Dance With Me

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

Medicine

A Study In Physical Injury

Comas

Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs

Broken Bones

Burns

Unconsciousness & Head Trauma

Blood Loss

Stab Wounds

Pain & Shock

All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)

Writing Specific Characters

Portraying a kleptomaniac.

Playing a character with cancer.

How to portray a power driven character.

Playing the manipulative character.

Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.

Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.

Writing a character who lost someone important.

Playing the bullies.

Portraying the drug dealer.

Playing a rebellious character.

How to portray a sociopath.

How to write characters with PTSD.

Playing characters with memory loss.

Playing a pyromaniac.

How to write a mute character.

How to write a character with an OCD.

How to play a stoner.

Playing a character with an eating disorder.

Portraying a character who is anti-social.

Portraying a character who is depressed.

How to portray someone with dyslexia.

How to portray a character with bipolar disorder.

Portraying a character with severe depression.

How to play a serial killer.

Writing insane characters.

Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.

Tips on writing a drug addict.

How to write a character with HPD.

Writing a character with Nymphomania.

Writing a character with schizophrenia.

Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Writing a character with depression.

Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.

Writing a character with paranoid personality disorder.

How to play a victim of rape.

How to play a mentally ill/insane character.

Writing a character who self-harms.

Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.

How to play the stalker.

How to portray a character high on cocaine.

Playing a character with ADHD.

How to play a sexual assault victim.

Writing a compulsive gambler.

Playing a character who is faking a disorder.

Playing a prisoner.

Portraying an emotionally detached character.

How to play a character with social anxiety.

Portraying a character who is high.

Portraying characters who have secrets.

Portraying a recovering alcoholic.

Portraying a sex addict.

How to play someone creepy.

Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.

Playing a character under the influence of drugs.

Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.

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Heads up

tomorrow, 2nd November, I'll ditch tech for the whole day. That means no post for tomorrow... sorry :(

anywho I will pick up again afterwards (hopefully) because I'm still in the midst of my exams and while I'm coming close to the end, I can't just stop the grind after my last paper. Learning is a long-term thing you get me? So if, by any chance you happen to look at my blog and I happen to be... active... *gasp, shocker* pls pls, tell me to get off my ass and get off of Tumblr. This is basically just a challenge I've put myself up to so... yes. Also, comfort fic recs are highly appreciated. Thank you for the notes, hearts, boops and messages.

love yall and have a great day!

Tides of Change

Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga x Reader

fluff, betrayal

Request by @whiteeaglestudent : do you think you could write a Moana 2 oneshot with a Maui x Female Nalo's Eel Minion Reader, where Y/n is one of Nalo's eel minions that guards the island of Motufetu, but she isn't evil like the other eels and can change into a human form but others are still slightly afraid of her, and when she meets Maui during his and Moana's journey, she decides to change her ways and turn good just to love Maui?

Summary: A reluctant guardian of Motufetu betrays her kin to save Maui and Moana, discovering courage and unexpected warmth in the process.

Story under the cut

I watched them from the depths, my sleek form slipping between jagged rocks as their canoe cut through the mist. They were too loud—laughing, bantering, utterly unaware of what they were sailing into. Mortals were always so cocky, so stupid. But the figure at the helm… something about him made me pause.

“Who does this guy think he is?” I muttered to myself, my voice rippling through the water like a growl. His stupid, smug grin and the way he flexed his muscles as if he were some kind of hero.

Wait.

I blinked, swimming closer for a better look. The light on the canoe shifted, and my stomach flipped. Oh no.

“Maui,” I hissed. The demigod of the wind and sea. Nalo had warned us about him.

Panic surged through me. If I didn’t act now, they’d reach Motufetu, and Nalo wouldn’t care that I’d been watching instead of attacking.

I surged upward, transforming mid-leap. My tail became legs, my scales shifted to skin, and I landed on the edge of their canoe with a splash.

“Turn back,” I growled, water dripping from my hair as I crouched like a predator. “Now.”

The girl—Moana—yelled and scrambled for an oar. But Maui? He just blinked at me, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Well, hello there,” he said, leaning on his hook like he wasn’t facing an ocean’s worth of trouble. “Didn’t realize we’d be picking up passengers.”

“I’m not your passenger,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes. “You’re trespassing.”

“Technically,” Maui said, scratching his chin, “we’re sailing. Different thing.”

“I could drag you both to the depths right now,” I threatened, baring my teeth.

Moana jabbed her oar in my direction. “I’d like to see you try!”

Maui waved her off, still grinning at me like I was some kind of joke. “Relax, Curly. She’s just doing her job, right?” He winked at me. “Big, scary eel thing. Super intimidating.”

My face burned. Intimidating?! He was mocking me! “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” I snapped.

“Oh, I think I do,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re one of Nalo’s little minions, aren’t you?”

“I’m not little,” I shot back before I could stop myself.

Maui raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I should’ve shoved him into the water right then and there. But something about the way he looked at me—like I wasn’t a threat, like he saw right through me—made my resolve falter.

“Look,” I said, straightening up. “You need to leave. Motufetu isn’t safe for you.”

“Gee, thanks for the warning,” Maui said, smirking. “But we’re good. Demigod here, remember?” He flexed an arm unnecessarily, and I had to bite back a scoff.

“You’re an idiot,” I muttered.

“Yeah, but you’re still talking to me,” he shot back, his grin widening.

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat. I didn’t understand it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to scare them off, drag them under if I had to, but instead…

“Wait,” Moana said suddenly, frowning at me. “If you’re one of Nalo’s minions, why haven’t you attacked us yet?”

I stiffened. “I—”

“Good question,” Maui said, stepping closer. “What’s the holdup? Not feeling it today?”

“I’m giving you a chance to leave,” I snapped, turning my glare on him. “Take it before I change my mind.”

But he just kept smiling. “Sure. You’re totally terrifying me right now.”

I clenched my fists, my mind spinning. I should’ve just thrown him overboard. Instead, I found myself hesitating, my gaze lingering on the way his stupid hair caught the moonlight.

“Listen,” Maui said, his tone softening. “Whatever Nalo’s got on you? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

I laughed, but it came out bitter. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not,” he said, shrugging. “But I know you’re stalling.”

The words hit harder than I expected. He wasn’t wrong.

I looked away, my resolve crumbling. If I let them go, Nalo would know. The others would come for me. But when Maui’s hand brushed against mine, warm and steady, something shifted.

“You don’t owe him anything,” he said quietly.

For a moment, the world was still. His touch sent a strange warmth through me, cutting through the cold I’d carried for so long.

“I—” I began, but a distant rumble cut me off.

The waters churned, and I knew the others were coming.

“Go,” I said, stepping back. “Now.”

“What about you?” Maui asked, his brow furrowing.

“I’ll handle it,” I said firmly. “Just… don’t stop rowing.”

He hesitated, but Moana grabbed the oar. “Come on, Maui!”

I stalled them as long as I could. The other eels—my kin, my tormentors—swirled around me in the dark waters, their hissing voices filled with betrayal.

“Traitor,” one spat, circling closer.

“You dare betray Nalo?” snarled another.

I kept my movements quick and deliberate, dodging their lunges and leading them in chaotic loops away from the canoe. Every second I bought was a second they needed to escape.

The fog thickened, the dark sea churning around us, and finally, I saw my moment. With a sharp kick of my legs, I shot upward and broke through the surface, gasping for air as I clambered onto the canoe.

Maui and Moana whipped around, both startled by the sudden splash.

“What the—!” Moana exclaimed, reaching for the oar like it was a weapon.

I collapsed against the side of the boat, panting, water streaming off my trembling form. “They’re… they’re distracted,” I managed, barely able to speak. “But you need to move. Now.”

Maui crouched beside me, his face uncharacteristically serious. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than I expected.

“I’m fine,” I lied, pushing myself upright. My legs burned, and my lungs ached from the effort, but I wasn’t about to admit it. “Just focus on the sea ahead. There are currents here that will tear this boat apart if you don’t steer properly.”

Moana frowned, still gripping the oar. “What currents?”

“The kind that’ll drag you down faster than you can scream,” I said bluntly, pointing toward a jagged rock formation barely visible through the mist. “You need to steer between those rocks and the smaller ones behind them. Trust me.”

Maui stood, his gaze flicking between me and the treacherous waters. “You seem to know a lot about these currents, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s almost like I’ve lived here my entire life,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

He grinned at that, his usual cocky demeanor slipping back into place. “Fair enough, Legs.”

I sighed, sitting back as they worked to navigate the canoe. Moana steered with precision, her movements quick and focused. Maui, for once, didn’t crack a single joke, his eyes scanning the water like a hawk.

As the boat slipped through the final set of rocks, the mist began to clear. The sea ahead stretched out, calm and endless, the danger of Motufetu fading behind us.

Only then did I allow myself to relax, leaning against the edge of the boat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Moana said, glancing at me.

I shrugged. “Guess I’m just full of bad decisions today.”

“Bad decisions, huh?” Maui’s voice was playful, but when I looked up, his expression wasn’t. His gaze held something else—something softer, more appreciative. “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

My breath caught, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. “Don’t get used to it,” I muttered, looking away too quickly.

“Too late,” he teased, but there was warmth in his voice.

The air between us felt heavier, charged with something unspoken, until Moana cleared her throat loudly.

“So,” she said, glancing between us, “are we just gonna ignore the whole ‘betraying Nalo and almost dying’ thing, or…?”

I laughed, though it came out a bit shakier than I intended. “Yeah, let’s just focus on not dying for now.”

Maui’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and I could feel it even without looking. When I finally dared to glance at him, his smirk was back, but his eyes still held that softness.

I quickly turned my attention to the sea, trying to calm the warmth spreading through me. Stupid demigod.

But as the canoe drifted further from the island, I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe, just maybe, I’d made the right choice after all.

---

Always

Newt (Maze Runner) x Reader

Fluff

Summary: Newt and reader having a moment to themselves where they feel safe together

The sun had started to sink beyond the maze walls, casting the Glade in a warm, golden glow. Shadows stretched long across the ground, softening the harsh edges of their surroundings and bathing everything in a warm light. You and Newt had found a quiet moment, away from the chaos and the routine of the Glade, to just be.

He had his arm around you as you both sat in the soft grass, leaning against the sturdy trunk of a tree near the edge of the forest. A gentle breeze tugged at the wild curls of his hair, and he absentmindedly ran a hand through it, his eyes drifting dreamily along the distant horizon.

“Feels like we’re on top of the world, doesn’t it?” you murmured, breaking the silence with a soft, contented sigh. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Newt looked down at you, his eyes alight with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “With you here, love,” he said, voice tender, “we might as well be.”

You laughed softly, nudging his shoulder. “That’s corny, even for you.”

But he just grinned, unbothered, letting his hand fall to trace gentle patterns along your arm. His touch was light, calming, grounding you in a way only Newt could. It was as if the whole world faded away, leaving only this small, perfect moment with him.

As you both watched the sky darken and the first stars appear, he shifted to look at you more closely. “I know this place isn’t much,” he started, a bit hesitant. “But… I want you to know that with you, even the Glade feels like somewhere special.”

You felt your cheeks flush, warmth blossoming in your chest. He was like that—always making you feel like you were someone irreplaceable, like you were everything to him. You lifted a hand, brushing a lock of hair from his face, letting your fingers linger along his jaw. “It’s you that makes it special for me, too,” you said softly. “No place could ever be too dark, not with you in it.”

For a moment, he looked at you in that way he sometimes did, the way that made you feel like there was nothing else he saw. His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your hand firmly as if he’d never let go.

“Promise me,” he whispered, voice carrying an unspoken worry, as if something beyond your view haunted him. “No matter what happens… you’ll be here, with me.”

You gave him a smile, squeezing his hand. “Newt... we can't guarantee—"

He lifted your chin ever so gently, cutting you off. "Promise me."

"Always."

He took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, his eyes lingering on yours with something deeper—a quiet understanding. A silent promise.

And for that moment, everything felt whole. You knew there would be dark days and shadows still to come, but as long as you had this, as long as you could hold onto each other, it was enough.

Yet, somewhere in his gaze, you thought you caught a fleeting hint of something—fear, perhaps, or the kind of acceptance only seen in someone who understood that some things, no matter how much love could try to hold them, couldn’t last forever.

---

Drowning

Draco Malfoy x Troubled!Reader

Angst

AN: Ghosted for a while, back now. Wrote this because life is fucking miserable. Wrote this during a call from my dad berating me over bullshit. Might take a while to get back to this because holy fuck I can’t do this.

Summary: Two people sink under the weight of the expectations placed on them.

Story under the cut

The forest swallowed your cries whole. The world was black and empty around you, just the way you wanted it. The air burned in your chest as you tried to catch your breath between muffled sobs, but it felt like the trees were closing in, suffocating you.

You pressed your forehead against your knees, curling into yourself like you could somehow shrink small enough to disappear completely. The damp moss seeped into your skirt, and the cold bit at your skin, but none of it mattered. Nothing did.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out here. The castle felt like a lifetime away, and that was a comfort. You didn’t have to hear their voices. Not your parents’, not your professors’, not your friends’. All their expectations, their constant demands—they couldn’t reach you here. But their words? They still echoed in your mind.

“You’ll ruin everything if you don’t listen.”

“Do you think this is about what you want?”

“Ungrateful little—”

A sharp gasp clawed its way out of your throat, and you dug your nails into your arms, trying to hold yourself together. But it wasn’t working. You were unraveling, and no one could stop it.

“Crying in the dark doesn’t solve anything, you know.”

The voice made you flinch. You hadn’t heard anyone approach, but there he was, leaning lazily against a tree as if he had every right to invade your crumbling solitude. Draco Malfoy. His grey eyes glinted in the dim light, sharp and piercing, but his expression wasn’t mocking. Not tonight.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” you croaked, your voice raw and broken.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his boots crunching on the leaves. “What are you doing out here?”

“Go away,” you snapped, though it lacked any real force.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he crouched down a few feet away, resting his forearms on his knees. His gaze never left you, and it made you feel exposed, like he could see every raw nerve and broken piece you were trying so desperately to hide.

“You think I don’t know what this feels like?” he asked quietly.

You barked out a laugh, bitter and humorless. “Oh, I’m sure your perfect little life is so hard.”

He stiffened at that, but his jaw only tightened. “Perfect?” he repeated, his voice dripping with something that wasn’t quite anger. “You think growing up in the Malfoy family is perfect? You think having every move dictated, every thought criticized, every mistake punished is perfect?”

His words hit you like a slap.

Draco’s voice dropped, quieter but no less cutting. “You don’t get to talk about things you don’t understand.”

You looked away, shame prickling at your skin. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, you heard him exhale, the sound sharp and shaky. “I know what it’s like,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “To feel like there’s no escape. To wake up every day knowing nothing you do will ever be enough for them.”

Your throat tightened. You wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t understand. But the words wouldn’t come.

Draco sat down beside you, leaving a deliberate space between you. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Sometimes I come out here too,” he confessed. “When it gets too much. When I can’t breathe in that place anymore.”

You turned your head slightly, studying his profile in the faint moonlight. His sharp features were unguarded for once, his usual smirk replaced by something that looked suspiciously like pain.

“I didn’t think you cared about anything,” you whispered.

He let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor. “I don’t have the luxury of not caring. Not when everything I do reflects back on them.” He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “And neither do you, apparently.”

Your chest ached at the truth of his words.

“They’re never going to stop, you know,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the shadows ahead. “They’ll keep taking and taking until there’s nothing left of you.”

“I know.” Your voice broke on the words, and you hated yourself for it.

Draco turned to look at you then, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Then don’t let them win,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Don’t let them take everything.”

You laughed bitterly, tears streaming down your face. “And what’s left for me to keep?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, to your surprise, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours briefly before pulling away. The touch was fleeting, but it was enough to ground you, just a little.

“You keep the parts of yourself they can’t touch,” he said softly. “Even if it’s just a shred. Even if it’s just the fact that you’re still here.”

You didn’t answer, but something in his words stayed with you. It wasn’t comforting, not exactly. But it felt real, and that was enough.

Draco didn’t say anything else. He just stayed there beside you, the two of you sitting in the darkness like shadows made flesh. It wasn’t peace, but it wasn’t loneliness either. It was something in between. And for now, that was enough.

---

Live and Let die

Obi Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader

Angst and comfort

Summary: Finding solace in him through suffering.

Inspired by: Live and Let Die by Wings. (Yes, from Shrek)

Story under the cut:

The bruises from the mission hadn’t even begun to fade, yet the sting of failure burned far deeper than any wound. You replayed the scene in your head—the split-second hesitation, the wrong move that cost lives. It didn’t matter that your mistakes weren’t intentional. The weight of them crushed you all the same.

You were supposed to be better. Stronger. Wiser. But instead, you were here, curled up in the shadows of the Jedi Temple’s gardens, your hands trembling as you wiped furiously at the tears tracking down your face.

“I thought I might find you here,” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through the quiet like a gentle blade.

You stiffened, dragging your sleeve across your face as if you could erase the evidence of your breakdown. “I’m fine, Master,” you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Obi-Wan didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he moved closer, lowering himself onto the stone bench beside you. The silence stretched, his presence steady but unyielding.

“You’re not fine,” he said at last, his tone soft but resolute.

That broke something in you. “Of course I’m not fine!” you snapped, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions. “I keep screwing up, Master. Over and over again. No matter how hard I try, I always let someone down.”

Your fists clenched on your knees, your nails digging into your palms as you stared at the ground. “Do you know what they said?” you whispered, voice cracking. “They said I hesitated. That if I hadn’t—if I’d just been faster, stronger—people wouldn’t have died. And they’re right. I keep failing, and I don’t even know how to stop.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed, his expression shadowed with concern. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Padawan,” he began carefully, “you’re carrying the weight of this entire mission on your shoulders. That’s a burden no one should bear alone.”

“I have to bear it,” you shot back, your voice rising. “If I don’t, who will? I’m supposed to be a Jedi, aren’t I? We’re supposed to protect people—keep them safe. But I keep failing. How can I call myself a Jedi when I can’t even do that?”

Your words hung in the air, raw and bitter. For a long moment, Obi-Wan said nothing. Then he spoke, his voice low and heavy with memory.

“There was a time,” he said slowly, “when I stood where you are now. When I thought every failure was a sign of my inadequacy, a mark of my weakness. I believed I had to be perfect. That anything less meant I wasn’t worthy of being a Jedi.”

You looked up at him then, startled by the vulnerability in his voice. His gaze was distant, as if he were seeing ghosts.

“But perfection,” he continued, “is an illusion. One that will destroy you if you let it. The galaxy is cruel, Padawan. You can do everything right, and still, it won’t be enough. You can’t save everyone. And that… is not your fault.”

Your chest tightened, his words both a comfort and a knife. “It feels like my fault,” you whispered.

Obi-Wan’s hand tightened gently on your shoulder, grounding you. “That is the burden of compassion,” he said. “We carry the weight of others’ pain because we care. But if you let it consume you, it will drown you. You must learn to let go—not of your care, but of the guilt that comes with it. We live. We let go. And we learn.”

Tears burned in your eyes, and you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Because I believe in you. Even when you doubt yourself, I will never doubt the strength I see in you. But that strength doesn’t mean never failing. It means standing back up, no matter how many times you fall.”

His words cracked something open in you, the floodgates breaking as the tears spilled freely. Obi-Wan didn’t move away. He stayed beside you, his presence a steady anchor as you let yourself feel the weight of your grief and frustration.

When the tears finally slowed, you turned to him, your voice hoarse. “What if I mess up again?”

“You will,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We all do. But you’ll rise again. And when you do, you’ll be stronger for it.”

You nodded slowly, his words a lifeline you clung to. The weight on your chest wasn’t gone, but it was lighter now. Manageable.

“Thank you, Master,” you murmured.

Obi-Wan rose, offering you a hand. “Come now, Padawan. There’s much to do, and tomorrow is another chance to grow.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And for the first time, you felt like you could keep going.

---

FANTASTIC BEASTS

angst : 🌩

fluff : 🌸

requests : 📩

This is a SFW blog, so no smut (because I'm not quite there yet) NEWT SCAMANDER: Oneshots: > Heart of the Forest 🌸 (synopsis: When a magical creature escapes into the Forbidden Forest, Newt Scamander unexpectedly finds himself with an unlikely companion on a wild chase that tests his patience, courage, and perhaps, a bit of his heart.)

> Frost 📩 🌩️ (synopsis: When Teddy gets hurt, she turns cold, leaving Newt to earn back her trust while she spoils their injured Niffler rotten.)

Tough Love

Rocket Raccoon x GOTG!Reader

Fluff, teeny bit of angst

Summary: You pass out from overworking and it shows how much Rocket actually cares.

AN: your little reminder to stop and take breaks. We are human, we need time to ourselves. Give yourself five minutes to slack and chill and be as lazy as you want, but then pick it back up again. Love yall 🥰

The ship was quiet, aside from the gentle hum of the engines and the occasional metallic clink from Rocket’s tools. You’d been at it for hours—running diagnostics, fixing systems, checking every detail twice because that’s just how you were. But exhaustion was beginning to creep in, wrapping around your body like a heavy, invisible weight.

You hadn’t noticed when you finally slumped over your station, arms folded beneath your head. The blur of wires and machinery slowly faded away as your eyes fluttered shut.

Rocket noticed, though. His usual gruff demeanor didn’t falter as he glanced your way, muttering something under his breath about "dumb humans overworking themselves." But instead of waking you up with his usual sarcastic quip, he sighed.

With a quick look around to make sure no one else was paying attention, Rocket shuffled over to your side. His steps were lighter, quieter than usual. The sight of you curled up and dead asleep softened his hardened expression for just a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning at himself as if wondering why he was even bothering. Then, before he could overthink it, he grabbed a spare blanket from one of the supply crates and carefully draped it over you.

"Stupid," he muttered, shaking his head as he stood there for a second longer than necessary, watching the slow rise and fall of your breathing. "Gonna work yourself to death one day, y’know that?"

Satisfied that you were comfortable enough, Rocket retreated to his workstation, ears twitching at every small sound. Despite the fact that no one was watching, he continued with his usual snarky remarks under his breath, but there was something different in the air—an unspoken care that lingered in the silence.

When you woke up, it took a moment to remember where you were. The ship’s cold metal floor wasn’t exactly conducive to sleep, but there was something else—soft warmth enveloping you. You blinked blearily, sitting up slowly, only to find yourself wrapped in a blanket.

A blanket that definitely hadn’t been there when you passed out.

Rocket was still tinkering away across the room, grumbling at a stubborn panel. You watched him for a moment, something swelling in your chest as realization washed over you. He hadn’t said anything, of course—Rocket never did. But you knew. He cared. More than he let on.

With a soft smile, you stood up, the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders like a cape. You padded quietly over to him, heart full, and without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around him from behind in a warm, grateful hug.

Rocket stiffened instantly. "What the—hey! What’re you doin’?!" His voice was sharp, but the way he didn’t immediately shove you off said more than he ever could.

"Thank you," you murmured softly, your face still pressed against his shoulder. You could feel the way his fur bristled under your touch, but you also noticed how he didn’t push you away. He hesitated, as if struggling to keep up his usual gruff exterior.

"Yeah, well… don’t go getting all soft on me," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder quickly. "You’re the one who passed out in the middle of a job. Not my problem if you can't handle it."

You smiled, knowing full well he was trying to save face. But before you could respond, there was a soft cough from behind.

The rest of the Guardians had gathered near the doorway, each of them wearing expressions ranging from amused to knowing. Drax, predictably, was the first to speak.

"It is obvious Rocket cares for you deeply," he announced, as blunt as ever. "This hug confirms it."

Rocket bristled instantly, his ears flattening against his head. "Shut up, Drax!" He shoved your arms off, finally turning around to face the others with a scowl. "I don’t care about anybody. She’s just—ugh, whatever! Y’all are delusional."

Peter smirked, arms crossed over his chest. "Sure, Rocket. Totally believable."

Gamora gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, while Groot swayed gently in the background, seemingly pleased with the scene unfolding. The whole team knew better, and you could see it in the way they exchanged glances and held back their laughter.

Rocket, clearly flustered, shot you a look. "Don’t ever do that again," he growled, though his voice had lost some of its edge. "I ain’t some teddy bear for you to cuddle whenever you feel like it."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "Okay, Rocket. Whatever you say."

But you knew. And so did everyone else. Beneath all the sarcasm and tough-guy attitude, Rocket cared. He just didn’t know how to say it.

And maybe that was enough.

---

Ink.

Newt x reader

Angst

summary: In his last moments of clarity, Newt writes a letter to you, fearing the end as the Flare tightens its grip on his mind, but clinging to the memory of your voice.

note: this is my first time posting my writing (this was my first work that I saved in my notes app so please go easy, but do drop a comment so I know how and where to work on it)

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The paper trembles in his grip, its edges curling under the weight of the words he can't yet bring himself to write. The air feels heavy, thick with the staleness of a room too quiet, too still, like a space that has forgotten the sounds of life. He stares at the blank page, the ink from his pen bleeding softly into the grain as if it too is hesitant, afraid to stain the white with what it knows must come.

Outside, the wind howls low, a distant cry through the cracked window, but it’s your voice that haunts the silence. Not in words. No, it’s the rhythm of your laughter echoing in the back of his mind, the way it used to fill the room so effortlessly. He can still feel the ghost of your breath against his skin, cool and soft, like the first morning dew settling on a world that didn’t deserve it.

But now the warmth is gone, swept away by the creeping coldness that wraps tighter around his thoughts. The Flare, slow and cruel, coils itself deeper inside him, dragging every memory of you through a haze until your face becomes just a shadow behind his eyes. His hand jerks, trembling against his will, ink splattering onto the page like a wound freshly opened.

He should stop. Let you go before the disease takes even that—takes you from him, in the only way he has left to hold onto you.

But he can’t. Not yet.

His fingers trace the outline of your name, barely pressing down on the pen, as if he can somehow carve your presence into the moment without breaking it. He swallows against the knot in his throat, but it’s not sorrow—it’s the fear of forgetting what it felt like to have you close, to feel your hand slipping into his when words failed you both.

His chest tightens, not with pain, but with the unbearable lightness of the memories that float just beyond his reach now. The smell of the earth beneath your feet when you would walk together after the sun had sunk below the horizon, your whispered thoughts lost to the darkness around you both, shared in the space between breaths.

That’s what he’s fighting to keep, what the Flare threatens to strip away—those moments when the world fell away, and it was just you.

The pen presses harder now, the ink running in uneven lines, as though time itself is pushing him forward, rushing him to finish before he loses the strength to. The words don’t come in sentences; they are fragments, bursts of thoughts too fragile to be held together. But you will understand. You always did.

He writes of the way the sound of your voice held him together when everything else fell apart, of how your presence was the one light he chased even as the darkness grew inside him. He writes of the end, not in fear, but in the simple acceptance of what is to come, because you would want him to be honest, not heroic.

And as the ink dries, his vision blurs—not from tears, no, those dried long ago—but from the soft haze of a mind slowly unraveling. He folds the letter, pressing it to his lips, the faint taste of paper and ink bitter against his skin, a poor imitation of the warmth he remembers from you.

He leaves it on the table, a final goodbye.

Before the Flare takes him too.

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