#so uhhh I just kind of wanted to say thank you because I somehow no longer have single digit of followers? and I never expected that?

[corrodedcoughin]

X

#hi hello it’s only me hiding in a tag post woo #so uhhh I just kind of wanted to say thank you because I somehow no longer have single digit of followers? and I never expected that? #like people in Steddie town are just so nice??? and I’ve never posted or actually written anything befor now #and the fact you all just let me carry on and comment back and send asks? #and just generally engage w me??? when I just talk shit? #and we all just riff off of each other and just get stupid and post nonsense but then go deep into tender posts? #idk man I’m just having a really good time and I’ve not felt confident to post it be actively in a fandom before #always just watched from the side lines #so basically #as a thanknyou can I do something? somehow? idk just want to do a thank you thing #if anyone wants a post or an uno reverse prompt? idk I just want to say thank you!!! #and I really appreciate you!!! and thank you for being here!!! #and making your posts!!!! #okay this is the last time I’ll be like this for a while I promise #hope you are all having a good day!! #keep #adding that after posting because some people left really nice comments and I don’t want to lose them

[wolfiesmoon]

A rare ingredient

Inumaki x gn!reader

sometimes only being able to say onigiri ingredients gets a little tough on our boy :(

@kairiscorner just tagging you since you wanted to read this!!

The upside of having a crush is, well... everything good that comes along with having a crush. Your smile is the most beautiful thing ever to him. He feels oddly happy most of the time and especially happy when you're by his side. He wants to share everything with you, every minute detail of his life.

The issue is, however, that you've only transferred to Jujutsu High recently and can't understand anything he says. Unlike his other classmates who reply with "thanks" and a grateful smile to "spicy cod roe" as is intended, you simply give him a confused smile every time.

And that doesn't even cover the fact that he doesn't have any words to describe his love for you. He wouldn't have them even if he were able to talk normally like everyone else.

"Kelp." he greeted you, waving.

"Ah, hello!" you inferred that he was greeting you, waving back to him. He swears you look better every day and help but gaze upon your amazing face.

He is eternally grateful for the uniform that covers the lower part of his face, because he doesn't think he would have gotten away with blushing so much around you otherwise.

Normally he would surprise you by sneaking up on you from behind but after you told him that freaks you out he stopped. You're the one person he's willing to make that exception for. Maki isn't as lucky, unfortunately.

"...Tuna mayo." he never knows what to tell you, and considering his limited vocabulary, that would be kind of hard to do anyways. It's fair to say that you do most of the talking when alone with him.

"Uhhh, I met up with my non-sorcerer friends today." you always assume the role of storyteller with Toge. He's a good listener. Though you don't know why he always insists on staying by your side.

"I didn't tell them what I've been up to, of course. They wouldn't believe it anyways. But aside from that, we went to our favourite café that we frequented all the time in middle school." you smiled fondly at the memories that flooded your mind at that moment.

"Salmon." he wants to be invited to that café, too. Prefferably just the two of you. On a date.

You smiled awkwardly at him, nodding. You never know what in the world he's trying to tell you so you just "smile and wave" most of the time.

He furrowed his brows slightly, then looked off, seemingly thinking really hard about something. You raised an eyebrow in question.

"...Prawns." ("...I love you.")

His eyes met yours, and your eyes slightly widened. Did it finally get through to you?! Did you somehow understand his little confession?!

"You've never used that one before..." your expression returned to normal, still smiling at him, atlhough a bit intrigued by the rare ingredient now.

"By the way, are you alright? You're making a weird face." you moved closer to him, inspecting the upper half of his face.

"Caviar." he covered his face with his hands.

You're going to be the death of him.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗ #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toge x reader #toge x you #inumaki toge #inumaki x reader #jjk inumaki #jjk fluff #inumaki fluff #toge inumaki #inumaki x you #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki toge fluff #inumaki toge x you #x fem reader #jjk x you #x gender neutral reader #x male reader

[yournowheregirl]

my mind’s been stuck on secret dolly parton fan southern!eddie and suddenly it sprouted 2k of fic so uhhh here ya go? more to follow! (unbeta’d btw) [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 1: jolene

He might not look it, but deep down, hidden beneath the leather jackets and silver chains, Eddie Munson is a good old-fashioned southern boy. If you heard his uncle talk, you’d know he’s not from around Hawkins, but Eddie has mostly hidden his roots over the years. He had traded in his faded blue jeans for ripped black ones, his momma’s country vinyls were hidden away and replaced by heavy metal tapes and his drawl only comes out when he’s drunk out of his mind, calling everyone darlin’ and sweet pea. 

He misses Tennessee sometimes, though he doesn’t remember much. He misses the warmth of the people and the sunshine, he misses the cornbread his old neighbor Mrs. Carter used to make, but he mostly misses his mom. Misses her laugh and the way she tucked him into bed with a song every night, always with the same Dolly Parton song. 

Maybe that’s why he always reaches out to Dolly when he’s feeling down in the dumps. 

And all because of Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington.

He doesn’t really know when it started exactly. Maybe it was back in high school, when Steve just filled out those gym shorts way too nicely. Maybe it was that summer when Eddie kept wandering through Starcourt Mall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve in that damn sailor outfit. Maybe it was going through hell and back and somehow coming out alive, matching demobat scars and all. 

He doesn’t know when, all he knows he’s halfway in love with Steve and it’s frustrating to say the least.

Frustrating because he and Steve are somehow friends now and friends apparently talk each other’s ears off about their respective love lives. Including Steve’s endless supply of flirtations with girls at Family Video, just like today.

Steve’s been sweet talking some girl named Emily for the past twenty minutes now, really laying it on thick. Telling her how nice this shirt looks on her, how pretty her eyes look, how she really should find someone to watch Sixteen Candles with. Eddie turns away so that Steve won’t see the way his eyes roll at yet another one of Emily’s adorable little giggles. 

It’s not even justified, the nasty feeling in his stomach, the green snake of jealousy that slithers around his throat. It’s not like Steve is actually his. He’s just Eddie's friend. Eddie’s great, very straight, very much ladies’ man, friend. So Eddie keeps his mouth shut, grips his copy of The Thing a little tighter and pushes that feeling way deep down as the bell dings and Emily disappears through the door.

“Ha! Harrington’s back, baby!” Steve exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“What are we celebrating?” Eddie asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Got a date this Friday.” Steve grins. He wiggles a piece of paper in between his fingers, probably with Emily’s phone number scribbled on it. 

“Nice.” Eddie says with a tight smile, hoping to God that Steve’s still too smitten to notice the way his body has gone all rigid. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty nice isn’t she?” Steve sighs happily. “Just hope she’s the one, y’know? I’m so tired of all those first dates, asking about each other’s siblings and favorite colors and I just… yeah, I just hope she’ll be the one.”

“Rooting for you, man.” Eddie says and oh my God, what kind of bro talk is that? Eddie wants to kick himself, but he just looks away instead, dropping the VHS on the counter.

“Thanks!” 

And he just looks so happy. His eyes glistening with hope, his lips (oh god his lips) turned into a victorious smile, his entire body just exuding confidence. Eddie really shouldn’t be mad at him, not when he looks like that.

Instead Eddie spends the entire drive back to the trailer park fuming and thinking of little miss ‘I-Hope-She’s-The-One’ Emily. Now, his momma raised him to be a gentleman but that vicious snake that made itself home in his stomach makes him want set fire to Emily’s stupidly perfect pleaded skirts. 

He’s so pissed off that he misses the exit that leads to Forest Hill, and instead he just keeps on driving. Past the luxurious villas, past the wide open fields, past the Leaving Hawkins sign. He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, he just knows he has to leave. 

He only stops when it starts to turn dark outside and he spots a few warm lamps just on the side of the road. After closer inspection, it turns out to be a roadside bar, hidden away beneath some trees. Eddie’s stomach rumbles and he realizes that he hadn’t eaten since noon, so he parks the van and walks towards the bar, aptly named Off-Road.

Once Eddie steps inside, it’s like he’s suddenly back in Tennessee. He’s seeing men in flannel, shooting whiskey at the bar. Women in plaid dresses, dancing along to some honky-tonk song that’s playing on the radio. The wall decorated with all kinds of things that just scream Americana, old-faded photos of farms, a row of cowboy hats, an acoustic guitar on the wall.

He can’t believe what he's seeing, so he almost stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hiya kid. What can I get ya?”

Eddie looks up to see a small, but buff woman standing behind the bar. Her silver hair is cropped short and pulled back by a red bandana and the tassels on her leather vest swivel as she cleans a glass with a dishrag.

“Uh, just a Coke, I guess?” Eddie says. “Do you also serve food?”

“Yeah, mac ’n cheese’s on the menu today.” The woman smiles, busying herself with finding a bottle of coke beneath the counter. “What’s your name kid? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Eddie.”

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie. My name’s Pat.” Her voice is low and silky smooth, with the southern twang Eddie only hears when his uncle talks. “You from around here?”

“Hawkins.” Eddie nods. “But originally from Tennessee.”

Pat’s face lights up. “No way! Me too! Small world.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Eddie says. “Pat, can I ask… what is this place?”

“Oh this ol’ place?” Pat laughs. “This is just a lil’ home away from home. I’ve moved here for Tish, she’s the one in the green dress over there.” She waves towards the other side of the bar, where a woman with dark curls is scrubbing one of the tables. “But I’ve always missed home, y’know? So, we started this place a couple of years ago, 

“You and Tish are…” Eddie trails off, not sure if he’s put the right puzzle pieces together.

“Tish is my partner, yes.” Pat’s smile fades and gets replaced with a stern look. “You got a problem with that kid?”

“No!” Eddie says quickly, waving his hands in protest. “No, not at all. I’m… I’m also gay, y’know.”

“Tish!” Pat calls out, smiling when Tish looks up. “We got another one!”

“Stop adopting gay kids, Pat!” Tish calls back. “We’re running out of rooms!”

Eddie laughs. He’s gonna like it here.

-xxx-

After Pat’s absolutely heavenly mac ’n cheese, Eddie finds himself relax more and more and for the first time, he lets out his accent without any alcohol in his system. It’s not like anyone will make fun of him for it here, he thinks that Pat probably would encourage him to be as southern as he can be.

He chats with Pat and Tish and some of the other patrons as the time ticks by. Swapping stories about back down south, laughing at things the people here in Indiana just don’t understand, Eddie’s never felt more at home. 

Tish suddenly excuses herself as the bluegrass music on the speakers fades away. Eddie watches as she walks to the little podium in the far back of the bar and announces that the open mic night has begun and that anyone can join. An older man immediately jumps up and grabs the guitar off the wall and starts playing a song that Eddie vaguely remembers from back home.

“D’you play, kid?” Pat asks. “You look like you play.”

“Yeah, guitar.” Eddie replies. “Not like this though.”

“I figured.” Pat snorts. “You don’t really seem like the Willie Nelson type. But you’re welcome to step up and play us something.”

Eddie hesitates. Pat’s right, the music he normally plays doesn’t really fit in here. This is not the Hideout, this is not the place for screaming bloody murder about the injustices of the world and headbang while Gareth smashes the drums. 

Still, he’s feeling strangely drawn to the podium, especially when his mind provides him with a reminder why he drove away from Hawkins in the first place: Steve and perfect little Emily. And suddenly, he knows exactly what song to play. 

“Wish me luck.” Eddie grins at Pat as he stands up from his seat.

“Break a leg, Eddie.” Pat winks and shoots him an encouraging smile.

Eddie makes his way to the other side of the bar, patiently waiting until the older man finishes his song and whooping with excitement once he plays the final chord. The older man smiles at him, grateful, and hands the guitar over to him as Eddie sits down on the stool in front of the microphone.

“Uh, good evenin’ everyone.” Eddie says into the microphone. “It’s my first time here, actually and I, uh, I don’t even know if I can play this song, but let’s try, shall we?”

The room is eerily quiet as Eddie tries to remember the chords from so long ago, the chords his momma used to play on warm summer days in their backyard. 

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene… I’m beggin’ of ya, please don’t take my man.” 

The words feel foreign and yet strangely familiar in his mouth. It’s been so long since he heard this song, but the words just flow out of him easily

“He talks about you in his sleep and there’s nothing I can do to keep from cryin’ when he calls your name, Jolene.” Eddie’s voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been as he tries so hard to push away the images of Steve and Emily, happily together. “And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man. But you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.”

It feels good, cathartic even, to sing this song. Maybe even better than screaming along to Metallica’s latest album. Not that he’ll ever admit that to anyone, but it’s the truth. There’s no other song right now that understands exactly what he’s going through, that says the things that he wants to say but can’t, not out loud anyway. 

“Please don’t take him even though you can…”

Eddie plays a few more chords until he finally lets the song fade out and the bar burst out into the applause. It’s not the biggest applause he’s ever had (apparently murder charges does wonders for forming a crowd at the Hideout), but it’s definitely in the top three of best post-performance feelings of his life. Maybe because these people just get him, maybe because he can just sing about his feelings for Steve out in the open and no one will judge him or ask any questions about it.

“You got some real talent, kid.” Pat nods as Eddie slides back onto his bar stool.“You’re welcome to come back and sing a little Dolly for us anytime.”

Eddie’s certain that he will.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #listen this is just my dolly loving brain projecting onto eddie #let my boy love country music okay??? #stranger things #alice's writing adventures

[elysianeclipxe]

make the moment last | enhypen niki

warnings: one scene of second hand embarrassment, niki being whipped for reader

genre/au: so much fluff, a smidge of f2l,

word count: 1.3k

summary: every time the moment comes it always gets interrupted by something like a phone call, but not this time, this time niki's not letting that moment go to waste

sidenote: this was requested by anon, so everyone say thank you anon. i kinda fell in love with writing this, it just felt so fluffy. alsooo, just sayingg, love the layout and aesthetic of this fic, super proud hehe.

Niki doesn’t know if cupid was with him or not. Why? Well, you agreeing to go on a cruise with him was the first good sign that everything was going according to the plan. You, however, constantly escaping his MANY attempts to kiss you is somehow incredible and also the series of bad signs that go against his plan. It wasn’t like you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, but after all those attempts.. well, it’s kind of hard to distinguish if you really do like him the way he likes you. 

At this point he was starting to lose hope on if you both would ever have that kiss between you two. Well, it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have any other chance to kiss you. It was just that he spent so much time trying to research what the perfect romantic moment would be for you both and plus you’ve been talking about wanting to go on a cruise so it was great timing. No wonder why he tried so hard with it, saving money for the trip just for that ideal moment. Wanting you to just associate every cruise in the future with the first cruise you had with him, the very place where you both had that kiss. IS IT SO BAD FOR HIM TO WANT THAT?

You know what? Maybe cupid was with him. Maybe he was the problem. I mean, there were so many moments that were perfect to initiate the kiss but it always just ended because of something. Be it your phone ringing, things getting awkward, or him getting too nervous and just backing away or bringing up another topic. Niki shuts his eyes in embarrassment as he remembers his last attempt at the moment.

Niki and you sat on his bed and burst out in laughter after stealing three platters worth of cupcakes that were meant for other people on the cruise. You both catch your breath and you take a bite out of the cupcake, happy with the current feeling blooming in your chest. “You have frosting over here,” he told you as he pointed at a certain point on his face. Your hands tried to wipe that area on your face but you kept on missing, so the only thing he thought to do was wipe it for you. His thumb lightly grazed over the corner of your lip and there it was. The perfect moment. But what did he do? Blabber and ask if you wanted to play some animal crossing on the switch. Right after you left the room to sleep he yelled in frustration, “Ughh, I have got no game! Y/N’S NOT GONNA WANNA KISS ME AT THIS POINT! WANNA PLAY ON THE SWITCH?! SERIOUSLY? IDIOT!”

The male shakes his head, deeply wishing to erase that memory of his. That very very very stupid memory. He pushes himself off his bed, grabs his jacket, and opens his door. Maybe some fresh air on the balcony lounge could do him some good, cause he knew well that if he stayed in his room for another minute he would go nuts. Thinking about the previous attempt was bad enough, let’s not push it.

He walks over to the doors that lead to the balcony and pushes it open. And there you stand in all your glory. Moonlight shining against your skin as you look at the endless body of water. You turn your head and widen your eyes at the surprise of seeing him. “Niki… Hi. I- uhhh, didn’t think you’d still be awake. Do you want me to leave?”

“NO!" He quickly replies, shaking his head at your words. Why on earth would he want you to leave? I mean yeah, he didn't expect to see you but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to see you. Stay calm, it's just y/n. "I mean uh no, that’s fine… Sooo, what brings you here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. My mind is pretty.." you glance over at him and immediately divert your eyes back to the sky when you meet his eyes. He looks nice, really nice. "..occupied at the moment. Thought some fresh air would help me out. You?”

Yeah right 'occupied'. Occupied with thoughts of him. How am I supposed to clear my head now that he's here?? 

“Same, not the sleeping part though. I just kinda need to destress a little. Still, I'm glad to see you here, makes this a lot less lonely.” He smiles at you, taking the spot beside you. Wow, he really is pretty. His smile seems even brighter today.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks spread at his words. Was he always this smooth? You clear your throat and look away. This was bad for your heart. “Ehmm, uh can you believe this is our last night on the cruise? It was a really memorable experience, even more so since I was with you."

"I… I enjoyed it as well, being with you. Kind of don't want it to end.." You lean your head onto his shoulder and grin as you feel him freeze up at the sudden action.

"I don't either… Niki? I’m really glad you brought me here. I've always wanted to go on a cruise, so, thank you."

"No problem. Anything for you, seriously." You tilt your head to look at him and find him already looking at you, taking in just how beautiful you look. This is it, this is the perfect moment. Niki can feel it. He leans in slowly and the distance between you two shortens until-

BRINGGGG

The both of you stiffen up at the sound and he can feel you lean back. You take your phone out and sigh in frustration. Stupid phone call. "I am so sorry, but I have to take this.

'No, don't leave! Stop her, Niki!' He can hear his subconscious yelling at him. Ughh, FUCK PERFECT MOMENTS! If he learned anything from the cruise was that perfect moments were overrated. If he wanted to kiss you, then now is the time. "No, not this time."

He grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. He raises his hand to cradle your face and leans forward till he feels his lips against yours. There it was, the cue of the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, grinning against his lips. Niki feels the both of you melt into each other's touch. He hums against your lips in pure content before pulling away. That was better than anything he could imagine, before he knew it he already broke out into a smile at the sight of you.

He takes your hand into his and bites his lip a little, fiddling with your fingers out of nervousness; takes a deep breath before blurting it all out. "I like you, y/n. I really like you, and you have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you. I have been waiting to do that since the moment I realised that I liked you." He shuts his eyes and waits for you to reply. Ahhhh, he can feel the awkwardness start to settle in.

He's so cute with his eyes shut tight. Did he really think that you were gonna reject him? As if. "I like you too, Niki. So much so that my heart cannot handle how cute you are being right now." He lets out a sigh of relief before showing you his brightest smile.

You quickly pull him into another kiss and feel his arms wrap around your waist. So what if the perfect moment had some ups and downs. That's what made it special to you both. It may not have been a perfect scene, but it sure felt perfect. You break the kiss suddenly and ask, "is that what you were trying to do yesterday in the room–"

"Shhhh, we don't need to talk about that anymore." He hurriedly shushes you and pulls you back in for another kiss. You both laugh against each other's lips and feel your chests filled with love and ease. This was it, this was the moment, the moment that Niki tried so hard for. And it couldn't be any more perfect in his eyes.

I loved this request so much, anon!! I hope you all enjoyed reading. Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated ^^

© elysianeclipxe. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my content onto other platforms.

#astrid writes🌸 #enhypen #enha #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen oneshots #nishimura riki #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen niki #enhypen riki #riki #niki x reader #niki imagines #niki fluff #niki scenarios #riki x reader #nishimura riki x reader #niki #niki fanfic

[inkluvs]

sunburnt

cowboy!steve harrington x reader

content warnings: super fast paced ; fake dating ; they r exes ; uhhh forced proximity i think ; most likely inaccurate southern slang ; (2.0k)

summary: steve and you broke up a few years ago. but you live in a small town, and when you bump into him this time round, you’re told to go for it, or him, perhaps

a/n: ok this is v short just a baby one shot that i’ve been hoarding in my drafts for way too long <3 thank u for reading xoxo

masterlist / taglist

Steve’s nose is dusted pink, the freckled skin sunburnt from one too many times in the heat without protection. His lips are twisted into a smile. The kind that feels rare. The kind that has the same effect on you as a shooting star or an eclipse. You have to stop and stare for just a moment, turning the smile on his face from one of joy to the teasing kind. 

The way you’re staring isn’t rude in any way, just more intense, full of the need to pull at the seams of his very being to figure out how he is who he is; To figure out how the same person, who’d been cooing at a puppy a moment ago, a furry tiny thing, can now be staring back at you with the same intensity, his mouth opening, and closing as he does so. 

The leather hat on his head is a faded brown, clearly well-loved over the years. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, taking with it any hope that he’ll say something — anything.

It’s laughable really, the way that even after all these years you still find yourself staring. That you stayed there. In that fancy restaurant with the fizzy drink you ordered on your left-hand side and the boy, you’d just been staring at in front of you. He was younger, his hair darker and his skin lacking the freckles he’d gain in the years to come.

You stayed there.

In the way Steve put his hand on yours when the words left his lips. The same lips that’d kissed you so many times you’d lost count. The same lips that’d mouthed at the slope of your cheek every time you smiled because he thought it was endearing. 

Your memory isn’t that great really, but somehow you’d managed to engrave every detail of that moment into your mind, down to how Steve’s voice had lifted at the end of each sentence. Like he was asking you a question rather than informing you of something. Like if you’d begged he would’ve listened. 

You thought about it — about pleading with him to stay and asking him what went wrong, convincing yourself for a while that closure was what you needed. But it didn’t seem to matter now. 

No amount of closure could truly satisfy you and time had taught you that. No amount of closure would prevent bumping into him at the grocery store or the way heat still blossomed in your chest when he looked at you. No amount, you’d decided, would fill the gap he’d left in his wake.

“You’re starin’,” the voice comes from beside you, a little boy whose face you only half recognize, “my Ma says it isn’t nice to stare.”

“Yeah?” he nods, “tell your Ma it’s only rude if they catch you.” The boy grins and turns around, no doubt running home to tell his mother what you had said. You imagine she’d laugh at that, shuddering and failing to hide a smile as she tells off the boy for believing such things. The boy would then nod in confusion. Perplexed as to the way his mother’s words and expression contradicted each other, and that would be the end of that. You assume so at least.

What you don’t expect, however, is the boy coming back a few minutes later, this time tapping the man you’d just been staring at on the shoulder. A part of you wants to call out, to stop the boy from saying something he doesn’t know the consequences of, but one small foreign part of you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing. The boy points at you and there’s that smile again splitting Steve’s cheeks, the kind that lights a fire underneath your skin, slowly melting you like wax from the inside out. Steve pushes his hand down quickly, checking to see if you’d noticed before turning back.

“Your Ma ever told you that pointing is rude?”

“She says it’s only rude if they catch you.” Laughter bubbles in your chest like water in a tea kettle and you try your best to suppress it, a huff of laughter making its way from your throat instead. 

“Think this one already has,” Steve gently lifts the boy's hand with his index finger until he was pointing to you again, “Look.”

“Talk to her then.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, though to anyone else it might have been. The concept seems foreign to Steve – you haven’t been in his life for years now so why would he bother changing it now?

“What?” 

“She was just starin’ at you, it only makes sense.” 

“Guess it does,” he lets go of the hand in his, his eyes flitting from yours, now looking back at him, to the encouraging ones of the boy in front of him.

“You’re stalling,” he observes, “why are you stalling?’

“I am not stalling,”

“Why are you here,” Steve tilts his head, as if to say, fair point, before turning back to you. A shiver ripples through his spine, distributing all of his nervous energy to the tips of his fingers and toes. 

One foot in front of the other, he decides. He stepped forward, his right foot now an inch closer to you, then his left, and before he knows it he was tapping on your shoulder.

“Long time,” 

“Wonder why that is,” he almost smiled at that. After all these years, you’re the same. The same tendency to speak before thinking that he had adored at some point, the same crinkle in your nose he’d grown fond of years ago. 

“Sorry,” 

“Don’t go ‘round saying things you don’t mean”

“I do—“

“You don’t.” There is a sort of weary resignation in your voice, the kind that showcases the years you spent wondering what you’d done wrong. He isn’t sorry, and he would make the same decision over and over if he was given the same options today.

His lips part ever so slightly, heart-shaped and pink, “you see the boy over there,” his words topple on top of one another as he rushes to change the topic, “little shit pushed me in this direction, something about it only making sense.”

“Figured,” you pause, considering your next words, “did the same to me.”

“D’you think he’ll notice if we go our separate ways?”

“I think he’d grab us by our ears and push us together like dolls.”

“Doubt he’d be able to reach our ears.” He says, his voice lifting with a crack of humor.

You’re laughing now, a lovely sound he doesn’t realize he missed until he heard it. “Our ankles then.” 

“So we're stuck?”

“Don’t act like this is the worst thing in the world,” you smile. “There were times when you’d pay to be near me.”

“Still would peach,” he murmurs. “S’just an observation.”

“An observation hm?” Steve nods. “What else is an observation?”

He ponders the question for a moment. “You haven’t changed at all, same attitude and tongue like a whip.” That he’d always adored, he wanted to add, but he didn’t, no point in telling you things he’d told you multiple times before. No point in reminding you of things he’d rather not think about. 

“Yeah?” Steve hums in agreement, “And what gives you that impression?”

“The boy,” his voice is low, both rough and smooth in a way that made your skin burn, “when he pointed to you, I asked him if he’d ever been told by his Ma pointing is rude, y’know what he said?” 

You do. “No.”

“He said ‘s only rude if they catch you,” his breath is warm against your neck and suddenly you realize he’s gotten closer to you, “and something tells me his Ma isn’t the one who taught him that.”

“Why would you think that?” 

The corners of his mouth twitch and you mirror him, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. He swallows in a desperate attempt to stifle his laughter, failing a moment later. He’s right. You haven’t changed and you haven’t yet decided if you like that or not. 

He looks at his wrist, as if to check his watch, only to find the skin bare, a slight tan line apparent from hours spent in the sun. His face falls.

“Lost your watch?” you inquire. Steve adores that watch more than anything, though you can never figure out why. You just assume it was a gift of some sort.

“Stolen,” he mutters.

Your lips form an ‘o’ shape for a moment before breaking eye contact, “‘s about to be dark anyways,”

“I’ll see ya later then? Tomorrow?” You can hear the grin in his voice. You can hear it in the way his voice twisted into a pretty breathy noise at the end of his question, hope tainting his tone.

“You askin’ me out Harrington?”

“Depends,” he tapped his chin and you bit your tongue to hold back any remark you’d later regret, instead taking his bait.

“On what?” You wouldn’t ever tell him but you had the incomprehensible urge to squeeze him then, when his grin got wider and his cheeks split with the force of it. To make sure that this moment has substance and it isn’t something you conjured up in your free time.

“D’you want me to?” 

“Think the kid’s boutta answer for me,” his brows pucker, “So yes, for the boy.” You decide.

“For the boy.” He agrees.

“Till tomorrow then?” 

“Till tomorrow.” He agrees. There’s a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you. Treat whatever it is that there still is between you like it doesn’t exist. Assume that every interaction from now on would be for the boy. No matter how much you enjoy it, it couldn’t possibly be because you want it. Ridiculous.

-

He follows through the next day, though you half didn’t expect him to, opening the door to find Steve all dressed up with lavender in a bouquet. You tell him you’re just finishing your hair—you hadn’t even started. Steve can tell, noticing the familiar frantic note in your voice.

“Take as long as you want, yeah? I’ll be right here.” 

The sweet smell of flowers travels down the hallway and reaches the bathroom. Heat blossoms in your chest and rolls over your skin, filling you until your cheeks are full of warmth. You’re out about 30 minutes later, haphazardly pulling a confused Steve into the bathroom to help you pick a necklace.

“Honey, couldn't you have shown me this out there?” He whispers after pointing to a piece of jewelry. 

“Didn’t think of that then,” you turn around and hand both ends of the chain to him before continuing.

“D’you get here okay?”

It’s a dumb question and you know it. He loves less than 10 minutes from you and he’s been to yours more times than you can count. But he indulges you.

“For the most part yeah, rode through a storm or two though.” You can feel a huff of his laughter against your neck as he fiddles with the clasp. Steve had never been good with chains and clasps smaller than his fingers, having grown accustomed to thick ropes and metal and leather reins.

“Oh?” Your lips quirk at the corners. “D’you dry off before you came in?”

“Of course, wouldn’t wanna get mud all on your floor now would I darlin’.” His tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips as he focuses, exhaling suddenly as he finally connects the clasps. “S’that it?”

Your thumb and index feel at the little chain links, searching for the clasp. “You know what?” You smile.

He mirrors it. “What?”

“I think you might’ve done it. Well done, Steve.”

“Did I?” He adjusts the necklace. “Maybe I did.”

“That’s what I like to call growth Harrington.”

“Yeah?” His voice is warm with affection. Positive reinforcement always did wonders for the boy.

You hum your approval, “Last time I asked you couldn’t even undo the latch when I handed it to you.”

“Last time you asked I was 17 and dumb.” His tone is flat like you’d struck a nerve. You aren’t exactly sure why—he’d brought your separation on himself. 

“‘m not exactly sure being able to successfully put on a necklace is what measures intelligence.” He smiles, your attempt to lighten the air having been successful. One day you’ll tell him that you only ask him to help with your clasps because the fire it lit under the skin of your neck was an addictive one. No matter how much time apart you’d spent and how bad he is at it you couldn’t help but crave it. But today isn’t that day.

“Couldn’t tell the difference between a stallion and a mare.”

“Steve, I still can’t do that.”

“Shit like that is part of my job peach.” His voice drops to a dramatic whisper. “Though if you really need to know you could always look at the underside. ‘s pretty foolproof.”

A puff of laughter erupts from your throat. “Steve ‘m gonna ask you somethin’ and you gotta be honest.”

“Shoot.” He seems to know what you’re planning on asking him, warmth flushing his cheeks even before your lips part

“How many times have you done that?”

“Oh come on darlin’ now you’re just tryin’ to embarrass me.”

You smile and his cheeks flush with warmth

“You need humblin’ every so often, I'm just taking it into my own hands.”

“You want me to be honest?” You nod and his voice drops to a whisper, “A lot. More than you would believe.”

“Makes sense. You were always real good at limbo.”

He laughs at that. “You think I’m good at limbo all ‘cause of looking at a horse's underside?”

“You said it, not me.” 

His heart is filled with sticky sweet adoration, the feeling running through his veins and under his skin. “I’ve missed you, peach.”

“You gonna take me out first or not Harrington?”

“How could I possibly forget with you lookin’ like that? You all dolled up just for me?” He tips his head forward, the brim of his hat eye level with you as he takes your hand in his.

You press your hand to your chest, a little dramatic but that’s the point. “Who else would I look like this for, hm?”

Steve grins, the kind that’s gorgeous and just a bit too cocky and you love it. He tugs you out the door with that, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side door before getting in himself.

“Say, the storm you rode through, which horse got stuck in it with you.”

“Think it’s the one you named, Cinnamon.”

“You went through with naming that poor horse, Cinnamon? Steven, it was a drunken suggestion.” He laughs, warm and low.

“Cinnamon doesn’t mind it, I’ll tell ya a secret though,” his voice lowers to a whisper, “I think Nutmeg despises her for it. The whole spice thing.”

“Stole Nutmeg’s thing hm?”

“‘s what she says.”

Your finger trails up the length of his arm, connecting freckles on tanned skin. “‘s romantic y’know, riding the horse I named to my house.”

“Of course it is, I came up with it.” You tilt your head and lift a brow. He laughs. “Not without your help of course.”

You hate how much you perk up when he says that. You hate how much you want yourself to hate him but you can’t bring yourself to, because no matter how many times you thought over the way Steve left you however many years ago, he still has you. And you still have him. And neither of you want to say it, but in this moment the boy that's brought you together couldn’t be further from your mind.

#ivy is writing ! #steve harrington (ivy’s version) #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington concepts #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stluvs #cowboy!steve harrington #cowboy au #steve harrington au

[bun-lapin]

hiya! i saw requests are open so I wanted to request something platonic/silly like game night at ramshackle with the first years?

Hello! Thanks for the request! I had a lot of fun with this prompt but I once again went a bit overboard and probably wrote too much. I decided to experiment with the format a bit as well. Sorry that it took a little bit to finish! Hopefully this is what you were asking for! <3

CW: humor, platonic friendships, just a generally silly time (is this considered a crack fic??)

You walk down the dim hallway, carefully balancing a wooden tray loaded with various snacks and cans of juice in your hands. As you enter the warmly lit lounge, you smile at the lively sight of your fellow first years sitting on Ramshackle Dorm’s antique sofas and chairs and excitedly shouting at each other from across the room. You set the tray of snacks on the low table in the middle of the room as Jack stands up from his seat to address the room. He holds a small cardboard box filled with folded scraps of paper in his hands and announces, “Alright, so now that we’ve finally decided on the teams, is everyone ready to start?” He turns his head to look at each team in turn. The teams are Ace with Epel, Jack with Deuce, Sebek with Ortho, and you with Grim.

Everyone in the room nods and yells affirmatively. Jack grins and declares, “Then let’s get this game of charades started!”

Round 1: Ace ❤️ and Epel 🍎

Epel picks out a paper from the box with a pleasant smile on his face. He reads his selection and his smile immediately drops into an expression of outraged annoyance.

He tries to quickly make another selection but Jack calls out, “Hey! You’re not allowed to pick a new phrase once you’ve read it!” Jack starts the timer and shouts, “Two minutes starting now!”

Epel begins flapping his arms wildly in the air. He occasionally takes a break from flapping to throw his arms in a wide, circular motion over his head. While he’s doing this, he’s also strutting around and bobbing his head back and forth.

Everyone cracks up laughing at Epel’s performance. Ace tries extremely hard to not laugh and puts all of his focus on concentrating on his guesses because time is quickly running out. “Is it some kind of bird? Chicken! Duck!” Ace keeps yelling out random bird species until the timer finally rings.

Epel’s starts yelling and stomping around, “AH CONSARN IT! WUT IN TARNATION WAS THAT?! IT WAS ‘POSED TA BE A PEACOCK!”

Epel and Ace’s phrase was “Pretty Peacock”. Everyone except Epel dies laughing when they find out.

Round 2: Jack 🐺 and Deuce ♠️

Deuce picks out a paper from the box. As soon as he reads it, he looks unbearably confused and conflicted.

Just standing in silence, Deuce puts his head in his hands and everyone exchanges slightly concerned glances. After a silent minute passes, Ace picks up the timer hesitantly, saying, “Uhhh, I’m going to start the timer now.”

Deuce immediately looks panicked and starts waving his arms and legs in random directions. It is extremely evident to everyone that he has no idea how to act out the phrase.

Jack looks just as confused as everyone else and doesn’t even try to make any guesses.

With ten seconds left, Deuce’s panic kicks into overdrive and he resorts to just pointing aggressively at Jack until the timer rings out.

Sinking to the floor in defeat, Deuce silently hands the paper to Jack.

Reading aloud, Jack says, “Lone Wolf?” He looks at everyone with an incredibly offended expression on his face. “Did one of you set that up?” Somehow everyone looks a little guilty.

Round 3: Sebek 🐊 and Ortho 🤖

Ortho picks out a paper looking very calm and collected. After reading his selected phrase, he lightly laughs and says, “This should be easy enough to act out. I’ve been developing my acting skills in the Film Research Club, after all.” The timer is started.

Putting both arms to one side, he brings them together and apart a few times in a chomping kind of motion. Next, Ortho acts out a crying motion, putting special emphasis on tracing imaginary tears down his cheeks.

After watching Ortho run through these motions a few more times, everyone in the room comes to the same conclusion that Ortho is acting out the phrase “Crocodile Tears”. However, Sebek doesn’t hear the rest of the room come to a whispered consensus because he is shouting out an uninterrupted stream of guesses at an extremely loud volume.

Almost loud enough to shake the room, he shouts, “It’s a dragon! Something with a powerful bite like that must be a dragon! Ortho! It’s a dragon!” Sebek continues in this way, never guessing anything else, until the time finally runs out.

Looking absolutely defeated and done with everything, Ortho flatly states, “The phrase was Crocodile Tears.” Everyone, except Sebek and Ortho, cheers and laughs.

Round 4: Grim 🐱 and You 🦐

You pick a phrase from the box while Grim brags to the rest of the room that he’s going to be able to guess it in under five seconds. After reading your selection, your face breaks out into a big, secretive grin and you ask for the timer to be started.

As the timer ticks away, you simply stand there looking at Grim and don’t make any movements. Everyone glances at each other looking very confused.

With almost half your time passed, Grim starts yelling and waving his arms angrily in the air, “Myaaah! What’re you doing hench-human?! Do something!!” As Grim waves his arms, you suddenly begin moving and copy his movements. Grim moves his legs, his arms, jumps up and down, and you perfectly mimic his every motion.

With only fifteen seconds left on the timer, Grim yells out in frustration, “Mrrrgh!! Quit it! Stop being such a copy cat!”

You throw your hands in the air and, just before the timer rings, you shout, “You got it!”

With a smug smile on your face and your shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter, you show everyone your paper with the phrase “Copy Cat” written on it.

#request writing #twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst first years #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #twst grim #twst x reader #fluff and humor #bun-lapin écrit

[elvensorceress]

Sunday Sentences

way more than 7 of them because it's been a while and you deserve all of these 💕 tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @monsterrae1 @messyhairdiaz @theotherbuckley thank you, beloveds 💕 tagging @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @housewifebuck @hoodie-buck @the-likesofus @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @giddyupbuck @911onabc @eddiediaaz @thespermdonorstorylineisstupid @ronordmann @shitouttabuck @babytrapperdiaz @fleurdebeton @buddierights if you haven't posted yet and want to share something 😘

from the Unless finale

Eddie leans in closer, pressing harder, more securely against Buck from shoulders to thighs. “I wanted you,” he whispers and leaves a light brush of a kiss on Buck’s lips. “I want you.”

Buck holds onto him but leans to the side to look at him with a puzzled expression on his face. “You want me?”

What sort of question is that? No, Eddie does this all the time to everyone. He’s the one stealing firetrucks and hooking up in bar bathrooms. Because those are things Eddie would do. When he can’t even talk about having sex even with the man he loves without panicking. Whatever. Of course he wants Buck. “Do you think I don’t?”

“N-no. No, I don’t mean. I mean— what? What do you mean?”

Eddie means this is the strangest conversation he and Buck have ever had. Which says a fucking lot. “What do you think I mean? I want you. I wanted more. I wanted you to stay. You and your hard-on. We could have—” Eddie’s still not sure where they might’ve landed on the they could have had sex spectrum. But it would have been something more than Buck running to jerk off alone because he was too turned on and thought it wasn’t welcome. “I mean maybe you aren’t ready to have sex yet. I get that. We haven’t even said if we’re dating dating and it’s only been hours that we’ve been together. So… maybe this was better. Maybe we should wait. But…” 

But he doesn’t know how to finish that thought other than Buck should have stayed. He needs Buck to stay. He wants Buck with him. He wants to take care of him and love him and be good for him. 

Buck blinks at him then leans back even further and stares with a scrunched look of trying to do complicated math and failing at it. He even holds up a hand like he needs a teacher to call on him and answer his questions. “What? I just. I don’t understand. What do you—what?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” 

“I mean who are you and what have you done with Eddie and I don’t know what you mean by, I want you. And we should wait? And you think I’m not ready to have sex yet? Why do you think we’re going to have sex? What do you want with me? Of me? What do you— w-what do you want when you say, you want me?”

What else might it mean? Were they not just making out all over the kitchen? Is it not obvious? Eddie didn’t think he would have to spell it all the way out. But maybe direct and to the point is the best approach? 

He rests both his hands on Buck’s chest. His very soft, very warm, very muscled and beautiful chest with his beautiful beating heart that Eddie swears he can feel racing beneath his fingers. “Buck,” he says slowly, passionately, with as much warmth and love as he can possibly pour into his words. “I want to have sex with you.” 

It doesn’t quite have the reaction Eddie was expecting. Or hoping for. Not that he knows exactly what he thought might happen, but Buck just blinks at him like Eddie’s suddenly confessed he was wrong and actually does believe in jinxes and the “q-word curse” and other stupid superstitions. 

But he’s not the one who responds to Eddie’s declarative wanting anyway. 

“Uhhh. If you’re going to do that, can you not do it in the kitchen,” Chris says from the doorway. “I eat here. We all eat here. It would have to be some kind of health hazard violation.”

Chris is leaning against the doorway. Without his crutches. Which somehow makes him far too stealthy and quiet. Either that or Eddie was just way too distracted with... never mind.

Eddie’s stomach, lungs, liver, kidneys, heart all plummet out of his body. Metaphorically of course because literally dying of mortification would give him an out from this situation. That would be too easy. 

He pulls away from Buck and steps backward until he’s at the opposite side of the room, while Buck is left with his arms hanging in midair, curved around where Eddie used to be. 

“We’re not,” Eddie says. “We weren’t doing— anything. We weren’t going to. We were just talking.”

Chris gives him a withering, skeptical look that only makes him look a thousand percent like his mother. 

Which Eddie absolutely cannot handle right now.

“H-hey, Chris,” Buck steps toward the doorway, coincidentally or maybe not so coincidentally between Eddie and Chris, and turns into his bubbly, eager, friendly self. “Are you— are you hungry? Do you still want those pancakes? Cinnamon swirls and cream cheese icing? I was getting ready to make them for us.”

Chris wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Not hungry anymore. What’s going on? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Buck looks back to Eddie with clear worry all over his face, and Eddie tries to silently convey that everything is okay. Chris isn’t in the dark about how Eddie feels about Buck. He’s not angry with them. 

Eddie’s pretty sure anyway. “It only just happened. We weren’t keeping anything from you.” 

Chris gapes at him with wide, horrified eyes. “It just happened? That’s how you told Buck? By saying that? Oh my god, Dad! What were you thinking? That is so embarrassing.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open. “N-no. No! That wasn’t— That wasn’t how.”

Chris’ very disbelieving, very Shannon-face comes out again, and Eddie sags against the counter and rubs a hand over his suddenly aching head. 

“No. Chris,” Buck says gently but solidly. Something firm and stead through storms and Eddie just wants to hold onto him and never let go. “Your dad told me last night that he’s in love with me. And I love him, too. I love you both more than anything.”

Chris turns his scrutinizing gaze on Buck this time and still looks skeptical, but also not so horrified. Just wary. 

At this point, Eddie will take what he can get. 

#buddie #seven sentence sunday #buddie wip #jenwyn wip #the one with the oblivious obtuse pining idiots #fic: unless you ask me to #911 #May and Buck aren't the only ones who get to be disturbed by their parents doing the sex in the kitchen?? #and for the record Buck is being weird and confused because he's all #Eddie wants sex? does not compute #demisexual Eddie my most beloved

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin || KTH {Teaser}

Title: Of Ruin

WC: tbd - I'm gonna ballpark it around 60k and it will be chaptered Rating: NSFW - minors DNI, I am very serious about this Pairing: KTH x reader {vamp!tae x human!reader, ft human!namjoon and vamp!jimin because it's always v(amp)min hours at daechwitatamic dot com!!}

Genre: supernatural!au with presence of magic, witches, and vampires || s2l || a splash of (somehow) both fake-dating and arranged-marriage || angst fluff smut trifecta 

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of Infracti civil war - and the love you start to feel for the prince.

Warnings: uhhh okay so I mean vampire murder/human hunting and feeding?, blood and i guess gore?, language, recreational/casual drinking, more to come as I write the rest

Author’s Note: Firstly! Although the worlds, rules, characterizations, and plot are very extremely different, I have to say that I was inspired to write this after reading @kth1fics Black Ravens series. Thank you to Maggie for being so gracious when I asked if she’d be okay with me trying a vamp!tae fic of my own.

I'll be upfront here and say that I do not know when this will be done or when it will start posting because, as you know if you've been around my blog for a while, I write to completion before I make a posting schedule. But I hit 20k today and that made me very excited and I just kind of wanted to share the excitement with you all!

Anyway - here's a teaser!

“Farrah,” Maggie called, the hairs on her arms starting to stand. She’d only been a bit ahead of them, but somehow Maggie was having a hard time seeing her friend. Econ Guy put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders protectively, glancing around them.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, and then two things happened so quickly that to Maggie’s human eyes it seemed to be at once: a bit of darkness moved much too fast just in front of her, and Farrah’s body slumped to the ground.

“Farrah!” Maggie screamed, her breath caught in her throat. She started towards her friend’s motionless body, but she was tugged back. Econ Guy was pointing at Farrah’s body, his mouth moving like he was trying to make a word, but couldn’t. Maggie looked again, closer. 

The darkness that had moved was bent over Farrah’s body, obscuring their view of her shoulder and face. Maggie’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and a tingling she associated with panic started in her fingertips as her body pleaded with her to run.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered in horror. Beside her, Econ Guy made a choked sound and took a step backwards, his arm falling away from her, all pretenses of toughness vanishing. 

At the sound of her hushed question, it looked at them, the motion sharp and jerky. Then, it clambered up, staggering towards them, and Maggie could see it - him - for the first time.

He was undeniably beautiful - or would have been, if it weren’t for the blood running in rivulets from his mouth down to his chin, if not for the inhuman growls and snarls that rippled from his chest like the start of an antique lawnmower, if not for the way his eyes were glossy black, no whites at all.

“An Infracti,” Maggie said hollowly. 

Beside her, Econ Guy found his voice again. “Hey,” he said sternly. “You can’t hunt here. It’s against the law.”

The Infracti stalked closer, unblinking, then stopped a few feet before them. Maggie’s entire body shook and she dropped to the ground, her legs too weak to hold her up - let alone to run. 

Not that she could outrun an Infracti. 

The beast looked at them evenly, then stuck out its tongue and languidly - as if putting on a show - licked its lips, sucking a few more drops of Farrah’s blood into its mouth. Maggie didn’t see him move, but suddenly Econ Guy was screaming, arms flailing as he tried and failed to remove the Infracti from his body. The Infracti’s long fingers gripped his upper arms, face buried in the crook of his neck. 

The scream fizzled to a sob. The Infracti opened his hands - fingers splayed purposefully as he emptied them - and his victim’s body hit the pavement. The sound - a round, weighty thud - echoed through Maggie’s head as the Infracti turned to face her. His all-black eyes seemed calculating, in their own way. Still on the ground, Maggie was almost face to face with Econ Guy’s corpse. His eyes were still wide and frightened, though unseeing. 

The Infracti stepped closer to her, gently, carefully, and then he crouched down, swirling black eyes meeting hers. The growls subsided, and Maggie thought wildly that he looked almost thoughtful. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore as much as vibrating. Her breaths were so shallow they barely counted, and the night swam around her. 

When Maggie was seven, her grandmother was mugged while they were walking together. In the moment, her grandmother had tossed her purse into the street, and grabbed Maggie’s hand to run when the thief lunged for the bag. When Maggie asked about it later, in that way that kids do, her grandmother had explained to her, “He wasn’t interested in you or me. He was interested in my money. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone.”

Now, eye to eye with a monster straight out of her nightmares, Maggie saw her grandmother’s face, heard her sweet voice. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone. Tentatively, she held out her wrist, veins up. The beast moved like liquid again, a shifting of darkness, until he was closer to her, her wrist clutched tight in his cool grasp. Then, gently, as if he were a gentleman kissing the back of her hand in greeting, he brought her wrist to his lips and let his teeth pierce the flesh.

–

Your phone rings in your pocket as you sit on the Express bus across town, and you shift in your seat until you can slide it free. Your boss’s name floats across the top of the screen and you answer it quickly. 

“Are you on campus yet?” he asks in lieu of hello. Dr. Kim is nearing seventy, but he’s the leading curse-breaker on the eastern coast and you find it unlikely that he’ll slow down anytime soon.

“Ten minutes out,” you report. “I’m on the bus.”

“Come directly to my office,” he requests, but you can hear the urgency dancing in his tone. You know what this means: he’s been contacted about a curse. 

It’s somehow chillier when the bus drops you on campus, cloud cover removing the warmth of the sun as you hustle down one of the paved walkways towards the academic buildings, dodging students standing in groups talking, others riding bicycles and the rare electric scooter. 

You hurry into the building that houses most of the staff offices, bypassing the corridors the students frequent and taking the narrow back staircase that leads to Dr. Kim’s office.

He’s waiting for you, door open, a spread of papers on his desk. 

You greet him with a smile, dropping your heavy bag by his door as you have hundreds of times in your professional history. Dr. Kim was one of your first undergrad professors, years ago, and you’ve worked closely with him in all the years since: first, as a TA for his tougher classes, then co-teaching when the university took you on, and finally joining his team of curse-breakers, rapidly bypassing several team members who had more seniority but less knack. 

“We got a call?” you guess, drawing closer to the papers and peering at them for clues. That’s when you notice the young man already seated in one of the two chairs across from Dr. Kim’s desk. Embarrassed, you hurry to nod hello to him, murmuring an apology.

“We did,” Dr. Kim allows with a tight little nod. “It’s… a bit unorthodox, though. I’d like you to consider the situation carefully.”

You feel yourself frown. “What is it?”

“Perhaps you should sit,” Dr. Kim suggests, holding a hand towards the empty chair opposite his desk. 

This isn’t how these meetings go. You’ve done this a dozen times or more - usually as soon as Dr. Kim can see your face he starts chattering excitedly about the details: who’s been cursed, what the effects are, the specifics of the location, the bits of travel itinerary he’s already worked out. 

You sit hesitantly, hands gripping the arms of the chair nervously. You try hard not to glance sideways at the man you don’t know. 

“Well?” you ask gently, when Dr. Kim still doesn’t speak.

“This is Namjoon,” Dr. Kim says, belatedly realizing he hadn’t introduced you. “His degrees all focus on curses. A comparable background to yours, academically.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t study Infracticus. My magical knowledge is focused solely on curses and curse-breaking.”

Dr. Kim makes a noncommittal noise. To you, he says, “I personally asked Namjoon to make the trip and hear the request. I think he’ll be invaluable in picking this one apart.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. You trust Dr. Kim with your life - literally - and if he thinks someone will be an asset to the team, you’d never argue with that. You turn sideways just a bit and murmur an it’s nice to meet you before turning your attention back to your (normally) fearless leader. “So what are we in for?”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost as if he’s unsure if he should tell you or not. “You need to know right from the start how very dangerous this could be,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of you, his voice more grave than you’ve ever heard it. 

“Because of the magic involved?” you ask. Curse-breaking is always dangerous, that’s the very nature of it. You always run the risk of making a fatal mistake; you could turn the curse back on yourself, or strengthen it, or simply end up creating side-effects you hadn’t intended. He’s never given you this warning before.

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Not more so than any other. It’s… well, my dear, it will involve a stay in Infracticus.”

You’re shocked into silence. You can’t help but meet Namjoon’s eyes, sideways, and find him looking just as surprised as you.

You utter, quietly, “What?” even though you heard and understood him perfectly well. It’s more than you need help processing, facing the reality of the words. “An Infracti has been cursed?”

He shakes his head, though the answer isn’t no. “Not just any Infracti,” he corrects. “The Prince of Ruin.”

Your jaw literally drops. “Someone cursed the crown prince?” you gasp in disbelief. “Who would dare?”

“The Scorns, I imagine,” Namjoon murmurs, almost to himself.

Dr. Kim gives you two a wan smile. “Luckily, we aren’t tasked with solving that. Just finding and casting the counter-curse.”

You sit back in your chair in a daze, blinking slowly, cogs in your mind whirring fast. “Okay,” you say finally. “We’d be protected, though, right? They’re inviting the team, so we’d be protected, as guests?”

“Certainly an effort will be made, but there's never a guarantee. This is why I said you need to consider carefully,” Dr. Kim insists. “There is much at stake. You’re in danger every moment you’re down there, even with the promised protection. I expect that the curse itself must be quite complicated, or they’d have solved it themselves.”

“Not to mention,” Namjoon says suddenly, his tone serious, “we may be visiting during a time of… political unrest. If they suspect the Scorns… we may be walking into the start of Infracti civil war.”

“Will it be that bad?” you ask, frowning, pulse quickening. 

Namjoon shrugs. “Hopefully not. But the situation will certainly be volatile. The Ruins and the Scorns would each love a reason to point the finger at the other. If we do happen across the cause of the curse as we try to break it… it’s likely there will be political ramifications.”

“God,” you mutter. 

“As I said,” Dr. Kim repeats. “I won’t accept an answer today. I want you both to sleep on it. Discuss with your families. Talk to me tomorrow about how you’re feeling.”

He dismisses you then, shepherding you both towards his door, leaving it open now that you’re done discussing the equivalent of vampire state secrets. 

Halfway down the stairs, Namjoon calls your name. Ahead of him, you pause, turning, and let him catch up to you. 

“Can we exchange information?” he asks, digging in his wallet. He finally hands you a business card, and you dig in your wallet, hoping you have one tucked behind a credit card or something. 

“I’d like to talk to you about this, later, if you have time,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I’m… not feeling very sure about it.”

“Okay,” you say easily, glancing at the time - you’ve got seven minutes to get across campus to teach your first class. “Do you want to grab a bite later? Your number’s on here?” You wiggle the business card, and he nods. “I’ll text you,” you promise, and start down the steps again, mind racing.

I hope you'll look forward to this fic! Very different from all my hyper-realism I've done until now :')

A friendly reminder that I don't do tag lists, but you can follow my Of Ruin tag for future snippets and updates, and I'll update my Recent Updates when I post!

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #kim taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kth x reader #bts supernatural au #supernatural au #s2l #fic: of ruin

[macabremuscle]

I need you to write that nasty fic idea for Corey because it was *A+* and also drop that audio >.>

Ok I should have known someone was gonna want me to do this. Thank you anon for being an excuse to write this because let's be honest, I'm the one who wanted this originally. I just wanted you all to enable me into committing 😂

For those asking, the audio I'm basing this off of has its own little plot so I'm not using it as a guide, just inspiration I guess, but link to the audio is here. Uhhh yeah mind the tags ok? 😅 this was written in one go with no editing so excuse any typos.

Pairing: Corey Cunningham x Fdom!Reader (its implied with mommy kink but I dont think reader's gender is specified anywhere. tagging as f reader just to be same tho)

Warnings: smut, Fdom x msub, pegging, lots of mommy usage, talk of mpreg but it's not what you think, naughty words I guess

Word Count: 1202

No minors for the love of all that is holy!!!

Sometimes you almost pitied him. The way he'd cling to you like a lost puppy. So desperate for your attention and kindness. You didn't want to take advantage of his hard life, you knew he had struggled socially even before the accident but now... He had such a hard time both in public and at home.

You wanted to dote on him every chance you got. He deserved it. But he made it difficult by wanting to always dote on you. Corey thought his life was over after that night. Everywhere he went, eyes glared. Mouths hissed in whispered hatred. Everyone in this town hated him and he knew it. But not you. Somehow, you saw past everything. You knew about him and you didn't care. Corey felt he didn't deserve you, you were too angelic. And he wanted to make you know how much he appreciated you every second of the day.

But you wanted to turn it back on him now.

You felt his face turning beet red against your skin. Corey was sat on your lap, legs straddling yours as you worked your lips along his jawline. Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his ass and you grinned at the breathless whimper he let slip out.

"P-please.." he breathed out, and he wasn't sure what exactly he was even asking for.

"Use your words baby. What do you want?"

His face flushed again, the words in his head almost too naughty to voice. You decided to force them out of him by rolling your hips up into his, feeling his erection grind against your belly and he shuddered at the sensation. The strap on lashed to you, however, was gently prodding his ass with every movement of your body.

"Touch me more..." Was all Corey could say, his head dropping to your shoulder as he felt his cock twitch in his pants. The wet stain on the front of his jeans becoming more and more uncomfortable.

"Does my good boy want me to make him feel good?" You cooed. He only nodded in reply. You weaved your hand into the curls of his hair, slowly angling his head back to look at his face.

You had only been making out and grinding against one another for a little but he was already flushed and disheveled like you'd run him through the ringer. His eyes glazed over in lust, lips opened for small pants of air. He was a sight and he had no idea how much it stirred feelings within you.

You leaned forward and pressed a deep kiss to his lips. Corey immediately moaned and opened his mouth, his tongue flicking out against your mouth, wanting your own to come and invade. You followed his wishes and let your tongue dance across his, the feeling sending another shiver through Corey and more moans and whimpers began to fly. He whined when you tugged his hair to break the kiss.

"On the bed baby." You gave his ass another light squeeze before letting him free to get off you. He almost seemed loathe to peel his body from yours but he knew even more was coming and quickly did as you said.

Under your intense gaze Corey shed his clothes as fast as his shaking hands would let him before all but flinging himself down on the bed, the wood squeaking in protest.

You walked up and stood between his spread legs, trailing your fingers in delicate touches up his thighs causing his legs to quiver in excitement.

"Please!" Corey begged again, more desperate this time than he'd plead before.

"Tell me baby, what do you want?" You asked him again.

Corey's eyes locked onto you and the intensity of it nearly knocked your breath from your lungs. His brown eyes always held a smouldering ember deep in them, like the flame of his passion had been quenched but not extinguished by the cruelty of Haddonfield. But in moments like these, the fire blazed bright. Roaring with lust, love, devotion, desire, something you could never fully label.

"Breed me." He said so confidently. All sense of nervousness and shyness gone in his want for you to claim him as yours.

You couldn't resist lunging forward to capture his lips in another kiss. Corey's hands wrapped around you, tugging your form to his as his hips bucked up of their own volition. He moaned loudly at the feeling of your strap brushing up against his throbbing cock.

Wordlessly you hurried to yank the bottle of lube off the table, smearing huge globs of it on your awaiting dildo. Corey nearly cried when your hands spread some over his hole, a finger slipping inside with ease making him jolt.

"I'm ready. Don't tease." He ground out behind clenched teeth.

With a smile you nodded and positioned yourself. Easing in slowly you whimpered yourself at the heavenly gasps escaping Corey. Every inch deeper you sunk into him, another loud cry sang out.

With a sigh, you felt yourself bottom out, Corey's quivering body beneath you. You gave him a moment to acclimate before giving an experimental thrust. You were gifted with a whine. How could you not do it again? Soon your hips were snapping against his in a steady rhythm. The walls of your bedroom echoing with the sounds of Corey's pleasure.

"Mmm... Mommy..." You heard a soft mumble and after it sank in what he'd said you paused. Corey's blissed out face scrunched in confusion as to why you'd stopped. Then realization dawned on him and his face flushed redder than you think you'd ever seen it before.

"I-I'm sorry... I don't know why I- oh FUCK!" Corey all but wailed when you tossed both his legs over your shoulders, leaned over on top of him, and began pounding away at the perfect angle.

"That's it. My good boy. Mommy's perfect boy." You panted out between thrusts. Your voice breathless in your own lust. Corey shook his head, your straps tip brushing that spot deep inside him sinfully made him see stars.

"God yes... Mommy please fuck me! Breed me!" You don't think you'd ever heard Corey so desperate before. His hands were fisting the sheets on either side of his head, thrown back in pleasure. You could tell from how much louder he was whining, he was about to reach his peak.

"You gonna cum for me sweet boy?" You purred, taking a hand and running it across a nipple on its way up to cup his cheek and force him to look in your eyes. His own eyes opened and you could see the sparkling of tears lighting his eyelashes.

"Mommy... Fuck a baby into me! Ahh!" Corey's own words sent him into his bliss. His back arched off the bed, as much as your mating press would allow him to, cum spurting across his belly as a shuddering wail reverberated the walls.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before he finally came down from his orgasm. His eyes were unfocused as the gazed up at you with utmost love and worship. You bent down to kiss the remnants of his tears away.

"I love you baby."

#corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham #corey cunningham smut #halloween ends #my writing #anon asks

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Fanboys

chapter 1: introductions

summary: y/n is moving into her new dorm at Jujutsu U!

word count: 755

a/n: thanks for waiting! I know a few people have gotten excited for this one :) let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Y/n pocketed her phone after checking her social media to see how well her recent sponsored post was doing, and double checked the number on the dorm unit. 507. Good. She opened the door, and sitting on the couch were two girls around her age, one with light brown hair, and the other with dark green hair. They both turned their heads, faces stoic, until they saw her keychain. “Hey, is that an Emile keychain?” The brunette asked, “You kind of look like Emile, actually.”

Y/n’s eyes darted to the right, thinking about a quick answer, but she knew it was already too late when she could feel herself smiling in embarrassment. “I, uhhh… I am… Emile.”

The brunette jumped up, and the green-haired girl slowly stood up beside her, excitement shining in the former’s eyes, interest in the latter’s. The brunette exclaimed, “No way! I listen to your music all the time!” She zipped over next to y/n, saying, “Nice to meet you, Emile, I’m Nobara, and this is Maki.”

“I can introduce myself!” The green-haired girl said, “Name’s Maki.”

Y/n laughed. I like these girls. “You can call me y/n, actually. Emile’s just my stage name. So, what should I do with my things? I don’t really have much.”

“Oh! You have your own room, and there’s a closet in there. We were going to leave the biggest one for you, but they’re all the same size, so it didn’t matter. Let me show you!” Maki flopped back down on the couch, and Nobara tugged y/n down the hallway to her room. It wasn’t large, but it was big enough that her recording equipment would fit, once she picked it up. She was worried about damaging it if she just jammed it in her brother’s car, so she planned to get a U-Haul to bring it after the first week of classes were over, just so she was ahead on her schoolwork. After Nobara helped y/n unpack what little she had in her suitcase, she ran to the bathroom, and y/n went out to the living room to chat with Maki some more.

When y/n took a seat next to her, Maki asked, “So, I take it you’re a Music major?”

Smiling with pride, y/n nodded. “Yep! What’s your major?”

Maki replied, “Well, I’m only a sophomore, so I can’t declare mine yet, but I’m going to go into Crim.”

“That’s interesting! What made you decide on Crim?” Y/n said, leaning forward. “No one at my high school ever expressed an interest in Crim except some of the really creepy true crime girls, but half of them didn’t graduate.” She frowned to herself. “It’s probably a good thing, though. I know I wouldn’t want one of them examining my body with complete apathy if I died tragically.”

Maki snorted. “That’s true. My reason is because I want to help people. I come from a family of really rich lawyers, with high-profile clients. I just kept seeing so many situations where some rich guy’s girlfriend mysteriously died, and somehow the police on the investigations botched things, or lost evidence. I didn’t want to be complicit in that kind of thing. I want to be a private investigator to help families. Of course, my family didn’t like that very much, so they cut me off, and now I’m here on my own merit, since I couldn’t get a dime of financial aid thanks to their tax bracket.”

Y/n was stunned. “Wow. That’s really inspiring, Maki! I wish I had a cool story like that, I’m just an idiot who got lucky with the algorithm.”

Maki blushed. “Luck has nothing to do with how good your music is, y/n. I like your songs.” She looked away, like she was embarrassed, and y/n’s smile spread from ear-to-ear.

“Thanks, Maki. Even though I’m proud of my work, it’s always just one of those things, where I get flustered because it’s my voice. You never really expect anyone to believe in you, you know?”

Maki looked up at her in surprise, mouth slightly agape. Softly, she said, “Yea, I know exactly what you mean.” The two of them exchanged an understanding grin. Two girls against the world. Unbeknownst to them, Nobara’s bathroom break consisted of not actually using the toilet, but telling the group chat all about how her favorite artist was talking to Maki and also is living with them for the next year.

label << masterlist >> catalogue >>> chapter 2

#outsider writes #fanfiction #college au #jjk x reader #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #suguru geto #inumaki toge #fanboys JJK smau

[eldrbraus]

TWISTED WONDERLAND BOOK 7 CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS. (summary, kinda. dont trust me a lot on literal translations its more of a general summary and i could be wrong with some things. also its kind of live reaction so. yeah. this shit is long btw. too much lore.)

no spoilers in tags, but beware that i will be spoiling the whole chapter for people who cant wait for the full translation/people who cant read it

we begin.

>lilia is asking malleus to use the dorm for a “im going away lol” party that apparently the whole dorm is organizing??? damn lilia way to make malleus sad lmao

>MALLEUS IS INVITED!!!!!!! HES INVITED HE GOT AN INVITATION AND EVERYTHING!!! SOBS. he even accepts it this is a glorious day for dragonchan

>uhhh something i dont fully understand but goes along the lines of malleus.. had gao gao kun.. FOR 17 YEARS??? AND WHEN SOMETHING HAPPENED TO THE TOY HE WOULD GO TO LILIAS HOUSE FOR HIM TO HELP HIM??? omg thats so fucking cute help

>basically more talk about how time goes away way too fast for malleus

>lilia comments how the more time you spend with someone the harder it is to say goodbye (bestie arent you going away like too easily then? sus.)

>lilia left and OOP. MORE MALLEUS BLOT. NOT GOOD. malmal is very confused??

>lilia goodbye party already??? wtf thats fast

>so apparently every single character is going to be here (almost...)

>hmh where the fuck is malleus? lol what

>trey says something along the lines of lilia having a hmmmmmm unique??? way of cooking LMAO. lilia thanks trey for his cooking advice (YOU DIDNT LISTEN EVEN ONCE WHAT THE FUCK LILIAAA)

>cater....... hes so sad about lilia leaving the music club :((( he thanks lilia for being friends and they take a pic together waaaaa ;;

>lmao leona appeared and lilia is teasing him so much bcs leona is glad to not see lilia again

>LEONA WANTS TO LEAVE BUT RUGGIE SAID “NO??? THIS IS FREE FOOD??? R U DUMB” HELP

>octavinelle time! lilia basically gives all of them advice (azul dont be too greedy or it will kill you wwwww)

>floyd says something like “why are you leaving actually” and lilia says something along the lines of “i dont want you to see the ?? me?” the what you i didnt understand that part what are you hiding little bitch

>KALIM BASICALLY SAID THAT IF LILIA GOES TO HIS COUNTRY HE WOULD HAVE VIP TREATMENT FROM HIS FAMILY HELLO? and jamil comments how kalim wanted to gift him an instrument but they needed a TRUCK TO MOVE IT???? tf were you giving him, an organ?

>now to pomefiore, vil comments how malleus restored his beauty at the end of book 6 and wonders if they can do a magic transfer (?) of the same type to lilia and he says nah

>BECAUSE HES JUST OLD

>pomefiore is like ? arent you the same age as us

>LORE BOMBSHELL, LILIA SAYS HES ALMOST 700 YEARS OLD??????? (way less than i expected?? lol)

>LMAO THEYRE SO SURPRISED. rook asked if malleus is as old as lilia and lilia said that malleus is younger??? or that hes as old as them??? i didnt get that very well but something along the lines of malleus being way younger than lilia basically

>lilias family members are supposed to reach 1000 years old but apparently lilia was to eager? well not that, like he fucked up by playing too many games and that somehow made him old very fast? what (i think this might be a misstranslation help because it doesnt make a lot of sense. but something along the lines of lilia being 700 or so and his family being much older usually but him not reaching that age)

>cant remember exactly where it was but lilia also coments about how the dragons usually live much longer and that 1000 years for them is like peak maturity, when they become adults

>IDIA IS CRYING BECAUSE HIS GAMER FRIEND IS RETIRING FROM GAMING BUT HE WONT FUCKING CONNECT THE DOTS AND REALIZE ITS LILIA LMAO

>HE FORGOT TO ASK HIM HIS CONTACTS HELPPPPP

>also apparently him and lilia were their own best and first friends in online games?

>oh malleus and silver time! theyre in the main road to the main building 

>malleus is throwing a mild tantrum (?) and he made snow??? apparently

>silver fucking crying because he wasnt able to do anything for his dad bruh malleus feels the same

>more malleus blot?? what the fuck thats fast

>UH OH MALLEUS HAS AN IDEA. that cant be good.

>back to the party, first years time

>basically all thank lilia for everything

>i think ortho knows about lilia and idia being gamer friends but wont tell them??? he just said that idia didnt want to come and hands lilia a list of everything idia is playing (and lilia is surpised because most of the games are the same BUT HE WONT REALIZE) so maybe they can play a match before he retires i guess???? theyre so close to finding out but they wont fucking do it im going insane

>idia didnt come to the aprty btw he is the only character that is not there because he was mourning his friend quitting the game lmao

>lilia thanks yuu once again for being friends with malleus?

>HUH? A DREAM???? BUT YUU IS NOT ASLEEP TF

>yuu asks lilia if they can do anything for him and lilia asks the first years to be friends with sebek because poor croc hasnt made a single friend rip

>lilia apologized for sebeks behaviour bcs ace i believe said that he was so rude and said to sebek to behave but sebek.... refuses? lol

>LILIA IS GOING ALREADY AND MALLEUS AND SILVER ARE NOT BACK YET STOP.

>apparently lilias card for nrc arrived 500 years ago but he didnt care back then? so when malleus received his much later he went along with him (and he thanks crowley for letting him enter the school 500 years later lol)

>LILIA IS GOING

>MALLEUS AND SILVER ARRIVED ON TIME!

>malleus is really happy everyone is there

>??? the party said that no gift was needed but malleus is brining lilia a gift anyways, a “blessing”. uhhhh. 

>m. malleus is like way too happy about this. hes saying something along the lines of “today we dont celebrate an end but a beginning” uh. not good.

>this bitch is way too happy tf

>BASICALLY MALLEUS PLAN IS THE MUGEN TSUKUYOMI HELP?

>ORTHO IMMEDIATELY DETECTED BLOT RISING

>crowley is fucking alarmed and he lets everyone use their magic 

>malleus regular battle HE HAS 300K HP AND REGENS 60K EVERY SINGLE TURN??????? BASICALLY AN IMPOSSIBLE BATTLE LIKE THE FIRST BATTLE IN THE GAME AGAINST THE CHIMERA

>you will lose this battle

>lilia tried to make magic to stop him but says something like “this body cant even do magic like that anymore?!” tf you mean “this body” do you have other bodies like dottore or what

>everyone is scared shitless HUH

>lilia is now insulting malleus calling him a dumbass or smth and saying that he doesnt know what hes doing and malleus screams that hes doing this to not lose him HELP

>sebek and silver are trying to calm things down, it obviously doesnt work

>malleus says something about grabbing his hand??? scary

>he gave his blessing! its a long ass spell btw. i think his “blessing” is his unique magic

>DAMN THAT LILIA SCREAM

>MALLEUS FUCKING OVERBLOTS. ALREADY???

>THE WHOLE SCHOOL WAS COVERED IN THORNS AND EVERYONE FALLS ASLEEP???

>malleus saying something about 1000 years will pass very quick wtf

>”you will become the heroes of the story”? malmal says something like that

>AND NOW

>AND FUCKING NOW

>WE RETURN TO THE TWISTED WONDERLAND LOGO. THE ONE FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE GAME. WHILE MALLEUS HUMMS ONCE UPON A DREAM.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.

THE TIME LOOP THEORY? HUH?

#twisted wonderland #twst book 7 spoilers #HELP. #i fucked up and wrote book 8 LMAO my bad

[ladytauria]

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH “Let me ride you.” for... jaycass :"O

ahhh thank you so much for the prompt <3

so, initially i wasn't sure what to do for this one, but then yesterday, i read a post from @deepwithintheabyss, and, uh. well. later that night i wrote the first 300 words for this <3

it ended up being jaytimcass instead of just jaycass, and uhhh. somehow it spiraled into a little over 4k of... pure smut. featuring: established jaytim with dom tim and sub jay having a threesome with dom cass <3

oh, and a tiny bit of incest, because in one line tim does call cass his sister<3

same day edit: some rephrasing, sentence restructures, and some clarifications added in certain spots. nothing major has changed, though, so if you've read it already you don't need to reread <3

>> AO3 <<

Tim and Cass (and to a lesser extent, Steph) share everything. That’s just a fact. Clothes, safe houses, gear, food, showers, toothbrushes—

—and sexual partners.

Albeit, Jason’s more than that to Tim. Tim loves him, wholeheartedly, which—everything he’s ever seen and read says that should mean he wants to keep Jason all to himself.

And he does. Mostly. With one little exception.

Tim loves him, adores him, and that means… he wants desperately to share him with Cass. Not all the time, or even frequently, but. She’s such a part of him that it feels only natural for her to share in this too, even if it’s only once.

Which is the only reason he brings it up to Jason at all.

Jason’s response is a quick and emphatic no. Tim doesn’t pout or plead—he takes the rejection gracefully, kissing his cheek and reassuring him that no is a complete sentence, and if he’s not comfortable, that’s okay. Tim still loves him, he’s not upset.(Maybe, privately, a bit disappointed, but he knows better than to say that.)

He’s pretty sure that’s the end of it.

Until Jason brings it up again, later. The image, the thought, hasn’t left his mind, and… tentatively, he’s willing to try it. 

Which brings them to now. Here. In Tim’s bedroom, the lights low, the three of them stripped to their underwear. Cass hangs back for now, perched to the side, watching.

Tim straddles Jason’s thighs. It splays his legs wide open, the kind of stretch that might burn a little if he wasn’t as flexible as he is. He’s got both hands buried in Jason’s hair, tipping his head back so he can kiss him hard and deep—fucking his mouth with his tongue.

Jason moans under him, hands resting on Tim’s hips. Spit smears around their mouths, dripping down their chins. It’s wet and messy and good, especially with how lax Jason’s mouth is. If Tim’s own tongue wasn’t in the way, he’s sure Jason’s would be hanging out like a dog.

God.

He’s so good. Part of Tim wants to glance over at Cass, ask with his eyes, Do you see this? Do you see how beautiful he is for me? But he doesn’t, because right now, this is about Jason.

About getting him comfortable and aroused and ready for Cass to join them.

He plunges his tongue as far in Jason’s mouth as it’ll go, straining his frenulum  in the process. It’s worth it for the noise Jason makes; for the flex of Jason hands on his hips. Fuck. Tim loves how strong he is, how easily he could manhandle him if he really wanted to.

How he doesn’t, because he wants Tim to manhandle him instead. (And Tim does, and can, because he may be small, but he’s strong.) He wants to be good. And that—

It’s heady.

He tugs Jason’s hair with one hand, drawing a delicious noise from him. His other hand slips down, gliding over Jason’s neck, shoulder, to grip at his bicep. The muscle is pliant under his hands; squishing easily when he kneads at it. Under the fat and lose muscle, though… Solid as rock. That makes Tim moan, licking into Jason’s mouth one more time before pulling back.

The lack of air is making him dizzy.

Jason, too, he thinks, judging by the way he blinks blearily at Tim, sucking in a deep lungful of air like he’d forgotten he was supposed to be breathing. It’s cute. Cuter still is the high noise Jason makes when Tim attacks his neck with lips and teeth and tongue. He refreshes old, faded markings before moving down, down.

He slides his other hand from Jason’s hair now—down his neck, over his shoulder and down to his collarbone, where it’s joined by the other. He cups Jason’s pecs in his hands. They fit in his palms almost like tits, fat and relaxed muscle plush and soft as he kneads with his fingers.

Jason’s moan is high and sweet.

It gets higher, sweeter, when Tim wraps his mouth around a nipple.

He usually likes to start slow. Soft. But he knows Cass’s mood tonight is neither of those things. Patient as she’s being, there’s an antsiness in her. Tim had offered to reschedule, but…

He’d known by the look in her eye what his sister wanted. He also knew that Jason was more than capable of rising to the occasion, regardless of how Tim chose to prep him. Still. Tim was going to get him used to it now, starting by sucking hard on his nipple… and following that with a scrape of his teeth.

Jason shudders, his skin pebbling with bumps, a sweet little whimper in his voice.

He hears Cass shift. Chances a quick glance over at her, and nearly smiles at what he sees, the way her gaze has gotten more intense. More interested. He can’t blame her. Jason really does make such lovely sounds.

It motivates Tim to draw more from him. He plays with Jason’s nipples until the man is shying under his touch—then, he leaves a ring of bruises around his pecs, loving the way he squirms.

Tim can feel Jason’s hips working. Small, minute shifts, seeking friction. His cock strains at his briefs—tight, black, with a little bit of red lace trim. Tim presses the heel of his palm against it, letting Jason grind on it.

It makes him pant, open mouthed, body trembling with each breath. When Tim takes his hand away, he whimpers again, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. A glossy sheen of tears coats them, starting to gather in the corners.

Adorable.

Tim kisses his nose, and shoves at his shoulders. Jason goes, falling back into the bed willingly. He looks up at Tim with the sweetest expression—needy and wanting and so so adoring. Tim loves him.

Jason lifts his hips obediently when Tim hooks his fingers in the waistband of his briefs. They look so good on him it’s almost a shame to take them off, but. Tim knows for a fact what’s underneath is far prettier. He tugs them down his legs and tosses them toward the hamper.

Tim skims his fingers up the underside of Jason’s cock, watching the way he shudders; bumps pebbling on his skin. The flesh of him is hot under Tim’s fingers—precome saturates the head, drooling down the shaft. Tim swipes his finger through it, and sticks it in his mouth, ignoring the needy whimper Jason makes, instead humming, pleased, at the feeling of salt on his tongue.

“Grip the headboard, Jay— Good boy. Knees up for me, yes, just like that, that’s beautiful.” Tim reaches—Cass hands him the pillow he was looking for, and he thanks her with a brief smile. Jason blinks at her, like he’d forgotten she was here—and then smiles, shyly.

Cass smiles back, ghosting her fingers over the underside of his thigh. Jason shivers, arms twitching. Before Tim can ask, he’s raising his hips, letting Tim slip the pillow under them.

Cass hands him the lube next.

Tim cups Jason’s balls. Lifts them to expose his perineum, and drizzles lube over it, letting it dribble down to Jason’s hole. Jason flinches, keens. The headboard creaks under his grip, his hands twisting around it.

He stays where he was put, though, even as tears trickle down his temples. Cass hums, pressing up against Tim’s back, stroking over Jason’s calf as she hooks her chin over Tim’s shoulder.

Tim rolls his balls in his palm in reward—Jason shudders, head tipping back with a soft moan. Then Tim lets them go so he can slick up two of his fingers. He circles them around Jason’s rim, massaging the muscle. The muscles in Jason’s thighs twitch as they quiver. His belly jumps.

Tim pushes in with his index finger; just to the first knuckle. He keeps rubbing his rim with forefinger, biting back a smile as Jason fights to stay still. His cock drools, dripping onto his abdomen. Cass pets over Tim’s belly, humming as she watches. Her other hand is still tracing patterns over Jason’s calf.

He pushes in to the second knuckle, rubbing at Jason’s walls. Jason is hot around him, his passage silken. He pumps his finger once, twice—then withdraws. Jason whimpers, though it cuts off sharply when Tim plunges back in with both fingers, to the second knuckle. Jason clenches around him, wiggling his hips, a needy, plaintive sound in his throat.

Tim works his fingers, quickly working his fingers in to the third knuckle. Jason’s passage spasms around him, as if he can milk his fingers.

“Needy,” Cass says. 

Tim hums in agreement, and Jason whines, pouting at them both. The pout drops off his face when Tim crooks his fingers, rubbing over his prostate. Jason’s lashes flutter, mouth open in an O, more tears rolling down his face as he whimpers. His hips twitch a little, like he can ride Tim’s fingers.

The angle’s not good enough, though, and he’s forced to simply take what Tim gives him.

When Tim adds a third finger, Jason keens again, bucking, hands straining against the headboard. He can feel Cass’s breathing deepen, feel the way her hand presses down on his belly, the way she presses closer against his back.

“Taking me so well,” Tim croons as he stretches Jason open. He tears his eyes away from Jason’s face to watch his hole, the way it swallows Tim’s fingers. Such a pretty sight. He hums to himself.

Tim keeps teasing him, massaging his prostate, stretching his walls, until Jason is sniffling, crying, sweet, desperate sounds falling from his mouth. Then, Tim takes pity. Cass slicks up the plug Tim had set out, passing it to him when it’s ready. Tim withdraws his fingers. Jason doesn’t even have time to whine before Tim is rubbing the base of the plug against his hole.

It’s a little thicker than even three of Tim’s fingers—he watches Jason’s hole stretch to accommodate it, enjoys the way he strains, arching up off the bed, sweet little cries leaving him.

Tim rocks it until he’s sure it’s nestled right against his prostate. Then he pats Jason’s thigh. “Good boy,” he praises.

Jason sniffles at him, widening his eyes, pleading silently.

Cass laughs sweetly in Tim’s ear.

“Not yet." His cock throbs at the way Jason’s face drops. He holds his hand out automatically, accepting the final toy from Cass—a cock ring.

Jason whimpers at the sight of it, but he doesn’t put up a fuss when Tim works it over him, fixing it to the base of Jason's cock. He kisses the tip, precome smearing on his lips, and pets Jason’s flanks.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says. “You just relax for me. Deep breaths—just like that, very good. Keep your hands on the headboard for me.” He cards his fingers through the hair on Jason’s belly a few times, watching as Jason does what he’s told, eyes fluttering shut.

When some of the tension has eased from his shoulders, Tim moves, sliding up to sit next to Jason’s head, leaning back against the headboard. Cass crawls after him, her movements graceful and languid like a predator. Jason, eyes open again, watches her with wide eyes. She straddles Tim’s thighs and twins her arms around his neck, toying with the short hairs at his nape, making him shiver minutely. Tim cups her hips, stroking his thumbs over the v leading to her groin.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” she echoes, mouth twitching. The light in her eyes is dancing with amusement and anticipation. Tim tips his head back as Cass kisses him; mouths moving in perfect sync, tongues slipping and sliding together wetly, neither of them taking more from the other than they’re given. Push and pull—back and forth. A dance Tim thinks both of them were born knowing the steps to.

The headboard creaks. Jason whines pleadingly.

They ignore him.

Tim’s hands smooth up Cass’s rib cage, counting each bone under her skin before palming her breasts. He knows Cass doesn’t usually wear a bra—that the lacy thing cupping them is for their benefit alone. He plays with her nipples through the fabric, enjoying the way she rolls her hips against him in return.

When she nips his tongue, he goes for the band, unhooking it with practiced ease. Cass shrugs it off, tossing it carelessly over her shoulder.

The headboard creaks again as Jason makes a soft, plaintive sound. Tim smiles into Cass’s mouth before she breaks the kiss. This time, it’s her turn. She pays only a little attention to his chest—pinching his nipples until he squirms. Then she focuses on other things, spaces of his body that Tim had never known were sensitive until she found them. His side, his stomach, even spots on his back. Cass works them all while Tim holds onto her hips and moans.

It drives Jason crazy beside them. Tim can hear him squirming. Hear the sweet, needy sounds he makes. Can picture the way tears fall on his cheeks. It would be so easy for him to look over, to see it for himself, but.

Ignoring him while they put on a show will drive him that much crazier. And Tim loves to drive Jason crazy.

Tim’s turn again. He kisses Cass’s neck, using far less teeth than he had on Jason and leaving no marks. His hands roam her body, mapping out the places that make her squirm, make her breathing hitch, make her even moan. It’s always a treat, getting a sound from Cass. She’s so silent. (Tim likes that too, though: reading her pleasure from breath and expression alone.)

They don’t stop until both of them are leaking through their underwear; damp spots where their arousal pools the thickest.

Tim discards his—Cass does the same above him, both of them tossing them carelessly. He turns to Jason again, finally, finding him watching them. He’s just as Tim pictured; face rosy red, tears glistening in his eyes and on his cheeks, hands twisting around the headboard, grip white-knuckled. A pearly pool of precome glitters on his stomach.

Tim strokes his cheek with his knuckles, stopping to cup his jaw, thumb catching over his full bottom lip. Jason’s lips wrap around the tip, suckling., looking up at Tim with wide, pleading eyes.

Tim smiles at him. “Good boy,” he praises. “Being so patient, keeping your hands where I told you… Do you think you can keep being good for me?”

Jason nods, immediately, curls falling into his eyes.

Tim brushes them back to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Of course you can,” he croons. He takes a condom off the bedside table, sitting up. He works his hand over Jason’s cock, gentle, making sure it’s thoroughly coated in pre before he rolls it on. He can hear the way Jason’s breath hitches in anticipation. “You’re gonna stay nice and still, and let her ride you, aren’t you?”

Jason’s breath hitches, and he nods again; quick, sharp jerks. “Yes. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Tim strokes his face, fingertips skimming over his jaw. He looks over at Cass, nodding, giving her the go ahead.

She’s all languid limbs when she climbs over Jason, settling onto his thighs. Tim lies on his side, ignoring his own erection in favor of propping his head up with one hand, and trailing the other over Jason’s chest, twirling his fingertips through the wiry curls.

Cass wraps her hand around Jason’s cock—looking pale and small against his cock. The contrast makes his fingers itch for a camera. She rubs the tip through her folds, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth parted.

The headboard jerks under Jason’s grip, knocking against the wall. Tim kisses his jaw. Cass teases Jason for a moment more—Tim can see her eyes glittering under her lashes, the twitch at her mouth that shows just how much she’s enjoying the sounds Jason makes.

And then…

Cass slams down, taking Jason to the root with a single thrust.

He shouts—Tim is half worried the headboard is going to snap under his hands. It doesn’t. Instead, it slams back against the wall again; a loud sound that makes him glad he doesn’t have neighbors. Jason’s chest heaves, his arms shake.

Cass sets a hard, brutal pace. Tim can barely hear her soft grunts under Jason’s cries. She switches back and forth between riding him and grinding on him, rubbing her clit against him. Fat tears roll down Jason’s face; his skin is flushed from head to chest. His tongue lolls out of his mouth—Tim can’t resist plunging two fingers between his lips.

He’s rewarded by Jason sucking; cheeks hollowing, swallowing around them. Tim pets his tongue idly, turning back to watch Cass.

He can tell the moment she comes—clamping tight around Jason’s cock, her movements stilling. Jason lets out a strangled cry, teeth grazing over Tim's skin. Cass's head tips back, chest thrust forward. She still looks so composed; only a slight flush on her skin; the barest sheen of sweat.

She isn't still for long. Bending backwards, reaching for the remote at the foot of the bed. Jason’s brow furrows in confusion at the sight of it—until she presses the button, and the plug in his ass buzzes to life. Jason’s breath hitches. He whines needily around Tim’s fingers. He pumps them, fucking Jason’s mouth properly, watching the way his eyelids droop. He pants, breath hot and humid.

Tim brushes his mouth against Jason’s ear. “Such a good boy, letting her use you like this,” he whispers. “Letting her use that pretty cock of yours to make herself come. A sweet little toy for her.”

Jason moans around his fingers, shivering, looking up at Tim through his lashes. His sucks turn more insistent, and Tim chuckles. “Do you need something more in your mouth, baby?” 

Jason whines, nodding. Tim drags himself back up, moving until Jason’s head and shoulders are pillowed on his legs. He takes his fingers, wiping them on Jason’s cheek. He feeds Jason his cock.

Tim will never tire of Jason’s mouth. His body is a furnace, running a few degrees hotter than everyone else’s. He feels molten and soft around Tim’s flesh, and when he sucks—

Stars dance in Tim’s eyes.

He pets Jason’s face, deepening his breaths to try and keep them even. Jason moans, whines, cries around Tim’s cock—but he never, ever stops sucking and licking, doing his best to bob his head, and staring up at Tim, hazy-eyed and adoring. He soaks up ever stroke of Tim's hand like he's starving for it.

If Tim was even a fraction less horny it would make his heart ache. As it is—he just gets harder, belly tight and hot.

He's nearly undone when Cass comes again—Jason's mouth tightening around him, moaning long and low, the sound vibrating around his cock.

Tim reaches out with his other hand—Cass takes it, tangling their fingers together. She’s showing signs of exertion now, sweat glittering and glistening on her skin. As beautiful now as she is on stage, arms raised in a perfect pirouette.

She squeezes Tim’s hand.

Tim squeezes back. He taps Jason’s cheek with the other, getting his attention. “You’re going to make Cass come one more time, baby,” he says. “And then you get a reward, alright?”

Jason hums, blinking slowly up at him in acknowledgement. His lashes are clumped with tears, eyes rimmed with red. Tim strokes a finger down the line of his nose, over his bulging cheek.

Cass’s pace is slower this time—her hips rolling. Her breaths quicken, quiet moans tumbling from her mouth. The movements of Jason’s mouth grow clumsier; too focused on Cass. Tim doesn’t mind. He is too.

When Cass’s stomach starts to tighten, the muscles flexing, showing off her abs, Tim lets go of her hand, rising up a little to pull her into a kiss over Jason’s head. He hears, feels, Jason groans—the vibrations make him moan. A particularly hard thrust has Cass tensing, then coming with a sigh, melting against Tim’s mouth.

She pats his cheek when she pulls away, smiling at him, eyes hazy and face pink, looking far more relaxed than when they started. Tim smiles to see it. She slips off of Jason, resting on his other side, curling her legs under her. 

Tim eases his cock from Jason’s mouth—when he whimpers, Cass replaces it with her fingers. Jason’s eyes blow wide in surprise, and then he sucks eagerly. Cass smiles down at him.

Tim settles between his legs, cupping his balls lifting them as if he's testing the weight of them before making a low, sympathetic noise. "Aw, poor baby. You're so full. I bet it hurts, doesn't it?"

Jason whines around Cass’s fingers. Tim is sure he would be begging to come if he could speak—especially when Tim rolls them in his palm, rubbing them with his fingertips. Jason thrashes his head, his hips moving in short, aborted jerks as he tries to stay still, like Tim asked.

“What do you think, Cass?” Tim asks, contemplatively. “Has he earned it?”

Cass hums, her mouth quirking on one side. “Hasn’t made you come yet,” she points out, to Jason’s distress. Idly, she starts circling one of his nipples with her free hand. Tim watches his chest jerk, both up and away.

Tim lets his eyes widen, pretending surprise. “You’re right. He hasn’t. That’s not really fair, is it Jay?” he asks, and Jason whines, pouting around Cass’s fingers. He’s so cute, with his curls falling into those big, pleading eyes, glassy with lust and tears.

Ignoring him, Tim hums contemplatively. “Although... I did promise him a reward for making you come again." He pets Jason's thigh, cocking his head like he's thinking. “Hm… I suppose for your reward, darling, I’ll take this off for you.” Tim eases the cock ring from him, and lets it fall on the bed beside them. “But if you want to come…” He grabs the base of the plug, Cass turning it off as pulls it out. “You’re going to have to do it on my cock. Think you can do that?”

Jason nods, frantically. His cheeks have hollowed, and Tim knows he’s got to be sucking Cass’s fingers like a champ. He can see her moving slightly, probably petting his tongue.

Tim lets the plug drop on the bed with the cock ring. He grabs the lube again. Hisses at the cold liquid on his heated flesh before he strokes himself, smearing it everywhere. He doesn’t bother with a condom; just lines himself up with Jason’s hole, lifting up one of Jason’s legs and pushing it toward his chest. 

With one snap of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt.

Jason sobs. His cock and balls twitch, a spurt of precome splattering on his skin. He tightens beautifully around Tim, making him snarl at the tight, wet heat of him.

Cass hums, watching with dark eyes. She presses her mouth against Jason’s temple and whispers, just loud enough for Tim to hear, “Beautiful.”

The praise makes Jason shake, sobbing again. Cass brushes hair from his forehead, looking from him to Tim, clear approval in her eyes. Keep him, she tells him silently, without so much as moving her lips.

I intend to, Tim says back, snapping his hips again. Jason keens.

Cass keeps petting Jason, touch firm and soothing, letting him suck on her fingers as Tim fucks him. He uses the same pace as Cass, right at the very start. Hard and punishing, slowing occasionally to roll his hips, angling for Jason’s prostate.

It doesn’t take very long at all for Jason to come. Especially not when Cass starts teasing his tit again—scraping a nail over his tight, puckered nipple.

Tim has to hold his hips and Cass his shoulders to keep him from arching completely off the bed, mouth hanging open in a silent shout. He paints his own chest with come—Tim helps him, massaging his balls and perineum while fucking him shallowly.

When Jason collapses, he looks half passed out. 

Tim pets his flanks, giving both of them a moment to catch their breaths and then... he keeps going, chasing his own bliss in the tight heat of Jason's body.

Cass drags three fingers through Jason’s come—examines them curiously, tilting them in the light. Then, she slips her fingers from Jason's mouth, holding up the ones covered in his come instead. Jason swallows them down without hesitation, moaning when he tastes himself on her fingers, and that—

That’s when Tim spills, deep inside him. He feels Jason shudder, hears his quiet moan, feels the way he clenches around him. He clenches tighter when Tim pulls out, as if he can hold him inside, but Tim ignores him. A line of come follows his cock; Tim scoops it up with his fingers, stuffs it back inside, using them to keep him plugged while he snags the plug. He uses his come to slick the plug before working back inside him. As soon as it's settled, Jason sighs sweetly, relaxing back against the mattress, suckling contentedly on Cass's fingers.

Tim crawls up to the headboard, settling down on Jason's other side. He strokes Jason's cheek. "You can let go of the headboard now, sweetheart," he whispers. Jason blinks up at him. It takes him a second to comply, and when he does, it's slow, finger-by-finger before he lowers his arms. Cass slips her fingers from his mouth, then; she and Tim each taking one of his arms, massaging them. Jason hums, low and rumbly like a purr.

Tim raises Jason's hand to his mouth, turning it to kiss his palm before threading their fingers together. "Very well done, sweetheart. You were so good for us, thank you."

Jason shivers, blinking sleepily at him, a little smile on his mouth.

Cass sweeps Jason's bangs from his face again so she can kiss his forehead. "Good boy," she tells him when she comes back up. Jason blinks at her, wide-eyed with surprise. Then he flushes, smiling shyly at her. She smiles back, sweetly, patting his cheek before leaning over him.

Tim meets her halfway, sighing into her slow, languid kiss.

They say sharing is caring, and right now, Tim couldn’t agree more.

#jaytim #jaytimcass #timjay #batcest #tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut #paprikadotmp4 #asks and answers #prompt fills

[alilbatflies]

I wrote a short continuation of this amazing prompt by @thepenultimateword, which goes as follows:

“What are you doing?”

Alex jolted violently, nose still buried in the watermelon musk of Ben’s hoodie as they whirled around.

“Uhhh…”

Ben stared dryly between their open locker and Alex’s wide eyes.

Alex held the hoodie out in front of themself, face suddenly twisting in confusion. “Wait, a minute, this isn’t mine. Did I get the wrong locker?”

The scrutinized the numbers a few seconds before clapping their hand dramatically to their forehead. “Will you look at that, I’m in the wrong row! Sorry, Ben, I’ll see you later.”

Alex went to march away but was promptly caught by the collar of their shirt and yanked a couple stumbling steps backward. “You still have my jacket.”

“Oh.” Their cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and displeasure. “So I do.”

They reluctantly let the soft fabric fall back into Ben’s long, scar-nicked fingers and bustled away before their coworker could ask something stupid like: “Why were you sniffing my clothes?”

They should have walked faster.

...

for sake of clarity and my sanity (seeing the word henchman so many times while editing nearly melted my brain), I named those two:

Henchman A = Alex, Henchman B = Ben

... ... ...

Avoiding someone who works for the same person as them was... Manageable. 

Alex would know, for they managed to avoid Ben for all of two weeks despite their shared tasks, appointments and whatnot. 

Were they caught sniffing Ben's clothes again? Not yet. At some point Alex assumed Ben knew and just rolled with it. Which was odd, since Ben never rolled with anything, spare the orders from their boss. 

And yes, they could just say your scent helps my powers calm so uh... thanks but wouldn't that just be the creepier? Openly admitting it wasn't Ben they were fixated on, but their smell? How fucked up was that.

Besides. A rational, well-mannered, unimpressed Ben. Getting their quirks and unexplained tendencies. Not happening.

Alex prepared for all alternatives, avoiding serious conversation and hiding behind excuses to leave the moment work was done. See that spider on the ceiling? Gotta go. Bye. It wasn't their best but it worked despite all the confusion that it caused.

What Alex did not factor with was outside of work. 

Much like seeing a teacher at a grocery store was odd, seeing Ben leaning against their apartment door hit them like a mirage. Not quite there. Not quite right. A miracle kind of pleasant surprises, except somehow out of place and chilling in its suspiciousness.

Ben nodded at them in greeting, unimpressed eyes focused with unfair intent. They meant business when they looked like that.

Alex was so screwed. 

“Good evening.” 

Alex's head reeled at the greeting. Deep and quiet, yet perfectly clear. Politely blank, just there. 

Manners, Alex. Your fucking manners.

“Evening,” was all they managed, searching for their keys. They had to find out what Ben was doing there. “Thought you lived downtown?”

“Thought we had things to discuss the boss doesn't need to be involved in.”

Alex's blood ran cold. They swallowed. It helped nothing. 

Ben tilted their head to a side. “Don't we?”

“I guess.” Alex was pretty sure their voice did something weird. They gestured inside once they managed to open the door. After you, except they didn't say it, because they would stutter for sure.

Ben slipped inside, waiting for them to pass by only to follow close behind. Maybe they didn’t know which flat Alex lived in exactly. Maybe they did but didn’t want to be obvious about it. Maybe they wanted to make sure Alex wouldn’t bolt.

Alex let them slip into their flat without comments. Their mind chanted a really not helpful chain of I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead.

“So.” Ben looked around curtly. They leaned against the door.

Alex considered inviting them further in. They also considered Ben’s stance and decided maybe Ben would take it as an attempt to avoid the conversation, and so they fiddle with the straps of their bag and waited.

The realisation that Ben was effectively blocking the way out really did nothing to calm them down.

“You’re avoiding me.” Ben tilted their head again, focused look studying every shift in Alex’s expression, no doubt reading them like an open book. “Is it because of the locker accident?”

Accident. Not on purpose. Alex nodded their head perhaps a little too vehemently.

Ben didn’t look like they were quite buying that. “What were you doing there?”

“Uhhh…”

One would think two weeks was a reasonably long time to think of an excuse. One would be wrong.

Alex did not have an excuse ready. There were really not that many plausible, normal-looking excuses for being addicted to someone’s scent.

Ben looked like they wanted to talk again. It startled Alex’s brain back into function. They didn’t think they could handle anything that came out of Ben’s mouth next.

“I have the same hoodie at home,” Alex blurted, “it just… smelled different.” Lies. “Different but good.” Oh gods, shut up.

Ben was staring into their eyes and somewhere behind, presumably scanning their soul and weighting how well they could hide their body from everyone and their absence from their employer.

“It uhhh… caught me off guard.”

“What about all the other times, then?”

Alex felt their soul leave their body. They know about the other times. They needed to sit down. They didn’t think they were getting such chance.

Ben let them suffer in silence. They reached into their bag, searching for something.

Alex closed their eyes, hoping that whatever it was, it would at least kill them quickly. I won’t have to clean the mess if I’m dead. It was a small reassurance.

“Here.”

Alex blinked. Their vision was not blurry and it was not tears. They blinked a few times and finally managed to focus on what Ben was holding out to them.

“Shampoo…” they managed weakly. It was two bottles… Watermelon scented shampoo and shower gel. They were smelling those clothes. Right.

“You could have just asked, you know?”

Alex laughed. It wasn’t an entirely comfortable laugh. Better than bursting into tears, they supposed.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m…” Alex realised, belatedly, that it was a really nice gesture. A solution. Ben was always good at finding solutions, but that didn’t mean they had to go out of their way and get Alex things instead of beating them up and threatening them to stop. It was a gift. Ben was being nice to them. “I’m alright.”

They were so not alright, although admittedly for a different reason than a few seconds ago.

“I’m not mad,” Ben said. “So, stop avoiding me.”

Alex nodded.

Ben looked like they wanted to add something, but then shook their head. They pushed away from the door and turned to leave, hand on the doorknob already when Alex found their voice.

“Surely you could uhhh... Stay back for dinner?” 

Ben's lips quirked into the tiniest of smiles. “I have a bus to catch.”

“…maybe you don’t.” You could stay here. With me.

Ben tilted their head in confusion. “And how else would I get home, silly?”

Stay, I’ll lend you a sleeping bag. Stay, there’s a spare blanket here somewhere.

“Right.” Alex nodded, backing off. “Right.”

Ben left through the door, and Alex absolutely did not think about the fact that the way they said silly sounded all too much like silly little thing, and how they would probably fall and never get up if Ben called them their silly little thing. Nuh-uh.

Alex kept thinking about the tiny smile. And the gift. They used it. It did smell like what they were used to. They missed the smell of something indisputably Ben underneath it, that little bit of their presence that stayed behind.

Alex kept thinking about little gestures and everything Ben made. They saw Ben once during a particularly bad magic moment and they did something so unavoidably Ben (like that weird shrug of shoulders) and Alex immediately calmed down and oh. 

Shit no. It might be more than just their smell after all.

Not to mention Ben was the villain’s best attack dog. Killing machine. Quite like the rest of them, except, well, much more dangerous. Alex kind of hoped Ben assumed their avoidance was based on some kind of fear of them after fucking up and ending in the wrong locker by accident instead of… whatever it was. However much they were not afraid of Ben. Maybe that was the issue from the beginning. If they were afraid like everyone else, they wouldn’t have bonded so well.

But then Ben went out of their way to fix it. As if that wasn’t the most gesture thing to happen to Alex in forever.

It was the smallest of gestures. It was the most thoughtful of gestures. Attempting to solve the situation instead of pushing in. 

Strangely, ironically, it was making Alex's craving worse.

Alex refused to think of all those utterly menacing and dangerously enchanting moments of Ben that they’d witnessed over their shared time together at work. Or outside of it. They thought of them anyway. They were so utterly, profoundly doomed. It wasn’t even funny.

They managed to stay in the clear for all of eight days after that, before they found themselves picking the lock of Ben's locker again. Breaking in. Like a creep. 

“Maybe they should just kill me instead of being so fucking endearing.”

Except they couldn’t find the hoodie this time. They ruffled through the bag and patted the notebooks and pens scattered over the upper shelf in the locker. Nothing. Just work stuff.

Alex had exactly two seconds to stare into nowhere and notice the steps stopping next to them.

“What are you doing?”

Alex flinched and slammed the locker closed, facing Ben on instinct. Their mouth opened and closed with no words to form—their brain was refusing to cooperate properly.

Ben was wearing their hoodie. Their hair was wet and they were holding both their bloodied uniform and towel, meaning they probably had been sent home to rest after killing someone.

Wish for death and dead you shall be. Except Ben’s expression was not murderous in particular.

Alex found themselves gravitating towards them. Before they came to themselves, they already stood close enough to Ben to touch. By the time they tried to jerk away, Ben was already holding their upper arm, keeping them steady.

“So,” Ben whispered into the silence between them, “what’s the matter?”

Alex wanted to say something. They really did. Instead, their magic tugged them forward and they buried their face in their shoulder.

Ben went still.

Alex inhaled their scent, calming and there. Their magic settled. They melted.

“Is it my hoodie?” Ben’s voice flowed quietly, almost from afar.

“…just you.”

“Sorry?”

Alex realized what slipped. They wanted to pull away. They wanted to stay close forever. They needed to leave. They needed to cling to Ben.

Their dilemma was solved by those strong fingers curling into the back of their shirt, pulling them closer.

“You might want to elaborate on that,” Ben whispered.

“I’m…” Alex was content with keeping their face hidden.

Ben was drawing circles on their back now. Oh dear. Not even their grandma could help them anymore.

“I might have a little problem, and… it’s you,” they mumbled into Ben’s shoulder eventually. “Except it’s not the appropriate sort of problem at all.”

“Well, lucky you then.”

Lucky you. And of course Alex was lucky, were they not? If it was the villain or one of their higher-ups, there would be far worse consequences, wouldn’t they?

“We might have a similar kind of problem.”

Alex felt their magic settle. Their brain stopped. Their breathing probably stopped, too.

Their heart did the exact opposite, galloping forth.

They tried to look up then, but their head was held in place and pressed back into the shoulder.

“Invite me over, hm?” Ben petted their head. “I won’t catch the evening bus.”

And Alex did.

#i took liberties #i also took forever this was sitting in my drafts for half a year or so. don't tell anyone though it's a secret #Alex (henchman A) at any given situation: uhhhhhh #i imagine they do some sort of lock-picking and trap-setting kinda work for the villain #prompt response #is it? #writing #writing snippet #writeblr #creative writing #villain x villain #minion x minion #henchman x henchman #heroes a #heroes and villains #pen i am sorry if this made a mess of your notifications somehow

[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 6: Endless Rebirth (Part 2)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight!

In this chapter: Thistle is eager to accept the new member of the household, oblivious to a burgeoning grudge his arrival is causing.

***

Jax seemed to lack most of the fear that other small creatures had about being around humans.  He consented to being carried somewhere more private to talk without much apparent internal conflict.

Marcy very gently scooped him up in her hands and carried him inside, upstairs.  Thistle slid down into her hand beside him.  “Hi,” he said, grinning.

“Hi,” Jax said bashfully.

Moon followed them, but none of them noticed.  Marcy shut the bedroom door behind her without spotting him.  He frowned and leaned against the banister.  He had to wait  outside the door the same way Mochi would stand outside a room she wasn't allowed in and dramatically cry and wail and roll around about wanting to be inside.  No… Better save his dignity and wait than knocking and begging to be included.

Marcy let Jax and Thistle off on her desk.  Jax seated himself on top of a Kleenex box, paws swinging idly.  Marcy took the seat.  “So, uh…”

“Uh,” Jax echoed.

“So what are you?”

“Yeahhhhhh,” Jax said.  “I don’t really… dunno how to describe it?”

Thistle and Marcy waited for more elaboration that didn’t come.

“Like, what are you?” Jax said, gesturing to Marcy.

“I’m a human,” Marcy answered.

“Well, yeah, but like, what is a human?”

“...It’s a species of social, bipedal mammal.”

Jax flicked his ears.  “Yeah, but that don’t mean anything to me.  What’s any of that mean?”

Marcy’s excitement started to fade a little.  “Okay…Do you not have the…words to describe what you are?”

Jax scratched his head.  “I guess?”

“How about this, then?” Thistle interjected.  “How did you come back to life?”

“Oh,” Jax says.  “That.  Well, I mean, I wasn’t really dead.  Per-say.”

Thistle and Marcy looked at each other.

“But we saw you die,” Marcy said.

“Oh, yeah, that piece of me died.  But just cuz you, like, lose a finger doesn’t mean you’re dead, right?”

Thistle and Marcy looked at each other with increasing bafflement.

“Is there… more of you?” Thistle ventured.

Jax bristled.  “Yes!  But, but don't ask about that!”

That was suspicious. That's suspicious, right? Or was he just scared?  “Um…”  Thistle said.  “Is it something bad?”

Jax hid his face in his hands.  “No… It’s just.  I don’t want you to know.  Because you could walk out and find me, and that’s scary. S'supposed to be secret.”

“Uhhh.”  Thistle had no idea what he was talking about, but he certainly understood being scared and wanting to keep parts of himself secret.  “Okay, I guess.  As long as it's not something bad.”

Marcy eyed Jax with suspicion.  He shrank away from her.

“So then what are you here for?” Thistle asked.

Jax's face was still red.  “Um.  I don't really know.  I was just kind of wandering around, and a dryad told me I could come here.”

The mysterious second dryad who'd known exactly where they were somehow.  “And not the dryad on our front lawn?” Thistle asked.

“It was a different one,” Jax insisted.

“And she told you to come here specifically?”

“Yeah, she gave me directions to the house and everything.  Even said there’s a pickup truck in the driveway.”

“...Huh.”  That felt… a bit ominous.  They would really have to try and coax Trilloras out sometime to ask some questions. How did she know? Why did she tell Jax to come here?

“Okay,” Marcy pushed gently.  “What happened before that, though?  Why were you wandering around?”

“I didn't know where to go!”

“But why not?  Where were you before that?”

“I dunno!” Jax cried.  “I'm sorry!”

“All right, Marcy, slow down on the grilling a bit.”

Marcy sat back.  “Sorry…”

Looking frazzled, Jax ducked his head.  “‘m sorry.  I guess I don't really understand.”

“That's okay,” Thistle soothed. “So let's walk through it.  What do you remember from before you were wandering around?”

“Nothing.  I've just been…. wandering’ around for a while.  There’s nothing before that.”

“Okay, I guess…. Tell us everything you remember.  From start to finish.  All the way back to when you were a baby with your parents.”

“Parents?”

“...Yes?  Parents?  You know what those are, right?”

He nodded.  “Oh, yeah, I know.  I just don’t think I got parents.”

Thistle furrowed his brow, crossed his arms, and let out a very long breath.  “...Okay.  So then, just.  Everything you know about yourself.  Everything you remember.”

Jax lashed his tail.  “Hm… I’m young, but I don’t know how I was born.  I remember…growing.  And I know about borrowers.  But I also don’t think I’ve… ever met a real borrower.”

Thistle reached out and felt his fur.  “You…feel like a real borrower.”

“And I make magic by collecting items, like borrowers do.  But I can feel that I got a lot more potential than that, too.  And I dun’even know how I know any of that!  It just kinda…feels like it?”

“And you said you’re young?  You look fully grown.”  He was definitely closer in height to Violet than Petunia.

He nodded.  “I remember…about eight days.”

“...Eight days?  You’re eight days old?  Or do you just not remember anything from before eight days ago?  You couldn’t even learn a language in eight days, let alone grow up!”

“I didn’t learn it, I just sort of…absorbed it.”  Jax furrowed his brow and walked across the desk, watching his feet tap on the wooden surface.  “That’s what it feels like.  I didn’t learn anything.  I just…absorbed it, n’then appeared.”

“Okay…  and the, um.  The ‘rest’ of you–you can tell us whatever about it you feel comfortable, we’re not trying to pressure you or anything, I promise you’re safe…”

Jax stopped, ears twitching.  “Right.  Um…Well, I do know that when I die, I can just grow a new body.”

“Grow it how?”

Jax flushed and turned away, squirming.  “It’s nothing bad!  It’s just secret!”

“Okay,” Thistle said.  He guessed he could live with that for now.  Jax was being astonishingly up-front with them about everything else despite his apparent confusion.  That was worth something, right?  Thistle couldn’t expect everyone to not keep any secrets when he knew how scary humans could be.  He hadn’t made Moon reveal all his secrets right away.  “Maybe we can talk more about that later. We just met, after all.”

Marcy curiosity burned.  She restrained herself from asking anything else–Thistle knew the appropriate rate to go at, right?  She should let him take the lead.  Right?  She desperately wanted to ask more, but she always asked too many questions at once and overwhelmed everyone.

“So, what do you want to do now?” Thistle asked.

“Um… I don’t really know.”  Jax scratched his head.  “I… guess I don’t really know what to do?  I don’t really know how to be a borrower.”

“Marcy, can we talk downstairs for a bit?” Thistle said.  “Jax, we’ll be right back.”

“Oh–oh okay!” Jax said.  He sat back down on the kleenex box.  “I’ll just, uh, wait right here!”

Marcy took Thistle out of the room.  Moon scrambled to his feet and started to say something, but his voice was drowned out by her footsteps down the stairs.

Marcy sat down on the couch in the living room.  “Do you trust this guy?” she started.

Thistle tapped his chin.  “Not entirely, just because we have no idea what he is.  But he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to trick us.  Even if he is keeping secrets from us.  He’s being honest, it seems like. Just scared to tell us everything.”

Moon’s eyes slowly raised above the arm of the couch.

“Should we let him stay?” Marcy asked.

“What do you think, Marcy?”

“I think you should be the one who gets to decide.  You’re kind of… in charge, in a way.”

Thistle’s ears twitched.  “Eh?!  I guess so.”  That seemed like a lot of responsibility, but… she was kind of right.

Moon rested his elbows on the couch.  “Our new visitor is certainly interesting,” he purred.

Thistle didn’t look at him, too absorbed in thought.  “Huh?  Oh, yeah.  Marcy, let’s go back upstairs to him, yeah?”

“Okay.”  Marcy kept Thistle in her palms and carefully stood from the couch so as not to knock Moon over.  She left him sitting unhappily on the armrest downstairs and ferried Thistle back up to her bedroom, where she set him on the desk.

“Okay, Jax,” Thistle said.  “You can stay here with us and we’ll take care of you.”

Jax gave a happy little hop.  “Yay!”

“If you want to just be a borrower, that’s fine.  We can get Violet to teach you how to be one.”

He nodded.  “Yeah, that sounds great!”

***

Thistle managed to coax Violet out for a lesson.  She seemed irritated by it–she’d just gone outside for the funeral after all, and surely asking for two excursions in one week was unreasonable, right?  

She came anyway, though.  She knew better than to argue.

Petunia came too, because, well, she was also still learning how to be a borrower.  And of course, as soon as Severa got wind that Petunia was out of the walls, she showed up, too.

So Thistle sat on Severa’s lap watching Violet talk to Jax and Petunia about the very basics of being a borrower.

“So this is how you’ll wanna to keep warm,” Violet monologued, laying out several heavy jackets.  “It can get cold in a bean’s house during the winter, and you have to make them by hand.  But in the summer, you can-”

Jax raised his hand.  “Wait, how do you make them?”

“By hand,” Petunia helpfully supplied.

“Just make ‘em how your ma and pa taught you to make stuff growing up,” Violet answered.

Thistle butted in.  “No, no, Violet, you’re not understanding.  We’re going over the very basics because nobody taught him.  He didn’t grow up.  He…”

Thistle looked over to Jax.

“I emerged fully formed from the ground.”

“...He emerged fully-formed from the ground.”

Violet scratched her head.  “That ain’t right.”

A fourth borrower slunk out from behind a nearby wall.  Thistle looked at him in shock before he realized who it must be.  That handsome face was unmistakable.

“I can also be a borrower but not actually a borrower,” the new borrower said in Moon’s voice.

“Moon, do you want to learn how to be a borrower, too?” Thistle said.

“Yes!”

“All right!  Get in line, then!”  It felt… weird, to be talking down to Moon.  He was barely four inches tall now, hardly higher than Thistle’s chest.  He'd seen Moon shapeshift before, but never to something this small. He must have really crushed all his bones and stuff down.

Moon scampered over and sat next to Jax.

“Hi,” Jax said, with all the giggly affectation of a student gossiping in class.

“Hi,” Moon said coolly.  “I’m kind of Thistle’s best friend, so if you need anything, you can just let me know.”

Thistle leaned back into Severa’s coils as she braided his hair.

“All right,” Violet said.  “Uhhh, I guess I can show you how to make stuff later when I have my sewing supplies.  I guess let’s work on…climbing?  That’s important to doing your borrowing.  Climbing up counters n’at.”

Moon’s voice had been talking softly underneath Violet’s the whole time, and as Violet’s sentence trailed off everyone in the new silence heard the tail end of Moon’s sentence, which was, “We sleep together, you know.”

Thistle grew red.  “Moon, what are you doing!”

“I was just telling Jax that you and I sleep together sometimes.”

“Yeah, but, like-”  Thistle’s ears pinned back to his head.  “Not, like, in a weird way.  He’s, uh, he’s soft and he smells nice!”

“You do smell nice!” Jax piped up.  “Like nice, earthy soil.  Maybe I could also sleep with you sometime!”

“Uh… I guess?” Thistle said, suddenly feeling weird.

Moon hooked an arm around Jax’s shoulder.  “That could be arranged,” he purred.

Jax didn’t seem to understand, but he looked happy, beaming.

“Moon, don’t seduce Jax,” Thistle whispered harshly.  “He’s eight days old.”

“He’s what?”  Moon removed his arm as though burned by hot metal.  He nervously regained his composure.  “Ah, well you certainly look… mature for your age.”

“I emerged fully formed from the ground!”

“You… emerged fully-formed from the ground.”

Jax nodded.

“That’s nothing,” Moon scoffed.  “I was raised as a borrower, you know, and then I emerged fully-formed from a borrower.”

Oh no, Thistle suddenly realized what was happening.

Moon couldn’t stand that there was someone around more interesting than him.

Moon couldn’t stand that Thistle was paying attention to someone other than Moon.

Jax, by contrast, was completely oblivious.  He had stars in his eyes, tail wiggling.  “That’s awesome!”  He reached out to touch Moon’s fur, which Moon allowed.

“Yes,” Moon said, self-satisfied.

Jax’s hand stayed on Moon’s arm, gripping his fur.  Moon shifted uncomfortably, then reached down and peeled Jax’s hand off.

“Climbing,” Violet said, annoyed by whatever was going on under her nose, “is mostly about technique.  But strength is a key factor, too.  Borrowers are naturally very strong.  Petunia, show ‘em.”

Petunia walked over and picked up a nearby apple.  It was taller and far thicker than her, but she held it up with confidence.

Jax was thrilled by this and rushed over to pick up the banana nearby.  He struggled a bit, on account of the sheer size, but he was able to get it mostly off the ground.

“Incredible!” Jax said, like he didn’t know he could do that.

“Hmph,” Moon said.  “Watch this!”  He walked over to a second apple, this one bigger, and gave it a good heft.

It didn’t budge.  He looked around awkwardly and then continued trying to lift, feet scrambling against the countertop.

“Moon, don’t hurt yourself,” Thistle said.  “Don’t hurt your back.”  He probably could have lifted it at his normal size–but even that was pushing it.  Moon was not naturally graced with muscle–he just happened to be a lot bigger than average, and now he’d shrunk himself down.  He could copy the appearance of a borrower, but apparently not their actual abilities.

Huffing and puffing, Moon turned and started trying to push the apple instead.

“Lift with yer legs,” Violet advised.

“Damn it all to hell!” Moon shouted.  “You’re not actually a borrower, so how come you get to be strong like one?”

Jax’s head sunk into his shoulders.  “Er, sorry.”

“Moon!” Thistle scolded, standing.  “Don’t yell at Jax!  He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Moon gripped his fur and tore, and the borrower costume came off and dissolved into a puff of smoke.  His form expanded back out to his full natural height and appearance with a whoosh and the sound of bones popping.  “Well, whatever,” he muttered, hopping down and flapping away.  “Who needs to climb around anyway?”

Violet watched him go.  “He’ll never get any borrowing done at that rate.”

***

***

@static-stars

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#g/t #gt #gianttiny #fairy #giant/tiny #size difference

[wingsonghalo]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @cnnmonbimee! Thank you for the tag!! Read her awesome answers here!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 66! More than I thought were on there tbh!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? Uhhh apparently it's 684,757! Less than I thought!

3. What fandoms do you write for? In order of most fics to least: Ace Attorney, JSHK, My Hero Academia, Mob Psycho 100, Homestuck, Hunter x Hunter, Phineas and Ferb, and Supernatural. I've also written a lot of Pokemon stuff, but somehow that has escaped Ao3 despite it being my longest fandom LOL. Working on a Pokemon SV one currently though 👀

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Project: Matchmakers (shocker, I know), Sleep (Too) Tight (It's always been slowly but steadily popular), Force of Habit (bit of a surprise there honestly), Project: Matrimony (less surprising), and The Stuff of Dreams. So what I am seeing here is that no one leaves kudos on my JSHK or MP100 or MHA fics :') Some of these fics are one-shots, so it's kind of surprising! I wish PlayWright had gotten more attention; that fic killed me while I was writing it. I'm not giving number of kudos because I'm not comfortable with that and it makes me feel bad about myself haha,,,

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to! I've fallen behind on responding to them in the past 2 years or so because life has been so busy, though…

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably A Practice, For Now?? LMAO it's also my first JSHK and the one with the most kudos HMM COULD THIS FANDOM BE ADDICTED TO ANGST PERHAPS??! I don't write angst a lot!! What can I say, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Almost all of my fics end happily, LOL. Pick any of them that actually has an ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not commonly. I've gotten anon hate before about them on tumblr on rare occasions, but usually my comments on ao3 stay pretty nice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do sometimes, but I'm so shy about it that I rarely ever post it /)//w//(\ Usually I just share it among friends, haha!

10. Do you write crossovers? Nope, and I never will!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Someone tried to run Project: Matchmakers through a translator to hide the word matches and sell it as an ebook on Amazon, but they only bothered to hide it for chapter 1 so someone reported it to me and then in retaliation I started actually selling it on Amazon for the lowest price I could because the thief was trying to sell the shittier version for like 7 dollars LSFJ;AKLD. Read about the whole debacle here.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, quite a few! People have been great about asking me for permission! 💖

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, here and there! Usually it's either fics where I have written one part and someone else has written another scene, or someone had me look over something they'd written and I added so much commentary or threw additional ideas at them so much that the story ended up changing and I somehow became a co-author, LOL.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Oh my god don't make me answer that ;alskdjfl;k. If I wrote a fic for them ever, they're my favorite. I have so many favorites that I've never written fics for, too.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? THE UNDERCOVER FIIIIIC [sobs] and also Left on Read hnnngh

16. What are your writing strengths? Emotions!! I'm super good at those! I'm also really strong at dialogue and banter, and making my writing kinda witty/funny.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Describing settings ;w; I write my scenes like I draw my art: in Descriptionless Blank Voids lkas;dlkf. I also struggle with the flow of action scenes sometimes, though I think they usually turn out okay if I spend enough time on them. I also probably use too many adverbs and adjectives, but y'know what? Fuck it I like my descriptive words thank you very much

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? As long as you're checking that it means what you think it means, or possibly asking a native speaker if you're unsure about context or need a sensitivity reader, I think it's fine. It annoys me if I have to check a footnote every other line, but if you can mostly understand it without a translation in context, it can be kinda nice! At least it says you're trying more than phonetically spelling out an accent, which--remember, kids!--is always cringe! 👍

19. First fandom you wrote for? On Ao3, it was Homestuck. On the internet in general, it was Animal Crossing and Pokemon, LOL.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Don't make me cHOOSE BETWEEN MY BABIESSS 😭 I dunno man! Project: Matchmakers is my magnum opus, but the PlayWright is lowkey kind of a masterpiece, I love so many of my JSHK fics to bits and pieces, a lot of my MP100 and MHA fics are very special to me, I've been trying to write a HxH one for YEARS and have poured my heart into making it beautiful, just UGHHH every single one of my fics I have vivid memories of conceptualizing and working on and most of them are my favorite to some degree!

I tag @carochinha, @kittykatz009, @toastytoaster22, @ittybittytoostormy, and anyone else who would like to answer these questions!!

#stuff i write #jibaku shounen hanako kun #narumitsu #ace attorney #mp100 #tagged me #hxh #pokemon #friends

[bretongirlwrites]

tagged by @sylvienerevarine for this tag game... i don't know who has already been tagged but i will tag @druidx and @redyn-nerevarine and anyone else who feels like it

How many works do you have on AO3?

91.. i have no idea how it got to that amount. most of them are like 500 words though. just bits. i also have 33 on fanfiction dot net but haven't posted there in years and years

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

146,927. which means i'm somehow significantly under my fanfiction dot net count (232,934!!) despite the 91 fics. damn what was i on back in 2015

3. What fandoms do you write for?

well you all know about the elder scrolls ones. have dabbled in dragon age and mass effect, but don't often publish what i write for those. my 2015 obsessions were merlin and sherlock and occasionally atlantis but they're pretty much abandoned

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

cannot really answer as i got hit a few times by the kudos bot. the formation of a courier is incontestably up there. as is where were you when the dragonborn came, but i've a feeling people accidentally end up on that one thinking the title is uhhh innuendo

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try to... i don't get too many and idk what to reply other than 'thanks! :)' though

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

an ultimatum and well laid plans maybe... i can't really say that my fics have endings. since they're mostly scraps and i never finish longer fics

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

see above... i try to end things happily but since i'm writing fics from the middle it's not always obvious from what i publish

8. Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully not. except an instance of delphine hate that wasn't very favourable to the fic either. and that one time way back when, when someone criticised a fic for being unrealistic. because the count of monte cristo is so realistic

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do not. the only time i tried, it ended up extremely non-explicit anyway. and i deleted it off ao3 because it was cringe but it was getting tons of hits from people probably expecting more. i used to tag my fanfiction dot net ones with 'this will not contain smut or anything like that' because i didn't realise that smut was what people were mainly looking for

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written?

i began a merlin/sherlock crossover that got quite popular but which i never finished... the crazy thing ended up being not so much the crossover but the existence of a magical teleporting conservative mp

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i damn well hope not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i used to translate my own fics into french... i no longer have the translations but knowing how bad i was at french in 2015, i doubt they were readable. maybe i ought to try again... since nobody else appears to be doing so hehe

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

no although i have written crack fics with my sibling that would never make any sense to anyone including us

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

i'm not really in this for the shipping... my oc victoria hatteras and her platonic soulmate harbert brown will always be my otp but i do not publish anything about them. am however fond of julienne and marcurio (all the book smarts and none of the street smarts), and lunette and ilmeni (which despite lunette's cavalier attitude to romance, i am determined will be perfect)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

occasionally i still get requests to continue the aforementioned merlin-sherlock crossover. but that's probably not happening. really the answer is 'literally any of them' since i don't remember the last time i finished a multi-chapter fic

16. What are your writing strengths?

uhhh uniqueness. chaos punctuation. sounding like i died two hundred years ago

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

anything actually happening that involves like movement and stuff

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

i've not thus far felt like i needed to, at least for tes. if a fic called for french or german, then i'd try. if it called for anything else, i wouldn't trust myself or google translate enough. idk how readers would feel about that... i already invent words from french sometimes

19. First fandom you wrote for?

in terms of published works, it seems to be doctor who. in terms of generally... hell probably still doctor who, i was obsessive when i was younger

20. Favourite fic you've written?

all and none of them. the aforementioned formation of a courier... and the imperial city irregulars, that was a good one. i seem to be more consistent and less cringe where comedy is concerned than more serious fics

#tag game