#nerdy writer's notes

[regallibellbright]

Today in “apparently this crappy show will haunt me forever,” I mentioned the jukebox musical we did for my high school freshman year, Back To The Eighties, while talking to someone. Including bringing up the Star Wars dream sequence set to the theme from The Greatest American Hero - and no, I have no idea why they chose an entirely different property’s theme song for a Star Wars dream sequence. Even if they couldn’t get the rights you’d think they’d have chosen something that wasn’t a theme song? Anyway.

On the way home, what comes up on the radio but Believe It Or Not, theme song from The Greatest American Hero. My mom and I find this very funny and sing along because how can you not, and keep singing even as we enter a tunnel and the signal cuts out. I time the instrumental break in my head and continue. My mom can’t keep track of it and wonders out loud as we finish the song what part it’ll be at when we get out of the tunnel, shortly before we do.

Me: I know I go fast in my head but I remember how long the lightsaber fight is, we’ll probably be at the very end or the very start of the next song.

We exit the tunnel on the very last notes of Believe It Or Not. I was in this show fifteen years ago and wasn’t even in this number. Score one for Regalli’s musical memory, I guess.

[reservoirreputation]

'Ashtray' extras

Notes and behind-the-scenes stuff for my ResDogs fic of the same name

[] indicates current author's notes

This nearly 15k, four chapter fic started off as a one-shot, btw.

-self-indulgent bottle fic:

setting: a northern state, deep in the winter, on the cusp of a snow storm

the players: cop!Freddy, criminal!Larry

the setup: Freddy and Larry cross paths, and have to work together to survive a snowstorm that cuts them off from the rest of civilization.

the setup, continued: Freddy was trying to apprehend Larry for one reason or another, when they get into an accident; Freddy’s right ankle gets messed up (twisted, sprained, broken, etc) and now he can’t walk/drive safely. Getting Larry to do it is out of the question because of the weather conditions, let alone their standings as cop and crook. The two take shelter at an abandoned home/hotel, and Freddy, a recent transfer from SoCal, is not doing well. It’s now up to Larry, who may or may not be a local, but he certainly has experience with these kinds of winters, to keep them both alive.

potential end: After seemingly getting better, Freddy’s foot gets worse, and the roads clear up just enough for Larry to get him to the nearest hospital. But, they’ve spent so much time together, bonded, fallen for each other, that Freddy begs Larry not to leave him. Larry, though he believes Freddy won’t turn him in, not at this point, can’t trust that someone won’t get suspicious upon seeing him with a cop that went missing for days/weeks. He goes away to let things cool off, which sends Freddy into a depression. He asks the doctors about where the guy who brought him in went, as no name was given, and they have no clue. An amputation surgery later, and Freddy’s in physical therapy, trying to pick up the pieces of his life and look forward to the future he now gets to have. A couple of weeks to a month later, Larry finds out where Freddy lives, and swings by his house, more than a little prepared for a verbal tongue-

lashing. Instead, he’s greeted with a relieved Freddy, who brings him in for a very unsteady hug.

what Larry got pinched for: perhaps he and Pink were on a job for Cabot. Just met, no alliances, or maybe they’ve worked together a handful of times? Either way, they get caught by Officer Newandyke, and despite Larry being really fit for his age, Pink’s still faster than most people, including Larry. Left holding the bag, Larry’s brought in, and that’s when the accident occurs. Maybe later, we catch up with Pink, who’s met up with Cabot, and after they don’t see any reports of Dimmick being caught, guess that he must’ve gotten caught in the storm. Being quite loyal, Joe sends out reinforcements.

why Larry sticks around: So far, he’s been arrested for theft. While not ideal, it’s not the worst thing to get pinched for. Possibly, Larry didn’t take any form of ID with him to this job, so that’s something that would only come out once they got to the station. Also to come out would be Larry’s association with Cabot. The idea of running crosses Larry’s mind, but the weather conditions make that perilous for him at his age, on his own. Not impossible, but still. Larry may think of what other people he knows would say to do, such as Vega, who would shrug and go, “Kill the pig”, which Larry won’t do because that would needlessly escalate things and make Joe look bad. Equally bad, letting Freddy die, even if he had the excuse of 1) saving himself 2) being unable to help, he’s no doctor, after all, the local cops won’t be as understanding. Really, as the situation worsens, Larry reckons this: he’s looking at jail time, regardless. Keeping a pig from freezing to death might make the judge go easy on him.

character background, Larry: Larry’s worked with the Cabots for decades. He’s a loyal man, and there’s one major benefit to working for the family, and that’s their flexibility. So, when Larry needs to head back home, Joe still hooks him up with jobs, and is considerate to how Larry really shouldn’t ‘shit where he eats’. Gives him low stakes or low risk jobs just far away enough from home base that Larry remains relatively safe. Larry left home in his early twenties for the same reason many young adults do; to get the fuck away from his parents. In Larry’s specific case, parent, as his Dad left before he was born and his Mom was emotionally abusive. He never saw her again when she was alive, only returning home when the estate needed to be settled. Sold the old place, further distanced himself from those bad memories, and fell back in love with his hometown. Perhaps one of the mother’s issues was addiction, painkillers. So, when Larry’s confronted with Freddy’s injury, he’s forced to, to some extent, sympathize with his mother, even if it’s just one facet of who she was. [honestly, only reason this parallel between Freddy/the mom and a deeper dive into Larry’s past is because I forgot]

potential B plot: what if both the Cabots and the local police are looking for Larry and Freddy, respectively? Have a moment where the latter’s hands are tied legally, told they can’t put other cops in danger just to find one, whereas Joe has the money and resources to send a search party for Larry, especially because he may still have the loot on him. A moment, even, of the two parties crossing paths, several days in.

character background, Freddy: Originally from California, LA at that, he was transferred to a Northern state, possibly Wisconsin. He may have been moved because of an incident at work; not corrupt cop shit, but maybe he got into a fight with a corrupt cop? Chief sided with the asshole/instigator, and Freddy got moved. Perhaps it’s his boss looking out for him, knowing that though Freddy’s in the right, the asshole has too many friends and connections at the station for it to be safe for Freddy to stay. 

The fight could be about several things coming to a head, from professionalism, to lack thereof, to one’s personal life, like the asshole cop fucking one of his coworkers while his wife’s at home, and bringing Freddy’s ‘preferences’ up when he’s called out on it. Maybe Freddy’s pissed because his only serious relationship ended with him being cheated on, and he doesn’t want to stand by as that happens to someone else, especially because he knows the wife and feels bad for her on a level of friendship. Maybe, rather than come out and admit his baggage, Freddy goes the logical route and says that ‘fucking your coworker will just make you messy in the field. If you wouldn’t bring your work home, why should you bring your personal life here?’ Something that Freddy would never dream of doing, since he tries very hard to not let on to his fellow officers that he’s queer. So, perhaps this asshole is a good cop, but a shitty person, and while he’s no psycho, he embodies a lot of toxic masculinity bullshit. Maybe even follow up, months later, that Freddy was right and things got super messy at work for the guy. [it was a last-minute decision, having Freddy find out first hand that the guy was cheating. I was reluctant to include it at first, but it overall fit the story really well, having Freddy try to hook up with him, nearly becoming ‘the other man’]

notes from phone: Pink and White were sent to steal from a place that was closed because of the inclement weather, such as a bank. Freddy was called in to check up on said bank.

addition to Freddy’s background: maybe he earns cash on the side as a security guard for a local bank, and would get paid overtime if he checked up on the place, as a motion detector had been set off.

potential beginning: Summer 1992: we open to an alley in the summer, someone trimming the weeds by their back gate. They trip over something, cursing; it’s a water access hole, and the lid’s been tampered with. Muttering under their breath about ‘it could kill somebody’ and ‘typical city sloppiness’ as they limp away. Cut to winter time, Freddy’s POV. 

Winter 1992: Freddy’s doing an after-hours favor for a sick coworker, checking out the bank whose alarm has gone off. It’s less expected that someone’s broken in, and more about worries of the roof caving in from the excess amounts of snow. One-man job, in and out, having reset the alarm and recorded any damages. Surprise-surprise, the place is actually being burgled. While in the car, we get a combo of the police scanner and the local weather channel on a portable radio, something most of Freddy’s peers do. This is how we get exposition on the weather, Freddy’s newness to the area and snow in general, and even references to some of his current and former coworkers. We end his section with meeting White.

Larry’s POV: Maybe back it up a few moments; one minute he and Pink are working at the main safe, an entire room behind several layers of security, Pink a former employee, the next Pink’s run off, leaving White to hold the literal bag. Cut to White, handcuffed, shoved into the back of the squad car. They begin driving, mostly in silence, until the car starts to stall. The cop pulls over, nearby an alley, and starts to think. Battery is dying, and the walkie isn’t working. The cop has one of the cellphones that might as well be a brick, and can’t get a signal. “You local?” “I don’t have to say anything” or ‘silence’. “Because I’m not, and I have no clue what the weather does to these cars. What should I do?” Cut to both standing in front of the open hood, White still tied up, peering in. He spots easily that the battery got too cold, possibly needs to be jumpstarted. Have to find someone that is around and willing to help. Thing is, the area’s been mostly abandoned, with only essential personnel/first responders lingering. White knows the area a bit, suggests taking a shortcut down the alley, because an auto shop should be nearby, and they can steal a car battery. The cop gives him a dirty look, and White reframes it, “we can ‘borrow’ one, how about that?” As they start to march forward, because the cop doesn’t know what he’s looking for, and thinks it cruel to leave the crook in an unheated car for who knows how long, and this way they both can work up a sweat, they start down the alley, sticking to where the grass would normally grow, as to avoid ice patches. Suddenly, the cop trips, and with one hand on White, brings him down with him. White is pissed, about to make fun of this out-of-towner, when he sees the cop is in the ground. Hauling himself up, wincing in pain, the cop yelps when he tries to stand on his right foot; he’s scraped up and rolled his ankle when his foot fell through a layer of snow and grass, into a partially uncovered water main.

Next scene, Freddy’s POV: the two enter the nearby house, with its ‘For Sale: SOLD’ sign semi-obscured, but legible. Some furniture, mostly things too big/cumbersome for a move. There’s a bedframe, but no mattress. Some dishes, no food, a fireplace with no fuel. The crook drops Freddy off, propped up next to the bedframe, and promises to come back with supplies. Freddy braces himself to be left alone, and for the newly-freed criminal to ditch him, and that it was a better alternative to getting killed. Does it sting, because it feels like getting kicked while he’s down? Yeah. Now, rather than a quick death of the guy just shooting Freddy, Freddy gonna have to do it himself, or hold out hope he won’t freeze to death. or starve. Or get an infection. He’s not even looked at his wound properly, yet. Really, the whole ‘am I going to die here?’ doesn’t start until Freddy lifts up his pant leg, and sees the condition of his ankle; The skin is more than broken, a bone poking through. Infection’s looking like a very real possibility. Feeling sorry for himself that he’s only in this position because he needed the money from an extra shift, Freddy starts to break down, only to bottle his feelings back up as the crook returns.

(A/N: outdated, but some elements still used)Larry’s POV: There’s this sense of tension, of someone quickly wiping away tears, not wanting to be seen, which he only recognizes from having to do the same, himself. This is the first time Larry sees the cop as damn-near a kid, feeling both pity and the urge to reassure. Regaining his icy exterior (easy since the cop gets onto Larry for stealing supplies, though it’s the difference between them living and freezing) Larry points out a better location for them to move to, but that the whole neighborhood’s without power. Is frustrated when the kid refuses to move, like an empty house is as far as he’s willing to take breaking and entering, when he sees the cop’s compound fracture. There’s no moving the guy. The cop, now knowing the severity of his wounds, gives Larry the keys to his squad car, telling him to grab whatever supplies he sees, namely the first aid kit in the trunk. Larry knows the car might as well be dead in the water, but it shows a remarkable amount of confidence, even trust, that Larry won’t just steal a new car battery, pop that in, and make off on his own. This is when Larry reminds himself, and the reader, that there’s too much connecting him to this cop, this arrest, and that theft may be bad, but manslaughter’s much, much worse. He comes back in with a bundle of emergency supplies, such as road flares, flashlight, snacks, reflective blanket, and the all-important first aid kit and portable radio, as well as some stuff he found in nearby homes; bottles of water, ready to eat food, supplies for a fire place. He goes out a third time for blankets, pillows, clothing such as socks, since both their pairs are soaking wet from the snow, but not before dressing the cop’s wound.

Cut to Pink’s POV, where he’s breathlessly filling Joe in about what happened, as a fresh batch of snow blankets everything, specifically obscuring the squad car from view. Not knowing this, Joe and Eddie spend the evening questioning contacts, waiting for news of Larry’s booking, only for there to be silence. The first assumption is that the weather has stopped them from ever reaching the police station, and the less likely, but more dangerous for Larry, option is considered only under extreme circumstances, that his arrest isn’t on the record because he’s cut a deal, and is telling the cops everything he knows. Now, the crew does consider that, if the cops got Larry to turn on them, that they would book him anyway to keep up appearances. But, people are panicking, and reason doesn’t come to mind, as easily. It’s decided to send out a search party, along with off-duty roadcrews that are on the payroll, to start seeing if Larry, and potentially the cop as well, are trapped. End chapter one. [This last sentence? Right here? Is when I knew I was fucked]

Chapter two: we actually start at the end of night one, as Freddy and Larry are confronted with the inevitable; it’s cold as hell, they only have so many blankets, and sharing body heat is so much more efficient. Freddy’s POV, as he’s vulnerable on multiple fronts; a cop relying on a criminal to help him, and not kill him in his sleep, vulnerable because of his injury and afraid of freezing to death, and vulnerable because he’s queer, and has never slept next to someone in his adult life that he didn’t previously fuck. He thinks vaguely how it would be his luck that being gay would be the final straw for this thief, the thing to push him over the edge and smother Freddy, so Freddy just tries repressing all potential thoughts as hard as he can.

A switch to Larry’s POV, and efforts to ‘no homo’ have failed, resulting in cuddling. But, hey, at least he’s warm, though confused. He gets up, grabs them both a light breakfast, and then takes a look outside- -where everything’s covered in a thick blanket of snow. He can’t even tell where the lawn ends and the street begins. No other cars in sight, he tries to trek towards the previously mentioned auto shop, once more, hoping for more time to look around for a car battery, having to cut time short the night before to get essential supplies for the night. He’s SoL, but tries to make the trip mean something, grabbing more things, even if just for the sake of comfort. Catches himself wondering what would cheer the cop up, attempts to banish the thought.

Worldbuilding note: perhaps the majority of the neighborhood’s abandoned because it’s in the middle of being gentrified. Some houses have been sold, these ones are empty, and others have been condemned, this is where Larry finds the majority of supplies.

Freddy’s POV: the crook gets back, gives the not-so-great news, but has plenty of treats/meds. Redressing of the wound, gives Freddy some pills for his fever. His ankle’s gross-looking, a little swollen, but the bleeding’s stopped, for the most part. There’s not many clean clothes, so Freddy goes through most of the gauze and padding pretty quickly. Getting more supplies is once again the crook’s priority, to which Freddy holds him back and insists that he also take care of himself; burning the candle at both ends will just get them both killed. Freddy knows at this point that the crook’s just doing all of this to not be hooked for murder, and to maybe get a lighter sentence, overall, but it’s still the best Freddy’s been treated in years, and he’s already very emotionally attached to some guy he doesn’t even know the name of. He starts to feel more and more like a burden, and the very real threat that Freddy will get the two of them killed weighs heavily on his mind. The older man can at least walk, he’d probably survive a trip further into town. Freddy’s job is to protect the public, after all; what sense would it make for him to get anyone dead, even a criminal? It’s not like the guy was violent, and even seemed to go out of his way to not have a confrontation. But, the nature of their stalemate is made all the more clear, to both parties, now; Larry can’t leave without making things worse for himself. They can’t stay together without risking them both freezing to death. The tragedy of Larry’s awful choice, and the tragedy of Freddy’s lack of one. How this crook is selfless for sticking around to help Freddy, and Freddy’s the coward who doesn’t want to die alone.

PD’s POV: the other cops have finally taken notice to Freddy’s absence, mostly in the form of the bank he was checking on the property of calling once more, wanting him to go back, unable to currently get in touch. It was supposed to be Freddy’s day off, and he’s not social at the station, explaining why none of his peers noticed a thing amiss. They try sending someone out, but can’t really spare the manpower; accidents on the highway, mostly from snow/black ice, take precedence. He’s just one cop, not hated nor liked, and there’s just not that much motivation to find him. Possible dialogue, really leaning into a black comedy sense of humor, “Anyone feel like there’s something… off?” “Nope- Nah- Not me.” Gets phone call  “Hey, anybody see Newandyke come in, today?” snickering “Dyke who?” annoyed stares “That beach bum should be off today, why?” “That bank in the shit part of town wants him” “He moonlighting as security?” “Dunno.” pause “Someone wanna call him?” Has to ask the chief for the guy’s contact info because no one knows much about him *Hey, you think he got caught in that storm?” Everyone laughs “Serves that LA boy right” Eventually, a couple of cops try to look for him on their spare time.

Chapter three: Freddy wakes up, his fever much worse. Things are getting pretty dire, and the crook tries lifting his spirits by telling Freddy of happier times. They end up learning more about each other in a day, three days really, than they know of anyone else in either of their lives, period. But the bubble bursts as Larry hears a car outside, slowly crunching through the snow. He promises to return, giving an excited, impromptu kiss to Freddy’s forehead. We leave with Freddy having this sinking feeling that Larry may not be coming back.

Larry waves down the car, and is shocked to see that the all-terrain, off-road vehicle contains none other than his fellow criminals- including Pink. He thinks back desperately as to the likelihood of Pink seeing the cop who arrested Larry, and holds his tongue as he’s bombarded with questions, “Where have you been?” “Did you get away?” “Lose the pig?” and all that Larry can reply with is, “I’ve been sheltering in place, because of the storm.” “Well, no shit!” “Come on in, man, the car’s nice and toasty.” “I can’t.” “What do you mean ‘can’t’?” “I got away, and came across this guy- he’s hurt real bad. I’ve been looking out for him.” a look is exchanged between the group, maybe even with Eddie present, “Civilian?” “I know nothing about him.” “Hospital-bad?” “Compound fracture.” more silence, with Eddie relenting, “Blindfold him. He keeps his mouth shut, and the rest of us say nothing. If something really needs to be said, write it down.” and with that, Larry goes back inside to collect Freddy, telling him of the arrangement. They’ve long since ditched Freddy’s wet, soiled police uniform, and his two-day old beard may be thin, but it’s better than nothing. Elects to put an entire bag on Freddy’s head, to reduce the chances of Pink recognizing him. They head out. Freddy spends the whole ride with his head on Larry’s shoulder, with the other occupants shooting Larry a questionable look. As they pull up outside of the hospital, Eddie motions for Pink to start walking Freddy to the door, as he has a word with Larry, “What’s wrong with you? You’re always taking in stray animals.” “The man needed help, what the hell are you on about?” “Daddy’s right, you’ve got a bleeding heart.” Larry catches up with Pink and Freddy, taking over for the crook.

Freddy can tell when it’s Larry at his arm again, posture relaxing and he gives a smile that the recipient cannot see. Before they come into view of the front of the hospital, and out of sight of Eddie’s car, Larry takes the bag off, pocketing it. Freddy continues to smile, and Larry looks so confused. They head inside, Larry passing Freddy of to an orderly as he begins filling out paperwork. Larry tells them everything he can, because now that Freddy’s in safer hands, he all but passes out. As Larry’s not next-of-kin, he can’t stay, He locks eyes with Freddy one more time, watching as the kid’s face falls, realizing they didn’t get a proper goodbye. Larry leaves.

Chapter Four: A time jump of about a week. Larry is summoned into Joe’s office, as Larry is asked if there’s any connection between the guy he so generously helped, and the missing cop that just so happened to turn up at the same hospital the ‘poor, wounded puppy’ was left off at. Larry says it doesn’t matter, several people can confirm that the guy only saw Larry’s face, and that everyone else should be safe. Joe shakes his head, saying that Larry can leave on good terms, but that he’s too much of a liability, now. He’s effectively fired. Joe keeps his word he won’t be holding a grudge, and that Larry won’t have to look over his shoulder. Larry wishes he could believe that.

Freddy’s finally sent home, bag in hand. The chief visits him, apologizes for not sending help out, sooner. Freddy waves him off, absolving his soon to be former boss of any and all guilt. The chief promises to grant him a generous severance package, enough to keep Freddy afloat until he can get more work, promises to provide a glowing reference when the time comes. Freddy’s not sure what he’s going to do, yet, but appreciates the gesture, anyway. When he’s left alone, again, his thoughts return to Larry, and his heart breaks. He cries for not being able to see Larry again, not just the person who saved him from dying several different ways, not just as the person who set aside their own interests for Freddy’s survival, but because Larry was the only person in Freddy’s life to show him care, kindness, affection. The way Freddy lived was bearable before, only because he never knew what he was missing. To know how good it can be, and to have lost it, hurts worse than anything.

Jump to another week, and Freddy’s holding his own. He’s adjusted to his cane pretty well, has rearranged things in his house to make it more handicap-friendly, and has successfully kept up with his chores, though the learning curve is a bitch. There’s a knock at his door, and it takes him a minute to make his way over. Peering through the peephole, Freddy can’t get the door open fast enough, bringing Larry in for a breathless hug. Without getting out so much as a ‘Hi’, Larry returns it, fully taking on Freddy’s weight as the other lifts his cane off of the ground to fully wrap both arms around Larry. After a few seconds, the hug goes from crushing and desperate to something much softer, sentimental. When they pull apart, and Freddy stumbles a little, it’s the first time Larry notices that Freddy’s foot had been amputated.

Potential final scene: we fast-forward to the next spring, so Spring 1993, and a city worker is finally responding to the complaint about the water main lid. They vaguely think about how this order has been sitting on their desk for the better part of a year, buried under more pressing tasks. They think, as well, about how lucky they are to get here and take care of it before anyone got hurt, they’ve heard of stories, after all, of people breaking their necks on these things.

[januaryembrs]

Hi!! Could I please order a spicy hot chocolate for Spencer Reid? (Like you know, the ones that people put cayenne pepper in?!)

You’re an incredible writer and human!

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND | Spencer Reid x Reader

description: your brother brings home his dorky college classmate, Spencer

length: 2.5k

warnings: spicy, SMUT (omg Em attempts smut and even then its pretty tame but why are my hands shaking), minors dni! heed my warnings this is not for you minors!! nipple stuff, mens genitalia mentioned, Spencer and reader get horny for one another oop. I really hope this is okay I've literally written smut once and even then I second guessed myself so much. SEASON ONE GLASSES SPENCE. BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND SPENCE. smut under the cut.

You felt eyes on you without even having to turn where you were stuffing laundry into the washing machine, your face sweaty with the midsummer heat. 

“Jesus Christ, you look like Hot Topic threw up on you,” Your brother’s voice resounded as two sets of footsteps entered the kitchen, and someone cleared their throat where you were bent over, denim shorts riding high up your ass cheeks. 

Flicking a look over your shoulder, you pulled the spoon full of peanut butter out of your mouth, yanking a headphone out of your ear to address him. 

“Don’t shit your pants, dickbrains, it’s all I have until my clothes are clean,” You snapped at Ryan, tongue dancing with the creamy, sweet spread, and your eyes dropped to his left where his best friend fussed over his sweater cuffs, a duffel bag on his back, and your eyes softened as you saw Spencer looking flushed in your kitchen, “Hi, Spence,” 

“Hi,” He peeped shyly, and you smiled widely at the obscenely tall boy who had been to your house a number of times. Ryan had met Spencer on the first day of college, or at least his first day. For Spencer, it had been six years already, his third doctorate well underway, and the two had quickly bonded over something dumb and nerdy you’d never bothered to take note of. You clicked the dials on the machine to a low setting, pouring some detergent into the drum and pressing the ‘Start’ button.

“You guys doing homework?” You asked, fixing where your shirt slouched off the side of your shoulder, exposing your lack of bra and baring your collar bones, and you were quick to catch the way Spencer’s hazel hues fell there with something fleeting and guilty in his expression. 

“We’re not twelve years old calculating how many watermelons Sally and Jess have all together,” Your brother scoffed, screwing his lips in annoyance, just as much as any twenty year old pumped full of hormones and energy drinks. “We’re writing a paper on thermodynamics; Spencer’s staying over tonight,”

Rolling your eyes at his know it all snark, you pulled a face back at him, despite the fact you were one year older. You looked to his left where Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets, his cheeks pink as he caught himself like a fly in honey in one of your usual arguments. 

“Do you want a drink, Spence?” You offer, ignoring Ryan’s shitty attitude, heading over to the fridge and swinging the door open, your fathers bottles of beer clinking together where they lay flat on the top shelf. 

“Soda would be great, please,” Spencer murmured, trying not to stare as you leaned over, those little, black hot pants skirting up so far his face felt feverish and he forced himself to look at the linoleum tiles in a scrambled attempt to control his thoughts. 

He felt like a kid again, with a stupid little crush on the older girl who batted her lashes and called him Spence and smiled at him like you knew exactly how you made that big brain of his turn to mush when you spoke to him. 

Handing him a Coke, he tried to ignore the way your cold fingers brushed and avoided your gaze at all cost.

“Thankyou,” He said, his voice cracking in the very middle of it in a way that made him feel like a total loser, and he heard you giggle, his neck growing a prickling hot. 

Before you could say much else, his friend grabbed his sleeve, tugging him in the direction of his room where you couldn’t bother them anymore. 

Spencer was thinking about your laugh the entire afternoon, until they gave up writing and turned to watching Star Trek, the evening air quickly turning humid and dark, and he begged the tightness in his boxers to leave him be for even just a second.

Only, he found no such luck, tortured by the thought of you being just a single flight of stairs away from him. 

–

You were doing dishes by the time you heard him again. Assuming it was Ryan, you made no effort to greet him since it usually was only responded with a grunt or cuss anyways. 

Except you could tell by the footsteps that were too careful, the presence that was too soft, even by the way he cleared his throat nervously, that it certainly wasn’t your obnoxious brother who had come into the kitchen for a midnight snack. 

Whirling around at the sound, Spencer stood on the other side of the dining table you'd been sitting at just a few hours ago eating pasta and listening to your mom recounting her stressful day in the office. Thin, framed glasses perched on his nose, ones you’d never seen before, glinting in the light from the oven as he blinked at you behind the lenses. 

“Spence,” You said with a tired smile, eyes dropping to his shirt and plaid trousers, “Cute jammies,” 

He paused for a second, looking down to the grey Doctor Who set, a diagram of the TARDIS splayed across his chest, and he blanked when he tried to figure out if you were kidding or being genuine, “Thank you. You too,”

He didn’t know why he’d said it, maybe because that’s just what you do when someone is being kind, except only then did he look at what you were wearing, and impossibly so it was even more scandalous than what you were wearing earlier. 

A tank top, if he could even call it that with how far it rode up, and a lacy pair of blush underwear, a pretty white bow resting just below your belly button. 

Following his gaze as it devoured your exposed appendage, you grinned at him devilishly, “Sorry, it gets pretty hot in my room at night,” 

“Y-yeah I can imagine you-you’re hot,” He stammered, realising what he said when you raised a brow at him, “B-because you’re a floor up, I mean, and heat rises because hot air has a lower particle density than cool air although some physicians believe-”

“I know what you meant, Spence,” You said with a smirk, moving around the table to stand in front of him, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Looking up at him with a tilted head, you inspected the frames you realised were a mahogany brown now you were close enough to see them properly, you peered past the lenses and right into where his doe eyes stared back at you, skittish and flustered, “Are these new?” 

Spencer licked his lips nervously, “I used to wear glasses when I was a kid but now I wear contacts,” He said, rubbing clammy palms over his trousers. He could smell your detergent from here, the same one he’d seen you pour over your laundry just a few hours earlier, ‘Blossom breeze’ or something girly and sweet and floral like that. He didn’t know the brand, but it was entirely intoxicating, except he suspected it had nothing to do with the liquid and more to do with the fact he could see your nipples pressing against your shirt when you stood so close to him, “Girls don’t really think scrawny guys in glasses are.. hot,” 

You sniggered, though your brows furrowed the slightest bit, “Who told you that?” 

“Lot’s of girls, more than once actually, it’s just kind of common knowledge,” He fumbled, his chest pricking with nerves when your fingers moved up to grip his waist gently, thumbs danced down his hip bones, the gentle touch alone stirring his cock into a painfully hard stance. He gulped, the sound loud in the sombre twilight of the kitchen, and for a guy who had aced every single test he’d ever taken, who played chess against himself for fun to guess his next five moves, Spencer had no clue where he existed outside of your body so close to his, looking at him like he was a puppy begging for treats if he gave paw. 

“I think those girls are absolute boneheads if they can’t see how pretty you are, Spence,” You said his name as if it was the only one that had ever mattered, and he couldn’t help how his chest swelled at the sentiment, even if he wasn’t so off guard as to actually believe that. You’d always had this way of making people feel special, he saw it at your family barbecue last Summer, when your cousins flocked around you like you were their Queen Bee, how you seemed to make waiters and waitresses alike flush under your preening smiles and 'please's and 'thankyou's whenever you took Spencer and your brother out for dinner. 

“T-thankyou,” He replied after a thick breath, his chest rattling as you pulled him towards your calm figure, and he let himself be guided like he were leashed, “Y-you’re pretty too,”

He wanted to tell you so much more than that, that you were beautiful like all the popular girls at school were, only humble and kind like the golden part of you glittered inside too, except before he could even attempt at expanding on his three pathetic little words he’d stammered through laboured breaths, he effectively got fully disconnected from his brain when you leaned in towards his face and brushed your nose against his, testing the waters. 

Your gaze trailed up to his innocently, so close he could feel your minty breaths fanning over his bottom lip, and he guessed you’d already brushed your teeth ready for bed. 

“You really think I’m pretty, Spence?” You asked naively, even if he knew it was just because he forgot how to speak when you were too forward, as if you were trying not to spook a deer. He nodded quickly, his eyes zeroing on where your mouth was mere centimetres away from him, one single shiver in his spine and he would be kissing you, and like you’d heard his train of thought, you pushed your lips against his softly, his body jolting with an electric shock. 

There could be sirens surrounding the entire house and he would be none the wiser, because in mere seconds his blood was rushing through his eardrums, sounding like radio static, and it was only when he felt the vibration of it against his mouth did he realise you’d whined, and his hands sprung to life, cupping both your cheeks and tugging you closer to his face as if he was clinging onto every second of the feeling. 

Spencer groaned, a sound he didn’t even realise he was going to make until he felt your fingers squeeze him lightly, and he snapped back into his body like a hair tie slinging him back into a world where the girl he’d had a teeny, tiny, maddening crush on for months was making out with him in her kitchen. 

“‘Gotta be quiet, baby, my parents are asleep,” You said, breathless as you ripped yourself away from him, despite the fact he was insistently pulling you back towards his mouth, and you smiled up at his urgency, “You ever kissed a girl before, Spence?”  

He sighed, and you’d never counted him as sassy until you heard it, almost spoiled and bratty now you’d given him a taste of heaven and held it back from him for the sake of small talk.

“Once, at recess in fifth grade, but it wasn’t like this,” He said, yanking you back towards him ravenously, and you let him devour your lips again, grinning into his desperate mouth, “Never been like this,” 

You weren’t sure whether he meant himself or what was likely a peck on the lips between kids as a dare, but you didn’t think too hard about it, as you slotted yourself back into his rough hands, calluses on the insides of his right fingertips from the years holding a pen so hard he might just break it. He felt your mouth open, and he followed your lead, your tongue feathering out with a shyness you showed nowhere else. And it was like every single statistic and number and fact about sharing saliva flew out of his head with wanton need as he dove right for the source, the tip of his tongue meeting yours with a warm nudge and he heard you mewl in pleasure. 

Spencer didn’t know what had come over him. Only moments ago he’d been too nervous to even look at you in fear of stumbled around a few syllables and calling them words. Yet here he was, his glasses slipping down his nose and pressing against the bridge of your own, your chest pressed so close to him he could feel your nipples pebbling against his TARDIS shirt, and it was like it was then he remembered you had no bottoms on except your panties. 

He hooked a hand underneath one of your legs, hiking it up to his waist and pushing even further up against you, the sudden movement making you gasp, your lower back hitting the dining table as his pubic bone ground against the ball of nerves that had been aching since you caught him shuffling around your kitchen in his damn Doctor Who pyjamas. 

Sliding his broad fingers up, your skin spread into gooseflesh and it was your turn to become putty under his touch as he bravely grabbed a handful of your arse, though his touch was still light and uncertain if he was crossing any boundaries. The change in position meant you felt yourself leaning back, your spine spreading out like a cat in warm sunlight, and he was quick to accommodate you, ever eager to please as Spencer was, moving away from the warmth of your mouth and kissing his way down to your pulse, the feeling of it making both of you hum on quietened tones in pleasure. 

“Why have we never done this before?” You asked breathlessly, your chest rising frantically as you gasped for air, a hushed moan bleeding into your airways. 

Spencer held you upright with one of his long arms, thought his mouth devoured a path over your collar bones, heading right for where your breasts lay in wait, and he didn’t even bother trying to remove your top as he kissed over your nipple with hungry, warm lips. 

“I dunno, probably because Ryan wouldn’t be too happy with me trying to fuck his sister while he’s eating dinner,” Spencer said without thinking, his tone sharp and witty as ever, like the noises you were making and the desperation in your touch seemed to rewire his thoughts into something overindulged. 

But you laughed, loud enough you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from waking up the whole house, because you had no idea how you’d explain to them why you and Spencer had ended up half sprawled on the dining table as he practically fixed himself onto every inch of you. And without warning he chuckled too, the vibration blowing over your skin that was already humming with excitement. 

“Do you think we could do this more often?” You asked, raising yourself up onto your elbows as his hands spread over your stomach, riding your top up just the smallest bit so he could kiss over your stomach, his pupils blown out into planets behind his glasses, his cheeks tinged raspberry red, his gaze drunken like he was in some sort of sugar rush only ready to stop when he’d gotten his fill, though at the rate he was going Spencer thought that day might not actually come. 

You were a drug, a nectar he’d never come close to, and he felt like every kiss to your skin only made that well in his stomach dig deeper and deeper, possibly never running dry as his every thought overflowed with drops of you, and your smell, and your taste, and your tongue. 

Missing your lips, he moved back up to your face, crashing his mouth back onto yours as your fingers raked through his hair, the sensation jolting his rod like appendage into you own pelvis, the two of you shivering with the feeling of it. 

“I think we can arrange that,” He murmured, and you grinned up at him devilishly as he fiddled with the cotton hem of your underwear nervously, his boldness wearing off as he saw that glint in your eyes that spelled trouble. But he understood that nervous and excitement felt so similar it was easy to mistake one for the other, perhaps even mesh both together at the same time, and the logical explanation for his clammy hands and racing heart seemed to soothe him the slightest bit. 

He loved sleepovers at your house.

[felassan]

Some notes from today's new BioWare Blog post, which contained some new character insights and also gave some information on what is coming next and when:

Creative Performance Director Ashley Barlow helped to cast and direct over a thousand conversations in the game

Lucanis is bloodthirsty, calculated, and a workaholic. He was raised with high expectations and fears disappointing those he loves. To him, being an assassin is his only job and identity to be excellent at. He's constantly attuning himself to the kind of shifting terrain of every mission. There's a lot of love between him and Illario

As Zach is a comedian, he would easily find the humor in anything Lucanis was saying

Neve is a Shadow Dragons rebel who cares deeply about helping people and never leaves work half-done. Epler: " [she is] the working class hero trying to make her hometown better"

Emmrich is sincere, friendly, scholarly, sophisticated, eager to teach and learn, a well-meaning but oblivious academic, with a "hot nerdiness". He assumes everyone has an academic's curiosity so can be pedantic on select topics

The Mourn Watch are revered in Nevarra but odd at best and evil at worst outside of it

Nick: "I love the fact that the writers took Emmerich and explored the whole idea of death and the whole idea of necromancing by bringing kindness into it. I really responded to that and got into that and I know it sounds crazy, but it’s to not have this idea that death is vulgar or something to be terrified about, but something to actually engage with on so many levels. I just love the fact that the writers had the courage to do that in a game like this."

"Often Nick is just playing off of someone making a sound, and he takes it and internalizes it and gives it meaning and care, which is amazing to watch."

The world has changed a lot since DA:I

Harding has been leading teams through the wilderness while covering friends in battle

Harding loves her mom. She loves to write letters home and is always talking about her mother. She likes plants and raising plants. She has grown and is a veteran now, a trusted voice at the table

Footage of the full DA:TV @ SDCC companions panel should be available in a couple of weeks

Next month there will be a new roadmap, more looks at the game, and the reveal of the release date

[emphasis mine]

And this paragraph:

"Dragon Age: The Veilguard sees players embark on a perilous quest to face powerful Elven gods and stop the apocalyptic destruction they’re unleashing. You’ll step into the role of Rook, battling on the front lines alongside a deep and compelling cast of companions who together comprise The Veilguard, a group of heroes who have come together to stop the veil from breaking and bringing about the end of the world. Rook must become the unexpected leader who can rally and unite the group. Throughout the game, you can explore the detailed storylines of each companion, navigating love, loss, and complex choices that influence your relationships."

[source]

[astermath]

second chance ₓₒ⋆:

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

word count: 4.8K (oops)

warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!

notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter​ @stevenose​ 

As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week. 

But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.

You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin. 

“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.

“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.

“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.

“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.

“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page. 

“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head. 

“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you. 

You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response. 

“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse. 

You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.

And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.

So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.

Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in. 

So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.

You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.

Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.

You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you. 

“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?” 

The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”

You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.

“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.

Steve motherfucking Harrington.

Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.

You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.

Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”

And then it clicked.

Steve had no clue who you were.

Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.

It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.

“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up. 

“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.

He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses. 

“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.

Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.

“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.

“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.

“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”

His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.

Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.

You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.

“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“

“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?

“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”

Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.

“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.

“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…

“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”

“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”

You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”

You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.

You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.

“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.

Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”

Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”

And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.

But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.

You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.

“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”

You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”

He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.

“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.

“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”

You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”

He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.

“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.” 

He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.

You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”

Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.

“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was. 

“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.

“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really. 

“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”

You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.

Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.

Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.

And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.

One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.

But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.

He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.

He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.

A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.

“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.

What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.

“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“

“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”

“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.

Yeah, you were growing fond of him. 

Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.

It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you. 

You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.

And he was well aware of this too.

So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”

You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.

He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.

“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.” 

You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.

“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.

“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.

They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.

That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.

The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.

“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.

“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.

“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?” 

You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”

He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier. 

“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.

He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless. And painfully in love. 

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! “sneaky link” reader.

synopsis: paige & you find a new hookup spot: your parents' house. what else do you find? that the chemistry never left after all - you just have to get paige in the right space - literally. warning(s): smut, strap 😬, paige eats it from da back, dirty talk / fluffy pretty much, degrading, choking, idk bro this is from memory i didn't read it so 🤷‍♀️ find out yourself word count: 4.1k (SHESSH) Author Note: the anticipated part 6 that took forever to write because of terrible writers' block. the creative spark just isn't there for this series anymore, so this alone will serve as the conclusion to the series, however — i do have a draft i'll release that can be regarded as a part 7. thanks tons for all the support on something i played around with and got hooked on! love u all sm ☺️❣️

Being at the family home of the girl Paige was casually involved with wasn't exactly how she pictured the UCONN long weekend off going. She and the team had planned a series of fun activities, and although your invitation completely disrupted those plans, she couldn't say no. "Hello? I… Team's awake, I'm in the washroom, be quick."

You chuckle softly. "So I guess that means now isn't a good time to tell you you're coming back home with me this weekend?" Paige sees her reflection and watches her resolve surface, anticipating that you're going to try to escalate things back into what they shouldn't be, breaking down the walls she has up.

She scoffs. "Y/N, you know we can't do that." "I won, Paige, fair and square. You said 'anything', you promised!" you insist, taking advantage of the fact that as a competitor, she'll honor her word. "Yeah, but don't you think it's a little bit intense for me to meet your family? I mean, I just don't want to overstep any boundaries," she stammers, uncertain. You glare at your phone, staring at the wavering voicebox of Paige. "You realize I'm doing this for you, right? How I always am? And because it's too hot to keep banging you in your car?" you say firmly. Finding new spots for clandestine rendezvous was proving increasingly challenging. At least with the constant change of locations, sneaking around, and adventure, you could pretend to yourself that you were going on the first date you knew Paige would never officially give you. And if she wasn't going to give you that first date, the least you could ask for was a comfortable bed. But you knew her, you knew her rules, and the only thing you had left was that victory over her head on the club Friday, so you wanted to use it.

It falls silent on her end. Paige doesn't want to talk about your sacrifices for this.

For you and her. For her. You want to tell Paige how it affects you to be nothing but a secret to her, especially now that she's afraid of her team's disapproval and seemingly everyone else's, meanwhile, you bust your ass, comply, and accommodate everything that being her confidante requires, but for the sake of your own feelings, you know you can't. She will leave you. She'd made that clear from the beginning. Paige's commitment issues and seemingly inability to have genuine emotions for a girl are frustrating, especially given her actions toward you. Perhaps back then, before she forgave your sins against her strict rules, took your virginity, and got to know you far beyond casual, you didn't care. But now, you knew her well enough to trust her around your family and you couldn't risk losing the only person in the world who just seemed to get you. None of your 'close' friends, who didn't care for a thing to do with you, deserved to be the one you chose. Even if she sometimes treated you like you were nothing, you knew the only person for you was her. And plus, your parents were nice people. She didn't have to worry about judgment like she always did — I mean for crying out loud they raised you, nerdy, quiet, and a loner up until this point of your life. Male or female, they'd be proud to see something good with the person they put out into the world.

"This isn't... meeting your family isn't 'anything,'" Paige countered, hushing after hearing footsteps pass the washroom door. "And plus, we have shit planned for this weekend. What do I tell th—" Team. You roll your eyes. The team left, the team right, the team all around. You cut her off. "You're visiting your Grandma."

And again, you win. Still, Paige sighs. "This isn't exactly fair for you to just spring on me, y'know? I've been so hyped for the plans this weekend and you just... you ruined them!" You can hear she's serious, her tone half angry yet delivered with a lightheartedness that doesn't ease the blow of her words. All you did was invite her to come home with you, supposedly 'ruining' her plans. You retort, "Ruining? Jeez, thanks, Paige." "Yeah!" she refutes, still trying to whisper. You giggle, then mutter provocatively, "Should've eaten my pussy better, loser," knowing it'll halt her momentum. You gloat, "Gosh, how do you fail at something as easy as that? Something you've been doing since you were 16!" The banter continues. "You'll change your mind on that soon," she predicts.

You chuckle confidently. "We'll see about that, peanut butter. Bags packed, 10 am sharp. Don't keep me waiting, loser," making your point clear.

You end the call with Paige and smirk to yourself, feeling a mix of anticipation and defiance. You can't believe how much of a rebel you've become, just as Paige can't—once so pristine when she first met you, she's corrupted you to the point of using your parents' place as a sneaky link spot. But with you guys left rendered optionless, Paige's next move was to fabricate a story about picking up her clothes if their shared app alerted her location. However, the plan was soiled with the early arrival of your new roommate, a freshman named Maggie, and you had no choice but to evacuate Connecticut altogether, returning to your place in the city just over; calmer, more serene, and familiar. You quickly text your parents: "Bringing a friend," before rushing off to pack. You'll try to keep them out of your hair as much as possible. It's only a 4-day stay, and they're both very schedule-oriented people, so you anticipate that you and Paige will have the house to yourselves mostly. Just as you're about to finish packing, you recall the strap and text Paige again, sending a picture of you holding it with the caption, "Bring??" She ignores your question about the strap and instead frets like she did the day you first showed it to her, as if she has a big performance the next day. She texts you back:

"Should I dress girly? Do I bring a gift? Are you sure they're okay with us?" She's overwhelmed with uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate this new territory, but you don't give her any tips because Paige needs to figure it out herself. You know it's how she's always rolled, relying on herself. You ignore her and continue, "Sooo, strap on or not? I'd love to try it out on you finally.☺️"

"Now especially no," she shoots back. Then she follows up, cryptically, "You're not the only one with surprises. Trust me. We won't need it." At that remark, you hop into bed eagerly and await sleep, yearning for the day to arrive faster. You stop thinking obsessively about why she won't let you use it on her, and it's the last thing on your mind before you doze off. At 9 AM, you're awake, welcoming your new roommate Maggie, and by 10, you're out and at Paige's dorm. She's waiting outside, readied. She doesn't know how to not dress like a tomboy, so she's awkwardly masculine, but now in pink, and the sight throws you off guard. You thought she'd figure her shit out better than that, and you laugh as you film her, to use it as blackmail in case she ever leaks the many pictures and videos she has of you (which you know she won't). When she climbs into the car after stowing her bag in the backseat, she grabs your wrists and uses her strong grip to hold them in one hand as she deletes the videos, uttering, "Think you're funny, huh, ma?" "No... I think you are," you chuckle, and Paige pushes you away playfully by the forehead. You tease her relentlessly, the amusement of your time with her just beginning and already infectious. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at your immaturity with a shy smile on her face. "I can't believe I agreed to this," she grumbles and you echo the words from last night, chortling, "You had no choice, remember, Paige Puckers?" a play on words at how she drunkenly, clumsily, and messily explored a tactic that, while it did get you off eventually, was hard to get the hang of at first. She smirks and you see the challenge in her eyes. "I'll make you eat those words, ma, just watch." As you guys veer off, Paige takes control of the music and begins shedding layers until she's left in just the pink flannel, a sports bra, and basketball shorts, feeling overheated. She's so absorbed in the music that when you arrive, she doesn't notice she's partially undressed until the door swings open to your parents, and she quickly tugs the flannel over her body tighter. She watches with a smile as you hug your mother warmly, while Paige stands back, observing. "And you must be the friend she spoke of!" your father extends his hand for a shake, and Paige reciprocates, resisting the urge to give him a fist bump, as that's all she knows. "Paige," she replies calmly, "It's nice to meet you, sir. And Ma'am," she nods to your mother afterward, who smiles before stepping aside. "Well, come on in, girls, this heat is stifling." You all sit down with a cold pitcher of iced tea after bringing your bags up to your room. As you settle at the kitchen island, your parents strike up a friendly conversation with Paige across from you.

You start to regret the whole situation when your mom and Paige hit it off too well, and your mom embarrasses you. "Y'know, it's about time I met a friend of hers, Paige. You're the first; she's never really had any," your mom remarks, and you feel yourself blush. "Mom!" you interject, embarrassed.

"No, no, let her. You've been teasing me all day, you deserve it," Paige chimes in with a chuckle, playfully slapping her knee. "So, I hear Paige plays basketball, Y/N. Seeing as she's never really been the athlete type, you know, more of a bookworm? How did you two meet?" she inquires. You grow hotter, not good for the warm weather. You can't tell your Mom & Dad that: "Hey Mom, I got hammered at a party for the first time, drunkenly approached Paige's friends, and ranted to them about how I would marry her, then made out with her in the bathroom before proceeding to let her fuck me within an inch of my life the following weekend." You were still their little, strange, friendless, and focused girl. "Things just clicked," Paige answers, PG'ing and summarizing the story. "She was just... looking like the life of the party, and I thought she looked fun, so I wanted to get to know her." "Did you find out that looks are deceiving?" your mom asks again, and Paige is genuinely and seriously laughing—not the "haha parent way," but actual laughter. When even your father chimes in and says, "I bet she forces you to practice Telekinesis and stuff like that, huh?" is when you truly decide you won't tolerate the bullying. "Cytokinesis, Dad," you correct as you get up. "And I study developmental biology now. That Bio for children." And besides, you didn't want Paige to get too close to them anyway—just close enough to exist in their house unbothered.

We're gonna go pick you girls up some dinner!" said your mom cheerfully. "We'd love you to join us."

Paige begins to say yes, but you interject, "Actually, we're gonna have a nap. The ride was exhausting." She doesn't budge, so enthralled with your parents that she isn't catching on until you have to gently pull her out of her chair, trailing off with her as she calls back to your mom who had asked, "Paige, what do you like?"

"Y'alls sense of humor!" she chuckles, because Paige just gets her (they enjoy teasing you together).

"Okay, girls, don't nap too hard!" jokes your dad, and before the door can even close, you're kissing Paige deeply in the upstairs corridor, trying to make her forget everything she'd been told. Napping is the last thing you'll be doing. Her hand comes to your chest, attempting to push you away, but you're resilient and hold her with determination as you back her into the doorframe of your bedroom. "Since when were you such a scaredy pants?" you tease as you strip off your clothes, not bothering to lock the door. "We've been walking around in public everywhere these days, and inside is when you get nervous?" Within seconds, before Paige even shuts the bedroom door behind her, you're naked against her, pressing your tits against hers firmly as you shower her with a barrage of kisses. "Gonna make me eat my words still?" you challenge her. Paige slowly realizes you weren't joking about just wanting a comfortable place to have sex with her, and that it was the primary purpose of her visit. She still can't shift gears because she'd been with your parents just a moment ago, and now you're in this intimate moment. So you help her.

"Because it looks like I'm making you eat yours." you smirk at her teasingly. Before you know it, you've pumped the gas so hard she has you turned over on all fours on the bed, back arched invitingly. She wastes no time with you, and despite your usual verbosity, the way you yield to her the moment her tongue delves into your cunt is undeniable. You press back into her face, enveloping her between your thighs and asscheeks, and Paige thinks if she's going to go, she wouldn't have it any other way. You whimper softly in pleasure, squirming as you press against her warm tongue, and Paige chuckles, the vibrations from the deep shrill causing you to jolt forward, feeling the hum pulsate through your pussy hauntingly. "Aw, shit, Paige, you get me so wet," you moan desperately, "You make me so crazy, fuck." The thrill of the moment is evident in her eyes, wide with desire as she gazes at you from above her. You look back at her below you, eyes lidded and mouth parted in an 'o', and you look pornographic. It's sick, really, to think how just moments ago she was conversing with your parents, and now, here she was, tounge enamored filthily in your cunt, savoring every drop of arousal from your desperate dripping hole. "Your pussy tastes so good," Paige murmured, her lips puckering as she spoke before gently nibbling at your clit, swirling her tongue around the pearl in a circular motion, which you absentmindedly replicate with your finger as you gripped the sheets, groaning deeply. Maybe after all, you did like the plump of her lips encasing you as her tongue worked at your clit fervently, making soft wet noises. "Shut up, Paige," you said, "You're gonna-I'll cu-" you're too prideful to say it could EVER happen that early, and just continue to grind your hips against her pretty face, not bothering to ask how she's holding up. Judging by the way she slurps at your clit voraciously, her tongue eagerly scrambling from the front to the back of your cunt, clit to entrance, laving through it hungrily each stroke of the muscle and eliciting the nastiest and most repulsive sounds you've ever heard, yet somehow the sexiest, you have reason to believe she's doing just fine. And you tell her how fine she's doing through a broken, fucked out, and breathless assurance of, "Y'so good, P," biting your lip as you whine your hips languidly, whispering, "Keep going, please." She pulls back, struggling to find her breath. "You're a fucking—" she gasps for air, "You're a slut." The way she says it leaves you aching for more devaluing words, because when Paige utters them, it sends you into a frenzy unlike anything else. In the haze of it, you plead, "Shit, just fuck me, I... fingers, I need them." She rises from her knees. "Say it," she demanded, smacking your ass, and meeting your gaze. "Tell me what you are." You don't have a chance to answer before she presses you down hard, into the mattress, and you gasp at the intense pressure, feeling your cheeks flush impossibly hotter. "A slut," you strainedly admit, the pressure on your back knocking the wind out of you. The words, though so sexily demeaning, are true at the moment.

She's pummeling you in your childhood bedroom and has the audacity to demand sharply, "Louder!" as she presses you down, causing the ache in the first place. You fight for breath, complicitly declaring, "A slut, Paige, mmph!"

You should've known you were in for a ride the moment Paige fell silent. Arms pinned behind your back in between her palms, you squirm at the feel of something much thicker than her fingers rimming against your cunt, and you can't see it, so you start to panic. You can only feel it. It's so large you fear it might break you, and before you can say anything, Paige has eased the tip inside you with a dazed sigh. Your head crooks back to watch her face as she sinks her cock into you, and it makes her heart jump because it's a little too intimate and it reminds her of the first time ever. Still, she doesn't attempt to break it. It's sexy to both of you and it's not often that it happens. She's typically invested in gazing at your body or your lips, or just has her eyes closed, but the look in her eye as she leans forward is intense, and the one in yours gets Paige wetter at the mere sight. She's so satisfied by how you have no choice but to yield and take it, take her - until your body involuntarily starts to falter, punctured by the weight of it pulling you down from inside your body. "So...fuckin'....sexy," she moaned, her free hand gripping your hips and reigning them back as her own pressed forward simultaneously, fucking you thoroughly. She repeats the act, pulling you back and pushing forward until she thrusts particularly hard, and gasps herself. It's genuine, and you're unsure how to react to hearing her moan so sincerely. You simply nod approvingly. "I love how you sound when you fuck me, P," you encourage her, to which she replies, "I love how it feels when I fuck you, baby," "Then don't stop," you cry as you rock forward, slots of arousal pulsating from your core and coating her strap in opaque white. "I'd never want you to." It's insane how when she releases your wrists and manages to sink into you fully, she begins using your body like a toy, ruthlessly owning your cunt with grunts of satisfaction each time your ass claps against her, your skin clapping together. "Such a tight little pussy, God," she praises, watching the sight of your cunt expanding and then resetting with how thick she is, struggling to not get wrecked. With how this strap is made, when you come back against her, she feels every sensation, each thrust pushing the double-ended dildo deeper inside of her as it slides in and out, quicker when you fuck her back. So she might be using you like a fleshlight for the tip to rub the walls of her G-spot, but you can't blame her. She's doing all the work. You lie there helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure as she hammers into you from behind, pulling you back by your hair to meet her gaze, so you can see her and the way she wrecks you proudly. "Fuck yourself on it, angel, please," she pleaded, and it's sweeter than the sinful look she's giving you. Experimentally, you push back hard, meeting her strokes, and she whimpers directly in front of your face, a high-pitched, desperate sound that emerges from deep within her body. "Please," she begged again, "You're gonna make me cum, aw fuck, baby," Your eyes roll back into your head. At the tempo you set for yourself to feel good and the one Paige sets for you to make HER feel good by throwing it back on her, essentially for you, you feel your climax on the horizon. "I want it, Paige, cum with me," you plead. "Yeah?" she grunts, her voice gritty. "You want P's cum? Think you deserve it?"

"I-I do." "Then fuck it out of me," she commands, hands tightening around your waist and pulling your back flush against her chest, essentially hugging you as you rut against her, crying out her name with each movement.

She grips your tit in one hand, squeezing gently and pulling, "Go, baby, yeah.. just like that, make me cum," and though she's trying to steady it, you hear how her voice cracks a couple of times. It sounds so sexy and it gets so raw that it gets to the point where you're actually throwing it back, popping your hips and whining it so quickly Paige can't even help you move faster for both of you. She can't catch your ass as it bounces so vigorously, the visual mesmerizing as she watches. "Don't stop, ma," You're trembling, toes curling uncontrollably as you whine and whimper and grind against her. "I'm close!" you gasp, and just as Paige speeds up, the front door opens downstairs, and her hand flies up to your neck, silencing you, her other hand muffling your sounds. You reach your climax with no air left in you as footsteps approach up the stairs, and you shout into a pillow. Paige is quick enough to press your face into said pillow by this point and finish both of you off, her body pressed against yours as she huffs into your ear. You swear you hear her say it, even if she'll try to deny it later. "You're mine, fuck," as she cums, panting. You lay there, Paige on-top of you, flush against your body, limp.

And for a moment, the world stills, your hearing muffles, but you can still hear your Dad knocking carefully. "Still asleep girls?" he asks. Paige nods, smiling. "Yeah! If it's okay, we're gonna head for a walk before dinner. Y/N needs to wake up!" She's right — you're so overwhelmed that you find yourself outside, dressed, sitting on a bench in your neighborhood park. Yet Paige is still clinging to you for reasons you can't quite grasp.

The gentle, refreshing breeze envelops you both, the park empty and serene. Lost in each other's embrace, you finally pull away, the words tumbling out: "That felt like the first time, kind of."

Perhaps it had considering the two of you finally got to do something more sexually exciting in behest of maneuvering sex in her car.

Paige's response helps it all make sense. "I know." She might be swept up in the moment, but you don't protest. If it feels good, it does, and you eagerly pull her back in as she grips your sore ass, moving you over her lap to straddle her, kneading it. "I bought you...my strap as a gift because I wanted to thank you for, you know, how good of a...link you are," she says affectionately. You gaze deeply into her eyes, refusing to let her look away as you study her face.

She's so serious and so stupid for choosing to get in her feelings while at your parents' house for the week - with you. "What?" she asks intently, eyes tracing over your face as she searches for your reaction. "Is that-... Are you okay?" When you don't answer, lost in the post-coital haze, smiling softly, she murmurs, "So pretty." She doesn't even try to hide she's in the ropes of it too, but while out of the haze, she doesn't think there's ever been a moment when she's seen you look as beautiful as you do when you're in this blissful state.

"Paige?" you whisper, head buried in the curve of her neck as she moves to gently stroke your back soothingly. "Yeah?"

"Do you feel this too?" The question is extremely raw, earnest, and vulnerable, but under the spell of the moment, it sounds like magic to her ears. "Yeah, I... yeah."

"Have you felt it before?" you inquire softly, searching her eyes. "Besides the first time? Because I... I have. I do."

She holds you tighter, placing you back into the crook of her neck, and you suppose she's ducking from letting you see her when you feel her nod. "You're gonna get me in trouble, y'know. You always do."

You smile softly, kissing her soft skin. Little does she know, you already have. MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: this ending i think can cap off the series perfectly because it's left up to the interpretation of the reader. i mean, lmk if i should release the pt 7 draft when i start releasing drafts anyway! lmk anything on your mind I LOVEE you anons / moots / ppl who message me / ppl who reply to my posts, ur all the funniest ppl ever! - ana.

[cupids-chamber]

— THE CONCUBINE GAME !! ♡. Synposis ; After many months of persuading, the emperor, Y/N L/N had finally agreed to take in a select few concubines and consorts—not an official partner.. but concubines. This caused an uproar in court; however the emperor promised to choose an official partner; amongst the crowd of concubines and consorts.. Who will the emperor choose?

— Themes ; Harem / historical au , Twisted wonderland , multiple characters x reader , royalty au , includes rsa + yuuka/yuuken. ♡ . • . will contain suggestive themes.

ꕟ Notes ; I'll try to research for this but I really just want to experiment around with this, I have an idea in mind for the plot and this may go on for quite a few parts, so prepare for a long read. This isn't a smau, since phones didn't exist back then.

ꔁ Profiles ; Harem entries ; Accepted reports ; To be confirmed ; ♡

♡. chapter one

— taglist ♡ ; @corvids-treasure-box , @queerlordsimon , @treytheslay , @syl-lithy , @liris--noir , @dxmoness , @oogly-oogly , @ravenlking ,@sarah22447 , @merurishi , @gyarunie , @nerdy-simp-7120 , @love-sicklesbian , @islander-posts , @the-dumber-scaramouche , @lunavixia , @senpaiofotome , @sophiethewitch1 , @voasprofile , @dotster001 , @aviagax , @eriislost , @twst-writer , @the-fox-of-the-eclipse , @yandere-kou , @achy-boo , @deathbunnyluv , @despairingy-obsessed , @tiyoin , @mirai-in-the-headspace , @novaloptr , @rose-the-witch1 , @kazusardines , @silvery-stars-above , @aromantic-disaster , @alby-rei , @doomcandy , @shionin ,

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© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

candlelight 🕯️

hii it’s me again! congratulations on 1k!! i’ve thinking about this recently (a lot) because im seriously in my miguel ohara kick🥰

but can you do shy & nerdy reader with popular miguel who are dating?? he adores making her flustered and how shy she is.

he makes her ask for his help because he knows how badly she needs him? because she’s just so stressed out about school and stuff? as always if you’re not comfortable writing totally ignore this! this is my first time requesting smut so i don’t know if it’s silly or not! but if you write it i know you’ll do good by it bc ur such an amazing writer😌

-🎀

hiiii, thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting! ahhh, i'm so thrilled you asked for miguel; i was dying to write him and probably will more, especially if people want; i hope you like it! i hope i got enough of the request in here

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader word count: 2.2k notes: modern au, established relationship, fluff, smut (i'm going to keep with marking where it gets smutty, though, bc it's like a full fluff fic before any smut, for those who only want the fluff; MDNI!) part of my 1k celebration!

for anyone who doesn’t speak spanish, i don't want translations to be annoying in the middle or for you to have to scroll to the end, so thought putting them here was best: mi amor / amor mío: my love / literally something like love of mine but works more like emphasis cariño: term of endearment kind of like dear, literally affection mami: another term of endearment, more often cheeky or sexier descansa: rest dime: tell me que maravilla: a joke from the movie, literally what a marvel / wonder, kind of like how wonderful or even just amazing hope i didn't miss any others

The phone buzzing beside you startles you almost completely out of your chair. Coffee makes you jumpy. An entire pot in one night makes you… suspect what you’d be like on cocaine. You’d thought you’d put it on silent. No phone till at least one paper is done, you’d told yourself. Finals had you reeling, and you were desperate to make some progress. When you grab your phone, you see a text from Miguel:

You take your headphones off, and sure enough, a moment later hear a knock at the door. You open it to a Miguel in loose sweatpants and hoodie, dark hair messy, gym bag slung over one shoulder. Even these clothes could do nothing to hide the impressive broadness of his shoulders. 

“Hey, baby,” he says through a bright smile. He kisses your cheek and steps into the apartment. “I know you were trying to focus, but I was getting worried.” “Sorry, I had my headphones on; the neighbors were being too loud again, and I really needed to focus.” “No, not the waiting at your door, mi amor. I’m talking about all of… this,” he gestures wildly around the apartment then his gaze lands on you. “Those dishes were there when I was here days ago, and even though I’m pretty sure adding anything to that tower would topple it, you haven’t. When’s the last time you ate?” “I ha—“ you begin to retort, but he cuts you off. “And I mean real food.” You start again but just give up and shrug. “And you.” He steps close to you and frames your face with his hands. You lean into his touch as he caresses your face. “Baby, you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” You blush and look down immediately. 

It used to be worse, before you got together. When you were confused about his even noticing you, and instead he’d flirted with you. Even now that he was your boyfriend, it took very little from him to fluster you.

He can’t help but chuckle at your reaction. He always does.

“Don’t you? My gorgeous,” he kisses one warm cheek, “gorgeous,” he kisses the other, “girl,” he gives your nose a concluding peck. 

You nod shyly. “C’mon, cariño. Tell me,” he encourages, his tone still teasing but ever adoring. “I want to hear it." “I know you think I’m pretty,” you whisper. “Pretty? No, amor mío, I think flowers and bright colors are pretty; the ocean or a view of the mountains, too. But you, you are beauty personified.” “Miguel, stop,” you whisper through the smile you can’t help, hiding your face in his chest. He laughs lightly. His hand comes to your hair and scratches lovingly.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” He gives your forehead a kiss. “Before I told you you look terrible, baby.” He starts laughing loudly and holds you closer into his hug when you smack his chest and try to pull away. 

“That’s so mean!” gets muffled into his sweatshirt. “It’s not mean; it’s true. You’re still beautiful, but you need a break.” “I can’t, Miguel. I’m drowning in work still, and you know being sick last week really got me behind, and it feels like no matter how long I sit there, I’m no closer to finishing anything, and you’re right my apartment is falling apart, but every time I do something else I feel guilty for stalling on work, and, and —“

Before you can find another overwhelming thing to list, Miguel is hushing you and stroking your back in his warm embrace.

“Breathe, baby, breathe.” He sways you lightly then pulls back a bit to look into your eyes. His hands are caressing your face again, and his fingers brush lightly under your eyes, where you know there are dark circles, as he whispers, “You haven’t slept.” He sounds sad rather than accusatory. 

“Okay,” he starts softly. “Look, I know how much you have on your plate, and I’m not telling you you’re wrong to be stressed. I get it. But you can’t get it done like this, running on fumes and caffeine. How about this? I’m going to help you relax tonight, you’re going to forget about everything you have to do, you’re going to sleep well, and then tomorrow morning you’ll get back to it all.” “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry about me. And I’ll rest after finals.” Just then a car horn blares near your window, making you jump cartoonishly. “Yeah, you seem totally fine,” Miguel deadpans teasingly. “There’s nothing wrong with taking some time, Y/N… And accepting a little a help, okay?”

You nod lightly. “Great,” he gives you a quick peck and moves toward your kitchen, hunting around your barren fridge and cabinets. “Here’s the game plan then. You are going to put on your favorite playlist then go take a warm shower for as long as you like. Your kitchen is as empty as your stomach, so I am going to run down the street to pick up some empanadas then I’ll work on cleaning up this war zone a little bit when I get back.”

“You don’t have to clean.” “Stop fighting me,” he tsks. “Besides you know I don’t mind cleaning. I’m glad I’m not hearing complaints about the food at least,” he laughs. “I love empanadas,” you whisper defeatedly. He cackles. “Who doesn’t?” He kisses you as he moves past you toward the door. “Be back soon. No working! I expect you in the shower when I get back.” You quirk an eyebrow teasingly at him. You were still too shy to say anything teasing, but he’d been working you out of your shell during your time together. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t really like that aspect of being with Miguel. 

His eyebrows mimic yours, and he chuckles lowly. “Don’t give me that look, mami, or you’re not getting me out the door, and you’ll miss out on the empanadas.”

You pull the neck of your shirt up to cover your face, making him laugh. You hear him bound back over to you from the door. He pulls your shirt back down, gives you a short but intense kiss, then heads out. 

Miguel is back before you know it. You are in fact in the shower when you hear him return. You’re already rinsing, but you linger a little longer, enjoying the feeling of the warm water easing the stresses off your tense body. 

When you leave your room to join him again, you’re immediately hit with the delicious smell of food. You see it resting on the counter and find Miguel washing your dishes. 

You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his firm torso, resting your head on his back. “Hola, cariño,” he coos. “I’m almost done.” You nod into him, humming.

When he finishes up, he turns in your arms, bringing his own large ones around you. He leans down and kisses you softly. “Hungry?” 

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles. 

You opt to eat on the sofa, getting comfy. Miguel does most of the talking. Between how tired and how hungry you are, you don’t have the energy or available mouth to talk much. He doesn’t seem to mind, happy to regale you with his silly stories.

When you finish, Miguel cleans up, holding you down and giving you a faux menacing look when you try to get up to help. 

When he comes back, he settles much closer to you than he had been before. You relish his warmth, physical and emotional, and lean into him. 

“Turn around,” he whispers.

“Hm?” “Like this.” He adjusts your body so you’re facing away from him and starts massaging your shoulders. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until the amazing feeling of its being relieved somewhat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miguel,” you exhale approvingly, earning a chuckle.

“I like it when you say my name like that.” He leans in and whispers into your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck deliciously, “Reminds me of other times you end up whining my name.”

It’s shocking how quickly he works you up. You turn to look at him, and when you do, his expression shifts from teasing to intrigued.

“Oh?” he asks. He smirks. “I know that look.” He leans in and kisses your neck sloppily, and you whimper. You’re embarrassed at the sound, but he seems to like it. You feel him smile against the skin under your jaw. “I’m more than happy to give you what you want, but I need to know what that is to give it to you.” His voice is much lower but just as mischievous.

“Miguel,” you complain. “Dime, mi amor.” 

“I —“ Any other words get caught in your throat. Your throat he’s busy sucking on.

“Please, baby. C’mon, I know you can. Tell me what you want.” He runs his teeth along your neck like he knows you like. You often joke he feels like he has fangs when he does. “I want you,” you tell him. 

“Yeah?” “Mhm…”

“I’m yours, mami. How do you want me?”

“I want you to make me feel good.” “Oh, I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so, so good.” He punctuates his words with kisses, working his way up your neck, your jaw, your mouth. “Tell me how,” he whispers, and you feel his lips grazing yours with each word.

You want to relax, and you know exactly what relaxes you the most. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyebrows jump in surprise. Such directness was unlike you. Your exhaustion was probably weakening your filter, and the way he was already making you feel certainly wasn’t helping it. You almost get shy about it, but when you see just how dark his eyes have gotten, see his Adam’s apple bob and his bottom lip come between his teeth, you keep yourself from shrinking away. He nods slowly, staring deeply into your eyes, then kisses you hard. “Get naked,” he says gruffly. 

Already starting to do as he says, you weakly whisper, “You too?” He chuckles lightly but obliges quickly. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him like this. He’s so beautiful. His broad chest and toned abs; his caramel skin and dark hair.

You look back at his face and find he’s noticed you staring at his body. He’s so confident, you think he’s going to tease you about it. Instead, with an adoring smile, he tells you, “That’s how I feel when I see you, too.” You lean up and kiss him, pouring all the emotions you can’t articulate in words into it. 

Without disconnecting your lips, his body guides yours back down until you’re completely prone. He keeps kissing you until you’re breathless, lovingly attends to your neck and down your chest. He lingers there, his tongue making you arch your back, pushing your body up into the sensations he’s delivering. He sucks harder at your visceral reaction then hotly finishes his path down, his face now aligned between your thighs.

He looks at you intently and whispers, “Que maravilla.”

He looks up at you, eyes black storms you lose yourself in as his mouth connects with your body. 

From your delightful vantage point, you watch his muscular shoulders contort as he moves to pleasure you. He looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying it, and seeing him so into it gives you confidence. You start subtly moving your hips in rhythm with his motions. His hands tighten where they hold your thighs, and, mortified, you interpret this as his telling you to stay still, so you do. 

Then Miguel shakes his head hard — the vibrations of which shoot shocking pleasure into you — and he pants, “Keep doing that. Show me how you want it.” His strong grip pushes and pulls you in a movement close to what you were just doing. You take over and move faster. He’s nodding now, and the shake of it has your thighs shaking on either side of his head. 

You’re making loud whimpering sounds when you yell, “Mi — ahh — Migueeell.” He doubles his efforts, picking up his pace and pressing hard against you. You come on his face, and he looks feral as he eats you through it. When you’re done, he licks up your entire slit before shuffling his body back over yours. You’re chest to chest, and his hand comes up to stroke your head. “Good?” 

Your cheeks warm, and you nod shyly. He giggles and gives you a peck. “You’re adorable, mi amor.”

Your legs feel delightfully like jelly as you move them, wrapping them around his waist. He hums approvingly and gives one thigh a tight squeeze, pulling it impossibly closer to his body. He begins stroking it as he kisses you lazily. Your hands entwine in his thick hair, stroke his strong back, hold him close.

When he shifts his weight slightly on top of you, you notice his hardness against your body.

“You want me to…” you whisper, thrusting your hips up into his in place of words.

“Uh-uh, maybe in a little bit, baby, but for right now, I just want you to relax.” 

He continues kisses you languidly, enveloping you in his body heat, and as you close your eyes and melt into the sensations, you’re sure you’re going to have no trouble sleeping soundly tonight. 

[anouchard]

More a nerdy shout out than a question I suppose but, it's such an absolute delight to be going about the internet and there you are lol

Star Trek meme on my Twitter - Anusia

Awesome MagPost on Tumblr - Anusia

Open Maleovent discord - Anusia chatting away lol

It's so awesome how you are just one of us who also happened to get to play in the world we all love.

I guess my question is being a fan and in all of the nerdy fandoms does it change how you view your professional world?

This is a really interesting question! I'll try and keep it relatively succinct - there are potential essays in this one.

To be perfectly honest, it's taken me a little while to feel at ease being unabashedly enthusiastic about things since being cast as a character who is part of a universe that once elicited that same response from me as a listener. One of the reasons I allowed myself (yes, it really was that calculated) to become a fan of Malevolent was because I knew I would never be cast in it, and could therefore keep that non-professional engagement separate to a degree (I really connect with it far more as a writer than as an actor anyway - both Magnus and Malev are very much what I identify with and also aspire to in terms of themes, style, and character arcs).

That said, I think that at the end of the day, you have to really love this funny little industry, or any funny little industry of your choosing, to want to chase your dreams within it with any level of grit, fire, and force. Being a fan of something is a compliment, an expression of adoration and respect, and my way of showing that was attempting to turn podcast work into a career. If I hadn't loved and connected with Magnus as much as I did, I may never have been inspired to go into voice acting, and may never have reached out to RQ at all. The element of serendipity is not lost on me, but it also feels like a very natural progression of events.

Getting friends out of it, though? People I trust and care about and feel supported and inspired by every step of the way? That's the true miracle here, for me. There ain't no plan for that.

Side note: very glad to be an absolute delight. I'm just vibing, tbh, so that's very kind of you. I've had such a warm welcome here generally and I will always appreciate that. 😊

Hey, look, it turned into an essay anyway. Ah well.

[hoeforhao]

Dolled Up In Cherry Haze || C.S.C Oneshot ||

🍒 pairing: bestfriend!seungcheol × fem!reader

🍒 warnings: smut with absolutely zero plot, minors dni, teasing in a public area, slight breast play, seungcheol is a meany tease here, tell me if i missed anything

🍒 word count: 0.9k

🍒 author's note: am finally back with a smut after ages with my hormones literally jumping out of the roof rn♡

🍓 Masterlist 🍓

IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, THEN PLEASE REBLOG OR LIKE OR INTERACT IN ANY MANNER! IT REALLY HELPS US WRITERS 🍓

"Can you twirl around a bit for me,doll?" seungcheol pesters; his face plastered with the evilest smirk as he takes in the breathtaking view of his half naked best friend.

"Don't you wanna show your bestie how the red embraces each and every corner of your body! Hmm?" another nasty chuckle leaves his lips as he takes forward his pleasure torture with "so that he can help you be all dolled up to fuck your crush tonight...or..."

You had absolutely no idea 'bout how you ended up in this situation ; being half naked in the trial room, with only a lacey cherry red lingerie barely covering your cherished areas while your bestfriend seungcheol keeps his eyes fixed onto you, leaning onto the mirror of the room all this while.

All you remember was asking cheol to accompany you to your favorite lingerie store while you picked up the steamiest one to put on later at night - for your date with the guy you've been gushing about 24/7 to him.

"Don't make me repeat myself princess or who knows in how many shreds these pieces of sheer lace will end up...on the floor" cheol's voice sounds stern, trying to mask up the hormones rushing through his crotch at your sight.

"B-but you're my b-bestfriend cherry, it's embarrassing for me" what you actually wanted to say was that it was embarrassing for you to stain the brand new panties even before you've paid for them...even before being able to wear them for the actual purpose!!! Instead you were here on the verge of dripping like a fall onto the mall floor. Reason? Seungcheol's eyes glaring on your half bare body.

"Let me make it easy for you then. What would be more embarrassing - twirling around for me like a good lil princess or screaming my name out loud in the midst of a shopping centre, as I tear of every single thread of this lingerie from your skin, with my TEETH?!"

This man will now surely be the death of you. You close you eyes shut as you slowly twirl around, giving the best erotic show to seungcheol....'til your movement gets hauled by a sudden pair of hands.

"Aren't you such a dirty little slut, getting up all dressed in such scandalous pieces, hardly covering your perked up nipples and dripping cunt" by the time cheol was halfway through his sentence, your eyes were shut tight...from embarrassment? No! From the electrifying waves of pleasure traveling down from the tip of your mounds to the void of your womb; caused by none other than seungcheol's wet lips on your exposed neck.

"That too infront of your bestfriend? Such a desperate whore for being touched aren't you!!" cheol's lips vibrate against your neck as his hands gradually move to cup your breasts into his palms. "But i kinda feel bad for that little nerdy date of your tonight tho."

"W-why so?" you can't even form full words without stuttering like a two year old. What has seungcheol's touch even done to your needy body.

"This is why, my love" these are quite literally the last words that leave his mouth as well as the last ones that get to your head, as seungcheol grips your waist tight and in a swirl of a second turns you towards the mirror, while he's standing pressed up to your back.

"Open your eyes dove and witness the art I'm about to chalk out onto your skin." Not even a second of such a leg shaking remark from seungcheol and he's already biting down onto your neck like a wolf who was waiting for ages to devour the flesh of his mate.

"Do you think that silly crush of yours would even stay at the date after seeing how someone has already marked you, hmm?" a ripple of pleasurable pain runs down your back as cheol whispers these exact words into your skin, teeth still beastly grazing against your entire shoulder.

"F-fuck cheol am completely drenched.. p-pls help me" shocked at your own choice of words, you desperately beg for a climax.

"Not so fast princess. Needy whores need some extra care." the last of seungcheol's kisses paints your body as he withdraws his lips from you.

"Put on your clothes quick and come out. I'll be at the counter" he places one last kiss on your boobs while parting aside the curtain to leave the room. "Oh and don't even think about removing that set. I don't think you would want the entire shop to know how wet you're for your bestfriend"

"What have you done to me Choi Seungcheol. Got me all dizzy and heated up just to leave my core throbbing so bad for your touch huh!" these are the only thoughts that kept circling your palldium as you zipped up your dress and made your way out, body now intoxicated by his cherry haze.

"Let's go darling!! Can't wait to get home baby, right?" a strong pair of bulked up sweaty arms wrap around your waist, with three large shopping bags in his hand.

"DID YOU BUY THE ENTIRE STORE OR WOTT CHOI SEUNGCHEOL??"

"Nah love. Just every existing pair of that red lace embracing your sweet soft skin under the innocent flower dress of yours....one for every night" a wink from cheol is what it takes for your insides to start betraying you; AGAIN!

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Maths genius (Michael Gavey x Reader)

synopsis: You ask your class mate for a tutor session under the guise of desperately needing it. To his surprise he gets something much better than having to try to teach a girl maths.

warnings: flirting, smut, a bit of dry humping, p in v sex, afab reader

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @fan-goddess @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Writers block still has me tight in it´s clutches, but I´ve watched Saltburn for the first time today and I didn´t want to write on this for another week so here you have my first Michael Gavey fic.

As you walk into the otherwise quiet library the clicking of your heels fills the room. Prompting a few students to turn their heads and look. You don't think much about them as you take a book from the large shelves and spot a person from your lectures. Michael Gavey. So you decide to sit down close to him. You had always thought him to be rather cute. Even if nerdy and slightly off putting, still.

You focus back on the book in front of you. However, in a matter of minutes however your confident posture crumbles to a confused expression.

It takes another while for you to look up from the book in frustration. So you miss the way he avoids eye contact at all costs. Yet you search it out nevertheless.

"Hey, you are Michael Gavey, right?" You speak quietly as to not disturb the other students.

“Uh yeah” His tone is nothing short of standoff-ish and at the same time surprised. It is clear that he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to.

It takes you back slightly, but you continue nonetheless. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you, but we are in the same class."

“Oh, we are. I don’t remember your name though.”

You offer him your name with a small smile. You understand that he hadn't had the easiest time connecting with your classmates, so you made a point to be different from them.

"Say, you are like a certified maths genius. Do you do tutoring?" You switch seats to sit right across the table from him.

A not entirely recognizable spark lights up behind the glasses as you do so.

“Uh… I don’t tutor or anything. Are you having trouble?” His tone softens ever so slightly.

"Yes. I have been falling behind ever since we started the new topic. I just don't get it. At all." You play with a strand of your hair and lean forward a bit in the hopes to make him say yes.

As soon as he identifies your flirting you can see he draws a blank. It's honestly kinda cute.

“Well, m-maybe you want to come over to my place later..." When he realizes that that could sound weird taken out of context, he quickly adds "So I can teach you.”

"That would be just great, but I thought maybe we could meet up at my dorm?”

You take one of your fingers to trace small patterns into the back of his hand. You know you are laying it on thick, it´s visible in the uncertain spark behind the nerdy glasses, lighting up his piercing blue eyes.

“Yeah, of course! Let’s do your room. What building are you in?” The way Michael nods so fast you are scared that his glasses fall off, makes you hide a giggle behind your hand.

"Gimme your hand." You grab a pen and pull his hand towards you.

When you write your room number onto the inside of his wrist, Michael´s eyes lock with yours like a deer in headlights.

“Got it. I’ll be over at 7:00. Will that work?”

"That works perfectly actually. I'll see you then." You give him a wink and strut away with what Michael believes to be a bit of a spring in your step.

“Um... yeah... see you then.”

His eyes follow your retreating form until you are out of sight, before he looks down at your note again, while you smile to yourself. There is only one more lecture separating you from your little `date´.

One lecture and one clothing change later, you are just about to freshen up your lipgloss when a faint knock can be heard from the door. Right on the time that you agreed upon. Michael looks down to his shuffling feet on the ground when you open the door to him, which gives you the advantage of seeing his full reaction to seeing your clothes. Bit by bit his blue eyes wander up over the thigh high stockings, pausing at the pleated skirt and over the oversized sweater until they come to a halt on your face. Instantly any sound of your name dies on his tongue.

“I um… I’m here for the… the math lesson.” He mumbles. It's almost comical how his face reddens as he pushes the glasses up his nose.

The reaction elicits a giggle from you. It is obvious that there will be a lot done tonight, but studying wouldn't take up the biggest part of it.

"Come on in." You take a step back to make way for his tall figure to enter your room.

He nods once as he does so. His gaze getting drawn back to you as he tries to maintain eye contact.

“You look… uh…”

"I look...?" It's kind of fun to see him struggle like this.

“H-hot. You look really hot and it’s distracting.” He quickly looks down so as to avoid your gaze again to hide the worsening of the blush. "So, where do we start?”

"At the beginning, maybe?" You smirk.

“Yeah… good point.” He sits down at the desk while you lean over him.

As he opens your book and begins to explain to you the foundations of the topic you let your breasts graze Michael's back and arm deliberately every now and again to put him off. It's not a hard task, with every brush of your sweater against his shirt, he stumbles over his words. It is palpable that no matter how hard he is trying to concentrate on the work in front of him, your body pulls his eyes away from the book again and again. At one point you even think you can see his length twitch underneath the cargo shorts. Letting this go on for as long as you can, you eventually put on a seemingly concerned and innocent face and lay a hand on his forehead as if to feel his temperature.

"My... You are so warm. Are you feeling well?"

Behind his eyes the wheels are turning in a desperate attempt to think of a clever response, but at this point it is just impossible. As soon as you placed your hand on Michael's forehead, all that comes out is “I-I… uh… I… “

"Come, sit on the bed. I think we should take a break from studying." You gently take his hands in yours to lead him over to the edge of your bed.

A lead without even thinking about it. The urge to just give himself up to you is building rapidly by the second.

“S-sorry. Uh… I mean I… “

"Shhh." You lay your finger under his chin to keep his gaze locked with yours. "Is this your first time?"

"Yes." Michael breathes out.

"Stop me if I go too far..." You murmur against his lips, closing your eyes just before you lean down more for your lips to meet in a feather light brush.

A shiver went through his previously relaxed body and his hot breath hit your lips harder as he kissed back. Your hand that currently holds him by the chin wanders upwards to cup one of Michael's cheeks. His hands begin to slide down the outside of your thigh, suddenly pulling you onto his lap. As he does so, the fabric of the skirt bunches at your waist. The action provokes your breath to falter and to press your body as close to his as possible. Instinctively your lips open further, to allow for a more intense kiss. One of Michael´s hands wanders behind your back to support you on his lap and then, finally, he moves his lips to your neck, giving it a soft bite.

"Oh, Michael." You whimper as his teeth graze your skin. Grinding your core against his lap as a reaction.

His hands wander further up under the fabric of your sweater, cold skin caressing warm skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Don't stop kissing me, please." Your words are barely a shuddering whisper.

His mouth leaves your neck and moves down your body to kiss your chest through the thick sweater. Sucking on your nipples until there are two wet spots staining it. The bundled nerves standing hard at attention, but your sweater is in the way of what you are doing, so his hands wander from just under your ribs further up. With a tingle running down your spine you lift your arms up in aiding him to throw the piece of fabric to the side. Not caring where it lands. You are all too glad to lose it. He too doesn't waste a single second and litters your breasts with kisses and nibbles. This time though, you feel a tug at the hem of your skirt.

The sensation makes your desire for him grow incredibly high. The zipper on the side  gets opened fast and in a swift motion you lift your body off his lap just long enough to kick it aside. There is no time or need for words.

"Your body is incredible." The words hit your skin between heavy breaths as his hands run over your stomach, rubbing tight circles into the soft skin before continuing to wander down to massage your thighs. Michael's lips wander further down your body as well to follow suit. His warm tongue traces down your middle from the valley between your breasts down to just about your belly button. Your reaction to his teasing came instantly in the form of a quiet moan. Which got followed by a knock at your door. Assuming it was just your friend that forgot something the other day, you don't make an effort to stop what you are currently doing. She needed to learn eventually after all, a notion which gets you an uncertain look from Michael beneath you.

But you only place a finger on your lips in a sign to be quiet.

"Shhh" You whisper to him and then thread your hands into his short hair to guide his face right in front of your exposed chest. Something he willingly allows, attaching his lips to nibble at your bosom. Littering it with bite marks and hickeys, tracing every little curve of it. The ministrations get you to completely forget about the knock on the door just a second ago and also the one rule you set after it. Yet at his needy nibbles and licks you can't help being unable to hold back the squeal of enjoyment that sounds through the room.

In a hurry Michael moves his mouth away from your chest and covers your mouth with one of his hands.

“Shhhhh... Your friend will hear us.” His palm lays snug against your face, so as not to let any sounds through. Something that you allow until you get a better idea. Unbothered if the two of you can be heard any longer, you warp your lips around Michael´s long, slender fingers to swirl your tongue around them teasingly.

A shock of warmth goes through his body, making itself noticeable by the way his face burned. When you feel like he had been teased enough, you let his hand free with a wet `pop´

Immediately they get replaced by his lips once more as they catch yours in a searing kiss, at which you let out a most sinful sounding moan.

“Fuck…” Both of you curse under your breaths simultaneously.

By now he has done a great job at making you desperate for more and so your trembling fingers move down to work at the buttons of his shirt. It takes a while, but eventually and with a bit of teamwork, you are able to throw it to the ground as well. Just then Michael leans all the way back until his back lays flat against the mattress. The new position makes it easier for you to grind against him, a chance you use immediately by running your barely covered cunt over the tent in the blond's pants.

"I need more..." A tiny whimper passes Michael's lips. "Need to be inside of you."

At his words your hands stop caressing his body and come down to fumble open the button of his pants. Though you don't entirely grant him his wish yet. The moment is too good to not stretch out. His pants and underwear get pulled down barely as far as they need to, before you grind on his dick again. As you do so, his member twitches up to tease your covered clit, which makes your head fall back and mouth open to make way for steadily heavier growing breaths.

When you lean forward to lock your swollen lips with his again however you move your hips a bit too far. So as you move them backwards again you only have a short moment to process the fact that his cock had slipped past the lace panties and entered your fluttering, wet heat.

“You´re so tight.” Michael can´t fight off or quieten the loud moan any longer, but the complete lack of stimulation after what you had done previously began to get to you.

“Shit. Michael I really need you to move or else I´m going crazy.” Though it wasn´t an ask from your side it also wasn´t a command, yet the blond followed it instantly. His hands gripped your hips tightly and set a slow rhythm by guiding your movements to meet his thrusts.

Both of your moans, groans, whines and whimpers fill the room along with the wet slapping of skin against skin.

”Feels so good, Michael. Feel so good inside of me.” You lean back and prop yourself up on his thighs, allowing you to fasten the movements of your hips.

“I´m not going to last much longer. You´re so wet and perfect.” He mumbles as the flush on his cheeks darkened and spreading over his face until it reached the tips of his ears.

His cock twitches inside of you as if to underline that statement. So you lead one of his hands away from your hips to your throbbing clit. Picking up on your actions Michael's thumb rubs small, tight circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Reveling in the way your walls flutter even further around his length, bringing him closer to the edge as your noises become even more urgent and high pitched.

“Come for me.” You say when you feel yourself get close as well. It is a whisper at first, but with a little concentration from that hazy brain of yours, you are able to repeat it a little louder. “Come for me, now.”

The blond´s eyes roll back into his head, one last whimper leaves his lips and then the feeling of warm ropes of cum filling your core floods your body. His hips stutter in their movements, but yours are from done. Continuously and relentlessly they drive you up and down on his cock. Soon after Michael you get overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure, forcing you to sit back in his lap as your legs and hips shake from the climax. Swaying back and forth on top of him for a while, before you are able to catch your breath and think straight again.

“Shit…” You hear Michael whisper beneath you.

Looking down at him, you can´t conceal a giggle at how entirely fucked out he looks. His hair is mussed and his glasses sit slightly crooked on that sharp nose. It´s almost comical.

The two of you take some more time to come back to reality and get dressed again.

“I better be going now.” Michael croaks, lingering close to you for a second. Uncertain if he should say what he was thinking. “But um… If you would like to have another study session some time… I wouldn´t be opposed to that.”

“I wouldn´t be opposed to it at all either.” Followed your flirty response.

It surprises him visibly, though he manages to sort himself out rather quickly.

“Do you mean that?” He inquires.

“I surely do. Give me your number and I´ll call you.” It is more of a suggestion, but he gives you his number so fast you almost have trouble catching it the first time. Snapping your phone shut after saving it, you turn to look back at Michael.

“I can´t wait to see you again.” You wink and give a small, alluring wave.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Short story workshop! ✍️✍️✍️ August 2024

Y'all, I am interested in hosting a short story workshop to share my knowledge and my passion for writing and to help other writers who are seeking a place to connect with fellow writers.

However, I am so tired of seeing workshops that cost $200+ for just a few hours! If you're interested in attending a low-cost writing workshop, please read more below the cut...

I'm going to host video-call short story workshops at the very low cost of pay what you can! My suggested donation is around $30.00, but if cost is any kind of an issue, please put a note in the Google form and we can work something out!

8/9/24 Update: Our first workshop will be Sunday, August 11 at 3 p.m. Central US/4 p.m. Eastern US

There are additional times and dates on the Google signup form. Please let me know if you don't see something that works for you. (And rest assured, I'll be adding some European/non-US times soon! Please message me if you're outside of North America and we'll get something set up!) Sign up here at the Google form

FAQs... Who the hell are you? Hi! I'm Claire, I'm very friendly and have been here on Tumblr writing adult fanfiction since 2021. In my first year on Tumblr, I wrote 216,860 words of short story fanfiction. That's a LOT! Fanfic led me to getting back into creative writing, which was a lifelong passion but had been dormant for almost twenty years. Rediscovering writing saved me from one of the deepest depressions I had ever experienced, and I'm so grateful to it and to the other writers I've met over the years for saving my sanity.

What do you know about writing, anyway? A ton! I'm a huge nerd, and when I have a passion for something, I research endlessly and deeply and am always learning something new. Since I started writing fanfic in 2021, I have taken 3 college courses in creative writing, self-published my first book, and I read non-fiction "books about writing" more than I read all other genres combined. (I really love writing!) I'm also "that friend" who knows the difference between affect/effect, vice/vise, they're/there/their, and other really nerdy grammar and spelling and punctuation rules, and I've beta-read for over a dozen other Tumblr authors over the years. After self-publishing in September of 2023, I found that I enjoyed the process so much that I decided to make it my vocation. In March of 2024 I opened a small business to provide self-publishing guidance and author services to other independent authors. I am currently working with my first client to edit and hone a manuscript and query letters for pitching to agents, and I'm also co-editing an anthology of original short stories from some of my favorite Tumblr writers that will debut in January 2025, published through my company.

Why so cheap? I don't have $250 lying around for a one-day writing workshop, and I'm guessing you don't, either.

You write a LOT of smut; do we also have to write "spicy" stories? Nope! Smut is not required - this is a general short story workshop to help you craft any kind of story your heart desires! I love writers and writing, and I'll be your cheerleader no matter what genre of short fiction calls to you and makes your fingers fly!

What do we get out of this? The workshop will consist of two parts. The first will be a 60-minute group video call (time/date TBD), where I will present the basics of short story form, function, and several prompts. Each participant can use one of the prompts, or bring a short story that you've already started. If you would like to get some feedback, I'll ask you to send me your short story draft within 10 days. Two weeks after the first call, I'll host another 60-minute group call, share some of the stories from the group, and provide workshop feedback and guidance to continue your writing! It is totally optional if you want to share your story with the group, but at the very least I hope to provide a welcoming space to talk about writing and to expand your knowledge - you might even make a new writer friend or two!

What if I'm shy/prefer to remain anonymous? I am more than happy to set up a 1:1 workshop with just me and you! Please indicate that on the signup form and we'll set up a time to chat.

Sign up here at the Google form and let's talk writing!

[memento-mori-twilight]

One of the best things about My Adventures with Superman as a DC Comics fan is just how many deep cuts they are allowed to put in, some a lot deeper than others.

A lot deeper!

Some so deep that the origins of some things have become a bit muddied and come seemingly out of nowhere (or from solely the creator's imagination)

But as comic enjoyers know, if you've thought it, some writer/artist all the way back then has more than likely considered it too

And I figured I'd help start a series of posts to help shed some light on these original to help show my appreciation to the attempts and takes the show has undertaken adapting to help makes these concepts more mainstream and palatable for a non-comic audience.

(Also I'm aware this is just an excuse for me to get out my nerdy Superfam rantings, but indulge me here a little, will ya? Hahaha)

Introducing...

MAWS Concept Comic Book Origins

And what better place to start than where it all starts: Krypton!

Let's start in chronological order:

1) Kal-el's semi-sentient high-tech baby ship

(without the ship growing aspect, of course)

2) Kryptonian Bio-tech suit

Yes, the Magical Girl Sequence does have some kind of comic precedent!

Krypton being an invading force

Yep, the comics came up with it first before Invincible and roughly Kryptonian Battle Ship design since they have the similar space gun shape in the show.

The Fortress of Solitude

Specifically a form of the Golden/Silver Age interpretation (from the outside design, sans giant lock and key)

Kryptonian Battle Tech Suits

Kara's and the Big Guy on the Right's battle suits share some huge design similarities in particular

...and last but not least (spoilers for episode season 02x06)

Kryptonian Thought/Memory Projectors

Now with a modernized headband design!

(Note: this is going off solely of the info we're given of the tech based on the early promo, not any truth that may come out about the tech later in the season)

Anyway, that's all I could find/think of in a short notice.

I know I haven't found all of them, so if you can come up with/think of any other examples, put them in the replies or comment them in a rb!

Talk to you all next time!

[bluemirrorangel]

Dps headcanons the poets and their type of academia aesthetic 

This is wayyyy longer than I intended it to be lol anyway I hope you enjoy these, leave a ship or fandom suggestions and I’ll do headcanons for them if you want :) 

Todd:darkest Academia

Loves gothic fiction and horror stories because he likes being nervous knowing that he's supposed to be.

Likes reading outside at night because it’s quiet 

Surprisingly nosey, not in a bad way he’s just really curious about stuff.

Likes dark/muted colours.

His favourite book is a picture of Dorian grey.

Weirdly into cryptids and other mysteries.

Was TERRIFIED of the Bermuda triangle as a kid.

Loves writing poetry but enjoys writing in general.

Semi popular writer on AO3 for classical literature, started because Keating told him to publicise  some of creative writing.

Runs his good reads account like the navy.

Charlie:chaotic academia

Regularly gets uniform carded for everything; shirt unbuttoned and untucked, tie loosened, he never has his blazer on and his jumper is perpetually tied around his waist. 

Has a mason jar type cup on his nightstand that is always full of a mixture of different energy drinks and fizzy drinks/soda’s, Cameron says it looks like paint water.

Banned from reading out loud in English class pre-Keating because he got a little too into the role of Jack in Lord of the Flies .

Point blank refuses to do P.E and is always ‘losing’ his kit.

Shockingly serious about music class, deeply respects the teacher and never misses a lesson.

Post stick notes EVERYWHERE

Writes his notes in highlighter and felt tips

Went through a phase of bringing a flask to school instead of a water bottle because he thought it looked cool.

Spark notes BIGGEST FAN.

A saxophone prodigy despite being unable to read sheet music.

Neil:light academia

Loves Shakespeare and the theatre in general

Good grades in every class but really shines when it comes to the arts

Eats his lunch in the English classroom with the other poets

Forges his fathers signature for school trips so much half his teachers have no idea what his dads handwriting actually looks like.

Hates biology because he’s scared of blood

Always says that Todd is his favourite author/poet.

Really good memory, able to learn lines at shocking speeds. 

Finds it difficult to multitask; has to have instrumental music playing otherwise he gets distracted.

Prefers plays over books.

Collects playbills.

Meeks:classic academia 

Loves typewriters, inherited one from his grandparents and uses it alllll the time.

has a polaroid camera and uses it to take either the best candid's or the  most diabolical mugs there's no in-between.

Owns a shocking amount of sweater vests.

Has a record collection.

Loves those retro 50’s themed diners/drive-ins, drags Pitts and the poets to those all the time.

Really into history

Owns an analogue radio.

Taught himself Latin one summer to impress Pitts, and is now fluent.

His entire wardrobe is vintage themed.

Favourite book is the Outsiders by S.E Hinton.

Knox:romantic academia

Writes love letters and poetry whenever he has a crush on someone, used to keep them under his bed but swiftly changed that hiding place after watching ‘to all the boys I've loved before.’ with his sister, they now live in a shoebox on his trophy/bookshelf.

Loves the romantics big fan of love poetry as a whole.

Has definitely tried to serenade someone before.

 Self taught guitarist.

Has only ever received on card on Valentines Day, it was from Charlie in year nine it’s one of Knox’s most prized possessions.

Loves Romeo and Juliet.

Thinks ‘say anything’ is the height of romance 

Subconsciously wants to be romanced for once instead of the other way round. 

 Has Pinterest boards dedicated to romantic quotes 

His favourite movie is the princess bride.

pitts:’nerdy’ Academia 

really into the roman empire 

Loves renaissance fairs and goes every year.

REALLY into dungeons and dragons.

Loves going to random museum exhibits.

Spent half his childhood hyper fixated on the Titanic, was super excited to watch the movie and completely heartbroken when he realised it was a fictional story and not a documentary.

Brilliant at chess.

Knows random historical facts.

Horrible at remembering faces but never forgets a name.

Loves mythology of all kinds.

Really good at architecture; his middle school used to have a architecture competition where  you had 2 minutes to make a house out of marshmallows and dry spaghetti the most stable one won, Pitts won every year.

Cameron:dark academia 

Keeps his notes/homework in colour coded folders and files

A proper perfectionist and  chronic overachiever.

Writes in pencil or fountain Pen.

the gifted kid who REFUSED to burn out.

Only gets attention at home when he’s doing well at school, so he throws himself into his studies.

Drinks more coffee than water

Can play the piano, was entered in a school concert and his whole family came. He was terrified of embarrassing or disappointing them so he overdid it and played so hard his fingers bled.

Has a copy of every graded test practice or otherwise in his room so he can go over them before his exams.

Hates English with a passion because it’s the one lesson where there are no rules.

Once spent an entire night going over his English notes before a test and was so overtired he fell asleep during the exam and failed it. None of the poets bring it up not even Charlie because that day was the first time he’d seen Cameron cry.

[drmaliceofficial]

ON SALE NOW!

Do you like retro sci-fi? How about stories set in the 80s? Do you like haunted games and nerdy ghosts? What about small town mysteries and government conspiracies?

Consider giving DR. MALICE a read! It's my debut novel, following the story of dead game developer Nolan Coyopp and his encounters with curious teenagers. All the while he pieces together the fractured memories of how he truly died.

Support an independent artist and writer by giving it a read and leaving a review! The Ebook will be 70% off until September 12th.

Note: the ebook is also completely free to those with Kindle Unlimited.

Get it here!

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 02/25/2024

Nerdie! You saw it right! He won! *hugs tightly*

Yes he did! 🥰 We're all so happy for him! Finally!

We're also buzzing about how he looks like he's on the cover of a romance novel. Maybe on a ranch, maybe in the 1800's. It's a pretty versatile look. He likes his deep V's....

As we all should. Also, I'm taking notes on that. *scribbles*

Anything new besides, well clearly pirate adventures?

Pirates have scurvy and Pedro is well nourished so none of that. Other ideas for his characters. Ezra and Pero might have scurvy though. I did manage to write some this week. It's been busy. 👀 Ugh...real life stuff. Nothing major. Just needs to be done.

Nerdie's fics:

Guiding Light (Ezra one shot - I was chatting with @lady-bess and had the idea for this. I always have Ezra in some crime. 😎)

Lunch is happening right? (Part two of my summer romance Javi G fic. Not sure how many parts.)

He told me his name (Din Djarin x plus size female reader) I wrote it after reading a new Din fic by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (will be listed below. I'd still call it moody because despite writing, I still have trouble with my vocabulary. 🤣 It is pretty though. I'm working on a follow-up since people asked 👀)

Can't win carino (Javi G one shot - for @i-own-loki because she gave me the idea and the moodboard so I ran with it.)

The Man Next Door (Jake Lockley one shot for @megamindsecretlair because she kinda asked, more like I asked her what she wanted in it. She asked for action and smut. I might try more action in fics later.)

Get a room you two and BONE (Part two of my Tim Rockford comedy series which now has romance? I binged too much B99, watched a bit of Castle and a few episodes of Kojak with my mom. The insanity will only increase with part three but maybe there might be some growth between Tim and Doc? Or a hippo.)

Nerdie I thought you said you were busy....that's six fics...

I was and some of them I had been working on for a while. I also had some insomnia (that lead to parts two and three of the Tim Rockford fic). Anyway, on to the main event! 😘

Nerdie's fic recommendations! or things I read this week. 😄

14 x kisses by @trulybetty (Jack Daniels x reader) Part of her 29 days of valentines for February.

Sorgan Girls Are Easy - Solo Din Djarin by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (the fic that inspired my Din - her Din has 100% more smut)

Half of you - chapter 3 by @foxilayde (Santiago Garcia x fem. reader) Slow burn series - love it and trying to read it slowly to savor it.

Falling for you by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Javi Pena x fem reader) A bittersweet read that had me wonder what was next but I was hopeful.

Sunday Naps by @javierpena-inatacvest (Frankie Morales x fem reader) More proof that cuddling with Frankie leads to wonderful things.

Poe Dameron falling in love with his shy best friend (GN reader) by @i-belong-to-the-stars What one hopes for if you're shy and you're in love with those curls...er Poe. 🫣

Mystery Strain by @rebel-held (Dieter Bravo x GN reader) All kinks are valid and who doesn't love Dieter with a belly? 😘

Bulletproof by @laurfilijames (Jax Teller x fem reader) She wrote poetic porn with feelings. I was overcome, titllated and confused.

A girl walks into a bookshop by @oonajaeadira (Ezra x fem reader) Soft Ezra with a bookshop, yes please! 😄

Beneath the mask by @saradika (Din Djarin x fem reader) A medieval knight Din...so where does one pick up the velvet dress?

Loneliness by @sirowsky (Pero Tovar x GN reader) Pondering Pero in your local Park? Highly recommended for Valentine's Day.

15 x cashmere by @trulybetty (Joel Miller x GN reader) What thread count was it that encouraged Joel to hop in bed in such a state? For my personal file. 👀

He sees you by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x reader) This writer will tell you she just loves words. I would argue that the words love her in a unique way that makes you see the things. 💜

16 x dance by @trulybetty (Tim Rockford x reader) I pictured him dancing with the reader in his trench coat. @secretelephanttattoo (El) is to the holsters as I am to the trench coat. 🤣 In my mind.

Quiet Moments Collection by @secretelephanttattoo (various Pedro characters x reader) It’s the small instances that you think don’t matter, that are the most meaningful.

Plus One by @always-andromeda (Frankie Morales x fem reader) Always a fan of two idiots in love, even with their spat.

A Strange Fate by @youandmeand5bucks (Silva x fem reader) Two people who came together because of life circumtances. Are they really satisfied?

A Beskar Valentine by @firstofficerwiggles (Din Djarin x female reader) Awesome username, it makes me giggle. Din will be ten steps ahead and still fifteen behind when it comes to matters of the heart. My guy is an overthinking champion.

Seven by @lokischocolatefountain (Javier Pena x reader) A simple discussion about children leads Javier to a drastic solution.

To be Explored Later by @legendary-pink-dot (Frankie Morales x fem reader x Santiago Garcia) aka Ms. Curls if ya nasty! 😘 Somehow I missed the gem of a sandwich. How the reader was able to think about anything is beyond me.

Red Light Glow by @missredherring (Lucian Flores x fem reader) This man has me and @rhoorl keeping track of his silk shirt and gold chain. We would accept his call. The guilt would go away too quickly if we felt it at all. 😌

Incarnadine by @iamskyereads (Pero Tovar x fem reader) This Pero has me swoon with his care toward the reader, his love of baths (I just want him to soak and relax - he's been earning coin!), and his word choice. This is another person that words appear to favor. 💜

Not like I fangirled over these writers this week or anything 👀

What on the docket for this week Nerdie?

Part three of the Javi G summer romance

Maybe...Roc & Doc part three I don't like sitting on finished parts but then I whine about having no motivation for the next part. 👀 I make no sense.

March is toward the end of the week so my March Spring Prompts will start! I scheduled the first six days I think. I got anxious about getting behind (which isn't the point of doing them but anxiety doesn't care) and did some in advance. I like how they're coming along and that they're short. Unlike this update. 🤣 They won't have summaries, but will have warnings, tags and notes.

And because I hear series and I think "I should start another one!" I decided to write an Ezra series. How did I happen upon our favorites prospector/scoundrel/reluctant father figure? I've been reading works by @morallyinept @maggiemayhemnj and @magpiepills

Ezra intimidated me because of his language, but actually, I think I'd get along with him because he puts on a persona with a great deal of performance. It's the audience's job to figure out if you're serious or not. Or at least that's how I approached him. 🤨 This could go badly. I stuck him on the bayou with an air boat and I want him to cook gumbo. *full delusional achievement unlocked*

Special shout-outs to @connectioneverywhere and @soft-girl-musings for sending me lovely asks this week.

Also to @inept-the-magnificent who called Tim Rockford her sidepiece and I am still very tickled. 🤣

This update was long 🤗 Hehe

Love Nerdie ❤️