#a bit longer than I hoped because sometimes the first sentence just doesn't tell you that much

[officiallordvetinari]

Below are 10 biographical articles from Wikipedia's featured articles list, and then a poll. Which article sounds the most interesting to you?

Cai Lun (c. 50–62 – 121 CE) was a Chinese eunuch court official of the Eastern Han dynasty.

Eunice Newton Foote (July 17, 1819 – September 30, 1888) was an American scientist, inventor, and women's rights campaigner.

Georges Bizet (25 October 1838 – 3 June 1875) was a French composer of the Romantic era.

Gregor MacGregor (24 December 1786 – 4 December 1845) was a Scottish soldier, adventurer, and confidence trickster who attempted from 1821 to 1837 to draw British and French investors and settlers to "Poyais", a fictional Central American territory that he claimed to rule as "Cazique".

Hasan al-Kharrat (1861 – 25 December 1925) was one of the principal Syrian rebel commanders of the Great Syrian Revolt against the French Mandate.

Olive Morris (26 June 1952 – 12 July 1979) was a Jamaican-born British-based community leader and activist in the feminist, black nationalist, and squatters' rights campaigns of the 1970s.

Osbert Lancaster (4 August 1908 – 27 July 1986) was an English cartoonist, architectural historian, stage designer and author.

Tom Driberg (22 May 1905 – 12 August 1976) was a British journalist, politician, High Anglican churchman and possible Soviet spy, who served as a Member of Parliament (MP) from 1942 to 1955, and again from 1959 to 1974.

William Howard Taft (September 15, 1857 – March 8, 1930) was an American politician and lawyer who was the 27th president of the United States, serving from 1909 to 1913, and the tenth chief justice of the United States, serving from 1921 to 1930, the only person to have held both offices.

Wulfhere (died 675) was King of Mercia from 658 until 675 AD.

[fortunatelyuniquepeach]

Soap having an introverted/shy bestfriend headcanons

pairing: Johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

a/n: huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read or reblog my last post I actually nearly cried🫶🏼. also some of these are a bit longer than they should be I don't even know if they still count as headcanons lol.

It definitely takes you a while to become friends. It literally took you weeks to speak more than a few sentences, so taking months to become close friends was no surprise.

He's so used to talking all the time and you just listening, at some point it was the only way you could have a conversation. When you started talking more around him, he got so quiet and listened so well even if it wasn't something important, he was just happy to listen to you.

Definitely takes notice of all the things you like, he wants to be so close to you, so he tries to learn about all your favorite things. First time he talked about your favorite movie Infront of you and saw how your eyes lighted up he decided he'd do it more. He also always brings you your favorite food/drink.

The first time you hugged him it was on his birthday. He's had a small birthday party, only invited close people (you being included of course), and after everyone left and you finally gave him his present, He hugged you so tight to his chest, arms wrapped around you. He was about to pull way remembering you told him you're not so comfortable with hugs, only to be stopped by you wrapping your arms around his waist. He tried to act cool after you broke the hug but he was screaming inside. His birthday became more special to him.

He was hoping hugs would become a regular thing after, but they didn't. Although, his disappointment is long forgotten when you start giving him little touches. A hand on his shoulder, your knee touching his, sometimes you'd even let him lay his head on your shoulder.

He always invites you to new places and tries to introduce you to his friends. He understands how you feel about social interactions and public places, so he doesn't pressure you. He just wants his bestfriend with him all the time):

So protective of you! the moment someone says something like "do you ever talk?" he's already in their face. No seriously, he won't leave them 'till you get an apology. You try to tell him that it's okay and it's no big deal but he disagrees, annoying his bonnie is in fact a huge deal.

Since you hate public places so much, he starts inviting you to his place to hang out. The more it happened the more used he is to it, and at one point "hanging out" is basically each of you doing their own thing but in the same room together. You're so quiet he forgets you're there, so when you suddenly say something, he lets out a scream. It makes you laugh so hard the first time it happens, so he starts doing it on purpose.

You once decided to go over your drinking limit due to social anxiety reasons. Johnny saw a whole new you that night. He felt a little guilty enjoying you being drunk, you laughed loudly at his jokes and told him so many stories about you he's never heard before, he couldn't help but enjoy it. That night before he dropped you off at your place, you grabbed his face touching it for the first time ever and told him "I wouldn't trade you for the world, johnny". He had to leave you as quickly as possible because he knew he was about to cry, and he did. He was just overwhelmed with all the love he has for you; he couldn't believe you actually felt this way about him.

You two are literally opposites people get shocked seeing you together. You two are surprised as well, neither of you could imagine being bestfriends with someone who is nothing like them, but you're so happy you are. You're besties forever. 🫶🏼

[fictionalsownme]

Do you have any tips that you're willing to share when it comes to writing Wilford? Like, tips to keep writing him as in character as possible?

Hi! I’d love to share some tips!! 🥰 Wil is pretty hard to write for to be honest ^^" It can be easy to fall out of the rhythm of his character since he's just so strange of a guy haha but I guess that's what makes him fun too! each of the points ended up pretty long so hopefully I didn't get too ramble-y!

anyway! hopefully some of these pointers help out! 💞

some disclaimers really quick: all of these are my own interpretation but by no means does anyone have to follow these or do I think I'm right or anything like that! also, this is for wmlw!wilford since I pretty much only write for him so far :) let's get into it!

Wil has two modes depending on how grounded he is. The first is a go-with-the-flow airhead who has no idea what's going on and is completely unbothered by this. Everything just washes right over him, and he seems to think everyone else is like this too. He speaks in non-sensical idioms half the time, each sentence only barely connecting to the last. His accent is pretty over the top in this headspace too! The second is when he's a bit more grounded, probably leaning more Colonel than Wilford. In my writing, he gets like this when he's reminded of his past (similar to wmlw), forced to be present in the current moment, or emotional in some way, etc. His accent is less subtle and more typically british, and he speaks in longer, more logical sentences.

Stress the right words in his dialogue. This one might just be a quirk of my writing style because I love to overuse italics as you can probably tell haha but Wil emphasizes really random words when he speaks, so even just sprinkling it in every once in awhile I feel like adds a lot!

Don't forget his body language. In a similar vein to the previous point, Mark's performance of Wilford is reallyyy physical, and dependent on his mannerisms. How he moves his hands is a big one, they hang in the air or land in interesting spots. Same for his expressions, how he tilts his head, how he sits and walks around, etc. Don't forget to keep him moving often unless he's still for a specific reason (scared, thinking, etc).

Have Wilford 'MOTHERLOVING' Warfstache on standby. I play wmlw pretty much on a loop & on silent in the background while I write him if I feel like I'm struggling to get him right. The way Mark acts him is so specific with his voice and his mannerisms and everything so having the video to refer back to is super helpful even just to get the vibe down. Sometimes I'll watch the whole thing start to finish before I start my writing session, though,, maybe I'm procrastinating hehe

Try to balance his humor, sweetness, and attractiveness. This one is a little weird, and probably depends on your preferences and what kind of fic you're writing, but for me, these are the main aspects of Wil's personality I like to focus on. Like, let's not forget, he's totally ridiculous. But he also seems very sensitive, and you know... he's hot. He's a goofball! I found myself forgetting the funnier side of his personality while I was working on my fic so I figured I'd throw it in :)

He's not as violent as he used to be. so it's clear that Wil doesn't have the temper that he did as the Colonel, but I like to take it a step further and say that once we reach WMLW, he doesn't struggle as much with violence. This is a bit more headcanon territory but Wil's violence post-WKM was based in a (mis?)understanding that death isn't real in this world. I think that plus his desensitization to violence eventually brought him full circle all the way back around to just being kind of passive. He's not scared of violence or guns at all (ie kissing Abe's gun) but he doesn't really bother with them himself either. I just like him as kind of a harmless clueless puppy idk 👉👈 hehe

I hope these helped, and lmk if you have any more questions! I like rambling about my boy(s) kikiki 💞 thanks for the ask!

[grumpybunny-edith]

"Hey, uh, can I --"

"Oh gosh, I remember you two!" called the girl from behind the counter of the Hot Topic. I could've sworn her teeth and nails looked a little sharper than last time we met. I could tell she was studying me too, her eyes dancing between my ears to catch any growth. Her eyes got caught on Anabella's wings too, but only for a second. "You got some jeans last time you were here, right? Did your ears get longer?

"Yeah, this is… kinda the only place where I can get stuff that accomodates a tail. Oh, and, um, they tend to do that, yeah," I blushed. About a month ago she had spent like a half-hour helping me find pairs that would fit. I took a deep breath, feeling my tail shake anxiously behind me. Ana giggled at that, which frustrated me, only making it wag more. Why bunnies had to have the most embarrassing tails on the planet was beyond me, but getting to hear it laugh was worth something. I was just thankful the cashier couldn't see.

"It's so shitty how few options y'all get," said the cashier like it had anything to do with her. I turned knowingly to Ana, who just ruffled her feathers and shook its head. "Anyway, can I help you find anything?"

I grinned, trying to hide my anxiety, and held a plastic bag out to her. "I, uh, need to make a return." She took the bag, opened it, and raised an eyebrow.

"Are these not the jeans you just bought like, three weeks ago?"

I blushed and tried to hide behind my ears. They're not quite long enough to do that yet - the best I could do was hide a bit of the blush creeping up from behind my mask. Being covid-conscious is cool, but really I just prefer to keep it covered so people hopefully fill in the gap with something a little more affirming than what's under it.

"Yeah, they just… Don't fit anymore." I gestured to the snug black sweats I was wearing. I had cut a hole in the back for my tail like I'd done for most of my pants, and turned to the side to show her. Ana would rib me for this choice later, calling me a show-off, but I swear it's not like that. That decision had nothing to do with how cute the cashier was.

"Ohh, because of the medication?" She said, "Or have you just been hitting the squats too hard?" I'd done a lot of wishing my face had the full-coverage fur some other girls have, and the amount of blushing I was doing wasn't making that wish go away. I wanted to look cool; I needed to look cool. That was at least fifty percent of the reason to even be in this shop in the first place.

"A little bit of both," I said sheepishly.

The girl behind the counter looked over her shoulder to nobody, then leaned in. "Technically, our policy doesn't allow returns after two weeks,' she started in a whisper. "But! That policy is bullshit and unfair and you seem cool, so no worries! It's important to be a good ally, or whatever."

After we got the returns handled, she helped me find some new ones, cut me a discount, and assured me I could return them whenever I needed to. At the rate I've been developing at, that's quite the relief. Anabella mostly floated around the conversation, speaking up only right as we crossed the threshhold to leave.

"You know she was staring at you constantly, right bestie?" it said matter-of-factly, adjusting a couple askew feathers. The task seemed to frustrate her quickly, and she never complained when I realigned them instead. Gave me something to do other than be a blushy mess.

"Yeah, people stare, whatever," I said quickly.

"You know what I mean." She shook its wings out and pulled them in.

"I'm gonna count it as another point for her being one of us," I chided, hopping along a step ahead of Ana. I wasn't not hoping to garner a little more attention.

"Sometimes people are nice and gay, Edith," said Ana, its voice like a hand waving my sentence away as she made the same motion with her actual hand and wing in tandem.

"And sometimes they're nice, gay catgirls. When have I ever been wrong?" My tail fluttered unconsciously - I was still getting used to it - and I crossed my arms triumphantly.

"When you decided to spend $200 on a bunch of pants that you knew wouldn't fit a month later," Ana giggled. My new ears were too good at picking up that noise; I nearly melted into it, but managed to stay strong.

---

Thank you @flightlessbirdgirl for letting me write with your character 🩶

[inkybloom-luv]

Words Unsaid 11, Stay

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

Alright!! Part 11 is finally here! Fluffy times ahead but first you must pass a little hurdle in this one, good luck! And also this chapter is Krennie's motivation <3

It's a bit shorter tha I would've liked but I hope everyone enjoys it! <3333

Tw: vague mention of death, ch.4 spoilers (?)

1k+ words.

Part 10 Masterpost Part 12

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

It had been a few days since the fireworks festival. A few days since Jamil's oh so shocking revelation. Since he realised he was crushing on the prefect, on Inky. Honestly, he never expected to fall for anyone, which was why he was slightly at a loss when speaking to her. He just doesn't know what to say to her sometimes, and he's been spacing out during his tasks. Nothing major of course, and only luckily in moments where his body had the movements down well enough that he could do them subconsciously. Even right now when he should be sleeping he was thinking about her. He really couldn't help it. But. He had to. He was not a free man. He'd surely have to surrender her to Kalim, but surely he couldn't take her, right? Well. He could, all Kalim would have to do is say the word. And Jamil was not ready to risk that, if anything he'd want her all to himself, by that he meant no risk of having to give her up and lose her to someone else.

Jamil should sleep, he really should, it's getting rather late. How much time did he spend thinking instead of sleeping? Though if he slept now he'd probably dream of her. How they'd dance together, how he'd hold her and perhaps even kiss her, from her knuckles up to her lips only to rest his head on hers and keep her by his side. The thought alone made his heart flutter, so much so that he could no longer try to sleep. Well.. it was late and no one should be awake.. alright. He picked up his phone off the charger and took his headphones with him. He pulled a hoodie over his head, he'd leave his sweatpants on. Speaking of, wasn't that the pair he'd lent Inky a while back? She must've put it in the laundry for him.

He began walking, out of the main building through the desert, it was chilly out, but warm enough. Just warm enough that he could go without a jacket or similar. A little bit away from the building he stopped, taking in his surroundings before nodding to himself and picking a song. Jamil had to get his feelings out, so dance it was.

Unsurprisingly this became a more regular occurrence, getting more frequent the more he learned about the prefect, her love for things and her dreams. Her wishes and her quirks. When he couldn't sleep because his heart ached and longed for her love, he'd go dance, if all was quiet of course. One night however, after just arriving back in his room and getting situated a knock sounded from his door again. Who was knocking? At this hour?

With more than reluctance he opened his door, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply.

"Who wants some-", he stopped speaking mid sentence as he saw who it was. Inky. And she looked shaken.. no pun intended, as she was actually shaking. She looked at Jamil with tears in her eyes, others rolling down her cheeks. She could barely croak out a sorry for him. At least that ruled out the meltdown, but still. Jamil felt his chest tighten as he let her into his room. She sniffled and sobbed, trying her best to not cry as much.

"Inky, قیمتی, what happened? Are you in pain?" Jamil asked her, not even realising what he'd just called her, precious. He'd thank the language barrier later, he was relieved that there was nothing painful making Inky cry first, as she shook her head.

"'m sor-ry..! 's stu- stupid.." She muttered weekly, before Jamil patted her head, stepping closer and taking one of her hands for a moment.

"Nothing is stupid. Not when it has you crying. Now please, tell me what brought you to tears.." He told her as she raised her head to look at him. She sniffled, taking him in her arms instead at first and squeezing very gently, listening to his heartbeat.

"I.. I had.." She started but got interrupted by her shaking breathing. "I had a dream..! A-and- and you.. I didn't save you.. you d-died in my ar-.. arms.." Inky stuttered. Jamil's eyes widened thanks to that, putting his arms around her properly, brushing a hand in circles gently on her back. She appreciated it, that she could hold him.

"Luckily it was a dream. I'm here. And I'm alive. My heart, can you hear it?" He whispered gently, a rhetorical question. He knew she could hear it, if the harsh pounding in his chest was any indication. Still she nodded against his torso, holding onto him tighter as she felt her knees buckling. He noticed and he held her up, his one hand going down to her thigh, a silent signal for her, so that he knew he'd pick her up. She understood, luckily, as he moved her to his bed and sat her down. He moved behind her after giving her a juice pack he'd started keeping in his room. While she drank and tried to calm herself, he treaded his fingers through her curly hair. It helped massively. A little while later she finally stopped crying.

"Jamil..?" Inky said, barely whispering. She was lucky it was this quiet. "Thank you.. again.. you're a wonderful guy.."

It was quiet before Jamil spoke up. He may have nodded in acknowledgement of her previous statement but as she moved to get up his hand moved quicker than his mind could process, holding onto her shirt for a moment.

"Stay," he muttered, which caused her to look back. "Stay here.. until tomorrow.. please..?" He asked her as she simply looked at him for a moment, surprised by his boldness, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks now. But she didn't say no. In fact, after putting the joice box that she emptied on the floor temporarily, she nodded.

"Can I? Because I'd like to.."

"Yes.", he confirmed one last time, "please, stay." Because for tonight he could hold her. He could keep her close as he wished. And not have to let go til morning.

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

Translation is in the story,, but! قیمتی means precious!

@krenenbaker

@az-flaming-sword

@escaaaaaanyeh

@dove-da-birb

@leonistic

@cy-inky

[colgatebluemintygel]

hi, do you have any tips on cutting words down in chapters. I tend to go way overboard but I really struggle with cutting scenes because I feel like the scene doesn't flow properly without what I've already written

hello anon !!

i'm definitely no expert, but my main advice is really just to edit edit edit. i spend a long time editing, and it takes me longer to edit than it does to write. if you feel like you’re cutting out so much that it doesn’t make sense, try to work on a micro level, trimming down words. plucking leaves off the tree instead of branches! quite often, i'll spend an hour just working on a single paragraph, adjusting the words and phrasing until i feel like i've gotten as much out it as possible. my first drafts are always full of words like 'that' and 'really' and 'almost', and they're usually the first to go. i also look out for sentences where i'm just repeating myself (this happens a lot). tied to this: show don't tell! these kinds of writing rules aren't law and defo don't Always apply, but i do find them helpful to keep in mind as i'm editing. i quite often will find moments in my writing where i've 'told' something (ie: remus is kind), and then have immediately followed it up with by 'showing' (ie: an example of remus being kind), so i try to cut out the 'telling' as much as possible.

if you’re finding a scene boring to write, change it! up the stakes, add conflict (even at a micro level), even write a way around it if you can! sometimes i get stuck in the mindset of trying to include every little thing… but you don’t need to! if you don’t like it, change it. kill it. eat it

i love stripping back dialogue. in the first draft, i’ll just write the characters saying exactly what they mean, and then as i edit, i’ll try to adjust the words until that meaning has been pushed back to the subtext (esp in emotional scenes). usually this means that conversations end up shorter! less words are spoken! but i do think they're more effective for it. (sidenote: i would really love to go back and apply some of this advice to wiwhw, because i feel like a lot of the dialogue is v on the nose lmao.. but! i'm learning as i go x)

i also try to remind myself that simplicity isn't a bad thing. it’s actually a v good thing! not every sentence needs to be complex or elaborate. i find it helpful to keep in mind that ultimately i'm trying to communicate with the reader. i’m trying to tell a story! so i aim 2 strip back anything that inhibits that

you know what they say: kill ur darlings <3 for each fic i have a lovely little graveyard where i dump sentences and scenes. they are my darlings;;;; i treasure them and i never like seeing them go. but i also never put them back in after i've taken them out, so as much as it hurts, it works </3

lastly, re: flow! before the final edit, i like to leave the chapter for a few days without looking at it so i can come back to it with fresh (ish) eyes. this part usually reveals awkward phrasing, which i often miss when i'm in the thick of editing because i got used to it !! (i also have a tendency to be wordy;;;; giving myself a bit of space helps me see areas where i can use a few words instead of many !)

i hope this helps xxxx again, i'm no expert and everyone has their own ways of doing things, but these are some tips i find helpful! MWAH happy writing <3333

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Twice Shy

Pairings | Preserum!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Warnings | smut, loss of virginity, fingering, implied oral (m reviving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Word count | 2.8k

Summary | you and Steve lose your virginities to each other

Masterlist

Exuberant. If Bucky had to describe the look in his best pal's face, he'd have to use the word exuberant.

When Bucky had suggested the double date, Steve had groaned - long and drawn out - but had relented with a deep sigh. His agreement didn't stop the man from dragging his feet the entire way there, though. A habit that Bucky had come to accept if he was to ever get Steve to meet a dame.

And this one, Steve seemed rather enamoured with. Well, that was an colossal understatement. Steve was completely and utterly besotted with her. The dame was beautiful, even Bucky could admit that. She was the kind of beauty that was often overlooked; it's innocence often snuffed out by the more...sexy girls that filled the dance hall.

Steve's hands rested on your hips, slender fingers curled against the soft fabric of your dress as he slowly swayed with you. You probably looked just as out of place and awkward as him, your hands tentatively rested against his shoulders as your eyes darted about the room.

"Y/n?" Steve mumbled, eyes centred on your lips. Your eyes snapped to his, baby blue calming as you bit your lip.

"Yes, Steve?" You murmured, starting to feel slightly flushed as the boy leant closer.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" Steve pondered, eyes searching your face for the usual disgust or pity that came with that question whenever he asked it. But he didn't find any.

Instead, you nodded. Sure and slow. Steve leant in, a small smile playing on his pink lips as he leant closer. The feeling of them fluttering over your cheek, plump and slightly wet nearly made you swoon. It lingered, his long eyelashes feathering against your skin.

Then, he pulled away. You dropped your hands from his shoulders as you felt your cheeks grow hot and your skin burn deliciously where the kiss still tingled. Steve stepped away from you abruptly, a pink flush spreading from the tips of his ears to under the collar of his shirt.

"Thank you, for teaching me how to dance." Steve muttered awkwardly, finally meeting your eyes with his. You smiled warmly at that.

"It was a pleasure. Goodbye, Steve." You mumbled back as you began to walk away, by Steve's thin hand around yours stopped you. You gave him a puzzled look.

"I hope we can, uh, do this again sometime? Maybe grab some food?" Steve asked, scratching the back of his neck as his body caved in with the nerves.

"I'd love that." You beamed brightly, your cheeks growing even hotter as Steve tentatively lifted your hand to his face and brushed his lips across the back.

"Until next time, then." Steve whispered and you bit your lip.

"Until next time." Then you walked away, and Steve sighed. Something caught his attention, a grinning Bucky out the corner of his eye. Steve breathed a little laugh, but the goofy grin on his face would not go away.

The next time Bucky dragged Steve out with him, you came. And the time after that, the time after, and the time after that. It was their thing now, Bucky often had a new dame on his arm whilst both and you and Steve grew more confident and comfortable around one another.

Cheek kisses were now a common occurrence, as well as Steve's skinny arm wrapped around your waist or his small had grasped in yours. He always had to be touching you somehow in public now, a claim that you were his and that everyone else should back off.

Your ma said it was unusual, that he was a) so skinny and b) that he was so possessive. But you found it endearing, it was just his way of telling others you were already his.

It was that night that Steve finally took you back to their apartment, Bucky having shipped off to England merely a week prior.

It was bittersweet, really. You knew Steve planned signing up again, planned on enlisting. You knew this was going to be his goodbye, his final hurrah with you before he most likely never saw you again.

And quite honestly, you'd made peace with that. The man you'd come to love was perusing what he loved, and even though that didn't seem to be you, you were happy for him.

"So where are you gonna be from this time?" You pondered as Steve fiddled with the key, finally jamming the cool metal into the lock. He hummed as he turned the key, the door sliding open as he tilted his head in thought.

"I was thinkin' Jersey, but I'm not quite sure yet." Steve remarked as he strolled into the small flat, you closely on his heels as the keys were thrown onto a brittle-looking table with a jingling clang. "I just wan' to get out there, ya know? Men like Bucky are riskin' their lives and I'm here, unscathed. It doesn't seem right."

You nodded solemnly, but the bright smile still stayed firm on your lips as Steve led you through the small apartment.

"I just hope I can be in the 107th, you know? Fight with Buck and just make my dad proud." Steve sighed, bordering on dreamily as he flopped down on the sofa - which was clearly in need for some heavy TLC.

You stood awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you as Steve twiddled his thumbs in his lap.

"I just hope that we win, is all." He finished and you gave him a bright smile.

"Well, they won't without you, soldier." You hummed and Steve's baby blue eyes peered up at you through thick lashes.

"You think so?" He pondered and you placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Truly. Our country needs a little guy - someone who will fight for those over there rather than those he had at home. As much as we're struggling..."

"There's men dying and no one seems to care." Steve finished your sentence and you nodded.

"Exactly." You muttered as you perched yourself of the sofa beside his skinny frame.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve's low voice mumbled, eyes flicking precariously between your lips and your eyes. Your breathing shallowed, and your heat slipped a beat.

"You know you don't have to ask anymore, soldier." You murmured, turning your face slightly to the side to giving him access to your cheek. But thin fingers grasped your chin in a soft hold, tilting your head back towards Steve as an amused glint flashed in his eyes.

"That's not what I'm asking." Steve's voice rumbled.

"Oh." You paused, hope glimmering in your eyes and Steve couldn't help himself.

His lips were soft against yours, if not a little chapped. It was a little messy, clumsy perhaps, but to you it was perfect. When you pulled away, Steve's lips were spread into a gleeful grin, eyes alight with joy.

"That was..."

"Awful." Steve cut you off and you were both set into spinning fits of laughter. You fell back against the sofa, hands clutched over your stomachs as your wriggled.

"I'm sorry. There are probably better first kisses than me." You said once you began to calm down, wiping the little tear that'd escaped from your cheek.

"You're the only girl I want to kiss." Steve whispered, head lolling to the side to look at you again. You swallowed thickly, eyes finding his lips again - slightly swollen from your disaster of a kiss.

You stumbled back together, knees caving as the backs bumped into the mattress. You and Steve fell together, arms still wrapped around one-another as you both giggled, his lips pecking against yours repeatedly.

You pulled Steve into a longer, deeper kiss - hands cupping his cheeks as his supported himself over you on the bed.

"How should we...start?" You mumbled against his lips, pulling away slightly and opening your eyes to find baby blue gazing down on you lovingly.

"Buck said I need to get you wet? But I'm not sure how I'm meant to, uh, do that?" Steve said doubtfully, both of you bursting back into giggles again as Steve's head dropped to rest in the crook of your neck.

"Maybe you're supposed to use your fingers?" You suggested, lifting a hand and wiggling your fingers. Steve blew a raspberry into your neck as he laughed, your own head through back as you wriggled beneath him with laughter.

The goofiness seemed to cease for a moment as Steve took his head from your neck, meeting your eyes with a soft stare.

"Are you sure about this?" He murmured, eyes loving. You nodded, lip trapped between your teeth.

"Yes." Steve sighed, ducking his head for a moment.

"But are you really sure? I mean, you'd be losing your virginity to, well," Steve looked down at himself, scrawny and small, "me."

You giggled, rubbing your fingers through his blonde locks, manoeuvring them away from his face.

"Of course I want it to be you, I wouldn't be here if I didn't, silly." You expressed, placing a quick kiss to his lips before looking up at the man through your lashes.

"I just need to know you're sure about this, doll." Steve mumbled, gaze burning your skin.

"I'm sure. D'ya know why?" You murmured, and Steve shook his head. "Because I love you." You uttered the words for the first time.

Steve's head snapped up. He couldn't believe it. He never thought he'd ever hear those words falling from a dame's lips, not about him.

"Y-you mean it?" He whispered, voice cracking. You nodded.

"Every word." Steve's heart swelled, his lips spreading gorgeously into a sweet smile.

"I love you too, y/n." Steve beamed, and his lips were on yours again. It was clumsy, sort of messy with inexperience but it was all you wanted in that moment.

Steve's slim fingers began to trail down your body, hiking your skirt around your waist so he could finger the band of your underwear.

"And you're sure about this? We can wait if you're not ready..." Steve asked again, browsed raised.

"Are you sure it isn't you that's not sure? It's fine if you're not Steve, we can wait until you're ready." You countered pulling back from him. Your thumb smoothed over his cheek, a touch that he nuzzled into.

"I'm sure, just a little nervous is all." Steve reassured. You smiled and pecked his lips.

"Wanna know a secret?" You whispered against his mouth and Steve nodded, a small movement. "I am too."

With that you were both laughing again, your legs kicking as Steve's fingers tickled over the inside of your thigh.

"Steve! Steve stop! It tickles!" You panted and gasped through your laughter, Steve's lips curled into something of a triumphant smile against your neck as he slowed his fingers.

"Mmmm, only because I love ya." Steve murmured, placing a kiss to the base on your neck before pulling away enough to help you take your blouse and skirt off.

He froze, ogling your body as his eyes flickered over your brassiere, your heaving chest, your panties, your slightly spread thighs.

"You're so gorgeous, sweetheart." Steve murmured and you giggled.

"C'mere." You mumbled, hooking your fingers into the collar of Steve's shirt and pulling him down on top of you again. He squeaked in surprise, but soon a breathy chuckle was slipping through his lips and onto yours.

You moaned when his fingers tugged down your panties, tracing your lips. He was mesmerised, eyes wide as he watched himself play with your folds.

"Steve!" You moaned when his fingers fluttered over your clit, your thighs snapping shut and your back arching. He pulled away instantly, worry in his beautiful eyes.

"Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?" His voice was panicked, filled with the dread of hurting his best girl. You shook your head, taking his hand in one of yours and guiding his fingers back to the same spot.

"No. It felt good. S'good!" You were moaning again, his fingers finding their way over your clit again in little circles.

You pulled away, lips shiny with spit and precum as your tongue smoothed over then. You moaned at the taste of him, Steve's musky sent lingering on your tongue.

"Where did you learn that?" Steve was breathy, voice merely a pant as his chest rose and fell rapidly. His face was red, pleasure still warped over his perfect features as his elbows propped up his thin frame. You smirked, lips curling up as your wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Bucky teaches you about women, Angie teaches me about men." You hummed, placing a chaste kiss to each of Steve's hip bones before crawling over him.

"Well you're very good at it." Steve gasped, eyes sliding shut when he felt your lips on his. You giggled, the laugh flirtatious when you felt his hands on your hips.

He flipped you over, rolling across the bed in the limited space it offered as you both laughed. He placed small pecks all over your face, lips brushing lovingly over your forehead, your cheeks, your chin, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips.

You deepened the kiss, lips locking as your arms secured around his neck. Your hips jumped a little when you felt his tip bump your clit, still slightly sensitive from the orgasm he pulled from you with his fingers. You squirmed, Steve smirking against your lips.

"Steve, please, I need you inside me." Your lips formed a round the words desperately as he pulled away. His face dropped into seriousness, eyes glinting with question.

"Are you sure, doll? We can stop if you need to." You loved how sweet he was, how caring he was. You shook your head, lip tucking between your teeth.

"Please." You repeated, hand cupping his cheek as Steve nuzzled against your touch.

"Okay." He brought a hand down, tickling from your throat to your stomach as he did so. You wriggled beneath him, shrieking with laughter as he chuckled.

You settled once he stopped, nothing but love in your eyes as you watched the way the little crease appeared between his brows, which were furrowed in concentration as he lined himself up with you.

You both moaned when he pushed forwards, hips snug against yours as his length filled you up. His size was impressive for his body, the slim man hiding a good 7 inches.

Steve stilled, breath heavy as you panted against each other's mouths. You could feel the stretch, the slight burn tingling through your walls as you whimpered.

"You okay? Should I- should I stop? I can just pull out gently, it's no big dea-" Steve began to ramble worry in his face as he began to sit back, his length slowly sliding out of you.

"No. No, I'm fine. Just, give me a minute?" You mumbled, eyes pleading with his as Steve let himself slide back in to the hilt.

"Yeah, okay. Okay. As long as I'm not hurting you." Steve whispered, placing a delicate kiss to your hair line. After a moment you wiggled your hips, the feeling of Steve's damp lips resting against your slightly-sweaty forehead and his cock seated within you becoming too much.

"You can move now." You mumbled, and Steve smiled.

"You sure, princess?" He double checked, only starting to slide out of you when you nodded again.

The pace was slow, loving. Heavy breaths and pants were shared between open mouths; hair stuck to skin with sweat; broken moans hung low in the air.

"Oh, Steve!" You cried out when his fingers started fiddling with your clit again, your hips attempting to thrust up against his.

"Is that the right spot, sweetheart?" Steve asked, but he clearly knew it was by the way your eyes had disappeared into your skull. He kept up the little ministrations, rubbing until he felt you on the precipice of another orgasm.

"Please, Steve, more." Your demand made him smirk, the man picking up the pace just a little until you were writhing beneath him, hands clutching his small shoulders.

Somehow, it hit you like a ton of bricks, your walls fluttered and Steve's eyes widened. He quickly pulled out, letting his fingers pull you through your release as little white spots speckled your vision.

Steve's other hand moved to his length, rubbing up and down as fast as he could before he was releasing himself onto your stomach, a plane of white on perfect skin.

"Wow." You breathed and Steve couldn't hold back his laugh, the man collapsing on top of you and letting his head rest on your neck.

His laughter vibrates against your skin, your own joining his in a melody of joy as your hands smoothed through his now-damp hair.

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[leejeongz]

fluffy a-z SUNGHOON (enhypen)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅the comeback!!???!!!?! amazing. i just had to write this today i just HAD TO. this is really long but nevertheless i hope you enjoy🔅

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

he loves holding your hand even at the most random times. if you seem anxious or upset, his hand slowly creeps closer to yours, just to remind you that he’s there. he’s not a fan of pda, but holding your hand is just fine :D. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

he messes up your hair (but only when he knows it’s okay to do so, he knows his place lol) when you do something silly or cute. he also does it when he’s first introducing you to people too. he’ll be all like “this is y/n, my gf/bf/partner” and then ruffle your hair, just to once again show them that you’re his.

similarly, he loves when you play with his hair. he’ll purposely rest in head in your lap so that your hands naturally fall to his hair. sometimes, he accidentally drifts off to sleep like that and then wakes up a few minutes later all smiley hehe.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

you don’t have the chance to meet up a lot, most of your contact is via text since he doesn’t have the time to call you all day, every day. he’s super supportive of you, he’s your wingman, your hype man and your parent all in one. he looks out for you as much as possible and (even if you’re not younger than him) he treats you like his younger sibling.

there’s always a lot of laughter when you two are together that stems from the assortment of inside jokes that you share. you can talk for hours despite neither of you being the talkative type (mainly about other people lmao.)

as a pair, you’re often misunderstood. people never associate you with each other but you just know that you don’t always need to be with each other to still be the closest of friends. when you are together, you’re an intimidating duo that people often avoid through fear, but you’re actually really nice 🥺😔

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

he uses cuddles as a way to distract you and/or annoy you. can and will be the big spoon every time you cuddle. he loves cuddling with you, holding you or just touching you, he’s just shy okay. he loves having you in his arms and holding you, especially when he knows you’ve chosen to cuddle with him over doing something important. cuddling with him just makes him want to cuddle all day :((. so if you start cuddling at 10am, except to still be in his arms at 7pm. more so than cuddling, he likes draping his legs over you “to irritate you” (he just wants to be close to you hehe). it makes him feel like he’s protecting you without it being too hot and stuffy and oppressive.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

there’s no time frame for him when it comes to settling down. he wants to settle down but there’s no deadline for him. he’s not actively looking for the love of his life at any point, he’s never going to force himself to be in love just for the sake of creating family. he thinks about settling down a lot, he wants a pet with the person he loves for sure, he’s excited for that day to come, but it doesn’t have to happen soon.

cleaning, he’s fabulous at. the house or apartment is minimalistic anyway, so things that are out of place are easy for him to spot and move. he almost enjoys doing chores with you even, just because he’s spending time with you. when it comes to cooking,,, like sure he’s confident which is so sweet but that doesn’t always mean a good meal. but please don’t tell him that else he’ll get really sad and disappointed in himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if he was to break up with you, it would probably be a “right person wrong time” kinda thing. he wouldn’t get into a relationship if he didn’t see a future with that person, he’s very picky to find the perfect person for him. you’re definitely the right person, but he’s just too busy right now being an idol. he feels guilty for not spending time with you and so he wants to let you live you life, without being tied down so early on. he’d hope that you’d wait for him, but he’d understand it if you didn’t.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

commitment is a big part of the relationship for him. he would want commitment from day one, even if he's not officially your boyfriend yet.

he doesn’t care when you get married, but he definitely wants to get married someday. he likes the idea of dedicating one whole day to celebrating your love for each other, and sharing that with friends and family too. it would quite literally be the best day of his life. he’d propose to you pretty quickly into the relationship, but at a time that felt right. you both knew it was something that you wanted, that you dreamed your relationship would last forever, so why not propose?! he doesn’t mind eating years for the wedding though, it’s a big deal and everything has to be perfect.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

emotionally, he acts quite tough. he doesn’t want to be seen as weak, but at the same time he wants to show his emotions to let you know that’s he’s mature, and that emotions aren’t a sign of weakness. he often keeps really troubling things to himself until he can tell you and you only. you’re the only person who knows him truly, you know everything about him because he’s only willing to share this stuff with you. when it comes to things in your relationship, he also isn’t afraid to speak his mind. he’s not trying to be gentle or tough with his emotions when it comes to you, everything seems like a natural reaction, he’ll cry when he wants to and he’ll be stubborn when he wants to.

physically, of course, he’s very gentle. every touch feels like feathers, every kiss, every hug, every smile, it’s all just very soft and gentle. you notice that he talks to you differently too. his tone with others appears harsher and more blunt than with you. with you, it’s like he’s talking to a baby (in a non- condescending way ofc he’s very mature and you’re not allowed to forget that)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

when he’s congratulating you on something, when he’s proud of you for something, he hugs you. it’s better for him to communicate using hugs rather than telling you because he’s a little shy saying it, even though he means it.

he likes when you rest your head by his neck, while his arms are holding you close. he kisses where your ear is through your hair or your head while you’re hugging and (when he manages to finally say it) whispers a little “i love you”. it’s a tight hug, but it doesn’t last long. when you pull away, he reaches out to hold your hand, he doesn’t want to separate just yet.

if you initiate the hug, he laughs and grunts and lot just to tease you, but don’t be fooled he’s really happy that you are hugging him!!!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

oh you pair beat around the bush a whole lot. it’s pretty much unspoken for the first year or so. although you never said it to each other, you both knew.

it wasn’t until sunghoon had left you for a little bit while he went on tour (not left as in broke up, just went out of the country lmao idk how to write that in a coherent sentence big sorry) that you realised that you should probably say it. he returned home and it was on that day that you told him you loved him while nestled against his chest in a satisfying hug after such a long time apart. he said it back straight away, looking down at you and waiting expectedly for your lips to meet with his.

he was always waiting for you to say it first, there were moments when he thought he should just say it, but he wanted to wait, he wanted to hear you say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jealous quite quickly and he always makes you aware of his jealousy no matter how petty the situation may be. he wouldn’t try to hide it, or compromise with you, he wants you all to himself so if there’s even a chance that another boy could possibly be flirting with you, he’ll be mad.

that being said, he’d definitely voice his opinions in a mature and well thought through manner. he would think of how to say things to make you understand where he’s coming from without trying to guilt trip you into unfriending that person, he doesn't want to be THAT guy. he’ll just explain his side and wait to hear your response, and often times it turns into a sarcastic, inside joke which reassures him a lot. he’s just like “fine, go to the cafe with him, but he wouldn’t know which smoothie you like best, would he?!”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

him initiating kisses? few and far between. but when he does, you know he means it. he loves all types of kisses, he just wants to cover you in kisses sometimes, but he’s gotta keep up his image of course. pecks on the lips and longer, more passionate kisses are his favourites though, he just can’t get enough of your lips. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

as i mentioned in the hugging part, he likes to kiss your head or place a kiss where he thinks your ear is while hugging. it sends a rush though the both of you, it just really makes you both think about how lucky you are to have each other.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

a little awkward at first. he’s not sure how to talk to them, and every time he speaks the kids are just like ”??” because he says things that are a little too mature for them.

it will take him some time to be comfortable and confident around the kids, but he wants to be liked by them and he wants them to be happy so he will not give up until that happens.

although, it does have to be said, he’d much rather have a pet than a kid 😳

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

usually, sunghoon wakes up before you. he gets up before you wake up too, and sits and stares at the wall with a blank mind, just to wake himself up a bit. once you get up, he’s gonna ask if you wanna go back to bed again and cuddle and/or watch some tv together when he has a day off. if you agree, he’d bring some toast with him for you both to eat. but if not, you’d just grab some cereal together and eat while sat around your dining table in silence because he does not want to talk first thing in the morning (valid,,, extremely valid)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

sunghoon is a big fan of evening dates as opposed to going somewhere during the day. everywhere is quieter and this is usually his free time so you have him all to yourself, you can do whatever you want together. as much as he enjoys going to fancy restaurants, bars and what not (which usually take you into the late hours of the night), he’d still rather spend some time at home with you.

on those nights that he can spend at home with you, he likes to just rest with you. chilling on the sofa just watching some episodes of your favourite show, ordering a takeaway. you share your thoughts about the show and that’s all you really talk about while it’s on, but afterwards you talk about your day and head to bed, where you cuddle until you both fall asleep (which is pretty quickly since you stayed up late to watch more tv)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

like anyone, he overshares when you first start dating due to nerves. you learn a lot about him through this and he’s actually pretty grateful that you do the same thing. you pretty much know everything about him before actually getting into a relationship. throughout the relationship, he’d never try to hide his feelings about certain things and would be pretty hurt if you used things that he’d told you against him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

with you, he doesn’t get that angry. you’d have to do something really vile for him to show actual aggression and disappointment. with other people, it’s not so simple. he finds a lot of things that other people do irritating but he wouldn’t show his anger there and then. he’s more likely to go home and get angry there. he’d appreciate someone to talk to about it, a shoulder to cry on perhaps. definitely an angry crier (cries when he’s angry) and likes to slam doors to make a point.

he’s not afraid of confrontation when something that someone did is actually wrong. he will stand up for what he believes in and it’s worth putting a friendship on the line given their opposing opinions.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

this bitch acts SO dumb when you ask him stuff but he knows… he knows everything. everything you’ve ever said is stored in his brain, probably written in his notes app as a back up. he’s ready to spring this knowledge on you at any point. he knows exactly what you like and what you dislike, important dates, about your childhood, he even remembers how certain things he did made you feel, so he could do them more or avoid them in the future. but of course, if you ask him, he knows nothing.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

you weren’t even together officially at this point, but when he turned up at your place on prom night. he’ll never forget how stunned he was when he saw you looking all glamorous that evening. you had some photos taken as a pair, egged on by your friends of course because you’d never normally do that, and he looks at them a lot. he can’t help but think how great you look as a couple (and how you two are going to look on wedding photos 🥺). he had a rose prepared for you, a white one because he knew it would go with your outfit, whatever colour it was and also because of its symbolism. he really wanted to confess when he handed it to you, but he over thought it a lot and the moment ended up passing too quickly. that’s his favourite memory. something that he’ll never forget.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

i know i said he got jealous a lot, but he’d distance himself when it actually came to it. he’d be jealous in his own space until you two were alone rather than being protective while the act that made him feel that way was ongoing. as i mentioned above, he does indeed want you all to himself, but he’d hate to cause unnecessary drama and have you lose friends over a silly misunderstanding.

if you were clearly very uncomfortable around someone, he’d be there with an arm wrapped around you. you’d both like to think that his presence alone is intimidating enough, but sometimes he has to resort to harsh one liners to get them to back off.

i don’t think he’d ever get into a physical fight. it’s not that you’re not worth it, but he just feels it would make the situation worse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he really wants to put a lot of effort into your dates, but he finds it difficult because one, he has no time and two, he doesn’t want to disappoint you/organise something you end up hating. most dates are spontaneous and on a whim, but also like… planned in both of your minds. like you know you want to go and you know he wants to go, but it’s not confirmed that it will actually happen until the time of the date if that makes sense. when it comes to it, he gets really shy asking you out on dates, so you’ve kind of just started to read each other’s minds lmao.

he never forgets your birthday or your anniversary. he makes a big deal out of your anniversary because it’s a celebration of you both, he wants to make you feel special and will do everything he can to do so. you pair make your own traditions when it comes to days like that, and he looks forward to them a lot. your birthday is pretty much left down to you (other than his gift for you of course). he doesn’t want to do a poor job of planning anything for your special day so he just leaves it and hopes that you do something instead, if you wanted a party you should have organised it. he would help you plan it thought, anything you want he’d do for you.

his gifts are always things that you like. things that you can treasure and things that you can display and show off are his go to. jewellery is a common gift that you receive from him and every single piece that he’s picked out is so delicate and beautiful.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

when you pair are out with mutual friends, he likes to tease you. sometimes he takes it too far without realising it, the atmosphere becomes tense and he becomes even more awkward and wants to leave the situation just to apologise to you but realises it will probably make everything 10 times more awkward.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s a handsome teenager surrounded by other pretty people of course he’s gonna have some concerns about how he looks. actually i don’t think concerns would be the right word. he’s very confident in his appearance, why wouldn’t he be, but he also thinks that everyone else should be too, everyone is attractive in their own way. in reality, he’s very humble about how handsome he is despite constantly flexing his visuals lmao.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

you do a lot for him, not just as in help him out with cooking or whatever, but his mental state. you’ve allowed him to mature a lot and he’s become more emotionally intelligent with you.

he’d hate to think of how his life would be if he wasn’t with you, he wouldn’t be the same person at all.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

one of the first dates you went on was to build a bear, it was his idea surprisingly (he wanted to see which animal/character you picked out, okay?!) you stuffed each other’s teddies and returned them to each other in time to name them. you named yours sunghoon first, he followed by naming his y/n. you both sleep with them on the bed and hug them tightly when you’re not together :( (but your never tell each other that’s what you do lol)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

people who are all up in his face. just back off, yeah? chill out for a second. he gets that you’re excited, and he wouldn’t want to bring you down, but you don’t need to get up in his grill. personal space is a big one for him. if you don’t respect that, then he’s not gonna have any time for you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

the prettiest sleeper on the planet. his lips are slightly separated and his eyelashes often flutter as if he’s about to wake up, but it’s actually just a sign of him having a really pleasant dream.

[bored-storyteller]

@severnrose honey, I shouldn't have preferences but how could I wait to write for you and Xiao?

Dear Xiao, sweet Xiao, thank you for asking, I have good reasons to love you :3

60- Genshin Impact, Xiao x Reader (angst/comfort)

From the prompt list

17- "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

33- "Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?"

For Xiao you are like a little sparrow, so fragile and so free at the same time. He never understood what bad star forced you to meet with him, it was something so unlikely that it might have seemed ironic, but still he never tried to put you in a cage. You didn't deserve it. Sure, you're an absurd being, sometimes annoying, sometimes inconsistent and stupid, but you're also something he never bothered to find, a free kindness and a relief he always knew he didn't deserve.

So he never wanted to condemn you to a relationship with someone like him.

For this reason, when the darkness inside him had become heavier, when he realized he had gone too far, he pushed your worried eyes away from him. It was his job to protect you too, and he hadn't noticed the wound he had inflicted on you.

He is never too kind with words, he doesn't talk much and when he does he is never able to sweeten his sentences. It has always gone well with you.

Yet this time something was different; maybe he had been worse without realizing it, or maybe you were more fragile than usual, but he immediately opened a cruel door in front of you and a wave of awareness hit you. Yes, you were nothing but a burden to him.

Xiao hadn't seen you since that day. Or rather, he had happened to see you around, as always, doing your chores, helping where there was need, but he had no longer had the opportunity to be with you, alone, as you used to do from time to time, maybe in the evening, under the stars.

Initially he hadn't done anything, he hadn't thought of anything either. You were simply too busy, as he was, on the other hand.

But one night, about to give way to the morning, while he was checking his wounds, your sobs had come to him, and so did the next night, and the one after that.

He found himself listening to your silent cry every night, and he watched over you, albeit from a distance. And when he reluctantly had to walk away, he cursed anyone who caused you that unspoken suffering. If only you wanted to tell him he would be ready to protect you, again. But again, you were a fragile, free little bird, and he wasn't enough for you, he wasn't enough to take the pain away from your heart. Someday in the near future that would pass, everything passes for mortals, and maybe he could see you smiling again under the stars. This was what he believed - or hoped for.

But in one of those dark moments, your call rang in his ears and vibrated in his bowels. Wherever he was, he recognized his name spoken by you, in the agony of your nights.

He had joined you immediately, he had immediately appeared there, standing at your bedside.

Your name had escaped his lips perhaps too quickly, and for a few seconds he waited for an answer that never came. In its place, your sobs continued soft and distressed, your body curled up under the pale sheets.

He should have sensed right away, that yours was just a moan in your sleep, but somehow it had been necessary for him to chase the chance to see you again. How long had he not seen you?

Your suffering face made his heart tremble; he would have devoured your nightmares if you asked him.

He again spoke your name, his hand shaking you slightly, trying to tear you out of your dream.

Your reaction had been more violent than he expected and had broken the composure of the Adeptus for a moment, making him move backwards, taken by surprise. However, he thought it was normal, given the sudden awakening.

"Xiao!" His name had been uttered by your voice in amazement, but it was soon abandoned as you took your eyes off his figure "What are you doing here?"

The delicate face of the millennial Yaksha frowned in perplexity. Even now that he was there in front of you, did you persist in hiding your torments from him?

"You called me." His response was swift and straightforward, as always.

"I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to, I'm really sorry." Your apologies were fragile and uncertain.

Xiao let out a slight sigh, while his dark lashes lowered to the precious gold irises.

"Why don't you tell me?" The question he asked you later was unexpected, and for a moment you shivered at the authority of his voice, but he didn't realize "What happened?"

"Nothing." You cut it short and it irritated him. You knew how to be so stubborn when you wanted to.

"I hear your sobs every night."

He didn't want to utter those words as an accusation, maybe he hadn't even done it, but suddenly you stiffened and bowed your head even more, guilty.

"I'm sorry…!" Now your voice was broken and desperate, and a doubt began to creep into Xiao's mind as slimy as a snake.

How long haven't you called him? Why weren't you looking at him? Why weren't you smiling at him anymore?

"Who ... has anyone hurt you?" Now it was he who had lost confidence in his voice.

"Nobody ... really." You had obviously made an effort to stay calm, and somehow reassure him. But even though he didn't really understand human emotions, even though he was a different and detached creature, he could sense you.

"It's me…?" He couldn't explain why, but he felt like he was hurting himself "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

Your silence was a new pain for him. You didn't dare look at him, because it was hard for you to admit how much his distance and his disappointment had upset you.

But behind his sweet stoic face he prayed to have your eyes on him, he prayed for you to remove that horrible, strange feeling that made its way inside him, at least until he was forced to turn his back on you.

Xiao is used to pain and suffering, but that time something had changed. It was something new, something he never wanted to try.

A fist clung to his chest, and he trembled. How long had his hands no longer been shaking?

He thought he was about to give in, he believed that finally his heart would break under the weight of the new, umpteenth, fault of him.

He felt the physical need to vent that sudden wave of suffering that had hit him. He wanted to cry, but Xiao didn't know what it meant to cry, so he didn't, and he just vanished, not even looking at you.

It was the only thing he could do to protect you, right? If he was the cause of your suffering, then he would no longer exist for you. It didn't matter what he did, he didn't even ask himself, he just knew he hurt you. After all, he must already know that this was his destiny.

...

You never called him again, and Xiao never showed up again. Yet, although he endured this condition with the same resignation with which he endured every painful task of him, he realized that the selfish desire he had for you had not ceased. He didn't know how to call it by name, he just knew that it was really selfish, on his part, to expect that a little bird like you at least a little bit remained attached to him.

However, even if you despised him, even if he could no longer hear your voice or your laugh even though you were still breathing, somehow at least he hoped to remain present in your memory.

So every morning a flower was placed on your window sill. He never brought you the same type of flower two consecutive days. He didn't admit it to himself, but he wanted at least in one corner of your mind the whole Liyue to remind you of him. The scent of its flora, its colors and the sweetness of it, he hoped that even if you didn't want those things would make you think of that cruel guardian. Not that Xiao dared compare himself to flowers, no, but certainly those flowers could be compared to you for him.

The Adeptus wasn't good with words, but he was capable of meaningful and powerful gestures - it was something you loved about him.

You didn't need to know that those flowers came from him - even if it was unlikely they were someone else's gifts - and he relied on your kindness to accept them with a smile.

For a while it had worked. Even though he could no longer see you and have you around, that little contact you maintained had given him a sense of peace. In evil it was that little drop of good that gave him the relief he needed.

But he couldn't deserve that either.

One morning, when the first rays of the sun began to paint the earth with the warm colors of dawn, he came to your window. The Glaze Lily he had plucked for you had remained clasped in his hands as his eyes painfully gazed upon the Qingxin he had given you the previous day, left to itself on the windowsill, away from your care.

It was so, even the thought of him you could no longer bear.

The flowers stopped coming and Xiao stopped hoping. He only prayed that Rex Lapis would see your sweetness and cherish it with love, without needing you to endure the protection of a cursed Adeptus.

...

Xiao wanted to see you again, but certainly not right now.

The first thing his mind thought was nothing, then immediately afterwards he wondered which Archon had to thank for not killing you during his battle, and then all that was important was that you were standing in front of him, and looking at him, even if from a distance.

His mask frees his face as soon as his eyes settle on you. How long had he not seen you? For a moment the pain disappears, a wonderful, ephemeral second of peace. And then again the weight of darkness falls upon him.

He should run away, run away from your sight, but like under a spell he is stuck in his place, and you still don't run away.

You are pale and scared, your eyes full of tears. How much have you seen? How long have you been there?

It doesn't matter if the blood that covers him is that of his enemies, of those who want to harm those like you, all that matters is how Xiao now appears before you: a figure disfigured by the red of shattered life, a devouring demon .

He should go, but you call him.

"Xiao ..." His name in your voice is a desperate breath as it is sweet, and you run to meet him in your anguish.

He can't look at you, not when he's like that. He looks at the ground covered in repulsive liquids, without having the courage to meet your judgment. He would have liked to see you again, but now he is ashamed of who he is, he is ashamed of being Alatus, of being the Conqueror of Demons and the Eater of Dreams, he is ashamed of being Xiao before your pure eyes.

Now you are a few steps away, he hears you, but you are afraid to approach. He wonders why you ever even wanted to come close to him again, was it your good heart that pushed you to do it?

"Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?" He did not want to ask that question, yet he posed it in front of you limpid and clear, as his "no" always are.

If he could die he would no longer distress you, nor would he hurt you, nor would he make you cry. If he could die, all aeons of unspoken pain would disappear. If he couldn't exist, everything would be better. But he can't, he has to live.

"If we are such a heavy burden to you why do you continue to protect us?" Yours is not a nasty question asked, it is rather a sweet worry distorted by insecurity.

His golden eyes return to immerse themselves in yours by instinct, without really wanting to.

"It's my duty, it's my ..." Xiao realizes he can't speak "But you're not ..." he tries again, but he can't.

He can't explain that knot blocking his throat and voice, which he can't spit or swallow.

It is my duty, my contract. But you are not a burden, you will never be.

His eyelids drop again and his head bows in chagrin. You are everything in front of him, and he is nothing in front of you.

"Don't look at me ..." is all he can tell you "You don't have to see me like that."

He was convinced that you didn't want to see him anymore, he was convinced that you wanted to forget him, but then why did your trembling hands rest so lovingly on his face?

"You are so beautiful Xiao." Your broken voice was asking him desperately to believe you, and he in front of your face now so close to him has no way to escape.

The misunderstandings between you two, the pain and the fear, no longer mattered.

Your arms gently encircle his chest and your head rests on his shoulder, without asking for permission, but he won't be the one to walk away, not now that he's found you.

"I'll get you dirty." He murmurs.

"It does not matter." You answer him softly.

You have no respect for the ways of the Adepti, but that is precisely why he needs you.

"Please be happy to live, Xiao."

[thewatercolours]

!

😅 🦅 🤩

What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

I suppose that, when it comes to fic, there are only two I've ever posted only to change my mind and remove them. The first was that tiny scene with Sir Graham asking the guards for help on how to tell them apart, and them playing up being offended that he even needed to ask, being shocked at him saying they all looked the same, etc. Chapter Four of all things made the same joke better, I didn't have fun writing it, and I wasn't impressed with the way the scene played, so I judged it was ok to stamp it with the mental "At least you tried" stamp and take it down. The other was, of course, the outline of the escape chapter in Goblin Graham. I was having trouble getting Graham to be as mobile as he needed to be for that scene, and finally settled on the walking on his hands thing because it felt like a natural progression from the previous chapters establishing how interchangeable goblin hands and feet could be. However, set entirely the wrong tone, and I was feeling stymied with that scene as it was, so I just took it down. Thankfully the idea that goblins are more resilient to injuries and that he could wrap it up and wear a metal boot occurred to me before I wrote the next bit out - wouldn't want to have Graham descending a mountain walking on his hands!

As an aside: for my original fiction, I have a policy that I never delete anything longer than a few words, and I maintain two files for the purpose. Most stuff that's too embarrassing (or simply doesn't work in some other way) goes in the "Museum" file, which I sometimes wander through and find things that should be restored after all, or which are just fun to read for their own sake. But there is also the "Grand Hall of Banishment" file, which has only two scenes in it, which I remember - things that are so bad I never want to read them ever again, and just the thought of them makes me want to give up. I could delete them, but that's not a habit I want to get into.

Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

Or some unholy combination thereof? Any and all of the above! It varies from story to story, session to session, passage to passage. I remember once hearing that some writers thrive from an unchanging routine, an other thrive from the constant reinvention of their routine. I'm definitely one of the second group! I have huge outlining files and spreadsheets, I have files with three sentence guidelines at the top, I have scenes that popped out of nowhere.

Who is your favorite character to write?

For fic? Graham, if it wasn't obvious. I have one friend who doesn't read my fic but supports me in writing it, and as far as she's concerned, this endeavour is called "Graham." "What were you writing? Was it Graham?" "How's Graham going?" "What's Graham doing?" (The answer is blushing, rolling his eyes, introspecting, and using filler words too often.)

For original fiction, it's Alain. I can't judge the quality of this WIP, but that guy gives me a lot of fun to write. I just hope I can avoid "you-can-tell-he's-the-author's-favourite" syndrome, since he's not the protagonist.

[julietnterein]

Bed time story

(n. r. x reader)

Warnings: Angst, mention of abuse, mention of rape

A/U: Hello! This is my very first Natasha Romanoff short story, if you would like me to write your prompt just hit me up! Hope you are going to enjoy this.

A snow was quietly falling on your porch, but that did not bother you at all. You loved the Winter season, you loved the Holidays and so did your small girl.

A small blond girl was putting away her last toy with a huge yawn on her face.

„Alright, dove, it's past your bedtime. Let's get you to bed.” You pick her up as the four year old raises her hands towards you. „You are getting heavier every day, I swear!” You tickle her a little as you are taking her upstairs to her room. She giggles while you are putting her into the bed, tucking her in and then kissing her forehead. You cross the room to put the small light into the socket.

„Wait, mama…” She stops you, knowing very well that light in the socket means sleepy time.

„What is it, dove?” You look at her with a small smile as you cross the room to her bed.

„What about a bedtime story?” She looks at you with large puppy eyes.

„It's already really late, Lia.” You check the clock in the hallway, which is showing something before quarter to ten.

„Pretty pleasee….” She begs you.

You roll your eyes. „Okay, okay...But scooch over, I'm not sitting on the floor this time.” You jump into her bed and let her snuggle up to you. „So which one are we telling today?”

„I want the one about the spy!” She exclaimed excitedly.

„Which one do you mean, dove?” You frown your brows, trying to remember which story it probably was.

„The one that had red hair!” She looks at you, almost hurt by your own words, that you could have forgotten about her favourite bedtime story.

You smile sadly at the small girl and nod. „I remember now.” You make yourself more comfortable in your daughter's bed. And as she snuggle up closer into your arms you are starting with the story, that is about a woman spy that was in love with a normal citizen, but this story has darker corners than you tell your daughter, this story is far far away from a love story and definitely does not end with a happy end like you tell your daughter.  

You used to work as a recruit for a S.H.I.E.L.D, not that you were going for missions and stuff, but you were dealing with the important paperwork. So you often did get into contact with the higher level agents and sometimes even with the infamous Natasha Romanoff or Clint Barton. Agent Barton was your favourite kind of agent, he was funny, he always asked how you were doing, he was the exact opposite of Romanoff. You did not take it personally, how could you? She was dealing with danger on a daily basis and you understand the last thing that would have concerned her was how was your day going. But you don't even know when it happened when she was bringing you the folders of reports from her mission with a smug smile on her face and she never forgot to wish you a nice day when she left your office. But it was just that, nothing else.

And when all the shit fell on your head and you were on your lowest point she was actually the one who noticed. She noticed that you were no longer having lunch with your colleagues, that you were no longer wishing everyone to have a great day and giving them the warmest smile. You started to fade.

A huge pile of papers suddenly falls onto your desk with a loud slap. You quickly jump in your seat, looking up at the smile of agent Romanoff, that just got back with her reports from her mission in Europe. There was an ugly bruise on her cheek and a gash wound on her forehead, but she was still smiling down at you, until she noticed how much your hands were shaking. „Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-...”

„It's alright, it's alright.” You quickly snap out, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. „Thank you for the reports, agent. I will work it on it later.” You don't even look her in the eyes, as you can feel a stinging tear forming at the corner of your eye, so you turn on your computer, trying to look really busy.

She stays in your office for a bit longer that she should, taking all in your whole body language. She knew something was off, she just couldn't figure out what.

You were so glad when the clocks finally showed four in the afternoon and you had left your office and tried to get home quickly while the sun was still up.

No one knew what happened to you, when you stayed out longer than usual the last time. As you close the door behind yourself, you can feel the panic attack slowly building up, somewhere in your chest as your breath became shorter. You are quickly trying to think of the breath exercise your therapist told you about, but your thoughts are too far away now. There was no turning back this time. That's why you sit down on the floor, in the middle of hallway in your apartment, tears slowly streaming down your face and your breath having trouble producing the oxygen you need.

You were back. It was dark, but you could have seen the street lamps. You were out of breath, you were chased. But you knew you were almost home. It was just one block away, if you were a bit quicker, you could have been alright. But you ran into the trap, he outrun you. You were caught. Trapped like a mouse, unable to do something. He was just stronger and you had to wait, you were ruined. You stayed on the cold ground when he was done, unable to move, tears were streaming down your face, shaking.

There was a ring at your door, but you haven't heard it, because in that moment you are far far away in your thought, living the horrible moment over and over again. But what brought you back to reality was a key in your door, unlocking them. In that moment you were just staring at the door in horror, it had to be him, he came for you again, you thought.

The door slightly opened. „Y/N?” A quiet voice echoed through your apartment.

You were still too paralized to being able to answer, you just stared at the door when she opened them fully. „I found your spare key, I felt like checking up on-... Oh god, Y/N, are you okay?” She rushes right next to you, when she notices your small frame shaking on your own floor. „Did you fell? Are you hurt?” She checks your whole body, but you just shake your head, unable to speak out, because you knew you would start crying if you just try. „Okay, good, good… I'm so sorry that I barged in here like that, but I just felt something was off with you lately…” But she doesn't continue, she can see what state you are in, of course something is off, someone should have checked up on you a long time ago. „What happened?” She whispers into the dark. „Did someone… hurt you?” She asks carefully, but that question just brings more chills into your body and you are bursting out crying, falling into her arms, shaking. She doesn't ask anymore, she just holds you really close, strokes your hair and lets you cry through her shirt. „I've got you now. You are safe.” She repeats quietly over and over, until you don't have any more tears to shed and you have to tell her. So you do. You tell her everything, what he has done to you and that now you are carrying his baby. And she listens, she doesn't interrupt you, she holds your hand when you need her to. And then you cry again, finding more salty fluid in your eyes, that once again soaks her shirt through, until you fall asleep in her arms.

And after that night, she never really left, she was always around, she helped you heal. Even when she was gone on her missions, she made sure you had everything you needed, and as she was here for you, you were here for her, you were there after really bad missions with opened arms and baby bumps to snuggle to. At those nights you were the one who stroked her hair and let her fall asleep in your arms.

But all this got messed up really quickly again, you were almost due, when Thanos and the snap happened. And unfortunately for Natasha, you were snapped away.

And when you came back, everything you knew was gone. Natasha was gone. But this time you had no one's shirt to cry into. This time you were alone.

You had to run, everything around you was just too much, you saw her everywhere. Barton helped you move to Europe, even though you were due in a couple of weeks. He helped with everything, maybe he felt guilty, even though he never really told you what happened to her.

But then you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she was no longer something that would remind you of the horrible events, she was just your little baby. And suddenly you weren't alone. And as she cried in your arms you whispered those words to her: „I've got you now. You are safe.”

But this story wasn't for your daughters ears, not yet. She will know one day, but this time the story end well. And you whisper: „And they lived happily ever after.” You look down at the sleeping blond girl. You have to be really careful when you are getting up, trying not to wake her up. Then you tuck her in and kiss her forehead: „Goodnight, my sweet, Natalia.”

[victorianoruben]

{Untitled yet}

Ruvik X F!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: none, I guess?

Written by: me and @another-bryk-in-the-wall

(thanks to my best friend for beta-reading it!)

Sometimes the hours are blurring together on nightshifts. Sometimes they are extremely stressful. Emergencies where there are only two people on a shift.

Other times you have 6 hours of complete rest and boredom.

That day it was the latter.

You haven't been working here for long and already find this hospital to be “different from others".

Many employees were emotionally cold and absolutely not interested in anyone, while just some liked to make jokes with you and treated you like a normal person. Also, the whole atmosphere here seemed very private. There weren’t too many patients who were going out of their way to socialize or make friends inside of the hospital. Hell, most didn’t even leave their rooms.

You sat bored in the lounge with your mobile phone in hand until you suddenly heard footsteps. They reverberated eerily in the long hallway and you turned to face that direction, startled. It was rare that anyone was wandering the halls this late at night. You saw a man in a tight red uniform aiming to walk past you, not even acknowledging your presence.

Only when you took a closer look at him, did you notice his burn scars. They were covering half of his face. When he noticed that you were looking at him from head to toe you decided to greet him, instead of just awkwardly staring at him. A relatively meek "Good evening, Sir" came out of you. You felt very overwhelmed by his dominant presence, which intimidated you a bit. That feeling only worsened when you let your eyes wander to the top of his head... Was that his brain surrounded by glass? No, that couldn't be. You were surely imagining things. But, what if you weren’t. Oh god damn it, what had he been through?

He emanated a unique self-confidence unlike anything you had ever seen in anyone with facial scarring. Usually patients like that were unsure and shy, afraid of being judged over something they had no control over. Human beings could be downright nasty to anyone with a scarred face. Something about facial scars disgusted people and the victims could clearly feel the contempt of others and as a result, they tended to lose all confidence.

This man, however, seemed to practically ooze confidence, which you respected and you caught yourself of being fascinated by or more like interested in his presence. You felt how your heartbeat rose from 0 to 100 when you both made eye contact, though you tried all your best to keep yourself collected and professionally polite. But that didn't work that easily.

"Good evening.", the man replied, his face completely blank and his voice monotone. He was just looking at you without a friendly gesture, without a smile. The man was simply studying your appearance as well. One of the many abilities he gained over the years was that he could read people like an open book, left open for him to peak in. Someone had longer fingernails on their right hand and short on the left? Guitar player who doesn't want to destroy the neck of said guitar. Some dog owners always carried treats with them, even if the dog wasn’t coming along. All those little clues told him enough about a person before they even spoke their first sentence.

But you. He couldn't read you yet, and this peaked his interest.

You hadn't been here for a long time, because he knew all the long-term workers and their darkest secrets.

"Are you busy right now?", the man pointedly looked at the phone in your hand, currently playing a silly cat video. Truth be told, he enjoyed that kind of content, but would he ad this? Never. Absolutely never. He would rather get the other side of his brain exposed than to admit that he liked cat videos.

"I need some help with my studies. Care to join me?", that was a big lie but he was curious -

Who were you and why did you peak his interest more than the average nurse in here? He'd find out soon enough.

Only now did you wonder what he was even doing here during these late hours. He didn’t look like a doctor. Was he a lab assistant? He certainly looked like some sort of scientist.

Pressing your lips in a thin line with a weak smile you put my phone in your pocket and nodded, slightly mortified that he had caught you watching cat videos of all things. It surely didn’t look professional.

"No, I'm not really busy. I’m just having a long boring night- I mean, not that I’m complaining... I wouldn't wish for emergencies either. So, yeah… I’d be glad to help you," You fumbled a little over your words, still slightly unsettled by his presence.

You’d do nearly anything to escape the boredom of a quiet nightshift, though. And you weren’t really worried about him being some kind of serial killer. Sure, your colleagues were weird, but they weren’t really the kind of people to chop you to pieces and bury you in the closest forest. Weird didn’t equal serial killer. Besides, you were curious about the man.

You were walking next to each other in silence that was quickly going growing awkward. Nervously you were fumbling with your hands in your smock overall, thinking of starting any conversation just to get out of this uncomfortable silence.

"I've never seen you before. I'm still pretty new here. Do you work here as a laboratory or doctor assistant? Also, with many nightshifts? Is that really that common in this mental hospital? " You had narrowed your eyes questioningly when you looked up to him. By reading his facial expressions it didn't seem like he liked to answer you. His forehead was wrinkling in silent contemplation, which made you suspicious. It was unusual to have an assistant running around here so late at night.

Maybe you weren’t so far of with the serial killer suspicions. You actually contemplated hightailing out of there.

'Quick, think of an answer. She is just a pretty and naive nurse'

But even a little slip up could cost his head. He could tell by her tensing posture that she was seconds away from fleeing the scene.

‘That could end badly’

"I mostly work nights," he tried to keep his answers short and to the point. Laying on a confidence in his answer that he didn’t actually feel. He made sure to look her in the eye shortly and casually avert his gaze back to the hallway. If he didn’t look her in the eyes at all he would look like a liar and if he stared at her too much he’d look like one too. It was a delicate balance, that he had mastered over the years "That is because the nights are quieter and I can focus on the patients better this way."

You took a glance at him, still wondering about what his actual job was. His answer was too vague for your taste. But the curiosity was still grown inside of you.

You had decided to work in a mental hospital because the human psyche had always been kind of a mystery to you. Mental illnesses were both fascinating and tragic in your eyes. The mind was even more delicate than the body, in your eyes. It was so easy to break and healing it was a true challenge. It was your goal to help people with mental illnesses like depressions, dissociative disorders and PTDS.

So, you really wanted to know what this scientist - or whatever - was working on.

You both arrived at the door to his office. You signed an NDA before, but who knew what could happened once you opened mouth. He didn't trust anyone in this damn hospital.

"Do not be surprised by the sight in front of you once I open this door. All I am asking you is to check the vitals of the patients in the bathtubs. I want to make sure they are doing well but I am not entirely sure how to do that.", he lied through his teeth, ready to push you into one of the bathtubs once the chance was there.

Or could you be useful to him in the near future?

When you entered his so-called office after his warning you had expected anything - but that!

Never in your life had you seen a machine this far developed... It looked like something directly taken out of a science-fiction movie. The construction filled the whole room. There were wires everywhere, all connecting to a weird sphere in the middle of the room. Completely gob-smacked by the strange… whatever that was you took a while to take notice of the bathtubs. When you did, though you froze up immediately. There were people - no patients - in lying in the bathtubs, connected to the cables, which were attached to the back of their necks.

Like a statue you stood there for at least 20 seconds. Staring at one patient, you slowly went to him just to check his state. Curious to see if he was aware of his surroundings or if he was unconscious – maybe asleep . What was this system?

Could that reach possibilities to help several people out of mental illnesses or was this just a machine designed from a psychopath just for his own use?

And why would he need help from just a nurse like you?

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Looking at this huge thing… I highly doubt that you don’t know how to check vital signs ", you shook your head and crossed your arms, taking several steps back, out of his direct reach. No way would you let him put you into one of these tubs!

You really wanted to run away and never go to the hospital again.

"So, tell me. What do you really want from me? Do you expect me to go into one of the bathtubs? Gotta tell you, that’s not gonna happen. I mean... not to sound judgmental. Because technically this could be something to help our patients. But I gotta tell you, this,“ You gestured towards the patient that was laying in the tub right in front of you, “looks quite suspicious and not very save. I hope the patients volunteered for this, because if they didn’t I have to report this. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be quite intelligent and this looks interesting, but I cannot allow something like this to continue without - "

"- You are annoying. All I want you is to check the vitals of the patients and you are throwing a whole speech at me.", he shot back, not amused with your behavior.

"I am a scientist, not one of your doctors. What I am doing here could change the world forever. It is a system which helps people with heavy trauma to forge new memories and get rid of the trauma. Do you understand me?", the scientist continued to spit out. There was a look of passion in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. They had looked quite dull and emotionless up to this point. It was clear to you that he truly cared about that project of his.

What you weren’t aware of was that the man had a plan. He'd snow you . Make you feel comfortable. And then, he'd put you in the bathtub too. The next one on his list would be Tatjana from the reception area. And then it was your turn.

What even was your name? He chanced a quick glance of your name tag, just enough to read "(Y/N)" on it.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). This is a top-secret project. If I find out you talked about it outside of this room, I will make sure you suffer great consequences. And trust me, I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Now go and check on the rest of these people before I get angry. Then, you may leave."

Author's Note:

I'm still unsure if I keep making this as a slow-burn whole Fanfiction or just cut the whole thing I'm planing into single parts like One-Shots

[kageira]

it's  not  every  day  that  mika  gets  to  talk  about  his  interests  with  shu.    more  often  than  not,    his  partner  is  too  busy  fretting  around  with  his  own  business,    tending  to  everything  important  when  it  comes  to  creating  :    whether  it  be  designs,    lyrics,    tunes,    or  any  of  the  other  hundreds  of  things  he's  completely  perfect  at.    but  shu's  asked  him  a  simple  question  :    a  'what  do  you  do  when  i'm  away  ?  '    &.    mika,    whose  first  answer  is  to  say  that  he  waits  for  shu  to  return,    can't  help  talking.    he  talks.    about  everything  he  can  think  of.    about  how  he's  gone  to  the  stores  plenty  of  times  by  himself.    about  how  he  met  mitsuru  there  once  or  twice  with  his  family,    &.    how  funny  they  had  been.    about  how  kids  recognise  him  in  the  streets  faster  than  their  parents  do,    &.    how  it's  all  thanks  to  shu's  designs.    about  how  he  tried  a  new  restaurant  the  other  week,    &.    he  wants  to  take  shu  there  some  time.    about  how  they  should  go  to  the  beach  soon  &.    play.

@itshuki.    "  your  voice  is  putting  me  to  sleep.  "

mika  stutters  in  his  words,    but  continues  to  speak,    forcing  the  rest  of  his  thoughts  out  in  sentences  already  formed  before  he  can  forget  them.    out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,    he  looks  at  shu,    who's  stretched  himself  out  on  the  couch  very  comfortably  &.    loosely.    he's  so  obviously  sleepy  that  it  makes  mika  smile.    he  really  is  beautiful.    of  course,    mika  thinks  that  all  the  time.    but  especially  now,    when  there's  not  a  crease  of  a  frown  above  his  brows.    he  is,    by  all  means,    perfect.    his  skin,    the  curve  of  his  jaw  &.    his  nose.    the  perfect  way  his  lashes  lie  undisturbed.    &.    he's  right  here,    with  mika    (  where  he  should  be  ),    being  taken  good  care  of.    he'll  be  taken  good  care  of  for  sure,    or  else  mika  will  never  live  with  himself.

so  he  murmurs,        ❝        sorry,    oshi-san  …        ❞  ,    without  sounding  a  bit  like  he's  sorry  at  all,    a  smile  in  his  voice.    because  there's  one  at  his  lips,    too.    but  he  surely  doesn't  want  to  wake  shu,    so  his  voice  dips  a  bit  deeper,    forced  quieter.    it's  a  register  lower  than  normal,    a  breach  of  the  voice  he  finds  more  usual  when  he's  singing.    it's  a  strain  on  his  voice  whenever  he  has  to  speak  so  low,    but  he  likes  to  use  it  in  certain  situations.    &.    only,    in  fact,    around  shu.        ❝        i  didn't  notice  you  were  goin'  t'sleep  or  nothin'  …  i  just  thought,    maybe  i  could  tell  ya  some  things  'bout  what  i  like  …  thought  you  might  wanna  listen  …        ❞        longer,    slower,    more  drawn-out  syllables.    he  knows  exactly  what  he's  doing.    &.    he's  hoping  on  every  fibre  of  hope  in  his  body  that  shu  can't  tell,    that  he's  too  sleepy  to  know  it,    because  he's  going  to  keep  talking  &.    not  think  about  any  of  it.        ❝        an'  you  know  …  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad  if  you  decided  t'sleep  a  little.    i  think  you  deserve  a  little  nap.    beside,    i  like  t'watch  when  you  nap  sometimes.    you  look  so  at  peace  …  it's  real  nice  to  think  ya  might  be  havin'  a  good  dream  'bout  somethin'  you  like.    i  wish  you  could  stay  here  forever,    oshi-san,    but  i  know  ya  gotta  go  back  to  france  soon.    i  just  hope  we  get  more  quiet  moments  like  this  …  you  look  real  pretty,    oshi-san.    all  the  time,    but  especially  when  ya  sleep  …  i  hope  yer  havin'  good  dreams  right  now,    oshi-san  …  i  hope  you  always  have  good  dreams  when  yer  'round  me.    i  always  have  good  dreams  when  i'm  'round  you.    yer  easy  t'fall  asleep  around.    not  'cause  yer  borin'  or  nothin',    even  though  you  probably  fell  asleep  'cause  you  weren't  listenin'  to  a  thing  i  said  …  just  'cause  you're  comfortable  to  be  'round.    i  trust  you  a  whole  lot,    oshi-san.    i  like  you  a  whole  lot.    i                     ❞

he  takes  in  a  long  breath  …  &.    lets  it  out  again.    maybe  one  day,    he  won't  be  too  much  of  a  coward  to  say  it.    with  a  soft  squeak,    he  scoots  to  the  other  end  of  the  couch,    curling  up  &.    hugging  his  knees  to  watch  shu.    just  for  a  little  while,    he'll  watch  him.        ❝        …  have  a  good  nap,    oshi-san.        ❞

* . ゜ more  random  dialogue prompts  !          𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗. 

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 01 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

Next part (02) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

A/N: I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22 , who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Blue Eyes and Angel Wings

“Stay with me.”

The sentence is the only thing keeping you alive. The only thing keeping you from surrendering into darkness permanently. The lips from where they flow belong to the human blur that's constantly in your sight. The man with worried, blue eyes, the eyes that gave you something you didn't have for a very long time.

Hope.

You have been in the backseat of the useless car you stole, out of gas, surrounded by a sea of death. Their hands pushing the glass, blocking the daylight from coming in as you lied down, trying not to move, not to breathe, waiting for them to move along. But they didn't. Your sore, beat up body struggled, as the blood dried, as the wounds ached, as the pain became greater and greater until it stopped. Until your body went numb.

The glass wouldn't resist for too long. You only wished you'd die before they reached you.

The notion of time left your mind after a while. You only noticed as the day became night when the darkness overcame you completely. It happened twice. And yet, there you were still, more dead than alive, eyes locked on the back of the driver seat before you.

You don't understand why you didn't just die. Why your body was still trying to live. It was useless. A waste of time. In death, maybe, you'd find peace.

But at some point in your agony, a gap among the dead allowed the light to come in. But it only lasted a second before it was gone. Then it happened again. Your tired eyes followed the source of the light as they kept coming, over and over. Until you saw it. One of the dead falling, colliding against the window with an arrow on its head.

Someone had to fire that arrow, you thought. More gaps kept coming, and some of them remained for a little while. You didn't think you'd love the daylight so much, that you could miss the sun so much. Holding your breath, closing your eyes tightly shut, you used all the strength left in you to push yourself up, until you were seated, back colliding against the leather of the backseat. When another arrow came, your head moved to look for the source. That's when you saw him.

Blue eyes. Living eyes. They found you, going wide at the sight.

The dead kept dying. For another day and a half, until they were gone.

“Stay with me.” He says again, as your eyes open just enough to see the bottle he's holding before you. “Hold on. Jus’ a lil’ longer.” You feel the bottle touching your lips, and water fills your mouth, but most of it just rolls down, soaking your neck, chest, and clothes.

“Alright. Let's get goin’.” When he turns around, doing something out of your sight, your eyes fall on the angel wings on his vest. That's the image that burns in your head as you slip into your half-conscious state, being lifted up once again, moving, floating, hurting.

Sometimes you wonder if he only found you to carry you into death. Because that's where you feel like your heading. Right into death.

• • •

Breathing comes easily. A lot easier then it has for the last... You don't know. Time is lost to you, minutes, hours, days or weeks, it's all mixed up.

But you shouldn't be breathing if you're dead, then maybe you're not. Pushing the air in, a groan leaves your lips when a sharp pain on your side pushes the air out again. The pain is back. Death doesn't hurt, so this gotta be life.

So with that thought in your mind, you force your eyes to open, taking in a bright white ceiling. There's something in your face, covering the nose and mouth, and you're quick to remove it, suddenly realizing that thing was helping with the breathing. Your eyes scan through the place, seeing shelves and things on top of them. Beeps on your right, windows, and equipments you don't know.

Hospital. It looks like a hospital. But how can you be at a hospital?

“She wasn't just hurt, she was–”

The voice makes your heart start pounding, and you sit up, breathing heavily. You wonder where's the man with blue eyes. Did he leave you here?

The door is opened and two women come in. Pure terror clouds your senses and your blood runs cold, like ice. It can't happen again. It can't be happening again. You couldn't be given such a tiny bit of hope jut to fall into the same nightmare.

The younger woman moves, just a little, but it's enough to make you jump, pushing yourself further away, your body leaving the bed and hitting the ground hard. Trying to get up is useless. You know your body won't respond, so you pull the hospital bed down, and it collapses loudly on the floor. The tears already cover your face as you crawl backward until you find a wall. There's no place to go now. No way to run, or fight. You're trapped.

They'll hurt you again and there's nothing you can do.

Covering your head with both your hands, you pull your legs into your chest, despite the pain it shoots through your body, curling into a ball. As if it would protect you from anything.

“Honey?” Someone says in a low, feminine voice. “We won't hurt you.”

You've heard that before. It's always a lie.

“Hello?”

“Denise. Go get Daryl. Now.”

You feel them coming closer, and you hear as the hospital bed is lifted. This is it. It'll start. All over again.

“Hi, there.” A voice says, the same voice you've been listening for a while. Telling you to stay awake, to stay alive. Carrying you, holding you.

He's here. He didn't leave you.

Soaking in a sharp breath, you raise your head, your eyes finding him by the door. Your whole body relaxes, almost involuntary. The man hesitates, looking at the woman before making his way over you. The blue eyes capture you as he crouches next to you.

The words try to make they way out, but your throat is dry, sore.

“I'm Daryl.” He says, looking down before looking at you once again. “Yer hurt. Ya need to be taken care of.” He moves to the side a little, gesturing at the two women. “They'll take care of ya. Ok?”

Nodding weakly, you try to move, to stand up, but you don't know how to. When you look at your leg, you finally notice the blood that soaked the fabric of your jeans, ripped in the middle of your tight, giving you a sight of what's underneath. Your skin was sliced open, and you remember why. And who did it. The smile on his face as he drew the knife through your skin, inflicting the last wound he could before the dead came. Before you fled that hell on Earth.

Through the corner of your eye, you see Daryl's hand.

“I've been hurt too. I know how yer feelin’. But these people only want to help, alright?”

Lifting your eyes from his hands to his face, you remember it clearly now, with no share of doubt, how this man took care of you. For how long he carried you after almost two days killing off the dead for you. Slowly, you lay your shaking hand on top of his.

Slowly, moving your legs and holding your breath, you gather the courage to stand up again.

“I can put ya in the bed.” Daryl offers, and you lock eyes with him again. “I'm gonna pick ya up, is that alright?”

Nodding again, you watch as he slowly moves, an arm on your back and the other under your legs, slowly, carefully pulling you up. Soon enough you feel the soft mattress against your back as Daryl puts you down. Breathing out in relief, you see a woman approaching, the younger one, and Daryl steps back.

In a jolt of adrenaline, as fear starts building up again, you reach out, the sudden, fast movement making you groan a little when pain spreads through your arm. But you keep moving, grabbing Daryl's hand before he's out of reach. His skin is warm against yours, or maybe you're just too cold. You try to speak again, ask him to stay, beg if needed, but it just doesn't come out. Then you just look into his eyes, hoping it will be enough, squeezing his hand just a little bit.

“Daryl, I think she needs you to stay.” The other woman says, the one with gray hair. “Is that what you want, honey?”

Without looking away from Daryl, you nod, relieved when he steps closer.

“I'll start, ok? I need to see where exactly you're hurt and how serious the injuries are.”

“That's Denise,” Daryl explains, and you look at the girl as she hesitates before taking a scissor from somewhere, cutting your jeans just above the wound you saw. “And that's Carol. Ya can trust them, alright?”

Can you?

Holding Daryl's hand, you moan and wince, as many tears roll down. Every shot of pain makes you go back to imprisonment. The dark basement, the cold concrete, the men and women who came to hurt you, beat you, trying to force you to agree on complying with their filthy desires. And every time you said no, it got worse.

If it wasn't for Daryl's hand, you'd swear you were back there, being tortured again. But he keeps you anchored here, and you try to keep in mind that these people are trying to help. He said they would, so they might be.

“I will need her cleaned up before continuing. There's a lot of mud, dirt, and dried blood. I need her body to be clean to avoid any infections.” The woman Denise says.

“I can help her,” Carol speaks up.

“Good. Let's put her on the bathtub we have here.” Denise speaks fast, and you can't do anything but follow her with your eyes, motionless. “Daryl, get her some clothes. But pay attention. Nothing tight. And get those cotton shorts, you know? They look like leggings but are really short, I don't want nothing squeezing her leg, this wound is worrying me, and I–”

“Denise, why don't you go get those. I'll clean her up and...” Carol gives you a glance. “...I don't think she'll let go of Daryl.”

“Alright.” She nods, getting a piece of fabric to clean her hands. Clean them from your blood.

“Ok, honey. Let's do this.” When Denise leaves, Carol comes closer. “Daryl will take you to the bathroom and I'll help you, is that ok?”

Squeezing Daryl's hand, you look at him. Even though he's a man, you know you'd feel better if he helped you instead of this Carol.

“Daryl can stay there. Looking away. Would that make you feel better?”

Breathing out in relief, you nod. “I'll pick ya up then. Ready?” Daryl asks, carefully moving to hold you in his arms once again.

You close your eyes shut as the small trip to the bathroom makes your body complain. Your state of numbness is fading, so the pain gets more and more real now. It's hard to tell exactly where it comes from. You're aware of the cut on your leg, and sharp pain on your side, but all the rest is just mixed up.

Daryl puts you down in the tub, slowly. Carol comes in soon after, kneeling and turning on the water. Your eyes follow Daryl as he moves to the door, standing there, his back at you, giving you the sight of the angel wings on his back. Seeing it makes you relax, and you close your eyes to feel the warm water filling the tub.

Carol is patient. Very patient. The last thing you want is to take off your clothes, so she asks and waits until you let her help you remove them. The wounds burn in contact with the water, and the fact that you must rub the soap on them, to avoid any infections, only makes it worse. You can't help the tears rolling down, and the groans that leave your mouth. It feels good to take a bath, to remove all the mud and dirt, but you wish it didn't hurt this much. Your eyes always fall on Daryl, just to make sure he's still there. Carol also washes your hair, and you're thankful for that because you'd never be able to do that yourself.

After some time, you don't really know how much, you're done, and you have no choice but to sit on the edge of the tub as Carol helps you get dressed. The doctor, Denise, got you black underwear, a light gray tank top, and these soft shorts, that end up right above the cut on your leg. “I'm sorry, I know it's cold, but I don't want anything compressing your body right now. You're very...” Her voice fades and you look at the floor in between your feet. “Here. Take this.” You shake a little when you feel a weight on your shoulders, only to realize it's just a blanket. “Sorry.”

“Daryl. Can you take her back to the bed?”

“Yeah.” He finally turns around, those blue eyes finding yours almost immediately. “Hey. I can see yer face now.” He mumbles, picking you up again.

Once you're back in at the hospital bed, Denise finishes her job, covering all the major wounds. You just found out why your side hurts. Apparently, there are a few cuts on your ribs, right below your breast. As Denise stitches them up, the memory comes back, as vivid as if you were there again. That man, with dark brown eyes and a devilish smile, hovers over you, the needlepoint knife pressed against your skin as he said you'd soon give in, enjoy the pain, and ask him to that over and over again, in the most fun parts of your body.

The memory makes you flinch away when Denise's finger brush on your skin, and you desperately look around, looking for him.

“Hey. S’ alright.” Daryl's voice comes from behind you, and shyly, you reach out your hand, which he takes in a loose grip.

You're not sure how long you stay there, cold and whining, but eventually, the doctor is over. Carol wraps the blanket around you as Denise talks about the pills you'll need to take and how to keep the wounds clean. You don't really pay attention, wondering what happens now. Where you are, and if this new world revolves around this room alone.

“Honey.” Carol stands beside the bed, getting your attention. “We'll take you home now. Daryl and I share the house so you'll be with us, ok?”

Knowing you'll be around Daryl is what makes you nod, agreeing with her. Carol gestures at him, and he's quick to hold you up one more time.

In the last days, you've spent more time in Daryl's arms than anywhere else. It hurts, way too much, with every step he takes, even though you feel that he tries to keep you as still as possible. Ever since the man showed up, you've been feeling safe. You didn't think you'd ever feel safe around someone again. Everyone you met after you were forcefully separated from your first group tried to hurt you. But this man, a complete stranger, stopped whatever he's doing to rescue you. To bring you here, wherever this is, to help you survive.

When he steps out the hospital-like room you were in, you can't help but hide your face on his neck, protecting your eyes from the daylight. And protecting yourself from the small group of people you spot downstreet. Despite being curious to know where you are, you don't wanna look. You don't want people to see you, to know you exist, to think about you. If they don't know you're here, they won't want to hurt you.

“Welcome to your new house.” You hear Carol saying, and the noise of a door being open. Finally, you open your eyes to take in the... Normal house. If you tried really hard, you could even pretend this was a normal house from before... When the dead remained dead. “Daryl, upstairs. The guest room.”

He only murmurs a response you can't understand, and a minute later you're on a bed again, much more comfortable than the first. Your head rests on a fluffy pillow and a long breathe leaves from your lips.

Daryl steps back, turning to talk to Carol, both standing by the door, talking low. You don't try to understand, you just keep your eyes on the wings... Until they leave, disappearing in the hall.

“Sweety, Daryl will take a shower, ok? And I will make you something to eat, to sustain you until dinner. I'll be downstairs so if you need me, you just have to call.”

She waits a while before leaving too.

Being alone isn't the problem. The memories are. You wish your brain would stop working, stop trying to take you back to the cold, hard floor of the basement where you had a taste of what hell must be like. You try closing your eyes, but the darkness brings their faces back. Smiles, laughter, yells. All those people having fun with your suffering, placing bets on how long you'd resist before surrendering.

A couple of minutes later Carol comes back with a glass of water and scrambled eggs, helping you get into a sitting position and urging you to eat before leaving you alone again.

Frozen, you look at the eggs. They smell amazing, and slowly, you take some with your fork, raising it up to your mouth. The taste is so good it makes you ignore the pain spreading through your arm. Your stomach starts complaining violently, urging you to eat more. It's been quite a while, but still, you can't seem to push your body to work any faster. So you just keep looking at your food, trying to figure out which pain you can endure. On your arm or on your stomach.

A knock makes you look up, finding Daryl by the open door, damp hair, and a clean face. The very image of him calms your heart, setting it at ease. “Won't ya eat?” He asks, stepping inside and gesturing at the plate in your lap.

Weakly, you nod, taking some more and raising the fork to your mouth again, trying not to let him notice how your hand shakes, and you almost drop everything before successfully reaching your mouth.

“Do ya... Do ya need help?”

Blushing and embarrassed, you shake your head no, giving up eating. Focusing on not making a mess, you put the plate, still half full, on the nightstand, taking the glass of water. The weight seems to be too much, and your muscles give up trying to lift it, letting it slip and fall back on the nightstand.

“Lemme–” He mumbles, coming fast and taking the glass from your hand. You don't understand why he hesitates there for a moment, before kneeling beside the bed. “Here, drink.” Carefully, he brings the glass close to your mouth, and you lay your hand on top of his, taking fews sips, only then noticing the water is cold. How is the water cold?

That's when you finally take in the lamp on the ceiling, above the bed, the light on. They have electricity. What the hell is this place?

Pushing the glass away, you clear your throat, taking a deep breath.

“I'll leave ya to–”

“Stay.” It comes out suddenly, your voice so weak, so terribly low you barely recognize it. You didn't know you would actually say it, that this feeling, this need would build up and crawl its way out of your heart like that.

It makes Daryl stop in his tracks, already up and ready to walk away. The way he looks down at you, it's clear he's also wondering if he did hear you. You haven't spoken yet, you realize.

“Stay with me.” You force the words out again, repeating the same thing he said to you while he had to carry you through the woods. The words that kept you trying, fighting, struggling to have another chance to live.

“Alright.” He makes a small pause, eyes on the ground before taking a deep breath and sitting on the bed, near your knees. “We were worried. Thinkin’ ya couldn't speak.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you pull the blanket up when you shiver, holding it above your shoulders.

“Will ya tell me yer name?”

His blue eyes are locked on yours, and you feel yourself relaxing, calming down, more comfortable. “(Y/N).” You say, your throat burning a little.

A small, quick smile flashes on Daryl's lips, soon disappearing. But it was there, you know it. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, and you take it without hesitating, watching as he lightly shakes it.

“I'm Daryl. Nice to meet ya, (Y/N).”

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy

[celest1all]

Terrifying Truths

[Not my gif, got it off Google so creds to them <3]

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, language, dialogue heavy, just angsty.

Summary: "Draco be damned."

Authors note: This was based on this request, enjoy!!

Deep down, you knew. It was obvious, quite frankly. The facts were there in black and white, taunting you every minute of every day. And yet you refused to believe it. Blind optimism is sometimes better than facing the truth. A truth so bad and heartbreaking that the only rational -- or irrational, depends how you look at it -- thing to do is to believe that it is false.

“Hey Y/N.” You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of Blaise greeting you first.

“Hey Blaise. How’ve you been?” You sent him a warm smile like you always did. You were probably closer to Blaise than you were to the other two, in a platonic way anyway. If we were talking about romantically, then that would be a completely different story.

“Same old, same old.” He smiled back at you.

“I can relate to that.” You chuckled lightly before turning to Pansy. “What about you, Pans? How are you holding up?”

“Better now you’ve turned up,” she started “I’m no longer stuck with these two tosspots.”

You let out a small giggle, mainly at the look Draco gave to Pansy. “Consider me your saving grace then.”

Situating yourself next to Draco (who didn't really seem too pleased with that decision), you asked him the same question. “How are you, Draco?”

He shrugged, not bothering to answer, causing you to frown. You were going to ask him again, but he got up before you were unable to. "Oh, uh, bye. Have a good day!" You called after him, hoping that might make him feel a bit better.

"Is he alright?" You said, a worried look etched onto your featured.

Pansy and Blaise turned to eachother and shared a look. You watched them move their heads in your direction but were still looking at one another.

After a few more moments of the two looking ridiculous, you waved your hand infront of both of their faces. "Hello, Earth to Blaise and Pansy? Is Draco okay?"

Blaise started sputtering out oh's and uh's whilst Pansy just sat there, stabbing her chicken with her fork. Quite forcefully too.

Rolling your eyes, you got up from you seat. "If you two won't tell me, then I'll find out for myself."

You started to turn around when you felt a firm hand grasp your wrist, making you face the two. You then realised that it was Blaise who grabbed you.

"No!" He basically shouted. "I mean no you can't, he's gone to see Snape."

"I don't care that he's gone to see Snape. Draco's my friend and something is obviously wrong so I'm going to go see if he's okay." With that, you yanked your arm out of his grasp and walked away from the two and the Great Hall.

After a few minutes of walking aimlessly around the Castle, you finally found the blond haired wizard. He was sat on one of the stone benches, seemingly doing nothing.

You debated whether or not you should go up to him, but you then you thought I would want someone with me if I was having a bad day so you went up and sat next to him.

Thankfully, you missed the way he visibly stiffened when he noticed your presence.

"Hey." You began softly. "Are you okay?"

You were once again met with silence, but you noticed him clenching his jaw. "Draco."

"What?!" He shouted, making you flinch back in surprise.

"What's up with you?" You asked again, voice still soft, but you could hear the annoyance seeping into your tone.

"Nothing!" He got up from beside you and began walking away for the second time that day.

Not wanting him to be alone in that state -- whatever that state was -- you got up and followed him. "There obviously is."

Draco spun around, nearly causing you to bump right into him. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Huh?"

You frowned at him, "What?"

"Why do you insist on following me around like a lost fucking puppy all the time?" He ran his hand through his hair and tugged slightly. You would've probably found the action hot but you certainly didn't right now.

"I don't follow you around? You're my friend."

"That's not all you want to be though, is it." He responded dryly.

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't really hide your little crush on me very well," he sneered at you "everyone could see it."

You tried to formulate a response, but the lump in your throat caused you not to.

"Did you think that you would've had a chance with me, is that it? Is that why you were always extra nice to me? Were you trying to butter me up so that maybe, just maybe, I liked you the same way you liked me?" He narrowed his eyes at you, inching closer and closer with every passing sentence.

"No! That's not true!" You finally managed to reply whilst walking backward, not noticing that you had a reached the wall.

You knew it was true, but you were once again ignoring the truth. Because sometimes the truth hurts more than the lie.

"Don't bullshit, Y/N!" He shouted, hitting the wall next to you. Your body recoiled in surprise, or was it fear? You were unsure at this point. "If you're not as pathetic as you say you are, then you would admit it."

You looked him in the eyes and swallowed, "You know what? Fine." You mustered up the courage to place your hands on his chest and pushed him back, giving you some space finally. "I do like you, Merlin, I loved you. You were the reason I got up every morning. You made Hogwarts feel like home when I wanted nothing more than to leave. You gave me something to look forward to."

Draco widened his eyes at your tone, not expecting so much venom to be laced in your words. He carried in listening anyway.

"But now? I sure as hell don't want to love you anymore. Why would I want to love someone who doesn't even value me as a person? Why would I want to be with someone who apparently hates the fucking ground I walk on?" You waved your arms around wildly, expressing just how much emotion you were feeling. You knew that you most likely looked like a crazy woman, but you didn't care in that moment.

"So you know what? I'm done." You chuckled darkly, sniffling slightly. "I'm done with this," you waved between the two of you, "and I'm done with you."

Shaking your head, you walked away with a heavy heart and tears steaming down your face. You willed yourself not to look back because you knew it you looked back, you would go apologise to him. And you couldn't. You wouldn't do that to yourself.

At one point you would've done anything for Draco Lucius Malfoy, but now? Draco be damned.

[beggingwolf]

hi so I've just eaten too much ice cream, feel vaguely ill, and I'm here to tell you All About How I Failed At Outlining for SGKF this year!

that's partially just a fun tagline, but it's also a bit true. I told my friends I'd be trying to use several different outlining methods to try and knock out a plotty piece for the fest, and things did not go to plan!

important to begin with: I am what is referred to as a "pantser." I tend to just start writing. this is strangely contradictory to my personality, which deeply loves plans. unfortunately, what often happens is plans and outlines ruin my excitement and drive while working on a project (it tricks me into thinking I've done all the work and resolved the plot), leading me to abandon it.

and though I can throw together pretty words and made a decent fic, my fics never turned out as good as they could have been. I kept telling myself that if I planned in advanced and worked out what I was doing BEFORE I did it, I'd be able to craft a fic with such care and attention as to make it really SHINE.

so, uh, kinkfest rolls around, and since I was a mod I could see all the prompts before they even got released to the public, so I basically had a WHOLE EXTRA two-ish weeks to start planning and writing.

did I? NO.

so, despite the fact that I collect writing advice like a magpie , I'm not the greatest at implementing it. if you go into my SGKF google folder, you'll find a few instances of me TRYING to implement writing advice like metawriting:

(and you'll see some fics that didn't get finished/make it into the fest!)

my issue was (and still is) that I think I value every little word too much. this is a bad thing: I'm an overwriter by nature. when I get words down, I want to keep them because I feel like I worked hard for them, even if they're not great or don't actually serve the story in the way they should. that's not to say all my metawriting was bad; it wasn't. I tried it out for A Drowning in California as well [which will henceforth just be referred to as "California").

I had a whole subfolder for California. what kind of amazed me is how different my initial notes for the prompt are from what the story actually ended up being. here, take a look:

literally almost none of this is in california. the WWE and UFC stuff made it in, and so did sid wrestling with horny, but that was it. I was going to start this fic in the locker room, with sid wrestling someone, and it was seriously going to be a story about sex—about sid wanting to hold geno down in bed. that was the premise.

and instead, we got a really emotional story about familial rejection and the isolation it can make people feel. SO! something happened along the way, right?

when I started getting into the plot that would support this supposed sexfest, this is where I went at first:

geno wants the relationship to get serious, sid is like mentally still a 12 year old who just wants to wrestle people and doesn't want to talk about his emotions, and prefers to use physicality to communicate. this doesn't work for geno, who wants ... more

we can start to see the actual emotions come through, the things I was interested in: sid using touch to talk, and geno desperately wanting more

what did the most good for me, in the end, was "doing" the metawriting by talking with my friends.

I told them what i thought this story was about ("I'm thinking about making this a story about relationship-defining, maybe? and the communication needed for a lasting adult relationship? I think I'm going to set it in california/LA, where Sid has invited Geno along for the first time for his California Summer Fun/Training/Escape, whatever, and Geno's going to be emotionally preoccupied with Defining The Relationship—maybe they've been on-again-off-again? maybe they're just new to this, like almost a year deep, and they're not getting younger—and thinking this trip is about that [or hoping this trip is about that, and realizing it isn't, and being disappointed].") and they told me what jumped out at them.

Jes told me what would ramp up the tension would be a deadline of some sort; "Geno’s going to break up with Sid or make some decision or something, or there’s something approaching where they have to make a will they or won’t they decision of some kind related to the core ‘defining the relationship’ issue. Geno’s going back to russia and in previous summers they’ve always slept with other people while apart? or Sid has a wedding coming up and he’s offhandedly mentioned taking someone else as his plus one?"

I liked her thoughts. it made sense to add an external pressure to all this, and that wedding idea stuck out to me the most.

Lis said I should add a jealousy angle, so you can largely credit her for the club scene: "one thing i like to sort of headcanon/imply about sid's california trips is he uses them to hook up anonymously. so you could have, like, sid and geno seeing sid's friends, but also accidentally running into some of sid's friends. and geno's like oh, great, so here i am doing this horrible summertime training that i hate because i don't need to train in the offseason actually, and i'm learning what exactly sid gets up to when we're apart."

My magical solution these days is GOING FOR WALKS. do it if you're able. it clears out your brain. so on my walks I ended up deciding that I wanted a taylor crosby wedding. I like taylor as a character, and as a person with sisters I just like writing her in. best of all, she and sid are close and I like writing "I'd do anything for my family" sid.

and then I was like. oh. what if it's not that sid is afraid/nervous to bring geno, it's that he can't.

I... wasn't as conflicted as I thought I'd be about writing sid's parents as homophobic. I prefer to write them as supportive; I think troy crosby's been eviscerated more than he should have been in older fanworks, and though I respect their right to make fictional!troy whatever they want, I've been a little skeptical of outlandish takes on him ("he doesn't say I love you to his son because a camera caught them mid-interaction once!") ever since I read how the media has found him a convenient narrative villain while he tried to keep his underage son safe from the media as a child and while they needed to cook up Spicy Stories about squeaky-clean sid.

uh, tangent aside, I always thought I'd never write a "parents are the villains" story, but I did here. it felt right. it was easier, too, because they're not PRESENT in the story. I didn't have to write trina actually being horrible to her son. I just had to skirt the edges of the wound.

which works well on two fronts: I don't have to actively write the crosbys being horrible to sid, and I also leave more to the imagination of the reader, and that almost never fails to make the work better. whatever the reader imagines them saying to sid, it's going to be 10x more hurtful than anything I'd write.

I dug really deep on some personal emotions and fears I experience as a gay person for a lot of sid's arc here. sid is deeply imperfect in this story, and he's internalizing his pain and the horrible thing that's happened to him, which is making him pull away from his partner, and sid is not responding how geno wants, nor is he responding well, period, though he's trying in his own wounded, stilted way.

and beloved geno, whose tender heart is so hidden away for fear of someone hurting it. I really like writing geno; he's huffy and emotional and sometimes bitchy and feels things SO deeply.

once I had more of an idea, I was already working on a more detailed outline. this is where I seriously took Jes's advice and WROTE EVERYTHING OUT! it made it so much less daunting, because I didn't have to be figuring out my next steps AND crafting sentences at the same time. also this is where I tell you that the title of this post is mostly a lie, it was metawriting I failed at.

This outline also meant I avoided writing large swaths of things that should've been cut. Another beta told me I should delete three scenes and condense a bunch of emotions into the club scene, and she was SO right. Cutting events out of an outline is WAY easier than cutting out pages of text.

Ironically my outline kind of deteriorated after the club scene, but that's alright: after I wrote the club scene, I actually had a clear vision of what I wanted the end to be. I just had to trust myself. I CAN do this, I CAN still just write intuitively sometimes!

I think California did what I wanted it to do. I'd love to try something out that's longer and has more story arcs in it (jes has a post for that too!) but I think that's best saved for another, longer project, though 18k isn't short.

next up is maggie stief's writing seminar that I bought a month back. I'm going to start working on that this month and see how I like it. I have a few halloween fic ideas, plus spookfest, so these next two months we should be cooking in the kitchen!