in regards to cleanliness.

MC is not tidy, they're chaotic and often forget where things are. They try to help manage the mess but often simply forget in the chaos of doing something. They just need a lil nudge and they'll go into cleaning mode and fix all the mess.

They all have jobs that tend to be 'theirs' though it's fluid depending on time restraints and current projects or life situations.

Raffy/Xavi are best at doing the grocery shopping. They're least bothered by crowded or loud places, and least likely to buy every sweet in the place. Raffy does do impulse purchases, but they generally take lists.

Xavier also takes care of the plants and the garden in the house. (Everyone likes checking in on the garden though.)

Sylus/Raffy are the best at cooking. Sylus cooks primarily as long as he has the time (tries to make it as much as he can), and Raffy cooks the best fish you'll ever eat in your life.

They will sometimes also supervise Xavier's cooking but with him it's a two man job of not letting the kitchen burn down. (Sylus doesn't want to replace another kitchen.)

Zayne is king of tidying, he doesn't do it all himself, and everyone tries to make sure they pick up their weight esp when he's very busy, but the man has systems upon systems.

MC does a bit of everything, they're not as patient with cooking, but enjoy baking a lot. Primarily they help stay on top of laundry, dishes and are co-captain to Zayne's cleaning frenzies.

They all have their at least one of their own specific rooms in the house, either specialised for their work, or just a specific place for them to destress if they want alone time.

Zayne: has his office.

Raffy: has an art room, he also kept his studio for anything he's keeping secret from the others (an art project) or for bigger pieces that he needs more space than the house can provide.

Sylus: has a music room, it's decorated with records and various instruments. Of course he keeps all his bases, home is home, work is work.

Xavier: he set up a planetarium in a nap room, just incase he gets home really late and needs to sleep but is worried about disturbing someone.

MC: has a room decked out in just every single collectible they've ever hoarded ever.

Raffy technically has the most 'normal' sleep schedule, awake in the day, asleep at night, except he also doesn't sleep when he's working on a painting, so it often goes out of the window.

Zayne has a sleep schedule which is normally he's awake in the day, asleep at night, but he's also a doctor so he works whenever he needs to, and this can often mean night shifts, very long shifts with on call sleep room visits, or simply his normal nightmare-based insomnia.

Sylus is awake at night and asleep during the day mostly, has a fairly reliable schedule in terms of active time, but he's a busy man who does a lot of work travel. So might not be at home very often because of that. While he pretty much sleeps exclusively in the day, if he's around and someone really wants company, he's happy to join them in bed. He's also always willing to be out in the day if someone asks for his presence for something.

Xavier sleeps whenever he's tired, he's a working hunter which means he's awake when he's needed for a mission, and he works at night as Lumiere, so he has absolutely zero schedule. He and Sylus are normally the ones who take naps together because of this.

MC's life schedule is very reliable, they work in the day or whenever they have a mission, but primarily they sleep at night. That said they have insomnia and they also suffer from frequent nightmares due to their history, because of this, they will take naps when they can, and will often be awake until the early hours of the morning unable to sleep properly.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Do you have any tips on writing a character that can be a bit quiet and weird/quirky yet confrontational and loud. She bites and picks her fingers when very anxious but she’s also a confident, and brave character who fights for what’s right and what she wants. I have a difficulty mixing a character’s personality sometimes, and wondered if you had any tips to help? :)

On Creating Beautifully Contradictory Characters ✨

Hey writer friend! Rin here.

I LIVE for these questions! 💕

Here's the thing about characters (and people). we're not single-note beings who fit into neat little boxes. The most real characters exist in the in-between spaces.

Let's talk about how to make this work...

The secret to contradictory character traits

What makes a character feel REAL isn't consistency. it's coherence.

• Your character doesn't need to be the same in every situation

• What they need is an emotional core that makes sense of their seemingly opposing behaviors

• Think of their personality as a constellation, not a straight line

When I'm developing characters like this, I always start with their wounds and values. What do they care about SO DEEPLY that it would make a normally quiet person raise their voice? What hurts have they experienced that make them bite their fingers when anxious?

Some practical ways to blend these traits

• Give her specific triggers for each mode. Maybe she's quiet in casual social settings but finds her voice when someone's being mistreated.

• Create physical transitions between states. How does her body language shift when moving from quiet observer to vocal defender? Does she take a deep breath? Square her shoulders?

• The finger-biting anxiety habit is actually perfect. it can be the bridge between her quiet and loud states. Maybe it's what she does while gathering courage before speaking up.

• Show us moments where BOTH traits are present at once. She can be nervously biting her fingers WHILE confronting someone.

What NOT to do (because it's boring)

Please don't fall into these traps:

• Don't make her "usually quiet except when..." That's not a complex character, that's just situational behavior.

• Don't explain away her contradictions with trauma (unless that's genuinely part of her story). Not every character trait needs a tragic backstory!

• Don't make her self-conscious about her contradictions. She doesn't need to apologize for being both quiet and loud.

Let's make some word magic happen

Try writing a scene where:

We first see her in her quiet, observing mode

Something happens that triggers her sense of justice

We witness her internal thought process as she decides to speak up

She exhibits her anxious behavior (finger biting) while ALSO stepping into her confrontational mode

Afterward, she returns to quietness, but it feels different now

The magic happens in those transition moments. That's where readers will fall in love with her complexity.

Remember this always

The most memorable characters aren't the ones who are consistently anything. They're the ones who surprise us while still feeling true to themselves.

Your character's contradictions aren't flaws to fix or explain away. they're what make her human. They're what make readers say "I KNOW her" even if they've never met anyone exactly like her.

So embrace those contradictions. Let her be quiet AND loud. Let her be anxious AND brave. Let her be fully, messily human.

I hope this post helped you

-Rin T.

[emeraldserenade]

Feels Like Home ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: you go to Joaquín after a date gone wrong

tw: fem!reader, implied/mentioned attempted SA and all the emotions and feelings that come with it (or at least the one's I felt), ex!Joaquín, happy ending, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

I had thoughts while in the shower, I'm sorry. Enjoy this though because I finally feel like I'm back in the groove of writing.

➽──────────────❥

You were drenched from the rain, your sobs tore up your throat and out of your mouth. Your tears were hot and heavy as they fell from your eyes. Your purse hung from the crook of your arm while your hands clutched at the torn fabric that was the bodice of your dress.

You knew Joaquín was home, you saw him pull into the parking garage when you drove by for your date. You wanted to lie and say you had no idea why you chose somewhere so far from you yet so close to him. You knew why, it’s the same reason you stood just right of his door, you still loved him. You had fought your own mind the whole way there, telling yourself that he owed you nothing. You broke up with him, you hurt him. Yet there you stood, at the side of his door trying to work up the courage to knock or ring the doorbell. To remove your hands from your ruined bodice, thus removing the only sense of safety you felt at the moment.

It was a moment that you felt just as horrible as the other part of your night. Another man left his apartment, and you saw the way his eyes flashed with something dark when he took in your appearance. You stepped in front of Joaquín's door and before you could process what was happening, you were being pulled by the elbow away from it. He shifted his hands to your upper arms when you were forced to face him.

"Do you need help, pretty?" The man was uncomfortably close and you felt your sobs pick up. You frantically shook your head, unable to form a sentence.

"Let her go," you heard the low growl and prominent threat from Joaquín behind you. You didn't notice him opening his door, but you were thankful he did. The man let you go and you stumbled back from the small push he gave you. You clutched your arms even tighter to you, your crying never ceasing but it turned silent a while ago.

You watched as he made his way to the elevator and you almost fell in relief, but Joaquín gently lead you into his apartment. "I'm sorry," you cried, the fear and exhaustion from the night finally falling over you. "I am so sorry, for everything," you did fall to the floor this time. Joaquín had let you go to grab you one of his shirts, and it was in that brief moment that you fell. You mumbled more apologies that Joaquín barely gave any mind, he knew you were an emotion wreak and he forgave you for breaking his heart a while ago. Sam told him that it's crazy what love can make you do. So he busied himself with making you your favorite tea, now his favorite after you introduced it to him. And grabbing the cookies he showed you that he knew you loved.

"It's all my fault, I led him on," your words sent Joaquín into hyper protection mode.

"Hey, hey," he knelt down to the ground as he grabbed your attention. The shirt he gave you was still clutched in your hands so he helped you slip it on as he spoke. "This, whatever happened, was not your fault. None of this was your fault," he smoothed your hair back into place as you slipped your hands through the sleeves. You felt the safety that was ripped away from you slowly get replaced, it's partly way you came to Joaquín. You knew he could make you feel safe with no effort at all.

"But," you were cut off by Joaquín giving you a look.

"No buts," he told you and you just nodded.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You woke up in Joaquín's bed. By the time you had calmed down enough to drive back home, it was 3am and Joaquín didn't want you to be alone after what happened. Joaquín wasn't in bed with you, and you hoped he had gone to work so you could slip out without the shame of what happened getting to you.

Luck wasn't on your side you noticed when you saw Joaquín walk back into the room with his phone and a water bottle in hand.

"Good morning," he spoke softly and moved to the unoccupied side of the bed. "I brought you water and pain meds in case you need them," he pulled the small rattling bottle from his pocket and held it out to you along with the water. You took both from him, you had a raging headache from all the crying you had done the night before.

"I'll leave," you told him, moving to get up. You were stopped by his hand landing on your arm.

"No, I just talked to Sam, I have the say off. Stay," he told you, you could hear the desperation in his voice.

"Ok," you settled back into the bed and he moved to be beside you. "How'd you know I was out there last night?"

"I have motion detectors on my doorbell, I got an alert and saw you out there with that man," he told you and you realized that you standing off to the side saved you from having to face him before you were ready. "Why'd you come here?"

"I needed to go somewhere I knew I would feel safe, be with someone I," you stopped before you could admit you still loved him but you knew it was too late. He was smart and could figure it out from what you said.

"Is that why you chose a place closer to me?"

"It's why I chose our favorite place," you admitted, staring at the ceiling to keep from crying again. You heard the small huff of laughter that came from Joaquín and you knew you were done for.

"You chose our favorite place for a first date?"

"I chose our favorite place because I was trying to convince myself that he didn't need to be you. That I made my bed so now I have to lie in it," you told him, defensive over nothing.

"You don't have to lie in it alone, I'm right here," you could hear the underlying offer in his words. He was asking for another chance, even when it wasn't his fault you weren't together anymore.

"Yeah, that would be nice," you lowly said as you took his hand.

➽──────────────❥

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