#long winded ramble/mini fic at the end there-

[unknownati]

xi. christmas!

a/n: guys part of this was supposed to be the PROLOGUE to a 12 part sfw and nsfw winter/christmas themed drabbles (mini fics?) but i got too busy 💀 literally had 4 days left to write but then the 12th went by and i was like... damn

its ok tho i might upload the finished days just as separate fics

while we're here why does nle choppa have a christmas song

warnings/tags: none rlly, just fluff, SO corny, SO sappy, no use of y/n, no description of reader's features, gn!reader, decorating w/ ekko 🎉, reader is a THIEF, pre-arcane plotline (choosing happiness)

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christmas in zaun was nothing close to ideal. it was never if people celebrated, but more if they could afford it, which most of the time was a no. unless people had kids, they weren't going out of their way to make it a whole thing. not only that, but people didn't really care for it, anyway. they had other things to do. sure, maybe you'd see some extra lights around, or maybe a few lopsided wreaths hanging on a weathered door, but it was always the bare minimum.

but ever since you snuck into piltover as a kid right at the tail end of december, your world was absolutely rocked by the blinding lights and stars and bows and garlands and wreaths and the huge tree sitting smack dab in the middle of the city, illuminating the night sky.

after that, you were obsessed with the idea of christmas. you never had the funds, nor the time, nor the energy, nor enough friends or family to make anything happen all by yourself. but the dream stuck to you.

and then came ekko, and with him, a chance. a huge tree? with an abundance of people living there? it gave you the best idea.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

cool november air was giving way to the first hints of winter, the sharp bite of cold nipping at the cheeks of zaunites. warm colored leaves were shriveling into themselves and trembling down onto the concrete, scattering through the town. settled in uneven piles, nestled in corners, where the wind could push them no further. christmas has long began to be advertised in piltover, and your excitement was uncontrollable.

quiet as a mouse, you slipped into ekko's work room. he's sat on his stool, elbows rested on the table with his figure shadowing over his work. your fingers glide across his biceps, chin resting against his right shoulder.

"hey handsome," you chirped, working your digits over the curves of his muscles. your lips curled into a grin you were incapable of withholding. "y'got a minute?"

"for you, always." he turned, hands hoisting the weight of his upper body on his knees. his eyes softened upon looking at you. "what's up?"

you slid on his lap, feet swinging back and forth, pendulum like. "soooo," you begin, leaning back on his shoulder. "i'm sure you know what christmas is."

"yeah, why? want me to get you something?" his fingers twisted at the hem of your sweater. you shake your head—not the goal right now.

"no. well, yes, but not what i'm asking you for right now," ekko's head tilts in response. your voice dropped into a playful yet unsure murmur. "iiiiii wanted to know if you'd maaaybe be willing to decorate the base and celebrate it this year?"

his thoughts stutter, and then he laughed. "baby, you know i'd love to, but i can't. don't have the time or the money."

a pout formed on your face, lips jutting out. "we don't have to spend money, we can use what we have lying around! and i have some extra money on the side. we're not flat broke."

"doesn't solve the whole time thing."

"oookay, make time. we'll have the kids help, too! you won't even have to do much, like—seriously, think about it. we don't even need to get a tree because the firelight tree, duh. we can use big cardboard boxes to look like fake presents, we can steal lights 'n' other stuff from the pilties—"

you rambled on, every idea you've ever had since childhood resurfacing and bubbling out of you in an unstoppable torrent. each thought, each plan, all of it spilled out, an overflowing pot.

"hey, hey—" he interrupted, thumb stroking your thigh. "listen, those ideas are great. but we can't. and you have got to stop stealing from topside."

your smile faltered. "but why!? think about the kids, think about me!" ekko hesitates to speak, eyes darting around the room as your face transitions into a pleading pout. "please? pretty please? i'll do the dishes for a month?"

"fuck," your eyes filled with stars. ekko groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "fine! fine, jeez."

the squeal that exited you entered directly into his ears, lips pressing kisses into his face in rapid succession.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! oh my god, it'll be great, we can have the kids make little snowflakes, we could have a little fucking wish box to get gifts for some of the kids—" you gasped loudly upon a realization, planting your hands onto his shoulders. "—you can be santa!!!"

he scoffs, brushing a loc of white hair out of his face. "don't push your luck."

you sigh in mock defeat. "fine, hiemerdinger's got that. i'll take what i can get."

"isn't he kinda short for santa?"

you shake your head. "don't height shame."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

ekko rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, a small groan rumbling in his throat as he reached over on the bed to find you.

empty.

his head flipped. you've left a now cool dent in the bed in your wake, blanket left in a wild mess.

he frowned, sitting up and looking around. you're nowhere to be found.

maybe you got up to use the bathroom, he thinks, standing up to search the place for you.

the second his feet hit the floor, his brows furrow.

'...glitter?'

his gaze lifts, and his eyes widen as they follow the specks of glitter scattered across the floor, which caught the faint morning light that bled through the curtains.

he followed the trail, small drops of glitter turning into discarded cardboard scraps, which turned into unfinished rolls of ribbon, which lead him to his workroom, where the door was slightly ajar.

he slowly pushed the door open, finding you hunched over a box that you were decorating to look like presents. you tilt your head up to look at him, a smile spreading ear to ear.

"w'ssup?"

he glanced at the small clock on his desk. "it's...five in the morning, why are you up so early?"

you gestured towards the pile of finished boxes in the corner. "working!" the sound of tape ripping off of the roll fills the air as you took a strip, taping the box shut. "i already collected a bunch of paper for the kids to make snowflakes, borrowed some lights 'nd garlands from topside, aaand i'm almost done making all these boxes."

a lot done considering you had had that conversation just the night before.

ekko crouched down to your level, eyes meeting yours. "but...you're gonna clean all this up, right?"

silence.

"right?" he repeated.

your eyes narrowed. "yes?"

"why is that a question?"

you scoff, pressing an empty roll of wrapping paper into his chest. "why are you asking me so many of 'em? get to work. and i need you to use your hover board to fly around and get those lights up," you nod towards a pile of lights on his desk without looking away from your box. he opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. "thank you!"

he rolled his eyes and stood, tossing the wrapping paper roll into the recycling bin.

at a more appropriate time in the day, you stood at the top of the firelight tree after capturing everyone's attention. public speaking wasn't exactly your thing, but ekko insisted you do it since everything was your idea.

you cleared your throat as the crowd settled into silence, all eyes on you. you shifted your weight onto your other leg.

"um—wow, okay, hi guys. so, i'm sure you've all...heard of christmas. and i know it's usually kinda lame, but truuust me, this year i'm gonna make sure it's—" you gather your fingers, kissing the tips of them and flaring your hand out. "—chef's kiss."

eyes leave you to glance at other's reactions, the silence lifted by an excited murmur.

"yeah, but i'm gonna need help. i have a bunch of paper that i need to be made into snowflakes, so that by the end of the day this place can look better than it already does."

you shifted their focus to scar, who carried a large bin of scissors, string, and paper of various colors. (earlier, scar questioned how you got all these supplies. you just smiled at him.)

after a quick tutorial, children started racing to gather around him, picking their colors and scissors. within a few minutes, the kids were gathered in groups on the floor, cutting out their best attempts at snowflakes.

pride swelled in your chest and you looked up into the bulk of the tree's leaves, ekko's form flying around in circles with lights being strung along behind him. with fists on your hips, you beam. "i'm amazing," you praise, making your way back inside.

everything came together surprisingly quick. ekko had never seen you that focused—hanging up lights, making paper bows to place at the points where lights held, and placing those big fake presents around the tree. of course, other people helped too, which made the work lighter.

you mostly left the mural alone, only placing a few extra candles and waving to the colorful portraits.

by the time night fell, the project was close to finished. it wasn't perfect, but to you, it was. the entire base was illuminated in warm, white lights, paper snowflakes dangling from the branches and twisting in the wind. the beat in your chest stuttered. it all felt...magical.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

over the next few weeks, you kept adding and adding to the scene. and it was all finished just in time for today, christmas eve.

by now, you'd forced ekko into so many christmas activities, some more enjoyable than the others. he thoroughly enjoyed making matching pajamas with you and drinking cocoa that was overflowing with marshmallows—being constantly tricked into mistletoe kisses, not so much. at least, he acted like he hated it. he secretly adored accidentally walking right into your trap of a hidden mistletoe and being attacked by an onslaught of messy kisses.

ekko finds you at the balcony again, glancing out into the scene below. "hm. not bad." he leans against the railing, hips bumping into yours.

"yeah, cuz it's awesome. i did that, thank you."

warm lips meet your cold cheek. "mhm. you did." he paused, tongue running over his molars. "i-um...got you something."

you perked up at his words, head whipping around to face him. "ooh, you just reminded me that i have to finish making your gift, i—"

as you're speaking, he pulls a little box from his coat pocket, black with a messy red bow.

"it's not perfect, but...y'know," his voice trails off. he pops the box open and offers it to you.

inside rested a delicate necklace, light reflecting off of the silver metal and glimmering into your eyes. the chain was thin, the links very neatly melded together, and a little circular locket hanging off the center.

you take the box and reach in, mouth agape in awe, gently pushing the locket open. inside was a tiny picture of the two of you, laying in bed, with you sound asleep on his shoulder. ekko's eyes were shut as he was in the middle of pressing a kiss to your forehead.

you smile down at the picture, warmth flooding your chest. for a long moment, you're just staring at it, ekko awaiting your reaction. your lips press together, your vision starts to blur, and a tear rolls down your face and into the velvet lining of the box. then they just kept streaming down.

ekko's face drops, immediately reaching to wipe your tears. "hey, it's okay, if you don't like it i can get you something else."

you hiccup, shaking your head. "shut up, i love it so much, this is just everything i've ever wanted for my whole life, and it's so stupid but you've literally made this the best christmas i've ever had a-and this necklace is really cute and this was so worth doing the dishes—"

you could've kept going but your joyful sobs cut you off. it was all too much, all the decorations and all the traditions you once wished for finally coming into fruition. ekko's arms wrap around you and you return the gesture, fingers twisting into his coat.

"i'd do it again in a heartbeat." he whispers, moving to peck your wet cheek. once, twice, three times.

"boo," a voice calls below you. "get a room."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

[crazylittlejester]

mini fic requests??? :0

The heroes end on Skyloft. They got to know Sun is Hylia, a literal goddess, the first of all the Zeldas! They're all anxious and expect to see a tall, elegant, regal lady with a stoic expression, dressed in white.

Instead they get there and this short chaotic, super expressive gremlin, wearing a knight uniform, runs to Sky so fast they both fall off Skyloft and then laugh as the others are both shocked and confused.

I absolutely loved this, I’m sorry it took so long to do. The prompt was super cute :)

Here you go!! (606 words):

Skyloft was everything Sky had told them it was, but somehow also more. Being so high above the clouds was making Warriors’s head spin, and looking over the edge had him feeling weak in the knees, but Twilight had silently offered him a hand to hold to steady himself and the captain had taken it without hesitation. They’d arrived on the island in the sky a few short minutes ago, just in time to see the sun set, and Warriors’s breath had been stolen away from him by the sheer beauty of it all. He’d been here once before, during the War of Eras, however he hadn’t had much time to really take it all in and realize how beautiful his friend’s home was.

Sky, of course, had been over the moon to be back home, excitedly bouncing around while the others took a moment to adjust to the suddenly thinner air.

Warriors was so distracted by his heart pounding away in his chest due to how close to the edge he was and also by the views that he hadn’t really been paying attention to Sky rambling on about his home until his brother let out a sharp squeak.

“You guys can meet Sun!!” He beamed, running off towards a large staircase.

“Slow down, please,” Time wheezed, rubbing his forehead. The group slowly and groggily trailed behind Sky, who, bless him, was really trying his best to contain his excitement. He stayed with them the entire way up the stairs, bouncing all the way up while Warriors was tightly gripping onto Twilight and the rail for dear life.

He didn’t understand how the others were all so unbothered by how high off the ground they were, the captain appeared to be the only one struggling with it, but he was grateful that no one made a comment or teased him. It seemed even Legend knew when it was not an appropriate time to poke at him.

When they finally reached the end of the stairs, Sky led them into a familiar looking area, towards a ledge where a blond girl sat with her back to them. Warriors immediately assumed this must be Sun, Sky’s Zelda, Hylia reborn. From the way his brother talked about his girlfriend, the captain had imagined her to be as radiant as the goddess herself, an elegant guardian of the islands of the sky.

Warriors had not been expecting the young woman to whip around with a wide, plotting grin, and run at Sky, knocking him sideways over the edge.

He couldn’t help the scream that tore itself from his throat, and he clapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened in fear. All the others, except for Twilight who was graciously still holding his hand, raced to the edge to look over and see what had just happened to their beloved brother.

“WHERE’D HE GO???” Legend yelled, breathing heavily.

“Did???? Did she just kill them??” Wind gulped, looking back towards Warriors and the rancher with wide eyes.

Before anyone else could speak, a large red bird came flying up from over the edge, startling the group of heroes and causing everyone to stumble backwards.

“I ain’t ever seen a bird that big in my LIFE,” Twilight choked, gripping on to the captain’s hand a little tighter than he probably meant to, but Warriors didn’t even notice because all of his attention was on the fact that Sky and Sun were on the birds back, laughing like it was some kind of normal afternoon.

“He’s…” Four frowned, hands on his hips. “He’s fine. He’s fine he just… Hylia above.”

[blkkizzat]

hi im shy so i haven't interacted b4 but i luv your fics! i like that you write stories & just don't post smau or twt porn links.

Hey nonny! TY for liking my work, its appreciated!! I do encourage you to interact though, even if its just a comment or continued anon msgs cause they do encourage me to write. I also really like receiving them <33 so I hope you or anyone else feels comfy to interact with me. *i dont bite i promiseeeee*

However, I honestly don't think theres anything wrong with smaus or twt porn links.

I incorporated smaus into my fics before. I adore writing or reading a good crack fic/post so I definitely think they have their place too and they are funny! I just personally struggle when it comes to writing shorter content so not something in my wheelhouse to do. (lol anything i write under 1k words i automatically think is dogshit. lol someone teach me to write short stuff i beg.)

Also I be EATING UP those twt porn links!! I don't post any of my own as my twitter is a stan account and I don't follow/like/retwt porn on there cause I don't want to mess up my algorithm. But I do be bookmarking them HEAVY! They are good reference material for my smut fics tbh.

Also I try to stay out of the mess/discourse cause I feel like people should be able to enjoy what they like without writing lame dissertations in defense/debating about it. But since we are on the topic already I'll add I haven't really understood the hate for them in particular, especially those saying people who like/post them have porn addictions because what!? Like we are not all on here to write/read smut?? pot---meet--->kettle. Anyway I guess I can understand the frustration some have when they assume they are stealing attention away from fics, but idk tumblr is huge and there is a place/audience for everyone is my belief. I've seen many long 6k+ fics breaking 20k+ so I think theres interest in long fics as well (one of my 7k+ fic has 18k+ notes). But I work in marketing, am getting my MBA right now and have worked in the middle of business and creative my entire career (at one point i worked for Twitch directly with streamers/influencers) so I can say when it comes to anything content/creative driven its honestly it's less about the quality of the individual work and more about regularly finding, interacting and catering to your audience if you really care about notes that much . I think its far more important though to do it for fun. Especially since we are not getting paid and doing this for free-99! So much creativity gets stifled when its too much about the business/results/notes side and you are working to please others/for clout. Thats a whole ass job in itself lmfao! I used to write on ff.net back in the day (years ago omfg) and stressed myself out so much from all the reviews/requests that I ended up abandoning it and was scared to write fanfics for years because of the anxiety of 'letting ppl down' until I got back into it last fall and decided to stop giving a fuck LOL.

Ahhh but I could ramble on about that for hours so let me stop I'm doing what I said I didn't want to do cause this is def now a mini dissertation from me going down the rabbit hole on this LMFAO! (im long-winded af lol)

But ty for the ask nonny I hope you come back soon <3

[rockybloo]

Thinking of writing a fanfic crossover where Jack and Nana end up in Decking city after a magical accident (Still fleshing out the details of how said accident worked).

If comfortable answering:

I'm curious about how you think Nana and Jack would react to such a such a big change in a new place like that, in a general sense. Especially if there's a bigger issue bringing them here and they realize they have to solve it to go home.

Thank you, and lovely day either way ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

A fanfic of Jack and Nana would make me screech because they are the most ship ever for me and I'd be overjoyed. 😭💚❤️ The concept of anyone considering taking time out of their day and writing a fic about my OCs in general makes me happy.

and WOW my brain waves are powerful because I was literally thinking of an old Beanstalked plot point that basically dealt with the idea of how the main team get yeeted from Lore to Earth and have to figure out how to get back and how to tie it to Glitter and Guilt for a funny little crossover arc.

I won't go into detail about the ACTUAL events that cause it to potentially happen (bc I dunno if I'll do it...I mean I probably will but as a separate oneshot from the main storylines of both stories) BUT I can def answer how Jack and Nana would respond to a similar situation.

This will be a long one so buckle in

First thing to know is that Lore and Earth are two separate planets in the same solar system. Both are waaay closer than either think.

Lore occupants know about Earth, specifically they know it as "The World without Magic/Happy Endings/Fairy Tales/etc." It's kinda of mythicized.

Earth has no idea Lore is a thing because Lore has magic rings (kinda like Saturn's but cooler I dare say) that spin around it and make it invisible.

Bloopers are a glitch in reality in Lore where things from Earth often pop up there. Often old or lost objects.

Jack works part time for Baba, who tends to have a whole bunch of bloopers in his shop, which means he has very mild knowledge of Earth. Not a whole lot but if he winded up there-he would know "Oh! This is Earth!" and he'd be able to point out some stuff and name it. So he would know a car when he sees one-it's just a matter of actually being aware of how one works.

Hazel and Kettle have a TON of bloopers they hoard in their bedroom which serves as the attic for the inn Miss Castor is the keeper of. Specifically, they have the super fun bloopers like retro game consoles and comic books. Chances are, they even have some Sweetheart merch but are under the belief that she is merely fictional character.

So Jack is vaguely aware of Sweetheart. SPECIFICALLY as "The pink hero my little siblings thinks is cool".

Merch of villains is a whole lot more locked down with most being illegal save for what is made for the Decking City Park of Heroes AKA the Disney World/Universal Studios of Decking City entirely focusing on it's homegrown hero culture.

So Bitterbat is def not someone Jack is aware of.

When it comes to Nana, she doesn't really dabble much in bloopers or even learning about Earth. Unless it's from Jack's ramblings or mini adventures, she tends to limit herself to Lore and its shenanigans. She spent most her life living in a forest and is just now branching out to learn more about Briar Patch and Lore as a whole thanks to Jack making her realize "Oh hey the outside world is kinda fun".

She's taking baby steps and Earth is a very big jump she ain't trynna make yet.

So when it comes to them getting yeeted to Earth, SPECIFICALLY Decking City, Nana is def more reliant on Jack when it comes to knowledge. Where ever he is going, she is gonna be right there, hugging onto one of his arms for dear life because neither wants to lose the other.

Decking City is very interesting with how it's the least mundane setting for Jack and Nana to wind up in, which works perfectly because they come from a fantasy world. They will ironically feel a lot more comfortable when they see a giant monster attacking or some hero versus villain battle going on than dealing with crossing the street with a buncha traffic or even walking through a grocery store aka over stimulant central.

The biggest problem would be adapting to their temporary stay. Decking City is loud and busy and both would be overwhelmed quite easily from just the sights and sounds alone. A city is vastly more imposing than a kingdom when it comes to its buildings and even then, Jack and Nana spend most their time in Briar Patch which is a small humble town.

Nana would have the worse time because her keen Lupine hearing means every car honk, screech of tires, Kaiju alert siren, civilian yelling at another civilian, would lead to the biggest headache.

Protecting the other and making sure they're safe is their main priority. They care deeply about each other and seeing the constant look of discomfort on Nana's face and how nervous she is is enough to break Jack's heart. And the second anyone so much as breathes in the slightest bit of irritation at Jack seeming to not know where or what he's doing, under the belief he's a tourist, would lead to Nana snarling with her full set of chompers on display.

That's enough to cause anyone in the proximity to steer clear of them...or at least treat Jack very nicely because it's very obvious the two are traveling together.

ULTIMATELY, both would want some safe place so they can gather their thoughts, which are currently being scrambled by the city sights and sounds, calm down and figure out what they need to do to get back home.

Whatever they need to do, they are def willing to accomplish because they are used to being in some slice of hell situations. They've always figured their way out of them. Back on Lore, the gang adventures a bunch and have encountered a lot. Some of which I cannot share for spoilers but just know they are no strangers to dealing with the unknown.

It's just a big matter of figuring out exactly what unknown they are dealing with this time.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Seers' Miscellany

Prologue: Origins of the first bloom

A circular fic for the Dainsleif mini-series I'll be working on. This will be the introduction; of the evanescent bough keeper of the new world. "Observers of the North do not usually wind up in personal business, but when they do, in their wake comes great shifting of the plates of the timelines." Logs of the stag and the delicate flower.

Pairings -> Dainsleif x Reader; Reader is NOT Traveler

Word Count -> 1579

Themes -> Pretty sad, but also fluffy

Chapters -> 1

Warnings -> Story progression takes a while, oh dear why am I doing this now, I'm so busy

"500 mora; and three answered questions."

He's not really sure what lead him to indulge the requests of a simple adventurer when he made his rounds around the city of freedom. Was it the simple need for currency? It couldn't be, he was better off with other commissions that Katheryne could offer.

Was it the desperation in your voice and eyes? You looked at him like a prophet, your only salvation, and perhaps in this context that may be true. You were but a lone adventurer and the way your weight leans heavier on one foot shows your struggle to those who have keen eyes like him, no other person wished to indulge your needs and you were getting desperate.

Or was it the three questions? Dainsleif have yet to hear such contractual obligations before, but it felt as tho it was the most important part of the agreement he took the moment you pleaded with that soft voice. Humble yet resolved, not letting him walk away without at least considering it once.

And so he found himself traversing the land of the wolves through a dangerous path, where you skip ahead with a gait of happiness, bubbly and energetic enough to surpass even his long legs. You hummed without consideration at the glee of finally having a companion, and he did not mind it at the slightest despite the attention it may bring upon your little party.

"First question," Dainsleif fleeted his gaze away from the horizon to turn to you whom slowed your pace to match his, head looking over your shoulder with a wide grin. "How are you?" So innocent.

He huffs in amusement, the most emotion you've seen of him. "You don't need to waste a contract question for such a simple question, you know," he stands behind you as you crouch down on a shrubbery filled with Wolfhooks. Your main objective for visiting Wolvendom in the first place.

You assured him that you meant your question in every way possible as your hands carefully pick at the herbs, wary of the thorns and the intrusive prickly leaves. Despite your attention turned away from him he knows you await his answer. Dainsleif hums to himself and stops—

How is he? What does he truly feel in this moment of his time?

A simple question yet risked for one of the three inquiries agreed upon definitely holds a deeper meaning. His train of spiraling thoughts halts upon the sound of otherwordly grunts and chants as he turns away from your still busy form (you seem very focused on your foraging) to find three Hilichurls approaching with ill intent.

Dainsleif squints at the impending threat before shooting a final glance to make sure you weren't looking. His arm glows blue as he raises it, power in the form of blue swirling mist surges around him - how are you? The feeling brings him back to vague memories of his past, of the energy rising through him at his expeditions with an old companion, of the thrill spent upon encountering the unexpected. Such thoughts are not vivid but the familiarity of what he is experiencing right now was enough for him.

Though he was sure that there were no camps before they went through this route.

"You asked me how I am," he spoke when you finally turned from the bush with an armful of Wolfhooks on your arsenal, confusion on your face at the sight of downed Hilichurls and the side profile of the bough keeper.

His cerulean eyes were fixated at his left hand that he repeatedly closes and opens for a few seconds, before he fully turns to you (your eyes did not miss the blue glow from underneath his cape, where his right arm should be) with a wisp of a smile, "I feel alive right now."

You reciprocated the gesture with a wide grin, "I'm glad to hear that!"

A majority of the wolfhooks gathered where given to the little Botanist Chloris, the seller of flowers, who looked relieved and ecstatic upon your arrival. Something Dainsleif took great notice of. Carefully handing over the berries and some which you had to pluck singularly from your companion's flowy cape, the little girl gave you her Valberries in exchange.

It was sweet and familiar, something Dainsleif took note as he accepted your offer of the fruit despite his none need for sustenance.

Your little chewing sounded through as you two settled on the humble camp you managed to setup with your supply for a single individual. There was a little hole in the middle for a campfire Dainsleif had made the effort to prepare knowing the coldness the night will bring soon enough, and your fragile form is not something he wishes to bargain now. Is that really the reason? Perhaps in the back of his mind, he was really just working on forgotten routines.

"Second question," his footstep at the edge of the camp halts as he turns once again, where you sat on the mat as tonight's bedding, hands flicking to remove the stray juices of the berries. He stood still in wait before he goes back to his mini mission of getting fire wood.

"Go on," he urged when you stood a minute longer in silence.

"Do you like traveling, Dain?" Easy enough, he simply said yes and left when you ended the conversation with a nod.

When he came back with the wood and tinder bundle for easy spreading, out of the corner of his eye he watched your hands work on the mortal and pestle as you grinded the remaining wolfhooks on your person. The fire started the moment he was done setting up the kindling and your face filled with admiration at the sudden and immediate spark, praising him for his quick work.

Dainsleif is both talkative and not, and at times he finds himself rambling to the wind. The moments of the night passed without much details until he found himself talking about his past adventures with his old companion, of the world they've seen together and the now estranged relationship between them.

His responses were sometimes cryptic unintentionally, and he apologizes when there are things about it that he couldn't answer simply because he could not remember. When silence struck after he finished his tales and meal, the beautiful spike in his eyes found yours gleaming despite the drowsiness pulling at your whole feature.

"I'm glad you're very fond of traveling. If not, I wouldn't have met you," and he wouldn't have taken the commission. Dainsleif's eyes flashed in recognition, finally understanding the meaning behind your second question. Somehow this little commission deal turned into a silent back and forth quip of him understanding past your simple inquiries.

Like a little game he muses on with his curious mind.

That night you rested with the extra comfort of his eccentric cape, something you needed more than him as he gazes over the clear night sky. His eyes silently traced the galaxy of stars while the sound of your whispered breathing accompanies his sleepless night.

The last question and that last of your very quick expedition came the next day at the cliffside overlooking the lair sealed by winds.

Your fingers were dusted by the violet paste of grinded wolfhooks long consumed the night prior, stained fingers gripping the thin and fragile stem of the yellow dandelion in its grasp. It was his great observation that let him realize the disaster that happened now but even his foresight could not prepare him for what has to come.

"Third question," his head snapped down to watch your ethereal face don a calm smile, the sun's setting light kissing your cheeks in the right angle that matched that of the clean clouds above. Your eyes silently questioned his unfocused gaze but he only shook his head.

Don't worry about it. "I know this last question would end the commission with you," your voice trembled in both fear and fatigue but Dainsleif didn't force you to preserve your strength like he should. "But I wanted to ask, maybe tomorrow again,

do you want to be my traveling companion?"

The hand that clutched the Dandelion found it way to the side of his mask, the petals brushing against his eyelids as he looks down at you with an eye. A ghost of a smile lingers on his lips as he leans on your hand.

"It would be my pleasure."

Life momentarily flashed over your orbs before you let out a sharp exhale and a breathless, joyous laughter. Relief overtook the tension that laid on your shoulders, and your hand would have dropped to the ground immediately if he had not gripped it on the last second.

"That sounds good. I've always wanted to travel the world," he pulls the cape closer around your form as your eyelids droop to a close. And he witness another breathe, "It was supposed to be today, but I feel really tired today, I'll rest early too if that's okay."

He rose from the ground with you in his arms, "I'll be here."

"Mmm thank you... good... night."

"Good night, little dandelion."

And perhaps that distant memory from faraway had urged him to invite and indulge, when he saw the same spark of intrigue and desperation, of the warmth of carefree days in front of him.

"But I will require advance payment,

500 Mora, and three answered questions."

Dainsleif SUPREMACY MWAHAHAHAHAH

@genshin-idiot : here's your Dainsleif content

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan

[headboyweasley]

to my beloved // h.p

pairing : harry potter x reader

summary : when harry learns you’ve gone missing, he hits rock bottom. no one can reach out to him until a peculiar letter ends up in his possession. 

warnings : ANGST (happy ending???), swearing, post-war, alcohol/implied alcohol abuse, violence (against inanimate objects), missing person/presumed dead, mentions of food

word count : 1.3k

author’s note : hi!! this is my very first fic posted on tumblr, so i hope you enjoy. i’m actually really proud of this one, as it was inspired by my favorite song “play this when i’m gone” by machine gun kelly. also, thank you for the support on my masterlist! it means the literal world. also my favorite writers followed me and i am freaking out. sorry for the this long note,,, i tend to ramble. enjoy!

( disclaimer : gif is not mine! )

It had been months since the war had ended. While the wizarding world was still healing, the future for it had become hopeful. The threat of war had hung over the heads of the community, so once it had been taken away, everything was reborn. Bustling crowds and children’s laughter had filled Diagon Alley once more; the boarded up shops had now opened up, gleaming with pride. Many felt grateful for this new age.

The last person people expect to be so devastated was Harry Potter. Afterall, he was the one that killed Voldemort. Good things don’t happen to heroes, as someone had once told him. He gave everyone that hope, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Why, you may ask? Well, my friend, he found out you were among the missing people in the aftermath of the war. The love of his life, his sunshine, his darling had been snatched from him.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but sometimes he wishes that he hadn’t gone to the forest to face Voldemort. Sometimes he wishes he had hid away in Shell Cottage with you and grown old together. When he decided that was selfish, he tried to find other ways he could have won that war with you by his side. 

He knew he couldn’t. What happened was the only true ending. 

A sigh fell from his lips as the bottle was barely held by the tip of his fingers. The bedroom reeked of firewhiskey, which wasn’t a surprise since there was a surplus of them scattered across the floor. He took a final sip before letting this bottle join the rest. 

Of course, Ron and Hermione had attempted to help. They had kept it up for a couple months through staying at his home and making meals for him. Hermione tried reading to him, while Ron kept his friend updated with Quidditch and the Weasley family. This had come to an abrupt halt, though, after a particularly angry outburst from Harry. They had given him one last look of sympathy before apparating.

That had been months ago, and since then, Harry had been trapped inside his mind and flat. 

“You never do anything fucking right. First, you lose the love of your life. Next, you ruin the relationship between you and your best friends. You’re fucking alone, and you’re going to die that way.” He seethed with anger just looking at himself in the small mirror. He continued to glare at himself for a few more minutes before grabbing the mini dresser and slamming it into the floor. 

Glass shattered, while his old Hogwarts uniform and merchandise tumbled out. Violence was an often thing for the items in his home. Usually after a bottle and self-degrading speech, he’d destroy something to let the anger fizzle. The aftermath of this, though, was a bit of a coping mechanism, as he would fix things by hand instead of using magic. It let his mind breathe; focus on anything but his self-hatred. 

He crouched down to pick up his Gryffindor scarf, wrapping it around himself and relishing in its warmth with shut eyes. It reminded him of the freezing wind that nipped at his skin whenever he went out to visit Hagrid, or the times his roommates were challenging who could put on the most layers. These memories let him be at ease. They always transported him from the harsh reality to the happier days. 

Once he allowed himself to come back, his eyes scanned for something that would ground him to the real world. He expected to find a bottle to do so, but instead laid eyes on an unfamiliar envelope at his feet. It couldn’t have been his Hogwarts letter, as this one did not bear the mark to close it. However, there was a date written at the top in an all too familiar handwriting. Then, it clicked.

Your handwriting.

Harry scrambled to grab the paper. It was sliding all over the hardwood floor when he kept grabbing at it recklessly. After a struggle that felt like forever, he held the envelope in his shaking hands. Yes, that was definitely your handwriting within the date that read “31 July 1997.” He flipped it over to find “To My Beloved” written across the front. 

It felt as time had stopped, as he carefully pulled the flap from its seal. To him, it was like he was touching a part of you. Granted it was written over a year ago, but the small spark of hope held onto it anyways. Slowly, he pulled out the folded up paper inside. Deep breaths, he thought. He did quite the opposite, though, as his breath hitched when he read it.

Hi there, Harry. I hope you’re doing well.

If you find this, there’s a good chance something happened to me.

Already, tears pricked his eyes. He continued, despite his semi-blurry vision.

Please don’t fret though. Things happen for a reason, remember? If you hadn’t stayed in the hospital wing after your bone disappeared, you wouldn’t have met me and my major clumsiness. I’d like to think that’s another reason Lockhart’s git self had ended up as teacher; for our chance to meet. 

It’s ok to cry, but please don’t think that it’s your fault. I am so in love with you, Harry James Potter. I dedicated my life to you. I promised you I’d follow you until the end, and I followed through. 

Since I filled my promise, please promise that you’ll live; that you’ll find that happiness in your life again. You’re the best damn seeker I know, so don’t go telling me that you can’t. I mean, I’m sure you killed Voldemort and brought light into the dark world. You deserve to be in that light. Don’t dwell on the past, my love. Focus on the future. All I want is for you to be happy.

I know we never got married, but I knew you were mine from the beginning. The box with this letter; I thought I’d give it now before it was too late. In marriage, you want the best for your partner. That’s exactly what I want. When you wear this, please remember to do whatever you can to be happy. If not for you, then for me.

I love you, Harry Potter. I am so proud of you.

Yours, Y/N

The letter would be covered in wet spots if his glasses hadn’t taken the fall. He let out a choked sob as he clutched the letter to his chest. His eyes scanned the area for the aforementioned box, and found it between a few bottles. One hand darted out and snatched it up, while the other kept a tight grip on the now wrinkling letter. Slowly, he flicked open the lid with his thumb.

A wedding band glistened against the little light peeking through the blinds. Upon seeing it, he hesitantly let the letter fall onto his lap and went to take the jewelry instead. His hands shook as he grabbed it and slipped it into his finger. A perfect fit, of course.

Maybe, just maybe, the ring was magic. It must be, as there was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. Happiness? Love? Hope? He sifted through a few emotions before landing on a feeling of content. This letter was the closure he had been subconsciously grasping for. Now that he had it, he felt reconciliation with his mind. 

Harry pushed himself up to stand, and with shaky legs, he made his way to his home phone. He made sure one hand held the paper that brought him much peace, while the other dialed the number. It rang a few times before a familiar voice answered. A final deep breath before he responded.

“Hermione? I think.. I think I’m ready to change.”

-

!taglist!  @/empty :(

[gravity-lifts]

Who’s Afraid Of Ghosts?

Hello everyone! Here’s my piece for the gvbb mini bang (organized by @grishaversebigbang) 

Here’s some absolutely amazing art by @generalstarkov link and  @emmaxtw link!!!! Also a wonderful edit by @jiangsziyas link!! 

This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. ~~ Sometimes, your friend tells a ghost story so stupid that you just need to prove that nothing bad happens in graveyards at night. Right?

ao3 link here

Fic under the cut warnings: violence, death of a minor character (non canon character) words: 2161

The group sat in a semi circle in the living room, sprawled across couches, chairs and each other, chatting amongst themselves, loud enough to make Zoya actually glad, for the first time, that Liliana wasn’t going to be home that night. She wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation --- she hadn’t really been for a while, more caught up in the flickering of the fire off of her friends as they talked. A shout drew her attention towards where Nikolai was sitting, looking equal parts regal and ridiculous in an armchair. He gestured wildly with his hands, trying to explain something to Tamar and Nadia who both seemed to not quite believe whatever tall tale he was spinning. It was probably just something about the mermaids he swears he’d seen the last time he’d been out boating.

However, as she turned back to the fire, she heard him mention the graveyard. Cursing her needless curiosity, she wandered over to Nikolai’s chair, just in time to hear him rambling about the person’s gory end. So, it was a ghost story, then. She settled in, back resting against his legs, waiting for him to restart with his new audience as Tamar and Nadia shuffled back to the couch and Alina drifted from where she’d been talking with Genya, probably having heard half of Nikolai’s story the first time, looking just as curious as Zoya felt about the beginning of a story that had such a gory end.

Nikolai sat up a bit straighter, his face brightening as he noticed that more people wanted to hear his story. He cleared his throat, and then he began.

“This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. In fact, one of them is telling a ghost story just like this one, a true story of a group of friends all together in a house-”

“Yes yes, this story is true and it’s about true things that happened truthfully, now, what actually happened? I thought this was a scary story, not just one about what we’re doing now,” Zoya cut in, pushing a curl of hair out of her face.

“I’m getting there! Just wait, I promise it’ll be scary. Now, in this story there’s a girl that doesn’t believe the ghost story that is being told. She tells her friends off for being superstitious, for believing in the story that had been told. Now, like I said, this is a true story, a cautionary tale, if you will. And, the story inside the story is just like that as well, about a kid who went to the graveyard after dark, only to be killed, right on the grave. Now, as I said, the girl didn’t believe this story when her friend told it. She believed it to just be a stupid tale meant to scare children much younger than them away from the graveyard before dark, back home to their parents for dinner and bed. She declared that she would go out to the graveyard, to prove that the tale hadn’t been true, promising to leave something of their choice on the centermost grave to show that she had followed through with her plan. And so, she set out, a candle in hand, ready to prove that her friends were all just overreacting over a kids story. Now, this is where the story starts to blur. Some people tell it with a happy ending, one where she runs away, never to be seen again. That, in my humble opinion, is bullshit,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, the drumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair the only clue that he’s anxious to get to what he clearly thinks of as the important part of the story.

“In the much better version of the story, she goes to the graveyard, brave as can be. She walks to the grave, and sets her candle down, kneeling to light it as she hears footsteps behind her, getting closer with every moment she wastes fumbling with the matches. She stays there until she feels someone's breath on the back of her neck, feels the gentle press of a blade to her back, before it plunges in, then the searing pain took priority over everything else, a knife being twisted before it was withdrawn, leaving her to bleed on the cold graveyard dirt, candle lit at last. 

The next morning, her friends came to find the candle. They were speculating wildly about why she hadn’t returned home the night before, all joking about how she must have met another friend, maybe even a partner, before they stepped inside the cemetery and got their grim answer, in the form of her body, laying in a puddle of what was unmistakably blood, still shielding the candle from the elements.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair to either straighten it or ruffle it more, Zoya wasn’t completely sure. She was sure, however, that the story was completely untrue.

“So, Nikolai,” she said, standing up from where she’d been sitting on the floor and taking a step towards him. “You’re saying that if I go into a graveyard at night, I’m sure to die? Because, it is night right now, and last I checked, there’s a graveyard only two blocks from here.”

Nikolai sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to go alone, as well? Haven’t I just given two examples as to why this isn’t a good idea?”

“Oh come on! You were telling a scary story, those are supposed to be like cautionary tales. Besides, it’s not the same graveyard. No one has ever been killed in this one, I think I would know if someone had been, seeing as I live right. By. It.”

Nikolai stood, looking genuinely concerned. Concerned enough to make her feel like this may not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had. Well, if she was anything, she was stubborn, so she might as well follow through with it. If anything went wrong, it would serve Nikolai right for basically daring her to do it.

She turned towards the kitchen, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she walked.

“If I’m actually going to prove your story wrong, then I might as well take something to prove I was there. Would a knife work instead of a candle? Of course I wouldn’t be lighting it on fire, but I could drive it into the ground to prove I was there.”

Nikolai just stared at her, before finally snapping out of whatever mess of thoughts had been running through his head. 

“I’ll come and get you if you’re not back after what, ten minutes? Zoya, I never thought I would say this, but please don’t prove me right.”

She scoffed, pulling her boots on.

“Please Nikolai. It’s a children's story! Don’t tell me you actually believe I’ll die from being alone in a graveyard.

She walked out the door, letting it slam behind her in a way that would definitely have made any parental figure furious with her, and started on her way to the graveyard. She must have zoned out while she walked as it seemed to have taken far less time than it normally did to walk there, but she found herself already almost in the center of the graveyard, knife in hand. She checked that she was in between two graves -- it felt rude to stab a grave -- and knelt, swiftly digging her knife into the dirt. 

She was quite ready to go back home, telling herself that it was just because of how cold it was, and definitely not because the wind whistling in the trees sounded like one of the monsters in the stories she had begged her dad to tell her when she was a child, even though she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep after hearing them. No, it was definitely the cold. 

She tried to stand, brushing dirt off of her knees as she rose, but she found that she wasn’t able to move past a low crouch. Behind her, the wind grew ever louder, swelling as it whipped through the trees. It sounded almost like babies crying now, less like the roar of monsters as it had before, or the crash of waves on the shore as it usually did, during the day. Uninvited, thoughts of angry ghosts appeared in her head, and suddenly she was a lot less certain that she was actually alone in the cemetery. 

She sank back to her knees, wondering if anyone would find her before morning, or if she would stay in the graveyard, laying dead until morning or even later, like in Nikolai’s story. She really should have thought a bit more before testing fate like this. 

Once again, the wind swelled, almost as if it was trying to push her over. Zoya straightened her back, lifting her chin. If she were to be killed by spirits, at least she would go out with her dignity intact.

Then, from behind her, she heard something. Something that sounded like… footsteps? They stopped, but now she could hear someone breathing a bit behind her. Perhaps she had been too hasty to assume that ghosts were the only thing that could hurt her here.

“Zoya? I’m here to get you! We were worried about how long you were taking. Are you going to turn around, or do I have to make my dramatic entrance to your back?”

She whipped around - or tried to, at least. Whatever was keeping her pinned to the ground was definitely still there.

Nikolai walked around her, probably to make his grand entrance, as by now he had certainly decided that she wasn’t going to turn. With him here, her fears of ghosts and murders seemed almost silly, especially in the glow of his flashlight. He held out his hand to her, entrance seemingly having been set aside. He was looking at her rather oddly, and when she raised a hand to check for dirt on her face, she found the reason in the almost dried tear tracks. She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying until now.

As Nikolai pulled her to her feet, they heard the sound of fabric tearing, amplified by the relative silence surrounding them. The wind had died, leaving everything deathly still. Zoya glanced down, finally seeing what had kept her on the ground. The knife she had brought was still pinning some of the fabric from her dress, clearly stuck firmly enough that it wouldn’t come out without a fair amount of force. She reached down and tugged it out of the ground.

“Well, Nikolai, I suppose we can agree that I was here? Or do I need to leave the knife in the ground for proof,” she said, wiping the dirt off of the knife as best she could on the remaining part of her dress, which was most of it, but she was entitled to some dramatics after what had happened. She would have to get rid of this dress anyway, especially since it was now missing a piece of the skirt.

Nikolai laughed, a bright sound, one that seemed rather out of place here. 

“Yes, I do think that everyone will believe your harrowing tale of the graveyard. Shall we head back now? It’s getting rather late.”

This time, it was Zoya who offered her hand. Nikolai took it, in silent agreement not to mention the fact that she had offered it, now or later.

Together they walked, hand in hand, back to the house where their friends were waiting. As they approached, Zoya could see firelight flickering through the window, and when Nikolai pulled the door open, she could hear them chatting and laughing. As soon as they had stepped inside, both Alina and Genya flew towards them, talking a mile a minute. Genya wanted to know why Zoya had been at the cemetery so long, Alina wanted to know if she’d seen a ghost. Or two ghosts. Maybe three, even, if she’d been lucky.

The four wandered back to the living room, Zoya assuring Genya that she hadn’t meant to stay as long as she had, and telling Alina that she’d seen exactly zero ghosts, ignoring her disappointed sigh.

Zoya sat again, feeling as though she’d be happy if she never had to leave this room again. It was warm from the fire, and the noise from her friends was comforting. She sank back into the couch, content just to sit here, with everyone, until morning.

[somersetmummy]

(A/N): This fic is part three of the continuation of the story taking place following book 1 chapter 11 (after being rescued by Sam from Sofia's closet). I’m sorry this took so long post, I’ve been dealing with some things in real life and unfortunately writing fell to the bottom of the list!

Series/Pairing: The Nanny Affair (M!Sam Dalton x MC Katie Hide)

Original characters - all property of PB: Katie Hide (MC), Sam Dalton, Jenny Blake, Robin Flores

New characters: (present in part 3 but not mentioned by name) Serena-Rose Warren, Tessa Finch, Lucinda Hansen

Rating/Content warning: 15+ (a little bit of lust & desire, a few naughty words but nothing graphic)

Word Count: Around 3000, I lost count!

Summary: While out with her friends, Katie bumps into a familiar face, will the night lead her home to Sam or elsewhere?

- Scroll to the bottom for bonus text messages and group chat -

Part Three

As the newest bar on the New York social scene, Atlas had drawn quite a crowd. Hopeful revellers huddle together in the queue outside teased by the sound of merriment within each time the door opens for one of the guest list elite. Katie tentatively approaches the doorman, politely name dropping her way in, wondering to herself in disbelief how this is in fact her life.

Once inside, the unmistakable energy of Jenny and the gang pulls her towards their table in the middle of the room, a melting pot of silken hair, sequins and stilettos, it's hard not to be captivated by the glamorous group she calls her friends.

As she cautiously makes a beeline for the table Jenny notices her approaching, her face lighting up in recognition of her friend. Looking effortlessly edgy as usual, her short dark hair matches the black silk tank top tucked into a feathered black mini skirt. She eyes Katie and unapologetically wolf whistles in her direction.

With her new found confidence, Katie removes her jacket and saunters over to her friends, inwardly basking in the attention of several male pairs of eyes drinking her in along the way. While skimming through the crowd, a blush spreads delicately across her neck and cheeks as she feels one pair of eyes in particular playing close attention. Before she can take a good look around she's embraced by an overly enthusiastic Jenny, almost knocking the wind out of her.

Grinning sincerely back at Jenny, she then moves to Lucinda, Serena and Tess in turn, hugging them tightly and instantly feeling herself relax more than she has done in months, all memories of the drama of her new life checked at the door.

When she had first moved from England for her grad programme, Katie met Jenny almost immediately. One unsuspecting Sunday morning, having escaped the deafening throbbing of heavy bass coming through the wall she shared with her neighbour, Katie was in need of a quiet space to seek refuge and study. She came across an unimposing coffee shop a few blocks away and was immediately drawn to the homey interior as she gazed through the window. As she stepped in, calm washed over her, it felt like home. Settled with her head in her books, it wasn't long before a tornado of colour, energy and expletives tore its way across the room towards her. Jenny.

Taken aback by the intrusion, Katie sat in dismay as this whirlwind of a person rambled on about needing some kind of cover story for being there as her ex sat at the other end of the room with a decidedly less chaotic redhead in his arms. Katie graciously agreed to play along and let Jenny sit with her. It wasn't long before the ex was forgotten as the two women got caught up in conversation, the more they learned about each other the more they found that despite being complete opposites, they blended effortlessly. From that day on, Jenny had taken Katie under her wing and the rest, as they say, is history.

A few minutes after settling on the tall metal stools at the pristine granite topped table, a bucket of Dom Perignon on ice arrives along with 5 glasses. The group look to one another, perplexed, nobody owning up to the extravagant order.

"With compliments of Mr Dalton..." the bartender explains before turning to head back to the heaving bar.

With only Jenny knowing the truth about her as yet un-named relationship with Sam, the rest of the girls just assume it's part of his flashy, rich guy MO, unaware that there could be any other meaning to this gesture than of him having the means to do something nice for his hard working nanny. Jenny on the other hand is about as subtle as a brick and leans in immediately, at least with the decency to lower her voice to a whisper.

"Someone's wanting to impress your friends...and it's working!!"

As Katie throws daggers at Jenny in response, she can't stop her lips from curling in amusement. Turning to take one of the glasses and join in with their toast to friendship, she feels a warmth radiating from her heart reminding of the incredible man waiting for her at home.

After a couple of hours of conversation and countless cocktails, the friends make their way down the stairs to the packed club in the basement, the chic modern décor highlighted by atmospheric blue lighting illuminating the room.

As she slips through the throngs of people to the middle of the dance floor Katie once again feels like someone is watching but can't pinpoint where they might be in the crowd, instead shrugging it off and throwing herself into dancing with the girls.

Unbeknown to her, the pair of dazzling green eyes which she felt boring into her belong to a very familiar face, still watching with a bemused smile as she dances sultrily to the rhythm of the music.

Completely entranced and thoroughly enjoying the view, Robin, who had been leaning against one of the VIP booths at the back of the room with a drink in hand, can't help but pull his phone out and capture the moment on camera.

His favourite past time of getting one over on his semi-brother had never been easier since meeting Katie. He'd quickly realised that flirting with her was a sure fire way to get under Sam's skin. Without a second thought, his fingers get to work tapping away on his phone's screen. As expected, a barrage of messages are swiftly returned warning him against doing anything remotely 'Robin'.

Rolling his eyes and with a heightened sense of determination, he pockets his phone and downs the rest of his drink licking the lingering taste of whiskey from his lips. He has no intention of listening to his brother's warning to stay away, after all Sam isn't here and surely what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Completely oblivious to him moving towards her, he cuts through the crowed with laser precision until he's standing a hairs breath away from the delicious porcelain skin of her back. Her cheeks once again tingle with blush and the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as she feels the same, now familiar, gaze upon her once more. This time the intensity courses through her body, urging her to turn around.

Cautiously spinning on her heel, a short gasp stifled by a giggle escapes her as her eyes lock on Robin's mischievous grin. He beams at her, challenging her as his hands reach shamelessly for her waist.

"You look amazing out here," he quips, "but I think this song sounds better when you're dancing with someone."

Her cocktail induced daze prevents her from thinking about objecting. Instead, rising to his challenge, she throws him a playful smile and turns back around, pressing her hips into his crotch and swaying seductively to the music.

His hands delicately slide up from her waist, his fingertips stroking the bare skin of her back before caressing her neck and finally moving up her arms to meet with her hands which skim through the air as she sways. Their fingers interlock as he pulls her arms back down to her hips, spinning her round to face him, both breathless.

Instinctively she throws her arms around his neck while his swiftly fall to the small of her back, igniting small sparks up and down her spine.

Robin can't quite believe his luck and thanks his lucky stars that he accepted the last minute invitation to join some old friends at the hottest new bar in town, when what he had really wanted to do after his long day was go home and order pizza.

They move to the music together for a few songs, comfortable with each other's presence and both enjoying the close attention they so rarely receive from anyone else.

Perhaps it's because of their shared experience of looking in on the Dalton's world from the sidelines, but there's something so familiar and natural about being this close to Robin and a kind of ease she's never felt with any man before.

Sure, Sam insists that there is something real between them, she feels it too and their undeniable magnetism between proves there's a connection. But he's never committed 100% to her, at the end of each day he still goes to bed engaged to someone else and she can't help sometimes feeling like she's just an observer to his life.

Lost in their blissful cocoon, it isn't until another pair of hands snake around her waist that she is reminded of where they are. Warm breath from lipgloss stained lips tickles her ear causing her to take a step back from Robin, sobering her to their surroundings.

"Babe, we're heading over to the bar for a refresh, time to leave lover boy!"

Jenny winks at Robin, unapologetically looking him over like he's a piece of meat she wants to devour. She clearly doesn't realise that 'lover boy' is in fact Sam's brother, a fact which Katie doesn't intend to share. She can only imagine the probing that would follow if Jenny knew the truth.

"I'll be right there."

She offers a gentle push to Jenny's rear, encouraging her to move on. Fortunately she complies and slinks off towards the bar, not before giving an impressed nod, clearly approving of Katie's dancing partner.

Turning back to Robin, the space between them has grown and the anticipation in the air dissipated as they reluctantly realise their time together has come to an end.

Without missing a beat, Robin flashes a devilish smile as he steps close once again, reaching for her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Until next time Katie..."

He shifts even closer causing her heart to skip a beat. His hand caressing her cheek as it slides through her delicate tresses tilting her head upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into hers for what fees like an eternity before his lips tantalisingly brush against her ear.

"Unless you want to take this back to my place?"

Her breath catches as a warm glow rushes through her veins. The question hangs in the air around them like a fog clouding her judgement.

Of the two brothers, Robin is by far the easier choice, he is after all available without any strings attached.

His stature is much the same as Sam's, his skin slightly lighter, with a similar warm tone. But the eyes....those dazzling emerald green eyes which she could get lost in, framed by delicate laughter lines painted across his beautiful face. His relaxed demeanour and ability to always smile no matter what is going on around him is infectious.

Yes, being with Robin would be easier, life simpler and undoubtedly endlessly fun but as she stares back into those hypnotising green eyes, their foreheads touching, she realises with a pang in her heart that it undeniably belongs to someone else.

In defeat she licks her lips, a small movement which immediately captures Robin's attention, and shakes her head in reply.

"Oh Robin, as tempting as that sounds, I think we'd be wise to go out separate ways tonight."

He returns her smile with a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Can't blame a guy for trying. I guess I'll just have to wait until next time"

Winking, he slips away into the crowd like a ghost and for a moment she wonders whether he was even there at all.

After making her way back to the penthouse in a daze, Katie gingerly steps out of the elevator, tiptoeing carefully down the hall. Her heart skips a beat as she catches sight of Sam fast asleep on the couch.

She can't help but smile to herself as her eyes trace the outline of his sleeping body, that magnetism she so often feels when she’s around him pulling her across the room until she's standing over him.

He looks beautiful, peaceful, almost vulnerable. She realises she's never seen him sleep before and hopes it’s not too creepy to stay and watch him for a few minutes as she slinks down to sit on the footstool between the couch and the coffee table, her knees brushing against Sam's thighs.

Lying on his side, his strong arms are folded across his chest as if protecting himself like armour. His chiselled chest gently rises and falls with each breath, eyelashes fluttering delicately as he dreams, his lips slightly apart, tempting her to kiss them.

She leans closer to him, elbows resting on her bare knees. A curl of his dark silken hair has fallen in front of his eyes and she tenderly stroke it back across his forehead and he involuntarily smiles at her touch.

Staring down at this beautiful man a realisation rushes into her mind like a car speeding out of control. She is completely and utterly, hopelessly in love with Sam Dalton.

Mind slightly fuzzy, her cocktail induced confidence and new realisation makes her brave, encouraging her to gently press her lips to his while cupping his face with her warm hand. He responds immediately by sliding his arm around her waist, kissing back softly, still half asleep. She leans closer still, lips grazing the top of his ear, her voice a whisper.

"I'm home, it's late, you should've gone to bed."

His eyes flicker open, adoration pouring over her, his hand still clinging to her waist.

"I couldn't sleep until I knew you were home safe"

Her lips curl in amusement. "You do realise I’ve just woken you up right?!”

Laughing softly to himself, he sits up so his knees are touching hers and their eyes lock while they share a secret smile reserved only for each other. He runs his hand through his hair and checks the time on his Rolex.

"Oh man, I didn't realise it had gotten so late....did you have a good time with your friends?"

"It was amazing. I miss seeing them...as much as I love being here with you and the boys I've realised it's still good for me to have some time for myself."

He softly skims his hands up her thighs, his slightest touch stoking the fire within.

"Of course, I want that for you too."

Leaning in to one another, the air crackles between them, their night apart building as much desire as any foreplay. As the space between them closes, their breath tangles together. The drumming of their heartbeats the only sound they can hear, until the shrill cry of Katie’s phone cuts through the air.

Pausing with their foreheads resting together they both turn to stare at it willing it to stop, but the phones persistence echoes around the room as it continues to ring.

"That'll be Jenny checking I've got home...I'd better answer or she'll keep ringing." She sighs, hesitantly pulling away from Sam while lifting the phone to her ear.

"Hey Jen.”

Sam’s whole body slouches, visibly defeated. He shakes his head before lightly kissing her cheek as he stands, the moment regrettably over.

"Goodnight Katie" he sighs quietly, so only she hear.

Jenny animatedly chatters on about the hot cab driver who asked for her number, though Katie barely hears her as she zones out watching Sam's back retreating to the boys room to check on them before he goes to bed.

"Goodnight Sam" she sighs in resignation, her words swallowed by the now empty room.

TAG list: @shewillreadyou @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @chemist-ana

- Bonus -

Text messages between Katie and Sam after the champagne.

Text messages between Robin and Sam about Katie.

Girls group chat the morning after, completely unrelated, just for fun, just to show their dynamic!

[shamelessllamapeanutthing]

Huh. So. Until I find you.

Fucking UNTIL I FIND YOU

It's winding down, close to its end now and I realised that while I was writing the last chapter and it fucking blew my mind. I've been working on this fic for. So. Long.

It was easily my most ambitious project and so many times I felt I bit off more than I could chew. It has multiple incredibly complex characters all involved in mini wars with themselves and with each other and it is insane that I have managed to carry this story as far as I have because I do not do conflict. Even irl I am a very straightforward person. You're either someone I like, trust and enjoy the company of or you're out of my fucking life. I so do not fuck with the weird, complex, emotionally charged situations that make up for the background of that story. Every single day ever since I realised that the story is about to end, I haven't stopped marveling at how I managed to come this far with it.

All of the frustrating back and forth, the miscommunication and the mistakes that demand guilt and smother apologies. All of the tears and the pain and Yuri's teenage angst. Victor's hurt, Angelina's anger, Yuuri's clumsy attempts to be there for Victor while still trying to remain true to himself, all of it. So much of it. It's coming to an end and I am so emotional about it all.

On one hand, I am sure everyone will be glad for the conclusion because omg are these characters fucking driving me and all of my readers insane, but also, I feel like I'd be doing away with such a huge part of me. Ugh, I can't-

To think that mammoth was originally supposed to be a oneshot lol.

Thinking about that fic, reminds me of this one comment-

This comment literally made me cry. It did. Because in my head, that story went in black and white too. Narrative voices always have colours in my head and Until I Find You was b/w. To see those words looking back at me in this comment. I can't fucking explain the sense of joy I felt. It was bloody bonkers I had managed to portray my thoughts on paper so well. I did a mini dance when I saw that comment. Maybe it won't be a huge deal with others out there, I am sure the commenter didn't even realise teh effect of their words but to me, it meant the world. This story meant the world.

It's my most read and loved work. I cant even express the type of way all of those comments made me feel. I had only written for smaller fandoms/rarepairs before. The attention on Until I Find You was overwhelming to me even though the fic would still be considered relatively small in the fandom itself. When I say it is everything to me, I mean it.

This whole story was such an experiment. The plot, the themes, the writing style, the narrative voice all of it were things I had never tried out before. A lot of my readers mentioned they had never seen a premise like that in the fandom, and on my best days I took that as a compliment. Sometimes though, the truth of that fact meant the pressure on me was insane. I had started something bigger than me and I didn't know if I could keep up the quality of my content. I still don't know if I have but I have sure as fuck tried.

So now this is gonna end and it's going to be bittersweet but it's also going to be bloody insane. I am hella excited, nervous and just in general feeling like a mess over it. I hope the ending is loved as much as this story was ❤️

Ask by @luxahheart thanks for letting me ramble about it.

[infinites-chaser]

val’s mementos

(or: a working masterlist of my mlqc fics created mostly for my own sanity)

everything on this list has also been posted to my ao3!

currently accepting prompts from this prompt meme~

(while i will do my very best to fill every prompt with writing that i’m proud of pls keep in mind that some may take longer than others for any amount of reasons!)

Lucien

dark night fireworks- my first (published) mlqc fic <333 2nd person and entirely too pretentious (rumor has it even the author doesn’t really know what she was trying to convey except. n e u r o s c i e n c e and MEMORY is cool). slight spoilers for ch.16

watch the universe expand- a long, rambly attempt to explore lucien’s character and also evolutionary biology and evols told through excessive metaphor and bedtime stories. spoilers for lucien’s childhood and ch.13. im proud of this one ^^ though there is a lot of projection involved. also lucien is an enneagram five.

to dwell on- c: lucien and homes and him and mc being soft together that’s it <3 or in more coherent language some bittersweet fluff for lucien’s bday based on moments from his mini-house and his most recent bday karma + date. in hindsight i’ve realized i didn’t use his or MC’s name at all outside of dialogue LOL

king lear and other tragedies- a prompt for the librarian ask meme linked above! im p sure anon prompted me a month before i got around to actually writing an answer hndkslgj but. here we are. shakespeare and tragedies and parallels between characters and a lot of pretentious dialogue, meant to be an extension of/missing scene after lucien’s theater date. this only rly exists bc of a single line in the date mentioning the production being put on was king lear and i took that and ran for all it was worth

Gavin

just a summer thing- a short little scenario that manifested in my head one warm summer night when i should’ve been sleeping and my first foray into domestic!gavin territory <333 i’d say it’s probably one of my lightest fics, if not the lightest ahfksldg (also heavily inspired by the way @belovedstill writes gavin/mc pst basia’s fics are to die for)

under a golden sun- high school era gavin, MC and minor! originally intended for gavin’s bday except (1) i didn’t finish on time LOL and (2) the fic never mentions his bday oops. also in 2nd person though if you asked why i couldn’t tell you it just felt more right. ft. basketball and memories and a bit of bittersweet nostalgia. simultaneously has some of what i think is my weakest writing (in terms of pacing/consistent tone imo) and some of my favorite lines i’ve ever written for a gavin fic and i’ve come to appreciate it more over time bc of that c:

today, this is the whole universe (and that’s okay)- gavin, MC, and domestic, sleepy sundays. and a long ao3 title that’s it that’s the fic (narrator: and then, she never wrote anything purely fluffy ever again). heavily inspired by gavin’s sleepy morning asmr and that one clip of his cn voice actor playing/humming his theme (aka soft soft SOFTEST) also just. i said it already but all of my domestic!gavin is inspired by and exists thanks to the breathtaking writing of @belovedstill <333

in the wind- a semi(?)exploration of gavin’s wind but also just him loving mc bc that’s what he and his evol are all about. short and bittersweet <3 (if anyone’s keeping track i think this is where my writing starts to lean more on the uhhh descriptive side and becomes less dialogue-based? or i feel there’s a diff from this writing style compared to the earlier gavin fics (besides parts of under a golden sun) which is just interesting for me to think about but not relevant to the fic itself ahfklsdf) 

winter’s end- winter world!gavin and mc and a softer, more bittersweet reunion. m a j o r spoilers for ch.22 and what comes before. also gavin’s past. it hurt to write and apparently hurts to read b u t there’s a happy ending. i promise c:

sunrise to noon- a secret santa fic that ended up being less holiday related than I originally intended but like all things domestic and Gavin I think it works well as it is <3 just tender winter mornings and domesticity and the return of my fluff writing

Kiro

falling down the stairs of your smile- this was a prompt for the librarian prompt meme and doesn’t have an official title on the ask but here’s the title in all its long all-lowercase ao3 glory. basically the first few chapters from kiro’s perspective with slight spoilers from his past! kiro is such a joy to write and i love this a lot and im super glad i got the opportunity to write this (the waY i banged this out in one night when i got the ask askfsdkfksl)

[deleted by Key]- i have an idea and i’m s u p e r excited about it but no spoilers except this quote: ‘But that is how a tragedy like ours or King Lear breaks your heart— by making you believe that the ending might still be happy, until the very last minute.’- If We Were Villains, M.L. Rio.

Victor

Of Corgis and Christmas- a secret santa present for a victor stan that conjured some fluffy victor writing from my victor-less heart,,, a christmas miracle aND im lowkey proud of how it turned out but the highlights of the fic are Goldman and Cindy T-T they deserve more screentime and someday. i will write the subplot that got cut where Goldman sends Cindy embarrassing Victor stories to try to impress her and MC helps :>

spend my whole life searching- i combined 2 victor librarian asks from the librarian prompt meme above would u believe he's the only suitor I got twice 😔 this man is so popular and for what (only kidding ahdjdjs we just have a relationship of mutual disapproval dont mind me dragging him just a little i need to compensate for the appreciation I developed for him while writing this :>) this is similar to the kiro librarian fic in that it kinda gives vic's perspective on victor/MC's first in-game meeting with a healthy dose of and they were soulmates and angsty longing™ and also. victor is an enneagram one

Shaw

i started a few things a long time ago for him maybe someday i’ll finish them :’)

[irwingiggling]

friends of friends. | pt. 1

A/N: Sooo guess who’s back with a new fic?! Please let me know what you guys think, and if you want me to continue this - I have lots of ideas for it! If you enjoyed it, please give it a like so I know people are interested in reading more :) The band does exist in this fic, but it’s more of a casual thing and none of the boys are famous. In this fic I tried to really focus on the characterization and in improving my writing, so yeah this is my little passion project rn while I’m in quarantine. [Also a little shoutout to @cakesunflower​, I don’t know her at all but her fics (wglylm, quiet hours, etc.) and her writing is honestly incredible and she was one of the many awesome writers on here who inspired me to start this. :)]

Word Count: 2,100+

Rating: PG-13 (mentions of alcohol, swearing)

---

"Who's Calum?" Audrey was perched over a tall wooden stool, hands around a mug of steaming hot coffee. Her short brown hair landed just above her shoulders, cascading perilously towards her coffee as she stared down her friend, a sly smile on her face.

"Just a friend of a friend," Rose replied with a shrug.

Audrey's eyebrows arched in response, unsatisfied with Rose's answer.

"No seriously. I barely know him, I met him the other day at some get together Nina dragged me to."

At mention of the other girl, a smile crept onto Audrey's face. "Damn, Nina. How's she doing?" The three were close friends back in university, sharing a dorm for two years. But after school, they'd all started to go their separate ways. Nina was in public relations. A true socialite, she loved meeting new people, and could keep up conversation for hours. Since landing her new job as an assistant for some small music company, she'd managed to drag Rose along to various parties and social gatherings with increasing frequency. The two lived on opposite sides of town in Boston, but remained decently close despite this. On the other hand, Audrey had moved back home to Michigan after school, and the two didn't see her very often at all.

"She's good. Still a true extrovert." Rose said with a gentle shake of her head.

"Gotta love that girl. She was always a go-getter." Audrey laughed, taking a sip of the creamy drink.

In contrast to Nina, Rose would describe herself as a simple person. She had her little apartment, her work, a well-stocked supply of coffee, and her dog, Olive - who she'd somehow managed to sneak under her apartment's 60lb weight limit. Everything else was extra, but as long as she had those few essentials, she was perfectly content. Though as a recent university grad who was still working part-time at a coffee shop, and taking whatever freelance work she could on the side, she didn't have a lot of room for extravagances anyway. In contrast, Audrey found a job as a radio broadcaster back home right out of school, and could now afford to make the flight down to see her girls.

"Anyways don’t try and change the subject, you haven't had a man in your life in ages!" Audrey exclaimed, teasingly poking a finger against the arm of Rose's blue sweater.

Rose gave her head a faint shake, smiling gently. She had no doubt Nina had already recounted the entire work gathering to Audrey over one of her long-winded FaceTime calls. Nina had a way of getting carried away with the stories she told, which likely meant their distant observation of Calum had morphed into a much closer brush than it actually was.

----

She vaguely remembered him from that last work event. He was easily recognizable by his dark curly hair, tanned skin, and youthful appearance, especially since the vast majority of others mingling looked to be in their late 30s. Rose caught drifts of conversations about sales and pitches and various public relations-related stuff. She had caught him looking over at her during one of the speeches. When she met his gaze he'd turned away.

"Who's that?" she asked, tugging lightly on Nina's arm. Nina was in the middle of rambling about some publication technique to boost online views.

"Oh, him? That's Calum. He's a member of one of the newer bands the company's signed. Seems decent, haven't really had a chance to chat with him yet."

Calum.

She never got the guts to go over and talk to him that night, even though he looked like one of the only people who was actually having a decent time, chatting animatedly with an equally tall guy around his age, drink in hand. Instead, she stayed by Nina's side, letting her talkative friend fill the silence and introduce her to many people whose names she would inevitably forget.

---

It was two weeks later, and Nina had caught Rose off guard yet again, getting her to agree to another one of her work parties before Rose even really knew what she was saying yes to. The term ‘party’ was an exaggeration, to say the least. Only the watered-down drinks and the 70s hits playing at a whisper in the background gave the faintest suggestion that this was a party. Rather, it was a way for people at Nina’s company to schmooze with those from other nearby labels and PR companies, collaborating on techniques, getting insider information on new signings and album releases. And Nina was so thrilled at the prospect of sharing her knowledge and making new friends, that Rose felt obligated to say yes. However, not knowing a thing about the music industry or public relations made it difficult to relate to any of the conversations, so she often found herself glued to Nina’s side, maintaining an appropriate amount of nods and smiles to the people Nina talked to, waiting for the agonizingly slow clock to tick down. She sharply reminded herself to not give in to Nina’s pleas again, that this would be the last time she would let her Friday nights turn out like this.

Letting her thoughts wander, she remembered catching a vague glimpse of the dark-haired man earlier on in the night, but she hadn't seen him at all in the past half-hour, and figured he'd gone home. She wished she could leave too, but sadly Nina was her ride, which meant she'd be here for a while longer. By this time Rose was frankly sick of Nina's incessant chatter, and with feigning enjoyment in meeting random people she truly had no interest in.

She politely excused herself from the conversation, and made her way towards the kitchen, in the hopes she could scrounge up another drink to get her through the night. Taking a look around the kitchen, she let out a small sigh when she didn't see any alcohol. However, her eyes landed on the same curly-haired man from earlier. So this was where he'd been hiding out. His cheeks flushed a vague tinge of pink at seeing he'd been discovered, but he let out a relieved breath when he saw that it was her. One of the only other people here around his age, who didn't seem like she'd want to chatter endlessly about the management side of music.

"Hey, I remember you." He stood facing her, a gentle smile on his face. "Calum," he introduced, taking a hand out of his pocket and extending it towards her.

"Rose," she replied, lips curving into a smile as she shook his hand, his larger one temporarily enveloping hers.

"Nice to meet you," he nodded. "Do you work here?" He was sure if he'd seen her before that he would have remembered.

"No, I'm actually a struggling arts major," she confessed with a small chuckle. "My friend dragged me here. Nina."

"Oh," Calum nodded, eyes flashing lightly in recognition of a name he couldn't quite place. "The really… social one?" He asked hesitantly towards the end, unsure exactly how to phrase it.

"Yeah, you can’t miss her,” Rose said, giving her head a small shake in amusement. She felt a sense of relief as Calum's light chuckle flooded her ears.

"So I'm kind of hiding out here right now," he began, looking past her for a second to the crowd of people mingling past the doorway, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he confirmed none of the guests were interested in pulling him into another conversation.

She chuckled lightly, moving to place her empty glass near the sink. "Do you come to these kinds of things often?"

"Not really," he shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "But the label wanted me to make an appearance. Somehow I keep drawing the short end of the stick this month for that kind of stuff."

She laughed, glad she didn't have to pretend this was an enjoyable party.

"It's kinda.. stuffy?" he added, nose scrunching at the word.

She nodded in complete understanding. "Yeah. A lot of middle-aged record and publication people. Not exactly my crowd either."

"Tell me about it," Calum sighed, taking a long sip of his fruity drink. "And this was all I could find," he added half-heartedly, raising the glass.

She chuckled, trying to muffle her amusement at the strange drink that didn't seem to quite fit with his look. The vividly coloured mini umbrella and bright purple liquid contrasted sharply with the metal rings that adorned his tanned fingers and the tattoos peeking out from his shirt collar.

Noting her amusement with his drink of choice, his eyes began to light up, and he chuckled along with her.

"I figured," she said, fighting to contain her smile. This only served to make him more amused, a full-blown laugh bubbling out from his full, pink lips. His laugh seemed too pure, too alive for this subdued party.

They stood in silence for a couple beats, letting the low buzz from the various people in the room flood their ears again, before Calum drained the rest of his drink in a gulp. "Did you wanna get out of here?" He asked, setting his empty glass down on the counter beside hers, gesturing vaguely to the direction of the front door.

"Oh!" She wasn't able to mask her surprise, eyebrows rising and a faintly amused but apologetic look on her face. "Wow, um… I think you're great, I really do, but that's just not quite something that I'm-"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her response. He tilted his head slightly to one side, lips parted, as he tried to figure her out. Eventually his lips curved into a smile and a gentle laugh erupted from his mouth as he realized where she was going with this. "Shit, I meant food. My bad."

And then she was blushing profusely, wanting to melt into the floor in embarrassment because how could she fuck that up? She sighed, letting out a small whine of contempt, and when she finally got the courage to look back up at him, he was watching her, eyes sparkling. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, trying half-heartedly to contain the smile that still graced his face at her expense.

"Yeah, ok." She nodded, letting out a small chuckle. "I can do food."

---

She didn't quite know how she ended up at the fast-food place at 10pm, seated in a tiny booth across from Calum, watching the curly-haired man munching happily away on fries, their knees occasionally knocking against each other.

When he looked at her it was as if he was looking into her. His dark curls cascaded over his forehead, a hint of stubble on his jaw. His eyes were soft and dark brown. They crinkled around the edges when he laughed and they felt like home. It was weird for her, to feel that way with a stranger. But in many ways Calum felt more like an old friend. Like someone she'd known all her life and was just reconnecting with. At this point in the night he was beginning to look tired and sleepy, but just when she thought he was losing interest, his eyes would light up at a funny comment, and it would bring her in closer, creating the most comfortable, at ease feeling deep in her stomach. That night she learned Calum had a wicked dry sense of humour, and that his warm laugh sounded like honey.

They were there for over an hour, long after the remnants of their burgers had gone cold. Only the buzzing of the neon sign in the front window, and the quiet shuffling of the lone staff member were background noise to their conversation.

Eventually they decided to part ways, both tired and content from the night. They put their empty trays in the garbage, and left. Outside they stood only a few steps apart, trying to use each other's bodies to evade the cold wind blowing through the empty parking lot. It was already April in Boston, but some nights still felt like winter.

"Alright," he said, tugging the hood of his jacket over his head so only a few curls poked out. "Get home safe, ok?"

"I will. You too, Calum."

She turned to leave, but his fingertips brushed across the fabric of her jacket. She looked up, the movement garnering her attention. His tongue darted across his bottom lip, brown eyes searching her own.

"We're doing a little show at The Reign next Saturday night. You should come, if you want."

"Yeah I'd love to. I'll be there."

And then he was smiling, hands buried in his pockets. She took a step back and gave him a wave, which he returned, watching her for a few moments before turning in the direction of his own apartment.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

What do YOU know about love?

Alright, here’s the second Song-fic! I’ve learned that some of these are going to be mini series things within the overall world. I’m thinking Steve’s will have two more parts and this one will definitely be a three parter. I already have songs for Tony, Loki, and Bucky around the corner so keep a look out for those! And the sequels to this and Steve’s. :)

Summary: Various Avenger x Reader one-shots with songs from musicals. In this one — Sam is in utter disbelief at the hope you have in your blind date, but in the end is it really his place to say otherwise? Sam X Reader (eventually), OC X Reader (<- that part ain’t gonna last long, just be patient!) (Song is “What do you know about love” from the Frozen Soundtrack.)

Warnings: Bit of fluff and teasing from our beloved Sammy boy, lotta arguing because you, the reader, are stubborn as shit, and there’s cussing. Sam really does love being right and proving you wrong.

Word Count: 4275 words

Please don’t post my work anywhere without my permission. :)

Never would he ever listen to Barton about working with a new partner. New partners required adjusting, patience, and Bucky had taught him that those particular traits were something he personally lacked in. That was okay. Eventually their rivalry developed a level of trust and respect that he could work with. Not every one was Steve Rogers.

But then Clint went and requested that he partner with someone else for a mission. Her. She made working with Bucky feel like a ride in the park. He’d gladly lose a thousand steering wheels to the Winter Soldier if it meant never having to go on another mission with this agent. She was stubborn, rarely listened to his instructions, hotheaded, so focused that she sometimes focused on the wrong thing — And oh yeah.

She was a fucking badass.

That detail just made it more infuriating because she had earned her arrogance. Back in the day, she would reprogram Tony’s suits for the hell of it and even helped with Rhodey’s design after the accident. She’d been on missions with Clint and Natasha. She’d been one of those to survive the snap and during that time she had spent time keeping Clint alive while he was blinded by his rage. Since Thanos was defeated, she’d spent most of her time on vacation in Wakanda, saying she’d earned it.

Until Clint called her in. She’d always answer Clint. They had some weird bond he couldn’t understand. Maybe it was some brother/sister thing? Because he really didn’t like the idea of it being more.  

Not that he was thinking about you in relationships or liking anyone or anything.

“Are you even listening, Wilson?”

He looked up, finally focusing on Y/N who had been rambling on about the mission. Oh yeah, that’s what had gotten him on that whole rant in his head. She was telling him about details of the mission that he already knew. Why did she have to treat him like an idiot? Why did she always insist on calling him by his last name? Why was he the only one she called by his last name? 

“I know the mission, Y/N. Had it memorized long before Clint asked you to help me out.”

You snorted, smirking as you tucked your gun into the strap on your thigh. “Well, sorry, but staring off into space with googley eyes doesn’t exactly scream confidence in regards to a mission.”

“I did not have,” he grimaced. “Googley eyes.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes, the corner of your lips tugged into that knowing smile that he really wanted to wipe off. What was it with the people he kept meeting and their arrogance? Why couldn’t he be working with Bucky? “Look, you don’t have to like working with me. Bucky will be back from Wakanda before you know it.”

“I never thought I’d see the day I missed working with that pain in the ass.”

You laughed and, though he hated to admit it, he liked that he got that reaction out of you. When you relaxed like that, your eyes sparkled. You seemed at ease and those lines on your face, holding years of stress, actually vanished. “No one ever expects to warm up to people like Clint and Bucky. We just kinda do.” 

He chuckled, adjusting the straps to his wings. “Ain’t that right?”

You watched as the hangar to the jet opened, parachute securely strapped to your back. You tightened your grip on the plane as your hair whipped around your face. He stepped just behind you, the building, their target, looking extremely small from their spot in the air. “Now, come on,” you told him, stepping forward. “I got a hot date tonight.” 

He tensed as you ran off the plane, practically doing a swan dive just to show off while he gaped at your form. You had a what?

—

When they finally breached the building, slipping inside undetected, the questions started. He tried telling himself he was looking out for you. Clint would want that and, speaking of, did the arrow-shooting Avenger even know about your date? Was a background check done? What if the guy was HYDRA? What if they were some villain taking advantage and trying to gain access to records that SHIELD hadn’t lost during Natasha’s public release? What if —

What if the guy wasn’t good enough for you?

“Are you seriously going to keep badgering me with these questions?” The clear annoyance in your voice was enough to make him smirk. He liked that he got under your skin. It meant he had some sort of effect on you. Albeit, a little less positive than he would like.

Make that a couple thousand steering wheels lost to the Winter Soldier.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he had to ask all these questions. You were attractive, he admitted that. Your H/C made your E/C stand out all the more, fathomless with emotions and secrets he wouldn’t mind spending a few decades figuring out. Your skillset and determination to finish a mission had earned his respect. It wasn’t just that you were attractive. You were interesting.

“Come on, humor me,” he said as you took quick strides to the computer. He glanced back at the door, playing lookout while you stole and wiped information from their target’s computers. It was a personal request from Fury.

“He’s not a stranger. My friend just wanted to set me up on a blind date. He promised the guy was hot and who was I to turn down a meal and a decent conversation?”

“You, an agent, are going on a blind date?” He smirked. That was rich. “So what’s his last name?”

You rolled your eyes, fingers lying along the keys before you plugged in your flash-drive. “None of your business.” You were struggling not to take the bait. After all, you two hadn’t known each other outside a few rocky missions and Thanos.

His smirk turned into a grin as he leaned against the wall. “That’s not a last name.”

Huffing, you spun around and placed a hand on your hip. That fire in your eyes was back. “You have opinions on my life and my relations, but let me tell you what —“

“Okay.” He shrugged. “Enlighten me.” You faltered, biting your tongue. How could you tell the Sam Wilson, the Falcon, an Avenger and  ex-partner of Captain America that you believed in fairytales? Mockingly, he asked, “Love is the one thing that has zero complications?”

Your frustration immediately molded itself into a glare. “And I can trust my gut.”

Sam outright laughed, holding up his hands. “Okay, you frighten me.”

You took a slow breath, trying to visibly relax as you turned your attention back to the computer. “Some people know their hearts the minute true love starts.”

“Some people read a lot of books,” he mocked, pushing himself off the wall. You seemed dead set on having faith that this date would turn out better than okay.

“I like books.” Running a hand through your hair, you added, “Some people simply know when true love says hello.” Wasn’t that what happened with Clint and his girl? Wasn’t that at least a possibility for you? Just some random bit of happiness? 

Sam walked towards you, amused because he never would have expected you to like fairytales. He never would have thought you hoped for that. Not with your line of work. “Some folks are taken in by curly locks and princely looks,” he reminded, tugging on a strand of your hair. 

You swatted his hand away, straightening and turning to face him. You wanted to make a dig, tell him something that would actually put him in his place. “He does have princely looks! We agree on that one.”

He snorted, twirling your hair around his finger as he asked, “Didn’t you say it was a blind date?”

Oops. You clenched your fist, not wanting to back down from his arrogance. “So I did a bit of digging. Doesn’t matter.”

“By the way,” he asked as you turned back to the computer. He leaned forward, his breath brushing the back of your neck and ear as he asked, “What color eyes does he have?”

You glanced up, gaze shifting just above the computer and to the wall of windows revealing the snowy mountains just outside. You jerked your elbow back, colliding with a couple ribs. He grunted, finally taking a step back as you smirked. One word. “Dreamy.”

“All I’m saying is when you go to climb a mountain, you don’t just jump to the top.” His voice was winded, weak as he tried to dull the ache in his gut. You had a pointy elbow.

“If it’s true love you can.”

Great. His partner wasn’t just hopeful. You were delusional. “There’s scalin’ and scramblin’ and too many steps for countin’. And the work doesn’t stop.” He was right. You both knew it. Eventually the honeymoon phase ended and everything in a relationship required work to last. You weren’t in denial about that detail, but with everything else in your life requiring so much work, it was nice to at least hope that a relationship might not be so chaotic.

Plus, you really just wanted to prove him wrong. “Maybe for you. Aren’t you the guy whose partners were and are the Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes? You have your own chaos and work to focus on. Stay out of mine.” 

“Love’s not an easy climb, Y/N. You have to take your time.” Was that concern you heard? From Wilson of all people?

“We get a whole life.” You unplugged the flash-drive, pocketing it before getting to work on completely wiping the system. “That’s the plan.”

“That’s not a plan!” He laughed, partially from disbelief and partially because he hoped you couldn’t be completely serious. You really couldn’t be, right? “Love’s not a thing you get. It’s work and tears and sweat.”

“So says a sweaty, smelly, Avenger…man.”

“Nice insult.” He smirked before asking, “What do you know about love?”

“What do you know about love,” you snapped right back. He wasn’t just under your skin. He was burying himself, making a new home in your nerves. “Have you even kissed a girl?” He opened his mouth to answer and you smirked, looking at him as you added, “I mean a human girl.”

“Ouch.”

“Done.” The computer glitched, flashing once before becoming a blank screen of nothing. Success. “What do you know about anything?”

“Anything?” Voices down the hall made you both look behind you. Someone was coming. Your lookout had gotten a little too distracted. 

“Come on.” He grabbed your arm, leading you to another door. Opening it, a gust of wind and flurry of snow collided with you both. Instantly your nose turned red and you sniffled. You hated the cold. “Anyone with half a brain would have worn some winter gear.” 

You glanced back, the sound of incoming footsteps making you tense. Pushing him out the door, you followed and slammed the door shut. In front of you was a long bridge of sorts, thin railing caging you in that did next to nothing to protect from the steep drop on either side. Perhaps a quarter of a mile to your left was a similar set up, the two sides connecting with towers and bridges that seemed to create a medieval sort of square. Just inside? Soldiers training. From this height? There was no way they could see you. Not with the snow. “Anyone with half a life would have one friend who’s not a super.”

“I do!” His voice was indignant, carried by the wind as you pushed him towards the opposite side. A tall tower that gave them the opportunity to scale down and get to safety. That was their destination. That was their escape. Looking over your shoulder, he pulled out his gun and aimed it behind as you aimed it across the way. Both of you had each others backs as you crept along. “Any fool who jumps headlong is gonna bang their head,” he told you, smirking at the idea of one of those idiots trying to attack them. 

But there was always one idiot.

From across the way, it seemed you had been spotted. The person had to have been enhanced. Both of you were in camouflage that would have kept you hidden from the naked eye. A siren flooded your ears, causing you to wince as you spotted them. You took your shot, your own abilities making it possible to see the snitch. 

One bullet.

You pulled the trigger, your silencer muting the weapon before hearing the familiar sound of blunt force against metal. You barely had time to register that your aim was perfect. The Enhanced fell. Looking at the door you two had escaped from, you knew they were trying to get through. The problem was, their alarms had sent a trigger to bolt the door shut. It was supposed to keep Sam and you within the confines of the room. 

But even the enemy’s plans could backfire.

“Any fool who doesn’t jump right now is gonna probably end up dead,” you warned, looking over the edge. Sam’s wings would be enough. At least to get to safety. 

“Are you serious? You’re asking me to fly in this weather?” he asked, reading your mind.

“Not asking. Telling.” You grabbed his arm, flipping him over the rail and away from those who saw you as a target.

“Agent!” His voice was angry, indignant. Fine, lecture you later. You knew what you were doing.  You leaned back against the railing, shooting the door twice. You heard metal slide, reinforcing the door because the computers thought you were attempting to escape from the inside. Sometimes tech simply couldn’t substitute for the real thing, the real eye. A person wouldn’t make that mistake.

“Time to go,” you murmur, leaning back and flipping over the icy metal. It was only a brief moment of cold air rushing against your skin before you felt a pair of hands wrap around you, catching you and pulling you into a warm chest. 

Sam. 

For once you were grateful for the soldier, knowing fully well that if it had been Bucky, your whole body would be freezing because of his arm. Natasha? You’d have to use a grappling hook. Same with Clint. Tony’s idea would be to have you contained in a metal suit of armor. No, Sam Wilson was, for once, a much better option than any of the other Avengers.

Well, maybe not for once.

“You okay there?” he asked, voice muffled against the wind. Or was it because your ear was pinned against his chest and his voice was more of a rumble than a muffle? He flew up and out, gaining distance. 

Icy needles seemed to poke at your skin from the rush of wind and you found yourself burying your face in his chest. Not seeking his warmth, but rather protection from the elements. “I’ve been better.”

He chuckled, but you felt it more so than actually hearing it. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“Told you to listen to me.” You looked up at him, cocky smirk in place. Oh, how he wished he could wipe that smirk off your face. “I know danger when I see it. Just like I know love when I see — Whoa!”

Sam grunted as something tore through his right wing. He jerked forward, arms slipping from around you as you fell from his grip. “Y/N!” His voice was lost in the wind as you fell, faster and faster as the wind flew around you, ramming into and knocking the wind out of you. There was no way you could avoid frostbite in conditions like this. Looking down, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited to collide with the icy rocks beneath you.

But it never came.

Instead Sam dove, flying underneath and catching you bridal style. The wind was knocked out of both of you as the force of the collision knocked you two into the snow. Sam broke your fall. Groaning, he shifted underneath you, your stomach stretched across his and his wings buried in the fluffy abomination that was the cause of your chill. Yup, snow sucked. “That’s not quite how I thought we’d end up,” you murmured, arrogance gone as you rolled off of him.

He chuckled, running a hand over his face and tearing his goggles off. “You’ve got to think things through in life.” He blinked wearily and it was then you saw how the snow had caused a sort of burn around the goggles. It must have been from the reflection coming from the sun. Everything, but the portion of his eyes that had been protected was a few shades darker. “And love.”

You laughed, moving to sit up. That was fair. You deserved that. “Touche.” You turned to face him, helping dig his wings out of the snow before you were actually able to pull him up. “Think you can fly?”

Glancing at the wings, the look on his face showed he wasn’t entirely sure. Whether you two should risk it or call for backup, he didn’t know. If they took out one wing, it was safe to say that you were stranded. After all, he couldn’t carry the both of you on a barely functioning jet pack. But you didn’t want him to feel guilty. He did his best and it was your reckless idea that had gotten his suit damaged. And he went out of his way to… 

You shook your head, standing up. He followed suit and you looked around. He had managed to fly you out a couple miles before they clipped his wings. The building, similar to something like a castle, loomed through the mountains and it wouldn’t be too long before they sent scouts out looking for you. “Come on. We need to find shelter.”

“In this weather?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

“What about your date?”

You smiled. “I’ll reschedule.”

Walking through the snow wasn’t easy. You two had spent years in New York City, but the snow there wasn’t exactly thigh high and in the middle of a mountain. It was different, a terrain that neither of you had been entirely accustomed to. If it weren’t for Tony’s updating his jet pack, you were pretty sure it would have frozen in the temperature. Even beyond the grave that ridiculous man managed to make a difference. He was the reason you and Sam weren’t prisoners. Yet.

“Hey, we’ll get out of here,” he told you, as if hearing your thoughts.

“I know. Just a matter of actually getting help here in time.”

He followed a couple steps behind, knowing better than to argue with the concerns roaming around in your head. It was something you were positive Clint had warned him about. Sam was too much of an infuriating chatterbox to just let you deal. Your concerns were what led to solutions. You thought of possible outcomes, the good and the bad, and eventually it led to a plan that had little margin for error. All you had to do was think, allow yourself to worry and be concerned, and the plan would lay itself out for you.

After a couple hours of roaming the mountainside, you finally found a cave. Some place to rest and hopefully send out a signal for the agent flying your ride to come find you. Sam seemed to have the same idea because he ran ahead, clicking the straps of his jetpack as the two of you stepped into the damp dwelling. It was dark, a stark contrast to the overwhelming white behind you two, but neither of you complained. It allowed your eyes to rest, readjust and simple take a much needed break. Snow was too blinding, too overwhelming. Slipping the heavy contraption off his back, he  set it against the wall while you shook the snow out of your hair and off your arms. Some of it had taken the time to ice over and the same went for Sam. Time had to be taken to warm both of you up or you wouldn’t last the night.

Kicking the excess snow off your shoes and knocking them against the rocky wall, you let out a small huff. You needed food, water, and a fire. This was supposed to be an in and out mission. Not something that required such necessities. Looking at the opening of the cavern, your haven of the night, you wondered how the both of you could warm up without a fire. You didn’t need the smoke.

“I’d like to point out that we’ve come a good long way here,” he told you, cutting through the wind and your thoughts. He was right. You two barely knew each other and yet here you had infiltrated the enemy with ease, not fully aware of each other’s weaknesses and strengths, survived the possibility of death, and had managed to find somewhere to at least rest for the time being.

You chuckled, telling him, “And you’re…wow, you’re really strong. It surprised me that you caught me both times.”

Feigning surprise, he clutched his chest. “And see? You’re nice.” When you rolled your eyes, he smiled. Same old Wilson. No, you caught yourself, corrected yourself, same old Sam. “That jump was really brave,” he added, surprising you. He was actually complimenting your suicidal dive? 

Joking, you told him, “Your catch was quite a save.”

“Oh, I know.” Again, he was as cocky as you. Silence fell as you two stood back to back, trying to figure out your next step. He shook the snow off his boots and shoulders, wanting to keep talking. It wasn’t an argument and it wasn’t a mission. It was something else and it felt easy. “You’ve got some guts.”

You looked surprised. Another compliment? Did the snow get to his head? Did he have a concussion or something? “Thanks. You’ve got some…” What could she tell him? Lamely, she finally muttered, “Brains.”

He laughed, nodding because he understood it was weird for you. It was just as weird for him. No one liked learning about their partner on the go. “Come on, we’re soaked. Get out of the jacket before you freeze to death.” You didn’t really get to argue because he was already following his own instructions. As he did, he took long, slow strides to the back of the cave. The farther from the wind, the warmer it got. It was never actually anything other than cold, but it was better than the chilling wind that kissed the entrance of the cave over and over again.

So, you decided he might have a good idea this time around. Taking off the jacket, you unzipped one of the many pockets it had and pulled out a small blanket. Now that it wasn’t in a confined space, the nanotech within the fabric allowed the creation to expand. It wasn’t thick, but it was something dry and usable. He was already sitting at the very back, leaning against the wall. You crouched next to him and he instinctively raised a hand, wrapping it around your shoulders as you laid the material over four shivering legs. Nothing about this screamed sexual or romantic, but rather a need to rely on each other’s body warmth. You curled into his side, resting your head on his chest, just above his heartbeat while he absentmindedly traced your arm. Goosebumps followed in his wake, but you weren’t cold. It was actually relaxing instead. 

“With miles and miles to go,” he murmured, resting his chin on the top of your head. You could hear it in his voice, he was tired. He was trying to find the words before sleep took over. “I guess it’s nice to know —“

You seemed to read his mind, voicing with him, “That I can trust you.”

He chuckled, liking that you understood him so well. “Though the question still remains.” Oh, here it comes. Another insult cooked up in that wild imagination of his. “What do you know about love?” You laughed, shaking your head as he shifted so that his cheek was resting on your head. It was more comfortable for both of you. Like your elbow, his chin was rather bony. “Just be careful on that date.”

You snorted, crossing your legs over his as your eyes slowly closed. “Have a little faith, hm?” Voice soft, barely above a murmur, “At least we know one thing.”

He nudged you with the arm that seemed to provide a blanket for your shoulders. “What’s that?” Whether he was actually able to listen or not, you didn’t know. He sounded more asleep than awake, but interest still peaked his voice. 

“This trip was interesting.”

Silence. No chuckle, no nudge, and you found yourself worried. That is, until you heard the snore that rumbled through his chest and out his nose. Biting your lip to stifle a laugh, you shook your head. It was definitely interesting indeed. Leaning back, you allowed your aching limbs to relax against him. Both of you needed to sleep and the confines of the cave proved safe enough. When you woke again, then you’d focus on help, but for know? Just one thought drifted through your mind as sleep tugged at your subconscious. 

What do you really know about love?

[zombiejette]

RadioDust HCs:

ok kids. bc i have no chill yet no desire to clean these ramblings up into an actual fic, have some of my extremely self-indulgent hcs for this ship. this is gonna get long-winded and wild, so strap tf in.

General HCs:

Alastor is gray or demisexual. Meaning he is generally sex-repulsed until he becomes incredibly close to someone. This is pretty much my standard HC across the board for him, especially when I’m trying to ship him with Angel cuz lord knows there needs to be a middle ground between their sexual natures somewhere lol

Even after falling for someone, he still is fairly indifferent to sex, but he does enjoy eliciting reactions, especially from someone he knows well. And in the rare event that he cares for another, he does genuinely want to bring them pleasure. Therefore he sees sex more as an extension of this and is willing to participate to make his partner happy/is interested in creating their reactions

Likes to know he’s the only one to rile them up as well, part of his power kink

Alastor also has no idea what these identity terms mean either: is a clueless murderous old man

Angel is a tad more Woke™, especially after being in Hell for a while

Having younger generations of demon friends helps with this: Cherri or Vaggie being the ones to usually clue him in to more modern concepts

Drives Angel up a gd wall when he attempts to explain a modern invention/slang/pop culture reference to Alastor, who only digs his heels in with Not Understanding it just to piss him off more

Alastor not only does understand, but saves this fact for the times when he really wants to impress/screw with Angel, or when the knowledge comes in handy

He’ll never forget the look on Angel’s face when he casually informed him that the deer selfie filter is actually super offensive to him and would you please be a ‘deer’ and cease using it on insta thank you now there’s a love

Angel is now super paranoid that Alastor will see all his social media interactions somehow, despite him NOT having any accounts anywhere

Does not stop him from posting nsfw selfies and tagging them with #alastor/radiodemon in the least

Anemia HCs:

ok so i read somewhere that angel was anemic on the hazbin wiki info, or something?? i don’t know if that was real or not but uh... i took it and ran with it, so now it’s my hc, and this whooooole thing turned itself into a multi-part mini fic, which is all under the cut. if you’re dying of radiodust thirst like me, pls enjoy this mess.

Part One:

Angel is indeed anemic, and the first time Alastor finds out is when he literally passes out into his arms like a bad ‘Gone with the Wind’ parody

At first Alastor was disgusted, thinking this was yet another stupid ploy to hit on him... until he realized Angel wasn’t speaking anymore

Something that never happens

He wasn’t expecting to care, let alone lift the spider the rest of the way into his arms, carrying him to Charlie so she can figure this out

One second, Angel was fainting on him, the next, Alastor found himself sitting by his bed, placing a cool cloth over his brow and waiting for Charlie to get back with supplies

Almost like something out of those novels Mother used to think she had so cleverly hidden away

Hmm

Somehow, that thought alone was not enough to make him leave, so there he dutifully remained

Even as Angel woke up, groggy, yet giving him maybe the smallest, softest smile he’d ever seen the demon make

”Al... you stayed...”

Well that was certainly something. The way it made his pulse race quicker and palms sweat under his gloves was definitely new. And apparently enough to keep him sticking around through Charlie’s fussing and prodding and Angel’s consequent refusal of said mothering

Until Alastor remembered that anemic means lack of iron

iron like from meat

meat like from animals

and animal meat was his specialty!

Without another word, he left for the kitchen, only to return with a giant steak dinner (clearly bullied out of the staff in a rush), complete with mashed potatoes and vegetables and a large glass of orange juice

Literally everything Angel never eats

He refused to leave until it was all eaten, sitting back in his chair and bribing Angel with the offer to tell him a story as he finished it

And so he does, weaving a vivid tale just like back in his radio star days, complete with voices and hand gestures

Never before had Angel and Charlie ever seen Alastor quite this engaged in something that wasn’t murder or chaos; instead spinning a yarn about a boy and his magical pig who helps him to find his lost twin sister

Angel is quite enraptured, naturally, having to be prompted to keep eating a couple times, and Charlie hangs back by the doorway, absolutely beside herself internally at what’s unfolding before her

Vaggie would no doubt try to convince her otherwise later, and she may just be a princess of hell, but she knows love when she sees it dammit!

Eventually, she can sense the story’s end coming near, and as much as she wants to hear it, she wants their story to begin more, so she quietly slips away and leaves them alone

The tale indeed ends and Angel swallows the last of the drink, both quiet a moment, looking at each other

“…. Where’d ya hear that one Al?”

“Hear it?”

“Ya know, where’d you get it from? Some old fairy tale book? A movie? It’s real good and I know Molly would love that it’s basically just like us, so if ya tell me where to find it I can-“

“Nowhere. I made it up.”

“You made that up!!? Just now!?”

a small chuckle “Yes, that is what storytellers do…”

“… For me?”

Alastor pauses at that, regarding him again

“I suppose… Yes, yes that one was just for you. About you, really… with some… embellishments,” he twirls a hand nonchalantly in the air before returning it to the other in his lap “Either way I’ve never told it to anyone before, if that’s what you’re after.”

And there’s that smile again, the one that Angel never wore before today, and the one that Alastor would find himself chasing every day since, whether he realizes it or not

Part Two:

The only downside to this is now Alastor will not leave Angel alone about his iron intake

Constantly asking him if he’s had anything substantial today, pushing juices and vitamins and most of all meat onto him, sometimes holding him hostage to watch him eat it

Angel would be flattered if it didn’t interfere with his drug and alcohol habit so much

“Al, geez let up wouldya!? I’m already in Hell, why do I gotta be HELLthy too huh??” a smirk accompanied that, despite himself

the radio demon sighs “As much as I appreciate a well-timed pun, I must insist” he taps where Angel’s nose would be on a normal face “I’m already well aware that you’ll never be ‘healthy’, but I’d take conscious as a consolation prize.”

“Really?? YOU prefer me conscious??”

“Don’t flatter yourself-” he scoffed faintly “I have a hotel to endorse, and you are it’s prized resident, my opinions on the matter non-withstanding. I can’t very well have the famed Angel Dust dropping like a fly at a moment’s notice over such a small thing as malnutrition. What kind of operation would this look like if we couldn’t at least keep on top of something as simple as anemia, hmm?”

For once, Angel had nothing to return fire with, since the last time someone gave him such a convincing speech about his well-being was his sister right before his death, and he really didn’t feel like putting anyone through that agony again

Not even Alastor

After that, Angel takes whatever food Al gives him in annoyed silence, but he still takes it

Though it’s getting harder and harder to remain annoyed when what Alastor gives him starts increasing in quality

At first it’s swiped energy bars or simply juice, but then progresses to sandwiches and fruit and deviled eggs and little spinach quiches and tortes and assortments of cheeses that can’t be easy to procure down here, even with Alastor’s influence

If you cornered him, Angel would never admit it, but he actually forgot how much he missed real food after being inebriated constantly, and Al’s little treats become the new highlight of his day

He’ll even stop using some of the harder drugs so he can better taste them

Charlie would never tell them for fear of the whole thing stopping on an embarrassed dime, but she’s so so proud of them both for this little secret transaction

Angel does start looking and acting better as a result, even though he still abuses alcohol and softer drugs and def keeps his sexual nature intact

But he’s less irritable and prone to lashing out, and his coloring is brighter and his hair sleeker

He also isn’t as tired as often and hasn’t fainted at all since the first time, just feeling overall stronger and more lucid

Which he can’t really complain about even though he wants to

Part Three:

The hotel even benefits from this, some small press circulating about Angel’s newfound constitution and attributing it to their work

In celebration, one night Alastor invites him to a proper dinner at one of Hell’s most famous fancy restaurants

One where the press could easily find them if they wanted

Angel knows this is just to show off his progress but doesn’t shy away from it- for once excited to eat out somewhere and not “eat out” if ya know what I mean

Besides, Alastor doesn’t seem that perturbed to be seen in public with him either, a rare development and not one to scoff at

They both dress up nicer than normal for it, making a big show as the hotel’s representatives, even walking in arm-in-arm

Angel is not immune to the certain type of looks they get as they arrive, and wonders if he should tell Al

Seeing the man with one of his more casual and less murderous smiles on as they take their seats convinces him not to

It would be a shame to get their outfits all bloody anyway

Especially since Angel decided to return to his drag look for the evening, complete with a new skintight velvet dress, feeling far fancier all dolled up than in any of his menswear

The glances Al gives him from time to time don’t hurt either, eyes noticeably lingering on his exaggerated chest fluff each time

Something Angel has no problem with, leaning forward and accentuating it more, resting his chin on a hand lightly to prop his figure up

Alastor orders for the both of them since he knows the place better, raving about their veal and venison dishes on the way over

Earlier in the year, this might have unnerved Angel more, knowing the demon’s penchant for savagery and carnage when it came to “hunting”, but now? He found it almost charming, that Al was so invested in the meat selection of Hell’s dining establishments that he even made his own ranking system for the best places to get each type of animal, who better prepared it according to cuisine, and how each cut measured up in quality

Angel took the liberty of perusing their liquor selection to create his own ranking system, just to be fair

Would be impolite to let Al do all the work on this date after all

….. wait…..

Date???

The fork clattering to the floor jarred Angel back to his senses, realizing his elbow had slipped abruptly from its perch at the very thought, almost in an allergic reaction to the word

Al only raised a controlled eyebrow at the flustered way Angel ducked down to retrieve it under the table skirt

Which is of course the very moment the paparazzi decided to start snapping their pictures

Alastor quickly spun around at the flashing lights, smiling dangerously at them and stopping some of the more cowardly photographers, but not quite enough

Angel, oblivious, continued rooting around for the fork, all the while inching closer and closer towards Alastor’s seat

“Angel!” Al hissed, finally reaching under and putting a hand on Angel’s hair to still him. Of course not making this look any better. “Sit up. Now.”

“Wait, but I almost got it Al-ahh!”

He was roughly pulled up by the back of his dress and sat up, hair mussed and face flushed incriminatingly, only making Alastor groan in defeat at some more camera snaps

It took half a second, but Angel suddenly understood, face blank in momentary shock

Alastor fully expected him to turn it into another lewd joke, brush it off and dig the hole deeper, most certainly at the expense of his own comfort

He quickly steeled himself for the impending barrage of innuendos and unwanted touching

What he wasn’t prepared for was Angel to suddenly leave the table, storming right up to the cameramen with the angriest look he’d ever seen on the spider’s face

“Ey ya parasites!! Let me see those!” he holds a couple of impatient hands out for their cameras, still fuming

Some actually comply out of complete shock, not at all used to Angel Dust getting mad about being photographed ever, especially over anything sexual

Angel proceeds to delete the photos off the first camera… then gets more and more frustrated when the pictures just wouldn’t stop coming. After a while, he just smashes the camera on the ground in a huff

“Fuck this it’ll take too long!” he points to the remaining paparazzi with intact cameras, still shocked and clutching them “Y’all are gonna delete every SINGLE photo you took of that little misunderstanding just now, alright?? Or else I’m gonna keep smashing cameras! Got it??”

They all nod and start deleting hurriedly

“And if ANY a ya think about gettin’ wise and leaking some anyway… well… let’s just say I had a much more deadly occupation than porn star when I was alive…” his face darkens at that, putting on his best godfathers voice to hit it home “And I ain’t afraid a comin’ out of retirement temporarily… Capisce?”

They capisce

He returns to the table with a resigned sigh and combs through his wig to tame it again, taking out a compact to fix his face

Completely ignoring the stunned absence of a smile on Alastor’s

Eventually Angel dares to glance at it and gives him an involuntary cringe

“Ah... Sorry Al…” he starts slowly, stowing the compact away again in his bosom and looking down chagrined “I know I went and made a scene in your favorite place and… and yer probably real mad and all an’… oh damn, Charlie’s gonna kill me if you don’t firs-“

“-Thank you.”

“W.. wait what??”

“Thank you…” Alastor repeated, if only to assure himself he was really saying it “I… it was… I never expected you to get mad…”

“Al?”

“I thought you’d let them… run with it” he waves a hand, explaining himself, somewhat awkwardly “Especially since it… it would help you. Your reputation. To be caught with the radio demon like… like that.”

The way his voice became so small on the last two words worried Angel much more than he’ll ever admit. The way you could hear the mortification behind his smile. He always knew Al was adverse to the act but never had he seen him actually terrified by it. Paralyzed by the stark realization of how close he came to becoming its subject… even if only as a rumor

It simply emboldened Angel’s resolve

the spider scoffed lightly “Well yeah… maybe if that’s what we had been doin’… or if you were into that stuff at all…”

“What?”

“I mean we weren’t even actually tryin’! I was just lookin’ fer a dumb fork for cryin’ out loud-!“

“No… no what about… me being into it?”

a pause, and then a one-shouldered shrug “Well it’s not the same thing as a payin customer is it?… Like you don’ even LIKE sex and stuff and… it’s different when it’s just us flirtin’ and bullshittin’ around at the hotel… I know you hate that too but at least there no one ain’t tryin’ ya capitalize on yer pain. Word never gets out. No one knows just how much I get under yer skin, so it’s almost like it never happened. But these pictures…” he waved both of his right hands in unison, motioning for emphasis “They’re permanent.. and they’d only be helpin’ my reputation while hurtin’ yours…”

Alastor just continues to stare

“A-and the hotel’s… of course…”

Finally a smile returns to his face, but with no hint of anything except appreciation behind it

“Of course…”

Part Four:

The rest of dinner went smoothly

Al had indeed picked well, and the dishes were some of the best Angel had ever tasted, other than his Momma’s cooking of course

When Al made a small chuckle at even that joke, Angel knew he must’ve done something right to land this far in the radio demon’s good graces

Though it could very well be the booze’s doing

Angel had insisted on ordering their drinks to compensate for the fiasco earlier, and had created specialty cocktails for each of them, based on what they ate

He was relieved when Alastor gave a small hum of approval mid-sip, downing a generous amount with an easy smile

And then finishing off three more with dinner

Both were quite full and loose by the time they finished, even getting a small tray of beignets for desert

They found they hadn’t even argued once, save for small asides and joking prods. But really arguing? Hadn’t even crossed their minds. Instead they bonded over jazz artists they both liked, reminisced about the 30′s while filling each other in on the decades they missed, talked a bit about their hometowns, and threw some mutual shade about residents of the hotel they couldn’t stand

Turns out they had quite a lot in common…

They paid on the hotel’s tab and finally headed out to the limo, only swaying slightly and linking arms again to subtly stabilize each other

This time the paparazzi was nowhere in sight, probably long scared off by now

Which is good since Alastor had suddenly removed his arm from Angel’s to pull him in around the waist, keeping the demon from tripping over a nearby curb by pressing him further into his side. Out of reflex, entirely.

After all, it’s not like he’d ever willingly choose to close their proximity. Just like he’d never willingly choose to notice the way Angel’s chest bounced softly against his, or how four hands grasping onto him felt oddly right, or how tempting the velvet hugging the curve of Angel’s lower back became under his fingertips

He’d only occasionally felt this way about accidental invasions of personal space before, and that fact did nothing to reassure him or his nerves

Nor did the pounding of his undead heart in his ears

Angel was also feeling the tension, but for a whole ‘nother reason

Drinks always made him more forward, and having a full belly for once numbed that urge into more of a simmering lust, cozy and comfortable and heavy

Getting tangled up in Alastor’s arms suddenly only made him want one thing

One thing he was telling himself desperately not to do

Which was real hard with Al’s face so so close to his, looking back at him with his own flush dusting along his cheeks and that smile still there, but slightly parted, waiting, hesitant of what it wanted to become but open to suggestions

Suggestions that Angel had plenty of

“You… you were about to trip… my dear…” Alastor finally explained in a hush, dipping a finger into the still water between them and rippling it quietly, grip on him still firm

“…. Ah…” slowly Angel righted himself, not moving away from him, but leaning on him less “That…. that sounds like me…” he offered a lopsided grin at his own joke, daring to look Alastor in the eyes again

Looking for what exactly, he wasn’t sure

And guessed he would never find out, seeing the moment vanish underfoot with the crunch of the limo’s tires, pulling up beside them

Alastor still offered him his hand though, helping guide Angel inside first, then sliding in after

Sitting at least one person apart, the drive begins in unsteady silence, neither exactly looking away but definitely not trying to confront anything either

That is until Alastor starts to fidget with his bow tie, inexplicably feeling very warm

Deciding to simply undo it entirely and redo it looser, he starts it out like usual, but his fingers can’t seem to find their footing and keeps losing track of the last few steps

On the third try, Angel sighs dramatically beside him

“Honestly Al…”

And just like that, the spider is making use of his extra arms and tugging the whole mess loose again, faces mere inches apart as he concentrates and deftly reties it in a perfect bow, which gently hugs the base of Al’s throat as his adam’s apple bobs with a nervous kind of grace

It ends far too quickly and now there is nothing left to keep them in this close… nothing Alastor can invent to explain away how Angel’s fingers linger on the edges of the fabric, or how he wants to undo more of his clothing just for those hands to fix him up again

So he does the only logical thing he can think of

The kiss hits Angel with a sort of intensity he wasn’t expecting, feeling himself pulled in by two gloved hands on his bare shoulders, touch light but not unsure, desperate but without any urgency, simply grounding them together in this moment

Their lips moved against each other’s slowly, mounting in a gentle exploration with Angel deferring to Alastor’s lead, his lower set of hands lightly resting along Al’s hips, asking permission at first until a soft moan granted him it

Eyes fluttering closed, the kiss deepened until it became a series of many, some opened-mouthed, tongues hinting at entering but never actually doing so, and all of them amidst small noises and panting breaths, desire simmering just under the surface of it all

Angel had never kissed like this… never thought to kiss like this… the boiling heat of lust kept at bay by a promise to just make out, to just keep it at another’s pace. All the while flushing his body with a white hot pulsing want that could only wait for someone else to grant it release?? Oh he could die all over again from this torture and would only beg for more. Never getting it being it’s own bittersweet reward

Alastor grappling meanwhile with why he suddenly wanted so very much as well, why, as he clung to Angel’s soft fur-lined skin and let their mouths dance relentlessly, he never once wanted to pull away. Never wanted to run and hide in the solace and safety of the self, was all too happy to let Angel’s hands cup and hold his hips and reward him with moaning sounds he rarely ever makes

His head was swimming in it, and he was oddly eager to let himself drown

Eventually they parted, breathless and slow but mutual, eyes opening again and glossily gazing at the other, searching for silent signs of yes, no, more?, sorry?, good?

“A-Al… I..”

Fingertips graced the speaking lips to silence them again, a small shake of the head a confirmation of no apology needed. “… That was… I liked that…” He offered, smiling small and gentle for once, an acknowledgement of how very rare this had really been. How nothing about this was usual, but not necessarily unwanted

Angel was now convinced he’d died twice

“You… yeah?” he smiled back, just as hopeful

Another nod, Alastor chewing words behind his closed mouth, clearly processing something

“… I don’t… I don’t want you to get… too excited but…”

Angel surprised him with his patience

“… I have kissed before. I… actually more than that as well but...” he shakes his head to keep himself on track before he loses his nerve “It’s not often. And it’s definitely not for fun… not for just… anyone.”

Angel hopes to heaven his smile isn’t too excited

a small exhale before continuing “What I’m trying to say is…. I can’t guarantee anything. I cant... predict how I’ll feel about more… or about everything. But I can tell you that I liked this. And… I’d like to do this sometimes… with you. If you don’t push me for more…”

Two hands held Alastor’s close to his chest, squeezing them once with an earnest smile

“I promise Al. I promise I won’t push… at least I’ll really really try. I know I’m shitty at self-restraint and I won’t lie, I’m fuckin’ pent up as shit right now…” his small chuckle was met with a slightly sarcastic eyebrow, feigning momentary annoyance “But… but I really liked that too. I ain’t never… I ain’t never felt this good after just makin’ out! I didn’t know I could…”

Alastor hums a bit in amusement, hands traveling from Angel’s grip to slide gently down the sides of the velvet dress he’s poured into “Well… seems tonight was a good one for a lot of firsts…” he watched Angel’s small shiver with some glee “Though I might just blame it all on this devilish dress…”

a breathless chuckle “Oh yeah, Al? You like it that much?”

“Yes…” no hesitation as he strokes small circles into the fabric with his thumbs, just over the start of Angel’s hipbones “I’ve always been partial to velvet…. and pretty creatures wearing it…”

Their second kiss lasted all the way home

[javocjovian]

The Road So Far...

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Sarasaurussex’s Masterlist

• Bingos • Bangs • Holiday Events • Other Works • Art

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Bingos:

2019

A Supernatural Menagerie A collection of short smutty Supernatural stories! Mostly for Kink and ABO Bingo, plus a few requests. | Chapter | Title - Ship , Kink/Tag/Prompt | ʟɪɴᴋs | Ch 1 | Dress for Success - Destiel, Clothing Sharing | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 2 | Work, Work, Work - Sabriel, Rimming  | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 3 | Bondage Therapy - Wincest, Bondage | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 4 | Fully Loaded - Sabriel, Breeding Kink (non-ABO) | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 5 | Two Feet Under - Sastiel, Footfetish/Breathplay | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 6 | Blood and Flesh, Mind and Soul - Mooseley (Sam x Crowley), Coming Untouched | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 7 | Sensory Overload - Sastiel, Scent Kink | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 8 | How To Make Sammy Sleep - Wincest, Domestic Kink | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 9 | Two Veils To Hide My Face - Wincest, Scent Marking (ABO) | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 10 | Wet Dreams May Cum - Debriel, Sleeping/First Times | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 11 | Getting To Know You - Sketch (Sam x Ketch), Friends to Lovers/Face Fucking | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 12 | An Angel and Demon In Us All - Meg!Sam x Castiel | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 13 | Exorcising Those Demons - Balthazar x Rowena, Fake Relationships | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 14 | Heaven and Hell - Megstiel, Squirting | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 15 | The Trap - Destiel, sub!Dean/Sex Pollen | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 16 | Ride ‘Em Cowboy - Destiel, Sexuality Crisis | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 17 | Ramble On - Destiel, Oral | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 18 | How To Train Your Demon - Dain (Dean x Cain), Caning | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀ��3 | Ch 19 | Natural Born Leader - Calthazar, Societal Role Reversal (ABO) | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 20 | Whiskey and Spice - Dean x Ketch, Tattoos/Accidental Scent Bond (ABO) | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 21 | You’re Mine - Wincest (Demon!Dean x Boyking!Sam), Teasing | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 22 | Blueberry Pie - Wincest, Restraints (ABO) | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 23 | Down Boy - Wincest, Petplay | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 24  | It’s A Farcical Life - Sabriel, Sam Wesson | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 25 | Table Manners - Wincest, Voyeurism (ABO) | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 26 | Saving Grace - Castiel/Michael/Lucifer | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 27 | First Blood - Demon!Dean x Boyking!Sam, Bloodplay (Freespace) | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 | Ch 28 | BONUS | Dress For Success with Art by Purgatory-Jar! | ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ | ᴀᴏ3 |

A Close Shave | tumblr | AO3 | Square: Orgasm Denial Ship: Michael!Dean x Sam, implied Wincest Rating: E Word Count: 5,803 Tags: Orgasm Denial, Forced Orgasm, Aphrodisiacs, Multiple Orgasms, Edging, Teasing, Denial, Oral, Anal, Bondage Summary: Michael!Dean returns to his prisoner and has some fun. Part I not necessary.

Wherever I May Roam | tumblr | AO3 | Square: Roleplay Ship: Destiel, Cockles, Dean Winchester x Misha Collins Rating: E Word Count: 11,432 Tags: Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Heartbreak, Idiots to Lovers, Relationships, Emotional Sex, Realism, Condoms and Lube, Caught in the Act, Jensen & Misha & Dean & Castiel, Jared & Sam, Rejection, Arguments, First Time sex, Happy Ending, Fluff Summary: Sam and Dean get sent to another TV Land that’s slightly different than the last. In this version, Jensen and Misha are dating. Can Dean keep it together long enough to be rescued and avoid ruining his precariously platonic relationship with Castiel? (cue Sam laughing in the background)

Show Me Your Moves - sequel in progress | tumblr | AO3 | Square Filled: Neighbors Ship: Destiel (18yo!Dean x hunter!Castiel) Rating: E Word Count: 12,436 Tags: Top Cas/Bottom Dean, technically legal, age gap, enthusiastic consent, porn with plot, hand jobs, blowjobs, rimming, anal, fun positions, coming too early, multiple orgasms, cum licking, mentions of masturbation, lots of lube usage, horny teen Dean, mentions of abusive John, angst, apologies, Castiel is bad at talking, protective lil Sam, after-care, comfort, fluff Summary: While on a hunt, Castiel the slightly-OCD hunter keeps running into a cocky, sarcastic, drop-dead gorgeous eighteen-year-old named Dean Winchester. Turns out the kid is pretty good at punching ghouls, eating all of Castiel’s food, and getting dirty ;D Also appearing:sassy teen Sam (who volunteers at an animal shelter), Ellen and Jo, and a bunch of dogs. Mentions of John, Mary, Bobby, and Castiel’s angel family. 

| SPN Kink Bingo Masterlist (ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ) | SPN ABO Bingo Masterlist (ɪɴ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴇss) |

Bangs:

2019

Catch the Wind - Wincest Big Bang 2019 | tumblr | AO3 | WBB post | Ship: Teencest, Wincest, Wincestiel (at the end) Rating: E Word Count: 21,521 Tags: Flashbacks, Timetravel, Action, Angst,  Hurt/Comort, John Winchester, OC villain, Choices, the Butterfly effect, Changing the past, Wound Care, Making out, Don’t wake dad, Guilt, Healing Sex, Threesome Warnings: Teenaged Wincest (Sam16, Dean20), canon level gore/violence, emotional parental abuse Summary:  When a rogue angel Castiel once spared begins murdering angels on the West Coast, Sam and Dean help Castiel hunt the angel down once and for all. Along the way they find themselves in a place, they stayed in as teenagers. It brings back memories of Sam’s 16th birthday when he was being hunted by a delusional friend of John’s who was determined to stop the next King of Hell. Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean, or Castiel, the past and present are inexplicably intertwined, and sparing the angel in the past has unfathomable consequences for Sam and Dean’s future. Fate, chance, and redemption must all be confronted for the trio to move on.

Lost and Found - Supernatural Trope Celebration 2019 | tumblr | AO3 | STC post | Ship: Sastiel Rating: M Word Count: 12522 Tropes: Amnesia/Memory Loss, Reverse Sex Pollen, Deathbed Confessions Warnings: Mental Heath Issues, Mention of Suicide, AKF Summary: When Sam starts acting strange, Dean’s faith in his brother comes undone, and after a bad fight causes Sam to leave the bunker for good it seems impossible they’ll ever be able to reconcile. But Castiel suspects something more is going on. He finds Sam, only to discover his worst fear: Sam is not himself, and it might be too late to save him. Castiel enlists Rowena to help solve the mystery of Sam’s condition, cure him, and reunite the Winchesters.

Red and Gold - SPN Canon Big Bang 2019 | tumblr | AO3 | CBB post | Ship: Sabriel , Crowbriel (GabrielxCrowley), Crowsabriel (SamxGabrielxCrowley), background Destiel Rating: E Wordcount: 25,906 Warnings: Dub-con Summary: Back from the dead and acting strange, Gabriel finds himself in debt to Crowley. In order to free himself he must fulfill a contract by spying on the Winchesters, who are trying to shut the Gates of Hell. But after Sam catches Gabriel spying on him in the shower (naturally), the contract is voided and Gabriel finds himself enslaved to Crowley as payment. Sam figures out Gabriel’s deal with the devil and tries to help, but ends up caught up in it himself. Eventually, Sam and Crowley discover the cause of Gabriel’s strange behavior, and the unlikely trio of heroes and villains come together to save their favorite feathered frenemy from an even greater threat.

Black Mountain Side - Team Free Will Big Bang 2019 | tumblr | AO3 | TFW post | Ship: Wincestiel, Wincest Rating: E Wordcount: 7,792 Summary: Castiel gets injured on a hunt, causing tension between himself and Dean. Sam is forced to play mediator, but even he can’t predict how the night unravels. Held up in a shack in the mountains, the trio discovers how far they’ll go for each other.

Holiday Events:

2019

Chill Me, Thrill Me: A Supernatural Halloween Story Supernatural Trope Celebration (Halloween Edition) | tumblr | AO3 | Rating: T Trope: For Halloween, I’m Going as Myself Tags: Halloween Party, Costumes, Mystery, Monsters, Hunting, minor Sam Winchester/OC, Making Out, Humor, Holidays Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester get invited to a party on Halloween night, but they have no idea what kind of tricks and treats are in store for them.

What Really Matters Galentine’s Day Fic for @mrswhozeewhatsis​ | tumblr | AO3 | Ship: Castiel x Dean x Reader Rating: E Tags: Grace Healing, BAMF Castiel, Vulnerable Dean, Protective Dean and Cas, Bunker sex, Threesome, Dean in the middle, Sub Dean, Top Castiel, Power-Bottom Reader, Humor, Fluff, Smut Summery: Dean blames himself when you get injured in a fight. Luckily, you and Castiel know just how to bring him around.

2018

A Very Supernatural Christmas Party | AO3 | Ship: Destiel, Sabriel, mild Crowlthazar Tags: Christmas Smut, Destiel Angst (with a Happy Ending), Humor, Pranks Rating: E Summery: Gabriel and Castiel need dates to Metaron’s annual Christmas party. 

Secret Santa Illustrated Fic | AO3 | Rating: G Summery: Crowley comes across a certain celebrity soul in Hell. Written for a fan.

Guess Who’s Coming to Thanksgiving Dinner | AO3 | Rating: G Summery: Sam, Dean, and the gang hit a roadblock on their way to Jody’s for Thanksgiving

Other Works:

Wet Dreams May Cum Debriel Creations Challenge @debrielcc​ | tumblr | AO3 | February Theme: First Times My Prompt: Sleep/Sleeping Ship: Debriel (Dean/Gabriel, Dean/Gabriel/Dream-Gabriel) Rating: E Tags: Somnophilia, masturbation, wet dreams, embarrassment, first time anal (Dean), hand jobs, prostate milking, wings, consensual, mild pain enjoyment, grace sex, grace bondage, induced sleep, bondage via induced sleep, soul fucking, dream control, dream sex, mind-reading, time-loop Summary: Dean has a wet dream about Gabriel, so Gabriel turns it into reality.

The Angel Who Would Be Human | AO3 | Ship: Gabrizar (Balthazar x Gabriel) Kinks: Shower Sex, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Sass Rating: E Summery: Balthazar becomes human for a week. Gabriel give shim a place to stay.

It’s Not Gay If You Don’t Hold Hands | AO3 | Ship: Mooseley, Destiel Kinks: So many. Crowley addicted to Sam’s blood, BDSM, Bondage, Shibari Rope, Cock Cages, Destiel Angst, Wing Kink Rating: E Summery: Set in an alternate universe following the conclusion of Season 9, Sam finds Crowley before he joins up with a newly awakened demon!Dean, and Castiel finds Dean before he can run off on his own.  Note: This is my most popular SPN Fic from a few years ago, it’s an unfinished RP

Supernatural x Marvel Mini Bang | AO3 | Rating: T Summery: Mobster AU Crossover featuring the Family Business (Supernatural), the Avengers Assembly (the Avengers/Spiderman), and the L.A. Guardians (Guardians of the Galaxy). Also, Deadpool shows up uninvited.

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Art:

Withheld - DeanCas Reverse Bang Art Withheld - DeanCas Reverse Bang Master Post

I’ll Always Be There - Wincest Reverse Art I’ll Always Be There - Wincest Reverse Master Post

Snowbound - Wincest Reverse Art Snowbound - Wincest Reverse Master Post

The Good, the Bad and the Fluffy - Wincest Reverse Art The Good, the Bad and the Fluffy - Wincest Reverse Master Post

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[dontcallmecarrie]

Hello! I hope your day is going swell. I know that you're probably very busy, but I want to see tony go all out Merchant Of Death from the beginning of this arc also. If its not going into TWiFFON and if you have the time, would you consider either doing a mini fic or even just an outline of how that would play out? Thank you!

This has been sitting in my askbox for a while, but…well, another test, another round of post-test stress-related jitters, and it’s been a while since I’ve done a shatterpoint, hasn’t it? Especially since things are getting serious in TWiFFON in a way that makes it tricky for me to get into the mindset necessary for writing it.

As an fyi, crackiness incoming, especially since this is my post-exam rambling [plus minor profanity of the ‘fuck my life’ variety]. Do not expect seriousness here, but some spoilers for what’s going to happen to Ross might show up. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

So. Tony Stark, the Merchant of Death. 

It’s not a title he’s proud of, is the thing. Especially now that he’s out of the game, and all; he’s about as proud of it as Bruce is about the Hulk, and for similar reasons, only Tony was 100% alert and sober when casually discussing weapons of mass destruction with generals during the Merchant of Death’s heyday. 

He’s not proud of it. But he’s also not above keeping it in reserve, if push comes to shove because his patience can only go so far. In TWiFFON, the first time the Merchant of Death officially made an appearance was after the JCTC breakout, because he finally hit his limit with Ross.

However, I’ve mentioned earlier that I was very tempted to bring him out earlier. Far, far earlier—as in, the first time Ross makes an appearance. 

So, in one. life, Tony noticed he was like a hair away from going Merchant of Death, when Ross was presenting the Accords, and dialed it back. 

Here, however…

Tony Stark hadn’t had any coffee that morning.

It may not have sounded like a major detail, but given it was who-the-fuck-knows in the morning, and he’d just finished all of his planned politicking for the week when Ross decided now was the best time to present the Accords to the team, it meant his patience was already flagging since before he saw the asshat’s stupidly self-satisfied smirk, and so when Ross decided to try and pull the same shit he’d done as a General, that was it.

Because he may not trust the Avengers, and odds were they’d like him even less after seeing the Merchant of Death, but right now he was out of fucks to give. He’d been trying to decide if he was more indifferent to the team than he disliked Ross, but this last round made his choice for him. 

Here, he goes full-on Merchant of Death when Ross presents his version of the Accords, and the team gets a front-row seat to seeing what happens when Tony gets serious.

He pulls absolutely no punches whatsoever, doesn’t break eye contact with Ross when he pulls out his phone and calls his legal team right there and then. No details, but enough to prove he’s not messing around, and then hangs up with a vicious smile that basically has Ross running because in the span that brief, one-sided conversation everyone in the room heard, they’ve realized just what it meant to piss off Tony Stark.

Specifically, why it was a bad idea, and how obvious it was that Ross hadn’t thought this through—because, in the span of a few minutes, he now has a multinational corporation gunning for him, with some of the best legal teams on the planet. 

Ross pretends he doesn’t flee, pretends he’s not on the defensive and trying to figure out how to take on the Merchant of Death. [He fails miserably.] The minute he’s out he door, Tony’s expression doesn’t change when he turns to the team, and with that same smile, says, “He won’t be a problem soon, taking him down shouldn’t take too long.”

Then he visibly warms up and approaches Rhodey to go in for a hug, teases Vision for forgetting the other Widow’s Bite, and leaves soon afterwards, complaining about coffee—and leaving the team to reassess everything they knew about Tony Stark, because what the hell.

Things are only downhill from there, really.

Within the next week, headlines are being made, as the encryption of SHIELD’s files on anything related to Ross ‘mysteriously’ get cracked by an ‘anonymous hacker’, and go viral. The timing could not have been worse, as world’s getting wind of what the UN’s talking about possible Accords. Specifically, someone manages to get his version of the Accords online. It may not sound that bad, but this is Ross’ version of the Accords, aka the US’ official version—and it does not look good, especially when compared to the one being pushed for by a record-breakingly large international coalition. 

All in all, Ross is not making his country look good, and combined with the incredibly-intimidating-and-still-growing lawsuit Stark Industries is filing against him? Well, President Ellis isn’t a fool—he drops him like a hot potato, to the applause of basically the entire world.

In the back, the team’s seeing all this go down, and quietly going “what the hell”, because they’ve never seen Tony this way, have only seen him messing around or in mission mode before. This is their first encounter with the Merchant of Death going all-out against an enemy, and in that moment, they all quietly decide they do not want to get on his bad side. Ever. 

Also, they’re getting slightly less Lex Luthor vibes from him, what with being distracted by all the media’s attention about the Accords, and, since Ross’ visit to the team was made public what with the clusterfuck surrounding his version of the Accords, soon they get inundated with legal counsel to actually explain how the Accords’ll work.

[and thus averting the bulk of Civil War]

Talk about the clauses and how it’s an international thing, about how if they try to barge into other countries to fuck shit up [the way Ross did Brazil, the way they did Johannesburg and Lagos] they’ll be persona non grata too, and basically drilling it into the team’s head about how the Accords actually work. Ross’ situation is quickly turning into a cautionary tale, now, because the lawsuit’s a monster and there’s rumors several countries’re thinking of joining in. 

The more time goes on, the uglier it gets, too, especially because…

Tony is not a happy camper, and he hates everything, how the fuck is this his life. Because this is the latest storm in a series of them, just the last round of paperwork he’s had to deal with, and the fact that he had to bring out the Merchant of Death to get shit done is actually not a good thing in his book [again, he’s not proud of it].

The only silver lining is that there’s a finishing line to this mess, and that he can vent his frustration via the legal battle going on.  And even that’s mired in a snarl of issues he doesn’t want to think about, because the longer this goes on, the more the world’s seeing the Merchant of Death and thinking he’s a responsible adult who knows what he’s doing when really he just wants some coffee and maybe a nap, and that leads to…weird consequences.

Specifically, there’s quite a few people looking at him, now. Even more specifically, some of those people are looking at him working with his company, coordinating with Pepper and Legal and PR and the Council and various other countries, and the newly-vacant position for Secretary of State, and going “hey, there’s an idea”. 

[I did mention this was crack, right? Yep.]

So, no. Tony is not a happy camper at the moment. At. all. Especially since the press is now in on it too, and wasn’t that an embarrassing headline? And it comes up again and again, in interviews and articles and Thor knew what else—”Tony Stark for Secretary of State?”

��yeah, that’s a no. Hells no, haven’t these people ever heard of conflicts of interest?! 

Made even worse, since it turns out the speculation wasn’t actually bs, and Tony hadn’t even finished his coffee when the goddamn President of the United States of America called him to ask about it, how the fuck was this his life.

Suffice it is to say, Tony is so, so tired by the time the lawsuit’s over. 

On the plus side, at least shit got done? Ross’ career is now dust, the Avengers are now no longer his headache, they’re some committee’s problem now. Danvers, the head of said committee, looks like she has a good head on her shoulders, and Tony wishes her luck. [All the luck.]

Even better, now that people’re taking him seriously, he can finally work on a global planetary protection program without getting laughed out of the room [looking at you, Avengers], or having to resort to do it all on his own.

[that being said, this is still going to happen in TWiFFON, albeit for different reasons]

Thanos arrives to an Earth that is ready for war, with the Merchant of Death as its first line of defense.

Things that didn’t really come up but happened in the background:  

—Zemo tried to frame Bucky, but his plan was contingent on a time crunch provided by Ross, which didn’t happen. The UN didn’t get bombed, since the scandal surrounding the Accords made for more interest in it, and tighter security. 

—That being said, Tony still finds out about his parents. Somehow. Probably thanks to either Steve or Natasha being the ones to break the news to him, because now that they’ve seen how he is with enemies they’d much rather keep him as an ally. 

—Irony is, for all that Tony’s not proud of the Merchant of Death, it’s also just about the only way the rest of the team’ll respect him; Tony playing nice just got him dismissed as a guy who doesn’t take things seriously, but the Merchant kicking ass and taking no prisoners? Another thing entirely. 

Basically, the main difference here from TWiFFON is that canon gets derailed even earlier, and the team is actually on the table after the Civil War arc ends, instead of in prison or what-have-you.

[r0guewrites]

A Special Performance

So here it is, the first of my 3 christmas themed fics. This one was the one that I have spent the longest writing as it is my third attempt actually writing it as the other two ideas fell on their head and were either gonna take ages to finish, or just weren’t gonna be good.

This one is also my fic for @lovelivesecretsanta2017 and is a gift for @mini-draws so I hope you like it! I am sorry it was late but I was really busy up till today and had no time to actually sit down and write.

Big thank you to @youriko-is-my-jam for checking it for me and @mega_honk on twitter for giving me the initial idea that turned into this. 

I will stop  rambling now so you can actually read it.

Summary: Riko is spending some time in the music room practising her piano over winter break when she receives an unexpected visitor.

Riko’s hands come to a stop, causing the melody that had just been filling the room to cease. The school was perfect at this time of year, the entire building was empty as everyone was on break for winter and it allows her to have perfect silence for practicing the piano in.

She takes a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze of the open window behind her against her back. She lets her eyes fall closed and just listens to the distant noises of birds chirping and leaves blowing in the wind. As she lets her eyes reopen, Riko places her hands back on the keys, readying herself for another song.

Before she can start playing, however, a noise draws her attention to the doorway as footsteps begin to echo in the hall outside. A familiar head of dark blue hair, adorned with its usual bun, appears in the doorframe soon after.

“Y-Yocchan? What are you doing here?” Riko’s eyes are wide open as she stares at the doorway. “I didn’t think anyone else had permission to be here during winter break.”

“Don’t doubt the skills of a fallen angel, nothing can keep them from their little demon for long.” Yoshiko chuckles in her usual manner before her face shifts to a much more nervous look. Her cheeks get tinted red and her only visible hand starts fiddling with the hem of her top. “I um… I also…” She stares at the wall for a moment before running over to Riko and holding out a small box. “M-Merry Christmas… Lili…”

“Y-Yocchan you didn’t have to…” Riko reaches out and takes the box. She looks it over for a few seconds before lifting the lid off to reveal a flower made of pink gemstones as the petals and a clear diamond in the center. Attached to the flower was a long metallic chain. “W-Wow… this… this must’ve cost a lot…”

“Th-The flower is meant to be a Lily… and I chose the pink one as that is your color.” Yoshiko’s blush grows as she sees Riko take the neckless out and wrap it around her neck.

“It is beautiful Yocchan!” Riko continues to fumble with fastening the neckless behind her neck, her eyes fixed to the gem resting on her chest as she does. “You don’t think you could help do you?” Her face turns to look at the girl standing next to her.

Yoshiko nods and steps behind Riko, taking the chain from her and attaches the two ends together, taking a step back to give the girl some space as she finishes.

Riko picks the flower up to admire it, holding it so the evening light behind her makes the gems sparkle. “It is beautiful Yocchan…”

“W-Well a fallen angel can only provide her l-little demons with the best gifts.” Yoshiko’s face is a mixture of happiness and embarrassment as she says this.

“I really wish I had something for you in return now…” Riko lets the flower fall back against her chest and her gaze falls to the keys in front of her. “It isn’t much… but I could play a song for you…”

“That is an acceptable gift from a little demon.” Yoshiko sits down on the ground as she says this.

“I… I have an idea…” Riko says getting up from her seat and taking a step back. “Y-Yocchan, you should sit there… then I will sit behind you and play…” Riko takes a deep breath as she feels blood rushing to her cheeks. “The music sounds nicer from that position…”

Yoshiko stares at Riko with wide eyes, the blush returning to her own face before she goes over and sits down on the stool, leaving enough room for Riko to perch behind her, which she does.

As Riko’s arms wrap around Yoshiko, both girls find it impossible to look at the other. Riko, realizing she can’t play like this, takes a deep breath and looks forward at her hands. “Are you ready Yocchan?” Yoshiko just nods in response and turns her head to look at the keys and, as Riko starts to play, the fingers that are on them.

Riko’s hands move with expert skill along the keys, she doesn’t seem to be hindered by the awkward positioning at all. Yoshiko finds her eyelids drifting shut, letting the music waft over her and enjoying the sensation of their bodies being this close together.

When she was finished, Riko took her hands off the keys and lets them fall to her legs. “How was that Yocchan?”

Yoshiko reopens her eyes and turns her head to look at Riko, not even realizing how close their faces were. “You were amazing Lili…”

Riko finds her eyes staring into the pink eyes of the girl in front of her. It lasts this way for what feels like hours for the two girls before Riko finally breaks out of the trance. “I should move so you can stand up…” She giggles as she slides back, pushing herself to her feet shortly after.

Yoshiko attempts to follow her but trips up, sending her stumbling forward, and Riko stumbling back. When she recovers, she finds Riko staring at her with her back to the wall. Yoshiko’s hand was planted, flat against the wall, next to the red hair.

Riko feels her heart racing. Yoshiko was… doing this to her… sure it was by accident… but it was just like the doujins that she had read. She stares up at the pink gems in front of her, waiting for Yoshiko to do something.

“Lili… I um… I have another Christmas present for you…” A blush forms on Yoshiko’s cheeks and, before her mind tells her it is a silly idea, she brings her free hand to Riko’s chin and her lips to Riko’s lips.

Both girls’ eyes close simultaneously as they get washed away by the feeling of their lips together. It doesn’t last too long as Yoshiko pulls away shortly after, leaving Riko against the wall, her breathing deep.

Yoshiko quickly pushes herself away and turns to face the opposite direction to hide the blush that is getting redder and redder as her heart seems to be beating faster and faster. “Lili…” She takes a deep breath. “D-Do you want…” She slowly turns around to look at Riko again. “…to take our contract… to the next l-level?”

Riko’s lips curl into a smile. “Yes, Yocchan… I will be your girlfriend.”