#there’s probably a lot of typos I wrote this while falling asleep

[whereispearlescentmoon]

I simply cannot get out of my head the idea of a shapeshifter Pearl who’s powers get dampened in the Life Series so she doesn’t have an unfair advantage, (same way I HC avians as having their wings bound by code) but what it really leads to is her just not having control and shifting emotionally instead.

In Last Life she stays a human for most of it, though she gets more canine by the end, as normal red life bloodlust makes her lose control and she grows her wolf army. Scott tells her that it’s kind of cute, after she grows a tail overnight. Her fur on her ears and tail is gray, similar to the wolves she keeps as companions and weapons. She asks Grian about it, and he tells her that since they couldn’t disable her shape shifting entirely, the same way he could only bind his wings and not cut them off, it was fine and not breaking any rules, as long as she couldn’t control the form she took. She howls mournfully as she dies in the final fight, and Ren howls too, remorseful at having to kill his friend.

In Double Life she spends most of it as a wolf. Her fur this time, and after, was closer to her own hair color. The wolves are her only companions and she sees herself as more one of them than one of the other players, so it makes sense that her form would look more natural too. It doesn’t help that the red seeps in early, even when she’s technically on green, so the same bloodlust that fueled her transformation last game stays the entire time this one.

The real kicker, however, is that she doesn’t stay a wolf. Once Ren plants that seed in her head of being demonic, it grows into something she can’t stop thinking about. Sometimes she sees people in the corner of her eye when they aren’t there, pointing and laughing and making the sign of horns, index fingers pointed up on either side of their forehead. Sometimes she hears them, always different voices of the other players. Always taunting her, calling her a demoness, calling her evil.

She wakes up once morning and her head hurts awfully. Pearl reaches, hoping that what she knows is there won’t be, and her hands meet horns. Not the little ones Impulse has, but large twisting growths of bone. Impossible to hide. Her wolf tail has disappeared and is replaced by something thin and flattened like a spade at the end. Impulse makes a joke about her stealing his look the next time he sees her and stops laughing when Pearl looks like she’s about to cry. She’s more heat resistant now, ironically. The cold of the snow bites worse. When Scott blows them both up, she feels only the pressure and force of the explosion, and not the flames.

In Limited Life, she stays oddly human. She has a companion, her rage stays within the limits of her normal lives. She tries to make friends. Pearl isn’t a lone wolf, sick and unwanted, and she isn’t a demon, burning and raging. She’s just trying to survive, trying to get BigB to the end. And Pearl puts on her red hoodie, like everyone expects. She tries to mess with people but finds the server has already gone to hell. Only Cleo startles at her appearance. Scarlet Pearl is less terrifying without her horns and glowing eyes. Red Life Pearl in general is less of a threat when she’s not a wolf. After BigB’s death, she cries but does not howl. She grits her death in determination but they do not sharpen. Scott stabs her in the back, literally not figuratively, and there is no tail to get in his way.

The wolf returns to her in Secret Life. She bonds with Mailbox and then Matchbox, makes a pact with Cleo based on the wolves. The Mounders are her pack, she will get at least one of them the win. She has to. She barks happily as she and Gem slaughter people on their camel, reins it in when Gem admits that Pearl is scaring her and begs her forehead not to sprout horns. Pearl howls so mournfully when Joel dies that it hurts her own ears. She hopes Scar does not notice the way her tail wags in their final fight, hopes he does not realize she is only playing, that he is going to win this fight no matter what.

In Real Life, she is so disoriented by the odd setting that she takes a form she’s never had before in the games, though it’s one she takes often outside of them. The familiarity of being a moth grounds her, her antennae shockingly useful for balance. Scott is the only one who comments on it, he’s not seen her as a moth since Legacy and the Hermits of the bunch are more used to it. She lets him touch her wings, fragile as they are and tries to remember when their friendship didn’t feel like a pink healed wound, no longer painful but still sensitive and visible.

In Wild Life, she once again defaults to a wolf form. She’s on high alert, constantly. Her ears swivel around, hearing noises at every corner, always prepared for a fight with whatever comes out of the wild card. And then she talks to Gem, and finds that whenever she does, her form shifts into the demon once again. Gem sees what she did in SL as evil and unforgivable, and apparently her shift is more than happy to comply with it, the same way it had with Ren. If she’s going to be hated, they may as well be right. It’s just one more thing for Gem to point to as proof that Pearl has done something wrong, and Pearl knows Gem is playing, that Gem is making drama on purpose, but it still hurts. She always goes back to being a wolf an hour or so after their conversations.

She gets wings for one session, when they all have superpowers. They’re white feathered and quite large, nothing she would have made herself, as she tends towards wings meant for speed and maneuverability. Of all of the involuntary shifting she has done in the games, this feels the oddest, since it’s a form she would never go for even on instinct. It isn’t until Grian grabs her power to demonstrate that she realizes it’s because Grian based her power on his own wings, just white instead of his colored bands. She’s grateful when the powers wear off and she’s back to being a wolf. When Impulse and Gem die, Pearl barely has time to register it. And when the wild cards go dead for the final fight, Pearl doesn’t even realize that she’s a full human until she dies and spectates her own corpse. In all of her exhaustion from all of the wild cards being active at once, her body hasn’t bothered shifting into a hybrid form.

[winterandwords]

📝 Camp Nano April 2023: Afterword

I'm trying to articulate this while still celebrating 420, so it might not make a huge amount of sense and will probably be riddled with typos, but here goes.

I realised doing Camp Nano that while having word goals, even low and arbitrary ones, is something I genuinely enjoy and benefit from at times, it gets in the way of an aspect of My Writing Process™ that I hadn't pinned down until just there now.

I kind of edit as I write, or at least I'll often get a bit of a scene down and then come back later and add to it, fiddle with it, move things around, dig into the details etc. This isn't a perfectionism thing (yeah, that surprised me too). It's a discovery thing. And it serves a huge purpose.

A lot of the time, those scenes don't even end up in the book in any way close to how they started life, but they contain moments and interactions that tell me so much about my characters and it happens pretty much organically to the point of being surprising to me.

Like there's this one scene in Project Aria where Aria and Rafe are getting ready to go somewhere and do [crime]. I have no idea where they're going or why. I don't know what [crime] is. But the conversation they're having while they get ready is pulling out so much nuance in both of their trauma, how they relate to each other and other people in general because of it, and what seems to be a high speed snowball effect of a platonic connection dynamic.

None of that stuff happened while I was counting words. I wrote the shell of the scene in the way I do when something first arrives in my head, mostly dialogue with what are basically stage directions so I remember what I meant when I come back to it. But the stuff that matters arrived later when I let go and fell into it and swam in it and started to see the details more clearly.

If I do Camp Nano in July, I think I'll set a goal for minutes rather than words (one minute per counted word on the website, maybe?) and see what happens when I'm focusing on giving time to a project without any other goal.

Right now it feels good to have Done Words, but I need to let the other stuff happen for a while. The daydreamy stuff. The as-I'm-falling-asleep stuff and the while-I'm-doing-laundry stuff. Because I think that's where the important parts of the story actually come from, for me.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

quick note: i wrote this back in 2018 after meeting sebastian in greece but i redited it now, so if you see any mistakes or typos please tell me :)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

part: 2/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

It’s Monday when they come back from their small trip to the south. You’re watering the jasmine in your balcony when you hear the engine of Argyris’ car slowly shut down and see two figures getting out of the back seats.

It’s him and a blonde woman. You remember meeting her that night in the terrace. You’ve learnt that she’s a great actress and will play the other main character in the film.

When she notices you looking at them, she waves.

“Hey, Sebastian it’s your friend there.” She gives his shoulder a soft nudge.

We’re not friends. That’s what you almost yell back at her.

His head shots up, smiling.

He’s always smiling. It’s getting annoying.

You can see him going through his bag as he calls your name.

“Look, I brought you some traditional sweets.” He’s holding a small wrapped up package. He starts wiggling it in the air.

He looks so jolly and proud of himself. It makes your throat dry.

And before you can control it, you laugh. You can’t see it from where you’re standing but he bites his bottom lip at the sound.

/

Two hours later he’s sitting in your kitchen devouring half of the pastries he got you.

“These are actually so good, how can you not like them?” He says and it comes out all garbled. His mouth is full of sugary dough.

You do like them. But he does too. And you can find them anytime you want here. You doubt it’s the same in New York.

“They’re just not my favorite,” he nods “but thank you anyway.”

“Well let’s say you owe me,” you furrow your brows in confusion “and will repay me by sending me some of those once I’m gone.”

He laughs before taking another bite.

And as you stare at him, you notice that he’s different. His gaze is tranquil, his voice is soft and he has some cream at the corner of his lips.

Like that, he looks more like a guy you met at college than a well known actor.

Like that, we could be friends, you think.

You talk a lot. He tells you about his time in Romania and his first audition. It makes you realize you are far more interested in acting than what you thought. You tell him how you think team Iron Man is the superior team. He gasps, as if he is hurt.

He doesn’t mention his girlfriend. You don’t ask about her. It’s easier for both of you this way.

/

A stifling heat rises to your body as you walk under the burning sun. You don’t realize how Argyris gets you to give Sebastian a tour around the city, but you can remember a pair of light eyes pleading you.

You can easily hear him humming to himself. You turn to look at him. He’s wearing a hat and his forehead is sweating. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re in a very good mood today.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well I’m stuck with you for the day so what choice do I have?” You shrug.

He makes a face at you. You crack and a huge smile forms in your face.

He leans closer, mouth to ear and then he speaks.

“You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or just like me too much.”

His breath hits your cheek.  

You try not to blink at the sudden foreign touch.

His words find your skin and they’re so clear and powerful. Suddenly you’re an open page to him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for an answer, a nod, a glance.

You are still standing close, the city sounds doing nothing to ease the heated silence between you two.

He realizes you’re not going to give him any response so he lowers his eyes.

And then, when he looks up again, it almost feels like he gives you mercy and agrees to let you get away with it this time.

He smiles.

“So where is Acropolis?”

/

When he’s lying on your couch after six hours of being a tourist and under the summer sun he looks exhausted. Still he’s his typical talkative self.

“You are always so pumped.”

“And you rarely are.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask each other at the same time. It seems like you are two different sides of the exact same coin. One body. One heart.

“Today was nice.” He stretches his arms. “Thank you.”

You open the window. There is barely any wind out there. The air smells of hot cement and flowers.

The man on your couch has closed his eyes, breathing softly.

You try to ignore him over and over for the last days. Until you cannot ignore him anymore; your world has come to an end.

So many people know who Sebastian Stan is.

Only few will ever know him like this; falling asleep on a cheap brown couch with his hair messy, his chest rising and falling and his mind empty of thoughts.

These are photographs of your memories now.

An involuntary smile spreads across your face at the thought.

You see him swift and his hand clenches tightly around a throw pillow.

“Stop looking at me like that you creep,” he says.

“Come closer,” he means.

/

The sun is long gone and he’s still asleep when there’s a knock on your door. It’s Argyris.

“Please tell me he’s here.”

You nod and motion towards Sebastian’s drifted away body.

“When I left you this morning, I didn’t actually think you’d last this long together.” He tells you the moment he sees him.

The words fall out of his mouth too easily for your liking. “But I should have known better.”

You don’t understand much. You take a step out of your door. You don’t want to wake him up.

“Do you know how many times he mentioned you while we were away?’

Everything stops and falls quiet in the hall.

The words choke you. You shake your head.

“I need you to be smarter than him.” He says and touches your shoulder. “His world moves too fast for people like us.”

It’s effortless not to look at the man in front of you. It’s hard not to shallow his saying.

/

He wakes up an hour later. He looks at you and it feels sacred. His eyes are still red and the pillow has left a mark on his left cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep here.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it was rude, you should have yelled at me to wake up or something.”

“But you looked tired.”

You carry on with doing the dishes and you hear the couch squeak as he stands up and steps towards you.

The water is refreshingly cold on your skin and the soap smells like lemon.

His hands find your waist and his touch is burning. You wish he disappears. You wish he stays for the night. You don’t even know what you’re wishing for anymore. He comes closer and rests his head on top of yours.

And then he wraps his arms around you and you get flashes of days and nights where there was not enough air for you to breath and your ribs ached.

His action is not so noble. It feels like his body steals all the rationality you have. But it gives you this feeling that there will be no more starless skies at night. And that’s enough for now, so you don’t complain.

His skin feels soft and he smells of sweat and vanilla. Somehow you find that alluring.

He looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to memorize your face. And then he pulls away completely silent.

You try to understand what he’s thinking but he gives nothing away. You were never good at reading people.

You blink and he’s almost out of your apartment.

“Goodnight” he shouts.

“Goodnight” you whisper.

/

You close the window. You wonder how he will spend the night. He probably won’t sleep soon. He just woke up.

But you can’t sleep either.  You just move around in your bed. You sink into the sheets and try to close your eyes.

Your phone buzzes.

He follows you on Instagram.

I need you to be smarter than him.

You go through his profile. You want to think he’s doing the same. You want him to do the same.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

You sigh. Perhaps there could have been a time when you would have stayed away from him, but you can’t pretend to ignore it for much longer. And you’re scared of it. And you’re scared of him.

But you’re more scared of how hard it’s for loneliness to fade. And you wish this doesn’t end like a greek tragedy.

/

One day of the following week you go out for coffee. The curly haired woman comes with you. You don’t understand why. And while you’re adding more sugar to your espresso, she tells him she loves his acting. She uses all kinds of adjectives to describe it; hopeful and poignant, celestial.

You like the way she talks. She sounds beautiful. You almost envy her abundance of words.

But Sebastian stops listening.

He watches the way your fingers wrap around the sugar box. He can see your nerves and your synapses move underneath your skin and he thinks he’s watching a dance show.

He will never tell you, but it’s then; under the morning sun and with sugar in your hands, that he feels his heart beat with the power of cymbals for the first time.

He thinks you don’t have to know.

He’s wrong.

You learn the girl is an actress herself. They’ll be in the movie together. They look stellar together.

Looking at them, gives you a violent feeling that wrenches your stomach around.

You can’t hate her for that. You feel like it’s more your fault than hers. That feeling however, grabs you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go. You try not to let it show.

But for some reason when Sebastian almost touches your palm, you look at her and you’re certain this is entirely mutual.

You make a silent agreement to not include him in any of this.

/

“You were extremely quiet earlier.” He says as you reach the building you call home.

He wants to spend time together until his scheduled shooting. You don’t complain.

“You always say that.” You try to joke. He looks right at you.

And then you notice that his eyes aren’t the color of the sea. They’re more grayish blue. They’re like a frozen lake in December.

“I know,” he starts messing with his hair “But you can’t deny you barely talked back there.”

When you enter your apartment, he immediately throws himself on your couch. These last few days it feels like he owns that right spot there in front of your big window.

“I’ve told you, I talk when I have something to say.”

He smiles at your words.

“Then I must be lucky you talk to me.” He whispers softly.

You sit next to him. If you move a little closer you could touch him, feel his warmth. You don’t.

You never thought of how easy it has become to talk to him. You don’t keep your thoughts locked and your teeth clenched around him. And that’s a novice feeling for you.

You let your eyelids fall close and lay back.

There’s a language between you two. It starts with secret glances and whispers and now it contains words that build and ruin bodies and souls.

Sometimes you want to say them all together. Sometimes you just want to open your mouth and let everything flow out but then you’re scared you’ll make him mad. Or you’ll make him love you.

You can’t decide which is worse and that’s enough to stop you.

“What is this thing between us?” He sounds all tender-like, but his blood feels heavy at the moment. He’s not sure if he can keep breathing. He regrets the words that leave his lips, when it’s already too late.

You have the answer figured out long time before he asks. But you’re not ready to give it to him.

“I don’t know” you open your eyes “I don’t know.” You repeat.

/

He doesn’t tell anyone but sometimes he feels nauseous before a shooting. You can clearly see that now. His pacing up and down the room and his roaming eyes give him away.

You are surprised. You never thought he could be nervous. He looks so confident and radiant all the time; you sometimes forget he is still a regular human being.

“You have no reason to worry.” His lips twitch.

“I know.”

“But you still worry.”  You grin and catch his arm to stop him from moving.

The look he gives you is acute.

“You have no reason to be sad,” he starts, without breaking eye contact “but you still are.”

You feel naked and hug yourself close.

It’s very strange to have someone scratch everything from you and see your raw truth. You’re not certain it’s something you enjoy. You wish it didn’t make you quiver.

Sebastian wishes he could scratch deeper under your dermis and your fingernails and slither there between your muscles and your heart where blood runs thick and melancholy hasn’t conquered yet.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t say anything hurtful.”

You worry your words may come out bitter. You don’t want that.

“It won’t last forever.” he says and then your name appears in his tongue. You like the way he says it. It almost sounds like poetry. “You won’t be sad forever.”

You smile and, in that moment, you aren’t a worldwide known celebrity and a girl in her early twenties. You are just two people seeking comfort.

/

The same night there’s a party for the first day of shooting. You don’t feel like going, but he doesn’t let you stay home.

What did you do last night?

Went to a party with Sebastian Stan, typical Thursday night.

You can picture the look on everyone’s face. It makes your lips turn upward just a little.

“I told you to be careful.” The voice sounds almost far away but your neighbor is standing right next to you as he mutters.

“I am.” You say with a laugh. He crosses his arms.

“No, you are here, watching him starry-eyed.”

Your fingers start playing with the rough fabric of your dress.

“I don’t know how to stop it.” You whisper.

He tells you to not entail yourself in something you don’t know the way out of. But what does he know about solitude and rushed breaths?

What does he know about a pair of eyes that look like a frozen lake?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

/

He’s watching you from afar while you talk with Argyris. He notices how your chest moves along with your breathing in a way it looks like it’s made of pure glass.

For a while he thinks of staying there and keep observing you but then Argyris leaves and you’re all alone. And he starts walking closer to you.

All eyes are on him as he goes through the main dance floor. The curly haired actress stops moving to the beat and follows him with her gaze.

They both reach you.

And you know he’s moving towards you before you can see him. It’s like your body is aware of his presence madly fast.

His eyes seem darker under the hazy light.

He grabs your hand.

You almost heave.

“Let’s get out of here.” He breaths.

/

You walk for some time. It’s late and Athens is quiet around that time. There is only a soft broken sound of cars and you think about that time you saw a car crash happen in front of your eyes.

You sit close in an old dirty staircase in a forgotten back alley. The city has a lot of those, but people don’t notice. They just walk past them, always in a hurry.

Sebastian sighs heavily. He looks at you in a way it makes you think he’s trying to memorize everything. The way midnight air caresses your body, the way red lighting falls in your hair from that street lamp. He looks at you for an indefinite and long period of time and it feels exquisite.

You place your fingers on his palm and the world flickers. He’s still wearing the rings they gave him for the movie and they feel cold against your skin.

“Do you ever miss Romania?”

The question startles him.

“Every day.”

You nod. Maybe he knows more about sorrow than you give him credit for.

“I remember the dog fence and our neighbors’ daughter and the orange sky through my window, minutes before sun set.”

Your hand locks around his and you stay silent for a while.

“This is the Lyra constellation.”  His eyes light up as he looks up.

You remember reading about how much he’s into space. It’s intriguing.

“Where?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead he picks it up and guides it with his own. His body moves closer. There’s no cold in the air.

As your eyes search for the stars that your hands point at, he watches you and he’s certain that one day he’d love to lay on his back, with you on his side and show you all the little dead planets in the sky. Show you the secrets of the universe.

And he feels like this is the type of beauty that musicians try to write songs about.

“Ah!” Your grip becomes tighter and you smile. “I can see it!”

He laughs at your childish enthusiasm.

You laugh too.

And then you let your head fall on his shoulder, your hair touching his bare skin. You don’t blame them for making him wear sleeveless shirts for the film.

You can him feel shudder at your sudden motion, but then he exhales and his muscles relax.

He observes the features of your face from this angle. He almost traces them with his fingers.

“They’re probably going to kill me for stealing you away from the party.” You whisper.

“I think I was the one who grabbed your hand and left.” He laughs again and you can feel his chest pounding.

His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. He closes his eyes.

“Δείξε μου όλα τα αστέρια. ”

He doesn’t understand a word but your voice sounds too close. You feel too close. And that’s almost tearing him apart.

“What does that mean?”

You turn to look at him. The neon sign on the old building behind him keeps trembling.

“It means, show me the stars.”

And he does. And he feels like he could burn alive.

And you will never tell him; but you still think of him when you catch a glimpse of burning stars.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OHSHC: Mitsukuni (Honey) x Fem!Reader Fluff

A/N: Okay so this was something I wrote WAY back in 2013 when I was obsessed with Ouran Highschool Host Club. So I did make a bunch of revisions (like fixing typos and changing up some of the events that occur).

But if you wanna read the original check it out on my DeviantArt!

Welp, hope ya'll enjoy this!

It was a lovely Friday afternoon. School was out and most students were eager to go home. 

But you, on the other hand, decided to visit the Host Club for a few hours. You always looked forward going to it everyday after school, though not just because you desperately wanted to be swooned by handsome men.

You just liked to observe the hosts indulging in their element, be it Tamaki’s flamboyant acts or the Hitachiin twins’ performances. All the while, you drank tea and ate delicious pastries whilst chatting with other ladies who babbled about their crushes.

Most had their eyes on Tamaki, for obvious reasons, but for you there was a different host that stole your heart every time, without fail:

Mitsukuni, or “Honey” as everyone liked to call him. 

You did have a slight crush on him, considering you both shared classes and hung-out quite often on the weekends. But even after all the years you’ve known him, you never actually acted on this crush, not wanting to take away his duties as a host.

Besides he might treat you extra “sweetly”, but you assumed he was like this with all the other girls.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Honey didn't see you the same way as he saw them. To him you weren't just another visitor to entertain.

He saw you as something, well, more.

........

'Okay this wasn't...what I expected. But I guess I'll have to stay for a little while longer..' You sighed as you looked down at the blonde who was now laying on your lap.

Honey must've had a sugar crash, since he fell asleep on the same sofa you so-happened to be on, even though the club meeting had ended fifteen minutes ago.

'Poor guy must be tired, running around and entertaining..he deserves at least this.' Relaxing back against the sofa, you gently stroked his hair with one hand, and kept Usa-chan wrapped around your free arm. You were sure he wouldn't mind it, given that he's let you hold it before.

All the while, you hummed a gentle song, taking note of the tiny smile that adorned his sleeping face. You knew very well that you shouldn't move, but you didn't mind it. 

Being able to get this close to him made it worthwhile.

Haruhi, Mori, and Kyoya would glance over every so often while they were cleaning up, smiling at the scene. Meanwhile, Tamaki and the twins were hiding behind a nearby couch, looking at you with comically-wide eyes. They wondered how you've managed to not wake up Honey at all, and how you were so calm.

You looked over and gave them a bemused smile, waving politely. Honestly you didn't know what their deal was. They were staring at you like you were about to invoke the wrath of god.

Or in this case the wrath of the loli-shota.

"H-How does [y/n] do that?" The frenchman stammered as he gazed at the twins.

""It must be Nekozawa's sleeping magic. Maybe she's in cahoots with him."" The brothers replied, trembling too.

"You guys are acting insane." Haruhi sighed as she walked past the three with a porcelain tray in her hands. "She’s known Honey-senpai for years, so..it's obvious they're close. Doesn’t take a genius to know why she’s not afraid of him.”

"But why does she keep choosing him every time she visits?!! A-Am I somehow unworthy?!!" Tamaki cried out, already tearing up. "It makes no sense!! Mommy!! What do you make of this?!!" He swung his head to the already-annoyed Kyoya.

"Tamaki..our job here at the club is to make every girl happy, right? That includes Miss [L/n]-"

"B-But-But..she could at least give me a cha--!!"

"If you'll let me finish..." The black-haired male huffed. "Like every girl here, she has the right to choose whichever host she desires. You don't get to make that decision for her. So I suggest you keep it down, lest you wake up Honey-senpai." Fixing his glasses, he turned back to his laptop, ending the conversation.

Tamaki pouted in defeat and got up from his hiding spot. The twins followed him to where you sat and crouched down, now more curious than fearful.

"Gentlemen." You sighed quietly, waiting for them to get to the point so they could leave you alone.

"How are you able to keep so calm??" Hikaru hissed.

"We told you how he acts when his nap is disturbed.” Kaoru added. “You’re taking a big risk-”

“You’re overreacting a bit.” Finding it hard not to chuckle at their bewildered expressions, you kept your gaze on Honey instead. "I see no reason to be terrified of him waking up from a nap. People get cranky after naps all the time. But they eventually get over it, don't they?"

Then you glanced back up at the three, smiling reassuringly. "I do believe that little “horror story” you told me. But don't worry, if anything happens I'll protect you guys, okay? Nothing bad will happen to anyone here...especially not Honey.” You patted the sleeping blonde’s head.

The twins were relieved--moved, even--by your response, but Tamaki on the other hand seemed a bit freaked out by your promise to protect them. He tried grabbing your shoulders to yell about how “guys should protect girls, not the other way around”, though the duo managed to restrain him.

"B-Boss!! Cut it out!"

"You're gonna wake him!!!"

Unfortunately, the commotion they were making was exactly what stirred Honey from his rest. The three hosts immediately retreated back to their hiding place, expecting their fellow club member to awaken in rage.

But all he did was open his eyes and rub them tiredly. 

"Morning, Hon." You chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly.

As he realized you were still in the same spot as before, he smiled up at you. "Did I really sleep all night, [y/n]-chan?"

"No, only for a little while." You allowed him to sit up, and you handed him Usa-chan. "Have any good dreams?"

"Hmm..yeah, I did." Honey took his rabbit plushie, legs swinging as he tried to recall the details. "I..we were at a fair with lots of cake and ice cream! Then I...o-on the ferris wheel I might've..." He hugged the rabbit closer, to the point of hiding his blushing face.

You tilted your head in curiosity. "Might've what?"

"A-Asked you out and..and k-kissed you."

His response stunned you, and you could feel your heart skip several beats. In truth you've had similar dreams, although you never did get to the kissing part--instead you'd wake up with disappointment, never knowing if he accepted your confession.

"You know I dreamed of that, too. But..I never knew what your answer would be." You sighed despondently. "No matter how much I try to fall back asleep..I can't finish that dream. It's a shame.."

He shyly looked up at you, and he set down Usa-chan before taking your hands into his own. You gazed at him with surprise, wondering what he was going to do. "Honey? What-?"

His face inched closer to yours, and before you knew it, he kissed you perfectly on the lips.

Yep! Right here and right now he was kissing you!

The kiss tasted sweet, much like his personality and all those desserts he's had throughout the day. And you were in shock that this was really happening, but you smiled into the kiss, wanting to return it before he got the wrong idea.

When you both broke apart, Honey's eyes were large and tearful. But they were happy tears. "Y-You really do like me? But..I-I thought...I was too-"

"Honey, there's nothing about you that I don't love." You chuckled. "You're a good-hearted, smart, strong, and kind man. And that's all I could ever ask for. We've been great friends for a while and...the fact we share the same dreams must mean something."

"Something like...u-us being a couple, right?"

"Exactly, and right now..I wanna make those dreams a reality. Will you help me make them so?"

He was so overjoyed that he embraced you tightly, nearly crushing your spine. But you hugged him back, resting your chin on top of his head. You could feel his vigorous nod and knew that this is what he wanted for so long.

Of course he was probably still worried about his position as a host, so you looked to the others in question. "A-Ah..I meant to ask-"

"I see no issue with this," Kyoka smiled lightly. "I trust that this newly-blossoming relationship will not interfere with club activities."

""We knew you two were gonna get together eventually."" The twins spoke in unison once more, although they were just glad that Honey didn't snap at anyone this time.

Haruhi and Mori only flashed smiles at you two, the latter happy about his cousin finally confessing to the one he loved. He’s known about it longer than anyone at the club.

Once you let go of Honey, he jumped up and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. "Takashi!! Can [y/n] come over for the weekend??"

"Sure, why not?" The tall male nodded.

"Yaaaay--huh? Tama-chan?" Honey blinked as he noticed the only one who didn't react positively was the club leader himself, who was sulking in the corner. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Yes..I'd say we're all done here," he sighed in an exasperated tone. "If [y/n]'s happiness lies with Honey-senpai then...that's how it is, I guess. The host club is dismissed. You’re all free to leave now."

Of course, that wasn't the kind of send-off anyone expected. But the other hosts left, figuring Tamaki would eventually get over it. Though you told Honey to wait outside for a moment, not wanting to end this day on a sour note.

You reentered the now empty music room, seeing the princely-type staring out the window solemnly. Part of you felt guilty for not spending more time with him, even though he was often a nuisance trying to steal your attention.

"Hey, Tamaki-senpai..I have a feeling I somehow offended you by choosing Honey over you. And I'm sorry-"

"Nonsense." He glanced back at you, the brightness returning to his violet eyes. "I'm so obsessed with trying to charm every lady that it turned me into a blind fool. Until now I never realized that, in the end, it's what makes you happy, not me. I won't get in the way of your relationship with Honey-senpai. Cross my heart."

He made a gesture to seal that promise, smiling softly. "I mean it. I'm very happy for you two and I wish you all the best."

Knowing that he wasn't angry or upset anymore, you smiled and rewarded the "king" with a peck on the cheek. He gasped lightly and stared at you, touching the spot where you kissed him.

"Thank you. It's because of you and this club that I got to know Honey even more so...I owe you at least this. Have a good weekend." You winked before you turned on your heel and ran after your new boyfriend, leaving an incredibly flustered Tamaki alone in the room.

'Ahaha..her heart may belong to another, but she took the time to repair mine.’

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Controversial thought: Genshin's overall story, including side stories or character stories, aren't continuously good. What I mean is that the stories, even the main story, are hit or miss. Like the Inazuma quest wasn't that well executed, but the Shadows amidst Storms event was one of the best that Genshin made so far. And I'm not sure if it's just me but I fee like lot of the female character's stories feel a bit lackluster compared to the male characters. Mihoyo probably doesn't care as they know they're players will be happy with good looking waifus and husbandos.

Genshin is a really well made game but, in my opinion, it's been kinda lacking since Liyue, though it has only been out for a little over a year so we'll see how it goes. Since Genshin is Mihoyo's biggest money maker, it might fall into the "Disney-syndrome", where the company gets so much wealth and attention that they start making content that usually isn't as good because of their large following. (Though seeing the continuing success with Honkai it's probably unlikely, but at most, in the future, there will be a decrease in attention).

I agree with everything you said anon.

Also this post might have typos because I suck at spelling and autocorrect is not always my best friend.

Mihoyo has good ideas, really good ideas - but they *suck* at excuting them. Like... Wow. Horrible honestly. The general story and idea that is genshin is a *good idea* but the way they write it, the way they execute said story is just plain awful. There are loop holes throughout the story and while I know many stories have loop holes, it's a problem when it just... Doesn't make any sense.

For example, the entire vision thing with Kazuha and his friend - how did he activate the vision? Why did the vision come back to life? Why did that vision light up at that moment when he saved the traveler? Why did it go back to being blank after he pushed the Raiden back???

Because he went against Raiden? Is that why the vision came back to life??

Not only that, but the way they wrote the Raiden Shogun (the puppet) and the way they wrote Ei was just so fucking awful. Kokomi was shit too - these women had so much hype surrounding them. We were told ei was this strong warrior - which she is and I loved that cut scene in her story where she fights Kamaji - but in the end all we got was... UwU waifu.

That's the extent of the personality mihoyo *chose* to show us on screen. Obviously there is more to her character but mihoyo isn't showing or making much reference towards her other characteristics aside from "bad ass samurai" and "uwu waifu"

Kokomi, unfortunately fell into the classical "overworked maiden" category. In her story she literally falls asleep due to exhaustion. And her 'amazing' strategy skills aren't really... That... Amazing... We just ended up fighting the fauti in the end despite her giving us like 3 options of how to carry the plan out. We are *told* she's a good, no an amazing strategist but we are never *shown* that she is one.

don't tell us how amazing her skills are mihoyo, *show us*.

And not to mention her voice is so fucking annoying. As someone with a high pitched voice I am allowed to say this-

But on a more serious note, they're going for the innocent looking girl who's actually a bad ass route with Kokomi. And they failed. Horribly. Her design is very nice don't get me wrong, I love it, but I don't like Kokomi as a character.

And going back to Ei... Is no one gonna point out how her actions were simply... Brushed under the rug??? And by that, I mean the characters in game, not counting the soldiers from Kokomi's force. Now that's what I want to see. SOMEWHAT.

They didn't want to continue the war because of what the Raiden Shogun/Ei did to them. They wanted to continue the war because they wanted to fight.

And honestly, one of the best written female characters that are not the 3 smol ones is Sara. My beautiful Sara.

She's one of the most realistic ones imo. She doesn't fall into "overworked waifu" that we've been getting so far - or I could be wrong, I haven't read her character story yet. But I like what they show us about on her on screen.

AND YES ABOUT MIHOYO NOT GIVING DEPT TO THEIR FEMALE CHARACTERS DEPTH.

I had an entire conversation with a friend about how... Bleak the female characters' stories are. How bleak their personalities can be. They don't have the same depth as the male characters do. They're not as unique as their male counterparts. They're either overworked or uwu waifu.

Now, the female characters can and do have good lore. But it's never explored much if at all.

And going back to Ei for the 100th time... How and why did the traveler forgive her that easily??? They saw what she done to her Nation, be it directly or indirectly. They saw the suffering. The deaths. They saw how broken it was as a nation... And then suddenly they're besties in her character story????

No.

Give me the Rage, the hatred, the grudge the traveler would feel after finding out how she actually views her people - she doesn't have her people's future in mind, but rather just the land. Idk if that makes sense. But while playing her story and obviously the main storyline, That's the vibe I got.

I wanted the citizens to hold it against Her. I wanted the citizens to bring it up while she was walking - "why did you hold the vision hunt degree? " "why did you take away my vision/my friends vision", etc. I wanted THAT, not "omg it's the Raiden omg I'm about to jizz in my pants at the mere sight of her"

I wanted a fucking riot okay. I wanted to hear, to see the citizens frustration once they saw her.

Also, about the newest event with albedo... It was amazing. But I think it was only amazing because it was *Albedo* and not some female character who was the lead. Because whenever the female character is the lead of some story, it either feels like a date or some "uwu take a break" kinda thing.

Now I can't talk for the moon chase event because I couldn't do it. I didn't finish a side quest that involved some character for the event and I am still stuck on said quest. It's uh the one where you need to look for geo shards or something. I will watch a video of the moon chase soon tho. All ik is that gouba was a god once and gave up everything to save his people.

The bear was written better than Ei and Kokomi from what I've heard.

One more thing before I finish off in the the next sentence: not all the female characters are written poorly but the majority of them are.

I probably went off track a lot and I have so many more things to say, but I'll just end it with this: yes anon, I completely agree with everything you said.

[anistarrose]

2, 3, 8, 12, 19, 30!

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

Oh god. I think I could do it, but it's actually embarrassing at this point how fast my typing has gotten while my handwriting speed and neatness have degraded. I'd take a phone keyboard over writing by hand tbh, and I am not a fast texter at all. My handwriting's just that bad!

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

Recently I've had a hell of a time writing unless it's either right after I ate something, or right after I got out of the shower. I have no clue how or when I started conditioning myself into this. I don't know how to stop. If you see a really good line in any of my fics, just know there's like a 70% chance I wrote it in my pjs. This will probably remain the case for quite some time.

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

I've written at least one no-dialogue fic before! ...If a teensy tiny 350-word character study counts. But tbh I wrote that one within my first few months in the TAZ fandom and it's still a headcanon I like a lot, so I totally count it.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

one: the ability to be a fair judge of the quality of my own writing, even when normally my opinion would be clouded by looking at the damn thing for way too long

two: the ability to catch every typo before posting

three: the ability to satisfactorily finish the one specific WIP I started in early 2021 that's 90% done but far too dear to me to post if it's anything less than perfect

19. was already answered!

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

I can't think of an example off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure I've taken inspiration from dreams before... it's usually pretty vague though, because my ability to remember dreams is pretty low. More often, my good ideas that actually make their way into writing are things I think of right before I fall asleep!

[oscquinn]

Simple Gifts || Frankie Morales

Pairing: Frankie Morales x gn!reader

Summary: You and Frankie had agreed to focus on your kids and not to get each other anything this Christmas, but your husband apparently had other plans.

Warnings: a couple of swear words, unedited bc ive got a lot going on rn, so typos probably

A/N: The working title for this was Jimservice get it, like fanservice akdgjsgfd because the target audience for this fic is just Jim. So i hope you enjoy it my dude!!

Wordcount: 711

cute lil frankie gif by @conveniently-available

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx

Afternoon sun shone in through the blinds, casting the kitchen in a warm glow. You were tackling the dishes from Christmas breakfast while Willow and Charlie played outside with some of the neighborhood kids. You had just finished scouring the last pot when Frankie's arms wrapped around your middle. 

"I know we said we were gonna focus on the kids and not get each other anything-"

"Frankie-"

"I know, I know. But in my defense, I’ve been working on this since before we decided that." His chin rested on your shoulder, his face turning slightly to kiss your cheek. His moustache and patchy beard tickled your skin in a warm, familiar way. "Come on, I think you'll like it."

You dried your hands and followed your husband out of the kitchen, catching a glimpse of your two kids out the window as you passed. They're engaged in a neighborhood wide snowball fight, showing no mercy to the neighborhood kids. "Frankie, your son just nailed Katie Bishop in the face with a snowball."

Frankie laughed, "my son? Last time I checked you were the one on the teacher’s softball league. My arm is shit and you know it."

You smiled, poking your head into the door of the nursery as you passed by. Your eleven month old daughter Eleanor was asleep in her crib, her tiny fist curled tightly around a little stuffed bear Frankie had bought for her. "Did she go down easy?" you asked, stepping into the bedroom. 

Frankie was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a gift behind his back. "Yeah, she was out like a light. I think Christmas wore her out." He smiled softly, beckoning you over with a nod of his head. 

You moved to stand between his legs, fingers tilting his chin up towards you. The scratch of his scruff against your fingers felt nice, and you drew him in for a kiss. “I didn’t get you anything,” you murmured.

Frankie hummed, pressing kisses along your jawline. One of his hands tucked itself into your back pocket of your flannel pajama pants while the other remained dutifully behind his back to hide the gift from you. “That’s okay, you didn’t have to.”

“And you didn’t either.” You scratched softly at the back of his head, tucking him under your chin for a moment. He pressed sweet kisses to your neck, then pulled back.

"Yeah, I know. But the day we stop giving each other gifts at every occasion is the day our marriage begins to fall apart, I think." He looked up at you with the most smitten look in his eyes, and you chuckled. After eight years of marriage, he was still as in love with you as he was the day you met. 

"Alright, let's see it then." He pulled the package around and handed it to you with a kiss. You tugged gently at the edges of the paper, never one to ruin wonderfully wrapped gifts. Under the paper you found- "Pride and Prejudice? Babe, I already have a copy-"

"Look inside," Frankie urged. 

You opened the book to reveal a handwritten note on the inside of the cover.

To my partner, my best friend, and the love of my life, I see you in everything, and this book was no exception. So many lines reminded me of you, and of everything I love about you. I can see why it's a favorite of yours.  My love always, Frankie P.S. I wrote in the book, I hope you don't mind :)

A small gasp left your lips and you flipped through the first few pages. Lines were underlined and the margins were adorned with notes in Frankie's messy, familiar handwriting. "You- you read it?"

"And annotated," he grinned. "There's no MLA format essay to go with it but-"

You silenced him with a kiss, gently tossing the book aside and crawling into his lap. He chuckled against your lips, falling back into the bed to keep you from sliding off of him. You giggled softly, breaking the kiss and scooting up the bed so your knees weren't hanging off at an awkward angle. 

"So I take it you like it?" he asked with a cheeky grin. 

"Baby, I love it."

End.

Tagging: @tinyphantomsalad​ hii i hope you liked it

[halpertstuna]

must have been the wind - jj maybank

A/N: this imagine is inspired by the song “must have been the wind” by alec benjamin. i wrote this imagine listening to the slowed version of the song. i highly recommend you listen to it whilst/before/after reading this(:

pairing: jj x reader

word count: 2,874

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, some angst, some fluff, ya know, all that jazz. and probably typos (this isn’t really edited, pls forgive me)

-> masterlist <-

(gif credit: @jjbanks )

It was 1:28AM, you gazed out the window of the moving car, your elbow was placed on the door panel whilst your head rested in the palm of your hand, the dark navy blue moonlit water in the ocean outside was being reflected in your eyes.

You were currently sat in the backseat of a white Honda lost in your thoughts. Your dad got transferred to North Carolina due to him getting a promotion at work, which was a big deal, especially since your mum wasn’t working and so he jumped on the opportunity right away, moving the two of you with him.

Obviously you were happy for him, but you were also kind of glum since it meant packing up your entire life back in Miami and leaving all of your friends behind with everything else that was familiar, warm and felt like home.

You were being pulled out of your thoughts by the car coming to a stop.

You exited the car taking your bag and suitcase with you to the front porch, then retuned to help your exhausted parents with theirs, once you acknowledged they were struggling to keep their eyes open.

The movers were supposed to come in the morning at about 8AM to unload the rest of your belongings.

You had entered the house and your dad lead you to your room, your mum following not far behind, not wanting to be alone in the foreign, empty house.

You set your bags down next to the bedroom door and kissed both your parents goodnight. They went to their room shortly after and fell into a deep asleep right away.

You changed into pyjamas and laid down in bed staring at the ceiling, you were tired but you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep.

After about an hour of just gazing at the fan spinning above your head, your eyes started to flutter shut, and just as you were about to drift off to sleep the sound of glass shattering startled you, making your heart race as the sound echoed through your ears.

You jumped out of bed and ran to your parents room worried, only to find out they were fast asleep.

Where did the sound come from then? And how come your parents didn’t hear anything? Is the tiredness starting to affect your hearing? Did you just imagine it?

You walked back to your room confused and curious as to where the sound came from.

you laid back in bed and quickly fell asleep assuming what you heard was caused by your sleep deprived state, your ears playing tricks on you.

You managed to fall asleep pretty quickly but you were pulled out of your dreams by the sound of two male voices, screaming at the top of their lungs, shooting at each other vitriolic comments.

Now you were sure, you weren’t just imagining it earlier.

You walked towards your bedroom window, peeking out in hopes of seeing something, anything that could give you a clue to whatever the hell is going on at almost four in the morning.

After about five minutes of hearing despicable words roll off someone’s tongue, muffled by the walls yet clear as day the second you let them sink in, you decided to go back to sleep since it’s really not your place, and just as you were about to walk back to your bed, you noticed a tall figure exit the house in a hurry while someone from behind it kept roaring in a resentful tone vile words.

You quickly turned your attention back to the view your window had to offer, watching as what looked like a teenage boy, put a helmet on his disheveled hair, get on a bike and ride off.

And with that, the noise stopped.

You were stood by your window as the quiet night swallowed you whole, the only sound audible now was your breathing.

You laid back in your bed taking in what you had just witnessed.

Who was that boy? Who was the mysterious, scary voice behind the door? why was he yelling such dreadful things at him? And what more was he capable of?

The questions were endless, they haunted your thoughts, knowing you had to find out what was going on, if that boy was okay.

You dozed off not long after, given the fact that you were after a flight and it was really late.

The next morning you were woken up by the rays of sunlight breaking through the glass of your window, resting on your closed eyelids. The realisation that you forgot to shut the curtains last night before you went to bed suddenly hitting you.

It was almost eight. You let out a loud groan and flipped so you were facing the wall, desperate for more sleep.

You barely had time to even try before your mum knocked on your door, your eyes fluttered open, she smiled at you greeting you good morning.

You let out a sigh and sat up, mumbling under your breath “it could be better”.

You got up and brushed your teeth, then went back to your room to get changed. You wore blue jean shorts, a black oversized band tee and white slip-on vans.

you entered the kitchen and noticed your dad making coffee, he handed you a mug filled with the warm liquid, you quickly drank it and set the mug down in the sink, realising he had started unpacking the “fragile - kitchen” box, meaning the mover’s loading truck was already outside.

You got out of the hous and your dad followed, your mum was already helping with the boxes and the two of you joined her and the movers helping them unload the truck.

It was almost nine and you were down to your last boxes, when you heard what sounded like the engine of a motorcycle.

Your head shot in the direction of the house next to yours as you noticed the same bike from yesterday come to a stop at the front porch, a blonde mop of hair was the first thing you noticed once the boy took off the helmet he had on, running his fingers through his hair.

He started making his way into the house, not giving you a single look.

When you finished unloading and unpacking your parents asked you to take out the trash.

You held two big, black garbage bags in your petite hands and started making your way to the bin.

You threw the content in, and just as you turned around the boy exited his house.

The two of you made eye contact and you offered him a kind smile which he mirrored without hesitation.

You started walking towards your house but stopped in your tracks at the memories of last night.

He was sat on his doorstep, a juul in his hand, as he hit it repeatedly.

You started walking towards him.

“Hey” he greeted sending you a smirk.

“Hi” you replied grinning.

As you got closer to him, you were met with the prettiest pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen.

“I’m JJ” he introduced himself taking another hit

“I’m Y/N, I’m new here” you stated suddenly shy under his gaze, taking in how attractive he is from up close.

“Yeah, i kinda figured, I saw the truck here earlier, plus I’ve never seen you around before” he affirmed

You nodded, a comfortable silence fell upon you two.

You were looking him up and down, he was wearing a grey tank top that revived his biceps and kaki shorts with a pair of black boots.

You then looked at the juul he was holding and noticed his knuckles looked slightly bruised, painted in this violet colour. You studied his features slowly before breaking the silence.

“Hey, um I actually wanted to ask you a question” He looked up at you signalling you to continue. “Last night, when I was trying to sleep, I heard glass shattering and other noises, d- did you hear anything?” He averted his gaze from you to the dock in front of him shaking his head no.

You knew he was lying. But you didn’t push him any further, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it he would.

You quickly changed the subject which he was highly grateful for.

The two of you sat there talking for a few hours, you told him about your life back home and he told you about the pogues, the two of you found out you actually have a lot in common, you share the same love for the ocean and surfing, you both would do anything for your loved ones and you both want to travel the world and explore it.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been sat with JJ, talking, until the two of you noticed the sun starting to set in the horizon, painting the sky in the most beautiful shades of yellowish-red slowly followed by shades of violet and blue.

You darted your gaze over to JJ, only to discover his was already on you. You smiled up at him, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, you whispered a “hi” to which he chuckled and shook his head, smiling at how cute he found your softness.

And for the first time since you moved, you felt welcome. And even though it started getting chilly, you felt warm inside, thanks to the humorous boy beside you.

You could hear your name being called from inside the house, telling you dinner’s ready.

You bid your goodbyes and walked back to your house.

You ate dinner with your family then went to bed, this time falling asleep easily since you were exhausted from that day.

At about two in the morning, you had to pee, so you walked to the bathroom half asleep but were quickly snapped back to reality when you heard “I’ll fucking kill you!” bawled with rage.

Your eyes were shot open at the sound of that and you started freaking out a bit. You were really worried but you didn’t want to stick your nose where it didn’t belong, so you decided to let it go.

When you laid back in bed you heard someone ignite a motorcycle and take off, you assumed it was JJ, and again, with that, just like the night before, the noise stopped.

The next day you didn’t see him. You were worried something might have happened but you reassured yourself, assuming he was probably with the pogues. That day was dedicated to helping your parents unpack furniture, cutlery etc.

You went to sleep pretty early given you were in desperate need of it.

You were abruptly woken up by the sound of loud thuds and the words “worthless piece of shit” ringing in your ears as they were being yelled at someone.

You quickly got up and looked out your window, you were concerned about JJ’s well being, assuming he got back home while you were sleeping.

This time you just couldn’t shake the feeling something’s seriously wrong, with that you slipped on your shoes and quickly ran to his house in a panic.

You knocked on the door firmly.

Once it was swung open and you were met with the same pair of blue eyes you saw yesterday, but this time with a bruise under one and a cut under the other.

His eyes softened at the sight of your worried state and you drank him in, searching his face for more bruises.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked now angry “what’s all that noise?!”

JJ looked at you then down at his feet and said “I wish I could tell you but I didn’t hear anything” you were taken aback by his words.

You knew he was playing dumb, and usually you won’t want to intrude but you were far too worried about him.

“Are you serious?” You asked him with wide eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. It must’ve been the wind.” you were dumbfounded by his statement, speechless.

“Thanks for caring, but I have to go back inside, good night.” Your eyes swam with concern as he closed the door. You walked back to your house not wanting to pressure him any further into talking about it since he looked like he was on the verge of breaking.

The next day you went to the beach with your surfboard. You ran into the water, eager to catch some waves when you were met with none other than the “surfing legend” himself, as he liked to say, JJ Maybank.

He was on his surfboard riding a wave as you watched in awe.

Once he saw you he started paddling on his board in your direction.

“Well hello there, how are you enjoying the waters of the Outer Banks so far?” he greeted authoritatively and you giggled at that. “I actually just got here, didn’t really get the chance to ride any waves. But I can’t say the same about you. You’re really good” you commented and a grin spread across his face. “Thanks” he replied.

He sat straddling his surfboard and as he got closer you noticed a giant bruise on his stomach, you gasped at the sight, he didn’t understand at first, then followed your gaze. “What happened?” You asked faintly, reaching out and tenderly tracing the bruise with your fingertips. “It’s nothing,” he scoffed “you should see the other guy” he chuckled awkwardly, but you weren’t buying it.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it,” you started “but just know my door is always open, you can come whenever you’d like for as long as you desire if you ever need a friend” he shot you a watery smile at that invitation and a comforting silence fell upon the two of you.

You broke it by saying “I bet I can catch that wave before you Maybank!” Then started steering away towards the giant wave that was heading your way, “Oh! Bring it on Y/L/N!” He retorted following not far behind.

That day was fun for the both of you, sun, surf and no worries.

When you got home you took a shower and put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a white oversized shirt.

It was getting late and you were beat from surfing and being in the sun all day, you had no trouble drowsing off.

You were sound asleep until you were alarmed by the sound of knocking on your window. You shifted the blanket off your body and got up, your warm feet made contact with the cold wooden floor, waking you up a bit as you approached your window.

You rubbed your eyes trying to make out the face of the blurry figure on the other side of the glass. You quickly picked up that it was JJ and opened the window, letting him climb in.

He didn’t need to say anything, knowing you already knew why he was there. You turned on the the table lamp, then noticed he had a busted lip, and a fresh cut on his cheek.

You were quick to wrap him in your embrace, hugging him dangerously close. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and started crying, tears slid down his cheeks, making the collar of your shirt wet and see through, but you didn’t care. He buried his face in your chest and you held him as tight as possible until he managed to steady his breathing.

You held his hand and intertwined your fingers, leading him to the bathroom without a single word being passed between the two of you. You signaled him to sit in the counter and he obeyed. You started cleaning up his bruises and cuts, bandaging what you could.

After you finished you told him to go back to your room. You went to the kitchen and quickly returned, plopping down on the bed beside him, handing him ice cream, knowing it’s the most comforting thing you could give, other than a hug which followed the deed.

You put on “Iron Man”, trying to lighten the mood with Tony Stark’s humour.

As the credits rolled he opened his mouth “I’m sorry,” he mumbled “for bothering you like this it’s just- I mean- I-“ you cut him off by caressing his cheek with your hand, he leaned into your touch. “It’s okay.” you cooed, a single tear slid down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb, smiling weakly at him “We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, and until you are, we can say ‘it must have been the wind’” you quoted what he’d told you the other day, gaining a smile from him, a real smile, eyes full of adoration.

You pulled the blanket on the two of you up to your chin.

You shut off the light and muttered a “Good night” before drifting off.

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a bit longer than he should’ve.

He murmured a good night before falling asleep as well beside you.

[onyourzeus]

• certainty | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: certainty pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: FLUFF words: 2.6k

author’s note: requested by @strxwberrifields :’) thank you so much for fueling the idea for this prompt. i think i strayed away a little, though, i’m sorry! i hope it is still enjoyable. also, youngk’s cover of when you love someone was playing while i wrote this, it helped set the mood a ton. (listen to it, you won’t regret it)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

there’s something about being in love 

that you can’t put into definitive words 

it’s so sickeningly cliche, you know that

there’s nothing more annoying than hearing 

someone gush about their significant other 

over and over and over— we get it! you’re in a relationship and it’s great and just

don’t rub it in, please 

kidding aside

—you don’t think your relationship with younghyun is like that 

if anything, you feel somewhat lacking in telling him how much you love the guy

dating a pretty famous bassist, idol, vocalist, business admin major—

scratch that. dating someone like younghyun is already out of the ordinary for you 

and so you can’t help but feel… insecure, at times

or feeling left out from his idol circle and the fact that 

you can never bring yourself to fully immerse in it like he does

you don’t blame him!! you never blame younghyun for who he is 

it’s just a bizarre concept to find yourself even crossing paths with the now love of your life

for almost a year, might you add

the thought still sends goosebumps all over your skin

and a silly smile that gets you weird looks when you’re in public 

man, if they knew who that smile was about

who your heart is for

they’d be jealous, duh

or judge you because— 

you? with a guy like him? scoffs 

you should get out of your head sometimes, it’s healthy (try it, please) 

you’re good to younghyun, right? you think you are

a guy like him is smart enough to know what’s good for him… right? 

STOP IT STOP you have a mission to do today

and that’s to bring the very same guy—  

(plaguing your mind and disrupting the rhythm of your heartbeat every waking second)

—his lunch today

it’s just him in the studio; him and his bandmates have been doing their own thing for a few months now

which is a refreshing change of pace for everyone, you heard  

but work is still work; and younghyun is recording yet another single to upload sometime soon

you’re excited, and jealous of how his mind works 24/7

but with that much thinking and execution comes a lot of hunger; and younghyun is not immune to not having an appetite

man’s stomach is the blackhole, anything that goes in there is nowhere to be found

(as if it never came in the first place)

you text him you’re by the entrance, and there’s a lot of typos

“hrre> i hv lunch. its heavy”

you know he won’t respond because there is no second wasted recording; you still do it, anyway 

just in case

you’re greeted by a few people working in the bldg, some of them recognize you already which you’re still shy about 

finally, you enter his studio, careful not to topple over the take out stuff you have in the bag

as expected, younghyun is inside the soundproof room where the ~*~magic~*~ happens, eyes closed and headphones on

immediately, your heart soars at the sight of him. it’s not a new thing for you to see him in his workspace

but it’s always a new feeling to watch how he lets the music flow in his presence

he can’t hear you but you’re careful in taking out bowls of ramen, broth, rice, and other side dishes on the coffee table. he’ll probably be done in a few minutes—

door opening louder than you anticipated

“you’re here!! and there’s FOOD,” younghyun exclaims, the headphones slung around his neck with the cord hanging in midair

you’re shook at his speed, but then again the one thing he loves the most is right in front of him

yep: food 

you laugh, greet him with a kiss on the cheek (that warms your own face up, you’ll never get used to doing that) and let him know about his probably expensive headphones just dangling around

“eh who cares,” younghyun casually shrugs but you keep reprimanding him with an expectant look 

“fine fine, i’ll put them down safely”

“good, have you eaten today?” 

“yep but that was like an hour ago” 

that’s younghyun for you, and you expected it. so you tell him to dig in

“it’s from the ramen place we tried a month ago, thought you’d want some soup since it’s getting colder”

his eyes light up like a kid opening his birthday present which he already knew what would be inside

“this is amazing, babe, thanks!” he reciprocates your kiss on the lips this time: short but sweet 

you squeal, and temporarily feel calm and collected about his “approval” 

you sit next to him, just watching him attack the noodles first, then slurping the broth with utmost grace (spoiler alert: he is chowing down like it’s his last meal)

and yet you’re falling so deeply in love again as you try to picture the image of him happily eating in your mind, framing it and keeping it stored there safely

“you’re not eating?” he asks in between bites of kaarage and takoyaki. it was practically a meal for three

you shake your head. “i ate before coming here” which wasn’t a lie, and he’d know if it was since he’d hear your stomach grumble 

but that takoyaki sure looks tasty… 

“wh—” younghyun shoves one right inside your mouth, chuckling as he watches you struggle to chew it so suddenly 

“you know you wanted some,” he teases. pouting, you finish the takoyaki before trying to defend yourself

but younghyun had something else up his sleeve; or rather he grabs a tissue and dabs it on the side of your cheek

“someone was hungry,” he sing-songs, slanted eyes glinting with amusement

“you have the nerve to say that considering you finished a full course meal!” you sneer at him, feeling his gentleness as he wipes your cheek clean

you keep bantering back and forth like that; it’s natural, it’s what you like about your relationship

he finishes and it hasn’t even been an hour since you got here. someone can study this man’s digestive system and find new wonders of the human body in him 

buuuut you kinda wanna keep younghyun to yourself for now— as much as you can, really, seeing as he’s an idol… 

“that was sooo good,” he sighs, leaning back against the couch with one hand around your shoulders

you rest your head against his, cradling up to his warmth

he’s so cuddly when he’s just finished eating

not to mention

“zzz”

“younghyun, you have a song to record!” you shake him awake, and he’s not kidding either

the man just falls asleep! 

“mm five minutes…” he dozes off, hugging you even closer to him. both arms around your frame this time

now that you’re face to face, you can clearly see the exhaustion smearing his perfect features

without make up on, his eyelids are veiny, there’s a shadow underneath them and his face just physically looks dull 

the more he eases into you, the heavier his body feels sinking into the couch

and your heart sinks with it

younghyun works so incredibly hard— literally every single day, there is no stopping him from creating and doing and sometimes

you just want to tell him to slow down, pause for a moment

it makes your chest tighten, to think that younghyun thinks time is moving so fast for him

that he needs to accomplish so much before time runs out

you lift your hand up and card your fingers through his hair (he had it dyed black recently, and you’re all for it) 

he hums in satisfaction and nuzzles his head against you even further

then, you move your hand over to his cheeks, tracing its height and going over the tip of his nose

boop

and steal kiss 

he can really fall asleep like this, right next to you

you might doze off with him too 

but, just like younghyun, true to his word— 

he’s awake and back into recording mode less than ten minutes later

he stretches like a cat, and leaves you bewildered at the amount of energy he’s recharged himself with in such little time

“you give me energy, what can i say?”

“shut up” 

he tries to clean up the empty bowls and used utensils, but you shoo the musician away

“go. work, i’ll handle this” he knows he can’t argue with you on that

it makes you feel useful to him, somehow, just doing these little things to accommodate for his lifestyle

you wonder if it’s enough

you spend the rest of the afternoon in the studio. while he records and edits and goes back to recording, you brought your laptop to do some work remotely

he lets you hear some of the recorded lines he’s done, and you nod your head all the time and say they sound perfect, they sound like him

he doesn’t really like that

“there’s bound to be something that’s missing. what else would you have liked to hear from this verse?”

he looks so serious, brows knitted, lips curled forward whenever he listens to himself in the audio

you feel bad; you don’t know much about music mixing and all that— plus you’re not lying when you say you like what you hear

but maybe in this area, there’s not much you can contribute in his life 

and these are the moments when you think you fail as an equal partner

younghyun realizes the abrupt quiet in the air as you make yourself feel smaller than you do

“just a little more and i’ll be done for the day,” he tells you, patting your head reassuringly

you give him a meek nod, not meeting his eyes, and go back to some work

at least, you try. for distraction

he sounds disappointed— maybe you need to learn how to analyze beats and harmonies and such next time? 

before you know it, younghyun finishes up and saves his progress

you’ve also fallen asleep a little there while sitting down on the floor, and your head on top of your laptop 

“babe?” 

when you wake up, the take-out bags are nowhere to be seen and your laptop is inside your messenger bag

“can i hang out at your place tonight?” younghyun asks, and you try to regain your senses

“yeah, yeah of course,” you say absent-mindedly, concerned thoughts swirling your consciousness

younghyun doesn’t bring a lot when he goes to the studio, he leaves the instruments in the room and only carries his phone and USB on him

upon exiting the place, he grabs hold of your bag and slings it on his arm

on the other, he invites your hand in his

you don’t say anything, still feel guilty for the incident a while ago, but accept his intertwining fingers

he squeezes yours tight, and gives you a slow, reassuring kiss on the cheek 

“i’m sorry if i pressured you back there,” he apologizes firmly, looking at you straight in the eye

it’s a little intimidating, if you’re being honest 

because when younghyun owns up to something— or even when he’s just determined about his words

he wants you to look at him, and see the truth in what he’s telling you

in retrospect, that’s how you fell in love

as that’s how younghyun confessed his own feelings

but now, he’s saying sorry for something you should be sorry for

before you even feel the tears well up, he has his hands cup your face, rubbing alongside your temples 

the air is still outside, and there’s a faint noise of people chattering, walking, and existing in the world

but what you see is younghyun, and the way he presents you all of who he is at the moment

“it’s not you,” you start off the cliche, so you stop yourself

“i just feel like i don’t do anything…”

“anything?”

“in this relationship… that’s beneficial to you…” finally, words that explain some of your true, insecure feelings

you shut your eyes as tight as you can as to avoid confronting younghyun’s gaze 

he’s quiet

probably mad

possibly about to break up with you

realizing that you’re right

instead, a slight pain on your forehead and you mutter a surprised, “ow.”

“that’s what you get,” younghyun says, seriously but his eyes show that of worry

you pout, and he tries to resist but he can’t so he kisses you

“for thinking the opposite of who you are to me,” he continues, letting go of your face and sliding his fingers in between the crevices of yours once more 

you leave it like that, feeling just a tad bit calmer than before

but younghyun keeps looking at you, poking at your side which causes you to be ticklish

and he knows that 

“you hungry?” he asks once you reach downtown

“just a little,” you say, thinking of what to cook dinner for the both of you soon since he said he’s coming over

“let’s get some galbi,” he urges, tugging you towards the restaurant with the glowing sign

“but you just ate…” you say quizzically, and as if on cue your stomach grumbles

well it has been a few hours for you

but for younghyun, technically he should already be full for the rest of the day!

“c’mon, my treat,” he doesn’t take no for an answer and you guys sit at a table with the stove in the center

for the rest of the night, he grills you your meat 

doesn’t even let you put them on your plate, it has to come from him as you feeds you some of your favorites, galbi, gobchang, hangjusal; the whole nine yards

of course, he’s eating too, and laughing, and making you smile

“room for dessert?” he asks, and you shake your head no too many times

“get yourself some, i know you want to” you tell him, and he’s already calling for the waiter to bring him a mochi or two

he eats it while walking back to your apartment with you; and he seems like such a satisfied kid

you can’t go on throughout the day being all sullen with younghyun; it’s impossible

back in your apartment, you ease into the familiarity of the place

and so does younghyun

you ready some clothes for him that he’s left in your dresser to prepare a warm bath

but he calls you in the living room 

“just a moment, younghyun”

“no no i need you now :(“ 

well, can you resist that tone? no

“what’s up? don’t you want to freshen up first?”

“i want you first” 

:( “okay,” you say as shyly as your pounding heart can let you say

and you’re back in the same position as in the studio, right after he ate

arms around you, and he coaches your legs to rest on his 

basically you’re koala-hugging him on your couch

“what’s this?” you say embarrassed. even in your own goddamn apartment, he makes you feel so many things at once

“being extra clingy”

“i can see that— but why?”

“so you don’t doubt yourself” 

you’re taken aback

“there’s nothing that you need to change or do in front of me, or for me to make me love you more,” he starts off, and there goes his eyes again. staring, watching you. steady, serious but.. calming, in a sense

“because i already love you, so much. for everything that you do for me. all the little things.”

“i love you too,” you whisper, finding it hard to find words to describe how lucky you are to have him

again

but this time, you know he doesn’t mind

just having you right here by him is enough, having him recognize the small yet appreciated gestures that you do

and how he manages to check up on your own feelings so quick, and remedy the sadness just like that

there’s just something about being in love with younghyun

that words can’t express

but this moment with him right now can at least make you feel

that much loved by him too

[bisexualkramer]

3, 7, 18, 22 for the meta fic writers asks!!! 💛💛

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Ohhh my god ok like. Literally any of the lil fics I write in my head to fall asleep would work for this but it’s a scene for a wolfstar (Remus Lupin/Sirius Black) fic  that takes place during the first wizarding war and it’s right after Remus and Sirius break up and it’s like 

“In another world, Remus stops. His hand hovers above the doorknob, trembling, and he takes a deep breath. Then, he turns back to face Sirius. He turns back, and they talk, and Remus tells Sirius about everything- the missions, the instructions from Dumbledore, the werewolves, the feeling of seeing Greyback for the first time since he was attacked- and Sirius marches the two of them to Order headquarters and spends an hour shouting at Dumbledore, and then owls Lily and James to demand that they take Remus as their Secret-Keeper instead, and Lily and James go into hiding, and so do Remus and Sirius, and they fight, and they kiss, and they stay together, and years later they attend Harry’s fifth birthday party and the world is better, and then years after that they open Harry’s owl about his first day at Hogwarts, and on, and on, a hundred moments spent together, spent happy, and all starting here: with Remus’s hand on the knob, with all their secrets bottled up inside, with the truth waiting to shatter between them.

But in this world, Remus steps outside the apartment, and he does not turn back.”

idk that is a VERY ROUGH version of what that would look like. I love stories about breakups, and I think writing a story about their relationship falling apart would be really cool, but I haven’t been in that fandom for a while, and I never finished anything I wrote for it.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

I tend to use run-on sentences but VERY PURPOSEFULLY. I like to use them to convey spiraling thought patterns (bc I get those a lot). I think it also gets very pretentious very easily.

Other people have pointed out that my writing is “cinematic,” specifically in a way where you can tell how shots would be laid out in a movie. I like this. I wish I could do it with more senses than just the visual.

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

I have a lot of stories in me that take place during or after Wives! I had thought about writing a oneshot of Peter’s POV during chapter 12. I also have some ideas for a sequel about picking the kids’ names (and specifically how Peter came to the decision to name one of them Mag, because I have a Whole Reason for that and I’m afraid it comes off kind of Rowling-esque in the work as it is. I also have some sequels about the kids growing up.

As for AUs, idk! I’d love to go back and revisit Happens Great, Happens Sweet and make it into a Last of Us AU, since I kind of have one fleshed out in my brain, but that probably won’t happen. There’s also like six versions of 100 Ways in my brain bc it’s basically just “Maggie writes their ideal Homestuck ending” and that’s changed a lot over the years. If I could redo it, I’d love to add more resolution for Dave and Bro, even if their relationship was never truly repaired.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Veeeeeeery rarely. Sometimes I go back because I forgot what happened. I have reread Something New a couple of times bc I think it’s funny, but I largely don’t like rereading my old writing, usually because I find typos. I think my writing has improved a lot over the past year, as well, so rereading anything before my Magnus Archives stuff sometimes makes me cringe a bit. I think before I do anymore big projects, I’d like to reread some of my old stuff and make note of places where I can improve. That being said, I think writing Wives made a big difference in my writing ability- Peter Enchanted remains one of my favorite pieces of my own writing, and I think my RQBB fic was pretty good!

Thanks for the ask, and sorry for the long answer!

Fun meta asks for writers

[rogue-barnes-16]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

Summary: Natasha Romanoff shows up after two long years to protect the life of the woman she secretly loved for so long.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Natasha Romanoff: @5aftermidnight

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: injuries, fight, probably typos and language?

A/N: I'm giving you this after a long ass day and night. I felt bad cuz I had no time for requests (there was a big ass fire in my town's forests) so I wrote this in like an hour, hope you enjoy <3.

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

I had to do one thing, I had to drop by to pick Vision up in case Wanda didn't agree on staying with him.

I had given Vision a device made with Stark technology that would allow him to send me his location with just pressing a button.

He pressed it, and I dropped as soon as possible, which turned out to be after five minutes.

I was standing on the train station when Wanda and Vision plummeted through the roof and crashed against the floor, and man, was I quick to switch from civilian to Avenger mode.

I was soon standing by their side, checking Vision's injuries and interrogating Wanda about what was happening.

"They’re coming for him." she whispered, distress and fright making her voice tremble.

"what- who?" before Wanda could answer, Vision rushed us to flee the station and the city. "No way I'm leaving. Wanda, go, I'll stay."

Before the sokovian girl could argue, I heard something behind us.

I turned around as fast as possible, and I saw- what the fuck was I seeing? I didn't really know, but they both were huge and I had only my gun and a couple of knives.

I drew out my gun and shot one of them a couple of times. Not so surprisingly, it didn't do much "fuck." the knives it would be, then. "Wanda, get him out of here." I ordered.

"I'm not leaving." she retorted, twisting her fingers to make her powers appear.

We were fucked.

As they stepped forward, a train passed behind the three of us, which caught one of those beings' attention. Following her line of sight, I saw a dark figure standing on the other side, to which that being's trident was thrown.

Seeing Steve Rogers step out of the shadows, holding the same weapon that had been thrown at him was a tremendous relief.

I took advantage of the shock that this caused to our opponents and, now more confident about my survival probabilities, I threw myself at them, using all my skilled movements to attack them.

I put up a good fight with one of them, slicing him with my knives several times, but one single slip-up was enough for him to get the tables turned.

He slammed my head against the ground, and I felt a cold blade against my neck, although I was too dizzy to move or do anything to avoid it from cutting my throat.

In my peripheral view I caught a glimpse of a blond, dark figure, jumping between me and my opponent.

I got up slowly, just in time to watch Natasha digging the trident into the creature's abdomen with such a rage I rarely saw on her.

NATASHA'S P. O. V.

I took an instant while I jogged through the train station to look at Y/n's fierce movements.

After two years, I finally had the chance to see her, and damn my bad luck, it had to be in this kind of situation.

I noticed the mistake on her last turn, and I knew she did too, so I sprinted to reach her, a sudden fear flooding through my body when, in a split second, I wondered if there was any possibility of me seeing the woman I had fallen for four years before die right there.

Steve threw me the trident at the same time as, after grabbing Y/n leg, that thing made her head brutally crash against the cold hard ground.

My breath hitched and I panicked, seeing the gigantic spare gracing Y/n's neck.

Something dark took over me and in a matter of seconds, the trident was buried in that creature.

"Natasha...?" Y/n's quiet, shaky voice, asking for me in disbelief triggered my dark side once more, and, even if the creature was badly hurt, I decided it was not enough.

With a strangled growl, I twisted the weapon inside that monster abdomen, making him cry for help while he fell on his knees.

I kicked the creature down to the floor, extracting the trident from him. "Nat..." this time Y/n's voice was slightly louder, and I turned around to look at her.

The moment I properly saw Y/n, everything in me shut down the danger surrounding me, the fact that it wasn't over, because I could finally see her.

I downed the weapon, my lips parted slightly due to the urge of letting myself pronounce her name. Due to the need of finally telling her what I felt because it had been too long, and the world seemed to go down, this time for good.

The trident slipped away from my grasp, and before I knew it, our other opponent ran towards my now disarmed self.

My first instinct was to get down an cover my head, waiting for the hit that didn't come because of a couple of reasons.

The first one was Steve blocking the weapon.

The second was Y/n pushing me away from the creature's way, and throwing me to the side with her on top of me.

"Hey there stranger." she mumbled, propping herself above me with hooded eyes and a half smile.

"Y/n" I finally said, my eyes starting to get watery but my lips reciprocating the smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After lecturing Wanda, I kneeled before Y/n, now sat against the quinjet's wall with her eyes lost. "let me see your head." I requested.

"alright, Blondie." Y/n obliged with a smug smirk on her face due to her own joke, a smirk that quickly faded when she, wincing, leaned on me, resting her forehead against my shoulder for me to see her crown.

"They did you bad..." I whispered, seeing the fresh blood on the back of her head. "they did you so bad" my fingertips went to the wound, and the moment they tenderly landed over it, Y/n gasped and her hand tried to grip my hip, but she didn't have enough strength to do it.

"they could've me done way worse." she mumbled in a lazy tone, almost as if it was hard for her to speak. "If... my Knight in shining armor hadn't showed up I would... Be... Dead by... By now." she moved slightly to place a subtle kiss on the crook of my neck, which made my heart pound against my chest. "I missed you, Natasha... A lot."

"I missed you too, Y/n." I didn't even notice that sentence made my voice crack, but Y/n did, and both her hands went to my sides, tracing random patterns there with her thumbs. "I'm gonna take care of you, alright?"

She nodded against my shoulder, and I helped her retreat to rest against the wall once more, but her hand refuse to let go of me, even after her eyes closed. "I love you y'know?" her sentence was almost intelligible, but I did understand it.

"You're talking nonsense now." I replied, plainly refusing to believe it was true, because I just felt like I didn't deserve someone as good as Y/n.

"I'm not- just... Just listen for a second" her eyes opened slightly as she tried to avoid to fall asleep. "I mean... I don't know what to say but- wait I know now... I liked the teasing and taunting at the beginning." she sighed, but I stayed there, trying to breath properly while I took in the fact that Y/n knew. "but I don't... I don't like it anymore. You left and I... I lost you and I don't like it any more okay?" a lump formed in my throat as I listened to Y/n's words and realized she was hurting. "I don't like it... So I start, I... I love you."

When she said it again, I remembered that the push and pull, the teasing and taunting, were meant to substitute the love I knew I didn't deserve. "Y/n you're not-"

"Shut... up." she intertwined her fingers with mines. "I'm tired and dizzy, I don't... Wanna argue." she sighed, squeezing my hand. "You're... Amazing and I fell for... You and that's- that's all. Don't... Just don't fight me on this."

The world shut down for the third time that night, and I leaned on Y/n to plant a kiss on her lips, not minding the four people that traveled with us. "I love you too."

"I know." she replied, tugging my hand for me to seat besides her. "I know you do, Nat." she rested her head over my shoulder and started to drift off, our fingers still intertwined.

[aki-draws-things]

NaNoWriMo 2020 #11

I’m not sure this is the best i could write, it probably isn’t but the day hadn’t been merciful on me, at all, and by the end I probably let more emotion slip through and I’m not sure I managed them right as i wanted or I just wrote myself.

This part anyway is not like the previous ones, there’s not going to be a happy ending there. sorry... I hope you’ll like it anyway ~ 

Day: 11/11/2020

Prompt: Emergency room

Ship: Mingjue/Zonghui

Word Count: 1820

Differently from mingjue, zonghui always picked his calls after the first ring, just the time to look at the caller, only exception were unknown numbers, he tried to think if it could be someone he knew and was calling from a different number or some annoying seller, two or three rings in that case. Most people would give up sooner and try to call again later. That number that night was insistent. It was a public one, calling from their town, a house number or something. Maybe it was mingjue who had left his phone at home or it was out of battery and he was calling to tell him he arrived and ready to pick up his drunk brother. He thought he had saved huaisang's friends number too, perhaps not the house one. 

"'ello?" he yawned as answering, not bothering to check the hour. He had probably fallen back asleep after mingjue left, it couldn't be passed too long anyway, Wei wuxian' s house was about 5 km away from them, and no one was around at that hour of the night. 

"zonghui." 

"... You're not mingjue." 

He was a little more awake. He picked up very much convinced it was his husband calling, who else would do it? Most people he knew were sleeping at that hour, his brother was either sleeping or at work, he didn't remember his shift that week. - hell, he hardly remember his own shift at that hour. - he also knew the voice who called, she just needed a nam--

"Wen-jie?" At that point zonghui found himself even more awake. He knew Wen Qing for two reasons. Her little brother was one of huaisang's friends, how was a still running mystery since Wen Ning was the most shy boy they ever met and huaisang's usual company was very outgoing and loud. And Zhuliu lived in the Wen household for more years than he could remember, he knew wen Qing well and even outside the house he saw her at work. After the Zhao brothers finally found each other again most of the Nies got used to calling her sister too, it just fit her like a glove, just like most people always called mingjue Da-ge. 

"Wen-jie, what happened?" 

ZongHui was not just awake, he was already out of bed and searching for a sweatshirt to throw on, not bothering to change pants. He always reacted like that whenever she called, even more if it was in the middle of the night. Why else would a doctor of the central hospital call if something didn't happen? 

"your husband - too polite, too distant to be good. Zonghui put the phone between the ear and the shoulder and tied the hair. - had a car accident." 

No. 

He grabbed the phone before it fell and remained silent a moment longer. 

"he's being transferred here as we speak." 

"is -- is it bad?" 

"I don't know yet." yes, zonghui. Yes, it's bad. It's really bad. Bad enough for Zhuliu to speed through a couple of red lights with the sirens on. Which he, of course, can, but-- "you should come. I'll let you know when I know more." 

She closed the call and watched as an ambulance stopped in front of the doors, she briefly caught the driver's eyes and her heart dropped. You should never show up on a scene only to find out the victim of the worst car accident of your shift was your brother in law. 

She stepped on the side as they pushed a gurney inside and tried to assess the situation with a look; well, it was enough, she worked at the hospital long enough to know when things were bad. She knew when things were hopeless too. 

Zhuliu tumbled down the ambulance slowly, ungraceful, face white as he stopped with both hands on the vehicle and breathed in. And out. And in. 

Wen Qing walked closer, even if she wanted to help there were already enough people dealing with mingjue, he was, she knew, in good hands, in the best hands they had that night. 

And out. And in. And out. 

"zhuliu." she called, her hand close to his arm but without touching him, she knew better than touch him before he noticed her presence and he didn't seem to have noticed her. Or anything beside the ambulance. 

In and out. Long out and in again. 

"Zhao zhuliu." she tried again, his face remained blank and pale, his breath itched. "Zhu'er." sweet, kind, concerned. Then he turned even more pale, his legs gave out and he slumped on the ground, her arms barely managing to hold him. 

"zhuliu. Zhu'er! Listen to me, okay? Easy… Easy, breath. You're doing just fine, just keep doing it and don't make me have to call for another gurney because we have a fainted driver, okay? Can you do that? For me? For your brother who's coming here?" 

He nodded, still disconnected, still mostly unaware of his surroundings. He didn't want to faint anyway, it would be pointless, useless. He would be of no help. 

Well, he wasn't of any help already anyway. He almost threw up when he got on the scene, not because of the blood, he was damn well used to the blood and the most gruesome scenes, no, it was the person covered in blood, with a metal shard sticking out of his left side, pointed slightly upward, blissfully unconscious. Dead. Yes, he almost did it. He had to look away, sent the fastest text to wen Qing, full of typos  and missing words. "cae cident. Uts MingJue" at least the name was correct, she would guess the rest. 

"zhuliu!" she shook him forcing him to blink and get the world back into focus, still on the floor of the parking beside the ambulance. 

"Didi. Need to call didi…." he touched his pocket, then the other, slightly panicked when he couldn't find the phone before remembering he threw it on the empty passenger seat. 

"called him already. Zhuliu, you need to calm down, just… I'll take you home, okay? We’ll call the shift over for you, you're definitely not in condition for driving. You’re in no condition for anything actually." 

He nodded mechanically letting her help him back on his feet just as Zonghui's car entered the parking lot.

When he stopped the car the silence was stretching between him and Huaisang. There was a little voice in his mind who tried to make him blame Huaisang. If only he stayed home like MingJue asked, if he never called to be taken home. It was stupid, and ZongHui shut the voice almost immediately as he stepped out of the car.

“Go change, I’ll take care of them.” Wen Qing said and pushed Zhuliu toward a side entrance, he didn’t look entirely stable on his feet but managed to reach the door and disappear inside.

“What— What happened?” HuaiSang swallowed, his lips trembled like he was going to cry at any given moment, and he looked like he had just stopped. Qing took a deep breath.

“All I know is that there had been a car accident. Someone slammed in the driver’s side and MingJue went out of the road.”

“How’s…” ZongHui's voice was unnaturally small, soft, chocked.

“I don’t know yet. Let’s get inside first.”

She had to brace herself to stay calm, professional, detached. It wasn’t easy when the person that just got there was someone she knew well.

“There are some papers to fill. - She said placing them and a pen on the small table beside the seats they were occupying. - the usual things, personal informations, allergies.” ZongHui nodded but didn’t make a movement to take the pen, he stared at his own hands in silence, like his hands now held all the answers he needed. There was no answer in them, there were only more questions.

“Can we see Da-ge?” Huaisang sounded suddenly young, lost, tears were falling silently, his mind replaying the moment before he stepped outside to go the the party, the last moment he saw MingJue that night, the moment when he thought they had all the time in the world to make up for every single word they said. All their time now was gone and he never apologized. “I want to see Da-ge…”

“Not yet.” Was always her answer.

There were words in the background that ZongHui only caught in bits and pieces. Stabilize. Surgery. Organ damage. He stared at the birthday date for five minutes, suddenly forgetting the right day.

There were more words that Wen Qing whispered in a strained voice while Huaisang was finally asleep occupying two chairs and his head on ZongHui's legs. Ready. Worst.

He felt cold. He felt… nothing.

He thought of death before, he knew MingJue's family history, he knew how HuaiSang's mother died for birth complications, how MingJue's father condition got worse and worse, degenerative, until hallucinations and paranoia led him to grab a kitchen knife and slash MingJue's mother open before killing himself. How MingJue was the one finding them getting home from school, how afraid he was to have inherited it. They talked about death in the past, but none of those talks ever prepared him for that. In the moment he found himself facing the potential death of the man he loved ever since he was a teen, the man he married, the man who proposed him to adopt the little girl from the orphanage who always came crashing against his legs when he showed up, in that moment ZongHui felt empty.

And in that emptiness he felt everything at once. The pain, to sorrow, the guilt for letting him go on his own, the rage for the person who crashed against him and probably left. The emptiness was cold, like ice cubes swallowed one after the other, sitting in the middle of his chest uncomfortably, waiting to melt and disappear like everything else. Burning in their cold, freezing his blood and his mind and his breath.

There was no peace in the emptiness for peace now laid on a bed with a tube down his throat, with the soft beep of a machine next to him, with his hand held carefully in huaisang ones, cold and motionless as the younger nie cried and begged him to wake up and how sorry he was, for everything he said.

Nie ZongHui felt empty and cold and alone.

“Da-ge?”

The picture before his eyes blurred through the tears, Huaisang was thrown against him, they were poshed out of the room ignoring the desperate cries of Huaisang. The world blurred and hot tears seemed to scorch his skin, seep inside of him and melt the ice.

Emptiness disappeared, dissolved in smoke as coldness left his chest in favor of a burning feeling. The world crashed on him and ZongHui fell on his knees.

[bensboynton]

the bookshop on the corner b.h

this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?

WC: 3.3k

warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.

John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!

Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody. 

Until today. 

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions. 

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone. 

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place. 

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop. 

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her. 

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book. 

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it. 

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman. 

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly. 

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day. 

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it. 

Y/N has never truly been in love. 

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies. 

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.” 

That’s what she said every time. 

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye. 

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life? 

And then he showed up. 

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop. 

Until one day, she didn’t anymore. 

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake. 

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever. 

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose. 

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her. 

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading. 

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her. 

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago. 

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound. 

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.” 

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.” 

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say. 

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation. 

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.” 

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him. 

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.” 

“Which one?” 

“All of them.” 

She grinned at his eagerness. 

--

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve. 

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left. 

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number. 

--

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store. 

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye. 

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu. 

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor. 

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.” 

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment. 

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly. 

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.  

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time. 

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?” 

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand. 

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.” 

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

--

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things. 

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell. 

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much. 

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.” 

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker. 

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was. 

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life. 

--

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration). 

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time. 

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that. 

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day. 

Y/N and Ben got very close. 

Insanely close. 

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts). 

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben. 

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben. 

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more. 

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left. 

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben. 

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news. 

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news. 

He was leaving. 

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.” 

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. 

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk. 

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?” 

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.” 

--

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other. 

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose. 

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that. 

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her. 

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving. 

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant. 

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen. 

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks. 

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something. 

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her. 

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do. 

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up. 

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door. 

Ben. 

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace. 

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain. 

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.” 

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons. 

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-” 

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months. 

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly. 

It felt like they were made to be together. 

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle. 

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore. 

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep. 

Slowly, then all at once. 

[egg2k16]

40 Fanfic Q’s Answered

the server wants answers, and they want them now!!! from this post

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Smut and pining all the way. Also, falling in love via laughing

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Eh...I don’t think so, I’m always 100% self-indulgent, so what u see is what I want

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Anything that has to do w mega sadness, I just Don’t. I can’t write anything sad, and if I do, there’s certainly gonna be A Lot of comfort afterwards

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

I have 91 wips, motherfuckers!!! My latest wip is a daddy month fic!

5. Share one of your strengths.

I think, since I’ve been trying to be sparser in my words, I’ve been able to better emphasize what isn’t being said

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

No action scenes from me are ever good, lmao

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

It was late at night, when he started to cry.

He didn't want to cry, but he did.

It's been years since he's last let himself feel, or was it since he was last allowed to feel?

He choked on his sobs, uncomfortable with his tears. He's forgotten how to properly cry. His entire body is shaking, and the connections between flesh and wire hurts.

He stops crying. He starts crying again.

This continues for another few minutes, until he feels as if he can't possibly have any more tears.

He wipes his face, pulls the covers up to his chin, and falls asleep.

(from Twilight on the Sea) I really like this bcus I don’t think I’ve ever really typed out crying in this way, n I tried to make it feel like it was a lot

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Cass was quiet for a moment. “... you know what? Maybe I’ll just go up there and surprise you.”

“If you do, then you already ruined the surprise, haven’t you?”

“Eh, I dunno about that. Seeing my beautiful face is a shock for many people.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

“Hey, Koda? I don’t know about you, but it’s really late here.”

“Really?” Koda asks, then remembers that time zones exist. “Oh crap, what time is it over there?”

“It’s midnight. What about you?”

“It’s eight o’clock. Only four hours difference?”

“Oh hey, that’s not so bad.”

“It reduces our time,” Koda said, a bit whining.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“What are you going to do? Move here? Send for me?”

“You’ll see.”

(from Together) This was a gift for one my best friends on here, @suncatchr​ , and it’s about his ocs!!! I love this a lot bcus while it’s a soulmate au, it’s not ur average soulmate au, and I tried making it as original as possible! And this blurb, I just wanted them to effuse so much love w/o having to say love...cries

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

If this is by posted fics, then I remember writing Look What You’ve Done to Me was very very difficult, bcus, since it’s also a gift, for @daniel-bryan​ , I wanted to write it Good, n since my buddy usually wrote from the love interest’s pov, I felt a weird pressure to write Daniel Bryan’s pov as good as I could

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

2 of my fics in Spanish!!! My oc centric one, Rayos y Centellas, and my shyan one, oye cariño, solo pienso en ti ! Turns out writing in ur native tongue makes everything easier

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

It’s a very passionate hobby!!! I just!!! try to pour all of my love into everything I write!!!

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

I’m not sure!!! I just watch movies n quietly scream to my gay lonesome bcus No One Ever Watches Movies ;-;

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

To just keep writing n not stop for details or forgotten lore, bcus it’s important to write down what’s firing u up Right Now. Of course, it’s very difficult following that ;;-;;

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

“No adverbs!” “No ‘said’!” “It has to make grammatical sense!” sometimes things Need those

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Was gonna say my rewrite of the end of The Rover, but actually, my SPN fic Ube . Shit was peak inspired

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Eridirk (Eridan Ampora/Dirk Strider from Homestuck) all the way. The one otp that’s stayed thru thick n thin <3

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

A little mix of both, and tbh it depends on the fic, but I tend to write chronologically

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

I’ve started bullet pointing my ideas out before writing my fics, and so far, it’s been helping me be more streamlined n get my things written out faster n clearer!

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

Is the need for representation in all the niche movies I keep watching a muse?

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

In my dark room, w music blasting from my laptop, the TV w a soft hum, I have the perfect playlist to get the mood right, curled up in my blankies, n my plushie Sweet Pea by my side

21. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Zero, we rely on autocorrect & editing while typing and die like men

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

YOU DON’T SEEM SCARED.

Del Rio shrugs. “Working as a cop, it makes you numb to some things. It’s good, it lets you react to things as you should, and not how you’d want to.”

YOU SOUND SAD ABOUT THAT.

He makes a noncommittal noise. “It is what it is.” He eats another spoonful of his ice cream, then gets a thought.

“Can you show up?”

HOW SO?

“Can you,” he tries, waving his spoon around, “Manifest?”

I DON’T KNOW. I’LL TRY.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Del Rio assures, and he can feel the air around him smile. The...world, he thinks, around him shifts just slightly, and there seems to be a chink in the armor for a moment before it goes away, as if someone had wiped the glass clear. He realizes that this is her, trying to show up in a physical form, step out of the phone.

He doesn’t know where to look, but then his confusion wanes when a butterfly shows up, fluttering towards him. It lands near his phone, skitters a bit, flaps its wings.

“Lucy?” he asks, transfixed on the butterfly. Its orange wings are bright under the sunlight.

I THOUGHT I’D TRY SMALL, FOR MY FIRST TRIAL.

“Well, you certainly nailed it.” He smiled warmly at the butterfly, and he had the crazy notion that it smiled back at him.

(adapted from The Policeman , the first fic I posted!)

23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Yeah, probably The Policeman lmao, I remember it today n I cringe a little at the very obvious refs to other fandoms I made. Despite that, it continues being one of my best hits!

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Never

25. What do you look for in a beta?

I’m just thankful to have gotten a beta in general in life at all

26. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I beta’ed once, and since English is my 2nd language, I pointed out syntax confusion, typos, n continuity errors

27. How do you feel about collaborations?

Can be done, it’s just that I am frightened. Tried doing that, it fell thru, n the new thing that came up, I still have to hold up my end of the bargain ;;-;;

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

cries omg ok so!!! Chancy_Lurking ( @lurkerviolin​ ) is one of my faves, n we’ve become friends, n their Felix+ Sense8 series is the reason for it all, and u know it’s good if it managed to make a friendship that’s last its good while, and also they’re so nice, and we vibe so well!!! thegoatz ( @daniel-bryan​ ) is also now one of my bestest friends ever, and I wuv him so much, he is such a good kid, n he’s so enthusiastic about writing, and I hope that spark never goes out!!! And adamwhatareyouevendoing ( @skatingthinandice​ ) bcus she’s doing a rewrite of The Last Kingdom where it’s all gay where it should be and vnjkdfsnvkd God, what a wonderful friend!!!

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I actually technically am working on a sequel to @rettaroo​ ‘s A New Kind of Touch ! Another promise I have to hold up eventually ;;;-;;;

30. Do you accept prompts?

Sure!

31. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I try to follow canon as much as I possibly can!

32. How do you feel about smut?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

33. How do you feel about crack?

Eh, it’s alright. I don’t normally look for it, so I don’t really have a solid opinion on it

34. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

I don’t want to read it, but I have so far encountered it twice very amicably: once here in a ficlet, and another in a longer fic on AO3, and they were both very good

35. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Probably not, I don’t like sad things!

36. Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3! I’m RedLlamas on it!

37. Talk about your current wips.

Lmao which one. The one I’m currently working on is an impregnation kink turned “oh no I actually do wanna have a family” feelings fic!

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

Gonna be real w u, the best comments I’ve gotten have mainly been from my friends, who either write a paragraph or two going into detail of the fic, or just send a one sentence comment that’s just “screams!” I’ve gotten very few paragraphs from other people, n they’re always so!!!

My friends are the realest :’)

39. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

The perks of being a rarepair writer is that the only people who read my fics are the ones actively looking for content!!! And they can’t complain about my work because No One Else Is Writing For It!!!!!!

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

All my fics are masterpieces, so I’ll do a summary change! For don’t you just know (exactly what they’re thinking?)

Dakota finds himself in unexpected heartbreak, and the universe decides to bring him in the direction of a night club with a dancer with stars on his skin.

[thoughts-of-a-bibleophile]

sick day

oh boyyyy guess who wrote a stupid Lukanette sick day fic at 3 am this is probably terrible and riddled with typos but I just needed to write it out i’m sORRY

(note: i haven’t seen silencer, so this happens between frozer and that, i guess? i assume that they’re still friends and text every once in a while, even if we don’t see it on the show. i’m guessing they’re pretty good buds with that budding possibly crush feel, y’know? i just really want them to be buds ok, so here we go.)

(additional note: i haven’t really written anything in YEARS, so i’m super super rusty. apologies in advance.)

sick day (because i’m not creative and can’t think of a better name)

in which Marinette is sick and tired and asks for soup and Luka is the nice boy who is more than happy to help.

Marinette: Soup

Marinette: Souuuup

Marinette: Souuooouuuopppp

Luka: ??? Marinette?

Marinette: Soup

Marinette: LeBlanc’s

Marinette: Pls

Marinette: Sick

Luka: …alright

Luka: Be over soon

Of all people to see her with a cold, it had be him.

Really, he was one of the last people she wanted to see when she was this much of a mess. But the her from an hour ago, high on cold medicine, apparently sent him a flurry of texts, demanding that he bring soup to her house, so here he was, with a cup of soup, his guitar and a bemused look on his face.

She peered at him from under her mountain of blankets, feeling hot from embarrassment that she really had asked him to come over and bring her food. Her hair was tangled and sweaty from the fever and her voice was a croak at best after the numerous coughing fits. Definitely a good look.

The late afternoon light from her windows lit up the room with golden hues. It created a bronze halo of light around his head, his guitar shining gold on his back. He was in his usual outfit: A blue jacket and jeans, though this time with a black shirt on, not one of his countless Jagged Stone shirts. Why did she even know he had a lot of Jagged Stone shirts? Why was she paying that much attention? She quietly groaned; she was too sick to deal with him in her room.

“Hey Marinette,” he said, probably still not sure why he was here. Marinette really would have preferred it to be Alya to see her like this instead.

“Hi,” she muttered, voice little more than whisper.

He frowned with concern, seeming to finally realize how sick she was. As if the wads of tissues in the waste basket and on the floor weren’t enough of a clue. He set the soup on her desk and pulled up her desk chair next to her chaise. His sudden nearness made her eyes widen, but she couldn’t exactly back much further away from him with her blanket pile, especially not when she was sitting in her chaise.

“Do you mind if I feel your forehead?” he asked.

She shook her head, feeling her blush burn even brighter, and added in between coughs, “I know I have a fever. I’ve been hot and cold all day. And I have a cold because I’ve been coughing and gross since this morning. It’s the worst.”

He gave her a half-smile at her self-diagnosis and glanced over his shoulder at the soup on her desk.

“Well, are you hungry now? I can go get a bowl and you can have something to eat if you want.”

Marinette still couldn’t believe that she had asked him here and that he was now willing to serve her food. She burrowed further under her blankets, wondering if one could die of embarrassment.

“L-Luka, you really don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I...appreciate you bringing over the food, but if you have things to do—“

She then coughed because of course she did. It was one of the bad coughing fits too, the sort that left one red in the face and curled in a ball, wishing for sweet relief. Because of course it was.

Luka put a hand on her shoulder as the coughing subsided and she looked back up to see him still smiling at her, even though she might have possibly coughed in his face.

“Hey, what kind of person would I be if I left you here like this? Let me go grab some stuff from downstairs and I’ll be right back.”

At this point, Marinette was too tired to really argue. She called weakly after him: “Bowls are in the cupboard by the sink, silverware below it.”

“Got it.”

A few minutes passed while he was downstairs. Marinette tried to smooth back her hair from her face a bit and make herself look slightly less terrible. By the time he came back up with a tray, a bowl, a spoon, and a cup of tea, she didn’t look nearly as bad. Well, she was still sick, but for being sick, she didn’t look that bad. Probably.

He carefully placed the tray on her lap with her soup and a mug of tea. The warm steam wafted up to her face, the scent of lavender from the tea instantly making her relax, and she wondered how he had guessed her favorite tea.

“Thank you so much, Luka. I really appreciate you doing this.” She smiled apologetically at him, still feeling guilty that he had come all this way on her request, then began to eat her soup.

Luka sat nearby at her desk, strumming his guitar and glancing over at her every few moments, as if to make sure she was actually eating and trying to get better.

A few moments later, Marinette started and dropped her spoon in the soup. Luka jumped slightly at the noise. “Wait, did you want any food? I’m here eating, but you’re not and now I feel like a bad host- I think I have something in the fridge—“

He looked over at her and shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks. I ate before you texted me. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself right now.”

She nodded reluctantly, returning to her soup. She was pleased to see that he had gotten it from her favorite café like she had asked. At least she had remembered the right name in her medicine-addled state.

His strumming continued, just a soft melody that made her think of sunny days walking along the Seine and picnics in the park. Not of sitting indoors under mounds of blankets, bored out of her mind in between naps.

They didn’t talk, not like she could talk much anyway without coughing, but the quiet was peaceful. She didn’t feel like she had to talk like she usually did when there was empty air. It was nice.

As she sipped on her warm tea, already feeling better than she had all day, she asked him, “How did you know I liked lavender tea?”

He looked over at her and smiled again. “You told me it was your favorite a few weeks ago when you found a cat shaped tea box at the store. Plus, it was the only box in the cupboard, so I assumed.”

Oh. She did do that. He…remembered? From that long ago? From a stupid throwaway text? She tried not to think too hard on that.

“Did you end up buying that Kit-Tea after all?”

It took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. The orange, cat-shaped tea box... “Oh! No, I didn’t. They only had orange blossom tea in stock and I didn’t think it was worth buying just for the box, so I didn’t get it.”

“Not an orange blossom fan?”

“No, it tastes like watered down orange juice!”

Her voice sounded almost like a whine and he laughed at that. Marinette thought she would be embarrassed at her answer, but she ended up giggling along with him.

After, the only sounds were his quiet playing and the muffled noises of Paris outside. Marinette knew she should probably have him go since there was nothing else for him to do here, but she wanted to keep talking to him and listening to his music.

“How do you do that? With your guitar? Like tune in to people’s emotions, I mean.”

Luka snorted. “Tune in, nice one.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but stifled a laugh anyway. “Ha ha. Pun definitely not intended.”

“...I honestly don’t know how I do it,” he admitted, looking down at his guitar. “I kind of just take a deep breath and, I guess, feel the room I’m in? And then my hand just knows what to play.”

When Marinette didn’t answer immediately, he seemed almost sheepish. “I probably didn’t explain it very well. I…don’t really understand it myself.”

“No, no it’s really cool! I wish I was that in tune with-“ She saw his look and glared at him. “Pun not intended!” He laughed again.

“I wish I was able to do that,” she continued. “I’ve seen you do it to people you don’t even know. You probably know it already, Luka, but you’re super talented.”

He seemed almost flustered by her praise. He looked away and played with the ends of his hair, like it was a nervous habit. Was he nervous? “Thanks. It seems kind of minor compared to what you can do, though.”

“What?” Marinette gaped at him, stunned that such a talented musician would compare himself to her. “What do you mean ‘what I can do’? I’m a klutz and a human tornado!”

He stared at her this time in disbelief. “Marinette, seriously? You are ridiculously talented. You can bake the best macarons in Paris; you can sew and design just about anything; you can draw art that’s good enough for Jagged Stone’s album cover; and you’re one of the nicest, most selfless people I’ve ever met! What’s all that compared to a little bit of music?”

Marinette was definitely red at this point. But she didn’t care at the moment; she needed him to understand how great his music was, how great he was.

“Luka, don’t undersell yourself like that. Who was the one who got us all together to perform at the National Music Festival? Who always does his best to make everyone feel better with and without his music? Who helped the girl with two left feet avoid falling on her face at the ice skating rink? Who responded to a half-asleep girl’s sick texts, even though he didn’t need to, and brought her soup and her favorite tea because he’s just a good person?”

He was beaming at her by the end of her spiel and she smiled shyly back, aware of how much she had just said about him. She turned even redder at his look, if that was possible. His ears did look a little bit pink, though, so at least she wasn’t the only one feeling embarrassed.

“Thank you, Marinette.”

“O-Of course,” she managed to get out.

He had stopped playing as they had talked. It was silent for a bit as she tried to calm her red face.

After a few quiet deep breaths, she said:

“Um…also, sorry for the texts. I didn’t mean to send them— Not that I didn’t want to see you - I did - but I didn’t want you to come over when I know you’re probably busy and be my delivery boy, though I do appreciate you bringing the food, but—“

Luka chuckled. “It’s okay. It was no big deal.”

“I know, but…thanks,” she said, looking into her mug because she didn’t think she could look at him after all of her stammering. “For bringing me soup and for the tea and for…everything.”

“Anything for you, Marinette,” he said. She knew she was bright red again and ducked her head to cover her blushing face. How could he be so casual, so nonchalant about it all?! He said it as if it were the simplest statement to make, as if it didn’t make her heart start pounding.

She started gulping down her tea and tried to calm her blush. Why wasn’t this stupid relaxing leaf water working?!

The tea didn’t have much of a calming effect; it just burned her throat and made her feel full and sleepy. Lavender tea did that to a person. She could feel every part of her sinking into the blankets and pillows that made up her blanket mountain. Now was definitely the time to tell him to go because there was really nothing left for him to do.

“Luka…” she trailed off, already feeling her eyelids drooping.

“Marinette?”

Instead of saying something intelligent and mature-sounding like “thank you for being here” or “you’ve done enough today for me,” she murmured, “I’m sleepy.”

She heard him chuckle again, the chair rolling closer to her chaise. “Do you want me to leave?”

Yes, every rational part of her mind chanted. But what came out was, “Stay.”

She thought he would laugh, but there was no sound aside from their breathing and the birds from outside. Just before sleep overtook her, she felt his hand brush some of her hair from her face and he said again, “Anything for you, Marinette.”

oh lord I don’t even know what this is, but I’m putting it on the internet because I’ll hate myself if I don’t so hERE YA GO

*jumps back into hermit hole for another four years of not writing or publishing anything*

[supersizemeplz]

The Cure

Part Two

Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Reader

Another #supersizedfic short. A continuation if this one shot. I listened to H.E.R.'s Fate as I wrote, just because I love that song. Excuse typos. Enjoy!

Soapy bubbles filled the tub like foam, coating the pink tinted water that smelled faintly of roses. A few candles rested at the corners of the enclosed bathing area, wafting their relaxing scent with ease. Muffled mumbles filled the air, along with their hushed instrumental from the door separating you from the bedroom.

You eased into the warmth of the water, exhaling out all the day's stress. Your arms mindlessly cleaned your body, ridding it of the germs of the outside world. At least you could wash that away with ease. The night with Erik was still fresh in your mind. Though it was three nights ago, you swore you could still smell the addictive scent of his cologne. But then again you did live with him.

You'd listened to his breathing even, his body relaxing against you. He was asleep. His heavy arm rested across your stomach. You felt secure. As much as you hated the thought, you needed to take a other shower before you could fall asleep. Lightly slipping from beneath his protective hold, you slipped from the comfort of his bed. He stirred a bit from the loss of your warmth, easing your racing heart a bit. As you slowly closed the his bedroom door, he mumbled a soft 'goodnight, princess'.

The next morning, he was gone before you'd awaken. You'd figured that when his keys weren't hanging by the door. But he usually was a morning bird. You'd slipped on your robe and headed into the kitchen for breakfast. The only thing different about this morning opposed tp other mornings was you were welcomed by a plate of breakfast and a bottle of apple juice. He'd cooked for you. A sticky note with 'morning, princess' sat atop the wrapped plate along with a rose.

Stepping from the cool water, you wrapped a towel around you before draining the water. Humming along to whatever song your playlist chose, you moisturized your skin with natural creams and oils. A few things you'd seen Erik use, and decided to test out. His skin was amazing.

Biting your lip at the thought of Erik, you took a deep breath. You needed to clear your mind. Before you found yourself back in his room a second time. Finding an oversized shirt and shorts, you decided against wearing a bra. Your bonnet was secured before you roamed out of your room, childish slippers making your presence known.

"Guess he's still out.." You mumbled aloud as you seen his key hook bare. Meditation time. Though you weren't an expert at the craft, just taking time out to breath helped a lot. Erik had taught you that.

Setting up your designated area, you moved the coffee table towards the tv before taking a seat on the furry carpet. Erik hadn't minded the feminine rug when you'd bought it, saying that it would remind him of you when you weren't there. You playfully rolled your eyes at the memory.

Settling into a crossed leg position, you closed your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. You felt yourself relax, hoping to ease your flashbacks. The only thing you focused on was your breathing. No wet dreams. No mind blowing, back arching sex. And definitely not Erik.

Keys jingled before you heard the door open and close. Those heavy boots met the hardwood floors. No Erik. That familiar thud of his duffle hitting the floor sounded. He stopped his movements, probably noticing you. No Erik. You heard his keys bring put on the hook before his steps dated again. They were headed towards you as you kept your eyes close, trying keep mental control. No Erik. He stopped before you and all you could envision was him holding himself up over you with those dark lusting eyes. Sexual Erik.

Erik watched you tuck your plump bottom lip between your teeth. He smirked lightly as he took a seat across from you, tossing his hoodie on the couch. You were nervous. Both his long legs rested on either side of you since he could fold up like you. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he admired your features. Your skin glowed a bit, lips shining with whatever you'd used on them. Licking his lips, he leaned forward just enough to catch your scent. He wanted to kiss you.

"So we're not gonna mention the other night, princess?" That'd caught your attention. You opened an eye to look at him before slowly opening the other. He was leaning back on his hands, legs wide as you somewhat sat between them. You threw a quick glance at his lower region. When he grinned, you knew he'd caught it.

You cleared your throat, "I didn't know you wanted to.." That was the truth. He hadn't mentioned it before then. You finally met his gaze. He didn't say anything at first, and you thought you'd said the wrong thing.

He shrugged as he sat up, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You slipped out the room a while after. I thought you'd regretted it.." His thumb massaged the back of your hand as he glanced at you. "Didnt want to make you feel worse, if you did.."

You'd never seen this look on Erik. He almost looked unsure. Nervous?

Honestly, Erik wasn't the one for confronting these types of situations. When it came to relationships in which involved love, whether family or significant other, he didn't know how to respond. After certain events in his childhood, he'd figured that there wasn't a happily ever after for him. He'd been lost for so long and you were slowly helping him find his way. Whether you knew it or not. Those little venting sessions as you cleaned his hair up were a big part of that rehab, along with other moments including you.

"How could I regret the best night of my life.." You fought off the urge to grin brightly. "I've never been catered to like that, sexually.. mentally.. physically." He chuckled at your smile that fought its way through. You locked you hand in his, the bright color of your nails contrasting against his skin. His body tingled at the action, a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Butterflies?

You leaned forward a bit, bring his face to yours with your free hand. He allowed you to do so, that feeling covering his whole body. He really, really liked you. It almost felt like love. Catching you lips in his, he kissed you with all the passion he held. You grinned as he growled lowly, his hands pulling you into his lap.

As you felt him getting excited beneath you, you pulled from his soft lips with a giggle. He'd never get tired of that. You pressed a few more pecks against his lips before stopping to admire him. He licked his lips as he wrapped his arms around you. His forehead pressed against yours as he closed his eyes, feeling you snaked your arms around his neck.

After all the things he'd done in his life and all the things he's done trying to make up for his past, it seemed this moment was a reward for his efforts. You were his redemption. You were his cure.

_________________________

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