#wip: a path to dawn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eupheme · 1 year ago

Text

— looking back

joel miller x f!reader

rated e - 2.2k

tags: jackson-era Joel pov, angst, canon-typical violence/references to death, established relationship, Joel is an ass man, consensual somno elements, posessive!joel, body worship, dirty talk, male masturbation, spitting, touching, come marking

a/n: easing back into writing and started 2 little wips that are sort of "introspective-joel-pov-smut-fics" - here is the first one! 💕

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Or - Joel gets off just from the sight of you

He’s strung as tight as a bow. The lingering adrenaline a notched arrow, leaving him about to snap. Blood seeps into his jeans - splattered across his knees, where he had jerked the knife from the man’s neck.

It had been a mercy killing. A stranger, but they had all seen the bite. He had been the only one to do something about it.

He’s told others that you get used to it. The killing - that after a while, survival wins out.

You get over it.

But you don’t. Instead, it clings to him like a shadow, following him home - down the worn, familiar path. Inside the gates, back to Jackson.

Heavier than it’s been before. An itching beneath his skin. If he was over it, he wouldn’t have to turn himself off. Shutting away a part of himself, only to fight to come back - clawing his way out later.

An aching reminder at how short life could be. That yes, things were different - but he was never really safe.

Not really.

His path brings him to you. A beacon, guiding his way back.

His - your - home coming into view, just as the dawn creeps over the fall, wooden fences. The misty grey brightening into gold and pink with the sun, as he’s unlocking the wooden door, shouldering it open.

A look thrown out the window as he scrubs his hand clean in the kitchen - seeing that the garage light is on. That she’s home, that she’s okay. An automatic check, before his weary feet take him upstairs.

Joel sheds the layers, the jacket thrown over the railing at the top of the stairs. Fingers fumbling with his belt, pulling the worn leather through the loops before his stained jeans crumple on the floor, as he pushes the cracked door open.

The light from the hallway stretches across the wooden floor, creeping into the dark room. Where you still lay sleeping, curled on your side within the blankets and sheets. Missing him in your dreams, that space next to you long empty.

Cold - where your fingers reach out, searching for him.

His path diverts, moving to you instead of the attached bathroom. The edge of the bed sinking under his weight, a soft sound as you stir.

“‘Welcome ‘ome.” You murmur, still half-asleep. A little wiggle as your bent knee hitches higher, the oversized shirt you’re wearing bunching up around your hips.

He reaches out, just the ghosting of his fingers against the soft skin near your knee. The fluttering of heavy lashes as you fight sleep, only to be pulled under again.

Joel’s hand shifts. A warm palm pressing against your thigh. Against soft skin, so different than his own calloused touch.

Home.

It is, isn’t it? As close to he’s had in years. Decades. The old apartment in the QZ had never felt that way, not with the faded floral walls. Those small rooms that still held ghosts.

But here, his own touch lingers. Yours, melding with it. It would never be like before - the picking out of furniture, of paint. But it’s his clothes in the closet. His worn guitar that rests against the couch. His wooden carvings lining the top of the mantle, above the fireplace.

And you - you're scattered throughout. Woven blankets and thick sweaters. Books, covering damn near every surface.

A little bottle of found lotion tucked away in the bathroom. He can smell it now, as he leans over you. A bristly kiss pressed against your cheek, the curve of your shoulder.

Amber, vanilla, caramel.

He’s pulled back to the memory, the light shining in your eyes when he handed the beaten bottle over. The minuscule amount you had worked into your knuckles - the soft sigh of contentment.

A bright laugh when he had pulled you close, the murmured “smells good” against your throat, as you had squirmed in his grasp - smiling as you read the fragrance notes out loud.

Something stirs in him, then. The press of his thigh against yours, as he leans over. Eyes dragging down to the bare curve of your ass, his hand tracing cup your thigh to palm your flesh.

His already uneven breath hitching, as you sigh. That little smile - his name - murmured out as you rock instinctively into his touch. Still on the edge of consciousness, lulled off into a deep sleep with the cooling of summer.

Waking you up wouldn’t be unusual. Half the time you’re already up after these early-morning patrols. Waiting for him.

How he waits for you, on those few days where it’s you out there, instead of him. His jaw working with irritation until you’re home and back and safe, and he’s stripping your clothes from you himself.

It’s selfish to wake you, on a morning where you sleep so deeply. Even with the stress that’s eating at him, simmering in his veins.

But maybe… maybe he can just-

Joel is leaning, his mouth against your neck. A shift as you stretch, baring your skin to him as your lips curl in a smile. A soft, sleepy hum as you reach for him, fingers curving over the thick muscle of his forearm.

The hand on your ass drifting up - across to the small of your back. Meeting nothing but warm, bared skin beneath your shirt.

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Heavy-lidded eyes open then at the sound of his voice - his words - as you tilt your head. A slow sweep over the breadth of his shoulders, the curve of his stomach. The spread of his thighs as he kneels behind you. The already half-hard tent of faded boxers.

You had been waiting for him. Anticipating his return, eager for his touch. The cloud of sleep begins to clear as he palms himself, the bed shifting as your hips shift, thighs spreading open for him.

“I can take care of you,” Your voice is scratchy - husky, in the early morning. A hand pressing again on your back as you begin to roll over, holding you in place.

“You already are,” Joel groans, as your hips tilt up, off the bed. Knees pressing into the mattress as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting between them, “Stay just like that, alright?”

The combination feels erotic. His smell on the shirt you wear. The tingling throb between your thighs, the desire in his voice. How much he wants - enough that just the sight of you has him hard, thumbs catching on the waistband of his boxers to free himself.

You relax into the bed, as you watch. The weight of his hand as it moves to squeeze your ass. A pressure as he tugs, opening you up.

“Fuck.”

Joel spits in his palm, before it’s wrapping around his cock. A rough groan as some of that need is eased, with the sharp stroke of his fist.

Just letting himself look. Admire.

A sight that is only his, fingers sinking into soft flesh. The way you trust, how effected you are already - the shallow rock of your hips as the sound of skin-on-skin fills the room.

“You got a pretty little pussy, honey.” He hears himself saying. Watching how you clench at his praise, the little gasp that follows. “Pretty little holes. All for me, right?”

He can feel the weight of your gaze. Darkening, as your hunger grows low in your belly. Darting between his face and the sharp flick of his wrist.

Rarely getting to see him take, like this. Usually he would have been buried in you, by now. There’s the urge to ask, but there’s a power in this - wanting to watch him get off to you. Not having to lift a finger to do so.

“All for you.” You sigh, “Always.”

His jaw grits, teeth clicking together. A bead of precum joins the slick of his spit, that angry fire in his belly transforming.

So different that the little mouse he had taken to bed, all those months ago. Your hands covering your mouth, muffling the moans, until he had pried them away. Pinning them against the pillows, whispering filth in your ear.

Now, he can see the greed in your eyes. The way you glisten, when his own gaze drops. The shift of your thighs as he takes a second to rub himself against the curve of your ass. Dipping down to press against your core.

The tip coming back slick, in a new kind of way - fueling the pressure, building in his belly.

Your moan breaks the early-morning quiet. His name on your lips again - more urgent than before.

The little beg only sends him closer, a rough groan in his throat. His own hand too familiar - used to the quick and precise touch he needs to get off, when he had to.

In the before. In the during - when it was only words that the you of you had exchanged. Heated looks that lingered late into those lonely nights.

Hasn’t felt the urge to, since he’s had you.

He expects you to ask him to fill you, eyes caught on the enticing lift of your hips.

Caught off-guard for the briefest second, a heat flushing over his cheeks, when you shift beneath him instead. Flipping over, onto your back.

Eyes bright, teeth sinking into your lip as you smile.

“Wanna watch.” You admit, and that tension in his shoulders settles in his chest, turning sweet.

His fist tightening around his cock, as your thighs splay over his. Opening yourself up under his gaze, stretching out in front of him.

And fuck, what a sight. There’s a rolling wave deep in his core that he chases with the rock of his hips.

His hand fits perfectly against the curve of your waist, eyes caught on the way your fingers catch on the hem of your shirt.

Pulling it up over your breasts, a path that his eyes follow greedily.

“Christ, darlin’.” The words rumble in his chest.

A rough exhale as your own gaze drops to his fist. The pace that he’s picked up - the peek of the flushed tip when he strokes down to the base.

Already about to burst, like he’s a man half his age. Could say it’s just his own touch, the urge to relieve the weight of his stress.

But he knows it’s more. That warmth in his chest, a tenderness that has only softened the rough stone of his heart since he’s left Boston.

It’s there in the way that he could linger on the slick place between your thighs. But instead he’s watching you watch him. Focusing on the part of your lips, the shine in your eyes.

“‘m close.” Joel breathes, his words low. Rough. “Where do you want it?”

He’ll catch it in his palm if he needs to. If it helps you go back to sleep, after. He hasn’t given up on that wish - to let you drift off for a little longer.

The look you give him, the little smile that turns mischievous, has his stomach twisting into knots. Like butterflies, he thinks.

Your hand drifts down, knuckles brushing over the jerk of his. Soft fingers tracing over hot, swollen flesh. Only to curve over your mound, to spread yourself open for him.

“Fuck.” He breathes, again, “There?”

The answering hum is low, desperate.

“Wanna hear you ask me.” Joel pushes - needing to hear you say it, knowing it will push him over the edge.

You squirm beneath him, affected by the edge to his voice, the soft command.

“Want you to come on me.”

“Where, baby?” The word slides from his lips without thought.

The eye contact breaks, your gaze darting away with embarrassment. But after a moment it’s back - the soft heave of your breasts as you suck in a breath, steeling your nerves.

“Want you to come on my pussy, Joel.”

He can’t help the rough groan, ripped from his chest. The shift of his thighs as he pulls back, as that pressure builds. The pleasure surging instead of ebbing, as he tips his cock downward.

The next stroke of his fist pushes him past the threshold. Relief sings in his veins as he spills across your mound. Painting your abdomen with his release, eyes fluttering closed as his hearing goes fuzzy.

Drowning out his long moan, as you push yourself up. He meets you instinctually, arcing over you as his mouth is drawn to yours.

As his spend drips down the crease of your thigh, so warm against soft skin.

It feels like a weight is lifted, like he’s back in his own skin again. Relaxing into the fingers that scratch into his hair, the tongue that sweeps against his.

But it’s only a few moments before he remembers. Coming back to himself, as he fits his hand between your thighs.

Fingers dragging through his release, bringing his slick fingers to circle against your clit.

Because there’s no way you’re going back to sleep after this. Not if he knows you - which he’s now certain that he does.

"Thank you honey." He murmurs, with lips that press against your cheek.

The smallest smile after, as your own part with a moan - as he croons against your skin.

"Now let me take care of you."

thank you for reading! was excited to explore a little idea I had 💕

(tags: @celestianstars)

#gif credit to @loregifs - she is amazing!#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut

2K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

Winter's King 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: have a good weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stand, still uncertain. You look at the king as he tilts his face up to the moonlight. The silver sheen washes over him with an unearthly glow. He looks lupine, much like your dream.

“Your highness?” You echo again, hands curling around the sides of your skirt.

“Will you continue to disregard my order?” He challenges as his gold eyes meet yours. You wince at the way they shine.

“No, your highness, I am only...” you hush yourself and clamp your lips tight. You turn and search around, numbly walking along the curve of the pond.

He growls as you reach the line of hedges into the next walkway.

“You will want to go much faster than that,” he warns as you hear him stand. “I will allow you some advance...” He exhales as you glance back at him, “ten...” he stares at you, his figure shrouded in shadow from far away, “nine...”

You blanch and tumble backward through the gap. You spin and stagger on your soles, throwing your arms out as your heart pulses madly. Something about his timbre, about his words, has you alight. There is something amiss about him.

You push your legs against your skirts and hurry blindly into the nocturnal void. The moonlight seeps in around the silhouette of leaves as you keep your hands ahead of you to prevent a collision. You try to see through the dark, like silk across your eyes, making out little more than hazy orbs.

You crash into a thicket of thorns and pull away from the rosy bunch. Their scent clings onto you as you turn to the left and dive down the next path. You don’t know these gardens, not like Debray. For all you know, you’re going even deeper.

You hear a step behind you and swirl to face it. You squint, trying to see who is there. Is it the king? Do you want it to be? What does he mean to do when he catches you? What is the meaning of this game?

You plunge back into a sprint, puffing as you pump your arms. You whimper and whine as you slow, legs heavy and feet dull. Where are you going? You don’t like this. You remember a night like this before, how the cold dew of the forest crept up your legs, feet hitting the earth in quick succession, the holler of men and snort of horses behind you.

You stagger and spin back. No, you can’t run anymore. You don’t like this. You don’t like those thoughts. That last night before you were taken to Debray, before you dawned the cap of your bearing. That orphan girl running from servitude.

You walk forward, shaking as you peer back and forth. You wade through the thick grey air. You hear a twig snap and a bush rustle, each noise from a different direction. Perhaps it is a rabbit or a chipmunk. You sniffle and wring your hands.

You must find the king. You will surrender this game and ask that he takes you back to the castle. You trudge over the beaten path and hear the soft trickle ahead. It must be the pond. The silver light blooms brighter as you come upon a space in the hedges.

Suddenly, there is only air beneath your feet. You kick out as something rigid wraps around your waist and lifts you. You wriggle desperately and cry out, your eyes tinging but not overflowing. Your fear has you clawing at the hold around your middle.

“Please, please, don’t hurt me!” You plead as you flail, “please, sir, I’ll go back to the castle--” you choke as the grasp on you slackens but your feet still do not meet the ground. You quiet as you recall your present, that you are not in that forest, that you are far from Debray.

You are sat upon the bench, the silver moon gleaming down on you as it outlines the broad shadow before you. King Geralt faces you, kneeling as you tremble and hug yourself. You put your head down in shame.

“Apologies, your highness, I was lost,” you reach to rub your cheek, flicking back your tears with your lashes, “I got confused.”

“No, it is I who should apologise, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he takes your hand between his big ones, “I only meant to make some fun.” He brushes his touch up your arms and squeezes as you drop your hand to your lap, “little maid, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “I was only... delirious. It is too dark out here. I cannot see,” you bite down and look away, “apologies, I did act out.”

“Little maid,” he tickles along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, “I would not let you get lost or hurt.” He tilts his hand to cradle your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “what was it you were running from in your head? Who?”

“No one,” you lie. “Just a memory.”

“Memories are not just that,” he insists, “but I understand how they can hurt. Forgive me, treasure, I wasn’t--”

“Your highness,” the sullen voice has the king recoiling. He quickly plants his foot and stands. You rise as well, toying with that word he called you. Treasure. “The queen sends for you.”

Bryce steps out into the moonlight. You look at him then the ground. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?

“The queen,” King Geralt grumbles, “what is it she wants? It is late--”

“She would not say and I would not guess,” Bryce says, “but she screams for it. Like a yowling cat.”

The king sighs and lowers his head. He squares his shoulders and resets his posture. He steps away from you and gestures to his soldier. The king twists around and marches away. Bryce falls into pace with you as you follow. He is silent, you all are.

You approach the castle, guards lurking in the shadows, and are let past the front doors by a sombre pair. Inside, you follow the king through the great hall and up the stairs. You peek over at Bryce as you proceed down the corridor. He gently squeezes your wrist, just briefly, and carries on.

“Your highness,” Bryce speaks as you hear a racket ahead of you; screeching and crashing. “Should I escort the maid back to her chambers?”

“Cursed woman,” King Geralt mutters as he slows, Queen Jazlene’s door just ahead. He pauses and looks over his shoulder, “the cost of a kingdom...”

“Your highness?” Bryce prompts once again.

You echo him and step forward, “I could calm her. Bring some wine--”

“No, she will have no more of that,” the king declares sharply. “I wed her, I put my name next to hers, so it is I shall attend to her. Sir,” he looks at Bryce, “do as you suggest, put the maid in her chambers and I will put the queen in her place.”

“Aye, your highness,” Bryce bows his head and points you back, “come, maid, the night wears on.”

You glance up at the king. His golden eyes are wrought as his gaze holds yours for only an instant. You see the hesitation bob in his throat before he turns away. You mirror him and follow Bryce back along the corridor.

As you climb to the next floor and continue down another corridor, Bryce slows. He stops as he gets to the door and faces you. He takes a breath as he looks you up and down.

“It’s treacherous here in the summer kingdom,” he says, “but that will not change on the road. Mouse, you keep yourself well.”

“Thank you, sir, I am fine.”

“Aye, you do not take my meaning but you do not take the king’s either,” he puts his hand on his belt, “his favour might do you fine in this moment, but it is dangerous. Let not others notice so they may not envy it.”

You grimace and shake your head, “what do you mean?”

“Your little games do not need an audience. It is no tournament.”

Your chest sinks and your skin speckles. Is he accusing you of something?

“I... I haven’t done anything untoward. I would not, sir--”

“You may not,” he intones, “but we are all ruled by the will of the king.”

“Sir, the king is married to Lady Jazlene--”

“And we both see how they fare,” he states bluntly. “Carry my words with you, do with them as you may, but I could not leave them unsaid.”

Your eyes gloss and your nose tingles once more. He’s mad. Truly, he can’t think you and King Geralt. A maid and her master.

“I would not,” you repeat.

He huffs and nods curtly. He turns to the door and unlatches it, “go, rest your head while you can.”

“Sir Bryce--”

“I am bid protect you by the king,” he pushes the door inward and rests his hand on the frame, “not from him.” He looks past you, as if through, “little mouse, I do hope I am wrong as well but I know better than to depend on that.”

You shudder and tug at the end of your sleeve. You slump and drag your feet through the doorway. You stop, just inside, “good night, sir.”

He grunts and pulls the door shut. Your lip trembles as your heart races, just as it did in the garden. He is wrong. He must be. You saw yourself how the king is trying, he even said it was the queen he meant to game with earlier. It was only that she was too unwell. He said it!

And he goes to the queen’s chamber that night. He is not there. He has not been disloyal. The matter is not your concern. You serve wine, you lace gowns, you braid hair. You are only the maid.

⚔️

You return to the queen’s service the next morning. The world is a bit more familiar as you help her into her gown and twine her hair into an elaborate coif. Servants pass in and out of her chambers as they prepare for the royal party’s imminent departure.

“Why can we not keep this capital?” Queen Jazlene whines, “but my husband does insist on return to his frigid homelands.”

You say nothing as you sift through the old monarch’s jewelry chest. You present to her successor each gem, brooch, and chain. She has yet to turn any away though you wonder if there would be room in her already bustling luggage. Perhaps the cart will be a touch more crowded on your ride north.

“And yet my husband did come to me,” she boasts, “I think... hmm, well, perhaps this marriage won’t be so turbulent.”

You show her a cuff and she snatches it. She puts it on her wrist, turning her arm this way and that, as she oohs and aahs. She wiggles excitedly.

“I recall this piece. One year, when I came with father to court, the queen wore this cuff. You see the emeralds. I remember she was so proud of it even though all the court knew it was only gifted to her by her husband to distract from his mistress,” she trills, “oh, how foolish. But the old queen was so boring. It is a wonder the king didn’t dispose of her, who can blame him for taking an amour?”

She sighs and looks at the mirror, “and she wasn’t half so pretty as me.”

You remain silent, continuing to sort with her endless approval. You don’t think there is a single trinket she could ever turn away. You don’t see the need for so many of the same thing. Some stones are brighter than others but why not keep the brightest and do away with the rest.

“As I was saying,” she goes on, “last night when the king came to me, he was... almost meek. That man. Can you imagine? I admit I was distraught after the day I suffered but he listened and we spoke.” She strokes her fingers as she admires her oval nails. “There are some southern lords who will come north as well, some northern to stay behind. He says it will help us acquaint the two kingdoms into one.”

She drops her hands and pushes her shoulders straight, “he is wise. I suppose I should heed him if I am to be a good queen.”

You are want to agree but to do so aloud may be taken as insult. She might have done it sooner and saved herself some trouble. Yet it isn’t your place and you haven’t the wisdom of a queen. You’re merely a servant.

“Once I give him an heir, he will have to listen to me too. Yes, I will do what mother could never. Give my husband a son,” she drags her hand to her midsection, “I think last night...” she flutters her lashes dreamily. Her suggestion makes you squirm. Her and the king’s relations are hardly your concern. “It was better,” her voice is brittle, “even if...” she peers around and clamps her lips. She narrows her dark eyes, “close the door.”

You obey. You come back to her and return to your previous task. She reaches in to pluck out a string of pearls.

“He puts me on my stomach,” she whispers, almost as if she thinks you won’t hear, but she is speaking to you. There is no one else in the room. Perhaps she is only embarrassed that she has only to the courage to tell a maid. “And he behind me so I can’t see him and... he can’t see me but... but if he could...” she toys with the pearls, “if he’d just look at me, he might like it better.”

You lift a pair of medallions earrings and she ignores them. She tosses the pearls back in the chest and stands. You back away.

“He won’t let me touch him otherwise,” she mulls as she paces. “But he is warming. It is early, isn’t it? And compared to the first night... I don’t know. It will get better. It must.”

She quiets and stands by the window. Her anxiety is palpable. It’s uncharacteristic. You’ve never seen her uncertain of anything yet you can understand it. She is soon to set off to a new life and to brave a long road. When she reaches her destination, she will be a true queen. When you get there, you’ll still be a maid.

“I’ll go to him tonight,” she says and raises her head, “yes, yes, I will go to him and try again.” She spins and smirks at her grand idea, “maid, I must find something to wear for him. Well, nothing very much,” she remarks coyly, “but I will need a robe. Yes, I saw a satin one in the queen’s closet.” She swallows and stands as straight as she can, “my closet.”

You diligently cross the chamber and search the wardrobe. You find a white satin robe stitched with gold and silver. You turn to show the queen. She giggles and claps her hands.

“Wine,” she says, “I must find some courage too.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the witcher #series #au #medieval au #winter's king

314 notes · View notes

survivedthenight · 1 month ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

still chugging away at the canon-verse/canon divergence scenes of gale experiencing firsts that wasn't meant to be too long but is currently at 22k and nowhere near done! and is maybe not even vignettes anymore but simply a full fic with time skips

“Okay, now put her into third. No, that's first again, Buck, put her into third.” “I’ll put you into third,” Gale grunts, wrestling too roughly with the clunky gear stick. John throws his hands up next to him in the passenger seat. “Look, if you don’t want my help…” Gale sighs and slows the jeep to a stop. “I do, just quit ordering me around.” John’s laugh peels out of him, bright like the birdsong that’s been intermittently breaking the pre-dawn quiet. “Can’t handle me being in charge, Major?” Gale shifts in his seat. “That the real reason you got me demoted? So I couldn’t boss you around?” Gale rolls his eyes. “Got you demoted before your head got too big to fit in the cockpit.” John shoves him and Gale nearly topples out over the low door of the jeep. “It’s big enough as it is already.” They’ve been at this for going on half an hour now, and every time Gale thinks he’s getting the hang of it he messes something up again. Then, once he masters that, he forgets what he learned beforehand. It’s driving him mad. It doesn’t help that John is so damn big and distracting beside him. He takes up most of the front carriage of the jeep; arm thrown around the back of the seat behind Gale, legs splayed open because they’re too damn long to fit otherwise so his knee keeps knocking against Gale’s, barking laughter taking up the rest of the space every time he jokes about Gale’s mistakes. He can’t concentrate. “Okay, come on, try again,” John instructs. Gale sighs, plants his feet back on the pedals, and grabs the wheel. He eases off the clutch, gentle like John taught him, and gets the jeep moving again. He gets a few metres down the path, then reaches for the gearstick to shift her into second, then up to third. It’s smooth. He sneaks a glance to his right to gauge John’s reaction, tries to avert his eyes quickly when he finds John is already watching him. When he catches Gale’s look, John’s mouth bursts open into a grin. “Oh yeah, I saw that! You want some praise? A ‘good job, Buck?’” Gale’s stomach swoops and he blames it on the bump in the road they just went over. “Well aren’t you meant to be encouraging me or something?” he says, the early morning air cool against his teeth as he smiles around his toothpick. “You’re one lousy teacher, Bucky.” John plucks the stick out of his mouth. “Safety first. Don’t want this cutting up that pretty face of yours if we crash now do we?” Gale’s foot slips on the pedal and he stalls the engine. John, to his credit, tries to hold in his laughter this time. “My shoes are all wet,” Gale declares. “Mm-hmm.” “From the morning dew.” “Sure.”

#clegan #mota #my writing #gale learns how to drive and hates that he's not perfect at it #set during thorpe abbotts

55 notes · View notes

backtotheshitshow · 10 months ago

Text

Wood & Words

Woodworker! James Potter x Princess! Reader.

Summary: Y/n was looking for the castle woodworker to make her some new thing but she might have found something else instead.

Warnings: i don’t know fluff? James has trouble reading in this one….its for the plot I promise.

Part2

James was on his way back from gathering wood from a nearby grove, his horse carrying the necessary gear to pull the massive logs back to the castle grounds.

As they trotted down the path through the fields, he looked about, taking in the scenery.

The grass around him was still damp from the last rain, but the sun was starting to warm the air to be comfortable and he enjoyed the feeling of being out and working.

He dismounted his horse as he arrived back at his wood shed, beginning to unload the logs from the cart.

There’s a small knock on the door of the shed.

“Excuse me. Um Mr Potter is it?” James hears from near by, causing him to stop what he was doing .

To his own surprise he turns to see the princess.

He quickly hid his surprise and nodded to her. He couldn't help sneaking a glance at her.

Her beauty was stunning, and just seeing her made his heart beat faster, a wave of heat running through him.

He smiled at her, his hazel eyes twinkling. He found himself staring at her, captivated by her presence.

"Yes, I'm James... Potter, your majesty." He answered her trying to not look to nervous.

He was very used to being left alone so the sudden visit was setting off his nerves a bit.

“Um how can I help you?” He asked.

“Ah yes… I’ve come to inquire about something.” She said stepping further into the wood shed towards James.

“Of course how can I be of servous?” He said wipping his hands on his pants and taking a few steps forward.

As he got closer she mentally noted that he was a lot more handsome than she thought he might be, despite the dirt that speckled his face and clothes.

“I’m aware that you often make things for the castle. Chairs and things. I was wondering if you would be able to make a few things for me?” She asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“I’ve brought a um…a list.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her sleeves.

James looked down at the list that he was handed. As he looked at it, an awkward realization dawned on him.

The letters on the parchment swirled as they always did. As if his eyes refused to focus. An irritated look spread across his face.

“Is there something wrong Mr Potter?” She asked concerned.

He looked at her with a sheepish smile. “I’m not…I’m afraid I’m not very good with words your majesty.” He hands her back the list, avoiding her eye contact.

“Oh…” she seemed shocked by his response.

“I’m so very Mr Potter I…I did not mean to…” y/n cut herself off. “That’s alright. I was only hoping you could make me a new book stand, an easel and a stool, I doubt you need a list for that” She said a bit more confidently.

James smiled warmly as she apologised. Not being able to read wasn’t usually a problem. Most of his instructions came with pictures. And it’s not as if he couldn’t read at all, he knew basic words.

"Absolutely, Princess. I can make that for you. Do you have any specifications on what you want them to look like?”

“No. I’m sure whatever you make will suit perfectly fine.” She was quiet for a moment as she thought.

“Perhaps I can repay you for your service Mr Potter. You make the things I asked for and I can perhaps help you with your reading skills?”

James liked that she was being so kind, but the thought of anyone, let alone the princess helping him read made him feel less than adequate.

“There’s no need for that you majesty. This is my job after all, no need for repayment….” James says.

“Well I can still help either way. I’d love to get you some books perhaps.” Y/n offered with a smile.

James was getting irritated, he was trying to be nice but she kept pushing the subject. He didn’t wish to talk about his reading abilities anymore.

“Fogive me if I speak out of turn your majesty, but I don’t wish for you to teach like I am some small child. I have done perfectly fine in life so far with out it.” James says turns away putting some wood in a barrel.

Y/n felt saddened by his response. She hadn’t meant to upset him.

“I-I apologise Mr Potter I did not mean to offend you. I simply…..” she sighed, looking down.

“Very well thank you for taking on this task. I will return Friday next week. Will that be enough time?”

“Yes that should be more than enough time.” He said bluntly.

“Well thank you…um have a nice evening.” Y/n said leaving quietly.

James watched her leave. His heart was racing and his mind was racing even more, He was not sure, but he couldn't help feeling as though he’d disappointed her some how.

……

The following day y/n returned to the wood shed, knocking quietly as she had the day before.

“Mr Potter? Are you here?” She called.

James heard her voice as he was working on her book stand. He wasn't sure why she was here when they had agreed on next Friday, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see her and find out what she needed.

"Yes! I'm here! I'll be out in just a minute," he said, not wanting to keep her waiting much longer.

“No no take your time I’ve only come to drop off a small gift” y/n explained.

James walked towards her, face dirty and hair a mess, wipping his hands of sawdust with a rag.

James raised an eyebrow at the mention of a gift. He would not complain, but he could not understand why the Princess would want to give him anything, let alone a gift.

“A gift, your majesty?" he asked, still taking the time she offered him.

He was curious and, at the back of his mind, just a touch excited. It wasn't every day that a beautiful princess went out of her way to give him a gift.

“Ah yes….I know you said you didn’t want my help. I understand how you may have felt yesterday. I can see how it may be a bit of a sensitive topic for you. I found this at the markets today.” She placed a book entitled ‘Reading 101’ on his work bench.

“It’s not a childrens book. It’s more..mature then that I thought it might help.” She gave a quick smile.

James wasn’t sure what his reaction should be, he had said he didn’t want her help, but this gesture made it clear she wasn’t taking no for an answer and that oddly comforted him.

Y/n saw the unsure look on his face. “Please except it. I only wish to help.” She blurted out.

“Very well. Thank you.” James said. Moving back to his work.

“Oh…right yes. You’re welcome.” Y/n replied.

James took a glance over to her, he noticed a defeated look on her face. As she began exiting the wood shed he called out to her.

“Your majesty!”

Y/n turned around quickly.

“I mean it…thank you.” He said.

A beaming smile creeped its way onto her face. “Have a nice evening, James.” She said before disappearing.

—————

Hope you enjoy.

Feedback and suggestions are always helpful.💜

#james potter #james potter blurb #marauders #james potter imagine #James potter au #James potter x reader #James potter x y/n #marauders x y/n #marauders x reader

218 notes · View notes

voiceoftheskeptic · 5 months ago

Text

stp au idea im thinking about: save the sacrifice

on the path to new and unending dawn, TLQ makes the decision to slay TSM, but hero realises - since he's the one doing the narration, he has the power here. he can save her from TLQ. (especially since TLQ doesn't really want to slay her, and since they're in TSM's heart, her feelings of wanting TLQ to be happy help hero's influence.)

Hero slays TLQ, believing that the Princess will reset the construct. She does in her grief, essentially diverting them to the loop ending. Since there's no longer a Narrator, Hero has to take on his role instead, meaning he's the only one to remember. He guides LQ to try and save TSM from herself and him, while working within the confines of the construct. But there's still Echoes tucked away in there, and they still want her dead.

"Right now, you're in a cabin. There's a basement here, and a Princess has been held captive as a sacrifice here for a long time. Your job was originally to sacrifice her, hence why you've got a knife in hand, but... you have to save her. Earn her trust, and save her instead. Please."

Voice of the Executioner: No. She has to be sacrificed, that's why we're here. We aren't the judge or jury, her fate's been decided, we just have to get it done.

some of the voices might get new names too based around this idea with heros/executioners perception of them, these are all WIPs though!!

Skeptic: Voice of the Detective

Contrarian: Voice of the Thorough

Smitten: Voice of the Justice

Opportunist: Voice of the Juror/Balance

Hunted: Voice of the Skittish

Paranoid: Voice of the Apologetic

Broken: Voice of the Recompense

Cold: Voice of the Gallows

Stubborn: Voice of the Revolution

#Save The Sacrifice #slay the princess #i might actually do something with this because narry-hero swap i dont think has been done before #at least not this way that ive seen #the shifting mound #the long quiet #stp voices #voice of the hero

99 notes · View notes

hardly-an-escape · 9 months ago

Text

Fluffbruary Days 9, 10 & 11

gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.

Hob’s vigil is but halfway gone when he hears footsteps behind him.

The chapel is dark. The only light comes from the pair of candlesticks flanking his armor and sword where they are laid upon the altar. Hob is clad only in a thin cotton shift, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as the footsteps slowly make their way down the aisle to where he kneels on a thin cushion directly before the altar.

“Rise, sir knight,” says a deep and familiar voice.

“Not a knight yet,” Hob responds quietly. “Your Highness.”

“Do you doubt your ability to master this challenge?”

“No, my liege,” Hob says. He remains on his knees. “Lest you be a manifestation of temptation, sent to sway me from my path.”

“Not I.” Dream finally steps into his line of sight, and Hob’s breath catches in his throat. His prince is a vision, dressed in a diaphanous robe, long hair in a simple braid over his shoulder. “I merely wished to look upon the face of the man I love once more, ere it is wreathed in responsibilities.”

Hob flushes. He is not supposed to touch another soul between the ritual bath and when the priests come at dawn to fetch him for the ceremony, but he longs for Dream with every fiber of his being.

“I think you have come to tempt me, you sprite,” he accuses, and Dream smiles softly.

“Peace, my own,” he says. “Return to your prayers. Know that mine are with you also. I will see you in the morning.”

He glides from the chapel, but turns when Hob calls his name.

“Dream. My prince. I want you to know…” He has to pause and swallow hard against the lump in his throat. “When I swear my oath it will be to king and country, yes. But my first and best oath – the one I swear in my heart – will be to you. Always.”

He is shocked to see tears glinting in his lord’s crystal blue eyes. Dream nods, once, and slips out the side door.

In the morning, the priests come. Hob is clothed in a robe of pure white and thinks of Dream. He receives the sacrament, the first food to pass his lips in twenty four hours, and thinks of Dream.

The king presides over the ceremony. There is a pained look and a murmured apology from his advisor when he forgets Hob’s name.

Hob barely notices. He thinks of Dream.

Dream’s hands drape the red robe over his shoulders. Dream’s hands drop the embroidered black tabard over his head. Red, for his willingness to be wounded. Black, for his readiness to die for his lord.

The king rests his sword on the back of Hob’s neck, but it is Dream’s voice that rings out over the assembled crowd.

“Rise, Sir Gadling, knight of the realm.”

prompt list!

#okay the word count got away from me on this one #I think this is actually the first time I've written knight!Hob #which is kind of crazy #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2024 #kinda shoehorned some words in to stretch this out over three days' worth of prompts #meh

96 notes · View notes

my-castles-crumbling · 6 months ago

Text

Clandestine Part 2 Chapter 8! (Now Updating Weekly!)

Fic: Clandestine Pairing: Jegulus slowburn, background wolfstar, dorlene, and rosekiller Rating: M Tags: Trans!Regulus Length: 67k (WIP)

Chapter excerpt:

It took Regulus three days to get Dorcas alone. They were heading back from Quidditch Practice when he grabbed her arm and pulled her aside, leading her along a path down to the forest.

“I need to ask you something,” he murmured, trying not to feel ridiculous.

“What’s up?” Dorcas asked, sweat still dripping down her cheek from practice. She looked concerned. Regulus wished she wouldn’t be.

“You like girls, right?” He asked, trying desperately to find the words.

“Yes,” Dorcas laughed, nodding.

“Right,” Regulus nodded as well, more hesitantly. “But you’re a girl.”

Dorcas stared for a minute, understanding dawning on her features. “Yes. Just so you know…Whoever you like, Reg….it doesn’t make you any less of a boy,” Dorcas said softly, smiling to him.

57 notes · View notes

silvergarnet12 · 6 months ago

Text

Finally finished this, for anyone wondering about their splashtags, I'll copy the text I added on my wip about it under the cut.

Edit: forget to mention the bg is hastily edited concept art from the Tellius Recollection books. Spoilers for the Tellius games are in, just a warning.

For weapons, every weapon here has the Kraken Royale special in Splatoon 3, and someone agessss ago tagged my first inkling Kurthnaga suggesting he could turn inot the Kraken, and I thought that was fun.

Kurthnaga: He has a roller purely based on the fact my brain thinks he'd use one. Don't ask why it's just vibes I guess.

"Promising Ruler" is a reference to the end of Radiant Dawn, and the number 3108 is a reference to 31/08 or Halloween, because of his Heroes debut. He has the lvl 999 Tableturf badge because I think he'd enjoy playing it, the gold Kraken badge because weapon reasons, the bronze Grizzco badge because I imagine Almedha ropes him in to joining her on shifts sometimes.

Almedha: She has a splatling because I think it looks cool, and does a lot of damage from a far just like a certain dragon laser beam.

"Restless Sister" is because she left Goldoa before the Tellius games and inadvertently helped set events in motion. 2202 is 22/02/07 and is Radiant Dawn's Japanese Release date.

I also think she has some tendency towards violence since in canon she had a child with Ashnard of all people, and I doubt he was ever non violent. So she has Salmon Run badges, the flyfish is because I hate them and anyone with that badge is automatically cool to me.

Ena: She gets the Gal because usually it's pink and so is she, I also think she'd find tricky ways to use the Splash wall it comes with.

"Fortunate Tactician" in this au Rajaion doesn't die(if I make any tragedy it'll be reversible because this is funny squid game au and I like happy endings), and she's still good tactically. 2004 is 20/04/05 and is Path of Radiance's Japanese release date.

She has the Kraken badge like Kurth because of her weapon, X Rank badge because she takes battling as a tactical challenge, and the gold Tableturf badge because I think she'd also enjoy it, but play it less than Kurth.

Rajaion: He gets the charger because I was running out of weapons with the Kraken, so he gets an Elitre because I think they look cool, even if I hate fighting them. Also the spawn in pose is cool as hell.

"Revived King" He gets to live in this au, and not die. With Dheginsea being retired from whatever his role ends up as, Rajaion is technically in charge now. 1004 is 10/04/07 and is Radiant Dawn's Australian release date.

He also gets a matching bg style with Ena.

All his badges reference his luck in not being dead in this AU. The gachapon badge is basically gambling, so luck based, Cuttlefish got revived in Splatoon 3's story, and the wavebreaker is used as a revival device a lot in Salmon Run!

#tellius #splatoon #kurthnaga #ena #almedha #rajaion #goldoa #fe9 #fe10 #path of radiance #radiant dawn #fire emblem #my art #inkling #splatoon au

56 notes · View notes

lord-aldhelm · 1 month ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

I haven’t been tagged by anyone (yet) so I get to be the one to kick it off this week! lol

From Chapter 7 of my Aldflaed WIP “Darkest Before the Dawn”. I am feeling much better after my surgery and back in the mood to write!

A week later, Aethelflaed had regained her strength enough to leave the room. She was wandering the halls after visiting with her daughter in the nursery. Her stamina was still poor and she was pale and thin, but she beamed with contentment and pride. She had been slowly making her way to the great hall when Aldhelm crossed her path. She glanced up at him, and the light in her eyes faded slightly, turning into a glare. The dark circles under her eyes enhanced the effect, and her slightly sunken cheeks became even more pronounced when she clenched her jaw. The surprised look on his face must have been evident, and it seemed to set her off, putting her in a defensive mood. “Despite it all I lived,” she stated frankly, as if defending her very existence.

I have also started my paintings once again. Here is a very special portrait I am working on right now! This is the rough sketch for it; the final piece will be acrylic on canvas.

No pressure tags:

@gemini-mama @thelettersfromnoone @synintheraven @thenameswinter99 @garunsdottir

@bagheerita @solinarimoon @errruvande @paula-in-dreamland @freddie-foxs

@waterfallsilverberrywrites @holy3cake @hexenheim @whitedarkmoonflower @bilbotargaryen

@thedarknone @grinningkatz @ladyinred2248 @hikaruchen @st-eve-barnes

@king-alfred @alexagirlie @thedarknone @soulhollow

#wip wednesday #tag games #aldflaed #fanfic wip #sihtric art

27 notes · View notes

shadowgast-recs-weekly · 9 months ago

Text

Hidden Gems 6: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have the 6th hidden gems grab bag! Check out under the cut for 9 fics that have less than 150 kudos and cover a wide range of genres, and don't forget to kudos and comment if you like them!

Perfection by Defira (330, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Through the luxon, drow spend lifetimes reaching for perfection. Essek has already found it.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Burn to Gold and Crumble Away by The_Hybrid (1526, General) Reccer's Content Notes: Major Character Death

It's a funeral fic for the m9 set in the future.

Reccer says: It's sweet.

How to Rest by eeveev (14420, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

After Aeor, after making their feelings clear, Caleb is in Rexxentrum and Essek is on the run. Still, they find ways to be together. or Six months in the lives of wizards falling in love.

Reccer says: Cute!

Dawn by Allinna (2950, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

a really short and sweet dive into essek's canon story arc, themed around the sun

Reccer says: the sun is caleb!!! the darkness and light imagery!!

Love in Creation by LuckyOwlsFoot (1662, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek works on a project for Jester's wedding

Reccer says: A sweet and tender moment, some fun worldbuilding, and that feeling that if you start something even before there's any hint of a need of it, you might finish in time felt so real.

we'll be gone just like the gentle breeze of yesterday by quinn_of_aebradore (3351, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek Thelyss is many things: a master of dunamancy, a scholar of the arcane renowned across Exandria, and rather skilled when it comes to the theft of magical artifacts. The third, unfortunately, puts him in the path of Caleb Widogast, another talented thief. When social circumstance pushes them to complete their latest heist together, Essek finds his carefully maintained house of cards beginning to crumple and his orbit drawn ever closer to Caleb's.

Reccer says: It's a delicious crime/thief AU that hits all of the right notes - rivals, having to pretend closeness, secrets and mystery

Cascade Effect by firefright (6867, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Omegaverse

Essek follows the Nein into Aeor, where the already daunting task of saving the world is further complicated by yet another twist in his and Caleb's fractured relationship.

Reccer says: A wip continuation of an already wonderful a/b/o series

come back to me (i've been waiting patiently) by glossolali (1286, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: disassociation, ptsd

Memory overtakes Caleb, but Essek is at his side.

Reccer says: Soft and cozy and tender

Whiskey Waltz by echoplexx (1742, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

During an evening of merriment with the Mighty Nein, Caleb convinces Essek to dance. Post-main campaign, pre M9 reunited.

Reccer says: A sweet and lovely moment between the two of them

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with fake relationships!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #aeor is for lovers #critical role fan fiction #cr fics #cr fic #hidden gems

63 notes · View notes

seenoversundown · 1 year ago

Text

‧⁺˚･༓☼ Masterlist☽༓･˚⁺‧

Here's my collection of works! I'll have everything noted on whether it's a one shot or a WIP. I hope you enjoy!!

Key:

Fluff - ⁂

Smut - ☠

Trigger Warnings will be listed at the beginning of fics/chapters if applicable. (Please reach out if you feel anything was missed and I will make sure to add it in quickly!)

The Fine Print : *I do not own any of Greta Van Fleet's property. They are simply muses for my writing! Intended for fictional purposes only. Nothing is meant to be taken seriously and everything will be listed with TW's and summaries*

Redamancy ⁂ - Sam x Reader have been friends for so long but have never admitted their feelings towards one another. Lots of pining. (One Shot)

Playmaker ☠ - Sam x Reader (Hockey AU) After winning a playoff game, Sam decides to take you out for drinks and that leads to a fun night. (One Shot)

Succulent ☠️ - Sam x Willa (Fem OC) take a little trip to Vermont for Valentine’s Day where Sam cooks up a nice dinner with a great idea for dessert. (One Shot)

Sparrow Of The Dawn ⁂ ☠ - Sam x Willa (Fem OC) - Temporarily On Hiatus Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor. |Enemies to Lovers | Forced Proximity | Workplace Romance | Multi Chapter Series|

Cloak and Dagger ☠ - Josh x reader attend a halloween party but have to leave early because they can't wait any longer to devour each other. (One Shot)

Satiate ☠ - Josh x Quinn (Non Binary OC) - Quinn is sweet enough to make breakfast in bed, but also has a devious little plan for their favorite person. (One Shot)

Amongst The Stars ⁂ ☠ - Josh x Quinn (Non Binary OC) Josh has always loved love, and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. (Multi Chapter Series - WIP)

Your Bones ⁂ - Daniel x Reader spend a cozy rainy afternoon together. (One Shot)

Saccharine ⁂ ☠ - Daniel x Melody (Fem OC) spend a sweet Valentine's Day making cinnamon rolls together and then have a cozy evening away. (One Shot)

Slapshot ☠ - Jake x Reader (Hockey AU) After watching how well he played, you can't keep your hands to yourself on the way home. But he has just the way to help take care of that. (One Shot)

Oh Darling ☠ - Jake x Reader (Vampire AU) Jake has never been known for anything more than a one night stand but can you change his mind? (One Shot) Siren ⁂ ☠️ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) get stuck at the bar on Valentine’s Day, but Jake makes sure to make it up to her after the bar closes. (One Shot)

Allure : Part 1 ⁂ | Part 2 ☠️ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) Family Lake Day! Starts off with Charlotte longingly watching her sweet motherly boyfriend take care of everyone all day but ends with him making it up to her in the sweetest way.

For Death Or Glory ⁂ ☠️ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) The story of how they came to be | Jake has always been a hopeless romantic, heavy on the hopeless. He's gone out with plenty of girls, but they never last. Tired of being told he's "too sweet", he tapped out on dating once he bought the bar. Just waiting for the right one to walk into the bar and steal his heart | Workplace Romance | Friends With Benefits to Lovers | He Falls First (Multi Chapter Series - WIP)

A 4 Book interconnected series about the boys living in a small town in New England. Where they find love in the most unexpected ways. The bar was Jake’s dream, but somehow is helping everybody else’s dreams come true as well. Rom-Com • Enemies To Lovers • Love At First Sight • Rekindled High School Sweethearts • Workplace Romance • AU - Boys x OCs

Masterpost

Currently posting;

Sparrow of the Dawn - Temporary Hiatus

For Death or Glory - Thursdays!

(The Caravel Tavern Series AU)

Sam - Dueling Cameras ⁂ - Sam x Willa (Fem OC) decide to make getting pumpkins into a little competition (per usual) (One Shot)

Josh - Chiaroscuro ⁂ - Josh x Quinn (Enby OC) attend a local film festival where Josh gets to present a short film he's directed. (One Shot)

Danny - Spooks & Cider ⁂ - Daniel x Melody (Fem OC) Back in high school, go to a Fall Festival where Melody faces her fear of the Haunted House. (One Shot)

Jake - Affirmation ⁂ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) find themselves in an oddities shop where Charlotte has her tarot cards read, whether she believes in it or not. (One Shot)

(The Caravel Tavern Series AU)

Sam - Be Naughty, Save Santa The Trip ☠ - Sam x Willa (Fem OC) Sam runs late after a shoot and Willa leaves him a little surprise for when he gets back home to her. (One Shot)

Josh - Merry Everything & A Happy Always ⁂ - Josh x Quinn (Enby OC) have always had the tradition of baking cookies together, but Josh sets up a scavenger hunt for Quinn to bake some this time for a very special reason. (One Shot)

Danny - It's The Most Wonderful Time of Year ⁂ - Daniel x Melody (Fem OC) took on hosting Christmas dinner with everybody but unfortunately for Daniel, nothing is going smoothly. (One Shot)

Jake - White Christmas ☠ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) have a million and one things to do on Christmas Day and Charlotte is already stressed by 6 am. Thankfully, Jake knows exactly how to calm her down. (One Shot)

Want to join my taglist? Fill out THIS form and I'll add you to the list!

Wattpad | AO3

Fic Recs - updated 01/29/2024

81 notes · View notes

bougainvillea-and-saltwater · 2 months ago

Text

WIP definitely not Wednesday!

Hi, hi, hello, it's been a long time since I last did a WIP Whenever, but I wrote a lot today and I'm quite happy with myself! Things have been quite hectic currently, but words are finally word-ing so I'm grasping the chance to share a lil' something about ch22 of TPATD...👀

They lie there in silence, as still as a held breath, for what feels like forever. Miraak could stay beside her this way as long as she wanted him, till the rain ceased, till the sun came out again, or not at all. Or—or he could tell her stories from his childhood, those long nights in Atmora before the frost set in. He could tell her about roaming through Frostwood Forest, guided only by the moonlight that carved a ghostly path ahead of him; with shadows, both eerie and fantastic, lurking behind the dense cypresses and spruces that inspired him to spin epic sagas in his head and sing the fear away. He could recount how he found his shelter upon the snow, just as he does now with her, gazing up at the sky and counting the stars, always searching for the Lodestar that’d guide him home. He could describe how his own father sent him to hunt for the family in that unforgiving wilderness, ignoring—or perhaps choosing to ignore—that a boy greener than summer’s grass would likely fall prey to nature’s violence and never find his way back to Jylkurfyk. Tonight, he’d tell her anything. For her, he would at least try; no matter how it hurts—how it hurts to remember. But Jia rises to her feet, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. The rain and snow have soaked her through her garments, and wet strands of red hair cling to her forehead and cheeks like open wounds. After a little while, Miraak stands up with her. The relentless thunderstorm doesn’t spare him either, but it does little to physically affect him, as the First Dragonborn’s skin is more than resilient to it—it’s made by it. He’s unsure, when he unfastens his cloak and approaches her from behind until he stands tall above her shoulders, for the way she shrinks, jostling her head to the side to check the soft crunch of the sleet underfoot, is the blatant tell of her lingering turmoil. One small step more, and he freezes—her cold body trembles against his chest, yet she doesn’t otherwise pull away. Instead, she remains there, quietly seeking any warmth she can find and shivering helplessly. The little fool is too proud to ask for it aloud. As if a confirmation to his doubts, his arms instantly enfold around her, pulling her close as his cloak cascades over her, and he holds her there, his hands balled into fists upon her bosom. A shaky sigh escapes her when she senses his faint silvery stubble grazing her damp cheekbone, his voice murmuring in her ear—deep and rhythmic as always, like the chime of ancient church bells, so much so that when they sound, it feels like she converses with a God. “This... is no mere storm,” he tells her like he could divine the scrolls of the heavens right this very minute. “This is a growing rage that has been building up for a long, long time, and it had to be unleashed all within an hour. These clouds—racing wild across the sky and pouring out of their bellies all this rainstorm—are but rags torn by the hand of a wrathful god.” Her resolve begins to falter, the cracks in her armor showing. His gaze shifts to her, and he speaks in the language of their souls: “You have been brave tonight, soul of my soul. But you need to pretend no more... Not with me.”

Poor Jiraak... They truly live up to their "Soggy Kittens™" name with all this thunderstorm drenching them both... It's okay though, it's hot.

Okay, so, I'm tagging: @kiir-do-faal-rahhe, @thequeenofthewinter,

@miraakulous-cloud-district, @oblivions-dawn,

@blossom-adventures, @hircines-hunter and everyone who wishes to share something—don't forget to tag me back so I can see it! 💖 No pressure of course!

#jia is Not Well in this chapter. Not Well at all #blame a certain Scheming Wretched Man who has some very evil plans and then some more >:)#skyrim fanfiction #miraak x ldb #miraak #oc: jia #tesblr #the priest and the dragoness

18 notes · View notes