#which literally just did not occur to me i was like what about my wave screams predator...

[vamptastic]

I keep forgetting that my voice now has me reading as a cis gay guy most of the time. It throws me off a lot

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[tetragonia]

A Wave of Feelings

Rafe Cameron x F!Pogue!Reader

Blurb: Rafe and (Y/N) got into an argument for God knows how many times, about literally anything when they breath the same air, ranging from a small accident to a heated one about their cultural beliefs. But something in the air was different this time. Or was it only in the air? Not something in their heart and mind when the two of you finally realize something big that could change your lives?

Note: I have always wanted to write an angst especially for this character and it has occurred to me one day that arguing/miscommunication plot is kind of my fave trope so here we are lol.

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, argument, bad writing lol English isn't my first language. also, soft!Rafe in the end!

Words: 1490

The sun hung low over the Outer Banks as Rafe Cameron and you found yourself embroiled in yet another heated argument. This was clearly not the first time you both got into an argument. Some of them were heavy like that one time when your best friend asked you to go to the party just to talk to Rafe (which she did) but then he dumped her after the party and she cried for weeks on your shoulder, or some Kook-owned properties that limited your access, or some insulting banter between Rafe and your friends (that got you realized how much he hated JJ).

But most of the time it was just about silly things: when he knocked up your beer accidentally, when you sailed in front of him and accidentally splashed some water (it didn't even make his already oily hair wet), or when you were napping in a near beach and he claimed that it was his territory (he was in the Cut area, for God's sake!). You two always found a way to argue.

This time, your voices clashed like crashing waves, echoing off the walls of the old shipwreck where you had sought refuge.

"You're impossible, Rafe! Always acting like you own this place, roaming around thinking that you're so much better than us Pogues," you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. Pogues always owned this place, not some rich snobby kids like him, you thought.

Rafe's jaw clenched, his temper flaring and pride wounded. He hissed, "Maybe if you Pogues have some ambitions, you wouldn't be stuck in the same place your whole life!"

Oh, this was definitely one of those heavy arguments.

Your fists clenched at your sides as took a step forward. Your voice trembling with emotion. "You have no idea what it's like to struggle, Rafe. You've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

For a moment, you needed to convince yourself that you saw Rafe's gaze softened. You wanted to believe that a flicker of remorse crossed his features before he quickly masked it with a defiant glare. "At least I don't have to scrape by just to survive. Maybe if you Pogues worked harder, you'd actually amount to something."

His words struck deep, a painful reminder of the challenges you and your community faced every day. You recoiled as if struck by a lightning, your eyes stinging with unshed tears and your face was red, "You don't know anything about me, Rafe. You don't know what I've been through."

Your argument drew the attention of Sarah who was nearby with John. She was one of your best friends and you felt nothing but pity every time you realized that she shared the same blood with Rafe. With a furrowed brow, she stepped between you two, her hands raised in a gesture of peace trying to calm you down.

"Hey, what's going on here? Can't you two go five minutes without arguing?" Sarah pleaded, her voice filled with concern and annoyance. She must be tired with all these arguments, you thought. But those were all about Rafe's incapability to control his temper! And that might or might not be your issue as well...

Rafe shot you a scorching glare before turning his attention to Sarah. "Stay out of this, Sarah. This doesn't concern you."

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you stepped forward beside Sarah. "You're the one who concerns everyone with your existence!"

"What did you say to her, Rafe?!" Sarah looked at you with a concern. You were one of her strongest friends and she rarely saw you tremble like this. "Come on, talk it out like an adult, will ya!"

Rafe's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. "Talk? What's there to talk about? I said, stay out of this, Sarah."

His gaze turned to you, "You think you know everything, (Y/N). Being the weaker one of the community, blaming us for having some money. If you said that I don't know anything about you, then you also don't know anything about me!"

His words cut like a blade across your pain. Your expression softened, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes and you were not sure whether Rafe realize that or not. "Let's just cut it out. You would never understand what I've been through. What we have been through. Let's go, Sarah. Let's get out of here."

Sarah watched the exchange with growing concern, her heart aching for her brother and her best friend. She knew there was something deeper at play here, something that neither of them wanted to admit.

"Come on, you two. Let's take a step back and calm down, especially you, Rafe," Sarah suggested, her voice gentle yet firm. She glared at his brother. His face was as red as you, his forehead frowned deep.

You and Rafe exchanged a wary glance before reluctantly exhaled a deep breath. As much as you hate him, as much as you didn't want to admit, you really want him to apologize. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a palpable sense of unease.

Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to find the right words. "Look, I know things have been tense lately, but I really can't bear another sight of you guys bicker over things. If you still want to do that, please not where I can see you. I need you two to be in your best behavior when I'm around. Especially with you, Rafe. I have enough of you already."

Rafe's gaze softened as he looked at his sister, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. "You're right, Sarah. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Sarah still held her concern, but she relieved to see them finally finding common ground. "It's okay. Now I'll leave it up to you. I can't mom you around like this, geez."

She walked away from you both. She lived long enough with both you and Rafe and there was no way she did not realized that beneath the surface, there was a different kind of tension simmered—a tension born from unspoken feelings and unacknowledged desires.

You stood still, refused to meet his gaze. The wind blew your hair as the sun began to set. You started to feel the chill and instinctively hug your own body, fixing your shirt together. You accidently drew a sharp breath when a cold wind sent chills down your spine. You sniffed and looked over the horizon. Refusing to take even the tiniest glance at him, you kept looking at the sea while stroking your upper arm.

Despite the heat of your argument, Rafe couldn't ignore the way the cold seemed to seep into your bones, making you appeared small and vulnerable against the vast expanse of the beach. His heart ached at this view.

You didn't see that he wanted to reach out, to wrap his arms around you and shield her from the biting wind; his hesitation to offer you warmth and comfort in the midst of your argument.

But his pride held him back, a barrier he had built long ago to protect himself from vulnerability and pain. Yet now, standing on the windswept beach with you before him, he couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe took a step forward, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "(Y/N), I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. I was out of line."

Your eyes widened in surprise at Rafe's apology, your anger momentarily forgotten as she regarded him with cautious curiosity. You had expected him to be stubborn, to be the usual Rafe: to dig in his heels and refuse to back down. But instead, here he was, standing before you with such humility you'd never seen before.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the only sound the crashing of the waves against the shore. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Rafe," you said softly, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Thank you."

And with that, Rafe's resolve crumbled completely. Ignoring the voice of doubt in his mind, he opened his arms and pulled you into a tight embrace, provided you with the warmth of his body against yours. He could feel the softness of your hair against his cheek and he kissed your head softly it almost gave you a heart attack.

So you were not hallucinating all this time. The glances, the gestures, the underlying concern for her.... He felt the same way, too.

In that moment, with the cold wind whipping around them, you knew that he had finally acknowledged his feelings for you. And as you stood together on the windswept beach, you both vowed to never let your pride stand in the way of your connection again.

[solarnomoon]

tame - nishimura riki

ni-ki always stood out to you, or atleast, in his own way. when you started noticing him more, it was easy to like him.

pairing >>> ni-ki x male reader

tags >>> college au, fluff, friends to lovers

warnings >>> swearing, substance usage, suggestive themes

wc >>> 3,073 words

author's note >>> ni-ki is just so freaking pretty i want to give him the biggest hug and never let go＼(≧▽≦)／ also js remember this is ooc also if you guys ever to just talk about random enhypen stuff or virtually anything im always down to talk n stuff anyway i hope u guys enjoy this one!! it kinda spawned out of nowhere and also all over the place so idk lol bye!!

it wasn’t like you to fall for a boy so easily. at least, not in the way that occurred, especially for a guy like nishimura riki. it was cheesy, to say the least: you two have been acquaintances since middle school, quite literally knowing each other for 6 years now, even now attending the same university (completely unintentional, of course). you always just kinda knew him as that lovely kid that was the same height as you, even throughout high school. don't get it twisted, you weren't that tall, but regardless of the fact, he was the same height.

the first time you saw him the summer after high school was at your orientation. you were placed in the 12th group, and when you reached the meeting spot, you noticed riki immediately, much, much taller than before, giving you two a height difference that wasn't present before. the second thing you noticed was the drop of his voice, which you discerned from his "yo, y/n!" coupled with a slight wave.

"ni-ki? what-" and before you even finished your sentence, the orientation leader interrupted, telling the group as a whole that they were about to start as you happened to be the last person they were waiting for. your conversation had to be put on halt until 20 minutes later where she began a tour of the school.

while you began to follow the group to the first destination, ni-ki reconvenes with you after speaking to a couple of the other group members, nudging your shoulder with his own to get your attention. "y/n, i didn't know you committed here? i thought you were gonna go to ucla for sure," he questions you with a voice of slight familiarity.

"no yeah, i was, but i thought about it and i just wanted to go here." he hums in acknowledgment, giving a few seconds of downtime before you begin to speak again. "dude, when did you become so tall? and have that deep ass voice? weren't we like basically the same height a few months ago?"

a few other differences were left unspoken but assumed nonetheless. first off, his hair, which historically was left black and much shorter throughout highschool, but now was longer with an ombré effect going from a light grey to black at the ends. secondly, his style, which flipped 180 from sweatpants and a normal shirt to something straight out of k-dramas. and lastly, his piercings, double lobes with a helix on both. or maybe one? point is, he looked good. too good.

he laughs, knowing this must come as a shocker to you because last time you checked, he was completely anew. "well for one, i turned 18 and was basically allowed to do whatever i wanted with my body. for some reason i went through a second puberty," he signals your height difference by putting his hand out flat at the top of your head and then bringing it to his, just shrugging. "also, i got a modeling job that allowed me to buy random ass clothes. so... yeah!"

your mouth slightly ajar combined with your head tilt let him know you were still in fact lost, so he continued on. "well, you know that dance group i've been in since a few years ago right?" the nod coming from your stature allowed him to finish the thought, "so basically some of the guys in that group like... told? their manager about me and gave me a chance to attend one of their casting calls, and i made the cut."

the group stops in front of the library, allowing you guys to sit down at one of the slabs nearby, half listening to your tour guide, but more focused on conversing with one another because you two had already toured the school when filling out college applications.

"wait, congrats ni-ki, that's insane!" you turn to him, giving him a quick cheeky smile with two thumbs up, and he just chuckles at you, putting his face into his hands at the sight of your cuteness playfulness. "what, did i say something wrong?"

"n-no, it's just... nevermind..." he tsks at you, not wanting to reveal the fact that he found you cute for a second.

you two continued to chat about anything and everything, eventually learning more about the guy that you would've never known previously. for one, he hates the color pink, even though all of his friends tell him that the color suits him—even his model designer thinks pink is his most suitable color. you also learned that the group that he's apart of, enhypen, is actually pretty popular on tiktok and youtube: garnishing over 4 million subs on youtube and 2 million followers on tiktok. he's also been with his group for multiple years now, and you even met some of them at sports events and stuff, like sunoo and jay.

other things include the fact that he has an older and a younger sister, he loves to dance, he likes to play piano, and one time he met jung ho-yeon before she was on squid game and he was so confused on why they looked so familiar, he thought they were long lost siblings or something. then he found out that she's korean.

he still believes it though...

soon enough, you guys find yourselves at the end of the orientation, having made friends with others, but especially between you two. you asked him if he could hang out during summer, but he has plans to go to japan the rest of summer, so you just plan to hang out during your time in college.

᧔◍᧓

the one thing that you didn't talk about was your rooming situation, so imagine your surprise when you're in the middle of your move-in, and in the hallway, you see ni-ki, walking into the suite right across from yours. "no fucking way, nishimura riki." you yell to him due to his headphones over his head, and he turns over and immediately puts a grin onto his face.

"y/n l/n." he puts his box down and walks over to you, embracing your smaller body, allowing you to practically melt in his scent and hug. once he lets you go, he just gazes at you, still smiling. "how have you been?" he leans against the wall in his cool-guy-esque fashion, but after talking with him the entirety of orientation, you know that he's a lot more of a nerd and introvert than he lets on.

"it's been good! honestly dude, i missed you." you don't miss the fact that his cheeks slightly flush with color, losing the eye contact that was previously held. "how was fucking japan, you looked like you had so much fun on your story and shit!" while asking, you point toward his box, silently questioning if you could come in and help him with his stuff while you updated each other.

while speaking, he brought you to his room that was surprisingly extremely decorated: full of neutrals and darker tones with some pop of color, many boxes and clothes on the floor but already pretty put together.

"wow, you're already way farther in the move-in than i am—i feel like there's just so much fucking stuff," you explain, taking a seat on his bed. you bounce on it a couple of times, mouth wide open by how comfortable it is. "wait, ni-ki, how did you do this?"

"mattress topper." he replies, placing his last box down on the floor and beginning to re-arrange his clothes onto the outside hanger he had bought. "looks like we're gonna be neighbors, y/n," he said in his deep tone, always catching you off-guard, but somehow giving you a tinge of butterflies in your stomach.

"yeah!" you chirp, excited to explore the newfound friendship with ni-ki.

᧔◍᧓

after the first month of university, many people in both of your guys' social circles had created a conceived notion around ni-ki: that he was a nonchalant, cool guy.

you knew this wasn't him at all though.

but you understood why people had thought that of the guy. for one, he's 6 foot something (he doesn't tell you his exact height just to tease the fact that he's much taller than you). next, he dresses stylistically as if every day is his last waking day. lastly, he loves to observe, and not talk much, but every time he did, he always had something witty or something flirtatious to say.

that is until people saw how he was whenever he was with you.

the cool guy persona had completely shifted into something more friendly, more recognizable as a regular person. ni-ki explained his day rapid-fire, telling you basically everything that happened, showed you a specific dance that he and his members had learned, or maybe gave you a sneak peek of what he was gonna wear to some fashion show. he also would tell you about his interests, the things he did on the side, even the people he met. when his friends saw how different he acted around you, they confronted him first, then confronted you after.

"what did ni-ki say?" you ask, wondering why he acts so different around yourself than other people.

"he just said that's how your dynamic was." heeseung had shrugged. "even though we've been members together for like 5 years now, i've never seen ni-ki open up this much to someone. it's like you guys are like... dating or something."

the sentiment gets a cough out of you, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. "w-what?! of course not, we're just friends!" you deny frantically, waving your hands in front of him. "me and ni-ki are just friends."

just then, an arm wraps around your waist, a voice entering the conversation, "who's just friends?" ni-ki questions, smiling at you and heeseung.

of course, heeseung just looks at you, looks at the arm around your waist, then at ni-ki, and back to you. he raises his eyebrows and puckers his lips before walking away. ni-ki turns to you in confusion. "what's that all about?"

᧔◍᧓

as time went on, you and ni-ki had become exceptionally comfortable with one another, becoming each other's ride or dies. unfortunately for you though, it meant he had become increasingly flirtatious with you. you knew he was straight, he had explained his previous crushes to you and what he was looking for in a girl, but you on the other hand had fallen susceptible to his advances, convincing yourself that this is just what friends do.

on his birthday, he had brought you to smoke at the "top of the world," so he called it, which was literally just a trail that led you to the top of a scenic cliff. romantic, you thought, but you knew it was just out of you two becoming best friends.

"y/n-ie," he starts, the nickname sticking after calling you that one drunken night during halloween. "what do you think about teddy bears?"

you passed the joint back to him after taking a hit. "teddy bears? ni-ki, what the fuck are you on about??" the words come out a little too harsh for your liking, so you quickly follow-up, "sorry, i didn't mean it like that."

ni-ki gets up and turns to you. "that was kind of mean," he pouts, putting out his joint before putting back into the metallic holder he had thrifted. the taller had shifted slightly closer to you, wanting to lean his head on your shoulder. it was a little awkward due to the height difference, but the guy made it work, and it made you begin to sweat on your palms.

"sorry, ni-ki." even through the nervousness, you had half a mind to pretend like nothing's wrong, so you lean your head on top of his just barely. in case he questions it, then you could always play the ambiguity card: 'i didn't do anything, it was all you.'

"it's okay baby." he also started calling you that after thanksgiving, when he heard sunoo calling you it. he crossed his arms and wouldn't talk to you for the rest of the day until you came over to his room and asked you why sunoo called you baby and he couldn't, so after that it was a deal that he was allowed to.

you checked the time, which just hit 12 am. "oh, happy birthday ni-ki." you tell him, reaching from your tote bag for a smaller, paper bag within. you hand it to the guy, looking into his eyes for validation. "for you, it's not a bomb, i swear!"

he takes it from you and opens it, revealing two keychains that matched, alongside bracelets from his favorite brand. "y/n..." he trails off, not knowing what to say to you.

"i know, i know, the bracelets are expensive. but ni-ki, you're my best friend. i would do anything for you." you tell him, not wanting him to freak out.

the bracelets had been on his mind since the summer, you remembered from one of the random conversations that you had during orientation, and even though it was a long time ago, you knew he had been wanting them for months, but couldn't allocate the right funds to get it, especially because he was building his closet at the time.

"y/n... i... thank you." he finally stammers out, looking back at your eyes. even in the pale moonlight, you could discern the water in his eyes, but you knew that he hated when he cried, so you didn't say anything of it. "you remembered, huh?"

"uhh, duhh! of course i did," you joke, attempting to lighten the mood. you place your hand onto his shoulder to give him some comfort, but he takes that arm and uses it as leverage to push you onto your back, crawling on top of you. "w-woah, ni-ki?!" you yelp in surprise, not comprehending what just happened.

he just grins, placing his large hand on your face, rubbing your cheek softly. "y/n..."

little did he know though, this was your final straw. you couldn't take it anymore, the incessant flirting, the changes in his behavior around you, hell, even the constant sleepovers that he asked you all the time. so you did the only thing you could think of: run.

᧔◍᧓

of course it didn't really work though.

he was miles more athletic than you were, so he caught up to you within like 5 seconds which is honestly embarrassing on your behalf but you were too sad and a little turned on to even care.

"ni-ki, let go of me, i can't take this anymore!"

the taller just holds your arm, but the rest of his body was frantic, like he was afraid that if he let go he'd lose you for good. "w-what, y/n, what! you can't take what?!" he yells, not knowing what happened.

you twist your head around, looking at him like he grew a second head. "what do you mean, this! i can't take it, calling me nicknames and pet names, flirting with me constantly, sleeping over, acting different around me than your friends. friends don't do this, so you need to st-" and with that explanation, he gently grabs your head, leans down, flutters his eyes shut, and places his lips onto yours.

the scent you know and learned to love floods your senses, and with that brief moment of confusion, he grabs your waist and pulls you in closer, deepening the kiss. and considering this is all you've wanted for the past months, you allow him to take your lips, kissing him back with the same softness.

after moments pass you by, eventually he lets go of you, wanting to look at your reaction. "y/n, i really like you. i kinda... always have. even since we were in middle school." your mouth opens to say something, but you let him speak. "you were always so... cool. and i just... i wanted to be something to impress you... if i'm being honest, i knew you were going here, to this college, sun told me, so i wanted a chance, a possibility, anything to impress you."

he lets go of you, reaches into his pocket to fish out the matching bracelets. "these are beautiful y/n. but, it would be more beautiful if i could put this on you, use this as a courting gift even, and show you that i really do like you, and i want to be yours."

he unclasps the bracelet, handing out in front of him. "will you let me?" you reach your arm out, allowing him to put it on you.

"yes, nishimura riki."

᧔◍᧓

with that, nothing really changed. except for the fact that you and ni-ki are now dating, of course.

people around you realized that the cool nonchalant guy was ni-ki from the dance group enhypen, giving him massive amounts of popularity quickly (you didn't even know popularity in college existed...)

however, it also came to light the fact that you were dating ni-ki, and you slowly began to be known as y/n: the ni-ki tamer, which was crazy in your opinion, but ni-ki loved the title, so you let it slide.

other than that, you started to become integrated with the rest of enhypen, the rest of the members seeing how ni-ki changes when he's with you, but they realized it was for the better as you all hung out, as they saw a side of him that didn't even know existed.

you loved enhypen, they took you in as their own and integrated you into their friend group, even giving you free dance lessons just so you could also join in some of their choreos.

"guys," you pant, exhausted from the lesson ni-ki was giving you. "why did you not tell me that ni-ki is considered the best dancer in this fucking group? and why did you let me take lessons from him?" you complain to the rest of enhypen, who are watching from the sides.

"you have to suffer like we have," jake shouts while jungwon cheers for you.

sunoo and jay also just laugh, the former explaining, "i swear, before you, ni-ki was a fucking nightmare if we didn't get the choreo correct."

"alright, enough talking, more dancing, y/n, one more time."

you love ni-ki. but damn sometimes you regret falling for him.

...

nah, not really though.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: when i started this chapter i had intended for it to go in a completely different direction but as i began writing it, i let the words flow and wrote it this way instead. i really hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback and remember to send in things you'd like to see in this series. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of handjobs and blowjobs, slight angst, pillow talk, cunilingus, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - friends to lovers trope - softrry }

word count- 3,459

While making arrangements to introduce your friends to Harry, he seizes the chance to ask about your abrupt departure after your intimate encounter earlier that day. This conversation unexpectedly leads to Harry performing oral sex on you for the first time.

As you make your way around the street corner, you are greeted by your friends, Mave and Charlotte, who are waving you over to the table they had set aside for your brunch. The cafe features a beautiful outdoor space, perfect for the current time of year. Upon joining them, they quickly pick up on your more upbeat attitude. While you typically don't appear gloomy, you have been feeling rather indifferent for the past year. However today, they observe a slight improvement in your mood.

"Hi, Hi." you lean in to kiss each of their cheeks and sit down at the round table.

"We've ordered you a mimosa. Wasn't sure what you wanted to eat so we haven't ordered our food yet though." Charlotte explans.

"Oh, well thank you." you take a sip of your mimosa and moan at how delicious the drink is.

"What's making you so cheerful today? Is it because of Harry?" Mave questions with cheeky smile, aware of your growing connection with your housemate and the recent revelation of your mutual feelings towards one another. Your friends are genuinely happy for you, knowing how long you've been single and how it affected you.

Brushing them off, you answer, "What? A girl can't look happy on a Sunday morning without there being a reason?" But they know you better then that. The aurora you're giving off is one of a girl who's in love. Though they wouldn't tell you that this soon in your relationship with Harry.

"No it's just," Mave starts, "look, we want the details. Did you guys have sex this morning? Because you look like your glowing and it's not from your skincare routine." Her and Charlotte stare you down, waiting for an answer and you know you must give them one. Otherwise they'll never let this conversation rest.

"Alright, alright. We did do some sexual stuff this morning. But not sex. I just kind of gave him a handjob which then turned into a blowjob."

Your two friends are smiling ear to ear at your confession. "And.... what else? Don't tell us he left you high and dry after you literally had his dick in your mouth." Charlotte utters in a hushed yet audible tone, ensuring that you can hear her amidst the bustling traffic and crowd, while hopefully keeping your conversation private from others.

You express with annoyance in your tone, "It wasn't as you think. I woke up to find him cuddling me and noticed he was aroused. Therefore, I chose to assist him. Once he woke up and realized he was hard, he eventually agreed to my help. I began by giving him a handjob under his briefs, but then decided to go further with a blowjob. And he didn't reciprocate because I left quickly after he came. So, I'm unsure whether he would've wanted to do something for me in return."

Mave reaches across the table and playfully swats your arm. "You fuckin' idiot. You should have stayed to see if he would've pleasured you as well. You could've gotten an amazing orgasm out of him."

"Hey," you spit back, "I did have an amazing orgasm this morning. Just... with my vibrator in the shower before I came here." Though you're sure Harry would beat every single one of your toys if you gave him the chance to prove it.

After chatting for a few more minutes you realized just how hungry you were and decided to order your food and another round of mimosas. You catch up on each others lives and make plans for them to come by the house to hang out one night. They have yet to meet Harry and you thought what better way to introduce them than to invite them over for some drinks and maybe a card game. You'll just have to ask him if that would be okay.

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

Upon returning home later that evening, you notice Harry seated on the sofa, engrossed in a pile of papers and his laptop resting on his lap. Presumably grading tests, you assume. After placing your bag in the entryway, you make your way over to the couch. Surprisingly, the atmosphere doesn't feel as awkward as you had anticipated, considering the events that unfolded earlier in the day.

"How was your brunch?" Harry questions, shifting to set all of his work onto the coffee table.

"Great. Really fun." you answer before continuing, "So I have a question."

"Hm, so do I actually but go on." Harry replies, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn't know what your question is but he knows his question is in reference to why you ran off so quickly this morning after you gave him that blowjob. It's been eating at his mind all day and he'd really like some closure so he can relax.

"Okay, so I was thinking we could have a little get-together with my friends, Mave and Charlotte. They're eager to meet you, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to invite them over this upcoming weekend. We can enjoy some drinks and perhaps even play that card game I purchased some time ago but haven't had the chance to play yet."

Harry nods in agreement. "Yeah, sounds great. How about this Friday night? I can stop by the shops on my way home from work and grab some alcohol. Just let me know what kind they prefer." He is genuinely excited to finally meet your friends. Since becoming your housemate, you've kept your personal life mostly private from him. As a result, he hasn't had the chance to meet any of your family members and has only heard stories about your friends.

"Fantastic," you declare, jumping up from the couch excitedly. "I'll call them right away and let them know. They'll be so happy." Just as Harry was about to remind you that he had a question as well, you've already disappeared from his line of sight. Your sudden departures today seem to be a trend. He reckons he'll have to wait a bit longer to find out the reasoning behind your quick exit this morning.

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

At approximately ten o'clock at night, you and Harry are lying in your bed, watching reruns of Friends while trying to stay awake. The room is dark besides the glare of the tv and his cat Pixie is nestled in the middle of the bed, sleeping soundly. Although she hasn't always been allowed in your room, ever since Harry started visiting so frequently, you have embraced her presence as well.

Right as your eyes began to shut, you remember how Harry had a question for you earlier but never got to ask it. You didn't mean to run off like you did. You just got excited to call your friends and let them know they're welcomed to come by the house this Friday for the small gathering. Which in turn made you totally forget he had a question in the first place.

"Harry," you say aloud. The call of his name startles him. He'd just dozed off to sleep and your voice pulled him away from the unconsciousness he was about to enter.

"Mhm, what?" he grumbles, eyes half open as he tries to stay awake in order to hear you speak.

"What's your question? You said earlier you had a question but you never got to ask me it."

Harry found himself more awake as he thought about how to bring up his question. To be honest, he was feeling a bit nervous to ask. Even though this question had been on his mind all day, he hesitated to ask, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or create any distance between you. "Um, was just gonna ask why you left so suddenly this mornin'. You know, after you gave me that blowjob? It seemed like you were ashamed of your actions or somethin'. I was plannin' to return the favor, but you left before I had the opportunity to ask."

With heart shaped eyes, you coo softly, "You were?"

"Well yeah. It's only right that I returned the favor you did for me. I'm not a douche bag like some men can be."

"Awe, that's so sweet of you. But um, I don't know. Guess I remembered how I'd just woke up and maybe didn't smell the best down there or that I may have tasted bad from the hours of sleep I was in prior. Just didn't want to disgust you in any way."

With a gentle tone, Harry expressed, "Y/n, your scent or taste wouldn't have been an issue for me. Even if it was there, I wouldn't have mind. Because it's you, and I genuinely care about you. I would have found pleasure in it regardless. If anyone has ever made you feel insecure about the natural smell of your vagina, they are truly right dicks"

Breathing deeply, you sadly admit, "Yeah, I've had some men attempt to go down on me first thing in the morning but complained about the way I smelt or tasted and so, I just didn't want you to do the same as them."

Sliding impossibly close to you, Harry responds back, "Well I'm not those other men. I respect women more than that and I may just have a thing for oral sex. Givin' and receivin'. Plus, it feels even better when you really know and trust the person."

You giggle shyly and except his closeness, the two of you laying on your sides facing each other. "Dick or pussy though?"

"What?" Harry asks with a sleepy smile, unsure of what you're questioning.

"You said you had a thing for oral sex. So do you prefer sucking dick or eating pussy?"

"Mhm, depends on who the person is and my connection to them. Both are great but it also depends on what mood I'm in to give you a solid answer." It's no secret Harry likes men as well. When you first moved in with him he had a short fling with a guy and you assumed he was gay for like the first month. But then when you heard a girl moaning through his bedroom walls, you realized that wasn't the case. The next day you questioned him and he confidently came out as bisexual to you.

Deciding to continue these questions just to see where it could lead, you keep going, "And, what mood are you in right now?"

Harry suddenly became aware of the dense atmosphere, yet he responded truthfully. "Considerin' that I'm currently in your bed, nearly cuddling you, and you happen to possess a vagina, I would say 'pussy.' However, if I were to discover that you possessed a penis, the answer would be 'cock.'"

He moves one of his hands up to cradle the side of your face. It's so incredibly close to his that he can just about taste the mint of your toothpaste. "Good thing I have one of those two options then and I'm not some alien with no genitals at all."

What Harry wants to say is that he'd love you just the same, even if you were a genitalless alien, but he can't. Not yet anyways. So he responds, "Wouldn't change how I feel about you." With the close proximity, you get the sudden urge to surge forward and clash your lips with his. As if he felt this coming, Harry didn't react surprised at all and accepts the kiss. You both realized this is the first time you've kissed each other. You've shared your feelings, your beds, and you've gave him a blowjob. Yet this makes your first time kissing.

Harry intensifies the kiss by gently prodding his tongue against your lips, and you grant him permission to enter. The kiss is wet, rushed, and somewhat messy, yet incredibly enjoyable. After a minute of exchanging saliva, you pull back to take a deep breath and confidently state, "Prove it then. Prove you're in the mood for some pussy."

With surprise written on his face, Harry leans back a tiny bit to make sure he's reading you correctly. "You sure? I don't have to if......" He'd be more than happy to eat you out right here, right now, but he doesn't want you to ask because you feel obligated to agree or because you're in the heat of the moment.

Responding eagerly, you assert, "Yes, I'm sure. But please be quick before I change my mind." The mention of urgency and the potential for a change of mind prompts Harry to swiftly toss the covers back and carefully positions himself between your legs. He gently lifts Pixie from the bed and places her on the floor where she discovers her cat bed near the window sill and resumes her peaceful sleep.

At this very moment, Harry finds himself surprisingly nervous as he positions himself between your legs. Although he has longed to perform oral sex on you, both this morning and in his countless fantasies, the actual prospect of doing so fills him with apprehension that he may not satisfy you adequately. Additionally, he frets over the possibility of being unable to bring you to orgasm.

Curiosity arose within you as to why Harry was taking such a long time, prompting you to prop yourself up on your elbows. From this viewpoint, you observed him fixating on your bottom half, which was concealed by some skimpy shorts you typically sleep in. However, as soon as he notices your gaze upon him, he swiftly reaches up and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs. To his astonishment, you're not wearing any panties which causing Harry to let out a moan upon catching sight of your naked pussy.

Despite the room being enveloped in a soft glow from the television, it remained dimly lit and quiet. Harry couldn't obtain a clear image of your exposed cunt but he could perceive enough to develop a strong liking to it already. However, this attraction isn't solely based on the physical appearance of your vagina, but rather because it's a part of you.

Harry looks up once more to ensure your approval for his actions. With a nod of reassurance from you, he eagerly begins. His mouth envelops your entire pussy, as his tongue moves from your wet entrance to your sensitive clit. The flavor of you on his tongue almost brings him to climax instantly, hands free. This is undoubtedly the best cunt he's ever had. Your skin is incredibly soft and inviting, with only a few short hairs littered around your bikini area from the shave you did two days ago.

As your elbows grow weaker, you find yourself sinking into the comfortable bed below. Harry's tongue skillfully laps up your arousal before focusing on your clit and experimenting with various flicking patterns. Each time his tongue glides over the sensitive nerves, your entire body responds with a powerful jolt of electricity. It's no secret that your clit is extremely sensitive when receiving attention from the right person.

"Oh fuck, Harry. Feels so good." you moan aloud, reaching down to grab onto his curly locks.

You fear he'll tell you not to touch him, but as he briefly moves his mouth away, he commands, "Tug my hair, baby. It feels amazing." Could it be that he just referred to you as 'baby' for the first time? You believe so, and it heightens your arousal even further.

Listening to Harry's wishes, you pull his hair tightly in your fists, causing his face to be nestled against your pussy impossibly closer than before. You begin to move your hips, creating a subtle rocking motion. Although he may feel a slight burning sensation on his scalp due to the intensity of your grip, as he mentioned, he loves the sensation it gives.

A minute more goes by of Harry munching down on your wet pussy when you feel your orgasm nearly bubble over. "I... I'm..." you try to warn but can't even get the words out from how much pleasure you're in. Harry doesn't say a word back, just goes in even harder, more determined to bring you over the edge.

You finally achieve orgasm when he seals his lips around your clit, applying firm and forceful sucks. Your clitoris pulsates within his mouth, causing you to release an animalistic scream as your orgasm sweeps through your body. Your entire body trembles, compelling Harry to firmly hold your hips to keep you in place. He continues sucking on your clit until your orgasm begins to fade and overstimulation sets in.

The hands that once laced in his hair start trying to push his head away. "Har.... Oh God!" you gasp when he gives your tiny nerve a few more kitten licks to make sure he's pulled every ounce of pleasure from you that he can. You lie there trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm as Harry sits up on his knees, breathing heavy with a glossy mouth.

Eager to know, though the answer should be evident with how you look right now, Harry asks, "So.... was I any good? Did that prove what mood I was in to you?"

You glance forward to see a devilish smile plastered on Harry's face and just know he's proud of himself. Which, he should. You don't think you've ever came so hard in your entire life. "Yes," you heave, "Oh God, yes. I'm...., that was, God. That was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"Yeah? You just tellin' me that to boost my ego or are you tellin' the truth?"

"Harry, I quit literally can't feel my bones right now. They're like jello. No man nor any one of my strongest vibrators have made me come that hard. No wonder the ladies liked you."

With the awareness that it's already very late and he has work the next morning, Harry decides to rise from the bed and make his way to the bathroom in the hallway to fetch a damp cloth. Your exhaustion prevents you from mustering the energy to question his actions. When he returns, you immediately recognize what he has and instinctively close your legs, still experiencing discomfort.

Harry takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and lightly taps your thighs, silently requesting you to open up. Reluctantly, you comply. As you feel the damp cloth glide over your swollen pussy, you try to pull away, but he firmly holds you in place with one hand on your hip bone. "Shh, it's alright," he reassures you in a gentle tone. "I'm just gonna clean you up, and then we can sleep, okay?"

As you lie on the bed, you notice Harry's erection prominently displayed through his black briefs and a pang of guilt washes over you for not pleasuring him. "But.......what about you? You're still hard. I could give you another blowjob or handjob. Whatever you want." Despite the tempting offer, Harry is too exhausted to engage in any additional activities tonight. Prior to this moment, he was on the brink of unconsciousness. Consequently, his drowsy state has returned as the explicit actions have ceased.

"It'll eventually go away, Y/n. I've got work in the mornin' and it's past midnight as is. Plus m'too tired to do anythin' more tonight. But, if I wasn't so tired and didn't have work so early, then you bet your ass I'd take you up on that offer."

Harry finishes cleaning between your legs and helps you slip your shorts back on. He then turns the TV off and crawls back into your bed beside you. Though your limbs are still weak, you manage to slide over until your head rests on his bare chest and your top leg is thrown over his hairy thigh closest to you.

As the moonlight glows through your bedroom window, sleep takes over both of you as the world around becomes quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are Pixie's soft purring from her location on the floor, the steadiness of Harry's heartbeat, and your exhails of breath.

In your dreaming state, you're still excited for the arrival of this upcoming Friday where you eagerly await the moment when your friends will finally have the chance to meet Harry. With high hopes for a successful gathering, you envision a joyous time ahead. Unbeknownst to Harry, the card game planned for the small get-together holds an R rating, implying that it will serve as an opportunity for everyone to bond and deepen their connections without the need for uncomfortable conversations in the future. Plus, mixed with the alcohol, you can't wait to find out some of Harry's dirty secrets.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

[itsjustrosee]

hiii love, not sure if you’re taking requests for Minho (maze runner) but if you are, could you write one where shy fem reader gets caught in a situation where her shirt accidentally rips up in front of everyone in the glade (you can choose the interesting situation of how that occurs lol) and she is bare, then feels vulnerable cause the gladers start whistling and stuff but Minho immediately takes his shirt off and covers her to protect her.

She feels safe with him and he is protective of her even though they haven’t talk much as she hardly sees him cause he’s a runner- mutual pining ig 🥰. And maybe it could end in some spice hehehe

stop it this is literally such a cute prompt I squealed when I read this. And spice is my specialty so I'm glad you asked me to include that😜. I hope I've done your idea justice!! And yes I am always taking requests and looking for new things to write so honestly ask away!!

PROTECTIVE (Minho x fem!reader (one-shot))

Context: Pre Thomas, look for summary above ^

Warnings: Cursing and spice

Word count: 2.8k (sorry this one was a bit short)

! I proof read but there might still be spelling mistakes !

Being the only girl in the glade was definitely a struggle at times. Obviously Alby had set up rules and regulations for all of the other gladers to follow to try and make you feel as comfortable and welcomed in the glade as possible, but there was only so much he could do. Though no one had tried anything physical with you, you always found a way to overhear hushed conversations regarding you and your body.

However, during your time in the glade you were able to become close with Chuck, Newt, and a few other boys. You could always find yourself laughing and hanging out with them the way they did with everyone else. They never treated you differently just because you were a girl, which is what you had grown to greatly appreciate.

You had been in the glade for a little while. In fact, today had been the 4th month since your arrival, and you knew this because a new greenie ascended from the box this morning.

His reaction getting out of the box was to be expected. He gave the normal theatrics, looking like he was about to have a panic attack, asking question after question, and then actually having a panic attack. But unfortunately he was harder to calm down then most. And being keeper of the medjacks, and baring the title of, 'the caring one' around the glade, it was up to you to calm him down. You didn't mind it though, he was a really sweet kid and he didn't even look to be much older then Chuck.

"I feel bad for the poor greenie." Newt sighed before continuing. "I mean, I feel bad for everyone who has to come down here and deal with the whole 'trapped in a maze' bit, but he's just really young." Newt explained while he plucked a blade of grass from the ground and held it in his hand. You and Newt always tended to come and hang out by the garden whenever neither of you were out working. And because you were finally able to get the new guy to calm down, he was taking a nap on one of the beds in the medhut, and since the medhut had been particularly slow otherwise, you and Newt were able to talk a bit before dinner and the bonfire.

"Yeah, I get what you're saying." You say with an exhale. "It's still difficult to come to terms with this whole thing, even after being here for a few months." Newt gave you a silent nod after you said that and neither of you said anything afterwards.

Newt was always good company. Neither of you had to talk and fill the air with conversation because being silent around each other was almost comforting in a way.

The silence between the both of you had been broken though, when you both saw Minho and the rest of the runners run out of the maze and begin jogging towards you both, probably heading to the maze room. The maze doors began to close, incasing you in glade for yet another night.

As Minho passed you and Newt, he greeted both of you with a wave and continued to jog past you.

Though you have been in the glade for a bit, you and Minho had never really spoken to each other before. Your schedules definitely didn't allow for you guys to talk to each other, considering he was always in the maze and you were always in the medhut. However, there was something about him that totally drew you in, you just didn't know what it was.

"Someone has a crush, huh?" Newt said with a smirk as he turned his head to look at yours. Immediately you turned your attention back to Newt.

Shit you were totally staring at Minho just then.

"A crush? Your talking like a child right now Newt." You say with a bit of an attitude.

"Well it's not like you're denying it." Newt says with a chuckle as he begins to stand up from his sitting position on the ground.

"Oh slim it." You say while rolling your eyes and taking Newts hand as he helped you up so you can both start heading to dinner.

Both you and Newt woke up the greenie and took him to dinner, and the evening continued like any other. Everyone was welcoming of him and it was good to see him laughing and actually talking to people.

Eventually, Gally and a couple others began to set up for the bonfire, so you took the quick opportunity to freshen up in your hut. It was honestly really nice of Alby to force Gally and the other builders to make you one just so you felt like you had enough privacy.

You changed into a pair of shorts and changed out of your tank top. You put on one of your favorite/ only shirts, which was the perfect balance of baggy yet tight on you. It was going to get colder throughout the night so you wanted to have a bit more clothing on, and you also couldn't stand the idea of being in your tank top for another second. Definitely not after sweating your ass off in it the entire day.

You joined up with everyone else and soon the festivities began. Everyone, including yourself, was drinking Gally's very shity brew and of course the greenie almost puked after one sip. Needless to say, the drink was a bit of an acquired taste, but he would get used to it. Gally was playing that stupid wrestling game with the rest of the gladers and everything was going as per usual.

You had found yourself a seat on a bench next to Newt, and you allowed your back to rest on the bench, letting out a sigh as you began to relax. You sat closer to everyone else than where you would normally sit, because you were still trying to keep your eye on the greenie. Minho, Chuck, and a group of about 10 others were sat down with you on surrounding benches. Voices and jokes filled the air and your stomach began to hurt from laughing so much.

It was times like these that mattered most when you were in the glade. It reminded you that though you were all trapped here, at least you were making the best of it. Without this type of structure, you'd bet that even Alby would've gone mad by now.

"Hey I'm going to get another drink, do you mind coming with?" Newt asked me, already up out of his seat and in front of me.

"Yeah sure, I could use another glass anyways." You explained while taking his hand.

All of this would've been fine if your shirt hadn't snagged on a loose nail from the bench.

As newt pulled you up from your seat neither of you had realized what had happened until way too late, the damage was already done by that point. Your shirt wasn't made out of the best material, so the entire thing had completely ripped off of you.

So there you were. Stood in front of an enormous group of boys wearing nothing but your bra, which only provided the bare minimum amount of coverage.

Apparently the rip from your shirt was loud enough to earn the attention of everyone, even Gally's group who was stood further away from you. It took you, along with everyone else, a moment to fully comprehend the situation. And in that moment you would've been more then happy if a griever showed up and swallowed you whole. Nothing compared to the amount of embarrassment you were feeling in that moment. Especially not when you began to hear whistles and laughs from some of the boys.

By this point you had both of your hands covering your chest, and your mind was completely blank. What the hell were you even supposed to do in a situation like this? It would take you ages to live this down, and of course something like this had to happen right when you thought everyone was getting over the fact you were a girl.

Newt stood there staring at you along with everyone else in the group of people who were sitting with you. You could see a couple guys in front of you let out laugh a laugh, which only caused your eyes to well up with tears.

You had never cried in the glade. Not once. You couldn't let yourself.

You didn't cry when you arrived from the box, or even when you were ostracized for being the only girl. But still you couldn't help but feel so utterly humiliated.

Even though it had felt like you stood there on display for hours, it had only been at least five seconds since your shirt had ripped off. Before anyone else could turn their heads to look at you, Minho got up suddenly.

He took his shirt off quickly while walking over to you, and you took your arms away from your chest, allowing him to pull his shirt onto you so you were no longer stood half naked in front of anyone. You were shocked by his gesture. Out of all the people in the glade, you had never thought he would be the one to protect you like this, but you were thanking god he did.

As he stood towering over you for a couple more seconds you couldn't help but take in what he looked like shirtless. And jeez, lets just say all this running he does pays off. He looked like he had been carved out of stone by the gods. His abs looked chiseled on, and you were going absolutely feral for it. In the most respectful way possible though of course.

Half of the glade looked just as shocked as you, and the rest looked disappointed. You heard groans and curses from Gally's group, as if they were annoyed with Minho.

"Oh come on Minho, you really had to ruin it for everyone, huh?" Gally said, and it was obvious that he was already through multiple glasses of his moonshine. His snarky comment was warranted by a couple of snickers and laughs from the other boys sitting with him. Minho turned around to face him and at this point they were stood with a bit of distance between each other, but still not much. And it was safe to say that Minho looked like he was about to maul Gally.

"What did you just say?" Minho questioned, his voice dark and menacing as he began taking steps towards Gally.

"Oh what, you going to defend your girlfriend?" Gally contested while slurring and hiccupping between words, getting in Minho's face as he said it.

"She doesn't have to be my girlfriend for me to treat her like a normal shucking person, Gally." Minho said while firmly standing his ground.

It was quiet for a moment before any other response was made. You and the rest of the glade were just staring at them, and honestly you were thankful that the attention was finally off of you.

If it wasn't for Alby pulling the two boys apart, the night would've ended with someone bloody and bruised, and someone, or both of them, ending up in the pit.

Alby pushed Gally away and grabbed onto Minho's shoulder as he led Minho back over to me. "Minho take (Y/N) back to her hut and get her situated. I'll deal with Gally." Alby says, clearly annoyed with what the night had turned into.

You and Minho both silently began walking back to your hut. You wanted to thank him, you needed to thank him, but you just didn't know how you were going to. As he opened the door to your hut and both of you stepped in, he closed the door and you just stood looking at him. You were still flustered from him being, you know, without a shirt, but you had to compose yourself.

"Thank you Minho. For um- you know, giving me your shirt and stuff." You say while looking at the ground, your cheeks red from embarrassment as you painfully recall the whole situation.

"It was no problem really." Minho said as you looked back up at him.

"Yeah it's just- I don't know what I would've done without you-" And although it sounded cliché, you meant it. Your voice began to break after trying to continue, your words getting caught in your throat. Before you could compose yourself enough to say anything else, Minho brought you into his arms gently, and hugged you. His warm embrace made you feel safe and secure, and immediately your worries washed away as you hugged him harder. You buried your head into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist and he wrapped his around yours.

You could've stayed like that for hours, but you forced your head away from his chest and looked up at him, staring deep into his eyes and he did the same. There was a thick tension in the air as you felt the temperature in your hut increase.

Minho tucked a piece of your hair back behind your ear, "I'll always be here to protect you." Minho says while giving you a genuine smile, your stomach doing somersaults as you completely folded under his gaze. As your eyes followed his for a moment longer, you noticed them glance at your lips and before you could even process it, he kissed you.

You stood there shocked and bewildered, this night had been an absolute rollercoaster of fucking emotions and you were not prepared for it once so ever.

After not reciprocating the kiss Minho pulled away, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to- I don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of you or something- I-" But before he could finish his sentence you kissed him back, your lips merging into his completely, as if you were two magnets that were completely drawn together naturally.

The kiss was passionate yet gentle, and you practically melted into him. You let his tongue explore the inside of your mouth and your lips worked against his in unison. For all you knew, Minho was the first boy you had ever kissed, and you were totally fine with that. You didn't even need to kiss any other boy to know that Minho did it best.

You took one of your hands and kept it on his back, caressing his muscles on his upper back. While your other hand found it's way to his nape and you began to take his hair between your fingers, tugging at them more whenever he kissed you harder.

He kept one of his hands by your waist and the other at your back, trying to bring you as close to him as he possibly could. He held you as if you were the only thing worth holding onto, and he was never willing to let you go.

You could feel the heat radiating off of Minho as he pinned you against one of the walls in your hut next to the door. You were left completely breathless once Minho pulled away, biting at your bottom lip as he then continued to kiss you down your jaw. You could feel him begin to suck at the sensitive part part of skin between your neck and collar bone, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth.

Minho continued to kiss down your collar bone and as low as your shirt's neck line would let him. You could feel his kisses become more sloppy and desperate. It was as if he couldn't wait to get his hands on more of you, and you couldn't wait to give yourself in to him.

You pushed him off and quickly took off your shirt, tossing it to the ground as Minho stared at you. He put his arms around you again and smirked as he began to kiss you, more hungrily this time.

"I'll never let anyone else in the glade see you like this again. I promise." He said between kisses. The sincerity in his voice was prominent.

You could tell that all of what Minho had said was true. If any other boy tried to touch you, or even look at you in the wrong way, he would be there to protect you.

In that moment you had realized that no one would be able to make you feel the way Minho made you feel. He satisfied all of your desires and he fulfilled you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You were everything he wanted, and he was everything you wanted. But more importantly, he made you feel safe, like as long as you were in his arms he would never let anything bad happen to you.

Then suddenly, there was a nock on the door. Then it swung open abruptly.

"Hey um (Y/N), I really wanted to apologize for earlier-" But before Gally could say anything else, he turned his head and saw you and Minho, half naked and pressed against each other.

"Oh shuck- I didn't mean to- I'll leave now." And with that, he was out of the door as quickly as he entered it.

ok guys heres another!! I really hoped that yall liked it. I had quite the fun time writing this and I think it turned out pretty well!

btw I'm going to start working on pt.2 to stranded, and I should have it finished relatively soon, but I've never written smut before so that's going to be quite interesting. But seriously thank you to everyone who wrote nice things under that post you have no idea how much it means to me ❤️❤️

[cafejulii]

Truly one of the most amazing things I have come to discover during the reemergence of my hunter x hunter hyperfixation is the entirety of Leokuraudio. The events/punchlines that occur in them are so baffling to me in the best way possible.

For instance, what on earth do you mean that the creators of hxh 1999 decided to make a spin-off audio series that begins by introducing Leorio as an old man, and his grandson? The grandson finds a discarded set of audio tapes. When he confronts Leorio about what they are, he is hit by a massive wave of nostalgia, and tells his grandchild about how they were a podcast series he made back in the day while traveling the world, with, in his own words, his "very best friend" (Kurapika). They then begin to listen to the tapes, which is how we get the whole story.

What on earth do you mean there is an episode where Kurapika goes in a time machine to met Grandpa Leorio? Only, after he is done and decides to return back to the present, the machine is malfunctions and standing before him is Leorio as a toddler. He repeatedly begins to insist that Kurapika is a woman to which Kurapika is so annoyed by that he ends up yelling at a literal child. (By the way, Toddler Leorio still has the voice of a fully grown man as he continues to insult Kurapika.)

What on earth do you mean that are multiple episodes revolving around a robot that Leorio had built to perfectly resemble Kurapika? He had attempted to use it for cleaning and to take care of him while he was sick, only, Kurapika-robo starts to malfunction at the very mention of a spider's web and begins to repeatedly scream "chain" as it pelts Leorio with an actual chain. (Gon and Killua are even aware of the robot's existence while Kurapika himself remains oblivious of the whole charade until one of the very last episodes, where he walks in, shocked to find his mechanical evil twin. Leorio's only reaction to being caught is to exclaim "Ah the real one!!")

Speaking of Leorio, what on earth do you mean these audios consist of episodes of Leorio falling off Heaven's Arena, Leorio almost dying in an avalanche, Leorio getting lost in space....? (In short, Leorio goes through a lot but he has plot armor and Kurapika's assistance so it’s ok.)

And speaking of Kurapika, what on earth do you mean Leokuraudio has one of the most stoic characters within the entire series actually end up giving in to his phenomenal sense of humor? They really had him interrupting Leorio just to scream "that was ball!" in response to his attempted english pronunciations. There are so many more instances in which he does sassy shit like this too.

What on earth do you mean that each episode has unique, overly dramatic introduction for both Kurapika and Leorio? (There was one that specifically introduced Kurapika as the "sort of guy that when dressed as a woman gets hit on by other guys" and Leorio as "the sort of guy that when dressed as a woman gets arrested.")

What on earth do you mean that the entire comedic punchline of the "moody" audios is that they are essentially just clean parodies sensual/erotic audios from the 90’s? (described as "echi echi" by the two of them). Hearing the both of them say “soooo moody” to one another over and over again in the most suggestive voice ever was just....an experience to say the least. I truly cannot fathom how Togashi allowed these audios to air, yet, I am so grateful he did.

But it's also just mainly so fun to watch Kurapika and Leorio not be in a constant crisis and just have strings of conversation that are genuinely very sweet at times. I could go on and on, but for the sake of the length of this post, in conclusion, everything about Leokuraudio is just so utterly surreal yet so insanely hilarious. I couldn’t recommend it more.

@nanacriedpower this one is for u

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, a literal holiday romcom, stancy, 2.7k

<3

3 Months Later

Before we knew it, the holiday season had come around and it seemed like we were all scrambling to find gifts for each other. Nancy and Jonathan invited me to go Christmas shopping with them, seeing that we'd become very close in the past few months. Our shared trauma had a lot to do with that.

Jonathan had just called me and told me he'd be at my house five minutes ago. I glance at the clock again before returning my gaze out the window.

With a sigh, I trudge over to the phone hanging on the wall, starting to call Nancy's number. That's when I hear a car rolling into my driveway.

I grab my jacket, pulling it tight to my body before opening the front door and walking cheerfully outside. I instantly freeze, not because of the cold, but when I spot the maroon car sitting in my driveway.

Steve sends me a shy wave from inside his car. I hesitantly wave back before walking towards the passenger door and sitting inside.

"Hey," I say as Steve turns the heat up noticing my shivering figure, "I was supposed to be going shopping with Jonathan and Nancy."

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck, "Nance called and said something came up and asked if I could step in."

Also in the past few months, Nancy and Steve got back together. He really did love that girl.

"Oh well," I say buckling my seatbelt with a bright smile, "I guess we're doing this together then, Harrington."

"Yeah, I guess so, Henderson."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Steve walks behind me with a smile as I skip around the town while it snows. I stop at every window of every shop checking to see if anything catches my eye to give to one of my friends.

Steve seems to be struggling with what to get Nancy so I have to help him out a bit.

"How about that?" I tell Steve pointing at the pretty bracelet laying in the window of the local jewelry shop.

After a few moments, Steve slowly comes up to stand beside me, his warm presence filling the air as he glances at the bracelet on display. I continue to gaze in the window, my eyes locking on a silver necklace with a ring for a pendant. My gaze lingers there for a moment before I turn my attention back to Steve, who has been watching me this whole time with those eyes.

"Yeah, that's perfect." Steve says, breaking the silence, by referring to the bracelet I'd pointed out.

"Okay, great," I reply walking towards the door to the shop, "Lets go get it."

"Wait," Steve says, grabbing my arm before I can open the door, "I'll get it. You go ahead to the next place, I'll meet you there." He says quickly and I don't question it. I just nod and start my walk to the next store.

As I walk down the sidewalk, my feet crunching into the snow, I think about what I could get for Steve. I glance at the bags in my hands, feeling a pang of guilt and embarrassment as I realize I've gotten everyone something, except for him. He's never been the hardest to shop for, but the pressure of getting Steve the perfect gift is starting to get to me. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to let some creativity in, but so far, nothing comes to mind.

Suddenly, I hear quick footsteps coming from behind me. As I open my eyes I'm met with Steve who slows his stride before stopping by my side with a couple more small bags in hand.

Steve seems to notice something is up as he tilts his head to one side with a confused look, "You okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah, no, I'm good." I say when we begin to walk through the freshly powered snow. "I'm just thinking."

"About me, I hope?" Steve replies with a smug smile on his face.

"It's always about you, Harrington."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

The next day was Christmas Eve. Today I would be going over to the Wheeler's house to pick up Dustin from the boys' D&D campaign and hand out my gifts. And I still don't have anything for Steve.

I'm starting to freak out a little bit.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts racing with each breath I take. As the words repeat over and over in my head, I can't help but think of Steve.

Steve. Steve. Steve. What would Steve like?

I sit up in bed, as the exhaustion builds inside of me. Wanting to take a break from the constant thoughts of Steve, I decide to leave the house in search of some fresh air. I grab my jacket and head towards downtown, finding a quiet bench, wiping the fresh snow off before sitting down.

As I watch the people and couples stroll by, I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace and relief.

Then, I hear soft footsteps crunching through the snow, approaching me. I look up to see an old lady, probably in he 80's, sitting down next to me, her soft and gentle eyes gazing at me with warmth and kindness. She smiles, and I respond with one of my own. The two of us share a peaceful moment, the snow falling slowly around us and sparkling in the light.

"Hey," I turn slowly towards the lady, "Could you maybe help me with something?"

"What can I help you with, honey?" The lady replies kindly.

"Um, so I have this friend, and I haven't found a gift for him yet." I let out a small sigh before continuing, "I just don't know what to do because I want it to be perfect." I finish, glancing back at the lady who just smiles.

"This friend must be very special, huh?" She asks with a certain look hiding behind those soft eyes.

"Yeah." I respond, almost dreamily, "He is."

"If you mean as much to him as he does to you, I don't think it would matter what you get him," The lady says, that soft smile never leaving her face, "As long as it's from the heart." She finishes, holding her hand up to her chest, where her heart is.

I finally know what I want to give to Steve thanks to a sudden inspiration courtesy of a random old lady's brilliant mind. I quickly thank her before rushing home so I can get the gift done before I have to head over to the Wheeler's.

Frantically, I rummage through my room, searching for the old camera Steve and I used to use together. I find it in an unexpected spot, under my bed, before heading back into town to a local shop where I can get the photos developed. I wait impatiently while the pictures dry. When they're finally done, I grab them stuffing them into my bag before going home. I grin as I shut my bedroom door behind me, knowing they'll make the perfect gift for Steve.

I slip the pictures into a small envelope before grabbing a sheet of paper to write a letter to Steve. With a clear and steady hand, I start to write, my thoughts and emotions flowing as I compose the perfect message for the one who has always meant the world to me.

As I write, a flood of memories come rushing into my mind.

"Is it a little strange? Sure, but it's also romantic. When I heard it for the first time, it reminded me of you."

I smile as I remember that night we'd spent on his bedroom floor. I remember his warm smile, the gentle touches, the mix-tape we'd never finished.

"I don't really know who you are anymore Steve."

"Then let me show you,"

I pause in my writing to dwell on the night Steve snuck into my room, all those months ago. That was the night our friendship was truly reborn in a moment of secrecy and trust.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, freak."

A single tear slips out, fueled by the bitter memory of what Steve called me months ago. I let my anger and frustration spill into the paper, letting which lets the rest of my emotions loose.

"Whoa, (Y/n), what are you doing with that?"

"Protecting your sorry ass."

I let out a light chuckle of amusement as my rage from earlier dissolves into a warm flood of happy memories.

I remember the day we made our promise, when Steve and I were just kids. We sat with our legs dangling in the pool, lightly swinging our feet through the water. The water glimmered in the sunlight, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees as we watched our reflections in the ripples of the water. I remember the sense of calm unity that we felt in that moment, our friendship forged in the waters of that pool, our words spoken with so much hope and faith in our hearts.

"We won't ever stop being friends, right?”

"We're in this together, Steve Harrington."

"Always."

With a small smile on my face, I carefully slip the letter into the envelope alongside our childhood pictures. I then gently place the envelope in my backpack, where it lies with the rest of the presents I'll be giving out later today.

Then I realize I've made a love letter in disguise.

Shit.

Oh well.

I hear a couple knocks on the front door and promptly open it, finding Jonathan standing on the other side with a warm smile. As he gestures towards the driveway, I nod and head out the door, putting my backpack on and grabbing my jacket. We then drive to the Wheeler's house to pick up our brothers from their campaign. I'm filled with excitement and anticipation as we pull up, eager to see my friends reactions to the gifts I picked out for them.

As we pull up to the house, I notice Steve's maroon car sitting in the driveway, the sight causing my smile to falter ever so slightly. The thoughts of him and Nancy getting back together run through my mind. But I remind myself that Steve and Nancy are my friends, and I'm going to support their decision, no matter how much it hurts.

Jonathan and I get out of the car and walk up to the door where a very cheerful Mrs. Wheeler greets us, with a tray of cookies in hand.

"Merry Christmas, kids," She greets with a warm smile, "Cookie?" She offers pushing out the tray towards us.

"Ooh, thanks, Mrs. Wheeler!" I exclaim happily, grabbing a cookie before walking alongside Jonathan into the house.

"Nancy is upstairs with Steve and the boys are in the basement." Mrs. Wheeler comments before making her way back to the kitchen with the rest of the cookies.

"Perfect," I say before walking down the stairs to the basement.

"Jeez, what's that smell?" Jonathan says as I bring my hand up to my nose to plug it, "Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?" Jonathan asks, making me let out a snort.

"Oh, that's just Dustin." Lucas giggles, "He farted. Dustin farted." Lucas sings while making farting noises.

"Okay." Dustin replies annoyed.

"Dustin farted." Lucas continues to sing.

"Very mature, Lucas." My brother comments and I let out another chuckle.

"Will." Jonathan says, grabbing his brother's attention, who stand up with a smile, "Come on."

"Shut up." Dustin repeats.

"Dustin farted!" Lucas sings, standing from his seat.

"Bye guys." Will says with a little wave before following his brother up the stairs.

"Bye Will." The three boys chorus at the same time.

"Dust, we gotta go too," I say with a smile as the boys say goodbye to their friend, "But first, presents!" I sing, opening my backpack.

As the boys sift through my bag and pull out their gifts with excitement, I watch them with a smile on my face. They thank me for the thoughtful presents with wide grins, giving me affectionate hugs. I wave goodbye to the boys before, Dustin and I rush up the stairs. Where Mrs. Wheeler is waiting.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Wheeler." Dustin and I say at the same time and I send her a soft smile.

"Merry Christmas, guys." She returns my smile, "Say hi to your mom for me."

"We will." I reply before heading towards the door. I usher Dustin out, telling him that I'll be right there.

Before I can make my way up the stairs to Nancy's room, her and Steve come rushing down the stair. In a flurry of holiday cheer and joy, the two of them make their way towards me, their faces filled with excitement with presents in hand.

"We thought we heard your voice." Nancy says with a sweet smile, handing me a present, "Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Nancy." I say sincerely before she nods, walking towards her mom whose still in the kitchen.

I place the tiny gift box into my backpack grabbing the envelope for Steve before facing the nervous looking boy in front of me.

"I—"

"Here." I say, shoving the letter into his hand.

"Oh, thanks." Steve replies, starting to open the letter.

"Wait!" I say frantically grabbing his hands, preventing him from opening it right now.

"Later?" Steve asks, reading my mind.

"Yeah." I let out a relieved sigh as Steve puts the letter into his front pocket.

I stare into Steve's eyes for a moment, my heart fluttering with every beat. Then he reaches into his back pocket and suddenly reveals a small jewelry box, the sight causing my breath to catch in my throat.

"Uh, I got you something." Steve says, fidgeting with the box in his hand, before reaching out to grab my hand, placing the box into my palm gently, "You can open it now, if you want."

I slowly and carefully open the box, my anticipation growing with every inch it opens. When the lid finally lifts, however, I can't help but gasp as I catch glimpse of the necklace from yesterday, the one with the ring. I stare at the necklace in my hand, eyebrows furrowed as I try to make sense of this gift.

My thoughts run wild as I look up at the boy whose staring at me with excitement and slight worry.

"Read it." Steve says softly, "The ring."

I grab the ring noticing the engraved message on the inside.

Always

My eyes start to tear up when I glance up at Steve.

"Whoa, you don't like it?" Steve questions with a concerned look.

"No, no, I love it, Steve." I laugh lightly at his worry.

"Oh, good." He replies rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can I?" Steve asks, reaching his hands out towards the box.

With blush spreading across my cheeks, I nod as Steve steps closer, his warm hands taking the necklace. He gently moves my hair to the side and quickly fastens the necklace around my neck with a soft click. As he shifts my hair back into place, I turn back around, our faces inches apart.

"Thank you, Steve." I say softly, glancing at his lips, "I really love it."

"Yeah, I mean, I saw you looking at it and I—"

I cut him off with a quick hug, a warm feeling pooling in my chest as I feel his arms wrap around me. We stand there by the front door of the Wheeler's house, our bodies pressed together, the moment charged with emotion. I lean in and give his cheek a quick peck before finally parting ways. I turn towards the door, my hand resting on the knob.

"Bye, Steve." I say, sending him a small wave before opening the door.

"Bye." Steve replies dazed, but still gives me a two-finger wave.

I smile because something changed, and I'm not sure that's a bad thing anymore.

<3

next chapter . masterlist . steve harrington masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[animatorweirdo]

How to kidnap yourself a dark lord husband? Part 2

Part 1

(Second part for the crack fic. I hope you enjoy this one)

Warnings: Reader being a headache to her family, Sauron just dealing with her antics, Melkor getting robbed of his lieutenant and Manwe not getting paid enough to deal with this.

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

Nerdanel: *Sobbing* I can't believe our daughter would disappear again. What has Melkor's servant done to her mind to make her act like this?

Feanor: *Visibly angry* This is why the valars can't be trusted. They allowed something like this to occur to my only daughter. 

You: *Kicks the door open* Naneth! Atar! I'm home, and I have news for you! 

Nerdanel: *Startled* (Name)! Where have you been? And who is that beneath your arm?

You: *Carrying Sauron beneath your arm like a potato sack* My new husband! 

Your whole family: YOUR WHAT?!!!

Sauron: *Waving at them awkwardly* Uhm... hey. 

***

Feanor: (Name)! You can't just decide to marry someone you have only known for like a month! And he's one of the Ainur!

You: Don't worry. Mairon's a rogue, so he doesn't belong with the valar. 

Feanor: That's not what I meant! Why would you want to marry him anyway?!

You: One, he's less loud than all of you. Two, he's hot, and three, he gave me a dog— something you have refused to give me for centuries! 

Feanor: Seriously? 

You: *Holding Carna* Dead seriously!

Carna: Woof!

Feanor: (Name)!

Your brothers: *Glaring at Sauron* Hurt her, and you're dead. 

Sauron: *Deadpan* I'm literally the one that got kidnapped. 

***

Melkor: Well, well, well... now this is something I didn't expect to happen. 

Sauron: Hello, master. 

Melkor: So, what's your plan with Feanor's daughter? Did you seduce her? Did you brainwash her? Is your plan to have power over Feanor's house by marriage? 

Sauron: No. She just decided we should be married and forced me to come here. By the way, I've been meaning to talk to you about something. 

Melkor: Huh?

Sauron: *Slides in a resignation letter* 

Melkor: You want to quit? Why! Is it because you suddenly got a wife now?

Sauron: Master... it's literally been like 300 years since we even spoke. Everyone has literally gone in their own ways. 

Melkor: What? 

Sauron: Yeah. There's no one at Angband. We assumed you would never come back, so we didn't see a point to continue.

Melkor: Seriously? 

Sauron: No hard feelings. I might come back if you come up with something, but for now, I have different things to deal with. *Leaves*

You: *Grinning at Melkor* Haha! Fuck you, your lieutenant is mine now!

Melkor: *Silence*

Melkor: Oh dear– I got robbed of my lieutenant before I could rob her father’s silmarils. 

***

Your family: *Arguing with you in front of the valars*

You: *Arguing back* 

Manwe: *Having an headache*

Manwe: Alright! Settle down. I have a proposition that might help both of you in this matter! 

You & your family: *Look at him silently*

Manwe: (Name) Since your family wants you to stay, but you do not want to break your relationship with Sauron. How about this? During winter years, you shall spend your time with Sauron in Middle Earth, and during spring years, you will spend your time with your family in Valinor. 

You: *Thinks about it* Yeah, sounds good to me. 

Your family: Wait, it's the start of autumn. 

You: Woohoo! Which means half a year without you!

You: *Grap Sauron and began leaving* Bye! I see you in spring! 

Your family: *Sobs* (Name)!

[copperbadge]

Am I working on Royals/Ramblers? No. Am I writing one-off short fics based on AO3 comments? Might be!

@annechen-melo pointed out that in Fete, Eddie asks Gregory what passes for diner food in Shivadh culture, and Gregory replies Eddie might know better than he would, meanwhile a book later we find out about Shivadh Fried Breakfast, which is clearly exactly the kind of food Eddie would want to know about. I was like “Haha yeah he maybe just didn’t think about it” and then I realized Eddie’s reaction and...wrote a short story in comments. :D 

---

Gregory wasn't aware Eddie had even gone out for breakfast until he heard his name called, looked up from his desk, and was pelted in the head with something cold and greasy. It bounced off and fell to his desk, where it turned out to be a fried chicken wing.

Eddie stood in the doorway. He looked incensed.

"I don't know what I did," Gregory said carefully, "but whatever made you just throw a chicken wing at my head, I'm sorry I did it."

"Fried breakfast," Eddie announced. Gregory gave him a mystified look. "I have lived here for FIVE MONTHS, Greg, I have fried so much food in your kitchen, five months' worth of fried food, and I had to discover Shivadh fried breakfast for myself. I'm DATING THE SHIVADH KING AND -- "

"Okay, okay, message received," Gregory said, holding up his hands, one of which still held the chicken wing.

"Message NOT received! I asked you about diner food! You said you didn't know!"

"Well, I mean," Gregory began, then ducked pre-emptively as Eddie took another chicken wing out of the bag in his hands. Instead of throwing it, he sat down at Gregory's desk and began eating it. "It's not diner food per se. It's. You know. It's beach food."

"How have you gone five months without ever once taking me out for fried breakfast?" Eddie asked. "How do you live in a country where you can just say to someone 'fried breakfast' and they serve you a full meal, and not eat it at least once a week?"

"Well, it's not great for the cardiac health," Gregory said carefully, "and as you say you've fried a lot of food for me, so...I wasn't really missing it."

"I literally built my career on the kind of place that will serve me hash browns and fried mushrooms and fried dumplings on top of the mushrooms all on one fast-disintegrating paper plate!" Eddie seethed.

"I could go for some fried mushrooms," Gregory said thoughtfully. Eddie seethed harder. "Okay, okay. I am sorry. It didn't occur to me. I don't eat it a lot! And your food was so good I didn't miss it."

Eddie subsided a little at that, but he waved the surviving portion of his chicken wing as he spoke.

"I will accept your apology, conditionally," he said. "Tomorrow is Saturday and I want you to take me to the best Fried Breakfast place you know of."

"Well, it won't be wherever you went today," Gregory said. Eddie frowned at him. "Traditional fried breakfast shacks don't serve chicken wings. They think it's bougie."

"....you let me get BOUGIE fried breakfast?" Eddie yelled.

"Did you get a sufganiyah with it?" Gregory asked.

"No! Was I supposed to?"

"Well, you have to order it King's Touch, if you do that they give you the donut, or they're supposed to anyway. It's because dad likes a jelly donut."

Eddie stared at him. "So you're telling me that not only did I get bougie fried breakfast, I could have had a jelly donut on top of it?"

"I need you to remember that you love me and I'm taking you out for fried breakfast tomorrow," Gregory said.

"Oh, now you're not just taking me for fried breakfast, we're going on a tour," Eddie said. "You're taking me to at least three different fried breakfasts."

"Three," Gregory repeated faintly.

"I no longer trust you to actually know where the best fried breakfast is. I'm texting your dad and Jerry and Alanna to ask them," Eddie said, texting literally as he spoke. "I will also be asking Simon, who will probably swear at me in French. We are going to do a tourism video entirely based around fried breakfast, because the world needs to know and you, king of this entire country, are falling down on the job."

"Well, that's why I have you," Gregory reasoned. "I'll, you know, pass the tax reforms, you tell the world about how we...miraculously don't die of heart disease in our thirties after being raised on fried breakfast."

Eddie's phone beeped. He looked down at it.

"Your dad says he won't tell me unless I sign an NDA," he said.

"Man's got to protect his access to sufganiyot," Gregory remarked. "Please don't throw chicken wings at him."

"I save all my ballistic chicken wings for you," Eddie informed him, sighing and getting up. He leaned across the desk to kiss Gregory where the wing had hit him in the forehead. "You are a hopeless case and I love you."

"You are the weirdest person I know and I love you too," Gregory said. "Go, enjoy your bougie chicken wings."

"Tomorrow morning! Bright and early, fried breakfast!" Eddie announced as he left. Gregory sighed and made a note to weasel out of his father the name of his favorite fry shack. If Dad wanted him married off, he had a vested interest in keeping Eddie happy.

[loversj0y]

Cornelia street for your 200 event? Congratulations by the way!!

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWS: lots of drinking, anxiety as well

notes: this one was tough to write solely bc... toe breakup. sigh. makes it hurt to use this song tbh. also i just couldnt focus writing this one so if it seems a bit off, thats probably why

wordcount: 1.6k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @ghostsacrosslndnfields / @melunnek

The first time you officially met Wilbur was at a random party. It was a summer party one of your classmates had set up, and she told you it would be a small ordeal. The opposite occurred, which truthfully, you should’ve expected given that it was a party to celebrate the classmates moving into their final year of Uni. You didn’t hate the party atmosphere, it was a nice party even if it was more crowded and louder than you’d expected. You had a few drinks and a few good conversations before stumbling into Wilbur. 

You did literally stumble into him, tripping over someone’s shoe and landing against him. His drink knocked into you as well, spilling all over the front of your shirt.

“Oh, holy shit, are you alright?” He asked quickly, holding onto your arms.

“I’m alright, yeah, sorry. Are you?”

He smiled, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Let me help clean you up.” He pulled you to the bathroom, closing the door and muting most of the party droning out with it. 

“We had english together, last semester, didn’t we?” He grabbed a towel, drying your shirt off. 

“Uh,” you flushed, “I’ll be honest, I barely payed attention to that class. I was playing Minecraft on my laptop in the back most days.” 

“Oh?” He laughed, “Good to know I wasn’t alone then. I’m Wilbur.” “Y/N. If you can’t tell, I’m not great at first impressions.”

He smiled, “Well, if you want, we could always have a redo.”

“A redo?” You chuckled, “How so?”

“Hm,” he thought, “How about we act like we were too drunk to remember meeting tonight? And then, I know a good, quiet bar downtown where we can show up separately and pretend we don’t know each other until one of us gets the courage to go up to the other?” He grinned up at you.

You laughed loudly, and he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, “Okay, yeah. That sounds great.”

You and Wilbur did go to that bar. In fact, it became a common thing for the two of you to go that little dive bar every weekend. It was a bit further from campus, a good thirty minute walk, but it made up for it in the almost secretive energy the bar had, making it easier to hide your growing anxieties and embarrassment about just how close to Wilbur you’d gotten. What started as the fleeting thought about how attractive he was had manifested into a strong crush, one that toustled you like a wave everytime you saw him. It got harder to keep your composure around him. And the best way to combat the shaking hands and stuttering words?

Shots, obviously. As the two of you joked, you both got progressively drunker. To the point where neither of you were able to safely get home. So a cab it was.

When you got in the cab, drunkenly stumbling in, the cabbie asked where he was taking you both.

It occurred to both of you that neither of you wanted to be alone right now, it was only a matter of boldness now.

You looked at Wilbur, “I rent a place on Cornelia Street.”

Wilbur nodded, leaning into your side a bit, “Okay.”

You told the cab driver your address, and he drove quickly, probably not wanting to risk the two drunk college kids puking in his cab. The drunkenness started lightening up on the drive, Wilbur only left tipsy, while you were on the comedown of your drunkenness.

You and Wilbur split the cost once you’d gotten there, and you held onto his arm as you pulled him upstairs. It felt like a stepping stone, a new era of your relationship, to have him come over to your apartment, even if you were still drunk. 

Stumbling in, he looked around, “Your place is really nice.”

“Thanks,” you smiled softly, walking over to the couch with him. You both sat down, probably far closer than you would’ve been if either of you had any sense of personal space or decency left in you.

“You sure you’re good with me staying here tonight?” You snorted softly, “Of course, Wilbur. I’d rather you stay here than try to walk home alone.”

“Aww, someone cares about me,” You flushed a bit, leaning your head against him, “Maybe I do. What about it, hm?”

He wrapped his lanky arms around you, squeezing you, “You sap,” he placed his chin on top of your head, “God, everything you do makes me just want to kiss you more,” he admitted.

“Wait- what?” You asked, suddenly feeling incredibly sober. 

“Yeah,” he hummed, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

You pulled out of his grasp, sighing, “You’re drunk.”

He chuckled, “You’re the drunk one here, your tolerance is far worse than mine.” You hated admitting that was true.

“Then, were you serious?”

He looked down at you, quiet while he looked over your face and coming to terms with the fact that you were not drunk enough to forget what he’d said, “Yes.”

You reached forward, taking his hands, “Can I… kiss you?”

He nodded quickly, pulling one hand free to rest on your cheek. You pulled him in the rest of the way, kissing him slowly. He tasted sweet, like strawberry liquor and smoke, and it felt like a consequence you’d gladly pay for.

Months went by. Wilbur was always with you, even if you and him hadn’t set an official title to your relationship. You went from autumn air, dancing in the moonlight on your room, wearing his jacket to classes, playing games, the rains of spring, opening windows for the summer air, all to end up here. Graduation had passed a few weeks ago. Wilbur was staying in town, he’d already found a job. You were between two. There was one in town and one pretty far away.

The only thing keeping you from choosing the one where you’d get to stay here, where you’ve lived and loved, was that you didn’t know where you stood with Wilbur. With everything that you two have been through, you still didn’t have an official label. And you kept meaning to talk about it, but you kept putting it off out of worries and concerns. You thought he was leading you on. You knew why you hadn’t talked about it, but why hadn’t he.

It felt selfish to think that, communication was a two-way street after all, but you just could’nt help your own anxieties sometimes. 

So instead of jumping into his arms, you jumped to conclusions. That he was leading you on, that he wasn’t serious about this. So, you planned on leaving. 

You packed a bunch of your things, getting in your car and starting to drive off, without a goodbye. You hadn’t even made a decision on the jobs either, but you were just going to head home for now.

You were about ten minutes out when Wilbur called. You almost didn’t answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, love, where are you? I just showed up to your place and you’re gone.”

“I’m leaving, Wilbur.”

He laughed, at first, “Yeah, yeah.” When you didn’t joke with him, he’d gotten far more serious, “What do you mean?”

“I’m just leaving.” “Without saying goodbye?” You never would’ve left if you had. You aimed for bitterness in your words, some part of you almost wanting to start a fight. “Like you’d care much.”

“Darling, why wouldn’t I care?”

“Why did you never say we were dating?”

He was silent, “Wait, is that what this is about? I- I wanted to talk to you about it, but I just panicked, darling. I-”

He paused, seriously considering what he was going to say next, “Darling, I love you. And if you come back now, I promise you, you will never wonder again, because it is within my full intentions to make sure the entire world knows exactly how you are mine.”

“I-I love you too,” you responded quickly. You’d never turned around faster.

That night, you and him sat on the roof, and finally solidified everything you were. You finally selected your job in town, and you couldn’t help but see Wilbur in the city you looked at from that rooftop.

“Look at that,” Wilbur hummed, staring up at your apartment building.

You held his hand tightly, looking up, “Oh, yeah. It’s almost weird to look at.” You smiled. 

He stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You had moved out a year ago now. You and Wilbur found a nice place to live together, and you had been living together since. It was a worthy move, but it still felt weird to look up at your old apartment. 

He nodded, “God, do you remember the first time I cooked for you?”

You laughed, “Yeah, it was our first official date. I had to open all the windows to get the smell of burning out.”

“It was a cleansing fire, I think.” “You would think that,” you laughed louder, leaning into him, “It was good though. A new beginning of sorts.”

“Especially for several of your pans,” he snickered, kissing your cheek softly. 

You chuckled, nodding, “Some of them definitely needed it.” You smiled, sighing softly.

You couldn’t say it outloud, you didn’t want to make Wilbur worried. You just knew that if any residual fears you had about Wilbur leaving you proved true, you’d never be able to walk here again, the entire apartment a reflection of your relationship.

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Now that you've finished both, what do you think are the difference between WangXian or HuaLian? Which mc and ml do you love more between both series? Which couple do you love more?

P.s Do you plan to read SVSSS? I think the best for fanfics inspiration from 3 MXTX works are SVSSS.....

This answer got way longer than I meant for it to 😅

I am all about Hualian 10000%. It's just a matter of preference, and I'll explain why I like one better than the other, but I'm not crapping on Wangxian shippers at all. Something for everyone haha!

Here's the thing. I like a lot about Wangxian. They've got a very Kirk/Spock thing a lot of the time that is eternally entertaining. But I just don't like the way they have sex. I dislike the way they have sex so much that it kind of retroactively made me less interested in the pairing as a whole. More specifically, I don't like how Lan Wangji does sex. People had warned me about it and I was like, "Eh, but I'm fine with CNC, all I need is that first C, so it's fiiiine." But. Nope. Thankfully this isn't a personal trigger for me, just a very firm preference, but I just...to quote myself in a previous post, "while the book did a good job convincing me that Wei Wuxian is into everything Lan Wangji does to him, it didn't do a good job convincing me that Lan Wangji knows that for sure, or is in control of himself, or would stop if Wei Wuxian didn't like something." That just isn't to my taste.

On the other hand, Hualian are also implied to be having rough and kinky sex, but there's much more of a feeling that they're communicating about it. I'm not expecting them to like, have a formal safeword or anything, but even just:

"Sorry, I went overboard last night," Hua Cheng apologized. It took a moment for Xie Lian to realize what he meant, and he quickly waved his hands. "Wh-what are you saying? That's not it at all--everything's fine!" Hua Cheng arched an eyebrow. "Is that so? If everything is fine even after that, does that mean I didn't go overboard last night? Does that mean I can...?"

Or

"Is gege not coming up to join me?" But if he went up there, when would Xie Lian have a a chance to come back down? At that point, they could forget about doing anything else for a while. "Nah." Xie Lian declined politely. "My San Lang has overworked himself." "Nah," Hua Cheng laughed. "How could San Lang ever be afraid of hard work when it comes to working gege hard?"

Like. They're goofy about it and Hua Cheng loves to tease Xie Lian but they are actually talking about sex when they're not having sex. There's a degree to which they're communicating outside of the heat of the moment. And even in the amnesia extra (which makes me feel so bad for Hua Cheng omg he's being surprisingly chill but I need to write some meta about how miserable he must be during that) Xie Lian's fuzzy memories of what he at first assumes was a rape are full of the sense of being gentled and cherished and of their fingers and red strings tangling even as he's held down and roughed up.

Also the chapter opening with,

Laughing, Xie Lian pushed Hua Cheng off him -- his crushing weight was making it hard to breathe. The heat and passion had yet to subside when something suddenly occurred to him. "Oh yeah, San Lang," he began offhandedly.

That's so stinking cute I can't. They are so comfortable. Nothing in their relationship overall or in the hints of their sex life we see implies in the slightest that Hua Cheng isn't in control of himself in the most important ways (I do tend to think of him being a shaking crying coming-too-soon mess the first few times, but that's a very different kind of out of control lol). He worships Xie Lian, literally. Lan Wangji has this underlying layer of horny anger born in a repressed childhood; Hua Cheng's horny is all built on reverence. THAT IS MY JAM.

As for SVSSS, I think I will probably read it if only to try to figure out what on earth its fandom is talking about. It's...like an isekai I think? Which is not usually my thing, but at this point I feel like I gotta round out the trio haha!

[cuddlebugsirius]

Jess’ Top 22 of 2022

I decided to do a fic rec list of my 22 top fics that I read in 2022, from lots of different ships and fandoms. We’re here to celebrate the effort that fellow writers put into creating magic for us all, fanfiction is such a massive part of my life and I think it deserves to have a spotlight shone on it’s greatness. 

[I limited myself to 1 fic/series per author, which was more of a challenge than I thought it would be 😂]

So in no particular order and without further ado...

Bring Him to His Knees - 245k+, Dramione, E Rated

Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting.

Solntse - 60k+, Wolfstar, E Rated

Sirius, a young Russian billionaire hires Remus, who is working part time as a call boy to make ends meet. Things happen, feelings occur.

Did You Miss Me - 640k+, Wolfstar & Jily, E Rated

Though the new boy at Hogwarts University, James Potter, appears to be an adorable himbo with deep pockets, Remus Lupin and his friends instead find a horrifically dark past on Google. Did he really attack that boy and leave him for dead? Why won't he talk about his mysterious childhood best friend, "Pups"? Would it kill him to stop messing with his hair?

At least Remus got his phone back after losing it, but now he can't stop texting the mysterious number of the man who had sent it back. Padfoot is funny and charming, and Remus is NOT going to fall in love with him.

The PB to my J [AKA the one that converted Jess into a Wolfstar writer] - 270k+, Wolfstar, E Rated 

A Modern AU Marauders texting with prose fic set at University.

Mainly Wolfstar - Will they? Won’t they? (They obviously will...) And a little bit of Jily too.

A Second Look - 120k+, Dramione, M Rated

Her best friend's life was a mess and she would have done anything to make things better for him and his sons. So, when she found her former enemy in a similar situation her heart went out to him as well... and the beautiful blond baby in his arms didn't hurt his case. It was certainly enough for her to give him a second look.

oh, I’m gonna let the future in - 40k+, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Potter, T Rated

Al doesn’t know what he’s doing. Not just with the new apartment, but with his life in general, and it doesn't help that his family quietly looks down on him. It feels as if they’re always waiting for him to do something spectacular, but without actually expecting it of him. They’ve given up on expecting anything of him.

Al only speaks English, and he sings in the shower, badly. He likes tea, and he cleans when he’s stressed. He sees a therapist. He has a total of two friends, and one of them is his cousin. He isn’t smart; he’s simple.

He wishes that could be enough.

Brooklyn Heights Books - 180k+, Stucky, E Rated

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

‘tis the damn season - 70k+, Wolfstar, T Rated

“Where are you going?”

Remus turns. Sirius looks delightful; wine-flush and December drizzle painting his pale, pretty face the deepest carmine red. His spindly hands are twiddling at his front, as if he doesn’t know quite what to do with them. He sniffs, and exhales corporeal ice that sends a shiver running down Remus’ spine. He’s not sure if it’s from the cold or the alcohol or… something else.

Clean - 115k+, Dramione, M Rated

Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. "You'll find I'm very surprising." 

Second Generation - 45k+, Wolfstar, E Rated

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black spent their late teens in a happy haze of sex, troublemaking, and playing in their band, but break up in college. But when their respective children get in trouble together more than 20 years later, Remus and Sirius find themselves at odds with their very different parenting styles and dealing with a spark that was never quite extinguished.

Dreamers - 45k+, Wolfstar, M Rated

In which Sirius did twelve years and meets Remus on a creative writing workshop.

The Searching Ceremonies - 580k+, Sterek, M Rated

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

Quid Pro Quo - 105k+, Darklina, E Rated

The Slow Burn Breeding Kink Political AU

Cannibals - 20k+, Darklina, E Rated

It was very brief, the affair Alina Starkov had with her father.

Or: The Father-Daughter Incest AU

no shelter but mine - 65k+, Darklina, E Rated

“If you’re so worried about your daughter then why are you wasting your time yelling at me instead of caring for her?”

He stills. His fists clench, just once, and she can see the muscles in his jaw working, like it is taking him every ounce of will not to unhinge it, lean across the counter, and rip out her throat with his teeth.

Then he turns, without a word, and storms out the door, the tails of his black coat flying behind him like a cloak. Aleksander is in need of a nanny for his six-month-old daughter. As it so happens, Alina is the only person she likes.

Action - 20k+, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, E Rated

Jaime’s a famous action hero. Brienne is the stunt coordinator on his latest movie. She’s hated him since the moment they met, and the feeling is mutual. But there are ways to work out their aggression.

Lost & Found - 95k+, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, E Rated

When she realizes the husband she knew had departed, and she now had cold & hard mobster in his place, Sansa fakes her death and starts a new life in Wales.

And then Jon finds her.

It gets so hard to breathe (when you’re looking at me) - 57k+, Wolfstar, E Rated

When Sirius turns up at Remus' flat after the events at the Triwizard Tournament, he doesn't expect to find himself sharing a bed with Remus. Or getting so intimately involved in his life. Or to find out that they're mates and Remus wants nothing more than to push him up against the wall and make him forget his own name.

Or to feel so very complete.

But Sirius isn't complaining. Not one bit.

The Player’s Secret - 50k+, Wolfstar, M Rated

“So what’s he like? Full of it? Arrogant?”

“Yes,” he says, because he thinks that is a fair assessment. Sirius Black is full of it. He is arrogant. He’s also entitled and needy and smug. He’s talented, reckless, moody, selfish, childish, charming and sweet, and a million different other things Remus is trying to wrap his head around.

Sirius Black is hard work.

Remus Lupin is a successful documentary filmmaker who is assigned to make a fly-on-the-wall documentary featuring Sirius Black - one of the world's most brilliant footballers - as he competes in the European Championship.

All does not go smoothly.

The Same Way I Like My Coffee - 35k+, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, M Rated

Sansa Stark always liked her coffee hot and sweet. She finally found a guy that makes the sentence "I like my men the same way I like my coffee" real to her.

Jon snow has no right to be that hot.

Or: Sansa opens the coffee shop of her dreams, makes great friends and meets an unbelievably hot Jon Snow.

don’t pout, darling - 70k+, Dramione, E Rated

"when's the last time you let someone take care of you?"

"no one's ever wanted to," her whisper is delicate, sharp like porcelain glass, the edges raw and tender. she is sugar-soft, a little thing tucked into his chest, ears pressed against the heart that beats for her.

"i'll take care of you, i'm always going to take care of you," he cooed. “you're my sweet girl, my baby.”

or: a modern au ddlg fic

when we kiss: mmmm, fire - 39k+, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, E Rated

Sansa might be seeing someone casually, but thanks to Arya, Robb, and Theon, it’s Jon who’s got the inside track on how to get Sansa to take him seriously.

aka: the one where jon finds out that sansa has a daddy kink, and he uses it to seduce her away from the dating scene and into his arms, heeeey-oh!

[deonideatta]

THAT CHAPTER SKFJSK I can't organise my thoughts into any proper analysis lol so here's everything in one go

Only 1 stella???? Stingy 😒😒 they should have at least given Anya 2 and the rest 1 haha

As the other students left and it was just damian and anya left there were like 4 different fanfics which I was trying to use to predict what would happen next lol

I'd like to see more of becky's parents!!! her dad is so sweet to her 🤩

Friendship!!!!! They're friends!!!!! I love it skfjsj they're so sweet

I'm happy that anya broke down and cried when she saw yor! No 4/5 year old has nerves of tungsten lol, and seeing that she feels safe enough with yor not to bottle up her feelings is really lovely

Twilight you tsundere skdkskd it didn't actually occur to me that he might already have been there! Count on him to try and wave it off tho lol, if he doesn't give anya the biggest ever hug when he gets home I'm suing

Also I love how the senior agent that was with him always talks about the forgers like they're twilight's actual family lol he knows what's up 👀

Melinda dlskfksk what was that????? She did a 180 so fast that for a moment I seriously wondered if maybe she has a split personality

I think there's definitely some serious animosity between her and donovan. She seems torn between motherly love for damian and absolutely despising him, possibly because he's donovan's son, or because he's so fixated on pleasing his father (not his fault, he's literally 6 lol).

Horrible stuff to think about a child though. Made even more bizarre by how much she seems to love him at the same time

I wonder how she feels about demetrius, assuming he's also her son

But yea good chapter!!! We were well fed

In the next chapter I want more from twilight, we can't let him for the mission his way out of this one lol

And perhaps now that anya's gotten another stella we'll get another scene that mirrors the one where twilight felt genuinely proud of her after her first stella

Also I wonder if there will be any tension between twiyor over this. Not sure there will be, but it'd be interesting if there is

[creative-kny-fics]

Hi there! Since your blog didn't say whether you're a minor or not, I hope this isn't inappropriate since I'm a minor!

Anyways, may I request something? That is, if requests are open ofc!

I have been absolutely obsessed with lee!Obanai lately. Hell, I even went as far as roleplaying with AI bots because my obsession is starting to get out of hand 😭

Aaanyways, I had this cute little idea of Lee!Obanai and Ler!Kaburamaru!

So so, Kaburamaru loves tickling his owner to cheer him up, right? Well, when Kaburamaru tries once again to cheer Obanai up, Obanai has decided he's had enough. Without thinking he instinctively tickled the snake back. But realizing that Kaburamaru isn't even a tad ticklish, Obanai realizes the mistake he's made, too. And the fate he has bestowed upon himself. Kaburamaru knows what he was trying to do. And his white snake friend won't hold back now.

If requests aren't open, then I deeply apologize!

Ohhh don't worry! Your idea is great, it's that literally when someone tickles you your first reaction is revenge-. So it would make sense for Obanai to do the same! And of course, don't worry (I'm also obsessed with him ajhslagsksyssk)

Ler: Kaburamaru

Lee: Iguro Obanai

'Where did that snake go?', Iguro searched all over his estate, he couldn't find Kaburamaru. Sometimes they played hide and seek, but Iguro had already given up.

'Ok Kaburamaru, you win. I'm already tired and bored', there was no response, he waited for about 2 minutes but his snake did not appear. Sigh.

'Kaburamaru, I already told you that you won. Get out once and for all', again there was no answer, Iguro then sat on the floor, waiting for his friend to come back soon

'Kaburamaru...Aren't you going to show up? Hey? Kaburamaru, is that you?', a noise caught his attention, it was probably him trying to scare him. 'Come here Kaburamaru', nothing, there was no response.

'Kaburama- MHM!!', a tingling in the back of his neck alerted him, Kaburamaru was there. 'Kaburamaru, I know what you're planning to do and I don't like it', meh, he won't understand you Iguro, he's just a snake and he just slides And well,

Kaburamaru continued to wave his tail behind his owner's neck.

'Kaburamaru! No! Mmmm!', perhaps Obanai's neck was not so sensitive, but enough to make him smile at least a little.

'Enough!', he took Kaburamaru and what did he do? What anyone would do after being tickled, return the favor.

Only after a few seconds did Iguro realize what an idiot he looked trying to tickle his snake.

'What the hell am I doing?! Agh! How pathetic! You planned this, didn't you?!', Iguro, don't yell at Kaburamaru, it doesn't suit you

Iguro placed his snake close to him, trying to stay calm in the face of that situation, which for Iguro, was the most idiotic thing that ever occurred to him.

'How come I thought that?! I mean, you're not even ticklish! No, but it's worse than a snake tickling me! Has no sense! It doesn't have- MMMMM!!! No! Kaburamaru! Sorry! Please no!'

I told you what was wrong with you, while you were throwing your tantrum, Kaburamaru slipped into your uniform and as I type he is getting closer to his target

'Kaburamaru! I'm sorry! You-! MHMHMHMH!!', Iguro, just do it, it's not like it's the first time Kaburamaru has heard you laugh. 'I-I refuse!', well, Kaburamaru has no choice.

'GAAAH! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!! KABURAMARU!! PLEASE!!', he brought both hands to his stomach as he kicked into the air, and yep, Iguro throws a tantrum when tickled.

'STAHAHAHAP!! SOHOHORRY!! SORRY!!!', there are many things you will have to apologize to Kaburamaru for, first you finished the game, then you tried to tickle him and yelled at him. If Kaburamaru spoke, I'm sure you'd be doomed

'KABUHUHURAMAHAHAHARU!! PLEHEHEASE!! YOHOHOU KNOHOHOW HOW BAHAHAD IS IT!! NOHOHOHO!! MEHEHERCY!! ALHDLAHSKSJSLSJAKSJ!!', oh, poor thing, he can't talk anymore, I think Iguro is too ticklish for his own good

For almost 3 minutes, Iguro was unable to utter a coherent word. Only pure laughter came out of his mouth and some prayers to his pet, imploring him to stop

'*gasp* STA-STAHAHA-STAHAP!! *hip* KAHAHABU!! *snort* NOT MOHOHORE!! *squeak* I GIHIHIVE!!', well I guess he's had enough, sorry Kaburamaru, but if you want to continue tickling your owner, you'll have to stop and give him a rest

Anyway, Kaburamaru stopped and Iguro fell to the floor almost fainted, I guess the bandages didn't help him breathe at all.

'Dahahamn snahahake... WAHAHAHIT!! NO AGHAHAIN!! SOHOHORRYHYHY!!', you better stop threatening and badmouthing Kaburamaru, he's still in your uniform

[organised-disaster]

Sorry for the delay, but it's finished!!

I'm just going to tag @baxieblur-turnip and @randosfandos because they're the only interaction I get lol

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER III

"You'll be fine, Rumes. Your name's only in once this year," says Yumi. She wraps a hairband around my braid, keeping it in place.

I rub my nose.

"Yeah, but you're in a bunch of times," I say. Yumi sighs.

"That's okay. It's my last year, remember? And so many other people have the same odds as me. We'll both be safe."

Yumi awkwardly stumbles out from behind me. I remain seated on the floor, staring at a scuff mark on Yumi's floorboards. Yumi crouches down slightly. She squeezes my shoulders.

"It's going to be okay, Rumi." I nod. Yumi gently tugs me to my feet. "Come on, then, Junco. We'll be in trouble if we're late."

Yumi had all sorts of cute little nicknames for me. Sometimes, I wished she'd just say my name, although it usually wasn't positive if she did. It was mainly "Rumes." I don't let anyone call me any of Yumi's nicknames anymore.

She called me "Junco" a lot, too. It was my favourite bird. Yumi said she started calling me that because her earliest memory of me is me pointing at one during winter. Yumi loved to tell me that story, too.

I was sick. Nothing that would hurt me now, but I wasn't a strong child, and such a mild illness hit me hard. I never really knew what I had. It never occurred to me to ask.

Yumi said that she came to check on me, alongside my mother. I was apparently standing up in my cot and watching the window.

I pointed at it and said, "Bird." I was talking about a fat little dark-eyed junco I had spotted. Yumi used to say how she was convinced it had cured me. She said she figured out that it was medicine and care, but she was young.

She found out what it was called and started using it as if it was my name instead of the bird's. She called me that less as I got older, but she almost never called me by my real name when I was younger.

I hug my knees closer to my chest.

"Junco, you should dig a -" A wave crashes over my cubic sandcastle, obliterating it and reducing it to naught but a pile of dampened grains of sand.

I frown.

"A moat. You should dig a moat. That way, the waves can't hit it that hard," Yumi finishes. I start to rebuild the sandcastle. Yumi walks over, her footprints shifting the waterlogged sand around them.

"You can't just rebuild it and expect it to be okay, you know," Yumi states. I halt my construction, watching as the waves once again take it from me.

"Why not?" I ask, resuming.

"You can't control the ocean, Junco. It'll break your blocks down over and over again, no matter how high you build it up," she tells me. I look up at her. She smiles.

"You can do so much else in situations like these," she chuckles. "You change what you can control. Like a moat! You could dig a moat. Or build a wall."

Yumi does both of these as I watch, fascinated. She uses her body to block the waves as she digs and uses the sand to build a wall.

She gets up. The waves once again crash around my sandcastle, but it remains unharmed.

"See? It can't do anything now."

I was only eight, I think, which would have made Yumi fourteen. She made it her business to ensure I learned something from all our interactions. Even if that something was simply that she loved me.

Yumi felt it was important. I didn't realise until just last year that she did it out of a fear of early death. A completely justified fear. Yumi was never paranoid, not even when she was literally surrounded by people who wanted her dead.

"Happy birthday, Junco!" Yumi says cheerfully.

"Yumes, aren't you supposed to be at the Reaping?" I ask her as I yawn. Yumi shrugs and hugs me.

"Ah, well, I have a few hours. A few hours for your birthday!" Yumi does a stupid dance that involves flicking her hands around and jumping a little. I giggle.

"I'm pretty old now," I state once I'm done screeching with laughter after Yumi unintentionally falls and lands flat on her face.

"Ten!" says Yumi excitedly. "It's your first milestone!" Yumi's cheerfulness seems slightly strange.

"Are you okay?" I ask. Yumi sighs. She smiles, albeit slightly forced.

"I'm just a bit worried, Junco," she says.

"Oh, but it's nothing major! Just silly little anxieties," she says, backtracking desperately as she sees my frown.

"Okay..." I say slowly. I don't believe her. I hope that's evident. Yumi hugs me again.

"It's fine, okay, Junco? You're fine. It's your birthday," she says. I don't know why she's hugging me so tight or why she's shaking so much.

"I think I'm a little old to be called 'Junco' now, Yumes," I say, changing the subject.

"Oh. Okay," says Yumi vaguely. "What do you want to be called?" she asks. I ponder her question for a moment.

"I like Rumes. Call me Rumes," I say. Yumi nods and smiles again.

"Well, Rumes," says Yumi, placing some extra emphasis on my name. "The Kaishurrs caught some nice salmon. Mother's cooking it for breakfast today!"

I smile. I do like salmon. Yumi relaxes at the expression on my face.

"I'll let you get your good clothes on, Rumes," she says. Yumi turns and leaves.

Mr Kaishurr is a fisher, as he was at the time, working in his big teams on their haulers. They'd sometimes go over quota, meaning they got to choose what to do with the excess.

Well, not really. They weren't truly allowed to, but the Peacekeepers turned a blind eye to it. Some even bought fish from them. District Four has never been a poor district, but if you were doing that physical labour, if you were being tossed about on the open ocean, at the mercy of the elements...

Well, would another bowl of soup truly hurt anyone? Another, more filling topping for your bread? Just a little more food at dinner? And the Capitol wouldn't even suffer without the extra. The Peacekeepers understand that. That's why the Capitol remains unknowing of District Four ever going over quota by more than would be noted.

The Kaishurrs often chose to share their excess with us. It's what we'd cook on special occasions. My mother was the reason we knew them, being incredibly good friends with Mrs Kaishurr. With their wives occupied with talking and laughing and cooking together, my father and Mr Kaishurr really only had the option to talk to each other.

Their conversations were stilted and awkward. They coexisted because it was easier than hating each other. Mr Kaishurr always rubbed my father the wrong way. He irritated me slightly, too, always talking and knocking people about or putting his arms around people's shoulders or talking far closer than he really needed to.

Neither of my parents fished - when they still worked - and worked much higher-paying jobs than the Kaishurrs did. My mother ran a glass-blowing business, as well as just making small-scale glass panes and such.

Most of the glass in Panem is sourced from here, although One is responsible for making most of the gorgeous things out of it.

My mother used to say how she loved the shapes and colours the glass made. That was why she did it, she said, and not because it paid well. It did, though. Fine glasswork such as Mother made was expensive.

My father worked on the mayoral council. Still works. He must be disappearing there all day to still be bringing in an income. He's fairly close to the mayor in his position, and he used to be good friends with him. Maybe he still is. I don't know when he'd find the time, though. He's buried himself in work and alcohol, even more so lately.

Sometimes, the mayor would come over for dinner with us. When Yumi was still alive, when Mother was still here, when Father still smiled, when the Kaishurrs were in the early stages of their fight.

Yumi would dress nicely, as would I. Our mother would start preparing food early while our father would clean the house. Mayor Esthel was his friend, but he was the type of friend that Father had to be cautious around.

Yumi gently kicks my leg under the table. I look at her. She pulls a strange face, tugging the skin under her eyes down with her pinkie fingers while she stretches the corners of her mouth with her other fingers. She sticks her tongue out.

I laugh quietly. Our mother smacks the side of Yumi's head, stifling a laugh of her own. Yumi stops tugging her face, her mouth snapping back to her normal smile.

We're silent again as we eat our dinner. I messily eat the bread I've been soaking in my soup, getting the hot liquid all over my chin. Yumi hands me a napkin.

I look up at her again. She's balancing her spoon on her nose. It falls off and clatters on the table. She quickly slaps it back onto her face like it never fell in the first place.

I laugh much louder this time, mainly at how goofy Yumi looks with her large grin and nose obscured by silver metal. Yumi seems satisfied.

Our father clears his throat, briefly distracted from his conversation by Yumi's antics. He's glaring rather pointedly at her. Mayor Esthel chuckles and waves a hand good-naturedly.

"Please, Sesten, it's fine. Your daughters act like my little girls. It's nothing I'm not well-versed in."

Mayor Esthel has two daughters, Tyra and Mechi. Completely identical to the point where they're sure they were confused with each other as babies. Both have straw-coloured, collar length hair cut in neat bobs. Each about my height.

They're both my age. We talk occasionally. Nobody can tell them apart by face alone, but Mechi has taken to embroidering her name onto all her clothing for that exact reason.

The day they swap clothing is the end of whatever we have together, I suspect. Tyra completely believes that she is more attractive than her sister and that they shouldn't be indistinguishable from each other.

They're both good-looking, with their fair complexions, sharp noses, and keen, narrow features, but Mechi is far nicer to be around. That doesn't stop both of them from being equally popular and equally desired. Tyra loves the attention while Mechi merely tolerates it.

I wouldn't say we're friends. Friends are too dangerous.

I hear quiet, muffled crying. I wander out of my bedroom, searching for its source. It's coming from Yumi's room.

I open the door. Yumi's face is buried in her hands, and her shoulders are shaking. She's sitting on her bed in a weak slouch. I walk over to her.

"Yumi?"

Yumi snaps up to look at me. She sniffles loudly and wipes her nose.

"Are you okay?" Yumi looks like she tries to smile. Instead, she bursts into sobs again.

I sit down next to her and wrap my arms around her. Yumi continues to cry. After a long time, she takes a deep breath. I hand her a handkerchief.

She wipes her eyes, then loudly blows her nose. She folds the handkerchief up.

"I'm sorry, Junco, I... It's not your problem, really," she says damply.

She pats my head. She smiles as more tears pool in her eyes. She pulls me into a hug.

"I love you, Junco. Don't ever forget that."

"Do you miss Otto?" I ask.

"Yes," Yumi chokes out.

"I miss Otto, too," I say feebly.

"I don't think there's anyone who doesn't," Yumi responds, equally quiet.

"I think she did a good job," I try. Yumi is quiet.

"She fought pretty hard," is all she says after a while.

Otto was a sweet enough girl. She was Yumi's closest friend, right up until her death eight years ago. She went down roaring. Yumi said she didn't like seeing Otto like that, but what did she expect?

Otovia Ossa, the best student in her grade and the most lethal fighter. She killed three other tributes before... Gloss, was it? Something like that, anyway. Before what's-her-name from District One took her down and won.

"Why?"

It was a stupid question, really. It had an obvious answer. But hearing it out of Yumi's mouth made it stick with me.

"Because she wanted to go home. In the end, the winner isn't the most vicious. They're not the best at killing. They're just the one who fights the hardest to get home."

I'll never forget that. It's burned into my brain. And I know. I know exactly how she meant it. I know what she was doing when she did it.

Yumi squeezes my hand reassuringly. I look at her. She smiles warmly. I smile back.

"The female tribute is..." Yumi doesn't let go of my hand. "Rumi Erudite!"

Yumi almost crushes my hand before she releases it. I stiffly walk forward. Yumi sputters from behind me. I get halfway to the stage before she shouts.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Yumi shoves me back into where I was. Our eyes meet in passing. She's angry. Her expression softens as she looks at me, but then she turns back to the crowd. Her eyes harden and smoulder again, the brown suddenly appearing black as she glares at them.

I didn't misunderstand the meaning. Yumi was always clear with me.

There's a close-up of Yumi's disgusted expression as she turns away, then the camera switches back to the Careers finishing the District Eleven tributes off. Yumi's district partner created a net trap. District Eleven was their first set of victims.

"Man up, Erudite," scoffs District One. "This is the 'fight each other to the death like animals for a chance to go home' games. Being a pacifist gets you killed." Yumi glares at him.

"It's barbaric," she spits. "Trapping them like fish."

"The barbarity is the whole point," shoots the other District One tribute in retaliation. Yumi still looks appalled.

"I won't have a part in it," she mutters. The other District Four tribute quickly comes to her aid as the other Careers growl and mutter as they turn toward her, faces twisted into snarls.

"So you're just dead weight, then?"

"You're using our supplies, but you won't contribute?"

"We don't need to keep you, you realise..."

"She doesn't mean it like that, guys. She'll help us, obviously, and she'll kill someone if she needs to. She just means she doesn't want to for the moment," says her district partner, pointedly turning and glaring at Yumi.

"She's not good at getting things across," he lies.

"That's believable," sneers District Two. District Four huffs.

"She is worth more alive than she is dead right now," says the other District Two tribute.

There's various mutters of agreement.

"Fine. We're eating you the minute we run out of food, though, Yumi," says District One. She's met with awkward silence. "It's called a joke. It's called a bloody joke, guys, relax."

So why? Why would she tell me that and do what she did?

District Four stomps after Yumi, his trident in his hands. He could throw it.

"Fight me, you idiot! It's just us! Why are you still running?!"

Yumi doesn't respond to him, losing her footing in the mud and slipping but not entirely falling. She continues fleeing. Her district partner finally decides to try, shifting easily into a sprint. He gains on Yumi immediately.

He yanks on her jacket, throwing her to the ground by her hood. Yumi makes no visible attempt to resist. He raises his trident in front of her face, and his whole body tensed as if to throw it. He holds himself there for a while.

"Yumi..." he says quietly, his trident falling from his hands. "...please fight. This is getting depressing."

Yumi looks up at him and smiles, although slightly sad.

"No."

I couldn't put the pieces together. I can now, of course, but I was twelve, and she was eighteen, and I firmly believed she was amazing. I couldn't see her flaws.

And I couldn't see why she would let him kill her without even resisting. I realise now, though, that Yumi saw it as a way out.

As her escape. Yumi never liked the idea of the Games. She never liked being trapped under the Capitol. If she had been around when it happened, she would have wholeheartedly supported the rebellion that started this whole mess.

She kept quiet. She loved me. She protected me. And then when the moment came, the time when she could help our family...

She didn't take her opportunity.

She loved human life in general more than she loved me.

That's fair, I suppose.

Finnick Odair yanks his trident free of Yumi's body. As he is declared the winner, he throws the trident far away from him. It buries itself in a tree trunk. Finnick drops to his knees and begins to sob.

For a brief moment, there is only the babbling of the commentators on the screen. Something shatters.

What do I remember, I wonder? What do I remember of my mother's screams, of my father's mournful fury? I remember the sound of my mother screaming until her throat was raw. I remember how she sounded as if her heart had been ripped from her chest.

I remember my father's bleeding, shredded knuckles as he continued to punch the walls until they gave way. I remember his face. I remember my mother's. I remember...

I don't even remember what I felt. I loved my big sister more than anything.

There was a funeral. Yumi's friends attended. Yumi's parents attended. The girl who had practically become Yumi's younger sister attended. Finnick attended. Did I attend? Did I attend the gathering meant to mourn, if I had never once mourned? I don't know.

I left dandelions on her grave. She liked dandelions.

My father gave the eulogy. My mother couldn't. She was forgiven fairly easily, so wrought with grief that she wasn't really present in the first place. District Four talked about me. They thought I didn't hear them.

Everyone loved Yumi. Most cried when she died. They expressed their sympathy to my family. My parents were inconsolable. Some people tried to talk to me.

I'm told I showed nothing. That I was completely and utterly blank with no sign of mourning or sadness or anger or anything that would be brought about by the death of a sister.

I'm told I unsettled people. Because a child's eyes should never be so dull or emotionless, I'm told. So they started avoiding me. They still do.

I receive sideways looks. I receive double takes. I receive second glances. People walk faster when I am behind them. People do not show me their backs if they can help it.

I loved my mother, too. Although the last time we ever spoke was the hour before Yumi's death.

Mrs Kaishurr, of course, attempted to console her. My mother's other friends, my uncles, my father, they all made efforts to help her. I think the last time I ever saw her was when we passed in the hallway.

She didn't look at me. She hadn't looked better than she'd been before, but she wasn't crying. Her eyes still seemed flat and hollow. The circles under her eyes were much darker than they had been.

Her hand was briefly on my shoulder. She gently squeezed it. And then she walked into the study.

She was a lovely woman. Brown curls down to her upper back and brown eyes to match. She was patient. Perhaps too loving. She had her hobbies. She didn't even leave a note. She loved her friends. She was a loving mother and wife.

It was my father that I looked most like. Yumi's distinction from me came from our mother's eyes and curls, but our narrow faces and black hair came from our father. Yumi was a combination of both our parents. I clearly only took after our father.

My parents used to joke about how I was exclusively my father's daughter and that my mother had no part in me. My father would then say that this was a blessing, because I was already such a pretty girl and that if I looked like my mother he would have to start nailing boards to our doors so people couldn't break into our house and propose to me on the spot.

My mother would laugh and smack him with whatever was in her hand at the time, often a spatula.

I wasn't the only victim of my father's jokes. He would occasionally ask Yumi how many boys she'd turned down that day, to which she would respond with a random number. My mother would sigh and shake her head, smiling.

There wasn't any sign of a struggle. Most of her things were missing, along with some bags. The door was unlocked. It's reasonable to assume she left of her own accord. She didn't even look at me. She couldn't, apparently. If the conversations overheard through doors are any clue.

We still don't know where she went. We had no guesses, no indication. We just assumed she went to another district. I wonder how well that went for her. I used to despise her for it, for abandoning her family when they needed her. I don't blame her for leaving anymore, though.

She left because she just couldn't face it anymore. Because she couldn't look at her home and know that one of her daughters would never return to it. Because she couldn't look at her surviving daughter without seeing the other one. Because she couldn't look at her daughter, knowing why she'd never see the other one again.

I can't blame her. I'd leave, too, if I knew that I would be forced to live in a home that could never feel full again.

Some good leaving would do now, though. Now that the damage has already been done. There wouldn't be a point. And besides, who would miss me?

Who would miss Rumi Erudite, the girl good at nothing but violence? Who would miss Rumi Erudite, the girl who only knows how to hurt? Who would miss Rumi Erudite, the girl that everyone would be correct to hate?

No one. I know that if I vanished, no one would look for me. My father already refuses to acknowledge my existence, as if pretending he only ever had one daughter would prevent him from losing the second. There is occasionally food on the table when I get home, but beyond that, I am dead to him. I doubt he's even doing it to save himself anymore. He ignores me out of habit and hate.

People would hear that I had disappeared. They'd remark that it was odd, perhaps, if I didn't leave a note. That would be the end of it, and no one would speak of Rumi Erudite again.

Maybe I should. I should just leave in the middle of the night, quietly and without making a spectacle of it. Since nobody would care.

I kick the wall across from me, hoping to put a hole in it. The wall does not give, but when I bring my leg down, something makes a crinkling noise. I look up to see what it was. A small, rectangular parcel sitting under my foot. I pick it up. It fits nicely across both my hands. It says my name on it in a neat, very deliberate script, as if the person writing it had to spend a lot of time and effort forming each letter. Sera's handwriting.

I tear the paper off it. A photo frame, thicker than most that I've seen. I run my fingers over the patterns dug into the dark wooden border. Framed is Yumi.

A greyscale drawing of her, done with graphite pencils. It's incredibly detailed. Yumi is facing the artist and smiling warmly. A few of her dark curls are caught up around her ears. She looks a little windblown, her hair preferring the left side of her head to sit.

I turn it over to find that it has a stand. Pinned underneath the stand is a note in Sera's slow handwriting.

Happy birthday, Rumes. Love ya.

I run my fingers gently down the glass panel in the front, tracing the outline of Yumi's face. The surface is uneven and rippled. I pull my thumb down the frame again and am pricked by a sliver of wood. This is Sera's handiwork.

It's not really a surprise that she made this. She's quite adept with things like these, a skill developed by years of gutting fish. Her hands tremble, but she can hold them still when she concentrates. A smudge on the side of Yumi's right eye tells me that Sera probably drew this, too.

Of course. Of course she did. Because that stupid girl just won't give up on me and move on.

My knuckles whiten as I grip the portrait of Yumi. Sera. I want to strangle her. I want to shout at her. I want to call her an idiot and slap her until she regains her senses. I want to hold her close and never let her go. I want to beg on my knees at her feet for her to forgive me. I want her to leave my life entirely.

She's an idiot. She'll never learn. She'll be the one who gets lost looking for me. She'll be the one who gets hurt defending me. She'll be the one who wastes her life on me. She'll be the one who stands too close when I lash out.

She's the only one who stayed in my life. She was the only one who comforted me after Yumi died. She was the only one who came to my aid when everyone was correct to say those things to me.

I grab Sera's arm and pull her away. She resists, ignoring my statements that she's done enough. The boy, covering his bleeding nose and what will turn into a black eye, cusses and runs off.

I use my thumb to wipe the blood away from Sera's cheek. She draws the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood from her busted lip.

"Tetra shouldn't be allowed to talk to you like that," she mutters.

"And you shouldn't be allowed to get into fistfights with people who insult me," I snap back angrily.

Sera folds her arms across her chest.

"It's not fair. He w-w-went after Yumi." I let go of her face.

"He went after me, not Yumi," I tell her. Sera frowns harder.

"He said that -"

"It doesn't matter what he said. He was going after me." Sera's expression changes from a confused frown to near tears.

"Rumi, it isn't your fault."

It makes me angry, so angry, when Sera lies to me. She thinks I can't tell that she lies to me. But we've known each other for fifteen years. I recognise cues that basically don't exist. I can identify her mood based on how quickly she blinks.

I see all her little tells, her painfully obvious tells. And they infuriate me.

I am not a thinker. That is not what I do. I act before I ask, as I've been told by my many frustrated primary school teachers. And by plenty of others, to remove the needlessly complicated words.

I act on anger. I act on sadness. I act on hate. I do not act on happiness or love or anything that Sera does. That is why she does them, to make up for every horrible thing I do.

I regret acting in that moment. It would have been better if I had done nothing, nothing at all. It made me want to cut off my hands. She didn't deserve it. She hadn't earned it. She had already taken so many hits for my sake. And then I administered one more, and it was the one that made her cry.

Sera places her hand on her cheek, rubbing where I hit her. She looks rattled. I clench my fists tightly, backing away from her. Tears spring into her eyes.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." I mumble. Sera starts to tremble. Her tears drip down her cheeks. She looks utterly betrayed. I walk away faster, shaking my head. Sera's shoulders start to shake as she sobs. I turn and run entirely.

I ran all the way home and locked myself in my room. Rumi Erudite doesn't cry. She gets close, yes, but she doesn't ever cry. She's not capable of it. She's not capable of empathy.

She is capable of violence. She is capable of smashing photo frames and shattering mirrors and punching walls and hurting everyone around her.

She is capable of sitting in a ring of broken glass, her knuckles bleeding and cut by the shards stabbed into them that she couldn't be bothered to remove. She is capable of being discovered by the friend that she punched in the face.

That friend is capable of wrapping her arms around Rumi Erudite and brushing the hair out of her face. That friend is capable of telling Rumi Erudite that it is all alright as she gently pulls the mirror fragments from her awful hands. That friend is capable of bandaging Rumi Erudite's self-inflicted wounds.

That friend is capable of listening and nodding while Rumi Erudite gives the most worthless apology anyone has ever heard.

"I... I didn't mean it, Sera. Please. I didn't mean it."

"I know. It's okay. Did I push too hard?"

"..."

"Rumes?"

"Why do you always blame yourself?"

"Haha. You're exaggerating a little there, Rumi."

"I'm serious. What part of this was your fault?"

"I... Uhm... You... Tetra w-w-was being an ass! He -"

"You didn't deserve that. I'm... I'm sorry. I got angry and you were close."

"It's okay, Rumi, it really is."

Sera bounces back. She brushes things off. She ignores, she overlooks, she turns a blind eye. To everything I do wrong. She thinks I don't notice what she discards of her morals for me. She knows I'm not a good person.

I don't know why she's stayed by my side all these years. She's had six to leave, six to work out how to phrase it without hurting me. Sera is kind. She lets people down gently.

I don't deserve that, though. I deserve to be dropped from a great height, in the metaphorical sense. Perhaps in the literal, too. Maybe I would walk off myself...

I cut off that train of thought as quickly as I can, shoving it back to the dark corner of my mind where it resides. It's much worse than simply fantasising about leaving, and I'd rather not touch it now.

Sera tends to hold it out of my reach, though. Even if it hurts her, she stays by me. For fifteen years, I've been a thorn in her side. For twelve, I've hurt her. For six, I've been...

Awful. I am awful. I am a monster. And Sera is an angel, an angel, and she will always hold out her hand to me so that one day I may stand in her light. That hand...

That hand that is calloused and scarred from years of work. That hand that is wonderful to know and to love. That hand that is safe to be near.

That hand that is always gentle even when it is undeserved. That hand that is never raised against me, not even when it would be considered self-defence, not even when it is necessary, not even when it is right. That hand that is often wrong, that persists nonetheless.

That hand that is always outstretched, always waiting for me to take. No matter how many times it gets bitten and clawed and stabbed, it will never retreat. That hand whose owner always smiles, be it happily or sadly or with worry. I hate that smile.

I hate Sera. I hate her rough hands that feel so warm wiping the blood off my face. I hate her gentle tracing of the scars on my knuckles and abdomen and face and arms. I hate the way she holds my hands, acting as if they have a purpose that isn't pain. I hate the way she cups my cheek in her palm, and I especially hate the way I lean into it.

I hate the way I stain her hands with the rust-coloured aftermath of my training to die fighting. I hate the way I worry her with my cuts and bruises. I hate the way I resist when she tries to use me for comfort. I hate the way I abuse her.

I hate the way I dare use up air. I hate the way I dare waste her time. I hate the way I dare take up space. I hate the way my eyes are hooded. I hate the scar on my cheek. I hate the sight of my face. I hate how I love winning fights. I hate how I love the sensation of flesh under my fists.

And, oh, how I hate that all I know to do is hate.

I hate.

Sera hugs me desperately, hiccuping and sobbing. Yumi gently pries her off me. She sniffles loudly, and her face screwed up. Yumi hugs Sera, clearly feeling sorry for her. This proves to be a mistake, as Sera instantly latches onto Yumi with the approximate force of a vice.

"Sera, sweetheart, let me go," says Yumi kindly. Sera responds by burying her face in Yumi's stomach. Yumi pats Sera's head. "We'll be late, Sera. We'll get in a lot of trouble with the Peacekeepers if we're late."

Sera releases Yumi, desperately trying to contain another ocean's worth of tears.

"It's only her first year. She'll be alright, Sera. You guys can go to the beach again afterwards, like you normally do!"

Sera nods. She looks at me, then hugs me again.

"It's a beautiful day for the beach, Sera."

"Okay."

"Come on, Rumi. I wasn't joking."

"Come home, Rumes..."

"...please."

And hate.

Sera wipes her eyes. Then she wipes them again. And again. I hand her a tissue, which is instantly soaked by all the water pouring from her eyes.

"I'm so happy you're still here, Rumi," she manages, voice choked by emotion."And Yumi's going to be okay, right?"

"Of course she will. She wouldn't leave us. She'll fight."

"Y- Yeah... Yeah, I bet she w-w-will! Yumi's amazing! She'll be okay. I bet she'll w-w-win and not have to hurt anyone, either! She's smart enough to figure it out." Sera inhales unsteadily, her usual smile brought to her lips.

I hug her.

And hate.

I do not let go. I cannot ever let go. The world will fall to pieces if I let go. She is dead, so she is holding me together. And I am holding her together also, because Yumi is not here to do it for us.

She weeps. I cannot.

But it won't change the fact that my mother left.

My father barks a laugh. It's angry and mirthless.

"Of course she would. Because she just can't take anything, can she?! She just -" My father abruptly smashes his empty bottle of drink into the wall. It does not break.

"- can't -" Again, he forces the bottle into the wall. " - take -" I hear the bottle crack, but it remains sturdy. The wall is dented now.

"- anything!" The bottle explodes into a shower of shattered glass and alcohol dregs. It's almost pretty, with the way the light hits it.

But it won't change the fact that my father does not accept that I exist.

I gently open the door to my father's study. He is sitting at his desk, head down, and glass in hand. It's mostly empty. Paperwork litters the floor. I read one. It's about a request for a new Peacekeeper division.

I make no attempt to wake my father. He will not like it if I wake him from whatever heavy, dreamless sleep he has deliberately drowned himself in.

But it won't change the fact that Sera was injured.

I clutch the hem of my mother's dress, peering around her in an attempt to see into Cod's home. They talk at the door.

A little girl with blonde hair wanders into my field of view. She turns to look at me. Her face is badly scraped, stitches running from her chin to her nose and her eyebrow to her hair parting. Her nose is mostly obscured by a bandage.

She studies me for a long time, attempting to place me in whatever memories that have not bled out of her. She beams, her grin crooked, and waves.

She calls my name, and I call hers.

But it won't change the fact that Yumi is dead.

"Finnick?"

"Yes?"

"When you get home, can you please do something for me?"

"Of course, Yumi. Anything."

"Tell my family I love them. And there's a girl named Sera Kaishurr. Tell her I love her, too."

"I will, Yumi. I promise."

"My baby sister, most of all. Don't let her forget."

Yumi's slight smile does not ever fade.

And it will never change the fact that I killed her.