#this is a wip that will probably never see the light of day but I’m glad I get to share a little bit

[hollytree33]

Zero Context WIP Tag Game

If you’re tagged, make a new post and share 1-2 (a few) sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context – Let your followers guess!

Thanks for the tag @broodsys!! I love these games they push me to share things I wouldn’t have otherwise! I’m slowly getting braver, I feel like a baby bird leaving the nest haha

Tagging @greypetrel, @kcwriter-blog, @lillotte17, @dreadfutures, and anyone else that wants to!! (No pressure of course ❤️)

Magic had come over her with a sharp clarity, bright and all consuming like a bonfire lit behind her eyes. It was Knowledge that had taken her hands, guiding them as an old friend would, to form a sparkling star of flame in her small palms.

[coffee-at-annies]

what about your favourite player? :p

Jars Jars Jars Jars Jars.

Not to sound insane but he grinned and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.

No but seriously I took one look at the eyebrows and the dimples and the baby face sometime circa 2017-2018 and knew that was it for me. That was the one for me. I always like to have a handful of favorites (my personal tier list) of which an important part is goalie, emotional support depth forward, and defenseman. Of my original 3 loves we traded Shears away twice, sold Big Rig back to Dallas for a corn chip I don’t actually remember I’m just bitter, and shoved Mouse Boy in the minors for like two years. It was a rough time.

In the last year or two I’ve done a lot of navel gazing between retirements (cully hags&horny 😭), trades (Shears, Big Rig, Teddy, Jakenbake 💔), free agency, and our old guys getting older that I can’t obfuscate around the fact that Jars is it for me. I love his stupid face, his curls, his perfect eyebrows, his dedication to saying nothing and pretending there isn’t a thought in his head, the fact that he won’t go shirtless in the locker room. Just all of it. I get cuteness aggression thinking about him. I spent so long thinking we weren’t going to re-sign him this time last year that I literally cried when we did and then again at the start of the season and again at the goalie goal and several other points — look I have a lot of intense emotions about Mouse Boy. Say what you want about his play or his injury history, whatever, I don’t care. You cannot change my mind. Mother, I love him.

There are other players I love — Flower and the Core exist in a niche in my heart I can’t quantify nor rank in terms of favorites. However, if I’ve got to be honest, I would probably sell most of the team to Satan for one corn chip if it meant keeping Jars around. I don’t know if I have it in me to follow him to another team but that’s the limit. Everything else is fair game.

[kaviiinsky]

ask game: 👀 ???

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

YES of course I do, the biggest one that comes to mind is an incredibly indulgent self-insert fic into Star Trek TNG where I just get to be besties with Geordi the whole time lmao, only one other person has ever seen this fic and I’m almost 100% never gonna post it anywhere because it’s just for me to enjoy (even though I did make up an entire new alien race for it oopsie daisy I can’t help myself)

[ofmermaidstories]

SUMMARY: The call to be a Pro Hero has never been a question—not for Katsuki Bakugou, explosive and guarded, nor for Izuku Midoriya, protective and determined, and certainly not for Shouto Todoroki, who’s family legacy hangs over him like a shadow. Years after the War that upended Hero Society, these three men have helped rebuild a path to Pro Heroism for the next generation, tentatively heralding a new era of hope. But there’s danger lurking in this rebuilt world, danger that has the power to rekindle old fears and usher in new resentments, and as the trio branch out to find and end these threats, they each encounter a new challenge along the way—colliding with someone unexpected, and falling in love.

(A Pro Hero x Reader Trilogy; in which falling in love is a random chance all at once chaotic and exhilarating and incredible, for each of the Big Three)

The premise is simple: three heroes, three fics, and three different lives to live. Named for the Katy Perry song, The One That Got Away, the In Another Life trilogy was originally intended to be a series of five stand-alone fics that evolved, fairly quickly, into what we have today: three interconnected stories that let our Reader-inserts move throughout the My Hero Academia world, and eventually find where—and who with—they belong.

Started in 2020 when the manga was still on-going, the fics have diverged from the canon Horikoshi’s given us both in small and large ways. Despite where they separate (and where the fics have to stay faithful to their own canon, now), it’s always been my hope that they read like the love letters they are—to My Hero, to the boys, and to x reader fic at large.

i’m running to your side—flying my white flag

1. surrender (whenever you’re ready) [Explicit] — ao3

93k+

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

COMPLETED ✔️

SUMMARY: You first meet Ground Zero when he's thrown, unceremoniously, through the glass window of your florist shop.

(In which Bakugou cannot stand flowers but finds himself coming back, anyway)

i’ve been reading books of old—the legends and the myths

2. something (just like this) [Explicit] — ao3

203k+

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

COMPLETED ✔️

SUMMARY: It probably says a lot about you that your first thought on meeting Deku, international Symbol of Peace, isn't something like "Oh, wow," or, "Oh he's so nice," but is instead the un-Plus Ultra thought of, "I definitely would've bullied him, in high school."

At least until those muscles came in.

(In which Midoriya is an absolute nerd for the release of his own hero-inspired comic book series—and the artist responsible for it)

all your flaws and scars are mine

3. still (falling for you) [Explicit] — ao3

TDB

Shouto Todoroki x Reader

WIP 🕙

SUMMARY: The first time you and Shouto cross paths, he nearly drowns you.

(In which Todoroki meets a jeweller by the sea, and learns the difference between the value of the lessons he's been given—and the precious things he chooses to keep)

🚧 UNDER CONSTRUCTION 🚧

i am actively adding to and editing this section, still. if you think something is missing, or you have something you’d like included, please let me know!!! i am going through all the posts and links i do have, manually, so i may still miss something and would love a gentle reminder. 🌷

🚧 🏗️ 🧱🔨🔧🪛 🚧

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] do u think bakugou ever gets so angry his mouth misses [Readers] when they’re making out?

Katsuki’s home for once, sleeping off the last few days in the darkness of his room, cocooned.

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] what type of jewellery would Bakugou gift [Reader], if any at all?

The first gift Katsuki gives you after Christmas is a pocket knife.

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] how are weeds and katsuki?

It’s a Wednesday, a normal day, and they are figuring it out.

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] petition for you to write [Reader sending] bakugou horny tweets

light it up like an ELECTRIC STRIKE ⚡️: please please PLEASE Kacchan has blocked me and muted the groupchat PLEASE, I need him to see this, please just send him this ONE THING, PLEASE!!!!!

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] would [it] be important to bakugou for [his parents and weeds] to meet?

Masaru will just scratch the side of his nose under his glasses and think about a younger Mitsuki, who literally would not take no for an answer from him—and a younger Katsuki, who had the same laser-focus when it came to the things he wanted in his life.

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] i am asking for royal au + florist au for [weeds/bakugou]

In his armour still, his forest-green cape, Ser Bakugou is dressed for war—solid and imposing as he stands on your threshold.

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [SJLT] what does [Reader] post [to instagram]? + [SWYR] things weeds would post

The one consistent has been art, good, bad and middling.

[ASK/DRABBLE 📖] [IAL] it’s so cute that SWYR’s reader is a fan of SJLT’s comic

Kacchan has never asked for anything from Izuku—beyond that he doesn’t look down on him (beyond that Izuku live).

[DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] katsuki keeps a pot of strawberries for you in his kitchen;

When they finally fruit he’s disgruntled.

[DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] katsuki’s quieter than usual

So you wait. You let him have his silence, and you fill the space around it with your own presence.

[DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] he tells me he’s gentle when he wants to be—

The bed dipping under Katsuki’s weight wakes you.

[DRABBLE 📖] [SWYR] you and bakugou walk home in the rain

“Y’re meant to go home, dipshit,” he says, disapproving

[DRABBLE 📖] [SJLT] bad touch (you and me)

Minoru’s skeleton nearly fists itself out of his asshole when a voice behind him says, “That was a kindness you just did, for Midoriya.”

[ASK ❔] [SWYR] if you were to write surrender today, do you think anything would change?

[ASK ❔] [SWYR] what would have been the moment bakugou knew he had it bad for surrender's reader?

[ASK ❔] [SWYR] have you ever written/imagined Kirishima’s POV [throughout the fic]?

[ASK ❔] [SWYR] idk if you meant her to come off in this way, but [Reader] strikes me as [lonely]

[ASK ❔] [SWYR] i’m literally going to throw up from excitement if you actually make a bakuweeds oneshot collection

[ASK ❔] [SWYR] i am vibrating in my boots with excitement about the [SWYR] one-shot series!

[ASK ❔] [SJLT] did you have any inspiration for the kimono Reader is wearing in SJLT?

[ASK ❔] [SJLT] looking forward to our [gala] wear

[ASK ❔] [SJLT] could we have visuals of Reader’s outfits during the gala?

[ASK ❔] [IAL] double dates

[ASK ❔] [IAL] what city/prefecture does [the series] take place in?

[ASK ❔] [IAL] how [would] the Y/Ns react to fanfic about their heroes?

[PODFIC 🎙️] [SWYR] surrender (whenever you’re ready) — narrated by Chthonianqueen

[PLAYLIST 🎧] [SWYR] surrender (whenever you’re ready) [plays on spotify]

[PLAYLIST 🎧] [SWYR] and i’d give up forever to touch you: a suggested-songs playlist [plays on spotify]

[PLAYLIST 🎧] [SJLT] something (just like this) [plays on spotify]

[PLAYLIST 🎧] [SJLT] like lightning: a suggested-songs playlist [plays on spotify]

[ART ✏️] [IAL] bakugou & weeds, deku and & scribbles & bakugou/weeds, deku/scribbles, monoma/reader — by @groshia

[ART ✏️] [SJLT] you get to witness, in real time, as [Deku] leaps from the now open door — by @getstarried

[ART ✏️] [SJLT] izuku, just izuku. just as he is — by @handlethegbread

[ART ✏️] [SWYR] when you’re bakugou katsuki, — by @okeydokiescribbles

[ART ✏️] [SWYR] haru + the flower shop signs

[MOODBOARD 🖼️] [SJLT] the moodboard trend inspired me to make this little thing

[MOODBOARD 🖼️] [SJLT] SJLT is my all-time favourite fanfic,

[MOODBOARD 🖼️] [SJLT] this is just […] a collection of things that reminded me of this story

[BINDING 📚] surrender & the widening sky — @ladybirdk

[PODCAST 🎙️] Canonically Incorrect, episode 75, season 2: Surrender (Whenever You’re Ready) — 10 December, 2022

[ spotify | apple ]

[PERMISSION STATEMENT:] You are more than welcome to print out any of the fics and bind yourself a copy for personal use, or otherwise record a [non-AI] reading of them, or translate into another language—as long as my ao3 username, OfMermaids, is credited somewhere as having written it. 🥹📚 I also love, love seeing and hearing about the work that goes into the pieces you create for yourselves, so if you’re comfortable with it, I’d love to see a picture of (or get a link to!) your efforts!!

final note:

This series is the result of several years worth of love and work, and most importantly, encouragement from the people who have come along and read the stories in it. Whether this is your first time discovering the trilogy, or you’re otherwise revisiting the boys, this is a note to say thank-you for being here. Thank-you for reading, and for being apart of something that has been so much fun to create. Fandom and fanfiction has always been about sharing the excitement with other people—so thank-you for letting me share mine with you. 🌷📖

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That's until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: Tomorrow is beach day for me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The city streets seem to slant around you, looming outside the car windows, blurring at the edges. Your displacement adds to the effect, making your dizzy, leaving your hands raw as you wring them compulsively. You shrink back into your seat, shying away from the world that seems so scary to you. 

Aunt Bev is completely unbothered. She sings along to her favourite 80s bop as she keeps speed with the rest of traffic. She's always in a sunny mood but that day, she beams even brighter. When you asked why, she was almost stunned by the question; 'well, sweetheart, it's your birthday!' 

You forgot. Or didn't care. You never really celebrate. Your last birthday you can barely discern from all the other grim days. You try not to think of that life you had before Aunt Bev showed up to drag you into the light. You suppose it's probably been just under a year since. 

As if sensing your grey thought, she reaches to turn the volume down. She resumes her firm grip on the wheel and peeks over quickly. She smiles as she stops at the changing light. 

"You get a free scoop. You got your ID?" She says. 

You nod. That's one of the things that's new to you. Before you never even had a library card. Before, it was like you never even existed. As far as the world was concerned, you didn't.  

You look down at the purse in your lap. Your cousin Lena gave it to you. She said she never used it and it suited you better. There was a lot she handed over, though without any real concern. Her and your other cousin, Mason, have so much, they hardly know the difference. 

You stare at the embroidered petals on the black velvet. Lena's wrong. It's too nice for you. 

You tear your hands apart and lift the flap. You slide out the small wallet within. Another inherited piece. You slip out the ID card and stare at the photo. It doesn't really look like you but you've never really been able to recognise yourself. Your features always struck you as unfamiliar. 

You remember when you went to fill out the paperwork. Standing in front of that lens, staring into its black eye, and the sudden flash. You tuck the card away and shove the wallet back in the depths of the purse. 

"Lena's making you a cake," Bev says, "she always loves an excuse to make a mess of my kitchen." 

You try to laugh, it's more a crackle. That's the thing about Aunt Bev, everything is so careless to her, so easy. It all feels so strange to you. You don't fit but no one else seems to notice. 

"Mason should be there but heavens knows he's always late. That's not my doing, by the way, your uncle's always been horrible about time," she scoffs. 

You hum to acknowledge you're listening. The mention of your cousin and uncle make you uneasy. It isn't that they're bad. No, they're so nice, like Lena and Bev, but they're men. You try not to hold that against them but you've never been very comfortable around them. Not that you spent much time around male counterparts. 

"Twenty-five," she preens, "exciting." 

You clear your dry throat, "yep." 

You tuck your chin down and fidget with the strap of the purse. Twenty-five. Halfway through your first decade of adulthood and you still feel like a child. It's nothing to celebrate but Aunt Bev sees everyday as a reason. 

She puts on her signal and waits in the line of cars. You squint through her side and see the bustling of vehicles and people in a large lot. All this for ice cream. You told her you aren't particularly hungry even but she insisted. 

She turns and rolls into the lot, finding a spot amid the tight lines. She sighs and pulls the visor down to check her dyed waves in the mirror. She's always so put together. She tried to help you but you don't like the feel of mascara and you had an allergic reaction to the lip gloss. She didn't try again. 

"Alright, ice cream!" She snaps the visor up, "do you know which flavour you want?" 

You unbuckle your seat belt and shrug, "I don't know what they have." 

"Fair," she tilts her head as she opens her door, "I'm feeling a good old vanilla cone." 

You get out and shut the door. You hook the purse on your shoulder and meet her by the hood. You walk in step with her, peering around at the other people streaming towards the other side of the lot. There’s a large archway leading to a large plot of booths and stands. It’s a market of some sort, the kind you’ve only seen on television. 

“I thought we were getting ice cream,” you say as you grip your purse. 

“They have ice cream. I have another surprise. For your birthday,” she insists, “I wanted to buy you a gift.” 

“Oh? I don’t need one.” 

“I want to,” she says, “me and Lena used to come here all the time. You’ll like it.” 

You don’t argue. You have no right to. She’s doing you a favour. Another one.  

It’s crowded but everyone seems happy. You’re not used to all the noise or clamour. A woman pushes a stroller ahead of you as her husband chases a lively toddler past her. You press your chapped lips together and hold in your unease. 

You’re not the best in these sort of situations. Too many people, too much going on. Just going down to City Hall to get your ID was a lot. The hospital too. Those stiff, cramped plastic chairs and people filling even the space between them. 

You keep your shoulders curled in as you walk with Bev. You end up behind her, following her lead, stopping where she stops, looking at whatever she looks at. She points out a crystal sunflower necklace and you smile and nod. When you see the price, you frown. 

“Maybe something else. I don’t wear jewelry,” you say. You don’t wear it because you never had it. 

“It would be so pretty,” she remarks. 

“No, really, it’s... nice, but not for me.” 

You sidle on. There’s a table of soaps so pungent they make your head cloudy, and candles that look like whipped desserts. You cross to another booth and Bev buys some local honey and apple butter. She likes the honey in her tea in the evening. She always makes you a cup too. 

She shows you the wildflower honey giddily and points you onward. You stick close, following her direction as it keeps your head from spinning. You go to crocheter’s stand with stuffed animals meant for the children shouting and running around more than you. That whale might be cute but you’re not a child anymore, are you? 

You carry on. Bev shows you several other things. A little compact mirror with mother of pearl on the case and a hand-painted wooden chest you could put on your dresser. The dresser she bought in the room she gave you in the house she pays for. 

“You really don’t need to buy my anything. The ice creams good enough,” you say as your doubt bubbles over but it’s too loud for her to hear you. And she’s too distracted. 

Aunt Bev stands on her toes, though she’s already a tall figure, and waves at someone. She grabs your wrist and you wince as she pulls you through the swaths of people. You want to tear away as her grip makes you itch. You don’t like being touched. You’re not used to it. 

She pulls you to another row of stalls and stops before a medley of plants. There's a little chalkboard sign in the corner that reads ‘Cole’s Corner’. Pots line the top of the table, cacti and spider plants and succulents. Their green and lovely and lush. 

Bev lets go and you stare down at them. They’re familiar. They’re pretty. You could smile if your ears weren’t burning from the bustling people around. 

You’ve always known soil, always known the smell of pollen and the tough roots of unwanted weeds. When you weren’t trapped in your room, you were stranded in the garden, searching for bright petals or nursing wilting stems. Out in the dirt, you didn’t have to worry about anything. 

Often Aunt Bev found you in the plot she allotted you among her rose bushes and tulips. The space you made your own with the gnome you painted yourself. That was one of her little crafts she liked to do. She always had an idea for something or the other; waxed-linen to use as reusable bowl covers or tie-dye tee shirts. 

You stare down at a pot of aloe vera. The pot is clay; the base is brown and the top is painted white. You admire the jutting rigid leaves as the chaos around you settles into the background. You lean in closer at the burst of colour behind it, a bunch of pleasant pink begonias. 

“Cole,” your aunt chirps, “busy today.” 

“Sure is,” the man behind the table answers and your eyes flick up as you nearly jump.  

You hadn’t seen him. You were too distracted by the fauna. You don’t know how you didn’t. He’s tall and his blue eyes twinkle as they meet yours. You quickly shy away as the sight of his soft hay brown hair lingers in your mind. 

“This your sister?” He asks. 

“Oh, Cole, don’t be silly. You can flatter me all you like. You’re still a horrible salesman.” 

“Usually works,” he chuckles, “daughter?” 

“You’ve met Lena,” she chides then introduces you by name, “this is my niece. Hon, this is Cole. He grows these all himself.” 

“Ah, the niece,” he snaps his fingers. “I remember.” 

As he turns away you continue to peruse. Your cheeks are burning. You’re suddenly not as content to browse the plants. Not as you feel the sting of that man’s gaze nipping at you. It’s just the way he’d looked at you. Maybe just that he’d even saw you. 

Suddenly, a pot wrapped in burlap is set down in front of you. You examine the yellow petals and peek over at Aunt Bev. She grins and her gaze trails between you and the man. You gulp and turn back to once more consider the flowers. 

“Daylily,” you murmur. 

He leans in and lets out a scratchy noise, “that’s right.” 

You suck in your lower lip. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Your lashes flick up then down as you can’t figure what to do with yourself. 

“You like flowers? Your aunt says you spend all your time in the garden.” 

You shrug, then nod, and once more dart a look over at Aunt Bev. She said all that? To him? Why? 

“How about that one?” She comes closer as she reaches for her purse, “it’s her birthday. I’d like her to get something nice for her.” 

“Can’t go wrong with day lily. They keep bloom for a while but each blossom only lasts about a day,” he turns the pot slightly as he speaks, “symbolic of devotion and forgetting worries. They brighten the place right up.” 

“So?” Aunt Bev nudges you with her elbow. 

You dip your chin, “um, sure, okay. Thank you, Aunt Bev.” 

“Flowers are always a good gift. These ones won’t need much in the winter either. They’ll come right back,” he explains, “is that all?” 

“Yep, I think you’ve bled me dry,” Bev kids as she hands over her money, “I only have so much room left in the backyard.” 

“Ah, don’t got that problem on the farm. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do with all the land,” he counts out her change from a metal box. 

“Must be nice. I swear, living in the city can be so... suffocating,” Bev mopes as she tucks away the coins. “Go on, hon, you wanna carry your flowers?” 

You mutter your acquiescence and step forward to reach for the pot. Before you can, that man, Cole, slides it out of your grasp. “Wait, one minute.” He turns and digs around in a crate hidden beneath the perpendicular table, “it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” He pulls out a ribbon, the same colour as the daylily, “just put a proper bow on.” 

He ties it up in a drooping uneven bow. You peek up at his face as he gives it a helpless smile and shrugs, “not perfect but... happy birthday.” 

He pushes the pot towards you and you cautiously take it. His large hand brushes yours and you quickly bring the flowers against your stomach, recoiling a step back from the table. His fingers fall onto the table and he taps them. 

“Oh, wait,” he turns once more and digs around, this time in a bag on the top of the table, “Marvita brough these over from her booth.” He takes out a small box and lifts the lid to reveal an array of macarons in a variety of hues, “I can’t eat them all.” he shoves the box at you, “please.” 

You don’t move but Bev eagerly accepts one; a pink one. “Go on,” she urges, “live a little, birthday girl.” 

You scrunch your mouth up and slant it this way, then that. You take a cookie; a green one. As you hug the plant with one arm and retract the other, you remember your manners. A tingle runs through the back of your hand, a memory of those lessons, as the ‘thank you’ tumbles off your tongue. 

You look up and once more your eyes meet. You blanch and swiftly turn away. 

“No problem,” he says brightly, “hey, Bev,” he calls as she goes to shuffle away, “next week?” 

“Eh, I don’t know, my husband’s been on me about the spending,” she laughs, “we’ll see.” 

“Oh yeah, see you then,” he snorts, “you too, I hope.” 

“Uh, bye,” you wave with the cookie and hurry past your aunt. You know he’s talking to you but you can’t face him. He’s just being nice and you won’t be back. 

“I love those, they’re so pretty,” Aunt Bev reaches over to touch the petals, “such a nice man, isn’t he?” 

[concreteburialplot]

Cruel

Pairing: Nicholas x F!Reader

Masterlist: here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Cocky Asshole!Nick, stereotypical cliché rockstar behavior, toxic af, petnames, fingering, oral (f receiving), p n v, cream pie, canon big fat co-, dramatic and cliché, ~making love~, happy ending, lightly edited, [you deserve better than men like this!!!], 18+ MDNI

Summary: Your long time on-again/off-again love finds you the second his tour bus reaches home. Even with your walls up, he charms his way into apartment and back into your heart.

A/N; Not my best work but this wip has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, finally decided to let it see the light of day. Enjoy 💕 Also… this almost became a Jake Kiszka fic…

“You paint a picture of us, just to burn it. Fool, I’m a fool if the shoe fits.”

- Cool // Gracie Abrams

The minute the GPS was set to home, there was a buzz on your phone that had been absent for the past two months. You unlocked it mindlessly, thinking nothing of it, but the second you read it your heart sunk to your stomach.

❌DO NOT ANSWER❌:

Gonna be back in town around midnight.

See you then?

Absolutely not. Why would you do that to yourself again. Yet, against your better judgement, you answered.

No.

You sent back simply, with your heart pounding in your ears.

He replied almost immediately. The speed of it made your heart flutter but you had to remind yourself that he was probably just bored on a tour bus. That you were probably just the easiest option after having an endless pick of groupies on the road.

Oh, c’mon don’t be like that

We could have fun

The thought of having him again sent a wavering behind your ribs that you quickly tried to squash down. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. No, no, no – you repeated in your head like a mantra.

You: I don’t have fun with you.

Nick: It sure didn’t seem like that before I left

It was a half lie. While you did have fun together, he always came at a cost. He was never yours, not fully. Right before tour was always the worst.

While he was home everything felt different – domestic even at times, and each time you convinced yourself it’d be different, that that time would be the one to stick, that he would stay yours. But then weeks leading up to tour things would change, he’d grow distant, and fights would spawn out of nothing. In an instant, he wasn’t the man you were in love with. Love wasn’t a word you ever threw around in your label-less relationship, but it was felt, at least on your end. Regardless, sex was the one thing that always kept you two together – but it made you weak and pliable.

You: That’s not true and you know it

Nick: Just let me see you, we can talk about it

You mulled it over in your head. Your heart wanted nothing more than to see him again but that was exactly the reason you needed to resist. It was a war between your head and your heart and for once, your head was winning. You were sick of the rollercoaster of loving him, sick of getting your heart broken repeatedly. This tour was the biggest and longest they’d ever done, almost double their usual length, and the fallout with him before he left was the most damaging it’d ever been. The extra time apart allowed you to process the pain and assess the relationship. You’d been able to accept it for what it was and come to terms with the fact that you’d never have him the way you’ve always craved. While he was away, you grieved the crumbs of your situationship and chose yourself for once. Though, the pain that bloomed from that decision felt like a betrayal to your heart in the moment, but you knew it was for the better.

You know it’s for the better.

You: I don’t want to see you, Nicholas.

Nick: I wasn’t aware we were lying to each other now

Heat rose to your cheeks and your stomach churned in anger and pain as your brain flooded with infinite memories of him lying to you.

You: Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you

Nick: Just let me see you

You: No. Why the fuck should I let you

Nick: I wanna talk Nick: I have something for you

You: I don’t want anything from you

Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. Sometimes he’d bring you little nothings from his travels, but nothing notable or worthy of being a bargaining chip.

Nick: Just let me see you.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, his persistence was wearing you down. It’s a horrible thing to be lovesick for a man who gives you just enough slices of dopamine to make you forget why you were mad or cautious in the first place. It was toxic and thrilling all at once. It was nothing but lies – both from him and yourself. Your heart was beginning to feed you false truths like: he could just come over, you’d call him on his bullshit and let him leave without him getting to you.

You gave into him, like you always did.

You: Fine. But you leave when I tell you to. Nick: No problem. See you in an hour.

You mentally scolded yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel the flurry of butterflies running rampant in your stomach.

After a while, you checked the time and noted that about an hour and a half had passed. Fear and disappointment trickled down your spine at the idea that he might not even show up after you gave into him like a fool. It made you sick to your stomach even though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that.

About 10 minutes later you heard a knock at the door and adrenaline spiked in your bloodstream. You took a look in your full-length mirror and smoothed out your silhouette. While you fed yourself the lie that nothing was going to happen, your hands chose a flowy sundress that laid mid-thigh.

When you opened your door, you were met with Nick in comfy clothes, clearly fresh from off the tour bus. As indifferent as you should’ve been, you couldn’t help but take notice of how good he looked with his hair up in a messy bun. Still, just the sight of him felt like a dagger through your already bleeding heart. It was a torturous duplicity being so in love with him, yet so heartbroken from just looking at him. All the work you did to suppress and heal your wounds crashed back down to square one. The second he spoke you knew you’d made a horrible mistake.

“Hey.” He smiled and you could tell he suppressed a smirk.

“Hey.” You replied flatly. Your resiliency was already begging to falter. You hadn’t heard his voice in months, and it stirred something in you – something both vicious and compelling. You came to realize that this was a dangerous game you chose to play.

His eyes fluttered down your frame, soaking in the vision of you completely. “You look,” He paused, and you expected something vulgar, but he surprised you. “Fantastic.”

A peachy hue grew on the tops of your cheeks at the compliment, and you silently reprimanded yourself for letting him get to you already.

He stepped closer to you, brushing your hair just behind your bare shoulder to admire you fully. “All this for me?”

And just like that, the flutter in your stomach fell along with the edges of your lips. Your eyes begged to roll at the question, but you restrained it to just a scowl.  “What are you doing here, Nick?”

“To see you silly.” He said nonchalantly while his crystal eyes held something more you couldn’t place – it was like a glint of something deeper than he was letting on. “Now let me in, won’t you?”

You sighed and stepped aside to let him past you. “You said you wanted to talk?” You pressed against the door to close it behind you. When it clicked into place you rested flat against it with your arms crossed.

His head tilted around the small space to take it in, even though it wasn’t drastically different, any remanence of him was gone. Then, he met your eyes again to answer your question. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

You groaned, unraveling your arms to ball your fists at your sides. “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

So much for keeping your cool.

He huffed out a maddening laugh. “All worked up, are we? Must’ve been really frustrated while I was gone.”

“Actually, it’s been real fucking peaceful.” Your arms crossed back over your chest. “What do you want, Nicholas?”

“I wanted to see you.” He said earnestly, this time with less smugness to it. “And to give you this.” His arm went behind himself and into his back pocket only to pull out a palm-sized stuffed black cat. He held the sitting stuffie in his hand on display.

Your heart sunk the second your eyes landed on the stuffed toy. Both anger and heartache bubbled into your stomach, into your veins and all across your skin. Your shoulder muscles stiffened reflexively. “Why the fuck would you bring me that?”

The truth was that the cat contained more than just stuffing – it represented a past floating idea of a shared black cat between you. Whenever you two were at your best, you discussed adopting one together. You’d keep it at your place since he’s so often away from home, but it would be shared nonetheless. It never happened of course, but there he was holding a physical placeholder for it.

“I saw it and thought of you.” He said infuriatingly nonchalant, though you couldn’t tell if the ignorance was genuine or not.

You crossed the threshold between you and snatched the stuffie from his hand. You squeezed it by its sides in front of his face, “This is cruel, and you know it.”

While you were fuming, there was still a small pathetic part of you that swooned at the fact that he remembered such a small thing.

He reached out to graze up your jaw to your chin. “Even when you’re pissed at me you’re beautiful.”

You smacked his hand away from you, not wanting anything to do with him or his dizzying games. “You are such a fucking prick, and you know it. You know what this little toy means to me, and it means nothing to you.” You nearly spat at him while you shoved a finger into his sternum.

He grasped your wrist, keeping it in place as he stepped forward. “Who said it doesn’t?”

The air between you seemed to dissipate, leaving your throat barren of oxygen. Yet, your self respect held strong against his convincing words. “You’re a liar. A cruel liar.”

He closed the gap between you further until his lips were hovering just above your own. “I’m not lying.” Your nose filled with his scent – peppery cologne, weed and beer. It wasn’t the most pleasant mixture of smells, but it was him and he was something you’d missed and longed for the past two months. His smell and his proximity had your chest swirling with love and desperation. You wanted – no – you needed him to be telling the truth this time. It had to be the truth.

“I’m not lying.” He replied softly with his eyes falling from your own to your lips then meeting your gaze once more. “Let me show you how honest I’m being.”

It wasn’t your smartest move, giving into him so effortlessly. He just made it so easy to believe anything that came out of his pretty mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time you fell for his tricks and unfortunately, something told you it wouldn’t be the last.

When your lips met, it was electric, sparking and hot. You weren’t sure if that was just what he’d always felt like or if it had just been months since he touched you last.

It didn’t take long before his fingers frantically tangled in your hair. You matched his energy, curling fists into the base of his bun. He stumbled you both back onto your couch with your lips glued to each other’s. The kiss was full of fire and pent-up tension.

You ended up with both knees on either side of his hips. Your lips landed on the spiderweb tattoo on his neck, immediately sucking at the ink. He let out a hiss at the intensity of your suction. Your hips swiveled over the bulge growing in his pants.

“Fuck.” He groaned and tugged at the hem of your dress, silently asking you to pull it off.

You detached from his neck briefly and yanked the sundress off your body tossing it on the floor. Before you could return to your spot on his neck, he grabbed your face to meet his lips again. It was messy with teeth clashing and hasty tongues fighting for dominance.

Your hands fumbled between your bodies to unzip his jeans to let him out. You wondered how he was even able to stay in his pants with his massive size when he was hard. You took him in one hand while the other stabilized you on his shoulder. He groaned into the kiss as you worked him in your hand.

His fingers curled tightly into your hair, “I need to fucking be inside you.” He all but growled.

You nodded quick and breathless, you needed just the same. You tugged away and spit multiple times onto his impressive size. It had been months since you’ve had him, there’s no way this wasn’t going to hurt.

You lifted on your knees, as much as you could, Nick helped by pushing your panties to the side and sliding his fingers up and down your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet for me.” His fingers dipped inside you, just a fingertip deep to gather some of your juices and used it to better coat your entrance. He paused and his brows furrowed a bit. With how full you felt with just one finger you could only imagine what he was thinking. “You’re going to need more prep than this for me.”

You whined, but you knew he was right. It had been so long since you’d taken him, and your cunt needed time to refamiliarize itself with his size.

Your hand never halted on his length, and it was obvious on his twisted features and his mouth slightly parted. No matter how angry you were at him, it didn’t take away from how pretty he looked when he was drunk off of you.

He pumped his finger slowly in and out of you just to set a pace before adding another. A small gasp fell from your lips at the addition and stilled all of your movements.

“Just relax baby,” He soothed, and you softened in his hold. “That’s it, let me take care of you.”

It was a weighty thing to ask of you, but your mind turned to mush the second his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. Your eyes rolled back, and your chest gave way to him. “Fuck, Nick.” You muttered out pathetically.

“I missed you.”

-was the last thing you expected to hear from him in that moment, but you were so lost in euphoria that you couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Mmmhm.” You hummed as your eyes fluttered closed. “Missed you too, Nicky.”

You were absolute putty in his hands, he knew exactly how to work you into whatever he wanted. You were easily pliable to him, and in that moment, he was grateful for it. He placed a soft kiss to your collarbone, then another at the base of your neck. “Missed me how, angel? Tell me.” He whispered, his voice low and crackly.

Your jaw fell slack when he added a third finger but you were so worked up that it hadn’t been that difficult. It still burned but the pleasure he was supplying to your clit was overshadowing any pain.

“Use your words, princess. Let me hear how much you missed me.” He was practically begging you for any morsel you’d give him. He’d never admit it but he was desperate for you too. “Tell me baby, did you touch yourself thinking about me?”

Your head lulled to the side, cascading your hair over your shoulder. “Uh huh.” Was all you could muster.

“Mmm. Like this?” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that was rarely touched by you or anyone else.

You gasped at the feeling in tandem with his thumb on your clit. His fingers pulsed against the soft inner tissue in a rhythm that made your brain numb. It was a spot only he had ever really been able to reach, either with his fingers or his cock. He knew your body better than anyone else ever had and he was good at it.

A smirk played across his lips, evidently satisfied with your response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The warning of an orgasm burned in the pit of your tummy, filling it with tingling warmth. It must’ve been all over your face because he caught on quickly. “Oh, what’s wrong? Is my pretty girl going to cum already?” He spoke smoothly up your neck while his fingers increased their speed ever so slightly, just enough to tip you over the edge.

You abruptly grabbed hold of his shoulder, squeezing it with every bit of strength inside you as your orgasm washed over you. The euphoria began just below your navel then spread electricity across your skin. You felt it everywhere, down to your fingers and your toes.

He let out a satisfied chuckle against your throat, “That’s my girl.” He praised and held you as your body began to collapse against him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

When you were finally spent is when he really came to life.

“Fuck I need to taste you.” He exhaled and as soon as you nodded, he snatched you, holding you with both hands securely below your ass. He was in a frenzy, like a shark that just smelled blood. “I want to taste all of you, every bit of mess you just made.”

He hastily carried you over to the bed across the room in your small apartment. He laid you gently, but impatiently, on the edge of the bed with his lips planted on yours.

You barely had time to miss his lips before his tongue latched onto your clit and his fingers returned to their place inside you. He brought you back down to just two fingers in order to give you a bit of reprieve.

Your mouth immediately created an ‘O’ shape with wide eyes at the skill of his tongue. “O-Oh.”

He ate you hungrily as if he hadn’t had pussy in weeks which historically, when he’s off on tours, was quite the opposite. He gave you no time to get caught up in your thoughts with the way his tongue slithered ‘S’ motions from your clit to your entrance, then taking his time at your throbbing bud. He lapped up every bit of your orgasm, not wanting to leave anything behind. The feeling bloomed a sparking heat from the pit of your core to the rest of your body and you silently cursed him for making you feel so good.

When you glanced down you noticed that while he was bent eating you, his hand had been on his cock – gliding up and down swiftly and in rhythm with his fingers and tongue. You thought that might’ve been the hottest thing you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the way he couldn’t not touch himself while eating you.

You let out a tiny moan at the sensation of his tongue against your swollen clit. But god did he feel good. It had to have been his extensive body count that made him good in bed and while you didn’t like thinking about it, you were surely grateful for it in the moment. His tongue expertly spun around your nub with various patterns. You couldn’t help but wiggle around at the stimulation to which he hooked his arms around your thighs and brought you to the edge of the bed. His knees met the wood floors, his tongue never once wavering. When he pulled your bud into his mouth with a suck you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

You shook your head, while he felt amazing, you needed more. “I need your cock, Nick, please.” You begged, pathetically.

His lips curled into a smirk against your core, placing a soft kiss at your clit. “Whatever you wish, princess.”

Your heart swelled and your tummy swirled at the name, it was your favorite, and he knew it. You were convinced it was the best sound in the world when it fell from his lips.

He pressed kisses up until your mid torso before pulling away. You whined at the loss of contact, but you knew it was only for something better. You squirmed at the attention and parted your legs even further, wanting more.

“Look at you, all laid out for me.” He cooed, with his eyes wandering across your body trying to choose his favorite part of you. His fingers trailed up your thighs, taking his time to savor your skin. “Okay, now baby, take a deep breath for me, will you?”

You did as he instructed but your breath hitched in your throat as he slid his fingers inside you once more, this time adding a third finger again. It burned a bit, being stretched out that much, but you knew it had to be done in order to take him fully.

“Good girl.” He hummed as he began pumping his fingers in a slow pace. After some time familiarizing you with the span of his fingers, he decided he wanted to take it further. “Actually, can I have you a different way?”

You nodded, too fucked out to deny him of anything.

His hands were rough when he flipped you over onto your stomach. His pointer and ring fingers slid up, spreading your lips open to let the tip of his cock sit at your entrance. He leaned down to just beside the shell of your ear.

“I wanna hear how bad you want it.”

You let out a near guttural groan at the statement. You were clenching around nothing just at his proximity.

“Oh c’mon, I can feel how bad she wants me.”

“Please, please I need your fucking cock.” You begged.

He smirked against your skin, “Good girl.” His hips moved forward, slowly pushing himself into you. You could feel yourself parting around him painfully, even with the prep you did. Your hips stiffened up not quite remembering how to take him. He took his time, carefully moving deeper inside you.

“Now tell me baby,” He hummed, dipping his fingers down between you. His fingertips slid around his girth to feel where you and he became one. You wondered if he could feel the burn that he was causing. “Has anyone else touched this pretty pussy while I’ve been gone?”

The question caught you off guard, quite literally the last thing you ever thought he’d ask you in this situation. Your eyes instinctively wanted to widen but you squeezed them shut instead. Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Oh, c’mon now, be honest.” He teased in a patronizing tone.

You swallowed all the saliva left in your mouth and pressed your lips shut tight. You knew you couldn’t lie to him, especially not in such a vulnerable position. The truth was that you tried any and everything to get him out of your mind - which landed you some vices in your time apart. You and Nick weren’t anything of substance, nothing official. You were sure Nick had to know since it had come up previously and he never seemed phased by it – you knew about his tour hookups, how would this be any different. Regardless, you had no idea why he was even bringing it up and wished he wouldn’t.

He didn’t seem to like your silent pause and halted his movements. “If you don’t answer I’ll stop.” He threatened.

You groaned in frustration and threw your head down into the mattress. “Fine, fine,” You spat out in defeat. “Yes. One.”

“Hmm.” He stretched out the noise to emphasize his disbelief. “I think you’re a poor liar.” His fingers grazed over your clit briefly, just to remind you what you were missing. “Don’t lie to me baby, you won’t like the outcome.”

You sighed, feeling defeated and helpless beneath him. “Two.” It was the honest truth. One of them he knew about, a long-time casual friends with benefits. The other, was a drunken mistake from the bar on a particularly lonely night.

He sheathed himself fully inside you, “Yeah I can tell.” He said in a pointed tone, and it caused your brows to furrow, wondering what exactly he meant by that. “Oh, don’t worry I don’t mean it that way.” His fingers trailed down your side to hook into your hip, pulling you flush against him. “I can tell by the way you’re trying to adjust to me.” His voice was smooth and deep. “Like your body got too comfortable with something less than me.” His hips shifted back just to fall back into you, hitting you right in the spot that made your stomach twist. It was painful but delicious, reminding you exactly why you’d made this mistake with him so many times. “Or is that what you prefer now?”

You shook your head quickly, you didn’t want anything other than him, you never had. As rocky as your relationship had been, Nick was always the one who owned your heart. It never for one second had been held by anyone other than him in the past couple years. It was sad how loyal you were to him when it was obvious that he never felt the same – at least not in a committed way. “No.” You breathed out. “I want you, Nick.” You looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes and they were filled with something that felt almost like jealousy, but you’d never known Nicholas to be jealous. He’d always been very fluid about your connection – always very clear about the openness of your relationship.

“Say it again.” He demanded while his hands held your hips in place as he slammed back into you in one swift move. His tip landed straight into your cervix, causing a jolt of pain up your spine.

“I want you, Nick.” You repeated with a strained voice.

He finally began a slow rhythm in and out of you, almost like a reward for listening to him. He reached forward and grasped your chin to get you to look back at him again. “Again.”

Your brows knitted at his request – it seemed almost cruel for him to have you repeat the obvious. “I want you.” You whispered. Tears began to well up in your eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was from your emotions or from the burn of him stretching you out. He squeezed your cheeks at the sight of your tears, silently asking you again. “I want you.” You squeaked out, trying to keep the tightness in your chest at bay. “I want you, I want you, I want you.” You repeated over and over, now letting tears flow freely down your cheeks. It bloomed an ache in your chest that you never wanted to feel in the middle of sex.

Suddenly, you felt him pull from you completely but before you got a chance to question it, he flipped you over onto your back. You were only vacant of him for a millisecond before he slid back into place between your legs. He hovered over you, his unraveled hair gathered onto one side of his head, brushing against your shoulder. “I don’t want you to ever question that again.”

“I never did.” You admitted embarrassingly quick. “What’s this about?” You questioned, wondering why you were having this conversation while he was still inside you. Though, he was never one to choose an appropriate time to talk about things.

“I missed you.” He repeated his statement from earlier that you were too fucked out to process. His voice was raspy with lust, but genuine. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You blinked up at him and shook your head, not wanting to get caught up in his empty promises. “Can we just talk about this later?” Although, the moment had already been squandered for you.

“No.” He continued his slow and steady pace while his eyes were set on yours. “I mean it. I want this. I want us.”

Your eyes grew wide in disbelief. You’d never heard him sound so serious about anything, nonetheless about you. “You do?”

“I’ve been an idiot. All I wanted to do was come home to you.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “And the idea of someone else touching you makes me sick. I’m selfish. I want you all to myself. I want you to be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Nick.” You whispered with brows curved up in sincerity. Even with flings and vices your heart never beat for anyone else, you could never love another – no matter how stupid it made you look. You were stuck on him whether you liked it or not. You’d always been his even when he wasn’t yours, even when he wanted nothing to do with you.

His grey eyes shifted between your glossy eyes trying to read your honesty. He said nothing more before uniting your lips into the deepest kiss you’d ever felt. Love was a whisper lingering on your tongue, but you knew tonight wasn’t the night for that. Passion quickly spread from your heated kiss to the speed of his hips. His thrusts were fast and hard, though they weren’t fueled by a promise of an orgasm but rather by a need to show you exactly how he felt. Your entire body bounced against his rough repetitions, and it was overwhelming in the best way.

His head fell into your neck, his heavy breaths against your sensitive skin sent tingles across your body. “You’re taking me so well.” He muttered below your ear. His hand found your leg and ran his fingers beneath it, pulling it up from behind your knee and bending it towards you as far as it would allow. The new position spread you out even more and made sure you felt everything – the way the head of his cock embedded itself into your g-spot and the way your walls stretched around him. “Doesn’t that feel good baby, being so full?”

You let out a moan as your eyes rolled back. “Fuck yes.” It was the truth, no one ever filled you like he did.

“Uh-uh.” His hand grasped your cheeks. “Eyes on me.”

The sensations of everything were enough to fill your clit with buzzing need and you gasped when his thumb found it. Your eyes widened as he began rolling small circles into it in time with his quick pace.

“Oh-oh.” You stuttered out pathetically as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, threatening to snap already.

“Take your time baby, there’s no rush.” He soothed but it only accelerated your already impending orgasm. Your fingers curled into his arms harshly, surely hard enough to leave half-moon imprints into his skin. “Oh, I know, I know.” He comforted.

That’s all it took to unravel you. Tingly warmth spread across your body, making every inch of you feel blissful. It was enough to temporarily blind your vision as you got lost in the immense pleasure that was overtaking your entire being.

“That’s it angel, just like that. I want all of it.” He said softly below your ear, but it was clear with the shakiness of his own voice that he was close too.

His speed became rapid and erratic as he sensed you reaching the height of your peak. “Fuck.” He murmured into your neck as he slammed his hips into yours faster than you could process. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.”   

All you did in response was cross your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. It didn’t take long for him to meet you in your climax. You felt his cock twitch and pulse inside of you followed by warmth pooling in the deepest part of you.

When the moment was over, Nick took his time, tenderly ensuring you were both clean and comfortable. Aftercare was something he never skipped, but tonight, he seemed especially patient and tender. Once he’d helped you into your favorite pajamas and made a warm cup of tea, he pulled you gently into his side.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” he said, peering down at you with a sincerity that made your heart ache.

You gave him a small knowing nod, too spent to say more. Curled against his side, a quiet apprehension settled over you, memories of past mistakes lingered softly at the edges of your mind. He was the last person you should trust, but your heart couldn’t summon the strength to turn him away. So, you chose to believe in him once more, silently hoping this time would be different and that his words were true. As he held you tighter than ever, your choice felt right. Finally, he was yours, and you were his.

A/N; thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts<3

Taglist; @measuredingold @ladyveronikawrites @deathblacksmoke @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning

[liminalmemories21]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @welcometololaland, @heartstringsduet, @strandnreyes @whatsintheboxmh - thank you!

Sorry I've been MIA the last week or so - work was insane, and then there was a friend's multi-day wedding thing going on (A+ wedding, would let her plan all future weddings I go to). Also, please bear in mind I have not actually had a chance to see the episode yet, because see above about A+ wedding related shenanigans.

But ....

He’s late to Elian’s birthday. He didn’t mean to be. He never means to be late these days. “I just need to stop by the station," he said this morning as they were getting ready. He'd caught the way TK’s lips tightened, but all he’d said was. “I’ll come with you." “No, baby, you’ll just have to sit in the car.  That’s no fun.” TK eyebrows had gone sky high.” I’m not allowed in the station anymore?” “That’s not what I mean.“ TK’s muttered, “are you sure?” is just soft enough that he ignores it. And now he’s late, the one thing he wanted to check turned into five things and then a conversation with Campbell and a lead to check on.  It wasn’t wasted time.  But by the time he makes it back out to his car there are two messages from TK on his phone — a few months ago he thinks there would have been more, and he’s not sure when TK decided to stop trying so hard to get him to come home.  There are messages from his mother and sister too. He ignores them and sends TK a text / on my way /. Doesn’t get a response, which makes sense — he’s at Elian's party, probably helping Ana, or letting the kids use him like a personal jungle gym.  The party is still going strong when he pulls up to Ana’s house, but the look she gives him when he walks in is unimpressed. His mother looks worried, and all TK says is, “You made good time, light traffic?” “Yes. “  Smiles at Elian who has appeared at TK's elbow, “Happy birthday!” The eyebrow Ana gives him promises a longer conversation, and he’d be grateful that Luisa couldn’t make it out from LA, but he’s sure Ana will fill her in on all the ways he’s failing to live up to their father’s standard. Their father had never missed a birthday, or play, or recital. He doesn’t understand how. Wishes he could ask.  He can tell TK's pissed when they leave from the set of his shoulders, isn’t sure if it’s better or worse that they’d come in separate cars and can’t drive home together. Manages to catch him before TK gets in his car. “Hey, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.“ “I figured.” “I’ll make it up to Elian. He probably didn’t even notice I was late there were so many people here.” “He’s 8,” TK says flatly. “He absolutely noticed that his favorite uncle didn’t make it in time for cake and presents.”  Carlos winces, but tries for the joke anyway. “Pretty sure you claimed favorite tio a while ago.”  Regrets it the second he says it.

tagging @freneticfloetry, @carlos-in-glasses, @reyesstrand, and @lemonlyman-dotcom

[michellemisfit]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thanks for creating the game and for the tag @jrooc thanks for the tag @vintagelacerosette

Today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Michelle, michellemisfit

Current Location: Living room, surrounded by feathers, as I’m currently fletching some arrows

Favourite picrew: This one is pretty fucking spot on. Or at least it was at the time. Hair is very different now. But then, hair is always different… lol

Also this one is spiritually VERY me

What's one thing you want in a picrew? Ability to add coloured streaks! And a wide selection of scars, or alternatively the ability to move them around the screen. Either is fine. But mostly the hair thing. My hair is generally 4 different colours. Don’t try and limit me to one!!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Erm… 3 way tie between Mexico Gallacrafts, Fimo Gallavich, and Cookie Gallavich? Maybe? Argh. Turns out, looking back at my art tag… I’ve created some pretty cool stuff. Huh. Yay me.

Why is it your favourite? I don’t really do photography, and I’m really proud of the idea behind and the execution of that photo. And while I LOVE drawing more than anything, I don’t think I’m exceptional or anything. But I’m damn creative when it comes to silly 3D craft projects, so both Fimo Gallavich and Cookie Gallavich make me happy and feel like something not just anyone could do… I dunno.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? It was LONG to create. Both cookie and Fimo Gallavich took several days in total. And I think that’s the other thing I like about myself. I am willing to put in the work, and it usually pays off.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Hah! You’ll be able to corroborate this, I’m not just sucking up!! LOL I’m currently reading Camp is a Battlefield by @blue-disco-lights, @jrooc, and @mybrainismelted, with artwork by @creepkinginc, so that’s the last one I commented on :)

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I mean… every single WIP I have ever started reading, only to realise that maybe there won’t be any more of it… 😱 Every. Single. One. They’re all special, and they all hurt in their own special ways. And I will remain subscribed to all of them FOREVER, because you never know!!

Also? Comment on WIPs. Tell authors how much joy the story brought you, how much space it’s occupying in your brain, how much you would love to see it continue but how happy you are to have read as much of the story as there is because it’s changed your brain chemistry… do NOT comment saying ‘next chapter when?’, cause that makes you a dick bag.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I’m a sucker for fake dating, only one bed, and a soulmate AU 🤷🏽‍♂️

Least favourite? …not a huge fan of kid fic, but hey, all it takes is a great author to make it work.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Again, do not kink shame, because you’re only ever one good fanfic away from discovering something about yourself you did NOT see coming…

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Exhausted and antsy. Is it good enough? Are people gonna like it? Should I even bother anyone with this? Why don’t I just go and hide under a rock forever?? I felt okay about this when I finished it, why is it suddenly the worst thing to have ever been created??? …I wish there was a sense of calm and accomplishment. There is not. Brains suck!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @deedala - I so appreciate how we’re on a similar wave length when it comes to art as well as ‘everybody wants to hunt me for sport’ vibes. I know I can always count on you for kind but honest words, and that’s so important!!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Read comfort fic. Probably Like Real People Do or None the Wiser.

Edit: Also? Go and read comments and tags on old art posts. That’s a sure fire way to cheer me up!

This was fun, and made the 15 minute wait between fletching each feather pass much faster. Thanks!!

If you are currently making your own arrows and need something to occupy your wait time with… how about completing a tag game? lol

@heymrspatel @loftec @creepkinginc @deedala @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @iandarling @iansw0rld @ian-galagher @mybrainismelted @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @mikhailoisbaby @sickness-health-all-that-shit @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @energievie @junemermaid @francesrose3 @deathclassic @faejilly @rutherinahobbit @gallawitchxx @look-i-love-u @jessij1997 @callivich @celestialmickey @wehangout @doshiart @lynne-monstr @the-rat-wins @blue-disco-lights @suzy-queued @sleepyfacetoughguy @spookygingerr @burninface @gallapiech

[waywardstation]

HAPPY WIP WEDNESDAY!!

This one is to promote @bananacreamphi ‘s dojoshipping week prompts !! I’m participating in it with a fic and accompanying art, each day’s prompt making up one of its seven chapters.

Even though it’s obviously for dojoshipping, just like all my other works you can probably read it entirely platonic as well if you want.

Here is a WIP from it!! It’s a little shorter today because the chapters themselves are shorter.

The overarching story is essentially Ingo helping Zisu fix up the dojo for a festival, because he’s sort of the one that busted it up in the first place with all his battling — it’s a plot that was taken from one of my fake fic title ideas when I was doing those!!

Enjoy! Wording is (VERY) subject to change.

————

“About that, Ingo,” Zisu laughed a little, but it felt more like she was just trying to keep the mood light. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Oooh, you’re in trouble~” Akari’s teasing remark was bursting at the seams with amusement as she elbowed him. It seemed she was already fully aware of the subject, and had been waiting for Zisu to bring it up — her perceived delight only encouraged preemptive embarrassment to heat Ingo’s ears.

“Why am I in trouble?” Straightening his back as stiff as his tone, Ingo set his chopsticks down against the table under a flat hand, immediately looking at Zisu.

“He’s not in trouble,” Zisu pointed at Akari with her chopsticks before turning to Ingo. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I feel like I’m in trouble.”

“You’re not…” A pause, as the last syllable stretched out. “…exactly, in trouble.”

Ingo could only feel himself growing warmer in the face, and Akari’s snickering off to the side wasn’t helping. “Please don’t delay this any longer, what did I do that has caused such a concern?”

Zisu’s answer wasn’t immediate; while she was probably trying to be gentle about it, the effort only doubled the dread. “Well, you know the welcoming festival coming up in a few days?”

“…Indeed,” Ingo spoke slowly, giving a reaffirming nod. He couldn’t not know about it, what with the newly-finished homes; now empty but soon to be filled by residents traveling across the ocean, it was all anyone was talking about right now. But what could he possibly have to do with any of that?

“Kamado wants the entire village to be at its best for our new residents when they arrive — and I mean the entire village. Every building, every street, every bucket, every grain of dirt, it has to be perfect. Well he came by the training grounds early this morning, before you had even gotten there, and he was…” A pause to figure out how to put it nicely. “Not particularly overjoyed with the current state of it.”

“Oh,” Ingo could see where this was going now. “Oh dear.”

The dojo was sturdy, but it was not indestructible. Ingo was well aware that the battles he conducted at the training grounds were never delicate or subdued. They were oftentimes quite intense with Akari’s help, and over time, such intensity left wood paneling splintered, paint chipped, and dirt in areas there certainly should not be dirt.

No one could deny that it had considerable wear and tear, noticeable from afar and unsightly up close. That was certainly not a presentable sight in a village that apparently needed everything perfectly in place for this festival, down to the specks of dirt on the ground.

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged in last week by the amazing @eevylynn ❤️

I'm currently editing chapter nine of the poets are right, so here is just a li'l snippet of that! Full chapter expected out this weekend 😊

-

“Hi!” Eli says.

Derek’s jaw clicks as it works around his thick swallow.

“Hi,” he echoes back, the single word coming out more than a little bit breathless. “I... I’m Derek.”

“I know,” Eli replies breezily, twisting his neck to shine his grin back and forth between his fathers for a second, settling onto just Derek eventually. “So. Do you wanna come see the backyard? I got a new lacrosse stick for my birthday a few months ago, you can help me practice?”

Stiles feels as though he could say with relative certainty that Derek would say yes to doing literally anything that Eli wanted right about now. Tossing a lacrosse ball around, letting Eli kick him repeatedly in the nuts, a literal demonic summoning ritual out underneath the old oak tree. If it was on Eli’s to-do list for the day, Derek would probably be agreeing to it in a heartbeat.

Luckily for him, it seems to be just a little light sports on Eli's agenda.

Clearing his throat, Derek nods his head jerkily, transfixed eyes never leaving Eli’s grinning face. Stiles does not miss the way that Derek's trembling hands are slowly flexing and unflexing at his sides.

“Of course, that sounds – that sounds great.” Derek blinks rapidly, like he is trying to shake off the escalating intensity of his stare. With a small tip of his head, he finally manages to tear his gaze away from Eli, sliding it across the room and over to the Sheriff. “It’s, uh – it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

As soon as today’s visit was pencilled in, Stiles made sure to have a very stern and very frank conversation with his dad. A clear talk to assert that, no matter what either of their opinions on Derek might be, they are not allowed to behave in any manner but perfectly civil and passably polite while in front of Eli.

The kid needs a chance to develop a relationship with his other father without Derek and Stiles’ history coming into play. This is about Eli, his dad had agreed, grumbling and eventual, after a hushed and heated argument ended only by Stiles’ proverbial foot stomping down onto the ground.

Which is the reason – Stiles thinks, at least – that his dad’s reply to Derek is simply a quick and only slightly clipped, “Yes. Likewise.”

Stiles tucks an arm behind his back to lift a subtle thumbs up in his dad's direction. His dad huffs in vaguely grouchy response to it.

“C’mon,” Eli says, wasting no time at all in wrapping his fingers around the crook of Derek’s elbow and beginning to tug him over to the door leading out to the backyard. “I’ve been waiting to test this thing out for ages. Grandpa can’t play with me anymore because of his back, and pops just plain sucks at lacrosse.”

“Thanks, kid,” Stiles deadpans as they pass him.

Eli does not even pause his steps as he throws a cheeky grin towards his pops.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but, just a second before he yanks the door open and starts pushing a still mostly bewildered Derek through it. “See you later!”

-

Low pressure tags ❤️ @raisesomehale @crownofstardustandbone @dear-massacre @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop

[deeversuswords]

a/n: no inspiration? take a shower (joking, or maybe not?). ended up drafting a 3.6k words oneshot that'll probably end up not as one, but two chapters, and I'm so excited about it.

so, here's a small peek at this bakugou katsuki x reader, exes to lovers (there'll be two smut scenes too 👀). hoping my words flow 'cause damn are they letting me down with my wip long fic...

When Katsuki had lost you, he had lost and never felt like he won anymore. When you had walked out through the door, belongings packed, you took a fundamental part of himself with you. Two years later, and his ability to love another was nowhere to be found. He functioned. Crawled through life and achieved. But not once did he stop looking for the traces of you. Still, his efforts were in vain. He never found you again.

The universe refused to answer that one burning wish he had for reasons he no longer understood. Was he bound to feel like this forever? Empty in your absence? Cold when another warmed his bed? Incomplete, despite being almost certain that someone out there had to fit with him? A torment. Every single fucking day. From morning to night, night to morning. Awake or lost in dreams—better yet, nightmares. He dreamed of you so often, his subconscious rubbing the what-ifs in his face. He should’ve kicked his fear of losing you to the curb and showed you off to the whole world instead. Like you deserved. Years and years, he had boasted of being strong, as being the best. Yet when it came to you, he was weak. Weak because life taught him early on how fleeting it could be. One moment here, gone in the next. That thought was rooted in his subconscious, and while it wasn’t an excuse, it made him act out more times than he could count. “I don’t understand. Why can’t we be seen together without all this stupid disguise?” you would ask and his response would always be the same pathetic excuse, “You wanna paint a target on your back that bad?” And you would give him this confused look that never failed to feel like a gut punch before saying, “…I can take care of myself, Kat. You made sure of it. Besides, you’d never let anything happen to me.” "What if I'm not there? What if I am and you end up getting hurt because I didn't see it coming?" would be his argument that rang true to both of you. But it was those what-ifs that bred insecurities, and before he knew it, with tear-stained cheeks and in a small voice, you had said, “I’m just not enough for you, Katsuki. I tried and I failed. I’m tired.” He, too, had tried to stop you, to express his fear. You refused to listen, too fed up with him, too sick of being his “dirty little secret” as you so bluntly put it. His “dirty little secret” you remained for he never talked about you with anyone. Not his parents, not his friends. His heartbreak was his and his only, and Katsuki gladly succumbed to it. He deserved the punishment—to drown in regrets and shame. Katsuki hurt you, his missing half, his person who loved him for him. So, when whatever the hell aligned so that behind the door where his hookup for the night was supposed to be stood you, the last two years flashed before his very eyes. And then, he could swear his whole fucking world exploded in color and light; though, that might’ve just been his heart finally, finally beating in the now.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  LadyKailitha! @ladykailitha has 33 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 32 of them are in the Steddie Tag.

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @ladykailitha:

Little Runaway

Staking My Claim

I'll Be Your Knight

Eddie's Big Stevie Rescue

"LadyKailitha is a wonderful writer both on Tumblr (shout out to WIP Wednesday, makes my day!!) and on AO3! They absolutely deserve all the recognition and respect for their work. And now I'd like to share the love 🫶"-- anonymous

Below the cut, @ladykailitha answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’m obsessed with them. LOL! On a more serious note, it’s because I relate to the two characters a lot and want to see them happy.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Childhood friends. I just love watching them be friends as kids and then grow apart and then back together again. I could read it a billion times and do it again. As long as there’s a happy ending of course.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

AUs. Just all of them. I like canon Eddie and Steve, but putting them in different worlds and still finding ways to make them who they are. chef’s kiss

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so many good ones but one that I’ve read several times is STRIKE TEN by oaseas. So good.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

That’s the best part of steddie is not knowing there’s a troupe I want to write for until inspiration strikes. Like I never thought I’d do a sugar baby/daddy AU, but I’m currently writing one. Ditto for omegaverse, but now I’ve written two from the same universe. But as I’m typing this… probably sentinel/guide. The idea has always intrigued me.

What is your writing process like?

First is day dreaming up an idea. Then depending on how long the idea is, I’ll do a short write up about. If it’s long, then it gets treated with plot beats I want to hit. I don’t consider it an outline, because they aren’t in order. Then I will sit down and start writing. I will do at least 400 words a day and keep at it until I have at least 3 or 4 chapters into it before I start posting.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I have to have a backlog of unpublished chapters because I worry if I’m not putting out stories people will lose interest. It’s also so that if I write myself into a corner I can go back a couple of chapters if I have to and change it to fit the new direction the story is going.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely on a schedule. I’ve tried waiting until I’m done and I just get too excited for other people to read it and start posting.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Well Met By Moonlight. I’m really proud of the world building and mystery.

How did you get the idea for Little Runaway?

When I first got into the fandom, there was a severe lack of Eddie and Steve postseason 2 and I really wanted to lean into that a bit.

When writing Little Runaway, what was something you didn’t expect?

Max becoming a reader insert in a way. Where you see the characters through her eyes at the end.

What inspired Staking My Claim?

LOL! Steve licking Eddie’s hand like he was a cupcake he didn’t want to share.

What was your favorite part to write from Staking My Claim?

Jeff. I loved how he just kinda rocked up and said, “As Eddie’s boyfriend, you are now my responsibility and no, you don’t get a say in this.”

How do/did you feel writing I'll Be Your Knight?

I love this one. It really does not get enough praise honestly. I loved the idea of the sound of Steve’s lighter as he lights and puts it out over and over again. I just really loved the idea of Steve guarding Eddie because he’s part of the group now.

What was the most difficult part of writing Eddie's Big Stevie Rescue?

The subject matter. It’s one of my darkest fics because Steve gets slipped a date rape drug and the fall out of not trusting the people you care about with the deepest parts of yourself. Also, keeping the tension ramped up.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I absolutely love the scene with Billy and Steve from “Never Hold Back Your Step…” when Billy gets Steve’s lifeguard job and Steve calls him a washed up surfer. That whole takedown was cathartic as hell.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m currently working on a couple that I think are just so much fun. “The Hellfire Exotic Club” a stripper AU that has been a blast to write. And “Of Butterflies and Backstrokes” the Olympic swimmer AU. I’m proud of that title, too.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

nope!

Thank you to our author, @ladykailitha, and our anonymous nominator! See more of LadyKailitha's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[roomwithanopenfire]

Happy Wednesday!! Thanks for the tags @noblecorgi @rimeswithpurple and @monbons!

I have a lot of days off this week and I've been doing so much resting, writing, editing, and socializing. It's been everything I've needed!

Everything's getting closer to wrapping up WIP-wise. I'm so so close to being done editing all the chapters for Proof of Life and then the only thing I'll have to worry about is posting them. And the posting season for COBB is upon us!! I'm so excited see what everyone's been working on, and show my fic and the absolutely beautiful art from my artist!!

Here's a snippet from the next chapter of Proof of Life:

The Wavering Wood welcomes me back.  Or probably not… I doubt the wood likes me being there. I eat their deer. Rather, I’m welcoming myself back. The forest air fresher than ever, the sky bigger, the light brighter.  I take a deep breath, letting myself feel everything. The slight breeze in my hair, the packed earth under my feet, the scent of pine and dirt and blood. Crossing the drawbridge into the woods has never felt better. My fangs slot into place.

Tags and Hellos!

@alexalexinii @angelsfalling16 @aristocratic-otter @arthurkko @artsyunderstudy

@beastmonstertitan @blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @brendughh @brilla-brilla-estrellita

@cccloudsss @cutestkilla @drowninginships @emeryhall @facewithoutheart

@fiend-for-culture @hertragedyconnoisseur @horsesarenotdeer @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature

@ileadacharmedlife @larkral @m1ndwinder @nausikaaa @onepintobean

@prettygoododds @raenestee @rbkzz @rimeswithpurple @run-for-chamo-miles

@shrekgogurt @skeedelvee @supercutedinosaurs @talentpiper11 @thewholelemon

@valeffelees @you-remind-me-of-the-babe + anyone else who wants to share! I love being tagged in these! (And let me know if you ever don't want to be tagged!)

[aristocratic-otter]

Hey, for once I’m posting early!  Thank you to : @blackberrysummerblog, @rimeswithpurple, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @artsyunderstudy,

@roomwithanopenfire, @larkral, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @wellbelesbian, @letraspal,

@prettygoododds, @bookish-bogwitch, and @whatevertheweather (good to see you back!) for the tags over the last two weeks. 

The summer has been good for me. I’m getting organized and having more time to write! I’ve started the new fic I teased a couple of weeks ago (the one that I was waiting to start until Heart in The Well finished). It’s probably going to be my angstiest one to date, fair warning. 

Here’s one snippet from each of my WIPs 

From Saving Simon Snow: 

“So, you think,” Bunce says slowly, “that the act of casting a spell is calling more magic to the area?”

“Kind of,” Simon says.” His lips twist and he tugs at his sleep-matted curls as he tries to work out how to explain himself. Then he shakes his head. “Actually, no. Not calls more magic. More like takes the magic that’s already there and concentrates it. Gives it a shape. Like, Normals are the source of magic, right? And they produce magic in and of themselves, but they can’t use it. It’s just, like, loose and spread out around them as they go about their lives. But then mages, we use words to give that loose magic a form, and that pulls it together, right? Pulls it into the shape the mage wants it to have. And so doesn’t that mean that Mages are pulling magic from the magical atmosphere each time they cast a spell?”

From Snow Fox: 

Every nerve in my body is on alert. 

I sent the boys home. They’re probably not the reason I’ve been betrayed, but right now, I can’t trust anyone. 

Except Simon.

I need to get to Simon. 

But first…I need to make sure I’m actually alone.

From TikTok Dancer: 

He’s dancing alone. His friends are there, running the music and cameras, but they’re also different. Quiet and focused. Also, if I’m reading their expressions correctly, they’re just a little bit worried, as they watch Simon dance. 

The whole thing makes me feel unsettled and oddly light. Like there’s a bubble of helium in my chest that will soon lift me right off the ground. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that Simon Snow never takes his eyes off of me when he dances. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

When I’m feeling greatly daring, I travel back to our home beach. I stop a distance away, and stay behind trees or rocks, but it gives me some comfort to watch the flicker of shadows in the firelight as Simon moves around performing his evening routine. It’s the only time I allow myself to watch him. If I see him during the day, my priority is to stay out of sight, but there’s little danger that he’ll go traipsing about looking for me after dark, so the darkness is my ally.

It hurts, to see him. But it’s a pain that fortifies me. After a few minutes watching him, I’m able to rest more peacefully knowing that he’s safe and well. The pain of missing him subsides enough to let me continue to live without him.

From Cupid’s Shield:

 “Baz, fight it. You have to. The anathema—”

Now I know he’s aware, in some form. I see fear on his face and tears forming in his eyes. But, at the same time, he’s reaching up to the collar of his own shirt, and ripping it away from his skin. 

That’s it. He’s helpless against Cupid’s spell. He’s going to lose everything because a fucking god with a grudge tore his free will away.

That’s probably my fault too. I pissed Cupid off. He must have hunted down Baz because I was immune to his arrows. That means it’s my responsibility to fix this. 

“Please,” he whispers.

From The Rat and the River

I’m aware that I don’t need to be out of bed right now. Simon Snow will be completely fine without me seeing him off. I could probably sleep for the hours the team will be gone, as there won’t be much for me to do until they’re back. 

Like I could sleep when Simon is out there. In the hot zone. 

It’s a sensationalistic term, “hot zone,” but it captures how I feel about the area of highest risk of infection. Hot, as in getting in hot water or hot as in playing with fire. 

Also hot as in Simon Snow is the hottest man I’ve ever known, even in a shapeless white positive-pressure suit, but that’s irrelevant right now. 

And from my new project, untitled as yet, the following: 

I feel myself slipping. 

Other than the daily cup of blood with a bendy straw, I haven’t seen light in weeks. Maybe months. And for the last several days or weeks, I’ve not even had that. I’ve woken up from a doze to find the blood already inside the coffin with me. I spend more time drifting, semi-conscious, than I do actually awake and aware now.

After all, there’s nothing good about being awake and aware. 

Tags and shout-outs to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,

@frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22,

@moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade,

@upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget,

@confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost,  @thewholelemon, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi,

@hushed-chorus, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt (happy birthday!),

@cosmicalart,  @cutestkilla (also happy birthday!), @theearlgreymage, @alexalexinii, @Iamamythologicalcreature,

@emeryhall, @ileadacharmedlife, @messofthejess, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @best--dress,

@nausikaaa, @youarenevertooold, @j-nipper-95, and @facewithoutheart

[mawrblaidddrwg]

WIP Wednesday - Sons of the Saiyans

“Please don’t make me go in there. Chi-Chi will never let me see the light of day again if she finds out that I was in a strip club,” Goku was half hiding behind his hands as Vegeta dragged him by his arms towards the black painting building.

“I don’t want to fucking go in there either! I’m not a pervert like R—” Vegeta stopped mid sentence realizing what he was about to say. He swallowed hard, pushing the name down his throat. Still not able to speak it out loud. “But that’s where the people we need to talk to are,” Vegeta said.

“Easy for you to say, Vegeta! Bulma would probably be thrilled to be in there. She probably has a stack of dollar bills ready to go,” Goku grumbled, his cheeks turning crimson. “Chi-Chi is going to throw hot coffee in my face if she finds out.”

Vegeta had to think very long and very hard about anything else other than the visual of Bulma at the Red Ribbon. He took a deep breath in; he had to focus on the task at hand.

When they entered the doors of the Red Ribbon, Vegeta clicked the safety of his gun that was tucked into his jeans immediately. After all, he was the one who ended the ceasefire, so it seemed only appropriate for him to be ready to fire at any moment. Goku put the hood of his sweatshirt on over his head trying to squeeze it as tight as possible to himself, resembling a turtle attempting to hide inside of its shell.

“Kakarot you’re so fucking embarrassing,” Vegeta sneered feeling even more disgusted about having to enter the Red Ribbon with his cousin.

Vegeta braced for the loud, violent sounds of dance music pounding his skull once the door opened, but instead was greeted with the melancholy riffs of How Soon is Now. Several dancers paused upon his entrance into the bar and he noticed the lack of patrons. His black eyes did a quick sweep of the premises and right away he noticed the blonde woman who shot him the last time he was here. She immediately pulled out a shotgun from behind the bar. She was wearing clothes this time and seemed to be the bartender instead of a dancer, adorned in a short acid washed skirt and off the shoulder top.

“We come in peace,” Vegeta said holding his hands up and pretending as though he hadn’t just clicked the safety off of his gun.

“Right, sure. And I’m Madonna. Nice try, asshole,” she cocked the shotgun and aimed it at Vegeta’s head, who held his ground with his hands still up.

“Hi, um Miss. We are here to talk to someone named 17,” Goku said realizing that any impression Vegeta would attempt to make would result in their heads getting blown off.

“You look very familiar,” she said warily, nodding towards Goku behind the barrel of the shotgun.

“My uh—” Goku swallowed the bitter pit lodged in his throat, “my brother, Raditz was a frequent visitor here.”

She eyed him suspiciously for a long while until she seemed to accept his answer. “Are you here to shoot 17’s kneecaps off too?”

“Technically, I only shot one of Gero’s kneecaps,” Vegeta corrected her before she gave him a pointed glare. “But no, that’s not why I’m here. I have a business matter to discuss with him.”

“Fine, hand over your gun then,” she walked around the bar still pointing the shotgun at him.

“I don’t have a gun,” Vegeta lied.

She shot the gun at the floor near Vegeta’s Dr Martens and shattered a black tile from the black and white checkerboard pattern on the floor. Goku nearly jumped out of his sweatpants, but Vegeta didn’t even flinch. The sound of bullets ricocheting being the closest thing he could think of to a bedtime story.

[whinlatter]

Hello!! First of all I wanted to say I’m obsessed with your writing ❤️ Your hinny feels so real and nuanced, and I really appreciate how well you address their trauma and struggles they might have in their relationship while also showing their deep love for each other. Because of this, I would LOVE to hear any thoughts you have on what Harry and Ginny would be like as parents, such as what their biggest challenges would be/how they'd get through it, etc (and if you have hcs about the kids that would be the icing on the cake 😁)

you are a true angel for this! although i do (of course, always) have takes on harry and ginny as parents, i'm going to save them for another day while i still have other writing bits to do. BUT what i do have is a WIP fragment of a dad!harry and james scene that i originally wrote for the orchards sequel and that i'll probably never do anything with but that i sort of like anyway, because james is my favourite potter child for no reason other than i love the idea of harry potter and ginny weasley having accidentally given birth to someone easygoing/ronald weasley 2.0. i really hope you enjoy!

In the kitchen, four o’clock, sunny day, warm. He takes the potatoes out of the oven, gives them a good shake in the tray.

‘It’s nice, our house.’ 

When he looks up, James is at the kitchen island, going to town on an enormous bag of crisps. It’s a source of professional anxiety how easy it is for his children to sneak up on him. ‘Glad you think so,’ he says to James, as he puts the potatoes back in the oven. ‘You’ve only lived in it your whole life.’

‘Yeah, but I never really thought about it before.’ Big bite, raspy crunch. When he turns back, James is looking out of the kitchen window, peering into the garden, like it's his first time seeing it. ‘When you’re little, you just think it’s your house, don’t you. You don���t think, hey, this house is nice. You just think, this is our house.’ 

‘I suppose not. Don't fill up on crisps, you'll not want dinner.'

His son scoffs at that - as well he might, the appetite on him these days. Gin says it's a Weasley birthright. With another munch, James starts examining the ceiling beams. 'I like it,' he says decisively. ‘It’s a good house. Big, loads of light. Homely. Good garden, plenty of bedrooms. Gets sunshine from all sides. Not far from Granny and Grandpa Weasley’s. Near the sea.’ 

‘Is this you telling me you’re considering a career as an estate agent?’

‘Nope. Just saying.’ James considers his next crisp clutched between his forefinger and thumb. ‘Reckon I’ll raise my kids here, too. Leave it to me in the will, won’t you?’

‘Not sure about that one. What about Al and Lil?’

Dismissive wave of a hand. ‘Easy. I’ll pay them off. There’ve got to be some perks to being the eldest son. First-come, first-served, that’s the rule.’

'And Teddy?'

'Easier still. He still owes me for running over my foot in that driving lesson. I've been limping whenever I see him, laying the groundwork.'

He looks at James, black birdnest of hair, bright brown eyes, scrum of freckles. He’s got quaffle blisters on the base of his palms. 

‘You’re doing it again.’

‘What thing?’

‘What thing, he says. Staring at me. That sentimental thing you do.'

‘I don’t do a sentimental thing.’

‘Yeah, you do. Al and I take bets on how many times you'll do it at family events. Your eyes get that spaced-out look. You’re about to tell me you love me, aren’t you?’

‘I do love you.’

'Yeah, yeah.' Eye-roll from James, though he's grinning. Tosses the crisp packet in the bin with a Chaser's precision. They take love in their stride, his children: receiving it, giving it out in spades. 'Listen,' he says, 'about those roast potatoes - very important - '

‘Crispy. I’m on it.’ 

'Good man,' says his son, and heads for the door. 'Back in a bit. I'm going to go map out where I'm going to put my swimming pool.'