#and it's PERFECTLY FINE to write 3k stories where not much happens

[yellowocaballero]

I feel like I'm always discovering awesome aus on your blog lmao

There are so many other extremely cool bloggers who have like 10 different AUs that they post about and draw fanart for and I am both jealous and not one of those people. Sometimes I can just spend hours on their blog scrolling through their AUs, it's fun. Most of the time they're like a list of headcanons and worldbuilding and it's fun to mess around there.

I'm not quite like that, since I'm not a very creative person and when I have a good story idea 85% of the time I just write it. If I have a really robust series of headcanons for an AU I've written then I tend to just write another story. Also people send me asks where I can give more detail on my AUs! My stuff is always the tip of the iceberg in terms of what's fucking going on there, so I love the excuse to talk about it.

But there are some stories that I know are awesome ideas but will just never get written, which includes the Green Lantern story (I'm guessing that's what you're referring to?). I didn't really present it as a list of HCs, because my mind doesn't work that way, but just the summary of a story that won't be written. Thing is that I know for a fact it's a story with a lot of potential, but - and I really normally don't think like this - the audience would be so incredibly niche and the story would have to be so long that the ROI would be low. I write tons of stories that I never post, but those are usually because I have demons and my brain goes crazy if I don't write it. There's limited hours in the day.

All of my AUs and a few meta/HC tumblr posts are on the masterlist on my blog, so browse to your heart's content :)

[fieldofdaisiies]

secret santa gift 2 for @moonlightazriel ❤️ @acotargiftexchange ship: Feyre x Rhysand type: nothing but pure fluff word count: 3k words warnings: none summary: We all know SJM is not a fan of writing wedding scenes and since you (my lovely secret santa recipient) indicated that you would love to see their wedding scene, I decided to write it for you. @moonlightazriel I acted as your lifesaver (hope you are not disappointed that it is me haha). I am sorry didn't have that much time hence why the story is a little shorter, but I added a playlist at the end, hoping I included a lot of your favourite songs. Love you so much❤️

read on ao3

Beneath the starlit sky of the Night Court, in the middle of a forest, where trees stand tall, and the moon casts a gentle glow upon the land, is where their union will happen. Twinkling faelights adorn the bushes and the leaves of the large tress, creating a magical atmosphere that makes the forest glow softly and come alive. Further between the towering trees, shadows dance along the soft rustle of leaves that accompanies the silent chatter of the people gathered here on this day. 

"Are you ready, my darling?" The High Lord of the Night Court smiles up at his High Lady, his demeanour showing a male who is fully contented and at ease with his life. A male who finally has everything in his life that he deserves and has longed for for centuries. A male who has suffered the worst possible in life, and has survived this hell. A male who can finally be happy.

His family is finally complete with a mate and a son, who brings joy to him every day — the greatest luck in his life. Nyx's smile alone could light up the darkest night, and more than once a day Rhysand finds himself marvelling at the small wonder. 

The High Lord's eyes lock with Feyre's, violet clashing with blue and something sparks inside his chest. Once again the bond comes alive, glowing vividly, its tendrils stretching out and curling around their souls like a warm embrace. 

Feyre smiles at him, at her mate, her husband, the father of her son, her heart brimming with love and admiration, and she is once again reminded that she is mated to the most beautiful male on this planet, the most amazing one. He is stunning and perfect - absolutely breathtaking, his dark suit perfectly complimenting his whole appearance. His hair, black-blue, is glowing in the faelights, his eyes shimmering with nothing but love and affection.

Feyre's giggles and it reaches Rhysand and reverberates through his entire body, her smile just like Nyx's able to light up even the darkest part of the Court of Nightmares. His mate is stunning and breathtaking, and he fights the urge to punch himself to make sure this is really all real. 

"To marry you again?" Feyre quips, a sheepish grin on her lips.

A proud grin spreads over the High Lord's face. "To marry me again, my High Lady." He exhales deeply. "But now with everyone present. With our whole family and most importantly with our little son joining us." 

Rhysand takes her extended hand, and steps into her, drawing in her scent, drinking her in. For a split second, his gaze moves to Nesta standing behind his mate, standing behind her sister, and he smiles at her. Then he looks to his own brother. The tall Illyrian is wearing the biggest grin possible, eagerly waiting for Rhysand to take his place in front of him. Cassian's hands are folded behind his back, wings tucked in, he is dressed in a fine suit, hair neatly combed back. 

Below the small dais they find themselves standing on, is their whole family. Mor has been the one to lead Feyre down the aisle, holding tightly onto her arm, supporting her when Feyre felt like sobbing out of happiness. Her family cheered for her, their love wrapping around her like a tight embrace. Everyone is here on this special day — all the others as well, Elain, Lucien, Amren, Varian, and of course little Nyx, happily bouncing on his aunt's lap, smiling brightly at his parents, his eyes glowing with joy and love. 

The path leading up to the dais almost seems like a dream, petals scattered like confetti amid the lush green leaves. Strings of fae lights hang above, painting the scene with a soft, twinkling glow. Lanterns flicker, casting gentle shadows across the mossy ground, creating an absolutely enchanting atmosphere. It feels like a dream! It is a dream! But one that came true. Feyre's very own dream - the one the stars have made possible for her. The dream that was answered.

Feyre knows that her older sister Elain, with the help of her mate, Lucien, has truly outdone herself. They did all the decoration as well as the food preparation and Feyre couldn't be more happy and impressed about what they have created. It is truly stunning, so stunning she has to fight the tears now bubbling up in her eyes. This day…it is all she could have ever dreamed of. 

A starlit sky spreads above them, a breathtaking dome of twinkling lights and with a crescent moon in the middle, creating a magical ambience. 

When Rhysand takes both his mate's hands into his, he leans in and kisses Feyre's brow and then takes a moment to look at her, just admiring her - her beauty, her smile, her eyes, his mate. 

His gaze strays again, landing on Gwyn and Azriel, standing next to the altar made of wooden branches with flowers and ribbons adding the finishing touch to it. Candles stand among the flower arrangements, their flames adding warmth and intimacy to the setting. 

The High Lord has to fight the grin from spreading over his face, knowing it would reach from one ear to the other. The priestess truly managed to get Azriel up here to sing with her. She is the only one who he would do it for, Rhysand knows this, and it makes him happy. His brother has also finally found happiness. In his mate. In Gwyn. 

Next to Gwyn and Azriel, Deidre, a priestess and Valkyrie from the Library steps forward, a large and ancient book open in her eyes. She wears a smile on her lips, edging on pride - after all she is allowed to hold the ceremony. 

She looks at Feyre first, then at Rhys and smiles anew. "We are gathered here on this wonderful evening to witness the union of Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court and Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. Although they sealed their bond a long time ago, they decided they wanted a wedding celebration where their family is present." Deidre pauses and smiles. She brushes her finger down the page and moves over to the next one.

Feyre and Rhys can't tear their gaze away from each other though, their love for each other still so strong. Nothing could ever come between them. They are still fully enthralled by each other, hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

Rhysand admires how beautiful she looks in her dress — another one his mother made back then. It is breathtaking, long and light blue, just like her eyes, adorned with small diamonds, lace and sparkling elements. She almost reminds him of one of the travelling spirits in the sky — bright, full of life and joy, stunning.

You look breathtaking my mate. Absolutely beautiful. Feyre feels a warm brush against her mental shields and her smile brightens. 

And I love this dress so very much, but I have a feeling it will also look very good on the floor tonight. 

His eyes sparkle, glowing almost a little mischievously. She can't wait for the moment where he will pull the dress down her body, where his lips and hand will then touch her skin where formerly her dress has been. 

Tugging at her hands, Rhysand brings her a little closer, the warmth of their bodies mingling, as well as their scents, hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

It is then that Deidre continues. "Feyre and Rhysand have met a long time ago, and their start and their journey was definitely not easy - no, not at all. But all throughout they had each other, held each other, supported each other, became each other's anchor. Only together they could get here. Only together they managed everything the way they did. Their relationship is one of power and strength and most importantly love. With every obstacle put into their way, this love got stronger and stronger. They conquered everything, saved the world. Became parents to a wonderful child, the biggest sunshine of the Night Court."

Deidre pauses again when a shuddering sob leaves Feyre. She turns her head, and Elain places Nyx who is almost vibrating with excitement and anticipation on the ground. Elain gives him a little push, signalling him that it is fine to run up to his mother and father. And Nyx does not hesitate.

Carrying the box with the ring made of silver with a small diamond of the deepest blue on top, in his hand, he starts running. His violet eyes sparkle like the brightest stars in the sky when he sets out for his parents, his little feet loudly padding on the in pedals and leaves covered ground.

All formalities are forgotten — why should they even care about them on such a beautiful day only surrounded by their family. Feyre sweeps him up, cradles him in her arms and kisses his cheek. Simultaneously, Rhys presses a kiss to the young boy's forehead, a single tear slipping out of the corner of his eye and landing on Nyx's suit. 

"Oh, daddy," Nyx mumbles and reaches for his father who immediately takes his son into his arms. "Don't cry." But Rhysand can't stop it. But he has to laugh through his tears, a big grin parting his lips and he tips his head back. Nyx is so big already, it is scary - just a short time ago he was nothing more than a tiny bundle in his arms. 

And now…now he is no longer a baby. He is the biggest luck and joy of his life. Rhysand's happiness is right in front of him, right in his arms. He is so proud of him. Nyx is so wonderful and amazing and he couldn't be any prouder to call the little boy his son. 

With Nyx everything became truly perfect. This family is home and happiness and he knows he couldn't be any luckier. Everything has happened for a reason. Everything has happened for them to end up here, for them to get right here, to experience this sort of bliss. This is fate. Meeting his High Lady was fate. Their lives had been planned out long before they were born and everything has happened just for them to end up here, right in this moment. 

On one arm the High Lord of Night holds Nyx, his other hand once again reaches for Feyre's hand, holding it gently, his thumb sweeping over the back of it. Rhysand calms himself a little, meeting Feyre's gaze when Nyx rests his head on his broad shoulder. Then the High Lord dips his chin at Deidre, signalling her that she can continue now. 

She nods at him and inhales a deep breath, then opens her mouth. "The couple has always stayed true to each other, believed in each other, relied on each other and endlessly loved and supported each other. You can't picture one without the other anymore. There is no High Lord of the Night without his High Lady. The two of them share a huge amount of love, but also a bond stronger than anything else. The mating bond, tying their souls and hearts together with invisible strings stronger than any other force."

"I love you," Feyre breathes when Deidre finishes. "So much." She holds Rhysand's gaze but reaches behind her where Nesta unfolds a piece of paper and hands it to her little sister. 

"And I prepared something for you."

With trembling fingers, she holds the piece of parchment in her hands, her heart rapidly beating inside her chest, hammering against her rib cage. She steals a glance at Rhysand's eyes, then looks at her son, cradled against his chest. With a smile, her gaze returns to the paper and drawing in one last deep breath she finally opens her mouth. 

"Rhys, when we first crossed paths, I admit, I didn't quite see us here. It would have been the last thing I could have imagined. Our start was, well, rocky at best. I called you a prick more times than I can count on two hands, and well, the shoe I sent flying at your head…let's not mention that, alright?" She giggles and looks at him again. 

Rhys is close to breaking, chest heaving with deep inhales, his eyes glossy. 

"But through it all, I've learned that love isn't always born from instant harmony. You have to get to know the other, manage to cross obstacles, to fight for love, to accept and respect to live and let live."

A happy smile graces her lips. "We've weathered storms, and I've come to see your true self—the parts you hide from the world and for a long time hid from everyone apart from yourself. I didn't shy away from you. You did not scare me. I love you, I love every part of you - darkness, power and everything. In you, I found a partner, someone who helped me find the person I was meant to be. Someone who taught me how to read and write and how to love and accept myself the way I am."

"You encourage my strength, you make me feel alive, you gave me wings so I could fly and see the world on my own, conquer every part of it and find happiness."

She gazes deeply into his eyes, the love evident in her every word. "And you, you never feared my power. You are unafraid of what I am capable of, of my true self. You respect my choices, value my opinions, and always, always ensure that I have a voice and can speak my mind. You see me, respect me, and have always done so."

The tears run freely and Cassian steps forward, placing a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

"And lastly," Feyre says and stifles a giggle. "Rhysand is the best mate in the whole word. Rhysand is the best husband in the whole word. Rhysand is the most amazing father any child could ever hope for. Rhysand is my mate, my husband, the father of my son, and I couldn't be happier."

As she finishes, a wave of applause, loud sobs and cheers fill the forest.

With Nyx on his arm, he lunges for her, cradling Feyre to his chest as well, showering her face with kisses. 

His vows, he reveals to her mind-to-mind, speaking softly, gentle, reciting everything he has told her so many times in their life together while Gwyn and Azriel start to sing their second song, falling into a perfect harmony, their voices beautifully matching, creating the most beautiful sound the Night Court has ever heard, enchanting everyone. 

Rhysand closes his eyes when he speaks to his mate through their mental bridge. He loves her, endlessly, and will never again leave her side, that is clear. "I love you my mate," he eventually says out loud, still holding her close, face wet with tears, kissing her brow. 

The song finishes, and Gwyn leans against her mate, Azriel folding his own hand over hers, holding her close while the two of them watch the High Lord and Lady. 

"Thank you for the beautiful words, High Lady," Deidre says, "Please, now, repeat after me!”

“I, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court take you Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court to have and to hold”

“...for better or for worse,”

“...for richer or poorer,”

“...in sickness and in health,”

“...to love,”

“...to cherish. … As long as we both shall live!”

“I do!” 

“I do!” Both of them say, tears gently streaming down their cheeks as they exchange smiles, their faces illuminated by sheer joy. Rhysand swiftly brushes his thumb across her cheek, locking eyes with her. Sniffling, she stares back at him, lost in the captivating gaze of those wonderful violet eyes she fell for years ago.

“I shall now pronounce you husband and wife once again,” Deidre announces.“You may kiss the bride now!”

With eager anticipation, Rhysand draws her close. Their hearts beat in unison as his lips meet hers in a tender, passionate kiss. It seals their vows. Cheers echo through the forest, celebrating love and joy. 

With radiant smiles, Feyre and Rhys step forward, hand in hand, their hearts brimming with love. Their family and friends line the path, their cheers and applause echoing through the forest, a symphony of joy and bliss reaching every nook and corner. 

Rhys carries his jubilating son, cradling him in his arms with a tender strength. The boy, wide-eyed and filled with wonder, looks around at the enchanting scene, his small hand grasping onto his father's shoulder. 

Feyre, her eyes sparkling with love and gratitude, walks beside him. Her hand, held by her husband, by her mate, warm against her own.

Petals rain down upon them. They meet everyone's gaze, full of love and joy while they walk over to the place where they will have dinner, the table and buffet once again beautifully decorated by Elain and Lucien - just like all the meals that have been cooked by them. 

Embraced by the warmth of their loved ones and the magic of their union, they celebrate until late into the night, Feyre and Rhysand joined by their whole family, dancing beneath the night sky, the wonderful songs enchanting their feet to keep moving and moving. 

Rhysand lets her twirl, her dress swishing over the ground, the lace and tulle rustling with every spin. When he collects her in his arms again, holding her close he kisses her head and in a low voice says, "To the stars who listen, Feyre darling."

"And the dreams that are answered." She beams and presses her lips against his, her hand placed on his chest, right atop his steadily beating heart. 

They dance and celebrate for long hours, getting lost in the love and joy of this day. And later, when Nyx is already fast asleep at Elain and Lucien's place, Rhysand makes love to his wife, to his mate, beneath a skylit sky, worshipping her and reminding her once again how much he loves her.

[sunriseverse]

For the Weird Questions for Writers: 7, 8, 13, 17, 29, 37

thanks for the ask! these were very fun to talk about :)

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

i adore being able to create immersive experiences for my readers. people have told me i have a very distinctive style, which instantly draws the reader in, and i'm very proud of it. it's largely because i really do just genuinely like writing prose—and prose is, in my opinion, one of the best ways to draw someone into the world you're creating.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

probably without dialogue. i can write thousands of words of a character's actions and inner thoughts without any sort of dialogue just fine; on the other hand, i rely a lot on descriptive passages to give context to the dialogue. that said, i have done this when i was working as a scriptwriter for an audio drama a couple years back that has been fairly successful, so i know that it's possible, i just wouldn't enjoy it much.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

hard: anything to do with the psychiatric system that isn't just basic therapy. i have a lot of thoughts and concepts that utilise, say, psychiatric wards and institutionalisation as settings, i just wouldn't................do very well if i had to write them. easy: emotions! i am so good at depicting emotions. this is a bit of a necessity, since most of my writing hinges on emotions and the way people deal with them, but i do genuinely enjoy and find it easy (in the sense of having a lot of practice with it; i wouldn't do very well in trying to teach someone how to write emotions).

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

i am not going to delve into the minutiae of sunrise, because, frankly, i've made a multitude of posts on it, and this post doesn't need an extra 3k-10k of bloat. however, i can tell you that sunrise is interesting in a number of ways, such as its specific technological situation—futuristic technology that allows for cyborgs and mind-melding (of a sort) exists, but rather than smartphones, a lot of communication is done via radio; there are no televisions, but technology called "livecasting", which allows the recording of holograms to tape, exists. trains and fabric factories exist, but cars are rare, enough that even a character like li cu, living in the capital of beijing, regards their appearance as unusual and notable. due to the period of history it's inspired by, sunrise's central governmental system is on the weaker side of the ming dynasty (the wanli era was better than its preceding and proceeding reigns, but it was very much a patch job on a festering wound), and a lot of control instead falls into the hands of the zhang martial sect, whose control is strengthened through a number of different facets, such as the fact that, uh, they control the literal only group of people who are stopping an alien incursion from killing everyone in the nation (and also some other fun things like propaganda, prescient sociopolitical moves, having proxy control over a lot of the high population density areas, et cetera).

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

i draw inspiration from a lot of places! media that i engage with is some of the most important, though; it both gives me thoughts for my own writing, and stops that proverbial well from running dry. lately, a lot of my writing* (i add an asterisk because none of this is getting posted; it's largely worldbuilding) has been inspired by academic texts i read, since my area of focus in my academics also happens to overlap almost perfectly with my main writing project (sunrise). however, for things i actually post, a lot of my inspiration comes from seeing something in canon and going "hm, but what if this happened, instead?" and going from there.

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

ah.........i'll be honest, i don't think i'm someone who will be remembered by history, and i've made my peace with that. i think if i am to be remembered, it'll probably be for any future academic works i produce—probably, if i'm honest, on gender dynamics, language, or sartorial history during the ming dynasty. if someone remembered me for my fanfic...............i would like to be thought of as someone with a passion for depicting the mundanity of human life, and the variety of ways in which love can be expressed. (i have a very specific desire to be remembered for the femslash i write, especially the intertwining of the performance of gender and desire, but with the way lesbians get brushed aside in fandom history so often, i'm not holding out hope.)

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Hold Fast - Epilogue “Hands”

Summary: Autumn, 1775.  “The rigging ran through his blood; it was an energy, a lifeforce.”

Genre: Angst, Whump

A/N: *****Please note the chapter 1 warnings.**** (!!!!!) From the Beginning

Status: COMPLETE

Chapter A/N: Another 3k later, and holy... it’s done. My heart feels empty and light, and I’m not sure how much of me is left after all this, but my little - “I need to write this bit so I know what happened” story turned into a fully fledged, angst adventure - 50 pages and 27K words. It took over a lot of my heart, but I did it! And I actually kept to the posting schedule.

**blabbers thank yous**

All right, me hearties. Fair winds and following seas....

****

Epilogue “Hands”

He knew it was a very specific request, and not one the general populace would be able to answer. His best bet was the one person in town who seemed to know the most of the comings and goings of the harbor, and so he sought out Sampson along the dock.

“If it’s ink you’re looking for,” the dockmaster leaned in, “the Marina pulled in a few days ago with a decorated crew.” He meant the brig positioned aways out from the Thunderbird. Gordon had seen her come in, and knew Sampson didn’t mean “decorated” in the way little medals of silver and gold shown on military officers’ jackets. Sampson nodded in the direction of a few sailors loading a dinghy, where their clothes hung wet and loose in the day’s heat and where peeks of black ink spun up their arms and skin.

Gordon beamed, thanking the man, and set off in the direction of the Marina crew. He was able to distinguish them from the townsfolk immediately. He recognized many of the dockhands assisting, and Gordon realized it wasn’t just the tattoos that made them stand out, but the unfamiliar faces.

“Gordon,” Virgil bristled beside him, falling into step. “Couldn’t you find a practice in town? Somewhere clean.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Elias practiced clean.” He flashed him a grin that he knew would get under his brother’s skin. “They’re sailors, not pirates, and they all look perfectly healthy. It’ll be fine.”

Read More on Ao3

[pocketfulofrecs]

ChilianXianzi was one of the first authors I (Dee) read in this fandom and These Mortal Treasures was one of the first fics I read. ChilianXianzi has a great writing style and you’re fully immersed into the story she’s weaving. We are really looking forward to anything she writes in the future.

She has written 39k+ words on 7 works, both mdzs and cql canon. You can find her @chilianxianzi on Tumblr.

Her fics:

To Not Vainly Break Branches - [mature | 3k | wip | emperor LWJ/empress WWX]

For Safekeeping Purposes - [mature | 2.9k | crime boss/sugar daddy LWJ]

The Shadows of My Old Places, Falling Across the Moats - [teen | 8.4k | QHJ goes to Burial Mounds]

To Start A Bridge From A Single Log - [teen | 4.7k | epistolary]

These Mortal Treasures (our post) - [teen | 9.3k | dragonji]

They say - [teen | 3.1k | LWJ is troubled by rumors]

Proximity to Knowledge (our post) - [teen | 7.2k | WWX protection squad]

Dee’s favourite: These Mortal Treasures, definitely. It is one of the first fics I read when I entered this fandom. It is also one that planted the idea of writing a dragon fic. I really love it. The story, the pacing, LWJ’s response to WWX, everything.

Ju’s favourite: Proximity to Knowledge! I love genius WWX, and I love WWX and his ducklings, and this fic gives me both so well! Jingyi pov is so much fun, and all the juniors doing whatever they can to be close to WWX and learn from him just makes me so happy. It’s a really good fic to read when you’re feeling down.

The Interview:

Q. When did you start writing fics? Did you have fandoms before this one?

A. I think around 2006-ish? I used to write character and quest mods for Baldur's Gate 2 before I went through the Knights of the Old Republic fandom and the whole ouvre of Bioware's games, although Dragon Age was the fandom I was most involved in and wrote the most for. There was of course a Harry Potter phase amidst all that, as one does, but also a good deal of Sailor Moon.

Q. What made you start writing for MDZS?

A. Definitely the worldbuilding and the issues and themes raised in canon. In a way, MDZS is the complete package of family issues, class issues, communal responsibilities, my childhood love for Wuxia/Xianxia, and the increasingly dangerous and volatile court of public opinion - which is also reflected very prominently in the MDZS fandom proper.

And let's not forget the Wangxian, because they're just a couple that works not just because they look good together (They do) and have a deep love for each other (Hell yeah they also do), but they also work perfectly together because they are constantly, stubbornly striving for the same values in a world where such values often come second after ideas of honor and performative righteousness.

Q. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

A. It's an ongoing one and it's called "To Start a Bridge From A Single Log" where I wanted to explore the possible uses of Cultivation outside of the super insular scope of the cultivation world and how that would impact both communities, because all of these hogging of spiritual resources, I cannot stand it. But it also has ridiculous amounts of Wangxian mutual pining so there's that, it's just all my favorite things piled up together.

Q. What’s your favourite type of fics to read?

A. Oh, it really depends on my mood at the moment like that's why rec blogs like this is just so *mwah chef's kiss* because there's just a ready selection of different stuff for different occasions! In the MDZS fandom, I do gravitate towards fics about Wei Wuxian finding a home and his place in the world outside of his Jiang upbringing, or fics where Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian just work together realizing their mutual vow, being a good role model for the juniors.

Q. What’s your favourite comment? Or type of comment?

A. Any comment is a favorite, honestly! Writing stories are just like talking to people right, so being answered is always nice :D I suppose whatever the comment is, it's just always really interesting and heartening to see that parts of what you're talking about resonates with other people, enough to get an answer in words :)

Q. What motivates you to write?

A. I think I'm inherently a very angry person. Like literally the way I set my career path had been to find what things made me the most angry and do my best to fix it, and I feel like that's also my approach to writing. I would tackle something I think is a problem or a question that makes me angry and try to find my way through it via the characters and worldbuilding - And even if in the end the problems don't get solved or the questions are not answered, there would still be dialogue incited and there would still be the process of seeing said problem from many perspectives as writing (and reading!) encourages you to do.

Q. Who’s your favorite author?

A. The authors that really stayed with me are the Shoujo mangakas of the late 80s and the 90s, because they gave me examples on so many different ways to express myself outside of the one-note "girls should be like this" sentiments that were still somewhat prevalent when I grew up. My favorite has to be Kyoko Hikawa, though. Other writers would probably be Margaret Atwood and Nnedi Okorafor because of the way they talk about many issues through stories so they're not directly talking about it but still kinda blatantly talking about it.

Q. What is your favorite trope to read and/or write?

A. Curtain fics! There's just something inherently telling about how a character approaches the everyday and its logistics, because in a way these everyday things around them are also the things that molded and shaped them to be who they are.

Q. Do you have any advice for new authors?

A. I guess start small? I used to teach piano and after all the godawful finger exercises and endless scales it's always SO nice and validating for the kids (and adults!) to be able to complete an actual song, even if it's just a tiny piece of twelve bars. And I feel like it's a bit like that with writing too, the joy of just like, finishing something with your own hands and then having people hear/read it is such a great motivator to do more. Like we could totally start with super simple goals and as we go on, the goals or the objectives could become bigger or more diverse.

Q. What do you think is the most important element in writing? Plot, characterization, relationship?

A. I really think it depends on what kind of experience you're looking for your readers to have? For me, some plots or concepts are so engaging that you'd be fine even if the characters are switched to another fandom, and some fics have such good characterization that it happening in limbo would be fine with me, that kind of thing. I guess it's also fun to experiment with each pressure point and see which feelings and reactions from readers (and yourself!) you gain from each you love the most and how to combine each element in a portion that works out for you.

~

Check out their stories on ao3 and remember…

Comments and kudos feed the author’s soul.

[cocochannel00]

Only Wish (This Year)

All Y/n wants for Christmas this year was Harry to be home... so what happens when Harry can’t make it? (a part of the ‘Christmas song fic challenge’)

Word count: 3k Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

A/N: hello my loves! This is my submission for @goldenbluesuit​’s christmas fic challenge, Christmas is literally my favorite holiday of the year and I’m so happy I got a chance to do my first fic writing challenge based on the absolute bop that is Britney Spear’s “Only Wish (This Year)”. If you want to read more great Christmas fics by some amazing writers checkout the Christmas Song Masterlist Here and if you want to read and more of my writing check out My Masterlist Here. I hope you enjoy!! 

"Love I think the tree looks a little crooked"

"No, it's not! It looks fine," you grumbled as you tried to fluff one of the branches that was limping to the left a bit. You had just gone out with Anne yesterday to the Christmas tree farm to get it. The two of you spent nearly two hours walking around the field looking for the perfect tree to put in the living room and after your fingers and toes had officially gone completely numb the two of you gave up and settled for the lanky one in the corner of the field that no one wanted. The tree towered over you quite a bit and had a bit of a tilt, but it reminded you a bit of Harry and this Christmas that was what you wanted, him.

"The reindeer you just hung up is about to fall off, Love" he mumbled from the screen of your computer as he face-timed you from the studio in LA. Rushing over to the left side of the tree, you scooped up the ornament quickly just as it was beginning to slide off of the scrawny branch you had placed it on earlier. As you less than gracefully began to pick yourself off the ground, you heard a wolf whistle come from your husband.

"On second thought, if you keep bending down like that I think I might actually like this tree" Harry stated with a smirk as you gave him the middle finger. "Your mom and I picked it out yesterday cause we thought it looked like you. A little lanky, a little scrawny... looks like he just rolled out of bed" you replied with a laugh.

"I'm going to spare my ego and pretend you didn't just compare your beautiful, loving, and supportive husband to that sad drooping tree you have in the corner."

"(Y/n) is that Harry you're talking to in there? Tell him he better be making it home for Christmas Eve dinner or I'm going to be having a stern talking with Jeff" Anne shouted from the kitchen where she was finishing up some cookies for when Gemma and Michal' today.

You could see the color drain from Harry's face as he scratched the back of his neck. You and Harry have been married now for a little over a year but had been dating for well over three, so you know his every tick and giveaway and when Harry begins to scratch and rub at the back of his neck you know it's bad news.

"I've got this really good chorus started with Mitch, but were still trying to figure out whether-"

"Harry"

"We spent all of yesterday  working through the tracklist and I think I've narrowed it down to-"

"Harry"

"I think I'm going to end the album with the song I wrote on our honeymoon. I tweaked the melody but it's still-"

"Harry" you whispered for the last time before he finally stopped his rambling. You could see him by the way he was avoiding your stare that he didn't want to say the words you both were dreading. He isn't coming home for Christmas. You both knew it was a possibility when he flew out to LA nearly five weeks ago to finish the album before the new year. Despite Harry's offer of having you come to LA with him, your job didn't allow you the luxury of taking off that much time especially during one of your busiest times of the year. You had held out hope that Kid Harpoon and Harry could tie up all of the loose ends ahead of time, but clearly, that wasn't going to happen.

"I tried baby, I really did. There are just too many little things that need to get done here. I promise I'll try and make it back next week, we can have our own little Christmas together in London" he stated trying the lighten his crushing words. This was supposed to be your first Christmas as a married couple together so to say you were disappointed would be an understatement, but you knew that if you let Harry know he would be on the first flight out to London.

"It's ok, we both knew this could happen. I'm sure Anne and I will spend way too much time fussing over Adelaide to even notice you're not here" you replied back trying to lighten the mood a bit more by mentioning Gemma's adorable two-year-old daughter.

"Stop rubbing it in" he joked as Jeff called his name in the background. "I need to get back in before they all have my head for keeping them here past midnight again. I'll try and sneak another call later tonight if you're still up"

"So good, H. I love you"

"I love you too, (Y/n). See you soon" Harry replied back as he hung up. You closed your laptop and continued your quest to finish decorating your slightly distorted Christmas tree. Securing the lights onto the tree had somehow become the hardest part of decorating the tree, so while you were wrapped in a mess of bulbs and strings you didn't even notice Anne come in with two cups of hot chocolate.

"Oh dear let me give you a hand" Anne muttered as she placed the mugs on the coffee table before rushing to your side, delicately untangling you from the lights while placing each string perfectly in its place. You gave her a quick thanks before you walked over to the couch to admire your work.

"He texted me to check up on you, that crazy son of mine. Swear I love him, but sometimes he's got just no sense of priorities. Leaving his wife all alone for the holidays, just not right" Anne said as she passed you a mug and sat down next to you.

"I appreciate you belittling your son on my behave, but reset assured that I am ok. I'm sad we won't be able to spend our first Christmas together as a married couple, but I'm sure we'll have our own little Christmas once he gets back. Besides, I still get the full week off of work and I get to spend time with you and baby Adelaide for the next couple of days and it will be great!"

"Well if you ever need me to put him in his place you let me know, ok sweetheart? Can't have my favorite daughter-in-law feeling upset" she said as she wrapped her arms around you.

"Thanks, Anne" you replied as you gave her a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Anytime dear. Now quick, turn on channel Hollywood Gossip before Gemma shows up,  she never lets me watch this show. I heard Lily James was spotted with an ex-boyfriend again"

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on some gossip and making lists of everything that still needed to be done before Christmas in two days. If there was one thing you were certain about, it was that you were going to make the most of your situation and try and have the best Christmas possible

**********

It was Christmas eve and you had spent the entire morning cooking and prepping for the large family meal you and Anne were hosting for Gemma and Michal and a couple of close friends. The two of you had been absolutely buzzing and Christmas tunes had been playing throughout the house since you both woke up bright and earlier at 7 am. You had scoured your suitcase for the perfect Christmas outfit but after spending 20 minutes trying on outfits in the and had settled for one of Harry's red cardigans and some dark washed jeans. The smell of the vanilla candle that smelt just like Harry that Anne had left in your room last night made you miss him even more as you finished getting yourself ready just in time to hear the doorbell ring downstairs.

You peeked out the window and saw Gemma and Michal standing at the door with little Adelaide at their feet and quickly ran to the door to greet them. Once you opened the front door a pair of small arms wrapped themselves around your legs as Adalaide screamed your name.

"Well hello, my sweet girl. I missed you so much! Did you miss me?" you asked as she nodded quickly. You picked her up carefully and smothered her face in kisses just as Anne came over to greet everyone.  The five of you made your way out of the foyer and into the kitchen as Gemma wrapped her arms tightly around you and dragged you to the far end of the kitchen.

"Good afternoon my favorite sister. How is the married life treating you? Any surprises I should be worried about this Christmas?" she asked as she stole a Christmas cookie off of one of Anne's various dessert displays.

"It's been very nice, thank you. I don't think you'll be having any surprises from me this Christmas"

"Pitty I was hoping they be able to be in the same class as their cousin could go to school together," she said nonchalantly smirking at you as you stood there confused.

'What do you mean cousins? Adelaide already in day-care and I don't-- Oh my gosh Gemma are you -"

"Shh don't say it out loud, but yes. About eight weeks along, but we haven't told anyone yet. I'm telling you because last time I told you everything went well, so I think you're my good luck charm... and I need you to drink all of the shots Chloe tries to feed me tonight" She mumbled as you laugh and give her a big hug.

"Well congratulations Gem, I wish you both the best. Hey Adelaide, did you know what special person is going to be joining you really soon?" you asked the little girl in your arms as she played with the butterfly necklace Harry had gotten you for your second anniversary together.

"Santa"

"You're right baby Santa is coming tonight. Why don't you help me and Nana Anne finish decorating these last cookies before everyone gets here"

**********

The night was fantastic. After all of the guests had arrived, you all sat down to eat the wonderful roast Anne had been making all day. The room was filled with laughter and smiles as people recounted their most embarrassing Christmas stories. Your favorite was Michal's who as a child got so excited about seeing Santa at the mall that he actually peed on Santa's lap while telling him what he wanted for Christmas. Gemma discreetly slid her shot glass to you numerous times throughout the night and despite the questioning looks coming from Chloe, no one questioned Gemma's excuse of being the designated driver this year. Overall it was by far one of your favorite holiday meals to be a part of, you only wish Harry could have been there to share it with you.

"Me pants are about to explode, but does anyone fancy a little Christmas Eve stroll outside?" Michal asked as he cuddled a sleeping Adelaide to his chest.

There was a chorus of agreements and your large group slowly began to clean up their placemats and prepare themselves for the trek out in the snow. You helped Gemma load the dishwasher as Anne distributed Tupperware for everyone to take leftovers home with them before running upstairs to grab your winter jacket and boots. After everyone was all bundled up, you all headed outside into the snow, Gemma, and Michal leading the way as walked along the sidewalk. You watched the way Gemma placed a snowflake on Adelaide's nose and waited for the little girl to giggle before quickly wiping it off just to do it all over again. You continued to watch the interaction with a yearning in your heart at the thought of having your own kids with Harry and being able to take them on walks and show them ordinary things like snowflakes. Just as you had begun to drift off into your subconscious world Anne came up next to you and wrapped her arms with yours.

"That will be you someday, I can just feel it" Anne stated as she squeezed your hand tight. You gave her a small smile and nodded your head.

"I hope so. Just have to get your son to stay in one spot long enough" you joked as you rubbed your hands together for warmth.

"That man worships the grown you walk on, Love. If you tell him you want kids right now he'll drop everything"

"Hopefully when I get him back next week we can talk about it all a bit more" you replied as Anne nodded her head.

Your walk lasted about a half-hour until Adelaide began to cry saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You all preceded to head back into Anne's home for a bit to warm up before everyone would drive back to their respective homes to continue to celebrate their Christmases. Being the busy body that you were, you began to make tea for everyone in the hope of avoiding the dreaded interrogation about Harry and your's relationship that always came towards the end of these gatherings, but it never came. You think Anne must have warned them that you were feeling somewhat sad about Harry not being there because they managed to avoid the topic throughout the rest of the night. Just as the clock struck midnight everyone slowly began to say their goodbyes and exchanging any last-minute gifts that needed to be given. You helped Anne gather everyone's things and waved your last goodbyes before heading into the living room to relax a bit.

"I'm a bit wiped out dear so I think I'm going to head to bed early. Will you be ok here by yourself?" Anne asked cautiously as you scrolled through some pictures Harry had sent you the other day of him at the studio.

"Yes, I think I'll be ok. Have a good night Anne and thank you for a wonderful Christmas"

"No thanks needed dear, you're family now and always will be. I'll see you in the morning".

You waved a quick goodbye as Anne left upstairs to her room. The silence downstairs was only making your feelings of missing Harry worse so you decided to put on the TV and watch a Christmas movie to lift your spirits a bit as you cuddled Harry's picture to your chest. You know he was having Christmas Eve dinner with Jeff's family now and you didn't want to bother him so you decided that you would suck it up and wait until tomorrow to call him and tell him how much you really miss him. All you wanted this Christmas was to have him sitting next to you, sipping on a couple of hot chocolate and making fun of your weirdly patterned socks.

You hoped that flipping through the tv channels would help distract you but the minute you started channel surfing and Love Actually popped up on the screen in front of you, the waterworks began. You cried because you missed Harry. You cried because you didn't get to share all of your happy memories of today with him. You cried because you could cuddle him to sleep and wake up to his delicious scent. There you sat in his childhood home wrapped in a fuzzy blanket crying. You sobbed into the blanket as quietly as you could in the hopes of not waking up Anne and after what felt like an eternity, you finally fell asleep on the couch

*********

You were peacefully asleep on the couch until the sound of music blasting from the kitchen speaker startled you awake. 

“I signed my letter that I sealed with a kiss I sent it off, and just said this...”

"Oh, fucking shit. Stupid fucking Tom calling me at..." you heard as a crash came from the kitchen.

You jumped from your curled up position on the couch and turned around to see where the noise was coming from. As you sank deeper into the couch hoping not to be seen, you saw a silhouette moving around the kitchen searching the drawers. Your pulse began to race as you start to run all of the potential ways in which this intruder could kill you right now. Just as you were about to reach for your phone to call 999, the intruder turned on the light and you saw a familiar head of curly hair.

"Jesus fucking christ Harry nearly gave me a heart attack" you stated as Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

The two of you stared at each other for a while before you finally processed what was going on. Harry was here. Harry had made it. He was here for Christmas. He came. You all but sprinted off of the couch and launched yourself at him, hearing release gasp as you latched on to his body like a koala.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack there, love" he stated as he wrapped his arms around you and ran his hands through your hair.

"I could say the same thing. Who comes home after midnight and doesn't say anything, especially when said person said many times that they weren't going to be to make it home"

"Wasn't supposed to be home but then mom said you looked upset after our call yesterday so I told Jeff I would finish the rest in the London studio and zoom call any last-minute details. Excited to have me home?" he asked with a smirk.

"No" you stated trying to hide your excitement.

"Come on Love, don't lie to me. I'm excited to be home. Get to spend Christmas with my beautiful, smart, kind, amazing wife.  Get to shower her with gifts. Best Christmas ever"

"Definitely best Christmas ever" you mumbled back as you leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips after so long.

"I have one more surprise for you that I think you'll like" he stated as he broke away from the kiss.

"What" you whined as he laughed at you.

"Told Columbia that I'd make the record, but that I'm not releasing it till the end of next year. Want to settle down a bit more, gain more stability in case..." he trailed off as he cheeks turned pink.

"In case what?" you asked innocently even though you knew exactly what he was insinuating.

"In case you want to try for a baby like we talked about on our honeymoon. Said you wanted more stability from me before we started trying so this me giving you that. Don't want to pressure you or anything and this is your choice and I don't- "

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yes?" he questioned before you nodded your head and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Tears appeared in his eyes as he spun you around the kitchen. You laughed as he chanted "baby baby baby" quietly as to not wake Anne but the joy in his expression spoke volumes. You were both ready for this next chapter in your life and whatever happens next, as long as you were together, you knew everything would be ok.

“Hey babe” you whispered as Harry continued to cheer quielty. 

“Yes, Love?”

“Is Britney Spears your ringtone?”

“Maybe... It’s festive!” he defended as you laughed

“Ok love, whatever you say” 

Hope you all enjoyed and happy early Christmas to all who celebrate and a Happy Holidays everyone!!

[alreadyblondenow]

Black on black | Lucas Wong

▸ Lucas x reader ▸ Smut, Sprinkle of angst, devil au ▸ HALLOWEEN SERIES: 127 HOUSE ▸ 3/5 for NEOHALLOWEEN writing festival hosted by @nct-writers

Summary: We’ve read different stories about humans summoning demons to ask them for a favor but what happens if, the devil himself summons humans so he can have his own fun? The devil himself strikes a deal with a sinner to save her from the trouble she singlehandedly caused in exchange for her to accept the torture that the devil has planned for her. In bed. But an unexpected turn of events happened that even the devil himself did not see it coming.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Rough sex, bleeding while sex, choking, swearing, mentions of alcohol, blood play?, bleeding, unprotected sex, mentions of blackmail, filth, straight up filth, fingering, it’s the devil so its rough sex click away if you’re not into that, mentions of depression

A/N: PURE FILTH. I made this as a breather from the two fics before this hehe. Pure fiction and inspired by some movies of course. Don’t expect that this is good like the two fics before this hehehehhehe I just wanted to write for Lucas, finally. 

Taglist: Again, I hope I didn’t miss anyone, if yes please do message me so I can apologize huhu @huangxx @fruityutas @floweringtheflowers​

Growing up, we’ve read different stories about humans summoning demons to ask them for a favor but what happens if, the devil himself summons humans so he can have his own fun? Execute his own way of torturing humans even if they’re still alive and breathing here on Earth?

Lucas, the devil himself. Comes to play in our world during Devil’s Night, his night. It’s like a birthday party for him but nobody knows who he is just how he likes it. He made this huge party for his own pleasure, looking at the humans wearing different costumes, reading their faces, and waiting for a perfect timing. He is specifically looking for someone he can ruin for a good laugh. Someone whom he can ruin in the sheets but also ruin her spirits, her point of view in life, her way of thinking.

The house your friend brought you in was loud and blaring for Halloween night. It was a house and not a club, but the party was so wild that it looked like a club from the outside. Everyone is dressed perfectly for Halloween and tonight, you dressed how you feel. Black wings, black dress, black everything. Perfect for mourning your innocence, purity, and dignity.  

You plan on drinking and pouring all your sorrows at the dance floor, flirt a little if life permits, and maybe go home with a random stranger and have a one night stand. It was a desperate call, you just want to forget your stupidity, feel numb, and be distracted. Fuck morality you said to yourself.

“Did you eat before we get here? You already look fucking wasted” your friend asked, shouting at you so you can hear her.

“No. But I’m fine” you answer her after downing a tequila shot. You feel tired already from too much dancing, mingling with strangers but no one is interesting enough. Little did you know, someone is very interested in you.

He can smell your pain, your struggles, and your desperate call. Your sin is fresh for him and you’re in need of torture, he has a great feeling that he will enjoy this night. The thought of it makes Lucas blush and feel excited for the cherry on top of this night. He was smiling darkly on his little corner, watching your every move, entertained on how you down your alcohols with so much desperation to feel numb.

You drown yourself in the sea of people, dance with strangers who reeks of alcohol, feeling and letting the alcohol get into your system. Everything was blurry. The party lights change every second following the beat of the music. You watch the surroundings turn colored to black, colored to black, colored to black.

“Oh” until someone handsome startled you and appeared in front of you out of nowhere. Looking into his eyes made everything slow, maybe it’s just the alcohol or simply because he’s just handsome and dreamy.

“I think you’re the one for me” shameless. Bold. Just like that, he has you wrapped around his finger.

“Do I know you?” you tried stopping your smile and with your best effort, you put on a serious face. But he can see right through you.

He smirked and came closer, smelling your perfume, and shamelessly bit your left ear. “No. But I know what you did yesterday” you pushed him away but the man was strong and enticing. He held you close to him, holding you on your waist as your eyes are finally captured by his. “I know what you did to get your promotion, such a bad girl you are” you feel his hand slide under your dress, caressing the softness of your skin.

“Tell me the truth, does it feel good to blackmail your boss by forcing him to have sex with you and secretly make a sex tape? Scaring him that you will show it to his wife and his three daughters?” he chuckled darkly while he enjoys watching you get scared.

“Fuck you! I deserve this promotion-“ you croaked, feeling your tears run down your cheeks. But you won’t let this man get inside your head and tried to put up a fight, showed him you’re not scared. Lucas became even more entertained when he saw you cry and fake your bravery.

He didn’t expect you to be quite a fighter and a little fierce, but he loves a good challenge. And you’re definitely it. “Of course you do, but I’m not here to expose you. I want to give you a deal. I will make this all go away, but receive the torture that I have planned for you tonight” his voice became even more inviting and to be completely honest you’re open to accept anything and desperate to make it all go away. What you did was something you want to forget, you’re not a bad person just a very desperate one.

“Who are you? How can you make this all go away, I don’t want anyone to get hurt” He played with the strap of your bra that fell off your shoulder, running his thumb on your clothed nipple. By this time you feel so nervous because you have no idea what this man can do to you.

“I’m the devil and you’re in big trouble clever girl”

You saw it in your own eyes. Under the flicking lights. His face became scaly, the horns on his head look too good to be fake, red dark eyes that hold terror, teeth sharp and dirty as he laughs at you. Then suddenly returned to his handsome form, the one you can stomach to look at.

“F-fine, I’ll do everything you want. Since you’re not giving me any choice here but after this deal, I never want to see you again” you looked at him with scared eyes but still, you stood in front of him with the right amount of bravery.

“You’re not in the position to ask for something. Just enjoy this privilege” the way he kisses your cheek so softly disgusts you after seeing his true form.

For you, you only agreed to do this because the night can come and go. The sun will soon rise and you will be given another day to start over and forget about this night. Just like any other one night stand, you just have to make the sex count, enjoy yourself, and then forget about everything. What can possibly go wrong? You were looking forward to a good fuck tonight anyway.

‘Receive the torture that I have planned for you tonight’ those words linger in your mind like a promise that you’re waiting for him to fulfill. It irritates you how he’s just devouring you while you sit comfortably on his lap by the edge of his massive bed. His dress shirt is only half unbuttoned and you don’t know why you’re itching to get him naked already. So with all your confidence, you unbutton his shirt fully and expose his perfect body.

It made you speechless. Tan skin, perfect chest, abs hard as a rock. It amuses him how you’re completely enchanted by his body. “Remove your clothes, leave your panties” you do as you’re told, removing your own clothes while you kept your eyes lock on the man in front of you. “Perfect” he whispered, brushing his fingers on your now exposed nipples. Soft and slow, making it sensitive, making you whine and turn your head around as you roll your hips slowly on his clothed cock. He is big you’re sure of it.

He puts his thumb on your clothed clit, touching you with the utmost care, taking his time with you, and returning his lips on your neck. “Wheres that torture you were talking about?” you whine out your concern, still waiting for that promise.

“Shut up” is all he said. But it wasn’t stern. It was in an airy tone in between kissing your neck and your boobs, he almost sounded weak but that’s impossible.

He roughly put you in bed, ruined your panties in one go, and spread your legs like you’re just nothing. It was quite a rush and it happened so fast. You don’t know when did he remove his pants and underwear but he is now devouring the valley between your boobs, kissing it softly while his hand caresses your legs like he owns you.

Did it sink in already to you? That you’re now naked in bed and about to have sex with the devil?

His hard cock brushes on the insides of your thighs, feeling how big it is and already doubting if it could fit inside you. “It will” he whispers, ah, he can read your mind. Great. “fuck me already” you spoke to him in your mind, which made him smile.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not in the position to ask for something” he bit your lower lip and made you bleed. He licks the blood and licked your lips. How surprising, you like what he’s doing so you wrapped your arms around him and did the same thing to him.

You bit his lips. Let it bleed and lick his lips right in front of his eyes.

Lo and behold. This is the first time a human surprised him with such boldness. As much as it hurts his pride being continuously challenged, he still wants to see your face when he finally ruins you. But it seems like your touch is ruining him, the way your hands roam around his back is addicting for him. How can this be? “Don’t touch me” he said, but this time it wasn’t soft. He sounded angry and frustrated. But you didn’t stop and continue touching him, irritating him more with your touch forcing him to kiss you.

“I said don’t touch me” he repeats and you feel his skin getting warmer like a kettle on the stove.

“No. Let me touch you, that way you can enjoy more”

It’s not that you already found out that your touch affects him. He is naturally enticing, luring, and handsome. There’s no way you will let this moment pass without having your own fun. A handsome man is on top of you, perfect kissable thin lips, beautiful body with perfectly tanned skin, you don’t care anymore if his eyes turned red and dark.

Lucas on the other hand has never seen anyone look at him with full admiration. How you swirl your finger around his nipples, and kiss him with all the lust you have surprised him. He didn’t expect this kind of pleasure, he felt like a king.  

Desperate people can do horrible things like sleeping with the devil. “Are we going to fuck or are we just going to admire each other for the whole night?” you asked him and he was challenged. He lifts your hips and rests it on his thigh, dragging you completely on the mattress as he spread your legs even wider than before. “I’m completely aware that you’re not a virgin anymore… but tonight I’m gonna make you bleed. I will hurt you and you” there was his scary tone again that sends a shiver in your spine and widen your eyes.

“Hmm?” the answer to your question was answered by one swift move.

Lucas rammed his cock in your tight walls, not giving a fuck if it hurts you. “Shit!” you covered your mouth and breathed deeply as you feel Lucas pulling out completely and ramming his cock again inside you.

It hurt. But just like the first time you had sex, the pain was gone after a few hard thrusts.

He did make you feel like a virgin again and that completely blows your mind. How? As expected, it was a good fuck. Better than anything you’ve had and you’re happy you gave in. So happy that you were smiling while hurting, moaning a string of curses while his fingers dig on your skin.

He pulled out his cock and ran a finger on your slit. The bold move made you whine and you feel your bud so sensitive. He showed you his middle finger with your blood on it, smirked, and licked his finger clean with a devilish smile. He went back to fucking you real hard your head bumps on his headboard. The way he was fucking you was like he haven't had sex for a year.

He cums inside you and started to roll his hips slowly. “I need to rest. Go slow” again, your body is answering to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, he’s giving in from your touch.

“Did your boss made you bleed this good when he was fucking you on his table yesterday?” he asks while still rolling his hips oh so slowly and showering your neck with kisses. He wasn’t tired at all even though he’s grunting and breathing heavily. You feel his soft touches again around your chest, tracing your collar bone but when his hand reaches your neck, he suddenly chokes you and thrust quickly putting you on edge again.

“Harder,” you said, struggling but it pleasures you. You are truly the perfect one for him he thought. As he went harder, choking you until you reach your high again, you watch him smile in satisfaction kissing you while choking and fucking you hard amuses him to the core.  

Oh, how he loved the sex! After cumming inside you, he finally let go of your neck, letting you cough and catch your breath. Your body feels weak and tired, he definitely worn you out but he seems ready to go for another round, so this time you beg. “Please. Rest”

He chuckled and continued kissing your body, devouring your lips, making your nipples swollen. You noticed he’s making you touch him now, he seems to be addicted to your touch at this point. He can’t stop holding your hand, intertwine it with his, and whenever you pull your hand away just to teas him he grips it hard and wrap your arms around his neck.

Still body to body and his cock inside you, Lucas was asking for another round but you refuse. He might be the devil but consent is still important. You refuse and refuse until he gets tired of asking. “Okay. I give up. But that was-“

“Great? Awesome? Admit it you’re already looking forward to seeing me again” you were still struggling to talk from too much choking, the feeling of his big hands around your neck still lingers on your skin.

“Come to Hell with me. You’re the best I’ve had so far- I can make you rich, I’ll give everything you want” he reaches for your hand and placed a soft kiss at the back of it.

“Did you forget that I agreed to this because I have a perfect life here? Don’t forget your part of the bargain, hmm?” it completely surprised him how you easily refused his offer and still embraced your life here. After everything that happened in his bed, he still can’t believe you don’t want to stay with him.

When you got up to clean his cum dripping from your legs and prepare yourself to come home, he stopped you from leaving his room. Kissed you more and for the first time in his entire existence, he begged. “I’m not going to say it again, it hurts my pride. Stay with me”

“Do you love me? After we fucked like that? You suddenly love me?”

“I don’t love you”

“Then I don’t have any reason to stay and come with you” you kissed him one last time like what you always do to every man you slept with.

He felt betrayed, frustrated, and annoyed.

After having sex with him, you left his house limping and sore but quite glowing because of the amazing sex. It was fun while it lasted, but all good things come to an end.

Lucas did make it all go away. He gave you a clean spot for the promotions, deleted your boss’s memories about you blackmailing him, and he deleted the only evidence of what you did beforehand. It was like magic for you and you got all these for free by just having sex with him. What a win-win situation. Your life became perfect as it can be after that night in 127 House. No one can take this all away from you. Or so you thought.

He built your career in just one snap of his finger, the same goes for how he ruined your life. Just because you hurt his pride and refused his offer. After a few months, he released the video to the police and got you arrested. Laughing on the side as he watches you get your hands cuffed. Listening to your cries in jail, it’s like a lullaby for him. But that’s not where his torture ends, he even ruined your mental health. Made you depressed while you were doing time, made your family turn their backs against you. Not even one visit for a year.

That’s why you quickly jumped in bed when finally someone remembered you. Even just one visit from your family can lift your spirits.

But he wasn’t family.

“You did all this!” without hesitation you shouted at him, showing your anger from your side of the room. But he was just sitting there, watching you cry and shout. Smirking.

“Shut up. I’m here to offer something” there he is again with his twisted deals, “Come down there with me. I have a contract here, just to make everything professional and tidy. Sign it. Or you will suffer more”

He was sitting cooly in front of you, like a rich man buying a piece of a very expensive jewelry. One of the guards un-cuffed you and handed you a pen and the contract that will make everything go away. Is being with him for all eternity better than jail? Will he finally keep his word this time? What if one day he found another woman who can offer the same things?  

“You said you don’t love me”

“I lied. I don’t know what love means but if it's close to obsession, then I’m obsessed with you.”

“Why can't you leave me alone?”

He chuckled darkly and leaned closer to the glass that’s keeping you away from each other. “You’re in love with danger and all things dark that's why I can't let go of you. You are, truly the one for me” You turned silent and he just watched you cry in front of the contract, gripping your pen and confused as fuck. He was running out of patience.  

“Are you going to sign that or I will make you?”

For the last time, you read the contract and read the words ‘forever’ over and over again and looked at Lucas before you sign it. Forever with this man? you signed it with a heavy heart and smashed the pen on the table and cry some more.

“Lastly,” he stood up from his seat, buttoning his coat and fixing his sleeve. “Say that you love me” he smirked again in front of you, giving you no choice.

“I love you”

He looked deep in your eyes for some time, smelling your fear through the glass. And with one snap, the glass was gone. It didn’t surprise you this time, you’re well aware of what he’s capable of. In the first place, he ruined your life.

He snapped his fingers again, but this time you’re surprised. “Did you know that after you cleaned my dripping cum from your legs that night you come to bed with me and we had sex again- oh! It was better than the first and second round!”

Flashbacks in your head were playing, as you remember how he lured you in bed that night again. The way you removed your dress in front of him again was so clear this time, he was smiling and you were enjoying his touch. You closed your eyes and the next memory that played in your head was how he put your hands above your head, fingers intertwined with his and the feeling of your fingers gripping tightly still ghosts your hands until now.

“It was all an illusion Y/n. You never left 127 House, I just made you believe that you’re in jail. If you thought that it was already a year, well, it’s only been three days”  

[weaverofthreads]

On the process of writing a novel...

Ok, so this began as a DM to a very dear friend who had said they were super excited to work on a novel of theirs that they'd abandoned for years, but they felt a bit lost when looking at the project again. They had "too many characters, too many intrigues" and they didn't "know how to create order" for all their ideas. They didn't know "what to keep, what to remove, what to change" and wanted to know if I had any tips.  

I began to reply in messages and then realised I needed to make a whole post out of it, so here it is! All 3k words of it. This is for you, darling! I hope it helps.

Things I found extremely helpful when planning my novel for NaNoWriMo this year, after also taking some time off from it.  

Most of this comes from Alicia Lidwina’s Four-Part article on her NaNoWriMo prep process, and setting up a writer’s notebook, for 2018. You can find the link to the first part here and I highly recommend you check out the whole series of articles for a more in-depth read. 

Content of this ‘essay’: 

Preparation, Groundwork, and Materials

Project 'Stats' & Overview  

Mood, Moodboards, and Key Imagery

Things to Consider, and Important Bullet Points

Get to Know Your Characters  

Chronological Order

Tangential and Preceding Events

Basic Premise, Plot Definition, Sub Plot Ideas  

List of Locations

Scenes

Chapter Outline

NaNo Plan

Additional Notes and Tips for Writing

Ok. Let's begin.  

First of all, I'm not saying that this is the only way to write or organise a novel. It can be tackled in as many ways as there are writers in the universe. This is just the method I used to get my ideas crystallised and organised. 

Preparation, Groundwork, and Materials.  

Take your preparation seriously. I bought a cheap but still nice A4 sketchbook with blank paper for maybe £2 at the local hobby store, and used it solely for the purposes of being my Novel Notebook. It doesn’t have to be a pretty, perfect, Aesthetic(TM) journal at all. Its function is to act as a route-guide through the process.  

I bought a cute sticker from Etsy and used it as the front cover design so that I liked the book and that it felt a little bit special, without being too intimidating to put a mark in. Then I left the very first page blank, and opened it to the first double page. On the left, I wrote ‘Contents’ and then moved on to the right and wrote ‘Project Stats and Overview’.  

I used a pen that was comfortable to write with, which for me was important. I’m a very tactile person, and having nice paper and pens (not necessarily fancy), made the process feel good.

Project Stats and Overview

This is the bare bones of the book, and includes details such as:

Project Working Title: (in my case it’s Weaver of Threads)

Targeted Wordcount: (to give yourself an idea of the scope, but it’s not necessary. For me it’s 50-100k)

Genre: (for me, fantasy)

Series: (will it be one book or more? For me, probably more than one, and at least two).  

Inspiration: (here you can jot down all sorts of things which inspire your world and your writing, and it can be anything. In my case, I began with “density and lore, and feeling of being grounded in a real world from LOTR and Tolkien.” And I went on to include other writers and novels in the fantasy genre, as well as elements from our own world, such as Mongolian herding communities and way of life, the history of the Persian Empire, and Renaissance Florence!).  

Project Timeline: Give yourself a structure, and be realistic. If you know you’re a slow writer who’s prone to distractions, be generous, but if you’re someone who responds well to short deadlines, tighten the time frame up a bit. I said “November 2020 - November 2021 for the whole manuscript” because I know I’m a procrastinator who gets dejected if they shoot past intense deadlines….

Editing Deadline: December 2021-January 2022. I know I can edit fairly quickly, so I made this one much shorter.  

Main Requirements Prior to Starting: What do you need to get sorted before you can get going? It could be purchasing a laptop or figuring out a magic system. In my case, it was the latter.  

What Happens in your novel?: This is not ‘what do your characters do?’, but what, in one sentence, actually happens in the book. For Fellowship of the Ring, you could say ‘a diverse group of people assemble and set off together with the goal of destroying the Ring’. LOADS more stuff actually takes place, obviously, but that’s probably the key thing that happens in that book. So, write the same thing for yours. I’m not going to tell you what happens in mine, because that would spoil it :).  

That took up the first A4 page of my writer’s notebook, and after that, I moved on to Mood and Key Imagery. 

Mood, Moodboards, and Key Imagery

On the left hand side of the page, I wrote down the words and concepts that sprang to mind when I thought of the novel itself. These were in no particular order or placement — just a random cloud of ideas in a rough column on the left hand side of the page — and they included: history, mystery, love, friendship, betrayal, nostalgic, homesick, sense of belonging, sense of place, searching, closeness, secrets… etc. etc.

Then on the right hand side, I wrote down five key words that I wanted to associate with the novel. These would form the ‘visual aesthetic’ in the background of my mind, and could be very easily expressed with a moodboard.

This same process (writing down words and creating a moodboard) could be achieved on a website like Pinterest. Take your time with it, find the right visual clues that really match the essence of your story, and create a final mood board with a limited number of panels that will be your novel’s ‘true north’ when it comes to feelings. If you're artistically inclined too, you could draw sketches of things relevant to your world too.  

While this stage is really important for solidifying the feeling and mood of the novel, don’t get stuck here and spend forever procrastinating on Pinterest or whatever. Once you’ve crystallised that ambiance, it’s time to move on. It’s also perfectly fine to come back to this at a later stage if you find yourself running out of inspiration or drifting a bit. Daydreaming, drawing, mood-board-ing are all great ways to work on your novel on days when you don’t feel like writing.

Things to Consider:

Alicia Lidwina asked herself some questions which helped me get past the ‘block’ that I’d created when thinking about the novel, and those were:

What scares me about this story? (in my case it was the scope of it - it was easy for me to get lost in over-thinking tiny details and get too overwhelmed to handle the big picture)

What will readers take away from it? (in my case, I hoped that it was a sense of friendship, people from desperate cultures finding common ground, and a sense of being grounded in a real, tangible world.

What is its selling point? (essentially, why would an agent/publisher choose yours over the next one in the pile?). Don’t be bashful about this. This is your notebook, so if you’re proud of a feature or aspect of the story, write it down. In my case, there is no ‘Big Bad come to destroy the world’, no Chosen One who is the only one who can stop it. There is an antagonist, but it’s on a personal scale, and that’s the selling point. It’s about two people going on a personal journey to uncover a lost piece of knowledge that’s arguably not all that world-changing on its own, but which means the world to them.  

What will be the three biggest issues in writing the first draft? Identify the three biggest roadblocks, and then take a bulldozer to them. For me, it was time management, getting mentally stuck, and the sheer darned effort of it becoming overwhelming!

Important Bullet Points  

These are five key facts about your novel, distilled from the sections above. They include: What’s at the heart of the story? How long is the story? What’s the narrative focus of the story? What are the maximum number of main characters? And the maximum number of supporting characters (this obviously doesn’t mean you can’t have other, less important characters too!)?  

Relationship between the two main characters is forefront

50-100k words

The novel’s focus is on the characters’ main goal (had to be more vague here so I didn't give it away)

2 main characters

3 supporting characters  

If you find you’ve got too many main characters (not necessarily a bad thing to have a lot of characters - look at A Song of Ice and Fire after all!), then figure out whose story you want to tell here. You can always write another story with other characters in a connected novel, or a sequel. You don’t have to tell everything all at the same time.  

Speaking of characters… 

…Get to Know Your Main Characters:  

Here you can write character sheets for each of your main characters and cast. There are hundreds of these templates available on the internet, asking questions like ‘how would your character react to [insert event]?’ etc. to get to know your character. If this isn’t your thing (it isn’t mine) then at least write down some useful information about them. Rough height and weight, hair, eye and skin colour, general temperament, and any other defining physical or mental traits. 

Next came the Chronological Order

This does not have to represent the final order of the novel’s structure, nor the order in which you write the manuscript, but you need to know what happened within the timeline, and when, in order to be really clear when you’re telling the story. You can write the manuscript out of order, and you can tell the story with flashbacks or in a different order, but you need to have the underlying chronology securely in place so that your writing makes sense and so that you don’t confuse yourself or the readers in the process.  

Preceding and Tangential Events

These don’t need to be in the novel itself, but it may be important to define the sequence of events that also led up to the moment where we pick up your story, and what is happening elsewhere so that you can be sure of these too. In my case, I defined the events that concerned one of the supporting characters’ lives so that I knew how and why they were at the point they are in the story. It relates directly to - and heavily influences - the events of the novel, so I needed to have this person’s history nailed down as well, even though I don't tell it all explicitly in the book (because that would be unnecessary and a bit dull).  

Basic Premise, Plot Definition, and Sub-Plot Ideas (plus writing a synopsis)

Alicia Lidwina defined the story premise helpfully with the following formula:

Story Premise = Main Character + Desire + Obstacle

Pick a different colour for each of these components, and write a short paragraph to explain them in the context of the novel. Alicia Lidwina used the following:

[Main Character] “Harry, an orphan who didn’t know that he’s a wizard, [Desire] got invited into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and wanted to live his school life to its fullest, [Obstacle] but a certain Dark Lord who killed his parents is trying to rise into powers again and kill him in revenge.

Do this for your novel, and keep it really short.  

Plot Definition: This is even shorter than that! It’s a single sentence!! It’s most closely tied to the desire of the character, and lies at the heart of the story. It’s most likely a distilled version of the ‘what happens in the story’ from the Project Stats page, so check that to see what you wrote there.  

Sub Plot Ideas  

Five bullet points (no more) for things that are happening concurrently and which are related in some way to the main story. For me, Kae and Tomas are doing their research, so that’s the main theme, but beneath that there are a few other related incidents.

Writing a Synopsis - developed out of the points in this section, and includes:

Who the main character is

What the stakes are (the story premise is your guideline)

What the main plot line is

How the MC resolves the problem in the main plot line

How the book ends.

List of Locations  

Start with the main ones and add to it as you go on. Write a little bit of information about them so that you have something to refer back to. I also drew a big old map which I found very helpful and also really fun to do.

List of Scenes

It’s very important to map out every single scene that happens in the novel. Use your timeline to help with this, but remember a scene is not necessarily a chapter. You can have more than one scene within a chapter, but try not to have too many.  

I used small post-it notes (sticky notes) and wrote down things like “M joins K’s clan at the fire and K learns about magic” and “K studies at Citadel, intro to Citadel, magic, and characters” as separate scenes. Once you’ve written down everything that is going to happen (this will take some time! Get a drink and some snacks ready, and go slow), you can stick them into your notebook in the order you’d like to tell the story. Some chapters may have just one scene, while others may have two or three. I didn’t have more than two in any of my chapters, and actually ended up splitting some scenes that I’d made too vague in this section into more chapters. It doesn’t have to be set in stone, but it will form a road map.  

Additions and Notes:  

I left a section of the Scene Outline bit of the notebook blank for things to add in as I went along. I haven’t used it yet, but I might.  

Chapter Outline

I arranged the scenes into the chapters already by sticking them in order, but you could do a chapter outline separately after this. It’s up to you. 

NaNoWriMo plan:  

I did this back in October, and wrote down the main goal for nanoprep, which was to finish the background info. Breaking that down further, I listed - magic (how does it work exactly), geography, and politics. 

After that, it was just a case of writing the 1667 words a day. *spoilers, I got distracted and didn’t do NaNo this year* . What I should have done, was break it up into chunks and write down my goals so that I had something tangible to use as a road map, and I will be doing that now for the novel as I take it up again outside of NaNo. Having check boxes and manageable goals really works for me. Find what will work for you, and if it turns out not to, adapt!

Some final pointers and tips:

Set regular goals for yourself. Whether you work by saying ‘I’ll write 1000 words a day’ or ‘I’ll write something every day’, make a structure for yourself. If you slip and miss a day, week, or month (I didn’t meet NaNo this year because I chose to work on another project instead *slaps forehead*), don’t beat yourself up. Writing is a craft and it takes a long time and a lot of discipline to master a craft.  

Your first draft does not have to be good. At all. Your first draft is just words on paper. A first draft is the block of marble taken from the quarry, and subsequent edits and reworking is the process of carving the sculpture itself. The editing that is done by the publisher or the professional you employ to edit it for you later, is the final polishing. Don’t be demoralised if the block of marble seems very rough when it first lands in your studio. That’s ok!  

Take regular breaks. Writing is hard work, and most people can’t concentrate on something successfully for longer than 55 min's, and if you’re doing that, you’re already doing really well. Personally, I’m at 15-20 on a good day. Write in little sprints of ten minutes or so, and then get up and stretch, look out the window, maybe leave the room, come back in with a fresh approach.  

Stretch your hands, and wear wrist braces when you work. Seriously. I gave myself tendinitis on my first major project, and couldn’t use either hand properly for weeks. The ones I have are these, and they allow me to work safely for much longer.  

Keep hydrated. Have a bottle of water on the desk in front of you between your arms as you type and sip it, otherwise you’ll forget. 2 litres a day is usually recommended, but know your body and drink accordingly.  

Treat yourself. Whether that’s something as simple as a decadent hot chocolate after your first chapter/chunk/sprint is done, or a new notebook or a pen or that sticker set you wanted on Etsy or literally anything nice, reward yourself for the hard work you’ve put in, with tangible things you can look at or experience and say ‘I have that because I did the work’. It’ll help with your sense of achievement, especially if the project is a long one.  

Join a local writer’s group for feedback. With the current Covid-19 chaos, this is probably not possible right now, but getting constructive feedback on your work from someone who hasn’t been cocooned in the project in the way you are, but who respects you as a writer and wants to help you grow, will be invaluable. It’s too easy to exist in a little isolated bubble and think you’re doing ok, when in reality you could be creating bad habits which will be difficult to break later. By these, I mean things like ‘filler words’ you don’t realise you use, or other pit-falls it’s easy to tumble into when you can’t see the wood for the trees…It’s intimidating, and it might take some courage to work up and do, but I promise it’ll help you grow. You don’t have to do what the people suggest, but it’s great to get outside opinions all the same.

Submit work to writing competitions. This will help with showing agents and publishers later down the line that you’re not only committed, but hopefully talented, and will help you to push yourself. Use the world of your novel for the setting, and get to know it by writing short stories on the competition’s theme set there.  

Read. Read the writers you admire, and read them ‘actively’ - figure out exactly what it is about ‘that’ sentence that made you shiver, and use the same techniques in your own work (don’t plagiarise, obviously, but if it was alliteration that made the sentence work so well, use it yourself! Perhaps it was the metre of the line? Great, now you know a rhythm that will drive a sentence forward or slow it down etc.)

Enjoy it. If you’re not enjoying what you’re doing, it’ll show in the work. Take a step back if you start floundering, and ‘interview’ yourself about why it’s not fun any more. Refer back to the sections in the notebook that helped to clarify the plot/process, and see if you’ve wandered away from them. Make yourself answer questions like: ‘What is the main reason I don’t want to do this?’ ‘What is the character’s motivation?’ ‘Should I scrap this section?’ (don’t delete it, but cut and paste it into another ‘scraps’ document, and then start afresh from the last place you were happy with. Nothing is wasted - it all goes into building the world and getting to know the characters, even if it doesn’t get explicitly told in the finished product, so don’t be afraid to do that last bit).  

Good luck!

I hope you found this helpful, and if you have any questions or things you’d like to add to this, please feel free to send me an ask here on Tumblr.

If you’re a new writer hoping to get an agent or publisher, you might also find this post on ‘talking to a published author’ helpful or interesting.

If you would like to keep up to date with my own novel’s progress, you can follow me here on Tumblr, as well as on my writing Instagram @rnpeacock

[falsegoodnight]

these are the fics I read (or reread) and loved this month!

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 26th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because i don’t want this to be too long!

—

✰ you fold into me like a beating heart by @lil0 / theweightofmywords | 2k

He’s scrolling through his phone as this nervous energy consumes him. He feels like he’s on the edge of something. If he falls, he doesn’t think he’d ever make it back. He catches himself staring at his weather app. It’s sunny where his ex is.

It’s sunny here too.

(this was so lovely and well-written! i’m honestly impressed with how much development and characterization and emotion was packed into less than 2k words! also i don’t want to spoil anything but there’s an element in this fic that finally plays out in the final sentence and i ADORED that! the last few paragraphs in general are just so perfect!)

✰ no one to blame (but the drink) by @femstyles | 3k 

Harry misses Louis. He knows Louis deserves better.

(this was so well-written and heart wrenching! i’m a sucker for fics where so much raw feeling is packed into smaller sizes and this is a perfect example! and exes to lovers, my kryptonite! it has more of an open ending but i loved it the little flicker of hope that it left the reader with!!)

✰ For You I’d Bleed Myself Dry by @allwaswell16​ | 4k

After a public and humiliating breakup, Louis Tomlinson finds himself on his would-be honeymoon with his best friend, Niall. However, this St. Lucian paradise is not all that it seems. Louis may be particularly vulnerable to an unusually handsome predator.

(one of the many vampire harry fics i read this month to get in the mood for writing my own! this one was so addicting and alluring- the air of mystery had me on the edge of my seat the entire time and the ENDING! it was vague and mysterious and PERFECT for the story!!!)

✰ Sugar Cube by @zanniscaramouche | 5k

Louis is fine. He knew this would happen. He knows. The beat up laptop stuffed under his mattress can attest to how much porn he’s watched and hell, he’s been on his knees in a piss stained alley for a few tenners. He’s not some scared blushing virgin.

Except. He kind of is.

(THIS. FIC. i was engrossed from start to finish and i genuinely cannot wait to read the full fic when the blff rolls around. the writing in this was exquisite- it evoked so much imagery and feeling in the reader and gosh, that ENDING! i can’t wait to find out what happens next!)

✰ Click by @allwaswell16 | 5k

When Louis got assigned a roommate, he wasn’t exactly thrilled, but as far as roommates go Marcel was a pretty good one. That was until Marcel started clicking a counter everywhere he went...

(i haven’t read very many marcel fics but i gave this one a shot and loved it! short and sweet and well-written! i loved the aspect of clicking too! it added an extra layer to the story! and of course, one can never go wrong with roommates to lovers!!) 

✰ take me to the stars by @lil0 / theweightofmywords | 6k 

Staring at his darling daughter, in the middle of the pasta aisle, Louis found himself on the edge of a neurotic breakdown.

"It’s your birthday tomorrow! And your papa better not do anything to muck it up! Because your dada worked very hard to organise it! And all of your aunties and grannies and granddads and friends will be there!” Louis continued in a sweet sing-song voice that seemed to get increasingly frantic as he continued. “And if your papa is in rut, then what? What’ll we do, honey girl? Your dada will be too busy! And your papa will be too horn-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, touching Louis’ arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s probably not even my rut. I can appreciate you… all of you… even when I’m not in rut.”

Louis looked at him skeptically, imagining the shitshow that would be Harry in rut, surrounded by family and friends, at their child’s first birthday party. “I hope you’re right, H.”

(this fic was so adorable and soft! i had a smile on my face the entire time! i don’t read a lot of fics where h&l are parents that don’t include pre-pregnancy but this sounded so cute that i couldn’t resist and i’m glad i gave it a shot! it’s well-written and lovely just like all other of this writer’s fics!!)

✰ which is sweeter love or its loss by @doncasterkitten / patdkitten | 6k

After he catches his boyfriend cheating on him, Louis runs away from London and answers an ad to housesit an estate in the Yorkshire Moors while the mysterious owner is away. It's easy enough to forget about his problems when confronted with the routine that exists in a former abbey in the moors, when the only people around are a cat and the caretaker.

And then the mysterious owner returns.

(another vampire harry fic! i loved the writing and the atmosphere in this fic which felt so real and developed despite it being a shorter fic! i loved the louis and harry here and the added aspect of louis getting over being cheated on and trying to escape. the story had a very ambiguous/open ending that worked perfectly for the story!) 

✰ shine a light upon your ground by @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount / louizsv | 9k

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

(this author’s writing style is always so immersive and evocative and this fic is no exception! i’m honestly floored by how she managed to write this wonderful story in ONE DAY! the smut was hot and although i definitely pictured H as Harry the entire time, i loved the aspect of mystery in his identity and that the reader could choose to imagine him as whoever they wanted!)

✰ kiss me in your chevrolet by @lougendarey / cinnamons | 12k 

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

(i love roadtrip aus and this one was so cute and lovely! the * troubles - don’t want to spoil - added another layer of depth to the story and i really enjoyed that too! their relationship was so cute and i loved how supportive and lovely harry was to louis in this fic when he needed it :’) also the ENDING!! i’m a sucker for endings like that - again, don’t want to spoil - and this one was so cute, i had a giant smile on my face!!! remember to read tags!)

✰ A Vivid and Wistful Memory by @lwtisloved / MyEnglishRose | 13k 

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

(this was so adorable!!! i’ve been craving some more quarantine fics and this one delivered so well! i loved the aspect of violin and flute playing, writing songs together, the neighbors to friends to lovers, and of course i loved louis’ cat, Snowball <3 such a lovely story and so so heartwarming! highly recommend!)

✰ until this blood runs cold by @soldouthaz | 14k

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

(amazing, perfect, wonderful as always! sarah’s writing is like a breath of fresh air and this story was truly incredible! i loved the atmosphere and the uniqueness of louis and harry’s jobs - never read anything like it, that’s for sure - and i’m just a sucker for vampire harry in general but sarah’s is perfect <333)

note: this fic is part of a series of vampire fics/drabbles (all of which are completely separate!) titled love bites which sarah and i are doing together so check it out!!!)

✰ UN(RE)SOLVED by @daddyharrie | 21k 

The ghoul boys are back, but this time around there are some unresolved feelings involved. Harry is a skeptic, Louis is not. Watch them go on their ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?

Or, BuzzFeed Unsolved AU.

(i actually re-read this last month and forgot to talk about it - a TRAGEDY, I’M SORRY - but this is pretty much one of my favorite fics of this year and of all time, hands down. it’s not even that i’m a buzzfeed unsolved fan- this fic is just so??? good??? i’ve read it over five times and i never get tired of this version of harry and louis or the story or the humor. also jealous harry >>>) 

✰ your eyes of blue, your kisses too by @loubellies | 22k

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

or the murder in the alleyway.

(so good!!! mar has really outdone herself with this one! historical au + mystery + detective harry is pretty much a recipe to win me over and this took all of those things and combined them perfectly! it’s fast paced and atmospheric - love the 1920s setting for this fic - and engrossing! and the smut was hot hot HOT!)

✰ Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 | 38k 

Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

(this was so amazing and so heartwarming! i loved the relationship between louis and harry here and especially how supportive and wonderful harry was with louis and trying to learn how to communicate with him :’) reading this fic was so comforting, i can’t explain it. i just read it in one sitting while laying in bed and i had the dopiest smile on my face at some parts. i don’t normally read fics with no smut but this one was so worth it)

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees. by @daddyharrie​ | 45k

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

(i’ve already recced this fic on here a few months back but it’s recently been finished so i will be screaming about it again. another favorite of this year and favorite of all time. i’ve reread this fic over and over since it’s finished and i never get tired of it. i love these characters and this storyline (which is so unique and refreshing, honestly) so much. the setting also makes me feel nostalgic in the best way)

✰ Since I’ve Found You by @all-these-larrythings / Rearviewdreamer | 74k

Louis woke up on the morning he was meant to volunteer at the Feed the Homeless program at St. Mary's church hoping for an opportunity to give back a little to a city that has given him everything he could ever want. Little did he know, there was one more great thing waiting there for him; a boy with radiant green eyes in a weathered jacket and a beat-up backpack slung over his shoulders.

(THIS. FIC. it was so cute and amazing! i don’t get the chance to read a lot of longer fics as much as i want to but i somehow read this in one afternoon because i couldn’t put it down. it was so heartwarming and i loved the progression of their relationship and louis was so lovely and so was harry and ugh, it was so good! the ending made me emotional too <3)

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[ificanthaveu]

The 1 || Harry Styles

Description: Based off The 1 by Taylor Swift (read the lyrics to get the gist of what this’ll be about)

A/N: WOOF my first harry fic!! The second I heard this song, I knew I had to make it into a fic. However, it just didn’t feel like it fit Shawn or Calum, and I just knew I had to use Harry for it. I’m in love with how this turned out and I’m so happy I have time to write again. Hope you love this as much as I do.

Word Count: 3k

Parking your car down the street from the large brick house, you got out and glanced at the homes as you passed them, with doormats with family names and numbers larger than necessary to indicate the address. Every yard was perfectly done with professional landscaping and lawn care, a stark contrast to your apartment upstate where you barely had enough time in the day to place a plant on the balcony.

“I’m telling you, the customer will be fine with it. I promise,” you explained through a sigh as you fiddled with your necklace.

You heard your assistant sigh as well, and you knew he was probably hunched over his desk and tugging at his shirt sleeves.  

“A four box shortage, [Y/N]? This is the second time we’ve done this to them in the past five months,” he said, the exhaustion evident in his voice as he stared at reports.

“And I will send them the backups we have of last year’s version. Everything will be fine,” you said calmly as you paced back and forth in the driveway once you made it to the house, your new heels clicking against the pavement.

“I don’t get how you’re so calm about this all the time,” he mumbled as you heard him typing.

“It comes with practice. Now finish the email and get over here,” you said.

“Whatever you say, boss,” he said through a laugh before hanging up.

You tucked your phone into your clutch and placed it back down by your side. You looked up at the house and took a deep breath before walking to the front door.

You pushed it open and were met with people filling the living room and kitchen, greeting people they didn’t know, and having conversations with people they did.

Your phone buzzed before you could find someone you knew, and you glanced down to see a text from your assistant Trevor.

Trevor: You were right. They took last year’s version no problem. You’re a genius.

You shook your head and laughed to yourself before sending an “I told you so” text and looking at the email you were copied on.

Starting and running your own online clothing store in college was one thing. But that turning into a chain of over 70 stores across the United States and Canada was a whole other thing.

But no matter how many nights you fell asleep at your desk at 2:00 am just to be woken up by Trevor coming in for work at 7:00 and begging you to go home and shower, you loved what you were doing.

You had genuinely never been happier. Even if you never thought you would be.

---

“What’s your happiest moment?” Harry asked as you sat next to each other, waiting for the Sunday matinee to start at your local theater.

You leaned your head back and look at him from the corner of your eye.

“I don’t know,” you said.

He had a slight smile as he looked back at you.

“That’s not an answer,” he whispered.

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a few pieces of the popcorn from the bucket sitting in his lap.

“I don’t think it’s happened yet,” you said simply.

“Hm,” he said, looking at the screen as the movie started playing.

Once the movie was done, the two of you walked back to his car, his hand lacing in yours naturally after he pulled you up.

“What do you think the best movie ever is?” You asked as he tugged you in the right direction.

“I don’t know,” he said, returning your reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you said as you crossed your arms as he unlocked his car and opened your door.

“I don’t think it’s been made yet,” he said before closing your door.

You sat alone with that thought before he climbed into the driver’s side.

“Why do you think it hasn’t been made yet?” You asked.

“Same reason your happiest moment hasn’t happened yet,” he said, resting his hand on the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking spot, making your heart race.

“We’re young,” he said, his eyes focusing on the road ahead. “I just think I have hundreds of movies that I still have to see. Just like you have millions of moments still to encounter.”

“See I think those are two different things,” you argued. “I still have to get married, have kids, start my dream business. But the classic movies, the ones everyone loves have already been made.”

He nodded his head, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Good point; however, I think the greatest films of all time were never made,” he said.

You stayed quiet, mulling the thought over in your head.

“How is that possible?” You ask, turning in your seat and resting your knee against the center council, fully enveloped in whatever he had to say.

“I just think someone out there has the most amazing idea for a movie anyone could ever think of, but he’s an engineer or a grocery clerk or a stay at home parent so he’ll never make it. We’ll never know.”

“But if it’s really going to be the greatest film, someone will come up with it and go through with it.”

“I don’t think so,” he said simply. “I think some stories are too good to be encapsulated into a film.”

“How so?” You questioned

Harry pulled up in front of your dorm building before turning towards you.

“You and I are the only ones that really know what today is like for us. Today could make the best film ever, and no one would ever know,” he said.

You let your smile tug at the corners of your lips as the concentrated look stayed on his.

“You think today is too good to be a movie?” You said quietly.

A blush crept up on his cheeks before he turned forward and leaned his head on the back of his seat.

He didn’t say anything, instead nodded his head and looked at you again.

The sun was getting dangerously closer to the horizon, reminding you of the homework you hadn’t finished yet.

Before you could second guess it, you leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, not allowing him enough time to even move his hands.

Without another word, you jumped out of the car and ran to the door without looking back to see the blush stay on his cheeks as he watched you.

---

You shook the reminiscent feeling as you walked forward, glancing at the pictures adorning the walls by the staircase.

Tanya, a friend from college, locked eyes with you from across the room as you quickly waved and made your way to her.

You greeted her with a quick hug as you sat down next to her on the sofa.

“It’s been way too long,” she said as she leaned back and you did the same.

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

“You’re just too damn busy to get ahold of. I’m surprised you even made it today,” she said with a confused look on her face.

“My assistant is going all the dirty work currently,” you said as you made a face.

“On a Saturday?” She questioned.

“Retail never quits.”

“How many stores now? Was it like 60 last time we talked?” She asked, leaning towards you to hear better as the party got louder.

“76 actually,” you said as her eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “77 next week when our newest one in Miami opens, which I’ll actually be headed to tomorrow morning.”

“Ms. CEO is really out here taking over the fashion industry,” she said with the shake of her head.

“That’s the goal,” you said with your customer service smile, a pang hitting you once again.

---

“Why are we doing this?” You said as Harry dragged you to the middle of the mall where the fountain was.

“You can’t just walk past one of these and not make a wish,” he said as he dug in his pockets.

“So we’re going to waste two cents just to wish for something that isn’t going to happen?” You asked with crossed arms.

“That’s the goal,” he said with a smirk before pressing a penny into your hand. “And you don’t know if it’s actually never going to happen.”

You went to throw it in before Harry’s hand enveloped yours.

“You can’t just throw it in like it’s nothing,” he said with an offended look on his face.

He kept his hands around yours, holding them together as the penny burned against your skin.

“We’re going to close our eyes, think of our wishes, and then count down and throw them in,” he said.

You simply nodded as you smiled at how into this he was.

“And you have to believe every bit of it or it won’t come true,” he said seriously. 

“Ok,” you whispered.

You both closed your eyes, and you rocked back and forth on your heels as Harry’s hands tightened around yours.

You peaked one eye open to see how concentrated he was as you thought of the only wish that made sense. 

I want it to be you.

“Ready?” He whispered.

You hummed in response as you both opened your eyes.

“Three,” he started the countdown.

“Two,” you cut in.

“One,” you both said as you threw your pennies over your backs and into the fountain, hearing them go in with a gentle splash.

Harry’s hand found it’s way back to yours as you tugged him to the candle store you came here for.

“What’d you wish for?” You asked him as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, your hands still laced together.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” he said.

“It was worth a shot.”

---

“You good?” Tanya asked as you snapped out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you said as you plastered your smile back onto your face.

You turned away from her as someone else she knew came up to greet her. Your eyes scanned the decorations around the room, mostly white, silver, and gold, also looking at the pictures once again.

And then you see him.

He’s laughing at something his friend said, his head thrown back as his curls flopped with it. He was wearing a button-down, like always, with not nearly enough buttons buttoned up. He sipped at a glass of rose as he turned to someone new with a new conversation.

He looked good. Really good.

He looked happy.

You stood up from the couch and made your way to the far wall of the room, pulling your phone out to see the newest message from Trevor telling you he was on his way.

You looked up from your phone and locked eyes with him.

He stopped his conversation as his eyes felt like they bore into your soul.

His hand lifted up to give you a gently wave and a smile as you returned it.

That smile still made you melt.

But it was gone in a moment as that look of hesitation washed across him.

---

Your final words were hurled at him as you sat down hastily on the couch. Your fingers knitting into your snarled hair as you tried to catch your breath and begged your tears to stop falling.

Harry continued to pace in front of you. The frustration radiating off him.

“I just don’t get it, [Y/N]. I don’t know what else you want me to do,” he yelled as he choked on his own words.

You stayed quiet, having answered this question already.

It wasn’t his fault. But maybe it was, and maybe it was yours or maybe it wasn’t. You couldn’t keep track anymore, and you were sick of the blame game.

You knew you wouldn’t be here if you would’ve brought it up weeks ago, how unloving he’d been lately. How distant he’d felt when his arm was thrown around you. How his answers were the same but somehow different.

You couldn’t pinpoint it anymore.

Everything just felt off.

It felt wrong.

It felt like he didn’t love you anymore. Or at least he wasn’t showing it.

“I don’t know, H,” you said softly, not having it in your heart to yell anymore.

He scoffed as he continued to pace, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“I’m not the only problem,” he said, stopping to look at you as you continued staring at the ground. “If this started months ago, why didn’t you say something then? It would’ve been a hell of a lot easier than this.”

“I don’t know,” you said more sternly this time.

“You never do,” he mumbled.

You didn’t reply to that one as you felt your heart slowly break into two as he sat down next to you. The familiar feeling of his leg pressed against yours was long gone as he sat on the opposite end of the loveseat.

“I deserve better than this,” you paused.

Harry waited for you to finish your thought, his hands balled up in tight fists.

“And so do you.”

You could feel him relax even if he wasn’t touching you, coming to the conclusion neither of you wanted to come to.

That you needed someone who showed every emotion they had face forward in order to understand.

And he just couldn’t give you that.

That he needed someone who spoke up everything they were thinking.

And you couldn’t give him that.

Your heart finally broke in two as you felt Harry’s arm wrap around you and pull you into his side, taking your legs and swinging them over his lap like you always would.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you,” he said softly.

You rested your head against his shoulder as your breathing slowed back to its regular pace.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you either,” you replied.

Once your tears stopped flowing, you removed his arm from across your legs and stood up.

And you left.

---

You continued to watch him as he grabbed a second glass of rose and made his way across the room, dodging in and out of people trying to talk to him.

He ended up in front of you and handed you a glass as you nodded to him as a thank you.

You didn’t feel the anxiety you thought would creep up into your stomach. You just felt content as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“Congratulations,” you whispered to him.

He nodded his head in thanks as he gave you that same soft smile you fell for.

You both looked across the room to see the Vice President of your company showing the glowing ring to some friends that Harry slipped onto her left ring finger just a few weeks ago.

You knew it would end up here.

Somehow, when Katherine raved to you about the guy she had gone on a few dates with after meeting him on Tinder, you knew this was going to be the guy she’d end up with.

You just didn’t think it would be the same guy you broke up with two years prior to that.

But even after Katherine and you pieced everything together, you insisted she kept seeing him.

She always radiated the type of energy you knew Harry was attracted to.

Her eyes met yours as she saw the two of you from across the room.

She raised her hand up to wave with a sparkling smile on her face.

You both waved back as she held up a hand to let you know she’d be over in a little bit before turning back to her current conversation.

“She always reminded me of you,” you said after a few moments.

Harry didn’t say anything, instead, he turned to look at you with a still face.

“Even before I found out about the two of you, she’d say something in a meeting, and I just couldn’t help but think you’d say the same thing in the same situation,” you explained.

“It just made sense, the two of you,” you said quietly.

Harry nodded again, taking a sip of his drink.

“Thank you,” he finally said after a minute of comfortable silence.

“For?”

He shrugged, not really knowing why he said that.

“For not freaking out, for being here, for being everything that you are.”

You thought something like that would make your heart shatter, but it didn’t.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” you paused. “For the both of you.”

He nodded again, this time looking a little upset. You could still read him like a book. You knew he was on the verge of saying something he wasn’t sure if he should actually say.

So you took the leap before he could.

“We were something, don’t you think so?” You said softly.

You looked at him as he looked across the room, watching Katherine as she talked to another one of your employees.

If you hadn’t been staring at him as intently as you were, you would’ve missed the slight nod of his head.

“But I’m not the one.”

He turned to look at you after he said that, and you locked eyes.

“I know,” you said as you smiled at him. “But wouldn’t it have been fun?”

Harry’s smile matched yours, adoring the way you just said what you were thinking. Something you had such a hard time with years ago.

He simply nodded his head, his smile not faltering as he held his glass up to yours.

You held yours up as well, hitting it against his with a small clink.

“To the future Mr. and Mrs. Styles,” you said.

He shook his head slightly, a smirk adorning his face.  

“I’ve done enough of those today,” he said.

He pulled back his glass to clink against yours again.

“To us.”

Share! Reblog! Comment! Send me love! 

Not tagging anyone on this bad boy since you signed up for Calum/Shawn, but send me an ASK if you’d like to be added and state FOR WHICH PEOPLE

[wintaejk]

Jungkook’s FIC REC | OS 2

I had too many links on the other post. Here is the second part of my Jungkook’s fic rec but with others themes.

Again, all those fictions belong to the amazing authors who wrote them, not me. I want to thank them once more. 

(f) = fluff

(a) = angst

(m) = mature

magical au

— Trick or Treat: Howling for You (F) (M) — by @fortunexkookie​

The way your Little Red Riding Hood costume lured over a fuckboy in a half-assed werewolf costume was a little cliche, but god damn was he beautiful. He promised he had plenty of big things to show you, and you took him up on the offer, not realizing that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

werewolf au | established relationship | +14k

— rottenfolk (M) — by @junqkook​

a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

faerie au | royalty au | +13k

Commentary - If there’s only one one-shot I could recommend you to read of all tumblr, it would probably be this one. For me, it is rare to acheive such a level of mastery in fantasy fictions. Writing is already complicated, but when you have to place the readers in an unknown universe, it is even harder.                         However, the real brilliance of this story is the end. Because the end is supposed to satiate the reader in a way or another, it is supposed to offer what all the reader craved: a sort of closure. But here we all are, waiting for a sequel, because this story will make you want a next episode. And that is the brilliance, because you will surely never forget a story with that kind of power.                         So those are some of the reasons why this fiction is for me a mix of art, smartness and excellence ; and also why you would be missing something huge by not reading it.

— overdrive (M) — by @junqkook​

you thought meeting jungkook was just a coincidence, but the universe didn’t deal in coincidences.

vampire au | soulmate au | enemies to lovers | +13k

— Crescent Bound - Jungkook (F) (M) — by @parkhabits​

A pact bound by the moon. A secret kept only amongst themselves. Each of them experiencing their own cycles of heat.

werewolf au | friends to lovers | +12k

— Room 109 (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

Having Jungkook as your apartment buddy was a lot to get used to. But with one early day, your heat comes up much stronger than usual, and you were desperate for an alpha’s touch.

werewolf au | roommate au | alpha!jungkook | +6k

— after dark (M) — by @seokoloqy​

Jungkook has served the royal family for generations, seen them live and die countless times. When it comes to you, he can’t watch you wither away too, but your lust for one another makes it harder and harder to stay apart.

vampire au | royalty au | knight!jungkook | +8k

— Life’s Blood (F) (A) (M) — by @littlenoona​

You produce blood cells at an increased rate when blood is lost, effectively, you cannot bleed out. This ability has served you well so far, even gaining you a rare friend, and you’ve made it your source of income, but it also has its downsides, one of which you’ve managed to avoid successfully, until now.

vampire au | +13k

— you come in waves (A) (M) — by @angelguk​

if jeongguk had a choice, he would destroy the sun. it’s not like he needed it for warmth due to his werewolf abilities making him a scorching radiator. it would also help his heart. because you look delectable in that stupid bikini.

werewolf au | friends to lovers au | 4k

— tell me your secrets (i’m all ears) (F) — by @jinpire​

You’re not afraid of Jeon Jeongguk. Even if he’s probably some kind of bear or giant cat shifter, and just a hint of his irritation had your instincts vibrating beneath your skin like a live wire. Your thumb brushed over the plastic dome of mini-Levi’s head, taking comfort in the cartoon scowl and dead eyes, the tiny grey sticks of his 3DM gear. Small could be pretty fucking powerful too.

shifter au | college au | bunny!kook | +6k

drabbles: nooks and naps - foxie moxie (don’t pull my tail) - look before you leap  - fluffles and kerfuffles

— Pomegranate Seeds (M) — by @taetaebaepsae​

Jungkook thinks he’s found the perfect new roommate, but little doesn’t he know you’re just aching to corrupt him.

demon au | roommate au | virgin!jungkook | +4k

other themes

— Every Kind of Way (F) (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

{Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK.}

strangers to lovers  | established relationship  | +14k

Commentary - I remember when this fiction was posted. I read the teaser a few days before, and I was waiting for it. I remember the exact date of the release of this story, and let me tell you it never happens to me. But this is how much I liked this story. This masterpiece.                         This fiction is 95% made of smut. This is a warning if you don’t like that. However, what I like about Ashley’s works is that smut is not only smut (okay, sometimes it’s just pure filth but whatever). It’s not the first time I’ve read a piece of work of her and that I’ve been so thankful of reading her. Because the stories she writes are realistic. Sex is not always perfect. Sex is not always like in porn. Sex can be embarrassing. And this is why I love what Ashley writes, because she always have that realistic point of view on life. And sometimes it’s also nice to not turn everything into porn.                          What is very likeable - I said likeable? I meant loveable, sorry - about that story is also the three different stages of the relation of Jk and reader. This is also something I like about her writings. Life evolves, relationships evolve, and so does sex. So in this story, you will experience three different Jungkook. And it’s three reasons why you should read this fiction, three reasons why you will probably love it.                          One thing is sure, this chef-d’oeuvre will leave you wondering if your eyes have been burnt by the smuttiness or blessed by all the talent of this writer.

— tattooed two (ft. kth) (F) (M) — by @httpjeon​

your boyfriend’s best friend joins you for a night you’ll never forget.

tattoo artist au | established relationship  | poly au  | +8k

— Inkling (A) (M) — by @gguksgalaxy​

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

tattoo artist au  | +17k

— Freak-quency (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

His eyes sparkle and he fights back a smile when he asks you why. “Is it because I didn’t give you something else to swallow like I said I would,” he questions, halfway through a much less subtle adjustment of his growing erection. Yoongi was right, he wants to be in trouble.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | +8k

— Boots (M) —

3000+ words of Ashley kinking on Jungkook’s boot. That’s it.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | part of Freak-quency  | +3k

— Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold (A) (M) — by @filmflowersbangtan​

It was around this time almost three years ago when Jungkook moved to LA after his band got signed to a famous record label. He told you that he’d keep in contact with you. That he’d visit as much as he could. That he loved you. But about a month after leaving, he stopped texting and calling as much. And then a mere week after the band’s first EP dropped, Burning Rabbit was a sensation.

rocksatr au | ex lovers  | +3k

— Brother’s best friend (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

In which Y/n owns a smut blog dedicated to her crush and brother’s best friend, jungkook. it was all fun and games until he finds out about it and acts it out with you.

brother’s best friend!jungkook  | +5k

— Sugarplum Elegy (F) (A) (M) — by @bymoonchild​

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

friends with benefits  | college au  | idiots to lovers | +17k

— The Kids Aren’t Alright (F) (A) (M) — by @sketchguk​

Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

friends with benefits  | pastor’s kid!reader  | +10k

— Gym (F) (M) — by @hobiwonder​

Jungkook has a crush on you and has been watching you work out at his gym. One day you finally confront his obvious crush.

business woman!reader  | fratboy!jungkook  | older reader | +8k

— Gravity Check (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook is your oh-so-handsome climbing instructor.

climbing instructors!jungkook  | strangers to lovers  | 14k

— The Monogamy Monologues (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

fuckboy!jungkook  | wedding planner!reader  | strangers to lovers  | +42k

— The Virgin Volume (F) (A) (M) —

This fic exists in the RMCC universe. It takes place before RMCC and is the story of how Jungkook lost his virginity. To quote Seokjin/Namjoon: “What Jungkook doesn’t know won’t hurt him and – let’s be honest – his story is hilarious. One pump,” Seokjin laughs, sounding like a hyena. “One pump and he’s done.” // Ducking his head, Namjoon tries not to smile. “It was a rookie mistake,” he protests, defending their friend. “Jungkook was overexcited and couldn’t control himself. He got better.”

college au  | friends to lovers  | prequel to TMM  | +6k

— everlasting (A — by @kimvvantae​

being able to love the same person forever is a blessing given from the heavens. to you, however, eternity has become a curse.

reincarnation au  | 18k

— Performances (M) — by @littlenoona​

The same handsome guy has been appearing at your performances and you become more and more interested in who he is - now you’re dancing only for him, despite a hall full of people.

strangers to lovers  | professional dancer!reader  | +6k

— Matching Hearts (F) (A) — by @gukwluv​

a drunk call to your ex boyfriend leads to a night of fun adventures that make you wonder why you even split in the first place.

exes au | +3k

— locker room talk (M) — by @minnpd​

You end up having a rather heated talk with Jeon Jungkook in the locker room when he announces he has been chosen for the audition you both participated to.

dancer au | enemies to lovers | fuckboy!jungkook | +5k

— not quite lovers (M) — by @junqkook​

hiring jeon jungkook as your personal assistant happens to have more than one perk.

workplace au | friends with benefits | ceo!reader | +15k

— By Its Cover (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook makes a very bad first impression.

workplace au | enemies to lovers | 21k

— Mind in the Gutter (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who?

workplace au | bowling au | strangers to friends to lovers | +18k

[labyrinth-runner]

Green or Blue

The Greatest Thing Chapter 8

Moulin Rouge Fanfic

Christian x OC

Words: 3k

Weeks turned to months and Christian felt himself becoming more and more familiar with Paris. When he first arrived, he would dance awkwardly to the rhythm of the night, and now his movements were fluid and second nature. His time was spent mostly writing or rehearsing, with the play slowly taking over his life. Getting to know Satine more and more, he grew to admire her, falling in love with the contrast that she represented. But, he knew they could never truly belong to each other. She was to be the Duke's, and he... well, he was beginning to wonder if his heart was truly his to give or if it still belonged to another. He thought of Estelle in fleeting moments, finding that the more he wallowed, the more disillusioned with this life he would become. Crumpled up papers littered his floor, the remnants of letters he destroyed before sending. None of them would be enough to undo the hurt he had undoubtedly caused her. He just hoped that she was happy wherever she was, and that she was being treated like the wonderful creature she was.

Words seemed to fail him every now and then as of late. He was stuck, unable to get past this one part in his draft where the penniless sitar player won over the courtesan. After spending hours with Satine trying to come up with a dialogue that felt natural, he'd gone home frustrated. He ran his hand through his hair as he fell back on his bed. The fact that the scene was later in the play comforted him, since he would have time to finish it, but he was still frustrated. He used to be able to wax on about love for hours, but lately he just found himself going through the motions. He could write treatises on freedom, beauty, and truth... but love? He was struggling. It vexed him even more that he couldn't write on the one topic he valued the most. His eyes fell over on the forgotten manuscript he had started when he first arrived in Paris. It had been left untouched for weeks, sitting there on the table and mocking him. His greatest love story, a story about falling in love while falling out of society, didn't have an ending. In truth, he didn't know how to end it, and thinking about how to end it was like a slap in the face. He could end it with the lovers growing apart, like some of the disillusioned literature of the time, but he wanted to give it a happy ending, but he also wanted that ending to be truthful. He sighed loudly. He could have a happy ending. Satine had offered him that happiness, and he could always go back to London if he was desperate enough. However, would he really be happy in either of those places? With Satine, he would never fully have her be his, and as much as he'd like to think he could handle that, deep down he knew it would tear him apart. In London, he'd grow bitter with society. Christian groaned.

"Is your play not going well?" a voice asked through the hole in his ceiling.

Christian looked up to find his short Parisian artist peering down at him.

"Toulouse, do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?" Christian asked.

Toulouse grimaced. "I feel like it's too early to be discussing what ifs. I think that if you've made a choice, then something told you it was the right thing to do in that moment."

Christian nodded. "And if you end up feeling miserable about it later?"

"Then you go upstairs to your neighbor's apartment and let him cheer you up," Toulouse grinned.

Christian smirked and shook his head. "I suppose I could use a distraction."

"Très bien," Toulouse winked before disappearing back into his apartment.

Christian went up the stairs and into the space, finding Toulouse staring intently at a canvas as he compared it to the woman in front of him.

"Christian, have you ever met Mademoiselle Avril?" Toulouse asked, gesturing to the woman.

"No, I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Although, I have seen you dance, Mademoiselle. You are quite good," he smiled.

"Call me Jane," she chuckled. "And, merci, Monsieur. They don't call me La Mélinite for nothing."

"Am I interrupting?" Christian asked.

"Not at all," Toulouse replied. "Besides, perhaps Jane can help with whatever is making you sigh so loud."

"I doubt that," Christian said with a sad smile.

"Try me," Jane challenged.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm not from here. I'm originally from London. I left a few months ago after being disowned by my father for wanting to join the Bohemian movement and be a writer," Christian told her.

"You're the one writing the play they're putting on at the Moulin, aren't you? It seems like you've achieved your goal," she replied.

"Yes and no," Christian sighed. "You see, I want to write about love, but I can't."

"Have you experienced love?" Jane asked.

"That's what I asked when he first got here!" Toulouse chuckled.

"I have," Christian said adamantly.

"Did she not love you back?" Jane followed up.

"I... I don't know," Christian admitted.

"You didn't ask her?" Jane asked incredulously.

"Well, I never really told her that I loved her either," Christian replied.

"Toulouse, you might have warned me that your friend is an idiot," Jane teased.

"He's friends with me, Jane, I thought it was implied," Toulouse winked.

Jane shook her head. "Men. Scoundrels of the Earth."

"Not intentionally," Christian reassured her.

"Oh, I know, some of you are not intentionally," she winked. "That doesn't change the fact that you are, though. However, if you never knew for certain that it was love, then perhaps that's why you can't write it. Deep down, you feel like a fraud. Or, maybe you just can't stand giving happiness to your characters when you denied it for yourself."

"That's silly," Christian replied.

"Hey, I'm not Freud, I'm just a woman who is trying to help you," she shrugged. "Have you spoken to her since you left?"

"No," Christian admitted.

"Thought about her?" Toulouse asked.

"Yes," Christian sighed. "When life gets quiet, she creeps in. Sometimes I'll see or do something and I'll think about how she might have enjoyed that. Sometimes I feel guilty when I'm with Satine, but then I have to remember that she could be with someone else. I'll write things and I'll realize they're conversations that she and I have had."

"You miss her," Jane commented sadly.

"I do."

"Do you still love her?" Toulouse asked as he swapped out to a new canvas.

"I... I don't know. I love what I remember, but she could be different now. I know I'm different now. She could hate me for leaving. She could have just been humoring me when I was there, and now she could be with someone who's better for her," Christian replied.

"Describe her," Toulouse smirked.

"What do you want to know?" Christian asked, sitting down on a backwards chair, resting his chin on the back.

"Everything. What does she look like? What does she think like?" Jane smiled, sitting down next to Toulouse.

"Well, she's my star. Her name is Estelle, but I've called her Ellie since we were kids," Christian smiled wistfully, "She's always been very headstrong, but she wants to do the right thing and sometimes that will outweigh her own wants. Her hair is dark, like roasted chestnuts in the winter. She usually has it pulled back out of her face these days, but back when we were younger, she always left it free so that she could feel the wind in her hair. It was quite funny, because she has these curls, and when she would run, they would bounce like a spring, always hitting her in the face. Perhaps that's why she has it pulled back now, so that it doesn't assault her face. She's pale, but not in a sickly way. It's almost as if the moon glows from within her skin. Her face fits perfectly in your hands when you hold it. Her lips are rosy, and her cheeks sometimes turn the color of a tomato if you say the right thing. She's not easy to ruffle these days, I think that comes mostly from having to grow up a little too soon after her mother died. However, when we were children she was quite easy to fluster," he grinned.

"So, she's a childhood friend of yours?" Jane asked.

"Yes, but we were out of touch for years. We only recently reconnected during the London social season," Christian explained.

"Is that when you fell in love with her?" Toulouse asked.

"I think a part of me has always admired her, but it didn't deepen until now. Prior to the season, the last time I had seen her, she seemed so small," he explained, brow furrowing. "Her mother had just started to become ill. Her mother would have headaches now and then, but they were starting to get more and more frequent and strong enough to keep her in bed. I suppose that was the beginning of the decline for her mother. She died a year and a half later."

A sad smile settled on his face as he remembered when she told him about it.

He'd been looking for her so that they could go on another adventure into the nature behind their estates, but she wasn't home. He checked around their usual hiding spots until he spotted her sitting on the bank of the river, holding her knees to her chest. As he got closer, he could hear her sniffling.

"Ellie?" he asked softly. "Are you alright?"

Estelle jumped and quickly rubbed her eyes. "I'm fine."

Christian frowned, settling down next to her. "You're crying."

"No, I'm not," she sniffed.

"Ellie, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything," he said in concern, wrapping his arm around her.

"It's my mother," she sighed. "Her headaches are getting worse. The doctor doesn't know why she keeps getting them. Dad said she has good days and bad days, but she's not... she's not the same even on those good days."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She's tired easily. She used to love music, but now she's irritable at loud noises," Ellie explained. She turned to look at him with wide eyes. "Christian, I'm scared. I don't know what's happening to my mother."

"I'm sure the doctor will be able to help her," Christian reassured her, but he knew that wasn't always the case. "I'm here for you, Ellie. No matter what. I promise."

Estelle nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You're a good friend, Christian."

"And her eyes?" Toulouse asked.

"Hmm?" Christian asked, coming out of it.

"You didn't describe her eyes," Toulouse repeated.

"Well her eyes are..." he trailed off. He tried to picture her, but for some reason he couldn't see her eye color in his mind's eye. "They're... they're either green or they're blue."

"You can't remember?"

"I think I've forgotten," Christian said softly. "But, they are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen. She's got a quiet strength in them. A resolve. I just hope that resolve never turns into resignation."

Toulouse smiled and moved his hands across the canvas.

"What was it like seeing her again?" Jane asked, noticing that Christian's demeanor had become solemn.

Christian perked up at the question. "It was... well... I had a few feelings in that moment. First of all, I saw her before she had first seen me," he chuckled. "I had introduced myself to this one woman who turned out to be Ellie's best friend. A dumb stroke of luck on my part. I only introduced myself to Ms. Renton because the bow on her dress had come untied and I didn't want her to trip. Then, we started talking, and I looked over her shoulder and saw my Ellie with the Queen. Part of me felt like returning home after being on a long trip away, wondering how things would have changed while I was gone. Another part of me was feeling a rush of nerves, because I wasn't sure that she'd recognize me, and if she didn't, then would she remember me? Then, the last part of me felt like I was being visited by some celestial creature. Watching her walk across the ballroom, I saw the spark in her eyes and I knew she remembered me."

"What was she wearing?" Toulouse asked.

"A green dress, embroidered with flowers. It was fitting, really," he said with an amused smirk.

"How so?" Jane asked curiously.

"You see, later that night we discussed how women were like flowers," Christian smiled dreamily at the memory. "She always did have a way with words and metaphors."

"Even more so than you?" Toulouse asked.

"We had the same tutor for a while growing up," Christian explained. "She always did get better marks than I did in English. She was especially fond of poetry."

"Have you ever written her a poem?"

"No. I haven't. I don't think I could capture all those feelings into one poem. It would take a novel to tell her how I felt," he sighed.

Toulouse finished what he was painting and leaned back. "Then, write her a novel, Christian."

"I've tried. I've gotten thoroughly stuck with the ending," he explained.

"Write the truth," Toulouse replied.

"That's the problem, I've run out of truth to write," Christian groaned.

"Then your story isn't over, either," Toulouse winked.

"She's in London," Christian sighed, "I'm here. That's as over as it could get."

Toulouse shook his head and got off his stool. He took his painting and turned it to show Christian. It was a portrait of Estelle based off the descriptions that Christian had been able to provide. "Physically, she may be in London, mon ami, but we both know the place she truly resides is right here," he said, tapping Christian's chest.

"Toulouse," Christian said softly, taking the painting from him. His eyes scanned over the picture. Toulouse had taken a gamble and painted blue eyes.

"Blue. They definitely are blue," Christian murmured, seeing her almost as if she were actually there. He turned to his friend and frowned, "I don't have anything to pay you with."

"Consider it a thank you for your friendship," Toulouse waved him off. "Most people would have fixed the hole by now. But, I appreciate you not forcing me to. It leaves more funds for art supplies."

Christian grinned and shook his head. "I'll go hang it up."

"Perhaps you should write home while you're at it?" Jane asked, getting up to leave. "I have to get back to the Moulin, but I'll see you two later."

Christian walked out with her and returned to his own apartment. Surveying the walls, he finally found a place to put it, sitting down on his couch to admire it. Perhaps Toulouse was right. Perhaps their story wasn't over yet. One could only hope. His gaze fell over to his typewriter and he sighed. Pulling out a piece of paper, he quickly typed up a letter to William. Then, he put it in an envelope and dropped it in the mail on his way to the Moulin Rouge for rehearsal.

As he walked into the space, Satine sidled up to him. "You seem different tonight."

"I've had a lot on my mind," he smiled.

"I see. Well, if you want, I can help clear your mind and make it go blank for a bit," she winked.

He blushed, coughing slightly to recover. "T-that's... I-I mean..."

"Alright, people, I want you all to get to work, this is my money you're wasting," The Duke huffed as he strode into the building, dropping his coat and hat into Christian's arms.

"My dear," the Duke smiled at Satine, offering her his arm.

Satine plastered her smile on and took it, but she turned to Christian and pointedly told him, "Think about it."

The Duke led her away and Christian let out a shaky breath. Rehearsal started and he went to work on the script. However, his mind went places, thinking about what Satine had said, but the Satine in his head quickly morphed into Estelle. He blushed even darker, a bit ashamed of thinking about her like that. Christian turned his attention back to rehearsal, forgetting about the script and getting lost in his previous words being spoken aloud. The first few scenes were good, and they were working on blocking it all in between dance numbers. Slowly though, people started to trickle away to get ready for that night's entertainment until it was only Christian left in the space. His mind replayed the penniless sitar player meeting the courtesan. He wondered what it might be like to meet Ellie again for the first time since becoming his own penniless self. Would she reject him like the courtesan does initially, or would she be happy to see him? All he knew was that should the world deign to put them together again, he would be over the moon.

[missytearex]

Got some quality fics for you guys this week! I really enjoyed these, go check them out!

🌸 Orion’s Belt by @londonfoginacup — [fic post]

stylinshaw | 24k | mature — (soulmates)

Louis and Nick have been in a happy committed relationship for two years, their matching soulmarks on display for the world to see. It’s been them against the world, the alpha/beta singer and radio DJ power duo.

All that changes on February 1st, when they wake up to a third matching soulmark.

As they say, the course of true love never did run smooth.

🌸 in the summertime, when the weather is fine by @mybfhas27tattoos

ziam | 3k | teen and up — (pool boy liam)

This was supposed to be a relaxing summer. That’s why Zayn’s here at his parents’ house rather than at the elite internship he’d been offered in London.

But apparently this summer his parents decided to get their pool renovated and just had to hire the single most attractive person Zayn’s pansexual ass has ever laid eyes on. So now he’s not even safe within the comforts of his own room because every time he glances out the window, he sees the image of the new pool boy’s perfectly sculpted, shirtless chest.

So no. This isn’t a relaxing summer. Nothing about Zayn hopelessly drooling over a guy who’s at his house all the time being stunning and shirtless and completely unattainable while Zayn hides out in his room, too socially awkward to even so much as go outside and introduce himself, is relaxing.

🌸 Ghoulish Delights by @mybfhas27tattoos — [fic post]

larry | 7k | explicit — (established relationship)

When the Tomlinson family goes to Disneyworld for the first time, Harry’s determined not to ruin the day, which means he’ll even go on the Haunted Mansion despite how scared it makes him. When the ride faces technical difficulties, Harry’s anxiety reaches an overwhelming peak and Louis takes matters into his own hands… and mouth.

🌸 Heads you win, tails I win by @ponymom-stuff — [fic post]

larry | 0.6k | not rated — (halloween)

Louis leaves the choice for a couples Halloween costume in Harry’s hands. There are repercussions.

🌸 Entertain Me by @jacaranda-bloom — [fic post]

larry | 5k | explicit — (writer louis)

PART 5

Every Tuesday, Louis spends his day off holed up in his favorite coffee-come-bookshop, writing his little stories as part of the WordPlay challenge while daydreaming about the resident barista, Harry. Each week a new word prompt is revealed and Louis adds to his series of short stories about Henry, the owner of a B&B in the Cotswolds who has curly hair and dimples, Lewis, his long term guest who just happens to be a writer, and Tigger, Henry’s cat.

As Louis and Harry’s friendship develops, could his fantasy world spill out into real life? And how does that reader who leaves the lovely comments with the teacup emoji seem to be able to read Louis’ mind?

🌸 Like Honey to the Bee by @lululawrence — [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 2k | not rated — (fluff and humour)

the one where Nick has been trying to find a way to get past the banter stage with Louis for ages, and honey might be just what he needs to finally do so.

🌸 Rear View by @uhohmorshedios — [fic post]

zaynshaw | 12k | mature — (mechanic zayn)

Nick’s car breaks down at the start of a road trip and Zayn’s the mechanic who tows him to his small town, where it looks like he’ll be stuck for a few days.

🌸 I’m Tripping Over Your Every Single Move by @andtheywerebandmates — [fic post]

larry | 5k | teen and up — (meet-cute)

Harry is the local swimming star athlete and Louis is the lifeguard that turns Harry into a fish out of water.

🌸 Better Than Ice Cream by aggressivelyfriendly — [fic post]

gryles | 5k | teen and up — (angst)

Their love was short and sweet. The question is if you can put dropped ice cream back on the cone?

🌸 My Favourite Word by @lightwoodsmagic — [fic post]

larry | 3k | not rated — (college/uni)

Louis’ ex boyfriend won’t leave him alone, so Harry steps in.

🌸 sweet and lowdown by @humhalleloujah — [fic post]

larry | 13k | teen and up — (1920s)

Harry is about to be married for the fourth time, Louis’ never been kissed, Niall can’t cook, Liam can’t dance, and none of them are very good at acting.

🌸 one more time as if we planned it by @humhalleloujah — [fic post]

louis/alex gaskarth | 3k | general audiences — (meet cute)

Alex is a street musician, Louis hates his job, and Venmo brings them together.

🌸 I’ve spent a lifetime running (and I always get away) by Anonymous — [fic post]

larry | 5k | teen and up — (travel)

The eruption of an Icelandic volcano (the name of which Louis decidedly cannot pronounce) really shouldn’t be the catalyst for a relationship with a boy he’s only just met. Or // the one where Louis and Harry share the back of a car, a cramped bed on a dingy, highly unsafe boat, and their adoration for art (and perhaps each other).

🌸 Sing It Back by @reminiscingintherain — [fic post]

larry, ziam | 2k | teen and up — (1d reunion)

The first interview.

🌸 baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle by @hlplease — [fic post]

larry | 24k | explicit — (bartender louis)

that one fic in which harry loves attention, louis is a little guarded, and nothing (including arranged hookups, surprise munches, margaritas, vegan food, mutual (unnoticed) pining, and new career moves) can keep them apart.

🌸 Thursday by @haztobegood — [fic post]

larry | 1k | teen and up — (office)

Thursday: Louis can’t find his stapler.

Nothing less than mischief is to be expected when Niall, Liam, Zayn, Louis, and Harry spend forty hours a week in corporate hell. Welcome to One Direction Financial - The Right Direction for Your Money.

🌸 Friday by @haztobegood — [fic post]

larry | 2k | teen and up — (karaoke)

Friday: Harry joins his coworkers for a night of karaoke.

Nothing less than mischief is to be expected when Niall, Liam, Zayn, Louis, and Harry spend forty hours a week in corporate hell. Welcome to One Direction Financial - The Right Direction for Your Money.

🌸 Build me up, buttercup (don’t break my heart) by @rainbowsandlovehl — [fic post]

larry | 6k | general audiences — (miscommunication)

Harry is frustrated by the antics of the loft’s honorary fourth roommate, Louis, and would love not to be confused for once.

🌸 With Words Unspoken by Anonymous — [fic post]

larry | 18k | explicit — (older louis/harry)

At forty-nine, Louis hadn’t envisioned being at a crossroads in his life; kids, grandkids, an ex-wife, and completely at a loss as to what direction his future will take. When he finds himself drawn back to a cabin in the Californian wilderness that’d he’d visited fifteen years earlier, an acquaintance from his past triggers an awakening deep inside and reveals a new path that he could never have imagined.

OR The one where Louis is lost, Harry is an excellent tour guide, and age is no barrier to finding the love of your life.

Remember to leave kudos + comments to show your appreciation!

More lists here.

[ai-suru-hito-yo]

Waiting For Someone To Release Me (Pt 1.)

Pairing: one-sided Roger x Reader, John x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You met the boys of Queen while working at a pub during one of their gigs. You didn’t expect them all to be so ridiculously talented and attractive (of course that could simply be the fact you hadn’t seen any action in months talking) and you especially didn’t expect them to become a constant part of your life in any way.

Warnings: none really, alcohol (this part takes place in a pub), terrible summary, tags will change as the story progresses

A/N: I started writing this as part of @rogerina-deacon‘s 1k challenge, and y’all, she got away from me. I’m gonna have to post it in at least four parts, the second of which I should have up tomorrow (Saturday). Based on Christina Aguilera’s “Genie In A Bottle”, which is also where the title comes from. This first part is a little shorter, and is mostly just setting the scene. All mistakes are mine. Also, to all you Roger stans, I’m sorry. It gets better, and then it doesn’t. Fair warning, I’m gonna hurt him.

Part 2

———————————————————————————————————–

You were working to put yourself through college when you met the boys, a master at the oh so coveted position of server at an absolute dive of a pub, though you did have to admit the music scene there was great. The manager somehow had a knack for scheduling the best bands, though he himself had no music ability whatsoever, and this night was no exception.

There were two college bands lined up back-to-back, and since he claimed you had the most experience and were the most professional, your manager had insisted you help personally take care of the bands. Two others were chosen to help you with the task, and the three of you would spend the night being exclusive servers to the musicians.

The job could either be wonderful or terrible depending on the night and on the talent booked.

Your two helpers for the night, Colin and Rachel, had taken on the task of serving the larger, seven person group and left you with the smaller group, four lads who called themselves Queen.

You took a deep breath and braced yourself for the worst before making your way to the partially hidden booth at the back where Queen had set up camp for the evening.

“Hello, gents,” you called as you stepped up to the table. “My name is (Y/N) and I’ll be looking after you four exclusively tonight. If you need anything at all or have any questions or concerns, I’m your girl. Now to start, could I get you all some drinks, perhaps?”

The raven haired one to your immediate right spoke up first.

“Oh, perfect, darling. We’ll surely have a wonderful night! I’m Freddie, and I’ll have a vodka soda please, dear.”

Freddie was quite handsome and exotic looking. You noted something of an accent to his speech that indicated time spent far from this little corner of London.

“Coming right up, Freddie,” you replied with a little wink, which in turn caused a big grin to spread across the man’s face. He turned to the very tall man next to him and whispered what sounded like, “I like this one!” The man chuckled, his shoulders and his beautiful, dark curls bouncing. You watched as he turned his lovely smile toward you.

“I’ll have a glass of grapefruit juice, please. I don’t like to drink before shows. I’m Brian, by the way.”

“Lovely to meet you, Brian,” you responded. It truly was lovely to meet him, he was very polite and soft spoken. He intrigued you, like there was something much more to this gentle giant, something complex. Your gaze lingered on him perhaps a moment too long before you were brought back to earth.

“'Ere, love, what have you got on tap?” A high, raspy voice came from your immediate left, directly opposite Freddie. You turned toward the source and nearly did a double take.

Are all the members of this band ridiculously attractive? You thought to yourself. The man (for upon closer inspection, this creature definitely appeared male, if not entirely human) who looked up at you was breathtakingly beautiful. His features were even softer and more delicate than those of the other two men you had already spoken to. Waves of shining, blond hair framed a slim face from which huge, very round, sky-blue eyes stared at you. Eyes which looked you down and back up again. Ugh. Could he be any more obvious? One eyebrow was cocked and a smug smile pulled at one corner of the man’s mouth.

“Have you got any cheap pale ales?” The man’s nose even twitched when he spoke. How cute. You mentally shook yourself. Damn invasive thoughts.

“I’ve got Whitbread,” you suggested,

“Perfect, luvvie,” the man said, before shooting you another smirk and slipping his sunglasses back on. Why he needed them inside the dimly lit bar you did not know.

“That’s Roger,” Brian said. “The biggest ‘member’ of them all.”

“Oi! Watch it, Bri! I might have to–!”

“Okay, a Whitbread for Blondie!” you interrupted, sensing already that Roger might be a bit of a handful. Freddie clapped his hand together and laughed as Roger pouted. You ignored them and leaned a little closer to address the quietest member of the group. Once you got a good look, though, you felt your mouth go dry and suddenly felt like your throat was closing up.

The man sitting beside Roger was the most magnificent creature you had ever seen. He was somehow both cute and incredibly sexy as he leaned back casually, observing everything around him. The golden tawny mane that tumbled down the man’s shoulders looked soft and luxurious, and your fingers itched to reach out and touch. He had a strong nose which was perfectly rounded on the end and drew attention to the plush, pink pout of his lips. His green-grey eyes seemed to take in every detail, and when the met your own, you felt as if the man were staring into your soul.

“Uh,” you addressed the man eloquently.

“This is our dear bassist, John,” Freddie offered with a secretive smile. “He’s also our tech wizard and our financier.”

You finally recovered from your small crisis and flashed Freddie a soft smile before turning your attention back to John.

“A Jack of all trades, I see. Well, what about you, love? Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll have three fingers of whiskey. Whatever is cheap will be fine, please and thank you.”

John’s accent hinted at a northern heritage, and his voice was immediately calming to you. He was just as polite as Brian, and you already felt yourself swooning.

“Coming right up, John,” you said with a soft smile, and with one more glance at the man, you turned to make your way back to the bar.

As your poured the drinks, you eyed up the whiskey shelf, weighing your options. Someone who drinks plain whiskey must drink it because they like the taste of it, however John had ordered something cheap, so you reasoned he must be on a budget. You quickly grab one of the top shelf bottles and pour out the desired amount. As you add it to their tab under the price of the pub’s cheapest variety, you told yourself you were simply providing good service and placed it on your tray between Brian’s juice and Roger’s cheap ale.

———————————————————————————————————–

The rest of the night passed smoothly, the bar was packed to the breaking point with patrons come to hear the live music, but thankfully no one decided to start any conversations with their fists, and it seemed no one had been sick on the floor, as had happened the past two times you had worked a live show night. Both bands played wonderfully, and except for a small sound problem, which John fixed in about five minutes, the performances went very smoothly.

You found you really liked Queen, they were one of the better bands you had seen perform in your time at this particular pub, and they seemed to have real potential.

Freddie’s voice was clearly very special, powerful and unique to anyone you had heard before. You could tell he was also a very capable pianist.

Brian was a sorcerer on his guitar, able to create sounds you had never heard before, sustain solos you thought would never end, looking like some ethereal creature under the stage lights while making it all look effortless.

Even Roger, you had to admit, left you cheering. You were very impressed by his speed on the drums, moving faster than any drummer you had seen before and creating strong, solid beats for the other three to follow. His voice was also very special. Halfway through one song, you could not seem to recall the name of it, he let out a high, sustained screech that you originally thought came from a distressed patron. When the crowd started cheering instead, you looked to the stage to see Roger eating up the attention. You paid closer attention after that and soon realized the man had an amazing falsetto voice, and could hit notes you had once thought only dogs cold hear.

You were not really sure what to think of John for most of the night. You did not see him sing much, if at all, and he stayed back from the crowd at first. You thought he seemed very shy and nervous which you thought was strange for a member of a rock band. Around halfway through their set, Queen played their longest song of the night, a song Freddie introduced as “Liar”. The song seemed to instill some confidence in John, for soon he started dancing around in place and appeared to enjoy the music more. There came a call and response portion toward the middle, and you found you could truly not look away. Freddie leaned back against John as they shared a microphone and the crowd went wild. You thought you could even hear a few people shouting the words back at the appropriate times. They were captivating, and it was clear to you that John did know haw to work a crowd, even if he was too shy to actually do it. Then came his solo. You watched closely as John went wild, strumming hard and fast, and you felt your mouth go dry again watching his rather large hands coax such raw sound from his bass guitar. You cheered along with the crowd as John executed a slide that sent shivers down your spine. He caught your eye and smirked, and for the rest of the night, John was unstoppable. He danced around the stage, and occasionally jumped up to the drum riser to reconnect with Roger. Together they were clearly a powerhouse, a strong and stable foundation to build upon.

The band had just left the stage and you were making your way back to them to check in and tell them you loved their performance when you thought you heard someone shout your name from across the pub. You turned toward where you thought it had come from, but did not see any familiar faces, only people chatting among themselves and gearing up to move along home for the night. You shrugged it off and made your way to the table where you could see Freddie still clearly hyped up on the adrenaline of performing.

“Hello again, gents,” you said as you approached, trying to reign in your excitement for them and remain as professional as possible. “Just checking in again, can I get you anything else?”

“(Y/N)! Dear how was it? Did you enjoy the show?” Freddie was bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of you, skin and hair still glistening with sweat, a bright, almost manic glimmer in his eyes. “Honestly, please tell me honestly, did you like us?”

“Freddie, yes!” you answered with a laugh. “Queen is wonderful. Really, you are! I’ve seen a lot of bands come through here, a lot of really good bands, but you lot are really something else. I was captivated by each of you from the first note.”

Freddie screamed before grabbing you around the shoulders and smashing you against his chest in a bone-crushing hug. It was a little gross, as he was so sweaty and it had soaked through his stage costume, but you still brought your arms up and returned the embrace. You were finding you liked Freddie more and more as the night wore on.

“Alright, Fred, give the poor thing room to breathe!” came Brian’s voice. “I’m sure (Y/N) would like to go home and not have to nurse any cracked ribs.” Freddie gave you one last squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek before letting you go and turning to pack up his own gear. “Please forgive him. He’s like a puppy sometimes, he gets way too excited after a show, especially with a good crowd like this.”

“It helps that they had great music to respond to. I mean it truly, Queen is great. You’d have to be dead not to be moved by at least one of your songs.”

Brian laughed at that, shoulders and curls shaking once again, and said, “Well, thank you for such honest and…creative approval.”

“You’re welcome! Now really, is there anything I can get for you gents? Perhaps one more drink to toast a great show?”

“I’ll take another drink and your number,” came that now familiar, raspy voice. You turned around to see Roger, already changed out of his stage clothes, approaching you with a smug look on his face. He was actually a good bit taller than you originally thought he was. Perhaps it was a trick of perception, with him sitting behind the drums for the last hour, your subconscious just assumed he would be significantly shorter than his band mates.

“Seriously, Rog?” Brian cut in before you could answer. “Cool it, eh? (Y/N)’s on the clock.”

Roger opened his mouth to argue, but you cut across him. “I’ll go grab those drinks, eh?”

“Only if you’ll have one with us!” Freddie called to you. “Please?”

You sighed. You really should refrain from drinking on the job, but you were also assigned to take care of Queen and see to any doable request they may have. You figured one little drink would be fine.

“Oh all right, Freddie,” you answered, shaking your head. “Same for everyone?”

“Perfect, darling!”

“Make mine a lager, please? I’d like something a little stronger now, post show.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yes, please,” came a voice you had not heard since before the show started. John was watching from where he had a long, rectangular case, which you assumed held his guitar, tipped against a wall next to what looked like a plain-looking cabinet speaker. “I’ll come help you.”

“Okay,” you said with a small smile. He gave you a pointed look, and you knew he could tell you had been giving him one of the better quality liquors and passing it of as bottom shelf. “Thank you, John.”

You turned back toward the bar and felt rather than heard John follow closely behind you. He sat on a stool at the end of the bar while you ducked behind the counter, fixing everyone’s drinks and finding one for yourself.

“So did you really like it?” John asked suddenly, his finger tracing through a ring of condensation left behind on the bar. He glanced up at you from beneath his long eyelashes before he looked back down to the moisture on the dark wood. Seeing the confused look on your face, he added, “The show. Did you really like our music that much?”

“Oh! Yes!” you said, putting your drink pouring on hold to lean against the bar in front of him. “I meant every word I said. I truly think you four have a lot of potential and I cannot wait to see what Queen becomes. You really blew me away with that solo of yours, John. I was truly captivated.”

John looked up at you and smiled then, and in that moment, you knew you were in trouble. The way his eyes crinkled around the edges sent your heart aflutter, and you were certain the little gap between his perfect front teeth was the cutest thing you had ever seen. You knew you had to see him again, and were just about to ask when and where their next show was when a familiar voice boomed down the bar at you, making your skin crawl.

“Oi! What’s it take for a real man to get service around here, eh?!”

Your eyes widened as you turned, horrified, to face your absolute prick of an ex boyfriend.

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

Kiss It

Title: Kiss It

Pairing: erasermic

WC:3k+

Rating: Teen

Notes: I was tagged in the “Favorite fic” game where everyone gets to vote on which of my fics I should write a continuation of and Ice It was the winner! If you haven’t already read that fic, you’re going to need to in order to get the full story. Please go check it out here. This was a lot of fun. Thank you for choosing Ice It!

Read it on ao3 here

Kiss It

The doctor's visit goes about as well as Shouta expected it to, getting Hizashi there, on the other hand, went much differently than he ever thought it would.

Every other time Hizashi had turned up hurt after patrol, he'd given the other man his bed and slept on the couch, needing to put forth no more effort than dodging some half-hearted teasing from the voice hero. After their shared confession in the bathroom that evening, though, Shouta hadn't thought twice about offering to share his bed. If anything, it had made him wonder just how sincere all those other mumbled, exhausted requests from the blond had been.

Could he have had this sooner? Months ago? Years ago?

Sleeping together was nice, comfortable and warm in ways his bed had never felt before. He'd drifted off thinking he could get used to this, that he never wanted to go back to anything before this. He’d felt satisfied with each breath he took, laced with the light scent of his green tea shampoo mixed with the lingering lavender and vanilla that always seemed to envelope Hizashi’s body. He’d even enjoyed the little creaks his bed frame made when the other man moved, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that impossibly, that night had really happened.

Waking up had been a different story. The bags of ice he’d placed on Hizashi’s bruised leg had melted, leaving a cold, damp spot on the sheets. The heating pad beneath the voice hero’s aching back had turned off automatically, thankfully, but the cord was twined around Shouta’s hand and wrist. To top it off, somehow, the injured man had wrapped himself around Shouta in his sleep, and by Shouta's own arms and legs tangled in among the blond’s in return, he wasn't the only guilty party.

This had led to a rather painful extraction for both of them, Shouta's ears ringing for a good half hour afterward and Hizashi rubbing tenderly at his chest the entire ride to the hospital.

After a lengthy series of x-rays, and a bashful grin from Hizashi that almost looked like he was proud of the 4 broken ribs the doctor pointed to on the light up screen, they'd been sent back with some painkillers, bandages, a cast and crutches, and a rather forceful recommendation for bed rest. The doctor had said Hizashi was lucky, that the modifications to his body’s internal structure, namely, the extra cartilage that allowed his chest to expand beyond normal when he pulled in air for those powerful shouts, had likely saved him from organ damage.

Shouta had been concerned, making a note to drag Hizashi to a doctor immediately next time this happened, no more playing nurse with an overused and under stocked first aid kit in each other’s bathrooms.

Hizashi had scratched at the baby blue cat Band-Aid over his nose and asked about replacing it for stitches, hardly even paying the idea of a punctured lung any mind, despite it being a rather vital part of his job.

They thanked the doctor and headed out. They'd make a trip to Recovery Girl on Monday to see about setting up a healing schedule to shorten Hizashi’s forced bed rest by a few weeks, but for now, Hizashi seemed happy to spend a few days doing nothing, a nice change of pace for the overwhelmingly busy hero. Shouta had to admit he was a little happy himself. He might have put up a stink about playing Hizashi’s caretaker in the past, but he’d never truly minded it. It usually meant taking some time off himself, and being able to be close to the other man in ways he couldn’t when they were still keeping up their facade of just friends.

After last night, they hadn’t even discussed if Hizashi would be crashing at Shouta’s place until he healed. There was a silent understanding when Shouta helped the other man into the car and opened up a water bottle from the case he kept in his trunk, handing over one of what would probably be many painkillers over the next few days. Hizashi thanked him and leant his head against the window, watching without question as Shouta turned right, rather than left, out of the parking lot.

The blond had yammered on about plans to decorate his crutches and pointed to where he wanted Shouta to sign his cast while it was still being plastered onto his leg. It seemed a bit pointless to Shouta, knowing full well that the cast wasn’t going to be on for the full month the doctor had recommended, but if doodling on the plaster made Hizashi happy, well, then who could blame Shouta for running into a store on the drive home to buy some markers?

When they pull into the parking lot of his apartment complex, he helps Hizashi stand up and makes sure he has a firm grasp on the crutches before shutting the door and trying not to hover too much as he slows his gate to match Hizashi’s speed. They make it to the front door without incident, though Hizashi’s playful smile he’d been wearing all day at the hospital has dropped off completely by the time they’re indoors. A few drops of sweat are gathering along his hairline and Shouta is glad he offered this morning to pull the long strands into a ponytail for the other man.

Hizashi leans heavily against the entranceway wall while Shouta helps slip off his one shoe. When he straightens up, Hizashi’s eyes are closed and he looks exhausted, eyebrows pulled together, breathing through his mouth in short little gasps, probably trying not to aggravate his ribs too much.

“It’ll take a little bit for the pills to kick in,” Shouta says, pulling his sleeve over his hand and using it to dab at Hizashi’s temple. The blond opens one eye and nods slightly.

They’d both been heroes long enough to know plenty well that painkillers never worked as fast as you wanted them to.

“Come on, let’s get you on the couch,” he says, taking the crutches from Hizashi and propping them on the wall, pulling the other man into his side like he’d done the night before, and half-carrying him over to the living room. This seemed to be a bit easier on Hizashi’s chest.

Shouta lays Hizashi down across the cushions and wishes suddenly that he’d listened all those times the self-proclaimed “design expert” had said he needed some throw pillows.

“I’m going to grab some pillows from the bedroom, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay…”

Shouta gives him a small smile and Hizashi’s eyes are barely open at this point, but they curve up into little crescents to match the tired stretch of his lips anyway. Hizashi’s hand moves into a thumbs up before his fingers flatten out across his stomach like the movement had taken the last bit of energy he’d had to spare.

Apparently that high he’d been riding from last night had run out.

That’s fine, Shouta thinks. He would be perfectly happy just letting Hizashi rest.

By the time he comes back out in the living room with his arms stuffed full of pillows, the heating pad, and the fluffy blanket Hizashi had bought him for Christmas last year, the other man is already passed out. His jaw is slack, a small damp spot forming on his shirt where his chin is tucked awkwardly against his shoulder. Shouta snorts and sets everything down on the floor as quietly as possible, and then channels all those years of stealth training to carefully slip a pillow beneath Hizashi’s head without disturbing him. The sleepy man lets out a little hum as he settles into the plush material and Shouta smiles, brushing some of his long hair away from his face.

He’s not really willing to risk sliding the heating pad under Hizashi’s back, knowing that’s bound to rouse him, so he flips the switch on the cord and lays it over his upper chest instead, along where he remembers the click of the doctor’s pen as it tapped against the x-ray display. He pulls the blanket overtop and stands back up, happy with his work.

Shouta eyes the space by Hizashi’s feet. He really wanted to try and squish in next to him, snuggling into all that warmth, far better than his sleeping bag, but this would have to do. If the way neither of them had said anything about Hizashi going back to his place was any indication, he’d have plenty of time to get close to the other man later tonight.

For now, well…

For now, placing Hizashi’s legs overtop his own, and leaning his head along the back of the couch was suitable.

It doesn’t take long for Shouta to drift off too.

---

“Shouta...Shouta...Shhhouuuutaaaa…”

He blinks awake to the sound of someone calling his name, the dim overhead lights in his popcorn ceiling slowly coming into focus as the words get clearer.

“Mmm?” Shouta grumbles.

He feels a light tapping against his lower stomach and looks down to see Hizashi’s good leg poking at him where they’re both still settled on his lap. He turns to see the blond pouting, hair mussed from sleep, with strands of it pulled out of his ponytail, and eyes a little squinty, as if he too just woke up, despite his pleading tone that says he’d been waiting for quite some time.

“What?”

“I’m hungry,” Hizashi whines. “And my everything hurts.”

Shouta looks at the small digital clock on his bookshelf. They’d napped for a number of hours, and he’d passed out before he’d had the chance to set a reminder to give the injured man his next dose of the painkillers the doctor prescribed.

“Sorry,” Shouta says, running a hand through his hair as guilt seeps in. “I should have woken you up to give you more meds.”

“What happened to ‘sleep is the perfect medicine’?”

Shouta quirks his eyebrow, says, “Does it feel perfect right now?”

“No, it feels like I need to brush my teeth and I’m starving, Shouta.”

“Doubtful,” he retorts, but leans over Hizashi’s legs, careful of the cast, to grab his cell phone from where he’d left it on the coffee table. “Takeout?”

“Delivery.”

Shouta snorts, saying, “Are you paying that fee?”

“I can’t be left alone, Sho, I’m injured. What if I had to go to the bathroom and fell on the way and you were out getting food while I was suffocating on the carpet, unable to push myself up?”

“You could turn your head.”

“I broke my neck on the way down.”

“I’m not sure you deserve to live if that’s how you die.”

“Shouta!”

They both burst into a fit of laughter, Hizashi holding his sides and groaning as he tries to stop his giggles from affecting his broken ribs. Shouta wants to stop laughing, stop egging him on, but trying to stifle himself just makes tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He tries to turn his face away and cover his mouth as Hizashi yells, “stop! S-stop! Shouta! Pfff Sh-Shouta” through his laughter.

By the time they’ve both calmed down, their faces are flushed pink and Shouta’s smile is nearly as big as Hizashi’s.

“Okay, delivery.”

They make it about halfway through dinner before Hizashi’s painkillers kick in and he quietly tilts over from where Shouta had positioned him to sit up to eat, and rests his head on Shouta’s shoulder. Hizashi looks up at him, big green eyes still shining under droopy lids, and blinks slowly, each one seeming to take just a little more energy than the last.

“Ready for bed?” Shouta asks.

“I could stay up longer…”

“I’ll lay down with you,” Shouta says, and he’s surprised how easy this all is, how seamlessly their friendship is transitioning into something more, as if this was the way it was always supposed to be. As he slips his arm around Hizashi to rub soothing at his lower back, further lulling the other man into slumber, he still can’t believe it.

“I’ll read or something...or knowing me...I’ll probably just fall asleep too,” he admits, shrugging.

Hizashi smiles against his shirt and nods. His hand moves up off the couch to fall onto Shouta’s thigh. Two little pats, and then, Hizashi says, “Sounds perfect to me.”

---

Hizashi does a remarkable job keeping his exuberant voice hero personality dialed up to 10 while also sporting a full cast, crutches, and several bandages on his face. He shoots every single staring student a staggering smile, and impressively manages to keep his pain to nothing more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth and a little extra grip around his crutches. Shouta stays beside him, giving each kid a glare after Hizashi’s grin to encourage them to move along faster.

He didn’t like the way Hizashi’s right shoulder was starting to shake beneath all that leather.

They finish off a conversation with a 3rd year boy who somehow doesn’t get the hint even with Shouta’s harsh stare, just a few feet away from Recovery Girl’s office, and Shouta has never been so relieved to slide open those doors and get that instant waft of sterile cleaning chemicals.

Hizashi limps in behind him and he closes the door, the blond letting out a heavy sigh as he makes his way to the closest bed and gingerly lowers himself down.

“I was expecting you’d be here a little earlier than this,” Recovery Girl says, twisting around in her chair before hopping down and grabbing her cane. She makes her way slowly over to them, giving Shouta a sweeping full body glance he doesn’t deserve on her way by. He hadn’t done anything reckless lately, but he can’t blame her, he was by often enough that it was likely a habbit at this point.

She stops in front of Hizashi and clicks her tongue, lightly tapping his cast with her cane.

“So what’s first, then, hmm?” she asks. “I looked at the x-rays your doctor sent over. I think we should start with the ribs, but if the leg is giving you more discom-”

“My face, please,” Hizashi interrupts.

Shouta has to do a double take.

He and Recovery Girl say, “What?” simultaneously.

“I want you to heal my face first, if that’s alright with you?” he asks again, taking off his glasses.

Recovery Girl raises an eyebrow and Shouta frowns.

“Hizashi, a few stitches aren’t a big deal. You should have her heal your ribs, you can’t make it down the hall without breaking into a sweat,” Shouta says.

Hizashi just smiles at him, soft and tired. His eyes are half-lidded in a way that makes Shouta’s chest tighten.

This was dangerous.

They’d only been romantically involved for maybe 72 hours and he was willing to give Hizashi whatever he wanted.

Shit, gotta remember not to spoil him.

Recovery Girl sighs and reaches out for Hizashi’s collar, tugging him down a little rougher than necessary, probably just to get the wince she knew would be there from his jostled chest to prove her point. He leans down and she pushes up on her tippy-toes, kissing his forehead, and Shouta watches the purple bruises around Hizashi’s lip and nose and eye all start to fade away.

It was a stupid request, but she’d done it anyway, snipping off his stitches and wiping away the adhesive from the bandage on his nose. When Hizashi swayed a little too much in response to the quirk-enhanced healing, she told him to come back in two days to start chipping away at the rest of his injuries.

“No more vanity-healing, you hear?” she’d said, giving his cheek a pat with her hand.

They’d thanked her, Shouta promising to drag Hizashi back, and headed back down the long hall. Hizashi was almost entirely silent, his movements a bit slower, but a little smile stayed fastened to his lips the whole walk through U.A, and into the parking lot.

It’s not until Hizashi is situated in his seat and Shouta shuts the car door that the voice hero comes to life, immediately turning toward him, cheeks dimpled by his large grin, smile lines forming around the corner of his eyes. Shouta narrows his own eyes, looking at him suspiciously, and reaches out with the intention of gently pushing the other man back against his seat, concerned that the way Hizashi is turned toward him would be uncomfortable for an uninjured person, let alone someone still nursing broken ribs. He doesn’t make it that far, though, as Hizashi’s hand wraps around his wrist to stop him, guiding Shouta’s arm down to the middle console between them. He maneuvers their hands and Shouta is a little surprise how easy it is for his fingers to find the gaps between Hizashi’s. It’s been maybe 5 seconds since they’d entered the car and now they’re holding hands.

It’s hard to believe it has only been a few days since Hizashi came stumbling into his apartment and knocked over every expectation, and every semblance of reality Shouta had built up in his life.

Wasn’t it that same morning that he’d stared a little too long at Hizashi’s lips when the other man said his daily “see you later, Eraser” as they waved goodbye after classes had ended for the day? Wasn’t it that same drive home, in this same car, when he’d paused at a stop sign for a bit too long, thinking about calling Hizashi and seeing if he wanted to hang out that weekend, wanted to sit on his couch with a good foot of buffer space between them that Hizashi would inevitably invade, just to drive Shouta and his crush a little bit more insane?

Hadn’t he written this off the same day that Hizashi made it all happen?

Now he’s holding hands with his best friend and somehow feeling like he’s the breathless one.

“Hiz-”

“Kiss me.”

Shouta’s eyes widen, his mouth still open, and Hizashi’s name fallen off his lips and somewhere into the space between them.

“W-what?”

“You promised,” Hizashi says, and his fingers press into the back of Shouta’s hand as his grip tightens. “You said when my lip was healed, you’d kiss me.”

Hizashi’s other hand moves up to his mouth, where he peels off the butterfly bandages that had been holding his split lip together, the ones they’d traded the cartoon cat one for when they’d gone to the doctor. Shouta watches as his skin is revealed again, a light pink hue of a freshly healed wound, but no more blood, no scratches, no scabs.

Hizashi makes a kissy face, his mustache twitching above his upper lip.

Shouta laughs.

Hizashi’s perfect, freshly healed lips start forming a pout, but Shouta’s not about to have that, not now, not when everything is new and warm and his heart feels full in a way it never has before. So he let’s go of Hizashi’s hand and he moves it to the blond’s face instead, cupping his cheek, letting his thumb run over that soft, smooth skin, and watching Hizashi’s green eyes glisten in the sunlight streaming in over Shouta’s shoulder through the car’s window. He leans in and his lips find Hizashi’s, fitting together so seamlessly, like this was where they were always meant to be. He closes his eyes and moves his hand around to the back of Hizashi’s head, pulling him in closer, tilting him back a bit as he deepens the kiss.

Hizashi lets out a happy hum and Shouta feels one of the other man’s hands grip the hem of his shirt, as the other lands on his thigh.

It must only be a few seconds, but Shouta swears the whole day passes in that moment.

When they pull back, Hizashi’s grin has returned in full force, and if Shouta was a man of more words he might tell him that he looks perfect, stunning even, because both of those things are true.

Instead, he smiles back at Hizashi, stroking his thumb along the blond’s cheek one more time, and says, “Promise kept.”