#fanfic previews

[everybody-scream-fxck]

FANFIC PREVIEW - I Am The Only Thing Inside Of You That You Cannot Control - Coffinshipping

I just really wanted to share a bit from a coffinshipping fic I'm working on right now. Yay for evidence room quickies. I don't have a specific timeline for this, it just kind of Exists.

It's vaguely NSFW but they're still wearing clothes. I need to get back to this fic. Under a cut for length dick mention. This is also mostly unedited.

Strong hands wrapped around both of Peter's wrists, working them around until he could pin them to the wall palms out. The press of their bodies was tight, so much so that Peter swore that they would never be separated again. Even for the clothes keeping them from skin-on-skin contact, Peter felt the warmth radiating off of Mark, setting his blood on fire. It twisted in his veins, leaving him breathless but no less an active participant in the bruising kiss.

A gnarled, depraved desire scratched at his stomach with an intensity that would have worried a smarter man. A man who wasn't so involved with someone he deeply believed he should have hated; once upon a time he did hate. But the simple fact of the matter was that there was nothing even remotely similar to hate in his heart for Mark. 

Could he do wrong? Sure, maybe even of course. Did it put any kind of damper in the way that Peter's stomach filled with soft, delicate wings when he was nearby? Did the need to surpass him, to do better, to be better make him falter in his need for him? Did his sharp tongue and quick temper have any bearing over the hard-on he ground forward, desperately, into the other man's hip?

The answer to all of these questions and more was a big, flashing, resounding no.

[my-dark-lord]

♥️

One ❤️ = One Sentence From Any WIP!

So this has been sitting in my askbox for a bit, I've just been busy and everywhere. BUT I finally got to this! I'll Rust With You is a Polyamorvee fic that I've been writing for comfort. It's sweet and just really domestic about the Vees doing cozy hobbies together.

---

Following Valentino into the kitchen as he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt, Vox paused to give Velvette a peck on the cheek.

[archangelmacaron]

Finish Your Fics February

Thank you for the tag @kiichu

Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Ask me about the fanfic WIP you want me to work on.

My mission: Write or edit five sentences for the the Asked-about fic and post them in the answer.

Here are your choices:

Published WIP

Accidents That Aren't (college AU) Unpublished but planning to be published WIP

Post rescue one shot (almost finished, but needs a little more polish)

Unpublished but maybe publishing IDK Horror/different choices AU

Unpublished and not planning to be published unless asked Fic with OCs I wrote to get out of writer's block which worked really well for a while Beach party Alternatively, Bully Encourage me into working on OC

Evelyn & Az part uh...4? idk Holly & D part 5 Rewrite Evelyn & Az progress (will not be shared yet) Rewrite Holly & D progress (will not be shared yet) that new thing you've kinda been toying with but are unsure of actually writing

Thanks if you participate!

[gimme-a-thrust]

Mammon for the send me and ask

Send Me A Ship Or Character And I Will Choose A Random Paragraph From A Random WIP I Have For Them To Post!

Oooh, alright! I’ve got a couple Mammon fics. Looks like the one that was chosen for this is Party Tricks! It’s the only Mamozzie fic I have started that didn’t have a preview up, so here we go!

---

It was likely that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. Of course, he did, he almost always had. Slowly, the tension eased out of his muscles and he closed his eyes, letting the other tilt his head. Those soft lips pressed into his neck and he gasped; it wasn’t quite a kiss but that didn’t mean that it didn’t light something inside of him. Hot breath fanned over his skin, and Mammon shifted a little bit, both towards and away from Ozzie at the same time. He swayed a couple more times as Ozzie’s hands grazed just barely over the leathery expanse of his wings, a gentle moan wrenching from him as his knees buckled. Even the ghosting of those claws over the sensitive membranes was enough to have him nearly off his feet, and he finally gulped audibly.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Truth spell, insults are lies if you don’t believe them - cursed Merlin, Arthur isn’t actually a dollophead

So it’s only a one shot with few thousand words, but basically Merlin gets cursed with a truth spell by a witch who was frustrated that Emrys hadn’t even told the once and future king that magic isn’t good or bad, it just is. He’s not compelled to say anything, his secrets are his own, but if he tries to lie the truth comes out.

They realise what the curse is when Arthur asks Merlin if he’s okay in his own way of insulting him and Merlin can only compliment him in return,

This is sort of the general vibe of it summed up in a bit of dialogue:

Arthur: Merlin, why the hell would you jump in front of a curse!

Merlin: I wasn't going to let you get hurt.

Arthur: You idiot! You’re not a knight!

Merlin, increasingly more passionately complimenting him as he tries and fails to insult him: Well you're a reckless good man and I care about you too much! I- I mean- you're a great king! You're smart and pretty!

(Arthur’s stood there looking shocked, unable to react, getting slightly flustered at being called pretty. Merlin realises there’s one insult that still works because it’s become a term of endearment for him)

Merlin: Prat! Haha! It works!

Merlin: You're a prat and I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt!

Merlin: Damnit! Why isn’t this working?!

Arthur, realising what’s happening, teasing: Why isn’t what working, Merlin?

Merlin: Calling you a kind hearted, too good, smart and talented golden kingly prat! I give up! *storms off into the woods*

Then there’s a confession, cute Merthur moments, and Arthur gets to learn about magic because Merlin needs to tell him the trr about it before the spell can be broken.

If anyone has any ideas for what I can name this, it’d be greatly appreciated. The titles are always the worst part of fics

[gldnstrngs]

a preview of my fic that i desperately need to finish:

“You see, I am betrothed,” Arthur said, making everyone look at him with wide eyes.

Lord Alaric blinked once. And then twice. He didn’t stop blinking after a few seconds. “My lord?” he questioned politely, glancing at the others.

There was a part of Arthur that wanted to laugh at their gobsmacked faces, but that wouldn’t be very kingly of him, so he cleared his throat with an assertive nod. He grabbed Merlin’s hand from his lap, feeling him stiffen slightly. Arthur squeezed it gently, stroking with his thumb. He then placed their interlocked hands on the table, so everyone could see. “I am to marry Lord Merlin.”

It was safe to say that there was a… range of reactions, if you will.

Morgana ended up staring at him and Merlin quietly, her eyes flicking back and forth between them to the point that it was even making Arthur’s eyes hurt. Gwen had let out a high-pitched sound through tight lips, doe eyes wide. Lancelot had promptly spat out his wine. Leon had done the opposite, chugging his wine from his goblet. Elyan solemnly slid over some gold coins to Gwaine, who had been smirking—and, okay, Arthur going to have to have a word with them about betting on their king—and pocketing his earnings. Percival had been teary-eyed, using a handkerchief to dab at his tears. Gaius stared at the couple with an intensely raised eyebrow, while Geoffrey had a hand to his heart in a way that Arthur couldn’t tell was heartfelt or scandalized. And Merlin was gripping onto Arthur’s hand, gaze boring onto the table and ears turning bright red.

update:

so i finally published it heheheh

[xomakara]

[PREVIEW] No Clue

Full Version is released! → Here!!

SUMMARY |  You're in love with Jaehyun, your best friend, but he has no clue. You have suffered in silence as you have watched him date countless of girls left and right. Graduation is coming up, and you are running out of time to tell him how you feel. Will he finally see that it should have been you all along, or will he break your heart forever? PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader GENRE |  college!student!Jaehyun, college!student!Reader, college au, friends to lovers trope, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex, (other things that might be added) RATING |  Mature LENGTH |  tbd (halfway there ya'll) TAGLIST | let me know if you'd like to be tagged for when I release this! AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Mama Linda is back and ready to feed you with neo food~ This is a small preview of the beginning of the story since I'm about half-way finished with it. 'Walk' comeback has literally fueled my loins and I've become feral for the neo men. Things might change from the preview and the final release, so please be aware of that! Much love 💚

You sat in the coffee shop, tables away from your best friend as you watched him flirt with that pretty girl he met at the latest NCT frat party. It was another girl this week, but you still hoped. You hoped he would turn and look at you. You hoped that he would see that it should be you.

It was never you.

He laughed at something she said and you sipped your tea. The hot liquid scalded your throat but you barely registered the pain, your eyes on Jaehyun, your heart shattering every single time he smiled at her. He would never smile at you like that. He would never look at you with those soft brown eyes.

And yet you continued to sit in the corner, watching, hoping, praying for something you could never have.

You got up and walked past them, ignoring Jaehyun's questioning glance. Your head was down as you pushed open the door and stepped out into the hot summer air.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet. The heels you wore were a nuisance today, and you kicked them off halfway through the walk, your feet now padding barefoot across the concrete. You could see a group of guys approaching and you sighed, picking up your pace. You didn’t want to have to talk to anyone.

The group stopped and turned towards you, calling out. You could hear their footsteps following and you bit back a curse.

“Y/N, seriously, are you listening to us?” One of the guys, Mark, said.

You slowed your pace and turned, plastering a smile on your face.

Mark stood before you, Taeyong, Johnny and Haechan close behind. You knew them from high school. You had been friends, and you had always found them attractive. But nothing, nothing, compared to how you felt about Jaehyun.

Your eyes drifted to the ground.

“Who made our girl cry?” Taeyong asked, wrapping his arms around you. He could see through your fake smile.

You couldn't help but relax into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He rubbed your back gently.

The others came forward and touched you gently, Mark taking one of your hands, Johnny placing a hand on your head, and Haechan standing beside you and taking your other hand.

You didn’t want to cry anymore.

They held you for a while, silent. They had known for years about how you felt about Jaehyun. You couldn’t count the number of times you had called Taeyong, crying and begging him to come and hold you, the number of times Johnny had taken you for coffee or to the cinema, anything to get you out of your apartment and away from the sight of Jaehyun with someone else. Mark had sat up with you late at night, watching bad romcoms and eating popcorn. Haechan had brought you a new book every single day since the start of university, and you knew that the reason you had done so well was because of him.

They helped you through your worst times. And here they were again.

You finally stepped back, looking up at them and wiping the last of the tears away.

“Another girl this time?” Haechan asked softly.

“The one Yuta introduced him to at the last frat party.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. "I've got all dolled up today thinking that something was different, that maybe today would be the day when he suddenly asked to meet me at the coffee shop alone. But I guess it was to introduce me to whatever her name was."

The boys stayed silent.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Johnny asked quietly.

You shook your head.

"He doesn't need to know. I'm okay." You sighed. "Besides, no matter how much I wear pretty clothes or put on makeup, or wear these stupid heels like always...he never looks my way. He never sees me. I must be ugly or something, I don't know."

"You are beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you." Haechan whispered.

"You guys are the best." You smiled and kissed their cheeks.

"Why don't we have a movie night? We can get pizza and snacks and just chill." Johnny smiled, linking his arm with yours.

"Drinks included?" You asked, your heart a little lighter than it had been a few moments ago.

"Of course." Mark laughed.

"And popcorn, lots of it." Taeyong grinned.

You walked with them back to your apartment, smiling and laughing at their jokes, letting yourself relax and forget about Jaehyun, at least for a little while.

Haechan opened your front door, grinning.

"Let's get wasted!" He whooped, making a beeline to the cabinet that you had stored all your drinks.

"Get some glasses." Mark laughed, following the younger boy.

You and Johnny made your way into the living room and dropped down onto the couch. Taeyong came back from the kitchen with plates and napkins, placing them on the table and sitting beside you.

Haechan and Mark carried all the drinks and snacks to the table and sat on the floor, sorting out the snacks.

You smiled, grateful for the four men in front of you. You would have gone mad without them.

The night was going well, you were sat between Taeyong and Johnny on the couch, leaning on Johnny and giggling as the film continued. Haechan was curled up on the other side of the couch, half asleep. Mark had disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a huge bowl of popcorn and settling on the floor next to Haechan.

Your phone buzzed and you frowned, looking down and seeing Jaehyun's name. You groaned and threw the phone to the other side of the couch, turning your attention back to the film.

"Don't you want to see what he wants?" Taeyong asked softly.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and took another sip of your drink. "He can go fuck himself."

"He's texted you like a hundred times already." Haechan frowned, holding the phone out to you.

"So?"

"Y/N, just look. It could be important."

You groaned and snatched the phone from him, opening the messages and rolling your eyes.

Jae: Are you mad at me?

Jae: Seriously, you can't ignore me forever. Please reply. What the fuck did I do wrong? You are my best friend, talk to me.

Jae: This is not fucking funny. What is wrong with you?

"What's wrong with me?" You looked away from your phone, letting out a frustrated sigh as you passed your phone to Mark.

"You want me to reply?" Mark asked.

"Nope. Just turn off my phone. I don't care how many messages he leaves me." You got up, downing your drink. "I'm going to get more alcohol."

"You are going to regret this in the morning." Johnny called.

"At this point, I don't fucking care. I'm done with this. He wants to date the whole world then that's up to him. Not my fault."

You stumbled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of vodka and poured a good amount into your cup, and making your way back to the guys. "I'll regret it later, but right now, I'm getting absolutely, fucking trashed."

The movie finished, and you had drunk more than enough alcohol to kill a horse.

You were lying on the couch, the others sitting around you.

"I don't want to be in love anymore. Why can't I stop?" You slurred, your eyes closed as you lay across the couch, your head on Johnny's lap and your feet in Haechan's.

"There will be someone else. Someone better." Johnny stroked your hair, smiling softly.

"I hope so. I really fucking do." You sighed.

You were drunk, you were sad, and you had cried a lot. But you were also tired.

And within minutes, you were asleep.

Jaehyun was worried. He had texted you, and called you. His texts went unanswered, his calls went straight to voicemail, and everyone else that was with you weren't answering his texts.

"What the fuck is going on with everyone tonight?" He muttered, throwing his phone onto his bed and falling onto the pillows.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering why you wouldn't talk to him. He had seen you walk out of the cafe, and had wondered why you hadn't waited for him, why you had left so quickly.

He had wanted to ask, but had been distracted by the pretty girl that was sitting in front of him.

He couldn't deny that she was gorgeous and that he liked the way her dress clung to her figure.

But she wasn't you.

Jaehyun sighed and looked at his phone. The girl, Minah, had asked him out, and he had said yes.

She was the most recent in a long line of girls, all of whom had asked him out. He could barely remember their names. They were just something to occupy his time, something to fill the void in his chest when his mind drifted back to you. You, his beautiful best friend, who probably doesn't think of him as anything but a friend.

Jaehyun could imagine holding you, loving you, kissing you until your lips are red and swollen, only pulling away to pepper your skin in small, soft kisses that make you giggle. He wanted to be able to run his fingers through your hair, kiss the top of your head as he pulls you against him. He could see you wrapped up in his arms as the sun comes up, your soft breaths against his skin, your fingertips gently dancing across his body.

He wanted to be with you, wanted you in his life, not these random, forgettable girls. But he didn't know how to tell you, and so he resigned himself to this half-life.

He grabbed his phone and called you again, but still it rang and rang until finally the voicemail picked up. He didn’t bother leaving another message, knowing that you were deliberately not answering.

He knew that he should probably let you be, but the worry was building inside him. He was concerned. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It was almost 2 am and you still hadn't replied to him.

Jaehyun stood up, his mind made up. He grabbed his keys, jacket, phone, wallet, and made his way out of his apartment to head to yours.

He walked slowly, thinking about you, wondering what had happened today. Had he done something wrong? Why had you left the coffee shop without him?

He reached your apartment, surprised that the lights were still on.

He knocked loudly, waiting impatiently for someone to answer the door.

After a moment, the door opened, and Mark stood in the doorway. "Hey, can't this wait? She's asleep."

"Is she okay?" Jaehyun tried to push past the shorter man, but Mark stopped him.

"Look, man, just go home. She doesn't want to talk to you." Mark sighed.

Jaehyun gave him a look. "Why the fuck not? I'm her best friend."

"Well, you have a fucking shitty way of showing it. Do you even know what you have put her through?" Johnny walked up behind Mark and glared at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun paused. "What are you talking about?"

"You are her best friend and you are so blind that you can't see what is right in front of your eyes." Johnny continued.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jaehyun furrowed his eyebrows.

"For fucks sake." Johnny sighed. "Go home, Jae. Leave her alone for now."

"Tell her I'll call her tomorrow. I'll be back to check on her." Jaehyun turned and walked away, his head full of confusion.

Mark and Johnny shared a look.

"This is getting out of hand." Mark muttered.

"It'll work out. Let's get back inside. She needs us."

They closed the door and walked back into the living room, the others glancing at them.

"Is he gone?" Haechan asked.

"Yeah, for now. But I don't know how much longer we can keep this up. If he doesn't realize how she feels soon, it will destroy her." Mark sighed.

Taeyong moved from his seat and sat on the floor next to Haechan. "How many girls has he been with now?" He asked.

"I've lost count. There was the girl at the party last week, the one with the green dress. He dated her for two days before he realized that she wasn't going to give him anything other than her time. Then there was that blonde girl, she was nice, lasted a couple of weeks." Mark listed the girls that Jaehyun had brought around and introduced to you.

"How many of those girls did he fuck?" Haechan asked.

"Too many." Mark sighed.

"And she watches them all. She sits and listens to them talk about their dates and the things they've done, and she never says anything. She pretends to be happy for him, pretends that she is okay." Johnny looked over at your sleeping form.

"This needs to end." Haechan frowned. "Can't we just lock them in a room or something? Let them fuck it out or something? Surely it has to happen at some point."

"I'm with him." Taeyong looked at the rest of them.

"That...I guess that would work." Johnny nodded slowly.

"I could knock her out." Mark stood. "Give her something to drink, make it sweet or something... I could pick her up, put her somewhere..."

"No, Mark. No." Taeyong stopped him. "I'm pretty sure drugging her is illegal, even if you are doing it for a good cause. We don't need you getting arrested as well."

"Fine, fine." Mark threw his hands up and flopped down beside Haechan.

"Doesn't have to be drug-free." Haechan suggested.

"Again, Hae, not helping. We need Y/N and Jaehyun conscious if this is to go ahead." Johnny explained patiently.

"Yo, isn't the summer frat party coming up? We could lock them up in the laundry room since the door lock is broken?" Mark asked. “Like that shit won’t unlock from the inside.”

"Who knows what they could do then...no, wait. What if we kept them under a watch, like literally, all the time, until the frat party. At which point, we shove him in with her and she will have nowhere to escape to." Johnny sat up straight, eyes wide, an excited smile on his face.

"Okay. So far we have a plan to trap them at a frat party, and make sure they won't have any outside influences." Taeyong leaned back.

"Any other suggestions before we call this a success?" Johnny asked.

"Don't get caught." Haechan replied, grinning.

"Don't. Get. Caught." The others nodded.

[thisismeracing]

Paranoid | CS55 (Patreon)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: situationship!carlos x merc!admin!reader (with a sprinkle of reader x lewis) ― Warning: curse words; family issues (it is mentioned that the reader was abandoned by her father), jealousy, slightly toxic!cs55, mentions of cheating, mentions of the Louis to Ferrari deal. angsty, jealousy, toxic dynamic; fem!reader (she/her); 1k8 words. ― Summary: Carlos always got what he wanted. He was handsome and smart. Someone else's life never seemed better, and Carlos never saw himself as a jealous person, until Lewis got the seat and the girl.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

preview

If you asked Carlos Sainz if he was a jealous person he would deny it.

Just like if you asked Yn if she would ever get involved with someone from her line of work she would answer negatively.

But as it happens, fate likes to play with people, and it decided to play them two.

...

She was friendly, but there was a clear line drawn between them. 

To Yn in those lines, the sentence “never dare to get involved with a coworker” loomed. 

Carlos would find any excuse to get to the Merc garage unnoticed and “accidentally” bump into Yn and he was so set on at least making his feelings known that Yn couldn’t run anymore. For some reason, he always knew when she was around, and he got her number from a McLaren mechanic who just so happened to be her friend. She got tired, mainly because she was just as attracted to him but she refused to break down that wall, to step over the line she drew around herself ever since she started to understand the world.

...

“YOU’RE PARANOID!” She screamed when Carlos hinted that she was having an affair. “You know damn well my reluctance to get involved with coworkers, and even so, I’m your girlfriend, I wouldn’t cheat on you! Don’t you trust me?!” 

Carlos walked around the living room running his hands on his dark hair messing with the strands and even getting some from the roots with the force he was pulling them. 

“I do trust you, I just don’t trust him!” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He grunted, finally coming to a stop a few feet from her, “You can’t blame me, you keep working overtime when it comes to him, he texts you outside of working hours and…”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah* as usual a shout out to my coffee emoji anon for proofreading this <3

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[munsonburn3r]

Oh, Camellia, won't you take me away? - A Hanahaki!Eddie Munson story (sneak peek!)

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson had been a constant during your short time in hawkins, indiana, which made it that much harder when you had to leave. four years and a clinical trial later, you'd thought you'd conquered an otherwise fatal disease. what you weren't expecting, though, was the man that nearly killed you to walk back into your life, threatening to undo all of the progress you'd made towards healing - both physically and emotionally.

cw: hanahaki!au, angst, descriptions of light gore, childhood trauma, sexual themes and content

a/n: here is a snippet from the hanahaki eddie fic that has been bouncing around in my brain over the past week. feedback welcomed!

Water flowed out across the floor in a surge that mimicked crashing ocean waves. You cursed as you scrambled to right the plastic Procona and liquid sloshed awkwardly, lapping at your fingertips. It was a surprising amount from a relatively small bucket. 

“Everything alright out there?” called a gruff voice from the back office. 

You sighed. “Just fine, Bill! Minor spill. Nothing major.”

A muffled grumble could be heard from the owner’s space behind you, but you paid it no mind. It only took a few steps for you to grab the mop and start cleaning up the water all over the workspace floor, and to your relief, it really wasn’t as much as it seemed. 

The nearly four years you’d spent at Indiana Floral Company had seemed to fly by in a blink of an eye. You weren’t expecting an on the spot interview when you’d first stopped into the shop, but the owner Bill had been impressed at your willingness to learn and your natural eye for design and hired you immediately. Probationary, of course. 

So under Bill’s tutelage, your floral design skills blossomed. The basic knowledge of plants you’d brought from years of spending time gardening with your Grandma grew. You went from simply identifying lilies to knowing the difference between Asiatic and Oriental and their best growing seasons. You could identify roses based on subtle color differences and had learned how to take the most tightly closed bud and blow it open with a little humidity, a plastic bag, and very careful preening. And though you didn’t like to brag, you could match corsage ribbon to prom dresses better than anyone in town. 

As time wore on, Bill had shared that years of design had wrecked his body and that it was time to begin passing the torch. Since Indiana Floral Company was one of the top floral design studios in town, the responsibility embedded in passing said torch was sobering. But after a year and a half of earning your stripes, you landed a head designer role and began training to take over the small family business.

Humming a nondescript tune, you refilled the earlier bucket with water and flower food before chopping the ends off of a bunch of de-thorned roses with the guillotine-like stem cutter. A clunk thrummed out when you dropped the two dozen stems into the water. Each blossom peered at you with a center like a curled eye — delicate sandy cream — perfect for the event you were designing later this weekend. 

A ring of the bells on the front door broke your focus. You wiped your hands on the rag shoved haphazardly into your apron and turned at the sudden sound of Bill’s voice. 

“The 1:30 initial wedding consult must be early. You mind taking this one, kid?” His head peeked around the office door. “I started the file – it’s on the cash wrap.” He looked tired; the man should have retired two years ago. 

With a slight smile, you nodded. “Got it.”

It was impossible to see who had entered due to the amount of plants, gift items, and displays you’d designed around the small space (“customers shop with their eyes first, kid; you gotta draw them in before you let them see the price tag” Bill had said). But as soon as you rounded the front display, your stomach dropped clear out of your body and onto the floor. 

Maybe it was the habitual need to weave around the labyrinth of flora and gifts that had lowered your defenses. Or perhaps it was the fact that this was a typical boring Wednesday afternoon in April. Hell, it could have been the questionable sandwich you had for lunch that you found at the back of the minifridge. 

But one thing was clear: you hadn’t expected to see Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham hand in hand looking around at the array of merchandise you’d set out in preparation for Mother’s Day. 

“Hi!” A saccharine voice matched the sickeningly sweet smile on the strawberry blonde in front of you. “We’re here for a wedding consultation at 1:30. Sorry we’re a bit early — we didn’t want to be late!”

Time stood still. Or maybe that was just you — frozen as you stared the couple down with a look of surprise plastered across your features. You didn’t think you could move (or even speak, for that matter).

However, for the first time in almost four years, you felt your chest tighten and a sharp prickling sensation snake up your windpipe. You licked your dry lips (hadn’t you just put on chapstick?) and attempted to swallow with no success. Instead, your throat constricted, and there it was: an involuntary, yet ever so familiar metallic cough.

image credit: pinterest dividers: @saradika-graphics

tagging some moots that might be interested: @chickpeadumpsterfire @voyeurmunson @joshlmbrt @mediocredreams @littlexdeaths @anamelessfool

[dragonpyre]

Never done a fic preview before but HERE I GO. Fic in question being this one where Jason, upon being resurrected, believes himself to be a clone of the real Jason Todd (btw, totally @oifaaa's fault)

“I, uh.” Jason swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, heart beating wildly under his breastbone. Why did this have to be so hard? He’d never even met this man! Just had memories from a dead boy. He didn’t want to say what came next. He didn’t want to ruin that one glimmer of elatement that had blossomed in the man before him. But it wasn’t fair not to. To let him believe what stood before him was what he’d lost when it wasn’t. Jason was nothing more than a gross mockery of this family's grief. And they didn’t deserve that. Swallowing again, he forced the condemning words out his mouth. “I think someone stole his body,” he choked out. “And they used it to make a clone.” Alfred’s face had gone white as a sheet. “And how would you know this?” “Because I’m that clone.”

[gurugirl]

The Trapper | special preview

Series Summary: Set in the 1850s, a long distance romance (of sorts) between a traveler who hunts for a living and an innkeeper's daughter.

Part 1 summary (preview below from part 1): Harry's been away from Sage Lake for a year and Y/N thought she'd never see him again. But he's returned with the intention of taking her with him next time he leaves.

1.5k word preview

Harry always looked forward to visiting Sage Lake on his travels. He tried to stop there as frequently as possible but the life of a hunter and trapper on the range was unpredictable.

This year, luck had been on his side. The population of deer, muskrat, and possum was overwhelming the North plains and Harry was a skilled hunter who used this to his advantage. The overpopulation was causing disease amongst the animals and ruining farmer’s crops so Harry was seen as a savior of sorts. He sold his trappings to the locals, from town to town he’d travel. Fur, tools from bone, dried and salted meat, and even decorative pieces of jewelry he crafted.

He had quite the haul in his wagon as he entered the lovely little lakeside town. The townsfolk waved at him as his horses pulled him and his carriage through the bumpy dirt road to the inn where he knew he’d have a room waiting for him.

It had been nearly a year since he’d seen her. The innkeeper’s daughter was a beautiful and smart girl. Sassy if he was honest. Though he could put her in her place if needed. He smiled to himself thinking about their last interaction.

“Well then go mister Big Bad Hunter! Life out there is far more exciting than staying put in this old town. Nothing here to keep you anyway is there?” Y/n had her arms crossed over her chest as she stood out on the dusty porch of the inn and watched Harry load his saddle.

Harry nodded without giving her a glance. He’d always been a man of little words but for Y/n… he was different. He loved teasing her and often gave her lip back because she was fun to rile up. But in that moment, he was feeling the sting of having to leave again. Truth was he would have liked to stay longer. Figure out whatever was going on with his feelings for the girl at the inn. But he had a job to do. He was a hunter by trade and keeping the miles of Northern range and plains people fed and clothed was important to their survival, especially during the wintertime. And he needed to survive as well. All his trappings and wares were dwindled to decorative pieces and jewelry that didn’t sell as quickly as the more practical items.

He felt her hand on his arm suddenly and turned to look down at her, “Always gonna be like this? You just come when you feel like it? Leave when you please?”

He sighed. Her pretty big eyes always got him. He’d never once kissed her lips but he’d dreamt of it more often than he liked to admit, “Of course, I have to leave. I’ve got nothing left. It’s time for trapping, the season is here. People need fur and meat and tools and I intend to provide it for them. Helps me survive as well.”

She let go of his arm and huffed, turning her back, “I know. But I hoped…” Her following words were too quiet for the hunter to hear so he grasped the back of her arm and pulled her toward him.

“Speak up, girl.” He spoke and gripped her tight when she tried to yank her arm from his hold.

“S’nothin’. Go on then. Leave.” She looked downward and Harry, as much as he understood her upset, because he was feeling it quite the same, didn’t like her talking to him that way.

Smushing her cheeks together and tilting her head upward to look at him he spoke quietly, “What’s got you so upset? Hmm?”

He loosened his grip on her chin so she could speak, but he kept his hand on her face to keep her gaze on his.

“Said it’s nothin’. Let go of me.”

Harry couldn’t help but quirk up the edge of his lips. He was too aware of their unique connection and their slowly developing feelings for one another. It had been this way over the years of his travels to Sage Lake, “Don’t be sad, Y/n. I’ll return like I always do and we can go take a midnight dip in the lake once again.”

An annoyed grumble fell from her mouth and she grasped onto his forearm to pull his hand from her jaw, “Don’t care if you ever come back or not. Waste of my time.”

Harry snorted a laugh, “Liar. I’ll be back. And next time I’ll have a nice big carriage with two horses and the biggest bounty you’ve ever seen. Maybe I’ll even stay longer next time if you’re really sweet.”

Y/n’s younger brother stomped through the front salon toward the office where Y/n was checking the log and making sure the guests were all shored up on their accounts.

“Harry the hunter is here! He’s gonna want that big room again!”

Y/n looked up at her brother Matthew with wide eyes. Harry? Her Harry? She stood from her wooden chair, wiped her hands down her apron, and quickly smoothed her wild hair, peeking at her reflection in the wavy glass lamp, “Okay. Go put the linens on the bed and make sure there’s a towel and an extra pillow like he likes.”

Matthew stood grinning at her with his hands on his hips, “He’s got himself a big carriage and two horses. Looks like he might be ready to settle in for a bit.” Matthew wasn’t the only one aware of the budding romance between the pair. Though she’d never admit to it, it was obvious.

She had been pursued by a businessman not long after Harry left last time. Y/n was beyond the age of settling down. Normally young women would be married off no later than age 20 but when Y/n declined to take the man as a suitor her father was disappointed and expressed it to her for months after. The man had a decent property and made good money. It was time for her to get married, have kids. He scolded her about waiting around for Harry and she denied that was the reason she didn’t want to marry the other man. No one believed her.

But she was thankful that her father didn’t insist. That he didn’t make her entertain the attention of another man. She knew she was lucky that her father allowed her to make her own decisions and wasn’t strict like her friend’s dads were.

And now at 23, Y/n was old by most standards, which she found ridiculous.

She closed the accounts book and placed her quill pin into its inkpot as Matthew left the room. She took a deep breath and went into the salon to pace. Her heart was already thrashing in her chest and her boots clapped along the hardwood floors with each step.  

She hadn’t seen him in a year. She expected he’d return much sooner but lost hope after six months. It was difficult not knowing what to expect. Had no way to know if he’d settled in another town with a lovely girl and had already begun a family. Or perhaps he’d frozen to death out there on his excursions. Left alone with his horse tied to a log and his gun next to him, his heart gradually slowing down its cadence as his limbs turned to ice. Yes. She was the type to think the worst.

When she heard commotion from the front of the inn she shook her arms out and bent at the waist to catch her breath and soothe her nerves. She was about to face the man she couldn’t get out of her mind. He took up much of her secret thoughts and now here he was. It would be the longest they’d gone without seeing one another. A whole year and some.

Harry was tying his lead to the post when he looked up and saw the girl, hands on her pretty hips with hair that looked just as unruly as he remembered. She could never tame it. He grinned as he looked back toward his carriage. He was surprised by how excited he was to see her. His own heart thudded under his ribcage. He lifted his hat off his head and smoothed his hair back before placing it back and straightening his face out so that his expression wasn’t a giveaway to the girl at how pleased he was to see her again.

“Been a while. Looks like you kept your word. Big carriage, two horses,” she lifted her skirts and stepped down onto the dirt to take a closer look at his new setup.

Harry’s deep voice and his natural scent had her mind already spinning as he draped a heavy arm over the saddle and faced Y/n, standing over her, “I’m a man of my word. Should know that about me by now.”

She swallowed and tried not to pay attention to how he had the sleeves of his shirt pushed up his forearms, those uncouth and rude tattoos peeking out. The white material was dingy all over and the area under his arms slightly yellowed from his dried sweat. He was a hard worker and she knew his active labor as a trapper kept his body in better shape than most. And she knew he’d want a bath right away too. “Well, let’s get you to your room then.”

A/N: This will be a short series and will only be posted to my new Patreon. If you're interested in reading this love story please sign up! I will be posting plenty of patreon-exclusive content for members as well as new short series and one shots! Don't worry, though, if you're unable to subscribe, I'll continue to post new content to Tumblr regularly as I always have. xoxo

Find my Patreon here!

General tag list: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @tswiftsangel @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

[everybody-scream-fxck]

FANFIC PREVIEW - Smile For The Camera But Don't Flash Your Teeth 1 - Coffinshipping

So this was originally for a fic fest in a writing server I'm in but I wasn't going to be able to make the maximum word count limit work (I was going way over) so I decided to swap it from the event with another fic. This one is a lot of fun and I really am having a blast with it.

This is from chapter two, just a silly little bit with Strahm being a puppy. This has had its first edit but is still what I would consider raw.

---

“I know, but you're gracious like that.” With that, her hand dropped off of his head, “Get on in there. I know you have work to do.”

And work he did. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he started with the side of the office he had claimed as his from the start. Rubbing across the carpet and his chair alike, he probably looked a sight and a half; nobody would believe that this was his first order of business in this office. This was the kind of thing that people put up on YouTube about their werewolf counterparts, but there was nobody here to record him. Once he'd finished with his side of the office, though, he found himself gazing at Mark's with a scrutinizing, frustrated eye. The floor's scent was still off, and he didn't like the chemical aroma of the glue.

When Lindsey arrived with the smorgasbord she'd ordered for Peter's lunch, he was neck down on the floor, scooting across it comically. She stood in the doorway for a moment with her hands full of fast food bags, one eyebrow raised. The second the pressure changed in the room, he looked up and she swore he paled visibly in front of her despite the fur.

“The smell?” 

“The smell.”

[my-dark-lord]

Fanfic preview: Vox ❤️

One ❤️ = One Sentence From Any WIP!

Okay, this one is from one I need to edit! It's VoxVal, and called Where I Lay My Head!

---

It would be a simple undress and lay down kind of night, apparently; he may not even fold his clothes.

[smashing-teacups]

My very dear friend (who is so grumpy that J&C hijacked her brain again when she wanted a break 🤣) @theawkwardterrier tagged me in an invite to share a section of one of my WIPs. So hey, how about a peek at an upcoming chapter of Atonement? 👀

______

In the second month, they began their respective job searches in earnest.

On that particular front, Claire had an undeniable advantage: there was a terrible nursing shortage throughout the UK, and more job postings than she knew what to do with. She had enough experience to be accepted at practically every bedside position, and so she had the ability to be selective.

A very fortunate state to find herself in, she found out rather quickly, as there were a number of positions that… well, positions she wasn’t sure she would be best suited for anymore.

Wound care, for example, was definitely out. Just reading the vague clinical expectations under the first post made her snap her laptop shut, her skin chilled and mind numb. She held Jamie from behind later that night, tears soaking her pillow as she traced the scars that had once been open flesh. The memories were as vivid as if she were living them all over again; she could see the snake of saturated pink gauze she’d pulled out of his back by the meter, watch her gloved hand depress a syringe of morphine into his IV, hear her own murmurs of reassurance as she reached wrist-deep into the cavernous wounds to begin packing them again…

So, no. Nothing with wound care.

Anything on a neurology floor was likewise out of the question. The prospect of monitoring an EEG took her right back to the endless days and nights when those incomprehensible squiggling lines were burned into her retinas, watching for any change that might signify a seizure. The ICUs in general were out for that same reason. Just the sounds alone — the non-stop beeping of monitors and IVs, the whoosh of the ventilator and hiss of suction equipment—

She couldn’t.

Her damned glass face as she scrolled the job boards must have told her husband far more than she ever would have said aloud; it didn’t take long before she woke to find a folded newspaper on the kitchen table alongside her morning coffee. Circled once, with a question mark beside it, was an advertisement from a local primary care office in town, seeking a clinic nurse.

Claire looked over the top of the paper to find Jamie watching her apprehensively, as though unsure if he’d overstepped. The moment she caught his eye, he dropped his gaze and blew on his steaming coffee. “It’d be quieter than ye’re used to,” he said around a careful sip, “but somethin’ to consider, mebbe.”

Softening with tenderness, she reached for his hand across the table. “No, it’s—it’s a good thought. Thank you. Maybe I need the quiet, I don’t know.” With a sigh, she smoothed her free hand over her face and back into her hair. “That’s just it, I don’t… I don’t know what it is I want any more.” Peering up at her husband through her lashes, she admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “Suppose I’ve just been hoping I’ll know it when I see it.”

Returning the smile so that his soft morning eyes crinkled with it, Jamie brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sure you will. The right job’ll find ye when it’s meant to, Sassenach. I know it.”

[gimme-a-thrust]

Fic Preview - Fuck It, Let’s Do It In The Kitchen

So, this is a trade fic with @charsawdeath! They’ve already completed their half, and I’m working on theirs. They had a rough day and have given me permission to post this to surprise them and cheer them up some! 

Quick warning for Mpreg and Food!

---

“Whatcha makin’?” Sashaying into the room, he extended his legs so he could sit on the counter, taking in the array of sub sandwiches that Ozzie had been working on. There were meatball ones, regular lunchmeat ones, a couple that looked like they’d been carved from a turkey or chicken, and a couple of vegetable ones.

“What do you think?” Chuckling again, Ozzie shook his head, “Sandwiches. Tried to cover all the bases just in case.”

“You didn’t make what I want, though.” Huffing playfully, the imp crossed his arms over his chest and his lips turned into an exaggerated pout.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Placing the top bun onto the last of the sandwiches, he rose a brow at his lover. “Peanut butter, butter, cheese, and Cheetos!” Grinning like a maniac, Fizzarolli perked up and wiggled a little against the marble beneath him. The bull and goat heads’ noses wrinkled, but Ozzie’s main head did his best not to show his evident disgust. Whatever Fizzarolli was craving would be provided, because Ozzie wasn’t going to deprive him of things he and the babies needed, but Hell’s gates, sometimes he couldn’t believe the combinations that he wanted.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

WIP Wednesday

Arthur had spent all morning looking for Merlin, only to find out he’d spent all day in the tavern.

Apparently.

Gwaine, who had shown up to training drunk, said Merlin hadn’t been to the tavern in months. And so he had no idea where his wayward servant was, but training had been exhausting and Arthur was about ready to collapse into a bath.

As he got to his chambers, he didn’t expect to hear George, panicking. The man wasn’t supposed to have reactions to anything, whatever was making him raise his voice had to be bad. Arthur pressed himself close to the door and listened for the threat.

“There is a knife in your leg!” George cried, there were pacing footsteps and an ill sounding groan, then Merlin’s voice sounding completely calm if not a little pained.

“It’s not your leg, and I know for a fact it’s not your knife.”

The footsteps stopped, “what does that mean?”

“It means,” Merlin huffed, “it’s not your business so stay out of it. Hand me the honey?”

An astonished gasp from George. “You can’t be considering treating- oh dear lord, that’s a lot of blood!” The servant sounded distinctly ill.

—

I hate this, but I’m sleep deprived and have *looks at the 61 drafts* nothing else to post.