#//you might have to just look up a review ^^;

[leafostuff]

No Strings Attached [Ft. Billlie's Sheon and Tsuki]

Author's Note: Im out of Hiatus!!!

And finally the continuation of No Names Needed, fun fact - this idea of a sequel with both Tsuki and Sheon was in my brain for a long time, i only now found the inspiration, time and energy to write it.

By the time this will come out, it will be 2025 so happy new year everyone, hope yall thought about your resolutions and had the a blast for 2024, Soon also my writerversary will come as well (Feb 5th) so that is hype as well.

Lastly, just want to thank @defmaybe for helping with beta reading the fic, it kinda is quite a mess when it comes to plot but i honestly enjoyed writing this so much.

And without further ado, hope yall have a fun read

================================================

So after that entire situation at the club’s bathroom with the mysterious girl, a couple of questions are now stuck in your head:

Firstly, how did she manage to convince you for a second round at her place so easily?, It’s not like you were in the right headspace for any reason considering you just reviewed the best head of your life and you were excited to see more of her but still.

Second, what are the odds that just as you were ready to take off your shirt, her roommate just so happened to arrive from her shift? Having to sit quietly on their couch listening to the awkward argument of having to leave the dorm for tonight so her roommate could sleep in peace after a long shift.

And lastly: why are they now making out on the bed with their underwear only?

“Nghh…Sheon…” is the only her roommate (which you are still not sure about

Her name) can mutter between kisses, her voice is sweet on the ears, especially when she moans with how her partner latches her luscious lips (which you can vouch for by experience) latch on a particular spot on her neck, “so good…”

“Yes unnie, it is so good” it's the way Sheon elongates the last two words which raises the sexual tension inside the room, and her hands are not left idle, rubbing her right thigh back and forth. 

“And look, he is so hard for us right now” she adds before slightly tilting her roommate's face toward your naked erection, everything happened so fast you don't even remember when you took off your pants. “What do you say, oppa, ready for round two?”

“Fuck, as long you tell me your cute roommate's name,” you finally respond, already inching closer to them with impatience and lust. However, it seems like Sheon has other plans.

“That’s not how it works” Sheon lets out a disappointed sigh, “You can't just get a girl’s name like that, first you need to let her suck your cock.” To any other person, Sheon’s response would be fucked up, but to you and the two girls? For some reason, it just makes sense. “But before all of that, let me get unnie to show her tits to us”.

Words quickly turn into actions as Sheon unclasped her roommate's bra, letting it fall onto the sheets, giving her mounds the full view they desperately needed. It's hard to pinpoint exactly her size, especially with how Sheon is not wasting a second by slowly pushing her friend’s face lower to face the tip of your hardness.

The last stretch though, she does by herself and honestly? Those two girls might as well be sisters since like Sheon, as soon as her lips wrap around the tip of your cock a switch flips in her head, immediately starting with slow and steady bobbing movement toward the base of your cock.

She even has the same deadly stare Sheon has when she looks up, seeing your eyes closed while biting your lips every time she gets your cock deeper inside her, letting out a soft mumble resembling a chuckle before increasing the pace and the passion she uses to drain you.

And it drives you fucking insane.

“Oh my god unnie, you suck his cock so fucking amazing” Sheon is shocked at the oral assault her roommate expertly does. “Let me just get naked and then I will start sucking his balls, okay, unnie?” Even with the immense pleasure you receive you can still see how Sheon quickly takes off her bra to reveal her rather small mounds before diving downward, facing your cock with a hungry gaze.

She shifts around to find a comfortable position near her roommate and then, without leaving you a place to get used to it, she immediately reaches her tongue forward, giving it a teasing lick that sends shivers to your brain never felt before.

The only thing you can do is grip the mattress of the bed, trying to find some semblance of control over your body while two professional arsonists set your body aflame with pleasure that can only be described as messy and the sounds they make doesn't help your situation.

“Mm shewon-” the black-haired girl muffles with your cock still inside her mouth, “he is swo hawrd-nghh…” she manages to say to her friend, who seems to get excited with each moment seeing her friend being fucked.

“I know, right? I bet he really likes it when girls like us suck his big, thick cock,” Sheon responds while her hands go to her roommate's hair, moving it from her face to give more space, then she turns to you. “What about you, oppa, getting close for my unnie?”.

You can only nod in response, as any other will take too much energy from you. “That's great oppa,” Sheon adds, taking a look sideways and see how into the feeling the other girl, you could bet she’s not even hearing a word of your conversation as her entire soundscape consistent of licking, slurping and moaning, all which gets you closer to what they have been waiting.

But then, Sheon rises from her position, moving herself from near her roommate to now sitting behind you. You can feel how one of her hands snakes up from behind, gliding across your naked chest before leaning her mouth to your right ears, whispering the magic you didn't know even existed.

“Fill her”

And all hell breaks loose. This simple request is enough to send you into overdrive, as you quickly put each of your hands on the black-haired girl’s head for control before releasing your first shot of your load into her mouth.

And it just doesn't stop, your mind is all hazy only focusing on that request, each buck of your hips forward gets you reaching the back of her mouth with your cock and then unloading another round of cum down her throat, getting the both of you to release a moan.

Sheon? She’s ecstatic, jumping up and down behind you frantically. Each pump of yours gets her giggling and smiling wider. “Yes, yes, yes!!, fill her oppa, fill my Tsuki unnie, she's such a slut for your big cock, let her have all of it” As if she knew all of your sweet spots, she reached her lips to your ear, giving it a loving kiss which gets you hornier.

Below you, Tsuki lets out tears from the pleasure overtaking her entire body, each drop of cum getting inside her gets her moaning while her hands gripping your thighs to not faint, meanwhile managing to mutter a slutty, needy “more” every time she takes her lips out to catch her breath, before taking you in further.

Your last drops of your white load eventually gets swallowed by Tsuki’s, pulling her lips out of your cock and letting you fall onto the bed, pleasure blurs every bit of your vision, finally having time to catch your breath for the first time of the night and your heartbeat to slow down.

“Fuck…you two…are insane” is the only thing you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“And the best part, oppa? We're not over yet,” Sheon says, her voice still seductive, you manage to raise your head and see the two girls as you suddenly notice something: their panties are off.

In front of you are now two girls, fully naked, presenting themselves to you in their full glory, Sheon with a slutty smile and a bite on her lower lip while Tsuki demeanor is more reserved however her eyes share the same curiosity and excitement as her roommate. Immediately, this gets you up and running once again.

“That's right Oppa, you still didn't have the chance to cum on Tsuki unnie's thighs…or inside my ass, and especially…” She then goes behind Tsuki, quickly inserting two digits into her pussy while her other hand goes to grope one of her tits, getting Tsuki to gasp in surprise from the surprising touch over her body.

 “You didn't get to cum inside our tight little pussies, Oppa,” she adds, now you're fully immersed in the show in front of you.

“Who knows, maybe a round or two later we could hear your name, right?”

It’s that question that guarantees both to them and to you that tonight's gonna be unlike any other night you ever had in your life.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 48

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,770ish

Summary: You and Laura rebuild your lives. Spans from 2029 to 2035.

Warning(s):  nightmares, injuries

Notes: I hope this chapter is okay! I know that it's not terribly long and skips a lot. Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You woke up with a jolt. The image of Logan laying there bloody against the tree still fresh in your mind all these months later.

You made it across the border with Laura. You found Eden, the official safe haven, and you hated every moment of it. The leaders there were happy to have an X-Men on their side, but you no longer felt like an X-Men. When you expressed your desire to leave, they weren’t too happy but agreed to help. They gave you enough money for a cheap car and first and lasts months rent for a small one bedroom apartment. They urged you not to take Laura, but there was no way the two of you were going to be separated.

You sighed, turning your head to find Laura staring back at you. You moved onto your side to face her.

“You had another nightmare,” she whispered.

“Did I burn you?” You asked. You had woken up a few times to Laura spraying you down with a fire extinguisher, making you thankful for keeping extras on hand.

“No. No flames this time.”

“But I woke you?”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, sweetie. You need to be getting rest too.”

“Can’t… nightmares.”

You reached over and began to run your hand up and down her arm. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

~~~

You were able to get a teaching job after taking a few classes to renew your license, with help from the people at Eden. Laura was able to go to school with you. Laura was a good and smart kid, but she had her father’s temper and patience. That meant you spent a lot of time in the principal’s office with Laura the first few months of school. You were just grateful that Laura had yet to show her claws off to anyone yet.

You sighed as you drove home. Laura was in the seat beside you, staring out the window with her purple sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Laura, you know that I completely stand by you when it comes to standing up for others,” you began, “but you cannot beat each bully up because of it.”

“They deserved it,” she muttered, keeping her gaze out the window.

“That doesn’t matter, Laura. We need to be better than the bullies.”

“Dad would have been proud.”

You slammed on your breaks as your breath caught. “What?”

“I said that Dad would have been proud.”

You swallowed, mind reeling at the mention of Logan. The car behind you honked, pulling your from your thoughts and causing you to continue to drive forward.

“Your father…” you breathed out. “Your father might have been proud of you, that’s true, but he also would tell you never to do it again. That it’s not actually a victory to lower yourself to the bullies standards. He would not want that for you.”

Laura looked over at you and reached over, touching your arm. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m not mad.”

“No,” she shook her head, “sorry for making you sad.”

It was like a punch to the gut. This little girl was way too observant for her own good.

“I’m fine, Laura,” you told her, pressing out a smile. “I’m not sad.”

Laura looked at you for a moment before going back to staring out the window. You knew she didn’t believe you one bit.

~~~

Nights were the hardest. Though you shared a bed with Laura, you missed the way Logan would hold you close at night. You always felt safe and wanted. You would try to cry it all out in the shower, hoping that Laura couldn’t hear you, but she could. Silent tears would still slip down your cheeks as you tried to sleep. 

Laura would often notice, her senses like her father’s. She would reach over and take your hand, hoping that would be enough to calm you. Sometimes it was, sometimes it made it worse. You were the much older adult. You needed to be the strong one for this little girl who was still struggling with her own trauma. Yet, many days you couldn’t put your own problems aside. Laura didn’t push or press though. 

Both of you were the only constants in each other’s lives now. You didn’t know it, but through your own tears, you were helping Laura. She grew up in a place where emotion was not okay. By you showing your ranges of emotions, you were showing her that it was okay to show emotion.

One night, you woke up to a sharp pain in your arm. You looked over to see Lauras claws in your arm. She was crying out and thrashing around, all of her claws out for show. Careful not to move too much with her claws in you, turned over to face her and reached your other arm over.

“Laura, sweetie,” you called calmly. “Wake up. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up.”

Laura gasped as she shot up. Her eyes scanned the bedroom for any short of danger. She froze when she saw her claws in her arm.

“No,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “No, no, no, no!”

“It’s okay, Laura! I’m fine. I’ll heal.”

“No!” She continued to shake her head.

You winced as she wanked her claws out and scurried away until she fell off the bed and hid herself in the corner. You didn’t even bother to look at your wound as you crawled over the bed and sat yourself down on the floor next to it. 

“It’s okay, Laura,” you repeated. “We’re okay.”

The two of you sat in silence, the only notable sound being her heaving breathing. Suddenly, you got an idea. You reached out your good arm and turned your hand so that your palm was up. A flame formed in your palm, lighting up the area a little and catching Laura’s eyes. 

“See? I’m okay,” you whispered, ignoring the fact that your palm was actually aching as you formed the palm. 

Laura’s eyes darted down to your injured, bloody arm, feeling little relief though it was healing. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, still staring at it.

“No, need,” you shook your head. “It was a nightmare… You know, Logan got nightmares often.”

“I know.”

“Do you know that be stabbed me a few times as well?”

“He did?”

“Yes. He hated himself for every injury he ever caused me, but I rarely ever let him run away from me. I knew that it would only make it worse. So I helped him.”

“How?”

“I would hold him. Let me know I was there still. Sometimes I would use my heat to relax him. His muscles were always so tense after a nightmare.” You watched as Laura rolled her shoulders, like she was testing if it was the same for her. “I can help you, too.” 

You extinguished the flame and held out both of your arms. Laura was hesitant at first but then slowly moved over. As soon as you could, you pulled her into your lap and held her against you. You kept your body heat at a comforting temperature as kept her close.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”

It didn’t take long for Laura to fall back asleep in the safety of your hold.

~~~

You stood next to the car as you waited for Laura to finish chatting with her friend. You listened in as a small smile formed on your lips. It had been over a year since the two of you basically reset your lives and this was the first time Laura seemed interested in having a friend.

“Can you come over to my house to hang out?” Her friend asked. “My mom can take us and then bring you home.”

“Uh, let me ask my mom,” Laura said. 

Laura turned around and hurried over to you. You were staring at her in shock. You had never heard her call you that before, not that you were mad.

“Hey, um, mom,” she said once she was in front of you. Her voice was nervous. “Can I go over to Alex’s house? Alex’s mom can bring me home.”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, still processing your new name. “Of course. Just keep your phone on you and let me know if you need me to come get you.”

“Okay! Thanks! Love you!” Then she rushed back to her friend.

“Love you, too.”

~~~.

As the years past, Laura and you grew closer. You were not just a mother-daughter duo, you were best friends. Both of you had opened up about your lives over the years, making each other the only ones who knew intimate details about the other. She was now starting her senior year of high school, trying to figure out her life, and, for some reason, yours.

“Just one date.”

“I told you, Laura, I’m not interested.”

“Come on. He’s cute.”

“I’m not going out on a date with my boss.” You shook your head as you continued to make dinner. “That’s just weird any so many ways. Besides, he definitely doesn’t see me like that.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “He literally looks at you like he could take you right then and there.”

“Laura! He does not!”

“Oh, he does, and everyone knows it but you. Come on, mom, it’s been six years, it’s time—“

“I’ve told you this before, Laura, I’m not going to date anyone and that’s okay. Your father was it for me.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I just don’t like the idea of me going to college and you being here all alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know about that. You haven’t been alone like this before.” You finally turned to face her. “Laura, thank you so much for taking care of me all these years. But it’s okay that you could live your own life. I’ll be okay… We’ll be okay.”

~~~

The two of you were out shopping for new clothes for the school year when it happened. You and Laura were walking down the street. Laura’s backpack was thrown over her shoulder as she was always prepared for anything and kept one of her father’s comics on her at all times. Neither of you saw it coming. Before you knew it, someone tased you from behind and then Laura. 

The world around you disappeared and you suddenly were thrown into an unfamiliar place. You and Laura tumbled to the ground. You groaned as a pair of boots stepped into your vision. You looked up to see a bald woman standing over you.

“Welcome to the Void.”

next chapter >

[breelandwalker]

How do I know if I should give up? My spells never work, I haven't been chosen or approached by any deities, and I just feel like I'm not really a witch. Is this just impossible for some people?

Oh honey....listen, come sit by me for a second.

What you're feeling? This is totally normal. And just about every witch I've ever talked to has felt something similar at some point in their practice, including me. Success in spellwork is not a requirement for being a "real" witch, although it is nice when it happens. Contact with deities isn't a necessity either.

To be a real witch, you just have to decide that you are one and practice some form of witchcraft, whatever that means to you. What's most important is that you feel fulfilled by what you're doing, even if that means taking a break from casting just to rest or reflect or research. Sometimes it's hard to feel that connection and fulfillment, especially if things are frustrating or don't seem like they're working, or if you don't really have a community connection to pull you through, but that does NOT mean you're in any way a failure or not a real witch. It just means you've hit a slump.

Let me offer a little advice that might help.

If you're having trouble with your spells, try new methods. Review what you've done before, mark down what doesn't work, and try it another way. See if you can close some loopholes or approach a problem from a different angle. Don't be afraid to start small! SO much of witchcraft lives in the little things we do, and it's not necessary to put all your proverbial chips into big all-or-nothing spells and rituals. It can be as simple as stirring a blessing into your tea or setting your protections when you lock your door. Record what you do and look back at it later. I think you might be surprised by the results.

As for deities, if there's someone you'd like to venerate or work with, there's nothing stopping you from reaching out first. Make an overture, make a petition, say a prayer, put out a little offering. You can do all of these things without being "chosen" or dedicating yourself to a deity. It's perfectly fine to just offer a little praise and thanks or to ask for help when you need it. You don't need permission to say hello. (And I'll let you in on a secret - most witches who venerate deities or work with them? Aren't "chosen" or approached by anyone. YOU can be the one who chooses.)

If you're feeling like you have no spark or motivation, you might try returning to the things that inspired you to take up witchcraft initially. See if that reignites anything, or maybe inspires you to try something new. If you need somewhere to start, there's a tag marked "Advice for Beginner Witches" on my blog with lots of tips and ideas. Also, talk to other witches! Sometimes an outside perspective might help move a block or provide fresh ideas.

Hope this helps! If you have more questions, please feel free to reach out!

[growthhyp]

The Transforming Cum V

Vincent’s eyes lit up as he measured Jonathan’s massive frame, his hands trembling with excitement. The tailor had always dreamed of working on a canvas like this—muscles so defined they seemed sculpted out of marble. “You’re going to need custom everything,” Vincent said, running a tape measure across Jonathan’s chest. The fabric I have here won’t even begin to contain you.

Jonathan chuckled, flexing his biceps unconsciously. “That’s why I came to you. Zayne and Chris will be next. They’ll need your expertise too.”

Vincent nodded, already sketching designs in his mind. “Consider it done. But first—” He paused, glancing at Jonathan with a sly smile. “Let’s make sure you’re comfortable. I might need you to try on a few prototypes before we settle on the final design.”

By the time Jonathan left Vincent’s shop, he felt like a new man. Not just physically, but mentally too. His confidence was soaring, and he couldn’t wait to tell Zayne about their new personal tailor.

Later that evening, Jonathan sat down with Zayne over coffee. “Vincent’s incredible,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s even willing to work on clothes for you and Chris. We’ve got style covered now.”

Zayne grinned, clearly impressed. “Good thinking. Now, what about maintaining all that muscle? You can’t slack off, you know.”

Jonathan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. The school gym isn’t cutting it anymore. I need something bigger, better. But…” He hesitated, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m broke. College student problems.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “There’s gotta be something nearby. What about that place 15 minutes from your apartment?”

Jonathan shrugged. “The reviews are terrible. People say the trainer doesn’t set a good example. Apparently, he’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a fitness coach.”

Curiosity piqued, Jonathan decided to check it out for himself. The gym wasn’t far, and with a month’s worth of savings tucked away, he figured he could at least give it a shot.

When Jonathan walked into the dimly lit gym, he was struck by how empty it felt. A few scattered patrons lifted weights in silence, and behind the counter stood a man who looked anything but a trainer. Jim was tall but painfully thin, his wiry frame swallowed by an oversized hoodie. His face was gaunt, his eyes tired, but there was a spark of determination in them that intrigued Jonathan.

“Hey,” Jonathan greeted, stepping up to the counter. “I’m interested in signing up.”

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? You… want to join my gym?”

Jonathan nodded, offering a friendly smile. “Yeah. I’ve been looking for a place to train. What’s the deal here?”

Jim sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Honestly? It’s not great. I inherited this place from my dad. It was his passion, but after he passed, I’ve struggled to keep it going. And—” He hesitated, lowering his voice. “I have a rare muscle atrophy disorder. No matter how much I train, I can’t build muscle. People see me and think, ‘Why would I take advice from him?’”

Jonathan’s heart went out to the guy. There was something heartbreakingly earnest about Jim, and suddenly, Jonathan had an idea.

“What if I could help you?” Jonathan said, leaning in closer. “What if I told you I have a way to transform your body—permanently?”

Jim blinked, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean? How?”

Jonathan smirked, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a special gift I have. All you have to do is trust me.”

Jim’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced around nervously. “I don’t know… What exactly are you proposing?”

Jonathan leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Here’s the deal. In exchange for a lifetime membership, I’ll give you the body of your dreams. Think about it. You’ll be the perfect advertisement for this gym. People will flock to you.”

Jim bit his lip, considering. “And this… gift. What does it involve?”

Jonathan’s smile turned mischievous. “It involves me. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

Jim’s breath hitched, and he nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Jonathan led Jim to a private corner of the gym, away from prying eyes. As they stood close, Jonathan’s hands found Jim’s waist, pulling him in. Jim trembled under his touch, his body tense with anticipation.

“Relax,” Jonathan murmured, his lips brushing against Jim’s ear. “Just let me take care of you.”

Jim shivered, his hands gripping Jonathan’s arms for support. “I’ve never… I mean, I’m… a virgin,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jonathan’s eyes softened. “Then I’ll make this special for you.”

Slowly, Jonathan guided Jim to the floor, laying him down gently. He peeled off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled torso, and watched as Jim’s eyes widened in awe.

“You’re beautiful,” Jim breathed, reaching up to touch Jonathan’s abs.

Jonathan chuckled, lowering himself until their bodies were pressed together. “You’re about to feel even better.”

As Jonathan prepared Jim, he noticed how tight the man was, untouched and virginal. It only made him more determined to make this unforgettable.

“Ready?” Jonathan asked, his voice husky with desire.

Jim nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yes. Please.”

The moment Jonathan entered him, Jim gasped, his body arching off the ground. It was overwhelming, the sensation both foreign and exhilarating. Jonathan moved slowly at first, giving Jim time to adjust, but soon the rhythm picked up, their bodies moving in sync.

Jonathan could feel the heat building inside him, and when he finally came, it was with a force that left them both breathless.

But something unexpected happened. As Jonathan pulled out, Jim’s body began to change. Muscles swelled beneath his skin, his frame growing larger and more defined with every passing second.

“Oh God,” Jim moaned, clutching at his chest as the transformation took hold. “What’s happening to me?”

Jonathan watched in awe as Jim’s once frail body morphed into that of a cocky bodybuilder. Every inch of him radiated power and confidence, and the look on Jim’s face was pure ecstasy.

“You’re beautiful,” Jonathan whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

Jim lay there, panting, his new muscles glistening with sweat. “I feel… amazing,” he said, his voice deeper, richer.

And then, as if the pleasure was too much to bear, Jim came, his own transformation complete. The two men collapsed side by side, their bodies still humming with raw energy.

Jim turned to Jonathan, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “So, about that lifetime membership…”

[wolfpants]

my year in fic: 2024!

Thank you so much for tagging me @sitp-recs! I loved putting this little roundup together. I struggled a bit this year, creatively - I think because I had such a massive output in 2023 (226k words 😱) I was going through burnout and also feeling like I couldn't quite live up to the longfics I had posted the previous year. But putting this together, and realising I've written 120k words, I'm actually really surprised - and happy! I've done a real mix of pairings, too.

I look forward to 2025 - I'm planning to take part in Kinkuary again, and I have a few other projects up my sleeve including my first Drarry (long) 8th year fic, a collab, and a follow-up fic to a Drarry I've already published. I'm determined to go into next year with a clear and positive head and continue to stick to writing (and sharing!) what I love!

Much love to you all - wishing you all a fabulous festive season! No pressure tagging @getawayfox @tackytigerfic @maesterchill @houndsinhades @the-invisibility-bloke @toomuchplor @citrusses @skeptiquewrites @hoko-onchi-writes and anyone else who wants to share their 2024 wrapped!

-

Drarry

🌟 All Is Calm, All Is Bright | E, 7k | Drarry

Tags: infidelity, Christmas markets, photographer Harry, angst and feels, pining

“Ernie and I are getting a divorce,” Draco says. A stone drops heavily in the pit of Harry’s stomach. He startles. Draco nods. He lifts his mug to his lips and sinks the contents. “Yes,” he says, his voice tight. 

🌺 Come In, the Water's Lovely | E, 4k | Drarry

Tags: established relationship smut, showering/bathing/swimming, tent sex

Harry laughs against Draco’s wet, soap-sweet skin and lets his hands fall to his waist. He steals another soft kiss. “Want me to help with that? Reviews say I’m not very clinical at all. I’m positively… extravagant.” Draco bends his head forward again and nips Harry’s lip, then soothes it with a slow swipe of his tongue. “A giver of deluxe wanks.”

🥂 How to Begin | E, 8k | Drarry

Tags: friends to lovers, drunk sex, second chances, mutual pining, they were roommates

“I think we owe it to ourselves to do it again properly,” Draco says smartly.

✈️ Long Haul | E, 9k | Drarry

Tags: mile high club, pining, flirting, mild d/s elements, competent draco

“So you’d risk plummeting us all to our deaths just to get filled? You slut,” Draco whispers.

😈 Raising Hell | E, 21k | Drarry

Tags: colleagues to lovers, case fic, occult, UST, exhibitionism, ritual sex

Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “How do I put this delicately, Potter.” He shook his fringe from his face and sighed. “The initiation is sex. They want us to fuck. In front of all of them. It’s—what they do.”

-

Others

☕️ Come as You Are | E, 2k | Sirius/Ron

Tags: pwp, age gap (19/40), big dick Ron, blow jobs

Open up, he imagines Ron saying with that easy, casual dominance he exudes so beautifully, so he does, just in time for Ron’s mouth to meet his. 

🎶 In My Room | E, 21k | Dron

Tags: 8th year, angst and h/c, unhealthy coping mechanisms, no hea, first time

Draco rattles around in his brain for something to talk about, something beyond the immediate obvious—we are lying in bed together, we are spooning, you are shirtless, you are holding my hand, my chest feels like it’s on fire, my head is as light as air, do you feel it too? I will die if I get hard, I might die if you change your mind about me.

🚗 A Light That Never Goes Out | E, 6k | Sirry/Draco

Tags: Sirius returns, timey wimey, road trips, hotel room hookup, threesome

Sirius’s fingers twitch around his glass. The pleasure looming in the pit of his belly at seeing Harry so happy and turned on isn’t quite enough to stem the niggling sense of envy and outsiderness he feels. Harry and Draco’s careful pleasantries melt away into something more familiar, something they’re both clearly equally relieved to pick up after, apparently, a good few years of not being in one another’s orbit.

❅ Snowdrift | E, 9k | Dronarry

Tags: married dron, threesome, domesticity, drarry pining

“Is this what you wanted?” Ron asks, turning his attention back to Harry, daring to ask the question that’s been floating in the back of his mind since the moment Harry stepped through the front door; maybe since the moment Harry’s text landed in the group chat.

🚙 Spellbound & Acheron | E, 7k (total) | Dralbus

Tags: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, watersports, virginity kink, power imbalance, age gap

Albus hears the click of a seatbelt. His nose fills with the smell of cloves and cedar—Mr Malfoy’s cologne, his shampoo, the scent that clings to his clothes and that Albus thinks about, persistently, because it is the scent that he has come to enjoy the most. 

[basset-babe]

five times: the fourth.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: emotinal distress, tears, vulnerability

word count: 6.1k+

a/n: can't believe i'm writing this to a t. swift song lol let's just say miss y/n is in her lover girl era (as she always has been duh!) apologies for the loooong delay, here is the fourth! enjoy! ciao raga!

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last.

pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the fourth.

A gentle knock echoed at the door as Grandmama stood at the threshold of my study. "I shall be with you shortly, Your Grace. I merely need to finalize these accounts for our subjects," I replied softly my nose buried deep in papers, my voice perhaps subdued as I tallied the month's expenses.

"Y/N dear, I am merely here to check on your well-being," she remarked, gracefully lowering herself onto the velvet chair by my desk. The soft rustle of her gown accompanied the taps of her cane with her movement. "This laborious work should be left to our stewards. The task of accounting is their duty, after all. I have compensated them generously, for I can no longer endure the perplexity of these numbers," she continued waving her hand, and her tone a blend of authority and genteel exasperation. The flickering candles' light cast a warm glow across the room, highlighting the rich wood paneling and the intricate embroidery of her attire.

I chuckled softly at her remark and looked up from my work. "I understand, Grandmama. While we do employ capable estate managers, surely it is prudent to review our accounts ourselves from time to time," I responded, but gave her a quizzical look as she is dressed for the night. "But I see you are dressed quite elegantly. Is there an occasion I am unaware of? Am I amiss of something?"

Grandmama's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as she responded. "Ah, my dear, have you forgotten? The Bridgerton Masquerade Ball is tonight. I rather suspected you might need a reminder," she said, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she adjusted the folds of her gown. "It appears you have been quite forgetful of late, given how much you’ve been gallivanting about recently."

I scoffed as I placed my quill down. "Me? Gallivanting? Whatever gives you the idea that I have been gallivanting, Your Grace?"

"You may be the season's paragon, Y/N, but you are my blood, and I know you well," Grandmama replied, rising with a regal air, her cane tapping the wooden floor of the study with a soft but firm rhythm. "And you are under my roof. Best to remember that nothing escapes my notice in my own home."

I felt a flush of embarrassment rise to my cheeks. Her knowing gaze left me momentarily speechless as she stood to close the door.

"Dear, you may not consider me one to meddle or delve into the ton’s gossip sheet—Whistledone or whatever it is called, I do not pay mind—I am quite aware of the mention it made of you and your suitor, Mr. Bridgerton, on the past week." she said tinged with concern. She sat on the nearest couch and motioned I join her by sitting beside. "Amazingly, it has blown over. You know how the ton moves from one gossip to another but I couldn't not help but wonder how you are doing."

"Grandmama, how did you really know?" I moved towards her, the weight of last week's events pressing heavily upon me. Her calm demeanor offered a comforting invitation to discuss what I wished to forget but could not.

"Ah, Deborah told me. Our servants talk, you know."

"This is all part of the courting, isn't it? The season is not yet concluded, yet none of the other suitors compare to the connection I feel with Benedict, Grandmama." Some steamy connection by ivy tendrils we have then, I thought.

Her Grace regarded me with a gentle but concerned expression, her voice carrying the weight of years of experience and care. "My dear, courtship is a wondrous journey filled with emotions that can sweep one off their feet. Your connection with Benedict is undoubtedly special, and I can see the joy it brings you." She paused, a hint of sadness touching her eyes. "But remember, my darling, our world can be both beautiful and unforgiving. While love is a treasure, marriage brings not only joy but also stability and the assurance of a secure future."

Her hand gently rested on mine, a gesture of comfort and guidance. "The ton's expectations and the passing of time are relentless. I hope you find someone who cherishes you and our family's legacy as much as Benedict seems to do. Your happiness and our honor depend on it. Unfortunately, we both are all but women."

"Grandmama," I began, my voice almost amiss on what to say, "I know the importance of our family’s legacy, and I am grateful for your guidance. But I can't ignore the small voice within me that longs for something more than just duty."

"Benedict is… admirable, and perhaps he does see you for who you are," Grandmama says softly, her gaze piercing as ever. "But I wonder—can he truly grasp the dreams that live inside you, the ones that defy the walls society builds around us? Or would those dreams wither in a life governed solely by duty and honor?"

With that, she turns toward the door, her graceful movements echoing her own years of mastering the role she now urges me to consider. I watch her, words slipping from my grasp, feeling almost foolish as I stand there in silence. I know her intentions are good; she has always devoted herself to guiding me, preparing me to inherit our family legacy. After all, she is my Grandmama, a Viscountess—and a formidable one at that.

Pausing briefly at the doorway, she casts me one last knowing glance. "Well, then," she says, her voice light yet layered with meaning, "do make haste if you intend to be charmed by any particular prince at tonight’s ball. I daresay the heir to your heart might be waiting… if only you’re brave enough to seize him."

And with that, she sweeps out, leaving me alone with the delicate ache of her words—an ache that lingers as I consider just what I desire beyond the expectations of our world. Her departure stirs something restless within me, a longing that stretches beyond gilded halls and fine silk gowns, reaching for something I cannot quite name.

But I do know this: tonight, at the masquerade ball, I owe a certain prince charming at least one dance, or all the dances of the night.

The carriage rattled gently as it wound its way through the cobblestone streets, its lanterns casting flickering shadows on the elegant facades of London’s finest houses. I leaned back against the plush seat, my gloved hands clutching the sapphire-encrusted mask Grandmama had insisted I wear. Her words lingered in my mind, an intricate web of wisdom and caution.

Was she right? Could Benedict truly grasp the essence of my dreams, the ones that extended far beyond the season’s fleeting amusements and whispered promises?

The thought clung to me like ivy as the carriage slowed, its wheels crunching softly over the gravel of the Bridgerton estate. From the windows, I could see the golden glow spilling from the ballroom’s tall windows, accompanied by the faint strains of music.

“You’ve arrived, milady,” the footman announced as he opened the door. I smoothed the folds of my gown, its deep sapphire fabric shimmering like a calm sea under moonlight, and took his offered hand to step down.

The scene was dazzling, even from the courtyard. Carriages lined the drive, and figures adorned in silks and masks ascended the grand staircase in pairs and clusters. Laughter mingled with anticipation in the crisp night air, and my heartbeat quickened.

I adjusted my mask as I reached the top of the steps, the intricate design both concealing and amplifying my identity. Tonight, I could be someone else, if only for a moment. Someone bold, someone unencumbered by the weight of my family’s legacy.

The footman at the entrance nodded, his white-gloved hand pulling open the door to reveal a world of light and color. The ballroom was alive with movement, the guests spinning like constellations against a backdrop of gilded grandeur. Chandelier crystals glittered like stars, and the scent of roses and honeyed wine lingered in the air.

I stepped inside, my entrance drawing a few curious glances that quickly melted into polite nods. My late arrival had not gone unnoticed, but the anonymity of the masquerade granted me a somewhat reprieve.

Across the room, I spotted Grandmama near the far wall, her crimson gown a beacon amidst the swirling crowd. Her discerning gaze met mine for a brief moment, and though she did not approach, her slight nod spoke volumes. It was a moonlit night, and the crisp air of London's season hummed with anticipation. The Bridgerton estate had outdone itself, hosting a grand masquerade ball to celebrate the close of yet another bustling social season. The manor glared with golden light, spilling from tall windows, and masked guests moved like wraiths of silk and jewels across the polished floors. The air buzzed with murmurs and laughter, and the melodic strains of a string quartet.

As I descended the marble steps into the heart of the ballroom, a hush seemed to ripple through the crowd. It was subtle, a shift in the air that only those attuned to the nuances of the ton would notice. The Season’s Paragon, as they so often called me, had arrived.

I felt the weight of their gazes—curious, admiring, envious—all fixed upon me. The soft rustle of my gown against the polished floor was the only sound I registered amidst the symphony of murmurs and the faint strains of the orchestra. The sapphire hue of my dress, paired with the glittering mask, seemed to catch the light in just the right way, casting a glow that matched the chandeliers above.

Whispers followed me like shadows.

"Is that Lady Y/N?"

"She always knows how to make an entrance, doesn’t she?"

"Late, but worth the wait," another murmured, their voice tinged with awe.

I held my head high, my mask granting me the confidence to ignore the flutter of nerves in my chest. Tonight, I was not just the dutiful granddaughter or the heiress to a noble title—I was a mystery, a dream wrapped in silk and jewels.

At the base of the stairs, a figure stepped forward. His tall frame was unmistakable, his presence commanding despite the anonymity of his own mask. Benedict Bridgerton. His gaze locked onto mine, and I swore the air between us grew warmer, charged with an electricity neither of us could deny.

"Lady Y/N," he greeted, his voice a low timbre that sent a shiver down my spine. He bowed slightly, the movement elegant and deliberate. "Fashionably late, as always. You have the uncanny ability to steal the room’s attention, even when you try not to."

"And yet, Mr. Bridgerton, I find myself wondering if you waited just long enough to see it," I replied, a playful lilt to my tone.

His lips curved into a smile, one that reached his eyes. "You wound me, my lady. Would you deny me the pleasure of the first dance after such a dramatic entrance?"

The orchestra struck up a waltz, the perfect cue for his outstretched hand. I hesitated for only a moment before placing my gloved hand in his. His grip was firm yet gentle, and as he led me to the center of the floor, the crowd parted like waves for us, their murmurs fading into the background.

The music swelled, and we began to move. Benedict’s hand rested lightly at my waist, guiding me effortlessly through the steps. The world around us blurred, the other dancers mere apparitions as our movements synchronized in perfect harmony.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he said softly, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

"I’ve been busy," I replied, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"Busy," Benedict repeated, a bitter edge creeping into his tone, though his lips curved into a faint, rueful smile. "I suppose that’s one way to phrase it. But tell me, Lady Y/N, is it the kind of busy that fills your day… or the kind that keeps your heart at bay?"

His words hung in the air between us, the waltz carrying us effortlessly across the floor. His hand on my waist tightened just enough for me to notice, a silent plea he couldn’t quite mask.

"You presume too much," I replied, keeping my voice light and measured, though I refused to meet his gaze directly. The truth there—his yearning, his ache—was too much, and I dared not confront it here, under the eyes of the entire ton.

"You think me a fool," he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek as he leaned in closer under the guise of guiding our dance. "But I see it in your eyes, Lady Y/N. You feel it too. What we shared that night—after the party—it wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t nothing."

The memory of that night rushed back unbidden: the laughter and daring beneath ivy-covered arches, the sharp taste of wine and sweeter whispers in the shadows, his hand brushing mine in a way that left my skin alight with a thrill I hadn’t felt before—or since.

"And what would you have me do, Mr. Bridgerton?" I asked, my voice laced with feigned indifference. "Shout my secrets to the rafters? Proclaim to all that I—," I caught myself, pulling back from the edge of an admission I wasn’t ready to make. Instead, I tilted my head, my lips curving into a soft, disarming smile. "You misunderstand me, sir. Whatever you think you know of me… you do not."

He faltered for a beat, his step out of sync with the music, but quickly recovered. His jaw clenched, and I felt his frustration simmering beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

"You’re wrong," he said after a moment, his voice strained with an emotion I could not name. "I know you better than you think. Better, perhaps, than you know yourself."

The final strains of the waltz swelled, and with it, the tension between us reached its breaking point. As the applause of the crowd erupted, I curtsied, the movement graceful and deliberate, before he could press me further.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Bridgerton," I said, my tone polite but distant, an unspoken barrier erected between us.

"Lady Y/N, wait," he said, reaching out as if to stop me, his voice now raw and almost pleading. "There’s something I must ask you—something I’ve carried since that night…"

But I didn’t give him the chance. "Another time, perhaps," I interjected smoothly, retreating a step with a faint smile. "I find I am in need of some air."

Before he could protest, I turned on my heel and glided toward the terrace doors, the cool promise of the garden beckoning me away from his questions, his gaze, his unrelenting presence.

The night air was crisp against my skin as I stepped into the garden, the distant murmur of the ballroom fading into a hushed symphony of rustling leaves and the gentle trickle of a fountain. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my gloved hands gripping the stone balustrade as I gazed into the moonlit expanse.

The wisterias surrounded me like cascading waves of lavender, their delicate blooms swaying in the cool breeze. I sank onto the bench at the center of the hedge maze, my chest tightening with each unsteady breath. My gloves, damp from the heat of my frustration, slipped from my fingers onto the ground. I didn’t bother picking them up. Instead, I reached for my mask, undoing its clasp with trembling hands, and set it beside me as tears finally spilled over.

I tried to steady myself, inhaling deeply and exhaling shakily, but the ache inside me only seemed to grow stronger. My thoughts swirled, tangled like the vines above me. I couldn’t ignore the pull Benedict had on me any longer, no matter how hard I had tried. It was maddening. Every time I pushed him away, every time I told myself I could avoid him, the universe conspired to prove me wrong.

My heart felt like it might burst from my chest, the weight of it all pressing down on me. How could he stir something in me that I didn’t even understand? It wasn’t fair.

“Y/N.”

I froze, my name a soft plea carried on the night air.

I looked up, startled. Through blurry eyes, I saw him standing there, framed by the moonlight and the wisterias. His expression twisted something deep inside me—concern, longing, and something I couldn’t quite place.

Before I could gather my words, he was in front of me. He knelt down, his hands reaching for mine, but then he did something that undid me completely—he pulled me into his arms.

His warmth enveloped me, and the tears I had fought so hard to control came pouring out. My sobs shook me, muffled against his shoulder, and his arms only tightened around me as if to shield me from the world.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice gentle, yet filled with a quiet strength that seemed to wrap around me like a comforting embrace. “I’m here with you, and I won’t leave you, I promise.”

I clung to him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. For a moment, I allowed myself to rest in his embrace, to feel the steadiness of his heartbeat against mine. But the storm inside me refused to quiet.

I pulled back slightly, enough to look at him. “Could you truly grasp the essence of my dreams, Benedict?” My voice trembled as I spoke. “The ones that extend far beyond the season’s fleeting amusements and whispered promises?”

His brows furrowed, and he looked at me with a tenderness that made my breath hitch. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Let me understand.”

I hesitated, searching his face for any sign of ridicule or dismissal, but all I found was a quiet intensity. Taking a shuddering breath, I let the words spill out.

“I can’t live a life bound by society’s expectations,” I admitted. “I don’t want to be confined to the role of a dutiful wife, expected only to bear heirs and keep a perfect household. That can’t be all there is for me. I need more, Benedict. I want more. I want to be more.”

Tears welled in my eyes again, and I turned my head away, ashamed of the vulnerability I’d just laid bare. “I don’t know if you could ever understand that,” I whispered.

To my surprise, he gently cupped my face, his touch warm and steady as he turned me back to him. His thumb brushed away a tear, and he leaned closer, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sure, “I would never ask you to give up your dreams. Whatever it is you desire, whatever you want to become, I want to be the one who stands beside you, not the one who holds you back.”

I stared at him, his words sinking into the cracks of my guarded heart.

“You are so much more than what society expects,” he continued. “And if that means defying every rule to let the world see you for who you truly are, then I’ll defy them with you. Every step of the way.”

A soft sob escaped me, this one born of something other than despair. I reached up, my hand resting against his cheek, feeling the warmth of him under my touch. “Benedict…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“I mean it,” he said, leaning into my hand. “Whatever it takes. You’re not alone in this.”

His words hung in the air like a charged current, his eyes never leaving mine as I absorbed the weight of what he was offering. The moonlight bathed him in a soft glow, making him look almost ethereal—yet it was his sincerity that struck me with full force.

“Marry me,” Benedict’s voice was quiet but filled with an urgency that left me breathless. He cupped my face more firmly, his touch tender yet desperate, as if the words had been long buried in his heart, waiting for the right moment.

I blinked, unable to process what I had just heard. "Marry you?" My voice was a whisper, torn between disbelief and an ache I hadn’t known how to name until now.

He nodded, his expression unwavering. “Yes. Marry me, Y/N.”

I took a shaky breath, my chest tightening. "But... Benedict, you don't understand. I—"

He interrupted, his gaze deepening, searching mine for the truth behind my hesitation. "I do understand. More than you think. You are not just a duty, or a responsibility, or a future mother of heirs. You're more than that, and I will show you a life beyond the confines of this society. A life where we are not defined by titles or traditions but by the love we choose to share."

I looked at him, still stunned by his words, his declaration. How could he, the second son of the Bridgerton family, one of the most influential houses in London, be asking me to step away from all that? I was nothing more than a girl with dreams too vast for the world to contain. I couldn't fathom a future where I wasn't bound by duty—duty to my family, to society, to expectations.

“You—You’re not the perfect cut of the ton either,” I whispered, my voice trembling with confusion. “Why would you choose this life? To be tied to someone like me, someone who defies the very order of things?”

Benedict’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. “Because I’m not perfect,” he said, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “And neither are you, Y/N. But I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you, truly. Not because you fit some mold or role society has set for you. I love you for the woman you are—brave, passionate, and unapologetically yourself. More than duty, more than heirs, more than any expectation of this world.”

I stood frozen, my heart thundering in my chest. Could I believe him? Could I step into a world that was not constrained by the suffocating rules of society? A world where Benedict was willing to offer me his love—freely, unconditionally?

He reached out and gently took my hand in his, his thumb tracing over the delicate skin of my wrist as he looked into my eyes, unwavering. “Y/N, marry me. And let me show you a life where we are free to live as we choose. A life where you are more than just a dutiful wife. You are the woman I love. The woman I will fight for.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time, they were different. They weren’t born of fear or confusion, but of hope, of a possibility I had never dared to imagine. Could I really leave behind everything I had known, everything I had been taught to accept, and walk beside him into a future of our own making?

“Benedict…” I whispered again, my voice trembling with something deeper now—emotion, desire, and the pull of a future that seemed too perfect to be true.

His fingers gently cupped my chin, bringing me closer to him as his lips hovered just above mine. "Marry me, Y/N. I promise you, it will be a life beyond your wildest dreams. A life we build together, without the restrictions of duty, of society’s gaze. I will give you everything I have."

I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. Could I take this leap? Could I trust him with my dreams, with my heart?

For the first time in my life, I felt the weight of all the impossible choices fade, replaced by the pull of a love that felt like freedom.

“Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping from my lips like a prayer. “Yes, I will marry you.”

The moment the words left my mouth, he smiled, his face lighting up with a joy that mirrored my own. He leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was soft, yet full of promises too vast for words. In that kiss, I felt everything—the weight of the world lifting, the chains of expectation falling away, and the undeniable truth that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, free.

Benedict pulled away slightly, his smile softening as he looked down at me. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away the last of the tears that had slipped from my eyes, leaving a gentle warmth in its wake. I felt as if I had just woken from some long, foggy dream, but his presence anchored me firmly in reality.

“You know,” he said, his voice teasing but still filled with that underlying warmth, “as much as I would love to stay here with you, I’m afraid someone might notice we’ve been gone a little too long.”

I blinked, the seriousness of the moment dissipating like fog in the morning sun. “Oh, goodness. You’re right,” I replied, suddenly feeling aware of the late hour, the whispered chatter inside the ballroom that I knew must be continuing without us. A small laugh escaped my lips, light and almost a bit incredulous. “What would they think of us? Disappearing into the maze in the middle of the night?”

Benedict grinned, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and affection. “They’d think we were off having some forbidden tryst, of course.” He winked. “And I’m sure some of the older chaperones would have a lot to say about that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it carrying through the night air, easing away the tension that had lingered in my chest. The weight of everything—of dreams, of responsibilities—seemed lighter now, like a distant memory. Benedict had a way of grounding me, of bringing me back to the moment, and this was one of those rare moments when the chaos of the world outside felt far removed from us.

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to give anyone any ideas,” I said, my lips curving into a playful smile.

Benedict's eyes softened again, his hand brushing against mine. “Of course not,” he said with mock seriousness. “But, truly, before anyone thinks we’ve become completely lost in here, I think it’s time to rejoin the festivities.” He looked around, almost as though the garden itself was a labyrinth of endless possibility, and then returned his gaze to me, his voice low and full of affection. “Though, I’d much rather stay here with you. But duty calls, doesn’t it?”

“Always,” I replied with a mock sigh, suddenly feeling a little lighter. His easy way of handling everything, his ability to turn the most serious of moments into something that didn’t feel so heavy, was something I found myself increasingly drawn to.

He took my hand, guiding me gently to my feet. “Come now, before someone notices we’ve been gone for too long. Let’s slip back inside before anyone becomes too suspicious.”

I nodded, allowing him to pull me along as we made our way out of the maze, the soft scent of wisteria still lingering in the cool night air. As we neared the garden’s edge, the lights from the ballroom grew brighter, and the sounds of laughter and music filled the air once again.

We paused for a moment, standing just beyond the hedge, our hands still intertwined. Benedict turned to me, his smile warm and full of promise.

“You know, the moment we step back in there, I’ll have to return to being that dashing, perfect gentleman everyone expects me to be,” he said, his voice light and teasing. “But right now, in this moment, it’s just us. And that’s all that matters.”

I chuckled softly, squeezing his hand. “Let’s keep it our little secret, shall we? The world inside can wait.”

“Agreed,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, let’s go before your Grandmama sends someone to find you. I believe she has a particular fondness for making sure you never miss the next waltz.”

I laughed again, a full, genuine sound that felt like music in my own chest. “You know, I think you may be right,” I said. “Let’s not give her any reason to worry about her wayward granddaughter.”

Together, we emerged from the maze, our laughter still echoing softly through the night, as the path ahead opened up into the grand, glittering ballroom. For a moment, it felt as though the world had paused—just for us.

But as we entered the ballroom, the illusion of time caught up with us, and with a final, lingering glance, Benedict let go of my hand, the flickering lights and polished floors once again drawing us back into the well-practiced dance of the ton.

Yet, something had changed. A shift, subtle yet undeniable. For the first time in a long while, I felt as though the masks we wore were no longer just a way to hide our true selves, but perhaps the first step toward revealing something far more real, far more powerful than any of us had known before.

The ballroom was in full swing, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the guests as the music swelled and twirled, just like the dancers on the floor. The air was thick with conversation and laughter, the weight of the evening’s festivities almost palpable. My Grandmama was engaged in lively conversation with the Dowager Viscountess, Lady Violet Bridgerton, as we stood near the drinks table, offering polite nods and smiles to various acquaintances who came and went.

“Lady Y/N, my dear,” Grandmama’s voice broke through the chatter, drawing my attention. “The last dance of the season is fast approaching. You simply must accept a few more dances tonight to close out the evening, and, of course, the season.”

I stifled a sigh, but I knew better than to argue. It was tradition, after all. And though I wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of dancing with every eligible bachelor in the room, I knew it was expected. I gave Grandmama a reassuring smile, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, Grandmama,” I replied, my voice a touch too bright, as though I hadn’t just spent the evening contemplating everything that had transpired between me and Benedict in the hedge maze. “I’ll be sure to take part in the dances. It wouldn’t do to disappoint anyone, would it?”

She chuckled softly, her sharp gaze sweeping over the ballroom as if already measuring the gentlemen who would soon approach. “Good girl. You’re much too proper for your own good, but I do hope you’ll choose a dance partner wisely.” Her eyes flickered briefly over the room, as if weighing her options.

I, however, had already begun to scan my own dance card in my hand, taking it out and glancing at the names already written across the night’s list. As I scanned the page, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, my heart fluttering slightly at the sight.

Benedict. Benedict. Benedict. His name was written on every single line. My gaze lingered on the flowing script, feeling an odd sense of warmth bubble up in my chest. It was both absurd and endearing that he had taken the liberty of filling out my entire card. A few quiet chuckles escaped me as I lifted my gaze to meet his across the ballroom.

As if on cue, Benedict’s eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, the entire room seemed to fade away. The crowded dance floor, the lively chatter, the twinkling lights—all of it dissolved, leaving just the two of us locked in a gaze that spoke volumes without a single word being exchanged.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before nodding to me in acknowledgment. I could feel my pulse quicken, and for a moment, the absurdity of the situation—a card entirely filled with his name—seemed to wrap itself around me like a cocoon, softening the edges of everything else.

After a moment, Benedict began to make his way across the room, cutting through the sea of people with an easy confidence that somehow drew every eye. I couldn’t help but smile softly to myself as I watched him approach, his stride purposeful yet somehow still casual.

The ladies, including Grandmama and the Dowager Viscountess, watched him with a certain knowing air, no doubt having seen many a flirtation and polite request for a dance in their time. I could sense their amusement, though they said nothing aloud.

When Benedict reached us, he stopped just in front of me, his eyes flickering down to my dance card before meeting my gaze once more.

“I do believe I’ve taken the liberty of filling in every line of your card for the evening, my lady,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was rather hoping you might allow me the honor of the last dance of the night.”

I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile. “You seem to have been rather ambitious in your choices, Mr. Bridgerton,” I replied, my voice light, though I felt my heart flutter at the prospect of a final dance with him. “But I suppose it’s only fitting, isn’t it? You’ve already danced your way across my card without even asking.”

Benedict laughed softly, a rich sound that filled the space between us. “Well, I couldn’t very well leave it to chance, could I?” he said, his grin widening as he glanced at the amused looks of the other ladies in the group. “So, will you grant me the last dance of the night, Lady Y/N?”

My gaze flickered down to my card again, then back to him. There was no escaping it now, not that I wanted to. His presence, his warmth, had become an undeniable part of the evening, as though fate itself had decided we belonged in each other’s orbit for just a little longer.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, I gave in. “I suppose it’s already been decided,” I said with a teasing smile. “You may have the last dance, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His smile widened at my acceptance, and without missing a beat, he offered me his arm. “Then, it’s a promise.”

I accepted his arm, the weight of the evening and all its emotions fading away in that simple gesture. The music swelled again, the air light and filled with promise. The moment I had been dreading—the end of the season—suddenly didn’t seem so dreadful after all.

The last dance of the night arrived with a soft swell of music, the orchestra’s strings and woodwinds weaving a melody that seemed to capture the very spirit of the evening. Benedict’s hand found mine, steady and warm, as he led me onto the floor, the crowd parting just enough to allow us a space among the final few dancers.

The soft glow of the chandelier above bathed us in golden light, the flickering shadows from the flames reflecting in his eyes. Our steps were fluid, effortless, as though we had danced this same dance a hundred times before, though it was only the second time our bodies had moved together like this. Benedict’s hand rested at the small of my back, his touch gentle but certain, guiding me with a confidence that made me feel as though the world outside the ballroom no longer existed.

I could feel the subtle sway of his movements, the rhythm of his heart beating in time with mine. He didn’t speak, not yet, but there was a quiet understanding between us, a connection that seemed to transcend the formality of the dance and go deeper—into something more personal, more fragile, than anything I had ever known.

As we glided across the floor, I found my breath in rhythm with his, each step carrying me further into the moment, away from the expectations of society, away from the responsibilities of my family, away from the constraints I had long believed I must carry. The dance had become a metaphor for everything I had feared and hoped for—freedom and belonging, duty and desire, all wrapped into a single movement, a single step.

For the briefest moment, I forgot about the future, about the weight of family legacy and expectations. I forgot about the mask I had worn all evening, the one I had placed so carefully on my face. In his presence, there was no need for pretense. It was just him and me, two souls caught in the fleeting moment of something pure.

And yet, even as we danced, my heart fluttered with the memory of the words Benedict had spoken not long before, his proposal hanging between us like an unspoken vow. “Marry me,” he had said, his voice steady but full of emotion. And I, without hesitation, had said yes. It wasn’t a decision made out of duty, but out of something deeper, something undeniable that had been growing between us since that first secret meeting at the party. I knew then that I didn’t just want him—I needed him, just as he seemed to need me.

As the final notes of the music echoed through the room, Benedict pulled me closer, his arms strong and secure around me. We finished the dance with a slow, graceful spin, our eyes locking in a silent promise. The crowd clapped, but the applause felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered in that moment was the quiet between us, the shared understanding, the knowledge that the season had come to an end, but perhaps, this was only the beginning of something far more significant.

When the music stopped, Benedict didn’t immediately release me. Instead, he held me for just a moment longer, his face a mix of affection and determination.

"Until next time," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

I nodded, my heart racing, but my smile soft, certain. "Until next time."

As the crowd resumed its chatter and the last notes of the orchestra faded, we walked together off the dance floor, our steps in sync, neither of us yet ready to face what lay ahead—but knowing, with the smallest flicker of hope, that whatever the future held, we would meet it side by side.

And so, the evening closed, the final dance of the season over, but the possibilities of what came next lingering in the air like a soft, sweet promise.

taglist: @novausstuff // @pussyslayerhd // @amoosarte // @jupitervenusearthmars // @shonteriasunshine // @melsunshine // @bollzinurmouth // @kneelforloki // @reiluvr // @eddiiiieeee // @wishyoudaskme // @caspianobsessed

again, please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! thanks loves <3!

[kalinara]

(A+X #18)

This post is a rerun. If you scroll back twelve years on this tumblr, you're going to see these exact panels. But I was reminded of it when @rei-ismyname posted this review of X-Women.

So for some context, this is part of a series that plays with team ups of Avengers and X-Men characters post Avengers vs. X-Men.

Scott Summers and Steve Rogers was a natural team-up as they're both leader types who generally act with restraint and try to be idealists and sometimes fall short but never maliciously.

There's a natural source of tension too. Steve is a law-and-order type (except when he isn't.) And Scott, at this point in time, is a fugitive Mutant revolutionary who had (under Phoenix possession) killed Charles Xavier.

They actually do work together pretty well. But this is the ending of the story. Where you have both characters coming to blows because Steve wants Scott to submit to arrest and trial.

Presumably in the meantime, Scott is supposed to go back to that prison run by a human supremacist who put him in a shock collar, tortured him, tried to have other prisoners murder him, and got a comparatively innocent young civilian murdered instead.

And then he's supposed to have a jury of his "peers". And Scott has a good question about whether those peers are supposed to be mutants, or whether they'll be human - you know, the people who generally are completely fine with the existence of genocidal robots who attack mutants immediately.

After a conflict that came about because the Avengers (led by Steve) invaded Utopia's sovereign soil and demanded a child, then an Avenger (Tony Stark) split the Phoenix, causing five unprepared people to suddenly be forced to be Phoenix hosts.

And the whole need for the Phoenix came about because an Avenger (Wanda Maximoff) decimated the mutant race. I like Wanda, and acknowledge that since then she's more than made up for it. But at the time, the question was valid: where was HER trial by jury?

Okay, I reluctantly admit that Steve Rogers has his own flaws and blind spots. He could genuinely believe that Scott would get a fair trial and that justice would be served. He might think he can ensure an imprisonment that doesn't involve brutality. But since he doesn't SAY those things, he just looks like a cartoon here.

And that's not even getting into the callousness of the observers. Let's let them "have their moment", as though they're just fighting over whose turn it is to buy dinner, and not whether or not one of them should go back to be tortured in prison.

I actually mostly liked A vs. X (the X-Men parts anyway), and I loved most of the aftermath stuff. And I even loved the vast majority of this team up. But this wasn't a funny ending. Sorry.

...okay, the cowboy hat is pretty funny. I'll give them that.

[so-much-for-subtlety]

So, I've been reviewing all the timelines that are available around UHC CEO killing.

There's some conspiracy theories going around that he couldn't get from UWS to midtown on an ebike - with people putting in biking trip times for google maps shows 20-25 mins.

But if he went from hostel to Central Park entrance on 100th street, and then from 100th street to midtown that's 3.3 miles, and on an ebike that does 28 mph that's 7 minutes which exactly aligns with security footage timestamps (and I know from personal experience that this is possible going through Central Park because you don't have any stop lights - and at this time of morning no tourists either).

Assuming 28 mph ebike that also matches times for leaving the scene and going back up through central park etc (and gives him plenty of time to stop and drop backpack somewhere).

But there are still some things that I find odd:

why would he bike at 28mph to the scene potentially risk getting caught with a gun on person? why not just leave earlier and bike at legal speeds?

he seemed to be around the scene for 33 mins before deciding to go to Starbucks which was about a 24 min roundtrip - if he'd got there early to stake out and wait for CEO, why did he leave after 33 mins to take 24 mins out of stakeout time just to get coffee/water/granola bars?

on walk to Starbucks cameras show him existing 57th st station - it's totally plausible that he entered between 55th & 56th and exited between 56th & 57th (no swipe needed) but WHY? also MTA says they have had security cameras installed at all stations since 2021, so why no footage of him in the station? from whatever place he entered subway, he would have been able to see the Starbucks across the street.

15 mins before shooting, on walk back from Starbucks he's on camera with phone up to ear, and he gets to scene just 6 mins before CEO gets there. Did he get a tip from someone that CEO was leaving?

Here's a map I've drawn (black for walk from scene to Starbucks, red for walk from Starbucks back to scene & shooting, and green for leaving the scene after shooting) Anything with a timestamp is verified by camera footage. Points C & J are just my assumptions.

I think he probably had his bike locked up around point C:

and so the trip to Starbucks might have also been a chance to check that his bike was still there (by then it would have been locked up for over 30 mins).

But after already waiting at scene for 30 mins, why make quite a lengthly detour to Starbucks unless he'd received a message that CEO wouldn't be there for another 30 mins? And on the walk back to the scene from Starbucks, he also look a long route back. Maybe walking off nerves, but even so unless you knew the time the CEO would be at the scene you'd not take an unnecessary long route back right?

To me, leaving the scene after waiting ~30 mins, and then arriving back at the scene just 6 mins before CEO arrives all seems like he was in contact with someone who had info around CEOs movements.

The quick dip into the subway doesn't make sense. I think he knew the area well, and had chosen a place to lock up bike for a fast exit to central park. Maybe just a red herring but seems so strange (maybe he dropped something off? picked something up? met someone? if anything happened it happened fast because timestamps show he was from point B to point D in just a couple minutes and it's a 3 min walk).

[asukiess]

writing year in review ✍️

tagged by the spouses. 🫶

what a year it was for writing.

JANUARY

annotated (felinette)

Félix and Marinette share a quiet moment together in the shared space of Adrien's bedroom.

FEBRURARY

time marches back (loveyblanc)

“But you and me, I think we could have a lot of fun together!” it's the last thing she remembers before chat blanc hurls her against a wall.

MARCH

the secrets we keep (post s5 adrien character study)

In the wake of a summer that Adrien never wanted to end, all that he wishes to push away comes back to haunt him when the school years starts again: self-doubt from identities that feel no more real than anything else; ghosts of parents who still talk to him; and most all, a fear that the people he loves will leave him in time, too. however, maybe the person who can relate most to him is the one he's never far from.

JUNE

cordially yours, nathalie sancoeur (nathalie character study)

the letter is addressed formally in a way that suggests unfamiliarity, and nathalie appreciated this. it eased the irritation. an apology bookended by 'madame' and 'très cordialement'. or: nathalie receives an email from her parents and reflects.

I love this fic. I love this fic forever.

AUGUST

for the hope of it all (eminath)

"in five years, there’s a house on the water. adrien’s fumbling with the rope knot keeping our sailboat tied to the dock. you’re watching him from the sand.” a pause, and then: “alive, i might add.” or: nathalie tells her boss's wife just how she plans on stealing her away.

SEPTEMBER

the light that throws itself on everything (eminath)

the light that throws itself on everything, stretching twice, at dusk and again at dawn, agrees to stay, but only for a while.

this was a really exciting experience for me. I'm really, really happy with this, and happy for what it has done for me creatively.

NOVEMBER

as the wren sheds her feather (emilie & adrien)

Just as he had been born for her, she’d been born for this. Looking down at the creation of her own making, her own desperate wish manifested, she praised how well he lied. So human, he told with his pricked-purple skin and ten toes and ten fingers, his golden hair thickened with tissue and blood. So human, and yet there was a palpable thrumming in her wedding ring, a hummingbird’s heartbeat around her finger that now made her more than a wife—it made her a mother. So human. From viscera, with love. Just like any other. or: everyone comes to terms with adrien's arrival.

one of my favorite things I've ever written. this is it.

wips under the cut that fill in the missing months: emma dupain cheng horror fic, you should be happy series, as well as a whole lot of eminath, including one where they're teenage runaways.

APRIL

you look like...

here's a fun one. emma dupain cheng, notable theater kid, puts on her school's production of Hamlet. she begins to begins to think Emilie is the ghost. she begins to develop a kind of god complex. she begins to believe her girlfriend, Marcie, playing Ophelia, won't make it out of the play alive.

MAY help you clean (the blood off your paws)

part three of the you should be happy series. adrien contemplates snapping himself. it's a shame that felix is always looking out for him.

they fight for a while. ladybug shows up, adrien tries to punch felix, misses, accidentally punches her in the mouth.

JULY

circa 1995

I have 10k words for this fic. I was obsessed. I have a WHOLE outline. Emilie runs away from London, aged sixteen, and bumps into Nathalie, who picks up a summer job in Paris to leave an ex-girlfriend back in the French countryside.

it's about queer love. it's about summer romance. it's about losing a friend too quickly.

AUGUST

here, I also want to commemorate a gabrieminath wip I was working on in august, called no room in frame, if not just for this section:

OCTOBER

sacre coeur

nathalie nightmare fic. emilie is unwillingly turned into a deity who cannot die, so she causes a lot of trouble in nathalie's dreams.

DECEMBER

I've been working a bit on the sentiemilie au between the holiday rush. here are some wips:

[seidenapfel]

2024 in Review

In 2024, I posted 17 fics, ranging from 334 to 27,731 words. Although I feel I joined too many bangs this year, only six fics were bang collabs. Addionally, there were eight art collabs as well. I haven't counted the art pieces, though. However, it probably felt that much because there are nine collabs I'm currently working on for 2025. So, if you like my fics and art, please subscribe to me on AO3 for fics and art, and/or follow me on Tumblr.

Making a List, Checking it Twice (Rated: E | Word Count: 1,369)

Summary: Dean forgets a naughty list in the kitchen. There's only one person/angel who can have found it.

The year started smutty with my first fic for the 12 Days of Smutmas.

Heating Up a Snow Cave (Rated: E | Word Count: 2,907)

Summary: Caught in a blizzard, Cas and Dean have to find a way to warm each other up.

My second fic for the 12 Days of Smutmas.

You Ain't Him (Rated: T | Word Count: 840)

Summary: “Dean?” Dean winced. No. It couldn’t be. His entire body started to tingle as the gravel voice vibrated through him. A voice he thought he would never hear again. This wasn’t happening. He was gone. He was—

A little birthday fic for Dean Winchester.

Books, Pies, and Roommates (Rated: E | Word Count: 27,731)

Summary: Everything seemed easy when Castiel landed a job in Lawrence as a literature professor at KU. He even found a place to stay with his cousin in Topeka. But the daily commute quickly gets on his nerves and he begins looking for a room in town. When he finally lucks out on a house, it comes with a catch. His mysterious landlord/housemate works and lives in Topeka during the week, and will only be at home for the weekend while Castiel is back at his cousin’s to honor a promise he made. When Dean walks into his favorite pie shop, the new sales assistant takes his breath away. Steve is gorgeous, and part of the owner’s family. Dean doesn’t even mind that he picks up Gabriel’s stupid moniker for him. After all, Deano has one syllable more, and Dean will do anything to hear Steve’s voice just a little bit longer. Though, as breathtaking Steve might be, he isn't Angel. If only Dean's book-loving best friend weren't a mystery in himself — a guy who Dean has only met online, but who has slowly taken his heart away. And it seems that Dean isn't alone in his feelings. When the lines blur and fantasies merge three guys into one, disappointment and heartbreak seem to be inevitable.

Pinefest ( @deancaspinefest ) is always one of the highlights of the year and this year @kitshay claimed my fic and created some beautiful pieces. Besides, I had a great time writing this two-person love hexagon.

Maybe not yet, but eventually (Rated: T | Word Count: 1,032)

Summary: Screaming, Dean wakes from a nightmare, trapped inside his memories.

This is the first of several time stamps this year. This one was for my 2021 DCBB fic Maybe not a comedy (according to Jack), but he likes the happy ending that can be read as a standalone.

Setting Sail (Rated: T | Word Count: 334)

Summary: 1805: Nodding at Lieutenant Davies and Midshipman Alfie, and leaving command with Lieutenant Hester, Castiel walks towards his cabin when he sees him.

Another timestamp, this time for my 2022 Regency Big Bang fic Forty Shillings on the Drum. Written for the Tumblr May Trope Mayhem. Can be read as standalone.

Maybe not magnificent, but damn awesome (Rated: T | Word Count: 1,137)

Summary: Movie nights aboard the Impala have become something of a routine after they reunited Sam with his family on Terra. Once a week, Charlie picks some classic movie from back in the days, and their little found family comes together in the living room.

Timestamp number three, once again for my 2021 DCBB fic Maybe not a comedy (according to Jack), but he likes the happy ending. Another entry for the May Trop Mayhem. Should work as standalone.

Filling the Empty Space in My Heart (Rated: T | Word Count: 5,035)

Summary: After Cas let himself be taken by the Empty, Dean's life continues in a blur. Only Jack keeps him going, who has turned himself into an actual four-year-old boy after defeating Chuck and giving up the majority of his powers to stabilise Heaven. However, Dean knows he isn't good enough to raise a nephil. Jack needs his dad. And there might be one way to bring him back. Even if it leads Dean back to Hell, and beyond.

Inspired by an art piece for the DCRB 2024 where I ended up empty handed, and written for the Profound Bond Gift Exchange as a gift for @thecadenceimperfect. With art by me. I later wrote a smutty timestamp as well called:

A Place to Stay (Rated: E | Word Count: 3,157)

Summary: After getting back from the Empty, Dean’s entire body tingled, too edgy for his skin. He barely paid attention to the others and couldn’t stop fidgeting since he had returned to the library and joined them once again at the table. Cas’ presence was electric, pulling him into its orbit. Dean felt it in every fibre of his being as he slumped down on the chair next to him. Echoes of Grace pulsed through him, and for the first time since Cas pulled that stupid stunt and let himself be swallowed by the Empty, Dean felt alive.

TFW 2.0: Siren Adventures (Rated: E | Word Count: 4,727)

Summary: After Charlie and Sam's plan to save Cas and Dean goes sideways, Charlie doesn't give up. There must be another way. When she finds help in an unsual ally, the future is suddenly starting to look brighter.

My Crack in the Chassis catch ( @crack-in-the-chassis ) for @notreallyaroad 's fic TFW: Just Add Water. At first, I claimed for art, but due to the special kind of bang, we agreed for me to write an alternate ending / fix-it as well.

A Part of Me Shall Still Remain (Rated: T | Word Count: 6,918)

Summary: In 1805 Commander Castiel returns home after long years at sea. The Battle of Trafalgar has left him a broken man. For years, he shuns society and withdraws to his estate, until a scandal involving Sir Castiel’s disgraced cousin and a young noblewoman shakes the ballrooms of London and Bath. It introduces him to a doomed woman, who not only does approve of his deepest secrets, but who also does give birth to a child that will alter the commander’s life forever.

My fic for the Dadstiel Bang ( @dadstielminibang ) with stunning art by @twinone1221. This fic is set in the verse of my 2022 Regency Big Bang fic Forty Shillings on the Drum, but can be read as standalone. I had two other collabs for the Dadstiel Bang, both art.

Everlasting Fall (Rated: E | Word Count: 3,136)

Summary: Tendrils of Grace trickled from Dean’s fingers as his hand ghosted along Castiel’s flank. Gasping, Castiel shivered and Dean smiled. “You like that?” Stripped of their combined Grace for the night, Castiel gives himself over to Dean, ready to be taken apart.

Another timestamp because after demon and angel smut, I wanted to write some Grace kink. Set in my Calming the Weather verse.

That's Purrfect (Rated: T | Word Count: 1,262)

Summary: Castiel would do anything for him. He would level entire civilisations for Dean Winchester, or dress as a cat — it didn’t matter as long as Dean was happy.

Another Halloween fic to add to my annual tradition, and the only fic I managed to write for Suptober this year.

Highly Professional (Rated: E | Word Count: 25,565)

Summary: On his first day of college, Dean feels like a fish out of water. After years of working his ass off with several jobs at once to fund his brother’s studies, his family and friends have decided to pay him back. That’s how he finds himself panicking in the lecture hall. Thankfully, a fellow student distracts him. She promptly becomes a good friend, and Dean has no idea how badly he will need her. The moment he lays eyes on his physics professor, Dean is lost. Castiel Novak seems like the man of his dreams. And when the professor’s son appears from under the podium, several lives take an unsuspected turn.

My fic collab for the DCBB 2024 with wonderful art by @sasanka-27. I started this fic for the Dadstiel Bang, but changed it for the one I ended up with.

Your Own Personal Heaven (Rated: T | Word Count: 3,004)

Summary: After arriving in Heaven, Dean's nursing a beer in the crowded and snowed-in Roadhouse when the door opens and Cas enters. Crowding him, Dean makes out with him in front of everyone present, believing that he is stuck in his personal Heaven and none of it is real.

I haven't shared this Christmas fic on Tumblr before because I was too busy with bang collabs and the holidays. Inspired by a prompt by @macy2me.

It's a Stabby Life (Rated: T | Word Count: 4,370)

Summary: Dean Smith’s life as Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover seems perfect. If there weren’t the dreams, and his new colleague. When he runs into Castiel and accidentally stabs him with a knife in the cafeteria, the guy walks away as if nothing happened. Maybe it didn’t and Dean is simply overworked. But then it happens again, and again, and Dean’s perfect life slowly falls to pieces.

The first of two fics for @deancas-stabfest. @arlington-chamber-of-gay claimed it an created beautiful pieces for the stabs. I had never written Dean Smith before, so this was really fun.

Gonna Find Out Who's Naughty or Nice (Rated: T | Word Count: 8,859)

Summary: During a case involving an entire coven of witches, Dean tries on a Santa hat. Nothing seems wrong, until he can’t remove the hat. Jingles start following his every step while his body changes. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, until he can’t hide it any longer from Sam and Castiel: Dean is transforming into Santa, and there seems to be no way back.

My Stabfest collab number two is the last fic for this year. This time, I claimed a wonderful art piece by @masoenart. It was the second collab with @masoena this year after our collab for the Midam Bang during the summer where our roles were reversed. One reader called this fic Christmas horror. I just had a lot of fun writing it.

Art Collabs

(you find the links to the fics when you follow the links to the art, either on AO3 or Tumblr)

Destiel Pinefest 2024: Art for 'Given to Fly' by MittenWraith, colalb with @mittensmorgul [art on Tumblr]

Bottom Cas Big Bang 2023/2024: Art for 'Raising Kids, Finding Love, the Family Business' by Mydestielbabies_67, collab with @spnisthewayoflife [art on Tumblr]

Dadstiel Mini Bang 2024: Art for 'Make a Wish' by Avonlady, collab with @avonlady42 [art on Tumblr]

Art for 'Always Memorable' by golbygloom, collab with @golby-moon [art on Tumblr]

Crack in the Chassis 2024: Art for 'TFW: Just Add Water' by notreallyaroad, collab with @notreallyaroad [art on Tumblr]

Midam Bang 2024: Art for 'Breaking Light — A Future Earned' by Masoena, collab with @masoena [art on Tumblr]

DCBB 2024: Art for 'Marriage of Heaven, Hell & Humanity' by draechaeli, collab with @draechaeli [art on Tumblr]

Stabfest 2024: Art for 'Monsters and Men' by FriendofCarlotta, collab with @friendofcarlotta [art on Tumblr]

Over the summer, I also posted several sketches I drew in my sketchbook.

And I posted some photos taken at PurCon which ended up my most shared posts of the year.

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #218

1. Hi! I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. It was Aziraphale angst. I remember there was a line that went something like, "there is a monster in Aziraphale's chest" and Crowley eventually finds him in the bookshop having a breakdown over his sink dripping water?? I remember it was also part of a collection, so I believe there was a part two. Typing this out makes me realize how crazy this sounds LOL but I would really appreciate any help finding it! Thank you!!!! - anon

2. Hi there! You all are so amazing and helpful!! 🥰 I have a request to find a fic I read earlier in the year. It’s a human AU Crowley and Aziraphale are Priests. Crowley has been at this particular church(?) for awhile with aziraphale as his student. It comes to a head one night when Aziraphale asks Crowley to meet him in the rectory and Crowley gets dressed so quickly that he “forgets “to put on pants (as in underwear) under his Cassock. Shenanigans ensue. Lots of pining. Lots of. “I have to go!” “No! You can’t go!” I think it’s a one shot maybe two chapters. Thank you. And may the odds be ever in my favor :-) - @echo-kaine

3. I'm looking for a fic that starts with Aziraphale trying to make scones. Crowley is impatient and starts making a mess and it eventually turns into a smutty food fight. I've been looking for it for months now! - @sunflower-seed83

4. I’ve semi recently read a fic, which I’ve now lost despite a ton of searching. The specific scenes (may or may not be the whole fic) Crowley is kidnapped by Shax, Hastur and I think Dagon. Torture definitely includes Shax digging out his fangs, the Dagon gives him a choice between a needle or bamboo stick first or second. Aziraphale tracks him down (I’m pretty sure he asks two demons on guard at a door and promises them a favor in return for info). He gets to hell, starts methodically destroying all the demons that attack him. He restores a staff back to its heavenly status and continues on bamf style. Eventually defeats Dagon. Hastur was guarding Crowley, when he feels Aziraphale approaching. He warns Hastur to run so that Aziraphale doesn’t feel sad about yet more smiting after the fact. Aziraphale ends up just cursing Hastur with all the same injuries and rescues Crowley. Vaguely sure there is some healing parts once they get to safety. Thank you! It’s enough detail that I’m sure it wasn’t a dream but no amount of tag searching and reviewing everything I’ve bookmarked is turning it up. - @chicplusgeek

5. Hey wonderful lovely beautiful mods - I'm brain stuck on a through the ages fic I've misplaced. I believe it's a multi-chapter. E rated. There's a scene where I think... Merlin??!! makes unwelcome advances on Crowley and (s)he turns him into a tree. I think there might also be a chapter in which Aziraphale is studying some books in a library at a priory. Though multi chapter through the ages is my addiction and I inhale them so I may be getting two mixed up. Thank you for all that you do xxxxxxx - @ladybracknellssherry

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[enchantedbrew]

۞ Cafe Enchante ۞

۞ A Brief Summary of the Plot and Routes ۞

{I figured that since there probably aren't a lot of people who have played this game, I could make things easier by giving a brief overview of the contents of the game so my partners aren't having to come in blind. I'm going to cut for length, but I will be as concise as possible so you could just skip to the section you're looking for and read the tldr on that.}

{Please be aware there will be spoilers in this post! If you plan on playing the game and don't want to be spoiled, please do not read beyond the plot overview! There will also be triggers for dark and graphic content like violence and combat, as well as content like depression and trauma.}

۞ Table of Contents ۞

Main Plot Characters and Worlds Mysir's Route and Non-Route Rindo Rindo's Route Important Items and Mechanics

۞ Main Plot ۞

The main character (Kotone Awaki) inherits a beloved cafe called Enchante from her late grandfather, Souan Awaki. But upon going to check the status of the shop, Kotone discovers that within it is a door that acts as a gate to other worlds, and the only patrons of the shop are all beings beyond humanity. Things are further complicated when a government agent arrives to the scene as well. From there Kotone chooses to keep and run the cafe, and she accepts any responsibility that comes with it.

۞ Characters (And Their Worlds) ۞

Kotone Awaki - The MC, for the sake of this blog an NPC, but the main love interest for characters in the game. She hails from the human world, and after Souan's death, she runs the cafe Enchante.

Souan Awaki - Kotone's grandfather. He was brash and beloved by everyone associated with Enchante, but apparently not fond of adventure.

Misyr Rex - The "Demon Lord" from Asmodea, the Demon World... Except he's actually a former human warped by the wasteland he was stranded on, The World of End Times. He pretends to be a demon lord while he's in Enchante, and he has a playful, mischievous attitude. He's constantly butting heads with Rindo.

Canus Espada - The Fairy of Death, Dullahan, is a noble knight fairy with flames where his head should be. He's usually shy and straightforward, but he never hesitates to protect those he cares about. His world is the fairy world of Medio, run by its queen Titannia and her brother Vennia.

Ignis Carbunculus - A firewolf hailing from the beast world of Bestia, he's loud and rambunctious but hides his feelings. A tsundere type, he's awkward with his feelings, but he's the strongest beast of his world. In Bestia only the strongest survive in the merciless winter wasteland, but Ignis refuses to kill. He's often followed by his fan and adopted brother, Dromi.

Il Fado de Rie - A fallen angel that lives permanently in Enchante, he's mostly confused about how humans and society works, and he isn't trusted to do anything on his own simply because no one trusts him not to go overboard with his powers as an angel. His homeworld is the Heavenly World of Caelm, where angels aren't allowed to feel emotions. Growing emotions is how angels fall, and that's why Il is forced to live in the cafe.

Kaoru Rindo - Another from the human world, Rindo is a government agent that works for the Government Paranormalism Measures organization (aka the GPM). This organization studies, uncovers, and manages non-humans that make their way into the human world (usually via wormholes that only last for a short while).

۞ Misyr's Route and not Choosing Rindo ۞

I'm going to focus on Rindo since he's the only LI I portray, but since Misyr's route is the technical true ending, and since I use it as a basis for Rindo's "happy ending" verse, I'll be covering it, too.

Misyr's Route - Following Mysir's route reveals the truth about his not being a demon lord and the calamity that is the World of End Times, a world born from a human soul's lingering despair. Long story short, the world's spirit strips Kotone of her corporeal form, and Misyr jumps in to save her, a feat that takes all of the circumstances of previous routes coming together (which I won't cover here) to accomplish. After they are saved, the human world becomes aware of non-humans and a reformed GPM work to discover how to turn non-humans back into humans (since Kotone doesn't regain her body). This is basically the state I use for Rino's happy ending verse, where he works with Mikado to find the cure to non-human transformations and revert non-humans to their former human states. And thus saves not only Kotone but his sister as well.

Non-Route Rindo - Not only for the above but for any situation in which you don't select Rindo as your main route, he is a friendly and distant personality. His best friend is a overly-enthusiastic Akira Mikado, and his sister is Shizuku Rindo (who is also Mikado's girlfriend). Shizuku was promoted to a section of research that used torture and malpractice to experiment on humans and non-humans alike. When she threatened to expose these practices, she was added to the roster of subjects for experimentation, and he was turned into a non-human that then went on a rampage. Rindo spared her life, and Mikado gave her a medicine that kept her in a coma ever since. With this traumatic experience haunting him, Rindo is adverse to mixing human life with non-human life, and it causes him to avoid getting close to people as well. He doesn't even talk about his sister or the existence of her outside of conversations with Mikado.

۞ Rindo's Route ۞

If you select Rindo as your main route, you will learn the above information, and this becomes the main conflict of the story. Mikado is at one point promoted to the same branch of the GPM that Shizuku was, and there he discovers what really happened to her. Overcome with grief and rage, Mikado allows Shizuku to continue her rampage that she'd been cut short from so many years ago. Additionally, he discovers that with every life she takes, Shizuku regains a small fraction of her humanity. Unfortunately Rindo is caught in the crossfire and falls ill to her curse, for which there is no cure. As a last ditch effort, and regretful of the situation, Mikado gives Kotone a potion that turns him into a non-human. Rindo is forced to take on a form that he abhors, but as a result he becomes strong enough to stop Shizuku and Mikado's path of destruction. He kills his sister after a great battle, and Mikado allows himself to die by Shizuku's hand to avoid forcing Rindo to take him out, too. Once the situation calms down, Rindo leaves the GPM for good and dedicates himself to working in Enchante instead, prepared to live the rest of his life as a non-human.

۞ Important Items and Mechanics ۞

Enchante's Gate - The door through which the regulars come to Enchante. This gate connects to other worlds, and the door is usually hidden in those respective worlds where no one can see or perceive them. As a result, getting new customers is almost next to impossible, and those that are in Enchante only got there by accident. That being said, it isn't impossible that someone comes through.

Wormholes - Gates are the only permanent doorways from one world to the next, but wormholes exist to serve the same purpose as well. Wormholes are never stable, however, and they often close shortly after they're formed. GPM has one singular wormhole to Bestia that Mikado has managed to stabilize for an extended period of time, but this is an exception to the rule.

Non-human Types - GPM categorizes non-humans by types and will often refer to these types when encountering them. Type 1 Non-humans are non-hostile and can communicate. Type 2 Non-humans are non-hostile but cannot communicate. Type 3 Non-humans are hostile and cannot communicate. How GPM deals with non-humans greatly depends on how that individual falls into this categorization.

{So this isn't a ton of information, but I hope it gives you enough to work with going forward with writing with me. And of course if you have any other questions, feel free to come to me at any time and I'll answer them as soon as I can. Happy writing, folks!}

[wellnoe]

reading a book that is very interesting in its quantitative analysis but is so weird in its tone!! the place the author chooses to insert emotionality is bizarre and his treatment of mortality of the be all end all of suffering is equally so.

[bulbabutt]

no offence to people who genuinely enjoyed james somerton and feel cheated but you could kind of tell he didnt give a shit about anything he ever said. there was no passion or personable anecdotes in anything he ever made, and the fact he was constantly posting videos was crazy. like if you watch your more popular video essayists theyre always coming from a point of 1) education in a field 2) passion in a subject and 3) being open about themselves

like , this man hopped on the video essay train because of the popularity of his peers and just tokened himself into "the gay video essayist" as if so many other people werent already doing that? and the lack of care for intersectionality was obvious. i stopped ever watching him after he took it personally that some marvel show was about black exploitation in america and not about two men kissing each other, cuz it became abundantly clear that was the only experience he gave a shit about (his own)

[nonsensechemicals]

*thinks about cookie9 again* * LOUDLY FLAILING IN MY SEAT*

[lyssafreyguy]

God . . . imagine thinking Laios is a bad person who doesn't care about people. actual insanity.