#do NOT let me start writing this i have TOO MANY wips

[firein-thesky]

enemies to lovers with wyll who thinks he can save you

[ao3commentoftheday]

Do you have too many WIPs? Do you want to clear some of them out?

It's easy to start a new WIP but not so easy to go beyond that. This is a periodic reminder that not everything needs to be finished. It's also a reminder that sometimes you can go back to an old WIP with fresh eyes and what was once impossible to write now seems easy.

Choose one of your WIPs and try these steps to see if you can clear it out.

Before you open it or reread it:

How does this work make me feel?

Why did I stop writing it?

Do I want to open this document and reread it?

Why is this work still lingering in my "to do" pile?

Delete or abandon or orphan or give away any WIPs that you don't actually want to write.

After you open it or reread it:

How does this work make me feel?

Can I identify the problem I had or the reason I was stuck or why I lost my motivation?

Do I know what needs to happen next (or later in the story)?

Will a time jump or skipping scenes help?

Can I write a disconnected scene that interests me right now?

Can I write a transition?

Can I edit what is already there and make it easier for me to move past my block?

Do I want to do any of the above, or would I rather abandon this work?

Do this for 1 WIP or for all of them or something in between. Any works that are still in progress, you can either continue working on actively or put away until your next review. Any that you don't actually want to write, you can delete or abandon or orphan or give away.

Note: If you are writing for a fandom event, contact the organizers and let them know that you won't be able to complete your work. Events usually have authors lined up who are willing to "pitch hit" and complete a work if the original creator isn't able to.

[physalian]

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

[sepherinaspoppies]

hunger - michael gavey x reader

summary: the things Michael does for a crunchie bar.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of oral m receiving, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, f squirting.

wc: 2,366

masterlist

notes: my first time writing for Michael lol. yes I did watch the movie and im still appalled by it (too much dick). like all of us, I wish Ewan had more screen time on this cause I felt pretty bad for Michael. he just wanted a friend 😩. I plan on writing another fic about him but when? idk I have too many wips

She uses the pad of her thumb to collect the line of cum that had trickled down the corners of her lips. Bringing the digit back into her mouth to suck off the pearly white liquid, all while seductively gazing at the disheveled boy that sat on the edge of her bed. 

Michael let out a breathy moan, feeling his softened cock rousing back to life as he watched her throat swallow every bit of him again. She hums at the taste, salty with a hint of caramel from all those fucking crunchy bars he devours everyday when she’d seem him in class. 

She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly. 

“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm. 

Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes. She grabs his hand and doesn’t fail to notice it was a bit clammy with nerves, and it almost made her feel slightly bad about continuing but the way his blue eyes darkened when she directed his hand toward the hem of her floral dress, made her think differently. 

His fingers work at lifting up her dress. A deep shade of crimson floods his perfectly sculpted cheeks as he awkwardly and neatly folded her dress on the side of her nightstand. She giggled at his adorableness, she wasn’t as gentle as he was with her clothing. After, when they made their deal about what they wanted from each other, she clawed out his clothes and scattered them somewhere across her room, having no regard for them.  

Once she made quick work at getting rid of her bra, Michael’s eyes widened in amazement as if had just received the perfect gift he always wanted. His fingers twitched, longing to touch what was right in front of him but she knew deep down he was holding himself back. 

“I-um- I don’t know what to do” he admits sheepishly. 

She knows this, having it heard and confirmed by Felix and Oliver when they were at the pub with a group of their friends. 

She gives him a reassuring smile before straddling his lap, “I’ll teach you” 

Michael’s face reddened even more if it was possible. His gaze lingered on her lips, then a back up to her eyes giving her a silent look for permission to kiss her lips to which she nodded fervently. 

He wastes no time to crash his lips to hers, leaning his head forward to deepen the kiss. She moans, unsure if Michael knew how to kiss but even then she was willing to teach him if it need be. She moves her knees to get closer to Michael, her bare breasts scraping tightly against his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck desperately needing him to be closer than they already were. 

She whines softly into the kiss as she swipes her tongue over Michael’s bottom lip. Michael moans in response, parting his lips open to let her gain access and she seizes the opportunity to dance her tongue against his own. Michael furrows his brows in concentration, taking mental notes on how exactly she liked to be kissed by the way he strokes his tongue synchronously with hers and the soft little moans that follow out of her lips. 

She pulls away, a hint of chocolate and mint lingering on her lips, as she yearns for more of him between her legs. She almost wants to continue kissing him as she watches Michael’s blue eyes slowly flutter open and his lower lip curling into a pout, mewling at the loss of contact. 

“We can kiss more after, if you want. Right now, I need you to return the favor” She pants, out of breath. Michael mends his pout into an eager smile that makes her chuckle. For such an arrogant know-it-all he sure had a way of being cute. 

She lifts herself up by the help of Michael’s shoulders, crawling over the middle of her bed to rest her back against the duvet. “Ready?” She asks, wiggling her brows enthusiastically, already feeling giddy deep in her stomach. 

Michael nods as he slowly adjusted to sit between her legs, his curious eyes never leaving her damp covered center, his pink tongue sweeping over his lips quickly practically already tasting her. 

“Take of my panties, Gavey” 

She hears Michael audibly whimper as his quivering fingers hook to the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off and causing her to release a shudder over the coolness of his fingertips. 

Michael brushed his fingers against the garment of her underwear, studying it before he brought it to his nose, deeply inhaling the juices that were caused by being in the mere presence of him, from having him inside her mouth, around her hands, his kiss…

There was something so hot and erotic about it, seeing the guy who always picks on her for not being as smart as he was, sniffing her juices like he was a starved man. She moaned at his actions even more so when he quickly bent over the bed and stuffed her underwear into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, probably saving it for later. 

She bites back a protest. Those were her favorite pair but she supposes she can spare them for now. 

Michael resumed his previous position in between her thighs. This time his face laid just centimeters away from her glistening core. She can feel his hot ragged breath fanning over the little patch of curls above her cunt, and very faintly she can hear Michael murmur “christ” under his breath. 

She props herself on her elbows, “Give me your hand” Michael releases another shaky breath before he allows her to direct his hand to cup her mound. 

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, Michael?” 

Michael groans, desperate for some friction he grinds his cock on the bed. He can feel it. He can feel his hand soaked with her arousal. Michael wants to pull back and lick everybit clean off his hand. 

“That’s- that’s my clit” She informs Michael with a strain voice as she runs his index finger through her folds. Michael stares at her engorged bud, having remembered studying it from his anatomy class and how it brought him great curiosity. Now, he was face to face with it and nothing could prepare how much excitement it brought him. 

“The clit is very important. It’s where most of our pleasure comes from. Just pay adequate attention to it and gently circle it-” 

She isn’t sure of the noises that leave her mouth, only feeling Michael beginning to circle her bud in a manner where not even most guys she’s been with have done so. It’s unhurried, unsure and gentle but it’s enough for her to feel waves of pleasure up her spine and her toes curling against the duvet. 

“Oh! Michael” She moans, arching her back and unintentionally caging Michael’s head between her thighs. 

Michael pulls his finger quickly like lightning away from her bud, his face showing a bit of concern. “What? What’s wrong? Was this not to your liking? I can try-” 

“No, no. You’re doing great, really. I-I just, well, I like it and I meant it in a good way” She reassures him with a smile, a slight warmth shoots to her cheeks. 

God, was she blushing at Michael fucking Gavey? Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan or the agreement! 

“Oh, I see” Michael smirks before lowering his head, “Can I use my tongue?” She almost wants to desperately scream ‘YES’ and grind herself against his face but she instead nods and that was enough of a response for Michael as he flattens the tip of his tongue where her clit was.  

Her back arches again, instinctively, feeling Michael’s tongue circle her bud and sweep through her folds all while he keeps his lustful gaze on her, watching the way her face contorts into different forms of pleasure and the audible moans and gasps he hears when he flicks his tongue in a rhythm he notes she likes. 

Michael soon also finds himself moaning at the way she tastes. It was a flavor so sweet. Sweeter than the chocolate of his crunchy bars he so religiously ate. How could he ever tire of her taste? 

Her chest begins to heave, her stomach feeling fuzzy and tight. She was nearing her first orgasm in weeks. 

But then suddenly something unexpected happens. Michael hooks her thighs under his arms, bringing her cunt closer to his face. His red and swollen lips closed in around her clit, tenderly sucking. His actions along with the vibrations of his moans, sends hot shocks of pleasure that she feels the band in her stomach about to snap. 

“Michaelllll. I’m about to-to cum” She cries, feeling orgasm seconds away from releasing. 

“Really?” Michael mumbles with an exciting look in his eyes. She hums, her hands no longer fisting the duvet but instead gripping Michael’s hair. 

Michael continues to lap at her core at the same rhythm he notices she likes, working his tongue quicker until he feels the meaty flesh of her thighs close in on his head and tremble. 

“Michael! Yes! Yes!!!” She chants so loudly that both her and Michael know everyone in the dorm floor would listen. She couldn’t bring herself to care about everyone listening. The genius math nerd in all of Oxford just gave her the best head in the world. 

Michael drinks in her release and this time he is able to pinpoint what flavor she reminds him of. 

Honey. 

She mewls softly. Her body feels weak and tired like she had just ran the longest marathon in her life. “So good, Michael. You did such a good job” She praises, giving the cunt-drunk man between her thighs a lazy smile as she brushes the damp hair away from his face. 

A blush creeps into Michael’s cheeks, a sense of pride fills his senses. He knows he wants more now that she let him taste her. Michael supposes she could give him another taste to satisfy his hunger. She was right there for the taking. Why not? 

“What are you doing?” She curiously asks, peering over as Michael dips his head again making her eyes widen in amazement.

“Michael, wait. We agreed just… Oh fuck!” Her back arches, hands gripping her breasts and a series of gasps leave her lips as Michael redoubles his efforts and works his tongue at an incredible speed that makes tears leave the corners of her eyes over the sensitivity. 

Michael was getting skilled at this. Too skilled with tongue. 

The thin metal of Michael’s glasses dug at her thighs, his face tightly pressed at her core as he growled devotedly. Had she just accidentally created a feral animal? Fuck. 

This time she feels herself ascending closer to her peak more than usual. Her legs involuntarily begin to tremble and her mind feels fuzzy as she has no more strength to fight the waves of pleasure Michael was awarding. 

“Michael” She cries, unsure why. 

Michael, however, lost in his pleasure instinctively comes up with an idea. He unhooks one of his hands around her thigh and brings one of his fingers toward her entrance, plunging inside her walls in and out and curses at the way she clenches around his finger. 

“No, no, no. Stay” Michael mumbles as her hips buckle away from his ministrations. 

This was all getting too much for her. But she does what she’s told and stays and her body violently trembles one last time until she feels the pressure deep in her belly explode and her vision going absolutely blank. 

Has she died and gone to heaven? Cause fuck!

She doesn’t seem to remember how to breathe or pick up the surprise yelps from Michael. She was absolutely drained and spent. 

“Are-are you okay down there?” She asks, panting, gathering whatever strength she had left to peer down between her thighs. Michael’s round blue eyes look up at her in shock. His face, coated with much of her juices. Even his glasses had not been spared. A palm sized wet patch soaked her bedding. 

Did Michael fucking Gavey make me squirt? 

“I’m sorry that's the first time that ever happened to me. Wait here, let me get a towel to clean you up” She stammers as she begins to crawl out of her bed but Michael’s hand wraps around her ankle, preventing her. 

“No need. I quite liked it” He blinks as cleans his face with his fingers, licking away her arousal like the embarrassing thing she did not happen. 

He plops himself next to her on the bed, landing with a heavy thud. “So” Michael trails with a smirk, his head resting on his elbow. “Did I earn my reward?” 

She scoffs playfully. How could she forget their deal? 

She was walking to her class earlier on the day when she spotted Michael pouding and cursing at a vending machine for eating the last cash he had on him. She evilly laughed at him before she nonchalantly walked over to the vending machine and purchased the last two crunchy bars while waving it on his face. Truthfully, she did not find chocolate as pleasing as he did. Michael had scoffed before he followed her like a lost puppy, telling her he’d pay her back the next day. A wicked plan forged inside her head in a way he could pay her back. 

“Here” She slams the two golden bars against his chest after she retrieved them from her bag. Michael smiles and mutters a ‘thanks’ as he unwraps his treat and brings her body to rest against his chest. 

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl

empty is who I couldn't tag sorry :/

if you'd like to be tag on my general taglist click here

[zh-lele]

12-7 ROOM (part two)

Surviving a week to Donghyuck's charms and jokes can't be so hard... Worst case scenario, you end up completely falling for your brother's best friend.

▪︎Pairing: brother's best friend!Hyuck x fem reader

▪︎Genres: poor attempt at rom com, fluff

▪︎Warnings: alcohol consumption, profanity, suggestive jokes, kissing, and some very light suggestive scenes.

▪︎Word count (part 2): 7721 words

playlist | extra content: mc's IG stories

Author's note: hi everyone :') sorry for being so absent and never posting the final part to 12-7 room. But hey, I finally got the motivation to do it. I've been also writing other things but I don't know when I'll finsih them or post them. Anyways, if you want to take a look, the other things I'm always working on are listed on my wips page. Once again, sorry for taking too long to post this and I hope someone can enjoy it anyway. Thank you so much for the love on part 1! Seriously, thank you. This isn't proof read so tell me if you find any mistakes, please and thank you. Enjoy!

Saturday, 08:37 p.m.

"I feel like we're betraying Mark."

"Why?"

"We're having a sleepover without him," you explain to Donghyuck while you extend your left hand to him, and he places his right hand over your palm, so you can continue painting his nails with a black polish. "You know, we're listening to Bruno Mars, eating watermelon–"

"Aren't we supposed to eat watermelon in the summer?" Donghyuck interrupts you to ask.

"Real watermelon enjoyers eat watermelon no matter what time of the year it is–Hyuck!" you scream after he makes a sudden move to grab a piece of fruit from the bowl and half his index finger ends up covered in black nail polish. "Stop moving your hand!"

"I'm sorry!"

He apologizes and stays still in front of your body, legs crossed and knees touching yours. Donghyuck is so close you can feel his breath in your hair, and even though you know it's impossible for him to hear your heart-rate increasing exponentially, you fear the closeness and the intimacy may give you away. Honestly, by this time you thought you might have figured it out: you had to either rethink your relationship and conclude that you were only going to be friends forever, or accept your feelings and confess to him, no matter what the outcome could be.

But you find yourself finishing Donghyuck's nails and looking up to him, who was–as more often as you thought–already looking at you. He smiles to you sweetly, no teeth on sight, and he looks ridiculous. Donghyuck is wearing a sheet mask with the form of a peach, yet you still find the sight in front of you incredibly endearing. The worst part about it is that you're looking as ridiculous as him, with the lemon-shaped sheet mask covering your face. You feel his thumb gently caress the back of your hand that he was still holding even long after you've finished. And as his soft features are illuminated by the warm dim lights of the lamp and the TV, as he holds your hand and looks at you as if you might be the prettiest lemon he has seen, you get that feeling again.

The comfort, the domesticity. The urge to be his companion, to share moments like this and many more. Every day.

Your phone buzzes as you set an alarm to take the masks off twenty minutes ago.

Donghyuck lets your hand go. He lets go of your heart too—but only for a second. He cradles your face, his soft fingertips pet your jaw, then your cheeks, and you can't hold his gaze anymore. You want to look down, drop your head before you start word-vomiting everything you're feeling and you've been feeling for him since the moment you met, since that first time he cooked ramen for you and you decided you wanted it to be your comfort food forever.

Donghyuck won't let you look down, though. He applies pressure with his fingers in the place where your neck and your jaw meet and with his thumbs on your cheeks. Your lips naturally pout under the pressure and you see it. Donghyuck. Your best friend. The guy you've liked forever now, looking at your lips for what you think it's been like the fourth time this weekend. And it's only been hours since the weekend started.

Is it really going to happen? Are you about to kiss Donghyuck right now? On the living room's couch on a saturday night in, under the dim lights, while Silk Sonic's Love's Train plays in the background and you're wearing fruit-shaped sheet masks?

It is fucking romantic.

Yet it never comes.

It doesn't happen.

Donghyuck just says: "It's time to take the masks off."

And you agree because, well, what the hell are you supposed to do? Just throw yourself all over him like you, maybe, have been imagining? Donghyuck takes your mask off your skin and you take his, that leaves his face looking the softest and smelling like sweet peaches. That definitely doesn't help your situation.

You're incredibly frustrated. Upset, even, like a kid who got denied his candy. (You wish Donghyuck was your candy.) You hate this sleepover now and even wish Mark was here to cock-block the entire situation. That would be less upsetting.

"And?" He asks once both of you have your masks off. "Do I look cuter now?"

Oh, so he's aware he's already incredibly cute.

You can't contain a smile. He's only centimeters away from you after he quickly moves back to look for his glasses. You feel the need to poke his cheeks that look as soft as marshmallows and smell like fucking peaches. Actually, you might feel the need to eat him.

But you don't dare say anything. Only trying to hide your smile looking down, as your face grows red, you let Donghyuck think of his own conclusions after your reaction.

Thing is, you're kind of a coward.

Donghyuck says it's time to netflix and chill, and you laugh because the statement is followed by a "Literally. Don't start thinking about something dirty."

He places himself on the mattress on the floor (the one you've been sleeping since you arrived), a bunch of pillows supporting his back, and makes room for you. He's cheeky enough to pat his stomach to tell you to lie there, between his legs and over his body. Just like that, as if you hadn't been melting before just by holding his hand in yours or having your knees touch. And now he wants you to lie on his stomach?

Are you really that close? If so, why isn't he your boyfriend yet?

You open your eyes wider and point a finger at yourself. "Me. Me?" Your voice comes out full of disbelief.

"Not you. Mark," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Of course it's you! Unless you don't want to lay together?"

"I mean…"

How do you make it sound not so desperate, not too obvious?

You just shrug and say, "Yeah, sure."

Aced it.

Donghyuck's body feels like the softest mattress you've ever laid on, like you could close your eyes and sleep trapped in his limbs forever. And because of the closeness, you can sense the vibrations of his voice traveling from his torso to your ears. His tone is quiet and gentle, talking about what to watch to no one in particular because, even though he's talking to you, you're too concentrated on opening your camera and capturing the moment in a video of the two of you.

"Look how cute," you say, moving your arm to his eye level to show him the video. "You talk in pout when you're really concentrated."

When you're conscious of the surroundings once again, you're sure you've replayed the video with a smile on your face like ten times.

"You should upload that."

"I've posted enough about you," you reply to his suggestion, going back and saving the video to your drafts. "People are gonna think you're my boyfriend or whatever…"

"Would that be so bad?" Donghyuck questions with his eyes fixed on the TV screen. When you move your head back to look up at him, he dares to connect eyes with you. "People thinking I'm your boyfriend?"

Sunday, 12:02 p.m.

Donghyuck had always been clingy.

Yet you didn't know he could be this clingy in the mornings.

Mark has been trying to get Donghyuck out of bed for like ten minutes now, but he won't get up. While your brother is pulling his arm out, Donghyuck pulls Mark's arm in, asking him to join him and sleep 'just a little more'.

Yes, your brother found you both sleeping on the mattress in the living room. No, you and Donghyuck were not clinging to each other (sadly). But Hyuck was for sure clinging to your brother now.

"Mark!" He protests in a sleepy tone. "What do you want if you won't come in?"

"We were supposed to have brunch together," your brother tells Donghyuck again, yet he must be too sleepy to process what's happening.

"I won't go." Donghyuck states and doesn't even open his eyes again. The living room is clear enough, as the winter sun has been hitting for hours now. But it isn't an impediment for him to curl up under the blankets like a burrito and go back to sleep.

Mark drops his shoulders and allows himself to sigh, finally defeated by his heavy-sleeper best friend. "I guess it's just you and me, y/n."

—

Fortunately for you, the weather has been amazing since you arrived in the city where your brother lives. Saturday was no different, with a clear blue sky above your heads despite it being winter, and the sun shining just the right amount to touch your skin and leave it warm. A little breeze messes with you and your brother's freshly dyed hair as you sit outside a coffee shop, brunch almost all devoured on the table. Mark hums to a familiar jazzy tune that plays all the way from inside the café.

And the atmosphere is beautifully calm. But you need to get something out of your chest. For once.

"So," you start and Mark moves eyes from his food to set them on you, expectant of your next words with a mouth full of pancakes and fruit. "I think I like Donghyuck."

Mark starts coughing after hearing you, and you wonder if it is because of the shock of your confession or because he really is that careless to get the food stuck in his throat.

"Yeah, I knew," he confirms once it's clear for him to speak again.

"The fuck you mean 'you knew'?"

"I mean, honestly, it's pretty obvious." Your brother can't hide a smile. He drops the fork to properly talk to you this time. "Like, you've always had some kind of thing… I don't know, I thought I had a special connection with Hyuck," he says pointing at himself, eyes wide with what could look like a little bit of shock. "But you two… You two are something else."

"Oh God," you cover your face in embarrassment even though after your brother's words there's no point in hiding anything anymore. "So you've been watching me acting like a fool in love around Donghyuck all this time, and you said nothing."

"I didn't say anything 'cuz I thought it had to come from you." He shrugs. "Wanted you to feel comfy enough to tell me, even though I had my suspicions, obviously."

"May I ask… Why," you hesitate a little before asking for a third-person perspective. "Why were you suspicious about it?"

"Dude, I don't know," a small laughter escapes him. "You just look like you'd be all over each other if you could."

You just groan in frustration hearing your brother saying you might have been way more obvious than you thought you were. Temperature rises to your cheeks coloring them a little red, and not because of the midday sun hitting right from above your head.

"And you can," Mark says, yet you don't get it, the tilting of your indicating he has to clarify. "Like, you can be all over each other. I don't know why nothing has happened between the two of you yet."

"'Cuz I don't know if he likes me?"

"How could you know if you don't try?"

Your gaze drops to your lap, and you realize you've been playing with the rings of your hands, taking them off and putting them on over and over, indicating the conversation is making you a little nervous.

Mark must notice, since he keeps talking. "Just tell him, dude. Best case scenario, he also likes you, you move out together and make me free from Donghyuck's ass."

The way he puts it makes you laugh, yet there's a slight weight to your eyes, as if tears could start falling down slowly at any time after holding your feelings in for so long. So you take a deep breath, blink a few times and look at the sun.

The sun, shining in its maximum splendor in the middle of the sky. And you wonder what he's doing right now. Donghyuck, or Haechan, as his mother used to call him when he was little. Full Sun, because he's always so bright and energetic, like a happy virus (Mark would also call him a pain in the ass, but you see, it depends on who you ask.)

"Worst case scenario, you remain as good friends," Mark continues. "C'mon, you know him, he's not a dick. You just gotta try talking to him."

You gulp and nod at him, now trying to make eye contact with a subtle smile on your face. Another deep breath. "You're right. Donghyuck won't hurt me, no matter what the outcome is."

Monday, 01:43 a.m.

On Mark's phone...

Meanwhile at the livingroom...

"Hyuck–wait. Can't we go slower?!"

"Look at that!" Donghyuck screams pointing at the TV screen, after taking the airpod off his right ear. You do the same with the one you were using, and the music from the game stops playing in your head. "I got a perfect score!" And he continues to do a silly victory dance, moving his hips from side to side with his arms in the air.

You really don't want to be mad at Donghyuck right now.

"This is so unfair," you tell him, stepping out of the frame and leaving the remote on top of the game console. "You didn't tell me you were this good. And you know I can't dance at all."

"You're right," Donghyuck says sincerely, a hand on his chest, right in front of his heart and all. "I didn't tell you I'm a dancing god and took advantage of your poor dancing skills to win the Just Dance."

You really don't want to get mad at him, but sometimes he makes it pretty much impossible.

"You." A hand comes in contact with Donghyuck's arm. Your hand. "Dirty." Another slap. "Bastard." And another one. "I hate you so much!"

"Hey!" He protests rubbing his arm after you slapped it. "Lying is a sin."

"I'm not lying," you say. "I hate you. You put on the fastest choreo to follow."

Donghyuck follows you around to the kitchen and watches your every move. He's right behind you, his eyes following your motions when you fill a glass with water, when you gulp it down, when you clean it and leave it back on the counter. He's hot on your heels when you come back to the common area and take the inflatable mattress out to get ready to sleep. He's still following your moves carefully when you put on the sheets and when you lay on it with the remote of the TV in hand. He only takes his eyes off your body when the Netflix logo appears on the screen and he notices you're about to watch the show you two started together.

You know he's dying for a word from you.

"You don't mean it," he says, now free of all mocking tones.

"I don't mean what?"

"You don't hate me."

You're pretty sure Donghyuck doesn't need you to confirm that you weren't serious. Naturally, he has always shown himself as a very self-assured and friendly person; It's not normal that people don't like Donghyuck. However, when you meet his eyes, wide and expectant of your response, and perhaps wet with a little insecurity, you understand that things are not always what they seem.

"How could I ever hate you, Hyuck?" you tell him to extend a hand in his direction, inviting him to lay on your side on the mattress. 

Relief takes over his expression, and a wide smile is plastered on his face. He's quick to get comfortable (maybe too comfortable, not that you really mind) laying his head on your lap, and moving your left hand to his hair that looks like it's got longer over the days. You know he wants you to play with it—Donghyuck loves getting his hair played with. The fourth episode of My First First Love starts playing on the TV screen, and you hear Donghyuck sigh contentedly.

The subtle strokes at the hair on his nape get Donghyuck smiling again and exhaling deeper at your tranquil touch. And, not to be biased, but the colored lights coming from the TV highlight the softest, most beautiful face features you've seen in your life. In an act of courage, you move your fingertips from his hair, to his sharp jaw, to his cheekbones, gently caressing the warm skin.

Donghyuck moves his head on your lap until he's no longer watching TV. Neither are you. You're just staring at each other in silence. He's letting you stroke every part of skin until  the tip of your fingers make it to his lips. His plump pink lips that have been tempting you more and more the past days. And he places a kiss there. On the tip of your fingers.

You freeze and grow red. Then he places another kiss, and another, making it three the times you've felt Donghyuck's lips on your skin.

It may be driving you crazy.

He's careful with his movements, so careful it turns almost painful watching him. Donghyuck grabs your wrist and gets up to sit beside your spot on the mattress. Doesn't let go of your hand—instead,  he holds it tenderly, caresses the back of it with his thumb, then places another kiss there.

Four times you've felt Donghyuck's lips on your skin. Five. Six—he just placed a kiss on your palm. Wait, another on your wrist. That's seven kisses so far.

But it's not enough. Now you've felt his lips you want them everywhere, all the time. So when he gets your hand closer to keep kissing you there, you grab his face. Feel the skin there, of his jaw, of his neck, and it's really hot. You think you might even feel the rapid pace of his pulse when you press your fingers on his neck (but it could also be your own.) Lastly, you tangle your fingers in his hair that he has let grow during these weeks of winter break. You tug on it a little, just enough to let him know you want him close. Closer, please.

And Donghyuck sighs, more like he fucking moans.

You wonder if you should say something before moving forward. What about all the things you talked to Mark yesterday? Should you tell him about how you feel before kissing him? What does he want? And what would this be after you kiss?

The call of your name interrupts your torment of thoughts.

"Please," he begs in a whisper, eyes closed as your noses brush against each other. "I'll die if I don't kiss you right now."

A laugh comes out of you because he always has to be that exaggerated, but you decide to set all questions aside for a moment to just dive into him.

He starts off very gently, with his slightly parted lips pressing against yours. They are indeed as fleshy and soft as they look, and taste like a cherries lipbalm. Donghyuck repeatedly places small kisses on your lips until you open your mouth a little more, and he captures your lower lip, biting a bit there. It gets another little tug on his hair from you, a sigh of relief after tasting his mouth after years of longing, and everything becomes more needy.

Donghyuck grabs at both sides of your head to deepen the kiss, smashing lips together repeatedly and kissing you sloppily. When you allow him to, he pushes his tongue into your mouth and you push your body closer to his.

He grabs your wrist not neglecting your lips even a second, as if the both of you were magnetized, and places his palm on your waist inviting you to his lap. It makes you laugh out of nervousness, so Donghyuck opens his eyes to watch you straddle him and place yourself on top of him very carefully.

His touch travels from your waist to the sides of your torso, his right hand in a place that you're sure allows Donghyuck to feel your increased heart rate. Your hands cradle his neck, then tug at the hair of his nape as he observes you kind of mesmerized, inhaling deeply, smiling a little and wetting his lips before you're diving into each other once again.

You've lost count of the amount of times you've felt Donghyuck's sweet lips on you by now. But you're sure of one thing: you don't want it to be the last.

"In case you were still wondering," he breaks the kiss to talk to you. "I like you, kinda a lot."

His hair is slightly disheveled from all the pulling, his lips are shiny and swollen, and he looks a little agitated. In his incredibly dilated black pupils you can see the reflection of your smile.

"I also like you, Hyuck," you finally confess to him. "I like you like, a huge amount."

He lets out a sigh of relief, more like a scream, and you're quick to cover his mouth reminding him that your brother is supposed to be sleeping five meters away from you. Yet, you can't help but laugh at his reaction.

He presses your foreheads together as his hands caress your sides, from your knees, to your waist, and to your lower back. Both your thumbs stroke his cheeks gently before you move to place some smooches there, in each of Donghyuck's moles (that is all over his face.) You think of all the times you imagined doing exactly that and find it hard to believe there's a possibility you could have Donghyuck any time you want now.

You only have to talk it out and see how things could progress between the two of you in the future. In the meantime, you'll keep smooching the literal personification of the sun (that might be because he feels hot as fuck right now, or because his smile is bright as the sun, or maybe he could be both.)

(Still) Monday, 01:00 p.m.

Donghyuck has had his head over the clouds since last night. After a heavy make-out session with you and some cuddling, he went back to his shared bedroom to sleep at like four a.m., being the most quiet possible to not wake your brother up and maybe having him asking what the hell was Donghyuck doing with you in the living room until four in the morning. He can’t escape the knowing smile Mark gives him though, when he wakes up and sees Donghyuck already up and working at his desk.

Donghyuck pretends everything is normal, greeting Mark good morning as usual.

“Good morning, Melk.”

“You sound too happy,” Mark groans in response, still sitting on his bed only half awake.

Donghyuck checks the time on the corner of his computer; one p.m. during holidays is like eight a.m. to Mark. Your brother just sits there for a while and Donghyuck goes back to studying for amoment, until the silence of the room gets interrupted.

“Yo,” Mark calls to attract Donghyuck’s attention. “What you did last night was fucking nasty.”

“What–” Donghyuck tries asking, only to have Mark interrupting him.

“I heard you two going at it," he starts with a very serious expression that gets Donghyuck's blood completely drained from his face. What could've Mark possibly heard? "My sister was telling you to go slower and everything.'' Mark makes some gagging sounds to add to his point and Donghyuck grows as equally embarrassed and amused at your brother’s assumptions.

“You think we fucked?” Donghyuck asks in complete disbelief. An exaggerated nervous laugh follows the question. “With you in the house?” He points a finger at Mark.

“You didn’t?”

“Sorry to tell you what you heard was us playing Just Dance. The last choreo was too hard and y/n couldn’t follow it.”

Donghyuck watches his best friend rub the sleep off his eyes and get up from the bed while he denies with his head, looking kind of defeated. “You’re both the biggest losers I’ve ever known,” Mark says, referring to you and Donghyuck.

“Hey!” Donghyuck starts to defend himself, his eyes grow bigger as his brows go up, and the characteristic Donghyuck pout starts to show, like in every situation a discussion is involved. “It was fun! We had a good time, ask her.”

“Losers made for each other, I swear.” Mark emphasizes his point. “So you didn’t fuck.”

Donghyuck doesn't look up from his math notes to answer. There's no way in hell he's having this conversation looking at Mark in the face. “By now, I’m sure I might be a virgin again.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Mark can’t contain a laugh, though. “That’s bad for your health. Get your dick wet already.”

“I’m just waiting for the right time with your sister.”

“Hey! You can’t joke like that anymore.” Donghyuck knows by Mark’s tone all the bickering has become dead-serious now. It has always been like this when it’s about you. First they joke a little about it, then Donghyuck reminds Mark how much he truly likes you, and lastly Mark tells Donghyuck to just confess to you already because he’s tired of hearing about it. “If you’re joking about my sister I’m gonna beat you up.” Mark reminds him.

“Sorry.” This time, Donghyuck is brave enough to face his best friend. It’s kind of hard for Donghyuck to believe it when Mark tells him he’s getting beated up, though, when Mark’s wearing the pajamas Johnny got him as a gift recently–some blue panty with a moose on the back that says ‘don’t moose with me’. “I’m not joking about her.”

“I know.” Mark covers the pajamas that distract his friend so much as he puts on his jeans. “You like each other so much it’s disgusting.”

Donghyuck can’t hide his smile after hearing that, and it reminds him of all the kisses you shared last night, which makes him grow red in the face. Nothing a little more bickering with your brother can’t hide.

“You’re sooo cruel to me, Markie.” Donghyuck tries to hug Mark before he’s leaving the room, but morning Mark has always been like a stray cat who doesn’t like affection (unless it comes from Yuta, which Donghyuck can’t comprehend very well but he supposes the japanese has something pretty magnetic.)

“Get off of me!”

“Only a lil’ kiss, pleaaase!”

They struggle at the door of the room and into the common area. Donghyuck with his lips millimeters from Mark's face while Mark tries with all his might to get away from Donghyuck, who can be like a tick. They're so caught up in their things neither of them has noticed you're there, observing the entire interaction.

“Why don’t you go and kiss y/n? I’m sure she’ll enjoy it,” you hear Mark say when he finally frees himself from Donghyuck.

It’s at this moment that you know you are hearing too much, so you clear your throat to let them know that you are there too. They both freeze after turning around and seeing you sitting at the kitchen island. Your brother Mark, the great opportunist and master at escaping from uncomfortable situations, greets you good morning and is off to work in a second, leaving you and Donghyuck alone in the apartment.

You watch Donghyuck get closer to where you’re sitting. He hasn’t changed from his sleeping shorts and the hoodie he was wearing last night–the same hoodie you pulled on as you kissed in the same mattress laying meters behind him. Yet you don’t know how to describe the sensation you’re feeling right now. After seeing the boy you like the most fighting your brother for a kiss, your stomach feels… weird? You know the kind of relationship they have–they’re best friends, they bicker and fight and make up all the time. They live based on Donghyuck love-bombing Mark and Mark denying the affection all the time. But they love each other in a brotherly way, it has always been like that.

It’s not like you expected Donghyuck to want to hug and kiss you and only you after what happened last night, but you kind of did expect it.

Were you jealous of Donghyuck’s best friend, your own brother Mark?

Donghyuck looks at you confused when you don't accept his hug right away. You stop his arms midway, and his eyes look defeated, full of worry. “Did something happen?”

You deny with your head. “I don’t know, that kind of felt weird,” you confess to him.

Donghyuck caresses your arms, feeling you relax from the defensive attitude from before, until he gets your hands together. “What felt weird?”

It’s ridiculous, you know it is and you’re embarrassed about what you’re about to say. Yet, you can’t help but:

“I think I got jealous,” you say and watch his brows furrowed together. “You know, when you were trying to kiss Mark…”

Donghyuck only bursts out laughing and hugs you tightly against his chest, leaving you no time to escape the sudden affection. He smells like fabric softener and feels comfortable like a pillow. And you hate that you love the way his laugh resonates through your entire body when he presses you to himself like that.

“You know I never want to kiss Mark seriously, right? That I only do it ‘cause I know he hates it,” he explains once he’s separated from you, still holding your hands in his and looking you in the eyes. “I don’t want to kiss anyone the way I want to kiss you.”

You look down hiding your smile, thinking he’s cute at first and processing his words then, which makes you laugh a little. Donghyuck realizes right away and starts to laugh too, leaving the seriousness behind.

“Was that too much?” He asks.

You nod in response. “But it’s good to know.”

“Good,” he says before planting a kiss on your cheek. He’s only millimeters away from your face when he speaks again. “No need to be jealous then.”

Donghyuck turns you around on the chair, so your back is pressing against the island and he can stand comfortably between your legs. He starts as he did last night, planting a kiss on your knuckles, then your wrist, but you don’t wanna waste any more time so you free yourself from his hands and start cradling his face. His lips look as tempting as always, maybe even more after you tasted them for the first time.

He notices your look so he gives you a lopsided, attractive smile that you desperately wanna rip off his face.

“How can you look this handsome in the morning?” You ask, admiring all his features.

“I mean, technically it’s past the morning.” he answers in a cocky tone.

“Shut up already.”

You don’t give him time to fight back as you’re sealing his lips with a kiss. It’s slow but deep, and his skin feels warm and soft under your fingertips, all the way from his sharp jaw to his cheekbones. When he bites your lip a little bit to get full access to your mouth, you worry about the breakfast you were having minutes ago, but Donghyuck doesn’t seem to mind:

“Mhmm,” he hums, breaking apart and licking his lips. “You taste like maple syrup.” And he steals another quick kiss from you.

“Yeah,” you say as you turn around to face the kitchen island again. “‘Cause you interrupted my breakfast.”

But despite you showing your back to him and trying to finish your food, Donghyuck won’t let you eat in peace. “Oh yeah,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck after he moves your hair to your left shoulder. He plants a soft kiss on your right side, sending shivers down your spine and making it hard to concentrate on your task. “I’m sooo sorry I interrupted you.” His tone is full of sarcasm as his kisses travel to your jaw and all the way down again. “And you hated it sooo much.”

The metallic sound of your fork falling off your hand and hitting the plate startles the both of you. Donghyuck stops sucking on your neck and you fall out of your trance. Your startled face might be somewhat funny, because Donghyuck starts giggling as you both realize you were enjoying his kisses a little too much.

“Let’s go on a date.”

“All of a sudden?”

He nods with a smile on his face. “It’s your last day here tomorrow. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore but… I want to take you out before your last day here.”

“Okay,” you agree, matching his smile.

“Okay?” He asks once more and sighs contentedly when you nod your head yes. “I’ll go plan everything. Make sure you’re all mine this afternoon!” And he leaves the room after kissing your right cheek.

(The busiest) Monday, 07:37 p.m.

“Hyuck, come on, there’s seriously no way of winning with those machines.”

“Babe, just one more try. I wanna get something for you.”

Donghyuck has been fighting against a claw machine for what felt like half an hour now. Since none of you weren’t able to win any of the games you tried at the carnival, you really appreciate his determination to win a prize for you this way. Yet you arrived here at five p.m., and after two rounds of bumper cars, after testing your strength at Ring the Bell (and both of you failing embarrassingly), riding the teacups, getting scared to death in the haunted house, and going twice into the Ferris wheel (one time for the sightseeing and pics and another time for kissing at the top of it) your stomach growls with hunger.

“We could’ve paid dinner with all the money you spent on this machine-”

“Wait, I’m about to get it!”

“Let’s just go get dinner.”

“But I’m about to get it!”

And you see it forreal this time: the claw holding a big Pochacco plushie and it falling right into the hole.

“Hyuck, you got it!” You scream in disbelief, a big smile taking over your face (maybe because of the cute plushie or maybe because it meant you were finally going to have some food.)

You watch Donghyuck lose his arm through the hatch and get it back, this time with the stuffed animal in his hand. When he’s presenting it in front of you, the stuffed animal is so big that it blocks your view. You admire it for a second, and then take it into your arms to discover a Donghyuck wearing the biggest smile you've seen in a while. He’s all cozied up, his jacket and stuffed hat making him look like a real life teddy bear. Even so, the cold of the winter has caused the tip of his nose and his cheeks to turn red, somehow making him look even cuter.

“I got it for you!” He says, the excitement not leaving his body even for a second.

You can’t contain yourself and, as an impulse, grab him from the jacket with your free hand and pull forward until your lips are meeting his. Just a short peck as a way of saying thank you, I love it (you.)

Neither of you realizes the little crowd you've drawn around the machines, not until you hear the applause and cheering as you're breaking away from your kiss. You’ve never seen Donghyuck get shy when drawing people’s attention, so this might be your first time noticing him trying to hide under his hat and into your embrace. You laugh it off even when you're equally embarrassed, but thank him for the plushie and tell him to run away from there to get dinner.

—

“I think I’ve liked you from the start,” Donghyuck confesses all of a sudden.

Well, maybe not so all of a sudden. While you two were having your dinner, bottle of beer came after bottle of beer. At some point of the night, you thought it was a good idea to start having soju. Donghyuck said something like “it’s our last night together, we should celebrate and get wasted” to justify your decision. So it may be the full stomachs and the alcohol making you be honest with each other.

“I know I’ve liked you from the start.”

“Aaall the guys knew too…” He slurs his words a little when speaking. “I wouldn't shut up about you.”

You can't hide your drunken, enamored smile when hearing him. But something makes a little noise inside your head. “All the guys knew?” You ask and he nods quickly. “Even Mark?”

“Even Mark,” Donghyuck confirms. “I mean, we always kind of had this joke going around that I was always waiting for you.” He pours himself another drink. “But we both knew it wasn't a joke.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face, embarrassed. “My own brother lied to me,” you say and Donghyuck makes a confused sound, which makes you keep explaining. “He pretended to know nothing about your feelings when I confessed to him that I liked you.”

“I asked him not to say anything.”

“Huh?”

“I wanted to tell you myself how much I like you.”

“Oh god,” it's all you can repeat right now, all these confessions and the alcohol making you grow hot everywhere. “It's so hot inside this restaurant,” you say as you take your jacket off.

Donghyuck knows the red on your cheeks isn't only because of the heat inside the place.

“I like you sooo much,” he says as he watches you giggle out of nervousness. Donghyuck calls your name and holds your hand over the table to try to get you to look at him, but you only giggle and hide your face with your other hand. “I'm in love with you!” 

“Okay, okay!” You're laughing by now, trying to cover his mouth to shut him up and not attract everyone's attention like you did at the carnival. “I'm in love with you too!”

“Good,” he says with an extremely pleased smile, that one that has always attracted you to him so much.

“Good?” you repeat and he nods.

Your phone screen lights up showing it's Mark calling you. You silently tell Donghyuck you're picking up and he lets go of your hand for you to do so.

“Yes?”

“Yo,” you hear Mark answer from the other side. “We're at Yuta's right now, we're working on some music with Taeil and TY so I think I'm just gonna crash here tonight.”

“Uhm, are you sure you don't wanna go back?” You ask and make eye contact with Donghyuck, who narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side after your question. You only shrug to him as a response.

“Nah, I'll leave the apartment for the two of you so make good use of it.” Your brother answers convincingly.

“Okay, I'll see you in the morning.”

“All right bet, see you in the morning.” And he's quick to hang up.

You take the phone off your ear and look at it confused for a bit, until Donghyuck breaks the silence. “Everything all right with Mark?”

“Yeah,” you say as you put the phone down. “He said he's not going back home tonight.”

“Oh.”

You think of the words your brother said. “Leaving the apartment for the two of you,” and “making good use of it,” and it hits you. A little bit late, but it hits you.

“Oh…” you repeat, a surprised expression now taking over your face.

“Yeah, oh!” Donghyuck agrees. “We're having a real sleepover tonight!”

But by the excitement in Donghyuck's face, the one a little kid would show when told he's sleeping at a friend's, you aren't convinced he thought the same way you and Mark did.

(The last day at your brother's) Tuesday, 09:12 a.m.

The next morning, you wake up pretty confused. When you open your eyes, you're not sleeping at your usual spot. Your surroundings look very different from the living room where you've been sleeping every night. To your right, you spot Donghyuck's desk, filled with physics books, a pile of comics, and the typical empty Red Bull cans. The mattress also feels incredibly comfortable, soft but firm under you. But the most strange thing is the weight over your body, and a cologne you know very well and like very much flooding your senses. That's when you realize Donghyuck is laying all over you, stretched like a starfish.

You laugh and struggle to take your arms under him, and when you wrap them around the boy over you and squeeze, he starts to laugh too.

"Are the curtains open?" You ask in a voice still full of sleep.

He moves his head up to catch the smile on your face. "No?" 

"Then why is the sun so bright in my face?"

The smile spreads on his face and he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. "You're so fucking cheesy." And he kisses you again.

“Get off,” you try to move him from over your face and your body. “I haven’t washed my mouth.”

“I don’t care,” he says, finally moving and sitting at the side of his bed, where you’re still laying in. “I’m not missing a chance to kiss you.”

“You’re sooo fucking cheesy,” you repeat his words.

“And you like me sooo much.” Donghyuck moves to the nightstand and grabs an aspirin and a can of Red Bull and brings them to your mouth. “Take, it’ll make you feel better after all we had last night.”

You sit up a little on the bed to do what he told you, and once you've swallowed the aspirin you let yourself fall back against his pillow. Donghyuck is still sitting on the edge of the bed, exchanging glances with you and holding your hand lovingly. He's wearing the Michael Jackson t-shirt that he likes so much and he's wearing his messy hair, just as you left it after pulling, fixing and messing it up while you kissed him countless times the night before.

You’re leaving today, and it’s like all the feelings you’ve accumulated these past years are hitting right now, all at once.

“I wish I could wake up like this everyday.”

“Hungover?”

“No, not hungover,” you laugh at his question. “With you.”

He smiles and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out.”

You sit up in the bed and search for the energy drink on the nightstand. After a few drinks, you’ve figured the morning breath can’t be so bad, so you move to face him properly and grab his face for a real kiss. Donghyuck doesn’t take long to reciprocate and start caressing your entire body. He’s always the first one to take the kisses to other places, so you take the lead this time. You discovered last night that Donghyuck can’t resist the kisses on his neck. You start placing soft kisses, then some licks until you suck a little and he fails to suppress a moan. He laughs it off and calls your name.

“I want to ask something important,” he says, looking you dead-serious in the eyes now, all the jokes and the desire aside. After you nod in response, telling he has your attention, he takes a big breath of courage. “It may seem a little rushed, but after all we’ve shared these years and after this week we’ve spent together, I don’t want you to leave without asking you to go out with me.”

You feel the temperature increase throughout your skin. Is he finally asking you to…

“Be my girlfriend?” As if he knew you from inside and out, he finishes your thoughts out loud.

Temperature reaches your face as well as probably the biggest smile you’ve worn since you got here. You cradle his face, squeeze his cheeks with your hands until a pout is showing and you can’t help but laugh—out of nervousness but also out of happiness, from having the sun in your hands and all for yourself.

“Lee Donghyuck,” you start. “That’d make me the happiest in the world, in the universe.”

“You’re sooo cheesy!” He starts the bickering once again, yet he’s sealing your deal with a kiss on your smile and, of course, you’re returning the affection.

(Later that) Tuesday, 03:30 p.m.

You’re standing in the building’s hallway while your brother struggles to lock the door to the 12-7 apartment. Donghyuck is patiently holding your suitcase, waiting for Mark to be done. They’re going to accompany you to the bus stop that’s coming at four p.m. so you can finally go home to the rest of your family and your normal life—you’ll be back studying and working in a few days, after spending Christmas with the family and Donghyuck, who promised to be there to join the Christmas lunch at your home and—maybe, if he doesn’t chicken out—present himself as your boyfriend to your parents.

“We need to change the door lock before y/n moves in here,” Mark says after finally locking it.

“What?” Donghyuck and you ask in unison. “Moving here?”

“You’re not moving in with Donghyuck? I thought I’d finally be free from him,” your brother answers, kind of disappointed, but not as disappointed as Donghyuck after noticing how bad your brother wants him out.

“But where will you go?” You ask him.

“I made plans to share the floor with Yuta.” 

“That motherfucking japanese!” Donghyuck screams following Mark down the hallway, and you palm his back trying to reassure him, but your boyfriend won’t calm down. “I swear he wants to steal my best friend from me! He’s so jealous of my life!”

“What would he be jealous of, Donghyuck?” Your brother asks tiredly, and you know he’s rolling his eyes even if all you see is his back opening the building’s front door.

“Of our last-longing, incredibly unique friendship, of-fucking-course!” Donghyuck answers like it’s obvious.

“I’m pretty sure you just kept this friendship to get with my sister.”

“Mark?! That’s not true. I love you, man. Mark-Mark, come on!”

taglist: @matchahyuck @sundamariis @thesunsfullmoon @babyjenono @chenfleur @bettyschwallocksyee @sundhaelatte @injunier @justalildumpling @lanadreamie @dhyucktopia @143rachafm @minkyuncutie @bbh-kji @minhosprettywife

[tkwrites]

Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know. 

Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue, so if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one, but it is setting up all of our off-season fics.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Summer Decisions

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Oh,” she said, voice quiet. 

“Is that not okay?” 

“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.” 

“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.

They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark. 

The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay. 

“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”

“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.” 

“Michigan? Why?” 

“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”

“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?” 

“Why?” 

“Because of us?” she gestured between them. 

“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.” 

“I can’t do that, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.” 

“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.” 

Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?” 

Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”

The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”

Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”

“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said. 

Okay then. 

“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.

“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.” 

“That’s not fair,” he said. 

“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?” 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved. 

“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.  

“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing. 

“What would you suggest, then?”

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow. 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?” 

“Because we won’t be together.”

“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?” 

“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them. 

“That’s not fair.”

He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face. 

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing. 

Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”

A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?” 

“Long distance?”

It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”

She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.

“What would that look like?” she asked, finally. 

“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”

“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”

“Probably, but —”

“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.” 

He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.” 

“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.” 

It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement. 

“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought. 

Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind. 

“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."

It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.

“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.” 

“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.” 

“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” 

“I know. I do too.” 

“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.” 

“Four,” he corrected. 

“What?” 

“Four months, I come back in September.” 

Well, that was a relief. 

“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin. 

He sat next to her, leaning in.

“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”  

“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.” 

“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?” 

“No, but it’ll be fine.” 

She shook her head. 

He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together. 

“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”

“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.” 

“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.” 

Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be. 

Quinn huffed. 

“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.

His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”

“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”

Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet. 

“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August. 

Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.

“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”

“I kind of thought you might move in here.”

“What?” 

“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.” 

She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?” 

“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.” 

Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.” 

“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.” 

“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

He beamed.

“But I can’t live here alone all summer.” 

Expression falling, he opened his mouth.

“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.” 

The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.

“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.” 

His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face. 

Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.

“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.” 

“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”

“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.” 

This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. 

Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back. 

“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt. 

Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.” 

“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day. 

“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.” 

Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?” 

He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.

“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.” 

“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.” 

She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible. 

Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again. 

The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.

“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.

Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?” 

“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.” 

His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”

“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked. 

“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.” 

“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?” 

“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.” 

“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?” 

“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.” 

Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?” 

“12,000.” 

“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.  

“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.

“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.” 

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.” 

 “So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.

“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up. 

She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.” 

She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water. 

Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together. 

Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face. 

She giggled and told him the story. 

“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together. 

“Every morning?” she repeated. 

“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.” 

Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.” 

“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.” 

His hands found her waist as their lips connected. 

A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”

Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.” 

The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.

“But they love you here.”

His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.” 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

“Its happened before.” 

“To you?” 

“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”

“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”

“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”

She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?” 

“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.” 

“How do you live your life like this?” she asked. 

He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.” 

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.

“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?” 

Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life. 

There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up. 

He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much. 

His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said. 

“I don’t know either.” 

A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.

“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.” 

He nodded, “me too.” 

Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap. 

Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers. 

The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?” 

Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed. 

As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease. 

“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself. 

“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”

A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him. 

“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.” 

Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later. 

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll. 

She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest. 

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations. 

Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him. 

“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”

Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.

“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.” 

Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

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[monsterfuker3000]

You Call the Shots, Babe ༺♡༻

Hi kittens, mommy’s had a rough one and that’s why it’s been since October since I published anything lol. My now-ex boyfriend broke up with me and it thrust me head first into my man-hating era and I couldn’t write to save my life. I’m not happy with this fic but I had to publish SOMETHING bc it’s been rotting in my WIP folder forever. Enjoy, my stinkies 🩷

WARNINGS: p in v sex, perv!Leon, unprotected sex, mentions of male masturbation, a lil bit of footjob action/very light CBT, Leon is a two pump chump I’m sorry, creampie as always, uhhh you degrade him and stuff but he’s Leon so he gets off to that, idk RE2R Leon strikes me as a panty thief who would get off on being told he’s a pervert so that’s what I wrote lol

Word count: 3k words of Leon being a perv

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

Movie night with Leon was always unnecessarily complicated. It very nearly felt like it took him hours to get settled; he needed the right snacks for the two of you, the right drinks, the right comfy clothes, the right movie. If he put much more effort into every movie night, it would start to feel like a date. Not that he’d mind that.

You, however, seemed like you would mind. He had tried like hell to hint to you that he wanted something more than friendship; brushing his hand against yours whenever he could, resting his hand at the small of your back in a manner that was much more than friendly, letting his gazes linger a bit longer than they needed to. But you? Dear, distant, unmovable you? Never once reciprocated his affections. Leon was desperate for you.

That’s why the movie nights came about; they were the closest Leon could get to a date night, and by God did he push the envelope. He’d spend every movie night with an arm around your shoulder, both of you under the same blanket. He’d behave himself, keep his hand a where they belonged, but all the while he’d have to try like hell to conceal the hard-on he’d be sporting every time. He felt pathetic, jerking off to the thought of you every night after you’d leave. That’s when he started stealing your panties.

It started out with just one pair he’d seen discarded on top of your hamper in your room, too careless to hide it before he came over. He’d snuck them into his pocket, vowing to himself they he would return them the next time he was at your place. Only he didn’t return them, and he did do it again.

He jumped at every chance to spend time at your place instead of his, sneaking another pair from you nearly every time. You had to be wondering where they kept going, but as long as his operation was still going off without a hitch, he was going to keep stealing them.

Then came the hitch.

You had come over for the aforementioned movie night, barging in after work without knocking like you owned the place, not that Leon minded.

“Lee!” You whined, “It’s cold out! How come you have to live so far from where I work?” You continued your lament as you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked further into the apartment toward the kitchen. Leon poked his head out from the doorway, pointing to his bedroom door.

“Go grab one of my hoodies or something if you’re cold, I’m making popcorn, so help yourself!” He busied himself with the popcorn once again as he heard you turn and walk toward his room, thanking him as you walked away.

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

His heart immediately dropped into his stomach, remembering just how many pairs of your used panties were tucked away in his drawer. The volume and variety would have been impressive if he didn’t feel downright creepy.

He slunk towards his room like a child expecting to be scolded, and his face reddened when he stepped into the doorway. You had your arms crossed, one of his favorite pairs of your panties dangling from one finger

It was a little baby-pink number; cotton, his favorite, with delicate lace around waistband that he couldn’t get enough of. Memories flashed through his head of just what perverted things he’d done with the scraps of cloth spilling out of the drawer you’d apparently yanked open.

He loved to jerk off with them wrapped around his cock, eyes closed and head falling back, sometimes with another pair pressed to his nose to inhale your scent. The worst thing he did, however, embarrassed even him; he loved to jerk off directly into the crotch of your panties, imagining that the reason they were covered in his cum was because it had spilled out of you. This was his favorite of all of his dirty fantasies about you, and imagining that the panties in his hand were soiled because you’d finally let him fuck you would often make him have to touch himself a second time.

“I saw these sticking out of your drawer, and I thought they looked familiar,” you said flatly.

He forced himself to return to the present at your words, fidgeting a bit to try to hide the half-chub that refused to go down even in the face of such profound shame. You cocked an eyebrow, looking all too relaxed given the situation the two of you were in.

“I asked you a question, Leon,” you reminded him. “Why do you have so many pairs of my panties? And I know theyre mine, don’t try to tell me they aren’t,’ you added, effectively crushing to death the only chance at redemption he thought he might have.

“Um, well. . .” He trailed off immediately, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the panties swinging from your hand, not sure how he was going to get out of this one. “I don’t- I. . . It’s beacuse-“

“I know why you have them,” you cut him off, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours before the embarrassment made him duck away again. “It’s because youre a fucking pervert.”

His heart dropped; this was it. You were disgusted with him, you were going to leave his apartment and never come back, you were going to tell everyone you knew that he was a disgusting panty thief, never to be trusted. However, there was no hiding the full-blown hard-on he was now sporting, thanks to the insult. His face reddened more, if that was even possible. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, and the scowl you’d been wearing slowly turned into a smirk.

“I’m so sorry, I-“ he began, but you cut him off yet again.

“You’re not sorry you did it,” you salked toward him. “You’re sorry you got caught.’ You were right on the money, as usual, but before Leon could even try to get a word in edgewise, you spoke again. “I think you need to be punished.”

What?

His confusion must have been clear on his face, because you continued.

“What, cat got your tongue?” You teased. “Take your pants off, Leon,” you said. It very obviously wasnt a request.

This felt like a trap to Leon, but he figured things couldn’t get any worse, and so help him he was going to do whatever you asked of him in the hopes it might smooth things over. He cleared his throat, reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants as you began to slowly circle around him. He felt very much like a cornered animal.

“O-okay,” he finally spoke, albeit haltingly as he slowly pulled at the tie on his pants.

“Tell me, Lee, what have you been doing with all the panties you’ve been stealing, hm? Be specific. And hurry up with your pants, I don’t like waiting when im already impatient.”

God, what were you going to do to him? He tried like hell not to very his hopes up, but he hoped to God this was going to end well for him.

“W-well,” he began, sliding his pants off as he spoke, nervous but still eager to find out what was going to happen next. “I mean, I jack off with them. . .” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to be any more forthcoming than that. He chanced a look at your face again, hoping what little he told you was sufficient, but of course not.

“Tell me more, Lee. And look at me when you do it,” you added. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes on you while he spoke.

“I wrap them around. . . Around my cock and I, well, I jack off with them, ‘nd then I. . .” He trailed off yet again, cheeks burning bright red, afraid to try your patience but far too embarrassed to get it all out at once. He took a deep breath. “And I like to. . . To finish in the crotch,’ he finally finished.

“Why?” You asked simply. He wasnt prepared to answer that one. He cleared his throat again, and mumbled something, turning away. “Come again?” You asked. He huffed out a breath and looked back up at you, tears very nearly welling up in his eyes from the humiliation but still hard as a rock.

“I said I like to imagine theyre filled with my cum because you put them back on after I fucked you!” He nearly yelled, frustrated with the interrogation. A few embarrassed tears he hadn’t even noticed finally spilled from his eyes and he wiped them away roughly with his sleeve, knowing he had no right to cry.

“I figured,” you replied flatly. How were you staying so calm about this? You’d just found out your best friend had been stealing your panties for the past few months! Leon opened his mouth to ask you just this, but you moved lighting-quick, stuffing the panties into his open mouth and covering it with your hand, swatting away hips hands when he instinctively reached up to push you away.

Holy shit. You just stuffed your panties in his mouth.

“Kneel,” you told him, and his knees were on the floor without a second’s hesitation, placing his hands down on the tops of his thighs. You walked around him, adding the instruction to be careful not to spit them out, and he could hear you once again digging around in the drawer behind him. you gasped behind him, reaching out from behind him to range another pair inches from his nose before snatching it back.

“Leon, these are my favorite!” You cried indignantly. “I’ve been looking for them forever, you pervert,’ you added. God, there was that word again. It absolutely shouldn’t have made his cock twitch in his boxers, but it did anyway. “Hands behind your back,” you instructed him, and he obeyed, wondering what you had in mind. His eyes widened when he felt you twist that second pair of panties around his wrists, essentially improvising a pair of handcuffs. You walked around him again to stand in front of him, and he looked up at you expectantly, tears long-dried. “Try not to rip those, I like them,” you said simply, before sitting on his bed and pressing your socked foot to his crotch without another warning.

He cried out as best he could with a mouthful of your panties, nearly doubling over from the sensation. You were pressing harder than should have been pleasurable, but between how wound up you had him and how long he’d wanted you to touch his cock, he was still in heaven. As you slid your foot up his cock, he wished with everything in him that he didn’t still have his boxers on; that he could feel the friction and not just the pressure, delicious as it was. You leaned back, surveying your work, all the while still working your foot up and down his cock.

“You like that, Leon?” You teased, propped up on your hands. Of course he liked that. Of course you knew he liked that, but how could you not tease him like this?

Your curled your toes gently over the head of his cock, squeezing a bit with your toes. He was sensitive, so fucking sensitive, and he bucked up into your touch with another muffled cry.

“Ah-ah,” you admonished him. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Leon whined again at this, worried you were going to stop touching him, but far too afraid of that prospect to do anything about it.

Instead of withdrawing your foot Ike he expected, you pressed the ball of your foot against his cock, hard. You meant this as a punishment, of course, but poor Leon was so very on edge that he came in his boxers, shaking as he dampened the crotch of them along with your foot.

“Leon. . .” You sighed with a deep frown, one that would have made his heart clench had all his blood not been allocated elsewhere. “You really are a pervert,” you scolded. God, there was that word again. Leon knew at this point that this was all a game, but he couldn’t help the way that word made him feel. Pathetic. Dirty. Unbelievably horny.

You stood, looming over him as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I was worried about the rest of my plans for you, but it looks like youre still hard,” you remarked, nudging his overly sensitive cock with your foot and pulling a surprised yelp from him. To his shock, you unbuttoned your pants and slid them off along with your panties all in one go. The way his eyes flicked over to the panties you discarded to the side wasnt lost on you.

“Don’t be greedy, Leon. You have more than enough,” you teased. You knelt on the ground in front of him, pushing against his chest and knocking him off balance to sit flat on the floor with his back to his dresser, hands still bound behind him with your panties. You straddled him, hovering over his cock so close that he could feel the heat and wetness of your pussy. He didn’t dare move after what happened last time.

You decided to grant him just a little relief, using your hand to slide his cock shallowly through your folds, Upand down, up and down. His head hit the dresser behind him with a thunk, a deep groan tearing itself from his throat. Then finally, fucking finally, you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

He tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and they nearly popped out of his head as he took in the sight in front of him. His cock had completely disappeared inside of you, your clit resting against his pelvis. He was mesmerized for just a moment before you lifted your hips and slammed them back down, earning another muffled shout from him as his head hit the dresser again.

You began a brutal pace right off the bat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your moans; yours were completely unbridled, his were still dampened by the panties he absolutely wasnt spitting out.

You reached up to place a hand against his cheek, patting it softly before pulling your hand back and delivering an earnest slap. It took him by surprise and he bucked into you again, but you seemed to let that transgression slide. You squeezed his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to look at you.

“Fucking disgusting, Leon. I should spit in your face for stealing and doing such nasty shit with my things,” you said through gritted teeth, hips still rolling against him. God, he was going to cum way too soon again. Sweat rolled down the side of his face with the effort he was exerting trying to hold off his orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum,” you moaned, and it was like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “You wanna cum in me Leon? You wanna fill me up with your cum? Of course you do, you fucking sicko,” and Leon knew he had just seconds.

Finally, with a last, particularly strong roll of your hips, you came. As your pussy pulsed around him, Leon came as well, filling you with his cum and thrusting up into you in earnest now, though he was too fucked-out to notice and correct himself.

As soon as your breathing evened a bit, you stood abruptly, the friction against Leon’s softening cock startling him along with the overstimulation. You hooked the panties in his mouth with your finger to yank them out and he choked a bit, his mouth dry. He was speechless as you shook out the slightly damp panties and slid them on with a snap of the waistband.

You bent over in front of him, showing him that the thin gusset of the panties was wet enough with his spit that it had gone slightly translucent. He could see your pussy lips through the wet fabric, and nearly passed out when he watched the wet patch spread as his cum began to spill out of you and onto the panties, just like he’d jacked off to so many times. If he wasn’t so mindful of not wanting to rip the panties that were still wrapped around his wrists, he probably would have pulled you toward him to fill you up with even more of his cum.

You walked around behind him to untangle him and free his arms. As soon as you did though, his hair stood on end remembering what he’d been caught with earlier. He whirled around, still on his knees to look up at you with big, pleading blue eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s gross that I was taking your panties-“

“Leon,” you interrupted him. “Why do you think my used panties were always on the top of my hamper? No girl would leave her panties visible like that if she knows someone is coming over. I wanted you to find them.” You turned and walked out toward the kitchen before turning back to him and seeing his jaw practically on the ground again. “You might wanna check on your popcorn, Lee.”

I’m on twelve Vicodins smoking on Scooby-Doo dick

[reverieblondie]

I can feel it in my bones, he was MEANT to be a girl dad

Okay...I know I should be writing my WIPs but GIRLDAD ROLAN!!!

I mean look at him! He would have the most gorgeous daughter! I would give him as many as he wanted...

Adorableness under the cut!

I know for a fact he's the type to aways hold his little girls hand when they go out for walks. If she is pointing at things he will explain what it is with a sweet smile. Does she want to pet the kitty cats? With a quick spell she's talking to them and letting her feed the cats treats.

His daughter only wears the finest and softest of clothes, that he has a matching outfit with, because when she wears blue she wants to match with daddy and it always puts the biggest smile on her face when he does.

Every morning after Rolan wakes you up with a sweet kiss and a cup of tea or coffee whatever you prefer. He will go to her room and wake her up so gently rubbing his hand softly on her back to have her wake. Once she is up and had a big morning hug from dad, she's brushing her teeth with him, having him set out an outfit for her, then explaining to him how she wants her hair done for the day. (please imagine his daughter with her holding her hair in pigtails and Rolan just listens patently with a smile on his lips while crouching down on his knees with a brush in hand)

She attends the best primary school in the city and makes top marks due to Rolan wanting her to have every opportunity he never had the chance at. Never pressures her however, if she seems upset or over whelmed they will have a nice daddy daughter talk with her telling him how she feels as he holds her in his arms. Loves to call her his smart girl.

Often gets swept up in impromptu dances after dinner, spinning her around and dipping her so much till she is just a mess of giggles. Tickle fights and hide and seek are some other of her favorite games to play with dad.

Don't let Rolan find out a kid has a crush on his daughter, will defiantly send him into a pout of "she's too young, my little baby!" Will defiantly death stare said kid at drop off where you have to nudge him to stop.

During thunderstorms or scary dreams its always dad she is crying to first. Though she wants to sleep in your bed with you two Rolan is the one to give her a glass of water and walk her back to bed. She has to be his brave girl, but he will wait their with her telling stories of him and mommy till her little eyes get heavy.

Learns spells like how to make flowers bloom to always give her a surprise. Learns how to make her favorites along with yours, this will be the first spell she ever learn she made daddy's favorite flower: Orchids

Will begrudgingly let her do makeup on him and do his hair for practice, then if he needs a little break will send her to do the same to auntie Lia because "She told me she was jealous and wants a make over as well..."

When she starts developing hobbies he will always be in full support of them, like when she tried baking. Rolan endured eating a batch of burn and somehow raw cookies that she had spent all day trying to learn. He couldn’t take seeing her face flush and cheeks stained with tears of defeat. He told her that they were very good, but next time he will teach her his secret recipe instead and they can bake it together. Rolan will help teach her and support her always, he wouldn’t dare crush her dreams.

Tries his best not to spoil her, but she is just such a sweet and polite girl he can't help but what to shower her in anything she could ever want. He is wrapped around her little finger and everyone knows it. He is always bragging about her. Praising her achievements, just like she is always bragging about him to the other kids in her class.

Rolan always makes sure her birthday is exactly what she wants, a huge breakfast all her favorite people invited to the tower for a party to celebrate her. Gets so many presents anything she wants, one year she even got a kitty from Rolan

Everyday when he puts her to bed he reads a story to her till she gets sleepy, when he thinks she is asleep he will close the book and pick up her room for her. Before he walks out he leans down to give her a kiss on the forehead, and no matter how many times it happens when she mumbles out "I love you daddy." in her sleepy voice it always makes his heart swell.

"I love you too, my sweet girl."

(cut to Rolan coming to bed holding you tightly kissing your neck till finally whispering in your ear, "I want another baby...")

[munson-blurbs]

Hi buggy!! I had an idea and I feel like you are the perfect person to give it to (as you know I have way too many WIPS)

Okay so -Drama Club!Reader taking a nap on the couch in the room they use for Hellfire- She’s got headphones on so she doesn’t hear them come in- Halfway through the game Eddie realizes ? There’s someone in the room? And then he drives her home? Run with it honestly! Also ILY!!

You know I love any excuse to write fluff 🥰 for you, my dear.

Warnings: none really, just tooth-rotting fluff and the Hellfire boys teasing Eddie

WC: 1.5k

Sleepiness hits you like a truck. No matter how many plays you do, no matter if you have a leading role or you’re part of the chorus, post-show exhaustion is real. There’s no break between the infamous “Hell Week” and opening night, and you are feeling it.

Your knees buckle like your legs are going to give out. Despite the upbeat tempo of Joan Jett’s I Love Rock ‘n Roll blasting through your headphones, which typically puts some pep in your step, you’re about to fall over.

As you pass by the drama room, it dawns on you: there’s a couch that’s perfect (or at least feasible) for a quick little nap.

Luckily for you, it’s completely empty, and sleep quickly overtakes you. No lines to memorize, no scrambling to stage left when Mr. Underwood calls for the Mad Hatter. Just pure, uninterrupted–

“Oh, come on!”

Well. 

You’re jolted awake by the sound of a group of guys shouting at each other. As your vision focuses, you can see that they’re all wearing matching shirts, proudly proclaiming themselves to be the Hellfire Club. You don’t know how long you’ve been asleep, but your cassette is no longer playing music, so it has to have been a little while.

The voice that had woken you from your nap belongs to Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother, Mike, who is currently raking his hands through his shaggy hair in frustration. 

“Okay, okay, just focus.” Will Byers, ever the voice of reason. He was one of the set designers for Alice in Wonderland, and his kind disposition effectively made him the adopted little brother of most of the upperclassmen. He picks up a die, takes a deep breath, and rolls, letting out a disappointed groan as it clatters to the table. “Shit!”

“That’s…a…miss!” Your attention is immediately drawn to the man sitting in a throne-esque chair at the head of the table, cackling at Will’s misfortune. You nearly fall off of the couch when you see that it’s Eddie Munson, the guy you’ve had a crush on since you’d started high school four years ago.

“Careful, Eddie,” one of the younger members–Gareth, if you’re remembering correctly–goads the Dungeon Master,  “you’d better be nice to him, or he won’t introduce you to your lady love.”

The rest of them oooh and make kissy noises, laughing amongst themselves.

Eddie slams a fist on the table, silencing them immediately. “Shut up!” he roars, scrunching up his nose in anger. His sudden outburst startles you; luckily, everyone is too engrossed in the game–and teasing Eddie–to notice the way you twitch on the couch.

The game continues for a few more minutes, punctuated by cheers and irritated grunts, before Will speaks up. “She’s really nice, Eddie,” he starts, “I could see if she’d wanna talk to you—”

“Enough!” Eddie hisses through gritted teeth. “I swear, I’ll end this campaign right now.”

“Hold on,” another freshman, this one with curly hair, chimes in. He raises his forefinger as he contemplates the situation. “You’re telling me that you went to see Alice in Wonderland–twice, I may add–stared at her the whole time, and you don’t even wanna know if she’s interested?”

That gets your attention—what drama club actress does he have his eye on? Probably Chrissy Cunningham, the blonde beauty who’d snagged the leading role. Cheerleading, acting, all-around nice person; who wouldn’t have a crush on her?

Eddie shakes his head, frizzy curls brushing the shoulders of his denim jacket. “You idiots are driving me crazy.”

Jeff, who happens to be in your English class, throws him a knowing smirk. “Don’t you mean, driving you mad?”

His pun earns him a round of high-fives from his friends, but Eddie is less than enthused. 

“That’s it; we’re done here.” Eddie smacks his palms to the table, rolling his eyes when the guys groan. “I’ll clean up, just—get out of here. Go!” He yells the last word when no one moves, and they all scramble for their backpacks and out the door. 

Once they leave, he starts tossing game pieces back in the box haphazardly, mumbling to himself. 

“Fuckin’ kids, think they know everything just because they have girlfriends—Jesus Christ!”

Your eyes flit over to see him staring at you, hand pressed to his chest as he catches his breath. 

“Wh-What the fuck are you doing here?” he stammers, trying to catch his breath. “When did you even get here?”

“I, um, needed a nap,” you admit, “and I knew there was a couch here, but I dozed off for too long…I didn’t mean to crash your game,” you finish lamely.

“Oh,” Eddie grins, relieved that you’ve been asleep and blissfully ignorant of the ribbing he’d received during Hellfire, “yeah, I mean, no worries. ‘S, uh, comfy.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Not really. I was just tired.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Eddie sputters with a forced laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just finished the play and everything. ‘S a lot of work.”

“Yup.” There’s an awkward pause before you speak again. “Well, I should probably head home before my mom reports me missing or something.”

“I can drive you!” Eddie blurts out, cringing inwardly at the abundance of enthusiasm in his tone. “I mean, ‘s cool with me if you wanna…bum a ride.”

You tilt your head with a small smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way…” You know that he lives in Forest Hills Trailer Park across town, and you don’t want him wasting time and fuel when you could easily walk.

“No, yeah, I don’t mind.” He rocks back and forth on his heels nervously. “I, uh, actually wanted to ask you about the play.”

You nod, grabbing your backpack from the side of the couch. Before you can sling it over your shoulder, his hand shoots out to catch the strap at the top. 

“I can carry it.”

“Eddie Munson…chivalrous gentleman?” you tease, unaware of the shiver coursing through him when you say his full name. “Full of surprises today.”

You follow him to his van, smiling politely when he opens your door for you with a small bow. He jogs around to his side and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Where to?”

You give him your address and offer a general direction. “So, what did you wanna ask me?”

“Hm?”

You raise your eyebrows. “You said you wanted to drive me home so you could ask me about the play.”

“Oh, yeah! Right.” Eddie fumbles for his words. “Is it hard remembering all your lines?”

You shrug. “Not too bad. Kinda like studying for a test, y’know?”

“Uh, sure.” He puts his hand on the back of your seat and turns his head, tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrates on backing out.

Another pregnant pause fills the air, and you rub your palms along your jean-clad thighs. “What else did you wanna know?”

He wracks his brain for more questions, but comes up short. “That was pretty much it, I guess.”

“Eddie!” you scoff playfully. “I wouldn’t have had you drive me if you only had one question!” Without thinking, your hand swats at his chest.

“Ow! Damn!” he laughs, using one hand to tend to his ‘wound’ while keeping the other on the wheel. “I’m gonna have to tell Byers that you’re actually really mean.”

“Me?”

“Mhm,” he confirms. “Violent, too. ‘S probably gonna leave a mark.”

“Poor baby.” You jut out your lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “Need someone to nurse you back to health?” You take a beat before proposing, “Maybe…Chrissy Cunningham?”

Eddie coughs out a laugh. “Chrissy Cunningham? Yeah, no.”

“Really?” You furrow your brow in confusion. “Then who were the guys talking about?” The question comes out before you can stop it, and you feel your face heat up with embarrassment. “Sorry, I–”

“‘S fine,” he mutters, drumming his fingers on the wheel. His ears tinge pink and he gnaws on his cheek, but doesn’t say another word.

Something dawns on you; a comment he’d made earlier in the drive. “I’m gonna have to tell Byers that you’re actually really mean.” And back at Hellfire, Will had said that Eddie’s drama club crush was “really nice.” And then there was Jeff’s comment about them driving him mad…

Oh.

“Do you wanna get some pizza or something?” you ask, the words spilling from your lips. You peer at him hopefully, trying not to sound overzealous. “Y’know, just so I can make sure your injury isn’t fatal.”

He nods. “Yeah, sounds awesome. I like pizza.” His gaze flits over to your hand; he reaches over and timidly gives it a small squeeze. “Like you, too.”

Your body fills with warmth, and you settle back into your seat and smile. Yeah, that nap was definitely a great idea.

--

[drizztdohurtin]

Rolan Headcanons: Fatherhood

pairing: Rolan x afab!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

[ masterlist ] [ wip list ]

Warnings: fluff and angst

gonna tag my beloved Cherry again ( @viennacherries ) bc we've discussed so many of these headcanons privately and I want to throw her some credit for any of her ideas that have seeped into my brain and bled into this post <33

Suggested pre-reads: tiefling hcs | tiefling purring hcs | deciding to start a family with Rolan | pregnancy hcs

Fatherhood

even as a full-time member of Rolan nation, and a certified connoisseur of Rolan content - I still can't decide how many kids he would have

I can see him having only one - this, in my brain, is for very angsty reasons

I can also see him having two, and that is probably what I lean toward the most

and I can see him having three because I love the idea of him being overwhelmed by his 3 tiny little tiefling babies running around screeching and pulling each other's tails

I'm a 'Rolan's firstborn is a boy' truther (I have spent hundreds of hours thinking about this)

I'll still use gender-neutral terms for this post in case anyone disagrees

BUT !! I need you to hear me out... I really like writing him as having a boy first because it gives me an opportunity to give him this little character arc

please check out this post about 'Rolan's first day as a dad' that I initially wrote for this post but then it got too long and turned into a blurb so I posted it separately

so while I think that Rolan would react the same whether he had a boy or girl (seeing them as perfect and making him realize that what he sees as perfection, his parents saw as abandonable), I particularly like the idea of his first being a boy because his son would be a perfect reflection of himself when he was a baby

then he'd be seeing exactly what his parents saw when they abandoned him

his love for his son helps him find more love for himself - helps him find more healing from his childhood

becoming a father is what would finally make him realize that the issue was never with him, it was always with his birth parents - no matter how many times anyone up to this point had told him so

he'd also realize that 90% of the intense anxiety he felt about becoming a father during your pregnancy was just a reflection of how much he cared for his baby, and how badly he wanted to do good by both of you

he realized he had been convinced that he was defective - convinced he inherited some gene that would make him a horrible parent

the accumulation of all of these feelings and realizations would overwhelm him a bit at first, and he'd think about it a lot in his moments alone

but being around his baby always made him feel better and like nothing else mattered

He LOVES holding his baby, he is incredibly physically affectionate with them

He is always giving them kisses or gently tracing their features with his thumbs, rubbing/patting their backs, or smoothing down their hair, literally anything

He loves placing gentle kisses on the spot on their forehead between their horns (or where their horns would come in)

He also sometimes rubs his nose against theirs affectionately or softly leans his cheek against their head while he's holding them

He's also fucking obsessed with how his baby smells (as are most parents), so he can be seen smelling the top of their head multiple times per day

Gets cuteness aggression (internally) often, especially when he's holding them close to his chest and he can smell them and they're making the cutest little noises and have his clothing balled up in their tiny little baby fists and he just is like kfdfshfasdfdffffff fuck this is the most perfect thing on the planet

Rolan would carry the baby around constantly if you let him

he'd get those body wraps that allow him to him the baby hands-free so that he can go about his work in the tower but also have his baby with him at all times

honestly, he'd get a few of them so that he always had one to match whatever robes he was wearing that day

yes it's hands-free but he'd still almost always have a comforting hand rubbing or patting his baby's back - ducking down to place kisses on their head idly as he read through books or mail

Rolan always had a habit of talking to himself while he's trying to mull things over in his office - and now that he has a baby he'll occasionally be met with a babbling response

like imagine him alone in his office reading over a paper, thinking about it out loud as he paces, gently bounces the baby on his chest, until he hears little babbling sounds - and he says some shit like, "Ah, yes, good point."

he won't make a sound if his baby's sleeping, though, and he'd speak in a gentle whisper if anyone came into the room to talk to him

He'd also read everything out loud when they're awake

and they always look at him with the utmost intrigue, their little yellow eyes wide and glimmering, their mouth hanging open slightly

he's just one of those parents who's always talking to their child - knowing how stimulating it is for babies, even when they don't know what you're saying

for example, he'll read books and papers out loud to them, and whenever he notices them watching his actions he'll explain what he's doing, especially if he's cooking

While his baby is still a baby, he takes time to refine the skills he learned when he was young and had to care for Cal and Lia - revising his healing spells and ensuring he still remembered how to mend tears in clothing

Rolan is a very anxious and protective father, only trusting a select few to touch/hold them or care for them when he's not there

although he tries to protect them from everything he possibly can, some things are unavoidable

He dreaded the day his child's horns would start coming in and once it finally started, it was the most difficult week of his life

most of the days were hell, his baby so uncomfortable that all they could do was scream and cry - and Rolan was there every second of it

in the worst moments, all he could do was hold them close and focus on providing the rumbling at the top of his chest that normally worked so well to comfort them

sometimes he'd cry with them, his chest tightening at seeing his poor infant trembling through their sobs, clutching the fabric of his clothes tightly in their fists

he did everything he could think of to try to relieve his child's pain - he'd hold an ice pack to their head, he'd attempt to get them to eat, and he'd try healing spells even though they don't really work that way

he had to sit with the guilt of not being able to help his little love as their cries pleaded for him to make it all stop

the child wasn't only in pain, they were also exhausted from crying and from a lack of sleep - which really only made it all worse, like a never-ending cycle

there was only one day he barely had to worry about it, the discomfort finally giving his child a break - allowing them to rest comfortably and smile and laugh throughout the day

and once it was all over, he can't remember the last time he felt such relief

raising his kid in the tower turns out to be the most stress-inducing thing ever, and strongly considers buying a house for you all to live in instead

Rolan's protectiveness and general anxiety over his child would start to manifest as strictness once his firstborn was a bit older

he'd be quite stern with them, and he doesn't really mean to be - he's just so concerned about his child's safety

He's literally so scared of something happening to them their entire life - but at least when they're a baby he can actually protect them

But he knows he has to give his child freedom as they grow, and that's when the paternal worry really sinks its claws into him

He wouldn't be strict in a way that pushes his child away from him, though

he'd always make sure to tell and show his kids how much he loves them - he could never be a dad who refuses to show any emotion to his kids

Because of that, he'd actually do a really good job of building enough trust with his child to the point where they can go to him for anything

His kid(s) know they can go to him with anything, and he won't punish them for telling the truth

Lowkey one of those parents that's like "You're not allowed to drink under the legal age but if you're going to do it, do it at home"

"I'm not saying that it's okay to do, I'm just saying if you're going to do something stupid, then at least do your mother and I a favor and do it as safely as you can."

Rolan loves being a father so much

and despite how actually insane toddlers are, that stage of life is probably his favorite when it comes to his kid(s) because it's the only stage where they have both the perks of babies and slightly older children

They can finally understand and use language, they have their own preferences and opinions, and they can run around and play, like older kids

But they're still small, and they need more sleep than older kids, and they still drink milk and need to be rocked to sleep, like babies

It probably also helps that he is incredibly patient with his kids, rarely ever losing his composure with them

His favorite nights are when he puts his toddler to bed - when he gets to put them in their soft little onesie and talk to them about their day before he reads them to sleep in his arms

But this is a toddler we're talking about, and they get crazy sometimes, especially before bed

there's one night when his child still had pent-up energy from the day, and Rolan knew it would be hard to get them to go to bed willingly

When he brought his child into their room, shut the door, and set them down, they immediately started running around and trying to play with toys

Rolan tried his best to get his wriggly toddler to sit still so that he could get them out of their day clothes, change their diaper, and put on their pj's

he got as far as putting on a clean diaper before his child wiggled out of his hands and started running around

he was often able to reason with his child, but on this particular night, despite his best efforts, it did not work

he stood up, staring at his tiny little tiefling where they stood on the other side of the room with the goofiest smiles on their face

his often serious face cracked a smile before he ran towards his baby with arms outstretched, pretending he was going to catch them

his child shrieked with laughter, beginning to sprint around the room, avoiding their father's outstretched arms

Rolan chased them around like that for minutes, utterly in love with the loud, mischievous chortles erupting from his baby until, eventually, they let him catch them

with a playful roar, Rolan would hoist his baby up in the air above his head as he made his way back over to the changing station

He lowered his child with a bunch of wild, sloppy kisses to their cheeks as he lowered them to lay down, before deciding to get one last laugh out of them

he'd duck his head and start blowing raspberries onto their big ol' baby belly, gently tickling their sides with his fingers - laughing along with his child's loud, gurgly shrieks of joy

He would always remember how hard they laughed that night, along with the pure joy that had been plastered on his baby's face the whole night

[solarmorrigan]

Actually infertile omega!Steve for the WIP ask thing

Y'know what, you're the only person who's asked about this and this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I don't think I'm ever going to develop it past this point, so! I'm just gonna give you the whole thing

Fair warning, I did write this in the midst of an anxiety attack sometime after one in the morning. It's been edited! But that's pretty much the vibe

[CW: ableism, internalized ableism, uh... sexism? is that a thing I need to warn for in omegaverse? I dunno, it pretty closely mirrors real-world misogynistic views, so heads up]

-

Give me omega Steve who genuinely will never be able to have children. Who is tentatively excited after the Upside Down and Vecna and everything to get out from under his parents' influence and stop taking the harsh, heavy-duty suppressants that he was too young to have ever really been on in the first place and to get to actually be who he is. To get to freely express his designation

And instead he finds out that his body is fucked up and he'll never have a normal fertility cycle and he'll never be able to have kids

Give me Steve being told by a shitty, prejudiced doctor that it's basically all his fault for all the damage he's done to his own body over the years - the head injuries, the broken bones, the mysterious flesh wounds. Clearly these things upset the balance of his Delicate Omega Body and that's why his reproductive system is all fucked up (couldn't possibly have been the extended use of those suppressant drugs during his developmental years, oh no)

And Steve isn't exactly devastated at first, but he does feel ashamed. He only admits what's happened to Robin and no one else, and no matter how indignant she gets on his behalf, no matter how hard she tries to push him to get a second opinion, he refuses. He doesn't want to hear how bad he's fucked up from anyone else, thank you very much

The devastation dawns on him later, in stages. It occurs to him slowly what he'll never be able to do, the ways in which he'll always be othered by a society that often still values omegas for their fertility, the way his dream of a big family has been completely shattered

And it occurs to him that he'll never be considered a good mate, damaged in so many ways, unable to even offer children in exchange for whatever other shortcomings he has - which means that as soon as Eddie starts showing interest in him, he has to shut it down as quickly as possible

Because of course Eddie's going to want a family one day, and Steve thinks he'll be a great alpha and a great dad, and he deserves that - he deserves someone who can give him that, who can give him all the things A Good Omega should. So no matter how much Steve wants to be with Eddie, no matter how safe and at ease he feels around him, he can't let Eddie think he's a viable option, and pulls away

And Eddie - well, look, if Steve really doesn't want him, then he'll respect that. He can take no for an answer. But Steve has never really given him a clear no so much as he just started distancing himself. Making himself unavailable, no longer sitting next to Eddie when the whole group hangs out, no longer unconsciously curling into his side on movie nights, just - ghosting, essentially. And that, Eddie will not take

So he confronts Steve; he's not aggressive about it, of course, but he makes it clear that he's not leaving until he gets a straight answer. Tells Steve he's been getting some real mixed signals, and does he want Eddie or not?

Steve says Eddie doesn't want him. Eddie calls bullshit. Of course he wants Steve, he's never wanted anything, anyone, in his life like he wants Steve

But if Steve can look Eddie in the eye and tell him that he doesn't want to be with Eddie, then Eddie will go

And Steve - he's never been a good liar. Not when it comes to feelings. He's never been able to lie about that, so he breaks down and admits the truth, instead: he's a fucked up excuse for an omega, he can't have kids, he doesn't really even know how to do the social shit omegas are supposed to know how to do, so. There. So Eddie shouldn't want him

And Eddie is horrified. Not because Steve is "broken," but because of all the hurt he's taken on over the years, because of the way he seems to think it's all his fault, because he thinks his only worth as a mate is in bearing kids or caring for others. As if anything like that would put Eddie off - as if Steve has nothing else to offer

It's a slow process, after that, getting Steve to accept that he's desirable for who he is and not what he can do

It starts with Robin and Eddie teaming up on Steve and eventually getting him to go to another doctor, a better doctor, who promises Steve that what happened to his system is in no way his fault. It goes on with constant reassurance, which Eddie never minds providing (dramatic little shit honestly loves the opportunity to wax rhapsodic about whatever he loves, which very much includes Steve), with an unconditional acceptance from the rest of the group, with the realization that Steve already has a big family (and multiple children; like, seriously. how did he miss that. Eddie loves to tease him about it)

And eventually, when they're ready, it goes on still with the promise that they can adopt, or consider surrogacy, or just kidnap their friends' pups (Steve laughs at the last one, but Eddie notices that he doesn't say no). There is no right way to do it, no perfect way; as long as Steve just keeps being himself, Eddie will never be disappointed

[di-42]

May's Magnificent Fictions

First off let me share with you a little side note, because the brain wants what the brain wants. After an inner struggle I've finally decided to settle on using the noun "fiction" as countable when referring to works of fanfiction. I will stick to this. It has been bothering me.

And now for something completely enjoyable, let me present to you the lovely fics I've been lucky enough to read in May. I't's been a busy, at times stressful month and I haven't had the chance to read as many as I would have liked. I only made a tiny dent in my Marked for later list, which keeps growing and isn't it wonderful? I still have so much beauty, creativity and bliss to look forward to.

I'll try and tag the writers whose tumblr username I know, so they know how loved they are.

WIPs:

The first two WIPs of this list have made me realise that my new favourite trope is the "they never met" one. Or it might just be that both writers are incredibly good!

My Heart Was Always Yours by @addledmongoose

I love this fic and the author's other work so much that sometimes I worry the writer might think I'm stalking them or something! (I'm not! I promise! I only kind of start staring at my phone around 6pm on a Friday night UK time waiting for an update, that's all!). Anyway. like I was saying, in this fiction Aziraphale and Crowley never met until present day and, at the beginning of the story, neither of them knows the other is an angel or a demon. They have both been tasked by their respective head offices to retrieve Raphael's trumpet so Armageddon can start and they both want to find it and destroy it. So they embark on a journey together, thinking that the other is human. This story is so good. It has an incredibly well thought out plot, the characterisation of both, Aziraphale and Crowley are spot on, their interactions are funny and witty but also deep and very sweet. But the point that's dearest to me is that it shows the character of Aziraphale the respect it deserves, which sadly happens less often than it should. The way the writer describe the building of their relationship and their trust will fill your heart with warmth. The stoty has alternate Aziraphale and Crowley POVs and it's narrated in the first person, which will read funny at first but it will flow within the first couple of chapters and it will have been worth it!

This fiction is updated officially every Saturday but if you're very lucky and depending where you are in the world it might be Friday. Only a few more weeks to go, though, it's almost complete and I'll miss it (But I'll re-read it!) Rated M.

The Last Angel by @bellisima-writes

This is another excellent "they never met" story. In this universe, Crowley and Aziraphale were stationed on earth, Armageddon happened, and Hell won the war. All the angels have been killed, except one. This story only has the first 6 chapters out, but you can already see the wonderful job the author has done of thinking how Aziraphale and Crowley would be without having ever met each other, what would be the same and what would be different. And the same goes for other characters, too: so far we've had an insight of how Beelzebub is like in a different universe and hints at how other characters would behave as well. It is full of promise, it sets expectations that I'm hoping will be subverted and the writer is doing such an excellent job with it all. Please go and show this story some love, you won't regret it!

This fiction is updated weekly, definitely every Friday, but I understand from now on every Wednesday and Friday. Rated M.

The Escort by VinyamaDN @vinyama-23

Human AU where Crowley is an escort and Aziraphale hires him for a date. They start getting to know each other and the rest is history. This story touches very delicate subjects, but it's also funny and fluffy. Please read the tags. Rated E.

Whickber Street by Caedmon @caedmonfaith

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale has a bookshop in Whickber Street and Crowley opens a comic book shop on the same road. It's a slow burn, from one-enemy-to-lovers story, full of humour, charm and fluff. Featuring all the shopkeepers in Whickber Street, which is a treat! Update every Monday and Thursday without fail. Rated E.

Complete works:

And Now All Of My Garden Is Grown In Lavender by ilikeblue

I'm so grateful to my lovely mutual and penpal @dashuntsel for recommending this great human AU. Aziraphale is a successful queer romance author whose books are being adapted for TV. At the start of his career, his agent, Gabriel, insisted he claims to be married in order to gain more readers. Now that the spotlight is on him, Aziraphale needs someone to play the part of his husband. Did I mention that Crowley is Aziraphale's gardener and friend? I'm sure you know where this is going. This story has a little angst and lots of good vibes of trust, friendship, love and loyalty. And a happy ending! Rated E.

Lit by @fellshish

Fellshish is one of my favourite fiction writers and this piece doesn't disappoint. Making people laugh is much more difficult than making people cry and fellshish succeeds in the task so effortlessly! (They can also make you laugh while wanting to cry, but for that you'll have to read their other stories. This one is angst-free). Time-wise this story can be collocated after season 1 and is not canon compliant with season 2. Crowley enrolls in a literature course without realising it was a fantasy literature course. The book that will be read this semester is "Good Omens - The Nice And Accurate Prophecies Of Agnes Nutter, Witch". And the class will get to meet the author, Neil Gaiman. This book seems to describe only too well the event leading to the failed Armageddon, including things that only Aziraphale and Crowley would know. How is that possible? And what would happen if it fell on heavenly or hellish wrong hands? And, oh Satan, did someone say TV adaptation?? A truly amazing, funny piece that will make you feel better after a hard day at work. Rated Teen and up.

Gate Duty by Ginger_cat @gingiekittycat

Not really a crossover, but a Good Omens fiction with elements of The Good Place. You can absolutely read it and enjoy it if you haven't seen The Good Place. placed in time post season 1. Aziraphale is called back to heaven to Gate Duty and he's decided to go despite Crowley's protest. Crowley has Beelzebub assign him to Gate Duty as well, so they don't have to spend 300 years apart. So they set to out to judge the souls and decide whether to send them to the good place or the bad place, as they have rebranded heaven and hell. In the process they meet a few souls that you might or might not know, not the focus of the story. This fiction manages to be funny and incredibly angsty at the same time and it was incredible to see how some of the details in it would resonate with season 2, which wasn't out at the time the fic was written. Rated E.

Of Size And Other Matters by LCwrites

Lovely from strangers to lovers, fake relationship human AU. Aziraphale needs a date to accompany him to an event hosted by his brother, Gabriel. Crowley receives a text from a stranger, clearly by mistake, but why not having some fun? I really like the dynamics between them, the ease and the trust. A tiny bit of angsty pining but quickly and happily resolved. Rated E.

One shot:

Not Nice by Sad_chaos_goblin @sad-chaos-goblin

Great one shot that follows the wall slamming scene!What would have happened if the former nun hadn't interrupted their "Intimate moment"? This fic is a treat, sweet and hot and fluffy all at the same time. Rated E.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @wynnyfryd! Wynnyfryd has 34 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

i don’t know, you figure it out

Plot Holes

biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!

Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!

She's got some of the FUNNIEST writing in this fandom, and it's very snappy too like. She's an editing demon for sure, she can take a concept that I'd think would take paragraphs to explain and find the right words to make it hit just as hard with like, two sentences. I also really really love how descriptive her metaphors are, really visceral sometimes, and she's really good at writing realistic life events but still making them fun to read about even when it's about like, devastating shit. The sex she writes is also intense as hell! -- @griefabyss69

Below the cut, @wynnyfryd answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I am but a humble bisexual — I see two beautiful brown-eyed men makin’ beautiful brown eyes at each other, I go a little insane for two years. It is what it is.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

late-night moments of quiet hopeful hesitant intimacy over a shared joint or cigarette. Thin wisp of smoke between them, stars dancing in their eyes. Yeah. YEAHHHHHHH 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

This isn’t really a trope so much as a dynamic, but I love a good dipshit 4 dingus dialogue-heavy scene. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eddie and Steve can both be very smart and knowledgeable in their areas of interest/expertise, but these are two young dudes with no access to the internet. I love letting them be confidently incorrect dumbasses. Just ‘yes and’-ing each other’s stupidity while an exasperated third character begs for mercy.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Well, this question is impossible and furthermore rude. This question came into my home and didn’t take its muddy boots off. This question never mailed me a thank you letter for my lovely wedding gift. That blender was expensive; the absolute nerve. No but seriously, I think The Lathe by palmviolet is going to stay with me forever.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m a big fan of doing canon divergence from different jumping off points — the beauty of having characters live in the same small town their whole lives is that you get so many great opportunities for these “what if our paths crossed sooner” moments.  I have some very loose notes for a S3 fic where Eddie is the movie theater employee who finds Steve and Robin in the bathroom after they escape the Russians, and I also have an old WIP set between S1 and S2 where lifeguard Steve rescues Eddie and then spends the summer teaching him how to swim. Would love to revisit those after I finish the trailer park AU (which I will be referring to as TPAU because my fingers are tired and because ‘toilet paper au’ makes me laugh.)

What is your writing process like?

Uhhhhh. 😂 I mean, for TPAU, basically just insert the scene from Dune 2 of Paul’s first sandworm ride: I’m shaking I’m sweating there is sand in my nostrils and I am surely about to die— oh wait, maybe I’ve actually got this? Am I actually doing it? Oh shit, look at me go!   For one-shots I like to use a more structured outline and bracket method. I start by dividing my doc into numbered scenes, with each scene getting a notes section and a prose section, like this:

This format gives me a lot of freedom to switch up the order of scenes and to move between scenes so I avoid writer’s block. I can also jump ahead to scenes I really want to write without making a mess of my outline. Once I have something written in the prose section of each scene, I go back and work on replacing each bracket with prose until there are no brackets left. Lastly, I create a new blank doc and copy the prose over in order so I can read the full fic and work on edits from there.  

Do you have any writing quirks?

I have been known to abuse a semicolon. And an em dash. And a conjunction at the start of a sentence. Yes, I do have ADHD.   I’m also a lyricist, so I feel like my prose tends to stray into poetry territory pretty often.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I’m finished! Which is probably why I tend to stick to one-shots; I get impatient and want to post stuff the second it’s ready.

Which fic are you most proud of?

‘i don’t know, you figure it out’ for SURE. I’ve never written a fic this long or stuck to a writing project this consistently in my life. Like ever. The last time I even came close was my first NaNoWriMo when I was 16, which was, uh… years ago, plural, and I’ll leave it at that. 😂

How did you get the idea for i don’t know, you figure it out?

“There’s a dead rat on his doorstep.” That’s it. That first sentence/scene popped into my head while I was bored at work, and then I started thinking, “hey, you know what? I don’t know that anyone’s ever done a fic where Max and Steve trade places for S4; that might be fun.”  And then NaNoWriMo was coming up, so I thought it would be cool to try live posting a fully improvised fic every day for a month to see how many words I could write. And then this tragic wet cat version of Steve Harrington grabbed me by the throat and took over my whole life.

When writing Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!, what was something you didn’t expect?

How SAPPY these two got!! My god, boys, I’m trying to write smut over here, stop having a beautiful existential crisis! (I blame Briston Maroney for that though lol, I think I listened to ‘Body’ like 1400 times that month.)

What inspired Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!?

@inklessletter posted this totally gorgeous art of Steve and Eddie recording themselves kissing, and I promptly lost my mind.  

What was your favorite part to write from biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!?

This exchange: Steve: “What? I’m just asking!” Robin: “You’re being embarrassing!” Steve: “No, you’re just embarrassed. There’s a difference.” Like it’s just so them lmao

How do/did you feel writing i don’t know, you figure it out?

You know when you set out on a long hike in the summer and three hours later your calves are screaming and you’re covered in sweat and your sunburn’s starting to itch and this one horse fly won’t fuck off and your cell phone doesn’t even get service out here so literally WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF, and then you climb that last hill and look out on the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen in your silly little life? Basically that.

What was the most difficult part of writing Plot Holes?

Ooh, that one was fun! The only real difficulty was trying to keep it to a microfic because the concept could definitely be fleshed out to a full story — @griefabyss69 and I were joking around about “what if someone did ‘plot hole’ for the @steddiemicrofic prompt fill?” and then that fic just fell out of my head in about 15 minutes. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

For sure! I’m currently super proud of the graveyard scene in the most recent update of TPAU — I don’t write true horror often, but I love horror so it was really fun to give it a try! Favorite line from any fic is probably this reference to ‘You’re Divine’ in my fic Monsoon Season because I love uncomfortably-aroused prude Eddie, and his internal monologue cracks me up every time I think about it: Freddie Monsoon’s debut novel is called The Fourth Chime, and it is, as far as Eddie can tell, the first installment in a series of unapologetically filthy fuck fests about a man whose lover gets flung into an alternate dimension during an apocalyptic event and miraculously returns as some sort of… sexy bat-boy with a fucking horse dong and a bite kink. Critics are calling it “the most romantic novel of the last decade.” It’s me; I’m Critics.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

My main project right now is finishing TPAU if it kills me, but beyond that, I have a few one-shots for @subeddieweek in the works, including a collab with @griefabyss69 that I’m so so SO excited to share. It’s hot, it’s funny, I can’t wait for y’all to read it. 

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

First of all, as @wormdebut would say: I think you’re pretty. Thank you so much for all your hard work! I love this blog, and I love answering questions <3 Secondly: - Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. - Toss cubed sweet potatoes and parsnips, sliced sweet onion, and fresh garlic in a mix of olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary, and then spread in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet.  - Bake for ~40-45 minutes. (Potatoes and parsnips should be soft without being mushy when you poke them with a fork.) - Prep your sauce: I made a dijon drizzle situation by mixing olive oil mayo, a dash of dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of water, but you could also add a little dab of hot sauce, bbq sauce, or different mustards. Basically just grab like four condiments out of your fridge and play around with the flavors you like until you make a mix that’s thin enough to pour. - Drizzle roasted veggies with sauce. - Enjoy a very tasty side dish (or do what I did and eat the whole sheet as a meal like some sort of parsnip goblin because you were too lazy to make the main dish after chopping all those veggies) okay thank you love you byeeeee

Thank you to our author, @wynnyfryd, and our nominator, @griefabyss69! See more of Wynnyfryd's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[bring-backup-99]

First Time’s The Charm

Read on Ao3

PAIRING: Tech x Phee

SUMMARY: Some sweet smut about Tech and Phee’s first time together

WORDS COUNT: 2501

RATING + WARNINGS: 18+, very spicy, porn with feelings, PiV, fluff, kissing

NOTES: When I’m not working on my Batch reverse harem “Bad Choices” smutlet series on Ao3, I occasionally write other stuff. I have a long form WIP that will probably never be finished, so you all might as well have the smut from it.

And yes, this is virgin Tech (which is basically the opposite of him in Bad Choices), though I will fight people if they suggest that he couldn’t still be good at sex from the start. The man loves research. He knows what and where a clitoris is. I will die on this hill.

The first night Tech had stayed with Phee, it had simply been a matter of them talking too late and falling asleep on her couch. When they’d woken up in the soft morning light, both had felt sheepish. She’d laughed it off. 

“You’ll fall asleep anywhere, Brown Eyes.” He didn’t deny it.

A few days later, they were in her little workshop, telling each other stories, true stories, while she cataloged and he tinkered. As he walked her home, their hands brushed together until finally their fingers slowly intertwined. He didn’t come in, but they stood in the moonlight outside her door holding hands and talked about everything but what was happening between them.

When they had first met, so many rotations ago, she had liked him immediately, primarily because he was handsome, and then later because he was kind, brilliant, intense, and strong. He was so different from the other men she knew. Bringing them all to Pabu was impulsive, but she’d never regret doing it, giving them a safe space where they were appreciated for their kindness and desire to help, where they flourished, where Omega could have a home.

He began walking her home every night, and they would stand outside holding hands, until finally, one night, she leaned into him and he put his arm around her.

“This is nice, Tech,” she’d said, using his real name to show how serious she was. He’d looked down at her.

“Yes. I would use that descriptor as well.”

Impulsively, she’d risen onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. For a moment, she was afraid she’d gone too far. His body had stiffened abruptly, but just as quickly it relaxed. The kiss was sweet and soft, close-mouthed. He’d pulled away slightly.

“I have never kissed anyone before.”

The words overwhelmed Phee. She had thought it was possible his life hadn’t allowed such things, and she wanted to be careful. 

“Is this okay? We don’t have to.” Tech stopped her by lifting her chin so they could kiss again. She pulled him in, and they stayed on her couch while she taught him something new. He was a fast learner.

He stayed with her almost every night, slowly divesting himself of the various layers that he wore as the evenings passed. First, his utility belt and pouches. The night he took off his gloves, and she had felt his bare hands on her own, against her face and neck, had made her giddy. She spent the next day mooning over him like she was a schoolgirl. She chided herself for it; she was too old and wise for this nonsense, but Phee couldn’t stop.

And it was the night he took off his goggles because their kissing had knocked them askew for the umpteenth time that she knew she’d truly fallen for him. Someone’s eyes shouldn’t have that power over her, yet she’d never met anyone so absolutely honest that it reflected perfectly in their gaze. Phee’d been with other people, of course, but she’d never let them into her life the way she let Tech in. 

Because she trusted him, and she knew this gesture from him was because he trusted her too.

*

“Can this come off tonight?” she whispered, running her hands over the chest of his blacks. Their embrace tonight had been particularly passionate and she wanted him as close to her as possible.

“Yes, I would find that acceptable.” 

"Let me know if you feel uncomfortable, Brown Eyes." 

"Just...proceed slowly." 

Phee was trying to do just that. She’d imagined the first time they had sex, that she’d take him to a field of flowers or a beach at sunset…or the back of a library. But now she knew none of those was going to happen.

She circled him, her hand never breaking contact as she felt the contours of his body under the fabric. Finally, she faced him and slowly pulled up the shirt. She ran the back of her hand against his skin, noted that he was hardly breathing. She waited for him to relax, then pulled the shirt off, leaving his torso fully bare. She could feel his tension as he lay back on the bed, his eyes slightly glazed.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she lay beside him.

“Yes,” but the word was almost inaudible.

Tentatively, she stroked his chest, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. She didn’t know what she expected, but his slim, muscular frame fulfilled any fantasy she had had. Her fingers fluttered over a scar on his shoulder. 

"Droid," he said. Another scar on his side. "Knife wound. Not from Hunter," he smiled. He turned slightly and showed her one on his hip. "Shrapnel, only partially because of Wrecker." She leaned over, kissing each of them. Hungry for him, she kissed a trail from his hip to his chest. Impulsively, she licked his nipple, and he cried out in shock. Phee drew back quickly. 

“I'm sorry." 

"No, no. That felt...intense. I was not expecting it.” He drew her to him, kissed her, then whispered, "Do it again." 

Hungrily, her lips moved along his neck, drinking in every reaction he had to her touch, then down to his other nipple. Tentatively, she licked it, feeling the hitch in his breathing, then gently raked it with her teeth. He moaned. She did the same on the other side, reveling in his response to her. 

His hands began to roam around her body, finding their way under her shirt. On fire, she pulled it off and let him explore her at his own pace. She was desperate to feel his skin against her own, but she did not want to overwhelm him. As she had explored him, his hands did the same to her; caressing the small of her back, the nape of her neck, the curve of her breasts. She gasped at his touch, inflamed, desperate for more. He pulled her closer, and she pressed her body against his, chest to chest. He rolled on top of her, lips locked together, one of his legs between her own. All her control was gone. 

She let her hand slide down to the growing bulge in his pants. 

"I want to touch you," she said, giving him time to stop her, but he was as inflamed as she was. He groaned and arched his back as her hand cupped him. His responses to her were unbelievable, feeding the flames of her desire.

“Please, take this off.” She fumbled at his pants. “Please, if you are ready.”

He stood and pulled them off, as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes. Standing next to him, looking into his eyes, she took his erection in her hand. It took every ounce of his self control not to climax right then, the sensations were so overwhelming. She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him. She leaned forward to kiss him and look into his beautiful eyes. She took his hand, and together they guided his length into her as she lowered herself onto him. 

He cried out as he entered her. She moved slowly, never breaking eye contact, until he was fully inside her. 

“Tech, if you become uncomfortable or need us to stop—”

“I can manage,” he said, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused on her, fingers intertwined. She waited a few moments, letting their bodies acclimate to the new sensations, then together they slowly began moving, finding a rhythm that suited them both. 

He held her hips and pushed his pelvis up to be as deep inside her as he could. Her gasps and cries excited him in a way he had never felt, his body responding on instinct as she rocked against him more insistently. 

He could see her eyes losing focus, even as he could sense the same in himself, as he felt the build up in his body, a pressure he had never experienced and did not fully understand. This was so different from the furtive, utilitarian fumblings he managed in the ‘fresher when the need arose.    

In a move that took her breath away, he pressed himself up, put his arm around her waist, and rotated both of them so he was on top of her. The absolutely feral cry she gave him as her limbs wrapped around his body nearly sent him over the edge. He held her close, trying to slow down, to make this last longer, this sweet, intense, incredible feeling. 

She refused to let it happen. She rocked her pelvis against him, desperate for him to lose control, to match her passion. He gasped. 

"I need to...Phee, if you do not stop…I am too close," he groaned. 

"We'll do this again," she whispered. "I want you. I want you inside me. I want to feel you." She felt incoherent, but she also felt him let go. He lifted one of her legs, hooking it over his arm, giving him an angle to somehow be deeper inside her. His body took over, his thrusts stronger, wilder. Her hands pressed on his lower back, encouraging him. 

Her moans of, "Yes, please, yes. Tech. Yes," finally put him over the edge. The absolute bliss of the orgasm was almost too much for him. He buried his head in her neck, drowning himself in her essence, as it pulsed over his body. He lay still on top of her for what he thought was an eternity as the sensation slowly drifted away, leaving him tingling all over like exposed nerves. 

Cautiously, she stroked her hand down his back. He shuddered a bit but didn't say anything, then slowly slid out of her as he rolled next to her. 

"That was amazing," she whispered.

“I…quite agree.” He lifted his head and looked at her, "But you did not..." His voice trailed off. 

She smiled, kissed him, "That's not always the most important part of sex. The...intimacy...this closeness I feel with you, right now. This is better. But also, that was still incredible. You're a natural."

"I did do some research before this encounter…Though it did not prepare me for the intensity of the physical stimulation." She laughed.

"Why is that funny? As I do not have any experience in this area, I wanted to be prepared."

"The idea of you doing research about this on your datapad is very funny, but I'm not going to complain about the results." She rolled out of bed to clean up. 

"It will take a little time before I can physically do this again, but.." For a moment he seemed almost shy, "...would you want to when I am ready?"

She got back into the bed, snuggling next to him. 

"Yes," she said huskily.

“You were correct,” he said, pulling her close against him, “This was... special. More than just a physical act.” He felt foolish for ever having suggested otherwise in one of their long conversations. His voice drifted off, and she thought he might fall asleep, but instead they lay in wakeful silence, intertwined. 

“What is going on in there?" she asked.  

In reply, his hands again began roaming over her body. Lightly, his fingertips raised goosebumps on her arms and down her back. She shivered but felt herself opening again for him. His fingers caressed her breasts, tracing a path around them until he moved and his mouth found her hard nipples. He gently stimulated one, then the other, with his tongue. 

Now that his mind had cleared, he was studying her carefully. Every action and response was filed away. His hand stroked down her side, then to her already parted legs. He kissed her as his fingers explored between her legs, and he drank up her moans. He slid a wet finger up until he found her clit and just barely made contact with it, feeling her body tighten at the touch. He rubbed against it and was rewarded with a deep gasp. He slid two fingers inside of her, leaving his thumb to work against her sensitive nub. Her reaction was instant. Her thighs closed around his hand, and she groaned as his long fingers reached deeper into her.

"Tech," she whispered. "I need you...I need you inside me." 

"Yes, but this type of stimulation will help you to orgasm. I want to ensure that first."

She shook her head, "Oh it feels so good, but I...I don't finish like that. I need..." In her state, words were hard to come by, "...the internal stimulation." 

It took only a moment for him to process this, and then, "It does seem as if I am ready to fulfill this need." Her hand had been stroking him to hardness, but he was so focused on her he had barely noticed.

He pressed into her, slowly, each stroke entering her only a little more than the last, until one had a very pronounced reaction. Then he came up slightly on his knees, lifting her legs with him, sure that this angle would allow him better access to this most important spot. He began with short thrusts and was rewarded by her immediate cries. 

"Yes, oh, Tech, yes, right there," though her physical reaction would have been enough for him to know he had gotten it right. Her hands had grabbed onto the covers, clawing at the sheets. He timed himself to match the crescendo of her moans and whimpers, varying his strokes, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, then returning to stimulate this more sensitive area, watching the build up of tension in her body, noting how her arms moved in spasms, her eyes closed tight, her mouth whispering incoherently. 

Suddenly her fingers were digging into his forearm, her cries a higher pitched staccato than what had come before, and he watched the orgasm overtake her body. She writhed under him, his thrusts against her sensitive inner wall bringing wave after wave of pleasure. As her reaction finally subsided, he lay over the top of her, kissing her deeply, drinking in everything about her, feeling almost more satisfied now than when he had had his own orgasm. He rocked into her gently, feeling the length of himself enclosed in her, enjoying this unimagined intimacy and reveling in the whole of her. 

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close as she could, breathing him into her. He pressed his forehead to hers as he let the second orgasm flow through his body, kissing her, needing her, wanting her.

“Good job, Brown Eyes,” she smiled. “Hard to believe that was your first time.” She liked seeing that satisfied glint in his eyes that came from praise.

“Yes, well, there is always room for improvement, especially since there seem to be an infinite variety of positions, techniques, and implements that can be used to enhance—”

She silenced him with her lips. “Slow down. Let’s just enjoy tonight.” 

And they did.

* *

I also write a smutty Bad Batch reverse harem series that can be found here.

Warning: It gets kinky.

[from-the-clouds]

giving kendall roy a blowjob pls

i have a fic about this here buuuttt i've been so down bad for ken lately and am embarrassed to say i literally dropped all my WIPs to also write this. inspired by this gif from @technicolourtelevision. also please follow my succ sideblog if u are a kendall girlie like myself @kendollroyco!

warnings: smut under the cut (18+ only, oral sex m receiving, degradation, dom!kendall - sorry but i want him to be mean to me) not proofread, and potentially just bad -- i wrote this in like a 30 minute fugue state.

first off, where you do this is kind of important because there are sooooo many good opportunities. maybe you work for him and he's making you suck him off under your desk, his hand down the front of your blouse. you have to go to the bathroom after to clean yourself up because your mascara is smudged and he's ruined your hair. or maybe you're on your knees for him in the back of a car, and he's refusing to roll up the partition. the straps of the gown you've got on are falling off your shoulders, and you're worried about getting caught but he's shoving your head down and he's whispering shit like 'but you're taking it anyways, aren't you?' and you can't help but moan as he shifts his hips so you take him even deeper.

but REALLY what i think about is like, in the most recent episode when he talks about not sleeping well. you're his girlfriend who lives with him, but you hardly see him. and one night when he comes home late you can just tell he's tense, like, ready to snap at anyone who gets in his way. you're curled up wearing one of his old harvard sweatshirts maybe watching tv or looking at your phone and he looks so fucking good in one of those suits that fits him like a glove.

when you ask him how he's doing, he's short and snippy. 'fine.'

'you stressed or something?' you ask, rather than start an argument.

'fuckin', uh, i don't know, what does it look like?'

you're sort of taken aback by how rude his response it, standing over you with his hands on his hips. 'don't tell me you waited up this late for me....' he's trying to chastise you, but you can see right through him.

'you're working too much' you sit up.

'uh-huh, right. i don't want to hear your shit right now, i'm fuckin' exhausted-' and he's trying to be mean, to push you away.

'i bet. all you do is toss and turn at night,' you agree.

you reach out, hook your fingers around the cool silver of his belt buckle and yank. he steps forward, even if his eyebrows are still pinched together, his lips curled down into a frown.

'i could give you something that might help.'

by the time you've pulled his briefs down to his ankles, his face has neutralized, even though his hands are still on his hips. you drop to your knees, ignoring the chill of the italian marble. he smiles a little, then, puts a hand on top of your head.

you don't go slow, you don't want to, and he doesn't let you. he pulls your hair and jerks his hips into your mouth. you take him all, using your hands to spread the slick from gagging on him several times around. of course, he talks you through it, tells you exactly what to do and how he wants it in that deep, raspy voice, which only gets deeper when he's turned on.

'god, you're such a fucking slut.'

and you don't care about looking pretty while you blow him. no, you might normally try to be cute about it, but when he's mean it only makes you more feral. you choke and gasp until tears run from the corner of your eyes and you're drooling, straddling his foot and grinding yourself against his black prada oxford's.

you whine and mewl around him, mouth so full the noises are unintelligible. 'you're so pathetic,' he groans, looking down at you, and you can tell he's getting close because his voice doesn't have the same conviction as before. 'that's it, atta girl, just take it.'

the more you allow yourself to get into it, the more turned on you get. the more turned on you are, the more desperate and filthy you want to feel. it just keeps building, compounding. until you take him just a little too far and retch. 'easy, easy.' kendall pulls back, his voice stern.

glancing up, he almost looks concerned. he scolds you. 'control yourself.'

you're pissed that it nearly sobers you up. 'shhh,' you hiss, swat his hand away from where it's landed on your cheek.

'okay, fine, if you fuckin' want it that bad.' his fingers fist the back of your head again.

immediately, you wrap your lips back around his cock. you use both hands to jerk him while you suck on his tip, bobbing your head and humming around him.

he gets quiet, and that's your cue. he's not great at using his words when he's about to come, but it's a good indication to keep up the rhythm you've built and not stop under any circumstances.

'uh-huh, that's-fuck!' ken makes sure he's buried in the back of your throat when he comes, hard, his hips stilling their movements, but he keeps your head in place with both his hands until he's sure you've swallowed everything he has to give you.

at some point, you pull away and slump against the back of the couch. your eyes are watering, your face feels impossibly hot, and your jaw aches. it's hard to see straight, so you cover your eyes with your hand.

'jesus,' kendall mutters your name.

you peek at him between your fingers to see him squat down. now he's on the same level as you. he moves your hand away from your face, a look of genuine curiosity etched in his features. you'd never blown him like that before. 'where'd that come from, sweetheart?'

'it's dumb,' you shake your head, a little embarrassed. 'i listened to this podcast...'

the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, hand under your chin so you are forced to look at him. 'uh-huh?' he asks. 'at home all day fuckin' uh....taking notes on how to give me good head?'

'shut up,' you go to smack his head away, feeling a new warmth rise to your cheeks, but he grabs your wrist and hauls you against his chest, nose poking into your hair, lips on your cheek.

'is there, uh, anything else they had to say on there i might be interested in learning about?'

'potentially,' you answer. 'if you have all night...'

he laughs, a comforting rumble right into your ear. 'i do.'

[halfusek]

Something inky this way comes! The Ink Demonth emerges once again!

The Ink Demonth is a 31-day event dedicated to the game Bendy and the Ink Machine (and other games associated with the Bendy universe). It’s based on daily themes. As long as your creation involves elements from the game along with any interpretation of the respective day’s theme – it counts!

You don’t have to create something for each day, make as many creations as you’d like. However, if you manage to do all 31 of them, you can submit a form to receive a little gift (drawing request)! In the form, you will have to provide a link to each of your posted event submissions (it doesn’t have to be Tumblr, just a site that’s publically accessible!).

Here is the link to the form (it will be opened from September 1st to September 30th):

Tag your creations with #The Ink Demonth and #Bendy and the Ink Machine. It’s important if you want to have your entry reblogged by me, which I’m going to do to everything I’ll see in this tag. (So don’t @ me, just tag it with the event’s tag and the game’s name. It’s possible that your post may not show up in the tags, if you notice that I’m not reblogging your entries for a longer while, feel free to DM them directly to me on Tumblr. My focus will be mainly on Tumblr, I may interact with posts on other sites but it is going to be with whatever I run into, as this event is Tumblr-focused. Feel free to post on other sites too, though!)

(Due to special circumstances in my life I might be especially slow this August with reblogging stuff, so if you notice that I'm not reblogging anything at all, I might just be having a busy day and will get on it when I'm free! <3)

(And, though I think it goes without saying, if I notice a post containing something I consider harmful content, I will not reblog it and will warn the creator of such content that, depending on the case, they cannot continue to take part in the event with content like this or perhaps even not at all.)

Remember to tag only the finished entries, so the tag isn’t clogged with WIPs!

You can create whatever you’d like! Draw a picture! Write a fic! Do a video edit! Take a cosplay photo! Anything you can come up with that is a creative interpretation of that day’s theme!

(Don’t try to „cheat the system”, though – don’t submit a, let’s say, straight line for each day, I will notice this kind of spam and remember: spamming is a terrible sin. You can make an entry that covers a few themes but as long as you don’t create 31 things, the gift will not be granted to you.)

The event starts on the 1st of August and ends on the 31st. Although, don’t worry if you’re too busy in August, late entries are always welcome! (…for reblogging, as for drawing gifts I’m going to give all of you an extra month, so if you’re aiming for that, the end of September is your deadline.) (I usually also give an extra month before for preparing during July but this year I’ve been too busy to make it for July so apologies!)

Why in August? I figured that since August is the month on Joey’s calendar in his apartment and August is the month during which BatIM takes place, it should be the one! 

Please, make sure to tag appropriate trigger/content warnings!

Thank you for taking your time to read this. Reblogs are appreciated in order to get the word out.

Have fun everyone! 💛🖤

You can view the text version of the full month under the cut~

1. Pencil

2. Friendship

3. Creator

4. Choice

5. Benevolent

6. Machine

7. Flow

8. Pen

9. Failure

10. Creation

11. Reason

12. Angel

13. Children

14. Puddles

15. Color

16. Legacy

17. Eye

18. Purpose

19. Ghost

20. Factory

21. City

22. Radio

23. Contraband

24. Keep

25. Cycle

26. Demon

27. Pit

28. Devour

29. Meat

30. Duck

31. Revival