#i am going to hoard this somewhere and reread it often

[catboynecromancy]

1, 3, 7, 8, 18?

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic. Probably something very, very heavy in internal narrative. I'm also way more comfortable writing humorous/crack and fluffier stuff, even if I often come up with very angsty plots. 😅

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole? Lol. I'm pretty open to anything. I'm *really* not into A/B/O and have only read one fic of that (which is only because I was beta'ing a joke fic for a pal). I used to be into much, much heavier/darker fic tropes, but I've sort of started drifting away from them as I get older. Also, I guess, I have a very difficult time with unrequited fics that don't end up with it ever being requited. Nothing wrong with them at all, they just make me sad. 😭

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

Uh, I use what I call "Idea" docs/notes (this is where information, random bits of dialogue, scene ideas, overal ~vibes~ go), "Deep Cuts" docs (this is where I put literally everything I chop or change too drastically while I am writing, just in case), and I have a very vague outline for tapoma but I don't bother with one shots.

7 & 8 are going under a read more because 1. long, 2. NSFW, 3. Dialogue from chapter 4 of tapoma.

Also thank you for the ask~~~~ 💕💕💕

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hahaha I've shared this before so please forgive me! But also it's probably my favorite thing I've written (thus) far. I mean I've really only been writing consistently for about a month and a half at this point, so I don't have too much. I’m just really proud of 1. the use of a dante’s inferno quote & the whole haha la petite mort/orgasm/whatever dfsjk, 2. the flow of it into a metaphor.

Love led the two of us unto one death.

Adam’s thoughts are elsewhere, lost in the memory of last night, when Ronan had been especially pliant and willing beneath him. His pitchy whines, soft pants, and uninhibited, shameless moans as Adam thrust eagerly into the tight, wet, heat of his ass. His pleas for harder, harder, harder, Goddammit, Adam, fuck me like you really mean it because, even though Adam was giving it his all, Ronan is, at his core, a salacious creature that can never, truly be sated. But, again, Adam is his own sort of creature, one made of never-ending wants and desires, just as voracious as Ronan. The only difference is, he’s been this way for a lot longer, and he’ll take until there’s nothing left.

What a pair they make. The beast who will give everything unprompted, with the one who hoards it after being deprived for such a prolonged length of time.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Adam?” Ronan gasps, voice louder than he intends.

His head snaps to Ronan, arms wrapping against his chest in a way that is quickly becoming familiar. “Fuck,” Adam breathes out, also louder than necessary. He gives it some thought and, then, appropriately repeats with more force, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Ronan agrees lamely. He looks around, nodding along to a far-off, nearly inaudible beat coming from somewhere in the distance. “Should you – ”

Adam interrupts with a quick, “No.”

“Fucking hell, you didn’t even let me finish what I was saying.”

“Don’t have to. My answer is still no.”

Okay so this one takes some explanation for sure. Like, overall, there is nothing all that great going on here? But there's this sort of feeling and choppiness that happens when you're still super fucked up and the music suddenly cuts off, leaving you in relative silence. It's hard to hear because the music has been blasting in your ears for hours, and conversations tend to get really weird and stilted at this point in the night and whenever I reread this part, I end up throwing myself back into this very situation all over again lmaooo

[bennyboyjones]

THE GETAWAY (Ben Hardy FanFic) Prologue

A/N: Hi! So, here is the prologue to my Ben Hardy  AU Fanfic! There are currently several chapters written, which you can find on Wattpad if you click on the link below, but I’ve decided to also upload it here as well. It might be a bit behind, but you’ll still get all the chaps eventually. 

What it is: basically, a girl from a small town who is bored of her life decides to take a trip to Nice where she runs into ben, who is also running away from some shit and some romance ensues. 

Word count: 1.6k

In this chapter: just some background to get us started. You probably don’t have to read this to understand what comes after, but it will help you understand the main character better. 

WATTPAD LINK IF YOU WANT TO READ AHEAD

Here we go:

prologue

I brushed my thumb over the twenty year old bonds clutched between my fingers. My eyes swept over the bank tellers, my weight switching back and forth from my right to my left foot. These people were taking forever; I figured it would be slow since it was a Monday morning, but apparently this was when all of the housewives did their banking. I had been next in line for the past fifteen minutes and as time went on, my nerve was steadily draining out of me. 

Last night, after a bottle of wine, I sat on the floor of my bedroom and reached under my bed for the manilla folder that held the contents of what I would consider the best six months of my life.  The folder was worn, soft, had both coffee and wine stains, and looked way too aged for something that had only come into existence a year ago. I placed my glass next to me, on the equally stained gray carpet, and pulled out endless postcards, bookmarks, pamphlets, plane tickets, museum and park and exhibit passes, and polaroids. I sifted through them, running fingers over my best friends’ smiling faces, rereading postcards to my family I had already memorized, focusing on guides to museums in Copenhagen, Paris, and London as if studying them could magically teleport me back. Instead, I was stuck here, in Rye, a small town that I was so, so bored of. 

I had lived here my entire life, and so had my parents. We went to the same elementary school and high school, we lived a thirty-second drive and a five minute walk from where my dad grew up. Everyone I had gone to school with had parents who graduated with or around the same time as mine. I felt so suffocated by sameness, by the ordinariness, and was terrified of repeating the pattern of monotony. 

When it was time to go to college, I was sure I would end up in New York City—somewhere not too far, but far enough, different enough from everything I wanted to get away from. When I was in high school, I decided that I was made to live there. For nine months out of the year, I’m a New Yorker—but during the summer I’m always back in Rye because apparently it’s financially irresponsible to take out loans to dorm over the summer and I can’t afford an apartment on a waitress’s salary, nor do I have the time to take up a second job and go to school full time, so Rye it is.

I only ever missed New York seasonally, but I missed London all the time. 

I missed living in London. I missed walking the three blocks from Queen Mary to the Co-Op to grab mushrooms, flapjacks, and a bottle of wine. I missed sitting on the Central Line at 11:30pm drunk, with Sarah and Annie on our way to our favorite club near Tottenham Court Road. I missed walking to Rinkoff’s hungover and grabbing a cronut. I missed Brick Lane on Sunday mornings. I missed a past life. 

For the past year, I’ve been saving up to get it back. When I came home last June, I worked a waitressing job at a small restaurant on our main street, as many doubles as I could—six days a week—and I refused to spend a single dime of it. I worked part time the past two semesters and saved as much as I could, but metro cards were expensive and a girl needed to eat, and also have a social life, and instead of “throwing away” my left over aid money on spring break vacations like my friends did, I hoarded that $1,231 and pretended I wasn’t bothered by the Miami Beach pictures even though I knew I was missing out. 

London was expensive, that much was clear; the only way I survived six months on $6,000 was because my financial aid paid for my housing and tuition, traveling around Europe while living in Europe is cheap, and my mom was sending me $100 a week for groceries because she was worried that all the jokes I made about not eating so I could afford to party (or financial drinking, as it’s been called) were serious (they were, and often the money that was supposed to be meant for groceries went to more fucking around—you only go abroad like that once in your entire life and I was so not going to waste it). And still, despite the weekly allowance from my mom, I still came home with $82 left in my bank account. Towards the end of the six months I was barely hanging on financially. Basically, what I’m saying is that I knew going back was going to cost me a lot of money, especially since I knew I wouldn’t have the same kind of help that I had the last time around. 

So, I saved and refused to do the math to figure out how much I would need to go back to London for at least two weeks. Well, last night, I did the math—and, oh boy, I am not going back to London until I have at least a few thousand more dollars to my name. That crushing disappointment is what led me to that manilla folder. 

The past few months, going back to Europe was all I could think about; I was graduating in December and this was my last summer to really do whatever I wanted before I had to be a real adult. Granted, I was planning on going straight into grad school, but the statement still stands. 

I took another sip of the cheap-ass red I regretted buying before grabbing my photos from Nice. I slowly went through them, and my eyes misted at the landscapes, the crooked self portraits taken on both disposables and my barely functioning digital, the photos of food, and coffees perfectly placed next to pages of my open journal. 

It was the one place that I had gone alone, in the middle of January, for only three days. It was a trip I took out of convenience (student visa issues) and I had only chosen Nice because it was both relatively cheap and small, but it ended up being my favorite place. The place I named first when people asked where I went, the place I talked about the most, and the place that meant the most to me. 

I put the photos down and opened my laptop. I opened a tab for SkyScanner, one for AirBnb, and one for TripAdvisor and started doing the math.

Flight: $1,214 (round trip)

AirBnb: $2,056

Other Expenses: $3,000

Approx. Total: $6,270

I knew how much I had in my savings and knew I had bonds somewhere from my baptism or some other religious sacrament I was forced to endure that I could cash for some extra money. I had enough for three weeks, but didn’t have much of a financial cushion should I need it. 

I downed what was left in my glass and booked my trip. I felt my hands shaking as I took them off my keyboard to rest them on my cheeks. My face was flush from both the wine and the excitement. I wiped my feet against the carpet, the nervous sweat on their bottoms making me uncomfortable. I was never one for impulsivity; I was a planner, a control freak, a perfectionist—a full blown virgo for fuck’s sake and the longer I sat there, staring at the confirmation page before me, the more nauseous I felt. I refused to let the regret set in, the doubt, and the fear. Instead, I stood up, hopped down the stairs with my empty glass in hand, and upon refilling, announced to my mom that in three weeks time, I would be on a plane to France. 

Earlier this morning, she rifled through the safe in the back of her closet in search of the bonds. When I told her about what I had done, she didn’t have much of a reply—she simply raised her glass to me and muttered a soft, “Jesus Christ”. I knew she was slightly concerned, but also excited for me and I really couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. She was a supportive mom, always, no matter how questionable her children’s choices were (and mine and my brothers’ choices were always questionable). 

Once she found them shoved into an envelope from the ‘90s, I got in the car with my younger brother and went to the bank. 

“You need to chill out. You’re going to make everyone in there nervous if you go in there all shaky and sweaty. You’re making yourself look like a criminal,” Noah said as he put his crappy car in park. 

“I’m just nervous. I know this is a stupid idea, isn’t it? I should just keep saving and go back in, like, another year when I really have the money, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes, “No. I think you need to do this now. It’s all you ever fucking talk about, and honestly, visiting you last year was the best thing I’ve ever done and it was the happiest I saw you. Just stop being a dumb bitch and go in there and get your money.”

Ignoring the “bitch” comment, I pushed the car door open with a loud creaking and clutched the bonds so tight they folded in my hands. 

When it was finally (finally!) my turn to be helped, I stepped up and handed the bonds over, crumpled and slightly damp with sweat, “I’d like to cash these, please.”

[swoonnu]

Lotto - One (M)

Character: Chanyeol x reader Genre: Angst Warnings: Strong language, mentions of violence Words: 3049

White lace perfectly tailored your frame and your hair fell around your shoulders in soft waves. There were hues of pink and gray that adorned the walls of the overpriced ballroom you stood in the middle of. Soft gray linens draped high from the ceiling and fell around the room at various locations.

There sat a flower-draped archway at one end of the room that built by your grandfather two months before cancer took him from you, it was his gift in hopes for a fulfilled life. Your eyes took in the scenery, it really did look beautiful. This day had been perfectly planned for months, no detail was missed. Your sister being the person to thank for that because you could not be bothered to plan every single detail because this wedding wasn’t out of love.

The future nuptials were deemed appropriate by society. He was the son of the wealthiest businessman the town had to offer and you were the daughter of his second in command. Junmyeon was a perfect gentleman and in another world, you would have fallen in love with him easily. He was handsome and caring, unlike most of the men that surrounded your father’s business. But the love you held for your future husband grew from necessity.

“Miss, it is time to seat the guests. Please, let us go back into your dressing room.” Guinevere was the only friend you had if you really thought about it. She had been the most constant person since you were six. She dressed you for school, she fixed your lunches. And she held your hand and cried with you when your mother died when you were seventeen. She was simple and kind, bringing the best of the world in with her soft words.

As you sat alone in your dressing room, you felt calmness rush over your system. This marriage would provide an easy life, provide heirs to the empire your two fathers had built. Being the children of the local millionaires provided a life of ease already but heirs were needed to continue the business. Junmyeon being the eldest, it was his duty and you being the only child, you had no other choice but to marry him. Since you were born, you were destined to be with him, you had always known that. But the love you two shared was built from obligation, not devotion. The future nuptials were set to take place within 45 minutes, followed by an elaborate party with your “closest” 400 friends. Friends was an overrated word; you knew only a handful of the people attending your wedding. As your mind was consumed with the upcoming events, your phone buzzed from the sink.

[incoming text from Chanyeol] I wish you dnt have to marry him

[incoming text from Chanyeol] I wish you would marry me instead

Your face moved into a small smile as you read the texts from Chanyeol. Fate and his complete stupidity had brought you two together. He had decided that it would be a good idea to use his counting skills to steal from your father’s casino.

The guards would have killed him if it weren’t for your intervention. You remembered how he laughed as they hit him, as they kicked him until he was hunched into a ball. You were used to this violence, it had been part of your whole life. You see, your father’s business wasn’t the most ethically sound. Sure, he owned a legitimate casino but the inner workings of the casino were not as lawful. 

Stumbling onto the scene, you begged your father not to kill him. Your father forced his guards off, allowing you to remove him from your father’s office. After cleaning his wounds, you led him out of the building.

“You are a damn idiot.”

“And you are beautiful.”

“Oh shut the hell up.” Your hand grabbed his forearm sharply, annoyance written over your face.

“Well, who knew a pretty girl like you had such a grip.”

“Listen, whatever your name is, I just saved your life. My father would have killed you. No one steals from him, ever. Just..don’t be stupid again.”

“Chanyeol. Nice to meet you beautiful and why’d you save me?”

You looked at him, the answer to his question not being found. Why did you save him?

“Look, don’t get killed because of this. It is not worth it. And plus, any man that laughs while he is getting his ass kicked seems like he has something to prove or something to live for. Either way, I couldn’t let them hurt you too much.”

And with that, you were walking back into the building, never to see him again. so you hoped. But to his better judgment, over the next few days, Chanyeol visited the casino every day, under a pretty obvious disguise.

“You’re pretty obvious.” Brent, the biggest guard in your father’s hoard had just pulled Chanyeol up from his chair, dragging him towards your father’s office.“You’re a dead man.”

“I wasn’t counting. I swear.”

You were sitting in your father’s office, listening to him speak of the quarterly earnings (as the only heir, you were to take over his company when he died, so it was your duty to learn as much as you could). In the middle of him speaking to you, Brent pulled Chanyeol in behind him, “I caught him again Mr. Wang. What should I do?”

Your eyes met with Chanyeol’s, he was truly the stupidest man you had ever met. You had saved his life once, his stupidity brought him back into the line of fire and you didn’t know if you should do it again.

“I am not trying to steal from you, I promise you this. I came here because I want to work for you. I knew your cameras would catch me, so I dressed in hiding. I am here to offer my service to you.” The words coming from his mouth seemed to make no sense to your ears, why would he want to work for your father? “Obviously, I can count. I’ve been doing it for years, last week was the first time I got caught. I’m good with numbers, I have connections in local operations, not that you need them but I am a face of the community here and I know your community image is important. I did not come here to steal from you, I came for a job.”

Your father nodded towards Brent, giving him permission to free Chanyeol. “Hmm…you’re tall, you look strong. Can you fight if needed” Chanyeol only nodded. “How about this, be her guard for a week and I’ll give you a job in my company. Protect her for one week, escort on and off the grounds and home. Provide whatever services she needs and if you can do that, I will find a spot for you in my business. She is my biggest comity. She is worth more than anything I have in this building. Screw up and I will kill you myself. Darling, please allow Mr. –“

“Park.” Chanyeol said.

“Please allow Mr. Park to escort you home. And you know Mr. Park, if you mess up, I won’t need to kill you. She is perfectly capable of that herself. So, watch yourself and I’ll see you in my office in a week to evaluate how you are taking care of her.” As you kissed your father’s cheek, your eyes met Chanyeol’s again.

 “Let’s go.” The annoyance in your voice was hard to miss, you did not need a babysitter and you sure as hell didn’t want to babysit anyone else. You felt like you would be doing the latter.

“I should strangle you myself. You are the most frustrating person I have ever had this displeasure of meeting. Why’d you come for a job here? I told you to stay away and that it was not worth it. This life is hell. Why would you want to be part of this?” You glared at him, anger now taking over your features, more annoyance with yourself. Why were you so upset with him? Why did you care so much what happened to him?

“Truth is, I just wanted to see you. I could care less about working for your father. You saved my life, no one has ever done that for me. So I wanted to see you again.” He spoke sincerely as he opened the door to your car and you realized then, this was going to be the start of something with this frustrating, handsome boy.

As you reread the texts from him, you couldn’t help to smile at the history you have shared over the last two years. After the week trail run, your father hired him full-time. You had requested to keep him on your security detail. He had become your best friend. For the last two-year, you had spent almost everyday together. You ran to him for everything. You told him about wanting to run away from the life you were born into, about how you did not want to be the person your father wanted. There was some point in that time, you had fallen in love with him.

“We should run away. Getaway from this world.” You often found yourself in his bed, naked and tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs with the same plea coming from his lips.

You knew that you two could never be together, your father would never allow it. So, instead, you two silently fell in love under the moonlight hidden away in his flat. Away from looking eyes. You kept your love affair hidden from everyone.

 “I’d provide a good life for you. Maybe not the one you could have, but I would love you. I do love you.” The first time those words left his lips, you froze solid in place. He couldn’t love you, it was too dangerous. it was not possible. Your mind was telling you how impossible this was but the words flooded from your lips before you could react and with an “I love you too” the world seemed to make a lot less sense.

That night was spent surrounded by more love than you ever thought possible. He was everything good the world had to offer.

Chanyeol worked hard for your father, he wanted him to see how good of a man he was, how he could deserve you. Even after the proposal broke headlines, you and Chanyeol continued to love each other until your father found out.

[text to Chanyeol] I know ur here somewhere

[incoming text from Chanyeol] I’m outside

[text to Chanyeol] u should leave

Your father had found out and your world fell apart.

“I know you are seeing Park. Y/n this ends now. You know the deal.”

“Yes, father. But he is a good man, he loves me and I love him. I want to marry him, I want him.”

“If you do not end this, I will end it for you.”

That warning was all you needed to end things with Chanyeol, you couldn’t bear another interaction with him. The love you shared was real. It was beautiful and it would get him killed.

“Y/n, please. Don’t leave me. We can figure this out. I’ll stop working for your father, I-I’ll get another job. Please.” As he stood in front of you, begging for you to stay, you felt your heart break at his words. You knew this was for the best but your heart hurt too much to believe that at the time.

“Chanyeol, you knew this was doomed from the start. We can never be together, not really. I am set to marry Junmyeon. And once I do, I will not cheat on my husband. You knew this from the start.”

“You don’t even love him! He doesn’t love you. Please.” As he took your hands in his, it took everything in you to not let go of your resolve.

“No! Leave, don’t call me again. I don’t want to see you anymore.” As you pulled your hand from his, he retreated into himself, hurt stringing itself over his handsome features.

Without a word, he was gone. You did not cry; you did not yearn for his return. You watched the true love of your life walk from you and you did not care. You were saving his life, after all.

He wore a black suit accompanied by a gray skinny tie. His dark hair was slightly pushed back from his face, a small strand fell in front of his eyes, just enough for you to notice. You would be a liar if you denied how truly beautiful he was. All the eyes were trained on you as you made your way to your future husband and in any normal situation, you would have run from the attention but your father held you firmly in place. The vows were simple and kind; promises of commitment and love, only a few guests knew the true purpose of the marriage.

Only a few knew you were married to someone you did not love for the sake of your family’s name. The first kiss was sweet, you had to admit but there were no feelings attached. It did not make your head spin, it did not make your bones feel like paper. It did not make your heart ache for more. Junmyeon knew what to say and how to act, no one the wiser. After the ceremony ended, the party began and everyone was ecstatic. Everyone but you of course. You had no noticed his presence until after the first dance. As one of your guards, his job had forced him to attend. He had watched the entire charade play out. This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but, as you sat next to your husband, you dreamt of a life with another man. A man who was staring directly at you.

“Please, excuse me, darling. I have to use the washroom.” With a quick kiss on your husband’s cheek, you excused yourself.

Once locked in the washroom, you felt a sense of panic rush over your system. You did not think he would show, much less watch the entire ceremony. As your reflection caught your attention, you hardly recognized the person looking back. You were not one to dress so elegantly. You wanted to take everything off and run away. Run as far from this idea as you could. You wanted to love him, to love your husband. To have a happy marriage, but you knew it’d never be so.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Your heart jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Please go away.”

“Y/n let me in, please.”

“Chanyeol, please don’t.”

You reluctantly opened the door to face him. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Leaving him was harder than you would’ve thought and this was not making it easier.

“Y/n. I have not stopped loving you. I have not stopped wanting you, needing you. We are good for each other. As cheesy as it sounds, you complete me. You are everything and I can’t enjoy my life if you aren’t in it.”

“I left you, take the hint. We cannot be together. Especially now that I am married. If you don’t stop, they will kill you. Please, just stop. For me, please.” Your eyes pleaded with the man in front of you, begging him to let you go.

“Run away with me. Leave this life and be with me. We can forget everything. We can escape and be together, happily. Don’t waste your life in a loveless marriage. Pick me.”

“Chanyeol, I think you should leave now.” Your husband’s voice interrupted your thoughts, fear taking over your system. Sure, Junmyeon knew of your love for Chanyeol. He knew that you two had been together, he was a smart man after all. “Leave or I will force you to leave. You are upsetting my wife and I don’t appreciate that.”

“Y/n, please.” Junmyeon and Chanyeol exchanged glances. Even though Chanyeol towered over Junmyeon, he took the hint and his resolve faded. “Just, treat her well. She deserves everything good. She is the Sun.”

Tears began to find your eyes as he walked from you, knowing this was it.

“I know this is not what you wanted for your life and I know I will never be what he is to you. But, I will treat you well. I will provide a life you deserve.”

Junmyeon was kind, you had to admit that to yourself. He would be a husband that treated you well, provided for his family but that was it. You would never love him the way it matters. You took his hands in your, “Thank you”.

The two you walked back into the ballroom and into chaos. Chanyeol was being pulled away from your father, screaming incoherent words at him. The room had emptied by now and as Brent pulled his holstered weapon at Chanyeol your heart stopped and before you could stop yourself, you were running to him.

“No! He’s going, please father. I’ll make him leave.” Instinctively, you stepped between Brent and Chanyeol, protecting him. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Your father nodded, instructing Brent to lower his weapon. Your hands found their way to Chanyeol’s face, both of you crying. “You have to stop this. You have to let me go.“

“I can’t.” His entire body trembled as your arms wrapped themselves around his frame.

“For me, keep yourself alive. Don’t contact me again, don’t look for me. Run far away from this life. Do what I could not. Have a full life, with a woman who can give you what you want. Give you a family. Please, for me.”

“I love you.”

“I know and I love you. Now, go before they kill you.”

As Brent escorted him out of the building, you hoped for peace. You hoped for his life to be worth it. You hoped that your life with your husband would be all that it should be. Above all, you hoped Chanyeol would stop loving you because you were saving his life after all.