#My first Julie's on paper with a PEN

[carou-sol]

Some silly Julie's

#I'm so proud of them #My first Julie's on paper with a PEN #NO PENCIL #welcome home #welcome home julie joyful #julie joyful #welcome home julie #julie welcome home

[landosjpg]

boy next door | ln

the one where you come home to a sticky note under your peephole.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: none!

notes: just a little blurb that has been sitting on my drafts for a while. i also have a rough draft for a part two because i feel like this didn't have enough lando, so let me know if you'd like me to go through it! not proofread

it was the beginning of july. the warm sun of monte-carlo kissed your skin as you walked your way back to your apartment, grocery bags in both your hands.

you had moved into your new house only a few weeks ago, finally being able to rent your own place and not depend on your parents' money anymore after two years of saving all your job's worth. it felt good, having your own place, even if sometimes it felt a little lonely. but you kept telling yourself that you just had to get used to it, give yourself some time to adapt to your new life.

however, you sighed contently as you stepped into the elevator; in the matter of a few minutes you would be finally resting in the comfort of your new couch for the first time that day. it had been a long day at work, and unfortunately, it was only tuesday. which meant you still had the whole week ahead of you.

while making your way to your apartment through the long corridor, you thought about what you'd make for dinner that night, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion the second your eyes caught a glimpse of something unfamiliar on your door. you walked towards it and left the bags you were carrying on the floor, one of your hands reaching for the sticky note right under the peephole.

"beautiful singing. bit old-fashioned, tho" the note read, a smiley face accompanied the message.

you read the words carefully, the confusion that you had first felt when you saw the piece of paper fading away with a chuckle. you took the bags from the floor and finally opened your door, the note still between your fingers when you made your way back to the couch after having put your groceries down in the kitchen.

you read it again and again as your head rested on one of the fluffy pillows of your couch. you had been singing your lungs out that very morning, right before leaving for work. but you thought nobody lived in the apartment next door. at least, you hadn't seen —or heard —anyone during the few weeks that you had been living there. but to be fair, you hadn't encountered that many neighbors during your little time in your new home.

for a few minutes, you thought about if you should answer with another silly note. it was a lighthearted joke, whoever had written those words couldn't mean any harm. and maybe that could be your opportunity make some friends around the neighborhood.

after a few minutes of considering wether it was a good idea, you sighed and got up from the comfort of your couch and walked to your room, lazily sitting in front of the little desk. a sticky note right under your nose and a pen between your fingers.

a long sigh of defeat left your lips as you leaned back against the chair. you had wasted a good fifteen minutes and way too many sticky notes to count at that point, and you still hadn't come up with a decent answer.

nothing sounded good enough to you. too rude. too dumb. too immature.

why was it that hard to just write down some stupid words? you wanted to make a good impression, to whoever that was.

"britney spears will never be old-fashioned. but i'll try to sing something that might be more to your liking next time."

you read it once again. you weren't completely satisfied by your choice of words, but you knew you wouldn't come up with anything better, and you had already wasted half of your sticky notes.

you decided not to give the matter any more thought and left your bedroom again, ready to end your night with a shower and something nice for dinner, feeling the exhaustion from the day starting to kick in, your body feeling heavy already.

୨୧

your smile lit up when you walked to your front door after another tiring day at the office, noticing how there was a new sticky note placed to the same spot where you found the first one the previous evening.

that morning, you had decided to stick your own note under the peephole of the apartment next door. and truth was, you weren't really expecting an answer. but there it was: the same handwriting thar made you chuckle once again, trapping your lower lip between your teeth as you read what it said.

"already doing a good job, loved today's setlist."

and with that, a few days passed as you kept exchanging silly notes with your mysterious neighbor.

until one night, you came home to a sticky note in your door with only a few numbers written on it. you were quick to add the number to your contact list.

"was communicating through notes too old-fashioned for you?" you sent the text without thinking too much about your words and patiently waited for a reply that didn't take long to arrive.

that was the first text of the many that followed, the note exchange that at first seemed dumb, quickly turning into long sleepless nights in which your smile only grew wider with each reply you got from lando.

of course, the second a few facts about himself slipped through his texts, you immediately knew who he was. it was only natural, your dad always had been a big racing fanatic, so you knew a thing or two about it. but you never expected him to be as nice.

despite of texting back and forth, often using your phone on the sly at work just for your face to bright up the second his notification popped up, you two never saw each other. with your tight schedule and him being away for work a lot of the time, it wasn't easy.

not that any of you had mentioned actually meeting up, of course, but you found yourself thinking about the scenario a few times before going to sleep.

and all of the sudden you found yourself laying on your couch on a saturday night, having canceled on all your friends just to stay in and talk to the boy who hadn't left your mind ever since you saw that stupid note on your front door.

"i'd rather have some rest," you told them. “this week has been exhausting anyway." but you weren't as tired as you made it seem. not even close.

and so, after putting on some comfy clothes, you lied on the couch and turned your tv on, ready to put some movie as background noise while you texted with lando.

"any plans for tonight?" he suddenly asked. the question didn't catch you by surprise, he often asked what were you up to.

"movie and food delivery." you almost immediately answered, and while you waited for a reply, you scrolled through netflix looking for something that would catch your eye.

after a few minutes, you checked your phone. nothing yet. in fact, he had left your message on read. that wasn't quite like him.

you frowned and before you could send another text, your doorbell rang. you sighed and got up, lazily walking to the door and expecting your friends behind it, ready to force you to go out with them.

your eyes widened when, instead, you saw the brit standing in front of you with messy, curly hair and a hoodie over his head despite of being the middle of summer. he had some snacks in his hands and he was smiling down at you.

you were speechless, not having expecting him just to show up at your door like that.

"what movie are we watching?" he asked with a bright smile, inviting himself inside.

click here for part 2 :)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine

[meazalykov]

Good Game, Sal

Salma Paralluelo x Barca!Reader

summary: are they enemies, or lovers?

Salma Paralluelo and I, both rising stars of Barcelona's Femeni team, shared more than just a common jersey; we shared a rivalry that burned hotter than the Catalan sun on a July afternoon.

Salma, with her quick footwork and innate goal-scoring abilities, was a product of La Masia, Barcelona's renowned youth academy. Her journey to the top seemed paved with gold, crowned by her recent triumph in the World Cup with the Spanish national team. Me, on the other hand, hailed from a humbled path, I considered my talent raw and untamed, molded through sheer determination and grit.

Growing up in the United States, I’ve played through many unknown summer leagues, clubs mainly filled with boys, school teams, and futsal in the winter months before I put the pen on paper with Washington Spirit at the age of 15. 

After four great years with building my talent, creating new friendships, and enjoying my life in the United States Capital, my contract was expiring. 

Washington Spirit offered me a renewal, but Barcelona contacted my agent with a proposal that sent my jaw dropping to the floor. The Catalan Club was my dream club while growing up. I’ve admired Alexia Putellas, Ronaldinho, Messi, and Xavi for years. So I followed my heart and denied another four years in Washington DC, so I can accomplish my dream. 

However, I had to put in hard work when I arrived in Barcelona. This challenge was needed, since the challenge to score on the pitch fuels my passion. However, I didn’t expect a rivalry to happen WITHIN the club rather than the opponents I’ve played against.

First, it was a constant competition for playing time. Overtime, I’ve thought that I harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Salma, envying her success, her effortless grace on the pitch. 

Against Madrid CFF, my debut game in September, I scored a brace that drove the club to win 4-0. Afterwards, I’ve held a record for scoring at least once in a game I’ve had minutes in. 

However, Salma seemed to have the upper hand when it came to having a start. I had to swallow my pride every time I had to be her 67th minute substitute. She always hugged me when she would come off, but my body would tense up everytime. Nobody noticed the small resentment for her, except for Salma herself. She started to piece small things together. 

“You did great today Niña, I'm impressed by your dribbling and speed in training.” Alexia, or my captain Ale, patted me on the back as we headed into the locker rooms after training. A few days ago, we won the Champions League semi-final against Chelsea. Thanks to a goal from Aitana, Fridolina, and I. 

Alexia was a huge advocate for me which made my heart melt. I’ve admired her as a fan but now I am her teammate, so I express my gratitude to her whenever its possible. 

“Thank you. I learn from the best people surrounding me.” I smirked and Alexia breathed out a chuckle. Something the girls noticed when I came to the club is how much I’ll compliment or support people on their skills. Aitana said that I've been a light in the dressing room when it comes to boosting morale. This is a reason why people don’t notice a small resentment I held for a-certain-someone on the team. 

“Well, Don’t get your hopes up when I say this— but Jona might consider you as a starter for the final— Don’t take that as a guarantee, but your speed will be needed against Lyon's defense” Alexia’s Spanish accent poked through as she held onto my shoulder. The Spanish are very affectionate. 

“I won’t get my hopes up— I do take that as a compliment though.” I said. 

“Good. We’ve been looking between you and Salma as the third forward in the finale. Since Frido and Caro will have the left and right wing.” Alexia spoke. I felt my stomach turn at her name. Aware that I will have to work harder in training to start in the final, I know Salma will do the same thing. 

A week later, my “animosity” towards Salma only intensified when I discovered that Salma will start in the final over me as a striker. Back at my apartment, I’ve cried myself to sleep. I’ve worked hard in training. My tears represented the fear that nobody is seeing the skills and potential I have. 

“Hey Y/n” As I walked out the locker room after training one morning, I turned around and saw Salma approaching me. My eyes widened and I turned to walk away in a hurry. 

“Hi.” I said quickly as Salma continued to walk beside me. What did she want? 

“We should go watch The Challengers movie with Esmee on our day off Sunday. I know you both used to play tennis and such, it looks like a great movie.” Salma hesitantly spoke. My eyebrows knitted together at what she said. I did play tennis for a few years in middle school back in America, but as a hobby not a sport. Esmee told me that she could’ve gone professional at tennis in the Netherlands but chose football instead. The Dutch girl is the only person that knew about my old tennis hobby, so she had to have told Salma about it. 

“Um–” I say as we both pushed the glass doors outside into the parking lot. As much as I wanted to say no, express to Salma how much I've resented her, and drive home.. I couldn’t. I felt my heart ache as I looked at the girl who had a shy smile. Wait– huh? Why am I doing that?

“I–I can go with you guys–Just have Esmee text me the details when you guys decide the time.” I said before walking away to my black SUV, my emotions not handling what Salma might’ve said or reacted to my acceptance. 

The last few days before Sunday came along. I’ve talked to my best friend, Isla, about everything. She doesn’t live in Spain, since she plays football for Gotham FC, but she had a clear understanding about the community.

After my rant which lasted an hour, Isla said something which made my heart stop for a quick second. 

“Are you sure that you hate Salma?” Isla asked over the facetime call. 

“Well-No! I don’t hate anybody, I just hate how big of an advantage she has over me.” 

“Oh– because it sounds like you’re in love with her–” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well the way you’ve talked about Salma reminds me of how I started off with Esther here at Gotham. However it was the other way around. She was in love with me but refused to accept it– so she found reasons to try and hate me instead before she was forced to confront the truth.” 

That part of the conversation replayed in my mind for the last few days. Throughout training, throughout the game against Granada that won us the league, it replayed non-stop. It didn’t distract me but I couldn’t look at Salma without questioning if I am in love with her. A subtle shift began to take place within my heart, even if I didn’t want it to happen.

Salma started noticing the small things too. After the Granada game which granted us Liga F champions, she noticed when I wrapped my arm around her and Esmee as we jumped around in the red-colored locker rooms. I’ve noticed that as I started to slowly accept my possible feelings for her, my “resentment” faded away with it. 

“Good game, Sal.” I whispered in her ear as everyone posed for a group picture in our “Liga F Champions” shirts. She looked at me with widened eyes before smiling softly.

I found herself drawn to the challenge Salma posed as the Champions League final was coming up. Salma always craved the intensity of their encounters, the adrenaline rush of chasing victory side by side with her rival, just like I did.

By Sunday, the day where Salma Esmee and I will go to the movie theaters, I've accepted it—I finally realized the truth that had been staring me in the face all along. Due to past heartbreak, I didn’t want to fall in love again but here I am in Spain. As I stood in the mirror, looking at the nice casual outfit I've put on (imagine what outfit you want, reader <3) I knew with absolute certainty that what I’ve felt went beyond rivalry with Salma, beyond competition.

It was love.

In that moment of clarity, my resentment melted away. I knew that I couldn't keep denying her feelings any longer, but a fear started to grow inside of my heart. What if it's too late? 

Salma did notice my resentment towards her. There were times where I’ve blown her off because of that. I couldn’t blame her if she started to hate me for what I've done to her. 

Four hours later, The Challengers movie ended. I’ve sat in-between Esmee (on my left) and Salma (on my right) in the movie theater. The movie was good but I had the urge to look at Salma at times. Once, I looked down at her hand that wasn’t too far from mine. As much as I wanted to reach to hold her soft hands, I couldn’t do it. What if she pulled away? What if things would’ve been awkward between us? I didn’t risk it. 

When we hugged Esmee as she left the theater, it was Salma and I in the parking lot. I could’ve said bye and left too, but Salma wanted to say something to me. Esmee and her gave each other an unknowing glance, so I believe Esmee might know what Salma is feeling. 

“Y/n, Why do you hate me?” Salma frowned. My heart broke as I bit my lip in nervousness.

“I don’t.” I said I looked at her with a sad smile. 

“Yes you do. Every time I wanted to talk to you at practice, you always ran away to talk to someone else. I’ve noticed that you’re the only person that never congratulated me separately after a goal. I’ve seen the way you’ve brightened up people’s days with your compliments, love, and hugs. Why can I not have that Y/n? Did I do something to you for you to hate me? Just tell me because I don’t want to start off next season knowing that you might hate me for something I might’ve done.” Salma took my left hand and held it with both of her soft, moisturized hands as she looked me in the eyes.

A tear fell out of my left eye as I felt guilty. I’ve fucked up. I’ve hurt Salma and she doesn’t know why— I need to tell her how I feel. 

“Salma, I don’t hate you at all. I am so sorry for what I've done to you. All you did—really—was be great on the pitch. When I came to Spain, I noticed how loved you were by everyone. You had the minutes, skills, awards, and recognition that I could dream of having. However— I’ve admired you more than everyone else at the same time. I know that's hard to accept due to what I've done to you, but I felt like you were too good for me. I look at you more than everyone else. I wanted to hug you and congratulate your success with you but the vulnerability scared me. I’ve been hurt before so in order to protect my feelings, I’ve covered it up with resentment— Salma, I am in love with you.” By the time I told her that I love her, tears poured down my cheeks and Salma held me in a hug, tightly, as she cried too. 

“Y/n, I am in love with you too. That's why it hurt me when I believed that you might’ve hated me.” Salma said through her tears.

“I am so sorry–seriously. I don't hate you. I love you. I will never hurt you like that again, I swear.”  I said. 

After that night, we started over and became lovers. Our undeniable bond blossomed between us. The team adored our relationship and were happy for us. I did keep my promise, I never hurt her again. I’ve found love in giving my love to her without the fear of getting hurt. After the debut game in the 24/25 season, we walked off the pitch hand in hand, my heart fluttered as I know this is the beginning of our longtime relationship. 

<3

#barcelona femeni #salma paralluelo #woso community #fc barcelona #woso fanfics #woso x reader #la roja #aitana bonmati

[highlynerdy]

"Aithusa has seen her father's mate in his memories and smelled him on her father's skin when he comes to visit, but this is the first time she gets to meet him for herself."

Nepenthe and Lavender by @0hheytherebigbadwolf

My latest fanARTifact is an entirely handlettered, handbound, and illustrated book of this beautifully fluffy fic (and it has actually been in various states of progress since March 1, 2021.) More below the cut!

So as I said above, I actually started planning this fic over two years ago. Which, yeah, I don't really want to talk about because adhd is a hell of a thing. I love love love this fic (and this entire series) and I was inspired by The Black Hours and other gorgeous manuscripts with metallic on black paper.

I ordered some black paper from Canson for the text block, used Arabic gold finetec paint mixed with water and gum arabic as my ink (I used three pans of the gold paint...), and a Nikko G nib with a straight pen holder for the calligraphy. I really wanted to use one of my broad tip nibs, but I just couldn't my Uncial letters small enough with it. I used Uncial since that was technically the alphabet/font they used in the Arthurian time period.

The paper was cut down and folded into signatures of three and then I drew out light pencil lines for the text and for the margins. Every single letter was done sooooo slooowwllly because if I messed up on one page there was no way to erase it, which meant I would have to do basically four pages worth of lettering again since they were all connected.

And I did mess up.

More than once.

I think the most heartbreaking mistake was at the very end when I was trying to erase my pencil lines and I just ripped a page completely in half. The tears were real, folks.

Once I finished lettering - which took hours and hours and hours over many weeks - it was time to assemble the text block and sew it. I used gold silk thread I had leftover from Arthur's scarf (which is also used as the backdrop for the photo shoot) to sew the block together and I love how it gives just another little peek of gold to the book.

I painted the end papers in a vaguely floral pattern with the same gold and also some silver finetec paint, glued them all together and put them in my book press and then promptly didn't work on it again from October 2022 to July 2023. Sigh.

But once I committed to getting it done, I asked @swanfloatieknight to help be my accountabilibuddy and make sure I finished it this week. I tested out so many different cover designs, from fabric and thread, to paper, to finally settling on this all over design done by my cricut. Historically accurate?? Nah. I'm about as historically accurate as BBC Merlin.

I tried my hand at gold foiling and that was a disaster so I just used a gold silk ribbon to give the color a little bit more color. Once it was bound, I painted in a triskelion and Aithusa on a double page spread I left intentionally blank.

And it was finally done!

All in all, I'm pleased with how it turned out. Was it an exercise in patience? Yes. Did I learn a lot? Also yes. Mostly that handlettering an entire fic is madness and also this is far too small to case bind, but I'm a stubborn ass and it was happening regardless.

All total, I probably worked on this for about 50+ hours. It was most definitely a labor of love and I'm so happy that it's finally done.

Thank you for inspiring me to take on such a project by writing such wonderful fics, @0hheytherebigbadwolf! And thank you for everyone who reads these long fanARTifact posts. 💛

#fanARTifacts #fanARTifact #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin fan art #highlynerdy makes #ficbinding #fanbinding #bookbinding #handmade book #merthur #aithusa #i tried to post a video of me lettering in the read more but tumblr wouldn't let me #the gold handkerchiefs are also made by me #from my marigolds i grew last year and dyed and handsewed them #and the plant is in the picture because his name is Arthur lol #photographing black and gold is a nightmare #especially on red fabric #i need a screen break now whew #merlin fic #art

[livwritesstuff]

‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

#over-the-moon in love steve absolutely writes a mean love letter #to those who get steve's sign-off -> ilysm that's an old post #shoutout to the partners of birthday-haters #y’all are doing the most and it is appreciated #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

[reallyhardydraws]

2023.

i hope any of you reading this will forgive the essay. i started posting to this art blog ten years ago in 2013 when i was just at the very end of high school, uploading short animations i'd made for one of my final projects, preparing myself for art school where i was gearing up to become an illustration/animation student.

i went into my art foundation course in 2014, still thinking i was going to be going into storybook illustration or with faint hopes of becoming like a concept artist for game/animation, although even then i'd started thinking about patterns...

and then in 2015 i did go into my BA, going in for that illustration with animation degree that... usually when i talk about it in real life, i say didn't really feel like the best place for me. if i think back, the best things i got out of it were two of my best friends, one of whom is now my partner. looking back on my BA era, there's some bits of sketchbook stuff...

and while i was at university my main fandoms were thunderbirds are go and x-men for a bit... these are from the end of 2015 into the beginning of 2016...

then for a little while i was doing this still sort of pastel-ish lineless situation:

and i alternated between that and this thin fineliner type work (pretty sure all of the linearted pieces were done on paper and scanned, and all the lineless were graphics-tablet-only) - it was in this style that i started to offer commissions for the first time too.

and i also had fineliner-lined work in sketchbooks that i coloured with marker and posca pens, the colours of which were generally a bit more intense just based on not being able to slide the hue/saturation around on paper:

also 2016 was when i discovered the spongebob musical just after it's trial run in chicago (which ended in july of 2016) and i started making fanart at that point... which would have the biggest effect on the way i drew (and i did end up handing in a piece of spongebob musical fanart as one of my art school homeworks lmao)

from summer 2016 until early 2017 things were still quite soft and pastelly in my digital art, colour-wise:

and then suddenly everything got whacked up to 100% on saturation. also i was using the binary tool to give everything really thin pixel lineart for some reason.

then i went on vacation in summer 2017 and didn't draw for maybe a month? just short of? and when i came back i decided to change everything up again... giving characters blobbier, more ugly-cute faces with large squinting eyes and big nostrils and i was worrying a lot less about making anything look smooth, lineart-wise. i turned off the pen stabiliser in SAI and let it wiggle.

then... the spongebob musical opened on broadway in late 2017, i went to see it live in person for the first time... and my whole brain was ENTIRELY consumed by my love of it. i was putting that david zinn inspired pattern explosion into everything, even if it wasn't sbm fanart.

as we go into 2018, i started colouring my lineart. my biggest interest was still broadway musicals (with spongebob at the top of the list)

i think summer 2017 - early 2018 is probably my favourite art era, i was at my most bright and colourful and exciting... although i know in my actual real life i was struggling a lot with my home situation and i had been for some time. art was definitely my escapism back then, and i think a lot of the time i drew really bright, joyful stuff to try and inject that feeling into myself.

as for my university work, i was putting my focus into 3D paper-mache puppets:

and i was also starting to do more repeat patterns, mostly inspired by things around me. i'd learned how to make patterns actually tile and repeat in 2017, so made a few during my time at uni just to accompany some of my projects, but never as the focus of them. one of my university tutors told me that maybe i should put more focus on doing surface pattern, and maybe applying it to textiles, but i said i wasn't interested.

i graduated from my BA in the summer of 2018, and immediately began volunteering at the whitworth art gallery doing anything i could - stewarding, helping with arts and crafts, dancing with families...

in 2019 i was still very colourful... i was trying out more chunky colouring on characters skintones that i think was def inspired by tumblr artist jadenvargen:

but the blobbyness and ugly-cute style of drawing faces was gone by here, and i think... the way i drew characters probably had better *anatomy*, proportions were maybe a bit more realistic...

in 2020 i started adding the black shading to under the chins and some other places on characters' bodies because i started watching the anime my hero academia with my brother, lmao (and i was starting to pastelise colours a bit again, these are the most pastel-ish examples) my lineart has really smoothed back out too, though i never turned my pen stabiliser back on in SAI. i think my hand just adjusted. probably seems a bit insane to miss that, but i do.

by the end of 2020, the almost-year of lockdown over cobid had... made me a bit insane, i think, and i moved out of my mother's house and into a flat with a friend from university.

in 2021 i think things were much the same... i think from this point on is where things have sort of settled. i don't want to say stagnated, but i do think things have been very... like this for a while.

2022 - got the most exciting examples out...

also i was very into these little frames in 2022.

and then on to 2023! in 2022, i did begin trying to shift gears a bit -- hoping to put more energy into sewing and making products (like my tutor has suggested back in uni, even though i'd really resisted the idea.) i sold at a few in-person markets during winter of 2022, but got disheartened by the amount of money i had to sink in up front to sign up for a spot...

which has made me VERY grateful for the people who have supported me via online sales. it has really helped me stay afloat in 2023 - AND it has felt more wonderful than i can describe that there have been people interested in my work... especially when a lot of it has been my original designs, rather than the fanart that i expect a lot of people initially followed me for.

i've also... in the past 2 years... branched out a bit more when it comes to 'being an artist' - and have had the opportunity to deliver arts & crafts workshops with local refugee & asylum seeker support charity, afrocats. it's taken me to their home base in a church to hotels across the city where asylum seekers were temporarily placed while waiting on their new homes, and of course to my beloved whitworth art gallery, where we welcomed visitors from all backgrounds: from the typical white middle class visitors the gallery usually expects, to all the refugee visitors coming into the space for the first time.

and through my volunteering at the whitworth, i showed up so often they decided they might as well pay me. so i've also become a facilitator of... creative play sessions, my favourites of which have been outdoors. monthly, year-round, we have 'outdoor art club', where i get to paint with mud and make potions from leaves with kids & families - here you can see me tell you a little bit about it in this video below with 'crempog' a puppet character that makes videos about activities for kids and families around manchester (my bit starts at 01:10 although i am in the intro and thumbnail haha)

and then of course the summer 'PLAYTIME' activities we've had the past two years: scrap studio in 2022, and play market in 2023. it's the best freelance gig ever -- just to hang out and encourage families to be creative and have fun.

in working more in these new avenues... outside of being - as i've called myself for a long time - "an internet artist"... i've found myself more interested in this sort of thing. in being a "real world artist" too. in doing surface pattern design, and being a workshop facilitator, i find myself wanting to put more energy into these sorts of projects.

in 2023 i've also dabbled a little bit more in youtube videos! i have had a channel for a while and have made videos in previous years, but 2023 has been the year i've done the most in. admittedly most of them haven't been about my art, and more just like... random things that interest me (the spongebob musical in particular) but i've really been enjoying video editing. that's kind of an art form too, so i'm including it here!

moving forward, want to keep putting even more of my energy into other things. my shop, with a bigger range of products to offer. workshops in real life, where i can make a difference.

as for my art blog... i feel like i've done the least drawing in many years in 2023, and... well, things have been weird and complicated for a bit in my real life. i hope to draw for fun a bit more again very soon, and to return to doing things in more of a wild and crazy way, to be more creative and exciting with the way i draw things. still, here's some of my favourites from 2023:

thank you so much to everyone who has borne witness to my art journey this past decade!!! i hope you will stick with me, who knows, maybe for another 10 years if tumblr holds out. especially a big thank you to everyone who has ever commissioned me, or bought anything from my store, you literally keep me able to make art at all and i cannot, cannot, cannot overstate how much it means to me.

i'm moving homes soon, possibly into very cramped temporary conditions for a little while before HOPEFULLY starting my real life with my partner. if i can take one more moment to plug my work, then [here is a link to my online shop] and [here is my ko-fi page too.]

cheers, cheers, cheers!

- LOREN 🌈🍍🎉

#also: i did post. monster high and steam powered giraffe fanart on my main blog when i was in high school #in 2012/2013 it seems like i did absolutely LOADS of fanart for both of those fandoms but didn't cross-post it to my art blog #and uh. well. i'm not about to do it now hahaha

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part X

Rosie the Riveter

Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to update this story! One of my goals for 2024 is to get this series completed. Although it's taken me so long to update, Bobby and Peach are never far from my mind and are always in my heart. I hope you enjoy this latest installment of their story!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story.

The title of this chapter is obviously a tribute to the iconic figure of Rosie the Riveter. But it was also inspired by the song of the same name by The Four Vagabonds, which you can listen to here!

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, Clara (@luminousnotmatter). She was the first person to listen to all my endless ramblings about this universe, and she has never stopped supporting me or believing that I can get it finished. Thank you, Clara!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to casualties of war and grief, slight angst, lots and lots of fluff.

July 8, 1943

My Dearest Peach,

I want to start by saying that I’m terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to your last letter. I think I’ve worn down the paper to nearly nothing with how many times I’ve read it, but it’s been hard to get a free moment to sit and write you the response you deserve. Things are really heating up over here, and we have to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down to start a new letter, only for us to be called up just as I set my pen to the paper.

To set your mind at ease, I want you to know that I’m alright. I’m not sure how much information they’re sharing with you all back home, but I know one of the fellas got a letter from his wife recently and she told him that three different families on their street got notified that their boys had been killed in action in just one week. It made her real scared that she was going to be the next one getting a knock on the door. I won’t lie to you, Peach, because I don’t think that’s fair—we’re losing a lot of men over here. It’s scary to think that any day now, it could be me they’re sending a flag home for.

I hate to start this letter off so morbidly, but there’s been something weighing on my mind lately, especially since my buddy got that letter from his wife. If anything happens to me over here, you won’t know. They’ll tell my family, sure, but not you. And I can’t stand the thought of you waiting for another letter that isn’t going to come. So I’ve spoken to Paul, Tommy Boy, and Benny about it. If anything happens to me over here, Peach, they’re going to write to you and let you know. It gives me some comfort to think that their words will be a little softer and kinder than the formality of Uncle Sam.

I hope this doesn’t make you sad, Peach, although I admit it makes me a bit sad to write. The truth is, I’m quite alright right now, like I said, and I don’t plan on letting anything happen to me over here. We have to take that drive to Folly Beach and get ice cream on the pier, after all. I tell you, that thought alone is enough to get me through even the hardest days over here.

Alright, enough of all this. Time to get back to your lovely letter. They’re calling us for dinner right now, but as soon as I’m finished, I’m coming right back to continue this letter. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting it to you.

I’m back, Peach. All the fellas were teasing me in the galley because of how quickly I scarfed down my dinner, but I didn’t care because I knew I was getting back to you and your sweet words, and that means a whole lot more than the crummy food they’re serving over here. Boy, I tell you, I sure do miss home-cooked meals. They even had—I’m not lying, I promise—they even had peach cobbler for dessert tonight. It made me think of you, but I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as the cobbler your family makes, so I didn’t even bother giving it a taste.

Now I do have to say that you’re right, of course. I hate hearing you call yourself shy and mousey. If that’s the way you feel when I call myself boring, then I certainly promise I won’t ever do it again. It’s a deal—neither of us will talk about ourselves like that anymore.

Nothing you say could ever sound silly to me, Peach. Even though we only got to spend a few hours in each other’s company, your letters have made me feel like we’ve known each other for years and years. I’m honored that I’ve been able to make you feel seen. I do see you, Peach. You’re the most beautiful, interesting, intelligent girl I’ve ever known, and I hope you can see that in yourself. For what it’s worth, you’ve helped me to come out of my shell, too. Paul was just saying the other day that I look like a new man—that I’m standing taller and seem more confident than he’s ever seen in all the years he’s known me. I had just finished reading one of your letters when he said that. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. You’re turning me into a new man, Peach, and I like it. I like it a lot.

I’m glad that you passed along my well wishes to Emily. Even though part of me still thinks her fiancé is a dunce, I do wish them all the best. Has she heard from Eddie? I don’t know where he’s stationed, but if you’d like to find out and send the information to me, I can try to keep an ear out. How has the wedding planning been going? I’m still confident you’re going to make the prettiest bridesmaid.

I did pass along your invitation in my last letter home to my family, and my mother said she would certainly inquire after the Sheridan residence should she ever happen to find herself in Charleston. I think she’s happy that you and I are still writing to each other. She’s even happier about the thought of swapping recipes with you. Watch out—if the two of you ever do meet, I think she’ll hold you hostage in the kitchen all day.

Now I am very proud to hear about all the fine work you and Dottie have been doing with your Victory Garden. I’m sure there must have been a lot of progress since you last wrote to me! I eagerly await news about the beans, carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes. I’m sure you’ve been able to make lots of hearty soups and healthy salads. My mouth is watering at the notion. Like I said, the food in the galley has been pretty crummy lately.

I’m sorry to hear there’s been some trouble back home. I’m sure it can’t be easy for anyone, with all the rationing and the fear and the worry. I promise that we’re doing our best over here to bring this war to an end quickly so that life can return to normal for all of you over there. For us, too. We really can’t wait to be home again.

Peach, I want you to know that it is our duty, our honor, and, quite frankly, our privilege to be fighting for you over here. I know the other fellas would agree with me saying so. So I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything at home to “earn” us fighting for you. That said, I think it’s incredible that you want to contribute to the war effort in that way. I’m sure you haven’t been waiting for my response or my approval—which you shouldn’t, by the way—but I give a wholehearted yes to you applying for that position at the air station. We just recently saw Mr. Norman Rockwell’s illustration of Rosie the Riveter on the cover of the Post, and I have to say that I think you’d wear those coveralls a hundred times better.

I’m so proud of you, Peach. I want you to know that.

Speaking of the war effort, we have a couple big campaigns coming up very soon. I can’t say much more than that, but your well wishes and prayers for success would be very much appreciated. I’m always thankful for them.

Until next time, Peach! I’m already counting down the days until your next letter arrives.

Most Truly Yours,

Bobby

P.S. I almost forgot! I told Paul how much you loved the fact that he sends drawings home to Clara and Paul, Jr.—by the way, that reminds me, how is little Frankie doing?—and he was more than happy to create a few illustrations for you. He did a couple portraits—one of me and one of you, based off your beautiful photograph. He said to apologize that he’s too much of an amateur to capture all of your beauty. He did say that he thought he did a fine enough job capturing my likeness—I’m telling you, Peach, I think my friends officially like you better than they like me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

July 31, 1943

My Dearest Bobby,

Please don’t ever feel like you need to apologize for how long it takes you to write back to me. I can only imagine how difficult it is to find the time to write with everything that must be happening over there, and yet you always find the time to pen the most thoughtful and wonderful letters. I cherish each and every one of them, and I promise that I’m more than content to read your old letters as I await the new ones.

I’m so sorry to hear about how many of our boys we’re losing. Just last week, our neighbors, the Pattersons—you remember I mentioned Mrs. Patterson had helped me and Dottie with our Victory Garden?—received news that their son, Clarence was killed in action in France. It was devastating. Dottie and I had just been coming home from the grocery store when we saw the officer standing on their front steps with a telegram in hand. We knew what that meant. Mrs. Patterson has been inconsolable since. Mr. Patterson is equally devastated, but I think he’s trying to be strong for her. Dottie and I have been taking turns cooking meals for them and spending some time over at their house. We just want them to know that they’re not alone.

I admit, Bobby, that every time I hear news of someone else being lost in this war, I immediately think of you. It feels selfish, but I’m always so relieved when the news is about someone else and not you. I don’t know how I would bear it. I pray every day that I never have to receive that letter from Paul or Tommy Boy or Benny, but I am touched that you’ve thought about how I could be notified. Oh, Bobby, I hope more than anything that your parents never have to experience what the Pattersons are going through.

But you’re right—you’re going to come home safely. We have too many plans for you to do otherwise!

I’m sorry to hear that the food aboard your carrier has been so crummy lately. I wish that I could whip up a home-cooked feast and send it in the mail with my letters. Every time I sit down to dinner now, I think of all of you, and I count my blessings. Things aren’t perfect on the homefront, but I know that we certainly have no room to complain with all you boys are going through. I promise to have a peach cobbler waiting for you when you come home—and a pumpkin pie, for good measure.

If I’m turning you into a new man, Bobby, then you simply must know that you’re turning me into a new woman as well. I hardly remember the girl that I was before I met you. Can you believe that it’s been over a year now since our paths first crossed? I feel like my life is totally different now. The way that I see myself, the way I interact with others, the way that I’m not so terrified to step out of my comfort zone anymore—so much of that is thanks to you, Bobby. I’m still me, of course. But I feel like I’m a stronger, braver version of myself now. I like it, too.

It’s so kind of you to offer to keep an ear out for Eddie’s infantry! Emily received a letter from him around the same time that I received my letter from you, and he seems to be doing well, same as you, thank goodness. Eddie is part of the 1st Infantry Division. Emily said that last she knew, he was stationed somewhere near the Rhineland. The wedding planning has been going very well. Pretty much everything is set now—all we need is the groom. Emily can’t wait for Eddie to come home for good. Once he does, they’ll be able to officially set the date. Us bridesmaids are going to be wearing lilac-colored dresses. Dottie says she already knows how she’s going to style my hair. I hope that you’re home, too, when the wedding finally happens. Emily said that I could invite you to be my date. Only if you’d like that, of course.

I would be very happy to be kept hostage in the kitchen with your mother! I’m sure there’s so much I could learn from her, and it sounds like a splendid way to spend the day. I look forward to meeting her one of these days!

Oh, the Victory Garden, Bobby! You wouldn’t believe how it’s grown! Trust me, no one is more shocked than me and Dottie. Well, maybe Paddy. He knows firsthand what brown thumbs my sister and I normally have. At first, we weren’t so sure what was going to happen—the cucumbers seemed a bit small and some of the tomatoes didn’t really take. But by the end of June, everything was thriving! It’s been such a joy to watch, and I have to admit, both Dottie and I are feeling extremely accomplished. Frankie loves to spend time in the garden with us, although he spends a bit more time digging in the dirt than helping us pick vegetables, I’m afraid. Now that we’re in the middle of summer, we’re experimenting with zucchini and eggplant. We might also try radishes and turnips. We’re turning into quite the farmers! If your mother has any recipes to share, we’d be more than grateful and happy to try them out!

Now I admit that I’ve saved the most exciting news for last. At the beginning of June, I decided to go for it and I applied for the position at the air station in Goose Creek, the one Paddy told me about. I’m sure being his sister-in-law gave me a bit of an advantage, but it only took a couple days for me to hear back from them. I got the job! I’ve officially been working on the assembly line since the middle of June. It’s hard work, and I’ve never been so tired in all my life, but I have to say that I’m really proud of the work we’re doing. It’s funny that you mention Rosie the Riveter—my job these past few weeks has actually been to fasten pieces of the planes we’re assembling with rivets! So I guess you could call me Peach the Riveter. Doesn’t have quite the same ring though, does it?

I know that the chances are small that anything I’m helping to build is going to reach you specifically, Bobby, but I can’t help but smile every time we finish a new part, or get a new plane put together. I imagine you and Paul, or Tommy Boy or Benny hopping inside and it brings me more pleasure and pride than I could possibly explain. I feel like I’m doing something important, something meaningful and special. If spending hours riveting until my fingers turn numb brings you home even a day faster, then it will all have been worth it. And it gives me a real sense of purpose, driving to work each day with Paddy. I feel proud of myself.

I’ve made some new friends at work, too! Florence and Virginia—we call them Florie and Ginny—are the loveliest, kindest girls. They had already been working on the assembly line for a few months before I got the job, so they’ve been showing me the ropes and teaching me everything they know. They’ve made me feel so welcome, so a part of things. I have to admit that I was terrified my first week or so, terrified that I was going to mess something up or make a fool of myself. But I’ve settled in quite well, thankfully.

It means a lot to me to know that I have your support, Bobby. Truly, it does. Thinking of you and all that you’re doing to protect us is what really motivated me to take this job, so thank you.

Of course I’m sending all my best wishes for the campaigns you have coming up! Wherever you are right now, I pray that you’re safe and that your missions are successful.

You’re so brave, Bobby. Have I told you that lately? Even if I have, you deserve to hear it again. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re my hero.

I hope this letter gets to you soon. I wish it could grow wings and fly to you. I know time is going to pass so slowly until I’m holding a new letter from you in my hands. But until then, Bobby, I’m thinking of you and holding you in my heart.

Most Truly and Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. Paul is quite the artist!!! I now have his portraits hanging right beside the photographs you sent me. Please tell him how talented I think he is, and how much I love the drawings he made for me! I was especially touched by the little note he wrote me on the back of your portrait. I hope he’s doing well. Send my best to him and Tommy Boy and Benny!

TAGLIST: @teacupsandtopgun @saturnsbabe69 @gigisimsonmars @marchingicenotes7 @high-speed-r @cadencebeat2662 @up-thereinthesky @lostinthefandoms11 @strangerparks @sweetwhispersofchaos @callsign-magnolia @the-wayward-daughter @becks-things @jostyriggslover96 @solo-pitstop-vibes @wretchedmo @muddwheelz123 @ryebecca @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #WWII AU #1940s AU #lewis pullman

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Nine

Summary: It's time for Billy to try and make amends with their friend group, whilst also anticipating the fallout of the incident | Word Count: 6.5k~ | Warnings: connotations of racism, mentions of terrorism, smut, p in v, quickie, mentions of funerals

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The smell of varnished wood made her nose wrinkle. It made her think of the school’s assembly hall, the one in primary school, scratched to shit, and when the sun shone in on it during the day, it had a mustier quality to it than usual. She still remembers the dust in the air, drifting in front of her face like tiny fairies. It reminded her of those spring days at Cranstead Fields, when the flowers were pollinating, and the yellow haze that clung around her. 

The only time she’s ever liked that smell, was at the Year 6 disco, when she looked out at the others, dancing to ‘Uptown Girl’, with Panda Pop and Wotsit-stained fingers, faces bright with laughter. She felt her chest tight with nerves, only eased somewhat by the squeeze of Billy’s hand beside her. She had to look up at him now, he’d shot up since she first met him. But his soul remained the same.

“Miss?”

Her head shot up, shaking her head slightly of her trance, brought back to the musty smell of the courtroom, her eyes flitting about, the odd familiar face in a sea of unrecognisable ones. Billy to one side on the bench where the witnesses would be, his gorgeous blue eyes wide with worry, but not for him, craning his neck forward at her in concern.

She looked back at the lawyer, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I’m sorry…could you repeat the question, please?”

She clutched her dress in her fist, luckily hidden behind the witness box, but the judge might have been able to see.

“Could you describe your relationship with the other witness, Mr Washington?"

She found her mouth was so dry, as if made of cotton for a moment, a hoarse, nervous voice escaped her, feeling the eyes of everyone in the courtroom zero’d in on her alone. 

“Billy and I have known each other since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to the same schools. We've always been close.” she answered, reaching for the glass of water to take an anxious sip. 

Friends. It felt strange saying that now, in the mere weeks after what they’d done in Billy’s flat on that rainy evening in July. If she’d have looked closely, she would see the faint dusting of pink on Billy’s cheeks as he bowed his head. 

She continued, “When I went off to university, we lost touch for several years. It was only when I returned to London that we reconnected. As for now," she concluded, her voice softening, "I consider Billy one of my closest friends. Someone I trust with my life."

The man before her nodded, his face stern. Unwavering.

"Had Mr Washington ever expressed any extreme or radical views in your presence?"

She glanced out, locking eyes with Lana across the room. As usual her expression was unreadable. And then when her eyes slid back to Billy, he looked somewhat tired, nervous that she would tell the truth, anxious it would sway the Jury's decision on Karl. But all the same, he smiled at her reassuringly, a tiny one, and nodded. It’s okay.

Inhaling deeply, she acquiesced with a firm nod, her voice resolute yet tinged with empathy. "Yes, but only once," she divulged, sensing the courtroom's collective intake of breath. "It happened after the incident with the halal butcher's window. I confronted him about his actions, and he later confessed to me that he had no real understanding of why he'd done it. I didn’t believe he was capable of genuine hatred towards anyone purely based on race, especially as he’d never had these opinions before."

A ripple of murmurs cascaded through the room, accompanied by the rhythmic scratch of pens against paper. Under the weight of the moment, she felt Billy's gaze fixed upon her, a silent plea etched in his eyes, silently beseeching her to be his beacon of hope amid the storm of uncertainty.

"Were you aware of any plans or discussions about a bomb or an attack?"

A flash of confusion passed her face before she replied, “I wasn't.”

"Can you describe in detail how Mr Washington reacted at the exact moment the bomb was found? What were his first words or actions?"

The inquiry hung in the air, weighty and demanding. She hesitated for a brief moment, gathering her thoughts, before beginning her response.

"At the exact moment the bomb was found," she began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion, "he appeared...shocked, bewildered even. His first words were, naturally, expletives, and then he attempted to get out of the car, before I stopped him."

“And why did you stop him?”

Irritation clawed at her, at the way she was being scrutinised for protecting him, “it was Lana, his sister and a member of the bomb squad, who alerted us to the presence of the bomb. She instructed us to remain in the car, and I followed her guidance to ensure our safety, and so when Billy had calmed down, we drove to Cranstead Fields at the MET’s request.”

The lawyer paused for a moment, seemingly digesting her words, before continuing with a slightly sharper edge to his voice. "So, you're saying you trusted the instructions of Lana, despite knowing there was a bomb in your vehicle?"

"Of course," she affirmed, her voice firm. "Lana is a professional, and she knows how to handle these situations. She assured us it was safer to wait for the bomb squad to come to us. In addition, as Billy’s sister, she naturally wanted to save him.”

He paused again, eyes scanning the courtroom before returning to her. "One final question for you," he said, voice steady. "At any point before this incident, did you ever witness Mr Washington associating with individuals known for radical or extremist views?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. She knew the importance of her answer, aware of the delicate thread on which Billy's fate balanced. "No," she said firmly, locking eyes with the prosecutor. "Billy has always been a kind-hearted person, never one to harbour hate or engage in violence. His actions towards the halal butcher's shop were out of character, spurred by manipulation from those he thought were his friends."

The lawyer nodded, signalling the end of questioning. As he returned to his seat, the courtroom buzzed with whispered speculations and the scratch of pens on paper. The witness's testimony had painted a complex picture of Billy, one of a man caught in a web far beyond his understanding or control, a narrative that would undoubtedly play a crucial role in the jury's deliberations.

Her breath trembled as she retreated, the echo of her statement lingering like a shadow. Walking with shaky legs back into her seat, she dared a glance, eyes seeking Billy. In that fleeting moment, their gazes met, a silent exchange fraught with hope and uncertainty. And when she sat down beside him, he was quick to hold her hand, mouthing, ‘are you okay’, to which she simply nodded with a thick swallow.

She thought she was.

She had yet to spare a glance at Karl Maguire, sat in the middle of the courtroom, an impassive expression etched across his face. He sat sideways as if bored, a stark contrast to the way Lana had known him.

Everything just seemed to get more confusing after Cranstead.

Over one particular shouting match that took place in the Washington household, this time it wasn't Billy who was on the receiving end, but Lana. 

When Karl was rumbled, arrested on suspicion of being The Crusader's self-appointed leader and responsible for the multiple terrorist attacks, including Nut and Billy, her parents were naturally fucking furious.

As much as they praised her for how clever she was, her dad would tail it off with ‘well this wasn't very fucking clever of you, was it. Taking a fucking terrorist to bed’.

It was horrendous to watch, nevermind to listen to. How could Lana have not seen this? Billy had been groomed by the Crusaders, yes, but so had Lana. And she had no rebuttal to any of it. She just bowed her head, admitted how stupid she felt, and her guilt was clear as day, thinking about how they could've died in that car that sunny July afternoon.

Naturally, Karl was all ‘no comment’. But the police had plenty of evidence to suggest he was associated, no less with Nick Roberts, showing a clear link from Karl not only to the Farringdon Tube Station attack, but to all the attacks that came before, and right to Billy.

Her presence in the car that fateful day enhanced the seriousness of it, as a person with no association with the Crusaders whatsoever. An innocent bystander. The lawyers took her situation and made a show of it, to convince both the Judge and Jury that this man was dangerous.

It didn't mean the Defence couldn't have a dig at the witnesses though. They'd bought up all the dirt on her and Billy that they could, focussing on Billy's extremism, without divulging the emotional manipulation that had occurred before and during that.

“I believe Mr Washington has an impact statement prepared?” 

All eyes drifted from the judge towards Billy's Mum, who descended from the public gallery to appear before the court. 

The usual softness Val gave off in everyday life, the look of a mother that she had so often saw, was replaced with a tight lipped scornful gaze as she glanced up at Karl and then to the paper in her hands, trembling slightly.

“Judge. 

Before this incident, I led a life unmarred by the shadows of extremism and violence. I was an ordinary person, with hopes and dreams for the future. That future now feels irretrievably altered.

The day we discovered the bomb in my car marks not just a moment of terror but a fracture in the narrative of my life. The realisation that I was unwittingly made part of a plot to cause harm has left me with a profound sense of betrayal and vulnerability. My trust in others, once given freely, has been eroded by suspicion and fear.

In the aftermath, the psychological scars have been deep. Nights are the hardest; sleep has become a battleground for nightmares replaying the what-ifs. My days are punctuated by moments of panic at the slightest reminder of that day. The isolation I feel is compounded by the public's scrutiny and the stigma attached to being involved, however unwittingly, in such an event.

Professionally, the path ahead has become even more uncertain.The stigma from this case has darkened my prospects of finding employment. Already jobless, the widespread publicity now taints every attempt to move forward, casting a long shadow over my future. Relationships that I valued, with friends and loved ones, have been strained or severed, unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions and the shadow of doubt that follows me.

But perhaps most painful of all is the impact on my relationship. We shared a bond of trust and friendship that was tested in the most harrowing way. The guilt I carry for her involvement, for the danger we faced together, is a weight that I am learning to live with every day.

I stand before you today a changed person. The future I envision now is one of rebuilding – not just my life, but my sense of self. I am committed to moving beyond this, to finding a way to trust again, to sleep without fear, and to live without the constant weight of what happened.

And most importantly to rebuild my life with the woman I love.

Thank you for allowing me to share the impact this has had on me. I trust that justice will be served, not just for me but for all who have suffered at the hands of extremism and hate.”

She felt her whole body get hot, emotions swirling like a storm inside her, raging to break free. And when Billy squeezed her hand and looked sideways at her, his expression soft and dreamy, as if he just wanted to wake up from this dreadful nightmare, she swallowed as a warm tear fell to her face.

The next few hours drained all energy out of them both. She and Billy simply remained like this, hands clasped, desperate to just get out and start fresh. And they half-listened to Lana's testimony, regarding bomb disposal and her personal history with Billy, as well as the forensic analysis and psychologists who worked to enhance the already serious nature of the trauma they had endured.

“The Jury will begin their deliberations. Court is dismissed for today. Thank you.”

Even the judge sounded tired.

The first thing she did when they were all filed out into the foyer was sink into Val’s waiting arms. There were no tears she could shed, not anymore.

“You alright?” Val whispered. And she only nodded, half-tired of the question she'd been asked non-stop since the Cranstead Fields incident. But she knew Val only asked out of love.

That pleasant warmth rolled in her gut, feeling Billy's hand at the small of her back, “d’you wanna go home?”

She nodded, “can we pop by the shop first?” She asked, “need some flowers for the grave.”

The funeral was no big service. As if she didn't have enough to deal with after Cranstead, planning this in the wake of her mother's death was just twisting the knife inside her further. 

Billy, as expected, offered to take most of the emotional weight off her. After waking up in his flat the following morning, he'd barely known what to do with himself. Sure, he'd thought about this for so long, being with her. But now that it was right before him, in his grasp, he didn't know what to do with it. As if it were so precious he was afraid one wrong move would break this newly formed connection.

The day of, she'd begrudgingly met up with her extended family of whom she'd barely seen for years and years. Her mother was a solitary creature, buried deep in her addictions, it was only natural she shut herself away from her own family.

Her mother's brother was surprisingly keen to meet her though, and after the service was concluded with a speech drawn up about ‘she was a mother, a member of the community’ etc etc, she milled about the outside with Billy, making idle chat.

Her Uncle, a whole eight years younger than her Mum, was an image of what she imagined her mum could be like, had she taken help, had she taken those steps to look after herself. Her uncle was bright, happy, fit and teeming with life. It only served to supply her mind with the ‘what ifs’.

Him taking an interest in her didn't soften the blow of all their side of the family feeling like total strangers. People who hadn't seen her mother in years bloody cried, but didn't even know who she was. Her daughter was just a lingering ghost of her mother's abuse.

She invited her dad purely because she wanted to be polite. But he only showed up to pop some flowers down and gave her a nod of the head before retreating into his partner's car.

Her real family had come.

Val and Jeff were the gold stars in the weakened darkness. Making sure she was okay, asking what needed to be done. Everything. And on top of all that, Billy never once left her side, one hand perched on her hip permanently, every now and then leaning down to plant a boyish kiss to the crown of her head.

It was the only time she never felt numb.

And after the long, long day, abstaining from the offer of a lift from Val and Jeff, being much too soon after Cranstead to even think about that, Billy walked back to his flat with her hand in his, entertaining her chatter about literally anything other than her mother.

And the memory of the funeral was quickly shed past the threshold of his apartment, alongside her clothes. And the second time they ever had sex was similar to the first, minds too hazy to think about much else than just each other, and the sensations of this new, unbreakable bond.

There was a lingering sense of unease about the day. London, once bustling with life. Families, friends and people with wide smiles and bright eyes, had made way for a new era of melancholic routine. With summer drawing to a close, but the heat persisting somewhat in the clear, blue skies above, the children had all but gone back to school, and thus the crowds and tourists along with it. And without the excited squeals of children playing outside to fill the silence, all she could often hear was the low hum of traffic and the rustling of foliage in the trees above. 

It was somewhat comforting.

And yet, she felt her body was tight with nerves in the weeks that followed their time in court. She willed her phone to vibrate, to finally find out.

What sentence would Karl be given? Would Billy’s involvement sway the Jury or the Judge?

Who could know.

Her eyes looked over Billy’s bowed head and sullen form as he stepped out the corner shop, having panic-bought a packet of fags to stem the rising anxiety in his system. She leant against the wall, watching as he struggled to open the pack and slide one cigarette between his lips, waiting for him to say something.

There were two reasons Billy was nervous.

“Billy, it’s gonna be fine-”

“Fuck,” he cursed, managing to light the cigarette the second time, blowing smoke between his lips and relaxing his shoulders. He raised his eyes to her then, offering her a drag, to which she shook her head and insisted she was trying to come off them. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t smash up a halal butcher’s window.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, “they wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t want to make amends,” she insisted, “or me by association, for that matter.”

Billy gave her a tight-lipped smile. Lately he was never able to keep his eyes on her for long before looking away. She wished she could somehow peer into his mind, to see what mysterious things he thought about. But the truth was, now that Cranstead had really sunk in, he couldn’t shake the unwavering feeling of guilt– that she, like him, could have died because of the stupid decisions he’d made, because he was too overly-trusting. And that he had foolishly placed that trust into malicious hands. 

She knew him so well. Perhaps too well. And seeing all this doubt swirl around his beautiful mind had her hand seeking his, “Hey..”

He chewed his lip, raising his blonde eyelashes to glance at her calm face.

“You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Billy squared his shoulders, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He knew that facing his friends would be no easy task, that their judgement and condemnation would be a bitter pill to swallow. But he also knew that he couldn't continue to hide from the consequences of his actions, that he owed it to himself and to her to confront his past head-on.

So he dropped the half-smoked ciggie to the floor and crushed it with his shoe, his longer fingers tightening around hers, “Okay. Let’s go.”

On an impromptu trip to Portugal, Libby and Abi had finally taken the leap of faith. Or rather, Abi stopped being a bit less scared of her dad, and finally proposed. Nobody was more ecstatic about it than Abi’s Mum, much to everyone’s surprise. Apparently when she found out, she cracked a few ribs with the force of the hug she gave her and stated that she had better start getting used to spicy food if she wanted to be in in.

She’d been berated with texts from the group chat, of which Billy had been removed from a few months before the wake of what he’d done, with Libby trying to organise a little barbeque to celebrate the engagement. 

All of the friend group would be there. And she could feel the heavy anxiety seep off Billy the closer they became to their house.

“Ready?” she asked quietly, looking down the alleyway between houses that led to the back garden. She could already smell something cooking, the clinking of glasses and the soft, airy laughter of Libby, as well as the squabbling nature of Harry and Paddy.

Billy nodded, though his expression remained tense. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering him a small smile. "Remember, they're our friends. They care about you, too."

He managed a weak smile in return, grateful for her support. Together, they made their way down the alleyway, the sounds of the celebration growing louder with each step. As they reached the gate to the garden, she gave him an encouraging nod, silently urging him forward.

Stepping into the warm glow, Billy felt a wave of relief wash over him. Surrounded by familiar faces and the comforting buzz of conversation, he began to relax, the weight of his apprehension slowly lifting.

Libby spotted them first, her face lighting up with a bright smile as she rushed over to greet them. "You made it!" she exclaimed, enveloping them both in a tight hug. "We've been waiting for you."

She hugged Libby just as tightly, her eyes glancing over her yellow sundress and handing her a bunch of flowers as congratulations, “You look lovely.”

Libby scrunched her nose, pulling her hand into hers, semi-forcefully, “Mmhm. You, missy, have a lot to tell me.”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes enough. Libby obviously wanted to know about that day when she and Billy…reconciled. She cringed at the thought of having to give details, “get a drink in me first.”

Feeling the semi-judgemental eyes of the lads on him, Billy swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as sweat began to form there, “I’ll get us one,” he muttered quickly, disappearing into the kitchen, as a means to hide from the lingering glares.

“Is he okay?” Libby whispered, or rather mouthed it, so he wouldn’t hear.

“He’s nervous. Understandably.”

“Hm…so do you find out the verdict today?” Libby asked, pulling her towards the barbeque where Paddy had taken over from Abi. She only nodded, unable to shield her own anxieties, and insisted on seeing the engagement ring, both out of sheer nosiness and at a desire to change the subject.

All while Billy's hands clasped the kitchen counter tightly, the anxiety of feeling judged made his other vulnerabilities bubble to the surface. And even when he closed his eyes tightly, he could still feel the fear he had felt in the driver's seat of that car, the guilt he still feels for putting her…the woman he loved, in a position of danger.

It was nearly enough to make him break down every time.

Abi entered the kitchen to find Billy standing by the sink, his posture tense and his expression troubled. The clinking of glasses halted as Billy turned, startled by Abi's presence.

"Billy," Abi's voice was firm, tinged with disappointment. "We need to talk."

Billy's shoulders stiffened, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face. "Abi, I..." he began, but Abi held up a hand, silencing him.

“I won't mince words here, Billy. I am beyond fucked off at what you did.” Abi’s gaze bore into Billy's, unyielding. The weight of Abi's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a reminder of the consequences of his actions.

"I know," Billy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I fucked up, pal..."

Abi's expression softened slightly, a flicker of understanding breaking through his stern facade. "Look, Billy, I get it. I understand that you were in a dark place, but that's no excuse for what you did. Yes, you’ve tested all of our trust, but you could have seriously hurt someone, mate."

Guilt gnawed at Billy's insides, a knot tightening in his stomach as he struggled to find the right words. "I know, Abi. I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just...lost, you know?"

Billy's voice quivered as he continued, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He couldn’t even really look at the man in front of him anymore, his vision was so misty.

"I have nightmares, Abi. Every night, I see her in that car, scared and vulnerable because of me," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "And the guilt...it's eating me alive. I can't shake the feeling that I've let everyone down, especially her."

Abi's expression softened further, a pang of empathy washing over him as he listened to Billy's words. "Mate, I can't imagine what you're going through," he said gently, his voice tinged with compassion. "But you can't let this define you, Billy. You've got to find a way to move forward, to make things right."

Billy nodded, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his burdens. "I'm trying," he said earnestly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I've done."

Abi sighed, his gaze soft yet determined as he met Billy's tear-filled eyes. "Listen, Billy," he began, his tone firm but gentle. "I believe you when you say you're sorry, and I understand that you're struggling. But that doesn't mean you get a free pass. You messed up, mate, big time."

Billy nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he swallowed back his emotions. "I know, Abi. And I'm willing to do better," he said, his voice filled with resolve.

Abi gave him a reassuring smile. "Good," he said, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "Because we're going to hold you accountable, mate. Not out of spite or anger, but because we care about you. We want to see you learn from this, grow from it." There was a beat before a more teasing smile crept across Abi’s face, “and no more bitching and whining either.”

Billy managed a weak laugh, grateful for Abi's attempt to lighten the mood.

Abi's smile widened, the tension in the room easing slightly to make way for camaraderie. "And who knows, maybe one day we'll look back on this and laugh," he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "But until then, come here you mardy fucker."

As the weight of their conversation hung in the air, Abi reached out, pulling Billy into a hard and firm hug. In that moment, amidst the quiet of the kitchen, they both knew that forgiveness would be a long and arduous journey. But together, they would face it, one step at a time. As friends.

“Ummmm, Billy, that’s my fiance!” Libby shouted from the garden. 

The tension broke with Libs' unexpected interruption, her voice carrying through the open door. Billy and Abi exchanged sheepish grins before stepping back from their impromptu embrace.

"Sorry about that," Billy muttered, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as he wiped away the traces of tears.

Abi chuckled softly, a warmth settling in his chest at the sight of his friend's vulnerability. "No worries, mate," he replied, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "We've got plenty of time for heartfelt moments later. Right now, let's go join the celebration."

“Congrats, by the way.”

Abi gave him a warm smile and gestured with his head towards the two women gossipping by the sun-loungers, “you too,” he replied with a raised eyebrow.

A blush crept again to Billy’s cheek as he shoved Abi’s shoulder casually, “shut up.”

With a shared laugh, Billy and Abi made their way back to the garden, leaving the weight of their conversation behind in the kitchen. As they rejoined the group, laughter and chatter filled the air, a reminder that amidst the challenges and struggles, there was still joy and camaraderie to be found. 

Under the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, the garden came alive with laughter and chatter as friends gathered around the barbecue. The smell of sizzling sausages and burgers filled the air, mingling with a summery aroma.

The other lads had given Billy a ribbing, but had very much followed in Abi’s approval, and once they too became aware that all was forgiven (pending the proof that Billy was going to do better), it was all smiles and gentle banter.

Paddy and Harry, self-proclaimed kings of the barbecue, manned the grill with gusto, though Billy couldn't help but chuckle at Paddy's attempts to get the burgers just medium well, which he was thus failing to do.

It was nice to laugh with them again, after all these months. And he felt the warm afternoon pleasant on his skin, a cold bottle of beer in one hand as he glanced over at the two girls on the other side of the garden. They sat, engrossed in conversation, probably pertaining to Libby's interest in their relationship judging by her wide-eyed expression.

He found himself trailing his eyes over her as if he couldn't believe she existed. Or rather like he couldn't believe that after everything, she was with him. It was like his heart was so swollen with love it ached.

She was like a dream, a breath of fresh air. And he had been through hell and back with her, and yet she still managed to look every bit as beautiful as the day he lost her all those years ago. 

The littlest thing, from the way she slung her hair over her shoulder, to the way she readjusted the hem of her dress everytime she crossed her bare legs. Even, Billy shamefully thought, the little peek of her bare chest between the buttons at the front of her dress.

Torn from conversation, she felt her phone buzz and looked right up at him, “Billy-” she called, ushering him over.

He felt his heart go fast.

The verdict.

Libby, always the saviour, “go upstairs if you want, for some privacy.”

Hand in hand, they ascended the stairs, their hearts pounding with nervous anticipation. Squeezing into the guest bedroom, they stood close together, seeking comfort in each other's presence. Billy wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tightly as she answered and set it on speakerphone.

“Hello?”

The solicitor's voice came through calmly, giving little indication of the news he was about to deliver. “Afternoon. I've just left court.”

“And?” Billy's voice trembled with anxiety, his grip on her tightening.

There was a pregnant pause, and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Three life sentences. And they're whole life orders, so he's not seeing the sun again.”

Relief flooded through them, a heavy weight lifting from their shoulders. Three life sentences meant that Karl would be behind bars for the rest of his life, never again posing a threat to society or to them. It was the justice they had hoped for, the closure they desperately needed. She felt Billy’s chest deflate, a stuttering breath leaking out with a sense of safety replacing the trepidation.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the phone, her voice choked with both emotion and happiness, her fingers shaking with excitement.

The solicitor's voice softened. “You're welcome. Take care, both of you.”

As they ended the call, a wave of relief washed over them, mingling with the bubbling excitement that their future held. She couldn't contain her joy, letting out a squeal of delight that echoed through the room, a pure expression of the happiness that coursed through her veins. Billy's heart swelled with happiness at the sound, his own relief merging with her infectious joy.

In one fluid motion, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace that mirrored the depth of their shared elation. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, as if afraid that this moment might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Their laughter mingled in the air, a symphony of happiness that filled the room.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, taking in the familiar scent that was uniquely him. It was a comforting blend of his natural scent and the faint aroma of beer, a reminder of the simple pleasures of life.

Feeling the surge of emotion coursing through him, Billy couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to express his joy in the most primal way possible. With a sudden, yet gentle movement, he tilted her chin upwards, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of his love and longing.

At first, she was surprised by his sudden boldness, but the warmth of his lips against hers quickly melted away any hesitation. She responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she deepened the kiss, their bodies pressing together in a rush of desire and anticipation. All the pent-up emotions of the past months spilled over, their kiss grew more fervent, more urgent, as if they were trying to convey all the love and passion they felt for each other in that single, electrifying moment.

Their breath mingled in the air, coming in ragged gasps as they broke apart, their eyes locked in a heated gaze. Billy’s forehead pressed to hers as he glanced down, his hand stealing between her thighs to rub at that sensitive spot over her underwear with infuriating accuracy. Her lips parted, cheeks flushed as a bolt of desire made its way up her spine at his touch, “Billy-” she managed in a breath, voice quivering with a quiet excitement at his brazen desire.

“Fucking love you.”

When his other hand bunched her dress up, he left goosebumps on her skin, but she didn’t complain. Even though it was both incredibly risky and wrong to do this when their friends were likely waiting with bated breath downstairs, it was exhilarating to be wanted like this so desperately. And she couldn’t deny herself, with his touch igniting it, that she wanted it too. She slid her hand down his chest to his jeans and ran her palm over his rapidly growing erection, strained against the fabric, and assisted him in undoing the button.

No sooner was her hand down the front of his boxers stroking his length with a languid touch was Billy hooking her leg around his waist, pressing her back against the wall of the guest bedroom. 

Their lips locked and tongues seeking each other with ragged breathing as she held on onto his shoulder to keep herself stable, only to shudder when he pulled the gusset of her underwear aside and slid into her with one confident thrust. Though aroused somewhat, the spontaneity of the tryst had her lips parting with the pleasant sting as he pushed his way into her, but it only served to heighten her desire for him.

“Fuck-”

He whispered against her lips, bottoming out with a groan inside her, one hand clamped around her leg to keep it around his waist. With every lazy thrust into her, white-hot pleasure hummed up her spine, the feeling of being stretched around him one she'd never tire of. 

His breath batted against her neck, hips pushing her harder against the wall, and when she let out a moan that was far too loud for comfort, a lazy smile made its way to Billy's lips as he shushed her.

“Be quiet-”

The duality of the moment, the wholesomeness of their bond and the fact they were having a quickie here of all places made her erupt in a quiet laugh, “sorry-”

Billy laughed too, until his brows knitted together and his stomach muscles strained at the added stimulation around his length, “fuck, don't laugh-”

“-sorry.”

He surged forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss to muffle her voice, thrusting up into her with heightening intensity. And she tightened her grip on his shoulders and with a stifled moan tightened around him as well, her body trembling with climax, her skin hot and tacky from the primal energy.

She could see the strain of his muscles and how much effort it took for him to clear his mind enough to pull out of her, painting the inside of her thighs with a quiet groan.

Even in the afterglow of sex, being held by him, with his rapidly drying spend on her legs, completely out of breath, all she felt was relief and sheer happiness. And it was impossible to stop the lazy smile on her flushed face, her eyes taking every bit of his face in.

Billy closed his eyes and leaned into her hair when she brushed his moistened hair from his eyes. His lips grazed her palm, and she felt her heart squeeze.

“We should get back downstairs..” she uttered softly.

Billy let out a light laugh and lowered her, pulling his jeans back together to button them up, “right, yeah, sorry-”

She raised on her tiptoes, praising him with a quick kiss, “I'm not complaining,” she smiled, still partly out of breath, “just let me get cleaned up and we'll go down together.”

Neither did a good job of hiding the blushes on their faces as they rejoined the group outside, met with knowing glances and barely-hidden smirks, though she had fixed her hair and made sure there were no obvious hand prints on her legs.

She and Billy slipped back into the group seamlessly, their smiles bright and their laughter genuine. They shared stories and jokes, and added the result of the verdict to the reason for celebration.

Even when the sun dipped beneath the buildings, the air was warm and comforting on their skin, a feeling of contentment warmed their hearts. And every now and then, when Billy showed outward affection, with a hand on her waist or a peck to the cheek, Libby would let out a half-drunk squeal and nearly start bawling about how happy she was for them.

The group felt whole for the first time in months.

While collecting glasses and bottles, as the afternoon turned to evening, Harry elbowed Billy in the ribs, with a boyish and cheeky expression.

“Told her you love her yet?”

Billy flushed, and chanced a glance outside, where she and Libby were setting up the fire pit for the evening. For some reason, something as simple as her raising her arms to tie up her hair stirred that familiar feeling in him, the same as when he'd had her in the guest bedroom not a few hours before.

He wet his lips, and thought with an ache in his heart, that he'd always feel this way about her. And Billy finally responded.

“Something like that, mate.”

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[bitchlessdino]

When We Didn't (m)

A SVTHUB COLLAB

Pairing: afab!reader x jihoon

Genre: fluff, slice of life, angst, smut

word count: 4.9k

tags: extrovert!reader, opposites attract, flashbacks, college au, slow burn, pussy drunk!Jihoon, slight exhibitionism, oral (f. recieving), fingering

Summary: Remember when we almost? But we didn’t. And now what, you’re gonna sit alone, underneath your barely standing Christmas tree and not expect me to sit next to you? Maybe we should’ve.

author note: make sure to check out all the other member this collab at this link or @svthub !

5 years ago

You scramble to get to the first class of the morning, thinking to yourself it should’ve been a crime to have classes before 10 am. It was the first day of freshman year and you were already late.

The lecture hall was packed to the brim seconds before classes would start. You’d scan the descending seats, hopeful for even a few inches of space. A faint voice starts to speak out next to you and looking down you see a man with utterly soft fairytale-like features. He initially stuns you at first until you realize he’s telling you there’s an empty seat next to him and you whisper to him plenty of words of thanks.

You settle beside him, taking out things from your backpack, throwing quick glances back at him, and eventually realize the severity of your consequences when you notice how you forgot to pack all the necessary items for your first day. “Fuck.”

The quiet man nonchalantly offers a pen, peeking through his specs. “Here.”

“Really?” You take it from his grasp. “Thank you.”

He nods and turns back mindlessly to his journal, preparing himself for the note-taking. After some more scrambling, you sheepishly poke at his shoulder and avert his attention back on you, seeing that awkward apologetic grin on your face. “I don’t want to bother you again, but can I have a sheet of paper?”

He nods, tearing one out and handing it to you the same way he had the pen, which you accepted graciously. “And…I didn't bring my textbook so–”

“I’m not tearing you pages from my textbook because you don’t have yours.”

“Not that,” you reassure, unsure whether he made a joke or if he actually thought you’d ask that of him, “If you don’t mind sharing, that’d be great. It’d only ever be for one time.”

The man sighs, begrudgingly pushing his book until it centers the both of you. “There.”

“Thank you,” you whisper and scoot closer to him, almost too close for comfort.

He pays you no mind for the rest of the time, even when you cross the invisible lines that were essential to common courtesy. He knew he just had to deal with it one day (which was far from the actual truth), and lucky for him, you knew how to be quiet for the most part anyway. The class came to an end eventually and he was grateful for that, he just had two more classes for the rest of the day. Picking up his belongings, you block off his path with a smile.

“Thanks again,” You bring out your hand for him to shake, “I’m Y/n.”

“Jihoon.” He answers plainly, barely reciprocating your gesture before getting up to follow everyone else through the exits.

You mouth his name as if committing it to memory and was quick to get a step behind him. “You should let me thank you sometime…Jihoon.”

“That’s not necessary.”

You halt in front of him before he could exit the doors. “At least a coffee. We are gonna be classmates after all.”

He sighs, avoiding those puppy eyes that come naturally to your golden retriever energy. He usually avoided people like you. People like you were draining, distracting, and he’d rather stay cooped up in his apartment rewatching Inuyasha for the thousandth time. 

Yet.

 “Just a coffee?”

Your eyes light up like the fourth of July. “And your insta?”

Present Day Christmas Eve

“But I wanted to celebrate Christmas with you,” You whine over the phone.

Your mother’s reassuring voice resonated from your phone. “Sweetie, you’re young and able-bodied, you’ll find something better to do than hanging around two old coots.”

“Well, you old coots have a one way trip to Hawaii, how will I top that?”

It turns out your parents hit the jackpot on some bingo night at the community center and would be traveling without you. No doubt, it hurt that you wouldn’t be going, but it hurt more that you wouldn’t be with your family since you spent pretty much every Christmas with each other. It was like things were changing before your eyes. You were growing older and older and you weren’t their little kid anymore. You were on your own.

“There’s always next year, sweetheart.”

You sigh defeatedly and hang up before trying someone else. The dial tone became an incessant noise in your ear after several attempts of contacting your friends. The messages blew up soon after rejection and apologies. Who knew on the Eve of Christmas no one would be available? (Of course, you knew but it couldn’t help to try).

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” 

Groaning into the phone in frustration, almost sobbing into the phone about to hear another rejection come from a loved one’s lips. “You’re kidding.”

“This is me and Mingyu’s first Christmas together. Maybe try Cheol? Yeri? Joshua?”

“They’ve been talking about their alps for months!” You slump in your loveseat and whimper into the cushions. You could hear your friend’s sigh of pity on the other line. “Come on, there has to be one other person in your same predicament.”

“I don’t know about that.”

You've gone up and down your contact list, almost closing in on coworker numbers, and acquaintances, including a hookup that slipped his number in your phone without looking. Even that sounded tempting at this point. Lucky for you, you weren’t that desperate.

There was one last person you thought to call though. They’re also the first person you thought to spend Christmas with besides family. A person that you thought could spend all your time with. The question was whether he wanted to spend such a holiday with you. 

Sometime after your first encounter

Jihoon planned to continue his quaint life as a college student, but you didn’t make it easy. Despite the lack of assigned seating, you made sure to take the seat next to him every day, waving at him when you enter the classroom after him a beat later. You made sure you wouldn’t come to class late again just to sit next to him.

“Hi, desk mate—I mean Jihoon. See I remembered.”

He sees you take your seat, settling in on the fact that there was pretty much his designated seat now no matter how early he arrives, “Hey.”

Taking his things out of his bag to be blindsided by you who pushes packaged convenience food in front of him. “Breakfast!”

“You said it’d only be coffee.” He points out a matter of fact.

“I did.” You point to bottled expresso. “Right there. Everything else is interest.”

He sighs, taking the coffee and stuffing it in his bag. “I’ll just take this. Thanks.”

“Come on, you’ll be hungry later.”

He flips through pages of his textbook, happy being using it alone, “I’ll survive.”

You somehow became a thorn in his side seeing you routinely and he made no effort in changing that. Where he was, you went. You made yourself nearly impossible to avoid. Over time, he found himself relying on you because of it. Though he found you a nuisance at times, it wasn’t all bad. You were chirpy and clingy, but that proved yourself to be useful at times.

“Shit!”

Jihoon never runs for a few reasons: it’s tiring, he gets sweaty, and he gets red. Really red. So, being tardy to lectures was not on the agenda, until the day he had no choice.

He burst through the lecture hall much like your first day, late for the first time ever in his life, he blames it all on his dorm mate that came home drunk and insisted on him dancing with him in the middle of the common area for no reason and cleaning up his puke soon after (yeah maybe his roommate’s name rhymes with toonyoung). 

He tries getting to a seat inconspicuously as possible if any were available, and that’s when he hears your harsh whisper. Your hand waves him over and pointed at the seat next to you that had your backpack currently occupying it.

He sighs but nods at you in a quiet thanks before accepting the invitation. You grin from ear to ear watching him get in his seat and pass him a Pocari sweat, like some kind of guardian angel. “You’re a bit red. Have at it.”

He gulps looking back at the refreshment and accepts it before chugging half of it down in desperation. “Thank you.”

“There’s always more if you need it.” You lightly nudge him before directing your attention to the lecture.

He glances back at you, wondering how you always keep that optimistic smile on your face relentlessly, how you never grow tired, and he starts to think about what motivates it all. You were an average student like he is. What was there to smile about?

Class ends again like aways and much like other days, here you were following him like a newborn puppy. Most days he ignored you, but that day he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he felt a sense of gratitude. 

“Does this mean you’ll let me have your insta now?”

Not stopping in his stride, he flattens out his hand in your direction. “Phone.”

“Really?” You ask as happily as a child, already taking it out and unlocking it before handing it to him.

He immediately pulls up your contact list and adds himself in, his name as plain and straightforward as possible. He hands it back to you. “I put in my number. I don’t have Instagram.”

“That’s fine! I can call you all the time now.”

You try retrieving it before he pulls it away with an authoritative expression.  “Not all the time.”

“Alright, alright.” Finally grabbing hold and editing the name by adding a heart to the end. “So, what’s the rest of our day look like?”

Present day Christmas Eve

“Y/n.”

Your relationship with Jihoon now was hard to put into words. You were no longer classmates, and now you even wonder if you are even classified as friends. Your history was everything but nothing all at once. If you had a gun pointed at your head, your brain wouldn’t process the answer fast enough to save yourself. Just exactly what were you to each other? Better yet, what were you to him.”

“What’s up?”

He could hear your signature chipper on the other line, somehow weirdly nostalgic. “You called me.”

“I know, but it’s Christmas Eve, what are you doing?”

“Mmh, just, around.”

You scratch your head at his vague answer. Jihoon was indeed a man of few words but not that few. “You’re alone, aren’t you?”

Jihoon may have forgotten about the holidays coming around the corner and made no plans, but that was easy being the workaholic he was. He clears his throat, lingering in the awkward silence he’s put upon himself, “…Well—“

You shake your head at him as if he could see you, “Oh god, you are. I’m coming over.”

He could hear you rustling in the background, eyes rapidly blinking at his realization. “W-w-why?”

“Well, because.” You answer, the rattle of your keys heard through the phone.

He blinks, awaiting for other words to follow only for them to never do. “Because?”

“Yeah. Because.” You bite your lips, hoping he doesn’t hear how hard you’re smiling. 

“…Don’t you have plans?”

You hum, breaking out into that smile you tried suppressing. “I do. With you.”

Last year of college

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

Jihoon was open about being a hermit. He didn’t make an effort to go to places like parties, clubs, or even school events. Not that he didn’t get invited, because he had plenty of invites, trust him. He just thought it was a desperate attempt for most people to do the inevitable: get drunk, get laid, or get embarrassed. 

“I don’t like parties.”

“But I’ll be there.” You tug his arm, pleading with him with your eyes.

He pulls himself away from your grasp. “More than enough reason not to go.”

“You love me don’t lie. I’m the light of your life.”

The unamused look on his face told you otherwise but despite the protests, you convince him somehow to come through. Never in this lifetime did he think someone could persuade him to willingly go to a frat party and now here he was with his peers, who were all drunk and out of their minds, including you.

You had plenty of drink, quickly becoming one with the music and atmosphere that almost worried the introvert. If you weren’t careful and he hadn’t been around, who knows what would’ve happened? Even if you had been annoying, you became tolerable, he desire no ill will disposed on you.

You cling to him harsher than you usually do, which he let happen. The stench of cheap beer and wine coolers staining your clothes and breath. Jihoon knew who could’ve been in a better situation, but at this moment it could’ve been worse. If not for you, there’d be more people coming up to him that he could help without pestering him to drink, play beer pong, or something of the equivalent. You were more than the perfect excuse to do no more socializing than necessary. So as far as he knew it, tonight should’ve been just fine.

“Jihoon…Jihoon…” You play chopsticks on his shoulders, imagining them as a big piano.

“What?” He answers, nudging you off him.

You drape your limp arms over him. Your hot breath tickles his cheeks, which on grew pinker from the body heat. “I’m like, super, fucked…”

Of course, the downside of all this was you were drunk enough on behalf of everyone else attending this party combined.

He rolls his eyes knowingly, a taut grin on his face as he tried helping you from falling over in your seat. “I know. I was there when you almost drank yourself to death.”

“But, but…I have a secret…shhhh, don’t tell anyone.”

He shrugs his shoulders, mindlessly tending and listening to the ramblings of a drunk college student. “Who would I tell?”

You stabilize yourself against him, cupping a hand to his ear. “To be honest…I like you a lot…”

He softly scoffs in disbelief. He pushes away sweaty strands of your hair away from your forehead before flicking it lightly, tossing you back with a giggle leaving your lips. “I see…Well, that’s a shame. I tolerate you.”

You pout childishly, latching to his bicep helplessly, “That’s okay...”

He pinches his nose, “…You reek of alcohol.”

“I should reek of you.” 

“That made absolutely no sense.” He says, playing dumb.

“It means…I want to kiss you.”

He didn’t like how that affected him. Even with his sobriety, he could feel how his heart’s pace match yours without delay. This awe-stricken gaze in your eyes he couldn’t comprehend paired with the sweet image of your puckered lips aiming towards his face. Why was he even a little bit tempted? 

His palm falls flat against your lips, protecting you, and maybe even himself, from a mistake waiting to happen. “…You’re drunk…You’ll forget all this next morning.”

And that’s what happened. After that night, you puked your guts out, holding on to the toilet bowl for dear life, and were knocked out soon after with the aid of Jihoon and your dormmates. You don’t remember a wink of that night, waking up the next day with a headache and Tylenol with water by your bedside. You don’t remember your drunk confession, or the way you openly threw yourself at him, nor the look in his eyes when you admitted it. 

Jihoon, however, remembered everything. It haunted him. He feared it happening ever again. He couldn’t like you and you weren’t supposed to like him. It was better off this way. Right?

Present day Christmas Eve

Although a lot of things changed, a lot still didn't. Jihoon still didn’t drink, but he had to have been drunk if you were actually standing in the middle of his apartment right now with a grocery Christmas ham and a carton of eggnog (the worst possible combination by the way). Your all too familiar smile woke up the pit of his stomach that was vacant when he last saw you. It brought back that same fear again. A part of himself wanted to close the door on you but every other fiber in being was resilient against it. 

So now here you were, heading to his kitchen, placing the eggnog in his fridge, and taking out the grocery ham from its packaging. “I’d have more food, but I was in charge of the ham and eggnog this year. The turkey’s less popular cousin and the season’s choice of drink: dairy…I obviously got the shorter straw. Ha-ha mom and dad.”

His eyes just curiously followed your every move, wondering what made you decide to be here of all places after all this time. You raid his cabinets like it's your own home, taking out a small sum of food he had, thinking to yourself that you could probably conjure up something appetizing. Otherwise, it was gonna be coke zero for dinner, which didn’t sound too bad at this point. “Thank god you have more than ramen in here. I was worried I was gonna have to throw you an intervention after visiting.”

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” He finally asks.

You look up from your busy hand and meet his eyes, still unreadable and solemn. “I’m celebrating Christmas with you.”

“Why?”

“Why not–Oh my god, you have a tree.” You approach his barely hanging tree that was only a foot taller than its owner. “This is…cute. Questionable how it’s still standing, but cute.”

He raises a brow, “Now, you’re insulting my tree?”

“I said it's cute, didn't I?”

Jihoon felt his lips twitch in an almost smile. “You’re annoying as always.”

“Nice seeing you too Jihoon.”

Last year in December 

“Funny. I thought you two would be going out by now, not, what’s his face, Wonwoo.”

You were often seen around the guy, chatting, laughing, and sympathizing. Wonwoo was part of your Latin History lecture and he knew how to keep you entertained. Rumor had it that you were seen spending more than platonic time together. It was almost the amount of time you were used to spending with Jihoon, if not more.

“Yeah, well. Up to them.”

Soonyoung looked back at his roommate with concern. Despite Jihoon having not said a word, His feelings for you were blossoming before Soonyoungs eyes and he finds his roommates wandering your presence. He felt the shorter man open up more because of you and maybe he could find his own happiness someday. 

It was all until Wonwoo came into the picture. Tall, handsome, and sensitive. Untouchable, compare to Jihoon. 

“He’s not even all that …okay, that’s a lie. I’m huffing copium right now, he’s gorgeous,” he admits as he scrolls through the spoken man’s instagram.

“What’s your point, Soonyoung?”

Jihoon lacked life in his eyes and if it was possible, Soonyoung could’ve heard his own heart shatter at the sight.

“Just..hang in there, buddy.” The blonde pats his peer on the back, and his ineffective reassurance goes unnoticed.

Whatever the hyperactive roommate meant was none of Jihoon’s concern. He was busy ignoring the erupting feelings he had for you. To make the matter worse, he had to deal with the fact that he perhaps lost the many chances to act on his feelings. For all he knew, Wonwoo could’ve been the real deal.

But then again, that wasn’t any of his business.

“Hey stranger,” You sit beside him in a place you were both familiar with. 

He smells the whiff of hot cocoa with a hit of peppermint emitting from your cup. It was your usual. You placed it next to his toffee latte, sweeter than what he’s used to, but free of charge thanks to Seokmin who oozed desire for validation. He convinced himself that it was the caffeine making his heart twitch. “Hey.”

“Excited for winter break?”

“That’s…a word to describe it for someone.” He veers back to his laptop, pretending to work.

“What no plans again?” You pester with a playful smile, leisurely sipping.

Jihoon simply shrugs. “No.”

This was your favorite time of year and you believed everyone deserved to have a good time on this specific occasion. Every year, you spent it with family, presents, and dinner, just cherishing everything you had to be grateful for. It was contrary to Jihoon who had spent alone every year since college. His family was thousands of miles away from him and a ticket to reach them would've cost a leg and an arm. This was a lonely season for him.

“How about spending the holiday with me and my family this year?”

He pauses his movement to look up at you, your smile lets his infatuation for you fester like a disease, grinning cheek to cheek in that cute way it does which was indescribably delightful. He could feel his heart swell, the sweat on his forehead pour, and the unsettlement of his legs shake. It was only some time ago he came to terms with his feelings but the truth of the matter was he was never good with feelings. They were too intense for him to understand and he knew that only meant immense disappointment in the end. He wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“I think you should be with Wonwoo.” He returns back to his screen, typing the same word over and over again, “Good reason to check out the lights they put out in town.”

You scoff, your heart swelling for an entirely different reason. “Do you really mean that? You really rather I spend Christmas with Wonwoo than with you?”

There was this look in your eye and sternness in your tone. He had never heard something like that come out of you before, but he couldn’t help it. Self-sabotage came out naturally at this point. You being hurt was only momentarily, he reassures himself. He was doing the both of you a favor.

“Yeah. I think that’s the best use of your time.”

“…Fine.”

You pick yourself up to leave, tears brimming your eyes before finally walking towards the exit where the windchimes followed.  The cold winter air hit you like a slap in the face, quickly drying the hot tears that came running down your cheeks. 

This was it for you. You were done trying. For good this time.

Present day, Christmas Eve 

When you insisted on helping him fix up his tree, you noticed how pretty looked under the Christmas fluorescent lights. He never realized that until now. Probably because he never had the chance. 

Your attention to detail was admittedly admirable. He was glad that part of you hadn’t changed. 

“I thought about this probably a thousand times, you know.”

“What?” Jihoon entertains.

You step down from the stepping stool to put it away after you gave the tree some finishing touches. Thank god for the popcorn in his pantry. “Spending Christmas with you. It was really hard to come here. And I'm not talking about several feet of snow I had to plow through to get here.” 

“Why would you do that for me?”

You scoff, finding it ridiculous how easily he ignores the obvious. “I don’t know. Because you’re my friend. You deserve a nice Christmas. I like doing things out of the good of my heart. Like I was gonna leave you alone? Again?”

“What about you? Didn’t you have anyone to celebrate with?”

You roll your eyes. “Not the point.”

“Seems like the major point.” He retorts, almost sounding amused.

You sigh, walking towards him, “Yeah, everyone else canceled on me, but I’m glad that out of everyone you were available.”

“So I was last choice?”

You furrow your brows. “No, god, could you drop it? ”

“Just why spend Christmas here then?”

“Because I like you!” You shake your body furiously as you threw a tantrum, close to pulling your hair out from the roots. “God, knows why? You’re cold, mean, and distant. You couldn’t be more disinterested and it’s infuriating.”

“Why like me then?”

You body goes limp, clenching your fist helplessly, “I don’t know. Sometimes you were nice to me. It felt nice. And I hope that maybe…that meant something. Then you’d go ignore me like I did something wrong…I never had to work for it before.”

You felt your head spinning in circles. You were too old for this shit. You weakly falling to your knees, Jihoon quickly following to meet your level. “H-hey–”

“I thought if I approached you enough maybe you’d like me back. No matter how hard I tried, you wouldn’t do anything! God, was I naive and stupid. I should’ve never had co—“

Jihoon leans forward and kisses you square center on your lips, stealing your words and breath away. The pressure of his plush cushion makes your frustration dissipate; his hand takes the side of your head, stroking you tenderly. He parts from you when he feels your body calm down, looking back into your eyes glistening in the tears you didn’t realize you had shed.

“Maybe they worked…so your methods weren’t all terrible.”

You were the quiet one for once. His rare smile perks up his face, eyes filled with love and sincerity. You gaze at him as he hugs your cheek with his hands and wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He embraces your shaking body, soothing your back with the cool palm of his hand.

“...You’re such an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorr—”

You tug on his sweater to reclaim him, melting into his sweet warmth, finally. You were over the moon. It only took you roughly five years. You finally had him where you wanted and now you were never willing to let him go. Five years all worth the wait.

Present day, New Year’s Eve

“Mmh, hmm…”

“Are you sure you’re getting this all down?”

“P-positive.”

Jihoon chuckles at your disposal. The vibrations of his soft laughter vibrate through your core and are quickly followed by the harsh stripe guided by his tongue. His arms underneath and around your thighs had your legs pressed against his cheeks, thumb teasing the shape of your clit before he’s pinching it as he engorges on your warmth. You hold the phone away from you briefly to whisper a ‘good god,’ and return to the conversation at hand.

“And you’re making sure Jihoon’s going. How did you manage that?”

“Oh,” you chuckle nervously, “just some, mmh, convincing.”

“Knew you could do it. He always did have a soft spot for you. Well, let me know what exactly you do also because I’ve been trying to get him to DJ my wedding all year—“

“Oh…right,” you bit your lips when you feel Jihoon’s tongue fuck inside you, tasting your insides and spreading you open. 

His grunts were soft but coherent, exhibiting the satisfaction he was tasting inside you, sucking against your folds, dribbling his spit and your moisture all over his chin and neck. He can’t help but dig deeper, getting his nose in the action. He practically loses all his senses at this point, but he didn’t care; not that he couldn’t breathe, or how his heart pounded, or that you were on the phone with someone. You were worth the wait.

“Anyways, when are you coming?”

“Oh…soon…” You slur, hardly listening to a word.

Jihoon snickers.

“Great, because I know I said seven but since you’re bringing—“

Jihoon snatches the phone from you and puts the phone mic next to his swollen lips, “We’ll get there when we get there, Seungkwan.”

“Wait, Jihoon? You were with—wait are y’all l—YOU NAST—“

Jihoon hangs up before the younger man can finish, tossing the phone randomly somewhere on the bed, and is finally able to let you finish.

“B-baby…he definitely knows now…” you whine.

“Fuck, if I care. Just focus on me, hmm, you taste so fucking good.”

He brings your legs up to leverage you in the air. On his knees and your legs on either of his shoulders, he devours you ambitiously, fingers fucking your knuckles deep in until he feels you shake an earthquake. You shout his name without remorse, begging for more.

“I’m really about to cum, Jihoon. Please, can I?”

Your voice laced with honey, you look up at him with tears in your eyes, sweat beading down your forehead, Jihoon couldn't help but let you do whatever you want with him. “...In my mouth.”

He latched himself on you, tongue fucking your insides as he ran his fingers rampage along with it. Your hips twitch in his embrace until you're practically thrashing in bed, clutching pillows, throwing them aside, lacking almost all control of your limbs. When he comes back up to the surface for air, he’s wiping the mess on his face with the back of his hand.

“You’re a mess,” You laugh, heaving your chest.

“Speak for yourself.”

You snicker only to quickly be brought back to reality. “We do need to get those groceries though. Seungkwan needs them.”

He raises a brow at you, readjusting his legs to pin you by your wrist, that smile to first appear a few days ago not seeming to waver in the slightest. “Sounds like I haven’t tire you out enough.”

“Baby—“

“I have more work to do.”

Giggling, you feel him embracing your sweaty form beneath him, peppering kisses all over you neck and cheeks until the finally reach your lips, chasteful compared to the event just few moments ago. You smile against his kiss, “I guess we still have some time?”

He strokes your hair, kissing your forehead. “Of course, to make up for the times when we didn’t.”

#svthub.collab #svthub #woozi smut #seventeen smut #lee jihoon smut #seventeen woozi #woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen #seventeen jihoon #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #woozi x you #woozi x y/n

[blackoutspoetry]

"He's already five, he can take care of himself" – baby Soap full scene

From this:

First few chapters on ao3 here:

July 18, 1999

“Mrs. MacTavish, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to be here with us,” the man behind the desk began, adjusting the pen holder to his left ever so slightly in a futile attempt to alleviate the tense atmosphere as he made earnest eye contact with the woman opposite him, ignoring the child in the chair next to her as best possible.

“Any time. The woman on the phone told me it was urgent. Did something happen, is John okay?” 

“Your son is fine, ma’am, but we have some concerns about his recent behaviour,” the principal continues and Mrs. MacTavish can almost immediately sense the unease in her son next to her. 

“His behaviour?” she asks with a frown. “Has he fallen behind in his classes?” 

She glances sideways at him, but the child refuses to meet her eyes, just keeps swinging his feet slightly under the plastic chair. 

“No, really. His grades are good. It's just– we’re concerned about his mental health.” 

“His mental health…” the woman repeats slowly. 

“Yes. is everything alright at home? I know it’s common for students to act out when their parents are having marital issues–” 

“My marriage is just fine, thank you, and we don’t have any other issues at home. So if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that I’m actually here for?” she asks impatiently and the principal gives her a slightly uncomfortable look. 

“John, do you want to tell your mother what happened?” 

Just a slight, sheepish shake of the head. 

“Tell me what?”

The man sighs. “Your son has gotten into a physical altercation with an older student. He broke the kid’s nose.” 

“John!” she shrieks in alarm. “Is this true?” 

He didn’t raise his head to face her. “He hit me first.” 

“So you hit him harder?” she asks incredulously before she turns back to the man on the opposite side of the desk, now sitting with his hands firmly clasped together in front of him. 

“Are you going to suspend him?”

“We’re not sure yet. The other boy has a history of bullying and getting violent, so it's difficult to distinguish between right and wrong here, but it isn’t the only thing we’re concerned about. Several teachers have come forward with some disturbing drawings he’s done in the margins of his books.” 

“I had to leave work early because he’s been drawing in his books?” 

“We’re more concerned about what he’s been drawing, Mrs. MacTavish,” he explains in uncomfortable tone before he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a crumpled piece of scrap paper meant for maths working, but half of it was taken up by a crude stickman drawing done in blunt pencil and coloured in with uneven streaks of red whiteboard marker. 

The wobbly picture depicted a man lying on the ground, surrounded in a scribble of red and another stick figure standing over it with what appeared to be the child’s best impression of a gun. The man on the ground was captioned in sloppy, childlike handwriting “RUSHIИ SOLJER”. 

The principal produced another picture depicting what looked to be a burning house and a man on fire. 

“How limited is his exposure to the situation in Urzikstan right now?” 

“Not very limited. My husband’s been following the situation since it began last month. It’s all he can talk about right now.” 

“Well, you may want to consider talking to your husband about limiting John’s exposure to the news. We’ll be in further contact with you if we do decide to take action, but for now, that’s all we really have an issue with.” 

Wrapping up with the general formalities, John sat in silence until his mother and the principal had finished discussing his school matters and prodded him into giving a begrudging apology for his behaviour. They sent him on his way with half his things out of his school bag in his hands and he refused to make eye contact with his mother as she opened the door for him and he shuffled in after his school things. 

The drive was a stale silence for a few minutes but she kept trying to make eye contact with him in the rear view mirror, despite his unwillingness. He gave her a glance a couple of minutes in and she took that as an opportunity to force him to speak. 

“Does that stuff on the news really bother you that much? I’ll tell your father not to watch it with you in the house, if that’s going to help you?” 

No response and she sighs. “Listen, I understand these things can make you upset. Other people, especially children your age, they can be mean. They just haven’t learned yet, but you can’t just hit them. You know, if an adult hits another adult, they can go to jail for that.”

Her eyes found him in the mirror, picking irritably at a hangnail with his teeth. 

“Johnny, will you talk to me?” 

“I’m not a little baby anymore, I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Alright, I won’t. But will you talk to me?” 

“Da says its good for me to know what’s going on in the world. He says age restriction is a load of shite,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and sinking further into his seat.  

“John!” she yelled. “You are not allowed to say that word. And I’m going to have a good talk with your father, he should know better than to let you watch that stuff.” 

“Whatever.” 

“What was that?” 

“...nothing.” 

By the time they reached home, John was eagerly shoveling overdue homework assignments back into his school bag and running up the driveway before his mother could corner him again. The door was half ajar, propped open with a doorstop for the dog to come in and out, and he could already here the TV from the front door before he emerged into the dining room right behind the couch. 

“Reports from earlier this morning confirm that a fresh wave of Russian forces have come in across the border. Following their attack on Riyzabbi last month, several of the civilian casualties are still in dire need of medical care and most are being treated in field hospitals with limited access to medicine and potable water. Efforts have been made to move those in critical condition to hospitals for urgent treatment, but as of this morning, with heightened Russian presence patrolling the roads, it has become nearly impossible to move patients out of the area.” 

John discarded his school bag by the foot of the table and glanced over at the TV, only slightly blocked out by his father’s head in the way as his eyes were still glued to the screen in grim fascination. His father clicks the sound button a couple of times as he hears his mother coming in at the door, turning to face her with a grim look on his face. 

“Did you see? They’ve got about the entire Russian army into Urzikstan overnight. They’ve now started putting young kids into labour camps–” 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t watch that stuff with the children around.”

John watches tight lipped as his mother walks irritably towards the TV and shuts it off. 

“I was watching that!” 

“The school called me in today. Say’s John’s been drawing all kinds of horrors from the TV in his books and he’s starting to pick fights with other boys.” 

“It’s not because of the TV.” 

“He broke a boy’s nose.” 

His father shoots him a look. “Is this true?” 

Before John can respond, his mother cuts in.  “It is. And now that we’re on that topic, you can go to your room and get started on all those overdue English assignments I heard about today and I don’t want to see you out that door until your sisters are home for dinner.” 

He clenches his jaw and opens his mouth to say something, but the warning look he receives from his mother makes him decide against it. Instead, he grabs his school bag and slinks off to his room, shutting the door behind him. 

Its a right mess in there. There’s little toy soldiers scattered across the carpet from the weekend, multicoloured lego walls he’d built and piles of loose bricks he’d artfully arranged to reenact the attack they’d showed on the news weeks before. 

On his desk under the window was a handful of plastic toy soldiers he’d singled out to impose himself and a few of his school friends onto. They’d rescue the injured, take care of the sick and kill the bad guys. He was just trying to do what’s right. 

Can’t his family see that? Can’t his teachers understand that he isn’t haunted by the images on the news and more so inspired to do good by it?

He frowns down at the scene on the carpet and dumps his school bag on his unmade bed. 

He’s only ever wanted to do what’s right. Nobody understands that. 

And so, he makes a decision for himself that will stick with him through his school years onwards. He’s going to be his own man. No one is ever going to tell him what he can and can’t be. 

He’s already five, he can take care of himself.  

#john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #fanfic #fanfiction #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap slow burn #ghoap fic #canon compliant #modern warfare ii fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #soap call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish

[the---hermit]

study to do list april - may 2024

I am back into my studying routine and so I am writing a master to do list for my uni work for the next couple of months. This is going to be edited so much in the next few weeks, but having a bit public to do list is a good way to stay motivated and track my progress during long periods. The end goal of the next couple of months is to take two exams in the summer session, I will pick the precise dates as I work on everything but they will either be in June or at the beginning of July. Both require me writing a paper before the oral exam, which is not something I have to do often so it's going to be extra work for me.

English lit

reread the merchant of venice while annotating all the useful passages for the paper

reread and adjust previously made annotations on MOV text

read and annotate the sources I had previously found

look for more sources for the paper

read and annotate said sources

plan paper structure

first draft

edit first draft

additional edits (?)

reread richard II (and rewrite annotations in pen)

reread important passages in paradise lost and rewrite annotations in pen

additional reread of the merchant of venice to prepar for the oral exam (so not focusing only on the paper topics)

write key words for each scene in the plays

reread assigned articles (RII, MOV, PL) write/check notes about them (RII, MOV, PL)

reread notes taken in class

read addtional notes friend sent me

out loud reviews

Modern history lab

fix notes after every lecture in order to stay on top of things

start writing down potential presentation/paper ideas

look for sources

read and annotate sources

outline of the paper

write first draft

edit draft

send to professor

#my list for the history lab is a bit small because we don't have big outlines yet so that will definitely get longer with time #starting from next week i will be focusing on my english lit paper on days in which i don't have class #it's so much work and i am super intimidated by the english lit peper and exam i just want to do historical work wtf #master to do list #study to do list #studying #studyblr #studyinspo #university #uniblr #mine #the---hermit

[redpanther23]

Starting in the spring of 2022, I began a magickal process known as the Abremalin Operation. It involves several months of prolonged solitude, which I spent in an abandoned house. I spent hours daily in deep meditation, and experienced profound personality changes and prolonged visions of deities and spirits. I also saw and heard UFOs, experienced poltergeist phenomena, and early on had strange episodes of sleep paralysis. My dreams have always been abnormally lucid and vivid, but I began to have an increase in premonitions (for example, I dreamed in April 2022 that on July 23, 2022 there would be an important party, and it turned out to be my friend's birthday, unbeknownst to me, as well as the first day that Sirius rises behind the sun, which was a festival in ancient Egypt, according to Robert Anton Wilson.)

I stayed in the house alone without power, from late April of 2022, until December of that year. In December you guys helped us turn the power on, and my roommates/cousins Jay Bird and Kenny moved in. By then I was deep in the ritual, and I knew the process was completed because I had to leave my home to begin the wandering phase of my life which I am currently in. After a Rong show in late April 2023 (which is a group ritual to honor Eris) I left for New England in early May.

Perhaps it would have been better to have documented my experiences as they happened in a journal, which all the western magicians recommend. However, I was so sure I would fail that I announced my plans to no one, and I didn't want the embarrassment of a catalogue of my failure. I also reasoned that the great medicine men of old in my tribe didn't even have pens or paper, and they did just fine.

I had visions of many spirits or deities, not all of them I could actually relate (most of them were incomprehensible, although they did change me profoundly, in a way that's impossible to describe.) Once while deep in meditation, I was visited by a six foot long king snake (I documented that here on this blog.)

I made invocations to Eris, Odin, Freya, Bastet, Thor, Dionysus, the panther, Baphomet, and Timothy Leary.

My clearest visions during the process were of Eris, Odin, Thor, Dr. Leary, and Aphrodite (who I didn't invoke, she came during a ritual dedicated to Odin.) These were experiences where I recieved a clear message and saw clear images of other realities. I still occaisionally have visions like these. During a vision while I was performing the operation, during a ritual to honor the panther, I recieved memories from another lifetime before mine, of someone who died in 1955. This was the last signal I recieved before the operation was completed.

#red panther speaks #magick

[zzzzombieboy]

ok full disclosure this is a stupid fic that i'm only writing because my friend promised me he would draw leon as a cowboy if i did

Leon Kennedy x M!Reader

Leon wanted to get away. He couldn't bear being in the cities anymore, not after what happened. The Midwest was tiring, given that was all he had been around. He wanted to head West, go to the coast, but that would prove to be more stressful than it was in his hometown. East had too many people, so his last resort was going south.

Ever since Leon was a boy, he had loved cowboys. He loved horses, and he always daydreamed about living on a ranch. The fact that he couldn’t ride a horse ruined the fantasy. But he was 22 now, and he could do whatever he wanted. He was an adult. He ended up Texas, out of the city and a more rural area. It was 1999, a hot summers day in July. It would be his first day working on the ranch.

He had driven to the ranch he would be working at by dirt road, lacking any signs or speed limits. He parked in a field, a rugged old wooden shack sitting beside it. There were two other cars next to him, one of which was a 1979 Trans-Am. Its tires were covered in dirt, clearly lacking a wash as of late.

When Leon got out of his car, he could feel the sun beaming down on his face. His outfit, a blue and white button up and a pair of blue jeans, was proving to be not that great of a choice for this 92° weather. He let out a soft sigh as he closed his car door behind him, pocketing his keys and bringing a hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the light of the large burning sun.

Leading from the parked cars was a small path of caved grass, dead against the dirt that lead to the shack ahead of him. He figured that's where he needed to go. He wasn't given any instructions anyways. He walked up the dirt path, arms by his sides until he reached the door. He opened it with a small breath, the warm air continuing to run through the non-conditioned shack.

Behind a desk was another worker. He held a pen in his hands as he worked on filling out a sheet of paper. Leon stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the floor but still causing the wood below him to creek at every step he took. The man behind the counter looked up from the paper, giving Leon a once over before clearing his throat. "How can I help ya?" he questioned, his voice low holding a southern drawl. Leon took in a soft breath, swiping his hand underneath his nose.

"I'm Leon Kennedy. It's uh, my first day." He told the man with a nod, pocketing his thumbs into his jeans. His midwestern accent was evident compared to the people he had heard. He was in the deep south now, and he stuck out like a sore thumb. The man raised a brow, titling his head to the right as he gave Leon another look. His eyes then widened out of remembrance.

He nodded, standing up out of his chair before reaching his hand out for Leon to shake. "Ah, right, Kennedy. You're gonna be workin' with them horses, right?" asked the man, a kind smile spreading across his lips. Leon gave the slightest smile back with a nod. "That's what I was told," replied Leon. The man let out a small breath from his nose as his smile grew a bit more wide. "Alrighty then. I'd say you should head over to the stable. There's gonna be another boy there that'll help you out. He's a bit quiet though, so, y'know, be patient." the man spoke nodding his head to the door that led right of the desk.

Leon lifted his brows a bit before giving a steady nod. "Okay. Uh, thank you." Leon gave another nod, before following the eyes of the man. The man tipped his hat to Leon as a way of saying good bye. Leon didn't have a hat, so the best he could do was return with a nod.

Leon exited the shack through the right hand door, walking back into the beaming heat. He felt blinded by the sudden light against his face, resorting to hovering his hand above his eyes to sheild from the glare. There was another dirt path he walked upon, this one leading directly to a much larger, more sturdy looking stable. The faint sounds of huffs from the horses were audible.

Leon approached the stable with his hands in his pockets, before pulling one out so that he could open the doors. His hand was tentative, he was bit nervous. He knew that someone would be behind the door. He just didn't know who. What would they be like? He hoped that he got along with them well, given that he was probably going to be working along with them for the foreseeable future.

He pushed the door open slowly, being met with the kind scent of manure and hay. His nose scrunched a bit, letting out a small groan from the back of his throat. His eyes squinted slightly as he looked down to the floor. His shoes had already gotten mud on them. He let out a short sigh before glancing back up to the room surrounding him. He could hear plenty of horses, seeing their stables. But at the very end of the rows, he saw a man.

The man held a carrot in his hand, the horse he was standing by nibbling on the veggie and letting out happy huffs. Against the mans face was a small smile, his lips curving upwards and forming a small crease in his skin. His arms, moreover his shoulders, were the most defined part of his body, given that he used most of the muscles in that area every day as he fed, brushed, and exercised the horses. Leon had clear sight of them. He wore a tank top, slightly dulled in color due to various dirt stains and general wear and tear over the years. On the bottom he wore worn jeans, small holes by the knees and the back of the leg, the base of them resting on the ground with brown tint. They seemed just a bit too big on him, having been wrapped around his waist with a tightly cinched belt. His hat was white with a tan strip at the base, casting a shadow over his face.

Small bags were underneath his eyes, but his gaze held a warmth as he interacted with the horse. Leon took in a deep breath. An odd feeling filled his stomach as he continued to stare. His stomach turned, his heart beating a little bit faster. A bit confused with the sudden new emotion, he decided he would ignore it. He shoved both of his hands back into his pockets, rolling one of his shoulders back before starting to approach the man. Each step he took made a crunching noise, but it didn't seem to catch his attention. Leon continued to approach until he was only a few feet away. He cleared his throat. "Hey," Leon started, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

Slightly startled, he flinched ever so slightly, his carrot slipping from his fingers for a brief moment before he caught it. He looked to his right, only to be met with a face he had never seen before. His gaze trailed over Leon, almost analytically, like he was studying his face to commit it to memory. He didn't say a word, waiting for Leon to continue or explain why he was here. "Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to scare you." apologized Leon with a half smile. "I was told you're supposed to... ah, show me the ropes. I'm new. I-- I'm Leon." he seemed to stumble over his words as he looked deeper into the mans eyes. He bit down on the inside of his lip, letting out a small exhale from his nose.

The man parted his lips a little before giving a small nod. He didn't offer a handshake like the other man, instead he kept to himself. "Y/N." he replied, lifting one of his arms and swiping it against his forehead, wiping off any remaining sweat he could've had. "I... didn't know they hired a rookie for the stables. Forgive me." he muttered to himself, his accent almost silent but still slightly audible in his inflections. Leon tensed a bit when he heard the word "rookie." He felt like he was never going to be able to shake that nickname.

Leon took his hands out from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. To most this would feel intimidating, as Leon was a well built man, but Y/N could only see the nervousness hidden behind his eyes. Y/N had yet to make an expression that indicated his opening opinion on Leon. He looked down at the hay underneath the two before looking back to the horse. Y/N scratched behind the horses ear. "You know how 'ta take care of horses?" he asked, not giving Leon another glance into his eyes.

Leon widened his mouth a little bit, tilting his head to the side. "Not at all." he replied, giving a small awkward chuckle.

Y/N perked up his brows in an unamused manner. "D'ya know how to ride one?" he asked again.

Leon shook his head again. "Always wanted to learn."

Y/N let out a soft sigh before looking back over to Leon. He rested one arm behind his head and scratched his neck, just where the base of his hair was. He didn't seem particularly happy that he would have to show this random man the absolute basics, but he could suck it up. He's done it before, he can do it again. Tilting himself onto his heels he gave a small nod, reaching out to the horse in front of him and giving it a small stroke against its nose.

"Guess now is best time as any." spoke Y/N, letting one arm rest by his side as the other went for the hinge to the stable door, unlocking it and bringing it open. The horse was hefty, large, and brown with white spots littering its body. It had a few feet over the two men. Y/N's hand brushed up against its mane, a silky black color giving a small shine from the leaking sunlight from the ceiling. "This is Spencer." spoke Y/N. "He's tame. Doesn't like to kick 'r nothin', but he runs pretty fast." he explained, clicking his tongue once before the horse obediently stepped out of the stable. It stood by Y/N's side. Y/N seemed to be fond of the animal.

Leon gave a small hum when he looked to the horse. It was the first time, at least that he could remember, that he had been this close to one. He could feel its breath lightly hit against his face. "Spencer." Leon repeated, just to get it committed to his memory.

"Thing about Spencer, he gets his hair tangled easily." Y/N spoke. He was inflecting his voice in a way that sounded like he wanted to seem more confident in talking than he was. "So you gotta get real good with brushing. Its real easy. Like brushin' a dog." he spoke, stepping past the horse and stepping into its stable, grabbing onto two brushes that were hooked against the wooden wall. "Ever had a dog before, Leon?" asked Y/N. His voice had a bit of a tremble to it. He seemed to be getting a little nervous the more he was around the blonde.

Leon raised a brow at the question, watching as Y/N handed him a brush. He took it while giving a small nod as thanks. "I think so. I was probably too young to remember." replied Leon with a small shrug, stepping a bit closer to the horse. He brought his brush up to the side of the horses coat, carefully brushing downwards. Y/N paused for a second, his lips parting as I stepped next to Leon.

He grabbed onto Leon's hand, his skin cool against Leon's rather hot body. Leon felt his jaw tense slightly, feeling his stomach turn again. He looked to the man with curious eyes. Y/N's lips had formed a slight pout as he gave a small shake of the head. "To the side, not down." he spoke, correcting Leon's movements. His voice wasn't commanding, but rather understanding. He could feel Y/N's fingers slightly twitch against his own as he guided the movement of the brush to the left on the horses body. It was a more clean pattern, making it more appealing to look at. "Sorry," Leon replied, giving a small chuckle.

Y/N continued to absentmindedly brush along with Leon before he realized that the two were still touching. His eyes widened a bit before he pulled his hand away. He felt his cheeks get a little hot as he cleared his throat. "Keep, uh, keep at it. I just gotta... feed the rest of 'em." spoke Y/N, taking in a small breath before backing away from Leon and the horse. Leon pursed his lips a little bit, giving a small head tilt of acknowledgement as he continued the motions. As Y/N walked away, Leon kept an eye on him.

Y/N walked to the side of the stable, picking up a white bag filled with grains and bran. It looked heavy, heavy enough to make Y/N have to lean on one foot more than the other. He lifted the bag with a soft grunt before throwing it over his shoulder, starting his rounds around each horses food tin. One by one he poured the food in, his face remaining expressionless as this task was pretty mundane to him.

Leon watched carefully from the corner of his eye. He started to drift around the horse, carefully brushing the coat. He felt kind of relaxed when he did this. He could still feel the horses breath on him. It's ear twitched.

About a half an hour had passed by when Y/N had finished refilling each food container. He made sure to clean the tins beforehand as well, wanting to make sure that there was no chance of the horses getting sick. He had broken into a light sweat as he walked back across the clumps of hay littered across the floor, setting the bag back down in its respective spot. Y/N looked back over his shoulder, seeing Leon still gently brushing the horses coat with his eye halfway following Y/N.

Y/N walked back over to Leon and the horse, wiping his forehead once again. "Looks pretty." he spoke, giving a small nod to Leon as his gaze focused on the horses hair. He reached his hand out to Leon, swallowing slightly as he gestured for the brush to be returned. Leon followed the order well and handed the brush back to him. "Thanks." he replied, giving a small smile from the corner of his mouth.

Y/N brought the brush back to where it was hooked in the horses quarters, making sure it was neatly lined up with the wall. He let out a soft breath as he glanced back to Leon. His blonde hair was halfway darker against the shadow in the stable. There was a slight shadow cast across his face. Y/N felt his stomach turn slightly. He didn't know what it was. He chose to ignore it. But he knew better than anyone that he couldn't ignore his emotions well.

Y/N rested his hands on his hips as he gave the horse a small pet. "Y'wanna learn how to ride 'em?" he asked, looking back at Leon with somewhat hopeful, yet tired eyes. Leon's eyes widened a little bit at the request, but he felt his smile grow bigger. One of his childhood dreams was finally coming to fruition. He gave an eager nod, his grin growing wider against his pink lips. "I'd love to, yeah." Leon agreed, watching as the other man’s lips formed their own smile. It was odd, the way Leon felt when he saw it. He felt his cheeks start to burn. He let out another soft breath. Leon's hands rested at his sides.

Y/N looked back to the horse, scratching the side of his face a little bit before he put his hand up against the horse's mane. He seemed to have a fascination with the horses hair. All of the horses in the stable were groomed well, Y/N made sure of it. He was basically the only person that was allowed in the stables, by his own request. But an exception would be made for Leon, since he would be taught by the only one that Y/N trusted. Himself. "You ready, big guy?" Y/N spoke to the horse, a relaxed expression spread across his face as he pulled his hand back away, starting to walk towards the exit of the stable. He clicked his tongue twice, and the horse started to follow behind him. Leon followed as well.

Outside was a large field. Some horses that were outside of their stable were grazing, some chewing on the grass and others trotting around the field. It was a pleasant sight. The sun was halfway covered by the clouds by now, but it's heat didn't die down much at all. It was still bright as ever and made anyone sweat easily.

Leon winced once again when he was met with the bright light of the sun. "Damn it," he muttered, squinting his eyes the best as he could as he looked back forward, following behind. Y/N heard the small hiss and looked back over his shoulder. "Too bright?" he asked, raising a brow. Leon scrunched his face up and gave a nod, his hand going over his eyes once again. Y/N stopped walking for a second, biting down on his lower lip. He grabbed the brim of his hat and pulled it off of his head, handing the piece to Leon.

Leon watched, his eyes opening back up again. He wasn't expecting that kind of gesture from someone who acted the way Y/N did, but he appreciated it nonetheless. "Thanks," he told him, his voice quieter than normal but still showing the warmth he felt. He put the hat on, covering some of the blonde strands and pushing them up against his forehead. Y/N continued walking, but he had his head tilted to the side, able to see Leon's face.

"I have a question." spoke Y/N, scratching the side of his face as he continued to lead Leon and the horse through the field, his focus set on heading to the track they had paved in the dirt father out so the horses could get some good exercise. "You're not from here, I take it." he started, giving Leon a quick once over. Leon gave a nod. "Can I take a guess where you're from? Somewhere in the Midwest, right?" he guessed, his brow raising.

Leon nodded. "Spot on."

Y/N gave a small celebratory cheer to himself, doing a small fist pump in the air. "Figured. You got the whole accent 'n stuff. And the politeness. That's a thing, right? Midwesterners are polite." Y/N was repeating the words to himself, a common habit he had when speaking to people that he often got teased about. He wasn't thinking about controlling the way he spoke right now though. It seemed like Leon didn't mind. Even if he did, at the very least he wasn't commenting on it.

Leon smiled softly as he started to catch up to Y/N's walking speed, the two approaching the track now side by side. "Most of them are, yeah." he spoke, looking to his right to get another glance at Y/N's face. Underneath the sun, his skin seemed to have a sort of shimmer to it that he wasn't able to see before. His eyes were halfway closed, like he had developed an immunity to the suns brightness but still couldn't stand to look at it fully.

"Can't help but be curious what made 'ya come all the way down here. Hell, if I had a dime for every time I wished I could go up north, I wouldn't be workin' at this damn ranch anymore." Y/N muttered to himself with a small laugh following after. Leon let out a small chuckle, his hands remaining in his pockets as they walked.

The two had finally found their way onto the path, the horse letting out a small huff against the back of Y/N's neck. It seemed happy. Settling itself on the dirt, it trotted in it's place, seeming to be excited that it could go for a run. Y/N gave it a small pat on its back before looking back over to Leon. "Saddle broke a few days ago, apologies if it's a bumpy ride." Y/N spoke, before setting both of his hands onto the horses back and jumping upwards, throwing his leg over the side, his hips resting on top of the steed. Leon watched with a careful eye, watching as the man leaped up onto the horse. He could do that no problem. He had done stupid exercises like those plenty of times when he was in the police academy.

He paused for a short second, seeing as Y/N was looking down at him expectantly. "Oh, are you -- you want-- uh," he stumbled over his words a bit before giving a simple shake of the head. "Alright," he muttered, pursing his lips a little. Y/N offered his hand out to Leon for him to grab, just to give a little extra support. Leon followed the movements that Y/N had made seconds before, jumping up with a small grunt before his own legs were on either side of the horse. He smiled at himself, happy that he could do it on the first time. He was finally doing it. He was living out one of his childhood fantasies.

The horse stayed still underneath them. Y/N looked back over his shoulder, locking eyes with Leon's baby blue. "Hey, nice job." he told him with a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Y/N was a bit worried that this would end up being more effort than it was worth, but it seemed like this would be a cakewalk. It gave him a bit of relief. The smile was back. Leon felt his cheeks heat a bit again, but it was hard to tell if it was from Y/N or the hot sun.

Y/N looked Leon up and down before rolling his hips to get into a more comfortable position. "You should, ah, probably grab on. " he spoke, giving a small nod to his torso. Leon's brows raised at the suggestion, his cheeks beginning to show the heat that was on his face, a light tint of pink starting to spread. His stomach turned again. Something was going on in his brain that he didn't quite understand. He let out a small hum before tentatively reaching his hands around Y/N's waist. The man's body was firm, but it was easy to grab onto. At least that's what it felt like to Leon.

The proximity made them both feel a bit warmer, as to what they were reacting to, they had no idea. But they both knew they felt it.

"Spencer, he uh, he's trained a little differently then most horses." started Y/N, looking ahead of him at the back of the horses head. The feeling of Leon's hands around his waist was lingering on his mind. He could feel the touch through the fabric of the shirt. Leon could feel Y/N's halfway-cold, halfway-warm skin through it. It made it hard for either of them to pay attention. "I don't like usin' bits on 'em. I uh, I just give them little cues." explained the man, his hand lifting from the horse and spinning in a small circle. "Give him a little squeeze, he starts running." he started, before tensing the muscles in his legs a bit, squeezing around the body of the horse.

It took the instruction well, and started a steady trot. Leon flinched slightly at the sudden movement, even if he knew it was coming, and tightened the grasp he had around Y/N's waist. "Stop squeezing, he stops movin'. See?" Y/N then stopped tensing his legs, letting them relax, and in turn the horse stopped in it's track. Leon raised his brows, a bit impressed by how well the horse knew the order. "Got it." Leon nodded, a smile spread across his face. "How fast can he go?" he questioned, his head leaning a bit closer to Y/N's ear, his chin almost resting against the mans shoulder. He just wanted a closer look at the horses mane, at least that's what he was telling himself.

Y/N could feel Leon's breath against the side of his neck. He let out a breathy chuckle at the challenge, his head tilting to the right ever so slightly, placing his cheek close to Leon's lips. "Enough to consider it a thrill ride." he replied with a slightly cocky tone. Leon let out another slight laugh at his words. "Wanna show me?"

Y/N perked a brow up at the proposal, looking ahead. The sun was less blaring now, as he could see the track in front of them. The horses feet clacked against the ground excitedly, it's tail swishing back and forth. "Hold on tight, then." he replied, in almost an instant feeling the grasp around his waist grow tighter, his back being pressed up against Leon's front. Leon's body was built, defined, and that translated to it feeling like a brick wall when pressed against it. Y/N's heart was starting to beat faster as he let out a breathy giggle, raising one hand up to wipe his forehead before letting both his arms have a firm hold on the horse.

He tensed his legs again. Much, much tighter this time.

The horse burst into a high speed jog, eliciting a small yelp from Leon. The sound of hooves hitting against the dirt floor and the light laughter from the man in front of him was all he could hear at the moment. The wind felt nice against his face. Y/N was right, it was feeling like a bumpy ride. But he didn't care. He was riding a horse. For the first time in his life he got to live out something that he had dreamed of for longer than he could remember. He had a wide grin spreading across his face.

Around and around the track, Leon was starting to feel less hot on the outside, and more hot on the inside. Not hot, but warm. He felt warm. His body pressed against the man in front of him, he felt good. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long while. The feeling lasted, it lingered. He didn't try to shake it.

It seemed that the two had rode on the horse together for a long while, before Y/N seemed to notice something on the horizon. His legs softened the grip that they had on the horse, slowly going lighter and lighter until the horse came to a full stop, right where the track had started. Y/N's eyes were trained on the sky, seeing a dark, heavy cloud begin to fall over the edge of the sun. "Ah, shit." hissed Y/N under his breath tilting himself back a little.

Leon paused for a moment as he felt himself slowly start to come down from the high. "What?" he asked softly. "Did something happen?" he asked. He still kept his grip around Y/N's waist fairly tight. He didn't want to let go. It felt comfortable.

Y/N let out a soft exhale from his nose before lifting one of his hands, pointing a finger to the sky. "Bad cloud. Big storm's comin' tonight." he spoke with a small sigh. He looked back down at the horse before turning back to Leon. "I'd say you should head home. Doubt you'd wanna get stuck in the mud with all those other cars." he advised. Leon could feel his heart sink at the mention of a storm.

Ever since that day in Raccoon City, Leon hadn't been able to handle storms, especially not driving in them. He tensed up a little bit before letting his grip fall from the other mans waist, clearing his throat nervously. "Damn it." he huffed under his breath. Y/N looked back at him with a sympathetic but analytical gaze. He parted his lips, about to say something, but remained quiet. He could tell by the look in Leon's eyes and his body language that it was a sore subject. He pursed his lips before giving the horse a small pat, throwing his legs over the side and slipping himself back down to the ground.

His boots hit against the dirt like a cat jumping from the counter. He looked back to Leon. Y/N held his hand out for Leon to take once more, just giving him a little help getting down. Leon took it with gratitude and tossed his own legs over the side, jumping down from the horses back. Y/N gave the horse a small pet on the nose before clicking his tongue. The horse began to follow behind the two men as they started walking back to the stables.

It was silent for a short minute, Y/N wiping some dirt away from his pants before looking back to Leon. "Take it you don't like storms?" started Y/N, tilting his head so he could get a glimpse at the reaction that Leon would have. Leon took the hat that Y/N had loaned to him off of his head, handing it back to the man. "It's a long story." he muttered, brushing a hand through his hair. It had gotten a little tangled under the hat, and he spent a few seconds fixing it to get each strand back into place.

"I get it." replied Y/N, in his best attempt to hold a compassionate voice. "I'm not the fondest of storms myself. Neither are the horses." he spoke, his eyes going to the ground as he shoved both of his hands into his pockets, letting his thumbs hang out. They brushed up against his belt buckle, sending a shiver down his spine. The soft clunking of hooves remained audible as they walked.

Leon was glad that Y/N wasn't pushing him to elaborate. Instead, he just listened. He liked that in people. He liked that in Y/N. He hadn't even known the guy for that long, but he was starting to grow quite fond of the kid. Little did he know that Y/N felt the same way about him. "You know, I live here on the ranch." spoke Y/N, taking in a small breath. He seemed a bit anxious to say what he had planned. "You could crash with me if you wanted. Not to be too forward, I just... y'know, wanted to show a bit of hospitality." he added, looking back to Leon with more of a nervous gaze this time.

Leon paused for a moment, his brows furrowing, his eyes narrowing in tandem as he processed the offer. After that, he could feel that same heat spread across his cheeks. He hadn't been in Texas for more than three weeks and he was already spending the night with someone. "You'd be okay with that?" questioned Leon, a bit of his dirty blonde hair falling over the right side of his face, covering a portion of his eye. The two had arrived at the stables, and they opened the entrance door again. The horse followed behind Y/N closely.

The smell of manure hit Leon again, but it didn't seem to phase Y/N. Leon's nose scrunched again. "Of course I am. Wouldn't be offering if I wasn't." replied the man, giving him a small smile before making a left turn to the horses stable, the door being left open. He clicked his tongue twice, the horse following the command and walking into its stable with a happy trot. It seemed to really like Y/N. He closed the stable door before reaching into one of the bags he had attached to his belt, handing him another carrot as a treat. Leon stared at Y/N with a somewhat stunned expression before giving an eager nod.

"Oh, then, yeah. That would be... really appreciated, actually." Leon told him, his smile returning on his face along with the slightest shade of pink he held earlier. Y/N gave the horse one final pat on the head before turning back over to Leon. "Sounds good." he spoke, giving a small nod before locking up the stable door. He then started to walk again, gesturing to Leon with his hand to have him follow.

Leon followed close after, soon enough walking side by side with the man he had met only a few hours prior. He could see the darkness start to seep into the stables as they exited it, the dark clouds covering the sun. When the two got back out, Y/N led them the opposite way of the shack that Leon had first entered, instead they were heading towards another small wooden building, about half a mile away. There wasn't as much of a path paved leading to this building, only small footprints.

It was a small silence, but it spoke volumes for the amount of time the two weren't talking. Leon couldn't stand it for that long. "How'd you end up getting a place here?" he asked, a bit curious on how this all came together. Y/N gave him a quick glance before looking back down to his feet to watch where they were going. "Dad's friends with the owner. Used to work on my daddy's farm before he decided to hand over all the work to some other hotshot." he muttered, swiping his hand underneath his nose. "So it's not technically nepotism. Just prior knowledge." he let out a small joke at the end of it, trying to get another smile, a huff, or just another laugh from Leon. He liked Leon a lot. Leon was the first guy on the ranch he talked to that didn't treat him like dirt.

And laugh Leon did. He had a smile spread across his face as he let out a soft chuckle, before folding both his arms over his chest. His boots crunched against the dead grass below them. He liked the sound. "Ah, nice." Leon replied with a small nod. Y/N felt his face heat ever so slightly when he heard the warmth in Leon's tone.

The two continued to walking after the light conversation, and Leon watched as the clouds seemed to darken the sky minute by minute. He could feel his mouth dry up slightly at the sight of it, but he would ignore it. He had a place to stay with this guy who had shown him nothing but kindness and a good time. He would be fine.

Soon enough, the duo had arrived at the cabin. It was made of wood, much like all the other structures on this ranch, but it seemed decently decorated. Y/N opened the door for the both of them as they stepped into the home. Leon looked around, seeing a few posters and various kitchen supplies. It was small, but it was comfortable. There was a black and white couch perched in the middle of the main room, facing a blocky TV with a cassette player and a DVD player right underneath it. On a shelf beside the TV was rows and rows of various movies, seasons of shows, anything you could imagine. It was how Y/N liked to spend a lot of his free time, either reading or watching TV. He liked his media, and he liked to be entertained. "Pretty cozy in here," Leon spoke, his head tilting a bit as he examined the small details.

Y/N gave a small nod at his words. "Thanks." he replied, cracking both of his knuckles as he started to wander through the space. "You uh, sorry, I'm not used to having anyone here. You want anything to drink or something?" he asked, stumbling over his words a bit. He felt a bit in over his head, but it would be okay. He just had to go with the flow. Leon looked back over his shoulder. "A water would be good. Thank you." he replied, giving a small smile to Y/N. Y/N gave the same smile back.

"Couch is all yours if you want it. Doubt you wanna sleep in the same bed as me." he laughed softly, walking over to the kitchen area with a bit of a bounce in his step. He grabbed onto a glass of water and put it under the faucet, filling it up with tap water. Leon let out a small chuckle at the mans words before he sat himself down on the couch. It was nice, comfortable against his back and had a bit of fluff to the cushions. He could fall asleep on it easily.

Y/N walked back over to the center of the room and handed him the glass of water. Leon looked back over to the shelf with all of the DVD's on them, a slightly curious expression on his face as he took the water. "What kind of movies do you watch?" he asked, taking a light sip of the tap water. Y/N followed his gaze, scratching the back of his neck before clearing his throat a little. "Mainly horror. Got some action movies though, too." he replied, looking back to Leon. Leon's brow raised a bit at the mention of horror. "I didn't peg you for a horror guy," he spoke, running a hand through his hair in any attempt to get it to stay out of his face.

Y/N let out a small exhale from his nose, his smile perked on the left side of his mouth. "That's what banning your son from watchin' 'devil worship' does. Gives 'em morbid curiosity." he spoke, walking over to the shelf as he trailed his fingers along the lines of cases. He had them all categorized by genre, then in alphabetical order. Gave him less trouble when looking for something to watch.

"I get that. I never got to watch horror either." Leon replied, wearing the same half smile that the other man did. He watched Y/N's back carefully, watching it shift under the white tank top he was wearing, along with his arms ever so slightly lifting it up, showing the smallest sliver of skin. Y/N looked back over his shoulder. "Y'got strict parents too?" he asked, picking out a movie from the shelf and holding it in his right hand. Leon let out a small sigh at the words, taking another sip of his drink.

"I lived in an orphanage. They had uh, pretty strict regulations." Leon told Y/N, shifting his weight on his hips slightly as he folded one leg over the other. The smile on Y/N's lips dropped, his eyes widening a bit. He felt sorry for bringing it up. "Sorry to hear that," he replied, pursing his lips a little bit before stepping back to the couch, sitting himself down next to Leon. Leon gave a small shrug, not seeming to mind it all that much anymore. He's gotten that plenty. Their arms were only a few inches apart, Y/N's knee barely grazing against Leon's. The clouds outside had grown darker and darker. The rain had started. Leon shuddered.

Y/N cleared his throat again, holding out the DVD casing in front of the two of them. "Ever seen this one?" he asked. On the front of the case was in bold letters, "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre". Leon's eyes studied the case for a short second. "I've seen posters of it, never watched it though." he answered, looking back over to Y/N with a curious gaze. Y/N parted his lips slightly, giving a small glance to the window that was starting to be pelted by the rain.

"It's a great movie, I'm tellin' ya." Y/N smiled back at Leon. "For a movie that came out in '74, it's a lot better than you'd think." he spoke, continuing to hold the case out in front of the two. Leon's eyes widened a little bit. "Shit, that's older than me." replied Leon, his brows lifted as he continued to look at the cover. Y/N gave a nod. "Me too."

"If you wanna, we could watch it. Sure it would take your mind off the... y'know." he spoke, giving a nod to the growing intensity of the rain. The wind outside seemed to be tossing the leaves of trees around, bending them at the roots. Leon took a glance outside but quickly diverted his gaze, returning back to Y/N's face. His eyes were kind, almost gentle. It seemed like he just wanted Leon to feel comfortable. It was sweet. He looked back down at the casing. He didn't know how he would react when he was watching this, but as long as it didn't have anything to do with zombies, he would be fine. "Sure." Leon replied.

The thunder then started. Leon flinched at the sound, his jaw tensing a little bit when he looked out the window. His hands had a bit of tremble to them. Y/N could see it, but he didn't know what to say about it. He didn't say anything about it. He didn't want to show pity, he wanted to show care. This charming man didn't deserve pity. Y/N could see his nerves start to flare. "I'll, uh, I'll get you a blanket." Y/N spoke, scratching the side of his face before he stood back up. He set the DVD onto the table before walking off to the room adjacent, his own room. Leon's eyes followed him as he walked off.

When he came back from the room, he held a white and red blanket with fringes on the end over his arm, like a waiter would hold a towel. Y/N handed the blanket to the blonde with a small nod, before grabbing onto the casing for the DVD again. He walked up over to his TV, pressing the power button. When it turned on, the familiar sound of static filled the room. He hit his hand up against the side of it twice before the screen switched to a menu. Y/N let out a small sigh before he couched down in front of the DVD player, opening the case and inserting the disc into the player. It skipped past the menu screen and just started to play the movie. Y/N stepped out of the way of the TV and looked back to Leon.

The two didn't say much else as the movie started. Leon sat with a blanket draped over his lap, and Y/N placed himself next to him. Leon's eyes focused on the TV, but he could feel the man next to him, the air coming off of him. Y/N folded one leg over the other. His body was starting to get cold.

When it came to storms in this sector of Texas, it seemed like the hot and sweaty weather flipped on it's back the second rain comes around. It got cold, the worst kind of cold. It was something that Y/N had always hated, since he always wore light clothing. Tonight was no different.

Minutes started to pass, adding and adding until they were about halfway through the movie. Leon was enjoying the movie more than he thought. He expected most horror things to be cheesy, or at least that's what he heard about them. But he ended up pretty invested in the story. But he could see from the corner of his eye he could see the man beside him rubbing his hands against his arms. The hair on his arms was slightly raised, his jaw tensed a little. "Hey, uh, you cold?" asked Leon, a strand of his blonde hair falling over one of his eyes.

Y/N's eyes flickered from the TV back to Leon, his lips parting ever so slightly. He let out a soft chuckle, trailing his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah, a little." he replied, giving a small half smile before looking back down into his lap. Leon trailed his eyes over the man, picking up the blanket from his legs. "You can have the blanket if you want," he offered, holding a kind tone in his voice.

Y/N looked back at him, giving a small shake of his head. "Oh, no, it's alright." he replied, his hand lifting from his arm and gave Leon a small wave. Leon narrowed his eyes, looking back down to the blanket he held. "Seriously, I doubt I need it as much as you." he replied, a halfway amused smile spread across his face as he held out the blanket. "Or we could share. I'm sure we could both fit." he offered, one brow raising. Y/N felt his cheeks warm at the offer.

"Oh, ah," Y/N swiped his finger underneath his nose before letting out a soft breath. "Alright."

Leon watched as Y/N grabbed the blanket from his lap, before scooting closer. They were arm to arm now, just close enough but not too close. Y/N lifted the blanket up around, wrapping the fabric around the both of their bodies. Y/N's arms were cool against Leon's. They could both feel the turn in their stomach. Leon's cheeks felt that same warmth. He swallowed a bit, deciding to not speak about it and just looking back to the movie.

The close proximity was filling the both of their minds. Y/N had bit down on the inside of his cheek to mask any show of his breath being unsteady, and Leon was making it known that he wasn't going to move. He couldn't help but to continue to sneak glances back at Y/N. He didn't know what he was feeling, he definitely wasn't used to it. It made him a little nervous knowing that he didn't understand what was going on with him, but he couldn't lie. He didn't entirely hate how he felt. It was almost comforting. These nerves took his mind off the storm at least.

Y/N's body was starting to get warmer underneath the blanket, along with the close proximity of the man beside him. His face felt like it was on fire. He recognized the feeling though. He had felt it plenty of times when he saw the assistants around the farm he used to work at. They were only ever men. He knew that it wasn't normal.

The movie was faint, but it covered up the sound of the rain. The two weren't talking, but it seemed there was an unspoken understanding between the two. They could tell.

The time was passing faster than they expected. The moon was out now, and the thunder had died down and the rain was softer. But telling by the clouds, it would pick up later in the night. But Leon, after a long day of driving and working out every muscle in his arm, holding on for dear life, was pretty tired. He had started to get tired more often.

Y/N could feel something against his shoulder. He didn't think anything of it at first, but a few seconds later he started to feel warm breath against his neck, along with the faint feeling of hair touching his skin. He tilted his head to the side, looking over to Leon. He had dozed off. Y/N let out a small breath biting down on his lower lip as he felt his face glow with heat. He didn't want to wake him up. He was nervous to move. Leon's lips were slightly parted, his eyes resting closed with his cheek against Y/N's shoulder.

It was surprisingly comfortable. He and Leon were alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody to judge. Y/N flickered his eyes to the side of the couch, before looking back to Leon. He gave Leon the smallest nudge to his body, but Leon didn't stir. He was definitely asleep. Y/N trailed his tongue over his teeth before he slowly and carefully readjusted his position on the couch, turning on his back and laying himself down, Leon shifting along with him. Y/N rested his head on the armrest of the couch, his eyes carefully trained on Leon's face to see any shift in expression. He didn't stir.

Leon's head slipped from Y/N's shoulder, now resting against his chest, his breath against the mans collarbone. Y/N's body felt really warm. Leon's body was warming him. Leon's blonde hair fell against his eyes, covering a portion of his face. He let out a small mumble against Y/N's shirt, but he didn't wake. Instead, he shifted one of his arms and wrapped it around Y/N's waist. Y/N could feel his heart start to race. They were so close. But it felt like it should be like this -- it didn't feel wrong, like it did when he was close to other people. This was comfortable. This was nice.

The warmth in his body was almost comforting to Y/N. It gave him this sort of peace. Hesitantly, he decided to rest an arm around Leon. It was nothing big, if anything he could just say it was an adjustment. His hand rested on Leon's back, feeling up against the fabric of his button up. He felt nervous, but giddy. But the feeling was starting to fade away once it had been a few minutes when he himself started to feel more tired. He had been working since 7 A.M. And besides, what else could he do in this situation instead of go to bed?

He let his eyes close, his head tilted back against the armchair of the couch and relaxing with the feeling of another man against him, and the feeling of the warm blanket around him. It wasn't even 2 minutes before Y/N was clocked out. But Leon wasn't asleep. He was tired, sure, but he was conscious. He was good at faking sleep -- he did it plenty when he was a kid.

The only reason he did it tonight was out of pure, unadulterated curiosity. And it turned out better than he thought it would.

cowboy art — @barfeverywhere (blame him for this stupid idea)

he’s sunburnt as a treat

#fanfic #asks #fanfiction #leon kennedy #male reader #resident evil #x male reader #leon s kennedy #leon ass kennedy #brokeback mountain #cowboy #yeehaw #yeehaw au #cowboy au #september 30th…. 1998 #DONT FLINCH DONT FLINCH #friend made a joke about rubbing aloe on his sunburnt back and then they bang

[greenhorn-art]

Kindling by @syncogon

He is, after all, a Pokemon Trainer. What do you think?

Fandom: 全职高手 (Quánzhí Gāoshǒu) | The King's Avatar

Alternate Universe - Pokémon Fusion

So this took a lot longer than expected, but it's finally done! 🎉 (Oh to have the energy to Make a Thing!)

August 2022: Typeset the fic.

September 2022: Sewed textblock, endbands, and cut boards for the cover.

July 2023: Made cover, cased in textblock, and added the title -- first time using the hot foil pen I got for my birthday!

Another first: this book was made quarto-style. I used regular copy paper so that it would be short-grained. Trimming was a exercise of patience: 'hmm maybe juuust a little bit more, oh shoot that looked rough maybe a bit more will fix it...' ad infinitum. (My printer has margins, and I wanted the images to go right to the edge.)

Fonts: primarily set in Alegreya, title in Catchy Mager. (Thought I'd changed all instances of Cinzel to Alegreya and updated my Print Details page to reflect that, but alas. Missed the Archive Info and Contents headings. Ah, the things you notice once a piece is done :/ )

For the cover and title page I leaned into the ideas of 'kindling'/fire and 'Tiny Herb'/grass. I chose green bookcloth and green floral endpapers because the story takes place at Tiny Herb Gym and in a forest. I chose flame coloured paper for the covers because of both Jun's quirk, and also the 'kindling' of QYF, TR, YX & Jun's Pokémon journeys. The smoke/flame and grass pics used in the title page are free images from Rawpixel.

The endbands' colours were chosen to match the green endpapers and the yellow of the mimikyu Acinonyx6 drew for the fic.

Since "Kindling" was part of QZGS Bang Bang 2022 I also included Acinonyx6's artwork. (My printer really can't do the art justice!)

[a.cinonyx's Instagram]

For the scene breaks I made a pokéball out of shapes, then pasted it in and anchored it as a character.

#bookbinding #syncogon #kindling #the king's avatar #qzgs #tka #fanbinding #fanfiction

[hirokari]

i saw a

"why didn't you respond to my letters?"

"what letters?"

tiktok and was inspired and now its midnight and i refuse to publish the context or anything else.

“My letters.”

He cuts you off, seemingly with no remorse. You pause at the sudden harshness, “W-What?” He heaves a heavy sigh, having been pent up on this question for so long. Jaemin takes a bold step forward, the floor of your entrance being dripped on by the water of Jaemin’s body. “My letters.” He repeats sharply. “The ones I sent in the summer after we graduated. You told- you told me I could reach out to you– no matter the circumstance. No matter if you hated me, or if I hated you, or if I was on a whole different continent.”

Chills run down your spine at the exact recitation.

“My letters.”

“What letters?”

Both your voices break, and you bring a hand up to clutch Jaemin’s shoulder, startled by the broken looks he wears. He’s devastated.

“I-I sent you letters,” He says shakily. “Multiple. I told you how I felt the first time. I was in love with you.” Gulps Jaemin. “And-and when you didn’t answer, I wrote another letter apologizing for sending the first letter– and for everything else. For bothering you, for talking down on you just to make myself feel better, for that stupid thesis incident.”

“Jaem…”

“And by the third letter I assumed you were ignoring me– but I sent more. I sent ten.” Finally looking up to your eyes, Jaemin remains half-lidded– sort of in a trance at the sudden topic of his feelings and whatever he’d poured into a piece of paper with a gel pen you’d given him in senior year. 

“On the fourth I wrote in July, a month after graduation. I wrote that I missed you and thought of you everyday. On the fifth, I was angry at you. I asked why you wouldn’t respond to me and called you petty– and so many more other things. A liar, a thief, a first-kiss-stealing backstabber. On the sixth I’d begged for you to answer. It was October. On the seventh I gave you my new number– the one you texted two days ago. On the eighth I was practically talking to myself, begging for a sign that you’d moved on from what we did in graduation so I could. 

On the ninth I described your lips. I wrote this with an itching nose from the cold of the winter. I described how they tasted like peach peonies– maybe that’s why they were always your favorite flower. I recited how kindly and gently you’d kissed me, how you held my face with cradling, careful fingers and how you had to stand on the tips of your toes just to taste me. How the talon on your graduation cap had tickled my face but it was no match to the storm you’d brewed in my stomach. On the tenth I greeted you goodbye. Mentioned how the next time you’d see me– I’d be with peach peonies.”

By now, Jaemin has you pressed against the wall, pressing his forehead against yours. It’s not threatening or forceful– he’s inviting you. An invitation involving dancing lips and fleeting touches– an invitation for you to run your fingers wild though his hair as his tugs on the skin of your waist. His eyes bore into yours, yet pleaded for the response he’d been waiting 3 years for.

hahaa enemies to strangers to lovers wip that will forever remain in my drafts. im so sorry, peach peonies, you'll never see the real world. it's my first time writing in like months so this is reaaaal rusty and not my best work tbh.

#♪ mari writes! #nct dream #nct #na jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin scenarios #jaemin drabbles #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin imagines

[strawberyblogs]

Genshin Impact Alhaitham x GN! Reader - Love Letters 🍉

Background: Y/N currently resides in the boundaries of Mondstadt. Alhaitham (frequently referred to as Al) is on a lengthy obligation in Sumeru. Although separated by distance, the two lovers communicate through letter.

July 3rd

To my beloved Al,

In these past evenings, I've found myself wandering without your presence; therefore, I decided to write you this epistle. Although I gave you my word that I would obtain ways to keep myself company, these sweltering days make it taxing. A typical day for me doesn't begin till almost an hour before noon. Of course, I awake much before that; however, I am simply enamored with The Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies and spend at least a few hours each day reading and rereading the novel. Do you recall when you first retrieved such a gift for me? Oh, of course not! Do not believe that I doubt your intelligence; it's simply the fact that you gather so many artifacts for me on your various journeys. You must think that these gifts are just silly toys for me; however, each one has its own place on my mantlepiece. Oh dear, I feel that I have gone on and on about only myself. Please realize that it seems as if there's not a molecule in my body not possessed by my longing for you. In my evenings without you, I find my way to Stormbearer Point in remembrance of the times we'd spent there together. But I do admit that during my moments atop that hill, the small of my waist feel rather empty, and my fingers now only may interlock with loneliness. These tepid summer nights feel quite comforting, but they do not replace the warmth your body once exerted against mine. Despite my deep longing for your touch, I must acknowledge that I have been sleeping quite well. I'm quite impressed by my ability to finally put pen to paper; however, this shall conclude my exchange. I feel lethargic and wouldn't want that to diminish the quality of my penmanship. This night shall have the sensation of a thousand without you. It's my greatest wish that you will receive this letter with its dignity preserved and may even find the time to return one to me. 

Goodnight to me, good day to you, maybe.

With deepest love and admiration,

~ Y/N

July 14

Y/N, 

Please pardon my timely response. I was simply trying to find the time to correctly express my yearning for you. That, combined with the current undertakings I am consumed with, has resulted in this delayed message. Contrary to your concerns, my time has been filled with plenty of proceedings to busy me. As of now, I reside in Sumeru City. Not to boast, but my room is quite spacious. Unfortunately, I'm not able to communicate all the details with you, as confidentiality rules typically go. My location does frequent between Sumeru City and Vanarana. The glowing aura of the Tree of Dreams makes my heart ache for you. I bet your laughter has graced the air as you read about me comparing you to a tree; however, I wish you could see it yourself. It's a bewitching violet and azure tone with dainty leaves emerging from the top. Although it is quite a landmark, its appeal is laughable compared to your glamour. I would give my own soul just to lay my eyes on you for just another moment, if such an exchange could be made. Excuse my dramatics; however, it does feel like my heart is but a thousand tons without your presence. My lips so strongly ache for your gentle kiss that I can't even utter a word. Thankfully, my silence is quite useful for a moment such as now. Even with such a bustling scene in Sumeru City, I still do feel as lonesome as you. It's quiet moments like these where I truly realize how much of my body you fill with your light. It feels like such an injustice that I have been savagely torn away from you due to my work. Why I have half a mind to run away to somewhere far away with your fingers intertwined in mine. Liyue maybe? Ah, but with the reputation my name and face carry, such fantasies would be impossible. My dear, please know that before the leaves fall, your touch will again meet mine. Love is not a worthy word to describe my feelings for you. The sensation in my breast when I think of you is simply indescribable. Continue to share your days with me through letter. We must remember that distance is but a miniature obstacle.

Goodbye,

~ Alhaitham

--

If it's unclear, these are just short exchanges between Y/N and Alhaitham through letter.

If you made it to the end, I thank you immensely! I hope this all made some sense and anything you have questions about, leave a comment or inbox me! If you enjoyed this writing, please like and/or reblog! And as always, PLEASE send in requests! Thanks again for reading!!

-🍓

#fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #writing #ao3 #anime #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham #al haitham #al haitam x reader