#this is vaguely inspired by ray - thanks ray

[moths-in-hats]

moodboard: scott x lydia

Scott goes missing. Lydia looks for him.

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ I COULDN'T BE MORE IN LOVE

small gestures of affection with itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, and kamo choso

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), some of these don't really fit the prompt but whatever lol, cw for mentions of blood/injuries in megumi and choso's, inspired by this prompt list by @euthymiaaa not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from the 1975 - i couldn't be more in love

“yuuji,” your voice cuts through the chaos swirling throughout ITADORI YUUJI’S mind effortlessly. he freezes, swiftly turning on his heel to face you. you softly smile as you take a step closer to him, gesturing to the mess of fabric messily woven into itself. “do you need some help?”

“yeah,” yuuji nods, tugging at his tie until it falls flat against his chest once again. “some help would be nice.”

taking the fabric into your hands, you weave the ends together to form a small knot near the center of yuuji’s chest. carefully, you slide it upwards until it sits snugly at the center of yuuji’s neck. “you’ve never had to wear a suit before, have you?”

“i’m sorry,” he nervously chuckles. he unconsciously raises a hand, absentmindedly brushing a hand through the little hairs near the nape of his neck. “i’ve never had a reason to dress up before.”

you simply chuckle in response, reaching up and attempting to smooth away the wrinkles in the fabric. your fingertips trace the edges, hiding away any loose threads or imperfections from the tailoring. “it’s alright. i don’t mind.”

you reach upwards, caressing his cheek with your thumb. your fingertips brush against the edges of the small curse marks beneath his eyes, making yuuji smile brightly. “you look really nice, yuuji.”

a light flush spreads across his face, tinting his face a deep pink. he smiles softly, replying, “but not as good as you.”

“you’re awake.” 

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI softly groans, squinting up at the ceiling above as the blurriness slowly begins to clear from his vision. he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before the ringing in his ears dissipates, leaving only the quiet hum from a nearby fan to fill the silence. 

the first thing megumi notices is your eyes. if he didn’t know any better, he would have missed the eyebags that he could’ve sworn weren’t there this morning and the slight nervous shake in your hands when you reach over to pass him a bottle of water. guilt settles into the pit of his stomach before he can will it away. “what happened?”

“a curse hit you into a wall. ieiri said it was a severe concussion.” megumi nods. reaching up, he carefully brushes a hand against the bandages wrapped tightly around his forehead. he can still vaguely taste the blood that filled his mouth after the injury. “don’t worry. i took care of the curse.” 

“thank you.” he sighs, carefully pushing his body to sit upwards. “i’m sorry i worried you.”

megumi’s breath catches in his throat when you reach over, taking his hands into your own. blood rushes to his cheeks, spreading an embarrassingly obvious flush across his features. butterflies swarm throughout his stomach in waves as your fingertips trace along the fresh bruises staining his pale skin before you settle for intertwining your hands together. “i’m just glad you’re safe,” you smile, sealing your promise with a soft squeeze.

GOJO SATORU awakens to the sight of sunlight threatening to break through the closed blinds. rays of light illuminate your bedroom, casting a golden glow across your features. he groans as he rolls onto his side, stretching out his tired limbs beneath the covers. 

your quiet chuckle from beside him breaks him out of his trance. satoru blinks the sleepiness away from his eyes as he shifts, moving to face in your direction. stray strands of white hair frame his sharp features. your gaze the jagged edges of the few scars that litter his bare chest, admiring the aspects that make him human.

without the usual blindfold covering his face, your gaze rises to meet satoru’s. his eyes are the colour of the ocean. the shine like gemstones - brilliant and blue. you reach upwards, carefully carding your hand through his bangs. the strands are soft against your skin as you weave them in between your fingertips; he sighs as your nails gently massage against his scalp. “good morning, satoru.”

under the safety of your comforter, satoru allows the weight of the world to slip off of his shoulders. he smiles softly, shuffling across the sheets to entangle your bodies together. his hands skim the hem of his stolen t-shirt; his fingertips threaten to slip beneath the fabric to ghost against your bare skin. he leans in, pressing a feather-light kiss against your cheek as he wraps his arms around you. “morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

KAMO CHOSO can feel the gentle burn of ice against his fingertips as he carefully holds the ice pack against your face. hues of purple and green bloom against your cheek, staining your skin with the temporary consequences of being too headstrong in a fight. dark, worried eyes meet your own when he looks up. “for what?”

you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, anxiously chewing on the flesh until choso takes your hand into his own. he unconsciously rubs his thumb against your knuckles, tracing the scars decorating your skin - a gentle reminder to relax before your teeth cause a new wound. “being stubborn. dragging you into the fight. not waiting for backup.”

choso’s lips quirk into a slight frown. “i’m not upset at you,” he begins. you flinch slightly when he adjusts the angle of the ice pack until it presses against a fresh area of the bruise. the shake in his hands is unmistakable when he brushes his fingertips against the edge of your jaw. “it… worries me,” he mumbles. his gaze has fallen, now staring at the bandages woven tightly around your bicep. his anxiety had provided enough positive energy to prevent any serious injuries, but you still needed stitches after he dragged you into the safety of shoko’s office. “when you’re reckless. your body isn’t as easy to heal as mine is.”

“i’m sorry i worried you.” you reach up, pulling choso’s hand away from your face. “i’ll be more careful next time.” you toss the ice pack to the side; choso’s cheeks flush when you press a feather-light kiss against his knuckles. “thank you.”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[kurikive]

CASUAL | danielle marsh.

— "is it casual now?"

6thmember!reader, situationship/fwb but nothing sexual, angst, fluff at the end i promise, dani swears, reader is a (closeted) lesbian, reader is horrible at reading people, written in 2nd person, they work it out on the remix

warnings : A LOT of internalized homophobia !! reader refers to herself multiple times as a predator but it's just from fear and insecurity, nothing actually predatory is happening in the story. extremely brief mentions of starvation

wc: 5.4k words

inspired by: Casual — Chappell Roan

you and danielle marsh are friends. more than co-workers, you're friends. although you don't have that much in common except for your age, it was easy to adapt to the harsh environment of the k-pop industry's training system with someone like danielle by your side.

she's always been a ray of sunshine in everyone's lives, you're not the exception. if you were in a bad mood, tired from waking up in the early morning everyday, worked to the point of exhaustion, danielle would be there rubbing your shoulders and saying something sweet like

"you're doing great, y/n! keep up!"

and then you'd smile at her, and she'd smile back, and you'd feel so much better, thanks to danielle.

you didn't have many interests in common. music taste, fashion sense, movie picks, food preferences, personality types, if anything you were almost her complete opposite. and yet, she sat in your bed every night while you scrolled on your phone, talking for hours until it the clock hits midnight and she goes back to her room.

danielle did most of the talking, and you carefully listened to everything she said. the enthusiasm in which she enunciated all her words was endearing to listen to, and it couldn't not bring a smile out of you. the girl never forgot to give you your chance to speak too, trying to get to know you better everyday.

there was one thing she could not know, however. that you're a lesbian.

if it was hard enough being gay in korea, it was ten times harder when you were about to debut in a girl group, in one of the biggest companies in the industry at the moment nonetheless.

there were times where the members would all gather and have girl talks, talking about things like movies, celebrity crushes, past boyfriends and all that stuff, and you felt left out every single time.

sometimes it's more a curse than a blessing that danielle notices everything, because when she asks, "who's your celebrity crush, y/n?", "what do you look for in a boy, y/n?", "have you ever had a boyfriend, y/n?", you never know how you're supposed to respond.

it wasn't safe. it'll never be safe.

you've known the girls for almost a year and there has never been an indication of the way they felt about the LGBTQ+ community. hanni was your safest bet, she seemed the most open minded, but then again you can never be sure.

they were all so painfully straight.

so you try your best to answer vaguely,

"i don't know.", "i'm not sure, i don't really think about that." they complain a little about your mysteriousness, but it doesn't take long for them to let it go and move on.

you don't know how long you have to keep pretending you're not sure. you are sure.

you like girls.

you don't want to keep pretending you don't. but how would they feel?.

they'd feel unsafe, uncomfortable, scared, exposed to a threat, a possibility of being prey to a predator, a little voice in your head tells you.

but you're not. you're not a predator. they know you're not a predator. you'd never do anything to hurt them, or make them uncomfortable.

so you keep pretending. but the shell is starting to crack, and a knot in your throat gets tighter everytime you hear your members ask "is he your type?".

your debut is only a couple months away. you pray to god hanni has noticed by now. she's your roommate after all.

you start playing some specific songs without your headphones in hopes she walks by or enters the room and notices. you hope she's the one that asks. but she doesn't, she never mentions the songs, ever.

so you move on to movies and shows.

when she catches you watching heartbreak high in the living room TV, she only says "oh they're aussies, right?"

when she sees you watching heartstopper on your phone while eating dinner she just says, "kit connor is soooo handsome."

she doesn't mention it when she goes into your room and you're playing but i'm a cheerleader on your laptop. but hanni has caught on.

and the next time she goes into your shared room, she closes the door behind her. you're in your bed, and you're staring at each other, both of your eyes shine with nervousness.

"can i ask you something?" she says from the door, so shakily you start fearing she's not going to take it like you wish she would.

"sure." you didn't mean for your voice to come out as quiet as it did.

it's a nerve-wracking couple of seconds watching hanni take a seat in her own bed and face you. she takes a big breath before asking, "do you- no, sorry. are you... gay?"

yes, yes, yes. i am a lesbian. i like girls. you want to scream, but the realization of reality strangles you and your throat feels so tight, and you can't say anything.

"it's not like there's anything wrong about it, i'm just... asking." she tries. you can tell she's trying. it's sweet that she's trying.

"yes." it's a struggle to get it out, and your heart starts racing, but just being able to feels like such a relief that you might start crying. but then fear washes down on you again when you can't read hanni, at all.

"i'm really sorry, hanni. i promise i'm not weird or predatory or anything, i would never try to make you uncomfortable and i'm sorry if i ever did. i promise i don't like you like that, not that you're not attractive or anything, that's not what i mean at all. i just- i would never like you like that, you're like my sister and i promise that i'm still the same y/n you met, i really hope this doesn't change anything in our-" she cuts off your rambled apology-slash-explanation with a hug.

"it doesn't. i promise." it hits you now, just now, that hanni knows. she knows.

"please don't tell the others." you're choked up, and that's the only thing you could say before the tears in your eyes caught up. i don't know how they'll take it, you want to say, but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob.

"i won't. it's okay, y/n."

you've grown closer to hanni than you'd ever thought you would. you spend your nights in your room talking and laughing and watching funny videos you send each other.

it's been a few months since you've debuted and you couldn't be happier. you had someone to rely on, someone who knows all your secrets and can trust her with them, and vice versa.

your career has skyrocketed and your popularity is through the roof, and although there are always negative consequences that come with that fame, it's been mostly great on your end.

danielle doesn't really hang out in your room to talk anymore. if you're honest, you kind of miss it, but she surely has her reasons, and you don't think too much about it.

you're currently in one of the vocal practice rooms at HYBE, setting up your phone to do a phoning live. you'd just finish your vocal practice and you had asked for permission beforehand.

after a few minutes of talking with your fans, recommending movies and talking about food, you hear a knock on your door. quite strange.

"yeah? who is it?" you yell loud enough to no cause any ruckus. the door slightly opens and a face peeks inside, "it's me!" danielle's signature smile shining brightly at you, "i saw you were live and wanted to come hang out."

you didn't even need to tell her anything before she was coming right inside the room to grab a chair and sit beside you. "well, come hang out then!" you face your screen to see danielle struggling to bring the chair closer to you, and you chuckle a bit. "dani's here, guys!"

danielle has always been very touchy; with everyone, that is. today was not the exception, resting her head on your shoulder, holding your hand and locking your fingers together, nuzzling her face in your neck, it's all things you're already used to.

it's never been more than just friendly showcases of affection, to you, at least. and you've also never been irritated by it, but there's some guilt you try to suppress.

you don't want to push her away, you're not uncomfortable with her actions, what is uncomfortable is her potentially finding out your sexuality and thinking you let her shower you with affection for your own amusement. you fear it. but you don't want to think about that right now.

you think about it again, however, when you go back home and open social media only to see videos and threads with thousands of likes and views compiling every sweet moment of affection that happened just mere hours ago.

there's a pang in your chest when you see the tens of delusional comments talking of how much they'd like to see you and your friend as a couple. it feels like you're being strangled, and you suddenly feel unwell, so you close the app and turn off your phone.

"i should watch a movie."

you fully believe your debut was your prime. everyday gets harder, scandal after scandal, comeback after comeback, day after day. you work really hard, your members know, your fans know. but it never looks like it's going to get easier.

you win awards, win some more, get another important deal, shoot another session, write another song, the cycle repeats although not in the same order. like a fucked up loop. you're so fucking tired.

you wonder how hyein is holding up. you care a lot for her, like your little sister. she seems okay, eating a bowl of yogurt and fruits in the living room with haerin and hanni. are you the only one having a hard time?

you need to relieve your stress, and there's really no other option other than going to the gym to work out. so you go back to your room to lazily change into your practice clothes and grab your backpack, "i'm going to the gym." you try your best to sound at least a little enthusiastic as you walk behind the living room couch.

"when are you coming back?" you hear danielle ask from the kitchen, a twinge of concern in her voice. "it might start raining soon."

"i won't take long. if i see it starts to get cloudy i'll get going." you try to put her worries at ease. your gym doesn't have windows, though.

you shouldn't have gone. you're not even supposed to go anyway. it's raining hard, and it might start storming soon. but your manager can't know you're here. one of the many downsides of being in a group with four minors and two barely-adults, you can't call any of them to pick you up. so fuck it, you're taking the public transportation.

kind of extremely risky considering you are literally in newjeans, but okay. what else is there to do? what you failed to consider is the only bus stop being about five blocks away. and the bus doesn't drop you off even remotely close to the dorms. so you're gonna be running in the rain and, fuck it again, you do just that.

the first five blocks to the bus stop weren't that bad, you didn't get soaked like you imagined, blocking most raindrops with your backpack over your head. you really should've just brought an umbrella, though.

good thing you brought a mask, at least. nobody seemed to recognize you on the bus. you take a seat as close as possible to the exit and take out your phone to hurriedly text the group chat.

i got a bit caught up, im omw

domt worry 2 much

ill b there soon :))

minji responds with a thumbs up, hanni leaves an "idiot" that gets a like reaction by haerin. you see danielle write and then stop writing about 3 times, but she ends up not sending anything at all, so you just turn off your phone and look outside for your stop.

it only takes a couple minutes of waiting to see the silhouette of your dorm building. you get off your seat and wait for the bus to halt at the next stop to get off. it's raining a bit harder, but there's nothing you can do except wing it.

and when you get off, you immediately put your backpack on top of your head and start running as fast as you could towards your dorm. you get some looks, but no one can possibly be able to recognize you, not at the speed you're going.

after a few minutes, your legs start getting tired not only from running, but all the exercise you did hours earlier. another thing you failed to consider in this mediocre, careless plan.

but you're almost there. and you're almost not soaked.

by the time you reach your building the only thing about you that isn't wet is your scalp. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, it's probably one of your members, but you're almost there, you can't pick up.

you enter the gates of the apartment, and you're probably going to make a mess on the floor on the elevator, but your legs can't take it anymore, and you thank any god that hears your prayers when the elevator doors open and it's empty. you can't take more embarrassment right now.

the doors open once again and you try not to make much noise as you run towards your dorm. someone inside must've heard you fumbling with your keys because as soon as you find the right one the door is already open, a concerned danielle with a just as worried minji behind her. you smile at the sight of them. "hello!"

"get your ass inside!" you hear hanni shout from the couch.

you're drying your hair in your room after taking a shower and explaining the situation to your group members. just as you're about to turn on your phone to see what time it is you hear a knock on your door, "can i come in?" it's danielle.

"yup. come on in!" you answer a lot more energized than a couple hours before. danielle's not wearing her usual bright smile, but rather a more worried expression. "y/n, can we talk?"

you're confused. you've never heard or seen her like this before. she's obviously been worried before, she cares about you just as much as the others, but this time it's different. "yeah, what's up?" you try your best to respond calmly and tap a stop in the bed beside yourself, which danielle gladly takes.

"are you okay?" she asks as she settles down at your side. what?

"what do you mean?" you don't notice it but you start fidgeting with your own fingers. danielle notices.

"it's just," she tries looking somewhere else, but she can't help the need of looking into your eyes all the time, looking for some sort of sign, some crack, "i can tell you're stressed. you're tired and... if you need to talk i just want you to know that i'm here." her eyes are dripping honey and her hand is so warm when she grabs yours.

you show her a sluggish smile, "thanks, dani. i appreciate that." when you look back, her face is already finding it's way to the crook of your neck. "i'm just a little tired of everything. it really feels like i'm doing the same things all over again. i know we've achieved a lot as a group but i feel like i have nothing going on for myself." you sigh, danielle says nothing, urging you to continue.

"all the songs i pitch get turned down, my other drafts feel too personal to release as a group song. every song i write with the group in mind feels, i don't know, empty?"

your eyes unfocus as a wave of emptiness washes over you and the only thing you feel is a water droplet from your bangs fall and travel down your temples. and also the warmth shared by danielle's hand in yours.

"i just feel like nothing's going on in my life." you feel danielle's head leave your shoulder and you turn to look at each other at the same time, "i think i know how you feel." she says with the sweetest eyes ever.

"thanks for listening, dani." you smile at her, but it feels so strange when she doesn't smile back. she just stares, right through you. her eyes are so pretty; you've always known but this is the first time you've looked at them directly for so long (there's really nothing else for you to look at when she's so close to your face).

oh, yeah. in a sudden moment you were inches apart. you don't remember moving so it must've been danielle.

you don't really understand what's going on. maybe this is an eye contact battle and you're not supposed to blink. and you think for a moment you had it easy because suddenly danielle's pretty eyes are nowhere to be found and you're staring at her eyelids and long eyelashes instead.

before your brain even thinks of giving you the chance to mutter "i win!" in a silly manner, you feel your own lips getting shut. covered, enveloped by another set of softness.

oh. this is not what you expected at all.

what are you even supposed to do right now? well, pull away, obviously. but that could could give danielle the impression that you hate everything about this and, really, that's not true at all. it's good. well, not good, but- danielle is not horrible at kissing.

what even is happening, anyway? i mean, you're kissing. but what else? nothing feels like it's moving; it feels like time's stopped. there also hasn't been anything that has lead up to this happening.

so you're just left there, paralyzed, in shock, waiting until danielle pulls away. just waiting until she's done with you. until she's satisfied.

and it's until danielle notices that you're not moving that she realizes what she's done. she pulls away, shaken and distraught.

"y/n, i am so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i am so so so sorry. i really didn't mean to do that. please forgive me, y/n, i am really so sorry." at this point, danielle's voice starts to break. "i don't know why i did that, it's just, i don't know, you just looked good a-and we were just close and-"

"it's okay, dani. i know."

"no, y/n, i really am sorry. i-"

"dani, i swear it's fine." you grab her shoulder to reassure her, but is anything really fine right now? "i..." you don't really know what to say next. "i don't, like, hate you or anything. i understand things like that happen. i'm not mad at you."

"really?" you've never seen her tear up so fast. you definitely didn't expect her to tear up at this. but you know the feeling of guilt so well you can't help but feel sympathy for her. "are you sure? i promise it won't happen again."

"i'm sure, dani. you could never do anything to make me hate you."

you smile at her, she sniffles. it's the last thing you hear before you hear the sound of her wristwatch's seconds ticking. you don't really know what's going through her head. you count about 34 ticks.

"did you hate it?" her voice isn't weak, but it is lower than you normally expect it to be.

you're stunned, but the way she looks at you so earnestly, with a hint of nervousness in her eyes forces you to answer within seconds, "n-no! dani, i didn't... hate it. it was just unexpected. i didn't really process it at first." it's the truth, but it feels so gut-wrenching to say.

another 20 ticks of quiet.

"can i do it again?"

hello? hello? what is going on? hello?

"i-i mean, if you want to." it sounds more like a question than a proper answer. and danielle takes it anyway.

you don't have any romantic feelings for danielle, that's for sure. she's said she doesn't have any feelings for you either. that's established. and yet when hanni is too caught up watching movies in the living room with minji and hyein, danielle is always there, sitting in your bed.

sometime's it's just little pecks while you cuddle and watch something she doesn't care much about. sometime's she's on the verge of kissing the living shit out of you.

it's never more than that. none of you let it be more than that. it's more than okay.

it's comfortable. it's casual.

and yet, every time it happens, you feel guilt eat at your stomach.

because danielle doesn't know. and she can't know.

it's not like this was your idea in the first place, it was danielle's. but the fact that you let her do it anyway could be predatory enough for her to feel unsafe if she ever did find out. even if she's the one who caused this all.

and never once do you think about yourself while it happens. it's not a moment for you, it's a moment for danielle to take. and you're okay with that. as long as she's okay with it.

you're okay with many things just because danielle is okay with them.

if danielle wants to watch a romcom, you watch a romcom. if danielle wants to eat plain yogurt, you eat plain yogurt. if danielle wants to kiss you, you let her kiss you.

it's not that big of a deal if there are no feelings involved. it's just a matter of believing that that's actually true.

you let her do whatever she wants because you're scared to do the taking. because taking feels like stealing, and doing feels like attacking. and you're so scared to hurt danielle that you forget you can also hurt yourself.

but if it's so casual, why doesn't she let go of your hand? why does she call you pretty everyday? why does she look at you with those pretty eyes like you're her whole world?

was the "i love you" she said yesterday something she meant as platonic love? is there such a thing as casual love?

was it just the sound of the raindrops on your window that made you hallucinate the sound of a love confession?

you don't eat anything for the rest of the day.

minji and hyein are visiting their parents. hanni and haerin are out of the country. and you're in the dorm kitchen trying to figure out how blurred the lines are while you mix the milk into your tea.

you feel your heart drop when you hear the sound of footsteps of the line-blurrer herself over the sounds of light rain. it hasn't stopped since the day before.

you don't want to feel anything right now, you don't want to hear anything right now.

she wraps her arms around your waist and says, "good morning." with that big bright smile on her face. at one point it started hurting when she did, but you don't remember when.

she smells like the candles you burnt in your room two days after hanni left. you were trying to get rid of danielle's scent from your room, but you couldn't tell her that, so you just said you were trying something new.

danielle notices you say nothing back, and your eyes are nowhere in particular. "watchu thinkin' about?" her always cheery tone gets you out of your trance, and she notices when you stop stirring the spoon in your cup. you're still silent for a bit, but she lets you take your time.

"i don't think we should do this anymore, danielle."

you tense up when her arms leave your waist, but it feels oddly freeing. you don't turn back to face her.

"what do you mean?"

"are we still casual?"

there's disbelief in danielle's voice when she speaks, "what are you talking about? of course we are!" but she sounds dishonest, in a way.

"really?" that's when you turn around, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are quite flushed but nothing about her seems guilty at all, "because saying "i love you" doesn't seem quite casual to me."

she scoffs, "y/n, i tell all my friends i love them. it's a normal thing!"

"i'd agree with you if we weren't kissing on the low. it's a little too much on top of that."

"i don't know what you think casual means but-"

"what i mean is we should stop before the lines start to blur, that's if they haven't already." you don't want to yell at her. you hope she understands before you have to raise your voice. "we are public figures, famous figures. if this goes wrong we can't go back and that could potentially ruin everything, not only for us but for our group."

"well, it can't go wrong if there's no feelings involved, can it?" danielle is usually playfully sassy, but she's never responded to you like this before.

"we're human, danielle. feelings can't be stopped." you're not too good at reading people, but you can see something has clicked in danielle's brain.

"what i'm getting is that you developed feelings for me while we were casual, is that right?" she seems so sure and confident that it annoys you. it frustrates you. and you want to cry.

"no, that's not what i said. but i am scared of it happening, and i want this to stop before it has the chance to."

"well, you should've thought of that before you said yes." you never really did.

"why are you upset, anyways?"

"b-because!" her voice gets louder, "i just wanted this to be casual, and now your telling me you're scared of catching feelings, it's just weird. that's all."

you sigh, "listen, i don't want this to end on a bad note. i just-"

"well, i don't want this to end at all!"

it takes you a minute to believe what you're hearing.

"a-are you hearing yourself?" it's shocking, it really is, "this is crazy, why are you being so selfish right now?"

"because it feels good! okay?!" danielle has completely let go of the loose strings of morality she was holding on to, "it fucking feels good, a-and you make me feel good. i like it when we kiss, and i like it when we cuddle and, and, i just like it, okay?!" that's the first time you've heard danielle curse in your entire life.

"okay, well, i'm glad you did. but i don't. i don't feel good at all." it's so scary and risky because you're two seconds away from telling her the truth, and this could potentially damage both your careers irreversibly, but you can't think of any lie or excuse that is true enough to keep hiding it.

"i drown in guilt every time we kiss and i feel like i'm choking when you look at me these days."

you've never seen her look so confused, like she really doesn't understand you. because she never had to.

"why?"

"i am a lesbian, danielle." you can't shatter, not now. "and it kills me because you'll never understand how hard it is to hide like this for so long. and yes, we hide this casual thing from our members, but after this is over you don't have to hide anything at all and i still have to hide everything."

she says nothing. her eyes soften, but you can't read them. not like you ever could.

"i didn't catch feelings for you, but i could, and you're not helping out. and you don't have to worry about that. you don't have to worry about your members being disgusted at you for something you can't change. you don't have to pretend. you don't have to be scared that you're making someone uncomfortable by simply existing beside them. i had to pretend i didn't care when you kissed me, i had to pretend to be okay when you kissed me again. i've been pretending to be okay with so much i don't know what being okay is anymore."

danielle still says nothing.

"but that's all gone to shit now, hasn't it?" your voice can't break now, but it does anyway, even when your not done speaking. "i can't be okay with everything. i can't be casual about everything, danielle. not anymore." there's a hot tear running down your cheek, but you try to hold yourself together.

"i never want to hurt you, ever, danielle. but i am seriously hurting myself. i am eating myself from inside out. there's nothing casual about that."

"i think i might be in love with you." is the first thing she says in minutes. and that's when you shatter completely. you turn around to leave your mug of now cold tea on the counter and you rest your elbows on it to hide your face in your hands.

"do you think that helps?" you're sobbing.

"i'm sorry. i know it doesn't. i just had a moment of realization and i think that's why i was so upset. i didn't want you to end this because i was in love with you since the start and didn't realize."

"this is fucking crazy." it really is, that's why you can't hold down the laugh of complete astonishment that leaves your lips. "do you realize how crazy this is? i just came out to you and you're- i don't even want to think about this."

"i'm really sorry, y/n." it's the first time you see guilt in danielle's face in a long time. "i really am. i really didn't know, i- i didn't know anything at all."

"you were upset of me potentially having feelings for you when it was you the whole time, huh?" this is no time or place to make jokes, you're literally crying as you speak. but this is hilarious. danielle seems to think so too given she also laughs.

"i don't know what i was thinking." she says, hiding her face in her palm in embarrassment.

"i wish i knew too." you say, "i never do."

"so what now? i mean, you clearly don't like me back." you don't understand how danielle does it. she never looks away, she faces the truth, something you're unable to do easily.

"that's a good question, i actually never thought about that." i mean, you thought the possibility of danielle ever liking a woman, let alone you, was at a mere 0.1%, can you blame yourself for not thinking of a solution to this?

"i mean, you did say you could."

"selfish asshole." you mutter to yourself, but danielle hears it anyways. "hey!"

"i'm crying right in front of you out of fear and frustration, have some respect, dude."

"i would say it wouldn't hurt to try but it clearly does so i don't know what you want to do." wow, danielle really could never do anything to make you hate her. nothing at all. "i don't mind being the selfless one this time."

"cheesy." she's always been like that, you can't say you hate it. "i'll reheat my tea and think about it."

danielle waits for you. maybe it wouldn't be so bad to risk falling in love with her too. you've risked it once.

the microwave beeps and you take your mug out. it's hot again. you turn to face danielle and she's still there, hasn't moved an inch. "i'm willing to give it a try. but nothing casual."

she shines you the widest grin you've ever seen from her. "nothing was ever casual, i fear."

"i still can't believe you cursed." you say as you walk past her to go to your room (that probably smells like danielle's perfume again).

"i did?!" she trails behind you. you nod. "i almost jumped."

"hey, am i the first one to know?"

"what, that i'm a lesbian?" she nods, now beside you. you shake your head after a sip of your tea.

"hanni knew."

"i'm not even the first? fuck..." is she doing this on purpose... she has to be, right?

"dude? hello?"

"don't dude me, i'm your future girlfriend." she hits your arm as you walk into your room. you don't know what you're gonna say to hanni when she comes back.

"confident much? shut up and pick a movie to watch." you'll figure it out later.

end.

🗒️ this wasn't as long as i thought it was gonna be THANK GOD

[cyberstrm]

hello! i’m so happy your requests are open again :) could i please request a james wilson x younger!reader where reader works at the hospital (maybe on house’s team) and there’s a lot of sexual tension? you can include some smut or anything else you’d like, im totally okay with anything! thank you <3

cola

dr james wilson x gn!younger!reader

17+, minors dni!!!! mild/moderate nsfw ahead

a/n: i was SO hoping someone would request james wilson so TJANK YOU !!! i had so much fun writing this. i hope you enjoy, love!!! this fic is v inspired by cola by lana del ray !! <3

"...and l/n...you go to the oncology department and see what you can find that relates to these symptoms." house concluded, finishing giving out orders as he slumped into his office chair. cameron, chase and foreman all made eyes at each other, you, then at house.

"what?" you asked innocently. the four of them said nothing for a moment, before house spoke up.

"i think a certain oncologist will be...excited to see you."

you rolled your eyes and gathered your notes. "you four are children, which is saying something considering i'm the youngest."

you left the room, ignoring the snickering behind you. you made your way downstairs, trying to ignore what house had said.

it had started a few weeks ago when dr wilson came to see house for an innocent enough reason, but when he saw you, he immediately became flustered and couldn't stand still. house picked up on it immediately and as soon as wilson had left, the four of your colleagues had teased you relentlessly for 'turning dr wilson on'.

you entered the oncology lab, closing the door softly behind you. you made for the computer, but someone stepped in front of you as you stepped forward, causing you to bump into them and drop your files.

"ah, sorry, i-" it was dr wilson. when his eyes met yours, he stammered over his words. "l/n...hi, sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going'"

the two of you bent down to pick up your things, and as you reached for your notebook, so did he, and your fingertips touched gently. you pulled away, embarrassed, and allowed him to scoop your belongings up before handing them back to you.

"thank you, dr wilson." you replied, looking up at the older man. something in his face changed as you said this, it was as if you calling him 'dr wilson' meant a great deal to him.

"yes, well, anyway. i should..." he mumbled, pointing in the vague direction of the opposite side of the room. you chuckled and nodded, before stepping away and towards the computer.

you began to research, enjoying the sounds of dr wilson pottering around the room behind you. about half an hour later, with no luck on developing theories for the case, you decided to get a drink. you stood up and smoothed down your clothes, before heading for the door.

"dr wilson?" you called, and he appeared from behind a bookshelf. his eyes flickered across your body, taking you in. you smiled.

"yes?" he asked.

"do you want anything from the vending machine?"

"no, thank you." he replied, looking away, like a kid who'd been caught staring. you swung open the door and headed to the vending machine.

you had to admit, there was something about dr wilson that you were really drawn too. he was sweet, gentle, and definitely good looking. you sort of hoped that house was right, that dr wilson was attracted to you, but you were also aware of the...legal issues that may cause. but you didn't really care, all you knew for sure was that an attraction to dr wilson was certainly forming.

after collecting a can of coke from the machine, you headed back to the oncology department. you opened the door and sat back at the computer, opening the can as quietly as possible as to not disturb dr wilson. you sipped it cautiously, continuing your research.

you hadn't heard any footsteps approach you, so when you felt a presence behind you, you tensed. the presence hovered, before two hands appeared beside the keyboard, and it appeared that whoever it was was leaning over you, their breath on your neck. you didn't need the voice of the presence to confirm your suspicions, you already knew perfectly well who it was since there was only one other person in the room.

"you know," dr wilson began, his voice controlled and slightly stern. "you really shouldn't be drinking soda in here."

you shivered at his tone. "i know, doctor wilson, but i..."

dr wilson chuckled, lowering his head so it hovered at your shoulder, his mouth was inches from your ear.

"you know you don't have to call me dr wilson, right? my name is james."

"do you not like me calling you that, dr wilson?" you asked with feigned innocence in your honeyed tone, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"it's...quite the opposite, l/n. if you keep calling me that, i won't have any choice but to..."

"to what, doctor wilson?"

dr wilson removed his arms from beside you and stood up behind you, but didn't leave.

"turn around."

"why-"

"turn. around."

you obeyed and swivelled your desk chair. you avoided his gaze, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. dr wilson lazily lifted his hand and gripped your jaw, lifting your head and making you stand up, forcing you to meet his eyes. you batted your lashes sweetly.

he leant forward, seemingly unable to help himself any longer. he pressed his lips to yours, his hand still on your jaw, the other pulling you closer by your waist. he kissed you deeply, before biting down on your lower lip, making you whine.

"b-be gentle with me, dr wilson," you whimpered against his lips, and he groaned, enjoying your innocence and deepening the kiss. you soon pulled away, and the two of you stood motionless, panting.

"i-i should get back to work..." you muttered, feeling fuzzy. dr wilson chuckled.

"here," he said, stepping forward and past you and sat on the swivel chair you previously occupied. he patted his lap. "you can work from here."

you felt your face warm, but turned around and sat down on his lap, facing the computer. his hands held your hips, his thumbs stroking your clothed skin. "you're so obedient." he mumbled in praise. you sighed shakily, before moving your hips in a circular motion ever so slightly, creating friction. dr wilson groaned quietly, his hands pushing you further onto him.

you kept going, grinding into his lap, enjoying his moans and gasps, but also enjoying the friction yourself.

"i wish i could..." dr wilson tried to speak, but it dissolved into nothing.

"you wish what, dr wilson?" you breathed, arching your back inwards in pleasure.

"i wish i could fuck you here and now." he whispered, his hands slithering under your top and roaming up your bare torso, pulling you against him. you moaned, wishing the same, before a noise made both you and dr wilson freeze.

the door had opened into the department.

"wilson? l/n? where are-" cameron's voice filled the silence. she appeared from behind a bookshelf, and stared at the two of you, dumbstruck.

"um....we worked out what was wrong with the patient, so...." she explained, looking anywhere but at the two of you.

"o-okay, thanks." you replied, mortified.

"don't tell house," you and dr wilson said at the exact same time. cameron chuckled exasperatedly.

"your secret's safe with me." she turned and walked out of the room. as the door clicked close, you began to laugh. you allowed dr wilson to push the chair back and you stood up, and he followed suit.

"so do you um..." he began, back to his chivalrous, slightly awkward, doctor-y self. "wanna grab dinner tonight?"

you giggled, and stood on your tip toes to peck his lips. "i'd love nothing more, dr wilson."

[shoshiwrites]

💭 JO/BUCKY AU IDEAS 💭 NONE OF WHICH I HAVE WRITTEN (YET)

[90s/COLLEGE NEWSPAPER AU] Bucky's a wannabe Ray Kinsella who doesn't know how to write a story shorter than 5000 words, Gale's a long-suffering editor, Marge runs the lit mag, and Jo's the transfer student who may or may not have just gone onstage at karaoke night. (She's singing Dreams by the Cranberries, thank you @rosies-riveters I am not alright and neither is Bucky.)

[FIREFIGHTER AU] Jo and Kay have a little apartment fire. This one is @junojelli's fault.

[LUMBERJACK AU] This one might have started as a joke (also Juno's fault) but it's real now. Nineteenth or early 20th century.

[TWENTIES AU] Borrowed this one from Jo and Joe, oops. Jo's father runs a pawnshop, Bucky (and Buck) are the boxers next door.

[CIVIL WAR SLASH GOING WEST AU] "I think Bucky would look great in Union blue" — @mercurygray

[GHOST AU] — Also stolen from Jo and Joe, oops. AKA Jo would rather go insane in private than tell a person she thinks her apartment is haunted by Mr. Karaoke. Bucky: “That's Major Karaoke to you.” Moves things around to get attention and also ostensibly for feng shui reasons. Jo catches glimpses of him in the mirror, sleeping.

[WWI/VAGUELY LAFAYETTE ESCADRILLE AU] — Jo's working with an aid group, Bucky's (obviously) a pilot. Jo writes lots of letters and scraps, Bucky shows up with his scarf blowing in the wind and flowers he picked from the airfield. They definitely don't kiss in a barn where the plane is parked or anything.

[GILDED AGE BUT ALSO KIND OF ART NOUVEAU AU] — Inspired by this artwork. @basilone figured this one out when I went AU??? Besties Kay (with money) and Jo (without money) meet delivery-guy Benny and party boy with a heart of gold Bucky. Also ft. John's friend/business partner/numbers guy Gale, social mastermind Marge, and William, I guess. He's getting punched.

[e-dubbc11]

Come in Raven, This is Blackbird

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: None really. Vague mention of Billy’s time overseas, mention of a “gun”

Word Count: 877

Summary: Told from Billy’s POV. He’s being hunted, deep in the forest. He’s trying to be quiet but someone unexpected gives away his position

A/N: Another little idea that popped into my head, inspired this little fic. And I really like the way it turned out. I hope you do too!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Walking under a canopy of dense trees, you hoped the crunch of the leaves underneath your feet wouldn’t give away your position. You looked up above at the towering trees as they attempted to block out the bright sunlight and you could clearly see the veins in the leaves mixed with the tree branches that were twisted and knotted like laced fingers.

Your weapon was drawn.

Off in the distance, birds were singing happily when a fresh breeze blew past you, rustling the leaves above and across the damp forest floor. The noise of dry leaves scurried behind you.

Was someone there?

Trekking through the forest was a lot different than the desert of Iraq or Afghanistan. Here, you had plenty of cover from the heat of the summer sun. Over there, there weren’t many places to hide, it was loud with gunfire and hailstorms of bullets.

The forest was the complete opposite. It was quiet and dark with rays from the sun sporadically shining down to the forest floor through thin spots in the large healthy trees.

Narrow twisting paths led you to new sights, no two places in the woods looked the same. There were no paths or beautiful sights in the desert, just sand and spaced out trees as far as the eye could see, with large rocks and caves.

Everyone had always said you were light on your feet, a benefit when you’re trying to walk through the woods without making a lot of noise.

The smell of damp wood floated past your nose in a particularly compact part of the forest where the humidity was jungle-like and under the damp leaves, was the mud that covered the soles of your boots.

You didn’t know where the rest of your team was.

It felt as if you were a little out of practice, being a tattoo artist was a lot different than being a marine. The marine logo was tattooed on the hand that now held your gun instead of a tattoo pen.

The wind picked up again causing the trees to creak and whisper making it easier to move to a different location. Ducking behind the trunk of a large tree, you could have sworn you heard a tiny laugh.

That can’t be right.

After the wind died down, you heard the rustling of leaves. It came from in front of you this time. Fixing your weapon in front of the tree first, you peered out from behind the trunk.

Nothing.

You were trained to not be seen, a master of the element of surprise. But so was your enemy, you taught them to blend in and it sounded like they were getting closer.

They probably thought they were being quiet but your hearing was too acute. If you didn’t act quickly, you’d be pinned down and it would be too late so it was time to use the radio.

“This is Blackbird, this is Blackbird…come in Raven.” You whispered into the radio.

There was silence followed by what sounded like someone pushing the talk button but they weren’t saying anything. There were a few more seconds of silence before you heard.

“Hi Daddy!!” Anna exclaimed.

That was followed by. “Sweetheart, what did we practice?! You’re supposed to say ‘Go for Blackbird.’ Yeah?” Frank said.

But it was too late, she came out from your blind spot and fired her weapon. Water hits you right between the eyes.

“Gotcha, baby.” She said with a laugh.

She had such an infectious laugh, she laughed with her entire body and it was hard to be mad about losing when she made you so happy. Even in all camouflage, she looked beautiful as she came closer to you and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips, taking the radio from your hand at the same time.

“Target eliminated, Frank.” She said. “Or whatever you guys say into these things, I dunno. You find the kids yet? Lunch is probably ready back at the cabin.”

Frank’s voice boomed over the radio. “Negative, but we’ll find them on the way back. Say hi to mommy little Raven.”

“Hi mommy!!” Anna said in a high pitched squeal.

“Hi baby girl! Can you say ‘over and out?’”

You could tell she pushed the talk button a couple more times before she said, “over…out…mommy. Bye daddy!!”

“Bye bye baby.” You said as the radio went silent. “You’re too funny, sweet girl. You got me right between the eyes too, maybe you could be a scout sniper, my little firecracker.” You told her.

She just smiled and snaked her arms around your neck, pulling you in close for a deeper kiss, her tongue pushing against your teeth, and silently asking for hers to twist and knot with yours, while her fingers gently scratched against your scalp.

God, you loved her.

“MAYBE, Big Raven should have told Little Raven to be a little quieter when talking into the radio.” She said with a warm smile. “But she is a toddler so that’s probably asking too much of her.” She chuckled.

You just shook your head at her, smiled, kissed her forehead and said. “Wait til you see what he dressed her in, I didn’t know they made toddler camouflage.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[riseswiththesun]

tell me what you really feel

mini drabble/ficlet based off this comic by @mayskalih! i saw her first hc about this and had wanted to write something but then she did the comic and i literally got up and wrote this sksks so thank you for the brainrot LOL

not sure when the canon time frame of this would be I kinda made it vague, so you can imagine it how you want tbh lol, I kinda imagine them a bit older, so like canon divergence/post canon

ao3 link

word count: 2.5k

title inspired by lyrics from the song like or like like by miniature tigers

He hates to admit how much the words sting when Sokka says them. 

Lovebirds.

Zuko feels like he did as a child; the way he feels is almost petulant, wanting something he knows he cannot have. The way feelings he can't quite discern—anger, jealousy, sadness, bitterness, perhaps, he isn't sure, and he doesn't even really want to know—pool at the bottom of his stomach, leaving him uneasy. But he knows all of this is so painfully trivial, pathetic even, how such a nonsensical word almost sends him into a downward spiral of emotions.

But Sokka only confirmed what he’s expected—what he’s known. 

He’s seen the way that the two of them smile at each other, the way she seems almost happier, lighter, brighter, around Aang—something he would be foolish to think she would ever be around him. And so even though he’s been clinging to their few brief moments of amicability, the few moments of vulnerability, and the few brief touches that he’s clung onto more than he likes to admit, he knows his place. He’s grateful for the forgiveness he’s been granted, and that, albeit unfortunately, will just have to be enough.

Zukko never wanted to come to terms with these feelings—if that’s what they even are. He’s tried to tuck them into the back of his mind, being content with where they currently remained—something he didn’t want to grapple with. But now, the painstaking realization has hit him that his feelings are large and grand, knowing that it’s more than just admiration or maybe even something as menial as a crush. He cares, feelings that feel large and grand in a way that he can’t quite comprehend. But he knows that he likes how he feels understood, and he likes how he feels that he’s not someone who’s broken, and he likes that he feels that he is someone who is capable of doing good things—of making a change, of becoming good again. And even aside from that, he likes that she is all things good, that she is hope, that she is someone who deserves better—which is something that he knows that he is not.

So because he cares, he allows for the upturn of his own lips as he watches the two of them, the sun casting down glowing rays—something almost out of a picture, and he thinks to himself: this is what she deserves, what she wants.

And because he cares, cares in a way that it aches in the deepest swells of his chest, he turns to Sokka, nodding in agreeance, the same smile on his face as he speaks.

“You’re right, Sokka,” he says almost breathily, forbidding any sort of indication of the affliction that hangs low in his throat to show in his voice. “We should help them.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Katara feels a shift—something is off. 

It feels harmless at first; she doesn’t think much of it. It starts with Sokka’s calculated glances towards her, almost as if he has some sort of intention behind his stares. He has the same look on his face when he talks about war plans or whenever he’s discussing something concerning logistics—he’s plotting, but she doesn’t know what. 

She sees the way he and Zuko share mutual looks, almost as if it’s something they’re in on together. It felt harmless at first, the way they’re insistent on certain things, guiding her to certain parts of the camp, directing her to do certain tasks that normally they wouldn’t have her do, but then it crosses into a certain territory where it raises flags, and she knows that something’s off, but she can’t quite figure out what.

It makes the energy within the camp feel strained—she can tell that Sokka is being sneaky, like he’s hiding something from her, or maybe even all of them, which only floods her with additional anxiety—something she already feels she has enough of, and doesn’t need more of at a time like this; Toph is indifferent as always; Suki constantly looks as if she’s worried, almost as if she knows what’s going on, but refuses to say much of anything; Aang tries to keep spirits up, acting as he always does, which that much she can appreciate, her one small semblance of normalcy; but then there’s Zuko, who she doesn’t know how to describe his behavior, but all she knows is his is the person’s behaviors whose bothers her the most. 

She hates that once she finally found herself comfortable with him, almost seeking him out, almost desiring to be near him, he’s decided he no longer wants to be near her, taking every opportunity to push her away. Every instance in which she attempted to even talk to him, whether it be for something small, or even when she tries to seek out his assistance, he’s quick to call someone in replacement of him.

Katara huffs to herself, feeling exasperated by everything that’s been going on the last few days. Part of her feels like she’s being dramatic, something everyone wouldn’t hesitate to tell her, but she knows that something is wrong, and she hates that it bothers her so much. 

She finds herself roaming aimlessly around their campsite, searching for some form of respite, anything at this to put her mind at her ease. She sees Aang and Zuko sitting and talking, prompting her to try and join them, hoping talking with them could jog her spirits even the smallest bit knowing the two of them are two people that as of lately, are the only ones who she feels like understand her most.

“Hey,” Katara calls out as she approaches them, a smile on her face, “Can I join you guys?” She takes a seat before they can even answer, assuming she’ll receive an eventual yes. She somewhat receives one in the form of Aang’s returned grin, but Zuko’s body stiffens at the sight of her. The smile she saw from afar has been replaced by a face she once deemed as cold—an expression she didn’t associate e 

“U-uh,” he hesitates, quickly standing up. “I-I gotta go…” Walking away before the two of them can question his reasonings for leaving.

Aang and Katara share confused glances, before both their eyes follow Zuko to the other side of their camp, joining Sokka in whatever it is he seems to be doing. Aang gives her a shrug before he continues the conversation, but Katara no longer has any interest in talking, her mood seemingly gone sour.

But most of all, she hates the feeling in her chest, something almost like a tear in her heart, that occurred the second that Zuko left, taking all the air in her lungs with him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Zuko concludes that solitude is the best course of action. 

He knows that he’s doing the right thing, the honorable one even, but it doesn’t make it any more bearable. He almost wishes that he felt the petty rage and jealousy that he felt with Mai—anger, at least, is an easier concept to grapple with. 

But he finds that whatever this is, he can only take in strides, the gravity of his feelings being a harsh reality that he’s been forced to come to terms with. Each time Zuko aids in this plan of theirs, he knows it’s for a greater purpose, one that he would put above his own desires and feelings (something that the Zuko before would have never considered), so he continues, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. 

Though despite being someone who's changed, valuing those who he cares about, it’s in his innate being as a person to at times, wallow. So he concludes that solitude is in fact the best course of action. Because in isolation, there he can bask in his emotions without fear of being questioned; there is nobody to judge his seemingly childish tantrums, when all of it just feels so unfair, and why him; but most of all, there he can live in the bliss in  knowing he’s the only one who knows just how much his feelings have amounted to, and just how much he may have fucked up in allowing them to get to that point. 

So he keeps to himself in the moments that he can, doing whatever tasks he can alone, cherishing the few moments of privacy he gets to wrestle with his emotions. He clings to whatever noises around him, hoping they can somehow bring him back to earth, but it’s normally much to no avail—the crackle of the fire and the buzzing of insects in the night sky only provide cursory background noise to the never ending state of chaos of his mind. 

In Zuko's mind, he feels as though there’s a constant influx of emotions, so much so that he almost doesn’t feel smaller hands against his back, jolting him out of his thoughts, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Hey, Zuko,” a voice that could belong to nobody other than Katara calls out from behind him. He feels his body stiffen at her touch, no longer used to the close contact, even in the few instances it had occurred. Zuko turns to face her, her face showing clear signs of displeasure, but before Zuko can even question why, she keeps talking. “Why are you avoiding me?” She asks, anger, or maybe even hurt, Zuko thinks, hanging in her voice. 

His eyes go wide, but he quickly tries to regain his composure, not wanting to raise any sort of concern. He thinks to what he’s done for the entirety of the week whenever Katara’s had any sort of issue, knowing there’s a better solution than him to her problems. 

“Let me go get Aang…” He says gently, trying not to make matters worse. 

Her face scrunches at this, releasing out a huff—she’s upset. Zuko tries to think of what he could’ve done to upset her, all he’s done since they’ve made amends is try his hardest to do right by her, and he feels like he constantly keeps coming up short, only confirming what he’s known for so long—she deserves better. 

“You’re not going anywhere—you don’t need to get Aang, this has nothing to do with him,” she starts, closing the distance between them. Zuko can see the telltale signs of her anger, the face she makes when she’s fed up with all of them, when they’ve pushed her buttons too hard, or worn her patience too thin—the furrow between her brows, the narrow of her eyes, the rosiness in her cheeks, the exasperation in her voice. “What’s wrong, Zuko? Why are you avoiding me? Why is it that every time I try to talk to you or ask for your help, you suddenly call Aang or leave?” She asks angrily, before her voice gets quiet, as if she’s nervous to finish the rest of her sentence, “Did I… do something?” 

Zuko didn’t think there was a feeling that felt worse than how he already did, but the look on Katara’s face, one that had just been filled with anger, that now holds so much hurt, is enough to make him fess up to the whole ruse—he doesn’t want to leave any room for misinterpretation. 

“I-I wanted to help you and Aang!” He blurts out. “Sokka told me you liked each other, so we’ve… been trying to help you two. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea but… that’s why I’ve been doing that, for you two.”

Her face twists, this time not in anger, but what he thinks is annoyance. Katara lets out a pained huff, pinching her nose and closing her eyes, almost as if she had to take a moment to process his words. 

“You two are idiots,” she sighs. 

This time, it’s Zuko's turn for his face to scrunch up, but for him, rather than anger or annoyance, it’s in confusion. He raises his brows, leaning against the wall behind him, “What?”

Katara steps closer, cutting the distance between them from arm’s length to inches away in just a few seconds. She leans in, pressing her hands against the stone wall behind him for support. Their faces are so close he can feel her breath tickling his cheek, he feels his heart racing and his palms growing sweaty, the result of too many emotions and her presence alone. 

“Zuko, I don’t like Aang…” She says. “I like you.”

He blinks at her, feeling dumbfounded. The words hang in the air, almost as if they’re waiting for Zuko to take them and physically make himself process them, screaming at him to comprehend the gravity of what she means, but Katara, instead, does it for him, giving him no time for things like insecurity or misunderstanding. She closes the distance between them, pressing her lips onto his. 

At first, Zuko feels his body tense—one too many shocking proclamations have occurred, leaving him incapable of processing things at a normal rate. By the time his mind has finally processed her words, I like you, his body finally has caught up to reality, taking him out of the state of limbo he’s since been existing in—those few seconds between before and after her profession—he feels Katara pull away, just after he’d finally become accustomed to the way her lips felt against his. 

He feels his cheeks flush, seeing the way she looks at him, waiting for his response. Her eyes have a look in them, softness almost, something akin to hope, Zuko thinks. They stare at one another, at a loss for words, both too scared to break the silence between them, the only sound their bated breaths and the drumming of their heartbeats. 

Zuko has never been the best at emotions or words, he thinks the best course of action in this scenario is just doing. So this time, it’s Zuko who leans forward, cupping her cheek affectionately before pressing his lips onto hers with a confidence he didn’t know that he had in himself. 

And though Zuko isn’t perfect, and he still has so much to learn, so much growing to still do, maybe he is deserving of good things, and there are people who are capable of seeing the good in him too. He thinks that maybe later they can talk more about their feelings and specifics and whatever other misunderstandings may have occurred, but for now, he enjoys the way she feels underneath his touch, a feeling he wants to tattoo in his memory, a moment like this he will remember forever. 

All the feelings of self doubt and insecurity and the little voices that scream inside him, you aren’t enough, begin to dissipate with every little press of her mouth against his. It feels sweet and it feels new and it feels like the good in life that he’s been searching for. 

When he finally pulls away, he looks at her, admiring how the fire casts a glow on her face, her cheeks rosy, and her lips plush. Her eyes sparkle, and Zuko never realized, or at least he’s never allowed himself to admit just how beautiful she really is. 

He feels a warmth settle inside him, the corners of his lips upturning. And there’s more that he wants to say, but his mind, always an influx of emotions, albeit this time, positive ones, settles on: “I like you too, Katara.”

[accio-victuuri]

The script writer of One and Only shared the experience writing the character of Chen Shuo and the photos used of Yibo while writing.

Friends who have worked as screenwriters and doing scripts know that when you create a character, if you can embed a face in your mind. Then, as the text and the plot progress, TA has a chance to "come alive", look at you, start breathing, and talk to you.

As a screenwriter, this is a brilliant moment that only colleagues understand. I was very lucky, when "One and Only" was still a ray of flame, and when Chen Shuo was still in chaos, I had the authority to embed Yibo into Chen Shuo. I am also very excited that this pure, persistent, high-spirited face can be so in tune with the contradictory and unified Chen Shuo who regards dance and family as his beliefs.

The script has gone through more than a year, and the draft has been changed and overturned several times. Although the plot is always changing, smearing, and reorganizing, but in his heart, B boy Chen Shuo's eyes are becoming more and more determined.

As for later in Hangzhou, how to see Yibo go to become Chen Shuo in the first scene is very practical, and give him a new light and warmth, that is another wonderful memory.

The director revealed the fact that I printed a photo of Yibo, and the audience was always curious about which one I printed. As an Internet fear, I originally wanted to be as vague as before. But after thinking about it, this kind of tweaking is simply not "enthusiastic"❗️This summer, as a member of "One and Only", we should not refuse any form of sharing and carnival.

The photos I was always looking at at that time were actually two. One is on the stage, his eyes are like a torch, even in rehearsal, all thoughts can be unified. One is from childhood, with clear eyes and fashionable sleeves showing extraordinary aura.

However, people don't know that it is not Doraemon with technological magic on his clothes that makes this child stand on the stage and be loved by so many people on the screen after a few years. It is a boy's enthusiastic and unrepentant pursuit of dance and performance.

Thank you Yibo for the perfect interpretation of Chen Shuo, and I hope everyone will promote it enthusiastically so that it can bring joy, inspiration and touch more people.

[barbiewritesstuff]

Strauss Blocked : Part 2

---

Okay so I might make this a 3 parter... oops???

I'm sorry if Hotch is ooc but in hoping that the more I write for him the better it'll get. I'm also not that far into the series (series 4) so I have plenty of time to get to know him better

A huuuuuge thank you to my bestie @Igg5898 for beta writing this nonesense and @ravensmadreads for the inspo (and shut up you do totally inspire this, we go feral in the chat)

Tw. SMUT. Oral (both female and male), p in v sex, Spencer is NOT coping well with things and it breaks my heart and that's pretty much it....

Previous Part

---

 “He’s okay,” Spencer said, knocking on your door after everyone had already retreated to their hotel rooms. After Avery Watt’s cup incident, you had been told to go home. There was nothing left to do for the day, and Hotch would need further examining at a hospital in another town. Medics assured the team it wasn’t all that bad, but they needed ex-rays to make sure they weren’t missing anything. Reid, ever the loyal friend, offered to ride with Hotch, “The hospital released him an hour ago. They said he’d have no lasting damage to his windpipe, but he might have a raspy voice for a bit…” he added, you stepped aside and let him in. Spencer quickly made himself comfortable, turning on the kettle and prepping a mug for tea, he turned around, “I have a feeling you don’t mind though…”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, agent Reid,” you grinned, crossing your arms over your chest to hide how vulnerable you truly felt. As friendly as you and Spencer were, admitting you had a crush on Hotch -- because that’s the only thing you would ever admit to. Not even the threat of torture would get you to tell anyone that you had actually slept with him -- felt a little too private. The feelings you harboured for Hotch were your little secret, something you kept both bottled up deep inside you and close to your heart, and until you figured out what to do about them, or if these feelings might ever be reciprocated, you wanted to make sure no one else would ever find out.

“Oh come on,” he grinned, “Don’t pretend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied. 

The kettle clicked. Spencer turned his attention towards his mug, he filled it up to the brim, just shy of spilling it right onto the case file you had placed on the desk when you came back to the Hotel. The aroma of mint filled the room, and the two of you were quiet for a moment, enjoying this small interlude in a harrowing day that had started with a dead girl and ended with Agent Strauss driving you back to the hotel, saying that “This wouldn’t have happened to him if he had been more careful,” you had been vaguely impressed by how fast that woman’s brain was rewriting history, and wondered just how different her version of the day had been. 

Spencer pulled you out of your reverie with a tap of your nose. 

“You think he’s sexy,” he stated

“Sure,” you smiled a little uncomfortably, “He’s attractive.” 

“You have a crush,” he corrected you. 

You had had a long day. You were tired, Hotch’s ‘accident’ and seeing him getting carted off on a stretcher had affected you more than you had realised in the moment, it was making you rather emotional. Spencer’s correct reading of your feelings was only making things worse. To avoid him noticing the tears welling up, you pretended to look annoyed and rolled your eyes. 

“You should do something about it,” he said, “You know he likes you too.”

You stayed quiet. 

“I’m going to the store, I have a craving for salted caramel ice cream. Do you need anything?” he eventually said, changing the subject. You hated profilers, you decided in that moment, because Reid wasn't the kind you let you off easily if he thought you were being stupid about a crush. He was a secret romantic -- a curse his mother, professional bookworm, had passed on to him -- and would do anything to make two star crossed lovers get together. If he had changed the subject so fast, it was because he could see he hurt you.

“I will take two bottles of the cheapest wine you can find, please,” you smiled

“Ooh, big plans for tonight,” Spencer chuckled, “Can I join?”

“I’m sorry, I need some time by myself. Strauss has stuck to me like shit on a shoe for the entire day, I need to be a hermit for a bit,” you said, “Besides, I’m not planning anything particularly fun. Just a bath and an early night,” you added

“That’s fine,” Spencer smiled, “I have a book on the depiction of food in 15th Century paintings that I want to finish, anyway,” he said, “Can I finish my tea?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, sitting down on your bed and patting the space right next to you. Spencer sat down, holding his mug with both hands as he took small sips. The two of you stayed quiet for a bit, enjoying the quiet.

Reid sipped his cup at a seemingly quickening pace, slurping more than swallowing now. You looked over, surprised to see tears streaking down hos face.

“I thought he was dead,” Spencer admitted in a whisper, “I thought we got into the room too late…”

“Spencer --” you said, lowering your voice to match his. You reached over, balling your hand over the edge of your sleeve and wiping his tears away with your cardigan.

“I know, I know, but Nathan --” Spencer breathed in rapidly, “I can see him when I close my eyes. Just on the bed like that,” he added, “I know Nathan didn’t die, but just because I saved him doesn’t mean I’ll manage to save someone else. And I’m scared that someone else might be someone I love.” 

“Spencer, listen to me,” you said, grabbing his chin in one of your hands, “None of us would ever put you into a situation like that, not if we can help it. You’re our friend, we’ll protect you, even if it is the last thing we do, and even if it is from ourselves. We’re not going to die on you,” you said, aware that you were making promises that weren’t yours to keep. Trying to avoid falling down that rabbit hole of thoughts yourself, you tried to joke, “And if I ever do die, I promise I will haunt the shit out of you."

“If?” Spencer asked, blubbering out a teary laugh

“Yeah, if. Deal with it,” you deadpanned back

“I hope you never die,” he said, “But if you do, I hope you do haunt the shit out of me.”

“No you don't, Spence. I’ll be a mean ghost. I’ll write on your mirrors, move things two inches to the left, make the phone ring at 2 am every night,” 

“Eh,” Spencer shrugged, “You can do better."

“Fine,” you huffed, pretending to be offended, “I will make sure your tv plays nothing but romcoms for the rest of time, and I’ll make it so that all your fantasy novels are missing the last chapter."

He gasped, “Now that’s evil,” Spencer said with a genuine smile, “I look forward to it.”

“Go get me my wine,” you ordered him, fishing his empty mug out of his hands and putting it on your night stand

“I’m going, I’m going,” he laughed, quickly standing up and jogging out of the door. You watched him leave and stayed put for a second, listening to his footsteps fade as he made his way down the corridor, wondering if you had made the right decision. Spencer had been having a rough year, Nathan had started things off and he’d been kidnapped too. The Spencer he was before running into that cornfield had never quite gotten back. It worried you. You felt bad for sending him away like that, he was clearly trying to reach out, but you would be lying if you said your year had gone completely smoothly too. 

Developing feelings for your boss was one thing, but with Rossi’s arrival and now Strauss’ interference it felt like everyone was doubting your abilities. Rossi second guessed every move you made under the guise of having more experience and knowing the job better and you couldn’t really deny that, he had worked on most of the major cases that made the bureau what it was today and he’d written so many books that most of the material you had been taught at the academy had been based on his research but it was hard to feel confident in yourself as an agent when you were trying to prove your worth next to agent Rossi, who for some reason seemed to only ever be partnered up with you. 

All in all, and especially after days like these, you wondered if the BAU truly was the place for you. But if it wasn’t, where would you go? You had never even considered another career path. You hadn’t exactly told yourself to make a decision by the end of the night, but the sooner you decided, the sooner you could make a plan B for your life. 

The prospect of leaving the BAU scared you, you liked your colleagues, and you’d miss Spencer but as much as it sucked and brought you to the verge of a panic attack whenever you thought about it, you couldn’t help but think it would make things with Aaron so much easier. You wouldn’t have to see him every day. You would finally be free to move on. 

Having a crush on your boss was unfortunate. Having a one night stand with him was bad practice at best and downright stupid at worst. Entertaining Spencer’s ridiculous thought that he might like you back was a recipe for heartbreak and misery. But your heart refused to see it that way, part of it hoped that Spencer was right whenever Aaron accidentally stood too close to you, whenever he defended you against Strauss, whenever he shot you one of his rare smiles. It tried so hard to make something out of nothing and leaving would allow you to heal from that. Maybe you’d finally be able to meet someone you could see a future with. Someone your age with a stable 9 to 5 job that wants marriage and a family. Someone gentle that other people didn’t routinely call a ‘drill sergeant and a bully’.

By the time Spencer knocked on your door again you had all but made up your mind. You took the two bottles of red from him with a smile and screwed the cap off of the first one as soon as you had closed the door, bringing it to your lips and taking a large swig. You didn’t even like wine -- whenever you went out you always took care to order the cocktails with the most fruit juice to hide the taste of alcohol -- but writing a resignation letter for your dream job required some easily accessible alcohol and you doubted the 24h convenience store next to the hotel sold ready-made Malibu cocktails. 

You sat down at the desk with a pen and notepad and tried to start it but it never seemed quite good enough. “Dear Aaron Hotchner,” sounded too formal, “SSA Aaron Hotchner,” sounded too negative and “Dear Aaron,” sounded both too informal and too much like the title of a breakup song. Before you knew it, you had drunk half a bottle of wine in the space of an hour and made no progress on your letter. 

Decision making abilities impaired by alcohol on an empty stomach, you decided it would simply be easier to tell him now. You certainly felt brave enough. 

You left your hotel room in your nightie, and made your way down to his room. You raised a fist to knock and immediately dropped it to your side. This was a bad idea, you realised, you didn’t even know what to say, but before you could sober up enough to turn around and make your way back to your own room three doors down, the door opened. Hotch stood in front of you, hair dripping water onto his bare torso. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower, further evidenced by the towel he held against his throat, patting his brand new bruise dry. 

"Thought I heard something," he said, "Everything okay?" He added, eyes travelling down your body and taking in your clothes and the half empty bottle of red you held in the hand that wasn't brushing your hair back. 

"Can I come in?" You asked and Hotch leant against the doorframe to check for an unwanted audience in the corridor. You wondered how much of your inner struggle was visible on your face, because you were pretty sure he never would have considered letting you in otherwise. 

He stepped out of the way, letting you walk in a few steps before closing the door and turning to you, waiting patiently for you to speak.

“I think I might quit,” you muttered, barely above a whisper. Hotch stayed quiet for a moment and you wondered if he hadn’t heard.

“Is it because of today?” he asked and you shook your head, “Is it because we slept together?” 

You shook your head again, “I just don’t know if I’m a good fit,” you replied

“Are you having trouble with colleagues?” he asked

“No, I --” you started, trying to find any other excuse and coming up short. Not that Aaron would have listened anyway, since he cut you off as soon as he heard what he wanted to hear.

“Then no.”

“I’m sorry?” you asked, perplexed

“No. I’m not accepting your resignation,”

“It’s not your decision to make,” you snapped at him.

“And you can’t do this after drinking,” he nodded towards the bottle of wine.

“My mind was made up before, Sir,” you replied, hitting the 'Sir' hard. You were usually on first name basis with him the second you were off the clock and out of earshot from any of the other members of the team, so hearing you be so formal made him frown.

“Right,” he said, “So it is because we slept together,” he added, you raised an eyebrow at him, feeling more and more like this was a terrible idea, if only because if you had been sober, you might have been able to defend yourself against this, “You called me ‘sir’, you’re trying to distance yourself from me. I get it, it’s fine if you regret this, but please don’t throw a perfectly good career down the drain for it,” he said, “We can pretend it never happened, it’s fine.”

As the words started to register in your head, you felt nothing but confusion. From what you understood -- or thought you understood, you had to focus harder than you ever had to in order to understand a word he was saying -- it didn’t seem like Hotch was looking at the situation the same way you were. If anything, he seemed to have thought this would lead to something.

“I don’t regret it,” you said, “Which is the problem. I don’t think being in love with your boss is particularly conducive to…” you started, “I don’t know. I think it’s better if I leave. I’m not good at this anyway.”

“In love with your boss?” Hotch repeated, raising an eyebrow up at you in surprise. You didn’t reply. 

You felt a blush covering your face as you ducked your head to look at the floor, “Perhaps,” you said quietly, suddenly regretting the amount of wine you had consumed. 

When you felt a warm hand on your chin, you allowed your head to be guided up. Your eyes connected with Hotch’s and you were surprised to find his pupils large enough that only a thin ring of iris could be seen around them, “Perhaps, or definitely?” 

You swallowed, suddenly becoming aware of exactly how close your lips were to his. Your mouth suddenly feeling dry, “Definitely,” you replied, the word a whisper on your breath. 

“Good,” he exhaled, pulling you close and capturing your lips into a passionate kiss. You froze briefly, allowing him to take the bottle out of your hand and placing it on the nearest surface he could find before all but slamming you against the wall. You squealed in surprise but it soon turned into a moan when one of his hands pulled your head back by your hair. He brought his mouth down by your neck, nipping, kissing and nibbling flesh as he travelled down your body, leaving goosebumps wherever he touched you. 

His other hand cupped your breast over the fabric of your nightgown and massaged the soft flesh, soon rolling your hard nipple between two of his strong fingers. You moaned again, trying to keep it down as Strauss got out of bed above you and walked to the bathroom. Aaron sank to his knees and lifted your nightie up slightly. 

Having genuinely not expected to walk up to Hotch's room to seek the release you so wanted, you hadn't bothered to wear particularly enticing underwear, and perhaps that was for the better. In one swift movement, he grabbed both sides of your panties and tore them off. Not giving you time to recover, Hotch's mouth colided with your slit. He peppered it with kisses for a moment before taking pity on you and sliding his tongue between your folds, the scalding temperature contrasting deliciously against the cold outside temperature of Alaska in December which seemed to seep in even with closed windows and closed doors. 

Your legs buckled slightly but with one strong, steadying hand, Aaron held you up. His other hand came to grab one of your ankles which he moved to rest over his shoulder. Like that, he could finally access you in full. He lapped at you, sometimes sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves until your juices dripped down your chin and the familiar coil of pleasure tightened in your stomach. You were on the verge of release when Aaron looked up, crossing your gaze, and winked. His pupils were blown out, eyes dark with lust and cheeks flushed out. He looked so good you almost wondered if it was all a dream. To reassure yourself, you grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged at it a little. Hotch let out a groan, the vibrations of which were enough to send your spiralling towards your orgasm. 

Once down from your high, Aaron came back up with a satisfied smile but far from having quenched your thirst, cumming had ignited a fire in your core than could only be put out by his own release. You pulled him against you, kissing him with a passion he hadn't imagined to be possible, and pushed him towards his bed. 

The back of his knees hit the mattress and he fell down on his back, you wasted no time climbing after him, trailing your fingers up his legs and towards his member agonisingly slowly until finally, you brought his pyjama pants down and wrapped a hand around his cock. Aaron looked down. He liked how pretty the nail polish colour he had picked looked as your hand bopped up and down, jerking him off. But soon, all thoughts escaped him as you leant forward and licked a strip of skin before taking his tip in your mouth. 

Hotch hadn't had many blowjobs in his life, just a few in high school. Any sexual partners he had had after that weren't a fan of them, and he understood, even if he missed the feeling of it. You didn't seem to mind it, you seemed to enjoy it, even. Aaron felt his cock hit the back of your throat, you let out a stifled albeit pornographic moan and brought one hand to your core. Aaron's hand darted out to stop you, he couldn't bear the thought of you coming again without feeling your pretty cunt wrapped around his cock, tightening as you came. 

Obeying his silent order, you took him out of your mouth and shuffled upwards, sinking down on him seconds later. The effect of it was immediate, and Aaron couldn't help but chuckle. You usually weren't one to keep quiet, whether at work or in bed, once you weren't feeling shy anymore, you were quite vocal, but with him fully sheathed inside you, feeling you up so thoroughly, all thought left you and the only things to come out of your mouth were content little sighs and needy little whimpers. He couldn't lie, he liked the effect he had on you. 

You bucked your hips gently once you adjusted to his size but the speed wasn't up to his standards. Although Hotch liked slow and passionate sex as much as the next man, he had been waiting to feel you, to fill you, for weeks now. He would take his time in the morning. Hotch flipped you over, trapping you in between his furnace of a body and the bed as he pounded into you. Leading you from one orgasm to the next as he hit that spongey part of you that had you seeing stars over and over again. Soon, his thrusts faltered. He drove himself in you one last time before coming with a low grunt, painting your walls white with his release. 

After a few seconds, which he spent catching his breath and happily looking into your eyes, he pulled out of you. Aaron made his way to the bathroom, where you heard the water run for a moment before he reappeared, towel in hand to clean you up. 

"You were so good for me," he whispered as he wiped the cum off of your core, "So good, sweet girl. How about some sleep?" he offered, but before you could form your answer, your eyes grew heavy and you drifted off to sleep.

----

You stood under the jet of Hotch’s shower, soaping yourself up mindlessly, mentally preparing yourself to face the team and Strauss after spending the night -- and morning -- with Hotch. He had kept his promise and gone easy on you, but sex with Hotch was amazing and you now had to scramble to piece your brain back together in time to face your colleagues.

Remembering that Aaron still needed to shower, you stepped out, drying yourself off with the towel he had laid out for you before making your way into the bedroom. He was still lying in bed, naked and looking like a dream as he read the newspaper. 

“You want coffee?” he asked, moving one of his legs off of the mattress. 

“Sure,” you replied, allowing yourself to stare as he walked towards the coffee machine and poured you a cup. Aaron brought it to your, handing it over so you could wrap your hands around the ceramic and take a sip. You could see he wanted to say something, probably about last night, but he seemed to think better of it. 

“I need to go to my room to get changed,” you said, “See you at breakfast?”

“About yesterday --” he started, giving in to the urge.

“Please --”

“I just need to know if you were serious when you said you were in love with me?” he cut you off, “I need to know it wasn’t just the wine talking.”

“I was,” you replied. You came up to him, extending your arms around his neck and kissed his lips, “What’s that saying? Drunk words are sober thoughts?”

He grinned, “Just making sure," Hotch said. He looked into your eyes for a moment, his smile slowly fading, “And about resigning?”

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning in for another kiss. Aaron happily reciprocated, deepening the kiss almost immediately before pulling away a few seconds later

“You need to go,” he said, “Get changed, go to breakfast. Because if you keep kissing me, I might never let you leave this room,” he added.

You nodded, letting go of him before turning around and walking back to your own room, making sure to stay unseen by anyone possibly walking by. 

You made your way to the breakfast table ten minutes later, dressed and ready for the day. Hotch had agreed to arrive a little later, spacing out your arrivals would avoid raising suspicions. 

“Morning,” you said, waving slightly at Spencer, Derek and Rossi who had already taken their seat and filled their plates. The two younger men were engaged in a heated discussion and Derek did not hesitate in immediately pulling you in. 

“Favourite early morning tv shows when you were little?” Morgan asked 

“I was a Scooby Doo girl,” you said, sitting down on the nearest empty chair. 

“Ah hah!” he exclaimed triumphantly, “See, kid, no one watched college quiz shows before school.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer defended himself, a mouth full of scrambled eggs, “You asked her for tv shows! You never mentioned tv shows with me!”

“Okay, favourite early morning tv show, then?” He asked again, pointing a half eaten croissant at Spencer

You looked down at the boys’ plates, Spencer had loaded three plates with eggs, a gravity defying pile of pancakes and a few pieces of watermelon while Morgan had skipped all healthy options and gone for all the chocolate containing pastries you could find. Right on cue, your stomach growled

“I liked Wishbone,” he said, chewing through the overcooked egg.

“That weird show about the dog?” You asked, vaguely remembering catching an episode or two as a kid whenever nothing else was on.

“Yeah, I liked it. It was cute. And my mom used to say it was the only decent thing on tv because at least it taught us about literature,” Spencer replied.

“Spencer --” you started, about to bring out some statistics of your own on the success of the show. 

“Morning team,” Hotch said, appearing behind Morgan already dressed in his crisply iron work suit, a stark contrast from the casual clothes everyone else wore, “How did everyone sleep?” he asked, quickly glancing over at you with a barely-there smirk. 

“Like a log,” Morgan replied

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked

“Good as new,” Hotch replied, “My voice is still a little hoarse, but that’s par for the course,” he added, leaning over to grab the coffee pot. 

“Come get breakfast with me,” Morgan said, tapping your arm lightly to catch your attention. You stood up and followed him towards the buffet, stopping a few feet away from the table to tie your shoelace.

“I know I’m not much. I look like a pipe cleaner with eyes, and I have the strength of a nine year old girl, but I need you to understand something,” Spencer said, his voice lowered so you wouldn’t hear and staring straight at his morning cup of tea, “Y/n is my best friend,” he continued. He took a deep breath, gathering all the courage he had, and looked at Hotch, “You hurt her and I will hurt you.”

“How did you figure it out?” Hotch asked after a pause, mentally going through everything that could have betrayed you and finding nothing.

“I spend enough time around you to recognise the smell of your body wash, sir,” Spencer replied with a small smile, “And I’m being serious.”

“I know,” Hotch replied, “I’ll take care of her,” he promised.

[zhoras-bitch]

Shadows Creeping

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow, Book 2

Pairing: Aerin Valleros x elf!f!MC (Reina 'Ray' Nightbloom)

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood, torture, involuntary drug use, vague sexual themes, crippling guilt, general sense of hopelessness, Valax is exaggeratedly evil

Word count: 3.2K

Summary: After a botched raid on the Ash Empire outpost, Aerin finds himself locked in a tight chase with Princess Valax. The labyrinthine dungeons beneath the Shadow Court Fortress stir up some of his darkest memories. Will he be able to escape Valax, or the ghosts of his past?

A/N: Post book 2 chapter 8. The story is mostly inspired by @secret-fungi with a little bit of @spacetravels. Valax is very OOC in that I made her so evil (for the plot!) I actually feel kind of bad about it. Also, shamelessly using this as an opportunity to practice writing action sequences. Enjoy (you won't).

Taking a sharp left, Aerin dives into the secret alcove behind an inconspicuous shabby tapestry and slowly slides down the cold stone wall, greedily gasping for air. Thank the gods he has memorized the layout of the dungeons beneath the Shadow Court Fortress so well, even if the Ash Empire has… redecorated the place since they took over. Admittedly, he hasn't had the chance to properly look around—and he really, really hopes to keep it that way. Still, this little chase, unfortunately, left him enough time to notice the fresh blood spatters in some of the empty cells and hear the blood-chilling screams of unfortunate souls trapped deeper in the labyrinth of these wretched hallways. 

'Lovely,' Aerin mutters to himself, allowing his eyes to close for just a second. 'Very lived-in.'

His solace is hopelessly fleeting, shattered by the distinct clicking of heels against cold stone. Distant for now, the footsteps echo ominously in the dim candlelit hallway—the only path that could lead Aerin to freedom. And each one of them is louder than the last.

'The famous Prince Aerin,' Valax's voice seems to resonate through every nook and cranny of the dungeons, a low purr of a big cat about to jump its prey. 'Please forgive us for the cold welcome, your highness. We didn't realize we would be receiving such an esteemed guest.'

So they have identified him already. That's unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected. One of the guards must've recognized him during the earlier scuffle. Aerin bites his tongue, fighting the urge to curse, knowing that any sound would instantly reveal his hiding place. It was supposed to be a straightforward mission — get in, grab the supplies, get out. Two hours, maybe three, tops. Or it would be, hadn't he run directly into a squad of the most elite Ash Empire soldiers, led by Princess Valax herself. Why was she here, anyway? Last he checked, she was supposed to be chasing Ray and her merry band of intrepid adventurers all over the forests of Morella.

And yet, here she was.

'I've heard so much about you, you know. It's almost as if we're acquainted in absentia.'

Of course she has. Aerin knows what they say about him in the Ash Empire. Dreadlord's errand boy. His resident Lightrealmer lap dog. His little—

Aerin bites the inside of his cheek, hard. Distracting him is precisely what Valax wants. The self-pity can wait until after he's free. Now, he needs to think.

His bag of supplies has grown much lighter after he parted ways with Ray and others. The Shadow Realm's charred wastelands can be challenging to find herbs in. Especially the healing ones — the migraine has been killing him. And the skirmish with the soldiers earlier has depleted his already very unimpressive reserves even further. But surely, he can come up with something?

His fingers fumble through his bag, searching for something—anything—until finally closing around a half-empty pouch of dry resin, and Aerin clutches it so tightly that his knuckles grow white. Yes, it isn't much, but it will suffice—and at that moment, that's all he's asking for.

The approaching footsteps grow uncomfortably closer, each one counting down the seconds before his demise. Aerin's heartbeat matches their eerie rhythm, but he's ready. With swift precision, he sends a tiny pouch of flaming resin skidding across the floor toward Valax's feet and the next moment, it erupts in a thick cloud of bitter black smoke. Aerin launches. He can feel the rush of air as Valax's hand nearly grazes his hood, but the surprise is on his side. Twisting like an eel, he slips away from her outstretched grasp and bolts.

He knows better than to believe that his little diversion will stall Valax for long, his instinct keen as ever. Behind him, a fierce gust of wind, strong enough to bend trees, sweeps the smoke away in one fell swoop. A second more, and it might have toppled Aerin too, but he lunges into the nearest open chamber just in time. Behind him, the heavy metal door slams shut with a deafening boom. 

The room he finds himself in is peculiar. A large, dimly lit chamber welcomes him with the quiet hum of strange machines, the ticking and clicking of odd knick-knacks and the soft glow of iridescent vials. Metals cages bare their bars ominously in the dark corners of the room. His gaze takes it all with greedy interest. At a better time, Aerin could spend hours here, figuring out the purpose of each strange device and weird contraption. Now, though, he scarcely has a moment to take cover behind one of the towering metallic cabinets and calm his breath. Just in the nick of time before the door opens again.

Valax pierces the room with her dark, heavy gaze, no doubt noticing every minute detail before stepping inside. Her steps are slow and deliberate as she circles the room, a shark sensing the smell of blood, and each time her heel connects with the floor, it's a sledgehammer blow to Aerin's temples.

'Your friend Reina told me so much about you, you know,' Valax purrs.

Every one of her words is a stone in an avalanche. But it's not even the words themselves; it is the sheer wrongness of hearing that name uttered by this voice that truly shakes Aerin to his very core. He knows Ray is not particularly fond of her full name, not really. She told him she'd always found it too old-fashioned. It made her sound like some stuck-up Whitetower noble, she said.

Unless it was him who called her that.

'Ah, we've had so many wonderful times together. In this very room, actually,' Valax continues. From his vantage point, Aerin can clearly see Valax's hand as it tenderly caresses the large stone table in the centre of the room. As his eyes follow her movement, it dawns on him that the table has leather straps at each corner. 'Yes, she became quite talkative at times. Especially after I treated her to a bit of belladonna and dreamroot tonic.'

A chilling shiver slithers down Aerin's spine. He's familiar with the effects of belladonna tonic. Thank Vostrasz, that sadistic bastard. He loved dosing his victims with this vile concoction and watching them as they screamed, unable to escape the visions of their worst nightmares. Aerin has witnessed its effects once, the memory carved into his mind. A young man, skin glistening with cold sweat, empty eyes with freakishly wide pupils staring at something only he could see, dry lips whispering a desperate plea as tears streamed down his face. 

As if compelled by some wicked force, his gaze is drawn back to the stone table. For a haunting second, he can see Ray's lifeless body sprawled upon it. Bile surges in his throat. He shuts his eyes and clenches his fists.

'She screamed so loudly. Screamed until she had no voice left to scream with. Would you like to know what she screamed, your highness?'

He needs to get out of here.

As Valax turns her back to him, Aerin seizes the opportunity and hurls a small pebble to the far corner of the room, where it lands in a tiny clink. Valax's head snaps towards the sound, and Aerin jumps, throwing his whole body onto the massive cabinet serving as his cover. The cabinet creeks, staggers, and topples right towards Valax's head. Vials and boxes spill across the chamber in a cacophony of clatter and crashing. Amid the ensuing chaos, Aerin rushes towards the exit, swiping a bunch of supplies laid out on one of the side tables into his bag.

Unfortunately, he doesn't make it all the way. Valax, with her inhuman strength, halts the toppling cabinet mid-air with a single hand. Crouched behind an overturned table, Aerin can see the dark veins pulsing on Valax's forearm as she holds the cabinet still for a moment, metal crumpling like paper tissue under her fingers, then shoves it back into the wall. One of the glass vials must have shattered against her forehead because he can see a strange iridescent liquid mingling with dark blood as it slowly trickles down her brow, but otherwise, Valax doesn't look hurt at all. Just pissed.

Holding his breath so as not to make a single sound, Aerin frantically sorts through the ingredients he managed to snatch. There is some dry hemlock and foxglove. A vial of dragonfly wings. A pouch of saltpetre and sugar. Oh, if only there was sulphur… Please, let there be sulphur…

In his frantic state, Valax's voice is cold and still like a blade. 'Don't do it, Aerin. That's what she said... She seemed so scared, too. Terrified. I wonder what you did to scare her so badly, your highness?'

Aerin grits his teeth, forcing his hands to keep working through the tiny vials, but his mind is, unfortunately, much harder to control. He knows nothing of Ray's nightmares—there is no way he could know—but he's got plenty of his own. And as Valax's words keep ringing in his ears, one in particular raises its ugly head. 

Smears of blood blooming on the throne room floor. A portal buzzing with dark magic. Tang of metal and ozone in the air. Nia—the priestess's limp body in his arms. He tries not to look at her face—it's easier this way. Instead, he only looks into the portal, Shadow Realm's lifeless landscape spread out before his eyes. He's so close. One tiny step away. But just before he's about to take it, he glances back.

Briefly, his mind registers Mal's face, twisted with rage. The terror in Tyril's eyes. Imtura's teeth bared in a scorching scowl. But in the end, it's her face that is burned into the back of his eyelids.

Her cheeks, oddly wet. Her body, trembling ever so slightly. She looks so tiny at that moment. So lost, like a puppet with her strings cut. And so utterly, heartbreakingly sad. She doesn't make a sound, but her lips curve around the words, and Aerin swears he can hear her voice as she pleads, 'Don't do it.'

'Maybe you should try being afraid of me as well!' Aerin erupts, letting go of the pent-up anger as he hurls the burning concoction he mixed up at Valax, then dives through the doorway. Behind him, the makeshift bomb explodes with a deafening roar of fire, its fiery breath shuffling the hair on Aerin's nape. The skin on his hands and knees burns, scraped from the clumsy fall. But the pain is so worth it. So worth the feeling of dark satisfaction blazing through his veins. Having this place where Ray suffered countless days and nights reduced to ashes… It's invigorating. 

Celebration will have to wait, though. Aerin knows that destroying Valax herself won't be as simple as her laboratory. The echoes of the explosion still ringing in his ears, he scrambles to his feet and takes off in the direction of the dungeon's exit.

He doesn't get far before the sinister sound of Valax's approaching footsteps reaches him again.

'So, the Dreadlord's little lapdog has some bite, too. Still, that won't be enough,' Valax… giggles? It's a disturbing, chilling sound that makes the hairs on Aerin's arms stand on end. 'Unfortunately for you, you don't have quite the same… effect on me as you do on the Realmwalker.'

In this dark, horrifying dungeon, her voice rings with eerie delight, as if she's remembering a very funny joke, and Aerin is not in on it.

Aerin has no time to dwell on it, though. Reaching a crossroads, he takes a sharp right and, hiding behind the corner, steals a glance over his shoulder. As expected, Valax is closing in, tendrils of smoke and shadow swirling around her body as though she carries a piece of the very fire he started on her.

'You see, the Realmwalker and I have spent so much time together. Months… Why, I would almost consider us to be close friends! And she has told me many, many things over those months… About you, too! Aren't you curious, little princeling?'

Why are you listening to her, his mind screams out. She doesn't know where he is. She's just baiting him. Trying to get a reaction, provoke him into revealing himself. There is no reason to believe a single venomous word that escapes her lips.

'I'm sorry, Aerin. That is one of my favourites. Do you like it, princeling?'

Lies, lies, lies, every single word of hers. After all, whatever would she ask his forgiveness for when everything… Everything is his fault. And yet, as Valax's words echo in his ears, Aerin swears he can hear her voice—

Ray has always been so strong. He's seen her in battle, the hero of Morella, as deadly as she is beautiful. But her heart… He knew her tender, bleeding heart. Always too kind to people who didn't deserve it. To people like him.

Of all things, his mind goes back to the night of the fair in Riverbend—their night. He remembers her skin, dressed in nothing but candlelight, her body melting under his touch like wax as he kissed her thighs. The mighty hero, in his arms, exposed down to her very soul. It struck him then, the power he held. At that moment, he could break her. It wouldn't even be hard.

The thought terrified him. He had power, once. And look where it got him. Power… It brings out the darkness within people. Most live and die without ever truly experiencing it, but Aerin has seen his shadow already. He looked it in the eye. And that is how he knew he could never allow himself to touch her again.

He clenches his teeth and tries to melt into the shadows, away from Valax's piercing gaze.

'Come back, she said. Oh, why wouldn't you come back to her, princeling?'

Aerin knows he shouldn't listen. But every word that falls from Valax's lips is a drop of acid eating away at his very soul. Perhaps that's why he doesn't notice the shadowy tendril winding around his ankle.

Pale rays of early dawn filter into the tent as Aerin hastily packs the last of his admittedly unimpressive belongings.

Ray still lies amidst the crumpled sheets, her hair tousled on the pillow. She's asleep, yet her brows are still knitted together in a painful frown.

That night, he didn't sleep at all, the chatter of his own thoughts too loud to let him rest. For a while, he just laid there, silently studying her face. She whimpers in her sleep. What awful things does she see when she closes her eyes? He didn't know; he just stroked her hair tenderly until she seemed to calm down. Her frown never went away, though. Why is it that every time she is with him, she looks like she's in pain? The thought made him feel ill.

Finally, he secures his bag and steps toward the exit, his goodbye letter resting on the nightstand. Before him stretches the forest that skirts the edges of Riverbend, tranquil and beautiful in its robe made of golden dew. But just as he's about to step into the dawn, he glances back. He just can't help himself.

As though sensing his gaze, she stirs in her slumber and raises her head. Aerin freezes. Her lavender eyes twinkle for just a second, half-obscured beneath the heavy fawn lashes. From her perplexed expression, it is clear she's not yet fully awake.

'Aerin?' she exhales.

'Yes,' Aerin replies, the word sticking in his throat. 'It's me.'

He's utterly still, fearing that any sudden movement or noise will awaken her further, revealing him standing there. Fully clothed. With his belongings in tow.

'Come back,' she asks, her feather-soft voice piercing right through his heart.

'I'm just getting some water. Go back to sleep.'

It's so hard to keep his voice straight, but he manages. He's lied for so long it's become second nature. Finally, Ray lets out a compliant hum, seemingly convinced by his words, and falls back onto the pillow. Aerin lingers for a few more moments, then finally walks away. Her voice still echoes in his ears, but his mind is made up. This is for the best. If he stays away, he won't be able to hurt her again.

That's the lie he keeps telling himself.

The shadow yanks him closer to its master. Aerin almost loses his balance but rolls away at the very last second. In one fluid motion, he draws a short blade from the sheath on his shin and slices through the tendril, freeing himself.

But it's too late. Valax stands in front of him, and behind his back, the corridor stretches into a dead end.

In one last desperately hopeless attempt, he tightens his grip on the hilt and lunges at Valax.

'Help me,' Valax whispers, the plea laced with cruel amusement.

His stomach drops, and his head spins, but he almost manages to keep his composure. Almost.

Valax leans into his attack, sidestepping at the very last moment, and strikes his wrist with an open palm, sending his dagger clattering across the dungeon floor. Her other hand grabs his throat and slams him into the wall like he weighs nothing at all. The back of his head connects with stone in a hollow thud. It's over.

Valax's clawed fingers tighten around his neck as she studies his face with a ruthless smile.

'You'll serve as bait quite nicely,' she declares.

'You're wasting your time,' Aerin chokes out. 'She won't come for me.'

But his lie rings hollow. He might have believed it once, but not anymore. Not for a while. As if reading his mind, Valax smirks.

'Oh, but I think she will.'

Ray will come for him. Once upon a time, this thought would've filled his stomach with butterflies, but at this moment, it sounds like hollow dread. She will come here, into the Shadow Court Fortress, right into Valax's eager clutches. Because of him.

How foolish he was to think that her anguish would end if he just stepped away. Even now, even here, he's still putting her in danger. Still hurting her. He really is good for absolutely nothing, isn't he?

Darkness begins to engulf his vision, but just before it consumes him entirely, Valax abruptly releases her grip. Aerin collapses to the ground, his body limp, coughing violently.

'But until she does, we have much to discuss,' Valax says, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling until Aerin meets her gaze. Her eyes are dark and cruel as she studies his face. Then she grins. 'I wonder if you'll scream her name too, little princeling.'

She doesn't need to guess. She knows he will.

[peekychu]

hi, ive loved your art forever, finally working up the courage to send an ask ahshdjfjf

when i was a kid i was really attached to the pokemon anime and i remember that one episode about the charmander being left all alone in the rain, and then being saved by ash and given a chance to recover, i remember projecting so hard onto it and wanting to be given that chance as well, to have someone save me like that. anyways, your art has always made me Feel Things, theres a very sentimental quality to your art and the way you design characters. i connect a lot with your sadder stuff as well. youre very good at storytelling in your work, especially that piece with ray about wanting to return to the places in your childhood but not ever experiencing them the same way. man, you hit that feeling right on the head.

anyways, where was i going with this. i struggle a lot with trying to reclaim some parts of my childhood, it took me a lot to even remember that i projected so much onto that charmander. but seeing a pikachu be so.. i dont know, happy about connecting with pokemon so much, it just, it means a lot to me. i used my imagination as escapism and id like to try and reconnect with it. i am using your art as a guide and as inspiration.. i feel like i can get close to that again.

i hope animal friends brings you joy and i will be so happy if you choose to share any of it. and im sorry about your job, ive been in that exact situation, stay strong

sincerely, one online animal beast to another <3

Oh my GOD, this ask is so touching idek where to start answering 😭😭😭 Wow, thank you!!!

Instant follow btw, ur drawings are so dynamic and sensory, and HOLY moly your anatomy skills 🤯 I’m super honored!!!

I honestly forget ppl ever see my more sad/melancholy drawings, I wasn’t expecting it to affect me so hard hearing someone mention it xD Drawing is one of the few vessels I can properly channel my emotions with, and there’s a lot more raw stuff I don’t share online. I never know if the catharsis I feel drawing the Heavier stuff translates, because I still center those drawings around silly animals xD

I’m so happy you were able to rediscover your connection with Ash’s charmander!! That episode always made me emotional too 💔 I can’t say where my lifelong fixation on Pikachu really began, but my mom told me that even before I engaged with anything pkmn related, I was just immediately enamored by seeing it at a store or on TV xD

Eventually she took me to see Pokémon 4ever in theaters, and I vaguely remember being instantly ENCHANTED by the little short movie before the actual film began. Those animated shorts of Pikachu with all its friends, no humans attached, were always this ultimate comfort fantasy for me to watch xD

As my identity and personality fluctuates, I always find it comforting being grounded in my connection to Pikachu. The episode where it refused to evolve stuck with me on a deep level too haha.

ANYWAYS UHH I can’t thank you enough for your kind words!!!! I am holding ur paw, you stay strong too!

[basicallyahedgehog]

Happy birthday darling Fay @thesleepiesthufflepuff!!! You are such a ray of light and a joy to know, and I am so so so grateful to be able to call you my friend. You deserve the whole world, but I hope this fluffy little thing inspired by Clodagh and her jammies will suffice. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays and all the puppy snuggles today.

Harry paced restlessly up and down the hallway as he waited for the dog trainer to arrive. It had seemed like a good idea at the time — Dog needed to be trained, and No Bark, No Bite had the highest ratings in the neighbourhood. Harry had been full of hope as he’d filled out the online form, visions of long walks with his faithful companion swimming through his head. It had all come crashing down, however, when the confirmation email came through. 

“Draco Malfoy will see you at 10am on Wednesday morning.”

So here Harry was, contemplating whether he could just live with the fact that Dog refused to go outside so that he could escape the doom that was fast approaching.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Malfoy anymore. No, he quite liked the git now that they had all grown up a bit and let bygones be bygones. The problem was quite the opposite, really. Because Malfoy — Draco — was smart and witty and charming and fucking fit. And Harry knew Draco worked with animals. Knew his job was in Harry’s own neighbourhood. And now he was coming here to Harry’s house and he’d know that Harry was fucking incompetent — and a liar, because Harry had told him only three days ago that everything was fine and he didn’t need help with his new puppy but thank you very much.

He was so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

-----

Draco chewed on his lips as he walked up the path, once again questioning the wisdom in taking this job. He should have handed the client on to Cassie as soon as he saw the name. Should have packed his bags and move to another country. Because now he had to work with Harry and be professional. Had to pretend that the mere idea of Harry with a puppy didn’t make his insides melt. 

He sucked in a breath and knocked on the door, relaxing minutely when he heard a faint crash from inside followed by colourful swearing. At least he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. 

Harry opened the door, his hair even more wild than it was on pub nights. A tiny black puppy crouched behind him, eyeing the open door in fascination but making no move to step outside. 

“Potter.” Draco held out his hand, determined to remain professional. “How can I help you?”

-----

A disaster. It was all a terrible disaster. 

Draco had stayed barely half an hour before declaring he knew the problem, but wouldn’t be able to fix it today. He had almost run back down the street, as if he couldn’t stand to be near Harry any longer. 

Harry knew he was weird and awkward, but he thought he’d had it vaguely under control that morning.

Sure, he had a dog named Dog. Well, Dumbledog, at Teddy’s insistence, but even Harry wasn’t strange enough to go around calling the poor little thing by her full name. And yes, he couldn’t work a normal job like Draco did, and yes, Dog was largely purchased with the plan to train her as a therapy dog to help him with his anxiety. And yes, he was so fucking gone on Draco that he could barely string two sentences together. 

But that didn’t mean Draco had to run away, did it?

He could only hope that he would be able to hold himself together better next time they saw each other.

-----

A disaster. It was all a terrible disaster. 

Harry had been so sweet and so concerned about his dog, all of Draco’s heartstrings had been stretched beyond their limits. And he had a dog named Dog of all things, which Draco would have laughed at if it had been anyone else. Instead it was Harry, and Draco felt all stretched out and upside down. Like nothing in the world could ever be the same now that he had seen Harry cuddle a tiny, wriggly ball of fluff named Dog.

So here he was, a tangle of yarn in his lap, knitting needles in one hand and instruction book in the other. Because poor Dog was cold and there was only one thing he could do when faced with a puppy who refused to go on walks with Harry Potter due to the cold.

Learn to knit doggy jumpers.

-----

Harry was baffled. 

“So, Dog was just cold?”

“Yeah,” Draco replied, tucking Dog’s paws through the front legs of her new little jumper. “Hopefully this is enough, but we might need to get her booties too if her feet are sensitive.”

“They sell booties for dogs?”

“The Muggles do, yeah. They’re quite sweet, actually.”

Harry blinked. Had Draco just called a Muggle invention sweet?

“Could we not just use a warming charm?” Dog looked very sweet in her jumper, but Harry couldn’t help be confused by the fact that Draco hadn’t immediately turned to magic. 

“Oh, Dog is allergic to warming charms. I checked last time, but you were so worried about her I didn’t want to say anything until I had a solution.”

“Oh.” Harry could only stare at Draco, silently willing his expression into something acceptable. “Thank you, Draco. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

This man was going to be the death of him.

-----

This man was going to be the death of him.

“Dog is allergic to warming charms,” he muttered to himself furiously. “Honestly, Draco, could you have been any more obvious?”

He sunk into his couch, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know how Harry hadn’t seen right through him, he hadn’t even tried to hide how stupidly in love he was.

Love. Fuck. He loved Harry Potter and now he’d lied to him and fucking learnt to knit for his dog and…

There was only one thing left to do.

-----

“So she needed the booties, then?” Harry blinked sleepily at Draco, who had turned up unexpectedly while Harry and Dog were having a nap. 

“Well, she seemed to walk happily last week, but I thought it was better safe than sorry. How has she been?”

“She’s been great! I think the jacket has really helped, thank you so much.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll leave you to it then.” 

Draco began to walk away, and Harry made a snap decision. 

“Wait! Did you want to come for a walk with us? You know, to check on Dog’s progress?”

Harry was an idiot. A sweet, bumbling, adorable idiot. And Draco was a fool.

Dog had loved their walk, prancing through the fallen leaves and chasing squirrels as far as her lead would allow. Harry, however, had looked positively miserable as his eyes watered and his nose streamed and his fingers turned blue.

“I told you to bundle up, Potter,” Draco had said, only half of his old sneer coming through. 

“I put an extra sweater on!” Harry had exclaimed, as if a sweater would keep his extremities warm. 

“What about a hat? A scarf? Some mittens?”

“Oh,” Harry said, tilting his head in thought. “I don’t think I own any. Gave them all to Dobby.”

“Potter, Dobby died ten years ago.” He’d tried to be soft, tried not to snap at the foolish, stupid man beside him.

“I guess I just didn’t think about it.”

And so now Draco was awake at 2am, for the third night in a row, knitting furiously.

-----

“And I thought he’d just bought the little sweater for Dog, and I thought it was sweet that he’d found booties that matched. But…but these all showed up on my doorstep yesterday, and they all match Dog’s things, and I don’t know what it means.”

Harry sat on Ron and Hermione’s couch, head in hands, a pile of knitwear on the floor in front of him. The hat, scarf and mittens had been on his front step that morning when he and Dog went for their first walk of the day. There hadn’t been a note, but the yarn was so distinctive. They could have only come from one person.

“Harry.” Hermione spoke gently, as if she had something important to say and didn’t know how Harry would take it. “Why would Draco buy Dog a sweater instead of just using a warming charm?”

“He said Dog was allergic to them. Said he checked on his first visit but didn’t want to worry me.”

Ron made a strange choking noise before excusing himself to the kitchen.

“Harry, charms can’t cause allergies.”

“But…why would he buy her a sweater then?” 

“Harry…” Hermione looked at him softly, as if pleading with him to figure out what she already had. He looked again at the bundle of yarn on the floor, at the uneven stitches and slightly lumpy shapes.

“He didn’t buy them, did he?”

Hermione grabbed his hand. “No, Harry. He didn’t.”

“But, why?”

Ron’s voice came from behind them. “HE’S FUCKING COURTING YOU, MATE.”

-----

Draco trudged up Harry’s front path. He’d promised himself after last time that he wouldn’t be back, but he’d gotten a text from Harry that morning asking him to come over. 

He’d tried not to hope, tried to ignore the warmth swelling in his chest. 

If Harry had figured it out, surely he would have said something before now. After all, it had almost been a week since he’d dropped off the knitwear.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the door opening, but he couldn’t ignore the exuberant ball of fluff jumping all over him. The exuberant ball of fluff wearing…a knitted bow tie?

“She was meant to give you this, but she was too excited to wait for me to tie it on.” Draco looked up from Dog to see Harry standing in front of him, a timid smile on his face as he held out a small roll of parchment. Draco took it tentatively, eyes flicking back to Harry as he unrolled it.

My owner is an idiot, but some would say that makes him cute.

Will you go out with him? Dog is optional on dates.

Harry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as Draco read and reread the scroll. 

This was a terrible idea, he should have bought flowers or whiskey or-

Draco dropped the scroll, his face unreadable as he stood. Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, but then it didn’t matter because Draco was reaching for him and cradling his head and kissing him.

Maybe he hadn’t been so stupid, after all.

[holly-fixation]

Silver Turncoat: Chapter 5

Summary: The golden child’s first mission was supposed to be a simple extermination of a people preventing Shinra rule. It was what he was trained for. What he was made for. But when a blond roughly his age gives him the chance to escape the life Shinra has planned for him, he’s given the first real choice of his entire life.

This was their one and only chance to make it to the western continent.

Inspired by this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please enjoy!

Chapter 5: Come Home

Dark clouds intercepted the sun’s magnificent rays an hour before they reached the mighty city. Water began falling just as they entered Old Junon, the lower level abandoned by Shinra with the exception of the guarded elevator. The quaint nature of the remaining fishing town stirred curiosity in Sephiroth's heart along with an odd buzzing in his mind, but they had no time to waste on passive ailments. 

They entered the first store on the right, a backwater name not worth remembering. The youngest spotted the hooded cloaks they absolutely needed. The elder collected two shirts, pairs of pants, pairs of socks, and even pairs of shoes. 

“Is that all?” 

Cloud nodded. “This is everything. We’d also like to sell.”

“Let’s see what adds up first. No point in handing you gil just to give it right back.”

Sephiroth lifted the large leather bag onto the counter. He vaguely heard a mumble of ‘good gods’ before the shopkeeper dared to open it, shifting both dull and sharp spoils with a ruler: untreated leathers, monster claws, horns, teeth, and even edible meat saved in its own sealed sack.

She rocked her head as she calculated quickly. “Deducting the price of those… ten thousand eight hundred gil. Take it or leave it.”

That wasn't nearly the number they hoped for, but this town was poor and the monsters weren't too difficult to kill.

“Thank you.” 

She placed the gil in Cloud's gloved hand and he pocketed it immediately. 

“Do you know where the nearest restroom is?”

“There're a few stalls two allies away on your left. The signs are worn down but the water works. If you don't mind me asking, why are you guys dressed like that? I heard you're not allowed to alter your uniforms.”

Cloud gave a small chuckle. They prepared for this question. “Because this guy,” he wrapped an arm around the helmeted teen and pulled him off balance. According to the blond, this was usual behavior for ‘buddies’. It still felt weird though. “Forgot all his civilian clothes back in Corel and didn’t want everyone assuming he’s on duty.” 

Sephiroth looked away, hoping the shopkeeper would perceive it as shame. 

“Why not take the helmet off?”

“Oh… Can I tell her?” His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. 

The helmet nodded. 

“He has a horrible scar on the left side of his face. A nasty accident in a mako reactor. He's alright, but he doesn't like the looks he gets.”

“Oh that’s horrible. Hey,” the woman suddenly placed her hand on his shoulder. The supposed cadet instantly went rigid. “I totally get that. My husband kept his face bandaged for a year after he got fish hook stuck in his cheek. It took less than half the time to heal, but he was terribly afraid of the looks. Oh! Here.” She let go of him and slipped a pair of cheap sunglasses off a small rotating shelf on the counter. “It's on the house. One scar bearer to another.”

The boy took them and nodded. This must be that ‘small town kindness’ Cloud once explained to him. Cloud explained a lot to him. “Thank you for your kindness…” He kept his voice low and airy. 

She didn't recognize it. Thank gods. They collected the bag of their clothes and swept into the alley. Without speaking, Cloud handed Sephiroth his portion and they slipped into the stalls. 

Discarding his sword was by far more difficult, but discarding his armor affected him as well. It was, however, far easier to stuff the remainder of his armor and uniform into the helmet than to bury his weapon in the middle of nowhere. He heard Cloud exit first, swiping the helmet from under the stall as Sephiroth finished putting on the new pants. He heard Cloud continue the next step of their plan, shoving both uniforms and the helmet to the bottom of the trashcan near the sink. Then he heard the constant spinning of the paper towel roll as Cloud covered up the evidence. 

For a brief moment, he wondered what Hojo would think if he saw him right now. Then it hit. 

The buzzing in his mind spiked just before he unlocked the stall door, suddenly falling to his knees and holding his head. 

“Seth! Are you okay?!” Cloud called his simple alias, but it muffled against the internal shatter. 

Endure the pain, Sephiroth. You have yet to reach your threshold. 

The more you endure, the greater the power that will awaken within you. 

The laugh echoing in his mind nearly made him shutter. He didn't even notice the small grunt of pain that left his lips. 

“Hey.”

He felt a hand on his arm under the stall door. 

“Breath slowly. Deep breaths.”

The teen obeyed unconsciously before the weakness drained and he stepped to his feet, opening the lock. The buzzing lessened to the same intensity he entered the city with. “Sorry. I suddenly felt… uncomfortable.”

Cloud seemed to ignore him as he scanned his face for the truth. 

“I'm fine now. Let's go.”

“We can come back tomorrow. We can turn back right now and no one would know.” 

“The ship won't return for two days. It’ll be too risky circling the city. We need this done today. I'm fine.”

Cloud hated this. Sephiroth could see it. But he also saw there were no other logical options. The longer they waited on this continent, the greater risk of Shinra finding them. Gods forbid the company captured them. Sephiroth shuddered at the thought of the discipline waiting in the lab. He couldn't claim he was taken prisoner anymore. He actively aided in their travel to find his mother. 

“Once we get on that elevator, there’s no turning back. This is the last chance we have to get proper rest.”

Sephiroth looked at Cloud with calculating slit eyes but ultimately landed on the same conclusion. “Let's go.”

The blond handed him the sunglasses. 

He had forgotten, taking them and shielding his inhuman eyes.

At the base of the elevator, Cloud simply paid the ten gil and they left without issue. Cloud explained on the ride up that it was probably the end of the man’s shift. No one cared about anything at the end of a shift, especially two teens that looked like mako addicts with their baggy clothes and cloaks. 

* * * 

The bustling upper city was a nightmare. Cloud’s hand itched with instinct to protect the freed soldier behind him. He knew their luck wouldn’t last forever. He only prayed there was enough left over to get them on that passenger ship. 

Banners he once saw decorate the city with celebration now begged for action. Every inch of available banners and advertising boards were covered in the image of the golden child with the title ‘we miss you’. Posters begged for accurate information with the promise of reward. Every shop tuned into the same news station, an eerie lull under all activity constantly updating the city on whereabouts and progress made in the search, fusing with the constant blare of air traffic above. Television screens silently displayed President Shinra's speech, the captions claiming the soldier was like a son to him and they were searching every corner of The Planet to find him. 

Messages in apartment windows read ‘Sephiroth come home’, some written in large colorful crayon with unpracticed hands. 

The silver haired teen unconsciously tucked his head further into his hood as they began their trek through the crowded sidewalk. The blond led the way and snaked through the crowd, the teen trailing close behind. Ten blocks. They just needed to walk ten blocks and they'd be halfway there. 

But with the eighth block completed, Sephiroth collapsed. They had no time for questions. Cloud quickly threw the boy’s arm over his shoulders and guided the soldier to a dirty alley, not a single stranger offering their aid or concern as they walked around the two. The teen grunted and groaned, trying to hide the noises under his breath even now. 

“What happened?” The blond asked as he slowly lowered them to the ground, Sephiroth's back sliding against the brick wall. “What's happening?”

His hands were on his head, pulling his hood down to avoid reaching for his hair or knocking off the sunglasses. “I-I don't know. Ah…” the strength in his voice wavered with each word leaving his lips. 

Why did this new problem have to start today? “We have time. We can wait it out. Breath.” He kept a hand on the black cloaked shoulder, trying to ground this invisible ache. 

Time only worsened the phantom pain, each tick of the clock raising its power. Sephiroth’s groans only grew sharper and louder despite his strength. “We need to go…!”

Cloud opened his mouth to argue.

“They’ll spot here… We need to leave now…!”

Damn it. He helped Sephiroth stand without another word. He hoped the teen's debilitated state would at least keep Shinra’s eyes away. After all, why would Sephiroth ever need help? Side by side, the horde of people tried less to avoid them, bumping into both of them as they tried to sneak by. The teen desperately grasped the hood in his fist, praying no one saw his face or his hair. 

Cloud led them to the cargo bay, the path thankfully familiar enough. He found an exhausted sailor by the loading dock and offered his aid loading the ship in exchange for passage for him and his sick ‘brother’. The cadet agreed with a bribe of five thousand gil, claiming security was tight thanks to the golden child’s disappearance. Thankfully the ‘brother’ comment prevented the need to see the other hooded boy’s face. Cloud sat the soldier in against one of the many stacks within the hanger. He only returned when the task was complete and the ship was moments from leaving port.

“Are you any better?” He kept his voice low, careful of any sailors that weren’t willing to stay quiet for a few thousand gil. 

Sephiroth shook his head as Cloud took a seat next to him, both of them stuck between two containers for the next twenty four hours. He rested his head on his arms and knees, but nothing soothed it.

The blond breathed softly. “Here. Lean on my shoulder.”

He clearly didn’t understand because he didn’t answer, only muffling long cries of pain. 

“Just try it. It might help.”

Sephiroth shifted slowly, turning and resting his forehead on the brown cloaked shoulder. The slightest bit of tension left his body.

“Better?”

“A little… nh…”

Cloud had absolutely no idea what was happening, and Sephiroth didn’t either. The silver soldier suffered even as the ship began moving. Ten minutes passed at sea before his small grunts finally stopped. The blond waited, but the soldier did not speak or move, remaining exactly where he was.

“...did it stop?” Cloud prompted after another moment.

Sephiroth looked away before slowly sitting up, freeing Cloud from his touch. “...Yes.”

“Do you know what it was? Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’re better. That’s what matters.”

The teen removed his sunglasses before glancing at the ground, his face stone but his eyes revealing. 

“Do you want to lean on me again? I didn’t say you had to stop.” The glare he gained was full of distrust. That Cloud could identify. “Really. I mean it.” He tapped his open shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“Why do you do this?”

His yellow brows knotted. “Do what?”

“Why do you…” He trailed off, holding his head in his hands in frustration.

“...I don’t want to push anything on you. I just know you’re not used to putting yourself first. I’m offering. If you really don’t want it, you don’t have to take it.”

“...no ulterior motives?”

Cloud’s heart broke at the idea alone. How many times was the boy offered comfort as a test and punished for taking it? “None.”

With a question like that, he was surprised when Sephiroth gave in and rested the exact same way as before, not a shred of extra contact taken. Cloud slowly, carefully wrapped an arm around the boy not out of necessity but of comfort. The silver soldier’s body started shaking, but he did not make a sound. 

Cloud knew of the pain, but only Sephiroth knew the memories that ruthlessly attacked him until the headaches finally stopped and the deep twist of the knife that needed time to heal.

.

.

.

.

To be Continued…

Author’s Note: Apparently I am incapable of writing a single chapter and moving on. So here, two chapters in one week! Cloud “Doesn’t know how to talk about his emotions” Strife and Sephiroth “probably never learned that emotions are a good thing” are very interesting to write in moments like these. Anyway! We’ll get back to what the P0s are doing next time!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter List 

[lipglossanon]

Hey lip, do you have any tips on how to start writing other than just starting? Like I have ideas and all but when I try to write them down I feel like I don't know the words that I want to describe the scenes and all, and thanks for sharing you work!

Yello anon! 👋

Hmm 🤔 I can try my best to explain so if it’s confusing or you need clarification just let me know!

So how I approach writing is a lot like daydreaming. I’m not a writer who can storyboard too far in advance cause that’s stifling to my creativity. Kinda like boxing myself in a corner.

With that said, I have this hazy picture of moments that I want to write down. So I start typing what I’m thinking to get started, like:

“You woke up late, a splitting headache making your vision double and stomach roil with nausea.”

Then, I let my mind wander and my hands try to keep up. I use the visual in my brain as a guiding point on how I want the scene to look like/go.

“You squint at the bright light seeping in from your blinds, dust motes drift into your line of vision as you slowly sit up in bed. Glancing at your watch, you see it’s still early morning. You slowly climb out of bed and make your way to the dresser, pulling out some loungewear to change into after your shower.”

Now I’m someone who doesn’t spend too much time on details in certain areas. Mainly cause I’m writing from a reader POV so I try to keep vague so people can plug in their own things. For me personally, unless it’s necessary in the story, I leave it pretty bare bones. Like who cares if the reader wears Nike shoes and Ray ban sunglasses? Or that Leon drives a 1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee and wears Dior suits?

Sometimes those details are so jarring it will pull me out of the story cause it’s like why are these things specifically brought to my attention? Less is more in a lot of cases.

And then I also try to make up for it in other ways, like describing feelings or smutty scenarios taking place. You kinda have to just find your own voice when writing and that may take time and lots of drafts until you feel like you’ve hit the sweet spot.

And all else fails, just write what’s in your brain and then go back and clean it up. I’ve done that a bunch too; just sort of a stream of consciousness writing that I’ll go back and pick apart until I have what I like.

As cliche as it sounds, there’s no right way to writing (it would be so much easier if there was! 🤣).

I have a hard time with finding the right words and phrases all the time which leads me to misusing them cause I have the wrong meaning for it. So usually just make a note to go back and rework it til I have what I like. And sometimes the words I pick are what I end up using anyway cause it gets what I want across.

Here’s an example of a WIP I started today:

“Blinking back the sudden tears, you reach over and grab her hand giving it a squeeze.

Love from the eldest daughter is rife (DIFFERENT WORD??) with resentment.”

So all I can truly say is take a chance on yourself; read books and fics of things you like, listen to music and watch movies for inspiration. You’ll get the hang of it and come into your own! 💜 I’m rooting for ya!

[bsaka7]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

i was tagged by @longeyelashedtragedy! i had actually been seeing this go around f1blr and was hoping someone would tag me...so thank you!!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

i have 96 (46 off anon, 50 on anon). of fics written in recent history, i have 48 f1 fics (35 off anon, 13 on anon) and 18 footiefics (11 off anon, 7 on anon). i have sort of a weird relationship with anoning - i generally don't mind if people know the fics are mine, but i usually don't want them on my account, generally because of quality reasons (or just a distancing). i generally anon anything that i've been away from the fandom for a couple of years, but i think this might change now that i'm like, not actively growing up in the same way. i feel like it makes sense not to want ventfic from age 14 on my account, but i don't necessarily feel the same way about well-written work from a fandom i'm no longer a part of...but then again. embarrassment factor. so who knows.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

661,265. Most of that is from the last three years. Nearly half is from 2022 alone! I'd like to crack 700k this year, but I'm not sure if it's going to happen. I've been a bit stagnant lately, but there might be something bigger (if uninteresting to everyone but me) in the works...

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

at the moment i basically only write footie rpf though i'm generally open to writing more f1 rpf or really whatever might take my brain by storm. i've written for lots of other fandoms but for some reason, it's basically ONLY rpf fandom that pulls me in and i actually get fully involved in, despite the fact that i love lots of fictional books and movies and things. the only other thing i could see myself writing fic for at the drop of a hat would be star wars OT/original EU. oh that's not totally true. i occasionally will write or consider rpf about various bands, mostly from the 90s 😑 but I've not written any in ages

taking some time - this was my first "big" f1 fic and i'm fully aware of why it's popular. it's fairly well written, it plays into common characterization, it's an extremely popular pairing, and it's unique enough (i hope) to still be vaguely interesting.

baby, need a ride - banger of a title, if i do say so myself (who doesn't love a bit of ke$ha). this is popular for a lot of the same reasons as the last, with the bonus of it being pwp.

[redacted] - i almost unilaterally refuse to admit i've written this fic. it got great comments from a lot of fic writers who i really admired in my early f1fandom days (and some i still do). this fic is, to me, extremely symptomatic of falling into fandom characterization without considering real-world input. it was maybe my second??? fic i wrote??? for f1. it's for a pairing i genuinely began to despise literally weeks after i wrote it. this fic is my no1 candidate for orphaning except that i don't like to orphan bc i DID write it and i do like to see what people say about it (and the comments are always lovely - i don't fault anyone for liking this fic. i'm glad to have created something that resonates deeply with many people!), even if sometimes i don't like reminding myself of who i was when i wrote it.

ill ray - this is probably the fic i'm proudest of being popular. i've definitely read fic that's been inspired by this which is a total honor. this is also the only fic in the top 5 that's not from what i consider my "early" f1 fandom era. this fic is mean and it's nasty and it's gross and it's stomach churning and it turned out better than i could have ever imagined. one of my favorite things I've written.

sheets soaking wet - early f1fandom pwp. i remember the exact weekend i wrote this lying on my futon. one of the first threesomes i wrote, i think.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

of course!!! i love comments and i am so grateful for them and i want people to know what they mean to me! i also am generally desperate for thinking deeply about fic (and for community at all) so i always want to engage with ppl who say interesting things! sometimes im a bit slow at responding - I especially sit on long comments - but I get there in the end :)

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I honestly have no idea. I've written multiple fics where is sort of implied all of the characters die at the end (as the sails burn down like paper, echo of the future (sort of. this one is iffy. there are spinoffs I'll never write), green gloves) so maybe one of those? i don't have a great sense of these things.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Maybe like... Charles and the Three Curses or something. I think it's a nice getting together, figuring out your problems ending, and they'll probably end up together for a long time. Most of the endings of my fic even if they're "getting together" or sort of "traditional" happy endings, I don't consider to be happy endings bc its all about getting trapped in the evil misery cycle or something like that.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i would think i hate on my own fics more than anyone else possibly could. that being said, although I've gotten a few backhanded compliments, no, no hate, thank goodness.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yeah. i go through phases of writing it and then trying not to write it but i find it fairly easy to write and it can convey things i struggle with in any other kind of work yeah. in terms of what kind, i try to write stuff that has interesting emotional and political undercurrents. i like the real world in there. i like complication. basically, I use it to get at something that I'd struggle at getting at in a different fic of a similar length - it pares things down to bodies and emotion, even if there's still plenty of space for lying and misinterpretation and so on. i like to think my pwps are often about power. I've also said many times that i consider very little of the pwp I've written to actually be hot. idk....take that as you will.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

ive never done so though im not opposed to the idea. unless my f1 star wars au counts as a crossover which i don't think it does even though technically like in sequel 10000 someone probably does meet luke skywalker or like wedge antilles crash lands in old man seb's cornfield or something...

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

don't think so, thank goodness!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no... I've had exactly one request ever and I turned it down. I'd probably say yes if someone I talked to regularly wanted to translate something, but I'm a bit of a control freak and it's not something I'm very comfortable with...

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, though again, not opposed to the idea... it could be fun! the other thing I'd like to do but im shy about would be to write a little fic in the universe of one of my friends fics but I've never done nor asked to do it so.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

if i have one, i don't know it. usually when im done with something, i move on and rarely return.....i think i have more consistent themes and questions that i like to read about and return to, rather than ships.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

i don't really have a lot of wips.... pretty much everything i decide to write ends up finished! there's only the Big Time Travel Story (not fic) in my head that maybe I'll actually get working on pretty soon here...

16. What are your writing strengths?

Probably my greatest strength as a writer is nearly anytime I decide to write, I can just sit down and do it. I'm also a fairly quick writer. When I'm really into a fic, I can easily write 2-5k a day and sometimes more. Other than that, I guess my writing is pretty readable (not necessarily something that I always like in my own work).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with writing dialogue, but my biggest weakness is my unwillingness to edit. It's not that I don't care or I'm not aware of what could be better, it's just that I'm lazy and I really enjoy being done, more than I enjoy putting forth more effort into a better work (that I know won't get any better if a response if I put that much more time in, but at the same time, I wasn't much of an editer on my college papers either).

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

hmmmm... i do it sparingly. i think awareness of language is something I'd love to improve on in my work, especially writing in the pov of someone's second or third language. I've definitely read it effectively in fic (and far more effectively in like, novels or whatever. and I've seen it done very poorly in fic), but my own language skills are not terribly useful to the fic I've written and don't particularly add insight into how i might do it better. usually i just use dialogue tags to make clear what language is being spoken.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

in elementary school i submitted a story about darth Vader and princess leia to a school library contest and was rlly sad when it didn't do well :( i wrote self-insert about myself hanging out with the usmnt and uswnt circa 2011...if either of those count 😉

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I'm going to give you two, on different criteria, though the answer is probably the latter:

Charles and the Three Curses is the most FUN I've ever had writing a fic. It's a bit silly and the plot itself isn't the most unique but I loved coming up with all the details of the different characters lives and the magic they used and my little oc's and so on... I love writing fantasy fic :)

scenes from an american artist is, I think, the best fic I've ever written. in terms of writing quality, of storytelling, of prose, of structure, this is it. i had something I wanted to capture and I think i managed to do it, almost how I'd wanted to.

honorary mentions: as the sails burn down like paper, echo of the future, you whom i cannot betray. You can also check out my Tetrapod Sampler with some fics that I think are quality and representative of my own work.

you will notice these are all f1fic and there's no footiefic to speak of. I'm not going to say that I haven't written good work for footie thus far, but I will say most of it has been pwp which is never my favorite, results wise... but i promise i have something interesting and different in the works!

i have genuinely no idea who has done this... I tag...@wdcseb @gokartkid ummm and if anyone else who follows me wants to do it and tag me I'd be happy to see I have been loving reading these!!! some people think so wonderfully deeply about their work and I love to see it!

[atlasofthestaars]

oooh i loved the new chapter! the way you've written the fight scene is so impressive! very rarely do i find myself engaged when reading fight scenes, but you nailed this one! i love seeing reader's ability in action!! and im such a sucker for the 'pinned the other down post-fight' thing, god the tension between those two </3 and the patching him up when hes injured aaaa reader and bi han are just the sunshine + grumpy trope oh my god 😭 kuai liang's concern for bi han is endearing, he really just cares for him a lot :(( (+the implication that bi han has a soft spot for reader im going to die 😭😭😭😭) i wonder what route you'll take with them in the future, especially now with reader's involvement! their whole dynamic with reader is honestly one of my favourites atm <3

MADAM BO !!! what a woman shes just an icon, shes the wisest 🙇 and her special tea being super strong alcohol 💀 johnny cage therapy session turned gossip column 🙏 i like that you've brought up his divorce, since in the game they dont really tell us much, especially how it affects him considering it was pretty fresh when it all happened. glad to know the reader is there for him on that front!

keep it up! & i hope you're doing well! — ☄️

I'm glad you enjoyed it <3! Thank you! I don't often write fight scenes, but when I do I try to make them interesting haha ^^ I actually was googling all over the place trying to think of interesting animals to use for the reader! I'm a sucker for that trope too, which was a big motivation for me writing that whole fight scene in the first place HAHA I almost didn't put that patching up scene purely because I've been doing that trope recently (ex: Liu Kang last chapter) and I was worried it would stale BUT I kept it in because I've already established since like, chapter 2 that the reader patching up Bi-Han is their thing so I thought it'd be weird for the reader to not tend to his wounds. I've never viewed them as that trope, but I can totally see it! Yeah I wanted to write Kuai Liang worried over his brother because in the intros he mentions they had a bond but I felt like we never got to really see it in the story? So I wanted to add it in myself HAHA especially since Kuai Liang's ending in Mk11 focused on saving Bi-Han from corruption in the first place. Bi-Han definitely has a soft spot, even if he would not outright admit it (for now?) It'll be interesting to see what everyone will think when I progress through the plans I have involving Bi-Han! I have a very strong idea of what the future dynamic between him and the reader will be like, as well as Bi-Han's plot in general 👀 I'm glad to hear you're so invested!

I love Madam Bo!! Madam Bo kameo when?? Or even her as a main fighter?? Haha She is definitely one of my favorites, and I had to implement her a bit in my story! Yeah I took inspiration from Bo Rai' Cho for that, though I do know in game they mention it is more like ?? Drugs?? They're kinda vague with what her special tea does but it messes people up that's for sure ☠ Yeah the divorce scene was one of the first ideas I had for this fic and something I've been planning on writing! I always wanted to go into depth on what I felt like was something that was kinda glossed over in the story. Originally the reader was supposed to just stumble upon Johnny brooding outside over his ex, but I figured it made more sense with how the reader ended up being like for the reader to initiate a conversation about it. I also wanted to do it because I felt like this conversation was a bit of a turning point for the reader and Johnny, so yeah!

Thank you for your comments as usual ☄ anon! <3 I'm doing well, hope you all are too!