#a symphony of hearts wip

[seiya-starsniper]

Last Line Tag Game

Tagged by @silver-dream89 and @valeriianz like a month ago oops

My brain has been soup about some of my WIPs but seeing as we still have some time left in WIP Wednesday, this is a perfect time to share some snippets 😄

Have a snippet from Chapter 2 of A Symphony of Hearts. Beware, ANGST.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Morpheus practically shouts. Hob flinches back for only a moment, but soon straightens his back, glaring as he steps towards Morpheus.   “It is my business, actually,” Hob argues back. It’s clear he’s angry too, but unlike his father, Hob is far more in control of his emotional state, which makes him far more intimidating. “You’re both in my home, and you’re being an asshole to both me and my friend, so maybe you should calm down.” “I am calm! You’re the one being unreasonable,” Morpheus yells. “I should report you to the board of the university, there’s clearly a conflict of interest in how you perform your job,” he adds, and that’s when Orpheus loses his temper entirely.  “This is why I don’t fucking talk to you!” Orpheus screams, causing both Hob and Morpheus to jump in surprise. “You’re such an asshole, and you're a shit father! In fact, you know what, Hob’s a better father to me than you’ll ever be!” Orpheus then turns on his heel and flees the kitchen, leaving Hob and Morpheus to sort out the mess he’s left behind in his wake. 

Tagging with no pressure: @kydrogendragon @sleepsonfutons @beauty-of-nyx @tj-dragonblade

[torawro]

QUIET PERCEPTION. ( neuvillette )

neuvillette x plus size!fem!reader

cw ━━ ! minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written as plus sized/thick, and also as a black woman but you do not have to imagine it as such, anyone is welcome to read. fiancé!reader. just fluffy, lovey dovey stuff <3 neuvi still actively trying to understand him being completely in love with you and the fact you love him back. neuvillette is (un)intentionally is romantic and charming. use of endearment terms in french ( i so desperately wanted to be creative with pet names but i'm still tryna get a read on his character so i decided to play it safe LMAO). some locations (i.e. where neuvilette lives) may not be canon; i just pulled info from different sites. somewhat proofread.

word count ━━ ! 2.06k

notes ━━ ! this'll be something short n sweet <3 i could have sworn that i've written about a genshin character before but looking back, it seems as if i was mistaken :D i definitely have several concepts/wips about genshin charas but i never got to finish them so . . . . here's to my first genshin piece 🥂 i imagined my first would be abt zhongli or diluc ( bc i adore them until the end of time ) but fate has changed <3 this handsome gorgeous man came out of nowhere and captured my heart and won't let go. @gabzlovesu , i actually did it :)

THE STEADY STREAM OF pouring water was the only constant sound that resonated throughout the spacious estate of the Chief Justice of Fontaine. The extravagant windows had the blinds drawn, so the luminescence of the moon was free to shine as it pleased, and take a peek inside the many walls of the home of the ludex.

Inside the master bedroom laid the Chief Justice himself, and you, his dearest fiancé, wrapped securely and loving in his arms.

Well, you were wrapped in his arms.

The space where you were previously laid would soon be vacant, as you found yourself having odd, after-midnight cravings of a certain kind of tea. Despite your obvious sleepiness and exhaustion, your brain would not rest, and kept generating memories about the last time you've had the pleasure to make yourself this beverage and imagined how good it would taste at this hour of the night.

When all is quiet, in sound and in mind, one would have more of an opportunity to really savor something. You reasoned that the tea was bound to taste even better if you drank it now, which was all the motivation you needed to gently maneuver yourself from underneath your fiancé's rather anchored hold on you. It took you quite some time to do so because you didn't want to wake him up. For someone that worked the way he did, he deserved as much undisturbed rest as possible.

Adjusting the bonnet on your head, you slid your bare feet into your slippers that sat at the corner of your bed. The hard marble and tile floors were a lot colder at night when they couldn't be warmed up by the rays of the sun.

You took your time making your way to the kitchen and pantry area. The manner in which you ambled about the corridors━ your cream colored night gown wading at your ankles, flowing with each step you took━ made you akin to a ghost in a haunted mansion.

Once you reached your destination, you went straight ahead and grabbed all the ingredients you would need at a leisurely pace, taking more fulfillment in making a simple cup of tea than you normally do. Usually, you would have thought the whole process was annoyingly long-winded, but this time it was different.

Maybe it's because it was quiet. Your mind was quiet. Your heart was quiet; there was no rush. You allowed yourself to relax, to bask in the tranquility of the moment.

The soft clinks of metal and porcelain, as well as the delicate sound of your humming voice, were added onto the noises of the rushing fountains.

All of the noises were symphonious with each other, to the point where they all merged into one. Soon you were entirely engulfed in your current task and the little noises that filled the air.

And perhaps too engrossed, because you were unable to sense the presence of Neuvillette, who had shifted slightly in his sleep only to notice you had disappeared. He wouldn't be able to, or want to admit it, but the bed you shared turned out to be a little colder in your absence.

"So, here you were," he questioned as he entered, holding a candle in his hand. His voice was a huskier than normal, most likely because he had just woken up from his slumber. You have come to believe over time that the sound of Neuvillette's voice, especially when it was thick with sleep, was the most soothing and melodious sound you would ever have the pleasure of hearing.

Even now, you had to bite back a grin, for the sound of his somewhat deeper voice, and the nature of his statement, caused a giddy feeling to erupt in your stomach. The sensation crawled from your gut and spread across your body like an electric current, and generated a bashful warmth in your face.

"Here, I am," your cheeky reply flowed smoothly from your lips, briefly looking back at him for a moment before grabbing the cocoa powder. "And here I thought I had been as quiet as a church mouse when getting out of bed. Seems I was unfortunately mistaken." The faintest gasp arose from your throat when you suddenly felt your fiancé's body behind you, gently pressing against your back in an effort to embrace you once more.

The Chief Justice knew how to explain and rationalize a lot of things on a many broad subjects, in and outside of the Opera Epiclese of the Fontaine court. But he was at a loss when it came to humans━ specifically and especially when it came to you.

Articulating his feelings for you, trying to fully understand why you felt this way about him in return, and just why he always felt more content when you were this close to him were some things he admittedly struggled to find logical solutions to.

Neuvillette's lips were a hair's breadth away from the upper part of your ear so when he hummed, goosebumps almost immediately erected on the surface of your deep, chestnut skin. His voice, now even lower than before, and the large palm he placed on your torso, startled you to a degree where you nearly spilt all the powder on the counter.

"You should recall how light a sleeper I am. Alas, your attempt to be inconspicuous was all for naught. I'm afraid that nearly anyone would have awoken from all the rustling that resulted from your movements."

You couldn't stop the soft laugh that tumbled past your lips at his subtle jab at your inability to be sneaky. Hearing him say anything resembling a joke at another's expense was certainly rare. "I suppose you're right. It seems my eagerness for tea dulled my usually agile movements."

This time Neuvillette chuckled and shook his head a bit, and his small smile stretched into a wider one when he heard you laugh along with him. The heart that resided in his chest pumped faster and with much more force whenever he heard the sound. He could listen to it all day.

"I'm sorry I woke you up though. I've disturbed you from getting the proper rest you need." You felt the need to apologize, even though it was unlikely your white haired fiancé would ever be upset with your for something like that. "Even more so because I am fully aware of the long day you have ahead of you tomorrow."

Without warning, Neuvillette proceeded to wrap both of his arms around your abdomen and pulled you even closer to his chest. You could feel the ridges and dips of his rather defined and etched stature through the thin satin of your night gown. With little force and much care, he turned you around to that you were now facing him, leaving you no choice but to pause in the stirring of your tea. His hands rested lovingly on your hips and your backside was pressed firmly against the counter.

The space between the two of you remained nonexistent.

"I, too, am aware of the day that awaits me in several hours. But please, do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for."

You were about to reply but Neuvillette silenced whatever it was your were going to say next when he leaned down slightly, and captured your lips in a delicate but amorous kiss. In reality it didn't last for more than three seconds, but to you, in your own little world with this man you got to claim as yours, it felt like it lasted much, much longer.

The effect of time seeming like it slowed down felt even more real when the two of you broke away from each other, and his silvery lavender eyes peered into yours. "Truthfully, I don't mind losing a bit of sleep....if it means that I don't have to wait until the morning to have you look at me like this, and hear your voice again."

Your eyes widened a fraction, not expecting him to say something so affectionate or romantic unprovoked. A fond smile tugged on the corners of your lips, already knowing your mind would be replaying his words for weeks to come over and over again, like a malfunctioning record player.

"Oh, mon amour...." was all you were able to say at the moment, your tone soft and breathy, slightly above a whisper. For as long as you have been with your white haired fiancé, he was still effortlessly capable of causing the butterflies in your stomach to hatch from their cocoons, and fly around in a frenzy.

Neuvillette lifted one hand to palm your cheek, and stroke it slowly with the pad of his thumb. His hand, his body, the look in his eyes were filled with warmth, and you wanted to cherish it for as long as possible. Your hands rested on his chest, and you leaned into his touch as he pecked your lips once and then twice more, for good measure and solely because he desired to feel you against him one more time.

The Chief Justice decided he liked this expression on your face. It suited you quite well, he thought. Right now you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on in his long-standing life.

After a moment, a low chuckle rumbled in the man's chest before leaning forward to peck your temple. "I think I'm craving a bit of tea as well. I'm sure it will quell this newfound thirst that arbitrarily appeared."

Smiling again, you separated from your lover so you can finish on your cup, and so he could get started on his. As you stood side by side, and even as you both finished and made your way back to the master bedroom, you continued to talk to each other about whatever topic lingered in the atmosphere. Anything from the upcoming trial and cases he was overseeing tomorrow, mundane things that you saw on the streets of Fontaine that day, what you had for lunch, and everything else in between was discussed between the two of you.

Before either of you even realized it, the hue of the room turned from colorless dark to a deep cerulean blue, and the songs of the birds reverberated throughout the walls of your bedroom.

It was morning.

"Oh my! Has dawn truly come? And so soon at that...I didn't mean to keep you━"

The words of exclamation were lodged in your throat once more, as you watched him take your hand in his, and placed a feathery kiss on your knuckles and fingers.

"Do not trouble yourself over matters that are not your doing. You need not worry about me, ma douce."

Like a puddle of water that has been sitting in the sun all day, you're felt like you could evaporate just from the intensity of your fiancé's lidded gaze. Sometimes you wondered if he was even aware of his influence on every part of your body.

"Besides, I don't recall ever saying that I intended to leave at this very moment. We still have plenty of time together; the morning has only just begun."

Completely intertwining your hand with his, Neuvillette seamlessly maneuvered you both back onto the soft, inviting sheets, with you conveniently laying on top of him.

His long, snowy hair sprawled from his scalp in all directions making him look majestic with no effort at all. At times, you even found yourself jealous of his beauty. But you wouldn't dare utter such words to him; you'd rather simply admire and even found yourself a little prideful that such a dauntingly beautiful man would be yours forever.

If only you knew that to Neuvillette, you resembled an angel from the Celestial heavens. The sun hasn't risen over the mountains just yet, but your being blinded him, and he found himself never wanting to see another thing again.

Overcome with ardor for you, his hand found its way to the back of your neck to pull your face downward and closer to his, because he was craving another taste of you.

You melted in his touch, and savored the taste of vanilla and crème on his tongue and his hands on your body. The only thing wrong with this moment, was the dawn came too soon.

( # ) ━ since i never wrote for genshin before, i don't have a tag list for it lolz ! but i might as well make one soooo if you wanna join let me know <3 here's the link to my taglist form for my other works <3 @osamwah @smiley-babe y'all would prob like this fdkjdkd

[shady-tavern]

Masterpost

For anyone who wants an easy overview of my stories.

***

Fantasy stories:

Missing Piece

A Deal of Games

Deals and Revelry, Quin's Backstory

Healing Hearts

Vampire's Lullaby: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Drabble

The Tailors on Baker Street, Drabble

Winter Star

The Fall of a God

Learning to give Life

Lich Mage and Melina: Part One and Part Two

Symphony of Song and Music, Drabble

Everything

Amnesiac God-Spouse

Seeking Shelter from the Dragon

The Miracle Dealer

What makes a God

The Royal Oracle

*

Hero and Villain Stories:

Heart Song

A Dash of Villainy within A Hero: Part One and Part Two

Perfect Nemesis: Part One and Part Two

Villain providing an Out for Heroes

Nightshade

Villain Roommate

Silver and Hero: Part One and Part Two

Paint the Town: Part One

*

Space and Aliens:

Going Home

Psychological Warfare Chess on Crack

*

Sneak Peeks for Patreon Stories:

Dancing with Stars

Holding Curses with Gentle Hands

Salt and Iron

Sanctuary

Dark Waters

Woven Magic

Doll House

The Price of a Life

The Magic of Consequences

Heartless

Breaking Chains

Wishmaker

Firsts

For the Living and the Dancing

*

WIPs:

The Shape of a Soul: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

*

Want to read more and support me at the same time? Want more awesome, fun or wholesome stories? Want to lord your support of an artist over your enemy's head as you laugh at them from the top of your metaphorical castle tower?

Or perhaps cackle in the woods while a disgruntled woodcutter shakes their fist at you? Head over to my Patreon or my Ko-Fi!

There will be a new, exclusive short story every month (and occasionally a surprise second one!) while I work on upcoming books and more stories that I will post here!

Also, you get bragging rights. For what, you decide, but I am handing you a blank writ for bragging rights.

[seraphinalovesme]

꩜.ᐟ OUCH! ✧₊⁺ (WIP)

— feat. disassembly drone N x worker drone reader

— content warnings. None :3

— authors note. ¡¡I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE FOR ROBOTS!!, tried my best, I'm new to the fandom.. Literally, I just finished watching the Series today AHAHA Also This Is A Wip Series AHAHAHA

The winter wind howled, a chilling symphony against the otherwise silent landscape. Only the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of shoes on the frozen ground broke the stillness. A robotic figure, sporting a cute hat, walked towards a pod, her friend by her side. You knew you shouldn't be out here, especially with her "project." But a nagging feeling had compelled you to follow, and now, regret gnawed at you. You clutched her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Uzi, we shouldn't be here! It's dangerous! We need to get back behind the doors! Who knows what those murderous drones wi-” Your words died in your throat as you saw the pile of dead robot corpses. The sight sent a shiver of fear down your spine, making your lips tremble. Uzi rolled her eyes and squeezed your hand reassuringly. “C'mon, (Name), don't be a fraidy cat! Besides, we're doing something awesome! C'mon, help me find it. The sooner we get it, the sooner we get out of here!” Uzi grinned, already running towards the spaceship, her eyes scanning the area. You, however, were frozen in place, fear gripping your heart. But Uzi was right; the faster they found it, the faster they could escape.

© seraphinalovesme 2024. All work belongs to @seraphinalovesme can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

[mothmore]

frankenstein spin-off wip (now with art !)

you may have seen a post like this before last month if you follow @petricharme (which you should) , but some of my friends have been working on a frankenstein spin-off story surrounding louis manoir , famous man in our hearts mentioned one singular time in the novel ! they have created a google doc (linked below) with a summarization of the story!

*FMS stands for Forgotten Man’s Symphony, comments on the doc and reblogs are appreciated !

many things on the doc are still subject to change and the story/louis is not fully developed yet and the story is not yet in the actual writing stage. i also highly encourage checking out the other two writers on the story ! there is a FMS discord server you can join , just send petricharme an ask !

i’ve recently started making art for FMS as well! nothing too extravagant yet, mostly just character designs/explorations , but i do have some bigger pieces in mind i wanna start on when i get the chance !

the first two are of our beloved louis , and the last one an experimental sketch of his older brother , lou

and!! additionally, here's the paragraph of manoir's mention, as i think its needed. this is said by elizabeth in her letter in chapter 5 of the 1818 edition:

Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield has already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching marriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already recovered his spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very lively pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much older than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with every body.

[crvcioking]

MASTERLIST

I only write Sebastian Sallow fanfictions. English was my third language and I took a break for several years so I’m rusty. Don’t like my stuff? Don’t read it lmao.

SFW FANFICS

Finding Comfort in You

Catching Teardrops

In This Heartache Lies Silence and Words We’ll Never Confess

NSFW FANFICS | MDNI

Exquisite Hell — My Silver-Tongued Devil

I’ll Fuck the Depression Out of You

WIP

Devour Me Until I Forget

Agonizing Heaven — Cowardice (Seb’s POV for Exquisite Hell)

Fragmented

Breaking Sallow’s Heart

Oh Honey, I Know (As the Misery Extends)

Hatefuck — Our Erotic Symphony

Just a Simple Favor

LINKS FOR OTHER CONTENT

[Memes]

[Videos]

[Screenshots]

[Gifs]

[Quotes]

I’m not a modder sadly as I’m on the PS5. I wish!

[exhuastedpigeon]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Not gonna lie, I've been really struggling to write since I wrote my last fic. It kind of feels like all of my writing beans left me when I posted it, but this lil game makes me really want to write.

How many works do you have on ao3? 155 (holy shit????)

What's your total ao3 word count? 682,114

What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Mostly 9-1-1, but occasionally Teen Wolf stuff

Top five fics by kudos: 1. Queer Robins Club 5246 kudos DC | Mature | 4.9k words

2. Dustin's Dad(s) 3783 kudos Steddie | Teen | 5.2k words

3. give me a sign, I want you next to me 2528 kudos Buddie | Teen | 7k words

4. let me see them tan lines 2399 kudos Buddie | Teen | 2.8k words

5. On the Ropes 2349 kudos Sterek | Teen | 5.4k words

Do you respond to comments? Yes! I try to respond to every comment!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? With a Whimper probably. It's also the only first person POV fic I've ever written lol.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Basically all of my fics have happy/hopeful endings? Maybe there ain't no turning back?

Do you get hate on fics? I have before but not recently!

Do you write smut? I do :)

Craziest crossover: Back Alley Deals is a crossover between Batman and Teen Wolf where Stiles goes to Gotham and ends up hooking up with Jason Todd.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yeah a couple times in the Sterek fandom! I don't found out because some friends found them.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! A few of them have been. I'm always open to translations.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! There was a Jaytim WIP exchange last year that I took part in.

All time favourite ship? I can't pick one? Either Sterek or Buddie probably.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Right now it feels like all of them, but probably my fic affectionately titled The Repression Symphony where I go through the movements of a symphony and dive into Eddie's religious trauma.

What are your writing strengths? I think dialogue and descriptions probably.

What are your writing weaknesses? Endings are hard!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I don't really do it because I only speak English I don't want to use google translate to write it.

First fandom you wrote in? Harry Potter

Favourite fic you've written? I can't pick one!!!

give your heart and soul to charity Teen | 12.5k | Buddie Eddie finally address his Catholic trauma and guilt.

lay your cards down, down, down Mature | 6.3k | Buddie Buck and Eddie wake up married in Vegas

there ain't no turning back Explicit | 28.3k | Buddie Buddie healing road trip, my beloved

every road and every highway led me right back to your door Teen | 2.5k | Sterek A woman gives Derek a baby and then turns to mist, he calls Stiles.

it hurts to hope for more Mature | 15.6k | Buddie Buck experiences a major non-romantic heartbreak and is forced to look at his life in a new way.

Tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @wikiangela

@jesuiscenseedormir @cal-daisies-and-briars @bi-buckrights @neverevan

No pressure tagging @rosieposiepuddingnpie @inell @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns

@elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @shitouttabuck @thekristen999 @thewolvesof1998

@acountrygirlsfun @actualalligator @tizniz @rainbow-nerdss @eddiebabygirldiaz

@generatorcat @glaciya @withmyteeth @loserdiaz @monsterrae1

@spotsandsocks @underwaterninja13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @jesuisici33 @wildlife4life

and anyone else who wants to share!

[korizzybee]

The Sun & The Sea Masterlist

She, a sun, on a stage of gilded light, "The prodigy," they whispered, day and night. He, a steady sea, carved from rugged stone, Built his own haven, a place called his own.

One fateful glance, across a crowded room, Her sunlit world, his depths, in sudden bloom. She saw the strength, in his steady, ocean gaze, He saw the sun, yearning for simpler days.

A love unspoken, a sun, a sheltering sea, Yet in their hearts, a whispered symphony. For even suns seek solace, a place to freely shine, And find their harbor, in a love eternally entwined.

- poem explanation

- warning: in this fic reader is described to have freckled skin (personal hc that all Apollo children have freckles), dark skin, and curly hair.

Season 1

- chapter 1

- chapter 2 (WIP)

[chronicallyonlinewriter]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag, @sixhours! Here's a very small snip from the next chapter of As Long as You Follow:

He’d braced himself for the worst; for the sight of her raw grief, for tear-streaked cheeks and a rigid gate, for hands that trembled just as they had at the dam. Her eyes were still rimmed with red, her face blotchy, but when their gazes met she offered a smile – a genuine smile – filled with a warmth that reached her eyes and tugged at his heart. Without a word she hoisted herself back into her saddle, and when he reached out to hand the reins back she wrapped her hand around his wrist and forced him closer to her, leaning across the space between their horses and pressing her forehead against his. For a fleeting moment, the world shrank to the space between them. Everything else disappeared; the horses' startled snorts, the symphony of crickets, all faded into insignificance. There was only the dizzying pressure of her skin against his, the mingled scent of sweat and something more sour, overlaid with the subtle, sweet perfume of her hair and a hint of lilac, all of it filling his senses – until she drew back from him, her eyes locking onto his. “Okay," she breathed, her voice the first thread to pull him back to the present, each syllable bringing with it the reemergence of the cricketsong. “Now we can go home.”

Tagging: @bumblepony @mote-of-star-dust @two-birds-alone-together @lauronk and @march-flowerr (and whoever else wants to share).

[dr-demi-bee]

@/abysskeeper tagged me in another writing WIP game and I feel like breaking all the rules so... (I didn't directly tag you in case the latter half of this is uh...not for you? But maybe it is. In which case, yay!) Here is a dump of blurbs for things in the works from Dr. D! Not-so Wild Shape

Tav slips inside his tent whisper quiet on little paws, noting Astarion lounging with his back to her, nose in a book. She spies her prize across the tent -a pile of ill-gotten baubles- and slinks that way. She's nearly there when the world suddenly shifts. "No no no, absolutely not." Astarion hefts her into the air by her armpits before she can grab hold of any of his pilfered trinkets. "The dog is bad enough. I will not tolerate cat hair and muddy paw prints inside my tent." He plops her unceremoniously onto the dirt just outside his tent, though she lands easily on all four. "Try your little experiment somewhere else, thief." Tav turns back to glare at him, flicking her tail in agitation. "Yes, yes, you're very cute, darling." He shoos her, "Now go."

Service and Worship are not Love

“Easy, Tav, relax! You're alright,” Gale soothes in her ear, holding her tight in his arms. Even through her light armor, Gale can feel how her heart pounds frenetically, how her whole body quakes. “You're safe, it's okay. Breathe,” “We have to leave-” Tav's voice is whisper quiet and full of panic. She sounds so young and scared. “We can't stay! We have to go -”

[NSFW Snippets below, 18+ only!]

Service and Worship are not Love

“Ahn- Gods-” “Who are you praying to, my love?” Gale asks between delicious lavishing strokes of his tongue, “No one is here but you and me. And I don't intend to share.”

When the Invite Arrives

“I can be quiet,” Tav whispers. Gale arches a brow, then teases his fingers feather-light across her breast. Tav lets out a soft moan despite herself. “No, you can’t,” he grins. Voice soft and low, he leans close to her ear, “Normally, I quite adore drawing a symphony from you, my love. But we aren't exactly in a position to indulge in that desire of mine just now.” The soft brush of his words and his beard against the sensitive shell of her ear makes her shudder. “I'll be good,” Tav whimpers, trying her best to bite back another cry when he repeats his teasing motion across her other nipple, “I promise.” Gale groans, his voice pitching ever lower, “Begging is not being quiet, Tav.”

In the After

“I find I am willing to do quite a lot for you, my love. More than I ever believed myself capable of.” Tav hums in pleasure, reveling in the feel of his closeness and the tenderness of his words. She sucks on the skin at the base of his collar, and punctuates her words with a rough grind of her hips. “And I you, husband.” Gale moans in earnest now. “I believe you may be torturing me now, love.”

[seiya-starsniper]

Fic Talk!

tagged by @tryan-a-bex, thank you dear, I loved reading your answers! 💖

How many wips do you have currently?

Hnnnnnnnnngh I have no goddamn clue lmao. My two publishing WIPs are Six Degrees of Separation and Set the Night on Fire. For WIPs I have yet to publish....Let's say less than 20 but more than 10

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish? Why do you think that is?

Set the Night on Fire by a landslide lmao. I haven't updated it since October of last year. What's crazy is that I have the whole fic outlined, but I've been struggling to actually write the last two chapters. I actually finally picked it back up this month after letting it languish for months. I do think that outlining it in detail completely derailed my ability to write the fic itself. My dumb lizard brain thinks the fic is actually done because the outline is done LMAO.

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

Pure, unhinged mania lmao. If I get an idea I will drop everything to write it. Unless I'm driving. But even when I'm driving, I'm mentally writing the fic in my head and then jotting things down as soon as I'm able to look at my phone. The other day I wrote a 2k fic in four hours. I wrote the first chapter of A Symphony of Hearts while eating my lunch at my desk at work, and Message Not Delivered an hour after reading the tumblr post that inspired it. I'm very good at writing short fic for certain, but lord help me if I want to write anything longer than 2-3k lmao.

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

Nope! Never got into it. The closest I got was when I was writing and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. And...the playlist was just me looping the entire reputation album by Taylor Swift so I don't think that really counts LOL.

That said...for my fics that do have song lyric titles, there's an almost 100% chance that I was looping just that one song over and over again while writing the fic. Because you know, the ADHD 😅😅😅

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organised?

Balls to the wall. Absolute chaos. There's no order to my madness, truly. Even my outlines are chaos.

no pressure tags: @five-and-dimes @kydrogendragon @bazzybelle @blueberrymffn @tj-dragonblade

@rriavian @aisalynn @the-apocrypha

[phading]

Hi, it's me!

Okay, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. So just in case you’re in the least bit interested:

I try very, very hard never to read incomplete fics. Purely selfish, and the result of reading far too many heart-grabbing stories that never got finished. If you need kudos or encouragement or anything else to continue, I’m here and over the moon excited to read anything you’d like to throw at me. Just let me know what you want in return - comments, critique, suggestions, hugs, encouragement, emojis, whatever ...

I posted one fic a chapter at a time, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again.

Characterization is everything.

If you’ve noticed an absence of Brains, Grandma, Lady P, Havoc, etc… in my fics it’s because I don’t give a twit. Perhaps one day I will evolve beyond this simplistic state.

I suck at prompts, challenges and deadlines. My muse is never in the right headspace at the right time.

I have a ridiculous need to keep it believable when really, the stuff that goes on in the show – no matter how much I adore it – is often somewhat miraculous.

It’s the future, people, I’m allowed to invent things.

In real life, I write kids’ books.

To the best of my knowledge, I’m the oldest member of the Thunderfam. Challenge me if you think you can claim the title.

The first thing of importance I ever wrote was a full length Star Trek Next Gen novel which I submitted to a few select New York publishers (oh, the innocence of youth) . Surprise, surprise, many of them actually read it and sent back comments written on famous restaurant napkins.

So, in light of all of the above, I’m once again doing my own thing. Inspired by the recent “10 opening lines from 10 recent fics” post I’m changing it up to “10 opening lines from 10 WIPs”.  I mean, seriously, I’m a newbie here and have far more WIPs than I do finished fics. So here’s what’s – pray to the anti-depression, anti-chronic pain gods  – coming up …

A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERFICIAL The uniform discarded in a heap on the floor outside the showers was expected – the purple neoprene wasn’t. (Virgil, Scott, shaping up to be humour)

THE LAST ZOO ON EARTH “Say again, John. I thought you said we have a situation at a zoo.” (All brothers, major rescue, major whump, pissed off Gordon)

THERE ARE NO CANNIBALS ANYMORE “Sir! I need you to calm down!” (Hurt Virgil, this one could go graphic in a hurry)

IT DOESN’T HURT Virgil glanced up from the piano keys, searching for inspiration but instead witnessing his fish brother's spectacular dive off the board – a dive that would leave his re-built back in shambles. (Fishtank, chronic pain)

TIGHT ROPE “I’m sorry, John, but if she’s dumb enough to try and pull off this ridiculous stunt, I see no reason why we should save her from her own stupidity.” (rescue gone sideways)

STARSTUCK Alan Tracy had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. (Hurt Virgil, guilty Alan, Thunderbird 3 whump)

STELLAR “Hey, John, what’s this?” “It’s personal, that’s what it is!” (Guilty John, comatose Gordon, poetry, John has a secret)

CASPIAN John Tracy blinked open his eyes, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face. (John, OC-John’s lover, angst, Marks and Wings, John is not only a telepathic Ave but he’s bi!)

PSYCHOTIC MEDIUMS The probe entered Earth’s solar system broadcasting a symphony of alien sound that instantaneously drove the half-a-million or so humans who were listening insane. (Virgil centric, angst, sci-fi)

THE JOHN-CODE “Hey, Eos, you wanna help me test this new game?” (Alan, John, Eos, virtual games gone wrong.)

[moonstrider9904]

Abundance

Part 2 of Bread and Tea

{series masterlist} {join my taglist} {ao3 link} {wattpad link}

Summary: Christmas Eve is in the air, as is the snow and the winter chill. You’re baking an apple pie before your cozy holiday festivities begin, and someone’s sneaking bites from the filling.

Tags/Warnings: No warnings, this is just pure fluff, soft!Crosshair, domestic Crosshair, baking, coziness, and my closest attempt at a Moonstrider Holiday Special lol

A/N: I made some apple pie in advance for Christmas Eve (I’m writing this on Dec. 23rd) and thought of this story idea. I was initially going to write a Moonlight series short story, but then I remembered I had this series among my WIPs and it felt so fitting and so right that I rushed up here to write it once all the baking was done. It’s self-indulgent as ever, so I hope you’ll enjoy some soft!Crosshair in a holiday setting. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy New Year!

Word count: 2k

The song that inspired this was Abundance by Chris Mazuera, because I love listening to this cozy song whenever I’m baking something. Enjoy!

A preheating oven was exactly what the cottage needed.

The fireplace was your most reliable friend in the winter when the cottage got chilly, but the oven was still unmatched, as if it were your very own secret weapon. Whether you needed comfort, warmth, or a food craving needed to be satisfied, it never failed you. The smell of the recently made apple filling, a combination of cinnamon and butter and sugar and maple syrup—your secret ingredient—alongside those ripe, honey crisp apples, blended with the scent of the oak wood crackling in the chimney.

It was like a symphony to you. It was like home.

You turned the stovetop off and let the apple filling rest on its pot, hopefully allowing it to cool down enough while you worked on the crust. You’d be kneading and folding and spreading dough for a while, all in your carefully figured out system that came after years and years of baking. Apple pie was more of a tradition than a recipe now, so much that you didn’t even need the cookbook handy anymore. You knew that recipe well-enough by heart now. So you let the filling rest and cool and you turned your back on it, now facing the kitchen island where your dough was sitting ready for you to work on it.

Dough work took up all of your concentration, or most of it at least. Usually, you still had some focus to spare on the rest of the world around you. You could hear the wind, the fireplace, you could even hear your man’s steps coming and going from the kitchen.

He said nothing, as he usually would. The words that his oldest brother had used to describe him when he first introduced you to him came to mind—not much of a conversationalist. That definitely held up until that very moment when you rolled out the main disk that would go on your pie pan. He would walk into the kitchen, and then the pacing would stop. He would remain still for a moment, completely silent, most likely watching you at work. Then, he would make his way back into the living room to sit by the fireplace.

And then, he would repeat that.

Your mind began to wander. Whenever Crosshair was curious about something you were doing, he would stand still and observe you the whole time, never really bothering to comment anything, just watching. But it felt odd to you that this time he seemed to come and go. Perhaps, given the observative nature of a former sniper, he’d also gotten the recipe for an apple pie down to every last detail. You’d baked it so many times in that cottage that he must have known it by now.

Your train of thought was broken by the sound of his steps returning to the kitchen. When you felt him stopping, you stopped rolling out the dough and looked over your shoulder, and you caught him in the act. When he felt you looking, Crosshair’s eyes landed on you, standing perfectly still, but it was already too late for him to retrieve his hand from the pot of apple pie filling, with a piece of spice and sugar coated apple clutched between his fingers.

“Gotcha,” you teased.

Still staring straight into your eyes, Crosshair took the piece of apple to his mouth and ate it.

You gasped dramatically. “Have you no shame?”

“You should take this as a compliment,” he said as he reached for another cube of apple. “It’s pretty good.”

“Don’t try to mask your antics with flattery,” you turned your body to fully face him “I have a pie to fill, and that’s gonna be hard if you keep eating that.”

Crosshair shot his signature smug grin at you, his eyes gleaming with the will to tease, as his hand slowly reached into the pie filling pot once more. His teeth bared slightly as he waited for your reaction.

Of course you were going to play along.

“Don’t you dare,” you raised a brow at him.

Crosshair inched his hand closer to the filling.

“I am warning you, Crosshair, do not touch one more piece of that filling,” you said as you took your wooden roller and pointed it at him like a makeshift sword.

“You dare point that thing at me?” Crosshair raised how brow at you.

“I’m the baker, and right now, this kitchen is my domain,” you said. “You have no power here.”

“Watch me,” he said as he snatched another piece of apple and ate it while looking you in the eyes.

You put the roller down and crossed your arms, faking annoyance. “You’re not getting any presents tomorrow.”

“You’re going to cave,” he mused as he began walking up to you. “You know why?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you began to turn around, reaching for the roller, but his hand was over yours before you could lift it from the counter top.

“Because you love it when I tease you,” Crosshair purred.

His soft grip on your hand made you let go of the roller again. His hands then made his way up to your shoulders, rubbing up and down as he felt the warm yarn of your gray sweater under his palms. “You’re soft.”

“You’re not sweetalking me,” you averted your gaze, still playing along in your role of unamused girlfriend.

“I believe I am,” Crosshair grinned as he noticed the reddish taint on your cheeks. “Hey?”

“Not listening,” you said, but a smile took over your lips as you suppressed a giggle.

“Hey,” Crosshair cooed again, his hands squeezing your arms as he leaned down and pressed his lips onto yours.

You could never resist Crosshair’s kisses. His lips on yours made all of your walls come down, and your arms went up around his neck while his arms traveled down around your waist, pressing your body closer to his. Crosshair pulled you up and made you stand on your toes, and he gave your body a tiny squeeze that made you giggle into the kiss. The sound was music to his ears, and he moaned into the kiss in that low, smooth voice that you loved so much.

“Mm,” you squirmed in his grip. “Cross, I have to finish the pie.”

As you talked, Crosshair kept smooching your cheeks and your jawline, hoping to draw more of those sweet giggles that he adored from you. Although he succeeded, he was then met by you gazing in his eyes with a blend of sweetness and firmness somehow only you could manage.

“That oven’s going to finish preheating any moment now,” you whispered.

Softly, Crosshair helped settle you down on your feet. “Mind if I watch?”

“Go ahead,” you grinned and turned around, taking your wooden tool to finish rolling out the dough.

Crosshair watched as you cut some strips of dough and set them apart for the lattice, some finer than others, and he watched as your fingers delicately took the time to put three of those strips together and form them into a braid long enough to go around the pie’s full circumference. Crosshair’s lips curved into a smile as he watched you, and though you couldn’t see his expression, you felt his arms wrapping tighter around you.

“You really do love this,” he whispered.

You smiled at his remark. “Yeah.”

When you finished up the braid of dough, you took a quick moment to count the strips of dough that you had and turned around in Crosshair’s arms, smiling softly at him. “I’m going to need that filling now.”

“Of course,” his eyes gleamed with mischief again.

“Cross,” you said.

Crosshair chuckled and went to get the filling from the stove for you. He handed it to you without having taken a single piece of apple, and you mouthed the words thank you when you took the pot from him. Crosshair went back to embracing you as you put the disk of rolled out dough onto the pie dish, delicately taking it and tucking it in so that it would rest perfectly along the dish’s shape, never pulling or tugging or doing anything that would suggest rushing the process.

You then took the filling and placed it within the dough, spoonful by spoonful. The scent of apple mixed with cinnamon and butter filled your nostrils, and unconsciously you hummed in delight at one of your favorite scents in the world. And while you basked in the joy that assembling the pie brought to you, Crosshair continued to watch as he enjoyed the warmth of having you close in his arms. He watched as you put the last couple of spoonfuls of filling into the pie and set the dishes aside, and he knew it was time for you to start building the lattice to finish it off.

The little gleam of mischief returned to Crosshair’s eyes once more, and even if you couldn’t see him as he hugged you from behind, you felt one of his hands lifting from your body only for you to see it reaching into the pie for another piece of apple. You then heard as Crosshair ate the softened, caramelized apple, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He reached in another two or three times—you were too amused to count—as you finished assembling the pie’s top, and even then, he reached into one of the gaps where he could reach for one last piece.

Crosshair got one more chance to admire the delicacy and care of your work when you put egg wash over the pie’s crust, and he only unwrapped his arms from around you when it was time to put the pie into the oven. You were careful when you placed it inside, feeling the heat around you, and when you closed the oven door and turned around, you were met with Crosshair smiling softly at you, a look that you loved with your soul and simply couldn’t see enough times.

“Come here,” Crosshair said so softly it was nearly a whisper.

Without hesitation, you walked into his arms and reached up to cup his cheeks while you kissed him. He kissed you back tenderly with one of his hands reaching to the back of your neck, entwining his fingers gently through your hair. But as much as Crosshair was enjoying the kiss, he parted from you to lead you over to the living room.

He took a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace, and you went over to sit leaning on him, but only after reaching for a blanket you could pull over you both. You leaned back and were engulfed by his warmth, feeling comforted by the fluffy blanket on top of you, and as you settled into the couch and heard the crackling of the fireplace, you felt Crosshair begin to play gently with your hair again.

“What are you thinking?” You asked him.

Crosshair hummed. “You’re happy.”

You smiled softly, and under the blanket, your hands found his to give them a squeeze.

“I’m happy here,” you said. “And I’m happy with you.”

“You never think of wanting more?” He asked.

You shifted in your place to look over your shoulder enough to look him in the eyes. “All that I love and value most in the world is right here, Crosshair. I’ve seen a world outside of this place, but ultimately this is where I want to be.”

Crosshair smiled and leaned in to give your temple a soft kiss. “Then here you’ll stay.”

You smiled and turned around again, settling your weight fully onto Crosshair and the couch beneath you, with his words echoing inside you as you took in the sounds around you—the wind, the fireplace, Crosshair’s breathing, the ticking of the timer set for your pie. That place you loved so much would be where you stayed.

And it would be where you always returned.

{Next chapter (coming soon!)} {Back to series masterlist}

Taglist: @zoeykallus @sageislostinspring @misogirl828 @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @whore4rex @morganlefaye13 @nunanuggets

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Thank you so much for reading!

[billlydear]

figure you out - billy hargrove x reader x steve harrington

summary: billy thinks he has you all figured out. he knows what makes you tick. but steve harrington has discovered a symphony of sounds, not just the one beat billy picked up. // word count: 884 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

based off of 'figure you out' by voila, though the concept has been changed slightly. i recommend listening before or during reading

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

You’re different with Harrington than you were with him, Billy notes. You’re softer around the edges, all sweet smiles and sunshine. With him you’d been a storm cloud, charged with a lightning bolt that struck his heart one too many times. It was fair, though, because he bit back, hard. 

Most of your relationship had been fighting. Not the cutesy kind, over the remote, but not the crazy kind either, throwing plates. Somewhere in the middle, swear words thrown around without any meaning, sneering and scoffing at one another.

Most over jealousy, others over little things that got under your skin. Billy hated the way you left puddles of water on the counter and the floor when doing dishes, and you hated the way he chainsmoked and got the whole house smelling like the inside of a chimney.

You’d throw a few ‘fuck you’s out there, roll your eyes, then drop down on the couch and fuck like rabbits. That was the beauty of the relationship; everything was fixed with sex. 

Billy thinks that Steve’s hand looks awkward on your thigh. He’s sitting two tables away, watching the man fumble through a subtle-leg-squeeze maneuver, and remembers how he used to do it. Hand on thigh, thumbnail marking a crescent into your skin, pinky dangerously close to your core. Steve’s hand is timid, halfway up your thigh, and stiff. He’s doing it all wrong.

Billy could hold you with his hands tied. He could kiss you with a blindfold, love you with his eyes closed. He knows every inch of your body, from the spot you like scratched on your back to the stretch of your thigh that makes you shiver if he bites just right. He knows you, he’s figured you out, and Steve’s walking in blind. Blind and bumbling, as you shift your thigh so that Steve’s hand falls off of it. Billy turns back to his lunch with a rueful sneer, hoping that you’d be done with Harrington soon so that he could have you back. After all, didn’t you like the way things were? You had your moments, a late night cuddle, a heartfelt conversation in the camaro, But most of it was sex, steamy, aggressive, glorious sex that had you screaming into the couch cushions. Harrington can’t possibly provide the same level of carnal, lust-driven sex that Billy had- oh.

With another glance back up at you, purely reflex, Billy spots Steve’s hand around your shoulders. You react much differently this time, leaning towards him and tucking your head onto his shoulder. You look comfortable, and Billy watches as your hand sneaks down your side to hook a finger through Steve’s belt loop. It’s nothing you’d ever done before with Billy, at least, not if you weren’t tugging him close for a quick fuck.

Billy watches Steve figure you out, eyes burning a hole into the back of that insanely large mop of hair as Steve charts all the stars in your constellation that Billy’s telescope had been too weak to see. Blinded by the most fiery, apparently he’d lost track of the clusters of softly glowing ones just beside them, like the way you knock your foot into Steve’s under the table, or how you steal a french fry from him by biting off the half that’s still between his lips.

Maybe he hasn’t figured you out. He’s known you forever, Steve only for a month, but maybe he’s only figured out Billy Hargrove’s Girlfriend, not Y/N Y/L/N. 

To be honest, he had never bothered to care about the difference. But now that Harrington has the newest model, the one that comes with sweet kisses in the lunchroom and shy glances from across class, he wants it, too. He wants to figure you out all over again, which flowers make you smile the biggest, and what happens when he traces the lines on your hands. Maybe you’re missing out on hate sex now that you’re with Harrington, but you’d been missing out on love with Billy, and something deep in the pit of his stomach twists with worry at the thought that you might not want to give up love. He wasn't ever sure he was capable of it, he’s always thought he might be permanently dead in that part of his brain. But the things he’s feeling aren’t very aggressive now, aren’t lust-ridden and desperate, they’re soft. They’re the glint in your eyes, they’re the wind in your hair, they’re the butterfly on your nose. 

He can’t believe it took Steve Harrington to kindle the fire of love inside of him (a sentence he doesn’t want to think too hard about), but now that it’s been sparked, it slowly burns, singing away at his insides and smearing dark, ashy guilt over his guts.

If, by any chance, you look his way again, Billy Hargrove promises himself this: He’ll figure you out. He’ll untie his hands, smooth them across your shoulders and dig into your neck after a long day. He’ll take the blindfold off, watching for the shine in your eyes as he presses his lips to your forehead. He’ll open his eyes, and make sure the love in yours matches the love in his, even if his is warped from mistreatment and disuse. 

He'll learn. He’ll treat you better.

[exonerin]

✾ WIP WEDNESDAY [Obikin | AO3] ✾

Today, I present chapter 3 of Not Made To Last and I offer a snippet of chapter 4! And yes, this time I didn't forget the link to the fic on AO3. (Yes, I edited this post because I forgot the link again)

Please read chapter 3 first before you enjoy the extra snippet. Also, music:

Without further ado, here's more drama:

So, he shuffled back to the room he shared with Obi-Wan, filled with more questions than answers. Also, his chest still itched. Thus, it wasn't surprising Anakin couldn't sleep. Something felt off. Suddenly, his bed was too large, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to the womp rats camping under his bed, and the smells were wrong. Uneasily, he shifted, which made the springs in his thin mattress creak loudly. Immediately, Anakin froze, holding his breath. The urge to burrow deeper under the thin blanket grew overwhelming, driving him insane until Anakin rolled on his side. His tossing and turning was communicated by a symphony of creaking springs.

"Is something wrong, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, which was a kind way to tell Anakin to be quiet.

"I'm cold," Anakin said, which wasn't a lie. However, it didn't describe the vulnerability that made him feel overly exposed in his bed, nor did it touch on the sense of insecurity that had flayed his heart wide open, allowing anyone to pick through the unprotected emotions hidden behind these walls.

Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin froze in his bed, waiting with bated breath. Obi-Wan left his bed, the springs in his mattress creaking loudly in the silence, only disturbed by the thick sheet of rain hitting the inn's rooftop and windows. Anakin watched Obi-Wan approach him, understanding what Obi-Wan aimed to do when Obi-Wan shucked off his cloak.

"This mission may appear low stakes because no Separatist forces have crashed through the window yet, but we cannot afford to let our guards down, Anakin," Obi-Wan lectured while placing his cloak over Anakin as an extra blanket. "Senators don't disappear without good reason."

Obi-Wan acted like Anakin was an insomniac on purpose. So, Anakin shouldn't delight in Obi-Wan's reprimands, but he had missed Obi-Wan so much that he would soak up the negative attention as readily as anything else.

Once Obi-Wan had deposited his cloak over Anakin, he turned to his own bed. "Sleep well, Anakin."

Anakin pressed his lips together tightly to stop smiling.

"Sleep well, Master."

Obi-Wan didn't correct him, but Anakin didn't know whether this was a victory. Obi-Wan's silence wasn't a tacit approval or permission to call him 'Master' again. Obi-Wan had given up, assuming Anakin didn't care about Obi-Wan's feelings regarding the title. Persisting would make Anakin a selfish monster who refused to ask for what he wanted. Yet, asking meant leaving himself open to the same rejection he had given Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. A rejection that Anakin's heart, battered and fractured as it was, couldn't handle. "Obi-Wan," Anakin whispered so softly he hoped Obi-Wan didn't overhear. He rubbed the fabric of Obi-Wan's well-worn cloak between a thumb and index finger, wondering why his elation had disappeared. Sighing quietly, he pulled the cloak around him tighter, turning it into a cocoon he could burrow into. When he finished nestling in Obi-Wan's cloak, the fabric surrounded him, and on each inhale, he could smell Obi-Wan's pheromones, which clung to the material.

The whiskey and amber dominated, but with his nose pressed to the cloak -- definitely not sniffing the material -- Anakin could also pick up on cardamom. Sweet, spicy, warm, and slightly floral, the hint of cardamom turned a familiar scent into something even better.

[drainsdorm]

wip untitled merthur fic

[ leaking the prologue of the fic im working on, hope you all enjoy :) ]

Merlin is an incredibly observant man, reading others like a book he has read hundreds of times before, leaving so many notes in the margins that it would be illegible to anyone but himself. A marvel of a skill it is, of course, but it should be expected with just how long he has had to study those around him, how they’ve become so different yet stayed nearly entirely the same. Observing and studying his peers isn’t a simple pastime though, it holds great purpose, greater than one could possibly imagine. 

Merlin is also an unfathomably loyal man, a man who loves and loves until his heart bursts, but even then, he continues to love with every atom in his being. It’s just his nature, his raison d'être. He is his raison d'être, the man who held Merlin’s heart once before with the gentlest caress, the man who bled for Merlin’s heart to continue to beat, the man who kept Merlin’s heart close to his chest as it burst as to soak all of him in one last time, the man who Merlin is so observant for, Arthur Pendragon. 

Merlin reads novels and poems, watches films and plays, listens to songs and symphonies, walks the earth observing the trees and the lakes and the people, and despite the vast differences between all these little things, in them, he still only sees, hears, feels, and thinks of Arthur. The use of the word “yearning” would be an injustice to his overwhelmingly pure devotion, but to put it simply, he yearns for the day that he could take in Arthur’s image and absorb his presence within himself once more. Even after a thousand and some years, he has not at all forgotten the sensation of Arthur’s leather glove grazing the back of his head, the weight of Arthur’s armored body as he lay across his lap, the desperate desire in Arthur’s expression to spend his last moments sheltered in his lover’s embrace as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world, and it was. It was the only thing that mattered, the only damn thing that matters and will matter for as long as Merlin lives, as long as he keeps the memory of Arthur alive, as long as time goes on. 

There is no doubt that the late king would return, the prophecy would not betray him in such a cruel manner. At least that is what he invests all of his hope in, like a man hellbent on winning the lottery despite all odds being against him. So, Merlin searches, constantly and consistently to no avail. Failure after failure, year after year, the fire that Arthur had ignited in the sorcerer continues to burn brighter, keeping him warm on the darkest and coldest of days, the days where he otherwise might have surrendered to grief, but alas, there is still love for him to give.