#// was originally just gonna make it a standalone drabble

[knighteclipsed]

6. A turning point in their life

memories. (no longer accepting)

Two years to the day.

He doesn’t know why he’s keeping track. (Really, he shouldn’t.) Each day that passed was a reminder—of what he had and what he lost, his zenith and his descent. It could only be a bitter thought, but he counts all the same.

Where was he now anyway? (He hadn’t wondered that for a while.) That didn’t really matter either—so long as it wasn’t Grado, he would bear no consequence. (So long as it wasn’t Grado, he was far away from home.) He never dwelt anywhere for more than a week anyway; it was very possible that he was as far as Frelia now, or even Carcino; or perhaps he’d already wandered south again, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up with another charge.

What difference would that make? He already had a running list of all that he’d done wrong—faces that would vaguely recognize him as the ex-general of the Grado Empire–

“Excuse me, sir.”

He doesn’t react at first, merely taking the words to be part of the din of the marketplace. It was hardly unheard of for salespeople and merchants to call for the attention of passersby; even before joining the army, he knew to ignore them for peace of mind.

“Sir?”

It was with the voice directly at his side—not some vague call for any but directly for him—that Valter at last turned his gaze; and there is something distantly familiar about the face he sees, the way it’s shaped and the features it bears. They have never met before, he knows, but there is a light familiarity to it all the same.

“ Yes? ”

Recognizing he has his attention, the man clears his throat and then continues:

“Might you be Valter Avci? Of the Empire of Grado?”

The Mo– Valter’s eyes narrow. (He does not share his last name so easily.) The other man stands a bit straighter in response, clearly unnerved by the hunter’s gaze.

“I was asked by His Majesty to deliver this to you,” and he produces an envelope, neatly closed, the wax seal of the emperor holding it shut. Valter takes it, looks at it closely, and then accepts it—

This is real.

“ Did he send a message alongside it? ”

“No, sir. Just the letter.”

The marketplace is too loud—too open—for such a thing. Already, it was remarkable that he might be addressed here—but given the casual nature of their encounter, the way both of them seem completely belonging to the space, Valter could not fault the method. (He would be untraceable otherwise.)

The letter is done away with, stored safely for a quieter place in which it could be read.

“ If that is all, I have no questions. You are free to return. ” The messenger nods, understanding, before disappearing into the crowd. Valter’s inner thoughts resume:

A message from the crown, hm? (A dark part of him wonders if it is to lighten exile into execution.)

But that is put off until nightfall, when Valter opens the letter at last. It is in silence and seclusion, with no chance of being overheard—and with the contents therein, that could only be for the best. (It must be dire, he thinks, if his services were so desired.)

It was a game, of course, as to whether the letter’s contents could be trusted—if so, then this could only be the start of his true zenith; if not, then to abide would be marching to his grave.

But what was another slight? (It was better than waiting for nothing to happen, to live each day without purpose, merely awaiting an end.) His identity is unknown here, and he would not let it be discovered.

The letter is burned—but only after its contents are charred into his memory. To make certain every stroke of ink was permanently ingrained into his memory, such that he could recite it at will if necessary, could discern it from a fake or copy. No thief or spy would know he was pardoned, but he—and the emperor, as it stood at present—would.

This was a turning point—he was certain. (It could only be.) A part of him grows brighter, a searing flame, a reflection of the sun.

And the world would burn.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Repentance

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

('Burn' gifs are limited and this was hotter. Sue me.)

Summery: You know the phrase 'sleeping angels?' Yeah, not in this fucking house. Pretty soon it's gonna be you or him, but Billy may have a trick or two up his sleeve to provide a happy ending for you both

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specified genitals for Reader, prequel/standalone fic for 'My Ghost' but not required reading to enjoy this fic, ('My Ghost' may even be enhanced if you read this first, I'll be fr.) Porn with plot (if you are only here for plot, the porn is only in the second half and is easily skippable), snoring, Reader is sleep deprived, non-serious threats of violence, mentions of gun violence, banter, make-up sex, drug usage/alcohol consumption, Dom!Billy, Sub!Reader, Reader goes mostly non-verbal after smoking but their thoughts don't, dumbification, Reader gets spoiled and folds like a lawn chair me too bitch me too, massage turning into sex, doggy style, Reader gets that good dick that knocks their head into a wall, vocal! Billy, dirty talk/talking through it, pet names, possessive sex, mentions of wet dreams, happy ending for everyone :)

Other Works in This Series: 'My Ghost' (Original) • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble and it was not gonna contain smut. What can I say, when the holy spirit of a short man with big brown eyes compels you, you compel him into your bitch. Anyways, this was inspired by this headcanon written by @g0ry0re0! So if you liked this fic, please thank her as well in the comments and go support her works because this wouldn't exist without it!! They're a fucking great writer as well.

                            -¤°》◇《°¤-

Have you ever killed a man?

I might.

Listen, I'm not a bitch. I'm not unreasonable even though that was a hell of an opening statement. But if you'd dealt with the shit I've put up with for the past few nights, you would understand.

How can a man who's not even that fucking large in stature make such noise? What the fuck is wrong with him?

I kick him to try and hit a reset button. It works for five minutes, which is long enough for me to begin to relax again. Right before his snoring revs up like the engine of that bike he loves parked on our front lawn. Maybe I'll run him over with it. Be poetic, take him out with his own weapon. Don't the reports show just how deadly motorcycles are compared to regular cars? It's bad for your health.

Okay, I'm assuming that bit because I'm tired, I'm cold, and Billy won't shut the fuck up. It was a little cute when he was just spending the night and we were hardly sleeping. But now that he actually lives here?

Kick. Stop. Wait. Snore.

Goddammit.

Billy has the fucking audacity to greet me with a smile this morning. Sitting at my fucking table, smoking from the ashtray I fucking made him. He should be ashamed to look so good with no shirt on, displaying his chest hair for the whole neighborhood to see as he sits near the open window with coffee set in front of him like he owns the damn place.

"Morning beautiful," he says with a smile. What fucking nerve does he have to sit there and act so happy about while I hate him?

"You snore," I growl. His eyebrows shoot into the air, this son of a bitch has the nerve to widen his smile.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said you fucking snore," I repeat.

"Don't think I've heard that complaint before," he says, shifting in his seat to look at me better. I don't like the way he looks in those sweatpants, grey and hugging the wrong areas for my attitude.

"You haven't dated anyone long enough for someone to complain about it," I mutter under my breath. His eyes focus on the oversized shirt I wear that alright, maybe I stole from the drawer I stash his things in that I now claim as mine. We live together, it's inevitable, fucking fight me. Watching me as I walk into the kitchen, taking the coffee pot off the dock and pouring some into my cup.

"Something I can do to make up for it, shirt thief?" He asks, leaning back in his seat and manspreading, his hands on his horribly thick thighs. "I was wondering where that one went," he mutters to himself, amused.

"Yeah. See a fucking doctor."

It's day five. I'm genuinely considering homicide.

Dear God, or Allah, or whoever you are. If I shouldn't suffocate this man, give me a sign.

...does the short snore that escapes Billy's mouth count?

It doesn't matter what I do. If I turn him onto his side, if I kick him, if I shove ear buds in and blast whatever music I can sleep to at max volume, he's louder and I'm on my last straw. It's him or me.

"William," I say, poking my head up from the old pillow.

No response.

Maybe it's safe.

Maybe he's dead.

Maybe he'll stay quiet.

I lay my head down once more.

"...what?"

"You fucking snore."

"I'm sorry baby," he slurs in half baked consciousness, turning to wrap his arm around my waist as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the back of my neck. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Yeah, let me sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak."

I am weak. I am very, very weak.

"Put your dick away."

"It isn't out."

"I can still feel it."

With a grumble and his face buried in my hair, he abandons his quest in favor of returning to whatever dreams make him keep me up at night. And I am so close to joining him when he starts back up hardly two minutes later. Right in my ear.

With a final huff, I tear the blanket off of him and stomp my bleary eyed way to the living room. Fucker is too sleepy to even notice. Fuck him.

I'm not amused when I wake up in the ungodly hours of the morning sprawled on the couch, Billy's foot in my face as early morning light peaks through the shitty blinds.

"You followed me," I groan, my voice rough with sleep.

"I followed blanket," he slurs.

"It's mine."

"I was cold."

"You snore."

"I've offered consolation, you should take it."

"William, have you ever shot a man?" I ask, bolting upright as I wipe the crust from my eyes.

"Fucking what?"

"Have you ever shot a man?" I repeat slowly, properly enunciating each word.

Billy's eyes dart to the side, then back to me, wide but still tinted from sleep.

"...no?"

"I've considered it," I tell him. "There's a gun in my nightstand. And if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to use it. I haven't before, but I can't imagine it's hard."

Billy presses his lips together in a thin line, knowing I'm not serious but that I'm on the last straw.

"... should I go back to bed?"

"I can go back to bed," I say. "You can stay on the couch."

"That's a great idea."

"I'll take the blanket."

"You do that."

It's only two hours later when I'm woken by the alarm, and the smell of sausage is fresh on the air. Even if it was short, the sleep in solitude feels refreshing, no interruptions from Yellowstone volcano on the other side.

When I wander into the kitchen he's in the midst of finishing his preparations for a feast. And by feast I mean a fuck load of eggs with sriracha on top and plenty of sausages to go with it. There's also a pile of toast, the bottle of homemade cinnamon sugar next to the stick of butter besides it.

"Morning beautiful," Billy tries carefully, eyeing me as I lean against the hallway doorframe. "Coffee's on the table."

Whatever I said earlier- which may or may not be blurry to me at this point -has clearly changed his attitude. He's even set out the hazellenut creamer for me, a treat.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks, setting a heaping plate in front of me. I don't know how to tell him I'm too sleepy to eat.

"Better," I say. I take a slice of cinnamon covered toast, trying to convince my stomach to wake up. "Kinda cold, though."

He smiles softly at that, setting down his own plate to join me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I return the smile, taking a small bite of the corner of my toast. He takes a sip of coffee and brushes his foot against mine under the table. The silence is sweet, apart from the radio just ever so quietly playing in the background to add to the calm morning atmosphere Billy has created for me. His hair is ruffled from sleep, his hand nervously fiddling with the thin chain around his neck. He glances at me, smiles apprehensively, then breaks the silence.

"Do you actually own a gun?" He asks, trying so hard to sound casual.

My brows furrow before I realize what he's referencing, letting out a loud laugh and almost dropping my toast in the process.

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Billy," I laugh, trying so hard to maintain my composure.

"Last night you called me William. I did not like that," he laughs nervously.

"William, I will not shoot you."

"My mother calls me that, I don't want you and my mom calling me the same name."

"Willy-"

"Fuck you," he groans, laughing. "You're terrifying."

"When I don't sleep," I add for him. He nods, eyes wide and brows raising in agreement. "Did you seriously make breakfast because you were worried I owned a gun?"

"When you meet the devil, you meet demands," he says. I kick at his foot playfully, giggling.

"The devil doesn't really eat breakfast."

"I know, I packed lunch too."

Fuck free will, I should've done the gun thing a long time ago. When I walk back into the ramshack house that evening fresh off my shift, Billy has dinner, a bowl and a bath prepared for me upon my return.

"I did not take your comments seriously and I'm sorry," he says genuinely, taking my coat. "I should have and you have suffered. Consider this repentance."

"Repentance is nice. You hide the gun too while you were at it?" I ask.

"I'm not answering that."

Billy may be many things, and a cook is one of them. It's simple, fresh, and nice after a long day. The backrub I'm getting while I eat makes the flavors even sweeter.

"I feel an urge to clarify my threat was not serious," I joke between bites, taking a sip of the wine Billy had run out and gotten special for the night.

"I'm well aware, but this is overdue anyways," he says softly. "You're mine and you deserve nice nights." He presses a warm kiss to the spot just under my ear, making me blush. "My baby needs spoiled."

"Well, I certainly feel spoiled," I say contently, finishing the last bite. I lean back in my chair, letting him explore my neck as his gentle hands work their way through my many knots, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all the while.

"Wait until I tell you what kinds of oils I slipped in your bath as well," he whispers in my ear.

If this is repentance, he should snore more often.

I'm stoned, zoned, and completely naked across the bed as Billy carefully massages my legs, phone propped on a spare pillow beside my head as I stare blankly at the show in front of me.

His hands are slick with oil, gliding across my skin with ease as he works at a knot on the back of my calf.

"I've been ignoring you too much," he muses, his voice soft and loving as his thumbs work in small circles. "You're much too tense for my taste."

I am too stupid to respond with English. I will tell him later about the day I've had at work, running around for fifteen different customers and a boss I can hardly stand. But for now a low moan will do, my mind too blurry from substance use and the stimulation that makes me dizzy with want.

"Does that feel good?" Billy asks, pressing a small kiss against my shin. I moan again, eyes fluttering shut. "Wanna make sure my baby sleeps well tonight."

Oh, I'll sleep phenomenally.

His hands abandon me, searching for the bottle of lavender scented oil, coating his hands before reaching for the back of my thighs, right below the curve of my ass.

"How's the show?" He asks me, digging deeply into my tissue in a way that makes me moan, arching my back subconsciously as the stimulation takes over my thoughts. "That good?" He asks, voice deep as he chuckles.

"Very good," I confirm, my voice soft against the freshly washed bedsheets. I have never said a bad thing about this man. I would never curse the provider of relaxation. Any claims otherwise are false and slandering against me and my man.

"You're grinding against the bed, you realize that, right?" Billy asks bemused, his thumbs drawing deep circles against the inside of my thighs, making me gasp in want. "There something else you want?"

Whatever strain he has given me has made me nonverbal, but the squeak I let out is answer enough. For me, anyways.

"I need words, baby. Words. Vague noises are not consent," he says softly.

"Motherfucker that noise was not vague," I snap, lifting my head up briefly before resuming my mindless appreciation against the bed. Billy's laugh echoes throughout the room, his hand lightly smacking my ass before reaching for the small towel and bottle of lube on the nightstand, wiping off his hands before squeezing a generous dollop onto two digits.

His fingers press against my entrance slowly, coating it with the thick, cold lube, making me squirm and gasp against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"I'm gonna start off slow, okay baby?" He says gently, still stroking my entrance as he positions himself above me. "You let me know if you want me to change something."

I moan in understanding, but it's not enough for him. His voice is low and rumbling by my ear, his lips teasing at my shoulder.

"Say yes if you understand," he says softly, breath hot against my ear.

"Yes," I say just as soft.

"Good," he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. "Good baby."

His cock slowly sinks inside of me, the pot from earlier making the sensations deeper and more vibrant as I feel the sweet stretch even at the top of my head. Billy moves slow, taking his time to enter me as though we had all the time in the world. I can't help but pant against the bed, whining for more intelligibly as Billy sheethes himself to the hilt, pressing himself against my g-spot just perfectly at this angle, no real effort needed when I'm like this. My eyes roll at the touch, my hips bucking in uneven, stupid rhythms against him as he remains still inside of me. Fuck it, he could snore in my ear right now and I'd let him.

Billy's voice is breathy, moaning as he brushes my hair with his hand. "Let me know when you want me to move," he moans in my ear.

"I am," I whine. "Fuck me."

He chuckles against me, his voice rough as he continues in a slow, even rhythm. "You don't want to go slow first?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my spine as he slowly slides against my spot again, his cock making me clench tightly around him.

"Uh uh," I moan, still trying to buck rapidly against him. "Want more."

"You usually get so overstimulated if I start fast at this angle," he teases, ignoring the pace of my hips in favor of his. "Can't even finish fucking you if I start out fast, you're so sensitive by the end."

That's a lie. Terrible lie. Slander.

"Do you really want me to go fast?" He asks softly, one hand finding my hip to guide me to a better rhythm.

"Motherfucker, yes," I whine, lifting my head. He chuckles, much to my annoyance. "Fuck me like you own me."

At that he grabs my hips, slamming me against his base before he begins to violently abuse my hole, fucking directly into my g-spot and never missing once as he fucks me hard enough to make the bed slam into the wall, making a painting rattle on the wall behind us.

"Jesus- fuck- wait!" I cry, my hips subconsciously trying to escape his abuse while I clench around him, silently begging for more.

He slows his pace once more, pressing such soft, sweet kisses to my spine as he speaks. "See? You can't handle it like that. You're half fucked out already and that wasn't even five seconds."

He's absolutely right and I should listen to him more. How wise is my man.

"If I was really fucking you like I owned you," he says lowly between slow, long thrusts, his hands guiding my hips gently as I whimper with each move like the bitch I am. "I'd pick the pace. But here you are, telling me what to do and changing your mind the moment I give it to you. So indecisive is my baby." Very indecisive. Go fast again. "And I'll do whatever you want like a good man should."

I will stay home with the kids. I will scrub my permanently stained linoleum floor until it shines like the top of the Chrysler building. I will spend my days barefoot and pregnant if he so requests of me. In Jesus's name, Amen.

Billy moves slow and purposefully against me, grinding his cock and moaning in my ear while he watches me, smacking my ass here and there when he wants to watch it bounce against his hips.

"So pretty," he moans. "Even prettier when you cum. Is there something I can do to help?"

I whine against the bed, feeling edged and whoreish with his thick dick pulsing inside of me, fucking me into blind submission and making me willing to do anything he says.

"Would someone like for me to go faster?" He coos sweetly, slightly speeding up his tempo as he slams more gently into my spot. "Does my baby wanna get fucked?"

I nod stupidly, whining and huffing as he slowly continues to gain speed.

"You gonna cum around me? Take my cock real nice and fast?" He asks, smacking my ass once more. I clench upon impact, making him do it again and again until he laughs.

"Cum in me," I moan. All care has been thrown out the window, my head scrambled and vision blind.

"Yeah? You want that?" He teases. His balls smack loudly against my front, offering additional stimulation and making my eyes roll. "Looks like you're drooling over it." Motherfucker I am, and?

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you sleep for days, sweetheart," he moans in my ear, slamming into me hard enough to make me squeal. "Kept dreaming about you for the past week. Kept getting all nice and hard only to have you wake me up before I could fuck you. Come to find out I was keeping my poor baby up, being my own cockblock."

His cock pistons in and out of me at impressive speed, one of his hands slamming against the bars of the metal headboard to offer him stability while he fucks me, the bed ramming against the wall so loudly it's all I can hear besides him. I think the painting fell.

"Now we can both sleep better at night. My balls empty, your ass nice and full. Think I'll do it again tomorrow," he muses, slamming me against the bed, pushing me higher. "And again." And higher. "And again." Until the top of my head pounds against the ceiling. "Till the fucken cows come home."

Moo, bitch. Moo.

With a pathetic scream, hardly able to make any noise due to the violent climax, I cry his name as I clench around him. His dick pounds my head into the wall absuively as he chants my name like it's the only word ever known to him, his voice raising in volume until he's shouting it so clear it raises above the rocking of the bed, loud enough surely for the neighbors to hear. I'm hardly even aware of when he cums, or really anything at this point, his dick pulsing within me and fucking his admittedly larger than usual load into me so deep you'd think there'd be no chance of it to escape. I'm only aware he came when his cock finally softens, our cum dripping and pooling underneath of me in a mixed puddle when he slips out with a small whimper, his breath so heavy and wheezing I'm almost scared he'll pass out on top of me.

"Wanna go again?" He jokes, his voice worryingly pathetic as he tries to laugh, sounding more like a death rattle than anything. All I respond with is a shaky thumbs down, my head spinning from the possible concussion I may genuinely have.

It's an effective sleep method. Works wonders for both of us.

                              ▪︎》◇《▪︎

After he slips out of the house one winter morning with my gun tucked in the back of his jeans, I can't tell you how much I'd give to hear him snore against our lavender scented bed one last time, feeling his arms that are now ash and bones on the floor of a gas station just outside of town. My only company now being his ghost echoing his bright laughter down the darkened halls of what was once our home.

You like my ending bbgirl? Special just for youuu.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

Masterlist

[pinkiepiebones]

Oh! I thought of a real question! You mentioned of course that these Ghouls do not have any form of naturally occurring organs (other than arguably skin, some people call that one, but does it really count as that or is that just the easiest word to use for it?), but there is mention of them forming rudimentary ones, and presumably more complex with practice, so the question is: Do they work? Or rather, I guess, how MUCH do they work? When one develops something resembling lungs, for funzies, do they get anything out of smoking or vaping? The ones who learn to eat things, if they get ahold of something all sugar, will they get all sugar-rushy? Just for a couple examples. Or is it more just performative?

Also, one for you, are you specifically a fandom writer? Or do you/have you considered drabbling in original content? I know a lot of people strongly prefer one over the other to the point they only do one, but some do both, and I could see these little imps being able to work well as a standalone thing if you ever wanted to play with them outside their lore environment.

Eeeeee thank you for asking about the inner machinations of my ghouls~ Gonna throw this under a cut, lots of talk of organs and eating and stuff CW

So basically aside from Special, no ghoul's ever made anything more than the most simplistic fabrications of various organs, because basically what is the point. I don't know why anyone would need a church ghoul to pretend to breathe, but the affect is achieved by the ghoul forming what might be thought of as a "straw," a tube connecting a simplistic "mouth" to an inner pocket in which air can be stored and expelled. The air is expelled when the ghoul rapidly closes the pocket that had been created. No musculature required!

The band ghouls, they've gotten more complex in their glamours. They've had to study extensively on forming jaws and teeth and tongues (Spesh still regrets showing them how to make tongues) and vocal chords- in my head for the vocal chords I've always pictured them sort of forming an empty space in their necks and, with some effort, making thin lines of, well, ghoul material? Zig-zag across that empty space... somehow, forcing their telepathic speech down from their minds onto that mesh of "chords" causes the telepathy to "bounce" outwards in more of a soundwave form, thus allowing them to provide backup vocals. But, back to their mouths. Spesh had to train them on foods, mostly how to tell an edible thing from inedible (the smaller Air Ghoul had decided anything it could sink it's teeth into was "edible" and there was a spate of biting incidents...), how to look like you're chewing, and forming a "pocket" within your being to hold on to foodstuffs until it could safely be "barfed out" (what Spesh calls "barfing" for ghouls is much more akin to upending a bag over a trash can- ghouls don't produce saliva or digestive enzymes and of course have no stomach acid so they just spit out, like, mashed up banana or finely ground pretzel dusts or flat beer...). Food itself has no effect on ghouls due to their lack of any systems; there's no risk of an overly-caffeinated ghoul running laps around interiour of a spire.

Spesh discovered he can get high. Well, I suppose it's the ghoul equivalent thereof. It might be a Special thing, or it might work on all ghouls, we just don't know. But Special found years ago that catnip- no, really!- makes him, in his words, "wiggly." He loses his grip on any glamour he's got activated and giggles a lot and just wants to curl up in a sunbeam or something. When he was studying the various inner workings of human anatomy back when he began his venture as spokesghoul he did actually form some pretty advanced lungs- not merely pockets to hold and expel air, he managed to focus and shapeshift within the lungs a sticky membrane that could seep the narcotic component of inhalants into his ghoul being. He absolutely learned how to do this so he could get proper high with Copia. Special smokes catnip. Whatever is in catnip that fucks him up gets much more potent when inhaled, and his shapeshifted lungs having those membranes to seep that "fuck me up" chemical from the smoke directly into his body gets him royally stoned. He doesn't experience "munchies" but sometimes his physical form will forget that it has to be quite so solid and his body takes on what one might call a "solid gelatinous" state, I guess? Like, if you were to embrace a royally stoned Special, it might feel less like hugging a warm mannequin and more like hugging a warm mannequin that is also unnervingly full of a very firm pudding. He cannot ever "melt" but Copia has anxiety about smoking with Spesh nowadays because of that very fear.

!!!! Honestly???? I thank you so much for that ringing endorsement! I have for a while now been thinking of this, actually. I've spent so long shaping my own personal vision of these ghouls that, while they are surely inspired by Ghost, they are enough of a cool thing without knowledge of Ghost, and if I could just find a word like "ghoul" to use for them... I can totally see myself pulling a "write X fic, change names, send manuscript to publishers as Y work" sorts scheme... I mean, I like my ghouls, and you like my ghouls, that's at least two paying customers right there!!! XD

[meltwonu]

THEIF|HEIST / DOUBLE DIP / UNTIL I MET YOU INBOX

[double dip]

😌💕 because yall already KNOW its coming so u dont need a teaser for that mwah~ 😜 

they won't feed us so I will LMAO kjfhkjhgkjh SOMEONES GOTTA DO IT AND ITS GONNA BE ME BABY 😈 [me getting banned from weverse when they find my IP address] 

YES IM SO EXCITED FOR SEOKJINXREADERXSEUNGKWAN! Also I wanted to test different pairings for this collection of fics bc I mean,,, there's 20 lovely candidates and there's def gonna be some obvious pairings but I also wanna dip into some that maybe I never considered before too!! Jeonghan and Jungkook would be an interesting combo 😳

[theif|heist]

yes! so basically for those who havent searched back yet, in my original au that I came up with in like 5 seconds, reader is under the same ‘gang’ as jeonghan! originally it was going to be like,,, actual plot/storyline but ive just decided to do standalone fics in the same au to make it easier on myself!! 😗💕 and also same, that goes for any of them LOLLL

THANK YOUUU 🥺💕 I really wanted to expand on some of the drabbles I did like nipple piercing woozi and honestly the draft for t|h has been sitting for like 2?3? months its so weird to have it out of my drafts 🤣 but im soooo excited! 

[Until I Met You]

THANK YALL SO MUCH OMG I LOVE U TOO 🥺💕 I KNOW ITS BEEN A LONG TIME COMING!! I’ve been drafting the storyline for this for a WHILE now and im so excited to finally have the intro post up!! I know it’ll be short but 💕💕💕 I hope yall enjoy~ 

[intim3ate]

Update?

I know I’ve been pretty silent on the fic-writing front lately. In that I haven’t, uh, posted anything at all since December. I feel like I’m lagging behind my usual standard with posting things. But if you’re worried about there being NO content at all, then fear not! I have been writing, it’s just that most of the stuff that’s taken up my focus for the last few weeks has been on commissions, gifts, and a zine project. Oddly enough, only one of these things is a fanfic!

That’s right! I’ve been working on some original stuff, including some short stories with some friends’ OCs. I haven’t asked permission to publish these, but maybe one day they’ll see the light of tumblr/AO3. We’ll see! And the zine project... I’ll keep you guys posted, but I think it’s gonna be fun! If you like wizards, this might be a zine for you to check out.

That aside, another reason I haven’t posted anything for a few weeks has been that I experienced a weird sort of burnout with a handful of characters. I was getting into certain headspaces so frequently for such weird amounts of time that I wasn’t totally sure I was writing the character or just making shit up. So I took a short break to work on stuff featuring other characters, and now that I’ve settled into a better rhythm, I’m ready to get back to work on more of my usual fare. :) 

That said, you can expect a fic or two in the next day or so. Nothing long or extravagant, but enough to hold you over until the real juicy stuff gets done (I hope!).

I make it a personal goal of mine to publish at least one standalone fanfic per month. This does NOT include chapters of a longer work (like Woven Together) or stuff that goes into compilations/collections (like my drabble collections). So even if I may seem slow at times, you can all bank on that as a bare minimum. I’ve managed to do it for the last two years, and I don’t expect 2019 to be any different!

I will be working a lot more on original content this year, and hopefully will be able to get myself a proper job in writing. If that happens, then I’ll probably slow down on the fanfic front... but at the very least, I will be making time to post at least one short standalone fic every month. Which may or may not be related to the patreon I plan to open sometime this year??? We’ll see!

Thanks so much for sticking with me, guys. It’s always a blast writing for you. Can’t wait to keep it up in 2019!

[shadowsong26fic]

Sup

It occurs to me that I keep forgetting to do Coming Attractions posts, whoops...will try to remember for August, but here’s an informal one while I’m thinking about it.

Behind the cut I talk Precipice, AU Outlines, and a few other miscellaneous projects I have potentially in the pipeline...

Next Precipice chapter--plan is this weekend at some point. More with Saw and Ahsoka and Rex and also there was a whole, y’know, bombing thing that happened on Coruscant, and certain interested parties probably have Opinions on the subject...

Not 100% sure how long this arc is going to be. I’m shooting for I think ten-twelve chapters? So not an uberlong one like Part 4 was.

After this, there will be the as-yet untitled Part 7, which will take place after a three-year timeskip. Among other fun plot points, Leia has a key milestone to meet...

Following Part 7, right now the game plan is to split off into a second fic/sequel, working title Protectors, the first arc of which will (probably) be called Escalation. There’s a couple reasons for this.

There’s a much longer timeskip in play here; six years.

If you’re counting my timeline, you can probably guess where that’ll take us and ergo reason 2.

Also, this fic is...like, super a whole lot longer than I ever thought it would be???? It would not surprise me if the rest of Reunion plus Part 7 brings me to 200k. I’m not going to specifically aim for that, necessarily, but. You know.

My original goal, back in January, was to be done with Arc 7 by the end of August. That’s...that’s pretty clearly not gonna happen at this point (updates have been much slower than planned, plus I’ll be travelling for a few weeks...) But I should be done by the end of the year, and then on to Protectors!

AU outlines--I have a couple in the pipeline.

Let’s Go Steal a Crossover background went up...heh, like two months ago whoops...I keep getting stuck on who to sic them on, though. Everyone I can think of is either too important or dead or both...

...honestly, part of me is just tempted to, rather than a full-on Outline, do a couple of brief vignettes/drabbles so I don’t have to pick that right away and I can get out some of the stuff I already have in mind. I.e., the two teams crashing into one another...IDK, thoughts?

The California Gold Rush/Mask of Zorro Fusion AU No One One Person Asked For. Because the only way to make the PT Trio Even MORE Extra(tm) is by making them straight-up masked vigilantes in 1840s California.

(This will, incidentally, end in an Anakin-centered vee.)

At some point I’ll probably update Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience.

I feel a little weird calling this next bit One Shots, but...standalones! That’s the thing I’m looking for!

I’m going to do Big Bang again next year, and so I’m not scrambling to finish in the last week of April, I want to try and start ahead of time? Back when I was in SPN fandom, I did that for a couple BB projects and it worked out pretty well.

(Especially for The Promises of Angels, aka my 100k epic about a tertiary character who had, at the time, been dead for five seasons...I ended up writing that one over the course of like a full year.)

Anyway, I’m toying with a couple of different ideas. All of which I plan to write at some point, I just don’t know when...big bangs tend to be good for me, in terms of finishing projects that I would otherwise drag on and on and on...

(i.e., if I had done the sensible thing and waited to find a big bang for it, I probably would’ve finished Distaff ages ago, lol...)

At some point, whether for a challenge or something else, I plan to turn Bail Unfucks the Timeline into a proper fic.

I’ve also been toying with a Thing about Satine and Bo-Katan.

And there was a prompt that I considered for last year’s BB that I ended up rejecting because whodunits are not in my wheelhouse, but it involved poking at a timeline inconsistency and Sabe and Padme investigating a murder together shortly before ROTS.

Also trying to do some original writing over the next couple weeks, which may or may not show up here, we’ll see.

...that about sums it up, I think. Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Prompts? What’s on your minds?

[alphameral]

Drabble; Greasy Hair, Don't Care (Liam x Gf!Reader)

Title: Greasy Hair, Don't Care 

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x Girlfriend!Reader

Word Count: 919

NOTE: THIS IS PLOTLESS. Also, this was originally a part of my other fic series (not uploaded here), but I decided to post it as a standalone imagine. A few things to note:

• The girlfriend is an alpha to another pack. She had graduated from school. I'll leave her age to your imagination. She could be older, or she could be a genius who graduated early.

• Liam comes to her place so often he's practically living there.

• Y/N - Your Name.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Liam hadn't been sleeping well for two days, and it was taking a toll on him.

Physically, he felt like he had been hit by a bus, then ran over by a few cars. Mentally, he didn't even know his name.

And needless to say, his mind certainly didn't register whatever the heck his girlfriend was babbling about the moment he stepped into her room. He tuned her out as soon as he plopped onto the bed, feeling his body practically melted into the soft mattress. Y/N's voice sounded like a faded echo in the background, and if only she wasn't going off about his hair, Liam thought the sound might actually be quite comforting.

Wait, was she talking about his hair?

"Liam Anthony Dunbar..." She started, and Liam immediately didn't like where things were going. It was never a good thing when your girlfriend called you by your full name. When Y/N called someone by their full name, she meant business.

And Liam silently hoped that whatever business it was, it won't involve him getting out of the bed. Because dear lord, he was on the brink of life and death. 

Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerating. But point blank, Liam Dunbar did not want to leave the bed.

"Liam." She repeated, this time putting her gaming console down and tearing her eyes away from the TV to face him. "If you won't do anything about that pile off greasy ass thing on your head you called hair, I swear to god you're gonna be bald tomorrow."

Hearing that he didn't actually need to get out of bed at the moment, Liam internally sighed in relief. But he groaned on the outside, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it onto his face to completely block her out. Seriously, he was tired and sleepy and he just wanted to sleep. Who the hell cared about hair?

Y/N did, apparently. Maybe a little too much, since she was still talking about it, much to Liam's dismay.

And boy, it was getting on his nerves.

"Y/N, will you please shut up??" He yanked the pillow away from his face, looking at his girl tiredly. "I'll wash my hair later, or just shave my head if you want to, I don't care. Just please shut up."

And she did. Liam didn't wait to see her expression change, he didn't want to. He simply picked up the pillow once again and hid his head under it, then turned his back to her. The room was silent for a moment save the sound from Y/N's abandoned game, and Liam wondered if he had went too far.

But he felt the mattress dip on his side, and then there were fingers running through his hair. His pile of greasy ass hair. 

"Okay. Tell me what's wrong." 

Y/N's voice was softer this time, making Liam sighed in content and automatically leaned into her touch. "Nothing's wrong, Y/N."

"You're a terrible liar, that's what's wrong." Liam could hear the light chuckle in her voice. "You just snapped at me, Liam. You don't do that."

"Am sorry." He mumbled with eyes closed, not knowing what else to tell her given his current state. But he knew Y/N wasn't going to take that as an answer.

"Come on pup, tell me. Is someone messing with you at school? Is that Nolan kid bothering you again? Do I need to give him a scratch or two?"

A small, adorable smile tugged on Liam's lips at the playful threat. Y/N never admitted it out loud, but Liam knew that she always prioritize his happiness and well-being. Well, she prioritized the pack too, but Liam liked to believe he was a little more special.

And he wasn't wrong about that.

"No, it's nothing like that. No one is messing with me at school." He finally answered her, while casually moving his head from the mattress onto her lap. "It's just that I don't sleep well these days, and its making me really tired. And your babbling doesn't help." He added the last part quietly, but Y/N heard it. Thankfully, she wasn't mad - she just smiled.

"Aw, Li. Why didn't you tell me about this? I could've help you."

"Help me?" He peeked an eye open and looked up at her. "How? I'm- I'm not gonna take sleeping pills, so dont even try suggesting it."

Y/N laughed at that. "I mean I can help you relax before bedtime, silly. A bath, hot chocolate, massage, things like that."

"Oh, that." Liam sighed, closing his eyes again and went back to snuggling her. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Well, get off then. That bath isn't gonna prepare itself, doesn't it?" Y/N poked his shoulder, and Liam reluctantly rolled off her lap. He watched her disappeared into the bathroom, and suddenly remembered what they were arguing about earlier.

"Hey Y/N, do I still have to wash my hair?" 

"Yes!" She called out from inside the bathroom. "Your hair is so greasy I could fry some KFC in it, Liam. I don't want any of that near my face when I'm sleeping. So you either wash your hair, or you dont get cuddles." 

"Noooo, I need my cuddles!" He whined dramatically, reaching out a hand towards his girlfiend who was now walking back into their room. Y/N just rolled her eyes, obviously not buying the act. 

Just another day in the life of Liam and Y/N, when things weren't crazy with monsters and darkness.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

[marisa-writes]

Marisa’s Writing Goals for 2018

A couple of my friends (Natasha @wokeuptired and Eliza @roselirry) tagged me to share my writing goals for 2018. I’m gonna go ahead and say these are probably more along the lines of wishes rather than goals, because my job teaching eighteen little kindergartners demands the most of me, which means both time and energy for writing comes and goes and I catch the wave when I can.

My goals (wishes) are as follows:

Finish Checkpoints, my little Giam rewind fic. According to my original outline, there are about five parts left, making a total of ten, and I’m aiming to stick to that or at least remain awfully close if the outline expands just a bit.

Update Elementary a bit more regularly! I don’t know what it was about the stress of last year that made the words for this story flow from me so easily, but man, once I approached chapter five, things started moving like molasses. I’d like to see that change in the new year.

Figure out what the hell I’m doing with the two fics of mine that feel the most ambitious, Regarding Our Ghosts... and Median. I’ve had ROG on my heart for two years and I can’t seem to let it go, and Median scares the shit out of me because I so badly don’t want the storytelling I dream of to fail. Both stories feel SO BIG to me and I just want to do right by them.

Make one of those partially-written Liam fic ideas sitting in my Google Docs come to life. Probably Basketball Jones, an AU in which Tionne is a twin and an art major and her brother Amari plays college basketball with point guard Liam (there’s a moodboard that’s been sitting in my drafts for a million years), or Roots, in which Liam is nearly finished writing and recording his solo album when he gets the opportunity to meet with legendary soul artist Maurice Collins...only to have the project passed along to Maurice’s daughter, Cleo.

Write! More! Standalone! One-shots! Nearly all of the one-shots I’ve written have produced characters I couldn’t stop thinking about and ended up turning into a chaptered fic or a series of one-shots/drabbles. Will I ever break this cycle? We’ll see what happens in 2018.

I’m gonna tag my darling @finding--cat because I always care about what she’s up to when it comes to those goddamn beautiful words of hers. Good luck with your writing in 2018, everyone!

[thumper-darling]

all the writer asks? and can you use your current story for the blank ones?

1. Favorite place to write.

My most productive nights writing were spent in hotel rooms with cheap black coffee and terrible lighting. It sets a very motivating vibe. 

2. Favorite part of writing.

Creating and developing characters. Character arcs?? are ?? my favorite??

3. Least favorite part of writing.

writing ™ 

4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?

Yeah, procrastinating for months. :’)

5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.

Patrick Ness and Stephen Chbosky are pretty big idols of mine

6. Favorite character you ever created.

Cadence, she’s my hero 

7. Favorite author.

Rainbow Rowell or Patrick Ness

8. Favorite trope to write.

Coming of Age Angst ™ and realistic development for the main character

9. Least favorite trope to write.

Love triangles or over-dramatic and non-realistic romantic interests. 

10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

I’d love to work with Chbosky and write a spin-off of Perks of Being a Wallflower, or like a potential sequel? That would make my actual dreams come true. 

11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

In the beginning, I print off a million character questionnaires and fill out every detail about my main characters. It’s funny, because my characters always come first, and the story soon follows. After I know my characters inside and out, I think in their mindset for days and write down notes about things I for sure want to include in my story whether it be a plot twist or just a small piece of dialogue. Once I find the character’s voice, I feel ready to start writing the story.

12. How do you deal with self-doubts?

I’m still not great with this, because I have a LOT of self-doubt, but I know that writing is what I want to pursue. I just remember that I have talent and I shouldn’t worry about the first draft because the first draft is almost always awful.

13. How do you deal with writers block?

I read. A lot. Reading helps spark ideas and un-stick my story.

14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book?

OH MY GOD. I would look at maps and historic timelines. I filled nearly 4-5 pages of a journal just with a timeline of events and it was lit. 

15. Where does your inspiration come from?

Literally anything. That bench on the corner? INSPIRED. Pulling out of a driveway? INSPIRED. That sandwich looks tasty. INSPIRED. No, but in all seriousness I just observe my surroundings at all times and in an average day I can pull an idea out of something. 

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

I just think of my future and what impact/ message I’d like to leave behind to anybody who reads my writing. 

17. On avarage, how much writing do you get done in a day?

None. Writing isn’t something I can do everyday. Some days I’m more inspired and motivated than others. If I try writing when I don’t have the energy, it turns out forced and choppy. I let the motivation come to me.

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

I typically like to wait a week or two before re-reading and editing, that way I can have space from my writing. I do it gradually through out the story so I can draw potential ideas from what I have so far. 

19. First line of a WIP you’re working on.

Version 1: “The shop had been empty for a little over an hour, and Charlotte was beginning to grow restless.”

Version 2: “Charlotte had a look of determination set in the furrow of her eyebrows and curiosity in the gleam of her eyes.”

20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.

“Whenever Jordyn spoke, it was reminiscent of watching an old southern film. Her slight, hidden drawl was nothing less than soothing. Charlotte sometimes liked to picture her with obnoxiously tight ringlet curls and big, poofy southern belle dresses with frilly ribbons and lace. The thought brought a subtle snort from Charlotte.”

21. Post the last sentence you wrote in one of your WIP’s.

Version 1: “He just followed his feet, and they lead him to her.”

Version 2: “His only response was a smirk before he opened the door to the back alley.”

22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?

At least a million

23. Single or multi POV, and why?

Single, I feel like it leaves for more mystery. That way the reader can interpret different POV’s for themselves. 

24. Poetry or prose, and why?

Prose, rhyming isn’t my forte 

25. Linear or non-linear, and why?

Depends on the story I’m trying to tell. Sometimes one way has more impact than another. 

26. Standalone or series, and why?

Standalones are beautiful for some stories, but others simply must be more than just one book long. Some stories exceed one book.  

27. Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished? 

I share drafts with people I trust to edit or give me feedback. 

28. And who do you share them with?

My friends that love stories. 

29. Who do you write for?

Mainly for myself, but also for anybody that needs to hear the message my story can offer them. 

30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.

“So, as a sign of letting go, I introduced my lips to his cheek and the sound of my skin meeting his was a melody playing a sweet goodbye.”

“Kissing him was like kissing air or water, it was so sweet and slow that it was a natural instinct to flow with it. However, kissing her was like fire because it was warm, inviting, and compelling, but had all the potential to burn him. Their love was like melting into each other, neither would make it out alive.”

31. Hardest character to write.

Side characters or the main character’s family. Because those characters are always important and meaningful, but I don’t want to write them only as a means of helping the main character. I hate flat characters and everybody deserves to have a story, you know?

32. Easiest character to write.

The sidekick ™ 

The one who always knows just what to say and how to say it. 

33. Do you listen to music when you’re writing?

Only for specific scenes that music could really inspire me for. Like if I’m writing a sad scene and I’m not really in that head space, I listen to depressing ass music so I can understand the scene better. 

34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?

Both. Here, have some of my notes.

Just some random dialogue drabbles:

 “So, can I find you here often?” “Jamie…I work here.” “Oh, yeah, right. Of course.”

“There’s nothing beautiful nor poetic about being an asshole, Jenny. Calm down.”

“Listen, you’ll always be a jalapeno bagel and strawberry cream cheese to me, but I sort of feel like I should know your name by now.” 

“Emma, have you ever been in love?” “I might have been. Then again, girls are easy to love, I’m pretty sure Jamie is a different story. If you want my advice Charlotte, date a girl.” 

35. Tell some backstory details about one of your characters in your story ________.

The main character is named Charlotte Caroline Tillman. She’s named after the city and state(ish) that her parents met in. She has an older brother named Chance and a calico cat named Sally Mae. Charlotte goes to an Arts Magnet High School and she has a troubled history with her father, and a lot of the story is about her accepting things she cannot change. Her best friend, Emma, is v gay and v hot. 

36. A spoiler for story _________.

Charlotte ends up leaving town and everyone she loves. All that’s left behind is a note and a phone number. She leaves her life behind. No closure and no goodbyes. She’s kind of a dick. 

37. Most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Everybody has a story, and every one is worth being told.” 

38. Have you shared your outline of your story ________ with someone? If so, what did they think of it?

Lol no, my outline isn’t even finished homeboy

39. Do you base your characters of real people or not? If so, tell us about one.

I usually base my side characters off of people I know or have met, even if only for a brief moment. For example, today at work I saw somebody and instantly knew that I needed her in my story. She is now the inspiration for my character Jenny. 

40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why?

Both are equally fun and important. Fanfiction is an amazing starting point for beginners, and it helps them write. However, original fiction is so raw and new that it could inspire future writers. 

41. How many stories do you work on at one time?

Typically just one, but I always have other stories in the back of my head. I like to focus on one at a time though, that way I can keep characters and plot points straight. 

42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.

Well, like I’ve said, my characters come first. So based on whatever kind of story I want to tell, my character has to portray that. So I pick and choose different tropes and arc ideas that could impact the story even further. 

43. Are you an avid reader?

I heckin’ try to be. Sadly, I don’t always get into stories easily. 

44. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

I had an English teacher write a note on one of my writing pieces telling me that she knew I had talent and every teacher has one student where they think “That one…that one’s gonna be the one who makes it” I was that student for her. Oh, and my composition professor had my class read some of our writing pieces, and he told the next semester’s class about my writing. The next time I had him in class, he handed me a form for a writing contest. 

45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

I honestly probably blocked it out. Idk, probably that I use too many commas? Or that one of my chapters was written in a passive voice. 

46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie? 

OH MAN! It would be great and I feel like a lot of the stories I write would be 100 times better on the big screen. 

47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?

Characters. 

48. Favorite genre to write in.

Contemporary or science fiction

49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?

The middle

50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

A coven of teenage witches that were randomly selected to be given magic. Some of them became corrupt with power, and the others found good use for them. 

51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.

Self love, friendship, denial, heavy, heartbreaking 

52. How did writing change you?

It opened my mind to endless ideas and helped me grow. I often didn’t know what I was feeling until I wrote about it. 

53. What does writing mean to you?

It means creating a million versions of yourself and turning it into a lesson or inspiration for other. 

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

Don’t stop. There are so many things you have to tell the world, so tell them. 

[breathofthefuture]

Alright, so I don't know if any of my followers have realized yet, but with Oona being redone and past events being retconned, this leaves a couple things open to change, and so I want to clear some things up that Fish-mun didn't cover in his post. 

First off, the Conton in shambles. That's being retconned, but is Ibuki's insanity being retconned as well? No, actually. Fish has said that I'm free to keep the twins making her snap as canon, and I still want Scelus to blast off her arm (though I might redo the drabble because Ibuki wouldn't be as unfocused as the original version), which means that post-insanity is still going to happen. Which, speaking of that, @hawkbranwen, I just want to give you a gentle reminder that Hawk is the one who's going to bring back her sanity (but if you don't want him to do it or something else, just tell me and I'll probably have Dia do it.) 

Second is Zeph. Now yes, Ibuki and Oona's relationship is retconned, but whether or not it will happen again really depends on their interactions once Fish is done with the redo. However, does this mean Zeph is retconned specifically until the ship is reconfirmed? No, believe it or not. Remember, Zeph is biologically Ibuki and Trunks's child. If the ship does not happen with Oona, there is still hope for him to still be canon. And god forbid he doesn't somehow, I'll just not make him a ship kid and instead make him a standalone character, since he is honestly the kid I put the most effort into and is the most developed.   

@epochisms, I'm actually gonna mention you right here, because I remember in a CaH game you said you didn't mind ship kids for your muse, so I was hoping if your Trunks specifically could be Zeph's dad. Not saying you have to, of course. It's just an idea I want to put out there. If you rather talk about this privately, then you can send me an IM. 

 That's about it, in all honesty. The only things I didn't really cover at the amount the other two things were at is how new Oona and Ibuki will meet and the ship kid Fish had designed for Ibuki/Oona, but both situations can be described quickly (their first meeting is being rewritten with new Oona, and the ship kid Fish made, Piali, and her fate most likely depends if the ship happens with new Oona) so it's nothing I have to go over with a huge paragraph. So yeah.

[pocharryfics]

hi!! do u mind writing a drabble inspired by harry and his motorcycle?

At this point in your relationship, you would have thought that Harry would have learned not to question your choice in movies - if you had selected something for the two of you to watch, it undoubtedly served some purpose in one way or another. Many of your favorites growing up had become matriculated into his own film collection and more often than not, he preferred the choices you made to his own.

But when you had cued up Grease 2 instead of its more universally popular predecessor, he couldn’t contain himself and his reservations had surfaced before he had the time or forethought to stop it.

“Why’re we watchin’ that one? It’s awful.”

You had heard that phrase recited almost verbatim anytime you chose to watch this film with someone and each time you gave the same response.

“Have you ever seen Grease 2 before?”

The immediate reply was almost always the same as well.

“No.”

“No? Well how do you know it’s bad if you’ve never seen it?”

That usually begets stunned silence, and you always seize advantage of that moment of disbelief to make your case.

“The problem is that people always compare it to the first one. As a standalone film, it’s not bad at all actually and it has pretty good songs.”

Harry was still unconvinced, looking as though he’d much rather just watch the original, but held out his arms open for you nonetheless and settled in for the movie.

Around halfway through the film is when it all started to piece together for Harry and he understood your obsession with the underappreciated film. Certain songs you would hum along to or contently nod your head at, but the “Cool Rider” scene in the auditorium is what really got you on your feet.

It was your favorite song in the entire film and while Harry wasn’t as entranced by the magic of it all, he was certainly endeared by it - for the most part just enjoying you enjoying the film.

“So he’s gonna become a greaser an’ try to win her over?”

“Oh Harry, it’s so romantic, too! He becomes this super cool biker badass and sweeps her right off her feet when she’s at work,” you cooed, humming along to the final notes as Michelle Pfeiffer danced off screen.

“Mmmm. Well thanks for the spoilers, love. S’not like I wanted to see it for myself,” Harry teased, pulling you back against his chest and tucking a bit of your hair out of his face.

“Sorry, I just really love that bit. Ever since I was a little girl I always fantasized about a handsome guy on a motorcycle pulling up and picking me up from school. I know it’s silly, but watching this movie just reminds me of that.”

Harry only nods and squeezes you a bit tighter. You were being so uncharacteristically adorable that he couldn’t help but soak it in as much as he could and when that particular scene came on, he understood the appeal. The masked motorcyclist had showed up to the gas station where she worked, rescued her from rude customers, and they had literally drove off into to the sunset together. Who wouldn’t be endeared by that? He had even swooned a bit so he couldn’t imagine how dreamy this would have been to you as a little girl.

A slow smirk spread across his face as an idea occurred to him. He quickly peered down at you to make sure your eyes were still focused on the screen. When he saw that they were, he grabbed his cell and thumbed a quick message to Ben Winston - he’d need to make an unexpected visit to his home very soon.

You were unbelievably exhausted. In what could have only been a few minutes, your political science professor had droned on for what seemed like hours on a side tangent about the electoral college. Usually you wouldn’t have minded this - it contextualized the lessons as well as helped improve your understanding and gave a brief reprieve from the vigilant note taking you had been doing - but the next exam was two weeks away and there was still material that needed to be covered.

It seemed that your fellow classmates held the same reservations, some going as far as closing their laptops altogether. The chances of your professor finishing up the tangent and providing any additional information pertinent to the exam in these last few minutes of the lecture were slim.

“You got any plans after this?” Your study buddy Sylvia whispered to you, trying to discreetly pack away their belongings.

“Nah, just gonna head up to the library and look over my notes,” you quietly replied.

“Good, cause I wasn’t here last class and had missed the lecture. Can I see your notes?”

“Sure,” you hummed.

“Well that’s about it for today, folks. The study guide is posted online and I’ll be available Tuesday and Thursday during my office hours if you have any questions. See you all on Wednesday afternoon.”

The lecture hall emptied out as if the building were on fire, dozens of dead-eyed and weary academics shambling for refuge outside. You knew that available space in the library was scarce at this time of day and that if you stood any chance of grabbing a seat then you would have to get a move on soon. A much-needed caffeine fix would have to wait until then and a proper meal even more so and you hoped that the sharp hunger pains wouldn’t dull your concentration too much.

A sudden and thunderous roar ripped through the campus quad - sleek, lean, and impressively glossy, a motorcycle drifted a corner and pulled up on the curb.

The masked motorcyclist had a thousand eyes on him, most everyone in the quad staring. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the engine of the howling machine had ceased its clamor as its rider turned the key. A plethora of coeds strutted past his bike, flipping their hair and waving in hopes of catching the mystery mans attention but he seemed to only have eyes for his phone. You and Sylvia rolled your eyes and shared an exasperated laugh as the spurned ladies huffed at the rejection.

A low buzz emitted from the right pocket of your sweatpants. You slid your thumb across the screen to unlock the device and the message that read nearly made you drop the phone.

Your head whipped up from your phone and you swore you could see the smirk underneath the helmet. In retrospect, you should have known it was Harry the second he had pulled up. Those famous boots were recognizable almost anywhere and if you weren’t so exhausted you would have noticed it sooner.

Just gonna stand there and pretend like you don’t see me?

No fucking way.