#i'm going to be posting this fic within the next like half hour so i'll specify

[brittlebutch]

problem with writing a character who sometimes uses words wrong is that it's impossible to tell if the audience will be able to pick up on the fact that you as the author are using that wrong word Intentionally, but sometimes it's just a risk you have to take i guess

[freyjawriter24]

AO3 is down, so I'll have to post this there later and backdate it, but...

Today's 10th July, which means there's only 18 days left until Season 2 of Good Omens!

To commemorate this momentus point in the @gomenseveryday countdown, please enjoy the little fic below the cut...

August 2008: 11 years until Armageddon

Aziraphale was trying desperately not to think about it too much. He was failing, of course. But really, how could he be expected to just forget? This was, quite literally, the end of the world. And even if it was still eleven years away, well, that really wasn't long at all, if you thought about it. Which, despite his best efforts, Aziraphale certainly was.

He'd tried putting on some music to distract himself, but that had failed dismally, too. What a Wonderful World, Louis sang, and the angel couldn't help but picture it as a mourning song, covering everything Aziraphale would be heartbroken to lose when the war destroyed it all.

He'd quickly changed the record, but for some reason the next, usually upbeat track suddenly sounded sinister.

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer,

Goin' faster than a roller coaster...

Oh dear. Eleven years really wasn't much at all, was it? He wished Crowley were here. Why had he only agreed to meet with him the following morning? That was hours away. And in the meantime, he had to sit with memories of destruction and the echo of Buddy's words circling around in his head.

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer...

August 2009: 10 years until the Apocalypse

A decade left, now. Only a decade. Crowley had slept through more than one of those by accident, and now it was all the time they had remaining until either the Earth was annihilated or they, impossibly, miraculously, succeeded. Ten years.

You wouldn't think it, looking at him. Warlock Dowling, the Antichrist. It didn't feel real, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He was still so small. One year old, and so much potential held within him. He looked like any other human child.

Still, ten years. Just a drop in the ocean in Crowley's lifetime, but for a human – a human child in particular – that was aeons. They had time. Time to guide him, time to encourage him, time to carefully balance the good and bad impulses in him so that Hell would fail and Heaven would be denied their war. They could do this. They still had time.

August 2010: 9 years until the End of the World

"It's admirable, really," Michael mused, only half sincere.

"Naïve, is what it is," Gabriel grumbled. "And now we're getting yearly check-ins, as if anything at all is going to change."

Michael nodded sympathetically, and shuffled some paperwork on her desk. She wouldn't have minded Aziraphale's visits really – it often made for an entertaining change of pace, watching him attempt to make his busywork sound important – except that they always seemed to leave Gabriel in a bad mood.

"Well, at least you've got less than a decade left of that to go."

"Yes!" Gabriel said, brightening. "Only nine years left, and then war. What a delightful thought."

Michael smiled. "Glorious indeed."

August 2011: 8 years until the End Times

"I don't get it," Beelzebub muttered.

"He always did like going above and beyond," Dagon reasoned.

"Yeah, but yearly check-ins? It's just pointless. We know the child is going to be evil, he's the Antichrist, for Satan's sake. We don't need constant updates just to state the obvious. Certainly not every year."

Dagon shrugged. "I think he just likes showing off. Fair enough, really. He's been doing some outstanding work up there. It's only demonic that he come and gloat." The Lord of the Files rifled through a damp-looking cabinet, and pulled out a mouldy-looking folder. "Have you seen what he did with the global economy the other year? I'm thinking of sending him another commendation for that."

Beelzebub hadn't, but didn't want to let on in case Dagon launched into an explanation. "Why doesn't he come and give us presentations on that, then, rather than some snivelling child?"

Dagon raised an eyebrow. "Because you'd hate that too, and understand it even less. He's not stupid. Don't you remember the M25?"

Beelzebub groaned. "Okay, yeah, fair enough." There was silence for a moment, broken only by the steady drip of yet another broken pipe. Then: "Do you trust him, though?"

Dagon snorted. "No. Of course not."

"Good. Just checking."

"Like I said, he's doing it for his own benefit, not ours. Self-obsessed little prick, prancing his pet project in front of us every year. But at least it's only for another handful."

"Mmm. Suppose so."

Beelzebub looked gloomily into a corner, lost in thought.

Dagon sighed and slammed the filing cabinet shut. "Want to go torture someone for a bit?"

"Fuck yes. I thought you'd never ask."

August 2012: 7 years until the Destruction of Earth.

Everyone was so happy this year. London was buzzing with the energy of it all, the weather seemed determined to echo the mood, and Warlock was picking up on the collective indulgence in the simple joy of living.

You wouldn't think there was only seven years left of all this.

They took him to the Olympic Stadium, and the O2, and the Velodrome, even though he was probably still too young to understand all the rules and nuances of the sports they were watching. He loved clapping and cheering, though, and would do so regardless of who won, calling out with pride when Kenya got gold, when France did, when China did.

Thaddeus was getting more and more red in the face with each passing win for another country, but Nanny Ashtoreth's sharp gaze stopped him from doing anything about it. She'd had the forethought to warn him in advance that there would be no stifling of Warlock's joy this summer, as he was far too young to be trying to understand the nuances of the geopolitical landscape his father occupied.

Harriet sat fairly quietly the whole time, trying not to look bored, and clapping politely whenever either the USA or UK did well.

When it came to his birthday towards the end of the month, Warlock's parents got him a bike. A simple gesture, but one surprisingly aware of their son's interests.

Nanny carefully fitted a pair of stabilisers to it, and Brother Francis gifted Warlock a set of knee pads and elbow pads, alongside a helmet printed with an illustration of grass and ladybirds.

Warlock learned quickly, and took great joy in shouting out garbled imitations of Olympic commentary as he cycled around the garden.

"And Warlock Dowling cwruches his enemies under his heel, shooting stwaight into first place and winning five hundred gold medals for Team GB. And, uh, America."

Nanny watched with pride, and ignored the flutter of nerves that whispered that she might be doing a better job at influencing the child than her counterpart, and all that would mean.

August 2013: 6 years until the start of the Second Angelic War

Brother Francis tried not to think too hard about it all while he neatened up the flowerbeds for the garden party that afternoon. Warlock was turning five, and miraculously the weather had speckled the garden with enough rain overnight to keep everything looking green and vibrant without threatening any ruination to the outdoor celebration that was to come.

Five years old. Six years left.

He tried not to think about flaming swords and burning wings. Tried not to consider what might become of this garden in a few short years if they failed. Tried not to imagine what would happen to the Antichrist himself if he accepted all his inborn power.

"Brovver Francis!" came a high-pitched call, and the gardener turned to see Warlock – still tiny, really, barely more than a toddler – running across the grass towards him, Nanny following protectively just behind.

"Hello young Master Warlock. And happiest of birthdays to you! How old are you now?"

"Four," Warlock said, a little uncertainly.

"Ah, you were four, weren't you my little Prince of Darkness," Nanny said, crouching down. "But today is your birthday, and that means you get to add one year to your age! So how old are you now?"

"Five!" Warlock said brightly.

"Yes, you clever little cherub!" Brother Francis beamed.

Cherub? Nanny mouthed over Warlock's head.

Francis raised his eyebrows and shrugged slightly. Ashtoreth rolled her eyes.

"Almost halfway to conquering the world, aren't you, my little charcoal dove?"

The gardener gave Nanny a look then, too, but she just smiled, a touch wickedly.

"Come on then, Warlock, let's let Brother Francis finish his work so everything's ready for your party."

"Okay Nanny! Bye Brovver Francis!"

"Goodbye, Warlock!"

Only six years left.

August 2014: 5 years until the End of Humanity

Warlock was turning six this year. He was very excited.

Six was bigger than five, and four, and three, and two, and one. It was much bigger than zero. Not quite as big as seven, true, but six was a very good number. It did lots of clever things with factors and division, which Warlock liked, and it had a special sort of meaning when three of them were next to each other, which Nanny liked. And three was half of six, too, so even better. Warlock liked maths a lot.

Six was also over halfway to eleven, which Nanny said was going to be important. That was when he'd come into his powers and rule the world. Mummy said it was when he'd go to big school, too, so maybe that was what Nanny meant. But either way, he was over halfway there now. Six was a very good number.

August 2015: 4 years until the Events of Revelations Come to Pass

Warlock had been looking forward to his birthday, as usual, until he'd learnt from his father that seven-year-olds don't have nannies, they have tutors, and that meant Ashtoreth would be leaving him soon. The child was heartbroken, and even Nanny couldn't console him for several days.

He seemed to cheer up a bit, though, when he met the first of his two new tutors – Mr Harrison, it appeared to Thaddeus and Harriet, was exactly the sort of no-nonsense teacher that little Warlock needed to get over his childish attachment to his Nanny. Warlock looked up at his new tutor in awe, and chose not to suggest otherwise to his parents.

The changeover day was to be his birthday, when neither Nanny nor tutors would be required, and it thus marked a turning point in young Warlock's life. But he knew he would be safe. Growing up wasn't all that scary when you had trusted people there to protect you. And, as it turned out, Mr Cortese looked rather familiar too. Maybe the future was going to be okay after all.

August 2016: 3 years until the End of Days

"Maths! Why did it have to be maths?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine where he gets it from."

"Makes no sense at all."

Warlock was thriving in his lessons, but that was the one thing Mr Harrison really couldn't get over. Maths.

"I mean, if it had been anything else..."

"Well, perhaps it's our fault. We really should have learnt enough by now to keep up with him on it."

"Yes, but..." Mr Harrison spluttered for a moment, unable to articulate his thoughts. "It's maths."

"Point taken."

The only maths Mr Harrison was capable of doing at the moment was subtraction. Specifically, counting down from eleven. And he was getting shockingly close to zero now...

August 2017: 2 years until the Day of Reckoning

Mr Cortese was getting rather into this teaching lark. He hadn't done much of it for centuries, but the knack hadn't left him, and he was rather enjoying things. Pity about the maths, but he was less distraught about that than his counterpart.

He just had to remember that this wasn't forever. It was a temporary measure, designed to prevent the end of the human race and all life on earth.

He didn't like reminding himself of that. But needs must. He shouldn't lose sight of the goal.

Not that Buddy was letting him forget any time soon.

August 2018: 1 year until Judgement Day

The tutors both got Warlock's birthday off, and so Crowley and Aziraphale were holed up in the bookshop, celebrating dismally the one-year-left anniversary.

"It will be fine, won't it?"

"We've done all we can."

"Not quite yet. Still a year left."

"Yes. A year."

They sat in silence for a long while. Well, the outside world was silent – Aziraphale could still hear the echoes of an earworm he'd had for the last decade, insistent and unrelenting. He began to tap his foot absentmindedly.

"What's that you've got there, angel?" Crowley asked after a few moments.

"Hmm?"

"What's in your head? You're tapping."

"Oh. Yes." He sighed. "Buddy Holly."

"...Buddy Holly?"

The angel sighed again, then got up and put the offending record on. The upbeat music filled the bookshop, and the demon winced.

"Ah. Buddy Holly."

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer...

August 2019: Adam Young's 11th Birthday

Adam opened his eyes. Yes. Today was the day. Eleven years old. He he grinned up at the ceiling, then scrambled out of bed, still grinning, and headed downstairs.

Today was going to be a brilliant day.

[comesitintheclover]

Six Sentence Sunday Monday 📚📜🖊️

Thank you so much for the tag @bookish-bogwitch! your chart is awesome!

I will remember to try that/ a similar thing if I keep having issues with this fic I'm writing (but I should at least try to slog through a first draft of my trouble chapters first - i just get so anxious that I will fuck up the funny-conflict and make it miserable or something when it's 'perfect' (but vague af) in my brain and has been that way for 4 years...).

And thank you everyone who has tagged me in the last months/year <3 @nausikaaa, @ileadacharmedlife, @monbons, @supercutedinosaurs, @brendughh, @rimeswithpurple, and anyone else if I missed you because my tumblr notifs won't go that far back 😭💗💞💖 I love you all! Thank you for including me in the community even when I haven't been writing for a while! It's been so inspiring seeing what you all have been up to and I've finally started writing again so yay!

My goal is to finish this fic I've been writing for four years (i've written what I'm estimating is 50k words freehand and am transcribing and editing them onto my laptop and I still need to write the other half ... hahahaha 😅. But I love it. ) called *The Long Summer*, within a month (the first draft at least, I'll come back and edit it at a later date. I want to post it on ao3 over a summer so hopefully I will be ready next summer! I need to write it while I still love it!), and then I want to write the first draft of an original story for a month or so/NaNoWriMo, and then I will pick one of my Carry On WIPs to work on (hopefully just in time to celebrate snowbaz's anniversary!)

(The Carry On WIPs in question: I'm thinking I will probably pick my soulmate au fic called Meet the Parents/When You're an Adult You'll Understand, or a trans au called Fraternity house, orrrrr this magical Agony-Aunt fic called Basilton Grimm-Pitch’s 10 Step Plan for Getting Over*(letting himself be in love with) Simon Snow ).

And I'm planning to interact more with wip-wednesdays and six-sentence-sundays from now on to keep me motivated and accountable! (hopefully this works, battling my motivation is like trying to wrestle a fish or something... i'm constantly at a loss with my brain - oh why won't I do things that I love and have time to do??)

....Oh and I want to make some Carry On animations.... (this is probably why I don't do things... Too ideas many and hard to pick. I tried to make a schedule last night that included everything I wanted to do in a day and it was 35 hours long... oops).

*The Long Summer* is a harry potter fic, and since I know all of you lovely people from Carry On, and I know lots of people avoid hp stuff for obvious reasons (JKR is wrong! Trans liberation now!), I will keep the rest of this under the cut <3

here are the first six sentences from my 💗beloved fic����:

Ron Weasley wasn't an introspective soul. By the time something actually rolled around to happening he would probably have had twelve chances to predict it, if he was Hermione. He presumed something like this would never have happened to Hermione. Summers were probably a lot more quiet in the Muggle world, as an only child, with parents who weren’t - well Hermione was so smart she probably already knew, no there was really no reason to write to her. And Harry - well he didn't want to write to Harry about it either.  Honestly, it would probably be better if he never found out.

(I wrote these when I was 16 and they may need editing but that's for future me to worry about - rn I'm trying to push out a first draft as fast as possible...)

Thank you to anyone who read this far!

Hi!'s, tags, and hand-hearts to everybody 🫶 @stitchy-queerista, @umdiasujo, @carpeosculum, and open tag to anyone who wants to be tagged! <3

[thebigsl33p]

Our Last Summer

A/N: Hello! It's been so long since I posted something, oh my God! It is my birthday on Sunday, but I thought I'd pump out loads of work. There will be another fic coming out soon with a similar title but instead with "I can still recall Our Last Summer" and that will be a Lockwood and Co. Fic (book based. I loved those books but Skulduggery Pleasant comes first. British schoolgirl things.) So Yeah... It will probably be an Anthony Lockwood X Reader!

Morpheus remembers that summer so vividly.

When he closes his eyes he can still smell the oranges, can still see her stretching up to pull them off the tree and her fingers messily digging into the skin, juice trickling over her hands. It's the smell that really pulls the memory to the front of his mind.

The smell of fields. Fresh cut grass, the oranges, the spots of lavender that surrounded her as she splayed out amongst the green blades and offered him half her orange before plucking a piece of lavender, smelling it and closing her eyes.

He would let her lay there for a while, looming over her. He would watch her, take in the complexity of her hair and skin under the sunlight, the slight warmth in her cheeks and the curls of her hair, how her eyes were so dark you could barely see her iris but when the sun hit her just right they would light up with gold.

He had loved wholly, and he would love wholly again, but none of his lovers would bring the sense of comfort Y/N did. With her, life was so simple. All the decisions he had to make were so straightforward, and every single one of them was made lying in a field, with her next to him or in his arms.

Morpheus also remembers the last day of that summer.

He had waited for so long, until the sun began to set. Until the sky burned with clouds of orange and pink and blue. And then finally, on a hill in the distance, he saw a figure - a shadow. It waved slightly, gently, before it began to walk down the hill towards him and the moment she came into view he frowned.

"Where were you?" he asked, once she'd reached him.

Gently, she folded her hands in front of herself, "I must go." She said, simply.

"Go? I don't-"

"This is the last day of summer." She waved her hand to the sun which was setting in the sky, earlier than the previous days, "I must be gone by tomorrow's dawn, the first day of winter." She stared at him, the slight confusion in his eyes, "Didn't you ever wonder who I was?"

He felt stupid, staring at her with lovestruck and pained eyes. It was so obvious now. He had presumed that other personifications were myths, extinct stories that were whispered on the air, but now she was standing in front of him. The golden sun hit her perfectly, she smelt like a warm breeze, the way nature seemed to hug her.

Summer. She was Summer. And now Winter was coming, she had to go.

"Summer," he had to say her name out loud, to know that she was real and he watched the slight recognition in her eyes and the slight nod of her head, "Where will you go when Winter arrives tomorrow?"

"I don't know." She was honest, "It's always Summer somewhere. I'm always needed, I'll always have a home. I just chose to make mine with you."

"There are places where it's always Summer in The Dreaming." The words just slipped out so easily, "Come live with us." Come be with me. Stay with me.

"Really?" She let an excited little smile slip onto her face, "You mean it?"

"Yes." He nodded and took her hands, "Yes."

And that was how, a year later, the smell of Oranges haunted his throne room. Occasionally Lavender followed it or Rose. Every time it took him back to that day, that summer spent in fields and sun. Y/N, which Summer went by, had ust left the throne room, and would be back within three hours with a basket of fresh fruit and freshly baked bread from The Dreaming. True, he could just provide her with these things with a flick of his hand.

But she liked to interact with the people of The Dreaming, and who was he to deny her. Especially considering his plans to make her their Queen.

[chocochipbiscuit]

Heya! Right back atcha for the shop talk ask meme!

🎻- Where do you look when you need some inspiration?

💥- What does your writing schedule look like?

🎻- Where do you look when you need some inspiration?

That depends! My brain is a magpie; I rarely look and think 'oh, I need inspiration, I'm going to do X.' Instead, if I'm feeling stale or uninspired, I just pursue whatever my current interest is or seek out whatever looks fun/different.

That said: generally, I try to read/consume within the genre or setting that I'm seeking inspiration for. Example: when I was into Dishonored, I happened to go to a local maritime museum with my mother and soaked up a lot of info (most of which I've already forgotten, alas) and it helped me feel more grounded in the setting I was trying to write. I read more horror fiction when I was writing a more horror-adjacent fic. I also love romance novels and will often read them not just as brain candy, but as a way of figuring out emotional beats for relationship arcs when writing shipfic.

Nonfiction books are great. Museums are better. Doing something physical and mindless (going for a jog, walking the dogs, etc) without a distraction like my phone or music are also good when I'm trying to answer "what happens next?" for a particular story.

💥- What does your writing schedule look like?

I try to be consistent, even if it's not daily. I try to sit down and write a few lines in a Mead notebook, because something about the act of physically writing feels more freeing to me than staring at the blank page of my laptop. I'm also a weirdo where if I get a specific line or piece of dialogue in my head, I'll try to write it down, even if it's just on a Post-It note I stick in my pocket. I don't always use these fragments, but it keeps me mentally limber.

When I sit down for planned writing (as in, intentionally trying to work on a particular fic and type it up) I try to give myself at least half an hour of uninterrupted time, a warm drink (preferably tea), and put my phone out of reach so I won't be tempted to scroll.

Thank you for the ask! I feel like so many of my answers fall into 'that depends' just because my work schedule varies, and I can't always do 'morning pages' or whatever because I need to feed and walk the dogs whenever I wake up!

(Part of the Writing Shop Talk ask meme.)

[drysaladandketchup]

Writing Meme

Tagged by my dear @irrelevanttous <3

RULES: go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason

first fic you ever published on Ao3: Spirit of Champions, for the Supernatural/Destiel fandom. I don't even know why I'm linking the fic, it was ten years ago I'd like to think my writing has improved a lot since then so... maybe don't read it lol. I actually have another fic that says it was posted on the same date but I think that's because I moved them both over from livejournal at the same time, so whatever

last fic you published: Acts of Devotion for the Hockey/Mattdrai fandom. Much prouder of this fic haha, though I was still getting a feel for hockey and these guys during it's construction. It hopefully won't be my last mattdrai fic though. Got a few ideas and WIPs sitting in my drafts

a fic you wrote for a fandom/ship only once: I don't think I've ever written just one fic for a fandom. Though I certainly have many abandoned WIP's and a few unpublished fics from days gone by. Also due to a lack of ideas or energy, I often end up publishing nothing for a fandom, despite my love for it. But I'll go with the fandom I only published two fics for. After Life's Fitful Fever, He Sleeps Well for The Terror. It's actually a platonic ship (if that counts? Depends on your definition of 'ship' I suppose), but it's still one I'm quite fond of overall

favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship with the most works: well I already mentioned Supernatural, so that would be the obvious answer lol. But I already did that, so I'm going to go with a fic from the next biggest fandom I've published for. Which I would say is String Theory for Final Fantasy XV. The only FF game I've ever played, but I had a grand old time, made a lot of friends and had a lot of growth in that community

fic you wish more people read: Can I say any of my fics from the Dunkirk fandom? No? Boo. It's a tiny fandom so I don't expect a tonne of interaction haha. But it is the fandom I've written the most for. Ideas just kept on coming (probably because I love history and angst). So I'd say... Where You Were, Where You're Needed. My first for the fandom, and one I still love dearly

fic you agonized over the most: Skybound, for Dunkirk. It's the only novel-length fic I've written, and it took me two years. I also didn't publish it until it was completely finished, edited, re-drafted, and remodelled within an inch of it's life so... yeah that one. Plus all the history research and story planning that went into it was a lot more than I usually do. It was fun, I'm glad I finished it, but fuck I don't know how people write novels regularly. Stephen King tell me your secret

fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort: For The Glory, for the Hockey/Mattdrai fandom. Maybe the fastest I've written anything. Basically wrote it from start to finish within a couple hours, not including food and sleep. Not a monumental fic, no, but for someone with chronic fatigue and adhd... astounding. It was very much a result of conversations with M. and her determination to drag me into hockey and mattdrai. Successfully, clearly haha

work you are proud of: I'm going to say Skybound again. Small fandom, but a huge fic for me. One I could probably turn into an original piece with minimal finagling if I wanted. I would also like to think one could enjoy the fic without having seen Dunkirk. That being said, now that it's been over a year a half since I finished it, I'm already looking at it thinking 'I could have written this differently. I could have removed this or tweaked that.' Editor hell. But I'm leaving it as is, using it as a benchmark for my (hopefully) continued improvement as a writer. I think I improved over the course of writing it, even. A lot changed from inception to publication. But I'm no less proud of it, as a written work or as a story. I did what I wanted, and I wrote the exact story I wanted to read. So I'm happy :)

Thank you for the tag, M.! <3

[the--sound--of--rain]

2022 Writers' Review

It's already two months into the year, but I'm still going to do this, because I think it's such a nice thing. I was tagged by @lavandulacosmos and @natures-marvel thank you! 💕

1. What is your AO3 account?

brownest_goldfish

2. How many words did you write total in 2022?

34'481, according to AO3 stats

It's not a lot of words, but I feel like this was the year I've developed most as a writer so far, especially writing the first chapter of Lamb and the last chapter of my spooktober fic and I'm very proud of that ✨

3. How many fics did you publish in 2022? How many multichapters vs oneshots?

12 fics, 3 multichaptered and 9 oneshots (and of the 3 multichaptered ones only one is finished so you can see that this is not where my strength lies agajsks but i'm trying to do it more and i actually love it!)

4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?

"A Lover in the story" (finished) is the longest at 9987 words but I published 5000 of those in 2023. Otherwise the longest is "A Lamb for Our Love" at 8618 words so far (one of two chapters)

The shortest is "With a smile" at 412 words. The shortness is owed to it being only one scene, more of a picture I imagined after reading Cry Wolf by @roccinan – and since I can't draw, I decide to write it down 🥰

5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?

I find this so hard to say, because numbers can never really encapsulate this, and every piece of appreciation from anyone for any fic is a gem in itself. But just for simplicity I'll go for Kudos and Hits here:

The one with most Kudos and Hits is funnily one I didn't write for Berlermo, but for "Arcane" as a birthday gift for @stilljustbitten: "Ice blue" got 113 Kudos and 842 Hits, probably owed to the fact that this fandom is just a bit bigger. My most popular Berlermo fic in 2022 in numbers is "Art and Attraction" at 83 Kudos and 755 Hits.

The least popular in numbers is "Love wins" at 16 Kudos and 146 Hits.

6. What fic didn’t perform as well as you thought it would?

I didn't expect a specific amount of reaction on any of them, so I'd say none of them. Every interaction with on of my fics just made me go "oh!🥰"

7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?

I'd say "Like the Painting of a sorrow" because it was this oneshot I came up with, wrote and posted within 24 hours, a random idea after reading Dorian Gray. That being said, I am very proud and fond of it, so it made me so happy that it was appreciated!

And also "Love wins", I struggled getting the first chapter together and was worried it was too chaotic, and I was so happy it got good feedback.

8. What was your favorite fic you wrote from 2022?

I'm most proud of and currently most emotionally attached to "A Lover in the story". I'm especially proud of the last chapter, mostly because I managed to write it at all and make something I really like of it.

A Lamb for our Love stands right next to it though – although it's still not finished. (Not because I neglected it, but just because the second chapter is so hard to write) and I'm so excited for what it will become <3

9. What was your favorite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?

Reducing this to one would be a shame, so I'll list a few 😊

and that was the moment i knew by @alfredo-kesmann

Andrés has Hanahaki disease and coughs up red roses. Whose favourite flowers could those be?

It had started with inconspicuous coughing, a few weeks ago. Soon followed the shaky breaths, the trouble breathing normally at random times. Then, came the shaking fingers, half a week later, creating unavoidable unsteady black lines in the painting he had been working on, the jawline of his self portrait now ruined.

A beautiful take on the trope, with all the drama befitting Berlermo, and overall an extremely romantic and enjoyable read.

Chimera 키메라 by @signorin-anarchia

A sort of crossover of Money Heist Korea and La casa de papel. Andrés is in the concentration camp Korean Berlin was in. Martín joins him there.

His mother's arms are a cradle, a safe haven.

A shelter from all that is evil on earth.

He can remember the faded feeling of bones colliding, rubbing, which nevertheless feels as comfortable as nothing in the world.

Nothing in the whole world.

But there's never much more than anything in the world.

And now his mother's arms are pincers, stealing his life, locking his way.

A very interesting concept with beautiful execution, and very poetic prose that aches just right when you read it.

The Swan's Symphony by @nharidy

Martín plans another and executes heist after the gold heist, and a rescue mission for Andrés on the side – who is alive but asuffering <3. All the old members of the gang are there, and also a lot of new additions.

“Is this true?” Estocolmo asked, turning to El Professor. Mirko, however, was looking at Palermo. It doesn't matter whether it's true or not , he realized. Palermo wasn’t there because one night in the future he might get killed in his bed. 

No, he was there for the one and only reason he's ever done anything since Mirko knew him.

El Profesor sighed.

This genuinely feels like a continuation of lcdp. It gives all the vibes of the show, the characters, their interactions and the action, flashbacks and execution of the heist are spot on. Just overall extremely fun to read.

Remember what your old pal said by @roccinan

La casa de papel Toy Story AU. Andrés is a bullfighter doll, and he finds Martín in the collection he belongs to. But what is Martín really up to?

Andrés is beautiful. And he doesn’t need a mirror to tell him what he already knows. Because he can stare at anything that bounces back light for a wonderful view of himself from head to toe: sunglasses, helmet visors, watches, or even the window on a bright spring day.

He has a slim, well-proportioned frame, a statuesque figure that expertly hides a body of incredible might and power within its wires.

This is genuinely just hilarious, and Andrés is perfectly delusional in it. And the Berlermo romance is so sweet – with an added element of darkness, of course.

10. Tag your friends to do this year-end fic review as well!

I think everyone has already been tagged and done this agajsks but I'll tag the ones I haven't seen doing it, please just ignore this if you have ✌🏼💕 @dormarunt @liz @signorin-anarchia @oreo @lammaducks ✨

[lilalbatross]

5, 10, 15, 16, 19, 27, 29, 30 for the ao3 ask meme <33

oh boy okay here we go

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

definitely Anything for you, my Shoresy fic. teeny tiny fandom for a weird niche canadian hockey comedy, but the response i got was really lovely and it's somehow in my top 5 for kudos, comments, and bookmarks. that was the first thing i posted after a couple brutal months for mental health and writers block, so those comments and stuff are really special to me

and then a special mention to chapters 6 and 7 of Austin Alone because people came fucking flying out of the woodwork to scream at us within the first couple hours of posting lmao i don't think i'll ever see anything like that ever again

10. What work was the quickest to write?

oh hands down it's What the fuck is with the spatula?, which i wrote in a single 4ish-hour sitting and a lot of that time was spent rewatching the Are You The One? ep they're watching so i could get the sequence of events right lmao. look, i just have a lot of feelings about drunk idiots brute forcing their way through complex probability with a spatula, and i needed to project that onto my otp

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

dragging the carcasses of so many half-written fics, but trying to actively work on Acesodyne, which is a billy x owen post-1x07 multichap canon divergence about injury and music and grief and healing and i’m trying not to let it spiral out of control and it may not ever get posted even if i do finish it but hey we’ll give it a shot.

also determined to actually finish Downpour, which literally started as just “i bet if they stood in the rain Billy’s hair would get in his face and it would be cute and Owen would kiss him about it” and somehow turned into a bit of a trauma and body worship thing??? idk don’t ask me i don’t have any answers but i do have a 2.5k partial draft that i should put some hours into

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

lol it's "Established Relationship" from all my billy x owen oneshots where they're together at the start and i'm not giving you all the fucking backstory for how that happened, just jump in and we're off.

(...but also you and i know that the "how that happened" is usually Austin Alone if people know what details to look for lmao)

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

i don’t see myself drifting away from billy x owen any time soon, so definitely gonna keep thinking about those bastards more than literally anybody else in this fandom (except you lol). i also want to do more Shoresy/Goody. i wrote the one oneshot, but i have a multichap outline that needs some massaging and i think could be interesting. and i get to slam more canadiana into fic, which i really can’t do when all my other shit takes place in texas lmao

and then i’m sure i’ll get surprised by a pairing and end up spitting out something isn’t even on my radar yet. who knows, maybe i’ll finally find a Ted Lasso pairing that i want to write about. Colin and...[insert name here idk we’ll see but if i write about anyone it’ll probably be Colin]

27. What do you listen to while writing?

*gestures vaguely at my entire spotify wrapped* no but seriously. depends on the fic but i’ll generally have a playlist, album, or even song that i loop for each fic. sitting there long after midnight had a very angsty playlist. touch the sky and bite the asphalt was Maneskin’s album Teatro d’ira hence the fic title. i’m pretty sure with a gift for burning was Let Me Drown by Orville Peck. Acesodyne’s playlist is heavier on acoustic guitar/pop-punk because it’s a lot of songs that i know how to play on guitar so i can connect a physicality to what i’m trying to write

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

gonna resist every bone in my body that wants to be self-deprecating and couch this with all the weaknesses i see etc etc. big fan of this paragraph from with a gift for burning:

So many voices he wants to hear tonight. Numbers he knows by heart, burned into his muscle memory and connected to nothing. Harkes’ line had stayed in service the longest. Nobody canceled his contract, and it rang to voicemail for months before the unpaid bills piled up and his line was cut off. Billy called, again and again on bad nights, until his mouth shaped the words in time with Harkes’ rhythm. “Yo, it’s Jake. Leave a message if you want, but you should have just texted.” The last time he called, a confused teenage girl picked up and Billy threw his phone against the wall.

I was a little drunk when i wrote it, and then when i reread it i immediately had a moment of “oh :(” and then i knew i was onto some shit and it helped me break the direction the rest of the fic was gonna go lol

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

I did not expect my stuff to steer so hard into angst quite as much as it does???

but also in some ways biggest surprise was just that i...can... (don’t look at me)

send me ao3 wrapped questions if you want

[thera-daydreams]

PLUS ONE

》 A TRESE TWOSHOT 《

[Maliksi x Reader]

📝 Summary: In which your beloved best friend snatches you from your apartment at dawn asking you to be his plus one for his cousin's wedding. Unbeknownst to the clueless you, everything is just going according to Maliksi's ultimate masterplan. With the help of friends and family, the Prince of the Tikbalang finally gets the girl he's been longing for. And oh, Señor Armanaz gets his dream daughter-in-law and the promise of grandchildren within the year.

📌 Warning: May contain some slight NSFW for spicy suggestiveness and cussing. No smut or anything super SPG—this girl can't write that for her life—but just be prepared. It's Maliksi we're talking about. We've got friends-to-lovers, obliviousness, pining, fluff, and a tikbalang simp. Figure it out. 😃

(word count: 7,454) ♥︎ Part Two: ?

》 AUTHOR'S NOTE 《

Not an Inday spinoff, but a lengthy oneshot in celebration of this blog getting 90 followers. Just ten more to 100, yay! Thank you so much for the love and support, everyone. I also promised that I'll be making this brainrot that @binibiningbabaylan and I have fangirled over a few days ago (find the original post here) when I finished the latest chapter of Inday. Here it is! 🥰

Before I forget, I was also inspired by the cute fic made by @crispybasil titled "Sunshowers" and the "Trese Boys As Things My Guy Friends Do" made by the amazing @smolla-than-a-bug (I bow down to your wonderful works in the Trese fandom). I definitely see Maliksi to be the type to go on spontaneous roadtrips and be the boyfriend to drive you around eveeeerywhere (while also driving you crazy). 🚘

There are also some songs mentioned throughout this work. You should probably listen to them while reading for the full experience. Ending was somewhat rushed but eh, I'm too exhausted and I've rewritten it too many times. Also, if someone makes some actual tikbalang smut, tag me please. Anyways, enjoy! 💕

The way it all started was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious. It happened like a blur. Literally. One second, you were snoozing in your bed. The next? You had a seatbelt on in the shotgun seat of a sophisticated-looking car. Your brain didn't even get to process it yet.

"... So let me get this straight," you grumbled, still half-asleep from your sleep marathon. You just finished a hugely successful project at work yesterday, got promoted, and wanted to make up for the restless nights you spent overtime in the office. Of course you were irritated from being disturbed. You were on vacation leave for two entire weeks, originally planning to go into temporary isolation by deactivating your social media accounts and reserving a beach cabana for yourself in Batangas.

Well, turns out, you weren't going to Batangas anytime soon. All because your unreasonably spontaneous bestfriend of ten hectic years stole you from your apartment at 2AM. Was this considered kidnapping? Was this him just being more in touch with his tikbalang side, taking unsuspecting women in their sleep and leading them to their inevitable death? (He was going over the speed limit, so it was a valid thought.) Will wearing your shirt inside-out save you today? Lord, masyado ka pang pagod para mag-isip ngayon.

"Go on."

"You abducted picked me up in the middle of the night because you want me to be your plus one at your cousin's wedding in Tagaytay?"

"Yup. And technically, the venue is right on the outskirts of Cavite going to Tagaytay," he corrected you as a matter-of-factly.

"Same thing, whatever," you huffed tiredly. "Your cousin's wedding is at 6AM today. In a few hours. In four hours."

"Uh-huh."

You groaned exasperatedly, "Mal naman, eh! You didn't even let me bring anything. Could've at least given me a heads-up a few hours ago. I'm practically emptyhanded right now save for my phone! Sinungaling ka, you said this was just a normal midnight drive—not a freaking wedding!"

The Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang, son of the Great Stallion, heir to the Armanaz herd, and the Top Drag Racer of C-5 Expressway—if that was even one of his Game of Thrones-like titles—grinned as he continued driving beside you. He let you continue ranting in the passenger seat while he mulled over his ultimate masterplan that would change his entire life later on. He was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, so all this wasn't his thing. But for you? He'll make plans, alright.

"Wala man lang akong dinalang masusuot o kahit konting makeup para maging presentable sa harapan ng buong pamilya mo," you exclaimed, in absolute despair. "Do you know how out of my league you are? Your rich-ass family might judge me—hell, your dad might see me as a hampaslupa if I show up there in my pambahay and tsinelas!"

"Psh, I'm not out of your league," Maliksi waved it off, smoothly turning a corner. "And calm down. We've known each other for a decade! My dad practically loves you as his own daughter. Heck, the entire family knows you and keeps telling me they want you adopted in already. Lolo Andres and Lola Perlita said they'd have the paperwork settled. You just need to sign them."

It would be even better (and easier) if you married into the family. To him, specifically (as if he'd let anyone else have you). God, he was already being so obvious in his advances, but you were just so damn oblivious whenever it came to romance. None of this needed to happen if you just got it through your thick skull that he was madly in love with you.

"That's not the point, idiot!" you slumped back into your seat, hopeless. "Do you think the bride and the groom will get offended? Shit, baka masumpaan ako kung magagalit sila, Mal. Mukha akong patay galing sa South Cemetery."

The long-haired tikbalang rolled his eyes, "Huwag kang mag-alala. Nothing's going to go wrong. Chill ka lang diyan. I've got everything under control, babe."

Babe. Yes, he even called you babe but you thought it was him being a himbo and a massive flirt. Now, it was his common term of endearment for you, but you still assumed it was him just being irksome to you and that you couldn't stop the man from saying it anymore. Thus, you let it be (the most obvious hint of his attraction to you, bestie).

"... Ugh, why didn't you ask Hannah or Amie to go with you?"

He just smiled knowingly, shrugging and making up an excuse, "Nagmamadali ako, eh. Hannah and Amie are also coming, but they already have the other tikbalang as dates."

"'Luh, ako pala ang backup choice mo?"

"Heh. Whatever you want to think."

Little did you know that you were always his first choice. Always. Even when he pursued Alexandra Trese many years ago, trying to convince himself you were just his best friend, it was always you. How did he come to that realization? Well, an international band he was a fan of released a song a couple years ago and he heard it being played in a club in BGC. The song title?

It Was Always You by Maroon 5.

Needless to say, after hearing the song and being unable to get it—get you—out of his mind at night, he stopped courting Alexandra. Unfortunately for him, that time, you'd started dating other men. Therefore, he was left on the sidelines... until your latest and most painful breakup, at least. That was five years ago. You still hadn't dated anyone since then, kind of traumatized from getting into another failed relationship like that.

In the present day, as if the fates were playing on you two, one of your favorite artists played on the radio. A very ironic song given the situation you two were in.

Best Friend by Rex Orange County.

Maliksi knew it was a favorite of yours. He knew it by the way your eyes lit up like a star brightening the twinkling night sky. Like the sun first rising in the morning at Apolaki's command. Like the moon extending its gentle rays from the magic of Mayari herself. If there was anything he wanted to ask of the old gods, it was you—everything else be damned.

"I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake," you half-sang and half-screamed happily, somewhat out-of-tune. "I can't wait to be your number oooooone! I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine—"

Maliksi glanced at you, not minding that his eardrums were probably getting microscopic ruptures from your aggressive singing. As much as he wanted to stare at you all day, he had to keep his eyes on the road. But the lyrics you were singing were wrong; the Prince of the Tikbalang was already yours from day one.

"Babe, McDo drive-through tayo for breakfast. Let me make it up to you. Gusto mo ng caramel sundae for your promotion gift? Sige. Ako bahala. Chicken nuggets din? Mabubusog ka ba niyan? I don't think they serve those this early..."

》》》

"Sandali lang!" you shouted out from inside an empty room. You'd just arrived at the venue—the Alta Veranda de Tibig in Silang, Cavite (practically the gateway to Tagaytay)—an hour or so ago. The hired makeup artist just left so that you could privately change into the outfit that had been bought specifically for you. Curse Mal and his ability to buy anything (perhaps anyone) he wanted. "Bwiset, Mal, you didn't tell me we'd be part of the damn entourage. We have to be walking the aisle in thirty minutes, simbako! You just love rushing me, don't you!?"

If only you were the one walking down the aisle today towards him.

When you exited the room, Maliksi couldn't help but let his jaw drop as he skimmed your figure, clad in the luxurious, silky satin blush midi dress he bought in one of those fancy stores in Makati yesterday. He imagined that it would look great on you, but now, seeing it on you in person... you looked divine (and frankly, he wanted to see it off your body to see what was underneath—but don't get too ahead of yourself, Mal). It was a whole 'nother level from his imagination. The deep cowl neckline and thin spaghetti straps showed your lovely collarbones... as well as a peek of your cleavage. His favorite and the best part of it all? It was backless, allowing him to gaze at the tempting curve of your spine.

He hadn't realized he had grown silent until you smiled and closed his mouth, tapping his chin.

"Lalangawin ang bibig mo, Mal," you laughed softly. Never had you seen him so speechless. You then flicked your hair back, ridiculously posing for him like you were on the cover of Vogue magazine (haba ng hair mo, gurl!). "Do I look that good? Char lang."

"... You look absolutely ravishing—I mean, uh, stunning. Hot. Yeah." That was all he could say. He mentally punched himself for not showering you with more suave compliments.

Still, your face brightened up, not knowing that the man in front of you just fell for you a thousand times harder, "Wow! Really? Damn. Ang galing talaga ng MUA na kinuha mo, ginawa akong artista. Give me their contact number later! May work event pa naman ako in two months. I'm shocked, it's like they made me rise from the dead! Even my eyebags are gone, Mal! How'd they do that?" Heck yeah, your confidence was boosted. He offered his arm to you like a gentleman, making you half-heartedly roll your eyes (you took it anyway). From holding it alone, you could tell that your best friend was a sinewy man (well, you knew that already after seeing his tikbalang form before—the little shit didn't even wear a loincloth like all his clanmates; your poor eyes were eternally scarred).

You looked him up and down. You wouldn't lie—Maliksi is and always has been an attractive man. Now? With his hair in a ponytail (pun not intended), definitely one of the hunkiest men you've ever known. "You're not looking too bad yourself, horsey."

"Ako pa!" He puffed his chest out in pride. You chuckled at his reaction.

"By the way, how do you even know my dress size and my shoe size?"

"Babe, I've known you too long. You know almost everything about me, I know everything about you."

You snorted at his confident tone, "'Di nga? You don't know every single thing about me, Mal. Assuming ka masyado."

"Alam ko nga anong cup size mo. Wala lang 'yang shoe and dress size."

You slapped his shoulder, cheeks quickly flushing red, "Huy, umayos ka! Walang hiyang tikbalang na 'to." With this guy as your best friend? You heard dirty jokes at least once a day. "Don't be inappropriate here!"

"What? It's only fair I know!" He looked down on you suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You already know I always go commando, so of course I know that your bra is a size—"

"Shhh! Baka marinig ka, 'nyeta."

"So? Let them hear. My best friend has a nice set of melons!" he shouted. You were grateful there was no one around. Hopefully.

"Oh my God..."

Your best friend chortled at how flustered you'd become. He led you to where some of his family was waiting, with a couple of his relatives already greeting you. You instantly and quite easily mingled with them, your worries of them not accepting you far from even true (they all knew how much their prince loved the innocent you).

"Kayo na talaga, pare?" one of his older tikbalang clanmates asked while you went away to be fawned over by his aunts.

Maliksi chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched you from afar, "Heh. Hindi pa."

Another one of his clanmates—a younger one—laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "Talaga? That's cap, bro. You two are like a married couple already and you guys still aren't a thing?"

"Ilang taon na ba kayong magkakaibigan?" the older one asked him.

"Almost ten years," Maliksi responded, a smile unconsciously pulling his lips up as he remembered your moments together. He watched you converse with his female relatives (who adored you the moment Maliksi brought you to a family event many moons ago).

The two tikbalang snickered as they saw the look on the Great Stallion's heir.

"You're down bad," the younger one said, snapping a photo of his lovestruck kuya. "You've got it so bad for her, dudeparechong!"

"Balak mong ligawan anytime soon?" the older tikbalang inquired.

"Heh. Balak ko na ngang pakasalan. Kung pwede, ngayon."

They looked at Maliksi as if he was crazy. He was very much serious, though, even if there was a huge, lopsided smile on his face. The Prince of the Tikbalang raised a brow at them.

"What? Don't give me that look. Our ten years of being best friends is practically the courting and the dating stage already."

"Eh... you're right. Don't waste anymore time. Go and marry her today, dude. Suporta kami sa'yo, basta groomsmen kami sa kasal niyo, ha!"

"Ge. Without question."

Meanwhile, on your end with the ladies of the family, they started pestering you on your love life (like all typical Filipino aunties). Chismis everywhere.

"O, iha, single ka pa ba?"

"Kailan ka magpapakasal? Malapit ka nang pumasok sa thirties mo."

"Do you want kids? How many?"

"Are you and Maliksi a couple? You look good together! Kayo na, 'di ba?"

"Will you be getting married next? Are you engaged? When's the wedding? Invite niyo kami!"

Before you could get overwhelmed by their questions, Maliksi swept you off your feet to lead you to the entourage that was lining up outside the chapel area. Again, it happened like a blur. He laughed at the partially nauseated look on your face.

"You okay there?" he asked, grinning.

"Your family thinks we're together," you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes. You weren't sure why you felt... tingly about their statements.

He tilted his head at you curiously, gently setting you down on your feet and helping you stand.

"Do you hate the idea?" It hurt him to ask you the question, but he wanted your thoughts on it. Perhaps doing this was a bad idea. Maliksi was competitive in many things, including wanting you to be his, but if you were so opposed to it, he would never force you into something you didn't want. He let go of your hand; you didn't even notice he'd been holding it until he let go. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Your wide-eyed gaze snapped back to look up at him, "No! No, it's not that! And... it's not bad." Your hand felt strangely empty now that his was gone. Biting your lip, you disclosed, "You're not making me uncomfortable, Mal. Don't ever think that."

With that, you shyly interlocked your arm with his, tearing your eyes from his to mask the growing warmth you felt spreading in your veins. You two didn't say anything else when the ushers let you walk down the beautiful, petal-covered aisle together.

The man beside you was starstruck. Hopeful. Maybe both of you did have a chance. Maybe somewhere in the depths of your soul, his feelings for you were being reciprocated. For the rest of the sacred ceremony in the gorgeous main pavilion, both of you relished in short, comfortable, and low conversations. He even cracked jokes every once in a while—really funny ones that made it challenging for you to you stifle your laughter.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Maliksi fervently prayed to Bathala that he'd experience the same opportunity he was seeing with you someday. One day.

Even while the sun was brightly out, the sky began showering down light rain onto the land. You were in awe as you looked out the window.

"Hala, totoo nga pala! Tignan mo!" you laughed, tugging Maliksi's suit sleeve, pointing at the window.

"Na ano?" he curiously inquired, not understanding what you were referring to.

"Na kapag may tikbalang na kinakasal, umuulan habang may araw pa," you replied, eyes filled with childlike mirth and wonder. A rainbow had even begun to form by the clouds. "Look, it's magical! Ang ganda pala ng view dito kasama ang old Spanish architecture. Timeless na timeless. It's so pretty, 'no? Picture tayo 'maya, Mal."

Unlike you, it wasn't the sky outside that the prince was looking at. Amidst the loud cheers for the newlywed couple and the bubbles the guests were blowing, his vision could only focus on how magnificent you looked while being amazed. You were his best view. (Ed from 90-Day Fiancé, kabahan ka na, may katapat ka sa pickup line mo.)

》》》

"Smile for the picture!"

You giggled as Maliksi was dragged into a photo-op with the bridesmaids and the important older wedding sponsors a few feet away (funnily, he looked a little constipated around them). All of a sudden, when he was heading back to your direction, you were roughly pushed into the said man's arms. When you turned around, there was nothing (except maybe a gust of wind that came out of nowhere).

"Ooh, gotcha. Careful," the tikbalang steadied you, strong hands holding your biceps. "Natapilok ka?"

"... Huh, hindi naman," you wondered suspiciously, looking around. "I think someone pushed me? Parang tinulak ako... but wala namang tao."

"Weird. Maybe it was just the wind."

It actually was. Really. Maliksi knew for a fact that it was those two taong hangin who were spying on you from the corner, trying to pair you up. He gave them a thumbs-up while your back was turned in the opposite direction. Hannah and Amie returned the thumbs-up before vanishing. Suddenly, the two wedding photographers had moved on from the bridesmaids and were right beside you.

"What a lovely couple you two are!" she praised. Before you could correct her, she held up the black contraption she held towards you two. "Pose for the camera, lovelies!"

And so you did, the photographer guiding you two on what to do. Maliksi wrapped his arm around your waist and you leaned on his side, looking sidewards to the camera with one leg cocked in front of the other. Her assistant, who was holding a polaroid camera, printed out two photos for you.

"Thank you," you told him, taking the photos from his hands then flicking them rapidly to make the images develop. You and Mal were about to walk to the reception area when the photographer stopped you, handing the male beside you a business card.

"If you two need a photographer or a videographer for your wedding, call me," she signaled to both of you before running to another guest, bringing her assistant with her.

You gawked, "Mal, did you just hear what she said?"

"Loud and clear." A grin was on his face. He seemed very pleased at what he heard.

"... How can she even tell if someone is married or not?"

Maliksi's free hand took your left hand, tapping the ring finger, "Nothing here."

"Ooooooh. I get it now." Your brows creased. "Huh. This is like the fifth time today the people here have mistaken us for a couple."

Maliksi shrugged, teasing you, "Who knows? Baka may potential tayo, babe."

Before you could ask him what he meant, he was hurriedly towing you to the reception venue. While he was doing that, you stared at the now-developed polaroid photos you were holding. Huh. Maybe you two did look like a couple.

"Come on, they're serving some snacks at the welcome reception area. Peach pie and mango float-flavored. Paborito mo, babe."

》》》

The rest of the night went by without a hitch. You were actually enjoying the event—the host was great, the food was great, the music was great. Everything was great... that was, until the games.

"Alright! Now that the bride's garter has been removed, let's have the bouquet and garter toss... starting with the females!" the host announced. "Dear bride, please stay here in front. And all single ladies—and by single I mean ready to mingle and are not married—please rise and stand here on the dance floor. Let's play matchmaker tonight, everyone!"

"Uy, single ladies daw," Maliksi nudged your side. "Sign mo na 'yan." You snorted like a pig.

"Nope, ayokong madamay sa bouquet toss," you whisper-yelled at your best friend. "Do you know how embarrassing that is?! Besides, they won't notice if I don't join! Special tactic ko 'yan sa weddings: pretending I'm not single. Katabi naman kita."

More women came to the front, making you feel assured that you didn't need to participate. The host was about to say something, when the bride interrupted to whisper something into his ear.

"Hala, halaaa! Sabi ko all single ladies, pero may isang single lady na nagtatago pa!" he announced, making you freeze. Please don't let it be you. "What's her name, beloved bride?"

"Y/N L/N." You nearly spat out your champagne. You? Did they just call out your name? How did they know?

"Oh fuck," you cursed quietly.

"'Di ka makakatakas dito, babe," Maliksi jabbed, making you stand up. "Tinatawag ka na."

"Baka may ibang Y/N L/N dito," you resisted, attempting to sit back down. "I can't do this, Mal."

"'Sus, ikaw pa. And it's just a symbolic ceremony!" he encouraged, as if he didn't have any underlying intentions. "I doubt the bouquet will go to you anyway."

Sheesh, what a big fat liar you are, tikbalang prince.

You expressed your dissatisfaction with the situation, "Bwiset, fine. I'll just... dodge it. Or evade it. God, I swear..." You calmed down, confident. "I'm not going to worry. I've never caught the bouquet at my own friends' weddings anyway."

When you were at the dance floor, Maliksi snickered, seeing the bride—his cousin—wink at him. After all, he had thoroughly bribed her earlier.

《《《

"It's about time you settled down with someone, Mal," the bride commented while he slipped her the newest Hermés designer bag filled with a bunch of jewelry (plus some bills) two hours ago, right before the reception began and while you were in the restroom freshening up. "Hehehe, this is why you're my favorite cousin."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Of course. I'll make sure she participates. I'll also try to throw it in her direction."

"Good. Thanks."

"You better invite me to your beach wedding. I can tell how much you love her."

"Not a problem. I'll even make you a sponsor."

The bride stared at her bouquet, already practicing how she was going to throw it, "Tito's going to thank me so much for ensuring that he's going to get grandkids soon, hihi."

》》》

Back to the present, on the other end of the room, Maliksi saw a familiar duo give him a sign that they were ready. Bingo. Time to execute the most important part of his plan.

《《《

"I don't care how you do it," he told the two wind elementals after he bribed the bride. "I've already instructed the bride on what she should do, pero siguraduhin niyo lang talagang lumipad sa kanya ang bouquet."

"Mmhmm," Amie flipped her hair, a hand on her cocked hip. "And what do we get in return, oh great Señorito Armanaz?"

"Sagot ko bar-hopping niyo for one month."

The two girls pretended to think about it, making Maliksi roll his eyes. He had to pull out the big guns, huh?

"Fine. Magbibigay ako ng cash deposit plus pwede niyong gamitin ang black card ko for a one-week shopping spree in Ortigas." There. Bullseye. That's what they liked.

"Deal!" they exclaimed excitedly.

Hannah let a cool gust of wind enter one of the nearby windows, testing out how they're going to do this. "Ano pa bang pinaplano mo for Y/N mamaya?"

Maliksi hummed, "Basta."

》》》

You tried your best to hide within the densest part of the group of women. The bride seemed to have her eyes on you, weirdly enough, and she looked almost feral wanting to throw her flowers into someone's face.

That someone being you. Most likely.

"Target locked on," you saw her mouth move. She positioned herself like she was about to throw a football at someone (ahem, you). Holy shit, was she talking to you? Miss ma'am, it was a bouquet toss not a bouquet throw. The bride seemed to notice this, and once more regained her elegant composure.

"3, 2, 1," the host counted down. "Go!"

Surprisingly, the bouquet flew very high into the air (it was a wonder it didn't get tangled in the ceiling decor), but quite a distance away from you. You grinned, knowing it was too far to even touch you. Squeezing through the crowd of women eagerly awaiting the bouquet, you went to return to your assigned table.

Ah, what a wonderful evening.

Sike!

Something painfully landed right into your face, leaves and flowers getting into your hair and mouth.

... Wait, leaves and flowers?

Before you could comprehend it, the bouquet dropped right into your arms. What kind of ungodly, inhuman force allowed this to even happen?

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our lucky girl for the night!" Everyone clapped, with some—those guests you knew—even cheering your name unbelievably loud. The host approached you, a glint in his eye which you couldn't understand. "Miss Y/N, kindly sit here while we await the lucky guy who catches the garter from the groom."

What just happened?

"All single gentlemen, please proceed to the dance floor. Remember, the man who gets the garter gets to slip it onto the lucky lady's leg later!"

Oh, God. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What you'd give to be back at home or to be in that resort in Batangas you'd planned on going to for a solo vacation.

"To make this even more exciting," the host stated, handing you a black blindfold. "Our lucky lady has to keep her eyes closed until her lucky man for the night captures the bride's garter! When the music plays, only then can she uncover her eyes."

See? Humiliating, just as you expected. Still, you wrapped the blindfold around your head (albeit hesitantly). You attempted to guess who it might be, thinking of all the tikbalang friends Maliksi had introduced to you back then whenever he invited you to his clan reunions.

"Groom, are you ready?" the host asked, microphone loud and clear.

"Ready na ready!"

"Single gentlemen, are you ready?!"

"Ready na ready! Awoo, awoo!" they loudly chorused, exactly mimicking Spartans about to engage in battle. You sweatdropped in the seat you were in. This was actually kind of scary. Maybe you felt a bit objectified.

"3, 2, 1, go!"

There was a brief moment of silence, which made you concerned. Ba't ang tahimik? Then, everyone erupted into roars and bravoes much louder than when you caught the bouquet—perhaps even louder by tenfold. What the heck was happening?!

The music played. Very raunchy, spicy, babymaking music. You expected it to be the typical Careless Whisper by George Michael or Pony by Ginuwine (corny songs which you could probably laugh at, at least), but no. Nuh-uh, this was probably worse. The DJ must be pretty young, the song of their choosing being a slowed, bass-boosted, sexier remix of Earned It by the Weeknd.

Ano 'to, bold? Fifty Shades of Grey? The hell was this?

Alright. This was embarrassing. Thank the heavens there were no children at this party. From the music alone and its implications, this was strictly for adults.

You removed your blindfold (that was okay now, right?) as the guests whistled playfully. You peeked one eye open reluctantly, then inwardly groaned. Oh, no. You should've expected it to be him of all people from how loud the reactions were. And all those yells from the crowd were from his family.

Son of a—

"Well, this has proven to be a very interesting arrangement!" the host proclaimed. "Our lucky man for tonight is none other than our great clan leader's heir, Maliksi Armanaz! Congratulations, sir! You get to slip the lacey little garter on Miss Y/N!"

The said very smug tikbalang stood a few feet away from the chair you were sitting on, smirking at you. His hair was no longer in that mesmerizing ponytail—instead, he'd tied it into a more sinfully attractive man-bun, loose strands framing his face and accentuating that sharp, angled jaw of his (say yes and thank you to Manny Jacinto's jawline, besties).

"Let's cheer him on in his new mission, everybody!" the host pushed. Was this that glint in his eye earlier? And was that a one thousand peso bill sticking out of his pocket?

The groomsmen, Mal's cousins and uncles whom you've met before, hollered words of encouragement to the tall man (who was, oddly enough, not one bit fazed). In fact, Maliksi seemed like he was famished as he stared you down.

You swallowed, feeling like you were going to get eaten (heh, say that again). Maliksi had shrugged off his dark suit blazer to the beat of the song (holy fuck, he also unclasped the suspenders attached to his pants right before your eyes—asdfghjkl). Were you prepared for this? No. Will you ever be prepared? No!

"Mr. Armanaz, before you begin," the host interrupted. "We have an additional challenge for you in this mission. Kaya mo ba? It was a request of the newlywed couple."

"What is it?"

"Use your teeth!" the bride and the groom cheerfully shouted, clapping with the other guests. Whatdidtheysaaaaay???

The cocky bastard didn't even hesitate, his smirk at you growing wider; those pearly whites of his on full display. Was it just you or were his canines a little sharper than usual?

"Anything for the newlyweds. Challenge accepted," he dashingly replied, winking at you. You sputtered indignantly. Pisteng yawa. Putangina. Putek. Pakshet. You swore you thought of every swear word in the book at that moment. What did that YouTube parody song about Filipino mythological creatures say again? About the tikbalang? Ah, yes. Half-macho dancer and half-stallion. Maybe the joke was true, especially when you saw what Maliksi did next.

He bit the shred of lace, loosening his necktie (bestie, you good there?), unbuttoning some top buttons, and rolling up the sleeves of his collared white undershirt up to his elbows (consequently showing off his toned, veiny forearms—those lucky bridesmaids behind him nearly fainted). Honestly, you felt like you were about to lose your mind from embarrassment. With how tantalizing your guy best friend was being? Let our response be: San Pedro, kunin mo na ako. Was he doing all this to tease you? To rile you up?

Because damn it all, it was working. In your ten years of knowing Maliksi Armanaz, withstanding all his daily dirty jokes and flirtatious attempts, never had you seen him like this. So... wolfish. Ravenous. Like he was a man that hadn't been fed in years.

He stalked closer towards you, falling to his knees in front of your legs. Your gown had a long slit that extended up to an inch or two below where your left leg began—your best friend was eyeing his target already, knowing where to place the garter. Normally, you would never even wear something as revealing as this gown. It just wasn't your type, but Maliksi was the one who bought this for you for this specific occasion, so you had no choice. It was this or your pantulog he stole you in just hours ago. At first, you were confident in the gown. Now? You felt too... naked.

Somehow, in the heat of it all, you'd muted out the noise of the venue. Maliksi teasingly lifted your foot up, fingertips slyly grazing the thin shoe straps around your left foot—his calculated touch leaving fire in its trail. Once the garter had been successfuly inserted past your high-heeled stilettos, the man kneeling in front of you kept his hands to himself. Despite the fact that now there was absolutely zero skin-to-skin contact between you and this man, your body felt hotter than it ever was before as he expertly slid the lacy bit of cloth up your ankle at an agonizingly slow pace.

Maliksi's warm eyes had turned dark, his pupils blown, a tinge of red in them—of his true beast—while he maintained striking eye contact with you, pulling the garter up your calf with his teeth. Smoothly tugging... tugging... tugging. Tangina, it was like he was undressing you with his eyes alone; like he was telepathically telling you to keep your eyes open.

To keep your eyes on him, where he was knelt inbetween your legs, his hands intentionally locked on his back. Did you ever imagine this? Him between your legs? Maybe. Once or twice. But you never thought about it seriously; Maliksi dated girls left and right in the past.

His lips... his lips were so close... so close to your leg that you could feel the heat of his breath along with the lace. Were you about to die? Perhaps you already did. Maybe you were in heaven. Up... up... up... snap!

Suddenly, he stopped, grinning up at you mischievously and letting the elastic bounce back to the skin of your left knee.

"I'm not going any further, don't worry, babe," he whispered, noting that your eyes had become misty and glazed over. Internally, he grew worried. "That's enough." Did he think it was from discomfort? From you being uncomfortable? Bitch, no. It was the exact opposite. You had never been this turned on in your entire life.

You felt like your soul had left your body at that moment. Did you just have a heart attack? Was your blood pressure okay? Before you or Maliksi could stand, however, someone bellowed from the wedding sponsor tables.

"Higher! That's an order!"

Fucking hell, it was Maliksi's father who shouted. He wasn't in the huge tikbalang form you'd normally meet him in, but he was still very intimidating in his humanoid form, commanding attention and subservience wherever he went. You could tell where Maliksi got it from.

Instantly, the other guests—already half-drunk and wanting the spirit of partying to continue on—joined in.

"Higher! Higher!"

The host cheered, "You heard Señor Armanaz! Higher!"

Maliksi gave you a questioning look. Even if it was his father who spoke up, he still wouldn't do anything you didn't want. Well, you two made it this far; there was no point in getting embarrassed now. You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding. You probably couldn't erase the redness on your skin with how much you'd blushed from this night. It was as if the heat was tattooed onto your skin.

"Go on, Mal," you whispered to him, bending your torso down closer to his face, eyes half-lidded from want. "Finish what you started, babe."

With those sultry bedroom eyes he'd never once seen you show him before—plus you turning the tables with that familiar term of endearment, how could he refuse? Like a switch had been flipped inside him, he immediately complied, taking the frilly scrap of stretchy lace between his teeth once more, moving it further up to your thighs until where your high slit ended—centimeters below the warming juncture between your legs.

Your legs felt wobbly... boneless, as you stood up from the chair, the fabric of your gown cascading over where the lace sat securely on your upper left thigh. The party was still going strong even after you two finished the garter wearing tradition.

"'Atta boy! That's my son!" Señor Armanaz blazoned, standing up and raising his glass for a toast. "Cheers to the newlywed couple! May they last forever!"

You guys weren't the newlyweds, but it did sure feel like it. If the clan leader was hyped up, everyone was hyped up. Heck, the groom and the bride didn't mind one bit what had just transpired on their dance floor. In all the chaos, Maliksi took you out of the reception area and somewhere quieter. More private.

You would need to have a serious, urgent talk with your boy best friend.

》》》

You two silently sat on a stone bench in a gazebo somewhere in the reserved venue for the wedding, trying to cool down and get yourselves back together (at this point, you needed ice from that steamy, half-scandalous event you just went through). Here, there was no one else except for the chirping of crickets, the lush trees surrounding the area, and the golden fairy lights strewn all over the roof. Awkwardness was something you'd expected after what just happened, but somehow, you still felt comfort in this man's presence. For the past thirty minutes, both of you just stayed still, lost in your thoughts and reflecting.

"Mal?" you finally spoke up.

"... Hmm?"

"Ano tayo?"

"Whatever you want us to be."

Your fingers instinctively reached out for his, just like they always did when you were anxious. Sensing this, he grasped your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Soothingly. He massaged the skin of your fingers, distracting you from your nervousness. It seemed like both nothing and everything changed between both of you. The gesture was the same, but so different at the same time.

"Mahal mo ako." It was not a question. It was a statement. A truth—one that you'd been too blind to see before. One that you only discovered while you stared into each other's eyes in that party not as best friends. You realized with a jolt in your heart what he really felt for you, and now, what you really felt for him. In those thirty minutes of silence, you knew. You just knew.

"Yes. I do."

"... Just as a best friend?" you probed.

"..."

Finally, you gazed into his eyes, previously so dark and full of hunger. Now? Just reluctant. Vulnerable. Open. Unsure of what to do next.

Seems like you had to be the one to take initiative tonight. Taking out your phone, you opened your music app and pressed play on a certain song. Ikaw at Ako by Johnoy Danao. You removed your heels (which were starting to blister your ankles and toes), then pulled him up to stand.

"Dance with me," you murmured, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist. He was stiff. Tense. What was he to do when the woman he's been pining after for so long let him hold her? All his gallantry and ability to romance disappeared out the window the moment you let him touch you so intimately.

You two weren't even waltzing. Just swaying. Slowly, you leaned your head on his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"... I love you," Maliksi admitted in the middle of it all, feeling like he was dreaming. Your head on his chest kept him grounded to reality, however. "More than anything in the universe. I fell for you ever since you patched me up when you were nineteen and I was a reckless drag racer who didn't have a purpose in life. 'Nung dinala mo ako pabalik sa Armanaz Tower on the verge of death. Simula noon, ikaw lang."

"I realized that," you smiled, reminiscing the old memory. You were just a broke college student that time, coming back to your dorm from making your group thesis at a classmate's house. Imagine your panic when you found a half-man, half-horse bleeding out by some bushes on the way home at night. Despite your fear and your little money (only enough to feed you for the week), you went out of your way to buy a first-aid kit at the nearest 7/11. It was scary, but you managed to mend the creature's wounds by the side of the road. When he was finally able to speak, turning fully human (which you admit, freaked you out initially), you arduously carried him back to his address—to his father and his clan, even if you had classes the very next morning. Because of your heroic deed of saving their precious heir, the tikbalang clan had become indebted to you: a teenage girl on the verge of a mental academic breakdown, just making her way through the cruel adult world. How old of a memory that was, you thought, yet you still recalled it in perfect detail. "Just a while ago."

"Ah." He swayed you gently.

"Lahat ng ito, plano mo?"

"... Yes," Maliksi fessed up. "Except for this part where we're here dancing in this belvedere. Wala sa plano ko. Gusto ko sanang magconfess doon sa may fountain para sweet, pero..."

You lifted your head off his chest, smiling at him with one brow raised, "You know, between both of us, you're supposed to be the spontaneous one. Planning isn't usually your thing."

"I know. It's a failure, huh?" Maliksi sighed.

"Nah." You shook your head, then suddenly locked lips with him. It was so fast and surprising he didn't even get the chance to return your first kiss. For once, you caught him off guard. You pecked him on the lips again. "It's not a failure."

"Wha—"

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Maliksi. Ten years. We're twenty-nine now, and only tonight do I realize how blind I've been. We've been going around in circles, wasting so much time. Ayoko nang mag-aksaya ng oras," you whispered guiltily against his lips. How could you have been so blind? Andaming nasayang na taon. Making up your mind, you told him, "Yes. Sige, I accept. I'll be your plus one."

The tikbalang was flustered and baffled from the kiss, as well as your revelation, "... But, you already are?"

"No, silly. I meant that I'll be your plus one for life. For as long as you'll have me," you laughed, now processing that you were currently dancing barefoot with your boy best friend and had just kissed him in a wedding you didn't even plan on going to. The universe had a mysterious way of doing things. "Guess I'm the spontaneous one now, huh?"

Maliksi was tongue-tied. "Seryoso ka ba? Is... Is this a marriage proposal?"

"Whatever you want it to be," you echoed his words back to him. "Best friend, plus one, girlfriend, wife—mmpf!"

He kissed you so hard your lips bruised. After an impromptu makeout session which was definitely more in character for Maliksi, you both pulled away, panting heavily in search for air, still desperate for passion. He cupped your cheeks, giving you a sweet, featherlight Eskimo kiss.

"You're missing one more title."

"Hm? What do you mean, Mal?"

"Love of my life." He kissed you again, this time lifting you off your feet and spinning you around (his sneaky right hand was resting on your bum, too, giving it a tight squeeze). You know in the Princess Diaries where the main character's foot just... pops whenever the prince charming kissed her? Yeah, that happened to you on that humid summer night. This was right. You two were meant to be together. Everything was falling into place.

The bungalow you reserved for your Batangas vacation leave ended up being the site of your very eventful honeymoon with the Prince of the Tikbalang (with his libido, it wasn't that difficult to continue where you'd left off in the garter toss; that scrap of lace came off your leg the same way it went on). Actually, nauna pa ang honeymoon sa actual wedding (it was definitely spontaneous). Right after your confession in that alcove, you two went to Maliksi's father to ask for his blessing (which he gladly gave, cackling and saying that it took you long enough) before you guys went driving off to Batangas that night. You and Mal indeed had lots and lots of fun in that resort (I'll let you imagine the rest). More beautiful memories were made from that point on—this time, not just as best friends.

All that and your small, intimate wedding occurred in early April. Just when you thought that it'd be impossible to fulfill Maliksi's life goal of having a baby within the year (nine months of pregnancy meant that the earliest you'd give birth would be January next year), the impossible happened.

Exactly thirty-two weeks later, on New Year's Eve, the Armanaz herd welcomed one prince and two new princesses into the world. Triplets who were instantly adored by everyone in the clan.

Señor Armanaz had never been happier, and so were you and your husband. Your best friend. The love of your life. Your forever plus one.

Maybe being spontaneous wasn't so bad after all.

Taglist: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @methehipster @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie

[eligaxy]

Wind

☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Venti x gn!Reader

☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : near death experience, you’re confused asf about everything, bad writing cause i suck, spoilers for the we will be reunited quest!! And also for venti’s backstory, venti is serious for once (yes it’s a legitimate warning🤚)

☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Some angst, some fluff? Idk bye🤨

☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : "It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask." (2.8k words)

♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : i’m an idiot simp, i did this in one sitting and half asleep, english isnt my first language BLA BLA IM SORRY FOR MY POOR WRITING BUT HAVE THIS

basically you don’t know if you can trust venti or not, head says no, heart screams yes

Also, I was listening to stormterror’s lair ost while writing it, just because its fucking amazing, you might wanna listen to it too

I’m nervous to post this?/&:! This is the second fic i’ve ever finished in my whole life

i love venti and he’s hot in his god outfit i don’t make the rules

KAY ENJOY <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

Saying you were exhausted would have been an understatement. After reuniting with your sibling, you had been frantically searching for clues about khaenri'ah and ways to Inazuma. With no luck, you couldn't find any traces of Dainsleif or of your twin. The ruins had been sealed and you had no idea what happened to the inverted statue or the corpse you had found there. Desperately, you clung into every little information you had, you would have turned every rock on this archon damned continent if you had to, which is what led you into those ruins near Guilli plains.

Walking along the destroyed buildings your eyes caught sight of a dandelion and you froze. You missed them so much, why couldn't they go back home with you? All you ever wanted was to be by their side why, why were they running away from you?

You remembered your travels, the moments you shared together, their protectiveness over you, the fondness in their eyes when you smiled at them. You remember the times you got hurt and healed one another with your now missing powers. You remember sleeping by their side and being grateful to the universe to let you keep your ray of sunshine everywhere with you. How ironic.

What had they meant 'once you reach the end of your journey' ? What does that even mean? Stupid twin, if they knew you were here the whole time, why hadn't they come to you? Why were they always leaving just when they were within your grasp? Why? Did they know how much you missed them and how much your heart broke when you finally saw them? Did they?

You only realized you were crying when a small gust of wind had your wet cheek react to the cold, breaking your train of thought. Wind.

The wind is everywhere, you think, free as a bird, always accompanying every citizen of this world, never truly alone. With this in mind, you resumed your exploring, slower this time.

A sigh escaped your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but the wind did comfort you a little. Almost as if he was here. God of freedom and of the breeze, he was more a singer than a protector and you couldn't bear to think about him. Was it true? What Dain said... Did he destroy this nation? Was he the cause of the scenery that still haunted your nightmares up until 500 years later? Your brain simply couldn't accept that Venti, your Venti, you catch yourself thinking, could have made such an act of wrath. He was the epitome of freedom, why would he take the very thing he based all of his existence on from mere mortals? Barbatos simply couldn't be afraid of being overpowered, he didn't even care about power. All he wanted was freedom and happiness for his people. Surley this couldn't be right?

But then again, who were you to deny the wipe out of an entire nation? The gods did it. They were afraid that Celestia would be overthrown by the pride of humankind, the destruction of khaenri'ah by divine beings was a fact. There was no misunderstanding about this. That was the one thing you were sure of. So why did you feel like crying even more now?

The mere thought of a gentle soul such as Venti committing innocent people to an eternity of suffering didn't sit right with you. Even when his dearest friend Dvalin had turned against him, he didn't try to stop him, didn't even ask the dragon to save him. He healed and helped him, gave him a choice.

'What is freedom if demanded of you by a god?' was the same person that asked this question the same one who committed mass murder? Genocide?

Did the little wine-lover bard you had grown fond of destroy all hopes and light your kin had?

You remember that night when he freed Stanley from his burden, freed his and his friends' spirits. You had marveled at his action, in that instant he was a god, and he definitely hadn't struck you as a murderer. You remember that look of silent pain and grief in his eyes when he sang the tales of the nameless bard he had taken the appearance of. You knew he trusted you enough to share his story, something so personal, you could almost feel the war that took down the tyrant of Mond. Oh how much you cherished that evening, treating him to some well deserved dandelion wine afterwards, his favorite, and asking him to sing you more about the time where was nothing but the spirit of a breeze.

Your heart broke a little, remembering his rosy cheeks and drunk smile, you wish you could talk to him, ask him what happened. What did he do, was he really as dangerous as you had been told? If so, then why did you feel so good around him? Why did you feel like you could give hi-

You stopped walking upon seeing a ruin guard up ahead in the distance. You're so stupid, you think. Feeling this way is not gonna get you anywhere, especially with how the bard had been missing for a few weeks now. Ever since you had last seen your sibling.

Where was he, where was he wandering off to? You walk towards the disabled ruin guard, not really paying any mind to it, still thinking about the god you longed to meet with. If you could see him, what would you even say? Would he even answer your questions? Why did your stomach feel so light and funny when you thought about seeing him, why aren't you angrier?

You're almost at the killing machine's level now, so lost in your thought you don't notice the five other similar robots hidden behind a wall next to it. You notice them only when it's too late and you've already turned them on while thinking about examining them and collecting their serial numbers. When you hear the familiar tick of the mechanism turning on, you internally panic and think about running away only to calm down moments later and think to yourself that you can simply beat it and take what you came here for. Even if you are emotionally and physically tired, you can manage, you think.

That was before hearing five other consecutive ticks right after it, and all around you.

Turning around, your gaze falls upon the small army of field tillers. Fuck.

Paimon wasn't with you today, you had asked for some time alone which she hesitantly accepted, so you couldn't ask her to go fetch help. You would have been worried if you had all your capacities but with the state you were in, you were wondering how you were going to survive this fight. You were alone, none of your companions with you, and deeply weakened by the busy day you had and the few hours of sleep you had managed to steal away from the night. Was it today you would meet your doom, with all your questions and uncertainties unanswered?

You tried your best to fight with the strength you had left, but quickly grew desperate after what felt like hours of efforts to swing your blade and being able to only take one monster down out of the six. It didn't help that you got injured along the way, their blows becoming harder and harder to dodge. After being thrown on the grown for the third time, you understood you had at least two broken ribs and that your shaking legs would soon fail you as well.

Fear crept upon you, you would die here today, alone. Alone. You couldn't talk to your sibling after all, couldn't understand. You didn't even get to talk to him one last time. Him... You would die without the knowledge of the truth about your bard. You would die alone. You didn't want that, you couldn't look death straight in the eye.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

In Mondstadt, there was a musician, a weird singer everyone had heard about at least once. He lived off of his songs and was mostly known for having a great story-telling and being an alcoholic.

The number of people who knew the true nature of his identity were few and he was perfectly content with that. He didn't wish to be a god anymore, his gnosis had been taken away anyway and it's not like he had any power over the city of wind nowadays. Even if his people still worshipped him as Barbatos, it didn't sit right with him to be called a god anymore. It actually never did, he thinks to himself with a smile, he never really took any responsibilities that came with the divine title which is why he was so weak today. But it didn't matter to him, his smile turns into a soft giggle.

Sitting on a mill that was once born from his steps he looks fondly over the city he founded. Even if they were godless, the citizens were still thriving and free. He cared oh so very deeply about the place even if he rarely, if not never, showed the affection within his heart. He remembers the day he grew strong enough to dispel the storms over his actual Mondstadt, and made the weather gentle enough so that there was no need for fireplaces. Nowadays, he loves watching birds nest into the chimney tops and seeing them found their own home. It gave him a sense of belonging like no other, not above his people, but walking among them and watching them nest into this cocoon he created. He was proud of what happened to his land and would do it all over again if he had to.

Especially since it led to him meeting you. This thought doesn't catch him off guard, you often roamed around in his mind after all, and it's not like he didn't write at least three songs about you and your feat, your smile, your courage...

Ah there he goes again, rambling about you in a whisper. He turns around to the statue of him his people erected in his honor, chuckling at how they never made the connection with his signature braids. His, but not really his, since he had stolen this form from someone who was much more deserving of this power than him. Seeing his friend being honored with the statues of the seven around the land made him happy, he hoped that it was a good enough thank you gift in return for everything that the bard whom he couldn't even remember the name of anymore did for him.

Upon gazing at the statue, he remembered telling you of his long gone friend. It was the first time he had talked about him to someone else, he didn't even mention it to Venessa, she who made him believe in himself again. He could ask himself why, but he simply knew that you had something different, more than meets the eye. Perhaps it was because you weren't from Teyvat, or perhaps it was just you being as simple as your natural self but he was simply and utterly captivated by your being. You inspired him to no end, at first he thought it was because he had never met someone like you and he loved new things! But as time grew and he got to know you, he understood quickly the meaning and depth of his passions. He thought of it with a light chuckle, content with your presence alone. He really did need and want you around.

So why did he purposely avoid you like the plague?

The wind had brought to his ears that you had met with Dainsleif.

And your twin.

His first reaction was to search for you, talk to you, he wanted to be here to know what happened! You had searched so long, he couldn't contain himself, still listening to what the wind told him, he started running with excitement but... But wait, Dainsleif was... He told you what?

Oh.

So you heard about Khaenri'ah. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned back, only sending a warm current of wind your way, hugging you from afar.

He wasn't ready to talk about this yet, not ready to face you and absolutely not ready to answer your questions. He was a coward, he thought, running away like that but what else could he do, really. It was only natural for him to be as uncatchable as air.

A sorry excuse to avoid the fact that even if his past had marvelous story like the one of the nameless bard, it also had its share of darkness, something he wasn't ready to dive back into. Especially not now when your arrival has been shaking this world up like it hasn't been since at least 500 years.

But oh, how he longed to see your face or to hear your voice. So he asked a breeze to report to him what you were up to, and where you were. Just in case! he tells himself, what if you needed help ehe? But he knows you're competent and you won't need the help of a weakling coward like him anytime soon. Or so he thought.

Because when the breeze only gives him a few words back, his blood runs cold.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

As you murmured these words in your desperate state, not really for anyone but yourself as a last resort, a prayer of some sort, you tried to stand by leaning yourself on your sword and failing miserably. You didn't dare look up as you heard the loud footsteps of the metal giants coming your way. It was over, and you barely managed to accept it.

As you rested your forehead against the cold handle of your sword, you closed your eyes, tears starting to make their ways out of your closed eyelids. All you could feel was remorse.

A soft breeze moved your hair slightly and your chest felt like a black hole had taken place where your heart used to be, regretting to not have been able to meet him under the tree at Windrise one last time.

The breeze quickly grew stronger, until it felt unnatural and you looked up from the ground, only to close your eyes again immediately when you realized the wind was too powerful for you to keep them open. If you had struggled to see though, you would have been blinded by the white light that soon illuminated the whole ruins. You didn't have enough time to register the situation when you felt a hand being laid atop your shoulder, snaking around your collarbones and pulling you back into... nothing? Another arm circled your weak form and a voice you immediately recognized said

"I've dealt with things worse than you, now crumble."

You realized that if you couldn't feel a chest behind you while still being embraced by his arms, it was because he was floating above you, and not standing behind you. A look in his direction confirmed your suspicions but what stunned you wasn't the fact that he was flying, but the attire he wore. Barely covering his body, a white set made of materials that seemed like clouds and liquid gold contrasted perfectly with his regular green clothes. His hair was glowing green and his eyes that were focused on the ruin guards up ahead had a marvelous shine that you had never seen before. He had that same aura he did the night he freed Stanley, but there was also something different about the way his hands gripped you a little too tightly or the way his voice sounded.

"Venti.." You muttered his name, relief and affection flooding you all at once, in his presence you felt as if nothing bad could happen to you. How foolish could you be, just a few hours ago you were speculating wether or not he had wiped out an entire civilisation and now here you were, being saved by him and feeling safer than you had in months.

"Close your eyes, I don't want give you a headache" he said, slowly floating legs first towards the ground. His unusually serious voice surprised you (and him) but you did as he told you. Letting go of your sword and leaning back into him, you let him deal with the monsters ahead of you.

"It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask."

Being protected by a god really didn't feel that bad. Especially when you were in love with said god.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Thank you so much for reading whatever this is until the end :’)

Don’t hesitate to comment or reblog, tysm <3

Ps: venti loves u and so do i do pls take care of urself mwah

[accio-jungkookie]

shine on anyway - spider-man x reader (ch. 3)

A/N: hello hello to everyone who sees this! this is chapter 3 in my fic! I know I've been gone for forever (!), but life happens. I had a lot of medical issues in the past year and a half, plus college and life, so its been rough. i'm recently rediscovering my love of writing, so bear with me as I get back into the groove of things! I have up to chapter 8 written already, so I'll be posting those as I go through and edit and revise them, so expect them all within the coming weeks! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: A kid from Milwaukee has to grow up far more quickly than she should while facing threats that men half her age would never dare go near. So, when she has to uproot after losing everything, does she lose herself too?

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and depression, swearing, minor character death, blood and injuries, fighting, mentions of bullying, again I will add more if I think I missed any! :)

last - three - next

You woke up the next morning to the sound of shoes scuffing against the floor, meaning your grandparents were awake and getting ready for their days. They were retired, sure, but they were always out of the house trying to keep moving. Old age never limited them in the slightest. Besides, they weren’t old for being grandparents, since your mother had you young. They were only in their early 50’s.

“Age only catches up to you only if you let it” your grandmother once said, and it was sweet. Your grandparents lived up to it, too, always moving about. So, you got up and went up the stairs to the kitchen as you rubbed your eyes sleepily.

“Morning, Bug. How’d you sleep, sweetie?” Your grandma asked, a smile on her kind face, softened with time. She walked over to where you stood against the counter and kissed your cheek, patting it afterwards as she moved to get water.

“Pretty good. Slept like a baby, I think.” You mumbled with a smile, walking over to your grandpa. “Morning, Papa. How’d you sleep?” You asked him with a hug, smiling when he stopped what he was doing to hug you back.

“Really good, Buggie. Thank you.” He mumbled back, a smile on his face as you both separated and kept getting ready for the day ahead.

“So where are you guys going today? Nana?” You asked as you grabbed a cup to get water for yourself. You turned to face them as they leisurely moved around the kitchen to get ready. You smiled at how calm it was. How normal this was now. It had been four years since your mom had passed, and it was finally starting to not hurt so badly when you woke up in the mornings.

“To an antique mall in northern Illinois. Your Papa is very excited for this one.” Your grandma snickered as you laughed, knowing he always hated being forced to drive your grandma for hours to a place he barely enjoyed. Of course, he likes spending time with your Nana, but there were other things to do, too. And they usually required less driving.

“So excited.” Your Papa deadpanned before laughing afterwards.

“What about you, Bug? Any plans? A hot date?” Your grandma jokes, and you laughed when your grandpa turned his head to look at you with wide eyes.

“A hot what now?” He said, making you laugh at the face he was making before you brushed his concerns away.

“Nothing, Papa. I’m staying home today to finish my biology homework. No hot dates for me. Plus, it’s too cold out. Winter here sucks.” You joked with a smile. You hugged your grandma again, just holding her for a minute for the comfort before you let her go again.

“Love you guys, drive safely ok?” You asked as they prepared to leave for the day.

“Always. Make sure you stay safe, okay? Don’t forget to wear your glasses. And you know where the gun is if you need it.” Your grandpa said as you laughed, shooing them out the door and on to their day.

“I won’t need it. Goodbye, love you guys!” You called out as they repeated the gesture before you closed and locked the door.

It had already been a long day, and it was only 1 p.m. You were looking long and hard at this Spider-Man, trying to figure out who – or what - he was. You were watching the pattern for the times he was “patrolling”, you guessed you would call it. He seemed to only patrol in the afternoon and evening, not really at night or, suspiciously, during school hours. Sure, he could be a kid, but you have to keep your mind open. Maybe he’s a grown ass man with a job that has weird hours. Who the hell knows, in all honesty? This was you going off a whim, an instinct if you will. Who knows what any of this would yield in the long run anyway?

You assumed he was a kid, however, after you heard a small clip of a video with his voice in it. It was very brief, making you second guess yourself, but it was almost undoubtably a kid, probably around the same age as you. You took note of his web shooters, as you’ve started to call them because, well, they shoot webs. It seemed like the actual shooters were simple enough to make. If you pressurize whatever web fluid he was using, then put it in a tube and use a button to push it out, it would work almost like a can of silly string. The curious part to you, however, was the actual web fluid. According to all the scientific research you could find, it was nearly impossible to create artificial spider webs made of silk, or with the tensile strength of silk. The only thing you could find was intergenic spider-sheep from China who could produce spider silk in their milk that could be harvested (Which, like, what? Why?). So, how? You played with a different idea, since really silk is mostly liquid with some proteins in it that strengthened the more weight was put on it, but still. You were struggling to figure it out, and it didn’t help that you didn’t have a science lab to play in.

You gave up after a bit and moved onto the outfit he wore. Half gloves, sure, with the shooters. A sweater, facemask with dark goggles (smart boy, trying to filter out extra stimuli), and some sweats with socks and slip on shoes. Yeah, ok great. Easy enough, you thought. However, you didn’t want to steal his look. So, you thought of going the total opposite. He was all full of colors, therefore you would be devoid of any. You grabbed a pair of black leggings, deciding they would rip too easily, and jeans would be constrictive. You hummed a bit and decided hey, leather never hurt anyone. So, you pulled out the only pair of leather leggings you own and put them on for the first time. You nodded, walking back over to your clothes and finding a black tank top and sweater. You found black gloves and brought them into your room before snipping the fingers off. You slid them on and braided the top of your head into two partial braids, tying them off into ponytails to keep it out of your face. You found an old black beanie and decided that it, also, would be cut up. You pulled it entirely over your face and used chalk to mark where the top and bottom would be, along with where your eyes would go. You cut out said pieces and hemmed it, smiling at your handy work before sliding the strip of fabric over your eyes and nose. You grabbed a pair of black socks and your black converse with a smile, scrunching you nose.

“Okay, suit done.” You said with a small, nervous smile, checking the time and seeing it was almost five in the afternoon. You put everything away before heading up to the living room, sitting on the couch with your dogs and turning on the TV so the news would fill up the background noise. While you were passively watching the news however, something caught your eye and caused your anxiety to rocket through the roof. It was a story, and video (!!!) of you hurdling over a car without even looking up to see it. Your eyes widened, making sure your face was too fuzzy to see before you allowed yourself to calm down slightly. You looked outside, biting your lip. The sun would set soon, and you could go outside and try out these new abilities of yours. And maybe, at the same time, draw the news away from you to, well, also you, but in a costume this time. You sat on the couch for a bit more, distracting yourself by cuddling your dogs, before getting up with a groan. You fed your dogs, then went and changed into your new, all black ensemble. You texted your grandparents that you were hanging out with Ky at the mall, feeling guilty about the lie but knowing they wouldn’t understand, before slipping your phone into your pocket, grabbing your house key, and slipping out of the house.

It wasn’t until almost midnight when you got home, hoping you had done a sufficient job in pulling attention for the media to cover the next day in the local news. You had barely thought the plan through, in all honesty, but you hoped it worked. You would much rather have a video of you in a costume, unidentifiable, going around climbing walls rather than an image of you hurdling a car with ease. You really, truly hoped you had done well enough, sticking to downtown Milwaukee where you thought most street cameras would be. You slipped in and quickly went to your room, changing into regular clothing before going up to your grandparents’ room, finding them both asleep, before heading to the kitchen. You wrote on the whiteboard on the wall that you were home safe before heading to your room to attempt to get some sleep.

You had gone out every night since then for the last week, climbing walls and pushing your fear of heights as you jumped from building to building. You found a few small thugs, relying on your new 6th sense to help you fight them and keep yourself safe. You did still, however, get a knife to the thigh. As well as your new gifts helped, you were still massively undertrained in martial arts, so you were vulnerable in fights. You had panicked, unsure of what to do, so you had finished up with them as quick as possible and hurried home. You googled how to give yourself stitches, then did so and fell asleep. When you woke up the next morning, the wound was nearly healed, making you stare in wonder at the small pink line that lined your leg now.

You wrote fast healing (cellular life shorter/faster reproduction) underneath your name in your notebook. You had also noticed how much faster your metabolism had gotten when you almost passed out one time while swinging due to lack of nutrients or water, you weren’t quite sure yet, but it was the only working theory at the moment.

However, that was two days ago now. You were just now starting to hear news stories and see articles about yourself running around downtown at night. You nodded with a smile the first time you had seen it, happy that no one was connecting anything back to you, or to the original video that had aired a while ago. You hadn’t been given a name by the public yet, but you were patiently waiting. It felt almost like a silent initiation to the superhero world to have the public give you a name, like Iron Man or Spider-Man. However, only one of those names you looked on positively, and it wasn’t the billionaire.

“(Y/N)! Have you seen this yet?!” You heard Ky yell as she ran up to you between classes. You winced as you heard her voice, still amplified by your new extra sensitive senses, before you both stopped and stepped to the side of the hall as she showed you a video of you jumping from building to building. You let out a few nervous chuckles, your anxiety through the roof. You were horrible at lying to begin with, but especially to your best friend. It made you clutch onto your backpack straps a little tighter as you waited anxiously for her to continue her, what you assumed, small rant.

“Like, what the hell?! Milwaukee has its own Spider-Man now!” She squealed. You pretended to squint at the video, pretending to investigate it, before making a statement.

“They could be a girl. Look at their build - there.” You said as you started to walk towards your next class together – choir. She nodded in agreement, noticing the build of the person did seem to be on the smaller, more feminine side.“Even better! There are so few female superheroes, it would be amazing to see another girl other than Black Widow! I mean, don’t get me wrong, she is iconic. But, like, she’s the only one. Even in those clips from the Battle of New York a few years ago – I mean, she is literally the only female Avenger.” Ky ranted quickly, trying to get all of her opinions out into the air before you reached your class.

“I mean, yeah. Hopefully. I don’t really like the Avengers, but Black Widow is probably my favorite one.” You said with a small smile, your heart warming. As much as you had only started going out in public to distract from the original video of you that had hit the news, you were almost proud of yourself now. What you felt you had started out of an act of cowardice, hiding your identity, was reaching other girls, if not worldwide then at the very least locally. Being a woman, much less a girl, in Milwaukee was usually a terrifying thing. Women go missing and are assaulted at a higher rate than most cities around it. If you could somehow inspire women to stand up for themselves, learn to protect themselves… It would mean the world to you.

You smiled as you walked with Ky into the choir room, greeting your teacher as you sat down. Ky ranted on for a while more about how cool it was that Milwaukee got its own hero, let alone a female one, and you couldn’t help but think that this might be more of a blessing than a freaky curse. It made you feel almost comfortable with everything. Almost.

Throughout the next few weeks, a few things began to happen.

First, you manage to figure out the secret to how Spider-Man makes his webs. It was difficult to figure out, but you got there eventually. It was a specific combination of chemicals that was compressed into the shooters on his wrists. After doing a lot of math and chemistry, and a lot of failed attempts, you had finally cracked the recipe. The honest hardest part of everything was getting your hands on the physical chemicals you needed because your school kept them under strict lock and key, and it took some convincing for your grandparents to let you order the chemicals online with the money you had saved up doing odd jobs for them and neighbors. This was all amazing, and the progress you had made within a few weeks was astonishing, but that wasn’t what made you happiest.

The public had finally given you a name.

“The Night Crawler, not to be mistaken for New York’s Spider-Man, is Milwaukee’s own crime-fighting superhero. Dressed in all black and keeping to the shadows, she remains mysterious to the population. While there have been many celebrations city-wide around her sudden appearance, one question remains – who is she, and how do we repay her?” Ky read out quickly with a smile as you both settled into your seats for AP Psychology, kicking your bag under your desk as you turned to face her.

“Isn’t that so cool, (Y/N)? We have our own hero. Maybe she can help bring down crime rates.” Ky mumbled with a giddy excitement. You just nodded along until class started, not able to focus your attention very well this morning. You were happy that you were indirectly making your best friend happy, but you just had trouble focusing today. Every small lull in conversation had your head nodding, and every small squeak of a pencil or squeal of a chair had you wincing.

To be fair to your teacher, it was a very interesting class. Your teacher had used the Night Crawler as an example for one of the terms, and it had gotten everyone to be so much more involved in class as they discussed the morality of superheroes, and what morality was in the first place. It seemed a bit more philosophical to you, but none the less, it wasn’t a bad class to start out the day.

The months turned at a snail’s pace, the snow melting and bringing in the wet warmth of spring. Freshman year of high school slowly draws to a close, bringing you to the brink of exhaustion many times. You were slowly starting to regain your energy, thanks to the constant cold leaving was your theory based off the behaviors of spiders, but you couldn’t test your theory until next winter now anyway.

By the time summer rolls around, you were on edge constantly. The news of the Sokovian accords had broken, and footage from the airport in Germany was leaked, showing the huge battle in the middle of the tarmac. It was terrifying to watch, unable to decide yourself what you thought was right. As much as you wanted to say you would follow the law, you weren’t sure. Who’s to say that the Avengers, in the case that they all signed the agreement, wouldn’t just become a world-wide militia? They would be at the command of multiple countries with no clear leader.

Not to mention crime was picking up in Milwaukee, and while you seemed to be getting better at this whole crime-fighting thing, it was still too much for you to handle on your own. You tried your hardest, but that didn’t make the statistics any easier to read. Even then, the more attention you got, the more nervous you became in terms of your identity. People were becoming more curious, trying to figure out who was trying, and failing in the eyes of the public, to protect their city. When they analyzed your schedule, if they did so, not much could be deduced since it could just mean you don’t work at night, but that didn’t calm your nerves in any way. You were careful to never show your face and to take complicated routes back home so that it was hard to trace you. You were trying to be smart about this, but still, it was taking a toll on you.

Internally though, you were still conflicted. You hated “superheroes” in the traditional sense, especially since your mom, well… Since she passed in New York. The Avengers could have helped her, had they tried hard enough, and you hated that. You hated that she died alone and scared and hoping that the Avengers would save her, and yet no one did. You hated it. On the other hand, you wanted to be there to help the people who end up in those situations. You wanted to help out the little guys who couldn’t help themselves. That is what kept you going, day in and day out. If the Avengers wouldn’t help, then you would. As much as you tried to tell yourself it was ok, you were ok, it was still hard knowing there were people who couldn’t be helped.

Especially when it came to days like today. Your anxiety had been kicking all day, and you had been on the verge of crying for the last few hours. It was nearing the end of June, so the weather was decent for being almost midnight. You just wanted to be done and sleep. So, despite how much you still wanted to help, you called it quits for the night, deciding to turn and start swinging back home when a bullet grazed your calf, causing you to yelp and lose your rhythm swinging. You almost smacked right into the ground before you caught yourself. You clung to the side of the building you were currently on, looking down to see where you had been shot at. You winced, seeing where the skin had torn and the bruising that was starting already around it. You were about to reach down to assess the wound before you felt your senses pick up again, your eyes snapping up as you launched yourself towards another building across the street as hard as your leg would allow. You watched behind you as the bullet hit the building where your torso had just been, eyes wide in mild shock as you followed where the bullet must have come from before you practically screamed in shock and frustration.

“Jesus Christ-“ You mumbled angrily, climbing up the building quickly when you sensed another bullet. You quickly jumped out of the way, catching yourself as you launched a web at the roof, before you angled your body to face the man who was shooting at you. You launched a web from your free hand not holding you to the roof, snatching the handgun from him before webbing it to the building next to you, out of reach. You were about to taunt him, turning to look back down at the man, before you saw him pull another gun out of the waistband of his pants.

“What the fuuuck dude.” You wheezed out, unsure as to why this grown ass man was targeting you, a child. Until you realized, no, to the public you weren’t a child. You were, well, Night Crawler. And if someone in the city thought you were getting too close to their issues... you wouldn’t doubt that they would try to take you out.

“Well okay then. What’re you hiding?” You wondered quietly before swinging over to him and kicking him square in the chest as you passed, trying to move quick enough so he couldn’t get a good aim at you. You landed on your feet, quickly webbing him up into a cocoon, then webbing his cocoon to a wall. You squinted at his face, trying to see if you could pick out his face at all as someone you knew, or someone from the news. It turns out that he’s a member of a big gang, from what you could recognize from his face. You smiled and backed away as you heard the police sirens in the distance.

“Have fun in prison, dude. Send me a letter, and don’t drop the soap, yeah?” You said as you backed away. His eyes widened as you spoke.

“You’re a fucking kid?” He asked, obviously shocked. You laughed at his shock before shrugging your shoulders.“Maybe. But either way, you shouldn’t shoot at people. It’s rude.” You quipped before launching yourself back into the air, enjoying the breeze as you took a long route home in the off chance that you were being followed or watched. When you landed by your door, you frowned at the wound on your leg. It didn’t seem bad, and you had gotten loads better at doing stitches in the last few months, but you knew it would still ache in the morning.

[cazimagines]

Could you maybe do a Laszlo fic where he catches the reader binding their chest and practicing a deep voice. I have been doing it(yes I do it safely) because I want to be a male and would love to see how my comfort character would react to the reader saying they want to transition

Late to an interview

Synopsis: See above

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: Hey, I'm really sorry this took a while to write, and it's a bit short, but I hope you like it nonetheless! I have your other two fic requests still in my inbox and I'll get to them at some point in the next few weeks 💕

Warnings: Nothing apart from the binding described within this isn't a safe way to bind but obviously during the time period this is set there wasn't a safe way, so just bear that in mind please don't hurt yourself by binding in this way 💜

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Laszlo let out a huff as he placed his quill down beside the parchment. Gently he ran his finger across the paper, checking to see how quickly the ink dried and then gently placed it upon his ever-increasing pile of papers. He’d been trying to sort through all the notes he had gathered of his patients, and recording down his recent discoveries among the children that lived at his institute. He believed in a few years he might be able to publish his findings and potentially have an impact on the way children were raised in households so that they might be less need for children having to come to his institute.

All of this wasn’t the reason why he had sighed, however. As he sat back in his chair, he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket to pull out the pocket watch for the third time this past half an hour. As he opened it up again his eyes flickered over the hands of the clock noting the time. Bitting the inside of his lip he placed the pocket watch back into his waistcoat and finally stood up from his seat.

You were now half an hour late for your interview and while Laszlo preferred people to appear on time to keep everything orderly, he would understand if you were a few minutes late. But half an hour? It wasn’t like you and so now he resigned himself to the fact he would have to search around the institute to find out where you were.

His footsteps echoed throughout the deserted hallway and as he glanced out of a grubby window he could see most of the children screaming and running around outside on the playground. A quick glance across them though and Laszlo could see you were not amongst them. He didn’t chalk you up for someone who enjoyed the notion of exercise.

From what Laszlo had observed of you at your time in the institute, he had noted down you were particularly introverted especially around your peers. While the other girls of the institute formed their own groups, braided their hairs and made daisy chains, Laszlo would see you sitting on your own, isolated from the rest of the group. A girl might occasionally approach you asking if you wanted to join them but you always shrugged them off. Laszlo particularly noticed the way your eyes wandered over to where the boys would run off, the rougher games they would play. It was something he had been meaning to discuss with you during this very interview.

Laszlo made the assumption of all places you would be compelled to hide in, the dormitories, which would be subsequently empty due to everyone being outside, is the place you would choose to go. And so that is where Laszlo followed, approaching the old door of the girl’s dorms.

He raised his hand to knock at the door, as not to barge in on you but in the silence, he heard the sound of a voice. His eyebrows furrowing, he instead lent his head to the door, placing his ear upon it in an attempt to hear the voice better.

He strained to hear at first, his eyes narrowing in concentration but then he caught it, the sound of a deeper voice coming from within the dorm room. The person was reciting Hamlet, almost like they were testing the words they were saying, speaking slowly to hear themselves. Confused Laszlo quietly edged the door open to peer inside the room. He grew anxious, believing one of the boys had snuck into the girl’s dorm, though reciting Shakesphere is not what Laszlo would have ever expected a boy who snuck into a girl’s dorm to do, but as he glanced into the room his eyes widened with understanding.

You were sat on your bead, book in hand, too caught up in it to notice the door opening. As Laszlo looks you over he could see how you had pulled your hair up and tying it into a knot on the back, you didn’t appear to have a dress on and Laszlo was going to look away due to moral implications but he saw you had managed to procure some boys trousers which you were wearing and had snuck bandages out of the medical cabinet. You had wrapped them around yourself tightly and tied them up to give the appearance of a flat chest. You were attempting to read out Hamlet in a lower voice to see how it sounded like and hoped that one day you might be able to talk like this often.

It was something Laszlo had suspected before with you, but he had never brought it up due to the fear of potentially startling you, but now Laszlo recognised this would be the best time to talk to you about it, plus this was still technically when you were supposed to be having your interview.

Pushing the door open widely now, Laszlo clears his throat alerting you to the fact you stood in the doorway. Your head quickly snapped to him and you stood up startled at being seen.

“Laszlo!” you exclaimed in surprise, dropping the book within your hand to instead wrap them around your chest.

Laszlo cautiously raises his hand to attempt to calm you, “It’s okay, it’s okay y-”

The word catches in Laszlo’s mouth as he falters, the realisation coming to him that the name he knew you by, likely wasn’t one you felt comfortable with so he cuts himself off, instead choosing to nod his head towards you and putting on a smile.

Your mind scrambles for why Laszlo had appeared in your dorm, believing you would have been left alone while everyone was outside but then your memory kicked in and you felt a wave of guilt rush over you. “The interview” you gasp, “Laszlo I - I completely - I’m so sorry, I forgot”

“It’s okay,” Laszlo tells you calmly, still noting your alarmed appearance and so he tried to relax the situation. “We can have the session now”

Laszlo motions for you to sit on the bed, and as you do so does he. He doesn’t speak for a second, his mouth opening slightly as he carefully thinks over his words.

“What- what would you like me to call you?”

You freeze, in shock as you stare at Laszlo. It takes you a moment, breathing slightly heavier as you finally start to move your hands away from your binder, finding the courage to speak again.

“Y-y/n” you finally manage to whisper.

Laszlo offers you a smile and nods his head, “Y/n” he says repeating your name.

“Y/n, while outside of the institute, often people don’t understand conditions like this, they are judgefull, they don’t understand nor do they want to understand. But here you are safe from their scorns, free of judgment. I’ve studied similar cases, become acquainted with others like you. I can offer a place for you to be comfortable, in, where you can stay with the boys, choose how you wish to appear, and in return I wish for you to tell me about your experiences. How you feel. Are you willing to do this?”

You could feel the tears swell up within your eyes as you nod to Laszlo, finding it hard to reach the words to describe the feelings crashing through you at Laszlo’s kind words.

“But, what about when I have to leave?” you whisper, not being able to bear the thought of leaving the safety of the institute but Laszlo had already gone over all possibilities within his mind.

“If you would be so welcomed to it, I have plenty of work positions here at the institute that would suit you”

Tears streamed down your eyes and you raised your hand to your mouth to cover the sobs of happiness that came from you. The often stiffened appearance of Laszlo loosened as he observed you. Hesitantly he scooted over the bed to you, lifting up his arm and gently wrapping around your shoulder. Slowly you found yourself leaning into his shoulder, enjoying his gentle embrace and all the comfort he gave you.

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[lowkeyorloki]

hi it’s phoebe anon and omg i completely relate to ur post about how ur gonna be sad when asis is over because i’ve thought about it quite a few times and OHHH boy it hurts my heart so much 😩 i’m gonna miss narvi and dilf loki so bad man!!!! i’ve always had such an issue with saying goodbye to things like this, especially when i’ve spent so much time with them, and like i’ve been following this story for over a year now so i’m trying to brace myself hahah i still remember when u posted the last chapter to the Archetype (which i think was a year ago) i cried for like 10 min for absolutely no reason bc i didn’t want it to be over and i spent a FRACTION of the time reading/ living in that world compared to this bruh. it’s bad fa me.

anyway i’ll stop the sob story i’m so so so excited for the update tomorrow !! prepared for the angst!!! ❤️ much love

YEAH so like I knew I would be sad because it's been over a year and if the fic ends in June like I think it will (my spring break is in a few weeks and I'm hoping I'll really solidify when the fic will end then) then asis will have lasted a year and half which is a super long time; especially during the pandemic because everything feels longer and more intense. Like I knew of that and felt sad but I've been preparing for a long time so like it's fine.

But over this past weekend I realized that asis ending basically means the end of Narvi because I've never seen him in a Loki x reader and I doubt we will tbh. If MCU Loki has had his fanbase for over ten years now and there's only a handful of fics with him (tbh my fic is the only one I know of that uses the Narvi character but I'm sure there's a couple more out there) then he's never going to be utilized. As sad as asis ending is, there is never going to a shortage of Loki x readers. What will genuinely make me depresso for a prolonged period of time is that, again, asis ending means I will probably never see the Narvi character again. Idk it just makes me sad. This is super self indulgent but I would love it if asis got popular enough to make Narvi a somewhat common character within the fandom. There's so much potential in Asgardian reader fics (maybe Loki's wife died and Odin brought you in to replace her before Loki and Narvi are ready, or maybe Loki is divorced) and modern AUs (all the single DILF tropes). Anyway this is all to say as sad as a fic ending is there's always more fics, but in the case of asis in regards to Narvi specifically that isn't the case and it's going to be hard to let go of the fic because of that.

Also.... Phoebe anon..... the serotonin boost I got at the mention of The Archetype... I definitely view that as my best work and I love it so so much so to know you read it is just 🥰🥰🥰 I was also sad when it ended because it was such a unique fic and truly out of the norm of my typical work. It's also so crazy to me to think that you liked my work enough to be sad over it ending like I don't want you to be upset but also knowing someone enjoys my silly little Loki fics that much... it makes me v happy :')

The biggest thing for me is that when She Shall Have and The Archetype ended, I still had asis going. I don't have any fics planned after this. I have two multichapter ideas in my drafts and a couple chapters written for each, but I've been writing multichapters since March of 2020 now so it's time for a break, haha. My point is I won't have another fic to throw myself into and distract myself from the other ending - and y'all won't either (at least not from me obvi there's plenty other awesome Loki authors).

Wow okay I hope this didn't make you too sad LMAO I hope you're enjoying the last couple hours until 1) YOUR BDAY OMG!!!! and 2) the next chapter of asis!! We've still got a lot of plot and chapters to get through so we can rest easy for the next two months at least <3

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

What Happens at a Lake - Philo Beddoe x Reader

Requested by @starryfallows

(A/N: THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I HAVE EVER WRITTEN!!! FOUR AND A HALF THOUSAND WORDS!!!!!! I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF!!!!!!

All are by @clinteastwood-blog

Yeah sooo I’m posting it here anyway, even though it’s REALLY long. Sorry I couldn’t put the two black and white set photos, because for SOME REASON, Tumblr is telling me that I’ve reached the ten image limit, when there’s ONLY half of that! Seven with those other two! Ugh! Anyway, this is indeed the longest fic I have ever written, and I am honoured and proud that it’s a Clint fic, requested by someone on Tumblr. I love you all.

Update: @believerindaydreams taught me how to put keep reading :D thank you very much 🙏)

It took three months for Philo's bones to heal and get back to full strength. Since his main job as a car repairman really depended on both his arms having their full strength, and his other job as a lorry driver did require some strength to pull the levers in the vehicle, you had been working for twelve hours everyday at the Palomino, where you were a pianist. It was a relief when Orville returned from his nurse one month in, so you could work for just nine hours. You returned to your usual eight hours only when Philo had fully healed. During those three months, Philo and Clyde remained in the audience for you mr twelve hours everyday anyway, and you gladly let them be there - better to listen to your playing than to staying at home and listen to ma pestering him about his idleness.

It was one evening two months after Philo was back in business. Philo, Orville and you were around the dinner table, having almost finished dining. Clyde was off monkeying around somewhere and ma had finished earlier and gone to another part of the house, where she was likely griping to herself again about something or other.

"You know, we haven't done anything to celebrate," you said, looking around at them.

The boys looked at each other in question, confused as to what you were talking about and surprised at this sudden and random vocalisation. They then turned back to you. "Celebrate...?" Philo trailed off, his voice sweet and adorable.

"Your retirement," you said lanconically.

"Only from brawling! I'm still a lorry driver and car repairman!" he argued, leaning towards you slightly.

"Yeah but still. It calls for some celebration." You were still calm, because you knew that Philo was not trying to pick a fight. This was just how he always was.

"Okay...what did you have in mind?" There. He was as relaxed as if nothing had happened.

"We could go to a lake again. One with a cabin that we can rent for an indefinite period of time."

A smile immediately formed on his face. "That sounds great." He turned his head to look back at Orville.

"Yeah," Orville said, nodding, "yeah, we can do that." Philo faced you again.

"Alright! So, when do you guys wanna leave?" you piped up cheerily.

"Well, you're the one who suggested it. You decide," Philo told you.

"Can we leave tomorrow?" Your eyes darted to and from theirs.

"Oh. Sure," Philo answered.

"Cool with me," Orville agreed. You grinned at them.

When Philo and you were alone in your shared bedroom that night, he backed you up against the wall, his hands on either side of your head, the rest of his body blocking any way of escape, almost pressing against yours, and his face very close to yours. You were hyperventilating, yet you could not avert your eyes and resist staring into those gorgeous green gazers. "That was a very good idea of yours." Oh hell - he was deliberately making his voice deeper and more gravelly, the way he knew you liked it. This was something he did when he wanted to be especially affectionate with you. He did not do it during his three months of healing because you always would be too tired for it.

"I-I thought we could use it," you panted, shaking.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours, feeling the heat radiating from you. "It's agreed," he breathed, and you could feel his breath on your face. You squeaked and squeezed your eyes shut, turning your head away. He chuckled when you squeaked. "What was that?" You whimpered and shook your head vigorously, indicating that you were not going to answer. He smiled and moved a hand to rest it on your warmed cheek, gently pushing your head to face him. His thumb stroked your eyelids until you opened them. When you did, he leant in and kissed you.

When ma saw the three of you loading the truck the next morning, she, as usual, waddled within hearing range and demanded to know where the four of you were going.  "A lake, ma," Orville sighed over his shoulder as he threw a bag inside.

"A lake?!  What on earth're you goin' ta a lake fo?!"  she hollered.

"A vacation, ma," Orville grumbled out before he got inside the seating area and closed the door before he could hear anymore of ma's nagging. You were holding the back doors open while Philo helped Clyde inside.

"WHAT?!  A VACATION?!  AND LEAVING YOUR OLD MOTHER ALL BY HER LONESOME!!"  And so on.  Philo and you hurried up with shutting the back doors and getting in yourselves.  Philo sped off as soon as he was seated.

"We need a vacation from her," you huffed, relieved, leaning against the window.

"You're telling me," Orville got out as he took off his cap and tiredly rested it on his lap.

"Well at least we're actually away from that now," you comforted him. Philo fiddled with the radio and stopped when he found a station he was happy with.

The ride passed in mutual joy and comfort.  The three of you would occasionally crack jokes, and sometimes Clyde would give his input, especially when he was asked to pass a drink or food item in front.  This lasted for several hours and a few pit stops on the way.

"All right, I think this is the nearest one," Philo said as he drove through some trees.  A little further into them showed that there was a lake stretching in between them, dividing them into two. Philo drove on, and all three of you kept a watch out for a cabin.

There were two, one larger than the other. The larger one was obviously for if there was more than one guest to stay, and so the smaller one was for the lone landlord.  Philo drove up to the guests' cabin and parked.  The three of you got out then let the orangutan out as well.  All four of you walked the rest of the way to the landlord's cabin.  Since Philo was the nearest to it, he knocked on the door.  "Yeah?"  the landlord said when he opened the door.

"We'd uh, like to rent this place for a few days.  Don't know how long.  We'll let you know when we leave.  There are three adults plus," he put a hand on Clyde's shoulder, "an ape."

"Oh..."  he observed Clyde, "well, people are allowed to bring their pets here, so long as they clean up after 'em, and I do have a set fee for pets.  So that's not gonna be a problem.  I'll just come to you and collect rent everyday, so it don't matter how long you stay."

The three of you grinned at each other. "Perfect," Philo informed the landlord. The latter nodded his head politely and closed the door. "Alright!" Philo exclaimed, clasping his hands together, "let's unpack!"  And the three humans proceeded to do so.  Clyde was left outside to climb trees and do his thing.

Soon enough, all the luggage was unpacked and in your respective rooms.  You three were now seated on the couches.  There were three of these which surrounded a coffee table, save for one side which had the television against the wall.  Philo and you were on one couch and Orville was on the one in the centre.  "So, what do you guys wanna do now?"  you asked.

"Is the water clean enough to swim in?"  Philo mused, turning around and looking in the general direction of the lake.

"We can always find out," Orville suggested playfully.

You laughed, closing your eyes.  "I suppose we can just ask the landlord."

It turned out that the water was indeed suitable for swimming. As far as swimwear went, yours was just a t-shirt and shorts. So it was for the boys too, minus the shirt. Since you were the shortest, you waded in first to determine how far out was safe for you. You kept hopping until the water reached just below your chin. The two taller men followed, with Philo going the farthest out and Orville in between you two. Since it was deep enough for you, you let your legs float up so that you were now lying on your back on the water's surface. You let the current carry you out, occasionally moving a limb to change directions. Orville had swum away, which left you a clear path to catch up to Philo, who was also swimming. Once you reached Philo, you moved your legs back down and started treading water. "Hi," you said.

"Hey," he smiled, showing his teeth. He made himself stand and grabbed you, situating your legs around his waist. You put your hands on his shoulders. Smiling at each other, he walked you about.  It was a while of this before he started picking up the pace, hopping, and then pushing you away from him altogether.  You giggled as you bobbed away, treading water to stay near him.  After that, the two of you started swimming properly.

The three of you swam for two hours.  Since Orville was all by his lonesome and not staring at a romantic partner, he was the one to notice that his fingers were wrinkled.   "Alright, we gotta go," he called out, holding up hand, facing the palm towards you two.  All three quickly paddled to shore.   Philo's feet touched the bottom first, then Orville's, then yours.  Clyde was hanging from the tree that you three would pass by on the way out, looking at you all.

"Hi Clyde," Orville said as he passed.

"Hi Clyde," you followed.

"Hi Clyde," Philo finished.

"Oo oo oo," he returned to all three of you at once.

Orville went into the bathroom in his room to shower.  "You wanna go first, or shall I?  Or you wanna go at the same time?"  Philo asked.

"Same time," you smiled.  So the both of you stripped and went into the bathroom in your shared room, impulsively filling up and climbing into the bathtub rather than actually stepping inside the shower.  He sat with his back against the wall, so you sat in between his legs without your back to him.  He wrapped an arm around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Thanks for being here with me," he murmured, turnings his head and kissing your cheek. He was always additionally affectionate when he was happy and content.

You smiled brightly and brought an arm up to cradle his head, running your hand through his coarse fluffy hair. "I love you."

"I love you too." His other arm joined the one that was already around you. When he felt that you were about to fall asleep - it happened everytime you were relaxed in his embrace - he hurried up with bathing the both of you.

"Nbuh!"  you interjected as your head jerked up, having been shocked to the point of waking.

"Don't sleep in here.  We can have dinner and then sleep," Philo lectured, poking your upper arm once for each sentence he spoke.  You yawned and stretched, and then cleaned yourself.

The both of you got out.  Philo drained the tub while you wrapped a towel around yourself.  You passed another to him.  You broke out into a toothy grin when you saw him vigorously rubbing it through his fluffy hair.  He felt your gaze on him and looked up.  "What?"

"Nothing," you kept grinning, "Your hair is amazing."

"O...kay?"  He just went back to drying his hair.

You laughed softly before saying, "I love your hair."

"Thank you."  You could hear the smile in his voice.

After drying off, you opened the door and headed out.  Philo lay down on the bed and smiled at you, lifting the sheets for you to climb under.  You laughed softly and crawled to him, and you two snuggled.  "You sure we can do this?  Orville and Clyde might be waiting on us for dinner."

"Mmf..." he grumbled.  He begrudgingly reached his long arm to open the closet and pulled out a pair of boxers and then trousers.  He pushed you a little distance away so that he had space to put them on and then threw his feet over the side of the bed onto the floor, the momentum allowing him to spring up. He walked out of the room, and you nestled under the covers and waited.

Orville was at the kitchen counter, preparing dinner. "Oh," he acknowledged with some surprise when he saw Philo walk to him. "I figured you'd be longer, so I got started on dinner. I was gonna call Clyde in when I was done."

"Yeah, I was, but (y/n) reminded me that you might be waitin' on us. So I came out ta check on ya."

"Well you can go on back in there and give her a thank you from me.  You can do whatever with her until dinner's ready."

"You sure you don't need any help?"  Philo offered.

Orville shook his head and said, "Nah.  I can manage."

Philo nodded his head a few times in acknowledgement.  "Thanks," he said before turning around and walking away.

"Sure," Orville returned.

You were lying with your fingers interlaced, your head resting on them as you stared up at the ceiling. Your eyes turned to look at Philo when he appeared in the doorway. "Orville says we can stay here till dinner's ready. He can manage," he said as he walked inside. As he walked, he undid his clothes. You scooted further in, so as soon as he put his clothes on the seat of the chair as he passed he could slide in. You took your place right by his side again.  He had one arm under your waist.  He turned onto his side so that he was a little way on top of you.  He reached around and stroked the side of your head with his other hand.  You smiled softly up at him.  He moved to suspend himself above you on his hands and knees now, his limbs caging you safely. The both of you closed your eyes as he rested his forehead on yours. He pressed his lips forwards slightly, just touching your own and then withdrawing repeatedly, questioning whether he could kiss you. Your breathing became heavier at his teasing, and you put your hands on the back of his head and pushed it down the rest of the way.  At the exact same time, you both closed your eyes and let out heavy exhales through your noses as you kissed.  He lowered his full weight onto you, doing it slowly so that you had time to adjust and support his weight.  "Mmf..."  he let out when you kissed him a bit more aggressively.  You kept at it, eager and needy, and he let himself take it all in.  He withdrew when he needed to breathe, and rested his forehead on yours.  Breaths heavy, chests heaving.  He rolled back to lie down next to you again.  "Was that enough, or do you want more?"  he got out between breaths.

"Mmh..." you exhaled heavily, flipping to lie on your side facing away from him, "Too much for now..."

"Alright." You knew he was grinning at you with his teeth exposed. He scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. You sighed and closed your eyes as he buried his nose in your hair.

And it was just...this. This sweet, unbroken peace, that the two of you shared, only interrupted when there was rapping at the door and Orville called, "You uh...are you guys...busy?"

"No, Orville. We'll be there soon," Philo called back, still staying as he was holding you.

"A'right." He walked away.

Philo turned you around and gave you one more peck on the lips, holding the sides of your face. "Come on," he smiled, "Let's go have dinner."  Smiling as well, you gave a nod of your head, and the both of you got out on opposing sides of the bed and got dressed.  Clyde was already sitting next to Orville, and they were eating.  Like everytime, Philo sat next to Clyde, and you sat next to him.  There was a fifth unoccupied chair between Orville and you. Again, the dining was accompanied by light chatter.

After the dishes were done, Philo opened the door to let Clyde out again, but Clyde clung onto his legs.  "Oh...okay," his human acknowledged.  He closed the doors and carried Clyde, seating him on one arm.  Philo joined you on the couch that was in the middle this time. "What do you guys wanna do now?" he asked, looking past Clyde to the two of you.

You shrugged, "Wanna watch a movie?" Clyde immediately jumped off Philo's lap and onto the couch, banging his fists against his chest and going "Ooh ooh ooh!" The three of you threw your heads back with laughter.

"He wants to watch King Kong!" you laughed.

"I was only three years old when that came out," Philo grinned toothily.

"We- weren't even born yet," you pondered, looking at your lap.

"I'll go get it," Philo said, standing up. You each had brought a selection of movies that might be wanted at any time. King Kong did not conform to this, but there was always a friend to think about. Philo went into the room and came out not long after, holding the casing in his hand. He put the DVD in the reader and let it play. And in the end, it was online Clyde who actually watched the film. The three humans fell asleep early into the film. Philo and you fell asleep, your head on his shoulder and his head on yours, and his arm around your lower back. Orville, who had laid down so that he could prop his head up on the armrest and watch the television, just shifted backwards so that the armrest was comfortably under his neck, and he fell asleep like that, hands resting on his abdomen. Clyde considerately clambered onto the remaining couch to carry out his capers as he happily watched the movie. When it ended, he turned off the television and jumped back onto the third couch to sleep.

The next day saw no less in pleasantness.  After a nice breakfast prepared by Philo, the process of which was carried out while Orville was allowed to sleep in, the three of you took to fishing for lunch and dinner.  Clyde played in the branches above your heads.  The mood was generally lazy and mellow.

And then, it happened. Several fish in, Philo just held up his most recent catch, staring at it. From the corner of his eye, he saw you turn your head to look at him.  Before you could say anything, he swung the fish and slapped you square in the face.

"WAH!" was your cry as you slipped and fell into the water.

Orville was laughing so hard that no sound was emitted from him.  Philo was just staring down at you, tittering to himself.  He still had a hold on the fish.  Your head broke the surface, along with your spluttering and spitting.  In return, you spewed a steady stream of water at him, standing up so that you could reach his face.  "Hey, wha-" he vocalised, turning his face away and putting his hands out to stop the water from reaching his face, dropping the fish in the process.  You quickly picked up the fish, the poor thing which had died due to shock upon impact, and sent him down.  Orville was wheezing by now.  The two of you played like this for some time, with Orville, and Clyde, who came to join him, laughing away.

Philo had to bear the task of preparing dinner after he showered, because he was the one who was not tired.  You were tired out from playing with him so energetically, and Orville was lying on his bed, making his belly ache worse as he kept on wheezing.  Even as he was showering he had had difficulty breathing.  As for Philo, he was as miraculously tireless as ever.  You did not know how he did it.  He was amazing.  You yourself had taken the precaution of showering instead of bathing this time, so that you did not fall asleep with the warm water submerging you.  After putting on warm clothing, you were facedown on your shared bed, spread eagle with your nose buried in the sheets. Now you could safely doze of. It was justified as well that you were not too deep asleep, for it seemed all too soon when you felt a loving hand on your shoulder shaking you awake.  You got up and followed him to the table.  You ate your food quickly so that you could go back to sleep as soon as possible.  Philo had a loving hand stroking up and down your back the entire time you were within his arm's reach.  When he saw you were almost finished, he murmured from behind a spoonful that you could leave your cutlery as it was and he would take care of it. As he was speaking, you had finished and sprung to your feet, wanting to use your last bit of energy to propel you to the place where you did not need to consciously use energy. But when you heard what he said, you stepped over to him and gave him a long hug, bending down and closing your eyes. He closed his eyes and held you too.  You stood like that for a while, until you gently pushed him to look up at you.  He looked at you with those searching eyes, his gaze gentle and yet held so much power over you.

But it only lasted for a moment, because you closed your eyes and kissed him. He reciprocated, sweetly and meaningfully. When oxygen was needed, you pulled back and rested your forehead against his, breathing deeply. "Go to sleep, sweetheart," he murmured, stroking your hair. You gave him one last smile and a peck on the nose before moving fully away. You went and brushed your teeth, and then just collapsed on the bed, not caring how you slept. But later on, you found out that Philo had moved you into a more comfortable position, because when you woke up the next morning, you found yourself securely held by him, right by his side like always.

That day itself was also to be one of perfect happiness.  The three of you were fishing again.  It was just the four you and the fish.  Nobody was paying attention to anything that was going on in the world.

An unexpected, yet not unwelcome voice called out, "Room for one more?"

"JACK!"  you exclaimed, dropping your fishing rod and running to him. He was about to say something, but you pounced on him and hugged him. You loved giving hugs, whether it was to Philo, Clyde, Orville, or any other good friend. And Philo encouraged the good sportsmanship.

Jack was laughing as he held onto you.  "Hey.  Didn't know you'd be that excited to see me."

"We missed you when we parted," you confessed, stepping back to look at him, your hands on his shoulders.  You made way for Philo.

"Hey," your boyfriend greeted.  The fighters clasped hands. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

"Am done fighting for a few weeks. Thought I'd look for you. Went to your place, ran into a senile old woman, barely understood that you were at a lake.  Had to go on a bit of a hunt.  But, here I am."

"Yeah...sorry about my mother..." Orville said forlornly.

"Oh, that's all right. I'm just glad to be here," Jack said as he and Orville shook hands.

"So, are you staying?" Philo asked him.

"Only if I'm permitted," he smiled. Before any of you could say anything, a hairy figure dropped down from the branch above Jack and hugged him. Jack held him up as easily as the rest of you did. "Okay. Now you can move in," Philo smiled.

"Great. I'll go get my stuff." He turned on his heel and walked off, presumably to his car.

"You two continue fishing. I'll give him a tour," Philo said, going to pick up his fishing rod and lean it against a tree.

"Okay," you acknowledged.  So Orville and you picked up your fishing rods too, but you actually used them.

After Philo showed Jack his room among other things, they came back out.  It seemed that the fighters had decided on something as they were talking, because they were indeed dressed for fighting.  Philo was wearing a white shirt- not the one that had been torn, and a pair of jeans.  Jack was in his light blue tank top and slacks.  "Thought you said you were retired, Philo!"  you teased.

"Yeah well," he smirked, looking at Jack and flexing his fist which he was already holding up, "nothing like catching up with a noble opponent."

"Thank you," Jack smiled, getting into a boxing stance and holding his fists up in front of him as well. They started bouncing on their feet, bobbing from side to side, and circling each other.

"Just don't break anything," you reminded them.

As always, Philo waited for his opponent to throw the first punch. He did, and that commenced the fighting. They fought without even coming close and accidentally harming Orville and you. You two caught more fish than usual, since Philo was. not fishing, and there was one more person to feed.

There was enough fish to last five people until dinner.  Lunch for five had already been prepared.  And the fighters were still going!  The three other people stood in the doorway and watched.  And finally,  finally, Philo knocked Jack back against a vertical beam supporting the roof of the porch.  They were drenched in sweat, heaving deep breaths.  "You wanna..."  Philo stopped to pant here, "stop here?"

Jack nodded, and caught his breath to give a, "Yeah."  This was how it almost had been six months ago.  The five of you went inside.  Now the once unoccupied chair has a purpose.  The tired gentlemen sank heavily onto the chairs.  Orville and you got to setting the table, and Clyde opened the refrigerator and took out two cans of beer.  He brought them over to Philo and Jack.  "Thanks," Philo said as he took his.  Jack petted his head.

After a slow, refreshing lunch, the five of you were just sprawled out on the couches. "So, you lift engine blocks," Jack spoke, "How'd you get the strength in the first place?"

"Well, I did start out by lifting lighter weights. I do do other strength work from time to time too."

"Like what?"

"Oh, pumping. I have (y/n) or Clyde on my back while I do it. Makes me push myself more."

"I gotta try that," Jack grinned. With that, he dropped down to his hands and toes. "Come on. Get down. And get Clyde or (y/n) on your back."

"Oh, I get my girl," Philo turned his head to grin at you from the floor. "Clyde." He used his head to motion to Jack. You each got on your respective sports man. You carefully lay on Philo's back, putting your hands on his shoulders and situating your toes on his calves. Orville just watched and but his lip, bemused at such a wholesome situation.

Later that night, you went into the kitchen to get yourself something light to eat and drink. Philo followed you. You were against the counter, and turned around only to come face-to chest with him. “Hey,” he said softly, smiling. You greeted him the exact same way. He leant in and kissed you, your arms wrapping around each other. He backed you up against the counter, so that you were halfway sitting on it. He lifted you up and seated you on the counter fully, then stepping forwards and pushing you to him so that your legs wrapped around his waist. You giggled into the kiss, making him do so too.

[shawnpetermuffins]

I Miss You

A/n: I hope this is good because I put this off for so long wanting to do it justice. And this is based very loosely off I Miss you.

Summary: you two broke up recently, and it's not sitting well with Shawn, even though he's the reason you broke up.

Requested by @it-isnt-in-myy-blood: Hi, I recently listened to the song 'I Miss you' (Clean Bandit, Julia Michaels). Maybe you could write a fic based on the song, angsty but with a fluff ending? Thank you... ❤️

***

Kinda_yourname

2,158 likes

Kinda_yourname Cabo sunsets >>>> anything else

•

It may have only been a week, but I'm missing it here! 😭

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I shut my phone off and toss it to the end of the bed. I should have been with her on that trip, but tour got in the way. I got in the way. It's crazy to think that if you asked me three weeks ago, I would have said that my girlfriend and I could overcome any obstacle thrown at us. But ask me again a week later, and I would tell you I was wrong. That being away from her for months at a time was too much for me and I broke it off because I thought it would be what was best for both of us in the end.

Now ask me if I still believe that.

I don't.

I haven't told anyone about us yet. I mean, everyone probably suspects because there haven't been Amy preshow FaceTime calls for good luck, and I'm not texting like a madman during dinner or when we're on our way to the venues. And I know she hasn't said anything to anyone either. How? Because for one, she hasn't blocked me on any social media - I know, I've checked at least ten times just within the last two hours. And two, she hasn't deleted the three pictures of us that she has on her Instagram. They're still there for everyone to see, me included.

Now my fingers are hovering over the keyboard and I'm staring at her name on my phone which is still My Love 😍, and I'll probably never change it. Because she is my love, and to strip her of that title because I'm an idiot just isn't fair.

Hey... I miss you

I type and backspace and type and backspace at least ten times. Because I want to text her. I want so badly to text her, but what if she doesn't want to hear from me? I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to. I was the worst. Breaking up with her over the phone, no less because I was hurting being away from her. Never once did it occur to me that, yeah, she was hurting too. Or maybe she's with someone else. Maybe she's found somebody new. I want her happy, sure. But I selfishly still want to be the one that makes her happy.

Y/n I miss you.

I delete it one last time and open my photo gallery. I have an album saved for photos of us. Photos that I never got to post because she wanted to keep us as private as possible without being a secret. Which is why both of us only have 3 photos of each other on our Instagram. One for our six months, a year, and a year and a half. Two more months and we would have had a fourth picture.

I'm swiping through the photos landing on one I took of her when we were flying back to Canada after our first trip together. We're on a private jet because this was before we went public with our relationship. Andrew made sure that we weren't seen together in the airport or anything. She's sitting in the seat across the aisle from me, legs up to her chest, earphones in, head resting on her knees as she smiles brightly at me. There's another one of us curled up together on this tiny chair in a green room in the UK that Andrew sent me. She's literally curled into a ball on my lap, sleeping peacefully and my legs are spread in front of me, arms wrapped tightly around her body, head resting against the back of the seat.

The next one Brian took. We were at my place for a very impromptu new years party. It was just gonna be me and y/n, but she insisted we invite the guys over. And we did. It was one of the best nights of my life. We're watching the ball drop, with her in my lap, arm around my shoulder. I have one arm behind her back, the other on her thigh. I think Brian knew something was going to happen because at ten seconds to midnight he pulled his phone out and captured out first new years kiss. She's holding my face and I'm practically leaning her back against the couch. It looks like I'm seconds away from crawling on top of her, and it be honest, I probably was. She's just too perfect for me to resist.

Then there's one that Josiah took of us just a few months ago at the studio house. I had y/n on the kitchen counter, she was in these jean shorts that I loved her in and a button up that she'd stolen from my suitcase. Not that I was complaining. It looked far better on her than it did on me. I stood between her legs, my hands on her sides, slipping under the shirt a little bit, leaning her hips exposed. Not that either of u cared with her fingers threaded in my hair as casually as they were. My face is blocked by her figure, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that I was smiling entirely too wide standing between her legs.

The video that follows knocks the breath out of me. She giggling like crazy, but the camera isn't on her, it's on me. On my back, more specifically. She laughs even more when I wince at the feel of her fingers on my red, raw skin that is now home of her fingernail scratches.

"Baby? What happened to your back?" She asked, amused.

"Don't know," I said, turning to face her, my cheeks still holding a slight blush. "But I think the real question is, what happened to your neck, missy?" I pluck the phone from her hands and turn the camera to her where she's trying to cover her face. I manage, however, to take her hands in my free one and the camera focuses on the flourishing bruises that litter her beautiful neck, my favorite place to rest my head.

I close my eyes, the memory of that night filling my mind. Watching her come down from her high, my face still buried between her legs. The weight and cold touch of her hands as she pulled me up to her, into her, because she needed me closer. I can hear myself murmuring the words 'I love you' all over her skin, still remember the way her back arched when I hit the right spot again and again and her finger ran down my back over and over, once more and she probably would have drawn blood. And I may not be home, but I can smell her on the sheets, that constant aroma of warm vanilla penetrating my nostrils. God, do I miss her.

I'm only making it worse for myself by doing this, I know that. But I should feel bad. I lost the greatest thing in my life and I didn't need to. So I got back to our messages, but instead of going to type a new one, I scroll through, reading through our old texts. There's countless paragraphs of us professing our love for each other. Lots of random pictures sent, most from my side. There's conversations about getting a home together, and a dog. And her telling me how much she loves my family and me telling her how much they love her, how much they ask about her. It's all hitting me too hard right now.

And it doesn't help that im literally sobbing at 2 in the morning, in Paris. The city of love. The place she told me was her favorite trip to ever take with me. Where we stood atop the eiffle tower and I gave her a promise ring, a ring that said I would love her and keep her forever. A promise ring that was now probably in the ocean in Cabo because I tore us apart so easily.

I sit up suddenly, struggling to catch my breath. It takes a few minutes, but I'm able to pull myself out of this empty bed that would only be comfortable with y/n laying next to me. I'm scrambling through the room, picking up the pair of jeans I threw off my body earlier and slipping back into them. I find a torn work out shirt in the bottom of my back and push my head and arms through before throwing my youth hoodie over my already overheated upper body. My passport is sitting in my guitar case, and I grab both things without a second thought. My suitcase trailing behind me.

It's difficult booking a flight and carrying a suitcase and guitar all at once, but I get along just well enough and adjust myself in the lobby while I wait for a taxi. I don't text Andrew until I've made it to the airport and am in my seat on the plane, ready for take off.

Emergency... had to fly home. Promise to make it back in time for the Paris show.

And I turn my phone off before he can text or call me back. Because there isn't a damn thing that he could say that would keep me there in a city that's meant for lovers, when my lover is across the world instead of laying in my arms the way she should be.

I know I shouldn't be doing this. I know there is someone out there who is better for her. Someone who isn't constantly on the move. Someone who can come home to her every night and help her make dinner. Someone who can cuddle her until she falls asleep when she's having a particularly bad day. I know there's someone who can do those things.

But I also know that he won't love her the way I do. He won't know all the little things that I do. Like how she only uses a blue toothbrush. Always has. And he won't notice the tiny scar that she has on her right middle finger from when we tried to make dinner together one night and she cut herself. He probably won't know that she wakes up at 3:34 every single night, because she hasn't been able to sleep fully and soundly through the night since she was four years old. And he'll mess up the way she likes her tea, using tea bags instead of leaves. (She like the herbal taste that you get when you use the leaves. And she likes when you do two scoops of them, and two scoops of sugar, but just cane sugar, the rock sugar makes it too earthy. And of course, she drinks it on ice because she hates burning her tongue with hot drinks.)

I'm thinking way too much as I get off the plane, reluctantly turning my phone back on only to see texts from just about everyone I know. They're all asking where I am, but I ignore them, because what I'm about to do is far more important than anything they threaten me with. I have to make things right.

Standing in front of this door that I've stood in front of hundreds of times should make me feel at ease. Remembering all the times I had her pressed against the other side of the door because I just couldn't wait to have her all to myself. But if anything, it's making me more nervous. So nervous that my hands are shaking, palms sweating, my breathing is jagged and I know if I don't knock right now I might never get the chance again and I can't lose her for real this time. So without giving myself the chance to rethink, I knock on the door three times and I wait, handing in the pocket of my hoodie.

I wait a solid thirty seconds, which feel like an eternity, before the door finally opens and I see my beautiful girl. Her face is bare, hair only halfway straightened, and she's in those shorts I love and my old Led Zepplin t-shirt.

"Shawn," my name still sounds like heaven spilling from her lips. "What are you doing here?" She crosses and then uncrosses her arms, shifting her weight from one leg to the other before standing completely straight.

I didn't even realize I was crying until I sniffled and heard my voice crack with just three words, "I miss you."

"Shawn," she shook her head.

"I tried not to," I insisted, still standing like a fool on her door step. "I swear I did. But I couldn't stop. I looked through all our pictures and texts, and I couldn't stop myself from missing you. And I know I have no right to because I broke things off. But I was in Paris and I was miserable because Paris was your favorite place, and that was where I promised to love you forever, and I'm still keeping that promise. I was an idiot," I continue to ramble. "If there's a better word for that, then I'm that too, because I thought it would be easier if I broke things off. This tour was going to be so long and to go that long without each other, I was scared that it wouldn't be enough for you. But it's not what I wanted, y/n. It's not, and I just-"

"Shawn, stop."

I shut my mouth instantly, ready for her to tell me to leave. But what she does instead throws me completely off guard. She pulls me into the apartment and wraps her arms around my neck, burying her head deep in my chest.

"I miss you, too." She mumbles and I exhale slowly, only to inhale that scent that I love so much. The scent that is naturally her. She starts to pull away, and even though I don't want her to, I let her but she only leans back enough to take my face in her hands and before I even have time to blink, her soft lips are on mine and I'm whole again.

She's mine again and I'm never letting her go.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @shawns-badreputation @anamariel2301 @bbellbagel

This took me longer to write than it should have, but I kinda really like it. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you Wednesday for more content! 💙

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

[a-culture-thing]

Midnight Moon

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Haechan (Donghyuck) × Reader (Gender neutral)

Promt: With the help of the universe, you realise your true feelings for Haechan. The moment is surreal until his phone goes off due to a not so happy Renjun.

Song Rec: Midnight Moon - Oh Wonder

Warnings: One curse word is used lol

Word Count: 1.2k

A/n: I wrote this a while ago and I honestly don't know why I didn't post it but here you go! This is also the first fic I have posted. Feel free to leave a comment or ask any questions! Enjoy 💓

*GIF not mine, credit to original owner

___

It was never my intention. I had not planned on it. I most certainly had not added it to my agenda for that Saturday. Yet, there I was, falling deeper than the Mariana Trench for the boy huddled into my side.

I guess I couldn’t help it, not with his wispy lashes, irresistibly plump lips, and the moon illuminating his skin.

With the way that they reflected endlessly within his pupils, the stars must’ve wanted it to happen. Same with the wind that blew so delicately through his hair, as if he was a fragile house of cards. As well as the crickets whose hum seem to quiet the very moment we settled on the roof of my car. The universe was working harder than the devil to suffocate me with an overwhelming feeling of infatuation, it seemed.

I noticed the change in my feelings towards the boy when I felt myself holding in a breath as he giggled at a barely audible volume, staring back at me with a face bright with joy. It was just a second after that I realized that the desire to hold him close had always been there.

His head was resting on my shoulder when I decided to speak up about the sudden change of emotion.

“Hyuck?” I whispered.

“Hmm?” He hummed, beginning to caress my hand that laid limp in my lap. The warmth that radiated from his fingertips didn’t help my unsettling anxiety.

I let out a small chuckle while looking down to admire the sight of his sweet gesture, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy but…” I stopped myself, considering the consequences of what I was about to say. After concluding that there were too many to count, I spoke. Lowering my voice to that of a mouse, the confession almost came out as a tiny whimper, “I think I'm in love with you.”

“I know,” he scooted closer, nudging himself into my side.

“W-what?” I stammered, dumbfounded.

I was shaking my head in disbelief, looking down at him in complete shock. He, on the other hand, didn't move even the slightest bit, and in all honesty, looked quite bored with the situation he was in.

“Y/n, I’m not dumb. Well… not as dumb as you at least,” he flicked my thigh with a giggle. Sitting up, he faced the moon and spoke after a moment of silence, “You probably haven’t realized either have you?”

“Realized what?”

“That I love you, too, idiot,” He replied in a snarky tone while turning to give me a raised eyebrow.

“O-oh…” I could feel a heat creep onto my cheeks. Thank God for the shield of darkness the night provides, otherwise Haechan would be able to see the red that painted my cheeks.

He suddenly propped himself on his knees and rest his hands besides both of my hips, leaning in to be just inches away from my face.

“Well?” He huffed.

“Well... w-what?” I responded, as flustered as ever.

“Well aren’t you gonna kiss me, you fool?”

Gulping, I nodded.

My eyes flickered between his pair of doe ones and his pouty lips as I slowly leaned towards him, hesitating just before his awaiting mouth before dipping my head down to press our lips together. I did so gently and softly, so not only to avoid surprising him, but also to not ruin the serene moment.

I pulled away just to catch his reaction, and saw that a shy smile had replaced his disappointed frown from just a minute earlier. I found a small ounce of confidence in this, so I placed my hand on the back of his neck and gave him another subtle kiss. Then two. Then three. Then four, and until I realised he was no longer kneeling but hovering above me and out of breath.

To my surprise, he sat back and onto my lap. He gazed around at the golden field that surround my car and at the stars above us. Then closing his eyes he took a deep breath and slumped his shoulders.

I laid still underneath him after resting my palms on his thighs. I took the time to observe his beauty. And my goodness, did he look like a god made of honey.

Unfortunately, though, Hyuck's phone went off, causing the both of us to jump. His hands scrambled around his clothes to find which pocket he had left it in. Once finding it, he answered the call,

"What are you ruining my evening for, Renjun?"

"Yah! Not even saying hello to your hyung first?!"

Haechan didn't respond, glaring off into space although Renjun couldn't see him.

"... Okay well, I was calling to save you from the wrath of our manager. He's gonna be here soon to make sure none of us are out past curfew. If you don't get home in the next half hour you're gonna be in some deep shit, Haechan-ah,"

"Oh my god- I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THAT," Haechan stood up quickly and jumped off the roof of the car. "Y/n come on! You need to get me home RIGHT NOW!" He shouted.

I slid off the roof and got into the driver's seat, worriedly waiting for him to get in as I put the key in the ignition.

"You really need to start remembering these things-"

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you hyung, sorry for being rude, I'll be home soon! Bye!" He hung up, not wanting to waste another second. He rushed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

Within a good 15 minutes I had him back at the dorms. As soon as he had opened the door he was bombarded by the scolding of a fuming Renjun.

"Lee Dong Hyuck, I shouldn't have to wake up at midnight when we have 3 interviews to do tomorrow, just to remind you of these things-"

"I know, I know hyung! I said I'm sorry. Okay? It won't happen again!"

"It better not! Where even were you?"

"That's none of your business Renjun..."

I chuckled lightly while standing behind the closed door, turning around to press my back onto the wall besides it. He had told me to wait there for a second before I left.

Finally, I was given a chance to process what had happened. Did I really confess to him? Had we really shared a kiss? Had we really been letting out our true emotions through touch and heavy breaths, pulling and gentle groping, underneath that midnight moon?

Eventually the arguing died down and I heard them bid each other a goodnight. Then Hyuck opened the front door just enough to poke his head out.

"I'm sorry for having to stop our night so early," he apologized.

I turned towards him and rest my head on the door frame. "It's alright," I smiled.

"Okay," he grinned back at me. "We can go again soon, maybe do a bit more kissing, huh? Haha!"

"Yeah, yeah, we can do that," I nodded.

"Alright then," he paused, gazing into my eyes. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight Hyuck,"

He swiftly stole a kiss before retreating into the dorm and closing the door.

I stood there for a moment, still unsure if the night had just been a dream. I then headed back to my car and drove away from the apartment complex and into the heart of Seoul.