#Some of the bolding ones I was unsure how to answer as I tend to look at too many aspects of things to choose between them

[littleduck46]

This wonderful, inventive ask game designed and tagged by @futurepirateking4271 (To whom I am growing extremely fond of). 

Get to Know Your Followers Friends

Rules: Complete the open-ended questions/phrases, then bold the phrase that better describes you/your preferences in the list below! Tag whoever and however many people you’d like!

Name: Lilli 

Favorite Card Game(s): I love playing cards because I often win against my family. I am good at risk assessment and planning ahead. So Euchre and Rummy. I also enjoy Trash while waiting for something like a plane or a show to start. 

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: I’d say probably mint chocolate chip or strawberry or anything with caramel. Although I have cut soda out of my diet mostly for years now, I cannot quit ice cream for more than a month. 

Favorite Season: The time between Summer and fall and winter and spring. I love to watch the world shift around me. It’s like a reassuring pat on the back that change is both inevitable and sometimes cleansing/growing. 

Favorite Holiday: Halloween or Christmas (for the opposite reason people might think.) Halloween because I enjoy the decorations and watching people grow passionate about their costumes. Christmas because I enjoy gift-giving and eating cinnamon rolls. 

Favorite Fruit: Apples for availability, watermelon or strawberries for taste. I do love a homemade apple pie or apple crisp so I may be biased. 

Last Dream You Remember: The last dream I remember suitable for sharing I was walking somewhere in the rain, ran into an old friend and a not so old one. I realized I only cherished one because they reminded me of the other. We smiled, we hugged, and I will always cherish the dreams they pass through. It’s the only way I imagine looking into those eyes again. 

Song of Choice at the Moment: Do You Want To Know A Secret by the Beatles or Talk To Me by Sunny and the Sunglows. 

Favorite Book(s)/Series: Favorite book is the Westing Game, favorite book series is embarrassingly the Vladimir Todd series. I haven’t read them in years but I liked them enough to hunt down almost the entire set. 

Favorite Show(s): Psych, Supernatural, House M.D., Criminal Minds (Season 3-10), Parks and Recreation, Star Trek (Original) 

Favorite Movie(s): Lord of the Rings(all but Two Tours to be specific), Mr. Right, Guardians of the Galaxy (Sorry but I actually enjoy marvel movies...forgive me), Four Brothers, and definitely Sound Of Music. 

Your Mario Character: Usually Waluigi; I have no excuse. 

・・・

Early Bird // Night Owl 

[Chocolate] White // Milk // Dark // None

Horror // Romance (+ RomCom) // Action // Other

Waffles // Pancakes

Cursive + Script // Print

McDonald’s // Wendy’s // Burger King // I’m healthy

iPhone // Android

Tea // Coffee // Neither

Urban // Suburbs // Rural

・・・

Are you an only child? No. 

Are you allergic to anything? Somehow, no. 

Are you an artist? (all forms of art): Technically I create, but I do not like an artist’s life. I paint, I write, and I sometimes enjoy crafts or poetry, but I’m no artists. 

What’s your love language? Giving: Gift-giving, acts of service,  Receiving: Words of affirmation, physical contact, sometimes acts of service. 

What does your url mean? Sadly, it is a nickname of someone I knew and the number isn’t something I wish to discuss. Basically, I wanted my blog title to signify where I was when I started, so I could always remember how far I’ve come. It is rather effective still today. 

What inspires you? I am inspired by others. I am inspired by music as well. Whatever sparks an ache in my chest or an image in my mind. I am inspired by wanting to heal others or wanting to celebrate them and by wanting to capture my mind on something you can look back on later. My inspiration is very sentimental as, I suppose, am I. 

What are your aspirations? I wish to be fluent in Spanish, or at least never lose what I have now, and to help others in my career. Rather research-based or hands-on, I want to work with and for the human mind. 

What are your plans for after quarantine? Remind my friend that I love them through my love language. Get a job again. Start my next chapter in life. 

As always, just because I do not tag you does not mean I am not fully interested in reading your answers, so if this looks like something you genuinely want to do, tag me and do it anyways!!! That being said, @fingergunsbidean  @flannel-wearing-warrior@deanscastiel79 @rocknrolldamnation73 @chewmintgum @superwholliganjen ect. 

Blank Template:

Get to Know Your Followers Friends

Rules: Complete the open-ended questions/phrases, then bold the phrase that better describes you/your preferences in the list below! Tag whoever and however many people you’d like!

Name:

Favorite Card Game(s):

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor:

Favorite Season:

Favorite Holiday:

Favorite Fruit:

Last Dream You Remember:

Song of Choice at the Moment:

Favorite Book(s)/Series:

Favorite Show(s):

Favorite Movie(s):

Your Mario Character:

・・・

Early Bird // Night Owl

[Chocolate] White // Milk // Dark // None

Horror // Romance (+ RomCom) // Action // Other

Waffles // Pancakes

Cursive + Script // Print

McDonald’s // Wendy’s // Burger King // I’m healthy

iPhone // Android

Tea // Coffee // Neither

Urban // Suburbs // Rural

・・・

Are you an only child?

Are you allergic to anything?

Are you an artist? (all forms of art)

What’s your love language?

What does your url mean?

What inspires you?

What are your aspirations?

What are your plans for after quarantine?

[celestialarchon]

400+ Followers Celebration!

various genshin impact x f!reader

warnings: fluff/crack/NSFW implications, jokes and innuendos. reverse Isekai storyline and a LOT of attention on reader. SPOILERS FOR IN GAME. Archon spoilers!

As much as you tried, connecting and staying in reality was too hard. It was always the same outcome, finding yourself whisked away to another fantasy land through media. Normally your obsessions didn’t last long, but one game had completely sucked you in. Maybe it was the stress of the nightmare year 2020 or maybe it was the fact that Genshin Impact was everything you loved and more, but you couldn’t get enough. It was getting out of hand as even your roommates had began to play because of the way you romanticized the game. Acquiring most of the five star characters, building several strong teams, and finishing almost all the quests in roughly 5 months.

As an insomniac, it was easy to grind through the game until the sun came up. Sometimes you wondered if it was strange that an adult would be so enamored with a game but shrugged it off. It’d been a hellish year, you deserved to treat yourself.

Yet another night spent entirely on the dreamy land of Teyvat. You yawned and stretched as the sun peaked through the blinds and cursed yourself for not noticing the passing time. Removing your head set, you yawned again, feeling a wave of drowsiness wash over you. It was strange, you’d only been up one night and you were already so tired. Your home was quiet, all the roommates sound asleep as you crept into your bed under the covers. The stuffie you adored so much was soon in your arms as you drifted off, wishing to dream of traveling the world of Teyvat.

An extremely loud crashing sound woke you from your deep sleep. Instinctively you shot up, your arm moved on its own aiming for the space around you and swinging quickly and forcefully. Your fist made contact with something and you shrieked as the strange shadow crumpled. You flew out of your bed and away from the safety of your covers, grasping for the light switch.

Your panicked screeches only grew louder as the figure on the floor groaned and stood upright, still fumbling for the lights. Fingertips finally brushed the switch on the wall and you flipped the lights on. The sudden brightness blinded you for a minute and the mystery person as well. It hit you how stupid it was to turn on the lights in your room as soon as your eyes adjusted. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you rushed to the door. You could hear heavy footsteps from the other room. Other people were home you needed to get to them.

“Shiiiiit,” The strange person groaned again, “I drank too much.”

The voice was familiar and made you freeze for a moment. Mentally slapping yourself you darted out of your room but ran straight into a wall. Well, that’s what it felt like, but there wasn’t a wall outside your door. The force of the collision knocked you on your ass and you yelped as you hit the floor.

“Oh? What’s this?” The supposed wall turned to look at you, eyebrows arched as he stared down at you.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as you looked up at the familiar man. That smooth voice, the long hair, the eyepatch. This had to be some sort of weird dream. No matter how hard you tried to move, your body wouldn’t obey. You heard steps from behind you and glanced back to see another Mondstadt troublemaker. A disgruntled anemo archon was slowly approaching you.

“Ehe, fuck, she hit me hard.” Venti giggled nervously.

“Poor thing,” Kaeya held his hand out to you, “Did the mean little twink scare you?”

The room was spinning, so you took the cryo pirate’s hand. Your jaw was probably still on the floor. His grip was strong and cool, it was bringing you back down to the reality of the situation you were in. Oh, the irony. You were not dreaming. Awestruck, you peered behind Kaeya into your living room to see even more Genshin characters just vibing. The esteemed geo archon was drinking from your favorite mug, two troublesome harbingers bickered in the corner of the room, a certain librarian was flipping through your books, both travelers were attempting to learn how to play uno. It was unreal. A pirate was flirting with a silver haired beauty.There was an astrologist examining your fish tank, an alchemist and a child terrorist asleep on your floor, and a fucking adeptus perched on your couch like a gargoyle.

Your roommates were nowhere in sight and your home was crowded by your fictional lovers. The absolute chaos of it all sent you over the edge. High pitched, clearly unstable laughter erupted from you. What else could you do? Cry? That wouldn’t change anything. All eyes shifted to you as you leaned on the wall, clutching your abdomen and giggling like a madwoman. Kaeya shifted away from you, allowing the others to get a good look at you.

Finally composing yourself, you stood up straight and introduced yourself, “Hello, why are you invading my home?”

“Hey girlie! I’m Childe,” The cheery harbinger nearly skipped up to you shaking your hand, “but you can call me daddy.”

Your face reddened at his bold introduction but you clicked your tongue avoiding his eyes.

“Hello, cutie. I’m Lisa.”

“Albedo, and this is Klee.”

“I tend to go by Zhongli.”

“Beidou! The lovely lady by my side is Ningguang.”

“Adeptus Xiao.”

They all introduced themselves so politely, you almost felt bad for acting a bit crazy. However, that feeling was quickly swept away by Kaeya and his sharp tongue.

“Kaeya, but I believe you already know that,” he smirked at you, “May I ask why you aren’t wearing any pants?”

“Oi, what?” You looked down and gasped.

Venti’s drunk ass had sent you into fight and flight mode so you had forgotten all about your night time attire. You were in an oversized Genshin Impact shirt without any pants on. Shoving Venti out of your way, you rushed to your room to dig for pants. Oh, how you wished you hadn’t forgotten about laundry. You hastily grabbed a pair of shorts that really didn’t do much except cover your underwear.

“I have shorts on now. You just can’t tell because of my shirt.” You declared entering the living room.

Some of the more promiscuous characters giggled at your embarrassment while Zhongli facepalmed and the most serious of them all, Scaramouche and Xiao, simply scowled. You sat on the end of your couch furthest from everybody else, nervous. Nobody had answered your earlier question. Apparently your discomfort was lost on the Adeptus Xiao, or he just didn’t care. He was in front of you in a flash, pinching your face and glaring at you.

“Why did you call us here you foolish mortal?” His tone was more annoyed than murderous.

Zhongli slapped Xiao’s hands away from your face and sat down next to you, “Be nice. She doesn’t know either.”

You nodded at this, and the room erupted in murmurs. Zhongli slipped his arm around you, patting your shoulder sympathetically. Lumine tossed the Uno cards down and glided to you, taking strands of your hair into her hands and beginning to play with it. Perhaps it’s because you played as both the travelers but the three of you seemed to silently click. Scaramouche and Childe began to argue again about something silly. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a certain bard and the charming Sir Kaeya raiding your liquor cabinet.

It was too overwhelming to argue. Lumine took her time playing with your hair while the others attempted to figure out how to go back to their own world. Xiao crept closer to you, truly like a cat. Beidou and Ningguang fawned over you and invited you into their relationship several times. You politely declined, knowing they’d have to go back to their world. It was disappointing and a bit frustrating.

Your wish came true but it was too good to be true. Albedo seemed to notice your silence. He gently maneuvered his adorable little sister off of him and approached you. His eyes were filled with curiosity, your silence only made his thoughts wander further.

“Can I experiment on you?” Albedo was blunt.

“Huh?” You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I’m not sure if that was brave or stupid,” Childe snickered, “Has he always been this bold?”

“Tch,” Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “Thats a terrible pick up line, mad scientist.”

“Leave my cutie alone!” Lisa yanked Albedo away from you defensively.

The room was filled with protest at Lisa’s words. Zhongli merely sighed and pulled you closer. Venti’s dumb ass was floating around your living room hiccuping. Xiao was wedging himself between you and the arm of the couch. It was insane. Beidou and Ningguang noticed the two Liyue men snuggling up to you and marched over to the three of you.

Ningguang tried to pull you away from them while Beidou aggressively smacked at Xiao. Xiao was hissing at the beautiful captain and Zhongli was attempting to intervene. You shoved them out of your way and stood up, panicked by the attention. Lisa caught you as you tripped over your own feet but landed face first into her chest. She stroked your hair but was interrupted by Albedo grabbing your wrist and mumbling about experiments. The single moment Childe and Scaramouche got along was to pull you from Albedo but it became a quick tug of war over you.

Somehow, Klee was still asleep and Kaeya was just watching all of it go down.

“Cheeeeeeeeers, bitch bitches,” The Knight slurred.

“Enough.” Lumine and Aether both intervened.

Aether held his hand out to you, “You don’t have to pick now, but please say you’ll come with us?”

“You belong in Teyvat,” Lumine smiled at you warmly.

“So,” Aether continued “What do you say, outlander?”

All eyes were on you as the words left Aether’s lips. What would you do?

[seriouslysnape]

Moonlight Dip

Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Sexual content (super brief).

Word Count: 2,588

“We’re going swimming.”

Hogwarts was always desolate and quiet at this time of night. The only person who was supposed to be stirring was Filch, Mrs. Norris, and possibly Professor Snape keeping an eye out for any students who had grown bold enough to break curfew. Most students didn’t bother trying to sneak around the castle at night. Not because they were afraid of getting caught, but because if they DID get caught, they’d have to deal with Filch’s overly strict behavior. Honestly, that was a punishment in and of itself. 

Which was why Neville just couldn’t seem to figure out why you were leading him through the dark corridors, moving like a woman on a mission. You had crept into his dorm around midnight or so, pouncing on his bed and shaking him from his gentle slumber. You barely waited for him to wake up before you were whisper-shouting at him that you had somewhere for the two of you to go. He never minded a surprise visit from you, but he also wasn’t very keen on attempting to slip out undetected. Still, his curiosity won out.

“Hey, uh, flower?” He whispered, not knowing where Filch might’ve been.

“Yes, Neville?” You whispered back, peering your head around the corner to check for anyone coming. 

“Where are we going exactly? And why are you in your robes?” He questioned, feeling a bubble of nervousness in his chest.

Truth be told, Neville felt a little underdressed. He was clad in his pajamas bottoms and an old t-shirt that he only used to sleep in. You looked back at him with a smile, his heart leaping at how beautiful you looked under the illumination of the Lumos you had uttered from your wand. Neville had learned to be more spontaneous after he had begun dating you. You were as sweet and respectful as anyone, but you definitely had a wild side that sometimes shaved some years off of Neville’s life. He wasn’t sure what to think of it at first, but over time he found that he loved all of your silly shenanigans. Even the ones that had gotten you both in hot water before. 

“I told you, Nev. It’s a surprise!” You answered, squeezing his hand that was interlaced in yours, “It won’t be a surprise anymore if I tell you.”

Neville made a puzzled, yet thoughtful look as he racked his brain of possible ideas. He thought that maybe that you were daring to venture to Hogsmeade for a late night snack. Every now and again, you’d convince Neville to help you with sneaking into Honeydukes after hours to snag a few treats (don’t worry, you always left the right amount of money on the counter to pay for it). 

However, his theory was proven wrong when he realized that you were taking him past the courtyard and in the general direction of the Quidditch field. He was glad that it was well into spring now, and the nights were warm with the days. You didn’t play Quidditch though, and neither did he. So he couldn’t fathom why you were headed that way.

“The Quidditch fields are always dark this time of night. There’s no way we’ll be able to see.” Neville pointed out, mumbling under his breath when he almost tripped on a loose rock. 

You turned to look at him again, another smile plastering on your face. 

“Then it’s a good thing that we aren’t going there.” You replied.

Sure enough, you kept walking towards your desired locating, keeping your antsy boyfriend in tow. About the time that Neville had given up on trying to figure out where you were taking him, his question was answered. The lake was always so pretty at night, and tonight was no exception. The moon was only a phase away from being full, but still offering enough light to where the two of you could somewhat see. The reflection bounced beautifully off of the dark lake, creating glittering ripples in the water when it was agitated from it’s still position.

You let go of Neville’s hand once you were standing on the bank, crouching down to untie your shoelaces. Neville stood still, his arms at his side rather awkwardly. He wasn’t picking up on your plan just yet.

“I didn’t know that you like to fish.” Neville said aloud, not bothering to whisper anymore since there was no chance that anyone would be out here.

“I don’t.” You giggled, removing your shoes and socks.

Neville’s eyebrows raised, still oblivious even as your fingertips worked at untying the cord around your robes. Well, he WAS oblivious, until it was literally right in front of his face.

“Then why are we- oh my God, what are you doing?” He cut himself off when your robes fell to the grass, revealing your bra and knickers underneath.

Neville was glad that it was mainly dark outside, because his sudden deep blush would’ve been painfully obvious otherwise. You smirked at the bashful boy who was frozen in place, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“We’re going swimming.” You announced, reaching for his hand again. 

Except he didn’t take your hand. He wasn’t on board with this idea at all.

“Oh no. No, no, no. I draw the line at swimming naked!” He rattled off, taking a step away from you.

You weren’t offended in the slightest, and you were even rather amused at his skittish behavior. This was nothing new to you.

“I’m technically not naked.” You reminded him calmly.

“You’re in your knickers!” He hissed back, his eyes widening as he actually took a second to look at the lacy material.

“Exactly. Which equals not naked.” You returned, fighting the urge to burst into laughter.

“Nope!” He protested, sitting down on the grass instead, “I’ve defended us for getting caught sneaking off for Chocolate Frogs and breaking into the library at 3 o’clock in the morning. But I will not try to explain why we were in the lake naked.” 

Neville seemed adamant about staying put where he was. He was tempted to get up and leave, but there was no shot in hell that he was going to leave you out here by yourself. He was perfectly fine with sitting off to the side and observing from a safe distance.

“You see me in my underwear all the time, Nevy,” You said, not really believing that the lack of clothes was what he was timid about, “Is it the ‘nakedness’ or the critters that sometimes live in the lake?”

Neville was frightened of a lot of things, and while he tended to love animals, aquatic animals were an exception. Fish and water-based bugs freaked him out for some reason that even you didn’t quite understand. The only animals that lived in and around water that he liked were frogs and toads. The only aspect of the lake that he might enjoy (aside from seeing you wet and half-naked) were the plants that were undoubtedly growing below the surface.

“Maybe both...” He murmured, resting his forearms on top of his knees that were pulled into his chest, “Regardless, I’m staying right here.”

You shrugged your shoulders, believing your intuition that said that he’d be in the water with you in less than fifteen minutes.

“Suit yourself.” You told him before making a graceful entrance splash into the water.

He watched as you plunged in, your entire frame disappearing under the water that looked black due to the inky color of the sky. Neville felt his nerves get fired up when you went under, a slight anxiety in his gut that you might not come back up. The lake wasn’t super deep by any means, only coming up to just below your hip. Neville knew that it was possible to drown in any depth of water, which was why he became a bit on edge.

Thankfully, though, you emerged from below the water before he could get too worked up. He watched with interest when your hands swept your wet hair backwards, slicking it on your head. 

Neville had always found you pretty. He thought you were the most beautiful girl on the planet. While he always thought that you looked stunning, there were still times where it was much more clear to him. For instance, early in the morning when you’ve just woken up is one of his favorites. Or right before a Gryffindor party on Friday nights when you’ve taken extra time to get spiffied up. Seeing you always made his heart beat with a little more purpose. It reminded him of how much he cared for and loved you. 

And this moment now really had him swooning.

His eyes studied as water droplets dripped from your frame, soaking into your underwear and gliding down your beautiful skin. It created a shiny gleam over you, bringing out all of his favorite parts of you. He must’ve fallen into a lusty daze, because he felt himself snap back into reality when you called to him.

“You sure you don’t want to get in?” You spoke, letting your fingertips trail over the surface of the lake.

Neville shook his head in response. 

“I’m good here, tulip. Promise.” He said, still not sure if this was something he wanted to do. 

You never pressured Neville into doing things he didn’t want to do. You never wanted him to be uncomfortable around you or associate discomfort with spending time with you. However, you knew that Neville was a worrier. He was an avid overthinker and sometimes just let his nerves get the best of him. You encouraged him to live a little more, without thinking about every single possible outcome of a situation. It’s great to be cautious and aware, but life without taking some risks could be...boring. You just didn’t want Neville to grow old with you and wish he hadn’t let his head get the best of him.

You swam out towards the middle of the lake, but not so far that you couldn’t see or hear Neville. You floated on your back and played with things that you found on the mushy, sandy floor of the lake. Neville maintained a conversation with you, but found himself feeling tempted to join you. It was just swimming. It wasn’t like the two of you were trying to blow up the lake or anything. 

“How does...how does it feel?” Neville asked, stifling a giggle at how you were bouncing on your feet with your head lolled to the side to get water out of your ear.

“It’s nice. It’s not warm by any means, but it feels good.” You told him, wringing the excess water from your hair, “Changed your mind?”

Neville chewed the inside of his cheek, but he was warming up to the idea.

“I don’t even have a pair of swim trunks with me.” He argued.

You motioned towards your own body with a look of hilarity.

“Oh, and I’m wearing my swimsuit? It doesn’t matter, love. Just take off what you have on.” You instructed, getting hopeful that he was actually going to do it.

Neville stood from where he sat, stripping down to his boxers at a snail’s pace. He folded his clothes neatly, setting them next to your robes that he had also folded previously. He dipped his foot into the water, expecting it to be much colder than it actually was. It was a lukewarm temperature, something that would be refreshing on a hot summer day, but far too freezing for a frigid winter day. For his moderate spring night, it was perfect.

Neville didn’t love how the bottom of the lake felt on his feet. It was a mix of a squishy, gelatinous feeling. You reached for his hands excitedly, taking them as he waded out to where you were standing.

“So, what do you think?” You wondered, careful not to freak him out too much,

“It feels...nice. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this lake,” He admitted, “How did you even come up with this?”

“Well, you told me once that your Gran used to have a little pond behind her house that you liked to swim in during the summer. You said you enjoyed it and I thought maybe this would be something you’d like too,” You explained to him, suddenly feeling insecure about this whole thing, “I know it’s probably not the same or as fun.”

Now things really started to make sense. Neville felt the cage of butterflies flutter all into his belly whenever you did something sweet for him. Especially when it was something with sentimental value. 

Neville had undeniably fallen in love with you. Not because of your witty personality or the random adventures you liked to take him on. Those things were plenty great, and he cherished those things with everything he had. But that wasn’t what made him decide that you were his future. 

It was the pureness of your heart.

He fell for you more and more each time you did something for him. Whether it was as small as you combing your fingers through his hair when he was asleep on your chest in the common room, or as big as the time you devised a plan to throw a surprise birthday party for him at his Gran’s house. No matter what it was, you never hesitated to spend your energy, time, and love on making him happy.

“I did always like that pond, flower. But...you want to know something?” He said smoothly, with just the faintest hint of shakiness in his tone, “This is a lot better.”

He pulled you in close at the sight of your brightening eyes, bringing you down with him as he sank down to his knees under the top of the water.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” You pressed on.

“Because you’re here.” He mewled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

His descent of kisses trailed down to your nose, to your cheeks, to your lips. His kisses were never rushed in moments like this. They weren’t ever in a rush to get to the point or so rough that he didn’t have a chance to feel it. He liked to take his time with you. He liked to savor you.

“I love you, Nev. I really do.” You professed once he pulled away from you.

“I love you, petal,” He returned, going to kiss you again, but stopped when he took a big swash of lake water to the face.

He let out a startled gasp at how he was totally soaked now. It dripped from his hair, droplets rolling to the tip of his nose before falling off back into the lake. He caught your mischievous expression, your cheeks puffed out as you fought your laughter.

“Really funny, doll.” He sputtered, nonchalantly reaching around to your back and unclasping your bra with one hand. He managed to whip it off of you with ease, leaving you completely naked on top.

“Neville!” You squealed, “Give it back! That’s my favorite one!” 

Neville teased you as he held your bra high in the air above his head, chuckling as you struggled (and failed) to get it back.

“Don’t worry, love bug. I’ll take good care of it. But if you want it...” Neville paused, shimmying past you and waddling further out into the lake with a sneaky, yet innocent sneer on his face;

“You’ve got to come and get it.”

*****

Tags: @lupinsslut @writingscape @msmimimerton​ @thefilmcity​

[lightsovermonaco]

Speed and Stress: Part 2

Masterlist

Thank you to @acollectionofficsandshit for betaing, your comments on this one were unhinged gold 

Word Count: 3.1k

Recommended Vibes: “Perfect Day” by Tundra Beats

Part 1

Your brother was late. Not that anyone was surprised.

“Got the time mixed up,” he says as you climb into his absurdly tall truck. Living in Texas for three years had turned him into somewhat of a country boy, though not enough that he forgot his upbringing. He was still a blue blooded Los Angeles boy, just with a love for trucks and longhorn cattle.

“At least I wasn’t waiting for an hour this time,” you say and sling your bag to the backseat. Deciding to get right to the good stuff, you clasp  your hands together. “So! I have some news.”

Hunter grins at you. “You finally found a job?”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a pointed look. “No, dipshit. Better than that. I got us paddock passes for the whole weekend.”

“WHAT?” He jerks the wheel, horns honking at you as other drivers swerve. You grab the dash to steady yourself, laughing at his outburst. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get general admission tickets? How the hell did you get paddock passes?”

“May have met someone pretty high up at McLaren in Los Angeles,” you say, examining your nails.

“Like, Zak Brown? You met Zak Brown?” Hunter was such a fan boy, you had to laugh. His love for McLaren ran so deep he practically bled blue and orange. The only reason you watched the sport was because of him shoving it down your throat for years, but damn if you weren't glad for it.

“Daniel Ricciardo.”

Hunter choked on air but managed to stay in his lane this time. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know it was him when I met him! He was on a motorcycle and I stopped to help film a tiktok and then-”

“Of course you’d stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker for bikes.”

“Yeah well, lucky that I am, cause all I had to do was flirt to get us those passes.”

Your intention had never been to take advantage of Daniel. It was more the opposite in fact; you were just living in the moment and capitalizing on the once in a lifetime opportunity to flirt with your celebrity crush. You had to admit, it turned out better than you'd ever thought it would.

“I can’t believe you seduced Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo,” he says, shaking his head. “You astound me.”

“I didn’t seduce him!” You protest.

"Sorry my bad. You charmed him. That sound better?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. I damn near had a heart attack when I figured out it was him but he was kind enough to let me brush it off."

"Well, thank god for your two-wheeled obsession because without it, we would be watching the prix from the nosebleeds."

You laugh and shake your head. Hunter tended to have a poor filter when he was excited and tended to spew whatever was on his mind. "Just watch your tongue this weekend, alright? I'd rather embarrass myself than have you do it for me."

Hunter gives a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

**********

You'd stuffed five different outfits in your bag in preparation for the grand prix weekend. In theory, it shouldn't be hard to decide what to wear. But Friday morning you changed clothes so many times you lost count. No matter what combination you tried you weren't satisfied.

Finally, you give up and settle on a McLaren polo and denim shorts. Simple and comfortable, but form fitting enough to catch Daniel's eye should you run into him.

You knew you shouldn't, but you pull out your phone to text him anyway.

Thanks again for the tickets. Let me know if you've got any free time so I can properly thank you!

You hit send before your brain has the chance to overanalyze the message. You check your phone obsessively the entire drive to the circuit, only half expecting a response. You tuck your phone in your pocket when you get to the gates, determined not to let it get to you. Daniel warned you he would be busy, and you knew that responding to you was likely on the low end of his list of priorities.

Hunter gets you to the circuit a half hour before they let fans in and you have to listen to him ramble about driver stats the entire time. Normally you don't mind; guessing who's most likely to win each Sunday is something of a competition in your household. But today, you couldn't focus enough to put any thought into your prediction, instead just blurting Daniel's name.

"You're only saying that cause he's into you," Hunter says, grinning savagely. "He struggles in Austin and you know it."

"So? He's in a McLaren this year. You saw his pace in Bahrain, and that was with a damaged floor! He'll podium for sure." You cross your arms and return his grin. "Besides, he's motivated."

"Oh, is he?"

"I told him I'd buy the winner of the United States grand prix a drink. Up to him whether it's him or Verstappen."

"Oh my god you have a date with Daniel Ricciardo?"

"Dude, chill out. It's not set in stone. Honestly, he's probably forgotten that I exist."

"Has he texted you?"

You glance down at your phone and are greeted with an empty inbox. "No. Not after the initial time so I could have his number." You shrug and pick an invisible piece of lint from your arm. "But he said he'd be too busy anyway."

"Guess we'll see once we get to will call, huh? If he's forgotten about you."

"Yeah." An odd feeling rolls through you. It feels a bit like nerves mixed with hope, but you stamp down on it. You were here to enjoy yourself. The trip of a lifetime had been handed to you on a golden platter and you were wont to let something as trivial as nervousness ruin it.

Bells chime as you step into the blissfully cool will call office. A blonde woman with a bit too much blush dusted on her cheeks greets you with a smile. 

"What can I do for you?"

"Picking up some tickets that were left for me by a driver?" You try, unsure of the proper procedure. "I don't have a paper or anything."

She waves a hand in the air as if she expected as much. "All I need is your identification. They should be under the name."

"Oh uh, of course." You motion for Hunter to hand over your wallet and show the woman your driver's license.

"Great. Wait here and I'll grab those for you."

You drum your fingers on the desk while waiting for her to return. After what feels like ages she re-emerges empty handed.

"I'm not seeing anything here with your name on it," she says, her plastic smile at odds with her sincerity. "I'm afraid your tickets aren't valid until Sunday."

"Can you double check? Daniel said they'd be here-"

"So sorry. There's no record of anyone dropping tickets off for you."

You blink, holding your tongue in the face of her blunt response. "Okay. I guess ill try and get it sorted out."

Hunter breaks the tension. "Can't you call him?"

"I can't just call him, I'm sure he's busy."

"Either that or we don't get in. Just do it, he gave you his number and specifically told you to let him know if there were any problems, didn't he?"

Yes he had, but that didn't mean you wanted to disturb him. He was probably knees deep in some sort of race weekend press conference or drivers meeting and heaven forbid you interrupt.  But it was either that or you slink home disappointed and empty handed.

"Fine," you grumble, pulling out your phone with deliberate slowness. Hunter crosses his arms and tips his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well?"

"It's dialing, you good for nothing busybody-"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call," Daniel answers, voice radiating sunshine.

You cut right to the chase, not giving yourself a single second to evaluate how your heart skips. "Look, I don't wanna distract you on a race weekend but I'm at will call and they're telling me they can't find any passes left for me."

"Let me guess," he starts, raising his voice to be heard over the pneumatic tools in the background, "You're dealing with Jenny?"

Your eyes fall to the name on the woman's lanyard. She shifts under your gaze like she knew exactly who you were on the phone with. "Yep. Spot on."

"Kinda figured she would be a problem. She's got a huge crush on me and does this every time."

You fight back the strange sensation his offhand comment brings to the surface. "Oh, really?"

"I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes or so."

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Hey, no big deal. I gotta go that way anyway."

"Uh, okay. See you soon?"

"Yup. On my way."

You hang up and stare down at the phone, stunned.

"Well?" Hunter asks.

"I guess he's coming here to sort it out himself."

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Hold on. Are you telling me that I get to meet Daniel? Like right now?"

"Can you relax?" You laugh lightly. "Honestly you're gonna freak him out."

"Uh, yeah sure. No big deal, just meeting one of my favorite drivers in the minus five minutes and I'm completely unprepared. It's fine."

If you roll your eyes any harder they'd pop out of your head. "Relax. He's laid back, but I don't want you to freak out and embarrass us both."

"Excuse me," Jenny breaks in, her distaste clear. "Please move aside if you're not picking up passes."

"Er, yeah. Sorry." You shuffle awkwardly off to the side to wait. Cheesy elevator music plays and Jenny shoots you glares until the door squeaks open and the human incarnation of the sun steps inside. Your breathing stutters when the Australian shoots you a wink and a grin before sauntering up to the counter.

"Why hello there Jen," he says, and she giggles coyly. 

"Hi Daniel." She lays a hand on his forearm, the touch light and flirty. "What can I help you with?"

Daniel leans into her, whispering conspiratorially. Whatever he says has her bold smile faltering, replaced by a mask of professional cheer. Daniel shoots you another wink as the woman retreats to a back room, returning moments later with your supposedly missing passes.

"Thank you," Daniel says sweetly, taking them from her and turning to you. "I think these are yours."

"Thanks." You take the passes and hand one off to your awestruck brother. You nudge him and he comes to his senses in time to shake the hand Daniel sticks out.

"You must be the brother," he says. "I see you're a fan."

Dressed head to toe in McLaren colors, there was no other conclusion for Daniel to draw. For once your brother is the one stunned into silence so you answer for him, "Yeah, only a little. He was crushed when you left Red Bull cause Max is his other favorite driver and now he has to split his loyalties between teams."

Dan's laugh snaps Hunter out of his trance. "I know you're busy but do you think you can sign something for me?"

"Of course. How about this?" Daniel snatches the hat from Hunter's head and produces a sharpie from his pocket, signing the brim with practiced efficiency. 

"He'll be texting the group chat about that as soon as you're gone," you tell Daniel who laughs along with you.

Heat rises to your cheeks as Daniel's assessing gaze sweeps you from head to toe. "McLaren orange looks good on you."

Channeling his easy confidence you flash him a grin. "Not as good as it looks on you."

He smooths the hem of his soft shell jacket, smile turning bashful. "Anyway. I gotta run. See you Sunday after I win!"

Your eyes follow him as he jogs back through the paddock until he's swallowed by the crowd. You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. God, he was gorgeous. And he had such a big heart. It was a shame someone hadn't snatched him up yet, but then again, that meant you still had a shot, even if it was a slim one.

"So where exactly do these get us?" Hunter toys with the lanyard now placed around his neck. "It doesn't say."

"I'm guessing the McLaren lounge," you say and point to the logo on the passes. "Above the garage."

"That's the perfect vantage point for practice."

And it was the perfect view- before getting in the car Daniel walked out into the pit, suited up in his cobalt racesuit and minty helmet and glanced up. You weren't sure if he saw you or not when you waved but he gave a little salute nonetheless.

Hunter was practically glued to the bank of floor to ceiling windows for the entirety of free practice, immersing himself in the experience. You found yourself glancing at the timing tables every lap, silently hoping to see the RIC tag move up. By the end of the second session he had been fourth fastest, a few tenths behind both Mercedes and the Red Bull of Verstappen. 

By the time you make it back to Hunter's house, you're both exhausted from a full day of running up and down the paddock. The pair of you had been determined to soak up every second of it, sneaking into whatever offices you could and stealing bites off the buffets and cups of coffee. 

Saturday’s free practice and qualifying session pass in a blur of color. Daniel drags his McLaren up the ranks to qualify fourth, his best starting position so far this season. He had a decent shot at the podium- Bottas should be easy pickings and if Verstappen and Hamilton made any mistakes, Daniel might even have a shot at the win.

The excitement in the air is palpable as you both flash your badges and head back up the now familiar path to the McLaren lounge. An hour before lights out, the v6 engines rumble to life below. You venture out onto the balcony, watching and waiting for a glimpse of Daniel.

The Aussie does you one better by walking out, race suit on and helmet in hand. He chats animatedly with Michael before stopping and craning his neck upwards. Michael nudges him with his elbow but Dan ignores him, answering your tiny wave with a wink. He mimes taking a drink and you roll your eyes.

Dan throws his head back and laughs, audible over the cacophony below. He gives you one final salute before Michael drags him back into the garage.

Ten minutes later cars begin streaming out on track, Daniel taking the fourth grid place as his mechanics once again swarm him. Tire blankets are secured, keeping them warm and pliable ahead of the formation lap. Thirty seconds before the boys are released, they're peeled back off as everyone scrambles off the pavement. Verstappen leads them away down the 3.4 mile track for the formation lap. Dan does a few small power slides before taking his place on the second row.

One by one, the red lights illuminate and disappear quicker than your blink. Daniel gets away clean while Bottas stumbles out of the gate, leaving himself wide open for Daniel's overtake on his right side. Cheers erupt around you, your brother going so far as to lift you off your feet.

Maybe Dan had a shot at winning after all.

A nail-biting 38 laps pass without a change in the order of the top three. Finally, a mistake in Max's pit stop sees him return to track third, just behind Daniel. The McLaren driver puts up the fight of his life, late braking at every corner and defending his position for all he was worth. Lewis was twenty seconds ahead- he wouldn't be winning but he could defend his second place spot.

Lewis Hamilton, race winner for the seventh time at the Circuit of the Americas!

Daniel Ricciardo crosses the line second, Max Verstappen takes home that last podium step for Red Bull. An astonishing fifty six laps here today in Austin!

The box erupts around you, a roar of cheers making it impossible to hear what else Crofty and Brundle were saying. But it didn't matter as Daniel raises his fist when he swings back into parc ferme, jumping out to be congratulated by his team. It was his first podium for the papaya team and you can tell it means the world to them.

"Looks like you're taking Lewis out for a drink," your brother teases. "Told you he wouldn't win."

"He almost won," you counter. "But hey, I'm not above asking Lewis on a date. Could you imagine? I mean, he would never agree, but still. It would be a hell of a date."

If you crane your neck from the balcony, you can just barely see the podium. Everyone goes quiet for the anthems and erupts again when the champagne is sprayed. The McLaren team chant for a shoey, which Daniel obliges. He sits to unlace his mint green boot and pours champagne into it, drinking from the boot before passing it to Max who joins in on the fun. 

Just as quickly as it began, the celebrations ebb. Daniel is the first to leave the podium which seems odd, given that the PR department surely wants his first big win for the team to be well documented.

Your phone buzzes a second layer. You fish it out of your pocket, a Cheshire grin splitting your face.

"Shouldn't you be busy celebrating?"

"I am," Dan starts, sounding breathless. You can barely hear him over the sound of the crowds chants behind him. "But I want to celebrate with you. I know I didn't win, but how about you let me buy you a drink instead?"

You barely hear anything beyond his first sentence. I want to celebrate with you. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real.

"Um, I'm sorry, you want to celebrate by going out with me instead of your team?"

"If you'll let me. Hey- just text me okay? I can barely hear you over everyone screaming my name. It may be going to my head."

You laugh, drawing the attention of the vip's nearest you. You give an apologetic smile and move further from the crowd. "I'll text you an address. See you later, second place."

[honeyju]

home run; lee minho

The four times you try to ask Lee Minho to the winter formal, and the one time he asks you. 

genres: fluff, friends to lovers au, high school au, sports au (baseball player minho!!)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: merry christmas!! this is a christmas collab that i’m doing with my friend alice @jjacob​ in which we write for each other’s ult biases! (mine is juyeon, so if you’re interested in the boyz, i recommend reading her story here, especially since our storylines are a bit connected!) i had a lot of fun learning more about minho during the writing process, and i hope this story represents him well <333

TRY ONE: KEEP IT SIMPLE. 

If there’s anyone in the world who knows Lee Minho better than you do, it’s Lee Juyeon. 

The two of them have been joined by the hip for as long as you can remember, and if Minho is the relentless tease, spirited and carefree, Juyeon is the gentle thinker, all sweet smiles and wise words. So that’s how you end up frantically dialing his number at nearly one in the morning, too panicked to consider the possibility of him being asleep. You wait with bated breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times before Juyeon picks up the phone, his breathy laugh greeting you instantly. 

“I was waiting for this.”

Juyeon’s words cause you to let out a small noise of surprise, and his chuckle sounds in your ear, a little choppy and distant-sounding due to the poor connection, but bright nevertheless.

“What do you mean you were waiting for this?”

“Silly girl,” Juyeon says, and you can tell he’s grinning despite not being able to see him. “Don’t think I didn’t see you look at him when they announced the dance this morning.”

Your face turns red as you recall the mention of the winter formal during the school announcements and the way your head had immediately turned to Minho’s. You were certain that no one else had noticed the longing upon your face when you looked towards your close friend, but hearing Juyeon now leaves you unsure. 

“Was I that obvious?” You groan, burying your face in your hands out of embarrassment. 

“I wouldn’t worry that much, it wasn’t too apparent,” Juyeon assures you, and yet the spark of doubt in your mind still lingers. 

“You think he knows?” You question as you run your fingers through your hair. 

“That you like him? I don’t think he’d get that from just one glance.” Perhaps he’s right, for you know that Juyeon is just naturally more perceptive than others, and the things he picks up on don’t tend to be the same as what others notice. 

“I hope you’re right. This isn’t how I wanted him to know,” you groan.

“Oh? So you’re planning on telling him? That’s why you called, right?” You know Juyeon’s teasing you by the tone of his voice, and you resist the temptation to whine at him. 

“Help me ask Minho to the dance, Juyeon,” you plead, trying to let every ounce of your desperation show in your tone, praying that his response will be yes. There’s a pause, and you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation as you await his next words.  

“Well, I can’t exactly ask him for you,” he starts, “but I’ll try to give you some advice.”

“Thank you, Juyeon,” you breathe in relief, switching the call to speaker mode so you can peel it away from your cheek.

“Don’t mention it. First things first, though . . .”

Juyeon trails off without an explanation, and you understand why a few moments later when you catch a flicker of light erupting from your phone out of the corner of your eye. When you lift it up a little higher in your hands, you see that Juyeon has turned his camera on, his face just slightly too close to the camera and his smile filling the screen. You rush to turn yours on as well, switching on a lamp so your face can be seen in the near darkness of the room. After an exchange of waves, Juyeon clears his throat, and even through the blurry quality you catch the blaze in his eyes that suggests he’s gotten idea.

“Y/N, Minho’s at your place right now, isn’t he?” Juyeon asks, and there’s something about his tone that strikes you as a bit too bold for your liking. 

“Well, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, “but I think he’s asleep right now.”

“How about you just ask him whenever he’s awake?” Juyeon suggests, and you raise your eyebrows incredulously as you watch him shrug his shoulders like he’s just told you to do the easiest thing in the world.

“Are you insane?” You shriek, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when you realize how loud you’ve gotten. Juyeon only laughs, his eyes morphing into crescents and his bunny-like smile widening. “You think I should just ask him like that, no preparations or anything?”

“Trust me, Y/N. It’s nice to make things special, but I think that Minho will appreciate your honest confession more than anything else.” Juyeon’s advice is laced with sincerity, and you don’t need to look at his face in the camera to know that he wants the best for you. 

“I’m blaming you if things go wrong, Lee Juyeon,” you sigh reluctantly. “But I suppose there’s not really any other way to do it.”

“Give it a try,” he encourages. “I think he’ll like it.”

“Thanks, Juyeon. For picking up so late and for the advice,” you tell him genuinely, and he smiles. 

“Anytime, Y/N.”

With that, the two of you hang up, and your head automatically drops to the table to rest in between your arms.

“Just ask him whenever he’s awake,” you mutter to yourself, “How am I supposed to do that? Oh, good morning Minho, breakfast is over there, and by the way, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the winter formal with me?” 

The words sound stupid no matter how you say them, and you can’t stop yourself from the feeling of hopelessness that strikes you as you trudge back to the bed where you find Minho laying peacefully on his side. You smile, tilting your head as you watch him for a moment until he suddenly turns over so he’s lying on his back, blinking repeatedly until his eyes focus on you.

“You’re back?” His words are hoarse and followed by a yawn, which you laugh at softly. 

“Sorry, Minho, did I keep you up?” 

Minho says nothing and instead pats the space beside him on the bed, to which you oblige, instantly climbing in to lay next to him. He inches closer to you, resting his head next to your shoulder and quietly snuggling into your side. Trying to ignore the way your heart has sped up in response to his figure latching onto yours, you recall Juyeon’s words from before, realizing that he’s awake right now, and perhaps you have a chance. 

“Minho?” Your voice comes out in a whisper, and you don’t dare to look at him out of fear for your heart. 

“Hmm?” Minho’s response is sleepy, slightly muffled from your shoulder but unbelievably soft. 

“Are you by any chance going with someone to the winter formal?” You ask hesitantly, squeezing your eyes shut out of embarrassment. Minho makes a small noise of disagreement, and you can feel his head shaking against your side as if in extra confirmation.

A relieved sigh falls from your lips, but your next words get stuck in your throat when you come to the realization of just how scary it is to confess. You can’t stop the swarm of worries that hit you, overcome by the question of whether he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend, and if asking him to the dance will jeopardize your relationship with him. You know that you can’t hold your feelings in forever, though, and you think of Juyeon’s kind motivation when you say your next words.

“D’you maybe wanna go to the formal together?”

There’s a heavy silence, your question lingering in the air unanswered, and your heart sinks in your chest at the lack of response. 

“Minho?” You try again quietly. Dread overtakes you as you guess that perhaps his silence is a form of his rejection, and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to get yourself out of this one. When you turn on your side to face him, however, you find that he’s already fallen back asleep, light snores emitting from his parted mouth. A small smile creeps up your face as you unconsciously lift your hand to stroke his hair, mindlessly dragging your fingers through the silky strands. He leans into your touch, eyes still closed as he mumbles meaningless words out of fatigue and shifts so he’s closer to you.

Maybe tomorrow, you think to yourself, resting your head on the top of his and letting your eyes fall shut as sleep overtakes you.

TRY TWO: MAKE IT SPECIAL.

Your heart pounds as you tug the door open to the café, peeking inside to find the area mostly empty save for a handful of students at the far end. You thank the heavens for appearing just on time, the familiar sight instantly soothing your nerves. You set the large plastic bag you’d brought along with you on one of the tables, laughing a little as you begin to empty it of its contents one by one. 

“Look at you, Y/N,” you mumble to yourself, “bringing this food and getting all dressed up for a man.” 

The last item in the bag makes you smile, despite yourself, and you pull out the small box of chocolates that you had bought in the morning, setting it down to complete the collection. You marvel at the assortment of treats you’d gotten for him, shaking your head as you sit down to try and calm yourself from the slight tension of it all. Glancing up to check the time in one of the clocks hung up on the wall, you realize with jittery anticipation that he’ll be arriving soon. 

Five minutes pass, and he’s nowhere to be seen. 

You think nothing of it until another ten minutes pass, and you begin to wonder what’s holding him up, trying not to let the feeling of unease get to you as you assure yourself that he might just be running a bit late. Your foot begins to tap quietly against the tiled floor, an anxious habit of yours you’d never managed to quite get rid of. 

Thirty minutes pass, and you pull your phone out from your side pocket, unlocking it to stare at his contact in part hesitation and part concern.

Should I call him?

You weigh out your options, wondering if you’ll sound too demanding if you call to ask if something’s wrong. However, your phone appears to solve the problem for you, the shrill sound of its ringing interrupting you from your thoughts. You jump at the sudden noise, but accept the call instantly upon seeing the caller ID. 

“I was just about to call. Is everything okay?” You ask, and your eyes widen in worry at the sound of Minho panting on the other end.

“Y/N,” he breathes, “I—I’m sorry. Coach is keeping us in an extra hour, and—”

“Slow down, Minho,” you urge, “first catch your breath.”

He hums in agreement, and your face falls when you process his words, realizing the true reason he called. Although you know he’s not the one to blame, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that creeps up inside of you as you glance down at the chocolates and favorite foods of his sitting on the table. 

“You’re saying you can’t make it today, right?” The words come out softer than you mean for them to, and Minho sighs regretfully. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know we have that big game coming up tomorrow, and—look, if you want, I can leave practice.” His voice is gentle, apologetic, and tears sting your eyes upon hearing how willing he is to risk getting kicked from the team for you. 

“No, you can’t,” you shake your head frantically. “I’m not letting you suffer the consequences of that for something this small. Go have fun, okay? We do this regularly anyways, we can just meet up next time.”

You hear a rustle on his end, followed by the voices of his teammates calling out for him. “Are you sure?” Minho asks, a twinge of concern in his tone. 

“I’m sure! Now go, they’re calling you,” you encourage, trying to sound as cheerful as you can to convince him. 

It works, to your relief, for Minho’s next words are bright. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice before he ends the call. 

There’s a moment of silence as you look at the goodies once more, before your eyes land upon the box of chocolates, and you pry the lid open to find them already beginning to melt. Reminding yourself that you won’t be seeing him today anyways, and that there’s no use wasting a perfectly good box of chocolates, you pop one of them in your mouth. The corners of your lips tug upwards at the savory taste, and you let out a deep exhale as you remember that you’re not out of ideas just yet. 

“More for me, I guess,” you mutter, trying not to lose hope. “On to try three!”

TRY THREE: GO ALL OUT. 

The sign leaning against your legs serves as a constant reminder of just how whipped you are for Minho, and at times it amazes even you just how far you’re willing to go for him. Making sure no one else can see it, you take yet another glimpse at the cardboard sign you spent the entirety of last night making, lifting it enough for it to rest in your lap. You stare at the bolded words drawn on the surface in capital letters, surrounded by small designs and stickers in a variety of colors. 

I might strike out asking, but will you go to the winter formal with me?

An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of your throat and you find yourself yet again bewildered by the sheer cheesiness of it all. You can’t bring yourself to raise it, however, telling yourself that tensions are too high right now and that you’ll show him later when there’s no potential of the sign distracting him. You set it back down at your feet, and you look past the sea of people to search for Minho in the group of players on the baseball field. 

Murmurs of “the score is so close,” “we need a home run to win,” and “we’re gonna lose, aren’t we?” echo around you in the stadium, and your mind immediately flashes back to Minho’s words from before the game. 

“If I win, you have to do any one thing that I want for me.” 

You had teased him and asked him what he’d do if he lost, but Minho had only shrugged nonchalantly, telling you that he’d do anything you wanted if that was the case. 

Looking down at him on the field now, you watch as he readies himself at the batter’s box, and despite the near-impossible chance of him securing the team a win, something about the blaze in his eyes tells you that he won’t be losing today. Just before the pitcher can pitch the ball, he looks up towards the stands, his eyes scanning the crowd to find you. When he does, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t mouth anything, but somehow through his gaze, you already know exactly what he wants to tell you: he’s going to win. 

The pitcher steps forward, raising his leg and leaning back with the ball before he throws it with a single fluid motion. The ball spirals forward towards Minho with immense speed, and you watch breathlessly as he positions himself to hit it. He swings the bat, and a gasp leaves your mouth.

What happens next is a blur, and by the time you can process what’s happening, Minho has already tossed the bat and reached base one. You squint your eyes as you search for the ball, managing to glimpse it right before it falls outside the gates of the field. You cover your mouth with your hands in shock as you look back down to Minho just in time to watch his foot touch the second base. 

“He hit it all the way out!” Shouts and exclamations of surprise reverberate around you as the audience rises to its feet eagerly. 

Base three. 

All attempts to stop him are useless at this point, you realize, for Minho’s already making his way to the final base, his features hardened by determination. Just before he reaches the end, Minho finds you in the crowd once more. His gaze remains locked on yours as he flashes you a small grin, his foot touching the home plate at the exact same moment. 

Home run. 

For an instant, there’s nothing but dead silence, and then the entire audience erupts into applause, the noise turning almost unbearable as it rings in your ears. The edge of the sign scratches against your leg as you stand up, and you’re reminded of the dance as you impulsively grab hold of the cardboard, getting on top of your seat as you prepare to raise it. When you inspect the field one last time to ensure Minho is still there, you find that he’s lost in the arms of his teammates, all shouting excitedly and clapping him on the back among cheers.

Your shoulders slump as you realize that there’s no way he’ll be able to see your sign with all the ruckus, and you dejectedly get down from your seat, making your way off the stands and exiting the stadium. 

As you trudge home, you wonder if you’ll even be able to face him without blushing, let alone ask him to the formal. 

TRY FOUR: NO INTERRUPTIONS. 

The next time you see Minho, you’re stepping through the open door of Chan’s house, and you’re met with the sight of the entire team laughing recklessly, joking around and shoving each other playfully over a set of pizza boxes. Small decorations and streamers are hung up in colors of red and green to highlight the approach of Christmas, and something about the setting makes you feel delightfully warm. It’s somehow exactly the kind of celebration you imagined, and when you look towards the team once again, you find Minho in the center of all the chatter, just as you always do. 

When he catches you standing before them, he freezes, and his gaze morphs into something different, almost hungry, as his eyes slowly trail over your figure from top to bottom. The intensity of his stare seems to burn into you, and you watch in quiet anticipation as he separates himself from the group to walk up to you. 

There are no excuses now, you think. No interruptions, no distractions, no reasons to prevent you from asking him. 

“‘Come to the celebration party at Chan’s place, and I’ll tell you there,’” you greet, quoting his text from hours before, and Minho smiles sheepishly. “Well, I’m here now. What is it that you want?”

“You look beautiful,” is his response, and your next words are forgotten as your face goes up in flames. 

“I’m glad you think so. It took me a long time to find this dress,” you mumble, staring down at your feet to hide your blush. 

“I’m not talking about the dress,” Minho says, and your eyes widen as you look back up to search his face. He turns away before you can look too hard, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turn red. “Anyways,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes, “you told me you wanted to ask me something too, right?”

“You first,” you blurt, still too flustered from his compliment to think straight. Your words, however, are drowned out by a particularly loud screech emitting from the other end of the room, followed by the booming laughter of the rest of the team. Furrowing his brows, Minho cups his ear and leans closer to you, prompting you to repeat the words in his ear. Another series of laughs sounds from the room, and Minho takes your hands in his to bring you to a more empty section of the house. 

“Finally,” he breathes when the two of you are safe from disturbances. “I swear, they can get so loud sometimes.”

You giggle at his words. “Tell me what you want for winning,” you urge him, trying to do whatever you can to delay your turn. Minho’s face darkens, and something about the way his gaze turns intense makes your heart race.

“Look up,” he whispers, his hands tightening around yours. You obey, your eyes drifting up as you find yourself staring at what you think could be one of the most beautiful bunches of mistletoe you’ve ever seen, hanging from the ceiling and twinkling under the soft light. You gulp upon realizing its implications, your tongue swiping over your lips out of nervous habit. You look back down to face him, and you find that his expression reflects the same desire he displayed before, his eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips turn up. 

“We can’t break tradition, now can we?” He teases, leaning forward just enough for your noses to touch, his lips barely ghosting over yours so you can feel the warmth of his breath upon your face. When you close your eyes, your own lips parting, he closes the distance. 

Time seems to freeze in place as his soft lips meet yours, his hands dropping to your waist as his lips move slowly against yours. There’s a passion in his kiss that you’re reciprocating before you even know it, and a slight smile shapes his lips that you can’t help but mirror. He’s the first to pull away, resting his forehead on yours for a moment as he catches his breath. 

“You have to do any one thing that I want right?” He breathes. “Go to the winter formal with me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes flying open in shock and immediately finding his as you soften at the sincerity in his face. 

“You mean that?” You murmur, and a smirk graces Minho’s features, one you’ve become so familiar with after countless years of him teasing you. 

“’Course I do. That’s what you were gonna ask me too, right?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly. You blink for a moment, tilting your head slightly as you process his words. Then it hits you. 

"Juyeon told me I wasn’t being obvious!” You grumble, pouting in dismay. 

“Well,” Minho laughs, “I only had a small idea that you liked me. What confirmed it was that sign you made—I might strike out asking, right? I may have gotten a peek at it when you left to get water before the game.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t look! That’s not fair,” you whine, hitting his shoulder playfully. 

“It’s the reason I’m asking you now though, isn’t it? So tell me, Y/N. Will you go to the dance with me?” Minho smiles softly, the light in his eyes is akin to that of the mistletoe berries gleaming above you. You can’t stop your mouth from pulling into a wide grin, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer to you, letting your lips answer his question as they meet his once more. 

LEE MINHO; TRY ONE: SUCCESS!

[neo-shitty]

all the muggle things. — c.s

description. in which you and san spent the rest of your days after hogwarts getting the muggle experience.

pairings. slytherin!choi san x gender-neutral (wizard) reader (yes, this fic is house friendly)

genre. harry potter/hogwarts!au, fluff

warnings. mentions of injury. 

word count. 1.6k

writer’s notes. i don’t know why i never thought of writing a harry potter-inspired au before! also, it’s been a while since i’ve written for ateez. i hope this didn’t turn out so bad! 

inspired by option #1 (roommates au) + prompt #36 from this list (given by @kathyrncapp835​)+ prompt #46 from @ficscafe​‘s dialogue prompt event (given by @meaningfulmess​). prompt lines are bolded.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾  TERMINOLOGY GUIDE :: for the muggles, explained and simplified by yours truly

Muggle - someone who isn’t able to use magic / non-wizard

Lumos - spell that makes the tip of a wizard’s wand light up

Quidditch - a game for wizards that involves flying on brooms and shooting balls through hoops, basically basketball but more complex because there are three hoops and someone’s trying to catch an ‘i-am-speed’ ball that dictates the fate of the game in the end

Sectumsempra - a spell that lacerates the opponent

Wizarding War - the war between Voldemort’s side and Harry’s

Dark Mark - Voldermort’s mark

Nox - counter spell to Lumos that switches the wand’s light off

You tried your best to peer your eyes open when you heard the front door slam shut. You groaned, infuriated at how such simple tasks like breathing and opening your eyes required extra effort whenever you were sick. But getting sick was merely a consequence of your own actions, so you really didn’t have anyone else to blame but yourself.  

You managed to open one eye, fighting back the heavy eyelid that threatened to shut and you searched the room for other movements besides your own. 

“It’s 2AM, go back to sleep,” a voice said. Soon, it’s owner emerged from the shadows of the doorway.

Dressed in his all-black work uniform was San. His whole figure blended into the background too well that it almost seemed like he’d apparated back to your place. But with the faint sound of his footfalls, you concluded that he used the muggle way in.

You turned your head. You considered turning your whole body but everything felt sore and heavy. Plus, you were content with the way the comforter was wrapped around you—which was rare, even on better days. You watched San pass by the living room before heading to the kitchen. Though you couldn’t see him from the living room couch, you could see the shadow casted on the floorboards by the kitchen light he switched on. It danced as he moved around, probably to get a late night snack before heading to bed. You could hear him uttering hushed incantations followed by the faint clattering of kitchen metals.

“I’m glad you didn’t burn the house down while I was gone,” he said from the kitchen.

A smile crept up to your lips at his statement. You opened your mouth to utter a small thank you but you could only manage a whisper. You weren’t even sure if he even heard it from that far.

Moments later, he reappeared by the kitchen doorway. “But you were cutting it a bit too close though,” he continued, clutching a frying pan in his right hand. 

The pan—originally gray—was now blackened from the mishap earlier. You had fallen asleep in the middle of cooking your own dinner, only waking up to the smell of burnt meat. The scent had been that thick that it managed to seep through your clogged nostrils. It was that bad. You ended up ordering take out instead. You forgot that you didn’t clean up the evidence.

A croaky laugh escaped your lips as you recalled the accident. San only shook his head, disappearing back into the kitchen to put the pan back to the sink. When he came back, he had two cups in hand. He walked over to set both down on their respective coasters on the glass center table of your living room. When he reached over to turn the lights on you stopped him.

“Don’t turn the lights on,” you said, your voice barely audible but he hears it, stopping before the lamp fully on. “They’re too bright. It’ll give me another headache.”

You see his silhouette nod. You could hear him flipping his coat around, shuffling to find something. You didn’t know what he was searching for exactly and you opted to ask him. But you soon find out what it was when you hear him whisper.

“Lumos.”

Where San stood, an orb of light began to glow. You soon realized that the light came from the tip of a stick. He was holding the fir wand in his hand, controlling its brightness until it was just right. Soon, it illuminated the room with a faint light—bright enough for you to see outlines of the room and the furniture scattered but not bright enough to make your eyes water like the lamps did.

He walked over to where you were before leaving his hand outstretched. “Sit up to drink your leaf water,” he said, earning a chuckle from you.

“Leaf water,” you repeated in a hoarse voice before taking his hand in yours, clutching it as you helped yourself up. You crossed your legs, tucking each foot beneath the opposite leg in order to give room on the couch for San to sit. 

He handed you your cup of tea before he sat adjacent to you with his own cup in one hand and his wand in the other. Your eyes lingered on the wooden stick he gripped in his hand and on the fingers he had wrapped around it. All his rings were silver, representing the complementing color of his house, Slytherin. Or that was what you remembered of him back when you were still studying at Hogwarts.

You recalled when you used to watch him play Quidditch. He always kissed his rings first before putting on his gloves. He was deemed one of the more valuable players next to their seeker and you were just another student from another house. It wasn’t until your last school year at Hogwarts when you first interacted. The first time you both went beyond the occasional glances you shared whenever you were both in the same class. 

Though your first time meeting wasn’t the best setting for the start of something new.

You were tending to one injury after another, working with the school nurse to cater every student who ran to the infirmary for aid or additional support in the form of potions. San had walked in alone and upon catching sight of his green sigil, your first instinct was to cast a spell to disarm him. But he didn’t have his wand raised, nor did he show any indications that he was about to attack. Your guard was up; he was still a Slytherin and fighting for the opposing side.

But he was still a student of the school with a bleeding arm. The rip on his upper sleeve revealed enough of  his wound for your body to move on its own without much guidance. You led him to the nearest vacant bed, letting him standby until you got everything you needed from the cabinets. 

In the time you were treating the wound, you learned that it took him half the war and a Sectumsempra to the arm (which was originally aimed at his chest; thankfully he was able to dodge it—barely) to realize that he was fighting for the wrong side of the Wizarding War. He was glad he was going to sit out the rest of it and vowed to—and you quote—“Never do stupid shit again.”.

The Dark Mark was still tattooed on his arm, a permanent reminder of decisions that did more harm than good both to him and to the people around him. The tattoo faded over time as the population of evil wizards gradually decreased. 

Your brain was hot-wired to never trust a Slytherin. Or at least, it used to be. 

Much to your surprise, San did keep his words that night at the infirmary. He spent his years after Hogwarts atoning for all the damage he’d caused, dedicating nearly all his hours into hunting the last of the witches and wizards who still practiced the Dark Arts. 

San shifted beside you, leaning against the back of the couch before turning to look at you. He set his mug back down to its coaster before he pressed his palm against your forehead. 

“I’m feeling a bit better, don’t worry. I think I’ll be fine by morning.”

“I still don’t get why you let yourself be sick when you can just—” he flicked his wand, “—it away.” 

You set your own mug down after taking a sip, only noticing then that he pulled out the matching Hogwarts house coasters. His furrowed expression softened when you held his hand, peeling it off your forehead before sandwiching it between your cold ones.

“I’m trying to experience muggle living,” you answered. 

Slytherins normally weren’t the type who liked involving themselves with muggle things, more so with the muggle way of living. But San wasn’t always like other Slytherins. Cheesy, you thought. But it was a fact.

You held his stare when his eyes landed on yours. You knew his mind was brewing some sort of egoistic line or anything short yet clever to say. But you were faster.

“You did well today,” you told him, drawing random shapes and symbols on the back of his palm.

Even after hearing it everyday for the past few years, San’s heart still warmed upon hearing the words leave your lips. 

You said it the first time at the infirmary. At first, you were unsure if you were saying it to yourself as he heard you utter it after you patched him up. Later that day, you reassured him that it was meant for him. San, at the time, wasn’t too keen on accepting it. Nothing about what he did that day was worth the praise. But he soon realized you were referring to his decision to right his mistakes instead of staying ignorant.

You haven’t stopped saying it since then. The phrase became more of a part of your routine over time but it still held the same value as the first time you ever said it. You still smiled softly after saying it and you still looked at him fondly like you were genuinely proud of it. San was trained to easily catch  whenever people lied—be it in the form of speaking or in acting. But he never found any trace of ingenuity whenever it came to you. 

Somehow, that was enough to convince him that he could still make up for mistakes made in the past. It wasn’t too late yet. 

You catch the moment the corner of his lips curved up into a smile. One sly finger up, you were ready to—once again—poke the dimple on the side of his mouth.

He hated that. But if he were to be honest, he could never really hate anything you did. One ‘Nox’ and a flick of his wand later, the light on the tip of his wand disappeared—plunging the both of you into complete darkness before your finger could even touch his skin.

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath, drawing your hand back and crossing them over your chest.

You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you could tell the smirk from his tone, “Of course you do.”

© neo-shitty, 2021

[etherrealoblivion]

Nice To Meet You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: Reader somehow gets Spencer’s number and texts him, no idea who he is.

Content warnings: Smut. Dangerous scenario. choking ;)

gif by @toyboxboy​

Words: 2,165

MASTERLIST

~

Glancing at your phone, you were surprised to find that it was already 1:34 AM. How had your friends distracted you enough to have you stay out this late?

You shoved your way to the bar and tried to order a drink over the pulsating music filling the club.

“Aw, come on, mama,” you could hear a man next to you sweet talking one of your friends, “he’s six-foot-one and can tell you more interesting facts than you’d ever learn yourself. Plus he’s got three PhD’s. Tell me that doesn’t get you goin’.”

Your friend scoffed and dropped a napkin onto the bar. Ten neatly scrawled digits written across the bottom. Without thinking, you picked up the napkin, looked it over, and slipped it into your pocket.

“No thanks, honey,” your friend said, “But, I wouldn’t be opposed to you buying me a drink.”

And suddenly, her and the man were on the dance floor, leaving you alone yet again.

You supposed it was about time to turn in, shooting a quick text to your friend and catching a cab back to your apartment.

As you got in bed, not bothering to change out of your club outfit, you felt the lump in your pocket that held the phone number.

As much as you despised technology, you had finally gotten the hang of saving phone numbers into your phone. That and telling the time was the only thing it was good for anyway.

So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when your hands automatically typed in the number and pressed call.

What was a surprise, was the nervous voice on the other end answering on the second ring.

“H-hello?”

It was a man. His voice was scratchy and low, like he’d been asleep.

“Hello?”

“Do you need me to come in?” there was rustling on the other end, like he was getting out of bed.

“What?”

He went silent, seemingly realizing that you weren’t who he thought you were.

“Who is this?”

For some reason, you found yourself smiling at the way he asked.

“Who is this?”

Your answer seemed to have shocked him judging by the noise of him opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“I’m, uh, certainly not going to give my name to a stranger on the phone who won’t tell me theirs.”

You chuckled.

“Fair enough. I got your number at a bar. I thought i’d .. call . . . And I’m just realizing how weird this is.”

In your defense, he did chuckle softly.

“No, no. It’s interesting. I don’t really meet a lot of new people so, um. Wait. Did the number happen to be written on a napkin? Perhaps given to you by a suave asshat named Derek?”

You giggled into the phone, pleased to hear he was enjoying the conversation.

“Napkin yes. Derek? No clue. I don’t really talk to people at bars.”

“Yeah. I don’t really go to bars.”

“Seriously? Then how do I have your number?”

He cleared his throat harshly.

“I, ahem, I was telling my friend Derek about how I don’t really, um . . . get girls and he bet me he could find at least one woman who’d be . . . interested.”

You laughed, charmed by the way he stuttered.

“Ah, that makes sense. I was with my friend and she, uh, dropped the napkin. Although, I will say, you do have adorable handwriting.”

“Oh, right. Yes, thank-thank you. You have a nice voice. It’s calming. I mean, people tend to be about sixteen percent more attracted to nice voices. Not that I’m attracted to you. I mean! Not that you aren’t um. Actually i don’t know what you look like so I can’t really . . . um.”

A surge of boldness ran through you and in that moment, at 2:16 in the morning, you made a decision.

“Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Know what I look like?”

He stuttered on the other end, unsure what you were saying.

Before he could say anything else, you hung up, texted your address to him, and jumped in the shower.

Only when the warm water hit your skin did you realize the weight of what you’d just done. You’d just texted your home address to a complete stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

“Oh god.”

Were you in danger? Jesus. You jumped out of the shower and ran to your phone, suddenly much more awake.

“I should call the cops, right?” you muttered to yourself, throwing on a bathrobe. “I should! Right?”

But the knock at the door snapped you out of your downward spiral.

You had two options. Call the police. Or open the door.

Your hand found the doorknob faster than you’d like to admit, throwing open the front door and being hit by the sight of the man in front of you.

True to what the man at the bar said, he was tall. But that wasn’t what struck you. He was wearing a pale blue set of pajamas and old sneakers on his feet. His fluffy hair was rumpled from sleep but his eyes were wide open.

You suddenly remembered your own state of disarray: hair wet from the shower, no makeup, and only wearing a bathrobe.

“I—“ he started to speak, unsure of what to say. Understandably so; this was a very unlikely situation.

You reached out to him, hand sneaking around the lapel of his pajama top and pulling him into your apartment and leading him towards the bedroom.

His eyes were blown wide, watching you intently, letting you take charge of the situation.

So you did. Pushing him so he sat down on your bed and standing between his legs. He didn’t move. Just stared nervously, maintaining eye contact.

After he didn’t make any move, you gently grasped his hands, leading them up to the tie of your robe, placing them there.

He took the hint, quicker than you expected, and got to work untying the knot. The moment he did, you started to unbutton his pajamas, pushing the top back off his torso, revealing a smooth, tough chest that you could run your hands over for hours.

He’d untied your robe, but his hands were now nervously hovering over the opening.

You climbed into his lap, resting your arms on his shoulders and leaning in to whisper in his ear. You recalled something his friend at the bar had said.

“What are you waiting for? Doctor.”

A soft moan escaped his lips at the name, pulling you closer, hands tight around your hips.

Intrigued, you continued.

“Oh? You like it when I call you that, doctor?”

Suddenly, you were on your back, hands pinned above your head. He had flipped you over, now laying between your legs, you could feel his growing erection pressed up against you.

A dark look flickered across his eyes, quickly replaced by one of worry. He removed his hands from yours and started to sit up, presumably to apologise for getting rough. You weren’t having that.

You quickly flipped the two of you so you were straddling him, gently grinding against his growing bulge.

The look in his eyes did horrible things to you and you couldn’t stand another second without his lips against yours.

The kiss was hot and fueled by the danger of the circumstance, you being at the mercy of this utter stranger that, for some reason, you trusted completely.

You pulled back, panting heavily and running your hands up and down his chest. His hands were placed softly against your back, lightly stroking through your robe.

“Take it off,” you growled into his ear.

That seemed to be the last straw, for he flipped you over again, ripping your robe off and throwing it across the room, pulling his pajama pants down and grinding painfully slowly against you.

“Is this what you want?” his voice was low and scratchy, like it had been on the phone but there was more to it now. There was something you couldn’t place in his eyes. The words sent a chill through you, making you dig your nails into his back, pulling him against you.

“Not quite,” you muttered against his ear, digging through your bedside drawer and pushing him away. He took the lead, shedding his underwear, grabbing the condom and rolling it on.

Now, with him on top of you, cock gently pressing against your entrance, not quite pushing in yet, you realized that what you’d seen in his eyes wasn’t worry. It was care.

When he spoke, it was gentle, light.

“Is this okay?”

A warm surge went through you at the question. He was genuinely concerned about how you felt.

You smiled gently at him, and he smiled back, a hint of worry remaining in his expression.

Rather than answer aloud, you hooked your legs around his back and pulled him into you.

His face lit up, mouth forming an O as he moaned softly, eyebrows furrowing as he plunged into your tight heat.

He was considerably bigger than you’d expected, going off his slight stature. The sensation was very new. You hadn’t been with anyone in a while and you gasped quite loudly as the two of you adjusted to the feeling.

After a moment, he started fidgeting, eager to move.

You released your grip with your legs, allowing more room for movement. The second you did, he began to thrust, slow at first, almost teasingly. He was soon spurred on by the volume and intensity of your moans, probably also from you being so close to his ear.

A wave of pleasure suddenly shocked you as he hit just the right spot, resulting in a strange squeak coming from your mouth.

His eyes went wild and suddenly his hand was at your throat, squeezing the sides every so gently.

You felt your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the sensation. His hand snapped away quickly and he froze.

“Shit. . . I’m so sorry . . . I—I didn’t mean—“

But you simply grabbed his hand and placed it back on your neck, softly squeezing his fingers and giving a little nod.

It took him a moment to get the hint, but when he did, he really went for it. Pounding into you, biting down on your clavicle, and making the blood rush to your head — amongst other places.

You had to force yourself to move your hands from where they were clawing at his lower back. You pulled his shoulders forward and bit his earlobe, causing his movements to stutter.

“Oh, fuck. . . . I don’t know how long. . . .”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, slipping a hand down between you and rubbing your clit, increasing the feeling tenfold.

Your moans quickly became louder, only making him pound harder. Surely the headboard was banging against the wall. The neighbors would for sure complain.

Suddenly, the hand on your throat flew to your ankle, gripping it tightly and swinging your leg up over his shoulder. The angle was now just right and he hit the spot inside you each time he thrust in, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh, god. Yes. Ohhhhh . . .” you rubbed furiously, on the verge of your orgasm. “I’m gonna—“

“Me too,” his voice was so sweet and still so dirty.

An unexpected idea washed over you.

“Look at me.”

His eyes snapped open, startling you with the haze over his pupils. Although, you were sure if someone held a mirror to you right now, you’d look pretty much the same.

Almost the instant your eyes met, you felt the knot in your stomach snap, sending waves and waves of pleasure through you as you tightened around your partner.

He could definitely feel you coming, eyebrows furrowing and speeding up his thrusts so they were now shallow and quick, just enough to get him off. Which he did very shortly after you, hand snaking around your throat and pushing you down onto his cock as he came.

He grunted on the last thrust, using every ounce of his strength not to collapse on top of you.

Your voice froze in your throat as he pulled out, discarding the condom and plopping down next to you, breathing heavily.

Somehow, your post-coital brain started to rush with the guilt of what you’d just done. You didn’t know this man in the slightest.

“I don’t even know your name,” you whispered to the ceiling, staring at the little popcorn-like bumps.

He turned on his side, lightly running a finger along your jaw in a way that was far too sweet for a one-night stand.

You turned to look at him. His eyes were much lighter now. You could see small flecks of green behind them.

“My name’s Spencer.”

A smile lit up your face, prompting one from him in turn.

“I’m Y/N.”

He blushed, holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You took his hand, shaking it firmly and beaming at him.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer.”

[neon-junkie]

I absolutely adore your writings and I have been inspired to start writing but the problem is that I never did before. And whenever I try I just don't know from where to begin I just feel lost not knowing exactly what to do. I really need some help or any tips. you can ignore my ask if you don't want to answer it I don't want to bother you

thank u so much, and ah, i feel your pain. here’s a load of brutally honest advice for you, hope this helps!<3

Write whatever the fuck you want. Seriously, it doesn't matter how specific or weird it is; if you enjoy writing it, then carry on.

If you're unsure on what to write, then begin diving into fantasies of your favourite characters/ships. Maybe you like to fantasize about going on a picnic date with someone? Or thinking into detail on how said ship would end up together? Or maybe you just want to fantasize about being fucked senseless by certain characters? Nice. Go and write all that shit!!!

Look into the basics of grammar and punctuation. I've noticed minor mistakes people do, such as using ' or , for speech bubbles, which honestly makes fics harder to read. " is very clear, and it's basic punctuation knowledge. Don't do anything weird with punctuation, please. You may not realize how hard work is to read whenever the punctuation is a mess...

That being said, learn when and how to use commas. Please. There is nothing harder to read such as a sentence like this with no commas. Commas are basically short breaths of air or brief pauses in your work and you can never have too many of them. See, look how hard those sentences are to read... I'm dying lol.

PARAGRAPHS. PLEASE USE THEM. It doesn't matter how incredible your fic is, if you've written everything as a large, thicc, block of text, then most of your readers will back out. Large chunks of texts are so hard to follow... so hard... I'd recommend using a new paragraph every 2-6 lines, or after a character has finished talking. Also, readers with things like ADHD and Dyslexia struggle to follow blocks of texts.

PLEASE only have one character talking per paragraph. If another character is going to start talking, then make a new paragraph for them. Your readers will quickly get confused if more than one person is talking within one paragraph.

Don't go overboard with the bold and italics feature. If you use them often then they'll lose their true meaning, and your readers will become somewhat immune to them. Use them when the time is right, when the stars have aligned, when your crops have grown, and your skin is clear.  

Don't take shit from anyone. That sounds weird to say, but people will give you shit for no reason.

Expect backlash, no matter what you write. There's always going to be someone out there who hates your work, and will probably go out of their way to express their unwanted and unnecessary opinion. Block and ignore. Don't feed the trolls. Don't waste your time on them.

If you write requests, then remember that you have the right to refuse any request, for any reason, even if it's just 'I don't want to write that.' And like I said, don't take the abuse if people kick off because you won't write their fic - tell them to write it themselves.

If you do take requests, try and outline exactly what you will/won't write, characters you'll write for, topics you'd like to overall avoid (such as phobias and triggers.) And if people disrespect your limits, then block them.

This one is hard, but try and not find comfort/reassurance in things such as reblogs, likes, comments, kudos, etc. People tend to neglect writers and rarely give you feedback, let alone a reblog. It's really hard, but just... try... and fail (like me.)

Don't be afraid of smut. Sex is common. Sex is normal. Sex is taught to be shameful despite the world literally revolving around it. If Megan thee Stallion and CardiB can sing loudly and proudly about how wet their pussies are, then you can write about characters fucking each other.

Research your shit. Research everything relevant to your setting. But sometimes, for the sake of fanfiction, it's okay to bend your research to fit what you're writing.

Find a writing style that works best for you. Some people like to draft out their entire fics before diving in, some simply jot down a few notes and key points, and others wing it. I'd recommend testing all those styles to help find what works best for you.

Don't force yourself to write. Writing is usually a hobby - it's meant to be fun. If you're stressing out over a piece then leave it alone, come back to it in a few days, and if it continues to stress you then simply drop it. It's not worth getting worked up over.

[ushidoux]

A Life Well Lived - Bokuto x Reader (Pt. 1)

Summary: An immortal meets a human she’s meant to care for temporarily. ‘Care for’ and ‘temporarily’ are not well defined. (1.7k words)

Warnings: these will change by chapter, but for this one, I guess alcohol

A/N: Hey yall, it’s your girl starting yet another mini-chapter fic, please bear with me. This popped into my head and I got excited, let me know what you think or if I should continue.

When you gaze upon your human the first time, you’re genuinely surprised. 

He is terribly young, to the point that it shocks you, although you’re not sure you’ve ever really experienced ‘shock.’

You cannot estimate exactly how old he is (from your studies, humans age extremely variably) but from the looks of it, he’s somewhere in his early to mid 20s. He looks healthy and happy too, you note, as you sit perched on a large tree, enhanced vision allowing you to pierce through the very ceiling of the large restaurant in which he’s seated and laughing boisterously while he enjoys a dinner with friends that seem to love him dearly.

You scratch your head before turning to your hovering aide called a Companion, a bouncing bright light not unlike any of the stars that hang above in the night sky. Your Companion is a semi-sentient link to the celestial realm from which you were born and is similar to what humans would call pets, albeit more intelligent and able to quickly provide you information; yours, however, tends to be on the quiet side unless you ask it questions. 

Your first question is to confirm that you are indeed looking at the right human. It would be embarrassing if your instructor found out you had been tagging along behind the wrong subject the entire time, leaving your true human defenseless, but you couldn’t say it was the first time it had happened in the history of GA training. Guardian Angel trainees weren’t always selected for promotion strictly based off of their attentiveness, even if it was a crucial requirement for the job. 

<< Companion, am I surveilling the right human? >> You ask, tentatively. Your lips don’t form words, but rather think thoughts that the Companion understands. The light seems to glow a brighter gold then retreats to its normal luminance before replying to your question.

<< Bokuto Koutaro is the one you have been bonded to. Your eyes rest on the correct subject. >>

You frown. It’s not a good thing to have a young subject as a trainee. Trainees work on stints of two to three years maximum, which means that this young man, so full of life and cheer, will not be long for this world if you truly are meant to be his keeper. The fact is a bit upsetting, but you remember that this is the nature of the role you were created to fill. Two years, ten years, twenty years of life was not very much time in the grand scheme of things, anyway. Mortals live relatively short lives regardless.

The moon above you is full, and you continue to watch him carefully in the light, still settled weightlessly on the same tree branch and humming quietly to yourself as the night progresses. He’s drunk, you realize once he finally leaves the building, and a young man whose name he mumbles intermittently - Akaashi, is it? - is all but carrying him into a cab and leading him home. You giggle as Koutaro burps loudly into Akaashi’s face while he attempts to push him into the vehicle. 

Humans are so funny.

When the car starts to leave, you stretch out your wings and glide through the dim sky, your Companion besides you, to follow your human to his home. 

It turns out to be a short trip towards a modestly sized apartment building, and Koutaro stumbles out and makes his way safely to the elevator and all the way up until his front door. He struggles to find his key card in his wallet, which he drops more than once, but eventually he makes his way in. You notice a couple of loose bills he drops on the ground and decide to pick them up for him and drop them on his kitchen counter. 

Koutaro does not take off his shoes at the door, but he kicks them off right before he collapses onto his couch instead of his bed, and they go flying in your direction, you phasing in and out of your physical form just in time so that they don’t hit you square in the chest. You think that you probably shouldn’t stay in this form, but you’re bored of floating and sit instead on his kitchen counter.

He falls asleep almost instantly, laid on his belly and snoring loudly, one arm dangling off of the couch.

You’re surprised he can slip out of consciousness that quickly, but he really is quite inebriated. Usually at this time, you can give yourself a little break and allow your Companion to monitor for any sudden changes while you find something else to do to pass the time other than stare at him, but instead you watch him sleep a little longer.

The young man is fascinating. Granted, you haven’t had experience with tons of humans before this, but he’s notable. First of all, he’s larger in frame than the average human, and his hair is an unusual color and shape. His eyes, when open, are gold like your Companion, and his smile is warm. 

His snore is really quite loud though, but suddenly it stops and for a moment you are nervous he’s stopped breathing. You go over to check and roll him onto his back, not bothering to shroud yourself in invisibility immediately thereafter because there’s absolutely no way he’ll wake up with how soundly he’s asleep.

Until he does.

Bokuto’s golden eyes shoot open in the dark, and suddenly he’s staring right at you, and those same eyes become wide like saucers.

He gasps and you gasp, and immediately out of panic, you disappear.

You jump up in the air, letting your wings flap once to create distance between you, even though his frantically searching eyes can no longer see you now that you’ve shrouded yourself from view, and you watch him sober up immediately as he tries to come to terms with what he just saw.

He flips on all the lights, looking frantically for the spirit appearing like a young woman who just hovered mere inches from his face, and his heart is pounding - you can hear it from here - while you continue to float, unsure if you should leave him alone for now and escape back to your realm.

You’ve royally fucked up. Maybe he’ll forget because he’s drunk, you hope, biting your lip.

Instead, he calls a friend.

“There’s a ghost in my room!” He yells. Your ears are tuned to the other end of the phone where you can hear a groggy, exasperated voice remind him that it’s 3am and hang up the phone promptly. It’s the same friend from earlier; it seems like his fright today is not out of the realm of his usual antics.

Bokuto looks absolutely panicked now and sits back on the couch, legs pulled into his chest. You wonder if he’ll actually die from fright, so pale he now seems as he looks around, unable to sleep.

Maybe you take a little bit of pity on him, because you turn off your Companion who helps you but also monitors your every move, and decide disaffectedly to break the rules again. It’s only meant to be for a moment, just to assuage his fears, and you drop yourself back to the ground and reveal yourself.

“Don’t be afraid,” you say in a small, gentle voice, as you stand before him. “... I’m not a ghost.”

You’re not exactly sure what more to say after that. The young man’s eyes are wide, incredibly wide again, and his mouth takes the form of an O as he takes you in.

Your wings are not very large but they’re not small either and they’re untucked, and you realize he’s staring at those rather than your face.

“... Angel?!” He exclaims.

You nod, perhaps too solemnly, and he looks like he’s about to faint.

“I’m dying, aren’t I? I’m fucking dying! I drank too much and I’m fucking dead! I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead!” He is now wailing, no longer looking at you, but burying his face in the couch cushions dramatically. 

You approach slowly, not sure what to do with a crying human, and he gets up suddenly and looks at you pitifully.

“Heaven or hell?”

“What?” You repeat, and he doesn’t seem phased by the fact that you, a stranger with wings and a halo are speaking to him, but rather that his life is coming to an end.

“Am I going to hell? I think I shoplifted once when I was a kid… Some grapes! I stole some grapes and I’m going to hell for that, aren’t I?!”

His lower lip is quivering and he’s waiting for an answer, but before you can speak, he is wailing again.

“Give me another chance!!! I didn’t know better and I was hungry!”

You’re stunned, and then a little flustered. For goodness’ sake...

“Y-you’re not dying!” You finally exclaim.

He’s back in sorts for just a moment, and blinks, looking at you with surprise.

“I’m not?”

Not yet, anyway, you think. You clear your throat.

“I-I’m your guardian angel.”

As soon as that comes out of your mouth, you wince, because you already know that you’re breaking too many rules at once, even if your Companion is turned off and can’t report you. You’re not exactly sure why you’re telling him the truth like this in the first place, but the sight of the crying human gets to you, especially since you feel bad for what is yet to come for him.

Before you know it, he’s reached out for you surprisingly fast, and to your shock, he now holds your face in his hands. His hands are large, gentle and warmer than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. You can hear his heartbeat through his palms. It pounds.

You don’t have a heart, but if you did, you think it would have stopped. There’s a split second of wonder that you detect from his golden eyes as he drinks your face in, confirming that you are indeed real and he is not dreaming. Even in the dark, you can see redness form on his cheeks anew, still from the alcohol that he consumed too freely hours earlier. Probably.

It occurs to you that something again is very wrong, this feeling of doom that seems to arise from inside you, even though you are immortal and this is a human destined to die.

He’s too bold. There’s too much intensity in his eyes.

You fade into nothingness and disappear for the night.

[boxesandrings]

Hello! First off, I simply adore your writing. Your characterizations simply feel so... natural! It's lovely! Second, could I request some fluffy Harvey/Elliott at either the Feast of the Winter Star or the Spirit's Eve festival? That would be grand. Thank you!

Teehee sorry this took so long! I had written a story about the two of them at the Feast of the Winter Star and then hated it so much I completely started over 🤪 So I hope you enjoy this now seasonally appropriate Spirit's Eve fluff!

Title: Meet me Halfway

Rating: G

Summary: Harvey is crushing on Elliott, but is more than okay with keeping things the way they are. When Elliott invites him into the maze at the Spirit's Eve festival though, the men get much closer than Harvey ever thought.

Characters: Elliott, Harvey, Sebastion, Marlon, Maru, F!Farmer

Words: 2841

Harvey had been standing by the refreshments table when Elliott passed behind him, his fingertips lightly grazing against the Doctor's shoulders. Harvey jumped, almost spilling his drink but managed to steady himself, cheeks flushed as Elliott laughed.

“A bit on edge, Doctor?” Harvey cleared his throat and set his cup down, his other hand reaching to the back of his neck.

“No! I mean, kinda. I have to say, I think this is probably my least favorite festival.” Elliott nodded. Harvey studied his face, trying to read the man next to him. Was there a slight blush in his face as well?

Even though they had lived in the same town for years now, only a few months ago had it struck Harvey how cute the man living on the beach was. They had talked a bit around town and at festivals, and of course Harvey was Elliott’s doctor. But since the community center had been restored Harvey had begun to spend more time there, reading articles that his colleagues from the city had sent him or using the craft room to work on his model planes. Elliott was there constantly as well, and the two men began to grow more familiar.

Harvey’s feelings surprised him. It wasn’t that he had never had feelings for another man before, but just how suddenly they had developed after getting to know Elliott was strange to him. Harvey had accepted who he was at this point in his life; he was rigid and methodical, overthinking most aspects of his life. But Elliott had somehow swept in and threw his life out of order— Harvey acted impulsively around him, and it scared him.

But what scared Harvey even more was that he couldn’t tell how Elliott felt about him. Elliott was definitely flirty with him, he couldn’t deny it. But Elliott flirted with everyone, or at least seemed to. Elliott was confident, outgoing, and rather touchy with almost everyone in town. There was no way Elliott felt the same way about him, introverted and anxious, but Harvey couldn’t help but feel the hard thumping in his chest everytime Elliott was around.

Beside him Elliott nodded, scooping some of the hot apple cider Gus was providing into his own cup.

“I can understand that. While I’m sure you’ve caught on that I tend to have a certain… flair for the dramatic,” Elliott regarded Harvey out of the corner of his eye, a coy smile on his lips, “this holiday quite honestly might be overdoing it.”

As if the universe was proving a point, a loud clanging noise rang out behind the men. Elliott’s eyes went wide with fear as he jumped, his body colliding with the Doctor’s as he moved away from the noise. Harvey dropped his drink as he steadied the man in front of him, not sure whether to be disappointed by the loss of his cider or elated by the touch. Once Elliott was no longer falling, Harvey turned to investigate the noise.

Behind him, one of the walking skeletons was at the edge of his cage, a bony arm outstretched and rattling against the bars. Sebastian had fallen back onto the ground and was trying to crawl away from the beast with wide eyes. Marlon stepped in quickly after the skeleton had made its move, pushing the monster further back in with a large stick. Once the skeleton was far enough back, Harvey watched as Marlon offered a hand to Sebastian and pulled the boy up, saying something stern but inaudible from this far away. Harvey turned back to Elliott, who was watching the scene with a grimace.

“You want to move somewhere else? Like, away from this?” Elliott’s gaze snapped back to Harvey, his unsettled look quickly turning into a smile.

“I’d like nothing more, my dear doctor.” Elliott linked his arm through Harvey’s and began to march off, Harvey blushing furiously as he stumbled along.

Elliott led them far away from the refreshments, until Harvey found them standing in front of the maze. Elliott looked toward the entrance, then turned to the Doctor.

“Do you want to go in? I’ve never actually tried the maze before, but with you I’m feeling a little bit more bold.” Elliott winked and Harvey coughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not sure how much of a help I’d be in there. Honestly, the one time I tried before I barely made it 20 feet.” Elliott laughed.

“Well, maybe with the two of us working together we’d go 30.” Harvey chuckled. Before he could agree, someone called out behind him.

“Hey, Doc! You going in?” Harvey and Elliott turned and saw Maru and the Farmer walking toward them, hand in hand.

“Yes! The two of us are going to try to make it an astonishing 30 feet in.” Elliott had answered before he had gotten the chance to, so Harvey nodded along. Had he really agreed to go in, though? Beside him, he saw Elliott tip an imaginary hat toward the Farmer. “Howdy, partner.”

The Farmer sighed, letting go of Maru’s hand to brush her hand through her hair. “El, just because I live on a farm doesn’t mean I’m a cowboy.” Elliott tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly.

“I mean, you sure ride that horse of yours almost everywhere.” Harvey bit his lip, using the moment to bring himself back to reality. Elliott wasn’t flirting with him, he was like this with everyone. The Farmer sighed again, grabbing Maru’s hand once again.

“Whatever.” She began to pull Maru toward the maze. “Later, losers. We’ve got a maze to finish.” Elliott laughed next to Harvey, and waved the two women off. Maru looked over her shoulder grinning at Harvey, mouthing ‘you got this’ in an animated manner until she disappeared behind the first hedge, trailing after her partner.

Harvey furiously blushed. Maru had figured out his crush weeks ago after the two of them had gone out for drinks after work, when Harvey had been so busy staring at Elliott that he had walked straight into a stool and fallen over it.

“Well, no time like the present, I suppose.” Harvey blinked back to reality. Elliott was standing in front of him, the two men eye to eye. Harvey swallowed.

“I guess.” He put on a weak smile, attempting to feign some kind of confidence. Elliott nodded.

“Then let’s away!” Elliott turned and began to walk toward the maze. Harvey sighed, and followed quickly after.

It wasn’t long until the pair came to the first challenge of the maze. As Elliott and Harvey walked side by side, making pleasant small talk, that green hands began to poke their way out of the ground. Elliott jumped, his body colliding with the Doctor’s.

“Oh, Yoba!” Harvey instinctually grabbed Elliott, pulling him close.

“Oh, no, nope! No. Come on.” Harvey let go of Elliott’s shoulder, his hand grabbing the man around the forearm. He took off down another branch, Elliott running behind him.

Once they no longer saw the hands coming out of the ground, men stopped, panting.

“Okay, I get why you didn’t like to go in here.” Elliott looked up at Harvey, still out of breath. Harvey, unsure of how to react, just began to laugh, dropping to the ground as he tried to regain his composure. Elliott sat beside him, brushing his hair back.

“Yeah! No duh.” Elliott began to laugh as well, the men giggling in the dark. Once composed, Elliott turned to face Harvey.

“You know, I quite like it when you’re more relaxed like this. Not that you’re always stiff, just… you seem like there’s a lot going on in your mind.” Harvey weakly smiled and stood up. He was getting too loose.

“Well, that’s being a doctor, I suppose. Especially being the only one for quite a distance.” He offered his hand to Elliott, who took it and pulled himself up.

“That makes sense. You’re always thinking of others.” Elliott smiled. The two men regarded each other. Harvey found himself getting closer, their bodies almost touching, until he noticed a hedge off in the distance reflecting light. He took a step away.

“Wait, what’s that?” Elliott turned around and tilted his head, searching for what Harvey was referencing. Once spotted, Elliott faced him again.

“I guess we know where to go next.” Harvey nodded, and the two moved toward the light source.

The pair came to a large TV, alternating with static and a series of strange images, weird whispers emanating from the speaker bar attached.

“I mean, it’s not as unsettling as the hands but… I’m not a fan of this either.” Elliott was scanning the TV, frowning.

“I know Lewis is trying to boost tourism, but this seems like a lot,” Harvey added, taking a step closer toward his companion. It was human nature to huddle when scared, right? Elliott surely wouldn’t notice. Harvey thought about how he had held the writer when the hands came out of the ground. As terrifying as that was, he almost wanted to do it again.

“I don’t think Lewis built it. I think the Wizard in the woods said he was doing this,” Elliott suggested. The pair heard a snort and both jumped back, trying to find the source.

Maru stepped out from behind the TV, a funny look on her face. “He’s not a wizard, he’s just some hermit in the woods who likes to play with grass.” Harvey’s shoulders relaxed. It wasn’t a monster, it was his nurse.

“I don’t know. Leah said she’s seen some weird things going on at his tower at night.” Maru snorted again and turned her attention back to the screen.

“He probably has some of those LED strips that change colors on the outside of his home.” Elliott nodded, but didn’t look too convinced.

“Maru, what are you doing just lurking out here? And where’s your girlfriend?” Harvey looked around, making sure the TV was the only horror nearby.

“I wanted to figure out how this is working. There’s no plugs out here, and when I opened the battery compartment it was empty. There has to be some other energy source in here.” Maru held up her pocket knife in one hand, a couple of screws in the other. “And she went on ahead to keep exploring so I could play with this. When I’m done I’ll meet her in the middle point of the maze, it’s just up ahead.” She returned her full attention back to the monitor, walking around it’s backside once again.

Harvey turned to Elliott, who shrugged. “Should we move on?” Harvey smiled.

“Lets.”

From where they were standing, Harvey could see the middle point that Maru had talked about. The pair headed toward the fountain, and paused to watch the water shoot high up into the air.

“Well, I’d venture to say we made it quite a bit farther than 30 feet.” Harvey chuckled as Elliott gently elbowed him.

“Quite a bit farther than I made it last time, for sure.” Harvey smiled at Elliott, then turned his gaze back to the fountain. “I’m surprised it’s already the halfway point. It doesn’t seem like we’ve gone too far.”

“I suppose what this maze lacks in physical size, it makes up for in psychological horror.”

As if on cue, the men heard a yell from beyond the midway, and Abigail ran back in toward them, a blur of purple.

“No way, nuh-uh, nope! I’m out.” She blinked out of her confusion, and looked up at Harvey and Elliott. “Dudes, I’m OUT of here.” Harvey stuck a hand out, trying to stop the teen from bolting past him.

“Woah! Abby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He scanned for any obvious signs of injury, his doctor instincts kicking into gear. Abigail was generally fearless, even in regards to her own safety. It took a lot to rattle her.

She looked up at the doctor, her eyes wide with fear. “Dude, I mean Doc, there’s some big spiders back there. Like, me-sized. I’m outta here.” She brushed past Harvey and Elliott, making her way toward the path that the men had just come from. “Good luck!”

Harvey looked toward Elliott, who had noticeably paled. Elliott swallowed, then met the doctor’s gaze. “I mean, making this far was a personal victory anyways? Why push it?”

Harvey stared at Elliott, mouth ajar, before bursting into loud laughter. He sat on the edge of the fountain, trying to take deep breaths to contain his joy.

“Oh thank Yoba, I did NOT want to go in there.” Elliott laughed and sat beside him, his fingertips resting only an inch away from Harvey’s own.

“I think we did very well, though! I mean, halfway is nothing to sneeze at.” Elliott looked toward Harvey and winked. “And you’ve been so brave! Why, the way you rescued me from those hands was quite impressive.” Harvey coughed and stood up, suddenly aware of how close he was to Elliott.

“Yes, well, of course.” Elliott looked up at him, his smile slowly falling. Finally, Elliott sighed.

“I don’t know how much more direct I can be, Harvey.” Elliott’s voice was low, and much more serious than Harvey had ever heard. He turned to Elliott.

“What?” Elliott stood up and crossed his arm over his stomach, nervously rubbing his forearm.

“I mean, I hoped you would have caught on by now, over the past few months, or maybe you have and are just trying to be nice? I don’t…” He trailed off, his gaze lowering toward the ground. “I guess I just like you, Harvey, and I was hoping that by inviting you into the maze with me something would happen, but you keep pulling away and I just… I don’t know.”

Harvey’s jaw dropped. Elliott was flirting with him. Him! And oh Yoba, he had blown it, overthinking each touch, every word, the tone of his voice. Elliott had liked him, and Harvey was too full of fear to do anything. Had Maru known? Is that why she wished him luck?

Harvey sputtered, trying to spit out something, to reassure Elliott. He likes me too. Elliott sighed, meeting Harvey’s eyes again, forcing a smile.

“I’m sorry, that was probably a lot at once. I don’t know why it all came out like that. We can head out if you want.” Elliott took a step back.

Harvey needed to act, to break through his fear. He likes me. Now was not the time to be frozen by indecision, to read far too much into every action. Elliott was there, in front of him now but moving away.

Without thinking, maybe for the first time ever, Harvey reached out and grabbed Elliott’s shoulders, pulling the man in closer to him. Their lips connected, and as Harvey kissed him he could feel his heart beating violently in his chest. Elliott had tensed momentarily when the Doctor had grabbed him, but Harvery could feel him smiling now, melting into the kiss as Elliott placed a hand on the side of his face.

When he pulled back, Harvey was breathless, his hand shaking as he brushed a piece of hair out of Elliott’s face. Elliott was smiling, his cheeks flushed red.

“I like you, a lot, Elliott. I just… I didn’t think you felt the same way.” Elliott laughed quietly, his thumb stroking Harvey’s cheek.

“For such a bright man, you can be awfully dense.” Harvey smiled.

“Yeah.” Harvey moved to kiss Elliott again when he heard something shuffle in the maze behind him.

The men looked toward the path, still holding each other, as the Farmer huffed out of the maze, holding a rather large pumpkin in her hands.

“It’s just a pumpkin! I had to make my way through all that for a pumpkin! And not even a special one like last year, it’s made of foam!” She looked up, her expression softening when she realized what she had walked into. “Oh, um.”

“Maru’s back at the TV still,” Elliot said, his hands not moving from Harvey’s face. The Farmer’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two men’s faces, trying to press her lips together to stop from smiling.

“Thanks. Uh… yeah.” The Farmer walked quickly toward the way back, passing the men with a poorly suppressed smile on her face. Harvey figured she’d break the news to Maru as soon as she saw her.

“Well, where were we?” Harvey turned his attention back toward Elliott, who was smiling warmly at him. Harvey bit his lip, smiling.

“Oh, yeah.” He kissed Elliott again, much calmer than before, enjoying the feeling of their lips touching. Harvey pulled back again. “Want to go back and get a drink? I spilled my cider earlier”

Elliott dropped his hands from Harvey’s face and laced his fingers between the Doctor’s. “I’d love nothing more.” The two men went back into the hedges, hands swinging between them as they made their way back through the maze.

[themysteriousphoenix]

What We Don't Know is an Ocean

With a gesture of his hand, Newt invited Tina to join him on the wide lip of the stone wall. They were nestled deep in the basement menagerie and, after completing feeding rounds, they were alone and the creatures were beginning to settle in for the night. Tina knew it was getting late, but she didn’t want to go up to bed just yet. This thing with Newt was tentative and new, and if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to explore it. To see where it could lead.

With a self-conscious grin, Tina sat next to him, leaving just a few inches between them. Glancing sideways, she could see that Newt had noticed her proximity, there was a light dusting of color spreading over his cheeks and the corners of his lips had lifted into a small smile as he lifted his mug of tea to his lips. She wondered once more why they danced around each other, why, after almost two weeks, nothing more had been said about their letters, their apparent appreciation for each other, their awkward confessions and realizations discovered in the depths of the French Ministry.

After years of distrust, rejection, and isolation, neither Newt nor Tina could quite believe that their feelings were not only appreciated but returned. It was completely new for both of them, and, Tina realized, they had no idea what to do next. As several seconds passed, she began to laugh softly. She gripped the warm ceramic tea mug in her hands, knowing that she was giving herself away. She needed to say something, though. It was time.

“What is it?” Newt asked, turning his head to watch her. She met his eyes, their curious, green depths so close to her own.

“Us,” Tina said, simply. She looked out over the expanse of the habitat in front of them. She had noticed that it was his favorite and that he tended to come here often after feeding rounds to drink his cup of tea. She looked back at him, a little nervousness creeping into her voice. “This is so awkward and it doesn’t need to be. We are being silly.”

“Oh,” Newt replied, a look of hurt flashing across his face as he slowly looked down at the nearly empty cup that he had rested on his knee, “I, um...I have heard that before. I’m so sorry, Tina…”

“No! No, not...not you,” she explained, one hand lifting to softly rest on his shoulder, “Us.” He glanced at her, the fringe hanging over his forehead was allowing him to hide from her. She didn’t like that. He didn’t need to hide from her, not ever. “You like me…”

“Yes.” A whisper.

“And I like you.” Newt looked at her squarely, his hopeful expression reminiscent of the one she had seen briefly two weeks ago when they had last spoken of their feelings. “I just...I don’t know what to do next. I’ve never done any of this before.” Tina’s voice trailed off as her nerves took over her brief surge of boldness. “I just needed you to know. You don’t have to be unsure.”

Newt smiled timidly as he replied. “I am not very experienced either. I haven’t...I hoped that you would, that is to say…” He took a deep breath, then turned to set his mug on the wall behind him. He turned toward Tina again and took one of her hands in his own. His hand was warm and solid, the work-worn skin a contrast to her own. “Sorry. I want this...us...if you do. I just don’t want to mess it up.” He glanced down at their hands, his thumb whispering lightly over the skin on the back of her hand. “I know I’m not, you know…..very-”

“You’re wonderful,” Tina interrupted. She knew where his thoughts were going. The world had been just as unkind to Newt as it had been to her. He smiled and looked down, shaking his head. She squeezed his hand gently before emphasizing once more. “You are. We may not have spent all that much time together yet, but I know that you are one of the most interesting and kind people I have ever met.”

“Thank you, Tina.” Newt’s gaze traveled up to her own once more. He was still smiling. “I do want to do all of this right. I’m honestly not quite sure how to pursue someone who already knows that I am, well, very keen on them.” He chuckled lightly, leaning toward her slightly.

“You have done well so far.”

“Oh,” he blushed as he looked down to where his fingers were still brushing lightly over the back of her hand, “um, thank you.”

There was a pause in their conversation. Both looked out over the expanse of green land before them while Tina sipped at her tea. Setting it down beside her, she turned to look at Newt with determination.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“What? I don’t…” Newt looked at Tina, his puzzlement evident in the way he turned his head and the lowering of his brows.

“About you,” Tina said, clarifying. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Oh. Um, okay. What would you like to know?” Newt seemed confused by the request and Tina realized that he had probably not come across someone who wanted to know about him before. At least not in quite a while.

“I just want to know you better.” Tina felt a little foolish, like she was playing a game, but she was determined to push this thing between them, whatever it was, forward. They had both admitted to being attracted to each other, they had spent months writing and pining after each other. Now they had the opportunity to talk and she didn’t want to waste the time they had, however long it might be. “I figured we know most of the big things about each other, but I want… I don’t know. I guess I want to know you. Does that make sense?” Tina felt her face flush with heat and she looked down, purposefully looking away from Newt. She felt him squeeze her hand lightly where it still rested between them.

“It does.” She looked up at him and found him smiling at her. “But only if you tell me about you as well.”

“Okay.” Tina linked her fingers through his where their hands rested on the cool stone between them. Newt’s smile widened as he watched her.

“I’m not sure where to begin…”

Tina looked out at the expanse before them. “Um….alright. How about this?” Tina asked as she pointed straight ahead. “Why do you like this spot so much? You spend a lot of time here.”

“Oh. It’s designed to look like my parent’s pastureland back home. It’s where I grew up, or….at least it’s supposed to look that way.”

Tina’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” he replied. “I loved growing up there. It was peaceful. Plenty of room to explore and hunt for creatures.” Tina watched as he looked ahead at the green pastureland and then back toward her. “There were some sparse woodland areas and we were close to the sea. It had a little bit of everything.”

“It sounds like a wonderful place to grow up.”

“It was. I had a very quiet childhood, which was very nice in some respects. It was a bit more interesting when Theseus would come home for the summer holiday, but...I spent most of my time just running around the countryside.”

Tina smiled and her heart warmed as she thought of a young Newt exploring the beaches and trees, looking for small creatures to study and nurse back to health. She could imagine hippogriffs flying above him, grazing, playing. It was a childhood that was very different from her own, though, she realized, probably a great deal more lonesome.

“Your turn,” Newt said, pulling Tina from her thoughts.

“Um…” Tina thought for a moment before deciding what she would share. “I don’t miss New York, but I miss my apartment.”

“Just your apartment?” Newt asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I like the city, but I think a city is a city. I liked Paris and I like London for many of the same reasons I liked New York. It wasn’t the city itself that made it feel like home, it was where I lived.” Newt nodded as he listened, realization crossing his features. “That apartment is where I made memories. It was home.”

“Will you go back if you are given the choice?” Tina could hear the nervousness in Newt’s voice as he asked, and she realized that there was hidden meaning in the question. She had been thinking about her answer for days.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Not yet. There’s nothing for me there right now.”

“Except your apartment,” Newt quipped. Tina smiled.

“Except the apartment.” A beat passed before she continued. “I’ll probably have to give it up now. There’s no reason I should be paying for two places to live. I’ll have to find a place to live here while I work with your brother.”

“We’ll find you a flat, it shouldn’t take long.” Tina felt Newt slide his thumb along the heel of her palm, the work-worn skin a contrast to her own.

Tina smiled as she looked up into Newt’s eyes, they were far more relaxed now that they had been talking for a while. As if he knew what she was thinking, his green eyes flicked down to meet hers and the corners of his mouth rose in a small, acknowledging smile. “Your turn.”

“I don’t like apples.”

“How do you not like apples?” Tina asked with a laugh.

Newt shrugged, “I don’t know. I’ll eat them if it’s all that is available, and I like them in pies, but raw apples are just...they are grainy. I don’t like them.”

“Ahh.” Tina smiled. “Well, I hate peas. Always have.”

“Good to know,” Newt said with a chuckle.

“They’re mushy and very...green.” Tina scrunched her face, a look which, though intended to be silly, caught Newt off-guard. It was very cute, and he couldn’t help but smile at her look of mock displeasure.

“Hmm...my turn.” Newt thought for a moment and then smiled as he thought of something. “I have, surprisingly, only broken three bones in my lifetime.” Tina raised an eyebrow in surprise but didn’t speak, inviting Newt to continue. “I fell out of a tree when I was six and shattered a bone in my arm. My mother fixed it, of course, but I required Skelegrow because she couldn’t get it to set correctly.” Newt shuddered absently, “I can still feel it when I think about it. It was a terrible experience. Breaking bones is actually a great fear of mine now.”

“What were the other two?” Tina asked, turning to face him and closing much of the distance that remained between them.

“Um, the second was during the War. I was training a dragon, working from a broom, and she got me with her tail. I was lucky that I only broke a rib that time. I had a wicked concussion, but that was the extent of it.” Newt smiled, amused, and said “The third was about a year ago, just before I met you. I was in Congo and observing a Tebo from a distance, but I missed another that had snuck up behind me, invisible. Naturally, it came after me.”

“Naturally…” Tina remarked.

“Got me in the shoulder before I was able to grab my wand and apparate out of there. I was able to heal my arm myself, thankfully. It wasn’t a bad break. More of an inconvenience because the herd of Tebo all disappeared and I wasn’t able to find them again.”

Of course, Newt would be more concerned about not observing creatures than a broken bone, Tina thought with a grin. She shook her head at him with a smirk. He shrugged in response, reading the expression on her face, and both began to giggle softly.

“What was your favorite place you saw on your travels?” Tina asked, but Newt put up a single finger to stop her.

“Ahh, not yet. You first. It’s your turn.”

“Oh, um…” Tina thought for a moment. “I don’t know how to swim.”

“Truly?” Newt asked in surprise.

“Nope,” Tina responded. “My Papa always wanted to teach me, but he never got the chance. From then on, it just wasn’t important. I never learned.”

Newt looked down at her, his eyes showing understanding and empathy, not pity as she had expected. She was grateful for that, and that he didn’t linger on the subject of her parents.

“America.”

“What?” Tina asked, confused.

“My favorite place I went on my travels. America.”

“Oh…”

“You see,” Newt said softly, “I think New Zealand and Morocco are beautiful, the history of China was fascinating, and nothing could beat the food in Thailand…” Newt turned his head so that he faced her fully, his face inches from her own, “but the ten days I spent in New York were the best ten days of my entire trip.” His eyes were watching her, steady and unfaltering.

Tina felt her cheeks flush in realization as he finished his statement. Newt, though he seemed a man of few words at first, was bold when he wanted to be. She knew what he was trying to say, and she smiled widely at the implication. “Well,” she said softly, matching his tone, “I must admit that I enjoyed your stay in New York far more than I ever thought possible.”

Blinking slowly, Newt grinned at her words. These moments were new between them, and each time they openly spoke of their budding relationship he felt something in his chest flutter. If he wasn’t so aware of the anatomy of the human body, he would say that his heart was jumping for joy. The analogy he had read so many times finally made sense, though. It did feel that way, it seemed.

Reaching up with his free hand, Newt cupped Tina’s cheek and swiped his thumb along her jaw lightly. “You’re beautiful, Tina.”

They were very close together now. Closer than they had been in this context, and Tina could feel his breath on her cheek. “It’s not your turn,” she whispered.

Newt chuckled softly, his fingers pushing her hair back and away from her face. “That’s not a secret. It doesn’t count. You should know that already.” Tina smiled widely, and she felt her cheeks flush. It wasn’t often that she received compliments like that, and she could tell that Newt wasn’t just saying the words because that was what he was supposed to say. No man who compared her eyes to the eyes of a salamander cared about what society deemed a compliment of necessity. She knew that he meant it, and that made her feel more cared for than she had ever felt.

She lifted her free hand up and looped it lightly over his shoulder. Her fingers danced along the seam of his shirt as she contemplated her next move. She wanted this. Him. Her head told her that things were too complicated right now and that they should be moving more slowly, but her heart was done waiting. They had told each other that they wanted to pursue this. Tina knew that he was just as attracted to her as she was to him. She watched her fingers on his shoulder for a moment as she decided, then in a moment of decision she ran her fingers further until her arm was wrapped around his neck, her fingertips brushing the soft hairs at his hairline.

Newt closed his eyes at the contact and Tina felt like her stomach was doing somersaults in her abdomen. “It’s my turn,” she said softly. Newt hummed in response, then opened his eyes to watch her. The look on his face was one she had not seen before. His eyes were steadily looking at her now, something that she knew he found hard to do, and she couldn’t tell if he was afraid, overjoyed, or excited. His eyes were bright in the low light and she squeezed his hand lightly. “I wanted you to kiss me when you left New York.”

There. It was out in the open now. Newt’s eyes closed again, but this time a grin stretched across his face. “And I wanted to kiss you,” he whispered, running his thumb along her cheek again, “I just couldn’t yet. Not until I knew…”

“I know.” Tina did know. She hadn’t approached the subject before he left because it had only been a few days. She didn’t know if it would be reciprocated, and she had been scared of rejection. Of scaring Newt away.

She felt him take a deep breath, shuddering slightly as he let it out slowly. He was nervous, tense, and she could see that he was just as tightly wound as she was right now. The fingers on the hand that held hers, now resting on his knee, interlaced with hers. “I still want to,” he stated. He looked at her, somewhat nervously, through the curls that fell across his forehead.

“I want you to.”

Her whispered phrase was all that it took. The nervous tension melted away slowly as Newt considered her. The hand on her cheek threaded through her hair and rested lightly on the back of her head. She mimicked his actions, running her fingers further into his own hair and leaning forward, ever so slightly. He leaned forward, their noses brushing as he paused for a moment to check that his advances were met with approval. Tina closed her eyes, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick her lips, and that was all he needed. He leaned in and Tina felt herself sinking into the kiss.

It wasn’t passionate or long, but it was perfect. Newt tilted his head and his lips slid across hers, the angle allowing them to be closer. Tina hummed lightly, involuntarily, at the contact and she felt Newt smile. With one last short kiss, Newt pulled away slowly. His eyes opened and Tina felt her face stretching into a happy smile.

“You are wonderful,” she said, running her fingers through his soft curls. “That was wonderful.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Newt replied. “I think I’d like to do that again sometime if you would permit it.”

Tina laughed softly, grinning at him. “You can kiss me whenever you want to, you know.”

“Noted,” Newt said, his gaze darting from her eyes to her lips and back. He grinned, then slowly leaned in again.

Tina happily met him halfway.

[straight-into-the-animus]

Make Out (AltMal)

This was one of the fills for @superfinebeam who requested AltMal to the song Make Out by Julia Nunes as part of the Valentine’s Day Playlist Challenge. I’ve never written AltMal, so I hope this suited!

Warnings: None

Read on Ao3 here!

When they had been younger and circumstances were different, when they hadn’t been so angry -- or as angry --, it had been something else. Touches were fleeting and glancing. Not like the blows delivered and exchanged during training. 

Kisses tended to make them better. They were never able to exchange them for that long, or share too deeply the emotions that might have gone into them were they different or in different places.

For all this, both men could only hope that whatever words were exchanged in the fiery day, under the all seeing sun, didn’t have a place in the cooler night time where no one was around. Not that it was forgotten, but a bit more forgiven.

This did not last. But while it did… It was nice.

----------

The entire time Malik had known Altair -- meaning, their entire lifetimes -- the man had never been able to sit and settle. Not that you were encouraged to do that as an Assassin, in terms of settling. But sitting and being patient, that was sort of encouraged, in some aspects. You were meant to be aware of yourself, to understand. It helped once you understood yourself to understand how you affected the world around you. 

These were all important things. And yet, so often forgotten.

And Malik couldn’t help but remember this as he watched Altair strut around the Jerusalem Bureau, forgetting one of the few rules Malik now had and was able to enforce over the now-novice.

“When I ask you to prepare for a mission, I ask you to do it quietly.”

“Would you rather I scream?”

“I’d rather you stay in one place.”

“I thought you were enjoying my company.”

“Oh?” Malik spared a glance from his maps -- he hadn’t even gotten to work on them with being too focused on Altair, the complete ass -- and glanced up to see the other man standing in front of him, watching him with sharp eyes despite the hood. It wasn’t a look that disarmed him too much, he was used to it. And yet… It was familiar. “What gives you such an idea?”

“You could have told me to leave a long time ago. Or not allowed me to stay at all.”

“Whatever you may believe I may think of you, I would not shove an Assassin out of a sanctuary if he needed it.”

“Truly?”

Malik grunted in response and looked back down at his map, though he didn’t know where to start again with it. Altair wasn’t done.

“Would you be upset if I left and took the noise with me?”

“I’d have peace.”

“I don’t believe that’s an answer.”

Malik said nothing to that, feeling himself being backed into some corner somehow. Altair always had that sort of way, though he never understood it. By all rights he could belittle or shame him for acting this way to his betters, and Malik did think on this and used it to draw himself to his full height to look Altair in his eyes.

“If you excuse me, novice. I have to work.”

“As usual.” Altair nodded just a bit, eyes scoping Malik just a bit as he did. “I won’t take up much more of your time, then.”

Malik barely got out a farewell before the man was gone, white robes barely leaving a trace behind him.

----------

“Why do you do these things?” Malik asked the next time Altair came around and did the same routine, unwilling to allow him some sort of leg up. Altair was unperturbed.

“Do what things?”

“Is your existence on this world made with the purpose to upset me? Do you get some sort of pleasure from that?”

“Why would it?” He asked, still in such a measured tone, but even Malik could sense he had caught the once ‘great Assassin’ off guard.

“Because you do them so often that I’m left to wonder.”

Altair stalked closer so he was right across from Malik, the wood counter being the only divide between that and even then being nothing when only an arm shooting out to grab could be the distance breaker. Malik had his hand planted on the rough wood and leaned on it, making the distance all that much shorter any way, and Altair seemed to meet his stance just enough. He didn’t lean in, but his hands grazed the wood just enough as he started off slowly. His eyes, almost glowing golden despite the dying sun streaming in through the windows, met Malik’s.

“Whatever you believe I may think of you,” Malik recognized his words being echoed back at him but said nothing, allowing the man to continue, “you are likely wrong.”

“I believe you think of me as an inferior still. And that’s why you like to play with me.”

“I don’t play with you.”

“What’s all this then?”

“How else am I going to get your attention when you seem focused on everything but me?”

Malik found it in himself to speak again, almost caught off guard at that. Almost. 

“You need to continue to learn that not everything is about you. We don’t all exist for Altair.”

Altair said nothing at that, leaning in just a bit more. Instead of widening the distance as Malik was sure he was supposed to do, he merely stayed stuck in his spot as if he were in a vat of honey.

“I know that. And… I wish to keep learning things. Things I fear I’ve forgotten.”

“Such as what?”

It was silent and still in the Bureau as Altair leaned in one more time, his only barrier being Malik, who found himself more willing than he believed he would be.

----------

A tongue tracing on the seam of his lips, hands just as exploratory under his robes, Malik could feel himself falling deeper into the feeling evoked from the sensations, fire building somewhere deep inside of him. It was a fire he had missed for so long, something from when he was not much more than a boy, working on becoming a man in many ways. 

He was a man now, for sure. In that transformation he had lost many dear things -- family, body, maybe some of his own soul with it -- but this was something new. Not a replacement for things long gone, but… something else. Perhaps something better?

Not better.

Or yes?

This wasn’t- No.

“Don’t say you have to leave.” 

“Hmm?” Malik was brought back to the present as Altair complained, mouthing the words against his lips before pulling away a bit. His hood was down, rarely, and though something in Malik was glad to see it, it was altogether a… different sight.

“You went into your mind again the way you do when you have to leave me. Or you want to leave me.” 

“It’s not…” Malik looked from where they were sequestered in the corner, sure that no one would barge in and knowing that Altair could hide if anyone did. Still… “I’m still busy. And you’re still meant to do your business.” He somewhat playfully freed his arm and tugged Altair’s hood up a bit more.

“We have time.”

“And we’ll have more time later when I finish what I have to do. Letters to organize, recruits to manage and note-”

“I know you’re already done with those.” Altair interrupted, but there was a tinge of something more… urgent in his voice when he spoke afterwards. “I’m asking. Don’t make me do it again.”

It was quite nice. Although if Malik didn’t know better, he would have thought the man sounded desperate in a way. He even said so. But upon not receiving any reassurance to the contrary, no calls against the bluff…

“Alright, Assassin. As you say. Just a bit longer.” He conceded quietly, leaning back in to kiss Altair’s against the wall as two arms wrapped around him.

How much longer, he was unsure. And he was unsure if he would regret it. But he would give it all the same. Time was something they had so little of now, and though stopping and knowing oneself was important… He knew that, deep down, he didn’t want to stop. And he didn’t need to dig deep to know Altair wouldn’t allow that, either.

I hope you enjoyed! This was part of the Valentine’s Day Playlist Challenge, which has ended, though I will be posting requests all of the month of February and you can read more of what was posted specifically by following the tag in the bolded link above. I have a Masterpost here and more unrelated ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request! If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here but absolutely no pressure on that front. Have a wonderful day!

[mc-lukanette]

Grade for Each Other (Part 5)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Luka now understood what it was like to be Marinette when she was conflicted and overthinking things.

The single selfish cell in his body wanted so badly to answer her texts by accepting outright that their first study session can indeed be a date. Things being as they were, he wasn't so doubtful as to think that she'd put herself out there like that if she didn't have some level of interest in him. Regardless of the little voices in his head prodding about Adrien, she'd made a move and any lack or reciprocation would make it seem like he's not interested anymore.

And he was very interested, not to mention that his friends would never forgive him if they knew he'd turned down what was essentially Marinette asking him on a date.

At the same time though, his friends did often study with him. They all had different specialties and did well at helping each other, so it didn't seem fair to agree to Marinette's offer without telling them first.

Thankfully, after getting all of his feelings out with his guitar (and probably cleaning out the ears of everyone in Paris, according to Anarka), he felt mentally prepared enough to reply to Marinette's text.

I'd have to talk to my friends about what they're doing first

but know that I'd love to have a "study date date" with you, Marinette.

He was pretty sure that his heart shouldn't have been beating so fast over texts on a screen, but Marinette did things to said heart and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.

——————

Juleka had always told him that Marinette could be flaky when it came to arriving on time, which was why it surprised Luka when he walked into class and saw Marinette already sitting at their desk (he may've cracked a smile at the mental acknowledgment of it being their desk). It wasn't that he doubted her capabilities, but the Marinette he was told about tended to differ (even just slightly) from the Marinette he actually saw.

It was still surreal seeing her there, but he tried not to stand in place for long since, well, even though he didn't look at them, his friends were definitely watching him.

He headed towards Marinette, stopping just before he got behind their desk. She was staring at something in her lap that he couldn't see, a pink blush and wide smile on her face. Not wanting to be nosy, he simply stood in place, giving her the chance to hide whatever it was as he went, "Hey, Marinette. Good morning."

She jerked up, her phone - ah, so that's what it'd been - flying up into the air as she turned her head to him. "L-LUKA! Ah—good morning—" She finally noticed her aerial phone. "UM—!"

She tried to catch it, the phone being knocked back up into the air a few times by her frantic hands. It did a masterful amount of flips before she managed to get it back.

Luka dared a glance at his friends. Claudine grinned, Roche covered his mouth (probably to hide a snicker), and Mito dug into his backpack to pull out a sign with a '10' on it.

"G-good morning," Marinette said, getting back his attention. "Sorry, that was—" She lowered her head, rubbing the back of her neck. "—really embarrassing. I know I'm not usually like that around you."

He smiled reassuringly and slipped into his seat. "Don't worry about it. Everything okay?"

"Yeah! Just..." There was a hesitation there that almost reminded him of how she interacted with Adrien. She stared down at the now-black screen, running a thumb across it, then shyly admitted, "I was re-reading the text you sent me."

Oh. Oh. That—that was nothing like how she interacted with Adrien. She was just genuinely embarrassed.

And he was genuinely flustered. He even glanced down at her phone as she turned it back on and, sure enough, it was open to their conversation.

Well, those little voices were most certainly quiet now. Either that, or he was ignoring them in favor of being blissfully happy.

"Me too."

She peeked up at him. "Hm?"

He took out his phone, showing it to her as he unlocked it so she could see that he had their conversation open too. She smiled almost instantly, her blush even returning.

She placed a hand over his phone, covering the screen, then leaned in to ask quietly, "S-so, did you talk to them...?"

He shook his head. "No, but I'll ask them at lunch, promise."

After all, he would've gotten chewed out by Claudine had he told her all the details right after she'd just lectured him about being too selfless.

——————

"What we're all doing for studying?" Roche echoed as they all sat at the lunch table.

Luka nodded.

"That's not like you to ask," Mito observed, tilting his head. "What's up?"

Luka went to answer, only for Marinette to cover his mouth and sheepishly cut in, "It's because of me. I made him ask."

Claudine leaned forward with sly interest. "Oh?"

Marinette removed her hand from Luka's face, explaining, "I, ah—realized that all these lessons are going to be really new to me, so I was thinking of having a study partner, but I didn't know what you three would want to do?"

Luka found it impressive how all three of his friends raised their brows, glanced at each other, and grinned at the same time, as if the movements were coordinated. The fact that he knew they weren't coordinated at all made it even more impressive.

"Well, we wouldn't want to overwhelm you with too many helpers," Claudine claimed, "and Luka would know you best anyway. The three of us can have our own study session, no big deal."

"Are you sure?" Marinette asked.

Luka was amused at how oblivious she was to the meddling going on.

"Positive," Roche confirmed.

She nodded, unsure but not exactly unhappy either. Turning her attention back to Luka, she asked, "So, is it okay if we go to the bakery for it? Or..." She hesitated. "we could go to your place instead, if you want?"

He knew without clarification that she was thinking about Juleka; maybe not even in a fearful way, but just a concern that things would be awkward. He couldn't blame her.

"Your place is great," he assured with a smile. "It's quieter than the Liberty and I know the way even if we don't end up walking there together."

She beamed at him, then went back to focus on her food. All things considered, it was for the best; his own food was going to go cold if she kept talking to him.

He took a bite of his food, being halfway to reaching for his drink when he noticed his friends staring at him again, and not even with sly looks this time. He blinked, giving them a questioning gaze.

Roche spoke up first. "Bakery?"

"Yeah!" Marinette exclaimed, clearly not thinking. "My parents run a bakery and it's part of our house."

A silence settled over the table, the three friends seeming contemplative all of a sudden, brows furrowed with conflict. Then, without warning, Mito stood, grabbing Claudine and Roche by the back of their vest and hoodie respectively.

"Huddle."

He pulled them out of their seats and they went with him without a word, crowding in a circle with him as they whispered to each other.

Marinette paused for a few seconds before her eyes went wide. She covered her face, realizing with a groan, "I shouldn't have said bakery."

Luka chuckled. "It's alright. You’ve lived there your whole life, so of course you don’t think about it."

“Yeah...” Stiffening, she uncovered her face and turned to him. "W-wait, I mean—it's not that I'd have anything wrong with your friends, but—ah, I guess I'm just repeating what I said over our texts now..."

He honestly thought it to be adorable how she wanted to spend one-on-one time with him but simultaneously tried to be part of his friend group. It meant that she cared; that she wanted to try. She'd just gotten off from her own little friend group, so it was understandable that she wanted to ensure that there were no misunderstandings. Luka appreciated that she cared about his friends and how they felt even when she didn't know them that well yet.

"I'm sure we'll still get some time together with just us," he assured.

She blinked, then tilted her head. "Really? How do you know?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "Because they know that I'd want to spend some one-on-one time with you."

His smile was as bold as his statement.

"O-oh," she uttered, halfway to some sort of realization as she blushed. "Oh."

"Luka!" Mito whisper-called. When Luka glanced over, Mito added, "Come over here for a sec."

Marinette tossed Luka a concerned look, but he looked back at her with a reassuring one. He got out of his seat, then joined his friends waiting for him.

"We'll go for the sweets," Claudine stated bluntly, "but also to make sure you don't bring your guitar."

Luka's brows raised. "Why?"

Roche replied, "We know you. If she's there, you'll never stop playing it."

...Okay, that was fair; doubly so if Luka considered what happened the day before. He didn't know why he'd even asked.

Claudine wrapped an arm around him, leaning close to add, "Besides, maybe you won't focus either way, but it'll be better to have your hands on the books than on your guitar when we're studying. You've already got your little song sheet sitting next to you in class, and we've gotta make sure that you're reading more than just her so you can get at least half-decent grades."

That was also fair.

Luka gave them a calm smile. "Alright. I'll text you the time as soon as Marinette lets me know."

"You're letting her decide the time too?" Claudine asked playfully.

Luka paused, then turned his head to see Marinette waiting for him rather than eating, her head lowered in a show of respecting the privacy of the conversation. Though the strands of hair currently prevented him from seeing them, he knew that the earrings were there.

Looking back at his friends, Luka left it at, "She has a crazier schedule than we do."

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[deliciously-yeeted]

I was in desperate need of some beel fluff, so i wrote some. As one does. Uh, ive never done this,(posting fanfic, i normally jus write small things for myself tbh😅) before so please have mercy lol

I hope ya like it though, it put a smile on my face so im hoping it does the same for you♡

____________________________

You started filling the hem of your shirt with snacks, as many as you could fit in the scrunched up fabric that is, a tired but playful grin on your lips, as you thought over what you planned to do, mentally prepping yourself.

Normally, you're not so bold about seeking out comfort and such, feeling shy about showing vulnerability...but today, ugh, today had you particularly worn down. You needed something, affection preferably. You'd settle for a warm bath and some melatonin if you had to. Though, you really didnt want too.

You were tired of self soothing all the time. And Asmos care packages could only help so much. But you knew how to make it all magically better. There was only one option in times like these .

You worked quickly, excitement bouncing around in your gut, making your hands a little shaky.

Having grabbed all you could you carry, you practically dashed from the kitchen. Your mind set on finding a certain big demon. Last you heard, he was headed to his room for a bit. You hoped he was still there.

When you finally reached his bedroom door, you found yourself in a tad bit of a pickle. Your eyebrows furrowed, the realization that you wouldn't be able to open the door making you frown at the closed door briefly. You cursed yourself slightly, for not thinking that far ahead. You forgot in all your excitement.

Briefly you considered trying to use you feet before dropping the idea. Guess you've got no choice.

Dang it! You felt kinda bummed that you'd be losing the element of surprise, but the grin soon returned, thinking about seeing Beel always you happy, regardless of the circumstances.

"Beeeeellllllllllll!" You called out, letting a bit of a whine into your voice, hey, who knows? Maybe it'd get him in front of you faster?? He tended to be on the slower side of answering his door, sometimes he simply didnt hear it. Especially if he was working out or watching tv.

Apparently, whining his name did not speed him up:(

You were about to call out again, worried he hadn't heard you, when the door clicked open. The mere sound making you feel slightly giddy. Your eyes snapping up to meet his briefly. You soaked in as many details of him as you could, without just straight ogling him, before flicking your eyes back up to meet his.

"Y/n?" He seemed pleasantly surprised, dressed in a black tank top and grey sweats (you were happy to see him wearing them, because while he looked like a whole ass meal in them, it also meant he had no plans of leaving the house tonight).

His eyes were quick to find the odd lumps wrapped up in your shirt, as well as the bit of tummy peaking out. The position you held your shirt in had caused the bottom of your stomach to show, something you had worried about on the way here, anxious about a different brother catching a glimpse of you. You could feel his stare burn against your skin, he was about to say something, but then his nose twitched, and his eyes fixed on your bundle of snacks instead.

-

Not that you minded his staring your stomach, not with Beel.

The others...maybe.

Your tummy was one of his favorite parts about you, he's hands finding their way under your shirt to touch and squeeze the soft flesh more often than not. Always gentle and non intrusive. I think he'd full on cry if he accidentally upset you somehow tbh.

Boy had absolutely no shame about it, once he learned you didnt mind much.

Especially when you seemed to be a bit shy about showing your stomach, with the others, or just in general. He made sure to let you know how much he loved your squish. Be it at RAD or just casually in the house.

The only person who ever raised a fuss over it was Mammon, although, he tended to fuss over everything you did anyways;; His protests did absolutely nothing to deter you or Beel, much to his dismay.

Sometimes, if Beel was hungry and needed a distraction or a quick 'pick me up', he'd scoop you up and just shove his face into your tummy. (Much like what I do with my cat when I'm bored and/or sad) Then he'd just hold you there until he absolutely had to let you down.

Relishing in the feel of your softness and you heart racing under your skin, fluttering so delicately under his lips, pressing his face against you was an instant mood lifter for him.

You loved it, a surprised but delighted laugh always ripping from your chest, almost subconsciously. You couldn't hide your happiness in his affections, not that you would want to (thats a lie, you cant help but be embarrassed at the end of the day by the intensive joy you felt whenever you looked at him). Which only seemed to motivate him even more, and soon each time he scooped you up, he'd kiss all over your tummy, making you giggle because it tickled, before hugging you close with a small sigh.

-

"I brought snacks, and some cuddles. So uhm, can I nap on you for a bit? 'M tired. Unless your busy or something..." you beam up at him, starting to hesitate toward the end, suddenly a little unsure.

"Pretty please?? I wont bug ya, I promise." You plead, pulling your best puppy dog eyes, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. His eyes widened as his brain processed what you said, and the cute sight in front of him. If he was being honest, it made his brain stop for a split second.

He chuckled at you and lifted you up by the back of your knees, holding you carefully to his chest, mindful of your full shirt. A small startled squeak coming from you as he did so, a sound he never got tired of hearing.

You glanced in the room as he closed to door, he had papers sprawled over the small coffee table in the middle of the room, and a few (you spotted more in the trash bin in the corner) empty food wrappers around his work space. He plopped down in front of the table again, taking only a few steps to reach it. You were kind of jealous, your short legs never being a fair match against his. Luckily he enjoyed carrying you, which solved that issue right quick.

"You can keep me company while I finish my homework." He says, shifting you into his lap and keeping a loose hold on your lower stomach, fingers splaying out to get a small feel of your exposed skin. Glancing around, you dont see belphies mop of hair in his bed, he was probably sleeping in the attic or the observatory, you quietly hum to yourself, abit happy to have Beel all to yourself for the moment. Shifting forward, Beels hands refusing to let you go and setting on your waist, you hold your shirt above the edge of the table, and let the snacks spill from your shirt before smoothing the garment back down, missing Beels frown as he looses sight of your tummy. Quickly moving to organize the snacks a bit, so that they were within reach and not scattered all over his papers and in the way.

"Thank you, your the bestest!!" You say, the dull ache in your arms more than worth the effort in your opinion.

You tilted your head back so you can look up at him. Making eye contact with him made your brain kinda just...mush. Your hands slowly squeezing his on your waist, lifting them so you move a bit.

You tore you gaze from his, before turning around and wrapping your arms around his nack and your legs around his torso,(like a koala in his opinion).

Scooting as close as you could get away with, (your not as stealthy as you give yourself credit for, he knows, he just too nice to tease you for it, and he doesn't want you to stop), so you could snuggle up to him and be comfy at the same time. Which wasn't all that hard to do with him, being the teddy bear he is.

Your eyes glazed over slightly, and you were distracted as you mind pulled your attention away.

Ah, you were in pure bliss, you could die happy like this~

You had grabbed plenty of snacks, being sure to vary in your choices, knowing Beel would like to have options, and hoping to be able to buy some extra time with him and a cute Beel smile as a reward for your effort. Tho, youd do it anyways.

Not that you'd ever admit to that. Nuh uh, no way. Unless he asked nicely, you'd give in embarrassingly fast if he ever did, the realization making your face heat up.

But...

Embarrassment be damned, youd never tell Beel 'No'.

He looks down at you, face going all blushy and soft at your slightly dazed and flushed expression. Your thoughts getting the best of you for a moment. Shaking your head slightly and letting out a resigned sigh.

"Of course you can," you snap out of it when he speaks up, looking up at him, quick to give him your full attention. "I love when you cuddle up with me, it helps me focus a bit. You didn't have to bribe me, though, as long as its you, my cuddles come free-" wrapping his arms around your shoulders, giving you a snug hug, he moves to continue. "Not that I'm complaining-" you cut him off, feeling slightly guilty about it. You were already flustered, and his sweet words weren't helping your predicament one bit. That was until your eyes actually focus on his face, oh sweet hell, hes so precious!!! Your heart thumps nearly painfully for a moment, nerves biting into your thoughts.

Your face was definitely beat red now, you could feel it at the tips of your ears even. Yet you refused to move, your eyes locked on his. A rare occurrence, one you could tell he was basking in, his eyes were glued to your face, studying it. His flush deepening slightly.

Squishing his cheeks and "shushing" him gently. Your basically cooing at him, to tired suddenly to care much about how your words or actions came off. The nervousness slipping away from your voice and movements. "Its not a bribe hun, I just felt like seeing you smile before I fell asleep on you. Heh, your smile is my goodluck charm for good dreams, ya know?" You tiredly rub his cheek with your thumb, eyes lit up happily and content. Giving him a small breathless laugh at the end.

He really did calm you down, your mind slowing down as the excitement started to fade, a fact you became overly aware of quite suddenly, your eyes feeling quite heavy now that you felt safe.

You yawned, your weariness catching up to you.

Beels quick to notice, taking note of the bags under your eyes. Dont worry, he'll make sure you get some good sleep, no bad dreams were gonna plague you on his watch. He glances over at the snacks you brought, unbelievably happy. Seeing you so cutely curled up to him, the fact that you brought him as much food as you could carry(a sight he nearly died from when he saw it) and your sweet sweet words, it definitely warmed his heart to say in the least.

He loved that you actually came to find him, just so you could cuddle. His adoration for you is bottomless, just like his hunger.

So, Beel wraps you inna big bear hug, pulling you closer and peppering the top of your head and face with kisses. He gives you a big grin, his eyes sparkling happily. "Nap, I'll wake you up when I'm done and we can hangout till dinner."

You tiredly nod, relaxing against him.

Grabbing a baggy of chips, he smooches your forehead, before tucking your face under his chin so he could munch, and see his work(not like that was much of an issue, beels a big boy after all👀), without completely covering the top of your head in crumbs (you'd told him you didn't mind, especially since he always ruffled your hair to get then out, and you loved that...but he still feels bad about it and tries to avoid it to some extent) and being able to rest his chin on top your head was just the cherry on top for him.

💗Happy beel mode activated💗

Sighing happily, you close your eyes. Beels cuddles making all your stress melt away, just like they always did. Slowly, you start to drift off, listening to the soft scratch of his pen as he starts to work and his deep breathing, letting it lull you into sleep.

I dont know why my brain wanted me to got all out on this. I literally jus couldn't stop tweaking with it. Imma post if before i decide to change it. Imma just conveniently forget i wrote this now, maybe ill like it more after a week or two... :/ also if theres any spelling or grammar issues plz tell me, its like 2am rn so im sure i missed something

[newobsessioneveryweek]

Brook's Writing Tips #1

Write the dialogue first. It's not for everyone, but it can help to get an overview of a scene before you flesh out the details. If you've got an idea of how a scene should play out write the dialogue and skeleton actions in between. An example would be something like the following:

"This is all your fault!"

*punches a wall*

"You need to calm down before you break your fingers!"

Later on, you can add details and descriptions.

Don't wax poetic when the situation doesn't call for it. Poetry is usually complex in its description in an especially abstract way which usually makes writing seem slow and hard to process for readers. For characters, when their thoughts are poetic then that usually means they're taking in a lot of detail at once and if it's described in a very long-winded way it can make a panicked situation seem too drawn-out and overall not as panicked as you might want it to seem. However, when the scene is very romantic or emotion-filled then poetic language can be a powerful tool when describing complex or otherwise indescribable emotions. Just be sure that your writing isn't too convoluted or dense, though.

Don't be afraid to make bold or baffling statements as an opening line. Following a statement such as "The greatest tragedy of my life is being a writer" with the ever-classic "Okay, let me start from the beginning" can be an interesting way to introduce the plot. This is just one example, but it can be really fun to play around with cyclic plot structure.

Don't get trapped by common errors! Something I've noticed a lot in writing is the incorrect use of each other/one another. Just remember that each other is only used when talking about 2 people whereas one another is used when talking about more than 2 people. Always check for common errors! Also, your and you're, through and threw, and they're, their and there are especially common errors. Watch out for those.

If you find it difficult to find one word or term for something, just write down exactly what you're thinking (or use the site One Look Thesaurus). Sometimes the word you're looking for doesn't exist and you should just describe the action or feeling the best or most concise way you can.

Do your research! If you aren't writing what you know, at least try to find a semi-credible source about the topic you're tackling. A little example would be disinfecting wounds with alcohol. Writers tend to make the mistake that all alcohol can be used as a disinfectant. That is false. Drinking alcohol is as good as tap water as a disinfectant and pouring an entire bottle of vodka on an open wound will do little to stave away infection. If you can't find a credible source, make use of online forums like Quora where ordinary people and professionals give advice and accounts of their experiences.

Who and whom are not interchangeable! Let's say that you're writing dialogue and you're unsure whether to use who or whom. The sentence is "To _ do I owe the pleasure?". If you need to check for the correct use of who/whom, ask yourself this question: how would this question be answered? In this case, the answer to "To _ do I owe the pleasure" will be "I owe him the pleasure" therefore the correct word to use would be whom. If the answer was he then the correct word would be who. For example, if someone were to ask "_ is at the door?" and the answer was "He is at the door" then who would be the correct word to use. Same goes with she/who and her/whom or they/who and them/whom.

Dashes are important! When a term represents one idea such as all-encompassing and self-indulgent then it requires a dash to show that it means one thing. If you say "it was all encompassing" the question would be asked "what is it encompassing?" because without the dash you are implying that those words are separate ideas and that all of something is encompassing something, which doesn't make sense (much like this description XD but I hope you get it anyway).

Remember subject-verb agreement/concord. Always ask yourself "is the subject plural or singular?" and make sure the verb corresponds. 

Adverbs always end in -ly. Always. That’s just how it is.

Sentences should never end on a preposition. Or at least that's, quote-unquote, 'proper English' but writers and poets can take some liberties with formal English. Fuck the Romans.

If any of this was too confusing hmu and I'll try to explain it better.

[colinfawcett]

when: October 31 and November 1, 1980

Halloween was a busy night for a single man with a four year old and his own ghost tour business.

The night began with trick-or-treating with some of his Muggle friends and their children. Simon insisted on dressing up as his favorite stuffie, Wally the Common Welsh Green. If Simon declared the specific breed of his dragon costume too loudly and the wings on his costume occasionally moved on their own just like the stuffie’s, well, what was Halloween if not a night when a little magic could be laughed off? Even the wings didn’t catch much attention though as the children ran up and down the narrow streets, giggling as they cried trick or treat and gathered their candy before running off to the next door.

Once Simon had ingested enough sugar to guarantee an Earth shattering sugar crash, Colin left him with their incredibly patient neighbor. Mrs. Henderson had practically adopted both Colin and Simon as soon as they moved into the building over a year ago, and she was always willing to help with the babysitting night shifts. “It’s going to be a late one, with the holiday and everything,” Colin said apologetically, trying to ignore the way his son was humming a song that sounded suspiciously similar to the latest WWN record that used dragon fire as a metaphor for less child-appropriate things.

Mrs. Henderson waved him on. “It’s alright dear, I have always been a bit of a night owl, you know that. Have fun with the tourists.” It was the same thing she said every time, and she had yet to turn him down for babysitting, so Colin took her word for it and left.

The tour went off without any issues, which was also worth remarking on in itself for a Halloween. He didn’t run into especially flamboyant adults wearing cloaks or find himself in the unenviable position of trying to keep Muggles distracted while something clearly magical even by Halloween standards happened behind them. Even the ghosts seem to notice it was unusually quiet, based on the two friars he overheard arguing about whether they had lost all track of time or magical folk had simply finally grown beyond the need to prank their Muggle counterparts on Halloween.

Colin didn’t pay them any mind. Rather than telling a story about a couple of religious scholars who couldn’t stop arguing even centuries later, he told a story about an arsonist nun, a story that was both spookier and more likely to get him decent tips (even though the monks had complained about its veracity more than once).

The tour ended at a “haunted” pub, and Colin accepted a couple of drinks from satisfied customers. He preferred to be paid in real money, but when one kind of tip tended to lead to the other, he couldn’t complain too much.

Between the chatty patrons at the pub, the drinks, and his own sugar crash from the candy he’d managed to steal when Simon wasn’t looking, Colin was practically dead on his feet by the time he dragged himself to his neighbor’s door after midnight. It took longer than usual for Mrs. Henderson to answer his knock, and she opened the door slowly as if unsure who would be there. As he walked in and scooped up the predictably sleeping Simon from her couch, she mentioned something about a strange breaking news bulletin, something about “witches among us, real ones, they’re saying” and “even old Maggie was in on it”. Colin was too tired to process it, so he just nodded at the right moments and then waited for a long enough pause to excuse himself.

It wasn’t Simon was settled in his own bed, Wally clutched in his tiny arms, that everything started making sense. He flipped through the typical Muggle channels on the television to the special channel he could only hope that Simon never figured out how to tune to on his own. The radio was safer, generally speaking, but with the silence of the last few weeks, he’d had to get more... bold in getting his wizarding news. Instead of the typical late night chatter he expected, he was faced with the looks of stunned news anchor who looked as if they couldn’t believe their own words. 

“…declares the Statute of Secrecy officially broken in the UK as of 12:01am, 1 November 1980. The barrier separating our world from theirs has fallen.”

Colin froze for a moment before running his hand over his face with a sigh. Well, that would certainly make his tours more interesting for the next few weeks.