#writing things out always helps me process my feelings

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> smut, oral / receiving, words -> 1.8K

abstract -> “that white tiger has chosen you as a mate.”

seonghwa’s perspective

“What has he been saying to push your heat early?” Hongjoong asked me and I sighed. “Don’t wanna say” I muttered, making him laugh. His fever has already passed a week ago… now Yeosang has been endlessly teasing me, especially after seeing the endless hickies Hongjoong left. 

Undoubtedly the three were annoyed with the marks but they wouldn’t say anything to Hongjoong. Putting everything behind us, they respected him as the one of the oldest and even acted like the oldest. While me and Yeosang kept on butting heads… just not as mean as before but the teasing about my heat isn’t leading anywhere good. 

“You should tell her your heat is coming up, see what ends up happening” he suggested while he was writing in that notebook. He wasn’t any more innocent… he still smelled like her even after it being a week. The two still had hickies and he had scratches from only what I saw. 

I couldn’t stop imagining just where this bastard was able to touch…

“If you’re going to get horny by your own thoughts then do it outside our room,” he said and I scoffed. Rooming with Hongjoong was… definitely an experience. However, the other three had their own rooms… even though Wooyoung was currently in the process of moving into San’s room for memory help. 

While Yeosang stayed by himself still… I wonder if I asked her to have my own room if she’d let me. 

“This is not my fault” Yeosang corrected and I scoffed. “It’s not my fault you get so horny from words, I swear you're even more desperate than Wooyoung '' he said while scrolling on his tablet not even looking at me. 

“Besides I bet you couldn’t even do anything right,” he said and I growled. “You do know I'm not a virgin right?” I corrected and he laughed. “Having sex with humans is different from hybrids. Hybrids cum faster, humans are a little harder” he said and I rolled my eyes. 

“Besides, you'd need to be careful with her,” he muttered. “That’s just you, especially with being a canine,” I said while looking in the fridge. “Just say you're small” he grinned and I started to get annoyed. 

“Besides… I'm honestly surprised just how marked up Hongjoong left her” he said and I agreed. I knew he’s always been possessive of things he owns but… he’s never done that with his heat partners. 

“Then again I guess tigers are possessive. Too bad for you” he said and I guess he was right… “Yeosang!” I heard as I saw Wooyoung whine. “What?” he asked and scoffed. “y/nnie is setting up doctor’s appointments…” he said and I shuddered. 

“Already?” he asked and the fox nodded. “It’s been almost a year for San and me, while the tigers need a check-up and apparently so do you,” he said…

How was I supposed to hide my heat from the doctors?

“I hate this place” San muttered and I agreed. We were all seated in the waiting room with other hybrids and their owners. “You’ve got attention,” Hongjooong said and I noticed some of the female hybrids eyeing me up… it's the pre-heat smell, isn’t it?

Yeosang just laughed and I smacked his head. “You really want to fight here?” he threatened and I heard y/n sigh. We both just click out tongues and sink into our seats. 

“Okay, Seonghwa?” I heard the doctor call and y/n stood up. “Yeosang, Hongjoong you’re in charge,” she said as she smiled next to me trying to comfort me. 

The check up seemed extremely slow as they took my weight, height, temperature, etc. “You’re running a little hot” the nurse mentioned. y/n seemed confused… I didn’t want to tell her my heart was being pushed early. 

“Have you had your heat yet?” the nurse asked and I shook my head. “Hmm, we’ll do a check up for that otherwise Dr. Kim will come here shortly” she said and we nod. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked as she now stood up in front of me feeling my forehead. 

My thoughts were running wild while I looked up at her… “Perfectly fine” I answered just… needy. “Is your heat coming early?” she muttered and I shrugged. 

“Miss y/n, Dr. Kim would like to speak to you”

I was escorted back now that y/n was talking to the doctor. “Did they find you out?” Yeosang said and I scoffed. “Where's the rest?” I asked and he explained that they were taken already for checkups. “You'd have to take the suppressants” he taunted and I had to refrain from hitting him in public. 

“Yeosang… shut up,” I said while gritting my teeth and he laughed. “Besides, I doubt you could get her through your heat,” he said and I was confused. “What was that supposed to mean?!” I said and he chuckled.

“I doubt you could even make her cum to begin with,” he said and I sighed. Just when I thought his attitude couldn’t get worse. “You know what, I bet I could do better than you” I challenged and he looked at me with an unreadable expression. 

“You know, not even Wooyoung and San have found what makes her completely putty in your arms, what makes you think you can?” he taunted. 

“What’s your problem?” I said and he shrugged. “Don’t you ever get the feeling that we're too similar?” he asked and I sighed but nodded. “A little too much sometimes,” I said and he scoffed. 

“How about a bet?” he asked and I waited for him to continue. “If you can make her cum so many times she either taps out or passes out then I'll share her with you” he offered and I felt my eyes widen. 

“What?” I asked and he scoffed. “She’ll never approach you first, I’ll talk to her about helping your heart if… and only if she wants to. Besides, make her uncomfortable or hurt her, and I'll kill you” he threatened and I nodded. Not like I would hurt her.

“But if she does disagree… masturbation is always an option, hyung~”

y/n’s perspective

“What do you mean I should help Seonghwa with his heat?” I asked Yeosang as San and Wooyoung looked grumpy as always. “He’s getting worse, and his constant whining and even his scent are getting annoying besides... He also doesn't want to go to a hybrid hotel since he is compliant about diseases and dirt” he said and I sighed.

“But I don't want to betray you,” I said, feeling like I would be cheating on them. “We love you y/n… but honestly Seonghwa and even Hongjoong are wedging themselves into our relationship like how I did,” he said and I sighed.

“You like them…” he said and I looked down.

“There's no shame in that… we’ll get along with them. We already do… but that white tiger has chosen you as a mate.” Yeosang reassured me. He already chose me as a mate?

“But if you feel uncomfortable then you don't have to agree. You’re more important” Yeosang reassured me and I nodded.

“I'll help him” I agreed and he kissed me before I went off to Hongjoong’s and Seonghwa’s room. I let Yeosang have my bed for the amount of time Seonghwa’s heat lasts…

“Seonghwa?” I said and he opened the door. 

“y/n?” he said and I smiled. “Yeosang said you were in heat,” I said and he covered his face with the door. “I don't want a suppressant or a hybrid hotel… and you don't need to force yourself to help me, '' he said and I smiled.

“I’ll help you, Hwa,” I said and I even saw his eyes dilate.

“Are you sure?” he asked and I nodded. “Can I kiss you?” he asked and I nodded as he smashed his lips on mine. He was desperate and even forced his tongue through my lips… 

I was also lifted up but Seonghwa did not stop kissing me until he finally let me breathe and immediately went from my neck. 

“Hwa '' I whined as he sucked at my neck and continued marking me until I felt the soft bed on my back. “This is Hongjoong’s be– mmphm” he kissed me again as I tugged at his shirt.

He took it off and now started unbuttoning my pajamas and took off my pants. “So pretty… you’re so perfect,” 

no one’s perspective

“Can I?” he asked as he wanted to take off your panties already hooking his fingers around them. You nod, giving him silent permission when he took them off and went straight for my pussy. 

Everything was so overwhelming… and out of all hybrids he was determined to make you cum the fastest just on foreplay in his mind competing with the Doberman. 

“Hwa!” you moaned as you felt your orgasm hit. It looked like a cat lapping up milk… he wouldn't stop and continued to rub your clit and lick and nip at your pussy until you felt me close again. 

“Seonghwa!” you yelled and he moaned as you gripped his hair and ears. His moans cause you to feel vibrations making you cum again. Now adding a finger into you he continued to do a hither movement until he could add another finger that's when his true intention came to play. 

Your moans got louder as you came… your thighs trying to close around his hand when he didn’t stop. “Cum again, please” he begged as he kissed your clit “Hwa… I need… a break” I said and he chuckled.

“One more time, princess,” he said as he now rubbed my clit and g-spot. I only felt this familiar feeling with the Doberman hybrid.

He was proud to get that reaction out of you. He now licked his fingers clean while you tried your best to catch your breath. You suddenly however feel his tongue clean your thighs up before going in again and cleaning your pussy.

“Let's get this off,” he said as he took your bra off and started playing with your boobs. Your moans were evidence that everything felt like too much. That you could even feel how hot his hands were due to his heat, his tail wrapping around your thigh, his body heat was overwhelming.

However, tigers while in heat are very vocal and possessive, not to mention competitive. You wondered if a certain doberman or even his tiger companion played a part in this behavior from your most behaved hybrid. 

“Ready, princess?” he asked as he lined himself up, giving him the permission he slowly adjusted… out of the four hybrids he was the biggest causing a whine at the slight burn in which he just kissed your face saying sweet praises to help distract the burning sensation of the stretch…

Slowly moving and squirming, wanting him to continue cause him to chuckle… “Don’t be impatient, princess~” he said as he pushed down on your stomach where he was making you moan and squirm. 

“I’m gonna make you cum but be patient… I’ll fuck you until you only remember me, not your other lovers”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[l0vergrlll]

: ̗̀ 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

𝐀 S𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬. 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝-𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Warnings: none applicable for this part

Note: this is my first time writing a series typa thing, i rlly hope yall enjoy! likes and reblogs and all that are always appreciated but obvs you don't have to. luv ya!

Prologue

Chris' POV

It’s funny how the sheer intensity of one's grief can be so easily diminished in a heartbeat.

My brothers and I sifted through the crowd, our hearts in our hands as mobs of flashing lights attacked us. We were surrounded by a flurry of demanding voices, cameras pushed in our faces.

“Mr. Sturniolo, look here please!”

“Where are you guys headed?”

“Chris, would you answer some questions?”

“Nick, any comments on taking over the family business?”

“Can we get a statement on your mother’s death?”

“How are you handling the death of your mother?”

“Why was the funeral in Somerville and not here in LA?”

The last few questions rang through my ears among the blurred sound of the rest. To be so insensitive must be a talent. I couldn't help but scoff while shaking my head, which prompted another wave of camera flashes and questions.

“Ignore them, Chris,” Nick mumbled into my ear, refraining from facing the cameras as he spoke. “Just keep moving. This ain’t nothin’ new.”

I continued trudging through the crowd, sticking close by my brothers as we reached the car. What would normally seem an incredibly easy journey turns out to be a whole fucking event every time. Bodyguards flanked us, swatting away the paparazzi to the best of their efforts.

I glanced over at Matt, whose jaw was clenched as he kept his gaze toward the ground. This was what we considered "normal". Having to maintain eye contact with the fucking sidewalk to avoid being bombarded by cameras.

And to think I hadn’t gotten a second to myself to even register the fact that she was really gone. It still didn’t make sense to me. It didn’t make sense that I was going back to the family mansion tonight, and she wouldn’t be there to greet me in her arms. That familiar embrace, so warm and inviting. It was only ever her embrace I could find comfort in. It always felt like I could have just melted in her arms. Like I was just a kid again. Her little Chris.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Her voice, I often compared it to the feeling of laying in a field while letting the warm rays of the sun kiss your face.

It still didn’t make sense to me that I would never hear it again. That I could never come home to be met by my mother’s warm embrace... ever again.

The insufferable ringing of a voice pierced through my thoughts...

“Chris, look here!” Followed by a fresh attack of white flashes. And I was back to my present surroundings. Finally, the three of us were ushered into the black car. I practically launched myself in, almost banging my head against the car roof in the process. I huffed out an exasperated sigh as I relaxed into the leather seat. It was rather uncomfortable.

I made the mistake of looking out the tinted window. A zombie-like mob of faceless people pointed obnoxiously large cameras at the tinted glass. Muffled yelling seeped through the car walls. Nick was right; it’s not like any of this was new.

But this life, these people, it all had a way of pulling at my sore heart, making it impossible for me to figure out where my mind really was during all this. During the event of my mom's death.

It feels like this lifestyle doesn’t allow for me to feel at all. I turned around to get a look at my brothers. They looked drained of any life. Their faces were pale, yet contrasted with the dark bags which sunk beneath their soft blue eyes. Stubbles outgrown and messy, hair looking questionable. I pretty much got a good image of what I probably looked like.

It’s like the three of us weren’t allowed to sit back for a second and think, “Damn, mom’s really gone.” Everything around us was simply too demanding. The family business, the press, mom’s will and the inheritance of the mansion.

Thus, we were forced to lock our emotions away. Keep things moving.

I audibly sighed, leaning back in my seat and staring at the ceiling of the car. Amongst everything else, there was something I had been wanting to do for a while since the day of the funeral. Something which I knew I had to do alone, something that would help give me some time to unravel my emotions. Help me really sink my feet into the reality of her being gone.

I needed to visit mom’s grave. I needed to go to Somerville. My whole life had been here in LA, raised by the seemingly endless sunshine and comfort of the lavish lifestyle.

But mom was raised in small-town Somerville, all the way on the other side of the country. And ever since we learned that’s where she desired to be buried, I’ve made it an internal goal to visit and connect with her roots. For some reason, I developed this narrative that it would be good for finding solace in all this. To get away from the pestering cameras and be somewhere I know was special to mom.

So that was that. I was flying to Massachusetts the very next day. It was on complete impulse. Matt and Nick didn’t even know yet. I'd never even flown anywhere without them before.

But hey, they say grief can change a person. I hadn’t even comprehended yet to what extent my world had shattered since mom’s passing. That’s why I knew I had to do this alone.

Because my mind, my understanding of grief, it was lost in the ocean of responsibilities this life had burdened me with. I needed to find that understanding, so that I could say my proper goodbyes to mom.

I needed to go to Somerville.

But first I needed to get back to the mansion and away from these fucking cameras.

~

Y/N's POV

“Hello? Can I get the price for this or not?” The sudden trill of an obnoxious voice infiltrated my buzzing mind.

I aggressively blinked back to reality. I regained my focus to meet a pair of angry eyes, waving a CD in my face. I jolted out of my stool and yanked the CD from the lady’s hand, turning my attention to the computer to find the price. 

“Sorry about that! It’s been a long day haha, I kinda zoned out-” The lady ignored my rambling and turned to her friend, mumbling in annoyance about the poor customer service. 

I rolled my eyes as I clacked away at the keyboard, a noticeable throbbing pain beginning to form in my head. God, I needed a break. More importantly, I needed an advil or something.

Finally, I thrusted the CD back into her hand, not utilizing any form of manners at this point. I was sick of it. 

“$24.99” I droned in a monotonous tone, waiting for a response as to whether she was gonna buy it or not. Judging by the surprise and slight disgust suddenly evident in her expression, she probably wasn’t. She tossed the CD onto the counter, throwing her blonde ponytail in my face as she turned away. 

“Yeah, no. I can find this way cheaper somewhere else.” And with that, she pranced out of the store doors with her friend, the two bursting with loud laughter about something as they went.

I sighed, leaning against the counter with my head resting in my hand. There were only a few more people left in the store, filtering through the records in the clearance section in the corner. I decided once they were out the door, I’d close for the night. I glanced out the window, a slight drizzle of rain had begun, coating the sidewalk gradually as the time passed. 

Damn, I’m supposed to visit dad after closing. 

The cemetery was about a 10 minute walk from the store. 

It was a rather scenic route, I usually cut through the forest behind the shop to get there. The dense canopy of the towering trees would probably shield me from the rain, right? The throbbing in my head intensified, and I groaned slightly while rubbing my eyes with my hands.

Before he died, dad used to meet me at the shop every night after closing. It was routine, I’d see him staring through the window, trying to scare me but failing horribly. I’d giggle at his failed attempt to look threatening, and he would respond with a beaming smile. Then I’d be out the door and in his arms, his soft embrace filling me with condolence after the 7 dull hours of standing behind the counter and watching kids search through records and CD’s and gush excitedly about a particular one they’d found. The same thing everyday had become rather tedious. But it was a necessary feat. Otherwise, it would have been a much greater burden on dad to get enough money for the rent every month.

But dad always knew how to lift the mood. He’d always spare extra expenses too, despite my concern for saving money. He'd surprise me with an iced coffee from my favorite coffee shop down the street. Or maybe even a cool CD of his own. And we’d listen to it on his old CD player, the left headphone in my ear and the right one in his. We’d listen while walking through the forest. He had the best taste in music. I’d come into work the next day and look for the same CD, saving it for later so I could listen to it on my break.

I haven't listened to any music in a while now. 2 weeks to be exact. Since the day of his funeral. 

Walks through the forest used to be serene and uplifting. Because I was with him, singing along with the music and laughing at how bad he sounded. 

Now I'd give anything to hear him sing again. To hear his voice at all. And now I was trekking through the forest alone, speckles of rain hitting my nose, pushing me to the edge after an already grating day. The forest ground was uneven and sludgy from the rain, mud seeping through the soles of my old sneakers. 

But I pushed through anyway, no matter how much I dreaded walking this familiar path without him.

Because I had developed a new tradition of my own. Everyday I had to go visit dad. Because even now, only he could bring me comfort after another long, meaningless day.

Finally, I reached the familiar exit through the lush undergrowth of the forest. The path trailed directly into the cemetery. A large gray stone laced with overgrown moss sat at the entrance. The stone was engraved with letters reading the location's name.

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲

.

.

.

╰┈➤ To be continued

[llilyrose]

Doodle for @the-bitter-ocean's In Cycles and Cessation au!!!!! (Alt. Version and writing under the cut!!)

{You pat the spot next to you.}

{They take it, albeit a bit hesitantly.}

"Mira? What's, um... What's this about?"

{What's this about, indeed...}

>"You like the stars, don't you?"

{They hum, simply.}

"... Yeah."

>"Well,"

{In the past you've struggled with sharing your thoughts, and the processes that lead to them. There's just -- there's SO MUCH going on in there!}

{At least you're good at remembering lines.}

>"I've noticed that you like to skygaze. A lot. And, you know, there's nothing wrong with that! But."

>"But you're not cloudgazing. Isabeau told me you're looking at the stars - the twinkly things in the sky?"

{He nods. It's permission.}

>"He also told me that, er, that thing you say sometimes - it roughly translates to stars in Vaugardian."

{He nods again, though it's more reserved. It's still permission. You haven't messed up yet. You continue.}

>"So I thought!! Um!!! Maybe you would want to skygaze with me?"

{Their smile is fond.}

"Mira. You didn't have to go out of your way..."

{No! You do!!! You absolutely do, because you know this means a lot to them, you know they're yearning, you're achingly familiar with their anxieties --}

{Change!! He won't even let you help him if you don't get anything out of it yourself!}

{... It feels like cheating. A bit selfish, to impose your problems on him, in a moment that's meant to be his. So you'll just... repeat your lines. Repeat it, Mira.}

>"The stars. Are they important to you?"

{Silence drags on. You hear the rustling of fabric. You're not sure if he's rubbing his arms or shifting to get a better view of the sky.}

{The lack of response urges you to bring a nail to your teeth. You make the beginnings of the motion, but Siffrin interrupts you before you get the chance.}

"Kind of. I think? I'm not ... entirely sure."

{It's the same thing they've always said.}

{The lack of change hurts you. The lack of change is comforting.}

{You...}

>"It's okay."

{A breeze brushes past you. It drowns out the gentle sounds of their breath.}

>"This kind of thing is . . . complicated. For me, too, if you can believe it."

{Hook. You hear him turning his head towards you, curiously.}

>"The change belief is home, for me. Growing up in a House of Change, of course, probably influenced a lot of my thinking, but."

>"As important as change is, as close as this ever-shifting belief sits to my heart, I have a complicated relationship with it."

>"The housemaidens... each of them has Changed, at least once. We have festivals to embrace it! And I'm happy for them! I'm so, so happy for them."

>"But I'm disappointed. In myself, I think? Because... Because I haven't changed. Or, I have changed, but I've never Changed, capital-C."

{Line. You hear a disgruntled "hrmpf" from beside you. You keep going.}

>"And nobody is pressuring me. I don't have to. But, I feel like- in this belief, this belief that revolves entirely around changing myself, changing the core of my being, into something completely different, completely new-"

>"I like me as I am, Siffrin."

>"But sometimes it feels like I'm missing out on key experiences in my culture."

>"So... yeah. It's complicated. These things are complicated. It's okay to be complicated."

>"Is it-- are the stars something like that, to you?"

{Sinker. You look back, and Siffrin is staring at you, sadly. He notices you looking, though, and shifts his gaze back towards the sky. The stars. They're thinking.}

"... Yeah."

{They pause. You wait. You'll give them the time.}

{You have plenty of it! Hahahahaha!!!!!!!}

{No. Positive. It's okay.}

"It's complicated for me, too."

"You like to say I'm easygoing. I think it's just the way I was raised."

"To say I follow my belief is more literal than anything."

"The Universe leads. We follow."

>"The Universe?"

{Wait for your cue.}

"The Universe. It's... everything. It's everything at once, and also everything beyond?"

"It's... the stars, in the sky, I think. It's the waves crashing onto a beach, the whistle of wind in your ears."

"It's not like everything is predetermined. We just... if something goes wrong, or you think you see a sign, you can throw your arms up and say 'the Universe willed it.' And you wouldn't be wrong."

"I... don't really like that idea? That some higher force makes the decisions for me. That I can't shape who I am on my own."

"I don't like the idea that-..."

{They snap their mouth closed. You don't miss the way their voice cracked.}

{It hurts. It hurts you every time. Every time you help them it just resets. You're not sure how many more times you can do this.}

{It's like all your change never mattered in the first place...!}

>"You don't have to share, if you don't want to!!!"

{You won't complete his quest if you do this. You won't get his ability if you do this. You won't be family if you do this. But you can't anymore. You can't.}

{But.}

"... It's okay. I just..."

{There's no backdoor anymore.}

{Your gut clenches as they speak the words you've toiled over for loops, now.}

"I don't like the idea that forgetting everything about my culture was for some greater purpose. I don't want that. I don't want to forget who I was, I don't want to forget who I am, I don't want to forget you! Any of you!"

{His voice is wet. Something pangs in your chest.}

"If forgetting is all I can do, if forgetting like this is the path set out for me, then..."

"What kind of person can't remember their home? Their childhood? What is a person without their memories?"

"is this what the Universe wanted from me? Is this all I'm for?"

{You've heard it all before.}

{And yet. And yet.}

>"Don't talk about yourself like that!"

{He flinches. You yelled! Why did you yell???}

>"You don't...! You don't deserve to treat yourself like that!"

{You can't stop yourself. The thoughts you bite back flow out of you like a river.}

>"'What kind of person am I without my memories?' You're Siffrin, that's who! With or without your memories, we love you as you are, the person you are!"

{You pause. He's scared of you, isn't he? You're being loud. Too loud. You're derailing the conversation.}

{Change is good. Change should be good. But it feels like every time you try to change your situation, it bites you back and turns tail!}

{You messed it up, you messed it up, you--}

{You feel a tug on your heart.}

~~

"-is this all I'm for?"

{You smile, softly.}

>"Of course not, Siffrin."

{He tenses. You always notice it.}

>"You... don't have to deal with this alone. Why didn't you tell me? Or anyone?"

"It-"

{They pull their hat over their face.}

"It, um... didn't really matter."

{It still hurts you. That he didn't think he could tell you.}

>"We'll never forget you, Siffrin. And you'll never forget us, either. I'm sure of it."

>"Memories or not... you belong here. With us. We love you, you know that, right?"

{They shrink back, flustered. It hurts. You've seen it before. You've seen it.}

>"If you're so worried about your lack of memories, we'll just... make new ones!!! Together!!!"

>"You're not alone in this anymore. You're here, with us, and we have a future to look forward to, together."

{He's crying.}

{That look in their eyes. You know.}

{You know he knows he is loved.}

{You hate that you're getting tired of it.}

[donghyuckkies]

i've lived in canada for 20 years now but i have yet to gain citizenship. at first it was a matter of personal finance: the total cost is about $800. and the only benefits of becoming is citizen are being able to vote and not having to worry about travelling to the states/having a pr card. however these days the main reason i'm holding off is that i'm not exactly motivated to swear allegiance to a country that cares so little about human rights. not only does this government continue to not call for a ceasefire and has recently withdrawn funding to unrwa. but it also allows premiers like danielle smith to violate the human rights of trans people, especially youth. and don't get me started on the dogshit treatment of indigenous peoples. i do however realize that gaining the ability to vote would enable me to make a bit more of a difference, so needless to say i am extremely conflicted and will continue to put it off (also because i have other procedures i need to complete first).

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King Seb :D

[what-even-is-sleep]

Trying to get ahead of an unsustainability cycle that might be starting up this week,,, (I start work).

[coldercreation]

Last Kit-Nat writing update of the today!

Me: I'm so stuck, I don't know what to write, where is this even going, there's no point to any of this, I can't find the wordsss tfff

Also me: hits 8042 words and still working on it lmaooooo

Excessive bish™ strikes again xx

[klonoadoortophantomile]

this ended up super long but i still wanna share cuz why not so uh putting it under a readmore. sorry in advance (its just some rambling abt an animation thingy im making)

actually though speaking of that animation i didnt even expect myself to like actually start it yesterday but i just.. kept making progress XD

probably had smthn to w me trying a completely different process from what ive normally done for like.. pretty much as long as i have been animating now that i think abt it

normally i just make them in chronological order which is Not a very good idea but i was always super intimidated by the idea of blocking things out beforehand for some reason so i always just drew things as i went along and hoped i remembered what my plan even was (never animated much long stuff so this wasnt too big of an issue for the most part which probably contributed to me sticking to that approach for so long) but with this one i kinda wanted to draw finalized stuff in an actual art program (for most of my life ive only ever animated on fucking. scratch. cuz i started doing map parts n stuff as a kid on there and now its kinda the only thing that makes sense to my brain.. more recently ive used ibispaints animation thing but really only for short loops.. i hate doing big stuff in strict frame by frame it drives me crazy) so i kinda avoided working on it for a while after i got the idea but yesterday on a whim i decided to open up turbowarp nd like super roughly sketch the Basic Idea of what i wanted it to be and then i started coding in the timing and i kept adding frames and now i have a nearly complete skeleton of the animation if that makes sense..

on the one hand it feels so cool cuz i have so much actually just. done. and the concept is much more solidified. ive made a lot of progress. but on the other hand.. my coding skills kinda suck and i skipped over two little segments cuz im still figuring out exactly what visuals i wanna have so now im worried my timing will get messed up when i add that in (i think the way i have it organized is okayish especially in comparison to what ive done in the past but it still isnt great) but then also.. i feel like it just wont turn out very good idk. like in all honesty this is one of the more ambitious animations ive tried doing in YEARS that ive actually made decent progress on but even then i still have so much left.. some of my sketched out stuff turned out weirdly really good nd im worried itll be lost when i actually draw things out properly and then on the flipside some of it is super jank in a way i cant totally tell of the frames just dont flow well or if i timed it out poorly (i dont use actual framerates its awful i just tweak the wait time between frames until it looks good) oh god okay this is getting stupidly long uh ill just cut this off here i dont really know what else to say now XD maybe ill actually go work on the damn thing

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[allurilove]

Yandere Husband x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: possessive behavior, manipulation, pregnancy/ baby trapping, cunnilingus, fem reader, p in v sex, dry humping, stalking, he’s a very deceptive man

*Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last post of yan!husband 😭🩵 This is a continuation off of my last post, and he’s only referred to as “your husband.” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. Here is the third part! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your husband is over the moon. He infiltrated your life, and he will make sure you never forget it. His obsession love for you is taken to new heights, a newest edition blessing your family.

You hated being pregnant as much as you hated being lied too. After learning he’s been stalking you, and purposefully feeding you lies about your whole interactions just being “fate,” he finds ways to make you forgive him.

What a fucking creep. Your husband thought as he watched the realtor get too handsy with you. Actually, everyone was trying to put their hands on you. You were carrying his baby, but others would put their hand on your stomach, acting as if it was theirs. He stiffened as the realtor tried to make a lame joke about the master bedroom.

He automatically appeared by your side, removing the realtors hands on your baby bump. He was in a bad mood the whole entire day. When you two go back home, he pulled you to the bedroom. He’s more careful with your body now, and he gently pushed you down onto the bed. He crawled next to you.

His arms wrapped around you possessively, his face digging into your neck, and you hear him whisper sweet things into your skin. He pressed kisses onto your shoulder, his hands wandering around your body before he groped at your chest.

You’ve gained weight, which was natural and just a part of the process. He loved to fondle your thighs, and his hands start to move upwards. Your husband slipped his hand underneath your dress, his hands touching your inner thigh and near your warmth. He was always the big spoon, loving how you feel in his arms.

“Oh dear…” Your husband whispered in delight, his eyes glancing down to see his hardened dick.

Your husband would always be erect around you, his hands revealing your plump ass to him and he gently smacked it. You scoff and push him away. You still haven’t forgotten…. you thought you found a friend, a guy to talk to about your stresses and worries in life. But he was the perpetrator.

“I said I was sorry…” Your husband frowned. “You sure know how to hold a grudge…”

When you shoot him a glare and make it clear you were still upset, he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright… let me make it up to you.”

Your husband pulled your legs apart, and his hands automatically went for your panties.

You remember a time when he first went down on you. You were in a vulnerable position at the time, as you ran and ran from your stalker, however you couldn’t help feel a bit of happiness. This was a confirmation that you weren’t hallucinating, and all of your friends that didn’t believe you, could suck it. But it also meant you weren’t just delusional, and someone was actually following you. Fatigue settled into your body, and you rested on the wall as you try to catch your breath.

Your husband, who was just a friend at the time, conveniently was walking past. He looked worried, and he feigned innocence when he pretended that he didn’t see a man following you. He walked you back home that night, and he got you so comfortable around him- that his fingers were easily slipping inside you. His tongue lapping up any juices that flowed out of you, and he pressed kisses on your folds.

He was a vessel of safety, and at the time you thought you would be fine for awhile. Completely unaware that your stalker was now sleeping in the same bed as you.

Your husband moaned as his mouth latched onto your cunt, his hands now trailing upwards to feel your stomach. His heart fluttered, and his mind was plagued of ways to keep you by his side forever. Spilling his seed inside you was one thing, and marrying you was another… but he needed something more binding.

He was a bit afraid of hurting the baby, and he always tried different ways of pleasing you than using his dick. He pulled down his pants and he lowered his hips, just enough to be rubbing against your wet core. You feel the soft fabric of his boxers touching your clit, and his lips connect with yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

You remember the time when you found out you were pregnant. You were suddenly sick, and your husband was by your side, just mindlessly playing with your tits. He did that often as he read his newspapers, his hand would crawl underneath your shirt, and his excuse was that he just needs something to fondle. That was when you found out he was not who he said he was. That the times he “bumped” into you, was him finding out your schedule, your routine, and months of stalking.

“What are you thinking about, hmm?” Your husband whispered in your ear, one of his hand grabbed onto your ass to help you follow his rhythm. He continues to grind himself onto you, his other hand playing with your hair.

“What will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Will it help if you hit me?” Your husband scoffed as you screamed at him for hours. You cried your heart out, and the person you loved at the time, was the reason for your paranoia. You can still feel his kisses on your neck, the way he pulled your clothes off, and when he bent you over on the dresser, you couldn’t move. His body was smushed right against yours, he humiliated you, made you feel desperate for release, and made your toes curl.

As he fucked you from behind, he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. The way drool dribbled down your mouth as you let out silent screams, your eyes rolling back as his thrusts were hard, and demanding submission. You despised him, the way he puts his hands on you, and the way he made you cum.

“…You’re crying..?” Your husband was stumped as tears welled up in your eyes and you started to sniffle. “Because of me?”

You’re tired of him trying to make it up to you. If he really wanted too, he would’ve came clean long time ago and go to jail for fucks sake. You feel his eyes zero in on your tears, watching it dribble down to your chin, and out of curiosity he licked them. He kisses your cheeks and he wraps his arms around you again. You feel suffocated having him on top of you, and you wish someone would take pity on you and take you away.

“I’m sorry.”

You’ve heard it countless of times, each meaningless and empty.

Allure: Sorry that this took awhile! I had to redo this a couple of times, and I wasn’t sure what to write really.

[flwrstqr]

𓈒 ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE REACTION WHEN YOU SUDDENLY SIT ON THEIR LAP ˒

── ୨୧ enha hyung line x f!reader 𝗀enre. fluff, imagines, hyung line work 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽 counts . . . 643 𝔀arning not proofread, kisses, petnames, slightly suggestive ┊DANi NOTEZ ‎⸝⸝⸝okay what if i just write ot7/different lines works for a while..◞[ continue on to . . . library , request ] maknae line ver !!

! feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated and encouraged! PLS REBLOG ♡

HEESEUNG (이희승)

you sit down onto heeseung's lap out of the blue, and he immediately wraps his arms around your waist, a surprised laugh escaping him. "need anything, doll?," he says, his voice tinged with amusement and affection. he leans in, planting soft kisses along the curve of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"didn't expect to have you in my lap, but I'm definitely not complaining," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your skin. he snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, holding you close as if never wanting to let go. "you're too irresistible for your own good." his words are accompanied by a playful squeeze around the waist.

rest of the members below !!

JAY (박종성)

as you settle onto jay's lap suddenly, you feel him stiffen slightly beneath you, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion. for a moment, he just stares at you, processing the unexpected closeness.

after a few moments, you feel his arms slowly wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. his touch is hesitant at first, as if he's unsure of what to do, but then he relaxes into it, letting out a soft chuckle. "well, this is unexpected, angel," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

as the minutes pass, jay begins to whisper small things to you, his voice filled with affection and warmth. "you know, you always manage to surprise me," he says softly, his arms holding you securely against him. "but I have to admit, I like it."

JAKE (심재윤)

as you settle comfortably onto Jake's lap, he barely reacts, simply adjusting his position to make you feel comfortable. as if it's the most natural thing in the world, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, while his other hand gently tilts your chin upwards to meet his gaze.

he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his touch gentle and familiar. with a slight tilt of your head, he deepens the kiss, leaving your lips nearly swollen. pulling back just slightly, he gazes into your eyes then at your lips

"you know you don't have to surprise me like this for my attention," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth. "but I'll never complain about having you in my lap." he leans in to kiss you again.

SUNGHOON (박성훈)

as you suddenly sit on Sunghoon's lap, he can't help but suppress a knowing smirk, though he tries his best to look innocence. "well, look who's feeling bold today," he remarks, his tone teasing as he tries to play it cool..

his arms loop around your waist, drawing you in closer to him, "did you need something, princess?" he asks, his voice tinged with amusement as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. leaning in, he brushes a soft kiss against your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"you always know how to keep things interesting," he murmurs, his voice deep and quiet.

[revasserium]

Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man

accidentally in love

opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader

summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.

a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.

Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.

You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.

“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.

Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”

Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.

“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What, finished with that book already?”

“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”

Sanji blushes.

Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.

“You never answered my question, y’know.”

He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.

The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.

“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.

“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”

“What are you making?”

“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.

“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.

“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.

“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.

You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.

“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.

“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”

Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.

“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”

When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.

“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”

The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.

“Ah, shit —”

“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.

“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.

The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.

“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.

Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.

He wants to reach for you.

Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.

An alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck —”

He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.

Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.

You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”

“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.

“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”

“Hey —”

You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.

Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

You cock your head, “About what?”

But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.

“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”

Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.

Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.

“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.

“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.

Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.

You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:

Kitchen — after dinner.

You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.

The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.

You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.

When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.

“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.

Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.

“This afternoon —”

“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.

One word from you and —

“So? What about you?” you ask.

Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”

He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.

“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”

A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”

Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.

“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.

“Yes.”

You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.

“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.

You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”

Another kiss.

Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.

“That’s two.”

You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.

“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”

Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.

“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.

“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”

Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”

“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”

You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.

“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”

recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.

[irndad]

a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?” 

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with. 

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them. 

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks. 

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me. 

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response. 

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it. 

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office. 

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief. 

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share. 

He does not want to call Maeve. 

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess. 

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it. 

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now. 

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this. 

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him. 

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up. 

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount. 

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to  cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable. 

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back. 

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits. 

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back. 

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything. 

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though. 

[mrsbarnesblog]

i need help

summary: Rafe has a breakdown and he finally asks for help

word count: 1.4k

warnings: angsty and fluffy?, crying, mentions of drugs and alcohol, ward is the worst father (this is ward’s hate space btw💋)

a/n: I just want to baby him. so yeah, soft/clingy Rafe again because apparently, I can’t write anything else right now🙂

You were sitting on Rafe’s bed, patiently listening to his firm footsteps on the staircase. The room was dimly lit only by a lamp from the nightstand and you fought back an urge to fall on your back and fall asleep with your face in his pillow. 

Yet the harsh and cold voice made your head clear of your thoughts and you finally noticed your best friend walking into his own room. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe grumbled at you as soon as he slammed the door, turned the lock and turned around, only to see you sitting on his bed.

“What?” His bloodshot eyes were burning holes into you and you innocently blinked at him, not understanding why he was acting so weird.

“I said, what–”

“Don’t yell at me.” You interrupted him calmly. “We wanted to hang out; it’s been a few days since it was just the two of us. You never complain when I come here.”

“Ye-yeah, fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You watched how Rafe started pacing around the room, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He was almost shaking, his hair looking like a mess, and you would’ve thought that he was on the verge of tears. “I’m not in the mood right now, okay? We’ll do it another time. Can you leave now? I– I need to be alone.”

“No, Rafe, I’m not leaving. What happened?” Your brows furrowed, concern and nerves bubbling inside of your body as you watched how your friend and the guy you had a crush on was slowly breaking down. 

“Nothing. Nothing happened, Y/N.” He mumbled, still not staying in one place. “Just go.”

“I told you no.” 

 “Why can’t you listen to what I’m fucking telling you?!” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you as if he were trying to scare you away. Yet you remained still in your place, not even flinching. Your brows shot up in silent question,  eyes were glued to his face, and especially to the way his own eyes became more glassy and watery with every second. “Fuck, fuck—I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to yell at you.” 

“Then don’t. You know I hate it when you’re doing it, Rafe.” You continued calmly. “Sit here and tell me what happened. I see that something’s wrong. It’s been that way for a long time, right? You’re acting differently… C’mere.” You patted the bed near you, giving Rafe a reassuring smile. 

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” Sitting near you on the bed and holding his head in his hands, Rafe spoke so quietly that you could barely hear him. “I’m going insane. I have issues and nobody hears me.” You slowly, as if you were touching a wounded animal, put your hand on his back, slowly moving it up and down. 

“Tell me. I’m here and I hear you. Please tell me what’s going on.” You tried to sound as soft as you could, moving a little bit closer. “You know you can trust me.”

“There’s something wrong with me. I— I have thoughts in my head that I don’t like. They’re bad. They’re wrong. I don’t want to be violent or feel these things inside of me but I c-can’t stop. They’re stronger than I am and sometimes they’re messing with my head.” Rafe’s voice cracked at the end and you felt the violent beating of your heart in your chest. He sniffed a few times, desperately trying to be strong in front of you and to hide the disgusting things that were eating him up alive. 

“Are they dangerous to others or to you?” 

“Both.”

You slowly nodded, processing the information and trying not to show the way it actually freaked you out. Did you know that Rafe struggled with anger and was not everyone's favorite person? Well, yes. He was nothing but sweet to you, though. You saw that he was a nice person, with a good heart. The only thing that he wanted in return was to feel needed, important, and loved. 

And you always gave it to him. 

But realizing that there were problems so much deeper and that he was now screaming for help because he could not live like that anymore made you wonder how you could be so stupid to not notice the signs earlier.

“Did you talk to your dad about it? Maybe anyone else? Or is it just me? ” You finally reached Rafe's face with your hand, turning him in your direction. You’ve never seen him even shed a tear, not to mention the state that he was in right now and it was shocking how much it hurt you too. The look in his pretty eyes was so desperate and so hurtful that you felt sick.

“He told me to man up. Cool, right? Can’t even do shit without disappointing him. I–I said that I have problems, but he just ignored it. He told me to rest and that it'd be okay.” He smiled at you, even though tears were still freely streaming down his face. “I just thought that maybe once he would hear me. See me. Not Sarah. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He shook his head and looked down. “So it’s only you. Nobody really cares about me anyway, so...”

“Oh, Rafe… Come here.” He wasn’t resisting when you dragged him closer to you by his arm. No, instead, he wrapped his arms around you as if his life were depending on it. You hugged Rafe back, slowly lowering both of you on the bed, until he was lying almost on top of you with his face in the crook of your neck and your fingers slowly brushing through his hair.

What you noticed is that Rafe was always cautious with physical contact. Sometimes it seemed like he tried to be closer to you, sit near you, or casually play with your hands or hair, but the next day he was completely dispant and hesitant. 

It was obvious that now Rafe lowered his guards; he let you see the damaged parts of him and he craved your touch because it was the only thing that could ground him. 

“I need help. I’m tired of this shit in my head, and I don’t want to continue ruining my life with alcohol and drugs…but it just calms everything down for some time and I don’t know how to come out of this circle.” Rafe sobbed harder, his arms wrapping around you even more, until you were closer than you'd ever been before. Your own eyes were filled with tears, but you refused to show them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a disappointment. P-please don’t walk away.” 

You knew about Rafe’s lifestyle, but despite your words, he always made it seem like not a big deal, like something fun that he does at parties. Though now it was obvious that the facade that he had built was slowly falling down and drowning him in it too. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rafe. It’s not your fault. But you do need help, darling.” You whispered, pet name rolling from your tongue faster than you could’ve processed it. “It’s important that you understand it. And I’m not leaving. It’s the last thing that should be in your head.”

“I do. I want to get clean. I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.” 

“That’s okay. I’m here for you, yeah? Your dad may not hear you, but I do and I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together tomorrow, okay? Now you need to rest a little bit.” You reached the end of the bed, dragging a duvet and covering both of you with it. Rafe didn't move an inch from your warmth.

“You promise?”

“I promise, Rafe. You mean a lot to me; you know that, right? More than you think.” You whispered, soothingly brushing his blond hair again.

“You mean a lot to me too. More than you think.”    

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover !

featuring: imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, gepard. (+ jingliu and kafka)

notes: headcanons! some might be ooc HELP. i couldn't resist writing for hsr man… also jingliu and kafka sneak bc mmm i love morally questionable women 🤩. gn!reader. reader is not trailblazer. some fluff, some angst (?) kinda. reblogs are very much appreciated!

Imbibitor Lunae (Danheng IL)

About [Name]: They're one of the few people who's never condemned me for Danfeng's sins, nor ever tried to get me to own up to them. Their presence is very comforting to me. My lover? *coughs* Y-yes, they are.

About [Name]: Selfies Aside from March, [Name] always seems to ask me to take photos with their camera. Hm? No, I don't really mind. If it makes them feel happy, then that's enough reason for me to agree.

About [Name]: Photo Albums [Name] made an Express photo album with March yesterday. Yeah, pictures of our adventures and memories, according to them. It's in the Data Bank, so just ask me if you want to take a look at it.

Gepard Landau

About [Name]: [Name] is the most amazing individual I've met. Their determination and their will to pursue their goals to the fullest… I'm proud to call them my lover. Oh, ah… Was that too forward?

About [Name]: Lending a Hand Oftentimes, Serval asks [Name] to help her carry some things for her workshop. Although the times I get to personally help out are rare due to my duties, I still make it a point to support them by asking the Silvermane Guards to keep an eye out for them and help carry my sister's things for them if it's too heavy. Of course. They're always my top priority.

About Serval: Nagging Every time Serval stops by my post, it usually means [Name]'s run into some difficulties, which I try to help them out in. While her telling me about my lover's state is greatly appreciated, she always nags and teases me being a fool for them and… *sigh* No, it's alright, really. I'm thankful that my sister cares about [Name] and goes out of her way to talk to them for me. Still, I do hope her nagging would decrease next time.

Jing Yuan

About [Name]: Hm? [Name]? Yes, they're indeed my lover. Hehe, now that you've brought them up, I should go look for them. I'm afraid I've grown so used to the feeling of laying my head on their lap that no other pillow can suffice. Ah, what a predicament…

About [Name]: Spending Time Together While I do enjoy dozing off, [Name] makes a point to let me rest at a more appropriate place, instead of at the Seat of The Divine Foresight, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Oftentimes, I do as they say, but when I'm not and just craving their presence… Heh, now that's another matter entirely.

(BONUS! - Yanqing's Voiceline) About [Name]: Oh, [Name]? They always give me some extra allowance for buying swords, buying me sweets and food I like… Of course I won't say no to that! Sometimes, them being with me when I'm being scolded by the General for my expenses helps a lot. Probably because they're the only one the General can't say no to.

Jingliu

About [Name]: ….Do you really think you have the right to know about them? This is a warning. Try to ask again and perhaps you'll be faced with the end of my blade as my answer.

About [Name]: Soothed The whispers of the marastruck, succumbing to the Abundance… They are the only one able to calm the storm of my thoughts. For that, I am grateful for their patience and their kindness.

(BONUS 2! - Jing Yuan's Voiceline) About Name: While Master's current state is one of irreparable damage, at the very least… She has someone to hold onto while she grapples with the curse of mara. Even if I don't quite believe she's the Jingliu I knew from before, I know that her feelings for [Name] are sincere. I just hope she doesn't end up hurting them in the process.

Kafka

About [Name]: Aha, now thats a question I didn't expect to hear from you. My lover? Yes, [Name] is that to me. I very much enjoy their love and affection, you know. Even if it isn't on the script, I'd still mention them. Quite romantic of me, no?

About [Name]: Trophy They always, always chide me about me ruining my velvet coats when we finish up a script. What's wrong with a little blood? I keep most of them as trophies. There's one I'm especially fond of, too. They think it's rather embarassing that I keep the coat from the time they got injured on the job. Although the stains have long since turnt black, there's still a faint scent of iron in it. Hm? What do I mean by that? Heh, let's just say I don't take any harm coming to [Name] lightly. While they call it a reminder of their lack of caution, I'd rather call it a little show of my affection~

About [Name]: Destiny's Course Elio refused to tell me about what my future with them would be, saying that the path in that choice is quite difficult to discern, and I think it's for the best. I suppose if [Name] decided to leave the Stellaron Hunters, hm, would locking them up till they can't leave me anymore suffice….? Haha, just kidding. I wouldn't let them leave in the first place.

© 𝐌𝐇𝐈𝐈𝐄𝐄𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[215-luv]

“OH GOD, IT’S NOT FAIR OF HIM TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS MUCH!” (HQ BOYS)

ATSUMU: says things out of nowhere that it makes you feel butterflies. it’s so sudden that it hits you like a tidal wave that knocks the air out of you. the two of you could be laughing at some random thing and suddenly, he opens his mouth to mention something, “your smile.” he says, almost out of nowhere, eyes looking at you with so much fondness that you refuse to believe that someone could ever look at you that way. “my smile? what’s wrong with it, tsum?” you question, and he chuckles, “oh, there’s nothing wrong with it.” a goofy smile plants itself over his face, “it’s just.. it’s so pretty. i want to see it more.” he says, resting his forehead over yours. “wanna be the person who makes you do all that—smile and laugh. you’re so beautiful.”

AKAASHI: “you were saying?” he questions as he’s scribbling over his notebook, studying for a test he’ll take the next day. the question almost surprises you. “i was saying..?” you ask, eyes on him as he looks busy enough writing over his notebook rather than listening to your nonstop blabbering. “yeah? you were talking about the book you just finished reading.” he says, and you sat there surprised, silenced and unable to fully process what you just heard. “well?” he ushers you to speak, the tone of his voice coming out as if he wants to hear more from you. and you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. “you.. you were listening?” you respond with a timid voice. your boyfriend lets out a chuckle, dropping down his pen to look at you with interest in his eyes. “of course i do. i’m always listening to you, honey.”

KUROO: you weren’t sure what just happened, but all you could process was the fact that you’re suddenly lifted by the strong arms of your boyfriend as you walked through the hallway of the campus. it was supposed to be a normal day. you sighed, trying to ignore the stares of the students around you (and yaku, literally staring at the both of you in disgust). “tetsu, what are you doing? what’s all this? what’s happening?” you throw your boyfriend a wave of questions, unable to get a glimpse of the motive behind his actions. the deep chuckles from him reaches your ears, and you almost had to be grateful for being carried bridal style so as to not feel your knees weakening from the sound he just made. “am i not allowed to care for the love of my life?” he says, almost as if it’s an obvious fact. you roll your eyes, not convinced. you open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it—“you mentioned you walked home yesterday, right? you know, it’s pretty convenient to take the bus sometime. your house is pretty far from here. your feet must have been aching. let me take care of you, alright?”

OIKAWA: “delivery for the most beautiful person in the world!” he knocks on your classroom door, catching the attention of your classmates. you mildly panic, a rush of embarrassment flowing over you as you’re greeted with teasing smiles and chuckles. you see, tooru always had the tendency to do these things. and it honestly surprises you ‘till this day. he makes you feel so openly loved that it scares you it might disappear someday. your heart beats at a fast pace as your boyfriend nears you, eyes never leaving your figure as the corners of his lips are raised upwards. he places a bouquet of flowers on your desk, along with your favorite food on a plastic bag, and you almost choke a cry. “what’s all this?” you question, looking at him with suspicious eyes. he chuckles, “is there anything wrong with a boy simply wanting to show his love to his favorite person in the world?” his hand reaches to cup itself against your cheek, his warmth cascading over you. “let me show you what you deserve. i’m right here.”

USHIJIMA: you let out a sharp breath as you’re suddenly being pulled to collide against a strong chest which happens to be your boyfriend. you’re about to ask what just happened when he speaks first, “be careful. you were about to hit a lamp post.” your eyes widens, looking to the side to notice that you were, indeed, about to bump against one. guilt quickly begins to rush over you. “o-oh.. i’m sorry, i get really clumsy and bad at these things—“ you try to explain yourself apologetically, but your boyfriend cuts you off before you could finish your statement, “please don’t apologize. these are simply trivial matters.” he tells you. it’s only ‘till then you notice his arm wrapped around your waist in a protective manner while he keeps you steady. “matters like these are the reason why i’m here. let me be the one to keep you out of danger.”

KITA: “this one’s wrong. you messed up the formula halfway, that’s why the rest of the equation is wrong.” your boyfriend explains to you as he compares his math homework with yours. you couldn’t help but chuckle in embarrassment, inwardly beating yourself up for being dumb infront of him. you scratch the back of your head, “s-sorry, i could really get confused over these things.” you apologize, and your boyfriend could only nod in understanding. “in this number too, you got the formula wrong. you’re supposed to use this.” he then adds, pointing to a certain number on your paper. you couldn’t help but feel small under his gaze. “r-right.. i’m sorry, i promise i’ll do better.” you reply apologetically. but your discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by shinsuke. his eyes worriedly looks at your figure as he quickly slides an arm around your waist, “hey, it’s okay. don’t worry about it.” you could feel his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt as a way to assure you. “you’re doing amazing, believe me. just let me know if you’re confused anywhere. i can always help you. you’re okay.”