#plus a snippet from an already posted chapter

[watchyourbuck]

Inspiration Sunday | A.R.C.A.N.E.3

“You okay?” Buck asked, turning his body and wincing at the pain of resting his head on his hand.

Eddie sighed, hiding his face in his own. “Yeah, I’m just… jumpy.” He sighed again. Buck frowned, reincorporating a little bit. “I keep thinking what could’ve happened to you out there.”

“Eddie, I’m fine,” he mumbled patiently. “I’m not defenseless, I know how to use our weapons.”

From across the room, Eddie scoffed, then cleared his throat. “It’s not about you being damn good with that machete, which I know you are,” he said, watching Buck nod in agreement. “It’s about the fact that you- it’s like you think this Camp could go on without you.”

Silence.

“…That I could go on without you.”

Read on ao3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

tagged for 7ss & inspo saturday by @hoodie-buck @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz @smilingbuckley @wikiangela @diazsdimples @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley & @daffi-990 thank you my loves! I’ll get to your works asap🧚🏼‍♀️

tagging in return @lover-of-mine @wildlife4life @hippolotamus @spagheddiediaz @malewifediaz @puppyboybuckley @bigfootsmom @911-on-abc @eowon @jesuisici33 @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @fortheloveofbuddie @kitteneddiediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @eddie---diaz @bucksbackwardcap @loserdiaz @buckleyobsessed @tsunamibuckley @bucksbirthmark @singlethread @cal-daisies-and-briars @butraura @fionaswhvre @thewolvesof1998 @nmcggg @giddyupbuck @devirnis @spotsandsocks @urfactual & @eddiiediaz

[infamous-if]

Infamous is 2 years old!

So sorry this was late! Funnily enough, I was deep in the Infamous trenches that I didn't remember until now! Ha! Two years is a long time. I didn't think this would turn into anything when I posted the intro post.

Infamous was born from my desire to read a band IF after a weekend binging band-related stuff. You can imagine I was gutted that there was a hole of music/band related stories in this community. The (amazing!) band stories were either demo-less or dead. Once that happened a seed of an idea was planted in my head. One I couldn't shake off :,) and thus Infamous was born.

500k words, three chapters (lol) and nearly 10k of you later (woah) and here we are! I love Infamous with all my heart and I'm happy to see that it's touched some of you, no matter how big or small. The art, the fanfic, the questions and funny musings in my inbox; they give me a lot of energy and motivation. I'd probably have given up on this a long time ago if not for how kind and supportive this community is to me. You guys do not have to welcome me the way you do every day. Or be so gracious and patient with my ramblings and stupid ridiculous jokes and Savina teasing but you are. I am very lucky. Thank you.

I wish I had something prepared but as we know I am not a very organized person. Instead, as a way to celebrate, I've uploaded an extended Chapter 4 snippet. For those on Patreon who have already read it, I did extend this one—not by a lot but still. It's something new.

There will be typos, errors (if there are game-breaking errors, lmk!), skipped scenes, some paragraphs/convos not fleshed out, and empty choices because I am lazy and fill those out near the end. (I usually write a big picture skeleton first and then map out the scenes in deeper detail). Plus, I don't want to spoil too much haha

I hope you enjoy it. And thanks for loving Infamous! More to come!!!

Amy <3

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 6 (ona batlle x reader, alexia putellas x reader, ona batlle x alexia putellas)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

a/n: this is a short one, sorry! but the next chapter is coming and will be a lot longer x

-------

“We can’t tell her,” Alexia said after a moment of silence. “She’s only just started getting her memories back, I don’t want to overwhelm her. She’s already had to deal with so much in the past few weeks.”

“Fuck,” Ona repeated. “I should never have come here. I just got her to forgive me, to trust me again, and now this, fuck!”

“It’s okay,” Alexia said, trying to soothe the younger player. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“How? I promised her, no more lying! She’ll never forgive us.”

“It’s not… lying, necessarily. It’s just not telling her something,” Alexia said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself of that fact just as much as she was trying to convince Ona. “Not telling isn’t the same as lying.”

“Mierda,” the brunette dragged her hands down her face. “This can’t happen again.”

---

You hadn’t heard anything from Alexia or Ona all day, which was a little odd, but you supposed that they were at training and it was to be expected that they couldn’t be on their phones 24/7. Still, you found yourself missing them, both of them. 

Plus, you were bored, and started to feel frustrated about all of the hazy spots in your memory. So, you did what anyone in your position would do and googled yourself. First you read through your wikipedia page, which, to be fair, you’d already done a couple of times since waking up. Nothing really stood out there, except for some lines under ‘Personal life’ that detailed your involvement in the LGBTQ+ community. 

Where else could you find out more about yourself? You deliberated for a minute before going on Twitter and searching your name - you had a hunch that you’d been told not to look yourself up on social media before, that it was something most players tried to avoid. Still, you figured that social media would probably give you some more information, even if it was just about what people thought of you.

Once the search loaded, your laptop was flooded with posts about your accident, people theorising about what had happened, how you were doing. Scrolling back a little, you found posts with pictures of you and Alexia at the café you’d gone to together, with captions talking about the two of you. Some of them speculated what you were doing, if you were dating - you had gathered that your relationship with Ona wasn’t public knowledge, although a lot of people liked to talk about whether or not you were together.

As you kept scrolling, you realised that there was a fairly large amount of people who were convinced that it was Alexia you were dating, not Ona. You looked at photos posted of the two of you, people gushing over the way you were looking at each other, the way Alexia would touch you, her hand on your shoulder, your arm. You saw countless edits of the two of you, snippets of videos where you were deep in conversation or laughing together, Alexia’s smile always directed at you.

For a brief moment you wondered why the two of you weren’t dating, why it was you and Ona, and then felt guilty for even having that thought. You loved Ona, you knew that, you could feel it throughout your body, permeating your bones. Still, the thought remained at the back of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

By the time 4pm rolled around and Ona finally rang your doorbell, you were so bored and sick of your own thoughts you could scream. 

“Thank god you’re here,” you said as she came in. “I’m so bored I’m going to rip my hair out.”

“Oh, so you just want me around to keep you entertained?” Ona asked, a mischievous grin on her face. “I see how it is.”

“Yep,” you shrugged. “Gotta keep things interesting somehow, you know?”

Ona swallowed down the guilt rising in her throat as she thought about that morning. She couldn’t let you know anything had happened. It wasn’t going to happen again. It was a one-off, a mistake. “What have you been up to today?” she asked brightly.

Your stomach twisted as you thought about the videos of you and Alexia. “Not much,” you quickly said. “I looked myself up online a bit, but there’s only so many times I can read my own wikipedia page before I start to feel like a narcissist.”

Ona laughed, not questioning your day’s activities any further, and the wave of relief you felt was tinged with shame.

[forzaferraris]

UH OH ! — cl16. [ series masterlist . part ii . ]

CHAPTER ONE / gorgeous.

❛ you should take it as a compliment, that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talked. ❜

summary : usually, birthday parties are supposed to be a close friend's and family celebration, so why on earth are you being dragged along as your friend's plus one?

warnings : implied references to cheating. food mentions. vomiting mentions but not explicitly written. sexual themes, inuendos. a purposeful choice to refuse to write without capital letters. too many taylor swift references. google translated french. no use of y/n but reader is referred to as soleil by charles and that transfers on through all the fic. charles leclerc's toxic relationship. alcohol consumption, drink responsibly. suddenly charles leclerc is actually decent at flirting. inaccurate storyline of pierre's birthday. 2023's silly season just got sillier. live laugh love kika gomes. word count : 1.7k

yourusername just posted to her story . . .

[ caption one: hot girls always do skincare 🧖🏻‍♀️ / caption two: i fear i girlbossed to close to the sun, how did i end up here ⁉️🤨 ]

THE STREETS OF PARIS , were lively enough that you could blend in seamlessly, everyone else dressed essentially to the nines in their finest attire, walking in and out of all the restaurants in the vicinity. you want to cower, wrap the shall around yourself tighter and hide away; you'd never felt more insecure and out of place in the entire month you'd been vacationing in france, until this very moment.

everyone around you exudes the amount of confidence that comes naturally to them that you wished you had, even if you felt genuinely good in the outfit Kika had practically forced you in when you'd briefly mentioned having nothing to wear to the event she'd asked you to tag along to. a part of you wants to remind yourself that you knew better than to expect things to play out differently, it wants to ridicule you for going back on your usual stance of always expecting disappointment to no longer feel disappointed.

you wave off a taxi that pulls beside you, you're already at your destination, and a fleeting wave of nausea makes you want to clench your gut, and hurl what little you'd eaten earlier throughout the day into the hedges beside you; you don't, thankfully. instead, you resort to the safety of your phone, back-and-forth bickering between your best friend and Kika to work up your nerves to get yourself inside the building.

you feel wobbly on your feet, something you will also plan to blame on Kika when you find the courage to get yourself to walk in through the door of the Laperouse, a considerably more elegant spot to eat at than you would have picked, you only dread the fear of looking over the menu and bearing witness to the prices of the food.

the ding of the bell above the door pulls your head out of your phone when you're met with the silhouette of quite possibly the most attractive man you'd ever had blessed your gaze — excluding that one time you'd run into lorenzo zurzolo on a girls trip to madrid and fumbled the whole ordeal so embarrassingly you had to block him on instagram to keep from ever seeing him.

his actions are almost more exaggerated in frustration than you'd plainly described to your friend, his hand is constantly dragging down his face when he pulls the phone away from his ear, promptly allowing you to hear the snippets of french being, basically, screamed through the phone at him. yikes. the phone call seems to drag on and the amount of time you've been staring at this man can be somewhat considered borderline stalking if he wasn't uninterested in the world outside the french screaming match on the phone.

deciding you'd done enough oogling to satiate for the brieft maladaptive day-dreaming you'll experience during mundane errands. with the very little courage you had, you wipe your hands on your dress, pitifully, and tuck your phone into the clutch before making your way inside. you're blissfully unaware of the way the man had turned towards the noise the heels of your shoes had made against the pavement, his attitude doing a complete 180 had him disregarding the remainder of the phone call before finally giving up, a defeated sigh follows the silence of the call being ended.

'i told you so. . .' your brain supplies when you feel even more out of place being inside said restaurant than how you were simply just standing outside of it, you felt both over and under-dressed watching the mass of patrons standing at the front bar along with the glimpses you could get inside the dining room from where you wait at the hostess stand.

"can i help you?" the hostess asks, words sleek with her french accent as she flicks her gaze up towards you before down at the booking book in front of her. you fiddle with your fingers, white-knuckling the black clutch, suddenly unable to find your own words. the woman rolls her eyes, and taps her perfectly manicured finger against the book and you visibly shake.

"elle est avec moi et la réservation Gasly" a voice speaks, standing behind you, close enough to be flush against you, but remaining a finger length away from you, refusing to lift your head, you don't dare look at who's just saved yourself from any more bouts of unwavering embarrassment for the night.

"profite de ta soirée" the hostess grins, it doesn't shine in her eyes and it's clearly a put-on customer service smile, forced to maintain a friendly atmosphere within the restaurant, you're allowing yourself to be lead through towards the private dining room, stepping away from the man, you mumble a simple thank you in your own butchered french pronunciation as you spot kika and find yourself attached to her hip for a majority of the night.

f1wagsgossip just posted to their story . . .

[ caption one: @yourusername spotted arriving at pierre's birthday party / caption two: @yourusername wearing the monot black maxi cutout ]

now, see if you weren't the type of person to be so easily persuaded into joining in on the drink festivities, you wouldn't have ended up with kika as one of your closest friends. you were never one to turn down alcohol, especially open bar alcohol; which is perhaps why you'd found yourself in a state of being a social butterfly, you'd floated around the room, meals long since eaten and cleared by the wait staff left people standing around and conversing.

mixtures of english, french and portuguese filling the room, bits and pieces of conversations you were picking up, but with your minimal understanding of french you found yourself avoiding anything beyond "hi how are you?" and introducing yourself, aside from that you smile and nodded before politely excusing yourself to float around once more.

"are you purposely ignoring me?" there it is, the sound that would haunt your best dreams and your worst nightmares; the shiver that runs up your spine makes you inadvertently cringe at yourself, how were you this reactive to a voice, you're going to blame the entire thing on the amount of sparkling moscato you'd been drinking by the glass.

"hm? no, no i'm not ignoring you?" you mock his accent, turning around to finally make eye contact with him, lips pursed into a line to keep yourself from giggling, the bubbles in your stomach is either your own nerves, the bubbly alcoholic beverage you'd consumed or a mixture of both — either way you feel content enough to be less than self-aware of the situation.

you can almost see the way he visibly lights up at the interaction, the way can't hold himself back from laughing at your attempt to mock his accent, the way his eyes crinkle and the laughter that follows the expression leaves you virtually speechless, you'd never been in a situation where someone, especially not a man. had ever laughed at you in a way that didn't feel the least bit mocking towards you; his laughter subsides and you feel yourself mourning the noise, head tilting to the side before he's taking a sip from his own glass.

"how do you know pierre?"

"through kika, she's the sole reason i'm here" you explain, gesturing with your hands as you talk, the conversation carries on throughout most of the night, new drinks replacing old ones all whilst the distance between the two of you closing inch by inch and shamelessly, perhaps even a little selfishly you allow it.

you allow more than just close proximity, you allow his knee to knock against your own, the hand to graze your waist as his arm moves around you to put his empty drink on the bar. you allow yourself to meet his gaze, hold it and find yourself lower and lower your own inhibitions. the good, the bad and the ugly of a man who hasn't asked for your name and whose name you hadn't bothered to ask for either.

perhaps, it's the events of the night that led you to here, in this heat of the moment pursuit of pure guiltless drunk happiness, lips against the nap of your neck in the back of a taxi, a hand dragging dangerously up your thigh, closer and closer to a spot you hadn't known longed to be touched until now. you're mutual shouts of laughter are shared through the streets of paris, leading into the hotel room you'd been staying in for the week, you're set to check out the next morning, but realistically, what's one night of parisian fun to end your trip with a bang, literally.

"soleil, fuck, the things you are doing to me right now" his voice comes out like a growl against your ear, his teeth dragging along your ear lobe and further down your neck, never biting, just allowing the feeling to pull the breathless noises out of you. your hand finds its way to nestle into his hair, grip tight and pull him away, the way he looks at you, a gaze you're all far too familiar with, lust.

god, had you wished you knew life wouldn't feel so horribly if you'd felt like this the entire time, the way the man finds himself home between your thighs, even as they clench around his head as soon as his tongue flicks against your abused and overly sensitive clit, fingers working their way in and out of your as you're pushed to complete your third orgasm — your hands griping the pillow behind your head, back arching as you moan out breathlessly, the needy coil in your stomach untangling once more as he pulls the orgasm out of you; your left breathless and shaking as your ride out the orgasm on his fingers.

his face is glistening with your juices; god if you were brave enough to take a picture you would have, he looked effortlessly pretty as he wiped his face with the back of his hand and finally pulled his fingers out of you to lick them clean.

you were royally screwed. even after you woke up in the morning, he was still asleep, but check-out was soon and there really wasn't any need to actively remain in the hotel room bed any longer, even if the man sleeping beside you was dreamy, even asleep, you knew alcohol-influenced one night stands were less than impressive to boast about the next morning. so you do the easiest thing to bypass awkward morning conversations, you leave a note with your number and leave.

yourusername just posted . . .

liked by francisca.cgomes, yourbestfriend and 489 others yourusername are you happy to have been in paris? oui! tagged francisca.cgomes

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user girl, what is that on your neck in the second pic?? ⤿ yourusername the question is are you a narc?

francisca.cgomes paris couldn't handle us for longer than a week ⤿yourusername where too next gf x

yourbestfriend i miss you come home ! ⤿yourusername i think i might find a new home ⤿yourbestfriend you're really gonna abandon our kids like that?

user since when have her an kika been friends? ⤿user since like forever, they grew up together

yoursisteruser look at you being a slut pookie, we love to see it ⤿yourusername get out of my comments blocked and reported ⤿yoursisteruser can you answer my facetime now, you got a lot of catching up to do, this is new name lore !!!

authors note : hi oh my god, so i'm absolutely nervous to actually have this be posted, it's not been beta read so i apologise in advance trying to edit this myself was the longest task i've come to find myself tethered to. i really like the plot of this story, the smut a lil dry because my smut writing is dry, we gotta work ourselves up to that, later chapters pookies, later chapters. i would have added more to the story, i'm like super inspired by this, but alas the 30 image limit said, no. so we gotta listen !

add yourself to the taglist here !

taglist : @iluminaya @greenbaby12 @therealcap @marshmummy

[qwordavoider]

Ok, I totally lied. I still have too many ideas for more important than blood, soooo it's not over yet. 🫣

I know I still had the epilogue planned, but now I am thinking about making this fic a series. So instead of just an epilogue, I am hoping to post a bunch of oneshots or short fics from the same universe. All the ideas I still have are small enough that they may not need a full chapter or long enough that putting them in an epilogue wouldn’t do them justice. Plus they are very disconnected so this setup makes the most sense going forward.

I finished the story I wanted to tell with the original 16 chapters so that is now a complete fic. This'll be something that I update as inspiration strikes and in between updating Parting Waves. With the episode airing today I don't think I am going to post anything to ao3, but as a thank you to everyone who read/is reading this here is a snippet that has been bouncing around in my head for a while!

For context, Tommy and Buck have been married for about a year in this. It will be expanded more when I post it on ao3🙂‍↕️

Liam ran out of the elementary school where he had started a kindergarten prep class for the summer. Buck smiled at the excited look on his son’s face. Glad he was enjoying it, despite being nervous for the first day.

Tommy was arguably the most nervous for Liam to start kindergarten, hence why they had enrolled him in this class. He had since relaxed as Liam had settled very well into the new routine. 

“Hi, Bubba! Where’s Dad?” he greeted. 

“Dad?” Buck was confused since he hadn’t talked about Connor in a long time outside of when they look at photos together. 

“Oh I meant Tommy, where’s Tommy,” he said and started kicking at the gravel beneath his feet, keeping his eyes trained directly on the ground.

Buck could already feel the tears in his eyes, “Liam, look at me please.”

His own eyes stared back at him as he continued, “Do you want to call Tommy, Dad?”

Liam just nodded rapidly and Buck could see the excitement behind his slight apprehension. 

“Ok well Tommy is still at work, but why don’t we plan something special to ask him if he’s okay with that?”

Liam cheered as he grabbed Buck’s hand and they walked to the car. Buck tried to discretely wipe away the tears that had started to slip out. Father’s Day was coming up soon and Buck had the perfect idea for how to celebrate.

tags (comment or reblog to be added): @chococara25 @inawickedlittletown @moonydanny @manifestingchaoticvibes @hummelinski @crimsonwildcat-blog @n1kkii @captainwitharedstar @javanicko @tommy-loves-evan

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 5.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 3,7K

tag: #what was that

summary: *sighs* Viktor feels things and again - he doesn't like it. This chapter is a few snippets of how they start recognizing each other. And it has a. lot. of. tension.

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Their disagreement from last week remained unaddressed. Both Viktor and Renly returned to work the following day, the tension between them noticeable enough for Jayce to take note. He asked questions, but they dismissed him.

“All good, just tired,” Renly offered with a faint smile, which failed to convince him. He decided not to pry but couldn't shake the sense that something was off. Viktor and Renly exchanged only the smallest of polite gestures, avoiding each other at all costs. It had been three business days plus the weekend, making today the fifth day. Renly made a mental note of that.

“As you wish,” Jayce huffed, clearly disappointed. “I’m done for today—off to see Mel. You two—please, resolve this. It’s unbearable,” he whined theatrically, waving them goodbye.

Renly couldn’t help herself. “Give our regards to the beautiful Mel Medarda!” she shouted after him as he fled the lab. Viktor flinched at her raised voice.

After Jayce’s departure, the lab fell quiet again. Renly worked at her station, but her focus wavered when she heard Viktor let out a sharp breath that dissolved into a barely contained cough. She glanced over, her brow furrowing. Viktor had been avoiding her all week, throwing himself into his work even more than usual. But today, something felt off.

His posture was rigid, his movements jerky as he adjusted the papers on his desk. His pale face, already drained from long hours in the lab, looked even more drawn than usual. A bead of sweat formed at his temple, and he paused to rub his chest, grimacing slightly. It wasn’t like him to appear so physically vulnerable—he was usually the picture of quiet resilience.

“Viktor,” she called softly, concern lacing her tone. “Are you alright?”

He glanced up, momentarily startled before composing himself. “I’m fine, Renly,” he replied, his voice carrying an air of forced normalcy. “Just a small issue.”

Renly didn’t believe him for a second. She stood up and approached his desk, her gaze studying him as he straightened. She noticed the subtle shifts in his posture, the way his hand lingered near his chest, and the sharp intakes of breath he was trying to mask.

“Viktor,” she said, her voice gentler now, “let me help.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, though his tone wavered, betraying his words.

Renly stepped closer, her expression firm but kind. “Let me help,” she insisted, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You’re not fine. You’re struggling to breathe.”

He stiffened under her touch, his pride warring with his discomfort. Viktor loathed appearing weak, hated the thought of anyone having to step in. But this morning, he’d made a mistake—he hadn’t secured the brace properly, and now the tightness in his chest had grown unbearable. He didn’t want to admit it, but he realized, as her hand remained on his arm, that he didn’t have the strength to argue.

“Please,” Renly said softly, her voice steady but imploring. “Let me help. You’re clearly in pain.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s nothing, really,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just... a small mistake.”

But Renly wasn’t backing down. Her eyes softened with understanding as she replied firmly, “It’s not nothing. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Let me make sure you’re comfortable.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, the space between them charged with silent tension. Viktor hated this—hated needing help. But Renly wasn’t asking out of pity; her tone held only care, a care he didn’t know how to process.

With a slow exhale, Viktor relented. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “But make it quick.”

Renly nodded, her heart racing as she moved closer. She had never been this close to him before, not like this. His usual guarded distance was something she had always respected, especially after their exchange the previous week. But today, his vulnerability was impossible to ignore.

She reached for the edge of his vest, carefully undoing the clasp before sliding her hands under his jacket. Her fingers brushed lightly against his shirt.

Viktor stiffened. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to look away. This wasn’t just about his brace—it was about her touch, the closeness that now felt impossible to ignore. Every movement she made felt too deliberate, too careful. Her fingers grazed his chest, and Viktor fought to steady his breathing.

Renly glanced up at him, pausing when she caught the look in his eyes. He was flushed, his usual composure slipping just enough for her to notice. Raising an eyebrow, she gave him a questioning glance. “Are you alright?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

“Y-yes,” Viktor stammered, immediately scolding himself for sounding so flustered. His mind raced, tangled in a mess of confusion and embarrassment. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, betraying him. Get a grip, Viktor. It’s just Renly. She’s just helping. She’s not thinking about you like that. Stop imagining things.

But silencing that voice was impossible, especially when her hands moved so gently over him. Her fingers carefully undid the buttons of his shirt with a precision that felt intentional, though he knew it wasn’t.

When she reached the last button and shifted the fabric aside, Viktor was painfully aware of the way her breath caught as her fingertips brushed against his skin. The heat of her touch burned through the thin fabric of his shirt, and his pulse spiked.

From Renly’s perspective, her fingers hesitated slightly on the last button of Viktor’s shirt. It wasn’t intentional—just a brief pause as the intimacy of the moment dawned on her. She was helping. That’s all this was.

But in that fleeting second, her gaze flicked to Viktor’s face. His expression was still guarded, though the faint flush creeping up his neck was unmistakable.

He looked… vulnerable. And that was the last thing Viktor ever allowed anyone to see.

What is wrong with me? Viktor thought desperately. Why does this feel… this shouldn’t feel like this.

Renly hadn’t meant to notice how close they were—how every small shift in his body seemed to ripple through her. His breathing, sharp and uneven, was a reminder that something had changed. Something had shifted between them.

And when his chest was fully exposed, Renly’s breath caught, completely unintentionally.

She’d wondered, for weeks now, what lay beneath the layers of clothing. Viktor always covered himself so completely, avoiding physical vulnerability at all costs. What had he hidden? What stories lay beneath the surface of this seemingly simple man?

Now, as she stood before him, her hands hovering above his skin, she finally had the answer.

Viktor’s chest was… nothing like what she had imagined. It wasn’t the flat, clinical thing she’d expected—no, it was far more intricate. His skin was pale, almost porcelain-like, dotted with a constellation of freckles and faint beauty marks she hadn’t seen before.

For weeks, she had idly speculated about the pattern they formed. What would it look like? What stories did they tell? Now, as her gaze lingered on the scattered markings, she realized they were as much a part of him as his mind—as much as the cool, calculating mask he wore every day.

The freckles stretched across his chest in delicate patterns, tracing the curve of his collarbone like stars scattered across a pale sky. A few darker spots near his ribs caught her attention, their irregular placement drawing her eyes. Most striking of all was a small mole near the base of his sternum, previously hidden under his layers of clothing. Renly found herself memorizing its outline, as though committing it to memory would unlock some secret part of him.

She caught herself staring. She wasn’t supposed to be looking at him like this. Her hands paused midair, a faint flush creeping onto her cheeks as she realized how intimate this moment had become. She had seen Viktor at his worst—angry, exhausted, distant. But never like this. Never so vulnerable. Even the infamous massage wasn’t this bad.

Quickly, she averted her gaze to his eyes, but the warmth of the moment lingered, thick and unshakable. She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. “Sorry,” she said softly, her voice breaking through the silence. The word felt awkward and out of place. She wasn’t sorry. Not really. But she had to say something to break the tension, to bring a sense of normalcy back to the room.

Viktor didn’t reply, but his jaw tightened, and his chest rose and fell sharply with each breath.

Her fingers brushed against his skin again, this time more intentionally, and she couldn’t ignore the shudder that passed through him. She was acutely aware of his discomfort—he didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Sorry,” she muttered again, her words more an attempt to soothe his unease than her own. He needed help, and she needed to focus.

“It’s not too tight, is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now, a soft edge of concern weaving through it.

Viktor shook his head quickly, his movements almost curt. “No, it’s fine. I just…” He hesitated, visibly uncomfortable. “I didn’t put it on properly this morning,” he admitted begrudgingly.

Of course, you didn’t, Renly thought, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Let me fix it,” she said gently, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her fingers steadied as she worked to loosen the brace. Viktor’s chest gradually relaxed, but the tension between them remained—his discomfort shifting into something else entirely. Something that neither of them could quite name.

As she adjusted the brace, Viktor remained still, though every part of him screamed for space. Her fingers moved slower than necessary, as though drawn out by some unspoken hesitation, caught between the task at hand and the intimacy of the moment.

She’s just helping. Just… just helping, Viktor told himself, but the words didn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck or the way his body tensed under her touch. He wanted to pull away, to put some distance between them—but he couldn’t. The way she helped—so careful, so deliberate—stirred something nameless inside him, something that lodged itself in his chest and refused to move.

When Renly finally finished, she stepped back, offering a soft smile. “There. That should feel better.” Her voice was meant to sound casual, but the uneven rhythm of her pulse betrayed her.

Viktor didn’t respond at first, his gaze shifting away from her as though retreating into himself. Renly could see the tension in his shoulders as he pulled his shirt back into place.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, his voice hoarse, as if speaking required an effort he wasn’t ready to give.

Renly nodded and turned back to the table. Her own pulse thundered in her ears, the weight of the moment still pressing down on her chest. The silence stretched between them, thick and palpable, until Viktor finally moved.

He stayed rooted to the spot a moment longer, his mind a storm of scolding thoughts. I should never have let her do that. His chest tightened again, though for an entirely different reason. I need to get control of myself.

***

Renly counted the brace mishap as just another incident—one that hadn’t eased their discomfort, only shifted it into a different shape. If anything, it had deepened the tension, left her hyperaware of how fragile their equilibrium was. She tried to act normal around Viktor, which settled Jayce down, but Viktor still brooded. That wasn’t new, but she couldn’t shake the way his reaction lingered in her thoughts.

For Viktor, the memory of her hands on him, her careful adjustments, lingered far longer than he wanted it to. He had replayed the moment too many times: her deliberate focus, the way her touch burned through layers of fabric and reason. It unsettled him in ways he couldn’t articulate, leaving him on edge every time she entered the lab.

It was better to work alone, he decided. When he was alone, nothing disrupted his focus—except, perhaps, the ghost of her fingers brushing against his skin, or the soft sound of her footsteps.

He didn’t look up when she entered the lab again. Her presence had become so familiar it felt woven into the air around him. She hummed softly as she sifted through the scattered papers on the table. He tried to focus on his work, but her presence clung to the edge of his awareness, a distraction he couldn’t shake.

She moved closer. Too close.

The warmth of her body brushed against his side as she leaned over him, and for a split second, Viktor stiffened. The prickling awareness returned, sharper now, a sensory echo of the brace incident that left him fighting for composure.

Her breath, warm and steady, skimmed his ear, sending a sharp pang through his chest. He stared at the notes, unseeing. The scent of her—faint, barely noticeable—still managed to take root in his thoughts.

When her fingers grazed his hand, reaching for a nearby tool, it was too much. He flinched.

Renly paused, glancing at him with that familiar curiosity. “Did I do something?” she asked lightly, though her tone carried an undercurrent of amusement.

Viktor cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “No. It’s fine,” he said, the words too quick, too clipped.

She lingered, studying him. “You’re sure? You seem—”

“I said it’s fine.” His voice sharpened, a little harsher than he intended, but it only betrayed the frustration simmering beneath his surface.

Renly tilted her head, her gaze softening with something Viktor couldn’t quite place. “I’m just getting the thing you asked for,” she said, her tone quieter now. “Is there a problem with… me being close?”

The question, so direct yet absurd, hung in the air. Viktor’s first instinct was to deny it outright, to push the entire notion aside, but his mind betrayed him with flashes of her hands adjusting the brace. Her proximity had been an issue then, and it was still an issue now. His hands trembled faintly, and he hated himself for it.

“No,” he said finally, though his voice wavered. “It’s just... unexpected.”

Her brows lifted slightly, her amusement fading, replaced by a flicker of concern. “Unexpected? Viktor, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. He turned to face her, his jaw tight, every muscle wound too tightly to relax. “It’s nothing. I just… work better with space.”

She didn’t step back immediately, instead watching him with that same quiet intensity that made him feel as though she saw through him. It left him exposed, the memory of her hands on him replaying once more, unbidden and too vivid.

After a moment, Renly took a small step back—not far enough to erase the tension, but enough to give him room to breathe. “Alright,” she said, her voice softer now. “I’ll try not to crowd you.”

The subtle shift in her tone only tightened Viktor’s chest further. She wasn’t offended, but her words carried something else, something that left him feeling raw and unsteady. He returned to his task, his fingers moving mechanically around the tools, but his thoughts were anywhere but his work.

Even now, with her at a distance, the phantom weight of her touch lingered. The moment she’d adjusted his brace had planted something in him he couldn’t explain, something that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

“Just… keep your distance,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost a quiet plea for normalcy. But deep down, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted normalcy anymore.

Renly didn’t respond right away, but he could feel her eyes on him, studying him like a puzzle she was determined to solve.

When she finally moved again, her hand brushed against his as she adjusted the settings on the machine beside him. And Viktor realized, with a sinking certainty, that there was no escaping the way she’d already begun to change everything.

***

The lab was silent except for the occasional hum of machinery and the scratch of pencil on paper. Viktor stood at his workstation, immersed in refining a circuit diagram, when Renly’s voice broke the stillness.

“Can you hand me the—actually, never mind, I’ll grab it,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the highest shelf above the central table.

Without waiting for a response, she rolled her sleeves up and climbed onto a low stool. Viktor glanced up briefly, prepared to make some quip about safety regulations, but the words caught in his throat.

As she stretched upward, the fabric of her shirt lifted slightly, exposing a sliver of bare skin at her waist. The faint curve of her hip, the dip of her lower back—it was unremarkable and yet, in this moment, utterly mesmerizing. A thin, black line trailed along her side, curving just beneath the edge of her shirt. A tattoo? The thought hit him unexpectedly, his mind already imagining where the line might lead, what shape it might take.

He quickly averted his gaze, his heart beating faster than it had any right to. What is wrong with you? he chastised himself. This was hardly the time for such distractions, and yet his thoughts refused to align themselves back into their usual, orderly formation.

“Got it,” Renly said triumphantly, stepping down with a vial of some volatile substance in hand. She turned toward him, oblivious to his predicament.

“Viktor? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes, fine,” he said too quickly, his voice betraying a faint edge of strain. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look her in the eye. “Perhaps next time... consider asking for help?”

Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t think you’d mind. I’ve seen you manage worse in here,” she replied with a playful shrug, her shirt shifting just enough to reveal the edge of that line again.

He quickly looked back down at his work, feigning intense focus on a set of calculations. “It is not a matter of minding. Merely... practicality.”

“If you say so,” she said, her tone light. Then, without warning: “Do I have ink on me or something?”

“What?” The question struck him like a hammer, his composure wavering for a fraction of a second.

“You keep glancing,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Viktor replied, far too quickly. “I was... inspecting your form. Your method. Reaching for objects, you could easily strain a muscle without proper—”

“Ah, safety lecture. Got it,” Renly interrupted, rolling her eyes but smiling. “You’re impossible.”

He let out a soft sigh, relieved she hadn’t pressed further. But even as she turned back to her workstation, Viktor couldn’t stop himself from imagining what the rest of that tattoo might look like, tracing shapes and stories across her skin.

The thought left him feeling both exhilarated and deeply foolish. He was not a man prone to flights of fancy—such indulgences were for those with time to waste. Yet, in the quiet hum of the lab, with her standing just a few feet away, Viktor couldn’t shake the image from his mind.

***

The hours stretched unbearably long in recent weeks. Renly had taken on extra work grading student’s papers for the academy. Jayce, meanwhile, had been relegated to fundraising duties, his charm making him the more suitable candidate of the two—himself and Viktor. And Viktor... Well, he had been so distracted lately that his workload had only grown, leaving him buried in a mountain of tasks.

His eyes drifted toward the sofa, where Renly had fallen asleep, a book loosely cradled in her hands. A faint smile tugged at his lips as her voice echoed in his mind: Ugh, these are supposed to be our finest and brightest? Those exams are nonsense!

She looked peaceful, her features softened in repose, completely unaware of his gaze. He had only meant to pass through the room, to check on a few things, but now he found himself lingering, studying her in silence.

The book in her hands caught his attention—a romance novel, its pages slightly bent and worn. It wasn’t the kind of reading material he would have expected her to enjoy. Renly, with her sharp wit and practical demeanour, didn’t seem like the type to indulge in frivolities like romance. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. She was full of contradictions: serious, but capable of unexpected lightness when no one was looking.

His gaze wandered to the tattoo peeking out from beneath the hem of her shirt. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed it, but this was the first time he allowed himself to really look. The design was intricate—delicate in a way that seemed at odds with her strength. The lines of ink formed a shape he couldn’t quite discern, and it struck him again how little he truly knew about her, despite everything they had shared.

The fact that she’d let him see it at all... let him see her in ways others hadn’t...

Viktor’s pulse quickened, his hand tightening on the edge of the workbench. He swallowed hard, an unspoken admonition running through his mind: Focus. He couldn’t afford distractions—not now, not when they were so close to a breakthrough. Not when there was so much left to do.

And yet, here she was. A soft, quiet distraction curled on the sofa, her tattoo barely visible beneath her clothes, her peaceful breathing filling the room like a gentle rhythm he couldn’t ignore.

Viktor couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to dwell on something so trivial. But with Renly, nothing ever felt trivial. Every glance felt weighted, every motion imbued with meaning he couldn’t quite untangle.

His eyes lingered on her face; her features framed by the tousled strands of her dark hair. Loose waves fell across her brow, some brushing her cheek. Her skin, smooth and pale, seemed to catch the dim light, casting a faint glow that made her seem almost ethereal. Her lips, slightly parted in sleep, drew his attention despite himself.

There were details he hadn’t noticed before: the faint curve of her jaw, the smattering of freckles like constellations across her nose, and a faint scar on her chin—small, but distinct. He wondered how she had gotten it, though he’d never dared to ask.

Something about her in this unguarded moment struck him with unfamiliar weight. She seemed so... real. So human, in a way he wasn’t used to confronting.

A soft sigh escaped him before he could suppress it.

“Focus,” he muttered under his breath, dragging his gaze away. The guilt gnawed at him for indulging, for allowing his thoughts to linger where they didn’t belong. What would she think if she knew? If she understood just how often he found himself watching her, studying her, wondering about her in ways he could hardly admit to himself? He grabbed a piece of chalk and turned to the equations on the board, desperate to lose himself in their cold certainty. But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, the image of her lingered. Her soft skin, the glimpse of the tattoo, the peaceful way she curled into the couch, the worn pages of her book—they clung to his thoughts like shadows he couldn’t escape.

[gioia-writes-and-others]

🦐🤔🦐 MIXED FRIED .....for REAL ?

(dump writer post / snippet / art in progress)

Thank you for the tag to @illarian-rambling HERE,

@the-golden-comet HERE , HERE and HERE,

@alinacapellabooks HERE , @tragedycoded HERE , and

@wyked-original-writing HERE

You're also tagged !! 💋💋

*****

This is more a general update as I reached a point in The Scarred Angel where I HAVE to tied up a few things before going further.... Truth of the last couple of months 🙄

The time for scenes and notes hapardazly written everywhere is OVER ! (Half joke and also LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL)

More seriously : I want to make sure I don't drop everything which will be a huge disappointment for several reasons.

ramble/snippet/art under the cut

Ashley would kick my ass / won't leave me alone if I do so (I know this for a fact)

I spent enough time already on TSA (summer 2023 since the first idea came up + about summer 2024 since actively working on it

The initial idea and characters still have reason to exist

Thing is :

It's the first time I work something this "complex" (?).... aka : I've done, I'm doing and I'll do again many "ERRORS" along the way. (Oh wait! Such goes life.....) I really need an OUTLINE at this point, even a gross one! I have an entire first arc of 6 zero draft chapters plus several others (the current wc is between 60000 and 70000 words) BUT most importantly : I feel the need of keep specific and steady angles to write MY story NOT someone's else. Those same angles that made me start in the first place. And apparently, rn, I have to dig and put them on my board to better keep an eye on it among the mass of infos, researches, things that need to happen, characters development, various other ideas .....+ all the interesting imputs I see around and along the way every day!

Additional note : my mother, that knows nothing about what I'm writing , just sent me a letter from Claudia Sheinbaum, actual mexican president, especially dedicated to "Mr DT" and "Mr EM" from "the rest of the world".

You can find the note on the internet and since a lot of TSA PLOT is about INFORMATION.....guess what? The letter slaps but we're not entirely sure she said so for real 😉

STILL .... it would be awesome if she did and since one of the main inspiration quotes for TSA is "everything happens for a reason", fuck yes, I'll take this as a sign too!

....To be continued.....

****

SNIPPET....

Back to the actual chp 1, draft zero, "Amy on the border"

....

My heart skips another beat.

Phil feared it was too soon yet, that I might not be ready to handle the new environment.

Probably me stopping the meds didn't help him accepting my initiative but it hasn't be  a problem for my chief editor who doesn't know anything about me.

Rather the opposite way around, no way I could have missed how much they were happy about someone volunteering for the assignment.

I'm a newbie in this line of work, just two months since I toke the job, and they accepted nonetheless to send me to cover about the challenging task the local police department must face every day in this powder keg that is THE border.

No kidding.

There is always something going on here, endless supply material for many and many articles.

'Same old, same old' is what I heard at the office among other casual comments and still, keeping an 'attentive eye' upon the border situation it's considered a must, so that when something significant seems to come up they do actually send a 'soldier on the battlefield' in order to get first hand information.

I'm nowhere near close to have my own opinion on the matter but I basically threw myself on the opportunity.

.........

ART

Amy doesn't know yet but Ashley's already out there ....

Tag NP and a drink 🍻☕🍷☕ 🍹🍻 let me see what you got

@kiennwrites @gaslightwestern @spottedleech

@bi0mass @legalownerofufoemoji @dragoninatrenchcoat

@bluefiredesire @aalinaaaaaa

@lunaeuphternal @zackprincebooks @wyked-rebellion

@vesanal @jev-urisk @badscientist

@peach-the-gospel @jacobwren @inadequatecowboy

@orphanheirs @riveriafalll @saturnine-saturneight

@cowboybrunch @words-after-midnight @the-letterbox-archives

@angofwords @topazadine @aintgonnatakethis

@deanwax @thecomfywriter @leahnardo-da-veggie

@lychhiker-writes @avaseofpeonies

@mapplesand @kaeru483 @lullabynorth

@theeccentricraven @willtheweaver @dnschmidt

@keeping-writing-frosty @ryns-ramblings @aspiring-dreamer

@rivenantiqnerd @pertweefan1970 @agirlandherquill

@innerthoughtsmonologue @noxxytocin @moltenwrites

+ OPEN

[thevalkyriesshadow]

Am I planning a D&D session or writing a fic for @houseofwindweek March 10th-16th? 🤔

If you guessed fanfiction, you're correct! 🤭

Summary: The House of Wind Gang, plus their good friend Balthazar, are meeting for their weekly game of Dungeons & Dragons. But this isn't just any regular game. This game marks two year of them playing Tomb of Annihilation together, so it's a super special night. Emerie, their Dungeon Master, asked them to come in costume. Little do they know, they're going to be playing the game -- in real life! The cool abilities their characters have, they have. The magic they wield, our favorite group of friends now wield. Hit points are totally a thing and 'ones' will be rolled. Will they survive bloodthirsty yuan-ti? Can they solve the ancient riddles of the tomb before it's too late? Will Nesta have a new awakening? Will Gwyn, Azriel, and Balthazar figure out their shit already and just kiss?! There's only one way to find out. And that's to Roll Initiative. 😈

And because I'm a HUGE dice goblin, I had to choose d20s for each of the characters, obviously. I'm going to use them throughout the fic to determine things like initiative and whether a skill check or magic spell will work. Hehe

I decided on their dice by factoring in their character in the books and the classes I chose for them, which are:

Nesta- Phoenix Sorcerery

Cassian- Path of the Giant Barbarian

Emerie- Dungeon Master

Azriel- Phantom Rogue

Gwyn- Circle of the Shepherd Druid

Balthazar- Cleric of the Tempest Domain

I'm thinking the first two chapters of the fic will post on Day Three: In/Out, and the rest on Day Seven: Free Day!

💖 Enjoy a little snippet until then! 💖

TW: Blood

We jog down the only other passageway and emerge into an underground cathedral. There’s a balcony, carved and sculpted with serpentine images at one end. Blood trickles from between the teeth of some carved serpent heads. It drips into a pool of thick crimson below. It flows into a trench that leads to a wide stone bowl set into the floor. On the other end of the room is a large cauldron. Not too unlike the one in our lore. Steam rises from it, accompanied by a fleshy odor that makes me want to gag.

In the center of it all is a dozen yuan-ti, crowding around an altar set to the far end of the room. They all turn and swivel their heads our way, hissing fills the room until it’s a low hum.

That’s when I spot Balthazar. Stripped of his gear and clothing. Leaving him as bare as the day he was born. His brown curls are soaked in blood – hopefully not his – and his eyes are wide with panic.

Then Emerie’s voice booms around the room.

“Initiative is as follows.” The yuan-ti begin to slither their way across the floor. Their half human-half snake bodies are adorned in jewels and slathered in blood and viscus. “Nesta, The Yuan-ti, Azriel, Balthazar, Cassian, then Gwyn –”

We huff and let out sounds of grumbling as we get into position. Hopefully the yuan-ti fuck up their first attacks…

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday 💋

Tagged by @tizniz @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie and @wikiangela. Thanks friends for the tag! Mwah! xx

Have some more from the last chapter of Rival Firefighters 🚒 . This may be the last snippet I share cos well, I don’t wanna share it all plus she’s almost done! Thinking of posting Chapter One next week sometime but am debating whether I should get a beta reader or just fuck it and ball 😅

Prev snippet here (btw snippets aren’t always in order. I post whatever tickles my fancy)

They make it to the bedroom and Eddie pushes Buck onto the bed, quickly stripping off his pants before removing his own clothes sans underwear. He turns to Buck, drinking in the sight of him lying on his bed in nothing but his come stained underwear, waiting for Eddie. It takes his breath away, his heart swelling with love and adoration for this man he is now lucky enough to call his own.

Without wasting any time, Eddie climbs onto the bed and straddles Buck's hips. He looks down at his best friend as he runs his hands over Buck's chest, feeling every muscle beneath his fingers. Buck is big and strong already, but he’d mentioned to Eddie that he wanted to get bigger. The thought of more Buck has Eddie almost salivating.

He leans down to capture Buck's lips again in a deep kiss while grinding against him, feeling their cocks rubbing together through the thin fabric of their boxers. Buck moans into the kiss and reaches up to tangle his fingers in Eddie’s hair, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss even further. Their bodies move together creating sparks of pleasure with each dirty grind.

“Fuck. I want to take you apart slowly,” Eddie says, the words tumbling out in a rush, his voice low and rough with desire, “spend an agonising amount of time showing you just how much I love you.” His gaze locks with Buck’s as he continues. “But right now I feel like if I don’t get inside you soon, I’m gonna die. I just,” he licks his lips and ducks his head feeling heat beginning to bloom high in his cheeks, “I want our first time together to be, I dunno, special.”

“Hey,” Buck brings a hand up to caress Eddie’s cheek, his fingers scraping along stubble, “it doesn’t matter if our first time is slow and missionary style or rough and dirty against a wall,” Buck replies, Eddie’s cock twitching at the mental image, “you could bend me over the kitchen counter and fuck me until I can’t stand and it’s still going to be special because it’s you and me.” He leans up to kiss Eddie softly on the lips.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @sibylsleaves @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @princessfbi @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @shitouttabuck @devirnis @bidisasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @goforkinard @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @jesuisici33 @neverevan @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @nmcggg @captain-hen @bekkachaos @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 @mellaithwen and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your offical tag 🏷️

[selunesdreams]

Just found out Eating Crow was scraped by AI. I know it’s no giant deal or anything but it feels…icky.

I spend a lot of time *actually* writing my work, even longer editing it, and also have a beta reader who puts in a lot of time and effort - for FREE. Maybe it’s an overreaction, but it bothers me to know someone could just type in a prompt and get phrases and thoughts that come from my personal experiences, or cleaned up passages I spent several evenings on after work because I wanted to get my readers something coherent and enjoyable. it really bothers me they can inject it into their own unoriginal work and turn a profit.

I won’t pretend I’m this generation’s next great writer, I’m definitely working at hobby-level, but I treat fic writing like a part time job sometimes, and I’m passionate about it. Maybe that’s silly, but it means a lot to know my writing has brought even one person an enjoyable hour or two, and contributing to a fandom that has been part of my life for 15+ years is important to me. Especially when fans are what is keeping this fandom going right now.

Anyway, sorry for the barely coherent string of run-on sentences. I’ll be posting links to AO3 for future chapters with snippets instead of full text on Tumblr, and setting it limited to registered users only (I have my tumblr settings already locked down but am just operating out of caution - plus copying and formatting full chapters here is a lot of work and I’m trying to stop burning myself out).

If you prefer to not use AO3, feel free to reach out and I’ll send you the chapter via email or something! x

[voxofthevoid]

Yo, time for Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #5 👁

The fic has currently stalled at a hefty 41k because I've been writing sukuita nonstop for around a month now (Gojou's still two chapters and probably over 10k away) and snapped from goyuu withdrawal. Poking at a quick-and-dirty goyuu oneshot that's...dirty for sure but not quick at all. All @nearalways's fault, again.

Anyway, to switch it up from the creepy church demon sex that's been happening over the last few posts, this week's snippet is entirely a conversation between Yuuji and Megumi. Enjoy?

“Do you think having sex makes it harder to jerk off on your own?”

Fushiguro chokes on nothing, whipping his head around to stare at Yuuji with eyes that’re twice their usual size. “What.”

“Y’know…” Yuuji gestures. Fushiguro’s expression screams that he does not know. He looks a little like he doesn’t want to know anything ever again, really. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m just asking!”

Fushiguro sucks in a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut so tight that it hurts to look at. “Why are you asking me?”

“Who else? You saw how Kugisaki reacted when I asked her about sex. She’d rip my dick off.”

“I,” Fushiguro grits out, “will rip your dick off.”

Yuuji gasps. “You wouldn’t!”

Fushiguro’s eyes narrow. “You sure?”

Yuuji opens his mouth to say yes, but…he can’t. Even narrowed like this, there’s too much white in Fushiguro’s eyes. He looks a little crazy, just in a cute way. Yuuji definitely shouldn’t tell him that.

But he does need to tell him something so that Fushiguro won’t get any ideas about the scissors on his table.

“Your dad would think that’s foreplay,” Yuuji states confidently. “And we don’t want that.”

Fushiguro makes a noise. “What the hell, Itadori?”

“Yeah, I’ve been saying that a lot too,” Yuuji mutters, gesturing at his crotch.

Fushiguro’s eyes drop and dart back to Yuuji’s face, wider and wilder than a second ago. “Itadori!”

“I can’t get off anymore,” Yuuji blurts out in self-defense. “No, I mean—I can. I could, with him. But I can’t jerk off properly. It gets hard, but I can’t, y’know, finish.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Fushiguro asks. His tone is kinda weird; Yuuji can’t tell whether it’s despairing or curious. Incredulous either way, just like the way he’s looking at Yuuji. “How are you telling me this?”

“Huh?” Yuuji slides down till he’s lying fully on Fushiguro’s bed. For good measure, he turns onto his front, keeping his dick out of sight and snipping distance. “You’re a guy too. I figured you’d get it.”

“I don’t,” Fushiguro says repressively. Then, after a long moment of very loud silence— “What do you mean you can’t…finish?”

“I can’t come.”

“I got that.” Fushiguro sighs, putting his book away and leaning forward in the chair, all his attention on Yuuji. Usually, Yuuji would sit up straighter in response—Fushiguro can get really intense—but right now, he’s more interested in protecting his dick. Plus, this mattress is comfortable. “I have no practical experience with sex, but I’m fairly sure doing it with someone doesn’t mean you can’t give yourself a hand. That’s basic biology.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, and it’s not like it’s been like this the whole time, just…” Yuuji blinks, realizing several beats too late what else Fushiguro just said. “So you are a virgin!”

“Not the point!” Fushiguro snaps.

“Alright, alright. Hey, I’m not judging you, I swear. I also didn’t—”

“Itadori,” Fushiguro cuts in sharply, “focus.”

“Right…” Yuuji thinks for a moment, trying to find words that won’t spook Fushiguro—or piss him off. He’s already almost glaring. “There wasn’t anything weird at first, even after I started fucking him. Doing him felt better than my hand, obviously, but I still jerked off all the time. More than usual. I was horny all the time. I’m still horny all the time.”

“You sound like some sex addict,” Fushiguro says with a grimace. But his cheeks are a faint pink.

Yuuji shrugs. “Maybe. Kind of. It’s not the sex, it’s—”

It’s the place. That church. Except not really. Deep inside, Yuuji knows that the church is just set dressing. It’s the priest who’s the problem. Everything Sukuna is, everything he makes Yuuji feel—addiction isn’t really a wrong way to put it. Yuuji’s never felt anything like it before; he’s never wanted anything like it.

Sometimes—a lot of the time, more and more often this last week especially—it’s a physical need, a hollow ache that haunts his gut and his bones.

His dick too.

“It’s…?” Fushiguro prods after Yuuji’s silent for a while.

Yuuji blinks at him, refocusing. “It’s him.”

Fushiguro makes a noise in his throat, like he was expecting that answer but doesn’t like it much. Yuuji can’t blame him. He doesn’t like it either.

“You really like that guy so much?” Fushiguro asks.

“Ugh.” Yuuji shoves his face into the mattress, suffocating in the darkness for a few blissful seconds. Then— “No. Hell no. He’s an asshole. Nobody would like him.”

Yuuji still doesn’t understand why he’s apparently popular among the churchgoers. He’s never brought it up with Fushiguro and Kugisaki after telling him he’s fucking a guy because he wouldn’t put it past them to put two and two together. They’re both weirdly intuitive, and together, they’re worse. Plus, Yuuji’s not the best liar.

But Fushiguro’s looking at him like he’s lying right now, and that’s very unwarranted.

“It’s true,” Yuuji insists. “I never ever want you guys to meet. He’s that bad.”

Fushiguro blinks very slowly. “And this is the guy you’re dating?”

“We’re not dating!”

Shockingly, that doesn’t seem to help.

“Having sex then,” Fushiguro says, his frown deepening. “That’s worse. Makes it sound like—”

Yuuji waits, pushing himself up for his forearms for a more level view of Fushiguro’s expression. It’s twisted into dark lines; Yuuji can recognize displeasure and disapproval, but there’s more there, he can tell.

“Fushiguro?”

Fushiguro lowers his eyes, scowling at the floor. “Never mind.”

“But—”

“Are you being safe?”

Yuuji’s jaw clicks shut. “Um…”

Fushiguro’s eyes snap back to his face. “Itadori!”

“Define safe?” Yuuji ventures.

Fushiguro drags a hand down his face, skin catching on skin in a way that makes Yuuji wince in sympathy. “How do you get into these situations? You’ve been here for less than six months.”

“Hey, you make it sound like I do dumb shit all the time!”

“You do,” Fushiguro says mercilessly. “At least you admit this is stupid.”

“Yeah, well…” Yuuji flattens himself against the bed again. “The sex is really good though.”

“How would you know? He’s your first too.”

“That’s true. But he’s kind of a freak. I didn’t even know—”

“No,” Fushiguro interrupts, his tone flat but still cutting. “No details. I don’t want to hear this.”

“Fair enough,” Yuuji says, but then something occurs to him. “Is it because he’s a guy?”

“Huh? What—” Realization widens Fushiguro’s eyes, which narrow right after. “No. That’s not it. I’m fine with that.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“I am,” Fushiguro says more firmly; Yuuji can see his fists clench. “I’d be a hypocrite otherwise.”

Yuuji frowns at him, trying to— “Oh. Oh. So you’re—”

“Yes. Still not the point.”

“I don’t think we have a point anymore,” Yuuji muses. He sits up, finally, shifting to perch on the edge of the bed, mirroring Fushiguro’s pose on the chair. It’s as close as he can get to the guy without walking over there, and the way Fushiguro’s staring at him says he might bite if Yuuji does that. “Thanks for telling me, Fushiguro.”

“Oh, for—” Fushiguro looks away furiously. “It’s not like you couldn’t guess anyway.”

“I…didn’t really think about it? I mean, there’s all the stuff your dad says, but—”

“Shut up,” Fushiguro hisses. “Go back to talking about your sex addiction.”

“Do we have to?”

“You brought it up.”

Yeah, fair point. Yuuji’s not sure what he was hoping to achieve. But Fushiguro’s pretty much the only person he can talk to about it. The internet wasn’t helpful. Hell, parts of it were trying to say his balls weren’t working because of cancer or something. Yuuji’s not opposed to calling Sukuna a kind of disease, but it’s not literal.

And thinking about Sukuna is a bad idea because there’s a lot to remember, most of it not innocent, and Yuuji’s dick is on a hair trigger these days. Heat pools between his legs, and Yuuji grabs the nearest pillow, putting it on his lap.

Fushiguro’s confused for only a single second. “Are you kidding me?!”

“I haven’t come in a week,” Yuuji whines.

“You—” Fushiguro looks pleadingly at the ceiling. But nothing there seems to help him any. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just…go fuck the guy.”

“I can’t,” Yuuji whines again.

“Why,” Fushiguro grits out, “not?”

Yuuji tries to figure out how to put it without giving away that he’s going to the church to fuck its weird, creepy priest who may or may not be infesting his dreams.

He settles on, “He’s only available at night. And Nanamin’s back now, so I can’t just leave like I used to.”

“But you don’t have a curfew or anything.”

“Yeah, but—” Yuuji gestures. “He’d have questions if I came back in that state. And it’s his house. I don’t want to be rude.”

Fushiguro’s expression softens. “At least you have some sense.”

“Hey!”

[iprefervillains]

Hangster Dating Podcast: 🃏 + 🧭 + ✍️?

Too hot to handle hangster AU: 👥+ 🃏 ?

👀💙💛💙

Hello again, Nixie! 🤭

⭐The Hangster dating podcast fic⭐

I love that you are so hyped for the fic! 💛

Let's start with "What made you start writing it?"

I was listening to a dating podcast while puzzling sometime in September last year. The podcast was basically two best friends sharing stories and reading community messages about dating and I enjoyed it a lot. My brain then instantly decided to make it Hangster. The ideas for it where just flowing, so I then turned it into a fic. I'm gonna be honest, I would have never written it, if my first fic "I wanna bring you home myself" hadn't gotten so much nice feedback, so I'm really thankful for that. 😊

Has it changed from your original plan?

Definitely! Originally there was only one month between them meeting and Jake hearing about the podcast from Mickey and the vibe was going to be more lighthearted too, with Jake hearing Bradley drop the L-word and being super happy about it. Here is the original idea.

Answer the question you wish someone would ask you, or share a background detail, or a snippet or line!

I unfortunately haven't started on writing the final chapter yet, so I can't give you a snippet or a line. What I can tell you is that I'm this 🤏 close to uploading a prequel with Goose, Carole and Slider. Plus I'm very tempted to further the dating podcast universe by writing a fic about Halo and Phoenix getting back together and turning Nick Bradshaw's Birthday BBQ into a story with Outsider POV on Hangster but we will see!

⭐Too hot too handle Hangster AU⭐

I already dropped a little about the POV in the fic in this post, so I'm combining the POV ask with the wildcard ask and give you a snippet, that makes me absolutely adore the dual POV:

[...] He sounded, dare Jake say it, jealous. Just a bit, just enough to have a pool of warmth rise in Jake’s stomach. “I did offer to give her a Bridgerton worthy air hand kiss after Lana told us we had one free smooch, but she kindly declined. So yeah, that’s it.” Honesty was the best policy after all.

Instant POV Switch

They didn’t kiss. Jake could have Scot-free kissed a no doubt beautiful lady but didn’t. He had chosen to keep his word to Bradley instead. Despite the fact that they weren’t a real couple, despite the fact that he must be incredibly pent up after three weeks of no action. Bradley felt way more ecstatic about this than he should. The vice gripping his heart finally loosening after several hours picturing the worst. [...]

Thank you for asking! I hope you are happy with the answers. 💛💛

~ M

[theincantation-if]

hi there.

just found your blog randomly and so far the premise sounds really interesting. i definetly follow you and your progress. some questions i have:

you mention the opportunity to either "save the kingdom or doom it to eternity". does this mean there will be a good & evil path/ending(s)? or did you write it to increase the tention? (like the text on the back of a boardgame usually says "can you defeat the evil necromancer skelly skellington or doom the world?")

if there are different endings (not necessary good vs evil) will every RO be available? or can they at some point break up with MC or even becoming MC´s enemies (e.g. if romancing evander and go for the evil/destruction of the kingdom path, that would likely to lead to a break up/becoming enemies)

could you maybe explain de Peyster`s trope a bit more? never heard of the trope "sworn off love". maybe because english is not my native language?

how regualary are you planning to update? dont get me wrong. im a firm believer in letting someone take their time rather than rushing. i simply had to many cases (to be honest just recently) where someone made an introduction post for their IF in 2023, only to release the first chapter in the beginning of may 2025. and in those cases i got attached to the story and was quite hurt, when suddenly they were abandoned without notice.

thank you for your answer. im excited for the prologue/chapter 1.

hi! thank you so much, these are all really good questions. i'll answer them under the cut because it's a lot of information. i hope this can give everyone some insight and if there's any confusion i'll try to explain the best i can.

1. when i say mc has the opportunity to save the kingdom or doom it, it's literal. however, it might not be the "burn the city down" idea everyone would want. mc has a good/evil stat but it doesn't just affect mc, it affects the ro's as well. for instance, if they were abducted - if mc chose to kill their attackers (evil trait) it would raise teddy's bloodthirst / maeryn's wrath but lower evander's justice / hartford's empathy. these are all traits that affect how the ro's impact the world, so if you wanted evander to become a ruler that starts wars just for fun you could lower his justice trait and he'd do whatever he wanted.

2. the endings work with mc's good and evil traits plus the impact of the ro's. i wouldn't necessarily say they'll break up with mc if their paths don't align, more so they'll try to convince themselves that mc knows what they are doing because mc is technically the most powerful person (with magic) in the kingdom. all the ro's love the mc, even if they become the monster in the story. it's really the mc who can choose to not love the ro if they become the monster.

3. teddy's sworn off love trope essentially means that they will never allow themselves to be in love with anyone (or so they think). it stems from their relationship with their parents which you'll see more of in game and how the way they were raised shaped their idea of love into something that makes them weak. ((teddy will be in love with the mc, if you chose to romance them though, they'll just take more time to realize that it doesn't have to be something that destroys them))

4. i’m planning to update as regularly as i can, the prologue is already done (however it is quite short at 1.5k) and i'm working on chapter one currently. for the most part, i will say it definitely won't take me two years to release the first chapter. i've already written out plot points for each chapter and snippets of future scenes. my philosophy is to simple write out the story and add in the coding once that is over. i'm more experienced as a writer so that part comes naturally, it's the coding part that will take me longer to grasp (mainly the variables/stats i'll need to track). however, i will do my absolute best to keep everyone updated on the progress of the story as it continues.

[ihatehugo]

hey!!! if you enjoy varian and the seven kingdoms please stop scrolling for just a moment!!!!

so i know there are multiple fanfiction creators who have written their own versions of vat7k and i love and have read each and every one of them

i decided i wanted to join in on the fun and so i’ve been working on my own version of vat7k for over a year now

i’ve split it into three books plus a prequel and a sequel. each book (minus the prequel & sequal) have 22 chapters each. the prequel & sequel will have around 1-10 chapters (it depends on how long the written portion is)

i wanted to make my series have a similar vibe to an actual tv show so the chapters will be posted as if they are episodes. for example, one chapter will be lore based and another will be similar to a filler episode.

sadly, i’m still working on it and it probably won’t be done anytime soon but i do have a decent portion of it created. i have an idea for what to put into each chapter and am working on the details of each chapter. i’ve also written a few snippets here and there and here’s one from the prequel, After Ever After:

Varian’s pacing. He knows he’s pacing but by the Sun, he’s angry. For years, he’s wanted to know more about his mother. For years, he’s begged to hear stories about her. For years, he’s lived off of the small scraps that his father gave to him, only to learn that he has been keeping a key component about his mother from him.

His mother’s journal sits before him on Xavier’s table, a deep forest green with a symbol engraved upon it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it's mocking him. Just when he made peace with the fact that nothing will ever change in Corona, this journal pops into existence as a big “fuck you!” to Varian’s mental wellbeing.

Xavier has been watching him patiently, having already picked his way through the journal. Varian stubbornly refuses to be the one to speak first but Xavier is just staring at him, his eyes following the path Varian is making into his floor.

Varian doesn’t speak for several more seconds before he demands: “So? What does it mean? What are the Seven Trials and why was my mom so obsessed with it?”

“Ah, yes, the Seven Trials,” Xavier enunciates. He rubs his chin as a faraway look passes over his face. “It is an old tale but one worth revisiting.”

“Oh, would you quit it?” Varian snaps. He stops pacing and stands across from Xavier, arms crossed and his foot tapping the ground repeatedly. “I really don’t want a long winded explanation right now.”

Xavier chuckles. “Very well. I will keep my story short. The Seven Trials were a test made long ago by Demanitus himself.”

Varian’s foot falls with a final thump. “Demanitus? My mom followed his studies too?”

“It would seem so.” Xavier gently picks up the journal and flicks through the pages. He stops about midway through the book and turns it for Varian to see. “And it also seems like she got very close to her goal.”

The entry on the page is annoyingly vague. The main phrases he gets from it are words he’s already read when he skimmed through it earlier. “The Eternal Library” particularly stands out to him. He could have sworn he heard it somewhere before.

When he rereads the paragraph, though, he puts together pieces that he had taken for granted before. Most of it doesn’t make any sense because she’s using key words only she obviously knows but Varian gets the gist of it. She completed all of the trials and found the location of the Eternal Library.

that’s all i have for that right now

if you have any questions, feel free to ask

and if you have suggestions, i’d be happy to hear them! i can’t promise any of them will make the cut but if they do, i’ll make sure to credit whoever’s idea it originally was

thank you for reading! if any of you are interested i might be able to post more snippets of it

[qwordavoider]

Tibit Thursday

This is almost a tidbit Friday post and nobody tagged me, but I wanted to give y'all a little of the next chapter of Parting Waves since it probably won't be posted until Saturday. The title of this chapter is Recover.

About halfway through the movie, Jackson was out like a light. Tommy didn’t want to interrupt the moment, so he was content to just sit silently. Ava was still sleeping soundly on his chest and Jackson was curled up into Evan’s side so he didn’t dare shift more than his head as he turned to look at Evan. Tommy found him already watching with a small smile on his face. 

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing, you just look very hot with a baby sleeping on your chest,” Evan replied with a knowing smile.

Tommy chuckled to hopefully hide his blush at Evan’s compliment. He quipped back, “So we’ve elevated from touches and showing off your abs to flattery. What did I do to deserve that?”

Evan hummed, “Nothing. Just for being you.”

And Tommy was slightly ashamed to admit how much it meant to him that Evan said that. It was also hard to accept. He never received compliments simply for being himself. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Luckily Evan continued to conversation, “Do you ever want this someday?”

Tommy knew he was talking about kids, but joked, “Want what? This amazingly comfortable couch? I don't know that I am in the market for a new one right now.”

More below the cut

Evan just rolled his eyes at him, “No, silly. I mean kids.” 

Tommy paused and thought about how much he wanted to reveal. He figured if anyone deserved the truth it was Evan. So he replied, “Not really. My dad was terrible and I never wanted to turn out like him. Plus I hadn’t met anyone that I wanted to have kids with. So I never really thought about it.”

What Tommy didn’t say was that after seeing Evan with Jackson, a sliver of hope that he could one day have kids, had planted itself in a deep corner of his brain. 

Evan unaware of his thoughts responded, “I think you would be a great dad. I mean look at how you already are with these two.”

Tommy gave him a small smile before he asked, “What about you?”

“Well I have always loved kids and I definitely want my own someday… with the right person.”

The way that Evan looked at him, with such hope in his eyes, made Tommy’s breath catch. He wasn’t an idiot and knew that Evan was insinuating that he wanted to have kids with Tommy. Which was an insane notion since they hadn’t even kissed yet, let alone dated or gotten to a serious relationship level where they discussed kids. Another part of his disbelief was fueled by his inner self-doubt creeping in, telling him that Evan deserved so much better than what Tommy could offer.

These are just the Parting Waves tags because it's almost Friday, so absolutely no pressure to post anything. I mostly just wanted you all to be able to enjoy this little snippet <3

tags: @consulting-goddess-of-deductions @sensitivescream @inawickedlittletown @walkedthroughfires @cannibalhellhound @fenrirscarsback @nochance-noway @meltedredweasels @moonydanny @thestrangestthlng @the-little-red-queen @sagahaft @tommy-loves-evan @deansmilo @fierybuck @manifestingchaoticvibes @javanicko @chococara25 @911coded @911-is-my-emergency @harmonic-intervention @teabroomsandbooks @comeon-intothemadhouse @sweaters-and-silly @magdad @n1kkii @nephilimeq @partofthelouniverse @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @angelus-bellator @sleepy-lazy-loser @sassybeautydiysports @dandelioncasey @sporadicmakerwerewolf @eliotwaughdeservesbetter

[floating-in-the-blue]

Happy Wip Anniversary: Alex Adoption Fic

On 17th of May, 2022 I started writing this story that had previously only lived as an indulgent fantasy in my head. A story about Alex getting thrown out of his home for being who he is, and being accepted into a different family for being who he is, and finding love for being who he is. Aka: Hurt - Comfort - Fluff.

Three years later, I've got about 80k and am still not finished (sob). Though I have published 33 other fics in that time so there's that at least. But what can I say, multi-chapters are not my natural habitat. But I'm still working on it on and off. Hopefully, by next year I will have finished it and started actually posting chapters.

I do have a series on AO3 for it (thanks to a different POV wip prompt), so if you want to subscribe so you don't miss the start of posting, I'd be more than thrilled :D

In the meantime, have one extra extra long snippet under the cut in celebration (containing spoilers, duh). I hope you like it <3

Note: There is no actual adoption in the Alex Adoption Fic but this is the important day in Alex's life when Emily and Mitch Patterson become his legal guardians (aka Chapter 17) Alex had spent a lot of time thinking about the day of the court hearing these last few weeks. He hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about waking up on the day. He’d assumed he wouldn’t get much sleep and once Willie had announced his plan of staying overnight, that assumption hadn’t changed, though for different reasons.

He’d been wrong.

Although falling asleep had proven difficult, once he’d managed that, he’d slept soundly through till the next morning until Emily woke him and he opened his eyes to Willie’s face next to his.

It was a weirdly assembled feeling. One part insisting that nothing had ever felt more right and normal, as if he and Willie had already spent innumerable nights together; the other part freaking out over being this close to Willie, having been this close to Willie for hours, sharing the same warmth, the same air, the same blanket and pillow.

He cleared his throat and blinked and croaked out a “good morning” that Willie returned with a huge smile.

Alex was all too aware of Luke bustling about behind him and so he turned his head and croaked out another, louder “good morning,” that Luke cheerfully returned.

“I’ll use the bathroom first,” Luke announced and slipped out of the room with a teasing grin and a wink.

“Yeah, I … okay,” Alex mumbled in the direction of the now closed door, unsure how to disentangle himself from Willie.

Not that he wouldn’t have loved to stay right here in bed, in his boyfriend’s arms for an eternity or two, but since that wasn’t an option, he felt incredibly awkward.

He wasn’t sure if Willie sensed it but, in any case, he sat up and shifted a little away from Alex, towards the wall, and Alex swiftly sat up as well, facing him.

“You sleep okay?” Willie asked, trying to comb through his hair with his fingers.

Alex’s mouth was dry at the sight of Willie wearing his t-shirt, sitting in his bed. After a second, he shook himself out of his thoughts and shrugged. “Better than I expected, to be honest.” He fumbled with his own bracelet, unable to keep eye contact. “Thank you, Willie.”

“Hey, I’m happy if I could help, pancake. Plus, you know, it wasn’t exactly a hardship or anything like that.”

Willie lightly punched his upper arm and Alex couldn’t help the smile overtaking his face.

“Did you sleep okay? Any more weird dreams?” he asked, finally looking up at his boyfriend again.

Willie hummed a little, nodding his head from side to side as he thought, fingers still absent-mindedly combing through his hair.

“Hm … I did dream about going to this pretty cool shop with … someone? I think it was my Mom but I’m not sure. Anyway, they had all sorts of knickknacks and stuff on a table in the middle of the room and then I found a room in the back where people were playing some board game that looked kinda cool. There was another room behind them with more games but I couldn’t really get to that. Didn’t want to bother the people, you know. But then I discovered that there was this wicked cool buffet lining the first room with all sorts of food though I’m not sure where people were supposed to sit and eat?” 

“… that sounds pretty cool?” Alex ventured after Willie had mused over this question in silence for a while.

Willie shrugged. “Yeah, it was pretty cool. I’m always fascinated by the details my brain comes up with, you know? But anyway, they sold Harry Potter napkins, so: not so cool after all, really.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. How disappointing.”

“I know, right?” Willie huffed out an exaggerated sigh and finally gave up on combing through his hair. “Did you dream anything?”

Alex tried to think but there was pretty much just a blank in his mind where he’d been asleep. “No. I’m glad about it though. This day’s gonna be enough of a nightmare anyway, I guess.”

Willie’s face softened. “Well, you won’t have to live through it alone, at least.”

Alex swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and just nodded. He was glad that Willie didn’t try to convince him it wouldn’t be a nightmare. That everything would be fine and peachy.

Luke returned just then and so Alex and Willie finally scrambled out of bed, Willie going to the bathroom while Alex endured a well-meaning pep talk from Luke. He was grateful, more than that really, that Luke continued to be so stoked for Alex living with them and becoming his ‘real brother’. Alex had given up on reminding him that they wouldn’t really be brothers since he wasn’t getting adopted. Mitch and Emily just would be his legal guardians.

Still, he sighed in relief as Willie returned and it was his time for a trip to the bathroom. He didn’t look into the mirror, just went through his routine as fast as he could. 

Only to then suffer through an uncomfortable breakfast where everyone was too nervous to really eat anything and there were constant glances at watches. Willie and Luke put a decent dent into the food but Emily and Mitch mostly just picked at theirs and Alex flat out refused any food. His stomach was already filled with so much anxiety, food wouldn’t mix well with that. 

At Emily’s urging though, he managed to at least nibble on a toast for a bit. She’d put on her stern Mom/nurse face so he had to give in.

After breakfast, they got ready. Which mostly meant Mitch and Emily gathering their papers and purse respectively, as well as the car keys. Alex just shoved his hands into the pouch of his hoodie with Willie and Luke at his sides. His own personal bodyguards and cheer squad. It did feel a little like going to his execution.

Alex stared straight ahead all through the drive to the court house. He was squeezed into the middle of the backseat, Luke on his left, Willie on his right. He had a suspicion that both were leaning into him a little more than strictly necessary.

His lips were dry and flaky but he kept on chewing them, watching the road ahead.

They were early but none of them had wanted to be late and they were all unfamiliar with the courthouse. 

Bobby was already waiting for them, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jacket, face grim but he mustered up a little smile for Alex, who nodded.

It all seemed so unreal. He felt more like a marionette than a person.

Reggie ran up about five minutes later, face flushed, a huge grin on his face. He clapped Alex enthusiastically on the shoulder, declaring that everything would surely go absolutely great.

Except nothing was great about this.

Surrounded by his friends, Willie, and Luke’s parents, Alex stalked into the courthouse on stiff legs, hands clenched into fists inside the hoodie pouch. He’d left his baseball cap behind and fervently wished he could pull up his hood and disappear.

He moved on autopilot, following wherever the rest were leading him. Herding him, more like. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t have found the right room on his own in any case.

There was a tremor in his every muscle, so faint as from a distant earthquake but he knew it was because he’d started to unravel from inside. Hiding in his brain, his flesh, disconnecting himself from everything.

Breathe. He had to breathe.

The others had become vague shapes, blurred, shadowy. There were voices but none of the words made sense.

He just had to follow them. Just had to breathe.

His legs itched to run, his fight or flight instinct pointing firmly to ‘flight’ but flight was impossible. As was fight.

So he followed. And breathed.

At last they stopped in some corridor. There was a bench and gentle hands were urging him to sit down but he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get up again if he sat down now so he resisted. 

The gentle pressure disappeared from his shoulder and he was left standing.

Voices washed around him as white noise while Alex breathed.

Time had lost all meaning and he couldn’t have said whether they waited for five minutes or five hours.

They waited. 

And then they went inside.

The moment he walked through the door, his senses seemed to start up again, objects and people becoming sharper until recognition settled in.

The room did not look like the courtrooms from movies and tv shows he’d watched. No wood. No jury stands. Of course. This wasn’t a criminal court and they rarely showed the other sort in the media. It resembled other utilitarian rooms and Alex took comfort from the sparse, efficient, slightly run down appearance. Some different furniture and this could have been a classroom. A cafeteria. A hospital waiting room.

It was mundane.

Strange, how something so important could happen in a room like this.

Someone ushered them to their places. Uncomfortable, utilitarian chairs. Luke and Willie snatched up the seats on either side of him, Reggie and Bobby behind them. Emily and Mitch sat next to Luke. Emily kept fussing with her blouse and hair, Mitch cleaned his glasses and then kept fiddling with the hem of his sensible blue sweater.

They all kept glancing round to see if his parents would make an appearance.

But there was no sight of the people who had born and fed and educated him anywhere. The people who had loved him for the first seventeen years of his life and would no longer love him for the rest of it.

For something as stupidly insignificant as just not being straight. They had made it his fault, his sin, his choice but it wasn’t a choice and it wasn’t a sin and with his thigh pressed to Willie’s, he knew it wasn’t a mistake.

The judge was a woman somewhere in her fifties, although the wrinkled face made her look older. Maybe she smoked a lot. She seemed stern but not unkind. He hadn’t spotted Mr Sao anywhere.

Every muscle in Alex’s body was wound so tight that he expected something to break every moment. As if all the places he’d been broken before would come undone again.

He inhaled sharply and his hand sneaked over to Luke’s thigh, palm up, all on its own. It was only after Luke had grasped his hand, warmth suffusing his skin, that he remembered that he now also had a boyfriend and that he could ask for comfort from him, too.

It still felt a little strange—his heart beating somewhere high near his lungs—to take his left hand out of the hoodie pouch as well and to extend it for Willie to hold it.

Except Willie didn’t lose a second before grasping Alex’s hand with both of his and keeping it securely in his lap.

And with every deliberate breath, he started to unwind a little, to feel warm again.

Soon, there were warm hands on either of his shoulders, squeezing.

“Okay.”

It was half breath, half croak, and so much easier than ‘thank you.’ There would be time for that afterwards. For now, he accepted all of his friends’ strength he could borrow to get through the next hour or so.

*

It didn’t take an hour. It took approximately seventeen minutes.

Judge Pearson hadn’t needed much more than the apparently thorough report from Mr Sao and the glaring absence of Alex’s parents (plus the obvious show of support Alex had with his chosen new family) to come to the quick and calm decision that Emily and Mitch Patterson would act as his legal guardians until he came of age.

There was a businesslike solemnity to the whole proceeding that felt inadequate to what was actually happening but Alex was glad of it.

Just as he was glad that the judge spared him the response of his parents to Mr Sao’s endeavors to talk to them. There was a small, masochistic part that wanted to know but as Judge Pearson said, it would have served no purpose. His parent’s decision was quite clear by their absence alone.

And just like that, he was no longer his parent’s son.

Well, technically, he still was and if they had wanted, they could have fought to get him back. They also had to pay child support since they were financially able to do so. But since there was no law that could stop them from disinheriting him, that was probably the last support he was ever going to get from them. Financially or otherwise.

Legally, he was still Alex Mercer but for all other intents and purposes, he now belonged to the Pattersons with the full consent of the law.

Once they’d left the courtroom, Luke slapped him on the shoulder and both Bobby and Reggie cheered. Willie gave him a brief hug that was much too short but soon, Emily was hugging him, too, and kissing his cheek, while Mitch clapped his shoulder and smiled encouragingly at him.

Alex, however, just felt numb.

The others were celebrating a victory but he felt like he’d played for the losing team for seventeen years.

“Sorry, I—”

He turned abruptly on the spot and followed the signs towards the nearest bathroom with quick strides. Immediately, his heart was drowned in a mixture of relief at getting away from the others for a bit and guilt for being relieved in the first place. Not to mention the vast undercurrent of mixed feelings about what had just happened and what it all meant.

He almost wished the bathroom was further away because the walking had helped at least a little but he arrived soon after he had started. Thankfully, the bathroom was quite empty. Just clean white tiles and the scent of citrus cleaner filling the room.

Except, maybe two minutes later, the door opened again and Willie entered.

Alex had been staring at his face in the mirror, still dripping from the cold water he’d splashed into it but now he turned, apprehensive in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Hey,” Willie said quietly and then continued to chew on his lower lip.

Alex had rarely seen him so serious.

“Hey.” He rubbed the sleeve of his hoodie over his face to dry off the water.

“Are you okay?”

Alex swallowed and shrugged. “Yeah …” It didn’t sound all too convincing even to himself.

Some emotion flickered over Willie’s face, pity perhaps, but then he’d suddenly crossed the room and was right in front of Alex and Alex’s breath hitched but Willie just slung his arms around his neck and pulled him close and with a shuddering inhale of breath, Alex let himself be held.

Gradually, he relaxed into Willie’s embrace and finally returned it, clinging to Willie as he buried his face in his boyfriend’s neck.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” Willie whispered after a while.

“But everyone’s so happy,” Alex protested, mumbling the words into Willie’s collar.

“Pancake,” Willie said after a moment, “they’re the ones who won something.”

Alex didn’t reply immediately. He let the words sink in and finally accepted that there was no obligation to feel the same as the others because while he had won something precious, he’d also lost something so monumentally part of who he’d been that it would need more time than a handful of months to fill the gaping holes left in his soul. All the places that had once held his parents’ love, his trust in them, the idea of family and what that entailed, had to be refilled with other things. He knew he was on a good path for that but while his body had healed slowly and painfully, his soul would heal even slower. And there would be much more pain.

He knew he’d carry those scars for the rest of his life.

*

He wasn’t sure how long they stood in the bathroom, Willie holding him, Alex holding onto him. Eventually, the door opened and an older man in a suit walked in, clearing his throat in clear embarrassment. 

With an awkward chuckle, Alex let go of Willie. He would have liked to stay longer but public bathrooms probably weren’t the best place to hang out and he did feel considerably lighter than just ten minutes ago.

Letting the guy pee in peace, he and Willie left the bathroom but soon, Willie caught his hand and entwined their fingers.

“Thank you,” Alex croaked out, swinging their hands lightly.

“Of course.”

“I hope the others aren’t too mad.”

Willie bumped into him, a reassuring grin on his face. “Nah.”

And Willie was right. When they finally found their way back to the others, only taking one wrong turn along the way, there was relief on everyone’s faces and smiles but no anger or impatience.

“You okay, dude?” Reggie asked.

And this time, it wasn’t a lie when Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

“I think we could all use a good lunch now,” Mitch said and smiled. “Anyone in favour?”

It was a little early for lunch but they were all in favour.

Later, when they’d all piled into a burger joint and were discussing lunch choices, Emily took him aside.

“It’s okay not to be happy about all of this and I hope you know you don’t have to pretend otherwise just for my and Mitch’s sake.”

Alex’s eyes prickled but he swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He shook the hair out of his face and took a deep breath before he added: “Thank you. For–for everything. I really am grateful.”

Emily patted his shoulder and smiled. “Of course you are. Doesn’t mean you can’t still wish things had never gotten here. It’s only natural, hunny.”

He nodded again. “Yeah. But there’s a lot of good here.” He glanced over to his friends and Willie discussing the merits of curly fries vs. normal fries.

“Glad to hear it. Now, I think we should get some food into this rowdy bunch.”

“Probably a good idea.” He hesitated and then blurted out: “Can I get a strawberry milkshake?”

Emily laughed in surprise and then smiled brightly. “Yes. Yes of course you can, sweetie.”

And so Alex celebrated. Not that he had lost his parents. But that he had found a new family. One that didn’t frown at strawberry milkshakes, thinking any milkshake, especially a pink one, too childish for someone his age.