#I have so many small wips I could finish but I’ve been bit by the reading bug this month I can’t stop reading 🥲

[shibaraki]

what do you mean it’s jan 18th and I haven’t finished writing anything yet

[ickaimp]

[BotW] Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy (discontinued)

My SidLink fic, ‘Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy’, has been getting a lot of attention on Ao3. It’s two parts, and I tried to write a part three from Link’s POV. That was back in 2018, and I’ve since moved five times. Needless to say, it never got past the WiP stage and the HTTYD fic, ‘Coming Down is the Hardest Thing‘ ate our brain instead. But in honour of Tears of the Kingdom, figured I’d put everything in roughly a chronological shape and post what got written. It’s not complete, prolly never will be, but hopefully it’ll give a couple chuckles. 2900 words. There is also now a bonus scene at the end of Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy on Ao3.

+++ He didn’t mean to return to the Zora Domain.

Death Mountain lived up to its name, Vah Rudania had been freed from Ganon’s touch, and all Link wanted to do was go somewhere cooler where he could relax and recoup from climbing over a moving metal structure that was standing over gigantic pools of lava. So his duty done to the Gorons, he’d pulled out the Sheikah slate and hit the first shrine that looked near water.  Finding himself facing a handful of angry armed Zora guards had been a bit of a shock, but he’d honestly been too tired to care. Getting the helmet off and breathing the cool humid air of the Zora domain helped, more so when Sidon arrived. The shock on the prince’s face was comical. Even more so when he told his guards to stand down and offered Link a bath. +++ The kiss to the top of his head was unexpected, and made his chest feel light and fluffy. The gesture was as unexpected as it was confusing, but not in a bad way. Sidon’s explanation, his offer of kisses, just made it funnier. +++ Kisses. Link reminded himself as he struggled and fought his way through the shrine. Sidon believed in him, and when Link finished, he could see Sidon again. And get another kiss. +++ He didn’t know how to pay back Sidon for the encouragement. For the kisses. And he wanted to. He wanted to show Sidon how much it meant to Link. How much Sidon himself meant to Link. Armour was important to Zora. Milpha had made him armour. He was pretty sure there were books in the library that explained how to make armour. And armour would keep Sidon safe when Link wasn’t around. He could do that. He had gems and supplies from his travels all over Hyrule. He could make armour. +++ He couldn’t make armour. He could, but not armour for Sidon, who was much larger than Link, or the average anyone. The armour came out the same every time he tried, just the right size for him to fit in to. This was a problem. +++ “You’re making something entirely new.” Rhondson said, shaking her head over Link’s confusion. “You and your magic have seen jewellery and many kinds of armour and know what shapes to make things it has seen before. But to make something new, you’re going to have to do it the hard way.” Link looked down at his hands. Well, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the time to learn something new. 

+++ Zora made their armour from scales, but Link didn’t have scales. Which meant that he needed to get scales somehow. What had scales? Fish, of course. Zora, but he couldn’t ask them for scales, not for this. Dragons. He had a small collection of their scales and horns. Not enough for armour. Which meant that he’d have to get more. 

“I’m gonna go fight a dragon.” Link declared, anticipation singing through his body. 

“Link? Is everything okay?” Zelda looked worried as she peered into his face. “You’ve kind of got your crazy eyes on.”

He just grinned at her. 

“Okay then.” Zelda sighed and shook her head. He knew that he worried her, that before the Calamity he’d been raised to be a knight, with all the genteel manners and stuff, but he didn’t remember any of that. 

And really, it sounded completely boring and dull. He liked who he was now, he couldn’t go back to whatever he’d been before. Zelda had accepted that, but she still fussed at him. It was kind of... nice, in a strange way. 

She kissed him on the cheek. “Go do your thing. Try not to come back all bloody.” 

He appreciated the fact that she never referred to the castle as his home. It was hers, certainly. And while he didn’t mind staying here, it didn’t feel like home to him. 

His heart called him elsewhere. 

‘No promises.’ He agreed, kissing her cheek as well. Her kisses weren’t like Sidon’s. Still sweet, in a different way. Softer, for one thing. And not as varied, she liked to kiss and be kissed mostly on the cheek.

He liked Sidon’s kisses better. The feeling of rough scales on skin was more welcoming to him than that of soft Hylian skin. Kissing Zelda didn’t leave his heart fluttering and skin tingling and wanting more. +++ The dragon scales were too large and unwieldy to just make into armour. Especially for someone who was as streamlined as Sidon. Cutting them down with normal tools didn’t work, they shattered swords and shears alike. The only thing that seemed to be able to cut dragon scale was dragon scale itself. Link growled to himself, realising that this meant he needed to get more scales, some for the armour, some to use as tools. Which meant more time away from Sidon. He sighed. He could do it. +++ ‘Think it’ll work?’ Link signed, as Bazz looked contemplative, looking over the scales Link had harvested and started to cut into shapes based off the books and patterns he’d found. 

“It should.” He agreed. “My biggest concern is what are you going to attach it to? You’re going for shock resistance, so metal is out, which means some sort of really heavy duty hide or cloth. If you use leather, you could boil it, making it harder and shape it, but I don’t know what would be thick enough.”

That was a problem. Monster hide might work, but he’d killed most of those. 

And he wanted something for the shock resistance too. It was kind of worrisome that Zora couldn’t even touch shock arrows, leading Link having to collect them from the Lynel....

Link paused, looking up towards the tip of Shatterback Point. ‘Be right back.’ He signed, and took off running. 

“Wait! No!” Bazz hissed. “Link! He’ll kill me if you come back dead!” 

Link laughed as he jumped off a balcony, his hang-glider snapping open and catching the ocean breeze. The breeze wasn’t strong enough to get him all the way to the top, but it’d get him part way there. 

+++

A few hours later, Link pulled the fresh Lynel hide out of his pack and set it in front of Bazz. ‘Think it’ll work?’

Bazz made a sound like he couldn’t decide if he was laughing or crying. “You’re certifiably nuts.” He said, shaking his head. “The two of you deserve each other. Yeah, I think that’ll work.” 

Link tilted his head to the side, wondering what Bazz meant by that. 

“We’ll have to sit down sometime with a pint or two and I’ll tell you some of the things our Prince has gotten up to in the past.” Bazz grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “You heard about him being eaten by the Octorok and going up against Vah Ruta on his own? That’s nothing.” 

Link grinned. He knew he liked Sidon for a reason. +++

“Link, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your new habit of carving dragon scales during meetings.” Zelda’s lips pressed together in a disapproving line. “It’s scaring some of the Council.”

Link grimaced. It was about the only time that he sat still long enough to get any carving done, he was constantly interrupted otherwise. ‘You want me to stop?’ He offered. He’d just have to figure something else out. 

“Oh good heavens, no!” She beamed at him. “Could you please sit next to Councillor Tyrol? We might be able to get some work done if he stops sharing his ‘hunting’ stories. He’s quite terrified of you, you know.”

+++ Zelda glanced around before tugging on Link’s arm and pulling him closer. She had a mischievous curve to her lips and he leaned in so no one else could overhear what she was saying. “Some of the Council thinks you’re dating a Gerudo woman.” She whispered, then covered her mouth with a hand to contain her laughter. 

It made a certain amount of sense, he was in Gerudo town a lot. … He also wore the clothing a lot while coming back. Did they think that he was dating himself? Or someone else? He paused, eyes narrowing as he remembered the inquires to the Gerudo Chieftain's health. “Riju’s twelve.” He deadpanned. She may have been the steadfast leader of the fierce Gerudo, but she was also a kid who loved soft plushies, especially those of Sand Seals. 

Zelda nodded with barely repressed glee. “I know that and you know that, but how many people here do you think have meet a real Gerudo in their lives? Much less know who the Gerudo chief is?” 

That was a good point. They should probably fix that, get more of all the various tribes together more often. ‘Should I start mentioning Isha more?’ He offered. 

She thought about it, then giggled. “You should invite her to the castle as a merchant.” Zelda grinned. “Plus, I’d like to meet her.”

+++ ‘You need a break.’ Link signed with a frown as he looked Zelda over. She looked kind of like she wanted to punch something then take a nap. “I can’t.” Zelda closed her eyes, looking frustrated. “There’s no where in the castle I can go that someone won’t find me with some sort of emergency. I feel like all I’m doing is putting out fires.” 

Link pulled out a bomb and offered it to her. She stared at it for a moment, which he was starting to think was the default reaction to being offered a bomb. Although it wasn’t like he offered them to just anyone, but Sidon always looked so surprised and confused by the bombs. 

Zelda looked like she was contemplating using it. 

“No.” She shook her head, pushing the bomb away. “Thank you, but no. That’d just undo all the hard work we just finished constructing.” Which was a pretty good point. With a shrug, he put it away again. A thought hit, and he looked her up and down, silently measuring her with his eyes, a smirk growing.

“Link.” Zelda crossed her arms, turning her body away, looking uncomfortable ‘We’re almost the same height and size.’ Link grinned at her. He was a little broader in the shoulder, she a bit broader in the hip, but still about the same proportions. Well, given his lack of height.

“And?” Link bounced a little on the balls of his feet, feeling pleased with himself. ‘That means you should fit my clothes.’ He explained. ‘And I should fit yours.’ She stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape. “There’s no way it’d work. I mean, you don’t talk, that’s easy for me to mimic, but the ruse would be over as soon as you opened your mouth.” 

That was easy enough too. He held up a finger, silently motioning for patience, then rubbed his nose vigorously, until it was red, then coughed a couple of times. “I’m sick.” He rasped, trying to pitch his voice slightly higher. “I need to stay in bed.” 

Then he fluttered his eyelashes at her and grinned. 

Zelda gaped at him. “No.” She said, then immediately wavered. “I mean. No. It couldn’t possibly work.” He shrugged. ‘I need to finish carving some scales, I could do that while you go on a ride, get some fresh air. Wear the champion tunic, everything'll run as soon as they see you coming.’

Link could see her visibly waver. “Oh.” She glared at him, stamping her foot in irritation. “This is a horrible idea. Give me your tunic.” Link grinned and tapped the Sheikah Slate, switching clothing until he was wearing the Champion’s Tunic, pulling it off over his head and tossed it to her. Zelda wrinkled her nose, holding it away from her face.  “When was the last time you washed this?” He gave her a puzzled look back. He never washed any of his clothes, any rips, tears, burns, or other assorted damage were gone whenever he dismissed them and put them back on. “Nevermind.” She shook her head, pulling the tunic on. It was a little big on her in the shoulders, but nothing too obvious. He pulled off his pants and handed them to her as well, before wandering over to her wardrobe and sorting through it before finding a long nightgown, pulling that over his head. This method of getting dressed was such a hassle, it was so much easier to get dressed via the Sheikah Slate. Less fabric to get tangled up in. “You’re hopeless.” Zelda informed him sounding amused and fond as he felt hands tug the fabric down over him. He gestured his thanks, smiling a bit to see her in his clothing. It was kind of strange, seeing her dressed like this. He reached up, undoing the pins in her hair, fingers quickly undoing the braids and messing up her sleek smooth strands. He could never get his hair nearly as soft and nice. The thought of if Sidon liked his hair, so different than the Zora’s scaled flickered through his mind, then he dismissed it. He was pretty sure that Sidon liked him, scales or no scales. Pretty sure. “Gah.” Zelda batted his hands away, stepping backwards out of reach before moving towards her vanity, checking her hair in the mirror. She made a face at seeing it so disordered, then grabbed a tie, pulling it back in a messy pony tail, then teasing the hair out on the sides of her face a bit. “What do you think?” She asked, looking up at him. Link walked over so they could see each other in the mirror. They looked disturbingly alike. They could almost be siblings, possibly even twins. He nodded, and she echoed the movement. “Okay.” She agreed. “This’ll work.” He gave her a thumbs up. +++ A knock on the door interrupted Link’s concentration and he growled in annoyance. He stood up, detouring long enough to grab a blanket from Zelda’s bed and tossed it over his head, wrapping it around himself like a cocoon before opening the door. “What?” He snapped, his voice low and rough. “n-Never mind.” Councillor Tyrol scurried off. Link huffed, shutting the door with a slam and went back to making smaller scales out of larger scales for armour. +++ “Got any clothing in red?” Bazz inquired, idly twirling his trident in one hand. It immediately put Link on edge, because there was something a little too casual sounding to the warrior’s tone. 

‘No.’ Link signed, confused. Almost all of his clothing was blue, unless he took the time to dye it. ‘Why?’ “Could you get some?” Bazz asked. Link shrugged. He didn’t have any at hand, but it’d be easy enough to swing by the Hateno Village and talk to Sayge at the Kochi Dye Shop. He could spare five rupees for payment, and a few extra apples or spicy peppers he could use for red dye. ‘Yeah. Why?’ 

“The next time you come to see the Prince, you should wear something red.” 

This was starting to sound really suspicious. ‘Anything specific I should wear?’ 

“Doesn’t matter. Just something bright red.” Bazz shook his head. “As a favour to me?” He asked, attempting to look as sweet and innocent as a kitten. It didn’t quite work.

Link did kind of owe Bazz for his help in making the armour, making sure it’d fit the prince and keeping it a secret from Sidon. “Okay.” He agreed. It was easy enough. 

“Thanks.” Bazz gave him a bright grin, full of razor sharp teeth and Link wondered just what he’d gotten himself into. 

++++

“Link! My Dear!” Link had just enough warning to brace himself before he was picked up and pressed against Sidon’s ginormous chest. “It is such a pleasure to see you!”

“Sidon!” Link wrapped his arms around Sidon, pressing as close as he could. Sidon smelled like he usually did, water and musk, something always made Link relax. 

It meant safety, comfort, and laughter.

He kissed the nearest part of Sidon he could reach, his jaw just below the fin that framed his face and felt a small shiver run down Sidon’s frame. 

Sidon eased his grip slightly, pulling back so he could look Link over. “It’s so good to see you healthy. No new scars?” 

Link smiled and shook his head. Sidon beamed in delight, taking Link’s hand and kissing the palm. “I’m glad.” 

Seriously, Sidon was the only person who worried if Link could take care of himself. Well, maybe other than Zelda, but she was more likely to laugh at him for it. 

“Is this new?” Sidon asked, peering at Link’s shirt. It was just a basic tunic, but he’d dyed it the bright red of fresh chillies, as Bazz had requested. 

Link shrugged. Honestly, he couldn’t remember where he’d picked the shirt up from. 

“I like it!” Sidon beamed at him, and Link wondered how he could contain such joy in his face. “We match!” 

… They did. He looked at the shirt against Sidon’s scales and realised that they did, the dye almost the same colour as Sidon. Anyone seeing them together would probably assume they were a matched set. 

He didn’t know whether to be grateful or to strangle Bazz for his meddling, when Sidon barely set him down for the remainder of the day, almost always keeping in contact with Link. He also made a note to wear more red, if this was Sidon’s reaction. 

-fin- -And that’s all folks.

[s0lam33y]

Nonsense

A/N : i haven’t written in ages, Ik Ik 😭 i have so many WIPS that I’m not satisfied with and this has been sitting in my drafts for ages.

mechanic! riri x reader

🔧: @pvnks0ul @kissvamps @ririshotgf

“Ion know what her problem is anyway.” Riri sighs . She just finished giving you all the details of her dad’s side of the family. More specifically, Her cousin, Gina who is especially messy and the two of you couldn’t make it to Chicago this year to watch her and her husband argue like they do every year. He’s an absolute sweetheart and she still manages to give him a hard time.

“You think that could ever be us?” You ask Riri as you watch her move around the garage. She doesn’t spare a glance at you while she looks into her toolbox. The two of you are freshly married, having dated for four years before tying the knot. In the past 6 months of your marriage, you'd say that things have barely changed. It feels the same as when you were dating.

She looks too good, her jumpsuit zipped half way and The top half of it dropped at her hips. Her hands are covered in motor oil, her bicep muscles clenching and unclenching as she digs through the toolbox.

You decided to stop by, offer her a cherry coke while she works. You take your place in the corner of the garage, sitting on a bean bag as you watch her.

“Hell no.” She chuckles, grabbing a wrench from her toolbox and placing it in one of the deep pockets of her Navy blue jumpsuit. You've always loved watching her work, whether it's her screwing metal together for a better suit or this, watching her work on cars.

“We ain’t like Gina and her man. We like you and me, and we don’t argue like that. I’ve never yelled at you the way she be in that man’s ear.” Riri says with a small laugh. You watch her wipe the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand since the front of it is slathered in motor oil.

She’s not wrong. You two have had your disagreements but Riri’s never been one to yell, however you’ve watched her hold back. You on the other hand…It’s a different story but it’s still a work in progress, nothing she can’t handle.

“She gives him a hard time.” You sigh, a small amount of guilt making it’s way to your chest as you think of the couple. He always looks so miserable.

“Maybe, maybe not, maybe he’s a dick in secret.” Riri shrugs. She doesn’t speak of her Dad often let alone his side of the family and when you do see them, they’re either arguing or gossiping about something.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t think she yellin’ for no reason, baby. Maybe he did something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.” She states, a little amused now as she thinks of a multitude of reasons as to why that man is constantly getting scolded.

“It’s not funny.” You scold which only makes her laugh a little harder. She looks at you only to approach you and sit beside you. There’s barely any space for both of you on a singular bean bag so she lifts hooks her arms beneath your knees and back to place you on her lap.

“Tell me, that shit ain’t funny, They was arguing over mowing the lawn.” She grins as she takes a sip of glass of coke you had bright over for her. As much as she says she hates the gossip, she’s always been one to find it entertaining.

“All I’m saying is it’s a bit sad, don’t you think?” You sigh. They’ve been married for years and you can’t help but wonder if they’ve grown tired of each other, rather if you would ever be in that position.

“A little, but I ain’t arguing over some stupid shit like mowing the lawn.” She huffs while glancing at you. She looks to the side, wondering if you’ve zoned out or not.

“What I say?”

You both burst into laughter soon after, you could never get tired of her.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

If Only You could Look into my Eyes and See that I Still Love You

Burnout is KICKING MY ASS so have a oneshot I wrote before I completely ran out of ideas while I try to finish my WIPs (I promise they’ll be out soon!!)

Warning: it’s a post prank oneshot

Remus stirred slowly, feeling like he’d clawed his way up from the depths of an ocean, rather than a shallow dive that his unconsciousness usually left him with. He leaves his eyes shut for a moment, taking in the hospital wing around him for a moment. Something felt… off.

The first thing he noticed was Sirius’ absence.

He could always feel Sirius’ presence, especially straight after a full moon, and he was always there. Never missed a moon. With a swirl of dread, he realised what that meant. Something had gone seriously wrong.

The second thing he noticed was that he was in pain.

Everything in him was aching more than normal, his head pounding, a lot of new slashes stinging his body, and his leg feeling a lot like it did when Poppy had healed a broken bone, even though it had been a while since he’d felt that, the only description being nostalgic. Not a pleasant nostalgia, but nostalgia all the same.

The panic that the unfamiliar pain brought him was enough for him to fling his eyes open, going to sit straight up and immediately regretting it. Almost instantly, a hand reached out and pressed against his chest, pushing him back down slowly. Remus turned to find James and Peter sat there, James having stood up to help Remus sit slower. James adjusted the pillows carefully, letting Remus rest against them and sitting back down.

“Careful, Moony. Gave us a scare.” James said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It threw Remus off a little, concerning him. If James couldn’t hide something then it was big. It was bad.

Shit.

Remus glanced between the two of them carefully.

“Something happened last night, didn’t it?” He asked, Peter shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat as James’ smile died. Okay, he was right, that’s one thing. It only increased the sense of dread deep in his stomach. Not having any memory of the moons only made his own concern worse, that small reminder that he was dangerous gnawing at him. “Did anyone get hurt?” His voice was filled with concern, he couldn’t hold it back as his mind ran through every scenario under the sun.

“…you.” James said, almost like it should have been obvious, and Remus bit back an eye roll.

“Other than me.” James shook his head, and Remus felt himself breathing a little easier.

“Not in the end, no.”

In the end? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“Well then… what happened? And where’s Sirius?” James’ brow furrowed further, and Remus wanted to be swallowed whole. He was in pain and tired, and they weren’t just coming out and telling him what happened.

“It’s, uh… it’s actually about Sirius. He- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” James said, eyes sliding shut as he took a deep, shaking breath. “He told Snape. About the Whomping Willow. Snape, he- he went down there and, well… Snape knows.” James spoke in a rush, and Remus could feel his heart drop further and further into his stomach, through his legs, almost to his feet, icy cold shock slowly spreading down over him.

No.

No, there was no way.

Of all of the many, many scenarios running through his mind, none of them involved Sirius doing anything to hurt him, because he wouldn’t.

James was watching Remus’ frown deepen, and Remus had never seen James at a loss for words before. Remus had so many questions, but thankfully, Peter stepped in, getting through the rest of it.

“James stopped him, and got him straight to Dumbledore. I’ve got no fucking clue what Dumbledore said to him, but he’s not going to tell anyone, so you’re not expelled. Sirius is with Professor McGonnagal and Dumbledore now.”

“I told them to boot him off the Quidditch team.” James said, fists clenching. “He’s not coming back, not after that.”

“I- no, he- he wouldn’t, Sirius wouldn’t.” It was the first thing Remus could think to say, because he just wouldn’t. Not Sirius.

Not when they had just started to really define what they were. After months of stolen glances, of stolen touches. After that kiss on the astronomy tower. After Remus had finally confessed that he had feelings for Sirius, and Sirius had said he did too. After everything, he wouldn’t turn around and betray him. It wasn’t possible.

“Did they- is Sirius expelled? What about- they can’t send him back to his family, right?” It wasn’t a question Remus had expected to ask, but it happened. He couldn’t stop himself from asking it. James shrugged.

“I don’t think they are expelling him, no.”

“Right, okay, yeah. That’s good.” Because he hadn’t done anything, he’d never. Even if he had, which he hadn’t, nobody deserved the family Sirius had.

“I- Moony, are you alright?” James whispered, as Remus seemed to reach a conclusion. It couldn’t be happening. With that, he went to get up, ignoring the stabbing pain in his hip as both James and Peter stood to stop him. “Hey, hey hey, you need to rest, lay back down.” James wasn’t advising, he was telling, but Remus wouldn’t listen.

“No, I- I need to hear this from him, let me-“

“Remus, Peter was the only one there last night, okay? You’re really hurt. If Madame Pomfrey sees you trying to leave-“

“Remus John Lupin, what on earth are you doing?” Too late. Poppy marched over to him, hands on her hips. “You are going to get back into that bed and you are going to sleep. If you’re well enough, you can leave later.”

“No, Poppy, please, you don’t- I need to see Sirius.” Her face softened considerably, then, walking over to him, grabbing both of his arms and gently pushing him into the bed. He couldn’t fight her, he never could.

“I know what happened, lovely, but you need rest. I can’t let you go now, not in good conscience. Professor McGonnagal will sort everything out, just focus on yourself for a while, okay?” Remus wanted to scream. Seeing Sirius was focusing on himself, because he didn’t believe it. He wanted Sirius to walk in and say everything was just some big misunderstanding, but if he couldn’t have that, he needed to find him. Poppy shoved a potion into his hand. “Drink this.” The command was back, and Remus wanted to argue, but he didn’t have the energy. Just trying to get out of the bed was draining, and while the adrenaline was enough to keep him awake, it wasn’t enough for him to disobey. He glanced at the potion. Sleeping. Maybe if he drank it, let himself be dragged into a hazy unconsciousness, then everything would be fine when he woke up. Sirius would be there, and everything would be okay.

-

It took hours for him to drift back from his deep sleep, already feeling better than he had the first time. For a few moments he remained blissfully unaware of everything that had happened, letting himself wake up slowly. Until everything that James and Peter had said sunk in for the second time, and the same cold trickle of shock started at his head and slowly travelled down the back of his neck and his spine. He felt like he wasn’t in his own body, then, refusing to process fully. Not until he had spoken to Sirius.

Once he had forced his eyes open and propped himself up in his bed, James and Peter no longer sat beside him, Poppy walked over.

“Remus. I would keep you here overnight, but due to the… circumstances, if you’re feeling alright, you can leave. If you’d like to.” She added onto the end.

Part of Remus really didn’t want to. Part of him wanted to stay in his bubble of uncertainty, where he could convince himself that it wasn’t true, it didn’t happen. Still, his anxiety kept getting worse, growing every second, and he knew that another part of him, a much bigger part, wanted to get out of the wing, march right up to Sirius and have him scrunch up his nose in that way of his and say of course it isn’t true, he would never do that to him, especially not now.

Despite the sinking feeling that was convincing him that he wasn’t going to hear that, he settled on that option, swinging his legs out of the bed and going to get changed out of the hospital gown. Poppy left, shutting the curtains behind her and leaving Remus to his thoughts. James wasn’t one to lie, especially not about something like that, and they both seemed particularly distraught, but Remus couldn’t even imagine what he would do if Sirius nodded, said he did it. Something had happened, and Snape knew. He knew. Remus just needed to know how, and for Sirius not to be the one who told him.

With that, Remus shoved the curtains open, waved to Madame Pomfrey and left the hospital wing, walking quickly to the dorm. If Sirius wasn’t there, the map would be. He would find Sirius if it killed him.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long. The moment he had started up the stairs to get to Gryffindor Common Room, James and Peter must have spotted him, catching up quickly.

“Moony, did Madame Pomfrey already let you go?”

“Yeah. Need to talk to Sirius.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea right now, he’s-“

“I need to.” James and Peter exchanged an uncomfortable glance, clearly expecting carnage, but Remus wasn’t. Remus was expecting Sirius to reassure him, because what else could he do?

“Right, okay.” Peter agreed, James nodding. That didn’t seem to defer them from following him there, though. They followed him through the portrait hole, following a chastising from the fat lady, and up to the dorm. “He’s in there-“

“Saves me some time, then.” Remus answered simply, shoving the door open and freezing almost as soon as he got inside. Sirius was sat on his bed, jumping a mile at the sound of the door and immediately standing. His eyes widened at the sight of Remus.

“Moony! You- I thought you’d be in the hospital wing for longer. Are you- are you okay?” Remus took a moment to just watch him.

Sirius was playing with his hands, fidgeting awkwardly, nervous. His eyes were red, pretty puffy, he’d clearly been crying, even as he tried to act like he hadn’t, causing a slightly painful tug in Remus’ heart, and he was more closed off than normal. It was enough for the dread that Remus had been trying his best to ignore to grow ever so slightly. He could see James glaring at Sirius from the corner of his eye, and Remus had to say something then.

“You-“ His voice cracked, and he was stunned by how stressed he sounded. He felt more together than he sounded, because he was so sure that Sirius hadn’t done it. Of course he hadn’t. “You didn’t actually tell him, did you?”

The silence was deafening.

Remus watched Sirius swallow slowly, eyes darting over Remus’ face and just missing meeting Remus’ eye. Remus’ own eyes flicked down to Sirius’ hands, only to find that they were shaking, and when he glanced back up there were tears in Sirius’ eyes.

“Moony, listen. It was- I didn’t mean- he-“

“Did you- did you tell him or not?” Remus snapped, arms folding to hide the fact that he felt like he was going to fall apart. Sirius fixed his gaze to the floor and nodded once, almost invisibly.

That one small gesture was enough to tear Remus’ world down.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, and suddenly Remus couldn’t breathe. It was like someone had taken his entire foundation, the only sense of safety he had, the only thing he was ever sure in, and turned it on its head, taken it away from him, some cruel, cruel joke designed for the sake of his suffering.

Fuck.

He felt sick. He wanted to pass out, everything in him starting to tingle, head spinning as the lights became too bright and his own breathing became too loud. His ears were ringing, everything in him protesting and protesting, because it was Sirius. Not Sirius.

Fuck.

Sirius had done the one thing Remus had never thought he would do. He had taken the part of Remus, something that he was inevitably tied to for eternity, and instead of holding it close, he had handed the secret straight to the one person who wanted him gone. Almost fucking killed him in the process. Never in Remus’ life could he have expected Sirius to weaponise the thing Remus had expected him to protect. He fucking tore himself apart every month, and instead of seeing it as something to resolve, Sirius saw it as something to use. To twist and manipulate and use to his advantage, to get payback on someone.

Remus felt his hands start to shake, but he really wasn’t sure whether it was anger or sadness, whether he was going to scream or cry.

The answer seemed to be neither, then.

“I- christ, I’m going- shit.” He breathed, turning and leaving quickly. James and Peter went to follow him, but Remus didn’t want to be followed. It was like he was being suffocated. He slammed the door behind him, everything inside him bubbling until he didn’t know what to do with it. It was like he was going to burst, the gravity of everything falling on him.

He couldn’t go back to the dorm, the common room was too public, he had no clue where to go. So he just… walked. Trying to somehow walk everything out of him, looking for somewhere he couldn’t be followed.

Stumbling across the room of requirement was an accident. The perfect accident, though, because he could ask for whatever he wanted.

He paced in front of it quickly, asking the same thing and hoping that nobody was going to catch up to him while he did so.

‘I need a place the marauders can’t get to.’

In a matter of seconds, a door was standing in place of the blank wall, and Remus shoved it open quickly, slamming it shut behind him and feeling comforted by the knowledge that he would be able to process on his own.

The room was vast and airy, with a sofa pressed against the wall and a chest directly beside it. Okay, cold air, that was helping a little, as he paced quickly, trying to figure out what the fuck he was feeling.

Besides the fact that anger, resentment and shock were balling up inside him, and he could feel the denial slowly melting away to make place for sadness, there was something else rearing it’s ugly head that Remus really didn’t want to think about. A small voice telling him that he should have seen it coming, that he was so caught up in his feelings that Sirius probably didn’t even reciprocate that he couldn’t see the part of Sirius that was fully prepared to turn around and stab him in the back.

Christ, he felt sick. So fucking sick, he needed more air, he was being smothered by-

“Moony?”

Shit.

James.

He tried the door handle, which thankfully didn’t let him in. Good old room of requirement.

“Did he lock it?” Peter’s voice rang out quietly, and Remus shook his hands, trying to get some of the agitation out of his system so he didn’t scream.

Fuck it.

He threw a silencing charm over the space and let himself go, feeling everything raise inside him and release in a guttural scream, eyes screwed shut. It was actually happening, it was real. Silence settled back over the space, Remus lifting the silencing charm quickly, feeling the weight of the charm lift, back into the light airy space it had been before.

That’s was when he heard Lily.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is Remus in there?” Fuck, he didn’t think about Lily, she could probably get through the door.

“How did you…?” James started, and Remus could almost feel Lily rolling her eyes.

“Remus came storming out of the boys dorms and out the common room and you lot came running after with the map in your hands, so I figured something was wrong. Just followed you.” She answered casually, before raising her voice just a little for Remus’ benefit. “Remus, can I come in? Listen, I have no clue what’s going on, but you seemed really upset, and I don’t know that you should be alone. I won’t speak if you don’t want me to, just… don’t isolate yourself? Yeah?”

Something in Remus knew that the door would open for her, and he also knew that she was right, unfortunately.

“S’open.” Remus called half heartedly. “Just for you, though.” He couldn’t talk to James and Peter about any of it. Not yet.

The door clicked open gently, Remus bouncing on his heels when she walked in. She smiled tentatively at him, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey.” Remus watched her move to the sofa, dropping down on it and keeping her eyes on him.

“Hi.” He didn’t stop his pacing, and she didn’t speak for a while as she let him move around the room until his hip physically wouldn’t let him anymore. He felt it twinge, pausing and pressing his hand against the wall. Without missing a beat, Lily was at his side and helping him get to the sofa, the two of them sitting side by side in silence.

Remus could feel himself losing his composure more and more every second, and as Lily wrapped an arm around his shoulder he crumbled. The tears came before he knew what had happened, breaking down into deep, heavy sobs. It had clearly quite thrown Lily, but she didn’t hesitate in gently moving her hand up and down Remus’ arm, letting him lean and rest his head against hers, unable to stop the flow of crying that had started.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re alright.” Lily murmured, just letting him cry until he couldn’t cry anymore. It was slightly cathartic, letting him mourn the fact that his friend, his best friend, the first person he’d ever loved had taken his biggest secret and used it for his advantage. A secret Lily didn’t know.

Fuck it. If Snape knew, then Remus had to tell Lily before he got to her.

The moment his ragged breathing had slowed and he could get words out, he decided that there was no time like the present. If she ran, then she ran, and there was nothing he could do about it. He’d already lost Sirius, he would rather lose Lily on his terms than on Severus’.

“Lils, I-“ he pulled away and glanced at her. “Have you talked to Sni- Severus, today?” She frowned and shook her head.

“Haven’t properly spoken to him in a while. Why?”

“He might- he probably will tell you something, soon, but I just- I want you to hear it from me.”

“Remus, what is it?” She asked, brow furrowing in concern as her open green eyes searched his amber ones.

“You can’t tell anyone, okay? And- and everything’s safe. 100% safe.” With that, he took a deep breath and tried to make sure he could actually get the words out. “I’m- I’ve got lycanthropy. I’m a werewolf.” He watched as her eyes widened, and he waited for her to up and leave, expecting disgust to flit across her face. Instead, her gaze became determined, and she nodded.

“I won’t tell a soul.” She promised, and Remus felt himself fall apart again, knowing that she was a safe place for him. That meant he could tell her the rest.

“Sirius- Sirius told Snape, he- he fucking-just when I thought he-“ Remus got out through stuttered breaths, and he felt Lily stiffen a little.

“I’m so sorry, Remus. You don’t deserve that.” She murmured, with only made Remus cry harder, the one thought he had been ignoring circling through his mind over and over, repeating with every beat of his heart.

I love him.

[graceshouldwrite]

How to Finish Your 1st Draft (underrated tips!)

instagram: @ grace_should_write

Hey y’all :) Thought I’d revisit this topic because I have been writing later drafts and revision for the last 2 years—the last time I first-drafted was literally in 2020. I started first-drafting again late last year, and am still doing so this year. 

I’m still rediscovering my plotting/plantsing process, and thought that a refresher would help me, too. I hope you find this post somewhat useful (and that these tips aren’t just for delusional people like me)!

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

1. Find your dedication

The dedication is so, SO underrated—many people think of it as just something you slap on after you’re finished the book, but I like to see it as also one more reason why you’re writing it. 

Maybe you wrote a book featuring a found family group of kids from slums because you yourself grew up in those conditions, or you know/sympathize with people who did. Making sure that readers facing a similar situation will feel uplifted when they experience your book could be something that motivates you to finish. 

For example, my working dedication for my current WIP goes something like this:

To anyone who has yearned for more and failed—all the part-idealist, part-pragmatist, ambitious, “average” kids who will “never amount to anything more,” I’m betting on you. Keep burning those dreams for fuel.  Cling onto them whenever you feel like you will become anything but great. Until you stop betting on yourself, it’s not over. 

As someone whose often struggled to fulfil my own visions, despite having a grand plan for my own future, I—like anyone else—have encountered lots of obstacles and learned to survive on my own. We’ve all learned resilience. 

This dedication reminds me who I’m writing for: myself, and anyone else who identifies with it. I hope that my book can inspire readers on the cusp of giving up. I hope this book can provide readers on their sigma male grindset with a thrilling rush that spurs them on even more. 

Whenever I feel unmotivated, this is where I go. And, for the most part, it works! 

(Of course, you can treat your dedication as a “work” of its own. Feel free to keep revising it and editing it until you’re happy with it)

2. Look at fan art

It can’t just be me who looks at fan art and gets inspired by specific poses or scenes and then adds those scenes into my book. Come on. 

Pretty straightforward. Just search up “fan art for _____,” fan art for a specific fandom you’re into, or even “character scene/pose ideas” on Google or Pinterest. 

Personally, I like doing this more than browsing those “book idea” posts that are followed with actual text explaining the idea—looking at art with little to no text can force you to do the work in describing the scene, pose, or character expression. 

These scenes tend to help you be specific, creating memorable scenes for your readers. Examples of inspiration I’ve taken from fanart is: 

A firework kiss scene

“I got your back!” type trope, where two or more characters fight back to back. IN THE RAIN! 

Gunfights! 

One character running away while slinging the other across their shoulder

Characters having fun at a festival while wearing flower garlands 

When you’re writing, this can motivate you to get to X scene faster, or to finish your book faster so readers can see your characters doing X thing. At least, works for me! 

3. Find ONE specific writing buddy 

Yes, the writing community is GREAT. But, it can feel a bit detached if you’re always only sharing progress with your large group of followers, instead of someone who knows your WIP inside out. 

Find one person or a small group of specific people. Tell each other EVERYTHING about your WIPs. This will feel a lot more personal, and specificity can also help you finish your book faster when they tell you to “finish writing this chapter to get to this scene!”, or when they hold you accountable to a group writing goal. 

You can also all form a group chat with daily progress motivation and trackers. Personally, NaNoWriMo forums are great for finding people to just overshare your WIP with and motivate each other. 

This way, you guys could also peer review your works periodically. Having another set of eyes on your draft—even when it’s not finished—could give you lots of ideas and guidance on plot direction, characterization, prose, etc.

4. Braindump while listening to a song / playlist

Write to the vibes. Literally just that. 

Are there any songs/playlists that really resonate with you or your WIP? Just play it, maybe even on loop, and type ANY ideas from prose to dialogue to scene ideas and themes. 

It could literally just look something like this (there is some purposefully bad writing just for this example): 

Listening to: [title of your song or playlist]

A: Never thought I’d see you again. B: I know you missed me. *sneer* (Dialogue snippet)

omg they bump into each other on the street and she spills her beer on him and her best friend senses the chemistry (Scene idea)

rivals to lovers (Trope idea)

SILK DRESS. FANCY CLOTHES. YES. (Character design idea) 

overcoming your greatest fear!!!!! (Theme idea)

It’s that easy. You got this, soldier. 

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

I HOPE THIS HELPED ANYONE!!! Writing this definitely helped me LOL

Let me know if you have any questions through responses, re-blogging, or DMing me at @ grace_should_write on IG.  

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

[bechloeislegit]

20 Questions Game

This seemed like it might be fun to do. So, here’s my responses. I was tagged by @ridiculously-over-obsessed

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

AO3 says I have 113 Works (many of which I migrated over from FanFiction.net since that was the first site I posted on).

2. Total AO3 word count

1,866,264 (Can this be right?)

3. Fandoms you write for

I write solely for Pitch Perfect 

4. Top 5 fics by kudos -

Love at First Bite: A Pitch Perfect Story - A vampire AU fic; cowritten with RJRMovieFan.

Pitch Perfect 3: BeChloe Is Legit! - Pitch Perfect 3, written as we believe it should have been and could have been if the filmmakers were a little more visionary; cowritten with RJRMovieFan.

Skyping While Sleeping - Summary: A one-shot based on a post/prompt from Tumblr User @ladygaybeale. Beca is on tour and Skypes Chloe. Chloe thinks Beca is asleep and tells Beca her deepest regret.

Stronger - Summary: Beca and Chloe meet before Beca starts at Barden University and become fast friends. Chloe is a Senior and had a terrifying experience when she was home for the summer. The two are drawn to each other, but is Beca biting off more than she can chew in wanting to be more than just a friend to Chloe? Rated M for language. Warning: Mentions of anxiety attacks and assault (not sexual).)

BeChloe Week 2019 - Summary: 8 BeChloe One-shots based on prompts submitted by Tumblr users.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes. I’m sure I’ve missed some, but I do try to respond to them all.

6. Fic w/Angstiest Ending.

I think I’d have to say, “Chloe Effed Up.” It’s the only fic I’ve written where Beca and Chloe do not end up together.

7. Happiest ending? 

I am known for happy, fluffy stories, so I can’t pick which of my fics would have the happiest ending. (I do love writing an Epilogue and will (almost) always find a way to have a happy ending.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None that I can recall.

9. Do you write smut/what kind?

Not usually; I have written some light smut when I felt it added something to the story (or I got badgered enough and added some to keep readers happy; giving into peer pressure is not usually my forte, but I can be persuaded every once in a while).

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven’t, but I have used characters from Grey’s Anatomy more than once. 

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Yes.

12. Ever had a fic translated?

Not that I’m aware of.

13. Ever cowritten a fic?

Yes, several, actually.

14. Favorite ship?

For writing, all Bechloe, all the time. Also, Staubrey. And, I don’t write them, but I have grown a bit fond of Junksen (and I did write a Christmas one-shot where Aubrey and Emily were together).

15. A WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Nothing that’s been posted. (I do have a couple of fics in a Drafts folder that I started because I got an idea and didn’t want to lose it. I may have to revisit that folder and see if there’s anything there worth working on.)

16. Writing strengths?

I finish every fic I start; nothing is left incomplete. I also feel I’m stronger at writing one-shots than multi-chapter fics.

17. Writing weaknesses?

I use dialog to convey the story because I’m not as good at imagery or descriptive narratives.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in a different language?

I haven’t written too much in a different language, only small parts of conversations, and Google Translate may or may not have been involved. If I actually spoke a different language, I would definitely write something in that language.

19. First Fandom you wrote for?

Pitch Perfect. Also, it's the only fandom I’ve written for.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Wow! That’s a loaded question. I don’t really have a favorite, but I do have a few that I really am proud to have written. My top five are (in no particular order):

Beca and Chloe’s Summer Fling My Name is Beca Mitchell What if the World Ended Tomorrow? Chloe Goes On Strike Stronger

There are also a number of one-shots that I would consider faves (I admit I have too many to list).

Tagging: Anyone who reads this and wants to do it.

[fantastic-nonsense]

I've been going through your writing tag and I know you said you don't want to share your Ao3 until you've actually published something for us to read, but I'm obssessed with your writing. is there anything in any one of your WIPs you're willing to share with us while we wait for you to finish them? Maybe one of your Batfam or Six of Crows WIPs?

Anon I've been sitting on this ask for awhile because I didn't know how to properly express my love for it. Thank you so much for your love and support. I know I'm taking a long time to get any of my (several) WIPs done, and I'm super thankful for your patience.

So yes, I will very happily share something from my WIPs. I'll actually even give you a couple, since you asked so nicely. I honestly haven't written much on any of my Batfam fics in the past couple of months (despite my Cass character study fic being mostly done and my Jason and his Many Mothers WIP haunting my dreams) and I don't really want to give too much away on those, so I'll share a couple of snippets from some of my Six of Crows WIPs.

Here's a bit from my Kanej love language WIP, 'to love him is freedom', from the "His Hands" section:

He hesitates, his hands hovering just over the jut of her collarbone. This time, Inej knows that the hesitation is not for his sake, but for hers. She’s oddly moved at even this small consideration. They’ve touched so many times now, and he still hesitates. He so often carries violence in his hands, the weight of it making him pause, but there is no pain to be found in this moment. There's nowhere she’d rather be than here, still and waiting beneath his steady hands. “I’ve survived far worse things than your hands on my body, Kaz,” she murmurs softly, reminding him as she always does that his hands are welcome where others aren’t. His bare hands, gentle but searing on her skin, are a novelty. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to take more than she’s willing to give. His eyes are steady as he carefully cradles her face. She closes her eyes and leans in, tilting her head into the warmth of his palm. She feels held, cradled, protected. There is safety in his hands.

A tiny snippet from a fic I'm working on about how Inej acquired each of her knives called 'To Build a Legend', from a bit about her buying the knife that will become Sankta Anastasia after her first kill:

The knife was plain, unadorned. Simple wooden hilt, simple silver blade. Useful. Practical. Deadly. It will get the job done just as well as any other knife, Inej thought dully as she took it over to the shopkeeper to purchase. She was a killer now, and she needed a killer’s tools to survive. But that didn’t mean she had to take pride in her murder weapons. Murderers didn’t have the right to carry pretty things.

And finally, a bit from the Forced to Choose fic featuring Kaz, Jesper, and a pissed off mercher playing Russian Roulette:

“Any new information coming to mind, Mr. Brekker?” Kaz couldn’t bear to watch, but he wasn’t coward enough to turn away. Jesper had done nothing except volunteer for pain that never should have been his; Kaz owed it to him to stay with him. He watched the blood slowly drip down Jesper’s face and struggled to string together a coherent response. The heartrender, he thought dizzily. Remember the heartrender. He couldn’t lie; de Klerk would know. But he couldn’t tell the truth, either. It would be as good as signing Inej’s death warrant himself. “No,” he finally gasped out, keeping his voice as neutral and firm as he could manage with the shrieking pain radiating down his arm. De Klerk sighed. “A pity.” He looked at Jesper, almost casually tapping the gun against his bruised temple and smiling at his wince. “You’d think he would care more about the people who risked their lives trying to rescue him, wouldn’t you?” Kaz’s heart pounded in his chest as Jesper met de Klerk’s eyes with a determined glare, unwavering and unrepentant. Don’t do it, Jes. Don’t make it worse for yourself. Jesper spat in his face.

[ciaossu-imagines]

I’m so sorry you have to deal with so many annoying customers especially when you’re just trying to do your job! If I could I would personally come and fist fight the especially annoying ones for you 😤

I'm probably a bit late but if it’s still okay I’d love to ask you more prompts! This time I’d like to ask some from the writing talk prompt. So many of these questions were good so I may have sent too many (even when I was holding myself back) but I am super curious to see your answers! (And sorry if I send any you’ve already received!)

1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

15. How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

46. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

- R

Thank you so much for saying that. I do love my job, don’t get me wrong, at least the technical aspects of it and we do have some amazing customers. It’s just that there are a huge percentage of them who really are mostly angry at the insurance companies (and I don’t blame them, honestly I do believe prescriptions should be low-cost or covered by the government as should eye and teeth care, especially since all other medical aspects are covered or mostly covered) but because the workers are right there, they take out all that anger on us, which never sits right with me. But it is what it is, though I sure appreciate you saying you’d fight them for me. Most of them are old, I think you stand a good chance, hahaha! The message did come in late, when I had already went to bed, but you know I’d always answer any of your requests very happily! I hadn’t received any questions from this ask so I was actually kind of really excited to see this ask. I love discussing writing! Thank you so much for asking these 😊

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

It’s not that I really prefer one over the other, to be honest. There are big pros and cons to each, to be honest. One-shots are a lot quicker to write, but I’ve admitted I have issues with bloat as a writer. While the idea might start small, once I actually sit down to write it, I find it grows and gets longer and longer, so keeping one-shots small is sometimes a challenge for me. One-shots also don’t allow you to tell as much of a complete story – I tend to view them more as writing an individual scene within something bigger in my head. Multi-chaptered fics definitely allow you room to write a more complete story. However, multi-chaptered fics demand a lot more of a time investment, something I’m often in short supply of, unfortunately, and especially lately. I also find that I’m more prone to writer’s block when focusing on a multi-chaptered fic or I get bored of the idea and need more frequent breaks. When writing one-shots, I tend to finish them and move onto the next thing (except lately, when I’m adding a paragraph here, a paragraph there to multiple things, because my mind is…exhausted, I guess is the best way to put it). When I have a multi-chaptered fic on the go, I find I need to have several other things on the go, writing wise, or else I burn out and get discouraged. There’s also the fact that I fully admit I’m very motivated by interaction and discussion with my readers. I wish I had more writer friends and more time to talk to the writer friends I have lately, because I find that having a solid group of writers to talk to really also helps to keep me motivated as well. But I really do thrive off of interacting, off of getting stuff out that people can read, and a weird quirk of my OCD mind tells me that I cannot start posting a multi-chaptered fic until it’s at least half-way done, preferably hitting more around 60-70% done. That way, I can consistently put out chapters that have already been written in advance, bit by bit, getting that feeling of interaction and motivation to share without feeling pressured to go crazy and spend every second writing the chapters to ensure there’s not huge wait-times in between chapters, as I always do fear and feel guilty if I think the reader’s are left with huge time lapses in between chapters coming out.  

Ctrl+F ‘blinks’ on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up.

Oh, this was a hard one, as my major two WIP’s at the moment are commissions and I will never share even a sentence of commissions unless the person paying for them explicitly tells me I can. The only non-commissioned work is from a multi-chaptered fic I’m writing, kind of for myself, but also in response to an ask, and it’s largely going to get sent to two people for permission before it ever gets seen by the rest of the readers…I sincerely apologize to those two people and will delete this part of the reply if they end up not wanting any of this seen, as their OC’s make kind of appearances in this story.

“Apple blinked, her eyes having to adjust from the darkness of the corridor as she entered the main deck of the ship. She glanced up at the sky, a bright blue without clouds, the sun bright and high in the sky, her skin feeling it’s warmth despite her just having stepped out. She was tempted to just stay still, to bask in the warmth, the light breeze, the smell of the sea, but the worry in the pit of her stomach made her move, her eyes now scanning around. Her eyes finally lighted on Gokudera, though a look at the pissed-off expression on his face made her hesitate in her way to him. Another quick glance around the deck of the ship showed Des leaning against the rail of the ship, her own gaze fixed on Gokudera, a sad expression on her face. Apple might occasionally do something silly or impulsive that others would call stupid, but her mind was very sharp and she was pretty quick to put the pieces together. Her stomach sunk, that pit of worry seeming to grow heavier. So, there was still no sign of Rena, then.”

How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

Okay, first off, I gotta say – I love writing smut. I have to be in the right mood and headspace for it, but it’s something I absolutely adore writing. As far as how I approach writing it, it really depends on the piece itself. Different pieces demand different approaches – sometimes the scene needs to be softer and less ‘lewdly detailed’, I’d guess is how I put it. It needs to focus on the emotions and the moments between the characters than on what’s happening and the reactions of their bodies. Other pieces demand more ‘lewdly detailed’ writing, more description of the act itself, it needs to feel more raw, needy, charged. Porn without plot tends to be the most descriptive, the most hard-core of the smut writing I do but even then, I would like to believe that I still do kind of build up some sexual tension, some good interaction between the characters. As far as visual…I have a really hard time visualizing things inside my head. It feels more like I can hear the words and see the writing, but I have a hard time picturing things. If I really need a reference, I can usually find a porn scene that has the positioning or a brief little bit of it that will help out. As far as realism goes…I would say that, again, it depends on the scene. If the scene requested or what I have in my head includes kinks that aren’t something that can realistically happen (monster fucking, huge belly bulges, etc), I don’t consider realistic things as much. However, when I’m writing regular smut, without those things, I do like to think that I try my best to always consider realism in the scene. I’ll research, I’ll consider what things would honestly feel like, what would work with body types and preferences characters might have, etc. I feel like it just gives the scene that extra ‘ooomph’ and makes it feel a little more polished overall.

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

First person perspective, one hundred percent. Even when commissioned, I will try to bargain on it. There are very few things, professional or fan-fic, that do first-person perspective well. I read a lot and honestly, there’s maybe five things I can think of that use first person perspective well. It’s not something that I find appealing and I also don’t like writing it because of that distaste towards it.

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

I would like to think that my writing is very character driven because that is what I do aim for. Other than that, it really depends on what I’m writing. Here on the blog, I aim for the posts to feel very organic, natural to the characters, and almost conversational, as I feel it’s more of a conversation between me and the asker instead of me trying to make the asks feel polished, professional, or more academic in nature. With my writing outside of the blog, in terms of stories, I like to aim for character-driven, descriptive writing, stories that help evoke emotions, with moments that feel relatable or hit people in some way.

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Oh, this is a hard one. My favourite’s really change often, and it’s a question that’s been answered a few times. So I’m really going to focus on the second part of the question. I definitely do think that my favourites can be influenced by the reader’s. If I write for a character quite a bit, they get to feel more and more natural to me and I tend to start feeling closer to me, so when there are trends where the asks are for one particular character more than most, despite how I might have originally felt about them, I do find myself liking that character more and more. I also find that if the posts seem to be really well-received, if people enjoy them a lot, I’m able to push aside personal feelings about the character’s more easily to feel motivated to write about that character.

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I like to think that I really put a lot of thought into my writing. I do research whenever needed, I take who a character is into account, I think about the setting itself, the pros and cons of each possible development, etc. I really do try as hard as I can to make sure that when I do write and publish something, it’s as well-thought out and as well-done as I can possibly make it at that moment in time. Is that amount of ‘well-done’ varying from just above crap at my most exhausted to good? Yes. I am the first to admit it. But it’s always the best I can do.

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

There is so, so many things I wish I had the time to write. I’d like to finish the story you saw a blurb of above, there’s a mass KHR crossover in my head, there’s the Tsuyoshi story I want to add more to, there’s the delinquent HOMRA stories, there’s a Servamp story I really am excited to do, and I keep playing around with the idea of making a self-shipping side blog and dabbling around with posting some stories over there for my various self-ships. I think that could possibly be fun. There’s also an old collection of smut I’d like to revamp and post under a new pseudonym.

[three--rings]

I can’t tell you how exciting this is.  My first Real Leather Book!  A fic I’ve had in mind to bind since I first encountered the concept!  And it came out good!

So first, a little about the fic.  It’s The Seduction of the Desert Prince by @killabeezish​ (killa), elynross, and Rachael Sabotini.  It’s a Highlander the Series Duncan Macleod/Methos AU set in the 18th century Arabian desert.  It was first posted in 1997 and finally completed SIXTEEN YEARS LATER in 2014.

I originally read this fic back in the day, when it was unfinished, and was thrilled to discover a few years ago that it had not only been reposted to AO3 but had been completed at long last.  So consider this binding a bit of a love letter to three incredibly influential authors of one of my favorite old fandoms and a thanks for doing the unheard of and returning to actually finish an old WIP.

So, first let’s talk typesetting. 

(So much detail under here you guys.)

This was a really fun project because the text was easy to set and I got to go nuts with illustration.  One of the questions about binding this fic is that the fic includes photo manips of the characters along with the story, made by Killa back in the day.  There’s something incredibly nostalgic about these images for me, taking me back to late 90s fandom.  But they’re also pretty low res and small by today’s standards.  And I had no intention of printing any of this book in color, since I don’t have a color printer.  Instead of leaving out these historical fandom artifacts, I decided to convert them to black and white.  Originally I wanted to try to convert them to black and white sketches but that turned out to be really easier said than done.  Because of the nature of the images, there really wasn’t enough detail for most apps to work.  So I did the best I could with each image.

In addition to the photo manips I found a lot of other black and white images appropriate to the setting and included them.  There are So Many illustrations in this book, guys.  IDK why, it felt right. 

Then the binding.  I wanted it to feel appropriate to the time period, as much as possible.  I offered the author’s copies but they declined (at least the two who replied.)  Which meant I could afford to try out leather.  I did it a bit on the cheap, buying a piece with unknown provenance, unknown processing.  And it was a LEARNING experience, but, ended up being not that big a deal.

Sewing with traditional cords was more challenging, using a jury rigged sewing frame.  I used jute twine rather than expensive linen but it seems to have worked okay.  I knew it was okay if it felt a bit handmade and rugged, because I was going for old-fashioned. The boards are tied on with the cords, and I was afraid the cords would be really prominent under the leather but once I put it in the press to dry, it came out super smooth! The book is rounded and backed, which went better than ever before thanks to tips from other Renegade Bindery folks.  The headbands are hand-sewed with embroidery thread. 

I slightly skived the leather with my new knife.  The only problem I had with the leather was really that I cut too much off the edge and had to glue a strip back on to avoid a gap when I pasted down the endpages.

Basically, if you want to try working with leather, my advice is don’t be scared, go slow, watch DAS’s Flexible Leather Binding series a few times, but honestly it’s not that scary. 

Speaking of endpages, I made them from silk fabric that I had.  Blame @spockandawe​ for saying the words “fabric endpages” in my hearing.  And I didn’t have appropriate endpaper for this project, but I do have lots of fabric stash.  I couldn’t find any good online tutorial for them, so I totally made up the process, basically doing it just like made endpapers, with the fabric pasted to paper on one half.  I ended up keeping my waste paper and gluing that down as well to potentially combat the pull of leather, since I didn’t do any prepping of the boards with paper for that purpose. 

The title is just printed on text paper and pasted on. I made the indent by cutting it out of one 1mm thick board and gluing that to another 1mm board. Then just covered the whole thing with leather.

Oh and one other new technique is that I used an electric sander to make the top and bottom edges smooth (mostly).  I wanted the curved edge to have the stairstep signatures, but to make it feel more cohesive I took a sander to my raw edges otherwise.  I used paper in grits of 100, 220, and 600 until the edges were silky smooth.  I will say, however, that once I started fanning the pages to take pictures little bits of paper popped out which you can see in some of the photos.  But from now on I’m best friends with my palm sander.  No guillotine or chisel trimming for me!  (Thank you to Cactus who talked me through this at Havencon.)

Note: I will always make a copy for any author who asks. Though if you want leather I might ask for supply money.

[gloivy]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

i’m like a million years late, but thank you @sleepstxtic and @annanother-thing for tagging me! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 13 works on gloivy, and 7 works on punchedbystarlight - so 20 all together!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

225,935

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Harry Potter at the moment!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The Weight of the Void

2. The Light on a Starless Night

3. Don’t Call Me Baby

4. The Muggle Telephone

5. How to Catch Snitches and Get Witches

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

I do, occasionally. I just find it very difficult to keep on top of! I wish I could respond to every single comment I receive, but it gets very overwhelming. I do read every single comment though, and I treasure each and every one!

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

It’s probably a drabble hidden away in the depths of my twt somewhere, because ending them on an angsty cliffhanger was My Thing for a while. But as for actual fics, it has to be nobody nobody nobody

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

THIS ONE IS HARD. I love a happy ending. But I think The Muggle Telephone has to take this one! The way Hermione hard launches their relationship in the same way that Draco exposed his crush at the beginning of the fic still makes me giggle hehehe

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Unfortunately I’ve had a couple of really horrible hate comments. But most of the time it’s just rude comments about not updating fast enough, because *apparently* I am to cater to the every whim of RandomAo3User. But it’s best to give those kinds of people no energy or attention!

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

I am not a smut writer, at all. I write it only out of necessity, because I loathe writing it hahaha.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Never written a crossover!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Unfortunately, yes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I’d love to co-write something some day with one of my many talented friends!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Well there’s only one answer I can give here isn’t there? Dramione.

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

My longfic based on this drabble. Where Death Eater Draco finds a small girl that reminds him of a witch he once loved, and kills all of his comrades to protect her. I want to finish writing it SO BAD but I probably won’t have the time for at least 2+ years, so… it’s not looking promising hahahaha

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don’t know if it’s my strength, per se, but I’ve always found dialogue the most enjoyable part of writing. It just flows from my brain in a way that nothing else does!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything? Haha. No, I especially struggle with writing action - in a way that flows without feeling jarring or awkward. I’m always afraid of writing an action scene where it’s just a series of movements one after the other and it all becomes very robotic and unnatural. Which sucks for me because the fic I’m working on at the moment for NaNo is filled with action. But I’m hoping it’ll make me a bit better at it hahahaha

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

I’ve personally never done it, although I have been talking about writing a McGonagall fic in Scots for…. years hahaha (it’ll happen one day). But I really enjoy when authors include another language in fic. As long as there is a translation in the notes for the clueless people (me).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Okay, so I can’t remember exactly, because I’ve been writing fic since I was small. But I think it was a Hunger Games fic, because that was the fandom that introduced 12 y/o me to fanfic :’)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I can’t pick just one! As self deprecating as I am most of the time, I do have a few fics that I’m pretty proud of hehehe.

• The Muggle Telephone is the only fic of mine that I reread from time to time. And yes, I laugh at my own jokes. Yes, it’s a bit sad.

• How to Catch Snitches and Get Witches is my baby at the moment, I’m having so much fun writing it, and it makes me so happy to know people are enjoying reading it too!

• The Light on a Starless Night is my prettiest fic by far imo, and it has some of the best prose I’ve ever written!

since i’m so late to this, idk who has done this already! so i’m tagging anyone who wants to participate! <3

[dont-call-me-algernon]

Ty @circeancity for the tag!!

RULES: Reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

The thing is, I don’t have a single wip folder, but a different wip folder for each fandom. Meaning I have something like 20wips at a time, in various states of abandonment… yeah. So I think I’m gonna stick to the ones I’ve edited/added to at least once in the last month, for this one!

1. dead ringers

A pre-canon first meeting one shot about the citrus killers from Bullet Train, written by me for me basically, given the almost non-existent fandom for this book. Unfortunately a case of “I have everything written and more or less edited EXCEPT the last few paragraphs, how do you even end a fic”.

[...] "It's a bit freaky from up close, isn't it?"

"I beg you pardon?" He scoffed, affecting annoyance for being suddenly addressed by a stranger.

"Too bad there can only be one," the other man said, a small grin beginning to form at the corner of his mouth. Tangerine almost expected him to laugh and exclaim something along the lines of ‘oh, I always wanted to say that!’. How cliché. "And that would be me. You can save your energies. If I could be killed, I would be already dead," but then he backtracked, "Then again, if you went down without a fight, it would be kind of a bummer. So try to put up a little resistance, yeah?"

2. fishbones

I recently made a mistake, and that mistake was getting into Funger (Fear & Hunger). Now everyone must put up with my rare pair shenanigans over there too. I’m prooobably gonna keep the title, unless I come up with anything better by the time I've finished writing it (very unlikely). Also – small warning for people chit-chatting during an impromptu autopsy, I guess??

[...] "Much obliged," the doctor said, offering him a thin smile that looked almost as out of place on his gaunt features as the rest of him, with his eccentric slacks and silken bow tied around his collar, did in a devastated village turned warzone. "Henryk, was it?"

"At your service," he replied mechanically and regretted it at once. He didn't want him to get any creative ideas about his willingness to help with his current task.

"Let me tell you, Henryk, you'd make for a terrible pickpocket," the other remarked as he drew another cut along the dead man's sternum.

3. bank time babyyy

Incredibly silly working title for an incredibly self-indulgent Death Note fic about “what if some of the corrupt yotsuba execs had lived long enough to be able to react to the events of the 2020 one shot (re: the new Kira using yotsuba bank for his plan)???”

[...] "Somehow, the board still believe it’s an elaborate publicity stunt."

"And you decided you’re going to let them," Mido concluded for him. "They must think we have the strangest concept of guerrilla marketing."

"Only until I'm able to fix this…" he seemed on the cusp of adding something – situation, debacle, utter trainwreck – before likely resolving that no Japanese word could do justice to the absurdity of their predicament. "I never thought I'd be grateful for the depth of human stupidity, but here we are," he gave way to another pause, marked by an almost solemn intake of breath preluding to what, from his perspective, must have been a pretty humiliating admission. "I'll need your help. And your spirits."

Besides @bespectacled-bookwyrm I’m… not really sure who else among my mutuals has any active wips, so I’m gonna tag them and anyone else who may want to do this little game, as usual.

[diorysuss]

uhm. I did the Dion/Lizzie fanfic (well like 98% of it. I need 2 percent more) if you wanna read it be my guest but it’s wip (please pm me mistakes/advice) and it’s…

✨under the cut✨

Lizzie and Dion try to visit each other. Maybe it’s more like Lizzie crashing into Dion’s room.

Lizzie walked down the snow-trodden path of Ocean City, gift in hand. The brisk Maryland weather forcing her to wear a scarf. Just a scarf, though. The weather doesn’t control her, she's not a pussy. She was still in her short sleeved tee and overalls. This better be worth it, Lizzie thought as she finally reached her destination.

Murray’s Antiques. The sign had two eye flashing, which always made her uncomfortable, and she never really knew why her girlfriend preferred staying here over renting an apartment or staying at a hotel even. But Lizzie couldn’t really talk though. The former gang-leader stayed in a shed with a sleeping bag on it. Or used too, anyways. Now Dion, “worried for her well-being” and “concerned about her health,” let her stay in her room, filled with all sorts of knick knacks and trinkets. The tentacle really creeped her out.

Lizzie marched her way towards the back of the house however, because every time she entered through the front, it was the same question and the same excuse can only work so many times.

——————————————————————————

The black haired chick sitting at the desk would raise an eyebrow. “Why are you here, Lizzie?”

Normally she’d have one prepared, but sometimes she’d caught off-guard. “Uh.. payment for Dion Simmons.”

“For what?” “That’s none of your goddamn business.”

She’d look up from the paper on her desk. “Well I can’t let you in without a reason.”

Now it was Lizzie’s turn to cock her eyebrow. “I just gave you one.”

———��—————————————————————

Ugh, the joke setup was so awful neither Lizzie nor the author wants to finish the memory. Before she realizes it, though, her face gets very familiar with the window, and pure bewilderment makes her fall flat ass into the snow, dropping her gift. Damn it! The bottom was all soggy, and it was slightly dented on the side. It was expensive, too. It was hard finding a guy in Ocean City who could make these for cheap but good. Well, she did put a crowbar to his knees. Lizzie carefully picks it up, and knocks on the window to the tune of some jazz song she knows Dion likes. Vaguely the tune.

Dion sits on her bed, waiting anxiously. The jazz agent is normally this silent, but it’s never this uncomfortably silent. In her shadow shorts lap sits a little box, precariously undisturbed. The crystal store next door didn’t want to work on it at first, but after some gentle encouragement, (read: a shakedown from the mafia and a convincing sleaze gun to the woman’s face), she finally got it finished.

Finally, a loud bang hits her barely working window, followed by a wet thud and a loud string of curse words. It startles Dion, and she makes sure she looks perfect down to the last coil on her afro, even though she knows Lizzie won’t really care. The woman runs a gang after all. After giving her girlfriend a second to compose herself, she unlocked the.. lock, and opened the window.

A hefty medium sized box was thrown through the window first, the Big Lizzie herself, who had to use about 90% of her stamina to get herself through the window in the first place. Eventually, Dion took the girl's hand and got her in, landing on the twin-sized bed with a small “oumph.”

“Hi.” Dion said first. Thank goodness you can’t see cherries in chocolate, because her face would be red as a tomato.

Lizzie just giggled. “Heya Doll. Long time no see, eh?”

“Yes. I’ve.. missed you.” The shorter of the two women gave the other a hug. It had been a long time since they had seen each other. It felt like 5000 years. Fighting an Old God really did that to your schedule.

Lizzie was surprised by the sudden show of affection. It was unusual for Dion, but she didn’t mind it. Not one bit. She returned the hug back, and gave the other a kiss on the cheek. She could feel the blush on the other one’s face.

The freckled gal sat down on the bed, taking off her scarf. Dion puzzled over it. “You came in.. just a scarf?” Lizzie nodded. “I wanted to be on time, you’re always jeering about how I’m late..” Dion puffed her face, and Lizzie knew what that meant. “Well, that won’t do.” She stormed out of the room, and Lizzie had picked out a book from her girlfriends bookshelf to pass the time. Oooh, Auto-Repair for Geniuses.

————————————————————————-

Dion had come out of her room, with two mugs and a determined look on her face. Jessica raised her head from her desk.

“What do you need two mugs for?”

Dion stopped. “Uhh.. I’m extra thirsty.”

Jessica cocked her eyebrow above her glasses.

“I heard the window open. And a thud.”

Dion sighed. She didn’t feel like coming out today. “Well, Jessica. If you really have to know, it’s mafia business, which pays for this whole shabangbang of hunting down Gods. Now unless you wanna lose fun-“

Jessica (quite rudely) interrupted her. “Alright, alright! Well, just try not to use all the ingredients. Murray said that stuff’s getting expensive.”

“…Ok.”

————————————————————————

Dion had come back, two hot mugs in hand. Lizzie had barely noticed her until she sat next to her and handed it to her. “Here, I got you hot chocolate.”

She took her’s, sipping it. She didn’t even really like hot chocolate, but she knew Lizzie did, and that was evident by the fact she was practically chugging hers.

Eventually, the taller one had to ask. “Why ain’t you tell your folks about us yet?” Dion sucked in her teeth. “I’m.. not ready to admit it.” It was still hard to believe it herself. It has been three months since she’d fallen for Lizzie, two since she finally admitted it to herself and one since she confessed.

“Well who have you told? The devil?” Dion sucked in her teeth again. “..Kinda.” “What?” “Nothing.” There was a moment of silence while Dion handed her mug to Lizzie. “..I’ve told Molly though. She got a girlfriend already.” Lizzie smiled a bit. “Well at least you told someone you trust.” She took the other into her arm, rubbing her shoulder to comfort her. Dion leaned into the touch.

Lizzie perked up suddenly. “Hey, Doll! I got you something for Crimbo. I’d think you’d like it.” She reached over and got the slightly-messed up box. “I.. dropped it. I hope it ain’t too damaged.”

Dion took it, struggling a bit since she didn’t have as much muscle as the mechanic. “That’s ok, Lovebug.” She gently tore off the wrapping paper, to find a beautiful little radio on the box. Opening the packaging, the radio was just as nice as the art made it to be. It was sleek, black, and fit perfectly into her room. Dion nearly passed out. It turned to over 72 stations. 72!

Dion turned to the red-head, and hugged her again, but this time it was much more eager. “Thank you Lovebug! Thank you so much!” Lizzie nearly was tackled over how much force was put on her at once. “Awe, ain’t nothin. I knew how much you liked jazz n’ music.” She blushed.

Dion suddenly waved her hands, excited to get out the box from her pocket. It was silver and iron coloured, barely the size of her palm. Dion put it in Lizzie’s hand, putting her own behind her back. “I want you to open it.” Lizzie was confused, but did as she was told

She flipped open the top, revealing a beautiful ring. The crystal in the center was pitch black and absorbed all light around it, leaving nothing but her reflection on it, like a mirror. The platinum design was beautiful, and it would not rust while working, either. It was wonderful.

“How.. how much did this cost?”

“2000… meat. The mob owed me a favor..”

Ignoring the mob part, Lizzie put it on almost immediately. It looked great on her hand.

guys it 2 am i’m too tired I’ll work on this later

[satashiiwrites]

Death, Rebirth and the Jackal for the WIP game! I am intrigued

So, this fic is partially posted but got put on the back burner because I made too many commitments for the back half of 2023 on the writing front. The base fandom/characters is Mass Effect Andromeda but it’s very AU and not quite a fusion of The Mummy (1999 Brendan Fraser movie) but has huge influences from Moon Knight, Egyptian Mythology and probably every other piece of media I’ve ever consumed about Egyptian archeology in the 1800s/early 1900s. Mixed with were-creatures. Kinda.

Some liberties have been taken. I don’t usually do straight-up scene for scene fusions unless i’m writing crack!fic.

My muse had been long chewing on another one shot I wrote (A Soul’s Weight) that invoked Reyes as his fanon callsign: Anubis where I may or may not have borrowed Egyptian myth and not put it back where it belongs in the same condition in which it was borrowed.

Here’s a bit that hasn’t been posted to AO3. It’s two snippets from Alec’s POV that is a flashback that gives some backstory as he’s dead in the present day of the fic. (I’m great at fridging Alec in my fics I’ve just realized and I regret it not at all).

From: Death, Rebirth and the Jackal, unknown chapter

Fandom: The root character source is Mass Effect Andromeda. Recognizable elements from the Mummy trilogy, borrowed some Moon Knight and other things as well.

Tags/warnings: first draft. Flashback. Ryder family feels.

They’d made good progress today.  The finds had not been too significant but it felt like they were getting closer to something significant—he could just feel something was coming. Their permit was good for the whole year so they had time to be methodical with their dig and focus on accuracy and scholarship rather than being simple grave robbers like those that had come before them.  

It made Alec’s blood boil to think that most of the tombs had been almost fully cleared out by the time of Plutarch and turned into tourist attractions.  So much lost but he knew there had to still be significant discoveries hidden underneath dirt, sand and rock. They only had to carefully dig to discover them. Ellen was even more hopeful than him, having found parts of a broken beaded necklace just last week. 

They hadn’t found a new tomb yet but he knew they would.  All that talk of the last tombs having been located was false.  His skin itched, he knew the dead still slept in these hills—he just had to find them. 

Rubbing his face tiredly as he approached the tents that his small family was currently living in, he found his daughter sitting quietly with a book.  Sara’s small little face was screwed up in concentration as she studied her hieroglyphics book, a pencil stuck between her lips making her front teeth stick out just a bit as she had yet to grow into them. 

Smiling, he placed a kiss to the top of her fine hair that somehow had gotten sand in it even though it had been carefully braided into a crown atop her small head. He ran his hand  down her back, encouraging her to curl into his side in a hug.  “How goes the studying?” He asked as they sat together curled up on the overlapping rugs used as carpeting and reaching for the small container of dates that their nanny Nailah had thoughtfully left for her young charge to snack on as she studied. “Where’s Nailah and your brother?” 

“Scott went outside when he finished,” Sara admitted with a little huff.  “He’s much faster than me.”

Laughing at his daughter’s grumpiness, Alec let her cuddle deep into his side.  Sara was good with hieroglyphics but it was his son Scott who seemed to just effortlessly read and write in the ancient script like he’d been born to it.  Sara was more studious and dedicated while Scott had the natural aptitude yet no drive to learn like his sister which was a shame.   

“Where outside?  Nailah too?”

“She went looking for him a bit ago,” Sara sighed with all the weight of the world on her thin little nine-year-old shoulders. “He said he wanted to go play with Jabari.”

“Jabari?” Alec inwardly groaned.  Jabari was the son of one of the head porters that had been hired without his say so.  The man was only middling at his job and his son had a penchant for trouble that he often pulled Scott in by association. 

<<scene break>>d

He held out his own wrists, offering them to her.  “And mine?”

The pity in her eyes was answer enough. 

“I’m too late aren’t I?”

She nodded her head slowly, her hands coming to grasp the outside of his and thumbs resting over the pulse point and rubbing the drying blood into his skin.  “If you had been brought to us as a child…”

Alec looked away from her toward his son who slept fitfully, wrists bleeding still from the marks that had been cut into them.  For Scott it had to work. His son couldn’t bear this curse. the call of the desert was too strong of an influence. The need to run and howl, to be only half a man.  The thought of Scott being burdened like he was… he would do anything to prevent that. 

God forgive him for what he had done to his own son. 

“But for him?”

Her head bowed, gaze serious as they landed on the mop of chestnut hair arrayed like a halo around his son. “The binding will hold…”

“But for how long? He’ll live a normal life?” He pleads, desperate. 

Her lips press together firmly, but she doesn’t answer him. 

[spellcasterlight]

hi there! i saw many titles in your wip tag game thing, but one in particular caught my attention i wanna know more abt ur shinoten hunger games au 👀 if youre comfy sharing of course !

have a good day ✨❤

Hi there @alumort!

Warnings: None - under the cut simply for length!

Thanks for the ask! ✨

WIP Titles Game! 📓

Ao3 ✨ | WIP Game Always Open ✒️| Ko-Fi ☕

So I was in a Hungers Games mood and started jotting down some notes!

The first chapter would of course be heavy in backstory and world building. Lee and Sakura dying in the games. Tenten being Gai’s adopted daughter. Her taking over the blacksmith shop after he is injured in an attack. Shino being the mayors son. 

I would have them both admire the other for different reasons, coming to light more during the pre-game interviews and training. Tenten would admire Shino’s intelligence, his wants to improve the lives of everyone who lives in his district, how he treats everyone the same no matter where they come from and his self-taught capabilities with a bow. 

Shino would admire her determination and drive as well as her loyalty to her family and her creative abilities as a blacksmith and her ways of handling swords as well as throwing knives because of her work.

Kakashi would be Tenten’s mentor and only because he promised Gai to bring her home. Kurenai would be a paid for mentor by Shibi. Both mentors make it clear to their charges they will sacrifice the other tribute should the need arise (for different but understandable reasons) but Shino and Tenten dig their heels in and stick to their plan to team up and win together.

I also wanted to do some changes to the games themselves. I would keep a permanent rule of ‘if two tributes survive from one district they both win’ but also add a mental puzzle aspect so I could bring in more of Shino’s intelligence and teamworking opportunities. I would also have an ‘end point’ to the game. A place were the potentials winners would need to have their last show down to win so to speak!

Below are some extremely rough exerts mostly in dialogue form!:

Tenten being asked about Lee and Shino in her pre-games interview:

So I have heard that your brother was also a participant in the games is that true?

Most contestants try to go it alone don’t even think about trying to team up with their nation partner and even if they do one of them dies before they can find each other.

The girl last year was Sakura Haruno, remembering what Kakashi had said she tried to engage the audience. Maybe some of you remember her? Cherry blossom pink hair, beautiful green eyes, just a little bit of a temper?

My brother had been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her.

When she was called for the reaping his is the cry you can hear in the playback.

Konan hadn’t even finished saying she was going to pick the boys name before he volunteered. And part of me knew he would.  There was just no way he was going to let her go into the games with someone who might not put her first. Who would go in with the intention of never teaming up with her. That whoever it was would have no intention of bringing her home.

Their plan right from the beginning was to find each other and win together.

Sakura worked in the small medical clinic we have but after that attack by the boy from the sound there was nothing she could do

Your other nation tribute, Shino Aburame, tell us about him.

Shino is the most intelligent person I’ve ever met and the politest him and his dad both are. Shino has all these ideas about how to improve the district for everyone and I- He’s-He’s good people. I admire him.

Shino being asked about Tenten in his pre-games interview:

And what are your thoughts on your other nation tribute, Tenten?

Tenten is everything I am not. She is fierce and powerful and skilled in combat and I find myself enraptured by her beauty both inside and out.

Do you plan on trying to win together?

I would not win without her. But she would have a chance without me.

Tenten and Shino planning on working together the night before the games:

Why did you lie? In your interview.

I did not lie. I do not lie.

Yes you did. You said you couldn’t win without me but I could win without you. That’s wrong and you know it. I’d never get out of there alive without you. You would know how to answer the riddles for the chests, you would know what we could and couldn’t eat, you would have a plan for each other tribute.

I have what? I have a little muscle on me and I can run a bit.

Even if I managed to find one of the chests, crack the code, and there’s a sword or a knife in there. I’m doing nothing more than taking down a few of the other tributes before I-

You sell yourself short. I stand by what I said in the interview.

And I stand by what I’m saying right now.

Could we really do it?

I have faith in us. I have faith in you.

I have faith in you too.

So it’s settled. We’re in this together.

Together.

Kakashi and Tenten’s final talk before she enters the games:

Any last words of advice?

Stick to the plan. Get a weapon find water and find Shino.

We said we would both aim for the centre. They always place the tributes around the outside of the arena looking in so

That is what everyone else's plan is going to be.

It’s the only way we’re going to find each other.

I have to tell you Tenten. I made your dad a promise I would look after you if that means having to prioritise you over Shino I-

-I’m going to do that. I will not see Gai cry again.

Sensei.

We won’t lose you too.

If push comes to shove you need to look after Shino not me. He can do so much more for our village than I can. He’s smart and well connected and level headed he’ll make better decisions than I ever could. He’s the better choice for all of us.

Shino figuring out a puzzle in the games:

Tenten. A chest.

What on earth does that even mean?

Please Tenten be quiet a moment.

His fingers flailed staying completely silent

It worked!

I fear it will not be that simple.

The chest contained a beautifully made bow and a quiver that was unhelpfully empty as if to only half-heartedly congratulate Shino on his working out of the clue.

It is as I thought. The puzzle was too simple for anything truly helpful.

She wordless took them out of the chest only taking a second to admire the craftsmanship of the longbow before handing them to him.

At least you can swing it at someone

After the games, Tenten and Shino head home:

The train would stop in Konoha the next day

Tenten-

I like this. Us I think we make a great team and I-

I would like to look into this more. If you don’t want to please say now-

That is also what I wish.

But slow right?

Slow.

May I still kiss you sometimes?

What do you think?

[dreamingofaizawa]

Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy. 

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that. 

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched. 

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths. 

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display. 

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting. 

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears. 

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long. 

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected. 

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable. 

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

[keilemlucent]

mother knows best

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.6k

keigo’s dick catches up with him in the form of a fat, red strap

warnings: daddy kink, subby hawks, mean reader, lingerie, pegging, dumbification (a wittle), dacryphilia, revenge sex, degradation, keigo’s a cock slut ❤️

...

oh wow so this is actually a wip from all the way back in august!! i got some good inspo, so enjoy some subby hawks goodness loveys <3

You wanted nothing more than fucking ruin Keigo.

He’d been a shit lately, more annoying than usual. Fuck, you’d even say that he had been a downright brat.

It was obviously somewhat endearing, getting bent over countertops, teased through your clothes and getting left wet and wanting as he would just so happily walk away, whistling triumphantly to himself. 

Or, maybe, it was how at the recent Hero’s Gala, Keigo had dragged you into one of the hotel’s lavish bathrooms, meters away from his colleagues and shoved you up against the large dressing mirror, his bulge shoved against your ass, whispering about how he was going to shred your dress from your frame. 

“You just look too good, babe,” Keigo’s hands raked up and down your chest, nearly pulling your breasts from the delicate fabric of your dress. 

You’d pleaded with him, “I get that you’re horny, but this really isn’t the place.”

You still let him fuck your mouth to orgasm.

Twice.

He’d been at least nice enough to help you wipe the smears of the professionally done makeup from your face.

“Sorry,” Keigo spoke with a smile, thumbing away a run of mascara from under your eyes as you sat on the edge of the sink. “You did great though. You were so beautiful for me, angel. So sexy. ”

You frowned, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from your face, meeting his eye with an uncomfortable amount of intensity. 

“Keigo.”

He blinked.

“Yeah?”

You felt his palms begin to sweat in your grip.

You smiled, something eerily dark.

“How do you feel you’ve been lately?”

You watched his throat bob, his keen mind going just where you wanted it to. As much as you loved indulging in Keigo’s insatiable, unstoppable, carnal need to bend your back until it broke, you were also very tired of the attitude he’d gotten from it lately. 

“I think...” Keigo wet his lips, pressing between your spread legs from your perch, “I think I’ve been good.”

“You do?!” You repeated, laughing a bit as you squeezed your thighs around Keigo’s trim waist. You grabbed his cheeks between your thumb and middle finger, forcing his gaze to be on your messy, smeared face. “I didn’t think my ‘good boy’ was such a fucking dumbass.”

A whimper dripped from the back of his throat as you frowned, knowing how quickly being taken down a peg got him hot and bothered.

“You’ve jumped my ass without any regard for circumstances how many times in the last week?” You sneered, digging your nails into baby fat above his jaw. “Did you think about the consequences of your actions, babe?”

Keigo let out a deep breath, “Angel, I—”

You fully grabbed his cheeks and jaw, squeezing his lips puckered, “What did you just call me?”

His eyes went wide, hands tensing on the tops of your thighs.

“If I let you speak, are you going to do so properly?” You relished the frantic nod he tried to give you.

You dropped your hand to the front of his dress shirt, hooking your fingers into the top of his tie, “Speak then.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Keigo’s eyes went big and doughy, refusing to look at you. 

“That’s better,” You hummed, playing with the silky fabric. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, okay, sweetheart?”

He forced his gaze up to yours.

“We’re gonna go back out there, smile for the cameras, and then head home and get some good sleep.”

“B-but aren’t you going to p-punish—” Keigo words were gluey and slow, giving you all the more reason to interrupt him, even going so far as to shift to tighten his tie around his neck, perhaps a bit too constricting.

“I will, when the time is right. You just try to be a good boy until then, see you actually can.”

A filthy, but very fun plan was brewing in your head. It just would take some time.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The opportune time struck a few weeks later. Though Keigo had at first been on some better behavior, he reverted to his typical, bratty self a week after your threat was made.

You were just biding your time, besides, custom orders took some time.

It wasn’t hard to contact Keigo’s PA, requesting his measures for ‘unknown’ purposes. 

What was harder was wading through the hundreds of beautiful designs you could order for him. You spent a good few hours scrolling and fantasizing about what colors and patterns Keigo’s pretty, lithe body would look best in. After beating one out, you made your decision, entered his measurements, and sent the order off. It might’ve been the fervor of hot pleasure you had, but you threw in an extra item or two to your purchase. You were spoiling yourself, really. 

Three weeks later, it arrived, perfect in every way, along with the extra items.

Then, it was just about watching Keigo and waiting to strike.

...

He came in late one night, feathers all but bare, uniform muddled.

As Keigo fell on the bed following his shower, you took note of his downy stubs, bare of most of his usual feathers. You grinned something wicked. 

Tomorrow was the day.

Keigo crawled up to you, immediately pulling your back to his chest, peppering your shoulders with kisses before drifting off. You turned to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, hoping he’d get enough rest to be ready for all you had planned.

...

The next morning, Keigo lumbered out of bed while you were finishing your coffee on the couch, already donned in your business casual attire (with some additions, but he couldn’t see those yet). 

“Hey, angel,” His voice was scratchy with sleep as he plopped down next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept super good,” You smiled, returning his sweet gesture. “How about you?”

“Good, very good. I’m just glad I have a day off.” Keigo relaxed into the cushions. He flexed the roughly two-foot-long stubs of crimson feathers, “Gotta grow these back out, and that means I’m relaxing all day.”

You grinned, the pieces of your plan having perfectly fallen into place.

“I’m very glad, sweetheart,” You gave him a fleeting kiss before standing up and heading back to the bedroom. 

Keigo called after you, “Where’re you off to, angel? I wanna give you some love before you gotta leave me.”

“One sec! I just gotta get my shit together for work,” You purred back knowingly. Your purse was already packed and ready. You had other traps to lay.

Flitting into the closet, you rummaged through a small set of drawers to retrieve one of the several packages you received. It was a clean, white box, about half the size of a pillow, wrapped in red ribbon. 

You laid it on the freshly made bed, adjusting some of the satins as you did. 

Keigo beamed at you as you exited to the living room, sauntering up and wrapping his hands around your waist to kiss your forehead. 

He stiffened when he felt the straps beneath your work blouse.

“Angel?” He squeezed your waist. 

You smirked, kissing the corner of his mouth before gently cupping his jaw, “Now, sweetheart, can you be a good boy for me today?”

Keigo, the sweet thing he was, turned to putty in your hands.

He nodded, his bottom lip poking out. 

“Good,” You tightened your grip on his jaw. “You have a lot to make up for, considering what a brat you’ve been lately.”

The way Keigo trembled in your hold, cheeks hot, made your head spin with your ideas for the evening. 

“You didn’t forget, did you?” You walked him back, only stopping when his ass hit the kitchen table. He jumped when he slid just the slightest bit back, forced to sit. 

“F-forget what?” Keigo genuinely couldn’t remember, based off the quirk in his brow.

You clicked your tongue, shifting a knee between his legs, “At the Gala. Use your brain, sweetheart.”

His expression fell with the revelation. 

Your punishments were never easy. Very fun, but god, they were excruciating. 

Watching the expression on Keigo’s face drift as he worked out the context of your actions made you shiver. You were sure he’d be a brat later, but catching him off guard always made him particularly weak to your touch.

“Now, baby, I was nice enough to leave a pretty present for you in our room.” You pinch his plump bottom lip between your fingers, “When I get home, I want you on the bed all dolled up for me, understand?”

He swallowed, nodding against your hold as enthusiastically as he could manage.

“Good.” You released him, kissing the indent that your nails left. “I’ve got to get going, but I love you lots, okay?”

Keigo was comically stunned with a very noticeable bulge in his boxers, “I l-love you too.”

You throw your purse over your shoulders, smug at your ability to turn Keigo into obedient mush. 

As you opened the door to leave, you were gracious enough to shout and remind him, “Oh, and sweetheart? Be a good boy and don’t you dare touch yourself today, or I’ll make tonight far worse for you. Have a good day off, love!”

...

The moment you left the apartment, Keigo let out a tight breath.

Holy fuck.

He really thought he’d get to spend the day relaxing and letting his wings regrow, but as it turned out, you had far better plans for the two of you and Keigo didn’t have the mind to fight it.

Not yet, anyway.

He’d give you shit later. It was fun to push you around, in any context.

When he was sure you were far out the door, he quickly padded to the bedroom, eyeing the box that lay on the duvet.

Slipping onto the sheets, he kneeled and pulled it closer. He rubbed at the ribbon, frowning. 

The two of you had used toys and...  devices plenty of times, tending to each other, just in different ways. But, when Keigo picked up the parcel, it seemed far too light to have any sort of toy in it.

Keigo frowned, slipping off the satin and pulling off the lid.

...

Oh fuck.

Inside, neatly packaged with crisp tissue paper, was a carefully folded set of clothes. Special clothes, notably.

This became abundantly clear as Keigo carefully pulled the mesh and lace out of the box, blood rushing to his half-hard cock. 

It was an incredibly pretty set. Stockings, garters, even a ribbed bodice with lacey cups, all pale pink with gold embroidery and accents. 

It was pretty, but not your size at all.

As he pulled out the last item, a pair of satin and lace panties with extra fabric at the front, he realized that these were undoubtedly for him.

A hot blush sped to his cheeks as he stared down at the pretty mess in front of him. 

Sure, he’d talked about this kink to you in passing, but you’d never mentioned it and he’d never asked you to indulge him in it. 

However, it was quite clear that that was indeed what you were doing, giving him such a beautiful set. 

There was even a small card.

“Keigo, 

Despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but an ungrateful brat lately, 

I’ve been gracious enough to give you a sweet gift.

You’ll have to earn it tonight. 

Be good.

(Y/N) <3”

 Keigo stared down at the garments and the note, already far too hard to be comfortable.

It was hardly going to be a leisurely day off.

...

 You took the opportunity to torture Keigo just a little.

Honestly, you deserved it. With the way he’d been randomly dragging you into bathrooms, alleyways, and dressing rooms to wreck you, it was truly only fair that you got to wreck him. 

So, you started early.

You sent picture after picture to him throughout the day, stepping from your office to tease at your own special garments that hid just under your modest clothing. Keigo probably wouldn’t touch himself, knowing what that would cost him. Fucking with him throughout the day would just make your revenge that much sweeter. 

He was easy to get riled up, it was one of his biggest weaknesses when this dynamic came up. Keigo might’ve had the stamina to go for hours, but he didn’t have the heart or mind not to beg for it.

And god, by the end of reaching your own workday, straps feeling almost too tight and pussy dripping, you were more than ready to fuck Keigo up beyond belief.

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 “Kei’? I’m home!” You called as you came in the front door, slipping off your shoes and hanging your purse.

“I’m in here,” Keigo’s voice echoed from the bedroom.

Oh.

Perfect.

Your plan, long thought-out, had turned out perfectly. Now, you reaped the reward.

You were going to fucking ruin Keigo.

Destroy him.

If he wasn’t a shaking pile of cum and sweat when you were done with him, you’d just keep going. 

You strode to the bedroom, anticipating the sight before you with bated breath.

And god, did Keigo take yours away.

Like a ‘good boy’, he was just as you ordered him to be. 

He was kind enough to keep the lighting the room low, though he was more than visible and fucking gorgeous.

The lingerie set fit him beautifully, as you expected. The pink satin and lace stretched over his tanned skin so well, showing off the tone of his muscles and the swell of his light curves, as well as his already weeping bulge. 

He sat on his spread knees atop the bed, garters pulling tight over his upper thighs. The panties were maybe a bit small for Keigo’s fat cock, but seeing a bit of him peeking out was never a bad thing.

The bodice of the piece was truly beautiful. It was ribbed, a blushing pink and had small threads of golden stitching accenting the lace work. The cups of the piece were pressed to Keigo’s hardened, pierced nipples, the fabric undoubtedly teasing the skin raw (not that you didn’t plan on getting them such a way yourself.) 

“Oh, baby,” You sigh, a light, genuine smile coming to your face. “You look beautiful.”

Keigo must’ve already been pretty deep in it, ducking his head and biting his lip, “Thank you, mommy.”

You smiled at his usage of the proper title, though none of your irritation or anger faded. It was only a few drops of water on a much hotter burn. 

You walked up to the bed, leaning over the end of it to tilt up his face to yours, “Kei’, what’s your safeword?” 

“Quill,” He leaned into your touch, stubbly cheeks brushing against your palms. 

Nodding to yourself, you stepped back from him. Watching Keigo was like observing a moving piece of fine art, the shadows and highlights of his body crafted by some finer being than you. You were just there to tend to him, use him and bend him in the ways you knew he craved.

You fetched the last two parcels from the closet, setting them onto the nearby dresser. Close by and in-sight, teasing the two of you.

 You turned, directly regarding Keigo. He must have been watching you move about the room, eyes rounded and knees spread just right.

“So, tell me, Kei’,” You hummed approaching the bed while popping the buttons on your work blouse. “Have you been a good boy lately?”

His fingers stiffened over the lace of the stockings, stubs twitching behind him, “I... don’t think so.”

You hummed, fully peeling off your top, “Wow, so someone’s finally got some sense to himself now? Mommy’s proud, but it’s a little too late for that.”

Keigo audibly swallowed now that you were barer to him.

Your set was a leather of some sort, black straps adorning and squeezing your frame and flesh in the best ways, linked by o-rings and pretty buckles. If Keigo was in a different mood, he would have half a mind to tug you close by the ring dangling between the slope of your breasts. 

But he wasn’t, he was mommy’s good, sweet brat, and that meant sitting and shutting up unless he wanted this to be worse for himself.  

You tapped your hip, over the slim zipper to your skirt.

“Unzip.” 

Keigo nodded, too quick and too eager as his shaking hands slid the zipper over the curve of your hip.

You stepped back before Keigo could get too much satisfaction from the action, shimming the skirt down your legs—

And the set you had on top kept going.

Garters and black stockings settled over your thighs, perfectly fitted and perfect for you and your perfect body, Keigo just wanted a taste—

You slapped his hand down onto the bed, holding it there and leaning forward with a sickly syrupy smile, “I thought you said you knew you were being a brat, baby boy? Wouldn’t that mean you know not to push your fucking luck—?” 

You left his hand on the duvet with an order to not move it, to which he complied.

And you slipped back over to the dresser, unfurling your last parcels. 

Rope and a pretty new toy.

He didn’t deserve them, they were for you.

The new harness was perfect, custom made to your size, so it sat perfectly over the curves of your thighs and ass. It looked even better when you attached the curved, thick strap to it.

“Is that—”

“For you?” You finished Keigo’s sentence with a click of your tongue. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll just suck on that cute little cock of yours until you’re fucked dry. Maybe, I would let you near my dick. Or, you learn to be a good boy like you say you are—”

You grabbed his jaw in one hand and squeezed, “And you’ll get mommy’s pretty strap?”

...

To his merit, Keigo really, really was being good. 

Each expression of his was just so, so delicious, and that wasn’t even taking into account the beautiful ways his body arched and writhed below you. 

What would the public think if they knew ‘Hawks’ was fucking mama’s boy who craved nothing more than getting stuffed with thick cock and edged until he was crying sweet, sweet tears?

Who knows! You didn’t, and you didn’t fucking care. 

You’d stuffed Keigo with a cute plug as prep, one with a glittering, yellow gem that just looked so good between his pert little ass cheeks. The new rope was put to use as well. Though, the knots were kept mainly to his arms and wrists. The new lingerie was too pretty to hide. You had tied the intricate knots and binds torturously slowly, as you’d be so kind as to attach a small, vibrating egg to the tip of his dick. 

Though, the first thing you did was lock a cock ring at his base with the promise that he ‘wouldn’t be cumming until he was screaming’. 

You had him under you, tits squished to his ribs. Your thighs slotted on the sides of his braced and squeezing him just enough so he knew not to dare to try and move with your word. 

You smeared lube up and down his angrily red cock, thumbing the head. The slick and pre slipped down and stickied his balls and the roughed-up panties tucked beneath. 

Keigo was a fucking mess for it. Whining and gasping with each breath for little, reverent pleas— ‘more, more, more—’ 

His wrists were tied together, pale pink rope making flushed marks against his heat softened skin. They were secured high on the bed, pulling his body taut and flat against the sheets.

You nipped at one of his pierced nipples, tugging the tender bar with your teeth with little regard for how Keigo squealed again. 

Each sound had you dripping, just as needy and wanting as your sweet, sweet boy, but you’d be damned to let it be as apparent as his wanting.

Keigo was a goddamn sight. 

Blond waves stuck to his forehead and temples, cheeks red and lips bitten to cherry. His mouth hung open, drool spilling from the corner and soaking the pillow you graciously kept under his head. 

(Only because you’d ridden his face for a good while prior, and you were such a nice mommy, you gave him a nice cushion while you let him tongue fuck you to another orgasm.)

“M-mommy,” Keigo’s voice shook. “Please.”

You tsked. 

“Disappointing, sweet boy,” You chastised, lightly. Keigo had already wept hard enough, you didn’t need to push much more before he cracked just as you wanted. “You know to beg better.”

Keigo choked on a sob, something that made his bound, stubby wings shudder and writhe against the sheets.

“But, I-I already have,” Keigo sputtered, tugging on the bindings and breathing hard as you toyed with the ring at the base of his swollen cock. “Please.”

He deserved it, all the teasing and sweet torture, considering what a bastard he’d been in the past week. 

“Needy and you’re talking back?” You rolled your eyes. “So what, you want me to ride your cock? That’s too good for you.”

“‘T-too good for me,’” Keigo repeated, tearfully, stomach shaking with the way he was still trying to holding back.

He just needs to let go. Be the shameless cock slut he is. 

“Guess I’ll just fuck that cute little ass of yours until I’m satisfied.”

Keigo gulped as you helped him onto his tummy, bound hands freed from the headboard to brace below him. His back arched, a practice ‘c’ curve that you made dip deeper with a press to the small of back.

“Do better,” You reminded him, cruelly. He stifled another sob, nodding.

He shrieked as you eased the lubed plug from his ass. You poured a gracious amount over the red strap-on, admiring it. 

It was thick, it’d be a stretch and would press deep enough to knock Keigo out if you so chose.

Good.

As much as Keigo loved fucking you hard and fast, wherever and whenever he pleased, he needed this sometimes. A bit of handful (or so) of mean words, and a thick cock to fuck him full and dumb.

“Baby boy,” You cooed, tapping the toy over his blushing bottom. “You ready? Or should we wait—”

The impatient bastard. 

“No, no, no,” Keigo sputtered against the sheets. “I c-can’t mommy, I can’t—”

“Can’t what, baby?”

“I can’t wait!”

It was the concept of waiting any longer for your fat cock that sent him sobbing into the bedding, hiccuping and writhing. 

Keigo, the sweet thing he was, sagged and fell apart. Breaking good and proper, coherency gone. 

You guided him through it, good and proper. 

Truthfully, Keigo had been put through it. The sudden expectations, having him wait his entire day off, tempted by your skimpy little photos. And when you finally deemed him worthy of you, it was just to tease him and pretty cock for a few hours just to let off some of your own steam was cruel. 

But Keigo had been bad, and loved getting used when you both needed it.

His tears must’ve felt damn good, considering when you reached under his hips (while rubbing tender little circles over his spine) his cock was harder than ever, leaking and wet with need.

He seized beneath you, sputtering little ‘n-no’s and ‘p-please’s mixed with his weeping. He twitched in your hand as you ran the pad of your finger around the ring at its base.

“I could take this off,” You mused, pressing the tip of the strap against his hole. “Or—” 

With a slow grind of your hips, you stretched him wide and trembling. 

Keigo’s cries got louder, deeper and rougher as he clasped his hands in their binds. Bent over his body, you teased his cock with a light hand, humming as you nonchalantly fucked him to the hilt of the strap.

“Now, sweet boy,” You nudge your hips flush to his, just barely shifting “If I take this off, can you come for me? I need you to cum for me as much until you can’t anymore. Can you be a good boy?”

After a moment of sniffling, he nodded, “Yes, m-mommy.”

You flicked the clasp on the ring, discarding it and rolling your hips.

And Keigo instantly came. 

With all of that build-up, he shuddered, wings writhing as his back bent harder as he drenched the sheets beneath the two of you.

“My good boy,” You hummed, petting between his wings as he rode it out. “Keep it up.”

And without relenting, you grabbed his wings for leverage and fucked him.

Maybe, it was a little cruel. 

Your pace was set hard and fast, tugging the feathery stubs and enjoying the feel of his round, downy feathers where you held the base. Your grip was the only thing keeping Keigo as he resisted collapsing.

You were nice enough to occasionally reach down and give Keigo a few quick pumps, just enough so he’d crest again, sticking your hand so well and thick. The cum was smeared onto the fatty round of his ass with a slap or two. 

As much as it was a damn treat to see Keigo so fucked up and fucked, you let up when his orgasms were still hot and harsh, but his cock was nearly dry. It hardly sputtered anything, drained and sticky and overstimulated beyond belief.

“N-no more, no more!” Keigo sputtered as he trembled and convulsed with a dry, painful orgasm, your hand still fisting the sore flesh on his cock. 

You knew him well enough to stop then.

Your hips stilled, breath labored, though nothing like Keigo’s teary, nearly-dry sobs. He slowly fell into the sheets, aching body falling with nothing left to give. 

Everything was slow for a moment. 

You pulled out, graciously slow and tender, mindful of his raw state.

With a few skillful tugs, his wrists were free and unbound. Weak arms and shaking hands grabbed for you, needy as ever, but still, you could indulge him. 

‘Mommy, m-mommy, please,” Keigo tried to tug you down into the soaked sheets as you unbuckled the harness from around your hips. 

You raised an eyebrow, “Still needy?”

Keigo choked on something between a sob and scream, nodding and needing. 

(Completely wrecked, just as you craved and planned. He really was good.)

Your heart softened, the energy in the air diffusing as you freed his wings, coaxing them to stretch out and release any remaining bottled up tension.

And you fell into the bed with him, tugging your sweet boy to your chest and peppering kisses over his salt-slicked cheeks.

“You were wonderful dear, my good, sweet boy,” You layered on the praise, enjoying how his shudders came from your words as opposed to the discarded cock. 

Keigo opened his cracked lips but quickly closed them, settling before nuzzling under your chin and practically purring as he came down.

You always knew that you did your job well when Keigo was fucked silent. 

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thank you for reading 💞 

ko-fi