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artsfavoritehorn · 20 days ago

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Terrifier Secret Santa Gift for @thatspookyghoul996 🎄🎅🎁❤️

Here's my Secret Santa swap gift for @thatspookyghoul996 ❤️🎄 I decided to write a sweet and spicy little fic with Art and I hope you enjoy! Have a Terrifier Christmas my friend!🫶🤡🤘🥰 (fluff and a bit of smut so slight nsfw warning 👀😋)

Word count: 1,835🤡

It was a quiet evening at home, a few days before Christmas. The calming aura of the sparkling Christmas string lights reflecting off the frosted windows and twinkling across the surface of the snow outside provided a heightened sense of coziness as you sat on the sofa with one of your favorite novels and a freshly brewed cup of hot chocolate, having just begun to wind down after a long days of getting your chores done. All of a sudden, a cluster of heavy thumps could be heard trudging around on the roof above you, your heart immediately racing because you were home alone- it wasn't even the 25th yet, it COULDN’T be Santa…

Your worried thoughts were interrupted as a loud crash followed by a plop came from outside, whatever was on the roof having miss-stepped on an icy patch and slipped off the roof, tumbling down and landing directly into the heavy thick snow.

You glanced out the front window, just being able to make out a large person-shaped hole in the mound of snow in the front yard- all of a sudden a gloved hand popped up out of it, waving around; of course it was none other than your boyfriend Art. He had discovered his love for Santa this year and was getting almost obsessively into the role, so it didn't surprise you that he would of course try to enter your house through the chimney at some point during the month.Thank heavens that you hadn't had a fire going currently in your fireplace, and thank god he actually fell before he could even get a chance to start shimmying his way down the chimney- all you could envision was him getting STUCK in there and that would've been way more difficult and open a new host of challenges versus just having to go out and grab him out of the snow.

You suited up in your winter gear and opened the front door, carefully stepping out onto the porch, calling out to him.

“Art? Are you ok??”

His hand shot up out of the snow quickly, giving you a cheeky thumbs up.

“Are you… stuck in there, buddy?”

You received a second thumbs up yet again from the clown in response.

You shake your head and trudge over slowly to the snow pile, peeking over the side to see a big floof of red from the poofy Santa jacket, Art’s red clad ass sticking up in the air- you grabbed hold of it and gave him a little tug upwards, just enough for his front half to unstick from the snow and allow him better leverage to push himself up with his arms. Before pulling himself out of the hole completely, he looked back at you from over his shoulder, noticing your hands still on his hips and the precarious position he was in- his smirk grew, eyebrows raised suggestively. You stuck your tongue out at him and released him, making him fall forwards slightly into the snow yet again.

As soon as he pushed himself out of the snow hole, you flung a fresh snowball right at the back of Art’s head, nearly knocking the Santa hat off his head. He whipped his head back in your direction with a devilish grin, wagging his finger at you as if to say “You wouldn't wanna be moved to the naughty list this late into December, would you?”.

You giggled as he climbed out of the snow mound and started chasing after you, rushing back in through the threshold of the house before two strong arms wrapped around your midsection, causing you to squeak excitedly in his hold. He released you for a moment so you could remove your jacket and boots and then grabbed you again as soon as they were removed. Art carried you over to the couch in the living room where your electric heater was set up, having warmed up the room splendidly as he sat you down softly.

He looked down at you with his trademark grin as he towered over you, his already tall height seemingly elevated even more by the black boots he was now wearing to fit the theme of his costume. Art had been so beyond excited when he brought home the Santa suit a few nights prior and asked you to wash it (for reasons he did not divulge and that you didn't even wanna know) and he had to wait for it to dry before he could put it on, having been incredibly impatient over it- you didn't want to put it in the dryer in fear of ruining it. Come to think of it, you had noticed that the hanger the suit was drying on was barren after he left the house earlier that day, so he must've taken it with him to “spread Christmas cheer throughout the county”. Looking up and down at his jolly disguise, you decided to humor him, looking back up at the clown with your best doe eyes. “Is Santa still letting people sit on his lap at this hour? I'd love to tell him what I would like for Christmas.” Art's grin widened at your innocent enough sounding inquiry, an evil glint in his eyes he nodded his head excitedly, dashing over to sit in the big armchair in the corner of the room next to the glittering tree.

He patted his lap with his blood stained gloved hands, assuming the classic Santa position and getting into character rather quickly. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you stood up and walked over to him, his strong arms outstretched towards you, beckoning you to take a seat. Placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you slowly knelt down over his lap so that you were comfortably straddling him in the large chair, your legs resting over either side of the clown’s thighs. Art grinned down at you sitting pretty before him, raising one eyebrow inquisitively, silently asking you to tell him what you want. The contact of your clothed bodies pressed up against each other had your mind blank for a moment, savoring the delicious closeness of being so vulnerable in his lap. “All I want is you, baby. All of you- I love you so much, I don't need anything else when I've got you.”, you ended your declaration of love with a sweet kiss against his black painted lips, wrapping your arms around the back of his head, your fingers intertwining with the crisp white locks of his Santa wig as you pulled him in closer to you.

You shivered at the feeling of Art's hands sliding down your sides, resting at the curve of your hips and caressing the soft skin there. You pulled back from him to let out a soft moan, Art watching you intently as your head tilted back, exposing your neck, right there in front of him, just begging to have him wrap his fingers around and squeeze; Art held back though, not wanting to hurt you too much tonight- he'd save that idea for later use. Instead, he opted to rub his hands up and down your thighs, adoring the way they felt under his palms. Art shifted a bit so you were more situated on one of his thighs, moving you over ever so slightly, causing his leg to bump directly into your core in the process which made you let out another whimper; He looked back into your eyes with a challenging gaze, a glint of mischief at seeing what your next action would be at the way he shifted under you. Your eyes widened at his movement, having become very familiar with that look he was giving you- Art was offering for you to ride his thigh. You shakily exhaled, becoming lost in the intense feelings bubbling up in your stomach. “Oh, Art.”, you hummed softly as you began at a slow pace, experimentally rubbing yourself back and forth across the expanse of his thigh, the red fabric of the Santa suit offering a new layered sensation of softness that helped you move more freely.

Art’s hands found their landing pad on your hips yet again, steadying you and helping you to move even more. He couldn't get enough of all your little moans, the way your body contorted in pleasure as your pace continued to speed up with every passing second. Art removed one hand from your waist, bringing it up to grasp onto your chin, tilting your head down and making you look him in the eyes. One glance into his piercing gaze was all it took to make everything come crashing down, a crescendo of sparks going off in your body causing you to cry out. As you finished your ministrations against him, you gradually slowed down out of exhaustion and rested your sweaty forehead against Art’s shoulder, trying to calm your heavy breathing. Art's arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, his head finding its way to your neck and leaving soft kisses wherever he could. When you finally sat back to look at Art’s face, you couldn't help but smile; the twinkling of the string lights cast multicolored shadows across his pale white face, the reflection glistening off his teeth that were held in a wide smile that mirrored your own- he was beautiful, and he was yours. “Best Christmas ever, huh?” You joked, smirking up at him before sliding off his lap to get up and stretch.

Art nodded his head vigorously before glancing down at his red clad thigh, noticing a small wet spot staining his pants where you had just been sitting. He pointed at it and then at you and back at the spot again, folding his arms over his chest as if to say “Look at what you did, you stained my new outfit!”, knowing he was just teasing you. You shook your head, blush coming back as his actions made you laugh regardless, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I'll wash the suit again for you, don’t get your jingle bells in a twist over it.” Art’s frown morphed back into his usual smile, clapping his hands together in acceptance of your offer as he silently laughed, standing and scooping you up in a big hug. Setting you back down on your feet, your attention turned back to your waiting mug of hot chocolate. You picked it up and took a sip, grimacing slightly as it hit your mouth- the drink had gone cold after your little “distraction”. Looking back over at Art, you held the mug up and pointed at it. “My cocoa went cold- you wanna come with me to heat it up and I'll make one for you too?”. Art held his hands up, wiggling a bit in excitement and nodded, quickly following you into the kitchen for his promised sweet treat, looking forward to a cozy winter’s evening with his love.~

❤️🎄❤️🎄❤️🎄❤️🎄❤️

#terrifier secret Santa 2024 #terrifiersecretsanta2024 #merry Christmas!🎄❤️#a Terrifier Christmas #art the clown #terrifier #david howard thornton #terrifier 3 #art the clown x reader #art the clown x reader smut #art the clown smut

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tunaababee · 20 days ago

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our fingers touch (i feel my way back home)

for @rosanna-writer in the @acotargiftexchange 2024!

read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 7.2k

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Feyre Archeron has never much believed in soulmates, despite the mark along her back that's been there since birth indicating that there's someone out there for her. To keep the family afloat, her father has promised her to be wed to a powerful business associate of his, who definitely likes her... But not the mark running down her back.

Rhysand Sterling has kept the fact that he has a soulmate hidden - when you become the head of a crime family, you can't afford to have such obvious weaknesses. But there's a magnetic draw to the woman his rival is engaged to... And he's looking for some leverage on him.

As their worlds collide, it seems like it may have been meant to be.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SURPRISE!!! i'm your Secret Santa!! it's been an absolute blast being able to get to know you more, and to pick your brain to try and cobble together the perfect gift for you <3

i know i probably gave myself away because i can't hide myself well to save my life, but i really truly hope you love this. as soon as i got my assignment i was SO nervous on how i was going to live up to THE ariel jeremy jordan and her wonderful writing!!!! i have so much planned for this au because it got so much bigger than i anticipated in my head. can't wait to have you along for the ride!!

another huge thank you to @whatishowedyouinthedark, @berd-nerd and @popjunkie42 for beta reading as well!!

a snippet of the chapter is below, but you can keep reading the rest on AO3! no update schedule, but hopefully i will have more soon!!

i hope you enjoy! 💖

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Elbow perched on the bar countertop, head in her hand while wallowing in a hearty dose of depression and self-pity, she didn't even notice the stranger who had sidled up to the bar and took the seat next to her without a word. She didn't notice the way his gaze slowly trailed over her, absorbing every detail of her with a smug smirk on his face, or the way he turned his body around to face her as she grumbled quietly to herself.

"Aren't you the picture of merriment and joy?" he drawled, amusement trickling into the edges of his voice. Feyre's eyebrows knitted together in annoyance - who the fuck did this guy think he was? She whipped around on the barstool to face him, only to be surprised by who faced her. A stranger, sure, but not one like any of the others here. If she had been introduced to him, she would have remembered.

The man who sat before her was younger, for one - had a spark in his eyes, a life to him she didn't see in typical political and business suits. Most of the time they were decrepit, grey-haired near-retirees that gave off sleaze in waves. But this man was put-together, suave even. Thick, raven-black hair that was perfectly coiffed, save for a stray curl that fell over his forehead that helped him exude an almost boyish charm. Enthralling, deep blue eyes, plush lips and deeply tanned skin for miles. His suit was well tailored and crisply pressed, emphasising his athletic build. His broad hands, one holding his glass and the other on his meaty thigh, were littered with silver bands, simple and unadorned save for the eye-catching signet ring on his right hand.

He perplexed her. He fascinated her. He was downright beautiful, even.

Feyre couldn't be certain she wasn't drooling. At least she'd look as dull as this party felt if she was.

“Excuse me?”

#feysand #fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar gift exchange 2024

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pinkberrytea · 5 days ago

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midnight blue 🌙

Round, radiant and casting a creamy white halo, the moon stands before them proudly, imposingly, a celestial pearl in a sea of stars.

Diana may be too perceptive for her own good, but Astarion is no less insightful; he has a suprise for her, one she will not soon forget.

Spawn Astarion x Named F!Tav (Diana)

w/c: 1.5k words . spotify playlist . dividers

a/n: happy new year! this fic is a gift for @amoremagnificentbastard as part of our server's secret santa exchange. i was so excited that i got to write for diana, but also pretty intimidated since i feel like that's a huge responsibility! i hope i was able to do her justice. if you haven't read amy's distarion fics, please do yourself a favor and go read them already, i promise you won't be disappointed! i'd like to again thank @xxnashiraxx for her invaluable support; she was there holding my hand ever since the drafting stages, and i couldn't have done this without her. i love you friendo!

tags: hurt & comfort; fluff & angst

“How much farther, Astarion? I’m freezing,” the young priestess says, arms wrapped around herself in an unsuccessful effort to shield her shivering body from the harsh winter cold. Her coppery curls bounce with each step, the late night silence broken only by the howling wind and the crunch of snow underfoot. What was she thinking, indulging him when he insisted that they go on a “light hike”? Although in truth, denying him never came to her naturally, and it only seemed to become harder with every passing day; not that he made things any easier, but the amount of incentive required for Diana to submit to her lover’s whims had dropped to dangerously low levels in the past few months, much to her dismay.

“We’re almost there, darling.” Astarion’s face creases into a smuggish simper, and he stops, holding out a hand while waiting for her to catch up to him. “I thought you had snowfall in Amn?” he asks, voice laced with a playful lilt and eyebrows quirked upwards in feigned surprise. Diana pouts, forehead wrinkling with annoyance, acquiescing though begrudgingly and intertwining her fingers with his outstretched ones; as soon as she does, he pulls her to him and sneaks an arm around her shoulders, which doesn’t really help with the cold considering his own lack of natural heat, and yet the familiarity of his embrace brings her comfort anyway.

“We do. Just not like this,” she mutters, her softening frown betraying the disgruntled tone with which the words leave her lips. He plants a loving kiss on her temple before picking up the pace, and it doesn’t take long for the indigo sky to start peeking out through the dense foliage of the towering trees surrounding them, adorned with a glimmering blanket of twinkling stars.

“There. Just behind that rock,” Astarion says, pointing to the rocky outcrop at the end of the path they’d been following. Diana scrunches up her nose, disdain crafting her cerulean irises into a frustrated stare, but before she can protest, he squeezes her arm reassuringly and meets her gaze with rounded, almost pleading eyes. “You trust me, don’t you?”

The priestess is briefly taken aback, blinking slowly as if thinking of what to say; once enough time has passed, she lets out an exasperated sigh, hunching in defeat. “I do. You know I do. But gods, Astarion, climbing a rock? In the middle of the night? In this weather? That’s a big ask even for me,” she retorts, brushing her hair to one side, though the warmth radiating from her voice and the subtle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth tell a different story—one where he emerges victorious.

“I know, sweet girl. Thank the gods I have such a patient, understanding lover, hm?” he purrs, clearly pleased with himself. Diana sighs again, and without first shooting him a disapproving glance, she lets him guide her to the base of the rugged boulder. The night is bright enough that even her human eyes are able to make out all the ridges and crevices she’s supposed to use as leverage to reach the top, but still, Astarion steps forward and takes the lead, pulling her up as he slowly claws his way to the summit.

“Careful, darling.” Taking her hand in his, he watches her feet to make sure she’s keeping herself steady. The phantoms of days past rush through her mind as they inch closer to their intended destination, and in the minutes that follow, it’s as if they’re still lost in the wilderness with a mind flayer tadpole lodged within the recesses of their brains, a promise of ceremorphosis that would never come to be. They had climbed many a rock back then, though never during the night—their life together in the sun now feels like a distant dream, a wistful memory.

“Do you ever regret it?” Diana asks, her voice small, hushed, no louder than a whisper; they both lie naked in their shared bed, Astarion with his pectorals pressed flat against her back, one arm folded possessively around her hip. The sunlight casts dancing shadows from behind the tightly drawn curtains, almost teasingly, caressing the pure white sheets with ghostly brushes of its long, splaying fingers. His closed eyes twitch in acknowledgement of her question, but he remains quiet for a while; when she is finally convinced he has fallen back into a trance, he then suddenly breaks the silence, cold lips vibrating against the warm skin of her shoulder as he speaks.

“Regret what, darling?” The tone with which he articulates each word is remarkably gentle, tentative, even. She doesn’t reply immediately, trying to first contend with the inevitable pang in her chest, searching for the source of it, much as it eludes her. This happiness, this halcyon bliss, why does she think herself not entitled to it? Why does it cause such guilt to bloom in the depths of her heart? No matter how many times he reassures her, it seems her soul can’t be so easily swayed—they did the right thing, of that there is no doubt, but none of it holds any weight when she isn’t the one struggling with the consequences; when he’s the one sentenced to spend the rest of his days in darkness, never again to feel the sun on his face, never again to feels its soothing heat.

“Nothing. Forget it.” And just like that, Diana once more closes that door before it’s even opened. Truth be told, she’s terrified she won’t be able to seal it back shut; she’s terrified that whatever is hiding behind it will cause her fragile reverie to shatter into a thousand pieces, crumble into dust and dissolve in the ground beneath her feet. She’s afraid, so afraid—of losing him, of losing them, of losing everything.

Everything.

“My love?”

The silky sound of Astarion’s voice brings Diana back to the present, and she jerks her head up to look at him, eyes large and mouth slightly agape. With an eyebrow raised quizzically, he chooses to shrug her reaction off rather than dwell on it, propping himself with both arms to finally leap over the edge of the boulder; he then helps her do the same, and before long the two are standing on the highest point of the hill, hands still locked together.

“So? What do you think?” Astarion asks, staring at her expectantly, appearing almost boyish for a few fleeting moments. She returns his gaze with confusion coloring her expression, but shortly afterwards, his meaning at last becomes clear—a quick turn of her face reveals the reason why they have hiked all the way up to this place, and no sooner than such revelation is brought to light, Diana feels the threat of tears prickle her long lashes.

The full moon.

“By the Moonmaiden’s grace, Astarion… it’s beautiful,” she whispers, bringing a hand to her own quivering lips. Round, radiant and casting a creamy white halo, the moon stands before them proudly, imposingly, a celestial pearl in a sea of stars. It shines so intensely that the landscape splaying below them is fully visible to the naked eye, every tree, every stream, every stone and every flower laid completely bare, stripped from their shadowy secrets. It’s the wee hours, and yet it might as well be noon.

“You know, darling, when you made no mention of the usual request for a pint of milk with the full moon quickly approaching, I really began to worry.” Though his mouth curls up into a smirk, Astarion speaks with apologetic softness, his crimson irises gleaming affectionately. Using his free hand, he tucks an unruly lock of auburn hair behind Diana’s ear; softly brushing the pads of his elegant fingers against her cheek, he then cups it gently, gazing upon her with dreamy tenderness. “Whatever is afflicting you, my dear, we can work through it together. You need not keep it to yourself.”

The tears welling up in the priestess’ eyes finally roll down her now flushed face, leaving a glistening wet trail in their wake. Of course, how could she have been so foolish? Words are not required—she understands it now. One has no need for the sun when they are loved by the moon; one has no need for sunshine when they have the pale, forgiving glow of the Lady of Silver’s moonbeams illuminating the path forward. Astarion is not sentenced to live in darkness—not while Diana remains by his side, not while she is there to bathe him in light, warmth, and life.

Life. With everything it has to offer.

“I love you.”

Their lips touch before their eyelids close, and for a split second they’re each able to see the tiny flecks floating around the others’ pupils, swimming in pools of blood and moonlight. Diana wraps her arms around Astarion’s neck, and he wraps his around her waist; her tears taste salty on his tongue, his breath feels cool against her skin. The winter moon watches them warmly from its place amid the stars, cradling them in its soft embrace; it’s going to be okay. They’re going to be okay. Maybe not forever—maybe not even for long, but right now, all is well, and so it shall remain, until dawn breaks, painting the sky midnight blue.

#personal #astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #astarion x female tav #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #tavstarion #my fics #my art

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leverage-secret-santa-exchange · 11 days ago

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Day Two Reveals!

Betrayal Goes Both Ways for Maddie_Meraki

the strongest ties for faorism

Martry for musingmidge77

Second Time's the Charm for Griselda_Gimpel

[podfic] a sitch in time saves nine for SammiPhoenix

#leverage #leverage redemption #leveragesecretsanta #leverage secret santa #leverage secret santa 2024 #leveragesecretsanta2024

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 1 year ago

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Queer Books November 2023

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ The Pirate and the Porcelain Girl by Emily Riesbeck 🧡 Heading North by Holly M. Wendt 💛 The Wisdom of Bug by Alyson Root 💚 Trick Shot by Kayla Grosse 💙 A Holly Jolly Christmas by Emily Wright 💜 Outdrawn by Deanna Grey ❤️ Yours Celestially by Al Hess 🧡 The Christmas Memory by Barbara Winkes 💛 Violet Moon by Mel E. Lemon 💙 The Santa Pageant by Lillian Barry 💜 Only for the Holidays by Shannon O’Connor 🌈 Homestead for the Holidays by Wren Taylor

❤️ You Can Count on Me by Fae Quin 🧡 No One Left But You by Tash McAdam 💛 The Worst Thing of All is the Light by José Luis Serrano, Lawrence Schimel 💚 Today Tonight Forever by Madeline Kay Sneed 💙 Wren Martin Ruins It All by Amanda DeWitt 💜 Emmett by L. C. Rosen ❤️ Finding My Elf by David Valdes 🧡 Tonight, I Burn by Katharine J. Adams 💛 Gorgeous Gruesome Faces by Linda Cheng 💙 Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree 💜 A Power Unbound by Freya Marske 🌈 We Are the Crisis by Cadwell Turnbull

❤️ The Manor House Governess by C.A. Castle 🧡 You Owe Me One, Universe by Chad Lucas 💛 Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James 💚 Skip!: A Graphic Novel by Rebecca Burgess 💙 Something About Her by Clementine Taylor 💜 Touching the Art by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore ❤️ A Nearby Country Called Love by Salar Abdoh 🧡 Normporn: Queer Viewers and the TV That Soothes Us by Karen Tongson 💛 Sir Callie and the Dragon’s Roost by Esme Symes-Smith 💙 The Order of the Banshee by Robyn Singer 💜 Once Upon My Dads’ Divorce by Seamus Kirst, Noémie Gionet Landry 🌈 Forsooth by Jimmy Matejek-Morris

❤️ A Common Bond by T.M. Kuta 🧡 Risk the Fall by Riley Hart 💛 Just a Little Snack by Yah-Yah Scholfield 💚 Home for the Holidays by Erin Zak 💙 NeurodiVeRse by MJ James 💜 Dark Heir (Dark Rise #2) by C.S. Pacat ❤️ sub/Dom by Rab Green 🧡 Bitten by the Bond by Elaine White 💛 Heir to Frost and Storm by Ben Alderson 💙 The Sea of Stars by Gwenhyver 💜 Bad Beat by L.M. Bennett 🌈 Idol Moves by K.T. Salvo

❤️ Plot Twist by Erin La Rosa 🧡 In the Pines by Mariah Stillbrook 💛 The Crimson Fortress (The Ivory Key #2) by Akshaya Raman 💚 Only She Came Back by Margot Harrison 💙 Megumi & Tsugumi, Vol. 4 by Mitsuru Si 💜 Pritty by Keith F. Miller Jr. ❤️ Just Lizzie by Karen Wilfrid 🧡 An Atlas to Forever by Krystina Rivers 💛 Come Find Me in the Midnight Sun by Bailey Bridgewater 💙 Bait and Witch by Clifford Mae Henderson 💜 Shadow Baron by Davinia Evans 🌈 Day by Michael Cunningham

❤️ Livingston Girls by Briana Morgan 🧡 Delay of the Game by Ari Baran 💛 The Nanny with the Nice List by K. Sterling 💚 A Talent Ignited by Suzanne Lenoir 💙 A Kiss of the Siren’s Song by E.A.M. Trofimenkoff 💜 Rivals for Love by Ali Vali ❤️ Whiskey & Wine by Kelly Fireside, Tana Fireside 🧡 Buried Secrets by Sheri Lewis Wohl 💛 Ride with Me by Jenna Jarvis 💙 Living for You by Jenny Frame 💜 Death on the Water by CJ Birch 🌈 Merciless Waters by Rae Knowles

❤️ Vicarious by Chloe Spencer 🧡 Sapling’s Depths by Spencer Rose 💛 That French Summer by Sienna Waters 💚 System Overload by Saxon James 💙 King of Death by Lily Mayne 💜 Warts and All by Ashley Bennett ❤️ Principle Decisions by Thea Belmont 🧡 The Best Mistake by Emily O’Beirne 💛 Sugar and Ice by Eule Grey 💙 Until The Blood Runs Dry by MC Johnson 💜 Splinter : A Diverse Sleepy Hollow Retelling by Jasper Hyde 🌈 The Mischievous Letters of the Marquise de Q by Felicia Davin

❤️ The Queer Girl is Going to be Okay by Dale Walls 🧡 Til Death Do Us Bard by Rose Black 💛 Leverage by E.J. Noyes 💚 Alice Sadie Celine by Sarah Blakley-Cartwright 💙 Godly Heathens by H.E. Edgmon 💜 Gwen & Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher ❤️ To Kill a Shadow by Katherine Quinn 🧡 Warrior of the Wind by Suyi Davies Okungbowa 💛 For Never & Always by Helena Greer 💙 A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch by Sally Hawley 💜 Heaven Official’s Blessing: Tian Guan Ci Fu Vol. 8 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù 🌈 A Carol for Karol by Ann Roberts

#book release #queer fiction #queer romance #queer books #queer #books #books to read #queer book recs #book recs #batty about books #battyaboutbooks

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bcbdrums · 3 days ago

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The Heist

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3

A/N: For the Grigori Wings Discord Server's Secret Santa @sesecretsanta (finally)! My secret gift is for Ku-Hakku and they wanted something "where everyone is a white glove thief," and provided the song Ren'ai saiban as inspiration. This was also partly inspired by The Newsies, and of course, by the canon. I hope this short tale provides some enjoyment for you. Merry (late) Christmas!

The Heist

When he heard the gentle action of the door’s hinges, he held his breath within his place of concealment. The almost imperceptibly light step of a woman’s shoes on carpet followed, and then the measured release of the doorknob as the light from the hallway vanished. But for the beat of his heart, it was silent in the upstairs study of the mansion where the party was being held that evening.

Soul parted his lips, allowed his held breath to slowly slip out, and then with painful slowness inhaled again through his nose. He peered through the narrow gap in the drapes into the dark of the room, and as the expected figure stepped into view he found his posture automatically straightening in respect.

A lithe, slim form silently crossed the carpet, deliberately avoiding the thin panel of moonlight that Soul was careful to leave unbroken across the floor. Her black evening gown only served to accentuate the natural beauty that Soul had been admiring from afar for weeks throughout his investigation, and it was with further amazement that he watched her produce a small lockpick kit and calmly begin working on the wall safe that been hidden behind a portrait of his employer.

He had determined after weeks that she was working alone. And the thefts didn’t seem to be for money or leverage, as the stolen goods were just hidden away and forgotten afterward. And all that was ever left behind was her unique calling card - one that sought to frame him and his organization.

He had enough to arrest her now, but it wouldn’t answer the questions burning in his mind. And so he waited - waited until this time he would catch her red-handed and could perhaps find out why.

A single blonde pigtail fell over her shoulder as she tucked the papers into a black envelope, carefully secured the valuable documents away in her purse. And then she removed a tiny, glittering item to leave behind. Her calling card and the symbol of his department – a tiny, crystal scythe.

Soul took another breath as he watched her close the safe, listened to the soft click of the lock. Her black-gloved hands were soundless as she replaced the portrait of the grim-looking owner of the mansion, and then as she shouldered her purse and turned to go, the detective made his move.

“Maka Albarn,” he said, slowly pushing the drapes open.

She startled as the room was flooded in moonlight, and Soul watched her verdant eyes as they traveled from his feet up to his face as he stepped into view. A moment later her scowl was concealed as his shadow fell over hers, and his hands settled into his pockets while hers balled into fists at her sides.

"Curious choice of calling card," he continued as she glared at him. "Are you trying to frame me specifically, or just imply that my department is corrupt?"

She didn't answer immediately, and as the silence lingered Soul's awareness spread beyond the dark confines of the room to the sounds of the party beyond. The band had shifted into a slow jazz number, and the sounds of conversation that had been previously bolstered by alcohol were dwindling into something more subdued.

"What did you do to deserve the nickname anyway?" she finally replied.

Soul let his grin broaden to conceal his surprise. "So this is about me? I'm chuffed, Miss Albarn."

"Don't call me that," she fairly spat back. "And don't flatter yourself. This isn't about you."

"Then what is it about?"

"What do you care? Shouldn't you be cuffing me, Detective?"

Soul fought the rising heat under his collar and maintained his grin. "Oh, don't worry. I will. But I'm curious. Why would the daughter of a rich and powerful family who work for an even more rich and powerful family steal from them and then try to frame me of all people for the crimes?"

"It's not about you," she replied, her voice even more level than before.

Soul held his tongue then, considering. He didn't need to know the motive; he'd caught her red-handed, and the evidence from the prior thefts would all stack up neatly in court. But he hadn't risen to the rank of detective just to lock people up.

"I'll pretend my feelings aren't hurt," he continued as he considered his next tactic, finally stepping toward her to make it official. "Maybe you'll give me a second chance, though? You think your father will mind if the arresting officer makes social calls on his daughter until he bails you out?"

This elicited a scoff and a deeper scowl out of the beautiful thief, and he moved to her side as she surprisingly, obediently, put her hands behind her back.

"We haven't even officially met."

"Oh, come on. We've talked at all those parties your dad and the boss like to throw," Soul countered.

"Stop bringing up my father."

Her tone was one of near-fury, and it gave Soul pause. He let the handcuffs remain heavy in his jacket pocket and shifted his stance to look at her. She jaw was set in anger as she gazed up at him, and Soul's mind began to turn over the facts. The cogs were beginning to align, but he still didn't have a real answer.

"This isn't about me. This is about your father."

"No duh."

Her father, Chief of Police and the one responsible for the private security of the mayor, had early in his career gained the nickname 'the scythe' for his quick and rapid execution of justice when he was a mere detective. Soul had followed in his footsteps and now bore the moniker since the fairer Albarn's father had moved on to higher duties. Those under the senior Albarn's command were sometimes called 'the scythes' as well.

"Why..?" Soul took a step back, crossed the moonlit carpet of the study and moved toward a baby grand piano opposite. "Why would you want to frame your father for stealing from his boss?"

"Why do you call him his 'boss'?" she challenged.

Soul paused, reached up to grab his lapels as his face fell, and then leaned against the piano.

"You know they're all corrupt, too. The department has been corrupt since before you joined, and you're still working with them after you've found out," she continued. "Why?"

Soul's glinting grin finally fell to a frown. "It's not as simple as you think."

"What's not simple about the abuse of power for personal gain?"

"When the gain is also the protection of the city's interests—"

"So you're really okay with all of it?" she said, eyes blazing in frustration. "I thought you'd be different, seeing as you weren't born in this dystopia."

Soul lifted his hand from the piano's frame as if it had bitten him and tugged at his lapels again.

"Sometimes we have to make a difference one person at a time before we can make a lasting change."

Maka stepped toward him and Soul stiffened.

"And sometimes one person can make a big change. That's what I'm doing."

"By trying to frame your father?"

She was silent, and as Soul stared down into her bright eyes he realized – she wasn't trying to escape. She didn't even seem nervous.

"No... That was only part of your plan. You...you wanted to be caught," he said, his brow rising.

Maka held his gaze, but he watched her breath still.

"That's it..." Soul's grin returned, his white teeth shining especially bright in the moonlight. "By leaving the crystal scythes as a message, you put suspicion on your father, and the public and media scrutiny falls to him. But if that doesn't work and the mayor shuts it down, you being caught gives you a platform. Because the daughter of the police chief stealing from the mayor would be the biggest news story of the year!"

Maka continued to stare, almost statuesque with her expression frozen and her pupils contracted. Soul could feel the tension in the room like a chord suspended.

"And if your plan fails?" he finally asked with a grin.

"It won't," Maka said defiantly.

Soul chuckled, and Maka's eyes narrowed.

"You forgot about the wild card in the deck..." Soul said as he straightened his posture. "What if I let you go?"

He watched Maka's eyes widen in genuine shock. She clearly hadn't expected any other outcome.

"You..! But..."

"I don't have to tell anyone I found you here tonight. I can let you walk away, keep on committing the robberies. While I draw this investigation out for years."

The change in the young woman was evident even under the moonlight. Her cheeks had begun to redden, her shoulders stiffen. No longer was she brave in the face of her chosen fate, but starting to panic. However no sooner had Soul processed this than she had quickly reached into her purse. His instincts registered weapon and had him moving before he saw what she wielded. He dodged to the left as something heavy came down on the closed lid of the piano, and as she turned to follow through he grabbed her wrists, hard.

"A...book!?"

A large book was held steadily in one of Maka Albarn's hands as she glared daggers up at him, her teeth bared in anger.

"Pig!" she said, her voice breaking the whisper she'd kept it at throughout their conversation.

She tried to wrench free, but Soul stepped closer and pulled up her arms, limiting her movement.

"You didn't let me finish," Soul said, momentarily breathless for the surprise. "I could...let you go. And then give you a hand."

Maka's lips parted. She blinked up at Soul in shock, and the tension gradually began to leave her arms. Soul released his grip on her wrists and they both took a step back, putting a more comfortable space between them.

Soul reached up to straighten out his jacket. "Sorry to hear about the divorce, by the way."

Maka's hand lifted faster than he could blink.

"Ow!" Soul exclaimed as the spine of the book came down on his head.

"Pigs, all you men."

"Would you cease and desist already?" he said, this time snatching the book out of her hand and pushing it across the piano lid out of reach. "Now listen and think about this. With a partner on the inside, you can gather the kind of evidence that will actually help you when you go to the press."

Maka stared, and Soul watched emotions play across her face in rapid succession, the most readable of which was suspicion. Soul simply waited, and when she finally spoke her voice lacked the razor edge of judgment it had previously held.

"You'd betray them?"

"We all want the same thing in the end, don't we? Just to live in a safe and happy society. I think of it as...helping them work toward their goals in a more progressive way."

Maka crossed her arms and continued to look at him appraisingly.

"After all... I became a detective in the first place to make a difference, Miss Al—... Maka."

Maka raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Soul only grinned and stuck out his hand.

Maka shifted her stance, keeping her arms firmly crossed. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Soul considered. "I guess you don't. But...let me give you a chance at least, to see who I am."

He kept his hand extended as Maka studied him. He turned his head slightly to bring his face out of shadow, the moonlight spilling between them.

"I could be your scythe."

A tiny, pensive smile formed on her lips. And as she slowly reached out her hand to shake his, he couldn't help but notice again how lovely she was. His own smile grew.

"You've got a deal, Detective Evans."

Soul chuckled again. "Then...may I have the next dance?"

"What?" Maka said with a slight start, pulling back her hand.

"The night is still young," Soul said, gesturing toward the door that would lead back to the ballroom, the soft sounds of slow jazz filling the room as silence fell.

Maka brushed a pigtail back over her shoulder as a light slowly filled her eyes that outshone the moon. And when Soul offered his arm, she took it.

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #maka albarn #soul evans #soul eater evans #soma #soul x maka #maka x soul

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madwomanwithawarehouse · 1 year ago

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#girl meets world #gmw #community #vmars #veronica mars #psych #ted lasso #doctor who #leverage #phineas and ferb #polls

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serenelystrange · 18 days ago

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Ah yes, the one time of year I put on my “Leverage fic writing playlist.”

It sets the vibe, lol.

#Leverage #leverage redemption #secret Santa fic time lol

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zoozki · 1 year ago

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Bruh imagine a One Piece had a version of Santa that turns Bad Kids into Presents for the Good Kids. Although in truth Santa has been working as a slave by the Navy in order to quelm rioting and uprising among the rising Pirate Nations as the Straw Hat Pirates Sail towards finding the One Piece while saving towns and islands from corruption of the Evils in this world's Government's Agenda. In secret the Navy kidnapped and is holding Mrs. Clause and their 9001 Elves as leverage over Santa as they force fed him the Conversari-Conversari Fruit because Santa doesn't like Cold Fruits he loves Hot Fresh Cookies The only way to lure him out is a plate of cookies cooked in a forest Fire the size of Pompeii and a cold glass of Milk as tall as the Eiffel Tower that was chilled in the Artic Sea. After defeating Santa Luffy and his Crew discover Santa was used by the Navy so they set sail to the north Artic to rescue the Jingle Nation's Citizens where they find The Man behind it all an Admiral Called Grinch Sourmilk. He has The Power of the Wrap-Wrap fruit and his power to encase in anything he touches slowly overtime with Enhanced Haki Tape and Prism Stone Lined Navy themed wrapping paper. The reason he volunteered to overwatch the The Jingle Nation was because he always hated Christmas because 27 years ago one cold Christmas morning he had nothing to eat but snow and salt and never had presents until one day he was recruited by a Navy Officer to work as a Janitor on his ship after the Crew had recently got attacked at sea by sea monster fish half of the crew quit or had never survived the journey. He was told by the Navy Official if he ever wanted to leave his impoverished lifestyle and to be able to never look back again he must leave this small port town at the break of dawn tomorrow. 17 year old Grinch had felt like after hitting rock bottom he's finally moving up in the world and sneaked upon the vessel at sunset the very same day and even stole a uniform from one of the fallen recruits that perished at sea and in the right hand pocket was a small fruit unbeknownst to Grinch that it was a devil fruit as his stomach growled violently as his fingers traced the outer skin of the plumpy red fruit and chomped on it without a second thought to who could be watching him grave robbing. Unfortunately due to the power of the Wrap-Wrap fruit any presents Grinch gets for his Birthdays or Christmases ends up getting wrapped again along with the person giving him the gift. A miserable experience for Grinch as he never has been able to open any gift he's ever received also the person that gave Grinch the gift is also to be wrapped in the Stone Prism Lined Paper alive leaving them to suffocate and die. The families of these victims are horrified each and every year their kin are returned to them and left at the front doorstep as a deceased Bow Wrapped Navy themed corpse with the paper slightly damp with tears of fear and pain. Grinch doesn't have any enemies or at least not for very long because he fights dirty always going for the weak first and attacks members of the victim's family without warning. No one is brave enough to stand against him. His peers revere him as a god because he keeps an iron fist in shutting down pirate crews before they even make headlines on the local town newspapers but Grinch hates them because he hates being stared at when in public because he gets this weird feeling he's gonna be asked something but they never say a word and just stand and stare making things awkward as it wastes his precious spare time. He enjoys anything he can drink through a straw and hates anything he has to touch with his hand to eat because he ends up just magically wrapping it in paper instead unable to control his powers. He wears regular wool gloves and sunglasses even when he sleeps!

#one piece #Santa #Christmas #fanfic #story #straw hat pirates #luffy #elves #pompeii #eiffel tower #artic #jingle #presents #cookies

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