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BROCEDES! ROOMMATE AU + UNEXPECTED VIRGIN!
‘Take a shot if your body count is more than 5!’
Most of the crowd drinks, even those with obviously shifty eyes and guilty demeanours. Lewis drinks.
He was coursemates with Adrian the previous semester and had to hear his bitching and moaning about the bitches he gets – the lack thereof, spots him drinking too. Nico’s standing at the end of the couch, expensive loafers careful to step around the sticky spilled beer.
He nurses his red solo cup, untouched. Lewis frowns.
‘Take a shot if your body count is double digits!’
Fewer people drink this time. The crowd goes ‘ooh’ at the ones who do. Technically, Lewis’ is 7 – 8 if you count the blowjob and her getting her period at the last second, opting out. But college athletes have a reputation to maintain, so Lewis finishes off his cup.
This time, Nico is watching him. Smiles when their eyes meet and does a mock salute, lips still not grazing his drink.
What the fuck? What could it be? It bothers Lewis that Nico’s not being honest. He's seen Nico half-lidded hanging off some guy’s arm at a party or cuddled into some girl to know better. Although, since Nico has access to all the population instead of 50%, it would make sense if his count is twice as high.
A pretty girl in a low cut top and blonde highlights taps Lewis on the arm to dance with her, and all thoughts of his roommate and how many people he fucks are forgotten.
A few hours later, the party has died down. Cold pizza and the music is less in-your-face, more indie. A small group gather on the floor playing the laziest truth or dare with a half empty bottle of Bacardi. The guy beside Nico is in an obnoxious leather jacket and tight pants, and his hand rests on Nico’s thigh.
It falls on Lewis.
“So… Lew-iss,” Natalie? maybe asks, voice slurring a little. “Do you remember when you first met Nico?”
Nico raises an interested eyebrow. Of course he remembers. However, Lewis is aware they asked the question because people think him and Nico are secretly hooking up because they live together, and since Nico’s seen with everyone. His teammate Felipe and his girlfriend are within earshot.
“Nah, man. I don't remember shit like that. I remember when I like, lost my virginity.” Lewis offers as bait.
Nico frowns, it's cute on him. Brows wrinkled up.
Naomi(!) bites. “Tell us about how you lost your virginity.”
“That's two questions.” Lewis leans back, flashing his most charming gap-toothed smile. Everyone's too drunk to keep track of whose turn it is.
Nico disappears off with Mr. Skinny Jeans.
It's a little while later when Lewis has smoked a spliff to clear his head, rejecting the blonde highlights girl’s offer back to her dorms which is on the other side of campus, when Nico returns, hair mussed and shirt buttoned more than it was when he left.
“Home?” He asks. Lewis follows.
Nico’s a pretty chill roommate. He grew up with a silver spoon and an only child, so he has no concept of sharing. Instead, when he orders Thai, he makes sure to order for two so that Lewis doesn't try to eat any of his dumplings. Lewis gets to have the flat to himself a lot since Nico disappears for the night, returns at early hours of the night with glitter on his cheek or bite marks on his neck and a cheeky smile before collapsing on the couch. Lewis can't complain, it makes bringing girls over easier. And when Nico is studying, he keeps to himself. Lewis will know, because there will be an extra coffee for him. In turn, Lewis gets rids of the bugs in the flat – the first time Nico seeing a cockroach asking if they should call pest control or sue their landlord for unhygienic living conditions.
“Why didn't you drink? At the body count question?” Lewis asks, breaking the amiable silence of their walk home, and the lack of filter signalling he was drunker than he thought.
Nico hums thoughtfully. “Cause that would be a lie?”
Lewis tries to make sense of that, doing math in his head. “No…? It wasn't about the exact number, just if it's more than.”
“Yeah,” Nico smiles, unlocking the door and stepping side. “That would be a lie.”
Lewis rolls his eyes. Nico and his riddles and his games. “It would only be a lie if you're a virgin. Which you're not.” He snorts at the thought.
Nico’s eyes flash dangerously. “Yeah?” Nico turns around, effectively trapping Lewis between the door. “You think about who gets in my pants a lot, Hamilton?”
Lewis feels a flush rise in his neck. Thank god for melanin, if he were Nico he'd have two giant red spots on his cheek right now.
“I don't care who you sleep with. Or don't sleep with.” Lewis tries to go for gruff, chill, but it doesn't quite land. He gets out of Nico’s cornering, going to the couch. “It's just weird you’d lie considering Jenson–”
“Oh if Jenson said it, it must be true.” Nico’s sarcasm is shrill and annoyed, betraying how drunk he is.
It does make Lewis pause. Jenson has a habit of embellishing stories of his conquests. The fated twins threesome never happened, he had separately hooked up with twins. Lewis remembers Jenson bragging in the locker room how he rocked Britney’s world and Lewis had worn his his shin guards with a little more force than necessary.
“Rock my world?” Nico rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall. “Hardly. We made out for forty minutes until he came in his pants.”
TMI because now Lewis is inundated of images of Nico, mouth swollen and bodies entangled while fully clothed.
“So you're actually a virgin? What about all those people?” Lewis is still trying to wrap his head around it. Nico is the most sexual person he knows. He eats yoghurt off the spoon distractingly, and has no shame walking around the apartment naked. Very sexual liberation chic, and Lewis had to draw up boxers boundaries.
Nico wrinkles his nose. “So you get with the easiest lay on campus and you're the only person he won't fuck. Do you want to admit something's weird and wrong with you, or do you just go about inferring you had sex? It's not like I'm going to correct them.” He must see something on Lewis’ face because he interjects, defensively offensive, “Don't ask why it's better to have a reputation. I know your tells. You drank twice.”
Lewis chooses his words carefully, gentle like he's not trying to spook a wild cat. “I'm not judging. I'm just surprised. Nobody figured it out?”
Nico softens at the tone. He sinks on the couch beside Lewis. “Honestly, you're the first person to notice.”
Lewis finds that sad. “Hey, we don't need to talk about this if it's a sensitive topic. I'm sorry I –”
“Jeez, Lewis. I don't have trauma, I'm just frigid. A pricktease. Nothing bad ever happens to a Rosberg.” Nico works on the complicated laces of his boots. He hates being pitied.
Lewis leans over. “It's really not all that cracked up to be. The first time, at least. Cause you're bad at it and you don't know how to pace yourself. Lots of people wait until they're ready. My first time, it was this girl I was seeing after GCSEs. We couldn't find a place so we got in my dad’s old Subaru. Lasted like 30 seconds. Wiped the whole place down but I was convinced he would know somehow. Come Sunday, I went and told him. He hadn’t the slightest clue. So that was an awkward drive to church.”
Nico gawks him, crumpling into himself laughing. Lewis regrets being a vulnerable and oversharer of a drunk. Nico’s gelled hair has come undone from hours of partying and falls over his eyes. Lewis is never going to open up to anyone ever again.
“On God's day, Lewis?! And you think I should save myself until marriage? Find myself a nice, righteous wife?”
“Someone you trust. Someone you're into.” The room spins a little. Nico Rosberg is a virgin.
“Someone who’d remember when we first met?” Nico challenges. "That's not very nice, is it? I can't believe you forgot--"
“You were checking out an encyclopaedia on space at the library. I wanted the Senna autobiography. We were 12.”
Nico’s eyes go wide. Lewis holds his gaze.
#I love roommate aus :3 what if the object of ur desire was 1 room away and yet the distance is greater than oceans#I hope you catch all the little references. and please!!!! if you enjoy it let me know I'll lore dump#brocedes#f1 rpf#my fics#I love friendship tinged with desire. this could've gone into sex right after virgin reveal but I wanted them to be friends talking first#roommates au
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The only thing worse than having to get braces put on as an adult is presenting as an omega on the exact same day— both far later than is typical.
It results in utter chaos.
At least, that’s how Steve felt about the whole ordeal.
Robin had been kind enough to stick around for his long appointment so she could make sure he had everything he needed afterwards.
Ice pack, pain killers, mouthwash. All the essentials.
They were prepared.
Just… not for a sudden presentation heat to start on the way home.
“Oh god. Oh god, Steve, okay listen— don’t panic. I know you’re in pain, but you need to hold tight so I can go get stuff to help you. Shit!”
Steve’s entire face feels worse than after Hargrove got through with it. Like ground beef.
His gums throb and his jaw aches terribly.
And now Robin’s leaving. Why is she leaving?
“Robsh?” Steve slurs out in a yell. The action makes the bands pull tighter.
“Be right back!”
She’s out the door and he’s left on the couch by himself. In pain. Awful, agonizing, burning pain.
Steve squirms around, trying to get comfortable.
Everything is hot. Too hot. It’s more than just his face— it’s his whole body. His muscles are twitchy, like they need to be stretched.
He’s laying in something wet. Blood? Could be. Maybe his mouth is bleeding. Seems reasonable at the moment.
“Owwww,” he whines to himself. “Fuck.”
The orthodontist said it would be mildly agitating pain and discomfort afterwards, not whole body sweats or cramps.
His head spins.
Where did Robin go again? She left so quickly, it’s hard to recall her reasons for leaving in such a rush.
Is he gonna die from braces? Can that even happen? Would he be the first?
“Hey, Stevie. As promised, I’ve got a strawberry banana smoothie with your name on it. Did Robin go home? Her car isn’t in the drivew—”
Huh?
“—and what in the hell is happening here?”
Steve rolls over to confirm that it’s not a burglar in his living room, but it’s just Eddie.
Oh. No? Hold on a moment.
Eddie has never smelled like that before.
He’s always had a faint smoke and leather sorta scent that even Steve’s unrefined beta nose could pick up on, but it’s much stronger than that now.
It’s deeper, more powerful and overwhelming.
It’s mouthwatering. Thigh clenching, even.
He whines in want.
“Alpha?” slips out before Steve can overthink it.
Eddie freezes and his eyes widen for a second. Then they narrow in a calculating way, like they’re trying to figure him out.
He sets the smoothie down and kneels next to the couch, one hand reaching out to cup Steve’s cheek lightly.
Steve winces at the touch, but his fingers are cold and they actually feel good on his sore face, so he relaxes into it.
“Hi there, pretty boy. Pink bands, huh? Cute. But it seems braces aren’t the only new thing today. You doing okay?” Eddie asks gently, soothingly.
He sounds more alpha than Steve’s ever heard him speak. The tone is comforting and reassuring.
Steve still isn’t entirely sure what they’re talking about though. He knows he had braces put on and then Robin left him alone. There’s some gaps in there somewhere and he feels like death.
His head is spinning too fast.
“I don’t know where Robin went,” he confesses in a whisper.
Eddie nods slowly, his expression understanding and kind. It makes Steve feel safe, unjudged for losing his best friend.
“I’m guessing she went to get some supplies for you, sweetheart. I’ve heard that the first one isn’t usually too bad, but Robin worries about you, ya know?”
He smells so good. How is Steve supposed to pay attention when Eddie smells that good?
Confused, he asks, “She was worried about my braces?” Too many words. It pulls at the bands in his mouth and he winces.
Eddie’s thumb brushes along his cheek sympathetically.
“No, baby… not quite. You’re in heat, Stevie.”
Heat?
No, that’s for omegas. Steve would know if he was an omega. He’d have heats. His body would be too hot and he’d produce slick and be attracted to alphas.
Ah.
“I’m an omega?” It’s as much a question to the universe as a shocked statement.
Eddie purses his lips. Conflict.
“You’re presenting a little later than usual, but evidently so. I’m guessing your lack of a pack before didn’t help anything, but you have us now. We’re gonna take care of you, honey… I’ll keep you safe, omega,” he promises solemnly.
The wetness between Steve’s legs becomes far more apparent.
It’s not that Steve never looked at Eddie before and thought he was attractive or that he’d make the perfect alpha to some lucky omega.
Steve just didn’t think he was that omega.
Or an omega at all, for that matter.
Eddie deserved more than some fucked up beta. He’s brave and kind, a good man.
He can visibly see when the scent of his fresh slick hits the alpha’s nose. The way Eddie’s nostrils flare and his breathing catches in his throat, like he’s trying not to inhale too deeply.
“Eddie?”
His eyes instantly dart to Steve’s mouth. He looks hungry. Starving, even.
For once in his life, Steve’s confident he won’t be rejected.
It’s in Eddie’s warm scent, in the way he’s always glanced at him a little too long, and never breaks his promises to him. Steve can see it clearly now.
This has been a long time coming.
“Anything.”
“Kiss me, alpha?”
Eddie doesn’t question whether he’s sure. He doesn’t tell Steve that this is a conversation for later or even hesitate.
He just holds Steve’s face like something fragile and precious when he kisses his lips far too carefully. Soft. Gentle.
They’re chapped from his appointment. Neither seem to care.
It’s a slow, lingering kiss. It ends much the same way.
The rush of pleasure and pure joy floods his entire body, making the pain in his jaw negligible when he lets out his first omegan chirp of happiness.
He still aches and yearns, but the ache is focused now. His inner omega just wants Eddie— his alpha.
“Please, Ed,” Steve whimpers, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck and getting his scent right from the source.
The alpha scratches down his back slowly, trying to calm him.
It’s an act full of love and kindness, Eddie’s attempt to not take advantage of him in his current state.
In any other situation, it would be noble. Steve would be flattered by the self control it cost an alpha to not ravage in omega in heat who’s begging for attention.
But he needs this. He’s also technically only in late pre-heat. That’s as far as presentation heats usually get.
Fever and need are there, but not the complete lack of awareness that accompanies full heats. He can make decisions.
“How can I help you, sweetheart?”
Steve can tell the effects of heat are taking ahold of his inhibitions though.
There’s no other reasonable explanation for the way he blurts out, “Cum all over my braces?”
#part two with actual smut to come soon!!!#steddie#steddie omegaverse#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#steddie ficlet#omegaverse#a/b/o#braces#my fics
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This Old Love Has Me Bound 2/2
Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, minor Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard
Rating: Teen and up
Chapter Word Count: 6038
Overall Word Count: 9554
Chapter Summary:
“You have a good day with Tommy yesterday?” Eddie asks as they weave their way through the fruit and vegetable aisle. He’s not looking at Buck as he asks the question which might mean something. Or he’s just more concerned with deciding which oranges are the ripest.
“Yeah, it was nice,” Buck says as he grabs a pack of apples for himself. “Did you, um, did you do anything in the end?”
He still feels a little guilty for blowing Eddie off yesterday.
Eddie doesn’t answer right away, silent long enough that it has Buck looking up at him. He’s staring at the grapes display in concentration as if he and Chris could ever be convinced to eat green grapes.
“I saw Marisol,” he says finally, selecting the same brand of red grapes he always gets and setting it in the cart. “We sort of…broke up?”
“You what?” Buck asks, whipping around so fast he almost sends Eddie’s cart wheeling into the strawberry display. He catches it just in time.
Read here on ao3
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Pairing: Feysand
Rating: E
Tags: Smut, Angst, Necromancy & Resurrection, Ghosts & Haunting, Morally Gray Rhysand, Silver Fox Rhysand, Dark Magic, Halloween, Breeding Kink, Beast!Rhys, Biting
Summary: Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”
Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”
Her spine stiffened. Prick!
(Or, what would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?)
Read Chapter 3 on AO3 now! Snippet below the cut.
A beast of scales and spikes and fangs loomed large and black over Feyre.
Ice crackled through her veins and tensed the limbs that had just been rendered deliciously lax. Frigid terror warred with the desire that had turned her molten beneath her mate’s tongue, and base human instinct froze her body into place—the same that had once brought her eye-to-eye with a faerie wolf.
Fight or flight.
And, Cauldron fry her, she had never been one to choose flight.
“Rhys?”
“Yes, love?” the monster above her drawled—and Feyre saw what she didn’t before.
The familiar upward sweep of the beast’s cheekbones. The slant of the dark, slitted-pupil eyes. The elegant, regal line of his strange maw.
Each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out, Rhys had told her the day she spent cleaning lentils out of his hearth Under the Mountain, offering a glimpse of talons and shadowed wings while she brandished an iron poker at him. While your Tamlin prefers fur, I find wings and talons to be more entertaining.
Entertaining. Fucking hell, there was nothing entertaining about this horror in the slightest.
If she had any breath left in her lungs, she might have laughed hysterically and uncontrollably at herself. At the memory of the mortal girl who thought that a wolf, a Wyrm, and a half-transformed High Lord with only the dregs of his power were frightening. Those little spectacles had been nothing. Less than nothing.
Because now, above her? Rhys was terror given form, the primal fear at the heart of every nightmare in the flesh. He was a predator, built for rending limbs from bodies and tearing hearts from chests.
He was Winged Death.
Feyre swallowed, looking closer.
The golden brown skin she had waited centuries to touch was gone. All that remained now was a broad, massive body covered in layer after layer of rippling ebony scales. Ridged and almost featherlike, they blanketed him in impenetrable armor that stretched as far as Feyre could see. And where the scales ended, the massive, membranous wings of a demon began, jutting upward from his back—austere, violent appendages tipped in claws that glinted like daggers in the low light. The sharp, dark edges of them, of all of him, faded into the swarm of shadows that surrounded their alcove.
His shadows. The lethal camouflage of a male who bent the night to his will.
His hands curled around her waist, and she felt the razor-keen talons he had once leveled at Amarantha prick her sides. When she dared to glance downward, her eyes skimming his trim waist, she found that his even feet were transformed, replaced entirely by grotesque, clawed appendages she had no name for.
But that was of little importance once the rough, strange underside of his cock slid through her oversensitive, slick folds again. Made her suck in a sharp breath as the bond twinged and he lifted himself off of her so she could see that too.
Gods, he—
Her mouth went dry at her first glimpse of his considerable length, hanging heavy and hard over her stomach. It was the same midnight shade as the rest of him, her own wetness glistening like stars in the night along its length. But the coloring, the size, weren’t what snared her mind.
It was the ridges.
Her heartbeat accelerated to an uneven, excited patter in spite of herself.
#feysand#feyre archeron#rhysand#feyre#rhys#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#my fics#poltergeist darling#a court of thorns and roses fic
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LET'S TALK ABOUT THE PRINCE
A LITTLE PREVIEW AND TAG LIST UPDATE.
💜 Hello beloveds, how are you? It's been a very long time since you've heard from our crop-top wearing himbo vampire, but I am happy to say you won't be waiting much longer.
💜 If you would like to join the new tag list for part five please leave a comment below.
💜 Catch up with The Prince on ao3 or on tumblr - One // Two // Three // Four (18+, MDNI)
💜Or if you wanna start from the beginning check out The Count (vampire!Copia) and The King (vampire!Secondo) (18+, MDNI)
💜 Thank you all so SO much for all your support and encouragement over the last year. I love you all ✨🦇
Below is a little taste of The Prince - Part Five. Beware of spoilers!
“Did you sleep well, piccolina?”
Primo’s deep voice carried from the far side of the kitchen barely audible over the rumble of thunder outside. It was somewhere between morning and afternoon, though the storm made it difficult to tell one from the other. Heavy rain pelted the outside of the cottage in a steady thrum in time with the howling winds. You used to find this type of scene so comforting but watching water bead and trail down the windows just seemed to make you anxious now. Sitting across the room and trying to make small talk with Primo Emeritus didn’t seem to help either. As kind and inviting as he was, he was still a complete stranger. An immortal stranger with superhuman strength you were supposed to stay far away from. Instead, he’d insisted on baking cookies for you.
Shaking your head, you jolted a little as the kettle began to scream from its spot of the stovetop. Sleep had been the furthest thing from your mind after Terzo’s spell. A full night’s rest would have been a dream, but there was no getting comfortable in this situation. How long could you be safe here in the middle of nowhere? How long would they wait this time?
“Primo, can I ask you something?” You wondered aloud, hoping the impending conversation would drown out the sound of the storm and your own thoughts.
He inclined his head, silently urging you to continue. A loose piece of his long, white-blond hair fell over the painted lines of his face as he moved; the rest was carefully tied back with a thin black ribbon. His focus remained on the pale green kettle in his hand as he transferred water into a dainty teapot at the edge of the counter. He moved with such precision, yet still maintained some impossibly delicate grace—the opposite of the way Terzo carried himself. There were other differences—far more than you could count—but where Terzo’s softness was an edge blunted by time, Primo’s seemed to be gently blurred into everything he did.
A flash of lightning filled the kitchen with bright light, the bank of windows on the eastern wall providing the perfect vantage point. You shuddered as thunder followed, too close and too loud for your own comfort. The storm blew a gentle breeze through the cracked windows and the ceiling fan above dragged it further in as it spun in lazy, lopsided circles. The kitchen smelled of florals and tea and rain, feeling like a Sunday afternoon you shouldn’t have access to. Everything was a little too dreamy, made fuzzy by a filter tinged with warm yellow-green like a flashback to someone else’s nostalgic past.
Someone else’s life.
“Why settle in this place?” you asked, vividly recalling the cracked asphalt and sun-bleached everything you’d passed on your way through town. “Why…here? The secluded cottage makes sense, but why live at the edge of some abandoned nowhere town?”
He turned to look at you for a beat before reaching for two teacups. “Well,” he started as he dropped a teabag into the pot. “It wasn’t always abandoned, piccolina.”
He set a cup in front of you before joining you at the table, a sigh leaving his lips as the wooden chair creaked beneath him. “This town…it used to full of a unique vibrance that drew me in. I suppose on some level I grew comfortable here, much like the other remaining residents. But mostly I stayed for the work. That’s what I told myself anyway. I have no doubt that Terzo would have you believe otherwise, but immortality can be incredibly mundane. When I found myself in this little town, I watched it grow from nothing just like I had done with a thousand other little towns in my lifetime. But this one—it was easier to fight that feeling of boredom here, to find a purpose. I chose to put my energy toward something, to have a common goal with the people here while I could. There’s a darling botanical garden on the edge of town, built something like seventy years ago, give or take. I helped fund the project.”
“Really? So, it had nothing to do with the cute girl that delivers your groceries?”
Black and white paint may have covered his entire face, but you could see Primo’s ears turn bright red. “That—she—hmph. She wasn’t even born yet. Neither were you for that matter.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not the reason you stay.”
“The garden—“
“Sure, sure,” you teased. “Work, work, work.”
“Don’t start picking up bad habits from your beau, piccolina,” he warned. “Youth is wasted on the young indeed.”
“Not if you have an eternity to do something about it.”
He laughed quietly as he poured the most delicious smelling pink tea into each cup. “I forgot how much I enjoy such a human point of view. What of you and your eternal boytoy, hmm? What will you do when this is all over?”
You shrugged, pausing to consider his words. “Haven’t really thought that far. I think…I think I’d like to do all the things I never could before. No matter what happens I can’t go back to my old life—I wouldn’t want to go back, knowing what I know now. If I have to build a new life, it might as well be a better one than before. And if that sounds good to Terzo, then I’m happy to try building it together.”
“Hmm,” he replied with a thoughtful nod and faint smile playing on his lips.
“Belleza, I am happy to build you anything you want. But boytoy? Is that really what you’ve settled on, fratello?” Terzo grumbled as he appeared in the doorway, half-asleep with pillow marks on his face. He dropped into the seat next to you with a heavy sigh and rested his head on your shoulder. “Is that really all I am to you?”
“No. Sometimes you’re more of manbaby,” you replied and kissed the top of his head. “It’s ok though.”
“Ugh, I am so glad you two are getting along,” he teased sarcastically. “You are a bad influence on her, Primo.”
“Me? What did I do?” Primo mused as he took a sip of tea.
“You encourage her—”
“Ah.”
“—to be mean to me,” he whined. “What happened to that wide-eyed naïve girl from before, hmm?”
“I have no idea who you are talking about,” you responded flatly.
“Ah, yes. What happened to the fierce and terrifying woman who pretended not to be watching me sleep every night?”
“She met an unbelievably arrogant vampire.”
He sat up and shot you a big, toothy grin. “Oh, bellezza, was I your first?”
Primo groaned loudly and pushed away from the table. “Whatever you’re trying to do fratellino, do not do it in my kitchen.”
“Ah, calm down old man. I’m only teasing.”
“You were the one I liked enough to save. Even with your baking skills.”
Primo nearly spat out his tea. “Oh, Terzo, tell me you didn’t.” “I was trying to do something nice for you, bellezza. But fine, fine. Let’s all pick on Terzo!” he grumbled as he stood. For a split-second the life left his eyes, the light within him dimming like a flickering lightbulb in a haunted basement. He was completely blank—jaw slack and body limp. Primo crossed the room before you could even think to react, rushing over to keep his brother’s body from collapsing to the floor.
more stuff by me // my ko-fi tip jar
#my writing#my fics#suck club forever#mdni#papa emeritus iii x female reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#terzo x reader#the band ghost fanfiction#ghost band fanfiction#ghost band fanfic#vampire terzo#vampire terzo x reader#terzo fanfic#terzo fanfiction#vampire terzo fanfic#papa emeritus iii fanfiction
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happy 3l anniversary, take a full excerpt of my 3l scarian oneshot <3 -
Being red heightened Scar's senses in a way he never would've thought possible. If he focuses hard enough, he can almost feel the beating of Grian's heart, he can almost see the vein of his pulse protruding from his neck. It was beautiful and tempting and horrifying. Scar finally manages to pull his eyes away from Grian when he gets the sudden urge to rip it out with his teeth.
He doesn't know what to make of these thoughts, doesn't know which of them are really his and which of them are the ghosts of his past lives possessing him. No one else is red yet. Just Scar. How can he know for sure that this is the effect of dying twice? How does he know he's not just using the hostility as an excuse to let his subconscious run rampant?
His thoughts about Grian are typically more lust-filled than violent, but maybe there's something about being red that lowers his inhibitions and intensifies the thoughts. It's not awful, honestly. It's a bit horrifying, yes, but the horror is overcome by the knowledge of how good Grian looks in his sweater, and the thought of how he'd look even prettier covered head to toe in red.
Not now, Scar thinks. In due time.
Grian will be red eventually and Scar will be able to relish in it as much as he wants then, but for now, Scar is focused on keeping him by his side.
#ive been chipping away at the whole fic for months ngl but it's some of my favorite writing ive done recently#scarian#3rd life#life series#trafficshipping#desert duo#goodtimeswithscar#grian#gtws#traffic smp#my fics#castor.exe
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Hopper’s talking to her, telling her to breathe, but all Nancy can focus on is Robin, dead, in front of her.
She barely registers when Steve stumbles in. Hopper’s moving before she processes it, trying to gently escort him out.
Steve’s a mess. Wild-eyed, his face streaked with tears, hair unkept.
“I need to say goodbye,” Steve begs, fighting against Hopper’s steady arms. “I need—I need to tell her I love her and that I’m sorry and—and I need to find the fuckers that did this—”
Steve knows about her ‘gift’. He looks directly at her, a plea on his face.
Nancy thinks of Barb, still and silent in her arms.
“Let him stay,” she croaks.
“Wheeler—” Hopper starts. She shakes her head.
“Let him stay.”
Hopper relents. Steve scrambles over, faltering when he sees Robin.
Nancy understands. It’s not a pretty sight.
At open-casket funerals, the deceased undergoes hours of careful preparation to make them look presentable. To make sure they look as close to how they did in life as possible.
That is not the case here. Robin’s skin is a sickly white, freckles stark in contrast. Ugly purple marks cover her throat and neck. Strangulation, from the looks of it. Nancy doesn’t want to imagine it.
Steve strokes Robin’s hair, the gentlest Nancy has ever seen him. Fresh tears have started running down his cheeks.
“Steve,” she starts, equally gentle, because how can she tell him this? How can she describe the sensation of having your whole world stopped, started, and stopped again?
“I know,” he says, not taking his eyes off Robin. “I’m ready.”
She wants to say, You can never be ready.
Instead, she nods, and taps one finger to Robin’s cheek.
The effect is instant. Robin gasps, eyes flying open, one hand automatically going to her throat.
Steve lets out a sob, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve been there, I’m sorry—”
“Dingus,” Robin rasps, and she’s crying too. Nancy averts her eyes, a pang in her chest.
Hopper must decide to let them have their moment because nearly five minutes pass before he comes over. He asks Robin questions, the standard procedure, and Robin answers shakily, her hand held in Steve’s.
Robin didn’t fully see her attacker. It was a man, that much she knows. She’d managed to flee the initial attack but he’d caught up to her when she tried to lose him in the woods. She thinks he was less prepared because of it, but things are hazy. She remembers being pinned down, hands around her throat, and these cold, terrifying eyes. His face had been covered with only his eyes visible.
Hopper takes notes, frowning. Finally, the questioning comes to an end, Robin out of answers. His head slowly swivels to Nancy.
Steve’s still clutching Robin. They both look at her with a sad understanding on their faces.
“I’ll find him,” Steve says quietly, resting his forehead against the top of Robin’s head. “I’ll find whoever did this and I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.”
Robin just smiles sadly. She murmurs something too quiet for Nancy to hear, but she doesn’t miss the devastation that flits across Steve’s face.
They look at her expectantly, both clearly trying hard not to cry. They’re still holding hands.
Nancy can’t do it.
“Wheeler,” Hopper says, low, a warning.
“I can’t,” Nancy whispers. She knows what will happen if she lets Robin live. The same thing that happened when she couldn’t let Will die again, when she couldn’t let Eddie die again.
The universe rights its wrongs in its own way. If it can’t have its death, it will take another. When she’d brought Will back and kept him alive, a well-loved local, Benny Hammond, had died. When she’d let Eddie live, Jonathan and Will’s stepfather Bob had a heart attack out of nowhere. There’d been seemingly nothing to cause either death.
If she lets Robin live, someone else will die in her place.
The worst part is that Nancy finds she doesn’t care.
She can’t let Steve lose his best friend the way she lost hers. She can’t let this be the end of Robin’s life.
Kind, funny Robin, who has always been so full of life, so loved by everyone around her. Nancy’s never gotten the chance to really get to know her, but she’s always wished she had.
“I can’t,” she repeats, her voice steadier now. “I won’t. It’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.” Hopper’s voice is kind. She doesn’t deserve it.
“I won’t do it. Steve—”
Steve looks stunned, a hopeful expression dawning on his face. Hopper looks at him and sighs.
“I can’t force you. But… well, on your own head be it.” He shakes his head. “I’m going back to the station. You’re causing me a lot of paperwork.”
As he leaves, Steve turns to her. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you—”
“As far as you’re concerned, Robin survived the attack.” Nancy keeps her voice steady, avoiding eye contact with both of them. “Robin…”
Robin’s eyes are on her. Curious, focused, like they’re studying her. Nancy swallows hard.
“Robin, you should avoid going anywhere alone for a while. If your attacker thinks you could identify him he’ll try and finish the job. I won’t be able to do this twice.”
Robin gives a short nod. “I’ll lay low for a while.”
Her voice is soft, raspy. Steve, maybe afraid Nancy might suddenly change her mind, thanks her one last time before helping Robin up and ushering her out.
Nancy watches their retreating backs, a heavy weight in her chest.
In the nicest way possible, she hopes she never sees Robin again.
#st pushing daisies au#my fics#st ficlet#nancy wheeler#robin buckley#stranger things#steve harrington#jim hopper#ronance#stobin#platonic stobin#my writing#pushing daisies au
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every voice belongs to you
jegulus, explicit, monster/human, 6700 words
Regulus had never imagined himself developing feelings for a creature he could not see, but here he was. Harbouring what he could only describe as desperate longing for the being hiding in the shadows.
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couldn't resist posting the first chapter of my mishanks rock band au :]
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Binding My Own Fanfiction // art upgrade
Some of you might remember my fanfiction bind and the temporary dustjacket I made, but my commission finally came in!
This was also supposed to be my submission for @tamlinweek Day 7 - Free day!
Read the fic on AO3.
Thank you @snaxk for the amazing, amazing cover!
I couldn't be happier; it's everything I wanted and more 🥹🥹🥹
I also want to thank @lucychanart and @deemsum for letting me use their art as inserts!
Your art was just so perfect for some of the key chapters in the fic!
A couple of notes for those interested in the process:
The title is actually gold, but it's hard to capture the gorgeous sheen on photo -- his eyes and earrings also are gold
I was having major, major issues with my gold pen. You can see a bit of the splatter -- this was my 2nd attempt printing. I didn't want to waste ink, paper and paint as I am binding a second copy for my best friend -- she is my beta reader, my editor and my first fan. Thoughts & prayers that my materials will AGREE with me!
I can't afford fancy dustjacket paper right now, but I did want to seal the art/gold paint. The texture you see on the photo is actually from matte-drying glue. I actually enjoy the texture a lot!!
Already that I am a chaotic crafter, I also injured myself and got blood on my materials RIP so be careful out there ya'll
The paper I used for the inserts are vellum, they are not currently glued, but I will do it for my second version.
#my fics#my binds#fan binding#books#bookblr#book binding#book binding for beginners#writers of tumblr#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#tamlin#pro tamlin#rhysand#tamsand#tamlin x rhysand#fanart
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"you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me"
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“It’s weird, I feel like I can’t absorb compliments. I don’t know how to respond to them. I get so… surprised and awkward. Like, today Mr. Stark thought I was a genius for figuring out the bug in his suit so quickly. Tony Stark thought I was a genius. Like? Bananas.”
No one else is listening to this. Just Peter’s phone. And he isn’t sending any voicemail to anyone. He wouldn’t want Happy to listen to this, because then he would tell Tony.
“I just don’t get it. Why would Mr. Stark be proud of me? He thought my homemade suit was stupid. I still keep it, of course, but I look at it and I feel… I dunno. I-It’s not like I hate my current suit, I love it! I love that my… thing is still there, y’know. It’s Spider-Man! And I like that I can rely on Mr. Stark whenever I’m in trouble. It’s just… He’s the genius, not me. Why does he want me around? Why does he think I’m so… great? When I’m not? I’m barely holding it together and it’s like he has no idea. And I guess that’s a good thing? But what if I screw up again and he gets mad? What if he gives up on me again?”
Peter goes silent for a couple minutes, pondering his bedroom.
“I want him to be proud, but…” He sighs. “Maybe I don’t deserve it."
#smth that i also wrote that kind of got out of hand lmao#i'm the kind of person who records my own ramblings#so to me peter does the same thing#lotus speaks#irondad#fics#my fics#drabble
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but i'm scared of getting sick . . . solangelo , sick fic , solangelo , established relationship , fluff
🖇 https://archiveofourown.org/works/55377616
Summary:
“Kayla, tell Chiron to order one of each vaccine discovered after the 40s, will you?”
“One of each!?” He heard Kayla shout confused.
“I reckon we are gonna need them if we don’t want the whole camp to catch eradicated shit. We have a patient from the 30s, remember?”
It wasn’t as loud, so Nico couldn’t make the words up as well, but Kayla said something that sounded slightly like “oh, Gods” and had a bit of “how did we miss that?,” as well as some cussing into it.
“I’m fixing to leave to his cabin!” Will shouted in the direction of the door, having moved to put on some gloves and a mask. “He’s got measles.”
Or. . . When Nico gets sick and Will looks after him.
#my fics#solangelo#solangelo fics#solangelo fic#solangelo fanfiction#solangelo one shot#solangelo fluff#nico#nico di angelo#will#will solace#pjo#pjo hoo toa#pjo fanfic#pjo fanfiction#hoo#hoo fanfic#hoo fanfiction#toa#toa fanfiction#toa fanfic#pjo nico di angelo#pjo will solace
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Started a new WIP and in my own true fashion, started on the middle. I already have 2k and I havent even began to scratch the surface. I'm soooo excited to be back at torturing my main boy Tim.
#tim drake my whumpee beloved#hes going to be so traumatized by the time i finish this#batman#also are you all proud of me i started this today and ive only been thinking about it since this morning#it usually takes me weeks to actually start the writing process#batfam#tim drake#bruce wayne#jason todd#dust writes#my fics
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Finished: 3 Times Buck's Date With Tommy Went Awry – And The One Time It Didn't :)
I fell so deeply into the Buck/Tommy rabbit hole, it broke my writer's block. Buck and Tommy are on a date. But this is 911, so things go wrong. Like, a lot.
(Whump and Fluff)
#Buck/Tommy#911#911 abc#9-1-1#911 fanfic#911 fandom#Tommy/Buck#Evan Buckley#Tommy Kinard#my fics#writing#fanfiction#bucktommy#tevan
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Minor TOTSMOV41 Spoilers
This post references this post.
Spoiler #1: Someone, perhaps two someones, ought to land in hot water for this:
Kiko nearly dropped dead at the shock of Good’s shining spires terraforming, blackening, as if a sinister plague had spread from Evil, up its towers, across Dean Sophie’s breezeways and catwalks, creeping up the base of Good’s glass castle to its highest turrets, toxic, emerald green fog choking the atmosphere around the Schools, the Blue Forest drained of its signature hue, until… the rot receded, just as quickly as it had emerged.
“Praise the Storian!” she cried, relieved that her bare arms were absolutely featherless, thudding to the floor in a faint.
⸻
Spoiler #2: There will be an unorthodox murder weapon that harkens back to the prequels. (It is not a letter opener.)
#school for good and evil#rise of the school for good and evil#kiko of neverland#sge#sfgae#the school for good and evil#tsfgae#rotsge#rotsfgae#one true king#my post#my fics#my writing#snippets#the one true school master of vault 41#totsmov41
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Last Seen Blogs
sendalkuhilang-blog
Untitled
thecreaturecrossroads
The Creature Crossroads
nicethatdicebags-blog
Gifts for Gamers
lanagromovalanguages
English & German