#finished this last night but just doing a thorough write-up on it now

[morphogenetic]

Mediaposting 2023, #35: Banana Fish (anime)

[said while vibrating very quickly and typing out like 20 different bullet points] i like this series a normal amount

okay so. non-spoiler thoughts:

step 1 YOU SHOULD READ/WATCH THIS. it does have content warnings for literally everything you can possibly think of as needing a common content warning (drug abuse, sexual assault, racism, and thats absolutely just the tip of the iceberg) but my fucking god. no wonder it's been such an influential piece of media on literally every jp anime/manga crime story (especially the BL ones) written since

for a series that is literally one of the early genesis points of BL as a genre i was ABSOLUTELY expecting more actual BL than was in this LOL. not that i'm really upset, bc honestly i really like the way that ash and eiji's relationship is written in a shoujo-y "they obviously care about each other a lot but it's not going to be outright romance" kind of way. bc like, honestly? that makes it way more emotionally satisfying (and devastating). i think it would actually make less sense if anything more happened In the story (though more happening in the epilogue wouldnt hurt LOL)

how the FUCK was this published in a shoujo magazine

the time period change to modern day from the mid-80's has both helped and hindered this series bc like. on one hand. much easier to do everything with a phone. also the update to shorter's character design was excellent,10/10 no notes. on the other hand. the Everything About It makes it so obvious that it was written to be a product of its time.

speaking of ^ ash turning from A Guy Who Knows How To Use A Computer into a hacking genius is so. why. i mean you can update it for sure but Why Like This

god i wish this had more room to breathe sometimes bc the exposition goes WILDLY fast sometimes. why did they try and do 19 volumes in 24 episodes. the 39 episodes that the director wanted would have been so nice to have

that said: the emotional moments that i actually give a shit about and that make up the core of the weight of the story are given what they deserve. at least up to volume 5 they are. gestures at ep 9? and 22 with a pained smile

i literally could write an essay about why it works so well as a spin on the american-style gangster story even while it definitely has flaws. and how its influenced so many fucking things. my god.

it has flaws for SURE but the rest is so good that i don't care. which is rare for me (gestures at nirvanai/neo twewy being other examples)

spoiler thoughts under the cut (like full-very-ending-of-series spoilers) but YEAH UH I LIKE THIS THING CAN YOU TELL BY HOW MUCH I WROTE ABOUT IT.

it does kind of annoy me that literally all of the canon-MLM (probably gay but you know) guys are horrible people lol. like wow love how the gay predator stereotype is on full display here. feeeeels baaaaad. i know i know asheiji homoeroticism i am ON THAT TRAIN

however yut-lung being feminine out of a wish to carry on his dead mom's legacy is kind of a slay. ive seen people go "ugh it sucks that one of the villains is a feminine man' but while he is definitely not a good person hes one of the less terrible villains, just like. as a person. hes also a teenager in shitty circumstances just with way more power and sway

here's the part where I admit that I was spoiled on the ending so it didn't hit as hard for me OOPS. however. the anime DOES leave it open-ended and it fucking irritates me that anime-only people are like "boo i hate the ending bc ash dies!!!" when it is LITERALLY AMBIGUOUS. i have heard that the manga is less ambiguous about it but :') oh well. anime-onlys what are you doing

speaking of ^ i actually like the ending. like i think a lot of people who absolutely hate it must not have a lot of familiarity with gangster movies as a genre bc it is a genre convention that the Main Gangster dies in the end. granted this was a hayes code thing which the manga definitely did not have to do LOL but its definitely supposed to feel unfair bc ash's damn LIFE is unfair.

however i'm glad the anime makes the ending ambiguous bc that feels like a more fitting end. like ash's life was always in limbo, considering what he was doing, so making his life in limbo at the end too? Good. Yes. Do That

the fucking. everything with shorter and the sa-yo-na-ra bit. i die. that shit is so emotionally painful

i know this sounds weird but i kind of wish they dragged out the "what the hell does banana fish mean" thing a LIIIITTLE longer but by that i mean like, halfway point of the series. like they could have used a little more time to figure out what it is. also that would have let shorter live a little longer ay lmao that said this criticism also almost definitely applies to the manga soooo. you know

[jarofstyles]

Letting Loose

Another installment of best friend’s dadrry!!

Now.... Listen. It's filth. Straight up, but their dynamic is building so you can see some stuff starting... hehe. PLEASEEEE let us know if you want more of them. xoxo 

Check out our Patreon for 100+ exclusive writings and early access!

Part 3

Reminder that Y/N is an adult and met him as one too <3

warnings- smut, choking, spit play (sorta), daddy kink, age gap, degradation, name calling, mention of ex, jealousrry, forbidden/taboo relationship, breeding kink xoxo

----

Y/N knew what she was doing.

She was taunting him. Teasing him. Making him mad. Harry was a possessive man, and both of them knew it. He had declared her body as his multiple times, now becoming every time they had sex. And ever since Lia had gotten a girlfriend, she had been out of the house a lot more- which meant that Y/N had been in the house without the risk of her friend catching her on her knees for her father.

Harry was a generous man in all capacities. He had let her stay when her apartment flooded, had always provided food and paid for her when they all went out, left money out for them to order pizza, even paying for their trip to Cancun after graduation. But it seemed his generosity knew no bounds when it came to Y/N, unfiltered.

His hands snuck underneath his shirt, mouth connecting to her bruised neck as she finished applying her nightly skincare. Lia had gone on a ‘mountain retreat’ with her girlfriend last night and wasn’t due home for another 4 days, which Harry was taking full and complete advantage of.

With an empty house, having Y/N there felt a bit like a different universe. Harry had been indulging in his touches, grabbing at her and pulling her into his lap, swimming with her in the pool, holding her to his chest while she made breakfast. He was borderline clingy, but he knew that’s how he was when he liked someone. Attached at the hip.

When he got his divorce, he had strayed far away from this sort of thing. He had his one night stands but ultimately had decided to lay off if anything romantic since his marriage had ended up being a disaster. Lia had been the one good thing to come out of it- and he knew he was playing a dangerous game, sleeping with her best friend, but it was more than that.

That was something else that scared him. This girl, this sweet woman who had come into his life in such a way that should make him take 10 steps back, had him closer to her than ever. Closer than he had allowed himself to be with anyone else. She was just… refreshing. Invigorating. Their conversations had been enjoyable pre-sex, her mind always impressing him with the things that came out of her mouth- but now that he got to see her with almost no boundaries? His admiration for the woman had increased tenfold.

Just laying in bed talking, bringing up moral questions and things that she believed, their fingers lazily linked together as she talked with her hands and moved them about- it was one of the things he loved the most. Then there were moments like the current one, where he hadn’t given her a moment alone in the bathroom.

“H, please.” She hummed, taking the peach face toner and placing it down. “You’re making me spill.” His mouth on her neck had distracted her from the task at hand, shakily applying the toner to a cotton round as she tried to finish her routine before moisturizer. It was a very strict and thorough one.

“M’sorry.” He sighed, pulling away from her neck but making no motion fo take his hands out under her shirt. Her skin was warm and silky, stomach clenching as his hands sprawled out over it. “Just… gets to me when I see my marks on you.” He rested his cheek against hers, looking at their reflection in the mirror.

While it was apparent that he was older than her, they looked.. good. He had been surprised the first time he saw it, how she had melted into his grip and blinked into the reflection with a nod. It didn’t look like a father and daughter- thank fucking god- but it looked like they were a good looking couple. One that people would perhaps understand the gap considering they were both good looking and Harry wasn’t an old bag quite yet. He did have some graying at the temples, but Y/N had let him know how much she liked the idea of him being a ‘silver Fox’.

“I know.” She peeped, looking at them in the mirror. A dark mark resided on the curve of her jaw, the other hidden under the skirt and on her thighs. “Can’t be so careless when Lia gets back, though. Unless you want me to make up a whole story about some guy I’m seeing again. We both know how much Daddy doesn’t like that.” Her tone was teasing, a faux pout taunting him about the subject.

So, maybe, possibly, he had fucked her within an inch of her life the last time she had used that excuse. That she had blamed it on one of those stupid boys she met at the bars and said they’d gone out and done the deed in the car when in reality, the origin of the marks had been from a few days prior when she had been at Harry’s office riding him on his couch. Risky, all things considered.

His jaw set as he pulled his hands out from her top, turning her around so he could look into her eyes. “None of that. You don’t have to get so… detailed in those stories either.” He huffed. “We both know that none of those boys could give you half of what Daddy gives you. None of the orgasms, none of the pretty gifts, none of the sweetness. So I don’t want t’hear about these fake hookups.”

Y/N liked this. When he got huffy and possessive, when he got the fiery glare and clenched jaw. She loved to taunt him and make him show her just how much he hated it. “No? Those boys can’t give me what Daddy can?” Her fingers trailed over his chest, tapping over his necklace. “That’s what your appeal is, isn’t it? Being a real man. Giving me all the things they haven’t gotten the experience to do. Even if it makes you a dirty old man to show me, you will.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth, fully expecting the next move.

Harry grabbed her hips and hauled her up to sit on the sink top before tangling his hand in her hair. “Watch it.” His warning made her shiver slightly, head tilted back by the firm grip he had in her hair. “Just hours ago you were on your knees begging for this ‘dirty old man’s cock down your throat.”

Y/N keened, a giggle leaving her throat as she grabbed at his shirt and pulled him closer, legs spreading so he could stand in between them. She loved to rile him up, to watch the flame burn inside of him. Getting his possessive reaction, this jealousy fueled her. She wouldn’t go off and do anything with anyone else- there was no desire or reason to. Harry had fully satisfied her every need. It was just nice to feel desired. To see him bristle at the thought of anyone else touching her because he wanted her all to himself. “I did. And I enjoyed every second of it.” Her voice was still slightly hoarse from the act. “Don’t need to get so jealous. You know I will end up with you. M’just covering for all the marks you’re giving me.”

“Don’t like thinking about it. Y’go out and reject all of them, I know you do. But the idea of it irritates me.” He exhaled, feeling her slightly damp fingers brush under his own shirt. Her head tilted back, her face bare from any makeup and glowing from the rigorous skincare routine she had just performed and pouted slightly up at him. “Don’t give me that lip, Petal.” His thumb caught it, tugging it down slightly before it snapped back into place. “Just like it when you remember that you’re Daddy’s girl, is all.”

The softened tone made her stomach dance, leaning into his hand with a content sigh. He took such good care of her. Y/N knew that she was playing a risky game but this sort of shit was worth it. “I am. M’your girl.” She peeked up at him with her own hazy eyes, letting her fingers catch on the waistband of his shorts. “Are you going to show me that I’m yours?” Dipping them in, she felt the prickle of his hair. Neatly cropped, trimmed to perfection, he kept just enough that made her mouth water. Enough to tickle her nose when she was able to get him down all the way.

“I’m going to make sure you remember for days, sweet girl.”

—-----

The sound of skin slapping filled the warmly lit bedroom. His bedroom was a sanctuary, somewhere off limits for anyone besides him- and much to anyone else’s surprise if they knew, Y/N. Soft, warm light emanated from a vintage lamp on the bedside table, casting a gentle glow on the room while Harry looked down at the girl sprawled out underneath him, clutching the white sheets he had spent a stupid amount of money on. He only wanted the best for her and her body. Knowing she would be staying the whole week, sleeping with him the whole week, he had made arrangements to have the best of the best. To show her what was possible.

“There you go, baby. Just like that.” The depth of his voice made her shiver under him. Her cheek was pressed to his pillow, knees up and back arched as Harry took her from behind. It was the second round, her body deliciously sensitive but aching for more. Aching to please him and make him let loose on her body. A large, warm hand held her waist as he guided her back on to his cock, watching as she fucked herself on him. Pressing back into him and filling herself up, letting her ass hit his hips and ripple and move just the way he liked it.

“S’good?” She mewled, eyes hazy as she stared vacantly across the bedroom. “You like when I do this? Just want t’be a good girl for you, Daddy. Want you to feel good.” Her voice was wrecked, slurred as she had her cheek smushed against the softness of the icy white pillowcase. Her mouth watered, sure to drip in a little bit, but all the girl could do was take it. Sex had never been this good with anyone else in her life. The older man knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it.

Harry had always been such a patient, calm, controlled man since she had met him. Never raised a voice, never did a single thing inappropriately. He had played all the right cards, but since she had seen him again and everything had changed between them, she could see another part of him. A part she was desperate to help let loose.

The older man had a wildness, a depth to him that was unexplored. A taboo part of his desires that he had never allowed himself to look at. Y/N could see it, could feel it unraveling with each day she spent with him. She made him feel safe but invigorated, which was exactly what she wanted to do. This was something so wrong in theory, but it felt so right. There was no way his hand fit that perfectly on her waist for no reason. She had taunted and tugged at the seams keeping his deepest, darkest desires hidden, trying to unravel them for him. To fulfill the pieces he didn’t know had been missing.

“I do, baby. You are a good girl, my good little girl. Make me feel so fucking good. Never get enough of you, always want you with me. Want to be inside of you every single fucking day.” The man knew that if he had his own way, she would be the one he woke up to every morning and the one he went to sleep with at night. This entire week of playing house had woken up a bigger urge, a primal urge for the girl. An ownership. He was greedy and selfish, but he was loving every fucking second of it.

“You can. You can fuck me however you want, do whatever you want to me. Anything in the world. I just want to make Daddy happy.” Her voice was whiny, face rubbing against the pillow he slept with as he watched her ass recoil with each throw back of her cunt. His cock was glistening with her arousal, wet and slick from her past orgasm. She was going to have bruises on her hips, on her thighs, on her breasts from his handling of her. There would be no denying the fact that she had been fucked deep and thorough, that he had spent time and effort into making her writhe underneath him. “I’m your girl. You said it, I’m all yours to do whatever you want. Be dirty with me, Daddy. Let go. Fuck me how you want.”

Harry didn’t know how else he could want her. This much was a fantasy come alive. The sweet, tight cunt clenching over his cock was heavenly enough. Her encouragement didn’t stop, though.

“Know you're holding back from me. Tell me how much you love it. You love fucking tight, young pussy? You like the change from soulless sex with your ex wife who could barely get you half hard?” Her giggle was cut short by a harsh slap to her ass, the sting making to fall into a moan. “Mm, fuck. I love that. You do, don’t you? Know that it’s risky but you like being inside of me. M’the best pussy you’ve ever had. Admit it.” Y/N’s panting words had him clenching his jaw- mostly because she was right.

He had gone from subpar, emotionless sex to this. To an exciting, adventurous, dirty woman who he most definitely shouldn’t be sleeping with but was too addicting to the heart and to his cock. A woman he liked too much to call a friend with benefits, but was too risky to publicly announce as his girlfriend- even if he desperately wanted to.

The words had a thread snapping, his body crowding hers as he pressed his chest against her back as his cock continued the deeper thrusts, knocking her thighs together a bit more as he covered her body with his own. His hand fell flat against her pillow, a deep chuckle leaving his lips- one that sent a dangerous zing up her spine.

She had done it.

“You are. You’ve got the best cunt I’ve ever fucked, the best mouth I’ve ever fucked, and as soon as you let me in that pretty little ass? That will be mine, too. Most useful set of holes that’s ever walked through my door.” His rough tone had her moaning, success spreading through her body as his opposite hand that wasn’t keeping him up slipped under the pillow to grab her throat. “Been so nice to you when you just antagonize me. You want me to be really dirty, baby? My sweetheart wants to hear what really goes on in my mind every time I see her?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Please, Sir. Please. I want to know everything.” She was showing her hand, showing exactly how badly she wanted to know what went on in his head. “Tell me. Tell me, I wanna do it all for you.” Y/N would love it if he was a little mean, if he was a little more rough. She knew he treated her delicately because of who she was but that was exactly why she wanted him to lose it. “Treat me like your holes, Daddy.”

Harry had been slightly shocked at the words, though he shouldn't have been. Y/N had always shown that she was a dirty girl, but the depth of it was still to be discovered. It obviously went past a bit of exhibitionism.

“My sweet girl wants to be treated like a set of holes?” He laughed breathily. “Fuck. What am I going to do with you. Silly, silly girl.” He tightened the grip on the sides of her throat, feeling her squeeze around him. His thrusts increased in speed, weight bearing down on her to make her feel him everywhere. He wanted her to be engulfed in him.

“Every time you walk in that fucking door, I want to drag you away. Want you hanging off my cock every time I get the urge, because I know you’d love it. Been dirty since day fucking one, dragging me into that poolhouse and making me be a bad father. S’that what gets you off? Fucking your friend’s dad?” He snarled, breathing against her ear as his balls slapped against her cunt, getting them just as wet as he wanted.

“Y-yes, Just you, Daddy. Only ever you.” Her weak reply came out, hand covering his that held her throat. Her eyes rolled back into her head as he gave it to her good, a new level to their activities unlocked. She had peeled back another layer of the man.

“Better have fucking been. But I know you’re a slut. Just for me. S’only ever been just for me. Just like you said, hm? Needed an older man to give it to you and then you got addicted. Poor little girl. Addicted to the one cock you shouldn’t crave.” His faux sadness made her whine, slickness dripping out of her cunt. The sharp thrusts and his tight grip, how she could barely move was one of the best things she had ever experienced.

“It’s mine.” Was what escaped her. The little thing had enough energy to say that, the stimulation to her body and the slap of his balls against her clit driving her dangerously close to her second orgasm of the night.

“Is it? Oh, silly little girl. What a desperate, selfish slut. You want my cock to be all yours?” He grinned against her skin, biting against her neck as he groaned. “It can be. You can have it. Drain me so fucking good, take all my cum so well, hm? S’what you deserve. Be a little set of holes for Daddy to stuff his cum into. You’re so good at it a-already. Fuck.” He hissed as he felt her cunt contracting, close to her orgasm. He could feel it, feel how close he had gotten her.

“You’re going to cum from that? God, look at you. Thought you were such a nice girl when my daughter first brought you home. Now you’re just a pretty cunt for me to cum inside. Think m’gonna keep you, though.” His prick was so wet it almost slipped out as his hips slammed into her, her quivering cunt urging him on. “Think I should make you stay. Should get my cum nice and deep and knock you up. What d’you think?” His grunted words sent her into a squirm, nodding reverently against his hand.

“Yeah- yeah, I’d want it. Can do it, keep me.” She babbled, eyes watering as she felt completely and utterly pathetic. The larger man was giving it to her just how she needed, the lightheadedness of his fingers rhythmically squeezing her neck and his dick fucking her better than any other thing she had felt having her right on the edge.

“Yeah? Gonna take my cum and give me a baby?” He laughed, drunk on pleasure. “That’s it. M’gonna do it. Drain my cum into your pussy and mark you as mine. Let it catch, let you get full of my baby and let everyone fuckin’ know who’s girl you are. F-Fuck, baby.. Please.” He grit out, mouth opening as he felt it. He could feel her falling over the edge, a broken moan escaping her swollen lips as he body squirmed underneath his own.

She gushed around his cock, whimpering out his name as the words and his actions had her falling over the crest. The slick, filthy sound of her drippy cunt being pounded by his cock and the grunts coming from the man above her filled the room as she could feel him finally starting to crack. His arm quivered, cock twitching in her pulsating pussy as he finally unloaded inside of her.

“Oh- oh my god, fuck.” He slurred out against her shoulder, biting down and getting a squeal from her as he growled against her skin. The most feral he’d ever been. His thrusts slowed but didn’t completely stop, Harry hellbent on fucking his cum as well into her as he could. He wanted her filled. Releasing the skin with his teeth, his tongue ran over the bite mark in apology, a grove of whispers growing from his lips.

“There we go. That’s my fucking girl.”

“Took me so good.”

“Wrecking me, m’so obsessed with you.”

“So proud of you.”

“Take such good care of me, sweet girl.”

They were followed with kisses, Harry lazily turning her head and connecting their mouths despite the odd angle as he finally stopped, letting himself stay buried inside of her. He could feel she had drooled a little bit, fueling his ego as he let them both cal down from the aftershocks of their orgasms.

“Mmm.. That’s what I’m talking about.” Y/N giggled tiredly, resting her cheek back against the pillow as he stroked the sweaty hair away from her face. “Told you I wanted you to let loose, that’s what I wanted. My god.” It was so good, she felt drunk. Drunk on good dick, apparnetly.

“Yeah.. well now you’re in trouble.” He mumbled, though the smile on his face indicated it wasn’t seriousl. “Didn’t know I had that in me… But now that I do, you’re the one who’s going to have t’deal with it.” He kissed her cheek, smirking to himself about how it had been so good she had let tears fall. This was a new high for him.

“I better be. We established that I’m yours and you’re mine. If I find out otherwise, m’gonna chop your dick off.”

Harry winced, shaking his head quickly. “No, baby. No. Don’t think I could get hard for anyone else at this point.” It was too true.

This girl had him completely and utterly fucked.

“Let me sit here for a minute and then I’ll take us to clean up. I’ll help you redo all your skin stuff.” He nuzzled against her cheek, placing a few little pecks on the hot skin. “Sorry I ruined it.”

“Trust me- I am never going to be mad at you for that when you fuck me that good.” Y/N snickered. Her heart did swell at the offer though. This man was unreal. “I’d be a fool to complain.”

[risafeywritesdrarry]

HATE-DATE

DRARRY MICROFIC ❤️💛/💚🩶 (wc: 300)

The frosty air seeped into Draco’s skin, making it feel as though his heartbeat had slowed to a dull tattoo. He stammered, “Potter. I was, uh, considering… you know, Hogsmeade. Perhaps you’d want to—”

Harry grinned knowingly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hogsmeade? What about Hogsmeade, Malfoy? Should I call my friends over here before I let you finish that statement?”

Draco wrestled against his own pride as Harry stared at him, anticipation lighting up the Gryffindor's face. “Don’t make this unbearable, Potter.”

“Looking to sweep me off my feet with your broom? Or do you want to show me off like a trophy wherever we go? Are you going to parade me around on your arm like a sparkling new boyfriend next to that prefect’s badge of yours?”

Caught off guard, Draco scowled. “No, you prat! I meant, like… do you want to hang out? As friends, but—you know… not as friends?”

Harry’s teasing expression intensified. “I can only guess you mean as more than friends.”

“That’s the exact opposite of what I mean,” Draco said tensely through clenched teeth.

“So you want to go on a date as enemies? Is that it?”

“In a manner of speaking…”

Harry’s eyes softened as he picked up on the sullen vulnerability in Draco’s deathly pale face. “Well, Malfoy, it’s about time you asked. I’d love to go on a hate-date with my sworn enemy.”

Draco’s ears reddened as he glared at nothing in particular. “And would you hold hands with me while we’re there?”

Harry refrained from grinning too much as the flush reached far enough to color Draco’s nose. Without any further taunts, Harry reached out and took hold of Draco’s hand. “I’ll hold it even now, if you want.”

“God... don't be stupid, Potter.” But just like that, the frost began to thaw in Draco’s heart.

♡END♡

NOTE: Last night I finished the first edit and scene additions for Year 5 on the Drarry longfic Labyrinth of Hearts, so I'll be taking a short break for maybe a week or so to let the new chapters "rest". Then I'll do a final, thorough edit and start publishing it to AO3. Figured I'd write a short Drarry before heading out for a celebratory lunch. Year 5 is 72,000 words long, so it feels like a milestone worth celebrating.

[mins-fins]

two slow dancers.

&&. watching you paint has become a state of relaxation for renjun, you realize how much more vocal he is about his love for you than you thought.

pairing: huang renjun x m!reader

genre: fluffy like clouds, gay preple 😢

warnings: none!

word count: 0.8k

notes: renjun 🙁…….renjun 😖……..renjun 😢….. my wife i love him sm 💔 um anyway so last night i had a DREAM about renjun and i realized how good of a plot it ended up being despite how jumbled up it was 😞 i remember all of the good parts and that's what matters! um anyways take this writing from the corners of my mind

this was published so xiao dejun doesn't murder user @junjiie 😊

"shouldn't they be flying then?"

"well they don't actually have to flying, the wings are there for symbolism".

renjun eyes somehow un-blur themselves, and he stares for a long time trying to figure out what you mean by symbolism. now— renjun's not an idiot (he's actually very smart if he does say so himself!), it usually takes him a good few minutes to get what your talking about when your referring to symbolism, but in five minutes he ends up getting it.

he enjoys watching you paint, just watching the whole process intrigues him. before this, before you, renjun wasn't necessarily a fan of art museums, but ever since you've come into his life, with your stupid puns and your paintings full of symbolism, your shared apartment has pretty much become an art museum in itself.

the creativity you harbor shows no bounds, you paint practically everything of interest to you, thoughts you had at three in the morning with a long lecture ahead of you in a few hours, things you'd seen outside that were just too out of this world to not remember, or your reminiscing about moments in your life that will only happen once.

renjun thinks your mind must be the most interesting place in the world, your just thinking all the time, brainstorming. even when you aren't physically painting, your drawing up ideas in your head of what to put on your canvas.

and somehow, all of them just connect to you, all your paintings just contain something special that scream you, renjun can't fathom how you do it.

sometimes he describes it as a "superpower" you have, and you always manage to laugh at the wording of his sentence when he says so.

renjun just has this way of describing things, you have to give him credit on how incredible he is.

"the wings aren't meant to be taken literally.." you mutter, finishing up the final touches for your painting, somehow, you seem to still be full of energy, despite the fact that you've currently been up for a good 17 hours (renjun counted for you), and haven't touched your bed once today since you crawled out of it first thing in the morning. "they represent purity, innocence, it's truly associated with white birds so—"

you pause in the middle of your sentence, worried that your boring your boyfriend, but when you glance over at renjun, his full attention is on you, he's completely focused on what your talking about. "and? continue!"

his interest surprises you, most people you know roll their eyes when you begin explaining the meanings of your paintings. you don't mean to annoy anyone, so you've become accustomed to giving short and easy answers when people ask about the meanings behind your paintings, you often feel like your doing too much if you give such a long and thorough explanation.

renjun doesn't care though, everything you say is of importance to him. he isn't looking around the room, he isn't zoning out, he isn't focusing on a random part of the couch and zooming in on it, his attention is all on you.

he cares about what your saying.

you snap out of your mind, though glad about the whole revelation you just made, you forgot you were in the middle of a sentence. "that's why i chose them, this painting is meant to represent childhood innocence, and white birds, innocence".

you almost feel like you sound stupid in a way, but as renjun glances back at the painting, the one he'd sat and watched as you created with your own two hands for the past two and a half hours, he smiles, his eyes light up.

admiration is the obvious answer, you know the look because you can't count how many times you stared at renjun with the same exact stare. he laughs at a thought he has, and then turns to you, completely unaware of how you were looking at him so lovingly. "it's beautiful, i love it" he tells you, staring at you the same way he admired the painting beforehand.

you can't stop the way your face heats up, and your sure renjun can tell how red you are. if he can he doesn't say anything about it, just smiles at you, and you swear your face is practically burning at this point, it's a little funny to you that your getting so flustered over words your literal boyfriend is saying, you assumed after the two of you started dating you'd be less like this.

but no, renjun just has this power over you, you'll always be flustered by his compliments no matter how much you try to resist his crazy charm.

somehow, after minutes of getting flustered over a compliment and pretty chinese man's smile, you find your voice. "thank you".

renjun snickers, noticing the flush on your cheeks.

"your so cute".

"i don't think you should be talking".

renjun smiles.

he loves you, loves you so much.

[android-and-ale]

🍹How do you decide a story is ready to post?

That’s an excellent question! 

It really depends on how much time I have and how much editing I need to do.

IN AN IDEAL WORLD

After I finish the first draft of a story or chapter I’ll let it rest for at least 2 days (but no more than 5, or else all the details will fall out of my brain). That gives me enough distance to see it through somewhat fresh eyes. 

If it’s a humor piece, now the long process of editing begins. Humor takes me about 3x longer than any other genre. The first pass is for clarity, content, and commas. My god I use too many of those. The second pass is for jokes. A lot of the best jokes happen during that edit, when humor is the only thing I need to focus on. If I have ample time, I’ll let it rest for another night, do one more light read to tighten it up, then off it goes to AO3. 

MEANWHILE, IN REALITY

When I’m trying to keep to a tighter schedule (like posting weekly-ish chapters) all of that gets condensed. Instead of resting two days, I might finish the story/chapter one night then do one content/humor edit the next day after work, or even later that night, if it’s the weekend. The last read to tighten it up often doesn’t happen. 

You can really tell the difference. Replicator Roulette is TIGHT because I took a whole week to edit it. It’s full of jokes because I had a whole editing session where that was the only focus of the process. Some chapters of One Daily Shoulder Pat, on the other hand, have been pretty rushed. 

This is why I’m not shy about going back days or weeks later to tighten things up a little. I don’t make major plot or character changes to published stories, but I’m entirely comfortable rearranging words and punctuation for clarity.

I find that the more I write, the easier the editing process becomes. When I’m cranking out a 5000 word chapter every week, the editing process is just part of the routine. When I’m writing more sporadically, the difference between the rush of getting words out and the slog of making them behave is rough. 

KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO ACHIEVE, THEN CAP YOUR EDITS

It’s so easy to go full e e cummings. I cap my edits at 5 passes. The maximum I allow myself is:

Initial read through with full freedom to do whatever

Clarity, content, and commas

Humor

Another read through to make sure I didn’t bungle things when adding jokes

Final quick pass before posting

After that it is DONE. Each edit has a purpose. I know what I want to get out of the session. If you’re that thorough (which, as I said before, I often am not) then it’s time to set it free and move on to your next story/chapter. 

I’d love to see other writer’s answers to this ask. How do you decide when you’re ready to post?

[conduitandconjurer]

sorry this got long, so keep scrolling if you aren’t in a headspace for a mutual to vent ooc. 

i’m upset for stupid reasons that, i think, go back to bigger or deeper things IRL.

i’m upset that i’ve been too busy as my mother’s sole caretaker OR playing frantic catch-up at work (i’m a professor and it involves a LOT of grading, lecturing, reading, and writing, and frankly extracurricular things like counseling and reporting concerns about students’ emotional or physical safety) to do things like shower, sleep 7-8 hours a night, eat as healthily as i should, exercise, and most of all, do ANYTHING creative to my own satisfaction. it has been more than a WEEK since i have showered! it has been since JUNE since i have even started a complete, finished, full-color artwork. 

yeah, i know the positivity drill: “you create things for your own joy, not to be good at them.” but i only enjoy making things (image or word) that i can do with a certain degree of thoroughness and depth. i don’t like to half-ass anything. there’s also executive dysfunction borne of crippling anxiety and depression, which are more situational (C-PTSD) than the result of brain chemistry.

so i’m mad. i’m sad. i’m lonely. i’m tired. i want to just have some semblance of a normal adult life. i have not had a normal life since i was diagnosed with an incurable, progressively worsening illness AT AGE SIX. and i have let it get MUCH worse (my kidneys, stomach, eyes, lymph nodes, and blood vessels are all so badly damaged that there is no fixing them, there is just praying they don’t get worse, and now all sensation in my hands is going too: i can barely type this) because i’ve had to take over for my mother (no, insurance won’t help us, believe me, i’ve looked into it: she’s on dialysis but somehow “not sick enough”) and i have NO TIME to see my OWN doctors and do the necessary lifestyle changes to make MYSELF any better. i want to take a shower, and have energy to do anything after that. i want to go on a date. hell, i have a new boyfriend, but i find dating him to be a chore that i dread because i am so fucking drained by the end of the week that I’d rather just go to bed. 

i want to be selfish. i just want to be SELFISH for ONE DAY. 

but i know that’s not realistic.  i mean i live in a world where everyone, EVERYONE, that i know, has just gone back to attending major events maskless, even though COVID is still surging. people like me are apparently expendable; we’re “sick anyway,” so if we die, it’s “expected.”  we get left behind and NO ONE NOTICES. 

i won’t be able to do Sheehantober/Sheetober, whatever it’s called, that super cool thing with all the creative prompts. 

i won’t be able to draw/paint the entire notebook of ideas i’ve had waiting for “free time” since last february.

i won’t have time to answer my drafts here, that have been sitting since may.

i won’t be able to even catch up on Discord threads, and I CAN’T EVEN FIND THE TIME TO CELEBRATE KLAUS’S BIRTHDAY WITH GOOFY LIGHT HEARTED SIMPLE THINGS. I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT IT ENTIRELY. 

but honestly THAT DOESN’T MATTER EITHER, because i haven’t had the time to form many meaningful connections with people (aside two lovely souls who know who they are) in this fandom, and nobody inboxes me or responds to my open starters anyway.  plus if they did, i’d probably be too sick or tired to do a thing about it. 

mom just spilled perishable stuff all over the kitchen floor trying to get her own food, so now i have to go mop that up even though my sciatica is so bad that i’m sweating. this weekend, i have to somehow find time to get a house cleaner, inventory and remove extra dialysis supplies (32 HEAVY boxes to cover), find and buy a table with very specific parameters to hold a dialysis cycler, etc etc etc). a day in the life. 

and you think, “can’t you ask somebody to help?” friend, if you say that, you have never experienced TRUE chronic illness, and how very quickly people you are close to become “too busy” to help when they have to interact with (noncommunicable!) illness, and acknowledge their OWN mortality. 

[sixstepsaway]

so a little bit ago i had an anon who asked for advice on going back to writing after a long time and responded with a thorough if slightly incoherent reply about how i go about my own writing

but i wanted to offer today that i am trying something new

some of you know i was diagnosed with ADHD back in february. i'm pretty sure that when i was 16-19 my ADHD was presenting as mostly hyperactive rather than inattentive and so i used to write a downright ridiculous amount (i wrote 20,000 words in one night once and I did a 170k nanowrimo month) and, yeah

but now it's gone more inattentive and writing has become, to put it mildly, a struggle

i also struggle with finishing things, which is about as fun as it sounds

i started medication a few weeks ago. i'm being titrated through psych UK and what that means is they started me on 20mg of my meds (elvanse, known as vyvanse in the usa) for 7 days, then it goes up to 30mg for a week and then 40mg for a week and then 50mg for a week until 60mg being the top of the planned titration. the idea is you find the top dose you can have that works for you, and you dont go any higher (apparently a too high dose is the same as nothing at all)

the first week was amazing because i suddenly had energy for the first time in literally my entire life (i am getting 16-18 hour days. i am LIVING the life. before i used to get 4-8 hour days and it was awful) and i was sleeping better and it was just. a miracle.

but it didnt really help me write after that first week or so

last week I was on 50mg and my PMS was awful so i was doing terribly then too

and i was getting upset because i couldnt write still

and then a few days ago it clicked why i couldnt write: i was getting stuck on the points of the fic i was writing

so, i might know that "they have sex" is the goal

but i was getting lost in the middle? because i couldnt properly brain how they got from the point they were at to where i wanted them to be, and my brain goes too fast to write 3k words between those points and not get stuck along the way. MY FINGERS ARE ONLY SO FAST!!! SLOWER THAN MY BRAIN!!

so. i'm now doing it like this:

i can include bits of dialogue i want to work in, i can write out the steps they need to take to get where they're going, and then i can follow that to its conclusion by writing those points into proper prose

anyway i hope this helps someone somehow, i've written 1k of bullets so far today lmao okay good day

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 274,

Morning thought: If Cass handles late nights anything like I do, I worry the thing that will give her away is being tired the next morning.  Good thing I impressed on her that she needs to stop sneaking out at night.  Okay, “impressed on her” might be optimistic, but if I can talk James into letting her resume her apprenticeship when classes start next week then she shouldn’t have a reason to.

*******

Just finished talking with James.  Looks like we should be good to go when school starts back up.  To my surprise, James both admitted to the current keeping her at home as being a punishment and to feeling guilty about dragging it on so long.  The subject of whether or not I was a bad influence was avoided.  In that same spirit of burying disagreement and moving on, I’ll refrain from too much of a rant here on my personal opinions of his decisions.

So, good for Cass being able to resume training for an occupation contributing to the Village (although I half suspect that James is low-key hoping she’ll get bored with this and find something else), and good for me for having an assistant again.  I’ve been afraid to admit it, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle a schoolroom full of children again without help.  I mean, sure, the past archivists probably did it just fine, as did teachers in the world of my past life, but I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie by now.

Shifting focus from the future to the past, as I mentioned earlier, Cass did in fact show up last night.  She was pretty proud of the work she’d done with the syllabic breakdown on the cathedral chant, and rightly so.  Sadly, my counterpart “homework” of word length analysis of Iole’s book was not nearly so complete nor thorough for us to run a comparison.  I’ll try to do more of that over the next few days.

That said, it made for a convenient excuse to do a test run of the story for the equinox.  Not that I needed an excuse or justification, but having one makes me feel better.  At any rate, Cass was less disappointed by the change in plans than I feared.  If anything, she seemed eager, although whether that was eager to hear the story or eager to pick it apart for (constructive) criticism I’m not sure.

And there were certainly very fair criticisms to be had.  As I feared, some parts didn’t translate well from written to spoken, particularly the back and forth dialogues between the princess and the sword.  And while that issue in particular might be alleviated by having a secondary teller like Cass and I have experimented with in the past, if James isn’t expecting her to see me again until the Equinox, that doesn’t work out so well.  And then there’s an argument to be made that a single teller doing both parts is more appropriate thematically anyway.  

Of course, there were other issues to be addressed as well.  Structure, pacing, clear conveyance of theme, etc.  We spent what time we had discussing all of it and I’ve got notes in my other notebook for it.  I'll be taking that feedback into account when I do my next test run with Vernon this evening.  Speaking of which, I should probably wrap this up so I can get some actual work done before then.  And maybe tidy up a bit.  He’ll be coming over here and I’ll be the one providing dinner for once.  Not that I have anything to cook with, but most of the food I get in payment for archival services either doesn’t need it or is cooked already.

*******

That went well.  He liked it, which is nice.  Actually had to push a bit to get any criticism (constructive or otherwise) out of him.  I think I’m going to be up for a while longer yet, writing down some more notes on what we talked about (in the work notebook).

<==Previous          Next==>

[nitewrighter]

I love the cinderella short so much, I hope one day it will be a finished story but no worries if that doesn't happened. I love reading your writing! 💖

Well now's as good a time as any to continue it, right? We spent a lot of time with Cindy last chapter, but now that we’ve more or less caught up to the ball, we can jump back to Princey boy’s perspective!

So.

Let’s do this.

---

The foot fetish joke.

You guys won't fucking shut up with the goddamn foot fetish joke.

My boy was out here fighting for his life (figuratively speaking) and you guys are all "hoo hoo he had a foot fetish. I'm so creative and no one has ever suggested this before." Fuck off.

Princey boy is staying up late, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling. He looks like absolute shit in the mornings--I mean the five o' clock shadow is kind of hot but his eyes are hella bloodshot and his skin routine has been thrown COMPLETELY off so he looks rough. The man is HAUNTED because he just met someone and he thinks they're amazing and they seem like one of the kindest, funniest, most genuine people he's ever met, and they laugh at his jokes but my guy cannot remember a single damn identifying thing about them and he is so goddamn worried about their wellbeing. They looked so scared before they took off at midnight and he doesn't know where they are! He doesn’t know if they’re okay! He doesn’t know if they're eating! He’s like, pretty sure they’re not eating because they were putting away a frankly concerning amount of spinach puffs! He doesn't know if they even have a bed! He doesn’t remember if they had bruises (he’d remember if they had bruises, right? What the fuck is wrong with his head?!) He's barely eating, himself! He is SUFFERING and you fucking vultures are sitting pretty over here like “lol he wanted an excuse to touch feet.” Again, fuck off! My boy is going through it! 

YES, all he had was the shoe, but he didn’t start with the shoe because that’s impractical.

Like any proper investigation, you start by asking the entire castle staff what they saw that night at the ball and ya boi has been THOROUGH. Here is what he has learned:

“Yeah I mean I definitely saw shit that night--I mean officially, I’m a footman but for bashes like this? My job ends up being mostly making sure drunker guests quietly get back to their carriages. Oh--a girl? Showed up late to the party? Yeah I remember there was someone I had to give directions to... she looked great. Uh... no, I don’t remember her hair color... or eye color... or her dress... Oh! But she fixed this button on my coat that one guest nearly yanked off! Even sewed a little flower into the holes, isn’t that cute? Who just... carries a sewing kit on them, right? Er--sorry, I know it’s not uniform regulation--Oh it’s okay? Awesome. Wait--you’re taking my coat? But I like this coat--Right. yes. Of course, your highness.”

“A girl wandering the corridors? Um... there was this one incident where one of the lordlings left this massive slosh of wine on the parlor carpet and--look, I’ve only been here a couple months since I got promoted from dishes, and me and three of my girls were trying to scrub it out while all the damn lordlings went on smoking their pipes and chuckling--Oh--not that you’re like that, Your Highness, but anyway I was kind of freaking out because I knew if I called in the head housekeeper it would turn into this whole thing, but then this girl... just kind of... wandered in. I don’t think she really understood the whole concept of ‘Brandy in the parlor is a gentleman’s thing’ but she just leaned over us and went, ‘Oh! Lemon juice!’ And before I could say anything she just hurried out. 5 minutes later she comes back with a lemon and a goblet of water. I ask her where she got the lemon and she said ‘the gardens--is that allowed?’ I didn’t know how to respond to that but get this: The lemon and water worked. But she was gone before I had time to thank her. It’s strange... I don’t remember her features very well... I remember thinking she was very pretty but more so she seemed... kind. A little nervous, but kind.” 

“Oh the catering table? Yeah I was there all night--well you know actually I was running back to the kitchens to make sure shit wasn’t on fire, but yeah, I was more or less there all night. A girl? Oh the perky one! I mean, yeah, I’m used to talking about the food, ‘cuz, y’know allergies and whatnot, but she was... really interested in how to make them. She asked how I kept the breadcrumbs crisp on the stuffed mushrooms--no one appreciates my passion for breadcrumb crispness! The key is using three different bread loafs with a distinct variety of freshness and staleness and- What did she look like? Um... tall? I think? Oh but everyone was wearing heels that night, huh... hm...”

“You’re telling me I had 8 of the pageboys running interference on the rest of the guests so you two could sneak off to the gardens and you didn’t kiss her? Bro! What the hell! I mean--um... Sorry. Your highness. What? What did she look like? Dude, are you insane? She looked awesome. You know how her hair was like... um... uh... Wait. What the shit?”

And Guard Captain Brad has now somehow convinced himself that Mystery Girl is a criminal mastermind even though nothing is missing from the Palace. 

“It’s obvious. She dosed the entire party with some kind of neural agent. That’s why she was hanging out at the buffet table all night and that’s why no one can remember her.”

“Brad, why would she do that if everyone was already distracted with the literal fucking party. Why would she dose everyone when she was eating literally everything!?”

“I don’t know... but she was eating all that stuff to cover her tracks... hell she may have even built up an immunity to poisons. She’s crafty...”

“Brad.”

And through all of the interviews with the staff, Princey boy is stuck with one painful, painful fact staring him right in the face: HE was the one spending the most time with her! He spent more time with her than anyone! He should know more than anyone! AND HE CAN’T FUCKING REMEMBER HER FACE. My boy is being gaslit by the fae and he doesn’t even know it.

But he’s not stupid. He is staring at this shoe, this shoe that is the hope and bane of his existence, and he says, “You know what? There aren’t a lot of glass shoes out there. And this shoe was definitely custom-made. All I need to do is find the person who made the shoe, ask them who they made the shoe for, and I find mystery girl and I get her out of whatever fucked up situation she’s stuck in, and then *cough* *mumble* maybe we get married or something I don’t know I don’t want to pressure her.” *mumble* *cough* So that’s what he does. He is very practical and reasonable and methodical and haha I’m just kidding he calls in literally every glassblower and crystal craftsman in the realm to look at...the shoe.

Which he has had put on its own cushy little velvet pillow on its own fancy little pedestal in the palace reception hall for this occasion. I dunno, it seemed more professional than just yanking the shoe out and saying, “Did you make this shoe?” 

So in come all of the glassblowers and crystal craftsmen from all over the kingdom, and they don’t really know the details, they’re busy guys, they got their own stuff going on, and the Prince gestures at the shoe on the pedestal like, “I must know which of you has crafted this fabulous shoe!”

And like... okay yeah, this is where the foot fetish stuff starts leaking into the story but I swear to god he was mostly doing it as a cover for the whole, “the girl wearing this shoe might be the love of my life but my dad is going to get really fucking weird if something like that gets out so you know what let’s just let everyone assume I’m into... craftsmanship.” And like, the internet is not a thing yet, Quentin Tarantino is not a thing yet, we don’t really have the cultural consciousness to know about Foot Guys™, so it’s generally accepted that, “Okay, this is about craftsmanship. Maybe he wants to commission a glass sculpture or a chandelier or something. Or maybe he wants the windows re-glazed.”

But Glass shoes, as you might imagine, are really not a thing most glass craftsmen would make. I mean, at first there’s a handful of guys who are like “Oh this is about a commission, I’ll just say I made the shoe and then I can land that sweet sweet royal commission.” So they step forward like, “I made the shoe.”

“No, I made the shoe.”

“No, I made the shoe, your highness, don’t let these charlatans fool you.”

And knee-jerk the prince hits all of them with, “Great! Who did you make it for?”

And then there’s this beat of “...oh shit, this isn’t about a commission.” And a significant amount of the glassworkers leave while the dudes who stepped forward are stuck bullshitting like.

“um... a fair maiden?”

“A mysterious fair maiden.”

“Showed up in a an indigo cloak, with only her ruby lips visible beneath the shadow of her hood!”

“...ruby lips doesn’t sound like her...” the prince mumbles.

“Um... blushing lips? And the cloak wasn’t indigo, it was periwinkle.”

“Fucking dumbasses, obviously, she sent her own valet with her measurements.”

The prince just kind of folds his arms like, “You can leave and you won’t get in trouble for claiming to make a shoe you didn’t make.”

And the lying craftsmen are at least smart enough to see their out and they are SHOOP. Outta there. So between them leaving and all the guys who ditched as soon as they realized this wasn’t about a commission, only a handful of glass craftsmen remain. 

“...I don’t suppose any of you made the shoe?” the Prince says, and oh boy you can just feel the despair sinking into his whole frame, but the glass craftsmen just... steadily step forward.

“To be honest, your highness,” says one, stepping ahead of the group with a slight bow, “I didn’t make the shoe. But a glass shoe is such an unusual commission that I just want to see how whoever crafted it did so. I’ll admit it’s a selfish reason, but at least looking at it could improve my craft.”

“I might be able to tell you where it comes from!” another pipes up, “I apprenticed abroad in the east!”

“I apprenticed in the north!” another glassworker calls out.

“I didn’t study abroad, but I’ve always been a little bit of a chemist, myself,” says another, “The way that slipper catches the light... I might be able to tell you about its composition.”

And there’s kind of a murmuring agreement from the glassworkers behind this guy and the Prince is like, “Oh, these guys are the hardcore artisans. It’s not about them, it’s not about me, it’s about the art.” So he kind of scoots to the side and is like, “Well if there’s anything you can tell me about this shoe, anything at all, I would deeply appreciate it.”

And all the glassworkers just briskly step forward and are staring at this shoe. Gesturing at it like, “May I?” and the prince is like, “By all means” and they’re picking up the shoe and poring over it.

And then they’re talking,

And then they’re talking a little more intensely about lead levels, and chemical compounds for this level of opalescence, and then they’re holding the shoe up in sunlight trying to identify what went into it to make the light shine through it so... prismatically.  And then they’re debating about blowing vs. molds  vs. carving.

And then they’re arguing.

And then they’re REALLY arguing and the prince is cutting in like, “Okay you guys are all getting really heated so I’m just gonna put this shoe back on its little pillow--” and all the glassworkers are so caught up in their argument that they barely notice but then ONE glassworker just breaks off from the group, pointing a shaking finger at the shoe that the prince is carefully placing on the pillow and there is fucking fear in his eyes.

“No man made that shoe. No human made that shoe. No creature of god made that shoe,” he has a thick accent and his voice is shaking as much as his hand.

“Come on, man,” says another glassworker, “Surely you don’t really think--”

But the thick-accented glassworker is furiously crossing himself and doing the gesture of the horns at the shoe while anxiously backing out of the room.

“I will have no dealings with that shoe. I am honored by your invitation, your Highness, but I must leave,” and he does.

So everyone in the reception hall is kind of standing around awkwardly.

“The shoe isn’t... that weird, is it?” the Prince says to the other glassworkers, and they kind of mutter amongst themselves for 90 seconds before quietly looking back at him.

They don’t have an answer.

So all princey boy has to find mystery girl is a shoe.

And the shoe is fucking weird.

[scuttle-buttle]

Don't Let Go

Summay: Zemo keeps the holster on.

WC: 2098

Rated: E

Tags: smut, on the rough side, dom!zemo, some dub/con type vibes at certain points (but it is all consensual of course), tall!plus size!reader, body image issues about size, no stated use of protection, uh yeah

A/N: um. Look. Your guess is as good as mine as to where this came from and after me not being able to write for months. I started this in June, got stuck, stopped, forgot i started writing it, randomly was going thru my wips for #nostalgia today, and then this happened. Sad to report no further progress on Heist tho. I’m hoping very soon. Bone app the teeth?

🖤

You remember when you had the conversation. Only a few nights ago on a Friday, barely more than a week since first going on the run with him, you and the Baron drank a few glasses of his expensive scotch at the new safe house, and you had found yourself opening up about fantasies, or lack of.

"Come now, Schatz - there must be something you have been intrigued to."

A simple shrug is what you give. "Maybe a few times…. But it's not something I put much thought into or anything like that." You take a sip, the alcohol rough in its burn.

"Why is that?" he questions without missing a beat.

Meeting his gaze across the couch you see he's been watching you the entire conversation, as though there is nothing that even comes remotely close to being more important than whatever silly ideas you have to share. “I mean I’ve spent my whole life as this bigger, intimidating person. Hell, I’m taller than you, by what an inch and a half? And most people that much, if not more,” you lightly scoff and sip again from your tumbler of scotch. “It wasn't something feasible being bigger I guess-” you gesture to your torso “-so I dropped the ideas before it could really set in as something I wanted. I told you - I'm always on my own and having to do my own thing. Had to get a grip on my life and be an independent woman and all that," you chuckle.

Zemo had been more than thorough in acquainting you with the basics of intimacy the last week; yet he let you take the lead as much as possible. Almost entirely, truly. You weren't at the point of anything wild or experimental, nor were you brave enough to try going rogue. So it was easy, it was standard - not that you had any complaints. But Helmut was adamant that it was you who controlled how he kissed you, how he touched you, how he broke your body and soul piece by piece in the long hours of the night.

You look across the room into the flickering light of the fireplace. Quieter, you add "just once I’d like to feel like the small one in a situation, to have to look up to someone literally and figuratively, to not feel like I’m too big and to just be able to let someone else make the choice for me." Looking back at him and speaking a little more blase, you finish "but I don't know. That's about as far as I got."

“I like looking up at you, Schatz, it’s like looking at an angel,” Helmut whispers. Since you had unofficially gotten together after escaping Riga he was constantly praising and complimenting you. You always expected to feel like he was just flattering you, but he made it such a point to talk about your intelligence, kindness, generosity, humor, and how beautiful he found you in equal parts.

You don't bother fighting back your grin. “I’m sure you do, Baron.” Downing the rest of your drink you tell him you are tired and head off to bed with a kiss.

Helmut had business to attend into the late evening. You made yourself busy reading some old book from the safe house’s upstairs library. The sun set as you read. Oranges and pinks and purples cast the room in a peaceful glow as you engulfed yourself in tales of times gone by. Maybe three hours later you hear him call out for you, breaking you from your page; “Schatz, could you come down here?”

Excitement bubbles within you at his arrival. “Be down in a sec!” You closed the book and placed it on the desk. Wandering around in the darkness you think you hear him in the kitchen. You call out “Helmut are you-” as you reach for the light switch when a shadowy figure backs you into a wall, knocking the breath you had from your lungs. For a second you panic, heart beating wildly out of your chest, until you see a glint of that familiar chocolate in the shadow’s eyes. The white-knuckled grip you have on the fabric of his top relaxes.

Pressed up against the kitchen wall by the man, you can just make out that he's clad in his gear. A thick burgundy turtleneck covers the expanse of his broad chest, the leather straps of a holster secured around his shoulders. Sturdy combat boots brush the sides of your ankles from where he has trapped your legs between his. The shoes give him an extra inch compared to your barefoot state, in addition to the commanding way he carries himself at present. Even as his gaze is eye level with your own like this he looks as if he towers above you.

Searching his eyes as best as you can in the limited light, you attempt “Hel what-”

A calloused palm cups the skin of your cheek, his thumb pressing softly against your mouth and silencing you. He says nothing; you wait, swallowing in anticipation. The digit glides slowly along the seam of your lips before pushing slightly between. You don't mind the intrusion, instead finding the taste of his skin intoxicating as you run the tip of your tongue over him. Pupils flit from your own to where his thumb rests. Zemo sighs. Feeling the fire within your core ignite you decide to take initiative, giving a gentle nip before sucking delicately on the pad of his thumb.

There is no mistaking the way his eyes blacken. The softness in his tone doesn’t match the formidability of his presence as he whispers “My Leibling…”

Zemo’s body presses yours further into the wall with such force it tears a gasp from you; his lips and tongue ravage yours with such a ferocity unlike anything you’ve known. Hands clutch at your jaw like vices. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps his fingertips might leave bruises. Nevertheless, you can’t be damned to stop him, especially not when you feel the beginnings of his hardening cock pushing into your hip, or the wetness seeping between your legs.

Finally, when the burn in your lungs becomes too great he breaks away and instead attaches his mouth to your throat. You have no doubt he can feel the pounding of your heart where he sucks and bites at your flesh. The Baron slides a hand under the edge of your top. His fingers are hot where they dig into your soft side. A feeble attempt to maneuver your hands to remove your shirt results in a tsk from him, his own larger ones moving to rip the fabric of your nightshirt right down the middle and exposing your peaked breasts to the cool air and his hungry stare. “Fuck - Helmut, what’s- ugh-” a particularly hard pinch to your nipple breaks your concentration, “what’s gotten in to you?” The question comes out as a moan.

Instead of an answer he tugs at the waistband of your shorts. With your reassuring nod he pushes them over your wide hips and thick thighs. Not a minute later he’s pulled a leg to wrap around his hip and opens you up to the grind of his still-clothed cock. “Don’t think, Leibling, just feel,” he commands.

The material of his pants rubs a delicious friction; your juices soaking through the fabric. You can feel the inferno growing. Breathy moans fill the near-silent kitchen. “Mein Gott, Draga I can feel how wet you are. Does this excite you? To know that you are enough to drive the great Baron Zemo to such primal need? To such depravity as to not even give you the luxury of a bed, but instead to have you right here and at my mercy?” He punctuates his statement with a harsh roll of his hips.

You whine in need. The pressure between your hips grows, you need him more than you can bear to think. Quickly you move to undo the fastening of his trousers between you. He does not stop you, only slows his movements to make it easier for you to work. When his bared cock finally rubs along your soaked core you manage to whimper a pathetic please. Helmut’s grip on your leg around his hip remains firm. He uses his free arm to place each of your hands on the straps of his holster along his pectorals. You pull on the leather as if to test its strength. There is barely enough room for your wrists between you where your chests are crushed together.

Suddenly Zemo drops as he leans to wrap his free hand underneath the leg that still supports your weight; his brute strength lifts you completely before you realize what he’s doing. “Wait no- Helmut I’m too-”

“No.” Zemo snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.

“Oh my god.” You sound pathetic as you keen at the fullness within you.

Both of his hands support you under the soft curve of your upper thighs. You tighten your legs around the small of his back on instinct. Panic surges through you despite the wonderful feel of him inside you. You aren’t small, you weigh too much, you’ll hurt him.

He jerks his shoulders minutely to bring your attention to where your fingers are wrapped around his holster straps. “Do not let go, Draga. Do you understand?”

“But-”

“Do you understand, Leibling?” he asks again, this time more demanding than you’ve ever heard.

“Yes.”

The first slam of his cock is fierce. It is precise. It is beyond any sort of pleasure you’ve ever felt, to have this man fucking you within an inch of your life as he all but cradles your body within the palm of his hand like it was your destiny to be there. Through all your sobs and cries of ecstasy he does not let up on the onslaught. Each thrust hits deep within you. His hips angle to brush your bundle of nerves with every movement. The peaks of your breasts tease and graze his sweater; probably an unfair advantage for him to be clothed and yet you at his complete mercy. You can’t fault how the sensation only heightens your euphoria. This time you know for sure his fingertips will paint your thighs with their memory for days to come; will create a masterpiece along the expanse of your skin that no Van Gogh or Picasso or Da Vinci could ever hope to produce.

Your release comes all too quickly at his attentions. Helmut doesn’t let up, nor does he seem to even break a sweat at his herculean task. At one point you swear you feel the leather straps start to give under the chokehold of your fists as he orders you to come again along his shaft, his words leaving no room for you to think otherwise.

Helmut reaches his own peak as your channel tightens around him, the growl of your name against your temple like a bolt of electricity. Hips slowing to a gentle roll, he does not pull himself from you, instead adjusting his hold under you to keep you pinned between his body and the wall. Your forehead comes to rest on his shoulder. The Baron drops sweet kisses to your temple, to your cheek, as you both come down from your high.

“Mmmm…Maybe you should put me down now? My legs are sore,” you mumble into his sweater, flexing your thigh and calf muscles where they still circle his waist.

“And if I do not want to? What then, my Leibling?” At your answering groan he hums in contentment before slowly removing himself from you, moving from the wall, and carrying you to the loveseat in the next room. Oversized boots thump with each step. The loose pants hanging from his knees slow his walk to a shuffle. He sits, situating you in his lap. Zemo looks down to see your fingers still wrapped around the holster. With a smile he says “you may let go now, Schatz. You did so well for me, such a good girl.”

It takes your digits a moment to cooperate as you untangle them from their place. “I’m not sure I can move my hands…?”

Helmut chuckles at your admission, taking your hands in each of his. He brings them to hip lips and places delicate kisses on them. Carefully he begins to massage your fingers and palms; “well, we must see to that, shouldn't we?”

(I'll be honest idk who is on my tag list for zemo since I haven't written for him in like 9 months sorrry)

Tag list: @ay0nha @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @dragon-baron @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @lorna-d-m @hardlyinteresting @marchingicenotes7 @earlgreysandcloudydays

[rin-itoshi]

kisses . genshin impact (pt. 1)

> summary: places the genshin boys kiss you other than the lips (ft. albedo, childe, diluc, kaeya)

> content: fluff , gn!reader

# ALBEDO

where: your cheek!

why: he isn’t a man with a lot of time to spare so when he has the chance, he’ll give you a short peck on the cheek before resuming his work.

“Albedo,” you call softly as you peer into the tent he was situated under, noticing how messy the small camp had gotten in the last twenty-four hours you were gone. A soft smile graced your lips when you spotted the ash blond male doing what he loved the most: researching. It was lovely to see, but if only he’d put that much dedication into your relationship, it’d be a dream. “I’m going to head home for the night. You coming or are you going to stay here for a bit longer?”

The alchemist turned away from his research, approaching you with his dirtied hands away from your body.

“There is much research left to be looked over and I am the only one who can conduct the thorough investigation. I’ll join you at home when I run into a wall in work. Be careful on your way back.” Despite the somewhat hurried tone he used, his words were soft, brimming with love when he reached that last sentence. His life had become significantly easier after gaining a lover who respected his research enough to allow him to do his own things without burdening him by demanding things from the male who had a limited amount of time on his hands. The fact that it was you made it 500x better for him.

Rubbing your lips against one another, you hummed softly and nodded. “M’kay, but don’t work too hard. I’ll make you something small to eat when you get back. I love you.”

The male pursed just lips, leaning towards your face. He pressed his lips against your cheek, pecking the warm skin before pulling away and turning towards his desk. “I love you, too.”

# CHILDE

where: your neck!

why: he’s a unpredictable guy that likes to do anything and everything to surprise/fluster you. he might also want to leave a mark but won’t.

Childe sucked the inside of his cheek as he stared at you packing up your things. He was quietly sulking after you had reminded him that he had a job to be at and that you’d go back to completing your commission while he was gone.

You weren’t wrong about him having to leave, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ticked off by it. Your time together was limited considering he was working full time for the Fatui and he couldn’t spend all his time dawdling with the lover he had found along the way.

He wanted to spend more time with you, get closer to you, be with you so much that you’d get tired of him instead of constantly seeking his presence. Unfortunately, for now, that was impossible for the eleventh harbinger.

“Come on, sir. Time’s a ticking.” You called out teasingly, walking around the table to stand beside him. The male turned in his seat, facing you with his eyes on you. “Do I have to leave first?”

“No, I’ll go first,” he declared as he grabbed your hands, fiddling with your fingers aimlessly. Pulling you down with minimal force, he pressed a kiss on the side of your neck with a small smack sound. He pulled back, standing up and grinning when he saw your flushed cheeks. “See you later, [y/n].”

“Bye, Ajax. Take care.”

# DILUC

where: the top of your head!

why: he takes pride in his height and loves when he can pull you in for a hug to place a kiss on the top of your head softly.

“You’re cleaning?” Diluc’s voice echoed throughout the Dawn Winery as he descended the wooden stairs that creaked ever so slightly. His eyes were dark with sleepiness, seeing as it was almost midnight and he had just finished showering after coming home late.

You flashed an easy smile. “I figured it’d make it easier on the girls if I helped out a little bit.” You said, dropping the cloth in your hand on the table and approaching the tired red head who approached you.

“It’s their job, they get paid to do that. You worked enough today.” Diluc says. He inhales slowly, basking in your familiar scent before exhaling deeply. “Come to bed.”

“Okay,” you murmur, feeling giddy at the sudden affection your boyfriend showed you in his tired state.

Diluc craned his neck, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “You work too hard. Rest, please.” His words were husky but you could tell he was being genuine and cared for you. It was amazing how easy he would let down his guard around you.

“No, you work too hard. But we can both rest together.” You say, grabbing him by the hand and leading him upstairs. Diluc follows behind tiredly, mumbling something about him working hard all for you, and it didn’t go unheard.

Lots of kisses for Diluc tonight.

# KAEYA

where: your nose!

why: he thinks it’s such a cute feature you have. he likes how you sometimes shy away from his kiss there because it tickles.

The Calvary Captain crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you make conversation with one of the Knights of Favonius that had happened to pass by while you were in the city. His eyes grew curious when you smiled brightly, flushing at something the man had said to you.

A thousand ideas flew through his mind but instead of jumping to conclusions, his body moved forward to approach you.

When the two had spotted you coming there way, you smiled with a hint of confusion in your expression. It wasn’t even break yet, so you were confused as to how Kaeya was here when he was supposed to be at work. The Knight greeted him respectfully, making Kaeya feel somewhat superior.

“Hey,” he greeted, grabbing your hands that were outstretched to pulling you in. He pecked your nose, smirking when you grew flustered to be kissed in front of one of your fellow Knights. It didn’t help that Kaeya wrapped an arm around you and started talking, completely ignoring the guy who was beginning to turn away.

“You’re so freakin’ rude.” You whisper-shouted as soon as the guy walked away knowing that it was probably his cue to leave. You were joking when saying that, but it didn’t mean that Kaeya was any less rude.

“Mine.” He stated, nuzzling his cheek into your hair.

You sighed. He was going to be the death of you one day.

a/n: i was gonna do xiao, xingqiu and zhongli but i’ll probs just write it later aaaaa

[emmyhem]

it’s about time (l.r.h)

a/n: hi again! first of all i want to say thank you for the support on “seven things” it means the world. secondly, my requests are open and i’d be happy to write something for you. this is a jealous bff!luke imagine i wanted to get up this weekend, i didn’t do a very thorough edit before posting so hopefully there aren’t any typos. i am working on the request for a lashton x reader love triangle piece right now and will hopefully have it up by monday or tuesday. thank you, i hope you enjoy - emmy :) 

pairing: luke hemmings x reader 

summary: being best friends with the guy you’re in love with is extremely taxing especially when you have to watch him be with another girl all night. just when you’ve finally had enough of waiting around for him he ruins your plans for moving on. 

warnings: alcohol, using alcohol as a coping mechanism, slight angst, jealous luke, mentions of throwing up, cursing, luke’s a bit of an asshole. 

word count: 3.3k

“God, could they get a room?” you scoffed leaning into Calum as you watched your best friend practically eat his date’s face from across the club. 

“Jealous are we y/n?” Calum laughed slinging an arm over your shoulder. 

“No, just utterly disgusted.” you said before slamming back your fourth shot of tequila.

 That was a lie, you were jealous. You were so insanely jealous that you could scream. 

Luke had met his date, Hannah at the studio last week. She was new, working at the front desk. She had caught Luke’s eye the second she walked in the room with a bright confident smile, and a flirty look in her eye. Luke had asked her out the next day and was practically giddy when she accepted. 

And that’s how they ended up in the corner of the club, Luke’s hands tangled in her hair, and her tongue down his throat. All the while you were trying to not look bitter, and distracting yourself with one too many drinks. 

It wasn’t a new routine. You couldn’t count how many times you’ve had to sit back and watch a girl way prettier than you, be in the exact position that you would quite literally die to be in, with your best friend of 4 years. And somehow it seemed to hurt more each time, which meant more drinks for you. 

As you felt the familiar and comforting burn of your fifth shot of the night slide down your throat Calum shot you a knowing look. 

“Maybe you should slow down there, kid.” 

You rolled your eyes and took his Corona from his hands using it as a chaser. 

“Corona girl?” you heard from behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet a pretty pair of green ones (you still preferred Luke’s blue, but what the hell). 

“Tequila girl.” you clarified. 

“Respect.” the man said, extending a strong tattooed hand. “I’m Austin.” 

“Y/n” you said, shaking his hand. You glanced over your shoulder at Calum who was now engaged in a conversation with Mikey and Ashton beside you. 

“Pretty name, pretty girl.” he smirked. “So, can I get you a tequila?” 

You giggled, happy for a distraction from Luke.

“You can get me a margarita, on the rocks.” 

“Deal.” 

The two of you chatted as you sipped on your drink, mind getting hazier with each sip. And you don’t know if it was the alcohol or your determination to get Luke off your mind but Austin was really, really hot. 

“Do you wanna dance with me?” you asked before you had a chance to convince yourself otherwise. You were never really a dance in public kind of girl, normally the closest you got to showing your moves on the dancefloor was Just Dance in Luke’s living room. 

“Absolutely.” Austin replied, sliding an arm around your waist to lead you to the dancefloor. 

The bass beat shook the floor as the two of you made your way to the middle of the club. As you stopped you realized you had absolutely no idea what to do. You never did stuff like this. You can’t even remember the last time you went on a date, let alone danced to sleazy house music with a stunning stranger. You glanced around you hoping to follow the lead of the more experienced dancers around you.

 A redhead to your right swung her hips, inching closer to her partner's body with each movement until she was pressed directly to his chest. 

“Seems like a good place to start” you mumbled to yourself. 

The second your hips were in movement Austin’s hands gripped them strongly guiding your movements closer and closer to him. As the beat built and your movements slowed to a teasingly slow pace his grip tightened causing your tight white dress to bunch up on your thighs. 

With the alcohol in your bloodstream and Austin’s breath on the back of your neck you nearly forgot about Luke and your perpetual sadness, that is until you locked eyes with him from across the room. 

Hannah was tucked under his arm sipping on her drink, but his gaze was locked on you, he had an unrecognizable look on his face, and a jaw clenched so hard you feared he would break his teeth. 

You took him staring as the perfect opportunity to spin around, inches away from Austin’s face looking up at him through your lashes. His pupils were blown a bit, eyes filled with lust. He was practically breathing into your mouth. You will yourself to just kiss him. It’s not like you were Luke’s girl you thought, so you started to lean in. 

As Austin placed his hand on the back of your neck you felt someone grab your arm tugging you out of Austin’s grip. 

“Y/n”  Luke appeared next to you.

“Is there a problem man?” Austin said grabbing one of your hands. 

Luke rolled his eyes with a sly grin on his face, “Cal wants to talk to you.” he said to you not breaking eye contact with the pissed off guy in front of you. 

“I’m a bit busy.” you said annoyance brewing in you as you ripped your arm out of Luke’s hand. “Can it wait?” 

“Nope, said it was important.” he said nonchalantly “Better go find him.” 

You internally groaned, “I’ll be right back.” you said leaning in to peck Austin’s cheek. 

“Y/n, C’mon!” Luke shouted over the music. 

“Fine!” you groaned leaving Luke and Austin behind you as you scanned the bar for Calum. 

After searching for a few minutes you saw him in a booth with Ashton, and Michael talking and laughing. 

“Calum,” you called. He glanced up at you waving a hand above his hand. You slid into the booth next to him, your patience growing thin. 

“What is it?” you said. 

“What?” he said, confusion spreading across his face. 

“Luke said you needed to talk to me, what’s up?” 

Calum’s eyebrows tugged together glancing at the other guys. 

“I haven’t talked to Luke since we got here.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned to the corner across the room where Luke had Hannah pressed up against the wall. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you said out loud, rubbing your temple in frustration. 

Ashton gave you a sympathetic smile and glanced at Michael who was practically sleeping on Cal’s shoulder. 

“Maybe we should head out.” he said motioning to the drunk mess that was the three of you. 

“No” Calum whined, dragging out the oh sound. “y/n was about to get some.” he teased poking your side. 

“Just take him home, y/n/n.” Michael groaned, not even opening his eyes. 

You pondered the idea, you never did stuff like this. But Austin was hot, and Luke was preoccupied. To say the least.

“I could take him home.” you say aloud trying to convince yourself. 

“Then do it.” Calum challenged. 

“I will.” you stated proudly. “You guys get Luke. Ash, you get the uber, and Austin and I will meet you at the door. “ you gave a quick nod to the boys and went to get Austin. 

Austin stood exactly where you left him on the dance floor. 

“Thank god you’re back. I-“ 

Before he had a chance to finish, you crashed your lips onto his. He quickly fell into the kiss moving his hand to the small of you back. Before it went any further you pulled apart about an inch, and spoke into his mouth, 

“Come back to my apartment?” 

“Absolutely.” he said an excited smile growing on his face.

When the two of you made it to where your group was struggling to stand by the door Luke pulled apart from Hannah, looking Austin up and down. His eyes stopping where your hands were interlocked. 

“Love, a word?” he slurred, nodding his head away from the group. 

You walked with him just outside the door. 

“What’s up?” 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean with this guy, what are you doing with him?” 

“Um, taking him home with me?” you said confused. 

“You can’t do that.” 

“Who says?” anger began building as you looked up at him. 

“Uh, me I guess. You know nothing about him.” 

This caused you to scoff, a laugh passing your lips, “And you do a background check on every girl you take home with you?” 

“That’s different,” he alleged. 

“And how’s that?” your patience was growing thin, and you could feel this conversation sobering you up. 

“I don’t know y/n, you're just not one night stand material.” 

Okay, ouch. Tears began to prick at your waterline. 

“Go to hell.” you breathed, pushing past him. 

“No, y/n/n. You know that’s not what I meant. C’mon love, hey I’m sorry.” he called after you. 

As you approached the group, holding back tears, you took a glance at Austin in front of you and realized that no matter how hot he was you really didn’t even want this. How could you when you were head over heels in love with your asshole of a best friend.

 But it was too late now, you would do it. Even if it was wrong. Even if you didn’t want to. Even if it was just to spite Luke. 

“Ready to head out?” you questioned aloud, swallowing your hurt. 

“Yep, uber just got here.” Ashton confirmed, guiding a hammered Calum and Michael out the door. 

You all climbed into the Uber X Ashton had ordered, Luke, Hannah, and Calum in the back, Ashton in the passenger seat, and Michael, Austin, and you in the middle. 

As you pulled away from the club, Ashton spoke over the light music coming from the car radio and gave the driver Luke’s address. The group had made plans to all spend the night at Luke’s, like you typically did after a night out. 

“We have one more stop actually” you choked out, feeling Austin lean into you, lips attaching to your neck. 

You gave the man your address and turned your attention back to the sexually charged man glued to your side. As he moved his kisses up to your jaw you closed your eyes, in order to prevent yourself from breaking down. The constant reminder that Luke had no interest in you, being thrown in your face as Hannah released soft sighs behind you. 

Ashton glanced back at you from the front seat, 

“You feeling okay, kid?” he asked. 

You nodded gulping, and looked up at the ceiling to deter your threatening tears. 

His eyes narrowed in concern as he adjusted his body in his seat so he was looking you in the eyes. Luke turned his attention away from Hannah (much to her despair) to the front of the car as Ashton spoke.

“Y/n, you sure? Maybe you and your friend should continue this another night.” Ashton suggested, noticing how you had tensed up and your expression had faltered since entering the car.

 Austin pulled off of you and shot him a frustrated glare from his seat. Ashton raised his eyebrows in response, silently challenging Austin to confront him. 

Austin moved in centimeters from your ear, “Your friends are kind of cockblocks.” he complained. 

You tilted your head away from him and looked out the window Michael was sitting next to.

“Maybe they’re right.” you muttered. “Maybe you should just go home, and we can do this some other time. I’m not feeling well.” 

You kept your gaze directed outside of the car, too afraid to see his reaction to your sudden rejection. 

“Your kidding right?” he scoffed. 

You were becoming more anxious by the second as he rambled on about how you must be joking. 

“I’m not laughing.” Luke interrupted flatly.  

“Okay, what’s your deal man?” Austin’s demeanor had quickly changed as he turned to face Luke, aggression clear in his face. 

Luke held his hands in the air before resting them on the back of your seat. “No deal, she’s just clearly not interested, so maybe you could give her some space.” 

Calum and Michael perked up in their seats as the mood in the car shifted. In the front Ashton was talking to the driver, explaining how you would be getting dropped off with the rest of them. 

Austin was in a confrontational mood now, one that made you uneasy. He and Luke continued to bicker back and forth. Hannah sat confused and aggravated next to Luke.

 You were seconds away from crumbling, feeling extremely upset and overwhelmed. Michael placed a hand on your shoulder, hoping to ease some of your distress as you pulled into Luke’s driveway. 

Everyone got out of the car, leaving Austin stirring in his own anger. Ashton patted the top of the car twice before it drove away.

“Well, y/n you sure know how to pick em’” Luke commented. 

Calum shot him a disapproving look as you shoved past, running inside. 

You had officially reached your breaking point. You couldn’t have Luke but you were in too deep to be with anyone else. Not to mention the fact that Luke seemed to be taking pleasure in your misfortune for the night. 

You went straight for the bathroom. All the alcohol and confrontation hadn’t been kind to your stomach. 

You hunched over the toilet and began throwing up before you even got the chance to close the door all the way. Your eyes were red and stinging from your tears and your throat was stripped raw. Hugging your knees to your chest you sat with your back against the sink. 

Three soft knocks came from the cracked door and you peered up through cloudy eyes to see Ashton looking at you with pity clear on his face. 

“Can I come in?” 

You nodded into your knees, staring down at the familiar tiles of Luke’s bathroom. 

You couldn’t count how many times you had been in this exact spot. Whether it be dealing with the consequences of your unhealthy coping mechanism after a night out like you were now. Early mornings after sleeping over, sitting in the steam while Luke showered because he just couldn’t wait to tell you a story, or late nights he would convince you to paint his nails. All of it was replaying in your head. 

“Why can’t he just love me the way I love him?” you whimpered as a sob broke from your throat. 

Ashton was quick to wrap his arms around you, taking a seat on the floor. 

“It’s okay, y/n.” he shushed. “You’re okay. 

“I love him, Ash” your voice muffled from being pressed to his shoulder. 

“I know.” he comforted you, rocking your frame lightly. You sat in silence for a bit, trying to control your breathing. 

By the time you left the bathroom Calum and Michael were asleep on the couch and Luke and Hannah had gone to Luke’s room. Ashton laid on the couch with the other guys and you made your way to the guest room, falling asleep the second your head hit the pillow.   

You woke up early with a throbbing headache and an insatiable craving for iced coffee. There was no doubt in your mind that you were first one awake, the guys wouldn’t be up for hours. You tiptoed through the living room past a sleeping Michael, Calum, and Ashton being careful not to wake them. As you turned the corner to leave you heard a voice from the kitchen, 

“Morning,” Luke called, his gravelly voice making it very clear he had just woken up. He was leaning on the cabinet in a pair of sweats, a cup of coffee in hand. 

“Oh, you’re up.” you responded still moving towards the door. 

“Going somewhere?” he questioned walking towards you. 

“Yea I gotta go, I have uh…” your mind was drawing a blank. “ya know,  laundry.” 

“Wait,” he sprung forward in two big steps grabbing your shoulder. “as urgent as that sounds, I wanna talk.”

“‘bout what?” 

“I feel like I should apologize for last night.” 

“It’s okay, we can talk about it later. I really gotta get going.” 

“Y/n! Will you let me say sorry, please?” he pleaded 

“You have.” you replied nodding at him before turning away once again. 

“Fine, then can I ask why you tried to take someone home last night. You never do that.” 

“No reason.” you lied, opening the front door. 

“Really? Cause Cal said something last night about you being jealous or something and then I went to check on you and I overheard-” 

“I gotta go.” you panicked, taking a step outside. 

Right before the door swung closed and you made your escape Luke stopped it with his hand and spoke, 

“Are you in love with me?” 

You froze where you stood, squeezing your eyes shut completely mortified. 

Slowly, you spun back around to face Luke. He stepped out of the door frame allowing you reentrance and led you to the kitchen. Once you had both sat down he spoke again, 

“So is it true? What you told Ashton last night, is it true?” 

You placed your hands over your eyes and shook your head.

“Does it matter?” you responded. 

“Of course it matters, what do you mean?” 

“I mean you have Hannah and it doesn’t matter how I fe-” 

“Hannah’s gone.” he interrupted. 

“Gone?” 

“It wasn’t gonna work out with us. I ended things last night.” 

“Why would you end things with-” you paused, eyes narrowing.

Luke looked down, suddenly not wanting to meet your eyes. 

“Do you...you love me?” 

At this Luke shot up from his seat and started pacing around the kitchen.

“Well, of course I do. But I asked you first, and you can’t just..” he rambled on but you stopped listening after “of course I do” 

“Lu,” you said, standing up

He continued talking, not even hearing you over his own nervous talking and fidgeting. 

“Lu.” you called a bit louder. 

He turned to you, stopping mid sentence his mouth still hanging open. 

“I am.” 

“You…” he spoke slowly, eyes frozen on you.

“I am in love with you.” 

Both of you were frozen in place, terrified that if you moved you may wake up and discover this was all just a dream. You stayed like that for about a minute till you broke the silence. 

“I have been, for a couple years now. And I never told you, cause I always thought that-” you were cut off by Luke’s lips. 

He had one hand on the back of your neck and the other pulling you closer by the waist. You melted into the kiss pressing a hand to his chest. It may sound cliche but you swore you were seeing fireworks as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip.  

“I love you.” he sighed as you pulled apart. “I am so in love with you, fuck I can’t believe-” Before he had a chance to ramble again you pulled him back in for another kiss. 

After a few minutes you broke away to catch your breath. Luke moved his hands to cup both your cheeks, 

“Hi.” he cooed. 

“Hi” you smiled. “I need coffee” you turned away walking towards the kitchen.

“Hey no wait” he whined pulling you back by the waist. “m’not done kissing you.”

“We have plenty of time for that, but I need coffee now.” you teased pressing a swift kiss to his lips. 

“Mmm, I know but we’ve got a lot of catching up to do” he said chasing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as you walked to the coffee machine. 

As you fixed yourself a coffee, Luke's chin resting on the top of your head, you heard shuffling from the living room. When you looked up Michael was walking in with messy hair and eyes puffy from sleep. He glanced at you in Luke’s arms, his expression unchanging and mumbled while pulling orange juice from the fridge, 

“It’s about time.” 

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 5 - zuko x fem!reader

I can go anywhere I want, I can go anywhere just not home

part 4 | masterlist | part 6

a/n: this was hard to get going but once i got to the end the words just flowed. ive come to the conclusion that writing dialogue with katara is my favorite thing to do

warning(s): nightmare at the beginning, survivor's guilt from y/n, some internalized homophobia :-( but aside from that its mostly fluff

wc: 3.6k

chapter title comes from my tears ricochet by taylor swift!

She was trapped.

It was a prison of never ending hallways in some kind of infinite void, complete with the rank stench of death and an innate feeling of hopelessness.

Y/N knew this place. It had been the subject of her nightmares on countless occasions, because it was where she was supposed to be. She had no choice but to start down the pathway of cracked stone — she knew what awaited her, but it was the only way out. She had developed some sick sense of awareness in this nightmare and it didn’t do her any favors.

She began to walk hastily down the path, the itch of paranoia already plaguing the back of her mind. Countless times she had been here, and yet it never got better.

Before Y/N knew it, she had reached her unwanted destination. The first tangible thing in what felt like miles was a prison cell, and she pushed forward despite knowing what awaited her. It was the only way.

“It wasn’t the only way.”

She froze, inhaling sharply as the dreamscape seemed to pull her thoughts out of her mind, and she forced herself to take another step closer, the inhabitant of the cell now visible.

“You did this to me.”

It was her mother, but… not quite her. Her voice strained and stiff, a gaunt appearance with cruel eyes, hunched over in a prison cell. Any sign of the woman Y/N knew her as was gone, and it was her fault. She was the reason Kura was gone — a mother’s ultimate sacrifice because her daughter was too stuck in her head.

“How could you do this to me?” she asked. “How could you be so selfish?”

Y/N tried to respond, but she couldn’t. It was no use anyway — her words would’ve come out in broken, pleading rambles to someone who couldn’t hear a thing. She knew it was fake, she knew this was a nightmare, but it still hurt all the same.

She had imagined her mother saying those words to her so many times they had found their way into her nightmares despite knowing that Kura would never utter a single syllable true to her fears. She had all but killed her mother, and instead of remembering her for what she had done for Y/N, she appeared in her nightmares.

She was a horrible daughter.

She heard footsteps and whirled around, instinctively taking a step back and wincing as her back slammed into the bars. A tall, dark figure creeped towards her and her breath caught in her throat — as it came into the light, she recognized him as the Fire Lord.

He chuckled coldly as he neared ever closer, the path he walked turning to flames behind him. Her eyes darted around for an escape only to find that everything was on fire. It was suffocating, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and when she turned to look for her mother she was gone. Everything was gone, her dark void now a prison of flames.

She turned around once more and Ozai was right in front of her, the fire in his hands glowing red hot and a cruel smile on his lips.

“Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

-

She shot up in her bed, a scream on the edge of her lips but just barely managing to hold it back. Ragged breaths were ripped from her chest, her eyes shooting around wildly as she attempted to find anything at all to ground her. It took a few minutes, but with repeated mantras of it was just a dream and you are safe, she was able to calm down.

She pulled her knees to her chest and exhaled long and deep before pulling herself out of bed. It seemed that her day was going to be starting much earlier than planned.

Four years had passed since her arrival at the Northern Water Tribe, but the nightmares never ceased. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she had done the right thing, that it was what her mother wanted, that if she stayed she would’ve died — she was constantly haunted by her past actions and memories of the Fire Nation.

She hasn’t taken off the necklace since her mother gave it to her, no matter what she does. It’s almost become a part of her now — a memory of Kura and her selflessness that knew no bounds, as well as a grim reminder of what it cost to get her here.

The Northern Water Tribe itself held countless memories of her mother — after all, it was where she had spent the first eighteen years of her life. Her name was well known throughout the tribe with nobles and elders alike, and it amazed Y/N to no end the impact that her mother left everywhere she went. She loved hearing stories about her mother and what she was like as a child, but it was always bittersweet.

She always carried an inherent sense of guilt with her because of who she lived with — her mother hadn’t been lying when she said that the necklace would get them to help her. Kura’s parents still lived in the tribe, and they had taken Y/N in after she revealed who she was. They loved her unconditionally and never made her feel like a burden, but Y/N would be lying to herself if she didn’t think they blamed her for the fate that befell her mother.

After all, she did.

She had never told anyone the full story of why she ran though. It was one thing to leave her mother behind for certain death because of the Fire Lord’s rage, it was another thing to admit that it was wholly her fault because she had fallen for a prince.

Zuko.

Not a day went by where she didn’t think of him. She still held the hope that she would see him again someday, but in lieu of travel she turned to letters.

Y/N had a shelf full of unmailed letters addressed to both Zuko and her mother — it was a way to get out her emotions whenever she was feeling particularly homesick or hopeless, and it did help at first, but after four years it had become something born out of habit rather than necessity.

She still wrote them though — Y/N had learned to hold onto any form of hope she could muster up, no matter how small, and in this moment she needed some.

She opened her shelf and rifled through piles upon piles of letters, some finished, some hardly started, and some crumpled from fits of rage, and her breath caught in her throat when her fingers brushed something different. Y/N pulled the material out and nearly started crying right then and there.

It was an unbelievably simple patch of fabric, but it meant the world to her — something that she had bought during her last night with Zuko, and one of the only pieces of material to have survived her journey to the Northern Water Tribe. She was forced to sell the rest of the fabric she had brought with her in order to make some easy money while on the run, but she had kept this as a memento. She could almost be brought back to the final sunset they shared if she looked at it for long enough.

Y/N bit down hard on her lip to stop the tears and shoved it back into the drawer before closing it and leaving her room in a haste. Sometimes she wasn’t strong enough to handle the memories.

She made her way to the living room and let out a sigh of relief when she noticed the silence. Y/N had never told her grandparents about the nightmares, and right now she just needed some time to herself. Never before was she so thankful for her grandmother’s gossiping nature and her grandfather’s work than she was in the mornings where she just wanted to be alone.

She sat down on the floor, not even bothering to get a cushion, and stared at her hands. Once smooth and untouched by the world, they were now rough and calloused with wrapped bandages resting just below her wrist. Permanent memories of what it took to get here. The ever present reminder that nothing came without a cost.

This morning seemed to be one full of yearning for the past. Y/N tried to shake her feelings off and got up once more, contemplating some steamed sea prunes before deeming it fruitless. Her appetite was lacking after her trip down memory lane.

She walked back to her room and got dressed hastily then ran out the door, but not before plucking a gift from her shelf. Today marked the birthday of a certain princess, and Y/N had to go fast if she was going to get it to her before class.

She was immediately hit by the frigid air of the North, pulling her anorak tighter around her frame as she began to run to the canals — one could always find Princess Yue there in the mornings — doing her best to avoid anyone else walking.

Y/N saw Yue just about to board one of the boats and sped up, waving one of her arms as a signal. “Yue, wait!”

She turned and her face immediately brightened up at the sight of Y/N, raising her open palm so the boatman would hold up. “Y/N! Would you like to join me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

Yue’s nod prompted a shrug as she dropped down carefully into the gondola, taking extra care not to drop her gift, and took a seat next to her friend.

“This is a nice surprise,” Yue smiled as the boatman began to waterbend, effectively moving their gondola through the canal. “But if I might ask, what brought you here so early?”

Y/N laughed, thinking her reason for coming here obvious. “It’s your birthday, princess! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come to wish you well in person?”

Her smile grew even brighter, the corners of her eyes creasing up in the way that made some kind of warmth blossom in Y/N’s chest. “Thank you! That’s so sweet — I’m especially honored that you woke up early just for me.”

“Of course.” Y/N brandished the gift she had been doing her best to hide, unable to do the same for her own smile. “And here’s your gift! I sewed it all myself.”

Yue gasped as she took the creation, giving it a slight squeeze and a thorough investigation before absolutely beaming. “You made me an otter penguin— oh, you know how much I love these!”

She wrapped Y/N in a tight hug before pulling away, but it was just long enough for the heat to rush to her cheeks. “Thank you so much, really. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Y/N beamed at the praise and nodded, shifting a little in her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m glad you like it so much.”

The two girls grinned at each other then turned their gaze to the horizon, content to spend the rest of the ride together in comfortable silence.

Her friendship with the princess of the Northern Water Tribe was something that Y/N cherished with all her heart. She could confidently say that Princess Yue was her best friend, and she hoped it was a notion that Yue shared. As beautiful as she was kind, the princess always had a way of making her feel better on the hardest days — Yue was the only one who knew the whole truth of what happened in the Fire Nation, and she offered nothing but sympathy.

Y/N honestly didn’t know what she would do without Yue. She had been her rock during the whole process of getting situated in the tribe, always lending a helping hand when she stumbled in class or was completely oblivious to something in their culture, and she never made her feel stupid, or unwanted, or less-than for what she had come from.

The only thing that confused her about Yue was the feeling she got whenever Y/N was around her. The rushes of heat to her cheeks, the warmth blossoming in her chest, and the unusual happiness she felt anytime Yue smiled at her. The most peculiar of it all was the strange tug of jealousy any time a noble boy tried to flirt with the princess, and nothing but disinterest whenever they tried an angle on her instead.

She didn’t know what any of it meant, but she had the sneaking suspicion that it was wrong. So Y/N did the only thing she could and suppressed it.

Soon enough, though much to their chagrin, Y/N had to leave. After some exchanged hugs and one last wish of happy birthday, Y/N took off for her morning healing class. But as she hurried down the icy paths, she caught sight of the most peculiar thing.

A giant flying bison was being led through the canals with a team of waterbenders, three kids that couldn’t be any older than her on its back. One had an arrow on his head and sported orange and yellow robes, while the other two looked to be of Water Tribe descent.

Her interest was irrefutably piqued, but she didn’t have any more time to waste with gawking. So she began to run once again, apologies spilling from her lips as she maneuvered through the groups of people all just as awestruck by the strange arrival as she was. Y/N made a mental note to ask Yue about it later, but for now she was running very late to her healing class.

-

Sure enough, a few hours later, Y/N was able to get the answers she had been craving. She met up with Yue outside of the palace, and during a short walk, she learned that the boy was the Avatar. He had come to the Northern Water Tribe to master waterbending, and the two kids with him were his companions from the Southern Tribe — much to her excitement, the girl was a waterbender.

Needless to say, Y/N was even more enthusiastic than before, and Yue made her day by confirming that they would be coming to her birthday celebration that night as honored guests. She had already talked to her father about allowing Y/N to sit with her and he had said yes, which meant that she would get to meet him and his friends in person — it just served as a reminder that Y/N had no idea what she would do without Yue.

After what felt like hours of passing the time with lost games of Pai Sho against her grandfather and failed attempts at finishing her homework, it was finally time for the banquet. Once she arrived at the front of the palace she bid goodbye to her grandparents and went to find the seat that Yue had secured for her.

She settled down in the empty spot next to what she assumed was Yue’s — it was her birthday after all, so a dramatic entrance wasn’t out of the question — and nervously glanced at the three visitors, trying to figure out how to introduce herself.

Thankfully, she was saved when the girl met her eyes and waved, offering a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Katara; this is my brother Sokka, and that’s Aang.” She gestured in their direction with her head when she said their names and they both smiled and gave her polite nods.

She returned the sentiment gratefully. “I’m Y/N— I’m one of Princess Yue’s friends. Welcome to the Northern Water Tribe!”

“Thanks!” Aang said. “We’re here to find a master so Katara and I can master waterbending.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Master Pakku is one of the best there is, and even though he’s a total jerk, he’ll be able to teach you everything you need to know. And Katara, we have some amazing healing teachers— I can bring you along to my class tomorrow if you’re interested!”

Katara’s eyes lit up. “You’re a waterbender too?” When Y/N nodded, her smile grew even bigger, though slightly wistful.

“I’d really appreciate that,” she admitted, though her brows knit together. “But I’d like to learn from Master Pakku as well.”

Y/N frowned, about to correct her, when the distinct sound of drums began to echo throughout the hall. Her displeasure immediately disappeared as she grinned at them all excitedly, gesturing with her head towards the action.

Chief Arnook stood up from his spot and their table, his low voice booming. “Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe. And they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now… the Avatar!”

Y/N’s own applause joined a symphony of others clapping and cheering as Aang waved bashfully, and once it died down, Arnook continued. “We also celebrate my daughter’s sixteenth birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age!”

She grinned as Yue walked out alongside her attendants — she would never get used to her beauty. Y/N noticed the way that Sokka’s eyes widened as he stared at her, and her stomach twisted at the act for some unknown reason.

“Thank you, Father,” she said. “May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times!”

Arnook smiled at his daughter and directed his attention back to his people. “Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform!”

She could tell that Katara and Aang were enraptured by the bending, while Sokka’s attention was already on Yue as she walked over to sit between Sokka and Y/N.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Yue exclaimed, greeting her friend with a short embrace.

Y/N gave her a sideways smile. “If you think that I would miss your birthday and a banquet, then I’m afraid you’re out of practice on Y/N trivia.”

The princess laughed and nodded amiably then turned her attention to Sokka, ever the diplomat.

“Hi there,” he grinned. “Sokka, Southern Water Tribe.”

Yue returned the sentiment and gave him a slight bow. “Very nice to meet you.”

As their conversation went on, Y/N found herself tuning out a bit. For whatever reason, she had to actively stop herself from rolling her eyes at Sokka’s flirting, that same feeling in her stomach coming back. She made a mental note to see a healer about her issues.

“Hey, Y/N!” She snapped out of her self-imposed trance at the sound of Katara calling her name as she gestured for her to come over. It looked like Aang had gotten up to converse with Master Pakku and Chief Arnook, so she took the invitation and switched seats.

“I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally be here,” Katara said once Y/N had settled next to her. “Back home, I’m the only waterbender. Here… it’s like paradise. It almost feels too good to be true. I mean, even seeing you is crazy — I’ve never met a waterbender my age.”

Y/N smiled, though not without a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for you to be able to experience this. How are you the only bender left down there?”

Katara was silent for a moment, a flurry of emotions warring on her face, before she answered. “The Southern Tribe hasn’t fared half as well as the Northern Tribe during the war. We don’t have one big, huge capital like this, we’re all split up into small villages. The Fire Nation has just been relentless with their raids, and without support from the North and a lack of communication between our sister tribes in the South, they were able to wipe us all out. Except for me.”

“Spirits, Katara…” Y/N set an amiable hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that her softened expression could say what her words couldn’t. “My village was invaded when I was young, too. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

She nodded pensively but managed to meet her eyes with an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry about your village as well.” Her gaze drifted off, once again taking in the view around them, and when Katara met her eyes again she seemed better. “But we’re here now, and I’m planning to take advantage of everything I can, starting with all this food. Which one of these is your favorite?”

Y/N grinned as Katara pointed at the platter of various dishes in front of them. “Oh, you’ve got to try this. See that giant crab up there? That’s what this is, and you have not lived until you have tried Northern crab.”

Conversation flowed just as easily through the rest of the night between the two girls, occasionally switching to include Sokka and Yue and eventually Aang once he returned. Between the swells of pride whenever they laughed at her jokes, getting to learn about all three of them, and the almost palpable euphoria in the air, Y/N was sure of one thing:

This was the happiest she had felt in a long time. She could only hope it would last.

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895

atla: @marianne1806

[uvobreakmylegs]

Retrieval

I just wanted to write some gross shit sorry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, graphic imagery, gore, blood, degradation, threats of violence

A trio of very intoxicated men stumbled out of the front door of the bar followed by you. You held the door open for a second as you called out to the men to have a good night and to come back soon, but before you could give any of them a chance to respond you had shut the door and locked it, the bell on the door jingling above you. Maybe you weren't being too subtle about wanting them to leave already so you and your coworker could clean up the place, but at the moment you couldn't say you cared too much. It was after midnight and you wanted to go home.

Your coworker, Corey, chuckled at you from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Not very professional of you.”

“Because people like that are coming to a sports bar for professionalism and not to get drunk off of their asses,” you answered, grabbing a bucket and rag to begin with wiping down the tables.

“It's on you if they call back to complain,” he teased.

You laughed.

“Like any of them will be able to remember when they wake up tomorrow.”

“Guess you got a point there.”

You hummed in agreement, wiping down the wooden seats of the chairs before glancing back to him; Corey was still standing in the doorway, checking something on his phone.

“Are you going to clean up back there or are you expecting me to do it for you?” you teased him.

Corey held up his hands in mock surrender before he disappeared back to the kitchen.

The small sports bar you worked at always got pretty messy, both inside the kitchen and out. Food crumbs, wet stains from spilled drinks and small things like loose change, wads of gum and people's small personal items littered the dark carpeted floor. The tables and chairs were usually in a similar state in terms of the food and drink residue. At least you had never needed to clean the bathrooms.

Moving from table to table, you would wipe the surfaces clean, letting the mess on top fall to the floor before you set the chairs upside down on top of the table. Whatever had ended up on the floor you'd get with the vacuum later. It was time consuming and monotonous, but there was a weird part of you that got a certain satisfaction of being able to return the dining area back to a clean state, even if it would be all ruined by the next evening.

Even if it was stupid, at least you actually had the freedom to do what you liked no matter how stupid it was.

Corey was playing something on his phone in the kitchen; knowing him, it was probably some new podcast he had gotten into. The noise you could hear from the back was drowned out when you turned on the vacuum cleaner, trying in vain to clean up everything on the floor. You really wished the owners would take the time and money to replace the carpet with some hardwood; it would make cleaning up easier and would just look nicer.

The bar was always last because it wasn't usually that bad and you could get away with a not so thorough job as you tried to finish up before your shift ended. Corey was almost always done with the kitchen at this point and would be ready to mop the floor after you wiped down the counter.

As expected, Corey was waiting in the kitchen doorway with the mop bucket right next to him when you made it to the bar counter.

“Any plans after you get off?” he asked.

“Sleep,” you answered.

“You sure lead an exciting life,” he said jokingly.

“It's going to be after one in the morning soon; what kind of plans could I have?”

“I don't know. Figured maybe you'd have a boyfriend waiting for you or something.”

Boyfriend.

That word brought back some unpleasant memories. Of things you wanted to forget, and what you had run away from all those months ago.

You tried not to show it, but Corey seemed to pick up on the way you tensed at that.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you told him hastily, “not in the dating scene currently. I needed a break.”

He nodded slowly.

“Gotcha.”

You couldn't say that the two of you were particularly close, having only known each other a little less than a couple of months, but you did appreciate that he understood boundaries. Too many of the older staff were nosy and wanted to know your business, which frequently got on your nerves.

Wiping down the last bit of the bar, you were about to throw the cleaning rag back into its bucket when you both heard a loud banging sound coming from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” said Corey.

“I'll check it; you start mopping out here,” you told him.

He nodded as you brushed past him, your eyes looking about the kitchen as you entered it, trying to find the source of the noise. Setting down the bucket on one of the counters, you made your way to the back when you didn't see anything.

The culprit ended up being a large pan that had somehow fallen off the shelf. Most likely from being stacked incorrectly. That was annoying, since you now needed to wash it off, with it having touched the floor and all.

“Everything okay?” Corey called back to you.

“Yeah. Something fell,” you answered.

The wash you gave the pan was rather haphazard, but as you set it to the side to dry overnight, you figured that if the crew in the morning had an issue with it, they could clean it again. Right now you were five minutes away from clocking out and you wanted to get out on time.

“We're all good out here,” Corey's voice called again.

You were about to answer him when you noticed the bucket you had brought in, and when you ran over to dump the water out, you noticed the rag was missing.

“Ah shit.”

You'd left it on the bar counter, didn't you?

You had indeed managed to do that, and you slipped past Corey, standing on your toes and propping an arm on the bar counter as you reached for the rag.

“Could you maybe not step on my clean floors?”

“Sorry,” you called back, “need to grab something.”

Pulling the rag off of the counter by its tattered edge, you pushed off the counter a bit as you moved back to get off of the wet floor.

Somehow, you slipped. You felt your feet slipping against the wet tile as you fell backwards, and you had only seconds to try and brace for impact.

You hit something, but it wasn't the floor.

Corey had moved behind and grabbed you just in time. He held you like that for a moment so you could adjust your footing and stand up properly.

It was then you both realized that, in his efforts to save you from a nasty fall, one of his hands had accidentally ended up grabbing ahold of your breast, and he was currently groping you.

“Fuck I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands away the second you righted yourself.

“It's okay,” you answered. It came out a bit shaky, though that was mostly due to you almost falling.

“I swear that was an accident,” Corey continued.

“It's okay,” you insisted, “seriously, it's fine. I prefer that over having my skull break open.”

Corey nodded, but still looked sheepish, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head while he looked at the floor.

Eager to alleviate this new tension, you wracked your brain for something to say that would get things feeling not so weird again.

“Hey,” you said, “I didn't fall, so at least your floors have been spared from that.”

He chuckled a little bit.

“For the most part. But you still stepped on them in the first place.”

“I forgot I left the rag! Give me a break.”

“I will, if you move so I can re-mop the floor,” he said.

Happy that things seemed to have gone back to normal, you complied, walking back into the kitchen and tossing the rag into a bin. You grabbed the bucket again, hoisting it up to dump the murky contents into the sink.

A loud noise sounded from the dining area, like wood being split apart accompanied by the light tingling of a bell.

It was so unexpected and so noisy even in the kitchen that you jumped, causing you to spill some water onto the floor.

That noise..... Was that the front door? From hearing the bell it sounded like it, but hadn't you locked it?

“Sir,” Corey's voice sounded through the kitchen door, “w-we're closed.”

Corey saying that indicated that someone had come in, but that noise wasn't normal, and you set the bucket back down as you went back to the dining area to investigate.

And how did this person get in? You were certain you had locked that door.

You pushed open the door-

And froze.

Phinks.

He was standing in front of the bar's entrance, the door practically pulled off of it's hinges and hanging open. Bits of the door frame had splintered off from the force he had used to wrench it open and had been scattered on the walkway leading up to it.

But there was no way Phinks gave a shit about that.

The second you opened that door, his eyes were on you.

Rage.

Pure rage radiated from him, a blackened aura you swore you could see that slowly began to fill the empty spaces in the bar, his form stiff and his hands in fists that were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Only months ago you had done everything to get away from this man. Now he had found you, and he looked like he was ready to kill.

Corey looked back when you had entered, and immediately noticed your terrified expression.

“You know him?” he asked you.

Words couldn't come out. They just stayed trapped in your throat as you looked between him and Phinks, your breathing becoming short and harsh.

That had told Corey everything, as he stepped in front of you and addressed Phinks firmly.

“Sir, please leave now. We're going to call the police.”

With Corey now in the way, you couldn't see Phinks. But when he spoke for the first time since entering, you could sense just how much angrier he had become at Corey's actions.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he hissed.

Corey turned back, reaching out to you as he said “go call nine-”

Faster than either you or he could even think, Corey was pulled over the bar and brutally thrown across the room, crashing into one of the tables, the wood surface splintering and the chairs on top flying.

“Don't fucking touch her.”

Phinks' attention was on Corey now, and he stepped away from the bar. Corey was groaning and disoriented. There was blood dripping down his face as well as his arm, and he was shaking so violently that he couldn't push himself up off of the floor, instead collapsing over and over again onto the bits of broken table.

Phinks stood before him and reached down to pull him up by the collar of his shirt.

Corey pushed away his arm and stumbled backwards, hitting the edge of another table. You could see his eyes now, and the way he looked at Phinks in terror and confusion.

“Pathetic,” Phinks spat.

The blonde rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and began to wind that arm in a clockwise motion.

That was familiar, you realized, as a horrible memory was brought back.

A man had tried to cut the strap of your purse as you and Phinks were walking home one night. Phinks had noticed and pulled you out of the way, but not fast enough, and you had ended up with a large gash on your arm.

“You think I'm scared of you?” the man had said when an infuriated Phinks approached him, winding up his arm once, then twice and then three times.

Phinks punched him and the man went flying; across the empty street and into the side of a building. The impact had left a dent in the bricks and the man's blood smeared on the surface as his body slid down onto the pavement.

Your mind had gone hopelessly blank at the sight of that, the wound on your arm you had been nursing forgotten as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend, who quickly returned to your side and chided you for taking pressure off of the cut.

“Ph-Ph-Phinks,” you stuttered.

“Yeah?”

“You..... You killed that man.”

Phinks' gaze narrowed.

“What's your point?”

He was going to do it again.

That brought you out of your stupor, and you rushed to the edge of the bar as you yelled out “Phinks! Please! Don't kill him!”

More pleas for Corey's life were about to spill from your lips when he glared back at you, a silent command for you to shut the hell up. That look made you freeze up again, and you stood by helplessly, holding on to the edge of the bar as you watched Corey struggle to stay upright.

That murderous aura that had been around him was now stifling, and it affected Corey to the point that he was having trouble breathing.

You counted at least twenty times that Phinks had rotated his arm, the aura increasing every time he did it.

Phinks glanced back at you again, and rotated once more.

He punched Corey in the face.

And Corey's entire upper half exploded.

His head was completely gone, face caving in on itself where Phinks had punched until it burst out through the back of his skull. His chest and arms were blown to pieces from the impact, the smaller bits of muscle and organs ripping out of him and sticking to the walls while the larger pieces of meat slid down with the copious amounts of blood and collected into the booths below. His lower half that remained mostly intact slumped beneath the table he had been leaning against, the remainder of his insides spilling out onto the floor while one of his legs still twitched. There was a fine red mist in the air over what remained intact, slowly settling down and soaking into the dark carpet.

You couldn't move.

You just stood there, keeping your hold on the edge of the bar, occasionally tensing and untensing your fingers as you looked at the piles of red slush and bone that had been your coworker.

Phinks had already walked away from it, coming towards the bar. But he passed by you, slamming the door to the kitchen open and letting it swing shut as he entered. You could hear movement, the sounds of his shoes scraping on the brick-red tile of the floor, glass clinking, him cursing to himself, a faucet being turned, and a familiar sound of water filling up a small container.

But you still stood there, unable to take your eyes away from the horrific scene. Minutes, no, seconds ago, that had been a person. Corey had friends, family and aspirations. And within a single moment, that person had been reduced to a mangled corpse that would only fill half of a body bag. How would they identify him? Whoever cleaned him up, would they be able to get everything? Or would bits of him be left behind and stay forever buried in the cracks and crevices of the bar?

You had seen Phinks kill before and it had made you sick then, but nothing had ever been anywhere near as terrible as this.

Corey's leg had stopped twitching, but blood that had hit the wall continued to trickle down in small streams.

You heard Phinks let out a loud sigh as a glass slammed against a metal counter top.

“Okay,” he called out, “I think I've calmed down now.”

Those footsteps in the back became louder and the door swung open again. Phinks appeared by your side, and when he gently put a hand on your arm, you finally looked away from Corey.

Phinks opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he glanced over to the mess he had left.

“... Lets go to the back,” he said after a moment.

He pulled you with him into the kitchen, and you didn't fight him on it. He still looked angry, but it was considerably less than when he had first entered.

Phinks leaned against the rim of the sink, one hand staying on you as you were positioned to stand in front of him.

“Been a while,” he said quietly.

You didn't respond.

He tsked.

“Goddammit. I find you again after months, and now you can't speak because of that asshole out there. Look, I know I overdid it, but after seeing the way that guy touched you I couldn't control myself.”

His eyes narrowed and he continued “why the fuck did you let him get away with touching you like that?”

Somehow, you managed to find your voice.

“I-it.... It was an a-accident.”

Phinks' free hand came up to lightly slap the side of your head. It didn't hurt, but you flinched regardless.

He had used that hand to end Corey's life; he could easily do the same to you.

“Stupid. You actually thought a move like that was accidental? That bastard was taking advantage of you and you were laughing it off.”

That wasn't true. It had been an accident. But instead of volunteering those thoughts, you bit down on your lip as it began to quiver, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Don't cry. Sorry. I shouldn't have hit you,” he said, his hand going back up to where he hit, softly stroking your hair.

“I'm just so fucking pissed at how gullible you are. What do you think would've happened if someone smarter had tried taking advantage of you? Fuck, some guys wouldn't need to be smarter; they'd just need to be strong enough to pin you down. Do you even realize how many ways you could've been fucked over before I found you? Did you even think about that? Or was that just me, because I'm actually capable of having some fucking sense?”

His hands settled on your shoulders and his grip became tighter.

“I've been stressed out of my mind trying to figure out where the hell you went, how the hell you managed to get away, or what condition you'd be in when I found you. I couldn't find you and I swear I was going insane. And after all that, when I finally manage to track you down, I have to see you letting some piece of trash grope you?”

Those hands slid up until they were around your neck, and his grip became tighter still.

“It would be so easy,” he murmured, “to just snap your neck and be done with it. Then the constant headache I get from worrying about you would go away. If you're going to fight and run away from me than what's the point?

“Maybe it'd be better for me if you were dead.”

It was deathly quiet in that kitchen.

Phinks still held that grip on you, and you were certain he could feel how fast your heart was beating through the pulse in your neck. You stood there, stiff and quiet as he looked you over, thinking to himself.

He really was considering it.

Any wrong move from you, and there would be two corpses to be found in the morning.

After a few painfully silent moments, he sighed again.

“But I think that if I killed you, part of me would die, too. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's the truth.”

Finally taking his hands off your throat, he pulled you against his chest to embrace you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Phinks said, “but I'd be even more miserable if I didn't have you. Does that make sense?”

Your face was pressed against the front of his tracksuit and you found yourself focusing on the patterned colors of white, red and green.

“I've heard it said a lot that being in love means that you also have to suffer,” he continued, “do you think that's true?”

“..... I don't know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and was muffled by the way he pressed you against his chest, but he still managed to hear your answer as he actually chuckled, rubbing the top of your head.

“'I don't know'. Big surprise there,” he said sarcastically, “you haven't changed a bit.”

When he pulled you away he was smiling, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he told you “don't cry anymore. I'm taking you home.”

Hearing that only made you want to cry more.

“Go get your bag and anything else you brought in,” he continued, “I already went to your apartment and packed up your stuff there. Once we're done here we can head out.

“We'll be back home before you know it.”

[the-cult-of-russo]

In the Stars (part 2)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: So, first of all, I love your writing so much. I've just finished reading "In the stars" and I've loved it! Idk if you're taking requests but I was wondering if maybe you could do a part 2?

A/N: You guys… I had so many fucking requests for part two of this, I love you. I'm honestly overwhelmed by how much you guys engage with my work on here. 

Side note; I don't actually know much about astrology so take anything I say with a pinch of salt since it's done with surface level research for this. I'm more of a tarot girl myself and originally I was gonna switch the astrology to tarot since I know all about that. But I didn't wanna deviate from the request too much so I stuck with astrology. 

Warnings: cursing, bit of fluff, idk flirting? Talk of sex but no actual sex? 

If you guys want a part three to this which would mostly be smut then hit me up lmaoooo 

-----------

You were lounging on a beat up sofa that was in the greenhouse at the back of the flower shop. The plants were watered and it was a nice day. You were taking a moment to relax and let the sun come through the glass above you like a cat basking in the warm glow. You knew a customer had come in a little bit a go. You'd heard a gruff voice ask Gemma for advice on flowers for his girl. But since you were never needed in the front, you just chilled out for a bit after popping some headphones in and vibing in the sun as you leisurely scrolled on an astrology site you were on. 

Maybe, just maybe, you'd been thinking about Mr Fancy Coffee man in the past three days since you ran right into him. You'd been sure you'd see him again at the time but it hadn't happened so far. Either way, you kept thinking back to his smile and his obsidian eyes and you smirked as you read what you'd already known when you'd called back after him to give him your own sign. 

'Aries and Scorpio Sex:

Aries and Scorpio like to turn the heat up with everything they do! So, you can imagine the bedroom as being one feisty! Aries is a fire sign, and Scorpio is a water sign. Mix fire and water and what do you get? Yes, it is steam! With this duo between the sheets, we pray the wallpaper can withstand the steam-effect! Aries and Scorpio are the same when it comes to an intense libido. They are energetic with enough energy to keep each other up all night long.'

You ripped your headphones out, tossing your phone on the worn out faded pink cushions as you bounded to the door to the main shop.

"Hey, Gem! Did you know that Aries and Scorpio are like hella compatible for sex? I mean we'd just be riding each other all ni-" your words died on your lips as you slipped through the beaded curtain to find the man from earlier who hadn't actually left yet. He was a little rough looking but he wore a look of shock and thorough amusement at your words as you smacked a hand over your mouth with a laugh. It wasn't really appropriate talk in front of a customer but even Gemma bit her lip to stifle her incredulous laughter. 

"I uh… I'm sorry," you murmured, a sly smirk on your face that said you weren't really sorry but said it anyway to be polite. He barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. Sounds like a hell of a time," he replied with a chuckle. It put you at ease that he wasn't going to start something about your behaviour, threaten to take his business elsewhere. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done that. 

"Don't mind her. She's the crazy plant lady," Gemma grinned as she continued adding flowers to the bouquet on the counter. Some pretty forget-me-nots. 

"Hey! I'm not crazy just because I talk and sing to them. It's science! If I didn't do that then all these beauties would be withering away in misery," you pouted playfully, earning another laugh from your best friend and chuckle from the man. 

You looked at him then and he was already looking at you. His gaze wandered your face and hair like you held the secrets to the universe and you quirked a brow curiously. Knowing he was caught out, he glanced away and cleared his throat but his eyes flit back to you. It wasn't like you weren't used to looks since you were anything but ordinary, but he looked almost like he knew you or something.

"Sorry… just… thought I recognised you," he muttered apologetically. 

"Oh trust me, you'd know if you'd met her before. She leaves quite the impression," Gemma snorted. 

"I bet she does," the man said with a small smile as he looked at you again like he knew something you didn't. Or maybe you were imagining it.

You grinned as you walked towards the counter, leaning your arms on it as you admired her work. The bouquet was filled with purples and blues and it was breathtaking. 

"Serious relationship?" You asked casually. The man looked slightly taken aback by your bold question and Gemma swatted your arm as you gave her a look.

"What?" You asked with a huff. The man smiled and shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It is. Been together for a little over a year now," he had a lovesick look on his face and you found yourself smiling back at him. 

"You love her?" You asked softly. He rubbed the scruff on his chin with a bashful look that looked at odds with the rest of him as he nodded.

"That I do," he murmured fondly. 

You pushed up and leaned your hands on the counter as you glanced from the flowers back to him.

"You should get her a succulent," you declared. Gemma snorted again as she trimmed the ends off some roses and the man quirked his brow.

"You mean like… a cactus or some shit?" He asked, sounding confused and amused. 

You rolled your eyes, whizzing into the back and grabbing a small terracotta pot with a baby succulent in it. It looked almost like a flower with how it's leaves were arranged. You bought it back out to the front and back to him as you set it down on the counter.

"Meet Emily. She's cute and sweet and she says forever," you shot him a cheeky grin and he snorted, eyes darting from the plant to you.

"I'm sorry… Emily?" He asked with a smirk 

"Hey, she's a living thing like you and me, why shouldn't she have a name? And don't tell the others but… she's my favourite," you whispered the last part, eyes darting to the beaded curtain like you didn't want the others to hear and when you looked back at him he was smiling and shaking his head at you. 

"Look… flowers are great and all, a nice gesture and pretty to look at, but they wither and die. They go from pretty to morbid which is why they're great for special occasions but they don't last. But these cuties… they don't take much maintenance, it's hard to kill them and they're more… permanent. Flowers are a great way to say 'I love you' in a shorter sense, but nothing says 'I'll love you forever' more than one of these," you mused with a fond look at the plant. 

The man stared at the plant for a moment appearing deep in thought and when you glanced to Gemma, she was grinning from ear to ear as she wrapped up the arrangement in pretty pale purple paper. A similar shade to your current hair color.

"Fuck it. I'll take… Emily, too," he declared after a moment. You beamed and slid the pot over to Gemma so she could pack her up with the rest of the goods and ring him up. 

"You're good at this," the man said after a moment. You flushed a little at his words and snorted. 

"I just care about the plants," you shrugged with a smile. 

Gemma finished the wrapping and started ringing up the purchases as the man's eyes darted between you both.

"So… you two ladies got any plans later?" He asked casually. He didn't seem the type to make unnecessary small talk but Gemma opened her mouth to indulge him anyway. 

"A few of us are going out later to the bar down the street. The Lizard? It's not been open that long but it's pretty chill. It's nothing fancy though," Gemma smiled softly as she accepted the money from him, opening the register.

"Fancy places wouldn't let us in," you snorted with a smirk, toying with one of the many rings on your fingers.

"They wouldn't let you in. Besides, they have good music there and they don't mind when we let loose and get a little weird," Gemma laughed. The man chuckled with a nod before glancing back at you. He still had that look of recognition in his eyes and you tried to think if you'd ever seen him before. 

"Sounds like my kinda place. I might have to go with Karen and some friends sometime," he mused with a nod.

"You should, if you run into us let me know if she loves Emily. You've basically both adopted a cute earthy child so…" you grinned mischievously. He snorted, seemingly unaffected by you being yourself and you liked it. It wasn't often you got to talk to customers like this which is why you often stayed hidden in the back.

"I will. Have fun ladies and thanks for these," with that he was off and you and Gemma grinned at each other. It was nice to have a customer like that man, even if he did look completely out of place in a flower shop. You had a feeling he'd come back for more things for this Karen woman he was smitten with. 

---------

Billy sipped his beer, dark gaze flitting around the bar before he settled on his best friend. Karen was leaning on his shoulder and the pair had been nauseatingly close since they got here. Curtis and David were also at the table relaxing and talking to one another. 

"Is there a reason we're here?" Billy drawled as he sat back in his chair a little more. This wasn't their usual haunt and they didn't normally deviate from it. It wasn't so much that he didn't like the place. It was relaxed and quite similar to where they usually ended up. But it was a break in routine and he wasn't sure why. 

Frank shot him a sly smirk as he sipped his beer and it made Billy narrow his eyes a little.

"Well… I have it on good authority that little Ms Aries is gonna be here," he said smugly. Billy hated himself the moment he sat up straighter like an eager schoolgirl, especially when his friends all cheered and laughed at the news. He'd only told Frank about her, but Frank being Frank… well he'd told Karen and Karen told Curtis and David and in three short days it had become a running joke that he was hung up on a girl he hadn't even been able to get the name of.

Billy tilted his head, long fingers tapping on the beer bottle as he levelled his gaze at Frank.

"And how would you know that when we don't even know who she is?" He asked with a raised brow. Frank had a shit eating grin on his face as he leaned forward on the table a bit.

"Because I found her at her work earlier," he grinned. Billy blinked at him for a moment, mouth floundering as he tried to absorb that tidbit.

"Okay… so as my best friend and therefore wingman, is there a reason you didn't mention it until now?" He asked dryly. 

"Nah, I thought it would be a nice surprise and I didn't want you to talk yourself outta comin' here. Never seen you hung up on a girl before and I gotta say, she's a fuckin' riot," Frank snorted. Billy felt an unnecessary pang of envy at him then. Envy that his best friend managed to find her, spend some time with her maybe more than he had in the street. He knew it was stupid. His best friend was head over heels for Karen after all, but it was there all the same. 

"She works at the flower shop," Karen supplied with a soft smile as she looped her arms around Frank's larger one. Great, so Frank told her before he told him. Did everyone but him know? Why he was feeling like a petulant child, he didn't know, but before he could open his mouth to no doubt say something ridiculous, Frank's sly grin widened as he inclined his head to the door. 

Billy would lie until the day he took his last breath about how fast his head whipped to the door. He almost broke his damn neck. But there she was in all her purple haired glory and Jesus fuck was she the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. How did she get even more attractive in three days? Shit was ridiculous. But not as ridiculous at the nerves that bloomed in his belly at the sight of her. He was Billy Russo. Ex Spec Ops sniper. Former marine. CEO of Anvil. Serial womaniser. But now he was just Billy. Dumbfounded, actually kind of nervous and moon-eyed Billy. 

He watched as she and another girl she came in with walked over to the table with a few people and hugged them. Her smile was radiant and his eye twitched when she hugged the guys at her table. He kept waiting like she'd lean in and kiss one of them. To feel that crushing blow. But it never happened. In fact, the girl she'd come in with snuggled up to the one of the guys and the other had his arm wrapped around another girl at the table. 

"Well… you gonna go and get her name or what, Bill?" Frank asked with a snort. Billy cleared his throat, rolling his shoulder and glancing back to his beer before he shrugged.

"After my drink," he tried to sound casual but Frank's gaze softened a little and he hated that his best friend knew him better than anyone. He was just thankful Frank didn't call him out for it.

---------

You and Gemma had gotten to the bar a little later than usual because Gemma's cat snuck out the apartment and you'd had to hunt him down. He was cute but a menace but once he was back safe at home you'd both made a beeline for the bar. You had a few shots in quick succession to make up for the lost time and you weren't drunk but you felt the pleasant warmth spreading through you as you laughed and joked with your friends.

"Oh, I love this song, dance with me," you beamed, not giving Gemma a chance to protest as you grabbed her hand and moved a little from the table. It wasn't a club and there wasn't a dance floor but there was adequate space between the tables to dance. No one else was dancing but it was hardly the first time you and Gemma did this. It was always fun and amusing. 

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and hers went around your waist as the pair of you giggled and swayed your hips. There were a few cat calls but it was all in jest. It was obvious you two were joking around by your over exaggerated movements and Gemma singing loudly and very off key, with your friends joining in the chorus. You loved your group of little weirdos. 

You turned around in her arms, hands still around her neck from behind as you swung your hips, eyes closed and a smile on your face. But when you opened them, they landed right on Mr Handsome himself who was at a table with some others and he was staring at you with wide eyes and a small smile. A grin spread across your face as you continued to dance. You knew you'd see him again. You paid little attention to anyone else as your eyes locked with his and he sat up a little straighter as he noticed he had your attention. 

You smirked, flashing him a cheeky wink as a call back to when you last met before you spun back around to face Gemma.

"So… the super hot guy over there in a maroon sweater? Looks like he's stepped right off of vogue? He's Coffee guy," you murmured giddily. Gemma didn't even hide the look she shot him before she laughed and looked back at you.

"First of all… wow. And second, he's like legit staring at you so hard right now," Gemma smirked.

You bit your lip with a smile as the song ended. Gemma gave you a hug before returning to her seat and then you made your way over to the bar and waited for the bartender so you could grab a beer.

"Can I get you a drink, astrology girl?" His smooth voice sent a shiver down your spine and you glanced over to where he was now standing next to you. 

"Of course. Beer please, Coffee boy," you grinned cheekily at him. He chuckled, ducking his head as he waved over the bartender and asked for two beers. 

"I told you we'd meet again," you murmured with a smirk, sipping the beer once it was placed in front of you. 

"You did. Although I think my friend Frank had somethin' to do with that," he replied with a smile as he glanced over his shoulder. You followed his gaze to his table and saw the man from the flower shop. Your eyes widened as an incredulous laugh left your lips and you gave him a thumbs up. You heard his laugh from across the bar. The woman with him was smiling wide and also watching you both, as were the other two men at his table. You had a feeling if you glanced over at your own friends they'd be doing the same thing. 

"So… do I get your name yet?" He asked, leaning his forearms on the bar. His shoulder brushed yours and it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through you. You glanced at him, a coy smile on your lips as you took another sip of beer. Your tongue darted out and swiped over your lower lip to catch a drop and you didn't miss how his dark eyes were drawn to the motion. It made your stomach clench. 

"Y/N," you smiled softly. You couldn't help it, you'd have given him anything he asked right then with the way he was looking at you. His face brightened when you relinquished your name, his eyes crinkling a little as he grinned. His teeth are perfect. I want him to bite every inch of me with those things.

"Billy," he offered, raising his beer bottle. You grinned as you clinked yours with his and you both took a drink. 

"I read some pretty interesting things about the sexual compatibility of an Aries and Scorpio," you murmured with a wry grin, nibbling your lower lip as you looked at him through your lashes. He was so close to you and you could feel his warmth through the layers of both of your clothes. And he smelt good. It almost made you dizzy.

"Is that so?" He asked, dark eyes intent on you and only you. His voice was lower than before and you fought the urge to jump him right there. You flashed him a toothy grin, a mix of flirtatious and just plain impish that made him smile.

"Apparently we're a match made in sexual heaven," you teased softly. 

You watched as he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. His almost black eyes felt like they were setting you on fire from the inside out with how heated his gaze was.

"Well now I gotta problem. Because I wanted to ask you on a date first but you're makin' it really hard for me to have any restraint," he purred. Shiiiiit. That tone alone would have you needing to change your panties when you got home. 

You smirked, all sinful as you leaned into his ear, your hand going to his firm forearm. You heard his breathing hitch before you even said anything as your hot breath landed on his ear.

"I'd really like that date," you whispered with a saccharine smile. Honestly, you weren't known for your patience and you wanted nothing more than to drag him back to your place and fuck him until neither of you could walk again. But the idea of a date, of dragging it out a bit, it intrigued you. The man had lived rent free in your brain since you both collided three days ago and as much as it would kill you, you knew the wait would be worth it and only make it better. 

You moved back a bit, your face still ridiculously close to his and he flashed you a devilish smile all of his own before he leaned down and kissed you. It was an intense kiss. Full of hunger and passion you'd never felt before and you didn't hesitate to kiss him back eagerly. There were some cat calls and you had a feeling a few came from your friends but you were hardly fazed by your brazen kiss with the most handsome man in the world. 

When you broke away, you were both panting and you felt your cheeks flush a little at how he looked at you. There was definitely arousal there but he also looked slightly awestruck. You flashed him another grin before slurping some of your beer and he chuckled as he did the same. 

You spent the next few hours sitting beside Billy at the bar as you got to know one another, all the little mundane details that really made up a person. You felt like you'd never get tired of looking at him, of hearing that smooth as silk voice or watching how expressive his face and eyes could be. And no matter what you said, whether it was embarrassing stories about your friends or about the plants at work, he acted like you'd just told him the best story ever. He was attentive and soaked up all of your words greedily. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel like this. 

You left the bar that night after agreeing for him to pick you up at 8 the next night and exchanging numbers. You'd kissed him that time and it was full of as many promises as his kiss had been. And you didn't miss the way Frank clapped his back once he returned to his seat either. The wait would definitely be worth it. 

[dokifluffs]

Good Night’s Sleep | Matsuoka Rin

Pairing: Rin X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: angst to comfort fluff

Author’s Note: it feels so nice to write fluff askdjahsd 

His eyes darted over to the door in nanoseconds as you stormed into the house from the oblivion night beyond the door. You threw your bag down to the ground and kicked off your shoes in frustration as you cried, your tears burning your dried eyes, ones that you kept wide and stared ahead through your journey home from your your school’s library.

You sobbed and pressed the palms of your hands to your eyes, your throat constricting, sore whenever you swallowed. You were so stressed and your eyes felt so heavy. It felt like the world was crushing you from the inside and out. Everything was dark but there was a subtle comfort you found not being able to see anything. Your back bumped into the nearest wall and you sunk down, wanting to disappear.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Rin knelt down in front of you, his eyes scanning your body for any physical wound or injury that was inflicting such dejection into your heart. Your bright smile gone replaced with trembling lips as you let out whimpered cries, your fingers stiff and cold. “Y/N?” He gently took your wrists into his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of yours. His tone was kind to you, not pressuring you at all in any bit- he just wanted to know what was going on. While you were out at the library all day, he knew of your whereabouts and left you to your programs.

He took you into his embrace, seeping his warmth into your cool body from the outside. The two of you were in your own little world on the dim entrance of the front door, the only light coming from the lamp in the living room a short distance away. He rubbed your back lovingly, pressing his face into your head, his lips pressing long kisses to the crown of your head. Your bodies rocked back so you sat in his lap, cradled in his arms.

You took your hands away from your hands, the pressure no longer on your eyes but the burn still present. You could feel how puffy they were based on how stiff it felt to blink.

“M-my codes....” you hiccuped. “I lost all my progress,” you sobbed, your voice cracking into a high pitched whine as you slumped into his shoulder, his soft red eyes looking down to you, listening, deciphering the words the best he could but it all made sense. You were a computer science major at his school and you had been swamped recently. You had spent the last couple days, getting only a few hours of sleep that were closer to naps than an actual good night’s sleep. In your program, you were assigned a monthly project that was portioned for a huge part of your semester final. He knew nothing about computers or programming or anything but what he observed from you, it was time consuming, and based on what he saw, you had to be very thorough. 

“My damn laptop shorted out just before I left,” you groaned. The world felt so cruel and against you, you wanted to curl up and disappear. You wanted to desperately go back in time. You remembered vividly just sitting there and staring at your laptop for who knows how long after you tried all the methods you could and learned to get back all your progress but nothing. You had lost it all right when you were so close to finishing it early according to your plan but everything was lost- it felt like a bit of your soul was thrown out of the window, never to be seen again.

“It’ll be okay, right?” He nudged your arm, leaning his down in attempts to meet yours, strands of his red hair blocking his eyes. “You said you were close with your professor, right? I’m sure he would understand your situation, hm?” He did his best to look on the bright side for you and he was hopeful you could do something. There had been days you had come back home to him, a smile so radiant it challenged the sun itself, going on for so long about how great class was, how much your professor was able to make you love computer science and how he opened your eyes, seeing beyond the technicalities.

His words sunk in, sparking hope in you yourself as he continued rocking the two of you slowly, his body warming you up. He was most likely right- your professor was like a grandparent to you. He was one of the few that felt more than an educational guide to you and it was such a rare experience in all the years you spent in school.

“You’re so hard working, one of, if not, the best students he has right now. I’m sure he’ll give you some more time?”

You nodded as you breathed choppily, your body shaking every now and then in his hold. You had never felt so drained before but you couldn’t tell if it was from losing your progress, sleeping for only about eight hours in the past three to four nights in total, or if you were hungry, or all.

“Do you wanna eat?”

You shook your head, rubbing your nose with your sleeve, your head leaned into his shoulder, playing with a necklace that dangled around his neck you had gotten him a few years ago.

“No? How about a bath then and then sleep?” He rubbed the bottom of your back.

You nodded and that was all he needed. He intertwined his fingers with yours and led you to the living room to switch off the tv and light, leading you through the dark up the stairs to the bedroom. You kept close to him, following him, one hand holding his, the other holding the bottom edge of his shirt. 

The bathroom was suddenly illuminated as he switched on the light. He turned on the water, and let the bath fill, putting just the slightest bit of soap. You leaned back on the counter, the sinks and mirror behind you. The sound of his bare feet on the tiled floor sounded as he walked from the bathroom to the closet and back again with your clothes to change into after.

“Don’t cry anymore,” he took your hand in his, squeezing it lovingly, the other brushing stray tears that came from your eyes with the back of his finger. “Please?” Whenever you were sad, it made him sad. It made him feel like the world around him had gotten gloomier to the eye and soul but it made sense since you were his world. “Come feel the water.” He led you to the tub and shut off the water and dipped his hand in. “Is this too hot?”

You dipped your hand in, sniffling, stifling a yawn at the feel of the warmness from the water. “It’s fine,” your voice just above a whisper, your body so sleepy and done with the world. You shook your head, playing with it ever so slightly.

“Alright then, I’ll be right outsi-“

“Can you stay?” You reached up and tugged on his shirt, the cotton fabric pinched between your index finger and thumb. You took him by surprise since he figured you would need some space and a bit of time to yourself, but turning back to look at you, he could feel the complete opposite of what he thought.

You stripped off your clothes and tossed them into the hamper, dipping your feet in before you sat yourself down, a thin layer of soapy bubbles concealing your body. Rin brought in a small stool and sat beside you as you leaned your head to the edge of the tub. He rested his chin on his right hand, elbow on the tub, the other dangling over the edge inside, fingers swirling with the water and bubbles.

You watched, semi-mesmerized with the way his fingers swirled, a small smile spreading on his lips seeing your eyes so focused. Now that he looked closer, he could see the bags beneath your eyes, the edges of your eyes lined with the faintest bit of red.

“You really need sleep.” He flicked the water with the tips of his fingers, poking and popping small bubbles.

“I know,” you mumbled just before you let out a big yawn, your body relaxing itself in the warm water. You reached for his hand and brought it to your face so he cupped it. You nuzzled into his touch, your heart swelling feeling his hand rub your cheek.

He helped you wash your body and massage your scalp, making you all clean and relaxed. Stepping out of the bath, he wrapped his arms holding the towel around you, drying you off. As his hands moved the towel on your body, you took the chance and leaned forward when his arms were still around you, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Rin,” your voice airy and small as you yawned again.

He squeezed his arms tighter into your body, lifting you up just a couple inches off the ground, smothering your cheek with his kisses. “Don’t thank me,” he mumbled into your cheek. “Now let’s get you dried and dressed, straight to bed.” Your mood brightened with his smile and loving touches. He rubbed your head and dried your hair with a towel and then hair dryer, brushing through it. You wore one of his shirts, the bottom edges of it lightly grazing your thighs as you crawled into bed, the mattress dipping to both your weights on the bed. You stretched yourself out, pushing your face into the pillows, your legs curling beneath the blanket before you turned to him, draping your leg over his, his arm around your body.

He turned himself and faced you, holding you close. You let out yet another yawn into his chest in the dark room. “Get some sleep,” he spoke into your forehead, his hand rubbing down your back, his legs now tangled with yours. He kept this going, the peaceful look of your face imprinted in his mind as he took in your features. You fell asleep in no time, letting the heaviness lift off your body, your eyes getting the much needed rest you deserved.

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