#I can DAYDREAM about fics very well to music

[leupagus]

do you write to music /lofi /white noise /etc?

I don't, weirdly — it tends to distract me, though if I'm in a public area and there's background noise that's not usually a problem. Weirdly though, the white noise programs that simulate background noise in like a cafe or something are also too distracting. Why? I have no idea. My brain is weird.

[lovesour]

musings below

[peterparkouryo]

fell from the sky into my lap | ⍣ ೋ

⍣ ೋ

prompt; You encounter a very charming boy on the train.

warning: fluff, fluff, and did i mention fluff?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: meet cute!! i missed writing <3 (also ignore the fact that i used this gif once b4, feel free to send me tom gifs for future fics 😭)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

You step out of Midtown High, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. You had decided to stay after school, opting to have a small study session with a few of your friends for an upcoming test for the gruesome mathematics class, also known as calculus. The weight of your backpack pulls slightly at your shoulders as you make your way down the stairs of the school building, balmy wind blusters against your skin. Descending down the stairs finally, you keep your head down and walk across the football field, creating a safe distance between you and the ongoing practice taking place. 

What seemed forever, but in reality was maybe a good two to three minute walk off the school grounds, you head toward the train station. The familiar hum of chatter and the rhythmic clack of shoes on the sidewalk fill the air, blending into a comforting soundtrack of the end of the school day.

As you approach the station, the distant sound of a train horn echoes, signalling its arrival. Just in time, you thought to yourself. You quicken your pace, the excitement of heading home, mixed with the anticipation of the journey itself, propelling you forward. The station is a bustling hub of activity, with students, commuters, and travelers weaving in and out of the crowd.

You swipe your transit card at the turnstile, the beep granting you passage onto the platform. The cool, metallic scent of the train station mingles with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You glance up at the electronic display board, noting the arrival time of your train. It's right on schedule.

The train glides into the station with a soft hiss of brakes and a rush of wind. The doors slide open, inviting you inside. You step onto the train, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the warmth outside. You find a seat by the window and settle in, reaching into your backpack and digging through to find your wired headphones, despite begging your parents for regular ones.

You open your phone, clicking the green app for music, scrolling through many playlists you've obsessively created for various different scenarios. Picking a playlist you don't remember creating, you let out a tired yawn and sit back, wandering your eyes to the left, and daydreaming  about your bed. 

The train ride was relatively quiet, aside from a crying baby (not that you could hear it, but breaking your daydream to observe your surroundings, you could see a crying baby), and the loud music blasting in your ears. 

For the next six minutes, the music from your headphones consumed your ears, guaranteed to worsen your hearing in the next twenty years or so. You were at an unusual ease you normally don't feel when you're alone on a train by yourself. It could do with the fact that there was maybe five or six people onboard, you weren't too sure.

You lay your head back against the seat and stare out the window, the passing buildings rapidly leaving your vision. A bored sigh leaves your lips, the spotify ad only adding onto the exhaustion you felt. 

The train stops, indicating people were either leaving or stepping on the train, and you tear your gaze away from the window out of curiosity, watching a couple people swipe their transit cards. You notice the last person, a boy with hair as brown as a bear, swipe his card more than once, and you can only assume something was wrong.

The more you watch the boy struggle, the more you feel bad because not only was the operator getting impatient, the passengers moan and groan as well. Slowly you dig into your pocket for your card, standing up and swiftly walking to the front of the train. Showing the boy a friendly smile, you glance at the operator, who's eyebrows were furrowed and a permanent frown carved onto his face.

"Um, he can use my card." You say unsurely, not entirely positive thats even how transit cards work.

The man narrows his eyes and stares between you and the boy for a good while before he exhales a huff.

"Go ahead, you're holding up my line." He mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance behind you, seeing that it was only the boy and no one else, but you decide not to say anything about it.

You swipe the transit card, watching the red dot change to green, and the boy sighs in relief.

"Thank you." He says, watching your every move as you put your card back into your pocket.

You nod and your eyes drift to his face, studying him carefully, because boy, he was gorgeous. The boy had eyes just as brown as his hair, maybe even a little lighter with the golden specks straggling within them. If anyone was lucky (such as yourself) to stand so close to him, one might be able to see the small barely visible, but undeniably delightful freckles scattered across his nose.

Your eyes trail down to his lips, but not in a weird way, the small smile etched on his face captivated you and deep in your stomach, you swore you felt butterflies erupt. The smile was warm and inviting, and one of his most endearing features, capable of lighting up his entire face. It gave him a friendly, yet approachable demeanour. 

He was the kind of person who had the-boy-next-door kind of vibe, and you can't help but gaze longer than intended, making him uncomfortable in a way you had no intentions of doing.

So, you clear your throat, and quickly look at your shoes. 

"Its no problem." You mutter.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

That challenge, however quickly crashes when you glance at him only to see him gazing back, in a way that wasn't entirely creepy, but cumbersome for the both of you. You do your best to show him a smile, cringing slightly when you realize its more of a nervous grimace than what you intended.

Though, he shows no signs of being weirded out by your so called "smile", he waves as you wave back. A rush of warmth and pleasantry overtakes you when he looks away. You'd think this is the first time any boy has ever showed you this much attention, no matter how little it might have been.

Minutes pass in a blur as the train carries you forward, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Ultimately, you reach your stop and you gather your things, albeit a bit reluctantly. As you leave, you bite your lower lip and share a scrutiny when you walk past him, making your exit off the train.

While you step off the train, and make it your mission to ascend up the stairs, a hand purchases on your shoulder causing you to flinch fearfully, many thoughts running through your head as you make the stupid decision to turn around to face the culprit.

 All fears subside once you meet the familiar chestnut brown eyes of the boy from the train.

He realizes your initial fear and holds up your tangled headphones. "You left these on the train." He blinks.

"Thank you." You obligate, retrieving the headphones from his hand.

The boy nods and buries his hands in his pocket, unwieldy looking around.

You tilt your head as a thought comes about.

"Is this your stop?" You wonder.

He breaks his train of thought and stares right at you before laughing awkwardly. "Um, no my stop was actually three more blocks away." He informs and guilt fills you at that information.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You apologize, frowning.

He shakes his head quickly. 

"No, its fine I was just going to stop at Delmar's anyway." He reassures and smiles, holding out his hand.

"Also, I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker." 

You return the smile and shake Peter's hand at his dorky introduction, speaking your name in greeting.

"I know, we share a gym class." Peter says.

You blink at the revelation, having no idea he even went to Midtown. Small world, you think.

"Anyway, is it okay if I walk you up the stairs, in a non weird way that seems creepy." Peter offers shyly, interrupting the barely there silence. There was something about his adorably dunce proposal that made you appreciate him despite only knowing the boy for ten minutes at most.

"Sure." You agree all too eagerly.

With new found courage, you and Peter make your way up the stairs of the train station and you're greeted with the bustling New York city, of what you can only describe as chaotic, honking cars and fellow civilians either on their arguing or arguing on their phones.

You felt excited to be walking next to Peter, no matter how small your interactions have been or how little you two new each other, you were grateful for his presence.

Grateful that you decided to take the train. Had you would've walked, only god knows what could've happened, the foreign feeling of butterflies in your stomach would not had been, that's for certain.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog

shoutout to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

An exclusive deal

Written for @astrangersummer, week 12

Prompt: not-date

Rated: M

Words: 1,778 (also on AO3)

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Sex work; Attempted non-con (mentioned); Protective Eddie; Possessive Eddie

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

Eddie has been fantasizing about Steve Harrington for as long as he can remember. 

There was nothing tender to it in the beginning. Eddie was well aware of high school hierarchies and the unspoken laws of small town life. He was a freak who listened to the wrong kind of music, who lived on the shady end of town and sold drugs from his run-down van. He’d never amount to much in life. 

Steve on the other hand? Perfect, pretty King Steve with his rich parents, the big house, a different girl on each arm every weekend? That boy was destined to go far, everyone in Hawkins knew that much. 

Eddie was not an idiot. He knew that there were worlds between the two of them. There was no way in hell Steve would ever be his. And so he contented himself with imagining how that soft, smooth skin would feel under his hands, how those lips would taste as he sucked and bit at them while Steve moaned into his mouth. How the muscles of those perfect thighs would shake, wrapped around his waist or slung over his shoulders as he slowly reduced the King to a whining, sobbing mess.  

Eddie booked it out of Hawkins the second he finally had his diploma in hand. He never once looked back. He still thought about Steve, occasionally. 

It was only after they met again, years and miles away from that wretched place and with their positions in life all but flipped that Eddie's fantasies took a different turn. 

Suddenly, Steve wasn't just an unattainable pretty face floating past in the hallways, but an actual, real person. Still floating, mind you, now on roller skates while waiting tables, but a person no less. A person with a past he refused to discuss. A person with a stubborn streak for miles and a beautiful, snarky sense of humor, and a soft, vulnerable side he was desperate to protect. 

And suddenly, without warning, Eddie’s feelings shifted. Suddenly, he found himself preening at each glimpse of that smile, found his chest growing warm and tingly every time Steve accepted his tip money or leftover food.

Suddenly, the very thing that had always been a distant daydream seemed possible, and suddenly, he found himself craving it with a burning urgency that startled even himself. 

He wanted Steve to be his. 

And now, Steve is here in his apartment, shifting on the sofa so that he can lean further into Eddie’s space.

It's everything Eddie has been thinking about for weeks. Having Steve here, in his living room, close enough to feel his body heat, close enough to touch.

Except this is not a date. 

“Ow, fuck,” he hisses as Steve touches a piece of alcohol-drenched gauze to his split lip. “That hurts!” 

Steve scowls at him. 

“It wouldn't hurt so much if you could stop fidgeting for five seconds” he scolds, but his touch goes more gentle. “We need to clean this before it gets infected.” 

“Well,” Eddie says, “Maybe I’d stop fidgeting if you were more careful.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, putting two fingers to Eddie’s chin so that he can keep his head in place. “Stop being such a crybaby. I swear to God, I've babysat four-year-olds less whiny than you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie snarks. “I doubt the four-year-olds ever had their heads bashed in trying to protect you from some sleazy, wannabe rapist in a dark side alley, so there.”

Steve freezes. 

“Shit,” Eddie says, fighting against the rapidly rising urge to punch himself again. He's probably mildly concussed already, God knows he can do without extra hits. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay,” Steve says, but his expression has become guarded and distant again. Before Eddie can stop him, he stands, snatching the first aid kit from its place by their feet and carrying it over to the side table standing a small way off. A tense silence settles over the room while he turns his back, pretending to organize the contents, and Eddie wrecks his brain for something to say to lift the mood.

“Who was that douchebag, anyhow?” is what his mouth settles on. Steve's shoulders go rigid, and scratch that, Eddie clearly hasn't been punched enough yet. 

“Dunno,” Steve mutters, just as Eddie is considering whether to bash his stupid fucking head against the sofa table or the nearest wall. “I don't ask their names, usually.” 

Eddie can practically feel how the remaining color drains from his face. 

“Wait, whoa,” he blurts. “Hold on a second. Their names? As in plural? What the hell, Steve?” 

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Steve slams the first aid kit shut so hard the plastic cracks, and whirls around. “Don't act so shocked. You think I'm getting by on waiting tables alone? Please! We're both grown-ass adults, don't make me spell it out for you.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie screeches. His hands are shaking, he can hear his own blood in his ears, and apparently, he's gotten off the sofa at some point, because he's on his feet and Steve takes a step back as he advances on him, bumping his ass against the table. “What are you even- … You can't do that.” 

Steve's eyes go hard. 

“Why not?” he asks, and the aloof tone and stubborn jut to his chin remind Eddie painfully of the first time they met again at the diner. “What's it to you?” 

Everything, Eddie wants to say. It's fucking everything to him, because Steve is everything, and the idea of Steve with anyone else makes his blood boil and his stomach twist.  

“I just…” he stutters instead. “I don't- … I don't get it. Money's a little tight, so you thought it would be a good idea to fuck strangers in an alleyway?” 

Steve flushes and sputters. It would be adorable, under any other circumstances, if Eddie could feel anything but helpless rage right now. 

“I don't fuck them,” he says. “I just …” 

He trails off, blush darkening by about five shades. His eyes stay glued to one of the framed band posters on Eddie’s wall as he forms a loose circle with his thumb and fingers. He does a vague, jerky up-and-down motion, once, before he lets his hand flop to his side. 

“Sometimes I suck ‘em off, but only if they're nice and pay extra.” 

Eddie stares at him. Maybe, if the situation was any different, he'd find it funny how Steve can't bring himself to say the word handjob, but will casually talk about sucking someone off for a bit of extra money, but right now, all he wants to do is scream. The thought of Steve on his knees in that dark, stinking side alley, of that pretty, pink mouth opening for some other guy's cock, fills his mind with dark needlepoints of red. 

“Are you fucking serious?” His hands have found his hair, pulling on a fistful of curls until his scalp stings. “That's- … Shit, that's dangerous, Steve. Do you have any idea what-” 

“Oh, wow!” Steve throws up his hands and laughs, but there's no joy in it. “It's dangerous? Really? Well, thank you for telling me. What would I ever do without you?” 

“Well excuse the fuck out of me,” Eddie snaps, and his voice rises dangerously. “Like what, I'm not allowed to worry about you?” 

“No, you're not!” 

The words bounce unpleasantly off the walls of the living room. They feel like a punch to the gut, and without his conscious doing, Eddie finds himself stumbling a step backwards. Steve takes in the shock on his face and huffs. 

“You're not,” he repeats, more calmly this time, and somehow it's even worse the second time around. “You don't get to- … fuck, Eddie, I dunno what you think this is, but we're not- … You're a customer. I serve you food, you pay me. You tip well, so I'm nice to you, but that's- … We are not friends. You don't get to worry about me, and you most definitely do not get to tell me what to do or not to do with my body, okay?” 

Silence settles between them. Somewhere outside, the sound of sirens slices through the night. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I'm- … okay.” 

Steve nods. His breath is coming in ragged little puffs. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Good. Thanks for helping me out.” 

Panic clawing at his chest, Eddie watches how he turns, picking up the bag with his roller skates from the floor. He wants to shout out, wants to tell Steve not to leave, wants to lunge and hold him back and never let him go again. 

But he can’t. This is not a date. They’re not friends. Steve isn’t his, and he can't tell him what to do, can't protect him, can't do anything but pay him for his service and hope that-

“Wait.”

The word is out before the thought fully settles. Steve turns on the threshold of the living room, eyes weary and tired. 

“What?” 

Eddie doesn't allow himself time to pause. If he did, he'd think about what a horrible idea this is, and he doesn't have time to second-guess himself now.

“How much do you make with that little side hustle of yours?” 

Steve shrugs. 

“Depends? I have a couple of regulars, but-” He cuts himself off and Eddie can see how he reels himself back in, how his shoulders go rigid and his expression closes off. “Why should I tell you?” 

“Because I'll double it.” Eddie means to sound bold and confident, but he nearly barrels over himself in his haste to get the words out, and his voice cracks pathetically on the last syllables. A disbelieving little smile twitches over Steve’s face.

“You'll what?” 

“Double it,” Eddie repeats, more firmly this time. He finally finds the use of his feet again, bridging the distance between them with a few quick steps. Steve’s smile drops. “No, screw this, I'll triple it. You want me as a customer, I'll be your goddamn customer. On one condition.” 

Steve's shoulders bump against the doorframe as Eddie steps into his space. For a second or two, Eddie thinks he's going to bolt - run right out the front door and into the darkness, maybe disappear from Eddie’s life forever. But he stays. Stays close enough for Eddie to see how his breath hitches in his throat. Close enough for Eddie to see the temptation in those gold-flecked eyes. 

He knows he has won before he even says it, and it fills him with a grim, possessive satisfaction. He's probably a horrible person for it. 

“I want this to be an exclusive deal.” 

To be continued ...

Tag list: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie

@formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[sleepykye]

Hi, I absolutely love your Tamaki fics! Could you maybe do the SFW alphabet for him? 🥺 detailed if possible? 💫

Tamaki Headcannons

Alphabetical order

I'm sorry for responding late, I haven't been on lately for tumblr 😔

(Too busy playing genshin)

A - Adoring Glances: Tamaki often sneaks little glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, admiring how calm and confident you are compared to his nervousness.

B - Bashful Compliments: When you compliment him, he gets incredibly flustered, stumbling over his words as he tries to return the compliment, always finding something kind to say about you.

C - Calming Presence: He finds your presence deeply calming. When he’s feeling anxious, just being near you or hearing your voice is enough to help him relax.

D - Daydreaming About You: Tamaki often daydreams about quiet moments with you, imagining simple, peaceful times together like sitting in the park or reading side by side.

E - Encourages Your Talents: Even though he’s shy, he loves seeing you excel at the things you’re passionate about, whether it’s playing music, drawing, or anything else. He quietly cheers you on from the sidelines.

F - Fidgeting Around You: When you’re close to him, Tamaki can’t help but fidget nervously, adjusting his clothes or playing with his hands, especially if you’re paying attention to him.

G - Gives You Space When Needed: Tamaki understands when you need some alone time and is respectful of that, never pushing you for attention but always being there when you want company.

H - Helps You in Subtle Ways: He quietly supports you, whether it’s helping you with a task without being asked or making sure you have everything you need before a big day.

I - Intuitive About Your Feelings: Tamaki is highly attuned to your emotions. He can sense when you’re feeling off, and though he may be shy, he’ll always ask if you’re okay or offer a gentle word of comfort.

J - Jealous but Quiet: If someone else flirts with you, he gets a bit jealous but doesn’t say anything unless you notice and reassure him. His worry is more about not feeling good enough for you.

K - Keeps Mementos of You: Whether it’s a note you wrote him or a small trinket from one of your outings, Tamaki quietly treasures little things that remind him of you.

L - Loves Listening to You Talk: Even if he’s shy about speaking, he could listen to you for hours. Whether you’re talking about your day, your passions, or even something random, he’s always engaged.

M - Mutually Protective: He’s quietly protective of you, always watching out to make sure you’re safe, and he deeply appreciates how you look out for him as well.

N - Never Pushes You: Tamaki respects your boundaries and never pressures you into anything, always letting you take the lead in situations that might make him nervous.

O - Offers Gentle Affection: While he’s not very forward, Tamaki loves when you initiate small gestures of affection, like holding his hand or giving him a hug, and he’ll always reciprocate softly.

P - Praises Your Strength: He constantly admires your confidence and strength, often telling you how amazing you are in his own quiet way, whether it's after you’ve done something impressive or just on a regular day.

Q - Quietly Supports Your Goals: Whatever your ambitions are, Tamaki is right there with you. He may not always know what to say, but he’s always cheering for you and ready to help however he can.

R - Relaxes When You’re Around: Your presence has a soothing effect on him. When he’s overwhelmed, he feels more at ease when you’re nearby, whether you’re comforting him or just sitting together in silence.

S - Shares His Insecurities: Tamaki may be shy, but he trusts you enough to open up about his worries and insecurities. He finds comfort in your understanding and the way you reassure him.

T - Tells You How Much You Mean to Him: It takes him a while to work up the courage, but every now and then, Tamaki shyly tells you just how important you are to him, his words always sincere and full of affection.

U - Understands Your Passions: He may not always share your hobbies, but Tamaki makes a genuine effort to understand the things that make you happy, listening closely when you talk about your interests.

V - Values Every Moment With You: Whether you’re out on an adventure or just relaxing at home, Tamaki cherishes every moment spent with you, often replaying them in his mind later on.

W - Worries About You Sometimes: He can’t help but worry about your safety, especially if you’re going through something stressful. He might not always say it, but he’s always thinking of you and hoping you’re okay.

X - Xtra Considerate: Tamaki is always thinking of ways to make your life easier or better. He’ll remember little things, like your favorite snack or the way you like your coffee, and surprise you with them.

Y - Yearns for Quiet Time Together: He loves quiet, intimate moments with you, whether it’s reading side by side, watching a show together, or simply being in each other’s company.

Z - Zero Judgment: You can always be yourself around Tamaki. He never judges you for your quirks, mistakes, or insecurities and always accepts you for who you are.

[diorgirl444]

meet the girls! or an intro to my current readers in my d.w fics ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ •

warnings: fem!reader, i made the moodboards based on my own appearance but there is no physical descriptions of their appearance in my writing so anyone can read it <3 if you want to make your own mood board based on how you see yourself as one of them tag me! i’d absolutely love it <3

sweetheart! reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ •

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ about her: she’s sweet obviously!, shy, kind, optimistic, hopeless romantic, daydreamer, naive at times and very girly. she adores lace and flowers and old books. her favourite book is emma. in school she does well in the more humanitarian lessons but anything physical or mathematical her brain shuts off. out of the three she’s the most quiet despite having the largest friend group. she is the youngest of four with only older brothers so she is a bit of the princess of the family with them all babying her but that’s how she likes it! her father is a stock broker and her mother a housewife. she is very close with her grandmother and attends DAR meetings every week with her. she has a pet puppy named françoise after her favourite singer françoise hardy who she calls francie for short. francie hates dallas. she did ballet as a child and was so bad at it though she loved the costumes and going to watch it with her grandparents at christmas time. her favourite is the nutcracker. every christmas her and her brothers put on plays for the younger cousins, it’s some of her favourite memories. she has a silver heart locket which she never takes off and one side it has a picture of francie and on the other a picture of dallas. every year she volunteers at the local her favourite film is sabrina and she adores audrey hepburn more than anything. she has a bit of a southern accent that she picked up from her mother who was a southern belle in her youth.

farmer’s daughter! reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ •

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ about her: she is bubbly, excitable, childish at times, sheltered, energetic, hard-working, clumsy and full of life. because she’s grown up relatively isolated from other people her age sometimes her reading of social cues isn’t the best - she just wants to be friends okay!!! she loves baking, horse-riding and picking fresh fruit. she has a sweet-tooth so whenever her fingers are nearly always stained with berry juice. her clothes are often faded in colour as they’re normally family hand-me downs or made of old bedspreads. she doesn’t mind though! she’s very clumsy and is often falling out of trees or tripping over so she’s very often bruised. she had two twin younger brothers who she dotes on. she has a pet lamb because it was rejected by its mother and like the nursery rhyme goes the lamb follows her absolutely everywhere. the lamb is called daisy-mae. she only learnt the basics at school and so struggles with reading and writing. no other way about it - she talks country but she is kinda embarrassed by it as she thinks she sounds dumb. her most prized possession is a record player which her mama got secondhand for her. she adores it and is nearly always listening to music. her favourites are brenda lee, june carter and skeeter davis. she is left handed and learnt too shoot when she was eight years old. she’s grown up very religious and is best friends with the pastors son who most of the others make fun of for being soft. she once beat a boy up for saying something like that.

hope you like them! part two coming, love flo xoxo

[jxckchxmpi0n]

Hi there. I was wondering if you could do a Spider-Man Ethan x fem!reader where the reader has feelings for Spider-Man and doesn’t know its her friend Ethan who she also grew up having a crush on. Every night the her and Spider-Man talk and hang out on the roof of her apartment. One of the nights there is so much tension that they end up doing the famous Spider-Man kiss. Feelings on both ends are confessed, but Ethan refuses to fully take off his mask. But then one night Spider-Man is extremely injured and loses a lot of blood. So the reader ends up patching him up and has to remove his mask to reveal that it’s her friend Ethan that she’s always had feelings for. Then it can end spicy from there with whatever you’re comfortable writing.

Thank you 😊

OMG! 🕸🕷 I love this idea - ugh, I'm gonna have so much fun writing this ahhhhhh hope you enjoy love 🌼

Two Hearts

Summary : You have a crush on your best friend Ethan- but growing close with Spiderman, and also sharing those same feelings leaves you confused. A rough night for Spiderman ends up revealing secrets.

||m.list

Word count: 3.0k

Warning: Angst, fluff, swearing, blood, mentions of death, slight NSFW.

I love how much music affects my writing. Listened to "hopeless romantic soft mix" while writing this. Made me kick my feet and giggle!! ALSO, THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I HAVE WRITTEN ANNNDDD OH MY GOS I AM SO IN LOVE

There was a new superhero in town, and boy did that 'Spiderman' have all the girls' hearts. He sure had yours, but he will never be Ethan- Ethan was your best friend. He has been by your side since you could remember.

Any person that would see you together thought you were dating, but you weren't. The thought of telling Ethan you liked him - oh boy. That would be the last thing you would do. HE GIVES YOU BUTTERFLIES!!! he makes your stomach turn, and those chocolate brown eyes always make you want to grab his face and smother him in kisses.

Your little daydreams got carried away sometimes, staring off into space when you hang out with him. "y/n, you there?" Shaking the thoughts away, you nod. He then just continues on about science.

But this Spiderman, saving people, helping the elder, oh what a dream he seemed very sweet and always helped no matter how minor the "crime" was.

Not knowing who he was drove New York crazy the secret identity was smart and cool, but it really started to pick up in the school halls.

How old was he?

Was 'he' he or 'she'?

How did they become super?

You were always talking about the latest crime fight Spiderman had done, digging into conspiracies, which always made Ethan laugh.

Lately, you haven't been able to hang out with Ethan as much as he signed up for active work at the police station with his dad. Most nights, he would be busy with his dad doing simple desk work and / or join him in a ride along. So, being on your own was the new daily.

It started a few weeks ago. Slowly, you noticed webs around your neighborhood buildings. 'Maybe Spiderman came through.' he was always around this part of town, so it made sense.

As the school days died down and the city got louder at night, you would relax on the rooftop of your apartment. Being so high in the sky, being able to see over it, was refreshing. Turning your music off, you'd listen to the sounds around you as your mind filled with thoughts. Homework would also fill the gap.

It wasn't until the second week of being on the rooftop that something wild happened. As you sat playing music going over your English notes, right across the street, Spiderman stood watching you. He didn't want to seem like a creep - well, standing in a head-to-toe body suit watching from a rooftop seemed weird, but he kept it lowkey.

He liked seeing you in such peace, sitting looking down at the people who roamed the streets, or how you would lay on your back looking at the sky. You were so beautiful in his eyes. He was so drawn to you, he couldn't just stay away.

Before he realized what he was doing, his arm straightened out activating his webs. Putting his full body weight in the web, he swung over he landed on the opposite side of the roof near you. Why was he so nervous, you don't know who he is! What if this ends up bad! wait, you don't know who he is! this is perfect.

"Why do you sit up here?" he spoke before he could process. The sudden voice made you jump and yelp a little. Looking around, you saw him. He stood a few feet away from you.

'Spiderman, oh my gosh, it's Spiderman,' you thought, your mind racing with so many questions. 'Why is he up here?' 'is this fake' ?Did I fall asleep again?'

"What? are- this- I- Are you really here?" he couldn't help but laugh at your comment and walked closer. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

"Well, duh," he tried to sound smooth, but his voice ended up cracking while he sat in front of you. You laughed as he tried to buff up his look.

"So? Why are you sitting up here?" he tilted his head to the side in a questioning way. The spider eyes on the mask opening and closing softly.

"It's peaceful up here, I get to see the city, and no one else comes up here so it's like the perfect place to escape for a little" your heart ached, you wished Ethan wasn't always so busy so you could take him up here.

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. 'How was he just so calm sitting here with me, like this is normal?'

"I'm sorry, as much as I think this is cool - uh, what are you doing here? Don't you have some crime to fight?" You threw some fake punches his way, laughing to ease your awkwardness.

"I mean, yeah, but it's a slow day, and I just saw you hanging out here. I've actually seen you here a lot the past few weeks, so you know, I just thought I'd see what you do. " he was blushing so hard under the mask, and his body was warm. 'Don't sound like a perv!'

"Do you do this a lot? spy on people?" Your voice is playful and light.

"Me? Well, psh No, I-I haven't done this before. Is it weird - oh, did I make you uncomfortable?!" As he spoke, his voice started to hold some panic.

"What - no, you didn't- NO this is cool! It's cool. I swear, I mean, you're Spiderman, like how wouldn't this be cool."

He felt a little better knowing it didn't make you uncomfortable. Hours had passed, and you talked about what it's like to fight crime and how he got his powers.

This soon became a regular occurrence. Every other night, he would show up and tell you the star crime of the day. You would bring extra drinks and food and give some to him. He would always turn around, or you would close your eyes when he ate/drank.

The feelings you had for him grew into an actual crush, now that you knew him - somewhat you felt like you could trust him.

After a few months, things started to change. He would tease you as you would do the same. Playful touching, whispering as he was inches away from your face. He grew so comfortable around you that he would sit shoulder to shoulder with you.

The smell of his calonge would fill your nose, a sense of familiar came to mind. The tension between you two could be cut by a knife, long shared glances, his body pressed into yours when he would give you his web shooters and show how to use them.

"Would you ever feel comfortable enough to take your mask off?" You sat on the edge of the rooftop with him right next to you, your hands resting near one another. The city lights shined on your face as he looked at you, a soft blush rose to your cheeks.

"Uh, maybe. I'm just scared. " he looked away, not wanting to face you.

"You don't have to be scared," you hand reached for his face, pulling it to face you. Even if you can't see his eyes, you knew they were looking right back at you. "You have my trust, and I promise not to break it," your voice was stern, yet like butter to his ears. His gloved hand went to yours, holding it closer to his face, leaning into your touch, the warmth of your hand seeping into his suit.

"It's getting pretty late; I should get going." Your hand fell from his face, and he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow?" You were already walking towards the door with your bag over your shoulder.

"Yeah, of course!" he smiled under the mask matching the one you wore. Turning around, you could hear the web shooters, meaning he was leaving, but to your surprise, he hung over the door by his web. Looking up, your eyes followed it to the billboard.

"Only a little." He couldn't trust his own voice. He was nervous. 'Did she understand?'

The sound of cars honking and people shouting started to drown out as you stepped closer. 'Was he sure about this?' Your hands got closer to his neck, finding the edge of the mask. "Are you sure?" concerned you asking, pressured him.

"Yes, please." it almost sounded like a whine.

Pulling the mask over his chin past his lips; you stopped right before his nose. Your heart was beating very fast, feeling it in your throat, the butterflies in your stomach, it was driving you insane.

You could see he was blushing, some moles on his face near his lips. His lips, they looked so soft, and your hands held both sides of his face like he was going to get away. Your right hand let go though, reaching to trace his lips; they were soft, but also chapped. Both of your breaths were picking up.

"Please y/n," His voice whining again.

Pulling you out of your trance, you leaned in, "You're so beautiful."

Your lips clashed with his, inhaling his scent. This was heaven. The kiss was rough, the tension finally catching up. Teeth brushing each other sightly, you could feel his head pushing into yours. He wanted more, and so did you. Your lungs were burning gasping for air, but you didn't want to pull away, no, not yet. 'What if this is the only time I can kiss him, feel him?'

He was the first to pull away gasping for air. He just kissed you after wanting to for so long. "I'd like to do that again sometime." he was smiling so wide, being able to see it made your heart do flips.

"You know where to find me." Leaning in again, you kissed his cheek.

Taking the edge of the mask again, you pulled it back down towards his neck and tucking it in. "I'll see you tomorrow." Your hands dropped from his face, and you walked past him into the door.

Hours have passed, sitting on your bed acting like a little schoolgirl, giggling and kicking your feet. Who wouldn't you just kissed spiderman!

Looking at the clock, it was near one am. Sleep was catching up. So, you started your normal night routine. Finding some old extra oversized t-shirt, you slipped it on, and it landed on your mid-thigh barley coving much. You had shorts on but night shorts that were very short.

As you were done in the bathroom, you walked back into your room and felt a cold breeze. Looking around, you saw your window was open. An overwhelming feeling flooded your body as you knew you had closed it earlier. Getting closer, you hear a noise out of the darkness. Spiderman sat up, holding his side. He didn't look good.

"Help me," his body collapsed halfway in your window. your heart sunk at seeing him like this. Running to him, you grabbed him the best you could and pulled him in.

"What did you get yourself into, bug boy?" he sat against your wall, one arm trying to hold himself up and the other holding his abdomen.

"It's not that bad, I-" he removed his hand to show you the deep cut. it ran from lower chest to the middle of his stomach, "Okay, maybe it's a little bad." Every word was broken up by him groaning or wheezing.

"I'll be back." Running out of your room, you grabbed the first aid kit in the hallway. "I don't have much, so we have to make this work."

Before you started to clean the cut, you looked at his face. The mask was beat up pretty bad. He had a tear in it, running from his ear to chin. After tonight, you don't think this suit would survive.

"Can you move?" Your voice was low. The last thing you need is your parents finding Spiderman in your room.

"I'll try," he tried to push himself up, his head spinning. Standing with him, you saw him stumble, catching him. You guided him to your bed. As soon as he sat down, the pain was too much to bear. His body went limp.

"Hey! bug boy! hey, can you hear me?" You sat next to him, patting his face over and over and hoping to wake him up. His eyes would open and close after a few seconds, "You got to stay with me!"

"I'm tired." he was barely auditable.

As you looked at him, an idea came to your mind, "I'm sorry," putting a hand over his mouth and taking your other hand, you pressed down on the cut. He yelled into your hand in pain, his eyes tearing up under the mask. 'fuck'

The most you could do right now is clean the wounds and patch him up. He was awake but laid there quietly. You were so focused on making sure the wounds were thoroughly cleaned that you didn't realize one of his hands laid on your thigh, gripping it every time you wiped the cuts.

"You're okay." You tried your best to comfort him, and not much could be said though truthfully.

Once you checked over his entire body for more wounds, you moved up to his face. the mask was resting weirdly, "I finished everything else, but if you don't want me to clean -" As you spoke, his hand that wasn't on your thigh reached for the mask ripping it off.

Your jaw dropped.

ETHAN FUCKING LANDRY.

YOUR BEST FRIEND.

"I-" before he could fully speak, you flung your body into his. He winced out in pain as he felt you on him, yet he felt better.

Your eyes were watering at this point, seeing Spiderman - no seeing Ethan like this ripped your heart apart. "I had my theories- but fuck bug boy why?!" you pulled away making eye contact. He could see the tear stains running down your rosy cheeks.

"Don't cry pretty, girl, please don't cry. I'm okay - kind of, " he chuckled, hoping it helped ease the tension. His hand cupped your face, his finger halfway in your hair, his thumb resting on your cheek moving side to side wiping the tears.

"You're an idiot you know that?" You hit his shoulder, pushing him back a little. He made a face like it hurt but only smiled. Looking at you through his lashes, blood sprayed on his face, scars you haven't seen before. His eyes softened as he saw your face red and stained, crying, pouting.

"I'm hoping to be your idiot though." his thumb still ran across your cheek, slowly moving down to trace your lips. He hasn't stopped thinking about kissing you. Even when he was dying, the need for you was strong.

He was just looking at your lips at this point. He looked at you like he was starving. The hunger for you grew stronger after that kiss. Noticing the change in how he looked at you, a laugh escaped you. "For almost dying, you sure are a teenage boy with your thoughts"

Your voice pulled him back, snapping his eyes up to yours he smiled. "That obvious?" Your hand had gone to his wrist rubbing circles into his skin as he did the same to your face.

Your head went forward, forehead to forehead. A sweet little moment between you two. "Don't die. I know what you do is dangerous, but I don't think I can handle seeing you crawl into my room like this again." he nodded his head, yours moving with his.

You felt far away from him too far, using what strength he had left he pulled you into his lap, straddling him, your breath hitched.

"I won't, I promise." his hand left your thigh holding out his pinky. It was cheeky, yes, but he would.

Both of your breaths were heavy, and the tension in the room was filled again. It's like he knew because he would lean in to ghost over your lips, yet pull away. 'asshole'

"Kiss me already," your voice was laced with annoyance.

Pulling you in from the back of your head, your lips crashed together, and it felt different. This kiss was hungry. It was needy. His hands went over the curves of your body, trailing under the t-shirt, gripping the back of your back, pulling you towards him if possible.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, the curls all broken apart, pulling it softly, earning a moan from him.

Your body was thinking faster than your mind, rocking back and forth on him. The feeling of his body tensing, pulling away to kiss your jaw, then your neck. Your head fell back, giving him more access. His lips were soft against your skin, his teeth grazing your skin as he left love bites, both of you, a moaning mess.

"Ethan" moaning out his name was something you both dreamed of "we- shouldn't- not- not now-" your words kept getting broken up from the feeling of him sucking your neck, and how his hands gripped your hips moving you more.

"Why?" he voice was muffled from being in your neck. He knew it wasn't the right time since he was so beaten up. His hands loosed up on your hips, and a whine could be heard from you. That didn't stop him from peppering your neck and face with kisses thought.

"Fine. We'll stop, but next time, I won't quit as easily. " he pulled his face out of your neck so he could look at you. Your face was red, with a smirk on it.

"Let's just lay here then," you crawled off of his lap. You laid down, following you, and he pulled you so close that you were basically on top of him again.

"I'm fine with that." he looked down, kissing the top of your head before sleep took over his body.

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell

A/N: the story inspired by a daydream, and the name by @hazelfoureyes (sorry not sorry for the tag :P), I cooked up another fic. sinners - enjoy. >:3 Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Tags/Warnings: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

The moment you open your eyes, you see red. red above you, red around you, red everywhere.

Are you dreaming..?

Your other senses begin returning to you, and you groan in pain. your entire body aches as you force yourself to stand up. where were you? you sure weren't dreaming, judging by your physical pain.

Wait a damn minute. your body changed. you can feel more muscles aching, in places where none have been before. testingly moving those muscles, you are taken aback. the position of your ears changed. and you even... have a tail?

Looking around, you seem to be in a city, glamoured by a red pentagram in the red sky. lights everywhere, a familiar tower in the distance, and you can even feel the bass from the music of the clubs that are all around. wait. your eyes shoot back, and you squint at the tower in the distance. are those three V's at the front..?

Wait.

You've seen that tower before.

In one of your favorite shows.

Hazbin Hotel.

As the realization hits you like a freight train, your blood runs cold. but with more excitement than dread. did you die and spawn in the Show??? was everyone from it gonna be here, alive (well - undead rather) and kicking?? when did you spawn here? before the extermination?? after?? who was gonna be there??

You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. but who did you want to find first? Valentino? Vox? Lucifer? Alastor? someone entirely different?

You do think about going to the Hotel first, but judging by where you've stranded, it would be a lot quicker to go take a look for the Vee's first. and knowing good ol' Alastor, you think with a scrunch to your face, he would likely snatch up your soul right away, should he find out you've only just gotten here.

Nah - no way you are risking that.

At least for now.

And so - you have a makeshift goal. doing your best to keep your excitement at bay as you begin walking towards the Tower, you think about what kind of excuse you'll make up to be able to even see one of the Vee's upclose, let alone get away without having to sign a contract in the end.

Offering them your soul? - immediate no. suggesting to work for them? - as bad as the first, so hard no.

Glancing in between buildings from time towards the Vee's Tower to make sure you're still on the right track, you furrow your brows in thought.

Hmm.. there has to be a way.

Coming to a stop infront of your destination before you could think of something, you feel your heart flutter against your chest. a rare occurance - but all the more fitting. looking up and along the tower to the three V signs, you give your braincells another kick. and suddenly - they kick back.

Information!

Yes! that's it, you can give all of them valuable information! and in return.. ohoho. so many things you could ask for. you are definitely gonna go see Vox first. you have so much to sell him, it's almost depressing. but Val..? you don't have very much that's of use to him. maybe you can somehow convince Vox to get you a... talk... with his fellow Vee. surpressing a smirk, you look forward again, internally preparing your introverted body and mind for the upcoming social interactions.

The doors glide open quietly, as expected, and you step in, immediately being hit by a wall of cool air from an air conditioner above. it's like entering a store, you think.

With a rather fast glance around, you're greeted with a Luxurious Lobby. snuggled into the far right corner, there's a reception, with a bored looking demon behind it. a camera is seated in the corner above it, with Vox's signature line on it. you can spot another one placed in the opposite corner as your eyes search around the ceiling corners.

Red Armchairs instead of regular Chairs are generously placed in the three leftover corners of the room and a few along the left wall too, low coffee tables in between. as your gaze rises along the wall, you see lots of Voxtek advertisements as well as a few screens that almost lazily switch between even more ads. you can't help but take a step closer, your eyes flitting over each and every one of them with barely held back interest, trying to take it all in at once.

Until the sound of someone clearing their throat brings you back to where you were. oops. you turn your head to where it came from, and you see the receptionist almost glare at you over their glasses. you can't tell their gender at first glance - and you aren't gonna assume it.

So you walk over to them, your eyes somewhere near their face, but not actively looking into it, you're still exploring your surroundings a little. you start speaking, insecure from the moment they laid eyes on you. "uh, hello.. I'm uhm.. here to see.." what should you call him? best to go with the most polite one you can think of. "Mr Vox." taking a deep breath, you fiddle your hands together while you continue. "I have information for him that he's.. gonna want to hear."

The Receptionist raises an eyebrow at you, but before they can respond, you hear a noise that reminds you of electric current, and you feel a cool hand on your shoulder, sharp claws firmly placed on your thin clothing, but they aren't piercing through. and before you can process everything, you hear a very familiar voice speak. you gulp.

"Information, you say? sounds like something we should discuss in my office, privately."

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist ─❲♡❳▷Main List

[alexusonfire]

Screams, Stubborness, and Neve Campbell

Larissa Weems x Reader

Spooktober Prompt: Horror Movies

A/n: Week three of Spooktober with @daydream-cement! Prompt is Horror Movies, theme is a Very Stubborn Larissa 😉

You can find Daydream's fic here!

"You've never seen the Scream series?"

Larissa rolls her eyes and huffs at your dramatic tone, her laptop sounding a small pop as it closes in front of her.

"Honestly darling, I've never been one for horrors, they're just so... predictable." Larissa says with a dismissive wave of her hand. You note that although she's trying to come off as passive, bored even, her body has stiffened and she refuses to make eye contact. You smirk and turn towards her when she sits next to you by the fire, her eyebrow raising at your curled lip.

"Oh really? Jump scares don't rattle your bones?" you respond, exaggerating your voice to a ghostly tone whilst wiggling your fingers at her. Again, a roll of the eyes, a huff of breath, only this time she crosses her arms defensively in front of her.

"The only thing that seems to be "rattling my bones" tonight is you."

You feign hurt, your lower lip jutting out in a most pathetic pout. Larissa tuts, then raises herself to pour a generous glass of wine, grabbing you a beer as well. When she settles back down with you you decide to challenge her, knowing how she enjoys being pushed every now and then.

"Well if you're so unaffected by them, why don't we watch one? They're good movies regardless, and Neve Campbell is a total babe."

"Courtney Cox was always more my flavor." Larissa hums, taking a sip of her wine.

She still has yet to meet your eyes.

"Scream it is."

The first movie is managable (for Larissa anyways). She jumps every so often, but plays it off, blaming the music and the fact that she "just wasn't paying attention." You haven't missed how she's burrowed further into you, or how wide her eyes get when the movie goes silent, anticipation building for the next scare.

The credits play, and you wiggle your eyebrows at Larissa as you hover over the second installment of the series. Her shoulders are tighter now, but she still wears the same haughty look as before and simply nods her head.

During the first movie, Larissa was quick to make comments about how "absurd" the characters were for their actions, such as not turning on the lights, or calling out into a dark room in hopes for an answer.

"Yes, the killer is just going to out themselves and their location because you so bravely told them to do so. Ridiculous."

During the second, she was quieter, not as quick to quip, and her fingers now clung to the blanket you'd spread over your intertwined legs. The silence rang through the apartment, not even a low, ominous tone to signify what might be coming. Neve Campbell rounds a corner, peers into a dark room and-

Larissa screams, a real scream, jarring her whole body into you as she brings the blanket up to her nose. You can't help the laughter bubbling out of you, only silenced by the piercing glare Larissa shoots your way.

"Alright fine, I'm scared! I don't like scary movies because they're scary." Larissa whines, turning her head from the television to bury it into your neck. She huffs and whines when you chuckle, and though you can't see it you know she's still glaring.

"It's alright baby, I'll protect you." you whisper into her ear, pulling her close. You click the tv off before yet another jump scare can frighten her, and simply wrap Larissa in your arms to place tender kisses on her forehead and cheeks.

"You'd think dealing with teenagers day in and out I'd be invincible..." Larissa grumbled, her pout very real and very exaggerated.

"Agreed, serial killers have nothing on teenagers." you respond, pleased when Larissa laughs and the tension in her body lessens.

"Could we perhaps watch something a little more palatable?" Larissa asks, her voice low. You nod and pick the remote back up, scrolling Netflix until she lets out a pleased hum at Hocus Pocus.

"Thank you darling."

You kiss her properly this time, letting the opening scene drown out in front of you.

"You're welcome, my love."

--

@weemssapphic @h-doodles @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @renravens @ness029 @oddball21 @saturnnnnl @aemilia19 @milciak

[lov3m3darling]

Apple of my Eye (Obsessed!Wally Darling x Short!Reader) Pt. 2

Heyyy 😊 So I'm really glad a lot of you seem to like what I'm doing here. You're all very kind ❤️

I woke up feeling pretty good today so I figured I'd be at least a little productive and write another part ✨️ How long should this be?? I'm totally down to make this a long fic if ya'll would like that. I would still write oneshots and headcannons in between chapters of course 🤗

Idk, lemme know

!!!(TW: obsessive behaviors, eye imagery, slight blood/injury, mention of a kn*fe)!!!

💙��💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Wally spent that evening thinking of nothing but you.

Your smile, your eyes, your laugh...

It was like his world finally had color again. He imagined the date vividly...bringing you flowers when he arrived at your door, showing you around town while you held his arm, picking a nice grassy spot in the shade for your picnic.

Would you dress up just for him? Would he hear your charming laugh when he made jokes? Could he...kiss you?

Wally covered his blushing face at the idea, and Home rolled their eyes, creaking mockingly.

Wally sat up from where he was laying across his chair.

"You don't understand, Home! (Y/n) is...they're so..."

He tried to describe you, but could only manage a happy, dreamy sigh. Suddenly, he heard a record player start up.

A love song.

"HOME!!" Wally exclaimed, his face now entirely red. Home knocked quietly, almost like a sly snicker. Wally sighed again.

"Oh, but...I could just imagine asking them to dance with me to a song like this. Wouldn't they look divine? ...Home, what on earth is wrong with me?"

The music stopped, and Home creaked.

"Lovesick? What are you talking about? I'm not sick, I feel fit as a fritter!"

Home's eyes rolled yet again, and the front door swung open with a squeak.

"You're right. Frank can explain it to me, I'm sure. He's very smart!"

With that, Wally set out towards Frank's house.

Meanwhile, you were in your own house, fussing over your clothing options. Clothes were strewn across your otherwise tidy bedroom as you dug through your closet and rejected nearly every article of clothing you owned.

But then, hanging at the very back, you spotted the miracle you were hoping for!

---------------------------------------------

(Option 1: a multicolored striped blazer and pants combo with a white dress shirt underneath and some red sneakers to keep it from being TOO dressy!)

(Option 2: a white, knee-length dress with multicolored polka-dots and a pair of red ballet flats. and for a cute little accessory, some red apple earrings!)

(...orrrrr any combo of the two! Up to you! Doesn't really matter, I just wanted to give some visuals here. Reminder: ya dress like a cartoon character because ya ARE one!)

---------------------------------------------

Oh, it was perfect! You'd been saving this outfit for a special occasion, and if a date wasn't the perfect situation, you didn't know what was!

You carefully hung it up for tomorrow, then made your way to the kitchen to pack the picnic basket.

As you sliced up an apple, you couldn't help but think about Wally. You'd only just met him that morning, and yet you already had a massive crush on the guy.

But who could blame you? There was just something so charming about him. And strangely suave, too. He seemed like the type of guy to bring you flowers and kiss your hand...a gentleman.

"Ow! Oh dear.."

Maybe cutting an apple wasn't the best time to be daydreaming...

"Tsk..."

You sighed, setting the knife down to go grab a bandage for the small cut on your finger.

But suddenly, there was a panicked knock on your door.

"Who in the world..?"

You settled for wrapping your finger in a tissue, and went to answer the door.

Wally stood, wide-eyed, on your stoop. He seemed worried.

"(Y-Y/n) I was walking by and heard you yelp!"

Your face felt a little hot. You didn't realize you'd been so loud...

"Oh, I'm sorry to worry you but I'm alright. I was slicing an apple for our picnic and...well...I suppose my mind was somewhere else. And silly me, I cut my finger a little..."

Wally's eyes shifted past you and looked at the knife on the counter, and his pupils grew and shrank again in a matter of just a second. You barely noticed.

"Thank goodness, I thought something terrible had happened. I don't know what I'd do if-...ah, would you like me to help you? I have bandages at Home.."

You were about to decline, when you realized something. You didn't have any of that stuff! You'd only just moved, after all.

So, you had to agree and let Wally lead you to his house.

Home's eyes fixed on you when they spotted you approaching with Wally. The door opened, but the squeak it made sounded like a question.

"(Y/n) is coming in for a moment so I can tend to the cut on their finger, if that's alright"

Home said nothing else, but the door remained open, so Wally nodded and brought you inside.

He had you sit on the couch while he retrieved a box of bandages and a cotton ball soaked in something that smelled like a hospital.

Carefully, he removed and threw away the tissue you'd wrapped around it, and looked it over. A tiny drop of blood trickled out and you winced, feeling like a little kid with a scraped knee again.

But Wally just smiled and brought your hand to his lips, gently licking away the drop as he gazed up at you lovingly. His pupils grew just a little, and you felt as if you would combust at any moment.

Wally chuckled and cleaned the cut with the cotton ball before wrapping a blue bandage around your finger and giving it a kiss.

"You've turned red, (y/n). Feeling alright~?"

"I-I don't...w-why did you...?"

He laughed.

"You're so silly, (y/n). It had to be wiped away, what was I supposed to do?"

You couldn't answer him. Your face was entirely too flushed and any nervous jumble of words your brain could think up just wouldn't come out no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, I know! I'll sign your bandage. People do that with casts, I think! Barnaby says it helps the person feel better faster"

Suddenly, he was back to normal. Acting just as he did when you first met him.

Wally left the room for a moment and returned with a red crayon. He took your hand and gently wrote his name and a smiley face on the bandage before helping you up from the couch. He smiled at you.

"How's that? Does it feel better?"

"M-Much better. Thank you, Wally.."

You excused yourself so you could continue to get ready for tomorrow, and left, waving to Home as you went.

You shut the door to your own house and slid down it, finally being able to breathe and think.

What WAS that?! He licked your cut! Why?!

After a few deep breaths, you collected yourself and stood up, returning to the kitchen. You went to pick the knife back up, only to realize the blade had snapped off of the handle and was in several pieces...

"How did that happen..?" you wondered aloud. For some reason, looking at it gave you a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach and you hastily threw it away.

As you did, you glanced at the bandage on your finger again. You weren't sure where the thought came from, but his name written on it almost felt like a claim over you more than a nice gesture.

And...why were you strangely okay with that...?

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Too much? 😅 That was a little intense, I know. But I promised yandere, and I keep my promises. Of course it's never gonna be a downright lemon 🍋 🚫 but who says it cant be just a liiiiiittle spicy? Just a dash of pepper, am I right?

Anyways, hope this was good 😊 more to come!

[blackreaderfics]

Hygge | Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Pairing : Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Rating :  T

↳ Summary : Nanami breaks his well cultivated routine 

↳ W.C : 4.4k

↳ A/N: the voices in my head got me y’all… this is a purely self indulgent fic featuring relatable king Nanami (I, too, do not dream of labor✊🏾) and black girlbossqueen Tiana

↳ Tags + Warnings: xenophobia from a side character, fluff, set in Tokyo, next door neighbors, cultural differences, salaryman x cafe owner, they can speak each other’s languages but not fluently

🎵 A Commuter’s Trip (The Commuter OST) by Roque Baños

🎵 Hello Stranger by KAI

Hygge (n.) | Danish

“the feeling of calm, comfort, and contentment evoked by life’s simple joys”

Nanami had a simple routine. Wake up at 6, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast by 7:45 and be out of the door—at the latest—a minute before 8. He had everything calculated to the T. If Nanami had been a minute too late—let’s say 8:01— he would miss the morning train and therefore be late for work, and he was never late. He had taken into account all contingencies i.e. a train delay, traffic, inclement weather, and made sure he was prepared for any and all possibilities.

That’s why, much to his chagrin, he was “Employee of the Month” every month since he had been promoted from associate to advisor. Most workers would’ve taken pride in that, felt their presence valued at their company. But Nanami didn’t care much for awards or titles, in fact, he just hated working period. He made sure to always clock out at 6 p.m. on the dot. One minute more would be overtime and he didn’t want to give his thankless job a second more of his labor. 

When he left work, he always went straight home. When his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, thoughts about the next day would drift into his mind. 

Did the market close up or down? What reports did he need to finish? There’s a client meeting coming up; the presentation deck needs to be prepared… Just two more days. Get through two more days and it’s the weekend. 

And so on and so on. Wash rinse repeat. 

He presumed this endless cycle of corporate monotony would continue until the day he turned 40, after which he could retire and live modestly in a country like Malaysia or the Philippines to catch up on all the reading he missed. Perhaps even find a nice woman and marry her while he was there.

The marriage part was new—an afterthought after years of daydreaming—and he didn’t really think much about the kind of woman he wanted to marry. What she looked like or what she did was more of an amorphous thought, a vague idea in his mind. 

Until her.

He met her by accident. Nanami had been cooking, a hobby he only indulged in on the weekends, and he was just in the middle of making a rolled omelet when he heard a loud thump outside his door.

His apartment building was more of an office building which meant that his floor didn’t get much traffic. The people who rented rooms were not really tenants who lived there, but workers looking for an extra workspace.  He had assumed the thump to be a delivery man outside his door so, naturally, he was surprised when it wasn’t the post, but a foreigner woman standing outside the room next door.

The woman had a heavy bag of groceries balanced in the crook of her arm and another by her feet that he presumed had been the source of the sound. When they made eye contact, he had been so startled that he quickly closed his door. The apartment next to his had been empty for months, but it looked like it had finally been rented out. 

He thought nothing more of it until her very presence began to infiltrate his well-maintained routine. Every morning, if he was quiet enough, he could faintly hear her humming as he got dressed. Other times, he could hear upbeat jazzy music on the weekends if he opened his window.

Every night, he was surrounded by the fragrance of whatever she seemed to be cooking. Most of the time it was sweet, other times it was savory. It wasn’t an unpleasant aroma, just noticeable to the point where its absence would feel strange. There were days when they would leave for work at the same time, though oftentimes he would end up holding the elevator door open for her when she left her apartment a few minutes after he did. 

In the brief moments they encountered, Nanami made small observations about her: She was an American. Beautiful. Unmarried—Americans wore rings on their ring finger to signify marital status, he’d noticed she didn’t.

He couldn’t infer her job or what exactly brought her to Tokyo in the first place from her appearance alone, however. He’d seen a fair amount of young foreign teachers in the city. He wondered if she was a teacher. She looked young enough. A missionary? She dressed modestly and wore sensible shoes. Her curly hair was often tied into a low bun. From the very slim list of what young American women did for work in Tokyo, he decided on teacher and his curiosity was sated. 

One day he found out. After a long day of work, he walked his usual route from the train station back to his apartment building but was redirected due to construction at his usual subway exit. When he alighted from the escalator he was on a different street entirely. The extra few minutes from this detour would undoubtedly cut into the time he’d set aside to unwind, and subsequently, he’d have to make a few adjustments to still get a full 8 hours of sleep.

He loosened his tie and sighed inwardly as he walked on. Since he’d moved to this district last year he didn’t make much effort to visit any new places. For all he was concerned, he only really needed to know his route to work and the nearest Starbucks. 

So when he passed by a small cafe called “Tiana’s Place”, it didn’t immediately click that the jazz he’d heard playing softly from her apartment was the same music that was playing now. It was familiar enough that it gave him pause. Where had he heard that song before? When he finally caught sight of her—his neighbor— through the glass window, it finally registered that she wasn’t a teacher or a missionary, but a cafe worker, and from the looks of it, she owned the place. 

He watched her dimples deepen as she interacted with customers, giving each and every one of them a tireless smile. Before he knew it, Nanami found himself inside the cafe whisked into the after-work rush of impatient office workers. She was so busy already, the only indication of strain being a moment when she blew the hair out of her face before the next customer walked up to order. He planned to buy something small and leave; he wanted to give her time to catch her breath but inadvertently in his musings he was already holding up the line. 

She was…right in front of him? And speaking to him now? It was the first time he’d heard her voice and he decided it suited her. She spoke in Japanese and, though accented, was clear and practiced enough in a way that impressed him.

“Are you still deciding, sir?” Impossibly large brown eyes waited in expectation for him to order.

He broke out of his reverie quickly enough to make it seem like his stalling was deliberate, his unmarred poker face further upholding the charade.

He scanned the prepackaged foods and retrieved the first thing that looked like bread. “Just this.” 

“Good choice,” She looked positively elated as she scanned the barcode and activated the card machine. “Beignets are my specialty.” She was beaming at him. Not in a “thank you come again” customer way but like in a he’d just made her entire week way. She was so laughably easy to please that it discomfited him.

He muttered a “thank you”, taking the package and turning to leave quickly before he met her eyes again. The Fall of Icarus was a cautionary tale for a reason, he wouldn’t risk another trip into the sun.

Nanami’s routine had drastically altered over the next few weeks. Every morning he’d gotten used to riding down the elevator with her. They greeted each other regularly, albeit a bit awkwardly, in the shared space—A slight bow from him as he held the doors open, reciprocated by a grateful wave from her.

The last time they shared an elevator, however, they'd accidentally brushed hands while reaching for the ground floor button. For some reason, that unnerved Nanami. So now, most times, he avoided that, opting to wait and listen to the click of her door before he left the house. For good measure, he started taking the stairs. As a result, Nanami had added an extra 10 minutes to his morning commute.

The detour, having yet to be fixed, took him past the café every day. Though Nanami knew the process of waiting in line would add an extra 15 minutes to his after-work trek, he did so anyway, calculating that picking up a quick dinner bento would be a fair trade to taking the time to cook something for himself. 

“What can I get for you today, sir?”  

He knew her name now—Tiana, from the name tag she wore, and the sign on the storefront. He noticed from the way her eyes would widen as he approached, that she recognized him now too.

“Black tea. No sugar, please.” He placed his usual prepackaged meal and packet of beignets on the counter, taking out his wallet. Nanami didn’t always plan to add beignets to every order, but he found himself reaching for them every time, dreading her predictable delight when he did. Ordering tea was another stroke of impulse he didn’t account for, but it wasn’t so busy now, he could enjoy it before he went home.

He decided on a table by the window, savoring the warm liquid as the sun set to a melancholy soundtrack of brass and bass. It was like being transported to another time, outside of crowded subway cars and the hustle of his high-powered office.

Nanami closed his eyes and felt something akin to contentment. When he exhaled, the stiffness in his shoulders abated, and the strain behind his eyes subsided. Was this what it was like to finally relax? 

He was about to take another sip of his drink when he heard a loud bang. The front door to the restaurant had flown open, a bulky man with greasy hair and a lecherous smile stalking in. Nanami’s eyes trailed after the man’s movements, the cup still raised to his lip.

“I’d like a dozen of those powdered donut things. Ya got any of those?” The man leered at the part-timer manning the counter. He sauntered back and forth at the register, eying the self-serve pastries in the display. 

“Sure, would you like them fresh? There aren’t enough ready-made ones for a dozen, but if you’re willing to wait there’s a new batch being made—” 

The man picked up a package of beignets that had been warming under a heated case and without warning, ripped open the package and took a bite.

“S-sir! You need to pay for that first!” The part-timer sputtered.

“Well, I’m waitin’ for that new batch. I wanna try before I buy.” The delinquent guffawed and attempted another gleeful bite only for the pastry to be smacked out of his hand and onto the floor.

He whirled around to face Tiana, bursting into laughter upon seeing her. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

“Call the police,” Tiana stated calmly to her employee as she stared down the man. Her usual polite smile had been replaced with a stony-faced expression. “Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything then it’s best you leave.”

“Huh? What was that? I can barely understand you, foreign bit-AHh” A pressure on the man’s shoulder made him crumple in pain.

“Your ears must not be working. I can understand her perfectly well,” Nanami murmured, his vice-like grip squeezing at the juncture between the man’s neck and shoulder. While the delinquent whimpered pathetically at the deepening pressure, Nanami directed his attention to Tiana, motioning with a slight tilt of his head for her to step away. “It’s not worth your trouble, I’ll take care of it.” 

She nodded reluctantly and joined her staff member who was now waiting with a phone at her ear behind the counter.

Nanami appeared to be saying something to the man now, but in a volume that Tiana couldn’t hear. His face was calm, betraying no emotion while the delinquent paled gradually in terror, trembling under his grip. The moment Nanami released him, the man scrambled out of his grasp and prostrated himself on all fours.

“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I PROMISE I WON’T DO IT AGAIN PLEASE—” He shouted hysterically and proceeded to do a fervent bow of penitence. 

Tiana looked at Nanami quizzically but was only met with a mild shrug. 

“Alright alright,” she stepped around the counter to placate him. If he could just stop snotting up the floor she just mopped and get out of there, they could just forget this all happened.

The tinkling bell sound of the cafe door opening interrupted the scene; everyone’s attention shifted from the blubbering man on the floor to the police officer who had just stepped in. 

Before anyone could speak, the man sprang up from the ground and ran toward the policeman. “OFFICER! IT'S ALL MY FAULT I ADMIT IT! ARREST ME, PLEASE! JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Within 10 minutes the offender was cuffed—willingly, to the cop’s surprise— and whisked noisily out of the cafe just as quickly as he’d burst in. Nanami, suddenly uninterested in the commotion, walked calmly back to his table and gathered his things. 

Tiana made her way over to Nanami, eyeing the man through the window. He was currently being escorted to a police car on the curb. Still in hysterics, he’d practically thrown himself into the back of the car.

“Ok…what on earth did you say to that man?” She quirked an eyebrow at the blonde businessman.

That this cafe is his one and only oasis in the heaping pile of shit called life, and if even so much as one insignificant waste of air like him tries to ruin it he’ll have no choice but to chop his fingers off one by one and shove them down his throat so hard he’ll be shitting fingernails for weeks…among other things.

It would’ve been improper to divulge this to Tiana, of course.

“I asked him to apologize,” he said instead in simple English, a far cry from the eloquently horrific threats he’d made in his native language. 

“Really?” She asked, accepting the sudden change of language in stride. Her arms were crossed, her hip jutted to the side, face incredulous. “Just like that?”

“I’m rather persuasive.”

After a beat she laughed. 

Nanami didn’t consider himself a funny person. And frankly, he didn’t understand why she was laughing now but he welcomed it, if only to see that the earlier disturbance hadn’t caused her too much distress.

“Well, thank you kindly,” she drawled in between giggles, her southern accent now unmistakable when she switched to English. “Mister…” 

“Kento.” He offered his first name, aware he was skipping over several customary stages of familiarity. In any other case, anyone less than an acquaintance addressing him by his first name would be extremely frowned upon. But it was common business practice to use given names when dealing with American clients; he thought it fitting to do the same with her.

He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a silver business card holder, and passed over an impressive looking card: 

Nanami Kento, Investment Advisor

“If there are any similar issues please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He repeated an English phrase that had come in handy from past business dealings.

“Mr. Kento,” she repeated to herself with finality studying the card. Tiana faintly wondered why a guy with a fancy title—and the most expensive suits she’d ever laid eyes on— lived in the modest one-room apartment right next to hers. She pocketed the card and patted around for her own business card. 

“I would’ve given you my own card too. But if you ever need to contact me—”

“Boss!” Her part-timer called out, waving her over from where she stood next to a police officer holding a clipboard.

“I’d better go, you know where to find me.” She excused herself with an apologetic smile.

Unfortunately for Nanami, this little ordeal had cost him another hour of wasted time.

The next day Nanami waited for the familiar click of her door shutting before starting his commute. When he exited his apartment, he could still see the silhouette of her back walking towards the elevator bank. 

She left without an umbrella, he noted to himself as he walked part of the way down the hallway. He imagined walking up to her and bringing it up casually as they waited for the elevator. But as soon as she’d turned his direction he changed course abruptly, legs moving on their own through the emergency exit and down the stairs.

Work went on as usual. He sat at his desk going over the pitch deck, but his eyes could not seem to follow the text. Instead, he found himself gazing out the window, watching the clouds slowly darken in the horizon. 

“Fucking weather, right? News said it’s gonna rain like a bitch the next few days.”

His boss had walked up behind him, crouching at his eye level to see what Nanami was looking at. 

“Hope you brought your galoshes, rookie, we’re going overtime today for that big client meeting. Dinner’s on me.” His boss clapped a hand on his shoulder and went off to bother a different team.

He tried to return his attention to his work, but he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the blue light of his computer screen. All he could think about was the rain.

Tiana had hoped that by the time she closed, the rain would’ve stopped. But she found herself outside the doors of the cafe, reluctant to leave. The rain hadn’t let up, and it didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon.

It was a day of disappointments. On top of forgetting her umbrella, Nanami hadn’t come into the shop that day. She’d gotten used to seeing him enter the store at the same time every day, and perhaps even looked forward to it. 

She took one tentative step outside, shivering through the draft of wind. She didn’t live far, maybe it would be alright if she just ran home with a plastic bag over her head. Tiana locked the door behind her and raised the collar of her jacket, clasping it with her hand to protect her neck. On the count of three, she lifted the plastic takeout bag over her head and took the plunge.

After a few strides in the pelting rain, it suddenly stopped—She had run into something or someone. The rain made it difficult to see where she was going so she blindly sputtered a reflexive “I’m so sorry!” in English at whoever it was that she had run into.

When she wiped the rain out of her eyes she could see nothing but an impeccably tailored pinstripe suit in the dim of the streetlights. It was Nanami and he was holding an umbrella over her head. His collar was unbuttoned without a tie, and he looked utterly exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced from where she stood underneath him.

“Mr. Kento? Are you alright? What are you—”

“I figured you could use an umbrella,” he said dryly and pretty pointedly at her makeshift plastic bag hat.

“Yea, I guess I could use one of those,” she laughed breathlessly and took the bag off her head, before giving him one of those heart-stopping smiles he loathed. “You saved my life.*”

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, amused. Perhaps because her choice of words sounded highly literal, almost…cute?, in Japanese. He “saved her life” just by sharing his umbrella? Americans were known to have a penchant for the dramatic. But he didn’t bother to correct her, instead, he only hummed somewhat of an affirmative response.

They walked in a comfortable silence down a familiar tree-lined path leading to their apartment building. She noticed Nanami’s shoulder getting wet, and leaned closer to him. 

Feeling the imperceptible shift, he gave the woman beside him a sidelong glance. His eyes settled on the loose wisp of hair he’d always seen her blowing out of her face.

It bothered him.

Maybe it was the fatigue-driven delirium, but he was struck with the inane compulsion to brush that lock out of her eyes. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the umbrella currently occupying his hand, otherwise, he would’ve indulged it.

Tiana reached over and gently adjusted the umbrella closer over his side. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that nice suit of yours,” she said softly.

“I hate this suit.” The curt statement came off a bit more brusque than he’d initially intended, though, it was true. He hated that suit and everything it represented.

She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was another aspect of his humor. But from what she could see on his countenance, he was entirely serious. 

He glanced at her again, catching the confused look on her face. “I don’t mind if it gets wet,” he reiterated this time with the intended lack of severity, along with a kind of finality that implied an end to the discussion of his suit and his decision to prioritize her dryness. They continued the rest of the way, the umbrella above them biased towards her side.

When they got to the apartment he held the building door open, letting her walk through first. 

“Thank you again for yesterday. That man, he was—” she paused to conjure the correct word.

“He was being a nuisance,” he completed, pushing the button for the elevator door. Naturally, he had chosen the same number for their floors, and when they arrived at their floor he waited for her to alight before walking after her.

When they finally reached their neighboring doors, he set his umbrella on the hallway floor for it to dry and began to punch in the code for his door. 

“Mr. Kento, wait a moment.”

He stilled his movement and watched as she rummaged into her purse. 

Tiana pulled out a paper box from her bag and presented it to him, “I was going to give these to you earlier if you came in. Glad they didn’t get wet.”

It was a small gesture. Even so, he was reluctant to take it.

“You… didn’t have to,” he frowned, eyeing the box.

“You didn’t have to walk me home, either,” she shrugged. 

“We’re neighbors. We were going in the same direction,” he said plainly, though, he didn’t entirely believe the words as they left his mouth either. It was unlike him to go anywhere else except straight home after working overtime. He hadn’t run into her by some coincidence or divine guidance. He’d gone there on purpose, and he had a sinking feeling she figured that out already too.

“Then just think of it as a ‘thank you gift’,” she insisted, tugging gently at his wrist and nudging the box softly into his hands. “For being my favorite customer.”

He shifted uncomfortably to receive the box with both hands. It was an unfamiliar concept for him to be anyone’s favorite anything.

“Good night, Mr. Kento.” Tiana’s voice had an amused lilt to it. Nanami must’ve stood there frozen because she was already halfway through her door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He regained his composure and mumbled back a formal “Good night, Miss. Tiana,” —her name a bit alien on his tongue—before retreating back inside.

When the door shut behind him, he immediately shed his suit jacket. His body was much too warm despite one side being wet; his collar much too tight, despite his lack of tie.

Nanami stared at the assortment of pastries that Tiana had given to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he willingly ate dessert though he assumed if he had, it would’ve probably been with Gojo and his infantile palate.

Truthfully, Nanami didn’t really like sweets at all. The first time he bought those beignets, he’d just picked up the first thing in line that day and just…never stopped buying it. Over the past weeks, he’d amassed a bevy of unopened bags of the foreign confection and they were occupying the much-needed counter space of his kitchen. 

It was rather ironic for an investment advisor to be so frivolous with his money. Spending on foods he didn’t even eat when was supposed to be saving it didn’t make any sort of financial sense. He had been planning to retire by 40, and now he’d have to add an extra 5 years to his projections over mere fried dough.

Nanami turned over the yellow business card for “Tiana’s Place” that he had found wedged in the box. A simple “Bon Appétit ;) -T.” was written on the back.

He picked up a beignet from the box and took a bite—It was made for him, after all. He chewed it slowly, the consistency not too far off from that of a baguette. It wasn’t too sweet, either. In fact, it was…delicious? Better than any dessert he’s had before. Maybe everything he’d tried before this was just a crude imitation, a poor excuse for the craft of baking. 

Perhaps he did like sweets or even dessert right before bed. Maybe he didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t be getting his full 8 hours of sleep. If he concentrated hard enough, her faint humming as she got ready for bed filled the silence of his apartment. He could stay up even longer if at all possible.

When he finally closed his eyes, a rush of different kinds of thoughts flooded his mind. 

Some were more mundane: Maybe I’ll have a beignet for breakfast or It’s probably going to rain tomorrow. 

Some were imaginations: plump glossy lips curved in an oversweet smile meant solely for him. His fingers gently tucking that bothersome tendril of hair behind her ear. 

He finally drifted to sleep with one last thought just as simple as the others, a tiny hope that she would forget her umbrella again.

*A/N: Tiana’s words sound like a literal translation/unnatural because she’s a non-native speaker ex. “you saved my life” vs a more natural/colloquial “you’re a lifesaver”

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

[yanderegrizzsworld]

What about a romantic hc for Shadow with the reader who was Maria’s older sister?? I feel like they’d connect so well 🖤❤️ thankssss

Imagine: Romantic Yandere Shadow the Hedgehog where the reader is Maria's older sibling

TW/CW: Implied violence, stalking, unresolved trauma & mild spoilers for Sonic Heroes

A.N: Turned out much more angsty that I thought (Quite exciting as I've never written a full angsty fic/headcanon before!)

If his protectiveness wasn't high normally, then it undeniably skyrockets here. Losing the most important person in his life crushed any hope of fulfilling their dreams together of living on Earth & while seeing you alive & well regains some of Shadow's lost hope, it'd actuate his need to protect you from harm.

Even when on a personal mission to regain his memories & question whether he's a clone or not, his need to see you face to face & ensure not a single scratch is on you follows him. Where in any other situation this need was for someone else, Shadow would scoff in annoyance & get passive-aggressive with the individual of which he believes is "distracting him from his mission" but with you, it's not annoying, it's not burdensome, he needs to make sure what happened in the Ark with the military doesn't happen to you!

This feeling, this need to be your protector, to be the person you run to whenever you feel your safety is on the line, it practically consumes him, but not in a way where he feels he's suffering because of it, it's more so where he desires to see you smile at, what to everyone else is nothing but part of their mundane life, anything that catches your eye. Even if it feels almost suffocating, he'd much rather suffer through it for you than anyone else, others being unworthy in his eyes.

How could he ever find it burdensome? Find you burdensome? You're all he has left! Yes, it might bring up horrific memories he'd rather massacre to where not even an atom of them exist, but you also remind him of the pleasant times up in the Ark, up with Maria. Times where you three spent hours upon hours talking about everything & nothing at the same time, hours daydreaming about what you'll do if or when you get to Earth, all the sights you'll see & all the people you'll meet. He'd rather lose all his memories again than ever think of you being burdensome.

Shadow is respectful if you wish to walk about alone, yet he can't cease the fear of someone or something stronger than you or him snatching you away & so, he lurks in the shadows. Anything he considers a threat to you provokes memories to sickeningly play in his mind like a horror movie, witnessing Maria dying & screams twirling around him like broken music box, he reacts without a plan or thought.

Dragging the individual in the darkness when you're not looking, The ultimate life form would be more than glad to exhibit why he's humanity's protector, but also it's greatest danger. Usually after events like these, the recollection of the Ark always leads to him finding you, simply for comfort. He's aware, very aware how much of a danger he can & does pose to humanity, that weight & knowledge of knowing never fails to make him like he's been stabbed deeply yet bleeding internally. He wishes for the warmth of your embrace, he needs reassurance that, while aware it really isn't, Maria's demise wasn't his fault. He might've failed to save Maria, but he vows to protect you, even if it kills him as if that'll happen.

[stars-and-birds]

Happy new year guys have a self indulgent wenclair fic i wrote instead of sleeping :D

“Tonight’s the night.” Enid declared, slamming down her red plastic cup next to the table where Yoko sat, some odd mixture of orange juice and vodka sloshing at the impact. Yoko looked up, flashing lights dancing across her pale face and dark eyes.

“Tonight’s the night… you what?” She asked, twisting around in her chair to face a confident and possibly slightly drunk Enid.

“The night I tell her. Wednesday” She replied breezily, plopping down into the chair next to Yoko. It was New Year’s eve, and Xavier Thorpe was throwing a huge party at his house. Well, ‘house’ was a stretch. More like a mansion. Enid had gotten lost at least five times (and stumbled upon three couples making out) on her way to the main room, where a disco ball flashed almost as loudly as the blasting music. Alcohol and drunk teenagers splashed across the room, dancing and cheering. Half of Nevermore had to be there.

“I’ll take her aside and confess. I’m telling her I like her.” Enid said confidently. She’d played the scenario over and over in her head, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had seared itself onto her brain. For months now she’d been worrying, trying to find some way to tell Wednesday she had feelings for her. Two very different possibilities played like a broken record in her brain, looping over and over. Number one, Wednesday harshly rejects her with a cold glare and their friendship breaks apart, Enid moves in with Yoko, and they never talk to or see each other ever again. This was bad. Worst case scenario. Scenario two, and the unfortunately less likely one, however… included holding hands, dates, kisses…

“Earth to Enid. Testing testing one two three.” Yoko said, snapping Enid out of a daydream that had spread a huge smile on her face.

“What?”

“Can I tell you what I think will happen?” Yoko asked, snatching up Enid’s drink like a cat and taking a sip.

“What?” Enid said again, somewhat irritated.

“You’ll work up some nerve and then chicken out like a little bitch. Like at the Christmas party. Or the Halloween one. Or even— ”

“Yeah okay I get it.” Enid interrupted. “But this time will be different! New year, new me.”

“Technically it’s not the new year yet.” Yoko pointed out as her girlfriend, Divina, stumbled up and sat next to Yoko too, leaning her head on her shoulder. Enid rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Oh, there she is!” She said excitedly, spotting Wednesday’s goth aesthetic sticking out like a sore thumb. Her signature braids hung behind her head, nearly blending into her midnight black dress that spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall. The light caught her face for a second, flashing her black eyes so bright Enid could see it from across the room. Enid’s heart beat a little faster.

I’msogayi’msogayi’msogay

Enid took a deep breath, smoothing the colorful jumpsuit that she had slipped into for the night.

“WEDNESDAY HI!!!!” Enid yelled, making her way through the crowd and raising her voice over the music rattling her feet. Wednesday turned to face her, her face softening a little at the sight of Enid wiggling her way through the horde of sweat and vodka breath.

“OMG you look great!” Enid squealed, clasping her hands together as she finally reached Wednesday and Thing, perched like a bird on her shoulder, signing hello at Enid.

“You look…” Wednesday glanced Enid up and down like a cat stalking her prey, silently judging. “Revolting.”

“Thanks… I guess.” Enid gulped a little, a lump of nerves sliding down her throat.  

Okay Sinclair. Stay cool. Just act normal.

“SO! Wednesday, I wanted to talk to you.” Wednesday’s eyebrows creeped up her forehead.

“You are.” She deadpanned.

“I know! I know, I just… about something specific.”

A beat.

“About…”

“YEah! About… um…” God, why was this so hard? Just get it out there.

“Do you… I… um. Do you want a drink?” She blurted out. Ugh. Nice going Sinclair.

Wednesday’s eyebrows raised a little higher. “I suppose.” She conceded.

“Great! I’ll go get you one.” Enid scrambled off into the crowd. Ugh. Of course Yoko was right, of course her nerves had overpowered her and she’d chickened out. No. It wasn’t too late. She’d get the drinks, come back, confess… and no matter what happened, hope it would quel the raging storm that thundered in her chest whenever Wednesday looked at her. It was a storm, yes. But it was also a flower that had slowly grown, unknown to Enid at first. A flower that glowed when Wednesday complimented her, that bloomed when they touched. A flower that Enid had unknowingly nurtured until she’d found herself with a flower bigger than she’d ever imagined. She reached the refreshments table, grabbing two plastic cups and scooping some punch in, contemplating the situation. Of fucking course she had to fall in love with Wednesday fucking Addams of all people. Wednesday with her deadpan drawl, cold glares, beautiful eyes… Something sticky and wet hit her hand, and she looked down to see that she’d overfilled the cup she was holding. Ugh.

Five minutes later she’d successfully partly cleaned up the mess, and was making her way through the crowd again, this time precariously balancing two glasses of punch. Okay. Okay. Okay okay okay okay. She got this. She’d walk up to Wednesday, tell her she liked her and then… heartbreak or kisses. Probably heartbreak, she thought bitterly.

“Okay Wednesday,” Here we go. “I got your drink, I…” she trailed off. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. There, right where she had left her, Wednesday stood in front of Xavier. The boy was holding roses. Black roses. Black roses that Wednesday’s hands were closed around, hands that dropped to Wednesday’s side at the sight of Enid standing there.

Oh.

The punch cups clattered to the floor, but all noise was muted in Enid’s ears.

Something new bloomed in Enid’s chest. Not bloomed. Withered. Withered and stung, dead branches prickling her heart, closing in and suffocating it. The feeling slowly creeped up her chest, closing up her throat, thorns stinging her eyes. Tears, hot and wet and gross and—

“Enid.” Wednesday’s voice. Her voice, which had soothed Enid’s nightmares and comforted her through her pain. Her voice that cut through Enid’s thoughts, that shocked her out of her trance.

“I… I'm sorry. Sorry. I… I have to go, I—” Enid’s words tripped and stumbled over themselves, not quite finding footing and forming complete sentences. It didn’t matter, as something else drove Enid’s legs away. Away from the shocked boy with the roses and the stunned girl who had stolen her heart. Away, away, away. Away down the confusing endless halls, which seemed to close in on her every second. Away and into the nearest door, away and stumbling into the closet and bumping into the brooms and mops and falling to the floor, sobbing. Tears soaked her thoughts, blurred common sense. Why was she crying? It’s not as if… it’s not as if she ever expected to get together with Wednesday. She didn’t expect a fairy tale ending, so why did it feel like she’d been cheated out of it? Had she read too far into the brushes of hands and passing glances that she’d feebly convinced herself she didn’t think meant anything more? Her heart felt like it’d been ripped out of her chest, tossed aside carelessly. Why did it feel like she’d handed Wednesday her heart, fragile and on edge from all the times it had been broken and dropped. Why did it feel like Wednesday had taken it from her and set it aside, doomed to inevitably fall again. Why did it feel so wrong?

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, just her and her broken heart. Stupid stupid stupid. Her mom’s voice stained her thoughts. She had no reason to be upset. She was overreacting, being overdramatic. Afterall, Wednesday didn’t know about Enid’s feelings for her. It wasn’t fair to Wednesday. And maybe, Wednesday did know and just… hadn’t cared. Decided Enid wasn’t good enough. It wouldn't be the first time Wednesday had tossed aside someone’s feelings for her own benefit. It wouldn’t be the first time Enid was abandoned for being not good enough. A shadow from behind the door tore away the flashing lights that had crept through, cracking open the door slowly. Enid kept her head in her arms, sniffling. The shadow —whoever it was — carefully set itself down next to Enid, brushing against her in the small closet.

“Enid.” Enid would recognize that voice anywhere. Even through her usual bored tone, Wednesday still managed to sound… caring.

“Enid, I need you to talk to me.” A pause, a mini void filled only by more sniffling from Enid.

“Why are you upset?” Her voice wasn’t demanding or accusing. Only curious. Like her voice that first night on the roof, when she had asked why Enid was crying. She’d said because she was upset. Maybe Wednesday understood that now, that crying meant that Enid wasn’t okay, that she needed comfort. Enid let the silence hang for a few more moments, trying to collect her stray thoughts and fish out an excuse.

“I… just. Sorry. Must’ve had too much to drink, haha.” Enid hated the way her voice sounded, weak and scrawny like a newborn chick.

“I can’t help if you’re lying to me.” Wednesday stated so matter-of-factly, turning to face Enid. Her eyes were so beautiful, a betraying part of her brain couldn’t help notice.“Is this about Xavier?” She continued. “Do you… like him?” Her eyes were like milky black pearls. Or a void staring endlessly back at Enid… wait. Wait what.

“What? No!” Enid wrinkled her nose. Even the thought of getting together with that… emo wannabe made her want to gag.

“Then what’s wrong?” Enid looked away again, resting her head in her arms.

Click

She looked up, startled. The closet door had slammed shut, and she scrambled to her feet, jiggling the door handle. It was locked. Wednesday had stood up too, pushing Enid aside to try it herself.

“Thing, if you do not open this door I will flay you alive.” She said, tone so sharp you could use it to slit someone's throat. No sound from the other side of the door, save for the soft clicks of manicured fingers padding off.

“Thing!” Wednesday growled. Enid shoved her back aside, trying to channel some werewolf strength to open up the door. Wednesday pushed her back, and soon they were shoving each other back and forth in the tiny closet.

“Enid, stop moving.”

“Give me some space!”

“Stop moving!”

Enid froze, eyes barely registering anything in the total darkness. A moment later, a light clicked on. Wednesday had found a lightbulb, and the cord to turn it on along with it. Speaking of Wednesday… after a moment of adjusting to the light Enid noticed.. They were very close. A tangle of limbs, they’d somehow ended up eye-to-eye, barely a foot between their faces.

Oh god

Enid could feel herself turning red, her cheeks flushing as Wednesday mumbled something about Thing never seeing the light of day again. She looked… really hot. Which was a very weird thing to think about the sweaty girl with a death glare you were trapped in a closet with, so she was going to stop thinking about it along with the ever growing urge to kiss Wednesday Friday Addams.

“I was jealous!” Enid blurted out. She wasn’t sure where it came from. Maybe she was tired of hiding it. Wednesday was looking at her, dumbfounded.

“…What?”

“I was jealous.” Enid continued, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see the disgust that would inevitably flush the other girl’s face. “I was jealous of Xavier. Because I know he likes you and you like him and I…” She trailed off, bowing her head as more tears stung her eyes. “And I like you.” The words hung heavy in the air, a long held secret finally released.

“You like me?” Wednesday’s voice was a whisper, a ghost. But Enid heard it. Liked her? She more than liked her, really.

“I—”

“TEN!”

Enid was cut off by a chorus of voices from outside the closet. She pulled up her apple watch. 11:59. The countdown to new years had begun.

“NINE!”

“Enid, listen.” Wednesday's voice rang out urgent and clear.

“EIGHT!”

“It’s okay, I get it. You don’t like me back.” It was hard to keep the spite from creeping into her voice.

“SEVEN!”

“No, I… I don’t like Xavier. We’re not a thing. I rejected him”

“SIX!”

For a moment, Enid’s voice was stolen from her.

Wednesday didn’t like Xavier.

“FIVE!”

“But… I don’t understand. The flowers…” Something cold creeped up Enid’s face. Wednesday. Wednesday’s hands cupped her cheeks.

“FOUR!”

The space between them had gotten smaller, the air a kind of heavy that made Enid’s chest seize up around her heart and catch her breath.

“THREE!”

“I don’t like Xavier. I like you.” Wednesday said softly, so close that Enid could feel her warm breath mingling with Enid’s own.

“TWO!”

“Me? But… I don’t understand.” Enid’s voice was shaky, trembling. A million things were going on within her, panicked screams and breathless gasps. She was pretty sure she was having a heart attack.

“Then let me help you understand,” Wednesday replied, the determination in her voice reflected in her eyes.

“ONE!”

Faster than Enid could prepare or process, Wednesday kissed her. On the lips. And after an incredible moment that lasted for an infinity, that she would carry with her for the rest of her life, Enid kissed back. She couldn’t see the fireworks outside, but she had a pretty good idea from inside the closet. The boom was her heartbeat, so quick and so loud. The heat was Wednesday’s lips against hers, warm and welcoming. The lights… the lights were the faint blush that graced Wednesday’s black and white cheeks, the shine in her eyes when they opened as they broke apart. Wednesday's hands were a chilly vine, receding from Enid’s hair, tracing her chin.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The crowd from outside screamed, laughing and talking before breaking into a chorus. Wednesday’s eyes never left Enid, her brow furrowing.

“You taste like alcohol.”

Enid couldn’t help it. The flower in her chest had bloomed again, and something in her was just so… happy. She broke out into giggles, doubling over. She’d just kissed Wednesday fucking Addams. She’d just kissed Wednesday!

“Pffft. Happy New Year Wednesday.”

[pinkpastels113]

Rediscovering some Good Songs, so now I'm wondering, what are some songs you associate with Beca & Chloe? (Or the other Bellas!) And why?

I HAVE SO MANY SONGS SO THIS IS A GOOD QUESTION (ie i struggled adfgdjhsk) but i still hope yall like:

beca

no diggity (blackstreet) bc obviouslyy

no scrubs (tlc) just the vibee ahh and my lil bisexual girlie will not be with a man if he is not good to her !!!

just the way you are (bruno mars) DUHHHH the eye contact in the pool sigh and the moment where aubrey relinquished control of the pitch pipe and chloe was smug like see bree i told you she's good we will def make it to lincoln center

freedom! '90 (george michael) no explanation needed and bc she is finally getting recognized for her talent ahh but she decided to share it with her family (the bellas!!)

cups (originally by ap carter i think) bc iconic pop culture phenomenon

paint the town red (doja cat) rawr alt badass girlie pp1 beca

poison poison (renee rapp) for @afh48 mostly but yes!! beca is very "you're so fucking annoying" core

before he cheats (carrie underwood) she SLAPPED IN THAT RIFF OFF IM AFRAID- the way she grabbed that guy's jacket oof

chloe

she's v my "pink glitter gel pen" playlist coded i fear and here are some music/songs from it:

pocketful of sunshine (natasha bedingfield) bc she's a sunshine baby even kendrick says so <33

message in a bottle (taylor swift) i just think she's a swiftie and that this song and its fast beat and bubblegum pop is very her

we are never ever getting back together (taylor swift) red era chloe beale stan

love me harder (ariana grande) THAT PART IN PP3 WHEN SHE SINGS "love me harderrr, cuz if you really need me you gotta gotta gotta love me harder, gotta love me harderrr” GETS ME EVERY TIME

i kissed a girl (katy perry) her coming out song

still into you (paramore) she def dances around the bella house to this song

material girl (madonna) and this also pertains to aubrey, this is their friendship song <33

ocean eyes (billie eilish) brittany's eyes are so pretty i cant even begin to describe-

bechloe (the way i had originally just put these songs under beca and chloe separately but they got too many songs that make me think about them together that it should be a different section lmao)

not to be a dramatic (zoe clark) from beca to chloe <33 just LISTEN to the lyrics pls omg it is so angsty and pining

mascara (kylie cantrall) chloe telling beca the message in this song when she breaks up with jesse :((

friends dont (maddie & tae) just listen to it pls yall it's literally friends to lovers of them and fits their vibe perfectly and everytime i listen to it i daydream a whole ass bechloe fic like it's INSANE

not like im in love with you (lew) same thing as above

titanium (david guetta) sigh if i dont include this esp in this fandom i might as well kms/joking teehee

kiss me (sixpence none the richer) soft domestic bechloe <333

toxic (britney spears) again, the trust, the chemistry, the eye contact, the harmonies, the solos in pp3. im feral.

good luck, babe! + casual + red wine supernova (chappell roan)

birds of a feather (billie eilish) ahh i love them and to this song sm "i'll love you till the day i die, till the light leaves my eyes, till the day i dieee"

enchanted + dress + gorgeous + dancing with our hands tied (taylor swift)

stacie

low (flo rida) pp2 riff off cuz shawty had that apple bottom jeans (jeans) boots with the furr (with the fur) the whole club was lookin' at herr

sex with me (rihanna) pretty obvious methinks lmao

s&m (rihanna) no words truly

taste (sabrina carpenter) i headcanon stacie as pan so i just feel like the lyrics of this song can pertain to her if she's ever realizing that her past prospects are fucking each other <33

you problem (cloudy june, emlyn) i feel like she believes karma is a thing and "oh well you kinda asked for it haha" when someone comes to her complaining about drama or something like that if they started it in the first place if that makes sense

breakfast (dove cameron) nom nom her attitude towards men most of the time i think; "he's a hunter" coded

honey, im good (andy grammer) STAUBREY but she would never cheat on aubrey obv but maybe angst at the beginning of their relationship

heart attack (demi lovato) ANOTHER STAUBREY SONG HEHE

confident (demi lovato) goes without saying that stacie is confident in who she is and what she wants and goes for it

aubrey

boyfriend (dove cameron) hmm anyone here for jealous wlw aubrey? bc i am

hit me with your best shot (pat benatar) pp1 riff off :))

classic (mkto) she's just so Classic and i feel like she would love to be wooed traditionally like the whole wine and dine thing and lots of flowers on dates (stacie cough** im looking at you)

what makes you beautiful (one direction) i debated putting this under her or chloe but chloe def knows that she's hot, quoting “yeah im pretty confident about... all this ;))” so aubrey it is!!

hey blondie (dominic fike) girlie just wants to be serenaded fr

pretty girls (renee rapp) a lot of angst in coming to terms with her sexuality unfortunately :((

emily

sit still look pretty (daya) i can NOT listen to this song without thinking of her now i fear

flashlight (jessie j) same reason as above!! legacy is just a baby aaahh

cool kids (echosmith) she just wants to fit in 🐣

most girls (hailee steinfeld) i feel like she admires a lot of girls around her and wants to be like them and obv hailee singing it helps lol

cynthia rose

crazy youngsters (ester dean) that music video!!

starships (nicki minaj) idk i just think ab her when i hear it

amy

we belong (pat benatar) that "hey im soloing here!! whataver!!" part is so funny to me every time haha in pp2

[weird-is-life]

Hi Love! You Spencer fics give me life btw, Okay, so idk if you've seen NCIS,but there is this goth character named Abby and she is like a forensic scientist . I would love to see Spencer (maybe later seasons) having to work with a reader like Abby. Opposites attract kind of thing / love at first sight/mutual pining .

Hiii, thank u so much for this request. I am sooooooo sorry, that this took me like 2 months to write 😭I hope this isn't too bad (1k) warnings: talk of bombs, fluff

Sometimes you think, that Spencer likes you, like more than just a friend. It's always when you catch him staring lovesick at you or hear him giggle at your stupid science jokes. It makes your heart swell everytime.

But you stop daydreaming about this, when the reality sets in and you realise the big difference between the two of you. Like there's just no way Spencer likes you the way you like him.

You two are complete opposites. Well, that's not entirely true. You and Spencer share love for science and solving things, which is exactly why you are both at the FBI. But other than this, you don't think, that you have much in common.

Your thinking about Spencer is cut short, because there's a literal bomb being placed in front of you. The team is working on a local case. There's a very dangerous bomber, which they are trying to catch.

Your task is to analyse the bomb as best as you can, even the tiniest detail can help the team. It's not often you get to work with the team, especially this close, so you want to do good and not mess it up.

You put on your favourite band and closely study the bomb. As you bop your head to the blasting music, you write down everything that seams important, even the stuff that is not so important, down.

You work fast and in like 2 hours, you are done and happy with you analysis. You sent a text to Penelope, she is usually the one that comes for the papers and you like her, she is a total sweetheart everytime she comes to your lab.

You don't expect her to come right away, so you don't turn the music down even one bit. Honestly, a big mistake from your part.

It's not Penelope, who comes to grab the analysis papers and also it's not later, it's right away. Spencer was basically pushed towards the elevator to go to your lab by Penelope. Of course, she knows that you two fancy each other (she thinks you'll be the cutest couple) and she's decided, that she's going to get you together, whatever it takes. Even if it means dragging Spencer towards you.

Spencer finds your lab easily, he's been here too many times. But he's never heard the music playing so loud. You don't even hear the door opening or him coming inside. He only gets your attention when he carefully puts his hand on your shoulder as to not scare you, which goes totally the wrong way.

You flinch so hard and jump away from him instantly, that you almost fall on the floor, not to mention the curse words slipping out of your mouth.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Spencer worriedly apologises.

"Doctor Reid, you scared me," you say with a surprise, you definitely weren't expecting him here. You lower the volume of the music.

"I'm sorry, I called out your name, but I think it was too loud," he explains, stepping from one foot to another.

"It's okay, it's my fault. I put it way too loud. It's just...It's my favourite band,"  you grin sheepishly at him. Your pink blush in contrast with the black lipstick and eyeliner.

"Really? Have they been your favourite band for long now?" Spencer asks, giving you a small smile.

"Gosh, for so long, I don't even know. Maybe since I've discovered how much I love music," you must have been a kid then, when you found you passion for music, " what about you Dr. Reid, what's your favourite band?"

"Spencer, please call me Spencer," it's his turn to blush again, when he says it. You always call him dr. Reid and even if he knows you are joking, he prefers you calling him Spencer, " a-and I don't really have a favourite band or-or a song."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just don't really know any music, maybe just some classical," he shrugs his shoulders, " I know, it's bad." He adds when he sees your wide eyes.

"Oh my god, this is actually a crime," you dramatically say, " I would gladly give you some recommendations, but I think time isn't on our side right now." You don't think Spencer would like your kind of taste of music, metal probably isn't his type, but you could definitely look something up for him.

Spencer would like that, like a lot. But yeah, he can't waste time by chatting with you, when there's a serial bomber in the streets.

He really wants to tho, I mean he wouldn't say no to spending time with you, maybe it would give him an actual chance with you. So with these kind of thoughts, he does something very, almost too brave.

"How about over a coffee?" he nervously blurts out and you don't quite know if you've heard right or your imagination is playing tricks on you.

"Over a coffee?"

"O-or tea, whatever you drink...."he adds, words stammering.

"Sure," you agree and give him the nicest smile you can do.

"R-really?" Spencer isn't expecting you to agree, he thinks, you are way out of his league, too pretty to even talk to him.

"Definitely, I'd love that," you reassure him and before you know it, these words escape your mouth, " it's a date, then."

Your dread goes away, when Spencer returns your shy smile and states," can't wait for it, I'll text you, yeah?" He starts to slowly back out of the lab.

"Okay," you giggle, because you realise, that he is forgetting the one thing he came here for, " don't you want the analysis of the bomb?"

"Ohhh," his cheeks go red again," right." He quickly comes back for it and heads for the door. At the door he looks at you for one last time and accidentally walks with his shoulder into the edge of the door.

You can't help but to giggle some more as he embarrassingly laughs and leaves your lab.

In your happy mood, you put the music back on and start thinking of the right songs for Spencer.

[rweoutofthewoods]

do you have a writing routine? or any tips for writing? like starting a fanfiction or things you do when you get stuck midway?

Yes!

My routine has always been to basically to write every day possible (formerly every day, but I got incredibly fatigued and burnt out). I used to write every morning. I'd cut out time early in my day and take my laptop with me to get coffee or just writeat home with my caffeine. That used to work really well for me, but I've become less of a morning person (started staying up too late to get up early) so now I write pretty much every night. After work, or it used to be after classes during the semester. I have a writing buddy I write with most nights, so that helps a lot with holding me accountable (and also taking a deserved break sometimes). I just set up somewhere comfortable and do put away any distractions. I have a whole fancy desk set up, but ngl I usually write in my bed 😭 really, I just try to always do a few things that put me in "writing mode" which includes the right music, some sort of drink, tying my hair up and putting on my glasses (which I never wear otherwise except for driving because I'm vain, so it really puts me in the right mode when I'm not blind for once.)

As for starting a fic, a playlist or a certain vibe is very important for me. I don't always know what my plot will be, or sometimes even have more than a vague idea. But I'm very imagery-based when writing, so as long as I have something distinct in the setting, the vibe, or a certain character, I can get a lot out of it. (case in point, god bless america began with a clear image of the setting in my mind, a U.S Girls song, and not a single piece of actual plot.)

This might be the worst advice ever, but if I get stuck on something I usually give up. NOW HEAR ME OUT... I'm going somewhere with this. I thrive on having a lot of ideas and different stories to write, so if I'm really, truly stuck, I'll take a break and work on something else. 95% of the time, whether it takes a day or months, I'll randomly get struck by inspiration or the answer will just come to me and I can jump back in. That's why I'll often fail to update something for a long time and then randomly jump back in with a bunch of updates. Sometimes it's good to take a break from it. I'm a maladaptive daydreamer, and they images and dialouge comes to me really vividly whenever I'm just spending time on my own, and I spend a lot of time just like... thinking about fics, so they usually sneak in and I end up figuring out a scene to myself before I write it which helps me get unstuck. Also, sometimes if I'm stuck on something I just skip it for a while. Not everything has to be linear. I jump around to future scenes and it becomes a lot easier to fill in the missing pieces once I know where I'm going.

Hope this gives you some ideas xx