#this tumblr when finished will be my first step into being a professional

[strawberry-jackalope]

the important poll now. I'm making the real author page, and other blog sites scare me, so we're starting on tumblr. as a chronic overthinker, perhaps feedback would be best in this case.

feel free to suggest themes! or if I do colors, whether they should be bold or pastel <3

[goaways-stuff]

Sunshine's Baked Goods

Tim Bradford x gn!baker!reader

Summary: Long shifts rarely end in such wonderful things

Rating: PG, but I'm an 18+ page

Warnings: none! fluff. No physical descriptions of reader, just that they like pink.

a/n: requested! To the person who requested, I'm so sorry, tumblr deleted my og post & I lost the request & user. Please comment & I'll tag you!! Briefly looked over, but not Beta'd

It was the morning after a long night shift, and all Tim wanted to do was go home and crash on the closest soft surface, but his stomach was ravenous for a bite to eat first. He tried to ignore it as he packed his stuff to go home, though he knew he would need something. 

It was still pretty early, the sun had barely risen, and not many places were open yet as he drove around, looking for something to eat. His stomach rumbled as he finally saw an open sign lit up. A small bakery right outside of town. His eyes were heavy as he stepped out, his senses overwhelmed with the sweet scent of fresh baked goods and…coffee? Oh, he had hit the jackpot. Definitely not his normal post shift snack choice, with the pink decor looking like a barbie puked on it, but it was open, and it smelled good.

The store was barren as he stepped in, the only sound was the little bell attached to the door, alerting you that a customer had come in. You furrowed your brows and looked up at the clock on the wall. Just past 6 in the morning. Yeah, you were open, but you never got customers this early. You just came in early to get a headstart on baking and decorating cakes. You wiped your hands, though you were sure you still had frosting stains somewhere on your body as you went out to the front with your signature customer service smile. 

“Good morning, what can I-” You were awestruck by the man standing in front of the counter. Tall, muscular, a hunk of a man. “...do for you.” You finished quickly, trying not to ogle. 

Tim looked over the small menu above you, seeing the variety of baked goods available. He looked in the glass, settling on a plain donut and black coffee. As you got a second look at him, you noticed the bags under his eyes and the look of exhaustion on his face and in his body.

“Do you want me to make that an espresso for you?” You asked as you rang him up.

“Not this time, thanks. ‘Bout to head home and crash.” He chuckled, the small smile lighting up the whole room, causing your heart to speed up. 

“Professionalism!” You reminded yourself as you nodded, ringing in the coffee as a water. It was your business, after all. A little discount for a nice customer every once in a while is just good customer service.  

You turned around, pouring a cup of the freshly brewed coffee and making sure to grab the best-looking donut. 

Tim swore to himself he saw you glancing at him. He tried to convince himself that he was just tired, and the attractive person behind the counter was just being polite. He couldn't help but glance back as he watched you make the coffee. And when he finally took the first sip, he swore you had to have put something extra in there. Perfectly brewed, smooth, not too bitter. The donut was soft and melted in his mouth. He thanked you and went on his way, sure that he was just so sleep deprived that he was imagining things. Imagining a connection.

But that didn't stop him from coming back. It became a regular thing after, especially long shifts. You always greeted him with a smile, but he swore again that there was an extra sparkle that wasn't there with other customers. The hot, grumpy man is what he became to you. All your employees made sure to get you when he came around. Though he was never rude, just quiet and to the point. 

You always made sure he had the freshest brew of coffee and the best donut, even if that meant going to the back to the warmer to get one. His order was so simple, yet perfection every single time. 

It was another late night, and you were getting ready to close shop when he came in. You smiled. It was easy to get annoyed when customers came in so close to closing, but you didn't care for him. He looked especially tired, so you brewed him a fresh coffee since you had already discarded the batch that had been sitting for a while. You took care to warm the donut up as something in your body pulled you to take a risk. As he sat down, you wrote your number down on the receipt, at the very bottom. You had to take a chance at some point.

You handed him his food. He always stayed to eat, though it never took him more than ten minutes. You went to the back to finish closing, not wanting to admit to yourself that you were too much of a coward to face him. He left as normal, and you were a little disheartened. Maybe he just didn't see it yet, you told yourself. Or maybe he's taken. Or maybe he just doesn't like you. You tried to calm your spiraling thoughts as you closed, turning off the pink neon open sign. 

You tried not to, but you checked your phone far too often that night, hoping for a text. It wasn't until the next afternoon when you got a text from a new number. You were over the moon, clutching the phone to your chest as your life played out like a movie. The chat ended with a date at a higher end restaurant across town that weekend. It was all you could think about that week. You hummed love songs and made more couple's themed cakes than normal. 

Even at the station, Tim's coworkers noticed his good mood. A little less harsh on all the “Tim Tests,” a little less snappy with his orders. It was the talk between all of his coworkers. 

Date night came, and you scrambled to pit yourself together. Everything about you had to be perfect. Pink accents complimented your outfit. He was even coming to pick you up like a true gentleman, a bouquet of pink roses in hand. So he picked up on that. 

You gracefully took his arm as he led you to his car, his hand right above your knee the whole way. Protective but gentle, not wanting to push any boundaries. He smiled the whole time, more than you had ever seen him before. 

And, of course, the night went great, starting off with the essentials of getting to know each other, but diving a little deeper into what the both of you are looking for in a relationship. He had you giddy the whole night, drowning you in compliments, giving a pink flush to your face. You were no stranger to the flirtations either, compliments flowing about his suit, his freshly cut hair, and how it enhanced his sharp features. 

Your heart fluttered from the butterflies flying in your stomach the whole night, and a longing for more had already set in before the night had ended. He drove you home, walking you to your door step.

“So, next Friday?” He smiled, wanting to hear the reassurance for the next date.

“Yep.” You responded, hearts for eyes. He looked at you, his eyes soft, flashing to your lips, plush and strawberry tinted. It aas a moment of silence, but not the awkward kind. It was filled with tension, begging for one of you to break it. Ultimately, he brought a hand to your face, rough and calloused with a gentle touch, bring you to him as he connected his lips to yours. For such a brooding guy, his lips were soft as ever, lovingly exploring yours. You hands wrapped around his neck as his other hand made it to your waist. It lasted forever but not long enough as you had to pull away for a breath of hair. He followed up with a small peck to the lips and a confident smile. 

“I'll see you then,” He said, though you both knew he'd be coming to the shop before then. 

[dnd-writes]

Way of Water

AO3

Tags: Power bottom!Eunbi, back-up dancer!reader, watersports, deepthroating, BFH

Warning: Watersports. I mean come on, waterbomb, watersports, I had to plus I couldn't think of anything else and I just really wanted to write Eunbi after seeing those clips

A/N: Never did I think I would write Eunbi so soon nor did I think that I would *not* write subby Eunbi. She's just that great. So... yeah, enjoy!

Also I used the "Door" performance as inspiration. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CBUzWUSVSM I don't know if this works honestly, I don't really Tumblr. I'll fix it when I wake up... maybe

“🎶 Just stay right by my side. Woo woo woo woo woo woo yeah 🎶”

‘Ok, next part is coming up. Just go up to her then go back to the side. Easy. Simple.’ You don’t know why you’re reassuring yourself so much or why you’re even hesitating in the first place. You’ve done this song, this dance, this particular move dozens of times on stage, at least hundreds in practice. Yet here you are, acting like a complete newbie doing his first performance ever. 

Eunbi runs back up the catwalk towards the main stage after finishing the second chorus of the song. Her wet, bikini-clad chest bounces around and it feels like time is slowing down, water falls from the sky so gently it feels like you could count every droplet in your vicinity. Eunbi’s breasts bounce hypnotically underneath the near-nonexistent top hugging her body, you’ve seen them jiggle and shake a thousand times before and not once have you thought about Eunbi sexually in any way but something about this current moment makes it different. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re seeing her cleavage in full or maybe it’s all the water being sprayed on her that’s awakening something you never knew you had in you.

And just like that time zooms forward and you’re back to the present. Eunbi runs back up the catwalk towards the main stage after finishing the second chorus of the song. She hurries over to a dancer then clings onto his nape as she starts singing her next line.

“🎶 Neowa 🎶 na sai 🎶 “

That’s your cue to move over. ‘Easy, simple,’ you repeat to yourself. ‘Just let her guide me, just flow with the music.’ It really isn’t that hard, just one step, one simple step that you’ve practiced for hours.

“🎶 aseulhan seoneul balbeun jigeum 🎶”

You let Eunbi pull you in close to her then her leg wraps around you. At that moment you feel the world just completely stop, not even slowing down like you felt earlier but rather completely still. Your face is an inch from her chest, it’s a position you’re completely familiar with but given the circumstances it feels so brand new. Though your face is looking away, your eyes aren’t. You peek over and standing there is Eunbi’s soft, massive chest in all its glory. Seeing it glistening with all the water turned you on instantly and gave your brain ideas you never thought it would make.

And how could you forget her leg, your eyes focused so much on her tits that you forgot the leg wrapped around you. To say your brain went into overdrive is an understatement because the moment it realizes Eunbi wrapped around you, the amount of nasty perverted thoughts more than just doubled. Your brain explodes then just like that you’re out of that fever dream.

Eunbi kicks the leg wrapped around you and in unison you drop to the ground. Your professionalism went back in gear but half your brain focuses on the choreography and the other incessantly sexualizes Eunbi causing you to slip up your dancing here and there, thankfully, as a backup dancer no one really pays much attention to you. And besides, it’s a water festival, you can always blame mishaps on the slippery stage.

For the rest of the song and the rest of Eunbi’s set at Waterbomb, you never had any moment as visceral or powerful as the ones during “Door,” there was a close call during “Glitch” but you held your cool.

You and the other dancers exit as Eunbi bids goodbye to the audience. All your friends look so jolly and hyper, bouncing and jumping around after performing multiple stages, meanwhile your face is blank. With your mind no longer half-occupied with dancing perfectly, lewd thoughts about Eunbi start to rot your head.

“That was so fun!”

“Can’t wait to do it again!” “I wish every stage was like this now…”

Several cheers erupt from the group as you all head over to the green room. “Hey, man, you doing good?” It takes a while for your brain to register that you are the one being talked to, you raise your head to see your friends stop in their tracks, all worriedly looking at you. You give them a soft smile and a passable excuse, “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… a little more tired than usual. I think I’ll just stay here for a bit.”

One of them pats you on the back, “What a bummer. Just rest, we all worked so hard today. Well if you need us we’ll just be outside watching the other performances, ‘kay?” You give a quick nod and wave them off as they disappear from view.

You enter the room and the cold air blasts your face, despite how cold it is inside your body feels the opposite. You try to stand right in front of the A/C, your ears start to hurt but inside you still can’t feel the chill. An idea pops into your head and you sprint for the mini-fridge on the other side of the room. The thing is packed with cold water bottles. You take a sip and sigh in relief as you feel the cool travel down your throat, but it still isn’t enough. You sip, you gulp, you down a full bottle, then a second, then a third, then a fourth. Endless stream of chill flows in your body but you still feel the heat, the problem isn’t with your face, in your throat, or in your stomach, no, it’s much deeper down and it doesn’t need acquisition to be cooled.

“Hey, there you are,” shouts a familiar voice. You quickly turn around and see the root of your problem, Eunbi. Standing there dripping wet, cardigan completely drenched, tits fully exposed, you don’t know whether to call yourself lucky or unlucky to be in this situation right now.

You’re not sure if it’s your mind messing with you or you’re actually looking at reality but with every step that Eunbi takes towards you, you swear you could see her chest bounce. “The others said you weren’t feeling well so I came to check on you.”

“T-That’s sweet of you. I-I mean, yeah I’m fine.” Eunbi finally gets right in front of you, even though you’re taller than her your eyes are looking way lower than where they normally would be at. You try to maintain eye contact but it’s like your pupils are too heavy for your own good, always falling and resting in Eunbi’s cleavage, just up and down and up and down. Similarly, Eunbi looks down, you follow her gaze towards the prominent bulge at your crotch.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just… the outfit and, and, and the water and–” You try to turn away and apologize but Eunbi plants her hands firmly on your shoulders and makes you face her, she looks you dead in the eyes and… flashes you a smile? “Look, it’s ok. You don’t have to apologize. You know what? The others are upstairs having fun. Why don’t we… have some fun… of our own?”

You’re at a loss for words. Is this really happening? Is Eunbi really asking you to fuck her or did you somehow pass out and start imagining that Eunbi is asking you to fuck her. Whether it’s a dream or reality you happily nod and oblige.

Eunbi takes your hand and pulls you into the small bathroom nearby. You don’t even take the time to look around, instead you quickly get on the toilet seat while Eunbi kneels in front of you.

Eunbi palms your crotch through your jeans and you squirm at the action, not because you almost came but rather something else is begging to be released. You notice Eunbi give off a devilish smirk at your movement and you nervously chuckle at what she might have planned for you.

“Well we won’t be needing these anymore.” Eunbi takes off her near see through top then shortly after her bikini, not wasting a single second on foreplay. Her tits bounce out now that they’re freely in the open air, looking bigger than in any outfit you’ve ever seen her wear. Well you’re certain what to call your situation right now – lucky – Men and women alike would kill to be anywhere close to your position.

“Or these.” She quickly unzips your pants and tugs both it and your underwear down. You help her out by lifting your butt and pulling down with her. Your cock springs free and Eunbi doesn’t hesitate and begins jerking you off slowly. Her other hand, meanwhile, goes above your dick and presses lightly on it. You squirm just like earlier, finally confirming her suspicions. 

“You look so full, baby. All that water you drank is already making its way down, isn’t it? Don’t you just want to let go? I heard peeing feels just as refreshing as cumming, why don’t we test that? C’mon, baby, just give it all to me. Let me feel that hot piss on me, baby.”

Pissing during sex hasn’t ever occurred to you before in your life, you’d think it’d turn you off but you’re harder than you’ve ever been your whole life. Despite your dick clearly wanting this to happen, your brain is still in denial over such a taboo. Eunbi’s basically begging for you to pee on her and yet you somehow won’t.

Eunbi presses down on your bladder but not too much, she wants you to pee but she doesn’t want to force it out of you. Perhaps there’s a middle ground. “Come on, baby. Don’t you want to see me covered in your piss? Soak my hair, coat my perfect tits and face. I just know you want to do it, maybe you just need some convincing?”

Then what is possible the hottest thing you never knew you needed happens – Eunbi starts pissing all over the floor. She moans as she empties her bladder, you feel a pool forming beneath you as the hot liquid surrounds your feet.. “You hear that, baby? I wanna hear that from you too. Come on, give it to me. I know you want to.” The sound echoes around the tiny area and it’s just the trick to send you over the edge.

As soon as the first trail of yellow comes out of your tip, Eunbi aims your dick at herself, treating it like a hose and showering herself in every place. First, she coats her tits in light sheen, just the sight you needed to see ever since that close-up view you had of her chest; Second, she aims it at her face, letting pee get into her hair and having it drip down her chin and neck; Lastly, Eunbi opens her mouth and takes your cock inside while it’s still gushing.

Eunbi bobbing her head up and down, sucking on your dick while gulping every single drop as fast as you give it to her. You feel like you’re in heaven. Just moments ago you were hesitant, not even entertaining the thought of pissing while having sex but here you are relishing at the sight of Eunbi drinking the contents of your bladder while also deepthroating you. Who knew that the modest Eunbi would ever be this skillful at something like this?

Your bladder finally empties the remaining urine into Eunbi’s mouth and not once did a single drop escape her lips. erent liquid is begging for its release.

Eunbi stops sucking and replaces her mouth with her hands after no longer receiving any piss. “Give it to me, baby. You wanna coat these tits, don’t you? You wanna cum on me and smear it all over my perfect face?” This time you don’t hold back, you let your cum fly as if it was just like piss. Your vision goes white and so does Eunbi, ropes shoot out and cover just about everything it could reach – Eunbi’s hair, her face, her chin, her neck, her tits. You slowly descend from heaven and the sight before you makes it seem like you haven’t. Eunbi uses the tip of your cock like a brush and spreads the cum all over her skin. She’s mixing a combo of piss, sweat, water, spit, and cum all over herself and the concoction coating her tits makes you hard and ready to cum again.

Eunbi stands up and her own piss is dripping from her skirt. “Ready for round 2, baby?”

[look-at-the-soul]

Love takes two -Part 1

Emmett x reader (AQP2) Cillian Murphy

Request (s) by anon prompt request

Finally I was able to finish this request (it’s a combination of two different requests I got from lovely anons ♥️ I’m sorry it took me so long!)

And also my little celebration for @cillmequick birthday (I remember it was in July) and for your 6 month tumblr anniversary -that’s probably a year now..) dear Alex thank you for being a lovely human being and all the Cillian smutty stories you share, I’m a bit behind in my reading but slowly catching up 🥰✨ xxx

Summary: Emmett gets protective around you, even in the smallest things. But after a night around a bonfire with friends he’s forced to be honest about his feelings. Just like you.

A knock on the door startled him at first, but then he realized there was only one person in the entire island who would stop by to see him.

“I’m not here.” He answered and chuckled at his own joke, then he saw your head poking with the signature smile and wild hair by the door.

“Okay, I’m looking for Mr. Hologram.” You smiled widely.

“What did you do this time, Y/N?” He finally dragged his gaze from his work to your face and like every single time he did that, you feel like you were kicked by a horse in the stomach.

“Me? Nothing.” You stated innocently, he should be used by now to help you with almost everything; opening a bottle of something, surviving… “We’re having a little bonfire, I was wondering if you want to come?”

“We?”

“Just a couple of friends.”

There was a small disapproval groan, but you knew him so well, so you rushed to try to convince him.

“Please, just for a little while… you don’t have to chat with them.” He was an introvert or not very fond of everyone, Emmett was always by himself… and with you most of the time because you didn’t really give him much choice. “Emmett?”

Batting your lashes and you knew that would do the trick.

“Don’t say that, they’re nice people.”

“Hmm.” He raised his eyebrows. “Just because you still have hope in humans, it doesn’t mean they’re.”

“Emmett! They’re.” You insisted. Partly because you believe, partly because you loved saying the opposite than him. “I made dinner.” You bit your lip.

He was cleaning his hands with a cloth, so he flipped his head in an attempt to move his fringe away, but to you it was the sexiest thing he could do.

“Fine you win, I just need to take a shower first.”

You made a victory little dance and told him you’d be waiting for him.

“Don’t make the same mistake I did, Emmett.” Daniel “the coach” advised stepping into the room. “You don’t want to grow old and lonely like me, trust me.”

Emmett gave him a long look. He knew his story, Coach had loved a woman when he was young but he didn’t have anything to offer to her so he stepped back, later in life he got an opportunity into coaching professional football, when he went back to her because he was financially stable he found out she had married someone else. After waiting for him for years to ask her out she decided to move on because she never knew he was in love with her.

“I don’t understand your point.” Emmett tried to play the fool.

“You like her.” Coach stated firmly.

Emmett pretended to clean the tools he had been using. “Everybody likes her.”

“She’s a great girl, what are you waiting for?”

“I think someone younger would be better fit for her.”

“Is that your best excuse?” Coach shook his head in disapproval. “Get rid of the beard, that’s the best way to look younger.”

Emmett saw him disappear outside with the handsaw, leaving him alone with only the feelings he had been secretly developing for you along with that noisy whisper in the back of his mind tormenting him over and over, repeating there was no way you could like him back.

Right?

“Given the fact that we don’t have a lot of things, this looks lovely.” Alex admitted taking a step back to admire the work the two of you made.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Wait a second, there’s one extra place.” She eyed you suspiciously.

“That’s for Emmett.”

“Why it doesn’t surprise me?” She sighed loudly.

Trying to distract yourself with the candles. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Alex crossed her arms, but decided to not press the topic anymore. If you didn’t feel like talking yet, she’d give you space.

For now.

You felt cornered, it was hard to keep something from her but luckily Emmett appeared in your eyesight and you waved at him, giving Alex a sign to keep it to herself. Shaking her head, she walked away to bring out the plates.

“You came!” The smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“Of course, you invited me.” He chuckled.

“Never seen this before.” You pointed it at his shirt, a deep emerald that lighted his eyes even more beautifully than they already were.

He blushed slightly and a nervous laugh escaped his lips, he chose it because it was the only decent and dressy shirt he had for an occasion like that, the rest were dirty or stained.

“Hey! Can I’ve some help?” Alex asked from the house. “Don’t stay there!” She called over the two of you again.

“Better go, before the creatures hear her.” Emmett swore he said it to himself but you were close enough to listen. It was hard to hold your laugh, after the invasion you barely laughed afraid you wouldn’t be able to control the volume and attract them, but not this time.

“What’s so funny?” Alex demanded to know, looking between the two of you.

“Emmett just told me a joke.” You lied wiping the tears away.

As Emmett emerged with his arms full of boxes with drinks, you decided to busy yourself by offering him some help. Oblivious that Alex was keeping an eye on the two of you.

People started to show up, someone brought his guitar, while another person was offering everybody homemade sweets. Dinner was amazing and having the chance to celebrate with the most important people was something you felt extremely grateful for, even if your birthday had already passed. Between laughs and an endless chat, you were now enjoying a piece of a homemade cake, it was like tasting a piece of heaven in your mouth.

The group had been sharing memories before the invasion, it was great to hear he most memorable birthday celebration from each other.

“Bet you’re eager to share yours.” You teased Emmett who was sitting on your left.

“Absolutely.” He replied raising his eyebrows. “Thrilled actually.”

That was one of the things you liked about him the most, he was always able to catch your hint of sarcasm and replied back the same, it was like your little private joke.

“Oh damn it!” Alex mumbled. “Y/N, can you pass me the fork? It’s next to your feet.” She pointed out from her seat on the picnic bench in front of you.

As you were still laughing from what Emmett said, you started to bend down to pick it up, her eyes on you as you moved. But to her surprise, Emmett’s hand was moving at speed to cover the corner of the table, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly at him.

For him it was the most natural thing to do, but to her, it was all she needed to confirm the thoughts that had been running in her mind.

She thanked you after taking her fork. “Should we go and play some music?”

As the group moved towards the bonfire, you looked at Emmett.

“You should join them.” He encouraged, stealing glances at the group.

“Can’t leave you alone to clean up, can I?”

“Y/N it’s fine, really.”

Biting your lip you stared at him. Feeling like sometimes he was pushing you away.

“The night is young, go.” He repeated just as Alex was coming to get you.

“Come on let’s dance!”

You nodded and followed her, feeling a bit off about Emmett. Perhaps you were too pushy with him, trying to be friendly or make him feel part of the group. But as the cheering started for your arrival, it lifted you up and you decided to have a good time, kicking the sand, clapping and doing your best effort to sing along.

Emmett’s eyes landed on you from afar, you were dancing and singing with the small group.

Your cheerful spirit attracted lots of attention, it was inevitable, your carefree attitude, signature happy character and that smile that seemed to be tattooed on your face made you be surrounded by people all the time.

It was one of the things he admired about you the most, despite everything, the things you’ve been through after the invasion, losing your loved ones, that didn’t turn you into a resentful person. All the opposite, it made your heart kinder, softer.

Constantly he asked himself why you cared so much about people who probably wasn’t even worth it. But deep down he knew… because you still believed in good people, you still trusted them.

Wild hair bouncing in different direction made him go back to reality, your cheerful sweet voice made him snap out as you shouted his name while waving at him.

“What are you doing all by yourself?” You asked sitting next to him over the old tree trunk. “You should come.”

“Trying to avoid your disastrous performance.” Emmett teased, ending his words with a chuckle.

“Ugh that rum gets into my brain faster,” you groaned.

“If that’s your excuse…”

“So what’s yours? To be on your own when it’s a beautiful night like this one.”

Sometimes he still wonder how a chatterer like you could’ve made your way through his skin to take a place within his broken heart and leave a permanent mark. Over the weeks since the two of you met, it was as if you opened up his dark and lonely heart, took a chair and declared you would stay there until you made him smile and help him enjoy life again.

“How is it possible that you’re always happy and enthusiastic in a shitty world like this?” Emmett asked after a few moments.

And regretted it immediately, realizing how bitter he sounded.

“Sorry about that, it didn’t come out right.” Worry danced through his eyes, you noticed right before he looked down.

“So what am I supposed to do? Cross my arms and put on an angry face to push everyone away?”

“I don’t have an angry face.” He tried to defend himself.

“Absolutely not, you’re the most friendly human being around,” you nodded making a funny face. “It seems that you already forgot how we met.”

Flashback

Focusing on his surroundings, he was now used to the loud thoughts in the back of his mind, talking to himself most of the time for survival purposes.

He was walking midway across the bridge when he heard a small noise behind his back. He was quick to take his weapon from his shoulder and turn around pointing it in every direction in an attempt to protect himself.

But his heartbeat stopped as he saw the female figure before him.

“You shouldn’t sneak around like that, you know?” He whispered.

“Are you always that friendly?” You asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“Fabulous, me neither… let’s be not-friends.” You extended your hand at him. “Y/N.”

Emmett placed his weapon back on his shoulder, and fixed his eyes on you with a defeated sigh.

“Emmett. What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know, just needed some air and a suntan.” You shuddered. “I’m looking for food.”

He wanted to laugh, for the first time in months, he felt something. And in that very moment he realized that you were one of the very few people around worth saving.

“Do you trust a stranger like that all the time? This is a dangerous place right now.”

“Again with the pessimism, Em?” You shuddered. “You don’t look like the kind of people who goes around with bad intentions. I saw you back there, when you had the chance to steal, you didn’t.”

His chest raised from the long breath he took. One more look at you and another one towards the long road ahead.

“Come on, I know a place safe.” He covered his nose and mouth with the old piece of shirt.

End of flashback

“I knew you were a good person right away.” You mumbled letting your eyes swim in the depth of his eyes. “And look at you, that day you found the best damn thing that’s happened to you after the invasion.”

That made him chuckle, just like every single thing you did and said.

“There’s no point to fight that.”

Your heart was doing a strange thing; drumming like it was in a rush to come out of your chest and skipping beats from time to time, specially when his clear eyes were looking intensely at you.

“I’ve something for you.” He announced looking at the ground one of his hands started fishing inside the shirt pocket. “Happy birthday, Y/N I made you this.”

As you were about to ask how could he remember it was your birthday, he showed you a small square of fabric covering a pendant in the form of a flower made of wood. “Emmett it’s beautiful!”

It was something delicate and simple, but to you it meant everything that he made it from scratch.

Without even thinking about it, you threw yourself into his arms. This was the first and only gift you’ve received, as his hands came to rest to your back and his masculine scent intoxicated your senses, you suddenly realized of your impulsive actions and how much he protected his personal space. So you broke the embrace.

“Sorry, I got over excited… thank you so much!”

His eyes were fixed on you as you put it on.

“It’s just something small.” He tried to explain.

“You’re really talented.”

Clicking his tongue he felt the urge to hide his hands.

“Emmett you need to learn to accept compliments, look at the table,” you pointed at the object next to you, “this is a gift, you create beautiful pieces.”

“Well thank you.”

You loved the shy look he gave you.

Nervously you placed your hair behind your ears. “No, thank you.”

“Y/N…”

Staring at his profile, you noticed the freckles kissing his face, neck and the part of his chest that was visible, the moonlight spread shadows beautifully in certain parts of his features, and you couldn’t help but wonder how would his beard feel against your skin.

There was no use in trying to deny it any longer, you had to be honest with yourself… you were in love with this man, and maybe as an introvert he needed a little push. Perhaps if you open up to him, he would do the same.

“Yes?”

Taking a deep breath, you decided you’d take the lead, after the invasion changed everything you decided you wouldn’t miss the chance. What if taking the risk was worth it?

He gave you one more look and you waited patiently.

As Emmett felt you turning your body towards him and the peonies scent of your skin hit him, he looked at your beautiful and delicate features in the dim light.

You were young, beautiful and funny, a walking sunshine. How could he even think of standing a chance to be with a goddess like you?

Fixing his eyes on his hands, he stood up.

“Nothing I just hope you have a blast, goodnight.”

And he left without another word or even a look. Confusion took over you, in equal amount as disappointment. You regretted deeply everything in that very moment. How did you come to think he’d look at you differently? To him you were nothing but a friend, someone who was always joking.

“You’re supposed to be having fun.” Your friend stated, taking the seat next to you.

“I am, Alex.”

“Really? Then you need to say it to your face.” And she pulled you up, towards the bonfire.

****

“You are what?” Alex asked with a shocked expression as she was watching you getting ready.

“Going out with Mark.” You repeated putting on the sandals.

“I didn’t know you guys were seeing each other.” She was majorly confused.

Turning your head to her, you nodded. “He asked me after the bonfire.”

“And… you like him?”

Sighing you paced the room. “Alex what’s with all the questionnaire? I thought you wanted me to have someone.”

Leaning back, she started playing with her sandal, balancing it in her toe. “I thought you liked Emmett.”

From side to side, you saw her sandal move like a pendulum. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you wanna play like that? Fine… stealing glances at him all the time, joining him for his daily walks when he clearly wants to be alone, going to his place with the most ridiculous excuses just to be close, him acting all protective around you…”

“We’re… friends.” You stammered looking away, feeling caught by your best friend. “Can you stop that please?” You were altered.

“Jesus.” She noticed you were in a mood. “He’s grumpy and bearish. You’ve nothing in common how can you say he’s your friend?” She needed to push your buttons.

“That’s a wrong impression most of the people here have.” You defended him. “He’s kind and funny.”

“And?”

You wanted to say that he was smart and well educated and a great cook, but that would only make her suspicious grow.

“I’ve known you since we were in the wombs of our mothers, Y/N. You can’t lie to me.”

There was a long silence, and it was endless.

“I’m in love with him, okay? I don’t know how, but it happened. I love spending time with him, he makes me feel safe, like I can be myself. He makes me love the person I am when we’re together… but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me back, to him I’m just his friend.”

Pouring your soul and feelings to your best friend didn’t change anything, but it made you feel lighter, just as Alex was about to say that she knew there was something between the two of you by Emmett’s protectiveness, Mark arrived.

“I better go.”

“If you’ve feelings for Emmett, this date is useless you know that, right?” She had never seeing you like this before.

“Everything is useless to be honest, but it’s either this date or yelling so a creature would come at me.”

“As dramatic as always.”She rolled her eyes right before watching you and Mark disappear.

It had only been ten minutes when there was a knock, Alex thought you forgot something so she opened the door to scold you, but instead she found the last person she had in mind.

“Emmett?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N here?”

For an instant, Alex felt sorry for him. “She’s out tonight… Mark asked her on a date.”

His jaw clenched, hands curled in tight fits just as an avalanche of emotions flashed in his blue eyes.

***

Part 2

More Emmett content here! 🥰✨

Do you like this character? I particularly love that there are endless possibilities around Emmett and he’s a fascinating character 🥰♥️ your thoughts and comments it’s what feeds my soul -and trust me, you don’t want to see me hungry 😂-

Tag list: @lyarr24 @lespendy @elenavampire21 @sloanexx @imichelle-l-rigby @esposadomd @winchestergirl22 @forgottenpeakywriter @forbidden-forest-witch @allie131313 @lovecleastrange @stevie75 @forgottenpeakywriter @elenavampire21 @onlydeadcells @zablife @raincoffeeandfandoms @nyxxxz (can’t tag) @camilleholland89 @thenattitude @kittycatcait219 @sherlcrown (can’t tag) @cillianmxrphy @kmc1989 @adaydreamaway08 @darleneslane @shaddixlife @shelbydelrey

[thatuselesshuman]

How I get shit done in a way that works

For reference: I have many illnesses (some that now force me to use a cane in the short term) and autism

So I was cleaning my room today and I realized that I have a process of getting things done that may help some people, so here I am sharing it on ye ol Tumblr. Feel free to comment on it, disagree, add advice, and generally just yap cause I am in no way a professional

Anyways...

Step One: The most important step

As the title says, this is the most important step. This step starts with putting on a banger playlist or an audio book or anything that'll get you in the zone. This is important cause if it's not a vibe I'm not gonna do it.

The second part of this step is knocking out the easiest thing that'll make the most difference. Using me cleaning my room as an example, I packed up the large pile of clothes I have to donate that was covering a lot of my floor. It only took like five minutes and it made my room look a lot less messy. This is important because I typically have a hard time starting a project because I think of all of the things I have to do, the time it'll take, and I'll get overwhelmed and just not do it. Knocking something out that makes the task seem way less daunting and therefore allows me to start.

Step Two: Break it up

The next step is to break up the rest of your tasks into small but not menial tasks. Using the same example, I broke up my room into: pick up shoes, pick up dirty clothes, pick up trash, put shoes into the shoe cubby, put away any other miscellaneous items, hang up clothing, and vacuum. These tasks are doable but still make a difference in the cleanliness of my room, which motivates me to get to the next task. If the task is too small, it seems daunting to the rest because you can't see them making a difference. If the task takes too long, you'll quickly get discouraged because the amount of time it could take to do the rest seems like forever.

Step Three: Give yourself grace

I lied, this may be the most important step. After every task, you have to allow yourself to quit if you want to. Even if you only get the first step done, you must allow yourself to quit if you feel the need. If you force yourself to keep chugging on despite being overstimulated, tired, etc, then the task may get done in the short term but you'll be way less likely to ever even start next time. If you get overwhelmed after the first step, then that's fine. You can try again tomorrow or in an hour or two. Forcing yourself isn't the answer.

Plus, I find that after I get into the swing of things, I don't want to quit. Very rarely do I find myself quitting after the first, second, or even third step. Sure, occasionally I'll have a rough day and I'll quit early on, but then I'll just try again. Living in your body isn't a 100 meter dash, it's a marathon, which means you can't go 100% the entire race or else you'll never finish.

Step Four: Reward yourself

Once you accomplish your goal, reward yourself. It doesn't have to be anything big. For example, after I finished cleaning I rewarded myself by making my favorite dish for dinner. When you reward yourself, it allows yourself to feel accomplished and happy with the outcome. You'll remember that feeling next time, which will make it all the more easier to start.

TL;DR: You got this! You've gotten this far. You've lived too damn long to be bested by something like this. Tackle that task, I believe in you!

[tamelee]

hi tamelee!

I'm here to ask for a little bit of advice if that's okay (: about a month ago I bought a Wacom drawing pad so I could start experimenting with digital art. artists like you here on tumblr have really inspired me to start making art. but I feel kinda.. lost. I've been mostly drawing naruto manga caps and I'm getting better but I guess I don't know where to go from here. coloring and shading scares me lol. I'm using clip studio paint and it's just a little.. intimidating. I feel discouraged, like I won't be able to do it. how did you do it tamelee? did you watch a lot of tutorials, or did you experiment until you figured things out? any advice you'd have for a beginner artist I'd really appreciate.

thank you veryvery much for your time ^^

Hi Nonee! 🧡 Sure!

Oh I think that’s a very good place to start. As well as drawing subjects you like ^^! Hmm, tbh I’ve just experimented a lot, but I don’t think my way of having done things was the most efficient. You might want to follow tutorials step by step? You can try coloring only with flat colors until you feel a bit more confident with that as well as cell-shading (toon-shading/non-realistic, like in anime) instead of rendering further as that can all be confusing at first. I personally never truly understood shading until I studied cell-shading and made my art a lot more readable. A lot of Anime uses this; 

You see how there is a base color, a darker color for shadows and highlights? (Sometimes not even highlights.) 

When you start to study it from existing work you’ll start to notice things like color always being in the same area of saturation and when you suddenly have a color that is way more saturated than the other it can look off. (See example.) But this is a guideline, not a rule. In your own art you can especially use saturation and brightness to help aid you to direct a viewer's focus and even tell a story.

I LOVE ‘How to train you dragon’ and ‘Kung Fu Panda’ for this because their coloring is so inspiring and if you truly want to learn from professionals... well those are the type of media to look for of course! I have an entire folder to inspire me just based on those.

Do you see how calculated those color combo’s are?!?! Here you see both analogous and complementary schemes and it is actually through looking at the things I like that I learned it >< The orangey colors stand out and are bright which helps you to focus on that area whereas the complimentary scheme is used to bring characters together.

If drawing Manga-caps is something you love to do, then maybe for coloring you can study screen-caps from Anime or even other animated films. I’d recommend to take it step by step, though I haven’t really applied it myself, from the video’s I’ve seen and artists I’ve followed it is always advised to have an art-goal that you can work toward. Maybe you first want to focus on lineart and then laying down a base color where the colors are harmonious and next would be cell-shading maybe and then you can start adding another light-source etc- eventually you can decide to create more depth or practice with monochromatic coloring, maybe even greyscale to learn values. But right away that can all sound a bit intimidating doesn't it? Find things that you like and then maybe you can open them in your program and just study. Find a brush you like, put on some music or a show on the background and for a moment play around with it without needing to create a finished piece. This is also how I learned how things like adjustment layers work or what all the different kinds of tools do. I have to agree with you, CSP is intimidating for me as well >< so this is kinda how I approach it as there are so many add-ons and additions within it but I try to only learn what I need for that moment so I don't overwhelm myself.  I definitely try to find video’s that can help me with creating Manga though! ^^ There are plenty!  It'll get easier eventually, you'll learn the program and you start to recognize placements for shadows and you will get a feel for the coloring- no worries 💪 Learning something new will always stay intimidating, every time I open up a new document I feel it too. It's not easy at all, but you kinda have to allow yourself to experiment and even make mistakes because practice is never perfect. I have some beginner tips written here- I hope any of this is somewhat helpful 🌷🫶

[witchhatproductions]

Witch Hat News #2 - Starting Fresh

This is an archived version of our microfiction newsletter! You can read along on our tumblr, or subscribe here.

ST: The other day, I was talking to someone who had just finished an art course and was looking to get started making comics or cartoons, who asked me, "How do you get into the industry?"

I'm not overly qualified to answer this question - the only people I've ever worked for professionally are indie writers, not industry names, and my books have never even been printed on paper. But I guess that's more experience of the world of publishing than some. It's enough to know the answer to the question, "How do I get into the comics industry?". It's, "Make comics for free until you have some proof of experience to show the publishers."

At the community college where I studied animation for a year-and-two-months, our tutor, Kevin Taylor, had been an animator in the 80s and 90s. He studied graphic design at college, happened to be living near a studio in London, and was hired pretty much fresh out of university to start working on cartoons, a job he learned at the studio, having barely studied it at university. He had some talent and intelligence and became, when taught, a pretty good animator. 

But that was the 80s, and if there's any animation studio in the western world hiring fresh inexperienced college grads for full-time living wages, I've never heard of them. Which kind of sucks, huh? The hustlers among you may think, "Well, you've gotta work for what you want." But isn't it a shame that studios don't take on the risk of training young eager employees anymore? At least not in this part of the world. Kevin Taylor left the animation industry for teaching, despite his experience and aptitude. "I like animation," he told us once, "But I hated being an animator." Quite a few of the modern, progressive animated classics - Adventure Time, Steven Universe, Owl House - had some bulk of their animation work done in Southeast Asia, by employees being paid fractions of their equivalents in the US for their very demanding work.

So... how do you get into the industry? Many ways. Some of my old friends from community college have jobs at Netflix and Cartoon Saloon now. But you've gotta figure out if you want to get there first - most people get partway there and then realise it ain't for them.

LS: Hi there everyone! Long term followers of Witch Hat Productions will recall that this is a two-person operation, and since Tata’s asked me to step in to help with this newsletter, you’re getting a little bit of my editorial voice too, for a change. This issue’s theme is ‘Starting Fresh’, so you might imagine that this change is somehow in fitting with this, even though this is only the second issue. 

Anyway! I suggested the theme ‘Fresh Starts’ or ‘New Beginnings’ or ‘Getting Started’ to Tata when we were out walking and we were trying to think of a theme for this newsletter. I was thinking about Colin’s kickstarter, and about how, as creators, we’re constantly starting new projects, revitalising old projects, moving on to a newer and fresher ideas. Personally, I have some settings and stories in my head that are on their umpteenth iteration, and others that are only now starting to blossom.

Tata’s editorial up there questions the struggles of making it in the creative world, and whether it’s actually worth it. The best advice I ever received in this regard actually came from Tata herself: enjoy the process, not the product. I like to think if you make fun, beautiful projects, then at least even if they’re not commercial hits, you’ve had a good time along the way.

Reviews

When Language Fails by writer Colin O'Mahoney and artist Mari Rolin is currently on kickstarter until Wednesday, 7th June. Colin was actually the first editor I ever had - he explained the basics of lettering to me when I was the wee age of 19, and I've been following his advice ever since. When Language Fails is set to be sad, and funny, and painful, and appears to prominently feature clowns with guns as a plot point. 

Relatable Girl by @adazaster. As it says in its very own blurb, Relatable Girl is a ‘comic about the daily struggles of Frannie, a girl who is very Normal and Relatable.’ Relatable Girl is hilarious and pretty absurd, with just a touch of horror about it - which at Witch Hat (and being Irish) are two things we love. It updates Tuesdays and Thursday, and in fitting with our ‘Starting Fresh’ idea, it’s pretty new - but it already has five full parts of story already out for you to enjoy! 

External Memory by My Murphy (@externalmemorycomic). External Memory couldn’t be more similar and more dissimilar to Relatable Girl if it tried. It’s a diary comic, whose four panel strips focus on snapshots of My’s life, and are consistently funny, charming and heartfelt. Diary comics are a wonderful little look into the lives of their creator, and the window My’s comic offers is a pleasant one indeed; the way the characters are written and the events are depicted is just so charming. The comic sometimes touches on darker themes (as life itself does, y’know how it is), but these are nonetheless extremely heartfelt. Also, My has just recently moved to Ireland - hi My!

Your project here. Do you make art of any kind - visual, written, performed? Are you starting a project or recruiting co-creators? We want to hear from you! Email us at contact@witchhatproductions.com. A proper submission procedure will be created if needed, but for now, it's open season - show us anything. Fire away.

That's all from us for now. See you in June!

[ughscara]

end of the year post.

heads up. if i sound sappy in some parts, i'm not sorry 🤍

as of me writing this, it's but a mere 20 minutes before it is officially the start of a new year.

it's a little surreal to believe that 2023 is coming to an end. a year that admittedly, was more emotionally and physically hectic for me. but i pushed through, and here i am going into 2024 as hopefully a better me.

to be honest, this year has been nothing but self reflection, realization and a lot of acceptance as well as embracing parts of myself that i thought i'd never return to. hobbies of mine like writing and drawing were ones i strayed away from for so, so long in 2023. but it more or so lead back into the tribulations i was facing then and still recovering from now.

it's a little surreal to me that months after months of doing nothing but reflection and getting back into what i love doing most just months before the year ended resulted into the me who decided to step into tumblr again and share my kuni ideas for the fun of it. that halloween fic i posted? just for shits and giggles at the time. but the fun i had writing it was a fun i wasn't able to feel throughout the entirety of 2023, and i admit the motivation boost i got from posting the fic afterwards, alongside checking in on the authors i used to follow just made something inside me click. and i went for it.

a bit more off topic but i still remember how i came back to genshin after a good five months or so in version 3.6 and doing the main event without knowledge of the sumeru quest line because i was avoiding spoilers. that day, i just finished taking an entrance exam for college and was exhausted from both the exam and from wearing myself out. midway into the introduction of the contestants; i was greeted with wanderer, or kuni in my vocabulary, being in the event and i was just smiling from ear to ear at the mere sight of him. feeling that same overflow of good emotions just take me whole to be honest, i was simply beyond happy. the way he spoke about writing about inazuma's societal issues because he was bored genuinely had me laughing for the first time that day.

i guess it's that simple little moment that hit me hard. it's silly, i'm aware, but it meant everything to me in a way. since that day in june; i was determined and full of creative drive to hopefully share at least one thing before the end of this year. look at me now, i have a series published that's yet to be finished so i can start on the next one in spring ( hopefully ), a one-shot to share for a moot and lastly... just a lot. i have a lot in store.

i have no right to say such things regarding my immense gratitude for the support i received from the few things i published, but the support i ended up getting on said few things — big and small — has made me realize that maybe i still feel very passionate about writing. that maybe i want to pursue the desire to publish all i have for that one fictional character that had my heart swoon the moment i saw him in a promotional trailer three years ago.

the ending note to 2023, starting october 31st when i published my first fic was a day that i'll always hold dear to me, my mutuals as well as the wonderful authors i follow made these past three months an absolute joy, and i cannot wait to make the most of my journey supporting each one of them ~

honestly i'm just rambling. but i am a professional yapper and to be honest i am writing all this on one cup of tea and like, six something hours of sleep i am absolutely not in the right headspace lmao. regardless! i am so so very glad to be here, to have survived an emotionally draining bitch of a year that was still an eventful year regardless to me, and starting the second of january... i shall be the bane of the scaranation's existence <3

we don't talk about how being that is actually a goal of mine because i think it'd be funny but i digress... 2024 will hopefully be just as much of an eventful year for me, for you, and everyone too. i believe that this year will be at least a little kinder to those who got absolutely shat on by 2023 ( pleek no more physical torment for me ) and if you're reading this, remember that this random stranger on the internet who's attempting to spread the kuni agenda is cheering you on for the year <3

i have a lot of stuff to share going forward. december was initially gonna be the month for all that but i had stuff going on that i ended prioritizing ( mainly my health ) so those initial plans will now move to the first month of a new year. mundanities with kabukimono will be finished in january, january 2nd will be interlocked eternities and lastly a late winter special that's actually a birthday gift for a mutual of mine ( mochi i am coming for you /menacingly )

oh it's 12 a.m. now, happy january first and happy 2024 everyone 🤍 may you be blessed with many wonderful days ahead. i shall see you on the second and third of january ~

[mareenavee]

Hi there! I was wondering if there's anything you're happy to share about your original writing? I'd also love to hear about your writing process in general, from first conception through to finished product, and how it varies for you for fic vs original writing. Thanks so much for your time! 🌻🌷

Oh hello new friend :D Thanks for asking!

So I can talk a bit about what's been happening with me lately lol I think it can be important for a lot of us, especially in kind of the climate we're in as creatives right now. And while the story might not seem very happy at first, I am still happy to share so others might not feel alone if they're wandering, too.

Something about my original writing:

So I went to college for Creative Writing. I had started in English Edu, and switched about halfway through for many reasons but suffice to say if I didn't do what I loved, that degree would still be unfinished. My goal was to get into editing, if I could, and eventually write a book. After college, my full time, in-office jobs at first had nothing to do with writing. I was doing things like tech support, sales and data entry until I got into advertising. And I was editing, using my degree, but I was also more using my skills from sales. And here we stumble into something of a burnout problem. I was working so many hours on unrelated nonsense that I simply did not have the energy to stay awake half the time, let alone write. And I was away from the desk for so long that when I returned, I felt couldn't manage a single good thing. I kept trying even during the dumpster fire the last few years has been collectively.

I'll time skip for the sake of the story. The cure for burnout is simply rest, regardless of it's professional/career burnout or creative burnout or a combination of the both of these things. One doesn't always realize this in the middle of the issues, though. So here I was barely writing anything that I'd be willing to share, frowning terribly at the blank page every opportunity and just being down on myself and my work. I wrote a couple flash fiction pieces, and plenty for dnd but I'd kind of lost track of my goal of writing THE BOOK, ya know? So I decided I was done with feeling so, I guess, unmoored about it all and I wanted to return to longform projects without second guessing myself at every turn. And I broke the spiral, because it was a spiral, by returning to fandom and starting my fic.

So my original writing, long story short, is short form for the most part! And I want very much to finish a novel. I'm giving myself the space to practice again with fic and prove to myself what I am capable of. It's a slow process, healing, but I am and it translates back at every step. I don't tie my original works to this screenname but a few of my fic writin' and Skywind writin' friens have read a bit here and there of both my dnd and my original short stories. It feels good to not feel bad about them as loudly anymore and to have people interact in a positive way with what I've done. I lost a bit of that after college, and writers really ought to stick together. It gets lonely and difficult without friends otherwise. (:

Something about my writing process:

I am a planner and a fragment writer! This is a result of my schooling. When I was younger and didn't hear a different way, I would pants the entire story. Now I suppose it's about 85% planning, and 15% finding ways to cause problems on purpose for my characters and running with a scene idea. (and cutting it if it doesn't work, saving it for later of course.) I outline plot points usually and if I have specific details I want to elaborate on, I have in-depth pages for that in the planning docs. I tend to treat my character sheets sorta like dnd without the build stats. Just break down into sections describing how they'll look, and their backstories. I also really enjoy the tumblr asks regarding OCs, too, because a lot of that ends up in my planning docs too, where it hadn't been thought of before. I like to really KNOW my characters and where I want the story to go as I proceed, but again -- sometimes I just cause problems on purpose for them and for myself (: But that's the fun of it. There's room for unmitigated creativity if you let go of all the headspace nonsense whenever possible.

As for fragments -- sometimes scenes come to me out of order or in ideas that don't have a place in my current project. I keep idea docs and an idea notebook on hand almost always and write down stray thoughts either as more of an outline, or just a jotted down piece of a thought -- OR something more. Like a whole in-prose scene. That's what I mean by fragments. I've found, especially lately, considering what I wrote above, that if inspiration strikes, let it distract you from everything whenever you can. Write that shit down and save it for later. (:

The last part of it, of course, is the editing process. I try to fire the editing brain for drafting purposes and then go back in to proofread and then do editing passes two or three times before I post / consider a piece to be finished enough to possibly share. I enjoy that part of the process so much. It's like finishing a good jigsaw puzzle lol. That said it's not always sunshine and rainbows, it can be a brutal difficult process. And I am not always right. It's different looking at editing your own work than others' just due to how close we can be to our own writing. Worth it, though, all the struggle (:

Is it different in my original work than fic?

Nope! I mean I suppose the glaring difference would be I need to spend more time in original with worldbuilding than I do in fic, as fic kind of has a bit of a safety net in that department. That said, there's still plenty of worldbuilding to do, lots of hcs to write about, and lots of planning how the pieces will interact. And asking -- why tell this specific story? (Always the fun part for me.) The process, regardless, still remains the same. Plan, write, cause problems on purpose, plan around those problems, write more and EDIT, EDIT, EDIT. (:

Thank you so much for asking this!! I hope this was insightful!

[lincolnchristie]

FAQs

Just kinda compiling all of these.

Do Patreon supporters get early access to your fanfics, fanfic snippets, fanfic BTS, etc? Nope, Patreon is for original works only. If you like my fanfic and want to support me but don't care about my original work, you can sign up for the $3 tier.

Hey, aren't you... Yes, I am @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels but I try to keep this tumblr strictly for posts about my original novels, including answering questions. I will also sometimes reblog fun stuff. For fandom, go to my other tumblr. It's where I'm more active anyway.

Why do you have two separate accounts? I like to be organized, and the idea of mixing 'fandom' with 'professional' too much makes me uncomfortable.

Is your real name Lincoln? It's real in all ways that matter.

What are your pronouns? She/her and they/them. My gender is none of my business.

What is your publishing schedule? I'm alternating posting standalones and series installments and hope to publish two books a year. So Pestilence is in September, then a standalone in December, and the next book will be War, then the book after that will be a standalone, etc.

Do you do sales? Yes, I do sales periodically, in conjunction with the release of a new book and at the end of the year.

Why do you only share pictures of your cats on Patreon? I'm a very private person and would like to limit glimpses into my personal life. I love sharing my babies but also want to manage my anxiety and trust issues in a way that is healthy for me.

Will you do audiobooks? I'd like to! It's a priority of mine for sure. I'm currently researching performers to find the best fit for each book, and I want to make sure I have the funds to properly compensate them. I'll announce it here once things are locked in.

How do you build an audience? I don't know. I wrote some fanfics in two popular fandoms right before they exploded in size, and kept writing for fun. I didn't plan anything. It was basically "right place right time."

How do you... This post gave me all the starting tools I needed to self publish. I cannot credit @thebibliosphere enough because following her tumblr and learning from her posts was beyond beneficial. I never would've had the courage to self-publish if I didn't see her do it first, and be open and generous with her knowledge.

How many books are you working on/do you have planned? The Horsemen Quartet, a trilogy, and five standalones.

What is A Masque of Shadows? That is my magical murder mystery novel, which takes place in a fantasy version of Venice, Italy, and is Game of Thrones meets Murder on the Orient Express starring the grumpiest detective, his spymaster bestie, and various murderous women who can step on me. It's being posted chapter by chapter on my Patreon for subscribers, and will be published in full in e-book and paperback when it's finished with revisions (i.e. my copy editors rip it to shreds).

What about the fanfic? I have not abandoned my fanfiction. That will continue to be free. In fact I hope between book sales and Patreon that I'll have more time for it.

Is there smut in your novels? There might be in the last Horsemen novel. There isn't any planned for the others.

Are you [insert sexuality/gender/mental illness etc here]? I am not obligated to share any of my personal info. I have sensitivity readers who have kindly agreed to be compensated for reading my novels for areas that either don't draw on personal experience, or do but still deal with a subject I'd like a second opinion on.

I only want to read your fanfiction. Good for you. It's on Ao3.

Why do you use Amazon, which is of the devil? Because there is no ethical consumption under capitalism and too many people use Amazon and Kindle for me to eliminate the payday it provides me. "You can have your principles when you've got a belly full."

I hate Amazon, how do I best support you? You are in good company, I also hate them. My Payhip is the best way. However if you do use Amazon please leave a review! Treat it like an Ao3 comment. I want to see keysmashes.

Can I do fanart/write fanfic of your novels? Have at it! I would be very flattered to see any fanart you do. For fanfic please do NOT under ANY circumstances tag me in it or send it to me or gift it to me on Ao3. It's for legal reasons.

Are you on [insert social media site here]? No. Tumblr is my only social media site. If that changes, I'll let you know.

Why jackals? I shamelessly stole the idea from Seth Myers. Back in the heyday of the pandemic when he was doing online-only videos, he joked about how no matter how pedantic the correction, his viewers would faithfully type "with [their] little jackal paws" into the comment section to set him straight. He made more jokes in videos after that affectionately referring to his viewers as jackals, and it made me laugh so hard I decided to use it for my own.

[skyhon]

I thought for so long that I couldn’t finish my highschool diploma, let alone start a college education. But now I’m a straight-A student who’s made the vice president’s (fall quarter) and president’s (winter quarter) honor list. I can confidently say that the reason this is possible is because of two things: my diagnosis of ADHD (and the tools that brings) and my support group.

I dropped out of highschool at the age of 17 with no hope to ever finish because of mental health issues and my undiagnosed ADHD and bipolar. I was sure that I would be stuck in dead-end retail forever. I even tried to get back into highschool two separate times, but I couldn’t juggle school and my full-time job without triggering a hypomanic episode and then immediately dipping down into depression.

I am now part of my school’s top 5% GPA President’s honors list. And I am constantly feeling as if I shouldn’t belong on it. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m actually smart, and that the reason why I failed before wasn’t because I was dumb and stupid, but because I wasn’t given the proper tools and support. My education and importance wasn’t cared for by my parents in a way that actually mattered for someone with ADHD. I wasn’t even aware I had it, because my mom just didn’t talk about it. (She’s tried to gaslight me by saying she did. I actually learnt from here, on Tumblr, that I might have it, and then I got a psychiatrist who diagnosed me officially. I shouldn’t have realized my neurodivergence from memes on Tumblr. I should have been told by my mom, who, as I said, KNEW the whole time, but did nothing about it, even when I struggled through highschool and had to drop out).

It's okay to take time away from school. It’s okay to drop out when you need to. You are not a lost cause if you ever find yourself having to take time away from education because of your mental health. It does NOT define you. But please be aware — those who drop out likely have no support network. They don’t have people to help and provide encouragement. They don’t have loved ones who care enough to support you as you seek out something like a professional diagnosis, or a program that would help you create a useful structure that will boost you up and not drag you down. They don’t have the love and hope that they desperately need. And this is not their fault. That is not something they, an adolescent, should have to struggle through and feel helpless about. They should be engaged with and cared for and they should KNOW that they are cared for not just by the means of words from others, but by ACTION.

I slipped through the cracks, just as my father did before me. I lived without the support I needed and I failed. But that wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the reason that the people around me failed to provide for my most basic of needs.

And I might have to keep reminding myself of this. I likely will have to. But I won’t do so alone. I have support now, in my found family. I have it in my teachers, who actually care. I have it in my meds, my psychiatrist, my psychologist, my therapist. I have it in my healthy coping strategies, my learnt self encouragement, my specific way of working with my ADHD and bipolar, not against it. All of this is possible because I have people around me who give a shit. Who remind me of my worth as a human being, inherently and without a needed ‘reason’ to be important in their, and my, life.

So if you’re struggling... if you can, please take some sort of first step to building that new network. I had to abandon my old one because it wasn’t working. Even though it was my own parents, I had to let them go as my source for support, because they just weren’t giving me any. I found people who care. I found people who support me. I found my home, my family.

And yeah, it might be a bit unorthodox. But I don’t care. Who gives a shit. The people before weren’t helping me, and that wasn’t my fault. Do I feel wronged? Of course I do. They were supposed to be my parents, and they were supposed to be ready and willing to help their kid succeed not only academically but also health-wise, mentally or physically. But I have to acknowledge this, and then keep walking. I can walk backwards for awhile, both middle fingers up to the world, but some day I’m going to feel okay enough to turn back around and keep walking forwards. And that day will be so fucking good for me.

The first step is to realize and process this reality. That you are not bad or wrong for having needs as a kid. Your support network neglected you and your needs. And you can be angry about it. You don’t even have to “move on” in the way most people think “moving on” means — which is usually framed as “forgiveness” for the neglectors’ behavior. Fuck that.

But someday, you’re not going to give them as much thought. They’re not going to be as important to you as they once were. And you’re going to have others there to care about you and love you. And you’re going to feel powerful, because you are. You’re going to feel capable, because you are.

You can do it. I believe in you.

Just as I’m learning to believe in myself.

[cliban]

Hi, I have a lot of questions about your transmasculine kink survey, sorry to be a pain in the ass:

How are you anonymising and/or deidentifying the data beyond not collecting people's email? Are you familiar with the main ways that people's identities can be reconstructed from survey data even without their name?

How are you storing the data (personal computer only, on a cloud service like google, or a combination) and what steps are you taking to keep it secure from things like leaks or your account being targeted and compromised? What do you plan to do if the data is leaked or compromised?

Do you intend to keep the data forever or are you going to destroy it after you are finished? If you do plan to keep it forever, how do you intend to keep it secure in the long term?

Is it possible for people to ask for their data to be withdrawn? Is there a cutoff date where this will no longer be possible, e.g. publishing results based on the survey?

Do you intend to publish the results? Is there a timeframe in mind for doing so? What format do you intend to publish them in and on what platforms (just tumblr, or elsewhere)?

This is just stuff off the top of my head I have to consider in my own work as a professional statistician. I think that it's great that you're curious about transmascs and kink, but this is very sensitive data and I worry a lot about taking a survey where you don't answer any of these questions up front.

No problem anon! Just keep in mind that I'm not a professional, nor have I ever claimed to be - this is mostly a for-fun thing to gather some some data that I found found interesting, publish some non-identifying statistics, and if I were attempting to write a paper or use results for more - lets say professional - purposes, I'd be far more meticulous about it, but this is most certainly not.

We're on tumblr with a trans guy (me) interested in what other trans guys are experiencing in regards to their own sexuality. I'm well aware that this is sensitive data, which is why every question is optional, and this is the first page.

Still, your concerns are completely understandable and I'll do my best to answer them - if you still have questions feel free to DM me :]

Most responses are being converted into simple statistics - a tally of what was most common, or correlations we found in large groups. While typing up the results I will be converting them into more simple terms and responses (after keeping a copy of the original, stored separately), and personal/identifying information being discarded. Individual responses will not be handed out, will be kept private, and I have no interest in reconstructing anyone's identity.

The initial survey is on google forms, and after I reach a cutoff point I will transfer the data onto a secure physical USB and clear responses. The google account that this survey is linked to is under as many layers of protection as possible, with regular security updates.

I personally am a fan of archiving data, but that will be all held on a secure USB that I will keep physically protected.

If the user reaches out, sure! I will happily delete any data that a participant wishes to retract. The obvious cutoff point would indeed be any anonymized statistics that we publish, but again - heavily anonymized to the best of my ability, but even past that if a user wishes to retract that data altogether, I will do so.

I intend to publish anonymized statistics, and that is is; there is not a major timeframe that I have in mind, but I'll give a two weeks notice for the cutoff when we decide it.

I am gently urging you to consider the tone of your final paragraph, as it comes off to me as slightly condescending - I am very aware of the sensitive nature of this information and the importance of keeping it private. Just the questions would have been perfectly fine, but I do not appreciate some of your phrasing. Fully aware you probably didn't intend it that way, just a gentle nudge. Have a nice day!

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 5-6

For the record, authors who write well with a first person perspective have my utmost respect. It's unspeakably HARD.

Also, as a treat, while it is currently updating once per week here, once it's finished it'll jump to being updated once a day. The week is just so I can have breathing (writing) room in case something should happen.

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

FIVE

Let me tell you how the Boston thing went down.

It was late summer, so as far as Chicago was concerned it was fall already. Nightfall had brought up a heavy mantle of fog from Lake Michigan; it made the dark of the night all the more profound, muffling sounds, blurring sights and scents. Anything could've been lurking in that iron-scented blanket, good or evil.

And for once, it wasn't my problem.

I've never been a man to shy away from a fight, but I'm not the sort that goes looking for one, either. You give me a chance to do nothing for a night, and I will absolutely take it. Unfortunately, life hardly ever gave me those sorts of chances; when it did, usually something big, bad, possibly angry and definitely violent landed on my doorstop as soon as I'd put on my comfortable slippers. And since I was on my second cup of tea, working my way through a nice little paperback, feet up, bathrobe on, and nothing was happening, I was a little… nervous.

It's not that I have bad luck. Well, alright, I do have questionable luck, at best. But when you're the only guy on the Chicago Yellow Pages listed under W for Wizard, Professional, your workload tends to get either a little silly or a lot weird. In my case, it usually also involved a heaping helping of life-threatening and limb-mangling. It was to the point where I didn't know if I remembered how to relax, which was a sad state of affairs for anyone, let alone someone who'd just caught up on rent and bills. I couldn't even remember the last time I actually had money to my name after paying for everything involved with being a responsible, working adult.

It was almost a relief when the knock on my door finally came. Almost.

Except that I was home.

No one ever came to my home unannounced bearing good news, not even me. I looked at my roommates. Mouse, my brand-new cow-sized dog, cocked an ear at the door and kept snoring. Mister, my dog-sized cat, asleep on top of Mouse, didn't dignify the noise with even that. Since both of them have always been a little more dedicated to their self-preservation than me to mine, I chose to trust them. I put aside the cup and and the book, and headed for the door.

I still grabbed my staff, though. Fool me once and all that.

The door opened to a vast patchwork sea of fog. I could feel it, like a living thing, trying to worm its way in, looking for bones to chill and joints to make achy. Look, I said the fog was pretty, not that it was nice.

There was a man standing a few steps from my door. He wore a long black coat against the night chill, had curly dark hair and a friendly face. He looked pretty harmless, all things said. By his side he had a gorgeous woman wrapped in a white jacket, wavy black hair framing an olive-skinned face like a silver screen's star. They both looked calm. A little curious, maybe. They were both wearing the sort of clothing you see on the newspaper under the 'Social Events' heading.

"Mister Dresden, good evening," the man said politely.

I closed the door.

And locked it.

Both their coats were plain, very unadorned, nothing fancy, not even the buttons, and that was just the first problem. Only people who already know they're the nastiest predator in the room dressed like that, expensive but unassuming, elegant and comfortable both. Just like Johnny "Gentleman" Marcone, one of my personal pains in the ass and probably the most powerful crime boss in Chicago. I'd only gotten a passing look at what they wore under the coats, but I already knew it was way too expensive for my peace of mind.

The second was the distance. They'd knocked and immediately stepped back a good four steps from the door. Two steps would've been a nice, modest courtesy. Four meant they expected someone to come out swinging. Only four meant they were pretty sure they could take someone that came out swinging.

Life taught me early on how to cold-read a room. I got good enough at it that I could also tell when someone was doing it to me. I wouldn't have sworn to it, but I had that unhappy feeling crawling up my spine that said the woman had been doing it from the moment I'd opened the door. The man had been a little slower: he'd probably been waiting for me to speak.

And in general, women that gorgeous never paid any attention to me unless they wanted me dead. I knew one exception to the rule, on a good day. Maybe two. Also, no one ever calls me 'Mister Dresden'. 'Dresden' was about as polite as it got. 'Wizard Dresden', maybe, when someone was feeling notoriously pissy or murderously smug. 'Harry' only happened when I was among friends.

I stayed close to the door, and heard the woman berating the man, but I couldn't make out any words. I was hoping they'd leave on their own, mainly because not knowing who or what they were, I didn't know if I could chase them off. Instead, there was another knock.

"Mister Dresden?" It was the woman; she had a ghost of a Brit accent, enough to sound nice without being cloying. "We're terribly sorry to have barged in like this," she said. "We have a business proposition for you that we felt couldn't wait -"

If there's any words in the English language more dangerous than those, I couldn't think of them at the moment.

"- but obviously this is not a matter to be discussed at home. Maybe lunch would be better? Say tomorrow, twelve, at Ricardo's?"

… Ok, my bad. Baiting me into a trap by inviting me to one of the best Italian joints in Chicago was maybe a little more dangerous. I've skipped meals often enough in this life to appreciate a free lunch as much as anyone else.

"We'll be waiting. Just ask for Nathan Ford. Good night." I heard them walk away, speaking in the quiet tones of someone who knew no fear of anything that might be hiding in the fog.

SIX

I decided to walk into the trap. I did shower and shave, though, just in case it wasn't a trap. I even cleaned my coat. I still got a look from the maitre'd when I showed up. I didn't blame him; he had nearly six feet of beanpole dressed in clean hand-me-downs in front of him, at the head of a line that smelled like money from around the block. No amount of shaving was ever going to make me look like I belonged there.

I still got escorted to the best table in the house. I could feel that trap tightening, but the smell of their osso bucco was making my stomach growl and my mouth water. The two people from the night before were sitting already, wine glass half full for her, sparkling water for him.

Huh.

In the light of day the woman was even more beautiful than I'd thought. She had an earthy beauty, a sort of human quality that made you want to trust her, to like her. She was wearing one of those dresses again, deceptively simple in creamy green, but so well-made that it hugged every curve and managed to leave everything and nothing to the imagination. She was wearing a plain gold chain with a little pendant that looked, felt, old and priceless, and matching earrings. Her eyes were naturally dark and smoky, and she was chuckling low at something the man had said, her eyes full of affection.

It figured. All the good ones were always taken.

The man looked rumpled… But I realized as I looked him over that it was nearly the same way I look rumpled. His clothes were good, he just wasn't comfortable in them. He'd put on a mask to come meet me, and the suit was just part of the costume. He was, as I'd seen the night before, friendly, even harmless-looking. Which only made me even more nervous. A pile of leaves wasn't a threat until you stepped on the rattler hiding in it.

"Ah, mister Dresden." They both stood up to greet me, the woman taking point. "So glad you decided to join us."

"I'm a horribly curious man," I admitted as we all sat down. "And you said you had a business proposition. I should warn you, I don't do overseas."

She laughed a little. "No, not overseas."

"But there would be some traveling involved," the man said evenly. Even his voice had that friendly, laidback quality. He was making me very nervous.

"I am Sophie Deveraux. This is Nathan Ford. We run a small operation in New England, Boston -"

I wasn't quick enough to keep from grimacing openly.

"Is that a problem?" Ford asked mildly.

"I work in Chicago," I said, because I wasn't about to admit the real problem to these two strangers.

"We are willing to make any travel arrangements you require, mister Dresden," Deveraux persisted. "We require your services in-situ as a consultant."

My brain screeched to a halt. "I'm sorry, what?"

"We need a wizard," Ford said bluntly. "You're the only one we could find that has anything even remotely like credentials."

That was a weird thing to say, if only because one, yes, absolutely a wizard but two, credentials didn't happen in my line of work. I got most of my clients through word of mouth and desperation.

"Unfortunately, Boston is non-negotiable," Deveraux said mildly.

"I'll save you the lunch, then." I would have loved to try Ricardo's lobster sauce ravioli, but I didn't see the meeting going anywhere. Even if I'd been willing to brave the Nevernever for a trip of that magnitude, Boston was a mess I really didn't want to touch.

"You haven't heard our offer, mister Dresden. Please, at least hear us out while you eat?" she persisted.

She was pretty, and friendly, and just because the last job had paid the bills didn't mean they weren't gonna come back. That's what bills do, after all. "I don't travel. Magic and technology don't mix well. I don't want to think what would happen if I got on a plane -"

"Train?" she suggested immediately.

"Ship?" Ford added. "Charter bus?

"Hired driver?"

It came at me so quickly, so rapid-fire, that I had trouble for a moment figuring out what they'd done. I'd put out a problem, and immediately their first reaction had been to find workarounds. All the delicious pasta smells in the world couldn't drown out the warning bells going off in my head. "Uh, what'd you say you people do?"

"We didn't," Ford replied.

"Much like you, mister Dresden -"

"Harry, please." It was getting hard to remember that I didn't know these people, they were the ones who'd looked me up, and they didn't have a reason to attack me, yet; the formality had a lot to do with that.

Deveraux smiled at me and I felt vaguely jealous of Ford on the spot. "Harry," she purred. "Much like you, we solve problems for people who have very few options left otherwise. Like you, we are a very small operation and rely mostly on the goodwill we create with our success to secure further clients. That's why it's so important that we do succeed, and that is why it's so important that we secure your help."

I was about to ask if they were a cult when three white-clad staff came out of the kitchen, followed by Ricardo himself. Deveraux gasped in delight as plates were set down before us all. My stomach whined pathetically when I reminded it I was going to say no to the job.

"Rica!" She greeted the owner like they were friends, no benefits, and the man beamed back at her. "A feast! You made all my favorites, you didn't miss one!"

"Nothing is too good for Sophie Deveraux," he replied, beaming, and they launched into a conversation in rapid-fire Italian.

Which left me and Ford alone at the table. I eyed the man. He wouldn't meet my eyes, busy picking at the food.

"So you solve problems."

"So to speak," he agreed neutrally.

"Are you hitmen?"

"Uh, no, mister Dresden. Where possible, we try to keep everyone involved from dying."

It wasn't just what he'd said, but the way he said it, that made the bells in my head go off even louder. Ford hadn't hesitated, not in answering, not with the answer itself.

"And you need a wizard."

That did make him pause. I expected it to.

"We need someone in your field to advise us during this current job."

"Uh-huh. Even though you don't believe in magic at all?"

Ford went very still, and leveled a look on me that was the first honest gesture I'd seen from the man. There was ice in that look, a depth of ruthlessness that made me wince a little bit, and which matched the first perception I'd gotten from him with his answer about hitmen. This was someone quite capable of killing; he simply chose not to.

"Even though you don't like me?" I added.

"I don't like a lot of people in this world, mister Dresden," he replied politely, getting a piece of shrimp and avocado crostini. "That doesn't mean I won't use their services if the situation calls for it."

"Well, that's honest if nothing else."

"I've found honesty is the best policy when hiring someone."

"I don't travel. I can't travel, not right now. I have a dog that's still growing into his paws."

"Can't you kennel it?"

Oof. Well, after that, I didn't like him either. "Mouse is not the sort of dog you kennel."

"You have a dog?" By contrast Deveraux, returning to the table, looked excited to hear that. "What kind?"

"Um, Tibetan Temple Mastiff."

"Tibetan Mastiff, that's a big dog," Ford commented neutrally.

"No, not a Tibetan Mastiff. Tibetan Temple Mastiff."

They both stared at me for a long moment, long enough that I began to wonder if I'd misjudged them. "Is it actually a dog?" Deveraux asked neutrally.

"I think so. It's just… I can't kennel him. So, you know, another reason I can't take the job."

"Bring him with you," she said blithely. "We'll make accommodations."

Ok, I hadn't expected that. "Uh."

"It's a dog," Ford said stiffly. "We can pay for him to kennel it."

"He's not kenneling his dog, Nate," she told him tartly.

"But -"

"We don't expect you to do anything risky, Harry," she carried on. "We just want you on hand to answer questions and advice us on some matters. Think of it as a very nice sabbatical. You've won a trip, all expenses paid, to Boston. "

"That's the other thing. Boston is…"

"Boston is what?" There was a tight defensiveness in Ford's seemingly innocent question that brought my attention right back to the man.

Guess it was a good thing I wasn't interested in insulting his home turf. "Magically speaking, Boston is… very busy." I was trying to figure out how to say what I wanted to say without breaking a dozen covenants and laws.

"Is there something specific to your… job," Ford asked mildly, "that you need, a permit, a license, to be able to come to Boston?"

"It's not that, it's… It'd be a bit like a Yankees fan walking into a Red Sox bar mid-season."

"Ah." Ford reeled back.

"No one needs to know you're coming," Deveraux protested.

"Oh, they'd know." It was the first time she'd said something that betrayed how little she actually knew about me and magic. That was also when I realized how very neatly I'd been sidetracked from the most important question. "What's this job you're doing that you need a wizard for it?"

They both crossed a look. The warning bells drew in a deep breath and screamed even louder.

Deveraux opened her mouth. Ford beat her to it. "We don't know." He grabbed a fork again.

"You - you came all the way from Boston to Chicago to hire me and you don't know why?"

Ford took a moment to think. "No," he admitted readily before setting to work on the fettucini. "We don't know. That's precisely why we're hiring a wizard."

"We rarely need to bring in outside contractors for our work, Harry," Deveraux explained. "We, as a team, have a very, very large pool of knowledge and expertise. This time, however, we have found a situation that falls outside that pool."

"Someone must have told you what you were looking for. People don't just wake up one day and decide, 'oh, I think a wizard will solve all my problems today'."

"Someone did," Ford agreed. "That is need-to-know information."

"Well, I need to know."

"And we need a wizard in Boston."

"Harry," Deveraux shot Ford a look that betrayed the kind of steel needed to like a man with so much ice in his soul. When she faced me, though, she was all warmth once again. The woman was a damn chameleon. "We need you. It's as simple as that. You are the only wizard we could find who is, I hate to use this word, reputable. We will make any traveling arrangements you require, for you and your dog. We will make any living arrangements you want in Boston, for you both. We will cover all of your expenses. And we will pay you a consultant's fee."

"You don't know my rates." The sheer amount of money Deveraux was offering made the bells in my head shut up real quick. It made me want to shut up and say yes, too. My voice came out a little croaky, even I could hear it. I grabbed for the water to try and wash the shock down.

"They weren't hard to find out," she countered mildly. She gestured at Ford, who handed her a folded piece of paper. "And if your talents are a match to your reputation, they're quite ungenerous."

"I don't think it's too much to ask -"

"To you, Harry. They're ungenerous to you. This is our offer." She slid the piece of paper over to me.

I read it. Word of advice: don't drink and read money offers from gorgeous women who solve other people's problems for a living at the same time. The water went places it had no business visiting and I started coughing. There was a very, very big number on that piece of paper. "I can't stay out of Chicago that long!"

"Harry, that's per day."

Hell's Bells but it felt like the trap had closed on me and I didn't even know when. "Do you mind if I take this offer home and think on it?"

"No, of course not." She offered me a little business card. It was, like their clothes, very plain and elegant and it said 'Leverage, Inc'. It didn't even have an address, just a phone number and an email. "When do you think you'll have an answer for us?"

As soon as I figured out who Sophie Deveraux and Nate Ford really were, and who they wanted me to kill? "Tonight."

She beamed at me. "That would be wonderful. Now while we eat, do you mind if I ask you questions? I've never spoken to a wizard before. Nothing about the job, of course."

I just grinned at her. What else could I do? She was gorgeous, that lobster aioli smelled like heaven, and there were three pieces of shrimp crostini whispering naughty things to me from their plate. "No problem."

[s6lars]

the 5 times he knew.

read part two here.

gavi has always considered you his best friend and nothing more — until 5 events proved him wrong. (wc: 6.2k)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. pg6 x reader.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. just pure fluff! classic childhood best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cursing, drinking

𝐀/𝐍. reupload from 888bear. dedicating this to my most beloved boy 🫶 this was the very first thing i've ever written and it rlly kickstarted my writing on tumblr! happy reading my loves

MARCH 17 — THE BIRTHDAY DRESS

You weren't the type to throw lavish celebrations for your birthday, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to go all out on your 18th — your first step into adulthood.

The morning was spent with mostly your family members. You enjoyed lunch with them, smiling and giggling as you feasted on the dishes served. You ripped open boxes of wrapped gifts and read through a heap of colorful greeting cards. You were lost in the live music playing in the restaurant and surrounded by your loved ones. Before you knew it, the sun was about to set, signaling you to say your goodbyes and leave.

Exhausted but content, you got into an Uber and made your way to your flat in Barcelona. There was one more thing left to do that night, something you'd been looking forward to since you began planning today's festivities. Now that you're 18, it was only fitting to go to a club for the first time. Legally, at least — free from the stress of fake IDs and negotiations with the bouncers that lasted what felt like an eternity.

This part of the day was only reserved for your friends. You had rented out a private bar in a club named RED58, a place you were already quite familiar with, but it was the first time you had a space all to yourself. You curated the guest list and promptly informed them via text.

One of those friends, and the quickest to think of among 15 others, was Gavi. You two first met in his hometown of Sevilla when you were both just 9 years old, through your parents. You had grown quite fond of him, but eventually, Gavi signed with Barcelona and was forced to move away. The abrupt lack of communication with him pained you, only hearing occasional updates from your mom at the dinner table. This period of radio silence ended when you and your family moved out and followed suit around 4 years later.

It was then when you reconnected with him, 13 years old, still young and clueless but all the more mature. You frequently watched his games at La Masia, the training grounds within walking distance on your way home from school. Your bond strengthened as Gavi moved up the ranks, which peaked with him signing his first professional contract with Barcelona and making the national team. For the past five years, you couldn't think of a single moment where you two were distant. You were practically joined at the hip, and everyone in your life knew that too.

Gavi had been exceptionally busy these past few weeks, playing matches that ended either in despair or in tremendous victories. So when you first told him about your plans for today all those weeks ago, you made it clear that he wasn't under any obligation to come. If he felt that he needed some more rest, then he should. But he insisted on being there for you, no matter how tired he was.

He always did.

You stepped out from the backseat of the Uber and went into the building, making your way into the flat. You had no time to lose and started getting ready immediately. Taking off your shoes and sundress, you rummaged in your closet for the dress you had bought for tonight. After gently laying it out on your bed, you began putting on your makeup and doing your hair. About halfway through, you picked up your phone as it dinged, buzzing against your vanity.

[22.39] angry bird 🦜 : be there in five. dont be late stink 

You had asked Gavi to pick you up and take you to the club the night before. Placing your phone back down, you added some finishing touches to the look. Hoop earrings and simple gold jewelry, a set gifted earlier today by your mother. Feeling satisfied, you got up from the plush chair you sat on and walked over to the full-length mirror in your living room, clutching your purse. You examined yourself one last time, knowing Gavi would arrive soon.

Not long after, three rapid taps sounded on your door, signaling his arrival. Your head snapped to the direction of the noise, making your way over to let him in. Swinging the door open, you met his gaze and smiled. 

"Gavi! Come in."

For a moment, he stood at the door as you walked back into the living room, feet frozen in place. Turning your head back around to him, a concerned look on your face, he shook his head lightly and followed behind you, his shoes echoing against the floors.

Standing back in front of the mirror, you adjusted your hair, turned, and looked back around, standing still once more to say to him, "How do I look?" You turned to look at him, his hazel eyes scanning you up and down before finally making eye contact.

He takes a deep breath before answering, "Nice." You hummed in response, sensing the slightest hint of restraint in his words.

Turning back to look at your reflection, you let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I know I don't... dress like this often," you huffed out, "and it might be weird to you. But I think I look pretty damn good." You put your hands on your hips, weight shifting to one foot as you bent the other, head tilted at him. He could only chuckle in response.

It was true. You didn't dress like this often, in fact, at all. The silk dress was garnet in color and noodle-strapped. The fabric hugged your curves and tightened around the waist. The skirt reached down to your thighs, a slit running down one side, your back exposed. Gavi had never seen you like this, finding himself unable to look away for even a second.

"I never said you didn't." He swiftly turns back, desperately trying to prevent you from noticing the red searing on his cheeks, fingers running through his locks. "Let's go. I'm sure the others are waiting for us." He walked to the door, you following not too far behind him.

As he holds the door open for you to exit, he pauses and lets you get a few paces ahead. Staring at your silhouette from behind, his jaw on the verge of dropping straight to the floor, he felt a fluttering sensation brew in his abdomen.

Fuck, he thought to himself, making his way to catch up with you.

APRIL 29 — JEALOUSY

 "Y/N!" A distant voice shouted, snapping you back to reality. You opened your eyes and turned to look at the person who called your name.

"What?" You ejected back. You propped yourself up on your elbows and repositioned your sunglasses from the bridge of your nose to your head.

Vision clearing, you make out the shape of Pedri walking across the coastline towards you, stopping in his tracks once he was beside the sunbed you had been lying on. He towers over you and looks down to meet your eyes. "Gavi's starting up the grill."

Your eyes light up at the words, jumping up to your feet and marching in the direction Pedri came from. "Took you guys long enough!" You turned back around to see him following you.

"Hey! Not my fault Gavi doesn't know how to work a grill."

You giggled. "And you know how to, but just decided to play volleyball instead of helping?" You turned around to face him, now walking backward.

"You're one to talk. You passed out for at least half an hour, you know."

"Because the food wasn't ready," you teased, arms crossing on your chest.

"Maybe if you helped." He steps closer to you.

"Maybe if you helped." You pointed your finger at him, the tip landing on his chest. Before you two could argue further about who was less helpful, a third voice interjected from ahead.

"Pedri! Help me out!" It was Gavi. The two of you went to look at him in front of the grill, holding tongs in one hand and fanning his surroundings with the other. The white smoke from the grill had swirled in front of his face, obscuring his vision, but you could tell he was sneering from afar. 

"Looks like he still can't work the grill," Pedri remarked. You turn to look at each other in unison, his lips pursed. "I think I should help him out for real now." He jogs toward Gavi, leaving you alone with the others.

Gavi had a few days off from training and decided to host a hangout with his friends. He invited some other Barcelona players and his hometown friends, including you. He decided to spend the evening at Barceloneta Beach, bringing drinks and food to grill. 

You grabbed a foldable chair lying on the ground, set it up, and sat down. You pulled out your phone from the pocket of your swimsuit cover-up and began scrolling through your socials, feeling the breeze in your hair and the smell of charcoal waft to your nose.

With the help of Pedri, Gavi successfully controlled the grill, and they began cooking together. He started rambling about how the grill was 'probably broken' and that they should've 'brought a better one.' Pedri didn't care to listen, the younger boy's voice fading into white noise. Instead, he was looking at you.

His eyes were glued to your figure, sitting with one leg over the other, your swimsuit cover-up failing to cover your thighs and legs. He noticed the tension in your face as you scrolled through your phone, eyes darting around the screen. It wasn't until Gavi shoved him in the shoulder that he snapped back to reality and turned to look at him.

"Are you even listening to me?" he chided. Pedri ignored him and redirected his gaze back at you. Gavi, curious as to what his friend was too busy staring at to listen to his words, glanced in the same direction. His eyes landed on you, and he looked back at Pedri, understanding what was happening instantly.

Gavi introduced you and Pedri some months ago. In fact, he was the first teammate of his that you met. You two kicked it off not long after, bumping into each other every time Gavi organized these hangouts (which was at least once any time he had days off). He's seen the two of you talk and joke about multiple times. But this time, Pedri had something in his gaze as he checked you out. Something Gavi knows is only reserved for girls he's interested in.

Pedri turned to meet his eyes. With a smirk on Pedri's face and Gavi shaking his head in disbelief, the two shared a look that fully confirmed Gavi's suspicions. "You," Gavi starts to speak before being interrupted by Pedri.

"Yup," he interjected as if reading Gavi's mind and knowing what he was about to say next. "Well, maybe." Pedri looks down at the grill and shuts it off, transferring the cooked pieces of meat to the serving platter, carrying it in his hands. The two make their way to everyone else, slowly walking to finish the conversation.

"What do you mean 'maybe'? Do you like her or not?" Gavi questioned. Pedri let out a scoff and looked straight ahead.

"I don't know, man. Things feel like they've changed between us, you know? Not in a bad way, obviously. I think I like her, and I think she likes me too. But I don't know for sure yet," he replies. Pedri set down the dish on a table and called the others.

He turns to look at Gavi. "If she doesn't like me back, I wouldn't be all that heartbroken. But if she does, dating her doesn't sound so bad."

Gavi kept his eyes on the sand between his feet the entire time Pedri spoke. Dating her. Those words echoed in his head and left a sour taste on his tongue. It didn't help that during the whole hour or so that everyone was eating, you two chose to sit next to each other. Talking and whispering things in each other's ears, your hand lightly hitting his back during fits of laughter and your thighs always touching. 

Gavi didn't even try to hide the look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, glaring at the sight. Lucky for him, everyone else was too occupied to notice.

He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head. You two had been friends for a while and knew each other well. He had seen it all unfold before his eyes, but why was he only now feeling this kind of resentment? Pedri was single, and so were you. He had no right to police who you could and couldn't date. After all, you weren't his.

Rounds of drinks and volleyball later, it was time for everyone to go home. Gavi was packing the things he had brought from his place when you walked up to him. Still irritated with what happened earlier, he tried his best to ignore your presence. That all went flying out the window when he heard what you said.

"You still taking me home?" You and Gavi had shown up to the beach together, and he would take you back to your place as usual. This happened often, the two of you showing up and leaving events together. It had been a sort of unspoken rule between the two of you.

"Yeah." He zipped close the bag containing all his belongings, gaze still avoiding yours. "I'm going to put this in the car first."

Gavi swung the bag over his shoulder and was about to turn away, heading straight for his car. However, a familiar voice came up behind him, one he couldn't ignore. Pedri. He showed up with his own bags, smiling at Gavi before turning to look at you.

"How are you going home, Y/N?" Pedri asked, a tone of optimism in his voice. 

"Oh, I'm actually going with Gavi. I always do." Gavi smirked at that last statement. He examined Pedri's face, slightly dropping from disappointment.

"That's right," he says. Gavi extended one arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, sending a message to Pedri. "See you around, hermano." He walks past him towards the car park. 

Blissfully unaware of Gavi's feelings, you felt confused. After a few paces, you looked up to make eye contact with him. "What was that all about?"

Gavi looked down, meeting your gaze. "What was what all about?"

You squinted your eyes at him. He certainly knew more than what he was leading on, but you shrugged it off anyway. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you couldn't help but feel a slight tension between him and Pedri. You turned back to look forward, Gavi relieved you didn't interrogate him further.

Brushing those thoughts aside, you smiled at him and said, "I had fun today." He smiled in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Thanks for inviting me," you continued.

"Thanks for being here with me," his gaze unwavering.

"I'll always be here with you, Gav." You turned to look away once more. He felt his heart skip a beat. Not even 5 minutes ago, his head felt fuzzy from the mix of envy and beer. But now, his thoughts had never been so clear. He knew you weren't fully sober either, but hoped deep down that you meant what you said tonight - because it meant the world to him.

You start to stumble in your steps, leaning your head on his shoulder for support. He does the same, his head resting on top of yours. The two of you continue walking like this, breathing in unison as the sound of waves crashing surrounds you, the stars dimly illuminating the way.

Gavi lifts his head momentarily, looking back to where you two walked from, and sees Pedri. He whips his head in the opposite direction, avoiding looking at you two, and follows Ansu to his car with his head hung low. 

Gavi turns back to look ahead of him, smirking. He can only tighten the grip of his arm around you, pulling you in closer, unwilling to let go.

MAY 4 — THE MORNING AFTER

Gavi had no idea how he ended up in this position when he awakened on the couch that morning.

You were sound asleep, lying on top of him. Your head was nuzzled in the crook of his neck, your hand resting on his shoulder. Gavi had one arm wrapped around you, his hand landing on the small of your back. Your legs were a tangled mess, your nose lightly grazing his jawline.

Gavi felt paralyzed. He was terrified to move, not wanting to wake you up. In the meantime, he racked his memory and tried to remember how this happened in the first place. 

He recalls the day before. Barca had won 1-0, Gavi being the sole goalscorer leading them to victory. He still remembers the thundering roars from the stands and the celebrations after.

As usual, the team went to celebrate, drinking and partying through the night. Everyone had invited friends, significant others, and family members along. Gavi was no exception. He asked you to come along, going straight to the bar from Camp Nou. Your appearances at these post-match celebrations had become increasingly frequent as the season progressed.

From that point on, everything was a haze of vodka, EDM music, and neon lights. He remembers having one too many drinks that night. Now, he has a throbbing headache because of the hangover. He thinks it'll get worse if he keeps thinking but persists anyway.

He remembers getting to the point where he could no longer walk in a straight line, his knees buckling as he tried. The bartender saw this and began pulling his drinks back, obligated to. As he tries to reason with the man behind the bar to pour him up just one more shot, he starts to get aggravated. He's disoriented, and Pedri and Ferran have to step in, pulling him away and shoving him down onto a couch at a booth. 

The pair decided that Gavi had partied to his limit and needed to go home. Pedri fetched you from the dance floor, and the three of you hauled him down the flight of stairs (hoping that there wouldn't be a swarm of fans at the exit) and shoved him in the backseat of Pedri's car. 

Pedri drove you four back to Gavi's place, Ferran in the passenger's seat. In the backseat were you and Gavi. His head rested on your lap, your hands running through his hair. He fell in and out of consciousness, mumbling a string of incoherent sentences from time to time. 

Not long after, you arrived, and Pedri pulled over. The three of you struggled again to get him out of the car and into his flat. Exhausted, you plopped him onto one of the couches in his living room. Gavi fell asleep immediately, and you and the two other boys went to collect your breaths.

"You guys should probably get going now," you said to them. Pedri and Ferran turned to look at each other, then back to you.

"Are you not going to go home? We can take you to your place," Pedri replied, knowing your car was back home. 

"I can take care of Gavi. I'll take a cab home or something." You take a sip from the glass of water in your hands before continuing, "You guys are probably exhausted. Go have a rest."

"It's 3 am, Y/N," Ferran said.

"I'll be fine, really. Don't you both have training tomorrow? You really need to rest." They saw no point in refuting you. You got up from the chair you were sitting on and approached them both, hugging them goodbye and leading them to the front door.

Alone in the flat with Gavi, you walked over to him by the couch and sat next to him. You'd done this many times before, taking care of him after a long night of drinking, and he'd done the same to you. You examined his face, his eyelids shut, and his breathing slowed. He had fallen asleep.

You slowly got up again and walked to the edge of the couch, taking off his shoes and socks. Gavi twisted in his sleep, indicating he wasn't entirely unconscious. You debated carrying him to his bed, quickly realizing how horrible the idea was — you weren't sober yourself, and you were consumed with sleepiness.

So instead, you grabbed another glass of water and set it by the coffee table nearest to him, along with some painkillers. He needed it when he woke up. After completing these tasks, you sat down on the end of the couch and waited for an Uber driver to pick you up. 

From the opposite end, a gravelly noise attracts your attention. Gavi had woken up, and you couldn't quite understand what he was saying, still intoxicated. Still, you let him know what was happening.

"Hey, sleepyhead. You're at home. You tried to climb over the counter to pour yourself a drink when the bartender refused." You got up and walked to him, bending down slightly. He was still disoriented but had it in him to keep eye contact.

"How did we get here?" he slurred, his voice no louder than a whisper. You could see from the distance that his eyelids were struggling to stay open, and he was about to fall asleep again. 

"Pedri drove, and Ferran was with us too. They went home not too long ago." You hear Gavi groan in response. He laid his head on the armrest, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes again.

"Speaking of, I need to go home too. Waiting on an Uber," you said. You hear him grunt in response, some words escaping his lips. You hummed, asking what he meant.

The second time he spoke was louder but still inaudible. "What was that?" you asked one more time.

Gavi's arm suddenly reached out for you, wrapping around your torso and pushing you on top of him. You yelp out, trying not to make much noise. He nuzzled his nose into your scalp, and it was then that you finally made out what he was trying to say all along.

"Stay."

You wriggle from his grip and try to look up at him, finding it difficult because of his strength. But you catch a glimpse of his face, sound asleep once more. Your chest was flushed against his, and you felt the air coming out his nose, fanning your scalp. You desperately try to get back up without waking him but soon find it impossible. 

A few minutes passed, and you felt your breathing slow, your eyelids fluttering shut. You felt safe this way, in his embrace. You take in his scent, how his fingertips graze your back every once in a while. You had accepted your fate and decided there was no harm in falling asleep like this, limbs tangled with your best friend. It was something you two would worry about when you woke up.

Well, now Gavi was awake, and he was definitely worrying. He had seen the cup of water and pill on the coffee table, quickly deducing that it was your doing, and took it. Within a few minutes, his headache had disappeared, leaving him to piece together an explanation without the pain.

But he soon realized that he didn't mind being in this position. He didn't feel uncomfortable and even started trailing his fingernails up and down your spine. This has never happened to you two before, but it didn't feel unfamiliar. The way your bodies molded with each other like perfect pieces of a puzzle, it felt like home. You felt like home.

Your body jolted awake, startling Gavi. You raised your head, your eyes meeting his. He tried to lean up from the couch, thinking that you would be up on your feet doing the same, slightly embarrassed. To his surprise, you laid your head down on his chest, preventing him from getting up any further.

"I have a headache," you groaned. The hangover had kicked in.

"I know," he responded. "Want me to get you Tylenol?"

You shook your head against his chest, refusing. Gavi mumbled in approval and slowly lied back down on the couch. He heard you let out a sigh.

"Do... you want anything else?" he asked. There was a slight pause before you replied.

"Stay."

He knew he had to return the favor.

JULY 13 — COMING HOME

[07.19] angry bird 🦜 : just landed. see u soon

You repeatedly read the text message until you felt it would be etched in your memories forever. Gavi sent that message over an hour ago, and he was yet to show up at your front door. 

Gavi and the team had been in the United States on a pre-season tour. It was his first time joining the team on these trips. In the week leading up to your departure, he couldn't go a single day without telling you just how excited he was.

When he finally departed, it was the longest that you two had been apart in a while. Most of his games were played in Spain, the rest happening abroad. But even then, he would only leave for a week or so before returning home.

The distance was unbearable. You two always missed each other when you were apart, but you were perfectly content with just a few texts back and forth. Now, you felt like you could go crazy if you went a day without hearing his voice.

You supported him through your phone screen, watching his travels through his posts on Instagram and appearances on Barca's Youtube channel. You always sent a good luck text before every friendly match and another either congratulating his win or cheering for him after a loss. This routine persisted the entire time he was there.

The time difference was by far the worst. In the evenings, when you were done with the day, he was busy with training and press conferences. By the time he was done with work, it was past midnight for you. Still, you managed to stay awake until the early mornings to hear him talk about his day.

"There are so many cool things happening here. If only you were here." You were on Facetime with him, now a part of your nightly routine when he was away. He talked you through everything he did that day, and in return, you updated him about what happened back home. 

"You seem to be getting attached to America," you responded. You hear a faint chuckle coming out of your phone speakers.

"It's nicer than what I thought." He moves to lie down on his bed, an arm behind his head supporting it. "But I really do miss being home."

Gavi had to lick his lips to physically prevent himself from saying he missed you the most. He was content with being anywhere on the planet so long as you were by his side.

"Then come home quicker, stink. It's been boring here without you," you teased. Gavi raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"So what you're saying is you miss me? Hm?" he taunted back, his signature smirk plastered on his face, his head slightly tilted.

"Oh definitely, I miss wiping vomit off my kitchen counters after driving you home from the bar. Can't wait to have you do that again," you replied sarcastically. 

This brings you to your current state. He was expected to touchdown in Barcelona at around 6 o'clock. Over an hour had passed, and you waited patiently in your living room, knowing he had to get through customs and everything. But you yearned for him and wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and give him the biggest hug, never letting go.

Stuck at the airport, Gavi shared the same thoughts. He promised to meet you as soon as possible, but now he was trapped in a cramped room with the team, waiting for someone's lost luggage. His foot bounced as he fumbled with the strings of his hoodie, growing increasingly impatient.

Not a day went by in the States without you on his mind. He remembers getting a pack of M&Ms from the hotel snack bar and how you would eat one color at a time before moving to another because it just "felt right that way." One rainy day in New York City, he glanced out the hotel window and recalled every time you would stomp in puddles to get his clothes wet, annoying him. He cautiously examined a coke bottle before opening it, knowing how many times you had pranked each other with shaken ones. 

But the worst was when he found himself at night in his bed staring at the ceiling, wide awake. He grew tired of seeing your face through a screen, your voice through a speaker. Without realizing it, he started counting down the days before he could see you again, the distance becoming unbearable.

Once the boys were free to leave, he practically leaped up from his seat and drove straight to your place. His phone died while waiting so he couldn't tell you he would be late. Gavi's heart sank at the thought of you in your living room, pacing back and forth, waiting for him. 

He had no idea why he had been feeling like this. You two had gone longer without speaking in the past, and he definitely misses you every time he goes away, but it was different this time. He couldn't concentrate on anything else, a distinguished emptiness in his chest at every thought of you. It was hard to put into words. 

He racked his brain at every explanation possible as to why until the familiar sight of your apartment building came into view. Exiting his car, he hurried into the building and hopped into an elevator. He didn't even need to see the floor numbers to know which he was punching. The action was essentially muscle memory at this point.

The elevator doors separated, and Gavi made his way to your door. He was tired and jetlagged, and his back was in pain from the uncomfortable position he was driving in. He rings your doorbell, hearing footsteps echoing inside before the door swings open.

His eyes meet yours for the first time in nearly a month. He catches you about to speak, but before you can, he wraps his arms around your waist, one of his hands resting between your shoulder blades. Gavi had pulled you flush against his chest, the force lifting you off your feet. He held you in the air for a moment before slowly placing you back down, his hand traveling up your spine to the back of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the crook of your neck, eyes shut, taking in your presence. How you felt under his touch, how your heart beat against his. Everything about you.

You were here. Not through a video call or an audio message. Gavi holds you for a moment, unwilling to let go in fear of being separated again. Once he eventually does, he pulls away slowly, your hands holding his arms. You two looked at each other, breathless from the adrenaline before you spoke.

"Hey."

"Hi." A smile slowly appeared on his face.

The two of you stood out in the hallway for the world to see, but Gavi couldn't care less. You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, your chest heaving, and your face burning red. 

And that was when he finally understood why he's been feeling this way all this time.

AUGUST 12 — ACCEPTANCE

It had been a month since Gavi came to terms with the fact that he likes you. A lot. He's had feelings for a good amount of girls and dated them in the past, but there was something in the way you made his heart race a little faster and made him forget about anyone else. 

Maybe "came to terms with" is not the correct phrase, considering how he's been acting lately. The week after he came home, he paced up and down his room for what felt like centuries, arguing with himself about these feelings. 'It was definitely the distance,' he thought, and now that he's home, it would all go away. That was quickly proven wrong when he failed to hold eye contact with you one night, fidgeting uncontrollably, cartwheels in his stomach.

'It's just a phase. I'll grow out of it,' Gavi thought a few days later, but now it had been a month since that fateful day, and all he's been able to think about was you.

He didn't know why he beat himself up so much because of it. Actually, he did know, deep down. He was terrified of losing you. You had shown interest in many boys multiple times, telling him about your crushes and situationships for hours. He also knew what you were like when it came to love — if someone dared to hurt you, you cut them out of your life without question.

Gavi was terrified that you didn't like him back. That one word, one wrong move, would send you far in the opposite direction, abandoning him. It scared him even more because you were his closest friend. You shared a bond with him that lasted years, never wavering, eternally strengthening. He didn't want to throw that away for your happiness or his.

It had been a month since Gavi came to terms with the fact that he liked you and had to keep quiet about it. He would rather swallow his feelings to keep you in his life than dare and watch you turn into a stranger.

This drove him into what felt like madness. It started to affect his daily life, even distracting him during training. He felt like a ticking time bomb that would eventually explode if he didn't tell anyone. He was never good at keeping his emotions in check.

Pedri was the first to notice this drastic change. Gavi always looked scared or anxious, but that was just his face. This time, he could tell something was different. He genuinely looked bothered. 

This continued for weeks. At first, Pedri wondered if it could be his fault or someone else's on the team. He asked Gavi in the dressing room one day. The youngster was flustered, quickly dismissing the question and changing the subject. Pedri's suspicions grew, and he felt worried. So he tried again. This time, it was on a bus ride during media day.

Upon hearing the question, Gavi let out an exasperated sigh and rested his head back on the seat. He felt irritated at the question, the carsickness not helping.

"Why are you asking me this again?"

Pedri tilted his head slightly. "Because I know something's wrong, Gav. You're shit at hiding it," he responded. "I mean, if I did something wrong, then tell me."

Gavi's head whipped to meet Pedri's gaze, his eyebrows furrowed. "No, it's not because of you."

"Is it one of the boys?"

"No, it's not one of the boys," he maintained. Pedri crossed his arms and leaned against the bus seat, still looking at Gavi. He takes his word for it but knows he's still upset. But if it wasn't about football, what could it have been?

He was about to find out soon enough.

One fateful afternoon, the team was doing photoshoots at Camp Nou. Photoshoots like these took up the whole day and meant a lot of sitting around doing nothing. Pedri didn't like photoshoot days, but he endured it every time, knowing it was his job.

The photoshoot was being done on the court, near the goalposts. The boys were waiting for the photographers to set up and have their names called one by one. While waiting, they lounged up in the spectator's seats. Legs up on the seats in front or lying across the ones next to them, they were trying to make themselves comfortable.

Pedri was no exception, taking several seats and lying on his back. He had one arm over his eyes, blocking the sunlight. He felt the wind on his face and people talking in the background. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard footsteps make their way up the steps and sat on the seat next to his head.

Putting his arm down, he twisted his body to look at who the person was. To his surprise, it was Gavi. The boy had practically avoided him since the bus incident a few days ago.

"What's up?" Pedri says, moving his hand on top of his stomach. Gavi looks out into the distance and responds.

"I need to tell you something."

Pedri detected the seriousness in his deep voice, the air around the two shifting. He took a deep breath before speaking up again, "You can tell me anything."

Gavi pauses for almost a minute before replying, Pedri growing uneasy by the second.

"I think... i'm in love with Y/N."

Pedri nearly scoffs at the revelation.

He sits up, smiling widely at Gavi. The boy looks at the expression on his face in confusion, almost in worry. Pedri's hand lands on Gavi's shoulder, patting it a few times.

"Congratulations on being the last one to find out."

[merakiui]

Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, and Childe Finding out That You’re Being Abused HCs

cw: mentions/descriptions of (physical and emotional) abuse, injuries, depressive mood/thoughts, implied violence **please proceed with caution and do not read if this is triggering! note - submissions are confusing for me, so I wrote it in this format. I hope that was okay! 

@tuestika said: Hi! Sorry that I send my request through submission, tumblr has sometimes eaten my asks either wholly or have omnomned whole ask xD Usually my requests sent through submissions arrive intact so…. I saw that you had done Scaramouche reacting finding out their s/o is being abused headcanons, may I request headcanons for Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao and Childe finding out their their s/o is being abused? Keep up good job! <3

🔥 Diluc 🔥

Diluc might not be the most vocal person in the world, but he’s definitely observant. He’s gotten rather skilled at picking apart your social cues because he’s spent a lot of time with you. 

So when you barge into his tavern one evening, looking absolutely disheveled and asking for one of the Knights, he’s feeling two emotions: confusion and irritation. 

For one, you shouldn’t even entrust your issue to those inadequate Knights. Nevertheless, you are his friend and he isn’t going to kick you out just because you mentioned them. 

He waves you over to the bar and is thoroughly shocked when you beg him to let you hide behind it. Then he notices your split lip and the fresh injuries on your face and forearms, and he wastes no time in getting to the point.

“Why were you out so late fighting hilichurls? I hope you haven’t led any here. We don’t need that sort of trouble right now.”

“Sorry. No, that’s not it. I just—you’re the only one...” You’re struggling to piece a coherent statement together, too busy looking over your shoulder to keep track of your thoughts. “I didn’t know where I could go. I mean, I thought of you and—“

“Please slow down. Start at the beginning.”

More concerned over your safety than professionalism, Diluc allows you to slip behind the bar counter, where you cower on the ground to avoid being seen. 

You gesture for him to come down to your height and he sighs, silently complying when he finds there aren’t any new customers to serve. Bending down to your level, he holds onto the countertop to keep his balance and then he locks eyes with you. 

“What exactly happened?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, wrapping your sore arms around yourself for comfort. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you recall the event. Your abuser had found you after you’d left to get some fresh air, they’d cornered you in a secluded alley, and—you can’t finish the rest of the story.

Diluc doesn’t expect you to continue. He nods as he lets the information sink in, already harboring a deep resentment for this despicable individual. 

“Wait here. I’ll close the tavern early. In the meantime, we should see to your injuries and then we’ll look for that person.”

“I really think we should tell the Knights...” you mumble, knowing he’ll disapprove. “They’re more suited to these types of cases.”

“The Knights are incompetent. The investigation will take days, if not weeks. What happens if your abuser knows they’ll be coming for them? They’ll try to escape and then there’ll be no telling where they’ve gone.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to—“

“I’ll take care of it.”

You try to object because it’s dangerous and you don’t want him to get injured on your behalf. But he’s insistent in his decision, claiming that if the Knights can’t help you no one can. And you really wouldn’t feel safe if your abuser was still roaming free, so you have no other choice but to allow him to carry out the investigation himself.

And Diluc can be quite clever at times. It won’t be hard to traverse the interior of Mondstadt at night, where his identity melts away into that of the sneaky Darknight Hero. 

He’s going to protect you no matter what. Your abuser won’t receive an ounce of sympathy from Diluc. All he feels is cold hatred when he catches them. Someone as precious as you does not deserve to be put through such torment, and he’ll see to it that your abuser pays a hefty price to make up for all of the damage they’ve caused.

🧊 Kaeya 🧊

Kaeya can’t understand why you’ve started isolating yourself from everyone. In the past, you were always such great friends with the Knights, always catching up to talk to one of them.

He’d spent a lot of time with you and has since gotten to know you through lighthearted conversations and gossip from the people of Mondstadt. 

For someone so appreciated and well-known, he can’t wrap his head around why you might want to suddenly disappear, hiding yourself away as if you didn’t exist. 

And then he happens to catch you in town one day while you’re out running some errands. It’s so like him to pop in with a few flirty lines, but the words stick in his throat when he notices the bandages stuck to your arms and legs. 

“That can’t be good,” he says as he approaches you, leaning ever so gracefully against a wooden support beam. “Why don’t we find Barbara? I’m sure she’ll have you patched up in no time, my dear friend.”

You don’t think you’re worth it so you shake your head, nervously hoping he’ll take the hint and go away. 

“I hope you’re not accepting those dangerous commissions again,” he adds, half teasing and half serious. You can’t tell whether he’s trying to sound chiding or not. 

“Please just...leave me be. I’m a little busy right now.” You try to leave the stall you’re at, walking stiffly to avoid limping in front of him. “I’m not feeling well, so if you’ll excuse me—“

Kaeya pushes off from the beam, standing in front of you with a posture that appears immovable. “By order of the Calvary Captain,” he’s saying, a playful glint in his eyes, “you aren’t allowed to move from that spot until you tell me what’s bothering you and why you’re covered head to toe in bandages.”

You can easily object to such an order, but you figure it’s better to answer instead of arguing over your physical condition. So you explain a modified version of the story, telling him that you simply got into a disagreement and it ended in bruises on both sides. 

Kaeya hears the tremble in your voice when you say it; you’re lying. His expression softens at once and he steps away, indicating that you’re free to leave. But you don’t; you’re looking at him with such a helpless, pleading look. It breaks his heart.

You break before him, lips quivering as you beg for his help. You’re so scared and alone, and you’re not sure how long you can suffer through this before it seriously hurts you. 

“This is the first time I’ve gotten out in weeks.” So that explains your sudden isolation. “Please... I don’t want to go back home anymore. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let them hurt me again.”

Kaeya’s absolutely stunned to hear the silent revelation in your words. You’re awkwardly reaching to undo one of the bandage wrappings to prove your point, but he stops you short. That’s all the proof he needs.

You’ll be brought back to the Knights of Favonius’ Headquarters to be tended to while he gathers a team to search for your abuser. Since you gave him a solid description, it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. 

And once they’re apprehended, Kaeya will subject them to a grueling interrogation. There will be no gentle punishment; it’s going to be as unforgiving as the abuse you had to suffer through. 

☁️ Xiao ☁️

You’ve never really been keen on physical touch and Xiao understands that completely. He usually avoids any sort of interaction to begin with, unless it’s absolutely necessary, so it’s not a surprise whenever you shy away from large crowds.

He has grown rather fond of you, which has lead to the two of you meeting at Wangshu Inn for some Almond Tofu and relaxed chit-chat.

During one of your many conversations, you bring up a few alarming statements. They’re just personal points you’d like to change, such as your weak fighting spirit or the way your joints brokenly click when you stretch. 

Xiao wonders why you’d want to change yourself. You’re not usually this doubtful of yourself. In the past, you would always play the role of his smiling friend, putting on a positive face even when he was in a disagreeable mood. 

Xiao is examining your movements as you awkwardly explain yourself and when your arms move he catches the sight of a rope burn etched into your wrist. 

“What happened?” He gestures to your sleeve, to which you react in a nervous manner, shyly pulling your sleeve down to hide it. Xiao frowns a bit. “Did you get into an accident?”

“No, of course not! I’m fine. It’s just a result of my clumsiness.”

It really doesn’t look like that to Xiao and when he truly looks at you again he finds that you appear abnormally tired and exhausted. He isn’t going to sugarcoat anything and he could be making a giant assumption, but he still asks.

“Is someone hurting you?”

Your eyes widen for a split second and Xiao catches that movement like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. He won’t force you to explain unless you feel comfortable doing so. The last thing he wants is upsetting you or pressuring you into something you don’t want to talk about.

Eventually, though, the story will come to light and he’ll hear all about the horrors you’ve gone through. That rope burn was just one of many punishments you’ve had to endure, and Xiao’s just about ready to snap. How dare someone lay their filthy hands upon you in such a violent way?

Xiao will calmly tell you to stay at Wangshu Inn or anywhere else in Liyue where you’ll be safe. He’ll watch over you while you take time to recuperate and heal. He’s going to make sure you’ll never have to go through something like that ever again.

Having Xiao by your side makes the healing process all the more comforting.

And when you fall asleep in a soft, warm bed, Xiao slips out into the night to search for your abuser. It won’t be a pretty sight once he gets his hands on the human trash who dared to hurt you.

💧 Childe 💧

He’s very perceptive when it comes to your health and overall well-being. After all, he’s got brothers and sisters to care for; perception is absolutely necessary in order to keep them happy and healthy.

So it doesn’t take long for him to realize your behavior is uncharacteristic. You’re jumpier than usual, always apologizing for the littlest of things, and you’ll look over your shoulder whenever you sense something.

It’s almost as if you expect someone to suddenly come at you, which isn’t all that odd. Childe has been known to keep you on your toes when he’s looking for a fight.

But on one particular day he manages to give you a spook when he comes up beside you, grinning and showing up in your peripheral so suddenly that it nearly gives you a heart attack. 

You’re so frightened as you back away, practically folding in on yourself in an effort to protect yourself from an imaginary blow. Childe pauses, that silly grin fading when he realizes you’re shaking.

“Hey, it wasn’t that scary. Come on, comrade!” He’s approaching you warily, not entirely sure why you’re acting the way you are. He’s always been spontaneous; you should be used to this by now.

But you refuse to let him come any closer, having to distance yourself so that you can ease your racing heart and hyperventilating lungs. Once you’ve calmed down, embarrassment floods through you at the fact that Childe just witnessed all of that. 

Childe will ask if you’re okay with him stepping closer and if you nod he’ll be on you like a hawk, pulling up your sleeves before you can stop him. 

For once, you catch an expression you normally don’t find on Childe: surprise. He’s genuinely shocked at what he sees: dark bruises and shallow lacerations from something sharp. 

Either you got these in your many sparring matches or there’s another factor at play here, and Childe is almost certain it’s the latter.  

His voice is gentle as he asks you to explain what’s going on and once you do he’s already set on finding the one who did this. He seems to forget all about his Fatui work, wanting to capture your abuser and give them a piece of his mind—and subject them to more than a few pieces of his strength, too. 

He’ll have you protected in no time, offering to take you to the best healer. You’ll be treated wonderfully and he’ll even lay off on your sparring matches for a while. 

In the meantime, once he gets his hands on your abuser, everything becomes fair game. After all, someone has to handle the brunt of his anger and pent-up bloodlust from the lack of a fight. And your abuser is the perfect match to pummel into the ground. Childe shows absolutely no mercy for them. 

[revenantemeritus]

A Gentleman’s Word (1/?)

A/N: I originally posted this story on Wattpad back when the first Kingsman film came out. This is the new rewrite of the original story. This is my first ever fic on Tumblr, so if the post comes out weird or if there's any errors. I will be actively updating this story, at least one a week since I am in the process of rewriting the original. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Pairing: Harry Hart x Kingsman!OC

Warnings: Mentions of death, unrequited love, pining, mild language.

Summary: Evelyn Wicker and Harry Hart have been inseparable since their time at the Academy. After being initiated into Kingsman the two worked side by side to ensure success. The only kick is Evelyn's deep-seeded love for her counterpart which at some point begins to interfere with her work. After their near death (and the death of Eggsy's father) the two both have a common goal; to right the wrongs. The recent death of James, better known as Lancelot, allows Harry to finally make good on the vow he took all those years ago. Evelyn is torn once she receives the news that Harry has been put into a coma after the incident with Professor Arnold, and she has to make a choice. But is it the right one?

Word Count: 1216

I'm sitting in my usual seat in the corner across from Harry's desk with my nose buried in a newspaper. Mornings like these were not usual, in fact most of our free mornings were spent this way. Harry Hart and I have been an inseparable duo since the moment we met as teenagers. We graduated secondary school together, we went through Kingsman initiation together, and we were inducted into the organization together. Galahad and Guinivere fighting side by side through even the most impossible of situations. Of course, due to the nature of our employment, we aren't always together. Both of us are sent on our own individual mission, promising one another that we will return to tell the tale.

From the outside looking in it would appear that we maintained the perfect friendship, existing amongst each other in harmony. Perhaps even for Harry that's how our relationship may seem, but the same cannot be said for myself. Truth be told, I have been harboring feelings for my partner since we were teenagers. I would be lying if I said that I haven't thought about telling him; so many years have passed, one would think I would have by now. It's been 27 years of keeping this secret to myself, and to be honest it's driving me crazy. I can keep things professional, that's no problem; but it's on mornings like these, when it's just the two of us, that my mind begins to wander. It's like a scene out of one of the corny romance films, always peering up at him from my newspaper while he's distracted. Except there are no stolen glances or unspoken mutualism, just one woman pining for a man far out of her reach.

I lower my newspaper and begin folding it, keeping my eyes focused on the task at hand. "Finished already?" Harry quips, looking up from the newspaper in front of him. I look up and give him a slight smile, "I am. Nothing terribly interesting today it would seem." I soon drop my gaze back down as I stand and walk over to the bin, tossing the newspaper in it. Behind me I can hear his newspaper rustling, and the soft tap of his glasses being set down on his desk. I turn around and face him, surprised to see that he has also gotten out of his seat. "You are certainly right about that," he walks over to where I'm at and tosses his newspaper in the bin.

Giving a short nod to him, I twist the doorknob and step out of the room, not taking another glance back at him.  I make my way to the kitchen where a kettle is waiting, water already boiled and ready to be poured. I take a glance at the front door, debating whether or not I should head home or stay for just a bit longer. Behind me, Harry is leaning against the door frame, watching me struggle through my indecisiveness. "Leaving so soon?" he says, raising an eyebrow at me as I turn and look at him with a halfhearted smile. "Maybe. I'm trying to decide whether or not I should actually buy groceries today, knowing they'll most likely go to waste." A soft chuckle erupts from his lips, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. "That is true; you spend more time here or at headquarters than you do your own home." I turn and face him with a slight eye roll, "you're right. Maybe I should buy groceries for yours instead of mine, since I'm here so often and all." His smirk breaks into a full closed smile, the corners of his eyes creasing just slightly. "That wouldn't be a terrible idea; it's definitely not one of your worst." I place my hand over my heart and feign being offended, "now that's just hurtful." This time he lets out a genuine laugh, the sound of it warming my heart.

"Come now we both know you have had some wild plans in the past," he quips, still leaning against the wooden doorframe. I raise a brow slightly at him, "even so, how many of those 'crazy ideas' of mine have pulled us through some rather impossible situations." With that he holds his hands up in defeat, "you've got me there." Soon after the words cross his lips the room falls silent, the air growing stale between us. I take another glance at the door, trying to think of a valid excuse to leave. After another moment of ponder, I turn my head to him and open my mouth to speak, but the sound of our glasses going off stop them in my throat. I blink in surprise and reach into my cardigan pocket, pulling out my glasses. As I look back up, I find that Harry has retreated back into his office to retrieve his glasses. With a soft sigh I unfold my glasses and place them on my face, "Merlin." The line is silent for a moment, making my heart plummet into my stomach. "Merlin? What is it?" I wait a moment longer before a hear a saddened sigh from his line, "come to the conference room; we've lost Lancelot." My face fell in that exact moment, my eyes looking up to meet Harrys saddened expression.

"We're on our way," is all I say before pulling my glasses off, setting them on the kitchen table. Harry walks out of his office and returns to the kitchen, his eyes meeting mine as he approaches. "Do we know what Lancelot was doing?" I say, my voice coming out a lot quieter than I intended. "No, but I'm certain Merlin will fill us in when we get there." I nod and frown, finding it impossible to move from the spot I'm planted in. As I step away to retrieve my suit from his office, all I hear behind me is one simple word from Harry.

"Shit."

As I pull out my suit from the case I keep it in, my mind begins to wander back to the day that Lancelot became Lancelot. A day that I know Harry carries of the weight of to this day, despite it begin 17 years ago. It was his mistake that ended up killing one of the recruits, one that we all thought was prime Kingsman material. If it hadn't been for Unwins bravery everyone else in that room would have died alongside him. Merlin, Harry, Lancelot, and I owe our lives to the man who sacrificed his to save ours. I glance over my shoulder as I slide my suit jacket on, seeing Harry running a hand over his face. After sliding my final pieces into place, I exit the office and walk up behind him. I reach out and place a hand softly on his shoulder in support, hoping to ease his nerves as best I can. With a reassuring squeeze some of the tension in his shoulders loosens and he turns, facing me fully. My heart aches in my chest at the sight of his pained expression, the guilt of his past mistake clear in his eyes.

Without a second thought and envelop him in a hug, his arms immediately snaking around my frame.

"We'll make this right Harry, together."

Together.