#I wrote about half this snippet on my phone and then had to stop to plot out the entire rest of the fic before and after :/

[highladyluck]

A tiny little ficlet for Forsaken Week!

"Moiraine, we have to leave, now. They could come back at any moment," Mat said.

Thom had rushed to Moiraine's side, and was supporting her, looking curiously like a Warder. He nodded. "We should not waste Valan Luca's last and greatest show."

Mat turned to the other woman in the chamber, who looked back at him coolly with those large, dark eyes. She was stunningly beautiful and incredibly poised. Something about the combination niggled at his memory. "You too, mistress. I won't leave anyone behind for these foxes to gnaw on."

"Mat, that is Lanfear," Moiraine cut in sharply, her chiming accent sounding somehow strange to his ears. Or maybe it was just what she said. "One of the Forsaken. Daughter of the Night."

"But she…" looks so familiar, he stopped himself from saying. Where had he seen someone that looked like her? How could he have forgotten seeing someone who looked like her? Then the full force of Moiraine's statement hit him, and he grunted.

"That's Lanfear? Lanfear is here too?" He tried not to shout, but it was still louder than he intended. "Who else might I expect here, Aes Sedai? The Daughter of the Nine Moons, here to claim me as her consort, after I rescue her from durance vile?"

Moiraine's eyebrows drew together, as if she were concentrating. She opened her mouth hesitantly, and Mat barely had time to regret his slip of the tongue before the other woman- Lanfear!- responded.

"I answer to that title, as well," she said, in a light, amused tone. "Yet I had thought it lost to this Age."

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “And It Was You I Looked For First” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— Reneé’s private album release celebration.

The house is already pulsing when you arrive — a glass-walled, modern mansion nestled in the Hollywood Hills, all open spaces and curated chaos. Someone lets you in, someone whose name you forget the moment they say it, and you immediately feel that buzz: of champagne in bloodstreams, of creatives high on proximity, of whispered conversations above bass-heavy remixes of unreleased tracks.

This is her crowd. The musicians. The queers. The poets and producers. Everyone just a little bit luminous under low lights and soft filters.

But you don’t see Reneé.

Not right away.

She’s somewhere, of course — this is her night, after all. The launch of a new era. Everyone’s talking about it. The snippets. The lyrics. The edge in her voice that wasn’t there before.

And you’re the person she texted directly, an invitation pinging into your phone at 2:13 AM two nights ago.

"You better come. It won’t feel right if you’re not there."

You don’t know what she meant by that. You haven’t known what she’s meant lately. The lines have been blurring, and no one's drawn new ones since.

You move through the party, saying hellos you half-mean, hugging people you vaguely know. Everyone is beautiful in that effortless LA way — loose silk shirts, artful tattoos, dewy cheekbones. But you only scan the room for one face.

And then, you spot her.

Across the living room, through the glass doors, on the balcony — Reneé.

She’s leaning back on the edge of a lounge chair, red solo cup in hand, loose curls wild from the wind, head thrown back in laughter at something someone said. There's a spotlight glow around her, even under the shadows. The kind that makes you stop. Watch.

You make your way out slowly. She sees you before you’re halfway there.

And her whole body shifts.

Like tension slinks off her spine. Like the night settles into her bones differently now that you’re here.

“You came,” she says when you reach her. There’s something about the way she says it — like it wasn’t guaranteed. Like it mattered.

You smile. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, but you hate parties.”

“Still yours,” you reply, and it comes out too fast, too honest. You clear your throat, add, “I couldn’t miss it.”

Her eyes flick down to your mouth, just for a second. You pretend not to notice. She pretends she didn’t.

The conversation fades around you. There’s no one else on the balcony now.

Reneé sips her drink. “Wanna hear something off the record?”

You nod. She sets her cup aside and leans in closer, conspiratorial.

“I wrote track six about you.”

You blink. “What?”

“That bridge? ‘Every room I walk into, I look for the ghost of someone I haven’t had yet’? That’s you.”

Your heart stutters. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.” Her voice drops a register. “You haunt me. Quietly. The worst kind.”

You don’t breathe. Not really.

She keeps going. “And if you ever kiss me first, I’ll deny this entire conversation.”

You laugh — only because you have to. Because if you don’t, you might do something irreversible.

“So what if I don’t kiss you?” you ask, playing with the condensation on your own cup.

“Then we keep pretending,” she murmurs. “That I didn’t just write you into my favorite song.”

The music inside shifts. You hear the opening notes of something unreleased — bass-heavy, sultry, aching. And just like that, she’s standing, holding her hand out to you.

“Dance with me,” she says.

You hesitate.

She adds, “Just one.”

You take it.

And for three minutes and twenty-two seconds, you pretend you’re allowed to have this — her laugh in your ear, her fingers tracing your wrist, her eyes like open windows you might just fall through.

Because tonight, she let it slip. Because tonight, you didn’t stop her. And because tonight, in the middle of a song no one else understands yet, she wrote you into history.

[rainbow-arrow]

lukadrian: running away/playing hooky for a day(maybe a weekend). They deserve it.

yes yes yes yes i love prompts and silly stories and these boys and i've been wanting to write something silly with adrien crushing on luka first (with a luka crushing on chat ofc lol)

(it's after wishmaker, before season four finale, aka my Favorite time)

a/n: okay so it took me two months bc i experienced massive dread and amnesia and i wrote another fic and updated wato (mistake i guess) but now i have a full fic for it:

A snippet:

Luka stopped the moment he realized he was being watched, tugging his earbuds from his ears and turning to see none other than Adrien Agreste leaning against the wall, just off the Liberty. He shoved his headphones in his pocket before waving, “Hey there–”

“Hi,” Adrien half waved, as if expecting an invitation to walk closer, “You busy?”

He looked down at his bike, guitar in basket, and knowing he had both a backpack and helmet on, so clearly in the middle of trying to head to school, but Adrien had never just appeared like this– something had to be either very wrong, or very right, the former much more likely, “Not at all, something up?”

Adrien was clearly watching him as he leaned his bike against his leg to unclip his helmet, “I know you probably have class– I do too, but could we talk? Go somewhere maybe– just, forget about everything for a bit?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he said, too quickly, based on the blond's almost surprised reaction, “Do you have a plan, or general idea on what you want to do, or–” Adrien shrugged, tired and non-committal, “You ever played hooky before?”

He shook his head, “No, why would I?”

Luka couldn’t help but smile at such a question, “Fair– let me put my stuff down and we can go wherever–” 

Adrien followed him, more like a lost puppy, around the boat as he put away his school belongings, on the deck and down to his room. Hopefully, he wanted to talk, and Luka was desperately ready to listen, “Everyone recognizes me here–” Adrien eventually explained, unprompted, “People post me and my bodyguard and Nathalie track me down, my phone is being tracked– I left it at home, but it’ll take time for them to notice–”

“Then let’s get out of Paris,” Luka said, Adrien looking almost surprised, but genuinely pleased with his suggestion, as though he was already thinking it himself, “Just hop on a train and go where it takes us.”

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

sorry this took forever and a half in my defense i do not remember the last three months. and i graduated.

i'm taking suggestions and prompts now i guess!!!!!

[bekkachaos]

choosing was so hard but i will go with ⚡ ⚡ ⚡ ⚡ and 🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴 (for now)

⚡ ghost Buck au

more following on from this snippet!

"Lightning?" he repeated, and the man nodded gently. "I was struck by lightning?"

"It's more common than you'd think," he said.

Buck wanted to say I know that, people think it's one in a million but it's actually closer to one in fifteen thousand odds of being hit once in your lifetime. It was a fact that Christopher would love, and that Eddie wouldn't believe until he searched it up for himself.

Eddie.

Buck's eyes grew wide as he looked back at the man, the image of Eddie flying to the ground surrounded by sparks making his insides twist and tighten.

"Eddie," he said, panic in his eyes and voice. "Is he okay? Is he here?"

"Eddie's fine, Evan," he said, and Buck felt a moment of relief, but it was short lived. "You're the only one here."

"But if he's fine then—" Buck's heart seemed to stop in his chest as the words played over in his head, and then he began to feel physically sick.

Eddie's okay, relief. But Eddie's not here, Buck is. If Eddie's okay and he's not here, then Buck...

"I'm... not fine, am I?" he asked slowly.

The man didn't answer. He just stood there looking back at Buck, giving him time to come to the conclusion himself. It was a conclusion that Buck was scrambling around, trying to find any other explanation for what was happening, anything else that would explain this. But there wasn't one, and in the pit of his stomach, Buck knew the truth of it.

He was alone. He wasn't fine. This wasn't really a hospital.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

🦴 bones gravedigger au

based on the first gravedigger episode of bones, where Eddie is Booth and Buck is Brennan (aka my favourite episode of the whole show).

"What have I told you about threatening people in the interrogation room?"

Eddie looked up to see Athena standing in his doorway, arms folded and one eyebrow cocked high as she stared back at him.

"Technically we weren't in the interrogation room," he said, giving her a shrug and making her snort back at him in response.

"The man wrote a book, made some profits," she walked in and perched herself on the edge of his desk as he sat back in his chair. "As much as you might dislike the way he's used this case for personal gain, he didn't bury those boys alive."

"Not that we've been able to prove," Eddie muttered as his cell phone started ringing.

He didn't recognise the number, and Athena's voice took his focus away anyway.

"Eddie," she said. "You can let it go to voicemail."

He rolled his eyes and dropped the phone on the desk, reaching up to run his hand through his hair.

"Anyone making a profit off a guy who keeps evading police and burying people alive doesn't need coddling by me," he said.

She made a face as though she agreed with him, but they were in his office, not a bar. She had to be the boss.

"Not saying I don't agree with you," she said.

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming," Eddie said with a smile, his phone pinging with the sound of his voicemail.

He pressed the button and put the phone to his ear as he waited for Athena's half-hearted lecture.

"But," she said, eyeing him with a wry smile. "Whether you like it or not, this guy is an expert on the gravedigger. He knows as much as anyone what he's capable of and you want him on your side. He can give us information that we can use to... Eddie? What is it?"

Throughout her conversation she had noticed the way Eddie's face fell, the way he had stopped listening to her and began to focus intently on the call. He looked up at her and took the phone away from his ear, putting it on speaker so she could hear the chilling words that made the bile rise at the back of his throat.

"Evan Buckley and Howard Han have been buried alive. You have 12 hours to wire transfer $4 million or you'll never see them again. This will be my last communication."

pick a wip, and make me write!

[boneskullravenriver]

I'm trying to get back into reading and less time dicking about on TikTok. Because I want to finally finish words of radiance. And according to a note I have in obsidian (where I have a book tracker thing I cobbled together).... I started this book in OCTOBER (2024). It is now January of 2025. Lmao.

I'm in the later half of the book so... I've had this event thing set on my calendar to remind me to read 50 pages a day. It's a big annoying full screen notification that buzzes when it pops up on my phone at exactly the same time every day. So I put in some ambiance music on my laptop and I set a stopwatch to time how long it takes me to read 50 pages.

Hopefully at this pace I can finish soon. Been trying to Pavlov myself into reading and not going "oh, I'm gonna do this tomorrow..." *Tomorrow comes* "nah, the next day!"

Then I don't read for like a month lol.

It's been going good so far. I have this small, really small notebook that I jot down what page I've started at, what page I'm aiming for, the date.. what book I'm reading, and then really short hand-ish indicators on what pages I find interesting, maybe a brief comment to remind myself why I found it interesting (not too long) so I can go back to my obsidian book tracker thing to expand on it later where I have more space to write.

I also write down the amount of time it took me to read (from the stop watch).

It's a lot and I know some folks will ask "why can't you just go... Read?? Why all the extra shit?"

Well, you see, my attention span is so shit nowadays. Even though I might like whatever book I'm reading, my brain goes "won't it be easier to just watch a video, or spend the whole day scrolling TikTok for cheap entertainment?" Because it's less of mental energy to do that.

Reading means engaging with a story. Understanding what's going on, or figuring out what's going on, and picking up whatever small hints the author is trying to put down. If you're watching a TV show, you get these things from visual or auditory cues.

Like, slightly ominous music or making the POV look like it's from the perspective of a stalker coming up behind the protagonist in a scary movie or something. In books, you don't get that. It's through words. Character actions and other things. That requires you to be engaged, not passive.

I'm also trying to read more because i feel like I wrote better whenever I was reading more. I have this old document of a story I wrote in highschool.. and I was blown away by how much I seemed to have imitated the pacing and story structure of the books I was reading back then. I was crafting a story with plot and struggle for my characters to get through... But also not neglecting their relationships with one another and giving them all different quirks so they weren't all the same.

I was doing all of that without outlining, without banging my head against a wall trying to figure it all out. I was just... Doing it. I remember typing most of it on my phone on Google docs (I didn't have a computer for a long while because my old one became busted) like wtf!!

And I remember distinctly thinking to myself "I'm such a bad writer... I don't know where I'm going with this"

And then I come back, years later looking this over like... Damn... I was cooking something!

Little snippet I found:

I dont mind sharing this since it doesn't really show explicit detail about the story or anything so it's whatever. This is from at least... I think.... 2017 or 2018 I want to say? So would have been 16 or 17 lol.

I even had a trans character before I really understood what that was, which shocked me lol

[poppypickle]

Half-Finished Fic Fest

So, like most fic writers, I've amassed a bunch of half-written fic drafts over the years. I didn't post them at the time for various reasons -- because they were unfinished or because I thought they tread too familiar territory or because I just didn't feel like it.

But I've decided to post them in all their half-finished glory because what the hell, why not?

I wrote this Dan/Blair ficlet way back in...2012, maybe? Originally I wanted to have five snippets featuring Henry at various ages to show how the relationship between Dan, Blair, and Henry evolved over the years. It was going to be very sweet! But I only finished this first section, which features a seven-year-old Henry. If you're still carrying a torch for Dair, enjoy!

If I could be anywhere, I'd still be here instead 578 words

“Uncle Dan, I need your help.”

Henry Bass marches into the Humphrey-Van der Woodsen loft, a notebook in his arms. Blair’s heels click clack against the wood floor as she follows, her purposeful gait exactly matching her son’s.

Dan laughs, setting his coffee down on the counter before turning to brew another cup for Blair.

“What can I do for you, kiddo?”

Henry climbs up onto a kitchen counter stool. “I have to do a career report.” He pulls a pencil out from his notebook’s spiral ring and flips the notebook open to a blank page.

“Henry’s teacher has asked the children to interview someone about what they do for a living,” Blair clarifies, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter. “I told him that Uncle Nate was a better choice, but for some reason he’s chosen you, Humphrey.”

Dan pours the coffee into a mug and wordlessly hands it to Blair along with the sugar bowl. “And you didn’t want to ask your parents or Aunt Serena?”

“It can’t be our parents and my mom says ‘influencer’ isn’t a real job,” Henry shrugs.

“Henry! That was a private conversation.” Blair turns to look around the apartment. “Where is Serena anyway?”

“Budapest?” Dan stops to think. “No wait, maybe Bruges?”

Blair rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. “It’s Budapest,” she confirms, turning the phone to show Dan his wife’s latest Instagram post.

“I picked you because I wanted to, Uncle Dan,” Henry interrupts, his pencil still poised above the paper. “Because I like writing stories too.”

Dan stops and smiles. “That’s amazing. I would love to read one of your stories one day, Henry.”

“Maybe. If you agree to let me interview you for my report,” Henry says, jutting his little hand out expectantly.

Dan laughs. “It’s a deal,” he says, shaking Henry’s hand. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re just like your mom?” Blair rolls her eyes, but hides her smile behind the coffee mug.

“Only everyone,” Henry scoffs. “Okay, enough chit chat. First question: When did you know you wanted to be a writer?”

“When I was eight years old I entered a story contest at the library and won. Then I just kept writing and writing.”

Henry scribbles the answer down, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrates. “Okay, how many books have you written and what was your first book about?”

“Four books, and….” Dan hesitates, then looks at Blair with a question in his eyes.

“His first book was about me,” Blair says matter-of-factly. “I was an early muse,” she continues, leaning over her son’s notebook to watch him carefully write the answer down. “M-u-s-e.”

Henry quirks an eyebrow up. “Really?”

Dan meets Blair’s eyes over Henry’s head. “It was a really long time ago. Before you were even born.”

Henry looks between the two of them for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, you guys ARE really old.”

Blair sputters out a cross between a scoff and a gasp, while Dan just laughs heartily.

“Can we get back to my report now?” Henry sighs after a moment. “I have a few more questions.”

“How many?”

“20.”

Dan’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“I suppose you had better make waffles, Humphrey.” Blair says, setting herself down daintily on the counter stool next to Henry. “Sounds like we’re going to be here awhile.”

Dan smiles and pulls a bowl out from a cabinet. “Blueberry or chocolate chip?”

[eastwindmlk]

I'll show you mine if you show me yours... 😁 Speed Dating Chaos?

As you might imagine, this WIP was prompted by the same prompt from last Jilytober. This one. Though what I wrote then was nowhere near chaotic enough. Nor was there actual speed dating involved. But I did write some more here and there.

While it is on the list for this year and I hope to make a little more progress! But under the fold there is a little snippet of what it's turning into.

Back to the WIP tag game

Mariam had outdone herself, the room was filled with beautiful women and James had a hard time believing they were there for him. He wasn’t bad-looking by any standard, but he definitely wasn’t fit enough for most of these women. Hooking a finger into his collar, he gave himself some air and looked at the matchmaker beside him. “Are you sure they’re all here for me?”

His question was met with a disapproving look and a sarcastic reply. “No, I just invited them all here to show you what you can’t have.” She flicked a lock of straight black hair over her shoulder as she surveyed the room. “It does help that they have no idea what to expect other than You’re a young, family-oriented heir to a pharmaceutical empire. And if they have half a brain, which I made sure they did, you have a thing for redheads.”

It wasn’t like he had not noticed the trend before, a range from strawberry blonde to deep auburn. “I can’t help but feel like this is giving the wrong impression,” James commented, only for the answer to be interrupted by a phone call. Her iPad was pressed into his hand while she tucked the phone against her shoulder. “There is something I need to take care of. You stay here, don’t even think about going in without me.” She warned, her eyes flashing dangerously at him. All he could really do was nod and watch Mariam stalk off.

James wasn’t opposed to having another minute to himself, occasionally peering down at the pool of potentials waiting for him. Impatient as he was, it took all but three minutes for him to start pacing. Lingering near the door, wondering if he could peer his head through, just to check how she was going on.

Just as he decided to have a little peek, the door swung open, and a young woman rushed inside. Reeling to a stop right before colliding with him. “Oh bullocks, I’m so sorry I am late.” She started, tossing her trench coat his way. “You must be Duke.” James blinked at her confused, following her eyes gaze to the tablet in his hands. “So, you’re not my matchmaker?” Still nothing. “Goodness me, can you hear me?” His eyes travelled up to meet her, slowly. Taking in the trail of freckles that lead from a rather generous cleavage to the hollow of the throat. Soft copper waves framed her impatient expression.

Stammering for a moment, he managed a shake of his head. “No, sorry I’m not.” He smiled apologetically as if somehow this was all his fault. “I swear my calendar said conference room B.” She muttered to herself, and suddenly James’s eyes lit up. “This is D. I think you’re in the wrong room.” At his words, she marched back to the door and pulled it open, peering at the plaque on the side. “Oh piss it! You’re right! I am so sorry! Well, off I pop.” The woman laughed lightly, the sound like wind chimes.

Before he could do more than raise his hand to wave, she disappeared. Leaving him as startled as she had found him. Staring at the closed door, still smiling to himself when Mariam reappeared.

[ruiningsalads]

I gotta know about Elfordshire :o

The name is one I pulled out of my ass after struggling for days to think of a fake town name, and I just never went back and changed it. I wrote all this something like 8 years ago.

This one stemmed from a dream: a man in an office, as a teen boy and girl gleefully taunt him (but they were singing? dreams are weird). Then, an explosion.

It turned into a multiple-POV story with half of it set in the early 1900s and the rest 117 years prior. In the later timeline, a reporter is trying to uncover what really happened to cause the "Elfordshire Massacre" -- the colloquial name for the destruction of the Elfordshire Orphanage.

Snippet below the cut.

Caroline Davis pored over the yellowing newspapers, a small frown playing at the edges of her lips. Something wasn’t adding up. Samuel Harrison had been widely respected and beloved by children. Those who had left the orphanage before—well, before—had nothing but good things to say about their time spent in his orphanage. They all said how much of a generous, caring man he was, and how hard he worked to keep them all happy. In fact, there wasn’t a single negative thing written about him before the Massacre. There was no family tragedy, no mental illness, and no stories of how he lost his temper once and beat a child. There was absolutely nothing until after it had happened. Caroline flipped through her notes to find the list of victims. Even written in her small, cramped handwriting, the list still filled three pages front and back with a little on the fourth. Near the top of the list were the two women found near Mr. Harrison’s body. One was his 29-year-old girlfriend and one of the nurses at the orphanage, Melanie Thompson. The other, Jane Compton, was a 17-year-old girl who was in her last year of orphanage care. Ms. Thompson was found several yards away from the orphanage, covered in burns and soot with a knife protruding from her throat. Miss Compton was found next to Mr. Harrison. He had shot her before turning his gun on himself, though she hadn’t died right away. The coroner’s report said she’d died shortly before help arrived nearly an hour later. A cold shiver wracked Caroline’s body. Even though it had been over a hundred years since the Massacre, she still felt sick reading about it. Hastily, she fumbled through her purse to find a cigarette. Smoking helped calm her down, though it was a recent habit. It had been the only thing she could find that would stop her hands from shaking. She finally found and lit one of her guilty pleasures. Taking a long drag, she stared down at her typewriter, completely unsure of where to start. A week prior, Caroline had been hired to write a book on the Elfordshire Massacre and the events leading up to it. Most of her waking hours had been filled with endless research, phone calls, and a two hour train ride to see the memorial site. Despite all that, she was no closer to starting the book as she had been when she was first hired. The deeper she dug, the more she found that simply didn’t make sense. There was something missing – something big. Caroline took one last drag on her cigarette and put it out in a nearby ashtray. Her fingers hovered over the keys of her typewriter, hesitating. How in the world would she even start?

[mizu-amia-akiyama]

Finished hw so heres a small "Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Princess" snippet i just wrote

I walk home with james, thinking about whether I should tell him about my sapphicness or not. God, this is so frustrating! We'll be spending the rest of the afternoon together, so i'll get to bring it up to him then. We pass by Cornelia High. "Hey, isn't that the school your new friend is from?" james asks me, kind of sounding annoyed. "Yeah, and? We can still be friends if we're in rival schools. Doesn't mean we have to be rivals." I respond, hoping he'll brush it off. Just then, as I was going to ask about his new best friend, Emma, he kisses me on the cheek. I freeze, and stop walking completely. James asks me "U good?" just as I see lyla walking home from school. She had seen the whole thing! I see lyla run home, semi-crying. "James, as much as I think you're cool, i don't like you like that. Sorry." I tell James. "Oh, okay. So, am I still coming over?" He asks. I seriously think about this, whether I should have some time to think about other things alone or do homework with him. "Uhm, you know what, James? i think I should be alone for a while." I say. "Oh, okay. Well, see you on monday?" He asks. "Yeah, seeya monday..." I reply, and we walk our seperate ways to our houses. Good thing we were at the splitoff point to where our houses are. I walk home, speedwalking, ready to go to my room and worry the hell out of myself.

I make it home and storm off to my room. Taylor and my mom are sitting in the living room, Taylor doing a project for her science class. "Hey, Jules! Everything alright?" My mom asks me. "Yep! Everything's fine, mom!" I say as I shut my room door. I look at my phone. 4:30pm. I crash on my bed and think about what lyla must be feeling right now. I open my phone and just stare at it. Should I text her? Fuck yes! I wanna explain this to her! I open up Discord. She's online! Perfect! I start typing, "Heyy lyla! Sorry about what you just saw, I think. Don't know what you saw, but I'm pretty sure it was James kissing me on the cheek. Listen, I'm sorry, he did it out of nowhere! And I saw u run away, half crying. Lyla, I know you like me. I like you, too! I really, really like you. And I know it would crush you if James and I got together. I just wanna clear things up: James and I aren't together." I take a deep breath and send the text. God, why was it so long?! And why'd I confess in the same message??!! I'm freaking out at this point.

I see the three bubbles under the text bar, indicating Lyla's typing. "It's fine, Julie. And, truth be told, I never thought you'd pick up on the fact I like you!" She texts. "Yeah, I like you, too. So uhm, since your school is combining with our senior prom and homecoming..." I text back. "Do you wanna go to prom with me?" I hit send, my heart racing. Lyla went offline before I sent the message about our combined proms and homecomings. Guess I'll have to wait for her response. I turn off my phone and stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. James doesn't have discord. Guess I'm gonna have to slip him a note on monday. I close my eyes, but only briefly, because my mom yells for me. "Julie! Come help Taylor with her project! I need to go to her ptc!" mom yells from downstairs. I sigh, get up, and go downstairs. Guess today's one of those days: half good, half bad.

"Hey, Julie, why'd you go straight upstairs when you came home?" Taylor asks me as I sit next to her at the table. "Well, you know my best friend of 3 years, James?" I ask her. "Yeah, what about him? Did he do something bad?" She asks. I respond to her, not missing a detail, "Well, on our walk home, he kissed me on the cheek, indicating he like-likes me, and I don't like-like him back." I trust Taylor with all my secrets. My parents don't like to hear any drama, so I tell Taylor everything. "Oh, okay. Well, I've noticed you and that Lyla girl are really close. Anything there?" Taylor asks. Damn, i didn't think she was capable of picking up on those things! Well, I mean, I was like that in the 7th grade, maybe taylor's the same, too? "Well- HEY, shouldn't we be doing your project? C'mon, it's 4:45." I say, getting her back on track. She snaps back into her mini-scientist mode. "OKAY SO-" she starts to ramble about her project and everything leading up to it, and, to be honest, I get a bit bored after she mentions microorganisms for the 3rd time. After a while, she gets to the actual point of the project. I help her almost all night. It's more complicated than I thought! The things they make these kids do these days...

I forget about dinner and wake up at 3am to go get a snack from the snack cabinet because, obviously, my stomach feels like it might cave in. I reach for a snack bar and sit on the couch. I remember that one song, it went "3am and i'm still awake..." as I bite my snack bar. I go on my phone and check my tumblr to see what James posted today. I look at his most recent post, which was a reblog. "Tell me you got rejected without telling me you got rejected." was the original post. James reblogged as "I think I got rejected without getting rejected. Idfk man." God, he really has to post everything online, huh? Inez posted something, too, said, "Who's ready for combined prom and homecoming? I know Este and I are!" Este being the hopeless romantic she is, and Inez being the gossip she is, they're going together as homies. I start scrolling and get bored, and finish up eating my snack bar. I go on Discord because I'm bored and want to see if Lyla's online. I sink into the couch as I open discord and the butterflies take over. She's online! Lyla starts typing. "Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes! I would LOVE to go to prom and with you! AND homecoming!" I can't believe it!!! I finally did it after all this time! I'm going to homecoming and prom with Lyla Marlow Laynes!

Just then, I hear someone coming down the stairs. "Julie, wha'tch'ya doin' up so late? Or, I mean, early, i guess?" Taylor's voice travels through the almost empty living room. "I'm on discord. Lyla just accepted my prom and homecoming invites!" I whisper, trying not to wake our parents up. "That's great, Jules, but it's late, or early, and I'm bored. I woke up a while ago and can't fall back asleep." She says in her tired morning voice, and comes and sits next to me on the couch. "Well, do you wanna watch something?" I ask her, shutting off my phone. She loves watching things when we're up late. "Yeah, can we watch Prom Pact?" she asks, knowing full well it's 13+. "Sure, we can watch it. But we have to keep the volume down. Don't want mom and dad catching us, right?" I say. "Right," she says back, and she snuggles next to me on the couch as I turn on the TV and go to Disney plus.

We watch Disney movies until 7am which, to be honest, was really nice. Spending time with my sister was really nice. Taylor's chronically online and has to go to the doctor for monthly heart checkups, so we don't talk unless she needs something. Mom and Dad come downstairs to me and Taylor eating chocolate popcorn on the couch and watching "The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement." They're not surprised, as we've done this before too many times to count before, but not that recently. "So, you guys finally had your movie morning again?" Dad says as he makes his coffee. "Yep. I missed it." Taylor responds. I missed it too. The sun's up. Time for another typical Saturday.

[charmwitch]

a little character snippet I wrote last night:

(Note: Lawrence is a crow currently.)

“What’s wrong?” Huxley flicked the cigarette in his hand, fiddling with it but not lighting it near the bird. He really should quit, what with the precarious state Lawrence was in. It’d probably benefit Edel too, if he was ever allowed near him.

“I noticed,” his words drifted slightly, like be didn’t know how to approach something, “that your clothes are a little different lately. Are they from Belacuna?”

Ah, Huxley laughed. “That’s right, I’m half Belan. Got these from some folks there. Thank you gifts from previous clients.”

“Are you fluent?” Curious today, he was. “Somewhat,” he shrugged, “did you want to learn?”

Lawrence pondered it for a moment before shaking his head, “I don’t know any other language, I don’t want to sound dumb if I mess up.”

“S’not hard, just gotta start small.”

“Who taught you? Was it your mom? Dad?”

Huxley stopped walking then, the feathering silence without his footsteps caught Lawrence’s attention.

“It was my mother,” he quietly continued to walk, “and then my grandmother, after she died.”

“Oh,” Lawrence’s heart felt heavy, “… sorry.”

“Car accident,” he continued, “so they say, but that’s neither here or there, I don’t remember much, I was only a kid.”

Lawrence stayed quiet, thinking about his own mom.

“What’s she like?” Huxley shifted his shoulder to catch his attention, “Yours.”

“Mine? Well,” he had to think. Although he loved his mom, Lawrence always worried about putting her in a bad light when describing her. She was a little terrifying, after all.

“She’s pretty strict, but well meaning. We would always take care of the others together… I was her little helper. It was a bit suffocating at times, but I was always glad when she took care of dad’s business. He’s too soft, you know?”

“She’s a bull, huh?”

“She always cut my hair too short, I told her I didn’t like people looking at my face all the time. They would say things about our eyes…”

“Is she green-eyed as well?”

“Yeah,” he paused, “… I probably hurt her feelings telling her these things. She’s probably heard it all before. I should… talk to her sometime. I just worry- if she finds out, you know? She’ll take matters into her own hands.”

“Right, we can’t have that,”

“My little sisters are still at home, and dad’s health hasn’t been great. I don’t want to add more undo stress than I have already…”

“Is finding out her missing son isn’t dead more or less stress?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Lawrence huffed, “...you’re the adult here, what’d you think?”

“I think you’re right t’keep the status quo.”

“…”

“Oh! She’s also a great magician! A witch, even!”

“Is she now?” Huxley laughed, Lawrence’s eyes lit up talking about her, even if he still had those moments of being, well, a teen. “That’s strange, I know most witches in that area by name.”

“Don’t think she’s registered,” Lawrence mumbled, “she had to drop out of school for some reason. Heard her talking about it on the phone once. But she’s super smart, she would ace any exam! She’s been learning from home, but she never told me her affinity…”

He looked up, “… actually, you haven’t told me your affinity either.”

Huxley simply nodded, “‘s a secret, people get weirded when they find out.”

“Ah. I knew it. Necromancy.”

“Ya wish. Besides, that’s not an affinity.”

Some lil guys, (Lawrence and Huxley)

Huxley's hands are always gloved!!

[thissortofsorcery]

This is a snippet of that social media modern!AU I wrote about a month ago! I’m not working on it officially, just letting the ideas flow for now.

-

Billy rehearses what he wants to say about a hundred ways in his mind all day. He doesn’t really pay attention to any of his classes, keeps circling back to ways to convince Harrington to take him up on his offer.

It doesn’t help that people keep turning around in their seats to shoot him looks and whisper shit in class. It’s been a week since Hagan posted the TikTok saying that Billy beat Harrington up, and the gossip is still hot, what with the thing going fucking viral. Everyone and their mother made a duet giving a score to the bruising on Harrington’s face.

Like Billy needed to feel any more like a piece of shit.

He turned his phone off during first period. He couldn’t stand it going off in his pocket every fucking minute, reminding him his popularity was going up because of something he fucked up.

So he was going to talk to Harrington today. Make it up to him.

Billy waits to talk to Harrington after school, in the parking lot. They’ve had to wait for the dweeb brigade at the middle school often enough that Billy knows they’ll have some time to talk before they show up, so Billy just tosses his bag in his car and leans on the hood to wait for Harrington to show up.

Sure enough, just a couple minutes later, the sound of Harrington’s BMW unlocking rings out, and Billy walks up to him. He’s only a few parking spots down.

His face still looks bad, but it looks worse when he scowls, and Harrington’s got his phone out and is looking down at it with a face like he wants to drive over it. Not off to a good start.

“Hey, Harrington,” Billy makes sure to call out a couple paces behind. He doesn’t want to spook him or whatever.

Harrington’s been pretty jumpy lately, and Billy doesn’t want to think about why.

Brown hair flops around like a shampoo commercial, caught in the fall wind, and Billy smells apples. Harrington turn his scowl to Billy.

“Hargrove. What do you want?”

Billy stops a couple steps away from him, takes a drag of his cigarette. He figures asking for permission to talk to him isn’t going to go well, and it’s a pussy move besides. Billy Hargrove is no pussy.

“I’m sorry. About the TikTok. I asked Tommy to take it down but he’s being a dick about it,” Billy says.

Steve’s got a half smile on his face, but it’s not a nice one. “You asked him?”

“What, did you want me to beat him up?”

Harrington raises his eyebrows and points at his own face, incredulous.

“A little surprised you’re capable of words, actually.”

Billy huffs, looking away. His cigarette’s burned down to ash, and he flicks it to the ground. Billy figured Harrington would be difficult about it, he figured he’d have to keep his temper in check. So far, so predictable. His chest’s already feeling warm under his shirt, armpits sweating.

“Look,” Billy says, after a deep breath. “I’m sorry about how shit went down that night. I took things too far. I should’ve stopped once you were down.”

“You should’ve stopped once I was down?” Harrington all but yells, and he steps closer to Billy, that King Steve fire flaring up in him again. The heat in Billy’s chest answers, spreads, warms his neck.

“You lied to me about my sister being there, Harrington. You deserved at least one hit,” Billy gets up in Steve’s face, nostrils flaring. “And you threw the first punch.”

Harrington’s face is tight under the bruising, scowl deep and punishing, like he’s judge and jury of everything that’s fair in the world. Like he gets to be the judge of Billy Hargrove.

“Are you going to throw it now, Hargrove?” Harrington asks, mouth a flat line. His face is right up against Billy’s, noses almost touching. “Right in the middle of the parking lot? Gonna make another video with Hagan?”

Billy feels his face drop like someone’s flipped a switch on him, his chest goes cold. The back of his neck feels clammy. Billy takes a step back, then two.

“Fuck,” He rubs a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

Billy grabs another cigarette with a shaking hand. Steve watches him light it and take a long drag. He doesn’t say anything and his expression doesn’t change, he just follows Billy with his eyes as he smokes sense back into himself. He almost lost it again.

“I came here to apologize,” Billy says, once he gets himself together. “And to make you an offer.”

“An offer,” Harrington repeats, voice flat.

Billy hesitates. Bites his lip. Here goes nothing. “Yeah. Look, my account’s doing better since Tommy’s video went viral. Your Insta, too, I checked.”

“So, what? We lean into it?” Harrington says, incredulous. “My content’s family friendly, man, I can’t do that.”

“No, dipshit,” Billy snaps. If Harrington can just let him fucking speak. “We could start making some content together. Start showing up on each other’s social media. Youtube vídeos, streams, instagram. We can get your channel to how it used to be.”

“My channel’s doing fine, Hargrove,” Steve looks offended, looks angry. His fist is balling up where he’s holding his backpack.

“It will be helping me too, Harrington,” Billy admits, much as it pains him. “I can’t exactly make surfing content from fucking Indiana. I need material.”

Steve shakes his head, “Thanks for the offer, but I’m doing alright on my own.”

“It’ll make the story blow over if we look like we’re friends,” Billy almost shouts, stepping forward when it looks like Steve is about to back away towards his car. He doesn’t know why he wants this so badly. He should cut his losses and back off. “Hagan can’t push anymore videos if we show up online looking like buddies on each other’s channels. We can control the story. I don’t know about you, but I’m in hot water with a sponsor about this shit.”

Steve actually pauses. He looks Billy up and down, frowns at him with his entire body, it seems. Billy would give more than a penny to know what Harrington’s thinking, what he thinks of Billy in that moment. Billy doesn’t like making himself this vulnerable, can’t shake the feeling of wanting to curl his limbs back into his clothes like they’re a turtle shell and hide from everything, but he crossed a line and he fucked up. Now he’s gotta put it right.

“Alright,” Steve tucks his hair back behind his ear, a gesture that looks oddly vulnerable after the aggressiveness of the conversation. “Okay, we can try it out. But we back out before we actually kill each other.”

“Done,” Billy agrees, and he had to actually try to keep himself from smiling. “We gotta meet up to come up with some ideas. You free this week?”

Steve pulls out his phone and swipes through it for a bit.

“Yeah. Um, Thursday? After school? We can meet at the diner.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Billy nods. He feels awkward now, having said what he wanted to say. He should go, but he oddly doesn’t want to. “I’ll drop Max at home and meet you there.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And that’s too much for Billy.

“Well, see you around, amigo,” He says, and turns right around and heads back to the Camaro. He lights another cigarette on the way.

That was good, he thinks, climbing into the front seat to wait for Max. If it works, he can make up for his mess and maybe salvage his TikTok at the same time. It won’t be the same, but it won’t be years of his life wasted either.

He smokes his cigarette like it’s a lifeline, and turns on the radio in his car. He can’t mess this up now. He can’t mess this up. It’s just a little over six months until he can hightail out of here and back to California, where he can get his life back.

He can last that long.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy. 

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that. 

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched. 

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths. 

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display. 

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting. 

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears. 

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long. 

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected. 

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable. 

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

[areseebee]

popping in this evening to share something fun aka a snippet of a WIP in honor of ending my fic posting hiatus (more on that in a different post in a minute).

below is about 1.6k words of the beginning of a pre-someday interlude featuring james and erin in new york together for about 12 hours in october 2006, roughly six months before someday starts. this trip is mentioned very, very briefly in chapter 2 and the form of what i wrote below is partially inspired by the film, before sunrise.

October 2006, New York City

“Oh, look at that,” James said, nodding at the trash bags piled up on the sidewalk across the street from where they stood at 2 am, pizza slices in hand. “Rats.”

“Ew! What?” Erin said, glancing up mid-bite to see two rats scurrying in and around the bags of trash as they scavenged. “Oh, that makes me want to boke. Eugh, look at their wormy tails. Is it weird that there are two of them? Do rats hang out together?”

“I dunno,” he said, shrugging and taking another bite. “Guess these do. Rat friends. Just hanging out, having a good time together, getting food. Hey, like us! It’s sort of nice.”

“Cheers to that,” she said, holding up her pizza.

“I am not cheersing to ‘rat friends,’” he said indignantly.

“You’re the one who said it,” she said, offering her pizza up again. He refused to return the gesture. “Fine. Cheers to us, then. For making 12 hours in the same city work.”

“Cheers to us,” he said, bumping the end of his folded slice against hers before taking another bite.

“How much time before you have to leave for the airport?” she said, hiking her jacket sleeve up to check her watch. “Oh. An hour. Well – what do you want to do in our last hour together?”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, chewing. “Let’s just walk. Is that ok?”

“Suits me,” she said, taking a last bite and tossing the grease-soaked paper plate in a nearby bin. “Shall we?”

They set off down the sidewalk together, James wincing as his feet hit the sidewalk. His feet were sore. He wasn’t sure they’d ever been this sore before, but he also didn’t think he’d managed to walk quite this much before.

They’d been walking for hours – since 3 pm the following afternoon when Erin had traversed the seven blocks from her Midtown Manhattan hotel to meet him at Columbus Circle so they could walk Central Park together to the Met.

“I want to see that roof exhibit, and I want to see that big temple thing, and then the gift shop, and then I don’t care what we do,” she’d said on the phone the week before. “And then I just want to walk. Anywhere. And eat good food.”

“It’s a plan,” he’d answered.

He’d waited anxiously at the corner, trying to spot her early through the throngs of people on what ended up being a clear, sunny day, but he’d been looking in the wrong direction when she bounded up to him with a grin on her face. She threw her arms around his shoulders for a hug, and said “Hi” against his neck. He’d stepped back almost immediately when he’d felt her speak the words against him. It was better that way. Safer, probably. Whatever that meant.

“Hi,” he said back, still holding her elbows in his hands to keep her at half an arms’ length. His cheeks already ached from his smile. “How are you? How was your flight? Should we go?”

“Lead the way,” she’d said, so he did, and they walked through the park’s yellow glow as the sunlight filtered through the autumn leaves and the dead leaves crunched under their feet.

“It was sort of miserable,” she said after a moment of their crunching footsteps.

“What was?” he asked, glancing at her. When he caught her eye again, he failed to stifle his smile and looked away.

“The flight,” she answered. “Not so long, you know. But I couldn’t sleep at all. Too nervous. My brain wouldn’t shut up. I’m so fucking tired,” she laughed half-heartedly.

He stopped and turned to her. “Are you sure you want to go today? You should get some sleep. I can walk you back to your hotel.”

“No! No. I’m fine. Besides, I’m supposed to stay awake, right? Until a normal time,” she shrugged, and motioned to him to start walking again.

“I’ll get you back early, then,” he answered decisively, shifting a step to the right and bumping shoulders with Erin as he avoided a passing runner.

“Maybe,” she smiled up at him.

“Why were you nervous?” James asked, resuming his distance and intentionally kicking a small pebble a meter ahead of them. When they got close enough, Erin kicked it forward a measure more, back to him. 

“Oh. I don’t know. Publisher meeting, I guess. New York City. Even London doesn’t feel this big to me. I’ve just been nervous. I’m not now though,” she rushed to clarify as if she were worried she’d offended him. “Not with you. I just kept thinking – get to the airport, customs, cab, hotel, James. My ma made me bring an international calling card. She even exchanged for a whole roll of coins – quarters – just in case I got lost and needed to use a payphone,” she snorted.

“Mary shouldn’t worry. I wouldn’t let you get lost,” James answered, bumping into her shoulder again but intentionally this time. A gesture of reassurance; the only way they ever touched each other anymore, except for the hugs he’d get when it was just the two of them and when it’d been at least three months since she’d last seen him. That was the threshold, he’d discovered.

“I know,” she said, smiling up at him again.

“I’m surprisingly good at navigating in a city,” he added.

“I know,” she repeated.

“Does she know I lived in London for 15 years and took myself to school for eight of them?”

“She knows!” Erin laughed. “Jesus. Don’t remind her of that. It makes her all moody and then she takes it out on me as if it’s my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” he said decisively.

“Sure,” Erin said.

“It’s not,” he insisted again.

“Ok! I didn’t say it was,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say it was.”

“Your tone implied –”

“I’m not trying to argue,” she said, tugging on the elbow of his jacket. “Especially when I’m not going to see you again for forever after this.”

He pursed his lips but felt the crease between his eyebrows relax again. “It’s not forever. Maybe a few months.”

“You’ll miss Christmas and my birthday. Forever.”

“You missed my birthday,” he pointed out.

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I? Not even a month late. That’s not so bad.”

“No, not so bad. Do I get a gift? What are you going to give me?” he asked, giving her a sideways glance.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” she repeated, shooting him a cheeky smile.

“That’s exactly what I expected you to say,” he responded, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. Being honest, he liked that he knew what she was going to say even if it was something self-aggrandizingly ridiculous. “Hold on, let’s go this way,” he said, motioning her to a side path that veered left.

“I’ll take you to dinner. Ok?” she said, following his direction. “A nice dinner. Wherever you want to go.”

“Sure,” he laughed.

“We’ll get…” she said, thinking, “Steak. And drink lots of wine,” Erin said. “Like real adults.”

“I thought I was going to get to choose.”

“You can!” she insisted. “Wherever you want to go – where there is also steak and wine.”

“Sure,” he laughed again. “I’m surprised you can afford steak and wine. Is the first book deal that lucrative?”

“I have a per diem,” she said, watching a couple bundled up next to each other sitting in a slant of sunlight on a boulder halfway across the lawn from them.

“Oh so that’s why I get dinner.”

“Shut up,” she said, shooting him a look to go with it. “I have to spend it somewhere. I’m spending it on you. On us. To celebrate.”

“My birthday?”

“A lot of things. The book. New York. Seeing you.” He hummed his agreement in response. He felt her eyes on him, but resisted the urge to meet them back. “God, somehow I think you’re taller. You always seem taller. I always think so. What’s with that?”

“Do I? I didn’t know you thought that,” he said, looking at her in surprise. It was her turn to avoid his glance as she shrugged and looked ahead in the direction they were walking. “Maybe you’re getting shorter.”

“Aye, maybe,” she sighed. “That’s probably it. Mammy says I’m growing a hunchback from sitting in front of my computer all day. What do you think? Hunchback?” she asked, stopping and turning her profile to him, hunching her shoulders over for effect.

He pretended to consider and then nodded. “We’ll have to install you in Notre Dame the way you’re going.”

“Aye, that’s what I thought too. Just think of the novels I’ll write. You can make a film about me.”

“You’re always trying to get me to make a film about you.”

“I am very interesting subject matter,” she sniffed. “A young, beautiful, successful writer who is slowly turning into a hermit and will one day write masterpieces in the attic of a cathedral? You should get started now,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder for effect – or, what little length of it reached her shoulder.

She’d cut her hair a few years back – too short, she’d said at the time: “That’s why they say don’t cut your hair in the middle of an identity crisis” – but, even as it had grown out, she’d never let it get much past her shoulders again. He liked it. It suited her. Especially in this golden light. Her blonde hair seemed to glow.

Her elbow brushed against his as she stuck her hands inside her jacket pockets. “Sorry,” she muttered half-heartedly, but didn’t move to put any distance between them.

He didn’t think too much of it. Bumping shoulders, brushing elbows – that was easy to do in a place like New York City. In a place like New York City, there was no such thing as personal space. And that made it easy to embrace it with Erin, instead of worrying about it and what it might mean.

“This way,” he said, indicating the direction. “We’ll stay on this path for a while.”

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Author's Notes (lifeofkaze)

HPHM Rockstar AU

Thank you, friends

Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you

I'm so grateful for all the things you helped me do

~ Big Star - Thank You Friends ~

Wow.

This is it.

When Stars Ignite - the Rockstar AU - is now officially over, and I still can’t quite believe it yet. Even though it has been written and edited for months now (honestly, I’ve never been as organised before), there wasn’t a single day since putting “The End” beneath the final chapter that I haven’t thought about the Rockstars I have come to love and hate (but that’s another story - hopefully not literally).

Never in a thousand years would I have imagined what would come from me innocently listening to the radio while going on a foodshop back in the spring of 2021. It was a new band that was playing - or, new to me at least, not new new - and their song blew me out of the park so much that I instantly downloaded it and played it on repeat until I was home and then some more. I don’t want to know what the people must have been thinking of me nodding my head like a maniac between tomatoes and grapes, but I digress.

The same evening - still listening to and discovering more of the same band - my then new friend @the-al-chemist and I were just chatting away and I mentioned that I thought my OC Lizzie would make a fine drummer. One word led to another and before we even knew it we were distributing our favourite characters to instruments and jobs behind the scenes.

I honestly thought that that would be it but if I have learned one thing about the Rockstars (looking at you, Lizzie) it’s that they’re the divas if I’ve ever seen some. So, as I was taking a walk the next day I found myself stopping and frantically typing the first loose scenes and snippets into the notes app of my phone, long before there even was anything resembling a plot.

Cut to a few weeks later and I had given up every pretence of not wanting to write this AU instead of the second instalment of my Balance series, had a full plot, draft and script and had bullied convinced Al into not only letting me borrow her OC Artemis, but join me as a full co-author.

Cut to a few months later again and I was sitting in front of my computer, a glass of cherry wine in hand, and crying my eyes out because 63 chapters of this wonderful story that still won’t leave me alone were written and all was well. It was like finishing An Art of Balance all over again, and I felt empty and full all at once, and so incredibly proud of Al and myself it’s hard to put it into words. But as a writer that kinda is my job, so let’s try anyway.

There are so many people without whom this monster of a story would never have been possible, so first of all thanks to all the characters I put through so much shit.

Thank you to my main girl Lizzie, for all the stories she is forcing me/allowing me to write, for giving me eternal joy and teaching me that making mistakes is okay. Thank you to Orion for letting me into his incredibly exhausting mind and showing that there are different and unexpected sides to all of us. Thank you to Charlie, who was ready to strike a balance (pun very much intended) between two writers and two (non-)ships and was a real champ in the process. Even (a small) thank you to Everett, who was never meant to be as important as he turned out to be and helped me write better and more emotionally involved than I had ever thought possible.

And, of course, thank you a thousand times to Artemis for letting me write her at all.

Thank you to @kc-and-co and @that-scouse-wizard for trusting us with KC and David and thank you to @whatwouldvalerydo and @thatravenpuffwitch for lending us Talia, Leila and Ellie for some teeny-tiny cameos that were so much fun to do.

And - of course and most of all - thank you to my dear, dear Al. Thank you for your support, thank you for helping me plan this thing, thank you for only fighting me half-heartedly when I asked you to join me. Thank you for holding my hand when I wrote the smut, thank you for lifting me up when I had a creative crisis, thank you for the amazing Rockstar gift you wrote for me. Thank you for all the lyrics, thank you for so much “new” music, thank you for teaching me so much about the British day to day life (and all the insults, especially the insults). Thank you for making my writing infinitely better. Thank you for hopping on a plane in the middle of a pandemic to come and see me when we had withdrawal symptoms after the fic was done. Thank you for becoming my friend, the best friend I’ve had in years, and the friend I never knew I was missing from my life until you were suddenly there. Don’t you ever dare leave again.

I could go on like this forever, so let me put it like this - your friendship was the best and most rewarding thing to come out of the Rockstar AU. And no, I will not be taking notes on this.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you to all of you reading these credits. Thank you to all our readers for putting up with this endless story. Thank you for following, engaging and commenting, for rooting and suffering with Lizzie, Orion, Charlie and Artemis. Thank you for being on that ride with us. Without you, it would have been a lot less fun.

So, in that regard, I think the curtain calls and it’s time for our last bow.

Don’t wait for an encore.

There will be none.

At least I hope so.

I really fucking hope so.

No promises.

We love you. Rock on.

[simmerandwrite]

strangers - steve rogers x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and non-consensual touching, swearing.

Word count: 4870

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When your subway ride home takes a turn for the worst, you hope a stranger in a coffee shop will help you out.

Notes: If you saw a snippet of this the other day, here’s the full thing! I wanted to tackle some ‘in need of saving’ tropes and this just sort of happened. I’ve never posted straight up on Tumblr before but I’m a bit lacking in my experience with reader fics, so I figured this was a good place to share it. no beta, any mistakes are my own! If you like it, let me know - thanks for reading!

—

Steve Rogers liked his days off. Not that he had a set schedule week to week anyway but when things aligned correctly, he could do whatever he wanted. No world saving, no training, no report writing, no meetings.

He had scoped out a small little coffee shop in Brooklyn where he liked to spend these quiet afternoons. Usually with a book in hand (he had so many books to catch up on) or some music loaded to his phone (Nat was currently educating him on 90s punk rock) or a notebook and pencil. People watching served as wonderful inspiration to sketch.

He sipped his cappuccino, eyes tipped downward at the book ahead of him on the table. He was interrupted just moments later as someone dropped into the chair across from him.

Now, Steve wasn’t intentionally hiding out at this hole-in-the-wall cafe. But he did put on his laughable disguise still - a beaten up Yankees cap and his prescription-less thick framed glasses. He liked the anonymity. That didn’t always stop people from recognizing him.

As he opened his mouth to question the person who was suddenly joining him for coffee, she slid her phone across the table to him. Her hand shook. His eyebrows flexed into a curious frown as he looked at the screen displaying a plainly typed note:

‘Do you mind if I sit someone is following me home sorry to disturb you’

—

As if your day hadn’t been absolutely terrible enough, you spotted the gremlin of a man on the subway watching you again. You knew he worked somewhere in the same office building as you because he always trailed a few paces behind you when pushing through the revolving doors in the lobby. It wasn’t uncommon to see the same people on the same subway line at the same time every day, but this man’s presence had become an unwanted downside.

He was always there. Worse than that, he seemed to be always watching you. Today, it was even more obvious that he was following you.

When that thought first occurred to you, it had been really easy to shrug off. He was just a guy taking the subway. But when he happened to be on the later train with you one day, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach.

And now, as the car was filling up even more after the second stop in DUMBO, he had moved to stand and put himself even closer to you.

You had been going through so many Next Steps. God, that phrase was the bane of your existence. Next steps, next steps..

Maybe you could tell him to fuck off. You could make an appointment with Leanna in HR and see if there is a way to figure out the name of this guy - though he didn’t work for your company so that was likely going to be a dead end. You could start taking the bus to the village before grabbing the train. Maybe you could Uber home some days instead of taking the subway. Not that you could afford that but this guy was..

You stiffened immediately.

This guy was touching you. In the midst of the crowded subway car, he was pressed against you entirely. And was he.. His hips were moving against your leg and.. Wait, that was two hands on your hips now.. Hot breath whispered against your neck and -

Fuck.

You threw yourself through the mob as the train came to a stop. With hurried feet you ran onto the platform and up the stairs, doing your best to weave through the flow of people, like a fish trying to make it upstream. You tried not to be obvious but as you snapped your head over your shoulders to look back, you saw him there again.

He was smirking. No, snarling.

Next steps, next steps.

You joined a sea of people crossing the street, taking your first left to try and steer yourself into a particular direction. You were still a far walk from your apartment but with this man on your heels, you didn’t want to lead him anywhere near there.

You grabbed your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through the contacts. Surely there had to be someone you could call but even then, what could they do? Offer advice?

It didn’t occur to you until then but would it be valuable to call the cops?

Despite the late day sunlight, you suddenly felt very aware of the emptiness of the sidewalk on that side street. You needed to be around people. It definitely wasn’t logical to be anywhere near alone with this guy and -

It sounded like his footsteps were getting closer. With a panicked gulp, you yanked on the door of a little hole-in-the-wall cafe. Your eyes scanned the space quickly once you were inside. You probably shouldn’t sit alone, you couldn’t run to the bathroom if you aren’t sure where it is or if you needed a key. There were too many variables.

You needed something. Next steps..

You spotted someone sitting at a small table near the window and without thinking, you sent out a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and you rushed over. The man was clearly alone, a half consumed ceramic mug of coffee sitting to the right of his book.

Swallowing hard, you quickly typed on your phone and slid it across the table to him after you sat. You tried your best to stay very calm and hoped that he would play along. God, what if he didn’t play along and -

Behind you, the door chimed once more and you desperately wanted to see if it was that man - if the gremlin had followed you inside. You clasped your hands together in your lap and forced a smile on as you looked at the stranger sitting across from you.

Despite not knowing him, there was a familiarity about his appearance. Behind his thick glasses, soft blue eyes searched you carefully. His eyes flicked to the screen once more, stiffening in his chair as he looked past you towards the rest of the cafe.

With his right hand, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something quickly and turned the page towards you.

Are you hurt?

You shook your head quickly. He offered you a tight smile and wrote once more.

Buzzcut, grey jacket?

Your eyes blew open wide and you tilted your head into a nod.

I’m Steve

He flipped the notebook closed and extended his hand across the table, palm facing up. He leaned forward just slightly, meeting your eyes with a reassuring smile. “Play along.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand and you slowly unclamped your own, grabbing his on the table instead. He was doing an impressive job splitting his attention between you and his surroundings, eyes scanning the room. He squeezed your hand very gently, brushing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Tell me about your day.”

You sucked in a hard breath. You weren’t entirely sure what his strategy was but something told you this guy was in your corner. Though despite that, you could feel another set of eyes on you.

“Uh,” you started quietly, letting the air escape your lungs. “Surprisingly, I didn’t think it could get worse before I got on the subway after work. I had a review meeting that was not great and we had a free catered lunch that was not vegetarian friendly. Missed an important email and deadline and… well, here I am whining about it and interrupting your day. Listen, I’m going to-

You moved to stand up but Steve shook his head, grasping your hand. “Give it a few more minutes, I think he’ll give up and leave.”

His words were casual but had an authoritative tone. Once more his eyes left you, looking towards the front of the cafe. He raised his free hand and motioned to one of the baristas. You weren’t certain if this was the type of place who served people at their seats but clearly he had a comfortable rapport as the young girl approached with a warm smile on her face.

“Hey Tia, could I get another?”

“Anything for you?” The barista turned her head as she asked, pony tail moving from side to side.

“Uhm.” You paused and thought. You certainly had no desire to even consider a coffee order when you felt someone’s linger gaze boring into you. “A decaf con panna, if that’s possible.” The girl confirmed it was with a nod then left the table side.

“Con panna?” Steve’s lips pulled into a curious smirk. Something about his smile calmed you.

“Espresso with whipped cream on top,” you answered. “Short and sweet.”

“I’ll have to try that next time.”

Steve sure had a soothing smile. When his thumb stopped tracing against your palm - when did that even start? - you felt an empty sadness about the loss. Wow, what did that even say about your standards when a stranger was brushing his thumb against your hand that you were so grateful for? Well, it was a thousand times better than someone rubbing his -

You winced at the memory, biting down as you clutched your bottom lip between your teeth. Though that shameful feeling hadn’t disappeared, you managed to keep it at bay. But now, it seemed to have left an image you were unable to blink away.

The sweet smell of whipped cream and the shuffling of paper cups broke you from your trance. You reached for your bag to fish out a few dollars but when you looked up, Steve was waving a hand to stop you.

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate his kindness. You did. You really, really did. But given the last half hour, you still had a hard time settling your nervous mind.

“Thanks, Tia.” Steve’s eyes were jumping around the place as the barista grabbed the cash he offered. A loud stomp of footsteps drew their attention as the Subway Gremlin saddled up beside the table.

“Sorry to be a bother, darlin’ - any chance I can borrow your phone?”

You couldn’t help but look at him. Though his words were directed at the barista, he made a point to glance over at you.

You felt Steve’s hands grip yours. When you looked towards him, his eyes were very carefully watching the man. How did he manage to -

“Sorry, we don’t have a dedicated line available to customers.” Tia politely shook her head, pointing towards the door. “There’s a CityBank up the street that can help you, I’m sure.” She shrugged and headed back to the coffee counter.

The man stood still, opening his mouth to argue.

Steve sat back, shoulders broad and steady. “Did you need directions there? I think it’s just two blocks. Maybe 500 paces.” His tone was flat. “Just out the door and you’ll be on your way.”

You kept your eyes on Steve. He kept his stare directed at the man. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the man moved his feet. He turned on his heel, though not before stopping to look at you again.

“I will see you tomorrow, dar-

Steve released your hand and pushed his chair back, standing quickly and grasping the man’s shoulder.

Steve towered over him. “You have five seconds.” The man pulled away from Steve’s grip then finally stomped away. You kept your eyes tightly shut until you heard the chime of the bell indicating the movement of the door. Then, you collapsed onto your arms on the edge of the table.

Steve, meanwhile, headed to the door and kept watch for a few more moments to ensure the man actually departed from the area. Then, he stopped at the counter and exchanged a few words with Tia before returning you.

You were still doing your best to encourage the floor to open up and swallow you whole. How had this even escalated? The worst part was your mind seemed clouded with doubt. This man, you hadn’t even interacted with him before. Why was he suddenly so invested in you? To a point where he might follow you home? Were you just another target or had this been intentional?

You considered yourself a fairly observant person and yet..

You twisted your hands together in your lap and tried to consider what was going to happen now. Next steps, next steps..

“Hey.” Steve returned to his chair. Your eyes flicked up towards him, noticing he was sliding a bottle of water towards you. Your sad little espresso and whipped cream treat was deflated next to it. “Are you okay?”

You reached for the water bottle, twisting the cap open and taking a long drink. “I don’t know.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “No, actually. I’m not. It somehow feels like my skin is on fire and my lungs are failing me and I’m sweaty but I’m not and - and -

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Steve spoke so calmly and evenly. “Just take a slow breath with me, okay?” You closed your eyes once more and followed his instructions as he walked you through a few breathing exercises. “That’s great, you’re doing great-

When he stopped speaking so quickly, you opened one eye to look over at him. His cheeks were a warm shade of pink and his mouth was twisted into a frown. “What?”

“It just occurred to me I didn’t get your name.” He paused, as if to consider his next thought. “Although, given what just happened with that man, you are under no obligation to tell me anything about yourself. I just.. I’d like to help.”

His genuine concern for you was surprising. You allowed a small smile to stretch across your face. “You’re very nice, Steve.”

You gave him your name and he smiled back, repeating it to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your smile turned downwards when you looked towards your phone. “I should probably get going. Again, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this mess but I appreciate the… solace.” You took a deep breath and pushed your chair back, pausing to tip the lukewarm espresso into your mouth. “I owe you one.”

You winced when you heard yourself and sighed. Why did you say that? This stranger, this friendly, broad shouldered, tall, handsome stranger who’s day you interrupted, did not need your weird backhanded flirting. In fact, even though every signal in your brain seemed on edge after, well, everything, the only thing that seemed to ground you now was the kindness of Steve. So you tried to will yourself not to ruin it with any additional commentary.

You weren’t entirely sure what had driven you down this particular street into this particular cafe and towards this particular man. But, you were certainly grateful. “Actually, do they have gift cards here? I’d love to buy you one to say thank you and -

“Are you going to walk? Wherever you’re going right now?” When you looked over, you saw that Steve had stood, too. You saw his eyes move towards the door and the far windows up the street where the man from the subway had gone. “I don’t want to overstep but I hope you’ll let me walk you home. Or far enough away to have cleared his radar.”

“I feel like I’ve already wasted enough of your time, Steve.” You truly felt worse and worse for interrupting his afternoon.

“Please, I insist.” Steve tilted his head, half a smirk on his lips. “You just said you owe me one, so. I’m cashing in the favour.”

“The favour repayment you’re cashing in is.. you doing me another favour? Do you know how favours are supposed to work?” Admittedly, you knew you would feel a lot safer having someone walk home with you. And something about Steve made you feel very secure, his presence like a comforting shield.

“C’mon,” Steve replied with a laugh, nudging his head towards the door.

When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you stopped to think. “Let’s go this way.” You turned to the right and Steve followed, staying on your shoulder closest to the street. You walked in a comfortable silence - which made you nervous at first. Then, as your steps fell into a pattern, the quiet soothed you.

You pushed your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you turned down the next block. You looked over at Steve, who turned his head towards you as you shifted. “You didn’t ask anything else about the man.. Who followed me.”

A quiet hum came from Steve. “I didn’t think I should. You seemed shaken up enough.” He shrugged, peering down at you through his glasses. “If you want to talk about it..”

“I work in this big office building in Midtown. The Clifton building?”

Steve motioned his hand diagonally. “Little bagel place downstairs? That’s right down from The Avengers tower, isn’t it?”

You nodded along. Right. Stark Tower was The Avengers Tower, now. It was the most iconic landmark on that block. “Yes. Actually, I work on the 40th floor, which makes for a great angle to see Iron Man coming in.” Your smile was fleeting when you continued on. “It’s a huge building. I work in human resources for this pharmaceutical company.. But there’s a law firm in there, too. Insurance companies, start ups.. Hundreds of people in and out all day long. Yet, that man on the subway has managed to..” You stopped yourself before your chest got too tight. “Let’s just say I’ve seen him around before.”

“Do you know his name?”

“That’s the thing!” You couldn’t help but laugh now, shaking your head in dumbfounded confusion. “No. I have no idea who he is. But he often gets on the same subway line as me, watches me from across the crowd then today..” You stopped and dragged a hand down your face. “It’s a sad truth but I would say most of my friends have been.. Touched inappropriately on the subway before. I guess it’s a weird right of passage or something..”

“Wait - what?” Steve stopped in his tracks and reached his hand out to grab yours. You stopped and looked up at his eyes, somehow both soft and dark with concern. “He touched you? What do you mean?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if his ask was authentic. When you saw the disappointment in his face, eyes flooded with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you realized his reaction was genuine. You opened your mouth to explain but suddenly it seemed impossible to find the words.

Steve let go of your hand as he absorbed your lack of response and reached for his phone. “You can file a police report, right?”

“No, no.” You stopped him, placing your hand on his as he held his phone. “Trust me, that’s just paperwork that goes nowhere. Without the guy's name, absolutely nothing would come from it anyway.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I might just adjust my work hours and change my route home for a few weeks. Maybe he’ll give up.”

Steve muttered something to himself, shaking his head. His face shifted from concern to something else, like his brain was working on a different trail of thoughts. He spoke your name quietly, drawing your attention to him again. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Steve’s kindness was a strange contrast to the entire experience on the subway. How one man could have such questionable intentions while another apologizes with sincerity for it was nearly jarring. Although, it did suddenly occur to you that Steve was just as much of a stranger.

“The worst part is.. men like that sever any opportunity for trust in other people. Especially blind trust. Like me telling you, a stranger, where I work and walking you to where I live. Funny enough though - every wire in my brain should be telling me not to and how it was a bad idea but.. I guess there is something about you.”

Steve sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he considered his response. “When you walked into the coffee shop, you could have asked the barista for help or tried to hide out in the bathroom. But you sat next to me instead. How come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, there's just something about you, Steve.”

You walked in silence again, feet falling into a pattern once more. The sky was growing darker, the air cooler. After crossing the street again, you looked at him. “How do you feel about Prezio being traded to the Orioles?” You reached out and tipped up the brim of his Yankees hat. “A tragedy, right?”

A quiet laugh escaped him as he tipped his head. “I think it was a huge mistake. Don’t you think we’ve had a hard enough year as it is?” Your silence was filled with baseball talk instead and it seemed to put both of you at ease.

“This is me.” You stopped outside of a short apartment complex, pointing a thumb to the door.

Steve smiled, one hand in the pocket of his jacket as he studied you. Was this it? After the wild rollercoaster of emotions you had spilled onto him in the last hour, parting with nothing else seemed empty. Lacking. He opened his mouth and closed it, once then twice.

Finally, you cut in. “Thanks again, Steve. Really. If you hadn’t played along and scared him away.. well, I’m not sure where I would be right now. It means a lot that you cared enough about a stranger to make sure I was safe.”

Steve sighed out your name. “I’m sorry your barometer for kindness is so low.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” Part of you wanted to do something. Say something else. Linger a tiny bit longer. But your feet shuffled and your hand reached for the door. “Have a good night, Steve.”

—

“I need a favour.”

“Well, good morning to you, sunshine. Did you lock yourself out of your computer again? FRIDAY can help with that.”

“Tony, this is serious.”

“Okay, okay. I recognize that scowl. How can I help you?”

“If I provided you some video footage from a security camera, can we track someone down? Figure out who they are? For full transparency, it’s just a civilian.”

“Sounds like we’re operating outside of the law, Rogers. Can you provide me with more context? I don’t mind the grey area - I just like the drama, too.”

Steve sighed, then reluctantly explained himself. The cafe. Your panicked message. The stalker of a man. The way you dismissed it all as a normal, unfortunate side effect of existing as a woman. His barista friend provided him with camera footage but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

Tony pinched between his eyes. “Men are scum. And I say that as someone in the practice of trying to be better. Recovering scum, if you will. I’ll see what I can do. FRIDAY, how quietly can we get into the security database at the Clifton building?”

—

Although you hadn’t lied to Steve, it occurred to you on your journey home that your guard should remain up. Which is why you had actually allowed him to walk you to your aunt’s apartment, instead of your own. She was happy to see you burst through the door and insisted you stay for dinner. That was a tiny silver lining to the whole mess.

The next day though, the thought of going into work was suffocating. So you opted to spend the day working from home instead, which your boss had been agreeable to, at least. One day rolled into two and you successfully avoided the office building until the following Monday. But then, you needed a plan. Next steps, next steps.

You took an Uber to the office early and left late at the end of the day, leaving out the back stairway and crossing a few blocks to take a different subway line home. It was unfortunate you had to cater your life to the chance you would run into this goon again, but your sense of security was slowly returning. That had to count for something.

Things shifted later that week. There was a sudden new policy sent out to all the staff in your office outlining new building ownership and training about sexual harassment policies.

“It’s a long time coming,” you heard someone mutter out in the elevator as you headed down towards the lobby.

“Guess Tony Stark just wants to own the whole block,” their coworker chirped back, pulling to loosen his tie.

There was even more commotion when you exited the elevator and walked towards the large glass doors. A team of NYPD officers were standing outside, shoving someone in the back of their cruiser. Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t be certain but from that angle, you certainly recognized the bad buzzcut. Your eyes darted around the lobby anxiously and across the room, a small crowd of suits and officers had formed near..

Tony Stark, himself.

Before you could even try to understand what was going on, you heard someone calling your name. You turned your head and saw someone who looked a lot like -

“Steve?” You took a few steps towards him, pausing to glance from him back at Tony Stark and.. “Oh my god. You’re Steve Rogers. Why didn’t you say something?”

Captain America had walked you home. Hidden behind glasses and a hat. And you always considered yourself observant.

Steve just smirked, shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Should I be thanking you for all of this chaos?”

Steve furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe I’m extrapolating here but the same day my subway stalker gets taken away in cuffs, Stark Industries buys out this building and mandates a new policy and code of conduct.”

Steve pursed his lips, swallowing back a mischievous smirk. “Here’s the thing. It occurred to me that your best choice of action after that day was changing your entire life to avoid that man. And I couldn’t help but think about how broken that system was.”

You sighed. It had occurred to you, too. While you were relieved to shake the man from your trail, your mind considered he would probably turn his attention to someone else. And that wouldn’t be fair.

“Well, Cap. Job well done. That scum of a man had priors in Jersey, too.” Tony Stark himself had walked to where you and Steve stood. His hand clapped on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re at least going to ask her out, right? I mean, I bought an entire building for you - make a move, pal.”

Steve flushed pink and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’m getting a bagel. You want a bagel?” Tony raised an eyebrow from you to Steve again, smiling proudly.

“I’m good. I recommend the poppy seed though!” You called as Tony flitted away, narrowly avoiding a proper looking blonde woman who seemed very tired.

You turned your attention back to Steve. “He seems like a lot.”

“He is.” Steve nodded, motioning his hand. “I know it’s only one thing, maybe a ripple in making a difference but.. I’m hoping one less inappropriate person on the subway can give you peace of mind.”

You smiled again. Though you had seen many appearances by Captain America on the news, seeing the man in person was different. It seemed Steve Rogers walked the walk. After parting ways with him before, though he had crossed your mind, you didn’t anticipate your menial issues leading to this.

“Thanks. Really. Even one person makes a difference.” You reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Steve.”

“I’m sorry about Tony, though. His comments about asking you out and.. that certainly wasn’t my goal here.”

“I don’t know. You just did me a huge favour getting rid of that gremlin. I think I owe you.”

Steve caught your cheeky smile and stood up a bit straighter. “Well, in that case, the Yankees are playing the Sox tomorrow night. Tony never uses his tickets and the seats aren’t half bad. What do you say?”

“You’re cashing in this favour to take me on a date? Usually people ask for help moving or a ride to the airport or something.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Sure. I guess you can take me to the game, Steve. If you ask politely, I’ll probably even hold your hand.”

After work the next day, Steve met you outside and you took the subway together to the stadium. You knew this wasn’t the end of it for you or anyone else worried about their personal boundaries being crossed. But, as you gripped the subway pole and your fingers grazed against Steve’s, you could finally breathe again. For the first time in a while, you weren’t anticipating next steps.

It was just you and the kind stranger from the coffee shop.

[yakultberry]

✪ summary: it's no surprise that doyoung spoils you on your birthday, but somehow, he still takes your breath away. ✪ pairing: law student!doyoung x reader ✪ genre(s): fluff, college au ✪ word count: 1.5k words

✪ a/n: another birthday fic i wrote, this time for my queen @secndlife !! love you, karol 💖 or should i say horanghae ADJFLAJSDLJF anyway, this is just a little snippet of a college au that we sometimes indulge ourselves with hehehe enjoy!

“You have something on your lips, baby.”

You look across the small cafe table at your boyfriend, a small smile spreading on your icing-covered lips. “Well, maybe you should help me clean it up. It’s my birthday after all.”

Doyoung, used to your antics, just rolls his eyes as he grabs a napkin and reaches over to wipe at your mouth. “Ah, so you’re doing this on purpose,” he says with a raised eyebrow, his tone stern. But you don’t miss the subtle way his lips curl up at the corners or the way his eyes instantly soften when they meet yours.

“Maybe,” you hum playfully. Not quite satisfied with his reaction, you press on. “I thought you might have kissed it off, though. It’s more romantic, you know.”

He lets out a huff, scrunching his nose at you. “Oh, so now you’re teasing me!” Even after dating for over a year, Doyoung still can’t help feeling flustered whenever you bat your lashes at him (though he definitely exaggerates his reactions just to see you giggle like you are now). Again, he fails to hide the small smile on his own face. “Just eat the rest of your cake, we have to go soon!”

“Fine, I guess the kisses can wait until later,” you say through your laughter, only to double down when Doyoung lets out another exasperated sound. To everyone else, Doyoung is a put-together, intelligent pre-law student, expertly juggling his studies, vice president duties at the fraternity, and his personal life (that’s you). Those who know Doyoung less, might call him uptight, maybe even overbearing-- it is a common misconception of pre-law majors after all.

To you though, you know that underneath his cool, type A exterior, there is a soft, nurturing side to your boyfriend. As hard as he tried to keep up his facade, the boy never really stood a chance against you; and now, all his love simply flows out through each of his actions, constantly enveloping you in a warmth you’ve never felt before. Still, you can’t help but poke fun at him at times, loving the blush that would creep on his cheeks whenever he tried too hard to hide his affection for you.

“Should I let them know that we’re on our way back now?” you ask as Doyoung finishes up paying the bill.

“Wait no, don’t!”

Just as you pick up your phone, Doyoung places a hand over yours, his eyes wide. Your own narrow at him slowly. “...Why not?” When your dear boyfriend tries to only respond with a smile that more resembles a grimace, it is suddenly your turn to be stern. “Baby.”

“Well, I might have told Johnny and Lily that this was going to be a surprise party. Yuta and Daisy, too.”

You blink. “Doyoung, you do know that to throw a surprise party, the person has to be, you know, surprised. Also, you know I hate surprises!”

“Well yes, that’s why I told you that we’re having a party,” Doyoung explains. He takes your hand in his as you exit the cafe, simply walking up the street to get to your apartment. “I just thought it would be funny to tell Johnny and Lily that they had to go to the apartment early to decorate it before you arrive or something.”

“Oh my god.” The both of you meet eyes with mutual shit-eating grins. For the past summer, the two of you had been persistently trying to set up your two friends to confess their (very obvious) feelings for each other. As the months go on, one of your forms of entertainment has been creating situations where they could be alone. “How long have they been there for?”

“Maybe two hours?”

“Nooo, that’s probably the longest yet!” you cackle heartily, squeezing his hand in yours out of habit. “Oh god, this is why I love you.”

“I know, I know, I’m a genius,” Doyoung sing-songs, chuckling beside you.

“Wait, but if we walk in and find them making out on the couch, I will lowkey fight you,” you deadpan, only half joking. As much as you wanted the two to finally get together, you did not want to see them sucking face in your home. Where you live.

“You promise?”

“Shut up!” Your laughter echoes against the tall buildings lining the street.

The late afternoon sun streams between the gaps of the skyscrapers and washes the apples of your smiling cheeks in a warm summer glow. Although the fall semester has yet to begin, there are many young people bustling about, and your shoulder brushes against Doyoung’s as you leisurely stroll up the sidewalk. It’s moments like these that make him stop and remember how lucky he is to have someone as radiant as you.

He lifts your clasped hands to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you too, by the way.”

“Hmm, you better.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your apartment, the both of you excitedly talking about your plans for the evening up until you get on the elevator.

“I texted them we’re on the way up, but Yuta said they’re not ready,” Doyoung laughs.

“It’s fine, I already know anyway!” you say, impatient to start the night’s festivities already. According to Doyoung, he had even bought a table at one of the swankiest clubs in the city, and you did not plan on walking in even slightly sober.

“No but,” Doyoung whispers as you approach the door of your apartment. “You still have to act surprised when we go in, okay? They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“Ugh, fine!”

You can faintly hear frantic whispers and a small commotion behind your apartment door when you reach it, even making out a ‘Johnny, you can’t fit there!’ before everything seems to go still. Doyoung opens the door for you after a moment, and there is a short moment of silence before the lights flash on and streamers are popped.

“SURPRISE!” your friends cheer in unison. You place a hand over your chest in your best attempt to look shocked, though a genuine smile does spread on your face when you see them all there to celebrate with you

“Haha, say hi to the camera!” Johnny, a tall guy with a knack for photography, yells, capturing the exact moment you walk in.

Before you can say anything, your best friends, Lily and Daisy, pull you further into the apartment, which is elaborately decorated with balloons and streamers. There is even a shiny inflated ‘26’ hung on the wall. You can’t help but look at your friends with a pout. “You guys did all of this?”

“Of course we did, bestie!” Lily beams at you, clinging onto your arm. “But thank god you’re here, I was alone with Johnny for so long because Yuta and Daisy got here late.” You laugh at the dirty look she shoots over at Daisy, who simply shrugs.

“We were picking up the drinks and got a little distracted when we were on the way over!”

“Oh right, distracted--”

“Anyway, we brought tequila!” Daisy chirps, flashing the unopened bottle to you. You grin back. Your friends really know you. “Let’s get this party started!”

The pre-game starts off strong with everyone taking shots at your insistence. About three shots later, everyone is in a good mood to start getting ready to leave for the club (except Lily, who seems to already be there from the way she is dancing). Johnny attempts to copy her moves, causing Yuta and Daisy to fall over each other as they laugh loudly. You’re about to join the impromptu dance floor when you feel a hand slip into yours.

You barely have time to smile at Doyoung before he twirls you around, leaving you giggling and breathless. Then, without a word, he guides you out onto the balcony, where he pulls you into his arms. There is something sobering about the soft night air, which isn’t quite the vibe you’re going for. Your laugh cuts through the stillness of the atmosphere. “Doyoung, what are you--”

The way he is looking at you with so much affection makes your heart do a somersault in your chest. “Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers in that delicate, melodic voice of his. Suddenly, he pulls away so that you see that he is holding a large, flat case. He hands it to you, eyes sparkling excitedly. Your eyes, on the other hand, suddenly prick with several tears.

“Wh-what is this?”

“A surprise. Open it!”

With shaky hands, you open the case to reveal a beautiful, gold necklace with a simple diamond-encrusted pendant. You gasp. “Doyoung, you--” your voice gets caught in your throat. “You got this for me? It’s gorgeous, but you really sh-shouldn’t have. I--”

“Yes, I should have,” he laughs, seeing how emotional you’ve gotten. Doyoung pulls you into his embrace and presses a soft kiss to your temple before looking down to meet your eyes. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you whisper hoarsely, leaning up to peck him on the lips. You let out a sniffle. “You spoil me.”

“Of course I do, you’re my baby,” he says matter-of-factly. You giggle through your tears and hug him tighter.

And as beautiful as the necklace is, you can’t help but feel that being loved by Kim Doyoung is the best surprise present that life has given you.