#this sat in my wips forever well no more

[muwitch]

Wake up, wake up, wake up;

[mobbu-min]

☆ grandma's best friend ☆

summary: in which you’re tasked with picking up your grandma after her knitting club and can’t help but fall in love with the handsome man sat right beside her.

a/n had this in the wip hell for forever. i was going to add azul but.... i have the hardest time writing him, so maybe he'll appear in another piece. also this takes place after they have graduated from nrc!

characters trey clover, deuce spade, jack howl, silver & lilia vanrouge

tw cursing

 Despite living in the same house with your grandma since the day you were born, there were still plenty of things you didn’t know about her. And truthfully you weren't one to pry into her, what you considered, pretty mundane life. Early morning walks, baking a mountain of cookies and breads and watching soap operas weren’t really your things. 

 So not once, never in your life, did you expect that you’d be stopped dead in your tracks the moment you entered through the glass doors of your grandma’s friend's sunroom. It was supposed to be a knitting class for older women, right?

 Well, apparently your grandma decided to be super mean and not tell you about the absolute hunk that came every week. 

 You watched from the entry as he laughed along with your grandma. It was like you could hear church bells in the distance. You instantly could tell with the way your grandma and the other ladies flocked to him and talked so sweetly to him that they were absolutely smitten with him. 

 As if sensing your rising temperature, your grandma turned her head around and waved you over. “What are you doing all the way over there? Come here, sweetie.”

 You suddenly felt so shy and quickly averted your gaze. Your stomach doing backflips the closer you got. Why did you feel like you were going to explode?

 As your grandma introduced you, you peaked up at him only to freeze in place the moment your gaze caught his. And the moment his lips stretched into the prettiest, most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen, you knew you were down bad. 

 Like really bad.

Trey Clover <3

⋆ Trey Clover, the baker’s son. Everyone knew him as a kind and gentle soul. You’ve known him since you were young, going to the same elementary school as him and his feline friend, however that all you were. Simply classmates and your desire to know him outside of that was zero to none.

⋆ So safe to say, you haven’t seen him since he was a preteen and suddenly the image of a lanky, nerdy looking boy with a shy smile dispersed when you saw him.

⋆ Tall, strong and handsome, not to mention a fine looking ass. He’s definitely changed since you last saw him. And suddenly, all the older women talking about trying to hook up their daughters with the baker’s son suddenly made a lot more sense. He was the definition of husband material.

⋆ And you were determined to make him yours.

☆☆☆

“Hopefully you remember my granddaughter, I know she can blend into the crowds easily.” You grandma laughed joyfully and despite her fraile statue, the heaviness of her hands persisted causing you to stumble forwards.

Chuckling awkwardly, you smiled crookedly at Trey who smiled easily at your grandma’s antics, seemingly used to it. Placing a large, yet comforting, hand on your shoulder he steady you, “Don’t worry, Mrs. (l/n), I have a pretty strong memory.”

“Hmpf, and hopefully you keep it then, lest you end up like your grandmother over there.” Your grandma jabbed playfully at the chubby woman who glared softly in her direction.

And yet despite your best attempt to listen to the both of them bicker back and forth, the warmth sweeping through your thin sweater was enough to keep your attention on the young man. Catching your gaze, Trey’s honey eyes twinkled with curiosity, “Hey, (y/n), it’s been awhile.”

Like water hitting oil, your heart exploded into thousands of little sparks the second your name rolled off his tongue. How can one person sound so sweet? Like sugar and sprinkles and everything sweet? It was not far!

“Hehe, yeahhh.” You drawled out, your cheeks ablaze and hot to the touch. Doing your best to reign in your heart eyes, you coughed into your fist and smiled sweetly at him, “H-how have you been? Last I checked you were in dentistry school, right?”

Scratching his nape, Trey hummed, “I was, but after my dad hurt his back I came back to help with the bakery. It didn’t feel right to leave my mom to take care of the bakery, my dad and siblings all by herself.”

Ah, a family man, how nice, you cooed internally. Now, you haven’t thought of settling down anytime soon, but for him? Your ass is sat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Trey. That sounds horrible.” You said with full sincerity, your heart aching for him. “Have you thought about going back though?”

“I’ve thought about it, but…” His gaze roamed around the room filled with elderly ladies laughing and joking around, to them greeting their partners with warm welcomes and honey eyes, until settling back to you. Mirth swam through his pretty eyes, “I kinda like it here.”

Your heart, the romantic thing it was, was set zooming into the sky and exploding into fireworks. While you knew it was merely coincidence that you just happened to be here and asked that particular question, it was all you needed to decide that whatever future Trey wanted was one you were going to be a part of.

The world can call you whatever, a romantic, a simp, you didn’t care.

Tilting your head, you smiled sweetly at him, “Yeah, I do too.”

This was going to be your happily ever after.

Deuce Spade <3

⋆ It took you a second to recognize the boy that struggled to untangle the yarn on his lap, but the moment his wide blue eyes scanned the room to see how far behind he was, you knew.

⋆ Deuce Spade, the former bad boy turned honorary magical student.

⋆ You wouldn’t say that you didn't like him, more like you don’t know him. Your paths never really crossed, with him always skipping school and all. Though you did always have a soft spot for him, afterall he would consistently turn a blind eye every time you snuck out of p.e.

⋆ And you couldn’t deny the tiny crush you had on him either. Something about his bad boy behavior that made your young nerdy heart swoon.

⋆ So who could blame you for blushing the moment he laid eyes on you.

☆☆☆

 Pretty, was the first thought that crossed your mind. Also, that he looked a lot like his mom, who you’ve tried to get with multiple times before hand. Sadly your homemade lunches and pathetic attempts at flirting did nothing to convince her to give you a chance. However it did convince her not to bill you every time she had to fix up your old beaten up car. 

 He looked a lot older too. His big bright blue eyes, a little narrower yet still glowing like the sun shining down on the sea. His soft cheeks were gone, a lot more slender and mature, yet he still maintained that youthful pink hue to the apple of his cheeks. And if you looked closely enough you could see the black ink of tattoos peeking out of his cerulean sweater. 

 You could feel your cheeks blossom into the all too familiar hue of the cherry blossoms that grew outside the windows. You hoped your makeup would mask the heat radiating off your cheeks. Clutching onto the straps of your bag, you shuffled towards your grandma, who stared at you with knowing eyes. Curses, I should have never left my diary where she could see it. 

 Just as you opened your mouth to greet your grandma, your breath hitched. It was like you were staring into the ocean, the glimmers in his eyes like clear waters. You were in awe at how a simple look from a guy you haven’t seen in ages could leave you so breathless. 

 A sharp jab to your ribs quickly ripped you out of whatever shoujo-esque moment you were having. Crumbling over, you gingerly held your side and wheezed. Your grandma, the blunt old lady she is, paid your suffering no mind and was quick to chastise you. “Goodness (y/n), have I not taught you nothing? It’s rude to stare.”

 Like a knight you’ve read about in plenty of romance novels back in your preteens and teens (even now honestly), he came to your rescue. 

 “It’s alright, I don’t mind Mrs. (l/n).” You could hear your grandma huff and turn away, probably to gossip with the other ladies. Despite her old age, her strength has yet to fail her and her elbows were, unfortunately, sharp. Yet, all that pain disappeared with a gentle touch to your shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

 Raising your head, your eyes widened at the closeness between you both. You were sure at this point your makeup did nothing to help the ever darkening color of your face. If anything it was probably being wiped off with how much you were sweating. 

 Laughing nervously, you shook your head and smiled, “Y-yeah, I’m good. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

 Amusement danced in his eyes. Rubbing at his own side, he nodded along, “Tell me about it, she sure packs a punch.” Familiarity sparkled across his features, “(y/n), right? You were a grade above me?”

 “Yup, it’s been awhile, Deuce.” Sitting in your grandma’s spot, you took one of the sweet strawberry jam cookies and popped it in your mouth.”What have you been up to lately?”

 Sitting down, Deuce hummed, “You know, uni and stuff. Studying isn’t really my forte, but I’m trying hard.”

 “Making your mom proud?” You teased softly. With how often you were over at her house, you heard plenty of stories of his recent endeavors. Not to mention, you could never get over how fondly she spoke of her only son. The type of love and proudness that was totally unique to her. 

 Sighing, Deuce ran a hand through his hair, “I sure hope so…”

 Punching his shoulders, you scoffed, “Oh, c’mon Deuce, give yourself more credit. You're practically the light of her life. No matter what happens, she’ll always be proud of you.”

 Warmth flooded his gaze at your words. Despite knowing that, it was always nice to hear it said out loud. Playing with the loose threads of his sweater, he easily turned the conversation around, “Uh, but what about you? My mom says you're at the house every week to get your car fixed.”

 “Oh, yeah…haha…” You laughed bashfully, praying to the Sevens that she didn’t mention your flirting. Placing a finger on your chin, you stared up at the ceiling, “I’ve been good. I work at the local tattoo shop as a receptionist. I’m hoping that Mr. Stevens will finally accept my portfolio, but from the looks of things…I think I’m better off trying to get an apprenticeship in the city.”

 Nodding along, Deuce grinned, “I remember you always doodling on everything. I’m surprised you didn’t try…um…professional painting? Is that a thing? Like galleries and stuff?”

 “I wanted to, but it was too expensive. Tattooing though? Pretty accessible money wise, it’s just a pain in the ass to get someone to take you under their wing.” You sighed tiredly. Shrugging your shoulders, you turned your gaze to Deuce and grinned, “I guess we’ve both been busy trying to make something of ourselves huh?”

 “Yeah, I guess we are.”

 Hearing your grandma call out your name, you knew your conversation had to come to its end. Rising up, you fixed your bag and offered Deuce a soft smile. 

 “It was nice talking to you again. I’m kinda sad it was cut short.”

 Scratching his cheek, he averted his eyes, “Well…it doesn't have too.”

 Tilting your head, you looked at him in confusion. Something warm and electric blooming in your chest. 

 Reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone and offered it to you. Smiling nervously, he stuttered, “L-let’s exchange numbers and if you aren’t too busy, let’s get some drinks sometime this week.”

 It was like thousands of angels came down from heaven at his proposal. This was everything your little preteen heart had ever wanted, and who were you to deny her?

 “That sounds like fun!”

Jack Howl <3

(reader is a wolf beastmen too!)

⋆ Muscles….

⋆ So many muscles…

⋆ You could feel your knees quiver and threaten to crumble under your weight. You’ve seen plenty of muscular people in your life, but never one with such a gentle touch as him. The way he held the croquet needle was as if he was afraid he’d break it with his full force.

⋆ To the gentle sway of his fluffy snow white tail told you everything you needed to know about him.

☆☆☆

You considered taping your own tail against your leg with how fast it wagged behind you. Don’t be fooled, you loved who you were, but you didn’t love how easy it was for others to decipher your emotions through the simple beat of your tail. And it appears that, no matter how hard you try to feign a cool and mysterious persona, everyone could see how much of a dork you were by simply looking behind you.

Your grandma stifled her own chuckles behind a wrinkled hand, “Jack, this is my granddaughter, (y/n). I hope you can both get along.”

Both of your ears perked up the moment your eyes caught his, golden like the sun surrounded by fluffy white clouds. Again, your grandma giggled and busied herself with other matters. Deciding to let fate take charge.

Nodding your head, you smiled shyly, “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. It’s not often I meet other wolf beastmen here.”

You liked to think that's why you were so excited, and certainly not because he was practically your dream guy. Oh Sevens, it felt like you were in a dream. You wished you wouldn’t wake up.

Jack nodded, his expression stoic, but much like yourself, his curiosity was clearly shown by the twitch of his ear and wag of his fluffy tail. You instantly realized he wasn’t much for talking. Typically with anyone else, you’d find it awkward, but with Jack, you found yourself at ease.

Leaning against the window frame, you gestured to his green and brick brown coasters, “I like your coasters, they're so pretty. Are they for anyone in particular?”

Shaking his head, he moved besides you, “No, it’s actually for me. I thought it would look nice underneath my cactuses.”

His voice was deep, but not too deep that made you shudder, deep and smooth like you were floating through a river. A steady beat unlike your heart. From your spot you could smell his cologne, a light sandalwood fragrance that mixed well with his natural woodsy scent.

Humming softly, you pulled your tail to your lap to prevent it from hitting him and gently ran your fingers through the soft fur, “Cactuses, huh? You must take very good care of them.”

“I do. They seem easy to care for, but they need a strict schedule to make sure they grow strong.” Jack said proudly. A smirk that sent your heart into cardiac arrest present on his clear brown skin. And then as if he suddenly remembered something, he looked down almost bashfully, “And well, some are also for my family.”

Ugh, he just keeps on getting more and more perfect! You internally squealed. Calming yourself, you asked, “That’s nice of you. Handmade things from the heart is always the best. Is that why you’re taking these classes? I typically don’t see guys like you willingly hanging out in a place like this.”

Leaning his head back, Jack thought, “I thought this would broaden my horizons. Knitting and crocheting requires patience and discipline. So in turn that would help me out when I work out.”

“Training the mind, while training the body!”

“Mh-hm.” Glancing down at you, he grinned, “I’m glad you understand. The guys in my work out group were jerks about it.”

Grinning, you gently nudged him with your elbow, “They sound like a bunch of airheads then.”

Jack chuckled under his breath. They type of laugh that would have every head turning. The type of laugh that you would hear rarely, like a special treat. The type of laugh you knew you wanted for yourself.

Right then and there, you decided you were going to do your hardest to make him yours.

Silver <3

⋆ Beautiful, stunning, angelic, you could go on.

⋆ The boy in front of you was straight out of a romance novel. The knight perhaps, judging by his build. But his face totally screams prince.

⋆ You could feel your heart racing in your chest that it was almost painful.

⋆ And dear sevens, he just smiled.

⋆ Yeah, you were screwed.

☆☆☆

“I am so sorry!” You apologized profusely, hastily taking out napkins from your bag to dap onto his soft pastel blue sweater. Searing heat painted your face. Pure embarrassment piercing your chest.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He said softly, gently prying your shaking hands away. “Things like this happen, no need to get so worked up about it.”

If this was any other instance where you weren’t fighting your demons, you would be swooning and thinking to yourself that your dreams of becoming the main character of a shoujo anime finally came true. But no, the world hates you. So you were having a difficult time not feeling bad, especially when his sweaters looked so…

Expensive… you sighed internally, trying your best not to eye the large weird shaped blob staining his chest. “Still, I am incredibly sorry. Maybe I can pay for dry cleaning?”

A smile, soft and so, so, so pretty, formed on his face. A gentle shake of head caused his silky silver hair to fall delicately across his clear glasslike skin, you weren’t sure if you were feeling awe or envy at this point. With an amused tone that held no annoyance, he reassured, “I told you it was okay, didn’t I? I’m not mad at all, so you shouldn’t feel bad.”

Then his smile fell. Looking crestfallen, he sighed, “If anything, I should apologize. Your coffee is all gone now.”

Immediately alarm bells began to ring all throughout your head. A boy as pretty and nice as him should never be sad, it said. Fix it, it demanded.

Holding up your empty cup, you laughed nervously, hoping to ease his imaginary burden. “No, no! I have so much left! See!” A sad single drop touched your lip. You wanted to end it all.

Despite your pure hatred for the world right now, the boy in front of you found it funny. Or maybe he was pitying you. Either way you’re taking it as a win.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you laughed alongside him, “Maybe if I was an ant, then maybe that would have been enough.”

Clearing his throat, he gazed softly at you and held out his hand, “I’m Silver.”

Without missing a beat, you shook his hand, “(y/n). It’s nice to meet you, Silver.”

“Likewise.” Leaning against the wall, he asked, “What brings you here?”

Perking up, you swayed back and forth on the balls of your heels, “I’m here to pick up by grandma. Though she’s typically not this late.”

You spared your phone a glance. She was twenty minutes late. You would have gone in to see, but last time she scolded you big time. You weren’t really in the mood to deal with her nasty temper.

Silver nodded. “Me too. I came to get my father, but it seems like the class is running longer then expected. -sigh- I shouldn’t have fallen asleep earlier.”

“You feel asleep?” You asked with a light laugh.

Pink dusted his face and his auroral eyes stared up at the sky, “Yes. It’s a bad habit I’ve had for a long time. Anyways, I was supposed to attend today, but well…”

His bashful expression made your heart swoon. Was it possible for a angel to look any more angelic? Apparently yes, judging by the way the sun perfectly hit his features and the sudden appearances of birds and little critters.

“It happens. I was supposed to come too, but I spent too much time getting ready that my grandma left without me. Something about her having to get there early.” She has been acting so strange lately, you hoped she wasn’t getting sick.

“Odd, my father had to get here early too.” Silver hummed, remembering the way his father buzzed in excitement.

A few seconds passed by in silence. Mulling over each other words, you both began to piece together the reasons for their odd behaviors. Looking up at Silver, you gasped.

“You don’t think…”

“Perhaps…”

As if answering your questions, the doors to your grandmother’s friends sunroom burst opened. Followed by her friend’s exasperated yells and two gleeful gigglings. Spinning around the both of your gasped.

“I told you both! Next time I catch you guys kissing in my sunroom, I’m kicking you out!” She huffed.

“Ehehe, Mrs. Eliza no need to get so pent up! We were merely getting acquainted!” The small, youthful looking fae giggled. Hugging your grandmother from behind.

“Acquainted! In my sunroom?!” She gasped indignantly. Her face was hot in anger.

“You’re just mad I’m getting more action than you have in the past 30 years!” Your grandmother cackled, kissing the fae’s cheeks lovingly.

Before the older lady could lift her broom up to wack your grandmother, Silver stepped fowards with an apologetic smile, “Ms, I’m so sorry for my father’s behavior.”

Instantly her anger died down at the angelic boy. Her frown turning into a sweet smile. “Oh, you sweet boy. No need to apologize for your father. Goodness, how did that thing even raise such a sweet boy like yourself.”

Despite Silver's smile, you noticed the way his fist clenched at his side. You rose a brow at him. Ignorant to his quiet anger, she waved the two older figures off. “Just get out of here.”

Once she was outta sight, they both burst out in laughter. Holding each other up as their lungs expelled any air left. All of your grandma’s odd behavior suddenly made sense.

“What the heck?” You finally said, earning their attention. Pointing to the mischievous looking fae, you asked, “This is why you’ve been getting home late? Because you were getting…getting…”

“My freak on.” Your grandma giggled. You suddenly regretted setting up her tik tok account.

Placing at hand on Silver’s shoulder, you gagged, “Oh god, I’m going to puke.”

“Oh please, no need for your theatrics dear.” Your grandma hushed, already making her way to your car. Over her shoulder, she jabbed, “Unless your jealous that I got a boyfriend before you!”

You gasped so loud that it made Silver jump. “Grandma!”

The fae, floated towards your grandma and kissed her cheek. Rubbing her shoulders, he grinned, “Now dear, don’t be so harsh on the youngin’s. I fear it’s a common issue among them all.”

Silver bristled next to you. His cheeks heated up at his father’s remark. Romance has never been his top priority.

“Do you hear them, Silver! They’re mocking us!” You hissed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“I hear them loud and clear.” He sighed. Looking at the fae, Silver asked, “Father, I never expected to find out you were seeing someone. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His magenta eye widened at the hurt in his son’s voice. You and your grandma looked at him quizzically. Placing a hand on Silver’s arm, you rubbed it reassuringly. And definitely not because you could feel his toned and defined muscles.

“Ah, well your old man is entitled to his secrets.” Pointing to your grandma, he added, “Like my dearest!”

“I never kept it a secret. She just never asked, Lilia.” Your grandma retorted.

All three pairs of eyes fell on you. Suddenly finding your shoes the most interesting thing in the world, you chuckled stiffly, “Well…she's not wrong…”

Shaking her head, your grandma offered joyfully, “How about a nice cup of tea and muffins to settle things out!” Then nudging, who you now know as, Lilia, she winked, “We might not be the only one’s in a relationship soon enough.”

Catching her drift, he eyed the both of you playfully, “Ohoho! Oh lovely. I’ve always wanted grandchildren.”

Confusion fluttered through your features. Looking at each other, you were suddenly very much aware of the lack of space between you both. Jumping back, you both stared at each other bashfully. Your grandma and Silver’s father’s laughter floating in the distance. Your heart drumming against your rib cage at Silver’s shy face.

Sevens, I think I’m going to die!

[moonlight-prose]

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt  in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

[justmeinadaze]

Created a Monster (Steddie X Kas Y/N)

Every time I hear this song this idea pops into my head but it's not what I'm used to writing per say. I wanted you guys to read like a preview and tell me if this is something you'd want more of or a one shot. Or whatever lol Just some feed back :) It's been sitting in my WIP forever but I can't stop thinking about it.

Warning: Steddie X Kas Fem Reader, mentions of grief and how much the boys miss her, I twisted some things from the show obviously. Instead of Eddie fighting, Y/N does. I also read up a bit on Kas so took some lore there. Not really expanded on in this preview but...

Word Count: 1956

Eddie and Steve stare at your gravestone as the preacher continues to spout some nonsense about young souls being angels on Earth and being called back home. No one understood what they were going through not even their friends they had fought with. You were their everything and now… you were gone. 

Steve and Robin sat in the cafeteria of the hospital picking at their food as they waited for Eddie to join them. For the past four months they had been visiting Max while continuing to be moral support for Lucas. Neither boy would let on how jealous they actually were of the former Hellfire member. At least he could still hold his girlfriend’s hand…see her face…kiss her cheek.

“The doctor’s said she’s showing improvement.”, Robin mused as she took a bite of bland rice in front of her. 

“That’s good. She’s a good kid who’s been through too much. She deserves to have a full life.”

His friend nods in understanding, scanning Steve over before reaching for his hand. 

“This is a stupid question but how are you doing?”

“I’m, um, I’m surviving. Eddie’s trying to keep it together for the guys but we’re both kind of floundering.”, he chuckles as he places his fork down and leans back. “I miss her laugh. Every time Munson would tell a joke, she would close her eyes and scrunch her nose… so cute.”

“Yeah, she was.”, his friend softly murmured. “She loved you two more than anything. Y/N would talk about you both nonstop to an annoying degree.”

When Robin playfully rolls her eyes, they both laugh almost uncontrollably until his gradually shift into sobs. Rising to her feet, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and in turn he does the same, his fingers digging almost painfully into her back. 

“I miss her so much.”

***

When both boys finally made it back home, Eddie silently flopped down on the couch as he grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Since your passing, the metalhead had moved into the living room since their apartment only had one bedroom. Without you between them they saw no point in sharing anymore. Steve never said anything to contradict but he wished his friend had stayed. Even though they were never intimate in the dynamic, he would have rather shared a bed with his friend than be alone. It was just more of a reminder that you were gone. 

“Another group of men were found dead today outside of their homes, stabbed through the chest, and with nothing stolen or motive perceived from Hawkins PD. We reached out to reinstated Chief Hopper for comment but at this time none was given.”

“Something we should be worried about you think?”, Steve asked as he came up behind his friend to watch the tv.

“I mean, as long as they aren’t blaming me, I’d say no.”

“It doesn’t seem like Vecna either. No broken bones or eyes caved in—” Rising to his feet, Eddie hastily turned off the tv and reached for his jacket. “Eddie—”

“I agree. No Vecna. I’m, um, I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Is this how it’s always going to be?! Are we just going to be awkward around each other now? She wouldn’t have wanted that, Ed.”

A smooth, sarcastic laugh escaped the metalhead’s lips as he turned to face his friend. 

“Yeah? Well, I wanted her here and she’s fucking dead. We both don’t get what we want.”

“So, you’re just going to sully her memory like that?”

“Oh, fuck you, Harrington! She’s the one that ran off even though I told her not to move. She’s the one that decided to fight instead of listening to you and not being a hero. She’s the one who DIED IN MY FUCKING ARMS!” As his voice cracked, he paused to collect himself. “Y/N’s gone. She doesn’t get a say anymore.”

With that he turned on his heels and slammed the door. 

“He’s always been really hot headed hasn’t he?”, the vision of you giggles as you kick your feet against the counter. 

Steve never told anyone for fear of coming off as insane but this is how he processed you no longer being around; he pretended you weren’t gone.

“Yeah, just like you.”

“Excuse me! I was stubborn but not ‘hot headed’, jerk.”

His head hung at the word “was” as his bottom lip began to tremble. Jumping off the counter, you slide over till you were just inches from his side. Even though you weren’t really there, he swore he could smell you.

“Steve, baby, look at me. He’ll be ok… you both will.”

Shaking his head, he wiped the tears that had begun to fall but when he moved his hands away the image of you disappeared. 

“I love you, honey. I miss you so much.”

############

Eddie pulled his hood over his head as he powerwalked in what he thought was no particular direction. Even after being exonerated people still scowled and hurled insults his way. The ones that hurt him the most were the ones about you. 

Because they couldn’t bring your body back, it was assumed you had died with everyone else. Your family still held on to hope but in the worst way. You parents used to love him and Steve, treating them both like family but after Chrissy’s death everything shifted. They told you to stay away from him and in turn you told them to fuck off. 

Anytime they saw Eddie, they begged him to tell them where you were or where your body was so they could properly grieve. He ignored them as best he could but it killed him because he knew the truth. That’s something he and Nancy could connect on. Every time she told him about her experiences with Barb it comforted him to an extent. He hoped one day he could give them peace like her friend’s parents got. 

Stumbling over his feet, the metalhead finally took note of his surroundings realizing he had walked to Hawkins Cemetery. Sighing heavily, he gave in and let his feet continue to lead him till he was in front of your plot. 

“Y/N Y/L/N. 1986. Loving Friend, Daughter, and Girlfriend.” 

“Fucking basic shit. You were way more than that.”, he grumbled as he took a seat facing your stone. 

“I’m angry with you; so fucking angry. I told you to go up the rope but you insisted I go so I could catch you like Steve had. I should have known better. How could you do that? How could you leave us like that?!”

“I didn’t do it by choice.”, the vision of you replied in a sad but calm tone as you sat on top of your own stone. Eddie’s jaw tightened as he looked in the opposite direction. “Still ignoring me?”

“You’re not real.”

“True…but it helps Steve. At least that’s what you hope after hearing him talk out loud to me the other night. He really hates being alone, you know? He wants to talk to you but—”

“I can’t talk about you with people. Not yet.”

“Ok, then don’t talk about me. Maybe talk about D&D or Steve’s day. Anything else. Eddie, just because I’m gone doesn’t mean you two stop being friends.”

“Don’t preach to me, babe. I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Nothing. That’s all I ever fucking hear now. I don’t hear your stories about work or your family. I don’t hear you laughing at my jokes or your sarcasm when you’re making fun of Steve for his lack of movie knowledge. I don’t hear your fucking breath in the middle of the night when you’re sleeping or see you bite your lip when you’re thinking about something complicated. I don’t feel your fingers in my hair when I’m lying on the floor listening to music or your lips against mine. Why, Y/N? Because you’re fucking DEAD!”

The vision of you watched with sympathetic eyes as his shoulders shook and he sobbed in his hands. After a few minutes, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, finding you sitting cross legged in front of him with your knees inches from his own. 

“I don’t know how to live without you, sweetheart.”

“Eddie… I never loved anyone on this planet as much as I loved you and Steve. If it meant keeping you both safe…I would die again.”

“It was our job to protect you.”

“And you did such an amazing job.”

Shaking his head, he glanced towards a tree in the distance before turning your way to find you gone. 

“I love you, baby.”

################

Steve’s eyes snap open at the sound of glass breaking before quickly grabbing his bat and slowly stalking to the kitchen. 

“Jesus Christ!”

“I just go by Eddie but…” They both exasperatedly laughed as the other boy lowered his weapon. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just left the cemetery and I didn’t realize it was so fucking late.”

“Did, um, were you going to see her?”

He could have responded sarcastically but your words lingered in his mind. 

“Yeah… I just needed to hash some things out with her.”

“I know how you feel. Sometimes I get really angry at her to but then I get confused because I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Yeah.”, Eddie laughs as well. “Fuck, this sucks.”

As his friend nodded, a shadow on the wall caught the former jocks attention. It looked like a figure but that can’t be right because they were on the fourth floor of their complex. Just as he began to glance to find out what it was, their window shattered causing both men to fall to the ground and cover their heads. 

Steve recovered first, swiftly grabbing his bat and blocking the weapon that begun to swing down towards the metalhead. To his surprise it did stop it but as soon as he pushed the figure back, the bat cut cleanly in half. It took him a few seconds to realize the stranger in front of him was wielding a sword causing him to duck out of the way as the person continued swinging it at him. 

While trying to find something to defend himself with, he heard Eddie call his name and turned just in time to see him slide another sword his way. 

“Isn’t this fake?!”

“Please! We’re nerds! Do you think Y/N and I would buy anything fake!?”

Just as Steve unsheathed the weapon, it clinked loudly against the strangers. Both beings went toe to toe with the pretty boy surprising even himself. He got too cocky, however, lowering his guard just enough for the figure to punch his chest knocking the wind out of him as he fell to the floor. 

The armor the figure was wearing loudly tapped against each other as they stepped forwards and pointed their weapon at Steve’s throat. With wide eyes, he watched as the person took off their helmet and casually tossed it to the ground as their hair fell around their face.

“Y/N?”

The boy whined as you tilted the sharp weapon up towards his chin causing him to stretch his face out of the way. 

“My master sends his regards.”, you hiss as you step back and raise your sword. 

Before you can do anything, something hard collides with your head and you faint to the ground.

“Ok, I’m not dreaming right? Or hallucinating?”, Eddie asked as he reached for Steve’s hand to help him off the ground. 

“No, dude. At least I don’t think so…”

[buckyshoneybunny]

Birthday Girl

Bucky Barnes + Curvy!Reader 

Summary- It's your birthday and Bucky wants to make it special 

W.C.- 1122 

Warnings- reader has adhd, fluff, metions to smut, 18+ please no minors, cursing. 

A/N- Today is my birthday!!! Sorry I have been inactive; I’ve been busy and sick and just no motivation. I do have a fall fic coming!! I realized a couple of days ago I could have done kinktober but oh well. I have so many ideas and wips but not enough time and motivation. Anyway I do hope you like it and be on the lookout, I’ll try to get more stories out. Until next time my loves! (Thank you for the love!!!)  

Masterlist 

Bucky’s heart fluttered as he watched you sleep, your hair glowing in the early morning sunlight streaming in, though knotted. He brushed some hair behind your ear, peppering your face with kisses and causing you to stir. 

Eyes still closed, you smiled and snuggled further into Bucky’s side, causing him to chuckle softly. 

“Happy birthday, doll,” he whispered into your hair. 

You hum and bury your face in his neck. “Thank you,” you mumble.  

“You’re welcome.”  He rubbed his flesh hand down your thigh, the metal one holding you close. You both laid there in the comfort of your shared bed, basking in the warmth for a little while longer.  

You savored the calm, relaxing mornings with Bucky whenever you could, holding on tightly and never wanting to let go. Being an Avenger, Bucky wasn’t always able to spend these few extra minutes with you in bed. So, when he did get a chance like this, he snatched it up and milked it for all its worth.  

He relished in the feeling of your fingers drawing mindless patterns on his bare chest, your warm breath against his neck, hearing your heartbeat and knowing you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. He felt forever grateful for you, and he was going to make sure you had a great birthday.  

A knock on the front door of your shared apartment popped the bubble of solitude you had going. 

“Who’s that?” You grumble into his neck, voice slightly muffled. 

“That would be breakfast,” he chuckles. 

“When the hell did you order breakfast?” 

“Before you woke up.” You hum and start to get up before he halts your movements. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he huffs with a smile. “I will get that and bring it to you. You keep your gorgeous ass in this bed.” He jumps out of bed before you can protest, but not before getting his legs tangled in the sheets and stumbling, causing you to giggle. He darts out the room, not bothering to put pants on, answering the door in his boxers.  

You quickly get up to pee and take your meds before he gets back. Just as you get settled back in bed, Bucky comes in with a try. On it was a neatly arranged breakfast from your favorite breakfast place down the road. You don’t eat there often, not wanting to spend a fortune for just two people, no matter how good said food was.  

You gasp softly and sit up so he can place the tray over your lap.  

“Oh Bucky,” you sigh. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for my birthday girl,” he sat down next to you on the bed and kissed your forehead. “Dig in, baby.”  

You start shoveling food in your mouth, moaning at the taste. You of course share your special breakfast after learning he hadn’t ordered anything for himself. He denied, of course. But after a few empty threats he agreed and started to eat.  

You were full by the time your ADHD meds kicked in. Bucky took the tray away and you curled back up, ready to go back asleep. 

“Oh no ma’am you don’t,” he said, pulling the blankets off you. “You need to get ready. Nat and Wanda will be here at nine, which is-” he checks the clock. “-In 40 minutes.” 

You huff and pout. “Can’t we just stay in bed?” You bite your lip and run your hands down his chest, the muscles tensing the lower you go. He stops your movements right as your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers.  

“As much fun as that sounds, you have a big day today, so up you go.” He effortlessly lifts you out of the bed. 

You laugh and start to get ready. You dress in the blue jeans that hug your hips and thighs just right and make Bucky’s knees weak. You put a white fluffy sweater and thick heeled black boots on. While you brush your teeth Bucky braids your hair, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he focuses.  

By the time you were ready the girls were out there waiting. With a kiss to your lips and his card in your hands because, it’s your birthday and I wanna treat you. You were off. You went shopping, got your hair and nails done, the works.  

You had an amazing day, the most fun in too long. By the time you were done you were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to take a hot bubble bath with Bucky and have a little fun in bed. But of course, he had other plans.  

As you, Natasha, and Wanda walked into yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, shopping bags in hand. It was abnormally dark, confused you turned on the lights and screamed, Natasha recording the whole thing. 

“SURPRISE!!” Everyone yelled and laughed at your reaction. All the Avengers were there, even Thor. Clint, his wife and kids, Sam and Steve, Tony and Pepper, even T’Challa and Shuri were there, everyone was there. 

But what caught your eye was the big, grinning goofball standing in the middle of it all holding a ‘happy birthday’ sign.  

“Did you do this?” You laugh. He nods and you hug him. He wraps his arm around you, the other holding the sign. ��Thank you” 

“You’re welcome, doll,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. 

“Alright,” Tony claps his hands together. “Let's get this party started!” He pulls out two bottles of Whiskey.  

“Tony no-” 

“Tony yes!” He interrupts Steve. 

After a few glasses of Whiskey, many chimichangas, courtesy of Deadpool. A piece of cake, and many, many expensive and one-of-a-kind gifts later. You stood in the corner watching all of your friends family dance and party. You felt very grateful to be a part of this chaotic bunch of people.  

Bucky comes up next to you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist, tipsy from the Asgardian mead Thor and Loki had brought.  

“Hey doll,” he slurs. “Did you have a good birthday?”  

You nod. “I did, yes,” I smile. “Thank you, baby.”  

“The night’s not over yet,” he wiggles his eyebrows, a knowing smirk on his face.  

“James!” You scold playfully. “We have guests over!”  

“They won’t notice, come on.” He was already leading you to the bedroom. “Just 30 minutes.” 

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, not bothering to hide your smile. “But only 30 minutes.”  

“Scouts honor,” he grins.  

45 minutes later... 

“Where is Bucky and Y/N?” Steve asks.  

“Fucking like the rabbits they are,” Tony slurs, absolutely hammered. Steve chokes on his drink, turning red.  

People say that birthdays and holidays get less fun as you get older, but with Bucky, you couldn’t wait to see what he was gonna do next. 

[0oolookitsme]

It's Buzzcut Season, Anyways!

Eeeeekk!!!! Hi Hi everyone!! I hope you are all doing well, here comes the first post of the year! <3

So.. It is my birthday today, and I'm very excited to tell you that I'm introducing to you, another one of my pairings! This a little excerpt from the fic (wip) I'm writing about this chaotic pairing, and I really do hope this gets you as excited about their story, as I am! This was supposed to be up in December but for some reason, I didn't post it?? Anyways, other than that, you shall see more, further on in 2024 :)

Also, shoutout to @cupid-styles and @elioslover for picking my ice hockey!Harry to be the one to get a buzzcut, hahah! My indecisive self (who lowkey wanted you guys to pick him), could've never 💗

All the love always, A.

Verse - NHL Player!Harry x Figure Skater!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - It's just an excerpt so it's short!

Warnings - None that I can find but if there are any, do tell me and I'll edit them into this!

Y/n is reluctantly trimming Harry's hair when her nose feels funny, and she sneezes. Its good though, that Harry asks for her opinion regarding a change that he would rather appreciate.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

Y/n sat on her unmade bed, hair unbrushed and messy since she woke up from a 3-hour nap. Her fingers typed away on her laptop, her face showing zero signs of any stress regarding the assignment she's going to have to turn in un-edited.

Probably because of the breakdown she'd had before taking nap. She'd been so stressed that she had drawn blood from her lips and broken two of her nails -- which was rather disappointing to her considering she'd got them done not so long ago in the honour of the upcoming season of winter.

The temperature was still as hot as summer, but half of the world was snowed in, and she wanted the peace of mind that winter brought her; so, she deluded herself into thinking that it was indeed her favourite time of the year.

A silent burp made its way up her throat, as she drank the day-old diet coke she'd been drinking before her meltdown-that-leads-to-an-amazing-nap.

Just as she slurped on the last sip that wasn't anything but melted ice, she heard the door to the flat open and her eyes rose up just in time to catch the sight of a sweaty and out of breath Harry, through the open door of her room.

"Y/n?" He called for her, walking towards her room when she only hummed in response. He passed her an apologetic smile on reaching her doorframe, and she knew he was going to ask something of her that the both of them know she wouldn't be willing to do quite easily.

"I need your help," he grinned at her. "...And Immediately."

She looked at him suspiciously, before deciding to shift her focus back on her assignment, knowing that he would lure her in if she were to continue looking at him.

But Harry was at once kneeling beside the side of bed she was sitting on. With his hands joined, he contorted his face in a way that looked like he was about to cry. "I beg of you, please! If you don't help me right now, my life will be ruined forever!"

Y/n's eyes had fallen into untrusting slits by now as she minimized the document that she had been writing in. "What is it, Harry?" She asked him in a monotonous tone, shutting her laptop as if procrastinating the essay any longer would be a great help.

"Cut my hair."

Instantly her jaw dropped open. Shaking her head, she began reopening her laptop and Harry took a hold of her wrists. "Harry, there's no way!" She yelped as he began making her get off the bed.

"I'm not asking you to give me haircut like Zayn!" He exclaimed, as if that'd ease her. "Just trim it a bit," he shrugged, walking out into the small living-room with Y/n thrashing behind him. She even threw a few hands at him, but he had a feeling that she wasn't as opposed by the idea as she was pretending to.

He pulled out a chair in front of the mirror that, though they had been living in this flat for nearly two months, had yet to be pinned to the wall. "C'mon, you work at a salon -- surely you know how to trim a guy's hair," he teased her, knowing that questioning her abilities would get to her and she'd cut his hair better than any hairdresser ever could.

Looking at her reflection glaring at him through the mirror, he winked at her before bending down to unzip his bag. He pulled out an electric trimmer from inside it and handed it to her, pulling the towel from the coffee table that he had left there earlier in the morning.

Once done draping it over his shoulders, he handed her the trimmer and added a touch of his puppy-dog eyes even though he knew they simply don't work on her.

"Okay. If you end up bald, don't complain then," she grumbled before running her hand through his hair. "Is this sweat or did you wash your hair after practice?" Her face was already contorted in disgust, like she knew he surely couldn't have done the latter.

"Don't you worry, I washed it after practice," he assured her, looking at her as if she should appreciate him.

She turned on the trimmer and held his hair in sections by one of her hands. "Why didn't you go to a salon?" She asked him, trimming the hair on his sides with her mouth parted.

Harry shrugged and immediately retorted when Y/n shrieked, mumbling an apology. "The salon's too far. I don't have the time to get there; got a handful of assignments to turn in before midnight." He told her. "And I mean, saving some money never hurt anyone."

"You do realize that I've put doing my assignment on pause to do this silly shenanigan with you?" Her eyebrows rose up as she fired another question at him. She suppressed a smile when he passed a dimpled-lopsided grin to her. "God, I hate you," she said, and a smile slipped on her lips as she moved to the other side to trim the rest of his hair.

She had no reason to be doing a parttime job at a salon, it wasn't going to help her in the future in any way, but it did help her in the present with its money. The money she got by being apprenticed to a dance company went straight into the flat-bills and some other necessary purchases that she couldn't avoid.

But she wasn't complaining about it. Living among frat people was a nightmare for her. She did have fun with people but being a clean-freak and a morning person didn't match well with the frats. They did love her dearly, but when Harry came in asking if someone would be willing to be his flat mate, everyone had chanted for Y/n. And, when he asked Y/n at the rink, she had quite literally jumped at the opportunity and in the joy of the moment, hugged Harry with a tight grip that still had his heartbeat rise whenever he thought about it.

With her touching his hair, Harry's heart was beating so hard in his chest that he was afraid it was going to break a rib. His eyes never once left her reflection in the mirror, not with the way she was being so careful and serious. Her lips had parted without her knowing, and she wasn't even blinking often enough.

That was when Harry saw a hair-strand fall in her face, and her face scrunch up in a way it does when she's about to sneeze. He saw as she turned to sneeze in her elbow -- a habit that she still hadn't gotten rid of. He shifted his gaze down on his hands in his lap, to prevent her catching him staring at her.

When Y/n caught her breath after the sneeze, her eyes grew wide. Her hand began shaking as she brought the other hand to cover her mouth, looking at his head in horror. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or begin spewing apologies and decided on the latter one.

But as she opened her mouth, Harry looked at her. "Should I just buzz it off?" He questioned her and thought that she had paled at the thought of him going bald. "I mean, the match season is finally over. I don't have anything to do but study, do my parttime and of course practice hockey." He shrugged explaining his point of view, looking at her to help him decided.

"S-sure! I mean, you'd look good with any-any type of haircut." She was shaking and stuttering, but Harry was too lost in his train of thoughts to question her. "A-and its buzzcut season, anyways!"

That seemed to be helpful for Harry. He smiled at her, "Shave it off, then. I'm basically on vacation from tomorrow... and I guess I'd really appreciate a change like this!" He was back to grinning and Y/n's sweat was beginning to cool off.

She imagined sitting with Harry on a sofa on some ordinary-night with her feet in his lap like he were her closest friend and telling him about today -- a movie playing on the lowest volume possible in the background. She stopped herself before she could get lost thinking about his reaction and mess up even his buzzcut.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Reading & Leeds AU Imagine

Summary: You meet four teenage lads at Leeds Fest in 2007 who change your life forever.

Warnings: Swearing. Vulgar language. Small shite section of smut. One use of y/n near the end. I nearly used my own name but then you can just imagine your own x

Author's Note: Here is the Leeds Fest AU that I've been going on about since the idea popped into my head the morning after I went to Leeds nearly two months ago. I don't think it's very good, definitely not my best work but it's finished I don't have to think about it anymore! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Now got to find motivation to finish my other WIPS that I've abandoned!

Word Count: 6.4K Words

You thought you knew what proud was; there were many moments in your life that you could recall where you felt immense proudness for the four men that made up your best friends. The day they rang you to tell you they had signed their record deal, the day their first EP was released, the day their debut album went to number one, when they sold out Madison Square Garden, the day they first played Reading and Leeds, the first time they headlined Reading and Leeds. The list was endless.

But there was something about the way you felt today that surpassed all of that. Here you were at the side of the main stage at Leeds Festival about to watch your boys headline the festival that started it all. The 1975 was ringing out across the field, the kids were screaming and your heart was hammering in your chest in time with George’s drums as he kicked off The City to the delight of the crowd.

A celebration of the album that they dreamed of making when you met them. A celebration of the album that soundtracked not only the lives of their fans but yours and theirs too. A celebration of the band and every beautiful thing they had achieved in the past ten years surrounded by those they loved and those who loved them the most.

You had told Matty that you were unsure you’d make it today due to a work situation that had popped up which had sent him into a tizzy this morning because you had never missed a performance of theirs at Leeds, despite being at Reading with them just the night before but you couldn’t cancel this important meeting in London called by your manager late last night when you returned from Reading and you weren’t sure if you’d make it in time to see them back up North.

“But you have to be there darling. This is our thing!”He had huffed, as you reached for him and pulling him into your arms as you went to say goodbye.“Leeds is ours! Not Reading. Leeds! You have to be there.” He huffed.

He made your heart hurt as his lip quivered as he watched you hug the other boys and the thought of him being upset made you even more determined to make sure you were side of that stage in time for the opening bars of The City.

You watched as he ran about the stage, singing his little heart out. The kids screaming the words to The City back at the band. George had already sent you a smirk from his seat behind the box knowing fine well Matty would lose his shit when he clocked eyes on you. You looked out towards the audience; the excitement on their faces as they sung every word before turning to look back at your boys. Your hand immediately reaching to touch  your box tattoo that sat on your thumb (matching with your friend behind the drum kit) as your heart soared with happiness for them. 

When you looked up you found Ross with his eyes on you. A soft smile on his handsome face, your eyes locked on to one another for a brief moment that was abruptly interrupted by the roar of applause from the fans when the first song came to an end. 

Bringing your hands to your mouth you cheered as loudly as you could; your laugh a sound Matty would recognise anywhere had him snapping his head in your direction. The moment he clapped eyes on you; he was beaming! His eyes bright and his smile even brighter knowing his best friend had made it. Pointing at you with a cheeky grin, he pulled the mic to his mouth quickly so you could hear him.

“Fucking knew you’d make it darling! This one is for you!” He announced as the intro to M.O.N.E.Y (one of your favourites) started up to more roars of noise.  

2007

Leeds Festival was directly sewn into the DNA of your friendship with the group of teenage boys who went on to be the band The 1975. Having being the place you had met all those many moons ago when headlining the festival was only a dream for them. Now they were about to headline the festival for the third time in four years and proud didn’t even cut it for how you felt for those boys.

You weren’t sure how your life would have turned out if you hadn’t met them the summer of 2007 or if you had simply set up your tent next to somebody else but you were forever grateful for your cousin and “friends" (at the time) for dragging you along because your life was enriched in every aspect because of them.

Trekking through the fields to find your camp sight was proving difficult when your cousin and his mates were pissing about and collectively had about two braincells between them. So you took it upon yourself to march ahead and find the nearest available space and dumping your tent and rucksack on the ground to reserve the spot.

“Oi dickheads! Over here!” You shouted towards the direction of your idiot cousin.

Waiting for him; his two mates and the girlfriends of said friends, who I guess you could call your friends too to make their way over. You took a look around at your neighbours for the next four days. Next to you was a group of teenage boys who were setting up their tents, the one setting up their little camping stove looked up at you at your outburst. God he was pretty you thought as you took in his casual appearance.

“You mind if we grab this spot?”

“Not at all love. Matty.” He held out his hand as he introduced himself.

Shaking his hand; you introduced yourself with a polite smile before shimmying your tent out of it’s bag as your cousin and his pals all appeared, dumped their stuff on the floor before announcing they were going to explore. Therefore leaving you to look after their shit and to attempt to put up your tent by yourself. After ten minutes, several failed attempts and numerous curses towards your absent cousin when the rest of your neighbours appeared.

The tall, dark and handsome one introduced himself first.

“Hi, I’m Ross. You need a hand with that?” 

When you turned to look at him; he was wearing jeans and a hoodie and a soft smile on his face. Nodding at his offer, you explained about your useless cousin and that you didn’t have great hopes for the weekend given that he had already fucked off.

“Don’t worry you can chill with us. They’re pretty useless too but we get by!” He chuckled; nodding in the direction of his mates. “That’s Adam, but we call him Hann and that’s George.” He grinned as you waved at his equally cute mates.

It was as simple as that. You barely spoke to your cousin that weekend. Just let your friendly neighbours cart you around the festival, getting drunk with them and letting them hoist you up on their shoulders as you watched multiple acts that weekend. During your down time, you sat around the campfire and got to know one another. You found out they were from not far from you in Manchester, they were all around the same age, they were all single apart from Hann. And they found out that you really did hate your cousin’s mates and you were newly single after your boyfriend of two years cheated on you and that you were hoping to go to uni to study music.

Giddily telling you that they were all in a band together as you revealed this information; you listened to Matty ramble on about what he wanted to do with his best friends and where he wanted the band to go in terms of their career and you couldn’t help but watch him earnestly as he spoke so passionately about it. Leaning on your knees; you rested your face in the palm of your hands as you listened intently, wrapped up in the jumper Ross had leant you as the evening grew cold with a smile on your face.

It was refreshing to listen to a teenage boy talk with so much passion about something instead whatever shit your cousin and his mates were chatting shite about, you couldn’t even stand to converse with the girlfriends it was that bad. You think you’d have let him pull you around this muddy park and talk your ear off all night that’s how much you enjoyed his company.

The last night of the festival; off the back of the giddiness of watching the Red Hot Chilli Peppers with the boys and screaming your favourite lyrics back at the band from your spot upon George’s shoulders. You giddily jumped into Matty’s arms when you dismounted the drummer and let him slip his hand in yours as you all made your way back towards your campsite.

You lost the rest of the boys at some point within the masses of people; so you took your time making your way back, swinging your arms between one another and spinning each other round. You were so happy! You arrived three days ago in a bit of a mood if you were being honest that your brother hadn’t been able to come with you and you were stuck with those imbeciles but the boys in your neighbouring tents truly had made your entire experience worth it.

So when Matty pulled you to a stop as you neared your respective tents; George’s laugh could be heard from where you had stopped and swept a piece of fallen hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek in his hand with a soft mutter of, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Before leaning down and closing the gap between the two of you. You melted into him.

When his lips connected with yours; you immediately reciprocated his actions, allowing him to pull you in close and kiss you like you were the air he needed to breath. You weren’t entirely sure how long you were kissing in the middle of the campsite though but you pulled away giggling, beaming brightly when you saw Matty grinning back at you. Feeling brave you pushed yourself up to peck his lips again before pulling him towards your destination, past all his friends who were hooted and hollered when they caught onto to where you guys were off to but you didn’t care because you wanted reckless, you wanted to feel something, you wanted fun.

And ohhhh was Matty fun!

He was gentle in the way he brushed your hair from your face as you kissed down his stomach before pulling his already hard cock out. His grip tight in holding your hair in a ponytail so it was away from your face as you kissed the tip before licking a stripe underneath all the way from his balls until you enveloped the tip in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks you took him in as he groaned underneath you, his moans encouraging you to continue as you let him continuously hit the back of your throat.

It wasn’t long before his grip tightened in your hair and he was cumming in your mouth; swallowing everything he gave you, you pulled off his cock with a pop before he was attacking your mouth with his own as he dived on top of you.

“God going to be thinking about your mouth for years sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin before returning the favour.

2013

It had been a good several years since your last visit to Leeds Festival but thankfully it hadn’t been that long since you last saw the boys you met in the neighbouring tent during your first time there. After you packed up your tents the next morning you vowed to stay in touch with them, exchanging numbers with all the boys and promises of drinks when you were both home etc not really expecting much of it because they were teenage boys.

A hour after you returned home, your phone buzzed as messages flooded your inbox from Matty and George, Ross & Adam respectively although they weren’t as persistent as Matthew. You met up with Matty the next weekend, he drove up to see you in Manchester and you made out in the back of his car like the horny teenagers you were. You never slept with Matty during your brief time together but you both got very acquainted with one another on the couple of occasions you did meet up alone.

It wasn’t long after that you decided you were better off as friends and you didn’t mix business with pleasure again! Much to Matty’s disappoint after all he was a man and they only think with their cocks anyway. You continued being friends, you went to their gigs (even when you were the only one there), they visited you at uni, they celebrated your first big writing gig, you celebrated the release of their EPs. You celebrated everything together no matter how big or small.

You truly were the best of friends so when they rang you one afternoon whilst you were in the studio writing, you couldn’t even get out a “Guys you’re on a speaker, I’m just in the studio” before they were all screaming down the phone about their news that they had been asked to play at Leeds.

“That’s fucking insane! I’m so proud of you. Congratulations!”  

“You have to be there babe! We can’t do this without you!” Matty screamed down the phone.

“Yeah we can’t play Leeds without our number one girl can we?” Ross’ voice could be heard next, at a normal decibel, obviously.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Is what you told them and you stuck to your word as you watched Matty pace nervously before they were about to step onstage to a large crowd of people eager to see them perform.

“Matty.” You called out for him as he chewed his thumb nail, ignoring you. “Matthew!” You  raised your voice loud enough to get his attention finally on you, “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been buzzing all week to finally perform at Leeds. What’s changed?”

“Nervous.”

Your heart stopped as you took your friend’s nervous appearance in as you stopped in front of him and grabbing both his hands in your own. “I’ve never known you to be nervous ever. These people are here to see you, they’ve chosen you over any other tent or stage. They want to see my four best friends because you’re fucking brilliant, okay?” You told him firmly, squeezing his hands supportively, hoping to get through to him.

“Okay.” He smiled softly at you.

“Now what can I do to help with these nerves of yours?”

You asked innocently (of course) but Matty’s eyes lit up; a smirk dancing across his pretty features before lowing his gaze to his crotch. Pulling your hands from his in disgust you looked at him disapprovingly. “Eww gross. I’m not blowing you!”

“Baby please.” He whined; nipping at your waist as he attempted to pull your body into his own and holding you against him.

Looking over your shoulder; you cast glance at the other boys who were watching the interaction. Hann rolled his eyes at you, Ross was shaking his head as he sunk back his beer. George merely smirked; shrugging his shoulders as if to say it wasn’t a bad idea.

“If it takes care of the nerves.” George spoke.

“Ohh I’ll blow all of you then shall I?” You sassed back.

“If you’re offering?” George grinned.

“G don’t be fucking gross. I’m not touching any of you!” You laughed shortly. “Just do some tequila and get out there before I leave before you get the chance to even pick up a pair of drumsticks!”  You threatened.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stood side of stage and watched as the boys were belting out the tunes to an enthusiastically drunk crowd who were loving life. Ross turned to look at you during chocolate; a look of pure disbelief that the hundreds strong crowd knew every single word. You shook your head with a chuckle, teary eyes and a bright smile because you absolutely could believe they would know every single word because your boys were fucking brilliant and they deserved every single second of it.

As the set came to a close to a rapturous applause; Matty turned to catch your eye with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen before running towards you and jumping into your arms and gripping you so tight, you thought you’d be catapulted backwards if it wasn’t for Ross holding on to both of you. A high squeal leaving your lips as Matty assaulted your face with kisses like an excited puppy dog before pressing his lips to your own. 

You were so proud of him you didn’t have it in you to scold him for it.

2019

The noise that came out of your mouth when the boys told you they had been asked to headline Leeds Fest 2019 can only be described as unhinged! Probably wishing they had told you over face time, Adam the unlucky sod who happened to be stood next to you the moment you found out and nearly had his arm ripped out the socket as you jumped up and down with pure excitement before pulling him into the biggest hug you could muster before jumping a top of George and pressing a lingering kiss to Ross’ cheek before you launched yourself at Matty and squeezing him so tight like it would be the last thing you ever did.

You partied hard that night, celebrating everything they had achieved in order to get to headlining that one place that you all held so dear to your hearts. They say people hold sentimental places that remind you of loved ones close to them, it just so happened that; that muddy field just outside of Leeds was what meant the most to the five of you because it’s where you found one another. It’s where you finally felt whole once they stumbled into your life.

So when Matty drunkly proclaimed “We’ve got to have you with us sweetheart! It’s tradition. You’re our good luck charm!” Loudly down your ear, whilst draping himself over your shoulder in an attempt to stay standing.

Not that you would say no but who were you to ever deny your best friend’s wishes. Especially when they were finally getting to do the one thing they told you they wanted to do together when you first met them all those years ago and the fact they wanted you by their side meant more than anything. 

And here you were backstage at Leeds fest waiting for your best friends in the entire world to go and blow the socks off the festival. You were stood next to Matty who was fidgeting so much it was starting to concern you how nervous he actually was about the headlining slot. Slipping your spare hand into his; your other was wrapped around Ross’ as he conversed with Hann, you pulled away from the bassist so you could talk with the singer more privately.

Pulling Matty away from their crew; you took his hand softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth across the back of it in hopes of soothing his nerves. Matty didn’t say a word but he couldn’t stand still. You pulled on his hand tighter and towards you so you were in each other’s personal space.

“Darling what’s wrong?”

“Just fucking nervous. A lot of people out there.” His nervous chuckle reaching your ears before he started chewing on his thumb nail. 

Slapping his hand away from his mouth, you pulled on both of his hands tightly and made sure that he was looking right at you as spoke.

“When has that ever stopped you going out their and being brilliant before, ehh? You have wanted this for so so long. For as long as I’ve known you. You deserve this so much babe, more than anyone else I know. Do you want to know a little secret?” You watched his curls bounce as he nodded at your words. “When I met you, you told me all about your plans for the band. Told me you were going to headline Leeds Fest one day and in that moment I knew that I liked the shit of you! Thought it was so hot that you were so driven and so passionate about something. And look at you now. Three number one albums. Biggest band in the world and about to do the one thing you told me you were going do when we met twelve years ago. All those people out there choose to come and see you because they love you. I love you.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“That’s what you took from that?” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s what I do best!” He shrugged; pulling you into his arms. “So you going to blow me after this too?” He whispered saying in your ear; as he hugged you tightly.

“You’re so fucking annoying!” You pulled out of his embrace, “You’d be fucking lucky Healy! I’m more likely to blow Hann than you again babe!” You threw him a smirk; so he knew you were joking about his best mate.

“Wait, who’s blowing Hann?” George asked; appearing with Ross and Hann with what could only be impeccable timing.

“Me! Told Healy I’m more likely to blow Hann after your performance than go near his cock again!” You told them casually with a shrug and throwing Adam a wink as the guitarist shook his head with an embarrassed chuckle. “Just a little pep talk and Matthew was being Matthew about the situation!”

“Well if you’re offering up blowies! I’m always down!” George threw his hand up like he was volunteering with a massive grin on his face as he nudged Adam in the ribs who also had a stupidly large grin on his face as they teased you.

“You’re all so fucking annoying which is why the only person I’d be considering to blow is Ross because currently he’s the only one with manners! Now fuck off and blow the socks off the fans!”  You grinned; shoving them in the direction of the stage. Throwing your own arm around Ross’ waist, Matthew’s around your own as you all ascended on the stage, your heart pounding as you watched them walk out to rapturous applause. The feral screams growing louder between each song and you knew that you had never been prouder of anyone in your life than your best friend’s living their dreams.

2023

You had never loved George Daniel more than the day he turned round and introduced you to his new girlfriend because you gained a best for life in the absolutely wonderful and insanely beautiful Charli XCX. You loved her plain and simple! Never was a more selfless girl; you needed anything and she was by your side and offering you her hand, you needed a hype man she was the girl for the job or you just needed a little retail therapy and a bottle of wine, Charli would be at your door ready to go so when it was announced that she was going to be playing Leeds Festival just as the boys were about to embark on their new era. You knew you would be by her side cheering her on and going an absolute feral for that babe of woman! And when the boys were announced as the replacement headliners you could have burst!

Charli was set to perform her set just before the lads were so you knew your evening was going to be chaotic but you couldn’t wait but when she asked you to be by her side and during your favourite song. As flabbergasted as you were by the offer, you couldn’t really say no. When would you ever get the chance to perform at Leeds Festival again? Never!

But it was the way your best friends eyed you from side of stage; clad in an identical leather outfit to Charli’s that left nothing to the imagination. You felt a large calloused hand weave it’s way into your own and squeeze tightly, whispering a soft; “You’ve got this darling.” Before pressing a kiss to your temple just as Charli announced your entrance just as Rina’s verse of Beg For You was about to start.

“I want to introduce you to my best friend to the stage for the next song. She’s a bit shy so please be nice but she’s fucking incredible. Welcome to the stage y/n!”

What happened after you stepped on stage was all some sort of blur, you couldn’t really remember all that much apart from the video that Matty (and the rest of the band) recorded of you from the side of stage, the boys all screaming as you ran off stage and jumping into the nearest pair of arms, which just so happened to be Ross’. The adrenaline that coursed through you then seeped into watching the boys’ set and into the after party. Where you and Charli were necking back the tequila like it was water and had you dancing on the tables and grinding on anyone you could get your hands on. 

Nobody was safe from you and Charli’s feral behaviour that evening as you celebrated your friend’s wins and that included your best friend who you had taken to making out with, pulling him into a several kisses that seemed to get more erotic as the night went on much to the shock and then immediate thrill of your friends as they squealed and cheered on your behaviour every single time like you weren’t potentially jeopardising fifteen years of friendship with Ross just because you were on a high and feeling a little giddy. 

You were also a woman with eyes!

Something nobody was doing the morning after as you all travelled back to London with your tail between your legs and pounding headaches. Attempting to sleep it off on the drive home, you rested your head against Hann’s shoulder and tried to block out Matty’s talking, something that you were usually quite good at but to no avail when you felt like you were in about to slip into a tequila induced coma. 

By the time you got back to London and to your respective locations; you felt yourself being nudged awake before being gently pulled away from Hann who sweetly pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as Ross got out of the van before pulling you sleepily into your apartment building. No words were exchanged between the two of you as he unlocked your shared apartment or whilst he made you both a cuppa. You couldn’t decide if it was because he was just as horrifically hungover as you or because of what transpired between the two of you the night before and didn’t know how to act around you now because you had well and truly fucked everything up.

You never spoke about it. Just carried on as normal just as you and Matty did fifteen years prior and you thought you had done a pretty good job at acting normal too. You carried on sharing your flat and cohabiting as if it didn’t happen and then he went off to America for the start of At Their Very Best. Then once you were reunited on his return home from tour you thought that everything would be fine but it seemed that your emotions or seemingly your hormones were supercharged and all the lingering touches and sweet exchanges that usually came with your relationship had all come to a head about two weeks before they were due to headline Leeds fest again.

Whilst the boys had been on tour and doing the festival circuit during the summer you had taken to dating again. You use the term dating very loosely you had been on a handful of dates with one guy, a producer friend of Charli’s. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him due to the busy nature of your careers but you were supposed to be heading on another date with him tomorrow and you were ready to take it to the next level. 

Stood in front of your full length mirror you admired the intricate white lace of the lingerie that donned your tanned skin wondering if Patrick would like it or not when your bedroom door burst open. Not hearing his heavy footsteps approach as you stood in next to nothing; you jumped in fright, as an also topless Ross was now looking at you with a startled expression on his handsome face.

“Babe have you seen my favourite ju … jumper” He stuttered as he stopped and drunk in your appearance. “Ehhh why are you? Why ehhh? I mean why?” He was gesturing towards your lingerie clad body.

“I have a date tomorrow.” Your voice quiet but Ross heard it; your eyes just as wide as his when you took in his own appearance. Grey joggers, bare chest, hair tied up in a bun and the bastard cursive tattoo of your initial, that still makes your stomach flip every time you see it, etched into the skin near his left collarbone.

Ross simply nodded in response, not knowing what else to say. Noting that as his eyes travelled up your legs, over the tiny bit of delicate fabric that was covering your modesty, up to how your tits sat gloriously in the white lace, he noticed it. He noticed as you stood in the best set of lingerie he’d ever seen on anyone ever, that right there balancing in between your tits on a dainty gold chain was the necklace with a small ‘R’ on it. 

Without another word said between the pair of you; he turned with a curt nod of his head without getting his answer knowing fine well that it would be somewhere in your room. But he had plenty of other jumpers he could wear. He just needed to just get out of there before he made a tit of himself. Heading straight back to his room across the hall, he paced his bedroom floor in hopes of getting the image of you stood in your underwear out of his head before he got a problem, not knowing that across the hall you were staring at his retreating figure unsure of what to do.

Picking up your phone you sent an apologetic text to Patrick to let him know the date was cancelled before chucking your phone amongst your pillows and marching across the hallway. Just as you reached up your arm to knock; Ross’ bedroom door was ripped off its hinges and stalling you, both of your chests heaving as you came face to face. Neither of you choosing to cover yourselves up in the moments you were apart.

Looking up at him; you caught sight of the gold chain he’d been wearing recently sitting against the chest hair that littered his toned chest before your eyes drifted to the left. Your heart tripling in speed knowing you were etched on his skin forever. Ross’s eyes immediately went back to your tits, not in a weird way even if they did look glorious in the white lace but the golden ‘R’ that sat between them.

Returning your gaze to his face; you weren’t entirely sure how long you were staring at each other before you surged towards one another in a flurry of pent up tension as you pawed at one another. Your hands immediately gripping at his hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to groan into your mouth. His hands gripping your ass as he pulls you flushed against him. Your mouths pressed together as you snogged like it was the last thing you guys would ever do before Ross was slamming his bedroom door and throwing you on the bed and staring at you like you were the best thing he had ever seen. And you were.

Your night of passion with Ross happened two weeks ago and whilst he had gone back to work leaving you at home and to do your own job. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it. It was affecting your studio time and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself. You brushed past one another briefly whilst he nipped home to quickly put a wash on in between packing again before heading to Reading and Leeds. But you didn’t speak to one another in the van on the way down. Opting to talk with George about a new track idea he had been thinking about and he wanted your opinion on how to set it up lyrically.

When you got to Reading. The boys were rushed off for a quick sound check whilst you milled about backstage, getting drinks and greeting over artists you knew from work so you didn’t really get the chance to to talk to him. Then they were on stage. Then it was the after party. Then you were hungover and telling a sad looking Matty that you weren’t sure you could make it due to a work thing and sending them all on their way as you tried not to cry at the sadness in your best friend’s eyes as he looked at you like a sad puppy from the car window with pout on his face.

As you were sat in your meeting about an important contract working with an incredible artist on her next album. You caught yourself completely zoned out and thinking about him again. Over the course of all the the times you found yourself thinking about your night with Ross over the past week; you tried to figure out if it was because it was just because the tension had finally snapped with living under close quarters again after your multiple kisses or because it quite literally the best sex you’ve ever had or because under all of that, it was your Ross.

Your Ross. Your sweet best friend who helped you out any and every situation that you found yourself in, the person who hyped you up and celebrated your wins with you, the person who surprised you with your initial tattooed onto his skin because he just loved you so much he wanted you with him forever. Who then turned round and told you he never wanted you to feel pressured to do the same so gifted you the most beautiful gold necklace with his own on, you’ve never taken it off.

The person who when he come home from tour; buys you flowers as a welcome home surprise and displays them on your dining room table. The person who buys you little nicknacks when he’s abroad because it reminds him of you and thinks you’d love it. As you let your brain mull over this information whilst your manager went over the boring bits of the deal, you realised he was your person and you needed to get Leeds and you needed to get up North to him now. Pulling the ‘emergency’ card, you left your manger to to take any important notes and you darted out of the building, texting your driver to meet you out the front asap before you were speeding out of London and heading to the place that started it all.

You raced up North to get to the festival and just about managing to get there in one piece. Flinging your weekend bag in their green room; you went to run back out when something caught your eye, Ross’ hoodie from the last night. Pulling it over your head; a complete dress on you and covering your own outfit, you quickly untucked you necklace so it proudly displayed on top, you ran towards the main stage as you heard end of your song as George’s launched into to The City. You had just about made it; as you weaved in and out of the crowds of people to get to the side of stage at lightening speed.

Squeezing through the bodies of the crew who were littered backstage you fell into step with Jamie who was filming the boys. Their manager quickly wrapped you up in a side hug with a large grin and a happy “Glad you could make it!” Before turning his attention back to the band.

George was the first person to notice you, sending you a quick wink as you blew him a kiss with a beaming smile. Ross was the next person to spot you; his eyes softening as he took in your appearance before Matty was excitedly shouting you out.

“Fucking knew you’d make it darling! This one is for you!” He announced as the intro to M.O.N.E.Y started up to more roars of noise.

It might have been pure accidental that you ended up next to a rowdy group of teenage boys on that August weekend in 2007. But my god are you happy you did! Not because they were the biggest band in the world but because the five of you had seen every single one of your wins and your losses, they championed you on every new endeavour and had your back through thick and thin. You didn’t care about Matty writing songs about your blowjob skills because you were happily screaming the words back to him now. You cared that he was happy, that they all were and they knew they were fucking loved.

Which you finally realised you did. You fucking loved your best friend and as Ross turned to look at you whilst doing his little two step whilst Matty serenaded the crowd with I’m in Love with You, he really took in your appearance. Thigh high boots and his black hoodie he wore to Reading last night that covered you like a dress and the bastard golden R that was sitting over the top of the neck of the jumper, your hand pressed over the top as you made eye contact with him and beaming brightly at him, he felt his heart skip and triple in speed. He needed to tell you and he needed to tell you now.

So the second About You finished and he had said goodbye to the crowd. He was throwing his bass at Joel and was marching straight towards you, grabbing you by the jaw and smashing his mouth against your own. Melting into his touch you kissed the bassist back as the rest of friends joined you.

“I love you.”  Ross breathed out in between kisses.

“Ohhh thank fuck because I really fucking love you too!”  You told him; pulling him back to your lips as you gripped on to hair at the bottom of his bun tightly as your boys hollered around you.

[bitbybitwrites]

And yet, will be more than six sentences 😂. But saw this banner and wanted to use it at least once for this month!

OK . . I haven't done one of these in FOREVER. . so my deepest apologies and many thanks for all you lovely folks who keep tagging me for this and WIP Wednesdays: @thinkof-england, @softboynick, @taste-thewaste, @onthewaytosomewhere, @tinyarmedtrex

@wordsofhoneydew , @sophie1973 , @thesleepyskipper , @forabeatofadrum, @getmehighonmagic

@daisyishedwig , @annepi-blog, @porcelainmortal , @blueeyedgrlwrites ( and I hope I remembered everyone!)

1.) I've been struggling with finishing the latest chapter of my RWRB fic, Puppy Love. It's going through the editing process and should be up soon. You'll find a bit below.

2.) I also got sent a Pride themed Glee/Klaine ask for Ficlet Friday - which is now turning out a wee bit longer than a ficlet. And there will be a snippet of it below as well.

See it all under the cut!

1.) From Puppy Love - Chp 4. (RWRB fic)

With a smirk, Alex pulled Henry down to him, internally grateful to feel the other man straddle his legs as he sat in Alex's lap. While he ran his hands up and down Henry’s thighs, Alex found his brain slightly short circuiting as he imagined himself between them with less layers on than they had now. “Fuck,” Alex gasped as he continued stroking them. “Work out much?” he teased as he gripped Henry’s legs tighter. Henry grinned as he used his teeth to graze the edge of Alex’s jaw. “Horseback riding, actually. Used to do a lot of it back home. Even polo now and then.” “Didn’t peg you for a trust fund baby,” Alex poked fun once more. He shuddered as Henry found a particularly sensitive area on his neck and bit down. “Shut up, you cretin,” Henry growled before he took possession of Alex’s mouth again.

2.) From fire island follies (a klaine/glee themed ficlet friday prompt)

“Porcelain, Starchild, White Chocolate . . who are they?” he wondered aloud. “Well, me for one.” Blaine swiveled around on his stool to find a ridiculously good looking guy in the tiniest gold booty shorts that he had ever seen staring at him from behind the bar. “I . .I’m sorry . . what?” The bartender tossed a rainbow colored bar towel over his shoulder and plunked down a glass of water in front of Blaine.  “White Chocolate.  That’s me, I’m saying.” “That’s . . a, uh. .  . .a nice name . .” The blond grinned, the body glitter shining very noticeably off his abs.   Blaine seriously tried not to stare.  He did. “Stage name.  Used to have a partner called Dark Chocolate I worked with, but he went off and got him a boyfriend who didn’t like him writhing on stage with little ole me. Jake came up with the names.  He said we were both smooth and sweet and it kind of worked cause he was, well, you know, African American and I’m . . .” he gestured again toward his glitter encrusted abs. Blaine swallowed and really didn’t stare.  Really.  He really, really didn’t.

Besides the lovely folks listed above, I'm also tagging: @gleefulpoppet, @14carrotghoul, @myheartalivewrites, @itsmaybitheway, @hkvoyage,

@little-escapist, @madas-ahatters-world, @kirakiwiwrites, @spaceorphan18, @special-bc-ur-part-of-it ,

@kurtsascot , @cryscendo, @rockitmans, @lady-divine-writes, @lilinas

and open tag for anyone who wants to jump in!

[ezziefox]

The Reason Why I Can't Move On in Writing + more depressing thoughts

I think I just realized why it's so hard for me to surpass three or four chapters max when I begin to write my new books, or why I always find myself taking a break and taking forever to get back to it, and when I do, the momentum that might've never been there in the first place is lost and I don't know where to pick back up in my WIP.

I recently became more and more aware of how much time I spend on social media. But that's not the big issue I'm talking about here. It's my attention span and my anxiety.

Addressing the Anxiety

There are a lot of things in my life that I get anxiety about, and it largely comes into play whenever I'm writing in my free time. As I still attend high school, I don't get much free time, but even in my free time I fret about how much time I have. Because when I write, I love to get lost in it, listening to my music and all. But, as a person who has a strong hatred for my school especially and nothing can ever fix that hatred (the pandemic ruined everything for me in that regards), every time I open Word or some other app to begin my writing, instead of thinking about getting lost in my work and getting in the moment and writing seamlessly like I did when I first discovered Wattpad back in the summer of 2020, I instead focus on how much time I have to write what I want to.

And because of this constant timer and thought in the back of my head, instead of getting lost in what I love to do, I am instead constantly fearful and anxious of my time running out before I have to go to bed to return to the very place that depresses and maddens me to my core. And I have nothing nor no one to blame but my own mental health. But I still can never find myself liking school to at least make myself feel better. I wish I could attend a different school, even in a different country. I really wish I could have a restart so that I can have an open mind and freeer mind to continue doing what I love.

And in times when I get endless time like I've never before like summer, that idea of endless time and "soon I'll be able to do what I want to do with no push or setbacks" quickly dries up and goes out the door. Especially when my trip is close to ending, all I can ever really think about is how much time I have left. I'd rather spend it procrastinating and "having fun" whilst still realizing that it will come to an end, rather than get lost in my writing and when I shut the computer and look up, it's time for all fun to end — the free paper is burned.

I genuinely don't know how I'm going to get through this part without a complete mind reset and change of environment. As it goes for the mind reset part, my mind will never change. Not without a significant change in my life. And I hate that. But my mind refuses to be unstuck from the place it is in now.

As for...

Addressing My Short Attention Span

Because of the aforementioned anxiety with time I addressed, I've begun to consume my media (entertainment & procrastination) in short form so that it feels like I've gotten in so much fun in such a short time that I feel satisfied. How to explain this in simpler terms?.... Well.... I'm constantly fearful and anxious of my free time ending that I convince myself it's been longer than it's truly been by watching short-form content such as YT shorts, Instagram reels, and when I watch actual full-length videos, instead of watching completely through the video, I simply listen to it for a short while, and to get the gist of it and thoughts on it, I read through the comments while watching as little of it as I need to before I quickly lose interest and go find a different video to watch.

Tonight, as I write this to save it as a draft to post tomorrow, I've been trying to fix my attention span by sitting through some of the old content I used to watch, that being documentary-type videos. It's been going well so far. I've sat through all the videos and seldom went to the comment section. I didn't skip through any of them or anything like that. However, I did stop in the middle of one video to come and write this right now. I knew I could've waited until tomorrow, but I feared I wouldn't have been able too convey the emotions of realization that I am feeling right now as well and explain it as well as I am feeling it.

——

I'm hoping that this truly is my issue, and that once I fix my attention span, I can at least get through writing more chapters, no matter how long it takes. I'm fully aware that especially once school starts back, so will the anxiety leeching itself onto me. But anything is better than nothing, right?

Sigh.

If you're just like me, or something like it, my advice to address and sort out your attention span. And if it's within your reach and capability, your anxiety too. It's these things that hold us back from accomplishing anything in life, and writing is something we wish to accomplish, so if you can, find a way to conquer them. Do what I currently can't.

All of this deeply saddens me. I don't know where to go next, if I even want to move, or what will find its way to me next. Needless to say, I don't have much hopes for the future, but at the same time I do.

I like to tell myself I always give up, and then I realize that I never truly do and it's always f*cking with me. Sometimes I wish I would just give up, because no matter how much I want things or desperately hope that some miracle will grant certain things in my life, I always end up f-cking myself over in the end. I am mentally f-cked and tired. No matter how many breaks I get, it never seems to be enough for me.

And I always want more. I get told I already have everything. It's just so much going on in my life from family, to friends, to my own mind that just constantly fucks me over and disregards me in every way. I don't want to drop any personal information regarding the people around me, so that's all I'm gonna say about that.

You know, today I realized that it's one thing: being a kid and never truly realizing how much something or someone in your life is mentally f-cking you over, versus growing older and you're only a teen and you realize it in real time as it's happening. Earlier I wished that I could just be the former: be a kid that doesn't realize the mental gravity and toll that's being taken on me as I have no one but my cousin in my life that truly understands me and went through the same experiences as me and it's mentally f_cked her too.

[tiffanyvampiremama]

Who I am and what I write.

I've had a lot of new followers lately, and I haven't really introduced myself yet. I'm Tiffany and I write fanfiction under the username Vampiremama (Or Readingmama on FF.net but I'm moving away from posting there) I have several GO fics of varying length right now. I have included some info below if you are interested in checking any of them out. I am working on a new very angsty AU that will post after my current one, so if you like dark and gritty with a HEA, stay tuned for that one as well. My Current WIP (Is finished being written and posts every Monday) Hidden Canvases : Rated E AU, Human. Enemies to lovers. Excerpt: (Aziraphale POV) Of course, a man like that would also be gifted with talent. Just another example of the world giving all the best things to the wrong people. Aziraphale tried to be a good person; he wanted to be kind and gracious. And he was. But it didn’t come naturally. It was a learned skill, and people like Crowley reminded him just how much of an effort it really was sometimes. But being kind didn’t mean being a doormat or to watch his friends be abused by callous, big-city men. Sometimes, the kindest thing he could do was to just avoid a situation. Besides, he would only have to see Crowley on Saturday mornings at his class. And even that was limited. He was only there for the summer. And maybe he wouldn’t come back.  Cake by the Ocean. A Guess the Author Prompt from the Soft Omens Discord group. 500 word limit, the prompt: Cake. Rated General Audience. Aziraphale Crowley has been hiding something from him. A Dirty Dive Bar. A very naughty one shot. A tryst in a dirty dive bar leaves our ineffables very satisfied. Rated E Excerpt:

As soon as Crowley was through the door, Aziraphale pushed him back against it. He reached and clicked the lock in place even as his lips made their way to Crowley’s. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, his surprise at the sudden change of events only throwing him off guard for a moment, and he plunged his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth. And, oh, was his tongue a revelation. Such wicked things he could do, Aziraphale thought.

Aziraphale felt his heart hammering in his chest as he broke the kiss, his hands going to Crowley’s belt.

“I thought I was the one seducing you,” Crowley said, panting, as he watched his trousers be pulled open.

“Consider me seduced, “ Aziraphale retorted with a wave of his hand as he slid down to his knees. “Although, I’m a little embarrassed at myself, those pick up lines were horrendous.” The Lies I Would Tell for You: My second Season 2 fix it. This one is longer and more angst filled compared to Mistakes Were Made. Different plot ideas, and HEA outcome. Rated E Excerpt:

Crowley sat staring at the wine glass on the table. It seemed like a right shame to water down the wine, but he needed the look of the wine to calm his nerves, trick his brain. Steady his nerves. Had it really only been a month since he and Aziraphale had started the bottle. It felt like ages ago, but every minute since Aziraphale left with The Metatron had felt like an eternity. He thought maybe after a day, Aziraphale would come to his senses. Deep down, Crowley knew that the angel would put his duty above all else. Together, they had found ways to cut the corners, but now that he was alone, Aziraphale would be by the book. It wouldn't take him long to forget. Six thousand years wasn't all that much time in the scheme of forever. 

He picked up the thermos. It hadn't been hard to get Muriel to fetch him more. They were a much easier mark than Aziraphale had been. But also less fun. He was so clever but also so curious. He was perfect. 

Crowley thought about what his existence would look like now. No Hell; he was free of that. He had Earth, and he did truly love Earth, but it was tainted now. His love of Earth was wrapped up with his love of his angel. It weaved through his life in what once felt like a beautiful vine and was now a type of cancer, eating away at everything inside of him. 

He unscrewed the lid off the thermos and topped his glass off. Steeling his nerves, he lifted his glass, his eyes swung heavenward, and he cheered.

"To the world." The Cuddle Cafe: A warm hug in fic form.(One Shot) Set during the years where they took care of Warlock. Crowley is so touch starved he stumbles into a professional cuddle cafe. Rated T Excerpt:

Like a beacon, a neon light caught his eye from a building across the street. The sign read Cuddle Cafe. Crowley stopped and stared, and then looked around him to see if anyone was staring at him staring.

It wasn’t like he could go to Aziraphale and ask for a hug. Angels didn’t hug. Hell, demons didn’t either, but here he was, feeling the need for a kind touch. He could just walk across the street and go in, get what he needed, and get out. He could even smile at the human just so they wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable.

No, it was ridiculous, Crowley thought as he found himself walking through the door.

Mistakes were Made: Rate T. A quick Season 2 fix it fic. Excerpt:

“You don’t understand. I need to speak with God,” Aziraphale demanded, but his voice went too high and it sounded more like begging. Which was probably closer to the truth.

“Do you have an appointment?” the angel asked, looking up at him from behind her desk.

“An appointment? With God? Is that a thing I can do? In that case I would like to make an appointment as soon as possible.”

“You can’t make an appointment with God,” she looked at him like he was daft. “God makes an appointment with you. Of course She hasn’t made any appointments with anyone yet, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

To Leave the Abyss

Professor Sharp hates to recognise himself in your eyes.

&

A thirty something Auror Aesop Sharp is failing to come to terms with his predicament.

This was supposed to be a part of one of my WIP. But then I got into it and thought; oof, that's heavy. So it's a standlone. Gif amateurly made by me.

Note: Sharp, Hecat and Ronen knew each other in school. Ronen was oldest, Hecat was youngest and they were in the "I hate PNB" club before it was cool.

TW: Depression, Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, swearing

Sharp wasn’t usually fond of going to the Astronomy tower - the amount of stairs! Tonight however, he felt a certain pull towards the place, and he was glad that he did. It took him a long time to finally climb that spiral staircase, but once he managed to do so, he immediately noticed that he wasn’t alone there. Standing just ahead was a student, and he didn’t even need to guess which student it was. You were shaking like a leaf, your hand holding the handle of your broom in a vice grip, and you stood with your back to him. “What do you think you’re doing here?!” he asked loudly, making you flinch violently and turn around to face him.

The look on your face terrified him, haunted him, because he knew it all too personally. That wide-eyed panic, tinged with chaos and madness. You reminded him of a wounded, caged animal and he could almost feel you considering whether to just throw your broom away and toss yourself off the tower without it.

He remembered that look so well. 

—

He saw it in his own eyes, shortly after he was released from St Mungo’s. He moved around mostly on a wheelchair, using his cane only when absolutely necessary - to dress himself, get into and out of bed, sit on the sofa, use the bathroom. He drank heavily that evening. Like he did everyday since he got home, actually. He was just washing his hands, trying to balance himself on his good leg, the strong liquor making it even more difficult, when he made the mistake of looking up. He saw himself in the mirror. He saw the look. He saw his scar, red and angry and fucking painful. He saw his face. His face was overgrown, scruffy, and his eyes were red, the circles under them so dark they were nearly purple. His hair was a mess. He was a mess. A cripple. He’ll never be able to do his job again. He’ll never see his partner again. He’ll be forever haunted by the memory of seeing her with her wife and son, together in an embrace. He lost everything. He lost everything.

The pain in his leg seared, raw and agonising, and Aesop screamed. He brought his arms up in unhinged madness and he lunged forward, bringing his fisted hands against the mirror. There was a cathartic sound of glass shattering and he nearly felt relieved when he felt pain somewhere else than his leg and face. Blood. Blood was falling freely from his shaking hands. A few hard hits later, he was covered in it. He was trembling. With a final hit, he let his head join in on breaking the mirror. He saw red. Hot wetness ran down his nose, his cheeks.

Pain. His leg cramped up and with a shout he felt it give up on him, sending him plummeting to the ground. He sat there covered in cuts, in shards, in blood. He screamed. Aesop screamed as loud and long as he could, tears streaming down his face, red from exertion. He screamed even as his throat began to hurt, screamed until he no longer physically could. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, head hung low, shards of glass all around him, some of the smaller cuts having stopped bleeding. The blood was drying up, becoming crusty. Tears still streamed down his face. He was filthy, his clothes were beyond salvation. His leg hurt like shit, so much he barely felt the glass cuts anymore. His hands were a mess. Two of his fingers were broken, protruding in odd directions. He was still shaking. 

One of his hands picked up a larger piece of what used to be his mirror. He observed the sharp edge of it. How long would it take to die if he was to slit his throat? How long would it take to bleed out like the pathetic animal he was, if he was to sever an artery. He unconsciously lifted the glass.

“Aesop Theodore Sharp, you put down that shard RIGHT NOW! ” He startled so much, he gripped it harder, cutting it into his palm. He winced and his hand released. It took a while before it hit the ground, having got stuck under his skin. Fresh blood started running down his arm.

Dinah Hecat stood before him, the look on her face terrifying. Her work injury years ago left her looking like an old woman despite being younger than him by two years. However, Aesop knew very well that she would have been able to take him on when he was in full health and strength. This was not a woman to be trifled with. “What were you thinking?!” she roared. The former unspeakable, current teacher observed him. He must’ve looked positively pitiful. “We’re going to St Mungos. You’ll be staying there until term ends, even if I’m to personally shackle you to the bed. And I won’t let you out of my sight during the summer. Aesop Sharp, heed my words, you are going to hate me before September comes!”

He didn’t argue. There was no point. He was as weak as a kitten right now and whatever Dinah wanted to do, he wouldn’t be able to stop her. 

He could not speak, when a healer in the magical hospital inquired about his injuries, his sore throat only producing strangle gurgling sounds. He drank so many potions, he felt as if his taste buds were permanently burned away. Wiggenweld, Blood-Replenishing potion, Skele-Gro, Calming draught, Draught of peace and of course Dreamless Sleep. A dose larger than he ever had before. 

When he woke up, he realised just what he’d done. He remembered everything. He sat up in the pristine white hospital bed, his whole body sore, his leg positively pulsing with pain. He put his face into his hands. He wept again. A warm hand touched his shoulder. Watery brown eyes looked up into the kind face of his former ministry colleague. Dinah stroked his shoulder, before moving her hand up to his face, to his hair, petting him softly. 

He cried into her shoulder that day, his hands laying limp in his lap. He heard a clock ticking somewhere to his left. He heard Dinah’s soft shushing sounds. He heard movement on the corridors - nurses, healers, patients, visitors. He heard his own heavy breathing, and he heard the beating of his own heart.

“Listen to me, Aesop,” she spoke later. He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but the sun was taking on an orange colour. Her hands were on his shoulder. “I am choosing to believe that yesterday-” her breath caught, but she recovered quickly, “yesterday was a moment of madness. Never again do I want to find you like I did. You have to realise that your life is not your own to take. Once you do, you’re not the one who’ll hurt. Everyone around you, your family, colleagues, your friends, they’ll be the ones to bear that pain. Think of your mother. You would really make her bury her son next to her husband? 

“You would have her suffer all alone until the end of her days? You would have her, and me, and Abraham, and your partner’s wife stand at your funeral? How could you be so selfish?” Her words were harsh, but Aesop felt he needed to hear them. He felt them grounding him. He felt ridiculous and pitiful. He wept on.

“Aesop… you won’t stay in this darkness. I know you won’t, because you won’t be allowed to. You’re one of the strongest people I know and you never knew when to give up. And now, giving up so easily? That’s not you. Get yourself together. I want to see that Aesop I know, that witty, brave, sarcastic, strong man, who’d always find a way to do what he felt was right. Even if it meant breaking a rule or two.” The broken man held his hands together in his lap, rubbing them slowly. Old habits die hard.

“What if-” he started, his voice still hoarse from yesterday. His throat felt numb. “What if I’m not able to… remember that man?” A smaller hand closed around his rugged ones. “Then you’ll have me to remind you. I’ll do everything in my power to help you, and if I’m unable to help, then you can be sure I’ll stand by you, every step of the way.” Aesop could have cried all over again.

“Okay,” he said instead.

–

Dinah did good on her promise, and really checked in on him every day of the summer. She was driving him up the wall, actually. She threw out every bottle of alcohol she found, and regularly made sure he didn’t buy any more. He started eating more, because not doing so resulted in the former unspeakable giving him an earful. He decided fairly quickly that it’s simply less of a hassle to get something into his stomach, than having to endure her wrath every day. He gained back some of the weight he lost, no longer looking so gaunt. 

She forced him to start walking, using his cane for support. It hurt like hell. It made him determined. He was not going to give up. Slytherins don’t just give up. Dinah made him go outside, being so obnoxious he was almost glad to get out of his house. The first breath of fresh morning air made his sore body buzz appreciatively. He didn’t walk far the first day, choosing to just sit in his little garden. The DADA teacher appeared with tea and sat next to him, looking awfully proud of herself. With a flick of his wand, he disposed of the dead plants on his herbology table nearby.

The next day he walked around the little hamlet. He tried not to notice the stares he received from his neighbours. He tried even harder not to notice their pity. He pushed his chin forward, proud and defiant, as he made his way to the merchant nearby. He needed new seeds. 

—

He wasn’t entirely happy to be in the Three Broomsticks, if he was being honest. But, once more Dinah pestered him until he agreed. That is, until he gave her his worst angsty-teenager ‘Fine!’ . He knew people were staring. The curious glances were easier to handle than the winces. A girl appeared at their table, taking their orders. She could have been fifteen, maybe sixteen. She didn’t look at his scar, didn’t look at his cane. She observed him as if he wasn’t a cripple, who’s obviously in pain. She just smiled and took their order. He was grateful for it. “That’s Sirona Ryan, one of my Ravenclaws,” smiled Dinah, “wonderful girl. She really came out of her shell once she embraced who she is.”

—

Having grown tired of spending his compensation money and the little sick leave pay he received every two weeks on buying potions for his pain, he soon started brewing his own. Wiggenweld, for a start, but also various other potions, as well as salves, each of which have had various success in diminishing his pain. He forgot how much he always loved this subject. He started experimenting, too, trying new ingredients, new combinations. The healers in St Mungos may have been convinced there was no cure for his ailment, but Aesop wouldn’t give up. 

When summer ended and Dinah could only visit him during the weekends, he was equally glad and disappointed. He thought he looked forward to being alone again, alone with his thoughts, alone without her constantly pestering him to eat something, to go outside, to shave, to cut his hair, to dress in fresh clothes. He found himself slightly lonely now.  

However, he found a rhythm, a routine. He’d wake up in the morning and go about his day. Aesop would do his morning hygiene. He’d make and eat his breakfast. He’d tend to his plants. He’d have lunch. He’d go for a walk, leaning on his cane. The pain never went away, but it was more bearable now. On most days, that is. He’d be hunched over his potions station long into the evening, brewing and brewing. He’d run his experiments. He’d fall into his bed, but not without taking either Dreamless Sleep or Draught of Peace.

Rinse and repeat. 

He ate, he wore clean clothes, he took care of himself and his home. He visited his mother, who always fretted over him. Then there was Dinah who would also fret over him when she came over. He saw Abraham a few times, the jovial man always full of stories. He let his hair and stubble grow in defiance. He was offered a different job in the Auror office. Auror recruitment programme… the very thought made him shudder. To think he’d be buried under parchment, dealing with children straight out of Hogwarts, who thought they were some heroes who would save the world, only for them to soon realise how horribly they were mistaken… Often brutally. Bloodily.

He didn’t want that. Such a job held no appeal to him whatsoever.

Aesop Sharp retired from the Auror office at 34 years old.

He still received a small amount of monetary support from the ministry every month, and he started selling some of what he brewed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Aesop. In any case, it was enough until he found something better to do, some new job that could fill him with fulfilment. Dinah came around, sometime during April with a smug smile on her face. She found him the perfect job, she claimed.

Four months later, Aesop stood before Hogwarts.

He found it rather funny. He didn’t want to deal with children straight out of Hogwarts who pursued an Auror career, only to deal with them in the school itself. If anything, he could make sure they were well prepared, that they were humble, that they knew everything they needed. That they wouldn’t end up like him.

He also thought about the vast expanse of Hogwarts library, of the Greenhouses, of the ingredient stores. If he was to find a cure somewhere, it would be here.

With every limping step towards the castle, he grew more and more sure that this was the right decision. That this was fate. 

—

The worst time of his life flashed before Aesop’s eyes. He saw your sorrow, your desperation, your pain. He saw you, entirely, and he saw himself, too. It was raw and painful and he hated it. He hated to see someone so strong, so ridiculously brave, so kind and selfless like you feeling this way. Damn ancient magic, damn the keepers, damn Ranrok and damn Eleazar for leaving you like he did.

“Come here,” he said, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. Not knowing why, you obeyed. Your broom hit the floor. You moved slowly, still shaking violently, tears already appearing in your eyes. It was Aesop who took the final two steps to you, and, without further ado, closed his arms around your smaller form, pressing you to him entirely, imprisoning you in his warmth. You’ve grown during the year, but being as tall as he was, he easily tucked your head under his chin. Sobs soon started leaving you. Gut-wrenching and raw like his screams were before. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

He made it on time, he made it before you did something stupid. Like he did. He wouldn’t let you be like him. He held you tightly, stroked your hair, let you cry on his shoulder. He made soft shushing noises. In the distance he heard bells, it was midnight. You clung onto him, your hands gripping the fabric of his coat so tightly, your fingers went white. He was a solid, steady warmth against you, and you felt safe, protected, and you weren’t alone. When your sobs began subsiding, you felt utterly exhausted, numb, your throat was sore from crying so hard, and your head was starting to ache.

Two large lean hands grabbed your face, gently, yet insistently. The potions master pulled you back, tilted your head and looked into your eyes deeply. His face was so close, his large nose almost touched your own.

“You listen to me, (F/N)(L/N), and you listen well,” he started, his tone soft, yet very serious, “I know your pain. I know the darkness - you won’t stay in it. You won’t be allowed to. I won’t let you, your friends and teachers won’t let you, and you definitely won’t let yourself.” He remembered what Dinah told him, all those years ago, word for word. He never forgot. He never stopped being grateful to her. She pulled him out of that void and now he had to do the same for this young witch.

“You’re stronger than you know. I simply won’t accept you giving up, not after you single-handedly defeated Ranrok, after you saved this school. That’s not you. I want to see that absolutely brilliant girl, who excels in school by day and rescues beasts by night, who’s untamed and unafraid, and who’s always ready to defy anything and anyone, even me, in order to do what’s right. Whatever you need, I’m here. If you cannot bear to be alone, I’m wholly prepared to give you detention every evening until you graduate. I intend to pull you out of that abyss, even if you hate me for it.”

At some point your hands covered his own on your cheeks, and fresh tears rolled from your eyes. Aesop pulled you close again, grounding you, letting you fall apart in his arms and putting you back together with his quiet comfort. “I could never hate you,” you whimpered and clung on tighter, not wanting him to let you go. He wouldn’t. Just like Aesop was not alone, he wouldn’t let you be alone either. You were not alone. He was not alone.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed reading. You can also find this story on AO3. I appreciate your feedback!

[cdelphiki]

A Rock in a Weary Place excerpt

I haven't done a WIP Wednesday in forever. It's almost Wednesday so here we go. A Rock in a Weary Place is part two of my Clark-adopts-Billy AU and I am so excited about it. I've finally gotten some good work done on it, but since it's a long one-shot (I don't actually know how long, but I wouldn't be shocked if it exceeds 10k) it'll be a while before its done. So here's an excerpt!!!! Of course any and all of this can change between now and posting the final.

-

Clark felt… lost.

For as long as he’d been planning and scheming on how to get Billy Batson off the streets, he hadn’t fully realized what taking a kid into his home would fully entail.

Because, for all the talk about how he’d be more like a roommate to Billy… he also realized that he couldn’t be just a roommate.

He was the adult. He had to be— the adult. And Billy was the kid. Clark was providing for Billy, and that was that.

Which meant, Clark had to cook food.

A lot.

He’d never really cooked before, when it was just him. He ordered food, usually. Or just ate something microwavable. Ma would be upset, if she knew that.

But she didn’t know, so she couldn’t be upset.

If she found out he fed Billy, a “growing boy,” primarily greasy take out and cheap microwave dinners… Well Clark wasn’t sure he’d find a place on Earth safe from her wrath. And since he was Martha Kent’s son, he did know how to cook.

So that’s what he did.

A lot now.

Breakfast and dinner every day, and lunch on the weekends too. Although there had only been one weekend with Billy, so far. Five days in total.

How did five short days feel like an eternity?

“Smallville,” Lois nearly sang, “Yoohoo, hello? Is anyone home?”

Clark looked up from his laptop screen and smiled sheepishly at Lois, where she was leaning over his desk almost between him and his computer. He’d been zoning out a lot recently. “Sorry Lois,” he said, “what did you say?”

“What is up with you,” she exasperated, sitting back down into her chair, across their back-to-back desks from him, “you’re so…. distracted lately!”

“Oh nothing,” Clark said, as he leaned back in his chair, trying his best to give her his undivided attention, “just a lot on my mind.”

“Such as…” she prodded, leaning forward further into his personal space. When Clark didn’t reply other than to offer another sheepish smile, she let out an exasperated sigh and said, “Okay fine, I’ve got a new story for us. You won’t believe it, but there’s competition for Superman.”

“What?” Clark asked.

Lois grinned.“You know that guy from Fawcett? Captain Marvel? He’s been spotted in Metropolis this week.”

Clark resisted a laugh. He had known that, of course. “Really?” he asked anyway.

“Yes, and this morning, you’ll never believe it,” Lois said, as she went ahead and fully sat up on his desk, her arms moving all over the place as she spoke, “I was walking from the garage when this kid walked right out into the road without looking, and Captain Marvel swooped in and grabbed him before he got hit by a car. It was incredible! And I got to see Captain Marvel close up.”

“Did you now?” Clark asked with a grin.

“Yes, and let me tell you, he’s handsome. Superman has some real competition there.”

Clark… wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Billy was just a child. A ten-year-old boy. But Clark couldn’t tell Lois that. How would Clark even know that?

He just hoped he never had to have that conversation with Billy, either. Adults shouldn’t be looking at him as if he were an adult.

But.

That was a concern, wasn’t it? Billy had said so himself. Sometimes he wasn’t a kid. Half the time, Billy was an adult. In form, at least.

They definitely would have to have a conversation, wouldn’t they?

Clark… Clark had no idea how to go about that.

“We should do some scouting this evening. Listen to the police scanner and see if we can catch Captain Marvel, just like we used to do with Superman, remember?”

He nodded absently. That had always been… interesting. Having to come up with excuse after excuse to slip away for a moment, all while Lois was trying her best to see Superman.

No matter how fun that had been, he couldn’t do that again. Because. He had to go home and feed Billy.

Also, Billy probably wouldn’t go out and about that time, anyway. He usually did his work during the daylight, and stayed in at night. Clark hadn’t seen him out at night much at all, not even before he came to live in Metropolis.

“Smallville,” Lois snapped, “Clark. Tonight. Scouting. What do you say?”

Clark looked back at her and tried to look regretful as he said, “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Can’t?” she exclaimed, scowling hard, “Why not?”

“I have plans,” he said simply.

Because he did. Feed the kid.

“Plans with who,” she demanded, “You haven’t been available all week!”

He spluttered and held his two hands up in surrender. “It’s not like that. I’m just busy. Besides, has Captain Marvel been seen after dark much anyway?”

Lois narrowed her eyes, but then sat back as she clearly thought it over, then muttered, “Hm. I wonder if he gets his strength from the sun or something.”

“Hey, maybe,” he said, as he pushed his chair back and stood up. He shut his laptop and slipped it into his bag before he grabbed his coat and said, “I’ve got to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow. We can talk more about this new hero tomorrow.”

He felt mildly bad he’d blown her off three times already. He’d only had Billy for five days, and three of those days he’s had to blow Lois off.

They used to spend almost all day together, weekends to. Clark already missed that…

“Yeah, yeah,” Lois said, as she slid off his desk and returned to hers, “go do whatever. Tomorrow we’re scouting for Captain Marvel, Kent, don’t forget it.”

[oh-no-another-idea]

Seven Snippets tag X

Thanks for this one, @winterandwords @tabswrites and @dogmomwrites! <3 Let's do some Bent Nails or Something, since I haven't played this game with new baby wip yet ;)

1.

Michael sat and breathed and let the past be the past. “I’d like to meet Angela,” he said. “I think it’d be nice to have her stay.”

Nick smiled at him and said no more about it. Michael promptly tried to forget the whole thing.

2.

“It’s not snooping, it’s exploring,” [Angela] said, in the same voice she’d been using on Sutton since the words consisted of look, Sutton, it’s an airplane! Open wide!

5.

Michael owned six memories of his father. He had liked microwaving sliced cheese on a piece of bread until the whole thing was a sticky congealed mess that only a five-year-old could’ve loved. Michael had watched the timer count downward and he remembered his father’s hands handing him the melty gooey goodness. There had been a braided cord bracelet and a watch on his wrist.

4.

Sutton’s stomach dropped into her sandals. “No,” she said, quickly growing just as distraught. “No, I can’t, you don’t understand.”

“I sure don’t,” [Jacob] said.

“I have no money,” Sutton told him. “Not like, more than thirty bucks. And you can’t go to my mom for it because we’re here to see if she and Nick are compatible and should get married and live together forever and I can’t be a problem, not now, not when things are going so good. She’ll kill me, and then she’ll leave Nick and I’ll be the ruination of her happiness. Again, probably.”

5.

“You think it over,” he said, pulling a sharpie out of his pocket. “Come see me on Wednesday and tell me your decision. Give me your arm. Come on, give it to me, I’m not gonna chop it off.”

He took her wrist and pushed her sleeve up, writing on her arm with the sharpie. An address flowed to life in ink. 28 Winston Farm Rd.

“That’s permanent marker,” Sutton said blankly, staring at the ugly letters on her skin.

6.

“I kinda sorta maybe accidentally smashed someone’s windshield,” Sutton mumbled, looking at her sandals. “And they said I could pay it off by helping them out for the summer. I need to know how to use a hammer.”

7.

“Now where was I—” he turned, spotted Michael with his back to them, saw up above his head to get the beam near the ceiling, and faltered.

“What should I do next?” Sutton prompted.

Jacob shook his head like a dog in a rainstorm and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Uh,” he said, and tore his gaze back to her. “Well, unfortunately, we gotta clean up the mess we’re making. We need some garbage cans.”

Whew! Congrats on making it down here if you did, and if you didn't, well it's time for tags ;)

@reneesbooks @charlesjosephwrites @eccaiia @mister-writes @talesofsorrowandofruin and anyone else who'd like to share <3

[percyweas1ey]

Another snippet of the Trans!Percy WIP here, I’ve cut off one of my favourite bits so that can stay a surprise, but the relationship between Percy and Charlie so one of my favourite parts of the fic (and was very well received by my beta ❤️)

They sat in silence for a minute or two, whilst Percy tried to find some of the words that would even begin to describe quite how he felt. “I’m not gay, though I mean I’d never really thought much about stuff like that anyway, I thought it was rather normal to like both I suppose.” He took in a deep breath, once again dropping his gaze before he continued, “you sound like Penny you know? She says stuff like this a lot, I often think she knows me better than I know myself. Throws around words I never knew like ‘transgender’, and thinks I’m a girl somewhere inside. But I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be some…some weird person who’ll always be more of a man than a woman where it counts. I don’t…I don’t want to admit she’s right because then there’s something wrong with me.” He finished with a whisper, heart pounding. Quicker than he could blink, Charlie’s arms were wrapped around him. “I just want to be a normal man, with a nice ministry job, a lovely partner and maybe a child or two and it feels like if I give in to whatever this is, I won’t have any of that.” He kept his gaze low, waiting for Charlie’s reply.

He found himself surprised when Charlie tapped him on the shoulder and offered him a cigarette, an incredible gesture now his stash was already beginning to drain quicker than he would’ve liked. “Don’t play coy, I’ve seen you wandering around near the edge of the fence enough, just be grateful it was me and not mum.” Percy gave an embarrassed smile, a small blush creeping up his neck as he accepted the cigarette and lit it with the lighter Charlie immediately chucked to him, whilst lighting his own with a quick incendio. “So, you’re a girl then? I know you said you don’t want to be one, but I mean, if it’s anything like the stuff I know, and admittedly that’s not a lot, you can’t change this stuff Perce, you just either decide to do something or not, and you can’t just hide something like this forever, it’s who you are, it’s not fair to do that to yourself. The Ministry won’t have a problem, and if they do then fuck them Perce, this is so much more important that a job like that, I know you might not agree but it is. If you have to, go into research or history, do a mastery or something, you’d be more valued doing that in my opinion anyway, but that’s not what this is about.” Charlie took a long drag and flicked his ash absentmindedly, with Percy following suit.

Percy crossed his legs and took a drag, exhaling slowly and watching the smoke disappear into nothingness. “I suppose…well I guess I am then yeah. Penny tried calling me she once to see how I’d feel. I didn’t want to tell her at the time but it did feel better. You finally dragged it out of me I suppose, she’ll be glad to hear when I write her later.” He, no, she replied softly, a weight lifting off her shoulders. “I don’t really know what to do from here on, my hair was a start but I don’t really want to tell mum and dad yet, I’d do more at Hogwarts but I know it would get back to them somehow.” She took another drag on her cigarette sadly.

[thana-topsy]

WIP Wednesday 7/26/23

Wednesday again already!? I was tagged by @mareenavee and @kookaburra1701 who I'm pretty sure have already read snippets of this, but here you go again some more. (Oh and @skyrim-forever thank you!)

I'll try to tag people that I know aren't already getting bombarded with tags lol. So let's go @throughtrialbyfire @greyborn2 @what-with-you-dear @metallic-scaled-scarf @mongoose-bite @yesjejunus @nientedenada @moriche show me ya wips.

This is from the broader Enthir story I'm now working on, including 100% more backstory.

---

Word count: 1260

Urag was a fixture of the College of Winterhold just as much as the statue of Shalidor himself. When Enthir had first arrived, newly freed from the rigid curriculum of the Imperial University, ripe with enthusiasm and fresh charisma, he’d quickly gotten himself into the old orc’s good graces. In his near fifty year tenure in academia thus far, Enthir had but one rule: always befriend the archivist.   

Of course, Urag ran his Arcanaeum very differently than the stuffy bastards at the Imperial University. Differently from the University of Gwilym, for that matter. And the Synod’s archives weren’t even worth mentioning in comparison to the College of Winterhold’s vast collection, much of which (Enthir later found out) was locked away in some secret archive and put out on rotation. A large chunk of the collection—known colloquially as the Forbidden Archives—could only be accessed if you knew what you were asking for, presented a thesis and outline detailing the nature of your study, and clearly stated your reasons for needing said research materials, all stamped with the Arch-Mage’s seal of approval. 

Or, bypassing all of that, one could attempt to make nice with the librarian. 

“Please?” Enthir was on the tips of his toes as he leaned across the high desk, jutting out his lower lip. “I won’t even take them out of the Arcanaeum. You can hover behind me menacingly while I read, even.”

“Nope. I’m going to need to see your proposed outline,” Urag repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Enthir curled his lips against his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “Well, here’s the thing—I don’t exactly know how to propose anything without knowing whether or not my theory is even feasible.”

“I believe you just described a hypothesis,” Urag said, a shimmer of playfulness behind his gruff expression. “Which would be a great way to start your outline.”   

Enthir smiled thinly before pushing away from the desk and spinning on his heel, expression dropping into a scowl as soon as his back was turned. He sat down at one of the long tables with an audible huff and pulled a scroll from his satchel, all while contemplating what he knew of Urag’s character thus far and the likelihood of the orc accepting a blowjob in exchange for reading material. Something told him it wouldn’t work quite as well as it had at the Synod.

He began to furiously scribble his ‘proposed outline’ with more ink on his quill than necessary, the first sentence’s letters bubbling and blending together in a physical manifestation of his petulance. Soon enough, he’d tricked himself into actually completing the task at hand, lost in his own theories. He blew across the page as he finished, reading it over while he waited for the ink to dry, before rolling it up and marching back over to Urag’s desk. 

“Here,” he said, offering the proposal to Urag with a scowl. 

Urag took it, unfurled the scroll, and proceeded to read the outline at a leisurely pace as Enthir drummed his fingers on the top of the desk. Urag’s eyebrows slowly crept upwards as he read, his eyes darting to Enthir only once while wearing an expression that was hard to parse.  

“Interesting theory,” Urag said at last, rolling the scroll back up and handing it to Enthir. “Bold, even. But it’s missing something.”

Enthir quirked a brow in silent question. 

“The Arch-Mage’s seal.”

“Come on, Urag!” Enthir exclaimed, throwing his arms up. “I don’t have time for this bureaucratic bullshit!” 

“This bureaucratic bullshit, as you call it, is how our collection has survived as long as it has,” Urag all but growled. “You’re a formidable scholar. That much is clear. But you’re not above the rules.”

Enthir hissed through his bared teeth. Final play, he thought, and marched around the desk. Urag managed to look surprised as Enthir rounded the corner and took a knee in front of his chair.

“What–?”

Before Urag could finish his question, Enthir was already pulling the necklace from the satchel on his belt with steady hands. The palm-sized opal charm shone with a brilliant light, almost too bright to look at directly. Enthir glanced up at Urag to find the orc’s expression slack with awe, the multicolor refraction glistening in his dark eyes. 

“Where… did you get that?” 

Enthir allowed himself a sly smile. “I have my connections,” he said, turning the necklace over in his palm, rolling the charm between his fingers like a captured star. “And I have a buyer, but it’s time-sensitive. And this little trinket is not something I’m going to be able to sell to just anyone. Hence the… expeditious nature of my request.”

Enthir saw Urag’s throat bob as he swallowed. “May I?” he asked quietly. 

Enthir hesitated, his fingers tightening around the charm almost unconsciously. But then he smiled. “Sure.”

Urag took the opal from him with the reverence of a temple priest, turning it between his fingers as he continued to stare. He glanced back at Enthir with an expression he, once again, couldn’t quite interpret—it could have been respect, possibly even a hint of being impressed—but there was a nervous pull in the pit of Enthir’s stomach that told him that maybe he’d misjudged. That Urag would confiscate the necklace and report him to the Arch-Mage for possession of Daedric artifacts. 

“You’re dealing in dangerous territory, my friend,” Urag said at last, handing the opal charm back to Enthir. “But I have good news, at least. You don’t need permission to access anything from the archives. One moment.”

Enthir watched Urag push out of his chair and walk away from the desk, disappearing around the bend of the bookshelves. He returned the shining necklace to his satchel and got to his feet, leaning back against the lower edge of the desk with crossed arms. Urag returned several minutes later holding a nondescript tome.

“Here,” he said, setting the book on the lower desk between them, hidden from any possible student that might pass by. The title read: The Knights of the Silver Rose. “Familiar with the order?” 

Enthir just shook his head, leaning in close enough for their shoulders to brush as he flipped open the cover and began to skim the table of contents.

“Group of anti-daedra crusaders. The only thing that makes them stand out from any of the others we’ve gotten over the past few millennia is that they kept records on the artifacts they confiscated, as opposed to outright destroying them. This book is part history, part catalog.” He reached over to turn the page, his hand brushing against Enthir’s, dry and warm. “Here. Page one-seventy-five.”

Enthir let Urag flip to the appropriate page, glancing up at the orc’s face. He wore an expression of concentration—studiousness. Enthir felt a light fluttering beneath his ribs, stirrings of conspiratorial excitement. Not only had Urag recognized the artifact on sight, but he had known the exact book to pull for further information. An obscure one, at that.     

“The Opal Charm of Meridia,” Urag said, tapping the page with a thick finger and looking to Enthir with an air of smug satisfaction. “There you have it.” 

“Thanks,” Enthir muttered, unable to pull his gaze away from Urag’s face. 

“Just say what you want more directly from now on,” Urag said with another smirk, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re not in Cyrodiil anymore.” 

Enthir’s expression split into a wide smile, and he clapped a hand against Urag’s broad shoulder. “Urag, my friend, I believe you and I are going to have a very fruitful relationship.”

[arokel]

please I need your all the presidents men wips I need them even if they aren’t finished. Think of the children

ask and ye shall receive :>

i'm usually very secretive about my wips BUT i will lower the veil of secrecy for a bit in the service of the children. looooong post under the cut!

wip 1 (with the creative working title of "sloan's wife")

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Bob said emphatically. His own beer had been knocked over by a particularly vehement sweep of the arm a while ago and he had been stealing sips of Carl’s ever since. “What’s Sloan gonna say when we ask to put his name on a story that’s just about how pretty his wife is?”

“He’ll say I’m right, she is very pretty, and everyone who buys the book should know it.”

Bob snorted, hiding his smile behind the page of praises to Sloan’s admittedly lovely wife. Stupid, drunken arguments with Carl were always more fun when Carl played along. “He’ll probably just be thankful you didn’t write about how pretty he is. The biggest miracle of Watergate is that he never said anything about you staring at him all the time.”

“Nonsense,” Carl said, tapping his beer against Bob’s lips through the paper. Bob obligingly lowered it and opened his mouth to let Carl pour several drops onto his tongue with drunken precision. “I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Aw, shucks, don’t say that. You’ll make me blush.”

Carl shrugged. “Alright, I won’t.”

The words brought Bob up short. Despite Carl’s careful pouring, a few drops had landed on his chin. He wiped them off with the back of his hand and studied Carl’s easy, open expression. Not teasing. Not a joke.

“Don’t say that now,” Bob clarified, a distinction that made perfect sense to him in the moment but probably wouldn’t hold up under sober examination. “Let me think about it.”

“Alright. Tell me what’s so wrong about calling Deborah pretty again,” Carl said, with a smile and another shrug, as if he hadn’t just changed everything between them.

wip 2 aka chapter 3 of Not all things forever are hidden

Everything since the break-in had been such a whirlwind that Bob hadn’t even noticed the time passing until Mel, shrugging off his coat in Bob’s front hallway, had asked, “so who’s this Carl Bernstein guy you’re replacing me with?”

“Not a replacement,” Bob had said, laughing, “a colleague.” But it had felt wrong, and he had changed the subject quickly. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Carl with Mel.

Mel heaved himself off of Bob’s chest with a groan and began to gather his scattered clothing. Bob watched him, sleepy-eyed, and forced the words please stay down his throat until they stopped coming back up and instead sat queasily just below his breastbone. It wasn’t Mel’s company that he wanted, just someone’s. Just not to be alone.

“Well,” Mel said, lingering with his hand on the doorknob. “See ya next time. Tell Carl Bernstein hi for me.”

“I will,” Bob said, unthinkingly. He wouldn’t.

Carl was out of town, anyway. That was why Bob had taken the night off in the first place, and why he hadn’t just called up Carl to come over and go over leads again when he felt the loneliness starting to creep in at the edges of his vision. That was why he didn’t want Mel to leave.

wip 3 which is. just filth

“I can do better,” Carl says opaquely, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “Yours or mine?”

Bob knows what he’s really saying. “Stop off at yours first? Most of your notes are still at mine.”

They don’t fuck at Carl’s place, for the simple reason that Carl’s walls are thinner. Watergate has turned them both into cautious people, people who speak in code. Grab a change of clothes, Bob is saying, and spend the night with me.

“Sounds good. Want to stop for something on the way?” Carl says with a shrug, as if he’s read nothing into Bob’s words beyond the surface.

“I’m not very hungry,” Bob says. I can’t wait, he means. I want you as soon as I can have you.

Carl’s grin is sharp. “Me neither.”

Carl lets his hand rest just behind the gearshift the whole drive back to his place and then to Bob’s, the tips of his fingers brushing continuously against Bob’s thigh as if by accident. Bob stays in the car while Carl grabs a briefcase secretly carrying an extra set of clothes, too turned on to follow without embarrassing himself.

He holds it together until they’re safely inside his own apartment with the door locked behind them, and then he shoves Carl against the wall beside it, panting frustrated breaths against Carl’s neck as Carl laughs.

“You’re a goddamn terrible driver, you know that?”

“You were distracting me,” Bob growls, betraying his own anger by nosing Carl’s shirt collar aside to press a wet, openmouthed kiss against his collarbone. He’s not angry, per se, but there is an energy fizzing beneath his skin, a restlessness seeking an outlet. “Stroking my thigh and moaning the whole time - “

“I was humming along to the radio.”

Bob lifts his head to glare. “No one hums like that.”

Carl hums again - moans; really, no one hums like that outside of sex - and pulls Bob in, finally, to kiss him, deep and wet, fucking his tongue into Bob’s mouth, and even though he has Carl backed against a wall, suddenly Bob is the one who feels trapped.

wip 4 aka cuddling for warmth

“Hey, I just finished for the night, are you busy? I have something - maybe big, maybe nothing, but I want to talk it out before I sleep on it. Can I swing by?”

“Don’t worry, I canceled all my plans already since I figured you were going to call. I sensed it,” Carl said, affecting a tone Bob could only describe as mystical. “Come on over, I’ll make coffee. But dress warm.”

“Very funny. See you in a few.”

Carl’s apartment, while just as sad and cluttered as Bob’s, had two radiators, and Carl kept them both on full blast at all times in the winter. “Come on,” he would say, whenever Bob chided him about the waste of energy, “do you really think they turned down the heat in the White House? I bet it’s like a sauna in there,” and Bob hadn’t yet found a good comeback. At least when Johnson had turned the lights out you could see it.

But in that moment Carl’s energy inefficiency was exactly what Bob wanted, and so he was both startled and disappointed by the chill that greeted him when Carl opened the door and stepped back to let Bob inside, bundled in a quilt and looking miserable.

Bob stepped over the trailing edge of the quilt and, shivering, listened for the familiar clicking of the radiators. They were silent.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “You know Nixon said sixty-eight degrees, not off.”

“Heat’s out in the whole building,” Carl said. “I think they let Liddy out of prison so he could take a sledgehammer to the furnace to spite me personally.”

“Somebody smashed up the furnace?”

“Well, probably not. But if anyone did my money’d be on Liddy.”