#pls validate my new writer heart

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway. 

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy. 

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air,  "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

 "I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice. 

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

 "You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up." 

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch. 

 "Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod. 

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

[alice1505]

I made the mistake of rewatching Sherlock because I never did finish it back in the day (I was -clenches fist- seething over the queerbaiting and rage quit after not fully watching episode 1 of s4) and I'm here to make my side hyperfixation (what year is this??? Who am I???) Tumblr's problem. The more I sit with s4, the less I like it 😂 There were pieces and elements I liked, but overall, it left a bad taste in my mouth. Forgive me if any or all if these points have been talked to death, I missed all the discourse and I'm hella late, but I need to flail and send my thoughts into the void because what even WAS that season? I can't believe I avoided it for years, got drawn in by a couple of tiktoks making fun (affectionately) of superwholock Era and That Scene about the fucking phone charger port, binged all of it, only to be left with..... that. Not nearly as disappointing or rage inducing as spn's ending but by God, did it leave a hole in me. So please ignore my rambling thoughts as I slap them down here for my own sanity.

• First and foremost, what - and I can't stress this enough - the fuck was UP with the assassination of John's entire character???? What was that??? Why????

• Related to that point - I can appreciate the angst point and potential it provides, as I'm reading many, many fics, but AYO WHY didn't anyone rip John an entire new one for that beat down he did on Sherlock????? Hello???? 911?????

• Tell me why everything felt so stilted and borderline icy. Like I get the high emotions and shit, but after a certain point... 😭 was there a falling out between Benedict and Martin that I'm not aware of? Did they just try to ungay everything so hard and were so pissed at the audience picking up everything THAT THEY PUT???? into this show and their interactions that they just hit the brakes hard enough to make everything feel weird???

• A lot of it felt weird. Off kilter a little. Forced in some places, toned down in others (and toned down where it shouldn't have been), a nod to ships but weirdly/hatefully??? Idk if that makes sense. Like the whole Sherlock and Molly phone call (I do not mean any hate to this ship, I really hope it doesn't come off this way. Not my cup of tea but you are valid). Why was Molly so upset BEFORE the call? Did I miss something? Also I don't personally think or feel she'd still have those feelings for him??? I??? I am bamboozled.

• to that whole point, Eurus was.... Hmm. Mmmm. She was. Something. (Confused derogatory)

• I like Mary as a character. I also hated her. (Definitely biased by my shipper trash ass self for johnlock, I'm sorry). Wtf were those messages, please. Edit: AND ANOTHER THING. John's reaction to Sherlock's death - awful, gut wrenching, beautiful, my heart breaks with and for him, utterly devasting. John's reaction to Mary's death - had me sitting there like🧍‍♀️(it was weird. so weird. awkward. w h y. (we know why, but also the acting choices were Something TM, in both cases! for different reasons!) i'm sorry i just can't get past my anger and put off-ness with mary, fun as she could be)

• why did mycroft and John switch roles 😭 pls. The last episode was just. So Much. The lackluster responses from John, to John, to Sherlock, between them, like.... hello???? Who are these people?? Help me. Moriarty saved me for a brief shining moment tho, God bless.

There's more I could spew, but that's what's sitting right at the top of my head. I guess all this just to say, if a show runner/writer really just fucking hates the audience they got (instead of the one they wanted), they probably shouldn't have fucking become a show runner/writer in the first place. Either hand it to someone who can actually handle it and listens, or fuck off. I will never understand when shows and plots and characters gets kamikaze'd because of a show runner being pissy and egotistical. Like ????? Grow up. Learn from Bryan Fuller and Hannibal or something.

Sorry for all the rambling, bless anyone who reads this and makes sense of it 😂

[saintobio]

I CAUGHT UR BOX OPEN AAAA

This is smth ive really been wanting to say, saint, and that youre truly one of a kind. The way you built your characters like gojo's development and battles with his feelings, yn as a person and her pain and considerations, akemi's conflicting yet understandable anger, things that just ties everything together on why this person did this many chapters ago, and so much more is just so flavorful that it brings me so much bittersweet feelings (its reached a point where i sometimes look at these characters differently when i see them in the show??? 😭)

it has never been this difficult to be biased on one character when the rest just have the most valid responses in the whole ordeal (and this doesn't just apply in sy, even in wasteland, sn, and your shakespearean pieces?? oml) not only that but your plot building is truly beautiful that i want to witness the end of it and this just proves on how much of an amazing writer you are 🥹 as a fellow writer hobbyist (in a diff platform) i truly look up to you and admire your talent, i put so much high regard on your hardwork and i hope you do too.

i recently switched to a new account but i've been reading your works since before sn finished and i will gladly stay in the saint (angst) hype-train and wait for every chapter and new works you release!

sorry for the rant but i just wanna say that i appreciate you and your work. Don't let socmed pressure you on how you should control your hobbies and happiness 🥹💭💝

thank you so much 🥹 reading through your message means a lot to me! this is so sweet and supportive, i’m in tears aaaaaaa T-T it’s honestly difficult to write such emotionally damaged characters, especially with how complicated the events in sy are. but hearing you guys theorizing and analyzing in such great detail makes writing all the more rewarding :’)

the paragraph long analyses abt the yn-gojo-akemi situation are always a joy for me to read! pls take my heart, all of u <33

[seeingivy]

ronnie I LOVE your new fic idea for eren and y/n (singlehandedly curing all of our dehabilitating academic validation 😔) i don't know if you know who @bloompompom is, but one of her stories is a eren y/n lab au and your story reminded me of it SM

and how was ur finals week? mine is going on rn and killing me 😭 i think i remember you mentioning graduating a while ago but i don't know if it was for you or just working there, but congrats on the end of the school year anyway!

ALSO i JUST began reading your sukuna fic despite not having watched jjk and the butterflies are INSANE (my cousin keeps telling me to watch jjk lmk if i should!) and tell me why i searched up who geto is and went 😳 (nanami kind of reminds me of erwin but idk if its j me?) im going to miss method acting so much pls keep giving us crumbs 😭

anyways sorry for the long yap i hope i'm not bothering you 😭 but i reallly enjoy your writing style one of my favs on this app, can't wait to see what you write next!!

much love, vie <3

hi pookie!!!!!

i have not heard of that writer or that fic, but i've added it to my list as a recommendation!!! but i will read it after i write mine bc i have a debilitating fear of plagiarizing to the point where sometimes I can't read fic on here bc im scared ill accidentally get so inspired I steal an idea without meaning to 😭 so i'm going to read it after!!!

my finals week was actually an attempt on my life. like I full on got a fever at the end of it and was out for a week. I didn't graduate (I have a year left!) but I did mention that i was at our graduation ceremonies because I work with our student first aid team and we deal with all the medical calls with public safety. and I hope your finals went well and you're getting some much needed rest!

WATCH JJK! (but beware it's like straight pain)....also like ignore the fact that I took literally the worst character in that show and went actually you are nothing like this. like actually my sukuna is so ooc it's insane but I also can do whatever I want and I don't care

thank you so much for your sweet words and the yap!!! I always love to hear it, it makes my heart so so warm 💌

[fluffydisneyprincess]

Want a good fic with lots of fluff, heartbreak, and plot twists?

Check out mine! A New Kind of Flame recently hit 80 chapters! And we aren’t even at the end yet!

There is stupid amounts of fluff. So much fluff. I am a sucker for fluff. But also a lot of struggle. There's Lisa as your big sister Kaeya as your bestie and Adelinde playing the world's cheekiest wingwoman.

If you are interested and looking for a Diluc×Reader fic the link is in the fic title!

(pls this is my first fic and every interaction is a smol bit of validation for my tiny lil writer heart)

[filthforfriends]

Hi! I recently had a little cold thus a lot of time on my hands. During my many hours rolled around in my bed I decided to download the epub version of GA from AO3 to my phone to have it among all my ebooks. Upon doing so I have found out it is already TWICE as long as some of my fave books. That completely baffled me.

Here are some thoughts from my recent reread that I have decided to dump on you ❤️:

- the fact that both y/n and D have completely different struggles but are so empathetic and understanding towards eachother is beautiful

- y/n and D are so compatible and a real match made in heaven in the sense that they somehow compliment eachothers weak spots (don’t know if you get what I‘m saying hold on…) they are really good at validating the other’s feelings and insecurities while also genuinely loving/adoring what the other is insecure about organically (I hope you get what I mean haha)

- are y/n and D going to go full rabitt/complete horny idiots mode now that they finally figured out how to knot right? if so I am highly looking forward to it they deserve it

- y/n and D need a vreak from all these health issues they got my poor babies

- speaking of that I hope the implant and all of y/n‘s hormones don’t cause any trouble anymore, poor thing that chaoter was heartbreaking (also will we ever see y/n in heat? 🤔🫠)

- also wanted to highlight chapter 7 it’s an actual masterpiece and I will never get over it… the emotions get me every time

- actually the whole AD2 arc is so beautifully written… D‘s character is so deeply nuanced and the smallest details all make sense as you find out more about him and the reality of his life and personality and health it breaks my heart and heals it at the same time

- the deleted scenes are giving me LIFE 🫠 pls keep them coming I am always thirsty for that sweet sweet content 🥹

That’s all! just came here to geek out about this story to you ❤️ you‘re amazing and I LITERALLY CANNOT WAIT to find out what happens next

all my love 💧

YES we will see rabid behavior and heat/rut. Chapter 7 took so much time and is so long because I rewrote it a lot so there are more deleted scenes where that came from! I just have to finish those scenes up because when I'd get towards the end and realize it wasn't good enough I'd move on before finishing if that makes sense. Those scenes are typically a few hundred words away from being finished and my brain can only do one thing at a time: write new shit or finish old shit, so if may take a while, but everything will be posted.

Also I actually didn't think Guardian Angel was that long. Most of us have seen those fics on AO3 that are 400k+ words and GA is like 125k words. So gives me some real appreciation for certain fan fic writers because like god damn.

Much love towards you as always <3

[zhongrin]

Rinnnnn!!!! Hope ya are doing great these days! ❤️❤️

Wdym typo? I thought Moray eel Zhonglee is your hubby? /j

help 🤸

Wait ya mean you hc Zhongli as a kind of messy? And forhejeibejek so cute how you're controlling it for your hubby aaaa, you truly complete each other <33

Ikr?? I can't speak as fancy as the both of them like 🏃💨 hope my Zhongli drabbles are already enough heh. (BTW! can I send ya some drabbles from time to time too? <3)

LMAO ngl I somehow understand that, stan Meitham <33 (plssss it's also so cute dodbejkwk)

HELP RIN I would never simp for Zhongli (although some ppl are doubting that heh-);; but I had some troubles the last day in which I thought my Ayato phase came back but it didn't. I still love Baizhu with my whole heart ❤️🤸

HELP RIN you're so cute, but no need to do that mwah <33

Yes Changsheng was literally all the time like: aight, can ya get together now? Can't handle Baizhu nor you acting like this 🙄

IKR QIQI IS SO CUTE I wanna hug her so bad frfr ❤️❤️

HELP WHERE DID THE DOLLS CAME FROM?? 🧑‍🦯

Ah I see I see, but he surely thought his dear friend is lucky to have a follower like you <33

LMAO ALHAITHAM 😭 I mean he totally would omfg.;; But yes I can understand the relief of his then heh

Ikrikr he surely was but he also was confused at first when he saw me walking up the stairs, limping a bit but also he was like "Who is this? Never seen her" like new patient yk

Then he saw me tripping and ofc he rushed over to help me and was like "Oh she is clumsy. But adorable. Wait WHAT-;;"

What can I say? He fell 0.0000001 seconds faster than me heh.

Next question! <3

Do you have any pet names for your hubby's? If so, what are they and also maybe why it is that specific pet name? <3

(help Rin I thank you sm for answering my long ass asks with such long ass texts, I really appreciate it and I really enjoy reading it aaaaaa <33❤️)

i am!! ty for asking ehheh i hope you're doing well too and baizhu is giving you enough kithes <3

moray eel zhonglee gOODBYE I AM DEAD HLSDJFKLJSDFS no but fr they're so funny looking i cannot- also APPARENTLY THERE'S A DRAGON MORAY EEL VI WE'RE ONTO SOMETHING HERE in an alternate universe, liyue is an underwater kingdom with dragon moray eel zhongli ruling over the city

not exactly messy but he hoards a lot of things. yk how asian parents keep the sauces and containers from takeaway food? ....... yeah.

you can send me drabbles yes ofc that would make my day???? hsldjflksjdklf you don't even need to ask helphsldkfjklsjdlf but you don't have to ofc!!! never feel pressured to do so, although pls know that i would treasure them forever if you ever do so 😭

......... vi vi vi what if. imagine both baizhu and ayato pining for you- 👀

where did the dolls come from you ask? uhhhhhhh- we're writers we have ✨unlimited✨ imagination :D

"oh she's clumsy" -> "oh that's adorable i want to protect her- wait what-" is the only valid reaction nodnod would you say baizhu is protective of you then bc i can totally see that hehe <3

pet names!!!!

i have a lot for zhongli hehe i call him xiànɡ ɡonɡ / hubby, lónglí (mashing character for dragon + last character of his name), li, darling, dear, love.... i actually had a whole post about it sldjfklsjdlf ALSO ALSO since you're a selfship enthusiast if you're interested there's this collab you can check out hehe

for al haitham.... actually not that much bc he doesn't call me by nicknames too much either!! but i do call him haitham, dear, beloved, babe (to fluster him mainly lmao)!! and he usually just calls me by name (meirin / mei / rin) but on private he might use habibti or love <3

how about you and baizhu? what kind of nicknames do you have for each other? also!!! what kind of dates are your favorite? <3

(and pls it's no problem at all, i'm glad you like the long responses bc i. i gush about my selfships a LOT WAUGHHJDSFH i enjoy reading your asks too wahhh they always make me smile <3)

[kaizsche]

WYLER MY BELOVED TOXIC ROMANCE!!!!!!!! I wanted them together even before I learned Tyler was the Hyde, cause he got her in a way Xavier never did, and wasn't pushy as hell like him. And when I learned he was the Hyde it only solidified my Wyler shipping heart because they are PERFECT for each other. Wednesdays love for dark and violent things, and Tyler is just that dark and violent. It's perfectly juxtaposed to his rather sweet facade he had going on.

same tbh i was like... there ain't no way they're gonna pair wednesday up with this crusty ass kid and was very pleased when tyler's THE love interest.

i kept screaming about wyler being perfect for each other too!!! a friend of mine hated the wyler ship cause in her opinion wednesday's asexual which... i mean valid (cause she watched the films) and then i kept screaming in her face because if wednesday DID get attracted to someone it makes sense that she'll fall for tyler who just fits the addams family dynamic perfectly.

hoping we got more of them in s2, honestly. writers pls do your job properly this time and give me the wednesday is tyler's new master storyline pls or i will choke on my vomit and die

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

PLEASE tell me Matt is Matt Murdock and he overhears her talking to a friend or something about Matt and he has a lil crush on her and decides to ask her out or play along to bug billy, at first I could see billy thinking nah this guy has nothing on me but Matt can totally prove his worth and but the hell out of billy he’s a sarcastic motherfucker who wouldn’t take Billy’s shit, plus he’s hot and his abs😍 I think Billy’s not apologised or done enough to earn her back yet but his hearts in the right place. Also frank taking her side was amazing I love it. Frank is such a gentleman I couldn’t see him letting billy treat a girl like shit

Also I saw your post about not feeling worthy and I wanted to say. You’re more than worthy and you’re so loved and appreciated on here. You’re not annoying and should never have to prove anything to anyone. If there are people in your life like that pls drop them or ignore them. You’re a wonderful person and you’re whole and worthy on your own. You do not need anyone validation or to prove anything. I hope one day you’re so surrounded by people who prove and show you it all the time but until then you need to be that person for yourself, it’s tough but please do even if you don’t believe it I promise you are and one day you will feel it too. I’m not exaggerating when I say your writing got me back into reading which In turn saved my life. Waiting for your updates and reading books the last year has kept me alive and made me feel so much less alone, somebody who’s selfless and as kind as you are deserves the absolute world 10 times over and I’m sorry you’ve felt like you deserve any less. Please take care do something nice for yourself today even if it’s just buying a coffee/cake or an extra 10 minutes in bed 💗

Of course Matt is Matt Murdock 😅 and some of that stuff you said does happen, but not exactly like that.

Billy definitely hasn't done enough, and even he knows it.

Maybe Billy sees Matt kissing her?

It's funny that you say i feel loved and appreciated on here when it's exactly here that I feel used more than anywhere else 😅 like, people read the fic, they like, ask for more constantly, but won't tell me i did good or why they liked it and it's definitely done a good number on me, destroying my self worth. I am new to this, writing and posting and I'm not sure how other writers manage to survive here, where all their works are undervalued, it's heartbreaking and I love them all for sticking through it.

I am surrounded by people that value me, I know that, but i guess I don't see any value in myself and that's the problem. But I know everyone tries to show me😅

Okay I had some ice cream on your behalf, so thank you kind baby 😘😘😘 I love you too for taking time out of your day to send me love.

[wonwoonlight]

dont feel too bad to want a little bit validation, it is very humane, especially after putting out ur heart and soul into ur pieces, and also it is not bad to try to not depend on validation, either way i just hope you are doing what YOU want to do

im sorry readers nowadays does not give feedbacks 😭😭 GOD validation or no, saying thank you for writing or a simple “this is good” is not hard 😭😭 they have to keep this platform alive to keep the writers going, so they can have contents???? otherwise, writers will write on their own document and not post it, bcs what is the point of POSTING THEN?

also, for me, i have been in reading slump lately and i keep on postponing on reading new fics and just end up reading the ones that i have read before, again and again- im sorry to not be able to add up your reblog and feedback like i always do (ps i love how you always interacts with everyone’s reblogs, so i always make sure to be extra in giving feedbacks to youu hehe) but i will make sure to run to your fics as soon as this lazy phase is gone 😭😭 until then, please do what YOU feel like doing even if taking rests from writing from time to time or speaking up about feedbacks! Also, supporting your journey to be a writer that does not want to depend on validation at the same time ❤️

Hello you😭😭 sorry for getting to this late I wanted to answer this when I have the time to sit down and type properly. First of all, thank you so much for validating me 😭 at some point i feel like I'm just like a kid whining over and over again and, like I've said before, I might even sound borderline ungrateful. After all, who even asked me to write?

Sometimes I think: should I be thankful of the fact that these ppl are reading alrd? And i am. I really am. But is it too much to ask for me to want to hear what my readers have to say or feel after reading my works? And you're absolutely right, honestly I dont expect ppl to tell me paragraphs long of what they think abt my fic, even keyboard smash would be very appreciated😭 i honestly just want to know that ppl enjoyed it.

Also, I totally understand you abt the reading slump. I dont think I can read seventeen works anymore as I'm alrd too deep as a writer here 🥲🥲 like, I wouldn't be able to just read and enjoy anymore. My mindset as a writer is alrd instilled too deep for that😭😭 but anyhow, I also understand that sometimes you just dont have it in you to say something. Bc those days come to me too, but... I don't know perhaps I'm asking for too much😵‍💫

Thank you once again for dropping by and telling me this🤍🤍 pls do take your time and know that I appreciate you so much alrd for sparing your time to tell me this 🥰

[kingdumkum]

JUST YOUR HEART, IN EXCHANGE FOR MINE

✵ who? - kasey, kase, captain, cap, any pet name whatsoever - born pre-millennium, so legal in all 195 countries and seven seas - female, but comfy w/ any pronouns ✵ what? - mbti: infj-t - house (but valid): ravenclaw - star sign: virgo - college grad w an English degree - writer/editor -> available to beta upon request ✵ where? - current WRITING fandoms: aot bnha hq jjk om! tr - currently binging: blue lock (manga) A Court of Thorns and Roses trigun stampede (anime) ✵ when? - i've been writing my whole life, but just recently delved into fan-fiction--or rather, publishing fanfic. trying to use this as a platform to get over the fear of being perceived so i can, eventually, write and publish a book that might make it on the NYT best-seller list as all books seem to do these days ✵ why? - voted king of the beta (readers). give me more. let me put my English degree to use pls - i've always loved writing, but the fear of being known >>> the pleasure of sharing. slowly but surely, we're not only creating new adventures, but tagging along on others. ✵ how? - wanna chat but don't know how? dm's are OPEN, or you could always WISH ME A GOOD MORNING. ✵ ✵ ✵ LIKES ✵ ✵ ✵ Stardust ✵ The Picture of Dorian Gray ✵ gardening ✵ convincing myself i can complete DIY projects with no budget or tools ✵ Up ✵ Lord of the Rings, extended cut, director's edition ✵ ✦kenji✦ ✵ Boy In Space ✵ rainy days ✵ winter nights ✵ college football (SEC Nation whomp) ✵ mlb, nhl ✵ teen wolf ✵

✵ ✵ ✵ EXIT BUDDIES ✵ ✵ ✵ aot -> connie ✵ eren ✵ jean ✵ porco ✵ reiner ✵ sasha bnha -> dabi ✵ deku ✵ denki ✵ hanta ✵ hawks ✵ katsuki ✵ kiri ✵ shiggy ✵ shinsou csm -> aki ✵ denji ✵ power dc -> bruce ✵ clark ✵ dick ✵ jason ft -> gray ✵ laxus ✵ loke ✵ lucy ✵ natsu ff -> arthur ✵ benimaru ✵ shinra ✵ viktor ✵ vulcan ge -> kota ✵ licca ✵ lindow ✵ soma ✵ utsugi hq -> atsumu ✵ daichi ✵ kyoutani ✵ oikawa ✵ osamu ✵ tanaka ✵ tsukki ✵ ukai jjk -> maki ✵ megumi ✵ satoru ✵ sukuna ✵ toge ✵ yuuji ✵ yuuta om -> beel ✵ belphie ✵ mammon ✵ solomon se -> justin ✵ maka ✵ soul ✵ stein tr -> baji ✵ chifuyu ✵ hanma ✵ kazutora ✵ kisaki ✵ mikey ✵ mitsuya ✵ ran ✵ rin ts -> knives ✵ vash

[potterology]

fave dylb scenes bc I can't get over and I’m already rewatching and noticing little things heheee 

- first meeting outside the restaurant. ohh how I love how awkward yet endearing they both were when they finally introduced themselves to one another. rewatching it made me realize that JY was already smitten by SA since the start. (like literally since the start y'all!!! he didn't even know her yet and wanted to stop the car to get SA an umbrella and this was in the first ep!!)

- when JY switched coffee cups with SA bc she spilt her cup and he started drinking it so she can’t refuse even though he doesn’t like coffee. Like he just did it bc he was compelled to do so?? like dude what if she already drank from it??? This scene was so funny to me and I love it cuz I dont think SA is used to being the one taken care of like that so it was just v cute

- when the noona was trying to get them to talk banmal but SA was like oh noooo he’s a superstar. This was cute bc you can actually see that JY was disappointed. Also they keep sneaking peeks at each other lol cute fools 

- waiting for taxi scene- this was so freaking adorable. shows how considerate they both are for each other and it’s so freaking awkward when they both realized they were standing there waiting for each other to get a taxi- but like in the cutest way

- when they were both outside that restaurant and SA asked if JY enjoyed his performance at granny’s house and I think this was the first time someone asked our boy if he likes what he does for a living and you can just tell his heart went soft for her(same dude same)

- spontaneous non-date date. ohh I love the first time they ate together at that beer place. they really started to get to know each other there. the mood and how that scene was filmed was just chef’s kiss~~

- rehearsal room we should be friends scene. when homeboy transitioned from moonlight sonata to happy birthday, y'all knew it was over for SA- god damn I would have swoon over too

- by the river “I wanted to see you” scene- high key JY sucks at communicating but I love how he is just so taken by SA that he just flat out says he misses her and as soon as he says it he was almost shocked himself. so pure

- the midnight call. I MEAN. guys. guys. he wanted to just talk to her and ask her out but tried to be nonchalant about it. ahhh they literally portrayed the first stages of dating so well I'm goo for it !!!!!!

- first walk together in the walkway. this was just so adorable. the almost hand holding. the chemistry!! the shy smiles :’’’) 

- SA’s birthday when she thanked JY for just being there for her. I love how she quietly acknowledges him and it was such an intimate interaction between them. I replay that scene a lot in my head

- when he ran to SA to give her his signed CD. He was so worried about her he forgot about JK lmaooo. Also the fact the he validated her as a violinist when SA was at a very low point... I mean... boyfriend material ugh

- the scene when SA told JY every little thing he does concerns her and that she didn’t want to feel that way about him anymore. As soon as SA said that homeboy PANICKED!!! I don’t even think he knew how much he liked SA until she said that :’)

- the lunchroom scenes 1) when they were teasing each other and 2) when JY announced that they were dating lolol I love how stoic he normally is but for SA he becomes a softie hehe

-ice cream day date; lol when SA won’t let JY tie her shoelaces bc she didn’t want to fall for him lol ok girl

-night ice cream/ stairs date. y'all know already. shit was just adorable. SA going for the kiss. I melted with the ice cream

- when JY asked SA for her handkerchief!!! it’s such a small gesture but they both knew it had a special meaning and I love how it put SA over the moon. (Also let’s include all the other times we see JY actually use that handkerchief- especially after they broke up. like homeboy was holding on to it for his dear life bc it was the only thing he had of SA~~ my fragile heart!!) ps did we ever see SA get a handkerchief from him???? No??? Sbs give me that pls

- when MS was telling JY in the car that SA has only openly confessed liking two things in her life and one them was JY. He was so flustered and couldn’t hide his smile and dimples... bruhhhhh he was full on swoon. Also when JY heard SA say that she really likes JY like he was so proud of himself lmao he’s like “yeah my gf LIKES ME” lolol

- when the lovebirds fought who was gonna clean up the broken glass at JY apartment. I love loveee this one bc SA has been beaten down so much by everyone calling her talentless that she didn’t even consider how important her hands is to her as a musician. And JY being like honey ur a violist and a musician too- UR HANDS ARE PRECIOUS. This was just v touching. Again showing how JY has always considered SA as an equal despite all the shit people say about his gf. luv him :’)

-all the moments JY just stood by SA’s side and held her hand when she needed comfort. I love how he’s just there for her. His silent support was just enough. (One thing that would have been nice is if we saw SA do the same thing, I felt like the writers were almost there but just didn't go all the way which is a shame tbh)

- Their lil day trip to JY’s hometown. I like how JY was so open to SA here. When he proclaimed that he never felt “this way before”  I screamed!! It was at that moment you clearly knew as a viewer that JY never really loved JK. He might have he loved the idea of her, yes. But he never truly loved her the way he loves SA. And his realization of this in that particular episode just made me so so so happy

- Handholding in the bus scene. That shit was so freaking tender bc you can tell how content JY was. He was beyond smitten- homeboy was IN LOVE AT THIS POINT

- when JY dropped SA home. I mean everything about this scene really makes ur heart soft right?? How both of them were beaming? How SA feet probably hurt bc homegirl was wearing heels the whole day and walked another 30 min just so she can spend more time with JY? How she literally ran back to him and JY just had this impression watching her like “my gf is cute af”?? How SA said something along the lines of JY having somewhere to belong to now and you can tell this had a double meaning for him bc at this point he prob considered SA as his home..I was literally mush oh my god. 

-break up scene. I know, v painful- but this was a rare one in kdramaland where I actually thought it was necessary for them to split (still wish it was done earlier but alas I'll take it) It was a graceful and needed breakup. Also when JY pulled out that umbrella for her.... bish it was over for me

- SA’s recital. I MEAN HOW IN SYNC COULD THEY BE. I normally skip the musical performances whenever I watch dramas that are music related- but this show makes it so magical I simply could not. PEAAAKKK ROMANCE

- JY’s recital- when he played that last song I was a big mess cuz we all knew it was dedicated for SA :’’) (I listen to this piece all the time now and im so emo when I hear it bc like god WHEN)

- First I love you scene. JY just going for it and chasing his happiness without caring if SA might reject him. We love to see it

-Second I love you scene. YALL. YALLLLL the way JY just releases his breathe when SA said she can't be friends bc she loves him more than a friend will forever slay me. Kim min jae’s acting here was real good. I love how JY said I love you four times and just went for it. top kissing scene in a krdrama for me hehee 

- dubokki date. lmao at JY with the spicy level. just plain cute

-the quick side by side peek to JY new album in the last episode. the way it showed how their relationship evolved. how he signed it as “for my love song ah” BISH I WANNA DATE A MUSICIAN TOO NOW

- that lil scene where JY wrote SA’s name as the planner bc he knows she works just as hard as the musicians and deserves the recognition. get u a boy who will vandalize a program notice for u :)

- basically all the scenes at the end of ep 16. I wish all of them were longer. I wanted to see more of them dating and happy!!! But I just love how they are both so INTO each other and you can see how happy JY is bc he finally has that person back that understood him since the beginning and it makes you feel so warm knowing they’re each other’s support system ahhhh I love their love !!

- also just all the scenes that JY looks at SA lovingly ~~ which literally happened since ep 1 I mean they are literally heart eyes emoji for each other every time :’)) 

- oh oh OH special shout out to ep 11 when JY just can’t stop holding SA’s hands !! the way he does it is so freaking INTIMATE like if I can only describe how I feel whenever I see compilation gifs of that episode where JY just reaches out and holds SA’s hands so steadily and tightly...it’s literally the most heartwarming thing.. idek how to explain what I’m trying to convey but I just vibe with it so much?? it’s so intimate and romantic.. Kim min jae I will die 4 u my love

[doctorofmagic]

@aeris-the-sailor​ said:

AAAH OH MY STARS!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!!! And the fact that you took all those hours searching that last one issue by issue is greatly appreciated!!!

Truthfully, after someone said that people with mutism can’t be written, it got personal, which is partly why I’ve been so passionate to get the application as perfect as I can get it—citations and everything. I’ve been working on it non-stop for a week straight now, and I feel so lifeless and drained out :’) but there’s something about seeing someone else put a lot of effort into the character too that makes me feel valid and life-full again!!

So, sincerely, thank you. Thank you for the time you took to reply to my question. You didn’t need to put all the effort, but you did, and I appreciate it to the moon and back! You’re really great! :D I hope you have a splendiferous rest of the day/night <3

It’s always a pleasure and a personal hobby of mine, so it’s all fine ^-^ Thank you for sharing your reasons for rpging cloakie. If you need more info about the item, don’t hesitate to hit my inbox again! And please, take care! Comics can be draining, especially when it comes to research! Stay safe and have a marvelous day!

@the-enterprising-bookworm​ said:

I relate to Stephen falling in love too easily when someone attractive is kind and open with him 😅 pls don't let him end up hurt again...

GOOD LORD HE LOOKS STUNNING! The stray wavy locks over his forehead in the first panel I can't 😭 and Carol looks gorgeous as well

I relate to the fact that “we shouldn’t get too involved” and then “ok 🤡”. You’re not alone aishdaodhohoad and yes????????????? Jacobo’s Stephen is my new favorite Stephen of all times. I spent years trying to figure out which face fit him best. He did it. I’m so aaaaaaa in love with his art. It’s not even fair.

@wavy-arms​ said:

It's such a rollercoaster! There is so much drama. He deserve to be happy, but this thing with Carol...? I love it so much, but it's doomed! I know it in my heart. 😭

They won’t allow our boi to be happy... *sobs*

@circusofmagik​ said:

I have the same impression. I thought Carol was going back to Rhodees and what happened with Stephen was a one night thing. But now, my dear Stephen looks so happy, so cute, so perfect....for getting his heart broken again. I won't be able to see him suffer again . What is it with writers who don't want to see him in love? Or will Carol stay with Stephen? But I see it unlikely because of her strong connection to Rhodees. AAAAAAAAAA I don't know, I just want to give him a hug

Let’s all get together and give him a very comfy hug because he deserves the world (I’m not crying, you are!!!)

@writingismydivision​ said:

I- this is so bad for Stephen. Can they just let him be happy?

Apparently not?????????????????????????? I’m ready to riot. We ride at dawn.

@danversmaximoff (can’t tag you, sorry) said:

I know more of Stephen's characterization through the mcu, as I am admittedly reading this as a Carol fan. I knew he's had romance before, namely Clea. But I didn't expect him to be so... tender? Idk if that's the right word but your analysis of him is spot on and I came to your blog after I read it! I agree that it seems like he's already in love,  but I can't help but feel like it'll end with him hurt. Did you think his justification for not teaching her magic was justified

Hi, there! Well, since I’m a Stephen hardcore stan, I’ll try my best to summarize all this angst in a few words (and fail, watch me).

You’re absolutely right. He’s still in love with Clea (in canon, btw) and could never forgive himself for pushing her away. It’s complicated, canon has some divergences but if you’re interested, I can offer some links about them. He has always been tender and gentle, especially when he’s hopelessly in love. This is why I hate his 2012 personification in which he is portrayed as a dog. Old school!Stephen is all about kindness and passion. Love is a very important trait for his whole characterization. He has flaws, of course. And still, he’s one of the most lovely male characters in Marvel. And I do not take it lightly because it’s true!

He’s also very sensitive because of magic but full of insecurities and fears, which makes him a very lonely person who constantly struggles with guilt and pain.

Since Clea left, he never really found someone to take her place. He keeps failing and failing. So when Carol showed up and offered some kind words, of course he desperately tried to hold onto her. The more he lives alone in the Sanctum (and he’s truly alone in current days because both Wong and Zelma left him), the more he sinks into his own intrusive thoughts. Carol was the first light he saw, even though he knows he’s not supposed to grow feelings for her.

And about magic? It’s really complicated. Magic has a cost. The moment you open your third eye, there’s no turning back. You’ll perceive the world differently. You’ll be forever connected to the fluid energy that binds mystic beings all together. It’s a burden. So it’s only natural that Stephen doesn’t want to teach her magic. It’s not an easy task. It demands sacrifice and compromising. Stephen only taught people who was touched by magic before (i.e., Magik, Doom, Voodoo). When he decided to open Zelma’s third eye without her consent in order to save her life, Wong was completely against it because he would sentence her to a very harshy life.

It seems that Kelly preferred to portray him as a patronizing sorcerer instead of someone who’s worried about the implications behind magic. But I strongly believe that magic is indeed something quite dangerous. This is why there are so few sorcerers in the Marvel Universe. In that sense, yes, I believe it was justified.

Overall, I think he’s already hurting. And it really breaks my heart because, as we’ve seen, he’s very kind and gentle. He deserves better :(

[rlmfanfic]

hewwo, i posted a new mike fic and would like you to read it and validate me pls (insert heart emoji here)

Oh that's WONDERFUL!!!

Everyone! Go read this story! It Ain't Easy by sleaze_em on A03! It's SO delightful! Just a fun, erotic romp with one of my all-time favorite versions of Mike Stoklasa:

❤️😍 Quarantine Mike 😍❤️

Gettin' playfully slapped on the ass by Salt-and-Pepper Mike? Don't mind if I do.

The story is super sexy and the author has a really lovely writing style. GO READ IT! Leave a comment, give a kudos. Support your local smutty fanfic writers!

(Oh! And I really enjoyed the story, anon! I hope you are feeling validated! 😜)

[homebody-nobody]

touch me someone

HIIIII it’s your favorite fic writer back from the dead with TWO whole fics real close together maybe I’ll finally become a consistent publisher?!? we can dream. Anyway. JJ and Kiara are my new Bellamy and Clarke I guess so enjoy this VERY angsty smutty hurt/comforty poetic nonsense the idea for which would not leave my brain til I wrote it. Please for the love of god read this bc I actually kind of love it and need validation or concrit or literally any feedback at all bc my none of my irl friends like this show so pls interact/comment 

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

ao3

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

He pulls away from her, and his eyes are wide but dry as his chest heaves. He looks wild, uncaged and raw, the moonlight turning his blond hair white and his blue eyes into pools of silver. Tragedy and shock have destroyed him, the chains he’d wrapped around his brash, heedless, unending want twisted into shards by an explosion of hurt and grief. He has always been the victim, the boy left behind in empty rooms with nothing but loss and bloody fragments, told to piece himself back together. Finally, they’ve taken the last thing. When he told John B they had nothing to lose, they still had each other. And now, he doesn’t even have that.

But she’s still here.

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

Touch me someone 

I’m too young to feel so

numb, numb, numb, numb 

You could be the one to 

Make me feel somethin, somethin. 

The Phantom went down around 8:30 PM. Or maybe 10:30. Kiara doesn’t remember. She only knows that the hours between then and now have felt like a lifetime and also no time at all. Like she’ll turn and John B will be there, behind her shoulder, laughing at something JJ said, Sarah hanging off his arm; but also like the world is dark and will be dark and has been dark forever. Like the sun will never rise after this. Like the storm took the light and heat from the world just like it took her best friend. 

Later, she’ll learn that John B’s official time of death is listed as 8:34 PM, when they stopped trying to establish radio contact with him and Sarah. Later, she’ll watch news stories about the manhunt for Rafe Cameron and the scandal of Ward Cameron’s property being left to his second wife, rather than his remaining daughter. Later, she’ll get an email from an internet cafe in Bermuda and her whole world will flip upside down one more time. 

But now, she is laying in her four-poster bed, watching the ceiling fan lazily trawl the same, tired circle, listening to the pull-chain tap not-quite-silently against the glass fixture. Now, her hair still damp from the shower that her mother made her take, eyes stinging from sharp wind and tears not yet shed, the inside of her mouth shredded and sore from the hours she spent chewing on her lips, the world is too quiet, too peaceful. The crickets outside sing soft and gentle, just like they have every night her whole life, and the texture of her comforter, the quiet harmony of the night, the soft click and whoosh of the fan -- it all feels so chokingly familiar, like spiralling back down to earth after spending weeks dipping in and out of orbit. 

She wants to scream until her throat is raw, sob and fight and unleash herself on every single adult that hurt John B, that brushed him off or refused to help or wouldn’t listen to him. She wants to gut Ward Cameron for ripping everything away from John B, first his father, and then the gold that was his by right. The gold that was theirs. She wants to rip off Rafe’s skin piece by piece until he’s in shreds at her feet. She wants to eviscerate his father with the same gaff hook he used to rip apart those two mainlanders and ruin John B’s life. She’s so full of hurt and grief and anger that her fists keep clenching white-knuckled in her blankets and she wants to bring down the sky itself. But at the same time, she’s haunted by that same emptiness that followed her after Sarah’s childish betrayal, like she’s watching it all from the outside. 

She can’t sleep. She won’t. Sleep is just an escape, a place to forget, and she’ll have to wake up and remember what happened all over again, remember the rush of hope and the hours of adrenaline and apprehension that ended in a tragedy none of them could have ever predicted. What child foretells death? 

Rolling over, she presses her face into her pillow, smothering herself until her lungs force her to turn her head for air. She opens her eyes, no less heavier than they were hours ago. Her throat tightens like tears are about to well up, to spill over and stain her sheets, but they don’t come. Itchy and claustrophobic, she throws back the sheets and paces over the smooth boards of her room, bare feet making soft noises over the lacquered wood. She has to get out, to make sure that she didn’t dream up the whole goddamn thing. 

She dresses quickly, throwing on denim cutoffs and an old drug rug that cycled its way through at least two of the boys’ wardrobes before landing in hers. She doesn’t know where she’s going, doesn’t know what she needs, but she throws her wallet, her charger, a flashlight, and her water bottle in her beat up backpack, and, on second thought, a toothbrush and some deodorant. She picks up her keds and tiptoes down the stairs, avoiding the creaky eighth stair. 

The key rack is empty, and, chastising herself for believing her parents would leave the car keys out after everything she’d pulled in the last few days, she rocks on her heels, assessing her options. The most prudent one is probably just to go back to bed, given the usual risks of going out at night as a teenage girl, the massive punishment that looms in her future, and, now, the lack of a vehicle. But the thought of returning to her stale room, skin crawling and mind racing at a standstill, makes the decision for her. She slips out the back door, making sure to catch the screen door before it slams, and digs out her bike from next to the garage. The tires could use air and the gears are misaligned, but it still rides, and it’ll get her… somewhere else. 

Her original intention is to go to Pope’s house, mostly because it’s closest, but then she thinks about how she kissed him earlier that afternoon -- and God, was that just this afternoon? There’d be implications, now. Showing up in the middle of the night, throwing pebbles at his window -- it would mean something. So she stands up on the pedals and pushes past his street, floating like jetsam through the night. 

She ends up heading for the chateau, which is where she was going all along. After her family moved to the outskirts of figure eight just before high school, it was the only place that felt like home anymore. She cruises deep into the cut, where even the smell of the air changes, from freshly mowed grass and chlorinated in-ground pools to gasoline and oil, rotting seaweed and the salt marsh. 

The little house sits in the reeds, ramshackle and welcoming as ever, tired and reaching under the moon. It’s empty and forlorn, alone on the edge of the edge, out past the main cluster of the cut, pushed past the tideline, separated from the rest of the flotsam by a freak wave. The Routledge boys never fit in, even with the outcasts, and they made their home like they knew it. Skidding to a stop in the gravel driveway, the sting of tiny rocks against her bare ankles is the only thing she’s really felt in hours. Her heart picks up, skipping over itself as her memory stumbles over all the years seeping out of the wind-weathered boards and the sinking foundation. 

Again, it feels like this would be a moment for tears, like the sight of John B’s house, the memory of Big John’s booming laugh and all the bonfire-scented nights on that sagging porch should mean enough to make something in her crack, to finally shatter the glass walls of shock and let the grief come pouring in. But it doesn’t. She just stares up at the chateau, one part of her aching for the ease of a found family she’ll never get back, the other dreading the fate of the little house. 

The breeze changes directions as she stares up at the rickety shutters and holey screens, bringing with it the tinny sound of music played out of a cell phone in a solo cup, a noise she knows well. Her stomach drops to the hard-packed dirt, crashing there with her bicycle and sending up a cloud of dust. Maybe John B survived. Maybe he made it back to shore, and he’s laying low, doing that stupid, chivalrous thing he does, trying to protect them by not letting them know. Maybe he’s out by the shed in that old metal lawn chair, Sarah in his lap, exhausted and defeated and alive. But as she gets closer, the moonlight glints off tawny waves crusted with sweat and salt, and the momentary, wild hope crashes and ebbs away from the shore. 

JJ hears her, of course, sitting up in the hammock and turning toward the sound of her flat-soled sneakers slapping the dirt. “Hey,” he says, his expressive face, for once, inscrutable. 

“Hey,” she says, slightly out of breath from the sprint. “I thought you were…” she trails off, because he knows. Because he’s the only one in the whole world who can look at her and understand the cathedral dreams and vaulted memories crashing down in her chest. 

“I’m not,” he says, an answer that belies more than either of them knows. JJ gets this look, when he’s seconds away from doing something particularly concerning (and usually criminal). Manic energy lights up in his blue eyes, burning anywhere from mischief to stubborn determination to full-tilt rage. The well-developed muscles in his shoulders and arms refuse to relax, and his hands get so fidgety they lose the coordination it takes to flip the zippo lighter between long, practiced fingers. His face fights with itself, half already spitting with well-steeped anger, the other tired, and broken, and grieving. 

“I noticed,” she responds.  She drops her bag on one of the metal folding chairs, dooming it to a coating of flaky, faded paint. Crossing the grass, hoping her broad strides will disguise the rattling breath in her chest, the shake in her hands, she moves to sit next to him in the hammock, and he shifts his weight to allow her. 

There’s no verbal communication, no squabble about personal space or indignant demands she find her own seat. There never is, not with her boys. The Pogues. It seems so silly now, hiding behind that name for themselves, a name she’d never really belonged to, anyway. He’s holding a lit joint in one hand, a bottle dangling from the other, and he offers her one while swigging from the other. The old favorites of a Maybank in crisis. She takes it. 

He falls back next to her, sending the hammock swinging as he gazes up at the stars. Sarah had known the most about constellations, of the five of them, but JJ knows a fair amount, too, some of the only memories of his mother the nights when she would hold him under the stars, tracing the designs across the sky, her hand wrapped around his tiny one. His eyes keep drifting off the sky and landing on Kiara, eyes distant, bathed in moonlight. 

“He’s not dead,” JJ says, surprising himself as much as her. He sits up, and she follows. He stares at his feet for a while, and she thinks about putting her arms around him.  “I --” he picks his head up to look at her and stops, voice stolen by the hope in her eyes. “I’d feel it,” he finishes lamely, and watches the spark die. 

“The first stage of grief is denial,” she says, and it’s supposed to be at least slightly lighthearted, but it falls cruelly to the crabgrass. 

“You sound like Pope,” he counters, and there’s too much weight to that name to throw it around for long. They’re both thinking of Kiara kissing him, and the memory is pleasant to neither. 

She doesn’t really know why she did that. Maybe it’s because he’s everything she’s supposed to want, intelligence and ambition and ingenuity, everything she tells herself is important in a guy. Maybe because he’s in love with her. Maybe because she’s definitely in love with one of her best friends, and he’s the one who makes sense. She takes another hit and hands the blunt back to JJ. 

“I’d know,” he repeats, and she knows it’s not her he’s trying to convince. He lays back in the hammock, putting the blunt between his lips and dragging deep before tilting his head back and blowing the smoke into the tumultuous night. She looks back over her shoulder, watching his jaw and the movement of his throat as he exhales. Laying back next to him, she tries not to think about the warmth of his skin against hers, the strength of the body pressed to her side. It’s only JJ, the same reckless, stupid asshole who carried that damn pistol everywhere all summer and has a talent for getting into trouble. He’s not giving her butterflies with his proximity, and she’s not thinking about reaching down and lacing her fingers through his. 

Eventually, JJ flicks the roach into the darkness and stands as quickly as he can without tipping Kiara out of the hammock. She starts, not realizing she was dozing on his shoulder until it’s gone. “It’s late,” he says. 

She stands as well, tucking her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt as he kicks at the dirt. “I don’t --” she starts, and the hesitation makes him stop his nervous movement, meeting her eyes. “I don’t want to go home.” He opens his mouth to say something, but she interrupts him. “I can’t go home.” 

“Okay,” he says, after a second. He doesn’t want to be alone, either. She nods, and walks past him, picking up her bag. He follows her up to the house, and they stop at the foot of the stairs to the porch, staring at the buzzing light. JJ takes a stuttering inhale Kiara pretends not to hear, and he goes up the stairs first, wrapping a shaking hand the handle to the screen door. He pauses before going in, frozen, and it isn’t until she lays her hand on his shoulder that he summons the courage to push the door open. 

They knew the place was going to be tossed, but it still hurts Kiara and kills JJ, to see the overturned table and scattered papers, the couch cushions scattered on the floor and the coffee table flipped. He tries to shuffle backwards, to run from the sharp, fresh grief and the deep, familiar ache of loss and violation, but Kie is in the way, and when he turns to escape she catches him, her arms around his shoulders, his clutched around her waist. “I can’t --” he chokes, his face pressed to her neck, “It’s not --” his breath speeds up, his shoulders shaking. “They --” 

“I know,” she says, swallowing down tears, herself, in that same small voice from the night in the hot tub. She knew JJ was broken, on that deep, fundamental level that, intellectually, she could conceptualize, but she could never feel. But that night, seeing the bruises on his ribs, damning as fingerprints, the ghost of his pain, the whisper of breath knocked out and the brush of betrayal, turned her chest inside out. This feels the same way, watching him lose the last shred of some semblance of home to the same kind of mindless anger and selfish authority that claimed the first one. “I know.” 

He pulls away from her, and his eyes are wide but dry as his chest heaves. He looks wild, uncaged and raw, the moonlight turning his blond hair white and his blue eyes into pools of silver. Tragedy and shock have destroyed him, the chains he’d wrapped around his brash, heedless, unending want twisted into shards by an explosion of hurt and grief. He has always been the victim, the boy left behind in empty rooms with nothing but loss and bloody fragments, told to piece himself back together. Finally, they’ve taken the last thing. When he told John B they had nothing to lose, they still had each other. And now, he doesn’t even have that. 

But she’s still here. “Kie…” he breathes. She opens her mouth to reassure him again, but then his hands are on her face and he’s kissing her, deep and rough and desperate. She bursts into flame underneath him, paralysis broken, stupefaction overcome, as the glass walls she’s been watching through crack and shatter at her feet. JJ’s hands wrap around the back of her neck and spread across the small of her back, pushing her up against the door, and she twists her hands into his shaggy, sun-streaked hair. Every desperate question is met with his touch, and she chases it, even as he pulls away in horrified shock. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, Kie, I’m so sorry --” He tries to shove himself away from her at the instant she curls her fists in his shirt, and it almost rips as she pulls and he slams back into her. Teeth clash and noses bump and it’s not perfect or soft or loving, but passion born from desperation and terror of what it would mean to stop. Putting his hands on the door on either side of her face, he pushes himself off of her, even as she tries to yank him back. “What are we doing?” he asks, in a voice that won’t like the answer. 

“JJ,” she gasps, pushing her fingers back up to tangle in blond, salt-sticky waves. “Shut up.” Pulling his mouth back down on top of hers, she gasps into him as his hands come down and frame her ribs, one of his arms sliding around her waist and the other pushing back up into her hair. 

“Don’t you think --” he tries, even as he leans over her, their breathing ragged, his knuckles white in her impossibly soft curls. His forehead is pushed to hers and he can’t pull away any farther, sucked into her gravitational field, helpless to it. 

“I don’t want to think,” she insists. “I want this, I need this,” This momentary pause is already too long, and if he stops kissing her, stops touching her, the tears she’s been holding back will crash over her and they won’t stop. The dark room is loud with heavy breathing as she catches the scent of him, salt and sweat and smoke. “I need you.” 

His grip falters and the momentary relaxation has her pressing herself against him. “Are you sure?” he asks, and this is a choice, now. This isn’t something that either of them can pawn off as a mistake made in the heat of a desperate moment. He wants this, has wanted it, ever since he met her, but he won’t be a decision half-made, won’t take advantage of vulnerability only to become a regret. He’s giving her a way out, knows her pragmatic nature and her anxious need for well-thought plans. He wants her to think, even if she’s desperate not to. 

He’s right, when he almost never is, but she knows that if she waits too long or lets in the doubt that expects her, she will break. “JJ,” she gasps, “Please.” His name, she knows, he can’t resist, not when paired with urgent pleading, and in this way, she makes her choice. He surrenders to her. 

They fall onto the creaky pullout, still set up from JJ’s most recent stay, not minding the sheets and blankets wrought asunder by the angry police search. He can’t let go of her, his hands pushing up her sweatshirt, dragging over her sides and up her thighs, tangling in her hair like he’s drinking her in with his touch, intoxicated with the smell of peach in her hair and the taste of sweat on her skin. Kiara lets herself get lost in him, ride the wave of desire pushing through her, moans and gasps when he hits the right spots and closes her eyes as he lifts her shirt over her head and attaches his lips to her neck, his hands finally coming up to cover her tits, and the long careful fingers she’d spent so many afternoons watching prove adept at twisting and pinching her nipples and leaving her begging for him. 

She almost rips his t-shirt off, pulling his bare chest against her own and letting the feeling of skin on skin light her up, setting fireworks off behind her eyelids. Wrapping one hand around the arm holding him up, she can feel his teeth on her neck, and she knows he’s leaving marks, and, for once, it doesn’t feel like she’s being claimed. She knows what it is -- proof this is happening, that they’re alive and feeling and crashing together again and again. She sinks her nails into his bicep as his fingers skim below the waistband of her shorts, and feels him smirk against her lips. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and the teasing in his voice is tortuous and reminiscent of his old, humorous self, just enough to make her sad for a moment, and when she nods quickly in return, it’s a bid to forget that sadness. His fingers flick open the button of her shorts and as his fingers dip lower, the only thing she can think about, the only thing she can feel, is his touch, his all-consuming presence, radiating heat. The bastard takes his time, her only gratification the press of him against her hip, hot and hard. He teases her through her underwear, and she can’t say she doesn’t enjoy it, arcing into his touch, shocks of pleasure building in incredible anticipation, but he’s going too slow, and he’s wearing too many clothes, still, and the intense want gnawing at her has too much potential to turn into grief. 

“Would you just --” she grunts against his mouth, cut off on a moan as he presses his fingers against her clit. “Fucking -- ah,” he works slow, hard, circles, enjoying himself as she tries to form sentences with his hands on her. “Fuck me already!” Because even this can’t be easy, not between the two of them. Because she’ll always be fighting with him, even with her bare chest pressed against his and his hand down her pants. 

JJ grins, scraping his teeth over her ear. “What,” he says, still teasing, still bittersweet, as he finally pushes his hand into her underwear, “aren’t you enjoying this?” Slowly, much too slowly, his fingers part the lips of her cunt, pressing down over her clit before finding the wetness further down. JJ practically growls as his middle finger dips between her folds and he finds her soaked, dropping his forehead against the forearm braced above her head. “Fuck, Kie,” he moans, and he can’t disguise the wasted crack in his voice. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” He’s already drunk on her, every new sensation dragging him deeper.  

“Your fault,” she stutters as he puts his hands, lean and strong and practiced, to good use, dragging slick fingertips back up to her clit and teasing small circles, rough, calloused skin creating delicious friction. And this -- this is what she was so desperate for, to feel only his touch and the way he pushes her higher, closer to an edge far away from the bleak grief of their every day world. He moans, too, as he dips his middle finger into her and she keens into his mouth, and she’s not thinking anymore, only chasing heat and skin and pleasure, the rest of the night foggy and distant, moonlit and blurred. 

She doesn’t even know how much time passes before he’s kissing his way down her body, only that he’s fucked her so well with his hands he has three fingers inside her and she’s asking for more. He pulls his hand away and she lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched noise at the loss of contact, only to end on a gasp when she opens her eyes to see that he has his fingers curled around the waistband of her shorts and his face is hovering near her hips, pupils blown wide as he looks up at her. He asks her something, but blood rushes in her ears as her heart pounds and her chest heaves and it isn’t until his tongue darts out to wet his lips that she realizes what he’s saying. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” she whines, and it feels like less than instant before her shorts are on the floor and his head is between her legs, his tongue on her clit, and she screams, pushing her hands into his hair as his mouth launches her higher and keeps her there, wave upon wave crashing over her until her legs are shaking, and when she feels the pull deep in her stomach and he takes half a second to breathe, she has enough presence of mind to yank him back up, slamming his lips down onto hers, tasting herself there. 

“Inside me,” she gasps, ragged and raw and scraping. “Now.” 

“But you haven’t --” he breathes, and she reaches down, shoving past the waistband of the shorts he’s still wearing, her hand on his cock stopping him dead. 

“Now,” she repeats. And then, leans up to kiss him, slightly softer than before, as if in apology for being so rough, but more as a distraction as her hands unbutton his shorts and shove them down his thighs, her hands finding him again and stroking his cock until he’s gasping into her mouth. “Unless,” she says between short kisses, trying to keep her tone light, even as her cunt aches for him. “You changed your mind?” 

He scrambles out of his shorts and boxers so fast it’s almost funny, but the laugh falls out of her chest as he braces his forearms on either side of her face, pushing her hair back from her forehead and looking at her so carefully it almost hurts. “I don’t have a condom,” he says, uncharacteristic worry trembling in his voice. 

“I’m clean,” she says, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair once more, to ground her, and disguise their shaking. “You?” 

He nods. “What about --” 

“I have an IUD,” she says, more grateful than ever for her liberal mother and her own presence of mind. 

He licks his lips again, eyes dropping to her mouth before flicking back up to her eyes. “Last chance,” he says, like she’s going to change her mind and push him off of her, run off into the night and leave him here, disgraced and embarrassed. “Still sure?” he asks, like he’s expecting her to say no. She nods without hesitation, caught in his blue eyes, turned cobalt in the half-light. He kisses her one more time, and it’s laden with years of things he hasn’t said, and she surges up with urgency, not ready for the tenderness in his touch. JJ tries to slow her down again, to revel in the moment of bare skin and vulnerability, no matter how guarded it may be, but she reaches down, wrapping her hand around his dick, guiding him closer to her, and he’s falling into her touch, into her orbit, helpless. 

She draws him inside her, his forehead dropping to her shoulder with a forsaken, heavy breath. It’s too soft, this moment before he moves, too easy to break, every sense on fire. The air is too close to her skin, too tight around her arms, like she could rip the fabric of it with the barest movement. She wants to be lost in him again, to feel separate, far away and floating above herself, not so torturously in her body, JJ trembling and present above her. “JJ,” she says, opening her eyes to find his, a split-second mistake, the next word hitching on its way out of her chest. “Move.” 

He does, mercifully lowering his face to press against her neck, the eye contact too substantial, too burdensome to hold. The bubble surrounding them expands as he works her up to that blissful edge with ease, his mouth letting out a stream of filthy words about how good she feels surrounding him. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head back, letting her hands have free reign over his back, his shoulders, his arms and up into his hair, every place she wants to touch him when she watches his ridiculous muscles ripple under his young, tan skin. He shifts his weight, hooking her knee over his hip so his cock hits exactly the right spot with every thrust, and she cries out, racing higher. 

She should have expected that JJ likes to run his mouth -- she only catches parts of what he’s saying, things like ‘so fucking hot’ and ‘sound so fucking good’ and ‘so fucking wet for me’ and as her moans increase in pitch and volume, he growls “c’mon, Kie, cum for me,�� and she falls apart. He fucks her through the aftermath and she barely knows what noises are coming out of her mouth, her nails digging angry welts in his back. Just when she thinks she can’t take anymore, he tenses and spills inside her on a half-broken sigh. 

Her vision sharpens as he rolls off of her, collapsing on the squeaky bedsprings, and the house is too quiet all of a sudden, the air once again too close. Her breath slows, the sweat cooling on her skin in the soft breeze pushing through the wooden walls, the still-open front door. Neither of them says anything, and Kiara can feel him looking at her, his blown out smile too loud in the fallout. She sits up, almost flinching at the light touch of his fingers on his spine when he picks up a strand of her hair. “I’m gonna pee,” she says, finding her underwear and pulling them on, and then, after half a moment, pulling his discarded t-shirt over her head. 

Her head echoes as she steps over the scattered mess to get to the bathroom, like she’s walking through a tunnel. Her legs ache and tremble, and she wraps her arms around herself, numb and falling. She fights tears as she washes her hands. The bathroom is, as always, a deplorable mess, products everywhere and hair all over the sink. Her green bikini top is still on the floor from when she’d forgotten it just the other day, and that girl feels impossibly far from the one staring at herself in the mirror, wearing her best friend’s shirt while he’s naked in the next room. There’d be shame, and guilt, too, if the smell of John B’s deodorant didn’t choke her with overwhelming loss. Bracing her hands on either side of the sink, she can’t hold it back anymore, and sobs spill out of her, harsh and echoing in the small space. 

JJ is behind her an instant, half-dressed in basketball shorts and drawing her into his arms, tucking her close to him, her tears hot on his skin. “He’s gone,” she whimpers. “He’s really gone.” He doesn’t say anything, just guides her back to the pullout and straightens the blankets enough for her to fall in. She curls up on her side, crying so hard she can’t breathe, and he climbs in across from her, pushing one arm under her neck and using the other to pull her against him, his lips pressed to her forehead. 

Tears leak out of his own eyes, silent and soft to her earth-shattering grief. “It’s gonna be okay,” he reassures her, fighting the quiver in his own voice, his chin shaking with the effort of it. He stares into the empty darkness above her head, every jerk of her prone body another crack in his breaking heart. “He’s coming back,” he says, more to himself than her. “He’s coming back to us.” 

When she finally quiets down, the betrayal of dawn is beginning to lighten the sky, the moon fading, and the idea of this night being over feels impossible. For a short while, they breathe each other in, her forehead pressed to his collarbones, his hand trailing up and down her spine. Her head aches and her eyelids fall heavy over gritty, exhausted eyes, but she still fights sleep, stubbornly resisting another day, the beginning of a life without John B and Sarah. “I can’t stay here,” she says, finally, pushing back from him. “I should go home.” 

He reaches up to catch her chin as she watches her hands curled close to his chest, reluctant to go. “Kie,” he murmurs, lifting her gaze to meet his. He moves forward to kiss her, and she flattens her palms against his skin, stopping him even as her eyes fall to his lips. 

“JJ,” she says, an exhale more than his name. “We -- I mean, I --” 

“Shit,” he sighs, and it almost sounds like a laugh, formed from expectations he wished hadn’t come true. “Okay.” His eyes flutter close, and she watches him draw back into himself, close all the doors, like he wants to turn off the lights and pretend he’s not even here. But then, he looks at her again, gently smoothing a curl behind her ear. “It’s just --” he starts, and inhales again, wetting his lips as he struggles to keep his eyes on her deep brown ones. “Can we go back to normal tomorrow?” Her eyebrows push together a fraction of an inch, and he focuses on the wrinkle there, a thousand times easier than holding her gaze. “Please,” he says when she inhales to say something. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

It’s the first time either of them have been completely honest all night, and the most he’s said in hours. “Yeah,” she says, agreeing without thinking. Making it about him instead of admitting to herself that she wants to stay, that she doesn’t want to be alone either. “Yeah, okay.” She allows herself to be kissed, to be held and kept softly. JJ twists his fingers in her curls, skims his lips over her hairline before pressing his forehead against hers. 

He tucks his hand against the side of her neck, his fingers spanning from her ear to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright,” he promises, and they both pretend he’s saying it to her. She’s seen JJ cheerful and stubborn, breaking and angry, seen him a thousand different ways. But never like this, kind and soft, quiet in the grey, grieving dawn. Eventually, she falls asleep under his touch and reassuring whispers. 

The morning is just as sticky and unforgiving as every other that summer, and she wakes up damp and sticky with sweat. JJ is stretched out on his stomach, arms tucked under his head, mouth slack and hair falling over his eyes. Her head still hurts, and now so do her back and thighs, and she stretches her hand out across the rumpled sheets, tracing the red lines she’d left down his back. He blinks awake, closing his mouth and freezing when he feels her touch on his skin. 

“Hey,” she murmurs. 

“Hey,” he replies.

She waits for him to say something, but he just watches her, his clear blue eyes unflinching. She bites her lip. “I should get home,” she says, keeping her eyes on the knuckle tracing over his back, his gaze too heavy to hold. 

“Yeah,” he says, “okay.” Neither of them move. The world waits on a hair trigger, and JJ’s more familiar with this kind of silence than she is. She wants him to break it first, to be the impulsive hothead he always is, to make the choice for both of them. But he doesn’t, and the moment crumbles, and she sits up and goes in search of her clothes. 

He doesn’t say anything until she stoops to pick up her bag, sweatshirt in hand, ready to shove it into the biggest pocket. “Kie,” he says, and she stops dead, looking up at him. She doesn’t know what she wants him to say, but she deflates anyway when he just asks “my shirt?” 

She’d forgotten she was wearing it. Pulling it off, she feels his hungry eyes trace up her bare chest as she untangles the drug rug before pulling it down and arranging it around her hips. She tosses him the shirt, and he holds her gaze as he flips it right side out and tugs it on. They stand on either side of the disheveled living room, daring the other person to say something, move, do anything first. He knows what he wants, what he can’t have, what he’s convinced himself he never will. She remembers the line she drew, the boundary she’d very clearly set. He chooses to respect it while she waits for him to break the rules.

Birds sing in the unflinching morning, and a breeze stirs the hair around her face. She slings her backpack over her shoulder. The sun blazes as gulls call and waves lap against the dock. He tilts his chin back, like he always does just before a fight. She turns to go.

[ohcheri]

— 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 (◕ᴗ◕✿)

hello there, my little bumblebees! maría, here. first and foremost, happy new year's eve; i hope you're having a great day/night wherever you are, and if not, i hope tomorrow goes better for you.

i've seen lots of people do this and thought that it was really cool, 'cause even in a year as messy as this one, we still made meaningful connections and found little things that made us happy. so, i decided to jump on the boat too, and write this little thank you letter.

i wanna give a huge, an ENORMOUS thank you to everyone who decided to join me on this crazy ride and follow me. i don't know what you guys saw in me; i'm certainly not the best writer, nor i am consistent, my editing skills are non-existent, and i can't for the life of me decide on a theme. nonetheless, all of you stayed and continuously showed me your love by liking and reblogging my stuff, and for that, i am extremely grateful.

to all the people who sent me cute messages and made me feel comfortable in a community that, at first, to be completely honest, terrified me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. you guys are rays of sunshine that warm my heart and make me want to happy dance all around the house.

now, my special five-star mentions go to: @spookybias (i luv u, my sweet honey bun ♡) @softbbyg0rl (lots of kithes & hugs for you, opal ☆) @chauhee (we haven’t talked in a while, A, but you’re one of my best moots and i wuv u ♡) @tyunclub (koko, you’re just a delight, a lil angel, and i heart you very much ♡) @sunoo-luvs (in this house we adore and appreciate zaara. ok?!? ok ღ)  → pls, accept some sparkles and a flower as a gift ✿*:･⋆ヽ( ◕ω◕*)/

again, thank you to everyone for being so respectful and kind, it means a lot to this ol’ bumblebee! i promise i'll try to better my tumblr game for next year, and i hope that this can continue to be a safe place where we can gather to simp over our favorite k-pop groups. always remember: you're important, you're valid, and you're loved. take care, and may the new year throw sweet things our way!