#because THAT is exactly what i’m tired of

[grandline-fics]

I'm so in love with your writing, I'd love to see the "one bed trope" from you! Maybe a little suggestive, as far as you're comfortable, of course.

DESCRIPTION: There was only one bed

WARNINGS:  nothing too suggestive, more on the fluff side

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks

WORDS: 2,065

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I didn't know which characters you wanted so used the most popular form the recent poll. I had intended to do Ace as well but only had the energy to get something done for Shanks and Mihawk. I love this trope so much that i'll probably do more parts in the future. I hope you're happy with what I came up with and I'm sorry I didn't make it suggestive.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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MIHAWK

You were going to kill Crocodile. Not only did he order you to the tiniest island you’d seen in a long while, were the only thing in abundance seemed to be gloomy expressions but he also insisted you go to ‘keep an eye on' Mihawk. Since you considered Crocodile your main superior-a perspective you hadn't dropped since your Baroque Works days- you couldn't exactly refuse the assignment but it just made zero sense for you to be here. For starters Mihawk worked alone and efficiently enough that he didn’t require anyone to look out for him. Plus ‘observation’ wasn’t your usual role in Cross Guild. Normally Crocodile handed you a bounty list, told you to pick one and go get them. 

This was just one big headache and to make matters worse after scouring the entire island a call came through from Crocodile saying the bounty had already been completed and just handed in. Now you really were going to kill your boss, but from the look on Mihawk’s face it seemed you would have to get in line. From the receiver, Crocodile’s laugh caught both of your attentions.  “Look these things happen so stop pouting. Just make your way back to Cross Guild.”

Mihawk didn’t offer a response and ended the call, walking out of the alley you’d both stopped at to take the call. Silently you fell into step beside the former Warlord, walking the streets of the island for what felt like the hundredth time already. You let out a sigh of relief to see the inn come into view, now the only thing on your mind was trying to get a good night’s sleep and calm your annoyance at the whole situation. You couldn’t even muster a polite smile to the receptionist at the desk. “Two please.”

“Oh.” The receptionist glanced between you and Mihawk, her expression trained with years of experience to appear calm but you both saw the flicker of nervousness in her eyes for the smallest moment. “I’m sorry but we’re booked almost to capacity.”

“You’re joking.” You muttered. Why was everything going against you today? “You have nothing left?”

“W-well we’re a small island. Rooms go fast but we do have one room available.” You and Mihawk exchanged a look, both composed. Then the receptionist had to uselessly add. “Only one bed…” With a sigh you held out your hand for the key, knowing there wasn't much choice. Muttering thanks you glanced at the number of the keyring and headed for your room for the night. Stepping inside you found it lived up to your very low expectations but at least it was clean. Silently you eyed the bed you would have to share and looked to your stoic roommate. “So which side of the bed do you want?” 

As expected Mihawk was mature and respectable about the whole thing. Calm as ever he chose his side-the one closest to the door- and settled in for the night. Mihawk’s ability to fall over to sleep at ease was enviable because in the dark you could hear his deep, even breaths as he slept facing away from you. As tired as you were and as comfortable as you normally did feel in Mihawk’s presence you just couldn’t fall asleep. While the bed you lay in wasn't the worst you’d ever had to sleep in, it wasn’t the comfiest and living at Cross Guild had practically spoiled you. You’d gotten so used to stretching out, something you couldn’t exactly do at this moment. 

Deciding to just make do with your half of the bed and not disturb Mihawk, you rolled onto your side with the intention of getting comfortable. The only problem was you’d vastly overestimated the room you had to move and could only gasp as you felt the bed disappear from under you. In a split second as you braced to hit the ground, you were instead caught by a pair of hands. With ease you were pulled back onto the bed and you tensed to feel your back make contact with the warmth of Mhawk’s chest. “Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine, just sleep.” He told you while pulling one arm back to tuck his hand under his pillow. You tried not to react to how sleep brought Mihawk’s voice to a lower register that made it so much more attractive to you. You only nodded at his instruction and shifted slightly, already so much more comfortable than you had been all night. The only thing now was you noticed Mihawk still had one arm loosely draped over your body, not quite holding you but still enveloping you in his touch. “This is only to keep you from falling out of the bed again.”

“I didn’t say anything…” You mused, lips curving into a teasing smile that Mihawk could practically hear in the dark. “If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask.”

“Don’t make me kick you out of this bed.” Mihawk warned in your ear, despite the threat you smirked to feel his arm over you tighten just a little. 

“Relax, your secret is safe with me.” Ordinarily you would have teased him a little more but between the tiredness finally winning over you and the warmth of his body against yours being so comforting. For a moment Mihawk wondered if you were genuinely comfortable against him, ready to release you at the first sign of unease. Yet you surprised him when you yawned and lazily placed your hand over his arm and smile in satisfaction as your eyes slid closed, your breathing evening out as you fell asleep.

Mihawk had been taking his time to slowly get to know you and let you in little by little, but now watching you roll onto your other side and curl up against his chest he began to reconsider his actions. Perhaps a few more missions away from Cross Guild’s base wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

SHANKS

This type of situation should not be happening in this day and age. Not with your crew and Captain having the reputation and fame they had. Drawing names to see who was sharing rooms of all things reminded you of when the crew was only just forming and the coin to pay for individual rooms was a luxury. Some of the others on the crew shared your slight annoyance but you all knew that there wasn’t much you could do about it. The ship needed repairs after getting damaged in a ferocious storm with the sleeping quarters affected and unusable for now. You were all pirates after all and you supposed you needed to be reminded of that. 

Still though you were secretly hoping you were one of the lucky ones who got their own room. You mentally cursed when Ben pulled out a slip of paper and read your name out. Resigned to your fate you grabbed your drink and took a plentiful mouthful as the vice-captain grabbed another piece of paper to announce your roommate for the night. As you wiped the stray remnant of the liquid from your lip you spotted the man pause and fight a laugh, disguising his amusement by rubbing the lower half of his face. “Captain Shanks.” 

Your back went rigid and you ignored the burning stares of the rest of the crew as you instead turned your attention to the man in question. Even he seemed momentarily thrown by the announcement but he recovered swiftly as expected of the laidback man. His dark eyes met your gaze and he offered you a cheeky smile and a wink.

That night when all the drinking had been done you and Shanks stepped into your shared room. Without needed to consult on anything you both instinctively went to your preferred side of the bed to sleep on. You sat down and worked on kicking off your shoes and shrugging out of your coat to at least be a little comfier. You looked over your shoulder when Shanks lightly cleared his throat as he pulled back the cover to settle down on the mattress. “Problem Cap?”

“Not really.” Shanks mused with a sly smile. “I usually sleep naked is all.”

“Poor baby, I’m sure you can be brave and at least keep your trousers on for one night.” You teased, used to your Captain’s antics and knowing he was only making jokes to ease the slight tension at having to share like this. With a tired groan you settled down on your side of the bed as Shanks flicked off the light, bringing the room fully into darkness. “If not the barmaid should still be about to help you.”

“And downgrade my sleeping partner? I’d rather lose another limb.” Shanks told you dramatically, offended you’d suggest such a thing. You let out a huff of amusement and rolled your eyes as you stared tiredly at the ceiling, letting yourself grow more comfortable against the mattress. “I lost count how many of the crew wanted me to swap with them…”

“Uh-huh.“ You mused with a lazy smile before breaking out into a long yawn, sleep coming over you quickly now. “Well aren’t you lucky? Now go to sleep, ‘kay?”

“Can I at least get a good night kiss?” Shanks teased lightly, playfully tapping your nose and grinning in the darkened room to see your tired face scrunch up slightly. He’d said it as a joke, something for you to barely register in your mind as you drifted off to sleep. What he hadn’t expected though was you to roll onto your side and push yourself up with a low hum of sleepiness, not even bothering to open your eyes fully. 

He watched silently, completely overcome with curiosity as your hand reached out to skim your fingers against his face, searching for him in the dark. Your hand settled against his cheek and slowly you drew closer. With half-lidded eyes Shanks couldn’t take his gaze off of your slightly parted lips. 

“Shanks…” your voice was barely a breathy whisper but it was clear as a bell to Shanks, his attention raptly on you and only you. Quickly you pulled back just enough and opened your eyes to smirk slightly to see Shanks had leant in slightly to chase your lips he had been quietly eager to taste.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Shanks protested with a small pout, his hand dropping to the small of your back, fingers flexing slightly a gesture, to request you close the distance. He wasn’t forcing you, you had all the power here. You tilted your head and smiled at the sudden pet-name. You couldn’t deny the temptation to give in to your own idle curiosities about your handsome Captain. Given how you were sharing a bed and he'd requested a kiss you would have been foolish to throw away the opportunity you had. Still you had to at least get a little bit more fun out of it by keeping Shanks in momentary suspense. 

Finally you relented and kissed Shanks, your lips moving languidly against his; it being no surprise to you the he was already returning the action with no hesitancy. There was no fight for dominance in the kiss you shared but you could feel the power and command of Shanks’ presence over you but he left the pace, duration, and intensity entirely up to you. As much as you wanted to take it further, to push your curiosity and attraction towards the man against you for your own satisfaction you had to pull away reluctantly, knowing you wouldn’t have been able to enjoy what would follow fully with how tired you were. “Satisfied with your good night kiss, Captain?”

“You have no idea.” Shanks grinned pressing a quick kiss against your head as you settled down on the bed again. “I can now sleep peacefully and dream the sweetest dreams.”

“Good.” You grinned sleepily, opening your eyes just enough to fix him a playful smile. “I expect a good morning kiss in return by the way.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, love.” Shanks grinned at you, already counting down the hours until he got to feel his lips against yours again but for now he would enjoy the time he had to sleep beside you.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa@kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyFive

prompt from @justsearchingformystory and @starthecozy

Eddie’s speaking and reading and writing and all that stuff has come on massively, but he still doesn’t quiet grasp all the nuances of...well, humans. So, sometimes he does things that are just...kind of slightly to the left of normal.

He hasn’t yet grasped that he is really, really not at all subtle. Steve hopes he never works it out, prays quietly that Eddie remains brash and obvious for the rest of their lives. Eddie has a catalogue from somewhere, one of those cheap badly printed things you pick up at the mall. They’re everywhere this time of year, trying to pressure people into buying yet more gifts. Like stuff is the only thing that could possibly bring happiness at Christmas.

He sits close enough to Steve that they’re squished together, flipping the pages. He’s pretending to look but the way he’s holding the book, it’s more like he’s showing it to Steve.

“I like this sweater,” Eddie says, not at all nonchalantly, and then he stares at Steve. Waiting. Holding the page open to show a man and a woman in matching sweaters.

“Yeah, not really your style any more babe, but I’m sure you’d look great in it.” It does, in fact, look exactly like the kind of thing Steve would wear.

Eddie blinks, and Steve knows his plan just hit an unexpected roadblock. Steve can almost hear Eddie thinking. Then he frowns, and turns the page.

“A remote control car,” Eddie reads carefully, “comes with batteries,” he’s showing Steve again.

“I guess you’ve never had anything like that,” Steve grins sweetly, already sensing Eddie’s growing frustration. Whatever the opposite of subtle is, Eddie is it, “I could get you one for Christmas, if you like,” Steve offers, trying to play this as normal as possible, doing his absolute best to school his expression. He’s not sure he’s succeeding, but Eddie doesn’t seem to realize, so near enough.

Eddie turns a couple of pages, “snow chains?” He’s frowning at the book now, “what are snow chains?”

“For the car tires, so you don’t slip around in the snow, I’ve already got some,” Steve smiles sweetly. Eddie’s frown deepens, and he abandons his tactic, and the magazine, heading off in a huff.

Steve wakes up slowly. It’s not urgent, part of his brain telling him that it’s just Eddie that woke him. He can feel Eddie holding his hand, doing something, and Steve shifts sleepily under the covers, blinking his eyes open just as Eddie shuffles something into his pocket. Steve frowns, Eddie’s already dressed. “What you doing baby?”

Steve rubs his thumb between his fingers, rubbing away the ghost of Eddie’s touch, “nothing!” Eddie replies, way too fucking fast, and way way too enthusiastically.

“Uh hu, that isn’t suspicious at all. You’re dressed.”

“Yeah,” Eddie leans over and kisses Steve on the forehead, and when Steve presents his cheek, Eddie kisses him there too, “Chris will be here soon, we’re going Christmas shopping.”

Steve yawns, “can I tag along? I could do with getting some gifts.”

Eddie immediately looks shifty, “uhm, no.”

“I know you’re getting stuff for me baby, you keeping it secret?”

“Maybe.”

“How about I call Robs, I can do some shopping with Rob, you can do some shopping with Chrissy, and then we can swap, I need to get Rob something.”

“And I want to get Chrissy something,” Eddie smiles, seeing Steve’s plan, “you gotta get dressed.” Eddie drags the covers unceremoniously off Steve, making him groan at the loss of comfort, “I’ll call Rob, going soon.”

“Okay okay. I’m up, I’m up,” Steve groans, dragging himself out of bed as Eddie thuds down the stairs.

“Can we get lunch?” Eddie asks, leaning forward as far as he can given his seat belt. Chrissy is driving, so the girls are sitting in the front, “the food court,” he says, with the utmost reverence. Steve remembers very fondly the first time Eddie went to the mall, wandering around with Steve, mouth open, not sure where to look because there’s just so much stuff. Technically it wasn’t the first time Eddie had been to a mall, since Steve carried him through half of Starcourt when they made their escape, but Steve’s pretty sure Eddie doesn’t remember much of that. To be honest, neither does Steve since he was high on Russian drugs and beat all to hell.

The nearest mall is now near the city, so that’s where Steve took Eddie. And then he saw the food court for the first time. Eddie had made a noise Steve’s sure he’s only ever heard when they’ve been having sex.

Chrissy laughs, “of course we can.”

“Okay,” Steve checks his watch, “we meet here at twelve thirty, get lunch, then trade off, yeah?”

Robin salutes him, “aye aye captain.”

They go opposite ways, Robin immediately quizzing Steve, “so what is Eddie getting you?”

“I...actually have no idea. He’s brought his savings with him through, so,” Steve shrugs, “he’s got to buy for his secret Santa too.”

“Who did you get?”

“I am not telling you-”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours-”

Steve shoves her, laughing.

They don’t mean to find Eddie and Chrissy, but as they walk into the store and spot them, Steve and Robin both instinctively duck down out of the way, hiding.

“Oof, I hope that isn’t for either of us,” the sweater Eddie is holding up was an almost rabid confusion of pink and yellow.

They can hear Chrissy and Eddie laughing, “oh no,” Robin sighs, “they’re going to weaponize the sweater.”

“We should go, there’s no way I’ll be able to act surprised.”

Robin breathes deeply through her nose, trying to see where they’ve gone now, “okay, I think we’re safe, pretty sure he left the sweater.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t be back for it,” Steve grumbles.

“They’re late,” Steve checks his watch. He isn’t worried; Eddie’s with Chrissy, and it’s only the mall.

“Not that late...there they are,” Robin goes on tip toe, waving to get their attention.

“Where’s all you stuff?” Steve can’t help but notice they’re empty handed.

“In the car, hidden from prying eyes,” Chrissy tells them with a knowing look.

“It’s a secret, Stevie,” Eddie informs them solemnly, “Chrissy is keeping my gifts at hers. We can wrap them in the dark.”

Chrissy snorts a laugh, “no honey, we need to keep Steve in the dark.”

“Right right,” Eddie frowns vaguely, but clearly has other priorities, “lunch food?”

Steve collapses onto the couch, simply walking around all the stores can be exhausting, maybe because of all the thinking and planning involved. Steve managed to get a couple of records and band shirts for Eddie; things he knows he will like.

His guitar playing has been coming along too, Eddie picking that up just as fast as everything else, and Steve managed to find a book of Metallica tabs at the record store, plus a red guitar pick necklace that he’s certain will be a winner. The red plastic has the faintest of sparkles to it, and Eddie is such a magpie Steve’s sure he will like it.

“Close your eyes Stevie love!” Eddie hollers through the house.

Steve snorts a laugh, but does as he’s told, not moving a muscle otherwise, still slouched on the couch, “okay! They’re shut!”

He can hear Eddie moving around, rustling things on the coffee table, “okay, open.”

Eddie’s laid out a bunch of...stuff...on the table. Crafty looking stuff. In the middle there are two Christmas stockings, the kind you hang on the mantle. One is red and green candy cane stripe, and the other a dark blue with little glittery starts printed all over. They look extremely cheap, but no less charming for it, “what are we doing baby?”

“We’re going to make hot chocolate, I got fancy marshmallows, and we’re decorating our socks.”

“Stockings.”

“Sure. That.” Eddie has scissors and felt and a little bottle of Elmer’s glue. There are tacky plastic gems with paper backs, and sheets of little foil stickers; angels and snow men and Christmas trees and stuff. “They have to have our names on, so we can cut out letters?” Eddie holds up a little sheet of colored felt material.

“I...you know. I’m pretty sure I see your vision, this looks fun. Lets go and make the hot chocolate.”

The smile Eddie gives him is brighter than the godamn sun, and they end up making out in the kitchen, waiting for the milk to heat.

Part ThirtySeven

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 7 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

part vii (staying in)

“I think everyone else is asleep,” you say, glancing around Toga’s living room. “We can probably turn this off.”

“Still awake,” Spinner says from the armchair, which he stole when Magne left after the end of the third movie. “I’m watching.”

“Yeah? What just happened?” Tomura asks.

“He’s giving everybody weird haircuts,” Spinner says. Close enough. “I have to pay attention. Aiba likes this guy’s movies. She says he’s –”

He yawns. “Nostalgic. I’m watching.”

“Okay, but nobody else is,” you say. “Shouldn’t we call it?”

Tomura glances around the room. Magne left after making everybody sit through Love Actually and Twice left midway through Die Hard because he gets scared of sleeping in other people’s houses, which leaves Toga, the girl she invited, Spinner, Dabi, Tomura, and you. Of everybody who’s left, only you and Tomura can be said to actually be awake. Spinner’s yawning on every other breath, Toga and the girl are cuddled up in the same beanbag, snoring, and Dabi drank too much eggnog and was out like a light before they’d even finished Krampus. You and Tomura are definitely outnumbered.

It’s not like Tomura isn’t tired. Tomura’s really tired. He feels the heaviness in his limbs and the yawns tightening his jaw, but his mind is wide awake, and he’s going to pay attention to every second of the movie you picked. Since he gave up forcing everybody to watch Gremlins in favor of your movie, he wants to make sure it was worth it, and he wants to know exactly what happened in case you want to talk about it afterwards. He’s hoping you do. He’s not ready for you to leave yet.

Tomura wasn’t sure about seeing you outside of work, but then he decided it would help him figure things out. Seeing you around the office is one thing. For him to know if he likes you, he has to know what you’re like outside of work, so he can decide if he’d want to hang out with you then, too. Tomura’s not good at this whole liking-people bullshit. If there was some kind of life skills class where everybody learned it, he probably missed it while he was being homeschooled or in juvie. By the time he got out, halfway through high school, everybody already knew what they were doing. Tomura just has to fumble through somehow.

You make it feel less like fumbling. It makes more sense to Tomura when you’re sitting next to him, roasting Love Actually just like he is, actually paying attention during the horror movie he picked instead of drinking straight through it. You pay attention to things, notice them, just like Tomura’s Secret Santa notices stuff about him. Tomura feels less weird about being noticed than he used to.

But he doesn’t want to just sit here noticing and getting noticed all night long. He wants to talk to you about something that’s not work or whatever dumb Christmas thing is happening, and he can only manage half. “Is this really the first movie you thought of when I said you could pick one?”

“I was trying to pick one you all would like,” you say. Something about that reminds Tomura of the way you wrote your wish list. “I do like this one, though. Some people think it’s stretching it to call it a Christmas movie, but it’s all leading up to Christmas, so I count it.”

Movies that can only be called Christmas movies if Tomura’s stretching it are his favorite kind of Christmas movies. “Why do you like it when it’s going to be sad?”

You glance sideways at him. “What makes you think it’s going to be sad?”

“The grandma telling the story is the main girl when she’s old, and she’s telling it past tense,” Tomura says. You nod. “Besides, he’s – like that. No way is that working out well for anybody.”

“But it could,” you counter. “You might be right about how the story goes, but there’s nothing in the story that says it has to be that way.”

Tomura thought you were awake, but maybe you’re sleepier than he thought. “You mean, other than the whole story so far?”

“I mean –” You trail off. “In some stories, there’s obstacles that can’t be overcome. Like somebody being dead, or something being too wrong to work. And in some stories the obstacles are a choice, kind of. Those are the ones I like.”

Tomura’s played games where choices matter. Somehow he always stumbles into the bad ending, and knowing that there’s a good ending out there that he was too stupid to get makes it even worse. If you like those stories, you’re probably better at making choices than he is. Still – “If the end’s the same, why does it matter?”

“Well –”

“Hey, can you save the philosophy until after the movie?” Spinner yawns. “I’m still trying to watch.”

Tomura gives it five minutes until Spinner passes out, and he’s only off by about thirty seconds or so. Now it’s just the two of you awake, watching the weird movie you picked. Tomura’s trying hard to watch the movie, but just like he keeps getting the song you sang stuck in his head, he keeps getting stuck looking at you.

The movie ends like Tomura thought it would – sadly, but not surprisingly – and he glances at you. “You’re going to say she could have chosen to stay with him,” Tomura says, and you nod. “Why would she do that? When he’s – like that –”

Tomura doesn’t get why he’s being squeamish about calling it like it is. The main character’s ugly. Scary. Nothing anybody wants to touch. “Maybe she likes him how he is,” you say. You’re not looking at the screen anymore. You’re looking at Tomura. “There’s nothing about the story that says she couldn’t have picked him. There’d have been consequences, but there are always consequences. And I guess that’s why it’s sad. Knowing it could have been the other way just as easily.”

You look away from Tomura, and even though he usually hates being looked at, he sort of misses it. “I guess it’s good that everybody fell asleep,” you say. “This doesn’t really seem like a sad-Christmas crowd.”

“Sad Christmas makes more sense than happy Christmas,” Tomura says before he can really think about it. “It never made sense to me, except –”

Making friends. Spending the holidays with them instead of wondering why everybody but him got to celebrate with people they mattered to. And he’ll never admit it to Toga, or anyone, but the Secret Santa thing is kind of fun. He likes leaving stuff for you and seeing how you react. Almost as much as he likes getting things from whoever his Secret Santa is.

“Yeah,” you say, like he’s explained it all out loud. Maybe he’s tired enough that he has and just didn’t realize. “I can see that.”

You’re doing that noticing thing again. Tomura keeps looking at you, trying to notice you back, but the longer the two of you look at each other, the weirder it starts to feel between you. Like there’s something more that needs to happen. Tomura steels himself, braced for whatever you do or to act as soon as he has an idea of what to do.

And then you look away. “It’s late. I should go.”

“You could stay,” Tomura says. “None of us except Toga live here, and we’re all sleeping over.”

You look like you’re thinking about it. Tomura can think of a lot of reasons why you should – it’s late, it’s cold, it’s probably a long way to your apartment, you’d basically have to wake up again by the time you got home – but before he can say any of them, you nod. “Okay. Where should we sleep?”

You end up with your heads at opposite ends of the couch, under the same blanket. Both of you rustle around, knees knocking together as you try to settle in. You fall asleep faster than Tomura does. There’s no way he can imagine you tangling your legs up with his if you were awake, and Tomura’s so focused on trying to live with being this close to someone that the question of whether he likes you is answered definitively offscreen. It’s something he wakes up with. Just like he wakes up still sharing the couch with you.

<- part vi part viii ->

[ikkyfics]

Beyond Words

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Summary: “Tough day?” Remus asked, turning slightly to watch you more closely. You shrugged. “Kind of. Just… a lot of noise. I needed a little peace.” “Well, you came to the right place.”

Warnings: none

Masterlist

The night at Hogwarts was peaceful, except for the distant sound of conversations and laughter coming from the Gryffindor Common Room. After a particularly busy day, all you wanted was a moment of peace, away from the noise and distractions. So, you climbed the stairs toward the Astronomy Tower, where you knew you could find the silence you longed for.

When you opened the heavy door, the first thing you saw was a familiar silhouette sitting on one of the stone benches under the faint light of the stars. Remus Lupin. He was bent over a book, his brown hair falling softly over his forehead as his eyes scanned the pages. You paused for a moment, hesitating.

“If you’re going back to the noise down there, don’t even think about it,” he said without looking up from the book, but there was a playful smile in his voice.

You sighed lightly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to. I know you,” he replied, carefully closing the book and finally lifting his gaze to you. That warm, curious brown stare made your heart race every time. He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed reserved only for you. “Come here.”

Remus slid over to make room on the stone bench for you to sit. Despite your initial reluctance, you walked over to him, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“Tough day?” he asked, turning slightly to watch you more closely.

You shrugged. “Kind of. Just… a lot of noise. I needed a little peace.”

“Well, you came to the right place,” he said softly, pulling something from his robe pocket. He held out his hand and, without saying anything, handed you a small piece of chocolate.

You raised an eyebrow, taking the treat. “You carry chocolate everywhere?”

“Of course,” he answered casually. “You never know when someone might need a little comfort.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, but accepted the chocolate gratefully. The sweet and comforting taste was exactly what you needed. Silence fell over you both again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was the kind of silence that only someone like Remus could make possible—a silence where you could simply exist.

He opened the book again, but his attention clearly wasn’t on the pages. He kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if studying you.

“You’re staring at me,” you commented without taking your eyes off the starry sky.

“It’s because you’re beautiful,” he said without hesitation.

You turned your face toward him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “You never get tired of saying that, do you?”

“To tell the truth? No,” he replied, smiling with that calm way of his that made it impossible to stay mad at him.

You shook your head, trying to hide how fast your heart was beating. He had this way of making even the simplest moments feel special, like they were just for the two of you.

After a while, Remus closed the book again and set it aside. He turned completely toward you, resting his elbow on his knee while propping his chin in his hand.

“Did you know that this is my favorite thing about you?”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“This,” he said, pointing slightly at you. “The way you can turn any place into something peaceful. Even if the day was a mess, even if I’m exhausted… you make everything seem easier.”

“Me?” you asked, incredulous.

“You,” he confirmed, his brown eyes shining with sincerity. “Even the silence with you feels special.”

For a moment, you couldn’t say anything. Not because you didn’t know how to respond, but because it seemed impossible to put into words how much he meant to you. He was everything—a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, a constant in a world full of uncertainties.

“I… I like you too,” you finally said, your voice softer than you intended.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made the world seem lighter. “Well, that’s convenient, considering we’re dating.”

You huffed, trying to keep up the air of indignation, but the heat rising in your face and the corner of your mouth betraying a smile didn’t help at all. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I hear that a lot,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, the playful tone softening his expression.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the kind of silence that felt full of unspoken things, but things that didn’t need to be said. Then, before you could censor yourself, you let slip: “It’s just that you make everything seem so… easy.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Easy? Me?”

“Yes, you,” you repeated, feeling your face heat up even more. “You have this… thing. This way of making everything seem like it’s going to be fine. Even when it shouldn’t. It’s annoying.”

He laughed, that low, cozy laugh that seemed to fill the entire space. “I think that was the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“It was sincere,” you shot back, looking at the sky to avoid his gaze. “And don’t get used to it. I don’t do this all the time.”

Remus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned a little closer until you finally turned to face him again. His brown eyes were shining, a mix of affection and something deeper that made your heart stumble.

“You know I adore you, right?” he said softly, the tone so sincere it almost hurt.

You tried to laugh, but the intensity of his words caught you off guard. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” he said without hesitation. “And I’ll keep saying it until you truly believe it.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips. It was brief, but sweet, the kind of gesture that said more than any words could. When you pulled back, you saw he was smiling again—that smile that was all his, soft and charming.

“Was that an argument?” he asked, the playful tone returning.

“Maybe,” you replied, trying to hide how nervous you were, but the smile on his face told you he knew.

He extended his hand, his fingers gently brushing against yours before holding them. The scars on his skin were rough, but the touch was gentle, almost reverent. You knew he didn’t like drawing attention to the marks, but to you, they were just another part of him—another thing to admire.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” he said, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Remus,” you murmured, feeling your face heat up again.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, intertwining his fingers with yours. “It’s not just the way you look at me, or how you can understand everything without me having to say anything. It’s how you pay attention to everything, like now. I see the way you look at me, and that… means more than you think.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. “I… I just… really like you. A lot.”

He tilted his head, curious. “How much?”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t escape. “Enough to think you deserve more than just this.”

Before he could respond, you moved closer again, holding his face in your hands. You ran your thumbs gently over the scars on his cheeks, looking at him with all the intensity you usually hid. “I really do adore you, Remus Lupin. Even the little, silly details.”

The surprise in his eyes lasted only a moment before it melted into something even softer. He held your hands, lightly kissing the palm of one of them. “Then we’re even.”

You laughed, but before you could say anything, he leaned in, kissing you with a sweetness that seemed to take all the air from your lungs. It wasn’t rushed or intense, but filled with a tenderness that said everything he felt.

When you pulled apart, he was still close, his forehead resting against yours. “You know there’s no turning back now, right? You’re stuck with me.”

“Am I?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but you couldn’t stop the smile that escaped.

“Completely,” he replied, his smile matching yours.

And as you stayed there, tangled up in each other under the starlight, the world felt quieter, simpler—like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

[ghostgirl-22]

omg! omg! omg! do you have ideas on older jealous art? like what if he saw patrick on the date with helen at the hotel instead? or maybe saw patrick on a date with another man (grosu? 👀) and got really upset but didn’t understand why!

Oh yes, oh yes….<3

I think Art goes in the sauna, yes that sauna. But it’s before they ever meet up the night before they play the final.

CW: NSFWish, 18+

Summary: in which Art has a Karen moment because how dare you try and take his man—that he really doesn’t want (he promises). And no he doesn’t know what he’s weirdly sexually confused about. But it’s not that.

-/-/-/-

Art’s winning again. He’s mostly playing kids who are just so happy to be there or sad older guys who are so jaded and defeated about the idea of playing him that they’ve beaten themselves before Art even has to do anything. But still he is winning and it does feel good.

He’s trying to put the idea of Patrick out of his mind. Tashi tells him every single day, “He’s never going to make it to the final. He’s gonna choke. That’s his thing.” But Art notices every round he wins Patrick wins too.

His body is sore and he always feels better in the heat but being who he is in the tennis world he usually waits till really late at night to relax in the sauna. He’s sure no one else is going to be there so he’ll get a moment of peace and quiet without any of the younger players gawking over him or asking him career questions. But as soon as he pushes open the door he realizes he’s not alone at all. Patrick’s sitting on the bench and he’s not alone. He’s got some guy kneeling between his legs. The guy quickly gets to his feet when he hears the door and Art recognizes him vaguely from the draw. Victor Grasi or Grossi. Something.

The guy wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and Patrick—very slowly— pulls the towel over himself, offering Art a smirk.

Art can feel his skin heating up. He wants to turn and run but he can’t move. His stomach is suddenly swooping around like he’s riding a rollercoaster. He didn’t know Patrick did stuff like that… with boys.

“What’s up Donaldson?” Patrick says brightly, like Art didn’t just catch him with some stupid pretty boy between his legs. “I’ve been meaning to come see you.”

Art glares at him still struggling to form words. He hasn’t seen Patrick this close in so many, many years. He still smiles with his eyes but they crinkle now with age and around the edges of that smile he looks like he might be tired(sad?). And not just from lack of sleep. His hair’s shorter, skin darker the way it always was in the summertime. It makes all his freckles that much more visible. Art hates to admit the facial hair looks kinda good on him.

His body looks good too… Art’s eyes drift downward over where the towel is covering his very hard dick.

”I am so sorry Mr. Donaldson I’m a big fan. I think you are so talented. Not many Americans can win on clay,” Whatever his name is saying with a thick accent Art can’t place. It pulls Art out of whatever daze he was in. God was he just staring? Why was he fucking staring? He looks at Patrick’s face again and he’s looking at Art, amused. Smug.

Art’s annoyed all over again.

“And your game against Padilla.” The kid is still talking. “That was so good. I rewatched it twice. You’re so—“

“Thanks,” Art interrupts, his tone clipped. He’s not sure why he’s suddenly irritated with his presence. This dumb kid, probably 24 or 25, pink cheeks, perfect body just on his knees for…

“Didn’t he beat you yesterday?” Art asks, meanly, with a smirk.

His pretty little face goes stormy and Art feels a cruel internal joy when he sees it.

He mutters something in another language but Art’s certain it’s a swear word.

“I just—it was a bad day. I’m ranked much higher than him.” The kid tries to recover but he’s clearly embarrassed.

“Sure, exactly. It was just a bad day, Grosu,” Patrick chimes in, smiling as he rubs himself idly. “Lemme make you feel better.”

“You’re no good for me, Zweig.” The kid mutters.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Patrick smirks up at him.

Art’s jaw sets with irritation. Especially when Patrick’s grabbing at the kid’s waist and pulling him closer. Art’s not trying to look but for whatever reason his eyes trail back down. Probably because Patrick is just so insistently hard. And he’s touching it, just casually touching it.

The weirdest part is the way Art can feel his own balls tightening. It makes no fucking sense. He can’t possibly be getting hard. He’s one fucking step away from talking to his doctor about Viagra because he can’t get it up for someone as fucking beautiful as his wife and right now on a random night in the middle of the sauna is when he’s just ready to go. Brilliant. It’s like the universe just enjoys finding new ways to fuck with him.

The kid has forgotten about him, mesmerized by Patrick. Letting Patrick just touch him, all over. Art feels like his blood is boiling hotter than the room. He hurries outside without another word before the way his cock is swelling becomes visible to them. Not that they fucking care.

He’s barely made it into the locker room toilet stall when he’s leaning against the door jerking himself stupid. The whole thing is so fucked because in his head he’s imagining Patrick’s hands all over him. Touching him. Fucking him. Not that stupid pretty boy loser. Fucking loser. Fucking loser. Fucking loser. His mind chants over and over, not sure if it’s about the kid or Patrick or himself. All the while his hand is racing over his dick, so desperate until he’s coming hard, spraying his load all over his hand and the toilet seat. “Oh fuck,” he gasps.

Because what the fuck is he doing? He’s too old for this shit. Mind games and lust and weird teenaged flirting. He needs to go home to his wife and kid. He’s a grown up. He has responsibilities. Patrick’s still a fucking child. Just doing whatever he wants. Just fucking whoever he wants. Like Tashi. It’s been years and it still stings. And now some stupid fucking boy sucking his dick when anyone could just walk in. It’s offensive. Art should probably complain. Tell that loser kids coach or whoever he’s working with that he needs to focus and maybe not fuck around with someone like Patrick Zweig. He cleans up quickly and hurries to go wash his hands.

He spots movement behind him in the mirror and turns to see Patrick walking from the lockers towards the shower. Naked. With only a towel on his head. God how long was he in here? Did he hear Art?

Patrick stops to smirk at him. He’s not hard anymore which means he probably fucked the kid. It’s still so fucking big even when he’s soft. Art swallows. “What do you want?” He manages.

“Nothing. You just look pretty flushed. Are you okay?” He says, grinning (like he knows what Art did). “I thought you went home.” He wraps the extra towel he’s got draped over his shoulder around his waist, covering himself and Art relaxes a bit.

“I am going home,” Art says. “Where’s the dumb kid?”

Patrick laughs, “You know he’s 27, right.”

“Well he’s still a loser,” Art shrugs. He doesn’t care. He hopes he never sees him again. (And that Patrick doesn’t either).

“God, must feel good to walk around with all that power. He got so in his head from your little comment. He wanted to go home. Didn’t even want to finish. It’s like he didn’t even remember how much fun we had last night after drinks.”

Art’s not sure how to take any of that. On one hand he’s mildly satisfied that he sent the kid into a tailspin, but still fucking irritated that he… that he what… that he got to fuck Patrick in the first place? This is so fucked. He can’t want this. He cannot want this.

“Well you’re not dressed yet.” Patrick continues, casually. “You sure you don’t want to join me and clean up in the shower?”

“I uh— uh—“ Art stammers, while he white knuckles the towel on his waist, his heart rate picking up and the distant feeling of arousal that he’d just conquered incredibly stirring again. He wants this. Fuck he wants this. “No I—“

“I’m just teasing,” Patrick shrugs, interrupting before Art can finish. An oddly melancholic expression flitting over his face. And then immediately back to being his usual carefree (careless?) self. If not a little more distant. Formal. “Good night, Donaldson, see you in the final.”

“Good night,” Art says, feeling his stomach sink just a little bit. He wishes he didn’t— but he believes it now with 100 percent certainty that Patrick is right— that they’re both going to end up there.

(Sorry anon that this took so long and also I apologize if this is what you were looking for. It’s been hectic so I didn’t have much time to get to into it— also wanted to leave a little space for canon to canon lol. Art is still so mad that he’s attracted to Patrick he needs to hurt him more 😭)

[starryjkoo]

If Jungkook went on live and asked toxic fans to stop harassing Jimin I already know exactly the kinds of comments we would be seeing in response -

“the company is forcing JK to say that to protect the company fave” *10k JM company fave posts* *random slurs, animal names, and bongo tweets* “look at how the company is shielding Jimin solos again” “notice how none of the other members are telling their solos to leave JK alone, JK is the only member who cares, the rest of the members don’t care about him, #JKleaveBTS #BTSdisband” “JK is only saying that because he has a kind heart, but I don’t have to be kind like JK, I’m going to protect him by going after the leeches who are trying to take advantage of him”

And then you would see a thousand posts from his solos/diets complaining about why JM hasn’t called out his own toxic fans, saying that he’s a terrible person who approves of PJMs harassing JK (and tkkrs and other solos would join in and pile on adding how JM doesn't care about the hate that TH/YG/other members receive from PJMs either). And definitely some PJMs would play into it and gloat about JK hating his fans but JM loving PJMs or something. It would be a whole mess, and for what?

JK asking fans to stop going to his house and to stop sending things didn’t work, JK saying artists are innocent didn’t even stop some ARMYs from talking about nwjn's a certain way (I don’t mean simply disagreeing with him, I mean some ARMYs outright dismissing his words and being condescending towards him about it, some were even resentful and leaving rude messages on his IG).

Pretty sure that solos/tkkrs would find a way to twist it to be even more hateful and unhinged towards JM. I mean tkkrs quite literally came up with a whole conspiracy theory so they could twist and dismiss anything they don’t like in BTS content (company forced fanservice ship, tkk hidden couple) and they include weverse lives in this now. How do you even combat that?

The people who want to believe a certain narrative will just twist whatever they want, dismiss whatever words and actions they don’t like to suit whatever narrative they want to push. Anyone who thinks that JK doesn’t like JM (and vice versa) is already extremely biased and irrational, you can’t really reason with that. JK has already done and said x100000000 things that contradict those narratives and they still just ignore it, and his haters never give him credit for it and expect him to do more. Not to mention people like that do not respect or care about JK in the first place, they just want something from him - to live vicariously through him, possess or own him, use him for whatever fantasy.

I mean sometimes I do want (all of) them to address toxic fans and I wonder why they haven’t, but I can also sort of see how it wouldn’t really change much and tbh I just assume that the seven of them have probably talked about this and have some mutual understanding on how they decide to handle it. And like I said JK asking his fans to leave Jimin alone would just result in another unhinged response from those groups of people and JM would be expected to also immediately make a statement or be painted as a terrible person who doesn’t care about JK getting harassed either.

This discourse is really tired and it’s sad the kind of expectations people place on JK about all of this, not even just to call out antis but never being allowed to tease or joke around, being blamed when antis twist his words, having the burden to prove that he doesn't hate his bandmates for some reason placed on his shoulders (even though he HAS proved that, they just don't listen to him). I expect it from solos, but every now and then I have seen some jikooker's also be weird to him about it and it's just really frustrating. Most people I see have just been celebrating and enjoying his live though!! Sorry for the negativity but I wanted to say something too because I can literally picture EXACTLY the kind of things they would be saying and no doubt it would just be another fandom headache.

[alex-ovechkin]

she's...special - ino takuma x reader

Ino Takuma has a crush on his fellow sorcerer - that's you! He's been working up the courage to ask her out, but it takes a bit of good timing and some encouragement from his mentor to get there.

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

The smell of sweat and cologne filled the hallway leading to the small gym. As Ino Takuma made his way through, he kept his head down, looking at his shoes.

One step at a time, he reminded himself, feeling the all-too-familiar pit in his stomach growing larger as he got closer and closer to the double doors. He can hear you grunting from about 30 feet away and loses his nerve, stopping short in the hallway and freezing for a moment. After all, he couldn’t interrupt your training session, right? She’s a teacher and she’s training a student. He can’t quite make out the other muffled voice, but his guess would be that it’s Nobara’s. 

Oh, he definitely couldn’t go and interrupt now. You were basically Nobara’s mentor. It would have been rude of him to come in and ask you if you wanted to get dinner tonight, even though he’d spent weeks building up the nerve.

“Something wrong, Ino?” he heard from behind him. The authoritative baritone was unmistakably that of Nanami Kento. Ino spun around to face the taller blonde man.

“Oh, yeah, Nanami! All good! Didn’t expect you to be here,” he said with an unconvincing chuckle.

“You’re sweating profusely,” Nanami says, matter-of-factly. “Are you feeling ill?”

Ino reflexively went to take off his beanie. Nanami was right - it was drenched in sweat. “No, I’m feeling fine. Just a little warm, I guess!” He attempted his signature smile, to no avail. It was more of a grimace.

“Is this about Y/N? Did you ask and get rejected? Because if that’s what it is you can’t l-”

“I, um, haven’t asked. She’s busy training, I couldn’t interrupt.”

“Just like you couldn’t interrupt while she was eating alone at a table in the cafeteria? Or when she was reading in the library? Ino, you’re making excuses. It’s…juvenile.”

“Is not!” Ino said, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth in disbelief of his own words. “I-I’m so sorry, Nanami. I don’t know-”

The older man waved his hand dismissively. “Ino, you’re acting like a lovestruck schoolboy. Y/N is a very sweet young lady and I’m sure she will reciprocate your feelings. If not, at least you can take solace in the fact that you said something. But you’re acting very strange and, quite frankly, it’s getting on my nerves. You need to go in there, wait for her to finish her training session if you must, then ask her. Like we talked about.”

“Nanami, there’s no way she’ll say yes. Maybe I am being a little immature, but come on, look at her! How could she not make you a little lovestruck?”

“What is it exactly that you like so much about her, Ino?”

“What is there not to like? I mean, she’s already semi-Grade 1, to start. But I don’t even care about all of that. She’s just so nice to be around. I think I could spend all day, every day with her and not get tired of it. She loves horror movies, just like me and when she listens to a cool new album, she tells everyone about it so that they can enjoy it too. And she’s so generous with her time. Just look at her right now, she’s training Kugisaki off the clock. She’s just…special.”

“Who’s special?” Y/N asked, pushing through the double doors. She was slightly out of breath and pulling her hair into a tight ponytail. 

Ino swung his body back around, turning his back to Nanami, who had the faintest trace of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Hm?” Ino said, attempting to avoid eye contact.

“You said someone was special. Were you talking about Nobara? Or Maki? They are both special kids, for sure,” Y/N said with a soft, tight-lipped smile. 

Y/N made her way towards, then past the two men. She puts her hand on Nanami’s shoulder as she passes as a silent greeting. The blonde man looks at his young protege through narrowed eyes. 

“Um…” Ino began as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, sorry, was that a private conversation?” Y/N asked innocently. “Sorry, Ino, didn’t mean to pry. I’ll leave you fellas to talk.”

“Actually, Y/N, I believe Ino wanted to tell you this story,” blurted Nanami with the same stony stare. 

Y/N turned back around and took a few hesitant steps toward the young man in all black. “Oh?”

“It’s stupid, I won’t bother you with it…”

“Aw, c’mon, if Nanami thinks I want to hear it, it must be good. Did you meet a girl or something?” Y/N asked with a big smile and chuckle.

“Um…didn’t meet her. I’ve known her for a bit.”

She nodded encouragingly. “Well, who is it?”

“Uh…you may…know her.”

“O-oh! Is it one of the students? Because that’d be-”

“Oh, no. God, no! That’d be gross.”

“Oh, thank God,” Y/N sighed, exaggeratedly wiping her forehead with the back of her hand and laughing. “Well, is it, like, Mei Mei or something?”

“It’s just someone I’ve known a while,” Ino blurted. “I want to ask her to hang out. Outside of here.” By now, Nanami had sauntered off, giving Y/N a silent nod to say goodbye, and gave Ino what the ski-mask clad sorcerer could only assume was his mentor’s version of an encouraging nod.

“So do it!” Y/N’s voice was light and airy. “I’m sure she’d love to. You’re great, Ino.”

He hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno…”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short! You’re a grade 2 and you’re only 21!”

“You’re a grade 1.”

“Semi-grade 1, but nevermind that, we’re talking about you! Seriously, you’re really fun. I love shooting the shit with you. I bet she does too.”

“She’s really special, Y/N. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“You’re special too, dummy.” She gave him a light jab in the chest. “Look, I’m gross and sweaty and need to shower, but let me know how it goes!” 

Ino watched her begin to walk away. Without thinking, he called after her, his utterance of her name echoing through the hallway. She turned around and flashed that smile one more time.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna go to dinner later?”

Y/N’s smile turned to a knowing smirk. “I was wondering if you’d have the guts. Pick me up at 8 - and take me somewhere nice!”

As he watched her walk away, Ino took a deep breath. Now, he had to find an outfit that wasn’t just sweats… 

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

thank u sm for reading <3 ! this is my first time writing for jjk and first time publishing in years but ino is worth it

[rainykthebroken]

As promised, an actual response to this amazing comic and the great letter underneath it!

First, for the comic:

I love it! I adore how you interpreted “Sectonia” and especially her eyes. It just radiates with something that goes far beyond mere hatred or anguish. Black abyss except for small dots that pierce through your mortal flesh. It has such an otherworldly vibe that fits that surreal moment nature so perfectly. Also, the way “Taranza” (or the representation of his self-loathing and depression) seems to hatch from the wasp queen like if it was a chrysalid, body all inky and black- *chef kiss*

It captures perfectly in images how it was Taranza's own insecurities and self imposed misery that clouded his vision!

And the way you drew Taranza! I recognize a bit of @nokk0‘s lovely interpretation of his outfit in this comic, and you made our favorite spider so expressive (especially with his upper eyes). He goes from anger to sadness to numbness… and finally joy when he finds Magolor again (I like how Magolor’s calls slowly reach him after the whole experience to snap him out, and how Taranza never lets go of his top hat). Seeing Taranza’s memories of his friends was a special treat.

Impossible to point out a favorite panel, they’re all perfect, but I have a particular fondness for the one where Taranza looks at his reflection. It is exactly what I was trying to describe in the story: he looks at himself, all tired, a bit melancholic and worn out from what happened… but now, it’s really him that looks back: him, and his flaws, and his qualities. Taranza is whole again.

The whole comic was perfect, and I’m honored that my story inspired you to take time and draw all of this. It means a lot to me.

Secondly, for the letter at the end:

Again, I’m genuinely honored that you liked A Wonderful Attraction, and my other Kirby stories. I wanted to say that it is good that you took some creative liberties! That is what I (personally) love the most! Seeing people having their own interpretations of the scenes and the outfits!

Each panel of your comic filled me with such happiness and giddiness! I love your style and the emotions you managed to paint on these little characters’ faces.

It feels also good to see that I apparently succeeded in making secondary characters interesting. I always tried to develop Susie, Marx and Lor because while the ship is the focus, it would fill hollow if they were mere wallpaper on the narrative background. Reading that my fanfic have your favourite characterizations of them gave me a serotonin boost. 

It’s a bit hard to write since English isn’t my native language, so it’s double the work. I write the paragraphs in french, and then I have to brainstorm to find metaphors or specific words that will fit the english language. I always was afraid that it was showing too much in my work.

As for what will happen after A Wonderful Attraction: I will try to write for other fandoms (Metroid, Bug Fables perhaps?) for a bit. I feel like publishing another Magoranza fanfic only weeks after the ending of this one would be a bit too much. I want the finale to sting a little, give weight to the fact that it is the last page of this story… or at least, it will be for a while. I have small ideas for new fanfics taking place with the gay wizards (however they’ll be far much smaller).

Finally, I wanted to say it again: 

THANK YOU!

You, not only by your wonderful art piece and your kind words, really give me strength. I will never be able to thank all of these incredible artists that draw my fanfic enough, nor the ones who comment on it.

Thank you all for making this adventure, which started a year ago now, even more enjoyable!

"LIVE"

A short comic based on "A Wonderful Attraction' by @rainykthebroken

i hope you enjoyed it!!! it gets a little rough around the edges towards the end-- but i hope that can be forgiven LOL. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the original fanfic by the wonderful Rainyk (@rainykthebroken)!!! it's a fantastic work that i couldn't hope to capture with this little comic of mine :) to rainyk: i hope this comic was able to instill in you even a fraction of the joy that i got reading not just AWA, but your other Kirby works as well!! im sorry if i couldn't fully capture it as you envisioned, drawing is hard and i had to take a few creative liberties for a comic (>n< '') !! i wanted to put this short footnote for you because as someone who is not just an artist but a writer, i find that written works are often gone less noticed / less praised, and i wanted to make sure to share mine with you!! while reading AWA, i was deeply captured by your extremely beautiful and descriptive writing style- i could almost picture the scenes you were painting down to details, and your use of metaphors throughout the story had me genuinely close to tears a couple of times LOL. your characterizations of the entire kirby cast show such a deep understanding of the characters, especially within the main 4 (+lor...) that genuinely helped shape how i view them myself. they are by and large my favourite characterizations of them period-- theyre filled with such nuance and interesting development, and most importantly you gave time for all of them to develop with the other characters, instead of just focusing on the ship!! when i first read that your native language wasn't english, i was so shocked!! you honestly could have fooled me LOL. your writing showed such a deep understanding of the language art i found myself mulling over some of my favorite lines for way too long (><''). to end this long note off, i just wanted to say that since AWA is coming to an end- for my own selfish purposes, i honestly hope you'll continue with more Kirby works, or more works in this 'timeline' even, since i fell in love with these characters so deeply i'm almost broken to have to let them go -- BWAHAH. but i also believe you have a great talent that i know you can take very far from reading what i have- so i will be excited for whatever it is you decide to write next, even if that isn't kirby!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ i hope that you enjoyed my little work in tribute of yours!! (and that it isn't too incomprehensible because it got super scribbly LMFAO.)

[prongsfish]

marauders fans spend way too much time complaining about seeing content they don’t like instead of consuming content they do like

[chloesimaginationthings]

The true meaning behind FNAF princess quest

[smewduck]

still you, or just the same reflection? :/ idk man

[macabregoria]

looking at the ib tags and coming away with the thought that wow some people really need to (re)play this game and take time to actually understand what’s happening in it

[whentherewerebicycles]

god I love my little baby so much. he’s just started singing back to me when I sing to him, ie cooing really energetically in (sort of) harmony with me with SO much joy in his expression. if you stop singing he will try to get you to start again by coo-singing to you and then watching you intently to see if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. he has also learned how to hold his favorite rattle toy in both hands and also how to confidently bring it to his mouth to taste the plastic and then how to throw it away from himself when he’s had quite enough, thank you. he just continues to be the sweetest, most even-tempered little boy. he loves to hang but is also totally content to kick around out on the deck treegazing and talking to himself. I was pretty sure I’d love having a baby but I kind of thought there would be more caveats slash things where I was like “obviously I love him so much, but…” but there’s just no but. he rocks and it rocks to know him. he’s my little guy. I’m having so much fun.

[snzluv3r]

i actually feel so incredibly uncomfortable and isolated in this space right now and i know that’s silly because of how many people there are just like me who share the same feelings but idk…the fact that people even think this is defensible behavior is making me feel sick

[ikkyfics]

Cake Tasting

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James leaned in, and you only realized when you felt his fingers at the corner of your mouth, wiping away a little bit of whipped cream you hadn’t noticed. He smirked, that mischievous and irresistible smile that always followed him, and murmured in his low, warm voice, "Sorry, there was something here."

Warnings: none

Part 1 of Marry Me

Masterlist

Planning a wedding was a mix of euphoria and chaos, but with James by your side, everything felt like a romantic comedy. You’d been engaged for just a few months, and every detail of the big day was discussed between laughter and teasing, from the flowers to the ceremony time. James insisted that everything should be perfect for you — "The Potter here just wants to see you smile," he’d say, with that passionate sparkle in his blue eyes behind his glasses. And that afternoon, you were at the most delightful stage of the preparations: the cake tasting.

The bakery was a small, cozy place, with shelves lined with cakes decorated as if they had come straight out of a fairy tale. The scent of sugar and vanilla filled the air, making James excited before you even sat down. He adjusted his glasses with a mischievous smile, his messy black hair as usual.

"Ready to see me at my cake-judging peak?" he joked, pulling the chair out for you.

"I don’t even know why you came, James. The decision is mine," you replied, teasing, but smiling.

James laughed, a warm and familiar sound that seemed to fill the room. "Of course it’s yours. I’m just here to make helpful comments and steal any piece you leave behind."

The baker arrived with a tray full of samples. Small, elegant slices of cake were placed in front of you, each with a different frosting or filling. You picked up the fork first, cutting a small piece of vanilla cake with raspberry filling. James watched you as if he were studying a work of art, his smile lingering as you took the bite.

"So? What do you think?" he asked, leaning in closer.

"It’s... good. Fresh, but maybe a little too sweet."

James immediately got excited, taking a large piece of the same slice. "Too sweet? There’s no such thing," he said, before popping the cake into his mouth.

The silence lasted for two seconds before he made an exaggerated grimace. "Okay, maybe there is. Next!"

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "I told you."

The next slice was chocolate with hazelnut cream, and this time, James was the first to try it. He dramatically closed his eyes, as if he were being transported to another universe. "This. This is the one. We’re getting married with this cake."

"You didn’t even wait for me to try it!" you protested, but laughing as you picked up your fork.

"No need. Trust me," he said, but when you tried it, you shook your head.

"It’s good, but too heavy. I don’t want our guests falling asleep at the party."

James put his hand on his chest as if he were hurt. "Heavy? Darling, it’s perfect. Plus, who’s going to sleep when I’m there to liven things up?"

"Exactly why I need a lighter cake, James. You’re already enough to tire anyone out."

He laughed and leaned over the table, his fingertips brushing against yours for a brief moment. "Okay, boss. Your turn to choose."

Finally, you reached a slice of white cake with lemon filling and whipped cream frosting. It was delicate and refreshing, but with a sweet touch that balanced it all. You tried it, and your eyes lit up.

"This is my favorite," you whispered.

James saw the expression on your face and, before even trying it, smiled. "Then this is the one," he declared, taking a piece. When the flavor hit, he nodded slowly. "Okay, it’s approved. But only because you like it."

"You’re so dramatic," you replied, but your smile was evident.

James leaned in, and you only realized when you felt his fingers at the corner of your mouth, wiping away a little bit of whipped cream you hadn’t noticed. The touch was light, but the familiarity and tenderness of the gesture made a subtle warmth rise to your face. He smirked, that mischievous and irresistible smile that always followed him, and murmured in his low, warm voice, "Sorry, there was something here."

Before you could formulate a response — maybe a sarcastic thank you or an attempt to protest — he was already even closer. In an instant, his vibrant blue eyes locked with yours, and the world seemed to shrink down to that silent connection between you. Then, he stole a kiss.

It was soft and sweet at first, as if James wanted to savor the moment, but soon you felt a firmer touch, an intensity that warmed your chest. The taste of lemon was still there, mixing with the familiar comfort of his lips. You closed your eyes without even realizing it, your cheeks burning as one of his hands rested on the table to steady himself.

When he pulled away, just enough so that your faces were still close, the teasing smile was already back. "Tax," he whispered, his voice low and full of humor. "For tolerating my opinion on cakes. And for choosing the most perfect cake for our wedding."

"James," you began, trying to sound serious, but your voice came out softer than planned. It was impossible to hold any indignation when he was so close, with his eyes shining that way and his messy hair falling over his forehead.

He tilted his head slightly, observing each of your reactions with a tenderness that made your heart race. "What? Are you going to tell me I don’t deserve it?" He let his fingers slide from the corner of your mouth to your cheek, tracing such a delicate path that it felt like it tickled your soul.

"You’re impossible," you murmured, but couldn’t stop the smile that appeared at the corner of your lips.

"Impossible to resist, I know," he teased, leaning in to place another kiss, this time at the corner of your mouth, as if to emphasize the point.

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh, but before you could respond, you decided to retaliate. With a quick motion, you grabbed the tie he was wearing — because, of course, James had decided that a cake tasting called for a casual shirt and a loose tie — and pulled him close. It was your turn to kiss him, but with a touch of teasing on your lips.

When you pulled away, James blinked, clearly surprised, and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control, but the dazzled smile betrayed him. "Okay, now you’re playing dirty."

"I learned from the best," you replied, now openly amused.

James let out a laugh, his eyes never leaving yours as his fingers remained delicately on your cheek. "Alright, now I’m going to have to raise my tax rate."

"Oh, you’re not," you said, shaking your head, but already laughing again.

The baker, who clearly tried to give space to the most passionate couple he had ever seen, returned to finalize the order. Throughout it all, James kept his hand in yours, fingers intertwined in a gesture so simple and so full of meaning that it seemed to encapsulate all the love he felt for you.

And as you left the bakery, you were certain that the cake chosen was the right one — not just because it was delicious, but because every step of the journey, by James’ side, made everything perfect.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

bratty fish prince & his butler ….. that’s pretty tasty right ……... but how do i execute it …………. :’)