#or to write less than 1k words apparently

[inkedinshadows]

Eternal Choices

A/N: Merry Christmas @duskandcobalt! (not sure if it's still Christmas where you are due to time zones, if it's not... I'm sorry this is late!) Here's the second fic for you!! As I mentioned, this idea came to me while writing the first fic, so I guess it could also be read on its own. I'm usually not good with presents, but I had to write this one. It's also a bit longer than a drabble because apparently I'm unable to write less than 1k words. Hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻

Pairing: Azriel x Elain

Summary: Elain gives Azriel her present for Winter Solstice.

Warnings: once again, it's pure fluff

Word count: 1.5k

You can read the previous fic here

Azriel couldn't stop staring at the painting.

They had hung it above the fireplace as soon as they got home, and now he couldn't tear his eyes away from it while he waited for Elain to return.

When Feyre had given it to them, he'd been speechless, barely able to thank her for the wonderful gift. A perfect representation of him and Elain.

Elain was portrayed in a pale pink gown, the fabric swirling around her ankles as if moved by a soft breeze. Barefoot, surrounded by green trees and blossoming flowers, she stood before Azriel, his shadows lurking around him. But between them, light and dark met, blending and spreading from the single connection they shared — Truth-Teller.

Azriel remembered the day he had given the dagger to Elain, parting with it for the first time since he'd owned it. It was one of his most prized possessions, yet he'd gladly offered it to her. If he couldn't keep her safe himself during the battle, then Truth-Teller would help her protect herself. But she had gone beyond, using it to stab the king of Hybern himself.

But he also remembered the uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation before she'd taken the knife. There was none of that in the painting. No, Feyre had chosen to depict her sister with nothing but love and trust written on her delicate features. It was the same expression she wore whenever she looked at him. And Azriel’s own expression… Despite the darkness clinging to him and his intimidating stance, his lips were curled in a small smile and his eyes were soft as he gazed down at her. The look he reserved just for her.

As if the painting weren’t enough, Feyre had then told them the title: Death and the Lovely Fawn. Azriel had to hold back his tears. It fit it perfectly. It fit them perfectly. He would never be able to thank his High Lady — his friend — enough for the gift. To him, it wasn’t just a painting. It was a symbol of her acceptance of their relationship. Nesta, too, had accepted it from the moment she’d known. She had hugged him and told him that he and Elain would make each other truly happy. Her family’s support meant more to him than he could ever express in words.

“You’re going to wear it out if you keep staring at it like that.”

Azriel smiled as he turned to watch Elain walk back into the living room. The last few tendrils of shadows still swirling around his wings disappeared completely now that she was back at his side, their whispers finally silent in his head.

“It’s a painting,” he replied, already reaching for her. He gently took her hand, guiding her to sit on his lap. But she kept the other one hidden in the folds of her dress. “You’re supposed to look at it.”

Elain chuckled, the quiet sound like a balm to his restless soul. She rested her head on his shoulder, and his wing curled around her by instinct. For a few moments, they just sat there together — her eyes on the painting, his on her.

When her gaze met his, though, she looked nervous. A slight crease had appeared between her brows, and she was chewing on her lip. “Can I give you your present?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip to replace her teeth. “Of course you can, angel.”

He’d given her the rare flower seeds from the continent he’d bought while they celebrated with their family, but she had said she wanted to wait until they were alone to give him his present. Azriel had no idea what to expect. The only thing he was absolutely certain of was that whatever she gave him would be perfect, just as it’d been the previous two years. If only because it came from her.

Elain freed her hand from the folds of the dress, revealing a small square box. He took it almost reverently, glancing at her once to make sure he could open it before he removed the lid.

He beheld what was inside and, for the second time in just a few hours, didn’t know what to say. His eyes found Elain’s again, searching for an answer, for an explanation, because surely it couldn’t be what he thought it was.

Elain swallowed. “I know we’re not mates,” she said with an almost sad smile. “But I want something to represent what we have. To let the world know that you’re mine, and that I’m yours.”

She took his hands in hers, unbothered by his scars. Beautiful, she’d once called them. Over the last year, she had repeated it so many times he was starting to believe her.

Azriel never thought it would happen. Not like this, at least. He never thought Elain would be the one to ask the question. But here she was, sitting on his lap, holding his hands as if they were a delicate treasure, her eyes shining even while her voice quivered.

“Will you marry me, Azriel?”

Despite his shock, he had never been more sure of anything in his life. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He felt relax in his arms instantly, and the most beautiful he had ever seen bloomed on her face. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she picked up the ring from its box. It was a simple silver band, but more than Azriel could have ever hoped for. Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she slipped it onto his finger.

As the small weight settled on his finger, something else settled in his heart — a sense of rightness, of belonging, much deeper than anything he had felt before. They might not be mates, but it didn’t matter. Elain had chosen him a year ago, and now, on the same night where she’d first offered herself to him, she was choosing him again. For eternity.

Suddenly, Azriel stood, Elain stills in his arms. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist to hold on, and he supported her with a hand on her backside. His other hand, the one where she had just put the ring on, slipped into her hair to tilt her head back and claim her mouth in a kiss. He didn’t realize he’d started crying too until his lips met hers.

He could taste their mixed tears on her lips, but most of all, she tasted of happiness, of love, of a bright future. Of home.

When he pulled back, they were both breathing a little harder. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes fluttering open to take in the watery sight of her gorgeous face. And it all seemed so surreal, so impossibly perfect, that he had to ask, at least once.

“Ellie…” he whispered, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “Are you sure?”

Elain’s smile lit up the whole world. “I told you eternity didn’t scare me because I could spend it with you. I meant it, Az.” She cupped his face, her thumbs caressing his cheekbones. She pressed her lips on his again, just a tender touch, before she murmured, “I love you. Now and forever.”

His heart was beating faster than ever before. She could probably hear it, since he was still holding her close. But he had no intention of setting her down on her feet, not when she fit perfectly against him, not when she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and even less so when she had just asked him to marry her and was sure of her decision.

Azriel struggled to find the right words. Nothing seemed enough. Nothing would ever be enough to express the depth and intensity of his feelings for her. But he would spend his life showing it to her — with his words, his actions, his body, his very soul.

“I love you, angel,” he finally replied. He smiled through the tears, but before he could continue, Elain kissed his cheek. Right where the dimple she always wanted to kiss was. His heart did a little flip.

“You just made me the happiest male in Prythian,” he murmured when she pulled back and looked at him again, “The luckiest, too. And I’ll spend from here to eternity thanking you for it.”

He needed to buy her a ring too, and then they’d have a wedding to plan. Azriel had never cared much for ceremonies, and always thought he’d be fine with something simple, just the two of them. But it was different with Elain. He wanted to show the world how much he loved and cherished her, that she had chosen him and claimed him as own, that he belonged to her — body, heart, and soul. He was hers, utterly and completely, and she was his.

But for now, he just kissed her again, trying to convey all he was feeling in the simple gesture, his feet already moving to carry them upstairs and into their bedroom.

If the previous year had been the worst Winter Solstice of his life, this year was the best. And he couldn’t wait for the next ones, knowing he would spend them all with her. Because despite not being mates, despite everything they’d faced, they had chosen each other, and they would keep choosing each other. For eternity.

*dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

[anachronismstellar]

SQH x YQY 👀 I wanna see your take so bad

Hmmmm Tbh what I imagine is something like-

---

They were both working quietly, the meeting long finished, the only sounds the tec tec tec of Shang Qinghua's abacus as the peak lord moved the wooden pieces up and down, pausing from time to time to take notes.

Having just finished a report, Yue Qingyuan couldn't help but turn his eyes to his shidi, noticing his focused expression as Shang Qinghua mumbled numbers upon numbers under his breath. It never failed to impress him how fast the other was able to add ridiculously high numbers, or how Shang-shidi seemed to look at one artifact and know how much it was worth.

Another thing that Yue Qingyuan could appreciate was his efficiency. No matter how much the other peak lords brushed off his forms and failed to hand them on time, Shang Qinghua seemed to know everything that had been used or collected from their missions, as if he had eyes and ears everywhere. It made Yue Qingyuan grateful for his Shidi loyalty, otherwise they would be in a huge amount of trouble.

"Whatever it is that is making Zhangmen-Shixiong stare this much instead of asking, the answer is no, we have just finished with the annual budget, we can't change it," Shang Qinghua said without taking his eyes from the paper in front of him, making Yue Qingyuan chuckle.

"I was just admiring Shang-shidi's skill. You have very nimble fingers," he complimented as he put his own brush down. A small pause would do them good, they had been working for hours now. He was about to stand up to start the tea when Shang Qinghua snorted, a "You should see what else they could," low enough for Yue Qingyuan to realize he wasn't supposed to hear that, but loud enough for him to not have misheard.

The following pause was loud by itself, like the quiet before the thunder.

"I should go," Shang-shidi started to gather all the paper he had just written down, ruining many reports with smeared ink, color crawing up his neck until his whole face was beet red.

"Shang-"

"I just remembered I had a meeting with uh Shen- With Liu-shidi! Yes! And it wouldn't be good to leave him waiting so-"

While Shang Qinghua rushed to grab everything, Yue Qingyuan got closer, gently taking the papers from his hands, holding back his amusement. It wouldn't be kind to laugh at his shidi, even though his flustering was a bit funny.

Yue Qingyuan had a sense of humor, his job just made it hard to demonstrate it.

"Shang-shidi is fine, just got me off guard, that's all. I didn't know shidi had such... Inclinations."

"I mean, with all due respect Zhangmen-Shixiong, you're very handsome man, and you were kinda staring at me like that, then you made that comment, it's hard to not think you were, y'know, making a move, but I'll shut up now, we can pretend this never happened, and-"

Yue Qingyuan's felt his own face getting warmer. It had been a while since someone had been so honest with him, it felt refreshing.

He thought of judging eyes over a painted fan, his heart skipping a beat as he swallowed dry.

"What if I don't wanna pretend?" He heard himself say, and then it was his turn to blush as Shang Qinghua eyebrows rose all the way up to his hairline, warm brown eyes blown wide with surprise.

"Uh- I-"

"I apologize, Shang-shidi, this one didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he whispered as he went to take a step back. They're both stressed and it was getting late, maybe they should wrap it up for the day-

Bitten nails softly scrapped his cheek as the scent of ink filled his senses. He turned his face towards Shang Qinghua, surprised by warm lips against his as a strong hand pulled him closer to an embrace. For many seconds, it had been a chaste press of mouths until he dared to bite down Shang Qinghua's lower lip, chasing the taste of jasmine tea they had been drinking earlier, the heat crawling down from his face all the way to his chest. Shang Qinghua's warmth an addicting feeling as the An Ding Peak lord worked on his robes, opening them with an impressive speed.

And then, hours later, with both of them panting, sweat cooling down their skin, Yue Qingyuan laughed as he kissed Shang-shidi's hand.

"Nimble fingers indeed."

[stvharrngton]

Hii kyrie!! Hope you are doing very well!!

So maybe this is a strange request and it's totally fine if you don't make it, so don't feel pressured love !

So I've been told thru all my life in various types of ways that I'm not pretty or pretty enough, so that has made me so self conscious and I'm just you know aware that I'm not pretty, so I would like to know how do you think steve would react to reader feeling that she is not pretty enough even when she is in a relationship with steve.

It can be smutty or not, what ever you decide is perfect to me love!!!

Ok, bye ily <3

hi my love <3 i'm sorry you feel like that i just know you are super pretty and our stevie would think so too 🥺 i went for smutty i hope that's okay!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v, heavy on praise and pet names <3

taglist: @dukesmebby @saturnband @sweetbabygirlsworld

The mirror sat atop your vanity, specks of dust decorating the glass. The reflection staring back at you was one you’d pondered over a thousand or more times, fingers prodding and pulling at the skin of the face in the mirror. Smoothing over the freckles and blemishes, rubbing at the circles below the eyes.

The reflection was yours, your face, your eyes, your hair and your nose. Your features that you’d come to think about more often than not. When Steve found you sat in front of the mirror, in nothing but your bra and a pair of soft cotton shorts his brow furrowed.

He called out for you when he walked into your quiet home, “Baby?” bottom lip jutting out when he was answered with silence. He reached your bedroom with a quiet knock on the door as he called out your name. Steve entered your room timidly when he was met with your figure in front of the mirror.

“Baby?” He asked quietly, “Everything okay? You never answered me.”

Steve came to stand behind where you sat, hands gentle and warm on your shoulders as he watched your face in the mirror. Your expression blank, like your mind was busy with a hurricane of thoughts. The words that spilled out from your mouth hurt Steve like a knife to the chest.

“Steve, am I pretty?”

The boy stood there dumbfounded, mouth hanging agape with his brows pinched together. He leant in next to you, so his chin was on your shoulder, his face next to yours staring back through the mirror. Steve pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips sweet and gentle on your skin.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, baby, you know that.” Steve watched you carefully in the mirror as your eyes raked over your body, your lips downturned into something sad, “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough-” you sighed, lips pursed together as you tried to ignore the feeling of Steve being so close to you, “not pretty enough for you.”

“What?!” Steve protested, turning his head to face your profile, “that’s crazy, sweetheart. You know I think you’re beautiful, hm?” Another kiss pressed to your cheek, “So hot and sexy, my sweet girl,” his voice was lower this time, lips encasing the shell of your ear, ���how ‘bout I show my girl just how pretty she is, huh?”

Your skin erupted in goosebumps, heat rising up your neck as Steve’s words went right to your core. His lips travelled lower, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he pressed sweet kisses on your neck.

“You got the most beautiful eyes, baby,” Steve started, his hands moving to hold your waist, “so dreamy and your nose? Shit, you got the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.”

His lips followed the curve of your neck to your shoulder, a hand dancing up over your stomach, ghosting over the material of your bra and to your face. Steve let his thumb swipe over your plump bottom lip.

“And baby that smile of yours,” he groaned lowly when you sucked his thumb between your lips, “makes me weak at the knees and I wish I could set your laugh as the sound on my alarm clock.”

You hummed a laugh at his cheesy compliment, Steve sporting a wide eyed grin in return. “See? You’re beautiful,” Steve whispered, tone low and rasp as his fingers found the material of your bra again, working their way round to the clasp.

The contraption dropped to the floor with one fell swoop, freeing your breasts from their confines. Your breath hitched in your throat as the cool air hit your skin, nipples erect and Steve’s for the taking. His large hands cupped your tits, gently squeezing the flesh as his thumbs rolled over your nipples.

You mewled quietly, a soft little whimper tumbling past your lips as Steve took his bottom lip between his teeth, lips coming to your ear once more, “And these pretty tits are so perfect, can’t get enough.”

Teeth nipping at your neck, hands still caressing your tits, Steve ushered you up from the chair, pressing your body into the vanity desk. He pressed himself into your back, the soft material of his shirt scratching at your body, the bulge beneath his jeans felt against your ass.

Steve kept one hand pressed to your chest, the other wandered down your front, a quick squeeze to your hip as he slid his fingers between your ass and his front. Pushing your shorts to the side, Steve ghosted his fingers over the lace covering where you wanted him most, the small wet patch beneath his fingers making him take a sharp intake of his breath.

“And this pretty little pussy of yours,” Steve cooed, fingertip teasing at your entrance, “she’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t she?”

“Steve,” you whined, rolling your head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder. The feeling of his finger barely pushing into your hole driving you insane, your body white hot all over and he was just getting started.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Steve encouraged, “tell me what you want, use your words.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the dirty words he spoke, feeling your arousal poole at your core. You pressed your ass out into Steve’s hands, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his finger. Steve chuckled cruelly at your actions, teasing as he removed his finger from your cunt.

“Steve, please,” you begged, “anything, baby, please just touch me.” You pleading never went a miss with Steve, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips as he dropped to his knees.

Fingers curling around the waistband of your shorts and panties, the material soon dropped to the floor around your feet. Steve peppered kisses up the backs of your thighs, his large hands grabbing the flesh of your ass, pulling and squeezing. Steve pulled you apart, revealing your pussy to him.

Wet and ready for whatever Steve was going to give you, he groaned at the sight of you. Slick covering your pussy, smeared across your plush thighs. He pressed a single kiss to your hole, lips pouting as he gripped your ass.

You moaned loudly at the gesture, eyes fluttering closed as Steve began to move his lips and tongue in tandem. You felt him groan from behind you, the vibrations rumbling through your pussy, your thighs clenching involuntarily. The sounds that filled the room were pornographic, dirty, filthy. Slurping and sucking, licking and kissing.

If there’s one thing that Steve Harrington knew how to do, it was eat pussy like his life depended on it.

Steve grabbed harshly at your ass, his palm coming down against your cheek, a yelp echoing off your bedroom walls. Steve groaned into your pussy at the noise, his cock straining beneath his jeans at the pretty little gasps and whimpers that were serving as music to his ears.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” Steve cooed, “so fuckin’ good.”

You fell to the desk below you, unable to keep yourself up any longer. The pleasure coursed through you like lightning, a sharp flick of Steve’s tongue over your clit sent you over the edge.

“Uh uh, baby,” Steve uttered, “keep those pretty eyes on that mirror.” One hand left your ass, the distinct sound of the metal of Steve’s belt clinking, the leather slapping against itself, “Want you to see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You wailed as Steve never stopped the movements of his tongue, your slick totally covering his mouth and chin you were sure. Eyes shooting open, gaze fixated on yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were hazy, your lips red and bitten. The sound of Steve’s denim being shoved down his thighs rang loud in your ears, the jostle of his wrist as he fisted his cock felt as he buried his face in your pussy.

The beginnings of your orgasm rocked your body, your cheeks heating up as your jaw went slack. The muscles in your stomach and thighs began to clench, your moans and whispers of Steve’s name turned into incoherent mumbles. A jumble of praise and ramblings of how good Steve was making you feel the only things you could muster.

“Stevie, ‘m gonna cum, fuck–” you cried, fingernails digging into the wood of the vanity, “please, don’t stop, baby.”

“That’s my girl, come on, baby, let it go,” Steve groaned, palm slapping against your ass as he sucked and licked at your clit, “keep those eyes open, honey.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your body hot and cold all over, your eyes wide and pupils dilated as you stared at yourself in the mirror, watching yourself cum with your boyfriend’s face buried inside your cunt really was a sight to behold.

Your body writhed against the table as Steve continued to lick at you all soft and slow, drawing out your orgasm until you were crying at the overstimulation. His own fist had since slowed, pumping his cock at a fragile pace, teasing himself like you often would.

When he finally removed his mouth from your pussy, you exhaled a sigh of relief, body slumping against the wooden desk. The quietness of your bliss all but lasted momentarily as you heard Steve groan from behind you.

Fingers still wrapped around his stiff cock, eyes glued to your sticky pussy as your juices mixed with Steve’s saliva dribbled down your thighs. You stuck your ass out for him to see, as if inviting him to slip inside you.

“Steve–”

“Baby, fuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back as he spoke, “I gotta– shit, I gotta see your face when I cum, please?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you spun around, Steve still on his knees, gaze fixated on your lower half. The boy shot up in a flash, hands immediately cupping your cheeks, lips crashing against yours. The kiss was hungry, fervent, Steve having worked himself up into a frenzy.

He picked you up from where you stood, your legs wrapping around your waist, arms slung over his broad shoulders. Steve laid you down on the soft sheets, hands reaching to rid himself of his shirt, shuffling out of his jeans and boxers.

His larger frame towered over you, soft kisses peppered all over your flushed face as his forehead came to rest against yours, his gaze flickered down between your bodies as he pushed himself inside you, cock in hand.

Steve moaned loudly, all high pitched and pretty. A gruff ‘fuck’ trembled past his pink lips, giving himself a minute to billow in the feel of your warm pussy around his cock. The stretch of Steve’s cock was one you had grown to love, the initial sting a sinful pain you craved.

It wasn’t long before he was bottoming out, hips moving hard, cock stroking deep inside your walls, “Fuck, baby, ‘m not gonna last long, shit–”

“Oh, Steve,” you breathed, skin dewy and hot, Steve’s cock stroking your special spot just right. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his tailbone as he rolled his hips into yours over and over again, desperately chasing his own climax.

“My sweet girl,” the boy moaned, a throaty rasp, his hair wild, “you’re so pretty,” he babbled, “so fuckin’ gorgeous. My beautiful girl. So good f’me.”

Steve’s word vomit of praise was endearing, you were sure tears would be lining your lashes if he wasn’t fucking the breath out of your chest right now. He grappled your hands away from his shoulders, fingers interlocking as he held them at the side of your head, lips falling into place with yours as his hair began to fall out of place.

He was on the cusp, you knew that, could tell by the words he was moaning, the way he squeezed your hands so tight, how he kissed you as if to stop himself from wailing out your name.

He fucked his cock into you harder, deeper. You moaned his name into his mouth as he kissed you, a sweet gasp only spurring him on. You felt him twitch inside you, thighs clenching as he whined, “Oh, baby, oh fuck—,” gaze fixated on your fucked out features, “gonna cum, shit—“

As soon as Steve felt your walls clench around his length he was a goner. Hot cum spurting from his tip, pairing your walls as he groaned out your name. Curses fell from his tongue like a chant as his orgasm washed over him.

Chest heaving and breath heavy, Steve whined as he rode out his high. Eyes squeezed shut tightly as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the soft skin of your neck.

He hissed and grunted as soon as he pulled himself away from you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Steve pulled you into his chest, thick ringlets of hair matted with sweat as he lay spent.

Steve let his lips rest on your temple, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he spoke,

“Prettiest girl in the world, baby, y’hear me?”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

WOLF BOY

when ao3 goes down, we write tumblr fic... now on ao3 HERE lol

i used the 15/11/24 @sterekdrabbles challenge for this. the prompt words were GREEN, REACH and SCATTER. i'm also tagging @sterekdrabblesgonelong as it's around 1K words and therefore definitely a drabble gone long lol.

it's a spark!stiles slash derek whump sort of affair, just so you know what you're reading xp

.

The dagger is almost within his reach—so very nearly grabbable.

Other than being eight years old in a hospital room with the smell of rotting flowers clinging to the back of his throat, Stiles doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more than this.

Again, Derek hacks out, “Just run, Stiles!”

Again, Stiles answers no—only this time, it's not with his voice but a yellow-green vine of pure light that extends from his fingertips as he pleads with each beat of his heart for the universe to help him, the tendrils stretching, stretching, then victoriously winding themselves around the handle of the blade. 

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, now with his actual voice, and then the vine of his will is pulling the knife flush into his grip. 

He looks up at the hunter, their face a billboard of surprise, before a shriek rips itself from her belly at the very same time Derek roars from where he's tethered and bound, the wolfsbane-laced chains melting further into his flesh as he tries in vain to once again break free.

Then the evil bastard is flinging herself at Stiles—and straight into the dagger aimed at her solar plexus that his light sends sailing across the cave, plunging it deep into her breast.

It might not be bullseye, but it does the trick.

As she drops to the dusty ground like a discarded ragdoll, the other two hunters' heads snap like whiplash to where Stiles is sprawled, a look of pure terror marring their faces.

The cowardly fuckers drop their weapons and scatter, leaving Stiles and Derek alone—other than the dead woman at their feet—in the large cave they'd dragged Derek into a few hours ago.

Derek's wrung out, and beaten down, but alive. 

At once, Stiles scrambles to his feet to get over to where the ʼwolf is chained up, almost falling back down again when his probably sprained ankle gives way beneath him. 

“Stop fucking hurting yourself,” Derek hisses, and for once in Stiles's insane life he wishes he could gnash his teeth and roar in response, and it have an effect that would be anything other than ridiculous. 

“Oh my god,” he protests instead. “I've just saved your offensively pretty ass with my new spark's apparently awesome Gio-Ju-ju, a-hole, so how ʼbout we be a little less sourwolf and a lot more gratefulwolf to ol’Stilesy boy here, hmm?” he sasses, finding the key to the padlock that's bolted to Derek's chains on the flat rock where his flashlight got dropped when confiscated by one of the hunters. 

Stiles feels petulant, and justified in that petulance as he discards the now unlocked padlock. Then he feels a little wrong-footed when Derek quietly mumbles, “Thank you,” because the guy sounds both in a considerable amount of pain and genuinely grateful to Stiles.

Stiles sighs and kneels down to start prizing the chains away from Derek's red-raw, still-smoking skin, the ʼwolf's forever-stoic face giving away nothing of the hurt he's obviously suffering at the cruel hands of the aconite still desperately trying to seep its way into his body.

“You don't have to do that for me, you know,” Stiles says carefully, hinting at Derek's display of endurance.

Derek's eyes flicker from mid-space to Stiles's face, and Stiles suddenly notices that their heads are actually dizzyingly close.

He swallows, and the sound of it echoes around the cave as if mocking him. 

The second he peels away the last link in the chain attached to Derek's skin, and before Derek can push him away, Stiles brings a hand to Derek's throat to feel for his pulse. 

When determined fingers find it, Derek's face does a thing that Stiles hasn't seen it do before; it's this combination of incredulous and vulnerable, and is so unprecedented, and so beautiful, that Stiles sort of wants to cry about it. 

“You can hear mine,” he superfluously reminds Derek, before saying what he really wants to. “It's not fair I don't get to know—that you're alive, I mean. Like, I know I can see it but… The tactile reassurance? That's, uh, you know, kind of nice, too.” 

Man, he spends way too much time with werewolves. 

Then, when he licks at his dry lips and Derek's pulse quickens under his fingertips, Stiles is so much more than simply placated.

Taking a steadying breath, he feels a million trillion miles away from anything even remotely resembling steady.

He studies Derek's face some more for confirmation of his suspicion, and finds something akin to bashful swimming amid the swirls of those gorgeous seafoam eyes.

Derek likes him back?

Stiles sinks his teeth into his bottom lip; Derek's pulse starts to race. 

Amazingly, it seems Stiles isn't alone in the want he feels deep in his gut, and as it grows and spreads to his extremities, his fingers and toes now tingling with it, he reckons he's maybe beaten-up and bleeding out and half-braindead enough to have the balls to actually do something about it. 

It must be biological, he thinks as he licks at his lips again, that his body somehow knows exactly what to do to hopefully get Derek to do exactly what Stiles wants him to—lick Stiles' lips for him, that is—without him making an actual fully-formed decision on the matter.

Although as soon as he's thinking that, the decision to kiss Derek is unequivocally made—even if it's going to get him shoved into the dirt for trying. 

He's about to lean in when one of Derek's already beginning-to-heal hands stops him by bracing his shoulder. 

“I can smell your pain, Stiles,” he says. “Let me help.”

Stiles tries not to smile as he lies through his teeth. “Hurts here, the most,” he murmurs, touching two fingers from the hand not at Derek's pulse to his bruised, bloody lips. He then curls the other hand further around the werewolf's neck, to hold on.

Derek starts to pant, and Stiles has to hold in a whine.

The werewolf sounds absolutely wrecked when he asks, “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me by wrapping your hand around my throat?”

Stiles's smile then brakes free and is wry as his wit as he answers, “I've been working hard to find out how to woo you for months now, big guy. What do you think?”

And when Derek lunges to crush Stiles's mouth with his own, teasing Stiles' lips apart with his hot, hot tongue and nipping at them with blunted canines, Stiles reckons he knows what it must feel like to howl. 

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to drop me a comment xp

[fairlyang]

18+ smut. mystery girl cont. 1.2🕷️

w/c: 999

tags: 18+ smut. going back, no luck, adult theater, voyeurism, getting ate out, cut short

a/n: alright fuck it I’m making it into a mini series! gonna try to write more parts w less than 1K words only. just for fun!!

part 1.2 — part 1.3

you sat on his dick for five minutes and the only reason you got up was because your friend helped you. his cum dripped out of you but why let it go to waste?

you fixed your panties so no more would come out besides maybe dripping down your thighs. you were barely able to stand up right so your friend held you up as best as she could as she led you out the sex store and towards her car.

after dreamily rambling about his dick making you feel heaven on earth, it was a no brainer you were going to go again.

so the following night you did. you went in a cute little sundress but decided to not wear panties. you only kept your bra on so your tits could pop in case this time around Miguel decided to get out of the hole.

you made your way to the back, following the directions your friend showed you last night and the room was packed.

there were two girls waiting for their turn off to the side just watching the other girls. you got a little closer just to see if Miguel was there, and he seemed like a big man.

but you didn’t see anyone who looked like him. all the men had pale skin. so unlucky.

you then had the brilliant idea of going to the store’s adult theater which was apparently close according to your friend. “Just go through the double doors.” she told you in case you wanted to try it.

you went out of the room and the double rooms were right across. that makes it easy.

you went into them and at first it was dark until you walked inside a little more and you could hear moans from all over.

there was a projector displaying some porn movie and three rows of recliner seats for each side. about six seats per row so it was a decent amount. three rows per side which instantly has you noticing the left side was all men, helping each other out and to the right were a few men surrounding two girls.

you quietly walked to the back row and sat by the middle seats, you had such high hopes but at least you can enjoy yourself a little anyway since you were there.

only bad thing was you didn’t have panties and you’d be exposed. oh well.

you reclined the chair back a little and slowly spread your legs apart, while rubbing your right hand up and down your thigh. you looked up at the screen and it was playing a porn about a girl and her hot older neighbor.

perfect motivation.

you brought your left hand up and started to squeeze your left breast as the video progressed. the girl got on her knees and took the man’s cock out, it was a thick one.

you nearly frowned but then felt someone sit down to your right. you wanted to take a peak but you didn’t. you just continued teasing yourself when you heard a groan and couldn’t help but look.

your prayers were answered and there was the hot older man whose cock had you in a whirlwind.

your eyes looked at the thick cock that gave you the fucking you’ve been needing and you were nearly drooling. you bit your lip and closed your legs to rub your thighs together before looking up at his face.

he was already looking at you. watching your movements, how you squeezed your thighs together, and how you were still squeezing your breast.

his eyes then finally met yours and it was like he somehow put it together. he was only taking a guess because he didn’t know what his mystery girl looked like.

he only knew how you felt.

you decided to whisper something to him, you wanted him to know.

you turned and leaned in towards him, he leaned in as well and that alone had you feeling nervous but you whispered anyway, “I rode you last night.”

he chuckles and gives you a grin. his pants were already starting to feel tight.

of course it was a pretty thing like you. someone he could never have his hands on in public but definitely in a place like this.

he stood up then got in front of you before dropping to his knees. you gasped and your eyes widened when he spread your legs open, lifting your dress up only to find your bare pussy all glossy already.

he looked up at you and you felt your face go warm. a smirk formed on his lips and instead of saying something, he went straight to work on your pussy. he started sucking on your clit as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and he just fucking knew you would taste as delicious as you felt.

he moaned against your clit sending vibrations all over your body before he started going down and began lapping at your folds as if it were his last meal. you moaned and brought a hand down to his hair, lightly tugging on it.

you bit your lip and started to grind your hips up making him move with you. your eyes roll to the back of your head and you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips.

he was eating your pussy as if it was his last day on earth and had no care about breathing. his face was buried in your pussy, just absolutely obsessed with how sweet you taste. he should’ve known you’d taste fucking perfect.

“Fuck Miguel- feels so good.” You moaned making him groan against you.

he was already hard as a rock and he wanted to feel you so bad already.

unfortunately it would have to wait because some of the men broke out in a fight and he gave you an apologetic smile as he went on to stop them but then mouthed that you should go.

next part

[ohbo-ohno]

hear me out: ghoap x reader (noncon) in an abandoned factory. Reader only has an unreasonably short amount of time to escape before they get to keep her and do whatever they want to her

1k game here - no more please! im trying to get through these but they're slow going because im incapable of writing anything less than a thousand words apparently

1.8k of ghoap (mostly ghost) x reader chasing very scared reader through a factory :/ this is very similar to everything else i've ever written so nothing new here folks. (aka noncon!!!) btw this one is just pwp, nothin else much here to see

Your breaths heave out of you in pants, almost violent in their intensity. You feel like you can hardly breathe, but it doesn't matter. all that matters is running, getting away from the monsters chasing you.

You can hear them. Or, one of them at least. Johnny - the Scottish one, the one you'd been stupid enough to follow out of the bar in the first place. His partner - either Ghost or Simon, Johnny had called him both - your sure is silent as he moves. He'd blended into the shadows for so long when you first woke up, and you know he's doing it again.

You can't think about them. If you think about them for too long you'll spiral, and that is the last thing you need.

No, you have to run.

The old factory is a creepy place, cobwebs and dust covering everything, random creaking noises from machines, lights flickering on and off with no rhyme or reason. It takes all of your willpower not to scream when you feel a roach crawl across the toe of your heels.

The shoes are something you're still not sure if you made the right choice on - you can't walk silently in them, but you have absolutely no idea what you could possibly step on. The last thing you need is to somehow give yourself tetanus while running from your possible killers.

Still, the way you click-clack along the concrete floors makes you wince with every step.

"Where are you, bonnie?" Johnny echoes nearby. You've been trying to track him by listening to how many times his voice echoes, and he sounds very close now.

You duck into the first room you see, shoving yourself along a dark wall and fumbling around in the pitch black. The room must be windowless because there isn't even a hint of light, nothing that lets you see even vague shapes in the room.

Still, it's silent. You hear loud footsteps approach the door, and breathe out a large sigh of relief when they keep walking. Johnny shouts something indiscernible, and his voice fades into the distance.

You go limp against what you're sure is a wall, letting yourself breathe as heavily as you want now that you're sure there's no chance of being found.

The adrenaline makes your hands shake. Your lungs ache from the strain you've put them under, and you feel a little lightheaded from fear. But you try to shove all of that away - all that matters is that you stay away from your pursuers until morning.

The door opens.

Any peace you'd managed to find disappears in the blink of an eye, and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your whimper. The door opens inwards, and whoever steps in can't see from around it. You're safe until he lets it fall closed behind him, plunging the room into darkness.

It's got to be Ghost. Even without knowing them all that well, you know Johnny wouldn't be able to resist taunting you. You hadn't seen much more than a silhouette, but you're sure this is Simon.

You can't try and move. Your shoes are too loud, and trying to kick them off would be just as loud as walking. Your only option is to stand still and pray he doesn't find you.

He's silent as he moves. You can't hear breathing, or footsteps, or even if he brushes over something. The room is as quiet as it was before he found it. But you can't relax. Your legs are tensed in preparation to run, and your heart beats so loudly you're sure he could hear it if he came close enough.

But he doesn't. The room is silent, and he doesn't find you.

There's a point where you're nearly convinced that he never came into the room at all. Is it possible that you hallucinated him? That your exhausted and terrified brain conjured up a threat that isn't real?

It takes a long, long time, but eventually you start to relax against the wall. It must've been nearly ten minutes of dead silence now, surely you've just started seeing things. No man could stand that still, stay so quiet, for so long.

You let your arm fall from your face, puffing breaths into the slightly musty air. Another few minutes, and you'll move again.

"Boo," a voice whispers in your ear, from directly next to you.

You scream, leaping away from the sudden wall of heat at your side. It doesn't let you, a hand snapping out and grabbing you by your upper arm before you can fall. You scream again as he pulls you closer, don't stop screaming as he turns you around and pins you by the chest to the wall.

He's all man and heat as he presses himself to your back, lips hovering by your ear, breaths ghosting over the sensitive shell.

"Got you," he whispers, nipping at your ear. "Stop your wailin', you're alright."

You do not, in fact, stop wailing. It feels impossible to swallow the sobs spilling from your throat, like if you close your mouth they'll choke you. So you stand pinned to the wall, tears already spilling down your cheeks as you blubber mindlessly.

Ghost laughs over your shoulder. "Little crybaby, aren't ya? That's alright, doll, I don't mind a few tears."

You can feel him undoing his belt behind you, and that only makes you more panicked. You throw yourself back against him, desperate to get him off, but you're nowhere near strong enough to do anything.

Ghost grunts over your shoulder, using one hand to force you flush with the wall again.

"Stay," he grunts, naked hips brushing against your ass as he flips your skirt up. "Unless you want me to get a little rougher? That what you want, love? Want me to throw you down and fuck you until you bleed?"

You keen loudly, shaking your head as best you can with your face forced into the wall. "No, no, nonono, please, please, you can't- oh God, please don't-"

He laughs lowly, rocking his hard cock between your thighs. "Just Ghost will do, love. Now, let's stretch you out a bit, hm? No need for blood when you're good for me."

You're bone dry between your thighs, no room for anything but fear in your head. Simon doesn't seem to mind, slowly stroking over your clit until your body betrays you.

"There we go," he murmurs as you first start to leak onto his fingers. "Little more for me, love, c'mon."

You've got no choice but to obey. It's like Ghost has a manual on how to make you feel best, stroking over all the parts that make your cunt drool, using just enough pleasure to keep things feeling horribly good.

You sob against the wall, pressing your forehead so hard into the rough surface that it hurts. All you can do is stand still and take what he gives you, forced to bear witness to your own destruction.

He's silent as he slips one finger, than another, inside of you. You whine against the intrusion, the slight sting a horrible pleasure.

"Hush, love," he soothes, rutting himself against your leg. "You're almost ready, won't be much longer now."

That only makes you more distressed, and you sob into the wall.

He's true to his word and doesn't spend much longer fingering you, his own intent seeming to be to spread you out enough to take him. You hope the fact that he only used two fingers means he isn't too large, but the size of each finger tells you otherwise.

You can't help but cry out when you feel his warm head rest against your entrance. Your hands fist against the wall as you fight back every urge to lash out, knowing that'll only make everything worse.

Ghost laughs over your shoulder, like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"Still for me now, good girl. Won't make you do any of the work, just gotta stand there and take it for me." He speaks as he pushes slowly into you, raising his voice enough to be heard over your sounds of pain and pleasure.

He's thick, so much thicker than the two fingers he stretched you with, and there's a moment where you think he really has made you bleed. The pain isn't sharp enough for that though, just a never ending push into the clutch of your body.

"There you go," he moans when his hips meet the meat of your ass, as deep inside of you as he can get at this angle. "You feel like heaven, doll, never felt a cunt this tight, fuck."

"Pl-please," you splutter, breath shaky. "Please don't, it hurts..."

"Oh yeah? It hurts?" He coos, hands stroking faux-comfortingly over your hip. "Poor thing, 'm just too big for your little hole, huh? You'll just have to relax, then, I'll make you feel good once I'm finished."

A little heartbroken noise slips from your throat, but you do your best to listen. There isn't much else to do but bear whatever he chooses to give, so you try to relax your muscles, letting the wall take your weight.

"Good girl, good girl for me," he breaths, grinding his hips deep into you.

You feel him inhale deeply against you and try to mimic the pace of his breathing, bracing yourself as he pulls out.

Mercifully, he's silent as he fucks you. He seems to be lost in your body, shoving his face into your neck and running his teeth over the thin skin over your pulse.

It feels almost dream-like, to be taken like this. You can't move with how closely he has you crowded, and the room remains the absolute pitch black - you can't even see the outline of Simon's form over your shoulder. It's like what's happening is stuck in only this room, and you tell yourself that when it's over, when you leave, you'll be able to pretend this never happened.

That illusion is ruined when the door opens, flooding the room with light.

You get another look at Ghost as he pulls his head away from your neck to look over - he's sweat-slicked and flushed, eyes narrowed as he looks to see the intruder.

"Aw, you started without me?" Johnny whines, leaving the door wide-open as he trots over to where you're pinned.

Ghost huffs a laugh over your shoulder, continuing to fuck you at his same pace, leaving you wracked with pleasure. "First come, first serve, Johnny - shoulda been faster if you wanted to play with her first."

Through teary eyes you can see that Johnny doesn't look all that upset as he leans on the wall next to you. He plants a hand in the center of your chest, pushing you back into Ghost to make just enough room for him to squeeze between him and the wall.

You're left using his body to hold yourself up, instinctually gripping his arms to keep from collapsing.

He nudges your chin up with one hand as Ghost starts to really pound into you, leaving you drooling onto his thumb.

"Don't worry, bonnie," he winks. "I don't mind sloppy seconds."

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

School-side Staycation - Staff Shenanigans

@ashipiko has a super fun 1k follower event going on that reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend a While ago!! I decided to turn it into a drabble, so I hope you guys enjoy some NRC Staff Shenanigans!! (Including my staff/greenhouse caretaker oc, Aspen Zoi - I apologize in advance for the stim word "like" OTL if you don't check out his profile, just know he speaks like your stereotypical surfer/hippie/stoner)

Also apologies OTL I have to write on my phone due to Technical Difficulties, RIP my formatting. Um just as a heads up, there is some food talk in regards to calories and dieting. It's not talked about a lot, but it is in there.

Also also this is my first time writing all the staff together so I hope it's at least entertaining!

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

"Turkey burgers, really Divus, I'd have thought better of you." Mozus scoffed lightheartedly over the younger man's shoulder, watching the black latex clad hands work in a mix of shredded vegetables into the meat.

Crewel raised a questioning brow to his senior, using his shoulder to push away hair from his face for the upteenth time that day. Even with his dark shades on, both the unamusement and the spark of competitiveness was felt to be fanned.

"Well, Mozus, if you cared to ever look past those dusty old history books of yours and indulge in the dietary world, you would know that ground turkey-"

"Sucks. It sucks." Vargas interrupted, shaking his head in disappointment. He was wearing near neon orange shorts and a white tank top, though clearly splattered with some stains from his preparation, shades sat nicely atop his lofty locks. His food was currently concealed in the two heaping platters he had under aluminum foil as he set them down on the table next to the barbeque. "It's got less protein, less iron, less zinc, and more sodium than ground beef. It has a little more 'healthy' fat," the air quotes were heavily emphasized by the gym teacher, "but for Sevens sake Divus, it's supposed to be a vacation sort of thing. Let the kids loose for a little while."

An audible "hmph" left the alchemy professor, moreso at Trein's smug grin than Ashton as he refocused on his work. His UV protectant, black, long sleeve shirt was rolled up to his elbows, a simple red short sleeve button up layered on top. "Not everyone can afford to give up their calorie intake over a vacation."

"Then you may as well have just made black bean patties and volunteered yourself to make the vegan option."

Trein sighed and shook his head at Ashton's apparent naivety as he opened his grill, throwing a few patties on. Perhaps his air of superiority would have been less humorous if not for the cargo shorts, white shirt, the blue, green, pink and yellow tropical overshirt, the matching, tropical bucket hat, and the apron that read "Grillmaster", but Trein continued anyways.

"He's using the leftovers of his dogs food that he thawed and forgot to use."

An awkward silence filled the air between the three of them, save for the soft sizzling of Treins burgers and the distant sounds of their beloved students having fun. Ashton spoke up in near disbelief.

"....Divus is that-"

The older of the two suppressed a scowl, trying to play it off best he could as he waved off his former underclassmans concern.

"Ground turkey is ground turkey, how I was going to use it is irrelevant! Really now Mozus was that necessary?!"

Vargas exchanged glances with Trein, before grinning a little more, willing to 'poke the bear'.

"I know you call them your pups but..."

Crewel felt his eye twitch slightly. Not much got to him, but the implication that 1. His dogs weren't incredibly dear to him, and 2. That his students weren't held to the same regard as his dogs in terms of how he cared for them, was not something he felt he could articulate well enough to get it through Ashton's thick, thick skull.

" It's still perfectly fine food, it's ought to be better than whatever Dire has!"

In an attempt to get the attention off of him for once, Crewel directed his, and his colleagues attention to the approaching headmage, ignoring the soft snickers behind him from Ashton for the sake of his sanity.

The headmage wore a huge grin under the stupid mask of his, dressed in his normal vacation attire. His arms were outstretched, as if anyone there would hug him as a greeting - none of them would, but especially not now that one was grilling, the other had his hands plunged into raw meat, and the third...well Vargas wasn't doing anything that would impede him from doing so, but he pretended to look busy as he fidgeted with the aluminum foil from one of his platters, careful to not lift it up.

Trein glanced at the headmage as he joined them under the white tents, his clawed gloves drawing most of his attention as Dire lowered his arms to his sides.

"Dire. What are you bringing to cook?"

The headmage looked at him blankly before smiling, chuckling a little awkwardly as he took his hat off and held it to his chest. As if he didn't already look pathetic, now he looked like he was going to apologize, and the staff in front of him already looked unamused.

"Ehe, well you see, I was generous enough to allow our students host this event-"

Knowing glances were exchanged between the three as Crowley continued.

"So neeever did I ever think my kindness would be taken advantage of like so! After all the budgeting and set up and organizing and ordering and nights laying awake and wondering how to make today the best success it could be, I didn't think I would be expected to cook too!"

The masked man rested the back of his hand against his head dramatically, trying and failing to gain the sympathy of the staff who all very well knew he had signed off on the event, and being a part of the catering. Hell, he had admitted it himself- he hadn't done any of that. That was all part of hosting, something that had very much not been on his shoulders, like many other responsibilities this year.

Vargas moved to the table across from Crewel, starting to make a protein-packed sauce to go with his still-mystery food, shooting Crowley a bit of a shit-eating grin.

"Well I guess you better go buy hotdogs or something from Sam's and be prepared to lose."

An indignant squawk left Dire, his dramatic display clearly not working in his favour, and he couldn't fathom why.

"Lose??"

"Hot stuff comin' through! And it ain't just me-"

Sam wheeled a tri-level service cart over the grass with ease, thanks to magic, each level with absolutely delicious smelling, but hidden food. Aspen followed close behind, Willow, his Pekin duck toddling after him.

Dire moved out of the way so as to let the trio through, Sam moving next to Vargas and starting to load tray after tray onto the serving table, a determined and slightly crazed expression on his face.

"Ain't nobody beatin' Mama's mac'n cheese recipe. Not even your fancy ass brisket Ashton, don't pretend like that ain't whatchyer tryna hide under there, I know you too damn well fo' you to try an' hide it."

Vargas and Same broke into easy conversation as Aspen hung back with Crowley, who was still visibly confused. He looked down at his hands, as if they held the answer to his questions.

"Lose?? Beating his mother's recipe??? What have I missed????"

Aspen's single, amused "haaah" was rather annoying to the headmage. Despite the sharp turn of his head and the glare he directed at Aspen, he just gave him his same old dopey grin.

"Aww man, you really didn't, like, read anything you signed, did ya? The teacher who like... looses the cook off gets pelted with water balloons by like...the whooole student body. It would really suck if one of us forgot to bring something. It'd be like...immediate disqualification or whatever."

The blond tilted his head a bit and giggled as he watched a few of the students play volleyball not far from them, oblivious to the rising panic on the headmage's face.

"But you haven't brought anything?! So what if two faculty members didn't bring anything?! The penalty is halved, right?!"

Aspen let out a small laugh.

"Hah. As if. Babygirl and I made seven layer salad, which is like, on Sam's cart, and a buncha desserts last night, isn't that right?" He bent down to pick up Willow, kissing her head as he cradled her. "I mean sure, baking isn't, like, COOKING but I don't think anybody is gonna complain about brownies 'nd, like, homemade ice cream, y'know? I just gotta wait to bring it out cuz..like....the ice cream...duh."

He waited a beat, the rising panic from the man beside him finally catching on. He was about to ask, but Crowley was on his knees next to Sam in a split second, holding his hand and groveling.

"PLEASE- no, actually, as your boss, I DEMAND you open your shop and sell me the best cuts of meat- no, actually, I want as many tube's of ground beef, ah, no, Trein is already- ground PORK-"

Sam shook his hand away from Crowley in mild disgust.

"Oh hell no, might I remind ya, I'm on vacation, as are the rest of us and the little imps. If you want to serve hot dogs, you'll have to go into town and move fast. Otherwise you're gonna have to embrace your fate of death by a thousand waterballoons." Sam swapped the position of one of his trays with Vargas' platter, so as to get his jerk chicken onto the grill after changing his glove out for an untouched one.

"With all due respect, your poor plannin' does NOT constitute an emergency on my part, Mr. Crowley, Sir."

Dire let out an undignified noise at Sam's facetiousness and lack of cooperation.

Trein looked down at the rather defeated looking headmage and sighed at the mess of a man, shaking his head again in disappointment.

"For Sevens sake, pull yourself together Dire. You could go ask the ghosts in the Cafeteria if they've got anything they'll lend you to cook."

Crowley looked like a kicked puppy at Trein for a moment before standing back up, beaming and near launching himself at him for a hug, which Trein avoided as if this was something that happened often. Despite not getting what he wanted, Crowley clearly had new vigor.

"Ah! You're right. Of course, if the ghosts are there I could- hm! Nevermind, nevermind, yes thank you my dear friend, I knew you wouldn't let me suffer! Unlike SOME people." He shot a fake dirty look at the rest of his beloved faculty, only to be met with snickers and mildly amused expressions. Yes, even with all their jests and disagreements, these were the people he felt most comfortable around. His expression softened for a half second before he clapped twice and smiled widely again.

"I'll be back with something delicious! I swear to defeat you all!" His voice lilted playfully, before he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A shared sigh came from Trein and Crewel, amusing their younger colleagues with the similarity.

Crewel wiped at his head with his shoulder again, grinning knowingly at Trein.

"Mozus."

"Divus." Trein kept his focus trained on his burgers, though his voice had an air of amusement to it, and it was clear the corner of his mouth was kicked up in a small smile.

"Were you really trying to be of assistance?"

Crewel finished rolling the last of his turkey blend into disks, turning his full attention to his conniving collegue.

Trein hummed a bit in response.

"Yes. Not to him, to us, but his absence makes it much easier to concentrate."

Crewel shed his latex gloves, put some hand sanitizer on and walked over to 'supervise' Trein's grill, before grabbing a patty that was cooked and looking over it in mild disgust.

"Concentrate on what, perfecting a burn on your patties, oh 'grillmaster'" he mocked, breaking a piece off and eating it, hardly hiding his distaste.

"Ah, I see, you're trying to make up for your lack of seasoning using charcoal, well old man I can guarantee the turkey burgers you were so quick to dismiss will certainly be better than that piece of semi-edible Sahara."

Trein sighed, annoyed, plucking the rest of the patty from Crewel's fingers and throwing it out.

"I always burn my first one. It guarantees I won't burn the rest of them. If you used those astute powers of observation you're so proud of, you'd have seen the rest of the burgers are cooked beautifully."

He lifted the foil just enough to show Crewel the admittedly, mouth-wateringly delicious looking patties underneath, though Divus refused to show any indication that he was impressed.

"They're still bland. The students don't have a grandpa stomach like you."

Trein rolled his eyes internally, huffing, but even Sam and Aspen snickered at the comment.

"It will be fine once I make my sauce to go with them. My daughters love my cooking, I'm sure our students will as well. You have your dogs as reference for your tastes. I would be more worried if I was in your shoes."

Crewel moved towards Sam, who made room for him, moving his chicken to the top rack so Divus could use the main part of the grill to start cooking.

"You say that as if I don't cook for myself either. Really Mozus, I'm hurt by how lowly you think of me. Besides, I understand cooking as not only an art, but from the very chemical bases of it. I have every confidence that if no one else, I will be getting votes from Pomefiorians."

Aspen snorted from behind him, waving his hand dismissively.

"Nahh, Poms are gonna go for Sam's mac or, like, his chicken. They're like, tired of eating that Vil guys super bland food. Ya might, like, get Vil himself? Maybe? But I feel like he's prolly just gonna beeline it to my salad cuz of that new green diet thing one a his freshies said he's on. I only know cuz like, they were getting veggies from the greenhouse. If anything, I think ya might pull a few votes from Savanaclaw, but like, to be honest, even as a vegetarian, Ashton's brisket looks really good and prolly will come in after Sam's food."

Crewel let out a soft sigh, but Vargas was beaming, as Sam and Aspen exchanged finger guns and a wink. Trein squinted slightly at his watch.

"Lunch is meant to be in about 45 minutes. Aspen, Vargas, seeing as the two of you have nothing better to do, I suggest you start cutting up veggies for the burgers and fruit for after. Just make sure to use some hand sanitizer first."

The two exchanged a glance, both mouthing a mocking, lighthearted 'yes dad' behind Trein's back, making Sam snicker a bit.

"Dontchya worry Mozus, they got it covered."

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

And that's where my brain stopped RIP

In case you're wondering, Crowley showed up like 3 hours late and got ambushed. It's okay though his "food" would have put him in last place anyways.

I'm not used to typing things like this out on my phone, and I'm even less used to reading them so this is not proofread or betaread or like. I'm not. Rereading it so here's to hoping it flows okay and it's as engaging as I think it is lol.

ANYWAYS thank you for such a fun event Ashi!!

Taglist: (ask to be added)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 4

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?

Warnings: Love Letters, mentions of stalking and cheating.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

“Though we face a perilous fight in the sky, I am most afflicted by you when my feet are on solid ground. Try as I might to evade your presence, I am only a man plagued by my jealousy and affections.”

His knuckles cramped as he gripped the pen, the words pouring onto the page, this time his printing was messy less concise. It obviously hadn’t worked the first time, writing a letter to relieve his thoughts, they still overwhelmed him. He was sure no one else had noticed you had been acting strange lately, maybe your friend but none of the men you interacted with. There was a curiosity in your gaze, as if you were always trying to decipher if they were him. He had left his last letter on your pillow, nearly getting trapped in the cabin as your group returned to base, being in there felt wrong, he would find other ways to leave any future letters. The letter he currently wrote would never be met by your eyes at all.

He knew he was being foolish, he could not feel such jealousy while he hid himself behind paper and ink. Yet, there you were in the window, simple but ever so captivating and unknowingly fuelling the growing fire. The letter he had tucked in his jacket pocket in a rush now felt like it was burning the skin underneath. You were distracted by the coffee, he tucked the paper beneath the ledge without you or anyone else around noticing.

Another party was in full swing, their mission had been successful- they had lost only one plane but they had made it to Scotland for Curt and his crew to land safely. You sat in an armchair in the corner, once again alone. Half of your job was to converse and boost morale so sometimes it was nice to have a little serenity; the girl wouldn’t let you stay alone in the billet, you had tried that. You had not noticed that Major Cleven was seated in the armchair beside you until you heard him chuckling along to the boisterous, out of tune ‘singing’ of John Egan.

“How does does a stoic man like you befriend someone like Major Egan?” You genuinely questioned, their difference more apparent than any similarities besides both men were talented pilots and great leaders.

Cleven glanced over to you, never really having an interaction unless he was getting a coffee in the morning. “He didn’t really give me the choice.”

“He is very social, especially with women yet you sit here alone. Are you married?” You knew that you were potentially overstepping but your curiosity had bested you.

“Not yet.”

The small longing smile and his tone told that he was thinking of someone back home fondly. “So there is a lucky lady awaiting you back home?”

“Marge.” He handed you the small photograph that he kept in his breast pocket. You studied her beauty, clear skin, perfect curls and joyous smile.

“She’s real pretty Major.” You returned the photograph, “And lucky to have someone so dedicated to her. I’m betting you that most of these men dancing around here tonight all have unsuspecting sweethearts waiting for them at home.”

The Major nodded, his eyes meeting those of his approaching friend, “I am not a betting man.”

Egan occupied the empty armchair on the other side of Cleven, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, “Your bombardier is one of those men if I do recall.”

“Dougie and I are merely friends, sir.” You once again defended yourself, feeling less embarrassed and more adamant.

“No fella waiting at home?” Egan asked, having overheard your previous comments about the ever so lovely Marge.

“Not at home,” Suddenly the men’s gazes felt heavy on you, or maybe it was your heart in your chest that felt heavy. “I believe he’s across the continent now, and I am no longer his to consider.”

“Just means you can dance with any man here.” Egan shrugged it off, sensing the tenderness of the subject. “Say Brady, why don’t you take our girl for a spin around the floor?”

John Brady looked up with his wide eyes upon being volunteered.

“Oh, You don’t have to John, I am perfectly capable of finding my own dance partner.” You assured him but he was already tucking away his pipe but then you were interrupted by a frantic Douglass.

“Helen was telling me about some letters?” His voice was low but not quite a whisper, attracting the curiosity of the men around you.

“Please, excuse us.” You sent the group a tense smile before dragging the bombardier by his elbow into the quiet night air.

It seems like he’s trying to give you a stern look but it comes off more as concerned. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “They are just letters of admiration.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Dougie, they’re just from some harmless airman who had nothing better to do.” You simply brushed off his concern over the matter.

“They are clearly depraved, watching you like that, taunting you.” He insisted, his voice lowering to a whisper as a small group approached to enter the hall. You led him further away from the entrance to keep anymore of your conversation away from prying ears.

“And when you were gonna tell me that you have a sweetheart at home?”

It was his turn to sigh, fidgeting uncomfortably at the topic. “That is complicated.”

He was not expecting your heel to harshly slam against his booted toe, pain exploding throughout his foot. “Ouch. What the hell was that for?”

“Stop being an idiot.”

“This isn’t about me, it is about these letters.”

“Which everyone knows about now, thanks to you.” Your voiced raised louder than you had heard it in months, your frustration with the situation reaching its limit. “Good night, Dougie.”

You left no room for the conversation to continue as you wandered off into the darkness. Your night had been ruined and no one could stop you from your serenity now.

x x x

Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers @jointherebellion215 @gretagerwigsmuse

[forest-hashira]

A Little Swing

heeellllloooooo everyone! i'm back with another demon slayer fic for y'all, this time as yet another entry for @kentopedia's "Love Through the Ages" collab! i can't even definitively say this is my last entry bc my brain is still cooking up ideas whoops. make sure to check out that masterlist to see everyone else's entries, and to find my first two entries there as well (one for gojo, one for geto)!

also, i'm apparently making a game of it now, not writing more than one thing for any demon slayer character. i've got 3/9 hashira so far, who's next? kidding, kidding.... unless?

read on ao3 here | wc: ~1k | cw: gender neutral reader, reader is described as pretty & wears a dress, brief mentions/consumption of alcohol, the whole polycule is here but no names are exchanged

Parties weren’t really your scene, especially parties as big as this one; they never had been. But you always said yes when one friend or another asked you to go with them, insisting that you’d find someone to dance and have a good time with. You always hoped they were right, but so far that had never been the case. 

And now here you were, tucked into the corner of the bar, having long since lost track of your friends. The music from the live band was loud, far louder than you’d expected, so little effort was made to communicate with anyone but the bartender. So you stood there, leaning against the bar, sipping your gin and tonic, watching the rest of the partygoers dance and laugh and spill their drinks on one another. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone making their way towards you, and when you turned you were more than a little surprised to see a young woman, probably about your age. 

“Hi,” she greeted, a small smile on her lips. “I saw you over here all by yourself, and thought you looked kinda lonely, so I wanted to invite you to come dance with me and my friends. We all think you’re really pretty.”

You blinked in surprise at her words, not having expected her to be so forward. As you considered her offer, you took a moment to look her over: she wasn’t very tall, but she wasn’t particularly short, either, with dark hair a little past her shoulders and light colored eyes – maybe grey? It was hard to tell in the dim lighting by the bar. The dress she wore was blue, and even for a flapper style dress it seemed a little short to you, the neckline cut a little lower than most people wore, but it suited her well.

“Who are your friends?”

The girl glanced over her shoulder for a moment, then turned back to you. “The tall man with the white hair, and the two girls in dresses like mine.” She pointed in their direction, though really she didn’t need to; the three of them were impossible to miss.

The man in the group was a giant. You could tell he was well over six feet tall, even from this distance, and his broad shoulders filled out his shirt almost too well, especially since his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms; every part of him was large, apparently, though you shoved that thought aside as quickly as it entered your mind, not wanting to allow yourself to drift down… less appropriate avenues. 

Before you were able to pull your eyes off the man, he caught you staring, and he grinned, shooting you a wink that had your face heating with surprise and embarrassment. Deciding that was your cue to look over the other two women, you quickly averted your gaze. The women appeared to be about the same height as the one who had approached you, with similarly dark hair, though one of them had striking yellow bangs that framed her face, and the other wore a high ponytail with hair that still reached the middle of her back. Their dresses matched, as well, both in the same style as the first woman; the one with yellow bangs wore red, the one with the ponytail wore purple. Even with the unreliable lighting in the room, you could tell they were beautiful.

“You know what?” you said, half to yourself, half to the woman still waiting for an answer. Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you set your glass back down on the bar with a small grin. “Yeah. Let’s go dance.”

Her eyes lit up at your words, and she was quick to grab your hand and pull you back to the dancefloor with her; you couldn’t help but laugh softly at her eagerness, and you hurried to keep up with her.

Pushing through the other partygoers proved easier than you expected, and it wasn’t long at all until you’d reached the rest of the group.

“Hi!” the woman in the red dress enthused, her cheeks flushed, though whether that was from exertion from dancing or from drinking, you couldn’t tell.

“You look really good in that dress!” added the woman in the purple dress, having to shout a little to be heard over the music and laughter.

“Thanks!” you replied with a grin, giving a little twirl to show off the full thing. It was a relatively simple piece, a deep green that accentuated the shape of your body in a very flattering way. The most interesting thing about the dress is the fact that it sparkles, light glinting off the material with every twist and turn you make as you settle into the rhythm of the music with your new companions.

“Glad you could join us!”

The sound of the man’s voice has you turning to face him; it’s a little higher than you would’ve expected from someone of his stature, but it suits him.

“I don’t usually get asked to dance with such good looking people!” Maybe the drink was making you braver than usual, or maybe you were just tired of being a wallflower at all the parties you got dragged to by friends who would eventually abandon you. Either way, you were ready to cut loose and enjoy yourself for once. 

“Hard not to want someone as flashy as you by our sides!” He winked at you again, his platinum hair and magenta eyes practically glowing in the colorful flashes of light that engulfed the dance floor. 

A pleasant warmth filled your chest at his words, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Conversation between the four of you was practically nonexistent after that, the music washing over you as you twisted and swayed spun to the beat, laughing so hard your ribs ached and the muscles in your cheeks hurt. 

For once, your friend had been right: you had found someone to dance and have a good time with.

feels a little weird posting something so short (especially since it took me so long to actually finish, rip) but hey! there's a first time for everything, lol. also ty leigh for looking this over for me!!! i hope you guys all enjoyed this little bite of sparkle daddy and Vibes 💜

tagging: @kentopedia @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @witchbybirth @marinnnnnnnnn @peachdues @ghost-1-y

divider by adornedwithlight

[voidwhump]

Here Be Demons #1

Ok, so apparently at some point I wrote like 5k words of exorcism based whump and just. Never posted most of it. I’m going through and editing/rewriting to try and warm myself back up to writing regularly. Also lemme know if the formatting is fucked up I’m posting on mobile :)

Contains: implied religion, demonic possession, exorcisms, ~1k words

The blood was evaporating from the walls.

That was a good sign. Ariel finished packing his equipment into his canvas bag and stood, watching as the last of the bloody writing lifted from the rough wood planks. It left faint pink stains that luckily weren’t readable. His patient was slumped limp in the chair Ariel had bound him to, head lolled forward onto his chest. Ariel cautiously walked over, checking over the runes on the manacles for any deformities or changes to the script that would nullify the binding. None stood out. After another second of consideration he unlocked the cuffs, the risk of needing to rebind outweighed by the hope that waking up unrestrained would be less stressful to his client than the other way around.

As the manacles clunked against the hard wood chair the man groaned, eyelids fluttering. Ariel backed away a few steps, one hand on his pendant as the man raised his head.

“Hey, it’s Simon, right? How’re you feeling?”

The man looked up, eyes searching the empty barn before settling on Ariel. He had developed dark circles that could be mistaken for bruising, and his lips were dry enough to crack and bleed when he opened his mouth to respond.

“Yeah, better,” Simon’s voice sounded as dry as his lips looked.

Ariel offered him his water. The man gulped it down, wiping his mouth off as he handed the emptied skin back to Ariel.

“Thanks. Did anything happen? Is anyone hurt?”

Ariel shook his head at the common question. “No one got hurt. You’re lucky you have a wife that listens to her children, they’ll almost always notice before anyone else,”

Simon smiled and let Ariel help him to his feet. He was trembling, and leaned on him as they began to walk back to the house. Ariel would tell him to take it easy for a day or two if he could.

“Let’s go let everyone know you’re alright, and then I’ll give you some temporary wards so nothing can hit you when you’re down.”

They entered the house where Simon’s family was waiting. As the door closed behind them, Simon’s wife, Jess, peeked around the kitchen door frame. At her husband’s tired wave, she flew down the hall, coming close to knocking him off his feet with a hug. She took his face in her hands and inspected him, looking over to Ariel.

“No demons?”

“No demons,”

Jess kissed her husband and led him to their living room, Ariel following behind. Simon’s daughters were on the couch, waiting expectantly. They were soon clinging to his legs, causing Simon’s feet to drag as he stumbled to the couch to collapse. The children immediately took advantage of his prone position, climbing on top of him. A rapid series of questions followed:

“What do demons look like?”

“Was it scary?”

Ariel sat down with Jess and filled her in. Simon wouldn’t remember much, he should relax for a day or so, and they should be extra vigilant for a month or so. He handed the family some wooden charms that when activated would serve as a light repellent of the supernatural for around a week. He also mentioned that if anything ‘unlucky’ that happened regularly stopped happening while they had the charms, it might be due to an outside force and they should feel free to have him back for a more general cleanse.

Ariel waved goodbye to the family and walked home, taking his time to wander through the trees. He noted the life around him, juvenile birds perching nearby, how the leaves had matured from spring to now, early summer. It would be their off season soon. He made it home just as the sun was setting. He was greeted by Layli, who appeared from behind a tree as Ariel approached the outskirts of the town.

“Success I’d assume?” Layli smiled and looked at Ariel expectantly.

“It went well. He’s got an adorable family. I’m glad they caught it so early.” Ariel accepted Layli’s half hug and they walked together to Ariel’s house.

The town was beautiful in the sunset, the last rays of light streaming through the tree branches casting a warm orange glow on the houses tucked around trunks. It wasn’t good luck to clear large area around here.

Ariel invited Layli to sit down and have some tea and they accepted. He set up the kettle and got out the honey and tea leaves. The two went back and forth for a while, planning a day for a picnic or maybe just a walk sometime soon. The kettle boiled and Layli got down some mugs while Ariel poured the water through the tea leaves into the teapot. They waited for the tea to steep and lounged around. The conversation remained light. It was good for both of them to keep it that way, what with their line of work. The tea was finished and Layli had things to get done so they left, Ariel sitting down to finish his record of the exorcism.

The possession had been caught early, and he’d forced it into the second, more exposed stage so he could start the exorcism with minimal damage. He admitted that he’d rushed a bit and the demon remained unidentified but definitely minor. The client had to be restrained but the demon either didn’t know how to or couldn’t modify the restraints or holy symbol. No backup had been required. The family had been provided with charms and instructions.

Ariel left his notebook open on the desk, waiting for the ink to dry. He sat back in his chair. It had been a while since he’d had an actual break, sure, there had been gaps between jobs, but he was always on call and it was tiring. Maybe he’d take a real break. Go visit his parents or something. It had been a while. He closed the notebook and stretched. Time for bed. Ariel got up and changed into a more comfortable shirt, lying down on his bed, gazing out the window at the rising moon. He closed his eyes and let himself relax, imagining the tension of the exorcism dripping off him and soaking into the floor and dissipating into the dirt underneath it. He quickly drifted off.

[kickassfu]

could you do 10 for the ask game please! :)

Thank you for the prompt lovely!!!!! I hope you enjoy this (not) mini fic. Because apparently my brain decided to write more than 1k words :)

Also on AO3.

10. i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.

“First memory you have of me.”

“What?” Steve startles out of his slouch; he definitely hadn’t fallen asleep watching the movie. Definitely not.

“Come on, Harrington. Keep up. We’re playing twenty questions.”

It’s a little scary and a lot adorable the way Eddie is so excited about all of this, but mostly it’s just confusing. “We are? Since when?”

“Since right now.”

Maybe this is his punishment for falling asleep. Or maybe Eddie is just a hyper little shit that Steve loves too much to ever say no to, and they both know he’ll just go along with whatever Eddie comes up with on the spot for fun, or torture.

“And that’s your first question? I thought these started out with shit questions, like what’s your favorite color or whatever.”

“Ugh, fine. That can be your question then. And it’s black. I know, how original of me. My turn now, what’s the first memory of me that you can remember?”

“Dude.” He wants to ask why? Why that question? Why does it matter? But again, this is Eddie and Steve loves him. Is in love with him. It only takes one look at those dark brown eyes of his, shining and interested and fond, and Steve is a fucking goner. He’d give him anything if he asked. Carve his heart out of his chest to give it to him. Anything. Everything. “Ok then.”

Steve sits up, folding a leg underneath him so he can turn towards Eddie on the couch, realizing they’re way closer than he expected. It takes his breath away a bit and he has to clear his throat twice before he can control his wildly beating heart. Eddie looks so excited, expectant too, waiting for Steve to actually talk and just, “Right. Ok.”

The thing is, at surface level the story is silly and practically nothing; if you don’t look too deep into it Steve is fine. Free. Eddie is a hundred percent the type to look deeper, to find meaning in flippant words, to seek until he finds the blood he’s smelling in the shark infested waters that is Steve’s life.

And.

Steve is so gone on him he can hardly keep it inside on a good day just talking shit together, much less talking about the moment that rocked little baby him to his core.

He can totally do this.

Just. 

Keep it chill. He’ll never know it. Never remember it.

“Y’know, I think it was the first day of school.”

Eddie’s looking at him oddly right away and somehow Steve’s already messed it up. Great.

“Sadly, there were a lot of first days of school and then even more subsequent days after. So I’d appreciate a little more accuracy and details, please.” Eddie smiles maniacally, leaning his head on his fist, giving his full attention.

Steve kind of wants to bite him for it.

“Fuck. Fine. It was your first day of school. You had just moved in with your uncle and you were a surly little shit. Didn’t talk to anyone and you glared at everyone that even looked your way.”

What he doesn’t say is that he had a fuzzy head, the beautiful curls nowhere in sight yet, that Steve wanted to rub and pat (and bite). That he had noticed how tight Eddie held onto the straps of his backpack to the point it looked painful. His bright brown eyes shining in an attempt to keep his tears in. How he made himself look bigger, meaner so no one would fuck with him.

But-

“That’s not really a memory though. You’re just describing how I was acting the first day you saw me. You can do better, Stevie. Come on.”

“Do you even remember me from back then?”

“You can’t ask another question before answering mine.”

“Fuck you.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Eddie whispers, wiggling his eyebrows and potentially trying to murder Steve.

Because what the fucking fuck.

He seriously hopes he isn’t blushing, even though his face feels so hot. Too hot not to be giving everything away, right then and there. Eddie and his unintentional cruel jokes will be the death of him. Ain’t that a thought, Eddie ever wanting him. That’s the biggest joke he’s ever heard, and sadly he’s the punchline.

“I have no idea why this is so important to you but here you have it. I kept following you around like a sad puppy, and you basically told me to fuck off. That’s my first memory of you. Happy now, dickhead?”

“Keep going,” Eddie says, scooching over even more towards Steve, their knees touching and he just feels like crying. No idea why, but his eyes burn from the effort not to start bawling in front of the man he loves.

“You realized what a little asshole you were being when I started sobbing right there in front of you. Which let me tell you, I didn’t do often or at all. Because by then I had already gone through the very hard lesson of men don’t cry, and especially not Harrington men, so man up and stop being a whiny child. But I was crying my little heart out because you didn’t-” want me, need me, like me, “You thought I was annoying. And you just grabbed my face, thumbed my tears away and apologized. It was so earnest too. I guess you were always soft-hearted and kind.”

Somewhere in that whole ramble of his, Eddie picked up Steve’s hand without him even noticing it, rubbing soft circles on his knuckles.

“Is that really all?”

“What’s your first memory of me?” Steve asks instead. He’s already cracked his ribs open for Eddie to see, he can’t- he just can’t say it if Eddie doesn’t remember it. His heart will be broken either way but he needs to know.

Eddie’s real smile is absolutely brilliant. Quiet and soft, capable of lighting up the whole world, and not something Steve is used to seeing often. It’s absolutely breathtaking, Steve has no idea how to react to it.

“A beautiful, crying, boy kissed me and then ran away blushing and stuttering up a storm. It was all very cute and innocent. I was on cloud nine the whole way home, touching my lips with my fingers over and over again.” Eddie sighs dreamily, bringing Steve’s hand to those very same lips, kissing it, “He was my first love, you know?”

Steve doesn’t even try to stop the tears, just lets them run their course until they tire of it. “Why are we playing twenty questions?”

“Hm. Well, we were watching a movie and you fell asleep.”

“Yeah?” Sometimes, Steve feels like Eddie thrives in confusing him. Gets some sick enjoyment out of it.

“And you just looked so cozy, so cute, so adorable. I wanted to kiss you. I want to kiss you. Always. Jesus H. Christ, so much, all the fucking time. But I couldn’t just do that. So, twenty questions. Except it was really one question that I was interested in asking.”

“Because you wanted to know if I remembered kissing you?”

“Because I wanted to know if you still wanted to kiss me.”

“And? Do I?”

“Who was your first love?” Eddie asks in between biting Steve’s fingers, instead of replying.

“Why not ask about my current love instead? Or who I want my last love to be? Stop obsessing over the past, you weirdo.”

“Aren’t those all the same thing?”

It’s the smirk that does it. The surety. The confidence, no hesitation in sight. Like he knows Steve so completely, understands him, sees him. It’s everything that makes Eddie who he is, that gets Steve to crawl onto his lap, to kiss him till neither one can breathe.

How many first kisses can you get with the same person, Steve wonders.

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

W o w

2 more stellar chapters!!!!! I can’t wait for our fav receptionist to try out being a ring girl! (Is the asshole guy gonna try something and we get to see Frankie/the guys jump in? Bc protective men is 😭😭)

Anyway I love love love how you wrote the guy’s relationships with each other!!!!

If and only if inspiration strikes, I would love a scene from a “guys night”

Either before our girls comes into their lives or after, just then having fun and being them 🥹 bc I feel a lot of fics over look the importance of their friendship esp in regard to Frankie like Frankie fics will sometimes act like he has had no support until the girl comes in his life but yours just shows how much they all love each other

Doesn’t gotta be long (or even at all!) maybe just a nice lil thing 🥰

Ily have a wonderful day!!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Best Friends, Beers, and Bets - Through the Scope Drabble

Rating: everyone (just the boys being silly and goofy together)

Word Count: 1K

Notes: hi everyone ! i know i have been gone for a hot minute and i am deeply sorry about that. there has been a lot of not so fabulous things going on in my life and in my mental state that has left with with little motivation to write. the worst part is? im 3/4 done with chapter 11 ... like girl plz just finish that hoe DAMN ! but i found the motivation today to write for this lovely ask i received a little bit ago (: i love the idea of getting to take a peak inside how the TF boys are before Estrella came into the picture. so a very big thank you to @romanarose for this !! chronologically, this takes place before chapter one.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Frankie, Will, and Santi sit together in the back of The Barrel at their usual table. The bar isn't particularly full this evening, but the comforting hum of conversations emitting from the regulars fill the empty chairs. They talk and laugh amongst each other as they wait for their last member to arrive: Benny. It had been only four days since his receptionist quit, but the hurt was apparent to everyone. Usually, she was the one to help him clean up after they close the gym down for the evening. Both of them managed to get it done relatively quickly too. Unfortunately, in her absence, Benny had to do it all himself. The other guys had repeatedly offered to give him a hand in the evenings, but Benny refused. He said that he had it covered and that they should just wait for him at the bar. Not wanting to press him further, the trio would retreat across the street. 

“Here he is! We all thought you fell into the washing machine and couldn’t get out.” Santi claps Benny on the shoulder as he makes his way to buy a round for everyone. 

“You were 15 minutes slower than yesterday.” Will says, tapping his watch while his brother takes a seat next to him. 

“Gee, that makes me feel great! Fish, do you want to rub salt in my wounds too?” 

“I’m just happy you’re finally here, man.” Frankie’s eyes convey sincerity. “But you’re going to run yourself ragged doing all that clean up by yourself. Why don’t you let us help?” 

“Yeah.” Santi rejoins the table and passes out the bottles. A few seconds of silence go by as each man takes a moment to wash away the stress of their day with deep gulps of chilled liquid. “We are offering to help you clean. It’s not like you’re forcing us.” 

Will nods in agreement and tips his bottle in both Frankie and Santi’s direction.

“I just hate the idea of y’all doin’ work I’m completely capable of.” 

“It doesn’t make you any less of a man if we help you clorox a few work benches, Benny.” Frankie says gingerly.

“I know, I know. To be honest with y’all?” Benny scoots closer into the table. “It’s kinda lonely there without someone to talk to in between clients.”

“My bed is going to be kinda lonely too if it makes you feel any better.” Santi offers. 

This manages to get a laugh out of the very tired looking Benny. “Oh is it now? Poor you.”

“Poor me is right! Your receptionist may have kept you company during the day but she kept me company during the night. Now that she's quit, that means I have to as well.”

“That’s not what that means at all, Pope.” Will says with a raised eyebrow. “You can still see her even if she doesn’t work at Brass Knuckles anymore.” 

“Well she also started talking about getting exclusive…”

“And there’s the real reason!” Will laughs. 

“Can we get back to my issue?” Benny begs. “What do I do? No one has answered the ads I’ve posted online. I don’t know how much longer I can handle juggling training clients and taking care of the in between tasks.”

“What about good old fashioned paper flyers? You could give some to me to hang at the auto shop. Will could take some to the VA?”

“Absolutely not.” Santi says with conviction. “I will not have a man take this job and ruin my chances of meeting another beautiful woman.” 

“Fine.” Frankie rolls his eyes. “What about a bookstore or a coffee shop? Does that sound better to you?”

“That’s not a bad idea, but do people even read those flyers? I know I don’t.” Benny shrugs.

“Well you’re not the one that's desperate for a job. I would just make sure you print out the ads on bright paper so it catches peoples eye.” 

“That’s not a bad idea either.” Benny says to his brother. “Still, who knows how long it's going to take before someone calls about it?” 

All four men are quiet as they brainstorm possible solutions to the problem that's currently plaguing them.

“I’ve got it!” Santi snaps his fingers. “I bet you that you can’t find another receptionist within a week of the last one leaving.” 

“Pope, what the fuck?” Benny looks shocked.

“Yeah, why are you actively saying he can’t do it?” Frankie questions. 

Santi only chuckles and Will shortly joins him when he puts the pieces together in his head. 

“You cabrons aren’t listening to me. I bet you that you can’t find another receptionist within a week of the last one leaving. You’ve never backed away from a bet as long as I’ve known you, Benny.” 

“He does love to prove you wrong, Pope.” Will has his arms crossed over his stomach and they rise and fall easily as he begins laughing again. 

A look of realization settles over the two other men.

“Alright, I’ll take you up on that.” Benny and Pope shake hands across the table. “You’re a dick though. She’s been gone for four days now. I only have three days to find someone else to hire.” 

“Damn.” Pope takes a sip of his drink. “I guess you better get your ass into the printer shop tomorrow and make some flyers. If you don’t, drinks are on you when the clock runs out.” 

Will and Frankie cheer knowing that no matter how this bet ends, they will be getting free beer. 

“What happens if a man calls before a woman does?” Benny looks smugly at Pope. “I’m not goin’ to tell him no if it’s in my three day window of search time.”

“Won’t happen. I can feel it in my bones.” 

“Even if, what did you say before, a beautiful woman calls about the job, that doesn’t mean she’ll want to immediately hop into your bed.” Frankie states playfully.

“You think she’s going to want to hop into yours, Fish?”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @mashomasho @lilmizmoz @angstylittlepascal @sofiparallel @selflcontrol @adriennemichelle98 @painitemoondust @pedritosgirl2000 @tpwkmera @romanarose @missbabyjay @missgurrl }

[asgodsfall-if]

As Gods Fall Chapter 3 Update

I have risen from the dead! Well more like dug myself out from under an unreasonable pile of stuff to do at once. But that is not important. What is however is that I'm back and once again able to write on a consistent schedule.

Chapter 3 of As Gods Fall serves primarily as a moment of respite after the rather frantic ending to Chapter 2 (unless you're a smooth infiltrator) that focuses on the more grounded part of detective work. Analyze evidence, interrogate suspects, make some new friends. Or enemies if you prefer.

It's a short update of roughly 9500 words bringing the current total to 88.5 words. (I've rebuilt some bloated technical systems which is why there's technically 1k less total words than it should.)

In the next few days I'll be posting a rough roadmap for where I want to take AGF in the next few months, so stay tuned. For now however enjoy the new update, which can be now found on Moody since Dashingdon apparently can't be updated anymore.

If there's any feedback you want to share feel free to join me on Discord below. I'd love to heat about what you loved and even more so what you think could use some improvement.

Obligatory Patreon and Ko-fi plugs:

https://www.patreon.com/cavusrex

https://ko-fi.com/cavusrex

[moccabunie]

things I've learned after a year writing fanfiction

This is a post from a non-writer who, apparently, now writes (❓) And this is a little crazy to me, considering that a year ago writing less than 1k decent words took a lot of effort. But this year I have completed a +100k project. (It's still difficult, though.)

I found out that the more I wrote, the easier it was to get into the story. So I think that being captivated by my own story has made a lot. I am an eager fanfiction reader, but I had yet to really try to write something on my own.

That was until I got hyper-fixated on three characters and wrote a small story about them sharing a room, and it was one of the funniest and most rewarding things I've done. So I was like "oh, maybe I can try to imagine stories I would like to read?"

(1) story one - a bird told me to wait

The first thing I considered was to make it completely self-indulging. The second was to make it as evocative as possible, not only telling what was happening. I like sensations and emotions, so I really wanted to write things I would like to feel as a reader. I wrote this story, and after that, I added a second longer part because I was enjoying it a lot. I used to doodle about the characters and make small annotations about their dynamics, but there wasn't really a lot of planning here.

(2) story two - beneath the moonlight

My second attempt was a three-chapter story (not so distant from the previous one that can be read as three parts too). But for this one, I wanted to challenge myself because I wanted to explore new themes and tropes, so I made a brief list of the things that should appear here. (but honestly, I just wanted to write a soft mating bite scene lmao, because I was super into a/b/o at that time.) I used keep notes app this time.

I barely showed explicit themes here but I got to enjoy the story anyway. This one wasn't difficult to write because I felt familiar with the characters. It's a light story but these 20k words gave me the courage to take a step further. I said to myself

"stop being a coward. you have enjoyed this. keep writing."

(3) story three - lucid dreams

This one was planned for four or five chapters, quite in the same line as beneath the moonlight. But, and the keyword is planned, it became a full 13 chapters as I developed the story and the characters. If I wanted it to be coherent then I needed to explain the things, build the context, and introduce the world. But it was also an experimental work. I took my notebook and listed the new things I wanted to try, such as - write in past tense - write first and edit later

my process was something like this • imagine random scenarios with pretty imagery as I listened to music • doodling the characters doing things so I didn't forget • open the notes app to write random sentences and dialogues in the middle of the night, I'll find a place for them later • dream about the story and daydream about the story

as for the physical notebook, I have scribbled A LOT there during the writing process.

(a little bit chaotic but functional enough)

One thing I wanted to keep in mind was the evolution of the characters, or in other words, how they were gonna be at the start and the end of the story. And this made things a lot simpler because it gave me an insight that was helpful whenever I had to decide what kind of decisions the characters would make along the story.

Parallelly, I was aware of my narrative flaws, as well as there was a lot of vocabulary and grammar that would escape me in a different language. So I used the notebook to do writing research. Some of my pages were like "how to write action scenes," or "tips for flat scenes." Whenever I felt blocked I read again these pages.

I'm going to copy down here some tips that were useful during the writing block days.

• read another book or fic you like, since sometimes, getting yourself caught by another writer's style can help you to flow through your own. • scroll on pinterest and try to find pictures that capture the vibe of your story, maybe try to describe them or setting a scene in a similar environment that you can see? • changing the setting (for example, day to night, or sun to rain) can add more variants and ambiental tools to play with. • or, changing the character's pov. maybe a scene feels flat because it's narrated by the wrong character. • use objects, not just the characters.

(4) finishing a story

To have an insight into the plot, I wrote the main scenes in really short sentences. That was useful for the first chapters, but suddenly I had 70K words of the story and a lot of details to track. Frequently I had to split chapters into two parts because the "short sentence" became a very long scene. See this comparison: the scenes' guide in the last chapters usually are fragmented into shorter scenes. That's how I avoided losing my mind as I wrote (?)

These are a few tips that were useful to me during this last part.

• write the important plot points as they are mentioned so you can come back to them later and don't forget about them. • keep a scrip to annotate significant things about the characters to make the story consistent. • notion pages is a great place to make inspo boards (usually I added 4 pictures for each scene). During the last chapter, I used the to-do list tool to keep track of the closed story points and the things that were yet to happen • list some of your favourite past scenes, those that have been nice to write, so you can pursue the same vibe again.

The last two months writing the fic I joined the nanowrimo to keep myself motivated but also to have an impulse. My only goal was getting the habit of writing everyday, not minding how many words (usually it was around 400-600 daily). I ended that month with 16k added on my wordcount (to me, that was a lot!). Since I enjoyed that little challenge, I did the same on the next month, resulting in finishing the fic :)

The most important thing during this time was remembering myself from time to time why I am doing this. Let me say I am an utter perfectionist, so I would easily get trapped in making-the-story-perfect, which would end in a writing block. So each time this happened I repeated to myself that I didn't want to write a good story. I just wanted to enjoy and have fun while writing a story, so I should write only things I enjoy. And this simple thing was incredibly helpful whenever I wasn't able to continue a scene.

I think that this is what most writers say, but now I have come to understand that it's true: just have fun. Write what you wanna read.

(5) the next story - requiem of the sleepless

This would be the third part of my first fic. I miss these unhinged boys and I have a little draft of (unholy) things I want to happen to them! Now I want to unlearn everything I know. I want this story to be zero planned, I just want to ~feel~ the characters and make a lot of random things happen. This is about not forgetting why I started, so here I am again.

Being a non-writer writing.

thank you for reading ♡ 

[rolloollor]

Apparently I posted the first chapter of Fire in his Skin in late October... so I've been writing and posting mallerollo stuff for over a year! Wow.

In that time, I've posted nearly 200k words. I've received over 1k kudos and 20k hits, which I think is not an insignificant number considering how small the tag is on ao3. The mallerollo tag is in a bit of an upswing at the moment and there are now over 25 fics. I seem to recall the ~official~ designation of a rarepair being like less than 100 fics in their tag? Or was it 400... Something like that.

I really like the mallerollo corner of the fandom. Everyone's been consistently nice and enthusiastic. I don't see a lot of negativity here and we're too small for drama, thankfully.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm really thankful for everyone who takes the time to read my fics and especially those who leave kudos or, the holy grail for writers, leaves a comment. I write because it's fun, but I post because I want to share something with people who might enjoy it.

I don't have a conclusion here. I can't say I'll post another ~200k next year, since I will probably take a bit of a break after the longfic I'm currently working on. We'll see what happens.

[rykno-j]

Overheating (1/?) (H/azbin H/otel)

never thought i'd actually write a sickfic for a tv man but here i am i guess.

"(1/?)" is there because i might make a continuation

characters present: v/al, v/ox, v/evlette (mentioned)

small disclaimer: if i wrote v/al in a way that made him soft/likeable just know im not excusing any of his actions okay? okay.

also, theres H/azbin-H/otel-Universe level of cussing in here, just as a warning.

word count: 1k

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

"I can't FUCKING post anything with this shitty signal, so you're going to go down there and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!"

"Woah, woah Velvette, since when was babysitting added on my list?"

"He deals with your shit all the time, so just grow a pair and return the favour."

"Alright, alright, but you owe me one."

-

-

-

"Vox, is everything-" Valentino stepped into the control room, narrowly avoiding a spark that flew through one of the wires as the lights flickered above.

"Bad time Val, I'm not in the mood for your shit right now." A tired voice came from the center of all the buzzing screens.

"Well I hate to be the one who spoils all the fun dear, you know that." Valentino crosses the bridge to reach other platform. "But I really need you to stop fucking with all the lights in my studio, I'm only filming a sex-in-the-dark kink next week and now's a tad bit early."

"I don't c-care about your sex studio" Vox replied without turning around.

Valentino smirked when he heard the static in the other's voice. It was always entertaining to annoy vox whenever he was in this state. The reactions he got were simply.. electric.

"Soo, what are you working on this time?"

"Nobody's buying our fucking product, Val." Vox turns around, a hand propping his head up, looking clearly pissed off. "I don't know.. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Valentino raises an eyebrow. It was rare to see Vox admit defeat such readily. "Want me to help?"

"Uh, fuck no? Did you really think I'd have forgotten the kind of stunt you pulled the last time I let you assist me? The moment that shit got aired it look less than a day for hospitals to be filled with sinners who got that remote stuck up their ass."

"Hmm, how was that my fault in particular?"

"You promoted it as a f-FUCKING dildo!" A spark flew from one of the wires tied to vox as his voice glitched out once again.

"But it did sell, didn't it?"

Vox groans, swiveling his chair back around to face the panel. "If there's nothing else, I have a meeting in five." He gets up, mutely pulling on his bowtie before turning around with a sigh. "Why are you here again?"

"You're upset about something," Valentino explains in a whiny tone. "It's fucking with everyone in the building and has apparently become my job to calm you down." While talking, he circles around Vox, putting a finger under his chin while his other hands wrap around his waist. "Want me to help.. ease the tension?"

While this normally would have worked, Valentino never expected Vox to push him away, a hand rubbing the smudges off his screen.

"Not today. I have an image to uphold. Go fuck with some of your whores or something."

Valentino frowns, but says nothing else.

"Now," Vox says, taking in a breath, "if you'll excuse me." He steps back with a mock half-bow, body turning into electricity as he zaps himself into the nearby circuit.

Valentino stares blankly at the buzzing televisions, sighing as he pulls out a cigarette. As he turns to light it, the wires in front of him flash and sizzle as a bright blue bolt of electricity strikes directly in front of him.

As the smoke clears, Valentino blinks at a very disorientated Vox who struggles to sit up from his position; face-flat against the floor.

"Are you-"

"What the fuck? That has never happened before."

"Clearly." Valentino rolls his eyes, but proceeds to offer his shoulder, which Vox unconsciously leans into. "A rat got to the wires?"

"No, I ran out of energ-" Vox started, then stopped. "I forgot one of my documents and had to come back."

Valentino watched, unamused as Vox nearly fell over if it wasn't for the table holding him up. He side-eyes the other, ears picking up the obvious sounds of Vox's internal fans overworking to keep his head at a normal temperature.

He places a hand on the back of his head, not missing the way Vox flinches. Despite himself, Valentino wanted to do something to help. But 'help' wasn't in his list of strong suits, so he figured he'd do it in a way that was.

"Voxxy~ want to have sex?"

A spark of electricity jumps from Vox's antenna to the other.

He took that as an unspoken yes. "Will you cancel the meeting for that?" Valentino wraps his lower arm around Vox. "I had to dismiss all my actors thanks to the power-outage you caused." He notices how Vox looks away at the mention of the power failure. "So take responsibility."

Vox slouches over. "I'm not-"

"Oh you don't have to do anything," Valentino reaches out to pinch Vox's cheek. "I'll top today. Or do you want to have control?"

"No, it's fine. I'll cancel my meeting." The relief in his voice was unintentionally obvious.

"Can you make it to the bedroom? Or do you want to rawdog it here?"

Vox grumbles, but makes no effort to push Valentino away when the moth opens one of wings to wrap around him.

They walk side by side, Valentino's wing tightening around Vox when they crossed the bridge together, preventing the possibility of his legs going numb and falling into the void.

It was admittedly nice whenever Valentino would act like he genuinely cared. Vox was sure he did, despite how they seemed to be in more of a duo-benefiting sexual relationship most of the time.

On his part, Vox tells himself, he too was taking advantage of Val's offer for sex to skip his meeting.

..That was all there was to it.

-end-

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

i might make a part 2 where i struggle through the process of making vox snz despite his lack of nose.

but besides that, tysm for reading!

Part 1.5 ->