GREAT FIC - Blog Posts

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV), The Dead Boy Detectives (DC Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Additional Tags: POV Charles Rowland (DCU), Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Charles Rowland Has ADHD (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Loves Charles Rowland, Charles Rowland Loves Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Comfort Summary:

Charles focus drifts but Edwin’s there to ground him.

This is so cute

I see you (Din Djarin x GN reader)

Summary: Din is hurting, don’t look at him. No REALLY, DON’T LOOK AT HIM.

Genre: Angst / fluff + hurt / comfort.

Author’s note: This takes place after the events of Chapter 15, therefore SPOILERS if you keep reading!

Of course, I don’t know what will ACTUALLY happens in the rest of the series, but in this version, Din + Reader + Grogu are safe on a spaceship after Those Events Happened in Ch14, and after THAT happened on Moskar in Ch15 (reader was present on Moskar). Din is dealing with some trauma following That Event.

I wrote this in one go in a tired yet enthusiastic frenzy after watching. I didn’t want to spend ages on it… but I hope that it’s coherent and that you like it!

Warnings: nightmares, angst but it turns out okay. Final warning: spoilers for S2 esp. chapter 14 and 15. Meant to be GN but not sure if the Mando’a confuses that. Pls forgive.

GIF: a non-chapter-specific adorable GIF so that I’m not spewing spoilers onto my dash. By @calsblueponcho​

You hear him stir again. For the third night in a row.

You hear his groans start to build from within the cot opposite you - the sound wrung from his chest and strangled in his throat. You hear him thrashing, limbs and elbows and whatever part of him clunking against the walls of the narrow sleep space, the sounds tinny from within his metal box; like usual.

Metal between you and him.

Finally, you hear the shush of the door as he clambers out of bed, and you hear ragged breaths sawing in and out of him. You hear the weight of his blankets pool on to the floor as he throws them off with a grunt, and his bare feet making contact with the metal floor.

Now, his sounds are not tinny. They are organic. There are no layers of metal between you any longer. Now, only the darkness separates you from him. Only the darkness separates him from the knowledge you hold; that he is afraid.

You hold still. You stay quiet, as Din completes his now nightly ritual - as if the man needed any more rituals. Your heart breaks for him.

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The Never-Ending Roadtrip (waffles)

summary: (part 1) or (part 5) <- reader joins douxie on his quest to protect nari. he’ll need company wont he. (part 6) do you like waffles? also appalachia and nj trollmarket fun.

warnings: swearing, fem! reader, maybe an alcohol mention, proof reading is for squares yo

word count: 3875

a/n: i’m sorry to anyone from PA but wtf. i also have no idea why this turned out the way it did. bon apetit.

no gif im trying to test something

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n looked over at Douxie. The blue of his hair was starting to fade into a duller hue. While not as bright and bold as his personality, it was still very nice to look at. This muted blue was softer, almost comforting in a way. Y/n found herself running her fingers through it. It wasn’t just the color that was soft. Like feathers in her hand, she gently caressed the strands. The duller color made him look tired, older, and the permanent bags under his eyes didn’t help. She placed her hand on his face and ran her thumb over a said eye bag. He gave her a very subdued smile in return. His sunken eyes were so beautiful. Her favorite color. Or colors, one should say. They were like an earth toned opal. Y/n’s hand drifted down his face. She used her thumb to explore his cheekbones, tracing constellations in his freckles, and finally settled on his mouth, tracing his cupid’s bow. Douxie couldn’t help but break the stoic face he was trying to hold.

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Another amazing chapter!!!!!

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (there’s nothing wrong with Ohio)

Summary: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - (Part 5) ohio hijinks. national forests, a b ‘n b.     start here -> (part 1)

Warnings: swearing, meat eating, idk gambling kinda?

Word Count: 6620

A/N: AAAAAHHH i gotta stop writing shit at 3am. it’s showing. also i cant believe i reworked their entire planned trip route for this. ajhqhdsjhfljh i have no excuses for any of this

Douxie was uncharacteristically quiet during the trip through the first bit of Indiana. Y/n hung over the railing feeling awkward. The treetops below flew past her in a blur. Y/n kinda felt bad, like maybe she had broken him. Did she nudge a little too hard? She had thought, if anything, her flirting would get him flirting too. Hell, Doux flirted with everyone. It was just part of his charismatic persona he’d built over the years. And he had been so strange this week, but especially strange during the time they’d spent on the road. Every time Y/n had thought she’d figured something out with him, he’d surprise her.

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Loose Ends

Zuko x Reader Modern!SMAU

Prev / Part 17 / Next

When Y/N came back to Ba Sing Se after being away for a year, she realized that there were a lot of loose ends she needed to tie up. Her friends, her studies and most importantly, her ex-boyfriend.

Taglist (still open) If I missed anybody then please send me a message in my inbox because I can’t guarantee that I will see your comments:

@thefandomimagines

@theblueslytherin

@theworldisamess

@speakyourselfloveyourself

@20coldhearts

@firedancer016

@punicorn999

@aseriousfckingmess

@emogril

@feels-like-loneliness

@revemixer

@calumsfringe

@stars-trash-18

@calumsfringe

@sara5208

@bison-whistle

@blonddnamedhandz

@grapesauze

@thirstyforsometea

@fanficflaneuse

@khaleesi-of-assassins

@buckywiththagoodhair

@gokm1023

@justhavefunwithit

@thesstuff

@earth-architect

@musicconversedance

@korina-dujmovic

@darthsokaaa

@blondie0458

@secretsandwriting

@williebyers

@tiffy119

@iamthecabbage

@marvel-ing-at-it-all

@just-my-weirdness-and-i

@alyssagracepotter

@harmlessoffering

@charlenasaxen

@generousmentalitybluebird

@strawberiicreme

@nnon-it-up

@fiantomartell

@dailytrashypanda

@simonsbluee 

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (St. Louis)

summary: (pt 1) Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - part 4) Doux and Reader get out of Missouri finally but not before one last stop

warnings: swearing

word count: 6205

a/n: im getting a smidge impatient on my planned mutual pining slow burn as you can see. mmm i want a piece of st louis butter cake. @blixeon​ gets credit for putting the douxie trying to keep y/n away from moppet!douxie idea in my head. its not a big plot point here but idk felt i should still mention it

Douxie stared up at the ceiling with dry, unblinking eyes. There were many interesting cracks in the ceiling, barely illuminated by the light streaming in from the bathroom door. He was wide awake, despite not being able to convince himself to move. He was never a morning person, but once he remembered where he was, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on him. Y/n was no longer clinging to him when he woke up, albeit, she was not even in the bed at all when he woke up. That had gave him a fright before he realized he could hear the shower running. Somehow, this was worse than if she’d still been there when he woke up. This meant she woke, untangled herself from him, and was probably going to pretend like it didn’t happen, since she couldn’t possibly know he stayed awake long enough to know about it. Which, while waking up in her arms would have been a little awkward, at least he would have gotten a conversation out of it. An acknowledgement. Something.

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Turkey Day

summary: reader gets out of thanksgiving

warnings: none

word count: 452

a/n: heres a tiny fix-it fic for my fucking life. written while hiding from family members, bon appetit

Douxie was re-shelving some books that a customer brought downstairs and then didn’t buy. He could hear you pick up the phone and start a conversation down at the counter.

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Another Great Chapter!

Loose Ends

Zuko x Reader Modern!SMAU

Prev / Part 15 / Next

When Y/N came back to Ba Sing Se after being away for a year, she realized that there were a lot of loose ends she needed to tie up. Her friends, her studies and most importantly, her ex-boyfriend.

Taglist (still open) If I missed anybody then please send me a message in my inbox because I can’t guarantee that I will see your comments:

@thefandomimagines

@theblueslytherin

@theworldisamess

@speakyourselfloveyourself

@20coldhearts

@firedancer016

@punicorn999

@aseriousfckingmess

@emogril

@feels-like-loneliness

@revemixer

@calumsfringe

@stars-trash-18

@calumsfringe

@sara5208

@bison-whistle

@blonddnamedhandz

@grapesauze

@thirstyforsometea

@fanficflaneuse

@khaleesi-of-assassins

@buckywiththagoodhair

@gokm1023

@justhavefunwithit

@thesstuff

@earth-architect

@musicconversedance

@korina-dujmovic

@darthsokaaa

@blondie0458

@secretsandwriting

@williebyers

@tiffy119

@iamthecabbage

@marvel-ing-at-it-all

@just-my-weirdness-and-i

@alyssagracepotter

@harmlessoffering

@charlenasaxen

@generousmentalitybluebird

@strawberiicreme

@nnon-it-up

@fiantomartell

@dailytrashypanda

@maccabee-boy-em

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt9

hello and welcome back! thank you for ur patience! this is another over 5000 words one, so pls enjoy! feedback and sharing is loved and appreciated but not necessary!!

pt1

pt8

pt10

“Have you talked to him at all since…?” Asami asked.

“Since I completely embarrassed myself at dinner the other night? No, I haven’t.” She situated herself in bed and turned over to look at her friends. “Do you think I should? I mean, it is odd that he just kissed me out of nowhere, right?”

“Mako’s not one to hold back when it comes to his feelings,” Korra said, and she and Asami exchanged a knowing smile.

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beneath the moon. (sokka x reader) pt15

OH WOW okay so because i felt so bad about not updating this for…two weeks? this chapter is extra long. i’m talkin over 5,000 words long. it is also my apology for not updating in so long teehee!!! 

pt1

pt14

pt16

“Friends get excited to see each other,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t know about you, Aang, but my friends don’t normally kiss me on the cheek when they see me.” Aang laughed as he steered Appa, but Sokka’s expression was less than exuberant. (Y/N) knocked her shoulder against his. “I’m just teasing,” She said lowly, so only Sokka would hear. “I think you guys-“

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Another beautiful chapter

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (3)

Summary: Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he?  part 3- campfire songspell

Warnings: swearing, whole fish-eating, mention of blood, i’ve stopped proofreading shit

Word Count: 3678

a/n: don’t worry there’s no more haunted stuff after this. or missouri. Y/n doesn’t smoke she just feels the need to have a way to set fire to things on her person at all times. a pyromaniac, if you will. also they have been roommates this entire time i just forgot to mention it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Archie was not happy. He couldn’t believe that Douxie would just ditch him like this. It wasn’t like him. Watch the boat, Archie. We’ll be right back, Archie. That was seven hours ago. A rainstorm had come and gone even. He thought for sure that at least Y/n or Nari would have reminded the other two about his situation. But, no, here he was, soaked to the bone and still alone. In Missouri. In misery. As mad as he was though, he was equal parts worried. It wasn’t like Douxie to just forget about him. Something was wrong.

When he finally caught sight of the rest of the party returning to the ship, Arch breathed a sigh of relief. And then got ready to breath fire. Which he quickly put out, after seeing the looks on the kids’ faces once they got close enough. So something was wrong. They looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

“Are you three alright? What happened?”

“Nothing we didn’t survive. Look, we got the tent.” Douxie held up the box to show Archie. He just flicked his tail in response. “It’s already dark, so we’ll tell you all about it while we set up camp. Alright, Arch?”

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Yay!!!👏👏this is so good!!! 

"should I just assume you’re trying to give your past self head trauma?" Is a great line!! I love!

Almost A Thousand Years - Battle Royal | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  2,975

Warnings: (Y/N) is traumatized, but you knew that already

A/N:  IT’S B A C K, SHE’S HOME

Taglist:   @furblrwurblr​ @rainningdoom​ @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458​ @sitherin-mxschief​ @jinxedleo @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip​ @dolphincommander​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05 @justarandomhoman​

You were very pleased to finally get a nap.  

It took a few minutes of answering questions, and by the end of it you’d basically told Claire and Steve every secret you’d ever had, but it was worth it.  You’d answer all of their questions and a million more if it meant you got to take another nap in the corner of Douxie’s room.

Waking up to general panic, however, was not as good.

“Morgana’s alive and coming for us!”

You sat up just in time to see Morgana’s hand reach through a shadow portal, only for Claire to shut the thing before any real damage could be done.

“Well… that’s not good,”

“Douxie, what do we do?”

Your wizard turned to face you, then Claire, then the empty space where the portal had been.

“Merlin?”

You nodded, “Yeah, Merlin,”

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THIS IS SO GOOD!!!

Whumptober Day 31: this could be angstier and maybe i’ll re-write it next year idk | Reader

Plot:  You have to hurt your boi or hurt your boi, and it’s halloween

Word Count: 6,437

Warnings:  Torture, reader is forced to kiss someone

A/N:  Ok, so i wrote most of this late at night, and most of it is rushed because i wanted to get it out on halloween, but whatever.  take this thing i made, i hope you enjoy

Tag List:  @furblrwurblr​ @einahpetsyarcip​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05

T’was a long time ago, longer now than it seems, because quarantine likes to fuck up everyone’s time management.  It wasn’t actually that long ago if I’m being honest.

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This is amazing! You wrote the emotions soooo well!! I'm so excited to read the next one, please keep me in the taglist.

Heart Like Yours - Part. I

Show: JaTP

Pairing: ghost!Luke Patterson x Molinaxreader; Julie Molina x cousin!reader

Summary: After playing the Orpheum and being saved by Julie from Caleb’s curse, Luke looks for Y/n, determined to tell her how he feels, but he wasn’t expecting to find her in a hospital bed, fighting for her life.

Words: 3,7k

Warnings: mentions of car accident; drunk driving (please, never drive while intoxicated); blood

Author’s notes: Y/n is Julie’s cousin, on her father’s side. She can see the boys, like Julie, but due to unfortunate events, Y/n doesn’t know she can now touch the boys as well. Also, I used the song Heart Like Yours from the If I Stay movie. This imagine is also inspired from the movie. Also, I may or may not have planned a second part for this imagine.

Los Angeles, 2020

The day after playing the Orpheum was anything but what Luke expected. He wanted to celebrate with Julie, Alex and Reggie, but most importantly, he wanted Y/n to be here. Except she wasn’t, and he had been looking for her all morning until Julie eventually came to the studio with the bad news.

Y/n had gotten in an accident on her way back home from the Orpheum after Julie and the Phantoms’ performance. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver speeding down the opposite lane, his vehicle diverting onto Y/n’s lane before the collision. It had sent Y/n flying in the driver’s seat, hitting her head badly against the dashboard whilst the windshield shattered when her car rolled over on the hood, sending shards of glass everywhere.

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This is so cute! I love the way you write!!!

Winner Takes All (JATP Reggie x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Request: (wattpad @junhossmile) Can you do a Reggie x Reader Reader also has a Band and both bands meet each other on something like a competition. And even though they are rivals in this competition, Reggie and Reader find some interest in each other. 

Prompt/summary:  Reader is competing against the Phantoms at a Battle of the Bands and Reggie tries to catch her attention

Word Count: 1,645

Authors note: 1995 setting AGAIN I KNOW I”M SORRY THIS JUST FIT THE BEST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 To say I was competitive was a little bit of an understatement.

I wanted to win, I expected to win, I was going to win. No if’s and’s or but’s about it honestly. My band was good, everyone at our high school said we were going to make it big one day. Call me cocky but the music we made really came from our hearts and everyone involved was so passionate it was hard to ignore us when we were on stage. 

That energy really needed to show through tonight.

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The way you write the characters is so real and amazing!!! I can't wait to see where this goes!!!!

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt8

hello everyone!! i hope you’re having a fantastic weekend :) 

pt1

pt7

pt9

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” (Y/N) said quickly. “I’m totally fine, just have amnesia.” She knocked against her skull. “Nothing’s getting in here, I guess.” Before Asami could speak, Korra knocked on the door of the sparring room.

“How’s it going?”

“Well…” Asami started, glancing down at (Y/N). She stared up at Korra, a frown pulling at the ends of her lips.

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I can't process how amazingly cute this is. All the emotion is so well writen!!!

Whumptober Day 21, 22, 23: pain, painkillers, sleep | Reader

Plot:  Part 4, F L U F F

Word Count: 3,044

Warnings:  Hospitals and very brief suicidal thoughts

A/N:  Douxie is fuckin sad, but after that there’s fluff.  BETA READ BY @furblrwurblr​ THANKS BRO I LOVE U

Tag List:  @furblrwurblr​ @einahpetsyarcip​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05

Douxie woke up in Jim Lake Jr.’s living room, dazed, confused, and concerned for your safety.  

He was alone.  Sun was streaming through the windows.  Everything was quiet.  For a second, he thought he’d died, and for that second, he was relieved.  Death meant he wouldn’t have to torture you anymore.  But he wasn’t dead.  You, on the other hand, were in the process of dying.  

And for Douxie, that was torture.  

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Ah, how is your writing this good??? I'm so engaged and I can't wait for the next!!

Whumptober Day 19: Broken Hearts | Reader

Plot:  Part 3!!  Torture!!

Word Count: 3,158

Warnings:  Torture, threats, demons, possession, the demon is a mega asshole still

A/N:  Whump

Tag List:  @furblrwurblr​ @einahpetsyarcip​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05

Nari was not having a good time right now.  Her guardians, her protectors were dealing with some massive evil presence, and there wasn’t much she could do other than look for help with Archie.

Archie was also not having fun.  He was supposed to protect Douxie, to look out for him and make sure he was safe.  But now?  Now Douxie was anything but safe.  It was a new kind of horror, the cat-dragon decided, to watch his oldest friend get tortured in his sleep; to watch his skin tear on its own and the blood stain the sheets.  And then he had to leave him.  He had to leave his wizard, his boy, who he had watched over for almost a thousand years, to an uncertain fate.  He trusted you, of course, but this thing, this darkness that haunted you was a force to be reckoned with.  He didn’t want either of you to be hurt more than you already had been.

The two of them ran for a while until they found a payphone, which is literally the luckiest anyone ever gets in this story because those things are almost extinct, and called for help.  After that, all they could do was wait.

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This is so great, I almost cried. I can't wait for more!

Second Chances - Part 2 (Reggie x Reader)

(Part 1)

Pairing: Julie and the Phantoms - Reggie x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Reggie have been together for two wonderful, beautiful years. And then they both die. Bummer. But their afterlives offer them a second chance at their relationship and what they both love doing best - making music.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Thank you so much on the love for part one! Part two honestly flew out of me y’all. The reunion ended up being longer than anticipated so I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you want to be tagged, feel free to send in requests, and as always thank you so much for reading! - Abbey xo

*************

“No way.” I gasped. “No freakin’ way.” 

It was the studio. Our studio. Where we had spent hours and hours as Sunset Curve, making music, laughing, living out our dreams. What the hell was I doing standing outside of it? How the hell was I standing outside of it? 

I startled as the door opened and a young girl walked out, maybe 16. She was looking over her shoulder and laughing before she turned and caught sight of me. She stopped in her tracks, raising her eyebrows.

“Um, hi?” she said. “Who are you?” She crossed her arms.

“Who am I? Who the hell are yo -” I started, my voice cutting off as a boy followed her out of the studio. “Luke?” I whispered, my voice breaking. And it was. There he was, Luke Patterson, my best friend, standing in the doorway of our studio and staring at me with his mouth hanging open.

“Wait, you can see them?” the girl asked, looking back and forth between Luke and I.

“Them?” I breathed, not daring to get my hopes up about who them could be. A loud laugh sounded as Alex stumbled out of the garage, stopping short as he saw me.

“Y/N?” he asked, stepping closer to me, looking like he had seen a ghost.

He had, but you know what I mean.

“Oh my god.” I sobbed. Luke. Alex. That meant - 

Time all but stopped as Reggie walked out of the studio. 

“Wait guys what are we looking at -” his voice trailed off as he saw me. “Oh my god.” he whispered, stepping past the boys and unknown girl and closer to me. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice choking as he stared at me in disbelief. The sound of my name coming from his mouth had me launching myself at him, sobbing.

“Reg. Oh my god, Reggie.” I cried as he caught me in his arms. I vaguely registered the sounds of Luke and Alex ushering the girl away, but I was too caught up in Reggie; his arms and feel and smell. I was overwhelmed by everything about him. “I’m so sorry baby. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said I’m sorry I love you I love you I love you -” I cried, hugging him tightly. His grip matched mine, as if we were both afraid that the other would disappear.

“Shh, baby. Shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” he whispered, pulling back to look at my face, brushing the tears from my cheeks even as tears flowed down his own. I stared at him, trying to drink all of him in as I gripped his arms. “How?” he asked, his voice breaking, looking at me in disbelief before smiling. 

“I don’t know.” I said, returning his smile as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine. “How are you here?” I asked, tracing the planes of his face with my fingers. 

“It’s a long story.” he chuckled, leaning into my touch. “But first, there is something that I’ve been desperately needing to do for 25 years.” he said, gripping my waist and pulling me closer as he leaned in.

Our lips met and I thought I was dying all over again. In a good way this time. Every inch of me felt like I was exploding, his lips moved against mine and I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as his hands against my waist tightened. I wanted to get closer, needed to get closer to him. God, I would never get enough of him. This kiss reminded of our first one 27 years ago, full of fire and sparks and electricity -

“Wait.” I said, pulling back and breathing heavily, leaving Reggie with his eyes still closed and leaning forward, lips still slightly puckered. “Did you say twenty five years?”

“Uh, um, yeah, I did.” he said, still in a daze. His hand brushed my cheek lightly, as if to check that I was still real. “It’s - it’s a long story. That would probably be told better with the boys to help.” He leaned down to kiss me again, soft pecks this time. Once, twice, three times before he sighed, leaning his forehead against mine again. “You’re real.” he whispered, as if saying it too loudly would make me disappear. 

“I am.” I replied softly before smiling. “Or at least as real as a ghost can be.” He chuckled lightly. “Speaking of ghosts,” I said, turning away from Reggie to the direction I had heard the boys leaving. “You can come out now!” I called. I laughed as I heard whooping and cheering as Alex and Luke flew down the steps, the girl following them. 

“We were definitely listening.” Luke beamed as they came to a halt in front of me. I squeezed Reggie’s hand before letting go and stepping forward, taking a moment to stare at my two best friends. “Welcome home, Y/N.” Luke softly, still smiling at me. I laughed as I flung my arms around him, feeling his wrap around my waist tightly as he buried his face in my neck.

“It is very good to be here.” I replied, the smile on my face so wide my cheeks hurt. I heard a slight sniffle to the left of me and blindly reached out, grabbing the air until I made contact with Alex’s shirt. “Get your ass over here Alex.” I said, pulling his shirt and drawing him into the hug. We stood like that for a moment, holding each other, before I felt Reggie come up behind me and wrap his arms around me too. I breathed in as I gripped Luke and Alex, smiling as I was sandwiched in the middle of our group hug. A few more moments passed as we held each other, breathing each other in before Luke broke away and turned towards the girl. Alex briefly took over all the space in my arms, squeezing me tightly and kissing the top of my head before also letting go.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/N.” he whispered softly then stepped back. I felt Reggie’s arms slip around my waist again as he settled in behind me, and I leaned back into his embrace.

“Y/N,” Luke said proudly, grabbing my attention. “I’d like you to meet Julie.” He gestured to the girl who waved slightly at me and smiled. “Julie, I’d like you to meet the talented, the incredible, the coolest member of Sunset Curve and the greatest rhythm guitarist known to man; Y/N.” I laughed at his introduction, and Reggie leaned in to kiss my cheek, smiling.

“It’s true.” he whispered quietly in my ear.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Julie said, smiling at me before her brow furrowed slightly. She turned to Luke. “I thought you said that Trevor Wilson, or Bobby or whatever his real name is was your rhythm guitarist?”

Luke looked at me awkwardly, hesitating before replying. “Uh, yeah… he was. But Y/N was our guitarist before Bobby until Y/N had to leave -”. 

“Julie?” Someone called from up the top of the stairs, cutting Luke off. I jumped slightly, panicking. Reggie squeezed my waist in response. 

“It’s okay, it’s just Julie’s dad. He can’t see us. Or hear us. Julie is the only lifer who can.” I raised my eyebrows, turning slightly to face him properly.

“Oh, I have so many questions.” He smiled at me, kissing my temple and laughing slightly. 

“Trust me, I know.” he replied. 

“You talking to someone Julie?” her dad asked as he walked into view. Julie’s eyes widened as she not so subtly waved at us to go inside before turning to her dad.

“What? No! Of course not!” she replied, her voice way too high pitched to be considered normal. I snorted lightly at her inability to lie and she turned towards us again, eyes still wide and gestured with her head. 

“C’mon,” Reg said, pulling me in the direction of the studio, smiling. “We have got a lot of catching up to do.” 

To be continued! - Abbey xo

Tag list:

@schnapp-my-neck @lunar-wings-rose221

Well this is just so cute!!

Douxtober Day 6:  A Lot Happens in a Short Amount of Time

Plot:  You remember the child surprise from the Witcher?  yeah, this was it’s distant cousin, the surprise child.  (No one is pregnant, I promise)

Word Count:  2,442

Warnings:  Children (and i ignore how both kids and adoption work)

A/N:  Oh look, a Douxtober fic!  no whump here!  And it’s technically a part of aaty (if you want it to be)

Tag List:  @furblrwurblr​ @einahpetsyarcip​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05

Life was a funny thing.  Sometimes you got tortured, sometimes you moved in with your boyfriend, his familiar, sometimes your boyfriend died and came back to life trying to save the world, and sometimes, you accidentally adopted a child.

It just be like that occasionally.

And you could explain this!  You totally could, 100%.  This wasn’t just the two of you plus Archie and technically Zoe shoplifting a kid, there was a lot more to it than that.  

Keep reading

Soooo good!! This is a great comfort fic!!

Lullaby ~Luke P. imagine

Summary: *Fluff* Luke comes over and finds out his girlfriend hasn’t been getting sleep between school and working. He gives her just what she needs to fall asleep 

A/n: Luke and reader can touch each other in this so you can have it take place before he dies or that she’s a lifer that can see/touch him. Also, I hummed the lyrics to the beginning beat of “Unsaid Emily” and now im 👁👄👁

Requested by: @lukessimp​

Word Count: 909

The Saturday morning light shines through your bedroom window as you stay hunched over your desk. With your eyes peeled open, the pen in your hand continues to scribble against the worn-out notebook. 

“Property of density..” Your lips barely move as you mumble the definition, “No, no no… that’s the property of substance” 

Your eyes move up to your textbook as you try to find the correct wording for your notecard, silently cursing yourself for taking on a double science this semester. You let out a huff, setting down the pen and pushing the palms of your hands into your eye sockets. 

Keep reading

This is absolutely riveting, I love the soulmate AU, Reader has a messed up backstory, and Daredevil is being as angsty as possible? PERFECT!!!

This is gonna be amazing, I can tell already 😍

Claimed by the Devil

Small Creatures, Chapter 1

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When the well-known vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen saves you from disaster, you realize he might mean more to you than you thought.

warnings: swearing, Matt Murdock’s self-destructive tendencies, mentions of a cult and subsequent trauma, allusions to drowning

a/n: This is it, y’all! A Matt Murdock soulmate AU as requested by that poll a few weeks ago. A HUGE shoutout to @zomtart for helping me plan this AU!! I am so excited to share this new verse with you, I really hope you like it! As always, please let me know what you think by replying and reblogging! This chapter takes place about a month before the beginning of Daredevil S2.

w/c: 4.1k

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only bearable through love.” Carl Sagan

Since the creation of man, each soul was created with another. Two, sometimes more, mirrored fractions of a whole, destined to forge a bond. Particles of a spiritual atom, drawn to each other by invisible forces, finally satisfied through connection. Soulmates. Each body marked with a symbol, to help them find their other half. Sometimes a word or a shape, a small clue to start their journey.

For a while, that journey was short. It would still take time, of course, to meet your soulmate, to fall in love—but it took less than one lifetime, while the world was still small, the human race still growing.

After a few generations, and centuries of invention, the population began to travel. Groups of people living on all 6 continents, developing new cultures, traditions, languages. As they moved, the average distance between bound pairs grew. It became less common to ever meet your match. Humanity found love in other places, built families on opposite sides of the globe, living their entire existence without their intended.

With each non-bound couple, came children without bonds. Scientists have puzzled over the phenomenon for years, some drawing the conclusion that our biology began to reject the bond, to continue without it as if it was a recessive gene. Through countless wars and plagues, and the continued spread of humanity, finding your soulmate was almost an impossibility.

And then the pendulum swung back. Wars became fewer, food more prevalent, medicine more exact. Lifespans were stretched and, with the help of machines, it was easier than ever to find your soulmate. The damage of an era without them began to repair itself.

Within 5 generations, chances of forming a true bond soared from one in one-thousand to one in thirty.

A sharp vibration from your laptop interrupted the voice in your head. Glancing at the bubble that flashed across your screen, you rolled your eyes at the message. It was the seventh—yes, SEVENTH—in a string of emails from the same haughty woman demanding the pictures of her great aunt's 90th birthday party.

The party was beautiful, and the photos reflected that, but it had been less than 48 hours since the event. Every contract you signed gave you a window of 5-7 business days to edit the photos, more time depending on the length of the shot list you were given and the number of pictures they wanted. If this woman wanted professional, edited photos, she needed to give you a damn break.

Clicking on the small white cross in the corner of the pop-up, you huffed out a small laugh, imagining the fuming woman growing redder in the face when you didn't answer her at 4:02 on a Sunday afternoon. Setting your own hours, as well as being able to ignore frustrating clients during your down time, were just two of the perks of running your own photography business. The flexible schedule and lack of strict routine were a welcomed change after your upbringing in a highly controlled community.

While you did understand why experts used that terminology, you were much more content calling your “community” what it was: a cult. “High control group”—or whatever other politically-correct, secular terminology people wanted to use to describe a bunch of adults deciding to use their limited power to exploit others in the name of some bogus goal—was too polite for the assholes from your hometown. The bumfuck rural town where “religious” leaders congregated to torture dozens of children over a tiny, immovable mark on their skin.

A brand of the devil. That’s what they claimed soulmarks were. The sign of a being destined for evil. And, in order to save humanity from said evil, it was up to this specific community to cleanse you of your threatening aura, to rid the demonic energy from your body and spare your soul.

They’d used written and verbal propaganda, forbid outside contact, relied heavily on fear-mongering—the whole nine yards of brainwashing, all to supposedly grant the town salvation. Given that your particular mark was on the inside of your right wrist? Well, it definitely didn’t help the “damned” accusations coming your way.

Something flashed across your mind. A memory. Tepid water, turning frigid as you were forced deeper and deeper. All traces of oxygen slowly draining from your lungs, your body struggling desperately against the hands gripping you forcefully by the arms, holding you under.

Shuddering with discontent, your mark itched fiercely, as if it was trying to snap you out of the flashback. Absentmindedly dragging a nail over it to quell the unpleasant sensation, you inhaled deeply, studying the image as you did.

It was a simple thing, a series of a few lines just over the pulse point on your forearm. Two triangles, placed horizontally and pointing away from each other, with three small straight lines fanning out beneath. From your limited knowledge, it was a rune of some sort, though you hadn’t been able to narrow down the origin or meaning quite yet. Not scary enough to warrant the actions taken by your wonderful hometown though.

After surviving, and escaping, your upbringing, a lack of a rigid schedule was a necessity—which meant freelance event photography was a perfect career path. Unfortunately, an anxious mind and spontaneity didn't always mix.

It didn't matter that you didn't hear the messaging daily anymore. You were still struggling to unravel the mind games and indoctrination you'd been subjected to, hence the re-reading of this particular article. It wasn't the most informative, and the author clearly had a fully-realized bond herself, but it was the first piece of literature you'd ever read that wasn't propaganda.

There was a historical explanation for the disappearance of your condition, as well as a documented existence of others like you. Your mark didn't make you evil—it meant you were loved.

You re-read the blurb on days like today. Days where your conscience buzzed with apprehension, adrenaline flowing freely despite the lack of danger. There was something in the air around you. A warning, illustrated by the tiniest changes in your environment. On days like these, you felt like a bug beneath a descending shoe, scrambling to understand what was coming so you could make it out alive.

Expecting a disaster was illogical, you knew that. But reason wasn't the driving force in your brain on the anxious days. It was your desperate need to survive, to be prepared. On your bad days, your eyes flew open like you'd heard the door come crashing in or felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol against your temple—your body readying for a fight before you were even fully conscious.

Those days, your heart hammered in your chest, battering your ribs until they ached. Your lungs constricted when your blood pressure rose, each breath coming as a pant as you struggled to inhale enough oxygen. One wrong move and you'd send yourself spiraling into a full anxiety attack. Hopefully, you'd at least be able to stave that off over the last hour of daylight today.

Chewing at the edge of your thumbnail, you aimlessly scrolled through the page again, blowing out a terse sigh. The biggest annoyance when it came to your anxiety was that each experience was unique. There wasn't a universal solution. Sometimes, staying at home where it was familiar and safe was all you needed to settle your nerves. Other times, the constancy only made you more jittery.

As much as you'd wished that a sedentary day would slow your pulse and ease your breathing, that clearly was not in the cards.

Time for Plan B.

Growling almost inaudibly, you resisted the urge to start pulling your hair out strand by strand. Working up the energy to get through the door was always the hard part. As exhibited by your professional side, freedom to roam and choose your own path was vital. Despite your nervous brain trying to deny it, leaving your place to wander on a small adventure would be good for you in the long run.

When you'd escaped the clutches of the nutjobs running your old neighborhood, you'd made a promise to yourself–try at least one new thing every week. It seemed childish, but you'd missed out on so many things when under the control of the Order, you wanted to make up for that. Pretty quickly, it became clear that you thrived on flexibility and exploration.

So you kept up with it. Made a list of things in case you ever ran out of inspiration or couldn't decide what to choose next. That line of scribbles in a worn notebook came in handy on days where you disappeared into yourself, where you lacked the excitement that normally accompanied your little outings. Allowing the intense reluctance in your gut to churn, you reached for the leatherbound pages, sliding the book from where it lay on the coffee table and into your lap. Heaving out a breath, despite your protesting lungs, you thumbed through the paper, letting the smell of ink and coffee-stained parchment wash over you.

You weren't looking for something big. And the idea had to be plausible, there would be no mountain climbing or language learning in a single evening. Trailing a finger to the side of the dried ink, you skimmed each bullet point, eyes lingering on a particularly messy string of words.

“Golden Skyline Ink 48”

Thankfully, the gibberish you'd immortalized was recent enough that you could decipher it. Sunset photos of the skyline from the Ink 48 Hotel. You'd swung by the prestigious building for a meeting with a potential client, but you'd been too busy to snap a decent shot from the roof before your next errand of the day.

Pondering for a minute, you decided to go with your hesitant gut instinct. You craned your neck, hunting down your camera bag as you rolled your shoulder to unravel the tension balled up in them. Shoving up from your horizontal position on the couch, you closed your laptop and shuffled towards the door. Hefting the bag into your arms, you strode down the entryway.

Your hand reached for the doorknob at a snail's pace, halting mere inches from it as if the brass had a forcefield around it. ”You can do this.“ You muttered to yourself, forcing your fingers past the barrier and around the knob.

Stepping through the door, you flinched at the bright fluorescence of the hallway lights, hissing slightly like a vampire seeing the sun in a cheesy TV show. Swallowing the flash of pain in your head as the lights continued to beam down, you took another step. Here goes nothing.

Matt was grateful for the new body armor. He was, really.

He just wished Melvin’s talents included making the damn thing breathable. He’d never admit that, of course. On the spectrum of pain he lived with, being a bit overheated was closer to the bearable end. It wasn’t a stab wound or a broken bone, it wouldn’t impede his patrolling. If he could work through a punctured lung, he could handle a little sweating.

But when the nights got quiet and slow, it was more difficult to keep his mind from latching on to the discomfort–blown out of proportion by his fickle senses.

Sitting atop an apartment building on 55th Street, Matt could feel pure thermal energy bubbling up from the concrete beneath his feet. The waves of heat collided with his shoes, seeping into the rubber soles and blanketing his skin. Around him, the short ledge wrapping around the roof refracted more warmth, sending the sweltering air to smack directly into him.

He wasn't a fan of the heat, never had been, but the thick, skin-tight suit he was wearing only exacerbated the issue. Sweat beaded in the paper-thin gap between his skin and the fabric surrounding it, suctioning it impossibly closer to his body. Grinding his teeth in aggravation, Matt prowled to the edge of the roof, leaping off and rolling to deflect the impact from shattering any of his limbs. With a quick jump, he was back on his feet, taking off towards the next building in the line.

If he patrolled towards the Hudson and back around, he could escape the worst of the heat without neglecting his duty to the city.

Not that there was much action these days. The past handful of weeks, his outings in the suit had been unusually unproductive. It wasn’t that he was missing out on fights–it’s that they didn’t exist. Gangs were staying holed up, petty crime had taken a dive, even the steady drug or arms traders like Turk had gone radio silent. As much as Matt wanted to believe that his time as Daredevil had made a lasting impact on the city he loved so dearly, a current of doubt continued to whirl beneath his skin.

Crime was more likely in the summer, that was an inevitability. Increased temperatures shortened people’s fuses. Spats with loved ones were more likely to turn violent, miscellaneous expenses are more likely to add up and cause financial distress, it was statistically probable that he’d have busier nights leading up to the fall. And yet, here he was, twiddling his glove-clad thumbs while metaphorical tumbleweeds were swept down the streets.

He was confident something had changed, but he hadn’t quite determined what. So, despite the lack of problems he felt the need to solve, he continued to remain out until all hours, ears straining to pick up a scream or the explosive pop of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

Body on high alert, he ambled towards the piers, vaulting from roof to roof in a familiar trajectory while his brain fought off an incoming onslaught of guilt at the notion of staying out. Foggy would be furious tomorrow, when he saw Matt gulping down the cheap coffee from their machine–which was held together by masking tape and sheer luck these days. Matt had foolishly admitted his conundrum to his business partner, remarking that the city had been eerily still lately, that there was less of a need for him. That he’d been searching so urgently for justification that he’d been going out before dusk.

The idea that Matt’s nighttime activity was no longer an absolute necessity had upset the tenuous understanding the pair had reached over said activity. A simple slip of his tongue and Matt was on the receiving end of Foggy’s chastising, being told he should take advantage of the lull and “get some goddamned rest for once”. (Foggy’s words, not his own.) The renewed argument had become such a frequent topic of discussion that Karen had almost been clued in a few times when Matt’s frustration had narrowed his senses. Just that morning, he and Foggy had been going at it when she’d arrived at the office, surprising both of them with her bright greeting and intrigued glance.

Hurling himself to the next rooftop, Matt huffed out an aggravated breath, clenching his fists as his muscles tightened with irritation, his friend’s desperate pleas echoing in his head.

“You can’t keep going like this.”

“You’re hurting yourself for nothing.”

“The city will be fine without you.”

That last one stung the most, ripping open an invisible wound he’d crudely stitched after taking down Fisk. His work had helped people. His infamous alter ego was the final straw in the case against the organized criminal, imperative to his arrest. To the people of this city, Daredevil mattered–which meant Matt Murdock mattered.

If he boxed up the suit…

No. That wasn’t an option. He couldn’t–

The shuffle of a shoe on concrete caught his attention, snapping him out of his downward spiral. His chest trembled as he panted in and out, his shallow breaths deepening as he focused in the direction of the noise. He wasn’t alone.

Mouth parting as his atypical radar closed in, his nose scrunched with slight confusion, brow furrowing with concern. There was a person perched on the brick ledge–a woman, balancing on her tiptoes and facing the city. She hadn’t noticed him, her pulse far too slow. Her hands held something blocky, the plastic object dragging along her skin as she positioned it, arms outstretched over the nearly 20 story drop to the pavement below.

He bit back an incredulous scoff as she bent further towards her death, practically rolling his eyes to the heavens as he approached. Not only was this position begging for disaster to strike, she had one headphone in, her lips moving as if mouthing along to the lyrics. She heaved in a dramatic exhale.

“Let’s try this again,” She murmured, finger slotting into a divot on an edge of the thing in her grasp, prompting a series of mechanical clicks to burst from it. Shutter sounds. A camera. A camera? You were risking your life for a photo?

Before he could judge you too harshly, your mouth twitched and your heart rate jumped. You’d realized he was there, then.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” He quipped, his lips twitching with a hint of a smirk as you squeaked indignantly.

It was only amusing for a moment.

As you whirled to face him, apparently surprised that he was there, you lost your footing, tumbling backward off the ledge.

For what it was worth, your little adventure had been going pretty well before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen almost killed you.

There weren’t too many people out tonight, probably because it was disgustingly hot, so you’d made good time–jogging the few blocks to the hotel and sneaking into the elevator with a young couple who were too busy being at each other’s throats to care that you slipped in. The roof was vacant and more perfect than you could’ve dreamed. Swathed in the lights of nearby skyscrapers, you were presented with a gorgeous panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at sunset, the stark red-orange hue of the sky peeking between towering steel.

Once you’d attached the proper lenses, you began snapping photos, but you couldn’t get the exposure to set correctly. To capture a good picture at this time of evening, you needed the settings to be just so. It was a tedious, attention-consuming process, that, when combined with the soft music blasting from your lone earbud, had prohibited you from hearing someone approach…until he spoke.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” His growl was low, but contained traces of a humor you weren’t expecting.

Damn your anxious self for startling so easily. With a tiny squeal, you slipped from the ledge, your careful posture crumbling as you fell. Your heart lodged in your throat, air rushing into your ears as you began to descend, but before you could even scream, a pair of warm hands grasped you firmly by the arm.

Face jerking up, your eyes locked onto the masked vigilante’s snarl of exertion as he hauled you over the cement shelf and onto stable ground.

Breathing shakily, still in his grip, your face went slack with a nauseating combination of shock and relief. “Th-thank you.”

He let out a puff of a laugh. “You’re welcome. That was a close call. Do I need to call a hotline?”

Shaking your head furiously, you scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself as you backed away from your savior. “No, I’m good, that wasn’t the plan. I just–”

As you began to retract himself from his hold, his thumb brushed over your forearm, tracing the faintest line over your exposed soulmark. When his fingertip made contact with the lines over your wrist, the world exploded.

When you were a small child, you’d electrocuted yourself when unplugging a lamp. It was an act of rebellion against your parents when they had demanded you clean up after compulsory bible study. The inflicted shock had careened through your entire body, feeling as though you’d been dipped in boiling water and then flash-frozen as your body tried to adapt to the new current. An abrupt change of temperature, the suddenness uncomfortable but the aftermath numbingly calm.

Touching the Devil felt like that.

Your mark glowed with warmth like embers in a dying fire. The hair along your arm stood on end, your heart nearly bursting with energy as you were clobbered with a realization.

“You..you’re my–” You whispered, taking a step closer to the vigilante.

His hand had clasped around your wrist, holding it delicately, chin dipping towards his chest. His breaths were labored, his complexion seeming to grow more pale as he ran a calloused finger over the mark again.

“I don’t–” Dropping your arm as if it had burned him, Daredevil’s face settled into an angry mask as he hurriedly stepped away from you. “I have to go.”

“W-what?” You stammered, running your hands over your arms as your body recovered from his touch, goosebumps undulating beneath your palms. “But we–”

“It’s late. You should get home before it’s too dark.” He responded tersely, turning away from you. Striding across the roof, his hand landed on top of the short stack of bricks, head turning over his shoulder with a sorrowful pout. “I’m sorry.”

Gracefully jumping over the side, he was gone.

Feeling dumbfounded and slightly defeated, you stared after him for a minute before shouldering your bag and beelining for the fire escape.

Karen stretched her arms over her head, groaning softly as the knot of tension between her shoulders unfurled. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she jiggled the mouse on the desk before her, turning her laptop back on to try and appear busy. After the law firm of Nelson and Murdock put Wilson Fisk behind bars, the clientele began to pour in–though whether that was for their proven representation skills or their shitty but functional AC, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, there had been a steady stream of walk-ins this week. And now that it had finally slowed down, she felt almost disappointed.

Being a secretary at the tiny little office was one of the most interesting things she’d ever done. Each case presented completely new realities, new opportunities and challenges. It was like she was given the chance to start fresh every day, and she was grateful for it. But in moments like these where the people filed out of the crooked doors, it made her a bit antsy.

Foggy and Matt were buried in new evidence for a guardianship revocation, holed up in Matt’s office, leaving her to schedule their appointments. She sighed, contemplating whether or not to interrupt them, to ask for something to do. Depending on when the guys would be heading out, they might want dinner or more coffee…

As she was running through a list of takeout that all of them could stomach, that hadn’t been ordered too recently, a shy knock startled her. Door creaking open, a woman peeked in. She looked to be about Karen’s age, a timid but determined look on her face as she slowly rounded the slab of rotting wood.

Peeking around the office, she looked amazed at the closet-sized space, eyes opening a little wider as her lips curved into a smile. Karen couldn’t help but mirror her soft grin, finding the awed stranger endearing.

“Can I help you?” Karen’s question was posed at a low volume, but the girl jumped anyway, giving her a ‘deer in the headlights’ impression, hands clenched around the handle of her purse.

“Oh, um..sorry, yes.” The newcomer shifted from foot to foot, creeping marginally closer as she responded. Her voice was soft, full of doubt. “I, er, I’m looking for Karen Page?”

“That would be me,” Karen smiled as encouragingly as she could. “Were you looking for legal advice? Because I’m not an attorney–”

Shaking her head, the stranger continued to step forward chewing on her lip. “That’s not why I’m here. I saw your posts about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? If you have time, I had some questions?”

Karen felt herself flush, her eyes flitting down to her clasped hands as she suddenly felt very exposed. “Oh that’s not– I mean, I just wrote a few comments on some nasty blog posts, it’s nothing really. Why come see me?”

Inhaling shakily, the girl rubbed a hand over her arm, clearly trying to muster the confidence to reveal her reason for finding Karen. “I know this is strange but..I think Daredevil might be my soulmate? And I was hoping you might know where I could find him.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase

so idk if yiu guys have read “the therapist” bill x reader fanfic on a03, BUT i just finished the first page (chapter? idk how a03 works lmao) i have some comments.

oh yeah almost didn’t spoiler this lmao

Spoiler for “the therapist”!!!!

ok so after bill started getting moody, the therapist was like “oh dw dude ill change into smth more familiar for you” and then i saw a future line out of the corner of my eye of bill having a panic attack, and istg. not fucking joking right now. i had ti take a whole moment away from my screen like “please dont fucking turn into a euclidian— please dont turn into a fucking euclidian…”

THEY FUCKING TURNED INTO A EUCLIDIAN. AND IF THAT WASNT BAD ENOUGH IT WAS HIS FUCKING MOM?????

LIKE WHAT???😭😭

NO YOU CANT— WTF?? WHAT??? IM ACTUALLY GOING FERAL WHY TF WOULD THEY DO THAT???😭😭

im going clynicly insane.

In Between

written by vicaniyun | krisho | 145,529 | mature

Between juggling a demanding job and a family, single father Wu Yifan is a very busy man. After spending his day off taking a sick child to the hospital, Yifan meets Kim Junmyeon, a doctor with a big heart and a warm smile. Yifan doesn’t think much of it until they bump into one another as they drop their kids off for soccer practice a few weeks later. Perhaps they have more in common than Yifan originall thought…

Sequel: Never Too Late

pisces’s take: SS

i love kidfics. i love krisho. a krisho kidfic? wonderful.

i don’t know why i never put this fic on here despite having read it like,,,,,,, three times,,,,,,,,, but it’s now here, and lemme tell you: i’m still just as in love with it as i was the first time.

there’s something about reading about parents loving their kids (and each other) that gets to you, you know? and this fic is just that–and more. i don’t know what else to say about it. it’s soft, with a little darker themes on the side, but miss Miya, our wonderful author, has always been able to handle those themes perfectly. 

Wind Breaker band AU

[This is a fanmande, non-profitable project. Neither me nor the creator of the original idea have any connections to the creators of neither the anime nor manga of Wind Breaker]

(writen by: Yegdreon)

(original idea by: @aiiry-0 )

[Chapter 1]

Sakura Haruka, a 15 year old boy who was born with an interesting but odd appearance. His hair is half black half white, and his right eye is blue while his left eye is yellow. His been bullied for almost his whole life because of that, so, as a way to shut those bullies mouths, he learned to fight. He was so good at it that the people of his town started calling him a monster. Those were rough times to Sakura. But one day, while one of his bullies fell to the ground with his punches, said bullie dropped something, a CD. Curious as a cat, Sakura asked:

— Why would you carry this with you while fighting? Are you trying to damage it or somethin'?

— It's for my sister.— said the bullie, trying to get out of Sakura's enemy list— She's in the hospital and music is the only way that she'll stop cryin'.

Sakura was intrigued by this. He liked music already, but he had never thought of it as a way to relieve stress.

— Hey, you!— yelled Sakura— What store did you get this from?

— From the store down the street— said the bullie, not noticing Sakura's obvious blush— Just, please let me go. I'll never do that again.

At this point Sakura wasn't even listening, as he walked away, going in the direction the bullie pointed to.

Once he got in, he silently walked to the counter.

— Where's the rock music section?— he mumbled, barely understandable.

— What? —The girl on the counter asked, teasingly— You'll have to speak up.

WHERE'S THE TOCK MUSIC SECTION? —he yelled, with a burning red blush.

That's more like it!— she said, laughing— It's the one more at the right.

Sakura quickly turns around, walking really fast to said section.

He picks up a CD, and comes back to the counter.

— Ya know...— says the girl— If you really like music, you should come to Furin High. We have an amazing band that'd be more than happy to let you join.

—Huh!— says Sakura, perplexed by the straightforwardness of the girl— I don't like it that much! And you shouldn't go making assumptions like that about people you don't even know!— he picks his new CD, and sprints at the door, before suddenly stopping— I'm already enlisted at that school anyway.

Sakura walks out. The girl smiles and yells:

—Then see you there!

Two months pass by, and Sakura has turned into a regular at the CD store. Over the course of those two months, he has accumulated an amount of 30 different CDs.

—How do you even get enough money to buy so many CDs?— Asks the girl that works at the CD store, worried about his financial situation.

— It's not like I'm stealing it from anyone, nor something like that!— responds Sakura, worried that he'd be judged.

—Dude, no one said anything about stealing.— She said, trying to figure out what led him to such answer.

—KOTOHA!!

They hear a deafening loud shout coming from outside.

— Who's that?! —asked Sakura, a bit scared of such vocal strength— Is it someone tryna to pick a fight?!

The girl sighs, then she turns to Sakura and says:

— No it isn't. Just come with me please.

They both leave the store and are immediately met with around 20 people outside. Sakura changes to a fighting stance, prepared to fight. The girl stops him, gets closer to the man at the front of the crowd. She raises her hand, and SLAPS him.

— How many times have I told you to knock on the door when you need me? Huh?— she yells her lungs out, while raising her hand preparing to slap him again.

— I'm so sorry Kotoha,— he replies— I just didn't want to let them out here waiting so long.— then, he holds her left hand and says— Could you please open the restaurant for us, we're starving.

She promptly slaps him again with her right hand. Then she says:

—Give me five minutes.

After she closed the CD shop, she goes up to the door of the café right beside it, and opens the door. All of them go in and sit down. Sakura goes in as well, confused about everything that's going on.

— Umemiya, meet Sakura. He is the guy that frequents the CD store daily.— Kotoha then turns to Sakura— Sakura, meet Umemiya. He's the one that manages both the fighting club and the band from Furin High.

— Nice to meet you Sakura!— says Umemiya, bursting with joy— So, what kind of music do you listen to?

— R-ro-rock music— answers Sakura, still trying to get a grasp on the situation.

— Hahah!— he laughs— Seems like this year's students all have the same taste. Well, Sakura, if you ever want to try playing an instrument or even singing, just come to the club room. We'd be all happy to teach you.

Sakura fervorsly blushes. He then sprints out while yelling:

— I'll think about it!