whoops i was supposed to write


Grantaire painting, every stroke in time with the soft music filtering in from the radio. Sunlight is streaming in, casting bright stripes across the room. His hair is falling into his face, and he’s smiling gently. The image is unfinished— it has been for a while, but it’s something.

Grantaire playing guitar, each sound somewhat new to him. He’s only picked it up as a hobby recently. His green eyes peer determinedly down at the instrument in front of him. The chords are stubborn, strings unyielding. But he’ll get there.

Grantaire with his friends, face flushed from laughing too hard. They’re at Jehan’s flat, crammed into the tiny living room. It’s cosy— fairy lights are strung across the windows, and everything smells faintly of cinnamon. Courfeyrac is poking at his hair, trying to tie ribbons into the dark mess.

Grantaire writing, head leaning on his hand. He isn’t sure where he’s going with it, but it’s raining outside. The city has been overcast for days. Dark clouds hang in the sky, relentless. He doesn’t mind. It may be wet, but it’s calming. The pen dances across the page. The idle scratching merges with the faint tapping of raindrops against his window.

Grantaire at a protest. He can’t remember the cause, but the atmosphere is exhilarating. He mightn’t know why he’s yelling, but his voice merges into the thunderous chanting. Next to him, Bahorel is waving a flag. Everyone seems dishevelled in some way. Grantaire himself has a busted lip from being elbowed by a policeman. If he closes his eyes, he can feel himself being jostled by the crowd, moving in no particular direction.

Grantaire at a cafe. Everything is in shades of brown. People around him are chatting away, without a care. Somewhere, a customer is laughing hysterically. Grantaire is grinning down at his coffee. A red beanie is crammed onto his unruly ringlets, a leather jacket thrown over his usual attire in an attempt to look decent. It must be working, because the blonde in front of him is staring at him like he’s the most beautiful painting.

Victor wasn’t expecting Yuuri to take control of the kiss, but he certainly has no mind to stop him once he does, never tries to take it back. He’ll have anything Yuuri gives him, no questions asked.

It starts slow and soft, as it always does with Yuuri. Victor can taste the hesitation in his tongue, licking his bottom lip, shyly requesting entrance (as if Victor could ever deny him anything); feels it in the quivering of his fingers running through silver locks with reverent adoration.

But there is so much more to Yuuri than insecurities and self-doubts and no one knows that better than Victor; no one loves it more. Thus he’s not surprised when Yuuri’s hands stop trembling as they trace down his neck, press on his shoulders to push him down, his back on the mattress, and he’s not ashamed of the needy whimper that burns his throat when their lips part, Victor does, after all, quite like to remind Yuuri how weak he makes him, how much he affects him.

Yuuri’s lips are on his before he can linger on that thought too much, and this time, there’s no asking or requesting, just taking, and Victor has no qualms in giving himself up entirely, not to Yuuri.

His fingers ghost over Yuuri’s chest, travel up his neck to cup his cheek, the other hand on Yuuri’s waist and he pulls him even closer, because with Yuuri it’s never close enough, even when they’re melting into each other.

Yuuri’s hands squeeze Victor’s shoulders tight and move up his arms, slowly, as if he wants to map every curve of hard-trained muscle and commit it to memory. Then he finds Victor’s hands, pulls them away from his body (and Victor whines into Yuuri’s mouth because he wants and needs and loves), and laces their fingers into each other. They’re not perfectly fit –no two pairs of hands could possibly be- but Victor knows there are no other hands he wants to hold -there will never be- and that’s all that really matters.

As their breathing grows shallow, Yuuri pulls their laced hands, stretching Victor’s arms over his head, towards the headboard. He breaks the kiss then, his soft pants warm on Victor’s skin, and when Victor tries to chase after his mouth, he pulls further away and stays still for one, two, three heartbeats. His brown eyes are ablaze and Victor realizes he’s not going to be able to move as long as those eyes are looking at him like that. And then Yuuri’s fingers untangle from his. Victor whimpers at the loss, wants to protest, he needs, needs and Yuuri’s too, too far, but then Yuuri speaks for the first time.

“You’re not allowed to touch.”

A shiver runs down Victor’s spine and he swallows, his skin burning, the commanding tone ringing in his ears.

“Shouldn’t you tie me up then?” he asks, with the last bit of bravado left in his body, but even that dissipates with the little tilt in the corners of Yuuri’s lips.

“I could certainly do that.” He leans closer again, his mouth ghosting over Victor’s, tempting him to breech the breathe that separates them, but Victor knows it would be a mistake. “But I trust you, Victor. If I tell you you’re not allowed, I trust you can follow that simple direction and that I don’t need to physically restrain you.” He pulls back again, his eyes never leaving Victor’s, the tilt on his lips turning to a subtle, teasing smirk. The next words roll off his tongue like the promise of something forbidden. “Am I wrong to trust you?”.

He shakes his head as a response, he’s lost his voice altogether, for he’s realized that this man will be his utter ruin, and Victor has no intention of stopping him.

the way things change

I was told that i guess it’s just as well needed a happier ending, so.

Okay, so the original fic got canonballed, but I’m going to pretend it didn’t. So, this ignores Ginny’s injury and assumes that Mike and Rachel don’t reconcile in the post-season. Cool?

Read it on ao3

Having been to more of these events in her professional career than she could count, Rachel wasn’t sure what it was about this one that made her feel so visible. Her show has been getting fairly consistent ratings and she’s even been pulling in some big name guests. But this isn’t the visibility that comes with recognition; she knew what that looked like from a decade of being married to Mike. 

No, this was something more personal, more to do with the fact that this was the first time in a long time that Rachel Patrick was attending a function, personal or professional, without a date. 

Things hadn’t worked out with David, and Mike…

That ship had sailed long ago. 

She wasn’t sure what it said about her that she felt so exposed without someone at her side. Certainly nothing good. Maybe she’d have to take it up with her therapist…

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Dick-stractions (M) – Namjoon

Originally posted by baebsaes

Summary: In which Namjoon breaks the stove and has an… interesting plan to keep you from finding out.

Member: Namjoon

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: Smut

A/N: Yeah, so my mom kinda broke our stove… basically in the same way Namjoon does here. Also this was supposed to be fluff, but I got carried away…whoops. Also shout out to @taesjawline for helping me come up with this wonderfully punny title.

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Alone On Christmas.

Young!Sirius Black X Reader.

A/n: This was supposed to be a short drabble/imagine. I think i know who i really love writing for now… Also, this was requested, But i can’t find the prompt. Whoops.

Warnings: None!

Originally posted by potter-imagines-here

You walked tiredly into the Gryffindor common room, very ready to fall on your bed and sleep the night away. Even with the very little homework they gave you for the week before holiday break, you still found yourself studying up way later than what was aloud. At least they let you study in normal clothes. Hogwarts was amazing, but it worked you to the bone.

“Y/n?” You jumped at the sudden noise. You didn’t think that someone would even be in the common room at that hour. You looked around to see who it was, and saw Sirius Black, One of your best friends, Sitting in a Couch that was obviously moved closer to the fireplace than normal. 

“Sirius? What the hell are you doing up with late?” You asked, walking over to where he was huddled.

“Just… Thinking.” He muttered In his dramatic fashion. His breath was a little ragged, and his eyes were a very light shade of pink. Something was wrong, you could easily tell.

"Very like you to sit and feel bad about yourself in a corner.” You joked, earning a half hearted laugh from him. It really hurt you seeing him like that, even though he got like that 

“I just hate being alone on Christmas.” Sirius confessed, Sighing deeply.  “Everyone’s leaving in a few days and it fucking sucks being alone in Hogwarts.”

“If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.” You softly smiled, Taking a seat next to him. Wrapping an arm around him comfortingly. You felt him stiffen by you’re touch, so you loosened your grip. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Really?” You nodded a response. 

“Well Then, I don’t want to spend Christmas alone, will you stay with me?” He asked, a sparkle in his eyes as he softly spoke. The dim light from the fire lighting up his face in such a beautiful way. You realized you could never say no to him. especially with that amount of charm in one person. It should’ve been illegal, really. 

"Of course. I could never leave you.” You smiled, Hugging him tightly. It took him a second but he hugged you back with just as much warmth. 

“Actually there was that one ti-” He started, him. “Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder playfully. You were glad he was back to normal. 

“Thank you.. Really. You don’t have to do this.” Sirius said, his voice getting quieter. 

“Well people do anything for who they love.” You said so simply. You didn’t think it was a huge deal. You couldn’t help but slightly hate how easy it was to say it. How easily you feel for your friend. 

“You love me?” He looked you up and down, it seemed like he was searching. For what you did not know. Regret filled your body, and you could feel your cheeks heat up. Deep breaths, Everything was fine.

“Well, I mean-Yes?” Silence filled the room, and every single second felt like hell. The pop of the fire didn’t help either.

“Can i kiss you?” He asked, a smirk rising on his face. God damn it he was perfect. You couldn’t find the words to say anything, so you just nodded and closed your eyes. 

His lips pressed to yours softly. It felt like complete bliss. And you swore sparks started to fly when he slowly moved his hands to your lower hips, gripping them to hold you closer. It was better than anything you could ever dream of. You loved every second of it. To the way his hair felt in your fingers, and how he sighed when you pulled away just slightly. You wanted to take in every part of it and make it last forever. You didn’t know, But so did he.

“We should do that more.” He heavily breathed, breaking the long passionate kiss. You gazed into his dark eyes, which had such a stunning look of love.

“God yes.”

I Miss Our Talks

Requested by: @willowing-love (aka my fav angsty queen)

Drabble Prompts: “You know, it hurt when I realized that you’re not in love with me. But nothing can compare to the pain I felt when I saw you fall in love with her” AND “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.”

Pairing: Cas x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: angst to fluff

A/N: that awkward moment when youre supposed to be writing a drabble and it turns into a fucking oneshot. *WHOOPS*

“Where’s Cas?” you asked, looking around the room and seeing no one but the brothers.

“With Meg,” Dean muttered, staring at Sam’s laptop screen.

You felt a pang in your chest, clenching your jaw at Dean’s reply.

Fucking Meg.

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Imagine sleeping with Doyoung

Anon asked: I don’t suppose I could request a sleeping w/ doyoung 🙈🙈 Like, in the same way the sleeping w/ Jaehyun one was done 🙈 I hope you have a great Christmas!!! If you celebrate it! And if not then I hope you have a great day/night❤

……I tried my best on this I hope you like it. I also hope you had a good holiday anon. ^^

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Hold the Line

…It’s been 83 years and this isn’t any of the things I was supposed to be working on and it wound up being like 4k fuckin WHOOPS. Enjoy this Highly Predictable Scenario.


“Hanzo, get up…! You have to get up! Oh shit, oh shit shit shit…”

Crouched behind cover, you desperately shook the man, calling his name. Your eye squinted against the blood trickling into it – or was it from? Prepositions were irrelevant, you decided, but the sting of the blood hardly mattered weighed against the prone form of the archer beside you. He was whole, wholly – hopefully – uninjured (Oh god, please, don’t let him be hurt), but definitely unconscious.

You knew going in that the mission would be a hellstorm, but you never in all horrific possibilities expected Hanzo to flee his sniper’s perch – overwhelmed , probably. Talon wasn’t stupid (entirely), they knew who their threats were and it made sense to go after Hanzo, especially after he’d launched his Dragons into their numbers twice already. Still, to see him fleeing

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A/N: Haaappy Thanksgiving, I suppose? I’m not entirely sure as to what this is, but I suppose categorizing it as a “drabble” of sorts would be fine. Really, I kind of just threw this together while waiting for all the stuff I’ve been cooking to finish up in the oven. Modern AU, Astrid spending Thanksgiving with the Haddocks, a really bad pun, and so on. Cute thing ensue. :)

 It was… strange. This was her first (official) Thanksgiving spent with people who weren’t family–immediate family, and she still felt as if she found a place to belong.

Strange, but in the very best way. One that she could definitely get used to.

Astrid was only slightly surprised to find that Stoick and Hiccup were the two who took on a majority of the actual cooking, while Valka had covered the prep work. Astrid had been pleased to have been permitted to assist–and to have been praised for her knifework by Hiccup’s father.

She was literally not allowed to touch anything else. She could mince the garlic and finely chop the vegetables and apples and everything else that needed to be cut, but the actual cooking? Off limits, because Hiccup was just that much of a jerk. A gracious host–but a jerk nonetheless.

She still loved him, though. Endlessly so.

“You burn instant ramen,” he accused when she offered to assist with the soup being stewed. He looked so pleased with himself when his parents both laughed.

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fall out of line

a/n: well, that happened.
prompt: it was just supposed to be a bunch of dad jokes about normalcy and adjustment
rating: k/general audiences
cw: she/her pronouns for pidge in this one.

carefully we’re placed for our destiny

She could hear their overlapping laughter in her earrings, though there’s no doubt in her mind that comm links or no, she would still have heard Lance whooping loudly from inside his lion.

What she would give to have her father see them now - four young Earthlings piloting the lions of Voltron to wrestle, chase, and tag on the impromptu courtyard of the castle’s temporary base. Allura smiled as Coran ducked out of range of a falling paw, yelping when Hunk barely missed him a second time. He was bent forward, hands braced against his knees, and breathed a tired, “I’m getting too old for this,” into the comm link. She watched the green lion slink up behind him, tail flicking soundlessly as its large frame dropped low to the ground without shaking it. There was a short feed of Pidge chuckling before she moved the lion’s head forward, bumping its nose against Coran’s back and sending the older man stumble forward in a fright.

Coran spluttered into the comm link before gathering himself. “All right, paladins, we’ll see who’s laughing when the castle needs to be cleaned from foundation to tower.”

It had all started as thinly veiled training time in their lions and while there had been suspicions between her and Coran when they had all run past the control room, they couldn’t very well deny them the opportunity if it turned out to be genuine. And she was far from upset that it had dissolved into invigorated antics.

Their formations and focus had fallen away before she had fully turned to go back inside and even if they could stand the reminder that they needed to rest and that the lions weren’t really made to wildly roll around in, it was hard to fight it when her bones practically thrummed with the deep, pleased purrs of the lions. She liked seeing her team like this.

The door behind her whirred, nearly silent footsteps coming to her spot on the balcony. Shiro stepped to her side, folding his arms over his chest and shrugging. “They’re beyond reason, I’m afraid.”

“The universe could never hope to be prepared then.”

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Hello friends.

I apologize that I am back with more shitty flower crown edits.

I need to find a picture of Earth at his kit to edit.

I’m supposed to be writing a 500 word “historical context” blurb about the painting my senior thesis is on. I’m about half way done right now. Whoops.

Whoops this was supposed to be posted yesterday for the AU but I got a little held up :/ of course I’m writing for my fave AU which is @geek-fashionista‘s sidekick!Adrien AU, it is life.

Her finger jabs at him, arms stiff.

“You idiot.”

“Is that new?” Adrien grins, tilting his head and curving over her. Ladybug stalks towards him, shoulders drawn up tensely, and Adrien shifts back a little, face falling.

“What’s the matter, bugaboo?”

“The matter? You want to ask what the matter is? You—you nearly died out there, Adrien!” Ladybug’s voice rises to a shrill and she pushes him back. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“But… I didn’t. Die. It was just my arm.” He stares at her, peering into her blue, limpid eyes. Eyes which are shrinking into slits.

“I don’t care if you didn’t, you could’ve! And then you would be gone and it would have been all my fault do you understand because what if I hadn’t been so close to you, Adrien, and I didn’t save you do you understand? How are you so stupid? And it was ‘just your arm’, that’s bullshit, if I hadn’t come in in time the rest of you would’ve been blasted too. And it’s only thanks to the Miraculous Ladybug that you’re even with both your arms. What if I couldn’t get to you in time? And you—you, you… died?” She had started pacing, hands reaching up to clutch her hair. Ladybug jabs a finger in his chest again. “And I wouldn’t have your stupid ass around to save anymore? And you couldn’t send me your stupid texts and that stupid black cat emoji—you can’t do this anymore! Helping me! You don’t think things through, you’re too impulsive, and I can’t be everywhere at once and—and”

“Woah, slow down, my Lady. Don’t get so freaked out. I’m still here.” He leans against the wall, crosses his arms, smirks.

Storming towards him, Ladybug screams, “No, you stupid idiot—” and grabs his jacket and yanks Adrien down roughly, slamming his lips onto her open and furious mouth.

Adrien’s hands hover over her arms and his nose squashes under her cheek. He can’t hear anything, just a roar in his ears, a pounding in his head. But her warm breath puffs against his lower lip and Ladybug tilts her head to the side, forcing open his mouth and his lips starts moving against hers, his arms wrap around her, pulling her in, cradling her head with his hand. He can feel her body pressed up against him, her knuckles brushing his jaw as they clench their fistfuls of black leather jacket. There is something wet against his nose, on her cheek. He can feel the pressure with which she crushes into him, the way their lips (and his breath) catch as she drags hers across his. She tastes like singed sugar. Adrien roves his fingers through Ladybug’s hair, anchoring his palm on the side of her neck and brushing her blue-black locks away from her ear. Ladybug shivers. She lingers by his lower lip before pulling away.

“Stupid. Model boy face. Idiot.” She mumbles into his chest.

“May I suggest that you expand your vocabulary? ‘Dumbass’, perhaps?”

She swats his face.

“Hey.” Adrien leans back, looking down, and draws Ladybug’s chin up. “I promise I will never die on you, okay?” He leans in as she cranes her face up and he presses his lips to hers, moving slowly, gently easing her mouth open. Their lips slip and he’s kissing the corner of her mouth, heaving in a ragged breath. He moves up, kisses her cheek, her temple, the top of her head. His arm is still wrapped around Ladybug and he can feel the urgency of her ribcage expanding and contracting.

They stand like that for a while. Her breathing slows.

She steps back, and he leans against the wall again. Swathes of her cheeks glint under the yellow light of the streetlamp. She swipes at her eyes. Presses her lips into a smile.

“I’ll see you around, dumbass.”

She flings her yoyo around a building and she is gone.

So basically this heartbreaking meta smashed into my Klance shipper heart along with all of the anxiety about what’s going to happen to Shiro and all the angsty Galra!Keith theories and suddenly fic happened. There is a lot more of this that I will be posting but it got waaaaay out of hand from the one-shot it was supposed to be, so have the first chapter for now. ( @strixmoonwing I used your Blue Lion theory for a fic, I hope you don’t mind)

Warnings: violence, gore, Major Character Death, and a whole lotta angst

Chapters 5/5

Part 1: Lance | Part 2: Shiro | Part 3: Keith | Part 4: Hunk | Epilogue: Pidge

EDIT: This fic is now also posted on AO3! Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8249171/chapters/18903362

What We Lose Along the Way

It takes a decade to tear out the heart of the Galra Empire. With Zarkon defeated, the universe is safe and peaceful once again, and Pidge is free to return home. But those ten years have not passed without change and sacrifice. What happened to the five young Paladins that left Earth so long ago?

Part 1: Lance

           When the planet came into sight, Pidge burst into tears.

           The patterns of green and blue were achingly familiar. Clouds swirled across the surface in what Pidge thought was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. The moon hung in space beside it, silver and placid. City lights twinkled in the dark.

           She hadn’t set foot on Earth in over ten years.

           She heard footsteps behind her and scrubbed rapidly at her leaky eyes. She was a grown woman, the sometime Green Paladin of Voltron, Defender of the Universe, Vanquisher of Rido, the Savior of Keinsh, the Hand that Slew the Galra, and she didn’t cry. Even if it was just in front of her brother.

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A Wizard’s Misgivings: Chapter 3

Summary:Dan Howell’s entire family has been in Slytherin, and there’s no doubt he’d supposed to end up there too. Phil Lester does’t exactly know what to do when he finds himself liking boys, so he’s usually just horrendously mean to them. 

Word Count: 4.8k

SW (squick warning!! i’ve learned that we’re not supposed to be saying trigger so casually): a scrape on a knee due to falling on a rock

link to masterlist and next chapter

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Whoops I wrote a thing for this, and it was not even the thing I was supposed to be writing this afternoon.

Digijacks and Jackothy, probably not sfw but not explicit.

“No, come on, let me see that for a minute.” Jack grabs for Tim’s wrist and Timothy tries to pull back but Jack is too quick. “You mean to tell me you never tried this? You’re missing out, buddy - look what they can do.”

Jack holds Tim’s wrist firmly in one hand as the other accesses the wristpad that summons the digijacks. They shimmer into existence in front of Tim as Jack’s fingers fly over the keypad, and he’s not sure exactly what Jack’s typing in but those subroutines don’t look familiar. The digijacks blink in unison as Jack executes a command and a faint ripple goes through both of them as Jack shuts down the wristpad and lets go of Tim.

The digijacks look at Jack and at Tim, and then at each other. They smile together, which - has Tim ever seen them have real facial expressions before? He doesn’t think so - and then they’re turning toward each other and wow, that’s a hand on a digital ass and they’re fitting their lips together and suddenly it’s a lot warmer in here.

Jack’s rubbing his hands together next to him, a gleeful smile on his face, and - this is weird, right? This should be weird. But if he’s honest Tim passed weird a long time ago, and the sight of the digital Jacks making out in front of him is a lot less strange than some of the things he’s seen. Jack’s an attractive guy, Tim can admit that, and watching the digijacks sigh into each others mouths is - well. Tim shifts a little, wondering if he can surreptitiously adjust his pants.

Jack elbows him in the side. “Pretty great, right? I know, I’m a genius.” Jack glances sideways at Tim, adopting a thoughtful tone. “They’re just a preview, though - I bet they’re nowhere as good as the real thing.”

Tim doesn’t know what Jack means by that until Jack turns him with one hand on his hip and another coming up to cup his face. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the digijacks lift their mouths from each other, and then he’s hit with three identical smirks, although the two on the side pale in comparison to the one staring him down from inches away.

“What do you say, handsome?” Jack says, thumb brushing Tim’s cheek. “Interested?”

Tim gulps. He feels like he should say no to this - but he doesn’t want to, and he’s far away from home and everything that used to make sense, and sometimes it feels like Jack’s the only stable ground in a world that’s constantly shifting.

Jack’s watching him intently, waiting. His hands are warm on Timothy’s skin.

They’re the same height, so it’s easy to step into him, to watch Jack’s eyes light up as Timothy leans in.

Interested,” Tim says, right before he presses his lips to Jack’s. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Missed Anniversary

Originally posted by em-ily-pren-tiss

Request: Could you do a Emily x reader were Emily breaks a promise so the reader gives her the silent treatment which leads to Emily begging for forgiveness •~• 

Warnings- Slightly suggestive I suppose.

A/N- Whoop getting the hang of this writing jazz (ish).

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A Wizard’s Misgivings: Chapter 4

summary: Dan Howell’s entire family has been in Slytherin, and there’s no doubt he’d supposed to end up there too. Phil Lester does’t exactly know what to do when he finds himself liking boys, so he’s usually just horrendously mean to them. 

tw: ahh fighting, almost getting pushed off a tower ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

word count: 5.8k (for someone who couldn’t get motivated to write this chapter for a week and a half, can i get a WOAH?)

link to masterlist and link to next chapter 

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Title: let’s make a deal

Pairing: RoyalChaos

Rating: NC-17

Summary: You see, Anthony had never meant to summon a demon.

Notes: this is my 666th post, so i decided to do something…inappropriately appropriate. i had LOTS of fun writing this, and it was supposed to be done a few days ago but turned out much longer than expected (~6,000 words), whoops. probably one of the most light-hearted things i’ve written, and it’s about a demon deal. demon!ze, mage!chilled, wayne brady, demon dicks are weird, questionable witchcraft, the cheesiest demon ever, blood, binding ritual, sexual content, lots of cursing, true names, puns.

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twisteddaydream  asked:


//Gosh, where do I start? I love writing Niles because he has the same dirty mind that I have, well, his may be a tad bit worse. I find it so fun coming up with innuendos while writing him and straight up flirting with p much everyone. Another reason why I like writing him is because he’s just so different from how I am- whereas he is direct and blunt, I am totally the opposite. So I suppose in a way, writing him is partly teaching myself to be more direct with people and have more confidence in myself owo

Smallest of Traces (Wonwoo x Reader ft. Vernon)

Wonwoo x Reader ft. Vernon

Genre: Angst ????

Word Count: 420 words (yes, I know, it’s short)

I was supposed to be writing something based on a graphic by @yoonjunqhan but then this happened…whoops! Hopefully I’ll be able to write it later!! (I’m just worried of messing up OTL)

Dt: @dimplejoonie because NaNa is so unsure of her own feelings.

Wonwoo + City

   Wonwoo sees you in the city. He sees you in the hustle and bustle, in the crowd of colors, because you’re the only dull thing amongst the sea. He sees you in the cabs, your own complexion a stark contrast to the yellow painted against the doors of the cars, going on your way to meet someone shiny, someone new, someone who isn’t him.

  Wonwoo sees you in a cafe, sitting across from someone named Hansol, who smiles and listens to your stories. Hansol, who has hair like the cinnamon in your coffee, clasps his hands together, leans across the table ever-so-slightly so as to hear you better, hanging off every word and syllable that slips through your mouth. Wonwoo, sitting in a corner, dressed in a coat that holds far too many memories of you, wonders if Hansol listens to you better than he ever has.

  When the moon awakens, pulling the blanket of stars over the world, Wonwoo sees you and Hansol walking down the street, connected by your hands and the subtle string of red attached to your pinkies. Puffs of smoke push past your mouth, and Hansol asks if you’re cold, because Wonwoo no longer has the luxury of asking you anything.

  Wonwoo sees you in the park, still in the company of Hansol, who is sure to realize how lucky he is to be able to talk to you by now. He watches as Hansol hesitantly, timidly leaning forward to place a kiss on your cheek, warming the skin beneath it. Wonwoo can see the happy change in Hansol’s face when he notices the flowers that bloom on your cheeks, laughing contentedly before hugging you close.

  Bones creaking, Wonwoo sees you in himself. He sees your fingers tracing along his jawline, his collarbone, playing with his own fingers before lacing them together. He sees your eyes staring back at him, eyes reflecting his own that beg a silent plea of pleasepleaseplease. He sees every inch, every cell, every particle of your own being on his, because you had given him a piece of yourself before shutting him out completely. You’ve tattooed your broken love on his ribcage, plastered signs on his arms that shout of a missing heart, and kissed his lips before departing, draining him of any warmth he had, leaving him a cold, shuddering shell.

  Wonwoo sees you everywhere, because the big city is a small place, and you’ve left traces of yourself in places where you know he’ll see you.

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