#Spotify wrapped fics

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Did anyone say 14 for the ficlet thing? If not Im claiming it 😍😍

So, 14 is Cemetery Weather and I have been hit with inspiration.

Piarles, of course. But also magic.

Pierre has listened to Charles speak about taking the crossing since they were children. 

First in hushed whispers, asking Pierre what he knows about it. Those eventually turn into bold statements about the one that he will eventually take the crossing with.

Statements like:

I will be young. Less than 200, I think.

When I take the crossing, my soul will truly merge with theirs. We will be true soulmates. 

-

They are away at school as children and Pierre gets in his first fight when he defends Charles for reading those crossing fairytales still - nearly suspended for slashing Esteban’s face so deeply with a curse that the school nurse almost cannot heal it.

Charles never gives it up - believing in that all consuming love. 

Even when Pierre tells him at 15 that he’ll never take the crossing with anyone. Even when Charles is 22 and has his first true, deep heartbreak. Even at 57 when the vampire Charles meets while studying in Brussels breaks things off with him after gifting him a crossing necklace for his birthday. 

Charles comes home, heartbroken and sad, clinging to his belief that someday someone will take the crossing with him and tie their life to his and Pierre is pouring him a cup of tea, offering Charles the room over his shop without realizing that it’s going to change everything. 

-

Pierre is 92 when he changes his mind about the crossing. 

And it’s all Charles’ fault. 

Charles is off on another continent and he hasn’t been home in eight months and Pierre looks across the dinner table and is full of an awful longing for Charles. 

It’s not new. He longs for Charles all the time, but tonight it’s different because he realizes with such stupid clarity that he is in love with him. 

So much so that he pulls his looking glass from the case he keeps it in and he says Charles’ name, over and over and over until Charles appears - sounding breathless. “Pierre?”

“Come home,” Pierre says and Charles only manages to conceal his shock by ducking out of frame, but when he pops back in, he’s smiling. 

“Okay,” Charles nods. “I will get the next boat.”

-

Pierre thinks he conceals it well - this new and ridiculous burning inside of him for Charles. 

It trickles down into his limbs - the love for him that has always been there just…different now. 

More.

He thinks he does a great job of concealing the way his entire body vibrates when Charles throws himself into Pierre’s arms in the doorway of their home. 

I love you, he thinks.

I will tie my soul to yours in this life and the next.

Charles doesn’t notice because he pulls away and demands dinner and Pierre manages to stuff it down.

-

Pierre is 96 when he gifts Charles a crossing necklace for his birthday. 

They’re sitting at their table together - Charles is absorbed in some book that he’s researching and Pierre slides the box over the table towards him, hands shaking. 

“I thought we agreed once we were 90 -” but then he stops speaking because he’s opened the lid and seen it. The heavy silver chains that you’re meant to wear for the ritual. The ones that bind you to earth. 

“I want it with you.” Pierre says.

Charles’ smile is slow but it takes over his entire face when he looks up. “You’re about 70 years behind me, but I’ll let you pass. Since we’ll do it before we’re a hundred.”

Pierre has no time to think that over before Charles is out of his chair and kissing him.

Finally. Kissing him.

-

The earth is cool underneath Pierre’s back but the silver around his throat is warm - buzzing.

Charles’ hand is in his and the last conscious thought he has before he’s sucked under is that he hopes that when he and Charles cross over together, they really do come out the other side as one soul, but then he’s sucked under and he’s floating - untethered and unmoored.

-

Charles' hand is on his cheek and his voice is saying his name over and over and Pierre opens his eyes and he can feel it - Charles' soul rattling around in his body. 

Pierre is looking at Charles and he sees now that he’s not speaking at all. Soulmate, Charles says. Soulmate.

[imsodishy]

Harringrove and 69 😉 for the Spotify fic let thingy

This Tornado Loves You

Billy's not... good. Like in general, but also specifically at this. He doesn't know how to be with Steve in a way that isn't too much, too rough, too wild.

Steve's so much softer than anything Billy's ever known. Soft hands, soft eyes, soft lips. Soft kisses that make Billy want to sink his fingers through Steve's soft hair, dig into his scalp, and burrow deep into his brain like a worm that can't be excised without killing the host.

Which, he knows, is not a normal response to getting slipped a bit of tongue.

He tries to lock it down, but it slips out. He can't tell what it is that tips Steve off sometimes. When they're just sitting on the sofa, and Billy's staring at the cluster of moles on his throat thinking about biting that patch right off, so he can maybe graft it to his own neck, and Steve lays a hand on on his chest and stokes him like he's trying to soothe a beast. When he whispers, "Easy, tiger," with a soft smile and tries to settle him down.

Billy sure as shit doesn't know why Steve doesn't seem inclined to run from whatever madness he might sees reflected in his eyes, when they're tangled up in bed and Steve wraps a soft, soft hand around his throat and hums, "You're mine." It's not a question, because there is no question. Billy is his. He says so, over and over, until Steve is satisfied that whatever force of nature lives under Billy's skin is still on a leash. Just for him.

Thanks for the ask!

[firstelevens]

for Spotify wrapped prompts: Bake-Off AU (duh!!!) + 🎵#19, maybe??

19. Dearly Departed - Shakey Graves ft. Esmé Patterson

In spite of the fact that she's the one calling him, Daisy looks absolutely baffled when Sam answers her video call.

"Why are you sitting in a truck in the dark?"

"Did I hallucinate the texts I sent you a minute ago? Didn't I just explain this to you?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you were serious," Daisy says, frowning at her phone. "Shouldn't you be at home with Bucky? Don't you guys literally count down the seconds until you get to be in the same city again?"

"That was one time, Daisy, and it was a very specific-" Sam trails off at the look that she gives him. "We had a fight."

"You're always fighting."

"I don't mean we had a silly argument over something; I mean we had a fight."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Was it serious?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

For a long time, Daisy is quiet, looking in the direction of what Sam can only assume is Daniel, doing something in the kitchen that carries the sound of clinking plates and cutlery across the room to where Daisy sits.

"I don't mean to be pushy," she finally says, "or to repeat myself, but Sam...why are you sitting in a truck in the dark?"

"We literally just-"

"No, I'm asking why you're sitting in a truck in the dark instead of going home to talk to Bucky."

Sam sighs. "I'm pulled up in front of the house."

"Sam."

"I've been here for a while; I just can't make myself go in. I keep thinking, what if we had all these almosts and then we spent a year scrambling for time together and this is how it ends because that wasn't enough? Daisy, what if this is it?"

"Don't let it be," says Daisy. "And don't tell me you don't have that power, because I know you do."

"But how do-"

"I don't know how, but I know it's not happening in the truck. Go inside, Sam," she says, and hangs up before he can argue.

Daisy isn't above texting Bucky to inform him that Sam is sitting in his own driveway in the dark like a creep, so it's pure concern for his own dignity that sends Sam towards the front door.

Bucky's back is to him when he comes in, but Sam doesn't think for a second that Bucky doesn't know he's there: his whole body goes still, like he's braced for catastrophe and doesn't want to set anything off by flinching at the wrong moment.

Sam gently presses the door shut and tosses his keys in the dish by the door, toeing off his shoes and making his way to the kitchen. Bucky still hasn't turned around.

Now that he's closer, Sam can see that he's pressing focaccia into a pan, the sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt sliding down his arm and getting perilously close to dipping into the herb-flecked dough. Wordlessly, Sam reaches over and pushes up Bucky's right sleeve, folding the cuff over a couple times so it stays up and out of his way.

Bucky relaxes into Sam's touch, canting a little bit in his direction without even lifting his eyes from the pan.

On a hunch, Sam takes a risk and rests his chin on Bucky's shoulder, peering down at the two square pans of dough in front of them. "If these are apology focaccias," he says, "you have to let me go first, because there's no way I can follow freshly baked bread."

For a moment, Bucky is still stiff as a board, but when he finally lets himself lean into Sam's warmth, Sam feels something slot back into place in the center of his chest.

"It's not apology focaccia," Bucky says quietly.

"Oh," says Sam, trying to take it into stride. He'd just been so certain that--

"The bread is for dinner," Bucky continues. "But there's an apology pie in the fridge right now that's definitely gonna be a tough act to follow, so I'll let you go first anyway."

Put a number 1-100 in my inbox along with a ship/character (or an AU) and I will write you a microfic.

[phantom-curve]

68 for the spotify fic asks if ur still doing them please

68. If You Want To by beabadoobee

oh man oh man okay. this would be an Avatrice fic and it would probably be focused around when Bea and Ava first get to Switzerland and the whole bed situation plays out. I like to imagine that Bea would have been v flustered to realize they only had one bed and obviously would have been the one to be like "okay Ava you take the bed and I'll take the couch/floor/bathtub/literally anywhere else because Propriety™️" to which Ava was probably like "Bea seriously it's fine let's just share the bed" and Bea would refuse with some silly dumb reason and Ava would just be like "okay whatever, if you insist but you can change your mind whenever and we'll share the bed" but the thing is Ava desperately wants Beatrice to share the bed with her. and not because she's definitely more-than-crushing on the sister warrior but also because she isn't sleeping well. and by that she means she isn't really sleeping at all. every time she closes her eyes she sees Adriel crawling out of that rubble or Mary getting swarmed by wraiths or she feels like she she's trapped in the wall again with the comms down and Beatrice too far away to hear her or help her and she's alone and paralyzed just like she was in the orphanage. she just doesn't want to say anything and pressure Beatrice and freak her out or force her to do something that would make her uncomfortable. but after a few nights Bea notices that Ava isn't sleeping and worse, when she does sleep it's fitful and plagued with nightmares and it's her job to protect Ava and she can't do that properly from the couch/floor/bathtub so a slightly awkward and stilted conversation ensues in which Bea attempts to ask if Ava would like her to sleep in the bed and Ava attempts to lie and finally Beatrice admits she wants to sleep in the bed and Ava is like "okay Bea but only if you want to" so Bea does, and another layer of her walls crumbles away in the middle of the night and when they wake up, both of them finally having slept peacefully, they don't comment on the limbs intertwined or the way they're breathing in sync or the shift that's happened literally overnight. but it grows from there on out, and they don't spend another night apart, not even when they leave the alps.

Send me a number between 1 and 101 and I'll tell you what fic I would write based on the corresponding song from my Spotify Wrapped playlist!

[jmrothwell]

Fic Ideas. . .for maybe someday

Just compiling my spotify wrapped song fic answers, just in case I ever have the time/energy to pursue them. 

Lobby: Open Ocean merman pining for Music and a Sailor

Dystopian AU: Found Family 

Anonymous high school penpals: strangers/friends to lovers (multiple ships)

Mature Bobby misplaced feelings & willex or flarrie club meet and makeout

.

(Here’s the original post by michelangelinden if you’re interested, it’s really fun)

[mooncat457writing]

Spotify asks for number....13!

Okay, so technically I already wrote a fic at least loosely based on this song (I took a line from the song to use as a title since the theme fit the fic really well), so I’ll just drop that here:

I’ll Be Yours in a Landslide

The song is kind of about past relationships not going well and going through the process of accepting that and healing from it. The title is a reference to being on the border of something, like a feeling of uncertainty (I went into a deep rabbit hole reading interviews with the guy from Novo Amor earlier this year, if you can’t tell by this and the previous ask).

So I wrote a Lie Low at Lupin’s. I really wanted to capture the uncertainty Sirius and Remus must have felt being reunited. How awkward it must have been seeing how they were ripped apart from each other in the war. But I wanted to also capture the feeling of the last line in the song (I’ll be yours in a landslide), which felt hopeful to me. Like despite it not working out in the past, they wanted to make it work in the future. It felt very canon(ish) Wolfstar to me.

I say “ish” because in the fics universe, Sirius doesn’t die in OOTP. I have plans for a sequel following their relationship through OOTP and it loosely exists in the same universe as my still unfinished lightning era fix-it fic that’s is masquerading as a George Weasley/OC fic. But that’s probably a post for another time 😅

But for the purposes of this ask game though, I’ll take a neighboring song (number 12):

For this one, I’d probably write a wedding. When I was researching ceremony music for my wedding last year, this song was on the list and I fell in love with it (and subsequently Vance Joy. The Wolfstar bodyguard fic is basically being fueled by the music of Vance Joy). My husband doesn’t understand my love of Vance Joy, so we ended up going with a different song for the wedding, but now this song is solidly a wedding song in my head.

My instinct is a Wolfstar wedding, but I feel like I should mix it up a bit, so maybe Deamus? I see it being a few years after the war. Seamus was the one to propose first, but I can totally see it being one of those “wait, no I was going to do it,” situations and Dean pulled out a ring, too. They’d have a small wedding, something in a backyard, just friends and immediate family. For some reason, Luna is officiating. I don’t really know why, but I can totally see Luna being that friend that just officiates all of her friends’ weddings.

Send me a number, and I’ll tell you the fic I would write based on that song in my Spotify Wrapped.

[kaiijo]

LOVER — RORONOA ZORO

roronoa zoro + i take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover content: gn! reader

request a character and prompt for my spotify wrapped event here!

dinners between pirate crews don’t usually occur since your alliances are fragile and you’re all prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. but given the collaboration between the strawhats pirates, the heart pirates, and the kid pirates, it’s safe to say that you’re all a bit more reassured that no one’s about to slice someone’s head off.

you accept another glass of wine from robin as usopp rambles on about how he took out at least thirty marines in your latest high-sea tussle. across the table, zoro snorts and gives you a dead-eyed stare that has you giggling behind your cup. 

you and zoro have been dating for quite some time, having begun only a few weeks after you joined luffy’s crew. neither of you have been inclined to tell the rest of your friends in order to avoid merciless teasing as well as mitigating the damage should your relationship go south. if it does, only the two of you will know about it and stew over it — the least amount of risk, you both agreed.

franky glugs down another stein of beer, laughing jovially, “alright, alright, i’ve got an idea!”

“oh? and what’s that?” robin asks, resting a hand on her chin. 

“let’s play a game. gotta spice things up!”

“hey!” usopp protests. “my stories are super spicy!”

“yeah, right,” kid snickers, “they’re also lies.”

usopp glares and is about to retort but franky beats him to the punch, saying, “truth or dare!”

“really?” deadpans law. “isn’t that for kids?”

“aww, you need to loosen up, cap!” shachi says, nudging law. “i’m down.”

franky says, “i’m sure everyone knows the rules. only thing is if you refuse to answer a truth or do a dare, you drink!”

luffy perks up. “yeah, alright! that sounds like fun! zoro! zoro! truth or dare?”

your boyfriend smirks. “dare. do your worst.” 

“i dare you to eat one of your swords.”

zoro’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “no way!”

“gotta drink then,” you say to him. 

“not a problem.” zoro lifts his stein to his mouth and you watch with appreciation as his bicep flexes and bulges under the tight t-shirt he’s wearing. he easily chugs down his beer, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 

zoro dares sanji to throw out his collection of dirty magazines that he found under sanji’s bed; sanji asks nami who she would date if she could date any crew member (“ew, none of you.”); nami gets bepo to perform one of uta’s songs and bepo asks franky what’s the best kept secret he’s held from you all. 

franky smirks at law and says, “alright, law, truth or dare.”

“truth.”

“if you could hook up with anyone on the deck, who would it be?”

law frowns at the question and you’re sure he’s going to drink instead but when he says your name, the ship erupts into chaos. nami and ikkaku elbow you, their grins suggestive and encouraging; sanji glares at law; shachi, penguin, and bepo gape; and kid and luffy howl with laughter. you sit there in stunned silence, your face on fire, and you can’t look at law.

you chance a peek at zoro and find that, in all the ensuing chaos, he’s nowhere to be found. you catch the door to the belly of the thousand sunny swinging closed and you immediately stand, heading downstairs. you ignore everyone’s questioning shouts in favor of searching for your boyfriend. 

“zoro?” you call. “zoro!”

you wander the halls for a few minutes, checking the kitchen, the men’s quarter, the gym. you find him quickly, though, inside the energy room. he’s sitting on a crate, expression sour, and you plop down next to him. “you okay?” you ask.

“i’m fine.” 

you study him — his profile, the slope of his nose and the sharpness of his jaw, the way the low light of the room makes his tan skin look golden. you sit quietly with him for a few moments, listening to the engine of the ship run. zoro holds himself rigidly, unnervingly still, but you can feel the irritation rolling off of him, can still see the tension in his body. 

you reach over, brushing your hand against his brow to smooth out the furrow. he looks over at you, still scowling but a little less intensely now. you say, “i’m guessing what law said bothered you.”

he shrugs. you sigh, “it’s just a game, zoro. i’m sure he didn’t even mean it, probably said the first name he thought of.”

zoro grunts derisively, “he definitely meant it. look at you.”

you can’t help the pleased feeling the rushes through you but you don’t let it show as you let your hand fall to his shoulder. “it’s just a game. doesn’t mean anything.”

“yeah,” zoro says. there’s a beat and then he says, “i hate hidin’ this.”

“really?” you can’t hide your surprise. zoro’s the one who initially brought up keeping this from everyone.

“i’m sick of it,” he says. “sick of the fuckin’ love cook always saying shit to you. i hate when guys flirt with you and i can’t fuckin’ do anything because the rest of the damn crew is there and luffy’s makin’ me watch his scarf down twenty plates of roast beef.”

you snicker at the memory, which pulls a small smile at of zoro. you rest your head against his shoulder and he mutters, “hate that the fuckin’ doctor said you.”

“we could tell them, you know. i think it’s okay now.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you say. “i’m, like, super in love with you so you’re stuck with me.”

zoro snorts, “yeah, yeah. love you too.”

“are you ready to endure all the teasing from franky, robin, and nami?”

“for you, yeah.”

you tilt your head up and kiss his jaw. zoro grins, leaning down to catch your mouth with his. 

When you break apart, you ask him, “I would’ve placed money on you going to the gym. Why’d you come here?”

“Oh. I got lost.”

“You two okay?” asks robin as you and zoro resurface. the game seems to have finished and everyone’s back to drinking and chatting, though they all turn to you when they hear robin.

“yeah, we’re good,” you tell her. “we actually have something to tell you.”

“what is it?” nami asks.

“we’re together,” zoro says. “have been for a while.” and then, unexpectedly, zoro’s arm wraps around your hip and pulls you close.

the ship erupts into the chaos again with you and zoro in the middle. somewhere among all the yelling and gasping, law taps your shoulder and apologizes, which you wave off with an easy smile and zoro gives a firm nod.

nami shakes her head. “i can’t believe you two kept this from us!” and then, she turns to you. “zoro? really? you could do so much better.”

you wind yours arms around zoro’s waist, crushing him in a sideways hug. “nope, i don’t think so. he’s all mine!” 

nami gags and robin smiles calmly. “i’ve always known.”

you and zoro stare at her. “what?”

[icedb1ackcoffee]

Corrupted by Design CH 1 | Feyd-Rautha x Reader

After generations of pillaging and destroying their ecosystem, you are assigned by the Emperor to work on with the Harkonnens to improve their planet’s agriculture as Imperial Ecologist. However, Giedi Prime is far from welcoming, and you must fight to survive the horrors you endure at the hands of the Harkonnens. When you catch the eye of the Baron’s youngest nephew, and most prized possession, you step into a world complicated by politics and revenge.

Tags: Unbeta'd, AFAB Reader, multiple OCs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, enemy to friends to lovers/enemy lovers, slow burn, fake science, blood, violence, gore, body horror, cannibalism, uncle/nephew incest (implied), eventual smut, etc.

A/N: I’ve never read the books, so this is a combination of the Villeneuve films, the Dune Wiki, and a heavy dose of just making shit up lol. I try my best to make Reader as nondescript as possible, but there are mentions of having periods and body hair in later chapters. As a warning up front, this will not have a Happily Ever After ending, but maybe more like Happy For Now?

Please mind the tags; this is very dark, but that comes with the territory.

Chapter One: Like Meat (Spoiled)

Previous Chapter ⦾ Next Chapter

When you first arrived at Giedi Prime, nothing could have adequately prepared you for the shock the harsh environment brought. 

Approaching the planet, dark, heavy clouds of pollution choked its atmosphere, seen even from your descent into the atmosphere. Any hope you’d had on your mission here began to wither as you saw the goliath manufacturing plants and landfills that scarred the horizon on all sides. Even the advanced Sardakaur technology on this ship couldn’t soften the harsh winds. Could this be the reason why they accepted you— a last-ditch effort to salvage whatever was left of this godforsaken planet…?

When you landed, you rose unsteadily to your feet and grabbed your luggage. Two large bags and one satchel tied at your waist. The rest unloaded off the ship, full of your tools and plants. Your entire life packed away, always ready for the next move. An escort accompanied you off ship, the rest staying inside. Not that you would blame them; if it was not required of you, you would not leave, either.

Read More

[natandwandaseries]

We need Spotify wrapped but for fanfiction

[wolfiemcwolferson]

hey logaaaaan💖 i'm here to request a fic for number 16!!

Hi Justi babe,

This song is uh, not what I would normally write as a prompt, because it’s not exactly. Happy. BUT, I’ll give it a hopeful ending.

Pierre moves back in with his parents.

It’s not like he’s got a choice.

He was barely making ends meet living with Lance - with Lance and his stupid money paying most of their overpriced, overinflated rent and Pierre’s entire life really while Pierre dumped EVERYTHING into traveling and promotions and last minute club nights.

Because Lance believed in him and he loved him.

And yeah, no one expected the two of them to last - not even Pierre - but, he hadn’t expected the two of them to go out like THAT.

Pierre can’t think about it too long or he starts to feel nauseous. And he can’t think about the impossible trek he’ll have to make from fucking Sacramento into the city so he can still DJ at the few nights he’s managed to secure in advance.

He’s decidedly not thinking about it now, standing in line at the grocery store down the street with an armful of last minute things his mom needed for their dinner party, trying not to feel like a loser while he clutches the 40 dollars she slipped him.

He can’t even pay for some whole grain mustard and some lemons and a bottle of wine.

It’s shameful and ridiculous and he is burning alive with the need to…go.

To burn off this rage. This nastiness that he’s feeling towards his friends in the city. The bubble under his skin that dancing or DJing or fucking would release.

Instead, he’s watching a cashier move slower than the melting glaciers and clutching a bottle of wine.

“Pierre?”

Pierre is lucky he doesn’t die on the spot because that voice…

“Pierre,” he says again, as Pierre turns towards the voice to find Charles behind him, smiling in that brilliant way he does, already moving around the side of his own cart - a cart piled high with fresh vegetables and normal person food - reaching out to hug Pierre.

Pierre desperately wants to hug him, but Charles sees all of Pierre’s armful of groceries and he laughs, bright and high, shifting to tug the wine from his grip, placing it in his own cart.

“I did not know you were in town,” Charles says, taking the mustard from him too. “I just had dinner with you mom two weeks ago and she was talking about you getting booked into this festival in Ibiza.”

He says Ibiza like his mom does. Eeeeeebeeeeezah. Pierre finds, in the face of it - in the face of Charles - his oldest friend, the person who went to prom with him, the guy he thought was lost to him after that drunken hookup during Pierre’s freshman year of college - he doesn’t mind so much.

“Cha,” Pierre hands him the mustard, “you look -“

Charles laughs as he throws himself into Pierre’s arms. “All grown up?” He asks in Pierre’s ear, “or were you going to tell me how beautiful I look now?”

He pulls away and bats his eyelashess and Pierre throws his head back and laughs.

“Well, I am grown up.” Charles says, pinching the skin of Pierre’s wrist.

They stare at each other.

Pierre has so much he should say.

He should apologize for what happened between them. He should ask why Charles was having dinner with Pierre’s Pascale. He should ask what Charles is doing in Sacramento when last he heard, he was in San Diego.

But Charles reaches over again, soothes his thumb over where he just pinched Pierre, and Pierre stares down at the contact.

“I know your mom is doing that dinner party thing tonight,” and then he says softer, “but I’d like to see you while you’re in town.”

Pierre looks up at him. At his blush. At his eyes.

“Catch up.”

Pierre shouldn’t.

But.

“If you drop me by my parents, I’ll run this stuff in and then we could -“

“Yes,” Charles cuts him off and then Pierre watches as the blush deepens. “I can’t promise my cooking is near as good as your mom’s but -“

Pierre has to fish his bottle of wine from Charles’ basket because the conveyor belt now has space for his items.

“I’d love to catch up.”

Pierre smiles at him. “I’d love to catch up too, Cha.”

[imsodishy]

Steve x billy 47

Eternal Flame

Prom continues to be lame, year after year. If anything, the consistency is comforting.

Chaperoning may not be much cooler than kind-of-sort-of third wheeling your ex, but at least it's less awkward for everyone involved.

Steve does not miss being a teenager.

It's amazing how little the moves have changed in the past decade, Steve's already confiscated two flasks tonight, and it’s not even 10 o'clock. He has to believe (for his own pride if nothing else) that he was less obvious to his own teachers, back in his heyday of spiking punch bowls. But probably not.

Mr. Hargrove comes in from the hall ushering a group of grumpy looking girls with clumpy mascara in front of him. He shoos them on into the gym and then post himself up near the doors, arms crossed, looking about as grumpy as the girls.

Steve drifts that way, keeping one eye on the punch. "What was that about?" he asks once they're leaning shoulder to shoulder, Mr. Hargrove likewise keeping his eyes on the kids.

Mr. Hargrove, Billy, it's only been Billy for a minute, snorts like a bull when he’s annoyed. It's cute.

"Someone wore pink when they promised they were going to wear yellow." Billy says, with enough gravity for a world ending disaster, "The pictures are going to be a total disaster, apparently."

Steve chuckles, "Yeah, don't miss being a teenager at all." Billy laughs too.

The Bangles starts playing over the speakers, "Bit of a throwback," Steve says. Billy just mhmms. "Did you have fun at your prom?"

"Well," he starts, and his eyes scanning the gym get a little more pointed for a moment, before he leans slightly towards Steve and murmurs barely loud enough for just Steve to hear him over the plinky-plonky music, "I had to go with a girl, so not really, no."

"Mine sucked too. But, uh," Steve executes his own scan and lean, "Maybe we can make up for lost time." Then, super smooth and subtle, flashes the inside pocket of his jacket at Billy, where the confiscated flasks sit.

Billy tosses his head back to laugh, full and loud, and Steve can maybe imagine them both at eighteen for a second. "Oh great," he says, "What's in there? Peppermint schnapps?"

"No!" Steve crows, "Peach, I think."

[firstelevens]

LEFT FIELD REQUEST: Phryne and Jack, #63

(or if that's all just too long ago and you can't call them up, then Aramis and Anne, #4)

Sylvia I love you so much but Phryne and Jack are IMPOSSIBLE to write so Anne and Aramis will have to suffice, alas.

4. At Last - Etta James

It's strange, after so many years of the Musketeers being at her beck and call, but Anne simply can't get used to having Aramis so near.

She knew, on some level, what it meant to make him First Minister: Treville had been the Crown's right hand as long as he'd served, Richelieu before him, neither of them had ever been far when they were needed. Still, it seems that every meeting with her advisors leads to a meeting with her First Minister, and while there's nothing untoward happening--indeed it's impossible to imagine how anyone might find time to be untoward, given all the treaties and diplomatic letters that fill their time together--she still finds herself blushing like a young girl as she makes her way down the halls to her more private meeting rooms.

The only thing to do is to blame Aramis. After all, she's fairly certain nobody told him to smile so warmly when he bows and greets her with a soft, "Your Majesty." Nonetheless, he does it every time, and every time, Anne's pulse quickens. If she doesn't get in the habit of it soon, her heart is liable to beat out of her chest at an advisory meeting, and then what will happen?

And if she can't get in the habit of him simply doing his job around the palace, how will she ever get used to the sight of him late at night, slipping into her chambers with the stealth of a trained soldier and the sweet grin that their son shares?

(It will take a lifetime of practice, she decides, and applies herself to it at once.)

Put a number 1-100 in my inbox along with a ship/character (or an AU) and I will write you a microfic.

[tom-whore-dleston]

for the event how about snooze with steven grant <3333 they just fit so perfectly together !!

Snooze

Pairing: Steven Grant x f. reader

Word Count: 1.5k

This fic contains: fluff, neighbors to lovers, insomnia, meet cute scenario, confessions, kissing, corny play on lyrics of Snooze

Summary: You are the main constant that helps combat Steven’s insomnia. This night, things are a little bit different.

Notes: omg Sil you are so right about how Snooze is Steven-coded!! Thank you bb for the request and I hope you enjoy 🥰🫶🏽 Thank you to @potatothots for beta reading and sharing your insight 🩷

Spotify Wrapped 2023 challenge | send a request here

Steven glared at the blue squares of his Rubik's Cube. It had been the third time he solved the three dimensional puzzle since the moon illuminated the night sky. The toy tumbled into his lap as Steven’s groggy eyes flickered towards the shimmering sphere that tauntingly gazed back at him. 

The classical record that was meant to aid his sleep came to an end. Steven lost track of how many times he played that record. When his insomnia began many moons ago, the record did wonders for his sleep. Now, it basically is a broken record because of how often he played it at night.

Yet, there was one constant that always helped him fall asleep. And that was you.

You were new to the apartment complex and moved in right next to Steven. The way you both met was one for the books. Your flat mate was running late for work due to lack of sleep from the night before. He rushed out the door, struggling into his coat. Without realizing, his shoelaces dragged carelessly across the floor. Steven, as clumsy as he was, crashed into you carrying a box of clothes, and you both fell to the floor.

The British man’s eyes widened. “Oh my- I am terribly sorry! Are you alright?” His eyes widened even more after one glance upon your beauty.

You sat up chuckling, unaware of his gawking. “No need for apologies. I am perfectly fine.” Then, you noticed the items scattered on the floor.  “Although, I’m not too sure about the pile of clothes.” The man mirrored your movements as you crawled towards an article of clothing.

“Allow me to help you ma’am,” Steven began tossing shirts and sweaters into the box. As you reached for your favorite scarf, a strong hand slightly brushed against yours. You stared into each other's eyes, smiling softly. You could have sworn you saw a twinkle in his brown eyes.

“Oh heavens, I am late for work!” He checked the time on his watch and began to panic. “I missed my bus, too!”

“Perhaps I can take you to work?” You helped him to his feet, and your cheeks grew hot as he began to tower over you.

“Oh no, I-“

“It’s okay. I want to.” You paused. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” 

Steven unclenched his jaw and let out a quick laugh. “Thank you ma’am! I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.”

“It’s my pleasure…” your voice dropped upon realizing you didn’t know the name of the British man before you.

“Steven. Steven Grant.”

It was a typical late Saturday night when you arrived at your apartment complex. Your watch peeked through your cuffed long sleeve, catching a glimpse of the time. 

3:00. That was a record time for the latest you came home from a shift at the local bar. Your body, especially your legs, yearned to crash into the coziness of your bed and sleep until the sun was at its peak in the sky. As you approached the door to your apartment, you stopped in your tracks after meeting your neighbor’s hazy eyes.

“Steven?”

The gentleman in question half smiled. “Hello, darling.” 

“Rough night?” You interrogated knowingly. Steven nodded with closed eyes.

You fumbled your key into the lock for a moment before opening the door and stepping to the side. “C’mon in. I’ll make us some tea.”

Steven walked into your apartment and headed towards your couch, as he had done many nights before. He wrapped himself in the blanket you knitted yourself as you fixed a pot of tea. The blanket smelled like you, which always brought him a sense of comfort. A kind of comfort he couldn’t find in his own home. In fact, Steven couldn’t remember the last time he felt any sense of security before meeting you.

“You really fancy that blanket, huh?” You giggled, admiring how adorable he looked being swaddled in your own creation. The day you moved in, you decided to knit a blanket to combat your boredom. Once it was finished, you didn’t dare touch it as you were too afraid it would get ruined. The first night you welcomed Steven into your apartment, he was immediately fascinated with the blanket that he cozied onto your couch bundled in the blanket before falling into the best sleep he had in a while.

“I do, indeed. It helped me sleep when I had no other way of falling asleep.” Steven peered down at the wooly fabric, tracing over the patterns as if his next words were hidden between the stitches.

“Well, I’m happy to have helped you in a subliminal way.” The rest of your surroundings blurred as Steven became the focus of your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat as the dim light in your living room accented his structured face and wavy dark locks. Even with the blanket draped over his frame, his plain white t-shirt did little to hide his muscular arms and broad shoulders.

The abrupt screech of the kettle caused you to jolt and you quickly turned off the stove to avoid the sound reaching your other sleeping neighbors. After steeping chamomile bags in two separate cups, you joined Steven on the couch, leaving a respectful distance between the two of you. You handed him a mug and he gingerly peeled it from your grip. Your teeth gritted together as his soft fingers brushed against yours. Steven frowned, noticing your shift in demeanor.

“You cold, darling?” He shimmied out of the blanket, letting it fall to his waist.

“It’s okay, it’s no big deal-” Suddenly, Steven scooted next to you before throwing the blanket over both of your laps with one hand. It was the smoothest thing you had ever witnessed, you forgot how to breathe in that moment. 

“There we are. It wouldn’t be right of me to hog all of your blanket.” You couldn't help but laugh. Without further thought, you and Steven simultaneously sipped your cups of tea, the hot beverage instantly calming your mind and muscles. Steven hummed happily as the tea warmed his body. Yet, he was still wide awake.

The grandfather clock that stood strong in your living room ticked loudly to fill the silence of the room. It glared dauntingly into your and Steven’s souls as you drank your tea while avoiding each other’s gazes. The pendulum swung from side to side as if waiting for one of you to make a move. As Steven drank the last drop of tea, he was left with no other choice but to break the silence.

“You know something, love?” You suddenly became more interested in Steven as you set the mug on your coffee table. “Ever since I met you, things have changed.”

“I hope it’s a good kind of change.”

Steven peered down, smiling softly. “Yeah, it was. For starters, you have really helped me combat this insomnia. I couldn’t tell you about the last time I had a good night’s sleep.” Your lips curled into a dopey grin, and your skin grew hot. Yet neither the tea nor the blanket contributed to the warm feeling inside you. 

“Then, there is your kindness. No one has been as nice as you have been to me so it feels reassuring to know there’s still good people out there. You are also extremely bold. To move all the way from across the pond is…It’s brave. You’ve done all the things I’m scared to do.” He rambled on and on but one thing reeled in your attention. “To tell you the truth, I’m quite smitten with you, love.” 

“Steven…” You were at a loss for words. Your heart skipped a beat after learning he felt the same way about you. 

“Forgive me if I am too forward, but-”

“No, not at all. In fact, I feel the same way towards you.” Your hands met in the middle of the blanket, bringing you back to the moment your hands first touched outside your doors. This time, the spark between you two was much stronger.

“Can I kiss you, love?” 

“I thought you would never ask.”

Steven laughed before cupping your face with his large hands and pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and sweet yet full of passion. It reminded you of a flame so bright you couldn’t help but reach out and touch it because you knew it wouldn’t hurt or scar you. Your lips molded together like a sculptor forming the greatest piece that’ll be admired for centuries to come. Time froze as your lips danced in unison and space ceased to exist around you and between you. 

Losing sleep was the last thing on Steven’s mind. For how could he lose when he was with you? Sleep will eventually find its way back to him. He couldn’t snooze and miss the moment of you and him in each other’s embrace.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Steven Grant Masterlist

header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness

[phantom-curve]

oops meant to do two of them in the same ask lolol also 40 for the spotify wrapped game!

40. Hard Wired by Shakey Graves

this has avatrice written all over it sorry not sorry I am obsessed with my ass kicking nuns ANYWAY ahem. this would probably be a very sappy/soft character study or reflection from Beatrice (possibly after the events of the S2 finale which I will not spoil in the half-hearted hope that you might eventually watch this show) but it would basically revolve around the fact that no matter what, in spite of everything she's ever been told by her parents and the church and the rest of the world, loving Ava was always meant to be her destiny. it's hard wired into her very being. she couldn't have escaped it if she tried, and Ava made it very hard to want to try in the first place. and it's the exact opposite of everything she had been told. it's beautiful and perfect and pure and powerful and also devastating but she wouldn't ever let it go. she wouldn't change it or give it up for anything. Ava is the only thing she's ever believed in like this, the only thing she puts her faith in now. she's utterly devoted to her, in this life and the next.

Send me a number between 1 and 101 and I'll tell you what fic I would write based on the corresponding song from my Spotify Wrapped playlist!

[lihhelsing]

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Stiles tried to keep a neutral face but the annoyance blooming on Derek’s expression was enough to make him pop a grin. 

“I hate you,” Derek said even though he didn’t mean it. Or at least Stiles hoped he didn’t mean it otherwise the fact that they were dating for almost a year now would be very weird. 

“But can I?” 

Derek huffed, “yes.”

“Do you think I’m cute?” 

Derek rolled his eyes and walked away before Stiles could stop him. 

-

“Can I ask you a question?” 

There was no smiling this time. No mischievous laughter alongside the question. The question so he could ask a question. The infinite loop of everything that scared Stiles.

Derek wouldn’t meet his eyes. Stiles knew why. Knew Derek’s girlfriend was close by, standing by the cheese table chatting with a friend as Stiles watched his heart beat outside of his body in the shape of a grumpy man. 

Stiles didn’t mean to bump into Derek like that. He had no idea Derek and whatshername would be there at the party. But looking back at it, he should’ve known. He should’ve felt the dread filling up his body as he made his way into the party hearing the telltale laugh of the man whose heart he’d broken.

“Yes,” Derek said, eyes glued on the floor.

“Are you happy?” 

Derek walked away, the silence of Stiles’ unanswered question almost too much to bear. 

-

“Can I-“

“Shut up,” Derek was looking ahead, hands wrapped around Stiles’ waist as if it was nothing. 

“But Derek I-“ 

“You’re drunk so you should keep your mouth shut.” 

Stiles had never in his life kept his mouth shut. Asking permission to ask a question, any question, was just an excuse to talk even more. To see the false annoyance on Derek’s face and know it was nothing more than pure affection. At least it was.

“I still have questions,” Stiles huffed. Maybe he really was drunk. 

“Of course you do.”

“You can’t stop me.” 

“Of course I can’t,” Derek replied, sounding more resigned than annoyed. 

Derek stopped moving and he propped Stiles’ body against a wall. The party was still in full swing outside this dark room and Stiles was feeling brave, especially with Derek’s hands around him. 

“Do you love her?”

Derek didn’t reply but it was like Stiles could feel him rolling his eyes.

“Stiles…” 

“Derek.” 

Derek sighed. “The answer is not what you think it is.”

Stiles frowned, confused. 

“Do you still wanna be with her?” 

“Fuck me.”

Stiles felt Derek’s grip tightening around his waist. Felt Derek take an impossible step closer until his chest was pressed against his. 

“Derek, can I-“

“Just ask the right question, Stiles.” 

Stiles’ head was spinning. He was definitely drunk and he didn’t even know there was a right question to be asked. He was just being annoying. Just trying to get Derek’s attention away from that girl and back to him. He had been scared, back then. Of how intense their relationship was. Of how his silly high school crush had become the man of his dreams right before his eyes. Of how everyone was always saying Derek and Stiles were a bad idea up until the moment Derek and Stiles started to seem like a good idea. A perfect one. 

Stiles had been scared of how serious everything felt all of a sudden.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Stiles wasn’t sure why that was the question that popped into his head. He wasn’t sure he was the right one and for a second he thought he was too drunk for this. He felt Derek’s hands leaving his waist and thought that was it. He was done for. 

But then Derek’s hands were cupping his face instead and Derek was close. Too close. 

“What do you think?” Derek asked. 

“Thought I was the one asking questions,” Stiles replied, delighted to see the roll of Derek’s eyes. That meant Derek had come back from his indifference to the affectionate annoyance. 

“She’s my cousin, Stiles.”

Stiles’ world tilted. Then went back to its rightful place. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Will you kiss me, then?” 

Derek huffed but he was smiling. He was pleased. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Stiles’. It was soft and chaste but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity everywhere on his body. Stiles let his hands wrap around Derek so he could pull him close. 

There were still too many questions he wanted to ask, but for now, he would keep his mouth busy with what really mattered. 

Written for the Spotify Wrapped challenge with the song Question...? by Taylor Swift for @bleedingoptimism (ily)

You can submit yours too!

[mooncat457writing]

ooh! spotify wrapped ask, number…24

Okay, so from the title and this line in the chorus:

I miss my friends that I pretend I don't need But I could have done with them this week

My first instinct is obviously something about Halloween 1981, and since the song is basically about the songwriter having a shitty Halloween, I feel like that fits.

I rarely write pure angst, so I would go a more bittersweet route. Maybe a canon-divergent Wolfstar raising Harry and missing their dearly departed friends on the anniversary of their death.

Send me a number, and I'll tell you the fic I would write based on that song in my Spotify Wrapped.