#in red paint‚ and the result is actually something i feel proud of

[hauntswitch]

Normal unkillable secretary

#this started off as a freehand sketch using no gridlines or anything then quick inking over the top - and yet. this whole thing has made me #feel more alive and real and human than i have done in months. i spent an hour splatting paint inside my bin for this- covered completely #in red paint‚ and the result is actually something i feel proud of #my chemical romance #gerard way #mcr #my chemical romance art #mcr art #cw blood #tw blood #ask to tag #my chemical art #mcr return #gerard way art #mcr fanart #watercolor #my art

[ashlingiswriting]

Sugar

Natalie Berzatto x Pete, angst and fluff, pre-canon, 1.8k for @drabbles-mc

After Pete’s first Berzatto Christmas, Natalie sleeps badly all night long, getting up to use the bathroom, pulling covers on or off, batting away half-remembered dreams.

Pete's on his phone for hours into the night, which is unusual for him. Usually she gets to stare at him, just something to do while she can't sleep, but tonight he hides with his phone under the covers so the light won't bother her, and as a result, he's become a soft glow and a lump in the bed, hardly a person to look at. At some point the outside world lightens, the birds start singing, and she's so tired she goes into the sleep of the dead and stays there, solid, until the light is pouring in cloud-whitened but strong through the curtains.

Opening her eyes, she sees the ceiling is white too, and perfect. She pulls the covers up over her shoulders a little more and looks over. Pete's gone. That was pretty much what she expected.

She looks back up at the ceiling and waits for it to hit.

It doesn't.

Okay, she thinks calmly. Weird. She's just lost the best boyfriend she ever had in her life, a goofy guy who loves her like it's his job and his hobby and his life's purpose all rolled into one, and she doesn't feel anything about it. She probes at it like the spot where a tooth got knocked out, tongue to tender gum, and decides that maybe she's run out of emotions. She used them all up yesterday and now they're out of stock.

That's good, she thinks. She can work with that.

She sits up. Across from her, hanging on the wall, is a large red and yellow painting of flowers that they bought together at an art festival. She didn't expect him to agree on it—there's a violence to the colors despite the subject matter, and the style is disjointed, borderline abstract—but he goes along to get along, Pete does, and that peace is so peaceful that she's never really wanted to question it. Don't chew your fingernails, Bear, you're not five anymore.

Pete actually peeks through the door, like a kid trying to get away with something. Then he sees her, and sticks his whole head in. He needs a haircut, she notices absently.

"Hey," he says, a little rueful. "Are you awake? Darn."

Pete is the only man left alive who still says darn unironically, and he's wearing a powder blue sweater vest over a collared shirt in his own apartment on a holiday, and Natalie really would have married him.

"Yeah," she says carefully. "I'm awake." If she stays very still, maybe her insides won't get jostled. Maybe they'll stay asleep, and she'll keep on feeling nothing.

"I see." He comes to stand in the doorway, no more comedy to him, and says, a touch nervously, "So, I've been thinking."

"Yeah, it's okay, Pete," she cuts in. She didn't drink much, but she still got a Christmas hangover. "It's okay."

He smiles, brow furrow, all puzzled. "But how—"

"It's okay, okay?" Her heartbeat is starting to get faster, and that odd thing in her stomach might be nausea. "It's okay, Pete. Just. Just go ahead."

She smiles, which is the worst moment to start feeling, and of so course it's the moment the hurt hits her in the chest.

"Okay," he says, a little befuddled still, but relieved. He leaves. There's some sounds from the kitchen. He's packing up.

.

.

.

Five minutes later, he's back, bearing a tray that he sets down on her bedside table very carefully. Then he sits down beside her, pointing, proud.

"So that's fruit juice, morning mix of orange, pineapple, and a little bit of lemon. That's cinnamon sugar toast with loads of butter. I put it in the toaster oven so it would get all, like, caramelized? And that—" Pete pauses. He clearly cannot think of any ingredient or process details that he can elaborate on. "—That's scrambled eggs," he says. He looks to her, hopeful, but all she can do is look at him, then back at the food.

It occurs to her that Pete is quite possibly not breaking up with her after all.

"Oh, are you allergic to pineapples?" he says, apologetic already.

"No," Nat says slowly. He wouldn't make her breakfast to break up with her, right? Because breakfast is kind, but breakfast in bed right before a breakup, that's deranged. "I'm just—" But isn't everyone deranged? "—I'm just wondering, what made you think of cooking today?"

"Well, I read that book Carmy was talking about," he says, and it's the earnestness that gets to her, the excitement. He's got a spiel all ready, he's ready to dive in.

"Yeah?" she says, a new smile breaking across her face.

“Yeah," he says, even more excited than before, smiling now because she's smiling, and that's it. She launches herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck, holds tight. He holds her like he knows what he's doing, all big enveloping warmth, right hand rubbing her back. He doesn't question it.

“How’d you get it so fast?” she says, half-into his neck.

“Oh, I downloaded the Libby app ages ago. You know, it's like the best of both worlds. You get to support the library, but at the same time it's on your phone, so you don't have to worry about losing a physical copy, and—"

Nat's laughing now, so Pete turns his head a little and kisses her. Aims for her forehead, misses, gets all hair. Kisses her again anyways.

"You okay?" he says.

"Oh, I'm just all weird after last night," she says, peeling herself away a little, wiping her hair and tears out of her eyes in one quick movement. "So what did the book say?"

She knows, from the way he pulls one of the blankets up and around her, that he's caught the tears. But he just puts his arms around her little cocoon and keeps going.

"It's really interesting, actually. A little dense, but not academic. Kind of what you'd expect from Carmy?" He thinks on that for a second, then keeps going. "I couldn't stop thinking about this one part, which was less about cooking and more like this essay on personal history, and how sometimes, if there's something you really can't escape, like a thought or a memory or a person or a place, instead of trying to run away from it, you're better off trying to change the context. And there was a bunch of psychology stuff in there, but I'm not sure I really got all of that. Basically, though, it's about changing associations. Or adding associations."

His left arm still loosely draped around her, he reaches out, all six foot one inches of him straining, and manages to pick up the plate with the buttered cinnamon sugar toast on it. He holds it right under her nose, and she inhales. Her mouth waters.

"So," he says. "Sugar."

Nat gets it immediately.

"Sugar," she says, poking one of her hands out of her blanket cocoon to retrieve a slice.

"Sugar," he repeats, and then he sort of arranges himself against the headboard to be that much more convenient a human recliner, takes his own toast, and crunches away. "I'll run laundry today," he says, as if to pre-empt any comments about crumbs, though she wasn't gonna make them.

The toast is crunchy and decadent, with a surprising little edge of salt mixed in with all the sweetness, and Nat melts into his chest. It's a good silence, a long one, long enough to let all the residual doubts drain away.

.

.

.

Shortly after all the toast is gone, Pete's about to go for the eggs, and she intervenes. She kisses him.

The eggs end up going cold. The sweater vest ends up on the floor.

.

.

.

Some time later, right back where they were, though they're naked this time and sharing the blanket. Nat's staring at the painting again.

"We should get rid of that, right?" she says. "We should get something else. I don't know what I was thinking. It's not very you."

"No, I love it."

She looks up at him. He really is so funny, her man. "No, you don't."

"No, but I love the way you love it. Of all the paintings at the fair, this is the one that you stood and stared at the most. And I remember, you didn't even want to talk to the artist cause you wanted to stare at it for longer. You're so smart," he says, like that's not a non sequitur.

She can't help herself. "But you don't love it."

Pete looks from the painted poppies to Nat.

"I love you," he says. "That's, like, the same thing, right? Kind of like the transitive property in geometry."

Her forehead furrows for a second, and she just keeps looking at him. After a while, she finally says, a little slowly, like she's made a discovery, "My brothers think you're stupid."

"Yeah," he says, with the placid acceptance provided to him as a proprietor of two diplomas, a Chicago Stock Exchange salary, and childhood principally featuring a golden retriever named Noodles.

"Yeah," says Nat. "They're stupid."

Pete only laughs. "Oh, Sugar. They're your brothers."

She tilts her head to the side.

"How was that?"

"Sugar? That was..." Natalie thinks on it, then nods. "Pretty good."

"Didn't fix it," he acknowledges.

"But it was pretty good." She settles back into the crook of his arm and lets the twin comedowns from sugar and sex wash over her, warm and sleepy. She closes her eyes. Another silence, this one even better than the last, absolutely content.

.

.

.

The punchline comes months later, when they're both waiting in the hospital to for the chance to meet Richie's little girl. She was supposed to arrive hours ago. The labor's gone badly, Nat's nerves are shot, Mikey's nowhere to be found, and Richie's pacing the hall clutching an un-smoked cigar like it's a weapon. Donna arrives.

Pete says, going loud so she can hear him over the battling sounds of her mother and the nurse, "Now we just need to figure out how to put an Are You Okay in the toaster oven."

Nat laughs so hard that her mother actually stops arguing with the nurse to turn and look at her, but before she can say anything, Mikey comes sweeping in to say it for her: "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Natalie says. "Nothing." She elbows Pete, who's already spotted it too: Richie making a beeline for the nurse with an unhinged glint in his eye. Pete heaves himself to his feet and prepares to try for an interception, while she does hers without even standing up, throws her arm around Mikey and makes him bend down for his hug.

"Always something going on with you, huh, Sugar," he says. He smells awful, but he hugs just as well as Pete does, and she kisses his bearded cheek.

"Oh yeah," she says, with the placid acceptance provided to her as the proprietor of health insurance, half an apartment, and an engagement ring hanging on a chain around her neck, keeping secret till such a time as it will not upstage Tiff's big day. "That's me."

#fanfiction #the bear fx #natalie berzatto #natalie berzatto x pete #the bear fanfiction #mine

[msweebyness]

DuPont School for Monstrous Youths- Anthony Mathis

He may be from Hell, but he's not a bad egg! Here's the next theater kid! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Species: Daemon

Appearance/Attire: Shaggy black hair with blood red streaks in the bangs, large curved brown horns, glowing violet eyes with diamond-shaped pupils and thick eyeliner, sharp fangs on top and bottom, bright red skin, leathery black bat wings, curved black claws, forked devil tail. Crimson Scarf with onyx chain links woven in, Black leather jacket with blood red horn decals on back and onyx chains, tattered white t-shirt with red blivet decal, fingerless crimson leather gloves, chain belt, ripped grey jeans with archaic symbols painted in white, Black combat boots with crimson studs and onyx chains.

Bio: Abandoned in the Upper World by his daemon birth family as a baby, Anthony was raised away from Hell and the evil culture of his species. As a result, he grows up to be an overall good-natured young man, albeit with a wicked snarky edge and a somewhat antisocial personality. He's not the easiest person to get to know, but once you do get past his walls, he's a loyal and protective friend who won't let you get away with dumb shit. He can have a bit of a temper, which primarily flares up when people are insistent that he is evil based on the fact that he is a daemon. His friends are able to calm and reassure him, thankfully. He also is growing quite the soft spot for a certain nervous human…

Quotes:

"Bloody Hell! And you know I don't use that word lightly!"

"If one more person touches my horns today, I will do something my birth family would actually be proud of."

"Eri, love, perhaps this isn't the best idea?"

"Sorry, Jesse, that startled face you make is just so cute!"

"Just because I don't subscribe to the demon lifestyle, doesn't mean I can't cause some trouble when I feel like it!"

"Oh, right, don't trust anything the 'evil' daemon says!"

Don't judge a monster by the actions of their kind! leave thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

#miraculous ladybug #ml au #school for monstrous youths #anthony mathis #mlb oc #theater kids #daemon #monster high au

[leffee]

what do you think would make the main 7blush?

Gooood question. Blushy bbys? Blushy bbys!

Penny Ling - the one that blushes the most and it can be due to basically any sort of positive attention. Compliments, affection, giving her gifts especially personalized and hand-made. She also blushes for others, like if she witnesses something moving even if she doesn't know the people. Basically, any sort of praise works on her whether given to her by her friends, some stranger, a teacher or other sort of mentor. She also blushes sometimes when she's just content.

Zoe - she normally needs just the right atmosphere to really blush. She's all in all used to hearing compliments so a casual "You're pretty" while pleasing won't make her blush unless it's really unexpected. Like, if she just sang her newest song and her friends or someone tells her that she was great she won't, but if she doesn't do anything "special" just sitting around or something and generally the attention isn't on her and someone suddenly tells her how amazing she is she might go red. And romantic stuff if she really feels them. But she also goes red in the face when very angry, the sort of gritting her teeth, clenching her fists kind of angry.

Pepper - doesn't blush much unless it comes to her idols. Smallest compliment or praise from one of them can make her blush in happiness. Can sometimes blush from embarassement but really only Zoe can embarrass or tease her in the exact right way to make her blush. Another way is when she's around her crush when she has one because well, she's not used to even having a crush so she kinda doesn't know what to do and her mind goes hazy, especially if that crush actually shows interest in her. She can sometimes blush at any sort of more intense affection from someone, like a longer than she expected hug or even worse if they give her a kiss! She's just not ready for it.

Minka - blushes fairly often, usually when that burst of happiness or especially excitement happens. Can also blush lightly when you compliment her or her paintings (then again, she painted them, so there's not that much difference to her whether you compliment her or her paintings). She also blushes a lot easier than an average person when it's a hot day, she's high-temperature sensitive like that. Just like Zoe, she can sometimes blush when feeling intense anger. Also alcohol consumption, even in small amounts makes her blush much more easily in general.

Sunil - mainly blushes in moments of shyness and embarassement but also at praise and when he's feeling proud of himself. It's really cute. And also attraction, when he's in love with someone he can blush quite a lot around them. Unlike Zoe, he doesn't need 'right atmosphere' to blush, you can throw a praise at him at any moment and if it is to make him blush, it will. Sometimes also blushes when laughing heavily.

Russell - he blushes due to irritation a lot. It's mainly emotion-based for him, so happiness, embarassement, excitement, anger, anything like that can make him blush if it's strong enough or at a right moment. Can also become quite blushy when receiving physical affection, especially when he doesn't expect it. Sometimes when he's self-concious as well. Romantic advances also works but that's rather obvious.

Vinnie - oh, Vinnie. The thing is, he's not that easily flustered for once, but the most important thing here is that vague lower body temperature disease I gave him. Blushing is connected to body heat, and his is lowered, so as a result, even if he feels like blushing, it usually doesn't show, unless he feels it extremely wether it be embarassement or romantic attraction or anything else. However, if the room or any other space he's in is especially warm that's your easiest way to see him blush, if you manage to make him that is. But hot temperature in general makes him blush in warmth. Also alcohol makes his blush more easily. The thing that makes him blush the most and in a visible way is romantic attention from his crush/partner. In short: he doesn't blush much because it's physically harder for him and needs really strong stimulation to visibly blush. It has its cons, but then again if you see him blush then that mean you really got to him... or that it's really warm in the room. Or both.

#lps 2012 #asks

[rigaudon]

highly controversial (esp for tumblr) take under the cut, brought to you by me, less than 24 hours after running out of my antidepressants

i hate the continued trend of "quirkifying" (thing i made up just now) mental illness, but I especially hate how recently tumblr has latched onto, specifically, adhd and autism and turned them into personality types that people slap on a name tag to show off how unique they are. I hate that being neurodivergent has become the go-to excuse for terminally online people to justify their shitty behavior. I hate the sentiment that being unmedicated is something to be proud of. I hate that wanting to be fucking normal is a cardinal sin, because ew why would you want to be like those boring neurotypicals.

I hate it. I want to be normal. I started taking medication for ADHD when I was four years old and I have never, not once in my life, thought it was a Fun Thing To have. I hate that I've spent the last 15 years slowly coming to terms with the fact that I'm probably--no almost definitely--autistic, but am still vehemently opposed to it and unable to reconcile that fact despite all the evidence. I don't want to be autistic. I don't want to have adhd. I don't want to make these things a part of my identity that I share with people in the same breath as I talk about my favorite video games or dnd class.

It's not fun. It's not a cute, exclusive club you get to be part of.

It's miserable and alienating and people don't take it seriously. Because you're just lazy and not trying hard enough. Why haven't you done this task you promised you'd do six months ago. Why did you fail out of college? Why did you squander that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Why don't you finish anything you start? Having a low attention span isn't an excuse to not communicate like a normal person. I've had to tell you this five times why can't you just remember? Why can't you save any money? Why are you so fucking weird? Don't you ever think about anyone other than yourself?

Why can't you Just Be Normal?

I would give anything to just be a shitty, irresponsible person who makes bad decisions out of carelessness or lack of empathy. I would give anything to be a "boring neurotypical". Because I could work on that. I could become a better person. i could learn from my mistakes and have that actually mean something practically rather than just cognitively.

It's an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. Accepting that my brain just does not work correctly and no amount of positive thinking, or bullet journaling, or time management skills, or even medication will fix it. It will always be a struggle. It will always be a ten ton weight shackled to my ankles that I have to drag behind me through any task that doesn't result in instant gratification. There will never be a permanent solution. I will never wake up one day and suddenly be able to do these basic fucking tasks that everyone else does without issue. I will always have to remind myself to brush my teeth, or to eat breakfast, or to take a shower, or to make sure my cats get fed. It will always be an ordeal to get the mail or to go grocery shopping or to keep myself from sabotaging every good thing in my life for the umpteenth time.

It's exhausting. I'm so tired. I'm so sick of fighting against myself every waking moment of every single day. I'm so sick of being told that I don't deserve any kind of accommodations or allowances or compromises and there is no excuse because "everyone else has to do these things and you don't get special treatment".

I don't want special treatment. I don't want everything different or "wrong" with me to be painted on my skin in bright red ink for everyone to see. I don't want to be reduced to a bunch of boxes so people can just glance at the labels and decide that's all they need to know about me. I don't want to stand out. I don't want to be different. I want to fucking blend in and be unremarkable and boring.

I just want to be fucking normal.

#literally just me whining and ranting #i'm not a person at all right now I can't think for more than 30 seconds and any time I start a task I stop five minutes later #I can't even put something mindless on to watch because the process of turning on the tv and picking a show is Too Many Steps

[blurbry]

Rambles

Rambling Day 1:    AO3 WARNING!!!! LONG POST AHEAD!            FIRST BULLET POINT!: I have a Pseud now. For when I have the feeling or need to write *EHEM* fics. However I Most likely won’t go into too much detail as said things actually make me flushed sometimes.(While I’m Not repulsed or uncomfortable talking about it or writing about it, I just thought I’d touch on the fact that I’m still experimenting with sexuality and am not too sure if I’m actually asexual or not.) A small warning, It may contain oc x character shippings, not just head-cannoned shippings.  I will most likely not post them Publicly as most of them would be physically for me to reread and improve my writing skills, rather than to cause discourse with one who may be Uncomfortably settled with such a subject.  Even if I do Post them Publicly on tumblr, They’ll be tagged Respectively and placed on a Main blog and art blog separate blog. still so the tag can be blocked and ignored. Tumblr added nsfw Content filters for the reasons sole for you to be able to browse your content without being hit in the face with a discomforting subject.   SECOND BULLET POINT!: I’m rewriting all my old fics.  Those of you who followed my AO3, whether you ended up there through lost in dysphoria, or perhaps you were there from my very first fic Broken Glass Shattered Spirits, You’ll notice they’ve all been deleted (except for the ones I’m particularly proud of.) This is because I’m freshly applying a new coat of paint!!  Rather than a baby tiny 1000 word fic, There will be more words, more filler text to make it more interesting. More Development in situations rather than a Rushed feeling of Needing to get this out. While doin so will take me a few months, due to having the most ADHD brain in my family, I assure you when a project has been begun it hasn’t been forgotten, it’s just been pressed aside for a later date. All I ask is Im not rushed or demanded to write faster, because that’s what leads to my sloppy 1000 word writing. Schedule for writings:    Begin Lost Family Au Writing and Master Explanation. Lost Family: An Au I Made which is a Link Separate Au. All the links have tragic Life stories about Siblings or parents or how their lifestyles effect them, Leading up to the events of the Four swords being pulled, and the four meeting each other. IN this AU, the swords are four elemental blades locked deep within Temple systems, that each of the four are called to pull when the time is right.  Begin Raptured Hyrule: Raptured Hyrule is another AU I began working on in 2021 with my friends, and finally decided to publicize in 2022. This AU is if darkness was never fended, and in a way, if Zelda was corrupted by dark cloud rather than killed. It’s very angsty........     Rewrite dancing in the starlight(bluexErune) so its less short and develops more to the relationships. Dancing Scene will still apply.     Rewrite Bluebird(Blue x Vio) Blue at war, Vio is a damsel in distress waiting for him to come home, only having letters and little embroideries and crochet projects to litter the house with.     Rewrite Broken Glass Shattered spirit.(Vidow) Vio is ignoring Shadow for deep studies, Shadow goes off to find something interesting to do and has a run in with a few threatening old friends. Rewrite Angels Flying High, Originally this fic was a RedxShadow Pure angst where Red Died, and Shadow destroyed the mirror a second time just so he could get that final ounce of happiness with him. However, I’m going to change its full aspect and Make it Angel!Red Au. It will still be Shadow x Red. Rewrite Sunsets and Lavender tea (Blue x Shadow) Poor Blue is suffering nightmarish trauma from being frozen alive and Shadow is there to help *cool~* his spirits (I’ll go back in the bad berry corner again) Rewrite Darkness Within: Green/Red Corruptive AU. At a last ditch effort to save the dying light that Red brought to the world, Green performs a dangerous and irrational ritual which results in Red becoming a creature of darkness. At first Red is weary, and its oh so torturous trying to tango with such a creature when He can only come out during the hours that one needs to sleep, but its so worth it when people suddenly become less afraid of Shadow because of Red’s doings. (Look lorulians can be nice people too, don’t fight me ) Rewrite: Everything is okay (Vidow Angst) Vio sustains injuries on the battle field by a mob of Moblins, Blue took his eyes of his back for only a second, only to turn and watch him be run through with a lizzal spear. Blue has a panic attack, He promised Shadow he’d make sure vio came home unharmed.. Vio almost dies, but miraculously was saved by a fairy and a very, Very upset travelling shadow.  These will not be redone in the exact ordering of this post.    

#blurbry rambles #Blurbry Writes #four swords #four swords mentioned #Shipping mentions #vidow mentions #fs link shipping mentioned #blurune mentioned

[heart-songs]

xxi. monet July prompt by @nosebleedclub

When I was in the eighth grade, my French teacher assigned a project on the impressionist painters. Even though I’ve always loved art, the announcement made me cringe. I cringed because it seemed like just another in a long line of school projects that had been assigned that year. I cringed because I loved art, but… Did art have to become homework too?

Then, I started researching - Monet, Renoir, Cassatt, Van Gogh, Cezanne – and something shifted. Inside. It stopped feeling like work and started feeling like more. I spent hours reading bios and choosing paintings to analyze. Hours writing and cutting and pasting. Hours carefully color coordinating and laying out each page, then illustrating cover sheets for each section in freehand script with a fancy, gold pen.

The result was my own impressionist piece of art. One I was proud to hand in and even prouder to get back. Not just because of the glowing comments from my teacher, neatly etched into the back cover in red ink. But because I couldn’t wait to hold it again – this inanimate object which somehow had become a living, breathing part of me. Because even though I didn’t fully comprehend it at the time, all those hours spent on this project were hours spent getting to know myself, nurturing a deeper appreciation for art and everything it represents. The unique perspective of an individual. A person’s actual beating heart and brilliant soul, out there on display for all the world to see.  

And my love for impressionist art never left me. It was there when I saw Titanic for the first time and recognized Monet's water lilies and Degas's ballerinas. It was there every time I saved up to purchase an art print or couldn’t leave a bookstore without browsing for a new book on Impressionism. It was there in that one semester of art history, as I sat in a crowded university auditorium, beaming at the sight of The Star, A Goodnight Hug, and Luncheon of the Boating Party on the overhead projector. Even last month, it was there as I sorted through a box of childhood memorabilia and came across that eighth-grade project. I looked through the pages, remembering the paintings, remembering my thirteen-year-old self who felt this indescribable spark when she discovered the beauty and the freedom of the impressionist movement. It’s here, right now, as I write these words, emotion still spilling onto the page…

I guess it’s true, what they say. We are shaped by a million little things in this life – most of which we would never be able to predict or control. All we can do is be open, and when something speaks to our hearts, listen.

#thoughts #feelings #memories #self discovery #growth #monet #art #impressionists #impressionism #spilled ink #my writing #cora finch #heartsongs #prose #prompts #nosebleedclub #july prompt challenge

[some27-url]

Writer Chat Tag Game!

Some spoilers for my writing below!

I was tagged by @possumteeths 😗

What us your total posted wordcount on AO3?

307,786

Do you have a routine for writing?

I've dabbled with different ways to get *in the zone* and actually put out good words without getting derailed, but there isn't anything solid. My best performing routine is: put baby down to sleep, IMMEDIATELY lock self in a room away from husband and animals, chug a coke zero and eat two pieces of candy. This almost always results in me managing to start really writing within, like, an hour and a half? Which means I'll get in like 45 minutes of actually writing before it's time to take care of the baby again.

What are your favorite tropes/pairings

Bodyguard romance, ofc

And there was only 👏 one 👏 bed 👏

Unrequited love that's actually totally requited.

Pairings where one person romanticizes the other to the point that they miss/ignore enormous red flags, hopefully making the reader a little uncomfortable :) like with Princess Leo being an unrepentant liar and Deacon literally killing innocent people to protect Whisper from an imagined danger. (He has to be sure though, right?) I guess I just like to show that you never quite know what someone else is thinking and that anything can happen and that the world is a spooky place.

Do you have a favorite fic of yours?

Deacon/Whisper might be my current fave. RJ and Leo will always hold a special place in my heart, though.

Your fic with the most kudos?

Inclusions is at 169! Weee!

Anything you don't like about your writing?

Some of the background characters are flatter than I'd like. I try to write them as if I had a binder full of backstory workd out for each one without actually having a binder full of backstory worked out for each one, which means that... well, continuity can be a nightmare at times and so not everyone gets the best treatment I can give.

I also wish I could be more descriptive, I just have a hard time knowing what to include. I try to include as little as possible bc nothing turns me off to a reading experience faster than like a fit check followed by an in-depth description of their appearance followed by the precise degree of the angle at which they have cocked their hip out like!! No one is going to notice all that about someone unless they are fucking creepily obsessive with zero tact!! For someone to notice every thing about every outfit and every setting and every expression all the time? It's an automatic DNF in my mind. Too much mental work for me to imagine things precisely the way the author sees it and I have to assume I'm not the only one that feels that way so i dont write that way... But still I could stand to paint a clearer picture at times. Just because I know where the desk is in the room doesn't mean everyone does, etc.

Oh and too many of my sentences start with nouns/pronouns. That is something I specifically look for in later stages of editing but sometimes it's like pulling teeth to fix because, again, I have an almost pathological aversion to detail.

Now something you do like?

Something I've really focused on improving and which I feel I've improved a great deal is pacing during sex scenes. It's hard to draw out the prose long enough to make the reader really live in the moments that are... simple but repetitive? Lol. But it's something that bothered me enough about the first scenes I wrote that I honed in on the skill and I feel like I write some damn good stuff now! Even if it's kinda fucked up sometimes! And it's funny bc I decided to start writing fanfic unsure that I would even write any smut at all. I thought I'd be too embarrassed and I looked at writing fic as a way to develop skill so I could write original YA fiction someday. HA!!

Also, allowing the narrator's internal voice to bleed into their dialogue the way i do is something that I am very proud of bc it's what's allowed me to even write words in the first place. It was the change in my approach to writing that allowed me to actually complete and be proud of a scene for the first time, and I feel like its sort of unique and therefore engaging, so... Win/win.

I am tagging @danses-with-dogmeat and @twosides--samecoin and @pumpkinov !

#fallout 4 fanfiction #fallout 4 #writing #fo4 #tag games

[lovely-jily]

potions and locked closets

hey!! sorry this is such a long fic BUT i just wanted to say that i’m also working on this same fic but from lily’s pov lmk if you’d want that:))) thanks and i love you all so freakin much <3

James tried to steady his breathing. His heart was already beating too quickly for his liking, and he hadn't even seen her yet. He was already surprised that she agreed to be his partner; they both know that it would likely be another hour of pointless bickering but nonetheless. Lily Evans had agreed to partner with James for their weekly project Slughorn had assigned. She finally said yes to something.

"Fine," she had said after he asked her, following it up with, "But I'll undoubtedly need help with Transfiguration this week, so if you swear to help me, then I suppose we can partner."

In all honesty, James wasn't having too much trouble with his Elixer to Induce Euphoria, but he just wanted an excuse for Lily to be with him. And maybe if she saw that he had matured at least a little bit, it would make her start to tolerate him.

If that were even possible.

The dungeons were decently empty, but Lily had intentionally reserved the potions room in advance so no one else would be around. Meaning they would be completely and totally alone.

When he walked into the room, she was fiddling with the size of the fire under the cauldron. She was at the desk she usually sat in, the second row to the left, with her back to him.

"Evening Evans," He said, setting his bag on the table and standing next to her, "I see you've started already."

"Well, I actually want a good score on this," She exhaled through her mouth and flipped through her Potions book, her dainty fingers lingering on the words "Elixer to Induce Euphoria".

"I'm right there with you," he said, rolling up his sleeves. He watched Lily's eyes dart from his arms back to her textbook. From what James could see, she already gathered the ingredients and had them neatly organised in front of them.

"Alright, you can start by skinning these then?" She said, swiftly handing him the Shrivelfigs.

"Got it," he noted the way her eyes darted up to his for a second when she was handing him the Shrivelfigs, their skin touching momentarily. While it was only a second, it was long enough to cause James to hitch his breath in an all too noticeable way.

He started skinning the flower, trying to ignore the way her perfume smelled or the curve of her jaw. She tied her hair up in a low ponytail, pulling out tiny wispy hairs that framed her face. He chastised himself for the dirty thoughts that followed, but, Jesus, he couldn't help his want to do the most unholy things to her when she did that.

She started working on porcupine quills as he attempted to pull himself together.

"I wish we got Amortentia."

James took a sharp inhale, resulting in him coughing on his own spit. She, Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans who insisted she hated every fibre of his being every day since they were twelve, wanted to make a love potion with him- James! James Potter! As in the same James Potter that she would shoot daggers at any excuse, the boy she would scold any second she could, the boy-

"It's just so much more of a challenge compared to this one," she finished.

Right. Of course. That's why Lily wanted to make that potion, no other reason, as much as James wanted there to be.

"At least we didn't get Felix Felicis. That takes a while," He ignored the feeling of his heart sinking and his stomach twisting as he finished up the Shrivelfigs. He should've known that was the reason, but he couldn't help but innocently jump to conclusions with her.

"What did Amortentia smell like for you?" She asked, causing James to start jumping to conclusions again.

How do I answer this honestly without giving away the fact that I smelled her?"

"Fresh bread, rain, and- uh- my mother's shampoo," He mentally kicked himself for bringing up his mother, but it was the quickest thing he could think of on the spot, "What about you?"

She sighed, stirring in the quills, "The ocean, my mum's hot chocolate and a cologne of some kind, but I couldn't place where that one was from."

A pang of jealousy beat along with James's heart as he thought about her smelling another lads cologne. Whoever he was, he was a prick.

She shook her head quickly as she seemed to panic for a moment, hastily saying, "Anyways, I'm sure it doesn't matter."

She fiddled with the ladle, brushing the few hairs out of her face. Her cheeks were bright red.

"You alright there, Evans?" He asked as he turned to look at her. He swallowed what felt like all his dignity and pride but was actually just the extra spit that always was around with Lily.

"Just fine," She cleared her throat and handed him the Sopophorous beans, not looking at him, "Would love it if you could start working on these, though."

"Got it," he mumbled as he started dicing the beans.

"No, Potter," His heart lightened a little at the sound of his name in her voice, even if it was to chastise him, "Those are far too small. They'll dissolve too quickly."

"What do you mean, this is how Slughorn does it-"

"Slughorn always cuts things too small, but he makes up for it by moving a little quicker-"

"Well, that's stupid. What kind of a teacher-"

"James," She looked up at him, sighing, and despite her exhausted expression, his lungs lifted immensely at the sound of his first name. She never used his first name.

"Yes, Evans?"

"Could you perhaps go find more in the Potions closet? I think it'll just make things a lot easier."

"Got it."

The closet was cluttered, full of misplaced ingredients from students whose first priority clearly wasn't organisation. After a solid minute of staring at the mess, he called her in to help him.

"What do you mean 'Can't find them'- I just saw them," she huffed, shoving herself next to him in the tight space. James would be lying if he said he didn't do this on purpose but let the boy live. He would take any excuse to be in close proximity to the girl.

"Not sure how anyone could find anything in here. I feel bad for the poor bloke who has to clean this during detention," He said, hands on his hips as she stood in front of him, green eyes scanning the shelves. The closet door closed behind her, and while they weren't any closer than they were by the desks, it almost felt like she was right on top of him. It was taking his total concentration to not think about shoving her against the door and having a long-awaited snog.

"It'll probably be Sirius," she said, glancing at him, a smirk on her face.

He chuckled as he looked at the messy shelves, suddenly shy from her eye contact, "Probably. Maybe we should leave him a note."

They faced each other, her back towards the door and his towards the shelves of messy ingredients. There was just enough room between them for her to fold her arms against her chest, her smile making James's lungs feel extra airy, "Or we can charm the Wolfsbane to fall off every time he tries to put it away."

James laughed, shaking his head as he looked down at her. Their faces were only inches apart, and his heart was beating so hard he was worried she could feel it.

"You know, for such a stickler for rules, you're quite creative with pranks."

She smirked, "I've learned that you can get away with a lot more if you aren't so obnoxious about it."

James let out a fake, dramatised gasp, "You?! A Prefect breaking rules?"

She just shrugged, a smirk still painted on her face. James took a second to look at her, feeling fortunate that not only was he was in the potions closet with her, but she had chosen to carry a conversation with him. This friendly banter was still a little rare, even though they had been getting a little closer lately. Since the incident at the end of fifth year, roughly nine months ago, James decided to get his act together. Mainly for the sake of Lily, but also the threat of war was becoming more than just rumours, and he knew that a war was no place for an immature bully like himself. He was not a person that he- or really anyone- was proud of, and he wasn't okay with that.

James was about to say something when her eyes lit up at something behind his head.

"There it is!" She said and reached her arm out to grab something just next to his ear.

Under normal circumstances, James would've been disappointed that she found it because it probably meant that his time in a closet with her, the girl he's wanted to shag since he had first laid eyes on her, was now over.

However, when Lily reached forward to grab whatever they were looking for (James had since forgotten. Other things had occupied his mind the past couple of minutes), she had subconsciously pressed her body up against his. In a panic, James put his hands on her waist. They both looked at each other with panicked eyes when they realised what was going on, faces close enough that James felt her heavy exhale as she attempted to catch her breath. Her eyes darted to his lips as he was suddenly aware of how naked they felt without hers on them. He instinctively bit them.

James cleared his throat and politely turned his head away from her, trying to reduce the awkwardness.

"Er-Um-Sorry," He said, taking his hands off her waist and shoving his hands into his pockets. Lily's hand was still grasping the beans behind him, and she was staring at him, seemingly debating something. Feeling shy and awkward as she studied his face, James was staring at her left earlobe, noticing the freckle resting next to her small pearl earring.

"Don't worry about it," She mindlessly whispered, still looking intently at him. She seemed to be deep in thought and was not thinking about the words she was saying.

James was just surprised she wasn't showing any signs of being uncomfortable. He would've guessed that she would be yelling at him by now.

"So-uh- I guess we should get-" James cleared his throat as he reached for the door handle behind her. He was nervous under Lily's stare and was having a hard time keeping composure. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, and that honestly bothered him more than if she was yelling at him. At least he knew how she felt then, but he was entirely in the dark right now, "We should get going. The potion's probably been simmering for too long."

Lily blinked and shook her head as if leaving a deep trance. Suddenly embarrassed and blushing, she nodded her head and cleared her throat.

"Right," She said as James tried the door handle.

It didn't move.

He tried it again.

Nothing.

"Well, shit," James said, trying to jiggle the door handle again with both hands despite knowing it wouldn't work. She probably thought he did this on purpose (Which wouldn't be a terribly bad idea if James wasn't so afraid of her), "It's locked."

Lily's eyes widened in a panic, and she promptly turned around, trying the door handle for herself. When it inevitably didn't work, she turned back around and sighed as she leaned against the door, looking up. She groaned and brushed the hair out of her face.

"I forgot that Slughorn keeps it locked," She said, still huffing, "Normally, it doesn't matter because he just keeps it open, but..."

James felt his pockets for his wand and remembered he left it on the desk, "You haven't got your wand, do you?"

Lily looked down as she felt her own pockets, looking back up as she shook her head.

It was then, at the sight of a dishevelled Lily Evans, that James realised that he was locked in a closet with her, and he had a hard time remembering why this was such a bad thing. He tried to shove out the thoughts that entered at the way she looked dishevelled and breathing heavily. The things he would do to be the one making her look like that...

"Sorry, Evans. I feel partially responsible for this predicament," He shook his head, trying to regain self-control. What was he thinking? This was Lily Evans he was thinking about. The girl who never failed to let him know just how much she wanted to strangle him at any given moment.

She said nothing, instead resumed studying his face. He sheepishly messed up his hair, unsure what to do with his body under her gaze.

"Oh, Christ, James," She said in annoyance, biting her lip softly.

"What did I do? I didn't know about the lock!" James said defensively, finding it odd that she was just now getting mad at him.

She rolled her eyes and just looked at him.

"Fuck it," She said, and before James could form a confused expression, her hands were pulling his neck forward, and her lips were being slammed against his.

"What the fuck?" James said, shock widening his eyes as he pulled away slightly. He clearly was baffled beyond logical thinking and reason because Lily would be shoved up against the door if he were thinking clearly. There was no way that Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans that swore she wouldn't ever go out with him not even nine months ago, had just kissed him. Passionately, at that.

"Are you complaining?" She asked, a soft smirk resting on the lips that James was just kissing.

"What-No? Of course not, I just-"

"Then shut up," She whispered, feeling her way from his neck to his tie, which she pulled him forward with so their faces were close again, "And give me a good snog."

"Yes, ma'am," James smirked and tilted his head, pushing her against the door and kissing her firmly without a second thought.

#jily #jily fic #james and lily #james potter and lily evans #james potter supremacy #james and lily potter #lily and james #lily evans and james potter

[sarcasticfina]

for: @no-other-lovrr who asked for Darcy/Bucky-- either Darcy reacting to Bucky's FATWS haircut or getting introduced as Dr. Lewis. I hope this satisfies, thanks so much for donating!

just a head’s up, i haven’t watched FATWS yet. or wandavision, actually. i’ve just seen gifs, but i’m aware darcy has her doctorate in astrophysics— color me proud!

__________

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite crime fighting duo.” Darcy flopped down in a seat at the outdoor table of a small bistro Bucky and Sam were trying to inconspicuously share.

Sam snorted. “Say it a little louder so the whole joint hears you.”

Darcy grinned, painted red lips curled broadly. “I’m sorry, did I spoil your undercover meet up? Because those sunglasses and baseball caps were definitely hiding your identity.” She gestured to the various other people around them, whispering and snapping pictures.

“Okay, all right.” Sam removed his sunglasses, tucked them into the collar of his shirt, and gestured impatiently. “Did you bring it?”

“Captain, my Captain, of course I did.” Darcy stole the untouched lemon danish sitting on a plate in front of Bucky and tore off a bite. “Did you bring it?”

Sam elbowed Bucky.

With a long, utterly exasperated sigh, Bucky leaned down and grabbed out a bag. “I had to break into a high security warehouse for this thing. There were explosives involved.”

“And aerial acrobatics, I’m sure.” Darcy made a ‘gimme’ gesture with her hand. “Tit for tat, Sarge. I hack top secret information for you, you bring me shiny things. I’d settle for diamonds, but experimental gadgets I shouldn’t know about are just as fun.”

Handing the bag off to her, Bucky rested his elbows on the table and leaned in, eyebrow raised. “You know how to use that thing?”

“You mean you didn’t lift the operational manual with it?” she joked.

Bucky huffed. “Just don’t test it out on me.” He shoved a thumb in Sam’s direction. “He’s got the morning free if you need a little target practice.”

“Man.” Sam sucked his teeth irritably. “Why does every conversation you two have result in you sacrificing me?”

“It’s for the greater good,” Bucky and Darcy chorused.

Laughing, Darcy winked at them. “Don’t worry so much. I’d never test it on either of you. I like you too much.”

“You like what we can steal for you too much,” Bucky muttered.

“That too.” She hooked the bag over one shoulder and pulled her purse into her lap, taking out a stack of dark brown file folders, held closed with thick elastics. She dropped them on the table with a thunk; it made the cups and plates rattle noticeably. “I got everything you asked for, plus a little you didn’t, because it seemed relevant. And because only one of you is a dinosaur, I also made Sam a flash drive, just in case you want to skip the paper.”

Grinning, Sam dragged it all toward himself. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Doc.”

Darcy tucked her hands under her chin and preened. “You always say the sweetest things.” She raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “Well?”

He blinked at her. “Thank you, Doctor Lewis.”

“Like pulling teeth,” she sighed. “It’s too bad too. With that snazzy new haircut of yours, that face could sweep a brilliant doctor right off her feet.” Standing from the table, she patted her bag of stolen goods. “Alas, I’ll have to do with unregulated weapons of questionable origins. Well, you know how to find me when you need me. Bye, boys!” Blowing a dramatic kiss farewell, she turned on her heel and exited the patio.

Without her gaze on him now, Bucky let his own linger on her as she took her leave, dark curls swaying against her back. Much as she always did, Darcy tended to leave a gap in her wake, as if her personality took up so much space it took a moment to adjust to her absence. It was a strange feeling to have about a woman he only ever got to meet for a few snark-filled minutes at a time, trading her hacked intel for whatever mysterious item she’d dug up for them to get her. Usually, it was something that suggested at Asgardian origins, though sometimes she just liked shiny things that piqued her interest. Plus that one time she wanted a modified taser to “add to her collection,” whatever that meant.

Darcy wasn’t always a necessity. There were other ways to get information, but they were usually shadier, and didn’t come with the same guarantee of not being redacted or adjusted by whoever was giving it to them. If Bucky were honest, he preferred Darcy because she was as far away from his world as someone still apart of it could get. Aware of everything going on, but not jaded by it. She knew everything he’d done, everything he was still a part of, and she still stole his danish and joked with him. There was an acceptance there that he craved. It helped too that she was just as beautiful as she was smart, and she was dangerously smart.

“You ever gonna do something about that?”

“And ruin a perfectly good working relationship?” Bucky plucked up his danish, where Darcy’s red lipstick could still be seen. He took a bite out of it and shrugged. “Maybe one day.”

________

-> i'm currently filling prompt fills as a thank you to those who donate. details here!

#darcy lewis #no other lovrr #ducky fic #darcy fic #darcy x bucky #fanfic #prompt fill

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 23 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke with a start at the sound of something slamming to the point of cracking – a door thrown too hard, perhaps, or the shattering of a piece of furniture under the strength of a powerful cultivator.

Dazed at having been woken so abruptly at such a late hour, he at first thought that the sound was an aberration of some sort, someone making too much noise by mistake, even some cultivation maniac doing exercises in the middle of the night that had briefly lost control, but then the sounds continued, crashing and slamming and even indistinct shouting.

Indistinct, and unfamiliar, but still recognizable – that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

Lan Qiren had never heard him shout before.

He stood up, instinctively checking over his clothing and fixing his forehead ribbon, and padded out towards the door to the hallway. The array used to create enough silence to let him sleep was glowing faintly, doing its work against overwhelming odds, but Lan Qiren didn’t hesitate to dismiss it and pull open the door, poking his head out to see what was going on.

“ – what use are you?” Wen Ruohan was shouting, some distance down the hall. “Good-for-nothing bitch! What do you think I got you for in the first place?”

He was standing outside his wife’s door.

Lan Qiren had not seen Madame Wen on this visit, other than in passing. He’d been relieved to discover that he had heard accurately and that she had not suffered on account of what she had done, except perhaps as a result of her husband making clear that he would give her exactly what he had promised her out of their marriage and nothing more. Despite that, every time she saw him, she generally had an expression that resembled smelling something bad, and he didn’t especially want to deal with her irrational jealousy. 

(Lan Qiren could understand and even appreciate the truth that she had shown him, but it didn’t mean he appreciated the reasoning behind her actions - just as Wen Ruohan might appreciate the cunning and ambition demonstrated by her actions, and begrudgingly acknowledge that the real fault for their divide was his own actions, but not feel any more inclined to her as a result.)

Lan Qiren thought he might have to deal with her more, particularly on the few times he had visited little Wen Xu, who was already a size or two larger than he’d started out – it was simply shocking in terms of how much time had passed since he’d had his argument with Wen Ruohan – but he found that the child was largely being watched by servants, not the Madame, who was busy ruling the social scene of the Nightless City. Whether that was true or merely an excuse, by now it was clear that they were in mutual agreement that they did not want to spend any time in each other’s presence.

She was also, very clearly, refusing to let Wen Ruohan into her bedroom.

Lan Qiren couldn’t blame her: he’d never seen Wen Ruohan in a state like this. His clothing was mussed up, his hands clenched, his face red, his aura frighteningly strong and overwhelming, his monstrously powerful qi roiling the air in the hallway into an incipient storm – and even from the distance he was standing, Lan Qiren could smell the distinct odor of strong liquor, suggesting that Wen Ruohan had overindulged in alcohol at some point after Lan Qiren had gone to sleep. Based on casual mentions in prior conversation, Lan Qiren knew that Wen Ruohan’s cultivation level was so high as to render him largely unaffected even by significant drinking, but the fact that he had bothered to try to seek solace in the wine jar suggested that there was something incredibly wrong with his mental state. 

It wasn’t a qi deviation - the violent emanations were unsettled, but not distorted - but it wasn’t good, either.

Wisdom would counsel that Lan Qiren keep back and not get in Wen Ruohan’s way.

Righteousness, on the other hand…

Anyway, Wen Ruohan was his sworn brother. What sort of brother would Lan Qiren be if he took only the good and not the bad?

“Da-ge?” he called, stepping out into the hallway. “Da-ge, come away from there.”

Wen Ruohan turned to him, and his expression was frightening. “Fine. You’ll do,” he growled, and it was only because Lan Qiren had grown wiser and stronger that he realized what was about to happen and dodged before Wen Ruohan could grab him, darting back into his room.

Wen Ruohan followed him in.

“What happened?” Lan Qiren asked, still backing away. “You were fine at dinner – what happened since then?”

For some reason, that set Wen Ruohan off again, turning his attention away from Lan Qiren, and he grabbed the table and threw it into the wall, smashing it all to pieces. 

“That fucker,” he snarled, his eyes blank and distant. He wasn’t angry at Lan Qiren, that much was clear, but he was filled with ceaseless rage, and he was taking it out on everything around him. “That fucker got married! He’s got a son!”

Lan Qiren blinked. “…what?”

Smash went the cabinet, and all the various things on it. At least Wen Ruohan hadn’t started in on the paintings, which were the only aspect of the room Lan Qiren actually cared or worried about.

“Who got married and had a son?” Lan Qiren asked, even though he knew it would only inflame Wen Ruohan further. At this point, it was clear that Wen Ruohan’s had gotten stuck in his chest, like black blood that needed to be coughed; he needed to vent his anger or else it would curdle within him and he would suffer. “Normally that’s a good thing, a cause for celebration. Why is it bad here?”

“Because it’s Lao Nie!” Wen Ruohan burst out, and Lan Qiren rocked back on his heels in shock.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known that Lao Nie had been unusually distracted these past few months, even most of a year – the way he’d ignored or disregarded Lan Qiren’s letters about the situation with He Kexin, the breezy and almost manic tone of his replies to Lan Qiren’s brother, which Lan Qiren had seen, it all spoke of distraction and carelessness, all typical of Lao Nie, albeit of far greater severity than usual.

Nor was it truly a surprise that none of them had been informed: the Qinghe Nie had always been idiosyncratic about their personal details, unusually secretive and fiercely proud of it. They did not share their birth date or even year, other than for arranging a marriage. If Lan Qiren had thought about it, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out that Lao Nie would have married and had a child all without having shared any information on the subject until afterwards.

Only…

“But aren’t you – with him?” he asked, and knew immediately that he had asked the wrong question.

Wen Ruohan roared and smashed yet another thing, sending a palm strike through a dresser and denting the stone wall with the power of it. “He’s mine,” he spat. His eyes were even redder than usual, the sclera becoming red alongside the iris; it made him look almost possessed, almost as if he really were having some sort of qi deviation. “He’s mine, damn it! Who is he to give himself to another? And he didn’t even tell me…!”

They were definitely in a relationship, Lan Qiren confirmed to himself. His guess had been right. There could be no doubt about it. And yet, despite it all, Lao Nie had –

No, he couldn’t even express surprise. Lan Qiren knew Lao Nie, knew what he valued and how he valued it: Lao Nie had always been passionate and powerful, strong and superior, friendly and often kind, and yet at his core he was ruthless, careless, and selfish, just like Wen Ruohan was so often selfish. He did not concern himself overmuch with questions of righteousness, other than to the degree necessary to win glory to his sect as one on the righteous path. After his sect, which he valued most of all, he was an indolent pleasure-seeker, with terrible taste in partners, the more dangerous the better; Lan Qiren had seen him flirting with people left and right long after he’d concluded that he’d entered into a relationship with Wen Ruohan.

In the past, Wen Ruohan hadn’t seemed to mind. If anything, he’d even encouraged him, looking smug and amused by the flirtations, taking the other man’s victories as his own; during one incident that Lan Qiren could recall, he’d all but applauded when Lao Nie had successfully wooed some rogue cultivator and taken her back to his bed, turning instead to his own separate amusements after.

Then again, that wasn’t a marriage.

(Of course, Wen Ruohan himself had also gotten married…)

“How dare he,” Wen Ruohan said, panting a little from his own exertion, clearly more moved by the feelings raging within him than any type of physical exhaustion. “How dare he – does he think I’m desperate? Pathetic? Does he think I’d run after him, begging and humiliating myself..? I don’t need him at all!”

He turned once more, and this time his gaze focused on Lan Qiren.

“I have something of my own already,” he murmured, and this time Lan Qiren wasn’t fast enough to stop him as he caught him up in his arms, slamming his back against the wall.

Lan Qiren tensed, suddenly for a moment back in his rooms in the Cloud Recesses, looking up at a different brother who wanted to hurt him – but no, Wen Ruohan wasn’t the same, Wen Ruohan liked him. He was acting out of fury, not malice; there was no He Kexin here to goad him on, nothing like that.

Even the force of being pushed against the wall hadn’t actually hurt – Wen Ruohan had been careful even in his mindless rage, making sure that any impact was cushioned by his own arms rather than Lan Qiren’s back; Lan Qiren hadn’t even had the breath knocked out of him.

“Da-ge…!”

Wen Ruohan didn’t want to hear him. He put his hand on Lan Qiren’s mouth and pressed down, cutting off speech at once. They were pressed together so closely that the movement inadvertently dragged his sleeve onto Lan Qiren’s throat, almost making him gag, and he instinctively tried futilely to kick his way out – it didn’t work, of course.

Wen Ruohan pressed up against him, the front of his body burning like flame against Lan Qiren.

“You’re mine,” he said, reaching in to nuzzle the side of Lan Qiren’s head with his cheek. “My blood brother, bound by oath and blood; my shining pearl, untouched by the world. All good things should belong to me.”

Lan Qiren reached up to try to push away the hand at this mouth, wanting to speak even though he did not know what he would say, and at first he thought he’d done it. But then suddenly he was in motion, his back landing hard on the bed he’d been given, the impact softened by the blanket Wen Ruohan had wrapped around him when he’d brought him back to the Nightless City from the Cloud Recesses. Shocked by the unexpectedness of the abrupt movement, he gasped, a wordless inhale rather than any coherent words.

Less than a heartbeat, and Wen Ruohan was on top of him, pressing him down. His body seemed even hotter than usual, as if his whole spirit were aflame, his qi boiling in the air around them until Lan Qiren had the impression as though he ought to be able to see steam; his hands were hot where they pressed down on Lan Qiren’s shoulders, his lips burning as they pressed against his collarbone, and between his legs there was something hot pressing against him, too.

And still, Lan Qiren – was not afraid.

He wasn’t sure why. He’d been terrified when it had been his brother who had stood against him, disgusted when it had been He Kexin pawing at him in ways he did not and had never wanted, but Wen Ruohan, who was bound to him through nothing but a tricked oath…

“Da-ge,” he whispered. “Please stop.”

Wen Ruohan stilled. He didn’t get up or pull away, but he didn’t make any further movements.

“Please let me go.”

Wen Ruohan’s breathing was harsh in his ear. “You, too, little Lan?” he asked. “Just like him, making me think – don’t you like me?”

“I do,” Lan Qiren admitted. He might be stupid when it came to social interactions, might be slow and miss things that were obvious, but even he could figure out what Wen Ruohan meant, with his confession of how Lan Qiren lingered in his thoughts and in pressing him down on the bed like this while mourning the loss of Lao Nie, his lover. And maybe sometimes he needed Cangse Sanren to point things out to him, but most of the time he knew himself. This past week had made clear enough that he enjoyed Wen Ruohan’s endless indulgences in a spirit that was more than just pure brotherhood. “I do like you. But I don’t like – this.”

Wen Ruohan was silent for a long moment.

“Not this, with me,” he finally said. “Or not – at all?”

“At all,” Lan Qiren said. He had thought when he was younger that he might change, but he was increasingly sure that he wouldn’t, that this was just what he was like. “I was never like the others my age. Even Yueheng-xiong, who I would’ve thought loved nothing but mathematics and explosions, has found himself distracted by the shape of the one he likes. But not me. I don’t yearn the way they do. I can love a person’s spirit, but I never much cared for the flesh.”

“Love,” Wen Ruohan echoed, his voice oddly uneven. “You speak of - love?”

“…isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

Wen Ruohan laughed, a jagged and choked up thing, and then he pulled away, letting Lan Qiren go, sitting up on the bed and burying his face in his hands. The qi around him was still too-hot, overwhelming, pulsing with his feelings, even as his shoulders shook and he stared blankly at the wall; any other man, and Lan Qiren might think he was crying, but he could see Wen Ruohan’s face through his fingers, and there were no tears there.

Perhaps he’d forgotten how.

Lan Qiren slowly sat up himself.

He could still feel the mild stiffness of old healing injuries, but he ignored them and got up off the bed, going to the one side table that had yet to be destroyed – the one where he’d laid his guqin to rest. It turned out that Wen Ruohan had only destroyed the things he himself had put into the room; he hadn’t touched anything of Lan Qiren’s.

Lan Qiren settled in front of his guqin and began to play.

Out of all the compositions he had created, his favorite was the one he had first created at the Nightless City, that strange hypnotic melody that brought to mind spilled pearls, but unlike some of the others he’d worked on, it had never felt fully completed. The music wrapped itself around the listener, at first intimate and then oppressive, a heavy stone in their chest and pressure on their skull, growing darker and darker, just as he’d written it – but now he played onwards, elaborating on the theme in ways he hadn’t planned or expected, letting the solemn notes brighten, the overwhelming pressure turning from suffocating into safe as it became clear that it would cause no harm, the storm passing by overhead and leaving things clean and clear and better, the lingering euphoria of finding oneself supported, rather than alone.

When his fingers finally stilled, Lan Qiren looked up and saw Wen Ruohan sitting there with his back straight again, hands resting gently in his lap, eyes closed as if in meditation and face calm once more. His qi no longer coiled around him, lashing out; it had settled once more.

“You will,” Wen Ruohan said without opening his eyes, “be an excellent traveling musician, little Lan. People will fight for the right to hear you, and you will never go without an audience.”

Lan Qiren hesitated, not sure what to make of such a compliment, or what Wen Ruohan meant by it. He’d only intended to play something to help him settle his qi and soothe his rage, which he’d clearly accomplished. He hadn’t even meant to play that particular song, other than in the way that he tended to default to it when he had nothing else specific in mind. It had always been unsatisfying, like an itch, but now it finally felt complete.

“Da-ge –” he started to say, not knowing what he would say next, but at any rate he never had the chance to continue.

“When you do finally go to fulfill your dreams, leaving the dust of the world behind you, I hope that you visit the Nightless City often,” Wen Ruohan said. His tone was still calm, settled, but not, Lan Qiren observed, peaceful: there were all sorts of seething emotions underneath it. “But for the moment, I think it is better if you return to the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Qiren hesitated once again, this time feeling a little hurt. “You don’t want me here?”

“I do,” Wen Ruohan said, and his lips curved into something that was not a smile; it seemed almost painful a shape to contort into, and his eyes reflected no humor at all when he opened them. “Very much. Ah, little Lan, if only you knew…despite that, I would still have you go. Having made my views on you clear to your brother, it should be safe, and I do not want you to see what beast I make of myself when I am denied.”

Lan Qiren bowed his head a little. “About Lao Nie…”

“I know what he’s like,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’ve always known, from the start. If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have said that I did not have any illusions…”

He smiled bitterly.

“It seems that I misjudged myself.”

“I’ll go,” Lan Qiren said. He didn’t especially want to, but Wen Ruohan wasn’t in a rage, nor lashing out unthinkingly. To refuse him would be to deny him, to treat him as if he could not make his own decisions, and that, he thought, would be worse. “If you want me to, I’ll go, and later, I’ll return.”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but he watched as Lan Qiren pulled on some more clothing, not caring which one it was, and did his hair back up in the simplest style, favoring speed over substance; he packed away his guqin and his sword and one of the paintings that he had liked best, but took nothing else – after all, it wasn’t as if he were going away for good.

He made it to the door before hesitating, then turned back to look at Wen Ruohan, who was still watching him.

“Is there anything…?” he asked haltingly. “Something I can get you…?”

“Send one of the maids to me,” Wen Ruohan said. “Any of them, it doesn’t matter which. If they’re still hanging around in the family quarters after an eruption like that, it can be seen that their ambition has overcome their good sense, making them a perfect match for me. It would be a shame to deny them the fruits of their victory.”

Lan Qiren didn’t quite understand, but he knew enough to get the gist; he felt his cheeks and ears go hot. Still, he had offered, and it wasn’t something he was willing to do himself, so there was really no basis for refusing to pass along the request. He nodded and slipped out – as Wen Ruohan predicted, there was one of the maids lingering at the far corner, looking around in blatant curiosity. She was pretty enough, Lan Qiren supposed, with an upturned nose and a slightly arrogant air, her clothing carefully arranged to be just a little mussed in a way that Lan Qiren understood most men to find attractive.

“Your sect leader is in my room,” he told her, and she blinked at him. “If you go to him now, he’d probably accept. Up to you, though.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He left, his head held high; when he glanced back anyway, he saw her going into his room, hair patted down and clothing even more carefully arranged – Wen Ruohan hadn’t been wrong when he speculated as to her ambitions. The life of a powerful sect leader, Lan Qiren supposed: desired but never known, as distant from those around him as Lan Qiren but as a consequence of his position rather than his inclination.  

He would definitely return, Lan Qiren decided. Perhaps he would even make the Nightless City the first destination on his travels. After all, why should he not? Was Wen Ruohan not his sworn brother, too?

Yes, Lan Qiren thought. That was right.

Wen Ruohan deserved to have someone possess him as he longed to possess others.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

[frostedfaves]

For the Love of A Daughter

Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The mom friend (or girlfriend) sometimes needs a mom, too.

Warnings: strained relations with a parent, emotional trauma mentions, a bit of angst, very unedited fic because I refuse to reread this

A/N: surprise Natasha fic as a result of my unresolved issues so I hope you enjoy! also I feel very exposed posting this so excuse me while I hide away.

-

It was no secret that you were the ‘mother’ of the group despite being the youngest, and you were astonishingly good at it. 

You were the only person able to convince Tony to sleep at some point during the night. You protected the tower from a few Code Greens by simply knowing exactly how to bring Bruce back to the front lines of his own mind. When Thor visited, you helped him unwind with Earthly snacks and movie marathons. You also helped Natasha get in touch with her emotions more, which played a small part in the two of you getting together. 

Anyone from the Red Room knows that emotions are for children, which is why Natasha despised you at first. The first moment you noticed a crack in her hard exterior, you touched it and suddenly the whole thing was shattered. She hated that you read her so easily when her job called for being a closed book. 

Unfortunately for her, there were only so many times you could place your warm hands on her heart before she gave into the comforting heat. A few minute talk one night turned into four hours and suddenly you understood why she pushed you away so often. From then on, she leaned into your caring eyes until she fell too far forward and pressed her lips to yours. She’s been glued to you ever since. 

As time went on, the rest of the Avengers got used to you lovingly patching their wounds on the jet ride home, bringing a mug of tea to their rooms when JARVIS alerted you of nightmares. Your kindness easily slipped right into their routines, a part of you that everyone eventually and quickly grew to love.

When everyone besides Thor arrived at the tower that evening, an unsettling feeling of dread filled their senses at the silence of the main floor. You’d been out to visit your mother for the first time in a while due to missions, but you promised the group you’d be home before them to make dinner. It wasn’t that they were incapable of feeding themselves (or ordering takeout to feed themselves), but you never broke a promise. 

“JARVIS, where is our tiny mother?” 

“She has not returned from her outing, sir,” the AI quickly answered Tony and Natasha sighed. 

“I’ll call her.”

“Agent L/N has arrived, sir,” JARVIS cut in before she could pull her phone from her pocket.

“And all's right with the world again,” Clint commented with a smile, earning himself a punch in the arm by Natasha. 

“Maybe she stopped at that local bakery she likes on the way home. You know, the one that sells the Hulk-shaped cookies,” Bruce suggested as the elevator doors opened. 

Your steps seemed to echo as you entered the room until you were greeted warmly by the others, and Natasha only needed a few seconds to look you over and realize you were not yourself. You were a pro at painting a comforting smile on your face but Natasha knew an artist when she saw one, especially one she loved. 

“Boys, give us a minute.”

You watched everyone slowly file out of the kitchen to find another room to hang around in, turning to Natasha with a frown. 

“Is everything okay, Nat?”

“You tell me.” She stepped closer to you, hands landing on your shoulders and sliding down until your fingers locked together. “Something’s bothering you.”

Your instantly quivering lip and tear-filled eyes left you no room to lie, so you didn’t.

“My mom’s getting married again.” You took a deep breath to prepare yourself to open up farther than you’d ever done before. “I’m actually really happy for her because her partner is a perfect match, but they have kids.”

“Are they little demons or something? I can take care of that, you know.”

“No,” you laughed a bit, the smile falling away quickly after. “No, they’re perfect little angels and I love them...and so does my mom. Probably more than she ever loved me.”

“Don’t you two have a great relationship though?” Natasha questioned, freeing a hand to wipe away an escaped tear.

“Yeah, she likes me now, but she didn’t when it really mattered. When I was their age, I would’ve killed to receive the positive attention and compassion she shows them now, and the more I watched them together, the more I felt like maybe there was something wrong with me.”

The tears fell more frequently now, faster than Natasha could wipe them away, and the waves of hurt emitting from your expression when you locked eyes was enough to wreck her heart.

“I reached out to her so much as a child with my arms opened as wide as they could go, and every time she just stepped around them. It only motivated me more to take all the love I was deprived of and share it with someone else, but sometimes I wish it was just who I was, and not a coping mechanism that turned into a personality trait.”

Natasha pulled you in flush against her, rubbing your back and squeezing a bit tighter when you began to shake in her arms. She held her tongue as she waited for you to calm, only pulling away when your sniffles were few and far apart.

“I know the world hasn’t been fair to you, but I’m proud of who you’ve become, so proud. I love that you were able to turn something so negative and hurtful into something that not only helped you feel better, but has absolutely done great healing wonders on the people around you.”

“What?” You scoffed instantly. “Nat, I didn’t do--”

“Yes you did, babe,” she pressed. “This team wouldn’t function as smoothly as it does without your gentle guidance, and I wouldn’t feel so damn warm inside when I wake up next to you.”

A grin spread across your lips as you pulled her in to kiss you. “Well when you put it that way, I guess I do something around here.”

“You do everything and then some. But don’t forget that you deserve someone to look after you, too.” She pulled out of your embrace, keeping a hold on one of your hands. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” you asked curiously as she led you back to the elevator. “I have to get dinner started.”

Natasha simply shrugged as she pressed the button for the ground floor. “They’ll figure it out. We’re focusing on you right now.”

A short walk later, she watched with a smile as your eyes seemed to find their light again. You were approaching your favorite bakery, and you could tell even through the windows that new items had been added to the cookie section.

“Last time I was in here, I bought one that looked like the tower--” You suddenly gasped, pulling your girlfriend along with you before she could even ask what was wrong. “Look!”

Peering into the glass, she spotted her likeness in cookie form, beautifully dressed in her Black Widow suit. It was pretty flattering to see, but she couldn’t fight the cocky smirk that formed as she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“If you wanted to eat me, we could’ve just stayed home.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #the avengers #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader

[speedypandaweasel]

Hidden Treasures

Pairing - Thomas Sharpe x Fem!Reader

Word Count - 7.6K Words

Summary - A well-known thief stumbles her way inside Allerdale Hall, but it isn't just jewellery that is stolen that night.

Warnings - Fluff, heap loads of Angst and Bad writing

A/N: Hey everyone! This is something I've been working on for a few days and I'm really happy with the end result!

"How are you even driving this thing!?" You bellowed over the wailing sirens that were screeching behind you both.

You and Tom were the most notorious thieves around. You had a lustrous list of hundreds of stolen landmarks, paintings and artefacts, only to sell them at staggering heights on the black market. You had to laugh because of how desperately they wanted to take you out, by they, you meant the local police, FBI and the CIA. It wasn't your fault that their organisations were so overwhelmed with other cases, that they couldn't catch two poor burglars - and so the advantage was yours. Tom was the Brains behind your numerous heists, but you were the proud title owner of being the brawns. People didn't argue with the two of you when it came down to negotiation, especially on discussing Price. With Tom's underground reputation of swaying the opposition into handing over millions of sweet coins, you regularly handled the stragglers who didn't meet your requirements. Don't misjudge, you did feel awful when things got bloody but no one had yet died from your hands. A few trips to the Hospital sure, but it was only just enough for them to scrape pass death by a heartbeat.

Yet you were dumbfounded as to how the Hell Tom was currently plunged into the driver's seat of a stolen Royals Royce, the many boxes of valuables bouncing in the back seat, rattling and clanking their price further and further down, much to your distaste. Your eyes met with the blurring vision of street lamps and whirring small bungalows and houses, each decorated with bountiful from gardens and top-end cars. Hardly anyone was around at this hour but they were probably stirred awake by your fabulous parading through the alleyways and avenues. The lamplights continued to guide the fleeing Royce, their amber eyes towering menacingly over the criminals that were on the verge of having their identity exposed and reputation slandered.

"I- I don't know! I know what? Let's pull over and swap seats, that way they won't be able to catch us." Tom sarcastically spoke, his hands gripping the steering wheel with a force that put the wheel in danger of snapping.

The smeared front window was being abused by gusts of wind and smacks of rain, making Tom's vision even more impaired against the short-sighted road that appeared in front of him.

You, on the other hand, hadn't the foggiest as to where your companion was taking you, so gripping the side door with a force matching Tom's, you prayed you stayed on the correct - or rather the glorious detour - he was taking you on.

"Alright, Alright! " You had to come up with some miraculous way of getting out of this one. You covered your face with your make-shift mask, which was stuffed on top of your head, and reared your head around the leather passenger seat. Regrettably, you were still blinded by the red and blue lights. The mixture of crying sirens, the lashes of the heavens above and the consistent muttering coming from your friend drove you to -

"Take the next right!" You yelled. Tom's arm forcefully spun around the wheel, hurling the both of you to the left side of the car. The crunch of the wheels echoed as the car spun off the main road making you slump on top of Tom, butting heads with a muffled thud. The side of his body was a firm cushion and his hands were still framed on the helm of the car.

"And that's why you wear your seat belt." Tom chuckled.

"I found that quite nice actually" You retorted back.

You wriggled upright between the uneven texture of the road, and grasped at the thick belt and strapping yourself in, bracing for the second half of Tom's marvellous escape plan.

"What are you chuckling at?" You questioned, your eyes scanning his side features for any answers.

"Reach into the bag, and look in the small pocket inside." He smirked.

Delving into the grubby rucksack, you smile as you realise what he was entailing.

~

"GALILEO!" "GALILEO!" "GALILEO!" "GALILEO!"

The both of you sang your hearts out to the absolute banger. Ever since your first mission, Tom insisted on having a "Heist Playlist" which you would play when racing away from the authorities. "It needs to feel like something from a movie," He said, and you were definitely not doubting his music choices.

The car barrelled its way down repetitive roads and broke through to the edges of town. The petite houses became scarce and the shrubbery grew higher and higher. Your only source of artificial light dimming agonizingly quick as the car was met with a wide field with many jolts and pitfalls.

"dO yOu KnOw WhErE YoUr GoInG!?" You wobbled over the blaring sirens and Queen, as the car started to gain speed downhill.

"I HaVe No IdEa" Tom wobbled back, his face stared ahead in thrill and fright. "bUt LeT's FiNd OuT tOgEtHeR ShAlL wE?"

The hot-wired car pummelled under the darkening canopy of trees. The racketing on the top and sides of the expensive vehicle wore off the car's paint, mixing with rubber that bounced off the steaming tyres. Meanwhile, the overgrown plants meeting their demise under the wheels of the car. The backlight faded further as several Police cars deterred from pursuing the journey, such a pity. But a solid few stayed and barrelled after you, trailing the damp imprints that were left for them mercilessly.

Much more muddy swerves later, the black car gained enough speed to bid adieu to the company behind it before sneaking to its ending position in an enclosed ditch in the back end of the old field. The tall grass camouflaged the muddly escape with a satisfyingly whilst you became accustomed to hearing yours and Tom's hearts beating out of your chests, reeling from the adrenaline rush that you just experienced.

Blissful silence was finally met by you as you stared into the inky darkness in front of you, while Tom switched off the headlights and Radio. He had that stupid grin plastered on his face. "Now that is what I call a close call."

You wiped strands of hair from your face. You had to agree with him, that was probably one of the most exhilarating chases you had ever done, and with the carefully selected playlist - made it even better.

Excited hearts soon slowed down and now it was the next usual phase of tonight - the waiting game. Whenever the two of you managed to slip through an escape, there was a period of uncertainty that neither of you were fond of doing, despite it being in the criminal contract. It could be hours or small minutes until the two of you decided that the coast was clear. Since the circumstances and having a good blind spot, you could tell that the anticipation to get out of this stuffy vehicle wasn't going to last long tonight.

Tom looked at you, reclining down into his chair, his face hidden from the window view. You followed suit, letting out a breath that you didn't realise you were holding in.

~~~

"So what are we going to do now Brain?" You whispered, folding your arms across your chest. Being in a Rolls Royce was fancy but it sure was cold, and those types of things didn't help when you were stranded in the middle of nowhere in utter darkness, even your clothes were dark.

"Well, tonight Pinky, I think we're going to lay low for now and hopefully find somewhere to shelter for tonight." Tom smiled, his eyes forming amusing creases under the dusty moonlight.

And so you sat, the glowing radio sign keeping you aware of the time as the two of you waited a couple of hours, just to cement the feeling of safety. But boredom soon sunk its teeth into you as you searched around to see if there was any sign of the law enforcement.

"Can we get out now? My legs are getting cramped." You whined, trying to push your chair back.

"Well, I am, because who is going to find their way out of here?"

"Excuse me, Mr Hiddleston, are you forgetting who used quick thinking to help you out of that mess you got us into?" You protested.

"Just hang tight you sausage, I'll be back in a few minutes. Besides, wouldn't want you to get caught. Rather it be me than you." He cheekily winked.

The car door was pushed open with a grunt as Tom shuffled his dirty boots out of the car, the earth greeting them with a delightful squelch. The cold night air blew its way in through the large gap which caused a wave of goosebumps over your already chilled arms. The moment thankfully shut down as the door was quickly slammed shut. As for Tom, his black and, now, brown attire soon was submerged by the night's shadows, his hair blasted by the wind like a hairdryer. The Royce seemed to be larger now that your buddy was gone, which made your brain kick up a notch.

Deciding you should be useful instead of worry, you reached over to the back seats and started to empty your prize possessions of this evening. Pulling out many chipped statues and small paintings, you tried on a few pieces of jewellery on your fingers and around your neck, admiring how it fit graciously across your anatomy and shimmered in the starlight.

You slipped your glasses on as you analysed the chipped treasures and set to work, attempting to salvage back the price you had put on them. Some of your handiwork did the trick, yet some didn't make it by the weight of your hands, regardless of how light you brushed against it.

Concentration twisted into exhaustion as your eyes pulled closer and closer to collapsing so you popped the top mirror down and admired your dishevelled self as well as the white figure that flickered in the distance. You chuckled to yourself as you thought you resembled the appearance of a zombie: Paler than usual, designer bags underneath your bloodshot eyes, and your trashed hair - oh and the need for something to eat.

Yet there was no sign of Tom. He said he would be back in a few minutes but panic seeped in as you realised that had been over the hour.

He couldn't have walked that far, right? But he was a fast walker though, he could have gone practically anywhere with those long legs of his. What if something happened to him? What if he got caught!? The thought of Tom's yells through the abyss ran stronger chills up your spine as your leg started to bounce.

Now the car suffocated you, squeezing the breath and ramping up your heartbeat ferociously. The only source of survival was Tom's direction heading East. Darting your eyes from window to window, your brain casted grotesque picture shows of shadows.

You gnawed on your lower lip as you had a choice to make, hoping that the one you choose was the right one. Your mind shuffled through all of the possible outcomes of either situation whilst your heart was being squeezed tighter by the passing second.

"He would do the same for you."

Heaving the passenger door open, your eyes adjusted to nothing. The cold night air nipped at your fingers and face, tickling your ears. You dipped your head back into the mouth of the Royce and scanned its interior, checking to see if you haven't left any major evidence. Your police buddies would take a while in finding the artefacts despite them knowing where you went. You grimaced at all the money you were going to lose but you knew what must be done.

Tucking your glasses into the shallow pocket and gripping onto a small torchlight you found in the glove compartment, you shivered and slowly paced in the direction you last saw Tom.

~

The mud squirmed and sank below your frozen feet as they trekked and trudged through the black unknown. Your numbing arms desperately snaked around your collapsing body, conserving your body heat like it was the holy grail. Vivid silhouettes swarmed and tormented the corner of your eyes but soon evaded the thin beam of light emitting from the car's spare torch, like a heightened game of hide and seek.

"He's got to be around here somewhere." You stuttered, the perspiration being dragged from your lips by temperatures cruel fingers.

You huffed loudly. This wasn't the way your night was supposed to go. By now you should have been drinking a nice cup of tea, snuggled in your comfies before emailing your client regarding the glorified goods the two of you had in store for them. But no, you were not and oh boy was Tom going to get it when you found him.

The gusts of wind whipped around your hair and snapped at your iced fingers which dug into the side of your ribs. Nature's natural light had left you in your moment of need and had greedily replaced it with a smothering blanket of clouds. It was as though it was mocking you, daring you to try and escape its wooden clutches.

Warmth and time slipped from you like grains of sand as your subconsciousness was the survivor of this mental and physical battle. Your teeth chattering had stopped their conversation because your mouth had finally become so fed up with this personal Hell, it had lead to your body undoing each buckle on your knees.

But as the last agonizing buckle was becoming undone, your eyes soggily caught sight of something. Your mind was too numb to care if it was real or not, but if it was, then this shard of glimmering hope was the only option of getting out of this nightmare alive.

The golden orb floated on its invisible platform as you mustered the energy to track the source of this mysterious guiding light. Your tired physique dipped and swerved through the thick branches and nettles, cursing under your breath as your heavy boots snagged on underwired roots and fallen twigs.

The Moon broke free from the sky's blanket and spotlighted the origin of your lucky saviour. Finally, your blurred had a pinpoint to fix on after being blacked out for god knows how many hours.

Adjusting the lens, you scanned your partially lighter surroundings. Broken free from the wooden maze, You were once again in the barren wasteland of another field. However this time, the pinnacle of your vision was centred on a neglected building.

Its gaping roof provided some source of shelter and its weak physique mirrored the right amount of strength you currently had standing outside in this wide space. The windows, for what you could see, were stained tar-black but there! Right there, on the second floor, there was your saviour. Its idyllic light lulled you to the rustic gates.

A tired smile turned your lips upward and was pulled wider and wider as you approached the grimy borders of the building. Shining the fizzling torchlight, the silhouette hanging off this tarnished arch gave this grotty building an illustrious name.

Allerdale Hall

Sounded fancy, yet it definitely didn't replicate that adjective. But, yet again, there was no room for being fussy. Besides, you had been in worse situations before. Not many worse ones but that wasn't the point.

Picking up as much enthusiasm as you could, you walked your final, tiring steps. The limited light shone onto the grassy pathway that was sticking to your feet like gum on a shoe. Sticking?

Your eyes shot straight down at your feet and your breath quickened. Your feet were slowly being submerged in what appeared to be a brownish-red liquid. This certainly wasn't mud for sure, and it was too thick for dirt but whatever this was, you were sinking in it, and fast.

Picking up your pace and boots, you swaddled your way for the small doors at the end of this long-ass driveway, daring not to look down to see how much of your body the ground had actually swallowed hungrily.

The wind continued to pester your hair and by now you were certain that clothes had been glued to your fragile body. But as of now, there was a newfound sanctuary that drew you closer and closer to its stature. Your hope still flickered and danced in that window, its brightness enclosing your eyes further and further, like a warm hug. Hold on, could that be Tom? It seemed as though your body gained more and more strength the more steps you took.

Now your walks became urgent strides which then sped up into a full-blown sprint, skimming over the make shift-mud. The urging gusts were now the ones perishing as you ripped through them, your frozen hands gaining consciousness and the blood returning to your face; cheeks in particular.

With one last heave, your race was finally over. Boots stepped off the pathway and onto the cold, concrete porch. Well, it was a slab that was chipped and kind of left out the front. You turned around to see the long track that laid behind you, and turned the torch on with a smack. You aimed its beam into the distance, seeing how far it took before you gazed down at the ground near your grubby boots. It wasn't mud or grass at all, it wasn't even brown - it was blood-red clay. Why on earth would anyone have clay as their driveway? Mind you, new trends were coming out every day so why are you to judge.

Curiously, you crouched down to inspect further, the soft, slick texture dripped through your fingers as you got closer at it, the musky smell made your nose crinkle, indicating that this for sure hadn't aged well. You wiped it onto the numb fabric on your thigh, and your stained fingertips returned across your waist once more.

Forst-bitten ears tingled whilst near the ground, picking up any rustle beneath or around you, much to your disliking. The shaking of the trees in the distance was thankfully the only thing that you had to be aware of, well besides the delightful voice or stomping of Tom's voice and matching combat boots.

Unfortunately, you couldn't say you heard them. Yet.

Satisfied with your verdict, you stood up. The buckles tightened on your knees, crunching as they straightened. Turning back around, yet not being completely unaware of your perimeter, you now stood in front of two ginormous rotten doors that had the power to potentially flatten you whenever they wanted. Its thick bolts securing the dated locks pathetically and the little brittle brass doorknob completed this outside decor. Your eyes travelled upwards, carvings of roses, angel wings and vines daintily swirling up the sides became shaded in the torches' light. You wondered how it may have looked back in its prime? All painted and pristine, the warm texture of the brass doorknob being used by every guest entering this house. That must have been something special. So you decided to try it, just to see if it had the same effect on you as the past lives.

You wrapped your whitened knuckles around the cold handle and hit the door frame gently and you pressed your ear against the door frame, trying to hear if something happened from your actions, yet not to your luck.

You tried again, this time to give the handle a bigger and firmer thud. You danced on your feet, your free hand being warmed by your shallow breath.

"Hello? Is anyone there? It's really cold out here and I'm freezing out here so if somebody could kindly open this door, it would be greatly appreciated." You shouted at the thick door, hoping for a response. The deadpan of silence returned back.

Frustration loomed inside you like hot water, yet you maintained your composure.

"I know someone is in there, I could see a light in one of your windows." You stepped away from the door to take a look at the bright light, only its presence was no longer there.

It was right there! You followed it all this way out here and now it decided to pack up and leave? Great, just great.

"I'm looking for a friend of mine, he may have passed this way. Quite tall, black shoes and light brown hair? His name is Tom. He and I were-"

New audio cut off your ramble like a knife.

The doorway that once stood proudly, shied away, coaxing you to step through to see what mysteries lay hidden behind them.

All determination was dropped like a ton that sat in front of your shoes which lay at this new threshold. It now felt wrong to be invited in without anyone here. Was it considered trespassing if anyone caught you? Although, you would be put away for things that were much larger than walking on private property. Why was there private property out in the middle of nowhere anyway?

One grotty boot met the weak floorboards of Allerdale Hall as the other took its time following suit. The sound of your minuscule presence ricocheting off the hollow walls before settling and the battering winds ceased to tease you any longer. Only the emptiness of the manor lingered in the night air. The door closed shut with a solid click.

Yet you were too occupied by the gash in the Manors roof, which bled in the moon's glow, exposing the patterned floorboards beneath you. The red clay you had seen before outside, oozed from under them as you trodded on them lightly, being careful not to break them even further.

Meanwhile, Your eyes lit up in wonder as they drank in your surroundings. The lavish stairwell cascaded down to meet you on the bottom floor as it encased a grand corridor headed straight out in front of you. Piles upon piles of rich oak wood infrastructure greeted you with dust as you trailed your hand along its engraved swirls and ridges, its candle wicks eerily still in place. Arrays of thin, thick, tattered and torn books lined the dusty shelves with light nobility, proudly knowing they were once used in their time and the blanketed cushions and plush furniture enriched a wonderous grin on your face. Imagine having a ball in this place? All of the dust cleared clean off? glittering champagne? A full orchestra playing symphonies each night? A memory captured in time.

Your dreaming adventure wasn't over yet as your eyes met with one last magnificent piece. The beautiful chandelier was displayed graciously well above you, the stars hitting it just right, making its faded crystals twinkle up above you.

A solemn tear slid down your grinning cheek and butterflies swarmed in your tummy. Who would have thought that something so rare, so delicate had been hidden from the world and how ironic that a well-known thief should have found it?

Your tired body relaxed deeper and deeper into the experience and you let your childish endeavours take over.

Abandoning your inhibitions, you freed yourself from your current life, fluttering your eyes closed. You heard the glasses clinking and the light chatter of lords and ladies, their laughs haunting the grandly decorated estate. Ribbons and delicately placed ornaments dotted the hall radiantly and flowers bloomed in many a vibrant vase. The smell of expensive perfume mixed with delectable en trays wafted over the large assembly, tantalising your tastebuds. You looked around and examined the pearl marble underneath you. Your gorgeous reflection stared back at you and instead of seeing thick boots, your feet were now slipped inside a pair of royal heels, giving you the posture of a grand duchess. The stunning outfit choice for tonight glittered and swayed with ease to the godly melodies that blessed your ears.

The centre opened up and your fragile hand was taken by a strong one. You began gliding throughout the enchanting hall, your small laughs and sighs warmed you as you drifted around and around the room, your dress being lifted off the ground, your back securely fastened to the dashing gentleman in a delicious embrace. Whilst all eyes stare at you, and only you. Some were envious, some were supportive, but the fact that they were all focusing their attention on you made you smile even more.

The band's last harmonious chords strung out into the twilight as your audience enwrapped you with warm praises, making you feel like you were the most precious gem in the treasure box.

Your eyes fluttered open once more and you let out a shy sigh - now that was wonderful.

"Oh, how I had longed to dance with you again my love."

Reality crashed back through. Your eyes pinged open to come face to face with another. His arm was wrapped around yours and the other clasped your stained hand gently.

You stumbled backwards, tripping over your, now undone, shoelaces. Brain racing. Heart thumping. Head Spinning. Eyes scanning every detail you had previously became aware of, seeing if anything was out of place. Your ragged breath hitched as you looked to the tainted floor. Your boot prints had created a muddy circle around the floor.

Your eyes dared not look at the body that loomed over yours, his strong eyes bored into your vulnerable state like a predator at prey, but you knew sooner or later, you were going to have to look up.

His eyes lit up the moment he saw you in that motor car. Your graceful elegance was radiating, regardless of your exhausted appearance and your angelic face paled in comparison to his stained one underneath the light of the moon. The jewellery across your slender fingers fit like a gorgeous glove, further making his heart yearn to hold them once more as your mesmerizing smile drew him in even further. He knew he had to help you even though he didn't quite understand what made you appear so tiresome.

So when you caught sight of his aid in the woodland, his dead heart erupted with joy and when you followed his guidance, he couldn't anticipate welcoming you home once more, any longer. It had been centuries since he had last seen you, so to take another glance at his one and only blew a breath of fresh air into his cold, dead lungs.

Alas, it crushed him when you recoiled at his touch, launching yourself away from him, pure fear exposed on your gorgeous features - a gesture that put a dead weight on top of his heart.

However, then you did something. Something that made his own face break into a small smile and made his faith return.

You started laughing.

"Oh my God! It's just you! Ha! You really had me going for a minute!"

His face soon turned curious. "My dear, I don't understand what your insinuating?"

"Oh come off it Tom! Man, you really went all out on this one!" You continued to howl, clutching your sides. "And when were you going to tell me that you could dance?"

Face burrowing even further, he stretched a soft, strong arm out.

"Allow me to assist you, darling."

"Oh stop that" You shrugged his hand off. "I'm alright. Anyway," You clambered to your feet before coming closer to him. "Since when have you helped me up" You chuckled, dusting your clothes off.

Your eyes gazed over his outfit closely. The man had combed his black hair back and his porcelain features almost glowed under the midnight rays. His broad shoulders stood firm in front of you, underneath the worn dress shirt and royal blue fabricated waist-coat. You admired how well it fit him and how it made you slightly weak at the knees. His tailored black trousers on his legs complemented his black shoes but when your gaze travelled back up, it was his blue eyes that made time stop.

His soft eyes were hypnotized by the vision he was witnessing. Your strong personality had always seemed to impress him. For it was your wit and subtle charm that intoxicated him then, and now- right in this very moment. Yet there was a challenge that he had to endure in this short amount of time. You were very good at hiding it from the rest of the world but the anomaly that gave you away was your eyes. Behind that strong composure, there was an underlying vulnerability, suggesting that you were suppressing something that no one had noticed. To his pleasure, he had studied your face many a time and so knew that there was a subtle conflict inside of you.

Your eyes softly trailed up and down his clothes, curiosity and confusion riddled on the small creases on your forehead. It was always the small details that lured him in, opening him up to a slither of your true emotion like you did many times previously and those minutiae enticed him in when your eyes locked with his.

The swirling colours danced inches away from him, swimming deeper and deeper into his soul. He could stare at those eyes for eternity and it still wouldn't give him enough time to fully comprehend their definition.

"Tom I-I" You breathed, your lips lightly parted. His soft eyes still gazed longing into yours. "We have to get going. They're going to find us any moment now."

Your hand took his and started to drag him across to the doors. Your mind still racing with the strong pictures of his charming features. You knew Tom was attractive but you had never seen him in this light before and that made you...flustered to say the least.

"My dear, stop this foolishness." He responded calmly.

"What are you talking about? We have to, or would you rather be caught? Where's your bag? You need to change, We'll get back to the car and you can change there. I think there are some spare clothes in the trunk. Why did you do this anyway?"

You pushed open the grand doors, never looking back at your friend. The cold wind hit your face again as the cold rallied up for round two. It was still dark outside, to your dismay but you had your torch to guide the both of you back to the safety of the stolen car.

You switched it on and started your way journey back home. The partially hardened clay gripped your feet once more.

"Tom, you had me worried sick! Didn't you realise how long you had-"

You turned your head to meet his face but no one was there. Instead, the man you had searched for stood at the tall doors. His larger frame was now tiny against the towering pillars of the Manor.

You spun on your heels and met him at the entry, annoyance crept up on you the closer you got to him. You gripped his soft hand and started to walk again, but the hold fell through.

You approached him again and took his hand in yours again. The warmth escaped him and ice shot up your hand and ran through your veins.

Again, you slowly pulled his hand through the barrier slowly and his palm slipped straight through yours, like water through a sieve. Your eyebrows knotted together but abruptly rose upward.

Your breath was snatched by the figure as you just stared. Stared at the horrific sight that greeted you. What was once a vibrant young gentleman, as a mortifying substitute, was a whitened face, floating red whisps trickled down his cheek and painted his bleak body like an enticingly deadly picture.

No words were spoken as only his arm was weakly stretched out in front of him, an unrequited confession, against your coloured one.

"Don't you remember me, my love?"

You couldn't bring yourself to return the conversation as you stepped back into the Manor, the many questions choking your sanity.

He walked backwards from you and under the Mansion's gaping ceiling, his body became saturated once more as you watched on in shock and fascination.

Time drifted over the prolonged silence between the both of you as you let yourself recover from what you just witnessed. Your body ridged, daring not move either out or further into this mysterious gentleman's presence.

Instead, he moved to you gradually. Your breath hitching as he came inches away from you. He stood there a while, his eyes searching for some kind of indication that you knew at least an inkling of who he was.

It was hard for him to rapture around this situation. The most beautiful woman, whom he had spent many a night with, had lost all recollection of him.

"Say something, my dear. Let me hear my name upon those sweet lips once more."

His heart was yearning for you to talk to him and let his voice ring through the Hall like it did all those centuries ago. Yet he knew you were going to deny that pleasure from him.

"What is your name?"

His heartstrings broke. What was his name? If all the women in the entire world grovelled for his attention, he was forever devoted to fall at your feet, to spend every day for the rest of his life with, to have and to hold until death did he part - yet his reputation and simple label didn't hold any alikeness to anything you knew right now.

He edged closer, his eyes pleading into yours to remember. He cusped your tender jaw, causing you to look up at him like you did previously. His large hand lifted your small jawline and stroked your warm cheek, the familiar texture causing a sigh from his pale lips.

His touch tore your heart in two and made your knees feel weak. You knew this was wrong but his irresistible charm and persistence coaxed you infinitely closer.

His hand snaked around the small of your back and softly gripped your waist whilst his other dragged away from your warm cheek and down to your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. Your hand gently placed itself on his broad shoulder as you let out a shaky breath, all of your resistance gone in one swift movement.

No one had ever seen you in this state, let alone being this exposed in front of a beautiful stranger. You were so confident when you stepped out to find him but all the bravado had left without a trace within a matter of seconds. The most bewildering thing about this was that you didn't even know how this empathetic soul came to be or how he knew what to do and say to fan this hidden desire you had firing inside of you.

His eyes indulged in yours, asking permission to begin. You shakily nodded.

He adjusted his position and slowly lead you around his Hall, his face never leaving but rather studying yours, trying to decipher your thoughts and catch glimpse of enjoyment.

Whilst your eyes burrowed into his, selfishly savouring this night and his appetising features. No words could describe your new adoration for this man and none will ever suffice whatever thoughts were spinning inside of you.

The two of you relaxed as the gentleman spun you around more, your eyes and smile subtly gleamed with joyful bliss that he had ached to see again. Your laughs were music to his ears as he picked you up and spun you around, grinning with pride as you followed his lead.

Allerdale Hall, once neglected and barren for centuries was once again home to laughter and merriment. It smiled as more stars twinkled above two inhabitants, its light a hue for these perfect moments that would forever be held a secret by two dissonant souls.

The thoughts of your childhood dreams returned again. The drinks, chatter and light-hearted frivolity formed in your mind- but yet they didn't.

They were happening. People staring in wonder as the young couple dominated the dance hall with grace and perfection, a lit candle wrapped in between their enclosed hands. You wondered why it was there but you didn't care nonetheless. You were here with this magnificent gentleman, nay, God - whose only objective was to please you and only you. Your thoughts were conflicted as to whether or not your mind wanted to believe this was happening, as he was twirling you around this exquisite Ballroom, his magnetic eyes glued to the wonderous lady that fate had bestowed upon him.

The silent music hummed its last melancholic melody as the memory washed from your vision, leaving you feeling emptier than before.

"I've missed you, Edith."

Edith Cushing. The daughter of businessman Carter Cushing, aspiring novelist. The widowed wife of the Engish Baronet.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe."

"You may not resemble her on the outward appearance, yet you have the inner beauty she displayed oh so prominently. From the moment I caught my sights on your physique, my heart ached for your tender touch and to witness your passion for the world's curiosity again, and my dear, how could I deny my heart from having precious beauties within my grasp? Tonight alone has inspired me all over again to tend to all of your needs, whether they be impossible, I shall solemnly vow to you that I will make them a reality."

He pulled your waist impossibly closer to his tall frame as his soft hand caressed your chin, hooking your face upward to meet his.

"Did you truly believe that I would let you escape me forever my love? The lovers always reunite as they were meant to be joined together eternally. Their undying affection for one another, a beacon of hope and fidelity, being the only resolution they so desperately crave. Alas, Ulysses, Tristen, Romeo would never be enough for someone exquisite as you. For you unknowingly have torn apart my soul into a myriad of pieces and stitched it together agonisingly slow, all before repeating this cycle of delicious torment henceforth.

My dear, I have had the privilege to explore the seven wonders of this world but yet I am taken aback at the eighth that is you, which triumphs over them all... I understand that you may have no recall of our previous life together but my love, I shall do whatever it takes to fill your desires tenfold. Have no doubt upon that brilliant mind of yours, that I am forever indebted to you. For I have loved you, in the past, in the present and forever in the future that is stretched out in front of us and I shall wait for the day when you succumb to your inner desire and meet me naturally in this blissful relief that is the beyond."

His hand stroked your tear-stained cheek with a delicacy that held the innocence of a child. Your eyes brimming with pure euphoria as your eyes drank his ocean one's even further.

"Thomas I-" You breathed but you were stopped by Thomas closing the gap between you.

His lips were silk against your chapped ones as you melted into his embrace. His arm tightened around you possessively as your hands delved into his hair, tugging at his thick locks.

Thomas tilted his head and muffled words of gratitude as you continued to submerge yourselves with each other. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he deepened the kiss, begging for you to give in to him. Only you denied him access to his dislikening. He couldn't have all the fun after all.

He huffed in desperation but you soon submitted to him when his hand snuck into your hair, pursuing the same torture you had given him. You gasped as his soft tongue waltzed with yours, coaxing it to further break your resistance from him. He wasted no time in exploring your mouth as a symphony of heavy breaths were being emitted from the both of you.

The moment ceased as you both broke away, gasping for air. His charming smile wrapped your thoughts as the tase of him lingered on your swollen lips.

"What we're doing crazy Thomas. I mean, I'm practically making out with a ghost." You sighed, pressing a hand against his, somehow, solid chest.

"What you find crazy is my pleasure, darling." He gravelled, his voice sending shivers up your arms.

You felt your cheeks warming up as he placed his hand on either side of them, cupping your faces within them. He smiled to himself before placing another chaste kiss on your lips and led you further into the middle of the Hall.

"My Lady, may I have another dance?" He flamboyantly extended his arm out to you which drew a small chuckle from you.

"Why you may My Lord as you asked so politely." You replied back just as grandly.

Thomas swooped you into your embrace as the dance boldly commenced. Cold electricity sparked between the two of you as you allowed Thomas to dip you along the sinking floorboards, the world turning downside up and back again. The swarming butterflies came back as you were lifted into the air, again and again, all the while Thomas muttered intoxicating words of encouragement below you.

The Hall became accustomed to the louder sounds that radiated inside of it as squeals added to the mixture of laughter and comfortable conversation. Thomas Sharpe was the epitome of a gentleman and the fact that you had had him all to yourself back then was a dream you wanted to relive over and over again. His gentle gestures and confident dance moves drew your irresistible laugh from your lips as he watched you unravel the carefree girl you once were.

Thomas slowed you down as you gracefully came to a stop underneath the open ceiling.

"Please look at me, my Dear." Thomas lifted your chin closer to him, his frozen breaths brushing your nose and you casted your gaze onto him as his mesmerising eyes pierced into yours again, the tantalising feeling never getting old.

"Spill my name from your lips one more time." He spoke gently.

"Thomas" You whispered.

His eyes fluttered shut, many sensations running through him as he lulled you into a desperate and firm kiss. You relished at his touch as you pulled closer once again. Your hand cupped his jawline as you sighed, running your other down his chest.

"I love you."

"Who on Earth are you talking to, you sausage?"

Your eyes bolted open as you took a step back, daylight breaking through Allerdale Hall's ceiling.

They were right, who were you talking to?

You were rooted to the spot as your wide eyes became laced with unshed tears, possessing the confession that just escaped from you mere seconds ago.

Meanwhile, at the door, which now stood wide open, was the man who stole the magnificent connection you were still relishing from.

"Tom? Is that you?"

"Why of course it's me, Who else would it be?"

Now to answer that question honestly would make you look like an idiot to Tom, so instead, you didn't answer it at all, you just dazily looked at him.

Tom strode over to you, his duffle bag swung over his grubby black shirt. His hair was frazzled as his stubble looked like it could use a wash and still he carried the look with style.

Tom grabbed your arm and tugged towards to door. "Come on, we've got to keep moving. When I saw you left the car I was so worried they found you. Don't do that to me ever again, you hear? Are you even listening to me?"

No, you weren't. You blocked his concerns out of your ears, your mind not wanting to hear his persistent ranting. Your eyes were too busy soaking in Allerdale Hall for what could be the last time, not wanting to lose this sight ever in your life.

His voice ringed throughout the Hall like angels music on top of the gentle draft that licked up your arms.

For I have loved you, in the past, in the present and forever in the future that is stretched out in front of us.

You wrenched your eyes away and back to the moment at hand, helping Tom open the doors that exposed the cold field you blindly walked on before.

Tom stepped out into the Dawns fresh air as his eyes adjusted to the new lighting. His mind was already coming up and planning the way out of this place and back to the Royce, praying that it hadn't been discovered yet.

"Are you coming or not?" He asked, the panic settling in.

"You go on without me, I'll catch up. I forgot my torch." You replied absentmindedly.

"But you have it around your-"

Tom's statement was cut short because you soon peeped your head back through the double doors.

One last time. You thought as you breathed in a sigh.

Words didn't do your departure justice but a simple kiss that was blown into the silent manor did. It fluttered into the estate's embrace as you slipped out of the memory for what would be your last time.

With a subtle click, the doors were permanently sealed, forever standing guard for a moment that time encased inside of Allerdale Hall. Thomas brought his frail hand to his cold cheek as he allowed the last remaining piece of Ms Edith Sharpe to walk out of his eternity for good.

You smiled as you caught up to Tom - How could you price something that wasn't tangible?

The beautiful truth was, you couldn't. And that was why that night would forever be your biggest treasure.

#thomas sharpe #crismson peak #thomas sharpe angst #thomas sharp x reader #sir thomas sharpe #Loki #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki the god of mischief

[naminethewriter]

America’s Favourite Gameshow!!

Day 2 and I’m still on track! It’s way too late though and I hope I get done with the other prompts sometime before 12am 😴 Anyway, have fun with this silly little fluff story 💙💚🥰 @intrulogicalweek2021

Here on Ao3

Masterpost | Intrulogical Week 2021 Masterpost

Characters: Remus, Logan

Relationship: romantic Intrulogical

Rating: G

Words: 1,480

Summary:  Logan just wanted to make sure his boyfriend ate something. Remus wants entertainment more.

Logan walked along the halls of Remus’ castle in search of his boyfriend who had run off after breakfast to continue some project of his. Now, hours later, Logan wanted to ensure that he had eaten since then because while they didn’t require to eat, considering they were just figments of Thomas’ overactive subconscious, it had proven to be beneficial to their wellbeing as well as Thomas’. It had taken Logan almost a year of research to come to that conclusion but it had been well worth the effort.

 But both sides of Creativity were prone to forgetting the passage of time while working on one of their passion projects, hence Logan’s decision to check on Remus this afternoon. He had already looked through most of the grounds and was now on his way up into a tower. It was pretty much separated from the rest of the castle and nobody but Logan and the Duke himself had access and Remus spend a lot of time up there doing whatever he wants without disturbance. The only reason that Logan had put off checking there first is because he disliked the long, long staircase leading up. About three fourth of the way up, Logan could hear cluttering sounds, so it seemed reasonable to assume his search would soon be over.

After another five minutes of climbing he finally reached the top, only one door separating him from whatever mess Remus has caused this time. Logan took a few deep breaths before pushing it open.

 Pure Chaos laid before him. He couldn’t even begin to describe it. Furniture overturned and broken. Paint or something colourful had gotten everywhere. Glass shards, papers, confetti, everything scattered randomly around the room and Remus in the middle of it.

 Logan didn’t even attempt going any further in. Instead he called out to his boyfriend who turned to face so fast, his head rotated more than it should with a sickening crack.

 “Lolo!” he grinned, pulling his head back into the right position before climbing over the rubble to the door. As soon as he got into touching distance he wrapped himself around Logan in a tight hug. His boyfriend just patted his arm until he let go. “What brings you here, starshine? You horny?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

 “No Remus, I am not horny. I simply came to check on you since I haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

 “Ah shit, is it already evening? Damn time flies when you’re busy, huh.”

 “What were you doing in the first place? This entire room is a mess.” Logan immediately regretted asking when he saw the smile spreading across his boyfriend’s face. “No, Remus, please-“

 Too late.

 Remus snapped and suddenly there was a spotlight on the two of them, two more swinging across the room that was now notably darker. Some kind of jingle started playing and an invisible audience started applauding. Remus, now in a suit, brought a microphone to his mouth.

 “Ladies and Gentlemen! You have waited patiently and now it is finally time to play America’s favourite gameshow! It’s” – the fake audience yelled along the next words –

 “Art or Science!”

 “The rules are simple,” Remus continued alone. “Our returning champion, Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders, has five minutes to survey the room and then he has to decide: did I cause this chaos in the name of Art or Science! He is allowed to ask me three things to specify, not one hint more. Our contestant has a success rate of 66% so far and I’m sure we are all curious to see the result of our fourth episode of-!” Remus held the mic away from him and again the imaginary audience shouted:

 “Art or Science!”

 “Now, Logan. Are you ready to start?” Remus held out the mic to Logan this time who groaned and levelled him with an unimpressed glare.

 “Is this really necessary, Cephy?” Remus laughed and threw his arms open.

 “Of course not, but it’s fun so we’re doing it!” Logan massaged his temple. Ever since Thomas had taken to binge watching SNL sketches on YouTube, Remus had been practically enthralled with their game show parodies. Especially if Bill Hader (Remus’ favourite cast member) played the host. His top spot shifted between ‘What’s that Name?’ and ‘Who’s on Top’ every five minutes and Logan couldn’t deny that the chaos of those concepts fit Remus very well, so it should be no surprise that he thought of his own little show. It just annoyed Logan that he was the only contestant ever having to deal with it.

 Well, at least it was short. He could play along for five minutes.

 “Fine, start the clock.” Remus cheered, as did the audience, and the light returned to how it was before, with the entire room evenly lit.

 “As always, please don’t hesitate to give us play-by-play commentary on your thought process, Sherlock,” Remus giggled and Logan nodded absentmindedly, already scanning the room for clues. He took the first minute to simply think and his boyfriend let him but Logan knew he would grow impatient eventually.

 “Clearly there is both art supplies as well as lab equipment present and I have witnessed you using both for the others intended purpose, so that does not provide any essential hints. The furniture is mostly broken and out of place. Especially that table that seems to be hanging out the window and only hangs on with one leg anchored inside. The glass was most likely smashed by said table. This could point to a possible explosion that resulted after a failed experiment, favouring science as its cause. Though again, I have seen you set off an explosion to create an art piece of yours so it is not concrete proof either.” Remus nodded along to his descriptions and a spotlight also shone on the areas he talked about.

 “Now for my first question, I would like you to confirm whether the dark red substance in that corner is blood or not.”

 “It’s not, though I tried my best to get it to smell the same.” Logan nodded, again falling silent for a moment to think. The quiet was broken by a croak and something moved though it was hidden enough that Logan couldn’t quite make it out.

 “You used live specimen. Not unheard off for your art but more common with experiments. Especially frogs.”

 “Toads, not frogs actually.”

 “I can tell apart a frog croaking and toad doing the same, Remus. That sound was a frog.”

 “Nah, you see, I like how toads look better but frogs sound more appealing, so I made a toad that croaked like a frog.”

 “Fascinating. Could you show it to me later?”

 “Sure! Also that counts as your second questions.” Logan glared at his boyfriend for a moment but relented.

 “Fine.” He continued to point out other details about the room and whether they pointed towards art or science and soon Remus announced that he had only 30 seconds left. Logan contemplated in his head and came to a decision at the same moment Remus called:

 “Time! Five minutes are up, Ladies and Gentlemen! Now Logan, give us your answer, please!” The room had darkened once again, with a spotlight on Logan and Remus and two others moving around the room.

 “I say it’s art.”

 “Is that your final answer?”

 “Yes, Remus, please do not drag this out any longer.”

 “Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand around before getting back into character. “His answer is locked in! Now let’s see if he’s right. Is it art?” A drumroll played and then a bang. Even more confetti poured out of the ceiling, along with balloons, the normal, oval ones and those long ones with two of the former tied to one of the latter (I’m sure you can guess what that symbolises, we’re talking about Remus here after all).

 “Coooooooorrrreeeeccccctttt!” Applause roared and Remus threw an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him close. “Another win for our returning champion! With this his success rate is now at 75%! How are you feeling, are you proud?” He held out the mic to Logan, who rolled his eyes.

 “I am alright, now please wrap this up.” Remus giggled but complied.

 “That was it for this episode of-“

 “Art or Science!”

 “See you next time, folks!” And with another snap, things returned to normal, the lights, the sounds and Remus’ outfit. “Wasn’t that fun, starlight?”

 “It was fine, Remus.”

 “You just don’t like admitting it~”

 “No matter, that is not what I came up here for anyway.”

 “Oh yeah, why did you come here?”

 “To ask if you have eaten since breakfast.”

 “Oh, rotten shit, I forgot.”

 “I thought as much. Come on, I secured you some leftovers from lunch and the rest of the hot sauce.”

 “You are the best, moonlight.”

#namiswriting #my writing #intrulogicalweek2021 #day 2: art/science #intrulogical #ts logan #logan sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #fluff #gameshow #remus is the king of chaos #logan is a bit done #just a bit though #he can't deny his boyfriend some fun #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #reblogs and kudos are appreciated!

[commander-hanji-zoe]

Hi~ can I request Mike and Nanaba with s/o who is stressing with college life like hw or study please? 🥺🥺🥺

Hey - of course! I imagine they'd both be very supportive and caring. In many respects I think their reactions would be very similar, so you may notice some repetition. Mostly I think they'd want you to remember your studies do not define you as a person and anything you're struggling with is not a failure and is nothing to be embarrassed of. They'd want to make sure you had plenty of water, snacks and took plenty of breaks (especially with fresh air as that's very important!) Breathing exercises, meditation, allowing you to vent to them without interruption. Tears with no shame. Lots of hugs and rewards at the end of difficult sessions. I hope you like the below and that it helps. ♡

Mike

Mike knows exactly when to leave you alone to your studying, when to leave you alone but occasionally bring snacks/drinks and when he needs to intervene and remind you to take a break. He’s someone who is very in-tune with those around him, especially those he is close to so he’s a good judge of when you’re pushing yourself too far and will step in to tell you.

At the beginning of your studies he’ll ensure to set up an area either in the space/room you share or in his room where you can study in peace. There might even be a little DIY involved. They’ll be a plant or two, plenty of stationary and paper, a stress toy and some lovely scented candles.

With his keen nose he’ll pick out candles that not only smell gorgeous but help to aid in concentration.

He’ll ensure you have a constant supply of water, occasionally bringing you tea, orange juice or whatever your favourite drink is. He’ll also bring snacks known for their ‘brain power’ like nuts and berries, but he also likes to treat you so he’ll bring cookies too.

If you need help setting up a study schedule he’s the perfect partner to assist with this and will create a

If you need someone to test your knowledge Mike will really get into the teacher role, which will likely make you giggle but it’s also a little bit hot. He’s incredibly patient with you and if you’re really struggling/there’s any gaps in your knowledge, he’ll design little note cards with the information on (and adds a little heart).

If you’re feeling super stressed with studying he’ll remove you from the situation, even if you’re panicking about time and feel you cannot leave the desk, he’ll remind you that if you’re running at 1% you’re not going to be studying effectively or retaining information. It’s better to take a break (away from the desk and the room) for half hour or possibly even the rest of the day if you’ve been studying for hours, than to burn out completely.

Mike makes sure that you get plenty of fresh air so if you have a break from studying you’re not just sat in the same place. Instead he’ll encourage you to go for a walk, he’ll come with you if you want but also understands personal space is important.

He’s very good at shoulder/back/head/neck massages (let’s be honest he’s great at massaging any part of the body). If you’re feeling tense/stressed but want to study a bit more, he’s happy to stand behind you and gently give you a massage to help release some of that tension.

There’s rewards whenever you finish studying, whether it’s a nice meal he’s prepared, a romantic evening, drinks with friends, a cake Mike has baked, a hot, romantic bath etc. Mike makes sure that your place is clean and tidy and dinner is sorted so it’s one less thing for you to worry about and you can focus your energy on studying.

He’s overall very supportive and will tell you how proud of you he is everyday. If you need a quick pick me up and you’re struggling to believe in yourself, he’ll get you to do some affirmations with him or help you write some that remain private.

Any tears when you’re studying and Mike will be there with tissues and plenty of hugs. He has a way of making you feel completely safe and secure when he wraps his arms around you. He’s happy to hold you as long as is needed.

Will remind you that you’re doing the best you can and that he thinks you’re amazing. Will also remind you that no one is perfect and that as long as you’re doing your best that’s all anyone (yourself included) can ask for.

At the end of every study session if he’s there or when he gets home he’ll press a kiss to your forehead in the same place every day. “Proud of you love.”

Any breakdowns you have or moments of extreme stress where you feel you can’t go on, Mike is there to hold your hands and let you vent. He helps you to take deep breaths and focus on a happy memory. He’ll remind you that your worth is not determined by how your studies go or your results in an exam. This does not define you and if you don’t get it this time you can try again and that is absolutely okay.

Nanaba

Having Nanaba around when you’re stressing about college is incredibly helpful, she’s a ray of sunshine who reminds you to take frequent breaks and ensures you’re looking after yourself as well as studying.

She curates the perfect study space for you that’s full of light and near a window so there’s plenty of air.

Makes sure you start the day with a healthy and brain-power inspired breakfast, she’ll say with

Kisses to the cheek and reassuring squeeze of your shoulders to let you know that she’s there for you if you need her. But Nananba is never over-bearing and certainly never treats you like a child. She appreciates that sometimes especially when you are stressed that you will need your space.

Like Mike she’ll ensure you’ve got plenty of water throughout your studies and if she’s home/around she’ll occasionally bring you snacks and ensure you take a decent break for lunch.

If the sight of paperwork and books is stressing you out and the words seem to blur into one, Nanaba will suggest going out for lunch - to sit on the grass with a picnic or buy lunch out. Something that is completely detached from the work you are doing.

Occasionally when you’re studying you’ll hear Nanaba singing or humming, half the time she doesn’t even know she’s doing it but it’s comforting and reassuring. When you point it out to her she’ll go a little red and feel bad for disturbing your study. But you explain, it actually helps you to focus, so Nanaba will sing a little every day while you’re studying. It’ll be in a different room so it’s quiet but somehow that makes you feel safe.

At the end your study sessions when Nanaba sees you she likes to know how it went, what went well and what didn’t go so well. She thinks it’s important you talk openly about it and encourages you to express any doubt rather than bottling it up. Together you come up with a plan to tackle the areas that are stressing you out the most.

If you start to cry or feel incredibly frustrated and stressed, Nanaba will guide you away from your work space to the window so you can listen to the birds, breeze, chatter of children etc. She’ll help to ground you and do some breathing exercises with you to calm your heart rate and make you feel more like you again.

She cooks the most amazing meals for you so you have a hearty dinner in the evening once you’ve finished working.

Nanaba will mostly leave you to study alone as she doesn’t want to disturb you, but she will pop her head round the corner every now and then to check you’re doing okay and see if you need anything.

Reminds you that even if you don’t do as well in the exam as you’d like, it isn’t the end - you can always try again and there’s absolutely no shame in that.

If you have difficulty sleeping due to worrying about your studies she’ll spoon you and stroke your hair, whispering soft affirmations and reassurances. She reminds you of how far you’ve come and how proud of you she is. Then she’ll paint a pretty picture with words, describing a dream day out with her so you fall asleep with this imagery instead of a busy mind.

#Mike Zacharias #mike zakarius #miche zacharias #Mike Zacharias x reader #Nanaba #Nanaba x reader #cw: stress #studying #aot x reader #aot headcanons #requests #my writing

[hes-writer]

To You (4)

Summary: harry dates y/n to get closer to her best friend

Warnings: mild angst (what else lol), not a lot of dialogue for this one, and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 2775 words

A/N: I've had the worst writer's block for this series but then inspiration struck me at 2 am and I had the chance to write a lil sumthin sumthin for the next part :D

Read the full series in my masterlist (bio)

As I mentioned before, this story kind of goes backwards.

____

As self-deprecating as it is, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her guard lower with each fleeting glance at her phone. She didn’t mean to, really. It wasn’t as if she was bored out of her mind because she was the opposite of that. 

Going on her phone and tapping on Instagram was more of a distraction from studying if anything. She was hounded by piles of homework and pages of readings to do by the end of next week. It seemed that her brain was working in constant overdrive to try to remember the endless concepts and theories that were catapulted at her with no signs of stopping. Her eyes were straining from the constant stimulation from her laptop screen, and from trying to read the small letters plastered on the computer. 

Y/N was studying on her designated studying days, as usual. She was quite proud of sticking to the schedule, except for the few weeks that she opted to coddle herself in the confines of her warm blanket because that was around the time that she found out her boyfriend, Harry, was only using her to get close to her best friend, Louise. 

——

In retrospect, Y/N should have seen all the signs blaring right in front of her face all along. She gave herself facepalms more than she could count by the way she was—quite literally—blinded by love to realize that Harry’s feelings were nothing but a façade. That Y/N was nothing but a pawn in his game; a character to manipulate, disposable in order for him to get the woman he actually wanted. And Y/N had no doubts that her ex-boyfriend was treating Louise like a queen. 

Y/N wore red-tinted glasses while she was with Harry and she didn’t see the red flags rising every time he shaped their evening around Louise’s schedule. She thought that Harry was making such a good effort in getting to know the people close to Y/N’s life that he insisted on having Louise around whenever they hung out with her friends. 

Harry asked endless questions about Louise; from where she worked to what she was interested in—to which Y/N had foolishly answered, believing that she had found the perfect man to share her life with. But she should have known when he didn’t do the same for her other friends. Hell, he didn’t even do the same to her!

___

When Harry and Y/N were just friends, he didn’t bother getting to know her as thoroughly and comprehensively as he did with Louise. In fact, it could be argued that Harry hated Y/N when they were first introduced by—and this was ironic—Louise! 

Louise spoked highly and excitedly of ‘my friend, Y/N’ and with Harry being the loved-up simp that he was—wanted to please Louise by appearing interested in her friend. He guessed that he was probably too good of an actor (not to toot his own horn) because that meet up turned into a set-up. 

Louise had planned a date for her friends, Y/N was indifferent to it; she was even a little excited because she thought that Harry was sort of nice. Despite the fact that he was indirectly rude to her in their first meeting, Y/N didn’t hold grudges on people for their first impressions. She believed that anybody could have a bad day and that might just be the time when Harry was dragged by the arm to be introduced to her. 

Y/N understood if that was the case. She was not too keen on acting nice and friendly after a stressful day at work, or a hard study session at the library. So even if Harry was practically snarling at every word she said from his seat around the rounded booth table of the bar—she agreed to go on a first date with him. 

——

Harry was in shambles.

He got himself into quite an intricate mess trying to attain the woman of his dreams. He was such a pleaser that he was now contemplating inside his car, outside of Y/N’s address. Was this all worth it? Of course, it was. As much as Harry would like to say that this was part of his plan to make Louise his girlfriend, it really wasn’t. 

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t use it to his advantage. 

It was a good thing that he was early—about twenty minutes or so. That was only because he was huffing the whole time Harry was buttoning the clutches of his dress shirt, shaking his head at the bathroom mirror and reprimanding himself for letting his lovesickness to get him deeper than he would like. But hey, the sooner Harry got to Y/N’s place, the sooner this ‘date’ would be over. 

So here he was, hidden in the shadows of the night sky and shielded by the heavy tint of his Range Rover. Palms were pressed on the lush leather steering wheel as Harry formulated how he could turn this around in his favour. He was already in Louise’s good books for even agreeing to this in the first place—why not make Y/N his own personal wingman?

Granted, that she didn’t actually know Harry well enough but maybe this date could reach Louise’s ears about how much of a romantic, perfect, and chivalrous gentleman Harry could be. That would surely make Louise like him, right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

It was safe to say that Harry was feeling guilty the moment he decided to use Y/N in order to get to her best friend, but that ship sailed long ago when anger and frustration took over. Why in the hell was he so perfect to Y/N’s eyes that she had gushed about him to her best friend minutes after he had dropped her off?

Why did Harry have to knock on her door with a single-stemmed rose clutched in his fingers, doing a little bow to add humour when she opened the door? And what in God’s name possessed him to say that she looked beautiful that night in her pretty, deep green dress that he thought was absolutely gorgeous on her—but his heart was with another woman—fully knowing that it would look better on Louise?

“Why. . . just why,” Harry asked himself as he sat at a table with Y/N, Louise and her boyfriend, Dylan. 

That was what being romantic got him. That was where declaring Y/N as his unofficial wingman ended him upon. A double date with the woman he wanted with Y/N looking at him as if they’ve been together for years, when in fact, they had only known each other for a few weeks. 

Harry’s pride was too big to admit that this time; he couldn’t get the girl. And so, his bruised ego declared that this date was just another unplanned situation that would benefit him—somehow, someway—in the future. 

Wrong again. 

Because a month later,  Y/N was running off to her lecture with a bag strapped over her shoulder, leaving Harry a passionate kiss on the lips. He was quite ashamed to say that he enjoyed the affection, but not enough to ignore the throbbing of his heart

Harry wasn’t all in with his relationship with Y/N and he knew exactly why. For months, he had been pining for Louise and well, he ended up with her best friend, Y/N. Now that was just super unlucky for him. And he wasn’t usually a mean person, but Harry was very annoyed with fate (or destiny) for leaving with an ultimatum. 

First, leaving Y/N risking her tattling to Louise about him breaking her heart was a no-no. Second, staying with Y/N until she realizes that both of them were no good together. The latter was a much more pleasant choice, except the fact that it could take months for Y/N to acknowledge that she and Harry were both too different for each other. 

—— 

It was another four months later when Harry drew upon an epiphany very similar yet completely different from the ultimatum he had presided. 

Y/N was sure of her feelings more than ever, even dropping the ‘L’ word during a drunken stupor of wine and bubbly champagne. Harry was sure that she hadn’t remembered her confession the next morning because she never brought it up. However, those words that escaped her lips were enough for Harry to overthink each night one or the other slept over. 

Sometimes Y/N’s snores would serve as background noise to his serene imagination, wondering why the images of Louise and him doing couple-y stuff were now replaced with Y/N’s figure instead. 

He also pondered if his memory was so impeccable that he could hear Y/N’s laugh fluttering in his ears while she was sound asleep beside him or was it just because she released a chuckle every time he made a horrible joke?

(It was true. Y/N never left Harry hanging in the air with a questionable punchline of a head-scratching joke. Both of them knew that her giggles were pity laughs. Harry was thankful for it and Y/N just couldn’t resist painting a genuine smile on Harry’s face, looking so proud that he had made her laugh.) 

Harry was certain that his feelings for Y/N wouldn’t quite reach the threshold that he held her for now. But it seemed that he was getting a lot of his sworn predictions wrong lately. Sure, their first encounter (and the second, and the third. . .) were purely for satisfaction’s sake. A mere plot for Harry to build his boyfriend resumé for Louise. 

Harry wasn’t sure when his feelings shifted from civil and friendly to an ever-evoking, lovesick puppy. 

Maybe it was the way Y/N walked, straight into his heart and stole it, keeping it safe in her tender hands when she pressed a lingering kiss on his lip while she ran off to catch the bus. The way Harry would pout when Y/N forgot the routine she had set, resulting in him whining her name and sometimes chasing after her to get his much-needed kiss. He even started calling it his ‘good-luck charm’ because it seemed like without it; Harry came home more drained and tired than usual because nothing went right that day. 

Or maybe it was the way she giggled while reading something on her phone, laptop, or a book—even if it was for school purposes. How absolutely pleased he was to hear her melody of giggles, straining his ear to listen more closely and wanting to do nothing more than to hear it again because it was music to Harry. It usually ends with Y/N’s heaving breaths, begging him to stop tickling her. 

Was it because she was the most adorable little thing while she was asleep? No, it couldn’t be, Harry thought, even though the admiration in his eyes cannot be described as anything other than glazed over with love and affection with the way he stared at Y/N’s sleeping face. 

But why can’t he stop thinking about her when she wasn’t around? Harry felt like he was missing a part of himself as soon as he shut the door to his house because Y/N had to go to her own place. 

Why did a smile splinter his lips visualizing Y/N studying at her kitchen table with a topknot wobbling on her head and a pair of her thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose? Harry still remembers the first time she asked him to redo the bun on her head, complaining that it was loosening and that she couldn’t focus when strands were haywire. 

Harry made sure to be extra careful as to not accidentally pull on her scalp, stretching the hairband around his fingers. 

Now, he only had a minute experience in hair styling, reminiscing to his long-haired days were he slipped his hair into a neat ball in a few seconds or less. But this was Y/N, his girlfriend, who had an adorable pout on her face. The finch between her brows deepening when she tried to understand the concepts written on the screen yet she would giggle when Harry would ask her, ‘Am I hurting you?’ and shake her head ‘no’. 

——-

So it was a bit questionable when Harry jumped at the chance to kiss Louise when the time came. 

She had just broken up with her boyfriend and called Y/N for comfort. However, Y/N was about to leave for an exam worth half of her grade and she couldn’t just not attend it. She may love her best friend with all of her heart, but not enough to waste thousands of dollars to redo a course because she missed the final exam. 

Hence, why Harry was sent in place of Y/N instead. And that was also how his plump lips managed to lock itself with Louise’s’ glossy ones. He should’ve felt guilt stab him right away when he tasted wet, salty tears on his tongue when he battled for dominance with Louise. 

Harry should have pulled away when his phone buzzed in his pocket; a message from girlfriend that she had just finished her exam and was ready to be picked up now so that she could give love and comfort to her best friend. 

Harry’s subconscious must have reminded him that this was the woman whom he had spent months pining on; desperately trying to make her his yet failing. And now that he had the chance to, he couldn’t stop. 

Instead of doing everything his conscience had practically yelled at him to do, Harry’s brain had buffered—his body numbed every nerve except the ones controlling his mouth because their persisting kiss was captured by a photographer hidden amongst barricades that Harry had failed to take notice of. 

Harry was sure that his presence was hidden to the best of his abilities, but he guessed that Louise’s hands had pulled his hoodie off in the midst of their make-out session, revealing his side profile and the unruly curls on his head. 

And that was how Y/N identified the image on her phone the time she felt her heart being ripped out and crushed into pieces. That, and the fact that Harry wore the same clothes she had seen him in before she left. 

____ 

And now, as Y/N paused her thumb from scrolling away from the image on her screen, the same pain and heartbreak still throbbed in her chest. 

She couldn’t seem to forget, as a lot of people say, what Harry did to her. Despite the fact that he was spotted outside her door, leaving boxed gifts of chocolate and flower bouquets a few minutes ago—Y/N simply didn’t have the capacity to sweep everything under the rug. 

The wound was still fresh—feeling air was enough to have her hissing, aiming to cover the cut in fear that it would become too painful to even ignore. For weeks, Y/N had to wallow in agonizing self-pity to remind herself that Harry didn’t deserve her or her love for him and now she was somehow ready to run back into his arms? 

She absolutely despised the way her hands twitched to send him a text. To leave him a voicemail or to simply tap his contact just to hear him speak to her again. Y/N was ashamed to admit that he thought about knocking on his front door just for another chance at seeing him again. An opportunity to ask him if he was happier with her (ex) best-friend—if Harry loved Louise more than he did with her. Or—and most of all—if Harry ever did love Y/N during their short relationship. Was everything just a game to him? 

She was doing good so far; she was strong enough to withhold from the urges of communicating with an ex. However, Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before Harry took extreme measures to speak to her, unlocking her door with the spare key she had given him. One day she would be met with his figure in the hallway with a sad smile on his face and three long-stemmed sunflowers in his hand and Y/N wouldn’t be able to resist him. 

Y/N hated herself for being so weak whenever Harry was involved. He was her Kryptonite; getting too close to him was what ripped her to shreds. 

___

Let me know what you thought!

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