#trying out my hand at writing a longfic

[struckbyelectriclove]

Her figure looms over her, the lights of the vault dully flickering behind her back and casting sinister shadows that almost obscure her face. 

But Kat knows who she is. She’d never forget her until the day she died. 

Her lips pull back to reveal too-white teeth flashing a smile at her that would have sent shudders through her if she could move at all. Her former professor brandishes her wand and levels it between her eyes. 

The scream turns into a wail.

There’s a bright flash, and then nothing at all.

_ _

GAME OVER

Reset?

>Yes >No

Please input passcode: 

>”1984”

Deleting saved data, please do not turn off the power.

_ _

[noosayog]

[Said Enough] Suna might have said too much but what's he supposed to do if you won't let him apologize?

wc: 1k

contents/warnings: angst(!!!) to fluff, quick drabble bc my Atsumu exes to lovers longfic isn't writing itself

“Oh,” you say. You stare at Suna and he watches you blink once before the last bit of light in your eyes dies out, irises glazing over. 

Shit, he thinks. He’s running after you because he realizes what’s about to happen next. 

All that comes out of your mouth is “okay. Um. I’ll just…” you don’t finish that sentence before running to the bathroom and locking the door shut. 

He runs after you, but you beat him to it. The door slammed in his face, Suna rests his forehead against the wood and lays a flat palm on the divider between you two. “Baby…” 

He doesn’t know what to say. He can hear your sobs and hiccups through the door, frustrated that he’s the cause but can’t get to you. 

Scared to death thinking about what giving you your space could mean for the two of you. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. Can you please open the door so we can talk?” but he knows it’s a lost cause. It’s been a lost cause since you beat him to the door. Turning around so that his back is against the door, he crumples down to the floor, head buried in his hands. 

He should’ve known the second he saw the shutter in your eyes. He should’ve- fuck - he should’ve grabbed onto you to stop you from closing that door and shutting yourself away. He completely deserves to be single after the hurtful things he said to you tonight, and he wants a chance to apologize. Preferably, to your face. But with a literal wall between you two, you now have all night to think about what he said. All night to realize you deserve better. All night to conclude that you should leave him. Nothing scares him more than the look you’ll give him in the morning when you realize how much he doesn’t deserve you. 

The rest of the night is spent periodically checking in on you and sending apologies through the walls. Your sobbing eventually quiets down into slow, measured deep breaths and but that brings little comfort. He can only hope you’re peacefully asleep and not awake to gather your thoughts and solidify your breakup speech for him. 

–

Suna’s jolted awake next morning when the wall he’s leaning against suddenly shifts. He’s falling backwards as the door slowly opens, revealing your swollen cheeks and red eyes. 

As if his nightmares have come true, there’s no uncertainty in your expression. It’s polite and shuttered. 

“Rintaro,” you rasp, voice gravelly. 

He’s already shaking his head. 

“I think we should-” 

He can’t let you finish that sentence. If this is the last chance he’s been waiting for, he needs to do something. So he puts both hands on your shoulders, gently, and looks straight into your eyes. It takes a surprising amount of courage to face that foreign look you’re fixing him with, and he realizes how lucky he has been to always be on the receiving end of your warm gaze and easy smiles. 

“Please,” he whispers, almost begging. “Give me a chance to say I’m sorry.” 

“I think you’ve said enough,” you respond, avoiding his eyes.

“Sometimes,” he starts. “Sometimes, I say too much and I’ll try harder to not do that. But more than that, I don’t say enough. I don’t tell you I love you enough and I don’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you do for me enough. I also don’t say I’m sorry enough but I want to stop doing things that I’d need to apologize for.” 

You’re still not looking at him, but your lips are wavering and your eyes are watering. 

“But I can’t change last night, so I want to apologize. I’m so, so sorry, baby. I’ll say it as many times as I need to.” As many times as you’ll allow me to. 

His heart is palpitating and he can feel his pulse racing so hard, he can feel it through his veins. He wants to clench his fist to channel the nerves elsewhere, but they’re on your shoulders, and after last night, he can’t even think of treating you with anything other than the gentlest of touches. So you can understand how much you mean to him and how much he means to take care of you. 

Yes, he didn’t mean any of the things he said last night, but he does mean to treat you well. He only hopes those intentions are enough. 

Suna puts a hand on your cheeks and wipes the tears away with his thumbs, fingers lingering. Your tears don’t stop and the hiccups are starting again. You’re shaking your head at him and his heart drops. He hasn’t thought about what he would do if you don’t accept his apology. His voice is shaking a bit as he pleads his case. 

“I… don’t want to break up,” the last two words whispered, as if he was scared that saying them aloud would give them power. 

You’re sobbing, not saying anything, just shaking your head. 

Suna doesn’t know what that means, only desperately hoping that you mean you don’t want to separate either. He throws his arms around you, tightly crushing you against his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for impact, and he can hardly believe it when you reciprocate. 

“You were so mean to me, Rin,” you blubber. 

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” 

“I hate you,” you’re wailing right into his neck now. 

“I know, I know. I love you.” 

When your sobs finally settle down, you keep your arms around his neck. “Rin, I’m sleepy,” you murmur, nuzzling into him. 

He hums, the relief and lack of sleep hitting him all at once. He’s just as unwilling to let you go as you’re unwilling to let him go, so he picks you up by the thighs and takes you to get the sleep you both missed out on last night.

[vixstarria]

Apples

Alright, so this is actually going to be included in a future chapter of my longfic as a flashback, but the readership of that is a small fraction of that on my one-shots, and I giggled too much writing it to not show it to the masses.

Astarion x Tav, Act 1

Humour, ponderings on the topic of vampire physiology, my Tav being a gremlin

Rated M, I guess.

Approx. 600 words

Somewhere along the Risen Road

Astarion sat with a book, trying to ignore Asmodea as she perched next to him, loudly crunching on an apple. It was proving to be impossible to concentrate under her inquisitive stare. 

“Yes?” he said, sighing. 

“So does pussy taste like ash to you?” 

Astarion wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

“Must you be so crass?” 

“You’re really going to continue the ‘uptight noble’ act after last night?” she said with a smirk. “And I’m actually being considerate, not crass – it was only after, that I remembered vampire taste buds have certain quirks.” She shifted where she sat. “I wouldn’t shove your face into an ash tray,” she said, sounding almost apologetic, before biting into the apple again.  

“Very well,” Astarion said, shutting his book. “No, pussy tastes like pussy. And yours tastes like-” 

“The finest nectar, divine ambrosia, blah blah,” she interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand, talking with her mouth full. “But why?” 

“I... I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose it’s all similar to blood in that it’s still produced by the body. And-” he cut himself off, with a shake of his head. “Do you really want to talk about this?” 

“Just trying to understand you better, that’s all,” she said, swallowing. “Hmm,” she hummed, before leaning towards him with a grin and beckoning him with a finger.  

Astarion glanced in the direction Wyll and Karlach had walked off. The group was taking a short break. Their tryst in the night seemed to have gone unnoticed by anyone, and he didn’t want to make it known, at least not yet. Satisfied that they were alone, he pressed his lips against hers in a kiss. Her tongue cautiously sought his own, and he let it, before pulling away.  

“Did that taste like ash?” she asked. 

“No, that... tasted the way an apple smells,” he answered. 

“So it tasted like apple.” 

“No, it tasted like the smell.” 

“That’s the same thing,” she argued. “And do you like the smell of apples?” 

“No, it’s not the same thing,” he sighed. “And I suppose, but... Hells, how do I explain it? ...You enjoy the smell of roses, yes? But you wouldn’t want to eat one, now would you? And if you did – it would not taste the way it smelled anyway. ...Do you understand?” 

Astarion supposed he should have been annoyed by her questioning, but something in her earnestness placated him.  

Asmodea let out a prolonged “ahh” of comprehension, and he thought that would be the end of it, but then she extended her half-eaten apple towards him. 

“Lick it.” 

“What?” Now he was getting irritated.  

“Don’t chew it, just lick it. Have you tried regular food since getting tadpoled, anyway?” 

He had, and he had immediately regretted it, but he obliged her anyway.  

“Ugh,” he grimaced. “Now it tastes like ash.” 

“Fascinating,” she said, biting back into the apple. “Perhaps it’s the juice being mixed with human saliva that makes it palatable for you. I wonder if there is a minimum ratio of spit to plant liquid that is required...” 

He opened his book again, determined to ignore her.  

“I could feed you like a mama bird feeds her hatchlings,” she continued thoughtfully, looking off into the distance.  

Astarion snapped the book shut again.  

“I do not need to be fed apples!” he exclaimed. “And you are the most ridiculous person I have ever met.” 

“Thank you,” she smiled. 

Series master list

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 01

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 4328, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Falling right between the awkwardness of their first encounter outside the Undercroft and their jaunt into the Scriptorium, Ominis and the new fifth year have an innocuous little meet up in the library. 

a/n: I’ve always wondered why Mc would offer to talk to Ominis about the Scriptorium, when their last interaction outside the Undercroft was so hostile, and I figured there could have been another conversation in between- not anything deep or meaningful, just a little chat that made it clear that they don’t hate each other. So that’s what this is, and although it’s now the first chapter/prologue of a slow-burn longfic, it was originally a oneshot and can still be read as such, if you prefer. Enjoy! And many, many thanks to @myokk for encouraging me to finally post this, you're the best ❤️

Masterlist || Chapter 02

Chapter 01 - Invitation

Sending her that letter might have been a mistake.

Ominis Gaunt had been sitting in the library for hours now, waiting for someone who, he now realised, in all likelihood would not come.

“I heard you running around aimlessly in the defence against the dark arts tower again today. If you enjoy my company that much, perhaps you would like to join me in the library this evening. I’ll wait.”

It was supposed to be a playful way of telling her he was not angry anymore, a sort of peace offering after he had yelled at her outside the Undercroft. 

It was only after he’d sent the letter that he realised it probably sounded presumptuous and rude beyond belief. Words on parchment couldn’t tell the reader what tone of voice they’d like to be read in, at least not until someone invented a spell for that, but it was too late to take it back.

He sighed. Honestly, he could not remember what possessed him to write the blasted thing in the first place. It had been a whim, a result of his frustration and loneliness when he heard he’d be spending another evening alone because Sebastian had gotten himself detention again. He was not usually that bold, and she was practically a stranger.

They did happen to share a best friend in Sebastian though, so one could hardly blame him for trying to get to know her. In fact, it might be long overdue.

At least that was the excuse he’d use if anyone asked. Or the one he told himself, to be honest.

The truth was, she intrigued him. It took him some time to realise it, but now that he did, he couldn’t let go of the feeling. If Sebastian was to be believed, she was curious about him too, or at least she had been, for a fleeting moment- before his temper got the better of him and he took his frustrations about Sebastian’s betrayal out on her.

Ominis sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.

Someone from across the table shushed him, and his face twitched in slight annoyance.

Oh, he really hoped they’d be gone by the time she showed up, whoever they were.

If she showed up.

By now, it seemed more likely that he’d stay here sulking by his lonesome until it was time to walk back to the dungeons, perhaps facing a bemused Sebastian who’d already know where he’d been. The two of them seemed incapable of keeping secrets from one another, after all.

That would ultimately be the proper punishment for his unreasonable jealousy, her rejection delivered by his best friend.

He’d come to the library with every intention of writing the assigned essay for Herbology, determined not to care too much about whether she’d take him up on his invitation, but it was a lost cause. His self-spelling quill wouldn’t work properly unless he concentrated on the precise words he wanted to put on the parchment, but with his head filled with thoughts of the new fifth year and the undefined nature of whatever relationship they did or didn’t have, all he had managed to write so far was an embarrassing mess.

Ominis considered writing with his own hand, but thought better of it. He could, of course. He’d make notes or short letters without his enchanted quill regularly, but writing an entire essay without being able to tell when the lines would inadvertently run into one another was a daunting task. He’d have to use twice as much parchment as anyone else, and he already felt sorry for Professor Garlick, if she’d have to decipher the mess.

Finally, he decided to just give it up. The door opened, and once again, he strained his ears. He was able to recognize her footsteps by now. Not her, just some unfortunate chap getting chewed out by Madam Scribner for returning his books late.

He was starting to feel ridiculous.

It felt like hours since he’d hurried through the castle, almost slipping on the wet fallen leaves covering the stairs when he left the owlery. Heart thumping with excitement, he’d even made sure to sit at a table where he would, hopefully, be seen by her as soon as she walked in, but far enough away from the librarian to have a conversation without being reprimanded for disturbing the peace and quiet.

Actually, if he hadn’t been so concerned that she might not see him and leave, or that he might miss her coming in, he would have preferred a table in the farthest corner on the second floor, away from prying eyes. She was still the talk of the school and gathered attention wherever she went, and “What is she doing with Gaunt?” was not something he wanted to hear whispered in the corridors.

Thankfully, it was one of the last warm and sunny days before the autumn chill fully set in, so most students were happy to make the most of it and took their work outside. Even Cressida Blume still seemed determined to let Madam Scribner forget her face (not that she would), and he hadn’t heard any other classmate of theirs either. 

Sebastian’s detention was pointless busy work as usual- scrubbing or cleaning or something of the sort. Truthfully, Ominis had ceased to pay attention when his friend complained about his punishments long ago. Whatever it was, it kept him far away from the library- no one was foolish enough to try and “punish” Sebastian by letting him get his hands on even more books.

Not that it mattered whether they knew the curious onlookers or not. She was still the object of everyone’s interest and admiration, and with the way things were going, that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. Not while she was so eager and endearing, always willing to drop everything the second someone needed something from her.

Right, it wasn’t like her to deny a request from a fellow student. She’d usually jump at the chance to do someone a favour, even if it came from someone she’d never seen before, even if it was much more bothersome than studying in the library for an hour or two.

So why wasn’t she here?

She wouldn’t have shown anyone his letter, would she? Unless she didn’t have to, if the owl reached her at an inopportune time, Merlin knows who else might have read it over her shoulder.

Ominis could imagine it, them sitting in a circle in the Hufflepuff girl’s dormitory, passing his letter around, seemingly teasing her about it in a playful attempt to get her to be wary of him. Until her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d ask them why precisely they found him so disagreeable. He shuddered. 

According to Sebastian, she already knew. She knew, and didn’t care. 

According to Sebastian, she also felt apologetic and regretful about their last encounter, much like him.

And if that was the truth- he couldn’t be entirely sure it was, but if it was, why wasn’t she here? Ominis tapped his quill against the parchment, piercing tiny holes into it and probably soaking the table underneath with ink. 

He was slowly but surely getting annoyed now. If she was as regretful about invading the Undercroft as Sebastian had made it seem, she should have pounced at the chance to meet up with him and make things right.

Of course, that had been weeks ago, so she might have gotten over it by now. Still, he wasn’t good enough for her to at least show up and quietly do her homework on the opposite side of the table? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any work to do. She always did, with all the extra assignments the Professors threw at her to help her catch up, and even if by some miracle she didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt her to simply study, for once.

She could have come. Ominis frowned. Unless she actually couldn’t.

Notorious troublemaker and rule breaker that she was, he’d often half jokingly wondered when her recklessness would come to bite her in the arse, only it wasn’t unthinkable, was it?

Her duelling skills didn’t make her invincible, it was entirely possible that she was lying dead, or dying, somewhere on the cold forest floor. Small animals and insects already crawling under her robes and the scarf she always insisted on wearing, slowly devouring her corpse while a confused owl pecked at her, trying to get her cold hands to take his stupid, embarrassing letter. 

Ominis took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to squash the slowly rising dread.

Stop it. She was  fine, she had other things to do, or she thought she was in trouble with him again and didn’t feel like being chastised and insulted all evening. It was annoying that she didn’t even want to find out what he wanted from her- nothing, really, except perhaps a chance to clear the air- but he had no right to complain, he was the one who messed things up.

And his annoyance was merely a way to mask his fear of rejection.

He slumped down, his forehead hitting the table with a soft thud. Ears filled with the sounds of soft footsteps, turned pages and scratching quills, ink from his quill staining his fingertips but nothing to really occupy his mind in her stead.

Why couldn’t he have spent a few more minutes to rewrite that letter, although one could barely call it a letter- the note, why couldn’t he have tried to sound a bit more friendly and inviting? Then again, even a second longer might have caused him to rethink the whole thing, keeping him from sending it at all.

All things considered, that would have been a blessing in disguise, saving him from making an absolute fool of himself.

He’d heard it countless times from the Sallow twins, trying to console him in his moments of self-doubt; that he was a good person, a good friend, that he was fun to be with, but it’s not like she’d ever seen that side of him.

The two of them would make an odd, unlikely combination, but he wanted to get to know her, be near her. His invitation had been a final act of desperation- or perhaps insanity- a desire to hold on to the strange but comforting, tender feeling that rose in his chest whenever he heard her voice in class or her footsteps in the hallways nowadays.

At the very least, he wanted to make sure there was no lingering resentment between them.

The library door opened again, and the next sound to reach his ears suddenly made his head feel blissfully empty. 

It was her voice, and he instantly straightened his back and cocked his head to the side to listen better as she greeted the librarian.

She made her way through the library, with eager steps, drawing closer until he could smell her signature scent, then until he could hear her breathing. Ominis noticed she was slightly out of breath.

Had she been in a hurry?

To meet him?

In spite of the confusion, the sick feeling inside him dissolved almost instantly, all thoughts of why she made him wait only to show up hours later forgotten. She cared. She cared at least enough to give him a bit of her time.

“Hello, Ominis,” she said.

He knew she wasn’t one for formalities, calling all of her classmates by their first name without invitation. 

What surprised him more was the lack of any bitterness or trepidation he’d expected to hear in her voice, instead, she sounded cheerful, excited, almost.

“There you are. Care to sit down?” he replied, trying his best to sound unbothered while ignoring the sudden flutter of nervousness in his stomach. The scraping of the chair from across the table told him she did.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I’m really sorry.”

Are you?

She sounded genuinely apologetic. Suddenly he realised, with another bout of nerves, that this would be the first time they actually had a proper conversation. Without any shouting. She was here for no other reason than to spend time with him, and more importantly, because he asked her to.

Ominis took perhaps a bit too long to answer, but she didn’t seem to notice. It sounded like she was busy taking her textbooks out.

“It’s all right. It’s not like I was just wasting time waiting for you, I was quite busy.” It was almost not a ridiculous lie, considering he’d been busy indeed, desperately craving her company, making a mess of his homework, hoping she’d care enough to show up. He hoped she wouldn’t think too hard about the messy, half empty parchments littering the table. 

It wouldn’t be fair to be upset about it. After all, he invited her on short notice and they never agreed on a time to meet.

“I left as soon as I got your owl, but it took me a while to get here,” she sighed, casually pushing aside his mess on the table to make space for her own.

Why? Where have you been?

Obviously not on school grounds.

“Why would that be?” he said, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I was near Aranshire.”

“Aranshire? What were you up to over there?” He raised his eyebrow. He knew it was one of the Hamlets, the one close to Hogsmeade station, if he wasn’t mistaken, but he couldn’t judge exactly how far away from the castle it was.

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this, and she, ever so perceptive, noticed.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” she said airily.

She doesn’t trust me.

Ominis knew he shouldn’t hold it against her. They barely knew each other, after all, and yet he couldn’t help the tiny stab of annoyance as she was lying to him yet again. If it had been Sebastian, she would have told him. 

Then again, Sebastian had never threatened to get her in trouble with the Headmaster.

“Anyway, on my way back something came up and I looked a bit dishevelled by the end of it, and it took me a while to sort that out. That’s why I’m late. I really am sorry.”

“You looked… dishevelled?”

She hummed in agreement, taking a moment to shuffle around pieces of parchment before answering properly. “Just a bit.”

“You do know I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed, and Ominis was almost disturbed by how much he liked the sound of it.

“Fair enough, I suppose, but others would, and I wouldn‘t want to give anyone a reason to stare, or… talk more about me than they already do.”

Ominis tensed. He’d always been aware and annoyed at how much the entire school seemed to gossip about her, but he’d never considered that she’d know, or how she felt about it. There was an odd sort of undertone in her voice.

He wondered yet again how much she knew, or guessed, about the things others said behind his back, when they thought he was out of earshot, always underestimating his hearing. They were careful when Sebastian was close, but they had no reason to hold back when it was just her.

So was she concerned about what the others might say if they saw them together? For her sake, or for his? He was beginning to feel sick again.

“Why did you look ‘a bit dishevelled’ in the first place?” he asked in an attempt to return to the original subject, and perhaps lighten the mood a bit.

“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. “I had a run in with some spiders.”

Oh no.

“Really, nothing to be concerned about.” She added quickly when he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something.

If he had to guess, this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened- in fact he knew it wasn’t. Dragons, Trolls, Dark Wizards, now this- and Merlin knew what else in between. She almost seemed to enjoy it, always roaming around, curious to see what else she could take on.

That recklessness made him uneasy. He had spent the last four years with another one like that, and the two of them being best friends felt like pouring oil in a fire.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Nothing a bath and a Wiggenweld potion couldn’t fix,” she reassured him.

So you did get hurt.

Ominis frowned. He couldn’t smell any blood, and didn’t hear any strange whispers when she came in. She also didn’t sound as if she was in any pain, so she most likely wasn’t lying when she said she was fine now. Her having just taken a bath also explained why the scent of her soap was slightly stronger than usual and not mixed with the earthy, piney smell of the forest that always clung to her when she’d been roaming around the highlands.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught Ominis by surprise. “Certainly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a bit tense. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

Even without sight, he could guess she was pausing to look at him expectantly. Merlin, did she think that’s why he asked her to meet him?

“No, I…” There were a lot of things he would have liked to say to her, and yet he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

He had to say something, though, because the silence between them as she waited for Ominis to finish his sentence was starting to feel oppressive.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how much he was stressing over what, to her, was a casual conversation she had with dozens of others on an average day.

For Merlin’s sake, they were classmates sitting in the library, making smalltalk.

Time to change the subject.

“Really though, what were you doing out there?” He tried his luck again.

“Just the usual.”

Ominis barely managed to suppress a frustrated sigh. “Which would be…?”

She seemed to consider him for a moment. The building frustration from her annoyingly vague answers must have been evident, and Ominis thought for a split second that he’d pushed too far.

“Nothing too exciting. Chatting to some of the locals. Looking for good spots to collect potion ingredients, that sort of thing.”

“Sharp must be very proud of you.”

She laughed that melodic, infuriatingly infectious laugh of hers, and Ominis was both relieved and grateful that the atmosphere lightened considerably again, even as the annoying git who shushed him earlier made a disapproving noise. If she’d heard it, she’d decided to ignore it, and Ominis was more than happy to follow her lead.

“I’m not doing it to please Professor Sharp, I quite enjoy potion making- unlike some of us,” she teased.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t bother denying it, it’s not like I’m imagining the sour look on your face every time I look at you during Potions.”

So she hadn’t been ignoring him, even after everything that had happened. His insides squirmed pleasantly. Perhaps she was still curious about him, after all.

Ominis cleared his throat.

“So, had any success in finding those potion ingredients?” he asked, awkwardly attempting to keep the conversation going.

“Hmm. I’m running out of Horklump juice, but there weren’t any around. I did find some Ashwinder eggs though, at an abandoned poacher camp nearby,” she rambled on absentmindedly, still shuffling around her pieces of parchment. “I’ve always been curious about them, you know. I’d like to see one someday.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. They’re dangerous criminals, you know.”

She held back a laugh. “I meant an Ashwinder- as in the creature, not the poachers. I’ve seen quite enough of them.” 

“...it was a joke.”

She giggled. “I’ve been thinking about how I always collect their eggs as potion ingredients, but I’ve never actually seen one,” she mused.

Well, they weren’t exactly the sociable sort, even for snakes.

Ominis had met an Ashwinder once, in the gardens behind his family home, after it had slithered out of an abandoned fire his older brother had been playing around with before he’d wandered off, bored. Excited to have someone to talk to, someone who he’d hoped wouldn’t either dismiss him or use the opportunity for some casual cruelty, Ominis had bent down to greet the little snake. It had told him to sod off and slithered away to lay its eggs. Back then, he’d been sulking the whole day over it.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Shame, he thought ruefully. There he actually had a somewhat funny story about the very thing she was interested in, and he couldn’t even tell her. Not without revealing secrets about himself that he’d rather keep tightly guarded.

“Have you ever heard one?” She inquired.

Ominis stiffened instantly. So much for his tightly guarded secrets. He really would have to wring Sebastian’s neck one of these days. “What do you mean by that?”

“I only meant, well…,” she answered sheepishly, “… you obviously wouldn’t have seen one, and I know you have good hearing. Sorry, did I say something wrong?” She was obviously taken aback.

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He relaxed. So Sebastian hadn’t told her that, at least. He cleared his throat. “You would have to be lucky to see one. They are born from unattended magical fires and only live for about an hour, barely long enough to lay their eggs.”

“Ah.” She was fumbling with her quill, running her fingers along the feathered edges, from the sound of it, seemingly deep in thought, and thankfully not angry at him for snapping at her. “If they’re born from fires, what are they laying eggs for?”

“I think that’s a question better asked of Professor Howin,” Ominis replied. “You’re the one taking Beasts class, not me.”

“So… could I just make a fire somewhere, ‘unattend’ it and wait for one to come out?”

He gave her an amused snort, not sure if she was being serious. “Are you taking a page out of Peeve’s book, trying to burn down the castle?” Brows furrowed, he still flashed her a warm smile as she had a fit of giggles, and a pleasant warmth spread through his body.

“Perhaps I should take a page out of Peeve’s book, that’d make us even,” she said.

Ominis was waiting for her to explain that rather puzzling statement, but she didn’t.

“Meaning…?”

“Never mind.”

He brushed it off. This was all he’d wanted, sitting together, having a pleasant conversation, laughing about each other’s jokes. And yet it didn’t feel quite right, there was still a wall between them, made up of secrecy and lies.

She finally seemed to have started on her work, the scratching of her quill adding to the symphony of the rustling paper and soft hums and whispers surrounding them.

Apologise for yelling at her about the Undercroft.

Ominis wanted to, he really did, and if he was ever going to, now was the time- but he was still embarrassed just thinking about it and he didn’t want to ruin their first decent conversation by reminding her of how horrible he’d been. It might have been easier to talk about if she was the one to bring it up, and he quietly wondered why she didn’t.

Through the ambient sounds, he heard Madam Scribner get up from behind her desk, about to make a final pass through her sacred halls. Reminding students not to leave a mess, picking unwilling volunteers to tidy the mess of the ones who didn’t listen amongst the stragglers who couldn’t flee fast enough, he was almost tempted to make sure it’d be the two of them.

It wouldn’t be fair, though.

Based on her account of how she’d spent her evening so far and his own idle contemplations, they’d both need to dedicate the remaining hours of the day to schoolwork, and she’d already dropped her previous plans as soon as she received his owl- a courtesy far beyond anything he deserved.

They were out of time.

“We should probably leave.”

There she was, slipping through his fingers again. If only she’d arrived half an hour earlier, maybe he could have gathered his nerve and apologised, at least.

“Wait, weren’t we going to do our homework? I haven’t even started, to be honest.”

Ominis smirked. “The library is about to close, you know. I’ve been here for hours before you came in.” Not that he’d been very productive in that time.

“Oh.” She sounded defeated- and perhaps even a bit disappointed?

That might have been wishful thinking on his part.

“I guess I’ll head back to the common room then. If I’m lucky, Adelaide’s still up and I can copy from her.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheating on our assignments, are we?”

“Oh, well. I can’t always be a saint,” she said cheekily.

For a second, Ominis had the urge to walk her back to her common room, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. It felt like it would be too much, walking around the castle with her, giving others the opportunity to make assumptions about a relationship that he himself didn’t yet fully understand. 

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said instead. He gathered his things, ignoring the growing regret and guilt.

“See you, Ominis. And… if you enjoyed my company enough, perhaps we could do this again?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Sure.”

She laughed. “Cheers.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Her scent and her laughter still lingered and he was left wondering what, if anything, this little get together had accomplished.

Ominis could not have known this would be their last proper conversation before the three of them entered the Scriptorium.

more a/n: Before the Scriptorium though, the next chapter will be a little trip down memory lane, featuring the earful Sebastian got for showing her the Undercroft. It’s finally here! I started working on this a while ago, so if you’ve read this far, thank you! Like I kind of hinted at in the beginning, the concept of this fic is basically “what could they have been up to ‘off-screen’, if canon events stay exactly the same” (up to and including the fact that no one ever mentions mc’s name, we’ll see if I live to regret this decision), and I don’t know if that’s interesting to anyone but myself, but I’d be happy if anyone wants to be along for the ride.  Writing from Ominis’ pov is a challenge and I try my best to keep in mind that he’s blind when describing things (so don’t expect visual descriptions of anything, ever), but hopefully without constantly drawing attention to it, I hope I managed to do that respectfully and realistically. That said, if anything feels off to you or you have questions, feel free to let me know. And finally, English is not my first language. I proofread and edit everything I write to hell and back but if I still misspelt anything or obviously misused a word, let me know so I can fix it (just be nice about it). There’s a lot more I wanted to put in the authors’ notes but I think it’s already rambly enough, so I’ll leave it at that. Until next time? (I’ve written a few chapters ahead and I’ll try to upload regularly, but realistically, I probably won’t manage it more frequently than once every 1.5 to 2 weeks)

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt.1

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary Negan, your gym coach, takes pity on you after seeing the way your peers treat you. tags mentions of bullying/ mild bullying, second person pov (sorry lol this is old pls forgive me) note this is an old WIP that i'm choosing to post because i haven't had time to write anything new (I WILL EVENTUALLY, I PROMISE, BUT COLLEGE IS DRAINING MY FREE TIME). this is part one of a multi-part series, maybe it'll even evolve into a longfic, who knows. btw you guys will have to pry coach negan x student reader fics from my cold dead hands bc i loooove writing these.

wc 1.3k

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

You stood lined up with the other students in your PE class, waiting to be chosen by the team captains for this class' soccer game. It didn't even phase you how every other student was picked before you, leaving you the last one standing until one unlucky captain had to pick you. That's just how things went, you were always the odd one out. Even now, everyone wore the usual school issued PE uniform of a t-shirt and shorts, while you had on the sweater and sweatpants version- in ninety degree weather. You were just honoring your father's, the town's local pastor, principles of modesty. Being the pastor's daughter felt isolating. Nobody invited you to things or wanted to be friends with you for fear that the indecencies of their typical teenage behavior would get back to their parents by way of the pastor; and of course he'd get that information from none other than you, his daughter. You never would, though. In middle school, you learned the hard way to not be such a narc, but by then it was too late and nobody trusted you or even wanted to be near you. 

 "Over here!" you shouted to your teammates, wanting them to pass you the ball. You had a perfect shot to the other team's goal. Like always, they ignored you, but it didn't matter because they scored anyway. You didn't give up on trying to be a team player, though. The gym coach, Negan, was watching the game closely and you wanted him to see that you cared and tried to put effort into his class. Maybe it was because he was the only person who ever paid you any attention, but the fear of letting the handsome man down weighed heavily on you. 

"Guys, I'm open!" you yelled. Your desperation to be a part of things was becoming so pathetic that Negan had to direct his focus elsewhere. Maybe it was by mistake, but the ball came rolling your way. Hope blossomed within you. It sounded silly, but you hoped that even something as little as you scoring a goal would make your class like you again. You kicked the ball, sending it flying to the opposing team's goal. It would have made it in if someone didn't intercept- someone from your own team, you notice- and kick it directly at you. You didn't have time to dodge it because it had already smacked you square in the face, knocking you over. You clutched your nose as you writhed on the floor in pain, salt being rubbed even further into your wound by the snickers of your classmates. 

 Negan blew his whistle and called a foul. He profanely scolded the students about their bad sportsmanship and lectured  them on treating their teammates fairly. He helped you up off the floor and led you to his office with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You sat in one of the chairs with your nose plugged up with tissues per Negan's orders after it started bleeding. It didn't seem broken, so he didn't deem your injury bad enough to send you to the nurse. 

"You can go back now," he told you once fresh blood stopped flowing from your nose between tissue changes. 

"Do I have to?" you asked with teary eyes. You were tired of all the bullying and just ready to graduate already. Your senior year was almost over and you were legally an adult, so why did you still have to put up with everyone else's childish behavior.

"You're all healed up. Don't see why you needa be in here any longer." It was obvious that he wanted you out of his office, probably feeling the same way your classmates felt about you. It shouldn't have surprised you, yet it stabbed you in the heart.  Your chin and lips quivered as you blinked back the tears burning in your eyes. 

"C-can I just stay in here?" you cringed at the way your voice cracked. He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

"Just because your sucky ass team is losing doesn't mean you can hide out here and skip class." 

"That's not why!" you pleaded. 

"Then why?" he asked. 

"Everybody hates me!" You couldn't keep it together after finally saying it out loud. You sobbed like a baby, tears streaming down your face and snot dripping from your nose. You were ugly crying but you didn't even care, it wasn't like you had anyone else's respect to lose. Negan got up and closed the door in an attempt to save you some dignity. Your breathing became short and rapid as your bawling made it difficult to take in oxygen. 

"Teenagers are so goddamn hormonal and dramatic. Nobody hates you, kid," he said disinterested. 

"E-even you d-d-do!" you choked out before going back to wailing. He felt bad for you. He saw the way others treated you and it made him feel worse seeing you long for the acceptance of people who rejected you and took pleasure in your pain. But that's high school for you.

"What makes you think I hate you?" he asked, genuinely curious. He didn't hate you, not even close. He just couldn't stand seeing you walking around like a kicked puppy-dog, it was pitiful. You tried to explain your reasoning, but everything that came out of your mouth was an incoherent blubbering, stuttering, and hyperventilating. He pulled you up from the chair and cradled you in his chest, just letting you sob into his sweater. He hushed you and rubbed your back in soothing circles. It was the best he could do, he knew his words sure as hell couldn't offer the comfort he wanted to give you. Your sobbing eventually calmed into small hiccups and occasional sniffles. 

"Why does everyone hate me?" you whispered. He wanted to tell you that they didn't and that's just how high schoolers are, but he didn't want to lie to you. 

"You're almost outta this goddamn shit hole, kid. Jus' keep your head held up high and finish the year off strong." He clapped a strong hand on your shoulder for added reassurance. You gave him a small smile before trudging out of his classroom and to the locker room now that the class was over.

...  

 Negan comforting you in his office that day made you feel like he was a safe space. He seemed to be the only person who cared, or bothered to do anything about how others treated you, even if it was just the bare minimum, you felt it was better than nothing. 

"Coach," you muttered shyly, standing outside his open office door in the gym. He glanced up at you from whatever work he was doing and immediately sighed. It was a miracle to him that you were oblivious as to why people bullied you. Here you were, dressed so matronly in a long floral skirt that resembled an old woman’s wallpaper and an awful knitted sweater. He knew you were a pastor’s daughter, but did you really need to dress the part. 

“What do you need, kid?” He asked, focusing on his work again. “Can I eat lunch in here?” 

“Why? The bathroom crowded or somethin’?” He joked. When you nodded your head yes, he immediately felt guilty. He motioned with his hand for you to sit in one of the chairs before his desk. You happily took a seat before offering him half of your sandwich. 

“It’s turkey,” you said when he looked at you strangely. He accepted the half and ate it while he worked and you sat in silence enjoying the change of scenery. 

“You don’t actually eat lunch in the bathroom, do you?” He asked. 

“There’s nowhere else for me to sit,” you admitted shamefully. 

“That is  fuckin’ disgusting!” You shrugged your shoulders and went back to your sandwich, embarrassed to let Negan see how pathetic your life really was. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“Look, if you have nowhere else to sit, you can eat lunch in here.” You visibly perked up, a your face splitting into a joyous smile. 

“Really?” 

“Don’t make me fuckin’ regret it.”

next part ▶︎

[fangswbenefits]

ruby i need help writing sexy smut please

Okay! This one might be long, so buckle up:

(also, this is just my personal preference and how I approach smut)

I like to separate smut into two categories: the emotionally charged one and the more technical/physical one.

Ideally, you'd want around 50/50 of each, but that will always depend on what you're trying to achieve.

Example:

- When I write oneshots, I tend to go for the physicality of it as I'm usually exploring tropes/kinks in under 3k words. I will describe what's going on with their bodies and how they explore each other physically and react to thos (possibly) new kink. This is not to say my oneshots are void of emotions from whichever character's POV I choose. I still dive briefly into their emotions as a means to contextualise the scene and set the pace. I'd say it's around 80/20.

- For longfics (such as The Arrangement), it's paramount that I prioritise emotions and feelings while pairing it with the act itself. Since I'm writing from Tav's POV, it's important to show readers how she feels about them being together so intimately again. And I don't mean how she feels about having his fingers inside her, for example, but rather how the entire moment feels. It's about exploring body and mind, if you will. I try to keep it at 50/50, but it depends on the context of the scene itself.

Now, with that out of the way: more is more. Describe everything that feels appropriate. Sure, if you just mean to rush through the scene, there is no need and no one will dislike it for it. But if you want that added layer of emersion (which, to me, is essential) then you should try to describe the act itself.

Case in point:

- He undid your shirt and gazed at the exposed skin.

vs

- His fingers moved to the top button of your shirt, undoing it slowly as his hand travelled down your torso, working on exposing your flushed skin to his prying gaze with each expert tug.

See the difference? Which one do you enjoy the most? The first example can be used. This is not right vs wrong. I am simply showing how more is more when it comes to smut. Again it will always depend on what you're trying to achieve and how comfortable you feel. Some people just want to rush through the smut scenes.

Hope this helps 🩷

[chestcongestion]

Losing Your Grippe- Ch.1: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Chapter one of the Ha/zbin Flu Longfic here we go! I'm having so much fun already with this one and I'm excited to see where we go from here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Word Count: 4,432

Content Warnings: Contagion, Really Really sad Cha/rlie (not triggering, but I know it broke my heart to write sometimes, it's hard seeing her sad)

“Eh’ptschew!” 

Charlie pinched her nose using her non-dominant hand and rubbed at the sensitive skin with her fingers, shuddering under the harsh air conditioning of the elite boutique where she was being fitted for a dress by two succubi- a pair of twins named Isla and Irma. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, was I holding the tape measure too tight?” Isla asked, sheepishly backing away and examining Charlie’s skin. 

“No, no it’s okay!” Charlie replied with a chuckle, “My nose was just itchy… snff! Can I have a tissue?” 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Irma- who had a measuring tape around Charlie’s thigh- replied, snapping her fingers and whistling for a tiny female imp who was standing against the wall, “Clover! Go get the box of tissues from my office!” 

Clover nodded, scurrying into the back room and coming out with a freshly-opened box of lotion-soft facial tissues, hopping onto a step stool and presenting Charlie with the box, her head held down to avoid meeting the princess’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” Charlie said, plucking a tissue out of the box and wiping the underside of her nostrils before attempting to blow her nose. The attempt was in vain, and after a short burst of moisture Charlie’s sinuses yielded nothing. 

“E-Eih’KtSchhew! ‘KzZsHEW!” Charlie sneezed, her nose trickling slightly as she plucked three more tissues from the box in Clover’s hands, trying and failing once again to blow her nose. 

“Please try and hold still, Your Highness, I’m almost done with your measurements,” Isla pleaded, measuring Charlie’s hips with the tape measure before measuring her inseam. 

“sNFF! Sorry,” Charlie giggled, sheepishly, dabbing at her nostrils while trying to keep still, “Thank you for accepting my order on such short notice, I promise I’ll pay enough to make it more than worth your while.” 

“Oh of course, Your Highness, it means the world to us that Hell’s heir apparent chose our little boutique to make her first ever overlord summit dress!” Isla said cheerfully.

“I wanted to be sure I got something that looked nice, this is my first time getting invited to the overlord summit, usually my dad just sends the sovereign and lesser overlords one of his advisors in his place,” Charlie explained, “This is going to be such a great advertising opportunity for the hotel!” 

“Well, we’ll make sure that you look absolutely stunning on the big day,” 

“Thank you so much!” Charlie said, her voice straining slightly, words grating against a suddenly-scratchy throat in a way that made her cough. 

Stepping down from the measuring platform and getting dressed, Charlie scrolled through her phone while the boutique staff charged her bank card for the cost of the dress. 

“Hey… I just remembered, the seamstress who I made the appointment with, the taller succubus with the star-shaped tail… is she on vacation? I wanted to speak with her about where I could buy a pair of shoes to match my dress… E-Eiih’kShhuu! E-Ehh…Eihh’ksSs-CHEW!” Charlie asked, still holding the tissues underneath her slightly-runny nose before moving a piece of her hair out of her face. 

“Oh, Zurie? She’s been out for a couple of days, she has the flu,” Irma said, nervously fiddling with the buttons on her shirt.

Charlie wilted a bit, frowning, “Aww, that’s terrible, I hope she feels better.” 

“We hope so too, the flu really seems to be going around,” Isla replied solemnly, “Hope you have a lovely day, Your Highness, your dress should be ready by tomorrow morning!” 

“Thank you, I’ll be back to pick it up,” Charlie said, finger-combing her hair and leaving the boutique, muffling an irritated cough with her fist as she climbed into the backseat of her car. 

“Where to now, Your Highness?” the driver asked. 

“Uhm-” Charlie paused, still overcome by her cough, letting a few more loose before the scratchy sensation in her throat settled down, “- Sorry. I need to go to the shoe store across the street from the Richest Cup, please!” 

“Understood, we should be there in fifteen minutes,” the driver replied, turning the key in the ignition and pulling away from the curb. 

Later that afternoon, back at the hotel, Husk was taking inventory of the liquor behind the bar counter, writing down the bottles and fullness quantities on a clipboard as he went through the roster. While he was eyeballing the amount of liquor in a bottle of blue curacao, the front doors to the hotel swung open. 

Razzle rushed through the lobby holding an array of shopping bags, scurrying to carry them upstairs so they could be put away in Charlie and Vaggie’s bedroom. Trailing slowly behind him, visibly overwhelmed, was Charlie, who quickly flopped into a stool at the bar, planting her face against the counter. 

“Rough day?” Husk asked, writing down the amount in the bottle of blue curacao on his inventory sheet. 

“Mmphhh,” Charlie muttered, her shoulders vibrating slightly as she shivered, turning her head so that her voice wasn’t muffled by the countertop, “I have so much to do to get ready for this event.” 

“You’re workin’ yourself up over the overlord summit?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow, “Pfft, it ain’t even worth the trouble. Then again, ‘suppose I’ve never had to go to a formal event as a lady, let alone one who gives a shit about lookin’ nice.” 

“I’m so nervous, I’m getting my dress made and I looked everywhere for a pair of shoes to match my dress, and I found three pairs but I don’t know which one I’m going to go with because they’re all different heights and they have different decorations and they’re all going to be so uncomfortable on my feet and-” Charlie’s rambling was interrupted by an aggressive hacking cough that she had to quickly cover with her forearm. 

Husk winced, scooping up some ice into a pint glass and pouring Charlie a glass of water, sliding it over to her on a coaster. 

“Thanks,” Charlie choked out, guzzling down half of the glass before turning away to cough again, “My throat’s been so scratchy, it’s killing me.”

Husk frowned, going back to examining the bottles of liquor, “Maybe your body’s shuttin’ down because of how much you’re stressin’ over the summit,” he remarked casually, writing out the amount of cointreau behind the bar counter onto his sheet. 

Charlie polished off the rest of her glass of water, shuddering a bit as she tried to compose herself, “It’s just so hard… I want this to be perfect, I have to examine all of my jewelry and figure out which pieces would go with my dress and whether or not they’d also match my shoes, and I still want them to complement what Vaggie’s gonna wear and I still have to figure out which hairstyle I’m gonna choose and whether that’s gonna go good with my outfit and my shoes and.. And…-” Charlie’s stressed rambling began to falter as tears welled in her eyes. 

Husk stopped working on taking inventory and focused instead on Charlie as she tugged at her blonde locks, her face suddenly coated in a thin sheen of sweat and bags forming under her eyes. 

“I still have to- khff!- have to decide whether or not I’m- Khff! Khff khff!- carrying a purse or not and-” Charlie paused, taking a wheezy inhale and turning away from Husk to release another hacking cough, and another, and another, barely having time to stop and take shallow inhales as her cheeks flushed a pinkish-red and sweat trickled down her face, dripping from her chin and nose to stain the neckline of her suit jacket. 

Husk walked around to the other side of the bar, resting a hand on Charlie’s back and feeling her lungs spasming in her chest with each unproductive and throat-scraping cough, “That cough sounds rough… you alright?” Husk asked, gently patting Charlie on the back in the hopes that it would help. 

Charlie’s coughing fit stopped for a moment and she gasped, finally able to fully catch her breath, wiping at her watery eyes and looking at Husk with a pitiful, exhausted expression on her face, “H-husk?” she whimpered, shivering and leaning into his touch, “I don’t feel well.” 

“I figured,” Husk replied, feeling Charlie’s cheeks with the back of his hand before pressing his heart-shaped palm against her forehead, “Damn… you’re burnin’ up. Here, I’ll help you get to bed.” 

Husk gently grabbed hold of Charlie’s wrists and pulled her onto her feet, not noticing Charlie’s wobbly legs and weak, staggering stance until she collapsed to her knees once he let go of her. “Charlie!” he exclaimed, panicked as he leaned down to the floor and gathered Charlie in his arms, “I’m sorry, I thought you could stand, did you hurt anything?” 

Charlie shook her head weakly, coughing into her fist before wrapping her arms around Husk’s neck, “My hips hurt… and my thighs hurt, but they were hurting before I fell down,” she mumbled, “I don’t wanna go to bed, I just need to lie down… I just… just… E-Eihh’PtSsHEW!” 

Husk cradled Charlie in his arms, rubbing her back as she coughed, before setting her down on the softest sofa in the parlor and watching as she struggled to settle into a reclined position, wincing with every movement as though she was in pain.

“I’m cold,” Charlie said, her voice wavering as she wiped away tears, biting her lip when her febrile shivering only aggravated the aches and pains in her body. 

Husk hurried into the hallway, grabbing a plush blanket from the linen closet and returning to the living room to spread the blanket out over Charlie’s shivering form, “That any better?” he asked, his stomach twisting in knots at Charlie’s discomfort. 

Charlie took in a sharp breath, letting out another aggressive cough, “A little, I’m still f-freezing,” she mumbled, her teeth chattering as she attempted to relax under the blanket, her eyelids drooping, “My head hurts.” 

Husk panicked, fiddling with one of his ears as he wandered back over to the bar and soaked one of his clean dish towels in cool water, wringing it out and returning to the sofa to place it over Charlie’s eyes. For a moment, out of concern and a deep desire to feel somewhat helpful, Husk gently brushed the back of his hand against Charlie’s face, a bit of relief blooming inside of him when she sighed out of comfort.  

“Better?” 

“M-mhmm… E-eihh’kSShuu! Eih’KsSshew!” 

“Alright, you try and get some rest, I’ll make sure you’re alright,” Husk said, gently patting Charlie’s back as she began to cough again, her eyes watering and her cheeks growing flushed again as she struggled to catch her breath. 

“Vaggie…” Charlie whimpered, blinking away her tears and clutching her abdomen, “KHFFF- Khff!” 

Husk’s heart swelled in his chest, and he crawled onto the sofa, gently moving Charlie until her rocket-hot and shivering body was resting against him as she sat in his lap, coughing violently over his shoulder. 

“Vaggie’s still out shoppin’, she’ll be home soon, I promise,” Husk whispered, patting Charlie’s back, “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” 

“My… chest hurts,” Charlie said, her voice growing hoarse from her constant coughing as her nose began to trickle, the skin on her nose bridge flushing pink, “I can’t… can’t be sick, have to go to the- KHHHFF!- overlord summit… already bought my dress.” 

Husk sighed, gently cradling Charlie’s back as she phased in and out of consciousness, occasionally shooting awake to cough violently for a few minutes before dozing off again, still clinging to Husk like a feverish koala. 

Three hours later, Vaggie returned from her shopping trip with Alastor, and Angel returned from his shift at the porn studio at the same time. The three were flanked by Niffty, who had accompanied Vaggie and Alastor on their excursion but was hopped up on sugar from chugging slushies out of boredom while waiting for Alastor to pick out a new bowtie. 

“Fuckin’ finally, you’re back,” Husk groaned, still sitting on the sofa and bouncing a barely-conscious Charlie on his knee as she coughed weakly over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, took longer than I thought, I wanted to pick a dress that would match Charlie’s but I ended up just getting a couple in each color, I tried to text her to ask what dress she’d picked but she never… texted me back,” Vaggie said, her voice trailing off as she noticed her shivering girlfriend still clinging desperately to Husk, her suit jacket draped over the back of the sofa and her dress shirt soaked so heavily with sweat that her bra was visible through the sheer wet fabric, “What happened?” 

“She came back from shoppin’ and faded fast, she hasn’t stopped coughing since I got her on the sofa,” Husk explained, patting Charlie’s back as another violent series of hacking coughs ripped through her chest and scraped her raw throat. Briefly, Husk pressed the back of his hand against Charlie’s neck, frowning at the searing heat of her skin. 

“How long have you been sitting here with her?” Vaggie asked, raising an eyebrow as Alastor watched in anxious silence from several paces away. 

“Few hours,” Husk replied, “She wouldn’t let go of me and she can’t stand up without fallin’ down.” 

Vaggie chewed on her bottom lip, her stomach twisting a bit with worry as she reached out to feel Charlie’s forehead, her cool fingers sending such a wave of relief across Charlie’s hot and sensitive skin that tears of joy trickled from her eyes, “Holy shit…” she said in a hushed voice. 

“Yeah,” Husk said before bracing himself to stand while still keeping a firm grip on Charlie, rising to his feet while Charlie still weakly clung to him in spite of their noticeable height difference, “This ain’t just a cold… somethin’s wrong, I think we should take her to the hospital.” 

Charlie whimpered, pushing away from Husk, forcing him to hold tighter onto her to keep her from crashing and slamming her head against the hard floor, “Noo… no hospital… ‘m not sick- K H FFf- khff-khfff!- mkay, I’m a little sick… but I-I’m okay… KHHFFF-KHFF-KHFF! KOFF-Khhff-khff!- I’m fine,” she pleaded, sweat still running down her flushed cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath, her voice hoarse and her nose slightly runny. 

“Sweetheart, you look awful, I just want to be able to take care of you and make you feel comfortable, and we might not be able to do that without a doctor’s help,” Vaggie said, brushing her manicured fingers against Charlie’s face and smiling when Charlie managed a small, weak smile in return, “Don’t you want to feel better?” 

“Mmhm,” Charlie nodded. 

“Okay, it won’t take too long, we’ll be back before you know it, mkay?” Vaggie explained, smiling when Charlie gave her another weak nod, “Alright, c’mon Husk, let’s go to the urgent care center.” 

“Right behind you,” Husk said, following Vaggie back out to the car with Charlie still in his arms, leaving Angel, Alastor, and Niffty to their own devices. 

“Awww, poor Charlie,” Angel crooned, combing out his fluffy pompadour with his fingers, “I oughtta make myself useful while they’re gone, c’mon Niff, let’s go make sure she’s got somethin’ to eat when she gets back.” 

“Okay!” Niffty cheered, speeding past Angel to the hotel’s kitchen, still riding on a bit of a sugar high. 

“You comin’ Alastor?” Angel asked, resting a hand on his hip as he scrolled through his phone with another hand for a notes app folder filled with recipes he saved. 

Alastor shook his head, sticking out his tongue and shuddering as he pictured the parlor and lobby to be crawling with microbes, practically feeling them on his skin, on his clothes, in his hair, “No, I’m a bit preoccupied… I’m going to go have a bath and then have a few refreshing shots of disinfectant,” he grumbled, snapping his fingers and vanishing into his own shadow. 

Angel shrugged, “What a wimp,” he said with a teasing smile until he heard pans clattering to the ground in the kitchen, “Niffty, don’t break anythin’, I’m comin’!” 

An hour later, Angel and Niffty were looking at silly videos on Angel’s phone after making a large pot of tomato soup that was simmering quietly on the stove, when they heard the sound of Charlie’s coughing as she, Vaggie, and Husk entered the lobby. 

“Welcome back, that was quick,” Angel said, leaning against a wall as Niffty ran in a tight circuit around his feet, still a bit hyperactive. 

“Urgent care was packed, but we got seen pretty quickly once they realized who we brought with us,” Vaggie explained, holding Charlie upright even as her legs shook independent from her febrile shivering. 

“Nice, so what’d they say was wrong wit’ Goldilocks?” Angel asked, reaching out to help Charlie stand as she struggled to stay on her feet. 

“They did a swab test and found out she has the flu,” Vaggie said, “According to the doctor we spoke to it’s been going around like crazy.” 

“e-EIih’KTtSsSHEW!” Charlie sneezed, rubbing her nose with the heel of her palm, “I’m tired…” 

“I know, I know, let’s get you a cool shower so you can get nice and comfortable in bed, Hmm?” Vaggie offered. 

“Okay,” Charlie sighed, leaning against Vaggie and grimacing in pain before turning to cough into her fist, “I’m sorry… it’s so hot… everything hurts.” 

“I know, Babe, I’m so sorry you’re sick,” Vaggie said, gently patting Charlie’s back. 

“I’ll carry ‘er upstairs for ya,” Angel said, scooping Charlie into his arms and glancing at her with concern when he felt the overwhelming amount of heat radiating off of her feverish body. Pushing that sensation aside, Angel held onto Charlie and slowly climbed up the steps toward Charlie and Vaggie’s shared bedroom, Charlie occasionally taking a shaky inhale and coughing into Angel’s shoulder while clinging to him with her arms and legs. 

“You took good care of her while everybody was gone,” Niffty said almost teasingly, standing on Husk’s shoulder, “That was nice.” 

“What? I can’t be nice?” Husk scoffed, tossing Niffty to the floor as though she were a clingy kitten, watching as she climbed him again effortlessly and accepted defeat, letting her use him as a perch. 

“You can… it’s just rare that you’re this nice to anyone… even to Angel,” Niffty observed, “But that’s good, you’re a good kitty.” 

Husk rolled his eyes, “I’ll wear it like a badge of honor, thank you Niffty,” he said, poking her before setting her back down on the floor, “I gotta finish inventory on the bar and I’m sure there’s cobwebs somewhere inside the roof or the storage attic that you can clean up until the sugar wears off.” 

“O o oo! You’re right, that sounds like fun! Bye bye Husk!” Niffty giggled, sprinting up the stairs and vanishing on her way to crawl into the hotel’s makeshift-attic storage space, leaving Husk at the bar with his bottles. 

Relishing in the quiet, Husk scanned his inventory sheet and decided to pick up where he left off, “Okay… I finished cointreau, onto the next one,” he muttered to himself. 

Upstairs, in Charlie and Vaggie’s bedroom, Charlie had gotten out of her cool bath and was wearing a pair of lightweight cotton pajamas. Exhausted, Charlie climbed into bed and curled up under the covers, still deeply frustrated that she’d managed to fall ill so close to such an important event.  

“You comfortable?” Vaggie asked, pulling a thermometer out of the drawer in her nightstand and turning it on. 

“I guess,” Charlie sighed, opening her mouth and letting Vaggie slide the thermometer under her tongue, suppressing the urge to cough until the thermometer beeped, “What’s it say? K HFF- koff-koff!” 

Vaggie squinted briefly at the viewing window on the thermometer, “104,” she said, cupping Charlie’s face with one of her hands. 

Charlie sniffled, a pitiful frown on her face as tears ran from her eyes and trickled down her fever-rouged cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I- I’m so mad at myself for getting sick- snFF!- I feel hot and everything hurts and I’m so tired and I’m going to miss the summit and it was so important that I got to go this time and the overlords are gonna be mad at me and they aren’t going to invite me again and I paid so much for that stupid dress and now I’m not gonna get to wear it and-” Charlie rambled fretfully as tears continued to fall, hiccuping sobs interrupting her as she struggled to keep it together, “This is the worst and there’s nothing I can do about it and nothing can make it better!” 

Vaggie leaned forward, embracing Charlie in a tight hug as Charlie sobbed violently, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m sure the overlords will understand and you’ll be able to go to the next summit… and we can go on a date when you’re better so you can wear your dress!” she said, rubbing Charlie’s hand in an attempt to comfort her. 

“KHFF-Koff! I don’t wanna wear my dress- SnFF!- I-I wanted to wear a pantsuit but the ladies at the boutique said a dress would look better,” Charlie sobbed. 

“Okay… well, I’ll call the boutique and tell them to make a pantsuit instead!” Vaggie said cheerfully, her heart aching desperately at seeing Charlie in such turmoil, “Does that help?” 

Charlie sniffled, wiping her eyes with a tissue, “I-snFF! Snff!- I guess… I’m sorry Vaggie, I really don’t feel good,” she said, her voice still hoarse and weepy as she tossed the tear-soaked tissue into the trash. 

“I know, Honey, I know… you’re really sick, I completely understand,” Vaggie said with a comforting smile, “What’s one thing I can do to make you feel better before you take a nap?” 

Charlie coughed violently into her forearm, struggling to catch her breath afterward as she rubbed her chest with a splayed hand, “Uhm… E-eihh-KtSshheww! Could I have a glass of apple juice? I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast but the thought of food makes me queasy.” 

“Of course, I’ll be right back,” Vaggie said, giving Charlie a thumbs up and hurrying out of their bedroom and down the stairs, pouring a glass of apple juice into a large plastic cup filled halfway with ice cubes before turning to head back upstairs. On her way toward the staircase, Vaggie was interrupted by Husk, who had gotten to the letter T on his inventory list. 

“She gonna be alright?” Husk asked, his tone slightly curious as he tapped his lengthy claws against bottles of tequila, counting them in his head. 

“I think so… I’m not too worried about anything happening to her, if an explosion can’t kill her I don’t think the flu’s got a chance… but it’s still heartbreaking to see her so miserable,” Vaggie said solemnly, “She’s really upset that she’s going to miss the summit and I’m trying to calm her down.” 

“She’ll be fine, there’ll be others… she isn’t missin’ much,” Husk scoffed, turning to shoot Vaggie an amused smile, “Best of luck, lemme know if there’s anything I can do to help while you’re takin’ care of her.” 

“Will do,” Vaggie replied, rolling her eyes playfully before saluting Husk and walking back up the stairs with the large glass of apple juice in hand.

Alone again with his bottles, Husk began writing down the amount of tequila bottles behind the bar on his inventory sheet when he felt a looming presence around him and scoffed, completely unfazed and unamused with the perpetrator’s antics. 

“Alastor, if you’re gonna skulk in the shadows like a dick, I’m not gonna humor you, either get up or fuck off,” Husk grumbled, looking over to the left of the bar as Alastor appeared out of the shadows, dusting himself off. 

“Euch, no amount of bathing managed to get me clean enough,” Alastor gagged, sticking out his tongue, “Charlie is a lovely young lady, very kind, but also the thought of her germs being on me makes my skin crawl.” 

“Oh please, you weren’t even near her, if anyone should be worried about gettin’ sick it’s me, and you don’t see me freakin’ out now do you?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms, smirking when Alastor gave him nothing but a flustered mess of indignant grumbling in response, “Mmhm, exactly.” 

“I’m half inclined to avoid you for the foreseeable future if that’s the case,” Alastor said, taking a couple of steps away from Husk and wrinkling his nose in disgust, “Catching this is absolutely not in my plans for the upcoming week… or ever.” 

“You don’t gotta worry about me, I’m fine,” Husk said, looking at Alastor with an unbothered look in his eyes and a playful smirk, “Nobody else is sick, not even close, you’re just a fuckin’ germaphobe.” 

“Indeed I am, and I wear it with pride,” Alastor said, turning his nose up in the air, indignant that Husk was mocking him for his sense of caution. 

“Well, can you wear it with pride someplace else? I’m busy,” Husk said, going back to counting bottles, his heart-shaped nose twitching slightly as he focused. 

“Hmph! If you insist… I’ll be back,” Alastor sighed, retreating into his own shadow and vanishing to go back to whatever he was doing, leaving Husk alone behind the bar with nothing but his own breathing and the quiet ambience of the evening to keep him company. 

For a moment, Husk pondered Alastor’s overblown concerns, realizing that for him the concerns were much more realistic, he spent the better part of three to four hours neck-deep in Charlie’s germs… and the flu was known for being particularly infectious… 

“Nahhh, I’m fine, Alastor’s got the immune system of a wet sock in a wind tunnel, I’ll be fine,” Husk said in a futile attempt to reassure himself, “It was only a few hours, it takes longer than that to catch it from somebody… yeah.” 

Husk paused, going back to examining his inventory sheet in silence when a violent tingling sensation from an unknown irritant radiated through his nose, causing his adorable heart-shaped button to twitch and wiggle. His nose grew itchier and itchier and itchier until- 

“HRrr’SsCHOO! H-hRrr’SSCHUHH!” 

Husk gave a damp sniffle, wiping at his nostrils with the back of his hand. Slightly nervous, Husk swallowed, choosing to ignore the fact that he felt a faint tickle in the back of his throat. 

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” Husk insisted, chasing his willfully ignorant affirmations with a swig of whiskey. 

[deityoftherain]

I completely missed @mcytfanfictionappreciationweek but I want to give some fanfic recs anyway ✨

…also ignore how most of these include flower husbands (and specifically including Scott) lol I’m aware I have a type but there are some that aren’t specifically flower husbands related I swear

^ very longfic flower ranchers slow burn mostly during a fancreated game after double life; emotionally destroyed me in the best ways with happy ending

^ same author as above but Scott finds out he’s part siren and his boyfriends (Tango and Jimmy) try to help him get over the insecurity he developed about them only liking him because he’s charmed them

^ dead dove flower husbands superpowers series can be hard to read specifically because of the topic at hand but is written well and spoilers has happy ending and we’re getting oneshots of what happens post the big bad event and it’s adorable and worth it

^ amnesiac Jimmy shows up at Rivendell

^ FANTASTIC EVENTUAL FLOWER HUSBANDS ? the writing quality and worldbuilding is fantastic I love it so much it’s going over their lives from children up and it’s so beautiful

^ snowbugs with amazing worldbuilding so far! Tango is a Mythlander prince with his siblings being Sausage, Fwhip, and Gem- I believe it’s going to be eventual flower ranchers?? but is set up to be longfics with multiple stories from what I can tell

^ been awhile since I read this but if you like roseblings I remember really liking it

^ flower husbands arranged marriage au with a bunch of characters from other things like the life/hermitcraft sphere being extra siblings and citizens to the characters in empires SMP my friend actually is writing this one hi friend

I need to get better about bookmarks or subscribing to things I really like so I can give recs easier 😭

If you’re curious about my fics, I post them under the cut on my pinned intro post on my account and my username is deityoftherain on ao3 also feel free to send me recs I love them

[the-marron]

All-Forgotten Fics of Yours Truly

You know who constantly forgets to post stuff on Tumblr? Me.

And so now when I tried to find a link to one of my fics I couldn't because it's physically not there 🙃 I am a pro at social media. So now I decided to do a round up of all the Guardian stuff I haven't posted before, just for archival purposes 😅

Guardian

1. To wild uncharted waters

Summary:

Tonight, Shen Wei is abandoning all of Aoguang’s laws and heading towards the shore, for the second time in his entire life. All for Kunlun.

Also known as mermaid!au, written for @birdbird-blog ❤

2. What happens to the heart

Summary:

“I bring an offering,” he starts, feeling the oddness of the words on his tongue. This is not an offering, not exactly. It’s not incense and gold worthy of a god, it’s not a string of worshipful words either, and yet with who they are, The Ghost King has no other word for it.

There is nothing else a ghost can offer to a god.

Novel-verse, an attempt at happy moment between Kunlun and Shen Wei

3. Spellbound

Summary:

Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei Vs Ancient Couples Counseling

Also known as duck!SW fic

4. The Way of the Househusband

Summary:

Zhao Yunlan vs household chores feat Shen Wei's existential crisis

Technically this one appeared on my self-rec post at some point and it was added to the art that inspired it but I technically didn't publish it here myself, so here it is. Domesticity, dear people, what else can I say.

5. hold every memory as you go

Summary:

Wang Zheng was her first girl friend. It sounds sad when she thinks about it, that the first woman she felt true connection with was a dead girl found by her boss and Da Qing in the woods, but that's still a fact. She didn't have true friends before, not like that.

Also known as: not a fix it people, just Zhu Hong post-canon, thinking about everything she's lost and learning to move on with hope

6. I've got a dream

Summary:

“I swear, if it turns out you have no idea where we are going, I will murder you and leave your body for the crows to find,” Chu Shuzhi said conversationally, stomping through the mud with the air of a man condemned to an unjust punishment. The object of his anger, Zhao Yunlan the Adventurer, just shrugged without turning back. Chu Nianzhi was certain that he had heard worse threats in his life, he used to work at the court after all. Though, in what capacity, Zhao Yunlan had never disclosed – ever since Nianzhi and Shuzhi met him at the inn, winning a strange map from a crowd of very suspicious looking men, all that they managed to get out of him was that he was on an adventure.

Written for an event, it has Chu brothers having The Time of Their Lives (Not) thanks to Zhao Yunlan who Apparently Has A Wife

7. Wish You Were Here

Summary:

Instead of falling asleep, Shen Wei gets to experience the millennia of longing, year after a lonely year.

Written for a friend, featuring, well, lots of loneliness

And I think that's all from Guardian? The rest was here because of the Guardian Bingo, I am pretty sure

And now, as my treat from me to me, the forgotten Luolins:

Luolin [WEILAN DERIVATIVES]

1. Unscathed [WIP]

Summary:

“Well, hello,” the man said, his lips tugging up in a smile. Not prepared for that, all Lin Nansheng could do in reply was to cough shallowly, the exertion of the chase getting to him. “You can let go, comrade, I won’t run.” Despite the lightness in his words, the voice was hushed, as if trying not to attract more attention. And yet, Lin Nansheng found himself letting go. The stranger used his free hand to support the bundle pressed against his chest.

---

A bitter and disillusioned Lin Nansheng gets pulled into much more excitement than he bargained for.

Post-canon longfic that I am still trying to write despite the lack of time. Totally not known as Godzilla AU, not at all good sir.

2. A Practical Arrangement

Summary:

It was a pure accident that Luo Fei and Lan Xinjie knew each other, and that the lady came to Cen Zimo with questions about a possible accommodation for her friend was a sign from the heavens. Luo Fei wasn’t convinced of course, but the argument of 'practical arrangement' swayed him in the end.

Technically it's not Luolin for it features an outsider POV of another deriv that has romantic plans re: LF, but let's be real here, I wouldn't break up Luolin for anyone so it's Luolin through and through. Sorry, Cen Zimo. (I am not)

3. we devour, like a falcon in the dive

Summary:

A quiet moment of trust that morphs into something much more.

Based on art, first attempt to give these two an actual happy ending and not an ambigious one

4. only a touch of dust remains

Summary:

He knows what he will find when he opens the door. He's known for a while, he's been preparing for it but still, the moment his hand touches the handle, he hesitates. He never hesitates, there is no reason for him to do so – there is nothing that can surprise him.

Angst. Outsider's POV. Did I mention angst?

5. All in the Scheme of Things

Summary:

And then Wu-laoshi brought in Luo Fei – a tall, handsome man in a well-tailored suit whose words were outpaced only by his thoughts. It was with relief that Lin Nansheng realized that they didn’t manage to discuss anything and would have to meet again – he had a good excuse to see Luo Fei again.

Modern Teacher!au, a prequel to one of my fics from Weilan Derivs week 2022.

6. Unmoored Academicals [CROSSOVER]

Summary:

A foreboding sense of familiarity washed over Zhao Yunlan. His mind had one, final thought of’ not again’, before the vortex of time opened for good and swallowed everything around him. -- The 'DCU moonlights as Shanghai University' crack that wouldn't leave my brain, with a dash of academia humour

Yeah, I wrote it mostly for crack reasons, but also to appreciate that while there are some similarities between them, SW and LNS are very different, as are LF and ZYL - it is a bit of a love letter to BY and Z1L's acting abilities, dressed up as a crack about a university jumping dimensions, just like Pratchett would have wanted

7. The man you seek is long gone

Summary:

After returning from Hong Kong, Lin Nansheng tries to find out what happened to Luo Fei. -- Mostly canon compliant with some fix-ity changes added

Presumed dead fic, because everyone needs one 🤗

8. It's falsehood's flame, it's a crying shame

Summary:

There is a man at the door, dressed in a rather expensive-looking suit, looking around with a faint air of distaste. He has a cane in his hand and a certain confidence around him – Lin Nansheng notices all of that, but it is dulled by the realization that the man is really handsome. * In an alternate universe, Chen Moqun becomes a crime boss instead of the Station Chief. Lin Nansheng follows him either way, until he encounters an unexpected complication in the form of Luo Fei.

Not-really (and yet) mafia!au which is also my first Luolin ever, written for @babischlong-six 😌❤

and now I am off to live that cryptid life because there are still at least a dozen weilan derivs fics that I haven't posted here either but I don't have the energy to do it today. Better to do something than nothing and all that ~

[pseudonymphomania]

HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

February was the month I became involved in the Obey Me fandom. I had some time last year and I was so inspired that I ended up writing a longfic, but it simply wasn’t enough for my newly obsessed brain. I was a traditional artist until last year when I decided to try my hand at digital art. Uh. It was difficult. I was so frustrated. Canvas size, where my tools are, how brushes work, making a colour palette and layers are all examples of things that I now take for granted these days. Dialuci was the entire reason I didn’t just give up and throw it all away. In fact, they became the reason I got better. I was determined to depict them in whatever scenario I had in my mind even if it was going to be a visual travesty. I focused on the most important thing; having fun. Over time, they became proof-of-concept that improvement is tenacity and repetitiveness.

My first and most-popular fic is Self Control. I spent exactly two months on it powered by creative inertia and an intense hyperfixation that I had not experienced since my teen years writing on Fanfiction.net; the DiaLuci ship dynamics were just that compelling and what was supposed to be a 20-Chapter loosely-connected aphrodisiac-induced smut turned into a whole play-by-play smutty epic about events before and leading up-to lesson 16 (87 chapters!). The rest is history. Now I have multiple stories under my belt and from this, even became a digital artist even though the only thing I thought I could do was write!

Spotlight: Happy Almost-One-Year Anniversary to this comment that I come back to and think about often out of all the wonderful comments I’ve gotten this past year.

I'll have you know that every time I have to write something, I try my best to place the characters in the scene so that it makes sense to someone who isn't me; I think of you every time I do so, dear reader. Thank you again for such a nice comment and representing the value of constructive criticism.

I’ll get back up and writing soon, I promise!

My biggest project to-date:

My Work-in-Progress Lineup:

Based on Obey Me Nightbringer chapter 37 and 38. I am pleased to present these two in their emotional duality. I’m planning on releasing them both at the same time because of the meaning I took from this narrative.

I started out a writer but I've been more involved in art these days. As various platforms are excited to regale me about my anniversaries, I look back on my fandom journey and I remember that you were all at the beginning of it. Thank you all for being excited to see what ridiculousness I get up to and for being a place I can enjoy my time being.

Here's to another year!

[subskz]

hi ms. rin!! long time no see ☺️

i was always reading your works & all your amazing posts but i realize today it was a long time since i sent an ask >< i hope you’re doing great!

i wanted to ask if you’re still writing the childhood friends to lovers with lee know? ever since butterfly bandage i was craving to read another longfic from you cause you write so beautifully :< & with minho being my bias i think i’ll die if you make a story for him..! not to pressure you of course 💕

-🧸

hello hello omg it really has been a while!! it’s so nice to see you again my dear i hope you’ve been doing well and taking care since we last spoke ♡

you’re too kind thank u so much for your lovely words!! it’s so sweet that u even remember i was writing that lino fic i’m really glad you’re looking forward to it 😭 it’s still very much a wip so i’m not exactly sure when it’ll be out, but i work on it all the time! here’s a few lil sneak peeks just for u hehe

also please note that a lot of this is subject to change since i’m still working on it 😽 these snippets are still a bit barebones

ᓚᘏᗢ — snippet 1

You stared at the crumpled nest; abandoned, with what was left of it quickly being carried away by the wind. Straw by straw. You felt like crying.

Don’t be so sensitive. You told yourself. It's just a stupid bird.

“Wow,” a familiar voice, soft and brusque and not sounding very wowed at all, came from behind you. “That’s amazing, isn’t it?”

You lifted your head, whipping around to find its source. Not that you really needed to, anyway. You knew that voice better than your own, by now.

“Huh?”

“They were just babies, but they already flew away.” Minho crouched down next to you to examine the remains of the fallen nest. His small fingers brushed over it, so delicately that the grass barely shifted under his touch. “Like they know exactly where they’re supposed to go.”

You rested your hands on your knees, unconvinced, refusing to look at him. Your eyes were stinging. You didn’t want him to think you were dramatic. You didn’t want him to make fun of you. He’d put just as much care into looking after them, if not more. He’d stayed with them even longer than you had. How could he be so accepting of it?

“Birds are so cool,” he continued. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, like it was summoned by his airy lilt. “They can go wherever they want.”

“Why do they have to go?” you muttered.

“Cause the world’s so big, dummy,” he said it like common knowledge, like he’d consulted the birds himself. “And they’re so small. So they gotta start seeing it early before they die.”

You puffed out a half-hearted laugh.

“You’re like a bird,” you decided.

“Mm?”

“You do what you wanna and go where you wanna.”

“I can’t be a bird,” Minho sniffed. “They fly too high. I'm more like a cat, ‘cause no matter where they go, they always know how to find their way home.”

“Like Soonie,” you said.

“Like Soonie,” he agreed. “Remember when he was gone for three days? But then he showed up again like nothing happened?”

“You cried a lot,” you giggled.

Minho huffed, looking away. “I knew he’d come back.” 

It had been one of the only times you’d ever seen him cry in your four years of friendship. He might’ve completely denied crying altogether if the subject were anything other than his beloved cat. His little brother.

“So you’ll always come back, too? Like Soonie?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I'm gonna be here ‘til I'm at least 100, or else someone will take our spot under the maple tree.”

ᓚᘏᗢ — snippet 2

Minho’s hand reached for yours. It was shaking.

“If you're scared, I can stay with you,” he offered. You could tell he was trying to sound casual, but there was an undeniable tremor there. Not breezy, not carefree; thick and heavy with apprehension. It weighed down your conscience. “It’ll be embarrassing if you’re the only one in class left behind, right?”

You remembered how he’d reacted when you traveled up to the mountains last summer, how he’d turned away from the window when the car drove along the edge of the road, with nothing but a flimsy, rusting metal barrier standing between you and several thousand foot fall. You remembered how much trouble he’d had walking straight when you first arrived at the campsite, strangely quiet, muttering to himself about how high up it was. It was too high, the air was too thin, the world was too far away. 

Those were the issues, of course. The issue certainly wasn’t that he was terrified out of his mind. A cat stuck in a tree, longing to accept help without sacrificing his pride. Unsure whether to hiss at whoever came near, or leap into their arms. He’d grabbed your hand the exact same way, back then. 

“Okay,” you replied.

He perked up, features flashing with a hopefulness that was almost enough to break your facade. 

“Hm?”

It would’ve been so easy in that moment, to tease him. To call him out, gain the upper hand on him for once in six years. But looking at those eyes—round and bright and gleaming under his glasses with an innocence that effectively wiped away every annoying thing he’d ever done from your memory, you just couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Let’s skip the rollercoaster,” you said plainly. “I’m scared.”

You weren’t, strangely enough. You wondered if Minho knew that. Of the two of you, he was undoubtedly the risk taker. His mind was too capricious to not explore every possibility there was, to not absorb everything the world had to offer until he found himself in it. It was almost exhilarating for you, to be the adventurous one, for a change. To be the one who didn’t hold yourself back.

You wanted to be bold. You wanted to be fearless. You wanted to impress him. 

But more than any of that, you wanted to stay with him. You didn’t want him to sit alone on the amusement park bench, watching his classmates have fun without him as he fumbled with the wrapping of a snack he couldn’t eat, because the anxiety had made his stomach hurt. 

“Seriously,” his grin was weak, but as he laced your fingers together properly, you could feel the quiver in his hand begin to calm. “What would you do without me?”

You simply grunted, allowing him to tug you along to the bench. You didn’t want to think about it. It was playful, not really seeking a response, but that didn’t stop his question from lingering in the back of your mind. Like a part of you knew that, sooner or later, you’d have no choice but to find the answer.

[seastarconstellation]

Does anyone want to scream about Lily Evans and her relationship with Snape with me? I'm writing a longfic and I'm struggling a little with my characterisation.

Okay, actually. I'll start:

Lily fascinates me because we know so little, and what we do know often contradicts in very interesting ways. Who Harry’s parents were is presented as a mystery that Hary solves throughout the books. Lily appears to be even more obscured than James; he has a group of friends to tell Harry all about who he was. People seem much more hesitant to talk about Lily (the marauders mostly bring her up to talk about her green eyes. That part where Lupin talks about being close with her is movie-only), and her closest friend and family actively withhold information. There are never any Griffendor women who talk to Harry about being close to his mom. It leads me to assume that Lily, a known muggle-born from a poor town in the middle of nowhere and a known associate of Severus Snape, wasn’t quite as popular as Slughorn suggested in Hbp

I’m also going to go out on a limb and say she wasn’t quite as put together as you’d assume; she had a baby at 19 or 20, in the middle of a war. I’m really trying to put what I’ve seen happen first-hand with super young parents aside. But even when I accept that Lily was able to be a good mum at such a young age, I can’t pretend that this was a mature decision. A war was happening, and Lily and James were both prominent soldiers in it. Surely she realised how much danger they both were in.

The big bombshell is, of course, her friendship with Snape. We know they became friends at eight years old, considered each other ‘best friends' at one point, that their relationship started crumbling in the fifth year and that she officially cut him off after he called her mud blood at the lake. Other posts have already masterfully illustrated how they were torn apart because they were fundamentally unable to see things from each other's point of view. Severus talks about being bullied, then dismisses the bullying other Slytherins were doing (when Lily tells him about Mulciber using dark magic on a student he waves her off. “That was just a laugh.”). Lily, on her end, seems very eager to believe Griffendor's gossip over her supposed best friend when it comes to the shrieking shack incident. They’re both hypocrites. Completely ignoring each other's issues while blaming the other for not acknowledging their own. So one thing leads to another, Snape yells a slur and Lily decided that enough is enough. Which makes sense, it’s not her responsibility to fix him if he’s starting to get radicalised. There’s a certain tragedy in baby Sneeple being thrown in the dungeon with a bunch of wannabe-death eaters at eleven, but again, that was not for her to fix.

But I’m still completely baffled by the fact that she laughed. Whywhywhy did Joanne(derogatory) write that. That’s your best friend being publically humiliated and borderline sexually assaulted, what in the hell are you smiling for. I’ve tried to argue that she’s not laughing at Snape, she’s getting flustered by James’ antics. But no, that doesn’t make sense either. At that point, she’s still very turned off by him, and she calls him a toerag only a few lines later. His show-off is precisely what she dislikes about him. This would not be charming to her even if she already had a crush.

One explanation I’ve seen is that the friendship was one-sided from Snape’s end. She pitied him when they were kids, got sick of him at Hogwarts and then dragged this dead horse of a friendship around for five years before finding a way out. Meaning that she laughed because she genuinely thought Snape being bullied was funny. And to be honest, I hate this interpretation. It’s just sad, but not in an interesting way. There’s no tragedy there. It reminds me of those fanfics on Wattpad where the love interest was only fake-dating Y/N as a joke.

It’s wildly unrealistic, renders Snape’s sacrifice kind of meaningless, makes him seem like a total idiot and her like an evil harpy. I’m rejecting it on principle.

So… then what? Lily just has a lack of empathy? Demonic possession? Honestly, it seems as likely that Joanne(derogatory) had not quite figured out what their relationship was supposed to be. Because it makes perfect sense if they don’t really know each other, doesn’t it? The smile emphasises that Snape is socially ostracised. The fact that she composes herself emphasises that Lily is a moral figure and does not approve of James’ conduct.

If you have another interpretation that makes sense, please tell me! I’d love to know how others are reading this scene because I feel it’s essential to her characterisation but I’m just not quite able to get there yet.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @kkpwnall! They have eight Stranger Things and Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!

An anonymous nominator recommends the following works by kkpwnall:

driving in your car

love is like ghosts

where's the spark?

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

wanted: pool boy at the vampire mansion

KK's works have a consistent feel of genuine, heartfelt, human connection. Whether it’s a big, dramatic scene as the climax of a slow, delicious build-up of tension, or a mundane, slice-of-life tidbit, the characters always feel true to themselves, and their voices are perfectly nailed each and every time. And by that I mean, you can literally hear the dialogues in the characters’ voices—they’re THAT good. KK explores classic Steddie themes in their longfic Driving In Your Car, and they have a handful of wonderful one-shots and two-shots, each and every one of them delving into how much these boys love each other for who they are. In short, KK’s body of work feels like a love letter of the characters. If you love Steve and Eddie, chances are you’ll love their fics. - anonymous

Below the cut, @kkpwnall answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie? 

They’re such a compelling and complementary pairing. Like, it seems like an opposites attract / odd-couple pairing on the surface, but beneath each of their exteriors, they’re so similar. They’re dork4dork, loser4loser, idiot4idiot, they’re both huge nerds but in different ways. They want and need and express affection through physical touch and words of affirmation (I mean, just look at the walking through the forest scene!) Plus they just have this insane chemistry that any time I think “there’s no way they did that, it’s all in my head”, I’ll go back and watch those scenes again, it’s just like “no, this absolutely checks out, they are so into each other from the word go”. And they’re just made for each other! I mean, come on! Matching scars? Nail bat and nail shield? Jock and nerd? They’re two halves of the same coin! What I really love about them too is that they’re both Just Some Guy, they’re silly, goofy, dorky guys! But mostly, I write steddie because it makes me happy and really satisfies part of my brain like nothing else. 

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Other than “Eddie Munson Lives” hahah, I’ll try just about anything written or recommended by a beloved mutual. Mutual pining, fix-it’s, missing scenes, and first kiss fics are top tier for me, and right now I’m really partial to fluffy romcom fics. If it’s got good flirting and banter, it’s got me hooked.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

My absolute favorite to write is mutual pining (aka the love is requited, they’re both just being stupid). Miscommunication is a close second, the kind that can’t easily be resolved with just a sticky note on the fridge. Whether it’s mishearing something or misunderstanding something (even the character misunderstanding their own feelings!), I find it super compelling to write. But for a specific scenario, my favorite will always be Steve having a bad time at a party.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

It’s impossible for me to pick just one, so I have to recommend 3 of my friends: Anyway It’s About Old Friends by @fragilecapric0rnn, and wanna be the only one for miles and miles (except for maybe you) by @judasofsuburbia, and everybody else (everybody else looks like they’ve figured it out) by @heybluechild. Anything by these fine folks is just fantastic, they’re all incredible writers and dear friends!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’d really like to write more AU’s! I’ve been tossing around ideas for college-aged+ aus (writing them a little older), 90s aus, a cowboy au… Mostly I’m just excited to keep writing them!

What is your writing process like?

Ahah it’s not much of a process. I write down every idea I have, no matter how small it is. Sometimes it’s a line of dialogue or a moment of a scene, but it all goes into the notes app and percolates in the back of my brain for a while. Eventually that dialogue or scene might coalesce into something bigger on its own, or combine with other snippets, and then ya got yourself a stew!

Do you have any writing quirks?

I really love writing dialogue, it’s my favorite way to get inside their heads, especially trying to balance what they say or don’t say, vs what they actually mean. I also love adding little details to fill out the world and the scene. It might not be necessary, but it feels like it brings everything together for me. And I like treating writing a fic like building a puzzle, trying to figure out just the right way to get all the pieces to fit together so the whole thing really sings.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’m still playing around with what I prefer. With driving in your car, I started out by posting a chapter only when the following chapter was completely written, so I’d always have one in the tank. But that got to feel too much like I was just sitting on chapters for the sake of sitting on them, so I started posting each chapter as I finished it and felt good about it. I don’t do super well with a schedule for posting fics, I’ve got too many deadlines in my life as it is haha.

Which fic are you most proud of?

driving in your car, for sure. It’s my baby, my magnum opus, my kitchen sink fic (it’s got everything). It’s got so much of myself in it, it’s very personal, and very near and dear to my heart.

How did you get the idea for driving in your car?

I wrote a long post about this when the idea was just starting to percolate, but the long and short of it is I wanted to read more fics that reflected my own experiences as an older teen growing up in a suffocating small town, where really the only option you have is to just pile in the car with your friends and drive around aimlessly, because that’s the only way you can get any freedom or privacy. I wanted to see what life was like for the fruity four trying to get back to “normal” while also trying to deal with the fact the world almost ended AGAIN, and all their complicated messy feelings for one another.

What inspired love is like ghosts?

Like many people have guessed / suspected, it’s very much inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved / Watcher Ghost Files, and a loving homage to ghost hunting shows. I’m a huge scaredy cat when it comes to anything horror, but I love a good ghost hunting show. The study room setting is also inspired by the miniscule closet-sized study rooms in the library at the college I went to.

What was your favorite part to write from love is like ghosts?

Parts of their make out scene was the first snippet I wrote and the one that really got the whole ball rolling with that fic, to try to figure out who this Steve and this Eddie are, and what would have to happen lead them to making out that hard in the study room. It was also the first steamy spicy almost-smutty scene I’d written, and it was so fun to learn how to write like that!! I also just love their banter in this fic, they’re both so sassy and ridiculous and completely gone on each other.

How do/did you feel writing where’s the spark??

Ooft this one was a doozy. This is actually the second draft, and the only time so far I’ve all but completely scraped the first draft and rewritten a fic. The first draft leaned really heavily into the loneliness of the holidays, my playlist for it was all of the most maudlin holiday songs, and it really started negatively affecting my mood and mindset. But I got some really great advice and help brainstorming from dear friends, and turned it around into a fic I’m really happy with. The holiday blues are still present, but there’s so much more love there now, and that’s really what the fic is all about.

What was the most difficult part of writing where’s the spark??

Finding that balance of holiday blues and love was really tricky, and I wrote for a lot of characters I hadn’t tried writing before either. From a technical perspective too, it was a big challenge to figure out how to keep the fic moving, and the party moving around Steve when all he wanted to do was wallow.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It’s so so hard to pick just one, but I love how this line in love is like ghosts turned out: And Steve is dumbstruck, kiss-drunk, half-fucked.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a holiday exchange fic coming out soon (hopefully before the holidays, fingers crossed), and I’m excited to dive into my prompt for lex’s winter fic challenge soon! I’d love to get the last chapter of driving in your car ready to share by the end of January. And there’s a secret [redacted] au I’m co-authoring with a very special friend that I would absolutely love to write in the new year!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just that I love this community so much. I’ve made so many incredible friendships because of this show, and I’m so grateful to be a part of this little corner of the internet. I never shared my writing publicly before finding the steddie community, and I’ve been really overwhelmed and delighted by the response to my writing and art (especially to be nominated to do something like this!! Truly an honor!). I was, at best, a casual Stranger Things fan before season 4. I wasn’t even going to watch it when it came out. But then I saw all the gorgeous fanart and gifs, and started reading headcanons, and had to check it out. I’m so so glad that I did, my life has changed so much for the better.

Thank you to our author, @kkpwnall, and our nominator! See more of @kkpwnall's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[shewhowas39]

Title: "Hard to Concentrate" Rating: Explicit Pairing: Spawn Astarion x female Durge/OC (my girl June) Words: 4.3k Summary: Astarion is bored and ants attention. June is trying to concentrate on a spell. Whatever is a man to do? (this is pure smut, a little fluffy, not even a hint of angst, late act 3)

A/N: this is set in the same universe as my longfic, Juniper & Starlight. it's going to be ages before that fic hits act 3, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun. you don't need to read J&S to follow along with this. but if you do read J&S, this may contain some spoilery previews of things to come.

***

PREVIEW

“Remind me again what you’re doing,” he says, picking at his fingernails. 

June flexes her fingers and the Steel Watcher turns one direction and then the other.  “Gale showed me some illusion spells. If we’re going into the Foundry tomorrow, I figure it’d be real useful to be able to create believable distractions. Just trying to get this perfect.”

“Right.” He watches for another moment before walking up to stand behind her chair. “June?”

"Yeah?”

“I’m bored.”

She huffs out a little laugh.  “You don’t gotta stay here with me, you know. You’re free to go out and have some fun if you want.”

“But I want to have fun with you.”

“I’d like that, too, but getting an illusion just right takes time. Especially when it ain’t my strong suit. I don’t want us getting caught because my Steel Watcher looks off.”

“It looks good! Perfect! I’d never know it wasn’t the real thing! You’re a master illusionist, my love. Gale wishes he could do illusions as well as you.”

“You’re just saying that because you want attention.”

“Yes.”

June laughs, but then she writes something down in her spellbook and goes back to manipulating the illusion, adjusting the placement of a few of the construct’s bolts. 

Astarion’s hands begin to play with her dark blond curls, carefully moving his fingers through them, pausing to massage her scalp in a way that makes her sigh with pleasure. Slowly, he slides his hands down her neck. He kneads at her shoulders, working at the stress-induced knots he can always find there. He can feel June relaxing beneath his touch. Then his hands slip lower, down her chest and into the cups of her bodice.

The press of his fingers on her nipples causes June to jump and her illusion to flicker briefly.

“Astarion!” she protests with a giggle.

“Hm?” He tries to sound innocent even as he lowers his mouth to suck on the pointed tip of her ear. 

“Oh…” The Steel Watcher flickers again as June’s pale cheeks turn a very fetching shade of pink. She swallows, then gently tilts away, swatting at him and his wandering hands. “You’re insatiable lately.”

She’s not wrong. Since defeating Cazador and reigniting the physical part of their relationship, Astarion is hardly able to keep his hands off of June. For the first time in two hundred years, he is able to enjoy sex without the heavy feelings of shame that once accompanied it, with a partner who takes his wants and desires and boundaries seriously. It isn’t as if his complicated relationship with physical intimacy has been magically repaired, but each day with her brings a little bit of progress. 

And, by the gods, it feels so good to be able to make love to her and then smile and laugh and bask in the afterglow. It’s what he wanted for so long, and now that he has it, he cannot get enough.

It doesn’t help that he finds June so bloody sexy. He always has, but lately, it seems like anything and everything about her can set him off: those big, blue eyes blinking at him, the way she gets so excited to talk about historical events anyone else would find dull, the ink stains on her hands after she has transcribed a new spell…

Hells, two days ago he found his trousers growing tight because of the way she yawned. It’s ridiculous and intoxicating, this constant desire for her. 

Which is why it is especially cruel that she is here, being so obscenely delectable, and not paying attention to him. He needs to change that. Immediately

[moonselune]

So I'm writing a longfic and throughout it Minthy adopts a half-drow kid, but I wanted to see the idea as a stand-alone snippet written in your marvelous style, if you're up to it <3

Okay I'm going down the road of accidental child acquisition and for some reason or another she has this half drow kid with her when she is trying to take over Menzoberranzen. I see her plotting in a tavern pre her return, and she just has this kid with her who is trying to show off their latest trick.

Minthara sat at a weathered wooden table in a dimly lit tavern, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on her intricate maps. Her sharp eyes scanned the lines and markings, plotting her next move to reclaim Menzoberranzen. Beside her, a half-drow child fidgeted restlessly, trying to capture her attention.

"Minthy, look! One hand!" the child exclaimed, balancing precariously on a table with one hand.

"It's Minthara, not Minthy, and I am trying to—oh, by the gods, get down from there, now." Minthara snapped, glancing up from her maps. The child wobbled, their hand trembling under the strain.

"Shut up, child eater."

"Sun scum."

"Spider kisser."

"Mongrel."

"Murk—Ow!" The child's arm finally gave way, and they tumbled off the table, landing in a heap on the floor with a crash.

Minthara sighed, a small smile playing on her lips as she smoothed out her maps. "I told you to get down from there," she chided, though her eyes softened as she glanced at the child. Seeing the devious grin forming on their face, she knew they were uninjured. She then stood up abruptly, thwarting the child's plan to kick the chair from under her.

"No fair…" the child grumbled, brushing themselves off.

"Then be better," Minthara retorted as she retrieved the chair that had been unceremoniously kicked across the room.

"Then be better," the child mocked, quickly ducking to avoid the small book Minthara tossed at them. They settled on a nearby chair, drawing their legs up to their chest and huffing. "I'm bored!"

"Then make yourself useful and come plot with me," Minthara said, her tone softening slightly.

"Really?" The child's eyes lit up with excitement as they scrambled off the chair to join her at the table. They peered over the edge, trying to make sense of the intricate plans sprawled across the surface.

"Yes, really," Minthara replied, pulling them closer. "Look here," she pointed to a marked section on the map. "This is where we'll stage our ambush. What do you think we should do to catch them off guard?"

The child's brow furrowed in concentration as they studied the map. "Maybe we can hide in the shadows here," they suggested, pointing to a narrow alleyway.

"That's a good idea. We'll use that to our advantage." Minthara nodded, a proud smile tugging at her lips. She patted the child's head, affectionately, she then motioned for them to grab a chair and sit next to her.

Throughout the night they plotted and schemed, Minthara passing on all that she knew to her new prodigy. She made a mental note to start introducing them to poisons and toxins next, build up their immunity. As the moon peaked in the sky, Minthara was drawn from her thoughts by a light snore, the child had sworn that they were simply resting their head on her shoulder so they could get to see everything from her perspective. She should have known from their ceased chattering that followed soon that you had fallen asleep.

Sighing Minthara picked the child up, being careful not to stir them from their slumber. She had never thought herself particularly maternal, well at least not in the conventional sense, she knew she would be an excellent drow mother. Perhaps she could come to a compromise for this child.

Oh my god I had to stop myself from writing a full fic this was so much fun and I hope you like it - Seluney xox

[ihavemanyhusbands]

OMG I HAVE AN IDEA about the car accident sweetie and Duncan 😭😭 what if one snowy day Duncan goes out to run some errands, promising to come back in an hour or two and the reader, taking advantage of being alone in the house, decides to pleasure herself on the very bed they've been sharing innocently thus far 🤭 she gets so lost in the sensations and the scent of Duncan still lingering on the sheets that she doesn't hear Duncan arriving to the house and catching her

OH MY GOD YEAHHHHHHHHH (also car accident sweetie is so funny lmaooooo) also i thought i was gonna write a longfic but i guess im just breaking down in parts at this point hahahaha but love it!

——

Duncan had left you to your own devices early in the morning, when the snow had barely just started falling. The weather had only gotten marginally worse, but you tried not to worry too much about when he’d be coming home.

Upon waking up, you decided to stay curled up in the warm bed just a little longer. You didn’t have a rigorous schedule with Duncan, so you preferred to take it easy as much as possible while you stayed with him.

You felt safe around him, like you had known each other much longer than just a handful of days. It definitely helped that he had been taking such good care of you, always remaining respectful.

It was virtually impossible not to develop a crush on him. He was ruggedly handsome, his frame much larger than yours. But in contrast, he had a quiet demeanor, and he seemed to be trying his best to be gentle when it came to you.

You covered yourself up to your chin, tugging his pillow towards you. His smell still lingered there, both comforting and enticing. You breathed him in, closing your eyes.

You weren’t sure if it was just desire or if it was also the need for some release, but your hand slowly inched downwards. You thought of his careful touch; The way he enveloped you in his arms when he slept, protective even while unconscious.

Your fingers passed the hem of your underwear, and you quickly discovered how worked up you were getting at the thought of him. You let out a soft gasp, instinctively bucking against your hand.

Unbeknownst to you, as your fingers found a steady rhythm that made your legs start to tense, Duncan had just returned from his errands. He was about to open the front door, but he froze as he heard the unmistakable sounds of your pleasure.

He pressed his ear to the door just to confirm, his eyes widening as his heart began beating like a fierce war drum in his chest. He hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

Desire flared within him, try as he might to stifle it. His hand gripped the doorknob tightly, but he still didn't move. He felt a flicker of guilt at spying in on such a private moment... but it still thrilled him.

He couldn't deny his own attraction to you, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away. He swallowed hard, every single muscle in his body taut with restraint as he heard what seemed to be your climax. Oh, how he longed to hear it right in his ear...

But no, he would have to pretend to be none the wiser. Look you in the eye and act like he didn't know what your moans sounded like; That he didn't constantly think of how you felt against him during the night.

Before that, though, he probably had to take a walk to calm down.

----