#and a few friend's fanfiction

[joycrispy]

Thanks for the tag @angelofthemornings!

Rules: Make a new post and post your latest/most recent line from your WIP and tag as many people as there are words.

...Unfortunately, I have no active WIP at the moment. Just a lot of PIP...Practice in Progress. I'm doing a lot of very small things, mostly for pleasure, with no particular end goal in mind.

But there's no rule saying I can't share old WIPs, writing-adjacent. Besides, I've seen the art equivalent of this particular tag going around --and these days I don't distinguish much between art and writing and whatever else.

So!

For my big WIP late last year/earlier this year, I taught myself how to book-bind. Which it turns out I really, really like to do (a surprise to me --until now, I've never had any success sewing anything).

These two little hardcover sketchbooks are my favorites, so far.

This was part of a giant, composite project: I was writing a book (not a novel, but a book-length written work), with the intention of binding a few copies of it myself, each copy unique (different covers, different embellishments in the formatting, different dedication at the opening of the book, etc., as suited to particular individuals). I was also making small ink drawings for the 'chapter' illustrations. The goal was to give the finished books as gifts.

...This was very time-and-energy-consuming. xD I got roughly 80,000 words written, 50 illustrations thumbnailed, and you can see I was making good progress on the binding bit (my first attempts were either very flimsy, or very stiff...clearly home-made. These sketchbooks may not be beautiful, but they're just as sturdy as any store-bought journal, and the pages turn perfectly)!

It was close, but it never did get finished. Ah well. I'm proud of myself for learning new things, and for getting very far on a very ambitious idea (and for being insane enough to try in the first place, fueled by love and homosexual audacity). And I can take what I've learned with me into future projects.

I always want to tag all my mutuals, so consider yourself tagged, but just scrolling through my recent notes: @epaily @celebkiriedhel @a-case-for-wonder @lollo12589 @ozbian @criticalrolo-main @sonicspocketwrench1 @pawthorn @maydaymadier @jaffefuneralhomes @medinaquirin @velocirabbit @archfeyfrumpkin @bunchofasholes @ora-cool @quill-of-thoth @shadyorc and...yeah, anyone xD

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny, at 17, did not have the best love life. This is partially because two of his must haves in a partner are " Will protect me with their life" and "Will commit unspeakable acts of violence for me" or at least beat someone up for his honor.

Naturally, this doesn't always result in the most stable of partners.

His first girlfriend, Valerie, became an anti-hero and broke up with him for his safety.

He finally got with Sam in sophomore year only for the feds to come into class one day to arrest her. To his surprise, her crimes had nothing to do with ghosts but rather an incident where she went too far and committed a few acts of economic terrorism. Danny and Tucker never really learned the specifics of the crimes, and her parents hushed up as many news outlets as they could, so there wasn't much info to go around. All they knew was that she saved thousands of lives by doing it.

In the end, she was sentenced to eight years, and she broke up with him so that he wouldn't wait around for her to get out.

His third partner was a guy named David who was really sweet. Unfortunately, Danny got kidnapped one day by David's arch nemesis, who was some villain with a corny edge lord name. Yeah. David had become a a super hero after they started dating.

And if you guessed that he freaked out and dumped Danny for his own protection, you'd deserve a cookie.

Danny was noticing a pattern here. One that continued with everyone he dated. They always became some kind of hero before dumping him for his own protection, and it was infuriating. Sure, danny could defend himself, but he was never deep enough into the relationship to reveal his phantom half, and frankly, his hero career was something he left behind when he left Amity and destroyed the portals.

He met Tim at a skatepark after Tim fell off his board cause of some jerk speeding out in front of him on his own board, forcing Tim to stop or else hit the guy. The guy was unrepentant and Tim calmed him down (this did not stop him from melting the guys wheels with an ectoblast when no one was looking).

Tim then asked him to coffee. Danny, noticing how cute Tim was, agreed.

Danny was up front with his parents being mad scientists in Illinois. He always was with all the people he dated. It was better not to hide these kinds of things or worse, wait until you're already attached and afraid of losing them. So he always told potential partners as early as possible. Tim seemed a bit put off by this but was calmer about it than most, and they continued chatting.

Tim didn't seem like the type to turn to heroism or anti heroism so he felt safe on their later dates. It was only after he had known Tim for a while that he put the pieces together.

Tim was always covered in bruises that he hid with his clothes and make up, he had complained about batman over the phone when he thought danny couldn't hear, he was rich, he knew how to fight as revealed by his stances and footwork dispite trying to pretend he didn't, and lastly he held a lot of political power and influence being Bruce Wayne's son. Power he had no reservations using when it suited him or he was just feeling petty (that pettiness was part of why danny was falling for him harder than he thought he could)

No wonder Tim was so okay with his parents being rouges.

Tim was a villain!

At least Tim wouldn't leave him like all his exes. Danny doesn't think he could handle it if he did. Another good thing about this is now he can talk more freely about the more villainous and morally gray ideas and inventions when he was alone with Tim.

Tim didn't see anything wrong with Danny's idea to use something similar to cloning pods to make synthetic meats like rump roasts and steaks as a way to end world hunger and was eager to add to the conversation.

[seraphic-sibyl]

There are two wolves within you. One of them just came up with a fanfic you desperately need to see, and the other refuses to write it.

[becca-e-barnes]

The Study

Not only is this the start of my 'Moving In' series, I'm also calling it my birthday piece! I turn 24 on Tuesday and I'm trying hard not to think about the fact I'm overdue a quarter-life crisis.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K (oops)

Warnings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky, sub! reader, spanking, use of a vibrator, forced orgasms, kinda Dom vibes but totally consensual, degradation, safe word system but safe word not used, pet names

Summary: Bucky spends the weekend at your new house and you take him on a tour.

Minors, do not interact

Turning the key in the front door still feels odd. One of the very first changes you made to the house was installing a new locking mechanism on both doors and it hasn't had a chance to stiffen up yet.

The smell of paint is starting to dissipate but it hits you hardest when you open the front door. The hallway was one of the last areas of the house to be redecorated so the smell seems to be most noticeable right at the door.

"Damn, this place is deceptive." Bucky's remark makes you smile to yourself while you hang your jacket up. "It's a whole lot bigger on the inside than I thought."

"It surprised me too. All of the rooms are a nice size."

The house had ticked so many boxes for you. More than two bedrooms in a quiet development, a low maintenance garden, off road parking, a downstairs bathroom and the whole house has plenty of potential. The plan isn't to live here forever, after all. It should be easy enough for you to sell when you decide to move on.

You flick a few lights on in the hallway and toss your keys into the bowl on the hall table before you turn your attention back to Bucky standing in your living room. Despite the fact you hadn't removed your own shoes, he's taken his off, leaving them neatly at the doorway of the living room beside his travel bag.

He's respectful of your space; he always has been but it's nice to just have him in your space. It's nice to have him be part of it.

He walks slowly around the little living room, looking at the few ornaments and picture frames you'd collected. "That's cute." He's looking at a picture of you and your best friend, sitting on the floor of your old kitchen, laughing yourselves to tears over the fact your Christmas tree was three inches tall and cut out from the back of a cereal box. The photo brings a smile to your face every time you see it.

"Are you hungry? You've had a long day." You move over behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his clothes while he looks at your pictures on the fireplace. He's had to travel for a few hours just to get here so you imagine he's bound to want something.

"I'm okay for now." You nod at his response, taking in the fact he's actually standing in your home.

The time you have with him is limited. That's how this works but for just less than two days, he's yours. After that, he'll go back home so you've learned to make the most of the time you have with him.

"Help yourself to whatever you like. Kitchen is down the hall." You don't even really want to move but you can't stand like this forever.

He turns in your arms so he's facing you and captures your lips in his. It's a soft, slow, gentle kiss; the kind you've been dreaming of since you last saw him. You need him to feel exactly how much you've missed him without having to tell him.

The kiss lasts for minutes, far beyond its natural end but neither of you care.

After what feels like forever, your lips part but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you determined not to pull away.

"I still haven't gotten the grand tour." He's got the most beautiful eyes and they're locked on yours to the point that you'd almost forgotten he's never been here before. "But I want to start in your favourite room."

"Well, the study is my favourite. I converted one of the bedrooms into an office space."

"Show me."

You don't protest. Instead you head out of the living room and up the stairs to the furthest end of the hallway, with Bucky following closely behind you.

"These all used to be built-in storage units around a headboard for a bed. I took all the doors off the cabinets and made it into shelving." You'd turned the room into a space that you love. The walls are painted a light shade of cream with houseplants lined up between books on the shelves. Instead of storage around a headboard, you now have book shelves, arching around your desk. The other side of the room has a sofa that converts into a bed for extra guests and there's a beanbag in the corner by the window to read on.

"I see why it's your favourite. Odd mix of books here though." Bucky's eyes flick over the titles, ranging from your collection of political figures' autobiographies, the 'Diary of an Oxygen Thief' trilogy, the selection of books providing commentary on the criminal justice system and a good few classics.

"It is. But I like this room. It'll be cosy in winter once I get some fairy lights and nice and bright in summer. Somewhere to unwind." You're thinking out loud as you reach up to close the window and that's when you feel Bucky step behind you.

"I think we should celebrate." Bucky’s voice is low, his lips trailing up the side of your neck, heading towards the spot just behind your ear that he's always loved to kiss.

"I think..." He stops briefly on his path, taking a second to inhale deeply, determined to slow down. "I think we should make love in every room of your new house this weekend."

Fuck.

"Are you sure you're up for that? Because I can really stretch it out. I'm not sure how we're going to make it work in the pantry or the downstairs bathroom but I'm happy to try."

"Your 'pantry' is a cupboard." Bucky's breath is hot on your neck, and you feel his lips have curled into a smile.

"I know. You promised every room though." You can't help but tease him, although you're half serious. It's not your fault that you're keen. Not when he's kissing down your neck like that and holding your waist so your back is flush against him.

"You're a handful." You feel his fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist and you remember how nice it is to just be touched the way he touches you.

"I might be a handful but I can promise if I have my way, after you leave here on Sunday, you won't even be able to think about cumming again until Thursday at the very earliest."

"Jesus, that's one hell of a promise." He turns you around to face him and you notice his eyes are damn near twinkling with excitement.

You've got all weekend together; there's no need to rush but you can't help the overwhelming need to feel him sliding into you. That's when you feel closest to him and it's the closeness you're craving more than anything.

Your hand cups the side of his face, your thumb tracing across his freshly shaved jawline and you allow yourselves a second to just be together.

He smells familiar. The heat of his body against yours makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe.

"I want to start with you though. I brought you a little something." He kisses your lips gently and smooths a hand down over your hair before he retreats downstairs to the bag that he'd brought a few changes of clothes in.

He returns with a small cardboard box with the tape on one end already cut.

"I didn't have time to wrap it. It arrived last minute." You're so busy trying to get into the box that you hadn't even noticed.

Inside the box are a few instruction manuals, a thin white cord and a black satin pouch. Inside the pouch is a neon pink toy that's thicker at each end, narrow in the middle and nicely curved.

"I've already charged it and paired it to my phone. This end slips inside you." He points to the thicker end, studying your face to make sure you're okay with this.

And why wouldn't you be? This is pretty damn close to a dream come true.

"Remember what you said last time I saw you? You wanted me to spank you. Maybe we should take it a little further." He's always been hesitant to do anything that would hurt you and that fact is the very reason you want him to. You know how much he wants to protect you and knowing he cares about you has you convinced that he's the right person to explore this with.

"Please." You whisper, beyond excited at the thought of getting everything you've begged him for. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking about you bent over this desk with this inside you and we'll start off with a couple of light taps to that pretty ass." He presses the button on the narrow part of the toy and it give a short buzz, coming to life in his hands.

Fuck, you're into this man. You're into his hesitation just as much as you're into his willingness to try something new.

"Traffic light safe word system. 'Red' and I'll stop, 'amber' and I'll give you a break, 'green' to keep going." He wants to be fully sure you know you're in control here, not that you ever had any doubt.

You nod and stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time with as much passion as you can manage. Your hands run through his hair while his trail over your body, your tongue flicking gently against his.

Just being around this man makes you wet, not that you'd ever admit that to him. Even the thought of him has you throbbing with arousal so now that he's here in front of you, your whole body feels like it's buzzing.

He touches you like he can't get enough. He can't get you close enough and it's beyond thrilling to be the subject of his need.

It's almost embarrassing that you get yourself worked up so easily but from the hungry look in his eyes when you undo the button of your jeans, he doesn't seem to mind.

You step out of your jeans and panties and Bucky helps you out of your top and bra, leaving you naked in your study.

"Look at you." Bucky sounds like he's almost in awe, no matter how many times he's seen you naked.

He kisses you again, matching the same passion he'd had earlier, trailing his hands over your soft, warm skin until his fingers are nestled between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're soaked." His fingertips trail between the folds of your sex, gathering the wetness he's responsible for. "Good girls don't get this wet at the thought of being spanked. You know that, don't you?"

You're almost too turned on to even respond to him. "Bend over. I want to see how well you take your toy."

You do as you're told, bending over your desk while Bucky drops to his knees behind you to slip the toy inside you. You feel him trail the thicker end of the toy against your slick cunt, gathering enough wetness to let it slip inside you comfortably.

Within a minute, the toy comes to life inside you and there's no way to stifle the moan that catches in your throat.

Not only is the internal part vibrating at a low, delightful buzz, the other end is pressed right to your clit and is stimulating it at the same strength.

"Did I say you could make a sound?" Bucky quizzes, sounding harsher than ever and when he gets no response, his hand comes down on your ass with so much force that it makes you yelp.

It was a hell of a spank and you can feel heat blooming under the skin of your left cheek, quickly followed by another spank to the right.

"For the record, you can make as much noise as you need to. But only because I've told you that you can. You see the difference?"

You force yourself not to nod and it has the effect you were hoping for. Two more harsh, painful spanks are delivered, one to each cheek, the same as before.

You don't know if you imagined it but the toy inside you feels stronger. You can't be sure if you're just focusing on the pleasure over the pain or if Bucky really has turned it up.

"Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" He needs to know you're enjoying this because a little part of him is surprised at just how much he's into it. He gets to control both your pleasure and your pain because you want him to and the trust alone is enough to get him off.

"Feels amazing, fuck. Making such a mess." Stringing sentences together isn't easy but you swear you're about to cum already. Your nipples rub delightfully against the wooden desk and you swear every sensation is heightened.

"I wish you could see the mess you're making. Looks fucking delicious." He turns the toy up ever so slightly but that's enough to send you spiralling, gripping the edge of the desk as pleasure ripples through your entire body.

You can do nothing but sob, cumming relentlessly because he's refused to turn the toy down. Even after you're done, he keeps it at the same intensity, moving on like nothing happened.

"You say the sluttiest things. That promise of yours to totally drain me. Who says shit like that? So fucking filthy."

"I mean it. I want every drop of cum you can give me. And then more." You know saying something like that will earn you another spank and it does.

"You're not just acting like a slut. You are a slut. You spend your life hiding it from everyone else but you can't hide it from me." A shiver runs down your spine. You almost feel like you've been caught. Like he's figured you out and now you have nothing left to hide. "Say it."

It's a clear instruction but saying it makes it real.

Your hesitation earns you another sharp spank, heat prickling both your face and your ass at the same time.

"Don't make me tell you twice." For someone hesitant to slip into a dominant role, he's absolutely nailing it.

"I'm your slut." Your voice is less steady than you would've hoped but the words at clear at the very least.

"My slut?" He almost sounds like he can't believe what he heard.

"Yours. Your slut." You repeat, wishing you could see his face.

"Oh sweetheart, that's cute." He means it too. He turns the toy up as a reward and even though it's only at half its full strength, you can't help but cum again, pleading your way through another blinding orgasm.

"Such a good girl for me. That's it. Cum nice and hard. Give that slutty little pussy what it needs." He lands one more harsh spank on your ass and you swear it only makes you cum harder, to the point that your legs are shaking.

But all of a sudden, the sensation stops completely.

"B-Bucky?" You ask, turning around to look at him, wondering if something went wrong.

"Don't want to wear you out, sweetheart. I think that'll do for now." You agree that it's probably a good place to stop and you have no problem taking the toy out for a while.

He pulls you in close, resting your head on his chest, letting you catch your breath while he holds you and kisses your forehead.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is soft, hoping that you'll tell him the truth.

"No. It was perfect." You smile, capturing his lips in yours, hoping to relieve some of his fear. You're almost giddy with excitment. It truly was everything you needed and you fully intend to thank him for it before the weekend is over.

"Good. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." He's back to the gentle, tender touches that you're so used to from him and it's a blessing that he can flick so effortlessly between both personas.

"How about we order in and stick a movie on?" He suggests, kissing the tip of your nose. "Go put on something comfortable. I'll find a takeout."

[the-stars-in-between]

It's decided, I'm going to rewatch Supernatural because apparently the first time wasn't painful enough. But! This time, I'm going to write fanfiction and semi-coherent analyses. And also count the number of times Dean says awesome.

Wish me luck!

[penisbrigade]

i think cas would get super into crafting, especially as something to do when he doesn’t sleep, so he learns to knit or crochet until he has a full closet and then he’s making things for dean and sam so you get dean winchester on a wendigo case stoically wearing a lumpy grandma sweater with a few holes and what are probably bees but cas hasn’t gotten very good at designs yet. once he gets good at tapestry yarn work, maybe he starts working protection sigils and symbols into things he makes as well. i just like to imagine it.

(bonus: cas learning how to make stuffed animals and amigurumi so he very seriously presents people with little strangely shaped creatures that could be bears and cats, but just as likely be monsters or demons of some sort )

[serenescribe]

thank you @oddberryshortcake for letting me write something based on this absolutely heart-wrenching post! i am in shambles from the newest update. spoilers ahead.

“Silver,” Lilia whispers, in a voice that breaks as it spills past his cracked lips.

Lilia pays no attention to the way his knees ache, kneeling for as long as he has been, the thin fabric of his stockings rubbing raw patches into his flesh. Nor does he focus on any of the other ailments afflicting him — the blanket of fatigued exhaustion weighing down his shoulders, the throbbing agony pulsating through his head, the scratchy dryness itching up the inside of his throat. The only thing he has eyes for is his son: Silver, who lays in his arms, cradled close to Lilia’s body, his head lolling against Lilia’s chest.

Silver’s eyes remain firmly shut. He is still asleep.

Oh, Lilia’s heart crumbles with each ticking second, eyes fixated upon the slow rise and fall of Silver’s chest. He is not dead — Not yet, a terrible, pesky part of Lilia’s mind, words uttered from the lips of a disillusioned general, tells him, to which Lilia bats away, trying to ignore the thought. The sight of his breathing should fill Lilia with relief because it means Silver is still alive.

And yet, Lilia can only hang his head over Silver’s body, cradling him even closer, arms wrapped protectively around the body of his son, his child.

“Wake up, Silver,” Lilia murmurs into his ear. He blinks, eyes wet and heavy, feels something sliding down his cheek — a single solitary tear, but not alone for long. Wet droplets land on Silver’s body, sinking into the fabric of his shirt. How long has it been since Lilia cried like this? He cannot remember. Seven hundred years spent alive does that to someone — it numbs their heart, dries their tears, makes it nigh impossible to cry, especially when so much of their past is occupied by something as numbing as the wretched consequences of wars long fought.

Silver still does not stir.

Distantly, Lilia notices the faint tracks marring his cheeks, echoes of tears long since shed. He reaches for it with a thumb, swiping at the dried stains, as though wiping it away could erase all of the pain Silver must have gone through in his dream. He knows enough of what happened, knows of it from what the others has told him, and it makes his heart shatter — the thought that Silver had nearly succumbed to his own blot, all because he found out his past, a past Lilia tried to hide for fear of Silver being judged for the sins of his fathers, breaks something nestled deep inside of his chest.

Lilia closes his eyes. “I love you,” he breathes, words he has been so terrified of saying all these years. He does love Silver, truly — but to utter those three words, the words a young Silver have always said to him so freely with that beaming smile spreading across his chubby child cheeks… For years, Lilia has evaded ever speaking them into reality, to return the obvious affection of his son instead of laughing it off and saying “I know.”

And as a consequence of that, Lilia is now far too late.

He knows he is not alone in this room. He can hear things — conversations that swirl together, hushed murmurs, snatches of his name and Silver’s own, footsteps and doors creaking open and shut. He can see things — in his peripheral vision mainly, shadows that approach and depart, the occasional sight of footsteps slipping into view. He can feel things — a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, fingers reaching out to stroke Silver, all touches that Lilia shrinks away from, pulls Silver away from. Because as far as his addled mind is concerned, the only thing he can process right now is him and his son.

A memory haunts him: He is a few years younger, finding Silver for the first time. He uses his magic to explore his memories, discovers the identity of the child in the cradle, and finds out that he is the spawn of his enemies. And yet, all Lilia can focus on is the knowledge that Silver was fated to slumber until his true love woke him up, an unending rest only broken when Lilia stumbled upon him.

He is Silver’s true love, and Silver is his.

“Silver,” Lilia tries again, his voice cracking into splinters as he forces his name past his lips. “I love you. Wake up.”

Silver is his, isn’t he? Just as he is Silver’s — an absolute truth that Lilia turned a blind eye to for years, too scared to reciprocate the emotions swirling about his soul in full force, to unleash the depths of his love for his dear son. If Silver could wake from the throes of a sleep that had addled him for four hundred years all because of Lilia’s love for him, a love he had not realised the extent of when he found Silver for the first time, then surely he can do the same now, right?

Surely Lilia’s love for him, a love he knows now to show freely in the way he hugs him close, presses kisses against his forehead, will be enough to wake him… right?

So why is he not waking?

Why is he still asleep?

Is his love not enough? That cannot be the case. Lilia loves Silver — with all his heart, with all his soul; they have been bonded since the moment Silver was born, the invisible strings of fate entangling the two of them together before either of them knew it. Lilia is the key to Silver’s lock, his very presence opening the boy’s heart, dispelling the effects of a curse that has kept him in stasis for four long centuries. His only mistake was not showing his affections sooner, of keeping his heart carefully guarded until it was far too late.

So why then?

Why won’t Silver wake up?

[buff-muffin]

Has anyone written a fic about Sabo absolutely chewing Dragon out right after thus scene?

Asking for a friend :)

[nostalgic-soda]

Good evening everyone I am so diseased over the lego monkie kid fanfiction “A Garden Across Our Collarbone” by @pittdpeaches that I got so emotional, I ended up throwing a plushie at my microphone on accident and it broke the stand

(That is to say this fic is actually fucking peak)

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident Part VIII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2k

About: You finally meet your good friend <3

Part I II -> Next part

"You know each other?!"

You stare at Atsumu with wide eyes, who just stares at the short blonde next to you and raises his eyebrows as if he just had an epiphany.

"Where have I—wait. Karasuno. Karasuno's manager! You're a friend of Shoyo-kun!" Atsumu's eyes shine when he talks about Karasuno, and you furrow your brows when you remember that it's the name of Yachi's old school. "Shoyo-kun? Like—Hinata Shoyo?" You ask, recalling a bright orange-haired man you've met a few times already when Yachi had invited you to drink with her and her friends. They had always been a lively bunch, definitely growing on you the more often you saw them.

"Hmm, we work together," Atsumu nods, and you blankly stare at him while you try to digest that piece of information. You know that Hinata is a professional volleyball player. Very professional. Olympics level professional. He offered you cards to his games quite a few times, and you had politely declined, not wanting to cause him trouble, but he had sent you tickets anyway for a game in a few weeks.

That probably means that Atsumu is a professional player too—or he might be some kind of manager, according to the vague statement that they are working together. His physique and his posture tell you that he potentially could be an athlete- you would believe that in a second.

"Working together like... playing volleyball too?" You ask for clarification, tilting your head curiously while you watch his reaction. His lips curl into a smug smile, and the confidence he's radiating now makes your legs turn into jelly.

"Yeah. I'm a professional, just like Shoyo-kun. He loves my sets, by the way. Always aces them with no problem."

His eyes capture yours and you hang on his every word, definitely surprised by the development. You're married to a probably very famous professional Olympia volleyball player. You're not even sure what to think about this; the new details just made the whole situation more absurd and unrealistic. The only good thing is that Yachi apparently knows him. You could maybe get more information out of Yachi about him later.

"I—wait. The marriage—you married ATSUMU MIYA?" Your attention shifts to Yachi, who turns almost worryingly red, and you quickly step closer to her and reach for her arm, trying to calm her down. "Yes, but it's okay. He's a good guy, okay?" You smile encouragingly, and Yachi takes a few hasty loud breaths before she nods.

Atsumu watches you both and awkwardly clears his throat, a faint blush covering his cheeks at your words, and rubs the back of his head. "I'll leave ya two alone then. I'll call ya, y/n."

The last thing you see is his smile before he turns around and walks away with his hands in his pockets now. His broad back is evident, especially when he's wearing the white dress shirt, and you can't help but admire the man for a second before Yachi enters your sight once again.

"Y/n! - what happened?!"

xxx

"I can't believe you're married to Atsumu Miya!" she exclaims, still sounding shocked as she repeats the same sentence for the third time after you managed to tell her the fully story during the car ride. Both of you sit on her comfortable plush couch, adorned with a few of her stylish designer blankets. You're glad to be in a familiar place finally, but you can't help but to think about Atsumu. Will he call or leave a message soon? You wouldn't mind him calling today already- just to make sure you have his number. Nothing else. Just to clear that whole marriage thing. And nothing else.

You nod with a mild smile an attempt to calm her slight panic. Atsumu has assured you that everything will be taken care of, and you find yourself actually trusting him. "It'll be okay. You mentioned he's a good guy, right? I mean, he's friends with Hinata."

Yachi deeply inhales and takes a sip of her tea and nods. "He's close to Hinata. They get along really well. But let me tell you, Atsumu Miya in high school is something else. His serves were powerful and terrifying- not as much as today, but still enough to keep us all on the edge. Even Nishinoya had a hard time receiving them. Atsumu-san and Osamu-san managed to copy Hinata's and Kageyama's special attack effortlessly. It was insane. Maybe we can find a recording of it."

She grabs the remote to turn on the TV, and you lean forward eagerly at the thought of seeing more of Atsumu. "I wonder what Atsumu looked like in high school," you muse, taking a sip of your tea, its slight bitterness complementing the rich flavor. "He basically still looks the same. His hair got a bit brighter, and I think he grew a bit. And gained mass," Yachi responds, finding what she's looking for with an excited squeal. "Here!"

You both watch how a much younger Atsumu raises his arm and much to your surprise the whole crowd falls silent. "What- that's not normal, is it?" You turn to Yachi who seems slightly pale, probably because she remembers the moment vividly. "That's normal for Atsumu Miya. He was so good and popular that he got that special treatment. It helps him to focus. Oh, and watch his steps! You can tell what kind of serve he's going to make by the number of his steps."

You diligently nod and watch him serve again, taking six steps this time. The camera angle is a tad bit closer this time, and you don't fail to see his yellow-ish hair that definitely looks different compared to his looks today. He was very fit, even back then, but he is definitely more buff today.

You watch some more of Atsumu's powerful serves, his form screaming utmost perfection, and memories of the very same strong, muscular arms wrapped around you make heat rush to your cheeks. Yachi continues to share insights about his playing style, and you quickly try to focus on her words.

"...their combined attacks are difficult to anticipate. But look at how Kei blocks it!" You nod enthusiastically while you observe Tsukishima's impressive block. The video then shifts to another game, showcasing Atsumu in a black uniform adorned with yellow claw prints on his sleeves.

"Oh, that's from the MSBY game! You should have seen him; there's this amazing set—" Yachi's words trail off as the camera cuts to an unusual angle, revealing Atsumu's impressive thighs in full glory as he sets the ball with a ridiculously seductive smile. Your jaw drops at the unexpected sight- you know for sure you would have fainted if you saw that scene in live. How dare he look so good while setting the ball?? "Look, Hinata easily managed to hit that! And there's Bokuto-san!" You recognize the orange-haired spiker, sharing a smile and high-five with Bokuto. "I can't believe that they all actually know each other."

"Yeah," Yachi smiles and nods. "Hinata always talks about Atsumu-san. And Bokuto-san is close with Osamu-san, I think. I've seen him post a few pictures with Akaashi-san at Onigiri-Miya."

"Is that the name of his restaurant? Atsumu said he would take me there someday." Yachi gives you a side-eye, and reaches for her phone. "You've gotten pretty close, haven't you? You seemed really flustered when-" You quickly interrupt her, "No! I—I don't even know him. I don't even have his number. He was just being nice, we're not really close."

Yachi nods with a small grin, and hands you her phone. "Here. That's his Instagram. He's also often at Onigiri Miya. It seems like he's very proud of his brother's success. I though you might want to have a look at his life."

"Thank you." Yachi is truly a great friend, and you feel once again fond of being close to her. As you scroll through Atsumu's Instagram, you find a mix of game snapshots, some pictures with Osamu, in which he always has a plate full of food in front of him, and you can't help but zoom into the plates, impressed by the neatly arranged dishes. As you keep on scrolling, you almost gasp loudly when you find a very surprising collaboration with Calvin Klein, featuring a shirtless Atsumu from a very close perspective. At first, you keep on scrolling, too flustered at the sudden revealing picture, but curiosity makes you go back after a few moments, and you look at the picture again.

He looks good. His muscles are well-defined and he grins seductively for the camera while he poses, clad in only a ripped pair of jeans. It's almost unfair how ridiculously attractive he looks, but you still think that he looks even better when he's just woken up, just like he did this morning. You exhale loudly and curiously click on the comments.

"I would pay real money to have him like this in my bed." "Christmas came early this year- and so did I." "Bless the Miya genes. I'd gladly help to spread them." "Thank you Calvin Klein. I'll make sure to get a pair of these pants." "*FAINTS* HE'S SO HOT, I CAN'T-"

You're startled when you notice how the comments get even more unhinged and shameless as you keep on scrolling. "He... has a lot of fans," you remark, scrolling back to the top and handing Yachi her phone back, to which she nods heavily. "He had his own fan club in high school, and ever since the Japanese team won the Olympics, the whole team has been very popular. Especially Atsumu-san and Sakusa-san."

You hesitate before asking the next question, uncertain of what the answer might bring. "Is there a reason why he's single? He seems like a decent guy, looks good, and he's probably rich. Isn't he the perfect catch?"

Yachi furrows her brows, thinking. "I don't know, actually. It's probably the same as with Hinata and Kageyama. They focus a lot on their careers; they simply don't have time for dating. I also found out that most volleyball boys can be a bit... intense. It's probably hard to find a partner that understands their passion. They prioritize training over anything else. I've never seen Hinata skip a day of training, no matter what happens. Their partners must accept that they put a lot of their energy and time into their jobs."

"Ah," you simply nod, slightly surprised by the revelation. You would have assumed that they have a very lively dating life, but it seems like they just live for work. Sounds a bit lonely.

"I also think that some fans are a bit obsessed with their private lives. There was an incident before with Atsumu-san and one of their fans- but things have calmed down lately, so you should be fine." Yachi reassures you, reaching for a cookie on the couch table.

"I think that—" she is interrupted by the sudden sound of a ringing phone, and both of you exchange confused glances before realizing it's your phone. Yachi's eyes light up, and she squeals, "Maybe it's him—I mean, I could have gotten his number through Hinata, but maybe he's got some news—"

You fumble with the phone, the unknown number undoubtedly belonging to Atsumu. Taking a deep breath, you nod at her and hold the phone to your ear, answering the call with a simple,

"Hello?"

[infestedguest]

On a whim I went on a quest to find out how many crossover crackfics of Fallout New Vegas and Friends (1994) exist, and was devastated to come up completely empty handed. Are you seriously telling me that in the 13 years both pieces of media have been in the public consciousness nobody wrote a crossover crackfic?

[todayisafridaynight]

RYO AOKI | “WHEN I RULE THE WORLD”

[myers-meadow]

Dance of Fate: Gaunter O'Dimm x reader

Title: Dance of fate

Pairing: Gaunter O'Dimm x reader

Summary: On Valentine's Day, you receive a mysterious message from Gaunter, who invites you to spend the evening together. A date, he promises. Yet, there's quite a bit he didn't promise you. What motivations could a man like him have for taking such interest in a mortal?

Warnings: none.

Wordcount: 744

For @gauntermetaverse, who inspired this after the very, very kind gift that still haunts my dreams <3.

divider by saradika-graphics.

His words echo in your head. Even when the meaning of them seems straightforward, you know you have to take them apart and not take anything at face value. Who knows what adder is hiding in the grass when it comes to him. And this was... special. An invitation for a date, on Valentine's Day. Despite the nervousness in the pit of your stomach, how could you ever refuse?

The evening came. Questions about what tonight could have in store for you make way for a new reality as you blink and find yourself somewhere you don't know. Magically transported to another place, or perhaps to another plane of existence altogether. Your feet rest on grass, wind caresses your cheeks and pulls at your hair. To your right, there is a cliff of stone, and underneath it; a coast. The sea turns orange and red as the sun sinks below the horizon. In the distance you see other cliffs, white, regal and still, as if haphazardly carved from marble. A few seagulls screech in the air above. You can't place where you are, but somehow it feels like something from your childhood, hauntingly familiar. Would this be where you'd finally meet the man who has quietly dwelled in your heart for so long?

"How nice of you to join me." He speaks gently, but still it makes you startle. Looking inland, you see him, hands clasped, standing a few metres away. Beside him, lays a checkered blanket. He's prepared an actual date, you think with surprise. Somehow you didn't think he'd follow those mortal conventions, of having a picnic date.

"Thank you for the invitation," you counter, stepping closer to him.

"Shall we?" he gestures to the blanket and sits down, legs crossed. Somewhere behind him is a basket (did he just conjure it up?), he reaches in and retrieves a bottle of wine and two glasses. You sink down next to him. The blanket is rough as you lean on your palms. The sensation grounds you. Is this place real? You pluck a few blades of grass and examine them closer. They seem real enough. Fall apart between your fingers as you tear off piece by piece, before discarding it and turning your intention back to the man in front of you.

"Where is this place?"

"Somewhere I thought you'd like. I said it'd be somewhere quiet, did I not?"

"I imagined your realm to be more... hm, sinister?"

Gaunter laughs. He sets the glasses down, it's a little wobbly on the blanket, so you reach out to hold them steady. He uncorks the bottle with a satisfying pop. Wine pours in the glasses, a deep red. Each taking one of the glasses, they clink together in a silent toast, and you take a sip. The sourness quickly makes way for a deep velvet aftertaste. A moment passes. The atmosphere is calm, yet you get the sense Gaunter, who took you here, has barely hidden intentions hidden beneath the amicable surface. You shift to a more comfortable position and look out over the sea.

"I was rather surprised by your message. What made you think to invite me? Especially on a day like Valentine's?"

"It seemed only fitting to have a proper moment, just the two of us. Don't you agree?" He takes a moment. A glimmer in his eye makes you pause. "After all, it was you who took such a liking to me, in a way."

You hum, your fingers again reaching to pluck at the grass. 

He easily picks up on your discomfort. "Nothing to be embarrassed about! I'm flattered."

"Of course you are," you huff, yet you can't suppress a grin.

He takes another sip of wine, swirling it around in his glass as he regards you. His gaze pierces soul-deep. "My invitation has more  than one reason, frankly. First; I just wanted to meet you, in person. To offer you a glint of the very real powers I possess, of the possibilities I could turn into reality. And second; I'd like to tempt you."

You cock your head to the side, to tell him to keep going.

He sets down his glass, fingers walking their way over to your knee, tapping it lightly. "Who would I be not to try and make a deal with someone as delightful as you? What do you say? Any life-long wishes I could make true for you? Surely you've considered it before."

[ghostly-cabbage]

I have officially edited and updated my DP fic recommendation document

I've so far only used it for friends but now I'm wondering if any of you guys would be interested...

[rebornofstars]

WIP ask game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs

i've seen a lot of these going around with open tags, so i'm hoping it's okay if i jump on the bandwagon.

i also feel like i don't have that many LU mutuals??? so if u want to be mutuals hmu. i've been trying to be more active in the tumblr side of the fandom but it's tricky... i spend a lot of time just writing. but i would love to make more friends over here!

my current top priority wips are:

The Cursebreaker (4 chapters left)

strawberry (1, possibly 2 chapters left)

the primordials (7 chapters left)

my medium priority wips:

stationary point

out of phase

darkling i listen

hunger games au

goat fic

(i name like... all of my wips as soon as i start writing them.... sorry the names are not very fun or silly...)

i'm not going to list the low priority ones. there's too many.

i think everyone i know has already done this ask game ;-; @/anyone who hasn't but secretly wants to!!

[rhaenyratargcryen]

when i see you, the whole world reduces to just that room (eddie munson)

summary: after what feels like the longest year of your life, you’re ready to ring in 1987 in the wheelers’ basement with your closest friends, one of whom you’ve begun to think of as a little more than that - and you’re starting to suspect he might have, too.

author’s note: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! idk i’m supposed to be finishing like, eight other wips but i decided to spur of the moment write a really self indulgent new year’s eve blurb bc why not!!! i’m feeling festive!!! i hope u like <33 also i scouted TIRELESSLY for lyrics for a good title for this before i settled on this one from ‘don’t delete the kisses’ by wolf alice - i looked through like a dozen ‘new year’s kiss’-esque playlists to find a good song LMAOOO

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader word count: 2k <3 warnings: none just fluffy nonsense, mutual pining, maybe a lil angst bc of the events of season 4 

“I swear to all that is holy, if you two don’t make out tonight, I’m–”

“It’s not that simple, Buckley, okay?”

“It totally is that simple, Eddie! You’ve been crushing for ages, just kiss her already!”

“Everything alright in here?”

Eddie and Robin look up at where you’re leaning against the doorway, both of their faces pale, like you’ve caught them in the act of something reprehensible, but really they’re just standing in front of the kitchen sink talking in hushed voices. Which, in retrospect, isn’t any less suspicious. You cock an eyebrow. “I heard shouting.”

“Yeah, fine,” Robin says, smiling, then brushes past you on her way back to the basement. “Eddie and I were just discussing some very important business. I’ll be downstairs. Happy new year!”

“Happy new year,” you murmur, pressing a hand against her arm as she passes. You glance up at Eddie, frozen on the other side of the room, hesitating for a moment before stepping three paces closer. “You okay?”

Eddie hums, his back still turned to you. His Iron Maiden tee rides up on one side, exposing the tanned plane of his back as he reaches up to grab the champagne flutes Mrs. Wheeler keeps in the cupboard above the sink, where really nobody can reach them except the big kids, and now Mike, the beanpole. You press a thumb to your bottom lip contemplatively, take a small, shuddering breath.

“Are you sure? It sounded like you and Robin–”

“Yeah, sweetheart, all’s fine,” Eddie says, turning and gesturing towards himself with three glasses in his hand. “Can you help me grab the rest of these? Told Harrington I’d make sure they were ready for midnight.”

“Of course,” you murmur, taking the ones already in his hands into yours, your knuckles brushing only briefly against his, and watch him grab four more by the stem, wincing only slightly when they clink together. He turns to face you, meeting your eye momentarily and when you go to open your mouth again, he raises his eyebrows and angles his head in the direction of the basement. You sigh. “Yeah, sure, let’s get these downstairs.”

As you descend the stairs behind Eddie, you watch Robin, Steve, Vickie, and Nancy peel themselves apart, each of them giving you their own wary glances, heading off into different corners of the basement, busying themselves and avoiding your gaze. You stop abruptly when you reach the bottom of the stairs, try to cross your arms as far as they’ll go with the champagne flutes in your grasp.

“Seriously, you guys, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing!” You shoot a glare at Robin, who crosses her heart with her fingers. “Nothing’s going on. Swear.”

“You’re all being so weird, and upstairs, in the kitchen, you and Eddie, like, practically jumped out of your skin when I walked in the room, and now this?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Robin insists, glancing sideways at Steve. “We, uh. We’ve all just been trying to convince Eddie to apply to work at that tiny new record store going in in the spring. He thinks it’s a long shot, but we all know he’s a shoe-in. He’s being too stubborn about it, honestly.”

Eddie scoffs, and you frown, but resume your descent, handing the champagne flutes to Steve, who sets them on a table set up in the furthest corner of the room. You glance at Eddie, suspiciously quiet, who’s ditched his own glasses and is now busying himself trying to figure out the TV.

“Fine, whatever.”

“We can have champagne tonight, too, right?” Max pipes up from the couch, and you narrow your eyes at her. She’s clearly in on whatever the others are up to, changing the subject like that. She holds her arms up defensively.

“No, Mayfield, everyone’s parents would kill me,” Steve scoffs, prompting some muttered insults from Max. “Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m serious.”

Protests pop up around the room, all of the kids suddenly offended at the prospect that they’re too young to have champagne with the rest of you, though they hadn’t been bothered until Max brought it up. 

“I mean, I think, like, half a glass wouldn’t hurt?”

Steve looks at Nancy, eyes wide, a bewildered look passing across his face. “Nance, I thought I’d at least have you on my side!”

Jonathan laughs and throws an arm around Nancy’s shoulder. He shrugs. “What’s the harm, Harrington? Nancy’s parents are out of town, we’re all just gonna crash here anyway. Live a little, dude.”

“Yeah, Harrington,” Max grins, and Steve shoots her a warning glance. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Steve says, glancing up at you. “Give me a hand again?”

Plastic cups of champagne are passed around, and you watch as everyone experiences it for the first time. El is sniffing the drink, not sure what to make of it, glancing up at Will, who seems not to mind the taste. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are all watching Max for her reaction, and when she takes her first sip she immediately pulls a face, disgusted. 

“God, it’s so…dry?”

Steve snorts. “It’s champagne, Mayfield! Get used to it!” 

On the TV, everyone is preparing for the ball to drop. Jonathan grabs Nancy, Vickie grabs Robin, and you watch all of your friends hug and preemptively wish one another a happy new year. After the year you’ve all had, you can’t help but tear up a little at the sight of everyone you love safe and happy and together in the same room.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie whispers, standing at your shoulder with a full flute of champagne in his outstretched hand. You thank him and tap the glass against his own, watching him over its rim as you take your first sip. Eddie clears his throat, one hand clasped around the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t by any chance, I don’t know, want to be my new year’s kiss?”

You swallow the sparkling wine, trying to discern from the look on his face whether he’s being serious or not. His brown eyes are so bright, even in the dimly-lit basement.

When you realize he’s not joking, you take a step closer to him. “Yeah, yes, Eddie,” you breathe, one hand pressed against his chest through his tee shirt. Your hand holding your drink drops to your side, and Eddie clasps one hand around it. 

“Yeah?” He says, grinning, and you nod one more time for good measure. One hand against the side of your face, Eddie lets out a long breath, his cheeks flushing. “You’re sure?”

“Munson,” you whisper into the space between your open mouths, and as the countdown starts, everyone in the room chants along. Five, four, three– “Kiss me.”

Eddie hardly hesitates, and when the clock strikes midnight, he presses his lips to yours before you’ve even had the chance to close your eyes. His mouth is soft, his body so warm. His nose bumps against yours when you shift your head to deepen the kiss, which he welcomes for a moment before pulling away.

You all cheer, ringing in the new year, and now your frostbitten cheeks mirror his own, laughing as you catch Steve’s eye.

“It’s about time,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, but it’s playful, and you glance up at Eddie, watching as a smile makes its way onto his face, and you start to smile, too. You shove Steve’s shoulder then tuck your face into Eddie’s neck, who wraps one protective arm around you.

“Be careful aiming that attitude at my girl, Harrington,” Eddie teases, palming the back of your neck, pulling your face back to look him in the eye. His gaze is drawn down toward your lips, still wet from his, and kiss-reddened, for only a moment before it meets yours once more. The affection you’re faced with almost knocks your knees out from under you.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you respond, leaning forward enough to push your nose against his. Eddie grins.

“He’s right, you know,” Eddie whispers, and you nod. He is right. “Been wantin’ to do that for so long, you’ve got no clue. Just never plucked up the courage.”

“Is this what all of you were up to tonight? Which one of these hooligans finally convinced you to do it?”

“Um, all of us hooligans, actually,” Steve murmurs, chugging the rest of the champagne in his flute and pulling a face. Robin gives you a guilty look and mouths Sorry! when you aim a halfhearted glare at her. “He was like a lovesick puppy. It was gross, the way he’d moon over you, making eyes at you whenever you turned your back.”

Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head. “I was not mooning, Harrington.”

“Oh, you were mooning, man. Thank God that’s over.”

“Hey,” you murmur, grinning up at Eddie. “If I tell you I was mooning, too, but I was just better at hiding it, would that make you feel any better?”

“You know what,” Eddie sighs, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That does make me feel a lot better, sweetheart. Thank you.”

“No problem, baby.”

Eddie laughs at the pet name and pushes both hands up under the back of your shirt, pulling you tight against him, one of his thumbs underneath the band of your bra.

“Seriously, should we give you guys the room, or?”

“Shut it, Henderson,” Eddie grumbles, leaning down and pressing his lips back to yours once, twice, three more times. 

You grin against Eddie’s mouth and finally pull back for good, and when he whines, you give him a searing look. “We can continue this when there aren’t minors present, Munson.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart.”

You begin to make your way around the room, hugging each of your friends close. Wishing everyone a happy new year. Knowing the cost everyone paid to be here today. Thankful to still be alive to hold the people you love. Glancing over at Eddie every once in a while, and finding that he’s already watching you, a sweet, shy smile on his face. 

And if you fall asleep that night on the couch spooning Eddie, waking up in the small hours of the morning to turn him in your arms and kiss him silly, no one else has to know. You pull away from him, lips aching from the memory of his against yours, and click your tongue.

“You really spent all year pining after me?”

“Well, not...all year long.” You give him a knowing look, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and he laughs softly. “Okay, yeah, most of the year. I swear it wasn’t as bad as Harrington made it seem, but you just - you made it really hard not to fall in love with you, sweetheart, what with saving my life, you know,” he whispers, biting his lip, and sucks in one more sharp breath before finishing with, “and all.”

Fondness softens your gaze. 

“You should’ve said something, Eddie,” you murmur, bringing your hand back up to run your knuckles across the side of his face. He preens at your featherlight touch, pursing his lips, his gaze slipping down to your mouth. “You should’ve said something sooner. I would’ve let you kiss me, like, six months ago, if I knew.”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing. “We got a lot of time to make up for.” 

The two of you fall into silence, and Eddie smiles at you, a slow, soft, lover’s smile, meant only for you in the dark of the Wheelers’ den, the unspoken thought that thank God you even can make it up hanging between you. It’s not lost on you that it’s a miracle you’re even holding him it all.

The others are scattered, asleep, elsewhere in the house. All of these people you love, these kids who’ve had to grow up so fast, who’ve all faced the prospect of a terrifying end head-on and found respite in one another after the fact. The strongest, bravest group of humans you’ve ever met. 

You hum, lost in thought, and shift so your face is pressed between Eddie’s neck and his pillow, your mouth against the skin right behind his ear.

“We have all the time in the world, Eddie.”