#i forgot this deleted scene existed

[compositecreature]

some old bill drawings i did 5+ years ago. One of them is a rejected tattoo concept lmaoooo

[shrekshugebadussy]

started playing The Arcana again bcuz i forgot it was a thing and i never finished it (only got halfway thru Asra’s route) & i got very curious about Lucio’s route since he’s practically the dead one & how that would work and let me tell you when that motherfucker opened his mouth… yeah i knew i was in trouble 🙃

[zhivchik]

Royalty | Charn x Tinn | Laws of Attraction (AU) One forgot and one remembered too clearly.

Say I'm cold hearted But I'm just getting started

[radioactive-earthshine]

Writing tips for long fics that helped me that no one asked for.

1.) Don't actually delete content from your WIP unless it is minor editing - instead cut it and put it in a secondary document. If you're omitting paragraphs of content, dialog, a whole scene you might find a better place for it later and having it readily available can really save time. Sometimes your idea was fantastic, but it just wasn't in the right spot.

2.) Stuck with wording the action? Just write the dialog then revisit it later.

3.) Stuck on the whole scene? Skip it and write the next one.

4.) Write on literally any other color than a white background. It just works. (I use black)

5.) If you have a beta, while they are beta-ing have them read your fic out loud. Yes, I know a lot of betas/writers do not have the luxury of face-timing or have the opportunity to do this due to time constraints etc but reading your fic out loud can catch some very awkward phrasing that otherwise might be missed. If you don't have a beta, you read it out loud to yourself. Throw some passion into your dialog, you might find a better way to word it if it sounds stuffy or weird.

6.) The moment you have an idea, write it down. If you don't have paper or a pen, EMAIL it to yourself or put it in a draft etc etc. I have sent myself dozens of ideas while laying down before sleep that I 10/10 forgot the next morning but had emailed them to myself and got to implement them.

7.) Remember - hits/likes/kudos/comments are not reflective of the quality of your fic or your ability to write. Most people just don't comment - even if they say they do, they don't, even if they preach all day about commenting, they don't, even if they are a very popular blog that passionately reminds people to comment - they don't comment (I know this personally). Even if your fic brought tears to their eyes and it haunted them for weeks and they printed it out and sent it to their friends they just don't comment. You just have to accept it. That being said - comment on the fic you're reading now, just do it, if you're 'shy' and that's why you don't comment the more you comment the better you'll get at it. Just do it.

8.) Remove unrealistic daily word count goals from your routine. I've seen people stress 1500 - 2000 words a day and if they don't reach that they feel like a failure and they get discouraged. This is ridiculous. Write when you can, but remove absurd goals. My average is 500 words a day in combination with a 40 hour a week job and I have written over 200k words from 2022-2023.

9.) There are dozens of ways to do an outline from precise analytical deconstruction that goes scene by scene to the minimalist bullet point list - it doesn't matter which one you use just have some sort of direction. A partial outline is better than no outline.

10.) Write for yourself, not for others. Write the fic you know no one is going to read. Write the fic that sounds ridiculous. You will be so happy you put it out in the world and there will be people who will be glad it exists.

[dixons-sunshine]

➶you can just call me Krys➴

she/her or she/they. i can legally drink alcohol. reader and writer. bilingual girly. lover of many movies and tv shows. daryl dixon’s sunshine (confirmed). richonner. young!daryl and dad!daryl writer until i die. spiders and snakes can return to the depths of hell from whence they came. dog person. night owl. professional rambler.

masterlists. get to know more about me.

⋆✮⋆ I won’t tolerate any racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, hate language, and any other bad-isms! This blog is meant to be a safe space for everyone!

⋆✮⋆ My blog is generally okay for everyone. I specialize in fluff. However, although my blog contains some contents that are 18+, I am not going to force anyone under that age to get off my page, and quite frankly, going through everyone’s blogs to ensure that they are over 18 and then blocking them if they’re not takes a lot of time. You know what you’re getting yourself into when you click “keep reading” on my posts that will always be appropriately tagged with warnings. I am in no way responsible for your media consumption.

⋆✮⋆ My requests are: CLOSED.

I take requests for the following people:

↬Daryl Dixon

↬Scud Frohmeyer

↬Murphy Macmanus

↬Vincent Bauer

↬Van (Floating 1997)

↬Rick Grimes

↬Michonne Hawthorne

↬Rosita Espinosa

↬Glenn Rhee

↬Carol Peletier

↬Negan Smith.

⋆✮⋆ I always try my absolute best to keep appearances regarding the reader neutral so that everyone can enjoy my stories. However, if I slip up, I apologize!

⋆✮⋆ I’ll write any tropes/kinks I’m comfortable with, and I’ll let you know if I’m not! Some tropes/kinks I’m not comfortable with writing, though, is non-con, dub-con, incest, stepcest, pedophilia, pervert!(character), piss kinks, mommy/daddy kinks, huge age gaps where the reader is barely pushing 18 and daryl is in his late 40’s, hardcore degradation, cheating (if it’s Daryl cheating on the reader in a Daryl x reader story, for example), explicit, in detail sexual abuse scenes, and foot fetishes.

⋆✮⋆ I will not write character x character. I obviously have my favourite ships that I want to go canon, but I don’t feel comfortable writing fanfiction like that.

⋆✮⋆ I will not write character x random oc, meaning an oc I didn’t personally create/isn’t a friend’s oc.

⋆✮⋆ I will not write actor/actress x reader. They are real people and I’d feel weird writing that about somebody who actually exists. Absolutely no hate to those that do write it, but it’s just not my thing.

⋆✮⋆ I’ll try my absolute best to write every request I can, but please keep in mind that I have a life outside of Tumblr and it might take me a while to get to your request. Also, as the writer, I do have the right to deny a request if I don’t feel up to doing it.

⋆✮⋆ Tumblr has a tendency to delete asks sometimes, so if you feel like I forgot about your request, you can send in a reminder for me, but please don’t overdo it.

⋆✮⋆ Other than that, I hope you enjoy my writing!

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 8)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 📍 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 8 - Trust

Detective Brady is sharper than you initially thought, though Alastor is (seemingly) unfazed by the threat. While you both explore the idea of ‘home’ a familiar face shows up at your apartment.

「Warnings/Tags: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, Detective Brady exists a lot and maybe too much, fingering lol, phone calls, almost our first fight, stress, Disney mom rule, Ruth is pretty alright for now, Brenda」

forgot to tag you in the deleted scene for TRDFAHS

M👻D☠️N👽I😈

Your mother always said ‘Anger is your sword and shield’. So you postured yourself as someone mad. One hip out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Sir I don’t appreciate a man in a lady’s space.”

Brady bit his tongue, wanting to say something sharp.

 I don’t see any ladies here.

 He met the glares of the women behind you. “Ah, well-,”

“Do you really expect her to leave in her robe?”

“Aren’t you the man whose been stalking her?”

“Autumn I’ll go with you.”

“You want her to get into a strange man’s car?”

He felt like a fox about to be pecked to death by the hens.

“Now-! Alright I’m seeing I maybe,” he set your shoes down and slid past you and between the other performers, “got a little eager to speak to you.”

“Does Janet know you like to hang around burlesquers?” Someone said as his back was turned.

Like having ice water poured over his head, his shoulders tensed as did his tone. “I’ll be right out the door.”

You tried to hide the tremble in your hands, but failed. Ruth slid beside you, “What do you need?”

A phone. But the cord wouldn’t reach that far. You wanted to tell Alastor. You needed him to know that detective had you cornered and knew of his existence.

“Could you stay with me? I’m not going anywhere. But I’ll feel safer if I’m not talking to him alone. In case he tries to drag me out. He seems a little off his rocker.” You were genuinely scared he would grab you by the arm and pull you out of the theater if he didn’t think anyone would see. 

She patted your back, the others filing in to continue with their work of getting dressed and undressed. You took your time, trying to plan what you would say.

Brady felt an embarrassed blush take hold as the women moved past him with scowls and tsks. He could feel a little bit of his sanity slip back now that you were in front of him. 

“I have some questions about Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. We can head down now.”

Oddly, your mother also taught you, ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ 

She didn’t always make a lot of sense, contradicting herself daily. 

Time to use the tried and true tactic, “I am sorry, detective. I had some trouble recently and have been keeping to myself… going home as soon as possible. Just trying to keep my nose clean. So to speak.”

Brady watched you look up at him with a face his daughter often gave him when she was in trouble. But you weren’t a child and you surely weren’t his daughter. “That’s no excuse to dodge me.”

Your turn to bite your tongue, “Of course, sir.”

Ruth was… confused. She’d never seen you so obedient. You had more venom in your voice after taking a hit from Tommy knowing a third could be close behind. Why were you being so small?

“Are you ready to go?” He fished in his pocket for his car door keys. 

Ruth felt the need to interject, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Perfect.

You nodded, “I won’t be out at night, sir. You know better than most about the dangers.” Your dangers. Your darling Alastor.

“No, no no,” an unhinged chuckle from the fraying detective, “You’re not slipping away again. I have my car, I’ll take you there and bring you home.”

Ruth looked to you, then back to the detective, “Is she under arrest?”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”

“Then? What gives you the right?”

Technically, nothing. He didn’t need to talk to you. His lead still stood. But maybe you’d slip and say something to expedite his search for the radio man. Maybe this would only end with Tommy. But he felt something tickling the back of his skull. An urge to not stop pushing.

“I’ll meet you at the station tomorrow morning. Is it the address on the card you gave me?” Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. You just needed him gone so you could call Alastor. 

He was shaking his notebook, key looped onto his finger. A nervous habit. “You still have my card?”

A smile, “Of course. In case any news came up. I’d have called but I didn’t realize you were so worked up.”

He scoffed. He wasn’t worked up. He was just annoyed. Maybe a little rougher in demeanor than usual but whose fault was that?

“If you don’t turn up tomorrow-,”

Ruth, taller than most women and some men and wide at the shoulders, leaned in.

Brady’s eyeline adjusted from yours to Ruth’s. Skye Scraper wasn’t just a pun, it was a cruel nickname she took ownership of. “Finish that sentence.”

The conversation ended there, Brady leaving with a huff.

You’d memorized the number the night Alastor gave it to you, too scared to write it down. He warned you though he wouldn’t be the one to answer.

“Is Alastor still there?” You tried to smile so you sounded less panicked. Ruth mouthed his name and pretended to swoon as you held the phone close to your ear. 

“Uhh depends, who is this?” Brenda answered, a voice you’d never heard but a woman Alastor had primed you for. 

“….”, but why hadn’t you thought through this part, what name was safe? Which was recognizable? You didn’t like the idea of this woman knowing your name. “Tell him it’s Autumn.”

“….” 

You laughed at Ruth, waiting still for a reply from Brenda, “Hello?”

“Is this a crank? Autumn like the season? I-,” a commotion, “Hey there! No. I don’t know. Well it’s past hours anywa-.”

Alastor was lying across Brenda’s desk to reach the phone, having wrestled it from the woman’s grip, “I’m here. What’s wrong? I was about to leave.”

“I’ll walk home tonight.” It hurt, physically hurt, to say it.

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral, “Oh.” Nervous fingers twirling the cord, “One second.” 

Harsh whispers, some clicks, and he was back, “I’m in my office. What happened?”

“Yeah Ruth is with me. It’s okay. I’ll call you like normal tomorrow?” 

“Should I swing by your apartment?” He considered doing it regardless of your answer.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll be heading to the police station early tomorrow so I’ll be asleep as soon as I’m flat.” Putting your hand over the receiver, you spoke to Ruth, “Thank you, we got it figured out.”

His heart sank to his stomach, “Did he finally manage to catch you?”

“Yeah. Or—-,” your voice cracked a little, the fear rolling in as soon as Ruth walked away, “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over to the theater.”

Cupping the phone you curved your shoulders in and turned away from the staff milling about, “Don’t, that’s worse.” Tears stung your eyes. You felt like you’d failed him. You had somehow, hadn’t you? The loose thread Brady could grab ahold of was you.

“If you can’t come to the alley I’ll leave after a couple minutes. But I’ll be there in twenty, same time as our normal pick up.”

“Alastor, that’s reckless.”

“Please, dear, I don’t want our first fight to be over my work line.” A calming breath, “You don’t have to meet me, but I’ll be there. Just five minutes, then I’ll be off.”

You decided the safest thing to do was to wait in the alley. If you saw any signs of Brady or anyone coming out, you’d go back inside and just miss the meeting. But the idea of Alastor being just beyond the wall, waiting all alone, was too much.

But how much harder would it be if the wall was of the prison? Or worse, dense earth under your feet? That’s what Brady was wanting. 

You hadn’t realized you’d been chewing your nails until his car turned down the alley from the back and you tore off much of the length of your thumbnail.

Your arms were thrown around him before he was fully out of the car, “Alastor, he knows I have a guy. He wanted me to go down right now but I managed to push it to tomorrow.” Alastor tried to decipher the words as you spoke them into his vest, “What do I do?”

Normally you’d have your own plans in mind but this was too big, this was capable of hurting him more than anyone else. 

He smelled like ink and smoke, a scent you inhaled as you tried to calm your breath.

A large hand patted your head, “Okay. You go tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Don’t stress.” Pulling you off he placed chaste kisses across your face. “Think about what you want to say to him and we can talk it out in the morning. Everything is fine.”

The reality of you standing in a dirty alley crying into the arms of a murderer set in. Then the little detail you were both killers creeped over your chest and took hold of your throat.

He was impressed at the strength of your hands as you gripped at his clothes. Leaning against the car, he offered you his most charming smile.

“Deep breaths, dear. Do I look scared?”

He didn’t. He looked like a magazine ad for French cologne or razor blades that left the softest skin. 

“No.” You shook your head.

“No.” He nodded. “It’ll be okay. If you don’t go, he will hound you worse. If you do go, maybe he’ll realize he’s got a handful of nothing.”

His smile blinded you. Bright grin as he rested against his car, arms open. 

“Do you really think so? A handful of nothing?”

“Did he say my name?”

“No.”

“Did he–” he elongated the word, lips pursed as he searched the sky for his next words, “have Tommy’s body?”

You laughed, morbid but preposterous, “I didn’t pat him down. Coulda.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, “We’ll have to just assume he didn’t.” A moment of tension. The act of joking barely traversing the space between your bodies let alone reaching the stress under your skin. His hands came to your shoulders; firm, secure. “Did you want to have that fight now? About me coming over here.”

You rolled your eyes, obviously not. “Ala-,” you started and stopped.

“I’ll admit I’m being reckless but I think we can both agree my way is more fun.” Smile sliding into a smirk, he cocked his head and lowered it to get back into your line of sight. When you stuck your tongue out he took a deep breath in, relief. “Are you sure I can’t take you home?”

To which home, you wondered. He used the word so casually and interchangeably…

Face close to yours. Eyes solely on you. Perhaps the stage wasn’t as necessary as you’d once thought. Lips on lips, the feeling of his smile spreading as he returned the kiss. A second of panic as you realized you couldn’t see or hear or sense what else was happening anymore in the alley. Brady could have had you in handcuffs and you wouldn’t be the wiser. Not as long as Alastor’s mouth was moving over yours.

“I’ll call in the morning.” He said into your exhale.

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. Not ready to return to earth. A pout from you. A chuckle from him. “I’ll be waiting,” You finally said. 

While you did your waiting, shuffling around the theater and later tossing around in bed, Alastor fell into a different kind of purgatory.

One he hadn’t realized he’d made for himself until you weren’t there. 

The house was quiet, almost eerie. Even with music on he found himself nearly uncomfortable. He shifted several times in his chair while reading, not finding any way to settle in. 

His bed was lopsided. Suddenly one side was too light. Multiple times his hand slid under the sheets in search of you out of habit. 

What a terrible feeling; to want someone. To know you could have them but they just… weren’t there.

It didn't make any sense. He knew he’d see you soon, in less than a day's time even. He typically enjoyed his home and its silence. Being alone was predictable and therefore comforting. Well, it had been. Before you. 

The feeling in his chest, akin to a magnet tugging through his sternum toward a distant partner, didn’t abate.

Only when he heard your voice again over the phone did he find a sliver of peace.

“I’ve decided I’ll deny I have a guy. And, I’ll never tell him about you. It’s safer if he never connects us.”

Alastor was listening, honestly, but he wasn’t really processing. His mind was worried about something else. The detective genuinely didn’t bother him but he had to agree, “I suppose that’s best. As long as we can manage it, to not let him know we’re together.”

Together.

You were together with him. An item. How spectacular you must be to be a part of anything with him.

But for how long? With a certain detective breathing down your neck…, “I’m scared. Actually.”

You could hear the smile in Alastor’s breath, it was odd but eased you. 

“He will never have enough to convict us. He’ll drive himself crazy trying. Trust me.” He soothed. 

Did you have any choice? “Okay. You’re right. I trust you.” Unequivocally so. 

He cleared his throat, “Sorry to change the subject…”

“Please.”

“I want you to come over again tonight. What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, don’t even need to ask. I’ll always say yes.” All you needed to do was get through Brady and you’d be home.

But for Alastor, well, he wasn’t done asking the question. A moment of panic from a place unrecognized in his brain, fear of losing himself entirely. But what good was a safe harbor if he never ventured out to sea? That’s just a restraint then, isn’t it? 

Maybe you held a place for him even richer in its comforts than his solitude.

So he let himself drift away from familiar shores, no sails and no compass, “I think it’d be smart to bring over a couple sets of clothes. I can keep them washed and always here for you. Would that be alright?” He had wanted to suggest it while together, but Brady was ruining more than his sleep.

Oh.

The same silence from when he first extended the invitation, the deja vu not lost on you. You struggled to decipher the second meaning you were sure was there. Maybe he didn't know what he had asked. 

“I know it’s boring out in the boonies but, you’re welcome to just stay over while I go to work. I can come back and get you for rehearsals… I’ll enjoy the clubs or come back and make something for a late dinner for us, and bring you home when you’re done.”

He said it. He hadn’t really meant to, so he felt the need to clarify, but you also needed him to clarify just as quickly, “I -,”

“Did you me-?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No I interrupted you-,”

“Not at all pl-,”

“Alastor for the love of God please don’t make me keep talking right now.” You lightly knocked your head with the phone a few times. Your heart was gasping for an ounce of understanding.

He chuckled, glad you were still very much yourself, “I meant, take you home as in, away from work. So, here. Or, there, if you’d prefer.” His face scrunched up, this wasn’t a conversation he had any practice in, “Anywhere really. I’ll drive you anywhere.”

“Alabama?”

He looked at the phone as if you were in it. Alabama? 

“Like— the first time you asked me over.” You added quickly. A terrible joke, a bad callback that made it painfully obvious you committed everything he said to memory.

Alastor rested his cheek on the dining table, laughing into the wood before bringing the receiver back. You always offered him an out of uncomfortable situations, “Well the offer still stands. I'd be willing to even venture at least halfway across Texas.” 

“The best half of Texas is on our side so that’s a generous offer. But, given our work schedules, I think your house would be much better. Time wise.” 

He let his eyes close as he felt the coldness of the wood, “Is that a yes then? To bringing over a couple of items… for ease.” Was it a mistake? Would he regret it? 

You were worth regrets. He had decided. He wanted you to say yes.

The weight of what he was asking wasn’t lost on you an ounce. You could see your window from the phone booth. You took great pride in your little apartment. It was your space and no one else’s. As a child you struggled to have your own anything, so you valued your home. 

But could you call any place so far from Alastor a home?

It’s just a few items. You weren’t giving up your lease. It’s a baby step. One you could easily walk back if you needed to later. It’s not like you hadn’t spent every night possible already since that first offer.

“Yes.” 

It was a plan that took your mind off cops. Have your interrogation, go home, then go home for a relaxing evening of jazz and drink.

The levity ended though the second you hung up the receiver. An obstacle between you and him still stood. You pulled out your bag but couldn’t find the will to pack it. Your hands were too busy as you chewed on your thumbnail again.

Brady noticed the uneven length when you sat down and set your hands on the table.

“Surprised you showed.” He opened his notebook and readied his pencil. “First things first, what is your legal name?”

A chill. You’d gotten your warning the night before to prepare something to say but ignored it. Your mind was flipping through words and images. Piercing all of it were the white reflective eyes of the deer along the road. You decided to lean into what you knew. 

“Autumn.”

“Really? Never heard the name Autumn before.”

“Me either. Made for an easy stage name.”

“I’ll need to see your birth records, just to be sure.”

You sucked your teeth. “Ah, unfortunately…all that stuff was left behind with my mom when I moved.”

“And where can I find her?

“Corner of North Villere street and Piety.”

“And your address?”

You paused. His eyes rose and met yours. The radiant aqua from the cafe morning was now an icy color. “I don’t give my address out. You know where I work.”

“But you’re fine giving me your mother’s address? That’s cold.”

“Not as cold as she is, I’m sure of that.”

“Fine, I’ll find it in the census records.” He flipped the page, “Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged.” He tapped his notepad on the table like it was the starting bell of a fight.

You wished Alastor was with you, but also wished he would never enter that station. “Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he,” you remembered the man and his ugly tie, “introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently.”

“And who was that?”

You searched your memory, “S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening.”

Brady nodded, “And then he knocked you around?”

You winced without meaning too, “Yeah. Got me good.”

Brady waited for you to continue talking, but you had learned this game. People know silence is uncomfortable and will use that against you. So you let the silence stay. Let the awkward tension build. You had limited time, he knew that.

He caved first. “And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that.”

Lying was second nature to you. You had killed for Alastor. You could do this. Deep breaths, slink into yourself. You imagined Alastor choked on the park grounds, wet and unmoving. Imagined him cold to the touch.

“Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection.” Tears welled. Bloody hands and a large rock. “But as soon as he got his money he left.” 

Brady was writing, “And the man? What was his name.”

“Something foreign. Kerr-something. Or Car?”

He looked up slightly, “You’re pretty terrible at names.”

You wiped away your tears, “I had more pressing concerns at the time than trying to remember that man’s name. I was hoping I’d never need to know it.”

Brady hummed, “Yeah. And what did your beau think of this?”

Did you hide it? The flash of panic that rolled under the flesh of your face, “If I had a beau Tommy wouldn’t have made me do that. He said that himself.”

“Too bad he’s not here to confirm.”

“If he was we wouldn’t be having this conversation, detective.”

“Touché. Clever little lady aren’t you?”

Fuck.

You shifted slightly in your seat, looking downward in an attempt at being bashful. “That’s kind to say.”

“So why did,” he flipped through his book, “Beth say you stopped singin’ on Sundays cuz of your radio boyfriend?”

“Ah,” a weak laugh to hide the way your breath got sucked in with panic. The words ‘radio boyfriend’ punched the air from your lungs. “You must mean the rake. Took me for a ride at a club corner and sent me off in a cab to never see me again. Didn’t know he was in radio though.” 

“Well now you’re lying and I don’t appreciate it one ounce ma’am.“

“What?”

“Beth says he’s been coming to your shows for nearly half a year.”

No acting necessary for this part. “What are you talking about? I met him at a club. We arranged a date and he picked me up at—“

“Beth’s dive.”

“…. Yeah. Well.” He’d been there before? So often? And you never noticed…, “That’s news to me, that he had been there for so long, it’s got its regulars though so...” You shifted again, this time with a clear uncomfortable edge. 

“He stopped coming when you stopped singing.”

“….guess he got what he wanted then. A fun time in the swing hall bathroom.”  Anger. Unreal and unfounded. Trying your best to hide how confused you were.

“Sounds like a stalker, miss. Maybe one who woulda been quite unhappy to hear you were selli-,”

You cut him off, eyes snapping up to meet his, “I really recommend you reconsider your wording.”

Brady laughed with a huff, “A man dizzy with a dame can do some funny stuff. Especially if he hears she’s in a pickle.”

“Well, no knight coming to rescue me. I’ve sworn off men. It’s why I’ve been leaving work early. Getting home, reading, sleeping. He really did a number on my heart and my pride as a woman.”

Brady’s pencil stopped moving. 

“And his name?”

You’d never fucking say it. He could walk in on you moaning ‘Alastor’ and you’d still act like you’d never heard that string of syllables in your life. 

“John.”

Brady laughed and tossed the pencil to the table, “Let me guess, last name Doe?”

You shrugged, “We weren’t on a full name basis. He was handsome, he took me out, we fucked, I never saw him again” You delighted in the way his face screwed up at your unladylike language. 

“So, someone in radio named John. You know I’m going to be at every broadcaster talking to every John, right?” The nervous shaking of his notebook again. 

“When you find him let me know.”

“Oh I will.” He said it so quickly, so sharply you could feel it cut at your cheek as the words flew past you.

You pulled your hands into your lap, eyes firmly locked on Brady’s. “You look tired, sir. I hope my answers will help you. So you can rest.”

“I am tired. Of people jerking me around. You won’t give me your address, you don’t remember anyone’s name, not even your own, and you deny having a man I know you have.”

If you screamed would he have you committed? “I’m terribly sorry,” you leaned over the table and pulled a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, “my friend gave you inaccurate and dated information. I am genuinely trying to help as much as I can.”

Upon closer inspection, his eyes were more than just blue. They were dark and light, deep and shallow. Blue so far down it was nearly black. A blue so bright it was a cousin of white. Eyes you were sure would haunt you. 

“Help me then, Autumn.” Your brows rose at the request. He leaned back and away from you, “Just tell me what happened to Tommy. What your guy did. If he was trying to protect your name then we could find a sympathetic jury.”

Sympathy? Your smile was too wide, stare gone too soft. What sympathy did he have or would anyone have for you? Did he think you wanted the tender hearts of strangers? “Tommy ran off with a bag of money. He was a good man with a bad habit. That’s all I know. I have no partner, man or otherwise.”

A standstill. 

Brady felt a twitch in his hands he wasn’t used to. An itch to move. Unlike him, and a little frightening. 

Maybe he had been running himself ragged. 

Back sliding down slightly in his chair, he laced his fingers and rested them in his lap, “You know I’m gonna find out what happened, right?” His tone had shifted to something serious and calm. He said it like he was telling you a secret. Low but firm. Steady and sure. 

Those eyes. No, worse. What was behind them. You could see it clearly; unflappable determination. He absolutely would. 

“I trust you will.” A moment of silence again as you both felt the conversation die. As you stood, Brady did too.

“I wasn’t bluffing about him going to Beth’s for more than half a year now. I don’t know how you think this is gonna end but it won’t end pretty. Whether it was just your boss or all the others on my desk, end it with him and help us bring Tommy home to his mother.”

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, “I don’t know how many time-,”

“Autumn. I’ve seen enough make up covered bruises to clock em from across the room. That’s the act of a possessive, immature man. Just think about what I said,” You opened the door in an effort to keep your hands from shooting to your neck. “There’s no white picket fence or church bells for you two. He’s a bad man. I think he may even be an evil man. You’re gonna end up hurt, or dead.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest but you managed to stifle it. With an honest smile you replied, “We’re all gonna end up dead someday, Detective. I’ll call if I have any news. Thanks for your concern and … evident hard work.” You offered a little nod of your head before leaving the room and the station as quickly as you could without running. 

When he set down his notebook after returning to his desk, he couldn’t sit. Energy was buzzing in his limbs. He needed to run or swing or pace.

His desk neighbor watched him immediately pick up the notebook again and grab his hat. A few other men shared a glance as Brady rushed out, an unsettling feeling passed among them. 

“He’s still on that case?” One asked quietly, going back to his papers.

“Not officially….” Answered Freeman, standing at the window and watching Brady flag down a taxi.

“North Villere street and Piety, please.” He told the driver, not noticing his friend in the window.

It wasn’t near the station, nor the dance scene. He wondered if your mother would be any more amiable. What kind of woman would raise such a creature as you?

When the car slowed, Brady clicked back into his surroundings. He looked through every window hoping to see something different.

After a long pause the cabbie asked, “Ya gonna get out?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. “No. Take me back to the station.”

His blood pressure rose so quickly he was sure he would black out as the cab turned around and drove back past the sign; Vincent DePaul cemetery.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor kissed away the worries when he took your bag from you. Every detail of the interview was just hummed away. “Even if he finds me, without a body he has no case.” He reminded you like it was nothing short of fact.

“What if he gets one?”

“Not one of mine, I can assure you. He’d sooner need to kill someone himself and call it my fault.” A pause, was that something the detective would do? He shook off the thought. 

He was so confident that even though you knew it was just skin deep it still gave you a sense of calm. The bodies, where they went after he was done with them in the greenhouse, was the last step he hadn’t shared with you.

There was one thing you didn’t mention about the interrogation. 

You waited until you were a few drinks in, Alastor’s bowtie off and shirt unbuttoned several buttons before bringing it up. Uncharacteristically nervous about how he’d react when you broached the topic, you needed several deep breaths to get up your courage. Normally the idea of offending a man with an honest question wouldn’t ruffle you a bit, but once again there was nothing normal about you and Alastor. He made you so unlike yourself but not necessarily worse. Perhaps some consideration of other’s reactions wasn’t a bad thing. 

“This is awkward to ask.” It was dark already, the sun setting earlier and earlier. The buzz of the kitchen light could be heard through the screen door, the light just enough to let you see each other's features clearly. Leaning back on both hands for support, your legs rested in an unladylike spread down the porch stairs. No shoes. No girdle. No pretense.

Would he be mad? Or maybe offended?

“Brady said you had been going to my Sunday shows for awhile. Months before we actually met. Did you really meet me by coincidence?”

“Or was I stalking you as my next victim?” His head fell to the side, eyes closed and smile wide. “I saw you there, yes. And though you weren’t the best singer, I did enjoy your shows.”

You tried to see him without directly turning your head. 

“But yes, it was a coincidence. I had noticed that brute of a man a couple weeks in a row, staring at you so intensely. Word got around he had made a scene some time ago with a dancer.” 

You listened like someone was telling you your own story. It was an odd feeling, hearing someone recount your days from a different perspective. An unknown one. 

“I was surprised to see you at the theater when I followed him there. Even more so to see you in the alleyway.”

If he had said it wasn’t a coincidence, you genuinely didn’t know what you’d have done. You’d be scared and angry. Another predator lurking just past the tree lines.

Your relief must have been visible. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Alastor asked, leaning over and letting his shoulder bump into yours. He was still riding the high of putting away your belongings in his closet and drawers. 

“Yeah. He gives me a bad feeling. Like…a brick wall barreling toward me.” You kicked a leaf off the steps, “Or like, when you see a big dark cloud on the horizon. Can’t do anything but wait and hunker down.”

How do you wait out a storm so set on burying you?

“Dear,” his hands rose and palms flipped up in a way that said he wasn’t hiding anything, “We get hurricanes annually. We’ve survived every one thus far. He’s just a drip. A sprinkle of a man.”

People have drowned on land before. A sprinkle could lead to pneumonia and that could lead to a wooden box. 

He tried to change the topic, laughing about Brenda’s reaction to the call and making plans for an evening out when things settled down again. You listened, but it was your turn to be half there. 

You could barely muster concern when you realized you’d forgotten your makeup and hair wrap at home when you were preparing for bed. What you would give for going home barefaced with a ruined hairdo to be the biggest stress of your week. 

The distance in your stare was weighing down his joy, how could he relish in the newest addition to his home when you were so burdened? Even in the moonless night he could see the faintest light reflecting off your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. Did you even feel his stare? 

He couldn’t let Brady poison his bed, and the man was clearly there now. Chasing you in your mind still. 

“Could I offer you a distraction?” Alastor slipped up against you, hand finding your hip. He could see your smile forming. 

“I wouldn’t argue against a distraction…,” you’d beg for one if you didn’t want to feel any lower than you already did. 

“Perfect. This bed isn’t made for three, so let’s eject that little nag, dear.” His hands slipped down your legs, “I want to replace your thoughts with better ones.” He pulled you to him, your back pressed into his broad chest. The way his soft hands smoothed over your silk slip felt like foreplay, so smooth and slick. Frictionless and gentle. Those same hands ran down and between your legs, following the line of your thighs until they found your center. “It seems you forgot something else.” Two fingers caressed your lower lips, barely parting them, “Not that I’m complaining…,” his lips found the back of your neck as his fingers rubbed gently at your core. 

It took so very little to get your body on board, wet and relaxed for his practiced hand. Your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit quickly when you felt your pleasure winding up. 

He sighed directly into the shell of your ear, hands working in tandem with yours under the covers. His back pressed against you, hips rolling into your backside in time with his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” Barely above a whisper as he said it into your heated skin.

“Fingers.”

“Whose?” His voice was deeper than his usual speaking tone. A tenor that made you clench around him.

“Yours.”

You’d never been so satisfied with hands before. With breath. With the sounds of a man. Never saw stars while clothed and not under the lights of the stage. Warm and wet kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, you’d never considered sex could be more than a man fucking someone. Nor that a man could find pleasure so readily with his cock still in his pants. But the way he hummed and growled softly into your skin was proof of his good time. 

You’d learned a lot from those progressively chillier nights at Alastor’s over the first week of your constant cohabitation. How much you liked waking up with someone just a reach away. How Alastor woke slowly, incapable of coherent speech for at least the first twenty minutes of his day. He’d stare and smile as his eyes blinked out of sync, rolling back occasionally as he fought the urge to fall back into sleep. Hair disheveled and soft.

When the weekend came, Alastor offered again to take you out. A promise to take you somewhere no detectives would be hiding about. A week without a peep, you were sure he had followed up with your mother and was probably steaming to get at you. But, for some reason or another, he hadn’t appeared again in the crowd of your shows. 

A week of going into work unmade and unkempt, you finally gave in and asked to be taken to your apartment early Friday. You’d grab a few items you needed, take them to work, and be back home that night. 

Your eyes were on Alastor when his car pulled up to your building. When he kissed you, your hand scratched at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. Eyes closed, you could smell him and feel him so much clearer. Perhaps when you were old together you wouldn’t have to worry about your sight giving out, you thought. Because you’d always know it was him by the way his skin on yours lit you up. 

“Pack something you’d like to wear out tomorrow night.” He reminded you before you pulled yourself from the car and waved him off. You lingered for a moment as he drove away, wondering if maybe the storm had been pushed off course.

“Oooh, who is he?”

Whipping around, you saw a familiar face sitting on the stoop of your building. An unwelcome one, though. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mavis?” Your bag fell from your hands as the strength drained from your limbs.

She patted the dust off her dress before bouncing down the steps.  “The names Ephi now.” A half sister, though perhaps a quarter sister would be best to describe the often absentminded, when not literally absent, sibling. 

“That’s not a name that’s a fucking letter of the alphabet. Mama would smack the color of your cheeks if she heard you.” You were sure you’d not see her ever again, not after she ran off to head north before your mother passed. She scowled, arms crossed as you brushed past her. “I don’t have any money so you wasted a trip. See ya in another decade.”

Ephi grinned up at you as you climbed the stairs, “Looked like he had some money. Mr. Big Shot and his shiny bus.”

“Lotsa people have cars.” Your eyes landed on the suitcase poorly hidden behind the steps. Hand halting its search for the building key as you could feel the stare of your mother looking…down? A weight slipping over your shoulders like a man’s heavy winter coat.

“Well I don’t need money or cars. I need a place to crash.”

Your head fell. You could feel it coming. The gust of wind dragging the clouds slowly towards you. No, the storm wasn’t off course. It was just building momentum.

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

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[lizdive]

Heyy!! May i request father figure gallagher with a teenager reader who gets bullied and is stuck in a toxic friendship. For example how would he help reader out of the toxic friendship? And what would he do against the bullying?

(sorry my english sucks)

Gn or F reader n' platonic ofc

Don’t worry anon you’re english is amazing <33 To anyone who’s in a toxic friendship, please know it’s important to always think about yourself first. Cut off anyone who brings negativity in your life because you’ll find those who will bring positivity in your life one day and it’ll be worth it !! Thank you for requesting and if you’re unsatisfied tell me and I’ll redo it <33

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" used to refer to reader ,, reader is a teenager ,, bullying and toxic behavior from others ,, platonic relationships ,, it’s implied Gallagher only exists in the dreamscape snd reader is in both reality and dreamscape ,, idk if penacony has school ?? ,, hopefully i did this right ,, not proofread ignore typos

⭑ Taking you in as his own was probably GALLAGHER’s best choice in life. You were a good kid — at least around him — and you didn’t cause much trouble around the bar as you helped him out.

⭑ GALLAGHER wasn’t too involved in your social and school life if you have one. Do as you please as long as you get decent grades (he cared more for your health than some numbers) and be friends with whoever you want to he as long as they do you no harm. If you’re happy and content, he’s happy and content.

⭑ So when you begin to return to the bar looking a bit upset, he got worried. "Hey kid, you okay?" He’ll ask, but when you dodge the question and change the subject or tell him you’re fine he’ll get even more worried. He won’f push but he’ll be more attentive to your behavior.

⭑ GALLAGHER will notice how your confidence dims with every time you enter the bar. He’ll notice how you’re more attentive to your phone as if waiting for a specific notification and how you get even more upset when it never comes.

⭑ How you tell him you’ll be hanging out with your 'friends' only for you to show up at the bar to help out, telling him that they canceled or forgot to tell you the time or some other dumb excuse that has him irritated and annoyed with your so called 'friends'.

⭑ As states above, he isn’t too involved with your social life. However he can see how your 'friends' are just using you and discarding you and how they doesn’t even try to hide their blatant lack of care. They don’t appreciate what you do for them and do not reciprocate it.

⭑ It’s when you bring your 'friends' to hang out at the bar that he watched firsthand as they disrespect you — be it by violating your physical boundaries, making mean jokes at your expense, making you get their drinks, etc.

⭑ Whenever you try to call them out they guilt trip you and gaslight you, painting you as the one in the wrong even though you’re as innocent as an angel.

⭑ GALLAGHER will step in the second he sees their unacceptable behavior. He might be a bit petty and purposefully make their drinks wrong or bad. He’ll keep a close eye on them which will make them quiet down since he’s giving them a mean glare whenever they say something mean. However if it gets too bad that they’re hitting you as a so called 'joke' then he’ll confront them face to face.

⭑ He’ll try not to cause a scene, especially if you’re present (he’d confront them if you were somewhere else like in the restroom or smth), but if they’re being difficult he won’t hesitate to just kick them out. He has experience as a security officer.

⭑ If you get upset, he’ll try to comfort you and make you understand why he kicked them out / made them leave.

⭑ If they try to curse you out via calls or messages they won’t be able to do so. GALLAGHER will encourage you to block them and deleting their numbers from your phone. He might even do it himself.

⭑ "Their number was deleted off your phone? Huh, that’s weird," He says, knowing damn well he was the one who deleted their numbers from your phone while you were in the back room getting some ingredients.

⭑ If you’re scared because they might do something bad to you, he’ll make sure you’ll stay safe so don’t worry. He has his ways. Also if you don’t know how to fight he’ll teach you so you can defend yourself should they try to gang up on you.

⭑ They were your only friends? Hey, don’t be upset. Penacony is a big place with a huge hotel filled with so many different people that would be blessed to be your friend. You’ll find the right people, and he’ll help you if you’re not a social person!

⭑ GALLAGHER will also scare off any bullies that you tell him about.

⭑ If their words get to you and you feel insecure, GALLAGHER will be there to comfort you and reassure you that you’re handsome/beautiful/pretty/etc. just the way you are. You don’t need to change anything. Those people are just jealous of how talented you are.

⭑ The people at the bar will probably also protect and comfort you. A friend (or in this case kid) of GALLAGHER is a friend of theirs. They’ll compliment you on your looks, your personality, your skills — trust that you’re confidence will be built back up pretty quickly.

[chrizztopher97]

WARNING: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Idol!Chan, Fan!FemReader, swearing, oral, piv, unprotected sex, breast play, praise, name calling.

It has been a day ever since you went to Stray Kids tour date in Seoul and you just couldn't get Chan's solo stage off your mind.

You were sitting in the park with your laptop on the picnic table, one tab playing over and over the HD video they uploaded not long after the concert you experienced and the image of him stripping the jacket off of himself while staring right your way just kept on popping on.

You knew he was just staring blankly but just the idea of him taking off his clothes while looking right into your eyes made you fold in half.

Unable to resist it, you started writing a smut but all you could write was a scene of you begging and pleading, asking him to suck him off, begging him to fuck you in every way possible.

Lost in your own imagination you visioned everything you wrote and as the image of him entering you from the side, lying down on your bed while he held your leg up with his face buried in your neck you jumped on the bench and took your face in your hands.

"I'm definitely out of my mind..." You exasperated as you started deleting the entire line.

"Hey hey, I'm still reading." A voice mumbled from behind your shoulder making you turn around before closing the laptop.

Tumblr will save it for you anyways.

"When.. what.. why?" You could only ask as he, the main thought of your sinful thoughts was pouting at your action.

"I've been here ever since you started writing it." He mumbled sitting next to you, "as for the what, I was kinda curious since you typed so fast while listening on repeat to my song." his eyes looked at you and you could see a faint smirk on his lips. "As for the reason, well you kept on repeating my name over and over so I just came."

Pointing at the now closed laptop, he chuckled. "Well, not yet."

"I don't know if I should apologise for writing such things about you or be mad at your teasing..." You whined as you sat on the bench.

"I think you should apologise..." He mumbled making your heart stop and the realisation of doing something bad hitting you. "for not continuing and almost deleting the entire thing." He whispered taking the laptop.

The need to fight back to get it back was there but a part of you wanted to know what he liked just by him reading your scenarios.

"Just don't mind me and continue." He said passing the laptop to your way.

"You-" Taking a deep breath you unlocked the pc and bit your lip. "but don't get all sensitive later." You mumbled.

Closing your eyes for a moment was enough to let your own thoughts flow from your head, envisioning it in the back of your eyelids, to finally flow in your fingers.

A scene of you on your knees begging to suck him off while he looked down at you, your fingers trembled as you typed.

The Y/N of that one story was you and you wanted to write all the things you craved. Every single thing you wanted him to do to you.

Writing about how you wanted him to hold your head, massaging your scalp while you took all of him deep down your throat.

Noting down the way you wanted him to manhandle you, hold you by the hips while he kissed you so passionately.

As if you forgot where you were, a soft whimper escaped your lips as your breathing became unstable and shaky. Your thighs pressed together while in your eyes you could see everything so clearly.

Him holding you in his arms while you rode him, you calling his name over and over, pleading him to love you, begging for his existence.

"Fuck." You gasped standing up and retracting from your seat but an arm sneaked behind you, holding you still.

Almost forcing you to sit back down and so you did. How could you not when he was right there, beside you. Reading straight into your mind.

Your naked thoughts revealed to him. Your soul completely exposed while your heart busted inside your chest, begging for his love and attention.

"Go on." He whispered in your ear.

That's when you finally lost it. Your sanity disappeared making you write something you've never thought you would ever.

Exposing your own preference in bed as you wrote a scene where he railed you over and over, you begging for more, clinging onto him for dear life as you screamed over and over 'more'.

Describing how he held you down, kissing you everywhere, indulging you in the sweetest sinful pleasure between two souls. His hands all over you, his hard length slipping in and out of you with squelching noises while your throbbing core clamped down on him, your hands grabbing every part of him, your nails digging in his skin as he pressed deeper and harder.

A railway of emotions washed over you as you felt yourself nearing an orgasm by solely imagine the scene.

Completing the page, you bit down on your lip and saved it as a draft before turning off the laptop and look down.

"I think it's best if I go at home..." You mumbled as you stood up slowly.

He hummed in response standing up and grabbing your laptop case before grabbing your stuff and look at you. "I'll walk you home."

Looking up to him you shook your head. God knows what you would have done to him if you were near your apartment.

"There's no need." Was all you could say even if you craved more of his company.

"It's late." He just said, his head loaming above yours as if to engulf you in his presence.

═══════☆♡☆═══════

As you stood in front of your apartment door, you grabbed your laptop and held it in your arms. Feeling your legs weak, you leaned onto the wall as you stared at him.

Wanting to engrave in your memory the way his face looked up close before he'd disappear from your life as if you've never even met.

Engraving the way his eyes stared at you, the way his parted lips shaped the form of a heart, the way his breathing sounded shallow, the way that hoodie enveloped his toned chest.

Oh... how bad you had it for him. You already knew that you'd miss him already.

"What's your username on tumblr?" His voice came out so softly.

It felt as if you've heard him only in your head.

"Chrizztopher97..." You whispered shyly.

Noting it down on his phone, he tossed it inside his pocket once again before coming closer, his body a few inches from yours as he stared down at you.

The way his body engulfed you making you disappear from sight, just that was enough to make the butterflies fly all around your body.

"Sweet dreams..." He whispered leaning in to plant a caste kiss on your forehead before taking a couple of steps back.

"You too..." Your heart fluttered at the way his soft lips felt on your skin yet it left a burning feeling lingering there.

Smiling softly you looked at him for a moment before unlocking your door and enter the apartment. Leaving all your stuff at the door, without shoes you went back outside hoping he was still there and thankfully he was.

"Christopher." You stopped in front of the elevator. "Stay with me," you pleaded as you looked at him. "please."

Walking out of the elevator, he took a step then another and another until you found yourself trapped against your door. "Want me to stay?" He whispered as his eyes gazed right into yours.

Nodding as you lost yourself in his eyes, you heard the door unlock and his voice softened. "Forgive me, I saw the code..." He whispered before holding you by the hips and pushing the door open.

His body heaving as he breathed shakily, his feet stumbling on each other just to get rid of his own shoes. His foot kicking the door shut before he walked blindly with you as the source of his eyes.

"What shall I do to you, hmm?" His words ringed in your ears as he leaned over.

His lips a few inches from yours.

"Kiss me, please..." Your voice trembled as all you wanted was him.

All of him.

There, the throbbing feeling, that shaky and ragged breathing you had whenever you were about to faint yet, it was all because you craved for him.

Without saying anything he let his lips touch yours in a soft motion, a simple peck stamped on your lips before looking at you for a moment and let loose.

His lips now finally locked with yours in a slow, intimate kiss. His hands moving behind your back, pushing you closer to him as the both of you indulged in a marvellous kiss that made the tender feeling turn into pure hunger.

Your hands rested around the nape of his neck, slowly taking off his beanie and tossing it somewhere in the living room before letting your hands bury themselves in the lock of his soft curls.

His hand slowly moving down the curve of your back, cupping the ass cheek softly yet tightly. Making the first sinful sound escape your lips and flow into his mouth making a muffled grunt come out.

"Up." Was all he needed to say for you to understand what he wanted.

Jumping in his arms, he held onto your ass and sat onto the couch with you on his lap.

Heated and with trembling hands you reached the edge of his hoodie. Slowly sneaking your hand on his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs, grazing it lightly with your nails.

Head on cloud nine as your tongues swirled around each other, his plush lips pressed on yours while unholy moans escaped both your mouths, gulping each other's breath down.

Out of breath, you rested your forehead on his. Eyes closed as you took in the scent of him, his cologne now lingering on your shirt.

"Give me your hands." He whispered softly as he leaned back.

Without objecting you obeyed.

Taking your hands in his, he kissed your fingers before cupping his cheeks with your hands.

With softened eyes you smiled. He might have looked very appetizing after that heated kiss, but he still looked so adorable.

Tracing the outline of his lips, you leaned in to steal a kiss. "Can I do this?" You questioned, eyes half lidded as you stole more kisses.

He didn't answer, he just let you do what you wanted.

He was now breathing shallowly, as if to calm himself.

Kissing his lips over and over, you let yourself loose. Lips trailing on his neck, softly biting on his skin making him grip tight on your butt. Your hands moved down, feeling his body over the soft material of his sweatshirt.

Lifting it slowly, you looked at him for approval and with a kiss on your cheek he sighed and helped you get rid of it.

Gulping down at the sight of his bare torso, you bit down on your lip before throwing the hoodie somewhere and kiss his skin. From his neck to his shoulder, making sure to not leave marks on him. Just to not get him in trouble.

Slowly getting up from his lap, you leaned in to kiss behind his ear before going down on your knees, his prominent bulge facing your eyes.

"Can I suck you off?" You whispered softly as you ran your hands up his legs and along his thighs, reaching for the waistband of his shorts.

"Want me?" He breathed as he took your hands and curved your fingers around the waistband, pulling it down.

Eyes locked on his, you got rid of everything he was wearing.

His hand trailed along your arm, reaching your head he massaged your scalp and smiled. "All yours."

Licking your lips you moved your hands on his thighs as you kissed the soft skin of his inner thigh before slowly moving in the middle.

Letting out a soft chuckle you looked up to him. "First the chest and now the dick... I've definitely lived this moment before..." You mumbled before taking his erection in your hand.

Slowly stroking him you kissed the leaking head, licking slowly and tasting his precum. The pineapple definitely worked on him.

Looking up into his eyes you started taking his cock in your mouth, stuffing yourself full of him, slowly moving your head as you sucked him deliciously.

"Pretty, if you keep it like this I might explode in your mouth..." He huffed as he jerked his hips against your head.

"Hmm." Stuffed with him you gently took his balls and massaged them as you deepthroated him.

"Shit, baby girl..." He moaned as he took a hold of your hair in his hand, pushing himself further.

Jerking his hips he slipped his hardness inside your mouth, your tongue wetting his length as he slid in and out until he reached his high. Pulling out of your face, spurts of cum hit your flushed face.

"Oh Gosh." He breathed looking at you, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Should have known by the way you wrote that page." He chuckled standing up. "You want me desperately to the point that everything you've imagined so far has trained you to be my good girl."

Taking your hands he made you stand up. Removing your shirt, he unclasped the bra effortlessly before burying his face between your breasts. "Where's your room?" He asked patting your ass as if to make you jump in his arms.

"On the right." You huffed, the feeling of his lips kissing your soft skin made you shiver.

Humming in response, he walked following your instructions. Door opened and the bed welcoming the both of you, wishing you a beautiful and sinful night of pure bliss.

Falling onto the mattress he hovered over you, his chest heaving as he kissed your exposed skin over and over, biting and leaving marks on your skin.

Fingers buried in his hair you gently tugged at his hair making his erection twitch against your leg.

"You guessed it right." He whispered as he removed your shorts slowly, tossing them away. "I do have a kink for my girl pleading and begging to have me."

"Lord have mercy..." You whined as he kissed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before burying his face on your cunt.

Tongue dipped in your slick hole, licking stripes of your wetness making him grunt in approval. "Taste so good... hmm..."

Rolling your eyes, your back arched and he took the chance to put the small pillow under the curve of your back before focusing back on his task. Eating you.

He ate you as if he starved all his life, he starved as if he has been waiting for you all these years.

Lips brushing between your outer lips, making out shamelessly with your cunt, muffling incoherent sweet praises as he sucked on your clit while one of his hands cupped your tit, playing with both nipples. The other kept your folds open as he kissed you and licked you sloppily.

Head over heels, head in the clouds you came unannounced, coating his mouth and chin with your slickness.

"Chris... please I need you..." You pleaded tugging at his hair gently.

"I'm here." He whispered while kissing up your body, reaching for your lips.

With a hand he caressed your body, your breasts, your stomach, your hip, your thigh, your leg. His lips remained on yours as he moved between your legs.

His hand reaching for your folds, sinking two of his fingers in with ease. "Is it the slickness or are you completely comfortable with me?" He asked kissing your cheek.

"Both." You smiled as he kissed your forehead.

"With no protection though..." He mumbled looking around your room.

"I haven't had sex in years." You mumbled looking away. "And I've been going to the gynaecologist every month." Your hands moved on his back. "I'm clean and I trust you in cumming outside."

"Next time I'll make sure to get condoms..." He mumbled widening your legs more before diving in.

A gasp escaped both your lips as he pushed deeper inside you. His twitching erection finally inside your long waiting cunt, welcoming him like a velvet glove.

"You're such a beauty." He smiled kissing your face as his hips jerked in and out, his cock dipping in and out of you with squelching noises.

"You're the most handsome guy I've ever met." You smiled as you played with his hair.

"I'm not even that hand-" He started speaking but you cut him off with a kiss.

"Shut it. Never say that ever again." You mumbled indulging into a slow kiss which he gladly accepted.

It didn't take long for him to lose all his restraint and start being vocal about how good you felt, how good he wanted to fuck you, how beautiful and sexy you were.

He was so lost in you to the point that after cumming and making a heart shaped puddle on your stomach, he let you suck him off a few times before diving back inside of your wet core.

Lying on the side, he pulled up your leg and thrusted inside of you slowly yet deeply. The rhythm being in good harmony with your moany breathings.

Hickeys resting on your skin as you fought against the need of marking him yours.

"Is it too late to admit something?" He asked as he pressed himself deeper before moving once again.

Looking behind at him, a slight fear came over you.

"I don't have a girlfriend and I am genuinely loving this." He huffed. "And that's for the record." He poked your hip.

"You made me almost have a heart attack." You whined placing a hand over your chest.

Sneaking his hand up from your clit, he rested his hand on yours. "I did stare at you when I was doing the solo stage."

Biting your neck softly before nibbling on your earlobe, he smiled. "You were the only one who was actually looking at me and not filming me."

"Because I needed to experience that strip tease and needed full focus." You joked as you swayed your hips to encounter his thrusts.

"I'm pretty sure you also mouthed me a 'fuck me, please'." He teased as he slipped out and got on his knees before cumming on your chest.

"With all those lights, you saw that?" You questioned in disbelief as he brought his fingers in his mouth before inserting them in your core.

Finger-fucking you, he looked down at you and smirked. "Also you're really easy to read."

Furrowing your brows, he hit that sweet spot making your legs tremble and fall loose as you came all over his hand.

"Especially if you keep on looking at me as if you'd give me all of you." He chuckled leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. "I'll get something to clean you."

Sucking on his fingers he smiled to himself before standing up and going for the bathroom. Not long after he came with a water bottle and a wash cloth.

After cleaning your body, he gave you some water before wrapping his arms around your body.

Exhaustion finally kicking in as he melt in your embrace.

"Remember to give me your number before I go tomorrow." He whispered kissing your forehead.

His fingers massaging your scalp as he kissed your face. Smiling you nodded before kissing him over and over.

"Raw feels good though..." You pouted making him look at you dumbfounded and then chuckling.

"Bet you have some breeding kink." He giggled hugging you tightly.

"I have a severe Bang Chan breeding me kink." You admitted which made him burst out in laughter.

"Guess I'll need to fuck some sense into you." He mumbled shaking his head.

Kissing his chest you just stroke your nose on his soft pec before kissing it and dozing off.

"You adorable thing." He whispered before falling asleep himself.

[diazsdimples]

Fic Writers Meme

Tagged by @inell

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

19

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

277,040

3. What fandoms do you write for?

9-1-1 but I did write a bunch of British Actor RPF back in high school lmao

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Buck's Baby (By Accident) (Buddie) How can this be wrong? (Bucktommy) For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) (Buddie) Sweet child of mine (Bucktommy) The heat of the moment (Buddie)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do, even though it takes me a second sometimes. I always appreciate people putting in the time to tell me what they thought of my stuff!

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

None of them? All my fics have happy endings

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

Probably For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) just for the hopeful Buckley-Diaz family feels but honestly any of them could work

8. Do you get hate on fics?

The occasional "this wouldn't happen in canon!!" and I'm like yeah! That's cause it's fiction!! But other than that, not really no.

9. Do you write smut?

9 of my 19 fics are smut and my smut fics are usually my longest. So, yep!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nope but I do write AUs based off premises from other things? Sort of?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Kind of? I deleted a fic once bc it wasn't a vibe for me (it was a request that I didn't love and didn't know how to say no) and the original requester of the fic, with whom I'd fallen out, messaged being like hey!! saw you deleted it!!! good news is I copied it into google docs before you could!!! Which I did not love

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I am currently co-writing 2 fics with @hippolotamus and one with @theotherbuckley, when I remember they exist 🫣

14. What is your all time favorite ship?

Buddie will always be my go to for writing. I'm compelled a lot by Bucktommy and Buddietommy (and Eddietommy lbr) but for the most part if I come up with an AU, it'll be a Buddie one.

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

Single Dads AU or Frostpunk AU. They've just been around for so long that I feel like people have either forgotten or are sick of them and I just have No Beans for them

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oof I don't know, I think maybe coming up with plots/ compelling storylines

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I feel like I struggle most with describing things and emotions and if there's a scene that very emotion heavy it'll take me a long time to write it because I agonise over the correct words to use.

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

I wouldn't unless I had someone who spoke the language who was able to help guide me, mostly because I don't want to make mistakes

19. First fandom you wrote for?

British Actor RPF (specifically Tom Hiddleston/Benedict Cumberbatch

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Play me like a fiddle is my baby, will always be my baby, and it is my most beloved. 34k of Music Nerd James with a whole load of Buddie feels and closet sex. Idk, I peaked there tbh

NP tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @buckera @watchyourbuck

@spotsandsocks @bidisasterevankinard @bigfootsmom @wikiangela @jesuisici33

@rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings and anyone else who wants to share their stuff! (And if I forgot anyone, I apologise)

[nappingpaperclip]

“People who tell you not to vote Biden are psyops trying to steal left votes” type posts are pro-government propoganda.

Last time y’all spread that bullshit around the blogs getting deleted for being “Russian spies” were black leftists.

NOT EVERYONE WHO DISAGREES WITH YOU IS A PSYOP. Get real!!

Not everyone who criticizes Biden or says they won’t be voting for a genocider and that you shouldn’t either wants you to vote for Trump or not vote!! Third party candidates exist!!! Write ins exist!!! If we actually organized instead of y’all pulling the “lesser evil” bs about a GENOCIDAL RACIST RAPIST OLD MAN we might actually see some fuckin progress!!

Did y’all forget Biden is a rapist?????

Btw is the “left” in the room with us? Where is the left? Where is the progress y’all keep claiming Biden is making?

Last time I checked Biden has not let those kids out of cages, has personally approved more huge pipelines that run through Indigenous lands and speed up climate change, has ex-BlackRock leaders (yknow, the top 10 climate change villains company who also funds most American private prisons as well as funding arms manufacturing companies, who spend millions lobbying politicians on environmental regulations, immigration and drug policy) in his cabinet, increased police and military budget, didn’t codify Roe v Wade, in fact he held it hostage for votes, hasn’t codified gay marriage or trans rights, hasn’t legalized marijuana, hasn’t raised the federal minimum wage, oh and also is DOING GENOCIDE in case y’all forgot or wanna tiptoe around the “some bad policies” y’all always talk about

Did y’all forget about his “nothing will fundamentally change” policy?

Y’all heard that and thought “left”?? Babes he’s a right leaning centrist AT BEST.

There are actually left candidates btw! Ones who care about things like Landback and reparations and free healthcare and education and sustainability! The ones y’all are telling people are throwaway votes/votes for Trump!! (Which isn’t even how the electoral college works btw)

So us telling y’all not to vote for a genocider makes us Russian psyop spies but y’all telling us not to vote for leftist third party candidates doesn’t? K.

Vote for who you want, I don’t give a fuck anymore, BUT DONT TELL HIM HE STILL HAS YOUR UNCONDITIONAL SUPPORT WHILE HES COMMITTING GENOCIDE IF YOU ACTUALLY WANT HIM TO STOP

The only way to get a politician to stop doing WAR CRIMES is to tell them you won’t vote for them or give them money or otherwise support them until they stop!

You can fucking lie if you want!!! All we’re asking is for y’all not to publicly announce Genocide Joe still has your unconditional support WHILE HES DOING GENOCIDE

His approval ratings are literally less than Trumps!

He has no one to blame but himself.

If he loses in November, I don’t want to hear y’all bitch and moan and blame black people or disillusioned voters or third party voters or “Russian spies” again like y’all did in 2016, I don’t want to see y’all blame anyone but him, BLAME BIDEN FOR HIS OWN ACTIONS. HE IS A GROWN MAN AND HAS THE MONEY AND POWER TO STOP IT IF HE ACTUALLY WANTED TO.

Y’all keep saying he’s doing his best to stop it, that he’s working behind the scenes, that he’s trying, IF HES TRYING WHY ARE WE STILL SENDING ISRAEL MONEY?

IF HE IS TRYING, WHY DID HE SEND ISRAEL MILLIONS OF DOLLARS IN SMALL PAYMENTS TO AVOID NOTIFYING CONGRESS?

IF HES TRYING WHY HAVE WE NOT SANCTIONED ISRAEL?

IF HES TRYING, WHY HAVE US SOLDIERS BEEN SEEN FIGHTING ALONGSIDE THE IDF?

IF HES TRYING WHY ARE WE SENDING EXPIRED MREs AS AID? EXPIRED FOOD DROPS THAT ARE NOT ENOUGH TO FEED MILLIONS OF STARVING PEOPLE, WITH FAULTY PARACHUTES THAT KILL CHILDREN?

IF HES TRYING, WHY DID WE BUILD A PORT CUTTING THE GAZA STRIP IN HALF, A PORT THAT NETANYAHU SAID WOULD BE USED TO DEPORT PALESTINIANS?

IF HES TRYING WHY DID HE SIGN OFF $14 BILLION FUCKING DOLLARS ON TOP OF THE ANNUAL CONTRACT AND SMALL SECRET PAYMENTS TO GO TOWARDS ISRAELS BOMBS AND GUNS AND FREE HEALTHCARE WHILE IGNORING THE PEOPLE HERE WHO NEED FOOD, HOUSES, AND HEALTHCARE???

DONT MAKE UP RUSSIAN SPIES TO POINT FINGERS AT! IF HE DOESNT WANT TO LOSE HE SHOULDNT DO GENOCIDE

IF GENOCIDE JOE LOSES THE ELECTION FUCKING BLAME HIM FOR DOING A GENOCIDE!!

[physalian]

#Writer Problems

Meet the 15th character in this series with a name that starts with A! No one will notice hahaha

Going back and deleting the sighs to shake things up a bit because there’s 120 in the manuscript

*checks notes* whoops you died already, Side Character, my bad

*one paragraph* Perfect. Amazing. Poetic. Profound. *the next paragraph* what is words do?

Knocking out a 6k word chapter in an hour/Spending a week on a single transition

*slaps down a shiny new character with zero plan* You don’t know anything about them and neither do I, let’s discover them together

Realistically, there’s gotta be at least one casualty from this fantasy battle so…. *rolls dice* no not you. *rolls dice again* yep. That’ll do. Sorry, pal.

Is this badass or stupid?

Is this hot or cringey?

*checks notes* damn it, plot hole.

Upon this most recent round of edits, you, Cool Side Character, no longer made the cut. Mayhaps you’ll be recycled later.

*checks notes* damn it, I fixed that plot hole by opening another plot hole.

Jesus christ I wrote ‘just’ 308 times across 120k words?

That is definitely not how you spell that

*dreams about my characters in full HD technicolor* awwww yeah, where’s the popcorn? *cannot replicate how cool it was in actual words*

Unes- Unnecs- Unessis- Unnessessarily- Unnecessarily fuck

Do I go with the British grey or the American gray?

*cries* this epic was supposed to be a novella

Well these two were supposed to be having an argument here. But making out is fine. I’d like to see where this goes.

Oops I forgot the straights, here that nameless dude over there isn't confirmed gay, so you can headcanon that he's straight if you want

Oops I forgot that marriage exists uhhh yeah their other parents are all dead or deadbeats

Fuck love triangles here’s a double-helix dodecahedron.

One day my fandom will write so much smut about this guy and I am here for it cause I sure ain’t doing it myself

Oops I forgot people with green eyes exist but brown eyes? I got 20

*describing the writing process* It was the best of times, it was the worst of times it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

I. Hate. Chapter. Titles.

Is this profound or pretentious?

*crafts an absolutely banger metaphor* I hope someone notices this. I put a lot of work into it

I didn’t spend 6 months perfecting this masterpiece for you to sass that the curtains are just blue. I’ll write the goddamn essay myself about all the depth behind my color choices, sir.

Picture that Spongebob dehydrated in Sandy’s treehouse meme ‘cause that’s me on round 12 of edits

I gotta be up for work in 4 hours but this monologue is more important

*distills 30 pages of worldbuilding notes into 2 paragraphs of a fluff scene* somebody will appreciate this, won’t they?

*listening to my book playlist* one day when this is adapted I hope this artist is still alive to compose the main theme cause this shit fucks

*cries* this trilogy was supposed to be just one book

If I turn this plot hole into a character flaw, they become the problem while I remain god

*looting themes, monologues, character names, and archetypes off the corpses of my dead WIPs* You won’t miss them anyway.

While it also immortalizes this person’s dickish behavior, yes, I will, in fact, write a whole character’s backstory as a middle-finger to this one bitch from 10 years ago.

*steps back to gaze at all the suffering done unto my deuteragonist* but it was worth it, wasn’t it?

*staring down yet another loathsome action set piece* whyyyyy do I do this to myself?

Nobody’ll notice my author insert if I dice them up and divvy them out in bits to my entire cast, right? Right? It’s like a shell game of what’s author and what’s fiction

These two are going to be a problematic ship one day and I will burn that bridge when I get there

*2am and I am scouring the internet for that one piece of a fort’s defenses because not remembering is the current root of my insomnia*

*Nudging my favorite character who isn’t the protagonist out onto stage* golly I hope the readers like him

Waiting. For. Editors. Takes. So. Long.

Holy butts accidental motif and deep symbolism fucks. I am so pretending I did that on purpose.

To subtext or not to subtext? Nah, to subtext. *laughs maniacally*

Trying to ride that line between so obvious it’s painful but also juuust enough foreshadowing so you slap yourself for not seeing it sooner

TIL that I have been using that word completely wrong for years. How quaint.

No you’re derivative schlock. I’m crowd surfing the books that came before and loving every second of it.

Damn I wasted a really good name on this throwaway character

*checks notes* wait, who's taller? Where does your hair part? Are you left or right-handed?

*musing over a character slated for death* damn, I really like you. Since I am in fact god, you shall live another day. *rewerites the entire finale*

God I hope people like this story

[purplephloxpress]

总有一天 a place to hide (can't find one near) - yiqie

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

I had SO MUCH FUN with this bind! This one had a lot of firsts for me, and is one that I really poured my heart into due to its particular emotional impact on me (tl;dr - I was a piano major in college, burned out, this fic helped me fall in love with music again). It's an Untamed WangXian Pianists AU (TW for anyone interested that it deals with attempted suicide and life following that) and I tried to tie that into the design details literally everywhere I could think of. Black and white cover paper, music note scene breaks, and my absolute favorite part to create: sheet music title pages. The particular song used for that is a recurring motif in the fic and one that means a lot to me personally, and I knew I wanted to include it somehow. Unfortunately I couldn't find an existing image of the sheet music that was high enough quality to use how I wanted, so I used a sheet music program to input it myself!

This book was my first time doing any sort of edge decoration, and I had fun figuring out how to splatter paint with a toothbrush (Spouse: is that supposed to be blood? Me: no but also... kind of?) and it was also my first time doing endbands! (Shout out to the friends who walked me through it over voice chat one evening, and then rolled their eyes when I announced that I'd torn them out and done them over again. Twice.) I went with red and black for both of those parts to match the main characters canonical color scheme, and also because I liked the dramatic pop of color against the black and white cover.

Spine titling was done once again with a foil quill, and I decided to paint the Chinese title of the fic on the cover. I couldn't find a paintbrush that let me get as fine tipped and detailed as I wanted so I may or may not have used a toothpick to paint it on.

I prevailed over: somehow deleted half of my page numbers and had to reprint the WHOLE THING! Forgot to measure the boards as part of my spine width and had to do surgery with 2mm strips of paper! (Thankfully had allowed plenty of hinge because I didn't realize until I'd finished ALL of the titling and I would have cried if I couldn't salvage it) Truly this is my child and I adore how it turned out. Is it perfect? No. Are there things I would change? Sure. But I learned and I did and I'm so goddamn proud of it!

(See below the cut if you want specific details on the binding)

What pieces went into making it:

Fandom: The Untamed

Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji

Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji

Bookcloth: black Brillianta

Cover paper: black and silver marbled lokta

Endpapers: red cardstock

Titling: foil quill, acrylic paint, acrylic paint pen

Endbands: leather cording for the core, DMC embroidery thread for the bands

Body font: Adobe Garamond Pro

Title fonts: Long Cang and Canva Holiday

Text message font: Nirmala UI

Scene breaks created in Canva

Title page sheet music created using MuseScore

[theology101]

Just take my heart and stomp on it, huh, Halo.

I forgot how hard this scene hits like OH MY GOD!. The Weapon just learned about Cortana's actions and is horrified, and is horrified that she will be here.

But this always kills me. "My mission is to ensure that doesn't happen. It still is."

What the Weapon heard: You are a threat that I am prepared to eliminate.

What John was saying: I lost Cortana because I wasn't there for her, and I am not going to lose you the same way.

God, this is the best. It just is so sad it makes my stomach hurt OH I love it so much. The Weapon's entire self worth was based on being useful, being a Weapon, and Chief started to expand her, improve her and change her view of the world and herself. And then he tried to delete her and she felt fear. That should have been impossible for an AI - it would have, if Chief hadn't treated her with respect and faith in her capabilities.

But when she's hostile post deletion attempt? She's aggressive not at Chief, she's trying to defend her own existence and has found her silent supporter has rejected her. Finding the recording, learning Cortana's sins, fully convinces her that she deserved to die. Master Chief's determination only convinced her further.

But she was wrong!

Chief would rather die then risk losing his daughter. Even if it took him a minute to get that too. Cortana's death was Chief's fault, he thinks, as was her evil. He knows the Weapon isn't evil, therefore the only reason he would need to kill her... would be if he failed again.

God I love it.

[valeriianz]

in the spirit of dreamling week, here's a scene i wrote for the last chapter of Let Me Down Easy that i deleted, where they do get frisky in bed (nothing explicit). so please don't read this if you haven't finished that fic yet!

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

When Hob wakes, it’s to the feeling of someone combing fingers through his hair.

He hums, unconsciously smothering himself against the hot body next to him and hearing a sharp intake of breath above him.

“Hob,” a deep, melodious voice speaks. “Hob, are you awake?”

“Dream?” Hob blearily responds, blinking his eyes open as he comes to full consciousness.

He looks up and finds Dream staring down at him. Slowly, events of the day before come flooding back into his brain.

“Oh my God…” Hob mumbles and the fingers in his hair halt at once.

“Is…” Dream shuts his mouth, licking his lips and starting over. “Is this alright, Hob?”

Hob continues to stare, his mouth dropping open.

“I can’t believe you’re still here.”

“Shit, Hob.” Dream chuckles warily, one brow raising. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Bit by bit, Hob takes Dream in. The stubble on his chin, the bags under his eyes, his sleep mussed hair and the wonderment in his eyes. Like he’s looking at Hob for the first time; like he’d never see him again, drinking in his fill, and it makes Hob want.

He sits up, ignoring all logic and reason to roll on top of Dream and pushing him back into the pillows, using the surprised gasp to lean forward and shove his tongue down Dream’s throat.

Dream’s mouth is sour and Hob’s sure his morning breath isn’t any better, but regardless Dream groans loudly, like a dragon purring over his treasure as he kisses back, getting his hands around Hob’s middle and holding on.

Hob breaks off with a salacious sound, getting his hands in raven black hair and pulling it to expose Dream’s neck.

“I thought we agreed to– ah.” Hob chuckles, managing to cut Dream off. He rolls his hips down, bringing attention to both of their arousals. “To take it slow.”

Hob bites at the skin behind Dream’s ear, pleased to see it’s still a sensitive area that makes Dream grab hold of him tightly and thrust up, tearing a moan out of both of them.

“Fuck slow,” Hob pants, rocking his hips in earnest now, the material of their sleep clothes causing frustrating, delicious friction. “I want you, now.”

Dream growls and Hob’s heart leaps in his chest as Dream bends his knees, trapping Hob in between them, and rolls them over with a strength that should not exist so early in the morning, pinning Hob underneath him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Hob grins, his hands landing on Dream’s thighs. 

Dream sits up, the blanket falling off him and he’s clearly about to pull his shirt off, when he stills, his head twitching.

And then Hob hears it, the distinct sound of a cell phone buzzing.

“Ignore it, Dream.”

Dream sighs, knocking his head back violently enough that Hob hears it crack.

“It’s my agent, I know it is.”

He leans down again, his hand diving under the pillow and retrieving his phone, pulling it up and swiping across the screen.

“Hello, Lucienne.” Dream looks down at Hob, biting his bottom lip and Hob is struck, almost like the first time they’d met, with how utterly and completely fucked he was. 

Because there was no way he couldn’t not love Dream. Wearing Hob’s old shirt, wrinkled and over-washed. His hair wild and uncombed, thick and begging Hob’s fingers to run through it. And the way his jaw dropped now, eyes squinting shut as a yawn tore through him as his agent– Lucienne– gave him a proper earful on the other side of the line.

“... apologies I forgot to inform you I wouldn’t be back… I didn’t mean to worry you…” He casts his eyes around the room, the fingers on his free hand walking down his thigh to meet with Hob’s, lacing them together and setting Hob’s heart on fire.

“... No I met up with–” his eyes swing back to Hob and Hob raises an eyebrow, challengingly. Dream’s lips break out into a smirk. “I ran into an old friend, I stayed at his place…”

Hob looks down at where they are connected, Dream’s crotch settled comfortably against his, where Hob’s excitement is beginning to wane. He pushes his hips up, one hand digging into the flesh of Dream’s thigh and grinning at the way it makes Dream stutter into the phone. The glare he shoots at Hob is probably meant to be reprimanding, but it’s underlined with obvious interest that Hob doesn’t feel guilty at all for it. In fact, he caresses his hand up Dream’s thigh, his thumb digging particularly close to the slight tent in his pants, and up under his shirt, touching sleep soft, warm skin beneath.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just–” Dream’s jaw drops, eyes locked to Hob’s as Hob grips Dream’s hip and pulls him down just as he rolls his hips up again. “I– I have to go now.”

Dream starts meeting Hob’s thrusts again, deep and languid and Hob smirks victoriously, dropping Dream’s hand to get both of his on those thin hips now and pull Dream forward with a bit more force.

Dream nearly drops the phone, tearing his eyes away, taking a slow breath in and focusing on ending the conversation with Lucienne.

“No, of course I haven’t forgotten. I must be off now. I will see you tonight.”

Dream finally hangs up and drops the phone, grabbing Hob’s wandering hands and pinning them to either side of his head, leaning down with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“You are a menace, Hob Gadling.”

Hob grins. He’s missed this. How easy it is to be with Dream, to tease and taunt him. He feels five years younger, alive and full of reckless hope and love.

“Not the worse I’ve done,” Hob breathes, arching his neck up to bite Dream’s bottom lip.

[voolfman]

Flowers for You

SCTIR fic published on ao3 by voolfman

The first time the stranger was left a message on his new phone with his new number (his carrier sucked), he assumed it was from someone whose number he had forgotten to add.

“Yoohyun-ah, it-i- it's your hyung. You forgot your scarf at home. It's getting cold out, and I saw you walking around without one. Ju-just come home and get it? Please? I'm not mad anymore, I promise. Hyung….hyung is just so, so worried. I love you.”

He should have deleted the message. He should've texted the guy and let him know that his younger brother changed phone numbers. But he was busy; he got the message right at the end of his lunch break and his boss was such a hard-ass about being on time that he forgot. Until, he received another voice-mail a few days later.

“I guess you're not coming back for your scarf? That's alright, it's not a good scarf anyway. Second-hand, you probably want…wanted a nicer scarf. Maybe…maybe you would have stayed if hyung had bought you nicer scarves…I guess there's nothing I can offer you now. Even so, hyung misses you. Please come home.”

Then the texts began to start. And he read them. And listened to the voice-mails. He didn't delete any of them. It felt too cruel to erase the words that reeked of despair and loneliness. As if making them cease to exist would somehow erase the last vestiges of the lonely man. As if the man would cease to exist, never to make up with his younger brother.

“Your guild won't even let me in. I just wanted to drop off some of your favorite snacks… I'm sorry hyung couldn't afford better, but hyung’s budget’s been tight this month. I promise I'll save up better for next time! Happy birthday, Yoohyun-ah.” What a coincidence that Han Yoohyun’s birthday was the same day. And his older brother had decided to cause a scene in front of the Hayeon building that day.

It took an embarrassing amount of time to realize it, but eventually, he had to admit, he was receiving messages for THE Han Yooyhun, leader of Hayeon Guild, from THE Han Yoojin, his estranged and publicly renounced older brother. Which, having listened to the older man's heart broken messages and birthday well-wishes, made a lot of what the gossip-rags and mass media busybodies spread sound grossly out of proportion or just outright inaccurate.

One time, partly out of pity, probably out of morbid curiosity, he actually did answer the phone. It was back before he had known who was calling, back when he'd just had the man under the name “The Sad Hyung.”

All it took was the simple tap of an obnoxiously green circle with an outdated symbol of a phone most children wouldn't even recognize anymore from a screen that was too bright for the hour it was calling at.

There was an answering tone. Then silence. Then the whisper of a hushed and choked back sob.

“...Yooyhun-ah?” It was a desperate wish. A whisper of despair. It was the single drop of rain soaking into the ground of a scorched and barren forest.

But he couldn't reply to the voice over the phone, or the gig would be up. The hyung would know that his younger brother had cut off all contact with him. And then what? Who would the hyung talk to? What would he do to himself? He seemed so alone. At least this way his messages would be left on read. His voice-mails would be listened to.

He stayed silent on the other side of the line.

The voice was breaking. The signal was still strong. “Please Yooyhun-ah, what did hyung do wrong? I hate this. I miss you-” another choked back sob crackled through, “Please, can we meet just one last time so you can tell hyung what's going on? I-I’ll make your favorite eggs! Sunny-side up- just…just like you alw-”

The stranger hung up abruptly. He felt sick, his insides twisted like those balloons they gave to children at fairs and theme parks. A voice-mail was left on his phone a few minutes later. He never listened to that one. It was the only one he would never listen to. He thought he was going to throw up.

There were no new texts or voice-mails left for a few weeks afterward.

And that was his routine for the next few years. It wasn't every day he was sent texts and left messages. There were breaks of days, weeks, and as time passed, months.

It was after years that the texts and voice-mails finally stopped. At first he was concerned. It was a couple of months later, when he saw two brothers happily smiling at each other from the colorful pixels of a live broadcast on a billboard on his way home from work, that he was finally able to delete the texts and voice-mails.

Somewhere, in another timeline, the stranger listened for eight long years. As the messages became more bitter. More tinged with anger. Messages and voice-mails splashed with a deadly amount of alcohol and paranoia. Left with broken hearts and pain riddled gasps of leftover affection parsed through poison filled words and cries.

At one point, he learned that the older brother of Hayeon Guild had been sent to the hospital for alcohol poisoning and then sent to rehab. It was all over the news for a while. And then he was released and media mongers were all in a tizzy until they sniffed out something juicier. That was when the texts and the voice-mails started back up again. And that was when he knew. That was when he knew who's phone number he'd been given.

And eventually the messages became far and few between. And then eventually they were erased. And the stranger was erased. And the whole make-up of the world was erased. And the world was reset. And the messages were erased.

Han Yoohyun was not erased.

[womaninwinter]

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

(whoops I forgot about this for a hot second) thank you friend!!

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

hm, there are soooo many fics from old fandoms that I am mortified that I wrote. Fortunately, they are all deleted. For L&Co, I am pretty proud of most of it, although I now see that some of my earlier fics are not as good as I thought they were at the time. And I'm not sure that I would reeeeally choose to write Cutting Room Floor again. But it had quite a big impact, so from that perspective, I'm glad I did.

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

I love the moment between Lockwood and Quill in the last chapter of Gutted:

“What are you doing here?” His voice came out in its usual hospital rasp. Kipps put the heels of his stupid pointy boots on the edge of Lockwood’s bed. “You know how they say that there are things you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy?” Lockwood blinked at him. “I’ve heard of the concept.” “Well.” Kipps gestured at him with what appeared to be a disposable coffee cup. “Here we are.” Doped up as he was, it took Lockwood a second to parse this. Then he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your worst enemy?” “Don’t get a swelled head about it.” “I’m sixteen, Kipps. You’re nearly thirty. That’s kind of sad.” “I am not nearly —” Kipps broke off, apparently realising he was being baited. “That smack on the head didn’t make you any funnier.”

Just... really proud of this one.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Wildest ride for the reader or the writer?? For the reader, probably the Intruder, lol. That one starts crazy and stays crazy. For me as a writer, probably one I haven't actually published, because I started it and deleted it so many times. That was when I was having myself a lil freakout about fandom in general last summer. I am over that now, obvs.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

babe, you know the answer to this one, hahahaha. It's Sleep Token. Eveeeerything is Sleep Token right now. Particularly Jaws/Blood Sport. I also listened to this a lot while writing the St Anthony fic.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

literally any time, I just want some freaking time to WRITE ugh!!! I generally manage to carve out half an hour in the evening, right before bed.

💖 What made you start writing?

turned 30 and almost immediately had a crisis, complete with brand new hyperfixation and 100k+ of fic.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

Sometimes, when you write something well, you just know you've done good work and that's a kind of personal satisfaction no amount of gushing comments can give you. That said, I do also crave comments because I am a normal human being and I love attention.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Descriptions of food. Scripture quotes (okay, that one's on purpose). Advice my dad has given me. Characters struggling with self-loathing (I am FINE, fic is just cheaper than therapy and much more fun tbh)

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Action is definitely hard to do and I will tend to keep action scenes as short as humanly possible.