#Like your WIP Wednesdays are what got me back into writing again.

[captain-danwilds]

HI HELLO I WOULD LOVE SOME FOXES RA??? - @jtl-fics

WIP Wednesday 10/9.  “How do we deal with knifes?” 

Mrs. Grossman of Housing and Residence Life looked incredulous.  After all, they had a whole week of training and the student code of conduct.  

“I believe you all have a copy of the banned items list.  The exception for Swiss Army knives and most kitchen equipment is at your discretion.”

“No I mean, what do we do if we’re aware a student has contraband knifes?”

Mrs. Grossman considered the hypothetical that wasn’t at all a hypothetical.  “Are they a threat to themselves or others?”

Sam thought of the manic smile and the way Andrew Minyard seemed determined to put himself between his family and the world. “I don’t think so.”  

Mrs. Grossman smiled. “Inform the student of housing policy and have them sign Incident report 27b to acknowledge you had the discussion.  If it is a repeat issue, please elevate to housing staff.” 

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat” 

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies. 

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”. 

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat” 

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box. 

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago” 

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs. 

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss. 

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there. 

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there. 

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in. 

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“ 

You’re fuming. 

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare. 

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?” 

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though” 

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away. 

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously. 

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling. 

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties. 

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating. 

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” 

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably. 

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time. 

Terrible combination. 

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude. 

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering. 

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate. 

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words. 

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place. 

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here” 

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly. 

You immediately look up. “Nothing” 

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?” 

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit” 

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right. 

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin. 

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking” 

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry 

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his. 

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess” 

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @steadfastsaturnsrings 💜

So I had an idea for a new fic. Not sure if I’m actually gonna write it because I have 7 assignments and 2 tests to do over the next month but I just had this idea and I thought it was funny so here’s a snippet.

(Or Eddie gets transported back in time and meets Buck 1.0 at a bar)

“You keep staring at me.” Buck’s voice comes from beside him and he startles.

“I uh—“

Buck chuckles. “So, you wanna buy me a drink or do you wanna get out of here?”

What? Is Buck… hitting on him?

Eddie frowns at him. “I’m not uh—“

Buck rolls his eyes. “Really? You gonna pretend you haven’t been checking me out all night? Please,” he scoffs.

“I-I have a kid!” Eddie splutters out. Seriously Eddie?

Buck's eyes light up and his whole expression changes. He looks more like the Buck Eddie knows.

“I love kids!”

Eddie fights the urge to say I know. “His name is Christopher… he’s e—“ shit how old is Chris now? “Six?”

Buck furrows his eyebrows. “You sound mighty sure about that, man.”

Fuck now Buck thinks he’s a bad parent. “No, no, sorry uh yeah he’s six.” Eddie takes out his phone to show Buck the picture of Chris saved to his Lock Screen. Chris is so small in the photo — his red glasses are slightly too big for his face and he’s holding onto his blue crutches that had dinosaur stickers plastered all over them. Damn, Eddie really misses those days. Well, he supposes he’s got them back now.

“He’s super adorable,” Buck says, beaming, and Eddie knows he means it. Buck raises his hand to signal the bartender. “Question still stands though, drink?”

He shouldn’t… “Um, sure.”

Bucks eyes widen. “You’re—you’re not married are you?”

Eddie hesitates… technically. “Uh…”

“Oh shit! Sorry!” Buck is quick to apologise.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, no I haven’t seen my wife in… a few years? She left us.” And she’s dead in another universe but that’s a bit more complicated to explain.

“Sucks man. Her loss is my gain though,” he says, and there’s that smirk again. Eddie wants to kiss that smirk off his face. What? “I’m Buck, by the way,” Buck says, stretching his arm out.

I know, you’re my best friend. “Eddie,” he replies, shaking his hand.

“I look forward to getting to know you,” Buck says, his eyes wandering over Eddie’s body lustfully.

Eddie swallows. This was so not what he signed up for.

Not that he’s complaining.

Tags <3

@disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @loveyouanyway @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @bucksbackwardcap @loserdiaz (let me know if you want to be added or removed 💜)

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel babies @guiltyasdave & @eupheme & @elflutter<3 18+ under the cut!

wip #1 • he's a good time, cowboy casanova!

a cowboy and the governor’s daughter walk into a barn...

cowboy!logan...that's literally it.

“Hang on, baby.” Logan’s hands fall to your hips, stopping you just as the tip of his cock brushes against your dripping pussy. “You wanna ride, you gotta look the part.” He drags his hands lower, calloused palms rough against the soft skin of your thighs. It’s enough to make you shiver, hips twitching down with the desperate need to be filled. “Got the boots,” he murmurs idly, thumbs sliding along the back of your thighs. “Just need the hat.” Logan reaches up to grab his hat by the crown, pulling it off his head to drop it on yours. You left out a soft breath, feeling the worn felt settle on the top of your head, still warm from his own. It’s too big, slipping down to shadow your eyes. Logan’s gaze darkens as he adjusts it, tipping the brim just enough to frame your face. “Much better,” he says, flicking the brim once before his hands fall back to your hips. “Alright cowgirl, give it to me good.”

wip #2 • baby if you love me you would call me your bunny (tell me that i’m just a baby honey)

logan wants to keep you pure for as long as possible, you have other ideas…

this is a half-alseep idea i had for old man!logan...not wanting to take your virginity...so you come up with a compromise!

You press him for it constantly, insisting you know what you want, that you've made up your mind. That you’re a big girl who does know what she’s dealing with despite him thinking otherwise. You're sure you want him to be your first, sure that you want him to take your virginity. Just the thought has a shudder running through him every time, something dangerous stirring deep in the pit of his stomach, white hot and all consuming. But he can’t shake that voice in the back of his mind—the one telling him it wouldn’t be fair, not to you, not to himself. He knows the very second you'd lie back on the sheets of his bed, legs spread as you bare yourself to him, that he'd never get enough. He’d lose himself, ruin that sweet, untouched innocence that clings to you like morning dew. A part of him—hell, maybe all of him—wants nothing more than to make you his, to leave marks on you in a way that makes sure you’d never look at another man the same way again. Logan's done a lot of things in his life he can't take back, a lot he probably should regret but doesn’t.  That won't be the case. Not this time. Not with you. He's not about to let himself make this into something you'll regret in the morning, or the next year, or twenty years from now when you’re sitting across from someone your own age while he rots away in an unmarked grave, wondering why the hell you wasted your time with some angry old man who couldn’t let you go. And yet, you're making it so damn hard to keep saying no.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @silverskyeline @ovaryacted @moonlight-prose @raeinyourdreams

[aurorawritestoescape]

Wip Wednesday

Thank you for the tags bbs @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 ❤️❤️

I’m working on two stories for two amazing writing challenges right now. The first one is for @yxtkiwiyxt ‘s Never have I ever challenge. I’m really excited about this fic, I hope it turns out sweet and hot.

Joel x hotel maid! reader

Mr Miller walked to the nightstand and bent over to grab something. Your eyes immediately slid from his broad muscular back to his ass, looking absolutely sinful in the grey sweatpants. The sight made you feel hot all over again. You quickly snapped your eyes back to his face when he turned to you.

“Oh no, Mr Miller, you don’t have to—. You shook your head, having noticed a wallet in his hand.

”I insist,” he replied, taking money out. Then he leaned closer, lifted your hand and placed the cash into your palm.

“I’m really sorry.”

You felt the warmth of his skin on yours, his smile was warm and a little shy, and it was a fleeting moment, but the time seemed to stop for you. You drowned in his eyes, his gruff voice reached the deepest parts of you and a scorching fire licked at your core. Your chest swelled with a feeling so overwhelming, so strong that it almost knocked you off your feet.

Trying to hide the tornado inside you, you dropped your eyes and glanced at his hand, so big in comparison to yours. Your mind betrayed you and the image of Mr Miller’s hand wrapped around his cock flashed in your memory.

Your breath hitched, you pulled your hand away and squeaked,

“Thank you, sir.”

The second one is for @happypedrohours ‘s Bouquets of Pedro Creativity challenge - I got Dieter and Dating Apps and decided to make it extra filthy for Valentines day lol This fic is very self indulgent, it’s kinky and crazy hot to me and I’d be happy if someone else enjoys it too😅 oh, and it has a special guest👀

Dieter was ready to die of boredom, shooting the boring ad - him interviewing a happy married couple that had found each other on the app. In his mind he was already planning what he was going to drink, sniff, take and fuck tonight, barely noticing what was happening around him on set.

Yet when he saw the couple, his attitude made a u-turn, especially when he laid his eyes on the most precious co-star - you. His mind short circuited and every part of him started buzzing. Especially his cock.

You were a beautiful woman, there was no doubt in that, but what made him howl like a cartoon wolf was your big pregnant belly, accentuated by your thin summer dress. Your boobs were almost spilling out of the neckline and Dieter immediately bricked up as he shamelessly took you in.

“Meet the Pikes,” his manager introduced the two of you. “They started dating thanks to the app, got married and now expecting a baby. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Amazing. When’s the due date?” he blurted out, shaking your hand and almost choking on his saliva.

“Next month,” you replied without a beat, smiling widely at the actor. “I’m a huge fan of yours, Mr Bravo. And my husband too.”

Your husband, Marcus, was hot as well, tall and slim, with short dark hair and eager eyes. He looked too clean for Dieter, too put-together, but it could be fun to ruffle the guy up a bit.

Dieter smirked, ogling the two of you. He knew exactly what he was doing tonight.

Npt💞 @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @tateypots @joelmillerisapunk @thundermartini @sawymredfox @schnarfer @kewwrites @quaritchscupquake @corazondebeskar @yxtkiwiyxt @guiltyasdave @evolnoomym @bonezone44 ❤️❤️❤️

[djarins-cyare]

WIP Wednesday

Well, the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge deadline is fast approaching, and I’m 6 chapters and 18k words into what has turned into something waaay lengthier than it started out! So sorry, teacher, I think I’m gonna need an extension on my homework deadline.

Meanwhile, throughout September, I’ve been tagged in various WIP posts by @the-mandawhor1an, @burntheedges, @nerdieforpedro, and @for-a-longlongtime (thank you all 💚), so under the cut, you’ll find a little midweek offering of my now somewhat out-of-control Secret Relationship trope fic...

***If you haven’t already, you may wish to read my first WIP post before the one below, as this one references the earlier one.***

“He raised you?” Mando sounds incredulous. “Why is that weird?” He sighs. “It’s not. Well… it might be. Sleeping with the guy’s niece was one thing, but you’re like his kid—” “Stop there,” you demand with steely ferocity. “First, I am not a kid in any sense. I don’t need to see your face to guess you’re not that much older than me. And, like you, I’m an adult and can make my own decisions, so no kid references, please. Second, whatever his reasons are for keeping us apart, they don’t matter because once I leave here, none of this ever happened. Right?” Your mini tirade is met first with silence, then a chuckle. “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” His amusement diffuses your mock indignation, and you smirk. “You kind of have to be when you grow up here. You don’t think you can handle me?” You shift a little closer to him on the couch. “Oh, mesh’la,” he drawls, his voice casual but with a fiendish edge. “I’m a bounty hunter by trade. You think I haven’t dealt with people far wilder than you?” Kriff, yeah. There’s that confidence you saw last night when he indirectly requested an orgasm before you went to bed. Sure, it’s nice to know that there’s a sweet and awkward guy beneath the warrior exterior, but this is what you find attractive in him. The confident, intimidating hunter. You visibly shiver and press your thighs together at the thought, and he chuckles darkly. Yeah, you just gave away your desires. Still, he doesn’t move yet. You feel like he’s waiting to pounce… emphasis on the waiting. “Okay then, Mandalorian,” you goad with your head held high, almost daring him. “Show me what you’ve got.” There’s a pause as he tilts his helmet slightly, and it lingers for long enough that you start to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. You were just keeping up the banter. Why has he suddenly gone silent? A few more moments pass, and your second-guessing becomes mildly frantic. But as you bite your lip and furrow your brow, Mando releases a deep hum and rumbles, “Mm… better.” Suddenly, you realise. This is not a contest of wits, and he’s not in the mood for sexual banter. He wants to be in charge this time. Well, you were in control last night, and he did say he would pay you back. Plus, he’s spent a whole cycle being unable to control anything due to his injuries. It’s becoming clearer how he sees this going. And you’re very much on board. Now that you understand, you try again. Tucking your chin down, you look up at him through your lashes and soften your tone. “Please, Mando…” “Mm, good girl,” he praises, and heat sparks to life in both your chest and your cunt. “Please, what? What do you want?” You think back to the dialogue that led to the blow job. “Please, will you make me come?” At last, he moves, reaching for your lower thigh and running his palm slowly upward, leaving flames in its wake. “My helmet stays on at all times, non-negotiable. If you touch it, this stops, understand?” “I understand.” Apparently, lifting it to help him drink last night was a one-time deal. “Good. Then, yes, cyar’ika, I’ll make you come.”

Tagging the folks who showed interest in my first snippet as well as those on my permanent tag list. Those of you who write/create and would like to share something with the class, please feel free to do any type of WIP post (Wednesday, weekend, weekday, whatever) if the mood takes you, no pressure 💚

@5oh5 @604to647 @almostfoxglove @ashleyfilm @burntheedges

@captainredspade @cheekychaos28 @chiyo13 @cw80831 @dindjarins-big-tiddy-goth-gf

@djarin-desires @djarinmuse @drewharrisonwriter @ella-whyte @evolnoomym

@fhatbhabiee @fromthedeskoftheraven @grogusmum @here-briefly @hillarymurray4

@itsjuststardust @jessthebaker @joelalorian @j-p3g @lahooozaherr

@lark-of-mirkwood @latenightswithmiller @lilac-boo @magpiepills @mandoloriancookie

@mosssbawls @nebulanibbles @nerdieforpedro @newpathwrites @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

@prolix-yuy @roughdaysandart @secretelephanttattoo @sidoniyablackwood @sixhours

@syd-djarin @the-blind-assassin-12 @theetherealbloom @the-mandawhor1an @thundermartini

@toomanytookas @vikingqueen28 @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @whocaresstillthelouvre @whxtedreams

@wrathkitty @yopossum @you-give-aspirin-headaches

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 4

Just moving right along! We have hit the halfway point! And I've got 6/8 chapters done! And with any luck the whole story will be finished by the end of the week, allowing me to go back to writing the other stories full time.

Tomorrow I will be releasing "The Last Dragon Slayer" So that should be fun. And WIP Wednesday will be a little different, too. Here's the link to the full explanation for that! Come join the chaos!

In this we have more trauma dumping from Steve and I had too much fun naming the horses.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

The next task I chose for the dear little elf I thought would be easier on them. After all just because they had trouble with people and wanting things to be perfect, surely they must be good with animals.

Surely.

Surely not as it turned out.

I had just come from my workroom where I had been meticulously going through my list as new kids made the list and others would swap lists, when I noticed that door to the reindeer stables was flung wide open and multiple reindeer were milling about the field, moving only when the elf drew near, to run away.

But once the reindeer spotted me, they trotted peacefully into the stable and the elf sank to the ground with a choked off sob.

“I was brushing Donner when Vixen managed to open the lock to her to stall,” the little elf wailed. “So I rushed to grab her, but that was when Donner decided she wanted to be free too and bolted. And...”

“And in your rush to catch those two,” I said with a sigh,” the others made their escape.

The elf nodded sadly. “I’m just no good at this.”

I got down on one knee and lifted their chin slowly. “No good at what, little one?”

They swiped at their eyes with the back of their hand and hiccuped another sob. “Being an elf. I’m like that stupid dentist in that really creepy kids movie from 1960s.”

I chuckled. “Even if you were, it just means you haven’t found your vocation yet. We’ll get there.”

The elf nodded slowly and I helped them to their feet.

~

Steve felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach as he drove out to the Sinclair farm. He hadn’t seen a single deer, much less a reindeer as he drove the narrow pass up to the house. Nope. So far only horses. Lots and lots of horses.

A whole herd of the skittish, four-legged tanks on fragile sticks they called legs.

He was tempted to just back up out of the road, turn tail and call in sick or something. Because this was not going to go well.

At all.

But as he was slowing to a stop to do just that, someone pulled in behind him. Cursing up a storm and berating himself for this, he sped back up again, not stopping until he pulled up along side a 1974 Ford F150.

As Steve got out he realized the other driver was Claudia Henderson with a ragtag group of teenagers in tow. And it looked as though she had almost the whole set.

“Where’s Max?” he asked about the missing member as Will, Mike, Dustin, and Ellie all piled out of Claudia’s car.

“She got here earlier,” Mike said with a whine. “Perks of having a boyfriend whose dad owns horses.”

Steve gulped and nodded.

Just then Eddie’s van pulled up and Steve relaxed a little, not really wanting to reason why he thought that. Somethings were better left alone until 3am on a random Saturday three sheets to the wind drunk.

Eddie got out of his van with a cute little hop and slammed the door behind him. He came bounding up to Steve with the perfect dimpled smile and said, “Hey! You beat me here. I thought for sure I would be the first to arrive!”

“You’re literally last, dude,” Dustin said rolling his eyes. “My mom made thermoses of hot chocolate for everyone.”

Everyone mobbed Claudia for their hot chocolate when Max and Lucas came out of the house, a man following close behind, Steve assumed was Mr. Sinclair.

“Great!” Mr. Sinclair said with a bright smile. “It looks like everyone is here. I have my daughter Erica and Robin out hooking up the horses to the sleigh. So if everyone will follow me.”

Steve started picking at the skin on his nails as he trailed behind. Intrusive thoughts spiraled around in his head with every step he took.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly. “You okay? You look a little green.”

Steve ducked his head sheepishly. “I didn’t realize it was going to be horses. The one sleigh ride I’ve been on it was reindeer.”

“You have a problem with horses?” Eddie asked tilting his head to the side. He looked around at the all the horses milling around in various paddocks.

“When I was eight my mom wanted to learn horseback riding because she was a polo champion when she was in college,” Steve explained licking his lips nervously. “It didn’t go well. The horse was supposed to be even tempered and great with kids.”

“I’m guessing not so much?” Eddie asked gently.

“Went off on a tear,” Steve mumbled, “and then started trying to buck me off, but foot was caught in the stirrup so I was shaken around like a ragdoll until someone could calm the horse enough to let me down.”

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Damn, I’m sorry. Well, at least it isn’t Christmas related trauma. Because seriously, dude you have a lot of that.”

Steve looked him dead in the eye and said in all seriousness. “The horse’s name was Noël.”

“Shit, really?” he asked with a grimace. Steve nodded grimly. “I think Christmas might be cursed for you. Sorry.”

Then Eddie took Steve’s hand in his and Steve looked up at him in awe. “You’re going to in the back of the sleigh with everyone else, but you get nervous, just give my hand a squeeze, okay?”

Steve nodded and they walked all the way to the barn hand in hand.

They had barely reached the barn when the doors burst open and one of the horses flew past them, causing them to leap back to avoid being trampled. Then another came dashing out, and what happened next would live in Steve’s dreams for a very long time.

Eddie grabbed the bridle of the second horse and hauled himself up on it’s back, instantly calming the animal. Then he urged the horse forward into a gallop, chasing down the other horse. Once they were neck and neck, Eddie reached out and grabbed the bridle of the other horse and brought them both to a stand still.

Robin came running up to Steve just as Eddie managed to catch up to the other horse and get it to slow down.

“That was hot,” Steve said, never taking his eyes off of the other man. “Please tell me you saw how hot that was.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I’m a lesbian, I can’t comment on his hotness. Sorry, not sorry.”

Steve turned to her with his eyes wide. “Well, speaking as someone who is into both. Trust me that was very hot.”

Eddie trotted back up to the barn, cheeks rosy from the exertion and the cold, biggest grin on his face. He stopped in front of Robin and Erica, who had also come out of the barn looking sheepish.

“Erica Jean,” Mr. Sinclair admonished her, both hands on his hips. “What are Fili and Kili doing out? I told you to get out Merry, Pippin, Samwise, and Frodo.”

Steve giggled at the names and Eddie gave him a surprised kind of smile when he realized he recognized the names of the horses.

“Fili conspired with Kili to escape,” Erica huffed mirroring her dad’s pose. “They weren’t anywhere near were we were harnessing Pippin and Samwise, but Kili managed to lift the latch on Fili’s stall and the little bastard did the same for his brother.”

Mr. Sinclair sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll make sure to get a couple of padlocks to keep the little escape artists from getting out.” He turned to Eddie. “Would you mind holding onto them until we get the other horses setup in front of the sleigh?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure thing, boss.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to ride,” Dustin said, staring up at Eddie like he was some kind of superhero and he wasn’t the only one. Most of the kids were doing the same thing. The only ones that weren’t were the Sinclairs.

“My grandma had horses when I was growing up,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But I haven’t been on a horse in almost a decade, so um... don’t try that at home. It could have ended very badly for me. I did it without thinking.”

Mr. Sinclair chuckled. “It was probably a good thing, actually. Had you thought about it, you probably would have mistimed the jump. You did good, son.”

He walked into the stable and motioned for Robin and Erica to follow him, Lucas trailing behind.

Eddie gathered up the halters and slid off the horse. He started patting the other’s nose as Steve crept closer. Eddie spotted him and hid his smile in the mane of the horse he had been riding.

“These aren’t the horses that will be pulling the sleigh?” Steve asked when he was close enough for Eddie to hear him.

Eddie shook his head. “These are riding horses and aren’t really suited to pulling sleighs. They can be used like that in a pinch, but when you see the other horses you’ll know what I mean.”

Steve inched forward a little bit more. “They won’t hurt me?”

“I promise,” Eddie murmured. He held out his hand and Steve took it gingerly. He brought Steve’s hand to touch the horse’s nose. The horse snorted but stayed still under Steve’s touch.

Steve giggled. “He’s so warm.” He let Eddie use his hand to stroke the horse’s nose. “Who’s a good boy?”

Eddie pointed over Steve’s shoulder. “Those are the horses that will be pulling the sleigh.”

Steve turned around to Erica, Lucas, Mr. Sinclair, and Robin all came out each with a massive horse.

“Big boys,” he muttered as his eyes continued to move up and up. “They could step on me and they wouldn’t even notice, you’d have to scrape me off their shoe.”

Eddie chuckled. “Probably, but they are unflappable. Come on,” he said, tugging the two idiots forward. “Let me put these two away and I’ll have Robin introduce you to the draft horses.”

Steve nodded nervously.

Eddie whispered something to Robin as he passed and she nodded. She came up to Steve and handed him an apple.

“They’re sweet boys,” she said gently, “but you really want to win their hearts? Apples. Keep your hand flat and let them munch away.”

Steve walked up to the horses and stopped in front of the closest one.

“That’s Sam,” she said, “he loves apples.”

Steve held up his hand and let Sam take the apple. Sam happily munched away and then sniffed around Steve for other apples. Robin pushed his head out of Steve’s space with a laugh.

“You greedy guts,” she said brightly, pulling out another apple. “Can’t have just the one.”

Sam huffed his agreement and munched away at her apple too. “Horses are better than reindeer,” she muttered darkly.

“That hasn’t been my experience,” he said rolling his eyes as he pet Sam’s nose.

“Yeah?”

Steve told her what he told Eddie and she nodded. “Yeah, that sounds rough. I do these type of gigs every year and there is always a reindeer or two who thinks being an ass is more fun.”

He chuckled at her animal joke and she grinned back at him.

“Yeah,” she declared, “you’re sitting next to me on this ride.”

Steve smiled at her. “I’d like that.”

Of course that meant that he sat between Eddie and her, but that was okay.

As they were getting settled on the sleigh he noticed Eddie slapping his neck and looking around.

“You okay?” he asked as the sleigh jerked forward.

Eddie’s lips were pursed to together. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He bumped their shoulders together. “I promise.”

The horses led them through the town and forests and every gasped and pointed at the lights strung up along the way, drinking Claudia’s hot chocolate and listening Charles Sinclair’s, as Steve found out his first name, stories about the town and the different places they were going through.

They stopped at Lover’s Lake and there was Mrs. Sinclair with buttered scones and hot apple cider. As they ate their fill and watched the moon on the lake, Eddie bumped shoulders with Steve.

“You still afraid of horses?”

He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t know what happened that day, but I learned that everyone can have bad days. So, thank you.”

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight

[thursdayinspace]

Let it Fly

fic: light as clouds

the last of the fic prompts! I have to admit, I got a bit creative with this one. And I wanted to hold it back, because as it turns out, this fits perfectly into a long fic I'm writing, so let's just call this "WIP Wednesday" or a fic teaser or "Thursday feels bad about holding back a prompt fill." I will not put it on AO3 yet because there will be a lot more. The fic that this will be a part of currently has the working title "one word, nine letters" and is a post-cancer fic in which they are in an established relationship. this is part of one chapter probably close to the beginning.

tagging @today-in-fic

--

“Just follow me,” she says, and takes his hand.

“Where are we going?” She’s leading him down a winding path at sunset on a cold late evening and as much as he trusts her, he wants to know that she has a reason.

“To the beach,” she says simply. “You’ll see.”

She has been working hard on getting better, on regaining her strength, but he still worries: that she’s pushing herself too hard, that it’s too much for her, that her eyes will look tired again and her legs won’t be able to carry her. He knows she doesn’t want to hear that. She just wants to forget.

Forgetting is the one thing he can’t do.

The light is sunset-soft under a wide expanse of gray-blue sky. It’s beautiful out here, quiet except for the rushing of the waves and the heavy wind, the crisp sea air erasing lingering traces of hospital smell and despair from their minds. A long weekend away was a good idea, he thinks – they both need to stay still for a while, remember how to breathe.

There is a smile on her face as she sighs deeply and looks off into the distance. He looks at her. There is color in her cheeks again, and not just from the cold.

“So, what are we doing here?” he asks. Because somehow he doesn’t think they just came down here for the view.

“Melissa and I used to do this thing,” she says, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. “When things were difficult, when her boyfriend dumped her, or when I was freaking out about telling our parents about joining the FBI. It was her idea. I don’t even know when it started.” Her smile is wistful, her eyes sad, and he loves her so much he can’t stand it sometimes. “We’d climb up onto the roof, or find a hill, or go to the beach, depending on where we were at the time. We took leaves, or feathers, or whatever we had, told them our deepest worries, and let the wind blow them away.”

“That sounds nice,” he says. “Did it work?”

“It was a nice ritual,” she answers. “It eased the pain for the moment.”

“Is that why you wanted to go out this late? Because you need to let go of something?”

Her eyes are so serious as they meet his. “No, Mulder,” she says. “We’re here because you do.”

He swallows. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Her hand squeezes his fingers, her gaze holding his. “You’ve been so sad lately. And -” She shrugs. “I know it’s childish. But I thought maybe – you know. At least acknowledging it – whatever it is – maybe it would help.”

There is one thing, he thinks. Among many. One thing sitting on his chest heavier than all the water in the sea, and it would take a hurricane to wash him onto shore along with the driftwood. But she wants to share something with him and they came so close to losing it all. He’ll take anything she offers. He’s so happy to still have the chance. “What do I have to do?”

She lets go of his hand to pull a feather from her pocket, a single white feather. “I found this earlier. That’s what gave me the idea.”

He takes it and examines it carefully. Such a tiny thing. It will never be able to hold the weight of the ocean. But she’s asking him to believe that it can. “Do I have to say it out loud?”

“No,” she says. “Just think it. Really hard. And then let it go.”

For a short moment, he makes himself believe that it will work. That he can go back to before, to a time where he didn’t know what it feels like to watch the love of your life dying right before your eyes. “Okay,” he says, closes his fist around the tiny feather and squeezes his eyes shut. It hurts. It will always hurt. But it’s the pain of a memory. They will make new memories now.

He opens his eyes, then opens his fist, holds out his hand into the wind. Watches as the feather is caught by a gust, upwards and away, floating on invisible currents.

Next to him, Scully is solid and real, alive, looking at him like she loves him. “What did you tell it?” she asks, and then adds, “You don’t have to tell me.”

He can’t say it. Not right now. He gave the words to the wind, to the sky, to the open air under rugged clouds that are starting to turn red with the beginning of sunset. Maybe they can come down here tomorrow morning, to watch the sun climb its way back up over the edge of the world. Now that they no longer have to worry about every sunrise being her last.

So he doesn’t speak, instead lifts a hand and gently touches his fingers to the back of her neck, to where he can feel the raised skin of her scar, the evidence of the small miracle that let her survive, that gave her back to him.

“Mulder,” she whispers, and he lets the sound of his name from her lips wash over him; no one else has ever said his name like this. He doesn’t want to hear it this way from anyone else.

He brushes her hair away from her face and answers her smile with one of his own, and as he leans down for a kiss, her breath is warm, so warm against his lips.

[mermaidgirl30]

Wip Wednesday!

Thank you for the tag @mountainsandmayhem 💕 Not letting today take away from my fun and writing! I’m working on chapter 3 of Saving What Was Lost. I’ve still got quite a bit to conjure up, but it’s getting there!

Without thinking, you grab on to the end of Joel’s flannel and tug it toward you, digging your fingers into the soft cotton as if it’s a safety blanket. The smell of fresh firewood and green grass envelops your senses and for the moment, everything becomes a little more quiet.

“You keep tuggin’ on my flannel and you’re gonna pull it right off,” Joel chuckles, giving you a small smile as he looks back at you.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, dropping your fingers as if you just upset him.

“Don’t gotta apologize. You jus’ hang on if that’s what you need right now.”

You slowly reach back up and flex your fingers around the blue material, peeking up hesitantly beneath your lashes. “Your flannel, it smells like the forest. Reminds me of the mountains in Washington. It umm… it calms me down.”

“Well then, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Those pools of honey liquid melt you on the spot; his warm smile takes the edge of fear off your chest for just that moment. And when that whiff of autumn from his white t-shirt floats through the air, it’s like he saved you all over again.

He drops his hands from the shopping cart and starts unbuttoning his flannel, carefully shrugging it off his broad shoulders as you stare blankly up at him. And then, he’s holding out the faded blue material to you.

No pressure tags and to anyone who wants to participate 🩷 @beardedjoel @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @guiltyasdave

@joelspeach @pedrospatch @joelstummy @bageldaddy @alltheirdamn

@burntheedges @almostfoxglove @almostempty @bluestar22x @604to647 @magpiepills @frenchiereading @lotusbxtch

[skyrim-forever]

WIP WEDNESDAY

It's Wednesday again, let's see them wips <3 I was tagged by @ladytanithia for a wip whenever yesterday, thank you friend!

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @umbracirrus @changelingsandothernonsense

@bougainvillea-and-saltwater @pocket-vvardvark @firefly-factory @hircines-hunter @captain-of-silvenar

I'd like to give a special shoutout to @lillxart who got me thinking more about the fun little emotion that is jealousy and I decided I wanted to tackle it more in-depth than I have before. Also was missing writing from Ondolemar's pov and he's at his best denying his feelings so here's a snippet from before they have confessed <3 Under the cut because somewhat suggestive, mostly angst:

So caught up in his own mental groveling, what she says next is nearly missed. “I would love to know if you find anything interesting about them, I’ll confess I don't know much about the Dwemer. More familiar with the Ayelids, my father had an interest."

“Perfectly understandable, the Dwemer never went as far south as Cyrodiil.” The young wizard pauses before continuing. “I’ve already got some theories, perhaps we could continue this conversation over dinner? If you’d be interested, of course.”

It comes out of him quickly, words staunch and firm, the authoritarian tone hopefully covers up his desperation. It was unlike him to speak without thinking, let whatever fall from his mouth. Careful, calculated, that is how he was taught to speak. More thought should be put into deciding what to reveal than the physical exertion of saying it. Despite all that training, or perhaps in spite of it, the accusation comes out. 

“You.” The single word is so cutting, far more than it needs to be. The anger in voice should not be directed at her, nor Aicantar who knows not of his crime. It should claim its victim in himself  and it would have, if he had not been struck mad at the thought of her having dinner with someone else. A younger Altmer who was doing what his own younger self set out to do, a scholar; a mer who could be with her, unbound by the confines of oaths and duty. “You have been interfering with official business of the Altmeri Dominion and I am taking you for questioning.” 

Unlike his anger, misplaced and sporadic, hers is properly accessed as she glares at him, burring holes through his very being. Ondolemar knew nothing of dragons. The beasts they say she fought bore little concern on his mind. However, as he guides them back to his quarters, few words said to his guards to explain her presence, he wonders how much truth there is in the tales of their wrath. How much truth is found in the title Dragonborn? Was she like a dragon, could her wrath consume him? 

It’s more unnerving as she is silent on their way, nothing but that agonizing stare to confirm she’s there. Slowly, he shuts the door behind them. Enjoying a few seconds of her company without facing the consequences of what has occurred. 

“What was that?” Every word is a brutal strike and every answer he can give is more pathetic than the next. Though this is no time to be blaise, he does so anyway. An attempt can’t hurt. 

“You were late.” He passes her the goblet poured early, a peace offering, as insignificant as it is. It is rejected. 

“I didn’t realize being late for you to fuck me was a crime, delaying your pleasure counted as interfering with official business.” He deserves the mocking tone as she echoes his words. 

“Given what you have told me I thought you may have been held up by the City Guards. Now I see it was something else.”

“That doesn’t explain what you said. Now the next time I speak with Aicantar I’ll have to fabricate some story because you seem to think your position means you can demand anything you want, at any time.” Her words hit him heavily, settling in his stomach like a thick sludge where sustenance should be. Did she really think that all he was concerned about? Of course she did, he had worked very hard to not let slip any of the borderline romantic thoughts he harboured. Fearful of even thinking of them sober, speaking them aloud would be far too real. 

But she is angry with him and despite their very opposing sides, Ondolemar doesn’t want Theodora angry at him. Their identities as enemies was much better suited for their private activities. Where they still mattered, his position and rank never leaving his mind, but no one to see how he used them to please her. Collecting the right works, he speaks. 

“In the moment I was taken aback when he asked you to dinner and forgot myself.” Her rage quells slightly, what rage leaves is replaced with hurt, her words are layered with pain. 

“Am I not allowed to be asked to dinner?”

“Of course.”

“Then why did you order me away?” He expected her to ask if he was jealous. All the clues point in that direction, it would be easier on him to confirm her conclusion than draw his own. Fearful if he say it he would go even further and inform her that the lack of freedom and autonomy got to him at times. That it did hurt to hear someone else was interested in her and she would not need to hide with him. Taken aback again, this time by her pain and sincerity, he can’t bring himself to tell the truth. 

“I do not know.” It’s a suffocating silence. Distracting himself momentarily, he puts down the rejected peace offering, mentally praying that they will get to share a drink tonight. If she can forgive him for his stupid and barbaric behaviour as well as the fact he cannot provide her an explanation, unable to admit some things to himself. 

“If I saw you with another woman, asking her to dinner or kissing her or even fucking her, I wouldn’t say anything. It’s not my place to.”

There was he wants say. An fruitless endeavour but one nonetheless.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

WIP Wednesday

I got really inspired to write how Simon and Reader meet in Transferrable Skills.

CW: allusions to Fetlife (derogatory affectionate), discussion of kinks

You don’t often use your MyFet beyond finding a group or conference to attend. You periodically clear out your messages, just in case an acquaintance wants to reach out. So you almost delete the message from the anonymous profile on autopilot, but the subject line intrigues you.

Interested in Distance Play, No Punishments - 14 Hrs Ago

Intrigued, you open it because… at least they read a little bit of your profile.

I noticed your profile because of your self-rope pictures. The rest of your profile is very interesting to me - specifically your engagement in solo play and dislike of punishment. I liked the post you made about obedience as an ongoing active choice.

I’m a man in my 30s with a classified job. I travel a lot, and I’m looking for someone to have a strictly long-distance arrangement with. I’m interested in: non-restrictive rope, obedience, behavior modification, praise. I’m sure there’s more, but I’ve written this message six times. Let me know if you’re interested in discussing.

Well, that’s refreshingly straightforward and devoid of unsolicited smut. You read the message again, then click into his profile. G_987654321_ It’s… pretty bare. But if he’s got a classified job, that makes sense, right? Location: Antarctica. His age is listed as 33, and he’s listed himself as dominant and seeking acquaintances and play partners. Not interested in hookups, interested in casual nudity, obedience, praise. Hard limits of degradation and humiliation.

It’s not much more information than the message itself, but it’s more than some of the men who have asked if you want to meet up in private. You review his original message and bite your knuckle. Worst case scenario, he’s some troll who will call you a range of slurs and waste your time, and then you’ll block him. Best case scenario… he means what he says.

What are you looking for? Who, What, When, Where, and Why?

You send the message and log out of the app before you can chicken out. Your inner voice is grumbling (stupid stupid stupid), but that’s normal. You let yourself watch two and a half episodes of your latest show, and then make a hearty dinner.

You’re surprised when you pick your phone back up. One new message.

The whole time you’re cursing the app for glitching and logging you out and forgetting your password, you’re sure it’s not him. Most likely, it’s an event announcement from a friend or a bot. But you like going to events, so it’s worth it.

It’s a message. It’s from him.

Who: You and Me What: Praise-based, goal-oriented obedience play When: Twice weekly when we’re both available, but I won’t always be available. Sometimes weekly, sometimes a greater time between meet ups. Where: Virtual meetings. Video preferred, audio-only acceptable. First couple of discussions will be text based until I can get secure video set up. Why: Mutual relaxation and well being. Sexual connection preferred, but obviously not required.

Having a guide was helpful. Thank you.

Well… That’s something.

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[katyobsesses]

~ WIP Wednesday ~

I'm completely obsessed with my current WIP, a Modern Bridgerton AU! I'm roughly planning to have a story for each Bridgerton sibling, with some of them intertwining. I'm currently writing a rough outline of each story, vaguely following the show (and sometimes incorporating book stuff that might fit) but making it, obviously, modern. So Saphne are going to be a Fake Dating story (I'm thinking actors in a PR relationship) Kanthony are Enimies to Lovers (maybe rival Lawyers? I'm not too sure yet) and Polin are obviously Friends to Lovers! And it is part of the Polin Story (as yet untitled) that I'll be sharing today, because I started re-writing the Carriage Scene and couldn't stop (though I have yet to write the actual smut) and I am incredibly proud of what I have so far

Modern Bridgerton AU - Untitled Polin Story - "Carriage" scene

“Pen, wait!” Colin called as Penelope ran up the staircase, her curls flying behind her and the skirt of her dress fluttering around her legs.

“Not now, Colin,” She responded, slowing slightly as she got to the landing, stopping and taking a heaving breath that turned into a sob she quickly swallowed back.

“Penelope,” Colin whispered, slowly walking up the stairs towards her.

“I don't want to talk, Colin,” She said, her back still to him, and he watched as she straightened, taking a deep stuttering breath and slowly letting it loose. Her sniffles filled the hall, mingling with the distant thump of bass coming from one of her neighbours, but otherwise it was silent as Pen composed herself before turning to him.

She was beautiful, as she always had been, as he'd long taken for granted. Even with reddened eyes and messy mascara, fallen curls and flushed skin, she looked like a work of art. He was sure Benedict would be able to name exactly which, or, rather, he wouldn't, because Penelope was one of a kind.

“Please,” he said imploringly, nodding to the door of her flat, “Let me in?”

She regarded him, looking down from the landing above The overhead light made a halo around her head, [blah blah blah poetry about her standing tall in front of him, him having to look up at her beauty blah blah blah]

She nodded - the mask of composure falling away, letting him see the exhaustion and sad acceptance she was feeling - and turned to open the door. He took the last few steps two at a time, and followed her into the flat. He closed the door behind himself, toeing off his dress shoes and watching as she sighed, her hands running through her hair and snagging on bobby pins. She let out a sound of frustration before grabbing a claw clip from the table by the door and expertly twisting her hair up and away from her face. She leant down to undo the clasp on her shoes, and fumbled, letting out another sound of frustration that caught on a sob.

“Let me,” Colin said, voice soft in the quiet, and gestured to the bench in the hallway. She sat down heavily, and he crouched in front of her, unbuckling the clasp at one ankle, and then another.

“Why did you follow me home?” Penelope asked, as he gently took the first heel from her foot.

“You… you looked distressed, as you left the luncheon,” He answered.

“So you decided to follow me?”

Colin placed the second heel next to the first, neatly, before sitting back on his ankles. He chewed on his lip, before looking up at Penelope.

“What happened, between you and Deb?” He asked.

A silence stretched.

“Its odd,” Penelope said, swallowing around emotion, “When I asked for your help finding a boyfriend, I didn't think it would end with them breaking up with me, because of you.”

Colin blinked.

“Because he seems to think you have feelings for me,” She let out a disbelieving laugh, closing her eyes and bringing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

Colin's breath caught in his throat, and when he opened his mouth to respond - to say something, anything - the words he'd practiced again and again got caught along with it.

“Which is so ridiculous all I can do is laugh,” Penelope voice caught on the last word, the disbelieving laughter of before turning wet, “Now will you please just leave me to wallow alone?”

“I can't,” Colin breathed, his lungs aching with the effort of finally talking.

“Please!” Penelope practically begged, and Colin's nerves snapped.

“I can't,” He insisted, “Because…”

All of the speeches he'd written - in journals, on his notes app, in his mind - burst into his mind [change to something else] and he stumbled through the plethora of words. He looked down at the small flowers that adorned Penelope's dress, composing himself and his words, before looking back up. He met her eyes, bright with both unshed tears and…

Hope.

His resolve strengthened, and the words that tumbled over each other in his mind became clear.

“What if I did have feelings for you?” He said, the words a question but the answer clear. Or so he hoped.

“What?” The disbelief in Penelope's voice pierced his heart, denting and almost breaking it.

He sorted though the words, settling on the best to convey his feelings, before kneeling up, leaning closer to Penelope and taking her hands in his.

“I have spent so long,” He began, eyes locked on hers, “Trying to feel less, trying to be more like my brothers, and for a moment I thought I had succeeded,” He looked down, the intensity of Penelope's gaze making his heart thump in his chest, drowning out the music that floated through the walls from Penelope's neighbour.

“But the last few months,” He continued, watching his hands curl with Penelope's against the floral backdrop of her skirt, “Have been filled with feeling. Feelings like the total inability to stop thinking about…”

He looked up at her again, blue eyes meeting blue.

“You.”

The confession came out in a breathy whisper, and Colin watched Penelope’s eyes alight with hope once again, before shuttering. A wall separating her heart from his words, as if afraid they would end up breaking it. He never wanted to break her heart, quite the opposite in fact. He wanted to hold it gently next to his, to nurture it and show her that she did not have to settle for someone like Debling - someone who planned to leave her behind, someone who planned to gallivant around the world without her on his arm.

“About that kiss,” He continued, shaking his head with a soft laugh, “A kiss that I have been dreaming about every night since it happened. For months I have felt disappointment upon waking, I’ve started to prefer sleep, because in my dreams I am with you. In my dreams we are together,” His words had started to quicken, and he sensed a ramble incoming.

He wanted to tell her about every single dream he could remember - Dreams of the two of them on a beach in Greece, the sun shining off of her hair and painting freckles across her nose and over her shoulders. Dreams of her dressed in elaborate dresses as they danced at elaborate balls straight out of period dramas and fairy tales. Dreams of the two of them lounging on his sofa, his apartment now adorned with artwork he knew hung in her bedroom, a throw he had watched her crochet wrapped around their shoulders, as they watched Daphne and Simon act on screen. Dreams of her laid out against his sheets…

He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes against the visions of her, before opening them again and gazing at the real thing.

“They’re damn near torturous,” He told her, sincerity lacing his words, “They way they have given me so much hope, before the disappointment of reality sets in. But it is a feeling that I cannot, will not, do not want to give up.”

“Please,” Penelope shook her head, closing her eyes, “Don't say things you don't mean.”

He squeezed her hands, eyes mapping her face as he waited for hers to re-open. The thumping bass from next door got louder, the pace of it matching the quickness of his heartbeat.

Finally her eyes opened again, and met his.

“But I do mean it,” He told her, simply but with feeling. He smiled up at her, softening his gaze, “Its everything I've been wanting to say to you for… months.”

“But Colin,” She said, eyes darting over his face, “We’re friends.”

“Yeah but we…” he trailed off, brow furrowing as he took in her serious expression. He open and closed his mouth a few times, trying to get his words back into some semblance of order. But they were scattered to the wind once again.

“Right, of course, I'm sorry,” He looked away from Penelope, beginning to untangle his hand from hers, “I don't know what I was thinking! Pretend I didn't sa-”

“-But I’d very much like to be more than friends,” She interrupted him.

Colin's head snapped up, his sharp intake of breath catching in his throat. Penelope's eyes sparkled with mirth, her lips quirked in a smirk that turned into a soft smile as the muffled music swelled to a peak.

“So much more,” she continued, and Colin surged forward as the bass dropped.

He captured Penelope's lips with his.

[sabulana]

WIP Wednesday

I don't have a lot of time for writing thanks to The Child, but when I do it's usually one of these three WIPs, all Dead Boy Detectives fics. Thought I'd share some snippets for WIP Wednesday in the hopes that it will keep my motivation up.

Absolution (Working title for the Simon redemption fic)

“But how am I supposed to go on to whatever Afterlife there is for me if he's still got Hell hanging over his head?” asked Simon.  Death shrugged. “There's always choices. You can have a personalised, peaceful Afterlife, whatever that looks like for you, or there's reincarnation, where you get another chance at life, maybe do things better next time around. You've already done your time in Hell, so that's out.” “Would I know what I did, if I reincarnated?” Simon asked. Death shook her head. “Nope. I mean, there's a few who do get some memories to carry over but mostly, it's one life and one set of memories to make. You wouldn't remember Edwin or anything else.” “Then I'm not reincarnating,” Simon said. “And I can't go on to whatever peace there is, not when Edwin can't.” “His Afterlife, whatever form that would take, wouldn't necessarily align with yours, you know,” Death said. She sounded amused, of all things. “You wouldn't see him again.” “It's not about that!” Simon snapped, even as he realised that arguing with Death herself was probably a bad idea. “it's just not right that I can go on to — to, what, to Heaven? And he can't because of me! Isn't there another option?” “There are rules even I can't break, you know,” Death said. She eyed him speculatively. “But there are some I can choose to ignore, once in a while and some I can bend. You're sure you don't want to just go on and find your peace?” “I was punished for my cruelty, my guilt and my shame,” Simon said. “But I don’t think that means I’ve atoned for my actions. If there’s anything else I can do, to do some good instead, then I want to do that.” “In that case, why don't you work for me?” Death suggested.

It Must Be Love (Self indulgent Payneland getting together fic)

“What's up?” Crystal asked, pausing her movie. “Just…wanted to make sure things are clear between us,” Charles said, taking a seat on the armchair next to her.  Crystal shifted, setting the popcorn to one side and giving him her full attention. “Charles?” “It's just… what happened between us in Port Townsend. I just… want to make sure we're on the same page, right?” Charles dropped his gaze, feeling awkward. “Uh. Yeah, I suppose we should talk about that. I was. Kind of avoiding it, honestly,” Crystal confessed. “I don't want to hurt you. I've hurt enough people already, and I don't want to lose one of the first genuine friends I've ever had.” Charles looked up at her, plastering a smile on. “Can't be that bad, can it? I mean, I know we kissed back in Port Townsend but we haven't since you said goodbye in the butcher shop and. Uh. I'm okay with that. If we just… leave that stuff in Port Townsend. Not that I don't think you're brills or anything!” he rushed to add on. “‘Cause you are but I don't think it's a good idea to keep on, you know?” “Oh, thank god,” Crystal said, flinging herself back on the sofa. “I was terrified you wanted more.” “Oi!” Charles said in mock offence. “What do you mean, terrified?”

Untitled Poltergeist?Charles fic (AU where Charles dies alone, and Crystal attends St. Hilarions as a student, eventual Payneland probably)

Crystal kept half an eye on the crowd, in case anyone told her off for being there instead of at the girls’ dormitory. That was the only reason she noticed one of the boys breaking away from the crowd. No one spoke to him or called put as he wandered away, hands in his pockets. Crystal wondered if he was like her, a new student who hadn't yet made friends. He seemed to know where he was going though, walking around the back of the building and ending up walking the path in front of Crystal. She debated turning around. She didn't want to be accused of following anyone when she was just walking. But then again, she was just walking, and maybe there would be a fork in the path and she could go one way and the boy the other. Didn't have to be anything strange or awkward about it. So Crystal kept walking, and unintentionally following the boy in front. She couldn't make out any details. A slim build and black hair, but that was it. He had patches and pins on his coat like some kind of punk, but she couldn't make out what they were. For the next few minutes, she ended up trailing behind him, slowing her pace so she didn't catch up and have to deal with the awkwardness of passing him when she had no actual destination in mind. Even so, she was still close enough to see when he strayed from the path towards an old building by the treeline.  And she was close enough to see when he walked through the door. Without opening it. Crystal stopped. “Fuck.” She turned around and walked back the way she came. Fuck this. Of course her parents would send her to a fucking haunted school. Well, tough shit. She was not getting involved with ghosts and demons and any other supernatural bullshit, especially not when the term hadn't even started yet.

I've got enough written of these three that I could post a chapter each to AO3 but everything is so irregular right now and I don't want to post something I might not be able to finish.

[numptypylon]

“Rayla is… not my lovebug.”

“Oh ho, now?" Nyx leaned obnoxiously close, her eyebrows raising. "Have you told her that?”

“She told me," Callum said, angry all over again suddenly that... she actually hadn't told him that and yet they weren't- "So I’m tentatively assuming that she knows.”

“Oh ho? So she broke up with you and yet you’re still adventuring together, risking your lives for each other, making love eyes at each other at every opportunity… ah, to be young and in love and a garbage fire of collective awkwardness of such radiance as to light up the heavens-”

“Yeah!” Ezran agreed, walking up to them. Oh no. Hopefully Nyx would tone down the… everything… around an 11-year-old, but… considering he had been 14 himself when he’d first encountered Nyx, he didn’t have high hopes. “It’s gross and they’re so dumb, and here I am, a doomed onlooker!"

“You got the family braincell, I see,” Nyx said, winking at Ezran.

Ezran nodded sagely. “My blessing and my curse, ‘tis true.”

Really?! Did Ez really have to form an alliance with every new person they met to tag-team roast him?!

Nyx turned away from Ezran, her unwanted attention firmly back on him now. “I still need the full status update on my favorite dysfunctional lovebugs!” Nyx would keep prodding, and Callum didn’t want her to prod Rayla- “You know there’s another ex-lovebug who could tell me-“ Did he just curse that idea into Nyx’s head?! “But you’re currently the less puke-smelling option, so…"

Nyx really didn't subscribe to the idea of sensitive subjects you should keep your trap shut about.

“We… broke up. Like you said.” One way to say it. But he wasn’t giving Nyx any ammunition to use against Rayla. “Then made up. Kind of. We’re friends, just not… lovebugs.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“What friends do you have?” Ezran asked, all wide-eyed, vicious innocence. “Do you not consider friendship a benefit?”

“Hey!” Nyx looked insulted. “I thought we were allies against yon magus of maladroit you tragically must call brother?”

“My allegiances are many and inscrutable!” Ez stuck his tongue out at Nyx.

“’Allegiances’? ’Inscrutable’? Sheesh, kid, how old are you? And what awful, terrible company do you keep?!”

“11. And… politicians.”

“Oh no, you’re serious?! Oh kid, the depths of my condolences is one of them yawning chasms of endless screaming-“

“Oi?!” Villads yelled. “Matey? Riggin’ snagged!”

“I don’t hold court with betrayers, anyway,” Nyx said, incredibly hypocritically for someone who’d stranded them in a desert, and she pushed off the deck and was airborne, heading off towards the center mast.

“What is the benefit of being ‘friends with benefits’?” Ezran asked, looking around to Callum and then Soren, who had just arrived with Hat perched on his head. “The friendship is pretty obviously a benefit of being friends without having to say it, so I know it isn’t that, I just said that because Nyx was being mean.”

“Oh, I know!” Soren said, eagerly. “It’s s-“

“Sandwiches!” Callum cut him off. “Sandwiches, Soren! Remember?”

“Riiiiight!” Soren winked, exaggeratedly. “Sandwiches. Got it. Corvus makes the best bread sandwich, extra mayonnaise-“

“Please, Soren,” Callum choked. “Please, let’s… talk about something else. Anything else. Please.”

———

Excerpt from an upcoming chapter of my S4-6 between-canon-episodes fic, Downtime’s Up (successor to my S1-3 between-canon-scenes fics Downtime in Wartime and Upside Downtime)

It’s wednesday and I have many wips I want to work on and no time, but I DO also have a lot of stuff written and not posted, so… hope you enjoyed some overgrown pigeon time and depraved sandwich innuendos. Once I get past the next 4 chapters of Downtime’s Up, I have most of the rest of the story written, just… it’s been rough going to write anything lately

[lotusbxtch]

WIP Wednesday - SoCal to NorCal Ch 2

Oh hi there! Thanks @mermaidgirl30 for tagging me. I’ve been super busy with work and my upcoming wedding (only days away!) so I haven’t been writing much, but I wanted to give y’all a taste of what’s to come for my SCNC series’ second chapter. Y’all have been waiting for Joel to show up and… well, baby he IS.

Settling into the plush bed, you grab your phone to catch up on messages missed during the drive when it starts buzzing. Joel’s name flashes onto the screen, and you hit the green Facetime button to accept the video call.

“Hey, baby,” you coo, grinning widely as Joel’s handsome face appears on your screen. His hair is damp and slicked back, likely fresh out of the shower just like Frankie will be in a few minutes. The headboard of the bed you share with Joel sits behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”

Joel chuckles. “What, can’t a man call his pretty little wife just to see her face and tell her that he loves her?”

You giggle. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason.” His eyes soften, and then flick down the screen.

“I see you’re wearing that sundress I like so much,” Joel muses.

You smile, extending the arm holding your phone so he can see more of your body. “Oh, this little number?” You shift onto your knees, spreading them wide and running your other hand teasingly slow from your collarbone, down the slope of your breast, across your waist, and then down your thigh, retracing your path slightly to lift the hem of the skirt. “Frankie hadn’t seen it before, and he likes it just as much as you do.” Your cheeks flush at the memory of Frankie taking you in the car, and Joel hums lowly when you break eye contact with him.

“Did you and Frankie get up to some fun earlier, baby?” You pause, unsure of where this is going, and then nod your head.

“Words, sweetheart,” Joel reminds you.

“Yes, Joel,” you whisper breathlessly.

He nods approvingly, a small smirk gracing his lips. “I could tell, you got that faraway look in your eyes like you do when you’re thinking about me fucking you.” Joel shifts his seat on the bed, and you recognize the movement as a sign that he’s getting turned on. This is a new development, you think to yourself. He’s rarely asked about sex with Frankie before.

“Did Frankie treat your pussy right? Did he fill you up?” You nod again, your core beginning to pulse as you affirm with your words, and Joel groans.

“Let me see it.”

You choke on your breath. “What?”

This was not something Joel had ever asked before.

“You heard me, darlin’,” Joel asserts, his eyes darkening. “Let me see that pretty pussy full of Frankie’s cum.”

👀🤭😘

You lovelies are in for a treat!

NP tags: @mountainsandmayhem @sin-djarin @nerdieforpedro @for-a-longlongtime @alltheirdamn

@qveerthe0ry @morallyinept @guiltyasdave @jolapeno @joelstummy

@moonlitbirdie @penvisions @cuppajoel