#as long as they tag me so I can read it after

[steveseddie]

gold was the color of the leaves

steddie | rating: t | wc: 1,6k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, silly teenage boys, first kiss, fluff

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty two prompt “leaves”

read here on ao3

Steve wakes up when a leaf tickles his nose– or rather, when someone tickles his nose with a leaf. He scrunches it up, swatting the leaf away with his hand. 

He easily recognizes the snigger that follows so he’s not surprised to open his eyes and find Eddie leaning over him, one elbow propped up on the grass and a devilish grin stretching over his lips.  

Steve lifts his sunglasses to scowl at him. “Are you like, allergic to people relaxing?” He asks in a bitchy tone that only makes Eddie grin wider. 

“Deadly so, Stevie,” he says, long dark eyelashes fluttering as the hand that’s still holding the leaf rests against his forehead like he’s going to faint. “It was either annoying you or dying, and you don’t want me to die, do you?”

“I guess not,” Steve says with a long-suffering sigh, but either the fondness in his voice or the way his lips tick up prove that he doesn’t mean it because Eddie’s grin turns blinding, his dimples popping. Steve is glad he’s already lying down or his knees might’ve buckled at the sight and sent him rolling down the small hill they’re laying on.

“Besides,” Eddie says, tickling Steve’s cheek with the leaf, “you’re missing out on all the fun.”

“Napping is fun,” Steve points out, swatting Eddie’s hand away again. 

“Yeah, if you’re eighty!” Eddie snorts. “Are you an old man, Stevie?”

“Eddie, I’m younger than you,” Steve deadpans. 

“Maybe, but I have a young soul, Harrington–”

Steve smirks. “If by young you mean immature–”

Hand to his heart, Eddie gasps indignantly. “Hey!”

“Dude, you and the kids spent the last hour gathering leaves in piles and jumping on them,” Steve says amusedly. He spent the better part of that hour watching them tackle each other between shrieks of laughter, thankful for his sunglasses and how they let him stare at Eddie as much as he wanted without getting caught.

Eddie shrugs. “Hm, you may have a point.”

When he moves, something in Eddie’s hair catches Steve’s eye. A leaf– proof that he’d spent an hour being tackled and rolling on the floor before he decided to annoy him.

Steve’s fingers itch to reach out and pluck that leaf from Eddie’s hair, smooth the curls down, grab a hold of them and drag Eddie down–

Steve shakes those thoughts out of his head, balling his hands into fists to keep them from reaching out. In the silence that follows, Steve becomes aware of the sudden lack of yells and laughter around them. “Where are the little shitheads?”

“Wheeler sent them to wash their hands so they can have a snack,” Eddie says, pointing at the water fountain where the boys are cleaning up and at Max and El, walking arm in arm towards Nancy and Robin at the picnic table. 

“Not you?” Steve asks, head falling back against the blanket he’s using to lay on the grass. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I told her she’s not the boss of me,” he pauses, “then ran away before she could hit me with her book.” 

Steve snorts out a chuckle.

“Besides, I don’t want a snack. I got one right here,” Eddie says with a playful wink that turns Steve’s cheeks bright red. 

He ignores the heat creeping on his face. “I swear, Munson, if you try to bite me again–” he says, thinking about last week when Eddie said he was hungry and promptly sunk his teeth on Steve’s arm.

It didn’t hurt that bad– he was wearing a thick sweater after all. What did hurt was biting his tongue as hard as he could to keep a moan from slipping past his lips from Eddie biting him.

Eddie sniggers. “I won’t bite you, I promise,” he says innocently before he leers at Steve, his face hovering merely inches from Steve’s face. “Only if you ask.”

Steve grits his teeth together. “Shut up,” he quips, shoving Eddie off of him until they’re both lying on their backs, their sides pressed together. 

They fall into comfortable silence which Steve breaks with a loud yawn. 

Eddie’s head lolls to the side, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Tired, sweetheart?”

Steve’s stomach flips at the petname. He shrugs as casually as he can. “A little, I- uh, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Nightmares?” Steve nods. Eddie grimaces apologetically, tugging some hair across his face. “Shit, I should’ve let you keep napping.”

Without giving it much thought, Steve curls his pinkie around Eddie’s. “No, it’s fine,” he says, waiting for Eddie to meet his gaze. When he does, his eyes are a little wide. Wistfully Steve wishes it’s because of their interlocked pinkies. “I don’t wanna miss out on all the fun just because I’m tired.”

Eddie's eyes sparkle and he props himself up on his elbow again, grinning at Steve. “Does that mean I can tackle you into a pile of leaves?”

“You forget I was a jock,” Steve says smugly. “I’d like to see you try.”

Eddie laughs, something between a snort and a giggle. He drops his head in Steve’s chest, making Steve’s heart stutter. 

From this angle, Steve spots another leaf trapped in the curls in the back of Eddie’s head, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from reaching for it. 

The moment Eddie feels Steve’s fingers in his hair, his head snaps up and Steve’s hand ends up cupping the back of Eddie’s neck. 

Their faces are close– so close that Steve can hear the way Eddie’s breath catches when he realizes the same thing.

“Eddie–” Steve starts, not sure if he’s going to apologize for touching his hair without permission or for the way his eyes keep darting down to Eddie’s lips in a way that he knows is fucking obvious. 

But before he can decide what to say, he hears Eddie make an impatient, needy noise in the back of his throat before he surges forward and presses his lips against Steve’s. 

He lets out a surprised yelp, thinking– holy shit, Eddie is kissing me!

The thought bounces against Steve’s skull like a ping-pong ball as he tries to get his brain working again. But before he can do that long enough to kiss Eddie back, he’s pulling away and out of Steve’s reach. Steve’s hand falls back to his side, empty except for the leaf that he plucked out of Eddie’s hair. 

“You uh– you had this in your hair,” Steve says dumbly, holding up the leaf. 

Eddie’s eyes dart to the leaf and his expression falls as he realizes that is why Steve’s hand ended up in his hair, not because Steve was making some kind of move.

“Shit,” he mutters, his doe-like gaze darting from the leaf to Steve’s mouth. That he just kissed. “Shit, fuck– I– shit.”

He scrambles to his feet, and in his haste, ends up stumbling and falling back on his ass– only to roll down the small hill. 

“Eddie!” 

Steve jumps to his feet and runs after him, careful not to trip and follow Eddie down the hill the same way.

He makes it to the bottom right after Eddie and his eyes dart over his starfished body, checking for injuries. 

“Christ, dude. Are you okay?”

Eddie groans, covering his face with his hands. “Did the fall kill me? Please say yes.”

Steve suppresses a snort. “I mean. It’s barely even a hill, so I don’t think that’s possible. You might end up with a bruise or two though.”

“Oh, you mean apart from the bruise to my ego?” 

“What?”

“You know,” Eddie gestures between himself and Steve with one hand, “because I kissed you and you didn’t want me to.” 

Steve puts his hands on his hips. “Who says I didn’t want you to?”

Eddie’s hands fall from his face, revealing his wide eyes and slack jaw. “You did?” He asks, voice going high-pitched.

“Yeah,” Steve says, a lopsided grin stretching over his lips. He knocks his Nike against Eddie’s leg. “I did, you just took me by surprise, s’all.”

Eddie lets out a tiny, startled, “Oh.”

Steve smirks. “Yeah so how about you get up so I can check you don’t have any cuts or bruises before I kiss you. Properly this time.”

Eddie squeaks and scrambles to his feet with as much grace as when he tumbled down the hill. Steve finds his eagerness fucking endearing. 

There are even more leaves trapped in Eddie’s curls now, and with an amused shake of his head, Steve plucks them out of his hair before checking for any bruises. 

Then, as promised, he leans in and kisses Eddie. The second kiss is also short and chaste and over too soon, but it’s good and Steve has to remind himself they’re in public in order to gather enough willpower to pull back. 

When he does, his brain is a little hazy and he completely misses the way Eddie’s expression shifts from dopey to mischievous so it catches him by surprise when Eddie tackles him into a pile of leaves, laughing maniacally. 

“Ha! Got ya!” Eddie whoops, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, hovering over Steve who wants nothing more than to kiss the stupid smug smile off his face. 

But he can hear the kids laughing at him and cheering for Eddie in the distance and there’s no way he can get away with kissing him even if Eddie’s hair falls like a curtain around them, offering a little cover.

So he grabs a handful of leaves and shoves them into Eddie’s grinning mouth instead.

He’ll save the kiss for later.

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken pt. 3 (MV)

max verstappen x reader

tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @maluzets55 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @what-a-curated-mess @anilovessadbooks @how-what-why-huh @abbyandersonstargirl

pt. 1, pt. 2

After Brazil, you flew back to New York to catch up on brand content and the stack of books waiting for you. It was a rainy afternoon when just after filming your October reads, your phone pinged. Max was streaming. You'd turned the notifications back on after Austin but hadn’t actually tuned in.

Setting up your phone in the kitchen, you half-listened to him playing Minecraft as you started dinner. Then you heard him say your name, and you froze.

“Lots and lots of questions about y/n, I see. I’m trying to win her back, guys, so I need your help. Any suggestions?”

You smiled as you scanned the chat comments.

Move to NYC

Let her drive your F1 car

Fly her out to all your races

Propose

With a grin, you couldn’t resist joining the fun. Typing quickly, you sent a comment that lit up the chat.

Y/N: $500 worth of books is a good first step, I think.

The next morning, your doorman called. “I need you to come down and get these packages. There are way too many.”

Confused, you walked downstairs—only to be met with a pile of Barnes & Noble boxes and realization hit. Back in your apartment, you opened them to find 25 books from your Goodreads “want to read” list. Your heart swelled.

Y/N: Max! This was too much!

MV: Nothing is too much when it comes to you.

Later that day, you went live on Instagram, answering questions. Predictably, most were about Max. Your fans were torn, with some excited at the idea of you two rekindling and others still wary.

“Look, I get it. He did me dirty, but it’s complicated. It’s easy to say I shouldn’t even consider this, but we have 15 years of history. He’s… still my Max.”

A comment caught your eye.

Maxverstappen1: Glad to know I still have a chance.

The chat erupted, and before long, gossip accounts were tagging you in posts speculating on your relationship.

That evening, you were winding down with a glass of wine, just about to turn on the Thursday Night Football game, when there was a knock at your door. With a sigh, you shuffled to answer it, already irritated by the interruption—until you opened the door to find Max standing there.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised.

“Oh, I was just in the area,” he said casually, his eyes gleaming, though you spotted a duffel bag at his feet.

“In the area? With your luggage?”

“Mmmhmm.” He grinned as you laughed, letting him in. He set his bag on the counter and pulled you into a warm hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“We’re supposed to be taking it slow, Max,” you reminded him, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Whatever, schatje.” He rolled his eyes as you led him to the couch. He plopped down beside you, lifting your legs onto his lap, and you couldn’t help but relax into the moment.

“How long are you staying?” you asked as he pretended to watch the game.

“Until Monday, if that’s okay.”

“And you just assumed I’d drop everything to host you?” you teased.

“Yeah,” he replied, turning back to the screen.

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

He smirked. “Cheer up, schatje. I got us tickets to the Bills game on Sunday so you can see your team. And I get to see Daniel.”

Your face lit up. “Daniel’s going to be there?”

He narrowed his eyes, a hint of jealousy flickering. “Yeah. Don’t act too excited.”

You laughed, entwining your fingers with his, grateful for these small, familiar moments.

The next two days were spent showing Max around NYC, and you started to fall back into your old habits with him. He refused to let go of your hand anytime you were walking somewhere, and you felt his eyes on you everywhere you went. 

It was Saturday night, and you were waiting for a table outside of a restaurant, watching as Max took a selfie with a younger fan. 

“Is that your girlfriend? She’s pretty,” the young girl said, and you blushed. Max shot you a big smile. 

“She is pretty, but not my girlfriend. She will be soon,” he replied, and the girl giggled. 

Max led you to your table with one hand resting on your lower back. You’d chosen one of your favorite Italian restaurants, and you're eager to put a nice bottle of wine on his tab, of course. 

Sitting across from him, you felt nervous at the intimacy of the setting. His eyes were swimming with emotions of the past and where you were now. 

“I want to hear everything that has happened to you since I last saw you in Australia,” he said inquisitively. You took a sip of your wine before diving in. 

You told him about your channel growing and getting famous guests on the podcast. How you’d moved to New York a year ago for a change of scenery but still visited back home often. You told him about your friends who had started getting married and having kids, but you weren’t jealous of them; you were very content in your life. You described NYC at Christmas and how the first time you experienced it, you felt like you were in a different world. He listened as you mentioned a few guys you had briefly dated, and he was pleased to hear that none of them had worked out. 

Finishing up your monologue, you meet Max’s gaze and notice the lingering sadness in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked concerned. 

“I’m just thinking about all the stuff I missed,” he admitted, looking down. “All the stuff I should have been there for. How could you ever forgive me?” 

His eyes glistened, and you thought for a moment before replying.

“Because I want to believe that the Max of the past is still there,” you said softly. “You broke me down, but I survived and kept going. As much as it hurt, good came out of it. Maybe we needed time to be away from each other to grow up. I don’t know if I can ever forget what happened, Max, but I can try and forgive.” 

He reached across the table to grab your hand, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You definitely don’t,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

—------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you bundled up in your Bills gear and headed off to meet up with Daniel before the game. He was supposedly at some random person’s tailgate, so you and Max wove through the hoards of people to get to him. Watching Max in this environment was very amusing as it was just another world of people; not a single person had stopped him to ask for a picture. 

“Hey man,” Max greeted Daniel, pulling him into a hug. “Enjoying retirement?” 

“I get to do this now, so of course,” Daniel joked before turning to you. 

“What’s up y/n? It’s been a while,” he said, eyebrows raised, and you knew a million questions were running through his mind. He had been Max’s teammate for a little while back then, so you knew him well. 

“It has,” you agreed. More and more people joined the tailgate, and you could tell Max was getting on edge. 

You were conversing with Scotty and Daniel when you grabbed Max’s hand, pulling him closer to you to ease his discomfort. He took your invitation, sliding behind you with his arms wrapped around your chest, his head resting on the top of yours. Daniel gave him a big smirk, and you rolled your eyes, moving your hands up to hold on to Max’s. 

Max had no idea what was happening during the whole game but he still enjoyed watching you get so excited. The way your face lit up in excitement was something he was committing to memory, hoping he would get that same look from you soon enough. 

After the game, you walked back to your apartment, the city lights twinkling as you strolled through the crisp November air. Max kept your hand firmly in his, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a way that made your heart race.

Inside, you set your things down, still buzzing from the excitement of the game. Max shrugged off his jacket, glancing around the apartment as though trying to memorize every detail.

He looked over at you, his expression softening. "You know, this place really suits you."

You smiled. "Thanks. It finally feels like home."

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. Then, he spoke again, his voice laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard from him. "I want you to come to the Netherlands with me for the holidays. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d love for you to see my family again and… just, maybe, have you close."

You looked at him, surprised. His gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. You could see he was waiting for an answer, for you to trust him again enough to take this step.

“Max…” You hesitated, your mind racing. A part of you was scared of what it would mean to spend Christmas with him and his family—to be a part of his life again. But then you looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the man who had always been there, in some way, over the years.

A smile crept onto your face. “Alright. I’ll come.”

His face lit up in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time. He pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead softly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

You laughed, suddenly feeling warm and at ease. "I guess we’ll see how much Dutch I remember."

As he held you close, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you were ready to see where this new chapter with him would lead.

[doodlebeeberry]

It's OSC gift exchange number 4, baby!!

Thats right folks!!! once again so so excited to host the gift exchange, hopefully itll be yet another fun one! :D

doing things slightly differently this year: if you wanna join you can just fill out this google form! You can also still join by replying/reblogging/dming me with what you'd like if you prefer to do it that way though.

Rules, dates, and details are all under the cut (and also in the form), please read them through fully before joining!!!

Entries close November 28th at midnight (est)!

For those not in the know, the gift exchange is just what is sounds like! Upon joining, you tell me what you like to see in you gift. After, you'll be randomly assigned a giftee, and will make a gift for them based on what they've requested. When the day comes, you'll post your gift and @ the person it's for!

The timeline this year looks like this:

Nov. 7-Nov. 28: Join the gift exchange by filling out this form, dm-ing me, replying, or tagging this post with what you'd like to receive. You can ask for anything--shows, ships, ocs, whatever! Additionally, if there's anything you dont want to see or won't make (ie, ships that make you uncomfortable), you can make a note of that as well

Dec. 1: I'll let you know who you've been assigned and what they'd like! This'll most likely be done through tumblr dms, so if that's an issue do let me know!

Dec. 1-30: You make your gift! This can be anything, from art to writing to music and more! so long as you follow your giftee's request, the possibilities are endless!

Dec. 31: Post your gift, being sure to @ the person its from! Please do not post your gift before this date!!!

Some other things to note:

You can request anything--shows, characters, ships, etc--just please make sure they are osc related! it is an osc gift exchange after all!

Asking for OCs is very much allowed, just be sure to provide me with a reference when you join

If your giftee requests more than one thing, you aren't obligated to fulfill all of their requests if you don't want to. Just be sure to do one of them and you're good!

If you need to drop out for any reason, that is completely ok, it happens! just please be sure to let me know ahead of time so I can re-assign your giftee!

On that note, if you have reason to believe you will be unavailable or otherwise unable to post your gift on the 31st, please be sure to tell me so we can work something out! Additionally, if you can't reach out on tumblr (say, your blog gets deleted) you can also poke me on bluesky (@ bumblebeeberry) or discord (thatonegaycat) about it

You can not join anonymously! I just don't think it'd fair to your giftee

While I highly doubt I will need to, I can bar you from participating if I deem it necessary. Again, unlikely, but in the off-chance it does happen I will message you to let you know, pretty please do not yell at me if I do

Not a requirement but when I send you your giftee if you could just let me know you saw the message i would greatly appreciate it!

As per usual I'll be tagging everything with #osc gift exchange, feel free to use it on your gift as well!

That's it! if you have any questions, comments, notes, what have you, please don't hesitate to dm me! :]

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork. 

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too. 

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress. 

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough. 

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses. 

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way. 

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them. 

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion. 

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him. 

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once. 

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

​​Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up. 

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case. 

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter. 

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile. 

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp. 

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems. 

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi. 

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast. 

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway. 

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong. 

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know. 

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him. 

It’s not like it’s a lie. 

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn��t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm. 

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

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[schemmentigfs]

can i request a fluff one shot where reader has to go on a trip (either for work or family reasons) and melissa meets them at the airport when they arrive back and is just super domestic once back at their shared apartment 🥺🥺

In the Quiet of Absence.

Summary: After spending a month in Paris for a work conference, you finds yourself longing for the warmth of home and, more than anything, for Melissa.

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota <3

You sink into the plush hotel bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you look out at the city lights glimmering against the Parisian skyline. It’s breathtaking—no doubt about that—but after almost a month, even the magic of Paris can't dull the ache you feel right now.

“God, I miss her so much…” you mutter to yourself, rubbing your temple as you glance around the luxurious room.

Your right hand drifts to the nightstand, fingers brushing over your phone. Without thinking, you pick it up, your thumb tracing over Melissa’s name. You can picture her asleep back home, curled up in bed, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow, maybe even with little Sweet Cheeks nestled at her chest. The thought brings a goofy but genuine grin to your lips as you press ‘record voicemail.’

With the phone cradled in your hand, you start speaking quietly, as if she could somehow hear you through the miles of the ocean.

“Good night, Lis. I know you won’t see this until morning since you’re probably fast asleep right now. Paris is... well, it’s Paris. Beautiful, busy, a little overwhelming. Everyone says how lucky I am to be here, but honestly, it just makes me miss you more. I walked by a café today, and I kept thinking how nice it would be to sit there with you, sipping coffee, people-watching, maybe listening to you rant about the tourists. It’s just not the same without you here to share it with.”

Sighing softly, you add. “I spent the day at the conference, and honestly, I found myself daydreaming about our couch and Sweet Cheeks curled up between us. I wish you could’ve seen the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. You would’ve loved it. I tried to take some pictures, but they just don’t do it justice.”

As you keep talking about the conference through voicemail, the people you’ve met, and the places you’ve seen, you can’t help but let your thoughts drift to home.

Home.

It’s hard being so far from home, but even harder being far from her. Paris might be beautiful, a dream city for most, but without Melissa next to you, it feels empty, just walls and skies. You’d flown here for work, a month-long conference that was supposed to be exhilarating, a stepping stone in your writing career. And while there’s been value in it, each day is a little heavier than the last. Every stroll past the Eiffel Tower, every quiet hotel room evening, only reminds you of how much you miss the life you share with her.

You’d never imagined how hard it would be to be apart from her. Sure, you two had spent nights apart before, but a whole month? It was almost unbearable. You miss everything about her—her laugh, the way she fills the room with her warm, unfiltered energy, and the little things she does just to make you smile. It’s like there's a part of you that just isn't here, and every day, that longing grows heavier.

Everything here felt too polished, too perfect. You missed the little imperfections that made life with the second grade teacher so damn beautiful. How Melissa would wrap her arms around you in the mornings, still groggy from sleep. Her face when she’d forget where she put her reading glasses only for you to find them perched on her head, or the way she’d tease over making the perfect cup of coffee each morning. The way she would immediately fuss over your packing, making sure you had everything you needed, and the soft hum of her voice as she reassured you that everything would be just fine while you were away.

Home was with Melissa Schemmenti, and every part of you ached to be there.

Your girlfriend’s voice on the phone helps – her late-night calls about what went wrong at Abbott Elementary that day, the accent you love laced with the warmth of home. “Mon amour,” you’d whisper into the phone during one of your daily conversations, a term of endearment that wraps around both your hearts, even across the miles. But her voice isn’t enough, not when you’re used to seeing her every night, sharing meals, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else can.

With a gruff, you close your laptop, packing away notes you’d barely read. That’s when you hear the knock on your door, breaking the silence.

“Bonsoir, madame,” one of the hotel staff says politely when you respond. “Dinner is ready downstairs in the lobby.”

“Merci, je serai là dans cinq minutes.” Your answer is quick, almost robotic. Despite enjoying the culinary wonders of the place, you can’t help but prefer the meals of a specific redhead who knows everything about cooking and Italian cuisine.

“Pas étonnant, si vous avez besoin d’autre chose, nous sommes à votre disposition.”

You thank them with a smile, but you’re already glancing at your phone, at the time difference that keeps you apart, counting down the days – just three more – until you’re back in her arms.

Back at the bedroom, after finishing dinner, you’re restless. As much as the meal was filling, your thoughts are back at home with her. You finish up the small dessert in your room, the excitement building to be back in her arms, in the life you’ve built together. The night stretches on, a quiet contrast to the bustling city outside, and your sleep feels even further away.

You slip beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling as the quiet surrounds you. Sleep eludes you as memories of the older woman flood your mind—her lavender smell, the comfort of her presence. Everything.

“Just three more days,” you repeated the phrase, over and over again. Feeling like a mantra.

Closing your eyes, the loneliness is creeping in again, but the thought of returning keeps you anchored, making the distance feel just a little bit smaller.

It won’t be long now.

Back in Philadelphia, Melissa is dealing with her own form of aching loneliness. She’d thought she could handle a month without you; after all, she’d done it before. But the days had dragged on longer than expected, and each night without you next to her was another reminder of how deeply entwined you both were.

The redhead’s days are packed with the usual chaos at Abbott Elementary, but somehow it doesn’t quite fill the space you left behind. She comes home to an empty apartment that feels colder without the warmth of your laughter echoing through it. Sweet Cheeks, her classroom guinea pig, has become an unlikely companion, curled up in a little cage by her couch. She started bringing him home on weekends, claiming it was to keep the kids excited for Monday mornings. But if she were being honest with herself, she liked the company—even if it was just a ball of fur and squeaks. Sweet Cheeks always listened to her rants about the day, his tiny, twitching nose and big eyes a small comfort in your absence.

She talks to him about you sometimes, about the things she knows you’re seeing in Paris. “She’s probably at some fancy shit right now, buddy,” she mutters, throwing him a piece of lettuce as she leans back on the couch. “Probably complaining about how boring those rich dumbasses are.”

Melissa had never really considered herself to be sentimental. She was tough, independent, and good at taking care of herself. But after so many years of you two being together, this past month had taught her just how much you’d become her home. She finds herself missing the little things—your goodnight kisses, the way you leave your books stacked messily by the bed, the warmth of your hand reaching for hers whenever you pass each other in the kitchen.

She sighs and reaches for her phone, scrolling through your photos, lingering on the ones you’ve sent her from Paris. There’s one of you smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, looking radiant with the city’s lights sparkling behind you. She can’t help but smile, even if her chest aches. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispers, running a thumb over the screen. The animal lets out a small squeak, almost as if he’s in agreement, and she chuckles. “Yeah, champ. I’m the luckiest gal in Philly, huh?”

Her phone buzzes with a voicemail notification, and her heart jumps a little. It’s your voice, soft and intimate, filling the quiet of her apartment as you talk about your day. You talk about the conference, the view from the Eiffel Tower, and how much you wish she were there. The familiar sound of your voice brings an ache to her chest, but it also fills her with a sense of peace.

She presses the phone close to her heart once your message ends, letting out a shaky sigh. “Just three more days,” she says to herself, mirroring your own anxiety. She settles back into the couch, Sweet Cheeks nestled beside her, as she listens to your message one more time, the sound of your voice helping her feel just a little closer to you.

The nights for your girlfriend are the hardest. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, longing for the warmth of your body beside her. Sometimes, she’ll grab the spare pillow, pulling it close to her chest as if it could somehow substitute for your presence. She buries her face into it, breathing deeply, as if she can still catch a faint trace of your scent.

She’s tough, but she’s not ashamed to admit that she’s counting down the hours until you come back.

When Saturday morning rolls around, Melissa stands by the sink, her sleeves pushed up, humming a soft tune as she washes the breakfast dishes. Sunlight filters gently through the curtains, casting a cozy glow over the kitchen and giving her that familiar sense of home she craves more than anything right now. Sweet Cheeks squeaks from his spot on the counter, and she reaches over, giving him a gentle scratch.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mama will be back soon, okay?”

Just as the green eyed woman was about to finish the last dish, her phone rang. Seeing your name, Her heart skipped, her fingers fumbling with the dish towel as she hurriedly picked up.

“Hey, amore mio,” she greeted, her voice soft and warm, as if she hadn’t heard from you in months, though it had only been a few days.

“Hey, Lissa! Guess what?” you said, excitement bubbling through the phone.

She grinned, already thrilled just hearing your voice. “What? Tell me!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow!”

Melissa let out a little laugh, caught between disbelief and pure joy. “Shit, really? Tomorrow? I missed you so much!” The words escaped her before she could hold back. She looked down, feeling a bit silly for how much she’d let herself miss you.

Sweet Cheeks, catching onto her excitement, squeaked louder at his feet, little paws tapping against the kitchen counter as though to join in. “See, even Sweet Cheeks missed you,” your girlfriend joked. “I think he’s been going nuts without his other mama.”

You laughed on the other end, and Melissa felt warmth spread through her. She didn’t want to admit it outright, but it had been a long, lonely few days without you, the routine things—the cooking, the tidying, even sitting on the couch—felt empty without you there.

“Well, you just hold tight. Tomorrow, we’ll make up for lost time,” you replied, and she could practically feel your smile through the call.

“That’s perfect. Love you, hon.”

“Love you more.”

After you hung up, Melissa wandered to the bedroom, feeling a deep swell of emotions, her fingers brushing over her pocket where a small, carefully hidden velvet box lay. She’d been carrying it around for days, checking it repeatedly, rehearsing the words she wanted to say once you were home again. The plan was all there—she’d wait for a quiet Sunday morning, like the ones she cherished so much, and then she’d ask.

Unable to resist, she pulled one of your shirts from the closet, bringing it close to her nose. The faint scent of you clung to it, bringing her right back to those lazy Sunday mornings that had become her favorite part of your life together.

She let herself imagine it: you, padding out of bed with only your underwear on, your hair a mess and your eyes still heavy with sleep as you’d pull her into a hug from behind. Every time, she’d grumble a bit, pretending she wasn’t as soft as she actually felt in those moments. You’d tug her back into bed with you, insisting on snuggling under the covers while she made her usual complaints about wanting to get up and start the day.

But truthfully, she loved being wrapped up in your arms as the little spoon. She felt a rare kind of safety there, the weight of your arms around her, the warmth of your chest against her back. She’d pretend to make a bad face, grumbling softly, but she’d inevitably relax, letting out the soft snores you always teased her about later.

And then, just when everything felt perfectly peaceful, Sweet Cheeks would start squeaking from the foot of the bed, weaving around your legs in hopes of an early morning cuddle.

Melissa smiled to herself, clutching the shirt close as she pictured the day ahead, wondering how you’d react when you saw her there, waiting to welcome you home—and how your face would look when she finally asked the question she’d been holding in her heart.

The next day, after what felt like an eternity, she drove to the airport, her heart racing with every step. When she finally spotted you through the crowd, her heart just about burst. She didn’t hold back, rushing over and pulling you into a tight hug, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

You held her just as tightly, murmuring, “Missed you too, Mel. So, so much.”

As you made your way back to the apartment, your laughter filled the car, and Melissa soaked in every second of it, feeling like the pieces of her world had finally fallen back into place.

Once home, she proudly led you to the kitchen, where she had your favorite meal prepared and ready, the smell of marinara sauce filling the space. Sweet Cheeks squeaked in delight at the sight of you, and you scooped him up, letting him nuzzle against you in greeting.

After dinner, you settled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other, your sweet guinea pig resting contentedly in his popsicle stick home nearby. The redhead leaned into you, her heart racing again as she reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the small box.

She took a deep breath, turning to you with all the love she’d been waiting to share. “I know it’s just us, and this fella,” she said softly, glancing down with a shy smile. “But… I couldn’t imagine my life without you. So, I was thinking, maybe… we could make this forever?”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, what are you doing?” you gasp confused, while blinking.

She cleared her thoart and kneeled down. “Y/N. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widened as she pulled out the box, revealing the ring she’d been carrying. In that moment, with tears in your eyes, you nodded, pulling her close in an embrace filled with all the quiet love and warmth that had defined your life together.

And as the night wore on, Melissa held you close, feeling finally, deeply at home.

[ashthewaterghoul]

’Cause It Still Makes My Blood Run Cold To Remember What I Did Before - A Banana!Verse One Shot

In the pits, Fire Ghouls were nothing if not warriors; their worth was found in defending and protecting what they held dear while fighting the threat head-on. The latter part may not be possible right now, but if Alpha could keep them all safe, shield them from the torment they’d all been subject to, he would take the looming darkness and become it. His flames were strong enough to stay burning in the dark fog he consumed, yet it just killed him a little more every time he did it. Taking him apart stitch-by-stitch and unravelling him from his very soul outwards. As time went on, he had to wonder when that last stitch would rip open, and he dread to think what the result would be. Or, Alpha has a lot of feelings after mating with Dew, and having to be oh-so-cruel to him to keep him safe from Sister's torment.

Words: 2.6k

Relationships: Alpha/Dew, mentioned Air/Earth and Terzo/Omega

Tags: Angst, feels, nightmares, self-hatred, self-worth issues, mating bond, Alpha needs therapy, suicide by drowning shown in a dream sequence, suicidal thoughts, Alpha is an asshole, but he gets better kinda, one shot, era ii Ghouls wear veils.

Inspired by @anotherbananasong 's amazing universe! I'm like 99% sure this can be read if you're not familiar but obviously I'm going to recommend her blog!!

Title from 'Missing Limbs' by Sleep Token

~~~

    Dew shot upright in a cold sweat that instantly evaporated away against his warm skin. His breathing was frantic, his heart beating from his chest and for the life of him couldn’t focus enough to feel the electricity thrumming along the bond that tied him to Alpha.

    Alpha himself was in his room deep down in the catacombs. It wasn’t the deepest as that belonged to Lake’s subterranean lair, but it was still deep. Alpha too, was deep but in his own mind. His own loathing for himself.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    Alpha did initially detest himself for ruining Dew’s life by mating with him - for desecrating something as precious as the little Fire Ghoul with the sheer and utter monstrosity that was his existence. Yet there was something so tempting and alluring about Dew’s flames dancing in his own soul that made him want to swallow his pride and just be a good mate, asshole-façade be damned.

    But that façade would have to stay for a little while. That Satan-forsaken summons to Sister’s office that would damn him and his mate to years of pain that burned deeper than any flame ever could.

    “If you even go near this mate-”

    “I’m not scared of you, you old hag.”

    “Oh, but you should be, Ghoul. He’s highly unstable right now. No one would question if he didn’t pull through.”

    “If you hurt him…”

    “Secondo and Terzo aren’t here to protect you anymore. Test me, if you’d like.”

    And while Alpha would usually see that and indeed test someone, something about the liveliness bouncing across the bond in his soul made him realise he could never let Sister hurt Dew again. The forced transformation and killing their Papas were more than enough…

    So instead, Alpha would hurt Dew. Bold displays of neglect and disinterest so there was no fuel to add to Sister’s bonfire of tyranny. He’d do everything he could to make sure Dew never fell for him, to push him away, to keep him safe.

    The long nights Alpha would spend sobbing for what he puts Dew through were only mildly comforted by the fact that he was keeping Dew safe. That’s what a good mate did, right? They kept the other safe. So, in a perverse way, Alpha was being a good mate. But then, for a second, he would acknowledge the bond that bound him to Dew and his entire being would be wracked with the desolation and misery that Alpha left the little one in. The biting words, the harsh treatment, the shunning and dismissal and cruelty that Alpha would inflict in what was his best effort to keep Dew safe.

    It worked, and he hated himself for it.

    He translated it onto the rest of his pack too. He’d rip into River for being a cry-baby, he’d contribute to Air’s status as a walking mattress, and poke at Earth for choosing such a used-up Ghoul for his mate. He’d jab at the suffocating void of grief Omega was left in following the brutal demise of Terzo, his favourite Papa and paramour, and Lake... Well, Lake wasn’t really around enough for Alpha to cause much damage which, deep down, he let himself be thankful for.

    In the pits, Fire Ghouls were nothing if not warriors; their worth was found in defending and protecting what they held dear while fighting the threat head-on. The latter part may not be possible right now, but if Alpha could keep them all safe, shield them from the torment they’d all been subject to, he would take the looming darkness and become it. His flames were strong enough to stay burning in the dark fog he consumed, yet it just killed him a little more every time he did it. Taking him apart stitch-by-stitch and unravelling him from his very soul outwards. As time went on, he had to wonder when that last stitch would rip open, and he dread to think what the result would be.

    When Earth beat him up as a “lesson” he just laid back and took it. He knew he deserved it. And he wanted it to be a lesson, he wanted to listen and be able to love Dew. But he couldn’t. Not without risking the little firefly he was trying so hard to protect. Ripping himself apart to keep Dew safe, that was all that mattered. And it certainly mattered more than any silly little feelings Alpha had.

    When news had reached the Ancients that Sister had died, Earth and Air cried in relief that maybe the cruelty the Clergy had subjected them to under her rule could finally end. Alpha took a while before he realised the same could be for him and Dew.

    From that point, he counted down the days until the little one had returned from tour. When he could feel the bond was less stretched with distance, and that Dew was home, he actually found himself smiling for the first time in… years, he realises.

    Out of a habit he knows shouldn’t need to exist anymore, he sneaks from the catacombs in the middle of the night, and up to Dew’s room. Dew had stood in his doorway, vape in hand and looking completely annoyed by Alpha’s mere presence.

    “Alpha, if you’re here to hatefuck, then I’m really not in the mo-”

    But Dew is cut off by the most gentle, yet somehow most passionate kiss Alpha had ever given him. More gentle than their night together before Dew’s last tour with Terzo, or even the night they mated.

    Alpha pulled back and both Fire Ghouls had tears in their eyes.

    It took all of about two seconds before Dew pulled Alpha down by his veil and kissed him again. And Alpha did his best to make up for lost time. He was so gentle and tender with Dew; hailing him like a deity and worshipping him like one too. Treating him so preciously and delicately and with every ounce of love and care his body could muster. Words were never his strong suit, only when they were laced with his Fire and venom, so he said everything with his body instead.

    The moment that Alpha silently opened up his side of the bond completely, for the first time ever in the years it had been there, and Dew could finally feel the outpouring of love and affection that Alpha had been holding for him this whole time, they both cried. The sheer relief on their souls from their bond not painfully weighing them down anymore made their hearts feel so full and their souls whole. Alpha’s eyes may have been misted over with tears, but he’d never forget the look on Dew’s face. He even took his veil off, and Dew cried even more. One smaller hand instantly went up into the larger Ghoul’s dark hair and he pulled him back down to kiss him, desperately holding onto him.

    Alpha’s only words were a repeat of what he hoped Dew had always known is true, “You are so loved.”

    And this time he dared to add, “And by no one more than me.”

    But it wasn’t all smooth sailing from that point. Alpha didn’t know how to be a good mate. He was a shit stain on the universe, and he deserved to be nowhere near Dew. Even the deepest pits of Hell were too kind for him. He found himself slipping into old habits of lashing out, and pushing Dew away, refusing to let such a bright spark drown himself out with Alpha’s atrocious presence.

    Often, Alpha contemplated walking down to Lake’s domain and asking him to take him to rest in the depths. He knows Lake would do it, and even if he didn’t, Alpha would throw himself down and let himself be taken by the current.

    He thought there would be a certain beautiful irony that he would die surrounded by his beloved’s true element, taken from him too soon and too violently. Dew felt his Water be eviscerated by flames, Alpha would feel his Fire suffocated by Water and leaving Dew’s to burn alone by himself. Maybe that would leave a nicer life for the little one.

    But as Dew fell asleep alone one night, that was exactly what he saw. He saw his mate as he was now; confused and scared and not knowing what to do in a whirlpool of distress and loathing - hating himself for how he’s treated his mate and pushing Dew away still. Dew saw him get up, and go down to see Lake.

    “I can’t.” Alpha said, “Take me, please. I can’t live knowing what I’ve done to him.”

    And Lake obliges. He stays completely unglamoured, fins and webbings out so he can have more power in the water. Alpha remains glamoured for the opposite reason. He wants to be weak, because he has been all along. He doesn’t deserve to be strong now, at the end when he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to Sister in the first place. Dew is the one that’s strong, not him. The little light there is down there fades as Alpha’s dragged deeper and deeper down, and his veil comes off and floats up to the surface. Alpha tries to reach for it, because it’s the same colour as Dew’s eyes. But Lake swims and pushes him down faster and faster and Alpha knows he doesn’t deserve that comfort either.

    As Alpha’s lungs burn for oxygen, his chest spasms for relief, all he can think off is the panic and confusion he feels from Dew as he races down to the catacombs, only for Lake to later present him with his mate’s lone veil. And Alpha dares to ask Dew to forgive him before his last ember dies out.

    As Dew woke, he felt as though it was real. That he’d just somehow witnessed his mate’s death through his unconscious. His mind was in such a state of panic that he couldn’t focus enough on the bond that told him Alpha was indeed still alive.

    Dew didn’t bother to put anything on his feet as he raced out of his room in only his boxers and one of Alpha’s t-shirts that was more like a dress on him. He needed to see Alpha. Whether it was him or his body or veil, he had to see him.

    He thinks his runs and sobs and shouts for his mate may have woken up Astra but he’d apologise to Air and Earth later. Alpha’s door was open and the Ghoul himself was part-way out before Dew’s heart could scream anymore.

    “Dew? What’s wrong?” Alpha asked, having felt Dew’s frenzy and sadness bleed down the bond.

    “D- don’t l- l- leave me!” Dew wheezed as he held onto Alpha for dear life, his sprint down to the catacombs combining with his panic leaving him entirely unable to breathe.

    “I’m never leaving you again, little one.” Alpha promised as he held Dew, lifting him up so they could lay in his nest.

    Dew couldn’t stop crying or get his breathing back under control and Alpha was at a loss. He remembered how he saw Earth snuggling into Air once, apparently it helps his anxiety. So, despite the size difference that would be comical in any other situation, Alpha wrapped his arms around Dew’s waist and laid on top of him, with his head on his abdomen and put his weight down so he acted as an assuring and grounding presence. It worked as Dew’s sobs quietened, and his breathing slowed to something more normal. Dew found himself fidgeting with Alpha’s hair and horns also, a mindless habit he didn’t even realise he was doing until he was back in his own body.

    As Dew calmed down and explained his nightmare, Alpha’s fiery blood managed to run cold.

    “It felt s- so real.” Dew whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek to join the rest, voice still shaking with adrenaline and emotions.

    Alpha swallowed thickly, “It wasn’t, I promise, firefly.”

    “Don’t l- let it be real, ever. Please, Alfie?” Dew asked him with big wet eyes.

    Alpha raised himself up from his living-weighted-blanket position and looked straight into Dew’s eyes, a large calloused palm resting on Dew’s cheek.

    “I won’t let it be real.” Alpha affirmed.

    “I have y- you now, and I don’t want t- to lose you, ever. Th- the bond, and having you, I- I never want to go without it again.” The little one said. And he was so painfully little as he curled up against Alpha’s chest, a pointed ear over his heartbeat and a hand over his pec to feel his warm body and steady breathing.

    When Dew’s adrenaline and post-breakdown-exhaustion caught up with him and took him back to sleep in Alpha’ arms, the larger Ghoul just hated himself more.

    For it being something he so often thought about, dare he say fantasised about, and now seeing how it just being a nightmare to Dew hurt him so much, he only despised himself more for thinking he could ever leave Dew in that much pain.

    Once he had promised that he would never make for a good mate, so he would never even try. Now, he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself for all the hurt he caused.

    Dew is the lighthouse in the storm that is Alpha’s self-hatred. Originally, he wanted to hate Dew. For making him feel noticed, for choosing him, for luring him in like the Syren he used to be. Then he wanted to hate Dew for giving him life again, a reason to live, for being the tinder for the dying embers of his soul. Dew became the reason Alpha’s flames could burn so so bright, but then he had to repay it by stamping out Dew’s own.

    Dew had mentioned to Air he almost feels as though he’s Water again. Because he is just the most powerful tidal wave of love for his mate that he never lets up on, and he uses it to slowly corrode away the behemoth of a wall that Alpha’s put up.

    And Dew is so happy now. His flames have been burning brighter than ever as they happily danced alongside Alpha’s. Alpha doesn’t think he could ever bring himself to hurt Dew again, which he knows is a good thing. But Dew forgave him so easily, even without knowing the threat of Sister’s cruelty was the reason behind it all, and Alpha knows it would kill him if he ever betrayed Dew again. Yet now he’s seen how Dew reacts to even just a mirage of his deserving demise; how could he ever even think about putting Dew through the real thing?

    Alpha had desecrated his gift from Lucifer too many times, defiled his pure and beautiful soul with his horrid treatment. He wanted so badly to make up for it, yet he found himself completely unworthy. Despite the long and arduous process of healing they’d both go through, Alpha knows there is always going to be a very loud and obnoxious part of his mind that will always make him hate himself. And while Dew would be there to constantly adore and reassure Alpha - being the tsunami of love to drown anything else out - Alpha would often find himself listening to that obstinate part. Spiralling to the voice of unreason that told him to shut Dew out again because he truly didn’t deserve such a gorgeous little firefly to be his.

    Alpha couldn’t decide what was worse. Dew finding someone who was actually worthy of him, or giving in and loving his mate in every way he deserves and more.

One shot master post can be found here!

[6esiree]

𝟐.𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

(𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞! 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭)

Hey, y’all! So, I just wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you in a crazy little way for the amount of love and support you’ve shown me—and continue to show me—since April. If it weren’t for you guys, I probably would have gone insane a while ago. Seriously, y’all keep me happy with your lovely comments and creative tags you add to your reblogs 😭🫶

Anywho, this giveaway I had in mind is more of a contest because I have less time to write and whatnot. Plus, I’m sure some of y’all would just *love* to return the favor by writing a story for me! (I’m joking, LOL) I regret to inform y’all that there’s only one winner in this situation, but the prize is fantastic, especially for my fellow Alastor simps. I’m giving away a 8 x 10 streamily Alastor poster signed by Amir Talai himself, and it comes with a certificate of authentication, too!

So, if you’re interested, all you have to do is:

⊹ Follow me. I am celebrating my followers, after all!

⊹ Upload an original character x reader story to tumblr that’s at least 2.5k words long and tag me so I can see it. You’re free to surpass this amount! Oh, and if I find out it’s AI written you’re immediately disqualified from the contest.

⊹ I was going to say that it can be about any of the character’s I’ve expressed interest in on my blog, which includes Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, and Adam, but honestly, I recommend you write for Alastor, Human Alastor, or Vox. I love them to bits :P

⊹ It can be fluff, smut, or angst—I do not mind. I’m not really picky about what I read, but if anybody would like to know, I’m a freak who loves tropes and x Gen Z reader stuff.

⊹ I ask of you to not write anything too graphic, though, like gore, vomit, or scat. (If I think of anything else, I’ll add it to this list)

Important: If you have any questions or want to make sure if what you had in mind is okay with me, you’re more than welcome to ask! Also, you have approximately 2 weeks to write your fic. I have a lot on my plate and I’m sure lots of y’all do as well, so I don’t want anyone who decides to join to rush themselves!

The Deadline to upload your fic is 11/21/24!

[dietcokegirly12]

HELLO, I just read your fic called "Trapped" with Poe! omg i loved it, it was the best thing I've read so far. So...I'd love to ask you if you could do another NSFW fic with a fem reader It doesn't matter what it's about as long as it's sweet and has NSFW. Sorry if I didn't specify well 😭 I'm just desperate to read another fic with him, I loved your writing tysm! 💗

“First Time?”

featuring edgar allen poe (,,¬﹏¬,,)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

art credit: pinterest

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ✎ᝰ♡✧˖°🗒 ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── ✎ᝰ

tags: unprotected sex, cervix kissing, premature ejaculation, mention of masturbation, sub!poe, dom!reader, etc etc

word count: 2k

˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡┈┈˚₊‧⁺˖┈┈⋆˙⟡♡

You and Poe had been dating for several months now, ever since you met at a library where he was working on a novel, and had captivated you with his awkward charm and boyish smile.

Immediately, you had begun to flirt with him, and after coming often to the library, eventually asked him out on a coffee date.

Your relationship had soared after that, always going on lavish dates with your doting boyfriend, and him constantly showering you in gifts and as much time as he could spare aside from writing novels where you would have cute little dates at the park, or ice-skating together, and truly he was the perfect boyfriend.

Aside from one minor problem.

You two had never… well had sex.

And you weren’t sure if it was because Poe was too shy to ask, or because he just didn’t want to, but you certainly didn’t want to push him if he was uncomfortable.

Of course, you two had kissed, even made out a few times, but it would never last long, with Poe blushing immensely and having to excuse himself where you wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night.

Hell, you two had never even slept in the same bed.

On the rare occasions, you would sleep over, since he was always insisting on driving you home, he was always up late working, and when you would awake in the morning, he’d be curled up and asleep on the couch, ever the respectful gentleman.

You really didn’t want to believe it had something to do with you, or that you just didn’t appeal to him in that way, but it was getting increasingly harder to hold back as the days went on, and you got more and more pent up.

What you didn’t know was that every night, Poe would furiously fuck his fist, imagining it was your hand pumping up and down, and indulging in the dirty thoughts he had felt about you ever since your first kiss, horny and in need of any kind of release.

He refused, however to rush you in the relationship, conceding that you needed to take it slow, and he didn't need nor want you to feel pressured by him into doing anything you weren't comfortable with. No, you were his angel, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You would think he was starting to lose interest with the way he was almost never home, usually making himself busy with his writing.

Finally, you had enough, and in a last-ditch effort to get him to just touch you, you set up a movie night in his living room, draping the couch with lots of extra blankets and pillows to cuddle in.

"Poeee.. c'mere you've been working so hard, come watch a movie with me." you whine, tugging the raven-haired man closer when he finally came for a break.

He chuckled softly, caressing your cheek. "Okay.. sure, one movie."

You scoot over, so he can sit next to you, sighing internally as he made sure to stay a reasonable distance away, your thighs not even brushing.

As the movie progresses however, you shift closer, eager to put your plan into motion so that he won't be able to ignore you.

Gently, your hand slides up his thigh as you rest your head onto his shoulder, eyes never leaving the screen.

He stiffens slightly under your touch, but stays still, breathing turning slightly heavier.

A couple minutes tick by, and you move your hand slightly higher as you pretend to adjust yourself, until you're practically in his lap, hand dangerously close to where you knew the bulge in his pants was.

And just as your fingertips just barely ghost over him, he jolts like he's been shocked, quickly standing up as he hurries off to his room again, blushing furiously.

"M'sorry! Just remembered.. ah.. I forgot something or.. I need to... my book!"

And then he's gone.

You slump back against the couch, defeated but not ready to give up just yet.

This was going to be harder than you thought.

.˚‧˗ˏˋ ── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚.── 𓃠✎ ⋆⑅˚₊ ── ˎˊ˗‧˚

You genuinely thought that maybe it was something you were doing, or that he just wasn't attracted to you, which didn't make sense, because he told you almost every day how beautiful you were, like a creation straight out of one of his novels.

So, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you went to ask his best friend, his only friend, Ranpo Edogawa.

"Has Poe what?"

You blush, bending closer to the shorter man to whisper something into his shaggy brown hair.

"Has Poe ever had a girlfriend? Or had.. ah.. sex with anyone you would know of?"

Drawing back, Ranpo looks you up and down, smirking, emerald green eyes glinting mischievously. "What, you two haven't...?"

You swallow, shaking your head quickly. "I'm starting to think he doesn't want to..."

Ranpo grabs you quickly then, taking you by surprise as he widens his eyes in pretend shock, leading you to believe he knows more than he's letting on. "Oh, he wants you all right. He's always going on and on about the ways..."

"Ranpo?"

You turn your head, spotting your tall, awkwardly standing boyfriend, rubbing his arm as his gaze flicks over the two of you.

"What are you doing?"

As he steps closer, you quickly untangle yourself from Ranpo whose eyes dart between you both.

"Well, this was fun, but I have to get going back to the Agency. See you, Poe!" And with that, he dashes off, leaving just you and Poe alone.

Poe comes closer, eyes uncertainly scanning yours. "W-what were you doing with him?"

You quickly rush to explain, not wanting your poor boyfriend to think anything less than pure was going on. "Don't worry, baby! I was just asking Ranpo something a-about.. uh.."

He tilts his head. "He was saying something about someone wanting you?"

Sighing internally, knowing you weren't going to get away from this without an explanation, you quickly say in a rush,"Iwasaskinghimifyou everhadsex!"

He freezes at that, body going completely stock-still as his face flushes as it usually does when he gets flustered or embarrassed.

You quickly rush to apologize. "I'm so sorry. And I should've asked you but I.."

"No, it's fine." He cuts you off, voice strained and eyes unreadable as he gazes down at you.

Worried since you had never seen him make that expression, you reach for his hand, squeezing slightly. "Sorry. Let's just go home."

He nods numbly, and trails behind you as you lead both of you back to his apartment.

┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆📜⋆. ˚｡⋆࿔♡✎ᝰ┈⋆ ˚｡⋆

The whole walk back, you're thinking about ways to apologize for invading his space like that, feeling horrible. He's silent, simply holding your hand and seemingly lost in thought as his mind is elsewhere.

You imagine the worst. He hates you, is already thinking of ways to distance himself, thinks you're disgusting and a pervert, and... oh you're making yourself sick with the thought, wants to break up.

You prepare to make an apology as you shakily unlock the door, turning slightly to face him. "Poe, I'm truly so sorry-"

But you don't get to finish before his lips are clumsily smashing against yours, rough and unyielding as for the first time, he kisses you with passion, rather than his usual hesitance.

He licks the bottom of your lip softly and as you whimper softly in response, takes it as an invitation to mold his hot tongue to yours, pushing you back gently through the door, and closing it with a slam with his foot.

Gasping for breath, he draws away from your mouth barely enough to lift your hips onto the counter behind you, clumsily fumbling with the buttons of your shirt as he connects his desperate mouth back against yours,

"Fuck.. waited so.. mmph.. long. I just never thought you wanted to.. I didn't wanna rush.. ah fuck.."

He breaks off in an obscene moan, one you had never heard before, and one you never wanted to stop hearing, as your hands run lightly over his pants, trying to unbutton as fast as you can.

His head tilts back, beautiful hair falling back to reveal his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, eyelashes fluttering softly.

Pushing his pants down past his hips, you finally reveal the pale, twitching cock you had been dreaming of for so long, slender and oh-so long, tip glossy with pre-cum and prominent veins tracing prettily all along him.

He shudders as you finally grip him, instinctively pumping up and down as his hips shift forward, a lewd groan slipping out of him.

"Please.. ngh.. c-can't wait.. wan' feel you."

His nimble hands come to tug lightly at your pants, clearly wanting them off, and you're all too eager to comply, undressing to reveal yourself, completely bare in front of him for the first time, full breasts and laced panties showing just how soaked you were for him.

He groans at the sight, hands shakily reaching for you again as he lifts you up to straddle him, hands immediately finding the plush of your thighs and breasts, gently squeezing everywhere he can reach, all too eager after being denied for so long of you.

And you just can't wait any longer, the throbbing in your sopping cunt becoming so intense, you feel as if you might die if he isn't inside you soon.

"Here Poe, jus' stay still.."

He grunts softly, hips jerking as his tip nudges at your entrance, you slowly sinking down on him, wincing as he stretches you so perfectly.

Before he's even halfway in, though, he's cumming, spurts of hot, white ribbons filling you up so filthily, so much of it that it begins to seep out of you, your mouth wide and head thrown back as you shudder at the feeling.

"Poe..." you gasp out, chest heaving. "Did you just...?"

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly in embarrassment, a small whine leaving his throat as you finally manage to sink all the way down, his length throbbing desperately inside you.

His hands come to fit over your hips, long fingers splaying across you as he practically pleads with you. "Fuck! M'sorry! Lemme make it up to you, doll!"

That being his only warning, he starts to bounce you up and down on his cock, tip brushing your cervix with every thrust as you moan softly, tugging on his hair as small cries of his name rush out of you.

He bounces you quicker, and reaches a hand down to explore over your cunt, fingers slightly uncoordinated, but learning fast as he quickly finds your clit, tracing over it sloppily.

Your eyes shut and a small whine escapes you as your hips instinctively buck forward, tightening around him, the slight angle change enough for him to hit even deeper into your snug walls.

He grunts, thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy as he prods at the squishy spot deep inside you that makes you squeal, your stomach coiling tighter with every thrust.

"Poe.. m'close.. m'close.. hah.. fuck m'cumming!"

And with that being your only warning, your cunt sucks him deeper as your walls ripple and tighten, syrupy arousal coating your thighs as you finally reach your high, white-hot blurring your vision.

"Fuck!" He curses before spilling more ropes of cum into you, being so full of him at this point you can barely breathe, every movement eliciting more of his cum to drip out from between your thighs obscenely.

You collapse onto his chest, sticky against him as your breath heaves, hair sweaty on your forehead.

After a few moments, he gently kisses your forehead, trying to relax but still restless under you, shifting slightly. "Fuck..."

"What is it?" You breathe, one hand coming to comb through his soft hair fanning across you.

It's just then that you feel something hard prodding into you again, before Poe's shy voice speaks up, his hips shifting to grind against you slightly.

"Can we.. do that again, maybe?"

[synthsamuri]

Omega-verse/ ABO 19 Days Fics Here's a compilation of some of the omega-verse fics I've read from this fandom per request. If you have any to add please do! (I know I may be missing some as not all I've read are tagged omega-verse or ABO!)

Transparent Soul by Daiako (Achrya) Guan Shan goes from beta to omega after the incident with She Li. This takes He Tian and Guan Shan’s relationship to the next level.

I aim low, I aim true also by Daiako (Achrya) Another fic about the concept of shifting into an Omega. Guan Shan gets really upset and blames it on He Tian and their connection.

Push/Pull by bachtoreality This author has a few ABO fics! They're all fun and spicy! Omega? (19 Days He Tian/Mo) by Dee_Was_Here0000 Another one where Guan Shan is an omega pretending to be a beta. Is it obvious that I like this trope yet?

Huaxia by i_got_these_words Sexy times with a bit of world building. Prince and prisoner dynamic.

¿Por qué tú? {19 Days - Omegaverse} by IreneBN If you're an english reader like myself, you may feel deterred by having to read a translated fic, but if you're looking for an LONG omega-verse fic with ALL of the 19 days characters and relationships, then this is the fic for you.

Stranger by Taetaebaby96 This is part one of a three part series. I really like part one. The other parts are not for me as I find kids and pregnancy to be icky. But, if you're into that, then you'll enjoy!

Remedy by 6DonMatteo9 He Tian and Jian Yi return, She Li is a bitch. What's not to like?

Effervescence by sekyo_2862 Marriage tropes usually also give me the ick but not this one. Arranged marriage, super sweet.

Mark My Love by ria_green Alpha x Alpha and done SO WELL. I love this fic.

Can you? by Miharo She Li tries to mark Guan Shan, He Tian makes it better

opposites by dainuhsoar Guan Shan pretends to be an alpha and its done very well. (I will say, the only thing I really struggled with this fic is that its written in all lowercase)

[holylulusworld]

BFG (10)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, fluff, love confessions

Catch up here: BFG (9)

BFG masterlist

Legend: Y/M/N = Your mother's name Y/F/N = Your father's name

Frances left after she was sure Reacher came back to stay, and that he wouldn't leave again. You watched them say goodbye. Reacher nodded at Neagley and silently thanked her while she awkwardly looked at him.

You got that both, Neagley and Reacher are not fans of showing emotions or hugs. Still, you knew the moment you saw them interact for the first time that they shared a special kind of friendship.

“Have a safe trip home,” you didn’t shake her hand or hug her. Not because you didn’t want to, though. You figured that Neagley doesn’t like physical contact, and respected her personal space. “If you ever come back, you have a place to stay and free cereals.”

She smiled and nodded. “You better keep Mayor Reacher in line. He can be hard to handle but is a protective giant. He’ll be good to you and the baby.” She leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “If he gets antsy, give me a call. I’ll set him straight.”

You giggled and wished her well. Holding back the urge to hug her, you watched Neagley enter her car and drive away. “What did she say?” Reacher asked. “Y/N?”

“Oh, she wanted me to take good care of you, and your stomach,” you chuckled and patted his belly. “How can you stay so fit, and eat that much at the same time?”

“I’m a big guy,” he said and looked down at his body. “Ma always said I grew big and strong for a reason.” He lifted his big hands to look at them. “Maybe she was right.”

“I know she was right,” you said and took his hands to place them on your belly. “You grew big and strong enough to hold your baby one day.”

Reacher smiled at your words. He nodded, eyes glued to his hands on your belly. You didn’t show yet, but he already imagined you swollen with his child. The baby wasn’t planned, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

“So, did you think about names already?” Reacher looked up from the assembly instructions of the new cradle you bought. “Reacher?”

“Uh—no,” he said, surprised that you wanted him to think of a name. Reacher didn’t expect to have a say in this. “Do you already know what we’re having?”

“Not yet,” you said and stepped closer to Reacher. The giant sat on the ground; long legs stretched out to read the assembly instructions. “It’s too soon.”

You looked around the room you wanted to turn into a nursery. Reacher already cleaned out the former guestroom and painted the walls in neutral colors.

Reacher followed your eyes, grinning as you admired the teddy bear he painted on the wall. You had no clue he could draw. “I’m finished with the wardrobe and the diaper-changing table. I am trying to build the cradle now. It seems a few screws are missing.”

“How about a break? You worked all morning,” you softly said, and ran your hand over his shoulders. “I made lunch. Sally Ann and the new girl take care of the diner today. I have the day off and we could talk about baby names.”

“My ma’s name was Josephine,” he said, eyes saddening. “Maybe Joseph for a boy. My brother would be over the moon, or not. He wasn’t very emotional.”

You smiled and sat down next to him to pat his thigh. “I like both. Josephine Y/M/N for a girl, and Joseph Y/F/N for a boy. We can decide after finding out about the gender in a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Reacher shoved the food you made into his mouth, groaning as he couldn’t get enough. “You’re a great cook too.”

“You hit the jackpot.” You winked at Reacher before putting more mashed potatoes and another steak on his plate. “Eat up, I got dessert too.”

Reacher licked his lips, already imagining something sweeter than dessert. He’d wait until he finished the nursery, of course. “What will we get for dessert?”

“I tried a new variation of my peach pie. You can have whipped cream too.” He kept on praising your food. You sighed all the while watching him eat. “If you don't want to eat peach pie again, I can make a cherry pie or apple pie.”

“I love your peach pie,” he murmured while eating more mashed potatoes. “And your pie tastes great too.”

“You’re naughty,” you giggled and threw your napkin at him. Reacher easily caught the napkin and wiped his mouth clean. “I like it.”

He laughed, deep and rich as you dreamily looked at the giant of a man. Who would’ve thought he’d stay and raise a child with you when he walked into your diner for the first time?

Tags in reblog.

[yukiwhitetm]

5 Tim Drake-centric Must Reads

I like Tim Drake-centric fanfictions for two main reasons, although Dick Grayson is actually my favourite Robin. Firstly, Tim reminds me a lot of Peter Parker (a genius, photographer, teenage superhero with a billionaire superhero mentor who is also a father-figure to them), who is probably my favourite superhero of all time. Secondly, the big thing I love about the Batman fandom is the Bat Family (aka BatFam). I adore the sibling relationship between the characters, always just want to them be close brothers/sisters. That is why my Batman fic recommendations are Tim Drake-centric. Because during and after Tim's time as Robin we have a larger BatFam. It's the family element.

1.

A Meditation on Railroading by eggmacguffin

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types  

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, Complete Work

13 Jan 2022

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne

Tim Drake, Jack Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne

Bad Parent Jack Drake, Child Abuse, Trains, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Crying, Gaslighting, Coming Out, Hurt/Comfort, Family

Summary:

When he ends up ditched in Atlanta after a fight with his dad, Tim decides to do the only sensible thing: Tell no one and make the 800 mile journey back to Gotham on his own.

Because the "call Batman when you're in trouble" rule only applies when he's Robin, right?

Language: English Words: 24,696 Chapters: 5/5

Yuki Note:

If you only ever read two Batman fanfictions, then let this be the second one (The Long Way Home being the first). This is an excellent representation of gaslighting, manipulation and mental and emotional child abuse (by Jack Drake to Tim Drake) and how it can effect an adolescent child. This is such a brilliant fanfiction – highly recommended!

2.

The Long Way Home by itsnatalie

Fandoms:Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics)  

Not Rated, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gen, Complete Work

25 Jun 2023

Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members

Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Reconciliation, Hurt/Comfort, Lazarus Pit Madness (not current. Mentioned in the past)

Summary:

With Jason tentatively back in the Batfamily, things are going pretty well for him--except for the whole thing with Tim. But who gives a shit about Tim Drake?

But when Jason and Tim are pulled into a frightening race for their lives inside a labyrinth that's out to kill them, they may have to look past their differences just to stay alive. Maybe along the way, they'll discover they aren't as different as they thought, and family comes in many different forms.

Language: English Words: 111,685 Chapters: 13/13

Yuki Note:

This is one of the best fanfictions I have ever read. This is written so well that it could be a published novel. However, before reading this please be aware of the horror elements throughout the story as well as the canon typical injuries, near death experiences and past mentioned child abuse in here (not by Bruce). If you only ever read one Batman fanfiction, then let it be this one.

3.

Scientific Method by vogon_poet

Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling  

General Audiences, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gen, Complete Work

04 Jul 2021

Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Hermione Granger, Tim Drake & Severus Snape, Tim Drake & Fred & George Weasley, Tim Drake & Tom Riddle

Tim Drake, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts cast, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tom Riddle

Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, BAMF Tim Drake, Tim Drake is a Wizard, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Jack and Janet Drake's A+ Parenting, Slytherin Tim Drake, Everyone from Gotham is lowkey scary, Magical Theory, Bigotry & Prejudice, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake looks like a cinammon roll and is a cinammon roll, but will hurt you if you're racist, Activist Hermione Granger

Summary:

It’s not like he’s surprised a magic school exists— that’s probably only a seven on the scale of “crazy things Tim Drake has seen”. No, Tim’s just surprised he’s enrolled.

Part 1 of Scientific Method

Language: English Words: 133,507 Chapters: 46/46

Yuki Note:

A really fun read! Ever wanted a brilliantly clever and magical Tim Drake who is also able to see the future? Well, then this one is for you! This story covers Tim’s first and second year (he skips a year so if I recall correctly he skips to third year after his first year) and is a Fix It Fic for A Death In The Family. There is also a sequel fic in the works. Recommended!

4.

cards on the table by wesslan

Fandoms:Batman - All Media Types  

Not Rated, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gen, Complete Work

10 Jan 2024

Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Alfred Pennyworth

Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Tim Drake is Not a Batfamily Member, Fortune Telling, Tarot, Found Family, Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Doesn't he always, tim is a fortune teller, Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Late, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Divination, tim drake is a hustler, author saw ghost (1990) and somehow here we are???, Absent Parents, Stalker Tim Drake, Underage Drinking, Stephanie Brown Appreciation, Murder and violence, just a little bit, Hypothermia, Light Angst, Lies, like so much lying, Unreliable Narrator

Summary:

Tim's parents faked their deaths and fled the country years ago, but neglected to take him with them. He spent some time on the streets, and now at 16, he makes a living as a fortune teller, stalking and hustling the shit out of Gotham's elite by telling them eerily accurate fortunes based on the information he gathers about them.

His life is peculiar but he wouldn't change a thing. When he gets booked for the big Wayne Halloween party, however, he finds himself getting all tangled up with the Waynes, and the more fortunes he tells, the tighter the snare becomes.

or: Tim just wanted to scam Gotham's elite, not end up on the Batfamily's watchlist. But it seems they just won't leave him alone..

Language: English Words: 69,788 Chapters: 30/30

Yuki Note:

This has been on a lot of BatFam rec lists lately and for good reason! This is a fantastic read, a very fun and smart idea of how Tim could join the BatFam late. I really like that this Tim is a bit more down and out whilst still remaining quintessentially him (I just think it’s great that he and Jason and Steph have more to relate to one another to). I am here for all the sibling content so I love this! Highly recommended!

OK. I am disabled and am becoming very fatigued so I’m only going to recommend one more in this post, however I have a full list of 72 Batman fandom recommendations on my AO3 account here. (Please note that three of these are JayTim, however that is under the caveat that they are set in AUs where they were never adopted brothers and are great fanfictions.)

5.

The Ruination Of Responsibility by Moxibustion (RyuuzaKochou)

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)  

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, Complete Work

26 Apr 2020

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Barbara Gordon

Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Past Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Pre-Tim Drake/Jason Todd, If You Squint - Freeform, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Reconciliation, Extravaganza Week At The Wayne Manor, Female Tim Drake, TW: Mention Of An Offscreen Past Sexual Assault, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Non-Linear Narrative, Hurt Tim Drake

Summary:

It's Extravaganza Week at the Manor. Anything you want, anything you can dream of, as long as it's fun, fun, fun!

Timianna Drake has a somewhat fabulously complicated relationship with fun.

Language: English Words: 89,433 Chapters: 23/23

Bookmarker's Tags: Minor Character Death, Suicide

Yuki Note (from original bookmark):

I was hesitant when I went into this story, mostly because of the gender change for Tim/Timi. I am not against gender changes in stories but I find they need a point, a purpose, a reason for the change. But there is a point to Timi being a woman in this story, as it deals with the challenges, discrimination and sexism that she has to deal with in the corporate and hero world.

I really enjoyed the corporate storyline since few stories actually deal with Timi's work and the challenges therein. The family storyline is great too and I love how everything comes to a head and forces Bruce and Dick to face their failures and finally, finally do something about them. Highly recommended!

P.S. Don't worry about the Pre-Jason/Tim tag on this story. There is literally no Jason/Tim at all, in fact they don't even interact any more than Tim interacts with Cass, Steph or Dick. This is 100% Jason&Tim, a close sibling bond.

Trigger Warning: This is presently not tagged on the story but should be. It is mentioned that a minor recurring character commits suicide in the story. You don't see it, it is only mentioned. To those who find suicide triggering, be aware of this.

Enjoy! And feel free to explore my full AO3 rec list here.

[unknownati]

iii. her new friend.

a/n: im alive i wrote this months ago and i HAAATE it but i wanna post something so maybe ill get back into writing🤷🏾‍♀️ i lowkey cringe reading it 😭 may delete later!

warnings/tags: loosely (very loosely) inspired by the beginning of green eyes by erykah badu, jealousy, no reader description, communication, not good communication but it's still there, disagreement/argument(kinda), ends fluffy (and a LIIIIITTLE SUGGESTIVE A LITTLE), reader stands on big bidness until the end, lowercase intended, BARELY PROOFREAD AS ALWAYS 🔥🔥, self indulgent tbh, also suck at endings just shhh 😊

______________________________________________

you hated her.

well, not her. you hated how abby acted around her.

she was new; just recently started to stay at the wlf stadium.

and she was so pretty, you didn't know about 'prettier than you', but she was really pretty. her skin was glassy, her eyes lashes were so naturally long, her hair looked so nice in any style, everything.

it's not that you didn't have what she did or hated her just for existing. you were sure she was super sweet, talented, all of it. in fact, when you first met her you thought she was fantastic. but something about her being paired with abby made your eye twitch.

but abby seemed so much more...lively around her.

at first, you wondered if it was just you. maybe you were overreacting? you tried to brush it off until you heard somebody passing by call them a cute couple. abby didn't say anything either, just laughed.

you did try to bring it up too. of course not your exact thought, you tried to be nice about it since you assumed she didn't realize what she'd been doing.

"abby, i feel like you've been hanging out with your friend a lot more than you've been with me. not that you can't be with your friend, but y'know...'m here too."

and she chuckled, kissed your cheek, and just whispered a cute little "okay, 'm sorry," in your ear.

after that, she kept up with you for about a week. and then she went right back to her new little friend.

no biggie, at this point you were fed up. you tried a couple times to bring it up again, each time getting more honest and honest just to be met with a similar response.

you didn't care anymore. if she wants to hang out with her, so be it.

"'morning," she leaned over the couch and kissed your cheek, admiring your pretty face. "me and jade are gonna go play with the dogs."

nothing new, but every time you heard her name you felt you were going to explode. "mhm,"

you felt abby still lingering over your shoulder, waiting for another response. usually you'd tell her to 'have fun', 'be safe' if it was patrol duty.

"..you okay?" she leaned further down to be within your line of vision, her hands gripping the back of the couch. when you just nodded she paused, wondering if she should even say anything. she was so confused, why were you upset?

she walked around the side to sit next to you, too close. the contact made you huff, scoot away. she scoffed in disbelief. "what's wrong?"

you forced a smile onto your face and turned to face her, shaking your head. "nothing? go ahead, be with your friend," you waved your hand, turning back to the window. abby's eyebrows twitched. you looked back, eyeing her up and down. "..what?"

"why'd you word it like that?" she asked, her eyes darting to the side and then back onto your face.

"like what? what'd you want me to say?"

"i don't know...it's just--i just feel like you're mad at me." she did that dumb thing with her eyes, slightly tilting her head and looking at you like a sad dog. you knew it was never on purpose, and somehow that made it worse. she had that nervous smile on her face too.

"wonder why? 't's not like i haven't tried bringing it up for the past few weeks."

"what?" her face contorted into one of confusion.

"what?" you raised your brows.

"can you just talk to me?"

"clearly i've tried."

"then talk to me again...please."

you took a deep breath, feeling like a broken record.

"it doesn't even matter at this point. i told you, time after time, i feel like you're with jade more than you're with me. it literally didn't feel like you wanted me, i didn't feel like i was good enough for you. it's like at this point, if you want her, just have her. it's not like you two aren't already practically dating. you didn't listen, but it's fine, i don't care anymore, i'm over it, literally just go."

abby felt like she just got hit with a brick.

"do you think i want her? like, want to date her?" abby watched you groan, stand up and stretch your back, completely ready to just walk away from the conversation. you weren't about to be accused of being jealous on this fine thursday morning. "☆, seriously. is that what you think? i wouldn't replace you for anything, i'm sorry, i didn't--"

"ooooh my god. just go, dude. it's fine."

"it's not fine, though. and did you just call me dude?"

you huffed, about to blow up at her when you felt her grab the hem of your pants to pull you back towards her. "i'm sorry, okay? i mean it. i love you, not her, i didn't realize how much it was upsetting you. i'll stop."

your throat burned, brows furrowed. you almost stopped her when she pulled you into her lap, almost. the warmth of her arms wrapped around you was what made you stop. "i told you multiple times. why didn't you listen?"

"i don't know. i thought i was hanging out with her less."

before you could even start, you felt her littering your face and neck with kisses, her arms squeezing you tighter. it was so annoying to not be able to stay mad at her no matter how hard you tried, and you rolled your eyes. you reached up and pulled her in for a kiss, a proper one, one that you deserved.

"let me make it up to you, please?" she asked, one of her hands dropping to reach up your shirt and gently rub circles into your side.

"what about jade?"

"she can wait."

[missadlerpasserina]

Any Peter Parker in Gotham fic recs, other than dark matter or Peter the pizza guy? I’m hungry and just discovered these… thank you 😊

*joint cracking sounds*

You have no idea how happy you made me by asking this :)

The Peter Parker Theory

By nicfics

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50603350/chapters/127830601

☾⋆⁺₊

A wish of survival

By Chaotic_aroace

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55528810/chapters/140921743

☾⋆⁺₊

Peter Parker needs a hug (from the BatFamily)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3189426

☾⋆⁺₊

Like Real People Do

By Phoenfatale

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50215504/chapters/126825766

☾⋆⁺₊

Set Naked On Your Kingdom

By sassydandelion

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46408882/chapters/116846806

☾⋆⁺₊

A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back)

By Vivia_wants_boba

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49842712/chapters/125822029

☾⋆⁺₊

What's in the name

By ilike_color

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49833709

☾⋆⁺₊

If Violence is a Virtue ( You Must Be a Saint)

By D3ADP00L

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50155738/chapters/126666097

☾⋆⁺₊

Leap of Faith (Catch Me, If You Can)

By alighterwood, ErinWantsToWrite

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54620467/chapters/138404701

☾⋆⁺₊

Dumpster Diving for Treasure

By Clovrtree

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53735629/chapters/136028710

☾⋆⁺₊

Butler Spider

By Danny_shells

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48337528/chapters/121913095

☾⋆⁺₊

Where could I go?

By know_where_usa

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55644937/chapters/141240538

☾⋆⁺₊

The Peter Parker Theory is my absolute favorite after Dark Matter, so I highly recommend you go for that one first. It has a lot of mystery, kida a thriller detective type of fic. It's just *chef kiss*

Aaaaaand I haven’t finished Where could I go? But till now, I've loved the damn fic. It's Peter in Gotham but the Joker finds Peter first. So don't forget to read the tags.

I hope you enjoy them! And if you want to scream over them I'm happy to talk ✨️

[dsireland86]

Hi am sorry for Bothering you but can you do one of nick Folio and he and yn Has been married for long time and he noticed something off and she wakes up In the middle of the night because of pts dreams of sexual assault and he comfort her

First, you're never a bother for putting a request in, no matter how many times. (don't get me wrong, there are limits and lines not to reach or cross) This is a good one. I had a friend who had to deal with something like this and her boyfriend was her biggest support. As a victim of sexual assault myself, I know what it feels like.

There are warnings with this one, so if anyone still deals with trauma, please don't read.

18+ below the cut

You're Safe Now

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers

The dreams were always the same. The results were always the same; sitting straight up in bed, cold sweats, crying, shaking, the whole deal.

She's had them ever since I married her two years ago. The first night it happened, it really rattled me. She wouldn't let me touch her, only huddled up and cried until she fell back asleep. I tucked her in and curled up beside her, watching her eyes flutter beneath her closed eyelids. When morning came, she didn’t remember what happened; at least that’s what she said. 

This went on for some time. I never asked questions, I was just there. Eventually, she allowed me to touch her; small circles on her back, caressing the back of her hair, until she would fall over and into my lap and fall back asleep. It was a small step, but a great improvement.

After about a year into our marriage, though, things took a turn. Our sex life started to shift. She was no longer into it, excited about it or needing it like I was. I felt horrible each time I tried to get her in the mood or aroused. She would make excuses or purposely make herself unavailable.

Some nights, it felt forced, but she was never mean about it. She would tell me she was doing it for me and that her disinterest in it didn't mean she didn't love me. I believed her, but it hurt just the same. I tried to be understanding as best as I could, but at the same time, my heart was hurting.

I begged her to open up and talk to me, to let me in and help, but she wouldn't. So, I took a step back with hope that eventually she'd open up to me, but when that moment came, what she confessed was not at all what I was prepared to hear, but it made sense and everything about her, between us, became clearer.

She gasped and sat up in bed, soaked in a cold sweat. At first, she didn't know where she was. Through the dark, she felt around her as if searching for something or someone, sighing when she finally felt it.

Folio stirred in his sleep, turning over instantly the moment he felt her hand on his back and the soft whispers of his name.

"Nick, wake up, please," she nudged him gently.

"I am, sweetheart, I'm awake," he said sleepily. "What's wrong?"

Folio sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, quickly turning back to his wife, who was sitting with her knees pulled up into her, shivering. He caressed her back gently, just like many times before, feeling utterly exhausted. Folio sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nick, we need to talk."

"Okay, sure. What about?"

She turned to him, tears streaming down her face.

"About my past."

Folio sat the cup of tea down carefully on the table in front of her. The steam coming off of it was clearly visible as she thanked him, then wrapped her hands around the hot mug, sighing and closing her eyes in relief from the warmth.

He sat there quietly, watching her intently, wondering what it was about her past that could be so important. She cleared her throat and finally met Nick's gaze, eyes already swelling up with tears.

Her heart was breaking over how badly she'd been treating him, knowing that none of what happened to her years ago was his her husband's fault. And yet, despite how horrible she felt she'd been to him, he stayed by her, supporting and loving her.

"Nick, I'm sorry. I've been so unfair to you the past few months. I've... I've denied you things that, as my husband, are rightfully yours, and you've never once questioned me or pushed me away. Why?"

Folio scratched his nose and rubbed his jaw, trying to find the words that would make sense to her.

"I love you. I made promises to you. Till death do us part, right," he chuckled, smiling lightly at her. "You're my person, babe," he reached over and took her hand, which she gladly gave him.

Taking a deep breath, she relaxed a little, confident that Nick was going to be understanding about what she was about to tell him.

"Talk to me, sweetheart. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Two years before we met, I had this group of friends; three guys and two girls. It was a summer thing, you know the kind where it’s the last summer of high school together before graduation and you wanted it to be a summer to remember, kind of thing. We hung out every chance we got. Two of them were somewhat couples. They made out, had sex, you know, did all the normal teenage stuff. I wasn't like that, I was too shy and uncomfortable with myself, my body, and so inexperienced that I just kept to myself in those awkward moments."

Glancing at her husband, she gave him a half-hearted smile as he reached over and wiped away the single tear that slid down her cheek.

"My, my look how far you've come, my little mouse," Folio grinned. “Not so inexperienced now, are you?”

His pet name for her lightened her heart to the point that she got up and sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"I've missed you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I know you don't understand."

Folio brushed stray hairs out of her face.

"Then help me understand. Keeping going."

"Okay, so one night while our other friends were doing what they were doing, the other guy in our group, the one that I wasn't the most familiar with, began to notice me. He made some passes at me and made me feel at ease. I was so vulnerable and didn't know anything about guys, so when he told me I was pretty, that I had so much to offer guys, I believed him."

She paused, lowering her head. Folio was starting to catch on.

"Did he hurt you?"

"...Yes."

"Fuck," Folio sighed. "For how long?"

"... ... ... the remaining three weeks of summer break."

Folio clenched his jaw, shaking his head.

"Did he rape you?"

"No... at least I don't think so."

Folio took her by the shoulders, staring her hard in the eyes.

"What do you mean you don't think so?"

She shrugged.

"He touched me, made me do things to him, and if I did well, he'd reward me."

Folio ran his hand down his face, trying to reel in his anger.

“What a sick piece of shit. Did he fuck you without your consent?"

She was quiet, unable to look at him now. She was terrified that her husband was angry with her for hiding this, for holding back on telling him.

"One night, we had all been drinking way too much. I remember I was so dizzy that I literally fell into the couch at the place we were hanging out at. All I remember is being picked up and laid back down. I woke up the next morning in just my panties and shirt. "

By now, she was crying. It was one thing to say it to herself, in her mind, but it was another thing to finally confess it all out in the open.

Folio pulled his wife into his chest, holding tightly close. The fact that the whole time they'd been dating and married, she carried this burden around with her, completely and utterly alone. It broke his heart that the girl he was madly in love with had to suffer that way in silence because of fear.

"What triggered all of this; the dreams, the ptsd from all of that mess?"

"I saw him. It was about a month and a half ago. He's married, too, and has two kids. He looked right at me and either didn't recognize me or pretended not to know me. It's like he saw right through me. I can't explain how it made me feel, Nick. It broke me."

More tears fell, and she was trembling, not from the cold, but from the stress of it all. Her crying turned into silent sobs, and her shoulders shook as she bent over in the chair, dropping her head into her hands.

It all made sense to Folio now, piecing together the details, and when she started acting so strange. She'd been triggered by the memories that she'd worked so hard to suppress and forget about through the years since it all happened, and it affected her in ways she never expected. She was a ticking time bomb to a mental breakdown.

Folio dropped to his knees in front of her, placing his hands gently on the sides of her legs. He sat there for a moment, not knowing what to say at first. He just laid his forehead against her knees, listening to her cry out her pain. After a few moments, he looked up after she'd grown quiet.

"Baby, look at me."

She raised her eyes, looking at her husband through blurry eyes. There he was, the only man that mattered, the only man who truly loved her for her, no matter her past.

Folio's eyes darted between his wife's as she stared back at him. The past was the past, yes, but what was the reason why she pushed him away?

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I don't know. I guess all I wanted to do was forget about it, and I suppose for a long time I did. The past was the past; I couldn't change any of it."

She wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Nick. I'm sorry I pushed you away and made you feel unloved. I never meant to. I was just scared."

Folio's brows creased as he frowned in confusion.

"Scared of what?"

"That you'd be upset with me for keeping something like that from you, or that you wouldn't understand, or that you'd tell me it's what I deserved because of the scenario I put myself in. I was a stupid, naive kid. I didn't know any better."

Folio shook his head, rising up on his knees, taking her face in his hands.

"That's what your dad and brother did to you, isn't it? They didn't really believe you."

She nodded, tearing up again.

Folio's heart sank. He clenched his jaw to suppress his anger.

"Sweetheart, listen to me. What happened to you was not your fault, do you understand me? It wasn't your fault. That piece of shit deserves to burn in fucking hell for what he did to you.

I would never, in a million years, say anything like what your dad and brother said. They were wrong; so wrong. They should have defended you, protected you, and I'm so sorry that they didn't."

Folio choaked up, trying to hold back his tears. He pulled his wife into him, gathering her up in his arms and holding her as close to him as possible. She clung to him, burying her face in the side of his neck, finally feeling secured wrapped up in the arms of the man who promised to love her forever.

"You're safe now, baby; I promise you. No one's gonna ever hurt you like that again."

Pulling away from her, Folio brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her.

"You believe me, right?"

"Yes. I believe you," she nodded, giving him a small smile.

He held her again, and she gratefully allowed him to, both of them finally feeling the peace they'd been craving for. 

[lucigoo]

Weekly roundup: 1st August - 31st August

(I know its technically a month, but like the last one, its just until I catch up lol)

I wrote 13 fics in August, totalling 88,453 words so im pretty proud of that.

As always, recs first and then my fics under the cuts <3

Ringbearers - CQueen - The Hobbit (2012) (Bilbo/Thorin, aftelrife shennigans!!!!)

Summary: Having crossed over to the afterlife together Frodo decides to play matchmaker and insists that he and his uncle must go on an adventure together. What do they seek? Why his uncle's long dead friends, particularly Thorin Oakenshield.

Washing Day - StupidFatPenguin - The Hobbit - All Media Types (Bilbo/Thorin, Viking au!)

Summary: “What do you mean you bathe more than once per season?”

After only a short while of travelling with his heathen captors, Bilbo discovers that the tales of the fearsome, filthy and savage Northmen from his childhood might be much closer to great inaccuracy than the actual truth.

Dwalin Guards Thorin's Heart - SunnyRose - The Hobbit - All Media Types (Bilbo/Thorin, Dwalin & Bilbo, as always, @sunnyrosewritesstuff's fics are amaing!)

Summary: After the Carrock, Thorin pulls Dwalin aside asking him to protect his One from harm. Dwalin had no idea how difficult a task this was going to be, but the Burglar is an accident magnet!

The Tweed Fairy - lisellelascelles - The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) (Bilbo/Thorin, I rarely read smut, but when i do, its usually @lisellelascelles as it i smut with feelings, the only kind I like, and I adore this one!)

Summary: After working in the States for more than a decade, Thorin goes back to England to help his recently widowed older sister, and reconnect with his extended family. It’s early summer, the UEFA championship is firing up, and everyone meets in the local pub to watch the historic England vs. Scotland match. There he sees a small fellow all dolled up with tweed trousers and braces and a ridiculous retro football T-shirt underneath. He mocks him, coming across as a massive twat and a bigot to boot, without knowing the man is his cousin’s boyfriend’s best friend. When he later has an opportunity to redeem himself, what can he do but grab it and squeeze it…?

Take me as I am - phiaura - The Witcher (TV) (Geralt/Jaksier, please mind the tags, but it is SO good!)

Summary: Thus, a deal was struck, a treaty agreed upon. Rivia would not take military action against any allied kingdom and in turn, the kingdoms would provide the king of Rivia with a consort. So far, that last bit was the part of the treaty that had gone to shit. As far as Jaskier had understood, up to now the White Wolf had turned down all the proffered brides. If a consort was not approved, the treaty would be null and void.

Where Jaskier is the last chance of fulfilling the requirements of a treaty between the warlord of Rivia, and the allied kingdoms. Will it prove to be his rescue or his doom?

Pieces Tossed Aside - Anagrrl - Firefly (Malcom/Simon, aplocalypse au,)

Summary: Paquin goes silent. Everything else follows. AU set after the TV series.

I hope theres at least on foc for you all to enjoy, have a good week <3

Now for my fics, bare with me, when we get back to actual weekly roundups these lists will be much smaller lol.

The gold of your eyes is worth more then all of my medals (Sirius/Remus, olympics Au)

Summary: After a disastorous drunk driving crash caused by Siirus he ran from Remus, the love of his life.

10 years later and Remus is watching as the only man he has ever loved gains his fourth Olympic gold medal, now if only he owuld smile at Remus the way he is at the camera.

The Babes of War (Gen fic, pleae mind the tags, it tooks of child soldiers, im still not over the fact that 16 year old Gloin was at war!!!, also thank you so much to @mrkida-art for all the Tolkein canon information they provided which helped me write this fic)

Summary: Thror has taken to many dwarves to fight at Azanulbizar. This includes a 16 year old Gloin and his cousins, none of whom are of age.

A story of child soldiers whose whole world changes after one disatorous battle caused by a gold mad king.

Not Dorcas the Orca, two of three Marauders and a jail cell (Sirius/Remus, James Potter. Another self indulgant fic for my Wolfstar fandom family, they know who they are <3)

Summary: Sirius and James once again find themselfs in a jail cell with Dorcas (who was once an orce in this very same cell) only this isn't really Dorcas, even though they look exactly like them, huh?

Gollum's song (Bilbo & Gollum, mind the tags, MCDs)

Summary: Bilbo's heart is broken as he tries to recover as much as possible at Beorn's after BOFTA. He needs all the strenght he can regain because he has a new Quest to go on.

One where he may save another lost to the darkness the Ring causes.

That house was not a home:I never meant to leave you there alone (Sirius/Remus, Sirius & Regulus, Minor character death, grief)

Summary: Sirius wakes up in morning, reads the Daily Prophet and his whole life was suddenly changed.

The world is cruel and dark and he needs his brother who is forever gone.

There's no way out: the door is barred by the demon in my lovers skin (Bilbo/Thorin, please mind the tags, MCD, DD:DE!)

Summary: Thorin has never recovered from the Dragon sickness and ow it is Bilbo who is suffering because of it.

He is trapped and alone under Thorin's thumb and fists.

Bilbo just wants his dwarf back, instead he has a monster wearing Thorin's face hurting him.

It Was Never What It Seemed (Bilbo/Thorin, please mind the tags, it has some upsetting themes, but this, THIS is a fic i sent moe than a year on. If i never wrote anythig again, it would be ok because I managed to write and finish this particular fic A huge thank you to @sunnyrosewritesstuff for all their help writing it and for the title itself, and to @brandileigh2003 for all the emotional support i needed when writing the heavier hitting chaps. Thank you both, i appreciate it so much <3)

Summary: It has been 8 years since Bilbo has lest stepped foot in Erebor. He needs to talk to his husband, especially as he is now about to marry another. Another who is not Bilbo.

Bilbo left and when he did he left Thorin broken hearted. Now he is to marry a Blacklock Princess, consequences be damned.

Follow along with our favourite dwarf and hobbit as they find their way back to one another, No matter how painful the journey is.

Violets for the one I adore (Percy/Viktor, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt - Gifted violets)

Summary: Viktor has been a retired house husband and stay-at-home dad for 4 months now. Percy has never been happier.

There's a monster under my bed (Gen fic, Percy & Fred & George Weasley, written for the @change-is-perceivable fest)

Summary: There's a monster in Percy's room and no one will help him deal with it. Instead he is facing his bedroom door, wondering if anyone will care if the monster eats him.

It's hard being the good boy in such a large, chaotic family sometimes.

Don't try and drink your grief away (Gen fic, Percy & Geroge & Harry, grief, alcoholism, also written for the @change-is-perceivable fest)

Summary: Percy is blaming himself for Fred's death, after all he is the one who spoke to him, joked with him last.

He isn't coping well and has resorted to drinking.

Drunk Percy does something unthinkingly. Something he can't remember doing.

Destined Embrace: The Love That Healed the Noldor (Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien), written for the @tolkienrsb, wih amaing art form the talented @wisteria53)

Summary: Fingon is going to rescue his best friend, his possibly something more, Maedhros, no matter what it takes.

Fingon is going to rescue his best friend, his possibly something more, Maedhros, no matter what it takes.

He is going to take him home to Gondolin and keep him safe. Maybe their friendship will grow along with their feelings of safety.

In the Darkness, You are My Shining Star (Gimli/Legolas, also written for @tolkienrsb, but this one has amazing art from @babybat98. I was paired with another amazing artist <3)

Summary: The Trope of Thorin Oakeshield are excavation miners in the depths of space working hard to feed and support their fledgling colony.

The neweest recruits have been allowed into space. Gimli Gloinson is one of those recruits. he is oging to learn how scary space can be, but also how very rewarding it can be too.

Back to where we belong (Ron/Hermione, as part of the Love of Fest Discord server, for the flash comp - Back to roots fest)

Summary: It's time to pick this years family holiday.

Ron knows where he wants to go. He wants to go back, he wants to go home.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

soon it'll be dawn again

transcript under the cut ⏬

page 01

Fig: no way? - you're still up?

Riz: Wh– yes?

Riz: Why'd I not be.

page 02

Fig: I me~~ean - that took.

Fig: whole day.

Riz: Yeah?

Fig: 'm beat.

Riz: you should sleep.

page 03

Fig: nah. my guy's still up

Fig: I wanna hang out.

page 04

Riz: That's really nice.

Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.

Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.

page 05

Fig: yeah, but you do it…

Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.

Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.

page 06

Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.

Riz: … - mm.

page 07

Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.

Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.

page 08

Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.

Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now… 

page 09

Fig: Hey.

Riz: ?

Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.

page 10

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)

Fig: o yea.

Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.

page 11

Fig: here u go

page 12

Riz: uh

Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.

Fig: I'll show u

page 13

Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try

Riz: uh - What. do I carve?

Fig: anything!!!

page 14

Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?

Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?

Fig: haha - watch this.

(sound effect text): FWOO—MP

page 15

Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???

Fig: Now it's fired!

Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE

Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)

Fig: ok catch!

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!

Fig: dw no need haha

page 16

Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…

Fig: now I want you to throw this.

page 17

Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon

page 18

Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now

Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise

Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?

Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u

Riz: but

page 19

Fig (off screen): RIz.

page 20

Fig: I've done all this before.

Fig: Can you trust that at least?

page 21

Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.

page 23

Riz: okay what happens now

(sound effect text): glob

page 24

Fig: we do it again!

page 25

Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)

Fig: see! you're already learning

Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.

Fig: Things change.

page 26

Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist

Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.

page 27

Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.

page 28

Fig: So?

page 29

Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.