#i will happily share more snippets

[luveline]

Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty 

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible. 

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts. 

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential. 

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer? 

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord? 

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other. 

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world. 

“Yeah, hi. You okay?” 

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.” 

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?” 

“Do you want to get takeout?” 

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.” 

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.” 

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises. 

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight? 

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger. 

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in. 

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear. 

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.” 

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.” 

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.” 

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position. 

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.” 

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly. 

“I’m trying to.” 

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.” 

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.” 

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again. 

[losers-clvb]

mine // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x girlfriend!reader

summary: when the cassette player in the impala breaks during a roadtrip, you and the winchesters are forced to listen to the radio. however, when looking for a station, you come across a song by a certain blond singer and fall in love with it.

content: fluff, reader becomes a swiftie, dean (as a result of reader) becomes a swiftie, no use of y/n, sam is happily third wheeling, smut, oral (female receiving), making out, brief mentions of grinding

word count: 2.5k

note: happy ending for dean and reader this time! i am a swiftie, so it's no surprise that i had to write a fic with taylor incorporated. if it wasn't obvious by the title, the song mentioned throughout is 'mine' by taylor swift. there wasn't supposed to be smut, but the i was listening to 'so it goes...' by taylor and got a little carried away. this fic is very fitting because just a few days after starting to write it your girl secured the lover: live from paris vinyl!!! thank god, because lover is my favorite album. anyways, enjoy this, and look forward to more sam and dean fics coming because i am definitely not done writing!

masterlist

----

“Damn it!” You’d heard that about six times in the last five minutes. It had been a calm day of driving. Windows down, sun shining in, and Dean’s hand in yours. Sam had been in the backseat, laughing along as you told a story from your childhood. The background music to your tale had been the radio softly playing a cassette that Dean had chosen before beginning the journey from Virginia to Michigan. Or it had been the background music until the lead singer had been cut off mid word by a crunching sound. This prompted Dean to slam his hand on the radio a few times before proceeding to pull into any empty lot to get a closer look.

“I can fix this,” he had claimed as he fiddled around with random things surrounding the radio. You watched him with furrowed eyebrows, knowing he had little to no clue what he was doing. Even if he did somehow know how to fix the thing, there was no way he could do it without any tools. After the aforementioned slurry of curses, you finally put the man out of his misery and placed a hand on his arm.

“Dean, let’s just listen to the radio like normal people.” Your words brought a scoff from him and he sat up in his seat. Sam watched the two of you with amusement. It had been enjoyable to watch his brother fall in love with someone who could keep up with him. Though sometimes the stubborn attitude you shared with each other caused brief bickering, there was no one else Dean would rather spend the rest of his life with. He hadn’t told you in all those words, but everything else he had said and done had told you that much. Sam would say that his older brother would take a bullet for you if he hadn’t already watched how that turned out.

“Fine.” Dean grumbled out as he started the car back up. He let you find a station. He was confident in your skills to find a suitable station for driving in the Impala. You knew exactly what he liked and exactly what he couldn’t stand to listen to. And perhaps you did. But that day, when your fingers turned the dial through the stations and you caught a snippet of a song, you were choosing for yourself.

“-believe it?, As we’re lying on the couch,”

“This one!” You perked up as the female voice filled the vehicle.

“No.” Dean’s voice had a finality in it you didn’t like. You frowned and turned in your seat. His eyes were on the road but he watched your reaction from the corner of his eye as he flitted his attention from the road to you. You weren’t happy with him, that was obvious, and he knew you weren’t going to back down. Neither would he.

“Yes.” You pushed back as the song played on.

“No.” Dean repeated.

“Just for this song.” You offered, knowing you probably weren’t going to like the following songs anyways.

“Fine.” Your boyfriend gave in to you far easier than he would have if it had been anyone else. In the silence after, you hummed along to the song, not yet knowing the lyrics. Dean continued to watch you, smiling as he did so. By the last chorus, you could sing along.

“Who the hell even was that?” Dean asked once the song had started to fade out. As if in the car himself, the radio DJ responded.

“That was country music superstar Taylor Swift’s new single ‘Mine’ off her upcoming third album ‘Speak Now’. Next up,-”

You moved the dial again, knowing the song you had just listened to would end up being the only hit you would enjoy from the station. You landed on a station that was playing similar music as what was on the cassette. Dean grasped your hand in his and you interlocked fingers.

“Thank you, baby.” You said to him. You knew he would have given in to you no matter what, but you still wanted to make him feel appreciated. His response to you was a bright smile.

----

The next time the song was heard, it was from the speakers on your laptop. You were strictly a researcher for the boys. No physical hunting for you. There was one time you had attempted to join the boys on tracking a lone vampire. Dean was far too distracted by making sure you were never out of his sight that he had missed the vamp push past the group. It had ended with Sam almost getting his throat ripped out, which had really pissed him off. After that, it was only computer work for you. You hadn’t complained. Historically speaking, you weren’t one for running for your life.

This hunt was pretty easy. A ghost had been terrorizing the residents of town under a local bridge, resulting in car crashes and a few pedestrians being struck. Once you had narrowed down the grave of the man, you sent Sam and Dean to burn his bones. In their absence you found yourself looking for the song from the radio.

There it was. A YouTube video displayed the cover art for the album as the upbeat song played. You wandered about the room, readying yourself for the night while mumbling the lyrics. The song played then moved on to one Taylor Swift song after the next for the next 35 minutes until the door to the motel room clicked open. You looked up from your notebook to see the boys walk in. Sam offered you a smile before going to the bathroom, assumingly having won the rights to the first shower. Dean raised an eyebrow at your laptop as he sat in a chair across from you.

“This the same chick from the other day?” He asked, which earned him a playful pout from you.

“Taylor Swift.” You corrected as you placed your notebook and pen inside your bag.

“My favorite singer.” You stood and took the few steps to reach him before sitting on his lap, your arms around his neck and his hands holding you securely. You placed a kiss on his cheek and grimaced at the smell.

“You stink.” You stated but made no move to get away from him. Your words were met with a pout from him, similar to the one he had received from you.

“I thought Bob Dylan was your favorite singer?” Dean asked. You shook your head and leaned into him.

“Nope. Taylor Swift.” You felt him breathe a laugh out. He continued to hold you until Sam was done with his shower, even if his leg had fallen asleep in that time.

----

“Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?”

The voice trailed out from your phone as you and Dean cuddled in bed. You had figured out how to download the song onto your device and it just so happened the first song you had heard from the blonde girl was your favorite. The lyrics reminded you of your relationship with Dean. It was the morning now and Sam had run out for breakfast. You and Dean had taken the time alone by sleepily making out and listening to music. Your music had been the winner since you were the only one with it downloaded onto your phone and your laptop was across the room.

You could tell, despite his objections to the fact, Dean was starting to enjoy some of the songs. Sure, it was because you enjoyed them, but you could have sworn that he hummed along to some of them.

You grabbed the front of his shirt in a fist as you two kissed. He held his hands on your hips to pull you into him. Your heart was beating quickly and you rolled your body up against his. There wasn’t enough time for what the both of you truly wanted to do, but that didn’t mean you could just turn it off. His response to your movements was to groan and kiss you harder. His hands trailed to your bottom and he pulled you up into him.

“Dean,” You breathed out. The music had been drowned out by the sounds of you and your lover. It was magical. His hands, his lips, all of him. Pleasure erupted where his hands touched you. It had been far too long since you had gotten to be close to him like this.

“I know, baby, I know,” Dean’s words came out in pants in between kisses. His hands were tight on you, fingers digging into your hips. You moaned into his mouth when you brushed up onto him in just the right way.

Fuck it.

That was Dean’s last thought before deciding he would be quick. He could get you off in the time it would take Sam to make it back to the room. His younger brother would have the sense to knock before coming in anyways, right? That didn’t matter in the moment as Dean disappeared under the blankets. The only thing racing around either of your heads was the need for touch. You felt him tug your shorts down, pulling your underwear with them. No time for the usual foreplay, Dean dove right into you.

His tongue dragged along your core. He groaned when he tasted you, just as sweet as he remembered. He used his tongue to lap at your entrance, causing you to curse under your breath. His nose nudged at your clit while he moved, creating an immense amount of pleasure to build up inside you. You moaned and bucked your hips up, trying to get impossibly closer to him. Dean’s response to this was to hold your hips down, his pace never slowing. The pressure from his fingers had pleasure, not pain, rippling through your body. There were sure to be bruises in the coming hours, but that was the collateral for what Dean did to your body.

God, his mouth felt heavenly. You pressed your shoulders into the pillows, needing to move. You were whimpering his name out in between moans. The sound of his name coming from your pretty little mouth only encouraged his actions. He moved his mouth like a man starved, and there were no complaints from you.

Your hands balled into fists, gripping the sheets tight enough Dean thought you were going to rip them, but he didn’t stop. That would be a problem for later Dean. Present Dean needed to feel his girl come apart under his hands. He continued to work at you, knowing when you were getting close when your breaths became shorter and quicker. The coil of an orgasm built up in your lower abdomen. You were right on the edge, ready to fall into the ocean of post-sex bliss, and the tipping point was Dean groaning into you at the feel of you fighting his hold on you. The noise reverberated through your body, making your skin goosebump at the pure desire of it.

You were trying to catch your breath while basking in the high of what Dean had done to you when the door opened. Sam, it seemed, had not known he would need to knock before entering. It was the shared room after all. He carried in a large bag full of fragrant food and a tray of coffees. Confusion bloomed across his face when he hadn’t seen his brother next to you, the emotion only increasing at the sight of the obviously empty bathroom. He turned his eyes to you, apparently not noticing the red of your cheeks.

“Where…?” Sam had begun his question, but let the rest of the sentence trail off when Dean emerged from under the blanket. His cheeks were the same red as your own, though he tried to hide this with a flash of a wide smirk. He had pulled your shorts back onto you before making his entrance, ensuring you wouldn’t accidentally flash his brother.

“Oh, gross!” Sam exclaimed and piled the food onto the table. It wasn’t as if it had been the first time he had walked in on his older brother, but it never ceased to make it less weird for him. You and Dean let out twin chuckles before joining Sam at the table for breakfast.

----

You were back in the Impala. The windows were down and the warm air of summer streamed in the windows. You let your right hand wave up and down in the wind, holding Dean’s hand in your left. His elbow rested on his own open window as he drove wordlessly, letting the music fill the car. Even Sam was quiet as he let the air that rushed into the vehicle to swish his hair around. The song - your song, as Dean liked to call it - was filling the space around your little trio. The cassette player in the car had been fixed, (turns out Dean did know what he was doing, which he boasted about for a good five minutes), but you had been checking the country radio station in between songs in the hopes that they would play the song. After a few tries, there it was, and you had been lucky enough to catch it at the beginning.

“But we got bills to pay, we got nothing figured out,” you sang along with the radio. You looked over to Dean.

“When it was hard to take, yes, yes, this is what I thought about,” Dean was, albeit very discreetly, singing along as well. A smile broke out across your face, one that caught Sam’s attention.

“Are you singing Taylor Swift, Dean?” Sam asked incredulously, a teasing tone in his voice. Dean glanced at the two of you, rolling his eyes when he saw the looks of astonishment on them. He knew there was no denying it.

“Yes, now shut up, the bridge is coming.” Dean shot back. Sure enough, the post-chorus just before the bridge was playing.

“And I remember that fight, 2:30 AM, as everything was slipping right out of hands,”

Sam had joined in on the sing-along, having the song practically memorized from the amount of times you played it. You giggled through your singing at the sound of the two men in the car with you. You all must have sounded ridiculous, three voices, four including the radio, blasted from the open windows. It didn’t matter though, you were all happy. You were all family, even if it wasn’t through blood when it came to you. You loved these boys and knew you would never want to live a day with either one of them out of your life. Dean, your true love, your soulmate, if that was even possible. Sam, your brother, your friend.

Dean pulled the back of your hand to his lips before the last line. You locked eyes with him and the rest of the world blurred away. A smile pulled the corners of your lips up. You and Dean sang the last line to each other, and though it was just a song, you both knew the lyrics to be true.

“You are the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

[djarins-cyare]

(Angsty) WIP Weekend

Thank you to the following lovelies for tagging me in various WIP posts over the past month (you are all wonderful 💚):

@ace-turned-confused @almostfoxglove @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@secretelephanttattoo @the-blind-assassin-12 @the-mandawhor1an

Once again, I’m humbly offering up a snippet because I’m still eyeball-deep in the writing stage of my (now several months late) Secret Relationship fic for the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge. It now stands at just over 57k words, but I swear I only have two more chapters to write. Happily, I have a whole 3 weeks off work over the holidays, so I’m aiming to release it next month.

I won’t bore you with why I had to expand it again, but let’s just say angst fans will be well-fed.

In fact, since my previous WIP offerings from this fic (see here, here, and here) have mostly been smut-adjacent, I’ve decided to give you a taste of the angst for a change…

(Sorry it’s shorter than my usual snippets; it’s tough to find a decent chunk I can share without spoiling anything)

You fight for a week. Each day, he comes over, imploring you to calm down, eat something, see his point of view. He tries every tactic – soft words, hard orders, pleading eyes – but every attempt only feels like salt in a wound that will never close. Each day, you hurl back insults, curses, and even whatever objects are within reach. A glass shatters against the wall near his head. A boot catches him in the gut. You hope each impact carries a fraction of the pain he’s inflicted on you. You scream a lot. You scream until your throat is raw and you taste blood. Sometimes, your screams are molten with fury, blistering the air. Other times, they collapse into broken, keening wails, your voice trembling with the weight of all the misery you can’t contain. You cry a lot. You cry until there’s nothing left – until the tears burn instead of soothe. The memories torture you whenever your eyes close, echoes of your dreams being torn apart in a single evening. With every tear you try to blink away, your losses replay on the back of your eyelids with excruciating clarity. Your body can’t handle the strain. Your hands tremble constantly, whether from exhaustion or rage, you no longer know. Your chest feels tight; every breath is an effort. Sleep offers no relief; it’s a battlefield of nightmares that leave you thrashing and gasping awake. Yet you don’t stop fighting. You can’t stop. It’s the only shield against the endless void threatening to swallow you whole. With your past in shadow and your future in tatters, you’re fighting for nothing, but this empty act is all you have left now.

The high level of angst will be balanced by an equally high level of smut, don’t worry 😏. But the good stuff needs to be earned.

As usual, if you’d like me to tag you when I release the chapters, please raise your hand or communicate your wish however you see fit. You can also join my tag list if you like.

Apparently, Tumblr is now limiting the number of links per post, which includes tags 😡. Since my WIP posts aren’t particularly frequent, I always try to tag as many people as possible, so I guess I’ll just put them in a reblog…

[wisheslost]

The white-eye warbles, the camellia blooms.

As a writer of Yae Publishing House, you have to visit the shrine for work purposes quite often— and it is on these shrine visits that you came to be even more acquainted with the yashiro commissioner, of whom you were previously known to only as that writer he had bumped into at the Irodori festival, in his sister's words; the most cliché way possible.

cw : mutual pining, friends/strangers to lovers, fluff, reader gets screamed at but its fine its not by ayato, no use of y/n, reader is technically an oc but is never referred to with a name. pls lmk if I should add more!

a/n : ive been meaning to post this but i kept stalling😭 sorry

wc : 5.4k

Kamisato Ayato is a smart man. The revered head of the Kamisato clan knows all there is to know about what's going on amidst the different commissions in Inazuma, but not a single clue does he have about the feelings you harbour for him, and who knows when he will?

You seldom had the opportunity to go to the shrine, and so, everytime you came down from the shrine, everytime you hurriedly made your way through Chinju forest, you did with the same intention in mind— to see Ayato. It didn't matter if he didn't notice you, just a glimpse of his face made your day better.

One of these very days, Ayato saw you pass, and much to your surprise, invited you in to have tea. In an attempt to be polite, and since you were done with work at the time, you accepted his sweet offer.

And so it continued — each time someone of the estate saw you passing by, they'd invite you in and offer you tea, while you tried your best to decline most of the time, sometimes it was just… not doable. Convincing Thoma was a hard job, but to persuade Miss Furuta to let you go was even more difficult. 

Now, Ayato wasn't always there, sometimes he was out for a meeting or was doing work in his chamber ( the same chamber you found yourself too unimportant to enter, the chamber that felt almost suffocating to you the one time you went in there. ) but even when he was, if he heard of you having came, he'd offer you to tea with the condition that you had to wait till his work was done. You loved his company, so who were you to deny it?

And perhaps that love you had for the time you spent with him turned into the love you had for him. 

You two weren't strangers. No, not at all. You bumped into each other during last year's Irodori festival, and in the most clichesque way ever, all your documents had fallen down, and being the gentleman he was, Ayato helped you pick them up ( obviously !).

Ayato found himself writing you a letter ever so often, and your reply to it that laid there among his official documents was the last to be opened of the day—but not the least, no, it was a way for him to conclude his day positively, or so he had told you. And as you two grew closer, you only found it easier to share your work with him, snippets of something you wrote that you were somewhat proud of , but that didn't make it into the published version of the story, a verse from a poem you gave up on writing, anything you thought he would like— you sent him, and eagerly waited for his reply. 

You'd read him some of your poetry time to time— each time you came by his castle of a house, and each time he simply stared at you until you finished, and would then ask you why you used a certain metaphor to describe a certain thing, to which you'd happily answer, or commend you for having thought of something in such a different way, and at the end, he'd pass a rather funny comment, even if unintentionally, such as one like "I want this framed on my wall." to which you could do nothing but laugh, while he simply gazed at the beauty the sky harboured, seemingly deep in thought. Why he always did that, you did not know, and you could only wonder, what exactly did he think of each time?

Is showing your unpublished work to someone outside the Yae Publishing House breach of contract? No... Well, not exactly. You had agreed to abstaining from showing anyone anything that has to do with your unpublished literary pieces, but you knew the publishing house wasn't ever going to publish the poems you wrote on your own. They would say things like the topic's too vague, the metaphors don't make sense, and that the writing didn't flow, whatever that meant. So, what you wrote for the publishing house was what they demanded from you— quite different than what you actually wrote. Alas, they don’t understand your words when they're not catered to them. But it's fine, Ayato did, and what more could you ask for? 

Actually, if given the chance, you would definitely ask for something more.

Kamisato Ayato understood social cues quite well, or atleast one would think he would, as that was a big part of his duty. So why he couldn't comprehend your feelings for him, was a mystery to you. But I guess understanding if someone likes you or not isn't really something listed in the skillset a Yashiro commissioner requires. 

Now, what he could and couldn't understand was not your problem, and would no longer be, not after you confess your feelings to him. You figured it would be easier to do if you just played it out like one of your usual interactions, and so you wrote a poem. A poem you'd innocently read out to him one of those days you happen to stumble upon his house, and with it, he'd finally understand. Finally understand you liked him. 

Something else popped up. A question much unappreciated. The worst outcome possible. “But what if he didn't like you back?” Well the poem isn't even for him then! It's from the point of view of one of my original characters— yes, that excuse is good enough.

But then the day finally arrived, you were finally there, sitting in Kamisato Estate's courtyard eagerly waiting for Ayato to be done with his meeting that had started just as you came, it was not often Ayato had meetings in his chamber, so it seems you just happened to have bad luck today. Sitting on the cushion, waiting for Ayato to be done, you found yourself making multiple revisions to that poem of yours, and in the middle of that, you were suddenly reminded of the meeting at Yae Publishing House you had this evening, but the thought soon slipped your mind as you thought of another line for the poem.

He had promised it would not take too long, but one hour had gone by just like that, and before you knew it, you were barely keeping awake, you couldn't help it, running on 2 hours of sleep from having worked all night, your mind was starting to shut down. Resting your head on the table was probably the first mistake you made that day— but one could argue there were plenty other mistakes made before that, such as not having slept in the first place. 

You usually came to meet Ayato around the evening, not only because his workload was lighter that time of the day but also because the publishing house's important meetings and discussions of the sort were held most often, if not all the time, early in the day. And that was precisely why you had forgotten about that meeting you had this evening. Was it the two hours of sleep or the anxiety from the whole confession thing? whatever it was, it was just making your day harder and harder.

It had been an hour and a half since you arrived at Kamisato Estate, the hour spent waiting and scribbling, and the half spent peacefully sleeping as no one bothered to wake you up. It wasn't that the staff of the estate couldn't care less about you, in fact, everyone around noticed you having succumbed to slumber. But who dare to awaken you, Clan Head's possible significant other?

It's true that Ayato was unbeknownst to your feelings towards him, but those at Kamisato Estate weren't. It was easy to tell you had a thing for him, much too obvious that every time you saw him in the eye your heart skipped a beat, and practically every one of the estate's staff thought you two were together, and just trying to hide it. To them, the way you looked at Ayato, was the way he looked at you. His, a loving gaze that never lets go of your frame, and a soul that so desperately wants to tell the whole world how much he loves you(— but hell, he couldn't even fathom telling you) and Yours, a stare that quickly tries to focus on something else when noticed by him, a heart too heavy with emotions— emotions that cannot find their way through speech, and are expressed only through words. 

And that serene and loving gaze was the first thing you saw being woken up, because in that whole house, no one except Clan Head himself would have the courage to wake you up. 

It's not until Ayato's voice echoes in your ears accompanied by the faint pitter-patter of the rain that you realise your noses are barely inches away from touching as he knelt down to your level.

“Oh, my writer, it seems you've slept most wonderfully in my absence, and on Thoma's jacket, huh?” his tone had a bit of sneer in it, as if he was jealous of the fact you had used Thoma's jacket as a pillow. And there was that— “my writer”, it stemmed from an inside joke, wherein once when he was transcribing a poem you wrote, you called him ‘my personal calligrapher’ which warranted the “That would make you my writer, hm?” and you knew it was a joke but goodness, he called you that only when people weren't around, and the way he said it everytime, Oh Archons!

But wait— You weren't supposed to be swooning over Ayato right now! You should be at the publishing house, attending that meeting— and so you rose up frantically to leave, apologies leaving your mouth rapidly,

“Lord Commissioner, I'm so sorry but I must go, I had an important work thing and I- I'm sorry! I should hav-'' and that is when you get cut off by Ayato's forefinger upon your lips, if that was an attempt to shush you- it worked. “Just go. I understand.” he said, and the reassurance in his voice and the slight smile on his face brought you right back to your senses.

And so you hurriedly put on your shoes to make a run for it, uttering one final ‘sorry’ to him, much to his dismay. And as you made it out the door of the estate, you heard Ayato's voice calling to you- “Take an umbrella!” to which you could only respond— “I'll be fine! The rain's not that bad!” because right now, saving face at the publishing house was far more important than a few drops on your clothes. 

Except it wasn't a few drops, you had greatly underestimated the power of the Hydro Archon, because by the time you reached the doors of the publishing house, you were completely wet from head to toe— and saving face was no longer present in your dictionary. In fact, you never even wanted to show your face again- and god, how many and who even were the people attending that meeting? because you were going to embarrass yourself in front of all of them right now.

The second you entered that room where the meeting was going on, as if your bad luck wasn't bad enough, you saw a figure too striking, bright pink hair.. fox ears.. and those eyes, those eyes that didn't take even a full two seconds to notice your presence and announce it to the whole room.

“Oh, look who's here! did the Yashiro Commission- er, reject you, my dear? or did you finally realise where your priorities should lie?” and right after she had said that, you could feel that theories about you and the commissioner had already began floating in the air of that room— whispers of a mixture of words like yashiro commissioner, head of the kamisato clan could be heard, and among them was that name a bit too familiar- Kamisato Ayato. How she knew about your yashiro commission shenanigans, you had no idea, but you weren't about to question her— Guuji Yae was no god, but people were convinced she definitely was omniscient, the way she never lacked information about the people she worked with. 

You could swear on your life that the stutter after the words ‘yashiro commission’ was done on purpose, and you'd live. What she was trying to imply wasn't too obvious, in fact, the way she said it, it could easily be interpreted as something entirely different— but what was also true, only it wasn't something you were comfortable with everyone in that room knowing. You couldn't manage to respond to that, ‘tleast not in a way that would allow you to keep your job. And so Guuji Yae's lips spoke again, this time out of pity for you. 

“But hey, better late than never.” she said, gesturing for you to come sit next to her. 

And so the meeting went on like normal. You were trembling terribly from the cold, dripping wet still but there wasn't anything you could do about it, and as the guy sitting next to you took notice of that and offered you his jacket, you could feel watchful eyes throughout the room landing upon you two, waiting for your response. With the amount of writers present in this room, you knew this interaction was making its way into a light novel soon. Thinking of a response was hard, accepting it would give birth to more conspiracies, but not accepting it would blatantly prove Guuji Yae's previous comment about the yashiro commissioner right. And before you could think of a response to that awfully nice gesture, you were snapped out of your thoughts by your editor, who was currently explaining something on a whiteboard, something you failed to understand because of the preoccupations your mind currently had. “(Name), are you even paying attention !?” were his words, and as if enough people weren't already staring at you, now the whole room was. A nervously spoken ‘sorry’ was all you could let out, and it wasn't even a proper answer to his question. 

The meeting dragged on for another 15 minutes— 15 dreadful, cold minutes. And when it was finally over and people were getting out of their seats and as if your luck wasn't already the worst, it only got worse-r as your editor called out to you right as you got up, “Not you. I still have to talk to you.”  Did he not see you shivering? Looking like a sopping wet cat? Did he not have an ounce of sympathy? 

As everyone else exited the room, you were forced to sit until who knows when. Guuji Yae was the last to leave, and before she stepped out the room, she called the editor over to speak to him, uttering something along the lines of what you thought was “Go easy on the poor thing, ok?” and was that poor thing in question you? most likely, yes. And good for that— he shouldn't think to disobey the owner of this whole establishment right? 

But he did. Or atleast, the words that followed after she left did not seem like him ‘going easy on you’ at all. 

The way he had his arms on the desk, the way his figure loomed over yours, that expression on his face… oh, you were about to be scolded big time.

“You, tell me. What exactly is your problem?” 

“I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I apologise.” You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you spoke, and while your attempt at an apology was well delivered, it was terribly timed. 

“If you were so fucking sorry as you claim to be, tell me, what the hell has been bothering you so damn much to arrive late to an important meeting when i had reminded you so many times the previous day!?” 

Oh. That was a first— never before had you heard him swear like this, and you're pretty sure it probably falls under top 10 things you shouldn't do if you don't want to lose your job, but who were you to say? your job was being held together by a single thread made of miracles. 

“I'm really sorry sir, it was just something personal- I can guarantee you, it won't ever happen again.” Ah yes, the infamous personal issue: the inability to manage a schedule.

“Did someone pass away?”

“..No.”

“Someone fall gravely ill?”

“..No”

“Family issues?”

“No-”

“Then WHAT the hell’s been bothering so much you show up late to a meeting with GUUJI YAE? Do you seriously not understand how fucking embarrassing it is? For the writer I had to practically beg for the higher-ups to not fire even though you kept being late and crossing deadlines, to show up late again?” He had yanked you out of your seat with his right hand midway through his speech out of the anger he possessed as of current, becoming physical when angry wasn't uncommon, but for someone who you always saw as calm and cool, for someone who always put up with you no matter what, the breaking point had arrived, and it was wholly your fault. 

But you understood. Understood the reasons behind his furious reaction, for he was right, it was truly embarrassing, because that thread made out of miracles that was holding your job in place wasn't made out of miracles at all— it was made out of your editor's continued efforts to keep you in this organisation. 

When you didn't, well, more like couldn't respond to him, and he realised the outburst he had just made, he let go of your upper arm, and his hand went back to the desk with his other arm, and as he regained his senses, looking down at the desk realising what he just did, he tried to apologise-

“I didn't mean to-”

“I-it's fine. You don't have to say anything.” Cutting him off was usually not something you would do, but at this moment, it felt right.

“I'm sorry, Please leave. And please, please don't tell anyone about this.” You could see the regret in his face as he sat down on his chair, head in hands refusing to make eye contact with you and instead choosing to stare at the hardwood floor instead, and you knew if anyone found out about this you both would be kicked out the publishing house together.

“I won't. Good night, sir.” and as you exited that room, you could hear a faint “good night” from your editor, who was too ashamed to even speak any louder. 

And as you left, you failed to notice the bright pink figure of the Guuji beside the entrance of the conference room, who had eavesdropped on that entire conversation.

________

It had been 11 days since then. 11 days of Ayato wondering whatever it was that you wanted to tell him that day, hoping you would at least write him a letter. But no letter came, and neither did you. 

While the Kamisato's days went by quite peacefully and ordinarily, yours were much, much different. 

Back at Yae Publishing House that day, the Guuji held your editor back to tell him to get you to write some sort of romance novel around this plot– A careless writer who has amazing skill in writing, but barely manages to keep her job due to the troubles caused by her family, and her editor who has to beg the higher-ups to let her keep her job, who's also hopelessly in love with her.

While the plot is good, you weren't too happy having it recommended to you in that way. Does the Guuji think you have romantic feelings for your editor? or is it vice versa ? 

Whatever it is that the Guuji thought, it didn't matter right now, because she demanded the first volume of the comic book that was about to be serialised be done in 15 days. With 11 days already gone by, and everything done on your part, you finally had some leisure time to enjoy, leisure time you were spending laying on the floor in front of the fan sipping cold lavender melon juice peacefully, almost on your way to dreamland.

That is, until you heard a knock on your door. When you went to open it, no one was there, or so you had thought, not having noticed the little kid dressed like a mujina at your doorstep at first, looking sleepy as ever.

“Oh, hello! What is it that brings you here to my doorstep, little one ?” as you bent down to greet the sleepy child, you felt a muscle in your back ache. Ah, the consequences of having the worst sleeping posture known to man.

“I'm not ‘little one’. My name is Sayu. I'm from the shuumatsuban, and Mr. Yashiro Commissioner sent me to relay an important message to you.” as she finishes her sentence, she hands you a little paper from her back pocket that says “I have something important to speak to you about. Come meet me.  -your personal calligrapher” 

 Oh. You're done.

What could it possibly be about !? What could Kamisato Ayato, Clan head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner have to talk about that would be important to you !? Whatever it was, it was scaring you. 

“Do I have to go right now?” as nervous as you were, you were also curious, what the hell was this man upto? and actually, was he even upto something, or was this just something to get you to come to the estate as quickly as possible?

“Yes, that's what he said anyway.” as she said this, Sayu sounded so, so done with you and Ayato that you couldn't really do anything. It seemed like if you didn't go right now, as soon as possible, Sayu would fall asleep right on your doorstep. 

“Alright, then, let us leave. But wait- just one thing-” and so, you went to your bedside table to pick up that diary you always took to Kamisato Estate, the one you wrote that damnee confession in- but, it wasn't there? surely you placed it somewhere else when under the influence of fatigue and forgot.. Well, with Sayu's patience running thinner- you should probably just leave finding that diary to your future self.

Sayu was not at all interested in whatever it was that went on between you and Ayato, she kept quiet the whole way from your house to the Kamisato Estate, except for a yawn or two in the middle.  

Your attempt at distracting yourself from whatever it was that Ayato wanted to talk to you about by looking at the flowers and the trees as you made your way to the estate was not quite successful.. for as the dew drops fell off from the roses, you could feel yourself perspire as well.

When you finally stepped foot in Kamisato Estate, you saw him, Kamisato Ayato, simply leaning on his balcony ledge gazing at the horizon, unaware of your resence and all he made you feel. You were quite sure this amount of sweating could submerge Jinren Island. 

Jinren Island being submerged aside, no one was there at the estate except Ayato. Miss Furuta wasn't standing at her usual place, Koharu wasn't busy cleaning something that doesn't even look like it needs cleaning, and even Mr. Madarame was nowhere to be seen.

As you were busy analyzing the current state of the ground you were standing on, Sayu's voice spoke—

“Mr. Yashiro Commissioner, I brought them.” 

Ayato turned around, his eyes finally meeting yours after what seemed to be an eternity to him. 

“Oh, thank you Sayu. You may go now.”

As the man came to sit down, he signaled you to sit near him as well, contrary to how you would usually sit, on the opposite side of the table. “Sit here, you sure look like you need to.” his voice beamed, and you could feel your heart burst into eight thousand pieces upon hearing him talk to you again. 

While you were most delighted to finally talk to him again, you couldn't help but wonder where the staff went, therefore naturally, you asked him as he poured his tea from the kettle into his little cup,

“So… where's all the staff gone?” 

“Disappointed no one's here to give you free snacks, huh? Don't worry, I'm quite generous when it comes to my food, Here, want a sip?” and as his sentence came to an end, he offered you a cup of tea by raising it to your lips, which you pushed away as politely as you could. “You know I don’t drink tea, right? You asking me multiple times isn't going to change that..”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“But seriously, where are all the staff? in all my days spent procrastinating here, I've never seen it so empty..” 

“I told them to take a break as I was going to have an important person over to discuss some very important, urgent matters, and for that discussion, I need some privacy.”

“But then why not have the meeting in your chamber? Enough privacy there, no?”

“Of course, of course, but you see, this client of mine, they think my chamber is really stuffy and feels suffocating. So naturally, I decided to have said meeting here.”

“Oh, so uhm, when is this meeting of yours? considering the staff are already gone..It must be soon, yes?”

“Oh yes, yes.. Infact, for the staff, the meeting has already started.”

“Wait.. Am I..?”

“Go on, you're almost there.”

“Jackass, I'm the ‘super important’ person you were meeting, huh?”

“See, this is exactly why this meeting is being held. The way you address me, the way you talk to me.. it's not exactly the usual way I'm addressed.. Not even my friends behave this way with me.”

“You have friends?”

“Of course I- See ! that's my point, you talk so nonchalantly to me, what do you think people would think of you as when they see you acting like this in public ?”

“Disrespectful? Discourteous? Rude? Impolite? Ill-mannered?”

“My beautiful Oxford dictionary, that's not what I meant. Don't you think people would look at us joking around and think of us as lovers ?” 

As soon as you heard that “beautiful”, oh goodness, you were done for. you had fallen so deep in love with this man it was beyond any find and rescue team to help you. you couldn't make an answer to that statement, no, you were busy in dreamland wondering if all these people at the estate saw you and Ayato talk to each other and thought, “oh, these two definitely have something going on.” 

Snap. one snap of his fingers in front of your face, and you were thrown right back into reality. 

“So?”

“Uhm, we don't go out much, actually, we've never gone out together, so that's not a problem as far as I'm concerned.”

“The way you say it.. it's almost like you're mad we never go out.”

“Well, we don't. I've never even stepped foot on the east side of the estate.. let alone go anywhere with you.”

“Hm? Let's go there then.” near the end of his sentence, he placed his teacup down and got up, walking to the same place he was standing before you came here, and so you followed. 

As he leaned on the ledge of the balcony, his body facing the horizon, he looked at you, hands crossed, yours facing him. 

“So? What do you think, are we qualified to go out now?” he spoke, turning towards you, and as he turned, he looked up at something and then smirked, his eyes returning to you. Goodness, he looked so hot— but wait, what was he staring at? before you could fully turn your head to face behind you, his left arm quickly got hold of the side of your neck that you were about to turn, “Why are you-”

“Answer my question first.” throughout this exchange, his hand was still there on your neck holding it from turning around.

“Yes, we can go out together, but what the hell is behind me that you don't want me to see?”

Leaning in towards your ear, he spoke. And to say his lips were one breath away from touching your temple is an understatement. “You remember the thing i told you about the staff, right? Well, they've all gathered near the first window of the second floor, and are currently looking at us, waiting for something to happen.” while he said all this, he was staring daggers into Thoma's soul, who, being the one who accidentally spread the rumour that Ayato was going to confess his feelings for you today, was awkwardly smiling at the slightly pissed off clan head, whose confession of love was about to turn into a source of entertainment for his staff, and of course, something to tease him about later for his sister, also present with the staff. Finishing his sentence, he finally pulled away from you. 

“But.. waiting for what to happen..?” trying to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down from what just happened, you focused back on the conversation. 

“Waiting for me to confess.”

 Stop the clock. He didn't mean confess his love, did he? Surely there's no way.

“C-confess what!?” 

“That- ah, I can't believe I'm saying this in such an ordinary way, but listen, I'm not a man of poetry, or atleast, writing it. I tried to, believe me, but it just looked so awkward to me, nothing compared to what you wrote for me in your diary-”

“YOU READ THAT POEM?”

Ayato put his hands on your shoulders, and in an attempt to calm you down, spoke forth. 

“Hey now! Let's calm down, alright? I didn't read anything beyond the 9th line because Ayaka snatched it away from me, so please, don’t be mad. I should have realised I was in no place to open someone else's very personal diary, and I don't even know if that poem was meant for me, but I just-”

“No.. Ayato, you're.. You're too sweet. I'm sure you had no ill intentions, I only freaked out because it was so surprising, and since it was indeed meant for you. And you can read the whole poem afterwards, but for now, please, please go on about what you were telling me.”

“I can't just go on like this, not after you've told me you wrote about me- Me, of all people! Me, after you've written about the sun, the seas, the sky, the surreal- after all that, you wrote about me. And so beautifully, too, I can't go on, not with my life, not with whatever it was I originally wanted to say.” his expression was one you had never seen before, so full of innocence, he looked like a wet puppy in the rain, like he'd die of a cold if you didn't shelter him right away, and you could swear you saw tears welling up in his eyes, and all this because you wrote about him, all this because his feelings were returned, all this because he finally felt loved. 

You couldn't even respond, hell, you couldn't even choke back tears, and so as you were processing his words, you wrapped your arms around his torso and went in to hug him, sobbing into his chest. He returned the hug, one arm around your shoulders, and one running over your head, a tear dropping on your head as he did.

When you both pulled away from the hug, it was just laughter and wiping away each others’ tears, until you both were staring at each other fondly. And then Ayaka's voice could be heard from the back— “I told you they wouldn't kiss!” followed by a subdued Thoma, “my mora..”

“You know we can hear, right? And betting on my love life? Seriously?” As Ayato turned to reply to his sister, the staff scurried away, not wanting to be noticed by him, and as amused as you were, you didn't join in on the conversation, instead choosing to pull Ayato's collar towards yourself and pulling his lips onto yours. Before Ayaka could respond, Ayato leaned in to the kiss, cupping your face with his hands, and you could feel him smirk a bit.

He chuckled while pulling away from you, turning to a very surprised Ayaka and Thoma, mouths open in bewilderment,

“So... I guess Thoma wins?”

[daffi-990]

✨ Inspiration Saturday ✨

So instead of working on the WIPs I already have, my brain decided to think up a new one 😅

Current working title is LA Lonely and here is a mood board and a rough little summary:

Buck meets Eddie and they hook up. Buck feels an instant connection but doesn’t pursue it because he’s only good for one night, no one wants him for keeps. Cue him running into Eddie almost everywhere he goes, like the universe keeps putting Eddie in his path. And Eddie is kind and never makes their interactions feel awkward and the way he smiles at Buck has something warm fluttering to life inside him. Eddie eventually asks him out on a proper date and Buck is so confused because no one wants him for more than a fun time. They don’t want to keep him.

(snippet under the cut)

“Buck!”

Buck turns towards the voice calling his name to find none other than Christopher from the class field trip at the station last week walking towards him, red crutches click clacking against the floor.

“Hey Chris! What brings you here? Another school field trip?”

Chris scrunches his face up, looking at Buck like he’s grown a second head.

“It’s Saturday.”

“Right. I knew that, I was just checking to see if you did.” Buck says as he points his finger at Chris causing the boy to giggle.

Buck scoots over on the bench making room for Chris to sit down beside him.

“Are your mum or dad with you?” Buck asks as he scans the room behind them for a frantic parent.

“My mum’s dead.”

Oh. Well. Buck has no idea what to do with that.

“Uh, I’m sorry buddy, that’s uh- that’s rough.” He looks around the room again. “What about your Da-“

“Christopher!”

Buck’s head whips around to find a man striding towards them. As he draws closer, Buck's eyes widen in recognition and disbelief because shit, Buck knows him - has seen him naked, felt his body pressed against his own as the guy shoved his cock so deep inside Buck he swore he could feel it in his throat. The memory of their encounter is still fresh in Buck’s mind a week later because it was that good.

“Dad!” Chris says happily, smiling bright and big and holy fuck his hot hookup who gave him one of the best orgasms of his fucking life has a kid.

And is standing right in from on him.

Buck scrambles to his feet, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he smiles nervously at Eddie. “Uh hi.”

Eddie looks shocked to see him but it quickly melts away, his eyes softening. “Buck, hey.” His mouth quirks up in a small smile and Buck remembers exactly why he brought Eddie home last weekend. He’s so fucking pretty

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @shortsighted-owl @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @tizniz @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag ❤️

[in-my-loki-feels]

@silentxsymphony and I's Sharperton agenda continues! Please check out this absolutely amazing piece by @wolfpup026 of Benedict Bridgerton and Sir Thomas Sharpe sharing a sweet moment together. The detail alone is making me crazy, not to mention the softness. 🥺😭💕

Aaaaand to compliment this gorgeous art, there's a little scene below the cut. You can find other snippets featuring these two in my Sharperton tag or on ao3. (Come, join us... 👀)

Benedict sighed. He was not sure why he had indulged this whim to pick up the brush again but it was clearly a foolish idea. The still life taking shape on the canvas was very still indeed, lacking any element that might draw the eye or hold one’s attention. Perhaps packing away his art materials after that disastrous stint at the academy had been the correct impulse, after all. 

“When I saw the door was open, I feared I would find you with your head bent to more boring correspondence,” said a familiar voice behind him. Benedict turned. 

Now there was a sight more full of life than anything he could ever capture on canvas. Thomas Sharpe stood in the doorway, his coat abandoned so that he wore only his shirt, waistcoat and breeches. His presence lifted Benedict’s spirits, at least until he realized Thomas was coming closer to inspect the painting. 

“This is quite good,” Thomas continued, in that lovely rumble that sent gooseflesh spreading across Benedict’s skin. 

“Flattery is unnecessary,” Benedict said dryly, facing the canvas again. He eyed his work and sighed. “You need look no further to see why I was accepted into the academy because of Anthony’s generous donation and not by my own skill.” 

“Or,” Thomas said, raising an eyebrow as he shifted his attention to Benedict, “perhaps the money found them before your letter did. Regardless, I will hear no more disparaging remarks.” 

He reached out to clasp the underside of Benedict’s arm, his thumb brushing beneath where the palette rested. Thomas let the touch linger as he stepped around behind Benedict, then moved his hand to Benedict’s waist. 

“It is a good start, now you need only finish it,” Thomas murmured, his lips brushing Benedict’s ear. It was the smallest touch, but it sent fire racing through Benedict’s body. Thomas often had that effect on him. It was solely for that reason that Benedict did not immediately understand what the other man was suggesting. 

“What, like this?” he asked with a laugh. Thomas had wrapped both arms around him and the heat of his body warmed Benedict’s back. His lips curved into a smile against the nape of Benedict’s neck.

“I do not see the difficulty.” A soft kiss followed the words. 

Benedict shivered and tried, in vain, to rally his thoughts again. “It is simply that I can think of other ways to more happily pass the time.” 

As close as they were, Benedict could feel the rumble of Thomas’ chuckle in his own chest. 

“As could I, my darling, but first, I would like to see you complete this painting. You have only ever been supportive of my own creations.” 

That was because the toys and gadgets Thomas put together were so clever. Thomas’ hold on him tightened, as if he guessed Benedict’s thoughts and was silently warning him not to give voice to them. 

Shaking his head, even as a smile tugged at his lips, Benedict attempted to return his attention to the canvas. It was no small feat given Thomas did not relinquish his spot, occasionally dropping a kiss to Benedict’s neck or murmuring compliments on his technique. 

“You, sir, are a menace,” Benedict said, as Thomas’ fingers ran back and forth along his waistband. “Did you not say you wanted me to finish this?” It was growing ever more difficult to concentrate with the stirring in his breeches brought on by Thomas’ touch. 

“I’m sure you have it in you to continue,” Thomas said, with absolutely no irony. 

Benedict snorted out a laugh. Not since Tilley had he met someone so delightfully playful. It was a word many would not think applied to Sir Thomas Sharpe, who maintained an appearance of quiet charm at most societal functions. A man with eyes so clear and blue and yet at times darkened by shadows. It gladdened Benedict’s heart to see Thomas showing more of this side of himself, even if only in private. 

Benedict moved his brush to the palette then paused. His growing arousal was momentarily forgotten as he looked between the painting and the bowl of fruit arranged on the nearby table. 

“I do believe I am finished.”  

He realized now that Thomas’ presence had distracted him from the doubts that so often plagued him when he stood at the easel. The finished work was by no means a masterpiece, but neither was it the disaster Benedict had seen it as before Thomas entered the room. 

Thomas was conspicuously silent behind him, also admiring the painting. 

“All right,” Benedict said with an overly aggrieved sigh, “it is not terrible.” Thomas’ hold loosened so that Benedict could move to the table and set down his brush and palette. When he turned back, he found Thomas smiling with a mixture of mirth and fondness. 

“Worthy of being skied in the Queen’s gallery, in fact,” Benedict continued, simply to hear Thomas laugh. He so enjoyed the sound and the way Thomas’ eyes crinkled with his smile. Benedict returned to his side with an impish grin as he tilted his chin up to meet the kiss Thomas pressed to his lips. 

“I suppose this means I should solicit your assistance whenever the urge to paint strikes me?” Benedict said. 

“A wise idea, indeed,” Thomas replied, taking hold of Benedict’s hips to pull him closer. He bent down, bringing his lips to Benedict’s ear. “You may even discover I am quite a willing model, should you find yourself in need of more interesting subjects to study.” 

A delighted laugh burst free of Benedict before he was silenced by Thomas’ lips once again. 

* Skied art was hung at the top edge of a wall, typically the worst place for art to appear.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: May 10

2019

Building trust [david/patrick, G, 1,324] by JessX2231

Patrick knew that David’s olive branch wasn’t the final piece of the puzzle. He had so much to explain, so much to share with David that couldn’t be said through a text or a shiny new bracelet. He didn’t want any lingering doubts or secrets. He needed David to trust that. To trust him.

like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass [david/patrick, M, 27,379] by wardo_wedidit

Five weddings David and Patrick don't have, and one they do.

Promise [johnny/moira, T, 2,649] by WrathoftheStag

"Who's the eyebrows buying the drinks?" As Moira waits at the hospital to hear about Johnny's condition, she flashbacks to how she and Johnny met. A meet-cute, an attraction, a promise.

2020

Bulldozed [david/patrick, E, 3,479] by @dazedwriter1

Patrick voices a fantasy of his to David, who happily obliges. Set post season 6.

Fall For Me [david/patrick, G, 778] by @roberttchase

“We kind of had a rule, around the house. No getting ice from the ice machine. It was high up, and I was really short as a kid…” 5 year old Patrick goes face to face with an ice machine, and the machine wins.

my love is written, clear as day [david/patrick, T, 17,147] by @agoodpersonrose

David and Patrick are friends working together in New York. Whenever Patrick has a bad day, his horoscope in the magazine they work for in inexplicably positive. Little does he know David is the one to write these horoscopes. How will he react when he finds out?

Until Now Gives Way to Then [david/patrick, M, 3,556] by swat117

"The idea that the future is unpredictable is undermined every day by the ease with which the past is explained." David and Patrick help re-write each other's pasts while building their future together.

Untouchable [david/patrick, G, 277] by @julywonder

David is gorgeous this morning. He always is, but as the sunlight filters through the cafe’s curtain, he is absolutely breathtaking. He looks composed and aloof and so thoroughly untouchable.

2021

[podfic] be still, my heart by blackandwhiteandrose [david/patrick, M, podfic] by @reginahalliwell

Podfic of blackandwhiteandrose's gorgeous wedding night fic be still, my heart.

[Podfic] show this town how to kiss these stars [stevie/ruth, G, podfic] by @kiwiana-writes

"She's there, going through the motions, and she thinks she's gotten everything she's due in life. But then..." Stevie trails off, thinking, before she says, "This opportunity, I guess. It comes along and she takes it."Ruth asks Stevie out on their first date. It doesn't go entirely smoothly, but that's more than okay. [Podfic of show this town how to kiss these stars by doingthemost]

Happy Mother's Day, Moira Rose [johnny/moira, G, 4,701] by Picajc

Seven snippets of seven Mother's Days in the life of Moira Rose

I can feel you even when I'm alone [david/patrick, M, 20,735] by Constantly_Irksome

They say we're all starring in the movie of our own lives. This is Patrick's movie. A canon retelling of season three from Patrick's point of view.

Nothing Could Be Better Than Love [david/patrick, G, 1,983] by @holmesapothecary

6+1 times Patrick and David dance in their kitchen.

Razzle Dazzle Rosé [gen, G, 254 + podfic] by @januarium @rhetoricalk @schittposting

The story of Moira's pink wig: Razzle Dazzle Rosé.

Squirrels Gone Wild [david/patrick, T, 2,625] by @asoftplacetoland

Patrick becomes deeply invested in a battle to take control back when a tricky squirrel invades their backyard. It's up to David to find a solution to keep the peace between man and rodent and his own carefully crafted outdoor aesthetic in tact.

Strike Anywhere [david/patrick, E, 70,042] by @madlori

Patrick Brewer would always remember the first words ever spoken to him by the man who he would eventually marry, because they were “What the fuck are you doing? Are you an idiot?” The Firefighter-AU enemies-to-secret-husbands fic I didn't know I wanted to write. NOW COMPLETE!

2022

[Podfic] Assumptions Were Made [david/patrick, G, podfic] by @thesleepyskipper

It's finally cold enough to build an ice rink outside the motel. And Patrick's really excited to play hockey... right? (Wrong.) [a podfic of Assumptions Were Made by kindofspecificstore]

[Podfic] Extensions of Disbelief [david/patrick, E, podfic] by youhaveahomeinmyheart

It’s taken some time for Patrick to be able to ask for this scene, and even longer to feel comfortable trying it. David is always so open and reassuring, and he always stresses that a fantasy does not equal endorsement. But this one still felt tricky, so even though they’ve prepared an outline of the scene and drawn parameters, he’s nervous as he looks at himself in the mirror. But he’s also turned on, so he gets moving. Patrick and David explore a roleplay scenario together. Podfic of Extension of Disbelief by rockinhamburger.

[Podfic] Something Bright in All [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @b13-maybethistime

The thing is, historically speaking, Patrick hasn't been the best judge of his own happiness. If Aidan has a few reservations, he thinks that's understandable.

[Podfic] the rush of your skin [david/patrick, E, podfic] by @n0connections

David’s hands are fisted so tight in the bedsheets his knuckles are starting to ache as he summons all his willpower to stop himself arching up into where Patrick’s breath is warm on his chest, making him shiver.

Cookies and Taxes [david/patrick, T, 6,659] by @mostlyinthemorning

Marcy—and her cookies—are David’s favorite customers, but that doesn’t mean that he’s interested in meeting her son. Especially when he turns out to be a rude business major with entirely too much to say about the success of David’s store.

Finding My Way Back to You [david/patrick, M, 8,669] by DavidsRoseGarden

Patrick had been dreading this day, and he knew it was coming. Before today he never really understood how people got so hung up on such dates, and was hoping it would just pass like any other day, but as it quickly approached Patrick knew it was going to hit him like an emotional punch to the heart. Or Patrick and David's relationship doesn't survive "The BBQ" debacle. This fic is set on the one-year anniversary of that date.

How Mercurial is Life [dean/castiel, M, 16,617] by thesebrokenwings

After defeating Chuck and rescuing Cas from the Empty, Dean swears he's done with hunting for good. But when he finds it hard to confront certain past events, he decides one more case might be exactly what he needs to get his mind off things. So how is it he ended up in a wacky little town in Canada, forced to confront everything he's been trying to avoid?

I want to go home [david/patrick, M, 31,297] by @smblmn

At this moment, David doesn't know that exactly a year from now he will bring Patrick back to the same spot they're now in, get down on one knee and ask Patrick to marry him. He doesn’t know that in that year he will live through surprise birthday parties, public and private serenades, a reunion, a beautiful wedding and the purchase of a house that will become the first home David has ever had. He doesn’t know how much you can miss a person you love, how sad he will be each time they have to part, how elated when they see each other again. The immense joy he will feel the first night they spend together when they finally live in the same place. He doesn’t know any of that and he doesn’t care, because if there’s one thing he knows for sure is that Patrick is worth everything. Every minute spent with him will make up for every tear and every bad day. And every insecurity and fear that may creep up along the way, they will fight to overcome it, together. OR: The year that follows David's and Patrick's encounter at Rattlesnake Point.

if i'm not beyond repair [david/patrick, M, 8,346] by @stereopticons

“Patrick Brewer?” the woman on the other end asks when he picks up. “This is he.”' “Hi Mr. Brewer, it’s Stacy from Elmdale Hospital. You’re listed as the emergency contact for a patient who was just brought in?” “Who is it?” Patrick asks, wracking his brain to try to remember who locally would list him as an emergency contact. There’s no one he’s that close to anymore. The only person here he’s ever been an emergency contact for is— “David Rose.” His ex-boyfriend. Right.

On the Outside Looking Through [david/patrick, T, 56,629] by @smblmn

Alexis chooses that moment to wave enthusiastically in their direction –apparently ready for them to meet her new acquaintances– so David sighs and stands up from the bench, taking Stevie’s hand to lift her up too. The whole group turns to look at them then and David can see the moment the accountant –as he is calling him in his head, because ‘very nice ass’ somehow sounds worse– looks at David and their gazes meet. David’s stomach plummets to the ground at the immediate change in his demeanor. The man goes from relaxed and carefree to tense and annoyed? –Is it annoyance what David sees in his face?– in the span of two seconds. He drops the arm he has over the cute redhead’s shoulders and looks at the floor. What the fuck has just happened? A pride & prejudice AU

Say the Words [david/patrick, G, 1,053] by mindswindowsdoors

Patrick offers him a small smile, trying to help bolster David to say the words despite his own nerves starting to get the better of him, but no amount of mental preparation is enough for what he knows is coming. "Go ahead, David." "Are you sure?" He takes one last deep breath, eyes closed, and nods. "Please."

Shhh, baby [david/patrick, E, 2,000] by @a-noble-dragon

"Shhh, baby. Let me take care of you. You've been working so hard for us, and you're all tense. Let me relax you." Or after closing in the Apothecary, David takes care of Patrick.

2023

And Thereby Hangs a Tale [david/patrick, G, 4,145] by DavidRoseIsMySpiritAnimal

The different ways in which our beloved Roses could have become the family they eventually became in the show. Part I: David Rose is a cinephile

Excited [david/patrick, T, 100] by @sspaz1000

David buys Patrick surprise tickets to the baseball game.

Never Let Me Go [david/patrick, M, 200] by @a-noble-dragon

“Is this what you wanted?” Patrick asks, pressing David harder against the wall.

Warmth of Your Doorway [david/patrick, E, 1,225] by @streetlampsunset

The woods say, "hello, David." It's a careless thing, for a witch to give his name to one of the fae. They could find you anywhere. "Patrick." . David walks in the woods behind the motel. Patrick waits in a ring of forget-me-nots.

2024

A Perfect Pear [david/patrick, G, 100] by @a-noble-dragon

The pear is so ripe, that Patrick’s knife easily slices through the soft buttery texture. Perfumed notes are released into the air, fragrant and delicious.

Wish I Could Be [david/patrick, G, 100] by @a-noble-dragon

Prince Patrick’s ship sails straight into the eye of the storm, and David quickly follows it, his tail swishing in agitation and leaving behind a trail of sea-foam on the ocean’s surface.

Without a 2nd thought [david/patrick, E, 76,292] by @mammameesh

Patrick's first time in a gay club. He's been here 5 minutes and already he wants to go home. The music is too loud. The lights hurt his eyes. Then the lasers dance on a tall man. One, that seems to be looking him in the eye. Patrick turns around, half expecting to see someone else there. In a moment,light fingers brush his shoulders. He startles out of his haze. "Dance with me?" The stranger demands. Patrick raises an eyebrow but puts his hands on the stranger's waist, he starts to sway. Patrick swears he can see a dimple pop.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2018 2019: 3 fics/31,352 words 2020: 6 fics/26,562 words 2021: 8 fanworks (5 fics, 2 podfics, 1 combo)/100,437 words 2022: 12 fanworks (8 fics, 4 podfics)/131,310 words 2023: 4 fics/5,670 words 2024: 3 fics/76,492 words Total: 36 fanworks (29 fics, 6 podfics, 1 combo)/371,823 words

[turinspeachjam]

WIP Weekend!!

Make me write! Peer pressure apparently works wonders on me so here I am again!

Thanks @pearynice for tagging me and, of course, the other lovelies from @strangerthingswritersguild

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences from that WIP! No limits to the amount of emojis you can request.

👻 Steddie Big Bang - (still more behind than I'd like, so I'll happily take all the encouragement)

🌧 The Way That We Weather the Storm - Steve Storm Powers (still currently Gen)

🧠 A Place For Crows to Rest Their Feet - Stobin Songfic inspired by Marbles by The Amazing Devil (Stobin-centric in case that wasn't clear lol)

Here's a snippet from 🌧 The Way That We Weather the Storm (because my Big Bang is still a secret shhhh)

“Do you still swim in your pool,” Dustin asked apropos nothing.

Had he not been driving, Steve would have given Dustin a bewildered look. Alas, only the windshield bore witness to his obvious confusion.

“Huh?”

Steve nearly grimaced at his own response. He was supposed to be the older brother, the one with more life experience who knew best. Yet every time he opened his mouth around Dustin, he sounded so stupid. He could practically hear Nancy’s voice ringing in his ears.

You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.

“Mike said you had a pool and that Nancy’s best friend got snatched into the Upside Down because there was a portal in your pool. I was curious if you still swam in it. Mostly because I thought it’d be cool to be able to swim somewhere without being harassed by the local mouth-breather population.”

Dustin’s tone was matter-of-fact, no condescension to be found. Steve found himself relaxing, his shoulders and jaw aching slightly. He had not realized he had tensed up, his body shrinking in on itself at the sound of his own voice. His cheeks felt warm and his eyes were hot, but he quietly took a few deep breaths before answering Dustin’s question.

“I don’t live there anymore, so I guess I don’t swim in it.”

No pressure tags list: @tinytalkingtina @stellarspecter @helpimstuckposting @kikidoesfanfic @eriquin @sidekick-hero @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @sourw0lfs @little-annie @onirislanding @penny00dreadful @klausinamarink @queenofshenanigans @griefabyss69 @machtaholic @vthx

[bougiebutchbinch]

ugh I can't remember if it was an actual fic or just a concept that was batted (ha!) around but there was SOMETHING a while ago about...

18+ snippet under cut

Tw: horrible insinuated drugged rape, massive institutional abuse, and mindfuckery

Joker insists that he and Batman are in a committed relationship! They've said those three magic words to each other!!! They're ride or die! Why, they've made it to third base!

Batman is always sooooooo into him when he's at Arkham. So why won't he admit it when Joker breaks out for him so they can enjoy their dance on the streets again? Why does it seem like Batman doesn't remember all the kisses and bites (and more) they shared, whenever Batsy came to 'interrogate' him at the asylum????

Batman, who hasn't needed to visit Joker in Arkham for several months, presumes this is either some elaborate prank at his expense - or just Joker getting muddled between his versions of reality. But one time when he comes to actually interrogate his nemesis, he finds Joker pumped full of a new drug cocktail. He's blissed out and floppy and happy, reaching up to him for cuddles, confused why Batman pulls away. Saying stuff like "But baby, you were just here, why've you gone so cold? :c"

His Arkham jumpsuit isn't properly zipped (Joker's hands are waaaay too weak on the drugs to do the zippers up again properly - he giggles as he tries and fails, the high noise twisting screws into Batman's brain -). And there, when he turns... The green curls, sweat-damp, fall aside, revealing an angry ring on his neck. The imprint of teeth.

Batman's eyes flick back and forth, cataloguing, even as his stomach drops and his fists clench. He notes the tiny shred of black material on the corner of his bed, like it tore when someone left in a hurry. Someone wearing a cloak - not of kevlar, but of cheap, poorly made fabric...

"Can't you just hold me for a bit?" grumbles Joker. He ragdolls on the tiny cot, all loose limbs and unfocused eyes (and, Bruce cannot help but notice, through the gaping zipper of his jumpsuit, bruises. A lot of bruises.). "Why's it gotta be such a rough'n'tumble pump'n'dump with you, huh? Can't we shnuggle?"

He makes grabby-hands at Batman. Batman feels a little sick.

"It's okay though," mumbles Joker, head lolling. "You came back. I don't mind so long as you come back, darling."

Bruce's compassion is his biggest strength - and, some would say, his biggest weakness. He should perhaps hesitate longer, before sitting on the edge of the bed and letting Joker - a bundle of fever-hot bones - burrow happily into his arms. He holds him until his breath evens and his eyes start twitching under their lids, then gently lays him in the cot. Gloved fingers lingering, before pulling up that damning zip.

Then he stalks off to find whoever hurt his clown, before Joker realises what's happened to him and burns all of Gotham down.

[stellewriites]

wip wednesday

tagged by the talented & lovely @ohlawdthebirds last wip wednesday but alas i had nothing written, this week you can all have a snippet from ‘an occasion of sin’ my butch soap fic

context: johnny has a healing tongue piercing and can’t kiss or eat out reader for another week - she’s as impatient about it as you’d expect

cw: religion, sacrilegious metaphors (more in the main piece but just in case), hint of smut

she scratched at your scalp softly while holding you close. “don’t remember this in bible study.”

“i’ll happily catch you up to speed if you’re behind, i’m very studious,” you teased. you blew cold air against her wet nipple and giggled when she groaned. “but it has been a while…”

johnny pulled you up and kissed you firmly, managing to keep her tongue to herself only just.

“i can remind ye how it’s done,” she offered already moving to get you underneath her.

“mmm, you’ve still got a week to go with that,” you gestured at her tongue. “but it doesn’t mean i can’t put my mouth to work.”

“yer too good t’me,” she crooned. you settled back between her thick thighs and rested your hands in the creases of her groin. reaching down with your thumbs, you gently spread her pussy and took a deep breath. she’d been on a low dose of testosterone for a year now and it had a few side effects that you hadn’t realised would turn you on so much. a deeper tone to her voice, her scent becoming thicker, and her taste…

cutting off here so i don’t give you any spoilers for the main event 🤭 should be out soon-ish but im back at work now which will slow me down considerably ://

npt to share what ur working on: @pricegouge @soapcloth @3amfanfiction @pricetagged @syoddeye @jackrabbitem

[emphasisonthehomo]

I finished Threshold earlier today and, god. I absolutely loved it. Your writing voice is gorgeous and it suits the characters so well. They felt rooted in reality, as far as fictional characters can, and them exploring uncharted territory together had a beautiful slice of life feeling to it. Not uncomplicated but they're trying so hard for each other and that's what makes it a new favourite of mine. Are you working on anything else in that AU or is it a finished story? Absolutely no pressure of course, I am just as invested in your popstar AU and will happily accept whatever you're sharing. I'm so glad I found your account!

Oh my god, thank you so much!

I do have more planned for Threshold, but frankly I'm a little irritated at canon and because of that it's been difficult to play in that sandbox. Plus I've been thoroughly distracted by the popstar!au.

Spoilers!

The basic plot for the next section of Threshold is that Tommy's mom shows up and things get complicated. Have a snippet.

•

That thunderstorm blew some shingles off the roof. A day later and Tommy’s waiting for a call to schedule someone to drop by and give him a quote. It’s the only reason he answers the phone. As a rule he ignores calls from unknown numbers, if someone needs to talk to him that badly, they’ll leave a voicemail.

“Kinard,” Tommy says, wedging the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he snags a couple coffee mugs from the cabinet.

Evan, shirtless and sleep rumpled, sits at Tommy’s kitchen table.

“Hi,” It’s a woman’s voice, achingly familiar. 

The bottom drops out of Tommy’s stomach. He puts the mugs onto the counter with too much force. Twin clatters, one after the other, echo around the kitchen. Evan’s head snaps up from where he was looking down at his phone, his face creased with concern.

“Mom?” Tommy asks.

Evan stands so quickly that his thighs hit the edge of the table, jolting it out of place with a loud skidding noise.

“Yeah, honey,” Donna says, with a nervous laugh, an exhale of static across the line, “Sorry to call you out of the blue.”

“Why are you calling?” Tommy knows it comes out curt. Rude.

It’s not intentional. He’s just shocked. It’s been a very, very long time.

“I–” Her voice cracks, and Tommy realizes with sickness pooling in his gut, that she’s crying, “I just wanted to talk to you. It’s Tommy now, right?”

Evan strides over to Tommy and starts to tug him, pulling him towards one of the empty chairs by the table. It doesn’t feel like Tommy’s moving, he doesn’t register his own feet on the hardwood. Evan shoves him gently until he sits down.

[crazy-ache]

Cat!Elain WIP Snippet

Sharing because @sad-scarred-sassy reminded me of a vision I am currently working on

Rhysand skimmed his violet eyes along the room in silent judgment until they landed on Lucien. Elain stood up on her four small legs in attention at his arrival, and in turn, Rhysand did a sudden double take, as if he had just registered her tiny presence in the room. 

They focused entirely too long on Elain. Her wide eyes blinked at him. He blinked back in confusion.

Then a nearly feline grin spread across his face. Elain would know, being a cat and all. 

Well, well, well. Isn’t this an interesting turn of events?

Rhysands voice entered her mind with a low drawl and laugh. 

"Get me out of here! I’ve been turned into a cat. He doesn’t realize—" Her desperate pleading only came out as high-pitched meows.

But Rhysand had turned away from her to lazily look at Lucien, ignoring her chittering. It made Elain tense every muscle in her small body in anticipation. This was it! Rhysand would tell him and he could get Tamlin to shift her back. She would finally be free! She had never thought she would miss her Fae body so much until now.

“I’m here to happily report that Elain has been found," Rhysand told Lucien. The red-haired male straightened his spine, narrowing his eyes at the High Lord of Night.

Elain jumped to the carpet, ready to practically prance around joyfully. She began smoothing her white coat with a quick lick as if in preparation for being transformed back any moment to her normal self.

“She was found elsewhere. She’s back home. Safe and sound.”

What the hell?

“Where? How?” Lucien asked. Thank the gods somebody was able to ask the right questions.

“She was found in Day. Outskirts of the Night Court. Accidentally winnowed herself there. She’ll be fine.” Rhysand did not even bother to look in her direction which infuriated her more.

Elain’s claws instantly unsheathed themselves in anger. 

I think this will be good for you. You couldn’t be in better hands than with your mate. I'll check back in...later.

His laugh echoed. 

“Is Elain alright?” Lucien's voice was tight but concerned.

“Oh, you know what they say. She’s much like that cat right there," Rhysand jerked his chin at Elain's form. "She lands on her feet wherever she goes.”

You bastard! You bastard. You are going to regret this. 

But he wasn’t in her mind anymore, already sauntering to the door. And she couldn’t speak. So everything came out as a low, drawn out hiss. 

“Lady, stop it. I’m sorry, she’s never behaved this way before—“

“I’m not particularly a cat person," Rhysand smirked down at her.

It was the way he was looking at her, entirely too pleased. She couldn’t control the way her muscles tensed, her little behind swaying back and forth before she launched herself at his arm. Oh, he’d pay. 

[astarioffsimpmain]

Snippet Sunday

I decided to share another WIP from my Gale x Lyra reverse isekai long fic! Gale has just appeared in Lyra's bedroom and she thinks she's lost her mind, while Gale is just trying to be a gentleman.

~

“Y-You’re in the United States,” you muttered, not moving from your place on the floor. “You’re on earth,” you corrected yourself quickly. Would hallucination-Gale know what that meant?  

“I know I have been very rude,” he said, coming to sit cross-legged beside you. “-bursting into your home like some wild delinquent. I apologize, sincerely. I had no idea where my experiments would land me. But, on my honor, and by the grace of the Weave, I swear to you, I am more than trustworthy enough to deserve your bestowed trust. Besides, I’m certain we are not too far away from my tower, and I will happily prove the credibility of my words over a cup of your preferred beverage."

Tagging: @tociminna @senualothbrok @saucy-scribbler @fanon-and-canon and @yennefer-of-vengerbergs !

[drabblesandsnippets]

Snippet #3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: Edited scene of something I wrote for a friend

Summary: All Bucky wants is to make his girlfriend’s day better.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Sexual content. Romance/fluff. Praise.

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

From the second she walks in the door, Bucky can tell things had only gotten worse in the couple of hours since they talked. He knows better than to bombard her with questions, giving her space after they share a brief hello, letting her come to him after she changes into her normal oversized shirt and sweatpants. 

He gives her a warm smile when she reappears, the sight of her never ceasing to make his heart race, even with the messy bun atop her head and the t-shirt that’s seen better days. He loves every single part of her, and his favorite moments are when he gets to see the parts of her that she only shares with him. The vulnerable moments, the small pieces of her that she hides from others, scared of their judgements. She gets to let go of all the masks with him, and it’s one of the most beautiful things he gets to witness.

Bucky can tell all she needs right now is for him to listen, without the need to offer any sort of advice, and he's more than happy to be her sounding board. He actively listens to all the silly frustrations that managed to get under her skin today, the stupid things that made her ready to pull her hair out.

By the time she’s released all the pent up feelings, she’s finally beginning to relax, but Bucky’s still not satisfied. He ignores the old-fashioned part of him that wants her to quit her job, leave all the frustration behind, and be a house wife. He blinks away the brief image of coming home to her wearing nothing but an apron, his cock twitching at the thought, and instead talks her into a massage.

It doesn’t take much convincing. Within moments, she’s laying on their bed, Bucky straddling her legs as he rubs the tension out of her back and shoulders. She loses track of time, allowing him to take care of her, happily letting all other thoughts leave her, only vaguely aware of the almost pornographic noises coming out of her.

Bucky’s far from wanting to complain though. He’s getting to touch her, make her feel better, and listen to her moan - three of his favorite things. He ignores his growing erection for now and keeps his focus on the massage, paying attention to all her sore spots while easing up on the sensitive areas of her back. He smiles at the soft sounds leaving her with each movement of his hands, suddenly feeling grateful to have her trust. 

He slowly works his hands back up to her shoulders, leaning forward slightly as he rubs the tension there, telling her, “Thank you for letting me take care of you.” There’s no need for her to speak, her little noises of appreciation more than enough to satisfy him, his hands never stopping their magical touch. She can barely remember her name at this point, let alone anything else that’s happened today, and that’s exactly how Bucky wants it.

“You’re always taking care of everyone else,” he continues, the palms of his hands moving down the center of her back, letting up on the pressure just a bit. “But, I know it’s hard to let people take care of you, so thank you.” She turns her head slightly to hear him better, but keeps her eyes closed as a slight blush colors her cheeks.

She loves being praised by him, almost as much as Bucky loves praising her, but it still makes her flustered, especially if they’re not in the middle of sex. Sometimes even then too. She can’t see it, but Bucky’s smile grows at her reaction and he changes tactics, his fingertips starting to lightly trace up her back, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“How about you let me keep taking care of you?” he asks, the tenderness of his voice matching his touch, making her heart flutter. Coherent words left her a long time ago, but she still manages to voice her consent. And the moment she does, he leans forward again, his hand sliding up to rub against the back of her neck. “I’m gonna take my time,” he tells her, his breath warm against her ear, “give you everything you need tonight.”

She’s not even sure she responds, other than with a loud moan of need as her hips lift to reach him, his words making her body pulse with pleasure. Bucky’s body reacts to her desire, his own hips grinding against her, letting her feel how hard she makes him. As much as his cock wants him to just push her pants down and take her like this - she’d be more than willing - he’s a man of his word.

With the same measured pace, his hand slips underneath her shirt, the soft touch of his fingers along her waist causing goosebumps to spread across her skin. He undresses her slowly, his lips touching every inch of skin he exposes, whispering words of praise, leaving her panting for more. When he finally turns her over onto her back, he repeats the process, taking his time to pull her sweatpants down her legs, kissing a trail to her ankles.

“I’m so proud to call you mine,” he tells her once he settles back between her legs, his eyes roaming over her flushed body. She watches as his hand reaches down, almost subconsciously, to grab his cock through his jeans, clearly trying to relieve some of the pressure. She wants to tell him he’s too overdressed, that she wants to feel more of him, but all she can do is look up at him, silently pleading for more.

There’s time for teasing, but not tonight. With a quick pull, Bucky removes his shirt and tosses it off the bed, barely giving her a chance to appreciate his body before he’s on her again, meeting her in a passionate kiss. They lose themselves in the intimate connection, their need for each other growing until they finally part and Bucky rests his forehead gently against hers, breathing heavily. “You’re so incredible,” he tells her. “You’re so strong.”

He starts peppering kisses along her skin again, across her jaw before dipping down to her throat. “Intelligent.” His kisses move to her collarbone. “Kind.” With each word, her mind starts to fully relax again, accepting the praise, her body trembling with need. And just before his mouth closes over her nipple, he reminds her, “And the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever seen.”

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

Main Masterlist

[prism-empurress]

ISAT next gen au, chapter 1.

Hi everyone! Remember that snippet I shared that was really well liked? Well here's the full thing! Chapter 1. It's Isafrin centric but I'm going to make sure everybody else has their time to shine as the story progresses.

Everybody lives together, but Loop is still missing. They'll show up eventually though.

CW for postpartum body and muscular separation.

---

Chapter 1; "Needing a bigger nest"

Siffrin scooped up his chunky baby from her crib, as she squealed happily upon seeing the return of both him and Isabeau. Celeste clung to Siffrin, giggling and kicking her feet.

“Hiiii baby star,” Siffrin cooed, moving her hair from her face and smiling wide. “Did you have a good nap?”

Odile sighed heavily, “Of course after we put her down for a nap, you two dorks show back up.”

Isabeau grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. They had just returned from their honeymoon after being away for a week.

“We...missed her a lot, while we were away.” Isabeau said, walking over and wiggling a finger in front of his little girl.

“You were gone for one week,” Odile laughed, “Seriously.”

Bonnie gasped, eyes twinkling, upon the return of them, and ran right over, hugging Siffrin’s side.

“Frin!” They exclaimed, “Za! Hi!”

Siffrin laughed, “Hey Bonbon. Do anything cool while we were gone?”

“No,” Bonnie sighed, “Just grocery shopping. Nille had to leave for another boat ride, but she told us to tell you that she’d be back in a week or so.”

“Awh.” Isabeau sighed, “I wanted to thank her for being at our bonding ceremony.”

Celeste squealed, kicking Siffrin right in the chest. Siffrin wheezed, looking down at her.

“Haven’t you done enough of that while you were growing?” They laughed, rubbing her belly. Celeste grabbed one of Siffrin’s fingers, squeezing it tightly. “Oooh, strong grip!”

“She wasn’t any trouble while we were gone, right?” Isabeau looked at Odile, who merely crossed her arms in response.

“She’s five months. She can’t do anything except hold her head up, hold her bottle, flail her arms, and squeak.” She said, shaking her head.

Mirabelle walked over, wearing a simple clothing. “Earlier, she did spill formula over me...she somehow yanked the nipple off her bottle.”

Isabeau gasped, “Just like when I was a baby…”

Siffrin laughed, handing Celeste over to Isabeau, who gladly took her into his arms. Isabeau kissed her tiny face multiple times, making the “mwah” sound with every peck. He tickled his little girl, earning many squeaks and squeals in return.

“Aaaagh, I’m never leaving you ever again. Ever ever ever.” Isabeau sighed, holding Celeste close. “Even though you like to kick.”

Finally, the luggage was brought all the way into the family’s humble home, unpacked and put away. As Siffrin was playing peekaboo with Celeste, Isabeau and the others were chatting over tea in the living room.

“I love our house, I really do.” Isabeau said, “But as Celeste gets older…”

“She’s going to need more space.” Odile stated. “Or else the two of you will be tripping over toys, left and right.”

Isabeau grimaced, glancing over at the happy girl. She was going to grow up before anybody knew it. Siffrin picked Celeste up, pretending to bite her tiny toes. This resulted in more adorable squealing for the family to coo over.

When she was born, the family had lived in a multiple room home, but...there was no room for a nursery. So, Celeste had spent her first few months of life in a crib in Isabeau and Siffrin’s shared room. But would this have effected her mentally, down the line? She was a clingy little girl, getting upset if she didn’t see anybody she recognized. Regardless, Celeste knew nothing but love in this household.

Siffrin took a home made wooden rattle out from one of his many pockets, and shook it in front of her. It wasn’t his best work, but it still did it’s job. The wooden rattle was painted dark, with light speckles to resemble stars. Inside of it were wooden beads. Celeste laughed, reaching for it.

Isabeau smiled at the sight, then looked out the window. The area didn’t really have a yard or backyard for the little girl to play in. Nor was there any room for a swingset. For Celeste to grow and thrive, she needed a bigger house to call home.

“I’ll prepare some formula for her.” Bonnie said, getting off of their seat. “I wanna feed her. Can I, Frin?”

Siffrin smiled warmly at Bonnie, “Of course. Just remember to support the head.”

Isabeau was still doing math inside of his head, running various calculations...until Odile snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Just look for available properties in the newspaper, Isabeau.” Odile said. “I’m confident we can find a new place to move in to.”

Bonnie left for the kitchen, and Siffrin joked “I can’t wait to teach her how to throw a dagger.”

Isabeau gasped in horror. “No no no! No sharp things!”

“Kidding, Isa.” Siffrin stuck their tongue out at him, which Celeste copied.

Mirabelle gasped, “She mimicked you just now!”

“She did?” Siffrin looked back at Celeste, and stuck his tongue out again. She followed suit.

Siffrin stuck his tongue out for longer, and Celeste did the same, until Siffrin stopped.

“Birds of a feather,” Odile laughed. “She’s going to be a major trouble maker around the two year mark.”

“Ahhh we can handle it, m’dame!” Isabeau said, waving away her worries. “She can draw on the walls a little bit, as a treat.”

“Surely you’re aware of how pricey it is to replace wallpaper…” She murmured.

With Bonnie in the kitchen, they washed Celeste’s bottle and dried it thoroughly before assembling the formula. Bonnie tested the liquid by dribbling a droplet on their wrist, and the result was perfectly warm. They carried the bottle with pride back into the living room, grinning at Siffrin. Siffrin smiled, picking up Celeste and handing her over, guiding Bonnie on how to hold her.

“I know how to do this, Frin.” Bonnie pouted, putting the rubber nipple to Celeste’s face.

Celeste immediately latched on, smiling while she suckled. Her chubby hands reached to hold the bottle up, but Bonnie kept their grip on it. Isabeau walked over, beaming with pride, as he sat next to Siffrin on the floor. Siffrin leaned against his hubby, stealthily planting a kiss on his jawline.

“It’s like she’s getting cuter every day,” Isabeau sighed. “Those chubby cheeks, that darkless hair, oh and the freckles!”

“Hard to believe, but, in a few months she’s going to start crawling…” Siffrin laughed, “So many places to explore and so much mischief to cause!”

Celeste finished her bottle, letting go of it and hiccuping. Bonnie held her upright, head on their shoulder, and patted her back to make her burp. Celeste burped, rather impressively, making everybody laugh.

“That’s my girl,” Isabeau chuckled, reaching for her.

Bonnie swatted his hand away, “No. She’s mine.”

“Uhm. Bonbon. You’ve had all week to fuss over her. Let me have her back.” Isabeau said.

“Well...Bonnie has been super attached to her, ever since Celeste was brought into the world…” Mirabelle fidgeted with her hands. “As has our rescue cat. Who somehow knew from the start something was up.”

She playfully glared at Siffrin, who laughed nervously.

“I apologized fifty times, Mira.” They said. “For keeping that secret from the rest of you. I was…”

Siffrin sighed, “I was scared of how you would react.”

Mira reassuringly patted his back, “Siffrin, it’s fine. I was messing with you. I’m just glad Celeste was born with no issues.”

Self consciously, Siffrin rubbed the loose skin that had presented itself after the birth. His gloved fingers traveled upwards to the area below his ribcage, and he grimaced. He still wasn’t used to it. But the doctor did say the muscular separation would close up if Siffrin did the proper exercises.

“Siffrin?” Mirabelle pursed her lips, “Are you okay?”

“Ah. Sorry.” Siffrin blushed, “Just...erm...recalling the big event and...what it did to my body.”

“Hmm.” Mirabelle pondered.

“No regrets!” Siffrin spat out. “No regrets at all! I just...feel…”

He struggled to find the right words.

“I think...I’m still recovering from it all?” Siffrin grinned. “It still feels like yesterday she came into our lives.”

Mirabelle giggled, “It certainly feels the same way for all of us!”

Coming out of hiding and stretching like she woke up from a nap, was the family’s rescued cat. Star was a pure lightless cat that came home with everyone one day after being spotted and assessed. She was only three months old when discovered, but after she was brought home and washed up, she received a clean bill of health. After getting used to everyone and her new environment, her personality began to shine. She demonstrated fierce hunting skills with her toys, and on multiple ocassions rested her head on Siffrin’s stomach. Even during the surprise baby shower, she presented a felt mouse to Siffrin that was very well loved.

Star waltzed right up to Siffrin, rubbing against their knee.

“Well there you are,” Siffrin said, picking her up and kissing her on the head, “Were you put down for a nap, too?”

“Oh no.” Odile shook her head, “Miss thing over here knocked over the decorative bottles on one of our shelves and ran off after they crashed down. There were no survivors.”

“So she avoided being scolded?” Isabeau laughed.

Bonnie carried Celeste over to Star, saying “Watch this!” to Siffrin.

Siffrin gasped as Celeste softly extended her hands to touch the feline friend, kicking her feet again happily.

“She knows how to give gentle pets!” Siffrin smiled, “I’m glad.”

“Star sometimes pets her, too.” Odile added. “No claws, either.”

Isabeau yawned, stretching and standing up from his spot.

“I’m really glad to be back home with you guys but I’m worn out.” He said, as Bonnie finally allowed him to hold Celeste again. “Me and the little one will lay down for a bit.”

Siffrin locked eyes with Isabeau, then looked at Celeste.

“I’m napping, too.” He said, getting up from where he was sitting.

“Alright! Mini-family nap!” Isabeau laughed softly.

Isabeau carried Celeste, while he and Siffrin walked to their shared room. But instead of putting Celeste back into her crib after being wrapped up in her lightless blanket, she was placed on the bed as Isabeau climbed into it. Siffrin followed suit, on the other side, staring at his little girl in awe. Celeste, sandwiched between the two of them, yawned softly, feeling nothing but utter love and safety.

Multiple anxieties danced in Isabeau’s and Siffrin’s minds, though. Ranging from Celeste’s developmental milestones, her overall well being, to their own individual insecurites of parenting. Isabeau never wanted Celeste to go through what he had to as a child, and Siffrin...was utterly afraid of doing anything wrong. He often held her like she was glass. He’d rather he broke instead of his beloved child.

But Isabeau softly patted Siffrin’s hand, to reassure him that they were all doing their best for her.

“I’m still scared, Isa.” Siffrin whispered, petting Celeste’s head while she slept. “What if she gets sick?”

“She had her shots two weeks ago, and everybody handles her with clean hands.” Isabeau said. “But, yeah, it is a big scary world out there…”

Silence, still gazing adoringly at little Celeste.

“She’s beautiful. There’s me and you in her.” Isabeau said after a while. “And she has a happy sound, the squeaking. I hope she never stops doing that.”

Siffrin chuckled, feeling safe, but also very very tired. He drifted off as well. Leaving just Isabeau to admire both Celeste and Siffrin.

He pulled a blanket over Siffrin, stroking his face. In the back of his mind, Isabeau recited his vow to protect Siffrin and their baby from harm.

[agirlandherquill]

beautifully monstrous

all right, i'll more than happily admit that watching rots for the 20th anniversary did something to me - it finally, finally gave me the seed of a story i have spent so long, since Ruin's Reprisals first conception, wanting to tell. so, yes, this little prequel of mine might very well be my form of a love letter to the gorgeous tragedy of anakin and padmé, but it's also a tribute to the past that led to the stories my characters have faced, and are going to - so, without further ado, let me introduce you to the story of Maenaire and Thistlegrair, and I'm introducing this somewhat backward to you all, for the first snippet I'm sharing is of their story's ending - but I think it works best that way, as their ending is inevitable and it'll always haunt the rest of the story, but it's the journey that is just as important as the ending, and that's what I hope this story will give you all.

for now, it is a story without a title, but I'll give it a placeholder - Monstrous

“You were mine.” He whispered, his fingers gentle as they traced the freckles of her cheeks, following their curve to her jaw. “You were the only thing I ever loved. And even Death could not take you from me, because I stopped him. Because I could not lose you, I won’t. And now, I’ll never have to.”

She flinched away from his touch, a recoil so slight it was all the more powerful. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what, my love?” The confusion in his eyes was an ache that would not leave her alone. 

“In the things you’ve done, it is you who have pushed me away, you are the very reason you’ve lost me.” Her throat burned as she forced the words out. “The man I love… I can’t see him any more. And that frightens me. It frightens me more than being without my heart in my chest. You are not him. You haven’t been him for a long time. I don’t love you. I am afraid of you.”

The little colour left in his skin disappeared in an instant. “You… You fear me?”

“I fear the things you’re capable of. The things you have done. The things that I have begged you not to do.” Guilt was her own wound to bear, and it had buried deep.

“Why-Why are you afraid of me?”

“I don’t know you, Thist. I no longer see the man I love. And it kills me. Every time you look at me with that darkness, that damned, wretched power in your eyes, it kills me!”

The confusion was swept from his face in an instant. His mouth twisted with rage. “I did this for you!”

Her own rage rose to counter him. “I never wanted you to. I never asked. I never helped. All I ever did was try to make you see that there was another way. You didn’t have to slaughter those people. You didn’t need to torment Death and his men - We could have taken my heart back. We could have saved me, and you, in a much, much easier way - But you didn’t even consider it, did you? The moment you learned you had power, you got greedy. You wanted more. What you had was never enough. And I couldn’t restrain you anymore. I’m not strong enough for that. But I am strong enough for this.” She reached into her pocket, her chest heaving with furious sobs as she closed the space between them. “I cannot save myself from you, but I can save everyone else. It will be my blood, my life, that will bind you. That will curse you for eternity for the things you’ve done. History will not remember us, and I beg it to forget. Because this will never happen again, do you hear me Thist? You will never harm another soul. I swear it, upon the sea and sky, upon the honour of the Haelish and Spire, and upon the name of my blood. I, Maenaire, of House Vitaire, will be your end, Thistlegrair of Saveirn. Let this be your punishment. Let this be your grief. Let this fit the atrocity of your unnatural crime.” She pierced his chest with her glass dagger, and hugged him close, letting her tears slip free down her cheeks as she cradled his head to her ear. “Let this moment be yours and mine. Let us remember who we were, and let us grieve who we’ve become.”

“Maenaire, no-” He gripped her tight, his body shaking, it was a wonder she was strong enough to hold onto him, but hold she did. She held him like she had never done before. Their embrace was tender, their embrace was torture, and she would never let him go.

“You’re going to sleep, my love. Always. I will not hurt you. I will not kill you. But this must be done. This is all I can do. This, an eternal slumber, is how I must make you suffer for the things you’ve done.” She twisted the dagger. “And this? This is for the lives you’ve lost. For the future we should have had together. Let this dagger bruise your heart as you’ve bruised mine, and bring you to slumber. Rest now.” She whispered, pressing her lips to his hair as his weight started to sag against her. “Rest, evermore, and always remember - For the monster you are, there is good to defeat it. And there is good somewhere in you, still, I know it. You will find it one day. Centuries may pass, times may change, but that good will live on. That good will grow. And that good too will change.” She sighed against his cheek, moving to press her lips to his, a final, fleeting encounter. “Goodbye, my love, and forgive me for this. Forgive me for failing. Forgive me too, for the things I have done.”

“Maenaire…” His voice was tired, he was fighting the dagger but not for very long, she could feel him slipping with each breath he took. “I love you.”

“And I love you - but sometimes…” She shifted to bear the weight of his surrendering limbs, his body was spent, his time was almost done. “Love is not enough.”

~ ~ ~

now for the tag list!

(p.s if you'd like to be included/notified too, interact with this post :) p.p.s im finally getting around to updating it, so bear with me :))

@humbly-a-doppelganger @imawholeassmood @frostedlemonwriter @yrndrgn @abditorywriting

@riveriafalll @lead-to-code @casualsuitturtle @floweryprosegarden @joeys-piano

@catwingsathena @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @anaisbebe

@drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @tiredpapergirl @pastelpinkhobbies @a-mimsy-borogove

@the-letterbox-archives @corinneglass @darkluminosity @kuebiko-writing @seastarblue

@aalinaaaaaa