#I am literally so happy I managed to finish this fic. I am so so proud of it. Finally I wrote some nice cheer up tickles

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

❄️Catch Me Before I Let Go❄️

A teaser of my coming 🎁 for the wonderful @ironheartwriter for the Tarlos Secret Santa gift exchange!

Dearest Lana - it’s me I’m your Santa in Secret (no more)!! I don’t regret to inform you of that, because it has been an absolute delight so far to think up something wintery and fun for you from the prompts you gave me! I do regret to inform you however, that I am running a bit behind😔

The Christmas Chaos simply caught up with me with unexpected intensity and I’ve had to ask the wonderful mods for an extension. I am doing my very best to be able to give you the fic in it’s finished form before New Year’s Eve!! To make up for it, and to hold you over until then, I have prepared this teaser for you including the above collage/mood board, and below a summary and a lil’ snippet to gift you on my posting day<3 I hope brings you both intrigue and enjoyment!

Best wishes for a happy holiday,

Your very own Secret (no more) Santa,

Mar💚🥰🤶

Summary:

As a former member of the school swim team and someone who generally likes to be in charge of whether his feet are moving or not, Carlos Reyes prefers water in its liquid form. As such, a ski resort should not be on his top ten spots to visit. He’s insistent to make an exception though, in order to treat his adventurous, snow-loving husband to some fun downtime before they embark together on the next big step for them, of parenting TK’s little brother, Jonah. He’s booked a cozy wooden lodge in the closest ski resort to Austin, and he’s going to be his most fun and adventurous self while also making sure that his husband is absolutely spoiled. There’s just a few things he hasn’t taken into account: 1) Carlos has never skied before in his life. 2) Carlos really hates doing things he isn’t already good at, especially if they include the risk of falling on your face and 3) One very annoying, and very hot, ski-instructor named Josh who is outrageously obvious in his flirting up a storm with TK.

-In which TK and Carlos go skiing for the holidays, Carlos grapples with the old notion of letting go of control, and has also convinced himself that he has something to make up for.

*****

On the third day Carlos is officially deemed ready to take on the real pistes. At least according to TK. And to.. Josh. Carlos knows it’s probably immature but he still has trouble accepting compliments from the ski-instructor without somehow taking it as the opposite.

Something about the chipper look on his face when he tells Carlos that he’s ‘doing super good’ or he’s a ‘really quick learner’ makes him feel five years old. Carlos might not know the first thing about skiing and yeah, they might have literally paid Josh for his advice and encouragement, but where does he get off telling Carlos what he is and isn’t ready for or that he just needs to try and ‘let go a little’? Ugh. It’s condescending. 

Yesterday Carlos finally managed to slide down the training hill without face planting or tackling any small children along the way, only to be met at the bottom with Josh giving him a way too enthusiastic thumbs up and saying ‘good job!’ Carlos’ own brain had unhelpfully applied the ‘buddy’ to the end of the sentence, making Carlos feel like he was a little kid who had just managed to actually kick the ball at soccer practice for the first time. Carlos had to muster up all his willpower to smile politely and grit out a genuine-sounding ‘thank you’. 

Josh seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on Carlos, and luckily so did TK - his happy smile and rosy cheeks and the hands that Carlos could just barely feel the pressure of as they gripped at his waist over thick layers while he kissed him with lips that felt cool and moist from the snow had quickly improved his mood and made him feel genuinely proud of his accomplishment. 

Despite this, Carlos feels a little less sure about whether he’s really ready for the real thing, especially now as they’re on top of the hill and looking down, the daunting stretch of it is looking longer and more steep than it had seemed from the foot of it. He’ll be fine, he tries to reassure himself. If nothing else, he believes in TK and TK believes in him. According to TK (and Josh but Carlos is trying to reach a state of cool indifference when it comes to him mainly by trying not to think about him too much) it’s good to try the real piste sooner rather than later, to experience the thrill of actually skiing so as to not risk growing tired and frustrated before you’ve even experienced the real fun of it.

Better to fall on your face a few times than to stay on the training piste the whole trip and go thinking you’ve had enough of skiing for good. Carlos is trying to be on board with that sentiment even though he really isn’t the type to normally throw himself into things without feeling like he’s at least prepared enough that the chances of success are somewhat high.

‘Learning by doing’ and ‘crack a few eggs along the way’ are not normally sentiments that resonate with him. He will be the type for those though, for TK. For his wonderful and adventurous boyfriend who has put up with Carlos being a sobbing mess half the time during the past few weeks, carrying the weight for both of them as they’ve embarked on the process of adopting his little brother, and with Carlos’ absent mindedness and late nights even longer. So at least for this week, he’ll be adventurous for TK while he does his best to treat him to everything he desires.

Besides, it’s not like they’re doing the biggest pistes just yet - the plateau they’re on constitutes the starting point to the smaller slopes and they’re doing the smallest one to start with. TK will be with him the whole way, probably bored as they slide slowly down the hill with Carlos pushing the front of the skis inwards to break the whole way. 

He’s already survived the trip up, gripping TK’s hand tight the whole way and trying his best to appreciate the view, mostly managing to appreciate the view of TK appreciating the view, as he found that looking down made him a little lightheaded and made his heart speed up in his chest uncomfortably. 

As Carlos refastens the buckles of his ski-boots (he’s already done it twice, once when they arrived at the pistes and put on their skis, and once right before getting on the ski-lift, images of his skis falling off on the way up and landing right on somebody’s head making him guilty of negligent manslaughter on account of not tightening his boots enough), Carlos ends his little pep talk by sternly telling himself to pull it together. He can do this. This is their second to last day on the trip, and TK deserves to have some fun too, instead of having to spend his whole trip in the training area with Carlos and all the children. 

Speaking of TK, Carlos rights himself and looks around for him. He didn’t want Josh to witness him neurotically double and triple check the buckles of his boots, not feeling sure that he would react nicely to Josh butting in to offer unsolicited advice or, God forbid, crouching down to help him tighten them. So he’d mustered up a confident smile and told himself and TK to go ahead and Carlos would find them.

 Now he’s kind of regretting that. Carlos might allegedly be ready to slide down the smallest of the ‘adult’ hills, but the thing is, he still hasn't completely mastered the whole ‘moving on purpose in a normal walking pace’-thing. He still feels like it’s the skis, not him, deciding when he’s standing still and when he’s moving (and if he’s honest, which direction he moves in). 

Spotting his husband and the ski instructor that Carlos is not currently sparing thoughts for, by the starting point of the slope they’re supposed to try first, Carlos starts slowly making his way there. Luckily they seem to be caught in conversation and Carlos hopes that it stays that way so he doesn’t have to be observed inelegantly and very slowly approaching them. Nothing more awkward than waving and then being stared down for five minutes while you’re sweating and fighting to get within talking distance.

Once Carlos is within hearing range, he picks up bits of their conversation. “Oh,” he hears Josh’s voice say, and Carlos swears he can hear, even from just that one word, that the ski instructor is flirting with his husband. “I don’t suppose they make calendars for those too..?” And at that Carlos has to stop walking to roll his eyes (he can’t do both at the same time). 

Not this again, he thinks angrily. He can’t believe he’s had to witness TK being the victim of this god-awful pickup line twice in the span of their less than five years long relationship and had to fend the guy off (leading to some spectacular sex the first time, but still). Can’t these idiots come up with something better?

Carlos picks up his pace, he needs to stop this conversation before it goes any further and show this Josh-guy, Mr. ‘I’m a hot and blonde ski instructor who probably never gets caught in my head and is a lot of fun’, who TK belongs to. Even if somewhere deep within himself Carlos is finding it hard to measure up at the moment.

Carlos is sweating and panting, his brows furrowed in concentration trying to make his legs move faster, his thighs protesting as he slides one in front of the other in quick succession, using his poles to try and make sure he’s actually causing a forward movement instead of just looking like he’s using the skiing machine at the gym. At one point he gives up and turns so his side is to Josh and TK, awkwardly lifting his skis to take broad steps sideways.

He’s already preparing what to say in his head. Maybe if he interrupts the exact same thing as last time, TK will find it funny and get that wonderful crinkly and shiny eyed laugh he reserves for Carlos’ jokes that always makes his chest feel two sizes bigger, and they can laugh about it later tonight and hopefully have a repeat of the spectacular sex it resulted in last time. 

Deciding he’s as close as he’s gonna get if he’s gonna make it in time before the conversation moves on, he turns towards them again. Trying to make it look deceivingly effortless as he closes the rest of the gap between them, he paints on his cockiest smile and shouts, loud enough to make sure they can hear him even though he’s barely within hearing range, “And his husband is a Texas R-“ 

Unfortunately he doesn’t get further than that because the thing that could absolutely not happen, happens. 

In his eagerness to interrupt the blatant flirting aimed at his husband, Carlos had accidentally turned his skis in the direction of the light downwards slope toward one of the bigger pistes, and, quickly losing forward momentum as soon as he didn’t give it his full attention, has now started to slide backwards. And this time he isn’t in the training area anymore and he won’t be caught by a fence. 

He sees TK’s eyes widen as his form gets smaller and smaller, and Carlos tries desperately to break, but he can barely break while going forwards, let alone when he’s going backwards, and he isn’t succeeding. In fact, he’s picking up speed, and a glance over his shoulder tells him he’s fast approaching the edge where the plateau changes to one of the steeper slopes.

In a last resort to prevent disaster Carlos lets himself fall ungracefully into the snow, but unfortunately, it’s too late. The concerned faces of people clad in ski suits of all colors swim in and out of his vision as he tumbles down the hill. The world spins dizzyingly around him like he’s the immobile center of a spinning snow globe depicting a ski-resort themed winter wonderland.

Through his dizziness, Carlos manages to send a prayer to the universe that he won’t bump into someone and cause some sort of mass casualty event, as he keeps tumbling for what feels like ages. At some point the tip of his left ski seems to catch on something causing a sharp pain to shoot through his ankle, making him cry out in pain.

The world spins a few more times and then he's landing on his back at what he assumes is the bottom of the slope. Squinting dazedly up at the clear blue sky he tries to catch his breath. Trying to move his leg which is bent at an odd ankle so he can sit up, he grimaces and lets out another cry as he’s reminded of twisting his ankle on the way down, the sharp pang settling to dull throb as he stops trying to move.

Turning only his head he sees the bright orange shape of TK in his ski suit zig-zagging down the hill at impressive speed. His hero, his wild heart, come to save him.

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.��

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he��s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[delusional-day-dreamer]

So High School Part¹- k.m

‣ kate martin x celebrity reader (inspired fully by @ellienator)

‣ wc: 1216

‣‣ synopsis: reader, who has been famous all her life (think mckenna grace or peyton elizabeth lee), reveals her celebrity crush in a Vanity Fair interview with close friend, Sabrina Carpenter.

‣‣‣ a/n: pre write: i'm so obsessed with the wcbb x celebrity trope, also sorry it’s so long but i wanted to use this fic to practice writing more dialogue! after: i started around one a.m. and somehow finished this at almost FOUR AM after writing non-stop... (IT WOULDN'T LET ME UPLOAD THIS, I TRIED LIKE TWENTY TIMES)

"I swear to god, you have to stop touching your hair y/n," my manager, Alyssa, looked up from her phone just to scold me for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

"I'm sorry but I literally cannot help it right now Lyss, you don't understand how nervous I am for this," I insisted to her. "I'm so stupid, out of all the men AND women in the entire celebrity pool world wide, why did I have to say that Kate freaking Martin was my celebrity crush," I whine, albeit childishly, while squirming in the leather seats of our limo.

Three Weeks Ago

"Hi my name is Y/N L/N, and today I am here with Vanity Fair with the one and only..." You introduced yourself to the camera before gesturing to the woman next to you, one of your closest childhood friends.

"Sabrina Carpenter! And today we are going to be testing out a little lie detector test," After growing up on Disney sets together and respectively journeying out of the acting industry into music, you and Sabrina had only grown closer over the years you had known each other.

As the proctor introduces how the interview will go, Sabrina volunteers you to be in the hot seat first, and with some small bickering, you relent.

"So let's start of small just to test it out you know, how old are you?" Sabrina asks you from the other end of the table.

"I actually just turned 23 years old," you respond calmly, happy that your friend was taking it slow. With the proctor's approval, the two of you move on with the questioning.

SMALL TIME SKIP

"What is your biggest ick in a relationship? Wait I think we've talked about this before right?" Sabrina animatedly asks, eager to hear you response.

"No yea we definitely have, but the thing is for me," you start, "I don't have a type, like at all. Man, woman, celebrity, athlete, a totally regular person, I don't really care. To me, if you're attractive then you're attractive right?" Sabrina nodded in agreement to your statement. "So it's not often I get icked out, however, my biggest and literal immediate turn-off is when they start being overwhelmingly jealousy or being possessive about me, even like just being overbearing about my every move is an immediate no for me. It's honestly why I've been single for a while now," You respond thoroughly.

It was no secret to your fans that you were bisexual, considering your last very public relationship was with a woman.

"That's honestly such a valid ick, like if you think you own me then please escort yourself out that's honestly so gross," Sabrina piggybacks off your answer. "But I'm dying to ask and there's no way you expected me to not ask you this question, but, you've been a single lady for quite some time now," Sabrina teases, wiggling her eyebrows repeatedly at you.

"Oh no, I know where you're going with this," You complain, already beginning to feel a flush rising in your face.

"Do you have your eyes on anybody right now? Specifically, do you currently have a celebrity crush?" Sabrina asks you with the widest, most smug shit-eating grin on her face as she watches the blush begin to form on your cheeks.

"Yes I do," you mumble, rolling your eyes at your friend in the process.

"Who is it?" She pushes, knowing that once she asked, you basically had no choice but to answer according to the interview rules.

"Dude that's so not fair I don't wanna tell the entire internet that," you protest weakly.

"Come on! It's not even that big of a deal, besides you're super hot, I'm sure she'll be flattered," Sabrina insisted to you while trying to hold back her grin.

"Sab!" You groan as her big mouth reveals the gender of your crush, automatically giving away part of their identity.

"Oh shoot sorry," She quickly apologizes, covering her mouth with the interview question card in her hand. "But like, you're gonna tell them who it is either way so I'm not sure it matters," She adds in slyly, reveling in the red flush that had now visibly engulfed the entirety of your face.

"Okay fine whatever, it's Kate Martin," you mumble under your breath looking down at your shoes, attempting to escape the embarrassment burning inside of you.

"No that's definitely cheating, you have to actually say her name," Sab giggled at the state you were in.

"Oh my gosh fine," you exclaimed while waving your face with a paper from the desk, trying to lessen the appearance of the blush on your face. "It's Kate Martin alright? She plays basketball at the University of Iowa, has just declared for the WNBA Draft, and she's incredibly attractive, so literally sue me." You end the mini rant with both hands in the air, embarrassed and mildly annoyed at the fact that your friend had coaxed you into admitting your crush.

Sabrina laughed in delight, smacking her hand excitedly on the table in front of you to in response to your confession.

"OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH, tell me you've seen the edits of her on tiktok because there's no way you don't have any favorited or saved on your phone," Sabrina wheezed through her bout of laughter.

"Obviously I've seen them but I haven't favorited any of them," you defended weakly.

"That's a lie," the proctor informed you two, which sent Sabrina into a second round of wheezing laughs.

"NO WAY, how many? Like a hundred? Two hundred? More than that?" She exclaimed, somehow managing to tease you while still being out of breath with laughter.

"Like two or three maybe, like at most," You lied, despite knowing that they would find out.

"Still lying," the proctor slightly smiled, only furthering Sabrina's howling laughter to the point she nearly fell out of her chair.

"My god, you could at least pretend to be a little less overjoyed at this," you grumbled, attempting and failing to hide the giggles beginning to spill out of you at the sound of your friend's infectious laughter. You eventually gave up on trying to pretend being annoyed and joined Sab with her maniacal laughing, unable to control yourselves for the next few minutes.

"I hope you realize I'm so getting you back for that," You teased Sabrina as the two of you switched seats to continue the second half of the interview, your questions and Sabrina's answers.

END OF FLASHBACK

"Y/n it's not even that big of a deal, you just said she was attractive, it's not like you professed your deep-profound love for her," Alyssa insisted.

"I practically admitted to favoriting tiktok edits of her Alyssa, I'm literally doomed," you sighed dramatically leaning your head to the cool glass of the limo window.

"Yea well," Alyssa began, texting on her phone once again, "You're just gonna have to put on your big girl pants and deal with it because we're almost there and they wanna interview you on the red carpet and right when you enter the theater, and it’s quite literally the WNBA Draft, so there's no way they're not gonna bring up Kate," she informed you.

"I'm actually gonna die," you declare.

Thanks for reading all the way through! I'll be coming out with part two very soon!!

[angelzarchive]

hi! I'm requesting again! I LOVED the spencer hcs! I am normal. you totally don't have to write this if you're not comfortable, but maybe something about spencer taking care of his s/o while she's menstruating? thank you. you're the coolest.

request: hi! I’m requesting again! I LOVED the spencer hcs! I am normal. you totally don’t have to write this if you’re not comfortable, but maybe something about spencer taking care of his s/o while she’s menstruating? thank you. you’re the coolest. / from the lovely @earspop! ahhh, thank you so much. you’re the sweetest :’) thank you for your requests, i’m genuinely having so much fun writing for spencer rn! and tmi, i was just on my period so imagining him looking after me menstruating totally works for me lol (no but fr, sooo so normal about this man 😳) <33

pairing: spencer agnew x afab! reader

warnings/ included content: reader gets their period (tw) but spencer is there to make it better. just fluffy content.

a/n: yayyy! another spencer fic, little bit of a short one this time. as always, if you see any errors or mistakes, please feel free to point them out. it’s not edited yet because i wanted to get it out quickly, so a little note if you see any would be greatly appreciated! if you have any requests you’d like to see, please leave them <3

there was nothing in this world that you hated more than getting your period.

you expected it, knew the reason you had been feeling shitty all week was because literal hell was creeping up on you.

at least now you had a reason to tell spencer as to why you had cried when he showed you a tiktok of two cats cuddling and said “us”.

but you weren’t happy at all, you never were around this time of the month.

what does help though, is having the sweetest boyfriend who is ready to drop everything to help you through it.

you were sure he was probably a little suspicious himself about when your period was next due.

luckily it fell on a friday, so you could just relax the first couple of days. which usually, you found were the most painful.

you had just finished showering when you heard spencer come home. you heard him leave his shoes and bags at the front door, slowly making his way through your apartment. “honey, you home?”

you called back weakly, letting him know you were in the bathroom. he knocked on the already open door, asking if it was okay for him to come in.

you agreed and his head appeared through the crack. his smile dropped slightly as he took in your red puffy eyes, which he could only assume was from you crying.

“is everything okay?” he asked as he quickly came closer to you, his arms reaching out to pull you into his chest.

you nodded glumly, “i got my period.”

“oh baby,” he cooed, his hand moving to stroke your wet hair. “not feeling too good?”

your shook your head.

“i think i know something that will cheer you up.” he pressed a kiss to your head, taking step back to look at you. “why don’t you get yourself comfortable then come meet me in the lounge?”

you nodded and he placed another kiss on your head.

he made his way to the door but stopped just before leaving, a cheeky smile on his face. “hey, at least we know your new birth control works.”

you knew he was trying to make light of the situation but you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your face towel towards him. which, was obviously unsuccessful as he managed to dodge it. you shook your head at him, a smile on your face nonetheless, and he blew a kiss in your direction before closing the door.

by the time you had gotten changed into something comfy and came to the lounge room, spencer had managed to set everything up. he knew before he left for work this morning that he wanted to do something nice for you and he couldn’t have planned a better day.

you froze upon seeing the lounge. there he was laid on the sofa, waiting patiently for you to finish with a comforting smile.

your favourite food and snacks were laid out on the coffee table and the tv was ready to play your favourite movie.

god, this man was a dream.

“come here, baby.” he patted in between his legs, ushering you over. you couldn’t have moved faster. you laid in between his legs, your back pressed against his chest.

“spence, this is so sweet.” you pouted, looking up at him as he pressed play on your movie.

he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his arms wrapping around you in a hug. “anything for m’lady.”

his hands made their way to your stomach, massaging gently. “now relax and let me take care of you.”

and he definitely refuses to let you lift a muscle for the rest of the night. which is no problem for him, he loves to look after you.

[stormyelliotwritez]

ok ik youre not taking requests rn (btw hope u have a good time during ur break) but whenever you can itd be much appreciated if you could continue the ftmxlogan fic (the one where the reader thinks hes straight but hes not) i love your work. You may further it however you like, but i personally am looking for like a supportive logan who tries understanding your identity.

Ty :3

HIIIIIIIIII IM BACK and yeah, i had a good break and now im here to make ya happy with supportive logan!!! SILLY BOY TIME!

HE’S NOT STRAIGHT?

(pt 2 of but he’s straight)

He dragged you along to the teacher’s lounge and then promptly pushed you into a seat. Without saying absolutely anything, he grabbed two beers from the fridge and then sat down next to you.

“Here ya go, bub,” he said as he held one out to you.

You took it and relaxed into the chair. He watched you for a moment before opening his beer with one claw. Damn, that’s hot. He obviously noticed your staring and slight blush and so he held his hand out, one claw still out.

“Want me to open yours?”

You nodded slowly. Damnit, why’d your words stop working? Why now? You’re literally sitting in the teachers lounge with the most hottest man ever who you’ve had a crush on for years and now your words aren’t working? Talk about bad timing!

He smirked and with that one claw, he popped the lid off your beer. He did it slowly and absolutely knew what he was doing to you. He wasn’t stupid, after all.

“So you have a crush on me, huh?” He asked with a s smirk.

You nodded again, trying to coax the words out of your mouth.

“Have for a while. Sorry,” you said quietly.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” He said before leaning forwards and taking a swig from his bottle.

He stared into your eyes before blinking and leaning back again. He was thinking. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t figure out how to. How do you explain that you thought he would never like you?

“Well because I’m me and I’m not- I’m not like you. I’m different,” you managed to mumble.

One of his eyebrows raised and he stared at you. It was like he could see into your soul. He couldn’t but it sure felt like it.

“Because you weren’t born a boy, right? Is that what you’re getting at, bub?”

His voice was quiet and thoughtful. It sounded like he understood. Could he understand? You’d always thought no one would understand you.

Eventually, you nodded and glanced away from him.

With a finger, he moved your face back to look at him and tutted at you.

“Don’t look away from me, okay? I ain’t gonna think of you different so how about you explain it to me, the old geezer, yeah?”

You nodded and slowly you smiled. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe he could understand.

“Um, so I was born… a girl, ew, but when I started growing up, I realized I didn’t like that that much and eventually I figured out that I was a boy so I was trans,” you said slowly, trying to make sense.

He nodded along and rested his hand on your knee, squeezing it every so often. He took a swig of his beer as he listened intently.

“And when I ended up here as an adult, I was able to get on T and so now I look more like a man and I’m happier,” you finished.

You drunk some more of your beer and he smiled. He squeezed your knee again.

“Well you’re a hot man, thats for sure,” he chuckled.

You started blushing and chuckled before taking another sip. That wasn’t what you’d been expecting but it made you happy. He made you happy.

You two sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company, until Logan cleared his throat.

“I want to understand you more, bub. I wanna be there for you, okay? Can I do that for you?”

This sounded like maybe he was reciprocating your crush but maybe not. That was probably too hopeful.

You nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that, Log.”

He smiled as well and leaned in slightly. “And I’d like to maybe take ya out sometime as well.”

Okay, there it was. He reciprocated and you had to try so hard to not jump up and scream from excitement.

“Yeah, I’d really like that, Logan,” you said with a soft smile.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

i would love to have a poly!plastics fic where reader has chronic pain and wakes one day to a bad flare up of joint pain They/he won't show to class and the girls worry so they ditch class(they walk out mid class) to o find reader who is at home, under blankets and groaning in pain at every movement. each of the girls helps in a way, from massages, to kisses, to having reader's favorite movie ready to be watched!!!! llove ur suff

Cuddles, Praise & Movies! Oh My!

|| poly!plastics x he/they!reader

(I myself am poly)

|| Warnings; injured reader, chronic pain mentions and descriptions, swearing

|| Summary; poly!plastics x they/he reader; reader's got chronic pain and doesn't show up for class, girls notice and come and comfort them.

Requests open!

Started; September 10th

Finished; September 12th

~~

There’s a saying about how everyone is fighting internal demons. Your demons? Chronic pain. An absolute bitch in your life. It has prevented you from being able to do a hell of a lot. For those who live a chronic pain free life and don’t know what it is, feel blessed. Chronic pain is a pain that can happen anywhere on your body and it’s on going. Usually it will last for more than six months at a time. Even if the original cause of the injury is gone, the pain can be left behind. It’s essentially a pain that never fully leaves you. Some days are more manageable; while others it’s hard to even get out of bed.

You were experiencing one of those days. It was more in your upper body where you felt it, from your back to your arms; and because it reached your arms you were in so much pain that you didn’t even bother reaching for your phone. You had wanted to text your girlfriends, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move further than the next pillow.

So you also didn’t go to school that day. The school was well aware of how bad your chronic pain could get, and on the days you couldn’t make it you would usually borrow notes from either Gretchen or Cady. If you didn’t have a class with Gretchen, which was really only a single class, then you had Cady to help you out. Karen and Regina were in some of your classes as well, but they weren’t exactly the most reliable note takers. One time you made the mistake of asking Regina to do it and the note she gave you at the end of the day wasn’t exactly PG. And Karen… well, she actually (literally speaking) took someone else's notes. Since that’s what she’d thought you meant. She tried, you appreciated it. Gretchen and Cady were the only ones who actually did it for you.

Meanwhile, your girls were all in the one class the four of you usually shared together. By now it was fourth period, lunch had passed with no word from you or sighting of you in the halls. Gretchen had even asked around just to double check, but everyone told her they hadn't seen you today. The three were starting to worry as they shared a quiet conversation amongst themselves at the back of the class. Away from Mr Rapp's earshot.

"He's probably at home. No one's seen them today." Gretchen whispered, looking between Karen and Regina. Mostly Karen. Who seemed to be trying to fan herself with her pencil. Gretchen sighed," Baby, no. Get a scrap paper and make a fan, here hang on. Like this." She then proceeded to show Karen how to make a foldable paper fan, which Karen watched with intense interest. Regina just rolled her eyes.

"Come on, we're leaving." Regina stood, the other two shared a confused look and Gretchen grabbed her things without question. She had a pretty good idea what Regina was talking about and was more than happy to skip classes for you.

Karen, on the other hand, was confused as she stood and followed along through the desk rows; "Where are we going?"

"Yes, I would like to know that too." Mr. Rapp raised as eyebrow as the plastics headed for the door.

Gretchen glanced back at him to say something, but Regina grabbed her wrist and pulled her along

"Ignore him." The blonde demanded, a look of fierce determination on her face.

Mr. Rapp tried to ask them more questions, but the girls listened to Regina and ignored him completely.

Regina lead them to her jeep, digging around for her keys. Pulling them out, she unlocked her jeep and got in.

"Hurry up!" Regina honked at them.

Gretchen sighed, understanding Regina was just frustrated and worried about you. All three of them were. So she just listened, not wanting to cause her anymore stress as she took Karen's hand and gave a gentle pull. "Let's go, mama."

The two got in the back, keeping their hands together and fingers interlocked.

In no time at all (Regina may have been speeding just a little bit) they arrived at your place and pulled in the driveway.

Regina lead three into your house, not bothering to knock since they've been there countless times before. Besides, your parents weren't home because they had work and if you were in a chronic pain state like they assumed... you wouldn't be able to answer the door anyway.

They walked up the familiar stairs and into the hall with your room, Gretchen ran ahead at a light jog; throwing your door open. Her eyes immediately found your form, laying in a ball curled up in bed. She frowned and joined you, gently pulling you into her arms so your back pressed against her chest. "I've got you, baby boy." She murmured against your neck, right below your ear lobe. You shivered as you felt the vibrations from her words against you and instinctively leaned into her. Making a small sound.

"A message would have been nice." Regina's voice came from the other side of the bed. You felt it lower, then felt her arms wrap around you as she joined the cuddles.

"Sorry. Couldn't." You explained in a mumble, albeit a poor explanation. Regina sighed and you felt her nails scratch along your back in a soothing motion. It was one of your favourite feelings.

That's when you noticed Karen hadn't joined you yet. You then glanced up from where your head had been buried in Gretchen's shoulder; scanning your room for her.

Karen was over by your desk, getting your laptop started up with a small smile on your face. You thought it was adorable.

"Karen?" You murmured, getting her attention. She immediately looked at you.

"Y/N?"

"What're you doing?"

"Getting a movie ready!" Her small smile became a grin as she pulled out some cd cases, flipping through them. You noticed that each one was one of your comfort movies and your heart melted just a little bit. The gesture was appreciated.

You picked the third one she mentioned, which happened to be Narnia; the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. One of your childhood favourites. She put it into the laptop disk holder then picked up the laptop and joined the three of you in bed, curling up with Gretchen.

You gave a soft smile as she set the laptop in Gretchen's lap so it was closer to you. She didn't want to put it in your lap because she wasn't sure how much pain you were in; and she didn't want to risk adding to it.

As the movie played, you felt Regina get up and turned to look at her with a pout.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Relax." She told you before leaving, Gretchen rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder, giving your cheek a kiss.

You huffed a little and went back to watching the movie with your girls.

It was just about the scene where Lucy enters the wardrobe for the first time when Regina returned. Holding a tray of snacks.

"I thought you went to the bathroom?" Gretchen questioned.

Karen gasped," Did you find them in the bathtub?! Sometimes that happens to me."

Gretchen gave her a look of confusion and concern but didn't say anything. Figuring it wasn't a big deal.

Regina narrowed her eyes at Karen," No. I lied. Surprise." She muttered, holding the tray out to you. You could just tell she was at least a bit embarrassed by what she did.

You took a closer look at the tray and noticed a lot of the things there were snacks with clearly you in mind. She had all your favourites. There was some stuff for Gretchen and Karen, as well as herself too but mainly it was a tray made for you. She set it down in front of you when you didn't grab it and curled back in next to you.

"Thank you." You whispered to her, and if you weren't mistaken... you saw Regina George blush.

"Whatever." She muttered.

The three of you sat and watched the movie, enjoying your snacks; about half way through Gretchen offered to give you a massage. Asking where it hurt. You pointed it out to her and she happily helped you out, wondering if she was doing okay as her hands worked on the spot. You nodded, looking rather relieved as you began to relax.

She worked your muscles so well that you eventually fell asleep.

Last thing you remember feeling was Regina's kisses on your neck, Gretchen's hands on your shoulders and the voice of the White Witch yelling something in the movie.

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

[idyllic-affections]

if i am the wind, fleeting and transient, you are the steady and constant earth upon which i stand.

summary. kaedehara kazuha's older sibling is a geo-aligned mirror of himself.

trigger & content warnings. references to tomo's death and mentions of sensory overload.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, hurt/comfort. kazuha & older sibling!reader, slight beidou x reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. reader has a geo vision.

author's thoughts. this was an old draft that i decided to finish bc tbh? kazuha >>> lately i'm finishing and posting old drafts? i think it's because i'm realizing that they aren't even half as bad as i originally thought.

imagine being kazuha's geo bearing older sibling.

kaedehara kazuha is, for the most part, a gentle gale. fleeting, transient, evanescent.

kaedehara [name] is his polar opposite—they are the firm earth. lasting, enduring, permanent.

they were easily one of the raiden shogun's most vocal opposers during the vision hunt decree. how dare she treat her people with such lack of care? the people she should have loved? the people that she had once promised a dream to? where was all that love when she decided to cruelly rip her citizens' visions from them in spite of all the terrible effects such force had? where was all that love?

(even after the decree gets repealed, they would still be a little bitter. they're expected to forgive her, just like that? no. their forgiveness is a thing to be earned; hell, they may simply choose to never forgive her, and after all the pain she caused them and their brother? it would be justified. they do not care if she is an archon.)

"eternity is not complacency in a stasis-like state," they once told kazuha, "but rather, it is the endurance of a legacy for centuries to come. that is eternity."

they stayed back in inazuma, holding off the shogunate while kazuha ran away after tomo's death.

he cried when he had to part from them, but at their command, he ultimately did obey. as much as it hurt him to abandon them, not knowing if they'd somehow manage to escape on their own, he knew they would hate it if he refused to leave. so he did.

thankfully, the resistance took them in. they stayed with kokomi and gorou the majority of the time, helping them push back against the electro archon's tyranny.

kazuha definitely adores his older sibling!! he will literally never say a single bad thing about them to anyone. never. no slander will come from his lips.

when beidou first got to meet them, she was absolutely overjoyed; she can see where kazuha gets his attitude from! they also thanked her profusely for taking such good care of him when they could not. the two got on very well! kazuha was so happy to see some of his favorite people getting along <3

beidou loves them. genuinely.

she always encourages them to come on the alcor. there is always a place for them with her crew! sometimes they do take her up on her offer and they travel teyvat for a while. once their family affairs are settled, they'll start traveling full-time, occassionally returning to inazuma to visit their friends.

she also gets so excited when she knows they'll be on board—beidou likes exchanging stories with them and just... talking. she loves that.

someone had to teach kazuha how to play music on leaves, you know. it was definitely [name].

kazu and his sibling would compliment one another really well in battle. they'd be able to predict one another's next moves based on muscle twitches, changes in stance... it's like they can read each other's minds! they can't. they just know one another inside and out.

sometimes they'll cup their hands over his ears to protect him in situations where he cannot avoid a storm or similar thing that might hurt his ears. this gesture is greatly appreciated. kazuha does what he can to reciprocate that—if they're overwhelmed or overstimulated? his first priority is to get them somewhere calmer. they protect him in his moments of sensitivity, so it's only fair for him to do the same.

i like to think kazuha and his sibling sit and admire scenery together. maybe they point out shapes in the clouds. maybe they take note of interesting sounds they hear in the bushes. however the two spend their time admiring the world, it is always an enjoyable time.

i also think the two would play in the rain, as long as it isn't too heavy <3 dancing in the rain together, taking walks in the rain together... it'a comforting.

sometimes kazuha will lay his head on their lap as if he were some kind of cat, and he'll just fall asleep. a mid-afternoon nap on his older sibling.

on top of all of that, kazuha speaks his mind to his sibling, and he hopes they'll do the same. he wants them to always be honest about what they're thinking and how they're feeling.

he knows that, as the eldest, they may have had to carry heavy burdens all throughout his childhood, while he got the privilege of existing without a care in the world.

the heavy burdens will be no more.

he is old enough to help shoulder the weight, and help shoulder the weight he will.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[flymetosnarryland]

A little progress.

I'm working on "Infraction." My precious baby, uh. This art is part of it in a way. Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape. When people are falling in love everything seems easy, but then life happen.

(I'd like to talk about how things are going with Infraction.)

I'm back on it since couple of weeks and working on it is intense (my brain is literally boiling). I don't think I ever planned a story for that long. The first idea has born 6th January this year. I was writing down (like crazy) everything I wanted to be in this fic. During first months it was chaotic and messy, but brought me so much joy. When I've had everything that (I thought) I needed, I wrote first chapters, yeah. And then shared them, because was so excited about all of it and just couldn't wait. Gosh.

Now I... hm... well, maybe not "regret" it, but I think, I totally should have wait. Why is that? First thing first, this story is not ready yet for being written in, you know, final version. It's too fat, lol.

I may want too much from it. There is a lot, like, seriously, A LOT of things to cover. First notes took me around 80 pages and it had many gaps in it (too much if you ask me). Things I needed to figure out and fill in, in the same time making everything work together. Because this Snarry is not sprinkled with crime. It's filled with murder, political shenanigans, family shiteshow and tough, not always appropriate, love. There are secrets and lies, blackmails and history that matter. Backstory of many people, whose actions over the years supposed to bring us to the point where we are now. And, you know, all of it gives me the thrill. First time in my life I feel like a true Puppet Master.

So, couple weeks ago I started to write a proper outline, if I can call it like that. To put everything in order and, going from the very beginning, to fill all the gaps. To answer all the questions I was asking myself in notes. To figure out the missing clues, some details without I couldn't go further and with that - to find out how characters will change facing new situations. How they will grow (I really love this part). Sometimes I think, "why am I even doing it?" I could just write some cosy, little fic where Harry and Severus' silly problems would be the main goal of the story. Like, focusing on them should be enough, right? Why am I going for all the other things, if I just want them to shag and have their happy end after all? 😂

Well, if it's not for fun, I don't know the other reason. The level of excitement is just incredible. I don't know, if what I'm writing is good or bad. If it really has sense, because I've always seen myself rather as a potato, not as a great mastermind who can plot some good shite, you know. That said, "Infraction" feels even more challenging that I ever thought it will be. But I feel deep inside that I can do it. Going step by step where the main plan leads and... it just feels good.

I've started in October 1989. Now I'm in January 2011. It means that I managed to finish everything that happen before the fic starts, lol. And, actually, I almost covered the first part of the book. So, two more to go? Hehe. It'll take time, yes. It's crazy how much I want to continue writing the main chapters, not only swim in the plan-phase. Drawing the series of "Muggle London" art helped me a lot with easing this itch. However, it's still there. I know, though, that I have to finish it. The whole outline, I mean. Without it, things can go south.

That said, I can't tell how long it will take. Couple weeks? Maybe months. This is really... a lot of work and I want to be proud of it. Even more so, because this fic means a lot to me. I know it may not be, you know, mind blowing or something. But I hope that giving it all my love, it could be, you know, not that bad for reading, hehe.

[lulu24784]

🖸 ──» south park tattoo artist au headcanons :

main 4 + butters headcanons for an upcoming fic

stan 🖸 specializes in: blackwork tattoos 🖸 hates sitting for too long 🖸 frequent smoke breaks 🖸 needs to be listening to his music when tattooing 🖸 refuses to do any color 🖸 definitely acts like a rockstar and thinks he'd kick ass at inkmaster 🖸 not always the nicest when he's frustrated; like if his client isn't sitting still. he will definitely tell them they need to or he'll stop and won't finish the session that day 🖸 rotary machine usually 🖸 his station is sleek; black and grey themed. almost empty looking, he doesn't have much hanging up. feels very medical

portfolio: preferences to skulls, abstract, blackout sleeves

kyle 🖸 specializes in: neo traditional 🖸 asks if you're okay every 5 minutes 🖸 "do you need more pillows? water? sugar??" 🖸 "if you need me to stop for any reason at all, don't hesitate to let me know, okay?" 🖸 other than that, he doesn't talk too much during the session. he's too focused 🖸 very detail oriented 🖸 wireless rotary machine all the way 🖸 stencils you like 2-3 times; "hmm i dunno the placement is weird?" "dude i said i liked it, it's fine. am i paying your hourly for this??" 🖸 walks you through literally every step of the tattoo process. goes to wipe with soap: "okay, so this is gonna be cold okay?" 🖸 he just wants you to be happy in the end 🖸 his station is a bit cluttered, but it's organized clutter. artwork hung up in matching regal frames and plants on his storage shelves and in hanging baskets.

portfolio: preferences to lady faces, botanicals, animals

kenny 🖸 specializes in: neo traditional + but is an all-rounder can literally do anything 🖸 studio owner 🖸 always smokes weed before a session 🖸 pretty chill; he's a laid back boss. as long as you're clean and professional he doesn't care what you do 🖸 likes to take his time and do good work, he did work hard for this career after all 🖸 loves getting to do stupid tattoo ideas but is usually stuck doing bigger piece work; he gives the fun stuff to his apprentice 🖸 CHATTERBOX. literally does not shut up during the session, always cracking jokes 🖸 definitely the life of the studio; makes everyone feel comfortable and welcome 🖸 rotary or coil depending on what he's doing 🖸 generally keeps the main studio area organized; has plants that he gets kyle to take care of. his own station though... oml. it's chaos. random mismatching frames with prints of dicks and memes all over the walls. his shelves probably have random knick-knacks he thrifted, like... idk a furby, some random porcelain horse?? just the most weirdest shit. his ink wall is very organized though somehow..

portfolio: preferences to peonies, irezumi style, ignorant style

eric 🖸 specializes in piercings 🖸 definitely gets a kick out of hurting people 🖸 has a big ego because of what he does 🖸 surprisingly very professional when it comes down to it 🖸 makes his clients comfortable and sometimes jokes around with them 🖸 gets nervous before every appointment; always a little afraid he's gonna fuck up 🖸 always keeps the a/c cranked so his clients are less likely to pass out but it makes everyone miserable with how cold it always is in the studio 🖸 thinks he's hot shit because he's the best piercer in town; it definitely fuels his already massive ego 🖸 definitely the type to bitch about problem clients 🖸 has superhero prints hung up in his station and funko pops on his storage shelves; but his station is fucking spotless otherwise.

portfolio: preference to cartilage, septums, nostrils

butters 🖸 specializes in: kawaii style, anime, cartoons 🖸 kenny's apprentice 🖸 the most nervous wreck of a tattoo artist, cries after almost every tattoo 🖸 runs the social media for everyone and manages the front desk 🖸 basically the "shop bitch" that has to do apprentice duties like cleaning and running errands; kenny's generally pretty easy on him though 🖸 gets all the tattoo's nobody else wants to do, but it pushes him to learn 🖸 slowly making a name for himself though as the only tattoo artist in SP that does anime tats 🖸 gets all the hello kitty girls as clients 🖸 the artist you want to go to if you need a mini therapy session. will tell you to dump your partner, move out of the city, and go travel with the $2 you have left in your bank account after the tattoo lmao 🖸 rotary only. Kenny wanted to teach him how to use a coil but figured with the times he might as well just show him the basics 🖸 pink station! stickers everywhere! he's got a heart ring light to take pictures for his portfolio. his shelves are full of plushies that clients have bought him and anime figures. also has a hello kitty water cooler that he uses for his distilled

portfolio: preference to color, sanrio, anything adorable!

[they-reap-what-we-sow]

20 questions for writers

thank you for the tag @fanfictiongreenirises I finally managed to finish a tag game!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

168- with 44 podfics and the rest are regular fics!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

346,848. unfathomable number who is she where did she come from

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Batman (Batfam) my love my life, but 9-1-1 is a close second with one-offs for a lot of my other passing interests.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Floppy Bird - crack fic that was meant to be an angst fic that I never understood why people liked so much asfhjs

cocoa on a cold night - a classic timby holiday fic that I wrote in the middle of summer, talk about environmental storytelling

secrets un(revealed) - the only purposeful long fic I've ever written, and also the most trope mashing I've ever done with reverse robins, magical realism au, and delicious delicious miscommunications (in my head the only fic that deserves to be in the top five :wheeze: )

Eggshells - vent fic alert !! very embarrassing that people like this I try not to think about it ":)

taking the blade (for you and yours) - a round robin fic written with the server and CHOCK full of Damian suffering.

5. Do you respond to comments?

NO PICTURES. NO COMMENT. I DONT KNOW HOW TO READ.

no jk jk I really really try to but once I start getting behind it's just a whole spiral. these days I have a better chance of replying to a comment on an old fic than a brand new one because I dont want leave them half replied

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

any of my death fics probably? I think with DC a death is a little more inconsequential than other fandoms just because of how often it's unpermanent, so as a concrete answer, I'll say for you (i would cross the line). nothing quite like parental grief.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

happy ending wink-wonk or XD

probably Who The Hell Is Red Hood? - I've done things there with growth and healing that DC HQ would shudder to imagine

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not regularly, thank everything, but the one controversial three-some I posted needed comment regulation lmao

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes and uh, the kinky kind? idk take a look for yourselves I guess

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes, and they're ALWAYS unserious- Buck from 9-1-1 dating Emma from Friends (yes Ross and Rachel's kid) anyone?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Uh, not by a person? as far as I know? but I have found my fic on those like, document websites??? which is weird lmao just read them on your phones guys not everything needs to be uploaded

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

weee yes! round robin my beloved, and also every fic @canonicallyshort and I have written in our threads. those count. to me. emotionally.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I WILL GO DOWN WITH MY MULTISHIP (which really means I'm never going down at all) but really I dont think I will ever get over Merthur... or Buddie... or- you see what I mean?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

oh god I have so many wip that I am holding out hope for but my biggest WIP is an unpublished hellhole affectionately entitled "Death Pit" by everyone who is working on it- most notably because it features a literal Death Pit, every horror, angst, whump, and trauma trope you can think of, and a cast of characters and a plot thread so long we have 20+ page outline documents that aren't even fully updated... I shudder to think what will become of it one day, I imagine sentience isn't very far off

16. What are your writing strengths?

why is this an interview question. I dont know my strengths really?? um. I have good ideas, that one I'll say. execution is a different story (likely one that will never get told. like the rest of my good ideas)

I also think I do fairly well with scene descriptors. I really like to set a scene because I'm seeing a movie in my head and you all should too!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm down to clown globally! I dont like to use google translate though, so if im writing in another language it's only because SOMEONE on the server is a native speaker and can vouch for my text.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh god one direction. head in hands. it was an 'adopted by 1d' fic that I made my mom beta, and turned it in to my 6th grade English teacher as my creative writing assignment. then I made a poem about it. then I wrote a song about it. thankfully it never got published and is trapped in the cursed purple file folder it was 'hidden' in since 7th grade. my first published fic was almost 7 years later with a Gomens fic!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

AHh um. favorite child scene here, but top contenders include: lithium + 5 for its graphic design and medical accuracy, fiery veins on speechless days for its emotional whump that makes me hurt every time I reread it, [PODFIC] wither on the shore which is not a fic I wrote but one of my favorite podfics of @silk-scarlet-ribbons 's works.

tagging (if you wish to participate!) @canonicallyshort @silverandsunflowers @selkienight60 @crows-murder

[chdarling]

finished my tle marathon literally five minute ago!!! it was my first ever marauders fic and i read everything in ONE WEEK AND AM SO HAPPY OMG UR TALENT AND I JUST KNOW NO OTHER FIC WILL EVER COMPARE as far as i’m concerned, tle in canon!!! but now i’m simply overcome with sadness cause i caught up with everything and the wait will most certainly kill me. but i just wanted to come here and say hello and say that i’m a fan now forevermore, so ur stuck with me :)))), and i wanted to ask about the next updates, i’m new so i don’t know how frequently you post new chapters (weekly/monthly/yearly…) and how much you’ll make me wait for tle3 and tle4……. but no pressure tho! i’ll just be waiting every chapter staring at my wall and daydreaming about tle lily and james and sirius and remus and everyone else :) sending all my love <333 ohh and THANK YOU for this masterpiece, i still can’t believe how good your writing is!

Thank you so much, I’m so happy you enjoyed it!!!

Updates are pretty much when I can manage it these days. For future books, I plan to have them fully written before sharing — which means there will be a long break between books 2 and 3, but then chapters should be posted on a regular weekly basis, which is what I want to have happen with TLE2, but then….didn’t hahaha.

Thank you again for the kind words!! Hope to have an update for you soon. ❤️

[esta-elavaris]

2024 has not been my best writing year – not by a long shot. I’ve been pretty open about that, and not just because I’m very grateful for how patient everybody has been with me due to that fact, especially my longer term readers who were here when I was averaging five chapters of Catch the Wind per month, on top of whatever other fics I was writing at the time. This has been the first year this decade that I haven’t religiously tacked my word counts each and every single day, but honestly? I kind of needed that. No, I definitely needed that – and I’m actually very proud of myself for not punishing myself for it, either.

My best fic output years have, categorically, been the years where I was dealing with the worst crap in my personal life. Fiction was an escape from that, and it was a sorely needed escape. This year, thank god, I just haven’t needed that in the same way. When I moved to Scotland and my life became somewhat stable once again, I did try to dive right into a Milwordy attempt – where the goal is to write one million words over the course of a year, averaging out into roughly 85,000 words per month. I hit the halfway point before I crashed and burned. I hadn’t recovered half as much as I thought I had from everything I’d just been through, and I wasn’t doing too well at acknowledging that what I needed was to slow down for a little bit, rather than diving into the next thing and cursing myself 24/7 for not having yet taken the traditional publishing sphere by storm.

So, I slowed down this year. In the beginning, it wasn’t even much of a conscious choice. At the end of last year I followed up 31 days of 31 one shots by trying to do NaNoWriMo immediately after (and organisation I no longer support in any way, shape, or form), and by the time December drew to a close I was utterly wiped out. I was forced to slow down because I literally could not do anything but that, and then somewhere along the way I managed to embrace it, and I’m so glad I did. I spent this year learning to crochet – finally a new creative outlet that I really enjoy, without having any pressure on myself to achieve amazing things within it – enjoying myself, focusing on myself and my own personal growth, and just actually living my life now that it’s no longer something that just has to be tuned out rather than enjoyed.

Buuuut...now I’m ready to get back into my old ways. Because I do miss my old ways, and there was a time when I was that way because of enjoyment, rather than solely escapism, and I’m ready to get back into that. I miss constantly updating stories, I miss staying up until six or seven in the morning, having already binge-written five thousand words because I just cannot put down whatever I’m working on until it’s finished because I’m that engrossed. I miss it all. But I won’t get back into it without some concerted effort...and allowing my old competitive streak (solely against myself and whatever my word count was yesterday) to dictate my word count for the day. I miss the sense of accomplishment that comes with it, I miss how happy I know it makes my readers, I miss it all – and I love that I am ready to get back into it from a place of enthusiasm, rather than worrying that I have something to prove.

Which bring me to my goal. I do still have Milwordy gnawing at the back of my mind, it’s the one challenge beyond finishing the novel that has completely evaded me so far, but even i know it would be dumb to try to get into that immediately following my lowest ever output year. That means that the goal for 2025 is to have twelve consecutive 50k word months – it’ll take a little effort compared to what I’ve been doing lately, but it’s also completely doable. It’s the perfect happy medium, primarily because it leaves plenty of time for me to enjoy other things, too. Whether I’ll then follow that into a second MIlwordy attempt come 2026 is impossible to say, because I don’t know what my life will look like by then, but we’ll see! I’m also going into it with a brand new set of tech that’ll help me with that, considering that ‘til now I’ve been using tech with completely shot battery life that’s more of a chore to use than anything.

I’ll be documenting the whole process on here, because I do sporadically get asks from people who want to know more about how I approach writing (which is insanely flattering, by the way), but also because it’ll keep me accountable and it’ll keep my mind on the goal if I’m consciously discussing it.

I already have some posts planned discussing the more technical aspects – the tech I use, why and when I use it, different tricks I use to get words on the page each day, along with word count tracking and mining for inspiration, overcoming creative ruts, all that good stuff, which will be peppered in amongst monthly wrap-ups, and it’ll all be done on this blog, using the tag ‘esta’s 2025 600k’, organised in this post right here.

Aaaaand...it’ll be starting a little sooner than I anticipated, because I realised last night that if I stand a chance at managing this next year, December will have to be a warm-up month so that I don’t immediately hate my life come January. I won’t be as strict about hitting 50k in December – I do really want to, but I also want to hit a good happy medium of getting my writing habit back, without ending completely burnt out for the proper first month. Especially because my additional rule is this –

No words can carry over at the end of each month.

I have to write a minimum of fifty thousand words, every single month. That is the point. If I write 70k in January, that does not mean I start February with 20k already done. That’s cheating, and that’s not the point of this. Additional words are a great bonus and I won’t avoid writing them if I get really into whatever I’m working on – if I end 2025 with more than 600k words, great, but the priority is a consistent 50k every single month.

So, keep an eye out if you want to see updates, follow me on IG if you want to see more frequent stuff over there, ready yourselves for more consistent fic updates (finally), and get ready to witness plenty of existential crises as I tackle finally getting this fucking novel finished. I’m so excited for it – I’m so ready for it! Writing always feels like coming home to me, and I’m delighted that I can now approach going back to my old ways from a place of excitement, rather than pressure. 

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi Cal!! I hope you’re having a nice week!

First of all, I’m so glad that you enjoy my submissions - I’m really happy that I can pay forward even just a little bit of the happiness that your writing brings me! Second, major props on finishing Any Other Way! The ending was absolutely fabulous, just so sweet and exactly what they deserve. I remember when you started it and have really enjoyed reading it! It’s truly a masterpiece of characterization. I love these versions of Buck and Eddie and I’m sorry to see them go (but mostly just happy that they exist)

The first theme for this week is “child-incoming” fics! Very excited to have my heart stolen by all these fictional kids!

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞 (not sorry to see Tommy go but very excited to get to know Dove! This is such a fun twist on the ‘single-father Buck’ trope and I can’t wait to see where you take it!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (omg how did you manage to level up tsunami angst?!?! I’m living for it!!)

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ (TWATYTK my beloved!!! Chris feeling insecure about his place in Buck’s life! Buck promising that Chris will always be his first kid! That’s that good stuff I love!)

- PCA <3

HEY!!! I do enjoy them so much!!! And thank you!!! I am so glad you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun spending so much time in that world.

LOL child incoming! So true. Didn't even realize I had three of those.

63 for 🪞 (Yay! Glad you're excited to get to know Dove!)"

---

Just… Buck finds himself on a bit of a learning curve. He tries to remind himself that’s to be expected. Every new parent finds themselves a little out of their element, right? It’s not just because she’s already six and he doesn’t know her and she literally won’t ask for anything ever. Like even her most basic needs. 

At first he doesn’t notice. Of course he doesn’t. That seems to be the whole point of whatever she’s doing. 

It starts when his alarm goes off after her first night home with him. Seven in the morning. A reasonable time to start the day, he figured. He’d not expected to get a full night’s sleep, but somehow he did. Hen and Karen had warned him about it. The rough first few transitional nights with many of their foster places. So Buck had been ready to be woken several times by movement or her calling out or any sort of thing. He’s used to sudden wake up calls. He’s a firefighter. But when his alarm goes off, he’s well rested. Uninterrupted. 

He gets up to check on Dove. Pads down the hallway quietly, so as not to wake her. The door is left open a crack from when she went to sleep. When Buck peers in the room, he finds that she’s sitting up in bed, covers hugged around her, hugging her stuffed crocodile and staring at the wall. Wide awake. There’s a disconcerted expression on her face.

“Hey, kiddo,” Buck says gently, knocking softly on the door. “How long have you been awake?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Fair. There isn’t a clock in her room. Maybe he should get one? Can she tell time? He doesn’t actually know. Why didn’t he ask Angie?

“Okay, well,” Buck says. “You can wake me up in the mornings if you need anything. Even if it’s really early.” 

She nods. “Okay.”

Buck doesn’t think much of the interaction at first. Assumes maybe there was a rule in the group home. He doesn’t know. So he brushes it off. But then it keeps happening. 

If he doesn’t offer her drinks and snacks, she never mentions that she’s hungry or thirsty. At one point, she’s licking her lips to wet them before he notices. And he feels like a complete idiot. Like he should be checking in way more. Or way more attuned to her needs. He would know the signs better, if this was Jee or Chris, wouldn’t he?

Later, he takes her to the park nearest the house. He wants to show her that they can have fun. That he wants to be involved. At first, it goes well. They have fun. She likes the swings and the teeter totter. After a while, she starts to get quiet. A little irritable. Buck tries to find out what’s wrong, but before he can, she has an accident. Pees herself, right there. Turns out she’d desperately had to go, but wouldn’t tell him. Buck is at a total loss. 

That’s the only accident she has, but the next two days are marked by similar behavior. 

---

27 for 🔼:

---

He’s in the water. He’s moving. He’s tumbling. He can’t tell which way is up. He’s desperate for air. Things are smacking him as he’s sent careening away from the Panda Express. Away from Shannon and Christopher. 

The thing is, he’s probably going to die. Drowning. Head trauma. Bleeding out. Maybe he’ll be crushed by a vehicle in the water. There are lots of ways this could go badly.

And honestly, he keeps waiting for it. Not in an anticipatory way. He doesn’t want it. But something tells him, this is it. He survived the truck bombing and the embolism for this reason. He did what he needed to do. He did what was important. And now he’s going to die.

But then he just doesn’t. He keeps surviving. It keeps going. Until his lungs are burning and his head is throbbing and the salt in his eyes has temporarily marred his vision. Until he is desperate for relief. Woozy and senseless. 

---

63 for ⚡️:

---

Well, Buck thinks it’s a little more complicated than that. 

“I don’t know,” Buck says. “I’m not close with my parents just because they’re my parents. You and I, we’re not related, but you’re my family in more ways than they ever have been. And that’s about how much we love each other, right? That’s a choice.”

Christopher thinks about that for a minute. 

“I didn’t think about your parents,” he admits.

Buck nods. “Yeah, so it’s different for me, you know? I always had my sister, but other than that… I mean, Bobby’s the first person who made me feel like I had a parent that loved me. And we aren’t related at all.”

“And you were like already old when you met him,” Chris observes. 

“Okay, I was twenty-six. I’m not even old yet, now!”

Chris laughs a little. And Buck knows their talk is working. Thank fuck.

“But the point is,” Buck continues. “Doesn’t matter when we met. Doesn’t matter what our DNA might look like. And it doesn’t matter who else I get to love in my life. You’re my kid, okay?”

“Okay,” Christopher says. Then he turns and hugs Buck back. 

Buck squeezes him tight. 

“I love you so much,” Buck tells him. 

“I love you, too,” Chris says. “We can go home now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Buck says. “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too,” Chris says. “I feel better.”

“I’m glad,” Buck says. “You want to stop for milkshakes on the way home?”

“Yes!” Chris exclaims. “Thank you!”

It’s not until they’re in the truck headed back, each with their own milkshake in hand, that Buck thinks of what Eddie said on their honeymoon. About talking to Bobby. 

It hadn’t seemed pressing, is the thing. It had felt like Eddie was being a little unnecessarily pushy. Buck had promised to consider it, as a term of naming any future son of theirs Robert, but that was it. He hadn’t seen the urgency. But maybe… Well, this whole thing with Christopher has reframed his perspective. Maybe there is harm in leaving this unsaid. Especially if Buck’s main motivator in doing so is fear of rejection. 

Maybe Buck needs to think about this some more. 

Maybe Eddie was right. Damn. He’s definitely going to gloat. 

☆☆☆

Eddie gets home before sunrise. Which isn’t hard exactly, in January. 

He’s tired, sore from a shift with an unexpected amount of heavy lifting, and disappointed to have missed the sort of final moment of moving. He thinks he’ll go back to the old house one last time before it’s no longer theirs. Just to say goodbye. After all, so many big parts of his life happened there. He feels like he owes it more than that. Weird as that is to say about an inanimate structure. 

[rosietrace]

『 “Ella & Kit” 』

| Roya Callistis and Gwendolyn Schnee | 🗡️ + ❄️ | (ft. Tinsley LaBelle)

✎ᝰ. synopsis : My heart has wings. And I can fly. I'll touch every star in the sky. So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of…

✎ᝰ. content warnings : none

✎ᝰ. genre : romance, fan event fic, oc x oc, fluff, mutual pining

( ˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥) a/n: A (VERY) belated happy birthday goes to Ellis!!! I would like to formally apologize for this taking so long to come out 😭 it's been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long but thank GOD I managed to actually finish it. I hope you enjoy this, and if Gwen or even Tinsley feel ooc… I'm so sorry >=)0

Roya felt out of place.

Not that that was out of the ordinary for him, not in the slightest. The difference was that tonight, with luminescent stars in the midnight river and shining crystals shining a light against the ballroom tiles— Roya was, quite literally, not supposed to be there.

The Glimmering Soirée seemed to be open for everyone, but it felt almost exclusive to NRC students only. Not a single RSA student in sight, or at least as far as Roya's silver eyes could get a grasp at.

Keeping a low profile was even more precarious; being a prince was one thing, but being an alleged cursed prince? Quite frankly, that was much worse.

Everyone knew everyone, and even if Roya wasn't a member of Night Raven's student body, they most definitely knew of him.

They could've at least seen a picture of me, Roya figured, twisting his lips as he pondered. Although the palace painters never seem to get my nose ri–

“Roya?”

He flinched, his head whirling around and unintentionally smacking whoever it was behind him with his long braid.

Tinsley LaBelle yelped and recoiled, covering her face with both hands and hissing. “Ow…”

“Tinsley!” Oh, how Roya was relieved to see a familiar face. But upon seeing her expression and the hiss she'd elicited, he felt an immense guilt. “A-Ah… I..”

“It's fine!” Tinsley laughed it off, awkward at that, but somewhat assuring to some level. “Nothing to worry about! Haha… ha…”

“I am so sorry.”

“Don't be. I know you didn't mean to.”

“Yes, I… You just startled me, is all.”

Tinsley chuckled. For once, she can see what Gwen sees. “Right…”

“... You do know you aren't supposed to be here, right?”

Roya flushed, sputtering out words that came off as gibberish more than they did coherent sentences and bared his teeth at Gwen's sister.

At his poor attempt at a smile, Tinsley smiled through a grimace. “So… You do know?”

He nodded once. “Yes, I was…”

“You wanted to see Gwen?” How adorable, Tinsley's face seemed to say, making Roya flush all the more until he rivaled the redness of his hair.

He didn't answer the first time, looking around the ballroom for any sight of short winter white hair and a familiar pair of ice colored irises.

With no avail, and Tinsley having already repeated her inquiry, Roya hesitated. But as Gwen's older sister, Roya knew that he could trust Tinsley.

Tinsley did the same as him, looking around for any sign of her little winter fairy sister. Both their attempts ended fruitlessly, and they conceded at their momentary loss.

And then… finally, he saw her.

Oh, how beautiful she was. Against the crystalline lights, Gwen glowed like the moon in an ocean of stars— overcasting all with her luminescence.

She'd merely been minding a business of her own, admiring the decor, seeing to the needs of his royal majesty, Prince Malleus; yet Roya cared little for the wants or needs of a prince most unimportant to his night.

Roya went over to her, the encouragement and abruptness of Tinsley’s voice falling on deaf ears. His eyes, his body, his heart, all focused upon Gwen.

His hand took hers, both gloved. “Gwen…” a smile came on his face just by uttering her name so truly softly.

She flinched, her head turning to meet his gaze at last. Her surprise soon went suppressed and overshadowed by a softness that made his heart melt.

“Roya…” She smiled, before the question on her mind finally reached her lips. “Wait– Roya? What are you–”

“I came,” he explained, taking his hands in his, “to see you, dear Gwen.”

“M-Me…?” Her head tilted to one side. Flattered as she might've been, her concerns over him getting in trouble outweighed it. “But Roya–”

“I know it's risky being here, but I couldn't help myself.”

So that's your excuse, Gwen's beautiful face conveyed. “Roya…”

“Please, Gwen, treasure of my heart?” Roya smiled, his gentle hands intertwining their fingers with Gwen with a pleading tilt to his head.

How could Gwen say no to a smile so… so genuine, so sincere?

She indulged his wishes, the chances of getting scolded be damned. They rounded the corner and entered the threshold of the dancefloor.

Gwen looked around. She suddenly felt all too aware of the eyes that soon caught a glimpse of her and a prince who shouldn't even be here with her.

Roya directed her eyes back on his, that same smile of complete utter sincerity diminishing all possible signs of worry or concern. “Eyes on me.”

She obliged, taking her hand in his and her other on his shoulder; all the while Roya wrapped his free hand gently around her waist, pulling her a bit closer.

She flinched at the movement, at the sudden contact. They looked at each other and they both laughed, smiling all the while and let the music do the talking for them.

As the band played on with a new melody, Gwen noted the dichotomy of the gentleness of the way Roya held her; especially compared to his abilities in the art of dance.

It left much to be desired, really. But given that Roya's talents lied in swordsmanship and equestrianism, it didn't entirely bewilder Gwen the way it probably should have.

But then a compromise came to mind. A solution, of sorts. Whether or not it'll be successful in the end, Gwen didn't know— but it was well worth a shot!

She broke the silence, leaning so he could hear and keeping her voice low and soft. “Your steps are too stiff.”

“What?” Roya stared, frankly for a couple more seconds longer than he should be. (Either way, Gwen found it cute)

Not wanting to sound overly critical, seven forbid rude, Gwen continued. “It’s… a bit uncoordinated, shall we say.”

“Oh…”

“I-It’s nothing to be emba–”

“I apologize,” muttered Roya in a manner that could only be described as sheepish and awkward.

Gwen breathed out a sigh. “To quote a certain someone,” said Gwen, “eyes on me.”

Clever girl, Roya thought when she echoed her words right back at him. Much too clever and talented to be a servant.

And just when his thoughts began to wander to a life where Gwen wasn't a servant under Malleus’ employ — a life where they'd be together side by side, never to be separated — he shook his head at the absurdity of it.

Now wasn't the time for mindless daydreaming. He needed to focus. Eyes on Gwen.

All eyes were on Gwen and him now, really. But Roya couldn't fathom the thought that everyone was focused at his appearance at a non RSA event than they were admiring just how striking Gwen was.

At times Roya’s drifted downwards to keep focus on his footwork. Upon noticing that however, Gwen brought a gentle hand to his chin, tilting it back up to meet her gaze.

“Remember— focus on your partner's face. Not their feet.”

“You cannot fault me for my anxiousness,” mumbled Roya, lifting his arm alongside hers for her to spin across the ballroom floor with him by his side— gliding like ice laid beneath their feet.

Endeared by his answer, Gwen chuckled. “I suppose I can't. But should you focus elsewhere, I fear I'm not as good a teacher as I'd hope.”

What nonsense. Roya huffed. “You make a wonderful teacher, really. Perfect.”

“Well, now you're just flattering me.”

“And is flattery not well deserved?”

“Pffft- Roya…”

“I am but saying this jest, dear Gwen.” As her spin came to a halt, Roya's arm returned to its place around her waist. “Praise and adoration are all but two of the many things I believe I should adorn you regularly.”

“Roya—”

“My adoration for thou is quite concerning, actually. One might chastise me for bordering on obsession, but I can't help it, really.”

They stopped at the edge of the dancefloor, only a few steps away from breaching the bridge of dancer and observer.

Roya tucked a stray hair behind Gwen's pointed ear, his thumb then coming to trace the outline. “It… it feels as though I've known you all my life, Gwen. As if I've met you in a previous life of mine.”

“... Surely you jest..” Gwen turned her face away, a warm flush painting her cheeks in lighthearted embarrassment.

Now it was Roya's turn to tilt her chin, for her to meet his attentive gaze. “I could hardly joke over something like that, Ella.”

Something almost close to familiarity flashed in Gwen's crystalline eyes at the use of the name. Strange, Gwen sensed something, but that something hardly felt amiss.

“... If I am to be Ella,” Gwen murmured. “Might you be my Kit?”

It was odd. How familiar both names sounded even when it was the first time they've said them aloud. That hardly couldn't matter, couldn't it?

The chances of pondering more over that rode off like a freight chain, regrettably. Dire Crowley was in Gwen's line of sight, and as… questionable as her headmage is with his methods of handling NRC, she couldn't imagine what kind of trouble could erupt if he were to find an RSA student within campus grounds.

Whatever Roya wanted to say fell on deaf ears when Gwen took him by his wrist and rushed him out of the ballroom before Crowley could catch them.

A part of Gwen dreaded that Crowley might've spotted Roya and his standout red hair. In other circumstances, hair of that color helped make him easy to spot in a crowd; this useful aspect of his appearance was not so useful at the moment.

They fled far enough to reach the courtyard, with Gwen letting go of Roya's wrist to catch her breath against the lone tree that Leona usually frequented. At least he wasn't there at the moment.

Somehow Roya wasn't even half as out of breath as Gwen was. He barely broke a sweat and it made her wonder if it was impressive or not. Probably is.

Clearing her throat and placing her gloved hands behind her back, she sent a sheepish smile his way. Apologetic. “Er… the headmage was within our line of sight, so…”

“I understand.” Roya nodded, standing close to her with a hand over his heart. “And for that, I am thankful that you… Well, helped evade me from getting in trouble.”

“It was the least I could do.” Gwen laced her fingers with Roya's, intertwining them like twin flames at long last reunited. “You put it in the effort to sneak in to see me.”

“Of course I would.”

Gwen felt Roya's hand reach the side of her face, but not before he took off his glove to feel the ice cold skin beneath his warm palms.

“You… are precious,” Roya declared, “in every way that matters. My heart sings a symphony I hope yours can hear and understand, and when I'm with you, I…”

Gwen inched closer, threatening to close the gap between them until their noses brushed. “You…?” She prodded shyly.

Roya swallowed. Hard. “With you, I– I feel as though I could fly and touch the constellations with you by my side, I… I can't seem to breathe without you near, I—”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh in humility. His forehead pressed against hers. “I love you, my Ella. And in my heart, I dream of you loving me, too.”

Her icy heart melted at his declaration, his promise. With a tender smile, Gwen's hands cradled his face as her lips pressed a chilling kiss to his forehead that nearly undid him.

“I love you too, sweet Kit.”

【 Taglist / Credits 】

↳ In order of OC appearances/mentions

Roya Callistis – Me 😈

Tinsley LaBelle – @jasdiary

Gwendolyn Schnee – @starry-night-rose

@authoruio | @fumikomiyasaki | @sakuramidnight15 | @twsted-princess | @geminiiviolets | @hallowed-delights · @terrovaniadorm | @absolutelyobsessedkiya | @valse-a-mille-temps | @oseathepebble

[riexlu]

Miraculous Fic Recs

Due to popular demand (literally one person), I am back with some more fic recs! If you fall in love with a fic on this list, you can thank @potatoobitxh because it was their idea for me to do this. Anyways, let's get on with my recommendations!

Cut My Life Into Pieces, This Is My Last Resort

"Marinette has reached the end of her tether. Hawkmoth is running her ragged as Ladybug, and after three years Lila has finally managed to make good on her promise to ruin her life and leave her all alone. Desperate and exhausted, Marinette finally decides to take drastic measures; something’s gotta give, and that something can’t be Ladybug. She decides to take her civilian self out of the equation for a while, but a terrible sleep-deprived decision forces her to put things into motion way before she’s ready. Now she has to try and stick to her guns, despite the devastation she’s left in her wake…which for some reason seems to have hit Adrien and Chat Noir the hardest."

i actually finished this quite recently, and i genuinlly cannot recommend it enough. fair warning, there is a GOOD bit of angst and some gore, but I promise there is a happy ending. i binge read it in less than a day because it kept me on my toes and i had to see the end! if you liked Nine Lives, i'm sure you'll like this too!

The Power of Creation

"Everyone knows that Ladybug's cure fixes everything after the destruction wrought by Shadow Moth's akumatized villains. After an akuma with an unfortunate power leaves Ladybug and Adrien in an awkward position, Marinette has never been happier to simply forget. However, she soon discovers that her miraculous ladybugs have a limitation on their curing ability: a limitation that puts her in a situation she never expected to be in."

now this one is a toss up. pregnancy fics aren't very popular, but I swear by anything written by Ladynoir_fan. i myself enjoy the occasional pregnancy fic, so i have a couple of these in bookmarks. if you're into accidental pregnancy, check this one out!

Soulmate Tropes

"“How does Fortune Teller even know who are soulmates?” Marinette crossed her arms. “Isn’t that a universe-scale kind of power? What right does she have to play matchmaker?”

-

An akuma makes soulmate tropes a reality."

this one is so good. it's silly and light hearted, so it's really great if you need a pick-me-up. if you like soulmates and need a good laugh, read this one!

Buga-BOO!

"WARNING: Summary contains spoilers for “Sandboy” episode.

Things that go bump in the night?  Nope.  Creepy clowns and masked chainsaw-wielding ne’er-do-wells?  Marinette will pass, thanks.  Nightmare Adrien crawling wide-eyed after her and announcing in a possessed voice that he’s going to marry Chloe and have three children and a hamster named Marinette?  Yeah, she’ll save that topic for therapy.

There’s no way Marinette would agree to a haunted house or any type of jump-scare event…

And isn’t that just the perfect challenge?"

don't get me started on this one. it has the perfect ratio of angst, resolve, fluff, and Lila slander all in one place! all of The Great Pretender series is really, really good. (i especially enjoyed Lie-abilities of the Ladybug Cure, but be warned: it involves gun violence and i understand that can be sensitive to some readers. proceed with caution!) if you like some hurt/comfort with Marinette whump, read this one!

Lady Butterfly

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng is very tired.

Of everything, for sure, but mostly she feels like everything is bearing down on her at once and she isn't allowed to have emoitons because she can't afford to get akumatized, not as Ladybug.

Then she gets pushed a bit too far and leaves before anything terrible can happen, and finds herself talking to her mortal enemy/nemesis.

He's actually not that bad, she finds.

i really like this one. it includes Gabriel not being a horrible person (mostly) so that's great to read! if you want to read not so bad Gabriel, akumatized Marinette with a sprinkle of Lila takedown, this one is for you!

next time, i'm thinking about making a dark fic rec list! i'll tag it with "mlb darker than noir " if i end up doing it so you can go ahead and block that tag. let me know if you are interested though!