#corawrites

(Heres a lil snippet on how that would look like dont mind my crappy writing skills)

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(After talking for around 30 mins)

“Urgh, my period pains are pretty bad...” Sherwin exclaimed, holding the hot water pack against his lower abdomen.

“Have you drank Ibuprofen yet? That can help with it.” Jonathan suggested

“Oh yea— let me get it-“

“No. You stay here, lay back and continue drinking the herbal tea I made for you. I’ll get it.” Jonathan interrupted, smiling gladly after. He put aside Sherwin’s frog plushy that was previously on his lap that he cuddled while talking to the redhead.

As Jonathan got up, he puts the warm, fuzzy blanket over Sherwin’s lower half of his body, making sure it covers him properly. Putting his frog plushy beside where Sherwin’s back is lying on the stack of pillows.

“Jonathan?” Sherwin quickly caught Jonathan’s attention before he left the room.

“Yes, ‘Win?” Calling Sherwin the cute nickname he picked.

“...Thank you. Thank you so much for doing this for me. You really didn’t have to, you know?” Sherwin spoke as he grabed the cup of tea that was on his night stand.

“I know, but I love you too much to decline. Anything for you, my dear.” Jonathan smiles gently, then closes the door.

(( I needed a place to put my fics other than ff. So. Here.))

Pride: She’s a Summoner, the savior of the world, and she’s proud of it, she really is. But she’s more proud of what’s happened since. The person she’s become. She is now who she always wished she could be; who he told her she could be, all those days and weeks and months ago. She likes to think he’d be proud of her too.

Envy: She wishes she wasn’t, but she’s jealous of them. Of Rikku and her smile, Paine and her easy confidence, Lulu and Wakka and their future family. All things she wants, and doesn’t-can’t- have, because she’s lost the only person whom she’s ever wanted to share them with.

Greed: The freedom she denied herself for so long, the freedom to laugh and scream and cry, to do and dress as she likes, this is what she wants. Maybe it’s too much to ask, but she gave up much for the sake of the world and was willing once to give it all. Why shouldn’t she ask for something in return?

Lust: She had just one taste of love, and she’s never stopped craving more. The memory of a kiss, of gentle caresses under the moon, lights a wistful fire in her belly whenever they come to mind. The only problem is that he was the only one she ever wanted, and always has been. And he’s gone.

Gluttony: Kimahri is the only one who has ever understood the hunger she developed for the scent of water and metal, for the taste of salt and heat. But then, that should make sense. After all, he’s the only one who saw her kiss Tidus.

Sloth: She can’t just lie down and give up, as she’d like to do some days. It’s the one freedom she denies herself since everything changed. She wants to live her life, and she knows he would want that for her too. So she gets up and on with each day, because she can’t but refuse to do otherwise.

((More 7 sins fanfiction drabbles))

Pride: She holds herself together, once he’s gone. She holds Yunie together too, in the aftermath of Tidus’ leaving. She grows up bright and beautiful and strong, because she wants to show him everything he should have stayed to see. She refuses to miss a beat in the dance that life’s playing for her, because that would mean she has to admit to missing him.

Envy: Yunie has a chance. Tidus was a dream, and some dreams come true. But she has no such choice, none at all, because dream and dead are two entirely different things, and while Tidus was taken Auron chose to go, and there is, she’s sure, no calling him back from that.

Greed: Ever since she first donned her Dark Knight armor and held Masamune in her hands, she’s been hungry for more, more relics of a man she’ll never see again. Even after finding his reflection in her Samurai sphere, it isn’t enough. She doesn’t think it ever will be.

Lust: She’s young and enthusiastic and determined not to waste a second of her life pining for a dead man, so she lives to the fullest and takes the opportunities that come her way. She can’t help it, though, if her lips forget what name it is she’s supposed to say.

Gluttony: Her body learned to hold liquor quickly, after he went away; not because she wanted to drown her sorrows, or anything stupid like that, but because he tasted like sake when she kissed him, and since then she’s become enamored of the taste of it on her tongue.

Sloth: She has her lazy days, when she takes life a little slower and just lies on the sand. Those days she stares up at the sky, and wonders if he’s happy, whatever of him remains out there. She understands the need to rest, now and again, but eternity seems too long a nap to take, especially when he could have stayed and relaxed with her.

((Cheritz games are favorites of mine, especially Nameless and Dandelion. I had to write something. Originals belong to Cheritz.))

Eri was taking a shortcut through the alley when they grabbed her. Two thugs slammed her, dazed as she already was, against the brick wall, breath hot on her cheeks and slurred words nonsensicle in her ears. She tried to hunch away, to blend into the wall, but they held her fast, eyes bright with malice. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.

“What are you doing to my honey?” a dulcet voice demanded, dripping condescension, and a moment later, a tall man appeared out of the shadows at the far end of the alley. He was dressed in a well-cut, expensive looking dark suit and a pair of equally expensive sun-glasses. He practically bled sophistication out of every pore, and the single piercing in his left ear and the two short braids arching above it only seemed to add to the effect.

Eri gasped his name, and a strange look flickered across the dark-haired man’s face, a mixture both of relief and worry. The two thugs frowned, and the one not holding onto Eri took a step toward the stranger.

“None of your business, city-boy.”

Eri’s stranger might be all dolled up and reeking of expensive colognes and hair gel, but he was taller than either of Eri’s attackers, and it was obvious to anyone who really bothered to look that the fine cut of his suit hid muscle.

“You really think so?” he asked, still disdainful. “I think,” he was shedding his suit jacket as he spoke, “That anything that happens to my honey is my business.” Draping the jacket elegantly over one arm, he began to roll up the sleeves of his white button-down, the movements of his fingers as sharp and efficient as those of a spider.

“Oh, are you gonna fight us, pretty boy?” the man who held Eri sneered, and Eri repeated the stranger’s name, louder this time.

“Y-Yuri.”

The dark-haired man smiled slightly, and tilted his head just enough for her to see his frost-colored eyes over the tops of his tinted lenses. His voice dropped to a purr, low and seductive and dangerous.

“Close your eyes, princess.”

For a moment, she just met his eyes, tears in her gold ones. Then her chin dropped slightly in a tiny nod, and squeezed her eyes closed.

Yuri moved faster than any man carrying that much height and muscle had any right to be able to move. In a total of three seconds, he’d crossed the alley, and tossed the first of the thugs over his shoulder to land on the pavement with a sickening crunch. One more long stride and he seized the man holding Eri by the collar and jerked him upward. The man yelped, releasing Eri in shock as his feet left the ground, dangling six inches off the pavement thanks to Yuri’s rather impressive height. Eri slid down the wall to the ground, eyes still tight shut.

The second man landed beside his comrade with an equally satisfying thud, and Yuri took up a stance in front of Eri looking almost as suave as when the fight had begun, save that his hair was ruffled by the speed of his movement and his jacket had fallen to the ground when first he moved. He glared down at the men from behind his sunglasses, arms crossed loosely in a manner that said he would deal with them again if he had to, but that he didn’t expect them to be that stupid. He was right. The moment both of them managed to regain their feet, they ran, footsteps pounding unsteadily against the pavement.

Yuri turned his attention to Eri the moment they’d gone, sinking to a crouch in front of her. She was huddled against the wall, knees drawn up and tears streaming from still-closed eyes. He reached out gently and asked, voice silk-soft,

“Did they hurt you?”

She opened her eyes and shook her head, a small, jerky motion. He didn’t seem to believe her, and moved his hand to cup her chin instead, tilting her head slightly to the side as his other hand reached to flip his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. The faint moonlight filtering through the clouds illuminated the faint purple bruises blossoming into existence on her pale skin in the place where her neck and shoulder met, where the men had first grabbed her. Yuri’s lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line.

“Oh, honey,” he whispered, his voice softening further. “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, and she reached up to pat his shoulder, shivering slightly from a mixture of the cold of the night and adrenaline.

“N-not your fault.” She stuttered, and his frown deepened. Carefully, he pulled away, rising briefly to retrieve his jacket, then returned to wrap it around her, pulling it tight around her shoulders.

“We should get you home.” He told her quietly, “Everyone’s been worried.” He didn’t ask if she could stand, just picked her up, cradling her in his arms like the princess he’d called her. Usually, she would have protested, but now she seemed too shaken to do so, and instead she just wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at his face.

“Your hair is messed up.” She told him, almost timidly, and he smiled.