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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

89. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.”

93. “Fuck…did we use protection?”

twitch streamer!wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.9k (honestly I think I forgot what drabbles were clearly lol)

warnings: some angst, smut, mutual masturbation, some slight panty stuffing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pregnancy scare, talks about plan b

note: excuse me everyone I literally love gamer and twitch streamer Wonwoo, but not everyone does. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one if you want more twitch!streamer wonwoo let me I will be happy to oblige, I have MANY ideas. Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts.

p.s send me a prompt for either svt or bts or both. I will also happily oblige to that lol

Masterlist || Drabble game

Watching Wonwoo play Zelda was not what you had expected when he had texted earlier asking you to come over. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.” He whispered against your lips in a half kiss when you walked in through his front door.

That had been over an hour and three completed levels ago. It was an empty promise long forgotten as he kept himself immersed in the game, talking enthusiastically about his day and random things his brain would conjure up on the spot. It was like you didn’t exist, and for the most part to his viewers, you didn’t. It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend or anything. Even if you were, you valued your privacy more than anything in the world. You preferred to work on your own things in the background away from his camera whenever you were over. This was something the two of you had mutually agreed to.

Casual hangs and casual sex.

Lately, your relationship had become the product of most of your stress. You never knew where you stood with Wonwoo. Sometimes he would literally invite you over to keep him company while he streamed only to kick you out the second he finished. “I’m too tired, you should go.” He would say pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’ll see you later.”

Of course, those moments were overshadowed by the soft touches he left imprinted on your skin. By the sweetness of the words he shared with you and only you whenever he wasn’t working. It made you want more. More of him, more of his attention, and more of whatever was going on between the two of you. But that was something you refused to bring up afraid that the only one harboring feelings for the other was you.

Heartbreak was not in your plans for life, at least not for a while.

You sighed, throwing your phone down onto the couch. Your patience was wearing thin. Maybe it had to do with the fact you were already having a bad day, and Wonwoo’s indifference towards you wasn’t helping. When you had gotten his text earlier, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. The two of you hadn’t seen each other in a few days with work schedules being all over the place and not aligning. It was something to look forward to, not necessarily because of the sex--which was always amazing. But you really just wanted to talk to him. Lay down with his arms wrapped around you while you complained about work and how frustrating your coworkers were being.

By the looks of it, you weren’t going to get any of that, not even what he had promised when you had first walked in. You were tired, your clothes were starting to annoy and you wanted to cry. If it wasn’t for the fact that his front door was in line with his camera, you would’ve left already.

Wonwoo could sense something was wrong with you. Every time you sighed it felt like you were punching him in the gut. He really meant what he had said when you walked in earlier. He also meant the quiet I love you he mumbled underneath his breath when you walked past him and into the living room. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with you, just that months ago he had woken up and you were the only thing he could think of. Every time he held you in his arms the three little words bubbled up in the back of his throat, wishing he could bring himself to finally say it, but his fear held him back. Afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.

“Alright, you know what I think that’s enough for tonight.” Wonwoo smiled into the camera, trying to keep up with the chat as they begged him not to go yet. “I have to go, my girlfriend is over and I want to spend time with her. Anyway, same time next week Monday guys.” Wonwoo nodded, stopping the stream. Once he was positive that he had turned everything off he felt his shoulders relax and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the panic surging through his veins was unbearable. He turned around in his chair meeting your equally shocked face.

He royally fucked up. He just confessed to his audience without meaning to confess. He had told his audience that you were his girlfriend and he hadn’t even asked you yet. The surprise and speech he had worked on all week, the reason he took a break from streaming until tonight, was for nothing. He had gotten ahead of himself and he didn’t know what to do now. Or how to fix it.

“G-Girlfriend? Wait you have a fucking girlfriend?” You stood up from his couch, blinded by anger. “What the fuck Wonwoo, when were you going to tell me? Before or after you fucked me?” You shouted, your heart was beating fast as you turned around to gather up your stuff.

Unbelievable. Here you were distracted, thinking about how cute he looked while he blamed his failure on his character. The pout that had formed on his lips as he pushed his glasses up his nose and blew out a raspberry, moving aside the strands of his newly dyed blonde hair. The frustration you had felt earlier, forgotten, replaced with admiration. Only for it to come back after what he had said, this time fiery red and ready to burn everything it touched.

“Stop, no wait, I don’t have a girlfriend. At least not yet.” He spoke fast, his words blending with one another as he quickly made his way to you. He grabbed hold of your laptop and held it against his chest.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, did you just call me down to ignore me and then fuck me one last time before you called it quits!” You said in disbelief reaching over for your laptop.

Wonwoo turned around facing away from you. “No that’s not...that’s not what...fuck, calm down please and just let me talk.” He pleaded as he sat down on his couch, your laptop still clutched tightly in his arms. It was your prized possession, it held the first three drafts of the novel you were working on. He knew you well enough to know that you hadn’t backed anything up no matter how many times he told you to do so. So, he was positive that as long as he held onto it like his life depended on it (because it did) you wouldn’t leave without it.

You crossed your arms in front of you ”I am calm, but I don’t know if I want to listen to what you have to say.”

Wonwoo cringed, he was more nervous than what he had intended to be. He had an entire speech planned. Wrote it down, even got Jihoon to proofread it. He had performed it in front of his bathroom mirror every morning and night. He thought he had it in the bag, pumped up his chest a few times before opening his front door to you earlier. Yet, the second he saw you, he forgot everything he had planned to say. This is mainly why he had spent such a long time streaming. Hoping that the distraction would somehow help him remember.

It didn’t.

“Wonwoo, I swear if you don’t start talking in the next five seconds I’m leaving and suing you for holding my laptop hostage.”

Wonwoo sighed and slapped his forehead lightly before turning to look at you, “okay, I don’t think that’s allowed bu-”

“It is if I say that you stole it trying to steal my work, I don’t know I’ll find a way.” You shrugged, earning a glare from Wonwoo. You knew he hated whenever someone interrupted him while he was in the middle of saying something. It was something you would do to him out of spite, but in your humble opinion this time he really did deserve it. Though, it didn’t make you feel as good as you had hoped, “fine sorry, you can continue.” You sighed and sat down on his coffee table.

Wonwoo put your laptop down and leaned over his elbows taking your hands in his. “I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend. I know we agreed to just keep this casual but I can’t help the way my heart literally feels like it’s going to fall out of my ass whenever I’m with you. So yeah, I don’t have a girlfriend yet, because I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend yet. But there’s no one else, only you, and I’m so-”

Wonwoo was cut off when he felt your body land on his, knocking the air out of his lungs. You hugged him, straddling his hips and burying your face into his chest, giggling. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you felt awful for assuming the worst and jumping to conclusions.

“Ask me ask me ask me ask me.” You bounced on his lap like a child. He groaned doubling over in pain.

He placed his hands on your hips to keep you from moving, “No now I know you’re actually trying to kill me.” He smirked and left a sweet kiss against your lips. A low chuckle running past his lips as he took in your pouting face, “fine, my love, my baby will you please be my girlfriend?” He cocked his head, his hands playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Yes, but only if you give me my laptop back and keep the promise you made me earlier.” You smiled innocently, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Wonwoo smirked, his hands made their way underneath your shirt. “No to the laptop, you work too much and I’m determined to back up everything on a hard drive later.” He rubbed his thumbs over the skin of your hips, slowly inching closer to the button of your jeans, “not sure I remember the promise I made earlier though, can you remind me?”

You kissed him slowly, tugging on his shirt, “you said you would finish a level before going down on me all night, and it’s four and a half levels later and I’m still waiting.” You whispered against his lips, before pulling away and bringing his shirt over his head, taking it off, throwing it behind him, aiming for the laundry basket, missing it completely, making you sigh.

“Well you didn’t give me enough time to answer, but that can be arranged.” He pecked your lips, pushing your shirt up and over your head, throwing it behind him. “You’d have to step into my office though.”

“Wonwoo, baby, don’t ever call your room your office.” You rolled your eyes and got up from his lap.

He chuckled, shaking his head and stood up, “oh no that’s not what I meant, room comes later. Tonight we start in my office.” He says cheekily, pointing his thumb towards his gaming setup. Your eyes grew wide as saucers, only making him laugh harder while he pushed you towards his gaming chair.

“Wait, you’re like not going to turn the camera on are you?” You said as he pushed you down to sit in which you obeyed. The colorful lights from his gaming setup kept you distracted as Wonwoo got down on his knees in front of you.

“Nope, I’ve just always wanted to eat you out while you sat on my gaming chair. But maybe one day in the future if you want. You can take over my stream and play animal crossing while I secretly eat you out on camera.” He smirked, the evil glint behind his soft eyes sent shivers down your spine. The little exibitionist in him coming out. You’d be lying if you didn’t find the thought of it exciting.

“One day.” You breathed, lifting your hips, helping him as he pulled down your pants.

Wonwoo sent you a wink pushing your thighs apart with his hands, “We can also play overwatch together. That cute little vibrator you keep hidden in your bedside drawer, stuffed inside your pussy.” He placed his index finger over the wet patch that had formed over your panties, pushing in slightly. “And everytime you die I up the speed, see how long you can last before you have me begging to turn off the stream so you can cum.” Wonwoo kept pushing his finger in you, your panties sticking onto you like second skin.

You threw your head back, digging your nails into the arms of his leather chair. “F-Fuck how long h-have you thought about this?” You lifted your hips as he added another finger.

“Right now, or maybe a few times when you’re not around.” He leaned down kissing your mound lightly, “but seeing you like this, sprawled out, wet and waiting for my mouth is reinforcing those fantasies.” He worked his fingers diligently, pushing the thin material of your panties inside of you. He couldn’t wait to stuff you full with his cock later.

You let out a whimper as his mouth traveled down to your clothed entrance. He removed his fingers licking up a stride, before taking one of your lips into his mouth and biting down on it gently. “W-Wonwoo please I want to feel your mouth.”

“You are, aren’t you?.” He looked, staring at you through the rim of his round glasses before repeating his actions again making you whimper. “Take your bra off, play with yourself for me.” He left a chaste kiss in your inner thigh and sat back on his heels. He palmed himself over his black tracksuit pants as he watched you slowly unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms. You were teasing him, he knew this but he didn’t care. Seeing you get undressed for him was one of his favorite past times, especially because you always went extra slow for him.

You threw your bra, not caring where it landed. You rolled your palms over your nipples, soft sighs running past your lips as you kept your eyes trained on Wonwoo. “Want to feel your hot tongue fucking me Woo.” You spread your legs even further pinching your nipples. You moved your hand down your body, your index finger playing with the seam of your panties. “Is this one of your fantasies? Me touching myself, sitting here?” You said, tilting your head to the side, moving your hand into your panties and running your index and middle fingers over your clit slowly.

“Yes.” He hissed, pushing his hand into his boxers grabbing onto his cock. “God, you make me so hard.”

“Let me see please.” You arched your back, your fingers getting faster. Wonwoo nodded, wasting no time to free himself, his hand wrapped tightly around his length. His index finger connects with the small bead of precum that had formed, showing you how sticky and ready he was for you.

“Want to taste?” You nodded letting out soft moans as you lifted your hips, into the palm of your hand, sticking your tongue out for him. “Fuck.” He cursed getting up on his knees, bringing his index finger up to your mouth. You closed your lips around it, swirling your tongue over the tip, savoring the salty substance.

You pulled away with a pop, taking your fingers out of your panties and bringing them up to his lips. He took them in, moaning around them. “Do I taste good?” You said taking out your fingers from his mouth, moving them over his lips, wetting them further.

“I’m going to have to take a closer look.” He said lowly, pushing your panties down in a haste. He spread your legs, licking up your slit, teasing your hole with his tongue. Being in between your legs was his second most favorite pastime. He savored every moment of it. Sometimes he would prolong your orgasm, keeping you on edge, so that when you came, your sweet substance would coat his lips, spilling down his chin and neck. It was the most beautiful site, one that only he had the privilege in witnessing.

“Mmm, your tongue feels so good Wonwoo.” You pinched your nipple while tugging on the roots of his blonde hair, pushing his mouth closer.

He moaned, slurping up your juices like you were his last meal. He wrapped his mouth around your clit, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go. “I want to be here forever but I don’t think I can last any longer without being inside of you.” He pushed two of his fingers inside of you. The feeling of your wet walls wrapped around his thick calloused fingers made his cock twitch.

“B-But I-I want to cum.” You pouted, arching your back away from his chair, pushing your hips further into his hand. “Please, I’m so close already.” You pant, the knot in the pit of your stomach threatening to break.

“Oh honey, you will. I’ll have you coming undone more than three times tonight.” He stated with determination and brought his mouth down again, closing his lips around your clit. He sucked harshly moaning sinfully. He fucked you faster with his fingers curling them upwards, reaching the soft mushy skin inside of you.

“W-Wonwoo f-fuck don’t stop I-I’m so close.”

Wonwoo let go of your swollen bud, slowing down his fingers as you clenched around them. “Look at me, I want to watch me while you cum.” You agreed with a pleasure filled sigh, watching as he pushed back his glasses. The sight almost had you coming undone.

He put his mouth on you again, increasing the pace of his fingers. Babbles coming out of your mouth as you pulled on his hair, motivating him to go faster. The squelching sounds coming from your wet, hot pussy sounded like music to his ears. He bit down on your clit lightly, sending you over the edge, your cum coating his fingers, while you moaned his name in a sweet sinful prayer. His eyes burning holes into yours, the sight was award winning, his cock begging to be milked out.

Wonwoo continued, riding out your orgasm. Until you felt the oversensitivity overcome your body “W-Woo, s-stop please.” You pushed his head carefully with the palm of your hand.

He kissed the inside of both of your thighs before sitting up on his knees, taking your face into his hands. “You always look so pretty when you cum.” He pecked your lips repeatedly, before wrapping your arms around you hugging you tightly. “I love you so much.” He kissed your temple.

“Why do you always get so mushy every time you make me cum?” You laughed gently, running your fingers down his back, making him shiver.

“You bring out in me, I can’t help it, stop complaining. I’m giving you time to recover before I bend you over my desk.”

“Not complaining. I love it.” You kissed his cheek. “And I love you.” You whispered in his ear, taking his earlobe, pulling it between your teeth.. He groaned, swallowing hard, his getting tighter around you.

“My desk, then my couch, then my bed, then the shower, and then my bed again.”

The sun had started to rise. It was five in the morning and your body was suddenly overcome with sleep, when Wonwoo pulled out of you one last time. He had kept true to his promise, literally fucked you the entire night, christening his apartment, except his kitchen. “If we have sex in the kitchen, the only thing I’ll be thinking about while I’m cooking is your mouth around my dick.” He said as he pushed you into the wide window of his living room, making you laugh.

“Do you have to work today?” He placed a delicate kiss against your collar bone, laying his head on top of your chest.

“It’s Saturday, why would I have work on Saturday?” You smiled sleepily, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed happily, pulling his sheets over the two of you and cuddling into you further.

“You’re always working, I just wanted to ask.” He shrugged, raising his body enough to leave a chaste kiss against your lips. “Take a break today and I promise that by the time you wake up again I’ll have all of your files backed up into the harddrive I bought you.”

You shook your head, placing both of your palms against his cheeks, squishing them. “Do you know how sexy you sound when you talk about computers.”

“Nope, but you once told me to divide you in half when I was explaining finances to you. Now that I think about it, that statement can go both ways.” He smiled laying down on his back, bringing you along with him. Your eyes growing wide when you felt it running down your thighs. You sat up in panic, removing the sheets of your body to see if your silent hypothesis was correct.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, confused.

“Wonwoo, fuck...did we use protection?”

Wonwoo pushed the covers away with his feet, sitting up quickly. He looked between your legs, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, “You’re on the pill still right?”

“We changed my formula, I had to stop taking it for a few days.” You threw yourself down on his bed covering your eyes with your hands. The tears pooling against your eyes. You felt the bed dip next to you. Wonwoo took your hands in his, revealing your tearful eyes to him making him sigh.

“Baby, don’t worry.” He kissed your cheeks repeatedly before sitting up again, “I’ll run down to the convenience store, get a plan b while you go take a bath. I’ll join you when I get back.”

“W-What’s happens if I take the plan b and still miraculously end up pregnant, it’s only ninety five percent effective.”

“Then I’ll be with you every step of the way. I meant what I said earlier, I love you so much and I plan to marry you and have kids with you one day. Don’t worry.”

Your heart felt full. The butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach. Wonwoo and you had shared many intimate dreams and desires before, but this one felt different. This was a dream the two of you shared and it made you feel at ease. “Okay, okay I will, just hurry up please.”

Wonwoo scoffed, getting up from his bed, slipping on his sweatpants and sweatshirt. “Baby please don’t underestimate me. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned down giving you one last kiss before jogging over to his front door. “I love you.” He shouted, opening the door.

You laughed sitting up on your elbows shaking your head, “I love you, now hurry I can feel your child cooking in me.”

“Impossible, it takes roughly twenty four hours for my sperm to fertilize one of your eggs, and it’s literally been thirty minutes. Therefore you wou--”

“Wonwoo shut up just hurry.”

“Okay I love you.” He said while closing his front door. You laughed shaking your head falling back on his bed. Your entire body was aching and though you were a little scared, given obvious circumstances. You had never felt so much warmth and happiness in your life.

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

oh, honey || h. styles

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing

word count: 2.3k

summary: when harry is struck with writer’s block, you come to the rescue and inspire him to write a song, which later becomes known as ‘adore you’...

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harbouring a crush on a man you’d known for about five years. And for four and half years of that, you found he was the only thing that seemed to occupy your mind. With any crush, it was fun at first. The thrill of being around him brought a new spark to your life. But then, gradually, it became tiresome; the constant butterflies and the overthinking every tiny action began to aggravate you.

You’d had a boyfriend since you met Harry. He loved you and you tried to love him. You knew it wasn’t fair on him, and you felt an ounce of extra guilt every day that relationship went on. You knew it was selfish to paint yourself a mirage of a perfect life with a man you knew you couldn’t love.

The relationship lasted eight months. It had never meant to last that long. At first, it was all fun and games - neither of you took things too seriously. A bit of harmless sex and late nights with red wine and David Attenborough documentaries. But then things took a turn, and he began talking of moving in together and meeting each other’s parents. Your parents would have loved him, you knew that. But what good was that when you didn’t love him?

Eventually, the two of you sat down and decided that maybe it was best if you went your separate ways. It was a mutual decision. And you both agreed that it was fun whilst it lasted. So, this relationship you’d gotten yourself into to get your mind off Harry had ended because you could never love this man the way he wanted you to.

It had been a rough eight months for you. Harry had been in somewhat of a mood with, well, everybody. Mitch concluded that he was probably just stressed with writing for the album and making sure everything was perfect for his debut solo album. But, though nobody necessarily picked up on it at the time, when you announced that you’d broken up with your boyfriend, Harry seemed to be in a much better mood ever since.

So, now, as you walked into the studio, you ran your hands along your jean-clad thighs. It was a desperate attempt to rid your palms of the sweat your nervousness had caused. Sarah had called you and asked if you were free to swing by the studio. She said something about needing a new mind to help Harry. Instantly, you agreed. You would always be there for Harry.

Sat on one of the couches was Harry Styles himself, his hand over his eyes. He was alone, his guitar beside him. A notebook of his lyrics was tossed aside, clearly neglected in tiredness or frustration. “Harry?” you called out, closing the door behind you.

He looked up quickly, startled by the sudden disturbance. “Y/N,” he smiled slightly, sitting up properly. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use some help,” you shrugged, slipping out of your black puffer jacket. “And clearly you need it. Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they went to get some lunch at some place down the road,” he replied.

“And what about you? Aren’t you hungry? You need to eat, Harry.”

“I know. I will, I will. I’m just trying to finish this song, is all.”

You nodded slightly, sitting down in front of him on the coffee table. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were resting on top of dark bags. “Let me see,” you said, extending your hand.

Slowly, he placed the notebook into your hands. You stared down at the scribbled lyrics. Things were crossed out; things were circled; things were accompanied by little doodles. On the very top of the page, though, was the rushed title (above a few others, which had been crossed out): ADORE YOU. “I’m just gonna put it aside and come back to it,” he sighed. “Wanna get high? It always helps me write music.”

“No, Harry. I don’t want to get high with you. If you leave it, then you’ll never come back to it and nobody will ever get to hear it,” you replied.

“Except you. I want you to hear it,” he said quietly, so quiet, in fact, that you barely heard it.

He wasn’t looking at you, thankfully. At least he wouldn’t see the mix of nerves and excitement at what he’d just muttered. You shifted slightly, placing the notebook down beside you, “Well, then you’ll have to finish it, won’t you?”

Finally, he looked up at you. You felt tiny as his eyes explored your face, drinking in every last inch of your features. A small smile worked its way up onto his face, “I suppose I will.”

So, Harry began projecting his ideas onto you. He explained what the song was about and the kind of things he wanted to write. He sang the chorus to you, and you swore you melted right there and then. Hearing his voice fill the otherwise silent room you were in, with no other intent than to please you, filled your head with all sorts of fantasies. “It’s good, Harry. It’s really good,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

“Obviously not good enough if I can’t think of anything other than the first verse and the chorus,” he groaned, raking his long fingers through his unruly hair.

In a moment of fleeting confidence, you reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. He looked up at you, his green lagoons of eyes staring directly into your own. “Harry, stop. You’re doing yourself no good thinking like that. No songs start out as the greatest thing ever written; you have to put time and care and effort into them,” you said gently. “Let me help, Harry. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand in return. He pulled out a pen and stared expectantly at you. You smiled - you were happy he was willing to let you help. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, eager to hear a new outlook on these lyrics he had grown sick of reading over and over again.

“Well,” you began, “it obviously has a sort of ethereal vibe to it. So, summer skies? Like, maybe something about ‘you under summer skies’?”

He nodded slowly, absorbing your suggestion. Until, suddenly, his eyes lit up. You knew the look. You’d seen it many a time before. It was the look he adopted whenever he’d been struck by the perfect slice of inspiration he needed to write an incredible piece of music. “You, Y/N, are a bloody genius! ‘Your wonder under summer skies’,” he grinned.

He scribbled the lyric down desperately. You couldn’t help but admire him as ideas escaped his brain and fell onto the paper before him. He finally looked back up at you, the page now littered with prompts and snippets of lyrics. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything for my other songs but they exist because of you,” he rushed out, clearly not comprehending his words. “Shit. Sorry, that- that didn’t mean to come out.”

You smirked. You had the power now, after four and a half years of falling in love with Harry Styles and making a massive fool of yourself in front of him. He’d slipped up and now you were in control. “Yeah? What songs did I unknowingly contribute to?” your confidence was rare, especially when it came to things like this, and yet here it was.

Unfortunately for you, Harry’s natural confidence matched your own. A playful grin swept up his features as he said, “Wouldn’t it be more fun for you to listen to the album and figure it out for yourself?”

“Or you could just tell me the titles?” you asked, your tone hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, his confident smirk faltering for a split second. But, before you had time to say anything else, he said, “There’s this song called Sunflower, Vol. 6. I wrote that because your favourite flowers are sunflowers. And I wrote Cherry because I know you love cherries. And then there’s Golden, because that’s what you are, Y/N. And then there’s Watermelon Sugar because I know that In Watermelon Sugar is your favourite book. And now Adore You, because, I swear to God, Y/N, that’s all I want to do.”

He was rambling and you couldn’t help but smile. Whilst you’d spent your days rambling to your friends about how you were convinced you’d remain single forever if he didn’t happen to fall hopelessly in love with you, it appeared that he’d been writing down all the tiny details about you in his songs. Because it was true: sunflowers were your favourite flowers and cherries were your favourite fruit and In Watermelon Sugar was your favourite book.

He was staring at you now, his eyes searching your face for some sort of a hint on how you were feeling. When you said nothing, your lips parted slightly, he went on, “Hell, I wrote Cherry years ago. I wrote it when you were dating that guy... what was his name?”

“Ollie,” you replied quietly.

He knew what his name was. He never forgot. It had been two years but he’d never forgotten the eight months of hell where he had to watch you cuddle up to him and take him home after your group of friends had gone out for drinks. He didn’t know why he wanted to hear you say his name again. Some sadistic form of self-torture maybe, hearing another boy’s name on your lips. “Yeah, Ollie,” he played it off as if he really had forgotten your ex boyfriend’s name. “I wrote it when you were dating him. And I’ve been sitting on it for two years because I thought if I released it then you would know I’ve been in love with you for four years. But then I just thought ‘you know what, fuck it’, so I’m putting it on the album. And Anna, that was about you. But I’ll never officially release that one. Because I wrote it one night when I was alone and I couldn’t get you out of my head and I needed to tell somebody how I felt about you. Even if that was just a bit of paper. But then I played it to you, do you remember? And you loved it, so I swore to never release it because it felt like I’d confessed to you how I felt.”

As you listened to him ramble away about all of these songs he’d written about you and how much you clearly meant to him, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d dreamed of Harry confessing how much he, well, adored you. And you’d only ever thought it would be an occurrence in your fantastical dreams, and yet here he was, staring back at you, rambling on about how much he loved you. “Wait, Harry,” you spoke up, “isn’t ‘watermelon sugar’ something to do with oral sex?”

You chuckled as he flushed, “That’s besides the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“That I’m in love with you and, I pray to God, you’re in love with me back.”

Overwhelmed with joy, you couldn’t help but throw yourself at Harry. The feeling of his hands around your waist in a way that wasn’t just a slightly prolonged hug goodbye after a night out or a slightly overly flirtatious gesture of Harry’s felt electric. Harry’s hands on you in a way that was meant to be a moment of appreciation shared between two lovers was how it was always supposed to be.

After so long of knowing one another, falling for each other and sharing life changing moments, everything was finally slipping into place. You’d been there when One Direction first began their hiatus. You’d been there when he cut his hair off. You’d been there when he went to Jamaica to write his first solo album. You’d been there, albeit your eyes were shut most of the time, when he was dangling a thousand feet in the air for the Sign of the Times music video shoot. He’d been there when you finished university. He’d been there when you lost your mum. He’d been there when your sister had her first child. He’d been your date to your brother’s wedding. All of these things, and you couldn’t help but feel they mounted to this very moment.

You pulled your head back, admiring his face for a moment. Your arms were around his neck and everything just felt... right. His smile was bright and his eyes were full of nothing but loving joy. Without another moment’s hesitation, your lips were on his. You weren’t sure who leaned forward, but all you knew was that this was what you’d been waiting for for almost five years. And, now you were here, showing Harry how much you loved him, the wait seemed worth it. “We’ve got so much time to make up for,” he whispered.

“Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, embracing your body. All he’d wanted to do for four years was to praise it. And now he finally had the chance to. That was until the two of you heard a voice behind you, “We only left for lunch!”

#harry styles #harry #harrystyles #harry styles imagine #harrystylesimagine #harryimagine #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry x you

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lazy-alex · 3 years

Text

PROMPT- "bee" | Day 13 | can be ROMANTIC

Jasonette july 2021

Today was supposed to be a normal day for Jason. A peaceful and relaxing day alone on his apartment. Just one day to chill and not do anything. Even his 'night job' wouldn't stop him.

But no, the goddam universe hates him.

He was just switching trough TV channels when his door opened suddenly. He expected it to be his older brother Dick, since he's been doing unexpected visits lately. He didn't want his overly-enthusiastic brother ruin his day. Dammit, he forgot to lock his door. Jason dropped the remote and groaned.

"How many fucking times have I told you to stop coming here-" Jason blinked at the person at the door. That person- or girl is definitely not his brother.

She has dark blue hair, pale skin, and bluebell eyes. She's also short, he estimated the same hight of his shoulders. She's wearing a red sweater and jeans. There's also a tiny pink purse that she carried. She looks like she isn't even aware on what she's doing.

The girl stared at him for a second, just staring at him blankly. Then she blinked and her whole face became red. "Oops, wrong door," her eyes went to the TV and she pointed at it. "So, uh... Ya like jazz?" she fell down into the floor, snoring.

"What the fuck?" Jason is so confused. The universe had just to ruin his break.

Jason noticed the large eyebags on her face. She probably haven't went to sleep for a few days to make it that deep. Maybe she's sleep deprived. Jason sighed. Oh gods, not another Tim.

She must be his new neighbor that arrived a few weeks ago. Marinette? He never got to see her it was since he's rarely at his apartment. She seems to also never leave her apartment according to the owner. The owner is also the reason he knew of her existence.

Jason carried her to her apartment- witch he can say is pretty good, except with all the scattered on the floor and a table. There are plenty of unfinished clothes on mannequins. Even if its unfinished, he can tell that they're good. A designer then.

When he stepped in, Jason crinkled his nose from the harsh smell of coffee all-over the place. Dammn, she is another Tim.

Jason set her quietly on the couch near the door so she can sleep peacefully. Jason found a pen and a paper on a nearby table and wrote her a not. He placed it on her hand for her to see when she wakes up.

When Jason returned to his apartment, last question got him thinking him. Who's Jazz?

Jason's question was answered when he turned to the TV. The random channel his remote landed on is playing "Bee Movie".

Huh.

I know, it's short, but better than no post at all. Also, am I supposed to tag - @moonlitceleste ? Since I used her idea as an inspiration? Sorry, I'm kinda new to this.

@jasonette-july-event

#Jasonette #jasonette #jasonette july 2021 #maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #O.o #late post

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Text

The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

valentine’s day + stray kids ✧

the enablers: @wingkkun by virtue of their existence and @thepixelelf bc of her @newskynet valentine’s day prompt list (which can be found here! check it out :D) anyway you can blame them for my word vomits tonight tomorrow <3 happy early valentine’s day and I hope you enjoy these blurbs!

pairing: stray kids x gender neutral!reader (one blurb for each member!)

wc: 3.5k (total)

genre: fluff, lots of fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing

golcha version | the boyz version

SKZ Scenarios Masterlist | SKZ Drabbles Masterlist

1. “shit, what day is it again?”

when chan opens the door to a beaming you, he has no idea what’s going on. he still has headphones around his neck, there are definitely bags under his eyes, he hasn’t slept in maybe close to twenty hours, and there is definitely something important that he’s forgetting, judging by the nonplussed expression that has now slid over your face.

“chan, when did you sleep last night?” you ask, stepping into his dorm. you’re holding something behind your back that chan’s craning his neck to see, but you catch sight and twist away. “hey, no looking.”

the knowledge that you have something is more than enough, though, to get his overly tired brain actually thinking. his eyes narrow. what the heck is he forgetting -

oh.

oh no.

chan scrambles around for his phone as you look over, eyebrows rising as he pats his pockets. “shit, what day is it again?”

you hold up your own phone, giving him an eyeful of your lock screen set to a picture of himself laughing into the camera. he isn’t focused on that, though - he’s focused on the words underneath the time that say “february 14, 2021.”

“oh my god, it’s valentine’s day.”

“no shit, sherlock.” you put a finger to his forehead and press hard. “i made reservations.”

“what? okay, no, i swear you didn’t tell me about this -”

“i didn’t, chan.” you smile, shaking your head. “it was supposed to be a surprise. and i knew you’d forget the day or something because you always do lose track of time - hey, don’t look at me that way, i even made a bet with minho on the way and i’m right - so i came early to force you to sleep for several hours before we go out.”

okay, that’s fair, but chan’s lips curve downward into a pout anyway. “i didn’t forget,” he protests. “well, i forgot today, but i still have something for you! i got it last week.” he looks around frantically, then drags a box out from underneath his bed. “here!”

a wide smile splits your face and you pull your own present from behind your back, a red-wrapped box that chan begins to open as you cuddle the teddy bear he’s handed over to you. “chan, you sap,” you say, words muffled in the bear’s fur. “god i love you.”

“and i love you too,” he replies, pulling out a box of his favorite candy. “kiss?”

laughing, you press your lips together once, twice before pulling away. “sleep time,” you announce. “no kisses until you’ve gotten at least three hours.”

chan all but lunges into bed, trapping you with him between his arms. “sleeping now,” he says, voice muffled into your shirt. “goodnight.”

“good afternoon, more like.” you smile anyway, stroking his hair. “but good night.”

18. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

minho is about to lose his shit in this tiny hospital bed with the sterile white sheets and curtains barring sunlight from streaming on his body. back when his ankle wasn’t broken to high hell, he really hadn’t given the sun enough appreciation. after three days of almost zero movement, though, he swears he’ll actually go outside voluntarily once he gets out of here.

the door opens. a head peeks in.

ah. there’s his daily dose of human sunshine.

a smile slides onto minho’s face as you come in, arms full of snacks and flowers. you place a bouquet of red roses on the little table beside his bed and dump the snacks onto his sheets. “happy valentine’s day, idiot boyfriend who broke his ankle just three days before today.”

minho scowls. “it’s not like i tried to.”

“i know. even you’re not that dumb.” you pat his head mockingly, laughing as minho’s scowl deepens. “sit up, idiot. here, i’ll help.”

he allows his frown to turn into a grudging smile as you help him sit properly in bed, careful not to jar his ankle before passing him one of the bags of chocolates in his lap. “jisung gave this to me for you and asked me to ask you if you would be his valentine.”

minho pauses in opening the bag. “what.”

“jisung for you.” you laugh. “his partner was right next to him laughing their ass off. try the chocolates.”

he picks one out. puts it in his mouth. chews. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

“what - how the fuck do you know what chalk tastes like?”

“i don’t, what the fuck? i just imagine it would taste like this.”

you snort. “so my boyfriend first breaks his ankle dancing three days before we valentine’s, and on this romantic day i learn he’s definitely eaten chalk.” you sigh, snatching a bag of gummies from the sheets. “what a day.”

“i don’t eat chalk!”

“bet.”

he opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off with a kiss. “eat your chalk chocolate,” you direct when you pull away. “or jisung will get upset.”

“ugh fine.” he rolls his eyes. “but i’m only listening to you because i love you.”

“cheeseball.” you smile. “i love you too.”

20. “babe.” / “since when do you call me babe?”

grinning, jisung picks up the bouquet of roses you were about to hand him before falling to the ground in laughter. “these for me?”

“no, they’re for my valentine.” you snatch them back, still wheezing. “which was going to be you, but you ditched me for minho, so now i need to find someone else.”

“aw, come on.” jisung pouts, pursing his lips actively even as you try to hide the smile on your face by turning away. “y/n! y/n. y/nnnnnnnnn. y/n, look at me. please? y/n. babe.”

“what the - jisung - since when do you call me babe?” your half disgusted, half amused face sends him into hysterics as he glomps you in a hug, laughing into your shoulder. “hey, sung! get away! you’re drooling on my clothes!”

“am not!” jisung pulls away, trying to pout but laughing too hard to do so. you just looked so fucking funny. “and what’s wrong with me calling you babe?”

“don’t do it again.” you push his shoulder. “do not. you won’t like the consequences.”

“consequences?”

“one, you don’t get these flowers. i’ll put them in my own room.” you wave the bouquet in front of him. “two, i give chan the all clear to play ‘wow’ on his campus radio station.”

“you wouldn’t dare -”

“three, no kisses for a week.”

jisung falls to his knees. “no, no, y/n, my beautiful and wonderful significant partner, i will never call you babe again, please don’t sentence me the barren world of no kisses for a week just because of my idiot mouth -”

“jesus christ, jisung, get up. you’re making a scene.” you laugh anyway, pulling him up before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. “i was just joking. but please don’t call me babe if you don’t want me to cringe to the next dimension.”

“done deal.” jisung holds his out his hands. “flowers?”

you roll your eyes, handing them over. he breathes in their scent, smiling widely. “they’re so pretty!” then he looks up and winks. “but not as pretty as you.”

at that, you laugh again, crushing the bouquet as you wrap him in a hug. “i love you so much, jisung,” you murmur into his ear.

his arms reach out to loop around your waist as he pulls you closer. “i love you too,” he replies, smiling.

for a moment, you two only stand, finding peace in each other’s warmth. then jisung’s mouth runs once more.

“you know, i wrote my lyrics for ‘wow’ thinking of you.”

“do you have to ruin every moment?”

14. “you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin doesn’t even bother to reply to the picture jisung’s just sent of the flowers his partner gave him. he’s too nervous, his stomach literally fluttering as he stops his motorcycle by the curb and wheels it into the shop.

“hi, welcome, what can i - changbin?” you raise an eyebrow. “did you seriously bang up your motorcycle on valentine’s day?”

changbin’s ears turn bright red. he knows it even if he can’t see them. you think he always comes here because something else has magically gone wrong with his motorcycle, but what you don’t know is that he’s been pretending things are wrong with the vehicle for months at this point just so he has an excuse to see you.

and now it’s valentine’s day. the day he chose to fess up and admit how he feels and ask you on a date.

heck.

“nothing’s... broken.” changbin scratches his neck. “uh...”

both of your eyebrows are now high up on your forehead. “so why are you here?”

“i...” he coughs, feeling his ears flare even hotter. “i wanted - i wanted to ask if you -” he looks down, unable to look at you. “i wanted to ask if you would go out with me today. like. on a date.”

silence. he doesn’t have the courage to look up.

“you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin shrinks behind his motorcycle. holy fuck, this was the worst idea, you’re about to reject him and his heart is going to shatter -

then you step forward, place a hand on the vehicle. “okay, that came out wrong.” you tip his chin up gently so he’s forced to look into your soft, teasing eyes. “what i meant is that i’d love to go on a date with you today. i just didn’t expect you to ask me out on valentine’s day. didn’t seem like a very you thing to do.” you pause. “though i guess considering that song you played for me last time, it isn’t that surprising.”

oh, god. on track. changbin wrote that thinking of you.

“wait, seriously?”

he really just said that out loud. changbin groans, slapping his forehead. “why am i dumb,” he mumbles into his hand.

you laugh, peeling his hand away with grease-covered fingers. “you’re not dumb, bin. just sweet.” as he melts from the use of your nickname, you wave your greasy palm in front of his face. “let me go wash and tell seungmin to close up early. i’ll be out in a second.” you grin. “looking forward to whatever you have planned.”

(later, when you wrap your now clean arms around changbin’s waist on his motorcycle, he smiles so wide it feels like his face is going to split.)

25. “i love you.”

with a relieved sigh, seungmin locks up the shop, wiping grease-stained fingers on a towel. despite the fact that he mostly only handles the register, dirt still manages to get everywhere, even when he tries to be careful.

doesn’t matter. seungmin likes his job, likes it even though it’s a little hard to be independent from his parents after so many years of living off their credit card. the freedom is sweet, though - now he can learn what he wants, do what he wants, and best of all...

now he can date whom he wants.

seungmin smiles, running up to his dorm so he has just enough time to change and shower before meeting you. he cleans up quickly before grabbing the singular rose in a glass on his desk and racing downstairs once more, hair still slightly damp, to meet you in front of the building.

god, you’re beautiful, standing against the backdrop of the afternoon sun. in the moment that you don’t notice him walking out the door, he runs forward, smiling, before engulfing you in a back hug.

“hey - oh, seungmin.” he can hear the smile in your voice as you clutch his hands hanging around your shoulders. “you scared me!”

“sorry,” he says, pulling away to spin you around. god, looking into your laughing face, seungmin knows everything was worth it. he may have lived in the lap of luxury before, attending parties every other weekend and drinking the finest champagne while dressed in the most resplendent clothing (courtesy of the kim family empire), but luxury doesn’t mean much when he was missing real, true love, right? you were one of the first, other than hyunjin, to see through his cold facade and break into the warm heart underneath.

as he hands you the rose, he’s glad, so glad that you gave him the courage to go head to head with his parents for the first time, to finally break away from their strangling control over every bit of his life. what did he need parties and designer clothing and jewels for, anyway? he’s still living, still able to support himself even if it means a little more work. and even if he’s tired, he has your lips to come back to, every day.

“i love you,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, sweetly. “i really do, y/n.”

“so do i,” you breathe, smiling against his lips in reply.

12. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

hyunjin kind of wants to hit you, significant other or not. judging by your shit-eating grin, you probably know exactly how he feels, but you keep your eyes as soft and innocent as possible. “no, i don’t know what day it is, hyunjin. isn’t it just february 14?”

“y/n.”

“hyunjin.”

he groans, sinking dramatically to the ground. “it’s valentine’s day.”

“oh. right.” you adopt a thinking expression, raising your eyes to the sky. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

“y/n!”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding!” you finally laugh, reaching out a hand to pull him up from the university quad. “hey, get up, hyunjin. you’re going to get your designer clothes dirty.”

shit, he is. hyunjin accepts your hand, dusting grass bits off of his shirt. “you’re so mean,” he whines. “to think i had a whole evening planned and all, just for you to pretend to forget the entire day.”

“ah, but i didn’t forget. i only pretended to.” you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “and to prove it, i have something for you! close your eyes.”

eagerness and apprehension flooding his veins, hyunjin shuts his eyes. for a moment, he hears you digging around in your bag, and then you put something in his hand. “here!”

opening his eyes, hyunjin looks down to see a pair of elegant earrings in his palm. you made them, definitely - he can see the tiny mark of your initials etched in the metal of one earring, his initials on the other - and he smiles wide, so wide, all of your previous transgressions forgotten in this moment. “i love them,” he says, already unfastening the hoops currently in his ears to put the new ones in.

“i thought you would. hey, let me help.” your fingers take the earrings, deftly inserting one into each ear. “perfect.”

“i have something for you two, but you’ll get it later.” hyunjin pockets his old earrings before taking your hand. “right now, i’m taking you on a date.”

“what, i have no say in this?” your eyes sparkle.

“nope!” hyunjin laughs, swinging your arms in the air. “come on, i swear the evening’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“i believe you.” you stop him to kiss him once, softly. “everything’s fun with you, hyunjin.”

15. “shut up and kiss me.”

with the brownie box in his hands almost empty, felix makes every effort to dodge anyone who knows for fear that they’ll ask for one of the last few treats left inside. hyunjin took like five earlier, jesus christ, even when felix warned him he was saving some for you. ungrateful brat.

thankfully, no one accosts him, and he makes it to your meeting place without interruption. there you already are, mindlessly twirling a bouquet of roses around in your fingers. as he approaches, you look up, and felix is (once again) blown away by the intensity of your smile.

some people liken him to the sun. others, with his freckles, compare him to the stars. both, though, felix thinks are more proper descriptors for you and your lovely grin that’s as bright as the sun and the stars combined.

“felix!” you stand as he comes closer, handing him the roses. he passes over the box of brownies and you screech in delight, taking off the lid and popping one of them into your mouth. “oh my god, it’s so good.”

“don’t talk with your mouth full,” felix scolds, smiling anyway. “do you only love me for my brownies?”

“maybe” is the cheeky reply. you laugh as felix reels in mock astonishment, placing a dramatic hand to his chest. “i’ve been betrayed,” he wheezes. “stabbed in the back by my one true love who turned traitor to our romance, how will i live -”

“hey, felix?”

he looks up. “hm?”

your eyes sparkle. “shut up and kiss me.”

your lips taste like chocolate, sweeter even than the brownie you just finished. felix puts his arms around you, rose petals brushing against your back as he holds you close, close, closer -

“oh my god.”

a familiar voice makes felix pull away from your lips as he turns around. “jeongin?”

“nope, nope, nope,” the younger boy chants, eyes fully closed. “i saw none of that, jesus christ, come on, let’s go -”

too late, felix notices the person standing next to his friend, eyes also screwed shut. a smirk rises on his face. that must be jeongin’s crush, he thinks as they race away, the crush he’s been sweating over asking out for the last few weeks.

“aw, man.” felix frowns, suddenly coming to a realization. “jeongin probably wanted to confess here.”

“he’ll do fine,” you laugh, tugging at his arm. “now get back here. we’re not finished.”

felix smiles, pulling you close once more. “no, we aren’t.”

6. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

listen. jeongin did not need to see felix making out with his partner right before he was about to confess. not only did it completely ruin his plans to talk to you in the prettiest part of campus, but he also has an image seared into his mind that he really does not need.

“sorry,” he mutters, still unable to look at you.

“it’s fine.” jeongin can hear the second hand embarrassment in your voice. “it wasn’t your fault. uh.” you pause. “you said... you wanted to tell me something?”

right. jeongin squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the previous images from his brain. “yeah. i did. um.” he swallows, then forces himself to look into eyes that sparkle in the fading sunlight, eyes that he fell in love with so many months ago when you two first worked on that project together.

thankfully, his words don’t fail him. “i just wanted to say i like you a lot, y/n.” jeongin keeps looking at you, even though all he wants to do is run away screaming. “as in... i want to ask you out. if that’s okay with you.”

silence.

then you start giggling.

jeongin frowns. why -

“oh my god, jeongin.” you double over on the bench, laughing even harder. “i’m so sorry.”

his heart sinks as embarrassment begins to burn his ears. “if you don’t like me -”

“no, no!” you straighten, wiping your eyes. “no, it’s not about that. it’s just -” you snort - “oh my god, you wanted to ask me out in the garden, right? but felix was there, and... jesus christ. jeongin, i’m so sorry.”

his cheeks flare red, but he also lets out a major sigh of relief that your laughter wasn’t a rejection. “yeah,” he says, a grudging smile climbing onto his face. “yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.”

you wipe your eyes again. “sorry for laughing. i didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything. i’d actually love to go out with you.” you smile. “really.”

“well, thank god for that.” jeongin huffs, cheeks still hot. “or i would’ve gotten this for nothing.” he holds out a small teddy bear. “this is for you.”

“oh.” you take it, eyes turning soft. “oh. no one...” you swallow. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

jeongin’s heart melts, it really does, seeing the slow, shy smile spread across your face as you hold the bear close. “thank you, jeongin.”

“you’re welcome,” he breathes, hardly able to find his words as the sun creates a stunning backdrop behind you as it begins to set. “happy valentine’s day, y/n.”

you smile wide, so wide. “happy valentine’s day, jeongin.”

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writingsbymarie · 4 years

Text

Stay - Rafe x reader

(not my gif)

Word count: 1,728

Warnings: Swearing, angst and fluff

Request: prompt number one with rafe pretty please 🥺

Prompt: “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

A/n: yes I know Rafe is not a good person, but he is intriguing and I love Drew so I just had to write for him, and in this I wrote him much sweeter like they should have written him, and in this he doesn't kill the sheriff. In this the reader and Rafe are 17 so still in high school as well. Also send in requests for JJ and Rafe, and I’d also be willing to write for John B. and Pope. prompt list

Rafe Cameron. He was the most popular boy at the kook academy. He was the guy girls swooned over even though he tended to be an arrogant ass, especially when he was around his friends. You on the other hand had seen the soft side of him. The side of him the made your heart swell and your cheeks heat up which was precisely why you may have had a tiny crush on him. You on the other hand weren't popular at all. You were one of those people who were just there. No one really had a problem with you, and you had a small group of best friends who were the only people you would hang out with. You would consider Rafe one of your best friends, but just not to the outside world.

Ward Cameron and your father were business partners. You lived a small drive or boat ride from their residence meaning most of their meetings and planning were done in person, and oftentimes Ward would bring Rafe and Sarah along to your house or you and your sister would go there. Your sister was fourteen the same with Sarah, and you and Rafe were seventeen. You sister would usually hang out with Sarah, and you would usually join them, but some days you spend the time with Rafe. A lot of the time it would be working on homework or talking about the kook academy drama going on in your grade. Rafe was a different person when he wasn’t surrounded by others. He was considerate, he would ask you how things were going for you, and he would listen to you if you ever had any problems, and in return you would listen to him. You too were pretty close, but the truth was to the outside world and your fellow classmates you didn’t exist to Rafe. What they didn’t know was you were the person who was always here for him. The person who he came to talk to when you felt alone. At times the fact he would ignore exist unless you were alone together angered you, but you would never say anything about it because the last thing you wanted was to taint the relationship you and

Rafe had built throughout the years of friendship.

Ward was a bad father, that's one thing you knew for sure. The way he treated Rafe was unacceptable, and it broke your heart to hear Rafe tell you the awful things his father would say to him. Sarah was his obvious favorite child. He praised her, and gave her whatever her heart desired, but when it came to Rafe he was never enough, and it weighed him down. Rafe would try, so hard to prove himself to his father. He got good grades, was one of the fastest swimmers on the swim team even making nationals, but Ward didn’t care. You were always there up the pieces and the pain of feeling like a disappointment. Rafe Cameron wasn’t a disappointment to you. To you he was extraordinary, and you made sure to always remind him that you were proud of him.

You and Rafe had an emotional connection that was more than just friendship, but both of you were terrified to ruin it, because you needed each other.

Today Ward brought Rafe to your house to listen in on business plans. He had told Rafe that if he showed responsibility he would maybe be able to take over in the future. Rafe was ecstatic that his father was giving him a chance today, but you were a mess. You were usually a happy person, but you were stressed to the max. You had tests in 3 of your classes and an essay due, and you were overwhelmed to the point you couldn’t think straight. You were frustrated, and ready to have a complete mental breakdown. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and all you wanted to do was scream into a pillow. You felt like you were getting worked up over nothing, and that so many people were going through worse, but anxiety was coursing through your veins and you just wanted to cry. Honestly what you really wanted was for someone to hold you well you cried, and the last thing you thought was that the one thing you wanted would come true.

You forgot that Rafe was even here, even though texted you, and asked to hang out after the meeting was over, so when you heard a knock on your door followed by the voice of Rafe asking if you were in there you almost had a heart attack.

You looked like a mess. Your hair was in a messy bun. You were wearing a large sweat shirt that covered your shorts, and your eyes were red, and your make most definitely made you look like a raccoon. You quickly wiped your eyes looking in your full length mirror trying to fix yourself as best as you could and you yelled to him that he could come in. You could tell the meeting must have gone well because his demeanor was soft and happy. You were hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell you were upset, but the second he saw your face he frowned noticing that you were visibly distraught.

“Hey what's wrong” he asked softly, coming closer to you.

“Rafe, it's nothing I wanna hear about how today went,” you said, blinking away the tears that were trying to escape your eyes.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, you look like you have been crying” he argued, and you walked to sit down against the head of your bed.

“Rafe I’m seriously fine, just tell me about how today went” you reassured, but he wasn’t convinced. He didn’t want to talk about how the meeting went until he fixed whatever had made you cry. Seeing you sad was breaking his heart.

“Please talk to me Y/n, I know you're upset. I've known you long enough to know when you are sad” he said as he took a seat next to you.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m just stressed. I have so many tests and a whole essay to write this weekend, and I feel like my head is going to explode, and all I want to do is curl up and cry” you ranted the tears stinging your eyes again, and you looked away from him as tears slid down your face.

“Hey look I know I can’t study for you, but you are the smartest girl I know, and I know you will be able to get it all done, and after monday I’ll take you out for ice cream to celebrate no matter how you do, because I know how hard you try” he smiled softly turning you face to face him. He wiped a tear from your eyes, and he could tell you were holding in the tears. “It's okay to let it out Y/n sometimes the best thing is to cry, and after you feel better” and with that you started to cry, and Rafe pulled you into his chest, and you cried into his shirt letting out all your anger and stress. He rubbed your back whispering sweet things like how everything was going to be fine, and you held onto him for dear life never wanting to let go. Once you had calmed down you laid limp in his arms. You closed your eyes enjoying the warmth of his body. You eventually pulled away wiping your eyes and looking up at him.

“Thanks Rafe I definitely need that” you whispered.

“It’s no problem I know you do the same for me” he smiled wiping a tear that you had missed from your eye making you blush. This was the closest you had ever really been to him, your face was inches from his. His eyes flicked from your lips back to your eyes, and you were pretty sure he was going to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him, but you were terrified to, not only were you not prepared to face your feelings for him, you had never kissed anyone and the last thing you wanted was to be a horrible kisser, and you were pulled from his thoughts, when he asked.

“Can I kiss you”

Your thoughts were racing, and you knew you had to answer quickly or it would get really awkward really fast so you said what you wanted to say.

“Yes” but before he could lean in you cut him off. “But i’ve never well..” you trailed off your face becoming as bright as a tomato, and you bowed your head down. His eyes widened for a second when he realized you never kissed anyone. He thought your reaction was adorable.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he smirked

“No” you mumbled.

“Do you want to kiss me” he asked hopefully.

“So bad” you responded looking back up at him, and he slowly connected his lips to yours. His lips were soft, adn a bit chapped. His lips moved slowly against yours and one of his hands held your cheek. Your brain was going into overload, and you felt all the stress slip away from your body, because you were kissing the boy you’ve been crushing on since elementary school. You pulled apart from the kiss your faces still close.

“So how was that for a first kiss?” he breathed.

“Everything I wanted and more” you smiled giving him a peck on the lips.

“So how would you feel about me taking you out to dinner next week?” he winked.

“I think we could arrange something” you giggled, and he kissed your forehead, and you cuddled back into his chest enjoying the fact that the boy you loved was now yours.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader

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deadlyglacier · 3 years

Text

20 Questions tag~

I was tagged by @mythicamagic thank you senpai~<3

How many works do you have on AO3?

40 right now, plus 1 that is still hidden because of the SOFA Exchange event. (I’m still a lil fish.)

What’s your total AO3 word count?

486,920! That’s so amazing to me!

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

InuYasha - A Feudal Fairytale (18)

FullMetal Alchemist (18)

Mass Effect Trilogy (3)

Let’s Play (Webtoon) (1)

Kingdom Hearts (1) But I hope to write for many more fandoms in the future! I have ideas for fics for Castlevania, Skyrim, Fallout 4, Last of Us Part II, and more!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

#1. Stardust FemShep/Garrus, Mass Effect Trilogy, Rated Explicit. A retelling of the Shepard/Vakarian love story, with lots (and LOTS) of sexiness, from Garrus' point of view. Starts from before the Omega-4 and will end sometime after the end of ME3. Trying to stay as true to the game as possible, while adding some things happening off camera and a new ending.

#2. Flamingo Sess/Kag, Inuyasha, Rated Explicit Kagome's method of beating the summer heat attracts a certain demon lord...

#3. Hawk Sess/Kag, Inuyasha, Rated Explicit Kagome and Sesshomaru discover they have a mutual attraction for each other after a battle and a slight comedic incident brings them together. At first their relationship seems entirely sexual, but eventually evolves into something real. What will this romance mean for Naraku? Or even the future? *TRIGGER WARNING FOR CHAPTER 6! MAJOR VIOLENCE AND TRAGEDY* Very, very loosely based on "A Mere Digression" by elle6778

#4. Daisy Sam/Charles, Let’s Play, Rated Mature Sam wakes up somewhere unfamiliar with a splitting headache with no memory of the night before. Takes place right after the S2 finale. First chapter was my prediction for what would happen next, and then three other “wishful thinking” chapters happened, lol.

#5. Chemistry Ed/Winry, FullMetal Alchemist, Rated Mature A look at how the relationship between Ed and Winry developed after Brotherhood ended. Cute, sweet, funny, and hot (eventually—y'all that know me know I gotta have some NSFW in there).

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to respond to everyone, especially when a fic of mine has just been posted, but sometimes I just forget. If I haven’t responded to your comment, please know it’s just because I’m a big dumb and forgot! I love getting comments, and I reread them all the time! I just feel like there’s a time limit to when I can respond to them--if I let too much go by, it’s awkward if I reply. Gah, but that’s just me getting in my own head, I guess. I’ll do better!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oof, definitely Psychology, a fic I wrote for RoyEdOTPoly this year. The prompt I got was dark, and I didn’t see any way around an angsty ending. Read at your own risk!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Well, aside from the last fic, I try to write happy endings for all my fics! But, if I have to name names, I’m torn between Zoology (another FullMetal Alchemist fic, RoyEd, for RoyEdOTPoly this year) and Stardust (my Mass Effect fic, which is long, but so worth it, in my opinion). Both are very fluffy in the end!

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Argh... I don’t really like crossovers, to be honest. I actively avoid them when looking for fics to read. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought of writing them myself. (I’m a total hypocrite, I know.) I had an idea for an Inuyasha x The Sims fic, years ago, that I never did anything with. The premise was basically Inuyasha and Kagome would get trapped in the game somehow (via the jewel or magic or something), and they’d be controlled by Souta, Kagome’s friends, Hojo--all sorts of different people who think the fact that Kagome and Inuyasha are in the game is just some kind of silly mod. I probably won’t write it, so if anyone is interested in that crazy idea, have at it! You have my blessing. <3 I also have a crazy crossover idea for what I call an “Ultimate OT3″ of mine that I’ve mentioned to my friends, but I haven’t actually written down yet: Sesshomaru/Alucard/Sebastian Michaelis. So be on the lookout for that!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I wouldn’t call it “hate” so much as “mansplaining,” but I have gotten a couple of comments that made my eyebrow twitch on Stardust--both on AO3 and FFN. Just dudes (and I’m fairly certain they were dudes, just from their tone) trying to explain why a certain plot twist wouldn’t work, or tell me how to save Sidonis in the actual game (which I already knew, that person just didn’t read what I wrote). I’ve also gotten a comment on one of my more controversial fics, Hippology, on FFN, where the person asked me if I thought my summary was K-Rated (which, admittedly, it does need to be for the site, and mine wasn’t--because of a single word). I changed it and messaged them saying it was fixed. Going to that commenter’s profile, however, proved to be fairly enlightening... They’re nuts. They have another profile, too. Read at your own risk. Yikes. There’s also a team of people on FFN who make it their life’s mission to report stories with rule violations. I’ve gotten a comment from one of them as well. These people are not mods, they just like to pretend they are--one of them even made their name look official! “CU Administration,” gtfo dude. I also recently got one of my fics removed from FFN. It wasn’t even one of my sexiest ones! They put me in timeout for 48 hours, and when I was finally able to publish something new on the site again, I posted Hippology (my centaur smut), and it’s still up as I type this. (Wonder how long it’ll take them to notice?) And since the fic that got taken down was a SessKag fic, I’m thinking it might have been a petty SessRinner who reported it to the “authorities” of FFN, because another friend of mine got hers taken down not long after mine, and it was also SessKag. Just my tinfoil theory, anyway!

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, yes, yes. It’s practically all I write. I do all sorts of smut, from romantic, sensual stuff, to specific kinks, to monsterfucking--all that good stuff. Can’t change me~<3

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

God, I hope not!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so. No one has asked me if they can translate one, anyway.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet! I’m open to the idea, and I’ve had little discussions with my fic-writing buddies about it, but nothing’s come out of it just yet. Keep your eyes peeled!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh, now come on! I can’t pick just one! But I’ll give you a top 3 (in no particular order, because they change places a lot, depending on how obsessed I am with them at the moment). Inuyasha: Sess/Kag FullMetal Alchemist: Roy/Ed Mass Effect: Garrus/FemShep

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have a couple of stories that I deleted from my original FFN account that I’d like to re-write and re-post on AO3, but I don’t think I’ll ever get around to it. There were a couple of Inu/Kag fics I had in-progress, and then a Koug/Kag fic. I recently rewrote and reposted my SessKag fic from years ago, Hawk, on FFN, AO3, and Dokuga! So maybe all hope isn’t lost. I’m even writing a sequel for Hawk! All the stories I have in-progress right now I plan on finishing. At some point, lol.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, without a doubt. It’s my favorite thing to write, aside from smut, of course--which is another strength of mine.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions, ugh. I try to do them well, but I always feel like they get stale. So I keep them somewhat vague, because in my mind, I think readers will fill in the gaps themselves whether you describe something immaculately or not--they’ll see what they want to see, and that is totally fine in my book! Or maybe I’m just making excuses, lol. I’ll only describe something in a lot of detail if I want the reader to focus on that--usually an outfit, accessory, or weapon--otherwise, I leave it up to their imagination (I don’t want manipulate it too much, I suppose).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Wildly unnecessary unless that author speaks the language as well, or if certain words already exist in the fandom’s translations (ex. “youkai,” “alkahestry,” etc).

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Inuyasha, and the fic(s) I wrote in the beginning were terrible. I want to burn all traces of them off the face of the earth. I was in middle school. I was young and stupid.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I gotta go with Stardust. It’s the longest fic I’ve ever completed at more than 160k words. I was so immensely proud when I typed “The End,” and I was able to say to myself “I did it.”

I tag: @glassesmcfancyhair @willowsrain

#SessKag #RoyEd #SamCharles #Shakarian #Inuyasha #FullMetal Alchemist #Let's Play #Mass Effect #fanfiction #writers supporting writers #q and a #I don't know what else to put so here

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doctenwho · 4 years

Text

Lured Desire

Hello! Thank you for the prompt! I’m glad you liked Not a Cat Person! Sorry this took a bit, you caught me in the process of moving! This was alot of fun to write when I finally figured out how to make it work! I wrote this three times; it got deleted once, I forgot what I was doing once (that one’ll probably be made into something else), and then there was this copy!

Hopefully it’s close to what you’re looking for! I tried to follow your prompt as best as I could, so I hope you like it!

Summary: Check out the prompt!

Warnings: I don’t think there really is any for this one.

Word Count: 6,524

*Gif is not mine, credit to the creator*

The landing was rough. Unexpected. It was enough to rattle both you and the Doctor to the floor.

You lost your footing, falling backwards. You managed to catch yourself on the guard rail behind you, but it didn’t really offer much as a way to balance. Not when the whole of the TARDIS was quaking with the rails. The Doctor had been flung from the console as well, but he was quick to get back to his feet and start pushing buttons and pulling levers to try and steady the TARDIS.

You pulled yourself to your feet, keeping a strong grip on the railing. The TARDIS was still moving, shaking and plummeting. You didn’t need the Doctor to tell you that the TARDIS was crashing, you’d been in enough TARDIS crashes to know when it was happening.

Besides, even if you did attempt to talk to the Doctor, he probably wouldn’t even acknowledge you. He did really have better things to be worried about if his TARDIS was crash landing. There wasn’t much he could do, but there was always something that could make things easier—less messy.

It took a few minutes for it to stop feeling like you were dropping right out of the air, and for the floor to stop vibrating and settle on solid ground. The Doctor still didn’t seem pleased, a foul look on his face as his hands shot out to fidget with different parts of the control console.

You let him work in silence for a few more minutes, waiting in case anything more happened that could result in you falling on your arse, before cautiously making your way towards the man doing stressed circles around the TARDIS console.

“What happened?” you asked as you approached him. He barely paused in his movement. His hands were still busy, like the time and space ship was still falling, which you were quite sure wasn’t the case. He glanced at you briefly, then turned his attention towards the screen he’d pulled away so you couldn’t see. “Did we crash?”

“No,” the Doctor replied sharply without so much as a glance in your direction. “We didn’t crash, we fell. We fell a bit and then settled. There’s a difference, (y/n).”

“Okay,” you frowned, moving closer to him so you could see what he was doing. A crash was a crash to you, falling usually resulted in a crash, but you weren’t about to go against the Doctor when he was already so riled up.

“We fell, and it doesn’t make sense,” the Doctor muttered, but you weren’t too sure whether he was talking to you, or just speaking aloud to himself, “it doesn’t make sense. How could we have...”

His voice faded off, as he hunched into reading whatever was on the screen. Most of it was in what you assumed was Gallifreyan—something the Doctor would do when he didn’t want you to see what was happening. The TARDIS wouldn’t translate her mother tongue, so it was a failsafe for the man to revert things to Gallifreyan instead of English so you couldn’t read along.

With him completely distracted by the screen, you moved towards the doors. He didn’t seem to notice you, and if he did, he didn’t bother saying anything. You don’t know what overcame you—you never acted before the Doctor explained more.

Alien planets, or different time periods weren’t to messed around with. Especially without the Doctor’s incite. You’d never just gone to open a door, but something was pulling you towards the doors. Towards what was on the other side of the doors. Whatever was out there...

The doors opened easily, and you peeked your head out to see what was around you.

“Uh, Doctor?” You blinked, taking a step out to gaze around you. You could faintly see the man’s head look up from the screen inside the TARDIS out of the corner of your eye, but you were too busy studying your surroundings to really take note of the complete alarm in his eyes.

“(Y/N)!” the Doctor’s voice called, when he finally took notice of your absence. The man’s eyes shot around the room hurriedly, before falling on the open doors. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, your absence in the TARDIS console room and the open doors.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled as he shot around the console to pull you back into the TARDIS. “We’re floating through--” the man froze when he reached the doorway, hand locked on your elbow with a tight, protective grip. He looked around, studying everything with an expression of disbelief and utter confusion, “we’re... we’re landed in a hallway?”

You glanced back to the man holding you securely, though you weren’t so sure it was needed when you were stood on solid ground, before looking back down the hallway.

It was a long hallway; you couldn’t even see the end of it. It was beige walls, with lines of white trim leading down along the bottom of the floor. The floor was carpeted, a neat tan that matched perfectly with the beige and white trim. There was a line of circular light fixtures spread about five feet apart, leading down the center of the ceiling, all the way down the hallway as far as you could see.

The walls were lined with large photo frames, they were wooden; a sturdy looking wood, that had been carved to the smallest detail, stained dark brown and completely identical all the way along the hallway.

Everything was completely symmetrical, lining up perfectly with an exact copy on the wall across from it.

The frames were empty, from what you could see where you stood. There was a blank sheet of canvas, or cardstock, or maybe even a blank photograph from a polaroid. None of the frames in your line of sight had anything more than a blank center.

“What is this place?” you question quietly, managing to draw your attention away from the walls and frames before you, to glance back at the Doctor’s attentive eyes sweeping over everything. You couldn’t place any of the emotions crossing the Doctor’s face, it was a flurry of multiple—

“Noh,” the Doctor said softly, more to himself. He took a step back into the TARDIS, pulling you in with him by the grip on your arm. When your feet were back on the solid TARDIS flooring, the Doctor released his grip on you and took another step back, “no, no, no.” He moved quickly back to the console, pulling the screen towards him, “that can’t be right. That’s not... it can’t be right. It’s impossible.”

“What can’t be right?” you asked with a frown, following behind the Doctor. The screen was back to English, but to be fair, you still needed the Doctor to explain things to you. To you, it was all science-y mumbo-jumbo—which was barely a step up from Gallifreyan.

“We’re in orbit still,” the Doctor pointed out on the screen. “The TARDIS is currently in orbit. We’re not... we can’t be landed. That,” he gestured wildly to the open TARDIS doors, “shouldn’t exist, we’re orbiting space, (Y/N), there aren’t corridors and, and photo frames in space.”

The Doctor stepped away from the control panel, letting out a groan-growl as he carded his fingers through his mussed hair roughly, “it’s impossible. We literally aren’t landed on anything. The TARDIS says we’re still moving, that we’re still orbiting.” The Doctor paced back and forth, anxiously, “what’s out there doesn’t exist—shouldn't exist. We’re caught in orbit, on some sort of platform that doesn’t exist. On something that the TARDIS, who recognizes everything, doesn’t recognize.”

“Are you sure the TARDIS is right?” you asked softly, leaning to look out the doors. The Doctor turned to glare at you, opening his mouth to defend his TARDIS, but you continued before he could, “it looks pretty real to me. I was standing out there before, and it was... it was like walking on carpet. Didn’t feel space-y at all.”

“The TARDIS isn’t wrong.” the Doctor scoffed on the time and space machine’s behalf, “the TARDIS has never been wrong. We’re in orbit, (Y/N). We’re stuck in orbit on... on whatever it is out there. I don’t even know what that is.”

“It seems alright to me,” you really had no idea where that came from, “we should look around.”

“You want to look around a strange space platform that the TARDIS says doesn’t even exist?”

“Uhm... yeah?”

“And you’re alright?” the Doctor asked carefully, taking a couple steps towards you. You raised a questioning eyebrow and frowned at him. “You’ve been traveling with me for ages and not once have you been so sure about a planet—about anything like this. You’re hesitant about planets I assure you are completely fine, but now, when I tell you something’s not right, you want to explore?”

“Of course I’m alright,” you scoffed, “I just want to explore a bit, what’s so bad about that? It looks like earth, like some kind of weird earth museum, or something. Besides, don’t you want to see what’s at the end of the hallway?”

The Doctor studied you for a moment, then studied the open doors of the TARDIS for a moment as well, before he looked back at you. He really didn’t like disappointing his companions, and he was always up for an adventure.

The Doctor seemed to be seriously debating it.

“We really should leave, we don’t know this place, or who or what inhabits it,” he huffed, “but I'm intrigued now. You’re right, I do want to see what’s out there. A hallway in the middle of space, orbiting on its own—and not only that, a hallway that drew in the TARDIS. It’s impossible, completely impossible, but brilliant all the same!”

The Doctor paused, seeming to shake himself from his excitement, “are you completely sure you want to go? I have no idea what’s out there, or what’s at the end of the hallway. This is here for a reason; space doesn’t just make random corridors for no reason.”

“I’m sure,” you nodded. “I wanna see if any of those frames have any actual pictures. Maybe there’s like stolen earth museum masterpieces—something by Picasso or Van Gogh or somethin’. There’re so many things that’ve gone missing through the years.”

“Aliens stealing earth things?” the Doctor muttered with a frown, “not unheard of. It’s possible.”

There was a moment where neither of you moved, then the Doctor was moving towards the doors. “Right then,” he cleared his throat, he was looking at you as he marched towards the doors, “you need to stay close to me. I don’t know this place, or planet, or whatever it really is. We’re not staying long, just a quick peek around and then we’re leaving, alright?”

The Doctor paused in the doorway, leaning out, to glance around without stepping out of the TARDIS, despite the fact you’d already stepped out once. He frowned, still uncertain before he stepped out. He reached his hand in, an offering to you, which you moved to grab.

“Sounds good to me,” you smiled, gripping his hand and following him out. The TARDIS doors closed behind the two of you, since the Doctor had stepped out too and no one was inside.

“It looks very earthlike,” you mumbled as the two of you started walking. Slow and hesitant.

“Indeed it does,” the Doctor agreed, “I seriously don’t know what this is, or how it’s doing what it is. Be careful, and stay close.”

“I always am,” you laughed good-naturedly, which drew a small, fond smile from the man.

The two of you walked for a while. The TARDIS could no longer be seen behind you, but the hallway before you were still going. It was a very long hallway. You’d dropped the Doctor’s hand a while ago, in order to walk closer to the frames and gaze inside to see if you could see any differences between them all.

He was doing his own studying, watching everything like the frames would jump out at him, which you could understand given what he’d seen and done in his many years of life. He muttered things to himself, and periodically glanced your direction to keep a tab on you.

It was almost cute how protective the Doctor was of you. How protective he was of his select few companions he’d travel with. The ones he chose out the billions of people on earth.

The Doctor stopped every few frames to bleep them with his sonic screwdriver, but nothing came up. As far as you, the Doctor and the screwdriver knew, they were just ordinary frames. You could almost see the deep, unsettling confusion clouding the Doctor’s eyes.

But, you kept walking, almost as if something was pulling you along. Like you were tethered to something and you just had to find it.

----

The Doctor wasn’t sure what to make of this place. Not when neither his TARDIS or his sonic screwdriver could track or source anything regarding it. It simply shouldn’t exist. Some sort of spurious world that he’d never heard of, or seen.

Something that shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t the right make to even be orbiting like it was, and it certainly shouldn’t have been able to draw the TARDIS in. It was impossible. He couldn’t think of a single way that this could be happening.

The Doctor followed along a few steps behind (Y/N), who continued on without much thought. It was rather odd that (Y/N) was more excited and adventurous about this strange place than the Doctor was. Maybe because she was had a fresh mind, she still hadn’t completely figured out that things in space couldn’t be trusted.

There was a difference between being hesitant to jump right into things, and being critical of things before even thinking about taking a step out. Like earlier, when (Y/N) had stepped right out. The Doctor hadn’t even noticed her doing it, too busy trying to figure things out. As far as he’d known, they’d been stuck orbiting space—she could’ve stepped out into nothing. Nothing but space, because that’s what the TARDIS said they were doing.

The Doctor was far older than (Y/N), hundreds and hundreds of years older. He’d seen so much. He’d been trapped so many times. He’d been left with nothing more times than he could count. He’d put his companions in danger way more than he’d even dare to think about. He’d been around for practically forever at this point, and he knew when to be cautious.

As much as he tried though, he couldn’t figure anything out about this place. It was getting irritating at this point. He was confused, and irritated, and maybe even a bit pissed off that (Y/N) had been so reckless when they’d first arrived.

The man sighed to himself, drawing his hand through his hair again. He dropped his hands down, stuffing them in his trouser pockets as he followed behind his companion. He didn’t even know how long they’d been wondering about the hallway for, and he was about to make the decision that they’d spent enough time here when he heard it.

It was soft, like a whisper.

A collection of soft whispers, faint and unintelligible. Unintelligible, but inviting. Drawing him closer. It was not a language he knew, and the TARDIS hadn’t translated it for him. But he was curious.

Was there something here? Someone else beside him and his companion?

The Doctor’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a moment before he looked up and around. It felt like the whispering was coming from everywhere at once. He took a couple more hurried steps, the whispers growing louder until he turned suddenly. He didn’t remember thinking about turning, it just happened. He wasn’t even sure his brain had commanded the action, but when he looked up, he was met with a picture frame.

This one, unlike the ones across from it, or on either side, had an actual image. It wasn’t a blank frame like the others. And it wasn’t a picture at all. Not really.

It was moving.

It was... more like a television show, than a picture.

He was instantly engrossed in the moving photo.

It was... it was (Y/N). She was in a garden; it was a beautiful garden. There were multiple types of flowers, and it was sunny. It almost made him smile. Her eyes were watering, but she was smiling, holding a bouquet of flowers. She was older than the (Y/N) he was currently with, but it was undeniable that this woman in the photo was his current companion.

She looked good, perfectly fine, but maybe a little sad. He instantly wanted to make her happy again, to jump into the picture and hug her, or give her a kiss on the cheek. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her sad smile.

It wasn’t terribly sad, she still had the same brightness about her, the one that had attracted him to her in the first place, but she looked as if she were reminiscing an event from prior. Maybe a memory from a passed family member, or something. Remembering happy things, but sad that they weren’t around anymore.

He wondered for a moment where he was in this picture. He’d never really thought about leaving her, not really. He wanted to hold onto her for as long as he could, but he could understand if he’d needed to leave her behind for whatever reason. He’d had to do the same for all his companions at one point or another.

The thought of his companions growing old and leaving him made him physically ill, but he knew it was bound to happen eventually. How he’d just regenerate and leave them in the dust—continue on with his life when they were aging and dying like the humans they were. He’d always end up alone in the end, as it had been for hundreds of years.

In the photo, (Y/N) was walking, the flowers cradled in her arms. The path she walked on was days away from being completely overgrown, like it wasn’t travelled much. Where ever she was going, she didn’t go often.

He waited, watching closely until she paused in the photo, her eyebrows furrowing as a tear trailed down her cheek. The Doctor leaned towards the picture, squinting to see what she was seeing. He wanted to reach out and touch it... touch his companion, but he didn’t.

In fact, he took a step back in surprise when his eyes landed on what she was now kneeled in front of, the flowers set on the ground before it.

It was the TARDIS. The blue Public Use Police box parked in that garden. It was covered in overgrown plants, vines reaching up along the paneling of the TARDIS. It didn’t... look much like the TARDIS anymore, old and unused like a real London Telephone box, but to him, it was unmistakably his precious TARDIS.

(Y/N) was sitting now, knees pulled up to her chest, with her arms wrapped securely around them. Her chin rested on the indent between her knees, and her attention was focused on the TARDIS. Her eyes were sad now, much more so than earlier, and she was crying again. Tears falling from her face and dripping down to the ground beneath her.

The Doctor didn’t understand for a moment. His TARDIS was there, obviously had been for a while. But he was nowhere to be seen. (Y/N) was visiting his TARDIS, hidden away in a garden and covered by overgrown plants that would’ve taken years to crawl up the length of his little blue box. He’d abandoned his TARDIS?

Then, it clicked.

He hadn’t abandoned his precious TARDIS intentionally. The answer was literally in this picture; from the overgrown garden, to the TARDIS standing withered and old without him, to the bouquet of flowers placed before his TARDIS, all the way down to the soft tears falling from his companion’s face.

It was all there.

He was dead.

He’d died somehow and left behind his TARDIS, and his companion.

He was dead.

He was strangely accepting of this. His companion outliving him for the first time since he’d first picked up a human to travel with him. It was... a nice change of pace. He wasn’t the last one left anymore. He was... gone.

The last Time-Lord in existence, and he was gone. His whole race put to rest with him. He wasn’t put off by the idea. He almost... liked it. That he wasn’t the one to be losing someone this time. He still felt terrible that his companion was bringing flowers to his, what he assumed was his, resting place with his TARDIS, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad, or upset.

It was almost... freeing. He wanted to touch; to run his fingers across the photo. To place a finger over his companion staring sadly at his TARDIS, or maybe even touch the TARDIS. His hand hovered over the picture, and it almost... rippled like he could just hop right in.

This was a... a desire he hadn’t known he’d had.

The man turned away from the frame abruptly, using all his willpower to draw his hand away and turn away from the picture. He’d almost touched it. Had been close enough to see it ripple. What would’ve happened had he touched the picture?

What would’ve happened had he reached for that desire he’d had hidden within him?

The man whipped out his sonic screwdriver, bleeping the frame he’d just been staring into quickly. For a second, one single second, the screwdriver detected something, but in the next moment, the Doctor was watching the colourful canvas, (Y/N), the garden and the TARDIS included, fade back to the identical blanks surrounding it.

In a matter of seconds, it was like the photo he’d seen hadn’t existed at all. Like he hadn’t been drawn to a desire he hadn’t realized he had.

With the picture gone, the Doctor carefully let his fingertips brush along the surface of what had been that picture. Nothing happened, there was no ripple this time. It was like touching any other sheet of canvas.

It didn’t make sense. It really didn’t make sense. Nothing about this place made any sense.

“We’ve been here long enough,” the Doctor spoke firmly, suddenly afraid of what this place was capable of. He turned to look down the hallway at his companion, “let’s head--” the man froze, “(Y/N)?”

She was gone. The hallway around him was empty. Nothing but blank picture frames. “(Y/N)?” he called louder, in case she’d continued on while he’d been distracted by the picture. The Doctor turned back the way the two of you had been coming, but you weren’t that way either. “(Y/N)!”

He was sprinting down the hallway before he even realized he was. He needed to get to her before anything else got to her. Before she got hurt, or was put in danger. Or worse, before one of the pictures spoke to her like they had to him.

He’d barely been able to draw himself away from the photo, a human wouldn’t stand a chance against it. No human would have the willpower to pull away from a desire like the one he’d been shown. And, as much as he cared for (Y/N), she really was no exception to that fact.

The man ran as fast as he could, passing hundreds of picture frames in just minutes before someone came into view.

Just as he’d feared, (Y/N) was staring into one of the photo frames, mesmerized by whatever was happening. The Doctor barely managed to stop himself from running into her, as he reached hurriedly for her arms and tried to pull her away from the picture.

To him, it was blank. It looked no different to any of the other canvases on the walls. He bleeped the canvas with his screwdriver when you barely budged, and to his surprise, he was getting all kinds of feedback from it this time. Something more than a simple photo frame was hung on this wall, and it was quickly drawing his companion in as it had to him.

He bleeped you as well, frowning thoughtfully at the reading it got off your head.

“(Y/N),” the Doctor pleaded, taking your hands into his own, “I know it looks ideal, whatever it is you’re seeing, but it’s not real. Please, come back to me, whatever you’re seeing, it’s not there. It doesn’t exist. Don’t touch it, alright? Don’t touch, it’s not safe.”

You made no movements, but you still didn’t draw your attention from the photo. The Doctor chewed his bottom lip, thoughts flying faster and more anxiously than he was sure they ever had. He had to do something. He wasn’t sure what would happen if you touched the picture you were seeing, but he wasn’t about to find out.

With no other way around it, the man pushed you back carefully, just enough so that he could come between you and the canvas. You didn’t react, eyes wide and unseeing, but so focused on the blank canvas in front of you. The Doctor reached up to cradle your jaw in his hands for a moment, thumbs brushing along your cheeks.

You moved to look around him, back at the picture, to which he gently tightened his hold and directed your gaze back onto him. You didn’t move again after being corrected.

He drew in a breath, pulling his hands back for a second to see if you’d move (you didn’t) before he lifted his hands and settled his fingertips to your temples. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on accessing you mind. He couldn’t see what you could looking at the picture, but he could through your eyes.

----

You’d lost the Doctor somewhere along the hallway. He’d stopped and... even if you’d wanted to stop and see where he’d gone, or perhaps even wait for him, something inside you directed you along.

The whispered were calling to you. They’d started a while back, and you’d been following them. You didn’t understand them, but they were inviting. They were calling you over, trying to show you something.

You followed them, step after step, going exactly where the whispers directed you. Or, maybe you were following they’re volume, since you couldn’t really understand them.

Everything went quiet suddenly. You glanced around the hallway, before your eyes caught sight of a splash of colour. One of the frames had an actual picture in it.

You reached up to rub your eyes, in case you were seeing something, since it had been nothing but whites and browns all the way down the hallway, and now suddenly there was this one single picture with colours.

When you blinked again, the colours were still there. You stepped towards the picture—it was like nothing you’d ever seen before. But... at the same time it was familiar.

It really wasn’t anything special, a small house with a white picket fence surrounding the property. There houses on either side, ordinary and uniform, but each with personality. A cute little neighborhood.

The closer you looked, the more you could make out. The small windows on the house were full, detailed beyond imagination. But all of them... there was a little you in there.

One of the windows featured you with a pet—a cat or a dog, you couldn’t really make it. Possibly even a rodent, or a reptile, or something else along the lines. It was hard to see, but you could tell you adored whatever it was.

Another featured you with small children, possibly your own children, but you couldn’t be sure. They were cute, playing on the floor with you, showing you objects and giggling. You’d never really thought much about kids, but it was weird seeing some in the perfect little house the picture had.

One of the other windows was dimly lit, a living room or something in the late hours of the evening. You were cuddled up with someone, a significant other, on the couch, both watching a film, talking and laughing.

The last window housed you, and your friends and family all sitting together and laughing. The friends and family you had barely even spoken to since meeting the Doctor. The ones who left messages on your answering machine, and invited you out, despite not knowing you were adventuring in Outerspace with a literally alien.

They were all so domestic. So ordinary. It was... normal life. You assumed each window was a different representation of something. A pet, wanting children, a perfect significant other, and to be closer to those you love. It was cute, a cute concept.

You didn’t see the Doctor though. He was nowhere to be seen. He, and the TARDIS. Not so much as a glance at the Doctor.

The picture changed in the blink of an eye, and you were walking. In the picture. A different scene, the house was gone, and it was just you. You were just... walking down the street. And it looked nice. A relaxing walk. Nothing like exploring an alien planet with the Doctor, but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.

You passed a blue police box, and barely batted an eyelash. You strolled passed a man sitting on a bench, which, when you looked closer, realized was the Doctor. He made no effort to speak to you, and you breezed right by him like you’d never even met him.

And... maybe you hadn’t in whatever this picture was showing you. It was hard to imagine never meeting the Doctor, and never seeing the things you’d seen in your travels. But this imagery the picture was supplying... it made it easier to think like that, not that it was really possible.

Everything the picture showed you was normal. Ordinary. It was relaxing. You could just... go for a stroll at any point, or get in the car and visit your friends, or your parents. You could step out of your door without being afraid.

There were no aliens, or potential death threats, or kidnappings, or strange creatures trying to get you, or to chase you around. You weren’t a part in trying to destroy the universe (unfortunate timing really), and you also weren’t a piece to the solution to said problems. You were just there, one of the regular people down on earth.

You weren’t afraid for your life, or for the Doctor’s life on some strange planet... it was just earth. Normal earth, with normal people and normal activities. Normal everything.

You’d never met the Doctor in these... whatever they were. Possible futures? Alternate universes?

You’d never met him and... your life was normal. You lived a regular life, like everyone else. You weren’t one of the special few the Doctor selected to travel with him and... that didn’t bother you.

It felt kind of nice actually, to be normal. To not be following the Doctor around on strange planets like a puppy, or to not be fearing for your life in a TARDIS crash landing. As much as you liked the Doctor, and your travels, you wouldn’t be disappointed or upset if... well, if none of it happened. If you’d never met the Doctor at all...

Your life looked like it would’ve been good, great even. Normal. Ordinary. Black and white. Vanilla.

You’d been in some dangerous situations, had actually thought yourself dead on a couple of occasions. You relied heavily on the Doctor to keep you safe. It was a lot. All of it was. And... it would be nice to have it be calm. The calm after a storm.

The whispering was back suddenly, louder than ever and urging you to reach up and touch the picture. It was promising things—a perfect life, a family, or a pet, anything your heart desired. It was promising to take away the pain of your traumas, and wipe your mind from all that caused you harm... the Doctor included.

And you... you couldn’t help but reach up to touch the picture.

It all sounded wonderful. Ideal, and perfect. A second chance without having to miss the Doctor because, well, you never would’ve met him in this timeline.

Your hand was hovering by the picture, rippling what you’d thought was a canvas. The whispers were growing louder, urging and begging you to touch. You wanted what it was offering. Something deep inside you wanted to touch the picture, and get the life it had showed you.

Your fingers got closer, and your mind started getting fuzzy and--

And everything stopped.

Your hand froze in place and the Doctor’s face came into view. He was blocking the picture; all you could see was his face. And... you could feel his fingers on your face, gentle and careful. The whispers were getting softer, further away.

“Please,” you heard. It was the Doctor, you thought. You knew his voice. He was pleading, voice tight and nervous, something you’d never heard before. “You can’t go, not yet. Please, it’s not real, (Y/N). You need to come back to me.”

You wanted to tell the Doctor that it looked pretty real to you. That you were so close to forgetting it all, and being normal. So close to a quiet life, without the hassle of a space and time machine, and a regenerating alien.

“I know,” the Doctor interrupted your thoughts as if he’d heard you. His voice was soft, maybe even hurt, “I know it seems perfect, but it’s not real, (Y/N). You need to snap out of it. You’re giving it what it wants, you’re feeding into it... You can’t. Don’t touch it, focus on me, alright? Focus here.”

You focused on the Doctor, on his soft pleads and appraisal. The whispers faded off to nothing and the colours behind the Doctor started fading away too, taking your quiet life away with them.

It was a sharp shock that really woke you up though. You blinked your eyes shut, an intense stinging from them being open for so long. You fell forwards, your body finally relaxing after being lured away. You never hit the ground though, you fell right into the Doctor, who caught you and held you close. “You’ve done it,” he whispered, “good job, (Y/N).”

“What... what happened?” you asked carefully. You remembered it clearly. The want to be taken away. The need for a normal and quiet life without the Doctor. The pull the canvas had to it. Even the ripping in the supposed canvas. “I almost fell in a canvas.”

The Doctor gave a laugh, not nearly as bright as it usually was. His eyes were sad, and he was holding you longer than he usually did when the two of you escaped danger. “You resisted,” the Doctor replied quietly, “I’m quite proud of you, that’s no easy feat.”

“The picture was luring me in,” you blinked, “what even was that?”

“It... it showed you your deepest desire. One you... may not have known you had—or maybe you did. Whatever it was, was feeding off the dopamine in your subconscious with seeing the desire fulfilled.”

Deepest desire. A quiet life was your deepest desire. Your life without the Doctor was your deepest desire. You felt terrible that that’s what you subconsciously wanted, even though you hadn’t known it.

“Did you see it too?” You asked calmly, looking back at the now blank frame. It was completely gone. No trace left behind of your deepest desire.

The Doctor hesitated for a second. A second longer than he usually did, “no,” he looked down, “I didn’t. It was just a white canvas for me. Only you can see your deepest desire, it’s just a blank canvas for everyone else.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, believing the Doctor’s words, but not really believing him. It sounded completely logical, but Time-Lords were incredible creatures, and you really had no idea whether or not he could actually see. You wished he couldn’t, that he hadn’t seen. You truly do love traveling with the Doctor... it just gets overwhelming at times. And... everyone wishes for a quiet life at some point, right?

“Let’s... let’s get back to the TARDIS. I think this has been enough excitement for the day, eh?”

The walk back was quiet, no whispering, or speaking. The frames on the walls did nothing. All uniform and identical just as when you’d come in. The TARDIS was further back than you remembered, but when you got to her, the Doctor ushered you in quickly.

You were taking off before you really knew what was happening.

“Do you think... all those frames had someone’s deepest desire in them?” you asked from where you were stood beside the console. The Doctor gave a shrug, pushing some buttons. He’d been quiet. Quieter than you could ever remember him being.

“It’s possible,” he answered shortly. “I’d assume yes though. Curious travelers like us are the perfect target for something like this.”

“Oh,” you frowned, “what would’ve... what would’ve happened if you touched the picture?”

The Doctor finally looked over at you, eyes sad, and lips curved down in a frown, “I think it would’ve absorbed you and given you what it promised. It would’ve fed off the dopamine being created like it had been doing, and it would’ve kept you happy in your desire.”

“I’m glad you got me out then,” you replied, looking down at your feet.

“Are you?” the Doctor asked without looking up from the console. You were sure he was purposely trying not to look at you. He was hurt. Now, without the lure of the picture, you could tell. He was sad, and hurting.

You frowned, thinking of something to say. You really didn’t believe he hadn’t seen your desire. Not with the whole kicked puppy look. He’d obviously seen something, and it hurt you that you made him feel like this.

“Did you hear the whispers?”

“I did.” He gave a nod, still not really looking up from the console. You were flying again, away from this orbital pull, “I saw my desire, but I was able to pull myself out of it.”

“What was your desire?” You asked quietly.

The doctor turned to you with a sad smile, “it wasn’t important,” he brushed off.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down to hide his frown, and when he looked up once more, all traces of emotions were gone. All the sadness, all the fear. His frown replaced by a bright grin.

“Right then!” He chirped like the two of you hadn’t almost been lured into alien picture frames, “how about a visit to earth, huh? We can... let’s go meet your friends!”

<><><><><>

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and please feel free to leave me prompts! They’re very welcome, and very appreciated!

#Tenth Doctor #doctor who #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #reader insert #TARDIS #angst #sad #david tennant #doctor who 2005 #prompt #fanfic #fanfiction

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mr-geraskier · 3 years

Note

"Can I be him (acoustic live version)" by James Arthur is a modern AU where Geralt pines over singer!Jaskier.

Hi, Anon this is like a year late and there is no excuse. I was really in the writing mood and remembers this prompt I had saved in my ask.

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

“You walked into the room and now my heart’s been stolen.”

Geralt by force was taken to a nearby bar with his friend Yennefer. She had said that he needs to get his ass out of the house and find more friends.

After Geralt has a dream 2 months ago he’s been seeing dreams of a fantasy land where he was a warrior of some sort. He mostly remembers the guy that always stuck with him in his dreams. He couldn’t remember a name but he remembers his bright, big, blue eyes. Every night in his dream they would adventure greats lands and fight beasts. He would never tell Yennefer this but in his dreams, this man wasn’t just a buddy or a friend. It felt more than that, like love in a strange way. Now though every morning he wakes up he is faced with the real world where he has an average job as a college professor, no magical abilities, and no strange blue-eyed man. His hearts nearly breaks every time he wakes up without him. It seems as if Geralt falls in love with the young man every time he dreams of him. For the 2 months, he has dreamt of these dreams he has become more and more distant from the world. All he does is work and go home to fall back asleep and see the man.

Now because of his bad habits, he is at the bar already with a couple of shots of whiskey and a beer bottle. He looks around the room, already anxious surrounded by all of these strangers.

“Come on Geralt! Lighten up a bit. You’ve been locked in your house for days without talking to anyone. We practically thought you were dead! It’s about time you find something to do with yourself. “ Yennefer pushes Geralt’s shoulder and smiles at him.

Geralt glances at his friend and rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the concern but I feel perfectly fine by myself in my house. I like it.” He turns away from her and suddenly an announcer comes to the stage and gets everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! May I introduce Julian Alfred Pankratz as our first live performer of the night.” The announcer says into the microphone and walks off stage.

A curtain is pulled back as a young man in a red shirt and blue jeans walks on stage. He slowly steps to the microphone and smiles at the crowd.

Geralt’s heart stops beating as he notices the man on stage. His face, his eyes, and his name…

“You took me back in time to when I was unbroken.”

Julian takes his seat on a stool and adjust his guitar on his lap. He takes a deep breath and the words flood out of him like sweet honey.

Geralt relaxes as he sees flashes of memories from his dreams of him and Julian traveling the lands, talking, laughing, singing, and just loving one another.

He sits mesmerized by the beautiful melody the man was playing. Geralt’s eyes scan Julian as he takes in all his features. His real-life features.

“Now you’re all I want and I knew it from the very first moment. Cause a light came on when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again.”

Julian sings about a person that he loves and adores in his life. How they are meant to be and stay together forever. He whispers and belts out lyrics that Geralt can feel are for him.

“I swear that every word you sing you wrote them for me.”

Geralt closes his eyes and sways slightly in his chair, possibly tipsy. He smiles as he imagines both Julian and him alone in a forest.

“Like it was a private show but I know you never saw me.”

Geralt opens his eyes from the realization that Julian isn’t just here for him. He’s here to perform for an audience. He knows Julian doesn’t even know he exists.

“When the lights come on and I’m on my own will you be there to sing it again?”

Julian sings about him and his lover traveling the world and trying new things together. Geralt feels a small spot of hope inside of him that maybe Julian is talking about Geralt’s dreams.

“Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?”

Julian mentions times when he and his lover moved in with each other and how he got engaged to them. Their wedding had family and friends all around with beautiful flowers of all colors and the most beautiful music Julian had ever heard.

Of course, Geralt would have to disagree with him because right now at this moment Geralt has never heard or seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Can I be him?”

Julian ends the song and stands up to a bunch of applause from the people in the bar. Geralt is basically woken up from his trance by Yennefer snapping her fingers in his face. “Wasn’t that good Geralt? Someday he’s gonna be a professional singing up on the big stage. I just know it. Don’t you think so?” Yennefer glances at Geralt and notices his eyes, blown from love.

“Yeah, I think he will do great. He’s beautiful.” Geralt doesn’t turn away from the young man on stage as Julian collects his belongings.

Yennefer starts to giggle beside Geralt causing him to finally turn. “What?” Geralt asks.

Yennefer continues to laugh in her chair. “What is it Yen? Why are you laughing?”

“Geralt you are such a lover boy. You literally have the biggest heart eyes I have ever seen a person have.

Geralt turns away, cheeks bright red, and grunts at her.

“Oh come on Geralt! I don’t mean to make fun of you! I just think it’s really cute.” Yennefer places her hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “Come with me to the bar, I want another beer.”

Even though Geralt is slightly annoyed by his friend he still follows her to the bar.

“Excuse me, sir, could I ask you a question?” Geralt feels someone touch his shoulder and he turns around to Julian himself. All rational thoughts leave his head as he stares down at the young man. His eyes are bluer than he initially thought.

“Sorry for sounding creepy but I noticed you in the crowd and you seemed like you like my music,” Julian says, a small blush from nervousness covers his cheeks. He puts his hand behind his head. “And well I guess I just wanted to ask if you really did think my music was good.”

Geralt fights himself to finally say something. “Yeah, it was beautiful.”

Julian looks almost shocked by the answer causing Geralt to panic.

“Sorry, that sounded weird. I mean yes it was really good. So good that I would like to hear you sing it again sometime.” Geralt’s blush of course makes it harder for him to act serious and he fidgets as he waits for Julian to speak.

“No, it’s not weird at all! I was so scared everyone was faking it or something. Growing up I was told my singing was a waste and people wouldn’t like it but you… thank you. You just boost my confidence so high!” Julian was smiling from ear to ear now. He widens his eyes and slaps his forehead with his hand. “Oh my gosh, how could I forget. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Julian but you can call me Jaskier. You probably already knew my name though, didn’t you? Shoot sorry.” He nervously laughs and smiles up at Geralt.

“Hi, it is very nice to meet you Jaskier. I’m Geralt.”

Geralt knows that this is his Jaskier from his dreams and he intends to not lose him again.

#jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #ask me literally anything #send me asks #witcher au

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years

Text

Darkstache - Seeing the Truth

A follow-on from the prompt where Wilford discovered Dark was colourblind. He’s determined to help Dark experience the beauty that is colour.

Word Count: 1,565

If there was one thing every single ego working in the studio could agree on, it was that Wilford was not the smartest of the bunch. He struggled with reading, had difficulties keeping track of time, had an unreliable memory on bad days, among other things. Which was why there was surprise when it was discovered Wiford was undertaking heavy research. Sitting at the desk in his dressing-room-studio, the reporter was immersed in work on his laptop. There was a notebook beside him where he attempted to write legible notes. Several drinking glasses had been conjured and emptied so he could work without the distraction of moving. Another notebook was open and drying on the radiator after some water spilled on it.

But if anyone walked in with the intention to see what he was doing, they were blocked by an invisible bubble. To Dark’s frustration, it included him.

“You know you can’t work on anything without telling me about it. As the company’s lawyer, I need to make sure what you’re doing keeps you out of legal trouble.” Dark folded his arms with an irritated expression. In response, Wilford pulled himself onto his feet, sauntered across the room, and slipped through the bubble barrier to take Dark’s hands in his own.

“Yeah, buuut Google told me that’s only if I’m workin’ on somethin’ fer th’ studio. This is a personal project that I want perfect before I tell anyone!” A seemingly simple answer had alarm bells ringing in Dark’s mind. Wilford always put his brainstorming on display for others. Why was he being so secretive? He tried to pull his hands away, but the reporter’s grip was too tight. “Ya gotta trust me, sugarplum. I’ve been workin’ hard like a little bee in here. Just gimme a little longer an’ I’ll show ya everythin’.”

“Will this be before or after you cause whatever trouble you’re planning?”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout causin’ trouble?” Wilford was hurt by that, though he was quick to shake it off. “When it’s ready, yer th’ first person I wanna show. Promise.” He kissed Dark on the cheek and added, “Yer still free after work, right?”

When the other egos and regular staff had called it a day, Dark returned to Wilford’s empty office. To his surprise, the barrier bubble was gone, but the desk space had been cleared. There was no evidence he could see that might tell him what Wilford was up to. Wilford had actually remembered to shut down the laptop for once. This was certainly an unusual setting for the reporter who was terrible with technology. There had to be a clue somewhere that he wasn’t seeing!

“Babe!” Wilford’s voice made Dark jump. He spun around to notice Wilford had changed clothes to wear a faint blue (maybe) shirt, black trousers and white suspenders (he could tell those colours easily). “Thought I’d catch ya before ya left yer office. Ya ready ta go?” Dark nodded, crossing the room to take Wilford’s free hand.

“A basket?”

“Well, yeah! Can’t have ya gettin’ cold on me, eh? We got a great evenin’ planned an’ I want ya ta be cosy!”

The car pulled up at their normal viewing spot outside the city. Dark tried to weasel information out of Wilford, but the reporter was unusually tight-lipped. All he could learn was that the pair were sky-gazing. As much as Dark liked spending time with Wilford, he couldn’t help but feel Wilford forgot that Dark couldn’t enjoy seeing the day sky in the same way. Surely he wouldn’t need to ruin the night by having this conversation a second time, right? Stuck with indecision on what to do, Dark didn’t notice how Wilford sat on the picnic blanket and began pulling things out of the basket at first. A little vase of flowers, a notebook, some juggling balls, a small balloon, a black case…

“Wilford… What are you doing with all this stuff?” Before Dark could sit, Wilford quickly scrambled back onto his feet.

“No, no! Not yet. Tonight’s a special night. Gonna be one of th’ prettiest views an’ I don’t wantcha missin’ it ‘cause yer askin’ why I have so many things with me.” Wilford wagged a finger playfully at Dark. A graceful bend allowed him to scoop up the black case and hand it to Dark. “A present fer my beautiful shadow.” Dark accepted the case, clicked it open, and frowned.

“... Sunglasses. At 8pm?”

“Well, yeah! There’s gonna be some big bright flashy thing of some sort tonight. Bing was ravin’ ‘bout it. I’m surprised ya didn’t hear ‘bout it!” Wilford had whipped out a pair of sunglasses and rested them in his messy curls. “Go on! Try ‘em on. Betcha look real handsome with ‘em~”

Something wasn’t right, but Dark couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Wilford was acting peculiar, like he was trying to distract the entity from something. Google never mentioned anything about events taking place in the sky. With all the random objects scattered at his feet, it could be Wilford’s way to pull attention away from some crime he had committed while out. That’s why he changed clothes, it had to be! Even with those worries in his head, Wilford looked genuinely excited. Dark never wore sunglasses, but maybe he could humour Wilford and play along.

The glasses were put on.

The world exploded in a way he never could have predicted.

What was originally a murky mesh of blue, yellow, and grey had now become so much more. Everything was brighter, vivid, alive! He quickly lifted the glasses to see the world as he was used to, then dropped the glasses back down to see this new world. It was the glasses. The glasses were somehow letting him see colour in a way he never could have imagined and couldn’t possibly explain. The colours seemed to shift a little the longer he wore them, possibly as his eyes adjusted to it, allowing him to see so much more. A hand covered his mouth as emotions welled up inside him. Never did he think he would ever see something like this in his entire life.

“Ya doin’ okay?” Wilford’s hand gently squeezed his shoulder. Dark nodded.

“I… I’ve never seen colour like this before. It’s beautiful… I thought you brought me here because you forgot.”

“Nah. I wrote it down when ya told me. This is what I’ve been workin’ on all week that no one knew ‘bout. I wanted ta help ya see colour. These glasses were th’ best way ta do that. Bet it must be weird fer ya.”

“I never would have guessed how many types of green there are. It all looked the same, but the leaves on the trees and the grass all look so different…” He turned to face Wilford, only to trail off as he took in the sight of his boyfriend in full colour for the first time. He was wearing a purple shirt, not a blue one! Wilford could see the emotion in Dark’s eyes through the tinted lenses as the entity’s hand reached up to Wilford’s face. “... Is that pink? Your moustache… It’s brighter than I could have imagined.” Tears finally slipped underneath the glasses as he laughed. “It’s perfect for you. I can’t stop smiling as I look at it. Oh! I never even realised it was in your hair either! I thought your hair was all one shade!” Fingers looped strands of pink locks to examine them better. “I knew I was right to think of you when I tried to imagine what ‘pink’ looked like.”

“Ya can admire me an’ my pretty pink all ya like later…. But turn ‘round again. I think y’ll like what yer ‘bout ta see.” Wilford kissed Dark on the nose before encouraging the entity to spin back the way he was originally facing.

There, in all its majestic glory behind them, was a sunset. With the distraction of the glasses, enough time had passed for the sun to dip low enough below the horizon. Dark slipped an arm around Wilford’s waist and held on tightly as he took in every inch of the evening sky.

“I knew it was yellow, I knew it was blue, but all the colours in between… No wonder you were always so excited to look at sunsets. I could stare at this all night if I could. I’m seeing colours I never knew existed before. It’s perfect.”

“I thought y’d say that. I try ta keep a diary ta help me remember things so I thought, ‘why not do th’ same fer you’?” A spiral-bound notebook was passed to Dark, open on a page that had coloured squares labelled. “I made ya a little chart so y’d know what colours are what.” A simple gesture had the emotions bubbling over all over again as Dark hugged Wilford tight.

The pair would sit in silence and enjoy the full beauty of the sunset. Wrapped in a purple and white blanket, Dark was given all the time to process what he was seeing. Later, the pair would use the notebook to show Wilford what Dark could now see in the random assortment of items that dotted the blanket as they undertook a masterclass of colour.. But for the moment, seeing the beauty of a colourful world took priority.

---

Note: For those who might be curious, I highly recommend checking out EnChroma, who do indeed make glasses to help those who are colourblind. There are plenty of video reactions to people wearing them for the first time if ever you need to rediscover your appreciation of colour.

#darkstache #writersofmark #Darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #fluff #(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#Cracked Mirror (Dark)#Rose Petals (Wilford)#(my Wilford will always try to do what he can if he can make his beloved smile. Trust me on this)#personal fave #dark is colourblind

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

So yeah, I love Logan’s playlist to bits, especially Streaks. And I noticed that in Are There Healthy Distractions, Logan doesn’t help with the story, despite commenting on the inaccuracies of Frozen and encouraging the others to help fix them. I’ve never written a songfic before, so apologies if the lyrics seem disjointed or random. I did try listening to Streaks on repeat as I wrote this, so that might have helped a bit.

Anyway. Have some Logan angst. And yes, this is very long. I couldn’t write drabbles if my life depended on it.

Word count: 3986

Warnings: some insecurity, blood mentions, and a bit of sexual innuendo from Remus

I’m always open to prompts! You can find this story on Ao3 here.

Seven years old with a brand-new coloring book Every page with the perfect design You can decide on the colors that you like As long as you stay in the lines

When they were little, the Sides wrote stories together.

It was before Dark and Light sides, before the Split, before anyone was old enough to wonder why they were spending afternoons on the carpet thinking up stories. King always started the stories. Anxiety pulled the story into darker areas and came up with the best villains. Morality made sure the hero was a nice hero and that there was always a happy ending. Deceit assisted with making it believable.

And when they wrote their way into a corner, or forgot how their fantasy world worked, or needed an explanation of how frogs were born, Logic stepped in.

Those stories were the best. Thomas filled notebooks with them. They were slapdash and strange and included sentences like “and then the dragon attacked and breathed fire and it was really hot fire” and “but that wasn’t nice so the hero apologized” and “it was happily ever after except then a witch turned him into a frog.” They weren’t great stories, probably not even good. But they were Thomas’, which made them special.

As long as the story followed three rules, it was a story.

It needed a hero. It needed a villain. And it needed an old man with a beard to tell the hero how to be a better hero. Those were the rules. Logic came up with those rules. Even at age seven, he knew how the world worked. He knew rules made people take you seriously.

Of course, sometimes the hero was a carrot and the villain was broccoli and the old man with a beard didn’t actually have a beard, but by and large, they followed the rules.

When the rules leaked off the page, things got bad.

The Split came. There was a hero. There was a villain. There was Morality, trying his best to shove everyone into boxes. If that’s how it worked in stories, that’s how it should work in real life, right?

Logic got to be good. He was never sure if he liked that.

They didn’t tell stories together anymore.

They didn’t do anything together.

Thomas grew.

Tell me what did you learn at school today Did they show you what you're worth in numbers and signs You can read every word, you can solve every equation a hundred times Just to wonder what comes next, oh

Roman wrote stories sometimes.

He’d read them aloud at the dinner table. They were fantastical but not bad, though Logan never told him that. Patton complimented him but always reigned himself in from adding on. Maybe he remembered the damage those stories did. Maybe it was to stop himself from sounding like he was critiquing Roman’s work. Roman took his stories seriously. They meant the world to him, and he would labor for days to get them sounding just right.

It was ironic, perhaps, for Logan to wish for him to take them less seriously. But Roman was different than Logan. Roman wasn’t meant to strive for perfection or hone away at words until he was pulling all-nighters and tossing stories in the trash. He was meant to unwind them slowly on a lazy summer afternoon, adding whatever characters he wanted, his passion for storytelling tying every disparate element together.

But Roman was older. And Roman had rules now, for the stories. 1, it has to have a happy ending. 2, it had to be dramatic as possible. 3, it needed to be perfect.

And 4, an unspoken rule, was that he needed to write them alone.

If Roman accepted help, Logan eventually figured out, Roman felt like a failure. So he burned himself to the wick trying to make the story work.

But he couldn’t, not always. Not completely. Not without Patton and Virgil and Remus and Janus. Even Logan could tell that he needed the others. The stories might be technically flawless, the writing polished, but it didn’t have the same heart.

Ugh. Feelings. The bane of Logan’s existence.

It didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t his issue. He was Logic—he had no place for flights of fancy. Roman could write stories, but he couldn’t. That was just the way things were.

Logan focused on school. He learned to multiply and divide. He guided Thomas through countless late nights and filled his mind with knowledge. That was his job, and he did it will. Thomas was clever. Intelligent. Smart. All the things the teachers called him. Others called him a nerd, but neither Logan nor Thomas minded.

Thomas was going to be a chemical engineer.

There was no need to worry about stories now. Flights of fancy were childish and immature.

When he told Roman that, in a fit of anger, Roman didn’t speak to him for a week. Even when they did speak again, it was never the same. Logan wished he could explain how he felt—how he simultaneously wished for Roman to grow up and for him to stop growing up. To be more serious and yet more carefree. These competing urges made no sense to Logan. He knew that he should try to ignore Roman’s creative pursuits.

But he couldn’t help but listen every time Roman told a story.

And he couldn’t help but wonder…after Thomas gets his degree, after school is over…what then? Maybe Thomas would start an acting career or something Roman wanted. What then?

Logan was numbers and logic and grades. Without that, what was he?

He didn’t know, and that terrified him.

Thomas grew.

All these years of filling out papers Building a future, keeping your head down Tryin' to keep a head on your shoulders, keep it creative, Make it your own somehow

It was Virgil who started helping Roman again.

They worked so well when they were younger. Virgil loved other worlds where things made more sense. He also had a knack for plot twists and redemption arcs. But after Anxiety became the antagonist, Roman seemed to forget their days of writing stories.

Only after the Moving On video, where Thomas commented on their shared past, did things change.

It was small at first. Virgil started listening more intently to Roman’s stories, and after a few weeks, commented. Just short sentences, small things. “Nice phrasing” or “cool idea” or “oh, hell yeah.” Roman always smiled when he heard Virgil’s feedback.

Then, one morning, Virgil asked whether Roman could have the villain from a previous story help the character in his next one.

It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t even a suggestion. It was a question, hesitant and unsure. Logan noticed Virgil chewing on his lip and how he immediately tried to qualify the request, saying “’cause you said you needed a sidekick and it could contrast with the hero’s personality and I think it’d be cool and yeah.” Roman liked the idea.

And soon Virgil and Roman could be found tangled on the ground together, running ideas past each other at the figurative speed of light, notebooks surrounding them with red and purple pen scrawled on each page. They’d get wrapped up in stories. Patton would call them for dinner, and they wouldn’t hear.

Patton joined, eventually. He’d butt in when the story grew too dark or sad, saying “Why don’t you lighten things up?” or “Maybe he could apologize before they keep going, he was kind of rude.” His humor brightened the stories, balanced out the dramatic elements, and kept them on track to a happy ending.

Perhaps it was naïve of Patton to only accept happy endings, when the world was fully soaked in shades of gray and good things didn’t always happen to good people. But Logan couldn’t find it in himself to chide him. Of course Patton would want fairy tales to make more sense than reality. Virgil had been accepted. Deceit and the others lurked on the edge of their world. Things were on the cusp of changing—Logan could almost taste the danger in the air. Everyone was waiting for the figurative hammer to fall.

They still wrote stories of heroes and villains. The villains often got accepted and changed their ways, courtesy of Virgil, but it was still black-and-white, good-and-bad, dark-and-light.

Logan understood it would always be like that.

And he understood he had no place in their make-believe. Thomas was an actor now, making videos online, but Logic still maintained order. He kept the figurative stage working so the others could perform.

He did not perform with them. He did not write stories with them, unspooling plot on hot afternoons with Roman flopped on the couch and Virgil lying on the floor and Patton making lemonade in the kitchen. He stayed in his room and perfected Thomas’ schedule. It was not his job to be creative.

If he smiled seeing them so happy, he kept his smiles to himself.

If he sometimes thought of endings to their stories, or built upon the worlds they created, or fleshed out a backstory, those words stayed in his head.

He wouldn’t make their stories his own. He wouldn’t ruin the one thing that kept them carefree and unconcerned with reality.

Logan was not that selfish.

Cause it's all a piece of the plan It's something you'll understand When you're older

The Others liked to tell stories.

Remus was no surprise. He was the other half of Creativity, after all. And yes, his stories did often swerve in R-rated directions that made Patton flush and Roman wince. But he had a knack for language and rhyme. Fun turns of phrase were his favorite. Besides, Logan did have to admit that ‘bad’ or ‘forbidden’ creativity was sometimes necessary for a story to have a real punch.

It took a while for Roman to accept that, though. Even after the Others started living in the common room and popping in for breakfast and were no longer the Dark Sides but Janus and Remus, Roman still kept his stories to himself. Patton and Virgil, seemingly feeling guilty about siding with Roman on the matter, stopped having story sessions altogether. It was like Thomas’ teenage years all over again.

Logan missed seeing them brainstorm together, talking over each other in their excitement, Roman running around and acting out scenes while Virgil mused to himself and Patton squealed at every new plot point.

Fortunately, the silence didn’t last long. One morning while the new family was having an awkward cereal breakfast, Roman blurted out “Hansel and Gretel except the witch has a daughter and it’s from her perspective.”

Logan was used to this. Roman often thought of ideas on the fly. He’d usually scribble some keywords on a napkin or the back of his hand. Sometimes that was enough to remember the idea later. Sometimes it wasn’t, and Roman would whine endlessly when he lost an idea.

But this time, before Roman could apologize or write it down or even explain to a very confused Janus, Remus added “Yeah, and she and Gretel are doing it. Lesbian love.”

Roman froze for a second, staring at Remus, who continued to slurp his cereal as if nothing had happened. The entire table was quiet, waiting for Roman’s reaction. Logan prepared for Roman to shut down the idea, or leave the table, or make fun of Remus.

“Good idea,” Roman said.

It was Remus’ turn to freeze in place.

“That’s good,” Roman said again. “And she could teach Gretel magic, too.”

A slow grin made its way across Remus’s face. “Yeah, she learns all sorts of cool stuff. But she loses her temper with her brother—”

“—and turns him into a gingerbread,” Roman continued, “and doesn’t know how to turn him back. And the witch can’t find out or she’ll be furious with her daughter—”

“So to get the counterspell, she sneaks around to get the witch’s book, but she gets caught—”

“—but her girlfriend saves her, of course!”

Remus grinned wider. “Except now they’re stuck in the witch’s house, and she knows they care about each other, so she can use them against each other!”

“Oh, no.” Roman’s worry was at odds with the way his eyes twinkled. “Guess they’ll have to plan a sneaky escape, then. Good thing they know magic and outnumber the witch!”

“Except,” Remus fired back, “they’re really new to magic and still don’t have it under control yet, plus they’d have to leave Hansel behind as a gingerbread—”

“Gretel’s girlfriend wants to leave and come back for Hansel, but Gretel is worried about her brother and decides to—”

Roman and Remus were glowing, practically, eyes wide with excitement. They gestured wildly as they spoke, identical smiles on their faces. Only when Janus coughed delicately did they stop and turn around, seeming to remember other people were there. They shifted awkwardly, the moment broken, and returned to their cereal.

But that day onward, storytelling sessions were once again part of life.

With two more people in the living room, two more voices, and the stories grew into something entirely new.

The day they leave and it's all before your feet You've heard all the tips and the tricks So you hum to a tune singing you'll figure it out soon You're a smart kid, tough kid, but you're still a kid that grew

Logan had been asked, once twice and more, to join their stories.

Their sessions were more complex now. They played games sometimes, or held contests. Sometimes they worked on the same story, trading sentences or paragraphs or simply shouting out ideas as Roman and Remus scribbled them down. Other times they worked in smaller groups or pairs, even on their own. Karaoke nights were replaced, sometimes, with story nights. They told ghost stories, love stories, action stories, anything that came to mind. They had games where they had to guess who wrote what story. They had games with rules for each story—tell a story in ten sentences, five sentences, three. Eventually Roman created a Rita Skeeter-style moving quill that captured every word of the sessions. They filled notebooks upon notebooks with ideas and stories and life.

Logan read through those notebooks sometimes. When he was bored or nostalgic or simply having an inadequate day. For whatever illogical reason, seeing the scratchy handwriting as the quill struggled to keep up with their words always made him smile. Even if the words themselves were not always of top quality, there were some wonderful stories in there.

Roman wrote the dramatic stories, tales of princes and dragons and fair maidens in distress. Sometimes it was maidens and dragons and fair princes in distress. But he could surprise them, could pull off emotional dialogue and heartfelt sorrow quite well. Some of Logan’s favorite stories were his dialogue exercises, when he put pen to paper and wrote a conversation with no background. They were simple and elegant, every word refined.

Patton wrote the sweetest stories, almost Aesops in nature, fairy tales and small stories that always had a lesson in the end. He liked talking animal stories and stories where the dog didn’t die at the end. He could also pull off emotion, mostly in the bubbly happy field, but when he was writing anger or sadness or guilt, Logan could feel it in his stomach. It roared out from the page, dripping with emotion. Patton poured his figurative heart into those stories. It was a way, Logan figured, for him to express his more negative feelings in a positive way. Whatever worked for him.

Virgil liked realism. This was ironic, perhaps, because the real world caused him so much strife and anxiety. But he liked writing worlds just to the left of reality, maybe with ghosts or vampires or witches—Virgil also liked the supernatural. He liked taking villains or traditionally villainous characters and putting them in a better light. And he liked realistic fiction or urban fantasy because, as he confessed one day, he liked writing things that “made sense.” Real life was messy and dangerous, so he escaped to a version of real life that was safer and less confusing, where everyone had concrete reasons for doing things and nobody did anything unpredictable.

Remus and Janus worked together. They would literally finish each other’s sentences. That worked, because they both had an undying love for horror. Remus, of course, liked the shock value. He liked wrenching a story off the rails and plunging the characters into deeper peril when they least expected it. He liked gore and blood and mass murder, but that expressed itself in detective stories and murder mysteries. In fact, it was Janus who created the scariest stories. He was an expert on psychological horror and would often leave all the Sides shaking and white-faced. It was almost terrifying how quickly he could embody a character, not in the way Roman did with figuring out their mannerisms, but understanding their fears and subconscious thought. Janus also liked writing villains or morally grey characters. Again, of course.

Logan liked reading their stories, even the gruesome or sappy ones. It felt like the Sides were kids again, brainstorming. As if they had undone all the strange paths and complicated histories and growing up. All the good and bad and in-between, all the fights and tears and compromises. Like they were small and simple, sitting on the floor with coloring books and crayons, telling stories like the ones they heard on TV.

They asked Logan to join them, sometimes, and he always said no, pretending to ignore the way their shoulders dropped. He would be terrible at stories, and he had better things to do.

And he had spent his whole life building Thomas’ rational thought. His seriousness. His intelligence. He spent all his time throwing out anything childish or naïve and focusing on being a grownup. On following the rules. On not wasting time with frivolous activities.

To turn his back on all that and tell stories…that was a sacrifice Logan didn’t feel ready to make.

He wished he could understand how the others did it, wished he could understand how to strike a balance and find a way to let go without feeling out of control. He envied their carefreeness, their happiness, their love.

He could have that, if he wanted. He knew he could. He could have it all and lose everything he’d ever gained.

Logan had clawed his way through school, torn himself apart maintaining order, pushed everything inside of him that screamed and cried and felt into a very small speck deep within him. Because it was necessary. Because he was Logic and it was his job.

He didn’t want all of it to mean nothing.

He wanted to be an adult, not simply a kid that grew.

Throw ‘em in the water They will sink or float If you don't then you will never know

“Please?” Roman asked for the fifth time. “We want to have a partner guessing game and there’s an odd number of us.”

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Logan said. “I’m not interested.”

“Aww, Lo.” Patton frowned. “You’d be good at it, I bet! Why not?”

“I have work to do.” Logan didn’t, but he could find some. “Maybe some other time.”

“You don’t mean that,” Virgil muttered from the couch. Patton gave him a reproachful look and he quieted, still staring at Logan from under his bangs.

“Stories are so fun!” Roman grabbed Logan’s hand and tugged him forward. “You’re missing out, Specs! Can’t you just relax and write with us?”

Logan looked around at Patton’s pleading face, Virgil’s loaded stare, Remus’ bright grin, and Janus’ piercing gaze.

“My answer has always remained the same,” Logan said, trying not to appear angry. “I don’t understand why you persist with this. I have made my stance on stories very clear—”

“Why?” Virgil asked.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you like writing stories?” Virgil bit his lip. “Or do you just…not like us?”

Logan blinked. “Virgil, I—of course I like you all! I find your company invigorating, if sometimes tiresome—”

“Then why?” Virgil hunched slightly under Logan’s gaze, but determination still shone in his eyes. “I just want to understand, L.”

“I…” Logan couldn’t lie, or Janus would see right through him. “I…writing stories is not my area of expertise.”

“Yeah, me neither, I’m Anxiety,” Virgil pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“And I’m Morality,” Patton agreed. “It’s not about expertise, it’s about having fun.”

One of the many things that scared Logan. ‘Fun.’ An unquantifiable concept. Confusing and nebulous and such a childish word for a childish idea. Doing something because it felt good with no other reason. Was that logical? Self-care was logical, was this self-care? Logan didn’t like how he scrambled to justify their actions. Stories were not logical. There was no point in trying to figuratively elbow his way into the situation.

Janus tilted his head slightly, like he could hear Logan’s thoughts. Logan quickly glanced away.

“C’mon, dork.” Remus was painting his nails bright red with what Logan assumed was some sort of blood. “I can…make it up to you if you’d like.”

Logan cringed at Remus’ suggestive wiggle. “No thank you.”

“Please, Lo?” Patton’s eyes were wide. “Just once? It’s not the same without you.”

“Exactly,” Roman agreed. “I have no one to argue with about semantics and plot construction! We could debate the usefulness of the Hero’s Journey, I know you think it’s outdated—”

“It is, and that’s irrelevant.” Logan folded his arms and turned to go. “I am not taking part in your frivolous, childish activities. I hope you have an enjoyable time. I shall be in my room.”

“Frivolous?” Roman gasped. “It’s not frivolous!”

“Childish?” Patton asked, looking devastated.

“Logan.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder. Janus wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead tugging at his gloves. But it was unmistakably his voice.

“How dare you say such things!” Roman continued, shaking a finger at Logan. ��Shame on you!”

“It’s not childish,” Patton pleaded. “And that’s not a bad thing!”

Logan ignored them, still watching Janus. After a few moments, Janus spoke.

“It is childish,” he admitted with a shrug. “And probably frivolous. But it’s an enjoyable activity anyway.”

“I know,” Logan said, “but I don’t have time for—”

“Doing something childish,” Janus continued, still not looking at Logan, “doesn’t make you any less of an adult. It’s possible to strike a balance between leisure and work, juvenile and serious…good and bad.” He glanced at the others, giving them each a pointed glare. “We won’t take you less seriously if you participate, right?”

“Of course not!” Roman declared. Patton nodded vigorously. Remus hummed in affirmation, and Virgil gave him a small smile.

Logan’s mouth was dry, and a strange substance seemed to coat his airways, making it difficult to breathe. “I—I appreciate. The gesture. But—”

“Just once, okay?” Roman gave him a hesitant half-smile. “You can’t know until you try, Specs. Just once, for us?”

Logan swallowed. “I—you want me here?”

Roman shrugged. “You’re a bore sometimes, but you’re the smart one. I can’t keep track of half my fantasy races.”

“It’s true,” Virgil agreed. “Most of them are copied from DnD manuals.”

“Hey!” Roman complained. “And how do you know that?”

“I know things.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Well. Um.”

Everyone’s eyes shone as they waited for him to respond.

“Just once,” Logan said slowly. “For—for now.”

Roman smiled and handed him a pencil.

Throw ‘em in the water They could sink or float But unless you let it happen, you will never know

And once again the Sides wrote stories together, lying on the carpet in the summer sun.

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the-overgrowth · 4 years

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Retrospective: “Faybane” #1

This is where it all started, on July 8th, 2016. Although probably a bit earlier than that, but this is the earliest thing I can find that’s actually written down, so that’s what counts. And back in the day I didn’t let ideas marinate the way I do now, I just started writing pretty much as soon as I got the idea.

Anyway, the document was created at this point in time according to Google Docs, and was last modified in October 3rd, 2016. It’s only 3 chapters long, plus one incomplete fourth chapter, and the whole thing is about 17k words.

Which is a lot for 3 chapters. I would say something about how I’m less wordy now, but the latest draft is like 107k words long, so, like, I will always struggle with shutting the fuck up, methinks.

Also, the reason this is called “Faybane” is because that was the working title I used, and the name of this document. I thought it’d be the proper title but like. It’s bad lmao.

Anywhomst, let’s get into it!

Some background info for those who are new or need a refresher: this WIP became a thing after I read and was disappointed by A Court of Thorns and Roses by SJM, as well as The Iron King by Julie Kagawa and some book by Holly Black, was it Tithe?

ACOTAR was the biggest culprit. I feel that this is important to keep in mind as we go through this mess.

We open on Sidra in the forest with a bunch of men she calls a hunting party. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be there, but since she’s the only decent hunter among them and it’s her sister’s wedding today, she has to make the kill to feed the people attending said wedding.

This is, as the kids say, big stupid, and seems like a very ill-prepared celebration? I guess it makes some sense for them to want fresh meat, but this fresh? What if they didn’t find anything? What if they didn’t manage to kill anything? Is the whole thing cancelled? Stupid.

We find out they’ve been hunting a boar and that this dude named Liam, our Gaston replacement, previously wounded the animal but didn’t kill it, causing it to flee and force the hunting party to follow. It’s up to Sidra to make the killing blow, which she does with an arrow straight into its head. This was back when Sidra was still YA Heroine Extraordinaire and the time period was Vaguely Medieval, I guess.

They begin taking their quarry back home and Sidra thinks about how she normally doesn’t hunt this close to the “Faewilds” because animals closer to the border are said to be bigger and more violent. There isn’t an actual border, people just had to rely on intuition and not wander too far into the forest.

She also mentions a girl named Wilda, who disappeared fairly recently and everyone suspects it was the fae. This isn’t relevant now, but Wilda will return in later drafts, I think.

Everybody, especially my family, knew that I was one of the best archers in town, whether I used a bow or a crossbow.

Shut up, Not!Feyre. Nobody likes you.

I should mention that at this point I didn’t bother googling how big wild boars get and just assumed they were the size of like, a thick medium dog. Which is, if you know how big boars are, very incorrect. Four men pulling the animal seems realistic enough, but then Liam just lifts it up on his own? Not buying it.

Sidra laments how much she hates Liam and we find out that he apparently tried to assault her and she stabbed him? And apparently she’s not happy about his marriage to Sinéad but can’t do anything about it because “Father’s word is law” and Sinéad herself laughed it off when Sidra tried to warn her?

Yeah, gonna call bullshit on that one. No idea why this was here or what purpose it serves, the reason Liam doesn’t exist in the latest draft is because I never figured out what his purpose was so I axed him entirely.

Current!Sidra would just kill him the moment he showed an interest in Sinéad, and Current!Sinéad would 100% believe her sister about something like that.

Some bloke named Connor strikes up a conversation with Sidra, seemingly worried about being this far away from human civilization. Liam teases him about it and calls the fae “knife-ears”, because I still had brainrot back then and liked Dragon Age and had zero original ideas in my head.

The men make jokes about having sex with fae women and Sidra seems so disturbed by this that she nocks an arrow. This isn’t the first time she makes references to feeling unsafe around these men, I have no idea why I wrote it this way aside from being edgy, I guess.

My village was mostly populated by men, and even though I wasn’t one of the pretty girls there, I knew these men weren’t picky, even with all their talk about beautiful fae women. I’d heard that fae women would kill their men after sleeping with them. I had no way of know it was true, but a part of me hoped it was and that Liam would some day soon get “lucky” and encounter a female fae, so she could end his misery.

Edgy, dude.

They eventually arrive and Sidra goes inside her house, which is a simple cottage with three rooms. I think her family are all farmers? It’s kind of confusing. She goes into her and Sinéad’s bedroom, where Sinéad is preparing for her wedding. Also, she’s blonde.

“Sid! There you are!” she said cheerily. “Killed a boar, huh? Good on Liam for taking all the credit.”

If you know your man is trash, why are you marrying him?

Apparently Liam seduced Sinéad with sweets and baked goods. I mean ... fair enough. Considering how Sidra complains about being hungry and skinny and going without food if she doesn’t kill the boar because this year’s harvest was minimal, I’m assuming y’all are starving.

We find out Sinéad’s mother doesn’t let her do anything around the house or farm, to preserve her “soft and white” hands and pale complexion so she could be married off easily. This makes zero sense, you’d think these medieval men wouldn’t have the same beauty standards as Victorian England, plus having a mouth to feed that doesn’t even help feeding itself is just nuts.

But remember, this isn’t Sidra, this is Not!Feyre. She needs to be sad and put-upon and a victim. She explains how she was never pretty to begin with and thus nobody considered her to be worthy of marrying off, which then meant she was put to work and became even less attractive because now she was so cool and badass that all the men were intimidated by her.

Yeah, in a village that already doesn’t have a lot of young women? I’m not buying this, lmao. But go off, Not!Feyre.

I’d been the one helping around, instead. Hunting, mostly. Sometimes I’d chop wood or work the farm. Marrying out of the house seemed impossible. Marrying up was practically a dream you forgot upon waking. Had I been pretty from the start there would’ve been a foundation to work from, but I was a lost cause even before my skin became tan and my hands grew veined and calloused. I had freckles which people mistook for mud and dull brown eyes, a long nose that had been broken one time too many and a mouth that made it look like I constantly felt a bad smell no matter what facial expression I made. I’d always been of rather short stature and had brown hair and thick eyebrows, which in combination with everything else made my parents call me their “little goblin”. The scar on my face didn’t help me either: men didn’t like it when their women were more battle-hardened than they were.

Oh god please, don’t go off! We don’t care! Stop going off!

Also what fucking parents call their poor kid a goblin? Yikes.

Sinéad convinces Sidra to get prettied up and Sidra is all “oh I bet all the men will just fall over themselves for my favor now huh” which is just the most annoying fucking thing, prompting Sinéad to respond:

“Well, winter is coming and game is scarce. If they want to survive, marrying the best hunter in the village might be a good bet.”

Yeah! This is correct! I refuse to believe people wouldn’t be into Sidra! Not only does everyone apparently know she’s the best hunter in town, but Sidra herself confirmed the men here outnumber the women and aren’t very picky.

This is fucking stupid. I’m glad I axed it. In my defense, I was very much trying to emulate the YA shit I’d read so far.

Sidra’s grandmother enters the stage. She’s very old in this draft, but otherwise unchanged.

She was a short and wrinkled old lady with extremely bad vision and an even worse grasp on reality. Or maybe an extremely acute grasp on reality, depending on whether you believed her stories or not.

Sidra changes out of the dress again to go out and help her father prepare the boar, all while sulking.

I didn’t envy Sinead, nor any other bride. Despite what most people thought of me, I wasn’t some poor ugly girl longing for the love of a man and the security of marriage. Did I enjoy the idea of having somebody care for me? Sure. But it wasn’t on my list of priorities. I was still trying to figure out what actually was on that list. Not that it mattered. The prospects for a poor village girl were very finite.

Womp womp.

We get some confusing and barely related stuff about Sidra possibly becoming a royal hunter for the king and also about where the village is located in relation to the Faewilds. She speculates that maybe the fae aren’t real, but the way she and everyone else talks about them makes it pretty obvious that they are? This was supposed to build mystery, I guess.

We skip forward to the wedding and Sidra is moping again.

“How are you feeling?” Father asked and squeezed my shoulder.

I wasn’t sure why he was doing that. I assumed it had something to do with the wedding and the fact that despite there being fewer women than men here, I was still not asked to dance. Though this didn’t really bother me, so I just shrugged.

“It doesn’t bother me. Anyway I will continue to mope and feel bitter about this thing that doesn’t bother me.” Hunny ...

At least Current!Sidra has the self-awareness to admit she’s sad and lonely.

[Father’s] marriage to Sinead’s mother was never out of love, more out of necessity. It was easier when you had a big family.

Except for when this “big family” is 3 people who work and 2 people who are just being fed, right? See, I knew back then that having a big family helps when you have a farm, but I also needed to make Sidra Special so Sinéad had to sit on her ass to highlight how pretty and feminine she was or whatnot.

Bleh.

They talk a bit about Sidra’s mother, who passed away five years ago, and Sidra reminisces about how she used to tell amazing stories. It’s all very ... whatever, and serves only to make this point for the hundredth time:

I wasn’t like Mother. I wasn’t full of life and spirit like her. I wasn’t loved and respected by the entire village like her. I was just her disappointing child whose existence they’d rather forget except when they wanted something killed.

Right after this there’s a really abrupt scene transition. Nothing about the wedding coming to an end, nothing about her going to bed, it’s just ... some while later?

Sidra’s father comes back home from ??? and tells Sidra he saw a stag somewhere, but it was hours ago so she better get a move on.

I’m not sure what either of them thinks this will accomplish? Like ... what is she gonna do with it when she kills it ... Carry it home? On her little boney ass? Hmm? I guess I didn’t think of that because I had meta knowledge that she wouldn’t get it home either way, so who cares about logic, right?

Sidra kills two rabbits while stalking the deer, and despite telling us earlier that she doesn’t venture far away from human civilization and the boar hunting being the farthest she’d been and that she wouldn’t go this far alone, she has no issue dwelling very deep into the forest this time.

Like. Henlo? Can we have one logic please and thanks you? Granted, she keeps stopping every now and then to Feel Things Out, but this really goes against how careful she was before and at no point do we get an explanation to her sudden boldness. Plot reasons, I guess.

She nearly stumbles into fae territories and finally decides to head back, except when she starts returning, she sees the stag she’s been tracking. It’s abnormally huge and has a “dark brown” coat that she finds odd, but of course she’s too stupid to connect the dots.

She sneaks up on it and honestly? This chapter ending still slaps.

A scream of pain left the creature and I saw it topple. But though my arrow hit a deer, a man fell to the ground.

DUN DUN DUN.

And yeah, the ACOTAR roots rear their ugly heads again. I liked the idea of the protagonist shooting a fae disguised as an animal, but I decided to cut out the middleman and just have her obliterate Val right in chapter one. Don’t worry, he doesn’t die.

#retrospective #my writing

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marauders-groupie · 4 years

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Top 5/Bottom 5 Fics by Kudos

I was tagged by some really talented writers: @kinetic-elaboration, @thefangirlingbarista, @eyessharpweaponshot, and @thelittlefanpire. I’ll binge-read their fics this weekend and reblog their posts so stay tuned! Thank you, guys! <3

Top 5 marauders_groupie fics by kudos

1. We Burned Bright [Bellarke, prompt fill collection, 69k words]

Kudos: 3030

Honestly, I’m not surprised. This is a prompt/one-shot collection with lots of fics so there’s something for everyone. My personal fave is “Bellamy sings at a bar in the next time over and no one knows.”

2. Livewire [Bellarke, soulmate AU, 4.2k words] Kudos: 1544

...(Jesus, when did this get so many kudos???)

Clarke Griffin finds 'Atlas' written on her wrist and Bellamy Blake sees flowers bloom on his skin.

[Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soulmate's skin as well.]

3. I’d Still Stare at You [Bellarke, soulmate AU, 5.7k words] Kudos: 1273

...(Personally, I find this fic to be overrated, but I’m glad people like it so much!)

Nothing about Clarke's soulmate makes sense until she meets Octavia’s brother.

And then it’s like every puzzle piece that hasn’t been able to fit the picture suddenly clicks.

[Prompt: Where a tattoo isn’t set from the moment you’re born and whatever tattoos your soulmate gets, you get them, too.]

4. All Peeling Thunder [Bellarke, soulmate/enemy AU, 8.6k words] Kudos: 1251

...(Surprise, surprise! It’s a soulmate fic! But joking aside, this is my personal fave out of all the soulmate fics I wrote because of the ~twisté)

Clarke has always been aware of Bellamy, name traced in black ink on both wrists. But it isn't until she gets older that she realizes she didn't just get a soulmate - she got her worst enemy, too.

[Based on a tumblr post: "Your enemy's name is on one wrist and your soulmate on the other. Hope it's not the same name on both wrists."]

5. Magnetized [Bellarke, soulmate & childhood friends AU, 6k] Kudos: 831

(...... oh my God they were soulmates.)

No one knows how Bellamy and Clarke managed to turn ruining each other's chances of finding true love into friendship. But they still did.

There isn't a scar she's got that he doesn't have a matching one for. There isn't a laughter line he doesn't know the story behind. There isn't a flicker in her eye he can't name.

The world could go to hell and they'd still be standing, Bellamy and Clarke, cocky and smirking, as if they didn't get the memo.

[Prompt(s): childhood best friends + soulmates + compasses]

Bottom 5 marauders_groupie fics by kudos

1. You Call the Shots, Babe (I Just Wanna Be Yours) [Murphamy, Fluff, 499 words] Kudos: 58

Basically - Murphamy and FLUFF!

(Also, a proposal.)

2. love you with all the grace of a tumble down the stairs [Braven, Angst, 4k] Kudos: 68

... (Very purple prose-y, but I love Braven.)

They do the love thing all wrong but it's no wonder because she's a shooting star on a reverse proportional trajectory, and he is a self-made hero the skies love to hate.

Or:

How a threat to kick his ass makes Bellamy fall in love with Raven Reyes. How they screw it all up. And fix it again.

3. veins busy // hearts in atrophy [Murphamy, Angst, 2.2k] Kudos: 77

... (AKA: things that go bump in the night when you listen to Hozier too much.)

“A poet and an artist, huh?” John whispers into his ear, voice hoarse, cheeks sweaty. Bellamy’s one-bedroom studio is packed with books, papers and pens that don’t even work anymore. His palms are covered in ink. But it’s all good. “What a fucking cliché, Blake.”

Bellamy cocks an eyebrow, makes John’s heart stutter. He’d never admit it, of course he wouldn’t. Men like him have had enough heartache not to have a heart anymore.

(But John's still beats out a war march when Bellamy smiles like he sees right through him.)

4. Inhale Fire Exhale Desire [Princess Mechanic, Canon, 728 words] Kudos: 115

... (Princess Mechanic owns my ass, byeee!)

Raven stands up to leave, leaning on her good leg but Clarke isn’t ready to let her go. These days she lets everyone go and they don’t even glance over their shoulders.

Who could love a girl who smells like death and war?

And then Raven looks at her, incredulous, and Clarke thinks – well, maybe a girl with skin of gasoline and fingertips like matches.

5. Rare and Beautiful [Bellarke, A Discovery of Witches/Magic AU, 12.3k] Kudos: 154

... (I love this fic with all of my heart and I am so happy I wrote it!!!)

Clarke Griffin's magic was taken from her when she was eight years old. But after reading a mystical manuscript twenty years later, it all comes rushing back. But where there is magic, there are monsters too.

A story about agency, loss, freedom, and the most beautiful thing of them all: existence.

“Oh, and you forgot to mention one very important thing,” she whispers, casual.

“And what would that be, Princess?”

The nickname slips off his tongue so easily, and he can feel her heartbeat picking up the pace. Her laughter melts against him.

“That you’d much rather have blood than coffee.”

And there you have it, folks! Plenty of soulmates on the menu. :D Thank you again for tagging me!

I’m going to tag: @pepperish @alltheworldsinmyhead @kindclaws @katchyalater @kay-emm-gee @craniumhurricane @star-sky-earth @arysafics @important-metaphors + everyone else who wants to do it!

#tagged #lana talks fic

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carbootsoul · 3 years

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i was tagged by @katarahairloopies!!! thank u :mwah:

name: leo! @/zeitgeistofnow on ao3, @lazypigeon & @timetohope on here, altho i’m considering uh switching back to not having an art blog :/ i have to think abt it.

fandom(s): ace attorney is my main one rn bc i’m replaying the games with a friend of mine and it’s reminding me how invested i am in the characters!! a lot of my recent fic is atla stuff, altho i’ve been distancing myself from the fandom bc i’ve kinda exhausted my interest in it. finally i’ve been reading a lot of mp100 fic but i don’t think i’ll ever write for it. i just love how dumb all the characters r (with the dubious exception of ritsu)

where you post: ao3!! tbh i always get suprised when people say they write/read fic on any other platform like i haven’t messed around w wattpad or ff.net since middle school... catch up........

most popular oneshot: going just by “one chapter” as the definition of a oneshot, the firestarters, bc it’s fluffy and modern au :) i wouldn’t necessarily call it a oneshot tho bc to me a oneshot shows like, one scene? so like by my definition and your sweet sweet sun makes me crazy (i wanna lay you down and see how you amaze me is my most popular!! (also @ kit u thought UR fic titles were unnecessarily long??? i’ve hit the ao3 LIMIT for characters in titles. it’s about the aesthetic

most popular multichapter fic: sdkjflakjlkj it’s two crowned kings; and one that stood alone, which is a w359 fic i wrote back in late 2017. it’s literally the last fic i haven’t orphaned from when i actually wrote podcast fic (i have 4 other podcast fics but they were all borne out of nostalgia and written after i stopped participating in the fandom). i rewrote all but the last chapter? the last two? about a year ago and i fucked up halfway through so like chapter 6 and 7 are repeated and there’s something missing but i’m too lazy to fix it. no one’s going to read it now anyway :) it WAS the top minlace fic for a little while tho which i take great pride in.

favorite story you’ve written so far: oh that’s a hard question akfsldkfj i honestly like most of them!! and i write a LOT so there’s a lot to choose from. tonight, we are young is def one of my favorites- it was fun to write and i got to explore the ways zuko and yue r similar, which i LOVE to do outside of a zukka/yukka view. you can lean on my arm as you break my heart is one that i’m really proud of? the whole “cooking as an expression of bato’s love” is definitely some of my favorites. a lot of my ace attorney fics would be categoried as my favorites if i hadn’t improved, too, if that makes sense. like they’re no long my favorites because i can see where my writing is shitty and it bothers me, but if i had written them a month ago they’d be my favorite.

fic you were nervous to post: figures 1-5: killing gods def!! it’s a lot more purple-prose-y than most of my fics and it was also written before i’d kinda like emersed myself in the atla fandom so i didn’t have as good a grasp on the general understanding of zuko’s character as i do now. tbh it’s one i’m rly happy w tho!! i have a few people leave really nice comments on it and rereading them makes me really happy. also it was the start of me hating the position of fire lord and being at least passively anti-it in my fics.

how you choose your titles: they’re almost all song lyrics!! only 14 of my 50 words AREN’T song lyrics and about half of those are from before i started writing ace attorney fic lol. sometimes i go into a fic with a song in mind for the vibes and then i usually go with lyrics from that (like in ‘cuz we’re the greatest /they’ll hang us in the louvre), but otherwise i usually pick an artist i’ve been listening to and go through their songs until i find a lyric that fits. sometimes the lyric doesn’t even really fit the fic and i just chose it at random or because i searching up the word “fly” in my spotify library or whatever. honestly i like coming up with titles? i know a lot of fic writers hate it but being able to just use song lyrics is v soothing for me and while i know that most people won’t search out a song just bc it’s a fic title like.. seeing that the title of a fic is a hozier lyric does affect how i read it and i kinda like that.

do you outline? i outline my long form/multichaptered fics with varying strictness. usually anything over ~8k will have some kind of outline. sometimes i go into it with every single scene planned out, sometimes it’s just notes on the side of the google doc that say “it's about MORE family. about how it's not betraying your existing family to find more” and “scenes i want to include: [...]” and “vampires... ngl kinda hot.” i’m trying to outline super strictly less bc i’ve found it’s less fun? but i do try to keep a plot arc in mind. since most of my fics are more character-driven than plot-driven, that usually just means keeping track of what character development i want to happen or what is motiviating the characters.

complete: um everything posted on ao3 i guess. also the MULTITUDE of orphaned fics out there asksfjldkj i always click ‘leave my pseud on’ so if u look up my username you see all of my fics and then a. lot of other ones.

in progress: - a fic titled ‘dad phoenix’ that is actually just a no DL-6 au with defense attorney miles edgeworth and single dad bartender phoenix where neither of them want to date for A While but phoenix gets wrapped up in one of miles’s cases. it’s about family. it’s about writing teenagers. it’s about the background franmaya which is ALWAYS what i’m here for in wrightworth fics - a franmaya werewolf/vampire au because i’m ~gay~ and love rivals to lovers and also franziska and maya both being angry their older brothers r dating each other. - my secret santa fic!! which i can’t talk about much but it does feature toph and zuko and also piandao and jeong jeong???? idk where they came from but they are Part Of The Fic Now also i forgot iroh existed for half the fic and wrote piandao as zuko’s father figure and now i’m in too deep. - a 5+1 bakoda fic (maybe a bato/hakoda/kay fic??? i need to decide. that’s part of why this fic is still incomplete bc i can’t decide which relationship dynamic i prefer) that’s 5 times bato said he loves hakoda and one time hakoda said it back. possibly i have already written him saying i love u back and i need to change the title a little. - retail au klapollo where klavier works at an overpriced boutique and apollo comes in to buy earrings for nahyuta’s birthday. klavier gives him a punch card (one that the store doesn’t actually offer anymore as a bid to get apollo to come back) and all of apollo’s family come in to use the punch card and also give klavier variations on the shovel talk/find out if he’s actually into apollo. - a LOT of atla fics that i don’t think i’ll ever finish :(

coming soon/not yet started: - i want to write some blackmadhi bc they’re.. cute..... and it’s a good excuse to also write athena and i love her - my stuff for yueki week!!! i have NOT prepped enough but hopefully i’ll remember in time! i wrote the prompts in a way that kinda set up stuff i’ve already wanted to write (don’t look at me lol) so hopefully i’ll get at least two or three fics finished in time. - i want to rewrite the wrightworth fic i have about them not getting married bc it was interesting and i like what i wrote about but i think i could have written it better and made it more interesting. rewriting fics is hard tho bc i’m never sure if it makes sense to just edit in the new work or to repost it? and then if u repost it do u delete the old one? conflicting so i might just not

do you accept prompts? totally!!! a disclaimer tho i’m not super into writing atla stuff anymore (most of the atla stuff i’m still writing is something i made a commitment to finish) so if your prompt is an atla one i probably won’t do it :/ basically anything else is fair game tho!! podcasts/aa/sa/uh i don’t remember anything else but like if you search a fandom on my blog and come up with more than two posts about it chances r i’d be happy to write fic for it!

upcoming work that you’re most excited about: oh huh i mean probably the no dl-6 au!!! it’s the longest ace attorney fic i’ve written already and since it’s wrightworth it’ll get more attention than any franmaya fic i write. my standards r so high now tho after getting to much feedback from atla fans... love u all... obviously i have no choice but to pressure my atla mutuals into playing ace attorney. pls ask abt it bc i WIll Give You A Sales Pitch about why you’d like it in relation to atla

tagging: i’m not rly tagging anyone!!! @deadflora if you still consider urself a fic writer also consider urself tagged! also any of my other mutuals who write fic i just can’t think of anyone rn

#leo.txt #thank u!! i think i wrote a lot for this lol #but literally ive been so bored i don't have anything better to do

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