#lyric oneshot

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[ecstarry]

taylor's references in my fic Invisible String for @neaverse, thank you @bellaxisworld for helping me

[selineram3421]

I'm turning some pain into a oneshot. Also I like this art on the merch.

In The Morning, part 3🌹

Alastor X Sweet Reader Oneshot

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ fluff, kisses, hugs, soft Alastor, food mention, hint at cannibalism, domestic ⚠

One of the rare moments in your afterlife, you woke up at the same time as Alastor.

"Good morning.", you mumble, slowly blinking your eyes to try having them adjust to the light coming in from the window.

"Good morning my dear.", he said, moving closer to you and placing a kiss on your forehead. "Shall we make breakfast?"

"Hm..", you hummed, still comfortable where you were, limbs tangled and all.

But breakfast didn't sound too bad.

"Yes.", you decide and give him a quick peck before sitting up. "What do you want to make today?", you ask.

"French toast?", he suggests, taking a hold of your hand and pressing kisses on your knuckles. "Or perhaps an American styled breakfast? Eggs, toast, and sausages or bacon on the side."

"What about you love?", you say and pull on his hand holding yours, kissing it before getting out of bed. "Huevos con chorriso? Or grits?"

"Let's see what we have in the kitchen.", he says before getting up as well.

After tossing on some robes and slippers, both of you make your way downstairs and head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to glance at your options.

"We can prepare..", he mumbles, picking up the eggs. "Egg sandwiches, omelets, boiled egg, egg.. What are the flat things called again?"

"Tortillas.", you say.

"Yes, we can also make those egg burritos.", he nods. "Then there's the option of pancakes, waffles, crepes, french toast.."

With a smile and a shake of your head, you make your way over to the coffee machine, getting the pot and filling it with water.

"I'll start the coffee.", you say.

After putting the water in and setting the pot back in place, Alastor brings ingredients over to the counter.

"I'm making beans and sunny side up eggs with sausage. Is that fine?", he asks.

"Mhm.", you nod and get the mugs from the cupboard. "Are you going to cook your meat separately?", you ask.

"Don't worry, I won't eat that kind until later.", he says and puts a large pan on the stove. "For dinner."

You put in the filter before putting in scoops of ground coffee, making sure to count them as you go.

Then there's music.

Darlin', if I sat down and I wrote a song

I would know where every word belongs

'Cuz I'd write my song about you

Looking over, you find the microphone just a bit away from the fridge, playing an oldie. The mic looks happy after you give it a wave.

When the coffee starts after a push of a button, you head over to your man in red, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your forehead against his back.

"Want help?", you question, tightening your hold just a bit before going back to holding him regularly.

"I'd be grateful but I like you hugging me from behind. Stay?", he glances back, only seeing the top of your head.

You nod and stay, listening to the music and the sizzling of beans. Without letting go completely, you get the bean masher and place it on his waiting hand.

"Thank you dear.", the deer demon says and mashes the beans a bit.

When he's done with the beans, he places a lid on it before putting the flame on low. Getting out another pan, smaller for the sausages and eggs.

You let go and pat his back lightly.

"I'm going to make toast and get some avocado.", you tell him before making your way to get the bread.

Another song plays from the mic.

La la la la la la

La la la la la la

My Cherie amour, lovely as a summer day

My Cherie amour, distant as the Milky Way

You can hear him hum along to the song, a smile forms on your lips.

Cutting the bread, you make sure its not too thin before cutting out four more. You clean the bread crumbs off the knife before putting it away.

Putting the bread in the toaster, you push down the little lever and turn the knob to three minutes. On your way to get the coffee, you pocket a knife and avocado to bring to the table.

Alastor is almost done cooking, already on the eggs.

You pour the coffee into the mugs and put the pot back before going to the table, setting everything down. And making sure to get the items out of your pocket too.

Hearing the clinking of plates, you go to help, taking one from his hand.

"I've got mine love.", you say and peck his cheek. "Thank you."

Both of you serve your plates and get ready to head to the table.

Then the toast pops up.

"I'll get it, go sit down.", he says, stealing a kiss and the plates of food.

You blink and blush, turning to the table before he could see that he's made you flush so easily.

Sitting down, you make sure there's napkins for both of you.

Alastor comes with the plates full of food, placing them down and giving you your utensils.

The song on the mic changes again when you begin to eat, and as you go to drink your coffee, you remember about the cream and sugar.

"I forgot-", you start.

With a snap of his fingers, the Radio Demon makes the cream and sugar appear on the table, along with a small vase with a red rose.

"Enjoy darling.", he says cutting the avocado.

'Cause we've got a life of love that won't ever change and

Everyday love me your own special way

Melt all my heart away with a smile

Adding the cream and sugar the way you like it, you can't help but keep a smile on.

You really liked these kinds of mornings with Alastor, even if they were somewhat rare.

I'm fine now, so don't worry. ❤ Song names in the tags.

~Seline, the person.

🌹In The Morning, part 1 , part 2.

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @willowaudreykeyes @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @bisexualboba @kiraisastay @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[quick-catton]

this modern love is such a genius song to put in saltburn; i'm obsessed with the whole soundtrack but i can't stop thinking about specifically the line 'and you told me you wanted to eat up my sadness, well jump right on surely and gorge away' because it encapsulates the scenes where oliver is spilling his sob stories and felix is absolutely eating them up and oliver is more than happy to keep going along with it as long as it keeps him entertained and ensures felix doesn't lose interest in him.

bonus points for 'just keep telling me facts and keep making me smile' because while it's not what the song originally meant, when you read that from felix's pov it just makes so much sense. the people around him are his puppets who bend over backwards to keep the golden boy happy and he doesn't even realize oliver is doing it too.

and honourable mention for 'do you wanna come over and kill some time' because again definitely not the intention of the song lyrically but reading it as 'do you wanna come over and kill, sometime?' is soooo. ugh. i love it

[spaceshipellie]

taylor swift lyric pranks on ellie

this is a silly smau/ellie texts just for shits and gigs. no warnings i don’t think, enjoy <3

[shmothman]

hands (put your empty hands in mine)

vash x reader drabble (rated g, 550 words)

Scarred from wrist to fingertip—just like the rest of him—Vash’s hands are never anything but gentle and careful when they wrap around yours. All of him is careful with you, often borderline treating you as if you’re fragile, but can you blame him when human life so often is? It’s only out of love for you; out of fear that you’ll be ripped away from him. Still, he can’t bear to hold on too tight. The guilt (of putting you in danger just by keeping you close) is something he’ll never fully be able to escape, but it’s something you can help lessen, with patience and love and the constant reminder that he is deserving.

At first, even just holding your hand is nearly enough to make him cry. He’s denied himself a great many things over the past hundred and thirty years—affection chief among them—and accepting it now is difficult, even when it’s something he wants more than anything else. Give him some time to get used to it; he’ll be seeking it out constantly before long. Your hand in his becomes an anchor, a comfort, a reminder that you’re here and you’re real and he isn’t alone anymore. You’re nothing short of a miracle, to him.

Though, of course, he gets nervous, especially in the beginning—his hand sweaty and trembling as he gives you a wobbly grin; he might even give you his prosthetic hand to hold (although any other time he favors the other) to keep you from seeing just how nervous he is. Not that you can’t tell. You know him too well for that. He’ll be even more awestruck when you take his right hand anyway, interlacing your fingers with his and giving him a squeeze of reassurance. You don’t mind if his palm is a little bit sweaty. Yours is too.

Not to say that you shy away from his left hand: though the metal gets far too hot to hold beneath the desert suns, it cools in the evening like everything else, and you can sit with him, tracing the nicks and scuffs of it. He doesn’t have much feeling in it, but watching you draw mindless patterns against it makes his heart sing. Still, the fact that it’s a weapon makes him hesitant to touch you with it; he wishes he could keep that part of himself away from you entirely. You coax him out of that melancholy every time, though—especially when you take it and press it to your cheek, swearing the coolness of it feels like heaven.

One surefire way to get him to melt is to brush your lips over his knuckles, or even better, press a kiss to his open palm when he goes to cup your cheek. He’s always red-faced around you, but when you give him such open adoration, your lips against the calluses he’s acquired in all his years as a gunslinger, he lights up like a roman candle, pink to the tips of his ears. (And if you compliment his hands? If you tell him how safe and loved they make you feel? How you love that he chooses to use them for good? For love and peace? Vash has long since decided that he’s yours forever, but this only cements that fact tenfold.)

[theprodigypenguin]

Rated G | 1226 Words | Good Dad Dragon | Baby Luffy | Fluff

There was so much life in his tiny little body it was overwhelming.

*blows a kiss* for the Dragon Lovers ❤️

Nah but ever since I had that fucking dream of Dragon singing a lullaby to Luffy I've been tearing at the seams to write this, so I slammed it out while listening to Miserable Man(David Kushner) and Atlas Falls(Shinedown) , I hope you enjoy reading 😩

Title inspired by the only lullaby lyric I remember from my dream.

[floralcrematorium]

Fall Out Boy lyrics that make me want to write fics because I'm unhinged and always thinking about middle-aged gay men ᵇʸ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵒʸ

Take This To Your Grave

• "And I can't forget your style or your cynicism" - Homesick at Space Camp

From Under The Cork Tree

• "Why don't you show me a little spine you've been saving for his mattress, love" Dance, Dance

• "Can I lie in your bed all day? I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake" - Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner

• "I found the cure to growing older and you're the only place that feels like home" - I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

• "I'm the first kid to write of hearts, lies, and friends and I am sorry my conscious called in sick again and I've got arrogance down to a science" - I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

• "So douse yourself in cheap perfume, it's so fitting, so fitting of the way you are" - I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

• "I used to obsess over living, now I only obsess over you. Tell me you'd like boys like me better, in the dark lying on top of you" - Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows)

• "I'm casually obsessed and I've forgiven death. I am indifferent yet (I am a total wreck)" - The Music Or The Misery

• "I'm every cliché, but I simply do it best" - The Music Or The Misery

Infinity On High

• "I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light" - Hum Hallelujah

• "We're so miserable and stunning... Love songs for the genuinely cunning" - The Carpal Tunnel Of Love

• "Best friends, ex-friends to the end, better off as lovers, and not the other way around" - Bang The Doldrums

• "Do you remember the way I held your hand? Under the lamp post and ran" - I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers

Folie à Deux

• "Say my name and his in the same breath, I dare you to say they taste the same" - I Don't Care

• "Does your husband know the way that the sunlight gleams from your wedding band?" - Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet

• "I will never end up like him, behind my back I already am" - What A Catch Donnie

• "My head's in heaven, my soles are in hell. So let's meet in the purgatory of my hips and get well" - w.a.m.s.

Save Rock And Roll

• "I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul?" - Alone Together

• "You and me are the difference between real love and the love on T.V." - Where Did The Party Go?

• "Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name, it will be held against you" - Just One Yesterday

• "I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way" - Just One Yesterday

• "But even though my eyes closed, I still see you. I just hope that when you see me, I'm not see-through" - The Mighty Fall

• "I wanna see your animal side, let it all out. Oh there you go, undress to impress. You can wear the crown, but you're no princess" - Death Valley

• "Oh, c'mon, make it easy, say I never mattered" - Young Volcanoes

American Beauty/American Psycho

• "She's in a long black coat tonight, waiting for me in the downpour outside. She's singing, baby come home, in a melody of tears, while the rhythm of the rain keeps time" - Jet Pack Blues

• "You are my favorite 'what if,' you are my best 'I'll never know'" - Fourth of July

• "I wish I'd known how much you loved me, I wish I cared enough to know" - Fourth of July

• "The torture of small talk with someone you used to love" - Fourth Of July

MANIA

• "You are the sun and I am just the planets spinning around you" - The Last Of The Real Ones

• "I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me" - The Last Of The Real Ones

• "I got too high again, realized I can't not be with you or be just your friend" - HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T

• "There is nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody but you" - Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)

• "If you were church, I'd get on my knees" - Church

So Much (For) Stardust

• "You were the sunshine of my lifetime, what would you trade the pain for?" - Love From The Other Side

• "Part-time soulmate, full-time problem" - Hold Me Like A Grudge

• "I will never ask you for anything, except to dream sweet of me" - Heaven, Iowa

• "I like playing dumb, letting you figure me out" - I Am My Own Muse

• "I've got all this love I've got to keep to myself. All this effort to make it look effortless" - Flu Game

• "Self-sabotage at best, under your spell" - Baby Annihilation

• "I think I've been going through it and I've been putting your name to it" - So Much (For) Stardust

• "In another life, you were my babe. In another life, you were the sunshine of my life" - So Much (For) Stardust

• "I used to be a real go-getter, I used to think it'd all get better" - So Much (For) Stardust

[money-and-dandellions]

Of cold nights, slushies and how good it is to breathe; one-shot about Sunflower Siblings.

Less than 30. Sunset is less than thirty minutes away, and the sun has already gone behind the clouds. As if it hadn't spent the whole day there.

In addition to how lazy the sun really was, other thoughts flashed through Lester's head; most often they were lyrics from songs that, with annoying buzzing in his head, played on a loop for a few hours straight.

"...It seems to me that when I die,

these words will be written on my stone...

And I'll be gone, gone tonight

The ground beneath my feet is open wide.

The story of my life..."

The finger while not thinking much about the recent events, tapped out the rhythm of the song, words of which had glued to the skull.

Speaking of skulls, then it's better not to think about them at all, because he has managed to see of too many skinless heads in the last two weeks. This experience is finished for at least three eternities. No exaggeration.

Lester swerved to the right, trying not to hiss at the sharp surge of pain in his right temple. The black-blue dots continued to dance in his view.

Well, at least they weren't tap dancing. He hoped so.

"...There'll be nothing left for me to yearn.

Think of me and burn..."

'Burn what?'

There was no such event as highly-pitched scream, thank you very much.

Meg's eyes, somehow reflecting the rapidly decreasing in availability sunlight, were shining with candle-yellow which did not go along at all with her red, dimmed by a light layer of dirt, tip-tops. Her hair were as wet as the top of her bright green dress, lovingly handed by Ms. Sally Jackson.

Despite that the rain had stopped more than an hour ago, no one would say it if only looking at his master's clothes. Weren't she asleep, like, just now?

'Why would—' A pause. They will, for sure, discuss all the ups and downs of Bastille but Lester doesn't recall what was the last time he have seen the [liquid poison] fluorescent lights of any convenient shop, so—

'Were are going to be in Arkansas in an hour, near some gas station - in 10 or so, because the road is wet, who thought it would be a good idea to... Anyway, in 10 or so minutes. Any wishes?'

'A blue slushie and fries. With salt.' Meg answered, kicking the tips of her legs together with a soft bup.

A slushie and fries it is.

And aspirin, before Lester's brain will wave a white neckerchief, wishing all the best.

———— ———— ———— ————

As it was said before, the liquid poison of lightning bulbs is the least expected thing to happen to anyone, who is crossing the United States of America, even in a company of girl with unicorn-obsession. Even, if you were a god.

Alas, the gas station's advertisment was not so merciful to every unlucky person that ever visited it would it be a mortal, demigod, or a monster.

It would be unpleasant if it would be merciful to monsters.

Sitting on the hood of the car, Meg McCaffrey was very much pleased with apple-strawberry flavour of brain-eating (okay, not the best choice of words) cheap freezer also known as a slushie. Kicking the air, she looked almost peaceful, even counting the pinkish cut on her cheek, which, of course, was already healing.

The clouds were not so peaceful. The dark-gray, wet and multiple layered mass of water looked too intimidating for simple liquid.

Everything started to have a significantly huge amount of ozone smell in it. Choking, cold and crystallized pieces of something sharp scratched Lester's chest, tightening it.

Like rings of lubricous, narrow as cut dried wax, scales that would not stop and would be very much satisfied with crushing him until the last, shaky breath—

'It's cold.'

'What..?'

'I'm freezing, let's get in the car, dummy.'

Yes, breathing is good.

———— ———— ———— ————

Five minutes, ten fries and one boring song listened after, the sun had fully sat, shining at last in the front window of the car. For the next eight or so hours, headlights are going to be Lester's best accomplices.

Meg, her fingers suspiciously shiny, put knees to her chest, head - onto the cold window. Her glasses shifted a little, sliding more onto her right eye.

From time to time, taking his eyes off the road, Lester casted a glance at her, trying to figure out if his young friend is indeed asleep.

Judging by how strong was her grip onto recently bought blanket, she was not.

In twenty or so minutes, the girl shifted, wrapping herself further in the soft cloth.

'I'll go sleep.' The mumble was almost barely audible, but it was still there.

'Have a good night.'

'Don't tell me what to do, du—' She yawned, interrupting her own speech.

"All this time I was finding myself, and I

Didn't know I was lost.

I tried carrying the weight of the world

But I only have two hands..."

'You too.'

Lester smiles tiredly, staring at the infinite dark road ahead.

It's going to be a long night.

[apricusapollo]

legolas to aragorn but she is eowyn and he is eomer

[raspberrysmoon]

this fic is just turning into an excuse to listen to hoziers music. i cant decide the title because i bave an option from like seven different songs. and four of them are hozier songs

anyway eddie fell first and charles fell harder 🫶

[unicornsaures]

ive had a list of things to write simply based on songs and hoenstly its seeming like a real good idea to write them all with this sudden burst of motivation

[pyrriax]

6, 12, 30 for the writing asks ^_^

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

Shaking its head in what seems like disbelief before meeting his eyes again, almost like it wants to say something before it makes a noise like a growl, "oh, you're one of those seraphs, aren't you. A star-eater. No wonder you act like you've lost your mind."

(ignore that that's a couple sentences, the Thought is important)

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Oh yes! I outline my fics thoroughly. Though, I do allowed myself to deviate as much from the outline as I feel like when things go off the rails. Some snippets of planning from a couple fics & concepts:

My outlines are very... One for one. With some exceptions. I tend to basically write a very brief version of the fic and try to get the feelings and words right before I actually write it. This is... Also why it can and will take me a month to write a oneshot. I try to get things Right.

30. How much do you edit your fics?  Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

So! I edit them a bit? I edit while I work, but often I don't really touch anything I've already written unless it's something longer that might be taking a few months to get through. I think the fic I've edited the most is the prologue of Artificial Stars, which was originally a quickly written 2k oneshot into about 5k of actually decent fic.

Usually I don't edit to make something shorter/more concise, since I tend to only come up with more ways to bridge concepts when I go back to it. Also to be fair... There's usually no difference between first draft and final product. I cannot be asked to edit my fics after I write them, I just release them to the birds and pray for the best. (Unless I actually decide to show it to my beta reader in full instead of just sharing snippets as I... usually do.)

Conclusion: Rarely, those thangs are being given to the world as-is unless something is horrifically wrong with them

[im-sorry-what-ii]

Returning from war with the only decent thing I have written in the last few months. Entirely written in the notes app at 1am so I apologize for the dubious quality

Inspired by roger water's song The bravery of being out of range

For context the setting is tgm on the carrier during the Mission just after mav and roo are shot down

[shostakobitchh]

Ooh purple 1 please!

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Lily looks up from her essay to blink back at Severus. He hasn’t even looked up from his own parchment, but his face is smooth and indifferent, like he’s just suggested they take a break instead of saying something sort of touching out of the blue.

She sets down her quill and waits for Severus to do the same, but he doesn’t. She watched his dark eyes carefully, noticing that they flicker upwards every few seconds, as if he’s looking to see if she’s still watching him.

He can be such a pill sometimes, honestly.

Lily Summons Severus’ parchment. His eyes finally meet hers, snapping to her face like a kitchen magnet thwacking onto a refrigerator.

“Really?” she rolls up his essay. “Tell me more about that.”

Severus scowls and shrugs, throwing his quill into his rucksack dismissively. “I’m just making sure you know.”

Lily frowns. He’s never done this sort of thing before — remind her. They’d had a row just yesterday but they’ve made up already, just in time to suffer through Herbology with Potter and Black, who somehow managed to sabotage both of their rue saplings while they’re back had been turned. Severus had gotten them back by dumping some new experiment into Potter’s and now they were in the library, working on the essay they’d been assigned in lieu of a detention.

Severus’ scowl turns into that worried, famished look, like he’s starving and she’s only just reminded him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lily asks, fanning herself with the parchment. “I’m not exactly forgetful.”

A blush creeps into his cheeks — Lily bites her tongue.

“After our argument the other day…” he shakes his head. “We’ve been fighting a lot lately, haven’t we?”

Lily drops the parchment. They have — she would be lying if she tried to play it off like they weren’t. They’d always bickered here and there, but lately, the digs back and forth had started to sting a little more, dissipate a little less. They clung around them like smoke when they walked from class or sat quietly by the lake.

“That’s what people who are close do,” Lily says instead. “They argue. They know how to press each others buttons.”

Severus looks away quickly to glare at the floor. Lily is confused before she realizes why — his parents. I think you’re house is haunted, your dad is always mad and that must be why —

“Yeah,” he said quietly, so quietly that Lily almost has to strain to hear it. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Or you could stop hanging out with those creeps.” Lily knows she shouldn’t, she can’t help herself. She can see herself losing him, see him pulling away, and sometimes, she’s not sure if she wants to stop him. “I don’t know what you see in then anyway.”

“Potter says the same thing about me to you.” Sev bites back in a bitter voice, like he can’t stand the taste of the words in his mouth.

Lily crosses her arms. “Potter is his own special kind of creep. We’re on the same page about that, at least.”

Sev manages to smirk, just a little bit.

“But we’re not talking about Potter — I’m talking about your other friends.” she gives him a pointed look.

Sev hangs his head low — he knows, on some level he does, and he knows that she knows that he knows. “They’re my Housemates. What do you want me to do?”

“You know that’s not what this is about.”

“I already told you, I can’t control what other people say or do!”

Lily slams up from the table, because she hasn’t told him — hasn’t told him what Mulciber hissed through the girl’s loo door the other day while she was in there. He didn’t hear what he’d followed her to the loo to say, to do out of earshot, away from Sev, who might not even believe her if she told him.

And Lily doesn’t. She shouldn’t have to — shouldn’t need to, because Severus is her best friend. That’s what he said, that’s what started this whole bloody aggravating conversation —

It’s what starts every bloody aggravating conversation.

As Lily storms off, she wonders how many are left, how many she can count on one hand, until he slips through her fingers.

[bambino1294]

it’s a never-ending summer (it’s getting way too hot)

A Hunger Games AU

16k Words | Rated M

“You’re okay.” It was a voice he’d recognise anywhere and instead of yanking away as he once might have, Sokka sat and breathed quivering breaths as Zuko ran a thumb along his neck and eased him through his breakdown. “You should hate me,” he whispered, broken and cracking. Zuko squeezed, “I know.” He was gone by the time Bato found Sokka again, nothing left of their encounter besides the warmth still etched into his neck and an odd feeling settling into his gut.

OR

As Victors of the Hunger Games, Sokka and Zuko navigate a complicated relationship in a world just waiting to watch them tear each other apart.