#like i get he's a fish out of water but like how am i understanding the rules of this world faster than he is

[physalian]

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3

Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.

Part 1

Part 2

1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)

Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.

There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.

My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.

She was standing /// She stood

He was running /// He ran

Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.

There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.

For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.

Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).

Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.

He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.

2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place

I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.

She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)

Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.

He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.

To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.

3. Lacking flow between sentences

Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.

Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.

From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.

Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet—that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.

This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.

4. Getting too specific with movement.

I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.

A ridiculous example:

Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.

Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:

Jack shoves on his running shoes.

*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.

This also happens with multiple movements in succession.

Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.

Or

Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.

Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.

Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.

If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.

—

These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!

[nochepsicodelica]

Suggestive

"Tojiii," you squeal when he picks you up, before using his back to shut the car door. You lean forward and take a long whiff of the cologne he spritzed on the collar of his shirt. "Mmm... you smell so good. You trying to seduce me?"

He chuckles at the way you go back and sniff around his neck, like a dog. "Is it working?"

You inhale deeply once more, sighing exaggeratedly before responding. "Uh-huh. Want you to fuck me. Ugh, Toji, baby, i'm ready for you," you say, getting a head start by kissing his neck.

"Nah, pretty girl. Can't do that to you, tonight." He pins you to the door to keep you balanced as he fishes for the keys in his pocket.

"What?" You say, pausing the movement of your lips, your mood quickly deflated.

"What?" Toji repeats, looking at you as he turns the key in the lock. He lifts you off the door before opening it, keeping his eyes on yours.

"Am I not fuckable? You really don't wanna do me?"

"What are you even talking about, ma?" He shuts the door, locking it before carrying you to the bathroom to help you out like he usually does after a night out with plenty of drinks at your disposal.

"You..." your eyes start watering, enormous tears quickly forming and gliding down your cheeks. "You said you don't want me."

"That's not how I meant it, baby. Don't cry."

"What. Ever. I don't care anymore. Just... just put me down," you say, pushing at his chest.

"We gotta get you ready for bed," he says, setting you down on the edge of the sink. He grabs the pack of makeup wipes from the drawer you told him you keep them in and pulls a wipe out. "Close your eyes."

You do as he says, but only because you're stuck there until he moves out of the way. "I'm..." you sigh, heavily. "I'm s-sleeping on the couch, tonight."

"Mm... and why's that?" He asks, while focusing on wiping off the mascara from your eyelashes, and the trail that made its way down your cheeks. He's not concerned for what you said, because he knows for certain that that won't be the case at all.

"'Cause you don't love me. You've made it clear that you don't want to touch me. If we sleep in the same bed, my leg might graze yours." You laugh. "Who knows what'll happen if that happens. I'm surprised you even wanna be this close to me, now."

Toji sighs, throwing out the spent makeup wipe. He rests his hands on the counter, on each side of you, before leaning forward and placing a kiss on your lips. "Just got even closer, mama. What are you gonna do?" He laughs at your widened eyes, and when your expression contorts to one of sadness again, he can't help but maintain the amused grin on his face at how quickly your mood shifted.

"Be sad," you respond, softly. "You don't wanna make love to me? How can you kiss me and not want more?"

The sound of your voice breaking softened him up a little more. That and the insufferable look of hurt in your eyes. "Hey, look at me," he says, cupping your jaw to manually bring your gaze back to his. "It's not like that, at all. Don't cry over this, sweetheart." He runs his thumbs beneath your eyes, brushing away your returning tears. "You know I love you and I want you all the time, but I'm not gonna touch you like that when you're drunk." Your pretty eyes are killing him with how sad they look. Your cheeks are reddened and warm from the mix of the alcohol in your system and your emotions, and your lips are trembling. "Baby, you can't even walk straight. I'm not gonna take advantage of you. Stuff like that is only done by shitty people. You understand?"

"No," you choke out through a sob, breaking open the dam of your emotions.

"Of course you don't," Toji says, a soft smile taking over his features as he picks you up again and carries you to the room. He sets you down on the bed, propping you up against the pillows so you don't fall over. He can hear your sniffling subside as he rummages through your drawers, searching for something to change you into.

"You wanna wear shorts or just one of your really big shirts?" He asks, spotting your favorite oversized t-shirt. You don't answer, keeping your attention on your hands, letting him talk to himself like he's a crazy person. He calls for you, again, nothing more than a "ma", just incase you don't answer again. As he expected, more silence.

"Oh, so you're just not gonna talk to me, anymore?" He asks, turning to look at you, catching the way you shake your head slightly, still not looking at him. He grumbles to himself about your little attitude, before turning back to the dresser. He closes your drawers and opens one of his, fishing out one of the black shirts he always wears, before making his way back to you.

"Arms up," he instructs, grabbing onto the hem of your blouse. You sluggishly roll your eyes and lift your arms, allowing him to pull it off. He unfolds his shirt and scrunches it up so that he can facilitate the process of getting it on you. "Alright, put your arms in," he says, when you just sit there, unmoving. Again, your attitude shows as you follow his instructions, but the second your arms go in the holes and the material of the normally short sleeves extends to your forearms, you gasp.

"Your shirt?" You ask, enthusiastically. "It's your shirt?!" You ask, again, with the most lovestruck look on your face.

Toji snickers. "Yeah, baby. That's my shirt." Your eyes are filled with so much light, it's ridiculous how little it took to get this reaction out of you. You're literally giggling to yourself over a shirt, and he can't see it as anything short of adorable. "Alright, alright. Let's finish up so we can go to sleep."

You're a lot more willing to listen to him, now that your mood is boosted. You unbutton your shorts and lift your hips to slide them off, handing the article to Toji so he can put it in the dirty clothes hamper.

"Gonna go get some stuff from the kitchen. Be right back," he says, glancing at you before leaving the room. Not even two minutes later when he returned, you were already fast asleep, quiet breaths flowing past your lips. You laid on your back, your arms folded above your head. Toji shut the bedroom door before walking over to your nightstand to set a couple of ibuprofen tablets down beside a glass of water. He swiped his thumb over the corner of your lips, collecting the small patch of drool that glistened on your skin and wiping it off on his sweats. He went back to turn off the light, and quickly made his way to his side of the bed.

He turned you onto your side, earning a few irritated whines from you due to the disturbance. "I know, I know," he murmurs, pulling his shirt down to cover your exposed hip. He stayed up a little longer, to keep you from shifting onto your back when you stirred. His hand stayed firm on your waist, preventing you from moving much at all, and occasionally he got to laugh through his nose at your nonsensical sleep ridden mumblings.

[neonsbian]

rowoons character in tomorrow is so annoying god

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[chimielie]

oh my god, they were roommates

part 2 to and they were roommates. no cws, just silliness.

you're not talking to tooru.

he's not sure how you manage it so effectively. you eat all your meals in your room while he's home, except for when you manage to sneak from there to the door while he's in the bathroom. his only clue that you've gone out is that you leave your bedroom door open when you do, really hammering home how empty his life suddenly is.

"even when we're in the same room," he sighs, resting his cheek on his fist. "it's like trying to grab a fish out of the water. i turn around or blink and poof! gone!"

"your sleeve is dipping into your drink," says his date. "and i really think you need to discuss this with your roommate. at home. alone."

tooru waves goodbye forlornly as they stand up and walks out of the restaurant, leaving behind a half-eaten ball of rice and a broken man.

"you are like a sad, sad," akaashi says, pausing to really linger on the word sad, "wet cat. please stop bringing your dates here to mope about—to them. you are forming bad associations between our business and your terrible romantic etiquette."

akaashi keiji is a mangaka now, or an editor for one, anyway; he works at onigiri miya (tokyo location) on the side because it's the only way he routinely leaves the house; tooru brings his dating drama here to brighten up what must surely be a terribly boring life.

"what would you do without me, akaashi-kun," tooru stretches his arms high with a languid sigh that makes akaashi worry that he has comprehended none of his words. "wouldn't you be so miserable if you didn't have me to bring romance and excitement to your life?"

"i have a boyfriend of several years," akaashi says, which is rude to remind tooru of while he's in such a vulnerable state. "i have plenty of excitement with him in my life."

"inconsiderate!" tooru snorts. "please break up with him to show me solidarity."

"i will not be doing that." akaashi picks up the nameless and now-vanished date's plate and takes a bite out of the leftover food.

"understandable," tooru nods, "that's very reasonable. i just don't know what to do, or how to fix it, or what i did wrong."

"you come in here every other night to whine about what you did wrong."

"do not."

"do too," akaashi sticks out his tongue at him. there's a grain of rice stuck to his lip. "you spent several months going out on dates trying to make your friend-turned roommate jealous—during which, I'll note, you basically exclusively talked about the person you were and continue to be obsessed with—then initiated... romantic physical contact, then ran away. because you have the attachment style of a stray cat."

"ah, akaashi-kun," tooru says. "are you saying i get around?"

"i am saying you are lurking outside the window and begging for attention and then biting the hand that feeds you when you get it.”

“oh.” tooru is quiet for a moment. “can i get the check?”

“it’s on the house if you’ll just go home and talk to your roommate and never come back here with another date.” akaashi says, finishing off the onigiri.

“deal.”

your room is empty, your bedroom door ajar when he comes home. mournfully, tooru sits on the bed, reminiscing over the hours he'd spent gossiping with you here.

he'll just wait for you to get back. when he used to take you dancing—with your other friends, but you'd wind your arms around his neck and he'd run light hands over your waist, your hips, and you would look at him like no one else even existed—you always wanted to leave before midnight. it's ten-forty-nine now, according to his watch, so he's sure you'll be back before long.

you get home at two-oh-four. you had never seen the point in staying out longer when going home and chatting over a bowl of cheesy noodles with tooru was so much more appealing—you didn't want to dance with anyone else anyway. now, though, you don't want to be home, and you have something to prove. to who, you're not sure, but you find yourself staying out later and later.

even though you always return home alone. you'd thought about really upping the ante, about moving on as abruptly as possible, but you couldn't. it felt like going too far in this petty revenge game. after all, you still—

you stop short, dropping your shoes on the floor. the devil is in your bed, lying on his side, knees tucked to his chest to fit his absurdly long frame. his breaths are even and deep, his face peaceful.

"oh, tooru," you sigh, and climb over him to tuck yourself against his warm side.

you blink your eyes open slowly, sleep still gleaming in the corners of your vision. there's a weight on your hip and something that smells really, really good surrounding you, nearly lulling you back to sleep.

"oh, please don't," says a voice you haven't heard in days. "my arm's circulation has been completely cut off. i may never serve again."

you jolt away from the soft source of warmth, which you realize belatedly is oikawa's chest.

"what happened?" you say, swiping at your face with the back of your hand.

he looks frustratingly perfect as always, brown hair rumpled, eyes soft like you aren't in the biggest spat of your friendship.

"i was waiting for you," he admits, leaning on his side and casting his eyes down, his lashes shadowing his high cheekbones. "because i wanted to apologize, to be clear. i must have fallen asleep, and then i woke up, and it was like—"

"yes," you cough. "i see. um."

"i'm sorry," he says. "hey, look at me. i'm really sorry."

"for what, oikawa?" you laugh nervously.

"for being stupid," he rolls one shoulder in a shrugging motion. "for trying to make you jealous and instead just being, like, a complete fucking clown during all of it."

"make me jealous?" you say, blinking at him.

"please don't look at me like that," he says, scrubbing over his face with the hand that's not propping up his head. "it-you make me nervous."

"we've been friends for years," you say, still apparently lost. "how can i make you nervous?"

"you always will," he laughs, but it's strained. "look—i like you. probably more, but i'm trying not to scare you—any more than i already have, i mean. i'm not sorry for kissing you, is what i mean. i should just—i should probably go."

"wait," you say firmly before he can untangle himself from your sheets. putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing yourself up to meet his lips, which are soft and dry and parted slightly with surprise.

the kiss is warm and lingers, even after you pull away. tooru stares at you with dazed eyes that make you shy, dropping your own. his voice is quiet but hopeful, contrasting his words in tone when he speaks.

"what the fuck?"

[rose-pearls]

Early morning

Summary: a secret early morning rendez-vous is crashed by a sleepy Percy.

This is the first time I am writing for Percy Jackson, but I have been loving the serie so far and I am reading the books so hopefully you like this! Requests are open!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (Open for every fandom)

The sun was starting to rise as two figures moved towards the lake, you could hear their giggling in the distance, one figure trying to shush the other but in vain.

“Luke, common we have to be quiet.”, she whispers, and the boy tries in vain to hide his beaming smile.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t stop seeing Mister D’s face while he was sleeping.”, he whispers, and the girl does try to not laugh but, in the end, she fails, and a giggle escapes.

“He sure was fashionable.”, the words make Luke laugh louder and you slap him softly on the shoulder to quiet him down.

“Common, let’s get closer to the water.”, he whispers before taking your hand and bringing you to the shore, smiling as you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this sooner, this week has been hectic.”, you whisper after a moment, but the boy shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing you closer.

“Don’t worry, I know that Percy was your priority particularly with Clarisse on the hunt for him.”, he says in a teasing tone, and you roll your eyes.

“It is not funny! That woman scares me sometimes, Percy is thinking of hiding in the ocean for the rest of his life.”, you tell him and Luke snorts.

“I can already see him sassing the fishes.”, he says and at this you can’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot.”, you say with a fond smile on your lips.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot.”, he whispers before bringing you into a loving kiss, it feels good to have him this close again after a long week of only seeing each other for a few moments. 

The kiss quickly deepens, and you can’t help but want to bring him closer to you, even if he is already so close that you can feel his heart beating fast.

“Luke.”, you whisper, breathless, at the touch of his lips against your neck, a smirk on his lips as he continues to kiss down your neck.

“Missed you so much beautiful.”, he whispers against the juncture of your neck, and you let out a soft sigh while brushing your hand through his curls.

“Missed you too handsome.”, you tell him, feeling his arms tightening around your body.

“I’ll talk to Percy, I don’t like hiding this from him.”, at your words you feel Luke moving to look you into your eyes.

“Really?”, he seems surprised, and you could understand why, you had told him that you wanted to keep it a secret for the time being when Percy arrived to camp. The boy was getting to know you and soon the two of you got closer making him protective of you, even towards Luke.

“Yes, it will probably be a complicated conversation, but I don’t want to hide anymore.”, a bright smile appears on Luke’s lips before he brings you into a heated kiss.

“What the hell?!”, you hear someone yell, pushing Luke away only to find Percy looking at you with wide eyes, his blue pajamas still a mess from sleeping.

“I can explain, this all a misunderstanding.”, you tell him and even half asleep the boy manages to give you an unimpressed look.

“Really? Please tell me how your lips ended up on his by ‘misunderstanding’”, he says, and you can’t help but let out a scared laughter. 

“Right, Luke and I are dating.”, you tell him, there is a loud silence following your words while Percy seems to try and think your words through.

“Wait. You are dating him?”, he says, looking confused as he points at Luke, the Hermes boy looking a bit scared for a moment.

“Yes, I am.”, you say, trying to look confident and Percy let’s out a breath of relief.

“Oh, thank god, I thought you were dating Clarisse.”, his words make Luke, and you look at him weirdly.

“Wait you thought-”

“You thought she was dating Clarisse?!”, Luke yells and Percy throws his hands in the air.

“She didn’t want to go hide in the ocean with me to hide from Clarisse or agree to throw her into the nearest dumpster, so I thought she liked her.”, he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world and you have to try to not laugh or scream at your brother.

“Percy, I didn’t want to hide into the ocean because I am with Luke and also because it would’ve been pointless. And throwing her into the nearest dumpster wouldn’t have made the situation better.”, you tell him, trying to reason with him.

“No, but at least it would’ve shut her up.”, he says under his breath, and you hear Luke snort under his breath, making you glare at him.

“Now that you know that I am not dating Clarisse, are we alright?”, you ask him, feeling a bit scared at the reaction of your brother.

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, even if I do say I don’t want you to date him you will go and hide with him to do some weird couple things.”, he says, looking slightly disgusted at the idea, making you roll your eyes.

“You like Luke, you told me yourself.”, you tell him, and Luke tries to smile widely at Percy, but your brother doesn’t seem impressed by it.

“I did, until I found him with his tongue down your throat.”, the words make the three of you cringe and you shake your head.

“Percy, please.”, you try to look at him with pleading eyes and after a moment your brother let’s out a sigh.

“Fine. But if you hurt her, I will make sure that you drown in this lake and that no one can ever find your body. Is that clear?”, Percy says, and Luke seems scared for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Completely, I promise I won’t hurt her.”, he says and Percy nods slowly.

“Good, now let’s go back to sleep. In your own cabin.”, the young boy says while glaring at the Hermes boys making you laugh softly.

“Yes dad.”, you say teasingly before following your brother and leaving a still scared Luke behind.

“I’ll see you later!”, you whisper to him, and he manages to send you a wink before you have to turn towards your cabin.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

may 2024 twst manga updates~

***This includes spoilers for the Episode of Savanaclaw, Episode of Octavinelle, and the 4koma!***

AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LILIA SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK SO GOOD HERE 🤡 I love how Silver and Sebek are constantly shown flanking Lilia, it really enhances the bodyguard/knight vibes! Every time Lilia appears, he always looks like he's having so much fun. Lil' guy is living it up in every panel! Especially when he appears upside down to spook Ruggie.

efbiuSIUBDBYypvfW9wpWD THIS SHOT IS SO GOOD??????? ?I'M LIVING FOR CATER MAKING SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK LIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE AS HE HANGS ON THEM.............. .... . . . . ....... .. .... .. . . . . .. ..

Ruggie's despair is delicious 🤤 He's thinking about all the events that led up to this point and about how that will now all go to waste. Now that I think about it and I have the visual right in front of me... That's the same thing Leona felt every time he got knocked down for his efforts. The parallels, man...

Well, fellas... Looks like it's probably Overblot Leona time next chapter. A detail I love here is that, from Leona's perspective, all the faces of his dorm members are sorta blotted out... which is interesting seeing as how it was stated that Mrs. Rosehearts' face was intentionally blotted since she is considered the source of Riddle's trauma + the light novel tells us that Leona fears seeing hope and desperation for a better future in others because it might motivate him to try again, thus prompting another failure or rejection... 😭

Palace servants: Young master Leona's magical power is so strong, it's scary!! Leona: Damn, they don't understand me! They judge me before they even get to know me. If I were the older brother, they wouldn't be saying this stuff. Also Leona: [see image above]

MALEWIFE MODE RUGGIE????? 😭 What a contrast to the Ruggie in the Episode of Savanaclaw who is really going through it…

Love the detail of Yuuta and Grim helping out with chores in the background! It shows that they’re trying to pull their weight while they stay over.

Babe, wake up... New Yuuta and Leona reaction images just dropped from the Episode of Octainvelle... (I am Yuuta whenever new TWST content drops and my non-Twstie friends are Leona whenever they're listening to me blab nonstop about the updates--)

Yuuta once again proves to be my favorite of the current Yuu iterations 🫶 He’s just so sweet and hopeful!

We actually get to see the class photo!! Although the resolution here is very grainy. I'm really hoping that we get to see a close-up after Azul's OB!! I'm dying to see what he looked like as a kid!

fbhlavfuoeqy8vevif;fa fai THIS CHAPTER REALLY MADE ME LIKE ACE?????? ??? ? ?? ? It's probably because he gives the same flawless liar (even though the acting is sooo overexaggerated) energy as Jade in book 4. There's a really fun scene where he's distracting the Atlantica Museum guards and really hamming it up. He looks so cute while he's being (fake) upset yet so enthusiastic!!

This was my favorite part!! Ace excitedly talks about how he's always been interested in merfolk since he was little (lie) and how he saved up all his money to come to this museum (also a lie)... THEN BRO HAS THE AUDACITY TO POSE LIKE THIS AND TALK ABOUT WANTING TO BE A PART OF THAT WORLD????? ?? ???? ? ?? ? ?? ARIEL WHO>?????? ?? ??? ?? ? ?I o NLY KNOW TRAPPOLA NOW

One of the 4koma this month is about Octavinelle going on a camping trip! Azul wants to study the stars for money-making ideas/inspiration.

When talking about auroras, they're reminded of the Diasomnia students and think about making an aurora-colored drink to sell to them. The Octatrio also star-gaze and talk about aliens + selling octopus to them. They discuss the idea of filling a space suit with water and fish to they can walk in space too.

The other 4koma is about Trey brushing the mouths of his mandrake (as they have no teeth but dirt). He insists that everyone should have a clean oral cavity.

You can even tell which mandrake is Trey’s because it has a bunch of toothbrushes stuck in its pot 🪥

Jamil was planning on using his own mandrake to make an ancient remedy for relieving toothache. Trey is uh… interested… and attempts to test out the healing toothpaste for himself (Jamil of course stops him).

Trey… you’re the most NORMAL one, why are you like this OTL

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Can you please please please make the pastor’s daughter x rafe little blurb a longer fic omg and it would be so good if Rafe gets her pregnant and her parents find out and either kick her out so she moves in with him or they make her marry rafe you def don’t have to use my ideas because honestly any way you write this it would be so good ❤️

ℱ𝓊𝒸𝓀ℯ𝒹 𝓊𝓅

a/n: ooo!! Love this sm.🫶🏽

warnings: pregnancy, mostly fluff ig? morning sickness, mentions of hook ups, sort of an arranged marriage?? But they both actually secretly like each other.

lovely div by @/xxbimbobunnyxx !

You felt sick, miserable as you rolled around in your bed. You let out a groan, feeling the bile rise back up into your throat.

You leaned over the bed and grabbed the bowl for what felt like the tenth time this morning.

“Oh, poor thing.” Your dad had sighed, bringing in more medicine for you to down. But nothing had made you feel better.

When you went into the bathroom, it was then that you had realized you were late. You swallowed, a thought popping into your head before you pushed it back down.

You looked over to the window, the window that showed you the balcony of Tannyhill. You spotted a figure on the balcony. You turned back quickly, shaking your head, and turning the sink on, washing your face with the running water.

You sighed heavily, turning back to the window and looking out. A part of you knew what you needed to do. But you hoped that you were wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” You mumbled, looking down at the lines. “F…” the words died in your throat, a sob escaping instead. You held your head in your hands, glancing out the window.

It was a couple hookups. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You walked over to Tannyhill, wiping away any stray tears, the test hanging heavy in your pockets. You raised your fist, rapping on the door.

You heard a voice talking from inside. “Yeah, y- Look, it’s all taken care of, swear.” He murmured. You knocked on the door again, fishing for the test. You held it up, waiting for him.

“I’m fucking coming!” He shouted this time, opening the door, phone held to his ear by his shoulder. His gaze went to your face to your hands, holding something out in front of you.

His eyes widened, mouth going agape.

“L-listen, Barry, I gotta go.” He mumbled, taking the phone from his ear and hanging up, looking at you again.

It took longer to tell your parents. Weeks for you to finally get the courage. Rafe sat next to you, looking down at the ground, arms folded together.

“Let me get this straight, you’ve… been having premarital sex… underneath this roof?” Your father asked, voice raised. You nodded, looking down as well.

“Honey…” your mother spoke, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking at you with sympathy.

“I know. I sinned…“

“I didn’t raise you like this.” He was disappointed.

“I know, daddy.” You mumbled, tears falling onto your sock covered feet. Rafe pulled you closer to him, trying his best to comfort you silently, a hand on the small of your back.

He sighed, pausing before speaking again. “You understand… that the church is gonna speak, right? This affects me. Us.”

“I know.” You repeated.

“Unless… unless you got married.” He looked at Rafe. Both of you snapped your heads up to look back at your dad.

“Daddy, what do you mean?” You asked the man.

“I’m sorry?” Rafe asked with raised eyebrows, asking him to repeat.

“Would your dad be opposed to you getting married?” He directed his question to Rafe.

“N-no.” He mumbled. “But, sir…”

“And do you love my daughter?”

Rafe looked down at you, you turning to look at him. Rafe huffed. “We haven’t really… gotten that far yet.” He looked back to your dad, avoiding your gaze.

“Well… You two’ll get married. No one needs to know.”

“Wait, daddy, I- I- I don’t even know how far along I am, how am I supposed to hide it for that long?”

“I’ll arrange everything to be done by next weekend. The church will host it, and I’ll ask for donations and everything.” Your dad spoke, standing up and leaving the living room with your mom.

You swallowed, looking back to Rafe. “Fuck.” He grumbled out, his hands going down his face. He exhaled.

“It’s not all bad… is it?” You asked him quietly.

He looked back down at you. “You’re a… a good girl, I’m a fucked up guy. It’ll never work. I’m gonna mess everything up.”

“Now we can be fucked up together.” You mumbled to him, a chuckle escaping his mouth.

[harryslittlefreakk]

after the storm

summary: y/n wakes up in her sworn enemies bed, with a city-wide storm keeping her trapped there. in the time that she’s stuck with harry, can they overcome their differences and build a friendship? 🫢🤷

warnings: smut (oral f receiving, unprotected unrealistic shower sex) some angst, typical enemies to lovers

wordcount: 6.6k

a/n: you guys who likes my lil graphic? its diy!! i’ve been slowly working on story for a long time now so i hope you all enjoy! 🤭

my masterlist is here 💓 love u all

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

The headache pounding behind your eyes was the first thing you noticed that morning. Shortly followed by the realisation that you weren’t in your pyjamas, or your bed, and there was a man snoring next to you.

You didn’t even remember coming home with anyone, let alone someone who looked so attractive, albeit from the view you had of the back of his head. There was something familiar about the bedroom, though you couldn’t put your finger on what. The clothes folded on the dresser were the same as every other man’s, the lingering scent of woody aftershave new and yet so familiar. Perhaps it was the memory of whoever you’d met last night, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew this man.

You needed to explore, the leftover alcohol in your system urging you to get out of bed and figure out whose bed you’d woken up in.

It didn’t take much detective work, however, because as soon as you sat down on the toilet, the man in question barged into the bathroom. “Oh, morning.”

No way. No fucking way. “What are you doing here?”

“This is where I live.”

“Why am I here?”

“Why do you think?” he smirked.

Harry fucking Styles. Your sworn enemy, the worst man you’d ever met, the worst man you would ever meet. And you were wearing his clothes, after sleeping in his bed. Your skin itched just thinking about it.

“Fuck off,” you growled, throwing the toilet paper at his stupid, sleep-clouded face.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he laughed, staring down between your legs as he closed the bathroom door. All you could do was let out a hoarse scream. How had an innocent Friday night turned into this?

You looked yourself over in the mirror when you were done, Harry’s t-shirt hanging loose on your body. You kicked the door open, glaring at his reflection as you splashed water over your face. “How do I get to the station?”

He shoved his phone in front of you, a severe weather warning flashing up on the screen. Public transport was down, taxis and delivery drivers ground to a halt as the rain and hail pounded the pavements.

“Brilliant. I’ll walk then,” you sneered, barging past him. “Just wait it out,” Harry told you, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I can walk.” What did he not understand about this being the last place you’d ever choose to be?

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

Realistically, you knew you couldn’t make the 45 minute walk across town in this weather. You hadn’t even taken a coat out with you, and borrowing clothes off Harry just meant you’d either have to see him again, or hang on to his clothing. Neither was appealing to you at all at this moment in time. Still, you were prepared to risk hypothermia if it meant getting away. The idea of being trapped with anyone while deathly hungover was horrible, but with Harry it became your own personal hell.

He followed you to his bedroom, watching from the doorway as you shoved your belongings back into your tiny shoulder bag. “My fucking phones dead,” you groaned, throwing your head back.

“Just wait until the rain eases off. I’ll drive you to the station later.”

“I don’t want to be here, Harry. What do you not understand about that?” Just the way he was watching you was making your blood boil. You weren’t even an angry or spiteful person, but somehow Harry triggered some red hot rage that usually lay dormant deep inside of you.

He was opening and closing his mouth, scarily similar to a fish. One of the deep sea weirdo ones, with extra fins and holes for eyes. His eyebrows knitted together as he searched desperately inside his dim brain for something to say.

“We didn’t sleep together,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“We didn’t sleep together,” he repeated.

You froze, not quite sure how to respond. You hadn’t slept together. Half of you wanted to thank every God in existence, the other half wanted to punch Harry right in his smug face. “Then why the hell did you make me think we did?!”

He shrugged, tiny hints of regret showing on his face. If you were less pissed off right now, you’d consider this a miracle. “Was funny five minutes ago.”

You glared at him, incredulous. “You swear we didn’t?”

“Promise. Look, jus’ let me shower and then I’ll stay in here out of your way. Don’t even have to talk to me for the rest of the day.”

Finally, you nodded, resigned to your fate. “Fine.”

“There’s a charger next to the sofa,” he told you, slipping past you to grab some clean clothes from the dresser. “So you can tell your boyfriend you’re here.”

“Idiot,” you groaned as you walked away, slamming the door shut behind you.

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

You hated to say it, but Harry’s apartment was actually nice. Much nicer than yours. You had no idea what he did for work, but it must have been something good if he could afford a place like this. There was a skylight over the sofa, practically putting you in a trance as you watched the rain drumming against the glass.

You’d been flopped on the beige sofa for what felt like years, your hangover slowly easing off but your current situation not getting any easier. Why, out of all the places you could’ve been stranded, did you end up here? You’d been racking your brains for hours, and as far as you could remember, Harry wasn’t even at the bar. If he had been, he would’ve come over. He’d stopped hanging around your group so much once you’d started bickering, he was irritatingly respectful of your space. But whenever you saw each other, neither of you could resist the temptation of a little sparring match to spice up the night.

You were so deep in thought that you hadn’t even noticed the lights turn off, the tv suddenly flicking to a black screen. It was the deep rumble of thunder that bought you crashing down to Earth, a tiny whimper slipping out when you heard it. Rain and hail were little more than an inconvenience, but you drew the line at a thunderstorm. You’d loved them when you were younger, glued to the windows with your dad as you watched the lightning illuminate the sky. But something changed one day, a new fear set in after a nightmare. You were sitting on top of a hill, a picnic laid out in front of you, when the clouds suddenly turned bright orange and lightning started striking the houses below you. You’d watched in horror as every strike set fire to the roofs, the entire neighbourhood going up in flames and getting closer and closer to you. Then you woke up in a cold sweat as the lightning came nearer, the next strike sure to take you out had you not bolted upright in bed.

“Harry,” you called out as loud as you could manage. You might not like him, but you’d rather have his company than sit through a thunderstorm alone.

When he trudged into the room, you were sitting upright on the sofa, the blanket pulled over your head. “What are y’doing?” he asked, yanking the blanket off of you. “Don’t like thunder,” you told him, squeezing your eyes shut as it boomed overhead again.

“Did the power go out?”

You nodded, watching from squinted eyes as Harry searched across the kitchen counters for something. He walked back over to you with a lighter, and started to light the candles scattered across the room. “Wanna watch something?” he asked you, pointing to his collection of dvds. “You pick,” you told him, too terrified to even comment on why he still owned dvds in 2024. You’d have to save that for later.

He picked one, pushing it into the tv’s dvd player before coming to sit beside you and setting it up. You glanced over at him, your current proximity making your heart race more than the thunder and lightning could ever. You had some sort of problem when it came to men acting as saviours. You were too into rom-coms, too romantic to not develop a sudden and unexplainable mini crush on your knight in shining armour. And clearly, now you had gone a little bit mental.

A clap of thunder shook the room again, and you smacked a hand down on Harry’s arm, your nails digging into the skin. “Harry,” you whimpered. He put his hand on top of yours, grounding you slightly. “It’s okay,” he smiled. “Did no one ever tell you it’s just God rearranging the furniture?”

You loosened your grip as the thunder passed, desperately trying to get a hold of yourself. “No. And besides, that doesn’t help. A reason for the loud noise doesn’t make the loud noise any less scary,” you told him, brows knitted as you looked between your hand and his face. He was about to shoot something back, but lightning illuminated the room, your expression changing quickly back to one of fear.

Harry threw himself down on the sofa behind you, tugging at the hem of your (his) t-shirt. “Come here,” he beckoned, pressing play on whatever dvd he’d chosen. “Why?”

“Because it’ll take your mind off the storm.”

“No.” He was holding out his arms to you. Clearly he’d had a funny turn and was expecting you to snuggle with him. Sleeping in the same bed against your free will was one thing, but actually choosing to cuddle with Harry was something you’d have to bring up with your therapist later. And yet, the offer was somehow tempting. But you couldn’t control your face, and somewhat-accidentally sent Harry a scathing look.

“Fine. Enjoy the storm then,” he grumbled, standing up to stalk back to his room. You stayed silent as he left, waiting until his bedroom door slammed shut to throw the blanket back over your head.

Only, a few minutes later he was back. You could feel his stare burning through the blanket, and he was standing there like a giant dork when you peeked out. “What if I’m scared and I need a hug?”, he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You couldn’t deny Harry was funny, even when you were bickering and snapping back and forth, he’d always make you laugh. And that was more infuriating, because why are you laughing at his jokes when you’re supposed to be annoyed? “Fine. But only because you’re scared.”

You leaned back into his arms, and he was right. It was a welcome distraction. Instead of thinking about the storm and anticipating the next rumble of thunder, you were actually quite content. Although one thing was playing on your mind. “Harry, why do you have the notebook on dvd?”

You craned your neck to look back at him, shifting slightly in his arms so you could see his face. “S’my favourite,” he shrugged sheepishly. “And what time will your boyfriend be home?,” you mumbled, recoiling when he jabbed a pointed finger at the tip of your nose. “Quiet please,” he told you. You turned your attention back to the tv, settling back into Harry’s body.

He was comfortable. That was one more thing to add to your list of irritatingly good qualities about him. He was a good cuddler, caring, funny.. it seemed like that list was growing longer with each minute you spent with him. You pulled his arm tighter around you as thunder crashed overhead, softer this time. “Getting further away now,” Harry whispered, his thumb stroking the fabric of your shirt as if you’d laid this way a thousand times before.

Your eyes were growing heavy, your heart beating in time with each gentle movement of Harry’s thumb. You were too warm, too comfy.

And then a loud vibration practically shook the sofa under you. “Fuck. Sorry,” Harry said, darting to shut off his phone. You rubbed your eyes, still groggy and disorientated. Naps always made you feel all weird and out of sync. You turned around slowly to lay on your back, glancing up at Harry in your peripheral vision. “Missed the whole movie,” he told you, eyebrows raised as he nodded toward the tv. The power was back on, the lights bright against the layer of fog clouding your eyes. “Gonna call them back,” Harry murmured, holding up his phone as he climbed over you.

You were perched on the edge of the windowsill when Harry came back into the room, watching the raindrops drip down the glass. He went into his fancy little wine fridge, pulling out a bottle of red. He held it up to you, eyebrows raised as he silently asked if you wanted any. You nodded before turning your attention back to the rain. The thunderstorm had passed now, the skies finally beginning to lighten up despite the heavy rain. Harry came to join you with two big glasses, as if he’d poured as much wine as he could fit into them.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Thinking back, you didn’t actually know where it all started. Harry was nice enough the first time you’d met, then somehow rude and arrogant the next. He was the cousin of one of your friends, and started to worm his way into your group when he moved to the area. He was harmless, but he knew he was a pretty boy. Every night out was spoiled by him lingering by the bar, flashing his dimpled grin at any girl who caught his eye. He’d buy her a drink, then leave hand in hand with her, always looking back to see if you’d noticed his exit. Everything he did made you roll your eyes, every glance at your legs when you wore a mini skirt, every time he tried to snake an arm around your shoulders as you laughed with the group.

“You’re arrogant.” Proven by the fact that only arrogant people would ask why they’re disliked.

“No one else has ever told me that.”

“Maybe they’re not as truthful as I am.”

He laughed at this, swilling the wine around his glass. You watched as it stained the sides red, the blood colour dimmed under the grey skies. “If I were that bad, y’wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not here by choice.”

“No, I mean you wouldn’t have ended up here at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry’s eyes were squinted when he looked back at you, some kind of secrecy flashing across his pupils. “Let’s call a truce,” he told you, holding out his free hand for you to shake. “Just for however long this storm lasts, you have to play nice.”

“I am playing nice. You’re the one who played tricks on me.”

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair when you didn’t reach out to take it. Your gaze was fixed on the window, seemingly uninterested in what Harry was trying to offer. Truthfully, a truce sounded nice to you. You were wasting so much energy on acting indifferent to him. But with the way he looked after you during the worst part of the storm, the way he held in the giggles you knew he wanted to let out as you cowered in fear of the thunder, you were scared you might actually end up liking him. The horror. The last thing you ever wanted to find out was that you’d wasted years hating him, mentally criticising his every move, just to find out he’s a good guy after all.

“Raindrop race,” he said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“We do a raindrop race,” his head nudged toward the window. “If I win, we call a truce. If you win, you decide if you want a truce or not.” Harry had his usual silly, toothy grin spreading across his cheeks. There was something annoyingly cute about his smile, the way his eyes crinkled and his dimples carved deep into the skin. “Fine,” you laughed.

“Okay, pick yours. This is mine,” he pointed to a tiny droplet near the top of the window. Your eyes gazed over the drops near Harry’s, before settling on one just to the right of his. After Harry yelled “go!”, you followed yours with a pointed finger, trailing down the surface of the window as you spurred your little raindrop on. You didn’t actually care who won, but you were far too competitive to let him win.

They were neck and neck, Harry’s tiny raindrop somehow collecting water from those around it to become almost the same size as yours, and surprisingly just as fast. There were little childlike giggles tumbling past his lips, his free hand balled into a fist as he cheered his raindrop on.

Yours took over suddenly, surging forward before it came to rest on the windowsill. You couldn’t hold in your laughter, watching Harry’s face fall in disbelief. “Looks like I get to decide our fate,” you teased, a smirk resting on your lips.

Harry chuckled, his eyes searching your face for any sign of what you might do. “Truce please,” he encouraged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine. Since you asked so nicely,” you grinned, holding out a hand for him to shake. Harry took it, bowing his head to you before hopping off the windowsill and padding into the kitchen. “Last of our supplies,” he told you, holding up one final bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. “Best make it count then,” you laughed, downing the last sip left in your glass.

Harry went back to the sofa, and you trailed after him, plopping down on the corner. “Tell me something about you,” he said, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa. “I don’t know. You know me,” you shrugged, turning a little to face him. “Fine. What was your first impression of me?”

You shrugged again, gaze falling to the wine glass in your hands. “Thought you were funny. Seemed nice enough,” you told him. Harry laughed, a bitter kind of chuckle. “So where did it all go wrong?”

“Harry, even you have to admit that you were a douche.”

“How?”

“How?!” You couldn’t believe he was asking how. “You’d saunter around the bars, always scouting for which girl you’d take home next. You didn’t even greet me the next time you came out because you spotted a girl behind me.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

You scoffed. “Not fucking jealous. It’s gross.”

He held up a hand, faux-stern expression on his face. “Truce! We have a truce. Don’t wanna break it already.” He had a point. You’d called a truce not even ten minutes ago, and you were already getting riled up again. “You started it,” you mumbled, always reduced to the mindset of a child when you bickered with Harry.

“Don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything,” he smirked, miming zipping his lips. You turned away from him, deciding it was better to sit in silence and try to calm down than risk getting into a full blown row with him when you couldn’t even leave.

After a while, Harry set his wine glass down on the coffee table, getting your attention. “You really don’t remember how you got here?” he asked.

“No, Harry.” Honestly, you didn’t. The last thing you could recall was stealing a cigarette from someone on the street outside the bar, and then a freaky flash forward to waking up next to Harry.

“I was walking past O’Connells and you were on the street alone. All your friends had left and you couldn’t get a taxi, they kept refusing you because you were drunk,” he started explaining, setting his near-empty wine glass down on the coffee table. You were finally paying full attention to him now, an ear turned towards the sound of his voice as if he was telling the most compelling story of all time. “I don’t know where you live, you kind of stopped making sense. So I brought you here,” he shrugged. “Sorry.”

You took a moment to fully digest his words, his kindness to you a tough pill to swallow. The tears that formed on your lower eyelashes were unstoppable, regret bubbling up through you. You’d been a dick the entire day, and while it was a little bit deserved after he made you think you’d slept with him, all he’d done since was show you kindness and care. “Don’t have to be sorry Harry. I’m sorry,” you whispered, pulling your glass up to try and hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He placed a gentle hand on your knee, his touch warm on your bare legs. You hated wearing trousers indoors, a t-shirt, panties and socks the only way you were ever comfortable. Yet now you felt too exposed, too vulnerable in front of Harry. “It’s okay,” he told you, his tiny smile laced with tenderness. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft and shaky. “For looking after me,” you finished, finally drawing your eyes up to meet Harry’s.

He moved a little closer, bringing his arms up to wrap you in a hug. Only as he started to embrace you, you felt something change in the air. The wine had made your brain fuzzy, your senses heightened and yet muddled. You were struck with an overwhelming desire to kiss Harry, to make it right between the two of you, and that’s what you did. You turned your head just a little, closing the distance between you tentatively, waiting to gage his reaction. But he pulled back quickly, his arms dropping limply into his lap.

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, scurrying across the room before you could do anything to embarrass yourself further. You leaned back against the breakfast bar, eyes fixed on the rain drumming against the window. All you could do was replay the way his lips peeled away from yours, the full body cringe making you want to curl up in a ball and scream.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you, his gaze silently trailing across your body. You looked back at him, eyes meeting amongst the almost palpable energy clouding the air. And then he was striding over to you, wrapping a strong arm under your hips and lifting you onto the countertop. He paused for a minute, an unsatisfied yearning in his eyes. He reached out with a gentle hand, pushing some hairs from your face as the other snaked around your waist. And then his lips were on yours, slow at first as if trying to taste and explore you. But with every lick of his tongue the kiss deepened, his movements becoming more urgent and passionate. Harry’s hands were roaming across your body, trailing goosebumps over every curve. The heat was intoxicating, the burn almost physical as you wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck, drawing him closer to you.

Your legs were tight around his hips, pulling his centre close to your core. It was electric, so much being spoken through silent mouths. Every touch, every flick of his tongue had you melting into Harry, the walls you’d built up crashing down around you. “Should’ve done that a long time ago,” he drawled as he pulled away, running his thumb along your swollen, wine-stained bottom lip. You nodded in agreement, still dazed from the way he kissed.

He grabbed a hold of the hem of your t-shirt, eyes locked on yours as he waited for you to tell him to stop. When nothing came, he pulled it off of you, throwing it to the floor behind him. You watched the way his eyes darkened as they trailed over you, the goosebumps that dotted your skin disappearing under the heat of his gaze. “Want to know why I act that way with you?” Harry asked, still surveying the sight before him. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger when you didn’t respond, his free hand pulling your chin upwards to look him in the eye. You nodded again, totally silenced by the way he was looking at you. His lips found your collarbone, kissing and suckling at the skin. “Because,” he murmured against you, pausing to lick a warm circle around your nipple.

“I,” he suckled at the bud, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Wanted,” he was moving lower now, one hand caressing your other breast as he licked down your ribcage.

“You.” He sunk down in front of you, mouth lingering right at the waistband of your panties, eyes fixed on yours. Your chest was heaving as he bought a hand up to it and pushed you back, the marble countertop cold against your skin.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of Harry’s gaze. His fingers traced slow circles on your stomach, igniting a heat inside of you that melted away any other feeling. You were totally powerless, totally at his mercy as he peeled off your panties, eyes never leaving your face.

“Couldn’t handle this sweet pussy not being mine,” Harry told you, voice husky as he ran a light finger through your glistening folds. His hot breath against your entrance had you squirming, his lips so close and yet not close enough. He was admiring you, almost salivating - until you suddenly snapped your legs shut. “I haven’t showered,” you whispered, suddenly hyper aware of how unclean you felt. “Don’t care,” Harry said, pushing a hand between your knees to open you up for him again. “Just means you’ll taste sweeter f’me,” he groaned, finally making contact with your pussy.

His thumb brushed over your clit, replaced instantly by his mouth. He suckled at it, the sudden sensation drawing an almost carnal moan out of you.

His tongue swirled around your entrance, collecting your juices on his tongue as he moaned into you. Your hands tangled themselves in his curls, the burn of your fingernails digging into his scalp only spurring him on. True to his word, he was licking and lapping at your folds as if they held the sweetest nectar.

You were dripping for him, dripping on him, the lower half of his face coated in your juices. It was the wine, you told yourself, and the forced closeness to him. Not him, not the fact that he was giving you the best head of your life.

“Waited so fucking long for this,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss and nibble around your inner thighs as his thumb rubbed over your clit. You were squirming under him, your legs heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah?” you panted, fingers pulling harshly on his hair as his mouth suddenly moved back to your pussy.

“All mine now though,” Harry smirked, his words vibrating into your centre. “All your- fuck,” you cried out, unable to control yourself as he slipped a finger into you, his tongue still working at your core. He added another, then another, filling you until you were bucking into his mouth. He found your g-spot with ease, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched you writhe and moan.

“I’m-” you started, cut off by a ripple of pleasure moving through you.

Harry released your clit from his mouth with a pop, his fingers unrelentingly thrusting into you as his mouth snaked up your body. “You’re what?” he grinned, his face only inches from yours.

“I’m gonna-”. This time Harry cut you off with another kiss, your juices warm on his tongue as it danced around your mouth. You wouldn’t pair pussy juices with red wine, but on Harry’s tongue they tasted heavenly.

He pulled away, eyes dark as he watched you squirm and buck under him. “Gotta say it for me,” Harry told you. You felt like you were buzzing, hot pleasure vibrating every part of your lower body. “I’m gonna come,” you cried out, the ball of heat in your core threatening to explode.

As soon as you said it, Harry’s lips crashed to your neck, suckling and biting at the soft skin. It was the final bit of stimulation you needed, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you finally reached your high. “Good girl,” he repeated, working you through your orgasm until your back collapsed down, flush to the countertop.

You were panting and heaving as Harry pulled you to sit up, hissing as the cold of the stone hit your clit. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your body threatening to crumble if you didn’t support yourself.

“Come on,” Harry whispered, lifting you up. He carried you over to the sofa, resting you on his lap as he sat down. “You okay?” he asked as you stayed silent, totally numbed by the strength of your orgasm. You just stared at the identical triplets of him in your vision, trying to focus on the real one before you. His eyes were raking over your features, your puffy fucked-out eyes and swollen wine tinted pout. Your cheeks were pinked up to match your lips, tiny beads of sweat on the bridge of your nose.

“Thanks,” you whispered, a tiny smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. “For the orgasm.”

“Anytime,” Harry laughed, running a hand up your back. “M’glad we’re friends now,” he told you, moving you over to sit next to him.

“Do you do that with all your friends?” you giggled, swatting at his thigh.

“Oh yeah. Welcome to the club,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

“D’you want a shower?” Harry asked eventually, breaking the quiet. You turned back to face him, still dizzy as your eyes tried to focus on his face. “Desperately,” you groaned. “But I’m still a bit wobbly.”

Harry laughed, pushing your messy hair from your face. “M’gonna have one then,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before standing up.

You listened out for the sound of the shower turning on, but Harry’s footsteps had stopped just outside of his living room door. You looked over to him as he stood frozen in the doorway. “What was that asshole’s name?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to remember.

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Harry, seriously. I’m naked right now and you want to me to think about my ex?” You rolled your eyes at him.

He shrugged, “can’t remember his name.”

“Jamie. Why are you even talking about him?”

“Because you could’ve had this a long time ago if you hadn’t showed up with him.”

You grabbed one of the cushions, launching it in his direction. He strode over to you, picking you up and flinging you over his shoulder as you shrieked. His hand landed a heavy blow on your ass, raucous laughs blending together in the silence of the night.

Harry set you down in the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind you. “Throwing isn’t playing nice,” he tutted, leaning around the shower screen to turn it on. “So now you have to be punished.”

“Oooh,” you teased. “What’s my punishment, a shower? Or are you going to drown me?”

“Y’have to shower with me. While m’all sexy and naked.”

“That’s not a punishment,” you frowned, watching as he stepped under the water. Harry had always had a decent body, but he’d gotten pretty jacked up since you saw him last. If anything, showering with him was a reward.

“Mm, but you have to keep those hands off me, you horndog,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, following him into the shower. He side stepped past you to let you under the water, trying his hardest to avoid your touch. “I’m not going to molest you,” you told him. “Going to have to touch once or twice since we’re in a tiny box.”

“Fine. Just no feeling me up,” he shrugged, mockingly shielding his cock from you.

“Was it worth it?” you asked Harry as you stepped away from the water, passing the soap to him. “Was what worth it?”

“All the fighting, all your jealousy,” you poked your tongue out at him. “Now you’ve finally got in my pants, was it worth it?”

Harry stepped up behind you, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. “How am I supposed to answer that, sweet girl?” he drawled, pulling you around to face him.

You stepped back, pressing yourself into the cold tiles. Harry stayed close to you, his wandering hands finding a home on your hips. “Can’t say it was the easiest chase, can’t say I really enjoyed it,” his fingertips were trailing up your body again, his thumb pushing past your parted lips. His face hardened at the sight, imagining something other than his digits between your pout. “Would do it all again though.”

You bit down on his thumb, grinning as he pulled it from between your lips with a yelp. “You don’t have to fight me for three years just to sleep with me Harry. Could always just ask,” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Is that right?”

You nodded, watching as his eyes moved over your face. “Or get down on your knees and beg me. Either works,” you shrugged. He chuckled, shaking his head at you.

Harry stayed silent as he lathered up the soap between his palms, hungry eyes fixed on you. “Turn around,” he finally told you, putting the beige bar back in the shower tray. He pulled you back into him, his length solid against your ass. His wandering hands finally put themselves to use, rubbing the soap across your body. He paused at your sternum before one hand wrapped around your throat, the other cupping the curve of your breast. Your breath caught, a tiny moan echoing around your mouth as he squeezed lightly, his cock twitching against your skin.

He took his hand from your breast, reaching between your bodies to push his cock between the tops of your thighs. His tip brushed your sensitive clit, your teeth clenching as electricity surged through you. “Can I please fuck your pretty little cunt?” Harry growled, using his free hand to wash the soap from your body. He was throbbing at your core, his cock likely painfully hard by now. “Please, Harry,” you whimpered.

He grunted at your neck, pushing your upper body forwards until his cock lined up with your entrance. He was nudging into you, your pussy dripping and ready to welcome his girth. You’d never needed more like this before, though you’d never felt as good as Harry had made you feel. He released his hold on your throat, one hand lowering to circle your clit as the other splayed across your lower belly, his fingertips digging into the plushy skin.

Your hips rut into his hand, a cry tumbling from your lips as the quick movement forced his girth into your tightness. Your already shaky legs could’ve buckled right there, your body barely able to hold itself up around Harry’s cock splitting you wide open. It took Harry by surprise too, a shaky moan echoing off the walls as he bottomed out inside of you, the extra lubrication from the water pushing him deep into your core. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, stilling as he caught his breath. “Y’okay?”

You moved a hand down to hold onto his wrist, silenced yet again by his cock. “More,” you whined, pussy throbbing as he started to fuck into you hard. You’d skipped the slow, figuring each other out sex. It was as if you already knew what the other needed. Harry was fucking you, his thick red tip tearing you apart as you both raced for another orgasm, each thrust sending you closer to Heaven. The steam and the sounds of the water pounding the shower floor clouds your mind, unable to feel anything except the fullness Harry’s cock gave you.

You were getting close, the burn in your core spreading down the tops of your thighs, before Harry suddenly pulled out. Just as you were about to question him, Harry spun you around. “Want to see your face when you cum f’me,” he panted, sliding one arm under you to lift you against the tiled wall. He slipped back into you with ease, the new angle forcing his cock into places you’d never even known you could feel so much pleasure in.

Your hand tugged at his wrist, pulling his fingers back up to your neck. Harry let out a dry chuckle, his fingers wrapping back around your throat with ease as he slammed into you.

He was a fucking vision. His wet curls hanging down into his eyes, the shine of the water on his tattooed body. Just the sight of him staring at you with those hungry eyes was enough to have you gasping and panting. “Harry, I’m-” you started, a loud moan cutting you off.

He picked up his pace, hips snapping into yours with the deafening slap of skin on skin. “Not yet,” Harry grunted. “Gonna cum w’me.”

Your walls were already tightening around his shaft, hips bucking into him uncontrollably. You bit down hard on your lower lip, nails digging half-moon shapes into the thick muscle of his shoulders. “I can’t,” you whimpered, throwing your head down onto him. “You can, and you will,” he told you, removing his hand from your throat and instead using it to pull your chin up to meet his eye.

You nodded, face contorting as you tried desperately to ignore the fire coursing through you. “Please, Harry,” you whined. Your walls were clamped around his girth, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he got closer. “Come,” he commanded, wrapping his free arm under you as his legs started to shake. You howled as you finally let go, the stars in your vision exploding like fireworks. The tiny shower cubicle was suddenly full of carnal moans and cries, Harry’s lips spitting out your name over and over and over again as he shot ribbons of white-hot come into you.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, before Harry slowly let you down onto the floor. He held you up as your legs shook, a light hand brushing over the finger marks left on your throat.

“Are you still on birth control?”

“No. Should I not be holding my legs up right about now?” you asked, watching as his eyes went wide.

Harry pulled his arm from under you, ready to let you collapse on the floor in his panic. He screwed his face up tight, a quiet “fuck, fuck, fuck,” mumbled under his breath.

“Relax, I am. Sorry.” you told him, a tiny smirk playing on your lips. He reached out and pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as you yelped and smacked his hand away. “Serves you right, bastard.”

He re-washed between your legs quickly, a gentle hand washing away the remains of your juices pooled between your thighs. “Better?” he asked, reaching behind you to turn the water off. “Mhm, just need a good sleep now,” you told Harry. “Oh yes, need to go to bed and think about the beautiful friendship we’ve ruined,” he smirked, handing you a towel.

You dried yourself off before following him to the bedroom, pulling on the clean t-shirt Harry handed you. He was humming a silly tune as he ruffled his hair in the mirror, watching your reflection expectedly. “Used to annoy you when I hummed,” he said, climbing onto the bed to join you.

“Still annoys me plenty,” you told him, pulling the duvet over your legs as you settled back into the pillows. “Just too fucked out to care right now.”

part two ??

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

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[manikas-whims]

how Zayne from Love and Deepspace will react when he finds out you're on your period..

You get a call from the Akso Hospital and are suddenly requested to pay a visit.

You don't understand what's happening but leave your work desk all the same.

The moment you arrive and speak to the receptionist, she informs that you have a check-up scheduled with Dr. Zayne for today.

You're slightly surprised and confused because despite being a little messy, you do keep up with your own schedule, and you clearly don't remember having any such check-ups.

Regardless, you head towards Zayne’s office.

[moments later]

You give a knock on the door to announce your arrival before walking in.

Zayne is already putting down the documents in his hands and by the time you reach his desk, he's scrutinizing you, as if searching for any signs of something off with you.

“What is it?” You ask in frustration. There's a load of mission reports waiting at your work desk that you need to finish and submit this week, and frankly you don't have much time right now.

Zayne merely raises a brow as if offended by your curt tone.

“Sit.” He commands.

You deliberately sigh loudly before taking a seat. “I don't have any check-ups today, Zayne. Why did you call me?”

“Correct me if I am wrong but it must be the second day of your menstrual cycle?” He states so calmly as if making an absurd remark about the weather.

You're quite mortified for a moment. But then mortification is replaced by annoyance. Doctor or not, your periods are your problem and Zayne isn't supposed to comment on how you deal with them.

You narrow your eyes at him. “That’s..none of your business.”

“It is since your captain called up.” Zayne supplies calmly.

“Jenna?” You're confused. Why would she?

“She informed me about your not so peaceful conversation with a guy from the Data Analysis Department.” He speaks, his lips slowly curving up into a smirk.

“Nero was the one who wouldn't shut up!” You tell him.

“And she also informed me how you choked the life out of your coffee mug using your evol. That's a misconduct if I've ever heard of it.”

Okay misusing your evol wasn't exactly right. But crumbling your mug with it did help with the stomach cramps. Even if just a teensy bit.

By this point you’re gripping the armrests of the chair a little too tightly. His knowing smirk isn't helping either. Combining all that with your mood swings enrages you even more.

But before you can lash out at him. Give him the same treatment you gave Nero and your coffee mug. Say something that you'll definitely regret later on, he leaves his chair and comes to stand right in front of you.

“Take the rest of the day off.” He says. Neither a friendly suggestion nor a doctor's advice. Just an outright order. And you don't like that.

“I can’t. I have reports to finish.”

He sighs before fishing something out from one of his desk drawers. Then, he pours a glass of water and comes back to you, offering the said glass along with a pill in his other hand.

You immediately recognize the painkiller and shake your head. “I don't take those.”

“You should.” He says emphatically, nudging the items towards you.

“Absolutely not!” You feel your voice crack a little. You have a lot of work left to do. You really need to get going.

But Zayne isn't deterred by your words. He steps even closer, and speaks in a softer tone. The same one that he uses only on rare occasions. When he's being earnest to you.

“Not taking the painkillers doesn't make you stronger than the rest of the women in the world.” He puts the glass in your hand, and offers the pill again. “You must acknowledge your pain, and work to overcome it in the most efficient ways.”

You bite your lip because he's only being reasonable. You must look like an absolute brat to him.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out a little shaky from holding back your tears as you accept the pill and swallow it.

“Good girl.” He pats your head. “Now let’s get you home.”

You agree to take the remaining day off but he doesn’t need to waste anymore time on you. He must realize that he has his own share of work to do. And you are a responsible adult. You can’t always rely on him. You can do things on your own despite the hardships.

“I can go by myself.” You mumble.

“I know. But let me help. I have the right to help you.”

“You have the right to?” Once more, annoyance begins flaring up in your head. “On what account? Being my personal physician!?”

He smiles softly. Genuinely. “On account of being your friend.”

His admission stuns you into silence and you avert your gaze.

How can he be so kind? He's being so unfair! Now you look even worse of a brat.

You feel ashamed for behaving the way you did.

“Come on.” He beckons, offering a hand.

You hesitate for a moment before putting your own palm into his bigger one.

His fingers curl around your wrist instead and he tugs you forward, helping you stand, his arm now coming to wrap around your shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

He's already directing you out of the room and locking its door when you murmur. “Zayne?”

“What is it?” He asks as he tucks away his glasses into the pocket of his coat.

“Sorry for getting mad at you.”

He scoffs. “It’s understandable in your current predicament.”

You watch him fish out his car keys and speak again. “No seriously. Thank you for everything you do. You're more than just a friend.”

He cocks his head to the side but you still catch him smiling wide this time. “The feeling is mutual.”

Here it is! Hope y'all like it. I'm still new to writing for Love and Deepspace so bear with me 🥹

Rafayel version coming soon!

AND THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

» MASTERLIST «

[muffinlance]

Sokka is captured aboard Zuko's ship. At some point during Tea & Interrogation with Iroh and Zuko, he lets slip that he's the son of Chief Hakoda.

“Chief Hakoda?” the Prince of the Kill It With Fire Nation repeats, like his brain is as stupid as his face. Or like he just realized he’s taken a high-value hostage, redeemable for one (1) ransom against an enemy leader.

“Did I say Chief Hakoda?” Sokka laughs, nervously. “I meant, ah—”

“Shut up, peasant,” the prince shouts. And then sort of… chokes on his own words, getting redder and redder.

---

“Perhaps a break, Prince Zuko?” says Uncle, like this is… like this is the tea-time social he’s set the table for. 

Zuko is in the hallway with the door slammed behind him before he can think. Thinking. Thinking is a thing he needs to do, and Uncle’s proverbs only ever leave his thoughts feeling twisted around, and—

And that is not a peasant that sacrificed himself, to give the Avatar a chance to flee. That’s a fellow prince, or whatever the Water Tribe would call him.

---

“So,” Sokka says, spinning the teacup between his cuffed hands contemplatively. “How much poison would you say is in here? And what kind?”

The old man is sputtering indignantly, but Sokka is very seriously considering taking his first sip. If it’s laced with something to loosen his tongue, well, can’t get much worse there. It’s not like he knows where his dad is. Or anything useful. Certainly not more useful than handing the Fire Nation the son of their fleet’s leader. And if it’s something deadly, well...

He doesn’t know what his dad would do or give to get him back. But it wouldn’t be good, for the war or the world or their tribe.

He figured he’d die, when he’d shouted at Katara to go, take him and go. He hadn’t realized how much worse this could get. Was getting. Because the son and heir of Fire Lord Burn Them All was out in the hallway, thinking. 

---

Zuko thinks. About what his own father would do, if he were to receive a ransom letter. The disappointment. The… repercussions. 

---

“You’re what?” Sokka asks. 

“I am releasing you,” His Shoutiness repeats, through clenched and grinding teeth.

“Huh,” Sokka says, and takes another sip from his cup, because oh, this is hallucinogenic tea. Good stuff. “Care to explain that?”

---

No, Zuko wants to shout. But this is the fellow son of a world leader. Zuko hasn’t had many friends, and he’s not looking to add the Water Prince to that atrophied number, but. 

But he could understand.

“You stood and fought when you could not win, for a cause you believed in,” Zuko says, and he doesn’t know why Uncle suddenly looks so pained. “I will not demand trinkets from your father for your return. If he hears of this, it will not be from me. You will be released at the nearest neutral port.”

---

Like an undersized fish, Sokka does not say. 

“That is… very honorable of you,” Sokka says, and doesn’t know why the prince looks like he’s been gutted.

[skygemspeaks]

do you guys want to hear about my sanji's siblings love him au?

who am i kidding, of course you do

anyways

ichiji, niji, and yonji run on facts and logic. they're programmed to have loyalty to their family, and sanji is part of that family, even if he can't do everything they can do.

and the way they see it, it just makes more sense for their loyalty to lie with the brother they shared a womb with for nine months over the father that insists on abusing all of them.

it's not sanji's fault that he's weak and has emotions. that's an objective fact. he was born the way he was. it could just as easily have been any of the rest of them that were different.

so sure, they'll follow judge's orders, because they have to, because it's what they were born to do, but they're not gonna take any of the shitty things people do or say about their brother, least of all their father

sora adores her children. because judge hurt them terribly by taking away their free will, but that's none of their fault, and they're trying in the only way they know how. she's patient with them, trying to teach them about morality and the importance of doing the right thing

at their age, they don't really understand it, but they do notice that people are more likely to do what they want with little fuss if they treat them the way their mom says they should

but then their mom dies, and maybe the loss of his wife is what pushes judge over the edge but he lashes out at sanji, because somehow in his mind sanji is the reason for sora's death. if it weren't for the poison she had taken, which had turned sanji into the weakling that he was, sora would still be alive

ichiji and the other two are furious. they hate this empire that their father has built for himself - and that little fact, that they can hate it at all - goes unnoticed by all of the kids

but they do hate it, and with their mother gone there's no reason for them to stay. so they take sanji, and they take reiju, and the five kids escape from the Germa kingdom and never look back

they work whatever odd jobs they can. and then one day they come across zeff - after he had been rescued from the island he was stranded on for months

and this zeff still has both legs and he didn't suffer as much because he didn't have a child to give up all his food for, but he still decides to give up pirating. he lost his entire crew in that storm, and he has no desire to sail the seas without them

so he had set out to fulfill his dream of building a floating restaurant for himself. he's living on an island in the east blue, and he comes across these five children. one of them, sanji, latches onto him as soon as he finds out that he's a chef. slowly, over the months, their relationship develops and grows stronger.

zeff isn't an idiot, he knows there's something wrong with these kids, but he doesn't pay it much mind. he treats them like any other children, with all the kicking and scolding that entails

normally ichiji and the others wouldn't put up with this kind of treatment from anyone, but they see the way sanji and reiju latch onto zeff, the way the two of them follow him like lost puppies and positively preen at any positive attention he gives them, and they decide they'll put up with it.

it's not like the crappy geezer's kicks actually hurt the three of them

so zeff takes reiju and the boys in, even if it means that food will be a little tight until their restaurant gets off the ground.

the 5 of them grow up on the baratie, protecting their home and surrounded by the gruffly affectionate cooks that are drawn to their father's way of life. it's so different from the environment that they had been born into that they don't know what to think. sanji and reiju take to their new life like fish to water, but it takes a little longer for the boys

yonji respects sanji like he respects his other older brothers. he watches sanji, sees the way he loves and hurts and grows. the intensity of the things sanji feels is completely foreign to yonji, but it stirs an unknown feeling in yonji's heart. he doesn't know what it is, but it makes him short-tempered with his brother

by now zeff has been around his kids for a while, and he's more or less figured out what's up. yonji learns from zeff that what he's feeling is jealousy. that he wants something sanji has that he doesn't

which should be impossible.

yonji doesn't feel things.

zeff shrugs and doesn't argue. he just leaves his kid to figure things out on his own.

after that, it happens slowly, so very slowly, but over time, ichiji, niji, and yonji start feeling more and more emotions. their emotions are still pretty dull in comparison to the frightening intensity of what sanji, reiju, and other people feel, but they cherish this new aspect of themselves.

and it turns out that sanji hadn't been the only one affected by their mother's desperate attempt to save her babies. the others had as well. it had just taken a little more work to draw their humanity out of them

by the time don krieg makes the ill-fated decision to attack the baratie, they still don't have the depth of emotion that other humans do. and maybe they never will. but they have enough to know that they will destroy anyone who even thinks of threatening their father's treasure

and they have enough to shed tears when their brother - a piece of their hearts - sets off with the future king of the pirates

it hurts, to have him leave them. and that hurt is something they wouldn't have had to feel if they had remained the way they were as children

but even that hurt is precious to them

because it's a product of how far they've come, and how much they've gained

[twit-ter-pa-ted]

Yes, Ma'am. - Part Two

pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x afab!Reader

warnings: flirting & poor description of food, i think

overview: You find out why Sanji is known to be the best chef in the East Blue. The Straw Hat reveals his intentions.

a/n: this is turning into a full blown series😭 thank you for the support on the first part, i was so shocked and i am so immensely grateful for everyone who read and enjoyed it. i love you all!

part one — final part

Sanji had barely taken a step into the kitchen when Patty began reprimanding him on how Zeff had kicked him out of the kitchen for the day, but it didn't stop him from grabbing a pan and starting his work.

You waited patiently after watching Sanji disappear into the kitchen. As you waited for your food, your eyes darted to the party you had been dismissing since you first noticed them. You were busy flirting, after all.

The Straw Hat, the Long-nose, the Redhead, and the Pirate Hunter. Their complimentary bread disappeared within seconds of it being placed on their table, courtesy of the straw hat, which led to the long-nose whining about how he didn't get a chance to taste the bread.

Dish after dish arrived at their table as you recalled hearing the straw hat order every dish on the menu, and you couldn't help but wonder how the nameless pirate would pay for it.

In the middle of watching the Straw Hat, whose name, you learned, was Luffy, you noticed Sanji returning to your table.

He set down a plate in front of you as well as a glass of strawberry milkshake.

"Somethin' I've been working on – sauteed True Bluefin over a sweet soy glaze, sided with seared asparagus," he descripted as he set down utensils and motioned at the plate. Then he motioned at the milkshake. At a glance, you could see that it had been done the way you requested it be. It even had a pink and white striped straw to match.

"Strawberry milkshake with a thin coat of strawberry syrup, no seeds, fine whipped cream made by yours truly," he playfully bowed, "and a strawberry to top off a drink as sweet as you."

You smiled as he winked. "Thank you, Sanji."

He refused your utterance of gratitude. "Please, I find it a privilege to have been able to cook for a beauty such as yourself."

He seemed to have no plans to leave, instead waiting to see your reaction, so you began to cut into the fish, your eyes never leaving his as you brought the piece to your lips using the fork.

A burst of flavor overwhelmed your taste buds the moment you took the piece into your mouth. Your usually insouciant temperament slipped for just a moment as your eyes widened.

"It’s good," you managed to say as if it weren’t the best thing you had ever tasted in your entire life.

"Yeah?" He smirked. He knew you were masking your amusement, it was evident on your face that you were. He drank in your expression as you attempted to keep your cool.

You nodded. "It's nothing like anything I've had before," you admitted.

"Thank you, love."

You moved onto the drink. As you went to grab it, Sanji spoke.

"I realized I never got your name," he declared. You paused, simply holding the drink in your hand now.

"Will you be needing it?" You questioned while playing with the fountain glass. His flirty persona faltered with confusion as your tone seemed to have an implication.

"I saw you flirting with the redhead earlier, did you make sure her water came from heaven itself?" You jested, hearing even her crewmates teasing her about the interaction.

He smirked as he was ready to tease, "Are you jealous?"

You only shrugged. "I'm just stating what I observed, darling." Lifting the straw to your lips, your eyes never left his as you took a sip.

You were more of a whiskey on the rocks kind of person, but you had to admit – the strawberry milkshake was far better than good. You couldn’t understand how something so simple could taste so heavenly. There were, in fact, no seeds, and the taste was just the right amount of sweetness that you were looking for, even if you hadn’t mentioned a specific level of sweetness for it.

You think you'd never be able to find words to describe it, just as you had run short of words for the sauteed True Bluefin. "It’s good," oh, please. The two of you knew that you felt you never knew what real food tasted like until you had tried Sanji's cooking – tested out his skills in the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the drink. It was so delectable that it was almost painful.

"I like you, Sanji," You confessed before beginning to cut into the fish in your plate again. "I enjoyed our exchange. I certainly enjoy the dish and drink you've made for me." Sanji opened his mouth to reply when someone shouted from the kitchen area.

"Oi, Sanji! You’re here to cater, not to flirt!" Sanji evidently clenched his jaw.

"Just get back to cooking, Patty!" He turned to you again, his jaw now unclenched and his eyes thinning as he smiled.

You rarely told anyone your name. In your line of business, it didn't really matter who you were or how much they knew about you. It was all in the matter of how cheap or expensive your product was, and how hard you were willing to fight for its worth (and your life).

You told him your name. Just your first name – nothing more, nothing less. It led to less hurt that way, if you knew the least you could about each other.

He repeated your name as if to test how it rolled off his tongue, his tone velvety as he spoke.

"Likewise." He moved slightly, indicating that he was now leaving you to eat your lunch.

"But I do mean every word I say. It's nothing I've said to anyone before is all I'll say, I suppose it's up to you to believe that or not. I do hope you consider coming back here despite how shitty it is." You couldn’t help but chuckle as he deprecated the restaurant he worked at. "I'll be willing to cook you up another meal, if you’re up for it."

You pretended to think about it, but you were already dead set on your answer – "Sure, why not?"

Sanji's smile grew as he began to depart from your table, his eyes never leaving yours until he had to take another table's orders.

"That's the broker pirate hunter?" The straw hat declared with his eyes on you. You whipped your head to face them with a puzzled look.

The redhead's eyes widened. "Hey, not so loud!" She turned to you to find that you were already looking in their direction.

"Not a broker, not a pirate hunter!" You corrected irritably.

"See? I told you." The long-nose attempted to mutter as he lightly smacked the straw hat's shoulder.

"Hey, are you the nameless, bounty-less pirates that defeated Axe-Hand Morgan?"

"Woah, woah. You did – you did what?" The long-nose's eyes had widened. He seemed to be unaware of the gang of pirates he had joined.

"Nameless?" The straw hat echoed. He then stood to approach your table. He held out his sauce covered hand which you only looked at. He retracted his hand when you made no move to grab it.

"My name is Monkey D. Luffy. I'm going to be King of the Pirates!" Your eyes widened at his proclamation, your eyes returning to look into his.

Unlike what you expected from countless others who had declared themselves to soon be King of the Pirates, this Luffy character seemed to have something else other than pure determination glimmering in his eyes. It almost had you believing that he was going to be King of the Pirates.

"So just you wait," he then said your name as if you were close friends, "I'll get my first bounty soon."

He couldn't have been that much younger than you. And yet, something about him made you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"That's my crew, by the way." He pointed at his booth. "That's Zoro, Nami, and Usopp."

"Not in your crew," Nami denied.

"Don't introduce us to the pirate hunter, Luffy!" Usopp scolded him.

"What's up?" Zoro calmly greeted.

"I'm not a pirate hunter. That's a pirate hunter," you corrected Usopp once again, pointing to Zoro.

"Not anymore," Zoro corrected you, too.

"Well, I can see that, given how you're in a pirate crew."

He only scoffed. "Uh-huh, nice to see you again, too."

Luffy seemed to be unaware of the tension between the two of you. He grinned as he came to a realization, "Oh, you know each other?"

"Yep." You and Zoro answered in unison, which caused you to glare at each other before looking away.

"Well?" Luffy questioned expectantly, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You looked at the hand on your shoulder and wondered if the boy had any respect for boundaries. You simply shook your head and decided to return to your meal.

"Oh, come on. Zoro!" He whined as he returned to their table.

* * * * * *

taglist: @inf4ntdeath @x-uno @miloonmetis @angeli-fucking-cat @zzbloody-animezz

thank you for your support! <3

(there will be one more part after this one)

[hazelfoureyes]

Sending in anon because I'm a coward... 😩

I'm a new reader, and I just have to say-- your "a doe in fall" series is just... AMAZING!!

I could go on, and on and on about how much I love it. But what gets me the most is always Alastor's dialogue, because as someone who is also on the aro/ace spectrum, I just get it so much. Especially the subtle hoping that reader can like... Read his mind about how he feels for her, and the weird sort of stockholm syndrome we sometimes develop with ourselves after being alone with only our own company for so long, and it really is, lol, like you just get so used to being alone for so long because you know the idea people have of you, you can't truly live up to, so you don't want to "disappoint" them that you actually aren't like they are, so you just sorta... Keep them occupied at arms length-- Therefore you're forced to adapt to your company being the only love you have for a long time. it's like an obligation.

And when or if the special somebody who understands you comes along, you realize... "Wow, I've been living like this for so long, is this what it feels like to be loved and appreciated, in spite of my oddities, or maybe even in favor of them? Strange..."

Emphasis on the "strange" part because, when you're so deeply entrenched in your own soul, sharing your space for another almost feels more like learning how to swim rather than an instant "click", sparks, fireworks and whatnot. The excitement of the magical "other" has been long since drowned and snuffed out of you.

So, when this somebody who is similar to you, or just simply understands, doesn't try to change you or ignore you, but instead envelopes you and adores you, the appreciation is deep and overflowing. But there's a part of you always pinching your heart, a sort of awareness of something that isn't the case, wondering "Is this a dream? what if it is and I'll wake up and this is not at all what I was thinking?".

Haha... ANYWAY, sorry for the slightly morose and LONG read 😂 But I always think of how similar I am to how you write alastor and it's scary in a way, but comforting (especially since he's my first and biggest fictional crush) except in this case my profession would actually be burlesque. Especially since I work in the exotic dance world. It's fascinating being aro/ace in the SW world, I could go on forever- But yeah, I absolutely love your writing!! Makes me feel less alone in this world. Annnd surprisingly I always feel so sensual after reading, I love love love it!! Reading before work always gets me in the mood to dance and pretend I'm Y/N, lol!!

Much blessings ❤️❤️

*cracks knuckles* listen here babycakes, I eat this shit UP. Exploring Human Ace Alastor is my BREAD AND BUTTER. I go into ESSAYS in the AO3 comments in this 😂

you really understand, which makes me so happy and is confirmation I’m conveying him the way I want to.

Now I’m gonna ramble and echo you basically 😂

I really think Alastor (atleast in this story) feels that excitement and strangeness of how open he can be around Autumn (since she doesn’t have a proper name cuz she’s reader 😂). He’s a fish out of water despite the fact he’s actually being his most authentic self. Like you said, it’s new to him just to be … Alastor. To be honest and upfront. His normal operating mode has been so restricted for so long he’s struggling with how to be himself. And then that fear—- well what if I’m too much? What if I ruin this, when I finally have something worth keeping? He’s never gotten this far and the fear of losing that comfort is terrifying but so is the actual comfort itself. It’s new and foreign.

A deep uneasiness that’s if he fully embraces this he’s gonna just fuck it up and it’ll be his fault this time. Not a misunderstanding or misalignment of needs but a confirmation he wasn’t good enough anyway.

“it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all” he would say that’s bullshit

and because of the situations he’s been in before, he’s never gotten to actually explore physical intimacy in a “safe” environment. He was always going into interactions because he had to if he wanted to keep people around. It was a necessity, not something he actually sincerely wanted to participate. So he tried to keep them happy with other means of affection and intimacy to maintain some safe distance but eventually, always, things would fall apart. At a distance or up close.

that’s why that most recent part was called Learning. Alastor is trying new things to learn more about what he’s okay with or doesn’t care for even offering in the future. Autumn is learning (that night, tho she doesn’t understand it yet) that he’s still figuring out how to meet her halfway (even tho she’s not even asking for that) when he’s used to being forced to meet people where they are. And Detective Brady, of course, is learning he may have found motive for Tommy’s disappearance.

I’m really glad you’re enjoying his portrayal and that you’re resonating with parts of him! That makes my soul hum! 💖 your line of work mixed with your Aro/Ace-ness sounds like such an interesting conversation if we’re honest! That’s a small aspect I love about Autumn. She’s in this field that’s (wrongly) considered to be hyper sexual and full of air headed wanton whores, but she’s the first person to be like “oh! You aren't into this stuff. Let me adjust my expectations. I’ll ask for clear verbal consent, not initiate, and I’m totally okay with never fucking again if it’s for your love and company.”

I work in the SW industry in a sense (Personal Assistant) and one of my biggest pet peeves is all of the shit people project on SWers.

sorry for the essay I could talk about this for ETERNITY

omg and THANK YOU! 🥺💖💖💖💖

Referencing:

A Doe in Fall (Human Alastor x Burlesquer Fem Reader)

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦

[bwabys-scenarios]

After months of Killua making fun of Kurapika for crushing on you, he accidentally calls you “mom” in front of the group. Finally, Kurapika has SOME sort of ammo against him. It doesn’t seem to work for long though, because you laugh it off, honored that he sees you as a mother figure. And honestly, it makes Killua feel a lot better about going back to picking on Kurapika, especially after Gon accidentally calls you mom too.

“Hahah you like (name)”

“Oh, you mean your mom?”

“Nice try, that’s not gonna work anymore. Gon called her mom by accident yesterday, so it’s not THAT out of place. Plus she was happy about it.”

“You got over that quickly.”

“Yeah, too bad you can’t get over your crush as quickly as I got over the mom embarrassment”

When the group meets up to do anything fun, you’re the one that organizes it. Whether that be for a movie, a trip to the zoo, or even a vacation to the beach, you’re sending them all a list of what they need to pack and how much money they’ll need to bring to cover their tickets and food.

At least, you do that for the adults. For the kids, they stay with you so often that you have two suitcases full of their clothes and a list of the products they use.

Killua can’t stand mint tooth paste, so you buy him the bubblegum flavored kind instead. Gon is picky about what shampoo he uses, so you make sure that you get the scentless kind.

When you arrive at the beach with the boys in tow, you already LOOK like a mom. You’re carrying an umbrella and big bag full of towels and are yelling at them to put on sunscreen. Especially Killua, with his pasty ass.

He tries to run away from you, but Gon helps you catch him.

He grumbles as you cover him in sunscreen, calling Gon a traitor. As you do this, Kurapika and Leorio show up, carrying the ice chest full of drinks and fruit you’d packed before you left.

“Hello (Name). I see you’ve managed to catch Killua.”

You giggle. “With Gon’s help.”

Killua turns back, his eyes narrowing.

“Mom, don’t tell h-“

He pauses.

They all pause, everyone except you.

“Hmm? Don’t tell him what?”

Killua literally looks like a fish gasping for air, his face red and barely able to breathe.

“I-you-“

He runs off, dragging Gon behind him as they rush into the water. You can see Gon ask Killua something, the latter responding by throwing him into the depths.

Kurapika lets out a snicker, storing this information for later. “So you’re mom now?”

You shrug, standing up and pulling your dress off to reveal a two piece. His teasing is quieted when you drop your dress onto the ground and stretch.

“I’ve been called mom before, by a lot of people. It’s really not a big deal.”

You hand Kurapika the bottle of sunscreen. “You two make sure you put some on, alright sweetheart?”

You took off for the water. “I’m coming, boys, make some room!”

Kurapika could understand why he called you mom, but that doesn’t mean he would let Killua slide that easily.

As you and Leorio play 1v1 volleyball on the beach, Kurapika and Killua sit next to each other.

Killua KNOWS what Kurapika is going to say. He already knows, yet he can’t get up until you come back and reapply his sunscreen.

“I didn’t know you were a mamas boy, Killua.”

The white haired boy shoots him a glare, his cheeks pink. “Shut up.”

“Why? Am I not stating a fact?”

Killua huffs. He watches as Gon joins your team, saying Leorio was being to hard on you. He wants to join, anything to get away from Kurapika’s smug smirk.

“Missing your mom right now?”

Killua throws sand into his face. This results in the two fighting, getting your dress and towels covered in sand.

When you finish your game, you come back to see the two glaring at each other, wet sand clinging to them as they attempted to clean off the towel.

“I KNOW you two didn’t get sand on my dress.”

You stand before them, your arms crossed over your chest. Right now, you’re giving them the angry mom look, and even Kurapika feels a little scared.

“He started it mom! I didn’t e-“

Killua groaned loudly and slapped a hand over his face. He said it AGAIN.

“I’m sorry I-“

You sigh and pat his head. “Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind you calling me mom. I’m honored even.”

You smile at him and brush the sand off of your stuff.

“Let’s eat, you’re both probably just hangry!”

———————

“Hi mom!”

Gon waves at you from across the store, not even realizing what he’d called you. Killua startles next to him, grabbing his shoulder.

“Gon, you just called her mom.”

Gon slaps a hand over his mouth. “Oh.”

“I told you I don’t mind.”

You appear in front of them, the boys instantly taking the shopping bags out of your hands. “Aww, my sweet boys. I can carry them myself, you know.”

Gon shakes his head. “Aunt Mito said men shouldn’t let a lady carry stuff all by herself!”

“… they’re too heavy for you.”

You laugh and ruffle their hair. “Alright, alright. Let’s go home.”

Killua follows behind you. Home. Your house was home to him, more than the place he’d been born and raised was. You never placed expectations on him, you allowed him to be the kid he was. Although it was a bit annoying when you were too overprotective, he knew it came from a place of care, and he was okay with being babied if it was you.

You really were his mom, weren’t you?

“(Name)?”

You hum in response, peeking at Killua.

“Is… is it really okay if I… call you mom?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? You’re both basically my kids already. Especially with how much you make me worry.”

You rub your face. “Look, I’m getting wrinkles.”

The two laugh, catching up to walk on each side of you.

“Alright, alright. Sorry… mom.”

You smile and ruffle his hair. “It’s okay.”

—————

You get home and ask for them to get the groceries put up while you go to shower.

Kurapika gets home shortly after, shrugging off his coat and placing it on the coat hanger.

He looks into the kitchen to see Gon and Killua sorting through the groceries, the two sneaking a few pieces of the candy you’d bought as they did.

“Your girlfriend is in the shower.”

Kurapika takes a second to process what Killua said before snapping back. “You mean your mom?”

“Kurapika, you sh-“ Gon is interrupted by Killua crossing his arms and blowing a raspberry at Kurapika.

“She said I can call her mom if I want. But you can’t call her your girlfriend, can you?”

The two stare at him in shock. Kurapika can’t speak, his eyes and face turning red.

“You little-“

You step out of the bathroom in one of Kurapika’s shirts and a pair of shorts. “Oh, Kurapika, you’re home!”

You run up to him and give him a big hug, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Did your mission go well?”

Kurapika was already reeling from Killua’s words, and now he was the brightest shade of red he’d ever been. Did you just… kiss his cheek? His cheek? HIS? And you’re… wearing his shirt. Oh god.

“I-um it’s-“

Killua snickers from his seat on the counter. “Who’s the mamas boy now?”

The two start fighting, you confused.

“What does he mean by that?”

Gon shrugs. “Dunno. You should probably just let them fight it out though.”

You pout, but he’s probably right. If you stepped in, they’d just be passively aggressive to each other all night, and you didn’t want that.

“If you two are going to fight at least do it outside, I have breakable knickknacks.”

[luna-lovegreat]

It's all "links meet aus" and "zeldas meet aus", but where's my "companions meet aus"?

I wanna see midna bash fi and navis heads together for annoying her

I mean can you imagine the sheer chaos of all the Zelda companions meeting and going on a journey together? They're all companions/guides! One of thems a talking hat for hylias sake how are they supposed to take initiative?

I think it'd be like Lu where they all just meet up, but can you imagine the chain just somehow finds out this happened (and twilight is just like guys I am so sorry about midna) (but they're also really oddly touched that all their friends met each other too)

Pretty sure midna would be the sort of leader, since the last time she was in a foreign world she just found the nearest dude and started ordering him around. By like halfway through twilight princess she was literally asking LINK to accompany her to get what she needed.

But like. 90% of the group would be fairies. Which can't heal. One is a talking hat who just needs a head? He can't go on midnas cause she throws him off with her magic hair, poor ezlo is just trying to keep up.

They also have these weird green shadows who come around? They don't talk, but there's a rock, a fish, a bird, and a lady who just appear and stab things and shoot wind water fire and lightning.

Also midnas really confused why wolf link just shows up and kills things every now and then (from botw amibo)

Fi is the one who can talk to Hylia and awaken memories and get guidance and information or whatever, but she only does this by ballerina dancing and the others are always pissed at her anyways "WE DONT KNOW WHAT BATTERIES ARE OR A WII REMOTE WILL YOU PLEASE GO BACK IN SWORD FORM ALREADY" "I detect there is a 90% chance you need a key to open this door" "wow. Your perception is unparalleled fi."

Also there's a boat. A boat. Who is also good at taking charging since he's a king, which causes some friction between him and midna, since she has to grab him by her hair to move him half the time.

And with the fairies. Again. They all offer advice mainly. And with the fairies a lot of their main role is speaking and getting attention and pitching in? They come on an intersection and there's a chorus of bells all shouting the same directions. Ezlo is trying to cover the kings ears from his place on the boats head

Also there's this ghost/spirit of Zelda that everyone just feels REALLY strong loyalty to. But she's just like this kid who wants her body back?! They try to protect her but she can turn into a purple knight and stab things so there's that. I think there's also some animal companions from ooa/oos so.

Side quests are nonexistent they don't care about a village or gathering frogs for a kid they are there to save the world on a mission linear plot it is

And it's interesting because you have so many of them who just vanish and then appear to give loud advice. All at once. And the fighting skills basically fall to those weird green shadows that shoot various elements and fight and randomly disappear. Midna and spirit Zelda can fight, and Fi can too (kind of like how she fights as a sword in hyrule warriors). Also up to you if midna is drop dead gorgeous or devilish imp.

By the end they find whatever enemy so they can go back and midna is so pissed by this point that she hears the word "batteries" from Fi and goes full on fused shadow and just obliterates the jerk

***I have not played all the games so do not know or understand all of the companions and probably got some stuff wrong

Bonus: there is a child in a village named Link who does not have the spirit of the hero. He is stalked for three days until Fi decides his vibes are off and they all stop telling him he's the chosen one