#of course i want to write my fics when i have to finish an essay for class Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[starsandbots]

Oh I so need to finish that fic about stars and light in relation to the idw comics that I started writing last year soon...

[fairytaleendingss]

Hey lovely, first, I just want to say I love your work so much. I wanted to request a poly Marauders fic with a female reader who's struggling with schoolwork and is overall feeling depressed. She starts to isolate herself from everyone, her grades drop, and she stops taking good care of herself. I understand this is a heavier topic, but I've been stuck in a slump and would love an angst/comfort fic. Either way, thank you!

Thanks for the request! Generally, I don't mind writing about heavier topics so don't be afraid to ask (hurt/comfort is my favourite thing to write tbh). I'm sorry you're not doing well but I hope this makes you feel a little better.

Overworked

Summary: The boys comfort you when you've been struggling with your school load.

Pairing: Poly!Marauder x fem!reader

CW: Angst, reader not taking care of herself, poor mental health.

—

It was getting dark outside, you noticed, glancing out the window of the library. Silver stars had began to twinkle in the inky black sky and the moon, in it's waning phase was hanging just outside of window, casting gentle rays off light over the table before you.

You didn't know how long you'd been there but from the looks of things, it'd been a while. It had been mid-afternoon when you'd decided to venture into the library for a study session.

Now it was late, it seemed, and your half-written essay sat before you, staring into your soul like it was mocking you. You rubbed your eyes, in an attempt to clear your blurring vision.

You'd been working on this essay for what seemed like days but for some reason, you just couldn't make it work. This was your fourth re-write and you still weren't satisfied. You resigned yourself to the idea that you may have to pull yet another all-nighter tonight if you were going to get it ready for submission in a few days.

It had been like this for weeks. A constant cycle of submitting essays and starting new ones, in preparation for your upcoming NEWTs. It was becoming overwhelming. The work was piling up and this point you were struggling to see the finish line. It felt as though no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't manage to keep up and it was killing you.

You'd barely had time to sleep over the last few weeks and when you did, it was full of horrid dreams of missing due dates and failing exams. You we're completely drained of energy, engulfed by stress and had barely had time to take care of yourself amongst the hours of exam prep you'd put yourself through. Your friends had started to notice it too, the way you'd withdrawn yourself. You'd begun to pull out of group events and stop engaging with conversations on the rare occasions when you did find time to spend with them.

And the worst part of it all is that you'd had to blow of your amazing boyfriends more times than you could count. You were sure it was starting to take a toll on them as well but you were too embarrassed to tell them about what was going on. They were all so naturally smart and got good grades without barely having to try (apart from Remus, of course, who studied like his life depended on it.)

So instead of opening up to them about your struggles and your concerns, you'd taken to avoiding them where you could, which was only proving to fill you with guilt on top of everything else.

You noticed a splash of water drop onto the parchment in front of you but you were quick to wipe it away. You had to remain focused.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you heard the gentle pitter patter of footsteps across the stone floor. You looked up to see the one and only James Potter, eyes scanning the space, clearly in search of something.

You raised a brow at the sight. You weren't quite sure what he was doing here. James rarely entered the library of his own volition. You wondered for a moment if he had gotten lost.

Then his gaze landed on you and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He jogged over to you, placing a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. Then he crouched down beside where your form was slumped over the desk.

"Hey there, lovely. We've been looking for you everywhere. You missed dinner."

He was looking into your eyes with such affection that they once again, welled with tears. He looked beautiful in the low light of the library. His dark curls were disheveled as usual, flopping down into his eyes, and he was wearing his signature lopsided smile, the one that usually never failed to cause butterflies to flutter in your stomach. However, in this moment in just caused a wave a guilt to wash over you. You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve any of your wonderful boyfriends.

Sensing your distress, a crease of concern formed between James' eyebrows. He reached out a hand to every so gently brush a stand of hair behind your ear, his thumb hovering for a moment, rubbing small circles in your cheek.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry I missed dinner," you pouted, trying to keep your tears at bay. "I didn't mean stand you up again."

"That's okay, love," James chuckled sympathetically. "We're just worried about you is all."

Your bottom lip wobbled at that. You knew you'd been slack in your efforts with the boys recently and it hurt your heart to make them upset like this.

"Oh darling, come 'ere." he tugged you towards him, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his muscular arms around your shaking frame.

This is when the floodgates opened and you found yourself sobbing into the front of James' shirt. You gripped the fabric for dear life as he held you, not taking any notice of the wet patch you were creating on his front. He whispered soft reassurances in your hair, rubbing your back gently and you finally let the emotions wash over you.

Eventually your tears began to slow and you pulled away, sniffling pathetically. You looked into James' hazel eyes, which were now clouded with concern.

He opened his mouth to say something more but you were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps rushing towards the two of you.

"Prongs?" Sirius voice echoed out through the Library. "Are you in here?"

"Yeah, I found her," he called back.

A moment later, the figures of your other two boyfriends peered around a bookcase. The relief melted from their expressions when they took in the sight of year tear stained cheeks.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Sirius rushed towards you and James moved aside to let him take a closer look at you.

"Did someone hurt you? I'll kill them."

This elicited a chuckle from you as you wiped your eyes with a shaky hand.

"No Sirius, I'm okay. You don't have to fight anyone."

"Well thank god for that," Remus sighed teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone messing up that pretty face of yours, would we?"

Sirius took on a look of mock offense. "How dare you! They wouldn't have time to get a lick in if they hurt our girl."

"Well, luckily you don't have to worry about fighting any imaginary people just yet," you giggled.

Remus took a seat at your other side, happy to see Sirius was able to make you smile. He hadn't caught many of those as of late. As he sat down at the table, he noticed your unfinished essay.

"Darling, tell us what's got you so upset?" he pressed.

You took a deep breath. "I've just been so overwhelmed lately. I just feel like I can't keep up and the work just keeps piling up. I don't know if I can do it anymore."

"Oh, love," Sirius cooed, a deep frown gracing his delicate features. "Why didn't you tell us."

"I don't know. You guys are so good at school. I was just embarrassed I suppose."

Remus reached out a gentle hand to rub your back. "You never have to be embarrassed around us, lovely. We just want to help you. We can't do that if we don't know what's going on."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled pathetically. You felt a bit silly now for ever thinking they'd judge you.

"It's okay, sweets," James muttered. "We'll always be here for you if you need us. No matter what, alright?"

"Yeah," Sirius added. "Even if it means I have to fight someone."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"There's that gorgeous smile of yours," he exclaimed and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Now, what can we do to help?" Remus asked gently. He had this kind, nurturing aura about him that always had a way of putting you at ease.

You sighed, mentally assessing your list of tasks. "I need to finish this essay but I just can't seem to get to the end."

"It sounds to me like what you need, love, is a good nights sleep. You need to take care of yourself before anything else." He suggested, looking at you sweetly.

"Maybe you're right," you relented. Remus always was the wise one of the group.

"Come on!" Sirius exclaimed. "Lets get you up to bed. James can sneak down to the kitchen and grab you some food and then Remus can help you with your work in the morning. How does that sound?"

He helped you up from your chair and James swung your bookbag over his shoulder.

"That sounds nice," you told him earnestly.

Sirius tucked you under his arm while Remus gently grabbed your other hand in his and you began to make your way towards the tower.

"I have one more thing to ask though," you announced as you made your way through the castle halls.

"Anything," Remus answered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"When we get back to the dorm, do you think we can cuddle for a bit?"

James turned around to face you from where he was walking ahead, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Darling, you never have to ask for that."

[e-rated-beardo]

2024 fic roundup

@cheeseplants created this ask/tag game, and I've been tagged by @addledmongoose and @harlotofupdog, here we gooo

What fandoms do you write in?

200% Good Omens. First proper fandom experience. First thing that forced (aye, forced) me to write a fanfic. Huge obsession.

If I were to write for anything else, it might be Our Flag Means Death, or Doctor Who, or perhaps House M.D. or some flavour of Star Trek. Or a crossover between one of those and GO. I'm a completely normal amount of obsessed with Aziraphale and Crowley.

How many words have you published in 2024?

*goes to ao3 stats page*

*hits "2024"*

...220,232 words

What the whole entire fuck!?

And there's another three chapters left on Scorn to go before New Year's, so we'll comfortably surpass 231k. How in the actual fuck is that possible.

What is your greatest achievement this year?

Getting this comment:

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

Not Single Spies (the third part of Nice And Ominous, which can be read on its own or with the two preceding parts); The Co-pilot; and I'm going to say Scorn and the Saint-Maker, although that's far from finished, because it's been the entirety of my past half-year.

Not Single Spies (part III of Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt) Rated E; 61k words Second Coming/post-S2 fic; plot-driven

A man with pale hair turns up in Saint Peter's Square, naked and without memory, and Crowley's old sense of Aziraphale's location snaps like a twig. Heaven is down another Supreme Archangel—but the new Christ is already on Earth (in France, to be precise) and the Second Coming is well underway. And Crowley works for Hell now, but really, he works for the good of humanity; pulling on every friend he has to stop the end of the world.

There is some smut in this, but it's only three sections and they're all skippable. The rest of the story is rated T with no major warnings.

The Co-pilot Rated E; 4k words Human-ish AU; shameless smut

An un-English heatwave, a few open shirt buttons and the demonic entity possessing an innocent Londoner conspire to make long-time friends Az and Tony finally get over themselves and bone.

Scorn and the Saint-Maker Rated E; 97k words so far (WIP) Human not-actually-AU; sorta-post-S2; plot-driven, smutty, mathsy; four plots in a trench coat

Doctor Crowley has turned truancy into an art form, lecturing only under sufferance. Doctor Fell has signed up for his undergraduate course and has no plans to let him slack off. When a faculty member is found dead, our heroes start forming uneasy suspicions. What was the occult symbol drawn next to the body? Why does it feel like they’ve known each other forever? How is Crowley supposed to tell police that he thinks the murderer is a demon he summoned 35 years ago? And what about that statue that’s the spitting image of the victim?

They've been turned human. Now they're academics in Scotland. Romance, weirdness and (skippable!) smut ensue. The fic has some warnings, so check the tags.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

I had a nasty week in August, when I got depressive symptoms as a side effect of a necessary medication and spent ~10 days convinced everything I did was shit.

I'm also kind of in one at the moment, but without the pharmaceutical explanation/excuse. I'm just... urgh. Things are stuck. It's. It's a thing. Idk.

What have you learned?

You're expecting me to list everything I've learnt related to writing and fandom and fandom writing in less than an entire academic essay? Are you out of your entire mind!? (❤️)

Big things: I've learnt that I do have the capacity to finish big stories; that things I write are good enough that people want to read them and look forward to reading them and give me all these amazing compliments on them and go slightly feral sometimes; and that if I'm enthusiastic enough about maths, I can trick some folks who didn't even like maths into sort of liking maths.

Smaller things: A smattering of fancy vocabulary. How to paint with watercolour. How to draw Michael Sheen's nose and David Tennant's lower lip. The fact that I have a massive praise kink. More than I knew there was to know about em-dashes and en-rules. Heaps of random facts about the Bible, angels, demonology, poetry, Scotland Yard, Shakespeare, wine, dicks, queer identities I don't have, and queer identities I do have. And a bunch about how to watch/read/consume media with my eyes open and my brain switched on.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I still low-key want to continue The Co-pilot into... something. And That Berry Ice Cream from last December has been sort of asking for a follow-up, which just hasn't happened.

I had this idea, shortly after that week in November that the Americans don't like to think about, for something short, snappy, and a little cathartic; a fuck the system-type deal, both to that political shitshow and to all the sad crap fucking over the GO fandom lately, and I started to write it but got stuck not even a thousand words in. Maybe it just wasn't that good of an idea.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I did my first toe-dipping of a beta read just the other month, for Easy Access by @ModernDayKlutz. I've not dared to jump into beta:ing properly for fear that my old flakiness will resurface and make me disappoint a person I've made a promise to, but this one seemed contained enough that I felt I could contribute. Especially with Kilt Knowledge™️.

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

THREE!??!?

All right, so I'm looking through my bookmarks, and, as it turns out, That Fic I Keep Recommending Basically All The Time was one I only read - or at least, finished reading - early this year!

Mint Tea by @copperplatebeech - 31.5k words; rated E - is one of those fics that half the fandom have heard about, right? I don't know if it happened to hit me at a formative point in my fandom life or if it's simply That Good, which is also very likely, but thirsty-well-hung-Dom!Crowley lives in my head for free and will not move out, it seems. It's scorching and funny and sweet, and when I say it gave me the idea to try some... things... which I hadn't tried before, in... certain parts of my life... 🔥🫠

Fanfic, uh... changes lives, y'all! Ahem, well then, onwards:

Come as you are by hiya_angel - 4k words, rated E - this gave me some of the experience reflected in that gorgeous comment above. The angst is minimal and the smut is gorgeous and wonderfully sweet and I adore this fandom for making me feel hope again and again for all this trans stuff that's still comparatively new to me.

Submitted for Your Consideration by @zehwulf - 19k words, rated E - contains possibly the most spectacular description of subspace I've read in... ever? And when it comes to bowling me over with porn, I could probably just pick anything by ZehWulf because whatever story I pick up it ends with me sitting there absolutely sweating. And feeling fuzzy inside. And maybe also crying for joy.

HERE'S A FOURTH ACTUALLY, YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME:

Lucid by @twilightcitysky - 35k words, rated E. It's unfinished and I barely even care at this point, because something about this fic changed me. It's So. Fucking. Good. It's one of those (rare? Not in this fandom! But a little rare, probably) stories where the smut is absolutely plot-crucial. It's also excruciatingly clever and angstier than I thought I would like (I was wrong! I LIKE IT) and the characters are great. And it's written just beautifully.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

More Scorn. (Don't trust the projected chapter count. Knowing myself, there'll be more of them. Or I might be done with less. It's a completely unqualified approximation.)

More Co-pilot, maybe? (I have Ideas.)

A slightly more fantastical fic that goes into a smut genre I haven't really explored at all before. And which has made me research goats' pupils.

Plus, I want to look into making podfics more. Maybe get better at it. Maybe even try out doing voice work for money? (I'm talking to a guy, it's completely wild, but damn it might be a thing I could do)

Who do you want to thank?

@addledmongoose (quite unintentionally) brought me to Tumblr. (She wrote a review of Nice And Ominous, and it was so lovely, I wanted to go there and like it and respond to it properly, so I just had to create an account, you know? No other options.) I'm so glad I'm here.

@bakingcat made excitable comments about my linguistics-nerdery-snuck-into-sex-scene and made me realise you can actually make friends in fandom.

@klikandtuna wrote the fic which I was a completely normal amount of obsessed with this summer, and which led to (via an instance of fanwork of the fanwork) me being flooded with love from strangers one random Friday and getting put in contact with that voice work guy. We also had the most wonderfully grown-up conversation about a tricky thing, for which I am so very proud and grateful.

@harlotofupdog came straight over to read Scorn almost right when I started posting it - I can't quite remember now, but the timing isn't the important bit - and wrote some absolutely glorious comments. D'you know you're the first writer whose work I'd already been painfully obsessed with, who's also expressed obsession with mine? D'you know how bloody cool that is??

And finally the unhinged smutgoblins of The Beta Fishes The Big Fucks server - idk who to thank anymore because I can't recall who invited me (it was past 3am and I'd just watched Michael Sheen shirtless for an hour, you'll have to forgive a guy) but all of y'all are weirdos and I love to hang out with yous and draw dicks and discuss writing and scream about Rivals and definitely not put mustaches on anyone.

No-pressure tags (in addition to everyone tagged above - please feel free to consider yourselves tagged-tagged if you like) without checking who's already been tagged in this before, because that's A Lot of Work that I don't want to do:

@wiblywoblytimeywimey754 @brenna @majnoonathelibrarian annnnd @kiratastic, pretty sure this could be modified to work for an art perspective too? Right? (If you want)

[smolvenger]

Greetings bestie 💖🫡

Requesting a Professor Hiddles story (you can choose what subject he's teaching) where he already has this friendly type of dynamic w/ Reader and she's nervous about finals week and he goes "Tell you what, if you ace all your exams I'll take you out to dinner. Anything you want."

…And then (surprise surprise) she wants to skip all that because she just wants him 🫠🫠

I shall leave spice level entirely up to you 😏

And for some ✨inspiration✨…

Hi bestie! Thank you for requesting a Prof! Tom fic! I loved writing it!

Exam Aid (Prof! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Reader)

Summary: When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation...

Word Count: 5939 (woof)

Warnings: Eventual Smut at the end! NSFW! (Reader is a college student ((if undergrad or graduate that's up to you)) so she's over 18. Dom! Prof Hiddles and Sub! Reader, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, doggy style, doing it in an office. It's super filthy when it gets there, so be warned), mentions of anxiety and insomnia and mental health. My Shakespeare tastes and my IRL English Major college experiences are used and referenced bc it's my indulgent fic too and I do what I want. Some hurt/comfort. Prof Hiddles being both a dom and silly goofy in one fic bc get you a man who can do both.

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss@ijuststareatstuffhereok89@evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "I'm good at more than just kissing" and ends at "He looked at you with a sweet smile", for your comfort, bestie) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr

 It wasn’t the actual week of finals. Oh no, you knew how the drill would go. It was the month or week before. It would be assigned. Every last essay thrown on top of you. And with professors without a touch of reality for students.

“Who the hell has time to read and finish A Tale of Two Cities in two days?!” you thought as you shoved your unabridged copy of Dickens in your bag. Promising yourself to get through as much as you can and then read the Sparknotes summary in the morning. You weren’t immune to it.

Throughout your time in college, you had many a professor. Professors came in varieties. There were creative writing professors who ranged from tiny women who would assign short stories that made no sense to blonde men with glasses and toothy grins who loved it when their male classmates wrote exploitative abuse. Mythology professors with Greek accents and tans. Then there were the mixed bag of literature professors. 

The previous professor of the literature survey for Shakespeare also taught the American Literature Survey course. He was Dr. Rutledge. He wasn’t from this year, or even this reality. Either a wise old sage or a kooky scientist from the movie. He had long, thin grey hair, and wore bow ties with black glasses and thick tweed jackets. He smiled and would speak for hours in a tone half sarcastic, half serious. You knew he would go back home and cozy up with a whole copy of Moby Dick next to a fireplace as he sipped on tea or even scotch if he was feeling adventurous. When he brought up sex and seduction with the Scarlet Letter it was the equivalent of hearing a nun confess her last orgy. 

So when you registered this year for the Shakespeare course, that was the sight you were expecting.

Since the first day in walked someone different. He may have been wearing a suit, but he definitely was not Dr. Rutledge. 

Everyone was gossiping and chattering and sipping on their iced coffees when they fell silent. Every single back stood up straighter at the sight of him. Young, tall, virile. Long, curly reddish blonde hair. A goatee and glasses to show his maturity. Sharp suits that framed every inch of his lean but fit body. Eyes and cheekbones to die for. A jaw so straight it made the men taking the class question if they were.

No introduction of “hi, I’m-” No icebreaker games. He only stepped forward, to his podium. Held onto it, everyone leaned forward. He had all of you in the palm of his hand. Then, with his clear, bright baritone voice, he spoke-

“Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York…”

His voice…something about it. So…rich…Goddammit, he picked that one, the opening speech of Richard the Third. If he picked Romeo’s balcony declaration or something like that, you would be in even more danger of falling onto the floor in a horny heap of suppressed yearning. But no…it was Richard the Third’s monolgoue. Of all the characters he was playing, of all the characters in the Shakespeare canon you could thirst after, it was fucking Richard the Third. Definitely not known as a hunk or even a likable person according to canon. 

But the way he said it- threatening, villainous even. He leaned in and confessed his true feelings about the royal family and his plot to destroy them and rule over them. You could already feel something stirring inside you. And it was eight am in the morning. 

As he finished the monologue, speaking it so naturally it was as if it were his own words, the class burst into applause.

With a casual bow, brushing his curly blonde-red hair out of his face, he introduced himself.

“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston, and I will make this as fun and engaging as a morning class on Shakespeare can be.”

From then on, you enjoyed the class. You tackled it on- after all, you wanted to have some fun. You loved Shakespeare. But Professor Thomas Hiddleston…was a bonus. Thank the lord he wore suits. And if not suits, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up. He might as well as taken it off for you. 

You went through various sonnets. Then explored the poetry- Aphrodite and Lucretia. Then the plays. Even plays that the undergrads thought the most dull he made intriguing. He made everything clear with Shakespeare’s life too himself- how the Bard lost a son named Hamlet. How Shakespeare was accustomed to the great courts and low brothels Prince Hal tasted both of. 

When theatres did productions or there was the odd movie adaptation in theatres, everyone went to go see it. Then he had a showing of lesser-known film adaptations. Showing how Orson Welles framed the shot of Falstaff to make the large knight seem even larger. The Bollywood Othello where at long, long last Emilia survived and she was the one to kill Iago, much to the class’s cheering.

“Are there any other movies we should watch?” he asked.

One kid shot up and suggested Shakespeare in Love. He raised an eyebrow.

“ It was not Shakespeare’s invention to have the lovers die. Romeo and Juliet was a a known story in Elizabethan era England and everyone knew back then that the lovers died. It’s like someone just suggesting that Superman comes from another planet- we all know he does. Not  because of him having an illicit affair as his poor wife was left to raise their surviving children far off and alone!”

“What about Anonymous!?” cried one kid, trying to be cool.

He let out a deep, ragged sigh. 

“There is more than enough evidence to suggest Shakespeare wrote the plays. Every criticism says he can’t write it because he was uneducated. However, if you look, there are hysterical inaccuracies in his geography And no one questions the authorship of Maya Angelou because of her lack of formal education! Just because he was not a nobleman, does not mean he was not aware of things as you are! Every Anti-Stratfordian argument boils down to classicism.” 

It was the best class you took. Having him teach definitely helped. And he would invite people for coffee talks and of course, you would bolt to join. Yet you enjoyed it- seeing him so relaxed. Warm in his coat as everyone circled around to talk about plays they knew of but hadn’t read in this class.

“Well- all of us went through our high schools. We all read Romeo and Juliet- what do you think?” he questioned them one autumnal day. 

“They’re just brats! Ugh!” one guy snarled out.

That you couldn’t take. You set down your drink, glaring at him. 

“They’re not!” you cried out passionately.

Eyes turned forward to you. You wished youcould have slapped him, but you stopped.

“Well, Y/N…why do you think that? Why are they not brats?” the professor asked. 

“I think…the plays aren’t meant to be realistic. Of course, they fall in love immediately- so do Rosamund and Orlando but no one calls them brats! It’s not Romeo and Juliet who get everyone killed! It’s not their love that hurts anyone- it’s just the feud and Paris l thinking he is entitled to Juliet’s body after her supposed death! No one knows about them- only they, the nurse, and the priest know about it! They’re innocent! Juliet calls Romeo her ‘friend!” Her one and only friend! That’s how alone she is without him! They are just innocent victims of a greater scheme. Hamlet and Othello fall prey to their own flaws- but Romeo and Juliet are just two young kids caught in the crossfire!”

You didn’t realize how passionate you were. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment as the class gaped at you. But the Professor was nodding his head. He gave you a small smile as you sat down.

“That was…very good. Next time, use the text and a few sources, and you have yourself a good essay, Y/N,” Professor Hiddleston said.

You liked how he challenged you. He would only want you to do better. He wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass, but he would support you. You would ask after each other. He told you a bit about his life- about how much there was to grade. How he got the job. Little things- but little things only added up to how much you liked him. Even…even…no, you couldn’t you would never say it aloud. But your bedtime fantasies…you were more than mere friends…but that was only for fantasies. 

You tried to let those regular Shakespeare classes comfort you. But finals were taking a toll on your sleep, and your health. You were so wound up and stressed, trying to read and perfect essays that you had trouble going to bed. Your brain kept churning- unable to think of anything else but your work. You couldn’t realx- you worked so hard to get into this school, this degree. If you didn’t pass then…you would be a failure and all that work to go to this school would be for nothing. 

At least after a sleepless night, you had something to look forward to- to distract yourself. But even lately in those classes, you curled into yourself. The heaviness of your exhaustion and the jolt of your anxiety over finals in an unending cycle of misery. You were so…tired…and done…and drained…you knew it would pass with time…

After class, as everyone filed out, Professor Hiddleston walked over to where you slowly gathered your things. He held out a hand to you.

“What is it, Y/N? You’re usually smiling and happy here. But you seem very grave lately…has something happened?”

You shook your head.

“Not really just…finals…I want to do well. I can’t get C’s- I want to do them perfectly! I want to! I want this degree! Now I…I’m so scared of failing…I wanted this school so much, now I…I…” you began to mutter.

You felt tears wriggling out of your eyes, and your breath shook as you uselessly tried to hold them back. He handed you tissues from his coat pocket. You felt like a trashbag- crying in front of this fucking Greek God. But he looked at you kindly. You wiped your eyes. Snot threatened to release from crying and you blew your nose. Ugh, he would think you were especially gross after that. But his gentle smile did not change. You wrapped up the tissues and tossed them aside- then he handed you the little plastic package.

“Is it mansplaining if I give you some advice?” he asked.

“Oh, no…it’s not…” you said. 

“Break your studies apart, Y/N. Ten little minutes at a time. A break. Then ten more. If you take time to focus, it will help you. Or if you make it fun and play music or make little drawings, then you have a picture as well…I know it means a lot…but if you rest, you will recover…and you must think smart, not hard,” he advised.

“Okay…” you nodded.

“Y/N, there are counselors here…they will help you and you don’t have to pay anything. They; 've helped me, and so many others, they should help you…” he suggested. He got out pamphlets from a corner of his desk to give to you. 

“I’ll see one…Why are you so kind to me?” you asked impulsively, looking up.

He put his hands in his pockets, glancing down, and then back up.

“If I may be frank, you remind me so much of myself when I was a student. I had a thesis I had to write on Shakespeare’s problem plays…and it consumed me. I wish someone had given me that advice at that time-I only want you to suffer a little less. Don’t be so hard on yourself- like I was on me…”

You nodded up at him, adjusting the straps of your bag and gathering your things in your arms. 

 “And I’ll..I’ll make it fun- I’ll think of a reward for after…” you said.

He placed his hands in front of him, his lips tightening, and then in a rushed exhale, he spoke. 

“Y/N…how would you…you…you like dinner? After finals?”

You perked your head up. Was this real? You blinked at him, saying nothing.

“Y/N…make me a bet…Go to counseling, break apart your studying, get through your finals, and do as well as you can…and I will take you out to dinner, how does that sound?” he asked.

You smiled at him, your heart beating fast. But yet…you were touched. You put a hand over your chest and released an exhale.

“Professor that…that sounds wonderful…” you answered.

“Ah, excellent. Now- is that a deal?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

You gave him a smile and a small laugh.

“It’s a deal,” you replied.

You managed to get a counseling session scheduled for tomorrow. You went inside, sat, met the kind therapist, and smiled as you vented and cried out your feelings. When you went back to where you lived and spent your emotions, you crashed onto the bed. It was the best nap you had ever taken. 

You followed his advice. You broke down studying or writing essays and researching. You took more breaks. You had made flashcards with doodles for the tests and were catching on quickly. Your research was more fruitful and your essays were getting better in your eyes. You found you slept a bit better at night.

Each day as you sat in at 8 am, the Professor would smile at you and nod. You felt more like yourself again despite the looming deadlines. And they didn’t seem like a matter of life or death anymore. 

Everyone knows the week before finals are hell. To study and work so much with no time off from usual classes. But… you would still miss that 8 a.m. Shakespeare survey- and the handsome professor in his suits.

“Y/N, don’t be scared- you will be phenomenal,”  He gave you a wink that turned you into jelly.

Damn him. To think you would have dinner with him. You turned around to peek at him erasing the markerboard and glimpsing his curved bum,  how his hair curled at the back, and his broad back.

Yeah, now that was motivation to do well.

You studied and wrote with enthusiasm. You completed it all in due time. The essays were to your satisfaction.  When you settled at night, you cuddled his pillow. Remembering his smell- be it his shampoo or cologne, the mild, citrus scent. Fantasizing about him. Of dancing slowly at a formal event with you in an evening gown. Feeling his hand on your back and his head lowering down to touch your forehead. Of sharing ice cream. Being a damsel in distress for him to rescue. Then you thought of his body…. And the images changed to something naughtier. Wearing short skirts and showing up to his class. And him noticing. And lifting it up…

You conked right to sleep.

Finals week began. The entire campus knew it was stressful and went ridiculously out of their way to cheer up the students. But it was a lot of fun, you had to admit. Having dogs on campus to pet. Discounts on coffee. That Monday morning the cafeteria was packed with the free breakfast they offered. Once you brave the long lines for free food, you headed out to your first final. 

Professors, to your amusement, dotted around the campus. If they didn’t have a class to be in, they were handing little care packages while dressed in silly costumes. The sight amused you and made you smile.

Then walking up, you turned to the right and jumped at the sight with a happy, surprised gasp that became laughter. Professor Hiddleston himself wore a light, frilly tutu made for girls a quarter of his age over his pants, little costume fairy wings over his shirt,  and had a headband with little stars on top like ears. 

He turned towards you and his face turned bright pink. 

“Professor Hiddleston! What is this?!” you asked.

He opened up his arms to present his silly costume.

“We’re doing our anti-stress events! I am here to provide you with help with your stress!” he announced theatrically.

You put your hands akimbo and surveyed his costume up and down. If the class knew, they would lose it.

“And you’re doing it?!” you asked.

“Why not! I’m not a stick in the mud all the time! I can have fun!”

You laughed again.

“I should take a picture and send you to the group chat of our class!”

“I don’t see why not!”

He posed as you took a picture. 

“And how are you feeling?”

“I feel better! Much better now- I feel like I’m ready…”

“Good! It will be done soon! A bit at a time!”

He handed over a stress-free care package. Exchanging smiles, you continued by with a lighter step in your shoes. 

You went to every test outside of the pre-written essay. You knew what to do as you wrote short essays for the tests. You didn’t completely panic and wrote them as well as you could. When it came to every exam,  you felt you knew and understood the material. The week flew by. 

Sure enough, on that Friday, with shaking hands and a turning stomach, you looked up your grades. Taking in a breath right when the clock hit noon, you tapped a shaking finger on the mouse.  The link buffered on your computer to view them. Then it lit up with revelation. 

You passed them. You passed them all. In fact, you did very well. 

Your heart was racing but—you realized…you didn’t have his number. Only his email address. With the still nervous feeling…you emailed him, your professor.

“Hello Professor,

My grades were announced- and they’re all spectacular. I passed all of them. So…you made that promise…are you available for dinner?”

You sent it off. You could only ruminate for five minutes- his response was quick. 

“Of course, dear Y/N…

Here’s my number below… Meet me in my office. The parking lot isn’t far from it.”

You managed to text him immediately. You were giggling and pacing your room like a high schooler as your phone buzzed with his responses.  You re-read them as you paced about with your phone in your face. The high of your crush floating you into the clouds. You were going to go to a nice restaurant- one wasn’t finalized yet, but something nice. And that meant you had to look the part!

You were so excited. You made sure your makeup was how you liked and that your hair looked clean. You put on a part dress-one with a shorter skirt. It was too perfect not to. It was cut only a little low to show some mild cleavage. The collar was wide enough so that it showed your collarbones. It was nice, but flirtatious and romantic. It hugged you in a perfect fit while making you feel amazing and sexy. 

Sure enough, you went over to his office. The place was abandoned. All offices and buildings on the Friday of the Finals are in the early evening. You walked over and knocked on the door.

He opened the door and your heart almost stopped.

He was lovely. In his suit. His curls and that slutty goatee combed. Smelling fresh and clean. He still was in his blue suit- bringing out the blue in his eyes. Loving, beautiful.

“Ah, Y/N- please, come in,” he welcomed.

You followed suit. He closed the door. There was a second where you just looked at each other. Despite his goatee, you saw him biting his lip.

“Now, how about that dinner, Y/N…” he offered. “There’s La Gardeniera-suitable. A nice place for a special occasion as this…”

You gave him a shrug.

“I don’t care…anywhere…” you replied. 

“Anywhere? ” he asked.

He put his hands in his pocket and looked at you. It was a simple office- white and brown as many are. There was a bright window, the blinds turned over, as the setting sun’s rays fell over it. There was a small bust of Shakespeare and a pitcher with cups of water. His desk had a neat stack of papers, and annotated books all over it. Cozy and comfortable- like how he made you. 

“I just…I want to be with you…I don’t mind. Take me to a McDonalds and I won’t care…” you went on.

“Y/N…I…me?” he asked.

“Yes, you! We don’t even have to eat or…to, uh…I just…” the words were failing you and you felt your heart pick up. You looked down at the floors and then back up at him. 

“You want to…to be with me…” he walked forward curiously. But you did not retreat. Did not back away. You only met him in his blue eyes, welcoming him.

“Y/N…are you sure?” he asked.

He took a step closer. He was right before you. And you did not retreat. You met his gaze. So close. The tension between you.

“Professor Hiddleston, I am sure…I just want to be with you…anywhere…you just…make me happy…” you finally confessed.

“You make me happy too…” he murmured

He leaned forward, seeking permission. You gave a shaky nod. 

Then he kissed you.

 Something in you released. So long it was boxed up- now wild and free.  He immediately took his hands and ran them up and down you and you held onto him in the kiss. Feeling him as he deepened it with the wet sound of lips. Grabbing onto each other, releasing what had been held for so long. He released and then kissed you-again, then again. Like he was drowning and you were air. 

“Mphm- what-what were the grades?” he asked before kissing again.

You caught your breath and took a break still close to his lips. 

“Passed them. Flying colors,” you reported.

 He kissed you again, moaning into it. Then he broke it again.

“Well now…my little student…doing so well…” he rasped.

You grabbed him and heart racing you felt him kiss you. His facial hair scratched against you. He kissed you back. He backed you up.

“You’ve been…good…” he breathed, pressing you there into it. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. 

“Mphm- this feels…feels so nice…you’re a good kisser,” you whispered.

“I’m good at more than just kissing, my dear-”

He held you, pulling you close. He backed you to the door-holding you against him. He then reached a hand and turned over the lock. It was sealed with a click. His hands then returned to you. He cupped your cheeks, then it slid down your neck, and your chest, and then settled on your wasit. 

“I’ve…I’ve…God, I’ve wanted you so much…I…I don’t know if I…think I can…hold back…my dear, I-I-if you’re not…not ready, I’ll-”

“I don’t want to leave yet- let’s wait for dinner-take me. Fuck me here, now,” you begged. 

You didn’t need to say any more than that.  ou shuddered. He found your skirt and touched your leg, lifting it up. Feeling your skin, cold from exposure.

“All this…is all for me now…”

His hand reached over your leg. His long fingers possessively gripped each bit of flesh. Enjoying it- feeling you for the first time. Treasuring you and making his mark- you were his and his alone. He wrapped an arm around you and lifted you up onto that door. You let out a sound He then took your leg and guided it to wrap around his waist, holding onto him. You were so dripping wet you could feel his pants brushing your soaked panties. He held you easily-so, so easily. Just muscle and wall holding you and keeping you in place. He managed to lift you up- keeping you up with how pressed he was to you. How warm. Keeping him on you.

Your lips crashed again. You kept touching him. One hand finally touching his hair- his beautiful, long curls. The other kissing into him. In his suit, he began to ground against you now that you had nowhere to go away- not that you would leave. He kissed you with tongue and fire. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back, wet noises and messy, desperate need.

“Tom…Tom, I-” you murmured.

He touched your chin, shushing you.

“We’re still in my office, my dear. And you will call me Professor,” he said.

He reached a hand down- feeling hte seat of your soaked panties. Smiling from teh effect already.

“Yes…yes, I will…” you breathed out. 

“Now- my little angel. She did so well…and she comes to me, so needy…so desperate-first for her finals and now for my cock-”

You held onto him, touching his tie. Pulling him up. You felt his erection stretching through his pants. The hooded eyes and soft voice, his hot breath. You gave him a smile- eager to have him. 

“I’m going to rip your clothes off and fuck you senselessly- and I want you- I never heard a thank you- I want to hear your gratitude for how I take care of you in every way…how does that sound? Too much for you?”

“It sounds wonderful for me-Professor,” you purred in response.

He wrapped an arm to help you up and carried you- legs around his waist.

. He then backed you over to his desk. He kept one by you- so close, so close. He took a hand and shoved aside the books and papers. It didn’t matter- now there was you. 

He pulled up your skirt. Desperately trying to find the zipper. Almost shaking in his long fingers. His erection seeping through his pants- he was so pent up.

“All that time. Wanting you. Feeling you near. Do you know how many nights I had to jerk off to imagine this- you! Seeing you- feeling you right there- my little beauty, angel, and siren at once.”

He shoved your dress off and down. Now in your bra and underwear. His hands went to under your straps- feeling them already- his bare flesh on your bare flesh. You were backed there.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you what?” he asked darkly.

“Th-thank you, Professor.”

He kissed you again. You were his little pet, his toy, his plaything. And you would please him- You held onto his shoulders. Grinding more into his body, He was still. Yet you heard his breaths, catching in his chest. He still remained clothed. 

Then in a rush, he gripped your bra.

“You won't need these- not with me.”

With a strength that made you gasp, He ripped your bra in half. He breasted so fast, panting like a beast. Looking down at your breasts.  Both large hands fondled them, moving them around. 

“Th-Thank you, Professor,” you whispered.

“But there’s one thing- one thing keeping me- from what I need” he growled.

He reached down, and in a second, he ripped your panties apart again in half. You gasped at the feeling. The cloth in two- uselessly falling apart.

“No bra- no panties when I see you -easier access- do you understand…I have a need for you, do you get it-”

“Yes- yes, sir.”

“Close- but not it. You forgot. And you’ll be punished.”

He turned you around, so your bare ass was shown. He immediately spanked you hard- it clapped around you. You let out a shout.

“It’s thank you-Professor.”

“Thank you Professor!” you cried out, feeling the sting. 

“And you will get it right!”

He spanked you again, harder. The momentum made you move against the desk, feeling your ass move with it. And feeling his greedy eyes all over your exposed skin.

“Th-Thank you, Professor!” you cried.

He pulled you back up but kept your back to his chest. He kissed your cheek, fondling you from behind, whispering in your ear.  

“If you don’t want another punishment-Tell me what I am-”

“You-you’re my-my-”

The words failed you. He leaned you down again and spanked you.

“You’re my professor!”

He spanked you again.

“Say it again- and say thank you-”

“Yes- yes- thank you, Professor…”

He grazed over you. Feeling you. You were catching your breath. Dripping so hard. He put his hands against your inner legs. 

“The more I do this- the more I see you, the more I’m with you, the more you- you torture me. I can’t stand it- I-I have to have you, Y/N- I have to, I have to-do you- do you want-”

You lightly turned your head over to see him and could have gasped. 

He unzipped his pants and lowered them. Already his cock was large and twitching. It leaked so much, that his precum made you shiver. It drizzled down and made a path down his leg. You clutched onto the desk, smiling and bracing yourself. 

“Yes- take me- take me on your desk, Professor…”

He smiled, and then his hand made you bend over it again. ‘

“Spread. Your. Legs.”

You were such a horny querying mess, he touched your legs so that they spread for him. Then finally, you felt him at your entrance, and inside. 

You let out a long groan- and so did he. As he got in - inch by inch. 

“Yes- yes all-ah!” you cried out as he got all of himself in you. 

He eased you in at first. Your legs again over. He gave a few gentle, experimental thrusts. It was slow, even sloppy. Each intrusion, poking you inside. You were making an appreciative groan. You ground your hips further against him. The room was hot and smelled thick with sex.

“There…you can take…take all your professor's cock, can you?” he growled.

“Yes-yes I can..”

He then made a sharp thrust inside and you cried out.

“Oh!”

He then experimented- hips rolling towards your ass. You let out sounds like you never heard yourself make. He then had a hand to keep you down. To keep you down And then he began to pick up. Slamming into you. Keeping you still, close, on him. 

“Nrg-nrgh- yes-there-fuck-there’s my-myfuck- good litlte student-nrgh-want to please me- hrng-begging-begging to-shit-yes-yes-darling-begging for me-”

You were moaning into it. Your body shakes forward and back from his thrusts. You felt yourself spiraling. Then he slowed. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. The pleasure was at a standstill, you caught your breath as you heard his hot voice right beside you.

“You have another order- cum only when I’m about to-cum when I tell you- yes?” he demanded

“Yes!”

“Yes, are you grateful!” He moved his hands to feel your arms. 

“I am- th-tahnk you, Pr-Professor.”

He went back up and began to thrust again. Slow- then medium. You let out those pornographic sounds out as he did.

“Fuck- what you do to me, darling,” he breathed out. 

He let out another gasp, his voice itching up in a groan and then back down. Then he slammed into you, letting out a loud voice. 

“Who is going to let you cum?  Who lets you cum when you’re a good girl?” he rasped. 

“My-my- fuck-professor will- will let me-cum-yes!

“Not yet- not yet-mine is-if-fuck, it’s building.-”

He spread your legs wide and entered you. Then he grabbed your hips. He began to pound into you. The desk shaking- the wall quivering. Slamming against that wall with a thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. He whimpered your name. You clung onto it, your knuckles popping out of you.

“Yes-Yes you are-beautiful little student- you are-g-grateful- fuck.-tight-so tight- shit-”

He was so deep, just rutting into you. He was an animal. Pure fucking you into the desk You felt the itch of his suit- the deepness of it. The papers scrambling away- scratching you. The pure ecstasy of it.

“And” thrust “tell me-” thrust “tell me this”- thrust “darling-”

He laced a hand, it reached your folds. You let out a whimper. He dug around- two fingers in-already feeling you. God- you weren’t going to last. He wasn’t going to like it, but you weren’t going to last. You let out a whimper as you felt him inside you.

“What” thrust “ is it” thrust”- “what is it- good” thrust “good girls do- ”thrust

“They-they-they get to-to-to come, Professor-”

“Yes! Yes-you're at my-my limit-gods-gods- what you do to me-You’ve been good-so good- I can’t-I can’t-so cum, darling-”

He strummed you. And you let out another intense gasp. He was strumming you. His fingers making you more open, his cock in, out, in out. You felt it build- he played with your clit so much. Trying the right place, You felt it rise, but not there. And he kept thrusting. A frustration in his rasp.

“Yes- dammit- why won’t you now? Why won’t-won’t you cum?! Cum, dammit- cum- darling- fuck, fuck- god- yes, gods, I’m there…I’m getting there, cum, dammit- why won’t you cum…”

With a new fury, he pounded against you into the desk- the filthiest, most intense thing you felt. The pleasure building up you, going up, up about to be out of control. 

“I’m- I’m going to-I’m going to-I’m going to cum, professor I-I-I”

It would spiral up, yes, but you had yet to reach it. You ground your hips further, moving from his thrusts, as his fingers were there- finding you at the still of your high and just needing your brink.

“Yes- God, yes-cum, darling-I order you, your professor orders you-Yes- yes, cum, girl, dammit- do it, cum, darling- fuck, I’m about to- do it- CUM!” he deamnded like a yell.

With a last shout you cried- “PROFESSOR!” and you came.

Spiraling down from the pleasure. It broke into chills over you-your voice left you and yet your heart was racing. You could feel him gushing into you and yet you could also feel the cum from your own body between your legs, on his fingers.  He panted. He then moved you over. You saw his hair wild and arrayed. You moved it out of his face.

He looked at you with a sweet smile then took your hand and kissed it. He sat you down on a chair and took off his jacket- putting it over you like a cape. Then he went over and got you a glass of water from the pitcher. 

His voice had softened, he kept touching your face, checking for any accidental bruises or marks.

 “How are you? Are you…are you alright, Y/N? I didn’t go too…too-”

“You were perfect- it was perfect,” you replied with a smile. The water wasn’t super cold- but it was fresh. 

He let out a sigh of relief. He then cupped your cheek. 

“You should see yourself how I see you. You’re glowing. Absolutely glowing-I had only hoped you were…were happy with it…”

He looked down at the ruined bra and panties.

“I’ll buy you another…” he muttered in apology.

“Oh- an orgasm and dinner and new bra and panties? You spoil me rotten already!” you teased.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and then he helped you back to dressing. 

“Here-we could…go back to my place and order something. At this rate, it might get late. I’m not that good of a cook-I was hoping a restaurant would impress you. I hope you don’t mind…”

“How could I, Professor?” you added, taking your hand in his. 

[iamnmbr3]

I was reading the wiki page on Occlumency for a fic and now I'm even more confused why JKR thinks Draco can't be redeemed (or whatever she's said on it, I don't care too much for her words).

She literally acknowledges in a quote that Draco is so good at Occlumency because he can compartmentalise his feelings well, and gave as an example that he's such a 'good' bully (good is kind of contested because I really don't think he was that good lol) because he can suppress the pity he feels. Like, she basically says that he does feel bad for (some) of the things he did (or at least has the capacity to), and he just forces it down. I'd imagine an actually 'good' bully wouldn't even feel pity to begin with.

She also says he shut down his compassion to be a good DE, which really just sounds like he tried to shut it down and failed in the end, because he's awful at being actually cruel and doing things the other DEs do. And overall, most people don't hold out for very long when they're actively suppressing or shutting down emotions, and I honestly think it's very possible that Draco struggled more and more with that near the end of the War until it all fell apart at some point.

Of course, this is all just post-books quotes, and fuck JKR, but it's so interesting that she acknowledges that he can (and maybe actively does) feel pity and compassion, which would be such a good set up for a redemption arc imo!

I'm mostly asking this here because your analyses are amazing and you're by far my favourite drarry blog (even though this is only Draco, oops), but I'm curious what you think of this since I don't think you've said anything on this yet (correct me if I'm wrong lol, I could be).

yeah exactly. (for those who don't know - on wizarding world there's this whole long incredibly pretentious and condescending essay that she wrote about how draco didn't get a redemption arc and fans better not like him or else which is hugely contradictory and literally describes how he got a redemption arc - and drops some cool additional lore that makes him even more interesting and complicated - all while trying to get fans not to care. it's wild.) a while ago i started a meta breaking it down but I never got around to finishing it. I really should dig it up.

and yeah I think that whole essay provides great additional backstory that adds depth and interest to draco's character (love the bit about him keeping dark arts relics in a glass cabinet as a reminder - to look at and never use) and is literally the opposite of what jkr wants it to be. she literally describes how he had doubts and had to suppress parts of himself to go along with something he knew was wrong (something that bellatrix or even lucius very obviously didn't have to do) and how ultimately his morals won out, he spent the rest of his life regretting his actions, and fought with his family in order to raise his son with different values. I.e. he CHANGED HIS MIND AND HIS ACTIONS...aka a redemption arc.

the essay is great till jkr concludes with 'so this is why draco is irredeemably evil and fans shouldn't like him'. um ??? the??? why didn't u write him that way???? her lack of self awareness is bizarre.

[i4bellingham]

ATTENTION: pablo gavi x reader

SYNOPSIS: in you're stumped with school works and gavi just wants you to spare him some time for cuddles.

NOTE: my first ever gavi fic hooray! *pops confetti* i literally wrote this instead of fixating my time to do my school works but i realized that school works doesn't give me a peace of mind unlike writing fanfiction does so of course i’d rather be here than do my school stuff-

If he could burn the pile of folders and papers stacked on your study table, Gavi definitely would.

But since he knows that it's important that you finish them and submit those papers to whichever nuisance gave them to you in the very first place, Gavi simply scoffed, pouted his lips, crossed his arms over his chest before the door closed right in front of his face.

You literally closed the door in front of him when he's sulking because hey! He can behave himself when you're studyingㅡ or doing those god forsaken school works.

You didn't have to shut him out, but you did. And that made the 18 year old frown even more before walking away, deciding to stay in the living room instead.

On the other hand, you began filing the papers that were due at an earlier date, placing them to your right and separating the rest to the left.

It was such a pain in the ass but you needed to graduate, at least one between you and Gavi needs to finish their studies for the sake of your future, your own future. And it's immediately concluded that it'd be you, seeing as how much Gavi already flourishes in his sport.

And you wanted to make a name for yourselfㅡ not wanting to be known simply as Gavi’s significant other when you know you can pave a way for your own success, hence why you're trying your best in college.

You are aware of Gavi's current disposition after you slammed the door shut in front of his face.

He had the tendency to be a tad bit overdramatic, clingy and just borderline possessive of your time and attention. He wants all of it to be directed to him but after a few months of competing with your resolute drive to do well in your studies, he had to make the adjustments in himself.

And as much as it pains him, he's actually very proud that you're steering your path to where you want it to. No matter if he has to fight inanimate papers for you to pay a semblance of attention to him, Gavi is happy and proud of you, knowing well that college in general wasn't an easy path to take and you're diving into it with determination and confidence.

Sighing, you began flipping through your tasks, wanting to finish a good portion of it just as much as you boyfriend.

-

It wasn’t until 4 hours later since you've started, already managing to finish 5 activities and 2 drafts for your literary essays when your phone pinged.

-

from: gavi 💛

around what time are you gonna pay attention to me?

-

You snort, pausing from stapling your papers as you lean back on your chair. You began typing your reply.

-

to: gavi 💛

i literally just talked to you not even 20 minutes ago when you brought me food

-

from: gavi 💛

SO?????

-

You chuckle, picturing him rolling his eyes at your response.

-

to: gavi 💛

just how much attention do you need pablo? 🙄

from: gavi 💛

ALL OF IT??? IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION

-

You shake your head, closing your phone before pocketing it and then turning the lights to your desk lamp off.

You stretched your body for a few minutes, releasing a groan when you hear your joints cracking before walking over to the door, twisting the knob open and letting yourself out.

Gavi was lying down on the sofa when you reached the living room, feet on the back rest with his head hanging at the edge of the seat.

“You’ll get dizzy when you stay in that position for much longer Gavi.”

Gavi turns his head to you with a sigh. “You were gone for hours.”

“Well I'm here now aren't I?” You pat his cheek, moving to sit down next to him.

Gavi lays his head on your lap, throwing his phone on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I was bored.” You can almost hear the pout in his voice as he close his eyes, nuzzling his face on your stomach as you began running your fingers through his hair.

“When are you ever not bored?”

“When you're with me.” He immediately replies. “I don’t get bored when you're with me.”

You roll your eyes playfully, throwing your head back against the soft cushion. “What do you peg me for? A comedian? A clown?”

“A nice company.” He tilts his head, chuckling at the way your mouth went agape at his answer.

You clear your throat before flicking his forehead.

“You’re such a smooth talker aren't you?”

Gavi grabs your free hand, kissing each knuckles before placing it over his cheeks.

“Just with you...”

You don't say anything, you don't comment on how red his own cheeks had gotten. He doesn't say add anything too.

Gavi pats the space beside him, silently asking you to lay with him and you silently do. He reaches a hand out to brush away the stray hair that fell on your face, letting you adjust yourself comfortably beside him with your head now over his chest.

Gavi wraps an arm around you, entangling your feet together before he leans down to kiss your forehead while rubbing slow circles on your back.

The two of you don’t say anything for a while, letting the silence prevail as you bask in the company of the otherㅡ Gavi's need for attention finally solved.

[chasedeys]

do you write any rpf, like on Ao3? I’m new so idk if you’ve posted about it or not but IM LITERALLY OBSESSED with your answers to any anon ask. I would read a whole ten page essay from you about joemarr and im not joking. anyways, i love anything you post!!

hiiiiii loveeeee, thank you for liking my thoughts on joemarr!!! kind of self conscious abt it honestly bc im drawing up conclusions abt them technically without any basis but yeah 😭❤️ (also english is very much not my first language so i struggle to word things so saying you'd read a 10 page essay from me is very <33333)

i have written and posted 1 (one) fic and its a ja'marr gets nipple piercings fic lmaooo and opposite to the way it sounds it's not even horny or even tender horny its just like full of love and devotion ahaha no but really don't expect much please

some extra under the cut wkwkwk

SORRY BUT im taking advantage of this ask to add a whole unfinished 2k- jumble of another fic i was working on but probably won't finish bc the lack of full understanding of how contract and free agency works and like refusal to actually research shit bc i get stupid sad thinking about it so:

Joe stares down the stretch of the field, Ja’Marr standing by the rest of the receivers laughing as Chuck and Andrei try to playfully (....maybe) murder each other via sumo wrestling moves that are definitely not regulation. He’s just wearing tights today for bottoms–so the delicious tautness of his thighs are free for Joe to gaze hungrily at. Truck, 30 yards in front of him very patiently waiting to catch his warm-up throws, has cleared his throat three times in the past 45 minutes for Joe to tear his eyes away from Ja’Marr Chase and throw the damn ball.

It’s torture. It’s love, devotion.

It’s disgusting levels of Down Bad.

(joe gets introspective throughout practice post ravens lost yada yada they go back home, joe invites jamarr for sudden cheat day meal at like 2 am)

Ja’Marr shows up in his front door bleary eyed and sleep rumpled. He’s decked in thick flannel pajama pants that absolutely do not look cheap, dark grey geaux tigers hoodie with purple LSU letters that clashes with the red of his pants, last season’s bengals beanie that also clashes with the rest of his outfit colors, and gucci slides…that also clash with the rest of the outfit. It’s a mismatched sort of vulnerability that twists up Joe’s insides. Here’s his north star wrapped up in all the things Joe cherishes.

Ja’Marr turns up his nose when he finally finishes yawning right at Joe’s face and notices Joe with his raised eyebrow looking up and down amusedly at his outfit.

“Shut up,” he says. “It’s a 2 am non-party night. Like hell I’m dressing up pretty for you.”

Ja’Marr’s always pretty to Joe, but that’s fine.

“I didn’t say anything.” Joe replies back, moving to the side so Ja’Marr can drag his feet inside the threshold, “I don’t judge you for your fashion taste.”

Joe cleverly dodges the foot being kicked back to his side. Amazing reflexes, of course.

“Where’s this hearty meal you promised me?” Ja’Marr just talks loudly over the dig Joe makes at him.

“On its way. DoorDash says it’s 7 minutes out.”

“Did you get extra cream soup?”

“Yeah, of course.”

(yada yada some banter some cute shit wanted to describe them sitting in joes billion dollar custom renovated kitchen that i would stress out is 'modern and kitschy' with different shades of pink for accents)

He’s been making insane catch-and-runs, Joe reflects. Offers to his agent would be stacking up starting next year, his last year in his contract with Cincinnati.

“It would be easier.” Joe says, throat cramping. “If you want to trade.”

Ja’Marr’s hands stutter and his stupid little butter knife clatters to the table.

“What?”

Joe darts his eyes to the other man, a millisecond glance and he’s gazing back to his ice cream. The receiver’s voice had been harsh, choked up in surprise. Joe feels his insides curdle even worse.

“Just–” he starts, a mess of thoughts jumbled in his head, “if you wanted to. I would understand. Your stats are amazing. If Duke’s still gunning to be an idiot and wait for your contract to dry up before resigning, you can–”

Here he pauses. Saying things makes it real. Saying they’re not a championship level team made him want to gouge his eyes out. Saying how Ja’Marr could leave him would possibly end his life as he knows it.

But Ja’Marr deserves to know Joe won’t hold him back. He refuses to. So:

“If you want, you can sign up for free agency. Next season.”

Well.

Ja’Marr’s face is heartbreaking to see. Joe feels the corner of his mouth drag down, his eyes are fucking burning, his throat is closing up, his hands are clammy, his ears are ringing, his neck is cold but his head is on fire.

“Do you–” Ja’Marr starts, but his voice is cracking, so he has to start over again. He’s scrunching his eyes shut and his mouth is quivering and Joe feels like he’s clumped up dirt under a needlessly expensive boot. 

Twice this season now he’s caused Ja’Marr to look like this. At least this time he’s not pushing him physically, but with the way Ja’Marr’s trembling all over this might just be worse. God, Joe can’t even blame being in Kansas City for this. This time, Ja’Marr isn’t hiding from the thousands of eyes scrutinizing him from the bleachers, from across the field, from the houses of unknown fans through LED screens. The agony is clear in the widening of his eyes and the curl of his mouth and the crack of his voice. 

“Do you not want me?”

Just the barest whisper like Ja’Marr’s vocal cords has up and left. Joe feels insane thinking of the heart-clenching anymore? Ja’Marr doesnt say.

Joe’s mouth falls open but no sound comes out. There isn’t a single universe in the hypothetical collection of potentially diverse multiverses Joe believes in, that a Joe Burrow wouldn’t want Ja’Marr Chase to stay by his side. But would saying this to the other be right? 

He takes too long to answer. Ja’Marr’s face shuts down, going cold.

“Wow, okay, fuck you.”

Joe flinches back at the viciousness of the curse. He has never once in his life been the direct recipient of Ja’Marr’s brand of tiger claws defense, teeth sharp, no mercy. 

“I cannot believe you. I thought we were fine now! We’re on the same page again! I leave that contract bullshit behind, you fixed your anxiety over your wrist, but, what, another fucking shitty pick and you don’t think I got it anymore? Fucking free agency, shut your stupid fucking mouth, Joe Burrow, before I do something I regret.”

Joe’s hands automatically flashes to settle the plates rattling when Ja’Marr abruptly stands up and slams his hands to the table. He’s looking up at him now, still sitting down on the bright pink stool in his billion dollar kitschy kitchen with Ja’Marr Chase looming over him in fury.

“I followed you here! To fucking Ohio. I hated the idea of even stepping foot in this state before I fell in love with this fucking city! I did it because of you! I have said multiple fucking times that I’m not leaving you. I said to the fucking media that you were like a god to me, are you fucking kidding me? I bullshitted my way through all those disgusting interviews trying not to say the wrong thing and still having people say I’m stalking you or some shit because I can’t help word-vomitting over you! I have been this fucking close–” 

Ja’Marr shoots his right hand up right in the space between them, pressing his thumb and pointer finger so close the skin whitens.

“–to saying to fucking Hobs that I’m ass over tits in love with you! And now you’re telling me it’ll be alright if I leave? That it'll be easier? Just because, what, this stingy ass poverty franchise doesn’t know how to handle its players unless they’re you? That we keep losing even when you throw fucking bullets and I run across the entire fucking field from endzone to the endzone for 60 points? Joe Lee Burrow, I swear if I loved you less I would kill you.”

Ja’Marr finishes his rant with another slam on the table like he needs one more outlet for his anger. He’s heaving breaths, tears running down his cheeks (god, no), face all twisted up. Through Joe’s frozen state, he could see Ja’Marr’s face pale rapidly as he fully realizes what he’s said. Mouth always running a full minute over his brain.

God.

Joe stands wobbly quick when Ja’Marr stumbles around the table towards the kitchen doors.

For all that Joe unashamedly lies over how fast he is–(’i am fast, ja’marr. I can outrun you.’ ‘be so for real right now.’)–he can never outpace Ja’Marr. But for this one thing–this one thing–Joe slams against a blurring Ja’Marr and uses the momentum and extra inches and pounds he’s got over the man to cage him against the nearby fridge.

Ja’Marr yelps as his back rattles against the fridge doors, magnets and receipts and photos and post-it notes not trapped between him and the door fall to the floor. One of those brightly colored humanoid magnets slam against Joe’s left toe. A polaroid of Joe and his Mom somehow balances perfectly right on top of Ja’Marr’s head before fluttering away when Ja’Marr shakes his head in furious disbelief. His beanie had fumbled off his head in the initial tackle, lying on the ground right next to Joe’s right foot. 

Joe’s left hand is pinning his man’s right shoulder against the fridge door, hips flushed against him, a leg between his thighs, right arm tucked against the side of Ja’Marr’s waist, face right up against each other like every other overly enthusiastic helmet slam in the field after a ridiculous yard run–but there’s no helmet this time, and there’s no reason for Joe to hide how his eyes slide down the length of Ja’Marr’s face to his lips, letting his gaze linger deliberately long.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Ja’Marr blusters, cheeks going deep red, eyes pinballing widely over Joe’s own features (to his lips even! how exciting.), hands curling on each of Joe’s elbows with his nails biting down through the thick fabric of his sweatshirt over his skin. “What, are you going to hit me? Break my heart? You already did, asswipe, no need to be an annoying overachiever this time! Get off of me, I swear–”

“I don’t want you to go. I never want you to leave. Ever.” Joe cuts him off brutally. Let this be the firmest truth he’s ever said in his life. “I asked you to come here. I always want to play football with you. I always want random midnight DoorDash dinners with you. You keep saying insane shit about me in interviews, have you heard me talk about you? The last KC presser I had to hold back saying I hurt you in front of 50 people sitting down with their laptops open looking at me like I’m a bug to study. I have never been normal about you. You drive me insane, stop staring at me with those cow eyes. Who the fuck lies about dressing their friends up in magazine interviews? And that fucking photoshoot! Were you planning on killing me? Tee sends me your Instagram training pics from back in May like once a week to torture me! I nearly blocked his ass, Ja’Marr, shut up.”

(like. i want the speech to be more?? idk more emotional in the confessional aspect but alas i don't know how to write shit out)

Ja’Marr looks back at him wide-eyed. He hasn’t really said anything throughout Joe’s turn of ranting, but even so Joe needs him to shut up, genuinely. This beautiful, beautiful man doesn’t know Joe loves him. Stupid. Stupid.

“Ja’Marr.” Joe says, low and hoarse. He slides his hands up to cup at his cheeks now that Ja’Marr isn’t pushing his weight back at him. The wetness of his cheeks from his previous tears seeps into Joe’s skin. “I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” Ja’Marr just says back, hoarse and dumb. This man, Joe swears.

Whatever.

Joe kisses him hard and gets dizzy with it. Ja’Marr chokes in surprise, but gets with the program quick enough.

The side of his nose presses against Ja’Marr’s, he’s biting at his bottom lips, his lashes brush against the cold wetness of his cheeks, his hands press hard against the side of Ja’Marr’s neck and he feels like he can count each heartbeat against the tender skin of his wrists pasted to Ja’Marr’s jugular.

“Hi,” he murmurs over his man’s lips, heart feeling so fucking full.

Ja’Marr laughs against his lips incredulously, eyes screwed shut and lips stretched stupid wide. The prettiest thing Joe’s ever seen in his life. Insanely, he feels that if he were to play all 12 games of the season left this morning right after separating himself from Ja’Marr, he’d throw over 300 yards each. Things love could fuel you to do–winning a championship of a sport he’s thrown his entire heart in, with a man who’s gripped it tight since he knew how to throw it to him too.

“Dumbass,” Ja’Marr murmurs back, nudging his nose to Joe’s for the softest nose kiss Joe has ever experienced, “hi to you too.”

ok bye

[crackedpumpkin]

Heyyyy! Do you still do tmnt 2012 fics? If so can you write a Donnie x fem reader one shot? it could go like this: reader has been friends with the turtles for a while and developed feeling for Donnie and has been struggling to confess cuz he still has a thing for April

-🪁 anón

a/n: Hello lovely kite anon!! I absolutely adore this request and did my best for 2012 Donnie, so I really hope you enjoy this! He always deserved better imo, writers did April so dirty

|| ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ || 2012! ᴅᴏɴɴɪᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

“So, the usual?” 

Donnie looks up from his tinkering, nodding at you gratefully with a tired smile. His eyes are surrounded by dark circles, having stayed up the past few days to finish working on the Shellraiser.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna try something new? Be adventurous?” You ask, already calling the pizza place you usually order from. 

“What would you suggest?” 

“Hawaiian pizza.” 

“Surely you jest,” Donnie frowns at the suggestion, your joking tone making him relax slightly. Surely you wouldn’t. You give him a nonchalant shrug, starting to speak to the staff that picks up the phone.

“One large Hawaiian Pizza, please, with extra pineapples.”

The wrench clatters to the floor. He sits upright, eyes wide, when he registers your words. “That’s it; you’re no longer welcome at the lair.”

You chuckle with a roll of your eyes as he resumes his tinkering. “And another large pepperoni pizza as well.” You add before giving them the address of the alleyway and hanging up.

You see him breathe a sigh of relief, walking over and peering over his shoulder at the gadget he’s tinkering with. “So, what’s the progress on the Shellraiser?” You ask, intrigued by the device on his desk. 

He’s about to answer, but his phone buzzing distracts him. He checks the screen, and a photo of April shows up. “One sec,” He holds up a finger to you, immediately picking up her call.

You purse your lips, slightly displeased by how he brushed you off so quickly. You try to shrug off the uncomfortable sensation that settles on your shoulders, sitting down on his seat and spinning around while scrolling through social media. 

You hoped it wasn’t about April coming over again. You had been looking forward to your movie night for weeks. Especially after you had finally mustered up the courage to ask him, only for him to take it as a friendly hangout instead of a date. You hesitated in correcting him, as he was still blinded by love for April.

You held nothing against the girl; you had seen how she looked at Casey Jones. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Donnie; you couldn’t handle the guilt of the heartbreak he’d go through.

It’s almost pitiful how you always push aside your feelings to make him happy. April needs help with an essay? Sure, you wouldn’t mind him ditching you for that instead. April wants to rant about friends at school? Of course, you didn’t mind him leaving the middle of a gaming session to rush over to her place.

But the ache in your heart worsens with every prick of envy whenever he prioritizes her instead of you. 

This is what having a one-sided love is like, you suppose. However, you’re quickly reaching your limit to how much heartache you were willing to take. But after weeks of him putting off the movie night in favour of hanging out with April, surely he wouldn’t do it again, right? Not after you had explicitly said you had looked forward to it.

“You won’t believe this! April’s coming over because she needs help with her chemistry homework! I’m sorry, Y/n, can we postpone movie night? You don’t mind, do you?” Donnie asks, already knowing that you’d understand.

A flicker of irritation pricks your heart, and you cross your arms. “Again? You already kept putting off movie nights because of her. I’ve been waiting for weeks, even rented the DVD for the fifth time, Donnie.” You can feel the annoyance in your tone, unable to hide it any longer. You cross your arms, almost glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ll reimburse you the amount. How about we hang out tomorrow instead?” Donnie offers, still absentmindedly tinkering away.

“But for now, since she’s coming over, could you give us some privacy?” He asks with a sheepish grin, his eyes full of dumbstruck love when he glances at the picture of her on his phone.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d absolutely love that.” You mutter snarkily, all the warmth gone from your voice.

"What?" The skin above Donnie's autumn brown eyes furrows, surprised by your sudden remark. 

You stare at the floor, words strangled in your throat as you debate whether or not to say what's on your mind.

“I’m tired of seeing you always rush to her with a simple call of your name, a single flick of her finger. When it comes to her, nothing else matters to you. Not even me.”

“That’s not true, Y/n.” Donnie tries to defend himself, wondering what it was he said that triggered this sudden outburst from you.

“Yes, it is, and you don’t see that there’s better out there for you. You don’t notice at all.”

“What’re you talking about?” Now he’s even more confused, worry filling his chest as he processes the pain in your eyes. Maybe you had watched another sad show again, which was why you reacted this way.

He didn’t think you’d mind since you always brushed it off like it was nothing, so why was this time any different?

"You don't know what it feels like, Y/n, to be stuck in a one-sided relationship." Donnie chuckles, not really minding your earlier response. 

You frown, standing up and walking over to stand opposite where he sits at his desk. Anger pricks your eyes as you start to feel them water. 

"I know how it feels, Donnie. Because I like you."

You’re horrified as soon as you blurt out the words, hands gripping his desk so tightly the skin on your knuckles turns white. 

He glances up at you with pure shock; your confession is the last thing he expected. His jaw goes slack, lips parted in an 'o'. 

"I hate how you'd do anything for her, choose her over anyone any day —choose her over me. It frustrates me because I know you deserve better." You brush your fingers through your hair, sighing exasperatedly as you ramble. May as well say everything since you had already confessed anyway.

"Just... forget it." You finally calm yourself down, pink dusting your cheeks when you realize what you've just done. You leave the lab, heading back home to scream into your pillow.

Donnie watches you leave, still in shock, as he processes the sudden confession that had come out of the blue.

April walks in moments after, his eyes still trained on the door you left through.

"Donnie? Are you good?" April waves her hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his dazed state.

"Y-yeah," He replies flusteredly, using his arm to push aside the tools scattered on his desk to make space for the girl he's had a crush on since day one.

"So, I'm confused about this part of molecular biology." He can barely register April's words, his thoughts drifting back to the pure pain that clouded your face earlier.

Have you always felt that way?

Why hadn't he noticed? 

"-onnie? Donnie!" 

He's returned to reality again when April calls his name, looking down at her with an apologetic smile. 

"Seriously, what's going on?" April asks worriedly.

He hesitates. "Y/n confessed to me…" He admits quietly, fidgeting with his fingers and tapping them against each other.

A slow grin spreads across April's lips. "She did?? About time!!" 

"W-wait, you knew?" Donnie asks, shocked by this sudden revelation. April nods eagerly, eyes shining with joy as she leans in. 

"So? What'd you say?"

"I didn't say anything." Donnie rubs the back of his neck, guilt consuming him from how he reacted earlier.

April leans back in her seat, crossing her arms with a disapproving glance. "You should call her. This homework isn't due until the end of the week anyway." She shuts her laptop, Donnie watching her leave after she gives him an encouraging thumbs up.

"You guys would make a cute couple." She remarks casually, making her exit.

Donnie's left in his lab, alone. He picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until your name appears. He gulps, suddenly nervous.

You were clearly angry from how you stormed out of his lab. But he presses down on your name on the screen, a picture of you appearing on the screen as he calls you.

His stomach feels funny, nauseous even. He gnaws on his bottom lip, eyes darting around his lab as anticipation grows with each ring.

You pick up the call on the way back home from the lair.

"Hello?" You ask hesitantly. Maybe this call was him rejecting you. Your heart clenches in pain at the thought, taking a nervous breath.

On the other end of the phone, Donnie's lips part. He can't think of any words to say, his mind going blank when he hears your voice.

However, one thought lingers in his mind — the question on the tip of his tongue. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, licks his dry lips, and starts to speak.

"How long?"

[ticklygiggles]

hii! for the drabble event, could you please do a reader x scaramouche (genshin) one for me please 🙏 romantic one! thank you so much if you do it!💕💕

[You & I Event - entries closed!]

A/N: first drabble (that turned into a fic skskdk), from this event! I hope you enjoy this! I love Scara so so much I'm dying dkfkfkg

This was highly inspired by that event where Nahida forces Scaramouche to study in the Akademiya and that she'll personally revise his thesis!

Words: 1.5k

Rumor has it that the new Vahumana scholar was dating someone. 

Everyone at the Six Darshans knew about the new student: Hat Guy—ah, no, Scaramouche.

Men and women were crazy about his handsome face and his terrifying intelligence. Scaramouche could write up to three essays of many several pages in a single day on extremely complex topics that even Vahumana's seniors were not able to fully understand.

He was a reserved person and limited himself to speaking only when necessary. He was constantly seen in the library with his nose buried in a book. He wasn't sociable, and his humor wasn't the brightest, so when rumors of Scaramouche having found a mate began to roam the halls of Vahumana, everyone was curious as to who had stolen such a complex person’s heart. 

Were they a student from the Akademiya too? Were they in the same classes as him? Was it a man or a woman? 

They all wanted to know the truth behind all these rumors, but there was no way in all Teyvat that any of them would dare ask Scaramouche directly. So the rumor that Scaramouche was seeing someone would remain a mystery to everyone. 

But of course, there was someone who knew all about it. 

"Ugh, would you stop staring at me? I'm trying to focus here, you're being annoying."

You giggled, looking back at your own book. Scaramouche's mysterious partner was no other but you. One more student of Vahumana who was lucky enough to catch the attention of someone like Hat Guy. It would be a lie if you said that you had not fallen for him long before your classmates relationship turned into a romantic one, but to think Scaramouche would also feel attracted to you… well, that was something you were not expecting. 

"You're doing it again!"

You laughed, "I'm sorry," you said, smiling brightly. "You're just so pretty, I can't help but stare." 

Scaramouche made a face that had you laughing again.

"You're so weird, why am I even dating you?" 

"Because I have a great personality and I love you nicely?" 

Scaramouche huffed, but by the pink hue appearing over his ears it was more than evident that you were right. 

"Let me finish my thesis," he mumbled shyly.

Your boyfriend was not hard to love, he was actually quite easy to read for you. You could know what he wanted and needed at any time because, even though he had a big brain for school work, he was terrible at expressing his own feelings, good thing he had you. 

"I think we should take a break."

"Not now."

"You are tired though," you said, closing your book. "And perhaps a little hungry, and maybe also thirsty?" You watched with great pleasure as Scaramouche's pencil halted for a second before he continued to scribble here and there, you smirked. "Maybe also… in need of cuddles?"

"I have to finish this thesis soon," he growled, completely avoiding your eyes and clearing his throat. "You can go and eat and drink and… whatever you want to do, by yourself.”

You chuckled. His painfully shy personality towards you always warmed your heart. He truly was not hard to love, on the contrary, you knew, even though he was still reluctant to tell you about his past, that he needed love. So desperately so, if you dared to say. And you thanked the Dendro Archon in every chance you had for his existence.

But he didn’t need to know that, you thought, his face would probably explode if you dared to tell him about your little prayers. 

You giggled, leaning in closer to him, arms touching. “I’d be very bored if you’re not there with me, though,” you said, blushing yourself when his ears turned red. “I also think that you should rest. We’ve been working nonstop since morning, isn’t it dark outside already?”

Scaramouche turned his head to look outside the window. It was indeed dark already. 

“... I have to finish,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“You can finish,” you said, hugging his arm and expecting him to push you away but he didn’t. “I will help you as much as I can and as much as you allow me, but we need to take a break, otherwise you’re going to tire yourself and you will not be able to work, hmm?”

Scaramouche wasn’t writing anymore, he was listening to you carefully, his fair cheeks glowing beautifully red, you resisted the urge to kiss them. 

“Or should I make you take a rest?”

He perked a little at that and he finally turned to look at you. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, trying to appear intimidating to you, but all you wanted to do was kiss him. 

“What- What do you mean?” He said, cautious and just slightly nervous. 

“I don’t know, I have my methods,” you said, shrugging. “Unless you decide to take a rest, that is.”

Scaramouche looked at you intently, his eyes jumping from left to right, staring at your own orbs. His lips were slightly pursed in thought and his eyebrows almost touched in the middle from how hard he was frowning. You smiled brightly at him, making him jump slightly and turn his head back to his thesis. 

“I can’t. Let me work.”

You were not expecting him to agree and you could only giggle, leaning your head against his shoulder. It had to be the hard way, huh? Well, that was what he asked for. 

Silence reigned in the room once more. The sound of Scaramouche's book pages and his pencil writing rapidly seemed to echo against the walls of your room. It was a soft, relaxing sound, you felt like you could fall asleep at any moment, but no. None of you could sleep for now. Scaramouche seemed to be relaxed, his features had turned to his usual color and he seemed to lean in closer to you. 

This was the perfect chance. 

The jacket of his casual attire had fallen a bit off his shoulder because of you hugging his arm, so shifting a little, you placed a tender kiss to his bare skin. He shuddered slightly and made a little sound deep in his throat when you kissed his shoulder one more time and another and another. 

“Stop, I can’t focus if you’re- haah, w-wait, I- ahahahaha! Gehehet your hahahands ohohoff!”

Success! Between tender kisses that made his skin prickle with goosebumps, Scaramouche had failed to notice both your hands sneaking under his arm, fingers wiggling against his armpit, tickling him nicely. He had also failed to try to hold his laugh back, and now that sweet sound filled your ears making you smile brightly.

"Stahahap tihihihis instahahant!" 

"Sure thing! Tell me, are we going to eat first or just walk around for a bit?"

Scaramouche shook his head and he tried to talk, but his words got lost between his loud cackles. Ah, how could he be so ticklish, you wondered. He simply didn't look like the ticklish type, but there he was cackling with his head thrown back as he tried to squirm away from you. 

"You can't talk? Does it tickle too badly?" Scaramouche nodded. "I'm just tickling one armpit, though, should I get the other one?"

"NOAHAHAHA!"

"Ah! So you can talk, silly boyfriend of mine!" You said playfully, your fingers unstoppable. "Tell me, are we going to continue working like this?"

Even though he was nearly laughing his head off, Scaramouche stubbornly refused to let you win this, but that was okay, you were not one to give up either. 

Smirking against his shoulder, one of your hands pulled out from under his arm and quickly sneaked under the leg of his shorts, your fingers easily finding that tender spot that always drove him up the wall. 

"OKAHAHAY!" Scaramouche shrieked, his knees hitting against the desk when he brought them up. "Fine! FIHIHINE! Nohohot thehehere, PLEHEHEASE!" 

You giggled, your cheeks pink. "So are we going to-

"EHEHEHAHT! Wehehehe'll eat fihihirst!"

"Very well!"

As quickly and surprisingly your attack had started, it finished, causing Scaramouche to collapse against his chair, giggling softly and twitching a little. You grinned, leaning to kiss his flushed cheek.

"Hmm, what would you like to eat? I kind of want-" You couldn't finish, all words got sealed in your mouth when Scaramouche pressed his lips against yours, giving you a tender kiss that made you feel like you had reached Celestia. 

You cupped his cheeks and he shyly wrapped his arms around waist as he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you.

When you both pulled apart, breathless and flushed, your eyes met and a giggle made its way out from your lips, making him smile softly. 

"Maybe we should do the cuddling first."

"Hmph," he said, closing his eyes. "If that is what you want, I guess it's okay."

You chuckled. Ah, he was so easy to love and you were so lucky to be loved back by him. 

[spiritblossoming]

The State of PPAU: A Really Long Post

This is gonna read like a video essay script I’m sorry 😭 and I'm serious about it being long this is 3k and says nothing really

When I started PPAU, it was more of a oneshot that I never expected to finish. Of course, I did finish it, so then I ended up posting it. At some time around then, my art teacher wanted me to draw up some sort of fictional setting, so I cheated and drew the players-as-champions universe I had been envisioning for months, inspired by the initial shots in the Burn It All Down MV of bright lights in a dark, rainy city. (That’s probably why the PPAU version of China has that same vibe of heavy rain and colorful light 90% of the time.) The first fic came out, and… it didn’t seem to draw much attention. Which, by the way, isn’t a problem, but it felt pretty discouraging back then. I came from a really close community in my last fandom where we would always be leaving paragraph-long comments on each other’s works, so getting a grand total of zero comments made me decide that I wouldn’t continue the universe like I had hinted. Much. 

The second PPAU fic was about the most popular North American team at the time, EG. At the time of posting, it was my way of saying goodbye to a universe I didn’t think I’d explore more of. Unlike my first fic, however, this one did get comments and kudos galore (I legitimately thought someone kudos-botted the fic or something since it had more kudos than hits). One comment in particular offered me more than just encouragement—it offered me a question. AryaSage wanted to understand how people got their powers, since it seemed a little inconsistent between fics. I never really answered that question very well, since magical sources of power were decidedly complicated in PPAU. But that  comment was what made me decide to continue PPAU for at least a little longer. 

My third fic was something pretty new for me. Instead of a oneshot that was mostly action or random fluff, I was going to do a multichap with a plot. You see, while trying to come up with championship wishes, I decided to give Scout one that would synergize with his champion, Zoe. I wrote down something along the lines of “boundless energy, never sleeps.” After a second of thinking, I added, “—angst?” Exploring championship wishes, the consequences of being a moron and the bond between teammates sounded like fun, so I went for it. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t really write a vaguely emotional, character-driven story without understanding the characters. And I knew very little about EDG, considering I have been a Damwon fan for almost as long as I’ve been into esports, and I am also a petty bitch. Rather than research, I went off pictures and their champions. Meiko was Yuumi, so he was generally cheerful, a great support outside of battle, and big on physical touch. Viper was Aphelios, so he was mysterious and cool. (AryaSage later gave him trauma.) Scout had to have a reason to make his stupid wish in the first place, so I made him a little bit of a moron. Jiejie was my favorite EDG member, although that’s not saying much, and I made him sarcastic because of his smirk in pictures. Flandre… was also there. In the span of about a week, I did what I had never done before: I finished a multichap fic. Arya commented on each chapter as it came out, which reminded me of my old fandom and helped motivate me to figure out what the hell my plot was. I call one day you’ll wish you hadn’t the EDG pilot, since I clearly hadn’t figured out the characters yet. 

Going into my fourth fic, I knew it was going to be an LCK fic. One commenter, rakuyou, said they would love to read more, and suggested that I write LCK next. I agreed, since I had written about the other three major regions already. I planned to write about Damwon, because again, I’m a Damwon fan and Showmaker has been my favorite for years. (He made it into EDG’s fic. That’s how you know it’s bad.) But when I tried to write about them… no ideas came to mind. I ended up thinking about a few clips I’d seen of Gumayusi talking about proving himself to Keria, and I typed out a line: “Okay, so in hindsight, this wasn’t the greatest idea.” Since I had covid at the time and therefore nothing to do but blow my nose and sit in my room, I wrote the rest of the fic in one day. My mom chose the title when she came to bring me my Chipotle. Rakuyou and Arya appeared again to cheer me on, and when Arya suggested that I do a Viper-centric fic to figure out his Deal (see note on me making him mysterious), I decided I might as well. 

So I did. And posted my fifth fic. The next day. As one does. The next two fics, while fun, didn’t have as much crazy inspiration behind them. They were both actually written from prompts, since I ran out of ideas. 

And then there was someday both of us are leaving here. I wrote the beginning of the sixth chapter first as a sort of sequel to counting failures, and then decided to make it a multichap 5+1. After chapter 4, DRX beat T1, and my fic ended up getting a lot more attention as people tried to cope with those finals. Two of my readers, a certain axolotl and owl, would later become my friends. Ginger Owl in particular motivated me to make the fic’s ending as good as it could be, since it was one of her favorite fics at the time. 

It’s worth noting that at the time of posting the sixth chapter, I had been dealing with depression for about six years. The pandemic hadn’t helped, and I was convinced that I was a failure compared to who I used to be. That had just started to change, as I realized about a day before my depression’s birthday that I might be able to be okay after all. One of my friends was also struggling with self-worth in comparison to someone else, similar to Gumayusi in the fic. In the seventh and final chapter, Keria tells Gumayusi that he doesn’t have to be Teddy or any of their teammates. All he has to be is Gumayusi. That chapter wasn’t just a love letter to Ginger Owl and my friend—it was a reminder to myself, of what I’d learned. I was vastly different from how I used to be, sure, and I was worse in a lot of ways, but my current self was also better in other aspects. I didn’t have to compare myself to who I used to be or to anyone else—I was enough. 

Yeah so then my grandpa died and I wrote angst to cope. Blah blah. 

But my grandpa dying and my depression isn’t important to this story! Something more important happened: SHOWMAKER LOST IN QUARTERFINALS. Filled with mald and the spirit of NA, I wrote there’s no crown for losing. And this shit is so bad it warrants a section break. 

For the first eight fics, PPAU had a solid identity. It was supposed to be a bunch of fairly short fics, some with self-contained arcs, that took place in the same universe, were canon compliant, and could be read without prior knowledge of the universe. Obviously, this wasn’t fully the case, since someday both of us are leaving here required knowledge of counting failures, but I figured it wouldn’t be too hard for a gumakeria fan to read a short gumakeria prequel. Plus the whole universe isn’t explained at the beginning of each fic, because that would make me die inside. Anyway, these stories were never connected all that much, making it easy for someone to pick and choose which ones they read based on what teams or players they liked. But there’s no crown for losing was the beginning of the end. Funnily enough, the canon compliance (AKA generally sticking to PPAU versions of IRL events and relationships) wasn’t completely destroyed the second I came up with the idea of a DK EDG crossover, since Damwon posted about LOSER FINALS TODAY WE GONNA WIN THIS TIME BROTHERS. DK VS EDG, TIME: WHENEVER YOU WANT. I love tncfl with my whole heart, but there’s no denying it did two very dangerous things to the universe. 

It introduced the idea of what I call a “mcdonalds fic”, where the previously unrelated characters from past stories came together to make something that was decidedly less than canon compliant. A mcdonalds fic, in essence, puts characters together despite the fact that they have barely interacted at all IRL, and therefore defies canon. 

It introduced Showmaker as the main character instead of a snarky, mysterious asshole like he was in his previous appearances. 

But surely there’s no crown for losing didn’t matter, because it was a one-time thing! Right? Well, it would have been, but then brute force and style combine was an even bigger mcdonalds fic, featuring players from all four regions and all TEN of the previous fics. (I’m serious.) Worse, that fic set up a possible plot, what with the ominous ending and hint that something new was coming. Right after that came run away from the faith, which marked the first time two characters had an important interaction that was insanely non-canon compliant. And of course, then there was now I’ll never be the same, and the Ruination arc, which was so, so non-canon compliant. It literally added a plot that was so disruptive that I had to reschedule some of the IRL matches in-universe, and although that might have been fine, it, uh… It was a global crisis with lasting effects, most notably the trauma I inflicted of some of PPAU’s most prominent characters.

The Ruination arc was a little weird, since it was split into eight fics despite having the same central plotline and arc. I don’t think it would have made much sense as a single fic either, since the POVs and focuses vary wildly (which is a problem in the alt ruination fic), and seeing as I had no idea what the plan was when I posted the first fic, there wasn’t much I could do. During the Ruination, if you wanted to know what the hell was going on, you absolutely had to read the fics that came before it, which wasn’t anything like the format I had going before. I was really drained writing the Ruination, since it was such a big project that I wasn’t sure I could finish. That’s probably why PPAU started how it did—so that no matter when I stopped writing PPAU, it would have a clear enough ending. Like a moron, I even hinted at a second Big Plot in the Ruination finale.

I ended the Ruination by celebrating the fact that all the Plot Shit was over and that I could get back to crack and my regularly scheduled programming. Except… I couldn’t. My next fic, while basically a crack oneshot, referenced the Ruination. I couldn’t justify not doing so, since Keria kind of died and saved the world. It was an awkward in-between of the two PPAU styles, since it could be read without context right up until Gumayusi and Keria start talking about an old arc. Most of the next few fics—a heart full of fire, pray for glory, rise up and sing, and even legendary (the stars will remember you)—were more of a return to the oneshot, non-interconnected format. The obvious exception is what are you willing to lose, but that one kind of had to be open-ended. Even though they were more of a return to the format, all of them still at least referenced past fics and arcs, and with Faker’s fic reaching 2023, it’s going to mention the Ruination. Except for rise up and sing, because EU is fundamentally irrelevant in this universe despite being the first region I wrote about. 

At this point, I didn’t have my self-contained arcs or my canon compliance or my oneshots that you could read independently. It was a whole interconnected mess of plot spaghetti, and it still is. At first, the “series” title didn’t really fit PPAU, since they were all just vaguely related fics, but the Ruination really made it a series. While you can still read the first thirteen fics with little to no context, the rest of the series has required reading, and that’s just… not what I meant to do. PPAU spans 50 fics if you count AryaSage and Space_Axolotl’s contributions—which you should, because they’re a) bangers and b) related to the “plot”. You also have to count the alternate Ruination, which I wrote as a fun what-if and now has a bunch of lore for the universe that can’t be found anywhere else. So now PPAU is over 300,000 words. You have to read a bunch of shit to understand one fic. Plus, while having self-contained arcs is good, now that I’m dragging them all together, you can’t just choose to read the fics about your favorites if you want to understand a new fic. So PPAU’s old concept is working against what it’s become. Honestly, if I wasn’t the author and I saw PPAU today, I wouldn’t read it. 

Look… I’m not writing for the sake of external validation, because I know I shouldn’t, but it’s not as if that doesn’t play a big part. Passion can only get me so far, and that was clear as soon as I started, since I would have quit after my second fic. PPAU isn’t exactly new reader-friendly, so most of my readers are what I call the squad: people who have read a large amount of PPAU and are more committed to it as a universe. Which is cool. I love the squad. It reminds me of my old fandom. But—and this is going to sound bad—sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Maybe I’m spoiled by my old fandom, because again, we had paragraph-long comments and discord servers where we would live react to fics (and still leave comments at the end). Maybe I’m not. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that those long comments that give me motivation and dopamine like nothing else are hard to come by these days. And by the way, there is NOTHING wrong with that, or with the fandom as a whole. Well actually the fandom has an issue with not crediting people or asking permission to use their ideas (star guardian anon i mean you /frfr) or supporting authors as much as they should but whatever. Anyway, I don’t blame anyone for not leaving comments, and I’m not saying that you should. Well I am saying that but I mean it generally and not about my works in particular. Writing any non-T1 fic means that you’re resigning yourself to it not being nearly as popular, and I’m not exactly a T1 main. I think I would have more than a few fics that didn’t have comments were it not for the squad, which kind of bothers me. I love the squad, but when it’s just them commenting on a fic, I start to think that if that fic didn’t have my name attached to it, no one would want to read it. Not even me! And at that point, why am I posting it? Why am I writing it? That’s my kind of thought process when it spirals. 

Even without that, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m just not happy with PPAU’s concept. It’s not fully interconnected, but there are a bazillion plot lines tangled up in there, and it’s not a series, but the Ruination definitely is. Canon compliance is a myth at this point. It’s not the approachable little universe it was when I made it two years ago. I’ve spent more than two years writing and drawing almost exclusively PPAU things, and… this is the part where I say that it’s gotten tiring, but that’s not the case. There are so many stories I can still tell, plus a big plotline I could explore. But if I’m putting all my brainrot into this one universe, I want to at least be happy about how that universe works—and I’m not. 

There’s no easy fix for any of this, though. I can’t untangle the plot threads and fics no matter what, and my ongoing fics reflect that. Faker’s fic will eventually answer a question that was asked by the very first fic, which does seem fitting. Because Faker. Showmaker and Canyon’s fic sets up a Noxian plotline (good timing I know) that has been around since a heart full of fire. But I alluded to Showmaker’s backstory in his first big fic. See point about tncfl breaking the universe. Alt Ruination will also be related to the greater lore of the universe, which I resent. It’s meant to be a spinoff, man… Zoomer fic was initially tied to the Noxian plot before I remembered that was a bad idea, but it still introduces a possible plot going forward. JackeyLove’s fic heavily relies on the Ruination and sets up the Void plotline, because it’s him.

Quick aside, JackeyLove is probably my favorite character I’ve created. He wasn’t supposed to be much (despite me liking iG for longer than I’ve liked DK) but while considering what Kai’Sa might exist as in PPAU, I wrote that she was “a girl who underwent a risky operation to save her life,” with said operation obviously being the Void symbiote. I used the same concept for JackeyLove, which was cool and all until I realized that he might have a little trauma about that. So he’s a bit of a mess now. In a good way. He has Showmaker’s sass, Viper’s trauma, Faker’s weird power scaling and plot relevance… 

Okay anyway. There’s no way to fix PPAU, which is upsetting considering everything I’ve put into this universe. Every chapter I post only exacerbates the issues. I still fully intend to post those chapters and eventually write the Void and Noxian plotlines, which should come to a head this year anyway. After that… we’ll see how I feel. Plot sounds painful. I don’t think I’ll outright end PPAU at some point. It’ll just stop. Which is ominous but that’s how it goes ig. 

It would be nice to work on some other projects too. I have to write that T1 novel, which will be in its own universe. Then there’s the fabled “hvau” which has been cooking for forever. Featuring my favorite mcdonalds morons. 

Maybe one day I’ll at least fix the organization of PPAU… Until then, I’d like to thank the squad I mentioned previously. I appreciate all the support more than you know. Everyone who’s commented/screamed at me in DMs for 2 hours about what I wrote, I love you. Thank you for reading! 

[veryace-ficrecs]

Young Winchesters Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

A Study in Family by Violettavonviolet - Rated G

Today's writing prompt was to describe the most influential person in your life. Sammy had written his essay about a person he called D., a caretaker, she assumed, of some sort.

Big Brother's Day by Violettavonviolet - Rated G

Today is Mother's Day, and although Sam doesn't have a mom, he sure does have someone that deserves a card.

From me to you by EternalSheWolf - Rated G

When they are in pain, most children regress to an infantile state and instinctively, blindly, call out to their mother. Sometimes to their father. Dean doesn't. He calls for Sam.

A Dad and a Dean by EternalSheWolf - Rated G

"I don't have a Mom. I have a Dean"

Not a Front by schrijverr - Rated G

Someone from Deans class has to work with Dean on a school project and gets to see that Deans tough guy act is much more than that. Just a little snippet from the young Winchesters life

Damnit Sam by RavenGrey - Rated G

The first thing John does when he reads the note pinned to his kid is grumble an exasperated “Damnit Sam.”

Point of Contact by authoressnebula (authoressjean) - Rated G

Sam doesn't come home from school on time. Someone's going to pay in blood, if Dean has anything to say about it. Or: why Dean is so adamant about cell phones.

It Happens Quietly by turquoisetumult - Rated G

John struggles dealing with Dean’s mutism and grief after Mary’s death. But somehow an infant knows how to fix Dean in a way John never guesses.

Grace in the Wilderness by Edge_of_Clairvoyance - Rated G

Angel, the ER desk clerk, was getting ready for another boring, uneventful night at Holborn Memorial. And then the blond boy burst through the front doors. "Please, I need help, my dad's hurt!"

All the King’s Horses by AmyPond45 - Rated G

It’s late fall, and when two little boys start hanging out at the local library next door to the town’s elementary school, the librarian thinks she knows what’s going on.

Losing Winner by authoressnebula (authoressjean) - Rated G

Dean's got to finish his homework, but Sam wants to play. Maybe a quick game, like rock, paper, scissors? Of course, Sam's got to win for it to be quick... Or: Why Dean always chooses scissors.

[crazylittlejester]

So... because of timezones (i think) you posted that question about what fics we're looking forward to at like past midnight and I didn't have the mental capacity to answer. Now it's 10am where I am and my first order of business is to send you an essay on the fics you've written that I've enjoyed!

So if I remember right, I started following you when you were writing the Your A Part Of Me series. I LOVE your portrayal of Warriors and Time (and sometimes Wind) and I'm pretty sure you're the reason i love war of eras found family fics! Though if I could choose a single one of these fics for you to update it would be the body swap fic. For a fic with only 2 chapters, I've re-read it an unhealthy amount of times 😅

I was also here when you were brainstorming the Twilight but Wars is Bella AU and I'm waiting with baited breath for that one. Crack fics usually don't interest me, but for some reason this one sounds amazing and I can't wait to bingeread the whole thing in one sitting! (No pressure though!)

And of course I can't end this rant without mentioning your modern au. I love aus like this, I love seeing each authors interpretation of what our blorbos would be like in a different setting, I find it FASCINATING and yours is one of the great ones! You've put so much thought into it and the only reason I haven't read/kudos more of those fics is because uni started up again last week for me and I've got a deadline soon for a project that is the equivalent of a dissertation (AND I'm doing a dissertation as well which was a ✨️mistake✨️ im having fun cus im writing/composing video game music but theres so much work!!!) and i use fic to escape the real world not be reminded of it. I'm sure I'll get round to your other modern au fics after my deadline 😀

Anyway, before I go back to lurking, I just wanted to remind you to write what YOU want to write and not force yourself to write something you've lost the motivation for just because people are asking for it. I can say from experience that writing out of obligation is a great way to take the joy out of writing and I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone!

I'm going to sink back into the void whence I came now. Bye! 🩷💚💜

thank you so much for this!!

im definitely working on chapter 3 for the body swap fic so dw dw :)

I told myself i was going to finish that entire au before i start posting it so it can have consistent updates aldkdkk but its taking sooo long. i have not forgotten about it, im still slowly working on it, maybe i’ll post chapter one when its half done or something

im glad you like the modern au!! and good luck on your work 🫡🫡🫡

take care if yourself!! 💙

[ellabsprincess]

you told me you wanted to write an ellie smut and i'm desperately asking you to make a college!ellie one with her underneath your desk, eating you out and trying to stay quiet because she doesn't want to disturb you while you're busy doing your homework/project 🛐

OH MY GOD MEIJI BABY YOU DESERVE THE SLOPPIEST HEAD FOR THIS ASK GOOD LORD - wanna recreate this fic? ;)

anyways thanks baby i literally RAN to go write this

enjoy loves <3 <3 <3

"stay quiet, baby"

word count: 1.2k

warnings: 18+, bit of crying (reader is a stressed college student), sub!top!ellie, dom!bottom!reader, fluff, ellie's a good gf, college au, fingering, cunnilingus, mommy kink (if you're not into that then look away), established relationship, idk i think thats it

"ughh somebody kill me"

the essay you had procrastinated for weeks was finally due, and you absolutely did not want to write it. it was on a topic you had no interest in, and you just wanted to enjoy the spring weather rather than be cooped up in your dorm finishing this meaningless project.

as you laid you head on your dorm room desk and groaned and complained to yourself, you felt the desk vibrate. lifting your head up and turning your phone over, you saw a message from your girlfriend.

how's the essay going baby?

you quickly responded.

literally horribly i haven't made any progress :( i'm bored and all i wanna do is just spend time with you

want me to come over? i could help you and try to motivate you?

you knew damn well that spending time with ellie never actually helped your productivity, but the need to see your girlfriend overpowered any rational thinking in that moment.

yes please!!

i'm on my way :)

a few minutes later, you heard a familiar rap at your door. rushing up from your desk, you flung the door open and grabbed ellie in a bruising hug

"woah, missed me baby?"

you nodded into her flannel shirt. she just laughed and helped guide you both back inside your dorm. she led you back to your desk, helping you sit down while she crouched beside you.

"how can i help?"

"i really don't know," you responded. "i'm just so burnt out at this time of year and i just have no motivation to do this. i'm fucking bored of this class and i just want to spend time with you."

you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes, and a look of concern flooded over ellie's face.

"shh baby, oh no, don't cry." she wiped away the wet streaks that had begun to adorn your face. you sniffled and she pulled you in for a quick and reassuring kiss. "i know its hard, but i promise you can do this. i believe in you and we can spend all the time together you want once this project is done, okay?"

you began to catch your breath, and the tears began to stop, thankfully, as the weight on your chest felt like it had lifted slightly.

"are you sure you want me here? i really don't want to distract you, love," ellie posed.

"no no! i promise i really want you here, you're actually helping me a lot. i think i just needed to cry and rant a bit," you reassured her.

"okay, good. i needed to see your pretty face today anyways."

her long hands stroked your thighs, and you giggled. something about the way ellie was so strong and powerful, yet she was willing to drop to her knees at any moment for you never failed to turn you on.

"you know, i think there's one more way you could help me, baby," you said, stroking ellie's hair and leaning in towards her face.

"oh really?"

"yeah, get underneath the desk for me."

ellie's pupils blew wide as she obeyed, keeping her hands steady on your thighs as she maneuvered to kneel between your legs underneath the desk.

god, you loved when your girlfriend was so obedient for you. of course, you loved her dominant side, and sometimes all you wanted was her to take control and fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name. but when she got subby? that made you go feral.

"take off my pants baby"

massaging your thighs as she made her way up to your waist, she unbuttoned your pants and slowly moved them down your legs, enjoying the new sight of your pretty white panties. she reached to pull them off of you as well, but you quickly smacked her hands away.

"i just wanna see your pussy mommy," she looked up at you with puppy dog eyes.

"no, you're gonna be a good girl and taste mommy through her panties, okay?"

she just slowly nodded before leaning in and pressing her tongue to your wet, covered folds. you sighed in relief and relaxed into your chair at the feeling of her desperate mouth on you. finally feeling the relief you had craved the entire day, a newfound sense of productivity washed over you, and an idea was born.

you reached down and grabbed ellie by her auburn hair, pulling her away from you, causing her to whine and moan.

"okay, you can take mommy's panties off now, but you can't make any fucking noise, baby. i'm gonna work on this project while you make me cum over and over, okay?"

"yes please mommy just let me taste you, please," ellie was so desperate when she was subby. it was almost pathetic how addicted she was to your taste.

"such a good girl, begging for mommy's pussy," you said, releasing her hair and allowing her to slide your soaked panties off, leaving you bare to her.

ellie wasted no time before attaching her mouth to your clit, sucking lightly and causing you to let out a near pornographic moan. her skilled tongue traced eye-rolling patterns over and over on your sensitive and throbbing clit, almost causing you to forget your project. but when she relented to move her tongue from your clit to your hole, you returned to your computer screen.

you typed out boring word after boring word, but you didn't mind, not when you had ellie's tongue fucking in and out of you at a seemingly impossible speed and causing wet and sinful noises to fill your dorm.

she was trying so hard to stay quiet, but the taste of you was so intoxicating, and ellie began to let out a few whimpers and quiet moans.

"baby, what did i say about making noise?" you corrected her. She quieted herself and muffled her noises by taking your clit into her mouth once again.

"ellie, be a good girl for mommy and put those fingers to work too," you breathed out, overwhelmed from the pleasure as you tried to keep focus on the project.

ellie obeyed and brought two fingers up to your hole, circling it before plunging them inside. you were so wet from her mouth that she easily slide in. she felt you clench around her digits and let out an accidental moan, but you let it slide because the vibration of her moan on your clit made you see stars.

the wet squelching sounds of your pussy grew louder as ellie quickly pumped her fingers in and out of you, sucking harder on your clit. you were near the edge, you knew it.

"oh my fucking god"

"yesyesyesyesyes"

"such a good fucking girl"

your praises were music in ellie's ears as you begin to lift your hips and grind against her face, desperate for release.

as ellie added a third finger, repeatedly reaching that spongey part inside you, you moaned ellie's name loudly and finally came all over her face.

catching your breath, as you felt ellie's fingers leave your quivering hole, you pushed away from your desk to find her beneath you. she had a blissed-out on her face, and her chin and mouth were still shiny from your release.

"holy fuck baby," you exclaimed, growing more aroused at the sight of your perfect subby girlfriend, on her knees and pussy-drunk for you.

"how much of the project do you have left?" ellie asked.

"a few more paragraphs?"

"then let me taste that pretty pussy again."

[coolbeesbro]

Thank you @baambastic for tagging me in WIP Wednesday! Maybe this will finally hold myself accountable to finish this chapter.

The rules: Post an excerpt from your most recent WIP and then tag a bunch of people.

Here's a snippet from my Stardew Valley Fic "Distant Shore"

Nitya had been standing in the hallway of his parent’s home, nervously clutching a letter of acceptance in his hands, trying to figure out how to break the news to his parents that he didn’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer or any other profession they deemed “real jobs”. They’d spent so much time preparing him for the SATs and writing college application essays, and taking AP courses–

They were gonna be mad when he broke the news that the college he would be attending in Zuzu City wouldn’t be Bayside Law or Gully Harbor Technical Institute; but instead Greenwood College of Art & Design. 

From here, he could see into his mom and dad’s shared office space where his mom was sorting through papers or something on her desk, typing away on her laptop as she did so. He could only see the back of her head from here, watching as it shifted side to side as she looked between her notes and the laptop screen. 

His dad wouldn’t be home till later that night, which made now the best opportunity to bring this up. His mom was always more sympathetic, if not only a little bit more than his father. That and he also didn’t think he could handle them both head on at once. Not again after the coming out disaster.  

Granted, in the end it worked itself out; only making for a tension filled week as his parents did what they did best when they didn’t know or understand something. They sat down and researched.

He could only hope that things would work out that well for him again this time. But the logistics of grandkids and their son’s love life was one thing; his career choice and future was something completely different. His parents didn’t pay thousands upon thousands of dollars in the hopes of having a straight son. They did, however, spend that much for college prep courses, tests, tutors and so much more in the hopes that he’d take after one of them and go to a big name university and get a high paying job. 

“Mom?” Nitya’s voice was shaky and nervous as he stood in the hallway, debating whether to just back track and ask about how work went today, or just pretend he didn’t say anything and walk to his room. It wasn’t too late–

“Yes?” She said as she sat up and turned to see her son, and immediately she picked up that something was wrong, “Tya, sweetie, what’s wrong?” 

“I want to go to Greenwood.” The words tumbled from his lips faster than he could think of a different way to say it.

Her brows knit together, “I’m sorry, Greenwood?” She sounded confused as she stood up, “That art college we toured because you thought it would be fun to see the area?”

He nodded his head, clutching the acceptance letter in his hands in a vice grip, “Is… Is that ok?” his voice was just barely above a whisper, his heart thudding in his chest so fast that he felt like it’d either stop any second or he would get sick.

“Oh sweetheart,” His mother walked over and pulled him into a hug, “Do you think going there will make you happy?” She asked as she buried her face in his mess of curly hair.

“Yeah.” He choked out, not realizing he was shaking till this moment.

“You’ll be ok, Tya. If you’ll be happy there, I will support you.” She said as she squeezed him tightly in her arms.

“I’ll support you too.” He heard his father say behind him. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder give him a squeeze, “Whatever makes you happy, son.”

Except… That’s not how this happened. His parents faded away, leaving him to stand there trying to remember. 

No.

The correct scene flickered in front of him.

His mother was in tears, crying, pleading with him to not ruin everything he’d worked for, how it means so much for him and how he worked so hard and– 

His dad said nothing for a while. Quietly thinking to himself how much of a disappointment his only child had been, ‘An artist?’ his father would mutter to himself in disbelief, ‘A lazy man’s career. I can’t believe I raised such a lazy boy.’ 

Yeah, that was how it happened. It got better though. Why could he only see the parts of this milestone that made him so hurt and bitter? He missed them so much, what he wouldn’t give to just relive a pleasant memory with them? Like the paint class they took that summer, because when his parents didn’t understand, they did what they did best. They sat down and researched. 

They met him half way for the first time. Yet here he was standing here like a small creature, watching one of the hardest decisions, and the biggest argument he’d ever had with his parents play out. 

‘You think you’re an adult, ready to make a big decision like this on your own.’ his mother had said, ‘Well you’re not. Your brain hasn’t even fully developed, and you’re ready to throw your life away to go play with paints–

Nitya’s eyes snapped open and he shot up from his bed, almost knocking Dipper off in the process. His heart was racing so fast in his chest and he felt as though he might get sick. He needed to take deep breaths –inhale-exhale-inhale-exhale– he looked over to his phone to check the time.

3:08am

Nitya fell back into bed and tears began to well up in his eyes as a single thought stayed in his brain. Out of that whole dream, the unpleasant fight with his parents, the anxiety attack–none of that paled in comparison when he realized he no longer remembered what his parents sounded like. 

Those voices in the dream, it wasn’t theirs. It was missing his father’s accent, and his mother’s voice was completely different. He couldn’t remember it, he just knew that they were wrong. The thought that he might be forgetting his parents in any way was too much for him to deal with at 3:08am. His thoughts traveled to his old busted up phone that sat in the drawer of his nightstand, which once had old voicemails from them in it. Were they even there anymore? Was the device really busted beyond repair?

I'm not super sure who to tag for this, but @thereosheep and @the-artist-grimm since you guys have some cool COTL Au's going on?

[operationmorewhitecollar]

Shall we play a game?

Nope, not chess or Parchisi. And not even global thermonuclear war. (If you get that reference, you might just be as old as we are!) But no, none of those games are where we're headed. This year, we're hosting a good old-fashioned game of bingo!

That's right, since we're almost two weeks into the new year, we thought it might be time to roll out our new creative challenge, which will continue throughout 2024.

As always, we're in the market for any and all fan creations centered on White Collar, and this year, we're providing prompts in the form of mini bingo cards, with new prompt cards coming out quarterly. (Jan, April, July, October) If you want to play, just let us know (comment here, dm, however you want to get in touch), and we'll get you a card so you can get started!

Some details:

When we say "any and all fan creations," we mean it--let your creativity run wild and make whatever you want to make! Draw, write, paint, record a podcast, shoot a video, whatever your creative preference.

We're using a 4x4 card format, and there is a FREE space, so that means a total of 15 prompts for three months. Complete a line of prompts, get a bingo; complete the whole card during the quarter, and that, dear friends, is a blackout!

Much like our drabble prompts, the bingo prompts are pretty broad, and many (maybe most?) are only one word. They run the gamut from theme words to genre to story length and beyond. (Not to worry if you're making art or some other non-written creations; we've got provisions for swapping prompts.)

Prompts were randomized to create the cards, and the card numbers were randomized to create the distribution order, so the prompts you end up with are strictly luck.

Okay, that's probably the most important stuff to know, except, of course, that we hope lots of you will join in and that everyone has tons of fun creating new White Collar stuff, because we're sure going to have fun seeing whatever you make!

So whenever you're ready, shall we play a game?

(We'll put a few more detailed FAQ items below the cut, but if you've got questions we didn't think of, just let us know and we'll make up an answer.😉)

Q: What can my entries be? A: Any type of creation you choose. fic, art, blog post, essay, cross-stitch, we're not picky. Interpret the prompts any way you like, in any genre, any relationship, any rating, any characters, you get the idea. (Unless, of course, the prompt is more specific.) As long as it's White Collar, it's fair game.

Q: Where do we share our work/how will you know we made something or got a bingo? A: First, put your creations somewhere we can see them! There'll be a collection on AO3 where most types of work can be shared. (We're debating if it's better to have just one collection for the year or one for each quarter; if you've got any opinions on that, feel free to weigh in.) If you're sharing here or on other socials, be sure to @ us, and use #WhiteCollarBingo. But, while we'll be doing our best to keep up, we're hoping there will be so many entries we'll lose track, so definitely tell us if you completed a bingo!

Q: Can I make one story/picture/video/etc. for the whole card? A: You may use as many prompts as you like in each entry, but only 2 prompts per line may be counted toward a bingo. (So you will need at least two entries to achieve a single bingo, and though we may have miscounted, we think that means at least ten entries to make a blackout.)

Q: Are crossovers allowed? A: Yes (and may even be a prompt!), but White Collar should obviously be prevalent in your work.

Q: How long do I have to complete my entries? A: We'll be issuing new cards each quarter (Jan-March, April-June, July-Sept, Oct-December), and in a perfect world, we'd like to receive entries within that quarter. But you know we've never been sticklers for schedules, and the point is to encourage more White Collar creations, so we'll be glad to get them whenever you finish.

Q: What do I win when I bingo? A: Bragging rights, and your name on our (soon to be created) bingo accomplishments page.

Q: What if there are some prompts I really don't want to use, but I want to try for blackout? A: We will provide a max of two alternate prompts. (This max does not apply if you're making non-written creations and somehow ended up with a card full of writing-centric prompts.)

Q: What if I just can't work with the card I receive at all? A: We'll exchange your card one time. Part of the fun is stretching our creative muscles.

Q: If I exchange my card, will any previous entries count toward bingo on my new card? A: Nope. It's a fresh slate, so examine your card when you get it to decide if it works for you.

Q: If I complete my card, can I have another? A: Yep, and we'd be very impressed! (and happy!)

Q: Where did these prompts come from? A: Many suggestions from our followers, and we've been hunting and gathering, too. But we want to have lots of variety as the year rolls along, so please keep those suggestions rolling in.

Q: Can something I made for another challenge count toward a bingo prompt/Can I submit my work to more than one collection or challenge? A: As long as it's new work, and if the other challenge doesn't ask for exclusivity, bring it on! And frankly, we'd love to see more White Collar activity in multi-fandom spaces. Also, we'll surely be hosting other events throughout the year (at least Mozzie Mania and Caffrey-Burke Day), and you can certainly use a bingo prompt for any of those challenges as well.

[poppypickle]

Half-Finished Fic Fest

Back with more old fic. I think I wrote this around 2012, probably as a fill for this prompt during a Gossip Girl promptathon:

No, no, I think it's more like a ghost That's been following us both Something vague that we're not seeing Something more like a feeling

I think I never posted because I felt like others had already done post-canon Dair reunions more justice. But begone, self-doubt!

There's a dream in my brain that just won't go away Dan/Blair  1162 words

Blair tells herself she's happy. Because happy is what happens when your dreams come true, right? When you get everything you ever wanted? Yes, of course she is happy.

She does not think about what ifs — does not imagine any other path but the one she has chosen. No Frost-ian ruminations about roads less traveled for her (no poetry whatsoever, in fact). Because what would be the point? She has finally (finally) won Chuck's heart, and Blair is blissfully, perfectly happy thankyouverymuch.

It's just… Maybe she expected the happiness to feel a little bit different. To be less heavy.

But it does not do to dwell, so Blair clutches the sparkling diamond ring around her neck until it leaves angry red imprints on her palm, and reminds herself that she is very, very happy.

***

Dan tells himself he's over her. He dabbles in revenge for a little while, writing nasty tell-all essays about everyone in his life and hoping they will fill the aching hole inside of him where her pithy insults about his hair used to be. He lets it all drain out of him like a thick, infected puss until he wakes up one morning and discovers there's nothing left but a nasty scar. And suddenly, he is sad instead of angry.

So Dan throws himself into new pursuits — he re-enrolls at NYU, gets another internship, dates as many tall blondes and redheads as his schedule allows. He rents a new apartment and does his best not to feel sentimental when he finds three of her DVDs and a pot of La Mer face cream tucked away in the bedside table he's cleaning out.

Tossing everything into the garbage with a purposefully casual flick, Dan thinks of Blair only in the abstract. They were together until they weren't. It was wonderful until it wasn't. Until she decided it wasn't.

Whatever, he's over it.

***

It's five years later when they see each other again, at a Saturday Film Forum matinee, of all places. Blair hears herself calling out his name before she can stop herself, and when Dan turns around he looks so perfectly like himself (messy hair, a knowing half smile pulling at his lips) that it nearly takes her breath away.

It takes four long strides for him to reach her, and just like that Dan Humphrey is standing in front of her again, two steaming cups of coffee clasped in his hands. For a split second, Blair imagines that they are 22 again and that one of those cups is for her. She flicks the thought away with a sharp intake of breath.

"Blair," Dan says finally, and it comes out far gentler than she expects. "Are you here to see Rebecca?"

"Of course," she says, fidgeting idly with the edges of her skirt. She forces her fingers to still against her thighs. "It's a classic."

"Hitchcock's best, some might say."

"Some might say. Not me."

Dan smiles in spite of himself. "North by Northwest is still your favorite I assume?"

Blair cocks her head to the side. "And you preferred –"

"Vertigo," he nods.

She smirks in spite of herself. "You always did have a weakness for blondes."

"A long time ago," he acknowledges.

"How have you been?" she asks, and it seems like such a silly thing to say that she finds a blush creeping up her cheeks. But Dan just tilts his head to the side and smiles.

"I'm good," he says simply. "How are you? How's work? Chuck?"

"Work is wonderful, busier than ever," Blair smiles. “And Chuck is…Somewhere in Europe right now, I think. It didn't work out."

Dan's eyes crinkle. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She shrugs it off with a wave of her hand. "It's fine."

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment before Dan murmurs, “I only ever wanted you to be happy, you know…”

It’s such a Dan Humphrey thing to say. A shade too earnest. A little wounded. Perfectly sincere.

Blair feels a lump rise in her throat. She opens her mouth to reply, but just then a petite woman with an auburn bob slides up next to Dan with two matching striped bags of popcorn in her hands.

“The line was so long. I hope all the good seats aren’t taken.”

Dan seems to startle ever-so-slightly before remembering himself and sliding his eyes away from Blair to smile down at the other woman. He fumbles with the coffee cups in his hands, passing one to her as he takes one of the bags of popcorn in between his long fingers. 

"Blair, this is Tess. Tess, Blair. Blair and I…went to high school and college together."

Blair’s eyebrows lift before she can stop them, but she quickly schools her face into something more neutral. “Nice to meet you.”

"Are you seeing the movie?” Tess asks, her smile wide and bright. “I'm a Hitchcock virgin."

Blair purses her lips, an insult on the tip of her tongue before she catches Dan's knowing smirk and stops herself. "Well you'll love Rebecca. It's the only one of his movies that ever won Best Picture.”

"That's what Dan was saying."

"Go grab us some seats and I’ll be right in,” Dan says, and Blair tries not to notice the way he puts his hand against the small of Tess’ back before she walks away.

“Girlfriend?” Blair asks after a moment, when it’s just the two of them again.

“Not yet.” Then, “It’s new.”

“But it could be something?” she presses, unable to stop herself.

“Lots of things could be something,” Dan says vaguely, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. Then he lifts his chin to look her right in the eyes. “If you get the timing right.”

They stare at each other for a few long moments before Blair finally says, “It was good to see you.”

Dan looks like he wants to say something else, but then he seems to think better of it. “Yeah, you too,” he says, then turns toward the theater doors.

Blair rocks back and forth on her kitten heels, staring at Dan’s back as he walks away. When he opens the doors and starts to disappear inside, she hears Joan Fontaine utter that haunting first line.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.

Blair sucks in a sharp breath and turns away from the theater. She’s not in the mood for a movie after all. 

***

Four hours and two glasses of wine later, Blair texts him, her fingers trembling over her phone. Maybe he doesn’t even have the same number.

Funny thing, I wasn’t happy.

Dan’s reply comes almost immediately.

Funny thing, I thought I was over you.

Blair bites the inside of her cheek, her heart racing as her fingers hover over the phone keyboard. Then:

Maybe we could get the timing right this time.

Maybe we could.

Want to get coffee tomorrow, Waldorf?

I thought you’d never ask, Humphrey.