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little-annie · 4 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY | The Honeymooner's | Steddie | Eddie's chaotic unreliable POV

It's just supposed to be a fun week away for the two friends, but when Eddie's guilt gets a hold of him and he learns if he and Steve were on their honeymoon Steve would save 30% on the room, well things get a little carried away.

---

Okay, so yes, Eddie is very excited and very appreciative of this little boy's week-long getaway that he and Steve planned and yes he can't wait to finally spend a few days without the gremlins gnawing on his ankles or demanding for a ride to the arcade. But… but he feels guilty, very very guilty. And why, you may ask. Well, Steve's paying for the whole thing, that's why. The guy insisted upon it, saying something about how Eddie's been working so hard on getting his GED and working at Thatcher Tire and helping Steve take care of their somehow combined 7 children. That he deserved it. That, "Don't worry man, you can get me back sometime if you're so worried about it."

Steve's a good friend like that. Always has been.

Eddie's not really sure how they happened, really it seems like some weird anomaly that they can even coexist in the same space let alone willingly spend the majority of their free time together, but they do. He supposes though, one particular gremlin is to blame for the colliding of their souls. Dustin Henderson specifically. At first Eddie was jealous then when he met Steve, well, then he was kinda infatuated and it's all been downhill from there. Eddie's in love now. Hopelessly, irrevocably in love. With his straight best friend. How cliche.

How fucking cliche.

Eddie huffs to himself and tries to avoid checking out Steve's ass in his way too tight Levi's as they enter the lobby of some too nice hotel in the middle of what he thinks to be some Indiana State Park. Truthfully, he doesn't remember where they are, slept the majority of the way here since they left after work and he's exhausted, but the place is nice. Cosy almost if it weren't for its vastness. Really it resembles what he'd imagine to be a lodge. A giant log cabin if you will. Somewhere he supposes Harrington Sr. probably stays for some fancy men's hunting trip or something. Looks like the type of place that'd be a resort in the winter. Large fireplaces, overstuffed leather furniture, mounts from what he assumes to be the owners hunting trips.

In all honesty it isn't what he expected, but it's still nice and well, he's not paying for it so he's not complaining.

God he doesn't even want to think about what the room cost Steve for the week.

"Checking in under Harrington," Steve's voice pulls Eddie from the fog of his thoughts as he checks in, a young giggling couple to their left doing the same.

Trying to not grimace at the sight of the love birds, Eddie too approaches the front desk, leans against its edge and watches Steve as he signs a piece of paper and hands over his ID and credit card to the receptionist or whatever the front desk lady is called, Chrissy, he assumes if the strawberry blondes name tag is anything to go by.

Idle and waiting to get to their room and sleep in until noon tomorrow, Eddie zones out, all too focused on Steve's profile as he talks. The only thing filtering through his brain is the crushing guilt of this weekend, Steve's sharp jaw and the couple next to him talking a little too loudly to ignore as they boast about their recent wedding to their receptionist, the poor young man looking far too exhausted to give a shit. But it's then that Eddie hears that same receptionist say to the couple, "With your honeymoon package, you'll be saving 30% on your stay with us. Here are your keys … -"

It's then too, that something occurs to Eddie and his mouth runs away from him as he more or less blurts out, "Oh congratulations, we're honeymooning too."

The couple squeals and congratulates them as they scurry off to their room and Eddie has all but two seconds to process what he's just done (tried to save Steve money in the dumbest way possible) before Chrissy is doing the same, saying to he and Steve, "Congratulations! Oh my goodness that's so exciting! Well, let me do something special for your little week away then. I'll upgrade you two to the Honeymooner's Package and Mr. and Mr. Harrington," the gal winks, "you'll receive a room upgrade, 30% off of your stay and free access to so many of our great amenities."

Red in the cheeks at the idea of being married to Steve Harrington, Eddie, for the first time in a long time is speechless. What has he done? They're going to have to act like a couple now or they'll get found out and kicked out. Fuck. What the fuc-

An arm slips around Eddie's waist and squeezes, his whole body going up in flames as he goes rigid.

"Thank you," Steve says, Eddie assumes to Chrissy as he momentarily blacks out and is solely held up by the muscular arm that wraps tighter around him, fingers on his waist that have never been there before.

What the fuck?

Then there's a kiss on his cheek and Eddie has never snapped so suddenly back to reality.

Steve's eyes find Eddie's almost immediately, somehow communicating at the same time, 'Are you okay?' and 'Man, you got us into this mess, act the part.'

He really did, didn't he?

Well…

Eddie leans into Steve more intentionally, trying to ignore the desperate flutter in his chest when Steve smiles and pulls him closer, his thumb gently caressing the thin fabric at Eddie's side while they wait for Chrissy to make the changes in the system and hand them their keys.

It's all so foreign, but really it's not. They're touchy, maybe in each other's space a bit too much, sometimes to the point that one of the kids or Robin feels the need to shout at them to get a room. But it's never this. It's never long lasting lingering touches that kinda make Eddie want to cry. It's never this intimate. It's normally teasing or comforting. Sitting in each other's lap just to be a pain in the ass or squeezes to the arm when they can tell the other is stressed out. Things like that. Never coupley shit. Never this.

"Honey?" Steve's voice comes as a whisper close to Eddie's ear, sweet like honey and teasing, there's a smirk on his lips, "Wanna go check out the room?"

Chrissy giggles after handing Steve the keys and disappears behind a door leaving just the two twenty-somethings alone in the lobby. Steve's arm is still around Eddie's waist.

Eddie blinks, nods like a fucking idiot and lets out a horrible, barely there gasp when Steve's hand leaves his body only to ghost down his arm and intertwine their fingers together, pulling him along.

It's not until they're in the closed elevator that their hands separate and Eddie's able to manage words again. "What the fuck did I just do?"

Steve snorts a laugh before he shrugs, leans against the wall next to Eddie and says simply, "Made our week away a lot more interesting, that's for sure."

All Eddie can manage is a groan, knocking his head against the wall to which Steve responds, "Well that and saved me a couple hundred bucks."

—------

Things only get worse once they get to their room. Not only did they get upgraded to the Honeymooner's Package, it appears they too got upgraded to a honeymoon suite.

Jesus H Christ

Steve's cackling at the door of the room, gaudy red carpet beneath his feet as Eddie shoulders past him to get a better look. And Christ alive, it's awful. So, so awful.

For starters there's only one bed. Heart shaped in all its glory beneath a mirrored ceiling with a basket of what looks to be condoms, lube and lotions stationed artfully in its centre.

Awful.

Than, there's the bathroom that's more or less a fucking fish bowl. From where he's standing, only a few feet further into the room than Steve, Eddie can see that those glass walls provide no privacy. NONE. What the ever loving fuck!? There's a huge tub and shower and nothing more than a thick pane of glass separating them from the rest of the room.

Aw-ful.

What has he gotten himself into?

#wip wednesday #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie #steddie fandom #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #maybe if the fic gods are nice ill have this done in time for valentine's day

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lovelywriting666 · 3 months

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Strawberry Cream Cheese

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, lil cameo of Claire Novak x reader (platonic)

synopsis: A day in the bunker with the boys

a/n: Girly reader, younger but like teenager age, takes place in no specific season, but like they all have up to date phones and stuff like that. Also this is a WIP and not proof read at all lolz <3

warnings: None

Hope you enjoy! :D

You were laying in bed listening to music, like classic lady gaga, Government Hooker, Americano, and Judas, while scrolling on your phone when you hear a knock on your door.

"Yeah?" You ask which is an invitation for the person on the other side of the door, presumably your brother, to open it. To no one's shock or surprise it's Dean.

"Hey kid, Sam's making breakfast do you want any?" He asks, his voice still laced with sleep, he probably just woke up.

You fell into the habit of getting up when Sam did so you could get ready for school, Sam was your personal alarm clock on school days and Dean was your personal chauffeur because Dean never trusted those school buses. But that's beside the point, you were used to waking up at the crack of dawn so you've been up for a while.

"Yeah, uh, just a begal and strawberry cream cheese" You respond as you pull yourself out of bed and stretch a bit.

Dean nods, "Alright kid, also change that music put on some good shit not this-" you cut Dean off with "Whatever old man" and Dean lets out and airy laugh and closes the door probably heading back to the kitchen where Sam was.

...

Once you put on something for the day you pause your music. Slide your phone into one of your pockets and head out into the hallway and to the kitchen. Sam was over the stove probably cooking eggs for himself and Dean, the toaster on and Dean with his head in the fridge.

You walk over to the kitchen table and sit down, you leg your legs across the bench and pull out your phone and you get a text from Claire.

Claire : Morning, going on a hunt, just wanted to let you know

You : Good Morning, have fun on the hunt!

Claire : Will do nerd

You : Knuckle Head

A plate clatters onto the table and you put your phone away and its your toasted bagel that Sam places in front of you and Dean sits across from you putting two plates down, one in front of him and one next to him. You gran the strawberry cream cheese container and open to find no cream cheese and you frown.

"What's wrong Bami?" Sam says kinda jokingly, it's the nickname Crowley gave you when you first met him with the brothers, it wasn't your proudest moment because you tripped in front of him, hence the nickname.

"We're out of Strawberry cream cheese" You say with a small huff and take a bite of your dry but good bagel.

"Damn, I think that calls for a food restock" Sam says, Dean and I agree.

Sam gets up from the table and grabs a notepad and pen from the junk drawer and walks back over to the table and sits down. He tosses me the notepad and pen, I scribble down food we need and other stuff while I eat. Once I think it's good I click the pen closed and Dean grabs the notepad off of the table and I continue eating.

"Nope, not buying *snack food* for you again" Dean said looking at the list.

"That was one time Dean! Plus you put it in the back of the cabinets, me and object permanence don't mix!" You sam with a huff and cross your arms.

"Fine, we'll get it but actually eat it this time" Dean says handing the list to Sam, you smirk getting up from the table and put your dishes in the sink. You hear Sam write down some things.

"Alright we'll let Dean finish eating breakfast, I'll wash the dishes and then we can head out" Sam say with a smile, I nod and head to the 'Dean Cave' because it has a bigger tv then in my room.

...

After a while you get a text from Sam.

Sam : Come on kid, we're heading out

You get up from the small love seat you were relaxing on and head to the main area. Sam and Dean were at the 'mission' table.

Sam was on his laptop and Dean was scrolling on his phone. Sam notices you first and shuts his laptop which makes Dean look up from his phone. Sam gets up from the table, Dean puts his phone in his pocket and pulls his keys out of his other pocket and jingle's them.

"Are lets get goin you two" Dean says with a smirk. You and Sam nod and follow Dean out to the garage and all pile into the Impala. You in the backseat, Sam and Dean in the front.

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littlemarianah · 1 month

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WIP!

Where Katniss watches Peeta draw while their children play in the lake.

Here is just a little piece of my fanfiction in progress. "The Flower and the Willow"

Read and feel free to leave your feedback in the comments

"He sat on the floor next to me and took that thick paper from his sketchbook, found some charcoal pencils that he kept in his pencil case, and started doodling. It just seemed like random lines until started to formed a horizon line, then the trees and mountains in the background. He made the reflection of the water, smudging it with his little finger and erasing it with the eraser to give the details. He took a thinner pencil to make the thin grasses on the ground. Soon, that blank sheet of paper became like a photograph of the lake we're looking at.

“I don’t know how you are able to do that.” I said.

"What?" He raised his head, looking at me, coming out of a trance. He noticed that I was talking about the drawing and gave a sideways smile. "That's nothing." He tried to sound modest. “I was lucky they left me without a leg and not an arm.” I laughed and he seemed to enjoy hearing me laugh.

“Can you draw them?” I pointed to our children running along the edge of the lake.

He nodded. He turned the sheet over to the other side, to make use of every inch of paper he could. These drawing materials are a fortune and we couldn't afford too much. Peeta always had to use every last blank space and every last piece of pencil he had left before replenishing his supply.

He watched the children for a few moments. I think they were looking for worms in the mud. They were crouched at the edge of the lake, and unlike the landscape, they are constantly moving. I don't know how Peeta does it. He began to scribble with speed, lines, and curves. I began to recognize the parts I knew so well. Willow's slender ankles and two braids hanging down her neck. Rye's chubby cheeks with his blonde curls falling across his forehead. He immortalized them as I wished I could: small, innocent, and happy.

“Oh my god, Peet.” I whispered. I touched the paper gently, afraid of ruining it. “This looks so beautiful.”

“It’s just a draft. When we get home I'll paint it, and it will look more realistic.” Peeta told me, looking at me, while I admired his drawing with an open mouth. "Now you." He said, placing the pencil on the empty part of the sheet.

He ran his thick fingers through my hair, tucking my bangs behind my ear. I didn't really like this angle, this is the ear that the fire left deformed. This was the side of my neck and shoulder that had the most visible scars. I tried not to complain and just stood still. He moved away from me a little, and placed the paper on his thighs in such a way that I couldn't see what he was doing, only hear the sound of the charcoal scraping the sheet.

“You don’t need to stay so still.” he whispered after a while.

“I don’t want to ruin your drawing.” I said.

His eyes hunted me, captured my details and returned to the paper. I felt naked. Like he could see everything about me, every little thing I try to hide. His blue eyes sparkled every time they met mine, so loving. I laugh a little when he looks at me for a long time. I would think he was flirting with me if he didn't know we were married. My drawing took longer than the other two.

"Right! Here it is." He turned the clipboard towards me. I blushed a little. Peeta always drew me prettier than I really was. My brightest and most sensual eyes, my sweetest smile, my softest countenance. Even the scars were there, he didn't remove them. My thick, wrinkled skin from the burns felt smoother and my deformed ear wasn't so bad. I looked at him perplexed, he smiled and bit his lips in excitement. “I tried harder on this one. Tell me what you think”

“I look prettier than I really am.” I murmured.

"You always say that." He put down the pencils and put his arm around my neck.

“I liked it. It’s a very beautiful drawing.” I said to not disappoint him.

“I just copy what I see.” he smiled.

We just sat in silence watching the children run in the water."

#the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #fanfic #headcanon #epilogue #willow mellark #rye mellark #The flower and the willow

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tgmsunmontue · 6 months

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Hangster Meet-cute I guess - this was meant to be a short ficlet I started on my phone, but then I needed to distract myself so... here. Have 2k, dialogue heavy with Jake having three sisters who do the opposite of cock-block him. (Rated Mature but I guess I am also writing a second very explicit sequel which already has over 2k).

I can't post it on AO3 until I finish a couple of other fandom WIPs because I have a very real fear of being hunted down by friends in that fandom. They're terrifying. And have been waiting ~10 years. So hiding in Tumblr for now.

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

His eyes track the attractive bare-chested server across the room. He looks older than most of the others, actually nearer Jake's age, perhaps a little older. He's clearly comfortable in his own skin, laughing and joking with the other servers and patrons alike. Jake doesn't usually like facial hair on his partners, but he'd let it slide for a taste of that...

"Do you think I can order him?" Jake asks, and he knows it's going to wind up every single person sitting at the table with him.

"Don't even think about it!" Katie hisses, giving him a sharp elbow in the ribs and Laura is glaring at him from across the table. He can see the lecture shaping on the tip of her tongue about not making servers uncomfortable in their place of work. Even in a place where the servers are mostly bare-chested men. But it's his sister's 40th birthday, and apparently Bird on a Wire is the place to go. So here he is. About to be hen-pecked by his three sisters. Ivy is just laughing though, nodding her approval and he reaches across the table for a fist-bump.

"I won't. I promise. But I can't promise to not think about it. Appreciating the place was why I was allowed to come along, right?"

"You were allowed to come because you promised to behave."

"I promised no such thing," Jake replies, and the same server he was watching before is approaching them and Jake licks his lips, because the view is only improving.

"Evening everyone, sorry for the delay. We're a little understaffed tonight so I'm just here to take drink orders. That's all I'm trusted with front of house," he says, and his little self-depreciating smile has Jake's lips twitching in response.

"And back of house?" Jake asks.

"Back of house I'm in charge baby."

Jake's eyebrows shoot up and he grins, a little laugh escapes, god, he can't believe he's sitting at a table with all of his sisters while a guy makes eyes at him. He's pretty sure eyes are being made. He's a little out of practice. But he's not dead.

"So, what can I get for you all? Are you celebrating something special?"

"It's her birthday. A significant number that I can't mention upon pain of death."

Ivy smiles sweet-sharp and he gets kicked in the shin regardless.

"I'll have a Blueberry Margarita, she's having a Strawberry Sour..." Ivy starts, pausing to look expectantly at Katie.

"I'll have the Coconut Daiquiri thanks."

"And for you?"

Jake quickly runs his eyes down the menu and stops at the first one... A Little Passion.

"A Little Passion."

"Sure thing. One of all my favorites coming right up."

"I hope the drinks are better than your flirting, I feel like I need to hose you two off..." Ivy says looking between them and Jake frowns at her, but he notes that the server (he didn't introduce himself, and Jake wishes he had a name already) just looks quietly amused.

"I've never had any complaints. And I don't get paid to flirt with customers. I actually get paid to cook. And occasionally make cocktails."

Jake realises that's what he had meant about being in charge back of house and he's always had a thing for... competence. Well, he's got a thing for good-looking guys, them being good at something generally means they're dedicated lovers and it's not steered him wrong (much) in the past.

"Rooster! They need you in the kitchen."

"And duty calls..."

Jake watches Rooster (and what the fuck kind of name is that?) tip an imaginary hat at them before he leaves to walk towards the bar where he talks to a woman and gestures toward their table. Then he's shrugging on a black chef's jacket with brightly coloured cuffs and front panel and buttoning it closed. Shame. Then he's giving a little salute to Jake and fucking winking as he disappears into the kitchen and Jake is pretty sure his cheeks are going to hurt from grinning so much.

"Could you stop looking like you want to climb him like a tree? Please?"

"Ain't no other way I can look at him... and you told me I couldn't flirt with him."

"Was that you not flirting?"

"You're just jealous."

"Last time we take you anywhere..."

"We say that every time, and yet we always bring him..."

"I'm a fucking delight. Plus you all bond over finding me annoying, don't pretend you don't. Imagine your relationship with each other if you didn't have me for you to direct your annoyance towards..."

"Why do you think they call him Rooster?" Katie asks and Jake's train of thought derails completely.

"I think you just broke his brain."

"Brain cell you mean."

"I thought Javy had custody this weekend?"

"Fuck off..." Jake mumbles, ignoring them. Who needs fucking enemies when you have sisters?

"You definitely want to fuck something."

Jake groans but also can't say anything, definitely can't disagree because she's not wrong, they'll just roast him further. He glances back toward the bar and there are two people there now, both mixing drinks but clearly having a conversation. One is the same woman from before, one of the few women who work here, the other is an older man, fully clothed, and Jake's not sure but he looks familiar. They almost seem to be arguing and then she's pulling at his shirt and shaking a finger before leaving him behind the bar, laughing at him as she walks toward them with a tray of drinks.

"Evening everyone. My name is Phoenix. I have a Blueberry Margarita, Strawberry Sour, Coconut Daiquiri and A Little Passion?"

"The margarita is for me, sour for her," Ivy states. "Daiquiri for her and the drink drowning in innuendo is for him..."

"You got a name handsome?" Phoenix asks, placing the drinks down in the right places but giving him a look that tells him he's being assessed and maybe even found wanting. It's not a familiar feeling at all and he instantly feels a little defensive.

"His name is Jake."

"I can speak for myself..." Jake grumbles, taking a sip of his drink, and fuck that's good. Lychee sweetness off-set with the tang of passionfruit and lime meaning there's no trace of vodka at all.

"And you're all... sisters?"

"Unfortunately," Jake says, and the flat look he gets from Phoenix has Laura cackling madly which makes Phoenix smirk in amusement. A little. At least she seems to like someone.

"Have you been sent out to dig up information?" Laura asks, and she's fucking gleeful and Jake doesn't know what he wants the answer to be. Busies himself looking at the menu and wondering what Rooster would recommend.

"Well, it was me or Rooster's dad and I thought I'd be the slightly less embarrassing option."

Jake's eyes flick to the man behind the bar and realizes now why he looks familiar. They've even got the same fucking moustache. He catches Jake looking and nods his head, raises a glass in a toast and Jake flushes, coming back to the conversation and startles to hear Laura giving Phoenix his entire dating history. Jesus.

"Could we maybe be allowed to just ask each other out? Pretty sure we're adults and don't need to have a playdate organised."

"So, you are going to ask him out?"

"If it's not an asshole move to do it when it's his place of work..." Jake mutters, giving Laura a side-eye but she just takes a sip of her drink and pulls a face at him.

"Oh, it's a little bit of an asshole move, but he can take care of himself. I just wanted to make sure you weren't too much of an asshole. And you've got three sisters being pretty decent wingmen, so you can't be too bad."

"Hear that, you have us to thank."

He's never going to hear the end of this, regardless of the outcome, so he might as well try for a variety on a good one so he has a minimum of regrets.

"Are you ready to order? Or would you like me to come back?"

"Oh, I want you to come back solely for the entertainment value, but I'm ready to order. I was ready before we got here."

"Great!"

Jake lets his sisters order first and then opens his mouth to place his own but Phoenix is snapping the cover over the tablet and shaking her head.

"You have any allergies of food intolerances handsome?"

"No..." Jake says slowly, realization dawning.

"Great, then I'm just going to let you trust the chef..."

"Not a fan of shellfish," he offers quickly, before she walks away, and she nods and gives him a quick grin, it reminds him of a shark.

"This is the best birthday ever..." Ivy says, looking incredibly entertained.

"Glad I could be of service," Jake says, rolling his eyes.

---

The food is fucking amazing, even if he doesn't know exactly what he's putting in his mouth. He recognizes some things, he's done fine dining before, even if it's never been in a place where the wait-staff were semi-undressed. His sisters have all picked stuff off his plate despite his best efforts to guard his food; Ivy making him swear to try and get the recipe for whatever the hell he was served as his entree.

His sisters pass on dessert but agree to share a cheese plate and he waits for something to come out just for him and is disappointed when nothing appears. Then someone does appear, and for a second he thinks it's Rooster however...

"Hi, I'm Goose. Rooster's dad..."

What the actual fuck. Does no-one have normal names?

"Does everyone have bird names?"

"Only the important people," Phoenix states, and she's grabbing Goose's arm and attempting to pull him away, but the older man just grins madly, easily resisting being moved. "He's going to kill you, leave them alone."

"I ain't bothering them. I'm not bothering you am I?"

"Oh no, this is the best," Laura says, popping a slice of cheese in her mouth.

"Baby Goose hasn't flirted with anyone in years -" Goose starts, and then Rooster is behind him, eyes flashing with annoyance and hmm if that look doesn't give Jake a little thrill. He's not wearing his chef coat, and nor is he shirtless, but he's wearing a tight enough tank to show off his, well, his everything, and then a loose button down clearly pulled on in haste because it's inside-out.

"Dad! For... god. I don't flirt with customers because I don't normally see any."

"And you also suck at flirting," Phoenix interjects.

"He's doing fine..." Jake says and Rooster catches his eye and grins slowly, eyebrows quirking, tongue poking out just enough to tease and Jake grins back.

"They deserve each other..." Ivy says dryly, and Jake looks to her, confused.

"What?"

"We might as well all be invisible. Rooster's lucky the backup got here to save his distracted ass..." Phoenix says.

"Hey! I'm not even meant to be working tonight."

"Bet you're glad you did though..." Goose says and Jake's glad that Rooster looks as exasperated with his family as Jake is with his... actually, on that note.

"Happy birthday Ivy, I believe it's Laura's turn to pick up the tab so I will see you all later. Uh."

He stops then, suddenly unsure of what his next action should be, but then Rooster is stepping away from his father, making a follow me gesture with his head and Jake follows willingly.

"Hi again..."

"Hi."

"Did you enjoy everything?"

"I sure did."

"That's what I like to hear..."

"So, you come here often?" Jake asks and then cringes, mortified, because what the actual fuck is he thinking? The man works here. Phoenix had snorted as she walked past with Goose, shaking her head and giving him that same unimpressed look, although maybe she looked a little fonder. Hard to get a read.

"Only every day of my life... I live upstairs."

Jake's mouth goes dry at his suggestive tone and he swallows instinctively to try and wet it and Rooster's eyes flick between his lips and eyes and Jake's breath catches.

"I really want to take you on a date though... but what I really need is a shower."

Jake can see he’s hot, sweaty and slightly oil covered from working in the kitchen and it does nothing but make him feel equally hot.

"Not on my behalf you don’t…" He'd just want to make him all hot and sweaty again. Yeah. Totally normal reaction.

“Hmm. Good to know," Rooster says, and Jake is pretty sure his thoughts are easily readable on his face. "Did you want dessert?"

"I don’t know. What’s on offer?" He matches the tone Rooster had used when he'd mentioned living upstairs and the slow smile he gets has his stomach flipping in anticipation.

"Phoenix, I’m out," Rooster states, reaching to knock his knuckles on the bar top twice before grabbing Jake’s hand and tugging him toward the exit.

PART TWO

#ficlet #hangster #sereshaw #what happens when I go out to lunch to a place called Bird on a Wire #AU where there is no-one dead and no fighter pilots - I forgot to say that originally

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lavandula-ipsum · 6 months

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let me spoil you - smutsgiving challenge

I cheated all the rules and brought a sneak peak of a WIP to the smutsgiving. Enjoy <3

Pairing: dark!Luke Skywalker x rebel!Reader (not really that relevant, we're going straight in for the fun

Wordcount: 609

CW: shameless smut. Minors DNI

***

Hell, she can’t remember the last time she thought of herself as a good person, back when she was so eager to struggle for reasons she can’t even remember anymore. Acting in hopes of making her dead master proud, like he could see her, feel foolish now. However, there’s one thing she misses from her past righteous little self, and that’s knowing how to fight. Yeah, perhaps she was too hard on herself back then. Maybe she was good. However, that illusion fades as she voices this one command.

"Put your hands against the wall.”

It isn’t wise and she hates herself for it. However, her common sense has been taken captive by the lovely confusion blooming on Luke’s face. “You can either do it or wait for me to change my mind."

That candid expression she’d missed so much in him dissolves into a bratty smirk. "Yes, ma'am."

She doesn’t appreciate the attitude, not when she’s this angry. There’s a second when he’s with his back turned to her, handcuffed wrists against the wall of the cell, that she considers listening to reason and leaving. Instead, the challenge becomes appetizing. Afraid to let her doubt be read, she steps closer. Luke inhales sharply as she reaches around and, carefully at first, palms over his trousers. She quickly finds what she’s come looking for.

“Is this your usual reaction whenever you come chasing after me? No wonder you put so much effort in hunting me down.”

Luke shudders when she presses on his erection more boldly this time, a reaction that betrays a prolonged aching. Exactly what she needs to hastily undo the fastenings, eager to make most of the little time they might have for this. The rebel gives a generous lick to her palm before sliding it into his pants, while her other hand tugs down on the waistband of his underwear before digging her fingers in his hip. She rubs wet circles around the sensitive head of his cock, already painfully swollen and pink, and takes delight in the soft whimper she gets in response to her slightly aggressive and sudden attentions. But she decides to be merciful and softens the touch with the first stroke down the full length. She intends for this to be quick but she still wants to enjoy it a little.

“Here I come to talk business while your thoughts drift somewhere else entirely,” she teases. Luke hums something that’s meant to sound like an apology. “Don’t worry about it, I got you. Next time, just ask.”

While he leans against the wall, he can get a good view of everything she’s doing. It’s only fair, since she loves to watch his enthralled face progressively let go of that initial put together facade he exhibited at first, the red deepening across his cheeks and his eyes brimming with filthy pleas, like he doesn’t believe this is happening to him.

Suddenly, a gloved hand grabs her collar and brings her up, her back hitting the wall. Before she can protest her lips meet his, needy and warm and sloppy, as his palms cup her cheeks, one burning hot and the other cool.

“Please, love. Faster,” Luke begs through the tiny gap he allows. The rebel melts at the sight of need painted in his glossy eyes, at being held so sweetly after so long, and realizes that she can’t get angry at him.

“That’s it. Ask me anything,” as she happily complies, her hand dancing with soft movements of his hips, a low moan forms from the back of his throat. “I can’t get enough of your pretty face when you do.”

#smutsgiving #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker smut #star wars fanfiction #drabble #yeah i know this is over 100 words come fight me #dark luke skywalker #sith luke skywalker #shameless smut #wip #enemies AND lovers

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obsessedasusual · 2 years

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Drunk and Tired - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

xReader

Prequel to We're Only Human.

Summary: Before she was comforting Jake and helping him through his insecurities, she was sitting next to a drunk Coyote and listening to him grieve his broken heart.

Or, how Jake and Reader meet.

Warnings: Swearing, excessive drinking, cat calling, almost certainly wrong information on how the navy works

Note: 3.2k - it’s here!!!! I’ve been working on this little piece for so long and I love it! Who doesn’t love a little back story moment? I have so many wips half done at the mo hopefully I can get a few out shortly!

Summer nights in Florida were sticky.

You’d been there two months and your hair, skin, and mood still hadn’t adjusted.

It’s not like you disliked the state. Quite the opposite in fact. You just craved a good night's sleep in a cool room. And pray as you might, you weren’t holding out hope that tonight would be any better.

The little luxury was the relief that was waiting for you back at your apartment. The second you got home you were going to unzip the hell out of this clingy evening gown.

The suffocating, satin-y dress was gorgeous, but fuck were you excited to get the damned thing off your body and breathe. Plus, one of your fingernails had chipped and now it caught on the material everytime bloody second. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you.

You walked further up the bustling street away from the gala you’d just politely excused yourself from and hunted for a clearer space to order an Uber.

You must have looked a sight. Striding through the street crowded with drunk groups and couples enjoying a nice, albeit late, meal in your floor length dress and high heels.

Finally letting yourself relax against the wall of a busy bar you pulled out your phone ready to call a ride.

Your thought process was interrupted however when a groan and some incoherent mumbling sounded just around the corner. Pausing your movements, you waited to see if the noise came again. It did. And it sounded like… laughter?

This wasn’t your problem, you should ignore it. You were from Queens, you knew well that a lone woman shouldn’t go investigating weird noises around the side of a bar in the city late at night. But yet you found your feet moving before you could stop yourself.

Rounding the corner you found a man, surely around your age, sitting on the ground near a dumpster, a half empty bottle of tequila in his hands.

“Mikaylaaaaaa.” He called in a sing song voice before breaking into laughter again.

Your shoe crunched on a stone below you causing the man’s head to snap in your direction, “Mikay- you’re not Mikayla.”

His eyes narrowed and his finger pointed at you.

You slowly moved closer, still keeping your distance in case you needed to head back into the populated street at lightning speed, “Um no… I’m not Mikayla. Are you, are you okay?”

The man glared at you in silence for a minute longer before taking a big swig of the alcohol in his hand before calling out again, “Mikaylaaaaaa!”

You did a quick 360 turn to see if anyone was about to respond to his call, coming up empty.

“Um,” you began, “are you here with someone?”

He gave a false laugh as he processed your question, “Nope!”

You took a step closer, “What about Mikayla, are you here with her?”

“Ha! Is she looking for me?”

“Um… I don’t know. Maybe?” Getting sense out of a drunk person was damn near impossible.

“Why’re you dressed like that?” The man tilted his head in confusion as he studied your dress.

You looked down at yourself, seemingly forgetting you were currently dressed up to the nines, “Oh, I had a work thing.” Quickly snapping out of the change of subject you looked back at the man on the ground, “Are you here alone? Is there someone to take you home?”

He let out another laugh like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard before he took another gulp of tequila, deciding it was a great time to try and stand.

Watching with a grimace as he practically hugged the brick wall to drag himself up you wondered if you should help the guy. Once he stood at his full height, which was… quite tall, and started swaying you snapped into action, quickly rushing to his side and grabbing his arm to lower him to the ground once again.

“Okay you just… you just sit tight for a second.”

He obliged with no argument.

“Um… I’ll call you an Uber!” You unlocked your phone and opened the app, “What’s your address?”

His eyes were glazed over and he stared at you like you had four heads, “I don’t know you?”

You sighed and quickly told him your name, “No you don’t know me but I’m trying to help you, dude. What’s your address? Let’s get you home.”

“Mikaylaaaaa!” He called again. Jesus Christ.

Kneeling down next to him, you asked for his phone, “I’ll try call her for you.”

If he wasn’t going to give you his address maybe she could help. His face scrunched up at your offer, “Call her? You can call her?”

“I mean, yeah. If you give me your phone.” Holding out your hand expectantly he finally caved and slapped his phone in your hand.

“Call her.”

Okay, bossy.

Unlocking his phone with a simple swipe you were surprised to learn he didn’t have a passcode.

You managed to navigate to his contacts app and began scrolling, sighing in relief when you came across a ‘Mikayla’.

Tapping the call button you held the phone to your ear only to be met right away with an automated voicemail.

God damn it.

Trying again you got the same automated voice.

Groaning at the situation you sat down next to the drunk no longer caring about getting the expensive dress dirty, “Her phone is off. Is there someone else I can call for you?”

The dramatic groan he let out surprised you, but at this point the, “Mikaylaaaaa!” didn't.

“Okay, dude, seriously. Just give me your address so I can get your drunk ass home.” You’d come this far, and the man was way too far gone to be safely left alone.

When you were met with silence you swore to yourself.

Should’ve stayed at the fucking gala and schmoozed the whole night.

With no other idea to fall back on, you unlocked the phone again and this time searched for his call log. The last call he received was a few hours ago from a ‘Jake S’.

You threw one last look at the drunk next to you and shrugged, fuck it. Tapping the contact the phone rang. And rang. And rang. And wow now you were about to cry in frustration if this person did not answer the-

“The fuck do you want, Coyote?” A tired southern drawl came from the other end.

“His name is Coyote?” What sort of name?

“Who the fuck is this?” The drawl came again, snapping you back into focus.

“Oh right. Sorry. Um. I just came across this guy outside a bar. He’s very drunk. Like, very drunk. And won’t tell me his address to get him home and he can barely stand,” you were rambling now, “and you were the most recent person on his call log so I was hoping you could tell me where this guy lived so I could order him an Uber?”

It was silent on the other end for a beat, you almost wondered if he’d fallen back asleep. The man, Coyote, raised the bottle ready to take mother sip in the corner of your eye distracting you from the phone call, “Hey! No more of that tequila, dude.”

You reached over and snatched the bottle from his hands causing him to whine out in defeat.

A sigh came from the phone.

“Jesus, okay. He won’t be able to get back to his place by himself. Where are you and I’ll come get his sorry ass.” The rustling on the other end must’ve been the man grumpily getting out of bed.

“Oh thank god! We’re outside the bar on the corner of Jackson and Munro, The Thirsty Giant?”

“How the fuck did he end up over there?” He muttered more to himself than to you, “Okay, keep him there I’ll be by in 20.”

“Great! Okay. Thank you. See you soon.”

The guy hummed in agreement and disconnected the call. You let out a sigh of relief and looked to Coyote.

“Someone’s coming for you, drunky.”

“Mikayla?” He looked at you hopeful.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” You shrugged.

You relaxed against the rough wall behind you, still holding the bottle of tequila out of Coyote’s reach.

The next 20 minutes must have been the slowest 20 minutes of your life. Between latching on to the man beside you to stop him from running off somewhere, batting his hand away from constantly reaching for the bottle and convincing him that Mikayla would see him tomorrow, you were sure ready for bed.

Coyote’s phone vibrated between you showing Jake S on the screen and somehow he managed to grab it before you, “Mikayla!?”

You rolled your eyes, if you ever met this Mikayla you were gonna have a word.

Coyote whined into the receiver at whatever his friend said and limply tossed the phone in your direction, “S’for you.”

Accepting the phone you held it to your ear, “Hello?”

A sigh of relief came on the other end, “Hey, I’m here. Are you inside?”

“No, we're around the corner, by the dumpster.”

“Okay, hold on.”

“Mhm, holding.”

The sound of crunching gravel to your left caught your attention and you caught sight of a tall, blond man rounding the corner with a phone to his ear. Please be him.

“Thank G-.” Jake’s words were cut off as he disconnected the call.

The blond approached wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with NAVY across the front. He came to a stop in front of you and stared down with furrowed eyebrows.

“So. I’m Jake.”

You stared up at him, dazed with the late hour and introduced yourself, finally finding the strength to push yourself to your feet.

“I’m Coyote!” Your attention snapped back to the drunk man who had his eyes closed and was quite happily rolling his head from side to side.

“He’s uh, had a lot to drink.” You offered dumbly.

“I see that.” Jake stood with his hands on his hips before jumping into action, “Right, c,mon.”

He leant toward Coyote and grabbed his bicep tugging upward, “Stand up, let’s go.”

“Noooo.” Coyote groaned, dropping his weight completely.

“Get your ass up, Machado.”

Well this was going great. You stood back from the duo and watched the scene unfold. The way Jake was struggling to drag his friend off the ground was almost comical. You didn’t know how much help you would be given the stilettos that currently adorned your feet but figured it was worth a shot.

Moving to grab at Coyote’s other bicep you knelt to try and catch his eye, “We can take you to Mikayla.”

You felt Jake’s questioning gaze on you but ignored it.

“You can?” The drunk man stared at you as you nodded.

“Yup! But you’ve gotta get up and walk for a bit.”

He seemed to ponder the situation in his head for a moment before finally nodding and moving to push himself up with the help of you and Jake.

“Okay,” Jake grunted as he took most of his friend’s weight, “Little more help please Coyote.”

While Coyote had one arm thrown over Jake’s shoulder to lean on, you had taken a firm grip on his other to keep him as steady as possible. Was it actually helping in any way? Probably not.

“How do you know Mikayla?” Jake breathed out as he steered the three of you in the direction of his vehicle.

“Oh I don’t. But Coyote here has been going on about her since I stumbled across his drunk ass.” You explained, he let out a single chuckle in response.

“Yeah that sounds about right.”

“Girlfriend?” You questioned, tilting your head forward to peer across Coyote’s wide frame to catch a glimpse of Jake.

He rolled his eyes, “Ex. Messy breakup, blocked his number.”

Oh, so her phone wasn’t off after all.

“Poor guy’s pretty, uh, cut up about it don’t you think?” You’d spent damn near an hour with this guy, you were allowed to pry a little.

“Yeah,” another grunt from Jake when Coyote tripped and dropped more weight on him, “it’s been a couple weeks. This is the first night I told him I couldn’t go out with him. Guy’s been wearing me out.”

Me too. With his conversation.

How Coyote had managed to keep his mouth shut this entire walk you had no idea.

“Jesus. Sounds like you should lock his door and throw away the key.”

“After tonight, that’s not a dumb idea.” He laughed as he led you towards a black truck, stopping to fish into his pocket for a set of keys, “Could you get the door?”

You jumped into action and opened the passenger door. It was then you realised that you had been supporting exactly none of Coyote’s weight that entire time. Whoops.

“Okay,” Jake grunted as he stepped forward and all but shoved his friend into the truck and wrapped the seatbelt around him, “easy does it, Machado.”

Coyote mumbled something under his breath as his head laid back, so close to sleeping.

You took a step back and swung on the balls of your feet, clapping awkwardly, “Cool so… thanks for coming to get him.”

Jake turned to face you, leaning against the now closed passenger door. He seemed to properly take in your appearance for the first time that night, dress that now housed many small stones that had stuck to the fabric, and heels that would absolutely put him in hospital if you stood on his foot, “How’re you getting home?”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise at the question, “Oh I was just gonna get an Uber or something.”

He kissed his teeth at the suggestion and pondered for a moment before shaking his head, “Mm, no. Not this late, in this part of the city when you’re by yourself,” he nodded to your attire which did a great job of making your assets look well, great, “jump in, I’ll give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to, really. I’m fine.”

“If you think I’m just gonna leave a lady out here by herself, you’re wrong. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know you…” Sure he seemed nice enough but you had literally just met the guy.

“You didn’t know Coyote here either an hour ago and yet you babysat his drunk ass.”

You tipped your head in acknowledgement.

“Come on, there’s all sorts of weirdos out here. I really would not feel okay with leaving you here.” He did raise a good point.

“How do I know you’re not one of those weirdos?”

“Relax, I'm in the Navy.”

Your eyebrow went sky high at that, “That doesn’t bring me the comfort you think it does.”

He laughed at that. Genuinely laughed and shook his head. As luck would have it, just as you were waiting for his retort you heard a couple of catcalls come from behind you. Jake straightened his posture right away, taking a protective step towards you as you turned on instinct to see where the whistles had come from.

Three guys were stood just outside of the bar’s entrance, eyes on you like you were a piece of meat, nudging each other and gesturing toward you.

A warmth spread across your body as Jake gently took hold of your forearm and pulled, eyes keenly staring at the group of guys, “So how about that ride?”

You nodded without hesitation this time, “That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

His hand guided you to the back door, he offered his arm as support as you clambered your way into the back in the truck, heels not making it an easy task. Once you had taken a seat he reached down and tucked the bottom of your dress into the truck as well, ensuring it didn’t get caught in the door as he shut it.

The soft grumblings of Coyote filled the silence as Jake made his way around to his door, hopping in and starting the truck immediately to fill the air with a light heat.

“So where am I taking you?” He pulled out of his parking spot and started down the road when you told him your address.

The ride was silent for a while, bar Coyote in shotgun moaning that you lied to him about Mikayla.

“His name isn’t really Coyote, right?” You questioned, “I’m guessing that’s one of those Navy names?”

He nodded and glanced at you in the rear view mirror, “Real name’s Javy. Coyote’s his callsign.”

You hummed in understanding, “Do you have a callsign?”

“Hangman.”

“…why Hangman?”

He smirked lightly at your curiosity, “That’s classified.”

Rolling your eyes you giggled, knowing it was bullshit.

Taking his turn to question you he eyed your outfit choice in the mirror, “What’s with the fancy get up?”

“I had a gala with work. Lots of important people with money, had to dress to impress and all that fun stuff.” You explained.

He huffed out a laugh, “What a way to end your night huh?”

You smiled out the window, watching the streets pass by, “And to think I would’ve missed it all if I’d just stayed and schmoozed a bit longer.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist.”

He nodded his head in acknowledgment before replying, “I’m a naval aviator. We both are.” He gestured to the near sleeping man beside him.

“Pilots, huh? How long have you been in Pensacola?”

His face twisted as he mentally worked it out, “Six or so months.”

It wasn’t long until Jake pulled up outside your apartment complex.

“Well,” you started, “this is where I leave you.”

He turned in his seat to face you in the back, “You okay heading up yourself?”

You smiled softly as you undid your seatbelt, “I’m good. Thank you for the ride, good luck with Sleeping Beauty.”

Jake chuckled as you climbed out of the truck, “Okay well, I’ll stay here til’ you get inside at least.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and met his eyes with a smile, “My tax dollars thank you for your service.”

That got another hearty laugh out of him, “Just doin’ my job, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night.” He smiled.

He watched you make your way up the path to the front door, keys swinging off your fingers when you raised the fob to unlock the door.

Holding the door open, you turned and waved at the blond one last time before making your way into the main hallway.

He gave a halfhearted wave in return before finally taking off back to his Navy appointed housing, drunk best friend at his side.

And if he turned up at your door the next morning with a hot chocolate and a pastry under the guise of it being a ‘thank you’ from the man you had babysat the night before (who was now nursing the mother of all hangovers), well… who were you to turn the handsome pilot away?

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #hangman x reader #hangman #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #coyote machado #javy coyote machado

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rriavian · 7 months

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For a prompt from @windsweptinred for the flower prompts we're doing with @bobbole. Still unfinished but I already had a short wip that the prompt worked really well with, and it was the kick I needed to get going with it a little more. Still very very rough but thought I'd share :) Hope you like it! <3

The Corinthian and Calliope: Rose, yellow, A murderer's confession, Prompt Jealousy—

After his failure to persuade Ethel Cripps to work with him the Corinthian seeks out another who might have cause to seek revenge against Dream.

Calliope surprises him.

Calliope knows the Corinthian, of course.

She had met Dream’s masterpiece while she was married.

She had heard of him long before, an impression built by Dream’s soft smile, the excitement glittering subtle in his eyes as he told her of his latest creation, a design he traced in sand as if proud to show off even an outline. Calliope has not seen the Corinthian since—to be expected, given both how she’d parted ways with Morpheus and the reality of her current situation—a surprise when she hears the door to her room open, sees a bloodstained knife glitter in the light. Next it catches in golden blond hair, scatters from the gleam of teeth; a memory in that too, of Oneiros and his painstaking hunt for exactly the right shades, his dedication to it, unwilling to give anything less than his very best to every single thing he made.

Calliope must admit she still admires him for that.

Then her eyes find the changes, the additions, the soft cream of the Corinthian’s coat, the dark opaque sunglasses hiding biting mouths. There is a deliberate slowness in how he now cleans the bloodied knife, how he wants her to watch it, to think about what must have happened to the only other occupant in Richard Madoc’s house. Calliope can feel that her captor isn’t dead, can feel it in the chains that keep her trapped here, knows exactly why this nightmare has approached her like this.

The Corinthian is a story stood close enough that she can read her former husband’s writing in the blurb, a compliment to the Corinthian’s own script when she reads further to find his finely printed prose.

He wants leverage.

“Corinthian.” Calliope greets calmly. “It has been some time.”

“Fancy finding you here.” The Corinthian replies with a sharp, mocking grin, not even bothering to pretend this wasn’t planned. “An oddly poetic coincidence, given what’s happened to Dream.”

He thinks to lure her into asking.

Calliope won’t.

“Do not speak to me of poetry.”

The Corinthian pauses. “You already know, don’t you?”

“That Oneiros has been captured? Yes.”

It amuses her that the Corinthian thought to tell her, thought to begin the game with the upper hand. The Fates had filled in more details, had gloated when she’d called for help, but even before that Calliope had known that Morpheus was missing. Of course she’d known, how could she not?, how could any immortal remain unawares to the disappearance of Dream of the Endless?

"He's free now." The Corinthian replies, leans against the door frame as if a slouch will make the words less targeted, throws hope at her and watches for a flinch. "Do you think he'll come for you?"

Calliope must admit that makes her stiffen.

"Do you think he will if I call him?"

A shrug.

There's tension though.

There's a minute grimace trying to twist the Corinthian's lips, a page torn out before Calliope can read it. The grin remains. He stays smug, grounds himself to it, more than a little overconfident because he’s gloating far too soon.

“I did it, you know. Strengthened the trap.” The Corinthian says slyly, watches her from where he's still leaning in the doorway, watches how Calliope sits on this bed in Richard Madoc's house while a few feet a way a door has long since stood unlocked. “It’s my fault he was there for so long.”

Now it's Calliope's turn to shrug. “So?”

The Corinthian seems entertained by her tone, even as it confuses him, even as he tries to get his teeth around it. “I want to ensure he’ll be gone a lot longer.”

“Then I wish you well in finding the luck you are hoping for, because you will certainly be needing it.” Calliope replies coolly.

“C’mon,” The Corinthian has been lazily circling his point like a vulture, like a wolf guiding prey towards a favoured terrain, now still as he prepares to lunge. “Aren’t you the least bit tempted?”

“By what?”

“Revenge.”

He’s said it because the Corinthian thinks it's something of what she wants. He thinks it’s bait that isn’t possible to resist, thinks it because there is a similar desire in him, sitting unrealised in his chest like a stone. Calliope wonders what her former husband did, wonders if it even matters, because she also knows that revenge is a second, a flicker, a blink in response to a blinding. It’s too fast, too instant to really register for someone as long lived as her; she cannot feast on something so small.

“Is that what this is to you? Revenge?”

He laughs. “Well, not only.”

“Tell me what else.” Calliope commands. “If you want my help then tell me why.”

The Corinthian thinks faster than hesitation can register.

He switches plans at the same smooth speed, and it’s a truth he’d not wanted to lead with, bait he was saving only for a moment suited to the greater power of its sting. “I won’t go back to the Dreaming. I quite like it here, and so it’s not just about revenge. It’s about freedom.”

How like a nightmare to dream of a concept even humanity longs for.

How like a nightmare to think the guarantee of it can be found in their world.

“If you can only be so when Morpheus is trapped,” Calliope says; sat there on this bed in a thin nightdress, chained to a mortal by the laws of her own kind, chained to a man who ‘needs’ her gifts to give him the life he thinks he deserves. “If your own freedom relies on the imprisonment of another—"

She shrugs.

“Then can you really say you’re free at all?”

#dream of the endless #the Corinthian #Calliope #flower prompt #Calliope and the Corinthian #the sandman #fic progress

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megraen · 10 months

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So @ladykatie512 asked for my help in putting together some Tinder dating profile templates, so I thought I'd share them. Enjoy the dating profile for my FC5 OC, Abigail Fehn.

[PAGE ONE] [PAGE TWO]

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #oc: abigail fehn #wip: what we're hunting for #far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry #jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #canva template #tinder

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thetruearchmagos · 14 days

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WIP Questionnaire

Thank you kindly for the Tag, @theprissythumbelina !

1. What is the first part of your WIP that you created?

Well, the Setting, probably, which as an answer works for just about any of the WIPs I could name. In theory you could argue Gustav and the Magician, individually and as a 'set' of sorts, technically predate my coming up with the 12 Worlds, but the form they took then has only passing resemblance to their current incarnation.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Ooo, well, I've been thinking I'd probably see about getting something original made, or making something myself as a side thing. I mean, I kinda envision a lot of my WIPs as serial animations in my head anyhow, so I've put more thought into this question than reality is ever likely to require.

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

Well... You know how big this list could be. I love all of them, and at any moment which forces / allows me to dig deeper into any single one of them makes me love them even more. Still, my final choice is an obvious one: Gustav Johann Schmidt, who's been in it since the very start, and who's voice has by now almost become my own whenever he comments on some facet of his world in the same way I would.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fan base would share?

Hmm, well, I've always thought this would go down two tracks. First of all being the classic 'Techno Thriller' crowd, the sorts who like tanks going boom and spies under deep cover: I'd go with things like The Hunt For Red October and Red Storm Rising, both being stalwarts of the genre which have absolutely been personally inspiring. The second track goes down the wider book / writing community, or at least those looking for 'genre fiction' and all that, who might discover the 12 Worlds more on its fantastical or worldbuilding grounds than for its techno thriller nature: I don't really 'understand' what I'd mean by this cohort myself as much, but I guess it could include series like ASOIAF, possibly.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Well... If we're speaking in the past tense, as far as things that have already happened go I'd put forwards "making sure the worldbuilding exists and isn't utterly contradictory", since there's too little writing down so far to count for a big struggle. Dates are hard, and measuring things on the order of decades to a century leaves me with a lot of uncomfortable dead space on one hand, and a bunch of events clustered together on the other. Untangling this has to happen before the writing does, to me, and it's gonna be hellish.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Uhh... Technically, Snake In The Sandbox (Gustav's third and least brought up WIP) features two animals! One's a snake which literally scares G's shirt off when he finds it in his tent, and the other's some sort of desert lizard the 18th Corps adopts as its mascot.

7. How do your characters get around? (Ex. Trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Oh, probably their respective combat vehicles more than anything, though long distance stuff gets done by plane / aeroship, and getting between Worlds means ships for everyone. Non military types might get their own car, or plane.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

Technically brought this up already, but the answer's worldbuilding. It's always worldbuilding. Though within that category, I'm technically supposed to be writing up a piece on the UC' policy towards Goilac / Nouvoulouis pre SSAW, but... I have been having a lazy weekend.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe) of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Big flashy boom booms and cunning military tactics, strategy, and leadership on the one hand for sure, but I'd like to think the depth, history, and life that exists within the 12 Worlds might have some appeal to readers.

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Published novel, or really a few considering how many there are already for the 12 Worlds. Then... Well, I think I've got a few ideas in me for the Setting yet.

Anyone fancy a boardgame?

And that's that! Tagging @athenswrites @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @sanguine-arena @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @thatndginger and anyone who'd like to take part!

#writeblr #writeblr stuff #my wips #writing

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liminalmemories21 · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @three-drink-amy, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @bonheur-cafe, and @heartstringsduet - and also @jesuisici33 from yesterday with Tidbit Tuesday which I did not have time to answer because I had dinner guests and then I collapsed in a heap on the couch. Thank you all!

"So, how's the house hunting going?" Amy asks as she sets their waters down. He groans. "Not you too." "I think it might be a banana cream pie and a cherry pie kind of night," TK tells her in a conspiratorial whisper that is somehow loud enough that they can probably hear him just fine in the kitchen. Carlos doesn't need to look to know that Amy's propped her hip on the edge of the booth and she's waiting for more details. "Ask him about the apartment we saw earlier today," TK suggests. "It was fine," he says flatly. TK doesn't bother looking at him. "He hated the bathroom, and he thought the kitchen was dark, and the ceilings were too low, and there was something about the closets that gave him the heebie-jeebies, but I haven't figured out what yet." He lifts his head to look at TK, mildly disconcerted. He's always known that TK is good at reading people, had to be to be a good thief, and much as he doesn’t enjoy it, it makes him good now at figuring out how to coax money out of Board members and city counselors to fund more and broader outreach programs, but TK usually has the grace not to turn that sharp restless intelligence on Carlos. At least not on purpose, not so obviously. It makes him pay attention to the conversation in a way he hadn’t been before. "What?" TK mutters. "You hated it, you just won't admit it." When Carlos doesn't say anything, TK turns a bright fake smile on Amy. "I'm contemplating trying the Lysistrata strategy, and seeing how long he lasts." It startles a laugh out of him. "Really? You think you'd win that contest?" Amy snorts and points at the menus they don't really need. "Talk amongst yourselves, I'll be back to take your order in a minute." TK raises an eyebrow at him when Amy leaves. "Why does nobody ever think I can do delayed gratification? Running a long con is all about waiting for the payoff." He points a finger at Carlos. "I was good at the long con." He hmms agreeably and doesn’t bother arguing the point. "The closets smelled damp." TK blinks at him, and he elaborates, "why they bothered me." TK nods cautiously. "It really was fine though," and then forstalls TK's objection. "We have to find somewhere soon, or sign a lease renewal on the condo, so maybe we stop trying to find somewhere perfect and just find something we can both live with." TK's eyebrows rise. "We can both live with the condo. There's nothing wrong with the condo. I like the condo just fine. You love the condo. That's not why we're trying to find somewhere new."

#wip #tarlos #911 lonestar #knave-verse

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celestemagnoliathewriter · 4 months

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GUESS WHAT. After posting about and revisiting my WIPs, I decided it's time to share what I have for a new longfic. We're going on ✨vibes✨ for this one, meaning no regular posting schedule and I'll be writing as I go. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the new journey with me. This fic was previously called The Interrupting Four. I changed the title to make it clearer as to what the fic would be about.

Main pairings: Tedoire (romantic), Scorpius & Albus (platonic), Remadora (eventually), Tedromeda (established), other ships to be added, but think canon compliant ones

Summary: After a one-night stand with the girl of his dreams, Victoire Weasley, Teddy Lupin thinks his day can't get any worse. But when an accident with a Time-Turner sends him, Victoire, Albus, and Scorpius back in time to 1991, he's sure he's never had a worse moment in his life.

Then Teddy realizes they're stuck in the past for good, and the fears of meeting his not-yet-dead parents, the war with Voldemort, and the hunt for horcruxes become his reality.

Oh, and he's still in love with Victoire, but she's got no idea.

#let's get ready to rumble #tedoire #teddy lupin #victoire weasley #hp next gen #time travel fix it #scorpius malfoy #albus potter #it's about to get angsty in here

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tolnas-vault · 11 days

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WIP to Watch Out For: The Red Harp

Reviewed: May 1 2024

Fic Data

Rating: E

Status: Incomplete

Publish Date: 2024-04-23

Last Update: 2024-04-24

Chapters: 2

Word Count: 10,639

Main Ship(s): Shadowheart/He Who Was

Side Ship(s): Geraldus/Rolan

Other Side Character(s): Jaheira, Aradin, Rugan, Minsc, Rion

Summary:

This city is filled with demons; and as the constables track down those mortal evils, those murderers and thieves, behind the unassuming door of The Red Harp they hunt those evils existing in the space beyond. The High Harper's daughter has been taken. The medium and the thief stand at the docks, growing cold as they await the arrival of their newest recruit, the exorcist, ready to begin the work. (Victorian/Penny Dreadful style AU)

Ao3 Stats (As of May 1 2024)

Shadowheart/He Who Was works on Ao3: 2

He Who Was works on Ao3: 35

Shadowheart works on Ao3: 6219

Review (Mild Spoilers Only)

Warnings: Gore, body horror, parasites, ghosts.

Favorite Quote:

"Shadowheart’s eyes traced down, now, to the floor - where the girls purple gown was gathered about her, the crumpled material of her skirts forming pools all around her, which, now that she was looking at it from somewhere so close, she could see, were shifting slightly. The material almost looking as if it were … boiling?"

Main POV: Shadowheart and Geraldus

Thoughts:

Oh this is a lovely gothic horror. Shadowheart and He Who Was slot perfectly into the rolls of medium and priest in this AU. And it's one of those AUs that weave the canon lore and AU lore together perfectly. Tieflings are still a thing, the Harpers and the Zhent are still a thing, but the technology and magic system have been adjusted for the setting.

The first two chapters offer a thrilling introduction to the world and this version of the characters. He Who Was, in all his creepy glory, gets a proper introduction from Shadowheart's pov, and we're then immediately flung into the action. And without spoiling what happens the action is absolutely amazing in this story. See the quote above for how evocative and uncanny the entities of this setting are, and how they're revealed to the audience through the dawning horror of the characters. I had chills during the first action scene.

And the action scenes also do an excellent job of character building. Each character's reaction to the monster of the scene reveals something about their character, and shows the author understands the NPCs they're working with.

And the author is also good at mixing up the horror as well. There's a solid combination of high intensity action, and unnerving suspense in just the first two chapters. I cannot wait to see where this story goes.

Who I'd recommend this fic to: This is the perfect fic for people people enjoy the goth aspects of both He Who Was and Shadowheart, and want to see the characters in a more classic horror setting, while not straying too far from the world of BG3.

How Unsatisfied Would I Be If This Never Updated Again?: Not too terribly. The first two chapters of this fic served as an excellent "pilot" episode for the premise. Which meant they of course set up the character relationships, mysteries, and plot threads that one would expect to be addressed over the course of the "season". But they were also their own self-contained story with a proper beginning, middle and end. A very classic "this is how the team gets together" pilot episode. Satisfying on its own, but leaving you wanting more.

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