We Love A Writing Blog.

Fics, drabbles, imagines. Ya know, all the good stuff. 

[marblemomohornets]

How it feels to be a transformers fan right now with Transformers One being out in theaters and it’s so good and makes you so happy you could bounce off the walls and you want to consume the movie and insert it into your bloodstream because you are so normal about this movie-

[beebeedibapbeediboop]

Xenokitty

[nacho-joe-yo-deactivated2022012]

Monster fucker this, monster fucker that. What if I want a monster RELATIONSHIP huh?! Monster HAND HOLDING, monster INTIMATE CONVERSATIONS, monster COMFORTABLE SILENCE??

[assassinationtipsforladies]

[whatsorceressisthis]

[welovearitingblog]

If It’s Meant to Be

Damien Haas x Female reader

Warnings: Swearing, angsty breakups, alcohol 

I’m sorry I can’t do this anymore. 

   You toss your head back, dowing your fourth shot. 

Yeah, I think it’s for the best.

  You can still hear the certainty in his voice, see the pain in his eyes. You signal at the bartender. He asks what drink you’d prefer. You tell him it doesn’t matter. The chatter of strangers becomes a dull buzz as he slides you a short glass. The dark liquid sloshes within the cup. You can't bring yourself to touch the glass, waves of emotion engulfing you. Memories of holidays, birthdays, and any special occasion come flooding back; times with this same liquid pouring in your favorite mugs; jokes and conversation; buzzed kisses after "just a little more".

  "It's been months," you huff to yourself, "Why do I miss you?" The bar's dingy atmosphere suddenly becomes overwhelming. You place twenty dollars in front of you, rushing to the door. You shove people out your path as tears begin to blur your vision. You manage to make it to your car in one piece before immediately bursting into hysterical sobs. It feels like hours pass before you calm down. By this point, you've sobered up enough to drive. So you do, but you don't go home.

 It's late, really late. 3:46 in the morning to be exact. He tells himself he needs to stop. To just turn off the game and go to sleep, but he can't. Her high score is still unbeatable and it's driving him insane. 

You do? 

  He can still how vulnerable she looked, with her arms hugging her waist. She was trying to be strong.

Yeah, I do. 

  He lifts a hand to his face. He's crying. He knows he shouldn't be. It's been months. 

I don't think we can figure it out this time.

  Stupid. He still feels so stupid for telling her.

 "I just let her go," he falls back against his couch, hand still at his cheek. He doesn't remember drifting off. 

  You're sitting in front of his apartment. You don't recall driving here. Only shifting the stick into park, looking up, and seeing the familiar building face. You huff, falling back against your seat.   "I'm so stupid," you chant to yourself the entire way up to his door. Your knuckles are inches from the pale wood. "What am I doing?" you quietly ask yourself. 

  The heaving rapping at the door startled him out of his sleep. He groans as he shuffles to the door. He stops mid-turn as realization awakens him. He hurriedly finds his phone, the knocking becoming deafening.   "It's 3:05 what the hell," he mumbles to himself, completely awake. The knocking continues. 

  You're knocking. You know you should turn around. To stop everything and go back to the bar, but you keep knocking. Just as you begin to turn around you hear a voice. His voice. Raspy with sleep and full of uncertainty.   "Who is it?"   You can't speak. You can't even move. Millions of conflicting thoughts race through your mind before you're able to make a sound.   "Damien?"  

 Damien freezes completely. He must be dreaming. That's her voice. Gripping the doorknob with so much force he's surprised it doesn't fly off the hinges, he throws open his door. 

  The door flies open as you're walking away, revealing a distraught Damien. You're terrified to move. Scared he'll realize who you are and shut the door with as much force as he opened it. He doesn't move a muscle. He doesn't even blink. 

  "I'm sorry," she sobs, finally breaking the silence. Damien takes a step forward, pulling her trembling body into his. "I m-messed up. I shouldn't have left. I-I-I miss you," you fall apart in his arms. Tears soaking the front of his T-shirt. He leads you inside, eventually joining you on the plush couch. He hands you a cup of hot chocolate, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You thank him as you sip the soothing liquid. You both sit in consuming silence.   "I missed you too. A lot," he admits. He stares at his hands, picking at his cuticles. You set the warm mug on the table in front of you before reaching across the cavernous space between the two of you. You reach for his hand, intwining your fingers with his. You scoot closer to him as your free hand cups his cheek. He leans into your touch. Your palm catching his tears.   "I shouldn't have let you go so easily," he sighs, "I should've gone after you. Met you at your house and actually talked to you. Or at least anyway but the way I handled it."   "Damien, you did what you thought was right. So did I," you reply, gaining back your ability to speak. He meets your gaze and you finally see how broken he is.   "I was wrong," he whispers as his fingers tighten around yours.  "Me too," your volume is just as hushed as his. With your hand still cradling his cheek, he moves his head to kiss your palm. Your heart soars, realizing just how much you've missed his soft lips. He releases his hand from yours only to move both hands to your neck. His thumbs caress your cheeks as he studies your features. Your hands fall limp into his lap. You don't dare move. Yet again falling apart in Damien's arms.   "Is it okay if I kiss you?" he mumbles, centimeters from your lips.   "Please," as soon as the word leaves your throat his lips are crushing against yours. You desperately clutch handfuls of his shirt. Waves of suppressed emotions flowing between the two of you. He breaks the kiss too early, resting his forehead against yours.  "Stay with me?" You've never heard him sound so vulnerable. You nod.   "I'm not going anywhere." 

[welovearitingblog]

Hey? Your “Coincidences” fic??? Great. A++++++ I need a part 2. Stat. You got talent. ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you thank you thank you😭😭💕💕💕 I appreciate it so much!!

[welovearitingblog]

Coincidences

Damien Haas x reader 

Damien and reader keep meeting in weird coincidences.

Warnings: Unwanted attention, cursing? ( it happens like once)

  “Who comes to a restaurant, sits at the bar, and doesn’ t order a drink?” The stranger’s breath reeks of alcohol. Damien offers a polite, strained smile to the much older woman. He avoids eye contact, looking down into the worn, wooden countertop. The red pleather of her jacket brushes his arm as she inches closer. Smells of perfume and alcohol mix into a nauseating concoction, distracting Damien enough for her to sink her manicured fingernails into his shoulder. 

  “I’m buying you a drink,” her breath humid against the shell of his ear. Fear coils within his muscles, setting his body rigid. He whips his head around, fully prepared to excuse himself to the bathroom in order to escape. Just as he begins to stand up, your arm drapes along both shoulders.

Your hand laying on top of the aggressor’s. She looks between you and Damien. 

  “Hey honey, you ready to go?” you ask him. He offers a large smile to you, hoping its believable. He finds you to be another woman, your (e/c) reassuring him of your help. Your bright smile seems genuine. The older woman seems to buy the act. She yanks her hand away from his shoulder. He can feel his skin throbbing from her grip. 

  He nods before clearing his throat, “Yes love, let’s go.” Once he slides off the barstool, your arm wraps around his waist. You glare at the now defeated woman as he lays his arm around your shoulders. 

  “Thank you,” Damien whispers as you both leave the restaurant. You walk him to his car, insistent on making sure he’s safe. You look back at the restaurant, making sure the woman wasn’t following him. “I’m Damien,” he offers his hand. 

  “Nice to save you, Damien, I’m (Y/N),” you smile as you shake his hand. 

  He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you again for that, really.” 

  “Anytime. It's not every day you get to scare off a cougar,” he laughs as he unlocks his car. He thanks you for the third time before leaving. Your smile follows you from there all the way home. 

  The next morning you awake on your own. Your blissful awakening vanishes once you check the time. You’re late for work. Quickly, you throw on the first outfit you see. You shove a bagel in your mouth as you race out your front door, slamming right into someone. 

  “I’m so sorry. I’m in a hurry and I wasn’t paying attention,” you ramble, your bagel long gone. The person laughs heartily. 

  “Don’t worry ab- wait I know you!” they exclaim. You look up at the man, taking a second to recognize him. 

  “Damien?!”

  “Yeah! (Y/N) right?” you nod. 

  “What are you doing here?” you ask in awe. 

  “I just moved in,” he points to the door next to yours, “and it looks like we’re neighbors.” 

 Your jaw goes slack with disbelief before you remember where you’re supposed to be. “I’d love to stay and chat but I’m late for work,” you explain quickly as you begin to walk away. He gives you a thumbs up.

  “(Y/N)! Late again!” your friend Noah greets as you both walk to your makeup room. 

  “And on a shoot day,” you huff as he sits. You finish his makeup as quickly as possible. As he leaves your space, one of your managers walks in. 

  “(Y/N), I need you to give our new guy a tour of the office,” he nods his head towards the door behind him, “he’ll be with games most of the time.” You nod before following him out the door. 

  “No flipping way,” you turn to the voice. The voice of the new guy. The same voice that thanked you three times in one night and laughed when you body-slammed him.

  “Damien?” you almost pinch yourself. 

  “That’s one hell of a coincidence,” he amuses. 

  “Good you two already know each other. Have fun, welcome, I have to go,” your manager cuts in before scurrying out the room. You and Damien look back at each other. After what feels like an eternity he laughs. 

  “I’d love to stand here and stare at you all day, but I need to know where my desk is,” he smiles. Your face heats and you return his smile. 

  “Y-yeah, yeah welcome to Smosh.”

[welovearitingblog]

Hello

I’m going to write things. Probably very, very, incredibly infrequent, but I’m going to write. Thank you.