#you have to stop weaponizing that against writers you don't like.

[anneapocalypse]

So, just curious how many writers and creators will have to be forcibly outed by relentless harassment before we acknowledge that "This queer characters was written by a cishet person and that's why they're bad" is not good criticism.

[ddejavvu]

hi mei! i absolutely love your stories! you’re a really great writer 🥰

i was wondering if u’d be interested in doing a hotch drabble about him with a s/o who seems really intimidating but is actually really soft and sweet?

like maybe it’s her appearance that makes the team intimidated by her—edgy clothing and dark makeup and stuff—when she shows up to hang out with hotch on his lunch breaks. and she’s like ‘i feel like your team doesn’t like me :(‘ and he’s like ‘honey, they’re borderline scared of you’ but it’s fluffy.

if you don’t wanna that’s totally okay! i did a bad job explaining but i’m sure you’d do an amazing job :)

love ya!! hope ur having a good day

Aaron loves when you visit him at the office for lunch, but you don't look like you're in high spirits yourself. When you sit down its with a huff and a hiss of the chair accommodating your weight, only adding to your dramatics.

"This might be my career in profiling speaking," Aaron begins, his voice soft in case something is terribly wrong, "But something tells me you're not having a good day, sweetheart."

"You're good," You tease him, and he wishes you could laugh about it together, "Aaron, I think Doctor Reid is afraid of me."

Aaron has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Doctor Reid is afraid of buffets, he thinks, but it's not an abundance of germs that unnerves Spencer about you, it's- well, it's everything he knows about you.

"Honey," Aaron calls upon that sweet tone again, "He doesn't know you very well."

"You didn't deny it!" You groan, falling back into your chair and abandoning your soup on his desk, "I knew it. What did I do?"

Aaron looks into your eyes, black-lined and sharp. He watches you chew on your cheek, your black-stained lips moved by the nervous quirk. Below your tense jaw is a chain that rests against your neck, not a full choker but not loose, either. It nearly disappears into the hem of your jacket, black leather that falls over a rather graphic old band tee.

"It's not what you've done," Aaron explains tentatively, "It's probably- well, how you look."

Your nose scrunches, and Aaron marvels the fact that you seem to have forgotten your appearance, "How do I look?"

"Like a doberman pinscher in human form," Aaron bites off a corner of his sandwich, chewing it in lieu of pressing the matter further.

"I like dobermans." You supply weakly, "Why is he afraid of me?"

"You're just not what he's used to," Aaron sighs, swallowing his mouthful and leaning across the desk, hand outstretched, "He probably thinks you could dismember him with those nails."

You place your palm in Aaron's own, and he flips your hand around to showcase the rather impressively sharp acrylics you're sporting.

"And your boots are heavier than he is, I guarantee it," Aaron nods down at your thick-soled black boots, ones that give away your entrance from a mile away by the sound of their rubber hitting the ground.

"He's just..." Aaron searches for the right word, trying not to disparage you or Reid, "Skittish. You should talk to him, though, honey. He likes science, and literature, and Star Trek. Pick something from one of those categories, and I promise he'll never stop talking to you for the rest of your life."

You're mostly satisfied, but you let your hand rest in Aaron's for a moment longer, and he'd be a fool to drop it.

"Am I scary, Aaron?" You ask earnestly, and his smile is warm as he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss at your knuckles.

"Not to me. And not to anyone who knows you," He promises, "But... it is nice to not have to worry about carrying a gun when we go out together."

"Aaron!" You laugh, "I'm not a weapon!"

"You could be!" Aaron insists, tugging your hand over to his lunch and dragging your fingernail across his sandwich, "Here, honey, cut it for me, would you? They forgot to give us knives."

"Stop!" You insist, but your laughter gives you away as you turn back to your soup with burning cheeks, "Just you wait, Aaron. As soon as Penelope stops running whenever I enter a room, we're gonna talk shit about you for this."

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

It's time y'all.

Let's talk about HOBIE & RACE

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would display black solidarity by finding black women in specific attractive.

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would possibly like a partner who could understand his experiences with racism.

- It is not problematic to say he would possibly like a partner who understands how to take care of his hair, or shares the same hair texture.

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would find beauty in features specific to the black race - when we have been told those features are undesirable in every way for centuries.

We gotta talk about how Colorblindness is forced on Black Characters - Hobie in Specific

Y'all - it's time we have a VERY VERY overdue conversation about Hobie Brown and Race.

Because it is a necessary one.

Hobie Brown, The Black!Reader, & Representation -

aka Black people are not Colorblind - and neither is Hobie Brown -

[let Diane hop on the mic right quick Chile]

Stop acting like Black Fictional Characters would be colorblind.

Black people can't be colorblind, because our color is weaponized against us from birth. We HAVE to see race - because we have to protect ourselves and know our own history

So when we decide to make spaces specifically for us - spaces where black people and black women in specific can be desired and uplifted, I don't see why people have a problem with it.

Hobie Brown loves, yes. But he also lives in 1978. Racial segregation was outlawed in his country in 1965.

Hobie Brown loves, but he's also a black guy who grew up under racial segregation and racism. He's a black guy who fights cops.

The Writers made Spiderpunk - The Spiderperson who fights oppressive cops - black for a REASON.

The Writers chose to have a black guy save Miles for a REASON. To uplift black people.

Writers here on Tumblr made Black!Readers black for same reason.

If Black Lives Matter doesn't mean White Lives Don't Matter -

Then 'Hobie Brown finds black chicks especially attractive' DOESN'T mean 'white women are unattractive'. This isn't about y'all.

And even for the people that say Hobie would like ONLY black people - okay??? They can say that - it's a literal headcanon.

It's not true if you don't want it to be. You don't have to believe it.

But seeing Black people be protective of a black character, and making black content for other black fans - and then saying 'what - stop that. that's wrong. break this up so I can join'

BEFORE you question why they do it - NOT COOL.

That's like asking for more Captain America in Black Panther. Like ?????

That's like hearing a Riot Grrrl say 'All the women to the front!!' and going 'Uhh, all genders are equal, why can't the men stand in the front too?'

Like yes, all genders are equal. But also - This isn't about them. It's about representation.

Stop preaching equality when we're asking for representation.

Cause there are dozens, hundreds, of white characters who only have white on-screen romances.

And their fandoms do not write black!readers. They do not care enough to say 'oh the show isn't representing this, let us do it.'

The media nor the fandom represent black women. They are an afterthought, always.

And you never see posts for them like -

'Dean Winchester loves black women. Dean Winchester loves latinas -'

When it's a white character only dating white women, with xReaders that always imply whiteness, y'all never call for diversity. At all.

You wouldn't make this post for Miguel.

But when it's a black character and someone suggests they only date black women, or people begin to write xReaders that imply blackness instead of your default-

Suddenly you care about diversity.

Because the first time, you're not represented.

Because let's be honest. Let's be real. No one is writing Hobie x White!Reader. Barely anyone is writing Hobie x Latina!Reader.

It's the Black!Reader you have a problem with. Let's just say it.

Allow black people to have their space, without unfairly calling for 'diversity'.

(aka the right to access to black safe spaces, comfort characters, and labor)

Hobie is an attractive, educated black guy who fights and protects people from the aggressors we ourselves genuinely fear everyday.

He is a character like we've never had before. He has so much emotional weight to us.

Let us enjoy him as we please. We aren't hurting anyone else.

We're just not catering to you. We don't have to.

If a black person wants to center Hobie's love on Black people, they have the right.

And I'm not saying you can't write him with a race neutral or even a White!Reader. Go ahead and write that if you want but just know-

1) If you want to write him with an explicitly white or non-black reader - you should approach the topic of race. You should approach and mention the cultural differences. Him going through racism. Don't erase that because you think it makes your writing ugly or sad.

And if you don't put it in, your erasing the reality and black experience because you find something wrong or uncomfortable about it.

2) If you want to write a race neutral reader - make sure they're really race neutral. Don't include details about hair texture, hairstyle, or skin color.

3) If you are asking black writers for requests - do not get mad if they make the request Black.

You cannot get mad at a black writer for interjecting their own experience when writing about a black character. You're basically asking them to strip their blackness from their writing so you can enjoy it more.

Why should they have to second guess and dial back their blackness when we're expected to do that everywhere? If they want to take a break, and write Black!Readers they can.

3) Understand that the black people are going to keep their safe spaces. And they're going to keep Hobie in their corner.

Because honestly, and I'm going to put this brazenly:

Hobie Brown as a character - and what he represents - means more to black fans than it does nonblack fans.

Does that mean he doesn't matter to y'all? No, not at all. Hobie absolutely holds real emotional weight and meaning to you on multiple levels.

But please understand, for black people - we connect to Hobie on an emotional, often trauma-fueled front.

One that you'll never understand.

There is a level that we connect with him on that nonblack people can't. As a dark skinned black guy, a black guy with natural hair, an alt black guy,

As a black guy who has canonically faced police brutality on-screen

To you, this screenshot is most likely Hobie flipping the camera off, edgy and punk. It's funny, tongue in check. ACAB and all that.

To us, this screenshot is of Hobie - a low income black guy - being physically restrained by police and refusing to stop even when they're taking his mugshot. It's a black guy openly flipping off the police and fighting them off and refusing to go down no matter how much they beat him and he's winning YES

After so many videos over SO many years of cops doing that to black men and them.. not winning.

And them just dying and us having to watch. And add another name to list.

When you see his laces, you most likely think ACAB.

When we see his laces, we see that he's a black man who took on a cop and lived to tell the tale. Which is a RARITY.

Because many of them lose the battle.

For us, the context and connection are completely different.

Fanfiction may just be a way for you to kiss up on random characters or comfort yourself, but for us - that's not the case.

For us, fanfiction is a way to show our experiences and features in a media and world that has collectively ignored them. Shunned them, called them ugly.

Maybe make a post or send an ask to a creator - and ask what Black!Readers mean for them, why they find it important.

Hobie Brown likes Black Girls.

He finds them beautiful. He likes wide lips and broad noses and kinky hair. He loves melanin, and brown skin in the sunlight, and seeing a them in a silk bonnet in the morning.

He loves not having to explain his culture, sharing coconut oil and shea butter. He likes seeing waist beads. He likes people who speak AAVE, with twang in their talk.

He likes ghetto black girls with the acrylic nails. He likes Stallions 6 foot tall. He likes masc girls. And fem ones. He loves black nonbinary people because we do not have to cosign to colonialist ideas of gender. And he loves him some black men too - a good fade will make him go crazy, he loves men with long locs and pretty smiles.

Hobie Brown finds the beauty in Black People that have been erased and demonized again and again by White Society.

Hobie Brown holds blackness dear. And he wants black people to do well.

Hobie Brown loves Black People. Hobie Brown loves Black Girls.

And that's on, what?

This has been a PSA from Diane Pastors. Y'all stay blessed out there 😌💗

Anyway what y'all wearing to carnival since we going to carnival and cropover and labor day with Hobie and bringing out all the flags. 🇧🇧🇧🇧 I'm bringing him to cropover in Barbados yeah I said it we're all going to carnival with him.

[bangtanficsforyou]

Vérités Cachées (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader.

Summary: You try to make an escape from a beast, that you happen to have encountered while on a vacation with your boyfriend.

Genre: fluff, mild angst, smut.

Word count: 8K (it was supposed to be a 1K drabble)

Warnings: steamy stuff, or^l (f receiving), ti^^y sucking, fing^^^ng p in v s^x, mild d^^ty talk if it counts, s^x out in the wild (against a tree to be very specific) (p.s: it feels so awkward writing it with all the '^' but idk man apparently Tumblr flags it or something otherwise? And I have seen other writers do the same, so yeah)

Based on this request.

Masterlist

If you enjoy my writing consider supporting my patreon!

Faster. Just a little bit faster. 

"Stop."

The leaves scrunch underneath your feet as you try to work them as fast as you possibly can. 

"Stop!"

You have lost track of how long you have been running. All you know is that your knees feel weak and they are this close to giving out. 

But you cannot stop. 

"Y/N, stop."

No matter what you do Y/N, do not stop. 

Your lungs beg you to take a break and let them have their share of oxygen. Your throat runs dry and the saliva you have been gulping a little too frequently is just not enough anymore. These things should have been enough of a sign for you to realise that even if you willfully don't give up, your body will. 

And that is exactly what happens the very next moment. 

You feel a sharp pain in your left leg. The muscles cramp in protest and make it impossible for you to keep your pace up. You falter and somehow limp to lean against a tree for support. 

Your mind goes to lactic acid and how lack of oxygen can have your muscles doing anaerobic breakdown. Geez, you should have gone to the gym and have been a little more familiar with physical exercises. Maybe then your body wouldn't have burnt out this easily. 

You try to move your legs and examine the damage. The good thing is the cramp doesn't seem severe, the discomfort should be gone soon. The bad news is, for the recovery to be fast, you need to take deep breaths and relax for the lactic acid to be washed from your system.

All these calculative thoughts are brought to a stop when you hear footsteps approaching. Shit. 

You bend down and take hold of a piece of rock, the only thing available that can be used as a weapon. 

"Y/N," a breathy voice reaches your ears and a figure soon comes into sight. 

The figure happens to be of someone you know very well. Jungkook's. Your boyfriend.

Which is the absolute worst part. 

The man comes closer to you with his eyes locked on yours and you notice the fury in them.

A shiver runs down your spine and you raise the stone in a threatening manner. "You come one step closer and I'll hit you with this."

The man doesn't react in any manner. Almost as if the words don't register, as if he's in a world of his own. 

He doesn't stop walking towards you which makes you hold the piece of rock firmly, ready to aim. However, he suddenly is a little too close to you and with one flick of his hand, he manages to throw your so-called weapon to the ground, leaving you defenceless. 

You don't even try to hide how terrified you feel like this, all weaponless against something you don't even properly know what it is. 

You're about to plead for your life when he speaks. 

"Are you okay?" 

The voice. Even the voice is an exact replica of Jungkook's. Whatever this man is, he sure as hell is dangerous if he can imitate a person this flawlessly. Lord knows what other tricks he has up his sleeves. 

You don't answer his question for you know he could possibly not have any interest in your well-being. 

"What are you? Why are you chasing me?" 

Something about your shaky voice has a visible effect on him and he puts a little distance between the two of you. It's enough for you to release the breath you were holding but you also don't miss how he keeps a close eye on your movements for any time you try to escape. 

"I–I am Jungkook," the man speaks and despite the stutter in his words, he speaks with confidence. 

You manage a weak scoff. "As if I'd ever believe that. Do you think I didn't see? You think you can fool me?"

"What did you see?" His senses go full-on alert.

"I know–" you look away from the man in fear when the scene replays in your mind, "–I know you are no ordinary human. You're a beast."

You don't know what happens next, for there's a pause. A pause, that is long enough for you to hope that he's gone. You would have liked to check if your assumptions were right had you not been this scared to open your eyes. 

However, you do not have to keep guessing for much longer, for moments later there's a hand being placed under your chin, which slowly and gently guides you to turn your head towards the man.

"Open your eyes."

Initially, you don't oblige. You keep your eyes tightly shut. But as the silence lingers and the hand under your chin refuses to leave, you open your left eye to take a peek. 

All you see is the man looking at you with the same intense gaze, something burning bright behind those orbs that intimidates you to no end. Aside from that, you also deduce that he's not in the mood of giving up. He seemingly wants to talk to you or worse, wants to do something to you and is willing to wait for it. 

You think it's rather wise to cooperate with him while he's still calm and patient. Maybe that way, you'll be able to fool him and while given the chance, make an escape. That way you will also buy yourself time for your muscles to relax and recover.

You slowly open your eyes, apprehensive of what he might do next. 

He only repeats his previous statement. "I need you to believe me when I say, I'm Jungkook. The same Jungkook you have known for so long."

You know you shouldn't argue with him. You're in no position to take the risk of igniting a fire you know you'll not be able to put off. But despite your logical reasoning, you feel deeply irked with this man's audacity to claim he's Jungkook. Just how dare he? 

Against, your better judgement, all thoughts of cooperating with the man are forgotten.

"I do not believe you for a second." 

"I don't blame you for it. But I need you to give me the time to explain myself," he speaks in the same calm, confident tone. "Stop panicking, I won't cause you any harm–"

"What are you?" You interrupt him, mid-sentence, knowing you need to have some idea of what he is for you to consider his words of not harming you, seriously. 

For the first time, he looks away, "I'm a werewolf." 

Werewolf. So now you know, what this man is. 

You search your brain for all the information that you have ever come across about werewolves. How dangerous are they? Do they eat human flesh? Do they murder people? 

The more you come up with questions and their respective answers, you realise that none of these answers are reliable for all you know about werewolves are solely based on fictional books or movies. There's no guarantee that anything these movies and books portray is anything barely similar to the way a real werewolf is.

How can it be anything close to the real thing, when werewolves were supposed to be completely fictional? Heck, you wouldn't have believed it had you not seen it yourself. 

You sigh when you realise despite now having the crucial information about him, you literally know nothing. You are still as vulnerable as you were before. 

"Can I speak now?" 

You look at him and reply with a nod. You may not know how reliable his promise of safety is but as long he's talking, you're safe.

"I don't mean to cause you any harm, I'd never. I understand why you're so scared but let me...let me just explain."

You nod again, urging him to speak. 

"Some werewolves, like me, live among humans considering that there isn't much forest left in these areas and if we were to move to rural places, it would cause a problem for the werewolves living there. It also increases the chances of gaining unnecessary attention.

I have always lived quietly and never interacted with humans unless necessary. But I had to join the company because apparently there was a documentary on werewolves being made which had footage of real werewolves. A few of us were assigned the job to stop the documentary from being made available to the public."

As a journalist, if there's one thing you have learned over the years, it's the ability to tell when a person is lying. And somehow according to your analysis, he isn't. 

However, you shoot that thought down telling yourself he's not a human. He's a werewolf, lord knows what they can do. You're used to interacting with people who lie, not with supernatural beings. 

"If I had to get a hold of the files and clips, I had to interact with people. I had to get friendly with them and had to get as much information as I could. Which is how I started talking to you."

The mention catches your attention. 

"I was not supposed to fall for you but I did. I did not realise that at some point I had started talking to you not in order to get information out but because I genuinely wanted to. I looked forward to meeting you, talking to you and spending time with you. I fell for you when I was not supposed to.

Falling was a different thing but dating was a whole other story. I simply, simply did not know how to tell you the truth. When we started dating, I was far too deep. I wanted to call you mine and take you places but at the same time, there was this guilt gnawing at me for hiding my true nature from you. 

However, when you said that you were in love with me, that was the day that I decided I would do whatever it takes to protect us. Even if it means not telling you the truth." 

The man stops, probably done with what he had to say. However, you find his words extremely suspicious. How can you not? The man you have known and loved for a whole year, suddenly turns out to be a werewolf? As if you wouldn't have caught it sooner had it been the case. 

You try to move your leg a little to check the condition of your cramp but you make sure that your movements are subtle so that it doesn't catch his attention. You find a bit of relief when you realise that the majority of the pain has subsided.

"Let's say what you're saying is true, how come I have never caught you before?" 

"We werewolves do not shift that much. Irrespective of what TVs and films may have made you believe, we do not turn into a wolf against our wishes on a full moon night. If we do change into a wolf, it's only when we want and choose to do so."

You furrow your brows. "You mean you chose to turn into a wolf today? It wasn't an accident?"

He nods. "I booked a vacation in the middle of a forest because it is comforting for the wolf in me to be here. I wanted to just turn into a wolf and go around for a stroll. Never did I think you'd end up seeing me in the middle of a transformation."

You look away when you realise he's done answering. You need to come up with another question, something, anything to keep him occup–

"You do not believe me." 

His words catch you by surprise and you gulp in fear. You cannot let him know that you're not playing whatever game he's playing, who knows it might just make him lose his cool. You can't have that. It's better to play dumb. 

"That's not true, I am just trying to piece the puzzle together."

The man scoffs with a small chuckle. "You think I can't tell when you lie? I've known you for a long enough time to be able to do that." 

Oh shit. 

"I understand that you're in total disbelief. As if learning werewolves exist wasn't enough, you also learnt your... boyfriend is one. That can't be easy." 

You still do not believe his words but nod nevertheless. 

He gently puts your hands in his and his thumb fiddles with the promise ring that Jungkook had given you. 

That's weird. Jungkook used to do that whenever he was nervous and needed to calm down. 

No, no, no. Just because he is fiddling with your promise ring doesn't mean he's Jungkook. He can't be. 

You withdraw your hand from his and look at him with a determination that you didn't have before, a little annoyed with yourself for considering the possibility that this man might just be Jungkook. "I do not know who you are and what you want from me but I know one thing and that is, you're not Jungkook." 

"What can I do to make you believe me?" 

You shake your head vigorously. "You cannot be Jungkook. My Jungkook is gentle, sweet, and caring. You seemed so scary, my Jungkook is not like that." 

"Please look at me," after your withdrawal from him, he does not choose to make you look at him. He realises that irrespective of how gentle he might have been, you may still be uncomfortable with it. Thankfully, you do look at him even if it's after, what seemed to be a moment of contemplation. "I am so sorry that you had to find out this way. But I promise despite my appearance as a wolf, I am still the same Jungkook you know. There's nothing that you don't know about me."

Something about his eyes makes it impossible for you to look away. Maybe it's just the strong emotion that shines through his orbs but for the first time, you notice that his eyes aren't filled with fury. 

Out of both curiosity and anxiety, you keep your eyes fixed on his' to understand what exactly is it he's feeling. 

A few moments later, you still keep looking. Not because you can't figure out the emotion being reflected in his orbs but rather because you can and you think it simply cannot be so. You must be seeing it wrong. Because what you see is......fear. A lot of fear. He's terrified. 

But that can't be it. Why would a werewolf who's been filled with fury, suddenly be so scared? Unless...unless, he wasn't furious in the first place and it was your fight or flight mode that had made it look like he was furious. 

Does that mean he has been terrified from the very beginning? 

"What...what do you want from me?" Your question comes from a place of confusion. So far you had been under the assumption that this man wants to harm you. But if that were the case, why is he so scared? Things aren't adding up! 

"I just want you to realise that I'm Jungkook." 

His words play on repeat in your mind. That's the only thing he's been claiming since the beginning, that he is Jungkook. 

"Why would Jungk–No, Jungkook would have told me if he was a werewolf. He would have never kept it hidden." 

"Maybe Jungkook was too scared that he'd lose you and you'd stop seeing him with love. That the love and adoration you have for him will turn into fear."

He looks like his whole world is falling apart and he's barely holding on. 

Fear. This is the source of his fear. This is exactly what he's been so terrified of.

You frown in a state of confusion that turns out to be painful for you. Could this man really be Jungkook? Is Jungkook, him? Are they the same person? 

"Would it be so bad if Jungkook were to be a werewolf?" The question is asked softly, a little too softly for your liking and your head spins as it only confuses you even further for you once again, entertain the possibility.

Jungkook. Your sweet, cute, bunny-eyed Jungkook whom you love so much, is a werewolf? It's absurd because you still can't make peace with the fact that werewolves are real. But if it is the Jungkook you know and have grown to love, would it matter? You don't think so. But it's not a question of whether Jungkook is a werewolf. Right now, it's a question about whether this man, who's a werewolf, is Jungkook. 

You calmly go through everything he has said so far. Him, joining the company because he had to stop a documentary from being released, which could threaten the truth about werewolves being released to the common public. You recall how he was when he joined, he was distant, and his conversations looked forced as if he was doing it because he doesn't have any other choice. Or the way he was a little too curious about the itsy bitsy details, that no one else paid mind to. Even the time you had found him going through a series of tapes from the office room. Could it all be because he was trying to gather information about the documentary? Could he be saying the truth?  

"What happened to the documentary then, did you get a hold of it?" 

The man shakes his head. "As it turns out, no such documentary existed in the first place. It was just a rumour which had gotten out of hand." 

You immediately shoot him with another question. "Why then, are you still working in our company?" 

He chews on the inside of his cheeks, contemplating if you'd even believe his answer. "Because of you." 

Something entirely unexpected happens. Your heart skips a beat. In the midst of all the confusion and fear, your traitor heart skips a beat! 

You immediately scold yourself for it. What if he's lying to you? What if he's not actually Jungkook?

But, the way he's looking at you....it's the same way Jungkook looks at you. How can it feel like Jungkook if he's not Jungkook? This man could be lying and pulling stories out of his ass but his eyes? What do they say about eyes being the window to the soul? If so, why does it remind you of Jungkook so much? 

You shut your eyes close tightly and ask him a question as your last resort. "Tell me something only Jungkook would know."

It doesn't even take him a second and words come pouring out of his mouth. "You like your noodles a little less boiled because that's the way your mom cooked them. You like it when it rains because the weather comforts you. You enjoy it when I play with your hair because you find it soothing. You haven't talked to your brother for months after that fight even though you really want to. You have a little scar on your thighs from the time–"

"You're Jungkook," you whisper to yourself, finding your walls crumbling and your guard lowering. There's no way anyone except Jungkook would know these things. 

Jungkook is hit with a tremendous wave of relief which you do not miss. His body visibly reacts as if a huge bag of stone has been lifted off his shoulders.

"I am Jungkook," he whispers back, repeating your words to confirm what you have just said. As if he cannot believe that he has managed to make you trust him. "I am sorry you had to find out this way,"

"You really are a werewolf? You always have been a werewolf? Every time we have talked, you were a werewolf?" 

Your set of questions causes Jungkook to get nervous again and he takes a step back. Now feeling sure that you won't try to run away from him, he only manages a weak nod as an answer to all of your questions.  

"Wow," your mouth forms an 'o' as you let all of it sink in. Jungkook is a werewolf. Your Jungkook is a werewolf. "I wish you had told me sooner."

"I was so scared I'd lose you," he mutters, his voice wavering, all the confidence and firmness he was showing before, now gone. It's only now that your previous thoughts are confirmed that he's been this scared from the very beginning and you realise his confidence was merely a facade to calm you down. "You being scared of me is an absolute nightmare." 

You don't speak for a moment. Now that you feel like you aren't in danger, you take a few seconds to observe him. He is nervous, that much is obvious. But it's the little details about him that call for your attention. You know how he avoids eye contact when he feels small, you know how he runs his tongue against the inside of his cheek when he feels annoyed with himself and you know how he craves to have some part of his body to be in touch with yours because it grounds him. His clenched fists are a sign enough, that he wants to hold onto you, but is resorting with every fibre of his being.

Looking at him now, you wonder how you had not noticed these things before. How you could, even for a moment, think that he was not Jungkook. It's him, everything about him is Jungkook. 

He is Jungkook. Your Jungkook. 

You take a step towards him, to reduce the distance he had put between the two of you. 

"I think the fact that you're a werewolf hasn't quite sunk in, a part of me still is in disbelief," you place your palms against his cheeks and hold his face gently. "But something in my heart tells me you're my Jungkook and that's all that matters. Werewolf, vampire, human, I don't care."

Jungkook closes his eyes and releases a shaky exhale. "Can I hug you?"

You wrap your arms around him and let your head rest against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat washes away any remaining doubts or anxiety you might have had as you relax in his warmth that is so familiar. 

Jungkook goes completely limp in your hold as he too wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tightly. He lets go of all the tension in his body and the both of you stand there in the middle of a forest embracing each other. 

You would have liked to stay like that a little longer but a sniffle from Jungkook makes you break the embrace. You look at him to find his eyes misty. Jungkook saves you from asking the reason behind his watery eyes, as he himself tells you. 

"I thought you wouldn't believe me and that you'd find me disgusting and unappealing," he confesses. "I didn't know what to do to make you see that I'm the same Jungkook. The way you were scared, scared me." 

You run your fingers through his hair, knowing it has a soothing effect on him as well. "When I saw you transforming, I was scared but it was because I never even imagined that it was you. I thought it was some scary supernatural being that wanted to harm me."

"And you're not disgusted to know that I am, in a way, partially a wolf?" 

The way his voice sounds so small and unsure pulls at your heartstrings and urges you to comfort him. Placing a soft peck of reassurance, you smile against his lips. "Nah, you're still my cute little baby."

Jungkook looks surprised as he looks at you with wide eyes, not having expected that action from you. You giggle seeing his expression. He's your cute little baby, indeed.

His expression turns into that of shyness and a blush appears on his cheeks. "Could you do that again?" 

You laugh and the very next moment kiss him again. Your lips mould against his as you kiss him gently, silently apologising for scaring him like that. You kiss him with passion in hopes that it eases his anxiety and makes him feel reassured that you still love him the same. 

Jungkook kisses you with a softness that is desperate and needy at the same time. He needs it to fully relax into the fact that you're here, right in front of him and that you haven't left him. He needs to let it sink that you're kissing him with the same amount of love that you always have, that him being a werewolf, doesn't come in the way of your love. 

However, when he feels that reassurance hit him, he pulls you impossibly closer and his kissing starts getting harder. It holds the same amount of desperation, as before but this time Jungkook holds onto you tightly as if he's scared to ever let go of you, again. He feels like he needs to apologise to you, needs to love you better than he did before and most importantly needs to express how incredibly grateful he is for you sticking with him.

He could literally worship you right now. 

A brief fleeting thought occurs in his mind as to what were to happen if he were to get down on his knees and make you scream his name in the middle of this forest? 

That thought is a tell-tale sign that he should pull away, because with each passing second that your lips remain on his', the thought becomes a little less fleeting. 

With a groan that has your heartbeat accelerating, Jungkook pulls away and smiles at you. "We should head back." 

Your breathing had just started to get faster, your chest had just started to heave and the wave of excitement that makes goosebumps rise all over your skin, had just started to take over. The prospect of having Jungkook in a way where he doesn't have to hide himself makes you curious and crave that intimacy.

"We could head back a little later, we have time until it gets dark," you suggest lightly with a shrug. 

Jungkook looks confused at your suggestion. "What do you want to do staying here?"

"I don't know, maybe we could kiss a little more," you suggest with a shy smile on your face. 

"While that does sound nice, I do not think it's a good idea." 

"Why not?"

"Because I might get greedy and end up wanting to do unspeakable things to you," Jungkook reasons, trying to be the voice of logic.

 "Who says I do not want to do that already?" 

There are a million questions in Jungkook's mind. Would you be okay with it, when you were so scared moments ago? Would you be comfortable with it? Would you regret it later?

You get on your tiptoes and press a small kiss on his cheek, having noticed the concern on his face. "I want you, trust me."

"Are you sure?"

You nod with a reassuring smile.

The glint that takes over his eyes, makes a shiver run down your spine. It's a look you have seen plenty of times, one that you're extremely familiar with.

However, you sense he's still hesitant. Taking a step closer, you make the first move and kiss him hard. Starting it slow be damned, you want him to know the desire you hold for him. 

Anything that might have been holding Jungkook back, disappears. He holds you by your waist and pulls you closer. Groaning into your mouth, he bites into your lower lip before capturing it passionately between his lips to soothe any sting the action might have caused. 

Your desire increases and you gently prod his lips with your tongue, eagerly waiting for him to let you in. As soon as he does, you could not be more delighted, something which is made extremely obvious by how excitedly your tongue greets Jungkook's. 

There's no battle of dominance. Rather, both of your tongues entangle together as if dancing to their favourite song.

Your body starts to feel hot and you keep feeling the need to have him closer. When you part your mouth from his, it's not because you've run out of air, it's because you need to feel more of him. 

An emotion which Jungkook replicates. 

"You'd need support," his breathy voice reaches your ears. 

"That's what the tree is for," you reply in a tone that's quite similar to that of his. 

"The surface is rough, it'd scratch your back," he reminds you of the consequences of having your back against the tree trunk when you'll be naked later.

"Well you could always offer me your blazer," you counter, with a sultry smile. 

Fuck. 

Having been caught in the middle of turning into a wolf, he had to stop right away. Unfortunately, the fur doesn't disappear immediately. At that point in time, his main priority was not scaring you any further. Hence, Jungkook had grabbed the nearest thing he could find, to put on. Anything that could cover the fur until it disappears. Which so happened to be the black blazer he's now wearing.  

The image that comes to his mind as a result of your words, is one which makes him come to the conclusion that the thoughtless choice of the blazer, is one of the best decisions he has ever made. After you, of course. But if he has to put the blazer to good use, he needs to get you naked first. 

Kissing your neck with newfound vigour, he holds you firmly against himself as his hands start to wander behind your back to find the zipper that serves as the key to get you out of this dress.

Having found it, he wastes no time dragging the chain down and sliding your dress halfway down your shoulders. 

You whimper when the cold air hits your skin, taking you by surprise. He kisses, nibbles and leaves his mark on the newly exposed skin and curses to himself when he realises that you're not wearing a bra. The new discovery entices him to slide the dress even lower so that he can get his mouth on your soft supple breasts. 

His entire mouth dries up when your nipples are revealed and he realises how hard they have been all this while, as if just as eager to get sucked as he is to suck them. Wasting no time he puts your left breast in his mouth while playing with the right one with his other hand. 

"Fuck," you throw your head back at the new sensation and grab a hold of his hair. It's when he sucks a little harshly, that you look at him with eyes filled with pleasure. You notice the deep frown on his face while he plays with your tits and it does something unspeakable to you, it makes you want to skip everything and just have him inside you.

He gives equal amounts of attention to the other breast and then when he feels satisfied with the work of art he's left, he decides it is time to wander lower. 

He slides the dress off further, now exposing your stomach. His palm gently runs across the area and he leaves light kisses on his wake. The sensation makes you sigh for how in contrast they are with his previous demonstrations, which were rather rough and desperate. While these touches are soft and sensual, with a hint of teasing to them. 

Finally sliding the dress all the way down, he looks at you with anticipation in his eyes, "Step out of it." 

You oblige and step out of the dress that now pools around at your feet.  

"The underwear too," Jungkook asks, dying to see you naked. 

You smile a little at his words, understanding that he's getting impatient and you thrive in the thrill of what's to come. You hook your fingers around the band of your underwear and tug it down, getting rid of it. 

Jungkook's pupils dilate seeing every inch of your skin exposed to his eyes.

He experienced the most vulnerable part of him getting exposed and it made him want to crawl inside a hole and never come out. Anything was better than you being scared of him, being disgusted with him or feeling betrayed by him. But here you are, willingly standing naked, right in the middle of a dense forest with eyes filled with want for him. 

The wolf in him feels a deep fire ignite at the sight of you not shying away even though theoretically, anyone could step in at any moment and see the both of you in this compromising position. It assures him that you're not ashamed of him. It makes the beast in him feel accepted. 

Although he would like to have you naked like this a little longer, he reminds himself that he needs to put the blazer on you, for you'd need support for the sinful things he wishes to do to you and truth be told, he cannot hold himself back any longer. 

Removing the piece of garment, he drapes it on you. Taking a few steps back he curses when he takes in the full view of you in nothing but just a black blazer. His blazer. 

You're a tad bit disappointed when Jungkook closes the distance, for you were enjoying the sight of his glistening chest but your disappointment is gone when you realise this allows you to run your hands all over his body. 

You and Jungkook feel each other like you both are starved of touch and as if it's the air you need to survive. It's also while Jungkook feels every inch of your skin that he slowly and gradually, corners you against the tree, finally having you the way he wants to. 

He litters kisses in a straight line from your neck to your navel and then gets down on his knees. The new position has his face right in front of your sex.

"Please do something," you plead, shivering when his exhale hits your core. 

He merely hums, enjoying the sweet smell of your arousal that hits his senses. Using the tip of his thumbs, he gently parts your folds for your wetness to be revealed. "You smell so sweet, sweetheart." 

"Do you want me to have a taste?" He continues, now locking eyes with you. A soft whimper from you is all he needs to put his mouth on your nether region. 

He doesn't start gently, oh no, he straight away starts drinking all you have to offer as if he's been thirsty for ages. His tongue runs messily all over your insides, sometimes messaging your hole, other times stimulating the bundle of nerves that have you wildly arching your body with pleasure. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant repeatedly, the forest being the only audience of your sinful words. As much as you'd like to drag it out and take it slow, you don't think you'd be able to hold yourself from orgasming any longer. It feels like it's only been a minute since Jungkook started eating you out and you're already about to fall over the edge. But can you really be blamed when Jungkook has gone completely wild with his tongue down there? "Shit, I'm about to come."

Jungkook slows down. 

His tongue all of a sudden, turns gentle, languidly cleaning up your arousal but somehow still holding the same amount of passion as before. 

You're not complaining but the switch of pace has you craving more, because you oh so desperately, need to cum. "I need to cum, Jungkook."

"Not yet, sweetheart, I need your cunt on my mouth for a little longer," he whispers, his words which practically vibrate against your folds. 

The words are on the tip of your tongue as to how he could have just started slow and gradually built the pace, rather than snatching away your high right when you were about to hit it. However, you keep the words to yourself when you realise just how much Jungkook is enjoying softly lapping at your essence as if it's his favourite treat. It also doesn't take your body long to forget the stolen high and to start enjoying the slow pace. This time instead of wild loud moans, soft gasps and broken whimpers leave your lips. 

You know Jungkook is teasing you, he likes doing that. He likes giving you pleasure in a way, which with time gets a little too much and which has you begging for relief of any sort. It's not like you cannot cum like this, you can. After all, Jungkook is a little too good with his mouth but if you let go this way, the pleasure will be one that will hit you in the form of gentle waves. However, what you crave is a wave that hits you at once like a tsunami. 

Hence, you beg. "Don't be gentle. Make me cum. Hard."

Your words are desperate, a plea to Jungkook for you will lose your mind if he doesn't let you have your relief. And that's all Jungkook wanted, for you to beg in a helpless voice. Feeling satisfied, he sucks on your clit harshly. To add to your pleasure he inserts two fingers and pumps them in and out at a slow pace until you get adjusted. Once you seem to have no difficulty with his fingers, he starts a ruthless pace, one which has you seeing stars. 

While he fingers you with one hand, his other shimmies up and slides underneath the blazer to play with your tits. He squeezes your tits to his heart's content and pinches your nipples until your eyes roll back. 

Your head thrashes wildly and you grab a fistful of his hair. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Jungkook has a bit of a dirty mouth. One which you clearly enjoy. And there's so much he wishes to say right now. He wants to tell you how sweet your cunt tastes, how tightly it's clamped around his fingers and what a sight you're from down here. But he cannot afford to not have his mouth on you, while you cum. That'd be such a waste. And if he were to go by the way your hole clenches around his fingers like a fucking vice, you're close. It only motivates him to increase his pace. 

That paired with the stimulation he provides on your clit and your tits, has your whole body heating up and the very next moment it all explodes. You cry out loudly, and your grip on his hair tightens even more as the wave hits you like a tsunami, making you lose all control over your senses. All you feel is the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

Jungkook smiles against your cunt at the way you fall apart, thinking to himself, you for sure would have lost your balance had it not been for the tree you lean against.

He helps you ride your high and once you seem to have caught your breath, he places a few more kitten-like kisses before getting up on his feet. 

You feel weak but you cannot not kiss him with everything that you have got in you. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips when you're greeted with your essence and it urges you to have a taste of him.

Your hands find their way to his belt and you attempt to unbuckle it. Jungkook chuckles against your mouth, noticing how your hurried actions, instead of getting the job done quickly, lead to you messily fumbling with the belt. Taking matters into his own hands, he stops kissing you for a brief moment to get rid of the belt himself. 

"Fuck, thank you," that's all you say before roughly tugging his trousers down.

Your mouth practically salivates at the sight of his hard length that begs to be free from the confinement of his boxers. The dark wet patch against the piece of clothing serves as an invitation for you.

Thankfully, you do not have to put your patience to the test to get rid of his boxers. It's done swiftly without much struggle causing his length to spring out. You immediately have your hands on him. Collecting the precum from the tip, you rub it all over his length. 

Jungkook groans right next to your ears, his breathing accelerates the more you run your hands on his cock. "Yes, baby, just like that."

You feel his tip leak more beads of precum and it adds to your desire of having a taste of him. "I need to have you in my mouth."

Jungkook stops you before you can get down on your knees. His lust-filled eyes, spark with a shred of amusement. "You will hurt your knees, baby."

It's only then that you are reminded of the fact that you're in a forest and that you indeed will end up hurting your knees if you were to get down on them on the forest floor. 

"Then fuck me," you say with a gruff, a tad bit annoyed that you cannot have what you want, at this very moment.

"That I will," Jungkook chuckles darkly. Saying so, he presses his length against your folds. "Do you know how wet your pussy is?"

"Why don't you do something about it?" You mewl softly, enticing him to just fuck you rough and hard. 

"Oh don't worry, darling, you won't be able to walk after this," he promises.

It isn't just his words that affect you, it's also the way he's looking at you. You have noticed there's something more carnal about him today and if you're not wrong it has everything to do with him not having to hide anymore. It's him expressing his need without having to hold anything back, now that he knows he's accepted and loved wholly. 

"I'd like that very much." The sultry, seductive tone is intentional for you know that Jungkook plans on teasing you. But you cannot wait any further. You need to have him inside you now and you only wish you can make him as impatient as you. However, Jungkook seems to have understood what you're trying to do. It's not to say that your tactic doesn't work, it does. He starts rubbing himself against you faster but he's not willing to give in, just yet. 

You make another attempt by pinching his nipples. In the various occasions that you've been intimate with Jungkook, you've learnt that those two buds are perhaps the most sensitive spot for him.

It's once again proved right when he lets out a low growl and the next thing you know he's pushing his cock inside you. "You couldn't wait a bit longer, could you?" 

"When it comes to you, I do have a habit of becoming impatient," your voice comes out hoarse, the pleasure from having his length inside you clouding your senses. You just feel so full. 

Jungkook hums in approval and once you give him the green signal, he builds up a slow and steady pace. 

"Fuck baby, your cunt is so tight," the words are whispered against your neck, as you feel Jungkook gradually set up a brutal speed. 

You tug on his hair harshly to get a grip on reality as your vision starts to blur. You whimper, wail, scream and cry his name repeatedly, all of which fuels Jungkook to go faster and deeper. 

He notices the lightheaded look in your eyes and swiftly hooks his arms around your thighs to lift you. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and secure your position. 

The effects of your previous orgasm hasn't completely faded yet and from this angle, his dick hits the golden spot which makes your high approach faster than you had anticipated. 

"Jungkook, I'm gonna cum," the words are broken and breathless. 

The new information earns a few slow determined thrusts from him, before he speeds up again. His forehead touches yours and you feel the sweat that has built up on his skin. You notice the way he is so focused on your pleasure, on every moan that escapes your lips and every expression on your face. 

It all gets to the point where you can't hold yourself back anymore. Throwing your head back, you reach another high and hold to any part of Jungkook that you can to hold onto your sanity. 

"Baby your pussy just got so tight," he speaks in a hushed voice, the fucked out look in your eyes and the essence that he feels on his cock, as an after-effect of your orgasm, now making him chase his high.

"Cum inside me, please," you say in a weak voice, your cunt still convulsing. 

"You know I'm a werewolf right?" He queries, with a dark look in his eyes. Receiving a nod from you, he speaks again, "Do you know what that makes you?"

"My mate."

That's the only warning you get before he's pounding into you like his life depends on it. The sound of skin slapping makes you dizzy and you feel so desperate to feel him spill inside you. Thankfully, it takes a few more thrusts before he paints your insides with ropes of thick cum. 

You both stay in that position, foreheads resting against each other as you breathe heavily, feeling totally spent. 

"That was something," you mumble when you seem to have regained enough energy to speak.

"That was intense," Jungkook agrees, removing the strands of hair that had fallen on your face.

"I enjoyed it though," you smile up at him, finding it kind of silly how you ended up getting railed against a tree from running for your life. 

As he slowly feels himself coming down from his high, he feels the disbelief resurface again. Did he just fuck you after you found out he's a werewolf? And you just let him and confessed to enjoying it? And are you still here looking up at him with those bright eyes? 

"You're unreal," he sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling your sweet scent. 

"You're the one who's a werewolf and you are telling me, I am unreal?" Your brows quirk up as you tease him.

"I–It's just unbelievable that you're still here–"

"So a good round of fucking wasn't enough for you to believe that I'm here?" Your words earn a small chuckle from him which soon turns into a warm smile when you place a kiss on his jaw. "There's never gonna be a good enough reason for me to stop loving you, Jungkook."

"I promise I'll never hide anything from you again," his nose gently rubs against yours.

"I hope you don't ever feel the need to," you hum. "But for now, you need to do me a favour and carry me on your back."

"Told you, you won't be able to walk after," he winks, with a proud look. 

"That and the fact that I got a cramp due to all that running."

His worry is immediate. "You got a cramp? Why didn't you tell me? Shit, did I hurt you while having sex?"

"Nope, it didn't cause much trouble," you shake your head to ease him. It's the truth, the cramp doesn't seem to have had much of an affect. It's only when you try to stretch you legs, that it causes the slightest of sting. 

"Let's head back, I'll massage the area for you, that should help," he comments as he quickly starts collecting the clothes that you two have dropped on the ground without a care. 

Once he has his trousers back in place and has collected everything that is needed, he asks you to hold the clothes. Then swiftly, in the blink of an eye, he is picking you up in bridal style. A surprised gasp escapes your lips but it soon turns into giggles when you realise that Jungkook's upper half is still unclothed and you get exclusive access to it on your way back. 

"Walk slow, take as much time you need," you quip, your hands slowly and dramatically inching closer to his chest. 

He rolls his eyes, pretending to be done with your silly behaviour when in reality, it's one of the things that he so dearly loves about you. 

He knows you tend to get sleepy after sex and the only reason you're being this talkative and playful, when your body is probably trying to doze off, is because you want him to be at ease. You know him a little too well and know that in your silence, he will probably overthink again. Its not just your words and touchy hands but it's also this unspoken thoughtful gesture, that makes Jungkook finally relax and let go of the notion that you'll regret or change your views about him.

Oh, how dearly he loves you. 

Bless whoever had started the rumour about the documentary. Had it not been for them, he would not have you in his arms right now, making him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Gosh, he cannot wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hi coveyyy !! i hope you’re doing good and i was wondering if you could maybe do a hc for leo valdez x daughter of zeus if you havent already ?

⋆⭒˚.⋆ leo valdez x daughter of zeus! reader hcs

content: leo valdez x daughter of zeus! reader hcs warning: language bc i can't be stop lmao author's note: trying something new...idk if i like or not, you guys tell me!! really...tell me. bc ill go back and change them all to match (bc id rather DIE A TERRIBLE AND ATROCIOUS DEATH than have them all be different) or i can change this one back to normal bullet points. also i realized i hadn't written for my manz in so long, which is CRIMINAL. get ready for the leo flood to come your way (hopefully. please stay away writers block im begging rn)

✧ there is nothing on this planet that leo loves more than a woman that could actually kill him lmao-

✧ so no one was all that surprised when he fell for you

✧ im mean, jason and thalia weren't exactly happy...but they also weren't surprised

✧ leo likes asking you to help him weld things

✧ he thinks it's funny when you use your finger with some electricity to weld whatever he wants together

✧ avid debates are held over who get's the nickname 'sparky'

✧ "MY DAD LITTERALY INVENT STATIC ELECTRCITY???"

✧ "YEAH? AND WHAT TO DO USE TO START A FIRE? A SPARK. TRY AGAIN BITCH."

✧ "what did you just call me?"

✧ "mi novia, mi amor, mi princessa, mi media naranja-"

✧ "andddddddd?"

✧ cue huge sigh

✧ "and sparky. juST FOR TODAY THO DON'T GET TOO EXCITED-"

✧ you like to ensure that leo doesn't overheat by sending soft breezes through bunker nine while he works

✧ and while it's very unlikely that the boy who can light himself on fire will overheat, he appreciate the gesture more than you know

✧ being the good country boy he is, he's a big carrie underwood fan

✧ like, unironically (he just like me fr)

✧ thinks its the funniest thing to serenade you with 'blown away'

✧ OH and 'hurricane' by bridgit mendler

✧ in turn, you never let him go a day without hearing 'girl on fire' by alicia keys

✧ or 'fireball' from mr. 305 himself

✧ likes to throw himself from high distances, knowing you'll aways catch him with a breeze or fly up and save him all supergirl sytle

✧ "ladder? nah, i've got my girl, we're good!"

✧ "climb down? i've got a short cut. and her names yn."

✧ you get stressed out and also reprimand him for this

✧ but he thinks you look hotter when you're yelling at him so he doesn't mind much (or really hear your words as his eyes slowly drift away from yours and downwards)

✧ loves you nearly as much as birds love yo ass

✧ key word is nearly - there is no competition, those little shits are winning

✧ it's giving disney princess the way the crowd you, you sometimes gasping at the rapid pace in which hummingbirds tell you gossip

✧ which you then repeat back to leo, who is gasping right along side you

✧ leo even built you a bird feeder, putting it up outside cabin one while you stood there, arms crossed and totally watching him work and not just starting at the way his muscles clenched or how good his lips look tugged between his teeth-

✧ what were we talking about?? i think i got distracted by something

✧ jason loves it to, the both of you sitting criss cross outside the cabin early in the morning, listen to the birds as they spill the tea while you and jason drink coffee and eat donuts, jason's book long forgotten

✧ ALSO leo easily won thalia over, presenting the daughter of zeus with all the silver jewelry that turns into weapons she could want

✧ that girl was instantly switching sides, happy to rave with you about how sweet leo was and how well he treats her- er, you! how well he treats you!

✧ jason was a little harder but after an in depth talk and totally zero threats against leo's life, they came to a peaceful agreement

✧ bro gave up on appeasing your father and instead prays to hera for a long and happy marriage with you and that zeus never finds peace again

✧ which instantly made him a fan favorite from hera

✧ he knows when you really want a kiss or when your mad at him because you legit just get super staticky

✧ like his hair starts stand on end and he's like 'either i pissed her off or she needs a kiss. either way, i got to seek my girl out.'

✧ both end with you kiss leo, so it doesn't really matter lmao

✧ in fact, most interactions with leo devolve into make out sessions

✧ and, really, who are you to complain??

✧ sparky + (other kind of) sparky = true love

✧ yall that's math you can't argue with it i dunno what to tell you

[genshinluvr]

The Unexpected

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!reader

Summary: You never really think much about how long you'll be on Teyvat. You're not from the men's universe and everyone knows that. It's not possible for you to be gifted a vision from Celestia, or at least that's what you and the men assumed. Who knew that getting kidnapped overnight and disappearing without a trace ends up with you having a vision.

Notes: Honestly, I have no idea what to call the fanfic, so I just called it what it is. This fic focuses more on the what-if the reader gets a vision despite not being from the Genshin men's universe. I will not be posting a 5k+ fic next week since I'm starting something else next week. I will be posting a mini fic for the Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!reader series next week. Hopefully, once the school year is done and it's summer, I will have more ideas and not deal with writer's block. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, but it's nothing major or traumatic

Word Count: 7.9k

How did it turn out like this? A few weeks ago, you and the twenty-five men were laughing and joking around with each other. Now here you are, trapped in a dungeon beneath the tunnel somewhere you’re not sure of. Your head is hurting, and your limbs feel numb. You’re tired, and you want to go home. You want to get out of this place, but you can’t because there’s no easy way for you to escape. You press your back against the concrete walls before sliding down, sitting on the ground, and tilting your head back.

You close your eyes and gulp. “Please, let me out. I’m begging,” you whisper.

A few weeks ago…

You watch the men spar on the second island in the abode. In the first round, they weren’t allowed to use their visions. It was hand-to-hand combat for the first round. Then in the second round, they were able to use their weapons because it was more focused on weapons. 

Now, it’s the third round, and everyone is using their vision. While it’s everyone that is sparring with each other, you’re sitting off to the side because, well, you don’t possess a weapon or vision to join them in their little sparring competition. But you weren’t the only person that’s sitting on the sidelines.

You turn to look at Baizhu. “Are you sure you wanted to keep me company? You usually join the sparring competition with the others,” you said, hugging your legs to your chest.

Baizhu smiles and nods. “Of course, I wanted to keep you company. It’s not fair for you to sit on the sidelines while everyone is competing with each other,” says Baizhu.

“It’s also because Doctor Baizhu’s health has been depleting,” Changsheng interjects, rising from Baizhu’s shoulders. “His patient the day before took a toll on him, and now he’s… recuperating.” 

Your eyes widen, and you look at Baizhu worriedly. “Baizhu, you told me you weren’t going to do that anymore,” you whisper, frowning at the green-haired man beside you. “I understand you’re trying to get a better understanding of your patient’s illness, but you’re putting your health and life at risk.” You frowned. 

“Hey!” Aether hollers from afar.

You and Baizhu turn to look at the field where the others are standing. They’re all lined up beside each other, their weapons at their sides while staring at you and Baizhu. Oh, shit. Did you miss out on something while talking to Baizhu and Changsheng? You and Baizhu get up from your seats and walk over to where the men are standing.

You stop in front of the large group with Baizhu by your side. “Did something happen?” You ask, looking at Aether worriedly.

Itto nods with a pout on his face. “Yeah! You weren’t paying attention to us while we were sparring with each other!” Itto whines, stomping his foot on the ground while faking a sniffle. 

Itto walks toward you and tackles you into a hug, smushing your face against his sweaty chest while he continues to lament over the lack of your attention. You groan with disgust when you feel your cheeks pressed up against Itto’s sweaty chest. You gently push him away and wipe your cheek with the collar of your shirt.

Diluc looks at you curiously while he crosses his arms over his bare chest. “[Y/N], the men and I were having a discussion, and we wanted to ask you something,” says Diluc, brushing his bangs away from his sweaty forehead.

You look at Diluc quizzically. “Wait, you guys were having a group discussion? I didn’t see you guys huddle in a circle and have a chat with each other,” you say, propping your hands on your hip.

Kaeya chuckles, shaking his head. “That is because you were distracted by talking with Baizhu over to the side,” Kaeya replies, giving you a look while smirking at you.

You clear your throat before diverting the conversation. “Anyway! What is the question you wanted to ask me?” 

“What elements do you like the most? Hydro? Pyro? Geo? Electro? Dendro? Anemo? Or Cryo?” asks Heizou, pointing at each little group.

You look at the men in front of you, finally realizing they’re lined up by elements, and each element has a respective “leader” of the group. Then there’s Kaeya and Cyno, standing there by themselves with no one behind them. Then there’s Dainsleif and the four Harbingers, standing off to the side.

“Do you guys not have…” you trail off. “You know what? Never mind! I think that will be the conversation for next time, right?”

Pantalone smiles at you and nods. “That is correct, little butterfly. We won’t be revealing anything yet until the future,” Pantalone says cryptically. 

Your gaze slowly wanders over to Dottore, who’s staring at you contently. When the two of you make eye contact (it’s a little bit hard to tell because of his mask), the corners of Dottore’s lips curve up while he tilts his head to the side. You pucker your lips and point at Dottore, opening your mouth to say something before closing your mouth.

Dottore raises his eyebrows at you beneath his mask. “Oh? Did you want to say something?” Dottore asks, crossing his hands behind his back.

“I could’ve sworn you had a vision. Either it’s Cryo, or it’s Hydro….” you trial off, tapping your chin with your index finger.

Capitano chuckles and mutters something under his breath. “That’s something for you to interpret. Later, we will reveal our visions, or what we possess,” Capitano interjects.

You sigh before turning to look at the others, who have been patiently waiting for you to answer Heizou’s pressing question. What was the question again? Ah! Right. Which element do you prefer out of the seven? Or would it be eight since Dainsleif doesn’t have a vision, and his powers look really pretty but also intimidating at the same time? 

“Elements that I prefer, huh?” You murmur, gradually spacing off.

Xiao sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are we really going to make [Y/N] choose between the seven elements?” Xiao asks.

Venti giggles. “Well, they don’t have to answer the question! Most of us are curious to see what they would choose,” Venti says, shrugging his shoulders with a smile.

Truth be told, you don’t really have a favorite element out of the seven (eight?) elements. You find the elements useful in their own ways, even if they’re paired with another element. That, and you don’t want the men to start bickering with each other the minute you choose a specific element that isn’t theirs. 

You tuck your hands into your shorts pockets and shrug. “I don’t have a favorite element,” you reply. “They’re all useful in many ways, and I don’t want to choose between the seven.”

“I have a better question! If you were to be blessed with a vision, what would it be and why?” Childe asks, looking at you curiously and eagerly.

You press your lips into a thin line. If you were to receive a vision, what would it be and why? That’s a good question. What vision would you get? Even if you were to choose what vision you wanted, you know it’s not up to you to choose. It’s up to Celesita to choose. You remembered how Noelle wanted an anemo vision, but instead, she was given a geo vision and was incredibly disappointed about it. 

You shrug for the umpteenth time today. “I don’t know! Even if I have a specific vision in mind, it’s not up to me to make that decision, is it not?” You ask.

Zhongli nods. “That is correct. The Archons aren’t the ones that give out visions. It is Celestia that gives out visions to those who are deemed worthy in their eyes,” Zhongli replies. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding. So, it is confirmed. Even though you know this information already, you’re curious to see how many people there are that got the type of visions they didn’t want. Noelle didn’t want the kind of vision she was gifted by Celestia, Ningguang tried to sell hers, and Keqing tried to destroy her vision. 

“Hypothetically, if you could choose your vision, what would it be?” Albedo asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You shake your head. “I have no preference in what vision I want to receive from Celestia. I believe all elements are useful and a gift regardless. But the issue is I’m not from Teyvat. Therefore, it’s not possible for me to receive a vision.” 

Thoma points at Aether with his thumb. “Neither are Aether and Lumine, but they’re able to wield the seven elements,” Thoma comments.

You make a so-so gesture. “While Lumine and Aether are able to wield the seven elements, they do not possess a vision like all of you. Plus, they’re from your universe. I’m not remotely from your universe. I’m an outsider that sees everything that went down in Teyvat,” you reply, visibly cringing. 

Dear, Archons. When you said that out loud, it sort of made you think twice about saying it. You have been in Teyvat for over a year now. Yet, you haven’t run into anyone that is associated with Celestia. Well, unless you count the Archons, but most of them have severed their ties with Celestia. 

Wouldn’t your presence alone and knowledge about the entirety of Teyvat make you a suspicious person? You’re surprised to see that no one closely associated with Celestia has tried to reach out to you yet. Should you be on edge? 

Dainsleif raises his eyebrows at you. “What’s with that look on your face?” asks Dainsleif.

You give Dainsleif a fake smile. “Oh, nothing! I’m just wondering if I would even be worthy of a vision if I were to be from Teyvat,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile.

“You’re worthy of everything. Vision or not, you will always be worthy in our eyes,” Ayato says, giving you a closed-eye smile.

Scaramouche snorts. “That sounds like something a parent would say to their child—” Scaramouche lets out a grunt when Aether nudges him in the stomach with a small glare.

Kazuha sighs and walks toward you, brushing the stray hair away from your face and tucking them behind your ears. “You never really answered our question about what vision you think you would get if you were to be from our world,” says Kazuha, slowly pulling his hand away from your face and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I think any element is fine with me, really. I don’t have a specific vision I want to get. I think it’d be cool if I could wield all of the elements like Aether and Lumine despite being from another universe,” you shrug.

Cyno chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t think [Y/N] is going to be picking what kind of vision they want if we continue to ask them about it. Either they don’t have a preference, or they do have an element in mind but are dodging the question to save our feelings,” Cyno comments.

You open your mouth to reply, but Tighnari pats your head and gives you a smile. “That’s enough questioning [Y/N] for today. Besides, what does it mean if [Y/N] were to get a vision?” Tighnari asks, turning to look at the men around you.

Kaveh raises his eyebrows. “Uh, care to rephrase that?” asks Kaveh, propping his hands on his hips.

Al Haitham rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure Tighnari is wondering if [Y/N], someone who doesn’t belong in our universe, were to get a vision, would it mean that [Y/N] is now part of our universe? If so, what would happen to their existence in their world?” Al Haitham interjects. 

Yeah, what would happen if you were to get a vision or become part of the men’s world? Would your existence in your universe be erased, or would you turn into a fictional character in your world? Many questions are running through your mind, and it’s starting to make you feel dizzy and get a headache. 

Pierro sighs. “We can’t question something we don’t have the answers to. Now, we either finish the sparring session, or we finish it here for today,” says Pierro.

Gorou runs his hands through his hair and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Let’s finish it here for today.” 

Since that day, you can’t help but feel strange. It’s almost like something or someone is constantly looming over your shoulders, watching your every move. Everything was normal, but at the same time, it didn’t feel as normal as it should be. If that makes sense. You’re sprawled out on the grass in Mondstadt, lying in the tree’s shade. The cool breeze almost lulls you to sleep when a twig snapping from a distance wakes you up.

You sit up and rub your eye, looking at your surroundings. You didn’t see anyone or anything that stepped on a twig. Maybe it was an animal that stepped on the twig, causing it to snap while you were falling asleep under the tree’s shade in Mondstadt. You did notice that there weren’t any signs of life around you— animals, you mean. No signs of birds, squirrels, and boars.

You get up from the ground and dust the dirt and grass off your clothes. The teapot is a few feet from where you’re sitting, and you don’t want to walk toward it. Not when you feel like there are eyes staring at the back of your head, burning holes into your skull if it could. You grab an apple, gripping it hard. There’s no weapon you can use, so you might as well use an apple as self-defense if anything happens.

You clear your throat. “Xiao?” You call out.

Xiao appears before you, his arms over his chest. “You called?” Xiao raises his eyebrows at you.

A wave of relief washes over you. You wrap your arms around his and lean against him while he wraps his arms around your waist. “Can you escort me back to the abode? I feel like someone’s watching me, and I don’t feel safe,” you whisper into his ears.

Xiao tightens his grip around your waist and nods. “Of course,” Xiao murmurs.

You and Xiao walk to the Serenitea Pot, watching your surroundings while trying not to make it obvious. You tighten your grip around Xiao’s arm the closer you two are approaching the floating teapot. The feeling of someone staring holes into the back of your head remains as you and Xiao enter the teapot.

Once your and Xiao step into the teapot, you sigh in relief and relax in his arms. Xiao continues to have an iron grip around your waist while walking to the estate. You feel safe in the abode, knowing there are twenty-five men that are ready to protect you no matter what. No one can get to you, no matter who or what they are. Xiao closes the door to the estate and locks the door, one arm remaining around your waist.

“Oh! So that’s where you went, Xiao!” Itto’s voice booms throughout the estate, startling you and Xiao.

Xiao reluctantly releases you from his grip, ignoring Itto’s comment. You give Xiao a smile and give him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. Xiao looks away, his eyes focusing on the wooden floor while his cheeks slowly turn pink. 

“You disappeared so suddenly! I was starting to worry that Itto did something to offend you,” Heizou comments, getting off the couch.

Aether smiles at you and bounces over to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders while resting his chin on your head. “How was Mondstadt? You said you were going to relax under the tree in Mondstadt, and you were gone for about half an hour,” says Aether, twirling your hair around his index finger.

Venti’s eyes light up. “Oh! Were you relaxing in Windrise? The weather is nice today! I heard through the grapevines that the breeze is nice today,” Venti says, smiling widely while rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

You nod in agreement. “The weather and breeze felt nice in Mondstadt today! Although my time in Mondstadt was cut short, unfortunately,” you say, leaning against Aether.

“Oh? And how was your time in Mondstadt cut short?” asks Kaeya, sitting on the armrest while gazing at you curiously.

That’s your cue to tell the men what happened in Mondstadt. You were having a lovely day in Mondstadt, relaxing in the shade underneath a tree. You nearly dozed off to sleep when the peaceful, quiet air was rudely interrupted by the sound of twigs snapping. At first, you wanted to assume that it was probably a boar or a squirrel that stepped on the twig.

To your dismay, there weren’t any animals around you to confirm that the twig snapping was from an animal stepping on it while scurrying around. You went on about how you wanted to walk to the Serenitea pot after your alone time was interrupted. Still, the feeling of something or someone staring holes into the back of your head made you rethink your decision. You didn’t want to risk anything, so you called for Xiao to help you, and thus the Adeptus shows up almost immediately when you call out his name.

“Oh, so that’s why Xiao disappeared so suddenly!” Thoma murmurs, stroking his chin.

Zhongli places his hand on your shoulder and gives them a squeeze. “You did the right thing of calling out to Xiao when you knew something felt off. We’re glad that both you and Xiao were able to return to the abode without any issues,” says Zhongli.

“Yeah, I am too. The only thing that bothers me is that I’m not sure if it’s something or someone that’s watching my every move. It’s unsettling not knowing who or what it is,” you shudder.

Dainsleif approaches you and tucks your hair behind your ears. “You should get some rest in your room,” Dainsleif murmurs.

You nod and give them a small smile before walking upstairs to your room. “Wake me up when dinner’s ready! I’m not sure how long I’ll be asleep,” you announce from over your shoulders.

“Don’t worry, we will!” Gorou replies as you slowly make your way up the stairs.

The minute you walk into your room, you shut the door behind you, plop on your bed, and close your eyes. Whatever was watching your every move, you really hoped that it was a curious hilichurl or a mitachurl because you were not ready to face the person or thing that was watching you. You soon fall into a dreamless sleep, tossing and turning in your bed.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the men are gathered in the living room, trying to figure out the strange feeling you had while you were in Mondstadt before calling out for Xiao. This was the first time you mentioned feeling eyes staring at the back of your head while you were alone in Mondstadt.

Diluc looks at the Adeptus, his arms over his chest. “When you arrived at Mondstadt after [Y/N] called your name, did you see anything out of the ordinary?” Diluc asks, raising his eyebrows at the Yaksha.

Xiao shakes his head in response. Xiao was focused on you and only you. He didn’t have time to closely survey his and your surrounding. The minute you told Xiao that you wanted him to escort you back to the abode, Xiao was set on taking you back to the estate without a second thought. 

Childe hums and taps on his chin. “Xiao wasn’t gone for a long time. It was, perhaps, less than five minutes.” Childe interjects.

“That means he most likely didn’t see the person or thing that was staring at [Y/N],” Tighnari sighs, his ears flattening on his head with dismay.

Al Haitham closes his book and gets up from his seat. “We’ll need to keep track of [Y/N]’s whereabouts when they leave the abode alone. We can’t risk anything happening to them if they were to leave by themselves,” Al Haitham says.

Kaveh rolls his eyes and shoots a glare in Al Haitham’s direction. “Wow, Al Haitham! Where did you get that idea from!? Oh, yeah! Me!” Kaveh hisses, propping his hands on his hips with a huff of breath.

Al Haitham’s about to interject when the sound of your bedroom door opening interrupts him. You walk down the stairs, eyes bleary from your short nap. Your nap lasted less than an hour, and you feel like you were run over by a sumpter beast after getting smacked in the face by a mitachurl.

“Why are you awake so early? We thought you were going to take a nap,” Ayato murmurs, watching you collapse on the small sofa while rubbing your eyes.

You grumble before resting the back of your head on the armrest. “I was, but I kept tossing and turning in my sleep,” you reply.

Gorou perks up and looks at you shyly. “Do you want someone to cuddle with? If so, I volunteer to snuggle with you while you take a nap!” Gorou offers, raising his hand.

You hum and reach forward, gesturing for Gorou to come closer. Gorou smiles widely and sprints over in your direction. You pull Gorou down on the sofa next to you and latch yourself onto his body, snaking your arms around his waist and snuggling up against the Inazuman man. Gorou wraps both his arms around you, kissing the side of your head while ignoring the muttering from the men.

You peek at the men, your right cheek smushed against Gorou’s chest. “Anyway, what were you guys talking about before I came downstairs?” You ask.

“In Mondstadt, did you happen to see the person or thing that was making you feel uncomfortable?” Cyno asks, sitting on the ottoman before you and Gorou.

You press your lips into a thin line and shake your head. “Sadly, I didn’t see the person or thing that was staring at the back of my head. I was tempted to search for the person or creature that was staring at me, but in all honesty, I was scared to do it. Hence, why I called out to Xiao,” you reply, gesturing toward Xiao’s direction. 

Albedo hums, tossing his sketchpad on the coffee table. “That’s unfortunate but understandable. You had a bad feeling, and the first thing you did was call Xiao because out of all of us, Xiao will be by your side in a heartbeat when you call his name,” Albedo murmurs.

Kazuha looks at the clock on the wall. It’s about two hours before dinner, and yet you’re still awake, cuddling Gorou on the sofa. Kazuha crosses his arms over his chest and smiles at you. “Since you’re awake, do you want to have dinner now?” Kazuha asks.

You hum to yourself before sitting up, trying to see if you’re hungry or not. Your stomach doesn’t feel full, nor does it feel empty. It’s a feeling you can’t describe— how does one explain the feeling of hunger? 

You purse your lips. “I’m not hungry, but I’m not full either…” you trail off, stroking your chin. “But I can eat! Let’s have dinner now!” You nod.

Baizhu approaches you and stands before you, helping you get up from the couch while smiling. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind me asking, are you still having problems with sleeping? If so, I can get you melatonin, and you can take it before going to bed,” Baizhu offers.

You nod and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, please! I haven’t been able to sleep as much as I needed, and it’s so frustrating. I kept tossing and turning in my bed, and before I knew it, it was almost five in the morning, and Thoma was already awake!” You say, pressing your forehead against Baizhu’s chest. 

Scaramouche pops up beside you and props his arm on your shoulders. “Make sure the melatonin is strong because look at the bags under their eyes,” Scaramouche snorts, poking your undereye.

You wince and smack Scaramouche’s hand away from your face with a scowl. Baizhu chuckles and shakes his head before walking off. You turn to look at Scaramouche, who’s smirking down at you. You stick your tongue out at him before walking off, leaving a cackling Scaramouche behind. 

Not long later, you and the men are gathered around the dining table, eating and chatting with each other. Dinner is lively, and everyone is cracking jokes, telling stories, and enjoying each other’s company. Who knew that dinner was going to be the last time the men saw you before your sudden disappearance overnight. 

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear the gated door open. The cloaked being steps into the room— would it even be stepping when they’re hovering above the ground? You stumble up from the ground and press yourself against the wall, staring at the cloaked figure warily. 

“[Y/N], we have heard so much about you since your appearance in Teyvat,” says the cloaked figure.

You gulp. “We? Who is we exactly?” You demand, clenching your hands into fists. “Where am I, and why did you bring me here?”

The cloaked figure continues to hover a few feet away from you, not responding to your question. The last thing you remembered after having dinner with the men was taking your melatonin before going to bed. Everyone afterward was a blur, and now here you are, somewhere you’re not familiar with and in the presence of the cloaked figure. 

“You may not know who you are, but we know who you are,” says the cloaked figure.

You stare at the cloaked being blankly, blinking at it. “I don’t think you need to say that since it’s blatantly obvious, and you’re kind of repeating yourself….” you trail off, squinting at the cloaked figure. 

You’re just glad that you’re not dealing with the Abyss Order, or else it would’ve been a completely different story. The cloaked figure hums before hovering in your direction, causing you to press your back against the wall and stick your leg out in front of you to keep the distance. 

“Have you ever wondered what it's like for your kind to be blessed by the Celestial Gods?” it asks, leaning down to your height while remaining hovered before you.

You weren’t sure how to respond. Yes, you’re curious, but at the same time, you don’t want to give the cloaked being the answer it wants to hear. You’re a little terrified to respond because of the short distance between the two of you.

You cross your arms over your chest and look away. “Even if I was curious, why do you want to know? I don’t even know who you are or what you are,” you reply, squeezing your eyes shut.

The cloaked being moves away from you and chuckles. Now that you think about it, the way it sounds when it laughs and speaks reminds you of when you were a child. You would talk and scream into an electric fan, making you sound robotic. That’s what it sounds like. It sounds robotic, but you know the being beneath the cloak isn’t an android because you don’t think there are any robotic beings in Teyvat. Unless there is one, you and everyone else are unaware of its existence. 

“Answer the question,” the cloaked being hisses, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at it.

You yank your head out from the being’s grasp and duck your head, eyes remaining shut. You hear something fall to the ground, which you assume is the cloak that the being was once wearing. You crack your eyes open out of curiosity, and when you look up, you nearly do a double-take.

The being standing in front of you continues to hover. Its body is pure white. It did not look human due to the eight eyes on one face and the lack of a mouth. It doesn’t even have hair on its head, but it does have long nails that resemble the talons of a hawk. The creature before you blink at you, tilting its head to the side. Seeing eight eyes focusing on you and blinking at you makes you feel disturbed and creeped out.

“You remind me of those biblically accurate angels, but only fewer eyes, and there aren’t any feathers,” you mutter to yourself. “What are you? Clearly, you’re not an angel.”

The being cackles, its mouth open, and its abnormally long tongue slithers out of its mouth. You stare at it, horrified yet morbidly intrigued. The tongue and the way the mouth opens remind you of Venmon.

“I, and many others, are what you mortals call us the Celestial Gods,” it says.

“You? Celestial Gods? I’m sorry, but I imagined beings that look…. Human,” you trailed off, swallowing the lump in your throat.

The ‘Celestial God’ gazes at you and crosses its arms over its chest. “Perhaps you need a refresher? Your dear Archons have many forms, do they not? If they can have many forms of themselves, then are Celestial Gods not allowed to have more than one form as well?” If it had eyebrows, it would be raising its eyebrows at you. 

Crap. How could you let that slip from your mind so easily? It has a point. “Well, you’re not wrong about that,” you mutter. 

“Now, answer my question, [Y/N]. Have you ever wondered if you, someone not of this universe, could be blessed by the Celestial Gods?” asks the Celestial God.

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no! I have not, actually! Being blessed by the Celestial God as someone that’s not from this universe doesn’t seem to be fair for those who are from your universe,” you say, clearing your throat. 

Meanwhile, the men are scrambling around Teyvat, searching for you. It has been days since your disappearance, and the men hit countless dead ends. You weren’t in Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru, or Inazuma. Heck, they even tried Dragonspine and the Chasm, but there weren’t any traces of your presence. 

“How did they disappear overnight without a trace?” Dottore growls, grabbing his hair at the roots, and yanks at it.

The men are going crazy, searching every part of Teyvat they can think of, only to come out empty-handed. You’re nowhere to be found, and citizens from all over Teyvat have never seen you step into the regions. Ningguang, Jean, the Raiden Shogun, and Nahida have never seen you in their respective regions. No one has seen you, nor have they got a clue about where you could possibly be. Countless sleepless nights and dead ends are catching up to everyone, and it’s driving them up the walls.

Pantalone lets out an exasperated sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “This is getting us nowhere. We have searched every nook and cranny for them, and there’s no trace of their presence in these regions,” Pantalone grumbles, clenching his jaws.

“It’s not possible that they could’ve gotten up in the middle of the night and left the abode without us knowing, is it?” Gorou asks nervously, his ears twitching at every little sound around him and the men.

Pierro shakes his head. “It’s not possible because the doors and windows are all locked. If they were to leave the abode alone, we would’ve known. Their shoes are still at the abode as well,” Pierro replies, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What if they were, I don’t know, imprisoned somewhere? We’ve checked every place on Teyvayt besides other citizens’ homes and prisons,” Aether says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Capitano lets out an amused huff, almost sounding like laughter. “It’s a possibility, but I wouldn’t guarantee it because many citizens in Teyvat we have come across said they didn’t see [Y/N]. Even those who work at night have not seen [Y/N]. That includes the authorities,” Capitano interjects.

Where are you exactly, and are you safe? That’s all they want to know is whether you’re safe or not. Their first priority is finding you and making sure you’re safe. But since there are almost zero traces of your presence (and maybe existence), there’s no way for them to know your situation.

Your body is aching, you’re tired, and you can barely stand for yourself. You collapse to the ground before the Celestial God, sweat dripping down your face while your body shakes with every breath you take. Your head is hurting, and your ears are ringing. You can taste blood in your mouth as you gulp for air, swallowing your saliva.

The Celestial God laughs, hovering toward your pitiful form, stopping before you. “Do you think you can take on a Celestial God unprepared and untrained in combat?” asks the Celestial God.

“I never said I could. You came charging at me out of nowhere,” you hissed, spitting at the ground and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You grab the sword nearby and stab it into the cement ground, using the sword as leverage to help you off the ground. Dear Archons, your legs feel so weak. They’re trembling the longer you stand up. You just want to go home and be in the arms of your boyfriends, but instead, you’re fighting a Celestial God for your freedom. 

You can’t help but find it amusing. You didn’t expect to be put on some trial against a Celestial God for your freedom until you were thrust into it. You went to bed, safe and sound one night after dinner with the men, and then you woke up to being in the arms of a cloaked being, taken somewhere you don’t even know. It was weird, and it was sudden.

Before you could scream, thrash around in the being’s arms, and look at your surroundings to see where it was taking you, the cloaked being covers your face with its hands and knocks you out. And that is how you end up in some strange dungeon imprisonment of some sort. You’re not sure where exactly, but you know it’ll be impossible for people to find you.

“Now, are you going to release me from imprisonment, or do we have to do this that hard way?” You ask, gripping the handle of the sword so tightly that your nails are digging into the palm of your hands.

The Celestial God tilts its head to the side. “Imprisonment? You see this as imprisonment; we Celestial Gods see it as a test of worthiness,” says the Celestial God.

You scoff. “Well, that’s a stupid name. I’m not saying this to tick you off, but it really is a stupid name. You might want to reconsider the name of the test,” you say. 

The Celestial God crosses its arm over its chest. “Well, what do you think we should rename it then?” 

You let out a ‘pfft’ in response and shrug your shoulders. This is getting you nowhere, and you want to get out of this dungeon of a room and return to the abode and be in the arms of your boyfriends, not help rename some stupid trial name for Celestial Gods. Quite frankly, the thing in front of you doesn’t even look like a Celestial God. 

“Are you really a Celestial God, or are you lying to intimidate me?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at the being before you. “The way you act and the way you speak doesn’t seem like something a Celestial God would do.”

“Oh? And have you met a Celestial God to make that kind of judgment?” asks the once-cloaked being.

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I have not, but I know a Celestial God wouldn’t have a stupid name for a trial to see if I’m worthy of a vision. Listen, I’m going to cut to the chase because I want to get out of here, but I’m not worthy of a vision because I’m not from this universe. And even if I were to be from Teyvat, I wouldn’t get a vision because people with certain visions have similar backgrounds, struggles, stories, whatever you call it.” You sigh, tossing the sword to the concrete.

The Celestial God cocks its head to the side, almost reminding you of an owl. It was almost disturbing, especially with the eight eyes staring into your soul. It’s like the Celestial God is telling you to continue what you were saying before throwing the sword to the ground out of exhaustion and frustration.

“You know what? Here,” you crawl over to the sword and grab it from the ground before handing the Celestial God the sword, “why don’t you finish me off, and then we can go our separate ways!” You clap your hands.

The being before you stare at the sword in its hands and then looks at you wordlessly. You plop on the ground and point at your neck, signaling for the Celestial God to end you right then and there. You can fight back, yes, but against a Celestial God? Someone who doesn’t have a vision, who has never picked up a weapon in their entire life— well, that’s a lie, you have picked up a weapon, and the men have trained you to use various weapons. Still, either way, you can’t go up against a higher being. 

What’s the point of fighting the Celestial God? The being continues to stare at you before its body starts shaking with laughter. You stare at the being before rolling off the ground with a sigh. Fine, if it’s not willing to finish you off, you might as well do it yourself, right? You’re not actually going to do it. You’re bluffing. You just want to get out and go home. 

You squat and stare at the thing in front of you. It was still distracted. You would think the Celestial God can focus on many things at once with those eight eyes of theirs, but it’s too busy cackling at you. You count to three in your head, and once you reach the number three, you sprint toward the Celestial God and tackle it to the ground, catching it off guard. You grab the nearest rock on the ground and begin using it as a weapon instead of the one the Celestial God dropped on the floor after you (somehow) successfully tackled it to the ground. 

Before you can smash a rock over the Celestial being’s head, it blasts you off of it, sending you flying across the room. You slide on your back and quickly roll over to get on your feet. You run toward the sword on the ground, grab it and try slashing at the God. The Celestial God grabs the blade and snaps it in half, leaving you dumbfounded. 

You bring the broken sword up to your face. “Huh. Well, shit,” you mutter. You look at the Celestial God and purse your lips, watching it crush the blade into little pieces and sprinkle the pieces on the ground like sprinkles on a cupcake. 

The Celestial God looks at you, the eight eyes blinking one at a time. Dear Archons, it’s so disturbing. Without thinking, you chuck the broken sword at the Celestial God’s face before dashing out of the dungeon. You curse to yourself and smack your forehead. The damn door to the dungeon was open the entire time, and you didn’t think once to run out of that? The Celestial God is at your tail, reaching forward to grab you.

You burst through another door, looking back to see how far the being is close to getting you. That was the first mistake you made because the minute you saw how close that thing was, you didn’t check to see where you were going, and now you’re free-falling from the sky. It turns out you were in Celestia the entire time— if it weren’t so obvious since you were in the presence of the Celestial God. It technically kidnapped you, but it doesn’t matter now that you’re plunging to Teyvat. 

On Teyvat, Venti stands up and squints at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun. “What’s that falling from the sky?” Venti asks.

Scaramouche yawns and stretches his arms. “I hope it’s a stupid Celestial God,” Scaramouche comments, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk stretching across his face.

Heizou stares at the dot in the sky that is getting seemingly bigger. “That’s not actually a Celestial God falling, is it?” asks Heizou, refusing to take his eyes off it.

Dainsleif’s eyes widened once the falling dot got bigger and bigger. Dainsleif sprints toward the dot, opening a portal before him and jumping through it. 

“I don’t think now is the time to be showing off his powers,” Childe mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The portal opens in the air, and Dainsleif jumps out from the celestial portal. He tackles the dot in the air and opens another portal before disappearing with the dot.

Kaeya props his hands on his hips. “I don’t think it’s a Celestial God that’s falling from the sky. If it were to be a Celestial God, I think Dainsleif would be sitting and watching with a bowl of popcorn in his hands,” says Kaeya.

“Why am I getting the feeling of deja vu?” Thoma mutters, stroking his chin.

A large portal opens up before the twenty-four men, and Dainsleif steps out from the portal with you in his arms. Your head is resting against Dainsleif’s chest, and you’re clutching something against your chest. Dainsleif helps you stand, keeping his arms around your waist while you slump forward.

“I hate Celestial Gods,” you whisper.

Scaramouche lets out a burst of boisterous laughter. “Welcome to the club,” Scaramouche comments.

Diluc tries to peek at your hands. “What do you have there?” asks Diluc, walking up to you and Dainsleif.

Dainslief sighs and tilts his head forward. “I believe the questions that should be asked is whether [Y/N] is okay or not and how they end up in this situation,” Dainsleif comments, frowning at the redhead. 

You wave one hand around while clutching the object with the other. “I’m fine, but after coming face-to-face with the Celestial God, I don’t think I’ll ever recover,” you mutter, shuddering. “Anyway, to answer the other part of Dainsleif’s curiosity, I was in a dungeon on Celestia! Crazy, right? I was put through some trial to see if I was worthy of a vision, and yeah.” You nod, tapping your fingers on the object in your hand.

The twenty-five men’s eyes fall on your hand. You clear your throat and hold up the object for everyone to see.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but apparently, it is because I now officially have a vision!” You squeak, giving them an uncertain smile. 

“How is that possible?” Al Haitham mutters, grabbing your vision from your hands and inspecting it closely.

Kaveh scoffs and narrows his eyes at Al Haitham. “What? Did you think [Y/N] wasn’t worthy of having a vision, Al Haitham?” Kaveh demands.

Al Haitham slowly looks up from the vision and stares at Kaveh blankly. Kaveh props his hands on his hips, waiting for the Scribe to answer him. Al Haitham rolls his eyes and hands the vision back to you. You stare at the vision in your hands, unsure of what else to say. What were you supposed to do, really? Thank Celestia for granting you a vision? You’re not from any of the seven regions in Teyvat, and yet here you are with your very own vision that is in the shape of something you have never seen before. It’s evident that people from different parts of Teyvat have a specific shape of vision for the respective regions they’re from (or from the area when and where they received it), but yours is different.

“What even is that shape?” Itto asks, grabbing the vision from your hands to inspect it.

You shrug and lean against Dainsleif, closing your eyes. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know the answers, unfortunately. But I’m surprised that none of you have said anything about the element of the vision,” you reply, cracking one eye open.

“I think they could’ve given you the same element as mine. Mine is cooler than whatever they gave you,” you hear one man huff.

You hear a strained cough. “Excuse me? What do you mean your element is cooler than mine?”

“Let’s be honest here. That element is useless, and I don’t think it’ll be useful to [Y/N].” 

“Hey! Don’t be mean! Every element is useful! There are no useless elements out there!” You see one of the men nudge the other with a glare.

You press your lips into a thin line before grabbing the vision from Itto’s hands. “Let’s go back to the abode and discuss this. We shouldn’t be doing this out in the open when that creepy Celestial God can snatch me up at any moment,” you say, pocketing your vision.

“It snatched you up overnight at the abode while everyone was sleeping.” Pierro comments, raising his eyebrows at you.

You grab Dainsleif’s wrist and pull him toward the floating teapot while the men follow along. “Right, I forgot about that.” You laugh sheepishly. “While we talk about my newly obtained vision, let’s talk about installing surveillance in the abode, just in case it happens again.” 

You can’t help but feel the glass vision in your pocket. Why did you get a vision, and what’s the point of you getting a vision when you’re not of this universe? Everyone in Teyvat didn’t need to fight a Celestial God to obtain their vision. They obtained it in many ways, or it didn’t have a master, and the person somehow activated it. Why did you have to come face-to-face with a Celestial being to obtain one?

Many questions are swirling in your head, and before you know it, you’re sitting on the couch in the abode with your vision on the coffee table in front of you. Seeing the vision itself almost feels like a mockery. You can’t throw it away, or else you’ll lose your ambition and possible critical memories despite having it for less than an hour.

“Looks like I’m stuck with you forever,” you mutter.

The door to the abode closes. You look up to see the others walking over to where you’re sitting, all eyes glued to your vision on the table. 

“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” Tighnari asks, sitting across from you, grabbing the vision and holding it in the air to see if it is real. 

You puff your cheeks and exhale through your nostrils. “Start from the beginning?” You tap on your chin.

Cyno nods. “Yes, start from the beginning. After you tell us what went down while you were in the presence of the Celestial God, we’ll try to figure out what led to you getting a vision,” Cyno explains.

You sit back, press your back against the couch and close your eyes. Nothing special happened to you while you were in Celestia other than being forcibly taken from your bedroom and put in a dungeon. This turn of events was not only sudden, but it was unexpected. Now that you have a vision, what exactly does that mean for you? What will happen to your existence in your universe? Will it be erased, or will you become part of the fictional world you loved?

Note: I was going to title this story "Prisoner of Celestia," but it didn't feel right, and the overall story isn't focused on that. So I went with the current title instead. Also, I didn't specify which vision the reader got because I want you all to choose what element it is! Next week, there will be a new series, but it's for Honkai Star Rail instead of Genshin. Not sure how that's going to turn out, but I've had this idea in my head for a few days now, and I want to get it out of my head and post it soon. Therefore, there will be maybe two updates (the new series and mini-fic for the isekai'd!reader series) next week. We'll see how that goes. To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[mmavverickk]

I “love” the betrayal fics where the entire camp suddenly believes that this new guy has actually accomplished all of Percy’s achievements and Percy lied to all of them, like camp didn’t literally witness half of those accomplishments and like Percy actually outright says “I did X.” Percy says almost nothing about what he does, Camp hears about most of his achievements from others

oh, we've all seen those fics. new guy shows up, he's actually Percy's half-brother. Annabeth suddenly only has eyes for him, everyone suddenly hates Percy because new guy does too, Poseidon may or may not disown Percy, and then Percy runs away and joins Chaos.

it's been copied and pasted thousands of times in hundreds of ways.

not a single one of those fics has Percy's departure from Camp happen realistically. it's not even impossible to grow resentment between Percy and the campers, which is what these writers seem to want. but the way they go about it? a cookie cutter asshole pied piper OC who steals the spotlight and turns Camp into a hostile mob of angry demigods? Unrealistic. 0/10 trope, literally 50% of why i will not read fanfictions with OCs.

have some realistic ways of turning Camp against Percy or vice versa:

- Percy could be captured. The area he was taken from is drenched in blood. no one could survive that, Percy's gotta be dead, so Camp doesn't look for him. after [x amount of time] of captivity and probably torture, Percy gives up hoping for a rescue. he discovers darker uses for his powers, frees himself, and doesn't go back to camp, because they abandoned him. opens the road for angst and emotion and tearful reunions etc.

- Camp is attacked. maybe it was a lazy beach day. no one is ready, only a few campers have their weapons. they're outnumbered and maybe surrounded and definitely out of options. Percy won't let anyone die. two ways to go about this one:

A) percy destroys the attackers single-handedly, using every tool in his arsenal, every fucked up thing he can think of to make sure his people survive. he controls poison and blood and drowns monsters and, i don't know, freezes them into ice cubes or boils their skin or stops their hearts. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves. or B) the armed campers fight back, but percy isn't fighting. he's busy keeping the injured from dying. how? he's controlling their blood. he won't let it deviate from its normal path. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves.

- [x god] sends Percy on a quest. but, surprise! it's not a quest! it's a trick, to lead Percy to his death! Percy survives, but can't go back or he'll be revealing he's still alive before he figures out why [x god] tried to have him killed and if there's anyone else behind it. fun conspiracy vibes.

- percy adopts a new pet, except this time it's a drakon. "Percy," Chiron says very patiently and not-at-all exasperated, "you can't keep a drakon as a pet. it will eat your friends and we don't have the space." Percy flips authority the bird and strikes out with his new pet to find somewhere they can settle. kinda cracky but written right it could be funny.

- Percy pisses Zeus off. not surprising. Zeus wants to kill Percy. not surprising. for his own good, Chiron sends Percy on a roadtrip/changes his name and sends him to mexico along with multiple witness protection agents/quest to keep Percy out of sight for a while to allow the king of olympus time to cool down, because we like when percy is alive and also the war poseidon would wage at his death would kill us all.

are all of them 100% realistic? no, but neither is Percy leaving Camp. Hera had to literally kidnap him and erase his memory to keep him away. the point is that they're different and plausible, and not the same exact trope repeated over and over again until i can tell you the plot of hundreds of betrayal works in one sentence.

[silverskye13]

how do u write fighting or do u have any tips? i have an idea for a fanfic not mcyt related but im terrified ill write the fight scene poorly as it makes up a majority of the fic.

Fighting and fight scene tips! I have a couple I guess! The tricky thing is fight scenes are really subjective. It's hard to give a "and here's all the puzzle pieces you need for a good one" kinda answer. But I can at least tell you the stuff I think about while I'm writing.

You know the drill, writing tips under the cut:

1. Research

I feel like I put this on every tip list. Research the thing you're doing. The Internet is your greatest friend and confidante. Look up YouTube videos of fighting competitions. Look up the weapons your characters are using. Figure out how many bullets are in the magazine for the gun type your character is using. Research how far you have to be to survive that explosion. Figure out if the cool sword breaker was actually useful in combat and why. Get a reasonable measure for how much blood your blorbo can lose before they pass out. This will help you paint a clear picture for yourself about what needs to happen, and why. Your readers don't necessarily have to have that clear picture, but the more you, the writer, know, the more likely you are to write a consistent, understandable narrative.

2. Character POV is important!

What does your character even know about fighting anyway? <- the most important question to ask of your POV character. This establishes what your character can tell your audience about what's going on. Has your character never fought before? Are they familiar with the weapons used? Do they know counters for fighting styles? Do they even know how to throw a punch? Do they have a high pain tolerance? These things will inform how the character informs us, the readers, about what's going on. Generally speaking, lack of consistency is what makes fight scenes frustrating, in my opinion. Sitting there and going "hey wait, how did that teenager know better battle tactics than the general they're fighting?" Takes you out of the moment and ruins whatever cool thing that teenager just did. Going "hold on, what do you mean the sniper didn't realize he was out of bullets?" Does the same thing. Keeping the characters consistent stops your readers from questioning the validity of the scene.

3. What can your readers see, and is it the same as what the characters see?

Similar to above, but a little more meta. Fight scenes are often played for drama. You're putting the character in peril, and that peril is for a reason: to make the audience have an emotional response. Can the readers see an ambush because of your 3rd person omniscient perspective, but the characters can't? Is that a good thing? Will it ruin the shock and surprise of the ambush, or will it induce dread and up the stakes? The enemy has a poisoned sword. Is this obvious to the audience in a way that isn't for the character? This is playing with suspense in a fight, adding and subtracting stakes for the readers, and it needs to be balanced against what the characters know.

I'm mentioning this as a thing because revealing your hand to the audience can be a really interesting way to add suspense, but if the audience feels like a character should've been able to see it coming [ex. How come the assassin didn't anticipate someone poisoning a blade during a fight?] it ruins the immersion of the scene, and makes it feel like you the author are shoving the characters in a direction. Generally speaking if the readers can see the hand of the author moving, it breaks immersion.

[Notably, I don't write in 3rd person omniscient. I write in 3rd person limited. I don't often have a chance or reason to reveal information to the audience that the main character doesn't know, because the audience is observing the world through that character.]

4. What are the guys in the back doing?

Everyone knows the Main Character has to fight the Antagonist at some point, but normally the MC isn't alone. They have friends and allies, or their pet dog. They have a supporting cast, and that supporting cast wants to help the main character. So... where are they exactly? A pitfall I see in Big Final Fight Scenes pretty often is, the MC brings an army, or their crew, or their super friends or whoever, and yet somehow, they end up fighting the bad guy alone, and the writer just... Doesn't address the other people in the room. And you the reader are left going, "Wait, why is no one intervening?" This gets especially immersion breaking when the main character inevitably starts losing their fight [because drama, few fights are easy]. Our MC might die! Why is no one trying to run even a basic distraction on the Antag? This isn't to say you have to have your supporting cast get involved in the final fight -- sometimes you need that solo showdown! But you do have to have a convincing reason to keep the rest of the cast away. If we the readers are under the impression there's six other people in the room just standing there, because you the writer forgot they were there, it gets kinda awkward.

5. Zoom in! Feel it. Zoom out! See it.

Okay so, you now know: Basic information on how your character(s) fight, what your POV character(s) know, what the readers can see (either the same or different from your characters), and you know where everyone is and what they're doing. You have your god's eye view ready. How do you show it?

Zoom in, zoom out.

There is a balance to fight scenes, in about the same way there is a balance to an art piece. There is a foreground, middle ground, and background. Each have importance, each need focus. The foreground is what is happening immediately in front of your POV character, it's their thoughts, what their weapon feels like, any wounds they've taken. It's bullet time, and observations, and right in their face. The middle ground is the surrounding 5-10ft. It's the people beside them, it's what's just past their opponent. It's the rest of the room, or the sound just out of view, or the object just out of reach. The background is everything past that. It's distant explosions. It's their friend getting wounded. It's an archer on the next rooftop.

How much of that you want your audience to see, how you want to vary that, depends on what you as an author view as important. If you want to focus more on the character, their struggle, their opponent, you will write most of the fight scene in the foreground. Focus on what the character feels, the sensation of movement, the pain, fear, exhilaration. Focus on the words they're saying [or not saying]. Focus on what they know, what they're telling the audience. If you want to highlight the battle, how the main character is working in their surroundings, you will focus on the middle ground. This is what the character looks like from an outside perspective, how they fight against their opponent. This is them trying to reach an item, or shove their opponent into something. This is running, and kicking, and trying to figure out if your friend is still by your side. This is seeing your comrade go down out of the corner of your eye, or admiring someone's fighting style, or screaming orders at someone. The background is anything further away, a distant problem that is putting on pressure. A ticking time bomb. This is the building catching fire, the lightning in the storm overhead. This is superman fighting off the alien army while your MC is trying to kill the general. This is you reminding the audience the rest of the world hasn't stopped turning while the MC has been doing MC things.

Generally speaking, I like to move through all three spaces several times during a fight scene? The main character is hurting and holding onto their sword, and breathing is hard. The antag is pressing the advantage, trying to back them through the space. But they can't lose too much ground, because their friend is fighting the second antag over there, and they're bleeding from a fresh cut. They have to win, they have to escape, because the sound outside says the building is groaning on its foundation-- and the main character stumbles as the building rocks. [And I've just moved through all three types of ground, giving the audience a clear view of what's happening].

You don't have to bounce reliably through the space. Not showing the background for a long time means you can surprise your audience with a new hero or villain swooping in! Or leave us in suspense about that magic ritual we're supposed to be stopping. Not showing a middle ground side character implies your MC is so distracted they won't know their friend is hurt until it's too late -- etc.

If it helps, I like to imagine there's a little invisible camera panning around, taking dramatic shots of everything, like you're making a movie, and writing accordingly.

Uhm!! Hopefully that's helpful?

Some broader quick tips:

Fight scenes are very fast, and generally happen over a period of a few minutes. That time will feel significantly longer because it's jammed packed with Stuff Happening, but the fact remains, it's only a few minutes. Keeping the timing in mind helps you figure out if backup can arrive to help, or if it's reasonable for someone to miss the fight happening, etc,

On that note, if it's a battle specifically, battles [especially medieval ones] are short. They don't last all day, unless they're a siege, and even then, sieges are long periods of digging in and waiting with short clashes peppered around.

This might just be me, but try not to overuse metaphors? We get it. The swordsmen look like they're dancing. But not everything they do is graceful or dancer-y. Sometimes you can just say "and he punched him in the face." Unless your writing style is naturally super flowery, in which case, do continue. Consistency is key.

Do some basic research on wounds. Suspension of disbelief can only carry so far, and pain is genuinely debilitating. Also, yes coughing up blood is a very dramatic "the character is dying" cue, but in real life it only happens on very bad lung/throat wounds. If what you're writing is Super Realistic, maybe don't throw that in there.

Write confusion with care. You might not want your audience to know what's going on all the time, but if your audience genuinely can't figure out what's going on, why something is happening, or who it's happening to, you will eventually lose your immersion.

Write comedy with care. If your fight is non-serious, or if your character in a serious fight doesn't normally take things seriously, jokes are allowed to happen. But sometimes if you don't take it seriously enough, you will chop the knees off your drama. Maybe save some of the jokes for after the life-threatening battle is over.

I think! That's everything I can think of just now! I hope it helps :'D

[raplinesmoon]

Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader)

pairing: Hoseok x afab!reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: the mafia, mentions minor character death, cursing, smoking, alcohol use, use of weapons, strained relationships with parents, mental health issues, mentions threats against people Hoseok cares about, brief, non-graphic depiction of blood and injuries, breakups, makeups, a cameo by one Xu Minghao, Hoseok and OC are both very closed off and bad at communicating, Hoseok is lowkey an asshole for most of this, happy-ish ending, smut warnings: making out, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teeny bit of cockwarming

a/n: Hello it is me, profusely apologising because there is no reason this should have taken this long to write, other than I had the worst case of writer's block ever, but I missed Hoseok and I needed to see this through. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I hope you all enjoy &lt;3

listen to the playlist here!

The rain slams down on the pavement, rendering the soles of Hoseok’s shoes even more sodden than they’d previously been. A cold, sticky feeling settles across his spine, and he heaves for breath, wishing he could just stop and take a break. But he can’t. He has to keep moving. Resisting the urge to shiver and warm himself up, he rounds the corner.

The day had started off normal enough. Hoseok had been assigned patrol duty for the day by Namjoon, a task he was more than familiar with. After the collapse of the Kim empire and his father’s death, Namjoon had returned to clean up the family business. And he was doing a damn good job at it, training the younger ones like Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in how to run a business.

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok? 

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people who weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night. 

Yet sometimes, the downpour got the best of Hoseok. He hadn’t been expecting the Choi cronies to spot him, much less for them to be armed. Luckily they were as thick-skulled as Hoseok expected them to be, and he’d been able to craft a quick escape. For the time being.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon, Yoongi, or their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father. 

Looking around, he falters. The buildings around him loom ominously, stretching much taller than he’s used to, the lights from the highest floors creating artificial stars against the cloudy backdrop of the sky. Hoseok gathers that he must be in the swanky part of town. He scoffs, knowing from personal experience the rich were no better than the mobs and gangs they pretended to look down upon, licking at their bootstraps whenever the necessity arose.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind ran with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of. 

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across from him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

The doors of the elevator screech shut, the sound doing nothing to drown out the pounding of your heart. The soft tiny plops of raindrops echo on the grey floor, falling from Hoseok’s hair as he freezes at the sound of your voice.

You suck in a breath, lungs desperately searching for air, unable to squeak out anything beyond his name. Brows furrowing, you check him for any signs of injury, relieved when you find nothing but his blank eyes blinking back at you. You didn’t have to ask him where he’d been tonight. Both of you already knew.

It infuriates you that even after everything, after all this time, he still manages to have this effect on you. You hate how you can’t take your eyes off the lean curve of his neck, or the tiny mole above his heart-shaped smile.

A chill runs down your spine, despite having never stepped foot out in the rain. 

“Why are you…” your throat feels heavy, struggling to get the words out, to ask him why he ended up here of all places. Especially when you made it clear you never wanted to see him again after the last time.

“Choi’s men were tailing me, I had to get them off my back,” he barks, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he looks into your weary eyes, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he adds on, more gently this time. “If I’d have known, I would never…”

Never what? Never managed to infiltrate the one place you thought you could be free of him, from the past the two of you shared?

Your shoulders slump against the panel, and you realize you’d never pressed the button to go up, too consumed by his presence. Finally managing to muster up the focus, you turn away, hearing the elevator creak to life.

“You’re always sorry. How can I be sure that this time, you mean it?”

Hoseok is annoyed. First of all, this damn elevator is taking nearly too long to go anywhere, and he longs for escape from this metallic box that’s imprisoning you both. Second of all, your words cut at him, sharper than any knife and hotter than any bullet any of Choi’s men could have sent his way tonight.

As far as he remembers, you’d been the one to end it. You’d been the one to walk away from your arrangement.

He doesn’t know why he grits his teeth, biting down to combat the throbbing pain in his temples. You were supposed to be gone, your goodbye delivered in the same way the designer bags and packages piled up at your doorstep - neat, polished, shallow, the ties that had brought you together unraveling before they’d even had a chance to be joined properly. 

Unfinished business. That’s what you were. And Hoseok hated unfinished business. But somehow, he’d never managed to hate you. You’d never given him a fair chance.

. . .

Hoseok shrugged the wife beater over his head with a grunt, immediately turning around to see if he’d woken up his sleeping companion, but she remained unfazed, her soft snores echoing into the pillow. 

He lets his eyes linger over her body appreciatively one last time before he slips on his leather jacket and is out the door. For a brief moment, his hand twitches, yearning to reach into his pocket and call Namjoon for old times’ sake, detailing every last detail of his lascivious romp. The thought is abandoned immediately, Hoseok’s mood souring at the thought of his former best friend. Namjoon had no trouble leaving all of them behind, so why should he even bother? Instead, he reaches into his other pocket, his frenzied emotions finally calming down when he pulls out the lighter. Ducking under an awning, he checks his surroundings for anything suspicious before affirming that the coast is clear, lighting up and taking a drag. The smoke drifts away on the nighttime breeze, and Hoseok follows, roaming the city streets. 

It’s lonely at this hour, not another soul in sight, but Hoseok prefers it that way. Gone are the days when he and his friends would run through the city, stealing cars and honking horns at everyone for fun. Now, shit had hit the fan big time, and there was no room for fun anymore. With Namjoon gone, Hoseok, along with Seokjin and Yoongi, had been sucked into the tangled web of duties he’d left behind, each stepping up in their own way.

Holding a gun in his hands for the first time had been a sobering experience for Hoseok. It rattled him that if he pressed down on the trigger, so many things could change in a split second. He’d heard the higher-ups in the organization rave with glee about how much fun it was putting the city’s other families in line, Namjoon’s father at the head of them. And for a brief moment, Hoseok understood what it was that Namjoon had run away from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed off about it though. 

His lips turn up in a smile when he takes in the graffiti on the building in front of him, thinking back to his younger, more rebellious self, before faltering. Someone else was there. 

He wonders if you’re cold, the thin satin gown doing nothing to protect you from the chill, and he wants to laugh at the contrast between his well-worn leather jacket and the jewels dripping from your ears. They must cost a few thousands of dollars, money he’d never had in his pocket. His eyes scan around for someone, anyone – a boyfriend, or a husband maybe. But you’re alone.

Nobility has never been Hoseok’s forte - Namjoon and Seokjin had always been the womanizers, and poor Yoongi had been in love with the same woman for over ten years, but he clears his throat, prompting you to turn around, eyes widening at your company.

If he catches a glimpse of unshed tears in your eyes, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Kids these days, huh? They’ll do anything to cause a little chaos,” he quips, a sinking feeling building up in his chest when you don’t respond.

“Ma’am,” he grapples with whether he should ask for your name, “do you need me to walk you home?”

“Did you read it?” your voice is quieter than he expects, yet he draws closer, wanting to hear more of it. Coming to stand beside you, he takes in the captivating features of your face, made all the more alluring by the shadows cast across them.

Following your gaze, he looks at the mural on the wall. A giant wave, Hosukai-style, crashing into a set of words. “After me, the flood,” your voice whispers, and Hoseok feels a rush of emotion at the way you say it, his mind circling back to everything that had happened in the past few years - the dark cloud that had settled over all their lives with Namjoon leaving, the city’s underbelly coming to life, crawling out of the woodwork. 

“I have to go,” you interrupt him, heels clacking against the pavement, before Hoseok’s gaze turns sharply on you, the desperation in his eyes begging you not to go. Come sunrise, he’d be forced back into the same grim routine, but right now, it felt nice, standing here with you.

“Will you be okay getting home alone?” he asks, grappling for any chance to prolong the moment.

“My driver is around the corner,” you tell him. “Thank you for keeping me company, –”

“Hoseok,” he fills you in, his chest aching with the desire to ask for your own name, but you’re already gone.

. . .

Hoseok wakes up the next morning to the rattling of the blinds, the sunlight causing him to immediately shut his eyes and bite back a groan. There was only one person who’d have access to his apartment at this hour – and exploit it.

“Eomma?” he rasps, burrowing his head further into the sheets. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget Hoseok-ah? Hurry up and get dressed, everyone’s waiting! You have five minutes.”

Forget what? His mother’s fussing continues in the background as she leafs through his closet, no doubt trying to find him a suitable outfit amongst the many pairs of ripped denim and oversized shirts he prefers on a day-to-day basis. Hoseok wracks his brain, trying to remember what could have called for such an occasion, but comes up empty, his mother’s stern warning echoing in his ears. 

As per usual, if it had anything to do with the organization, he’d do best not to ignore it.

Slipping on the stark white shirt and tie she’d chosen, the fabric itches against his skin, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb the mess into something somewhat presentable. He’s sure there was little to be done about the bags under his eyes, and the faint smell of tobacco emanating from him, and hoped that whoever these important guests were, they wouldn’t catch onto his late-night activities from the previous day. 

Stumbling into the hallway, Hoseok hears the faint chatter of voices, his father’s bellowing laugh a stark contrast to his mother’s delicate titter, and is immediately confused. Conversations with the bosses of the organization weren’t usually so… enthusiastic. 

When he rounds the corner to his living room, he stops in his tracks. Sitting next to his mother and father is another older couple he doesn’t recognize. They reek of wealth that his family could never even imagine, he notes, the polished Italian leather of the man’s shoes and the older woman’s massive diamond ring speaking for themselves. But he could honestly care less. Because to their left side, sitting on his favorite armchair, is you. The woman from in front of the mural. You’re clad in a simple sundress today, but you still manage to be nothing short of breathtaking against the backdrop of the sun’s rays. 

“There you are, Hoseok!” his father beckons him over jovially, but Hoseok remains frozen. “This is Mr. and Mrs. ____, and their daughter ____.”

Hoseok’s turns his gaze to his father, watching him recoil at the sharpness present in his son’s expression, a thousand unspoken questions lingering on his lips as to why these people were here, what purpose they had in his home, his space.

“We’d like for the two of you to get to know each other,” your mother speaks up with a smile so wide, he’d assume it’d been plastered onto her face. 

“Why?” he finally manages to whistle out in between grit teeth, looking only at you. But you don’t meet his eyes. Instead, your gaze is looking out his window, at the city beyond, the same loneliness from last night ever present in your eyes. 

“Because,” his father continues uncertainly, fidgeting the glass of wine in his hands, “___ is going to be your wife.”

You can feel Hoseok’s eyes glaring into the back of your head as he follows you wordlessly down the hallway. Moments pass before you come to a stop outside your apartment, and you hear the faint stumble of Hoseok’s boots as he stops unexpectedly in his tracks. His warm breath fans against the back of your neck for a brief moment before he straightens with a grunt, and you resist the urge to shiver, despite having never stepped foot into the rain.

The lock clicks, and he follows you inside. You can hear him rustle behind you as he struggles to remove his coat and boots, but you look straight ahead, hoping the darkness can hide how your fingernails are digging into your palm. 

“I won’t stay long,” his low voice breaks the silence. “Just until the storm passes.”

“Please,” you manage to muster up your most polite sounding voice. “Have a seat. I can get you something, maybe some water, o-or a cup of tea…” 

You want to curse your voice for wobbling in his presence, hating the way he still affected you even after all this time apart. Your brain bades you to walk away instinctively, and so you pad into the kitchen, wanting to put distance in between you and Hoseok so he can’t hear the rapid fluttering of your heart. The noise pounds in your ears as you rattle around in the cupboards, cursing when you realized you’d forgotten to turn on the light. It seemed embarrassing to do it now, and so you reach aimlessly, looking for some coffee. 

The pot bubbles, and in mere moments, you’re clutching two steaming mugs, finding your way back onto the living room. Hoseok has settled himself onto your couch, taking extra care not to rest his soaked shirt against the back of it, instead hunched over and dangling an unlit cigarette from his fingertips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me…” he gestures to it, twirling it around in his fingers. “I know you don’t like the smell.”

You’re unsure whether to be touched that he remembers, or uneasy at the way he says it so monotonously, as if you’d still judge him for something so mundane when so much else had happened in between you.

“Here,” you set down the coffee in front of him, taking the seat directly opposite. “It’ll help take the edge off.”

The warm liquid burns your throat as you rush to take a sip, and you nearly sputter trying to keep it down. Over the rim of your cup, Hoseok remains frozen, his own mug steaming and untouched. His dark eyes bore into you, studying your face, and you feel your cheeks begin to burn.

If he notices the bags under your eyes, he says nothing. The same way he says nothing when he probably remarks at your simplistic clothes and lack of jewelry, a far cry from the expensive dresses and diamonds he’d been used to seeing you in. 

“Were you about to go out?” Hoseok asks, and the question catches you off guard. “I’m sorry if I stopped you from going somewhere.”

“Or meeting someone.” The last part is a hushed whisper, mumbled underneath his breath, in the hopes that you wouldn’t catch him. But you had. You wish he’d stop apologizing. It makes you feel guilty when you shouldn’t be, like he’s trying and you’re shutting him out, when in reality it’d been the exact opposite. 

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes to life, a text message lighting up the screen. You freeze when you see who it’s from, quickly snatching your phone and cursing in your head. Minghao was a friend of a friend, the two of you running into each other a number of times over the past couple of weeks, before he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you for a coffee date.

You’d told him you’d think about it, and now here he was, lighting up your phone to ask you about your decision. Of course, how was he supposed to know that the reason you’d been holding off was the very man sitting in your living room, whom you’d almost married, and still couldn’t seem to let go?

Clutching your phone to your chest, you turn it to silent, setting it down beside you. Hoseok’s eyes are alight with curiosity, his lips turned up in a faint smirk, as though he’s remembering his statement from earlier. 

You take another sip, willing the caffeine to give you some strength, to rein in the bare threads of this conversation back to your control.

“How are your parents?”

Hoseok is taken aback by the question. He hadn’t expected it from you. There had once been a time where you’d been bright eyed and eager, wanting to know everything about him, bombarding him with question after question every time you were together. And yet somehow, he’d never managed to give you the time of day, always giving brusque answers and half-hearted excuses that there were other things that needed his attention.

He knew it was just a poor attempt to fill the silence, but his heart lurches at the thought that there’s so much you don’t know anymore. Namjoon coming back, Seokjin running away, the life that Hoseok knew being turned inside out. What’s more unsettling is the fact that he yearns to tell you, despite knowing he’d lost the privilege to do so.

“They’re okay. Doing well,” he lies through his teeth. “We all are. How about yours?”

He thinks it’s an innocent question, but he watches your fingers blanch as you grip the mug so tight, he thinks it’ll break. 

“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper out softly, and his heart stops. “I haven’t spoken to them since– you know.”

Hoseok feels dizzy at your confession. What do you mean you hadn’t spoken to them? Suddenly, it all begins to make sense in his head. The fact that he hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, because he hadn’t expected you to live alone, with your austere clothes and hair tossed up into a messy bun. It was so different from the woman he’d known, the dazzling one he’d written off as hollow in his mind, the one he was incapable of forming a real relationship with. 

And here you were, living the exact opposite of the cozy life he’d painted for you in his head. He thought you’d be fine, that you’d move on, your family offering you up to the next prospect that came along. And you’d accept them, like you’d accepted Hoseok with all his flaws, not caring that he could barely give you what you deserved.

His thoughts flash back to the last conversation you had, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed.

I can’t live like this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he watches annoyance flash across your face. He knows he’s done nothing but apologize this entire time, but it probably isn’t even worth a damn. No consolation would ever make up for losing someone that meant everything to you. He’d known that when Namjoon had run away.

“Hey,” you set the mug down, leaning over the table. For a brief second, he sees your hand reach out blindly in the darkness, almost as if it’s searching for his, but you withdraw just as quickly. “I’m okay. I really am.”

“I wish you’d stop pretending,” Hoseok blurts out, and he watches you jolt in surprise. “Why do you always have to pretend like everything’s okay, like nothing affects you? Is it the society training? Or do you really just not care about what happened at all?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over Hoseok’s words in your head.

“The same way you can pull the trigger on someone and be able to lie in your bed and fall asleep,” you seethe, a venom that Hoseok has never heard in your voice. 

“I knew who you were Hoseok. I knew what kind of man I was marrying. You think it didn’t affect me? You think I wasn’t scared out of my wits because of what you did, what other people could do to you?” 

You rise up, palms quivering as you open and close them, strolling over to the window. Hoseok watches your shoulders shake before they slump completely, and he knows that you’re crying.

He’s up before he can stop himself, feet ready to walk out the door. He’d fucked up the moment he’d stayed in the elevator with you, all the ugly feelings between you coming to a head, ones he’d struggled so hard to keep buried. 

But his body betrays him, instead leading him right behind. He pauses until he’s just close enough that if he reaches out, he’d be able to grab your arm and turn you around to face him. But he waits instead.

“I did what I did because I realized I was chasing a ghost,” you huff out, resignation in your tone. “I wanted you to be someone you weren’t. I wanted you to care so badly. But you didn’t. I don’t want any part in whatever you’re caught up in, Hoseok. Whatever has a hold on you so badly that you couldn’t even look beyond your cynicism to give me a chance.”

“I just want to survive.”

Hoseok grips the bathroom sink, knuckles turning white. His cell phone clatters on the counter beside him and he has to keep from heaving. This whole thing was a mess – no one had counted on Namjoon coming back. Even less so on him refusing to take up his father’s mantle. And so the threats continued – the words from the anonymous phone call still ringing in his ear, your name echoing across the line.

While he didn’t know what he felt for you, or whether he could even marry you, Hoseok knew you were an innocent person. You didn’t deserve to be the victim of your parents’ greed, them using you to bury their secrets in the hands of even more powerful people. You deserved gardens full of flowers and meals together every night, not coming home to an empty bed. Or a fiancé who couldn’t spare a moment during the entire night to even dance with you. 

He’s so lost in his brooding that he doesn’t hear the door the click behind him, the soft tapping of heels on the floor coming up behind him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask him gently, and he feels the bristle of your hand on his jacket. 

So much was wrong. You couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, straightening up to adjust his jacket. “I’ll need to leave soon. I can have the car stay behind for you.”

The farther away he got from you, the better. That way no one could hurt you – or him. 

“I can go with you,” your voice echoes from beside him, “I was getting tired anyway.”

Hoseok turns to face you, watching you recoil at the red rimming his eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Before he knows it, your face is drawing in closer, and he can smell the rosé on your breath. Your lips barely ghost against his, and he has to fight every nerve ending not to grab your hand and run away from here, somewhere where he wasn’t Hoseok, and you weren’t ____, and you didn’t need protecting from everything around you – most of all him. 

His paralysis slowly melts away and he’s pushing you away without realizing, the door to the bathroom suddenly materialising in front of him. 

“Like I said,” he doesn’t bother turning around, knowing his heart would twist at whatever expression he found on your face. “I’ll have the car stay behind for you.”

Before you can wrestle with the weight of your confession to Hoseok, a hand is clamping over your mouth. Caught in a silent scream, you turn your eyes to see Hoseok lifting a finger to his lips, willing you to stay quiet. And that’s when you hear them. The voices.

Raucous laughter echoes through the hallway, tinged with malevolent glee. The air around you feels cold, a breeze at the base of your spine, and you instinctively curl into Hoseok.

“Come out, come out,” the disembodied voice cackles from the hallway. “Are you hiding from us, Jung? Found some poor rich girl to use as a body shield?”

Your hand seizes Hoseok’s wrist clamped against your mouth, nails digging into his arm, the fear taking over. Slowly, his wrist lowers, slipping to take your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?” 

He’s so quiet you almost can’t tell he’s said it at all. You nod reluctantly, eyes continuing to dart to the door.

“Go hide underneath the bed. Lock the door. I may or may not come back but please stay inside. Don’t come looking for me.”

His voice is clipped, the faint hint of nerves colouring his tone, but his eyes are filled with a resoluteness you know all too well. You’d spent the better part of over a year staring into them, hoping they’d look back. And now they finally were. 

“Be safe.” Your voice comes out louder than you’d intended, but there’s no anger in Hoseok’s expression. All he does is nod, and then you turn, stumbling down the hallway to your room, never bothering to look back until you hear the door click behind you.

. . .

Hoseok’s heart pounds in his chest, a strange pain settling in his ribs – he never expected to be in this position again. His sense of duty had always been his biggest downfall – and while you were no longer his, he owed it to you to make sure he gave you exactly what you’d asked him for – the chance to survive, to come out on the other side of this. That’s why he had to settle this once and for all.

Choi’s cronies linger at the other end of the hallway, too dumb to notice Hoseok slipping out of your door, reaching for the revolver he’d kept hidden in his coat pocket. A chill settles in his bones as he runs his fingers over the metal.

The brief events of the night play over in his head – the rain pounding against the pavement, the ding of the elevator, the now-cold mug of coffee that sat on your coffee table. And then there was you – your eyes, the softness of your skin, the faint smell of gardenias that lingered on your skin.

And it hits Hoseok that while he was very much alive – he’d been in mourning. Mourning for the friendships he’d never be able to recover, for the youth that had been taken away from him. But most of all, Hoseok’s heart mourns for the relationship he’d never gotten to have with you. The glass walls he’d so carefully put up around himself shatter, making way for a torrential deluge. 

After me, the flood.

He remembers the first night you’d met, how he’d been drawn to you without even trying, the portrait of the wave. He remembers the months that passed afterwards, where you drew closer to him and he drew back. He remembers the regret he’d buried deep in his heart for not kissing you back the night of the gala, not knowing he’d never get another chance.

But most of all, he remembers the somber expression on your face the day you’d ended things, pressing the engagement ring back into his hands, the very same ring that was still sitting in the first drawer of his nightstand. 

Choi’s men finally perk up, noticing Hoseok’s solitary figure lingering at the end of the hallway, smirks twisting on their grotesque faces. A shot rings out, and Hoseok thinks of you now, hiding under your bed. And then he charges.

The alleyway was grim at this time of day, the sunlight barely able to reach beyond the towering skyscrapers, the clouds casting everything in grey. Rain fell softly from the sky. You clutch your coat tighter around you, unable to stop looking at the mural of the wave.

So much had changed since you’d first seen it. And yet it was still the same.

You know Hoseok from the thud of his boots against the pavement, coming up beside you. His head turns, an eyebrow raised in your direction, wondering why you’d asked to meet him here of all places.

You avoid his eyes, fingers clasping around the blue velvet in your pocket. His eyes widen with surprise when he sees the box, confusion marring his handsome face. 

A knot forms in your chest when you watch the confusion turn into alarm as you press the box into his hand, the dazzling diamond no longer on your left finger.

“I don’t understand,” he grunts, breath visible in the cold air.

“We can’t do this anymore, Hoseok. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”

“Was it something that I did?” he questions you, desperation creeping into his voice.

You scoff, watching him flinch, pain on his face. 

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s what you haven’t ever been able to do. It’s been an entire year, Hoseok. I’ve watched you answer every phone call that comes your way, disappear into the night to do god knows what, run whenever your friends call. And in that entire time, have you ever thought about us? About the future?”

You take a deep breath.

“I know that neither of us chose this, but Hoseok, we were engaged. Did that mean anything to you?”

He squares his shoulders, fists clenching at his sides, a tick in his jaw.

“You don’t understand. I-I’m not good for you, ___. I dont think I’ll ever be. There’s too much that’s happened, too much I’ve lost. But please don’t walk away like this.

“I thought it’d be enough,” you whisper, and Hoseok freezes. You didn’t know he’d heard you.

“I thought me loving you would be enough for the both of us. But it’s not. I need more. I need someone who I know will come home to me every night. But what I need even more than that, is for you to let me walk away so I can breathe again. So I can be myself.”

Your eyes are just as sad as the first time Hoseok saw them, and all of a sudden, you remark at how stagnant the two of you had been together.

“Hoseok please, I know I can’t ask you to do it if you love me, but if you’ve ever cared about me, even the tiniest bit, let me go.”

You watch him open the box, gazing at the ring. Moments pass by before he slips it into his own pocket, his eyes flitting to the wave as he gives you a small smile, the most genuine one you’d ever seen.

“Goodbye, ____. 

Hoseok’s fist rattles against the door, before he slumps over, heaving for breath. The pain in his side licks at him like the flames of a fire. He hisses when he presses a hand to it, eyes widening when it comes away covered in blood. Those fuckers had managed to get him. Shit.

His eyes are about to close when the door springs open, the wide eyes of Kim Namjoon taking in his battered figure. 

“Hobi, what the fuck?” Namjoon seethes, offering him an arm and pulling him inside. Slinging an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, the two of them hobble to Namjoon’s kitchen, the burning in Hoseok chest causing him to let out a loud groan.

“Hyun is sleeping,” Namjoon chastises him, and Hoseok bites his tongue, remembering that this Namjoon was dealing with a pregnant wife and a toddler. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened, or do I have to force it out of you?”

“I made a mistake, Namjoon. I went somewhere I shouldn’t have tonight. I fucked up, but I-I didn’t mean to I swear…”

Hoseok feels himself shake as the words pour out, the ruined mission the furthest thing from his mind. He tells Namjoon everything – from being tailed to running into to you, to how he’d left, not knowing whether you were okay or not. 

“That was a dick move,” Namjoon huffs.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok looks up at his best friend, who looks more pissed off than he’s ever seen him. 

“I said what I said. That was a dick move, just leaving her like that.”

“I don’t need a lecture on running away from you, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon wipes away the blood on his side, and Hoseok bites his tongue at the sting of the alcohol, before slumping into the chair next to him. 

“You’re an idiot, Jung Hoseok. You’ve been so afraid of letting yourself feel things for so long, and I know it’s because you think that everyone around you is going to leave, or that you’ll lose them. But I’m telling you right now, that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.”

“You have to let yourself just be, Hobi. Just let go. Enjoy things - life, your friends, your family. Be open to the possibility of love. It’s the only thing that can keep the darkness away.”

Namjoon’s voice shrinks when he says the last line, and Hoseok knows his friend is far off in his own mind, battling the demons that plague him. 

“I think I’m too far gone for that, Namjoon,” Hoseok tells him. “Maybe some of us weren’t meant for happiness. Maybe some of us needed to make sacrifices so others could live the lives they wanted to.”

“That’s a damn lie if I’ve ever heard one, Hoseok.” Namjoon striaghtens, rising up from the chair. “I know you’ve been angry at me for leaving, for keeping you all in the dark. I know how much it hurts to not be able to share your happiest moments with people you love. And I’m sorry for that. But you have a chance to change things.”

“Listen Hobi,” Namjoon crouches down to his level. “I want to be the best man at your wedding – I want to be there for you in all the ways you didn’t get to do for me. This is my way of making amends, but you need to fix whatever this is between you two.”

“What makes you think she’ll even take me back? I was awful to her… god, she didn’t deserve that Joon. She deserves so much better.”

“Do you love her?” Namjoon asks him, and Hoseok is shocked when he doesn’t even have to pause to think about it. He wants to start over, to be by your side, to have a chance to love you properly this time around. 

“Second chances come when you least expect them, Hobi. Think about what would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out into the rain last night. And don’t let it happen again.”

The knock at the door startles you, your phone clattering to the floor. Swearing under your breath, you pick it up, perusing the message from Minghao once again. He was nothing if not persistent. And Hoseok was never coming back. You’d convinced yourself of that.

It’d been over a week since he’d left you that night - the promise to keep you safe burrowing its way into your heart. And then radio silence. You’d heard the gunshots in the hallway, but when you’d opened the door, no one was there, the only evidence of the showdown being the faint splatters of blood on the wall. When the police had questioned you, you’d left Hoseok’s name out of it – those words echoing in your mind, instilling a false sense of loyalty in you.

Why did you think things would be different this time around? It’d been foolish to assume that Hoseok thought anything more of you. But you couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the gentle touches, the way he’d promise he would never let anything happen to you, and you fell for him all over again.

Throwing your phone aside, you grumble as you make your way to the door, making a mental note to respond to Minghao later, agreeing to the date.

Swinging it open, you freeze when you see who’s on the other end. Hoseok, looking worse for wear with bruises on his jaw and a nasty cut on his forehead, nervously twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded - unable to speak as you take him in, his dark, inquisitive eyes gazing into your shocked ones. 

“You better let me in, ____,” he says with a grin. “Or the neighbours are gonna think I did something really bad this time.”

Wordlessly, you open the door to allow him to enter, watching as he slips off his coat and shoes, an exact repeat of a week ago. You watch him, trying to open your mouth and say something, ask him anything, but nothing will come out. 

“These are for you,” Hoseok nearly shoves the bouquet in your hands and you watch him rub at the back of his neck, his ears reddening.

“Are you okay Hoseok?” you finally manage to ask him, setting the flowers on your coffee table. Your concern wins out over your confusion once again, but the whole scene is odd – him, smiling in your apartment, the late afternoon sunlight casting half his angular face in a mysterious shadow.

“Just a little nick to my side,” he lifts his shirt up, your eyes widening at the bandages on his abdomen. “But actually, I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since the day I let you walk away, and I can’t live with it anymore.”

You take a step back, unable to breathe. The space in between you seems to have lessened considerably, and you can make out every delicate detail of his face. Dizzy, you put some distance in between the two of you.

“Everything hurts, ___. It hurts because I look at you and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, knowing how much pain I put you through. It hurts knowing that you’re so kind, so understanding of someone like me, when I don’t deserve it at all. And what hurts the most is knowing that I love you, and I’ve been lying to myself this entire time because I’m afraid you’ll leave just like everyone else, but I lost you anyway.”

Hoseok’s voice cracks on the last words, and you watch him sway, gripping onto your counter for support.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” you finally manage to look him in the eyes, tears spilling out of your own. “I thought I was crazy, because ever since you walked out that door a week ago, all I’ve been doing is waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m here,” Hoseok closes the gap between you, arms wrapping around you. You breathe in the faint scent of tobacco on his leather jacket, mixed with the spice of his cologne. “And I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

You grip his lapels, before your arms come up to wrap around his neck, running your fingers through the soft hair at his nape. 

“What if it’s not different this time around?” you whisper into his neck. “What if nothing changes?”

“What if it is?” his low voice rumbles into your hair. “Can you trust me, ___? One more time?”

You take his hand in yours, bringing it to your chest, his lips parting in awe at the fluttering of your heartbeat.

“Only you can do that to me,” you say softly, a smile gracing your lips. 

Before you know it, Hoseok’s lips are crashing against yours, and you can feel him release a euphoric sigh, groaning into your mouth. It’s slow, tentative in the way he waits for your body to respond, never pushing more than you’re comfortable with. Eventually, even the small bit of distance in between you becomes too much to bear. You card your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in your chest.

It feels too short when he pulls away all too soon, lips tinged with red and eyes dark with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since the night of the gala,” he rasps, warmth blooming in your chest at his confession. “You were—, I mean you still are, breathtaking.”

You can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand, watching his entire body soften at your touch. 

“Come with me,” you ask him, eyes turning down the hallway to your bedroom. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for. 

Hoseok tries to ignore the rapid rushing of blood in his ears, his focus narrowing to your head resting on his shoulder, the two of you looking out at the city together for the last little while from your bed. It’s somewhere he never imagined he’d be, but he’d felt the ice around his heart melt the moment he’d finally kissed you for real, warmth filling his veins.

And despite relishing in your presence, it was spiking to a fever pitch. He’d tasted you, and now he couldn’t get enough. All it takes is a brief moment for you to look in his eyes, and he’s pulling you into him once again, mouth hard on yours, unable to resist the desire for more, more, more. 

You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He uses one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to hike your dress up to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in. 

He kisses you again, his lean body hovering over yours, hands roaming everywhere – your arms, up your neck, and on your thighs. He inches higher and higher, fingers ghosting over your core.

“Hoseok please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You part your thighs for him, and he wastes no time, pulling your soaked underwear to the side and dipping his fingers into your arousal. He presses another hard kiss to your lips, catching your moans in his mouth while he works you open, leaving you trembling underneath him.

You whine when his fingers leave you, clenching around nothing, coming up to cup your exposed breasts in both hands while he licks and sucks at your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans against your chest. “How are you so perfect? How are you even mine?”

His voice breaks, and you mouth at his jaw, mirroring his actions until purple bruises begin to bloom in the spots where your lips previously were.

“I’m yours,” you nip at his bottom lip. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Believe me,” he smirks. “I like it. I like it a lot actually. Let me show you how much.”

With adept skill, he manages to remove your panties in seconds, throwing them to the wall. The clinking sound of his belt drives you mad, and your hands join his, the two of you awkwardly fumbling to remove it.

You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes.

“Some other time, love,” he whispers, voice lowering a few octaves. “Right now, I need to feel you.”

You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Move, please,” you beg him, and he obliges, hiking one leg up over his shoulder to open you up for him, the wet sounds of your pussy accompanying the fluid snap of his hips. His knuckles grip the headboard, turning white while he pins you underneath him, unable to take his eyes off the way your tits bounce with every thrust. His hands grip at your ass, every jerk of his hips an excuse to hold you tighter, until he can see your skin redden underneath his fingers. 

“Oh my god, Hoseok, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the sparks underneath your skin, lighting you up like a livewire.

“Come for me,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Hoseok speeds up his thrusts to join you, roaring when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths. 

Moments pass like this, him remaining inside you while he burrows into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your damp skin. Eventually he pulls out of you with a soft whine, brushing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair at your temple, before rising. 

You trap his wrist in your hand, panic settling in. He watches your expression change and immediately stiffens, cradling you against his chest.

“That expression you always talk about, the flood. I-, I looked it up. And I know the life I have isn’t ideal, and maybe things will only get harder, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life not caring anymore.”

“Do you know what I was thinking of that night, looking at the wave?” you mumble in his ear, and he gazes at you inquisitively, watching the way your skin glows under the moonlight as you take a breath.

“My whole life, people have forced me into this box, this image, of someone they want me to be – the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. It’s been suffocating. All I wanted that night was a taste of freedom - that feeling of happiness you have on a beach, feeling the waves crash at your feet. And then I saw you.”

Hoseok leaves a kiss in your hair, his fingers intertwining with yours. Briefly, his heart drops at the absence of the ring he’d given you on your finger, but he knows when you’re ready, it’ll be waiting for you. He’ll be waiting for you. And the two of you will step into the flood, together. 

a/n pt. 2:  Okay long ending note here. First, please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) Second, I don't normally say this but the writer's block really got me good with this one, so I apologize if it's not up to my usual standards (pls be kind tho). And third and last, this fic definitely would never exist if it weren't for the wonderful Guarded series by Ana (@xjoonchildx). I think about it more than is necessary and this is definitely my tribute to the impeccable Captain Jung.

As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi &lt;3

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be removed): @jalexad @secfir @hobi-love @back2bluesidex @temptingempress

[gold-snek-hoe]

Hello and welcome to Opinions from an Internet Nobody. Today's essay:

"Ger therapy" is the new "You need Jesus": One Weirdo's Navigation through Cultural Shame

This is a supposedly well-meaning sentiment that is often weaponized against people who are behaving outside of perceived cultural norms. It's a favorite of homophobes who see queerness/transness as a mental illness, but I've been seeing it used to demonize kink (which historically is often linked to queerness), and more generally any "weird" behavior that makes people uncomfortable.

For example, otherkin, systems (especially those with fictives), and people who take fictional characters as partners. Y'know, "weirdos" who "can't separate reality from fiction." And, sure, sometimes there can be a problem with that distinction, but I know as well as you that most internet strangers saying "get therapy" don't actually give a shit about the mental health of those they target. It's code for "your behavior makes me uncomfortable, stop it."

Same sentiment as "you need Jesus."

This has actually taken me a long time to figure out. I've been in therapy for my entire adult life, working through various traumas, severe depression, anxiety, all that. Those were the biggest problems as they negatively impacted, and often endangered, my life. It was only after my hospitalization in 2020, where I was finally put on much needed medication, that I could start to grow into myself.

I changed my name. I top surgery. I came out as polyamorous. I finally got my official autism diagnosis. Now I'm fuckin' married! But... there are still things I'm working through in therapy. Mainly, shame over my "weirder" behaviors. My current therapist has been a huge blessing in helping me accept the things I was too ashamed to admit.

Now, I feel comfortable enough to share.

I'm otherkin. Always have been. My connection to my humanity is tenuous, and I'm sure that's connected to my autism. When mad, I feel phantom horns sprouting from my forehead. I have a tail that swishes back and forth at the base of my spine. In my soul, I am monstrous, and years of therapy has not erased that.

I feel like I'm only half in the physical world most of the time. This doesn't hinder my real-world success (I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, have an IMDB page, and am on my third book), but informs the way I look at the world. There's a whole other universe in my head that hums along with me in my day-to-day. That's part of why I'm so skilled as a writer. To ask me to divorce from that is to tell me to stop existing. Sorry, it's how I've always operated.

Lastly, and this is the one I'm really anxious about, I have a fictional husband. Now, looking at my blog, you might say "yeah, no shit," but I don't just ship myself with him. I mean I practice pop-culture Witchcraft, and the Goblin King is my patron. I mean I have a Labyrinth-themed tarot deck that I talk to him with. I mean I held a ritual to spiritually marry him. Basically, I Snape-wived myself.

And guess what? My therapist isn't concerned. It's not hurting my ability to live my life. I have other interests, hobbies, and goals outside of him, which he actively encourages in all our tarot sessions! I wouldn't be doing this if he didn't support me. My IRL spouse is usually there for whatever magical shit I'm doing, and supports me! Some of my closest friends know, and the only complaint I've gotten is "this guy seems important to you, I wish you told me sooner." Hell, my MOTHER knows and supports me, which is huge, because our relationship was pretty damaged after I came out as trans.

If you have a problem with the way I live my life, when literally nobody else does, take a good long look at why. You don't give a fuck about my mental health. You just don't like that I'm weird.

Tl;dr: My mental health is better than it's ever been since embracing the weird, so leave me and my imaginary husband Marak Sixfinger alone.

[badaziraphaletakes]

can you please stop? screenshotting someone else’s post is extremely rude and only makes the fandom a worse place. talk about a bad take you saw, describe how it’s harmful, and vague all you want, but don’t screenshot. i agree that most of these takes are awful but that’s no excuse to do this to people. either confront the person who’s take you don’t like or make your own post. stop screenshotting, please.

Either confront the person who’s take you don’t like or make your own post.

The assumption that I didn’t try that is where you went wrong. I (mod X) started this blog only after I tried many, many times to confront people about their offensive takes directly and it didn’t work. I was subjected to appalling harassment and even bigotry. That’s what happens when you try to engage with someone who’s being offensive.

I had been throwing the idea around for weeks and what finally decided me on starting it was that I found out that I wasn't alone. That the anti-Autistic bias and the ableism and the transphobia and the victim-blaming and the misogyny (and on and on and on) that we kept seeing and being subjected to was ruining our enjoyment of this show. This was bigger than just me.

FTR, most of the takes that are submitted to us (note that I'll be switching between "I" and "we" in this reply depending on the context) don’t have a handle attached to them, but of the few that do include a handle, 99% of the time I have recognized it as someone who I have seen being so bigoted that there was no possible way I could engage with them. We don't confront people directly partly because we don't want to direct people who disagree back to the OP's blog, and partly to keep the mods safe.

You say “do this to people” like this blog is committing some kind of outrage, which is absurd. We are, at worst, being slightly rude (which I think is justified considering sarcasm and humor are one of the only weapons we have to fight back against hate), whereas most of the posts we comment on are outright hateful. They’re the ones “doing this to people”.

We are being far more considerate of the writers’ feelings and their dignity than they ever were of other people’s in the fandom. The takes are not just ‘awful’ (although, that too haha); they are actively harming vulnerable members of the fandom, and, more concerningly, are spreading messages that will poison our views on how we should treat Autistic people, ab*se survivors, and the like in broader society. Quite frankly, the people who are spouting the kind of anti-Autistic/ableist/victim-blaming/otherwise bigoted crap that forms the bulk of the content we feature here deserve to have their posts screenshotted. People who say things like that do not deserve to be handled with kid gloves in response.

(Also I don’t have time to re-type and slightly paraphrase every bad take I see. And if I did, people would throw out “no one is really saying this”. And even if it weren’t for that, I don’t think it’s reasonable or appropriate to expect me to use my time that way.)

Incidentally, nothing is stopping people from messaging/asking us or commenting if they recognize a post as their own, but only one person has ever done that, asking if a post was theirs. I replied that it was, leaving the ball in their court. So far we haven’t heard back from them about the matter, which is fine. But I digress.

As for this blog making the fandom a worse place - even though it’s only a few weeks old, I’ve had an average of two new people a day, every day, tell me how grateful they are I created it and how it makes them feel safe and how it’s the only reason they haven’t left the fandom. I’ve even had multiple people say “I was going to leave the fandom because of that specific post and then your blog called it out and I felt like I wasn’t alone”. So yeah, I'd say screenshotting is important here.

There is a subset of the fandom - many of us Autistic, Disabled, ab*se survivors, GNC, trans, and/or otherwise oppressed - who have been made to feel EXTRAORDINARILY unsafe by the Aziraphale hate (which far, far too often is thinly-veiled hate for some of the aforementioned groups of people) and the truly scary way people double down when we push back against it. So I don’t care if people are annoyed by my sharing a screenshot of their post. Not when this blog has become a safe space for so many people who otherwise would have had Good Omens ruined for them by the bigotry and general hatefulness we keep seeing.

LSS I will not stop building this tiny lil corner of the internet that is the only part of the fandom where many of us feel safe.

I actually made a post addressing almost this exact thing a couple weeks ago; if I can find it, I’ll add it here in a rb.

[magnoliabutters]

• THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T CARE •

pairing: joel miller x (18+, she/her) reader

summary: joel and ellie are tasked to move a package from jackson to san diego. little did they know you were the "cargo..."

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language, cordycep apocalypse related violence & weapons, canon divergence, tlou part 1 & 2 spoilers; angst, medium to slow burn, pet names, voyuerism, sub!joel and dom!reader, age gap in pairing, masturbation, etc.

word count: ~6.3k

support your writer: reblogs for daddy joel ✨🌿

request: by @yourmomsmilfmistress; katrina babes, i have another idea!!! i was thinking something along the lines of (whatever male character you want/ im not picky) is OBSESSED with reader and one day after a torturous hangout he starts to 🍆💦 ( ya know) after she leaves and for some reason it's not working and it's like he's just edging himself but (of course) reader comes and walks in on it and it's like sub!male and dom!reader smut!!!

note: um… most definitely. the way i thought of joel freaking miller instantly. sub male? common now 😈 we are set in a post-tlou part 2 world where no one died, abby who?, and ellie lives happily on the farm (aka 20+ age). also, loosely following the plot of part 1. for visuals of characters, i am moving forward with what we’ve seen so far of hbo’s part one and game’s part two casting. although as it’s older ellie, i went with video game looks. hopefully that makes sense. enjoy my fellow hoes ⚡️

Don't tell them your name. Just tell them you're there to see Maria.

His words keep running through your head as you gallop atop your trusted steed, Horse. He told you, repeatedly, that they will find you - not the other way around. All you needed to do was get to the vicinity of Jackson County. Well, you are about a mile into said county and you haven't come across a single person. Let alone, a single runner.

The two things cannot co-exist this far from the cities. If there are no runners or clickers, then there must be people. If there are infected, there are no people. But emptiness? That is something unheard of. It puts you on edge. You swear you want to just yell, yell to draw something out. But that would be stupid. You don't know how many are out here ... people or infected.

You hop over a razor wired fence in the middle of the road. Its height hits a the top of your knee. Perfect stop runners. Your first sign that people have been in this neck of the woods. The deeper you get into Jackson County, you wonder why all you need to say is "I'm here to see Maria." Would these people attack you and saying those words would be the only thing to stop them? Or are they dumb enough to bring just about anyone back into their town? You have absolutely no clue what he has signed you up for.

Fear stands your hairs on end. It fuels your adrenaline and heart as Horse guides you into an opened field. On the main road, you read a sign that displays "surface may be icy." You're thankful you were assigned this job in the middle of July. In front of you, you note green ivory glued to the brick walls of an old music store. The roads were shit, as usual. Cracks and bumps from overgrowth and lack of maintenance. You hope they are not too rough on Horse's shoes. She had them switched out in Colorado, back when you saw your people last.

Horse abruptly stops. Harsh enough for your full body to push up against her back. "Fuck," you grumble with a hand to your head. "What the hell?" You slowly open your eyes to note the clicker before you. With widening eyes, you swiftly reach to unhook your knife from the saddle. As quiet as a mouse, you hop off of the pillion and carefully land your feet on the grass below. You side step as you make your way closer. its clicks grow louder as it uses its echolocation in the opposite direction.

Your eyes are constantly moving, wondering if there are any other infected around. There is luckily no movement. Just one single clicker. The fungi sporadically growing throughout its body. The cordyceps on full display on its face - if you can even call it a face. In your last two steps, you rush up to it. You hook your arm over its chest. Your fingers curve over its shoulder as you grip tightly against the rough flesh. With your other hand, you stab your knife into the crook of its neck. It quickly became limp in your arms. You let slide off your body and ultimately onto the road.

"Drop the knife," you hear behind you. The voice is rough and booming. You gradually put your hands up. You drop the knife, careful to have it fall upon its hilt and not its blade. "On your knees," it bellows. You laugh, tilting your head to the side. "No can do," you scoff. "I only get on my knees when I want to." The man behind you laughs as he slowly walks up to you. His boots crunching against the dirt and gravel.

"On your knees," another voice appears. Despite its higher tone, it is just as rough. A smile grows upon your face as you carefully drop to your knees. "Oh for you, of course," you mutter to the woman. She quickly grabs hold of your wrist and places it behind your back. Her grip harsh and tight. You release a laugh as you lean back into your captor. "I'm here for Maria," you mutter.

Abruptly, the movements behind you stop. The grasp remains tight. "Maria?" the exasperated man's voice pushes through the air. His boots' steps become faster as he rushes behind you. "Why?" the woman asks. You feel the cool head of a gun at the back of your neck. "Hey, hey, hey," you furiously mumble. "I-I'm a smuggler. I'm with a group of people who told me Maria owes them one. I just got sent here for her to pay the debt."

The gun is pressed harder against your neck. "What debt?" the man's voice asks. You move your head to the side, attempting to pull yourself away from the gun's focused point. The gun holder makes sure it stays against your skin despite your movements. "I don't even know, man. I was just sent here. They told me to say 'I'm here for Maria' and that she would know what to do," you spit out.

You hear the man pace behind you. He sighs heavily. His voice hushed as he speaks towards the woman. "I don't feel good about this, El," he whispers. "Does she have any people in her past?" the woman asks. "Not that I know of," he says as those steps draw closer once more. You are suddenly pushed to the ground. You cut up your chin as you couldn't catch yourself in time. "Fuck," you mutter into the ground. "Your name," he mumbles. "I don't have time for games." You yell as your palms lay flat against the surface. "Rita," you quickly lie.

"Alright, Rita," the man's voice bustles behind you. "Let's go." Next thing you knew, a bag was pulled over your head. Your head was then banged against the hard rubber bedding of a truck.

They grip against the bag over your head so hard that it pulls on some of your hair as it uncovers your face. Your eyes slowly blink to adjust to the light. "Shit," you grumble as you relax your arms, only to realize that you were tied to a chair. Rope. Fuck, you think. Rope hurts the most.

"Now, Rita, I'm not going to ask again. Why are you here for Maria?" The familiar voice asks. You squint to look in his direction. A latino man with slicked black hair crouches before you. You look behind him to recognize that you were in a stable - a wooden stable. There is hay all over the floor, but no horses. What kind of stable doesn't have horses? As your eyes trail back towards your feet, you note red splotches staining the wooden floor below you. "Damn it," you whisper the elongated swear under your breath. You know exactly what kind of place this is.

"I told you already, man," you whine. "My people didn't tell me shit. Just that I was assigned a job and Maria owed a ride." You look into the brown eyes staring holes into your face. "I'm here to collect on that ride," you whisper. "To where?" the man asks. "I'll tell Maria ... once I get my ride," you answer with a smirk. The man raises his fist as his upper lip tenses. You wince at the sight.

“Tommy!” You recognize the woman’s voice as he holds back his fist. She walks out from the darkness of one of the stables. You smile at the sight. She looks younger than you. Her reddish brown hair gave you goosebumps. Her eyes a greenish blueish grey. Something you would have envied as a child. She some how looks sweet, but also has clearly endured so much in her short time.

“So, we have Tommy,” you share as you nod towards the man. “And El,” you murmur as you look up to her. You smile - a smile that El winces at. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” you sigh as you attempt to shrug against the chair. “I don’t want to give anyone grief. I just need to talk to-” Suddenly, a remarkable woman bursts through the doors. Another man at her side. Her eyes serious and hellbent. Her skin a deep and beautiful brown. She is undeniably gorgeous, and surprisingly pregnant. She definitely had the glow, complete with her large firmed bump. “Tommy, what the hell is this?” she asks sternly.

Maria, you think. They never gave you a picture, but you knew from the second she commanded that room. The second both Tommy and El backed away from you. Their hands either up or open at their sides. She was in charge. And she was headed right for you. “Maria,” you say with a sing songy voice. Her head shoots your way. “I need a ride.”

Maria stares down at your smile. Her upper lip pulls, just like Tommy’s. “Where?” she asks calmly. “San Diego,” you answer. “San Diego?” she scoffs. “I don’t owe them that much.” You tilt your head, smiling to yourself. “Well, someone thinks you do,” you smirk. Tommy grunts as he steps towards you. Maria quickly puts out an arm across his chest.

With a sigh, she returns her gaze to you. Her arm still across his chest. You are curious about those two. “I obviously can’t take you myself,” she mutters. “Obviously,” you affirm as you nod towards her stomach. “I’ll find you someone. You’ll leave in the morning,” she says carelessly. She turns around and speaks to her people. “Untie her,” she says under her breath.

The man who walked in with her quickly follows through with her demand. You rub your wrists and forearms where the rope’s red rings pressed into your skin. You stand with the devil’s smile across your face. El is the first to walk up to you, while Tommy’s eyes are still daggers. “Hey, sorry,” she says as she rubs the back of her neck. “Things didn’t go so well the last time a new person asked about one of our people.” You hum as you nod. “Make sense,” you say under your breath as you return your gaze to Tommy.

“Maria’s his wife,” El adds as she follows your eyes. “He’s been extra sensitive, given the baby and all.” You smile at her words. She pulls your attention. “It’s also Ellie by the way,” she mumbles. She gestures goodbye and walks out. “Rita?” the man asks. You look at him with confusion. “My name’s Jesse. Come on, follow me.” With hesitation, you follow the tall man out into the dark night.

Your eyes quickly fall upon the string lights crossing from building to building. It is so beautiful your mouth gapes open. “We have a small bed and breakfast for travelers,” he shares as he points to a building at the end of the street. “Shit - a bed and breakfast?” you scoff under your breath. As you walk, you note the happy and clean people randomly walking about. They are loud - comfortably loud. It must be nice.

“Where you from?” Jesse asks. His gaze stuck on you. “I don’t do small talk,” you say with a weak smile. “I don’t mean to be rude.” He laughs, raising his hands. “No, I get it. Just trying to make conversation,” he answers. “Oh, well if we’re making conversation, tell me what your favorite color is,” you teasingly laugh. He chuckles, shooting you a sweet smile. “Orange,” he scoffs. “You?” You nod, smiling as you step onto the front deck of this apparent bed and breakfast. “Green.”

With quick goodbyes, you go inside and easily secure your room. The room is on the first floor. Inside the small space, you have a worn down desk, chair, and bed. Your pack is already resting against the foot of the bed frame. You grab the back of the chair and hook it underneath the door’s knob. You turn the lock and deadbolt the door. When you finally lay back to rest, you reflect on your day. It didn’t go as well as you had hoped - as you had been told. But at least you are alive. At least you are on your way to San Diego.

After the best sleep of your life, Jesse led you to a building across the way. Maria, Tommy, Ellie, Jesse, another woman and a man sit alongside a long dinner table. The woman appears sweet. She sits closely to Ellie. The man is something else. His demeanor laid back, like he had no care in the world. His face kind, but also worn thin after years of this shit world. You can immediately see through the facade and know he is good. But damn does he give off such a strong guard dog vibe. He has random patches of grey amongst his black hair and beard. His eyes dark, but youthful. You struggle to keep your eyes off of him. He watches you, though. He sized you up as soon as you walked through the door.

“Rita,” Maria calls out. You are too busy attempting to watch him through your eye lashes. “Rita,” she says louder. You quickly turn your attention to her. Only now remembering that Rita was the name you gave them. “Yes,” you answer with high energy. “These are my best people,” she shares. “I want Joel and Ellie on this.” Ellie sits up straight, shocked as she exchanges looks with the girl beside her. The two begin to discuss in hushed tones. The man abruptly turns towards Maria, disingenuously laughing under his breath. “No, Maria,” he scoffs. “That ain’t happening.” The man stands, his hands firm against the table. He must be Joel. Rarely have you met someone who’s name perfectly fits them. It makes you smile.

Maria sighs as though she saw this coming. “I would go myself-” she starts. “So let me go,” Tommy interjects. Joel and Maria quickly respond “no” in unison. Maria takes a breath as she slowly looks to her partner. “I’m about to pop. You can’t go,” she whispers. “I need you.” Tommy solemnly nods as he looks back towards the rest of the group. Maria turns back to Ellie with patient eyes. “Ellie, Dina - are y’all okay with this?” she asks. Dina nods, looking at Ellie. "J.J. will be fine. You should go," she whispers. Ellie then turns to Maria and nods.

Joel's scoff could be heard from two buildings down. "This is bullshit, Maria and you know it," he yells as he slams his hand against the table. Tommy stands, pointing towards him. "Watch it, Joel," he warns through gritted teeth. Maria takes a breath as she looks between Ellie and Joel. "You two have gone across state lines more times than any of us. This should be easy as pie," she says softly. He rolls his eyes as a deep, unenthused chuckle falls from his lips. "What's the cargo?" he asks with furrowed brows as he looks off in the distance.

Maria turns towards you. She rakes over you with slight confusion and hesitation. Within a second, there was a moment where her face smoothed out. She took a breath and returned to Joel. "She is," she states with finality. Your face remains looking down the table, but your eyes travel to Joel's seat. He gradually turns to look at the group. With a guttural growl, he says, "Absolutely not." Maria throws her hands up. "Joel, they will come to collect. I will not put anyone else's life in danger," she yells.

"If they come to collect, they can take her dead body," Joel booms as he pulls a gun from his holster and points it towards your head. You remain still. Your breathing intensified as the remainder of the group stands to their feet. "Joel," Maria says softly. "We need her - whether you like it or not. We need her in San Diego." Joel exhales through his flared nostrils. His mouth tight as he looks down at you through the sights of his pistol.

"What's so important about her?" he asks as he lowers the gun. Maria sighs in relief. "I don't know," she shakes her head. "All I know is these people helped us in a pinch back when me and dad started up. They said they'd come to collect and all they needed was a team to get something to San Diego." Tommy watches her intently. It must have been the first time she shared this with him. "I've seen what these people have done when groups don't pay up, Joel," she mutters. "We will not win that fight without losing everything."

Joel sucks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He holsters his gun and walks towards the front door. He hooks a backpack over his shoulder and turns back towards the group. "Ellie?" he asks as he slowly opens the door. You turn to watch Ellie kiss Dina. She presses her head against hers and whispers things you cannot make out. They separate with a strong embrace. Ellie walks towards Joel. "You coming, Rita?" she calls out behind her. You stand immediately. Your shocked eyes fall upon Maria and Tommy as you attempt to process everything that has happened in the past few minutes. You grab your pack and walk out to meet the pair in the street.

Ellie watches Joel with trust and a hint of distaste. You wonder about their story. As you walk up, the two stop talking and turn to look at you. "Hello," you greet awkwardly. "While we're out there, you do exactly what I say - when I say. Understand?" Joel says sternly as he points a finger in your face. How could those sweet eyes simultaneously look so threatening? "Understood," you whisper under your breath as you exchange looks with Ellie.

Joel quickly turns and heads straight to what looks like a mechanic's garage. "Does he always have a stick up his ass?" you ask as you skip to catch up with Ellie. She smiles, nervously biting her lip. "At first," she mutters under her breath as her eyes remain on him. "The Chevy," he asks a man standing behind the desk. He promptly hands him keys without question. You nod, noting how nice it must be to live in Jackson.

"Chevy, huh?" you say, attempting to start a conversation with the man. Joel completely ignores you as he slides the keys into the door handle. "Nice try, but he's not going to crack for a while," Ellie whispers in your ear as she walks to the other side of the truck. You laugh as you open the side door and hop into the backseat. "Seatbelt," he says softly as he points Ellie's way. "Oh," she mutters as she slides it over her body and clips it at her side.

The three of you sat in silence for the first hour of the trip. It was unbearably boring. Wyoming's sights were not as incredible outside of Jackson county. You wish you could sleep, but did not trust the two enough to even try. "Joel," Ellie starts but continues to laugh. "Remember when we cleared this hotel. Remember the tomatoes?" She laughs so hard that she holds her stomach. She leans fully against the passenger seat as she kicks her feet up. You swear you watch Joel crack a smile as he watches the girl burst into a laughing fit. You wish you got a better look.

"What happened with the tomatoes?" you curiously ask Ellie. She turns, struggling to speak between laughs. As she starts, Joel quickly interrupts her. "Don't tell her anything. She's cargo, nothing more," he instructs. Ellie sinks into her chair. Her expression perplexed as she seemed excited to share. "Just cargo, huh?" you taunt. His face remains still as he eyes focus on the road. "Wow, you Jackson people are the sweetest I've ever met," you say sarcastically. "Maybe I should just dip out on this trip. I can probably make it on my own."

Joel quickly slams against the breaks. Your shoulder digs into the back of his seat as you let out a stunned groan. "What the hell?!" you yell. "We are taking you to San Diego, or we are taking your body," he turns to say with stern eyes. You place distance between you two. A sudden rush of alertness and danger bursting through your body. "Let me be clear. I don't care if you're dead or alive by the end of this trip. We are paying off Maria's debt," he seethes. "I'd recommend shutting up if you plan to get there alive."

You suck your tongue against your cheek as you laugh under your breath. You lean back harshly against the back of your seat. "Eyes on the road, asshole," you say as you nonchalantly gesture towards the street. He rolls his eyes as he faces forward behind the wheel. He presses on the gas gradually. Ellie sits in awkward silent with a tight lip. She finds comfort in looking out the window.

Less than a week has gone by and you are barely crossing the border into Utah. In each passing day, you learn something new about Ellie. She loves to draw. She met her partner, Dina, on the first day she got to Jackson. Her son is named after Jesse and Joel. She calls him her "potato" - an incredible nickname you find endearing. The days are starting to blend together, but Ellie remains a highlight of each.

Joel, on the other hand, has remained annoyingly silent. He solely speaks to Ellie. If he does choose to talk to you, it is usually some demand where he forgot how to say "please." He is abundantly cold. It is infuriating. Here and there, you catch him staring your way. His glimpses seem familiar, as opposed to his usual and intentional looks of anger.

He never looks at your eyes, but his gaze tends to fall on your lips and hair. Any time you caught his eye line, he would immediately look away. The way his gaze lingered on you always left you in a ball of confusion. You thought you would have been on edge, being stared at for hours on end. Yet, you loved it. It made you feel seen. It made you feel beautiful. If he wasn't so vocal about his disapproval, you would think he had a "thing" for you. For now, you just enjoy his looks - hoping they are filled with adoration and not hatred.

Luckily for the three of you, communication was not needed as much when taking out the infected. The trio even came across a group of clickers a day ago. Without saying a word, the three put on their gas masks and stepped into the spores. They could all hear the clicking echoing through the old and damaged walls. With only nods and looks, the three separated and silently took down each clicker.

You turned to look at them with excitement. “That was awesome!” you said joyously. “Very SWAT-team.” Ellie was kind enough to crack a smile as she cleaned her blade on the side of her jeans. You turned to Joel, waiting for any reaction. He gave you absolutely nothing. He shook off the blood on his machete and gracefully placed it back onto his backpack. He then immediately moved toward the cabinets in front of him to search for supplies. God, did he really not have a sense of humor?

Tonight, you find yourself resting beside Ellie in a closed off room. The day was once again filled with ambiguous look exchanges with Joel. Your body aches from taking out runners. You wonder if you'll be in pain for the entire trip. The room rests at the end of a long hallway with no other entrances or exits. The only doorway to the outside was located at the end of the hallway and was guarded by the one, Joel Miller. You continued to wrestle with sleep as you lay uncomfortably in your sleeping bag. You have now spent hours staring at the plant infested ceiling. Ellie, luckily, rests peacefully at your side. She felt safe enough to put earbuds in to help her sleep. Another thing of hers to be jealous of.

After a few hours, you decide that it will most likely be impossible for you to sleep tonight. You quietly stand and put your pajama shorts over your undies. You open the door into the hallway. It's long corridor was scarier at night. You pull your flashlight from your pocket. Clicking it on, you remind yourself that the only door is at the very front. You would undeniably see if anyone entered the dark hallway with you.

As you reach the end of the hall, you begin to hear quiet moans coming from the other side of the door. Your mind quickly rushes to the thought of a runner making their way inside. But once you hear slight heavy breathing and groans, you immediately recognize that the sounds were coming from Joel. Excitement bursts through your chest as you press your ear against the door. You could not have imagined a better sound escaping his lips. His groans sound so sweet, so supple. You wish you could be the reason they fall from his lips.

You nervously turn back to see that the door at the other end of the lengthy hallway remained close. There was no way anyone would be able to hear at the other end. Not unless they were right where you were standing. With a smile, you hear his breathing louden. You wish you could see him. See his brows pulling together as his mouth hangs open. You wish you could watch him stroking himself. You would bet on your life that his cock was large and girthy. You have been stealing glances of it beneath his tight jeans.

Your mouth starts to water as you hear his moans grow louder. It takes all your strength and will not to burst through the doorway and beg him to let you help. God, would you absolutely beg for that man - without question. You wonder who's on his mind. Who could possibly be the lucky person whom he is wanking off to? Your legs feel weak. You actually contemplate sitting down and playing with yourself alongside his intoxicating moans.

“Oh, Rita,” you hear fall from his mumbling lips. Your entire body lights up with pleasure. He is thinking about you… Your legs buckle beneath you as you struggle to stay standing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear escape his lips. He must be close. You swear you can hear the slapping against his skin. All your blood rushes towards your clit. You want him - bad.

Out of no where, Joel stops. You hear a sound of frustration but remain curious. Was he edging himself? Shit. Why is that even hotter? you think to yourself. His moans slowly start again. Your mouth hangs open as you tighten your knees together. The friction feels good but it’s definitely not enough. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would be muttering your name as your hand strokes his dick. You wish his big hands could hold your head down as you take all of him in your mouth.

Almost as though you two were connected, Joel’s moans started to repeat more and more. His breathing heavies as your knees tighten harsher and harsher against themselves. Your clit now pulsating, desperate for stimulation. You cover your mouth, hoping your own gasping breaths were not loud enough to hear in the other room.

His voice strains as he gets closer and closer. He mumbles again, “Yes, Rita.” Shit, why aren’t you already in there? Your entire body is on fire but, oh, so nervous. You hear his skin slapping against each other. His moans growing louder. You hear a bump against the wall. His voice begins to break. God, he’s so fucking close.

“Oh baby just like that,” Joel whines. “Cum for me,” you whisper on repeat. Then silence fills the air. You worry if he might have heard you. You’re sure that him catching you listening in is so much worse than you catching him jacking off. “Damn it,” he yells softly with a grunt. That’s when you realize he isn’t edging on purpose. It seems like he can’t get past that final push. To release all that pent up energy.

You could help him. You know you want to. It’s the right thing to do. He must be in so much pain - all swollen down there, thinking about you. You would be helping him. You are so selfless. With a deep breath for courage, you quickly knock and open the door.

You spot Joel in his jean shirt. His legs are spread wide while he sits, bare, on the couch. His pants wrapped around his ankles as he holds his lengthy cock in one hand. His head rests back onto his other. As he hears the door creak open, he nervously grabs hold of a pillow and covers himself. You have never once seen shock and worry on the man’s face until now.

“Shit,” he yells as he scrambles to cover himself. You play dumb, covering your gaping mouth with your hand. “I’m so sorry Joel,” you whisper. “I-I thought I heard my name so I came out here,” you slyly taunt as you end with a smirk. Joel’s usual annoyed face returns as he realizes you know the truth. “Why didn’t you just come get me?” you ask innocently as you sit on the arm rest of his couch.

Joel watches you in confusion as he recognizes your advances. “I shouldn’t have done this, I’m-” he starts. You swiftly interrupt, “No need for apologies. I’m just confused is all.” You gracefully fall beside him. Your bare thigh touching his. The tips of your fingers dance atop his thigh. His grip onto the pillow covering his unit grows tighter by the second. “I thought you didn’t care about me,” you whisper as you lean closer to his face. You are now still, a few inches from his face.

"We don't have to do this," Joel mutters. His teeth locked as he watches you. He must think he's in danger. No, its quite the opposite. "Do what, Joel?" you ask as you pull away from him. You note a chair across from him. His backpack is sprawled over it. You carefully carry the backpack and place it closer to him. To show him that you are not something to be scared of. You then turn to sit in the chair. Your legs spread open as you bite your lip. Your eyes rake over the vulnerable man in front of you.

Joel watches you. He takes in shaky breaths. It is almost as though he is more nervous, now that he understands your intent. "Don't stop on my accord," you say as you gesture towards him. You slowly cross your leg over the other, batting him off with your eye lashes. You gently laugh as you watch him sit still, uncomfortable. "Oh, I get it," you murmur with a nod. "You need help." You watch your shoulder as you slowly push your spaghetti strap off it. You do the same with the other side. When you look back at him, a smirk is shown across your face.

His eyes are darker than normal. He still holds the pillow firmly against the skin between his legs. "Don't stop, Miller," you whisper as you slowly pull your shirt up. You expose your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples immediately harden. He involuntarily bites his lip as his eyes grow full of wonder. With that, he gradually pulls the cover off and shows his enormous cock. You start salivating. Fuck, you knew it would be big.

Joel's thumb starts to move slowly up and down his shaft. His eyes now fully on you. No pulling away this time. Pleasure fills your chest as you raise your chin and open your mouth. You lick your lips, hell-bent on tasting him. He starts to smile between soft moans. His rubbing becoming quicker as your hands calmly travel up your stomach and to your tits.

His breathing shakes harder as your fingers circle your nipples. Your tongue resting gently against your bottom lip. He loves it. His moans become louder as he watches you. "Oh baby," escapes his lips as he watches your sensual movements. "The name's y/n," you whisper. You smile at the shock spreading across his face. "I want to make sure you're moaning the right girl's name this time."

"Your name's y/n," Joel mutters under his breath. His movements stop as he watches you gradually open your legs. Your shorts clearly expose your inner thighs. It shows enough to give him the slightest sneak peek. "And your name is Joel," you coo. “Does that change anything?” He scoffs. A smile spreads across his face. First time you’ve seen it and shit is it beautiful. “Not a single thing,” he mutters. “Then rub one out for me, daddy,” you whisper as your hand travels down your stomach and atop your shorts.

Joel presses his tongue against his cheek as his smile grows larger. His hand starts to rub against his hardened cock. His fingers wrapped around his girth. You bite your lip. You wish it was your hand, but you are not giving up control. “Yeah, start slow,” you murmur as you adjust in your seat. His eyes track you. His eye line at your lips, waiting for the words to just flow out.

His breathing intensifies as he drops his jaw in excitement. “Ooo, just like that,” you whisper as you try to maintain deep breaths. Your clit begins to pulsate. Begging you to jump atop of him. “What next, y/n?” he asks with a gaping mouth. He fully enunciates your name with a smirk at the end. You laugh as your brows bounce. “Hm,” you think aloud. Your finger tapping against your chin. “Have your other hand play with your balls.”

Joel’s brow raises as he’s slightly taken aback. “Don’t make me say it twice,” you playfully seethe through your teeth. He sighs with a smile as his other hand moves from atop his thigh. He cups his balls slowly. A thumb rubbing between them. You suck in a deep breath as you adjust again in your sit. You can’t get comfortable. Your body screams that the only seat you want is on his lap.

His lower jaw keeps moving as deep breaths fall from his lips. “Shit,” he breathes. His eyes close ever so slightly. “Mmm’such a good boy,” you whisper. “Let me hear you.” He gasps as the muscles in his legs begin to tighten. He lets out a low moan. One so deep your entire body shakes. You let out a hesitant breath as your hand covers your mouth. You are trying so hard to keep in control, to be the dominant one - but shit did you want him to wreck your pussy so badly.

“I know you can moan louder than that,” you murmur with a grin. Joel softly laughs and quickens his movements. His breath is fast. His eyes closed. He sits up straighter. His hand slaps against his skin. You spot precum falling from his tip. “Shit,” you mumble under your breath. His head starts to fall back. It rests against the wall. He moves faster and faster. You squeeze your thighs together, holding your breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. You could just about faint. “God, you’re going to make me cum, y/n.” You dig your nails into your thighs. You want nothing more than to see this gorgeous man cum all over himself. “Cum for me, Joel,” you whisper in excitement. Your entire body feels on fire. Goosebumps travel throughout your skin. “I want your big cock deep inside me, Joel. Please cum for me,” you gripe in an innocent voice.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel moans as his brows pull together. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter than before. You hear his voice raise in pitch. Higher and higher as his body moves faster and faster. You note him thrusting into his own hand. He looks so strong. He would feel so good thrusting inside of you. Finally, his breathing fastens and he starts to moan louder than before.

“I’m cumming. I’m cumming, y/n,” he whisper yells as his body tenses up. You immediately rush in front of him. You sit on your knees as you watch the show, up close and personal. Beads of cum stream down his elongated cock as he strokes firmly. You place much effort in keeping your hands to your sides. You watch as his breaths begin to slow.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say breathless. His eyes start to open. He lets out a gentle laugh through his smiling face. You crawl between his legs. His smile quickly falling as he curiously watches you. There you sit, his softened unit before you. “Your turn to help me, Miller,” you say as you bite your lips. His smile re-emerges as his hand pushes your shoulder back towards the ground. His body slides over you until his face hovers above yours. “Yes, ma’am,” Joel whispers as he plants a kiss on your lips so hard, yet so soft, that you completely fall head over heels for the man.

note: whatcha think? joel screams sub and fuck do i love it. also episode 3?? can someone just cry with me about that real quick? shall there be a part two? 🤫

*edit: there shall be & here it is

taglist: @fan-fiction-floozy, @dirtydianaahah

reblogs are much appreciated! feel free to comment or message if you’d like to join a tag list! 🌿✨🌿

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

[magicalqueennightmare]

I'm Yours (Pt. 2/2)

As always the Billy I write isn't Canon so no narcissistic sociopath (I can point you towards amazing writers who have Canon pieces for him)

Warnings: mention of assault,cursing and SO MUCH FLUFF

Waking up the next morning you found yourself in the exact same position you'd feel asleep in. You were laying across Billy's chest, your right arm stretched over where your fingers were touching the scars littered across his left shoulder. The soreness in your head had dulled and the bandage you knew was going to get annoying fast but the whispered confessions you and Billy both had given the night before managed to chase away the demons lurking in your mind.

He loved you, the same as you loved him. You moved just enough to let your fingertips trace the well trimmed beard that graced his jaw. You knew there was a chance of waking him but this was the first time you'd shared a bed with him and was welcome to show your admiration for him come morning. The worry of what happened at the banquet getting out snuck its way into your mind again.

Before you realized he was awake his hand moved up to hold yours against his face. You froze your movements until his dark eyes opened and he smiled at you "Don't stop on my account darling" you felt your face warm. "So I remember you waking me up a few times last night so forgive me if I already ask but what's the narrative about what happened last night?"

His eyes narrowed just a bit "I told you not to worry. Anvil isn't as important as you are" you shook your head with a small smile "Billy please" his hand moved form holding yours to wrapping around your body, holding you close to his chest "Between Karen and Mahoney the official narrative is that upon hearing of the chase with NYPD we proceeded to do a security sweep of the hall. During which one of Anvil's men ran across the perp, he attacked and they were forced to defend themselves. NYPD thanked us for our fast response and assistance"

You smiled "Good. I know you said it didn't matter but I don't want what happened to reflect bad on Anvil or the banquet. Anvil does good and the banquet always helps charities that need it" he watched you for a moment before saying "How are you feeling sweetheart and before you answer I don't mean physical. Women are resilient as hell when it comes to physical pain, I mean mental wise. That was a close call and the thought of if me and Frankie hadn't found you..."

The look in his eyes matched how you felt. What if they hadn't found you? what if you hadn't been able to outrun him? What if he'd found the knife and came after you? What if he had another weapon?

You drew yourself from those thoughts by running your hand across Billy's chest, resting it over his heart. "I've been better. The what ifs are terrifying. I'm sure the nightmares will come but unless I'm just assuming here I don't think I'll be alone in handling them. I'm not gonna act like this didn't effect me because it did and I'm sure it probably will further but I'm here and I'm here because of you and Frank. You two taught me how to fight, how to block blows. I knew all I had to do was get away from him. I knew if I got to either of you or one of your guys I'd be safe"

He shook his head "You're here cause of you. Finding you bloody, in a torn dress. God dammit I wish we hadn't had to kill him that quick" you smiled and leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He smiled into it "That's one way to distract me"

You pulled back, gently sliding your hand around the side of his neck and grinned when he closed his eyes at your touch. "I love you Billy" he opened his eyes "I love you too" you knew the smile on your face couldn't get any broader. He looked between you "I wanna kiss you but after last night I don't want to cause a trauma response"

You nodded, feeling your smile slip just slightly "Well I could always kiss you? Then I'm controlling the speed?" He raised an eyebrow "That sounds like it should work" he laughed before brushing your lips against his. You knew he'd hit the brakes before it went too far, you needed to heal but you needed to be in his arms too.

You pulled at his shoulders and he took the hint, rolling you both over to where he was hovering over you, supporting his weight on his arms. He leaned down to kiss you, tentatively testing. You hooked your arms around his neck pulling him down to you, when you slipped your tongue into his mouth he groaned against your lips but allowed you access. You rolled your tongue against his and was rewarded with the lightest of moans from him.

He pulled away from the kiss, both of your chests heaving "You have a mild concussion" he whispered as he kissed your neck gently "I know. Billy what's gonna happen between us?:" he froze with his lips against your skin "Well I was thinking we stay like this a little longer then maybe breakfast?" You groaned shoving him back "You're horrible you know that?"

He grinned, nipping at your jaw playfully before meeting your eyes "I know baby i know. Serious note? I fucking love you, I'm in love with you. I have been for a while now and it took a lot for me to not be so damn blind. What I want? Is to not have to go to sleep many more nights without you next to me. Rather we're here or at your place, hell eventually we may say screw both places and get one of our own. Every decision I've made in my life I already ran past you, every major moment in my life already involved you. Every glimpse into my future has always involved you. I know it's not conventional but when has anyone in our lives ever been? As long as you want me, I'm yours"

You smiled but remained quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. He grabbed his chest "You're killing me here" you laughed, covering his hand with yours "Like you said every major moment in our lives already involved each other. Might not be conventional but being in your arms has always been natural to me, just now I can fully enjoy it because I know the spot only belongs to me. Now come kiss me some more before we have to start our day because I'm fairly certain we don't have long before our friends will realize we're awake and will be calling to check on us"

He grinned "Yes ma'am" the moment his lips met yours your phone started ringing and he groaned "That's Frankie's ringtone ain't it?" You nodded feeling him bury his face in your neck "Damn he has shit timing" you laughed as he grabbed the phone from the nightstand and pulled it to his ear. You only caught his side of the conversation which consisted of "Yeah Kaycee seen her last night" "She gets stitches out in a couple weeks and has to have a CT scan" "We'll meet ya there"

When he hung up you raised an eyebrow when he looked up at you "I'm surprised he didn't question you answering my phone" he grinned "Frank has known for a while on my end. I'm sure Karen and Angel has known on yours" you shrugged which pulled a laugh from him "We got an hour" you groaned "I need clothes" when you spoke you remembered your dress "That asshole ruined my dress"

Billy had been watching you since he hung up with Frank and simply shook his head "I'll buy you a new one" you pulled him into a kiss which seemed to surprise him at first until he relaxed into it. When you pulled away he kissed your neck again before turning to sit up, pulling you with him. Once you were tucked against his chest and he was sitting against the headboard he admitted "Damn I could get used to this. Holding you like I want and you kissing me out the blue?:"

You cut your eyes up at him "Careful Russo sounds like you got a crush on me" "Just a small one" he teased with a smile.

[suzie-shooter]

Alex Rider season 3 unhinged liveblog ramblings scribbled during first watch. Spoilers, obvs. (also fair warning, I am not particularly a fan of Tom or Kyra lol)

Episode 1 - Widow

S2 recap trivia - Alex's therapist is Molly Doran from Slow Horses and married to Alan Blunt IRL

Malta: Ok, so we're not just going to pretend it's Venice lol.

Creepy old men already hitting on Alex. Standard.

"After this we're out of leads." How do you even have any leads in the first place? Oh ok, Smithers' phone. Terrible security protocols from him, leaving that much historical classified data on it.

"Find the Widow - surely he could have given you an address?" First thing Tom's ever said I've agreed with lmao

Aaaand within a second he's back to being deeply irritating, okay.

Yassen living rent free in Alex's head, you love to see it.

"They've got this picture of me being the responsible one." Have Tom's parents actually met him?

Ooh Razim mention.

You maybe want to clean that wound before whacking a dressing on it Alex?

"Do you think you'll ever lose your appetite Nile?" Spat my drink.

Damn, no harem pants then. Scrubs up well tho.

Listing Levin in the opening credits than having him be only a S2 flashback should be a warcrime.

Episode 2 - Lab

"This weapon is called pork sword, wait, no, shit, wrong USB."

"Julia Rothman. Definitely a wrong un." Spat my drink again.

Do Crawley and Pritchard not warrant helmets and visors? Are they somehow immune to shrapnel?

So, room 6, wired to blow, yes? It's what I'd do…

Oh yeah sure guys, they're going to still be sitting there, all unmoving in the dark, for sure that's a person, and not a Massive Trap.

Thereeeee we go. Agent mince. Top of your class huh, well you're certainly at the top now, and down the sides and partially out of the window.

I know there's the whole 'characters don't know what genre they're in' thing but you are literally in the 'working for MI6 genre', you are up against people notorious for booby traps and blowing shit up, why the fuck would you touch something that hadn't been declared safe first? Apart from anything else you're fucking up the scene before forensics get there.

"I love you man." Vom.

Alex: breaks into super sekkrit lab. Also Alex: doesn't have the faintest fucking idea what he's looking at, so not really helpful.

COMICALLY LARGE BOMB KLAXON.

Episode 3 - Enemy

"Welcome to Malagosto." OooOOooh.

Maybe I'm just looking at it from a fic writer's perspective but it does seem a massive anticlimax to immediately let Tom and Kyra know Alex is okay? Like, you could have got a good couple of episodes of angst out of that uncertainty.

"Do you want me to kill them?" Oh God yes please.

Why the fuck have they plugged the USB directly into the network rather than an isolated PC? 'Hur dur we checked it first', you literally believe Scorpia are smart enough to not be bluffing about the nebulous death threat but you don't think they could hide something on the hardware? Fuck's sake lads. Amateur hour.

Is this Home Secretary meant to be Suella Braverman? Or Priti Patel maybe lol. (Equal rights and all that, and if it had been a white male character I don't think I would have thought twice about the dialogue but having both your two new female characters be immediately proved wrong/ massively patronised/ blown up ain't hugely comfortable viewing tbh).

HOW MANY FICS INVOLVING ALEX GETTING FUCKED ON THAT BED HAVE JUST BEEN BORN?

"Are you suggesting we break into a dead man's house?" "It's not like he's going to be there." 😂

"He became a very close friend of mine." Fnar.

Omg making Alex read his father's love letters is hilarious.

Alex: you could have faked that news report Also Alex: handwriting can definitely never be faked (how is Alex even familiar with his dead father's handwriting? wouldn't recognise mine)

Ugh please stop trying to make Alex/Kyra happen.

Alex up the vent shaft. I hope they're sitting casually at the top going - you could have just taken the stairs love.

If he's climbing upwards, why is his hair dangling like he's upside down? Have they filmed this like 60's Batman, and he's just crawling along a horizontal set lol.

Alex never once asks about his mother does he. Given the shagger-John route they seem to have gone down you almost think Julia would be in a better shout of getting Alex to switch sides by claiming to be his mother.

And - yeah, Alex's recruitment just doesn't feel that convincing here. Adding Tom/Kyra/Jack so much to the mix has changed the feel of his life a lot, and TV verse Alex has had a lot less fucking over by the Department by this point too. And Rothman feels too creepy to be effectively convincing him of anything.

"I want you to meet your tutor." FUCK YES FINALLY 🙌 (may have rewound that part several times lol)

Episode 4 - Recruit

Nicaragua: 18 years ago OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENING

Baby Yassen is adorable, I'm in love.

OH MY GOD THAT'S SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE FUCKIN SPIDER THING

OH MY GOD THE REVEAL OF HIM STANDING OVER THE SLEEPING ALEX I'M DEAD

(Ok, I'm calm again. For now. We continue.)

"You killed my uncle" - all the hundreds of ways this conversation has been written over the years and Yassen's just like lol get over it 😂 (here for it tbh)

Rothman: He's one of our best Yassen: One of? Bitch.

Yassen watching Alex train like 👀👀

"Did he ever tell you you're no fun?" Oh you want to have FUN with Yassen do you?

Yassen bitchslapping Alex to fuck, both hilarious and hot.

Oh, you want to be WET wet.

"Matteo's the guy with the blanket." Why is that so funny.

Omg Yassen stepping in to protect his boy and humiliating Nile in the process lol. And Alex doing what Yassen tells him, because of course he does 🥰

"This one is my responsibility" 🥰🥰

"What about love, friendship?" Alex has only known Yassen five minutes and is already down bad.

"Kind of lonely though, right?" Yeah, Yassen needs you at his side Alex, so step up and stop being a whiny little bitch about killing people.

Never get in the first taxi, rule one of espionage.

Yep, called it. Tom's like: I'll have my fucking tip back in that case.

This scene is so dark I have no fucking idea what's going on, I thought Nile had attacked Alex, but apparently not. Is Nile officially part of this exercise or not, it seems really unclear lol.

The power of friendship and sparklerabbits saves the day, apparently. Yawn.

Jesus, we really ATE with this ep, huh.

Episode 5 - Revenge

"Would you rather your arms around me, or my arms around you?" Way to make it creepy Tom you skeevy fuck.

"Can we focus please?" "We're multi-tasking."

Sure Grendel, rock up to the super sekkrit spy base in a massively conspicuous car why don't you?

"Yassen will give you everything you need." Oh I BET he will.

Feels sloppy them not removing the diffuser from the vent tbh.

"What does this say?" Alex hasn't inherited John's neat handwriting then lol. Alex leaning into him like that > me making noises only dogs can hear.

"You've put lockpick?" "I left my last one in Nile."

Ooh, suicide pill, nasty. Kind've pointless though, given they've been left with the evidence anyway.

Yassen in Alex's bedroom again, likely place for him to be.

"I don't want you to fail. I don't want you to die." 🥹💕🥰

Yalex roadtrip, let's goooo.

Disappointed they're not making Alex do the Entrapment infrared acrobatic sequence here lol.

If this is Yassen's idea of a date it definitely needs work.

So no surprise scorpions then? Can't have shit in Detroit Malta.

"Why? Why did she kill him?" Well taking things at face value here he was a highly murderous member of a terrorist organisation, so you know, kind've her job.

Yassen does like a casual lean, doesn't he.

Episode 6 - Target

Alex and Yassen have shacked up in London, hope there's only one bed.

Now they're in the back of a van, SO many opportunities for shagging, they're spoilt for choice.

Yassen's impressed look when Alex reels off all the security details, so proud of his boy.

"What happened to my mum?" Finally he wonders lol.

"And I'm good at it. You could be too." 🥹

"You think Alex killed him?" I mean, he was also there with a notorious assassin, so probably not, y'know.

Domestic Yassen cooking Alex's dinner and also cooking him a gun lol.

Smithers' "How I've missed you" ahahaha. Smithers/Kyra much better pairing tbh.

"He's actually quite good at this stuff." Smithers' little snort lmao

Time for Alex to be blacked up/ dunked in a teabag bath/ gussied up. Although he still looks exactly like Alex afterwards, which feels less useful lol.

"You love him, don't you?" Yassen loves him more. I have to say Alex had far more chemistry with Syl, and frankly for that matter with Tom. I really don't get the Kyra agenda.

"It's a dry hole." Alex's worst nightmare.

Is Alex going to look through Mrs Jones' knicker drawer?

Episode 7 - The Shot

Mrs Jones and her tall murderous hobbit son lol. Otto really looks about 58 here.

Hope they bill him for her fucked up fridge.

Is that Bath? Oh, it is.

Mrs Jones casually throwing Alex back into play lol. Maybe she can have a little revenge for him trying to shoot her.

"Everyone breaks into houses." Jack's face lol

Ewww put him down, you don't know where he's been (Yassen's bed, almost certainly)

"Remember they can't hurt you unless you invite them in." "That's vampires."

Yassen arguing in favour of going to rescue Alex MY HEART

"Sit down. I'm going to tell you a story. About your friend, John Rider." HOLY PLOTHOLE TIMELINE PATCHING BATMAN

"John was embedded inside Scorpia for three years." Not the only thing he was embedded in by the sounds of it.

Alex seems to be hallucinating again lol.

Yassen, maybe psychoanalysing your insane boss isn't the safest thing to be doing?

"It's quite mad Julia." Yassen really gives no shits omfg

"I know my place." Yes, at Alex's side.

I like how Julia thought telling Yassen she'd killed John would do anything other than piss him off lol.

Episode 8 - Invisible Sword

"But you do owe me a new fridge." LOLLLLLL

Crawley feeling like a spare part during this lift convo, hahaha

"Smithers, you can do me some kind of tracker, right?" "Yeah, if you promise to keep it on you this time."

Alex is like ohshit I'm gonna die fr

"Not for the agents. They undid their seatbelts." Eyyyyyyyy 👉

Aww they've given him a little baby assassin outfit, how cute.

Where's Yassen, has he just fucked off to the pub?

"For the head of Scorpia, you're a really bad liar."

Laughing at all the other Scorpia agents having to listen to this convo about their boss like we are not paid enough for this shit 😬

"Everyone else is getting what they want, let me have my cereal."

Protecting his boy to the last. Yassen really is purely on Alex's side, we love to see it.🥰

And OMG HE LIVESSSSSSSS 🙌🙌🙌🙌 (I voted yes in that poll, I had faith lol)

Well that was - far more fanservice than I dared hope for, after the meagre pickings we got in the first two series. Yalex supremacy to the motherfucking end, let's go.

[anguishedlurker]

Don't Shoot; It's me! No, the other guy! (#38, fake body swap)

HI Y'ALL welcome to my ecto-imposion fic! I'm the writer of course and my wonderful artist was @astravis , and @thesilentbard plus @dragonsdomain he;ped me out with betaing! Check them all out! Buckle up, because this is just the first chapter! And maybe look at the ao3 posting

Of things Danny should have predicted, Skulker and Technus teaming up one day was going to land pretty high on the list.

It all started so normal, too! Getting multiple ghosts at once wasn’t uncommon anymore, and Skulker appearing? Must be a day that ends with Y.

Technus, though...

“I’ll pelt you yet, whelp!” Skulker bellowed, having been ineffectually brained with the remains of a lamppost.

Technus was thusly absorbing the lamppost's remains into his suit, adding yet another object that would qualify as a taser in the right circumstances.

“AND I, TECHNUS, WILL USE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO-”

“No, really, do you ever shut up?!” Danny cut him off, meanwhile diving behind the remains of- ooohhh this was that vegan place Sam liked. He was going to hear about this one for weeks.

“Your disrespect remains immeasurable, child.” Skulker growled, not wasting time in obliterating what was left of the building.

“YEAH, WHAT IS HE? CHOPPED LIVER?”

Danny didn’t pay this mind, throwing some potshots at the both of them as he skittered away for new cover.

“He’s a mecha pain in my- AAA”

We interrupt this smart comment for debris! Debris; A mark of your failure to protect.

Debris wasn’t a new threat, but regardless? That was going to bruise.

Danny was ready to punch them to paste barehanded if it’d get this fight to stop. Skulker already had a weapon making shield borderline painful to maintain against blasts, and with Technus in tow couldn’t be trusted to not get a random power-boost.

Meaning this needed to end, now!

However, “now” would have to be sometime after Technus’s blasts stopped slapping him down like an especially annoying kitten.

“Ah, finally showing cowardice whelp?” Skulker taunted, lazily aiming one of his guns as Danny darted somewhere over an alleyway.

“I prefer to call it intelligence!”

“RUNNING WILL NOT HELP YOU HERE, PEST!” Technus borderline giggled.

Clearly, Danny thought as a piece of roof exploded behind him.

… That one might’ve been that weirdo occult shop that was trying to set up without him noticing. Couldn’t say he’d miss it, if nothing else.

It was really starting to look like “damage control” meant doing some damage himself to cut this short.

He was absolutely going to hear it from Sam once he was done here, as it wasn’t like ecto-ice was easy to clean up. (God knows what's IN that Danny!)

Somewhere in the distance the Fenton GAV wailed, a bad sign for all participants.

So… one shot to do this, maybe two… Eh. He’s had worse odds before!

One last sacrificial rubble pile to buy a second, aaand-

“I DO BELIEVE WE MUST CUT THIS ONE SHORT! SKULKER, IF YOU WOULD?”

“It's a pleasure to use this new toy.”

Danny didn’t even get time to throw an icicle at them.

The rubble exploded, and then Danny exploded, flung across the street like a sack of potatoes and making several things give an upsetting crack on landing.

Screw bruising at this point, he’d be lucky if all of this managed to heal before Monday.

Note to self: Never ever let Technus Skulker pair up ever again.

“FASCINATING RESULTS!” Technus beamed as Danny groaned his way onto his feet.

“Your move, whelp.” Skulker growled, gun pointed at Danny.

“That little toy? Ha, it barely even-!”

And see, there’s many things about Danny’s powers that would never be properly explained to his friends. How intrinsic they all were by now, above all else.

A running start and pathetic hop into the air didn’t actually mean much for flying; by all accounts Danny could go from zero to sixty in a standing position.

So, the raw humiliation of that pathetic hop- intended to be a full assault launch- landing him in a kneeling position took a second to process.

It was just so impossible.

The metal on Skulkers helm twisted to a smile as the gun gave a shrill whine.

Technus giggled as he absorbed a car into his already overburdened monstrosity of a mech, clearly thinking this fight was done.

The GAV siren had never been so loud.

There was really only one choice: Run. Run for his life.

The street lit up behind him, adrenaline carrying him much faster than he had any right to be on foot.

“RUNNING AGAIN, WHELP?” Technus shouted, much too close for Danny’s liking.

“That’s Skulker’s thing!” He shouted back, at a total loss for anything witty.

“I’ve done no such thing as run, child!”

“I THINK HE MEANS THE TERM WHELP.”

Oh good, yes! Get distracted!

“Your thievery of my vocabulary will not go unpunished; yet, for now, we have our prey-”

“UNPUNISHED? WE ARE ALLIES! TO RAISE YOUR HAND IN VIOLENCE AGAINST ME NOW WOULD-”

“Not right now you imbecilic-”

The blasts behind him were slowing down immensely already, buying him a slide around a corner with enough lead to shove himself between buildings.

Still, even with this he wasn’t exactly well hidden.

His options, in this fine back alley, were… A broken mirror, two cardboard boxes, and a dumpster.

…

The dumpster was uncomfortably moist as he shoved himself in and closed the top, and the smell- is this the nasty burger dumpster??

Slowly the town map in his head adjusted. Eugh… Desperation carried him farther than he thought.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE’VE LOST HIM!?”

“The shot must have suppressed his signature. The tracker will be borderline worthless unless we are on top of him.”

Oh, good! Truly, a fair trade for his powers! And once he was done being sarcastic, probably the single blessing he’d get out of this.

“I WOULD CALL THAT EVEN LESS THAN BORDERLINE.”

“Your worthless insistence on semantics is duly noted.”

The bickering continued into the distance, followed shortly by the GAV wailing and his father pointedly screaming.

“Rotten ghosts, molecule by molecule would be too good for you!”

“Phantoms not re-appearing on the radar, but keep an eye out regardless. Who knows what cloaking tactics it’s come up with this time. To the right!” His mom warned, getting fainter and fainter (in the wrong direction) as the GAV sped after Technus and Skulker. Or wherever the altered signal was leading them.

One would think it’d only work the once...

Danny was left to contemplate the situation in silence. Nothing would get done in the dumpster, sure, but hey, uncomfortably moist? More like comfortably hidden.

But beyond that being cowards talk, he reeaallly couldn’t sit there and trust that his parents or even Valerie would pull through on this one.

Okay, well, first task; Phase out of the dumpster.

An action that should be on the same level as ‘flex your jaw’, and yet, Danny was no less uncomfortably moist in sauce juice by the end of his attempt.

The whole thing was unpleasantly reminiscent of the Fenton crammer, minus the shrinking. Powers suffocated to the vaguest wisps in the back of his skull, borderline hallucinations to his futile attempts to use them.

Still stuck in the dumpster, Danny mentally conceded to plan B; Phone a friend.

Tucker was, unfortunately, out at a tech event for the weekend. Which meant it needed to be Sam.

Sam, who was stuck appeasing her parents today in exchange for the stunt with Ms. Hoffman last week.

Somewhere in the distance shots sounded off, indicating that someone had found his two enemies.

Danny didn’t have high hopes as he popped open the dumpster lid and shakily dialed. First of all it’d require Sam to already be out of the dreaded social situation, and secondly it’d mean he got a stroke of good luck if she picked up either way.

His anxiety collapsed to resignation as the ring tone meandered on, leaving him to ignore the layers of irony and humor in his ringtone having been changed to Mystery Skulls’ Ghost.

Pink blasts flashed in the sky from somewhere distant, meaning either Vlad got involved or Valerie had shown up- one more likely than the other.

“Hi! If you don’t know who this is, you shouldn’t have called anyways, and if you do and I didn’t pick up then I’m ignoring you specifically and your voicemail better give me a good reason to call back. And Tucker, if that’s you, I’m not paying for that. You know I’m not. Stop asking. Leave a message after the-”

Danny didn’t wait any longer to hang up. No voicemail would ever be secure enough to risk actually leaving one, and leaving one wouldn’t even speed up the response time.

An especially bright pink and green flash washed over what was probably half the town, and a large crash sounded from several different points in the area.

Now down the phone a friend option, Danny elected to revisit and modify plan A by throwing his leg over the side of the dumpster instead.

You know, the lame way to exit.

None of his bones liked him as he hit the ground, the wind in his metaphorical sails really not keeping up with what he needed to be doing.

Even with the self deprecation heavily suppressed, the situation didn’t really brighten outside of the dumpster. How, precisely, would boxes aide him here? Box Ghost was still pretty peeved over the whole cardboard-boxes-dissolve-in-water solution...

A thoughtless attempt to transition between forms left a suspiciously glass-like popping noise to ring in his ears and leave him fallen face-first onto the ground.

The most intact piece of mirror sat across him, dimly processing as unsafe for workers to be near as the gerbil controlling intelligent thought in his head took a smoke break.

… Seriously, why not have just tossed the thing into the dumpster itself? It’s right there!

The gerbil returned from its smoke break as Danny took in his reflection somewhat, the wheel powering his thoughts creaking back to life.

The crammer had slowly stripped him of every Phantom attribute until only Fenton remained, while right now the present cause to all his woes seemed to have merged his clothes straight down to his hoodie and left every other feature untouched.

It was… weird.

And deeply irrelevant, actually. He needed to either try calling Jazz (ugh) or haul himself home to see if he can’t glue a solution together (different ugh).

Time to shove himself back up to kneeling and pick the gravel out of his teeth (hrng).

While he was at it, it might be a good idea to start a list of cameras that’d need their footage wiped. Even if Fenton’s clothes weren’t incriminating he just didn’t need-

There was an ecto gun by his head, the safety giving a click as it was turned off.

“Would you like to beg?”

He knew that voice- by god did he know that voice. Valerie had to be on that hoverboard just out of his field of view.

He had to have missed some sort of movement while slumped forward by the mirror- it’s not like he wasn’t in enough pain for reality to start blurring.

But that didn’t help, did it? Because he was readily identifiable as Phantom to a girl who wanted half of him dead(er), with zero powers or wit to throw at the situation that wouldn’t just get him shot faster.

But what would help!? She didn’t have any interest in listening to Phantom, barely had any in listening to Fenton, though her lethal intent would at least be lower!

Somehow, someway, the gerbil in his head clipped through the wheel's geometry and resolved to never return.

“Don’t shoot, Val, it’s me! Danny!”

The gun got MUCH louder in response

“Well, Danny Phantom, I think knowing my name-”

“N-No! Fenton!”

He could hear the dial-up noises in Valerie's head, he himself stuck on trying to process how royally he just screwed himself over.

“Let’s suppose, for just one second here, that I don’t believe that.”

“L-look Val, belief doesn’t have much to do with the fact that I’m like, super harmless right now. Literally what would I gain by telling you that?”

He could feel her eyes stare even harder, dissecting his identity in this new light.

“Time.”

Well, he had a good run…

The alleyway promptly exploded, leaving Valerie to skitter off to who knows where as she swore worse than any adult Danny had had the displeasure of listening to.

Danny himself was left hyperventilating in the dust, promptly hopping back into the dumpster and burying himself in the worst effort towards hiding he’s probably ever managed.

“I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE HIGHLY UNLIKELY FOR HIM TO HAVE HIDDEN HERE.”

“Disappointing, and unexpected. The chase is far more important, but what distracted her?”

“I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS TO MATTER. YOU MAY HAVE SAID PRACTICALLY ON TOP, BUT I THINK AT THIS POINT IN THE ALLEY IT’S SAFE TO SAY HE’S NOT-”

“Move it or lose it, socket-licker. One of our high value targets is running.”

“YOU ARE ONE TO TALK, SHORTSTOCK. INSULTS ASIDE, I WAS GETTING THERE.”

Skulker’s “No, you weren’t. And you’re lucky we’re working together you-” got fainter as the two continued to completely miss his idiot self hidden just under the surface of two tonnes of food slime.

This was now the second time Danny was in the same dumpster, and honestly? He STILL didn’t want to leave!

He couldn’t cave to the desire this time either- trying to out his identity to Valerie in a last ditch effort to save his hide was officially going to go down as one of his dumbest decisions ever.

He couldn’t even think of anything funny his friends would mock him with this time. It was stupid all the way down.

Feet to the ground, eyes peeled for enemies- gone for now.

Time to unbend his pride and beat his mile run record while trying to call Jazz. Hey, multitasking!

He was going to lose his mind over this one. Even without his personal missteps this was bad.

“Hi, this is Jasmine Fenton! Hopefully I can get back to you soon, but for now, please leave a message after the-”

Click.

Two options, he pondered as he did a running slide past the corner grocery store.

One: Jazz was doing tutoring and had her phone off.

Or, possibly, two: Their parents loaded her onto the GAV and didn’t take no for an answer.

He didn’t hear her earlier trying to scream advice in an attempt to circumvent the danger their parents posed to everyone, but was it even a Tuesday for her to be busy with tutoring? Or maybe she does tutoring on Thursdays…

None of it mattered obviously. He had to get to Fenton Works ASAP.

There wasn’t strictly much that could help him, but he couldn’t imagine anything going even more wrong by using the splitter to try and get some part of him functioning again.

At worst, he’d have two people to drive the Speeder so he/they could gun it to Frostbite and see what could medically be done.

This totally didn’t gloss over every logistic and science issue ever, no sir!

And even if it did, what kind of options was he supposed to come up with right now!?

One more cut through an alleyway and Danny was in the home stretch towards Fenton works.

This moment was of course the same one a massive crash and crunch of metal sounded off a block away. Maximum.

Before he’d had the saving grace of a hiding spot. Now? Not so much! All it’d take was for Skulker or Technus to remember that they could fly above buildings and-

Well there went his survival odds!

The second after, Valerie flew above their heads, shooting down at them even as they launched onto his street.

And, for as distracting as she was, he couldn’t say his odds just got any higher.

Danny nearly took the door off its hinges trying to get in faster than anything could shoot at him, barely in before the street was awash in pink and green.

Just because he knew he couldn’t get blamed for this (mostly) didn’t mean the sense that he was so dead over this stopped creeping in.

“I, TECHNUS, WOULD LIKE TO REMIND YOU THAT-” Technus screamed, caving the door in with a broken lamppost, Technus himself soon followed suit, seeming to have shed most of his mecha well before the door- though he was losing more in an effort to get in with ease.

“If this is about the extended car warranty-!” Danny shouted back, trying to bolt for the basement. Or literally any of the house defense buttons- screw that they’d target him too!

“I WOULD NEVER SINK TO SUCH LEVELS, PEST!” Technus cut him off, the severed mecha parts bursting into and spreading wires and metal throughout the house in seconds.

Skulker didn’t waste time squeezing through besides Technus, grinning even as he was focused solely on the street outside.

“The basement.” Was all Skulker said before the option was gone from him, tangled in too much metal and wire to ever think about it again.

Danny wasn’t going to get time to think about this one, bolting upstairs instead as the door frame exploded into pink.

“All of you-”

Valerie interrupted herself with a gunshot to Technus.

“, rat bastards! No respect for-”

Skulker, now.

“anyone or anything! This is a house!”

Danny, now. He could feel it burn through both his shirt and suit even as he passed the last few steps to the second story.

Thank god for adrenaline.

Dashing down the hall as Technus and Skulker both roared into action, he performed the best running leap he’d ever managed to grab and pull the chain for the ladder.

Of course, having leapt for this privilege in a house meant for his dad meant he kept sailing through the air as the ladder slammed down behind him.

That was fine! Valerie was still distracted, just roll and climb! So easy.

So easy to corner himself on a roof with no options except to jump if he wanted off.

The fight continued on beneath him as he stared over the side, his world totally silent otherwise.

Grasping for inane details in the hopes one would matter, he saw nothing of use.

The day was bright, and clear. The town was quiet. If he turned slightly, he could pretend the wake of destruction didn’t exist.

But then he’d be ignoring the wires spilling out his front door, a shell of a car deposited in the center of the street- seeming to host most of the mess as a battery.

Valerie swore worse than ever below.

Nothing could help him right now. He was stuck either standing or jumping.

Or well, maybe he could at least do something about the gaping wound in his side… that might be good.

Slowly and carefully he stripped his hoodie off, noting that the hole was smaller than he’d been mentally giving it credit for.

His side still dripping as he dropped it unceremoniously, he realized that this was a dumb plan and that he couldn’t do anything anyways.

His side wasn’t a spot he could tourniquet. Pressure only helped so much in ghost form, as even with bones he was notably more squishy(?) than a normal human.

The fighting paused for one brief moment, before getting ten times worse, Valerie inadvertently teaching him new slurs for ghosts.

Danny looked over the edge of the building again, reaching for his pocket with a prayer.

…

“Hi, this is Jas-”

Click.

…

“Hi! If you don’t know-”

Click.

…

…

“You have reached this 🌟Too Fine🌟 of a voice mail-”

One last click off, phone thusly tucked back into his pocket.

Danny stood alone over what was closer to a three story drop than a two story drop (stupid vaulted ceilings…), and quietly sat on the edge as the fight below went silent and stayed silent.

Hand to his side regardless of if it’d help, he watched the car-battery-wire mess power down and simply waited.

Sure, he could jump, but the adrenaline was winding back down. He was already hurt, bad, in multiple ways. Valerie could fly and right now he couldn’t. There was nowhere on the street to hide and even if there was plenty of places the street over he wouldn’t get that far.

He was dead meat any way he went.

He could hear the ladder clack behind him as Valerie hauled herself up.

“What a surprise! All nice and ready for me.” Valerie huffed, immediately standing at the ready with a gun. Danny only just copped a glance before turning back towards the view.

Odd, no suit nor hoverboard. Maybe Technus had managed to hit her just right and made it shut off.

“Yeah. They go through the portal at least?” He asked, barely looking back as he gripped his side a little tighter.

“And here I- what? Um. Yeah, to my knowledge.” Valerie stuttered slightly, the earnestness of his question seeming to trip her worse than Danny’s previous bomb drop.

“Good. Lock the portal when you go back down. My parents will probably open it up by next week, but hey! Stops everything for now.”

Her steps towards him slowed to a crawl, and he could sense the caution and the suspicion even as she continued regardless.

God, he was really doing this. It occurred that he could still just shove himself off the edge, but he couldn’t think of anything that could possibly solve. Guns can be pointed over roof edges.

“Uh. Thank. You? B-But no uh, tricks or-”

She stopped by his side, gun still pointed as her eyes tracked across the roof for the surprise that simply must be coming.

“Valerie, I’m really sorry you think I could ever hurt you, but I’m out. Injured and done. It’s you or it’s splatting on the pavement. Dunno how much bounce back I’ve got left right now.”

“Any last… uhm-”

This is a super stupid way to die. But he’s pretty sure he’ll be a grease stain if he jumps, which is even stupider.

“I guess... Tell Sam, Tucker, and Jazz not to beat themselves up over it.” He hummed, finally looking at Valerie again.

He wondered how much of this mess the town behind him was seeing.

The gun shook silently before lowering and turning away.

“You are him, aren’t you?” Valerie asked softly, gun already dropping from her hands.

The gun dropped with an uncomfortable clatter as Danny gave the least shaky and uncomfortable smile he could manage, Valerie's eyes not even seeing him as she fixated on his stained hoodie.

“Phantom was never this sweet.”

Valerie clearly hadn’t focused on the words, so lasered onto her revelation that Danny’s brief twitch was entirely missed.

He couldn’t even be insulted right now; there was a certain amount of venom their fights had always had.

Silence extended further as Valerie only barely looked back up at him, still shaken.

“Thanks, I think. But uh. What now?” Danny asked, genuinely not sure. He just had to accept that insults to his other half could be addressed later.

How a reveal would go had always haunted him slightly, and this was probably a better ending than most of the realistic ones.

But even then, those fantasies always ended when she understood.

Valerie snapped to at the question, standing straight and returning to her facade of confidence.

“Helping. How’d they even do this to you?”

“Technus made Skulker a new gun, I think. It goes downhill from there.”

Carefully, Danny slid himself back onto the roof. He was struck with the sense that sudden moves would still get him killed, somehow. This was.. Too easy, almost.

Anxiety or not, the pain was also holding him back.

“Figures that those assholes would do this. Don’t suppose there’s an obvious way to fix this?”

“Not really? I mean… there might be something in the basement to help, but outside of that it’s not like I’ve got options beyond to sit here and suffer. Maybe see if Frostbite knows anything.”

“The basement, huh… Oh, thaaat’s why Skulker growled something out about it. Maybe we can-”

The GAV started wailing again, suddenly.

The offending vehicle was only streets away, and if he focused hard enough he could almost hear his dad yelling about having fixed something or other.

Farewell pain, hello adrenaline!

He was going to be so sick after today. He could just feel it.

“Bail!” He shouted, running back towards the ladder.

“What!?”

“Do you trust my parents not to shoot on sight!?”

The look of fear was immediate.

“Oh, god! Bail!”

In total agreement it was borderline a fight for the ladder and to get down to the first floor.

The wires hadn’t disappeared, leaving them precariously stood on the mess next to the kitchen.

“What’s your plan, Danny?! It’s their house!” Valerie hissed, eyeing him and the wires cautiously.

“WINDOWS ARE ALWAYS FAIR GAME!” He screeched, launching into the kitchen.

The voice of doubt in his head pointed out that it was incredibly lame for all his best executed moves for today to be so fundamentally stupid in nature.

Regardless, lifting the stand mixer and tossing it through the back window in one single uninterrupted motion, punctuated by the shattering of glass, was probably the smoothest thing he’d do today.

“YOU COULD HAVE OPENED THE WINDOW-”

“NO WE COULDN’T HAVE!” Danny yelled back, already launching himself through the opening regardless of potential cuts.

“WHAT?” Valerie screeched back, lingering before following suit.

“The Fenton Family Home Defense System locks the windows upon activation, with or without shutter activation! Even when it turns back off they’re stuck until you do a manual unlock!”

He was already bounding through the backyard, sailing himself over the fence without a second thought.

“Danny, in what world does that make sense!?”

Valerie was close behind.

“The one where my parents designed it! And the one where you’d then be stuck in a house with more weapons than people!”

“Danny, your parents are still nuts for locking-!”

“Losing battle! Pick and choose! Keep running!”

Valerie’s laugh was clear, like bells as they continued across town.

The stress was obviously getting to her- yet it was almost infectious. This was insane!

Eventually, well after they’d gone from a residential area back to business, he was yanked into a new back alley, Valerie still grinning as she caught her breath.

“And what about the door?”

“Also locked.”

She missed a beat before speaking again.

“So, what, not even the doors work until you do a system reset? That’s stupid.”

Danny had to laugh at himself right now.

“No, I just don’t remember the passcode! That door is pretty normal.”

“But you can’t leave without a code from the inside?”

“Normal for my house!” He giggled.

They were left with wheezing laughter over a near miss that wasn’t that funny to begin with.

Eventually Valerie’s hand left his shirt collar, moving to push him back slightly. Intimacy time over.

“Okay, Danny. Your parents are nuts and we don’t trust them not to shoot. Where are we going?”

“Well I could always hide in a dumpster again, but outside of that I don’t have any ideas. Sam’s busy and Jazz… well, is it Tuesday or is it Thursday, actually?”

Valerie gave him the blankest look imaginable for his question.

“It’s Saturday.”

… Well then!

“Okay, well, Jazz is tutoring. Probably. So she’s busy.”

“And Tucker, since you seem to trust your friends with this one?”

... What?

“Uh. At a tech camp somewhere in-”

“Got it. The basement might help, you said?”

Right, back to topic.

“I cannot stress that ‘might’ part enough. We’ve got a lot of weird stuff down there that’s come in handy in really stupid ways before.”

“Okay, well, that’s not great. You got an idea on how to get your parents out of the house?”

“Not in the slightest.” He admitted, shrugging as he spoke.

“Superb. Just fantastic. Okay, maybe we could camp at my place for an hour? At least until... or. Hm.”

Valerie finally lost her focus on him, looking to the side in thought.

Danny had to give credit where it was due that they were screwed in a different way, now.

Valerie’s fast turn saved his hide so he was certainly much farther than he thought he’d get, but there wasn’t much they could throw at his parents to make them disengage with the mess of wires Technus left behind. It was now valuable research material, at best.

Delightful.

“My place is probably for the best. Christ, that’s a distance to go.” Valerie muttered.

“Not to interrupt, but yeah actually. How are we getting there? Is your suit broken, or…?”

“Broken is a strong word. It self repairs, but yes, I’m grounded right now. And though I care about you, the huntress getting seen towing Phantom would not be good.”

There it was again, slighter than before but still present. The slight dissonance in how the situation was getting viewed.

Easy to shrug and move on though, right?

He probably shouldn’t.

“So… not to-”

“Look, we need to start moving. You’ve got a hat or something?”

“Man, I wish.”

“Okay, okay… shitty question, but Phantom can fly. Obviously. What can you do right now…?”

Uh.

“Uh. Nothing? Look, the blast- I think… Sorry, but what do you think happened? I just-”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed a touch in preemptive insult.

“Calling my explanation the abridged version gives it too much credit! I just want to make sure you understand what happened, and what you’re asking??”

Best cover he could’ve used, honestly.

Valerie cringed in on herself, obviously realizing something.

“Uhm, sorry, I didn’t mean to… Look, sorry. I know being in his body is probably really weird? But my place is over in Elmerton, and it’d be really helpful if one of us could… I’m sorry.”

She’d dodged the real question, but still managed to give the answer Danny needed.

In… this body…?

Oh. Oh boy.

[howtofightwrite]

Hello! I have a very particular sort of scene that I've been trying to get right for over ten years now and I can't make it work; I hope perhaps you can help.

A husband and wife duo who have Mixed Feelings about one another are trying to break out of a facility. (He was recently discovered to be a spy, she is a conscripted soldier in the facility. She was sent to escort him to execution but hesitated - I'm not sure where, in the cell, in the hall? - and - he took advantage of this hesitation? she was arrested as a traitor? - I don't know that either, yet - and they end up running through the halls together to escape)

The facility is vaguely sci-fi; think Star Wars Original Trilogy-style weapons, and there is space travel, but technology isn't... wildly advanced. Like it's not all digital and holograms and hand-wavey stuff, it's only a little more advanced than what we have available now. (Like SW OT.)

Point A is them in the cell. Point B is them on a spaceship breaking free.

I cannot get them from Point A to Point B with any kind of plausibility, or without staggering incompetence on the part of the soldiers and commanders in the facility.

They would likely be armed with only her sidearm, unless they happened to grab rifles off of further escorts sent with her?

I'm sorry this is so vague, thank you in advance for any help!

Personally, I’m of the opinion that any scene that’s been marinating in the brain for a long time (especially for years) has deeper structural/internal issues than just putting together action. Just from reading your question, I can feel the way you’ve laid this specific scenario out breaking your own suspension of disbelief. You’ve got several problems that have built up over time and, now, they’re all working against you.

Change if it’s Not Working

One of the best pieces of writing advice I ever got came from being forced to memorize my martial arts school’s Ten Steps to Mastery as part of my first test for black belt. I only remember the first five and I can’t guarantee they’re all in order.

Set a goal

Take action

Pay attention to detail

Practice, Practice, Practice

Change if it’s not working

Regardless of whether you’re practicing a front kick or writing a full length novel, flexibility is important. The more we try to force something to work, the less likely it will. Training flaws into your technique means they’ll be more difficult to correct later. So, don’t forget to stop and look at the larger picture if you feel yourself getting stuck.

Remember, change isn’t failure. Writing is a complex process and not every idea, plotline, character moment, or scene is going to work out when fit into a larger context. And that’s okay.

Outside emotional exhaustion and stress, my writer’s block kicks in when I’ve taken a wrong turn in the narrative or am avoiding a difficult emotional moment that my characters need to face before their story can progress. Something has made me/them uncomfortable and instead of facing it, I’m attempting to avoid the uncomfortable feeling by throwing some other distracting piece, usually action, in the way. I call these moments false notes. I usually hit them when I’m coming at the story from an external perspective (what have I seen other characters do in other stories/films?) rather than an internal one. (What would this character do?)

If something isn’t working, stop trying to make it work. Instead look for what you’re missing, and where the pieces aren’t connecting. It’s usually further back than the scene you’re working on.

My characters are always right. I’m either not listening or going about it the wrong way.

Food for thought.

Your Heroes are Reactively Active

We hear a lot from the writing community about the importance of Active Characters. These are characters who are doing things to move the plot forward. They make choices. They take action. Then, there are passive or, what I like to call, reactive characters. They are characters who react to things in their environment, whatever that is, but they’re not actively making choices. Passive characters get a bad rap in American storytelling tradition (more so than in the wider Western storytelling tradition.)

Passive characters really shine when working with characters who are in settings where they’re struggling to survive. In the real world, passivity is one of the best ways to survive abuse. Any victim of long term or systemic abuse can tell you that standing up and fighting back, especially in situations where you have no power or means to change your circumstances, makes the situation exponentially worse. You’ve got to gray rock it out, suppress, and survive.

Lastly, there are characters I like to call reactively active. These are characters who feel like they’re being active but are actually just reacting to actions taken by other characters. They appear a lot in YA Fantasy, but they’re everywhere. And, because these characters are always reacting to another character’s (usually the villain’s) actions and choices, they get an easy out when it comes to escaping narrative consequences for the things they do. It’s a deceptive sleight of hand used to maintain a character’s moral purity. These characters appear active on the surface, but, underneath, they’re passively reacting to the narrative events inflicted on them. They don’t take action. They respond to action with action.

Let’s get back to your scenario.

We have a husband and wife in some sort of heavily or, at least, decently fortified, military installation. The husband has been outed as a spy, put in whatever functions as a prison or holding cell within the complex, and scheduled to be executed. The wife is a loyal soldier who must now choose between her love for her husband and her love of duty.

This has the makings of some good drama.

The first obvious problem point is that these characters are trying to do too many things at once. They’re coming to terms with their deep feelings of betrayal, experiencing a last minute change of heart, making a snap decision to escape, and rapidly coming up with a plan to escape in the heat of the moment. If this feels unbelievable, it’s because it is and, even better, doubles for putting the characters in a reactive or passive state. The wife character isn’t acting, so much as she’s reacting last minute to the immediate, impending danger. That would be fine if she wasn’t also having to help carry the burden of coming up with The Plan.

There’s the surface level here, where the last minute change of heart is mimicking the kinds of behavior seen in countless other forms of media regarding escape scenes. However, this narrative decision happening in the heat of the moment is also allowing the character to skate over the emotional consequences of her own betrayal. She’s not choosing so much as she’s being forced to make a choice. And that is removing her agency.

If she makes the choice earlier, starts putting The Plan in place with the help of some friends/colleagues (even if it happens largely off page) then executes at the cell, she takes back her agency and retains her status as an active character.

The difference here is in the processing time. Characters can’t plausibly escape fortified lock up without a plan or, really, The Plan.

The Narrative Structure of Last Minute Rescues

The first problem in your scenario is that you have two characters, neither of which are doing the pre-planning legwork required to successfully execute The Plan. Rescues are like heists, they either take a village or require characters who are extremely meticulous and actively manipulating the village to fill in the gaps. (James Bond does Option 2 beautifully, but even he has a team behind him.) Usually, both happen to some degree. The burden is segregated out into different pieces for different characters. Normally, there’s at least three. The character locked up is trying to figure out a way to escape, but comes up short. The one on the outside who is putting together the pieces needed to execute the rescue/get away. And, sometimes, the one on the inside who is experiencing a change of heart, who, at the very last minute, turns heel and assists with the rescue (most often in the turn of misfortune where a piece fails and the rescue is at risk of being bungled.)

All of this additional weight/build up/expectation of the non-existent plan is being put on two characters and crammed into a single scene.

Think about the rescue of Princess Leia from the Death Star for a moment. How many characters are required to make that escape work?

Seven.

All of them. If a single character in the entire group is missing, the whole thing falls apart. Even Threepio is necessary, mostly because Artoo can’t talk. This off the cuff, by the seat of our pants rescue requires all seven characters and they still end up bungling it to kill their samurai master.

You need one to turn off the tractor beam so they can actually escape. (Doing the real work.)

You need one to figure out where the princess is being held, unlock the doors, and figure out where they are.

You need two to bullshit past the guards going in and one to pretend to be a prisoner.

You need one to bullshit past the guards a second time to save the one that can’t talk with the floor plan.

You need the princess to be the one to get them back out because she’s the only one with balls.

And none of it mattered because the escape was a trap all along.

While you don’t need these specific roles for everything, escaping from a heavily fortified facility is not a two man job. That’s where the feelings of implausibility and extreme incompetence are coming from. There aren’t enough characters helping to clear the way or be there as a safeguard for when things go wrong. This feeds into the next problem.

Soldiers, Spies, and Their Squads

We have another unintended scenario brewing at the same time. And that’s the exhausted retail employee going on a rampage and slaughtering their surprised colleagues. This really knifes your tension. By reacting to the immediate danger, the wife is not making an active, conscious choice with full knowledge of the consequences, and those consequences are killing people she knows, respects, is friends with, shares a camaraderie, or who are at least familiar to her. These other soldiers aren’t faceless goons. It’s a lot harder to pull the trigger on someone you know than someone you don’t, especially someone who has the same values that you do.

Soldiers aren’t characters who work alone. They have a squad. They’re part of a unit. They have a support network surrounding them that allows them to do their job to the best of their ability. Spies are the same way. They also have a support network which allows them to act to the best of their ability, even when it feels like they’re acting alone. Spies have handlers and they have assets, their job requires they build their own support networks so they have someone who can get into the places where they can’t. Those people may be witting or unwitting assets but they’re still there.

Both of these characters should have fairly extensive support networks to fall back on when in crisis. They’re in crisis. The crisis is both physical and emotional. Where are their people? Two characters who are social archetypes whose jobs and survival during wartime are reliant on building trust and skillful communication have no one willing to put their lives on the line to help them out? They only have each other? That’s staggering incompetence.

Spies aren’t assassins. They’re social animals. Soldiers aren’t lone wolves. They’re social animals. If there’s a structural failure here, it’s happening with your secondary characters.  Ignoring the importance of secondary characters is a mistake that a lot of new writers make and I can feel those early mistakes being carried forward in this scene. This is what Hemingway meant when he said, “kill your darlings.” If an idea isn’t working, if it’s holding you back, kill it. Look at the problem and your work from a new angle. One good line or one good scene, regardless of your emotional attachment to it, doesn’t outweigh the entire work.

Plans and Floor Plans

If you’re having trouble coming up with a character’s escape, step back and take a look at the facility itself. Whether it’s breaking in or breaking out, you, the author, need to have a clear visualization of the entire picture so you can find the weaknesses or fracture points.

Plans are easier to conceptualize when you know what the dangers are and what defenses have been put in place to prevent what your characters are attempting. Which parts of the fortress are better fortified than others? Where does this military expect to be attacked? What have they done to prevent it? What are the patrols? Who are the techs? How does the military support itself while fending off attempts to damage its resources? Who handles the supply lines?

The boring minutiae of your world is what makes it feel real. Action is dependent on your world building and this goes deeper than just their weapons. The social systems in place guide how your characters fight. It’s there in how they perceive their environment, and how they recognize usable tools. If you build a functional and consistent world, the action will take care of itself because violence is a natural response to environmental threats. Violence seeks to exploit established systems, to gain an advantage over them. If the violence is imagined separately from the environment, the violence won’t feel real because it’s not reactive and it’s not reacting to environmental stimuli. From there, it’s not logical.

Ask yourself, why do we use guns?

Then ask yourself, why do your characters use guns? What does it allow them to do that they wouldn’t be able to do otherwise? Or, what does the gun do better than other weapons that makes it the preferred choice?

The answer for the real world and your setting might be the same, and they might be different. Both will influence how the character uses their weapon. How they use their weapon guides how they fight. If you’re lost, ask yourself questions.

For example, let’s take a last look at the prison.

Prisons are built with the expectation of keeping multiple people contained for an extended period of time, preventing them from leaving in the event of an escape, and preventing those who are sympathetic from breaking in to rescue them. What have the characters in your setting (not your protagonists) done to facilitate that goal? What safeguards have been put in place to prevent someone from leaving and entering?

In the real world, prisons are built in a way that two people can’t just walk out. There are points of entry and exit that are designed to be remotely controlled from secure locations and cannot be operated or accessed on the ground. You’d need someone (like R2-D2) who can access the remote functions to get someone past the exits that they can’t open themselves.

-Michi

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