#that’s it the first wip I’ll be working on when I get time gonna be the prince miles AU

[tornado1992]

AAAAAAAAAH

knighting his baby brother...........

inspired by @000marie198's post

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

[shadowkoo]

love me softly

→ Summary: When your long-distance boyfriend's visit falls through, you decide to make the most of your free time. But after a day out, you're in for an unexpected surprise when you get home.

↠ taeyong x f.reader | 1.9k words | 18+ ↠ genre: angst, fluff, smut, established relationship, idol au, long distance au

→ Warnings: lots of pet names, a touch of sad vibes in the beginning but that turns around pretty quickly, the sweetest softest smut i’ve written in a while, praise kink, the lightest hair pulling idk if it really counts lol, body worship (yong really really love his girl okay), creampie, unprotected & explicit sex, if i’m missing any lemme know

→ Networks: @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

→ Author Note: happy october :) this is just a lil shortie oneshot (which was supposed to be a drabble skldjfa;lksdfj) to get me back on writing track, i’ve got a big spooky fic coming in the next few weeks!! divider credit

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Taeyong mumbles through his phone. “It’s taking us longer to film than we anticipated, so I’m gonna be delayed another day at least.”

Your boyfriend had initially set aside time in his very busy schedule to come visit you after he finished filming his newest music video in LA; which should’ve wrapped up a few days ago. Since you live on opposite sides of the world, he wanted to take advantage of being only a few states apart instead continents apart. You’re just a quick three hour flight away and he’s been thinking about seeing you ever since he planned this break in his schedule.

Except his plans keep changing; first it was production problems and now it’s the weather. They just can’t catch a break. And all of this is cutting into the time he is supposed to spend with you.

“Is it even worth visiting now? We’ll only have a day or two left from the week we planned together."

Taeyong’s brows furrow, “It’s worth it to me, you’re worth it. I know it’s not ideal, baby, but I miss you so much. Even if we only have a couple of hours together, I’ll still come to you when this is finished.”

Hearing the film crew calling his name through the phone, you sigh, letting the welled up tears fall down your cheeks. They’re ready to start filming the next scene and he has to go, again. You won’t be seeing him today, again.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I have to get back on set. I’ll text you later, okay?” Taeyong’s heart rips into pieces when he hears you sniffle.

“Okay, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He hangs up and takes a couple of deep breathes, blinking back his own tears. He hates when you’re hurt, especially when it’s his fault. Taeyong lets out a puff of air, time to pull it together. The faster he perfects this scene and those to follow, the faster he can be on his way to you.

It’s the next day, and you wake up with swollen eyes from crying all night. You push back the blankets and force yourself to get up. Sitting at home and being sad all day won’t do you any good.

You know that it’s not Taeyong’s fault he keeps getting delayed, everything that’s happened has just been an unfortunate string of events. You’ll admit that going to see him had crossed your mind last night, but then you thought better of it.

Girlfriends at work can cause problems, you don’t want to distract him or be in the way of the crew. Plus, you two haven’t fully gone public with your relationship yet. His management team has been informed for a while now, and other NCT member’s know too.

But the millions of fans? That’s a daunting step that you two haven’t taken yet. You’re not necessarily hiding your relationship, but you’re not flaunting it out in front of the world either.

As you get dressed, you shoot a quick text to your friend Fia to confirm your plans for coffee and a trip to the bookstore. Running on little sleep, you're in serious need of caffeine, and you've been eagerly waiting for your favorite author’s new book to drop.

She replies almost instantly, saying she’s in and excited to see you. You skip your usual makeup routine and throw your hair into a loose ponytail before heading out the door.

Stepping outside onto the leaf-littered sidewalk, you can’t help but smile—it’s finally October, your favorite time of year. The air feels crisp, and everything has that warm, cozy vibe that you love, from now until the end of the year. It’s the perfect season for coffee dates, soft sweaters, and losing yourself in a good book.

Fia is saving you a window seat inside her favorite cafe, “Hi! It’s been too long, I got you an Iced Pumpkin Chai.” She cheerfully hands you the drink, “So, how have you been? I thought Taeyong would be coming with you?”

“Ahh, right,” you say, before taking your first sip. “He’s stuck in LA unfortunately, but I still wanted to catch up you.”

“Oh no, that’s a bummer,” she says, resting a hand on your arm. “How are you handling it?”

“Better than last time, but it’s still not fun.”

“I bet, well if you get lonely you’re always welcome to come stay with me. I don’t think James will mind.” James is Fia’s elderly cat, who takes his naps on the windowsill quite seriously. He’s to sleepy to care when Fia has visitors, as you’ve witnessed.

“I might take you up on that offer.”

Meeting up with Fia completely turned your day around. The two of you sipped coffee, chatted about your latest reads, and vented about the upcoming book-to-movie adaptations that are sure to fall short. Then, you made your way to the bookstore, continuing the conversation.

After each grabbing a few books, Fia convinces you to go thrift shopping with her next. By the time you finally make it home, your arms are loaded with the day’s haul.

You set down the bags so you can punch in your door key code, letting yourself in. The afternoon sunlight shines through your windows, illuminating the beautiful bouquet of marigolds on your table with a warm glow.

‘Hmm, that’s weird,’ you think to yourself as you set the bags down next to them, ‘Did I buy these earlier this week and forget about them? That would be just like me with everything that’s been on my mind.’

You think nothing of it and head to your bedroom, ready to change into comfier clothes for the rest of the night. Earlier, on the walk home you decided you’d spend the rest of your night by making your favorite soup for dinner, and then settling in for a Halloweentown movie marathon.

Just inside your bedroom door, you see a hoodie drapped over a suitcase. Your heart swells as your eyes drift over to the bed, where your boyfriend is peacefully sleeping. Not wanting to wake him, you change quietly and climb into bed and wrap yourself around him, you need to make sure this is real and not a figment of your imagination.

He rolls over and envelops you in his arms, kissing you softly. “Mmm, I was wondering when you’d get back.”

It’s really him.

“How are you here right now?” you ask, pulling back to scan his face.

“We finished filming late last night. Well technically this morning around 3am, and I got on the first available flight.”

“How long have you been here?” you ask next.

“Not long, just enough for me to change out of airport clothes and climb in bed,” he chuckles, pulling you back in for another sweet kiss. His lips gently press against yours and a hand reached around to the back of your head, letting down your hair so his fingers could run through the loose strands.

Taeyong tugs your hair with the lightest touch, but enough for you to let out a soft gasp. He uses the opportunity to push his tongue in past your parted lips.

Your hands rub up his solid chest, and you moan into his mouth as his kisses get a little more rough, a little more desperate.

“Did you like your flowers?” he asks when your lips are just barely touching.

“They’re beautiful,” you giggle, “I couldn’t figure out where they came from. I thought I might have gone crazy.”

“I saw them at the market just down the street and they reminded me of how radiant you always are.” His eyes gaze into yours and you can see that he really means that. Your heart melts.

“Ugh, I missed you,” you murmur before pulling him in for another long kiss, only separating when you need air.

He admires how swollen and wet your lips are while he hovers over you, looking down with desire-filled eyes.

“I missed you so much. I missed kissing you. I missed the way you taste. The way you mewl when I touch you right here,” he whispers, his hand slipping in between your legs, sliding them under your panties until his fingers find their way home.

Tossing your head back into the pillows, you squeeze your eyes shut as one finger, and then two, dip inside your slick heat.

“God, so wet already.” His fingers pump into you again and they curl at the right moment, lighting your body on fire. He keeps a leisurely pace, wanting to savor every second of this. He can take you from behind later. Right now he wants to prove how much he missed you. How much he loves you.

“Mmm, yes,” you moan, having longed for this so much over the past few months. He knows you so well, your body is so in tune with his. “Let me touch you too,” you breath as your fingers find his waistband. You stroke his growing length. Feeling the weight of him in your palm has always makes your mouth water for what is to come.

Rough Taeyong is devilishly hot, but soft and sensual Taeyong is a whole other breed of demon. He’ll worship you until you’re a dripping mess.

He watches intently as your eyes flutter shut, knowing very well that you’re close. He strategically presses his thumb up against your aching clit, rubbing in dangerous circles until he feels your walls start to tense. “Come for me, babe. Come all over my fingers like the good girl I know you are.”

His words are enough to send you over the edge. He swallows your loud moans while you clench around his fingers, coming beautifully undone and writhing underneath him.

Taeyong lets you ride out the waves, completely captivated by how ethereal you look in that moment. “You’re a goddess,” he breathes, bending down to meet your mouth once again. He pulls back, only to remove your clothing before removing his own.

“Love me, ‘Yongie,” you beg, needing to feel him inside you, just needing him.

“Always.” He moves a hand to cup your cheek while he slowly sinks into your wet slit. No matter how many times he’s with you, he’ll never get over how perfect you are. He bites back a moan when he hits your cervix. A perfect fucking fit, every single time.

He moves with a pace so slow it feels like divine torture. “I’ll never get tired of this,” he groans, pulling out until just his tip is held between your folds, then rolling his hips back inward.

“OH my god,” you moan, your nails digging into his bare back, “You feel so good.”

Taeyong nestles his head into your neck, bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.

“I’m close, baby, so close,” you whine. “Come in me,” you beg, pleading for him to release into you. 

Taeyong hisses, his movements becoming more jerky. “I love you,” he groans as the coil snaps inside you. Waves of pleasure wash over your body, the sparks tingling through your veins. He follows your suit, tensing as your inner walls writhe around his length, milking him of his creamy seed.

He collapses next to you, whispering I love you’s into your ear as you both catch your breath.

“So,” you begin once you finally remember how to speak, “Wanna help me make dinner?”

“In a bit,” he sighs, pulling your limp body on top of his to kiss you lazily, “I’m not done loving you yet.”

→ Taglist: @beomcoups @mar-lo @starsrens (join here)

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©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[mamawasatesttube]

happy wip wednesday have tim being a tinkerer freak ♥

He’s starving, though, enough that he almost worries he’s gonna get another headache just from hunger. That would suck, so after another minute or two of enjoying his blankets and the lack of agony behind his eyes, Kon sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His mouth tastes of old coffee (blech!) and he really has to pee, so he makes a pit stop at the bathroom to wash up.

Walking to the bedroom door, he opens his mouth to greet Tim and—

Balks.

Tim is sitting at the table in the tiny breakfast nook, tools spread out all around him, clearly halfway in the process of either taking apart or reassembling the blender. He has several little piles of screws of various lengths, paneling, and wire components all arranged neatly across the tabletop, humming to himself as he works.

Kon gawks. Tim has massacred the blender. The blender, which Kon would like to note, belongs to the lodge whose cabin they are renting. And is not theirs.

Like a deer in the headlights, Tim freezes the second he realizes he’s been caught. Then he gives Kon a guilty little smile and waves, oh-so-innocently, as if he’s not holding a screwdriver in his little criminal hands.

“Hi!” he chirps, and smiles so sweetly at Kon. “That was a big nap! Are you feeling better?”

Kon stares at him, and then at the dismembered corpse of the poor blender (that is not! theirs!), and then back up at Tim’s face again.

“Rob,” he finally says, gesturing helplessly at the screws and panels and motor. “Why?”

Tim looks guiltily down at the tabletop, as if noticing his toolbox for the first time. “Um… You were asleep for a long time, and I got bored?”

Kon buries his face in his hands.

“I’ll put it back together when I’m done!” Tim protests. “Come on. I built you a motorcycle! You really think I can’t fix a basic blender?”

“I dunno. You might add plasma thrusters to it for no reason in the process, and I dunno if that really counts as ‘fixing’ it.” Kon pauses, alarmed by the sudden gleam in Tim’s eye and the tilt to his head as he surveys his makeshift workbench. “Do not!”

[rangersoup]

Thanks for the tags! @lemonlyman-dotcom @my-beloved-lakes @paperstorm @nisbanisba @heartstringsduet @annoyingcloudearthquake @carlos-in-glasses and @thisbuildinghasfeelings !

Here’s a snippet from my current WIP The Lone Ranger. Chapter 1 can be found here, and chapter 2 can be found here. This is tid bit from chapter 4:

“I missed you,” Jonah mumbles.

“I missed you too,” TK replies and kiss the top of his little head. “Sorry I’ve been gone for so long.”

Jonah leans his head back so he can look up into TK’s face. “When’s Papa Carlos gonna be home?”

TK feels himself slump and tries to hide the wounded expression that begins to work its way across his face.

“Soon,” he lies. He really doesn’t know. He’s starting to show signs of improvement, but it could still be a long time. And no matter how long, it will be too long.

“Why can’t he come home now?” Jonah demands, wiggling like he’s ready to be let down, but TK is ready to let him go just yet.

“He’s…” TK can’t find the words. There’s no doubt in his mind that Jonah has already figured out something is wrong, with both of his parents being away so long with no explanation, how could he not know?

Andrea pins TK down with a look. He needs to tell him.

“Why can’t he come home?” Jonah repeats.

TK sighs and walks over to the couch, where sets Jonah down before sitting down next to him.

“Jonah,” TK starts. The look Jonah gives him is concerned and bewildered. TK takes a deep breath, this going to be harder than he thought. This is the first time since everything happened that he’s had to face Jonah not through a video call facilitated by his dad or Andrea. “Papa Carlos is in the hospital.”

Jonah raises both of his eyebrows in alarm. “Is he sick?!”

TK shakes his head. “He got hurt at work. I’ve been staying with him.”

“Oh,” Jonah says, his mind deep at work behind his brown eyes. “Can I stay with him too?”

“No, buddy,” TK says gently, and brushes the hair out of his brother’s face. Saying no to his little brother is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. He knows Jonah misses Carlos too. “Not right now. He has to rest for a while so he can get better.”

“What if I’m really quiet?” Jonah asks, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I can be very quiet.” He lowers his voice even more. “I’ll be extra careful not to wake him up.”

A weak chuckle makes it out of TK’s throat, and he smiles at Jonah. He smiles a real smile for the first time since Carlos was shot. “As soon as he wakes up, you can come see him, okay?”

Jonah frowns, weighing this in his mind before finally nodding, finding these terms agreeable. “Okay.” Then he fixes TK with a look that is so very serious and stern. No four year old has any business throwing out looks like that. “He’s going to be okay.”

TK doesn’t say anything, but instead pulls Jonah into a tight hug. He holds him until the kid finally decides he has had enough and pulls away, hopping off the couch.

“Do you want to see what me and Aubela made?”

TK smiles after him as he scampers across the loft to his room. “You know I do.”

OPEN TAG! Anyone who wants to can tag me in what they post!

[dreamsteddie]

WIP Thursday??

I'm in a bit of a writing drought, not for lack of inspiration but for lack of time, so I thought I'd share a little snippet from my WIP for day one of @stmarchmm's March Mating Madness. The prompt is "Courting."

Thank you very much to @popmilky for creating the divider I am using

“Hey Buckley,” Eddie says sliding up to the girl where she’s packing up at the bleachers after practice. She gives him a scrutinizing look and clearly finds him lacking, squinting her eyes at him like he’s a little bug landed on her shoulder. Irritating and suspicious. Which, rude. “I was wondering if a fine lady like yourself would happen to know what one Steve Harrington might be hoping for in a courting” Robin clearly wasn’t expecting him to come right out and ask, her blue eyes going wide.

“What the fuck, Munson!” She crows, clearly embarrassed by his lack of tact.

“What!?” He fires back, not understanding what the big deal is. He wants to court Steve and Robin is the best source of information on how to go about it.

“You can’t just ask that, you doofus,” she hisses, lavender scent going smokey like brush fire.

“Why not? I want to court him, like, publicly. Everyone’s gonna know in a couple weeks anyway. Shouldn’t you be glad you’re the first to know?” He huffs. He knows it’s not exactly the done thing to go around telling people you’re going to court someone. You’re supposed to be delicate. Hint at it and build up little courting gifts and don’t look anyone in the eye. It’s dumb as hell and Eddie wants no part of it. Besides, so far as Eddie has seen, that method hasn’t worked on Steve anyway. Eddie may as well go about this in his own way, which includes getting insider information.

Still clearly not impressed, Robin says “You? You want to court Steve? Resident anti-conformist, jock-hating, Eddie Munson wants to court Steve Harrington. Why?” Her tone is clearly disbelieving, which, again, rude.

“Uh, I mean, have you seen him with those kids? He’s wicked hot with that whole mom thing he’s got going on.” At that, Robin gags. “And, I mean, I know he’s a jock but he’s also an Omega and he pretty much said fuck it to Hawkin’s High when he presented and refused to give up his position as captain. That was super fucking metal,” he says all earnest.

“And I like the way he smells, like a fresh cinnamon roll. And we shared an English class once and he asked me about the doodle of a Beholder I worked on instead of taking notes. And I know I’m not exactly a prime Alpha but I don’t think that really matters. At least not to me. I want to kiss him and make sweet love to him and have babies with him and -” Robin cuts him off with a hand over his mouth.

“Ok, I get it. You like him.” She says that, but she’s still looking at him like she can’t figure him out. “Alright…I don’t know if I like you Eddie but I’ll throw you a bone. Just one, got it? And if you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.” She says, waiting for him to nod before removing her hand from his mouth.

Eddie takes a deep, overdramatic breath in like he’s just breached water. “Got it.”

Robin takes a deep breath of her own. “Steve’s been propositioned for courting 12 times since he presented and he’s only said yes to one. One-off dates not included.” She hasn’t stopped looking him straight in the eye, making sure he pays attention. “Nancy gave him a set of handwritten notes for history because she noticed he was struggling. All the other Alphas got him fancy jewelry, useless house stuff, and generic valentine's day crap.” With that, she gives him one last, long look before grabbing her trumpet and leaving, the sound of metal clanging under her feet following in her wake.

“Thanks, Buckey!” He calls out, waving his hand wildly at her retreating back. She ignores him.

Well, no matter.

He’s got a courting to plan.

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @everlastingday @henrygrass @nisbanisba @whatsintheboxmh @alrightbuckaroo @carlossreaders

An idea for a future/Jonah fic merged with Ranch Fic which I believed I've shared a bit of before. It won't leave my head. Here is a snippet from a chapter in which Jonah starts preschool and brings home a gift in the form a stomach bug they all get to take their turn with. Look how happy the little guy is with himself.

Thus this snippet is also me jumping aboard the Carlos Sickfic train whoo Niz you're still the captain and the driver I'm just joining the ride for a bit! Warnings for descriptions of nausea and a mention of throwing up but no more than those exact words.

He kind of wants to check in on Jonah and TK, wants to say goodbye to Jonah before he leaves for half the day but his eyelids are already drooping and the nausea still sits on the edge of his consciousness. He feels like he has a small window of time wherein if he just moves very little and goes to sleep soon he might be able to skip the next bout of nausea.

His wish is granted anyway as the bedroom door opens, Jonah entering first along with TK’s voice reminding him to be gentle, TK himself emerging last.

“He wanted to show you the dragon he chose,” TK says as Jonah climbs carefully up the bed to sit next to Carlos.

“Hey Jonah," Carlos says, fighting to keep his eyes open as he pushes Jonah’s bangs away from his forehead. He’s gonna need a haircut again soon. “Did you choose a good one?”

“Look!” Jonah says, pulling at the hem of his shirt and puffing his chest out, proudly showcasing the pink dragon on the front.

“Wow, mijo, that’s a really good choice,” Carlos says, making Jonah beam up at TK at the confirmation that they chose right.

“Are you gonna wear your pajamas to work, Carlos?” Jonah parrots TK from earlier. He does that a lot these days. Sometimes it makes him say weirdly wise things that sound way too adult coming from his four year old voice which always makes Carlos laugh.

“Carlos gets to stay home and sleep some more, because he’s sick, remember? Just like you stayed home when you were sick.”

“Did you throw up?” Jonah asks, turning to Carlos with wide eyes. He looks a mix between concerned and intrigued.

“Yeah, but just like you I’ll feel better again in no time,” Carlos reassures with a out upon smile. He hopes he's right.

“Do you want an ice pop?” Jonah asks, remembering that had made him feel better.

“Maybe later,” Carlos smiles at him. “But that was a nice thought, mijo. Thank you.”

Jonah looks like he’s thinking hard trying to come up with something else that will magically heal Carlos. He’s so sweet and caring, just like his brother. TK interrupts him before he can suggest any more remedies, heartwarming as they are.

“Okay, buddy,” TK says. “Time for breakfast I think, so we can get to preschool on time.”

“Can we make omelets?” Jonah asks, sufficiently distracted. Carlos usually lets him ‘help’ when he makes omelets in the morning and Jonah loves being delegated with small but very important tasks.

TK chuckles. “Sure. I don’t know if I can make them as good as Carlos though,” he says. “You’ll have to ask him for the secret ingredient.”

“What’s the secret ingredient Carlos?” 

Another time Carlos will tell Jonah how to make his favorite omelet, but right now Carlos can’t bear the thought of pronouncing the word of any food related item. “Love,” he says instead, ruffling Jonah’s hair, trying not to show that even the act of lifting his arm feels like a tremendous effort. Jonah frowns for a moment before he giggles like Carlos just said a super silly thing.

“Love? You can’t put love in an omelet Carlos!”

“Sure you can,” Carlos says. “You just have to make the omelet for someone you love and that’s how you put love into it.” He doesn’t know where the spontaneous pocket philosophy comes from and he hopes he hasn’t made a mistake in case the omelet TK and Jonah whip up for some reason isn’t to Jonah’s liking.

Kids don’t think that deep, he tells himself. Jonah will probably have forgotten about it in the time it takes them to go from the bedroom to the kitchen. And besides he fully trusts TK’s abilities when it comes to cooking. 

His jumbled overthinking is interrupted by Jonah making his heart grow two sizes and do a little dance in his chest. “Then we have to make some for Carlos too TK! So we can put love in it!”

Unfortunately his stomach seems inspired by his heart to start matching its little dance routine. Thinking anymore about omelets, let alone one being made for him that he has to eat, isn’t helping. He feels his little window of time starting to close as the nausea begins tauntingly closing back in on him. Luckily TK seems to read it on his face. Or maybe he’s just turning visibly green.

“We’ll make some for him to save for later,” he says. Planting a soft kiss to Carlos forehead he tells him “You should try to finish that glass of water though, if you can. I’ll bring you a new one before we leave.”

Turning back to Jonah he says more loudly, "Now, can you say bye to Carlos so we can let him sleep?” to Carlos he says softly “You look ready to, baby.” 

Carlos only hums in response.

Jonah rises up from his knees on the bed, putting him at eye level with Carlos as he wraps his little arms around his neck. “Bye, Carlos. Feel better,” he says before turning back to TK, putting his arms in the air to be lifted off the bed.

Carlos musters his last energy for a sincere “Bye Jonah. I love you,” But Jonah has apparently already moved on, or rather back to discussing what to put into the omelet, beside love.

“And ham,” he says as TK lifts him under the armpits and sets him back on the floor.

“And cheese!” he says, “And eggs and pepper and-” 

“Okay buddy,” TK interrupts quickly, sending Carlos an apologetic wince before quickly ushering Jonah out of the bedroom, as he keeps listing ingredients. 

Once the door is closed behind them, Carlos takes a few steadying breaths, the nausea thankfully retreating back to the peripherals. Having learned to listen to TK when it comes to medical advice, he sips the water until the glass is almost empty before he gingerly lays down, foregoing his own freshly clean pillowcase in favor of TK’s, and pulling their shared blanket up and over his body. He shifts a little to make himself as comfortable as he can and then closes his eyes.

He doesn’t hear when TK creeps in half an hour later to replace the near empty glass of water, or the front door opening and closing as they leave to drop Jonah off at preschool.

OPEN TAG

And tagging @herefortarlos @emsprovisions @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @ironheartwriter

@bonheur-cafe @ladytessa74 @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @lemonlyman-dotcom

@rangersoup @theghostofashton @everlastingday @henrygrass

@freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21 @carlossreaders @chicgeekgirl89

@the-126-family @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @whatsintheboxmh @tailoredshirt

@nisbanisba @nancys-braids @your-catfish-friend @rmd-writes @goldenskykaysani

@captain-gillian @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye

@carlos-tk @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @pimento-playing-hopscotch @firstprince-history-huh @thisbuildinghasfeelings

@never-blooms @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland

I finally made a taglist so lmk if you want to be removed from it or added to it!:)

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 1

What's this? Two posts for WIP Wednesday??? I said I was gonna spoil you guys. Now, I originally planned to do Carry Your Heart. Figured the top and bottom choices from the WIP Wednesday poll would be fun. But both stories are at a point where Danny is taking Jason to Frostbite and I just didn't feel like writing the same scenario twice, even if the details and POV are totally different.

So I went to the third place option.

If you want a say in what I work on this week, check out the poll!

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3 (user locked), Tumblr

Word Count: 1.5k

-----

Jazz tapped her finger on her phone as she waited for the Dunkin employee to call out her order. Red Hood was supposed to arrive any minute. She’d left her dorm a full two hours ago and led Agents K and O on a merry chase through Boston before finally losing them at Quincy Market. Then she’d doubled back and was now near Northeastern. She had no reason to be here, so hopefully it’d take a little longer to track her down.

And that’s when she felt it—a ghost or liminal was nearby.

Pushing his way in the building was a tall man with a red beanie covering dark hair. He had on an unbuttoned flannel jacket over a Dumpty Humpty T-shirt and jeans with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He glanced around before his eyes settled on her and he grinned.

“Hey, Jazz, right?” He held out his hand. “I’m Todd.”

Jazz couldn’t say anything and just stared in horror. Red Hood couldn’t be liminal. Had she just led another liminal to the guys in white? Did he even realize he was considered an ecto-entity under the anti-ecto acts she’d introduced him and Red Robin to?

“Jazz? Are you okay?” he asked, dropping his hand.

“Order for Jazz!” called out the barista.

Jazz shook herself and grabbed her drink with a smile for the employee. Then she grabbed Todd’s elbow and dragged him over to the tables.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting—” she cut herself off. She had no idea what he knew and what he didn’t. And the agents could come get them at any moment. Instead she pulled out her phone started turning off every security setting. “Never mind. Do you want anything?” she asked with a gesture at her own drink.

“I’m all right. But, are you? What happened?”

Jazz let out a laugh; if the way Todd’s eyes widened was any indication, it was a tad more hysterical that she would’ve liked. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened.” She looked down at his shirt. “My brother loves Dumpty Humpty, you a music fan?”

He seemed nonplussed at the topic change but shrugged. “Sure. Music is good, but I stole this shirt from one of my brothers. I don’t know if I could name a single song by them. How about you?”

Jazz grinned and forced herself to relax as she logged out of her school email on her phone. “I’m a huge fan of any sort of self-expression, including music. Actually, my plans for tonight involve music, so I hope you like the indie scene. Might be a bit intense for a first date, but I’ve always figured, why not jump right in? Show ‘em the crazy from the start and see if they can keep up.” She leaned forward over the table and winked at him. “Think you’ll be able to keep up?”

Todd played the game perfectly and looked her up and down like they really were about to start a first date. “With you, sweetheart, I’ll follow anywhere you lead.”

Jazz laughed and stood. “Come on, then. We’re going on an adventure.”

Todd grinned and joined her. “Lead the way.”

Once out of the building, Jazz led them away from the university. This being Boston, it wasn’t long before they came across a homeless man begging on the side of the street.

Wincing internally, she gripped Todd’s arm and said loudly, “Honestly, I don’t know why the cops don’t do a better job of keeping away the beggars.”

Todd looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about? They have a right to exist and we should help them.”

“They’re probably fine. Everyone knows they only use the money they’re given on drugs and alcohol.” She pretended to glance at her phone before reaching back to shove it in her back pocket. Only to miss so it fell to the ground. “Ew, he’s looking at us. Come on, let’s cross the street.”

She could feel the way Todd tensed at her words, but he let himself be led across the street.

As soon as they were out of hearing shot, he turned to her and hissed, “What the hell was that?”

Jazz glanced back and saw the man picking up her phone. She looked away before he could catch her looking. “Come on, I’ll explain.” She grabbed Todd’s hand and led him down an alley to a much busier street. “I had to ditch my phone. I logged out of everything and left it unlocked so he can use it or resell it. I needed to make sure he wouldn’t try to return it to me and, well, what better way than being the worst person you can imagine?”

And now he was staring, open mouthed.

“They’ve had remote access to my phone for months and I couldn’t let them track us!” she insisted. Habit had her looking around for any sign of a white suit.

“Who can’t find us?”

Jazz shook her head. “The guys in white. Look, this is too public. I can’t say much else here. But meeting you, everything had to change. You’re in danger just by being near me and I refuse to be the reason you get hurt.”

“Why am I in danger?”

“Later!” Jazz hissed before wincing and looking around. She forced a smile back on her face and asked, in as normal a tone as she could manage, “What time is it? Do you know?”

He looked down at his phone. “Uh, looks like it’s almost five.”

“Oh great! Plenty of time for us to get something to eat before I bring you to our surprise destination.”

And from there, Jazz led Todd on a convoluted tour of Boston. They grabbed food at the Pru, then she took him to the green line. Where they traveled four stops before she jumped up in feigned surprise that they were on the wrong branch. So then they got off and hopped on the train going in the opposite direction.

Which was where she wanted to be going all along.

For once, she was happy the orange line was still under construction, because the shuffle of passengers from trains to buses and back just made their journey that much more complicated and harder to follow.

By the time they finally got to their stop, the sun had mostly set. The station was mostly empty and Jazz looked around for any sign of white suits or vans, but even when she didn't see any, she couldn't relax.

“Where are we going?” Todd asked for probably the dozenth time.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “We’ll be there in five minutes and then you’ll find out.”

She led him to the street, the crosswalk had lights over it, but the rest of the road was shrouded in darkness. They ran across without waiting for the walk symbol.

Once they crossed what was basically a divided highway, Jazz led them along the poorly lit and cracked sidewalk. Ahead of them they were approaching a river.

“It’s before the river,” muttered Jazz to herself. “Is this it?” She hesitated at the top of a sloping, unpaved drive that led to an industrial building that sat on the waterfront. “I think so. Apparently this building used to be a coffin factory. Cool, huh?”

“I don’t care for coffins,” was Todd’s terse reply.

Jazz flinched slightly. She knew he was death-adjacent. Should’ve known better than to mention coffins. “Right, sorry. Well, they aren’t made here anymore.” She made her way down the steep drive, Todd a step behind her.

“What is it now?”

“Apartments, I believe.”

Once at the bottom, she looked around and saw the old loading dock. Entering, she looked for the door on the left.

Only to hesitate once more. Two doors were on the left. She hadn’t heard anything about there being two doors. Taking a chance, she opened the first one.

Inside was a table where two women sat in front of a metal box. On the wall were a set of pegs already mostly filled with coats. And inside milled probably thirty or forty people.

The women smiled at Jazz. “Hi, have you two been here before?”

Jazz shook her head and pulled two twenties out of her wallet. “No. But I had a classmate come here and tell me about it. When I realized you had something going on tonight when I had a date? Figured it was a great place to come with my partner!”

She laughed. “We’re definitely unique here at the Night Cap.” She stamped their hands. “Show starts in half an hour, but feel free to mingle until then. Bathroom’s through the kitchen.”

“Thanks! We’re looking forward to tonight.”

Todd nodded his own thanks and followed Jazz into the room.

“What are we doing here?” he whispered in her ear.

“Hiding,” she whispered back. “I’ve never been here before. Never even taken this stop on the T before. When we leave here, we’ll get a motel room or something and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Is this necessary?”

“Without a doubt.”

Jazz could tell Todd didn’t fully believe her, but he dropped it. Jazz found a few people who were discussing that evening’s performers and the two of them joined the conversation.

-----

Part 2

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

So, I had a lot of fun with this section. The place Jazz takes Jason to? Real place. Though Night Cap isn't what the residents call it. Honestly, the real name is also impossible to google. If you don't know it exists, you would never find it (why Jazz runs from the GIW there). Out of respect for the residents of the apartment, though, I changed the name. I went to a show there and it was super weird trying to find it. Like, the directions in my email seriously said "enter the loading dock of the former coffin factory, find the door on the left, and slip the person standing there $10-20 cash. Don't touch anyone's personal belongings, please."

As we waited for the bathroom during set break, two of the residents were cooking dinner at the stove and we were chatting about how Regan was the worst.

10/10 would go again.

Anyone who has spent any time in Boston knows what I mean about the T being under construction. Annoying as hell, but it worked out for Jazz this time.

(The T is the name of the Boston train/subway system.)

The Pru refers to the Prudential building. The bottom level(s) are full of restaurants and shops (basically a high end shopping mall) and upper levels are offices. The top level is an observation deck that's open to the public, though I've never been.

[ladykailitha]

Across a Crowded Room

*grumbles* I can't believe this IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CUTE AND SHORT! Not only has it gotten a little angsty in middle there, it's about to breach 10k words. And I'm not even CLOSE to the ending.

The fuuuucckkkkk.

I was meant to be working on other things. Like editing a story to be beta'ed so I can put it on AO3 for you all, extending Batshit soulmates because I was skipping over too much, and wrapping up Glitters.

Guess who did none of those things because this story consumed my soul?

ME!!!

I will be posting this on Saturday as it's not one of my regular WIPs.

Enjoy. *sniffs* I guess.

Summary: Modern, no monsters AU. After they all graduated from high school the older teens drifted to other parts of the country. And while Steve and Eddie have made short trips to see each other, usually with the whole, they really haven't spent much time in the same room in years.

That all changes when Eddie is able to spend a week in Chicago with Steve and Robin.

But when Eddie sees Steve for the first time in years, he gets scared. Will have the courage to walk across that crowded room to be with Steve?

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Eddie hadn’t seen Steve in years. After high school when they became friends through mutual parenting of six absolutely terrifyingly smart teenagers, they kinda went their separate ways.

Steve and Robin had gone to Chicago for college and Eddie and his band had gone further west to LA to try and make it as metal artists.

This is was the first time in a really long time that their schedules lined up. They talked all the time. Friends on all their social media. But they hadn’t seen each other since they said goodbye in Steve’s driveway four years ago.

Eddie was standing at the bar entrance where he was supposed to be meeting Steve, just staring at him.

God, he had been gorgeous in high school. Because of course he was. Captain of the basketball team, co-captain of the swim team, and the baseball team’s best hitter.

But he looked even more so now.

His honey colored, wind tussled hair had grown out a bit. A lock of hair flopped devastatingly in front of one of his hazel eyes. He had filled out some, once thin and wiry, now deep chested and toned. Even in the winterscape hell that was Chicago, Steve’s skin was warmly tanned.

He was laughing with a group of people and never had Eddie felt more out of place in his life, and that was saying something. He had been dropped off at his Uncle Wayne’s when he was twelve. Been nicknamed the “Freak”. And had always been flamboyantly himself: a big, gay, metal loving geek.

Eddie was about to turn around and go back the way he came when a familiar voice called his name.

He turned around and there was Robin Buckley. Steve’s platonic soulmate and best friend.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Did you just get here?” she asked brightly.

Eddie nodded. “My flight was delayed three times. I haven’t even been to my hotel yet.”

Robin winced. “That sucks.” She looked at him more closely and he gulped. “You weren’t thinking of cutting and running were you?”

“Me?” Eddie said, dramatically clutching his hands to his chest. “I would ne–”

She raised an eyebrow at him, effectively shutting him up.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Eddie said mournfully, “until I got here. He just looks so happy. He doesn’t need someone like me coming back into his life like a wrecking ball.” He pulled out his phone and waved it at her. “Once I can get this charged, I’ll message him and tell him my flight got canceled and that’ll we’ll reschedule.”

She looked at his phone and then back up at him. “What happened to your phone?”

“My charging cable port snapped,” he grumbled. “And it died after the first delay.”

Again she winced in sympathy.

“You’re in love with him,” she said, “aren’t you?”

Eddie sighed and looked back over at Steve. One of his friends must have told a joke because Steve was laughing so hard his eyes were mere slits. He looked back at her and he sighed.

“The sky is blue, Midwestern winters suck,” he muttered, “and I’m in love with Steve Harrington.”

Robin rolled her eyes, then she got this calculating grin on her face.

“Uh oh.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said slyly, “you let me do a little experiment with a small wager. If I win, you man up and tell him how you feel. If you win, you can tell him that your trip has been cut short and you have to go back in a couple of days and blow out his life again.”

Eddie pursed his lips and looked at back at Steve.

“What’s the experiment?” he asked.

Robin jumped up and down with glee. “I’m going to text Steve that I found you. You aren’t going to take your eyes off him the whole time. Then when I’m done, I’ll show the conversation.”

He licked his lips. “And what’s the wager?”

“You think he’s happier without you,” she said. “If that’s true, he’s not going to show a lot of excitement. He’ll be relieved and happy that you’re here, but no real enthusiasm. Right?”

Eddie just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I know he’s going to flip out,” she continued with that sly grin. “He’s going to be jumping up and down and looking around for you, trying to find you in the crowd.”

“What if it’s somewhere in the middle?” Eddie asked honestly.

Robin cocked her head to the side. “Then you stay the full week and suss him out.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “All right. You’re on.”

“Good!” she said. She grabbed him by the arms and moved him a little. “There. Now he won’t be able to spot you immediately.”

He had let himself be manhandled because he had long since learned that Robin could and would kick if he didn’t do what she wanted.

“Now, keep your eyes on Steve.”

Eddie scoffed. “Easiest thing in the world.”

Robin snorted and got out her phone.

He really wanted to look over her shoulder to see what she was typing because he was eaten up with curiosity about what she was sending Steve. But he did as he was told. He kept his eyes on the most beautiful boy in the world.

Steve pulled out his phone and then his head snapped up. He looked around excitedly. He started flapping his hands and talking animatedly with his friends. Eddie watched as he smoothed down his hair and wiped his hands on his jeans. He pulled out a breath mint out of his pocket and ducked his head when his friends obliviously teased him for it.

He looked over at Robin in shock.

“What the hell did you tell him?”

She turned her phone around and he read their conversation.

-Guess who I found by the door looking like a lost puppy?

-He’s here?

-Eddie’s here?

-Where?

-Why didn’t he text me? :(

-lol

-Calm down, I’ll bring him to you.

-The idiot’s phone died and his charger broke.

-I can’t be calm, how can I be calm? He’s here! He’s finally here.

“Oh.”

The little frownie face at the end of the “Why didn’t he text me?” message did Eddie’s heart in.

He cleared his throat. “Um...if I were to, say, I don’t know, go over there and kiss his lights out, would I get hate crimed?”

Robin laughed. “No. And there is no one in his friends that would be nasty about it either.”

Eddie nodded. “Lead the way.” He bowed and waved his hand dramatically so that she would go first.

“Nerd.”

Eddie cackled as he followed her to the table. Steve was on his feet the instant he saw him.

Eddie was a weak man. That had been pretty well established tonight. So he thought he could be excused when he picked Steve up by the waist and swung him around.

“Eddie!” Steve giggled.

Robin scoffed. “Gays are so disgusting.”

“Says the lesbian,” Steve said when Eddie had put him down.

“Lesbians are a different flavor of gay and thereby aren’t disgusting,” she said with a half shrug like it was a truth universally acknowledged or some shit.

He shook his head and turned back to Eddie, who had yet to let go of his waist. “I missed you, too, Eds.”

“I missed you so much, Stevie,” Eddie whispered back.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” he breathed and lifted Steve’s chin. He pressed their lips together and suddenly Steve’s crowd of friends erupted into cheers.

Steve broke the kiss and stared up at Eddie in awe.

“Wow.”

Eddie giggled. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, more than a little breathless. “You’re stuck now. That’s how I want you to greet me every time now.”

Eddie’s face split with a large grin. “You got it, baby.”

Robin cleared her throat. “May I remind you two that we are in fact in public?”

Eddie and Steve looked over at her and then back at each other. Robin isn’t sure who started it, but soon they both were laughing like children.

Steve introduced him to the small group of friends.

There was a sofa near the table Steve’s friends were sitting at so Eddie sat down there, so Steve could cuddle up on his side.

“How long are you in town for?” A punky Asian girl with pink and purple streaks in her short cropped hair asked. Steve had introduced her as Maria Nguyen. They had a couple of classes with each other.

Steve looked at Eddie as if he had been wondering the same thing.

Eddie chuckled. “That’s the surprise I was telling you about, darlin’. Me and the boys got a record deal and their headquarters and studio is right here in Chicago. So I will be moving to the fair Windy city.”

“You’re staying?” Steve asked, his voice rising with excitement.

“I’m in town for about a week to look for apartments and shit,” Eddie amended. “Then I will move here at the end of the month.”

“Holy shit!” Robin said, glaring daggers at him.

Steve picked up on the latent hostility, but Eddie shook his head and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” He pressed a kiss to Steve hair.

“You have a band?” a large young man with freckles and braces asked. He had red hair and wire rimmed glasses. Steve said his was Jason, Justin...Jarren! That was it.

“Sure do!” Eddie said. “Corroded Coffin. Me and my three closest friends, besides Buck and Stevie here, have been out in LA playing our hearts out.”

“Buck?” Maria asked, rearing her head back.

“Buckley!” Eddie explained.

“So what kind of music do you play?” Jarren asked, leaning forward, very interested.

“Metal.”

Maria snorted. “Like that’s Steve’s least favorite kind of music.”

Steve sat up. “It is not! There are all sorts of music I don’t like. Metal can be good. It’s just the screamo shit I can’t stand. Corroded Coffin isn’t like that.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Hell, Steve would put pop music below metal and you know how much he loves Tears for Fears.”

Eddie groaned. “I still can’t believe of all the 80s bands out there to be your favorite you pick Tears for Fears!”

“What? They’re great.”

“Stevie, darlin’, love of my life,” Eddie said sweetly. “You cannot honestly tell me that their version of ‘Mad World’ is better than Gary Jules.”

“Wait?” Jarren said. “They did a cover of ‘Mad World’?”

Steve shook his head. “They sang it originally. Here let me show you.”

He pulled out his phone and handed it over. Robin, Maria, and Jarren huddled around the phone as they watched the video for it.

“That was trippy as hell,” Maria said, handing the phone back to Steve.

“I know, right?” Eddie said.

Steve rolled his eyes. “He does have a point regarding this one song. The original version is too fast for what the song is about.”

Eddie cackled with glee.

“I still maintain that Shout, Head Over Heels, and Everybody Wants to Rule the World are absolute bangers,” Steve huffed.

Eddie kissed his cheek and Steve blushed.

“Wait!” Jarren said, “Do my eyes deceive me or is Steve Harrington, the man, the myth, the legend, blushing?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not that again. I don’t believe it was ever a thing.”

Eddie sat up on the sofa, too and looked Steve in the eye. “What’s this, babe?”

“Stevie here made a girl come just by talking to her,” Robin said with a grin.

Eddie licked his lips slowly and Steve blushed deeper. “Did you now?”

“No!” Steve insisted. “That was just the excuse she used for running away after I badly flirted with her.”

Maria scoffed. “Dude, I was there, you did not flirt badly.”

Eddie pulled Steve close to his side and murmured in his ear. “I fully expect the full Harrington Charm experience, sweetheart.” His voice dropped really low. “Because I bet you could make me come just from the sound of your voice.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and he ducked his head.

Maria shook her head. “I can’t believe that King Steve got out rizzed by this swagless loser. How in the hell?”

“Maria!” Jarren hissed. “He does not look like a swagless loser. You take that back. He’s cool.”

Eddie turned to Steve. “Looks like you’re going to have to be the tie-breaker, sweetheart.”

“How’s that?” Steve asked. “Robin hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Ah, but that’s because I think I’m cool,” Eddie said holding up one finger, “and I know that Robin would vote for swagless loser.”

Robin snorted. “Damn right I would.”

“So it’s girls verses guys,” Steve said thoughtfully.

Jarren snorted. “More like lesbians verses the gays.”

Steve cocked his head to the side and then nodded.

“I dub thee my really cool metalhead geek!” Steve said solemnly.

Everyone’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Babe...” Robin said. “Did you just go down the middle of the road to avoid an argument?”

Steve batted his eyelashes at her. “Maybe...”

Eddie huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, pouting. Steve leaned forward and kissed the bottom of his jaw.

“How about my very cool, gorgeous, metalhead boyfriend?” he murmured softly.

Eddie looked down at him eyes wide. “Holy shit, you mean that?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie swiftly brought their mouths together and kissed Steve deeply. “That is acceptable.”

Steve giggled.

The night past in good company and drinks.

Eddie had duck out early because he still had to check into his hotel, but he kissed Steve goodbye and left with a spring in his step.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Also, also. I forgot to mention that the title comes from a song by Counting Crows called Long December. So in my head I was singing, It's been so long since you came to (Indiana) I think you should!

Never mind they're in Illinois and the actual lyric is California.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

[luna-the-bard]

Uhhhh so I’ve been. Drawing a lot lately.

I think last time I posted was like over two weeks ago? So yeah there’s a bit of a backlog.

I’m honestly not sure what else to say as an intro so I’m just gonna. Dump a bunch of art here real quick and if it doesn’t all fit then maybe I’ll make two posts or something. There WILL be rambling. Anyways-

I spent like 6 hrs last night studying one of my Boothill screenshots because I’ve been meaning to learn how to draw him.

Little did I know I was gonna go back to it today again to fix his legs. I can’t believe that asshole took 6+ hours of my life how dare he (I want to draw him again)

I took a break from drawing him somewhere in the middle there only to draw him in my sketchbook instead lol. don’t look at that gun it’s not there shh.

There’s also a new oc I’ve been working on. (Don’t mind the ref screenshot in the bg this is a wip lol)

Playing around with the idea of a princess who slays her own dragon, so when the rescuers come, their job is already done (it’s okay, they can be her getaway drivers instead). Named her Lady Eithel, although her full name and title is “Princess Eithelmira of the House of Thorns”, since she is part of her planet’s/kingdom’s royal family.

Im also putting her on the path of Beauty, because it makes more sense for her than any currently playable paths in hsr, and we know that even after the fall of an Aeon, their paths can linger (as seen with Trailblaze, Order, etc). Also, it not being a playable path means I can do whatever I want with it, and boy am I gonna have my fun >:) She’s gonna be finding Beauty in all kinds of things, folks. I’m gonna throw her around the universe into all kinds of situations (probably).

Eithel’s home planet, Struna-5, are worshippers of Idrila, and it’s said their the planet’s moon was a blessing from THEM. Struna-5 is divided into several major kingdoms, like Pelionore (that Eithel hails from) and their neighbor, Aurora. My vision for the planet overall is a combination of scifi and fantasy/medieval aesthetics. (Not unlike what Nimona did with their worldbuilding, you should go check out the art book for that film, it’s online for free)

Eithel’s been incredibly challenging for me to draw, despite having the same old traits I usually tend to give my ocs. But there’s a certain vibe I’m going for with her and it’s been hard to capture, I suppose.

Some more art of her:

She is 5’2 so if you’re over 6ft tall this is probably what you see any time she talks to you x)

I also really like the sketch I had for that wip from above.

There’s also a few earlier studies of her, including the first time I managed to capture her face/feel right:

I’ve been studying MsLeeSketchbook ‘s (on twitter) art a lot for her, I really enjoy how they paint.

I think I’m getting to the image per post limit, so have this alt lighting mockup from the wip:

I’ll put the smut and other stuff in a separate post, ig.

[pulisicsgirl]

breathe, you're okay - mason mount

summary: when the mounting pressure of a Women's UCL run is falling on Y/N's shoulders, she isn't handling it by herself as well as she would like everyone to believe she is

pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, no established relationship, !!descriptions of a panic attack!!, discussions about mental heath, supportive Mase

requested: no

notes: surprise!! I'm sorry I haven't posted in months-- my life kind of went up in flames over the summer and I haven't had the time to write that I was hoping to. I have a few WIPs in my drafts, and I am still working on all of your requests! Please let me know what you think of this!

The hot afternoon sun beat down on you, and you felt the drops of sweat sliding down the side of your head and tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you ran up and down the field, weaving between cones, carrying the ball at your feet, running through a series of consecutive drills that were designed to refine your skills and test your endurance.

You did your best to recall the instructions that your coach had carefully laid out before the team began the drill, but with the heat and the fatigue that was seeping all the way into your bones, it seemed impossible to remember. You wound up relying on the teammate in front of you to recall what you needed to do next.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the sound of the whistle—two short chirps, signaling for you to halt your movements. You draped your arms over your head, drawing in deep, heaving breaths as you attempted to get your heart rate under control.

You joined the rest of your teammates as they gathered around the coach, preparing for his parting words before everyone was dismissed.

“Good session today, ladies,” he clapped his hands in front of him, looking around the circle. “I’m seeing a lot of good things. A lot of improvement in our touches and finishing. You all are looking really good.”

A couple of the girls clapped at his words, the rest too exhausted to do anything but listen.

“We have the day off tomorrow, so use it well. Rest, recover, and come back Monday ready to go. We’ve got some heavy prep next week before the second leg on Friday,” he continued, and a couple others whooped, getting excited for the upcoming big game.

“They’re gonna be a really tough opponent, I’ll be honest. We know that their back line is really strong, tough to break through.” Your coach’s eyes fell on you, and you knew what was coming next before he even began to speak, your stomach sinking slightly. “But that’s what we have Miss Y/N, for, right?”

Several of the girls cheered for you. The girls near you slapped you on the back, trying to get you hyped up. And the weight that had settled in the pit of your stomach grew heavier.

The Manchester United women were on an impressive UEFA Women’s Champions League run, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds to make it to the semifinal. And according to the media (and now your own teammates and coaches), it was all thanks to you.

In the group stage, a decisive game in which your team had gone down 2-0 in the first half had seemed hopeless until you had scored two goals in the second, assisting on the third to put your team through to the knockout games. Another three goal contributions in the quarter-final matches had put you in the spotlight of all of the team’s media coverage, thrusting a wave of attention upon you that you had never asked for.

You had gone down 1-0 in the first leg of the semi-final, and now you were playing from behind. And it seemed that everyone expected you to be the one to pull them out of it.

So now, you were left feeling the pressure as the second leg was fast approaching.

“Alright, ladies. Have a good rest of the day and a great day off tomorrow.” He clapped his hands, dismissing you all. The circle of girls dispersed, chatting among themselves.

“Am I still leaving the cones out for you?” the coach raising his eyebrows at you. You only nodded in return. “Okay, don’t work yourself to death.”

You laughed humorlessly as you fiddled with the ball at your feet, not meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder to try to draw your attention to him. “Get some rest tomorrow, okay? We all see how hard you’re working. Give yourself a break.”

Another nod is all that you can muster, and you don’t miss the short sigh that he lets out as he drops his hand from your shoulder and walks to join the rest of the group moving indoors.

You repositioned a few of the cones to set up your own drill and got right into it.

Across the field, on another training pitch near yours, Mason watched as you carried the ball with you up and down the field, weaving between cones, practicing a few skills that he had seen you implement in games, and taking a shot on the goal at each pass.

He was supposed to be doing a bit of extra work with a few of the boys. The men’s team had finished their training session about an hour before, but a few of them still felt like they wanted to get a bit more done before calling it a day. So here they were, running a few small three-a-side games to utilize the last of their energy that day.

But he couldn’t help but notice how you never stopped.

During the team training, you were always one of the hardest-working ones out there. When he had returned to the pitch from lunch, you were taking shots on the goal with the rest of your team nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even sure he had seen you eating lunch inside when he thought about it.

And now here you were, sprinting across the length of the field, over and over, after the rest of your team had hit the showers.

He felt a twinge of worry for you but brushed it off as one of his teammates called his name to pull his attention back to the game they were playing.

Your head was spinning as you pushed yourself to keep moving. Your entire body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle ached from overexertion as you gritted your teeth, forcing them to keep moving. The sun was dizzyingly bright as the evening set in. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of your skin. Your lungs were burning with your heaving breaths and your mouth quickly grew dry.

“That’s what we have Miss Y/N for, right?” Your coach’s words echoed through your head as you carried the ball down the field.

“Y/L/N carries the Man U Women through to the semifinal!” You recalled the title of the article as you weaved between the cones.

“I really believe Y/N Y/L/N could be the one to lead Manchester United to their first Women’s Champion’s League trophy!” You heard the words of the pundit clear as day as you planted your foot, striking the ball cleanly. It soared through the air, curving toward the goal, and struck the crossbar. The ball flew away from the goal, bouncing pathetically on the ground in the penalty area.

You took a pause, the words and expectations crashing around your mind leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest. As you stood there, you couldn’t seem to get your panting breaths to grow steadier.

Your shirt suddenly felt too tight on your neck. You grasped the fabric, pulling it away from your body in an attempt to allow yourself to breathe easier, but nothing seemed to be helping.

Your head was spinning. You felt your stomach sink, a feeling like when you plummeted down the tall hill of a rollercoaster, a sick feeling settling in your abdomen. Your skin began to crawl, and you just couldn’t stop hyperventilating.

You began to panic. Eyes searching frantically for relief. You weren’t sure what you were looking for—something, anything.

You suddenly felt like you were too out in the open, needing to seclude yourself away from the sight of prying eyes. You set into a sprint, off of the field and around the corner of the nearest part of the building to you, trying to find some shade from the hot sun and hide yourself from anyone who might see your pathetic state.

But it was too late. Mason had seen the whole thing.

They had just paused their game for a short water break. He had seen you take the shot, instead hitting the crossbar. It only took him a few seconds once you paused to realize that something wasn’t right.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell rapidly in quick, short breaths. When you began attempting to pull your shirt away from your body, he instantly knew what was taking place. He’d recognize that feeling anywhere.

You were having a panic attack, whether you realized it or not.

As soon as he saw you take off for the side of the building, he was running after you without so much as a word of explanation to his teammates.

Once in the shade of the wall you hid behind, you began pacing, unable to keep still. Every inch of your body felt jittery, and you felt unsteady on your legs. You couldn’t manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. Your throat felt tight, your breaths sounding more like wheezes, and it was starting to make your head spin. Your hands flew to your head, scratching at your scalp in an attempt to somehow rid yourself of the feeling.

You were startled by Mason swiftly rounding the corner, concern written all over his face as he stopped in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he spoke calmly and evenly. He quickly reached up, taking your wrists in his hands so he could gently but firmly pull your hands out of your hair to keep you from hurting yourself.

“I can’t, Mason. I can’t,” you panted, shaking your head ‘no’ frantically and still trying to weakly pull your hand from his grip.

“You’re okay, Y/N. Try to slow down your breathing,” Mason’s calm voice directly contrasted your frantic behavior, speaking in short sentences so as to not overwhelm you more. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

A short sob fell from your lips, and you felt the tears spilling over and down your cheeks.

“We’re gonna lose,” you sobbed, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “The semifinal, we’re gonna lose it, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”

In that moment, everything clicked into place for Mason-- the UWCL run, your success in the games leading up to the semi-final leg, the pressure from the fans and the team, the countless extra hours you had been putting in.

A loud noise in the distance, coming from the direction of the parking lot, startled you, snatching your attention and you whipped your head to the side, eyes searching frantically for the source. He released your wrists from his hand, testing the waters as he turned your head back to look at him with a hand on your cheek.

He cradled your face with a hand on either side, keeping your focus on him. His thumbs wiped the tears away that had slipped down your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” he repeated the affirmations he had already been telling you.

As he stroked his thumbs softly over the skin of your cheek, he felt that your breathing was already growing a bit slower. You had reached up, holding onto his wrists with both of your hands to steady yourself, feeling too unsteady on your feet. His hands were gentle and soft on your skin.

Mason watched your expression, taking long deep breaths for you to emulate. Your eyes were still wide, darting frantically around his face, but you were trying your best to follow his breathing. He continued whispering short reassurances.

“You’re safe.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you.”

You were beginning to calm down, but your eyes darted to something behind Mason, pulled away from the calm atmosphere he had tried to create for you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he spoke gently, pressing his forehead to yours so you would only focus on him. You were shocked at how little the intrusion on your personal space bothered you. In fact, to your surprise, the closeness seemed to settle you a little more.

You continued focusing on your breathing, gripping tightly to his wrists as if you thought he’d disappear if you let go. Your eyes were clamped closed, listening to Mason’s soft and slow breathing. You felt your pounding heart being to slow its pace.

The panic you had been feeling subsided, leaving behind a wave of extreme fatigue. You felt completely and utterly drained.

Mason must have noticed the way that your body slumped over, and he guided you to sit down on the grass, leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He sat down next to you, leaving space so he didn’t make you more nervous. But in the haze you felt in your mind, you felt a need to still be close to him, leaning over so you could place your head on his shoulder. A short pang of guilt washed over you as you noticed the crescent-shaped indents you had left on his wrists, your nails digging into the skin as you had held onto him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your eyes slipping closed as you continued focusing on breathing slowly. A gentle breeze blew through, cooling your clammy skin and brushing through the blades of grass.

“I used to get them sometimes, too, you know?” Mason broke the silence, speaking softly.

You responded with a quiet, “hmm?” unsure of what he meant.

“Panic attacks,” he explained. “At the end of last season, before I left Chelsea. There was a lot of pressure. Any time I played, everyone had something to say about it. Even when I didn’t play, some would find a reason to be upset. It all just got to be too much.”

A deep sadness filled you while you listened to his words. “How did you get through it?”

“Ben found me having one in my car after training one day.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to power through it—like you. Skipping lunch and staying late to train a bit extra on the field or put in an extra session in the gym. But once Ben realized what was going on, he made sure that I was taking care of myself properly and wasn’t dealing with it on my own anymore.”

You sat up so you could look at Mason’s face, and you saw a hint of sadness there. “So I’ll tell you what he told me. There are 10 other people with you on that field at all times. If you fall down, there are 10 pairs of hands ready to help you back to your feet. If you succeed, there are 10 others to celebrate with you. But it’s not all on you.”

Your eyes were misty, welling up with tears at his words. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a secure hug as the tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“No matter the outcome of the game next week, you’re an incredible player, Y/N.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve already done so much so early in your career. The media and the fans will say what they want—don’t let them get to you. And your coaches may get carried away with their expectations for you, but it’s just because they’re so excited to see you succeed. Just be the player you know how to be, and your achievements will speak for themselves.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you whispered after pondering his words for a moment. No words could express the gratitude you felt for the relief he had brought you just by letting you know that he was there and he understood. But as he squeezed your shoulders lightly in response, you hoped he knew just how thankful you were.

Eventually, Mason helped you to your feet, guiding you back toward the fields. You were still feeling a bit weak and unsteady, so he made sure you remained upright with a gentle hold on your arm as you walked. Deciding it was time for you to call it a day, he insisted on collecting the cones that you had been training with, not allowing you to help him by picking up even one of them.

It took some convincing but you told him you would be fine to drive yourself home—his only condition was that you texted to let him know you made it there safely.

“Alright, then. Rest on your day off tomorrow. Give yourself a break, okay?” he spoke as he put the last of the cones away. “I’ll check in with you on Monday, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two of you had been friendly before today, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves close friends. He just wanted to be sure that you knew you had people in your corner.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you nodded, smiling at him. With a final hug, he sent you on your way as he turned to rejoin his (undoubtedly confused) teammates where he had left them.

“Remember: rest!” he shouted back at you as you parted ways, and you couldn’t stop the blushing smile that worked its way onto your face.

tag list: @landoslover @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti

[bropunzeling]

to motivate myself to get back into working on seattle au (i wanna be DONE by SUMMER) here is a wip wednesday snippet featuring our favorite wrecking ball, brady tkachuk

As soon as their game against the Senators starts, Leon’s certain he made the right call about not going out for drinks after. For one thing, Ottawa scores three goals on them in five minutes to start everything off, which isn’t exactly something Leon appreciates. For another, Leon gets the distinct sense that Brady did not like him slashing Tim when the refs weren’t looking, which, whatever. Tim can take it, even if he did double over. He’s just being dramatic like always.

Brady’s opinion of him seems to really start going downhill during the second, though. First, Leon manages to score, bringing them within one; next, it’s Matthew’s turn, notching his second of the night and grinning obnoxiously at the Senators’ bench as they circle around for their fist taps. Once the game gets tied up, the stupid penalties start coming—tripping on Carson, then matching cross checks for Joseph and Big Rig. Despite all that time on their admittedly shitty PK, Matthew seems to only be getting more amped, bouncing next to Leon whenever they’re not skating, barely able to keep his ass on the bench as he yaps in Brady’s general direction. Brady, however, looks steamed, red-faced as he yells back at Matthew. By their last shift of the period, Leon has the same distinct sense of looming danger as a scientist handling nitroglycerine in an earthquake. It’s only a matter of time before something blows up.

Except it’s not another goal or Matthew saying something that finally sets Brady off. No, it’s Leon, chasing after the puck in the corner, only mostly looking where he’s going and managing to knock Tim on his ass. Again.

The whistle goes. Leon groans. “Fucking Christ, Tim,” he mumbles, “stay on your goddamn feet.”

That earns him a hearty fuck you back as Tim gets to his hands and knees, but it doesn’t register nearly as much as the fist suddenly in Leon’s jersey, yanking him off-balance. “I swear to god, Draisaitl,” Brady hisses, even as the refs are trying to get between them, “if you keep targeting Tim—”

“I’m not targeting anyone,” Leon protests, trying to twist around so he can shove Brady off. “Get the fuck off me—”

“What’s going on?” Jesus, now Matthew’s here too, trying to wrestle his way into the scrum. Surely that will help. “Hey, let go of Drai—”

“Matty, I swear to god, if you can’t rein your boy in I’m gonna do it for him,” Brady hollers, still trying to haul Leon in by the neck of his jersey no matter how hard Leon tries to wrench himself around and whack at Brady’s shins. “I don’t care how much you like him—”

“Lay off,” Matthew shouts back, “Tim’s a fucking diver and you fucking know it—”

“I’m fucking warning you,” Brady says as the linesmen finally break them apart, Giroux tugging Brady back while Matthew clamps a hand on Leon’s shoulder and Lars comes in to put another body between them. “Fuck around with my guys one more time and I’m dropping the gloves.”

“Is he really gonna fight me?” Leon asks when at last the period ends and they shuffle down the tunnel to the locker room.

“Nah, he won’t,” Matthew says, in a not entirely reassuring tone. “He’s just pissed that we tied ‘em up.”

“Wait, who’s fighting?” Yanni asks as they peel off to find their stalls. “Drai, are you fighting?”

“No,” Leon says flatly.

“Sounds like Tkachuk wants to,” Adam adds in his most unhelpful tone.

“Shit, dude, the fuck did you do to tick him off?” Borgy asks. He sounds way too delighted at the prospect of Leon getting his nose broken. “Piss in his coffee? Sleep with his girlfriend?”

Leon glares at him, then grabs a water bottle full of sports drink and chugs some. “Fuck off,” he says after wiping off his mouth. “I didn’t do shit.”

“I mean, I’ll fight him if you want,” Will says. “Chucky, tell your brother I can fight him.”

“Boys, let’s talk about how we’re gonna win this fucking game,” Coach says, and thankfully all discussion of fighting Brady gets tabled.

[typicalopposite]

👶👶👶👶👶👶👶👶

👀

ohhhh! you're interested interested! lol well since you wanted so many I'm gonna also double this as...

WIP Wednesday

(since I was tagged by these lovlies - @bidisasterevankinard @lavenderleahy @bangpop91 & @quintessenceofdust88 <3)

Evan is so close to him; his eyes searching and sad, his lips parted as he takes long deep breaths. He lifts a hand to Tommy’s cheek and caresses it as gently as he did the first time he initiated a kiss between them. It was after the coffee date, and Tommy walked Evan back to his jeep. Evan turned and grabbed Tommy’s face in the same way, and pulled him into a kiss. Which is exactly what he does now— slower this time… giving Tommy the chance to pull back or speak up— he doesn’t; Evan kisses him, and he just sighs into it, desperate for it. “Then… is— is this really what you want?” Evan asks, pulling back to look into Tommy’s eyes just as a tear falls. Tommy is a coward. He is not brave enough to say no… he’s too scared to say yes (not again). 

“I’m sorry…” he says. Forgive me… he means.

“Okay.” Evan says softly, leaning his forehead against Tommys; he sighs. “Okay…” he repeats and moves his lips back to Tommy’s, and Tommy should pull away… he should stop them from crossing that line, even just one last time.

He doesn’t.

He thought it would be… intense, like it is in the movies. Heated, rough… maybe it would even hurt– hurt in the way he feels he deserves for the hurt he has caused. It should leave him sore for days, limping into work so his team can poke fun and come up with a dozen or more theories… But it wasn’t. Tommy wonders if it’s even possible for sex with Evan to be anything less than amazing. Whether he takes, or he gives, he does it with so much passion and care, it’s breathtaking. Tommy opens his eyes to look at Evan and realizes… that actually makes it hurt so much worse. 

Maybe this is exactly the goodbye he deserves. A reminder he will never find something, someone, like this again. 

It’s over too soon, and he’s left breathless lying on Evan’s chest, trying to soak in every second he can before he needs to pull away for their own good. Evan’s hands hold him tightly, and only tighten when he starts to move, but not tight enough to keep him from pulling free. 

This is for the best. He tells himself this again and again and again as he slowly gets dressed, and Evan lies motionless staring up at the ceiling— Tommy only glances at him a couple times… each one has him wanting to crawl back into the bed and cling to Evan for dear life. He doesn’t. 

He runs his fingers through his tousled hair, tries to find some words so he isn’t just walking out with nothing more said… but none come to him. 

“I guess… I’ll see you around?” Evan says first, sighing out a halfhearted laugh at the broken record of a line— it’s like he knows it’s not true. He turns his head and finally locks eyes with Tommy, and the hold is so powerful Tommy isn’t sure if he’ll be able to break it. 

He could say something… he could take it back… he could come clean about his reasons for running… He simply nods. 

Evan swallows, and turns away from him— thankfully (thought is Tommy actually thankful for it?) breaking the connection himself, and looking back at the ceiling. “Goodbye Tommy…” 

“Goodbye…” Buck— no… “—Evan.”  He watches as Evan screws his eyes shut and turns away from him.  

Tommy stumbles his way down the stairs, determined to get out of the loft— out of earshot— before succumbing to his emotions. He looks back one more time at the ruins that remain of their relationship, strikes a match and tosses it with the closing of the door.

<3<3<3<3<3

Make Me Write!

and throwing out some NP tags forrrrr @30somethingautisticteacher @onthewaytosomewhere @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @judymarch15 @herrmannhalsteadproduction

@unhingedangstaddict @leashybebes @beanarie @hyperfocusthusly @kinardsevanaaand @weewookinard anyone else who wants to participate <3

[fumifooms]

I've reached a certain point in the manga now where Sissel heckles Marcille and mentions how "half breeds" are sterile.

And now I can't get out of my head the idea of a Marcille who can't become a mother herself, but ends up being able to experience something of the sort through meeting Chilchuck's daughters (even if they are all grown already.)

And allow me to go further, but also imagine that there is a point where Chilchuck does finally bury the hatchet with his wife, but have come to accept that they just don't work anymore, and decide to divorce formally on amicable terms.

The daughters therefore all slowly get to know Marcille, and even without the intent of being motherly, she dotes on them all anyway (because they're just so cute and so sweet!), and they see how their crabby father's eyes goes soft when they see Marcille interacting with them that by the end of it, they corner their father and tell him they approve.

Yes!!! YES!!!

You seem to not have finished the manga yet so I want to avoid spoilers… But no if I’m going into this topic I’ll absolutely end up spoiling some things lol. So beware, spoilers in the links I put and under the cut! I also talk about this topic/dynamics headcanons a bit here, and here, and specifically about his wife and him reconciling or not here, and my fanfic Grind Me Down Sweetly has bits and headcanons like these, but it’s an aspect of marchil with lots of potential!! Not obligatory reading btw lol, I just like to keep things as tidy as I can with things I cover many times plus there’s more stuff I won’t say here. I’m gonna be talking for a while though!!

I feel she could genuinely get along great with Flertom and Puckpatti, their personalities seem pretty compatible! Meanwhile Meijack’s more reserved, but Marcille would grow on her too. Meijack 100% would be the one who sticks more around her father as Marcille and her sisters chat enthusiastically when she first meets them, and out of nowhere she goes "She suits you." and Chil spits out his beer, but he swallows back the urge to deny it and then agrees.

One of my marchil timelines is that they stay close friends for a long time after post-canon, before maybe or maybe not dating. I like to think that after they meet, Marcille starts exchanging letters with Flertom sometimes because they hit it off and Chilchuck is like "Why are you on first name basis with my daughter!!! WHY ARE YOU ON FIRST NAME BASIS WITH MY DAUGHTER!! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN, STOP INFILTRATING ALL OF MY LIFEEEE-" <- Man who has her on his mind 24/7 and is kinda going mad over it. Hehe I’ll let you read the fic I linked in the beginning if that sounds fun to you!

I know that in my fic wips where confessions or proposals happen I tend to bring the topic of the daughters up. Here’s my favorite that lowkey guts me

Post-canon spoiler but I like the idea that when the Toudens die from age or one thing or another, if one of them forms a family and has kids (through adoption or anything) then at least over the centuries she’d still overlook the lineage of royals and would find a sort of solace from that, always being surrounded by lots of caring people. I think this is a bit healing for her single child self as well! Her notion of family and childhood are very tainted by loneliness and loss, and though she needs to accept that all hellos end with goodbye and find closure and happiness even through that, something can definitely be done about the loneliness! And as you can see with my fanfic wip, in a perfect marchil world I also think that she would fully become a part of Chilchuck’s family and generations down the line either people at family gatherings call her "great-auntie", or inversely no one really knows and just goes "oh her? Yeah that’s Marcille. She’s in the family -shrug-". The family dinners would be awkward at first since I imagine Chilchuck’s prejudices on elves come from somewhere lol, but it’d be so sweet.

But yes, back to the daughters! Marcille is 100% a mom friend who loves caring for her loved ones (I have a post examining that a bit here), there’s how she likes to bathe Izutsumi and Falin after all (Kui has said it herself that she loves when characters care for others in ways like that, which reflects in Marcille, and with Milsiril & Kabru or Mithrun & his caretakers, etc~), but I don’t think she’d actually want a kid herself if she had to choose, maybe she’d grow to want it one day but I think what kind of bonds she’s looking for currently are more platonic and such than familial in nature, that she wouldn’t want ro raise a child herself quite yet. She likes spoiling people she loves and caring for them in domestic ways, but not the ‘everything else’ part lol. So I actually think this works out great!! She 100% dotes on them as you said, but in many ways I think their dynamic would be a lot like gal pals chatting every once in a while, Flertom and her share in the latest gossip and they talk about fashion amongst other things! With Meijack being more akin to the usual stepmother dynamic where what ties them together is Chilchuck, until they grow to have a bond based on familiarity over time (I feel like due to these she’s the one that would have a mother-daughter relationship with Marcille the most since Flertom and Puckpatti would be more casual with her, but I basically think all the daughters and Marcille see each other as equals). Their common point above everything is caring about Chilchuck, and though of course Marcille would be ready to offer motherly comfort or support for them if they wanted it, the girls are pretty past that age so I don’t see it happening all that much, at least not in the first 5 years or so~ I think once Chil dies (probably not very late with how he drinks a lot of alcohol and was malnourished/"strict dieting" for what’s implied to be a very long time) the reverse is gonna happen, where Marcille is gonna be absolutely gutted and will reach out to the girls a lot to grieve together and spend time recovering together. Talking about him and whatnot. If his wife goes to his funeral and they meet, Marcille and her could potentially also have very interesting interactions.

Girl sure wishes she wasn’t right here :( Unbeknownst to him she’d be giving him lifespan buffs ad infinitum if she could

And! It was so easy for me to miss this detail when I first read The Adventurer’s Bible (the world guidebook) but Marcille’s mom remarried! Marcille has a stepfather herself! It’s interesting that Marcille’s relationship with him or her stance on her mom remarrying is left so open, but she certainly acts enthusiastic about families and kids so doesn’t seem like there’s a complex there. I think this would give her a lot of thoughts about potentially being a stepmother though! I think it might influence her in her casual attitude, where she doesn’t want to push herself as ‘the new mother’ and whatnot, and I think honestly if the girls ever wanted to vent to her about how their family situation made them feel, Marcille and them could have really heartfelt and understanding conversations.

Ah yes ah yes, might as well unload my ‘Chilchuck has a second family of clingy asses’ timeline I adore: Marcille and Izutsumi, + the rest of the gang to a lesser degree~ I already linked a post in which I talk about how Marcille’s somewhat of a motherly presence for her, and Izutsumi’s relationship with Chilchuck is def rather father-like too (post going into that here)! A post-canon Marcille hc I love is that Marcille gets a cat~ A black one to fit with her witch aesthetic, and with how the cat hairs are black like the dresses she now wears all the time so it’s less apparent that she’s covered in them lol. It reminds her of Izutsumi a bit as she goes on her journey, it’s kinda like the chickens she had around her as a kid, she loves having things to care for and spoil AND also it’s the end place of her character arc about appreciating loved ones even if they’re short-lived, and having the courage to want to know and love them anyways… It always comes back to marchil and his stupid only 20 years left to live I swear 😭 I genuinely feel like Marcille tends to keep some emotional distance from others during canon to try and minimize that effects of loss would have on her, but more on that in another upcoming post. But yeah I feel like every time she sees a stray cat while strolling out she starts tearing up a little… She wonders if Izutsumi is okay and eating well and all… But she learns to live with not fully knowing, and optimism & being hopeful are her trademark thing so she puts them to good use! Sometimes her and Chil will hang out of his shop and they’ll see a stray cat. They start leaving some food out for them. Chil is all "Bad idea! They’ll become overly reliant on our food and it’ll be bad for them!" at first but he caves. So then they watch it feed on what they gave it, and she brings up what was both on their mind. "Do you ever wonder where Izutsumi went, if she’s alright…" "You say that as if she didn’t visit three months ago. Aren’t you supposed to be the one for who long periods of time mean little here?" And a silence falls, but then after a bit he finally replies, without snark. "… I do." Marcille’s cat would 100% be a stray she decided to adopt actually. I am seeing how a marchil fic being written centered around this would work~ Before she brings it to the castle and officially adopts it, she sees it standing out in the rain all pitifully in front of Chil’s shop once and she invites it in (to Chilchuck’s despair), and from then on it’s still a stray but it has a home to go back to. And it can showcase Marcille and Chil’s relationship alongside that metaphorically and it’s like… Domesticating love… 😭 I think I hold a Grind Me Down Sweetly sequel here~ Chilchuck is so the ‘doesn’t want a cat dad who ends up being the cat’s favorite’, both with his cat daughter and the actual cat lol, and Marcille’s not a cat but he certainly wasn’t looking for another romance so hey!! Chilchuck expected to live alone forever after his wife didn’t get back together with him, but surprise!!! Ok cat tangent over I promise <3

Meeting the stepmom energy… Plus the dwarven bachelor. And the king. Maybe he didn’t make up with his wife "like how well it goes in stories" like he hoped for, but her wish sure did come true!! She met his family!! :] I’m planning a huge character arc post about this part of their interactions in canon, but optimism and hope did at least half the job <3 Especially since he hadn’t seen his daughters in years too. She’s good for him!!! And he’s good for her!!!

<3

[aldisobey]

20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

I was tagged by the ever delightful @holdingontojupiter I’m cleaning out the confessional for you, hiding away whatever happened in there. Maybe keeping a souvenir.

Alright. I started fic writing and fandom past Dec. Still feel new. I had like, one forum of friends I wrote stories with for a year and it’s been solitude beyond, this is absolutely delightful. If you were tagged for this post I wanna seeeeee but no pressure. I felt like adding tags in a fun way. If you’re tagged you’ve inspired or helped me in some way thank you.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

8 - though they’re all quite small I think Foolproof will end up being my first completed ‘story’

2) What’s your AO3 word count?

24,093 - sweet that’s more than I expected

3) What are your top five fics by Kudos?

Nascent Blight

Fuel to Fire

Weeping Hole

Fading Out

Rituals

4) What fandoms do you write for?

Dragon Age: The Veilguard right now. Maybe I’ll explore BG3 or D&D stuff at some point? I don’t know. An idea really needs to hook me.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES. Okay it takes me some time but that’s because I have to dig myself out of the grave first. If I have a bad day I’m reading the comments. If writing won’t flow? Comments. Brain starts telling me I can’t write? Comments. I must respond. They’ve given me more than they know.

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I love angst. Nascent Blight is still the angstiest I think. Any in Volkarin’s Beloved is usually angsty

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My magnum opus Weeping Hole

8) Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! Not that I’ve seen.

9) Do you write smut?

I have! And I do. I’m in my apprenticeship. I study @razildor and @thepalehorsevictoria I’m hoping to make it to journeyman with my next release. Hello lovelies. @heylittleriotact you already know I devour your stuff to learn this art you’ve mastered. AND YOU @ollypopwrites almost got me buying gold how DARE I am an anarchist, goooold??? No. Aureate my sinful pleasure. I don’t need finery DAMN IT.

10) Do you write crossovers?

I do not. Or have not. I don’t know if that’ll ever interest me. @jainydoe has me wanting to put Emmrich with a vampire somewhere…no…Hannibal. They should have dinner.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. But look. I own nothing. What is mine is yours. What I release is for anyone. Everyone. Not minors. What they gonna pretend they wrote it? Lmao cool do it again. Do it for me if you will. Steal my fic spread it far and wide to more people. I support crime. Fuck ai though. You do that shit you’re dead to me. Mostly I’d be sad of stealing because I wanna talk and talk and talk about everything.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! That’d be sick, translating must be hard af

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope. But Weeping Hole and Foolproof wouldn’t exist without my producer and Emmrich behavioral consultant @emmg thanks for letting me workshop in our shared space lover. I need you to you know you changed my life for the better when you engaged with Nascent Blight. So many stories on this site because of you, what a shining star, a beacon. You are Worne’s father bless.

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

HANNIGRAM I just love Hannibal. I love Mads.

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmmmm. I believe in my current wips. The want to finish keeps them, if I have enough content for wip there is hope. I want to write a chode fic like @lavenderprose now. But Maggie. I. You. ~Lavender- I’m singing and I want it to be your voice. Thank your lucky stars I can’t go visit Ursula down in the deep to swap.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Ooof. I legitimately don’t know how to answer this. I don’t see myself clear, mic to my love, my beloved, @caffeinatedmunchkin ~you raise me up~. She speaks my strengths to me so I can keep on digging. She said I can write stuff you can see and feel. Thank you kisses forever. “neatest tightest snappiest prose” bless you and all your words. I want to put you on my will.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually getting words down for one. But I’m getting better at that. And I think I overuse some phrases or words. Maybe I could use more detail and more in the head stuff. But really I want to get better at getting stuff written before I start languishing over my style lol.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

If the fic needs it, the fic will get it. I’m not going to add it just to have it? I’ll never avoid it if it would be natural to have the dialogue in another language. It’d slow me down though because I’d be obsessive with making sure it’s right and I’m a one language having knowing yank. I despair. I’d move to a land of language if I could.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

I’m going to say Call of the Wild because it made me write wolves on neopets loool. Technically Dragon Age. You know the first RP forum I joined was for the Inheritance Cycle. But being here feels like my first foray into ‘fandom’.

20) Favorite fic you’ve written?

It’s gonna be Foolproof I’m having the time of my life. Emmrich having to deal with Worne as a bodyguard is way too much fun for me. Don’t worry Professor you’re gonna love him. @by-ilmater thank you for that idea friend. I think it’s going the distance.

——————

And that’s all for now! you know me I could talk forever but I love you all and I love even the folks I haven’t engaged with. 🧡 share stories 🧡 share art 🧡 @mistressandry see tagging you as well because I enjoyed reading brushes with death last night! Yell at me in messages, at me whatever, writing is survival for me. I’m going to do my best to disappear and finish my chapter.