never-ending ideas for fanfictions, Number 2349384983948:
Ravagers – especially Yondu of course, how could it be different – taking care
of a sick Peter shortly after Yondu had been banned from the Ravager clans.
Peter is too far gone to really understand whats going on, especially since
nobody is telling him a thing, but he still realizes that Yondu is behaving
differently and tries to apologize and comfort him even through his fever and
memories of his Mum.
there ain’t ever gonna be enough space dork family fluff with Yondu the reluctant
but slightly-more-than-okay daddy.)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HELEN! Thank you so much for making me so many pretty thiiiiiiiiiiiiings. I love them and you are such sweetheart. Hopefully you like this birthday present!
So since I’ve been rereading the Guild Hunters series lately could you
maybe do something canon but where Caroline is a mythical creature like a
angel, succubus, or banshee or something like that? Like maybe it runs
in her family and that’s how her dad could resist compulsion? idk if
that even remotely helps you lol and smut is optional but highly
encouraged ;) and of course whatever your muse leads you to write will
be excellent, so even if you don’t use this I will be so happy with what
you come up with! :D
You knew that you must float
From the sun above the clouds
To the gloom beneath, from a world
Of rarefied splendour to one Of cheapened dirt, close-knit
In its effort to encompass man
Her dad liked to tell stories. As a child, she’d dreamed of fallen angels and their cursed wings, of the soaring into the sky. She chased clouds through endless pastures and ran as fast as she could before leaping those few, precious feet into the sky.
Those few seconds airborne were glorious. The trembling in her bones when her feet slammed back to earth, the rattling under her skin was worth ever weightless second. Skinned knees and bruised palms meant nothing.
Then, when she was seventeen, Caroline died.
New Orleans was a risk.
Caroline was the first to admit this was a stupid ass decision. Still, of all her options, scant and limited as they were, this was the best left to her. She took a deep breath, and glanced at her watch. Tried not to fidget.
She’d been in the city for thirteen hours.
Rumour said that Klaus was still in Europe.
The last time they’d spoken, he’d tried to coax to join him with promises of food and beautiful countryside. The wicked note as his voice deepened as he casually mentioned the sights, promised more than just visuals. Her skin prickled, at the thought.
Sometimes, Caroline couldn’t decide if sleeping with him was the best decision she could’ve made or the worst. She still dreamed of the feel of him against her. The way they’d moved, his blood on her tongue.
His tongue… everywhere.
She took a quick sip of her water, tried not to flush as she shifted for entirely different reasons. She’d found herself thinking about those woods far too often, lately. She’d brushed it off as being lonely, and horney, a terrible combination for a vampire.
Regardless, Klaus being temporarily out of the country had given her a brief window of opportunity and she’d taken it. If Caroline was exceptionally lucky, she’d get a curious, if testy phone call from the hybrid once she was back on the road. But she didn’t really believe in luck. The best she could hope for was that Klaus had learned of her sudden appearance in New Orleans after she’d set foot in the city.
Either way, her time was about up.
A flicker of lashes, as she glanced at the clock above the bar and she clenched her teeth in frustration. Her father’s associate wasn’t showing. She’d have noticed someone entering, as the dive was surprisingly empty on a Wednesday night. Not great for her need to blend in, but she’d be gone in an hour. She swore mentally, biting down on her lip and fighting her frustration.
This entire trip was turning out to be a bust. She needed to let Bonnie know where she was soon, needed to figure out her next move. Stephen had been of no use, had spoken in clipped tones when she’d called.
“I’m was sorry to hear about Liz, Caroline. But I sent anything related to your kind to her months ago. You can understand, why I don’t want you here looking around. Drawing attention.”
Maybe that was why she felt so off kilter lately. It wasn’t just the way Stefan looked at her, since they’d turned it back on. It wasn’t even the regret that sometimes threatened to choke her. Being an orphan hurt. Her bones ached with it sometimes, and now the friends she’d fought so hard for watched her with wary eyes.
Maybe she should cut her losses now, and just get out of dodge. Head home, decide what her next move was going to be. Talk to Bonnie about what she’d seen, how long the magic would hold. It was better than sitting in a dive bar, feeling sorry for herself.
Dropping a few ones as a tip, Caroline slipped off the barstool and headed for the door. Frustration left her grumpy, and she growled when the heavy wooden door opened, almost whacking her in the head. Narrowed eyes shifted to glare, and she froze at the man casually blocking her exit.
“Apologies, sweetheart. In a hurry?” Klaus questioned as he stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind him. His gaze scanned her once, as if searching for injury, something relaxing in his shoulders once he was done.
“You must be freaking kidding me,” Caroline groaned, arms crossing as she glared.
yes. YES! but then, niall decides to go on a spiritual journey across the southern hemisphere, leaving harry to tweet emo love songs from england. di, we are watching the married couple fic turn into an angsty au about distance and miscommunication before our eyes. i am, obviously, ready for the slow-mo shot of their cheesy airport reunion. good things come to those who wait, etc.
Harry’s waiting by baggage claim in DFW.
Niall stills, one hand clutching at his slipping shoulder bag and the other on his snapback. He just saw someone with a camera and this whole thing with scheduling and rescheduling and taking a transfer from Honolulu is bollocksed if someone gets a stray shot of him in front of the turnstile because he’s being careless.
Course, Harry is here, so maybe the entire world already knows where they are.
Maybe they only have a few seconds before the hoards descend.
“What the fuck,” he says, by way of greeting.
“You’re sunburned,” Harry says.
Harry is wearing a Dodger’s snapback and a worn-in leather jacket and actual, honest-to-god calf-high boots. His dress shirt sits against his skin like it was tailored. Niall catches a glimpse of a watch around his wrist. It’s like some fucked up mirage of What-Would-Harold-Styles-Never-Wear.
Niall ignores it all, because it’s really indecent on so many levels, the first of which being it looks really, really good.
“What the fuck,” Niall says again, drops his voice to a whisper-shout, “Harry.”
At Niall’s side, Basil makes a face and walks a bit of a ways off.
Coward, Niall thinks at him.
Harry’s jawline flexes. “You didn’t call me back.”