sunlit hair


Just a little Doumeki/Yashiro mermaid AU ficlet that is completely based on @flabbergastedboatwoman‘s amazing fanart. Of course it is dedicated to her because she’s super-talented and gives me saezuru feels.

Doumeki woke up to the sound of the ocean and the squawk of seagulls. One side of his face was planted in sand and his head felt like it was full of rocks, the noise assaulting him. Pushing up into a sitting position he dizzily wiped the grit from his cheek, squinting into the sun as water lapped at his sodden legs. 

How did he get here? The last thing he remembered was the storm, how fast it turned the world dark, faster than the crew could ready the ship. Blinded by wind and rain he’d been knocked overboard at some point, his sister’s face the last thing on his mind as he went under, swallowing too much water. 

Something touched him and he jumped, eyes going wide as it settled across his legs. 

He’d heard the tales; long nights on deck with nothing but whiskey and the ocean had loosened sailors’ tongues and sometimes they spoke in hushed tones of sirens and mermen, as if even mentioning their existence could bring about doom. Doumeki doubted the doom part because the merman in his lap was stunningly beautiful and something so lovely could not bring catastrophe. 

He should have been afraid but instead he was captivated. 

It was close, so close that Doumeki could see streaks of grey and green in its hazel eyes, could smell the salt on its pale glistening skin. Entranced, he tried to capture every bit of motion, from the distractingly lazy smile to the toss of sunlit hair to the deft long-fingered hands that clung to his thighs. A shimmering turquoise tail fluttered where legs should be, an enticing roll of muscle that curled up at the end, mirroring the merman’s interest, and by the expression on its face, it was very interested. 

Doumeki took in a sharp breath as one of those sensuous hands slid down to cup his cock, molding it through his soaked pants. 

“You washed up on the wrong shore, cute sailor,” its voice was like drops of music, ripples on a pond, and as Doumeki’s heart lurched, his soul unwinding and reaching for the creature, he knew. 

He knew that even though he’d survived the storm and the sea, he would never survive this.


Do you ever just like to torture yourself thinking about Bellamy? I do.

Every time the gate jerks open, Bellamy thinks of her.

A lot has changed in two months since… since Mount Weather. Arkadia doesn’t flourish, but it grows all the same. It doesn’t happen all at once, but his friends slowly begin to recover from the nightmare of bunker passageways and cold cages, handcuffs and drills. Miller snarks at him, Monty cracks a smile, Harper doesn’t flinch when someone comes up behind her unexpectedly. Not everything is perfect, but for the most part they’re healing, they’re coping.

But every time the gate jerks open, Bellamy thinks of her.

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Bright CH.3

Genre: College!Au, Fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Jimin X Reader 

Summary: When college started to shift from ‘new and frightening’ to ‘exhausting and mentally draining’ you were somehow dragged into a duo of friends that made everything seem brighter. 

PARTS: Intro, CH 1 , CH 2 

The walk to his dorm was…


The campus was never truly empty, but the usually stuffed walkway was devoid of its typical flood of people from passing hours or lunch.

It was nice that you didn’t have to awkwardly squeeze past and avoid people, but other than the occasional couple or group of friends clustered together, the path was… strangely empty.

You trailed behind Jungkook, staring at the broad stretch of his back, his hunched shoulders, the tips of gold in his sunlit hair.  He had plugged an earbud in- a smart way to avoid conversation. You used it often enough; when you had your earbuds in, it was a signal for Minji to leave you alone. If he plugged in completely and kept walking ahead, he could ignore your presence completely.

But he couldn’t.

You couldn’t see the sweat on his palms or feel his racing pulse. You didn’t know what thoughts  were flooding his mind- how they were running around in circles, practically cartwheeling as he tried to keep his cool.

But you did notice when bright eyes flicked to you as he ‘adjusted’ the strap of his tote bag.

Normally you would brush it off as nothing special-

…if he didn’t do it so frequently.

He would glance back after a song would pass, as if checking to see if you were still there. Whenever your eyes met, he would bite his lip, quickly turning around to looking down at his feet before eventually looking back at you again.

It grew to be awkward after the first few glances.

The entire thing was awkward- it made you jittery, and for some reason you were always anticipating when he would look back.

Sick of it- the tension, the awkward backward glances- you pick up the pace, deciding to just walk by his side.

At first he didn’t notice, but when he looked back and saw that you weren’t there, he froze in place, whipping his head around to look for you-only to spot you much closer than before.

At the sight of his shook look, you couldn’t contain your huff of laughter, your lips curling into a small smile.

“I just didn’t want you to strain your neck, you know- with the number of times you turned to look back at me.” You couldn’t help but tease him a bit, finding the situation to be a bit ridiculous. You continue walking, but he was still stuck in place. “C’mon, we’re near the freshman dorms right?”


It felt nice, finally not being the one shaking themselves out of a stupor.

When the two of you finally enter his dorm room, your first instinct was to grimace when you spot the old, dirty couch in the ‘living room’ area.

You forgot how shitty the freshman rooms were. Small little cramped doubles and triples with bunk beds that almost touched the ceiling. That familiar bumpy plaster ceiling that broke and fell too easily onto the bed below.

How many times have you hit your head on that rough ceiling during your first year?

Too many times.

The small little desks and the uncomfortable ugly little black plastic chair- all much, much too familiar.

However, when you got over your uncomfortable first year trauma, his room was actually… not that bad.

He had a double like you, although his room was much smaller. You could tell which side of the room was his right away- the easel tucked away behind an open closet door and the tubes of paint scattered haphazardly across his desk were a big hint.

 The biggest giveaway were the numerous drawings and paintings on the wall near his bed. From simple pencil sketches to canvas paintings, his wall was a splash of color and multimedia textures that were begging to be explored. You even spotted a few polaroids scattered about, and a couple of sculptures sitting on his desk shelf.

 As he casually stepped into the room, dropping his tote bag and plugging in his phone to charge, you were drawn to the collage of artwork, fingers itching to reach out and touch.

 “Wow-” You barely refrain from reaching out. Instead you lean against the bed, eyes wide and curious. “Did you make all of these?”

 “Um- yeah. Most of it- the photographs are from a… friend.” After a moment of hesitation, you feel him step close, the sleeve of his hoodie brushing your arm as he points at the few polaroids on the wall.  “Do you know Vante?”

 “I’m don’t think I do-” Although the name was vaguely familiar, as if you’ve heard it whispered in the corner of a library. “Oh! Oh wait, yeah- Kim Taehyung? The student here who won that huge contest last year?”

 He nods, absentmindedly flattening the curled edge of a sketch.

 “No wonder the name was vaguely familiar- I’ve heard my roommate rave about the guy enough.” Minji was crazy about him- she actually had a few prints of his photos on her wall. The biggest was pasted right across your bed, a picture of train tracks in the midst of winter. “Not surprised you know a hot shot like that. You must have won a ton of awards yourself huh?”

“What?” His tone was incredulous as he shook his head rapidly, his hair fluffing out with every turn. “No, not at all.”

 “But everything here is so- amazing??” You floundered for words to describe the skill and craft spread across his dorm room. Flowers blooming, petals pink and velvety; a cat curled under a window, the sunlight making a pattern across its dappled skin; people frozen in mid-action, their hands curled around coffee cups and pencils, faces open and expressive. You even spotted a series of Jimin drawings- a lean body leaping across the stage, his hair flying mid-spin, eyes dark as he stares right back at you.

 It was talent- and for a moment you felt a sudden flash of insecurity, being partnered with this modern Leonardo.

 “The art teacher points your work out all the time- you’re practically on another level.” You couldn’t believe he wasn’t here for an art scholarship of some sort.

 “I’ve won a few small things…but nothing big like Taehyung.” Shyly ducking his head into the soft fabric of his hoodie, Jungkook bites at his bottom lip, bright eyes flicking between you and the floor. “You’ve been mentioned by the teacher too- you always manage to pull off using such unique color palettes…I only stick to common color pairings when I can.”

 Now you were the one looking down, face heating up to a fetching pink. It was flattering, getting complemented by an obviously talented artist, but…

 How could you explain that you only used weird color combinations because you ran out of certain colors of paint?

 It was better to just take the complement and push forward. “Well, I’m glad I got you as a partner.” This was surprisingly true. Some of the resentment that had been stewing inside from your first few ‘meetings’ have faded away.

 Bright-eyes turned out to just be shy.

 When he shoots you large grin, his nose scrunching up cutely, you were suddenly ignoring the realization that he was adorable as well. You did your best to push down the blush on your cheeks and fluttering in your stomach.

 “R-Right! So what were you thinking of for the project? She gave us a pretty vague prompt this time…” Pulling out your phone, you pull up the slide from lecture. “ Apparently we need to ‘create a painting that mixes you and your partner’s art styles to convey the theme of change’.”

 “ ‘Change’ huh…” Jungkook sits in his desk chair as the thinks it over, and you awkwardly look around for a place to sit. “Oh! Sorry sorry- you can, uh…” Looking around, he decides it was best to leave Yugyeom’s things alone. “I don’t know if my roommate is fine with people touching his stuff, so you can sit on my bed. Y-you know, if you want that is. It’s more comfortable than the floor.” He coughs and spins in his chair, avoiding your gaze.

 “Thanks.” The moment you get permission, you flop onto his bed and sit cross legged on the red and black sheets, making yourself comfortable. His room was surprisingly clean- no clothes piled on the back of a chair or bed, no messed up sheets- just a messy desk. You almost felt bad for messing up his sheets. Almost. “So ‘change’ can be almost anything we want…”

 As the two of you shoot ideas back and forth, time flies and before you knew it you needed to head back over to your dorm and get at least a few hours of sleep. The two of you fleshed out all the materials needed, and had finally chosen what to paint. The details- the composition and colors for the painting were saved for discussion in the next meeting.

 As you stretched out and smoothed Jungkook’s sheets, preparing to leave, he stood up as well.

 “Let me walk with you.”

 “It’s fine- I’ve walked alone for a year already-” You pause as you meet bright doe eyes just staring at you.

 “…okay.” You huff and turn, waiting for him to grab his keys.

 The walk back to your apartment was much less awkward. Instead, of plugged in headphones and constant glances, there was a companionable silence. The night blanketed the campus in shades of blue, and the streetlamps illuminated the path, casting a soft yellow glow as you pass by. You were too tired to really comment and force conversation, so it was nice- just listening to the crunch of your footsteps and feeling the cool wind of autumn brush past.

When you reach the door of your building, you were pleasantly surprised at how the day had gone, despite your original misgivings. “Thank you for walking me back, although you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

 There was a moment of quiet and you smile. “You know, you’re a pretty cool guy, Jeon Jungkook.” Giving him a little wave, you head up back to your shared room under his watchful gaze.

Minji was already back home, snuggled under her comforter, phone held above her in one hand. When you step in, she sits up, head tilted to the side. 

“What has you all smiley today?”

“Hm, nothing. Made a new friend, that’s all.” Your smile spreads as your phone dings with a message.



Nice meeting ya partner :)

I bet our painting will be the best in class heh


“Hm…with that expression on your face, it seems more like a boy- ‘friend’ to me~” She laughs when you throw a pillow at her, used to your antics. You were distracted from throwing more as you get another message.

Unknown Number

Hey! It’s Jimin

I have dance practice in a few days

Studio 150 at Art and Theatre

drop by if your free

maybe I can teach you a few moves ;)))

“…was I wrong?” Minji stares at you as you flop onto your bed face-first, muffling a scream. What was that winky face? You were just… flirted at (???) by a ridiculously attractive man- and your art partner was suddenly being too cute. It was more than you signed up for.

 And to think you still had work due the next day.

 Meanwhile in the studio across campus, Jimin locked his phone, full lips pressed into a smile as he leans back against the mirror.

 He hoped you came to visit.

Next: Coming Soon! 

Nine Days of Christmas [NurseyDex] - Day Two: Ice Skating

day one | day two | day three | day four | day five | day six | day seven | day eight | day nine |

The Samwell hockey teams host an event every year when the Pond freezes solid; the local kids get to strap on some skates and join the players on the ice for an hour or so. Dex kind of loves watching all the little kiddos stumble about, looking for some sort of purchase on the slick surface. He’s got a gentle glide going on next to Bitty as they shepherd a group of kids across the ice, taking care to not run into anyone.

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glass slippers,
blue gown,
sunlit hair all neatly tied.
I wish this were my true self
but it’s a mirage of my own imagination.
for my rags lay flat against my body, torn and battered
my heart lies inside me completely shattered.
for I am a fraud, a maid, a nobody.
all I want to do is get out of this prison they’ve made for me, and feel the warmth of a human body embracing me.
for my lonely heart can’t take much more, so I wished with all my heart for a miracle to happen.
now here I am, the maid in the golden carriage on the way to the ball
nerves surge through my veins.
but then we lock eyes, and the gaze lasts an eternity, and suddenly I lose all my inhibitions and all I want is to hold you in my arms.
and looking in your forlorn eyes, I think you’ve been as lost and alone as I am.
—  cinderella 👠 // h.w //

(Requested by Anon) I took liberties with the appearance of the reader in this one. Blonde hair, pale skin. Sorry I was thinking of an illustration in a particularly wonderful book I had as a child. If this appearance mentioned is going to bother you then please don’t read on.

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But a few hours later, all of them standing around the cairn, attending a funeral for a stranger…he had looked across the wheelbarrow full of field rock, and he thought that perhaps the end of all things had finally arrived. The ground shifted forward beneath his feet. She was standing there, just several simple strides away from him and his entire body flushed hot wet with a thin sheen of sweat, heart slamming against his ribcage, a sudden wild pain that had him turning slightly and pressing the heel of his hand into his breastbone. He glanced quickly around the circle of faces and no one else had seemed to feel the world shudder to a stop and re-start itself. It had only been him. Or so he thought for a long confusing moment. He looked back across the space that separated them and she was staring at him, in her soft way, all big blue eyes and sunlit hair, her head cocked the slightest bit as though taking his measure. And the confusion translated by her features looked more akin to mysterious than the bafflement that he was feeling. He realized, as their gazes locked for what could have only been seconds, that whatever body blow he had just taken, the impact had come from the fact that she was standing alive in the same world that he was occupying. As though the world itself had broken the hourglass of the sea and the shore and time was no more.
—  Daryl Dixon, the first time he looked at Beth Greene
(from Zagzagael’s ‘Will You Miss Me When I Burn and Will You Eye Me With a Longing’)
don’t tell me you love me

words: 560
prompt: “Don’t tell me you love me.”
requested by: the bae @m-arichat

“Don’t tell me you love me.”

“Why not?”

He sees her through tainted view. Through rose-tinted sunglasses - no, a mask, in fact, but it might as well be. The mask hides her away. It changes her in ways even she can’t understand. But she knows that it isn’t really her that he loves… not the other side of her, anyway. Not Marinette. All because he gazes at her through those rose-tinted sunglasses.

“Don’t tell me you love me.”

Not because she doesn’t love him back, and not because she wishes he didn’t feel that way. No, it’s because she’s seen the way he interacts with other girls. She remembers clearly the way he easily slipped his arm around her waist and called her ‘Princess’ when he met her as Marinette. And the way he effortlessly flirted with Lila when she had been akumatized. The very thought sends shivers down her spine and makes her teeth grit together in jealousy.

Of course, she never sees the other side. She never sees the way Chat acts when she’s not there; she never sees his naivity and the way he’s unsure about how to handle people when she isn’t by his side to support him; she never sees the way he lies awake at night, unable to prevent his thoughts of her from pecking insufferably at his mind.

Since she never sees it, it hardly even creeps into her thoughts.

“Don’t tell me you love me.”

Because of the boy with the soft sunlit hair and the eyes the colour of forests: the subtle green of deep, clear ponds, and the emerald of tree leaves, or of moss on rocks; the essence of spring. The boy who feels like the calm after a storm but also like the rainshower after a heatwave. The boy who makes Marinette’s heart leap and sink almost as if it’s a ship tossed upon a relentless ocean. She can’t stand it when she dips towards the water, but when she’s swept up on a wave again, adrenaline rushes through her and her heart burns with a flaming desire. The desire to feel the same way forever.

And because sometimes, Chat makes her feel that same way. After moments like those, the seas always come to a standstill.

“Don’t tell me you love me.”

It’s because of the fear. The constant knowledge that one day, he could be gone. Because one day he could leave her and she would never know why. Because if Hawk Moth were to know that they have feelings for each other, he could utilise it as his greatest weapon, and there would be no escape. No escape, at least, other than heartbreak, or distance, or worse… or even all three.

Not only that, but the fear for his safety in every battle; how overwhelming she finds it during every fight, and how difficult it’s becoming not to make stupid and irrational decisions for him at every turn. The way she gets distracted by watching him in every attack, and how she sometimes notices him staring back.

They risk their lives enough. There’s no reason for everything to be more dangerous. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself. That’s what she wants to tell him.

“Don’t tell me you love me.”

“Why not?”

because I don’t want to have to let you down.”

Star Cycle

Chapter 1: Supernova

Chapters: 1 // 2 // 

Summary: Stars are formed by clouds of gas and dust, and are bestowed with enough energy to shine brightly and give life for many generations. But when its life ends, everything it lives for must also die. But that doesn’t mean love has to die as well….at least, that’s all according to the really trippy dreams Saitama has been having. And it’s giving him a headache.

Author notes: @cinensis and @stickydoona‘s Eclipse AU is the entirety of my inspiration for this fic because it is just too perfect for me to not write something for it. And it has a bit of a bit of a soul-bonding type twist. If yo can call it a twist. Idk I’m just absolute trash for this AU and I started a new fic instead of working to finish the three other fics I have going. It’s fine. 

You can also read on Ao3!

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So the first time I read something someone wrote about the 1sentence prompts, I was unsure. It seemed a bit hokey, syrupy sweet and even kind of lazy. Instead, the writer completely floored me. Basically what it is- They are one word prompts, and you write a sentence for each one.

What I read was profoundly beautiful, bittersweet, and perfectly captured the all-encompassing love that was my very first ship, a movie I loved as a kid. I’m a bit nervous about this, and can only hope I do a fraction of the tremendous job the other writer did. Be warned, I already have an obsessive love of the semi-colon and will use it liberally, as well as other punctuation marks. PLEASE tell me your thoughts and if I should continue with the next 50 theme set words.

This set is called Alpha.

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☆See no Evil: Muse is Blind

Max had been busy training in the center park like usual when the magic hit him, one minute he was fine, the next he was blind. He stops what he was doing, a scared look on his face as he desprately tries to rub his eyes to get his sight back.☆

Rei hummed happily as he skipped through a park, having just caused a group of mean girls to run off crying after he’d smashed ones cellphone to bits. His skipping ceased as he saw sunlit, blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

He grins and stalks over to his old teammate, placing sharp nails at the boy’s throat from behind.

“Hello~!” He purred in greeting.

we all thirst for beauty

we all thirst for beauty,
but one river cannot wield it
for everyone.

some drink beauty from 
late-night walks,
thinking and whistling
under the winking eye that is
the crescent moon.

some drink beauty from
children’s hands, feet,
giggles and scribbles.

some drink beauty from
a drunken kiss with 
a new lover while lying
sprawled on a mowed lawn
in a stranger’s backyard.

some drink beauty from
waking at six o'clock
in the morning
and brushing their teeth
and combing their hair
and saying hello to their kids,
then going off to work 
at the same job they’ve
worked at for seven years.

some drink beauty from
marrying colors and lines
on a pure white canvas.

some drink beauty from
luring men with their 
open shirts and half-grins
and blossoming red lips.

some drink beauty from
untampered nature, as it
happily unfolds itself in
front of them.

some drink beauty from
going to protests or concerts
or festivals or parades
and getting tangled in the mass
of human bodies and noise.

some drink beauty from
riding horses, feeling
the solid saddle and
movement and strength 
underneath them,
and the wind swim
through their sunlit hair.

others drink beauty
from everything,
and stay drunk
for the rest of their lives.

(Written and submitted by @beautyinyourpocket)