#Sparks writes a poem? again?

[sparks-chaotic-cove]

I want to sit in silence with you.

I want to watch the sun go down.

I want to see the stars emerge,

their twinkling lights like the hope in our eyes.

I want to see you smile

I want to hear your laugh

I want to hear that grin on your voice

when I squeak in shock of something going wrong

I want to hear you ramble

I want to hear you joke

I want to hear your words,

whether story, worry, or pokes.

I want to hear your heart

I want to hear your mind

I want to be a witness to all that is inside your heart

[hellverse]

the act

[novlr]

I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project. 

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark. 

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it). 

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle. 

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning. 

Dress [in]appropriately 

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face. 

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark. 

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes. 

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going. 

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative. 

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities. 

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life. 

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back. 

[neil-gaiman]

hi dad,

ok i know ur not -really- my dad lmao just let me cope. i lost mine, so you're stuck with that title now. anyway. i just felt like telling you how great things seem to be going for me rn (fuck i hope i don't curse it). i've been a fan for a long ass time, but i got into the GO fandom only last year, and in just a few months i feel like i've gotten so much better, both mental health wise and creatively. i'm a neat little bundle of depression, anxiety, autiADHD, BPD, and cPTSD. isn't that lovely haha. but hey, i'm also a writer. a poet. an artist. and a helluva burned out musician. BUT. ever since i've been hanging out here, i've been writing SO much more, i've been doing fanfics, and so many cool poems, and improving my writing skills so much. i started drawing again after like 2 years of not touching a goddamn pencil, and i just bought some paint and a canvas bc i wanna get back into painting again like i used to when i was younger. and also through reading other GO fics, i've felt inspired to play piano again, which was a great deal to me a few years back. and it's awesome to feel that spark again.

Good Omens has meant a lot to me since i first read it around 2015. but now more than ever because there's a whole community i can share stuff about it with and it feels great. i recently lost a close group of friends, one of my best friends to suicide, and well. my irl dad. and i've been feeling hella lonely for a long time. but i feel like i've been gaining that sense of community again through good omens. and i can't tell you enough how much it means to me. so, idk. i guess i wanted to say thanks for that. and also for being so supportive of trans/queer people. it means the world to me. so. thanks dad. ily

I'm just glad I'm helping.

[featguler]

DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING ? ! a part of ' BUZZ '.

'cause i don't know if i can compete with the former crowned head of your old ford's front seat, and the story goes you blame it on the lonely nights for it ever starting. but answer the question: did you like her in the morning?

SUMMARY : you try piecing the puzzle of jude's ex-lover together. PAIRING : jude bellingham x reader TAGS : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. insecurity, angst a little bit-ish, jude is eepy WORDCOUNT : 1,218 NOTES : first one-shot in the series wooo!! 🎉🎉 make sure to check out the series master list!! this one-shot is also inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo and girl crush by little big town ♡ masterlist.

Jude’s previous love was a nobody.

Which is to say that no matter the amount of models he follows on Instagram, and no matter the amount of sparkling cars and glamorous lifestyle that he effectuates, Jude Bellingham is, after all, capable of feeling at home with somebody who is a nobody.

Which is to say that you sound like a fucking unbearable, out of touch, bliss-tippled piece of shit whenever you think about her in your stupid little head.

Which is to say that you have not stopped thinking about her in your stupid little head.

How she wears her hair, how she lines her lips. You memorised how often she reapplies her hand cream, how often she takes that sunstick out her bag; you know what warrants a smile from her face and what draws in a laugh.

You might be in love with her just as much as Jude was.

The girl, you learned, had little to no Instagram presence. But she is there, and not a single person on Earth aside from Jude’s inner circle—and you—know about their relationship. She was there on Jude’s private account—you had known him shortly before they separated—filling up his Instagram stories with recordings on how she is cooking him her homeland’s cuisine, how Jude was the only living man on Earth that her pedigree cat would ever let pet her.

And Jude had deleted all of their pictures together the moment they broke up; he calls it bitterness, you see it as resentment. He blocked her everywhere: he blocked her number, he blocked her Instagram account, he blocked her Spotify account, he blocked her Medium account (you didn’t even know that blocking someone on Medium is a thing you can do).

But you don’t share the same pettiness as Jude, right?

No you do not. You still go to her page, even if you don’t follow her, and scan over the love poems she still posts, studying each line and wonder if Jude is still the muse of her writing—her delicate, brittle writing.

Ultimately, your concern lies in how Jude was not the one to break the relationship off. She saw a loss of spark, she saw that fame is getting into his head. And Jude? Jude wanted nothing but forever with her. Something she could not match.

God.

It would be easier if you just mind your own business, shut the case, and not bring her up in whatever chance you got. But it would also be easier if she was not someone he had loved.

A pizza delivery man fell from his Vespa and she was the first person to help him up, he once laughed a fond reminiscence, just a few months before you get together. No one even moved an inch—I certainly did not. I have tried helping others as much as I can since then, y’know? I don’t know, man. I just think of her every time I do something nice.

How are you going to fill such a deep gap?

You accidentally saw a text from his friend one night. “I don’t like this one as much.” You didn’t need much explaining, and pretended to not see how Jude typed a quick “Fuck off????”, but you thought about that comment for a long, hard week. The same friend had pointed out earlier in your relationship that Jude had only blocked her because if he were to hear her voice once again, he would come running back to her. It was something neither of you nor Jude appreciated.

But it made you think.

Thinking sure is the root of disdain.

You stare at your bathroom mirror, and Jude snores softly in the background, lying face down with his lips parted slightly. You wonder why loving Jude Bellingham has turned you into such a narcissist: always looking so deeply into every single crook of your face, every bump and scars and pores.

You have never paid attention to yourself this much, not since forever, not since your first love in middle school.

But somehow, this is worse. Much, much worse.

It’s seven-thirty in the morning, and the sun is barely up. You step out of your bathroom and take in how he lays upon your bed, unknowing how much bigger he is than the small cranny of your apartment.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, opening his eyes for a quick second before quickly shutting them again. You step closer, sinking the bed with one knee. “Sun’s up early, eh, love?”

“Mhm?” Your fingertips reach to travel on his hairline, fading in clarity and needing another visit to the barber soon. “Sun’s not up, Jude.”

“Jude?” He let out a disgruntled groan, eyes still closed with his hand blindly grasping for yours on his face. “Why Jude? ‘Tcha mad at me?”

The sleepiness is as thick as his accent. You laugh softly and lean in to press a tender kiss against his temple, interlocking your fingers with his, but your mind cannot help but speculate on how she had kissed him like this before, how he would sleep on her ribbon-adorned bedcover, with her Birman just in the corner, curled up on a window sill, as pretty as she was.

“Am not, baby.”

Jude hums. “What’d I do?” He asks again, but before you can answer, he snuggles deeper into his pillow rambling. “Wanna sleep on your lap, wanna cuddle—can I?”

“My love,” you coo, climbing deeper into the bed, letting him climb onto your lap, “come.”

His ear rests on your thighs and arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, holding on you tight like your air conditioner is going to blow you away.

“Not goin’ back to sleep, candy?”

“That’s a new one,” you wonder if he had used that nickname on her before. “No, baby. I’ve been up a while.”

“Why didn’tcha wake me up?”

You shrug, trying to get comfortable with being in love with him. “You look peaceful sleeping.”

He answers with a grown into your lap, pressing a soft kiss on your thigh before nuzzling into his prior position. “Wanna be awake when you are, love.”

“You need your rest,” you rub your palm along the side of his neck, stopping to move just move your thumb.

“Rest comes everyday,” he says, “I don’t get to see you everyday now, do I?”

This time, you smile. The fear is consistent—it creeps up your veins like anxiety towering and taunting your every breath.

“Well, you’re awake now” —

If he is offering his love to you, though it was once someone else’s, would it be so much of a sin just to try it? Even if he ends up hurting you, even if he ends up leaving you for something that he knew was much sweeter?

— “what would you like to do?”

“Mhm,” Jude opens his eyes, turning his head to catch your eyes.

You freeze, and her face appears in your head: how does she talk about you to her friends? How does she compare you to her? The way you do your hair, or call Jude your baby?

“Dunno, love,” he mutters. “What do you want to do?”

You trace your fingers again on his hairline, drawing down to his neck.

“What about pizza?” You suggest. “Let’s order some pizza.”

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 2: Jailbird

Ellie Williams x reader

I want to write a poem about you but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. I almost feel ashamed that I want you to fit into a word because we both know that you are beyond anything that can be put on paper.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends before you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find there way back to each other. While you both visit home for winter break, events unfold and it is no longer possible to avoid each other.

Warnings: Angst / homophobia / brief violence / reader has religious issues

Part one here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I may have been wrong to say that I could never hate Ellie. Fuck she was vicious, in the most passive-aggressive way too. She's so sly about it that I can't even get mad without seeming irrational.

Winter break finally rolled around and I had yet to make any progress with Ellie it was whatever the opposite of progress is. If she wanted to hate me, that was fine, I could do the same, I could be petty. It's now December and all of this bullshit started in September, she could hardly be courteous.

Fuck her.

I had survived mid-terms and finals but the way Ellie was acting had me skipping happily towards the edge. She will wash a whole sink of dishes and leave just my fork, or Venmo request me if I ate one of her grapes. Everything had gotten worse when Dina, Abby, and Cat all left to visit their families for winter break leaving just Ellie and I, without the girls there to hold us to the house rules we were at each other's throats.

She was foaming at the fucking mouth to tear me apart. There was no level-headed Abby or fun-loving Dina, not even Cat who was just mellow. Just me and Ellie verbally abusing each other. "Fuck off, with your wild animal teeth," I spat, slamming the dish cupboard closed with a loud thud.

"Wild animal teeth?" She repeats "Wow, you're getting creative, I'll give you that," Ellie's gaze held a certain bitterness "Heard you were on your knees again last night and I don't mean praying."

My eye almost twitches at her words and it takes everything in me not to throw a ceramic bowl at her. I hated her, I hated her freckled face, and eyes as sharp as knives, just hearing her raspy voice, and seeing her sardonic smile made me want to keel over and let the earth wrap me in her flourishing greenery. I often wanted that to happen. I was trying to refrain from going home as I didn't want to spend the entire break with my family but I was starting to think nothing was better than this, I was set to leave the following day (Christmas Eve) anyway but I was seconds away from grabbing my bag and jumping into my car. "Can you just learn to be fucking civil?"

"Why would-

"Because we were sixteen years old when that stupid shit happened!" I spat "You're holding a grudge from when we were sixteen," I reiterated, searching her features for some sign that I'd gotten through to her.

"It's not like you've changed since any of that happened." She stands, unnervingly calm on the other side of the kitchen island. "You were always awful since we were young, always crying, always emotional, always explosive, my dad said you're like a birch tree, one spark and you burst into flames."

"Fuck off."

"You always had to have the attention," Her eyebrows furrow "Nothing was your fault, blame being fucking erratic and insane on your parents."

"You don't know my parents half as well as you think you do."

"What don't I know about them? They've been in my life as long as you have."

"Ellie, stop," I say, suddenly I'm taken away from the mood to fight, I just want to scream into my pillow.

"What?" She asks "You're going to say some shit like 'they aren't loving'  or 'you wouldn't get it' Please, enlighten me, what wouldn't I get?" She moves closer just an inch or so "Wow, your life sounds so hard, you have two parents who love each other and a huge fucking house, oh shit," Sarcasm drips from her tone "Maybe it's that trust fund that's taking a toll on you."

"Please, stop."

"You could commit every crime known to man and you would still be their pride and joy, there is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you-

"Here we go with your 'life is so fucking hard and I'm edgy and indie and I have a sad backstory that I'll bring up every second sentence even though I was seven when it happened' " I mock her.

She bites the inside of her cheek and I can tell that I've struck a nerve "You know when my lease-

"Don't even worry about it," I move out from the kitchen and begin towards my room, Ellie's eyes are trailing me "The minute my lease is up, I'm packing my shit and moving into student housing so I won't have to look at your fucking face while I'm eating!" I slam my bedroom door behind me.

I left that night, I couldn't bear the sound of her guitar strums, so repetitive it made me want to slam my head through the drywall.

You better believe that I cried my entire way home while blasting Julien Baker. My mother was pleasantly surprised to see me at her doorstep a day early, I knew Ellie would be coming down sometime tomorrow to spend the Holidays with her family, I didn't know when, I just knew that I didn't want to see her.

I never even told my parents that Ellie was my roommate and they hadn't heard it from Joel as they drifted when Ellie and I were fifteen.

My bedroom was exactly how I left, I cuddled into my twin bed that night sinking into the absolute silence of the the snowfall, with my dog Dusty curled at my side. I always loved the snow, the way it acted as soundproofing for the earth, when I was little I would just sit in the backyard so I could hear the birds sing in their purest and truest form.

Christmas Eve was dull to begin with, to say the least; my mom made Christmas tree-shaped waffles as she did every year, I was then dragged to an excruciatingly long church sermon. When we returned home I was sent to shovel the driveway, turns out visiting home from college doesn't excuse you from chores. I knew Ellie had arrived when I saw her grey sedan in Joel's driveway as well as Tommy's Range Rover. Bundled up in mittens and a hand-knitted scarf that Naomi gave to me I felt really tough giving the middle finger to Ellie wherever she was in Joel's house.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Elijah was cackling in the doorway. Dusty I happily bounding through the snow, paying to mind to my brother.

I immediately dropped my arm, trying to play nonchalantly "Uh, shoveling the driveway?"

His laughter only grew "You look so stupid," He huffed between cackles "You're standing in a foot of snow in the driveway giving Mr. Miller's house the middle finger in your cute little mitts."

"Say that louder, no one could hear you," I say, sarcastically.

"Hear ye, hear ye-

My eyes go wide and I drop the shovel to form a snowball and deck it at my brother "Shut up!"

"Ow!" He flinches, and his track and field hoodie from high school is now covered in powdered sleet. "Whatever," He yanks his hoodie off to shake the snow off of it "Just finish the driveway so we can watch a movie or something, I haven't seen you in months, Naomi and Aaron haven't shut up about you all holiday break."

I give him a mitted thumbs up before I try to speed run the shovelling, albeit slipping on black ice more than a few times. When I came back inside, I needed to change, my parka was dripping with snow that had melted into water.

I bundle up into sweatpants and an old soccer t-shirt. Being in my old room digs up memories pinned on my wall with bright thumbtacks year after year of photos of my soccer team, in every single one Ellie and I have our arms slung over each other. We're smiling wide and not focusing on the camera but on one another. I tear the picture away from the thumbtacks and throw them into a random shoe box that sits at the bottom of my closet. After that, I take down every artifact I have of Ellie, the drawings she made me, drafts of songs we wrote together, and t-shirts she left in my drawers, I throw it all into a Rubbermaid storage bin.

Though I leave the little wood carvings that Joel made for me alone.

My family's famous Christmas Eve dinner rolled around and I couldn't believe how excited I was, I'm not the best cook and despite me and my mother going through spats every other day, she was one hell of a good chef and I had spent months craving her honey roasted carrots and creamy mashed potatoes.

Please don't judge me when I say this, but we are the family that dresses up for dinners at home. Nothing black tie, just something a little dapper, one time I wore jeans to our family dinner and I was grounded for a week.

I finished zipping up my white sundress and I let my little sister tie a matching bow into my hair, when she saw what I was wearing she changed into her white dress which was ankle length while mine fell right above my knees.

"Oh, my sweet girls are matching again," My mom fawns over us "Let me get a picture of this cute little moment," I smile for the picture, and Naomi does the same, hooking an arm around my midriff. "Adorable," Mom looks at the picture before tucking her phone into her pocket "Now girls, please set the table."

Even though I hadn't been at home for months, setting the table was like muscle memory to me, Naomi put the placemats down, and then I did the dinner plate and salad plate, Naomi would place the napkins and cutlery then I would set glasses and pour everyone water from the pitcher. By the time we finished setting the table everyone aside from my mother and Elijah were at the table, early awaiting what was sure to be a filling dinner.

Slowly but surely my mom brought the dishes with Elijah, placing them all through the center of the dining table. After everything was placed my father, who sits at the head of the table cleared his throat, that was his signal for everyone to join hands. "Dear God, We gather today with grateful hearts to thank you for this food before us. We appreciate the effort and resources that have provided us with this nourishment. May this meal sustain our bodies and remind us of the many blessings in our lives. We are thankful for the love of family and friends who surround us and for the abundance we enjoy. Bless this food, our time together, and those who prepared it. May it strengthen us physically and spiritually. This is your body, this is your love. We thank you for feeding us with your gracious hands. In Jesus' name, we give thanks and pray. Amen."

"Amen," My family repeats before we all ravishingly fill our plates with chicken, maple-roasted mushrooms, buttered green beans, bread rolls, and mashed potatoes. I was eating so fast, I was shocked that I didn't spill anything on myself.

"So, have you met any cute boys at college?" My mother asks me, she is the only one eating politely "I'm sure you could get a real smart guy with those looks of yours."

My father nods "Just make sure he's Christian."

"Or catholic," My mother adds.

I laugh awkwardly in response, I take a sip of my water, the condensation making it slippery in my hands. Elijah gives me an odd look that goes unnoticed by my parents.

"I think we should drop off some bread or cookies or something to the Miller's, just something to say hi while Tommy and Maria are still there." My mom tells us, she isn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"Is Ellie there right now?" Aaron asks.

Elijah shrugs "Probably, her car is in the driveway."

Now Naomi is looking at me "We should invite her over for New Year's or something if she's staying for the rest of break."

My dad shakes his head "I don't know if that's a good idea," All eyes fall on him "It's just- I think she's a bit of a bad influence." He takes a swig of his wine and attempts to suppress a burp but fails. I press my lips into a thin line and look down at my plate to hold in my laughter, Elijah does the same beside me.

"I don't remember Ellie being a bad influence," Aaaron furrows his eyebrows, racking his brain to think of a time that she had done their family wrong.

"It's just that there were rumours of her having-" My father searches for the words "Unnatural tendencies I suppose, and I tried to talk to Joel about it but he got defensive and said that she didn't need fixing, that's how I lost my best fishing buddy."

My mom looks at the discomfort on all of her children's faces "I mean, we all need a bit of fixing."

Dad is quick to catch on "Oh, yeah, of course, I mean it's not just Ellie," He fumbles over his words "And it's not her fault that she's that way, I think It's because she lost her mother when she was young so she got confused about the parental roles, Joel never remarried and he didn't date around much so Ellie didn't have a proper mother figure, it's not her fault she's a dyke and there's still time to fix it if she wants to choose the right path."

Stillness falls over the table, I had never heard silence quite this loud. Even my mother is at a loss for words. All of my siblings are darting our eyes at one another, we don't utter a single word but we understand each other clearly 'Dad actually said it'.

He noticed this and tried to backtrack on his words "I'm not a bad guy, I mean we've all read the bible cover to cover, we know it's a sin. I'll wrap this up, you all know that we love you no matter what and all I'm saying is I'm glad we could distance ourselves away from it."

"Hey Dad, did you watch the Canucks game last week?" Elijah swoops in to change the topic. It's too late, a wave of sickness has already overtaken me.

While my family discusses nothing in particular, trying to ignore what Dad said, I am sick to my stomach, I push my plate away and prop my elbow the the table for my hand to support my head. I am nearly shaking. My dull eyes peer across the table and meet my father's drowsy gaze.

"Honey, are you feeling alright?" My mom pauses whatever conversation she is enwrapped in.

I don't respond, I don't know how.

My family's eyes find a resting place on my figure. Mom pushes herself away from her chair and walks over to me, she places one hand between my shoulder blades, the other takes my cold hand and she slowly rubs a circle on my back to comfort me. "Sweetness, whatever is repressed inside, say it, let it out, we're all family."

Naomi nods in agreement, her wide eyes full of concern. "I don't know how to say it," I tell them.

"Air it out," My dad says, finishing off his glass of wine and pouring himself another "Today is the perfect day, tomorrow is the birth of Jesus, a fresh start."

My heart is racing faster than it ever has before, faster than when I broke my wrist in Ellie's backyard or when I had been on a rollercoaster for the first time. "I like girls," I say, my voice is quiet, and my three words take my family with silence. My mother freezes and takes a step back, her comforting hands leaving me.

"You're joking," My dad scoffs "Tell me this is a joke and you're normal."

"I can't," My voice cracks and I can already tell that the tears are oncoming. I think briefly back to Ellie's words 'There is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you' if only she could see what was about to happen.

"All of those sleepovers with Ellie?" He is disgusted, his face contorting with horror "Were you dating her?"

"no-

"How can I believe anything you say, you lied to us for nineteen years when you knew you were sick."

"Dad, I'm not sick-

"How many sinful acts have you done under this roof?"

"None, I swear," I shake my head, it took less than a minute for me to be filled with regret at my words. I shouldn't have even come home for the holidays, actually, I never should've found Dina's listing and jumped at the deal.

"Get out," Any light tone in my dad's voice is gone, replaced by pure resentment.

"What?"

"You heard me, get out."

"Dad, it's Christmas Eve-

"Get out!" His voice rumbles through the dining room like thunder "I thought we fixed this phase when we sent you to boarding school."

"Please, dad-

"Get up and get out or I'm going to make you,"

"Fine- make me," Tears prick in my eyes but I cross my arms trying to muster up that false coolness Ellie is so good at feigning.

My dad slams his glass down so hard that it shakes the table, and the partially empty wine bottle my parents had been nursing all night is knocked over by the abruption, tipping over the deep red liquor to travel down the tablecloth and drip onto what was once my pure white dress. "Get up!" He grabs a fistful of my hair and I scream from the shock of pain. He yanks me off my chair and my face slams against the hardwood when his arm slumps, impact heavy from the sudden drop, it doesn't take long for my nose to start bleeding. He drags me to the door pushing it open; my siblings don't do anything they're petrified in horror and my mother begins to cry, covering her eyes from the scene before her.

My dad doesn't stop at the door, I thrash on the ground and he pulls me over both of my hands trying to pry his away from the roots of my hair, he drags me into the snow, finally releasing me. I shake as my hand gently finds the way to my burning scalp where I fully believe he has pulled out clumps of my hair with his harsh and unforgiving grasp.

From the doorway the rest of my family watches, Naomi has a hand covering her mouth her doe eyes brimming with tears of her own. My father disappeared into the house, it didn't take long to see what he was doing he slammed the window to make the bedroom open and began to throw all of my belongings out of the window. My pictures, my old soccer uniform, armfuls of clothes from my old beaten dresser, candles, books, paints, and shredded posters were torn straight off my wall.

"Dad, stop, I'm sorry, I'll get better!" I am on my knees, hands clasped together pleading with him. My skin is burning from the contact with the snow, I know that it must be a horrific sight to behold. White sundress, stained with wine, tangled hair, red-tinged skin, puffy eyes and incoherent sobs.

The snow makes everything so quiet the only sound travelling through the night are my sobs. I can no longer see my father in my bedroom, he is coming back down and somehow that is worse, he pushes past my family and throws the presents I was supposed to receive on Christmas morning beside me, I flinch at the movement.

"I'm sorry!" I plead like I'm bargaining with the Grimm Reaper for my life "Give me a job and I'll do it, just tell me what to do to get better!" The screaming carries through the night, alerting the neighbours in what was supposed to be a calm and quiet neighbourhood. Across the street, Joel turns on his porch light, squinting his eyes at the scene on the opposing lawn and trying to make sense of it. "I want to get better!" I shake with every sob. I could hear my dogs barking from the loud noises.

My dad shakes his head "You're too far gone, I didn't raise a fucking dyke," He is almost crying himself, he doesn't mourn for the daughter that he has but the daughter that could've been. The daughter who donned white every Sunday for church and settled down with a nice family man, a daughter who was holy but in this moment I am the purest form of holiness, born again from the violence of my father.

"Dad, I was created in God's image, why would he create his child to be this way if it was so wrong?"

"You're a fucking mistake is what you are," He seethes "Get off my property or I'm calling the cops."

"You still have my bags!" I scream and I watch him retreat to get them "Are you going to do anything at all?" I search my family for any sign of life but they all avert their eyes from mine. My father comes back out, and he throws my purse and suitcase on the lawn, this time both of them hit me, talking about kicking someone when they're down.

My dad begins to usher the family inside "I never want to see you again, get your ass up and start working, I'm not paying for you to fuck around with women instead of getting an education."

"That's it?" I cry "You won't come to my wedding or meet my kids? What about my funeral?"

"Not as long as you're with a woman." With that, he slams the door behind him and locks it. I let out another guttural sob, I've already cried so much that it's beginning to hurt within my stomach. I take a deep and shaky breath in, wiping the tears away from my eyes with my freezing hands, I'm sure to catch hypothermia if I don't warm up. I look up to see my neighbours all around either watching from their window or in the Miller family's case, the front porch. I'm sure that someone has already called the police.

"Let me in, I'm sorry!" I scramble off the ground and begin to bang on the door. Shaking the handle "Let me in!" This goes on for longer than I would've liked, I hammer on the door and scream as loud as I can but they all ignore me. Eventually, I stand by the window and slam my hands on it "Let me in or give me my fucking dog, you can't take care of him!"

I knew I was fucked when I heard sirens. It only made sense for the neighbours to call the cops at this disturbance.

I'm going to do you all a favour and tell you some useful information; when the police arrive and you don't wanna seem guilty, don't try to drive away from the scene because you might just end up getting handcuffed and shoved into the back of a police car for your childhood bestfriends family to watch from their front row seats.

"Prison life isn't for me," I wallow as I press myself against the bars of the holding cell. There are two other women in the cell with me and they both snigger. One of their names is Lucia, and she has bronze skin and brown hair so dark that it almost looks black with gold hoop earrings the size of my head, I don't know the other woman's name but she looks significantly older and has stringy blonde hair, the wrinkles of her face drooping.

"Honey, this isn't prison, you'll live another hour," Lucia sits on the uncomfortable bench, her arms crossed, she's kind of hot to be blunt.

"You reek of liquor though," Blondie cackles and I catch a glimpse of her rotting yellow teeth, what's the opposite of pearly whites? Golden nuggets? Something like that.

"Because I got wine spilled on me," I retort. I had been crying before they even placed me in the cell, wailing so loud that I was annoying the officers. I was so upset and starved for affection that I hugged the officer who detained me, babbling incoherently about how my life was ruined, I don’t even blame them for arresting me, I looked like a crackhead trying to break into a nice suburban home. “I'm not drunk."

"Could've fooled me," Lucia smirks, she's wearing a black tank top and skinny jeans. I wasn't a fan of skinny jeans but she was converting me.

I fell asleep hugging myself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches with chipped blue paint, when I woke up, it was Christmas, even though it didn't feel like it. I saw the snowfall outside of the windows on the other side of the cells. Lucia had told me just before she was released that they had the right to hold you longer over holidays, I wanted to weep all over again.

Blondie got removed from the cell too and I was all alone. The only thing that kept me sane was pretending I was Katniss or Lucy Gray, if they had survived the Hunger Games, I could survive this. I genuinely thought my life was over and I was getting sent to prison for hammering on my dad's door and screaming.

With each hour that ticked by, my profound sense of loneliness only grew. The sounds of distant laughter flitted through the hall and I am reminded of the world that lies beyond the metal bars. I wonder what my family is doing at this moment, every voice that I hear acts as a reminder of the love I had jeopardized. I lost Ellie, I lost Conner, and now I had lost my family.

I think about praying to god for a moment though I discard the thought. If he was real why did he let that happen to me? Maybe forgiveness and redemption were not necessary.

"Crybaby, call someone to pick you up," Officer Reid who initially arrested me and interrogated me began to unlock the cell, "Charges are dismissed." He had been calling me Crybaby since I was stuffed in the back of the police car and wailing uncontrollably.

"Like for real?"

He was in fact, for real. I was brought to a landline phone and my hands acted faster than my head, dialling the number of someone I would trust with my life, I just prayed that the number hadn't changed.

After making my call I was told to go to a weird booth thing to collect my effects, where an old and very judgmental woman dumped my few belongings out of an envelope. I wish I knew the technical names for this stuff but it's not like I've been arrested before this one off occasion. She looked at each of the items, stating what it was while she took inventory of it. "Smartphone, lipgloss, a single gold earring, and a cross necklace," She marks something down and then turns the paper around and holds out a blue pen for me to take "Sign here."

My phone had died already, I was missing an earring, and the cross had failed me, all I had left to rely on was my cover girl lipgloss. I sat in that stark grey room for what seemed like hours, everyone seemed miserable as I am, at least I wasn't the only person having a not-so-merry Christmas.

Holy shit, I was still disgusting. I was sticky and freezing, still in the wine-ruined white dress, there was still dried blood on my face despite my pestering Lucia to help me get it off. My hair is tangled, the bow that my sister had tied in lost somewhere in the snow. I haven't looked in a mirror but I know I look rough from the side glances that everyone is casting me. I can't imagine the dark bags beneath my red, puffy eyes to be any sort of appealing.

The sterile waiting room is beginning to get on my nerves, I flinch at every movement and hold onto hope that every person walking through the door is the person I'm waiting on. I try my best to avert my eyes from the clock so time doesn't drag on any longer than it already is.

By the time Joel gets here, the sun is beginning to set, his eyes frantically search the room until they land on me, I'm already standing up and walking toward him. "Kiddo, are you okay?"

My lip quivers and it feels like every awful thing I've ever felt is going to seep through my teeth. My head falls onto his chest but this time I don't cry, I think I've run out of tears "I have nothing ahead of me."

Joel doesn't ask questions, he just hugs me in return, resting his chin on the top of my head, there is the comfort I had been so desperately searching for.

He signs release papers and he guides me to his red Ford Explorer. When I called him I asked him to bring me shoes as I was barefoot when I was detained, being the number one dad that he was, he brought a reusable grocery store tote bag, containing a hoodie, sneakers, fuzzy socks, sweatpants and a bag of my favourite chips. I slip the sweats on underneath my dress while the hoodie goes overtop, I awkwardly unzip it and shimmy it off, stuffing it into the tote bag.

The drive back to his house begins and he turns on the radio, trying to make lighthearted chatter "Thanks for coming to get me," I say, my voice is quiet and I pull my knees to my chest like as I tend to do when I get nervous "You can just drop me off at my car and I'll be out of your way."

"Sorry, kiddo," He says, eyes focused on the road "You're staying with me tonight, I don't want you driving these roads in the dark and it'll be good for you to have a hot shower and a warm meal, get some sleep somewhere that's not a holding cell."

"It's just that-

"If you still want to leave in the morning that's up to you but you shouldn't end your Christmas alone," Each word seems so genuine "And you know I would gladly have you stay with me three hundred and sixty-five days a year."

I look at him, a soft melancholic smile on my face, "Thank you," I say.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sigh falls from my lips "What happened to all of my stuff that was left on the lawn?"

"Tommy and Ellie brought it all inside."

Ellie brought it back inside? Did she actually give a shit or was this something her dad ordered her to do? "Did my dad say anything to you?"

Joel shakes his head "Maria went barging on his door, those two were in a screaming match for a good two minutes before he locked the door on her. Hasn't been outside since, everyone in the neighbourhood has been coming by to ask what happened."

"Even Sharron?" I ask Joel, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Even Sharron," He solidifies. Sharron was the grouchy crone of the street, shutting down every party, cussing out teenagers from her porch, and yelling at barking dogs "She said she was worried about you." The windshield wipers painted rhythmic patterns across the glass, clearing a path through the soft snow that continued to fall.

"She's not worried about me, she's worried I'm on drugs and I'll break into her musty home to steal all of her hummels."

Joel huffs a laugh "I can't believe that I used to let her babysit you and Ellie."

"Me neither, you should be paying for my therapy." I tease.

He chuckles at my words, "So you're majoring in wildlife biology?"

"You remembered what I wanted to major in?"

"Of course I did."

"Hey, Mookie!" Tommy wraps his arms around me the moment I set foot in the door. He's called me Mookie since I was a little girl, it started when I couldn't pronounce monkey and thus Mookie was born. "Let me get a good look at you," He pushes me back just the slightest hands clasped on my shoulders "Look at that bruise you've got on your cheek, looking awful tough, like those greasers you used to read about."

"Look at that, Mookie grew up," Maria greets me with a warm smile, pushing Tommy away to hug me "Good to see you made it through prison alive," She jests.

Joel's house is exactly how it was when I left.

The air carried the familiar scent of firewood and lavender incense. In the living room, an inviting fireplace stood as the heart of the home. Its gentle crackle and the dancing flames provided a soothing backdrop to the overstuffed couches adorned with cozy blankets and throw pillows, worn from years of shared family movie nights. A well-loved rug covered the wooden floor, its pattern a mosaic of memories and spills easily forgiven and of course, a coffee table hand-crafted by Joel and intricately carved.

The shelves lining the walls were a treasure trove of family history. Photographs in mismatched frames captured smiling faces frozen in time, chronicling the evolution of Ellie through the years. A collection of well-read books, their spines creased and pages worn, stood proudly, offering a glimpse into the literary adventures that had unfolded within those walls.

The kitchen, the heart of many childhood homes, held the lingering aroma of Christmas dinner. The countertops, scarred from countless meals prepared and shared, were a testament to the love that had gone into creating family dinners. A worn wooden table in the center of the room bore witness to the countless conversations, celebrations, and moments of solace shared over shared meals.

"You know what, when I was around your age, I spent my fair share of time in the cooler, good to see you're taking after me," Tommy winks and gives me a hard pat on the back. Neither of them acknowledges the reason behind last night's events and somehow it feels worse than talking about it.

"We've just finished up making dinner, I'm sure you're hungry," Maria smiles softly, taking my hand into her calloused one.

"Yeah, I'm starving," I smile in return and trail behind the blonde woman to the dining table.

All of the plates are laid out with portions of food on each one, Ellie is sitting alone, spooning mashed potato into her mouth while she texts someone, she glances up at me and offers nothing more than a tight-lipped smile and awkward wave before going back to her phone. Tommy comes by with a tray of garlic butter rolls and uses tongs to add more onto my plate "Don't think I've forgotten how much you love these."

I grin up at him, I'm sitting in the same chair I sat in all those years ago when I Ellie and I would settle down after spending all day in the sun, Joel would ask us what we wanted for dinner and almost every time we would shout hotdogs.

"Good to have you back," Joel nods to me "House always felt a little empty without you."

I always felt a little empty without this house "Good to be back," I smear some mashed potato onto Tommy's famous garlic butter bread rolls.

I feel almost sick with nostalgia as I look around the dining room, Joel still had Ellie's crafts from elementary school hung up and if you look closely, you find little clues that I've left behind; proof that I once existed as a girl beneath this roof. There's a dent in the wall from the time I stood on my chair to catch a spider and accidentally fell over, my head hitting right into the wall, Ellie was laughing too hard to help me.

"So what school do you go to?" Maria asks me, washing down her pot roast with some ice water.

"Northridge actually," At my words, Ellie's head perks up, she's looking dead at me with a look of fear in her eyes.

"Oh, Ellie goes there!" Tommy smiles "She never mentioned that you do too."

Ellie is silently pleading with me, I know she doesn't want me to tell her family that she's been borderline tormenting me as my roommate and sending me to bed with tears in my eyes. I didn't plan on telling them anyway "That's funny, I guess we just keep missing each other."

Joel set up an air mattress in Ellie's room, that's when it became clear to me that he had no idea just how bad the fallout was between us. I hate to say that I missed her room and all of the memories we shared in it.

Ellie's bedroom resembled something of a teen guy who'd never gotten laid before. She had a navy comforter, her shelves were lined with comics and novels, I know for a fact that she'd read every single one of them. Her desk was always a mess, covered in pages of poetry and sketches that she had torn out from her journal. Almost every inch of her walls is covered in posters of bands, movies and her nerdy video games.

I was fresh out of the shower, finally in my clean clothes that I had dug out of my suitcase. I got to charge my phone too, there was an overwhelming number of messages.

D-Manz: HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCH!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU AND CAN'T WAIT TO PARTY WHEN WE GET BACK

Jesse: Merry Christmas, hope your day isn’t shit! 😁😁😁

Riley: Merry Christmas! Hope you're having fun at your new school!

Abs: Merry Christmas and stay safe!

Kayla: Missing you girl ☹️ so excited for that staff party!

Kit-Cat: Merry Christmas, don't have too much fun without me

Yara: Merry Christmas ❤️ this probably isn't the time but I was hoping you could send over your notes from the last conservation lecture, just wanna text you before I forget!

566-460-4374: I got your number from Kyle, this is Roderick, I saw you last night and wanted to check up on you, hope everything is okay and merry Christmas.

Lindsey: Hey, haven't talked to you in a while but my parents said some stuff went down, just wanna make sure you're okay.

Ellie: Lmk if you need a ride back to our place

Ellie: Don't know if you can even see this but I got all of your stuff off the lawn, I promise it's safe 👍

Naomi: I'm so sorry

Naomi: I didn't think that would happen

Naomi: I didn't know what to do

Naomi: I love you

Aaron: U good?

Naomi: Please don't hate me, I'm sorry I didn't do anything

Elijah: Sorry but I wish you didn't tell Dad that

Naomi: I'll try to talk to Dad

Elijah: Hope you're safe

Elijah: Call me when you can

Still, there wasn't any word from either of my parents. I replied returning well wishes and assuring everyone that I was okay, I turned my phone onto Do Not Disturb and began to watch the Hunger Games on my phone. The room would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the blue light from my screen and the gentle beams of moonlight gliding through the window.

Ellie walks into the room after she finishes with her shower, she's in sweatpants and an old hoodie that she got from a rodeo, I had the same one, and we bought them together. I glance up at her before looking back at my movie and pulling the quilt further up my body. "You still like the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah," I say, being as brief as possible.

"You should take my bed and I'll sleep on the air mattress," Ellie says while she ties her hair into a low ponytail.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"Seriously," Ellie is standing awkwardly at the foot of her bed, waiting for me to do something.

I shut my phone off and turned on my other side to face away from her "Just go to bed."

Ellie runs her hands down her face in frustration, she's starting to feel like an asshole "Please take the bed, it's the least I can do." I ignore her so she speaks again "I am begging you," She tells me bluntly "I feel like a dick and it would make me feel better if you just took the bed."

"You are a dick," I answer, she should've seen this response coming from a mile away.

"Please take the bed."

I sit up to look at her, frustration now boiling up inside of me "You're going to be nice now because you feel bad for me?"

"That's not why-

"It is actually," I tell her "This will last for a few days and then we'll go home and you'll be a cunt all over again, fucking keeping a list of everything I lay a finger on so you can say it's my fault if it breaks." She bites the inside of her cheek, that's her tell. Every time she does that I can tell that I've gotten under her skin. "You'll still act like you don't know me and I'm just some weird girl who thinks the world of you, I know what you say to those girls you have over, the walls aren't that thick." My insides ache from all of the screaming and crying of the past couple of days "And I know that I hurt you and I've told you a million times over that I'm sorry, you don't get to start having empathy for me now."

Ellie's silent again, she can't seem to find the words, so instead she slips under the covers of her bed, giving up. Minutes pass us, we've slept in this room together a thousand times but this time it's different, we don't share her queen bed and stay up all night watching the walking dead and talking shit about people at our school, we lay in the uncomfortable silence. We're grown but in this moment I still feel like a child searching for her mother's hand to guide her, I feel like my teeth still need to fall out so brighter, stronger ones can take their place, that the baby fat has yet to shed from my bones.

"I didn't know that you liked girls," Ellie said, breaking the silence "And I shouldn't have assumed that stuff about your parents." I don't respond to her, though she knows that I heard her. "I lied that night when you moved in."

"What?"

"I got all bitchy and said that you don't even cross my mind, I was lying," She's confessing to me as if I'm a priest "There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think about you."

I'm not doing well.

I want nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Ellie and just hug her until I fall asleep but the resentment I've garnered for her these past months refrains me.

"I don't know if you ever knew this, but back in high school I had a bit of a crush on you," She says and my break hitches in my throat "Hey, you there?"

'I don't know if you ever knew this but I turned myself inside out trying not to be in love with you.' I don't say that, instead, I say "Goodnight, Ellie, Merry Christmas."

"Goodnight," She mutters, and like me, she turns her body to face away from me.

I don't feel mature in the slightest, I'm kept awake, haunted by shame and embarrassment. Ellie had seen me only one night prior, on my knees begging for love. We may be cold and calculated to one another now but I remember when she was a little girl who overwatered her plants because she didn't know how to stop giving.

TAG LIST I just tagged whoever wanted a part two: @elliesaesp @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @elliesaturnsoftdrink @mikellie @melanie-watermelon @skylerwhitwyo

[cherryblessing]

📎— A DATE WITH SATORU?!

``some days, getting lost is the best way to find where you’re meant to be.``

The sun hung low, casting golden hues that spilled over the bustling streets, wrapping everything in a warm glow. Satoru tugged at your hand, his grin as bright as the day itself. His fingers interlaced with yours, the casual gesture somehow grounding despite his chaotic energy.

"So," he asked, tilting his head in that familiar playful way, "where shall we go?"

You shrugged, a laugh bubbling up as the scent of street food mingled with the crispness of the late afternoon. "You were the one dragging me out, remember?"

"True, true," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. His free hand gestured broadly, as if presenting the whole city to you. "But I thought it’d be more fun if we wing it. How about... ice cream first? Or wait, a movie? Nah, karaoke! I need to bless the world with my angelic voice."

"Angelically off-key, you mean," you shot back, grinning at his exaggerated gasp of betrayal.

He stopped mid-step, spinning around to face you with a mischievous gleam in his too-blue eyes. "You dare doubt my talents?" he asked, his tone mock-serious.

Without waiting for a reply, he slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. His hum—a hilariously offbeat rendition of the café tune drifting nearby—vibrated against you.

"Okay, okay!" you said through laughter, the sound bright and untethered. "Maybe karaoke later. For now, let’s grab a drink. Coffee?"

"Coffee?" he echoed, his brows shooting up as though you’d just suggested something profound.

"Yeah," you quipped, "so I can watch you drown yours in more sugar than should be legally allowed. Honestly, it’s impressive your teeth haven’t quit on you yet."

Satoru gasped again, one hand clutching his chest with Oscar-worthy theatrics. "Excuse me, I happen to have impeccable taste. My coffee is just—what’s the word?—enhanced."

"Sweetened beyond recognition, you mean."

"Details, details," he said with a dismissive wave, steering you toward the café.

Inside, the smell of roasted beans filled the air as the barista handed over two steaming cups. Satoru’s drink looked more like dessert, whipped cream piled high and drizzled with caramel. You raised a brow at him as he took a proud sip, the whipped cream smudging the tip of his nose.

"You’ve got—" you started, laughing softly as you reached to wipe it away with your thumb.

"Enhancements?" he finished smugly, leaning closer into your touch, his sunglasses slipping down just enough to reveal a teasing spark in his eyes.

"Sure, let’s call it that," you said, shaking your head with a fond smile on your face.

The two of you slipped back out onto the street, the day unfolding in spontaneous bursts. He led you into a cozy bookstore, immediately picking up the most ridiculous title he could find to perform a dramatic reading in his booming voice.

Later, you found yourselves caught in a light drizzle. Without missing a beat, Satoru popped open a rainbow-colored umbrella he’d "borrowed" from the lost-and-found at the café.

"You could’ve just used your technique," you teased, huddling closer under the small canopy.

"But where’s the romance in that?" he replied, grinning.

Every turn of the day felt like a discovery, filled with laughter, shared glances, and moments of quiet joy that seemed to stretch time.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft purples and oranges, Satoru turned to you. The golden light kissed his snowy hair, framing his face in a way that softened the usual sharpness of his grin. For once, his voice was quiet, almost tender.

"See? I told you. The best adventures aren’t planned."

You looked at him, his gaze holding a warmth that rivaled the fading sunlight. And in that moment, you couldn’t help but think: maybe he was right.

all writing, including poems are my own.

©cherryblessing.2024

[quitesins]

Prince!Shouto x Writer/Artist!Reader

Masterlist

Sfw, Female!Reader, Fantasy Au, random thought that I just wanted out of my head, mind the typos! Dialogue under the cut!

You’re a writer/artist, gaining quick popularity across the kingdom due to the satirical works you put out, particularly the ones where you satirise The King.

Your pieces are doing numbers. Sung in pubs, tacked to every board in town, even shoved into the arms of royal guards who can’t do anything but stand at their post and take it.

And you’re beaming, practically swimming in money and praise. You let a bit of it get to your head, suddenly dismissive of any consequences that come with mocking the royal family. Especially with your foreign pen name, feeling safe signing the end of each work while cozied up in your little house hidden away in the forest… that is until you get a knock on the door and… it’s The Prince.

[Or Shouto, crown prince, can barely hold in his laugh every time his father calls a meeting to discuss the crudely drawn pictures of him being pasted around the city. And god the first time he heard one of your poems? Being read aloud in the formal voice of one of the guards? It wasn’t just Shouto who had to excuse himself from the table, but his mother too, trailing behind him with a soft smile on her face.

He makes sure the guards keep any of the flyers that make their way into the castle, citing it as “evidence,” crucial to the investigations. Really he just takes them to his room, gleefully pinning them up. Even taking comfort in them on particularly cruel training nights.

He’s never been malicious, but when it comes to his father, he can be quite testy. Petulant for good reason. Your drawings of his father, the harsh scribbles accompanied by wretched songs, somehow he feels seen. Like the awful hate in his heart is warm and somewhere appreciated.

Shouto also thinks the way you draw his father as just a massive rectangle with two deeply furrowed brows is really funny.]

“You know…” Shouto speaks, unintentionally solemn. You prepare to be scolded on instinct. “You’ve drawn my hair on the wrong side.”

In his hand he raises the crumpled remains of one of your works. Even with the paper having seen better days, it’s undeniably yours— with it’s infamous juts of ink, harsh lines and messy splashes of colour thrown across the page. In your handwriting, there’s a vulgar poem captioning the drawing. Implying the prince to be a bastard, with a women killing smile and a surprisingly impish attitude.

Your signature printed in bright red ink probably doesn’t help your case either.

“The scar is accurate howe—”

“Give me that.” You snatch the flyer from him, crumpling it into your hand and tightening around it.

Shouto doesn’t protest, seemingly entertained by your sudden shyness. The words of [Pen Name] have been always been so crass, he had never expected you to hold such embarrassment. He doesn’t want you to, but he finds it amusing all the same.

“Look.” You don’t like his smile, it’s too soft, earnest. “If you’re here to execute me just do it!” There’s a wobble in your voice when you speak. Not from genuine fear of death, instead you sound like a sulking child. “I can’t imagine the king would send his son for any other reason..”

“Shouto,” He prompts. “I’d like it if you called me Shouto.” In the blink of an eye, in front of you is another flyer. “See.” He points to the picture of him, his name written in massive letters underneath.

“How many do you have,” You groan, snatching the paper from him again. His little disappointed pout feels like a win, it must have been his last. “Then why are you here?”

Shouto stares as if he doesn’t quite know himself. His eyes glaze over you, your cluttered room and to where you fists have finally softened in their grip. Then, like a spark alights behind his eyes, he smiles, responding with blunt determination.

“To be your friend.”

I wishhh I had the brain power to write full fics coz this au is so fun to think about… maybe if the fantasising gets too big to stay in my head I’ll write drabbles of random nonchronological scenarios, or not!

[beomie3]

txt on valentine’s day

bf txt x reader & fluff :)

♡choi yeonjun

this man would seduce the hell out of you from the start...

he was leaning on the hood of his car, a bouquet of red roses in hand.

he dressed up so nicely for you; a chic red sweater with jeans that hugged his legs so nicely and his hair styled in a way that left you frozen where you stood.

he would kiss your hand so sensually and open the car door like the gentleman he is.

when you got in the car you found that he had your name engraved on the passenger mirror because that was your spot and your spot only.

the back seat was arranged with pink gift bags and a sweet arrangement of all of your favorite candies/snacks.

when you leaned in for a kiss, his soft lips tasted of cherry chapstick; the scent of his cologne just driving you crazy. you just couldn't get enough of him.

"just wait for the present i have for you tonight, baby." he would say with a handsome smirk and kiss to your cheek before driving the two of you to a romantic dinner.

♡choi soobin

would treat you like the princess of princesses.

he would take you out to get your nails done and then proceed to melt when you give him head scratches/back scratches with your new nails hehe.

would have the apartment decorated for you top to bottom with sparkly decorations and little rose petals scattered around with candles and chocolates.

he would cook a delicious dinner for you and bake the most delicious pastries that literally had you convinced he was secretly a professional baker.

he would take the two of you out to an arcade later that night where you beat him in pretty much every game but he didn't care, he just loved seeing you so happy.

the one thing he did win was a huge bunny plushie for you!

"that way i will always be with you," he smiled as he handed you the plushie but you hugged him instead.

you took the cutest selfies together at the arcade <3

♡choi beomgyu

you two spent the day inside, just cuddling on the couch when an idea sparks his mind.

"let's make chocolate-covered strawberries!"

the kitchen is already a mess in not even 10 minutes of the two of you being in there.

he is chasing you around the kitchen island with a finger dipped in chocolate just needing to smear some across your nose as payback for doing it to him.

his hands would clasp around your waist when you stood at the sink rinsing off the strawberries.

later that evening he took you out to watch the sunset at the beach where the two of you sat in the sand, head on his shoulder as you stared off into the orange sky, talking about your futures together.

"do we want one or two kids?" he would ask, already knowing you wanted three, since it was his lucky number.

he brought his film camera and would capture the cutest most aesthetic pictures of your silhouette in the sunset, making sure to post it on his instagram <3

♡kang taehyun

this boy would write you a 10-page love letter about how much you mean to him, including little poems, doodles, and polaroids he pasted onto the pages :'(

a sweet picnic at the park on a sunny day under some shady trees was the perfect way to spend valentine's day with your terry.

he made you homemade kimchi fried rice, tteokbokki, and ramyeon in which he all packed in little pots and set out for you to help yourself to and eat until your heart was content <3

after eating you both laid on the blanket and stared at the clouds, you on his chest as he hummed little tunes for you.

the wind swaying through the trees, birds chirping, subtle background noises of cars passing by and people chatting, mixed with this angelic voice had you falling in love with him all over again.

"you're my favorite person on this entire planet, you know that?"

♡huening kai

kai would set up the cutest little movie night date at his apartment for you.

when you arrived, the couch was covered in plushies and fluffy blankets, a plethora of his hoodies draped over the arm of the couch so that you pick one to wear for the night.

being cuddled up in his arms was the ultimate comfort despite all of the comfy things he provided for you <3

your laughs could probably be heard outside as you literally were dying over the funny scenes in the movie, even popcorn flew everywhere as he could not control himself.

after the movie he brought his guitar out and sang an original he wrote just for you :)

he gave you a piggy back ride to his room where you would have pillow fights and late night talks, laughing until you fell asleep.

even though you are dating, you are still the best of friends above all else :,)

a/n: happy valentine’s day everyone!! <33 i hope u all have the best day ever, treat urself to something special today!!! :) love u so much! 💝 + thank you so much for over 700 followers it means the world to me 🥺

-valentine’s day divider credits: @f-loqweres and @gigittamic

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream as romcom male lead

Mark Lee ; a ONS that you met again.

Meeting Mark would probably be a funny occurrence. It'll be at a random bar, or an event, both of you are very drunk and flirted the whole night and ended up having a one night stand. He then wakes up to you gone. You're convinced that it's just a random one night stand but behold, you met him again. He's either your boss at the company who hired you recently or a close friend of the couple of the wedding you attended. Now the two of you are trying to avoid each other but the tension's there.

Huang Renjun ; holiday romance male lead.

Holiday romance are underrated! Renjun owns that small hotel in the middle of the town. You're a stranded girl who couldn't take the last train due to snow storm, so you have to book a hotel room. Renjun's accommodating, very accommodating that it felt like a special treatment now. At first, it was awkward and you're trying to create boundaries, but it doesn't exist in Renjun's vocabulary. "You're staying in MY hotel," he said. But soon, you get to enjoy your holiday in that small town and falls in love with Renjun eventually. 

Lee Jeno ; stranger who you met by fate.

It's that cliche first meeting where the moment the two of you made an eye contact, sparks happened. It may be in a train or on a busy carnival, it just happen that you two immediately reconnected. Jeno immediately approached you and asked for your number or for a date, which you agreed. You two clicked immediately and dated a numerous times. You thought that he's the one but conflict will arise, like you two getting into a huge fight, but don't worry, you two will end up together and grow old together.

Lee Donghyuck ; that office worker that you loathe the most.

This is a serious case of enemies to lovers. You hate Donghyuck up to his very guts because first: he's a competitive asshole who likes to compete with you, even if it's not necessary, and two: he's insanely good-looking that you get flustered whenever you two fight. You just know that you two will never get a long, but a project will force you two to work together and it was disastrous at first, but you two realized that you two are compatible, and at some point like each other. The project was successful but Donghyuck's more successful because he got to get you as his girlfriend at the end. 

Na Jaemin ; childhood friend who's unreachable.

You're childhood friends with Jaemin, but not literally. Your parents are closed so you two are acquainted with each other. He's nice, good-looking, and popular. He's also mysterious and probably a jock. A lot of girls likes him and you had a crush at him at some point, but it quickly fell off when you realized that he will never like you. But deep inside, Jaemin likes you! he just doesn't have the courage to approach you, so he ended up like he's ignoring you. 

Zhong Chenle ; popular guy in school who you don't find attractive.

Chenle is that popular guy in school who everyone loves. He's nice, friendly, and good-looking. You're that quiet girl who only has a few friends and you're okay with it. Until Chenle approached you one day and asked for a favor. Probably a school project or something to do with helping him write a poem or letter. At first, you're doing it for the money, but the more you hangout with Chenle, the more you find out that he's a genuine guy who is popular for some reason. You'll develop a crush on him but plot twist: Chenle liked you first. 

Park Jisung ; best friend who you thought was "platonic."

Jisung is that best friend of yours since birth. You two witnessed each other's first and are like siblings at some point. You two watched each other date other people and complication arised when you realized that you're in love with Jisung. It'll be during that time when you learn that Jisung's already engaged to someone. But in the end, he realized that he also loves you and goes after you. (Whatever happened to his ex-fiance, idk too, that's the romcom formula.)

[bleedinqdove]

Rocky Rickaby Smut Alphabet

A/n: Haven’t wrote smut in like a while so sorry if this is a bit rusty 😭😭 again, apologize if my writing sounds a bit awkward. This is just mainly to get some practice in :p

And also this is 18+ content so minors DNI.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Makes sure to check if you’re fine but after that good luck trying to get out of bed with him cuddling you. Just because he’s asleep doesn’t make his grip any less weak. A serial cuddlebug.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself he probably likes his hands the best. They allow him to play his violin so skillfully, and hold your own hands…and he also likes how they allow him to pleasure you too.

His favorite part of you would probably be your face. He loves seeing all your expressions, and reactions to things. He could admire your eyes all day if you let him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Likes to finish inside, only if you’re okay with it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Likes stealing your more intimate articles of clothing and saving them for later.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

When he first met you I think he wouldn’t be too experienced, but he’s a very quick and eager learner! Just show him what you like and he’ll master it in no time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that allows him to be real close to you and give him a good grip. He’s all about that skin to skin contact…or more like fur to fur.

Another honorable mention though is that he loves it when you sit on his face. Every time you squirm against his grip and cry out in pleasure just reinforces the fact that he’s doing a good job in pleasing you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I don’t think he’s totally goofy, but definitely not super serious either. I think he’s more lighthearted as this is a moment for the both of you to enjoy together. Just the two of you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well seeing as he’s an anthropomorphic cat…it doesn’t really matter.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When you two do have the time to properly spend time together he likes to be as romantic as he can, extravagant poems and all.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t do it as often as you think he would. Only when he’s really stressed or is unable to see you for a set of time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink. Please just call him a good boy and tell him he’s doing a good job :(

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Either in your bedroom (Since he lives in a car but he wouldn’t mind doing it there too.) or if you’re doing quickies he not one to shy away from risky spots.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you’re angry or passionate about something. Loves seeing that fiery spark in you.

Also if you’re in heat or he’s in a rut that gets him going pretty good.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Open to trying new things, but wouldn’t want to do anything too extreme that hurt you badly.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves both giving and receiving.

As stated before he loves having you sit on his face. Have him hold you in place or grind against his tongue, he doesn’t care as long as you get your pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Starts of slow but it doesn’t last long. Grips onto you so hard that it leaves marks when he’s pounding into you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t mind quickies, in fact with his busy schedule it’s probably the next best thing until he has enough time to actually do the real deal.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Definitely. When he’s particularly jealous he enjoys semi public sex, the fact that someone could possibly walk in on you two fills him with adrenaline. Sometimes he finds himself hoping someone DOES walk in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Has a ton of energy so could definitely go a good amount of rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Wouldn’t particularly care unless you wanted to try them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depends on his mood, if he’s feeling jealous he would be pretty unfair. However most of the time he just wants to give you what you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Rocky is VERY vocal and not shy about it either.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You two have been caught by Freckle once.

No amount of apologies and gifts can make him forget what he’s seen.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not big but not small either, just the right size.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Is down to go whenever you’re down to, but it does get higher when he’s in a rut or notices you’re in heat.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After making sure you’re fine he crashes pretty quickly.

[spikezonebby]

hi !! saw requests for song fics are open, may I request something angsty with fem!human!reader x megatron (idw) to ‘young and beautiful’ by lana del rey ? 🥹 <3 thank you in advancee

Young and Beautiful (IDW Megatron x Fem!Human!reader)

Word count: 1,070

Eighty years. Humans lived for a measly eighty years.

You change right before Megatron’s optics. Your hair grays, your skin sags, your bones grow thinner. Like the very universe was sapping you away from him. Vector Prime alone could grant him all the time he needed to write a poem about all of the moments he lived with you.

But how could he begin to write when every time he picked up his stylus, you were that much further from him? He longed to capture the feeling of you and immortalize it in a data pad, but then you’d touch your tiny, soft servo along his gray bottom lip plate and take him away. Remind him that you were his moment. Here for a second, gone in a blink.

You flare, you flicker, you fade.

You asked him once, if he’d love you even after you weren’t so soft. You weren’t so pretty. And your mind wasn’t as intact as it once was.

Megatron’s answer was immediate.

“Even once the spark of your life extinguishes, and I won’t stop even for a klik after.”

You may have lamented the way time and age changed you, but Megatron learns to see unique beauty in it. There was something beautiful in a life lived so long that you COULD age, it was a promise of peace and resilience. You lived, you fought, you came back again and again. A force so strong that it took time itself to put you down.

Megatron thought that was romantic. Not in the way of kisses in summer or dancing in the moonlight, but the cosmic way. In the way that atoms and space dust collect together and become new stars, or how he realizes, in the grand scheme of things, so, so many tiny and nearly impossible things had to happen for you to be his.

As you grew older, you grew more rapt by his poetry. You blamed it on growing old and sentimental, he argued you were always sentimental. You had always found it fascinating, but Megatron believed that perhaps you took some comfort in it.

“Do you think, because I love you… I’ll be there in the Afterspark waiting for you?”

You were resting against his neck cables, curled up between his shoulder armor and helm vents like a tiny glitch mouse. The ardent heat of energon pulsing up the lines of his throat felt good and helped soothe some of the arthritis in your hands. He had to rest his chin on his servo, propping his helm up at an angle to keep from squishing you, but he hadn’t the spark to stop you.

It’s a question that he’d pondered many times. For he who often pondered the nature of all things grand, the question of life after death was a philosophist’s energon and mineral tablets. 

“You do not have a spark,” He points out, shifting his helm minutely to a position slightly more comfortable for you to tuck yourself under, “So I would not expect you to be held to the same rules and expectations of Primus.”

“But, your God is real.” You raise as a counterpoint, “Any proof that various human gods are real could be considered dubious at best.”

“That is a point for the high queries of gods, but what of your lack-there-of spark?”

“What is a spark but life?” You offer, gesturing with your hands and making the round shape of a spark before your breast. Megatron loathed to move you from your warm perch, so instead he tips the data pad in his servo so he can see your tiny reflection. You look comfortable, hidden securely in his collar fairings. “Perhaps I DO have a spark, but it’s simply just a different form. After all, energy cannot be destroyed. It merely changes form.”

You chuckle, knocking your knuckles against his neck cables. “Julius Robert Mayer.”

“A human philosopher?” Megatron asks, setting his datapad aside to instead settle for reaching up and touching his digit to your lap. You take the hint immediately, and hold his huge digit between your two itty bitty hands. 

“Founder of the laws of energy conservation. Suppose most of us are philosophers in some way, though.”

You have to be, with lives so short and bright. Megatron keeps that thought private to himself, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You were feeling thinner and thinner these days. He hoped you ate well enough.

“So, what have we come to the conclusion of in this conversation?” You prompt, bringing back your point, “That there is no true way to say I do not have a spark, and that it’s ultimately far more likely that Primus and his Afterspark wait for me than say… The Christian or Hebrew concept of God.”

“For there are too many to count.”

“For there are too many to count.” You agree, “But it is the most commonly applicable and the most similar to Primus.”

“But,” Megatron clicks his glossa, a smile coming to his face. He loved it so  when he could have these in-depth conversations with you. “That is also dismissing that humanity is a much younger culture than Cybertron was. Perhaps you will find proof that these things are indeed true, or perhaps something you had not even considered. Perhaps in the afterlife, you will have a veritable plethora of ‘heavens’ to choose from.”

“Then I’d choose to wait for you.” You say, “Or I’d choose some religion where I’d be reborn and I could fall in love with you again.”

“You could live again, redo all of the things you had missed. Unmake all of your mistakes.”

“You talk as if I considered you a mistake.”

He feels your tiny, cool lips press to the pulsing line of energon that is connected directly to his spark chamber. You laugh, giddy and sounding just as young as you were when he first met you. There’s a well of emotion there in his chest and, if not for millions of years of carefully cultivated control, he might have sobbed.

Instead, he settles for curling the whole of his huge, warm servo against your body, and recording this moment for all of time. The moment he writes on his spark that you wanted to be his in any life.

“I suppose it is not a mistake then, if you do not regret it.”

[busylickingsatansballs]

Climb inside of me.

Nell Jackson x reader

Summary: Nell left you, will you give her a chance to make explain herself.

Notes: it only took me an hour, it's based off of a poem.

Inspired by the song Again - Noah Cyrus and XXXTENTACION

It hurt in a way you’d never felt before when she left, like grieving a missing limb. And then she’d died that pain was multiplied to the point of suffocation.

Then one night at the Talbot you saw her swan in the same way she left and your head started to spin.

She was back. And real, not something you’d made up to ease the grief.

You jump up and head for the front door heart pounding in your ears. Disappearing without so much as a back glance.

It killed her. So she’d asked Roxy to talk to you being too much of a coward to do it herself.

Roxy raced down the next day practically begging you to go see her. No doubt Nell had asked her to but you’d refused to let yourself even be entertained by the idea.

“she wants to see you ya know”  your head was already shaking side to side before she’d finished.

“She made her choice, she can just deal with it Roxy.” You had a very that was that tone as you fixed your hair, hands smoothing over your dress.

So Roxy didn’t waste her breath asking twice.

Fingers twist the material at your side, something you only did when nervous.

She’d frozen a second, hesitated like she wanted to say more but didn’t.

Knowing you were putting on a front deep down you wanted to see her, she relayed the message anyway.

The deflated look in Nell’s eyes when you refused to see her, broke her heart.

Muttering a sorry as she patted Nell in passing.

Nell couldn’t sleep that night. No matter how much she tossed and turned, fingers twisting in the sheets the gnawing, absence never settled.

Your face wouldn’t leave her mind.

You were best friends why couldn’t you forgive her?

Or at least you used to be before she ruined everything. There was no expectation of easiness but time had made her forgetful of your stubborn nature.

She’d get you back even if it killed her.

 You’d grown up together, she wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let you go twice.

You the educated daughter of a wealthy doctor and Nell the uneducated daughter of a tavern owner.

She had no idea what you even saw in her sometimes but my god did she want to be seen by you.

You’d even slept in the same bed growing up, all snuggled up close under fading candle light fingers tight around your waist and Nell tried to pretend that it didn’t mean anything.

The delicate way you brushed your fingers over her features, faces just inches apart leaning close as you whispered to avoid waking anyone.

You consumed her. Lit the spark in her chest, she burned for you.  

That burn bled into your everyday lives, she could barely contain herself when the local men tried their luck. It was met with a polite decline from yourself or Nell threatening to beat the infatuation out of any boy who mustered up the courage to try.

Nell sometimes caught herself wishing she was a boy it would make everything so easy.

She’d make a good husband. Nobody would ever hurt you, make you cry or take advantage of your kindness again.

She’d always known she wasn’t like most girls and you only made it more obvious.

The thoughts started to scare her becoming more intense as you aged. So she’d done the only thing she could and married Jackson leaving as soon as possible. He was a good man, had understood her situation. Understood he was her way out.

Understood she would never be a normal wife.

You’d been heartbroken, friends your whole lives and not even a goodbye.

One day she was there and the next gone like a ghost.

Nell Jackson had broken your heart.

Eyes darting back and forth between your notes ignoring the burn in your eyes,

Thumbs rub them blurry but Nell’s face doesn’t leave your mind.

Your stomach twists with excitement as you finish writing a possible cure for a disease you’d been working on.

She seemed to be a lot of places you were lately.

You grown suspicious, suspecting Roxy of foul play sometimes but lacked the proper evidence to accuse.

You always found an excuse to leave. She didn’t need us, didn’t need you.

You’d avoided Nell for weeks, Roxy thought it was silly you opting to drink at home throwing yourself into your work.

Couldn’t you see that they needed you? Nell needed you?

You’d see the girls in passing but not as before, it was hard and you missed them but you all needed the space you’d convince yourself to ease the guilt.

You leaned back in your office chair stretching tired limbs throwing the book to the growing pile as you enjoy the silence.

It would be dark in a few hours so you wanted to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight in peace.

You’d earned a rest. Earned a break from your inner torment even if just for a moment.

Being the towns doctors daughter, people came to you all hours for help.

 You didn’t mind of course.

You were a sweetheart and the town loved you for it, beautiful, clever and exceptionally wealthy you had it all.

Well except a husband. But who wanted one of those?

Men were loud, rough and selfish. None of which appealed to you, women were soft, warm and smelled good.

Life would be so much easier if you could marry each other.

You often caught yourself wondering what it would be like curling up next to someone soft and warm..

A shake of your head puts a stop to that train of thought.

Those thoughts were for later, when it was dark and you could pretend your hand  was possessed, working of it’s own volition under your night gown. The thoughts that clouded your mind were put there by the devil himself to torment you.

You caved every time.

Especially these last few weeks you’d find Nell’s face creeping in more.

Which only made it harder to look at her.

You’d had proposals from all sorts of men looking to marry into your family, the ones looking for love. The ones who wanted money, the ones who wanted to use your brilliance for their own selfish reasons.

You turned them all down.

 One of the few lucky enough to have parents that didn’t care much about marriage marrying for love themselves.

The knock on your door startles, bringing you back to reality. You aren’t expecting anybody but then again you suppose you never were.

You look though the peephole, squinting till Nell’s features came into focus.

You swing the door open with more force than needed, Nell blinks in surprise.

“what do you want?” you know you sound rude, you try not to care.

 Hurt flashes over her features but it’s so fleeting you could have imagined it.

“well a hello wouldn’t go a miss”  irritation brews in your chest but it’s overshadowed with the ache of missing her.

You wanted to cry, bury your head in her neck and never let go.

“if I wanted to say hello I’d have called.” You quip cheeks hot.

You turn before she can see heading back the way you came with Nell at your heels.

You think you hear her close the door behind you.

You hope she has, it was hardly the safest village.

It doesn’t take long before your back in your office sitting back at your work station.

“figured I’d save you the trouble”  she stops awkwardly in the middle of the room taking it all in.

The overwhelming rows of books, ingredients. Scribbled notes scattering the table, Nell doesn’t think she’s ever seen so many books in her life.

“that why you’re here, to say hello?” your words come out thin and pinched, you find yourself silently cringing at your own voice.

If Nell notices she doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah well, I missed ya”  her fingers tap against a jar as she stares at the contents.

Your eyes watch Nell’s frame, she moves slow eyes scanning the various bottles and jars filled with all sorts.

“your the one who left” you huff.

“didn’t feel I ‘ad a choice” she’s looking at you now eyes gazing into your own.

“a goodbye would have been nice” you mutter.

“m sorry”

 Nell continues to study your shelves and the silence stretches on.

Too long.

“don’t touch that” your across the room in seconds hand gripping her wrist tightly, alarm in your tone.

Nell jars slightly, looking at your grip on her wrist.

“It’s a paralytic.” You offer, her blank stare let’s you know she doesn’t understand so you carry on.

“you’ll be unable to move, paralysing your body and lungs eventually until you suffocate and die.”

“Cheery” Nell lowers her eyes and you realise with great embarrassment you still haven’t let go of her wrist.

Dropping her wrist you put away the deadly concoctions in sight as a precaution.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to die.” You offer lamely.

Nell’s heart sores at your words, you still cared. “I wouldn’t worry about that, I’m magic.” her joke confuses you tone awkward.

Nell knows she sounds lame but she doesn’t know what else to offer.

You meet her gaze properly, her eyes are so pretty.

“did I do something wrong?” Nell’s mind goes blank, how could you ever do anything wrong?

“Course not, why would you think that?” you grip your skirt fingers tightening and untightening. Twisting and pulling until you can’t anymore.

Nell’s grip tightens around your hand gently pulling the offending hand from your already creased skirt.

“because you never said goodbye.” and it sounds like the most childish thing in the world to be upset about.

But you are.

She pulls you in, slowly guiding you until your eye level with her chin.

You daren’t let your eyes stray further. Her hand moves to hold your own squeezing gently.

 “I didn’t want to hurt ya, I had to leave. Had to leave before I did something stupid,” and of course it makes no sense.

“Stupid? I don’t understand” you pull gently, Nell doesn’t let go.

Pushing your wrists down until she’s forced to let go you take a step back.

“Stop talking in riddles and just be honest with me.”

Her brain freezes and she finds her mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out.

And so she does the only thing that she can, she kisses you.

Her lips are soft, warm. Unskilled they work against yours urgently.

Heat shoots down your spine coiling tight in your lower belly as she pushes you gently into the bookshelf behind.

You think you hear something fall but you don’t care. She’s so soft, eager and my god does she smell good.

Gasping for air you reluctantly pull back, releasing a shaky breath foreheads pressed together.  

You think you hear here apologising but it doesn’t register.

How on earth could she be sorry for that?

“I shouldn’t have done that” it’s not an apology but close enough.

“why not?” Nell doesn’t have an answer, you didn’t seem upset which was a win. 

She steps back and you panic.

Nell doesn’t miss it, moving closer to soothe you. “hey I ain’t goin nowhere” relaxing, you nod and step closer.

“it’s going to be dark soon, you should stay.”

Nodding wordlessly, Nell finds herself hypnotised as you lead her upstairs.

Finding herself in your bedroom watching you undress for bed, Nell can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world perching on the end of your bed.

You blush turning to find her gaze already on you.

“you sleeping like that?” you gesture towards her outfit. Trousers, boots, hat and a gentleman’s coat.

Pulling off her boots and coat, she hangs her hat over your bedpost, you blow out the candle.

Pushing herself up the bed as you crawled to meet her.

Snuggling up you press your head against her chest as you both get comfortable.

Whatever happened, you had each other. You were home.

[psicheanima]

You might be too busy to see this, but I'm curious about your writing process. How were you able to come up with your poems and short stories? :0 Do you search for some inspirations as well? Writing poems and stories are something that I'm kind of struggling with but it's a skill that I wanted to master, I would like to practice it again sometime :')

Love lots!

I just love to write, so its mostly easy. But I like to write an idea down first let’s say — “A cold heart in an electrical outlet.”

Then I imagine a tone. Who is talking about this cold heart in the electrical outlet? Am I phrasing it like an angry wife? Is it an ad? Somber? Abstract? Infantile?

A infantile abstract ad could be something like → someone selling the sensation of the cold meeting the electricity? Or saying that the best way to stay warm (for cold hearted folks) is to do that action? So it could be like:

“Plug that cold, mean heart into a socket— feel the buzz-buzz-buzz of the mystery-wonder! Of excitement within. Feel sparks in the air as you give your chest, your love, your life to an unknown hole in the wall…..!”

That connects the emotionality of “heart”, is also abstract, but keeps the schlocky speech of advertisements, while also feeling a little infantile in its descriptions.

If it’s angry wife who’s also somber— why’s the wife angry? It’s with her husband, right? Does she feel he has a cold heart? Is it her heart that’s cold? Is she so mad he keeps bugging her to clean up after him, she just wants to take him and shove him into the fucking electrical socket—!!!!!!

“My dearest, that cold heart of yours is a barren wasteland, not even the spark from a thousand electrical outlets could ignite the embers of warmth inside you…. If such things even exist.”

:) I hope that makes sense

[yuutasdream]

Hello, cool event! I hope it is still open :)

Hobbies: Going on walks, stargazing, playing games, drawing and writing poetry.

Characters: Yuta or Toge

Btw the aesthetics of your blog are beautiful!

It was supposed to be a friendly outing, just the two of you. But somehow, you found yourself lying on a blanket under the stars, his arms around you, his lips on yours. You felt a surge of emotion that you couldn't deny. You kissed him back, softly, tenderly, letting him know how you felt. You didn't want this night to end. The next day, you wrote him a poem expressing your gratitude and your hope for more. You sealed it with a kiss, leaving a faint mark of your lipstick. You slipped it into his bag, hoping he would find it soon. You didn't have to wait long though. He called you that afternoon, his voice full of joy and excitement. He said he loved your poem, and he wanted to see you again. He asked you out for another date, this time with no ambiguity. You agreed, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You met him at the park, where he greeted you with a hug and a kiss. He took your hand and led you to a picnic spot, where he had prepared a basket of food and drinks. He looked into your eyes and said, "I have something to ask you." He took a deep breath and continued, "Will you be my partner? I want to be with you, and only you." You smiled and nodded. Then you kissed him again, feeling his love and warmth. And you knew this was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

Toge had invited you to the arcade for a fun date, and you happily agreed. You spent hours playing games, laughing and teasing each other. He was so sweet and attentive, always letting you choose the next game and holding your hand as you walked around. You felt a warm flutter in your chest every time he smiled at you.

When the arcade closed, he offered to walk you home. You enjoyed the cool breeze and the starry sky as you chatted about everything you had in mind. He made you feel comfortable and happy, like you could be yourself around him.

As you reached your doorstep, he gave you a hug and thanked you for the wonderful time. You looked into his eyes and saw a spark of something more. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, feeling a surge of emotion. He pulled away after a few seconds and smiled shyly. “I hope we can do that again..” you smiled back and felt your cheeks heat up. “just call me, I'm always ready for such wonderful dates”

Event status: closed

Thank you for joining 🤍

[littlejoyss]

𝚄𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 Day 9 - Christmas fair/market | Late shopping (together) @12daysofchristmas  Stray Kids - Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (Not Famous AU) Word Count: 1.4 k

At the beginning of December, you convinced your 8 friends to participate in a Secret Santa. Every one of them pulled a name out of a hat to see who they would get a gift for.

You got Hyunjin, your boyfriend.

You decided to get him something that reflects his personality and passions: a customized sketchbook with his initials embossed in gold on the leather cover. Inside, you added personal touches, including a handwritten note on the first page expressing how much you love and admire his artistry and a small set of art prompts inspired by your shared memories to spark his creativity.

To complement the sketchbook, you included a set of high-quality colored pencils in his favorite shades and a delicate charm bracelet with a tiny palette charm to represent his love for art.

Of course, that wasn’t the only gift you got him. But, it would be the one you give him at the Secret Santa exchange.

Tomorrow was the day of exchange, and you had your gift already wrapped and ready to bring.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, did not.

He told you while you were scrolling on your phone on the couch. It was 5 pm. You gasped, “You haven’t bought your gift yet?”

“You know me,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I’m terrible at remembering these things.”

You shook your head, half amused and half exasperated. “Hyunnie, the exchange is tomorrow! What are you going to do?”

He flopped back onto the couch dramatically, burying his face in a throw pillow. “I don’t know. Panic? Maybe write them a heartfelt poem? People like poems, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who did you get, again?”

“Han,” he mumbled into the pillow.

You laughed despite yourself. “Well, lucky for you, Han is one of the easiest people to shop for. You could literally bake him cookies and he’d be over the moon.”

Hyunjin sat up, his face lighting up. “Cookies! That’s perfect. He loves cookies. But…” His expression shifted into a pout. “We don’t have the ingredients.”

“You’re hopeless,” you teased. “Good thing you’ve got me. Come on, we’ll head to the store and get him something.”

“Oh! Have you heard about the Christmas market nearby?”

“The Christmas market?” you repeated, intrigued.

Hyunjin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I saw a poster for it last week. They’ve got stalls with handmade gifts, snacks, and, I don’t know, festive stuff. Maybe we can find something unique for Han there.”

You tilted your head, considering. “That’s actually a great idea. Plus, it sounds like fun. Let’s go!”

Hyunjin hopped off the couch, already reaching for his coat. “You’re the best, you know that? What would I do without you?”

“Probably show up tomorrow empty-handed and try to charm your way out of it,” you teased, grabbing your own coat and keys.

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

The two of you headed out into the crisp evening air, the streets glowing with holiday lights. The Christmas market was bustling with people, the air filled with the scent of pine and cider.

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled as he took it all in, pulling you toward the first stall he spotted. “Okay, let’s focus. Han would love something quirky and thoughtful. Maybe… a handmade music box? Or - oh, look at these!

He pointed to a display of hand-painted ornaments, each one unique. He picked up one of two snowmen in sweaters that were holding hands. “Aw! Us!’

You laughed, shaking your head. “Hyunjin, we’re supposed to be looking for Han’s gift, not ours!”

“But look at them!” he said, turning the ornament around to admire the tiny details. “They’re holding hands. It’s destiny. We have to get this.”

“Fine,” you relented with a smile. “But it’s coming out of your budget, not mine.”

Hyunjin grinned, triumphantly cradling the ornament. “Worth it. Okay, back to Han.”

As you continued walking, the two of you were immediately distracted again. This time by a stall selling miniature houses made entirely of gingerbread.

Hyunjin gasped. “Oh my gosh, look at these! They even have tiny frosting icicles!”

You leaned closer, marveling at the intricate details. “These are incredible. But, they’re not for Han.”

“Wait, what if I got Han a gingerbread house kit?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “We could build it together! It’d be fun, and he’d love it.”

“Not a bad idea,” you admitted. “But wouldn’t you just end up eating all the candy before the house is done? Those houses are a pain in the ass to assemble.”

“Okay, fair point,” he said, reluctantly putting down a gingerbread man he’d been inspecting.

Before you could steer him back on track, the sound of live music caught both of your attention.

“Is that… carolers?” you asked, craning your neck.

Hyunjin grabbed your hand. “Let’s go see!”

The two of you followed the cheerful singing to a small stage where a group of carolers, dressed in Victorian costumes, were performing. Hyunjin swayed to the music, humming along.

“This is so festive,” he said, grinning. “We should join them.”

“Hyunjin, you can’t just jump on stage,” you said, laughing.

“Why not? I swear I could’ve been an idol in a different life,” he teased, doing a little spin.

“Cute, but focus!” you reminded, tugging him away from the stage.

“Right, right,” he said, though his eyes lingered on the carolers for a moment. “Han’s gift. Let’s keep going.”

But as soon as you passed a stall selling hot cocoa with whipped cream piled high, Hyunjin froze again.

“Okay, last detour, I promise,” he said, pulling you toward the stand. “I need this to fuel my brainstorming.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but followed him, ordering two cups of cocoa.

As you sipped your drinks, you spotted a stall nearby selling quirky enamel pins. “Hyunjin, look! These are perfect for Han. He loves collecting pins.”

Hyunjin’s eyes lit up. “You’re a genius! Let’s pick one.”

Finally, the two of you managed to focus long enough to choose a pin shaped like a tiny guitar with musical notes swirling around it, and a pin with a joke on it.

“Okay, we did it,” Hyunjin said, holding the bag triumphantly. “Mission accomplished. And it only took, what? An hour of distractions?”

“One and a half,” you corrected, laughing.

“Worth it,” he said, grinning as he took your hand. “Now let’s get home before I spot something else.”

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

The next day, the group gathered in Chan’s living room, which was adorned with a beautifully decorated tree. Everyone was buzzing with excitement as they exchanged gifts, eager to see the reactions to their choices.

“Okay, let’s go in order of who’s sitting closest to the tree,” Chan said, pulling the first wrapped gift from under it.

The process was chaotic and filled with laughter as everyone unwrapped thoughtful, silly, or creative gifts. Finally, it was Han’s turn to open his gift from Hyunjin.

Han eagerly tore through the festive paper, revealing the quirky enamel pins Hyunjin had picked out. His face lit up as he held up the tiny guitar pin.

“Hyunjin! This is perfect!” Han said, genuinely delighted. “It’s so me. And this one - ‘Life is better with jokes’? Absolutely iconic.”

Hyunjin beamed, clearly relieved. “I knew you’d like them! It’s all thanks to the world’s best shopping partner.” He shot you a wink, earning a laugh from the group.

Then it was Hyunjon’s turn. He picked up his gift from under the tree that had you labeled as the gifter.

You beamed. “Merry Christmas!”

Hyunjin opened it carefully, his eyes widening as he revealed the customized sketchbook. He traced his fingers over the gold-embossed initials, then flipped it open to see the handwritten note and prompts.

“Babe, this is…” He trailed off, visibly moved.

“There’s more,” you prompted, gesturing to the box of colored pencils and the charm bracelet tucked inside.

Hyunjin carefully picked up the bracelet, his smile softening as he admired the tiny charm. “This is amazing. Everything is amazing. Thank you so much.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice. “It’s because you’re amazing.”

Hyunjin grinned and kissed your cheek, completely oblivious to the teasing “oohs” from your friends.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and a growing pile of wrapping paper as everyone enjoyed their gifts. You couldn’t help but feel proud as you watched Hyunjin flip through his new sketchbook, already sketching out ideas inspired by the prompts you’d written.