#there will be fic i just need to get a chance to write

[pomefioredove]

could you perchance do a part two to the yuu getting sold to the highest bidder? like how would that characters treat them if they actually get them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! but thank uu!! ^_^

more than happy to! <3 I'm writing this as a follow up/pt. 2 to this post but if you'd like something different don't be shy! I love getting requests

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms (for some). a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: trey, cater, leona, rook, idia, lilia, malleus additional info: yuu is gender neutral, rook is weird, both fem and masc french words are used during rook's part but reader is still gn, I need to replay book 2 to get leona's voice down, Idia being fun to write, maybe a little ooc

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

Trey and Cater's Ending

"Cater Diamond and Trey Clover!"

Everyone stops dead and turns to the back of the crowd. There's a certain sense of unity that, for a brief moment, everyone can feel in the form of a single thought: Them, of all people?

Cater, ever the people-person, can already tell what's on everyone's minds. "What can I say? I run a mean social media campaign. I had some sick infographics,"

Trey can only smile and shrug at the growing disdain coming from the other students, most of which from his own housewarden, who is s currently turning a lovely shade of crimson.

"...Right. Well, the prefect will be ready for you shortly," Crowley says, folding the envelope and setting it back in his pocket. "I trust your housewarden will help you sort out the details."

Riddle looks more like he's about to start throttling them.

"Nah, it's cool. We got this," Cater smiles, though he's only half paying attention as he posts an update to Magicam. "The prefect is in great hands. Right, guys?"

Ace and Deuce shrug. Not the best outcome, not the worst, and either way it's still their friend coming to stay with them. Riddle is gritting his teeth so hard you could practically hear them grinding from Ramshackle.

"Was anyone going to tell me you two had pitched in, as well? Or was it a surprise?"

Trey smiles, almost nervously. "Well-"

"We were only giving the dorm a better chance. It's basic statistics- more Heartslabyul names in the hat, more of a chance one of us will be drawn, y'know?" Cater beams. "No disrespect, of course."

"None whatsoever," Riddle hisses back.

---

"And you're sure he's not really mad?" you ask, trailing behind the two third years.

It had been almost an hour since you'd updated your Magicam feed and read the announcement firsthand, but the shock is still wearing off.

Cater scoffs. "Whaaaat? No, he's totally cool about it,"

"Well. Now he is, anyway," Trey murmurs back. "But he certainly won't kick you out. As long as you're in the dorm uniform, you're one of us. He's just upset we went behind his back."

"...Understandable,"

Cater holds the door open for you, letting you inside to see a precariously placed mannequin with a dorm uniform in your size already on it. You hate to admit it, but it's lovely.

"Riddle had one ready. You know, just in case," Trey says, gesturing you forward. "And don't worry, we'll all be taking it easy on you while you adjust."

You run your fingers down the durable fabric. "Hm. Thanks,"

"You should get changed, I need a post to commemorate the moment," Cater says, beaming. "And I kindaaaa want to rub it in for everyone else who lost out on the best giveaway ever."

Leona's Ending

"Leona Kingscholar! Please... be responsible. Ruggie, I hope you'll keep an eye out for the prefect,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. Leona, who had been absent-mindedly picking his teeth before the big announcement, flashes a big smirk to the audience while swaggering to the front of it.

"Well, well. Look who's come in first place, after all. What, didn't think I'd bother to try?"

Vil grimaces, crossing his arms. "Is there a point to this?"

"Obviously. I'm showing off," he rolls his eyes. "I guess I'll be seeing the rest of you lot around my territory a lot more, then?"

He snickers and then disappears back inside the building. Ruggie can only shrug at the disgruntled crowd before tailing after him.

---

"Well, that felt nice," Leona sighs, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs. "Pity that I couldn't see the lizard's reaction, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."

You're sitting at the table across from him, playing cards with a very invested Ruggie. You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Malleus," Ruggie mutters, shuffling his cards around in his hand.

"It's never a party without him, right? He was probably off cowering somewhere with his tail behind his legs," Leona chuckles, picking his teeth again. "But everyone else's faces just about made up for it."

"Whatever," Ruggie grumbles. "I'm all in."

Though you're not exactly invested in the game anymore. You set down your cards, much to Ruggie's dismay, and stand over Leona with your hands on your hips.

"I hope you know that I won't be one of your errand runners for you. I've done enough of that with Crowley,"

He pauses, sharp eyes scanning you over. "You certainly know how to rain on someone's parade,"

"This is not a parade. This is my sanity we're talking about,"

"Tch. And what're you gonna do? Run away?" Leona rolls his eyes. "Hide in the jungle? Maybe you can take Ruggie with you and make it a party!"

"Hey, leave me out of this," the aforementioned says, shuffling the deck.

You stand your ground, though you don't know what else to say. Eventually, Leona sighs.

"Fine. I won't make you do anything you don't want to if you're just going to whine about it,"

He pauses, and a small smirk crosses his face. "But you'll at least have to wear the uniform. I need the satisfaction of seeing the look on everyone else's faces."

You smile triumphantly, and sit back down across from Ruggie for another round while Leona watches on, pretending not to care about the game.

It could be better, but it could also be worse.

Plus, something about that smile of his let on more than just a little self-satisfaction.

This could definitely be interesting...

Rook's Ending

"...Ah. Rook Hunt!" Crowley says, folding the paper back in his pocket and leaning down to whisper to Azul in the front row. "Tell the prefect I said good luck."

At the heart of the crowd, Vil turns to Rook, hands on his hips. "Rook..."

"Ah, magnifique! How happy I am, my heart could weep for joy!" he says, completely ignoring whatever disappointed comment Vil was about to unleash. "I must run to my prize at once, there's not a moment to lose!"

Vil grimaces as Rook bounds off into the school, moving so swiftly that he cuts through the crowd of confused (and mildly concerned) students like an arrow.

As always, Rook is genuine with his words- he truly feels as if his own heart is about to leap out of his chest and race him towards Ramshackle.

What a chance, what an opportunity! Not only to be close to someone he has his own private fan club for, but to truly, finally possess beauty in physical form. He would display you on a shelf if it were feasible.

The idea so overwhelms him with joy that you barely had time to ask what was going on before you suddenly found yourself sitting beside him in the Pomefiore lounge as he smooths out the crinkles in your new uniform.

He murmurs under his breath, kneeling before you while inspecting the uniform. "Magnifique, joli, belle, quelle beauté, une rose parfaite..."

...Leaving you in a torn state of embarrassment and shyness. You look across the room to Vil for help, and he rolls his eyes.

"I coulda get used 'ta this!" Grim shouts, lounging on a nearby silk pillow with a mouthfull of pâté. Two freshman are tediously brushing his fur with the nicest set of combs you've ever seen.

"Comfortable?" You ask, only a little sarcastic.

"Uh-huh! Ya know, when I found out the winner was Rook, of all people, I was a little worried. But this is way nicer than collecting dust in Ramshackle!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

Rook smiles. "Tsk, tsk. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your precious head,"

The question is directed to Grim, but he looks straight at you when he says it. "Like a delicate porcelain doll, I will handle you with the utmost care,"

You're not exactly sure what you had been envisioning- maybe he'd release you on a remote island and hunt you for sport?- but this had far exceeded any of your expectations.

Though his gaze is as unsettling as ever, and any hopes of personal space are gone out the ornate glass windows, his usual guarded demeanor had softened just the tiniest bit.

It was unnerving. But nice, in a way.

"Mon trickster, this is just the beginning for us. We have many shining days ahead, and I plan on spending every beautiful breath of them with you. Do you hunt?"

"Oh, sevens," Vil murmurs.

Unfortunately for Vil, Rook's smile is contagious and you can't help encouraging him. Just this once. "Not usually, no,"

"A merveilleuse opportunity! I will teach you all I have learned, then. Ah, this reminds me of a poem I wrote for this exact occasion!"

He may or may not be watching you sleep tonight. Hopefully you're the kind of person who can live with that.

Idia's Ending

LOL. Normies.

Look at them, crowding around like a bunch of sheep. As if anyone has a real chance. SMH.

I knew it was pointless to begin with, but getting into Crowley's banking account and seeing the bids... now I feel lame for even trying at all.

That money could've gone to some new parts. I've been itching to build another PC...

The door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it so loudly that even if Idia wasn't completely absorbed in watching the announcement on his biggest monitor, he would've jumped anyway.

He whirls around in his chair, wide-eyed and shaking like a prey animal, expecting to see some high level boss or classic horror game antag waiting for him.

Instead, it's Ortho. "Idy! You'll never believe-"

"Geez, Ortho, you nearly killed me. And I don't have any extra lives this time," Idia says, spinning back around to face his screen. "Something wrong?"

"Actually, I have some really great news! Wanna guess what it is?"

Idia grumbles, powering off his computer. "Nah, not in the mood,"

Ortho's brow furrows as he catches a fleeting glimpse of the camera feed playing over his brother's screen before it flickers to black. "You've been watching the announcement on the courtyard cam footage?"

"No! I mean- well, I was just curious," Idia says. "I watched for like two minutes. Who even cares about this thing, anyway?"

"Well-"

"I mean, it was a game over from the start. Taking on the highest level bosses at our school with my measly stats? Forget it,"

"But Idia-"

"Who even cares where the prefect ends up, anyway? I doubt they'd wanna be trapped in a basement like this for all eternity,"

"Idia!" Ortho shouts, loud enough to shake his brother from his ensuing pity party. Idia can only stare as he moves to the side, revealing a rather surprised looking you, dressed in the dorm uniform, behind him.

"Idia, you won!"

And then he dies.

That's what he thinks, anyway. Really, Idia goes into a state of complete shock and blacks out so hard that, for a moment, the blinding light shining through his eyelids feels like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Is he okay?" you ask, tentatively watching as Ortho clicks off the small light he'd been shining in his brother's eyes.

"He's displaying symptoms of a panic attack. Don't worry, he gets them quite frequently,"

A distant groaning pulls the both of you back into the present moment and you watch Idia slowly rise.

"His heart rate has steadied to 70 BPM," Ortho says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's normal. Idia, can you hear us?"

He takes a long moment to respond.

"This isn't real. I'm sleep-deprived from my last speed run and now I'm hallucinating. There's no way,"

You look between the two brothers. This hasn't exactly gotten off to a stellar start.

"Your vitals are normal, although you're lacking Vitamin C. Might I suggest having a fruit cup while we talk?" Ortho asks. Idia shakes his head. "Yuu? Snack?"

"I could go for something,"

Ortho hovers out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You're too nervous (or is he too nervous?) to ask to sit, so you stand over him while he practically rocks back and forth. His face is so red and hot with embarrassment you could cook an egg on it.

"Um..."

He mumbles back. "Just pretend I'm not here. IK you probably wanted one of those epic SSR students to pull you, I don't blame you for being disappointed,"

He talks so fast and quiet it's hard to make out what he's saying... but you get the gist of it.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. This is a hell of a lot better than it could have been,"

He seems to genuinely consider your words for a moment before you're interrupted by Ortho coming back with snacks.

Idia is back on high alert the second he's returned. "This doesn't make sense. I got into Crowley's online bank info and saw all the bids, I wasn't even close to the top five. How?"

"Oh, easy!" Ortho chirps. "I simply rewired funds from Crowley's bank account to up your offer!"

"You... took money out of his account and sent it back to him?"

"Clever," you murmur.

Idia grumbles. "I guess that's not technically stealing... fine. But why? I thought I told you not to bother!"

"My user intel indicates that the prefect is very popular amongst the student body. Their top three descriptors are helpful, kind, and friendly! I thought you two might be able to practice your social skills together... Perhaps you could show them around the dorm as a starting point?"

You turn around to look at Idia, who's sheet-white. Nonetheless... he sighs and stands, muttering a quick "Let's get this over with,"

You watch, as still as stone, as he stops in the doorway and turns to look at you from over his shoulder, his face and hair a pleasant shade of pink.

"Well? Are you coming?"

Lilia's Ending

"And our winner... is... hm. I don't even remember seeing this one in the pile," Crowley grumbles, scratching his head under his hat. "Um, Lilia Vanrouge!"

Silver is the first to look at him. "Fa-Lilia, I thought we talked about this,"

Lilia, currently hovering in the shade of one of the courtyard's signature apple trees, simply shrugs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh, we did. I really thought about what you said, about the prefect's freedom, and I decided that you're right! But how could I guarantee their safety from everyone else?"

Silver groans (which turns into a yawn) and Lilia puts on his best cute look as everyone else in the audience turns to him.

Crowley clears his throat. "The prefect will be ready for your-"

"Oh, no need! Thank you, though," he says, and then disappears into the building.

---

You've been distracting yourself by counting cobwebs for far too long, as evident by your headache and the taste of dust on your tongue.

You turn to look at Grim. "Should be over by now. I'm surprised I haven't heard anything yet,"

"Surprised, you say?"

No matter how many times he does that, you're never quite prepared.

You jump, nearly hitting your head against the table you'd been taking refuge under. Grim yowls, clawing into your sleeve (and just barely missing the tender flesh on your arm, thank goodness), and you both stare at the fae ahead of you.

Lilia is sitting on the table, hanging his head upside down and staring right at you. Grim mumbles.

"Don't even tell me. I'm out!"

Lilia waves him goodbye as he makes a swift exit, and then turns back to you.

"I have a secret. Wanna guess?"

You're a little curious (aren't you always when it comes to him?) but that isn't enough to overpower your rising dread.

"No,"

"Aw. Really? I'm sure you'll like it,"

"Definitely not, then,"

He slinks off the table and lies on the floor, cupping his face in his palms and kicking his legs back and forth.

It would be amusing if you weren't so sure of what he's about to say.

"Well, despite your best efforts, I'm not surprised at all. But Malleus couldn't even come here to get me himself?" you sigh.

Lilia tilts his head to the side. "Now, why would he do that?"

There's something written within the margins of his tone that makes your eyes lower at him. Something he's keeping from you.

"...Well... he did win, didn't he?"

"Oh, my. You were hoping for Malleus to win? Now I'm sure we both feel silly,"

You raise an eyebrow. "Hoping is... a strong word. But I was expecting it, yes. So he didn't win?"

"No, dear, Malleus is not the winner,"

"Then... who is?"

Lilia gives you a sweet, self-satisfied grin, his fangs glinting. "You're looking at him,"

Ah.

If there's one thing Lilia Vanrouge is good at, it's surprising you. No matter how stoic you act, no matter how clever you are, he always manages to catch you off guard.

This might take the cake, though.

"I didn't even know-"

"No. Initially, I wasn't going to. But Silver and I... we had a long talk about valuing your freedom and independence, and thus I so valiantly threw myself into the flames to save you from becoming someone's slave," he pauses to smile. "Chivalrous, yes?"

"...Charming," you mutter. "But what was that thing about-"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry, you'll be treated as any other student at Diasomnia. In fact, I'm sure we already have some uniforms in your size!"

"This is... quite the turn of events,"

"Ah, isn't it? I haven't felt this elated in... well... a long time," he grins. "Come along, now. I plan on treating you to a hearty welcome dinner!"

You can only grimace at that.

Malleus' Ending

During all of the confusion, the fighting, the rumors that shook the school, no one, again, had remembered to invite Malleus Draconia to the announcement.

Not that it mattered. Not this time.

One knock at Ramshackle's creaky door and you were suddenly in the depths of the forest around the school, admiring a crumbled stone structure.

"What was it?" you ask, turning to your walking companion.

Malleus smiles slightly. "I believe it was a wall. Fascinating, no? Since you have inhabited Ramshackle, I come here when I want to be alone,"

Ah, right. You'd almost forgotten that you'd made a home out of his ruins of preference.

Ramshackle was in a much better state than this, though. At least you had four walls and a roof over your head.

"Are you alone a lot these days?" you ask, rather absent-mindedly for such a heavy topic.

You're well aware of the answer already. No, of course not. Malleus is constantly surrounded, whether that be his friends, personal guard, mentors...

"Yes,"

Oh.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," it's all you can think to say.

Fae don't seem to know the conventions of human small talk. Or maybe that's just him. Not that you mind. "What about Silver, and Sebek, and Lilia...?"

"Fine companions," he crosses his arms. "I owe them a debt of gratitude. But being physically surrounded does not amount to closeness."

Oddly profound.

You can't help but relate, thinking back to everyone you know. Even with good intentions, they're still out there, bartering over your life.

"I'm glad you came and got me," you say, breaking the tense silence. "I was afraid you'd gone to that... announcement thing."

He raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

"...Never mind. I guess my point was that I've been feeling a little lonely lately, myself,"

Malleus is quiet for a moment, staring directly ahead at the mess of stones and moss that once made up a sturdy wall. Now crumbled, scattered across the ground.

And the, he smiles.

"Well, there is a solution to this trouble of ours. But I'd need your consent,"

What exactly is he getting at? You raise an eyebrow. "Go on,"

"I've been so preoccupied with the formalities that I haven't had the chance to ask you properly, yet. Lilia suggested I might have more success this way,"

He pauses, and then smiles. "I would like us to marry. Does this agree with you?"

You thought you might be stunned. Speechless, even. But the answer comes so naturally.

"Yes, it does,"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus enjoyers this goes out to you. and rook being weird enjoyers (me) #cater diamond x reader #trey clover x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #the varying lengths of these... RIP. sorry everyone

[mightiestofmumblers]

Simon Riley, who's been surrounded by death for longer than he can remember. It's become harder and harder to remember the years without it. Whether the ones who fall are the soldiers beside him or enemies at his own hands no longer matters to him, not really, not like it should.

Ghost, who becomes used to watching that final spark leave a set of eyes before they become glossy and empty. It takes him years to notice that final little thing. Nothing more than a reflection, but She's there.

Ghost, who questions Price and Soap, quietly and reluctantly, but they don't understand. They don't get it like he does. And it doesn't make sense, he knows it doesn't. Soldiers are known to go insane after too long in the field, perhaps that's what's happening to him.

It's after not sleeping for 60 hours that he sees Her after all, sweeping or floating through the battlefield, draped in every colour on the spectrum and not a single one of them. Ghost has never seen a face like it, and he knows he never will. All of Her reeks of paradoxical features and curves that swirl and change whenever he thinks he's finally grasped some aspect of Her. She bends down, soft and caring, as the final light slips from his teammate's eyes, and She carries him with her while his body remains.

The second he tries to stop Her, reach out and touch her, his hands slip through her. For one moment lasting years and less than a second, She glances at him. He doesn't blink, but She disappears anyway.

Years pass. Ghost recognises her. Always. In time, she watches him through reflections. She follows him wherever he goes. But there's nothing cruel about it. It's impossible with the sad smile shining from Her. It's not something she does but rather something that she is.

Ghost, who no longer has any true fears on the battlefield. It's simply another work day. But it changes when he sees Her. How She looks at him. He isn't afraid of Death but he manages to stagger back. Running is futile, he's seen others feverishly try to crawl from Her, fingers scraping at the ground until the skin wears away, a bloody trail following the leg no longer there and all of it with no use. Fighting is quite the same: as impossible as this entire thing is improbable.

"Shhh." Something beyond a voice, coming from his own head, he's sure, coos. "So close to me. You rarely ever are. How long has it been? No... you're alright, my love."

Ghost stops. She's infinitely tall yet he looks down at Her. Her smile isn't sad as She stretches a hand towards him, lifting the bottom of his mask, and that's when an inkling of fear finds him. For years, She's been his sole comfort on the battlefield. A single neverending entity he could always trust to be with him no matter how many years were to pass, but after wishing for so long to see Her, have Her closer, he wants nothing more than hundreds of miles to separate them.

"Is it time?"

"Afraid not, love." She smiles with a thousand pleasant summer days and cosy winter nights. "I have a job to do, but you've been close to me for so long. I want to see your face before I go."

Death lifts the skull, removes every layer until his scarred skin is visible to Her.

"How can I see you?"

"What a wicked thing it is." A sigh falls from wonderful lips as She caresses his cheek with a cool touch. "I'm sorry, Simon."

"Simon..." He repeats, tasting the foreign word.

She's fading.

"Wait! How can I-"

"Don't worry, love. No matter what, you'll see me again at the end."

Ghost becomes worse, more than he's ever been. With enough blood on his hands and enough souls at his feet, he can see Her again. He haunts the battlefields like never before, staring into the eyes of his victims for the mere chance of catching a glimpse. However long, no matter how many bodies it takes, he will see Her again.

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I've had this in my ideas doc for, like, years, and I just needed to get it out lmao. I'd love to write a full fic but unless I'll get 30 hours in a day, I don't have that kinda time lmao.

#cod #call of duty #ghost #drabble #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #141 #task force 141 #fan #fan fiction #wri #writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

[storiesofsvu]

It's Bingo Time!!

I usually do some kind of bingo for my birthday/spring and I figured it'd be fun to do one again this year. Though the timeline may be different, we'll see lol.

Prompts are all spring/summer themed or smut. Any and all of them can be made as suggestive as you’d like, you don’t need to keep the smut fics to the smut prompts!

Submissions can be anything! A mood board, headcanons, drabbles, gif sets, a one shot, a mini series/collection including all the prompts, social media au’s, whatever you want!!

The rest of the rules are under the cut!

Prompts can be made into any genre, make it super spicy, super fluffy, or heartbreaking. Just make sure to include any and all appropriate warning at the top and in the tags!!

Fics can be a ship, reader insert, an OC, whatever you want! This is for you to have some fun and get creative!

Accepted Fandoms:

-Anything and Everything!! Yes!! I am always wide open to every fandom out there! It does not need to be something I write for, regularly read or even know what it is! It’s your choice!

Some examples:

Law and Order (svu, oc, og, ci),Criminal Minds, 911, MCU, One Chicago, NCIS, Grey’s Anatomy, OUAT, CAOS, Private Practice, Abbott Elementary and everything and anything in between!

Rules!

You must tag me @storiesofsvu and use the hastag #kbdaybingo2024 on each creation. There’s a chance I will put together a masterlist (and if I do I likely won’t until it’s all over)

Bingo begins May 1st and runs all the way to June 27th

Only post ONE creation PER DAY, and only one square per creation

No under age oc’s/yn’s

Tag all and every warning appropriately at the top of the fic

Anything over 1000 words MUST be under a readmore

Please appropriately tag your characters! I don’t want to see a list of side characters who have one line or are only mentioned when it’s a specific character x reader fic!

For each fic you write, you’ll earn a ballot and at the end I’ll do a draw and there will be a winner!! (don’t ask me what the prize is yet lol)

Everyone is welcome to participate! (anyone submitting or reading smut must be over 18!!)

If you have any questions feel free to message me!!

___________

tagging some people I think might be interested!

@whiteberryx @rustyzebra @iamnotoriginalphil @happenstnces @bullet-prooflove @hotchfiles @prentiss-theorem @scorpsik @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @polkadotpenguin16 @escapingrealtiylovinginsanity @waitingfortheendtocome @five-bi-five-mind @demonicbaby666 @baubeautyandthegeek @safficranger @valentinesfrog @milfandh0ney @asolitaryrose3 @alexblakegf @hotchs-big-hands @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @mxmmyprentiss @alexblakeisgay @jordanstark007 @chestnutninny @maximoffcarter @lizdonnelly @v3nusxsky

#writing #writing bingo #criminal minds #law and order svu #law and order #grey's anatomy #ncis #abbott elementary #chicago pd #chicago med #mayans mc #marvel mcu

[sideprince]

I've seen the same post a hundred times now. Sometimes it's a few days old, sometimes it's from years ago, but it's always the same. Some anti posts about how they don't understand how anyone can like Snape because he was so awful, and then there's a long reply that goes something like, "imagine this happens to you, and then this, and then this" to describe Snape's experience. Sometimes there's some James Potter hate thrown in.

Look. You can go through describing a character's entire experience but you don't really need to. Here's the thing that antis don't understand:

For all her faults (and they're big, bigoted ones) Rowling understood a really integral part of the human experience and conveyed it through Snape. Everyone needs love and to feel accepted. It's that simple. Snape became a Death Eater to seek acceptance (Rowling has confirmed this, though I can't remember the source - whoever wants to add it please do), because it was the only way he could find any.

Snape's understanding of morality, like everyone's, is subjective. Some readers understand this and some don't. When faced against a morality that says there is good and bad in the world, everyone makes choices based on their personal experience. Context is everything. Someone who experiences pain and suffering will not see the person inflicting it on them as moral. That's it. 'How can this person be good when they caused me so much suffering?' = human psychology. Most of the people who think 'I'm a bad person and deserve this' have been gaslit and abused into thinking so, because it's not a natural reaction - it's one that has to often be socialized into someone at a young age, exactly because it's not natural. Everyone is the hero of their own story; no one sees themselves as a villain, because they see the valid aspects of their own perspective.

You can write essays on how vulnerable people needing acceptance is what cults and fascists exploit to recruit vulnerable people, or on how the standard anti's un-nuanced reading of Snape both ignores canon and displays a disturbing lack of empathy or compassion, but at its core it just boils down to context. From Snape's perspective he experienced cruelty, therefore the people inflicting it must be cruel. Again, it's that simple. He was a person, like any other, except he was fictional so he wasn't even real. On the flip side is James Potter, who, for all his faults, didn't get to live long enough to get a chance to change and grow unlike Snape, and I think the Snapedom also needs to acknowledge that.

They're fictional characters representing things an author wants to say, not sports teams, not martyrs, and not all good or all bad emblems that define your identity depending on how you feel about them. It's depressing how much time is wasted arguing with bullies and trolls whether from the Marauders fandom or just random antis. I literally can't find more than three blogs to follow without this argument coming across my feed daily. I know the Snapedom is Not OK™ and that's kind why we're all here, and I know that my take is super unpopular but like Snape, I don't care what others think: this fandom has been having the exact same argument for years and nothing has changed. There's fanart and meta and fic and so much content out there appreciating this character, you're not going to change an anti's mind who's deliberately trolling in the tags, so why are you trying? What are you getting out of it? What does it give you? It's exhausting just scrolling past it.

#The thing about morality is that it's subjective #the religious leader who's a beacon of moral purity to their congregation #is a source of selfishness and pain to someone they abuse in secret #is that abuse victim immoral for rejecting the values the religious leader represents? #the congregation might think so because their definition of morality relies on the religious leader being a moral guide #the victim might not think so though because how can something be righteous if it causes suffering #look this is just an example of how perspectives can vary and I know there are more possible takes on that example #my point is that the idea that there's no clear 'good' and 'evil' there's only power/what you do with it is actually how psychology works #'good' to one person can be pain to another #'scourgify' is an innocuous household spell that cleans stains until it's used to waterboard someone #context matters more than labels like 'light' and 'dark' magic

[zzoguri]

[TEASER] finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

inspired by ➵ "seasons" by wave to earth, the last five years

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, the last five years story-telling method aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward (i hope that makes sense), missed chances, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, hurt/comfort, jealousy remains but love triumphs, tiger parents, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ est. 10-15k

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by renee rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ shhhhhhh.... i know that i'm still writing this but a lil motivation and accountability goes a long way SOOO !!! this is just a lil teaser for the upcoming jichang fic for the deoboyznet event <33 thank you again to my lovely @hcuyk for beta reading !!! (i've only written 1/4 please understand.) but i'm dedicating this to my lovely @sungbeam whose love for changmin is one i'll forever feel even to my ribs and @wavesmp3 who forever remains an inspiration in the way i write </3 plus, i've posted these snippets anyway so :P if ure interested in this fic, feel free to ask to be part of the taglist for this! and dont forget to always leave feedback <3

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlists

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was home cooked, something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stocking up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob quickly runs away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek, and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

taglist ➵@winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

#the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin angst #ji changmin fluff #the boyz imagines #ji changmin imagines #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin scenarios

[demigods-posts]

canonically, percy isn't aware of the crushes people have on him until it's too obvious to deny — like when annabeth kissed him, or when nico straight up told him. and since percy isn't aware of rachel's crush on him until the beginning of tlo, that means there was a point in time when rachel was actively trying to get with him and he had no idea. and it's not even his fault lol. he just only saw her as his good friend and just thought her advances were her being friendly. i just have to see this in action.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo text post #pjo headcanon #percy jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #just imagine rachel taking percy to an expensive event and holding his hand #and percy's all: #'oh my friend is probably anxious of big crowds. let me hold her hand because friends help each other in their time of need🥰' #or rachel taking any chance she gets to grab his bicep or touch his shoulder #and he's all: #'rachel is a very affectionate person. it's cool tho. so am i when i'm around people i care about. rachel is such a cool friend🥰' #i desperately need someone to write a fic or sum lol

[merakiui]

as much as i love the loser virgin trio, nothing can compare to ✨ him ✨

#meraki mumbles #my favorite loser virgin of all time <3 #i will be his emotional therapy hole orz please rollo just one chance #stuck in a wall trope with him!!!!!! #or the trope of getting locked in the room and can only escape by having sex #or even the trope of being trapped so closely in a tight space like a locker or a box……. #rollo is at the top of my hierarchy of needs OTL i love him too much #i need to write that messed up rollo fic uuuwwaaaawaa >_<

[navigatorsghost]

Writing hack: if you're getting stuck trying to do background worldbuilding, like you're filling in backstory for a character or designing a location or attempting to flesh out a culture or something in your setting, write it up as a fake Wikipedia page. That way, the bits you're fully stuck on can just be headings with a note saying "needs expansion" for now, the bits where you can't decide whether to make x or y be the truth can be written up both ways under a "Controversy" heading, the bits you do have plenty to say about can be splurged down without needing to reference the bits you're still stuck on.

For bonus points, have fun inventing imaginary sources, because once you've done that, you've got fictional books and learned authorities to throw into your actual story later if you need some random titles to stick on a bookshelf (or a place to hide a terrible pun like you're aspiring to be Sir Terry Pratchett, of course).

For even more bonus points, get carried away and start adding links to other pages and then write those too.

#Rath thoughts #writing cheatsheet #writing advice #not me doing this to try and finally get a coherent handle on my Jashinism headcanons ahem #I just can't keep writing Hidan without ever giving him chance to infodump about his faith <3 #but if he's going to do that in fic *I* need to know wtf he's going to say first.

[becca-alexa]

Baby, It's Cold

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re snowed in with no heat, so you suggest sharing body heat to keep from freezing - but how far will things go between you and Steve?

Word Count: 6.3K

Content Warnings: p in v sex, general smut, cursing, consensual touching

Author’s Note: feedback appreciated!! i don't have much experience writing stuff like this, and i figured practice makes perfect 💗

    It was a miracle Robin had managed to snag the cabin - who in their right mind would ever rent out an entire villa in the woods to a bunch of twenty-somethings? It was unheard of, or so she claimed, because none of them could get her to shut up about how well she'd haggled for the place, how she'd bartered with the owner over coffee and used her mile-a-minute voice to confuse them into signing off on them staying the weekend.

    The place was far, far outside of Hawkins, an urgently-welcome retreat for all of you after what had proved to be the most difficult year of your lives. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, you and Steve - you'd all made plans to meet up and drive over together; Eddie had given his van a well-needed tune up specifically for this trip, so that it could handle everyone and everything in one go. But, as was quickly - annoyingly - becoming the norm with your group, your plans fell through… sort of.

    "What do you mean, you're stuck in Indy?" Steve tried to keep his voice down as he balanced the payphone receiver against his ear, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket as he braced himself against the cold. "Robbie, we've been planning this trip for weeks-"

    "I know, I know!" Robin hurriedly replied; you tried not to giggle too loudly as Steve rolled his eyes. "But Nancy had this thing she needed to pick up, and Eddie had offered to drive us, then Jonathan and Argyle wanted to tag along-"

    "What, so you didn't think to tell me about your little day trip?" Steve dragged a hand through his styled hair, shifted from one leg to the other, slapping a hand against his thigh in exasperation. Can you believe her?, he mouthed to you, biting back a grin when you shook your head.

    "Just go with [Y/N]!" Robin insisted - and in retrospect, you'd realize she'd insisted a bit too intently, but you weren't thinking of that now.

    What you were thinking of was how in Heaven's name were going to survive the entire three-hour drive up to the cabin, alone with Steve Harrington.

    Your best friend, your bat-wielding protector, the sole object of your desires - Hell, he was the only crush you'd ever had, and even after so many years, your affections for the man still ran as deep as ever.

    "Robin says they'll meet us at the cabin tomorrow." Steve asked, holding the phone away from his face as he turned toward you, head falling to the side, hair bouncing over his face. "That okay with you?"

    "T-That's fine." You reply with a nod, staring at the lock that had fallen over his forehead, and you prayed he hadn't picked up on how your voice had cracked.

    "You owe us, Robbie." Steve replied gruffly, but you knew there was no bite to his words. "Seriously this time."

    "Sure, sure! Whatever!" Robin hurriedly replied; from where you were standing, you could barely make out what sounded like Argyle… shouting at someone? "Drive safe!"

    "Rob-" The line went dead, loudly buzzing in his ear; Steve groaned as he all but slammed the receiver against the payphone, his brows furrowing as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. You took a step toward him, bridging the gap that'd been left between you; your fingers were soft as they brushed over his skin, trailing over the soft hair covering his forearm, pulling him out of his own head.

    "Steve, it'll be fine." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped it'd calm him down - the last thing you needed was Steve driving up a rugged, unfamiliar mountain upset. "We'll try calling again when we get there, okay?"

    He nodded, blinking at the warm smile you gave him - your smiles were always warm, always gentle, but every time he'd be graced with it, he'd remind himself not to get too excited.

    You smiled at everyone like that, he'd convinced himself, desperate to believe it were true, that the look of pure sunshine on your face wasn't just for him - because how could it be?

    It was, but that's another story.

    You walked to his car, your pace picking up to a jog as the bitter cold sunk through your clothes. Steve beat you to it, holding the door open for you.

    "Ever the gentleman, huh?" You teased, climbing into the seat and pulling the heavy thing shut behind you.

    Had you hesitated just for a moment longer, you'd have caught how Steve burned at your words, how he'd licked his dry lips nervously as his mind froze up, hands trembling as they fisted at his sides.

    You weren't the only one with a lingering crush.

    Taking a steeling breath, he walked over to the driver's side, hands cupped over his mouth as he shut the door, working desperately to stave off the chill biting at his fingertips.

    "Ready?" The car roared to life beneath his hands, the sound a welcome comfort ahead of your long journey; you cranked the heating up to the highest setting. Again, you smiled at him, fuzzy and soft; he smiled in return, and he pulled the car out of the gas station parking lot and onto the main road.

    You'd been driving for hours.

    "You find it yet?" asked Steve, glancing at you for what felt like the millionth time as you scanned the map creased and wrinkled atop your lap, your brows furrowed in concentration as you traced your finger over one of many wiggling lines.

    "There should be a road up ahead on the left…" You mumbled in reply, flipping the map upside down, this way and that. Should you have brought a compass? "Maybe the right…? No, wait, definitely the left."

    "You sure?" Steve asked hesitantly - he'd driven through more open country roads and empty spatterings of woods than he could remember; in the dark, he couldn't even tell he was driving uphill.

    "You don't trust my cartography skills, Harrington?" Your lifted your brow, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your pressed lips. "Take the next left, then it should be at the end of the road."

    "I trust you, but this baby's only got so much gas." You laughed at him, clear and pleasant, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Here?"

    "Yeah, turn here."

    The car jumped as it crossed off the main road and onto the dirt, leading up the side of whatever mountain you were on; Steve's hand flew out to hold you down before he could think to stop himself, and you clung to him as the jolting continued on, both of you only relaxing when the cabin finally came into view.

    And, boy, was it a view.

    "Robin got us this?" You exclaimed, gaping at the expansive cabin before you, eyes sparkling as Steve turned the interior light on. "This is amazing!"

    "It's a cabin." Steve shrugged, and your head snapped to look at him - he sounded… unimpressed? "What? I think it's nice." You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of the car; he followed closely behind, insisting he carry your bag, ignoring your protests against it altogether.

    As though the outside of the cabin wasn't impressive enough, the inside was lavish enough that even Steve was taken by surprise. Two floors, six bedrooms, wall-to-wall log paneling, a massive fireplace across the main living room stocked to overflow with cut firewood.

    "'S it still just nice?"

    "It's really nice."

    The both of you explored the space, running from room to room, gawking at the luxurious kitchen and the equally-massive wraparound deck leading out from it. And, having taken in your fill, the two of you begin making dinner - rather, Steve was making dinner and you were relegated to chopping and slicing duty, the conversation between you lighthearted and teasing.

    Midway through your simple stir-fry dinner, seated in the kitchen, you were the first to notice the change in the weather.

    "Steve," You nudged him, and he gave you a questioning look, stopping mid-chew to look at whatever you were pointing at. "It's snowing!"

    "Huh." His brows furrow, his gaze dropping to nothing. "The weather report didn't mention snow."

    "It shouldn't be too bad, right?" You tried to reassure him - and yourself, too - as you followed his train of thought. "They'll make it by tomorrow, for sure."

    "Yeah, for sure…" Steve didn't sound too convinced, but you didn't push the conversation further. Seeing as how he'd made dinner, you volunteered to do the dishes. And, ever the good friend, he'd kept you company, even drying off and putting away whatever you'd finished washing.

    "Steve, I said I was doing the dishes…" You huffed, pulling the damp towel slung over his shoulder and giving his chest a light-hearted swat.

    "What, I'm not allowed to help?" He danced around you, snatching back the towel, and you swiveled around to reach him; he lifted the towel far above your head, well out of your reach, laughing as you tried to jump for it.

    "Steve Harrington, give that back!"

    "Just let me-"

    Stricken mid-sentence, the lights flickered.

    You froze - you both did, Steve's arm an instant vice as he held you against his chest. Neither of you spoke, neither breathed as you listened for the tell-tale sounds of danger, of an unholy nightmare resurrected. You buried your face into the solid safety of his chest, clinging to his shirt as his eyes scanned the room. Several painful, heavy minutes passed before you slowly began to feel him relax, his hold on you loosening ever so slightly.

    "Let me go check the power…" he mumbled, his reluctance palpable as he left you alone, all but running down the hallway to where he'd remembered seeing a breaker box. Throwing it open, he flicked through every switch, yet the cabin remained shrouded in darkness.

    Shutting the panel door, and rounding the corner back into the kitchen, he narrowly missed being hit across the eye by the empty vase you'd commandeered as a weapon.

    "Whoa! Watch the face!" He jumped back, falling out of your swinging range. "The power's out. Snow must've knocked down a line or something." He explained, voice assured, and you sagged in relief at his words, hands visibly shaking as you set the vase back atop the counter. Without missing a beat, Steve stepped toward you, taking your hands in his own, enveloping them, his touch silently pleading you to look at him.

    "Hey," His voice was buttery-soft, gentle in a way he only ever used with you. "There's nothing here. It's just us."

    You shake your head, swallowing dryly, your head falling to your chest as you steadied the erratic beating of your heart. "Y-Yeah, you're right."

    Steve nodded, calling forth every fiber of his being to let you go, to lose the warmth he'd found in your touch. Together, you'd made the most of things - you remembered seeing a box of candles in one of the closets, a pack of matches tucked away between them all, and in no time at all, the living room was bathed in the flickering, golden glow of over a dozen flames. You sat atop the supple leather couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watched Steve light the logs in the fireplace.

    You were cold, your hands tucked against you, the tips of your toes already feeling numb - and from the way Steve rubbed at his arms, he'd felt it, too.

    "Should we… uh…" You tried to ask, your own embarrassment shriveling your words before you could get them out, hands shaking as you tugged anxiously at your fingers. "I-I mean, it's cold, and the fireplace-"

    You gave him an exasperated look, but Steve - bless his athletic soul - wasn't following.

    You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair as you blurted out, "We should sleep here."

    "On the floor?"

    "Yes, Steven, on the floor." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shock. "We can take a couple blankets and make a bed. It'll be warmer here than in the bedrooms."

    Steve turned away from you, staring into the cackling fire. To you, he was considering what you'd said, his expression pensive, almost blank - to him, he was failing to quell his boiling panic at the thought of having to sleep with you… beside you? Whatever - either way, you would be much too close to him and he was not prepared. There were only so many rooms - and therefore only so many blankets - in the cabin, so he knew you wouldn't be able to make two separate beds.

    He had to sleep with you.

    "I-I mean, you're right…"

    You gave him a confused look. "...But?"

    Steve took a deep breath, turning back toward you, and he swore you could see the way his heart pounded in his throat. "No, nothing." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, tried for his best smile - which came through as more of a lopsided grin, but that's beside the point. "Let's get those blankets, huh?"

    Between the two of you, you were proud of the bed you'd made, cozy under the pile of blankets and pillows; splitting for a minute, you both readied for bed, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth in the kitchen - Steve sensed your lingering unease at being in there, so he stood closer to you than he normally would, his hand finding the small of your back as the two of you walked back to the living room.

    "Which side do you want?" You asked him, suddenly feeling shy at seeing him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys-Ed shirt - and, unbeknownst to you, your clothes were having the same effect on him, your oversized shirt reaching your knees like an old nightgown.

    "Doesn't matter." He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, suddenly intent on looking everywhere but at you. "I'll sleep like a rock, anyway."

    You snorted a laugh and crawled into your side of the bed. "Yeah, and you'll keep me up all night with your snoring."

    "I do not snore!" Steve exclaimed, and you laughed even harder at him, obviously having touched a sore spot. "I don't!"

    "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steve." He gave you a withering look, and you collapsed in a fit of giggles - nervous giggles, but he didn't need to know that. He shook his head at you as he crawled in under the blankets, close to you yet still keeping a respectable distance.

    "Candles stay on?" He knew what your answer would be, but he asked anyway, his chest tight as you nodded.

    "Unless it bothers you-"

    "Doesn't bother me, sweetheart." He froze, his breath catching - he'd overstepped. Called you the wrong thing, gotten too comfortable. He waited for you to shake your head, to roll your eyes at him and turn around.

    But, nothing came.

    Steve watched, hands itching from the ferocity of his fraying nerves as you nodded, quieter than usual, curling up on your side as you continued to face him. He laid on his side, toward you, hands bunching the blanket up to his face as he tried to relax - not that he'd be getting much sleep around you, but he could pretend, for your sake.

    Minutes pass, the soft sputtering of the candles a soft harmony to the loud, almost rhythmic cackling of the fireplace. Even in the muted light, you notice Steve trembling beneath the blankets.

    He was cold.

    "Steve?" you whispered, moving closer to him, the sudden drop in temperature making your stomach flip. "Steve, are you okay?"

    "Hm…?" His eyes are slow to open, his voice much more tired than it had been mere moments ago; he'd curled up tighter - you just barely felt how his knees were tucked up to his chest. "What?"

    "You're shivering." You continued to inch closer, your body all but touching his, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember how to move. "Why didn't you say anything?"

    "I was fine before…" he grumbled, shaking his head, his jaw clenched to keep you from hearing his chattering teeth. "'M fine, just go back to sleep."

    You gave him a hard-pressed look, gaze narrowed at the top of his lowered head; before you could convince yourself to do otherwise, you began to fumble about beneath the blankets. Steve cracked an eye open to watch, only to catch you flinging your shirt somewhere off to the side.

    He swallowed audibly, his mind racing - and crashing - as he felt your arms envelope him, your chest pressed to his with only the thin barrier of his shirt between you.

    "[Y/N], w-what are you-"

    "Body heat." Your answer came quickly, much to his surprise, your hands leaving smoldering trails as you rubbed them over his back. "You need to stay warm, Steve."

    He nodded, two thoughts about you dominating his mind:

You were much more selfless than you gave yourself credit for.

You weren't wearing much of anything under that shirt.

    He tried to think of something to do, something to say, but the unfiltered heat radiating off of your skin was too enticing, too overwhelming. He tried getting closer to you, chasing your warmth, but something felt off; something was holding him back.

    In a flash, he'd tossed his shirt aside, the aged fabric landing somewhere near yours.

    "Steve-"

    "Body heat, right?" God, he hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "We can keep each other warm."

    You weren't about to fight that logic, were you?

    He shuffled closer to you, arms settling loosely around your waist, the frigid feeling of his hands trailing over your bare skin sending a shiver through you. Between you, you'd moved your hands up - almost as a buffer, ridiculous as that seemed. But, now you were in a new predicament - your fingers wove through the matte of hair on his chest; you could feel each curl, each wisp as he breathed, your touch both featherlight and branding. His head fell to your shoulder, and his arms tightened over so slightly around you.

    "How are you so hot…?" Steve asked; his head shot up, and you were given an excellent view of the blush spreading up his neck as he quickly amended, "Warm, I mean. Shit, I- You're really warm. N-Not that you're not hot-"

    You giggled, the movement brushing your chest against his, pulling out a gasp from somewhere deep within him that he'd just barely managed to catch. "You're not half-bad yourself, Harrington." Feeling you relax, he tried to do the same, leaning further into you, the scent of your citrus shampoo lulling him into a pleasant sort of halfway-sleep.

    "Uh… H-Hey, Steve…?" He could hear your voice, distant and somewhat muffled, and he grinned against the comfort of your shoulder. "Steve, are you awake?"

    "Yeah…?" He peeled open his eyes, pulled away enough to look at you, confused for only a moment as he tried to follow the way your gaze flicked to the space between you - and when he did, he stopped breathing, his stomach dropping to his half-thawed toes as he sprang away from you, his scalding face clear in the candlelight, hands pressed tightly between his legs.

    "Shit! I- Goddamnit, [Y/N], I didn't… I swear, I wasn't-"

    You watched on, stunned silent as Steve worked himself into a whole-hearted frenzy, shaking as he desperately tried to explain away why he'd gotten hard sleeping with you.

    "Was that… is it my fault?" You couldn't help yourself - here you were, sharing a bed with the man of your dreams, who'd gotten painfully aroused with you in his arms. Your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, "Are you like that because of me?"

    Part of you wished you'd disappear, another thinking of what you had within arm's reach that could be used to tear your own tongue out because who in their right mind asks something like that? You stared at him, lip worried between your teeth, eyes catching the light like a million stars in the night; Steve realized he was at an impasse - you both were.

    It was now or never.

    "Yeah, I… I am."

    Nothing could have prepared you for his answer; you felt as though the floor had collapsed beneath you, turned to quicksand and swallowed you into its grainy depths.

    "Steve-"

    "I like you, [Y/N]."

    You couldn't help the gasp that tumbled past your lips, nor could you quell the sudden flood of tears swelling in your eyes. His words flew around in your head, dominated your thoughts, demanded every ounce of your attention.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    "[Y/N], don't… don't cry- Shit, I didn't…" He'd moved back to you the instant he'd caught the first tear, his arms wrapping back around you - he'd kept his hips turned away from you, the angle awkward, but you didn't notice. "C'mon, baby, I'm sorry-"

    You shook your head, your breathing hiccupped, stuttered as you wiped at your dripping face. To his surprise, you'd laughed, the sound as wet and sodden as it was bubbling.

    "Steve, I'm not… I'm not upset." You tried to tell him, reassure him, meeting his concerned gaze through glossy lashes.

    "But, you're crying-"

    You took his hand in both of yours, held it between your bodies like a tether between souls; he could feel your pulse through your palm, quick and solid and strong.

    "[Y/N]-"

    "I like you, too, Steve."

    He barely believed what he'd heard - you liked him? You'd reciprocated his feelings? The crush he'd been achingly, lovingly nursing since high school was… mutual?

    "Y-You… You do?" He hated how insecure he sounds, how hesitant and uncertain he was; you gave him another blinding smile, dropping your hands as you pressed your bare chest to his.

    "I do." You thank the Heavens above that your voice hadn't wavered - he heard you clear as day, the fluttering he'd feel whenever he was near you now a full-on avalanche of jittery emotion. "I… uh… I have for a while now."

    "Really?"

    You nodded, hiding your face into a lump of bunched-up blanket.

    "How long have you…?"

    "You first." You insisted, your stomach in knots at his shy smile.

    "Since freshman year, at least." Steve replied smoothly, his confidence returning in drips and splashes - it was better than nothing, he'd conceded. "Never thought you'd give me a chance, though."

    "God, I've liked you since, like, fourth grade…" You'd groaned into the blanket, goosebumps running over your body as you caught his soft exhale.

    "Seriously?" He couldn't believe it - you'd been hiding your feelings for him for almost a decade?

    How had he not noticed?

    You'd pulled your head up from the blanket pile just enough to look at him, and you both collapsed into a fit of nervous, giddy laughter, the little space left between your bodies shrinking away. Steve was the first to settle down, staring into the depths of your eyes with the look of a man drowning in his love; he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as your legs tangled together, his rough and pleasantly scratchy against yours, and he waited for you to quiet down before asking, 

    "Is this alright?"

    His hands were at your hips, his thumbs running over the thin elastic band of your underwear. So elated were you, you'd almost forgotten about his… situation.

    Almost.

    Calming yourself, you shifted, slowly pressed your body to his - your hips firm against him - as you nodded, cheeks pink as his rock-hard length throbbed against your stomach.

    "[Y/N]?"

    "Steve, I…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask for what you'd wanted - but, God, did you want to. Lord knows you did. Your head fell to his chest with a quiet groan of frustration, but he understood all the same.

    "[Y/N], look at me."

    You lost yourself in the endless depths of his eyes, your only thought to keep breathing as he reached for your hand.

    "If you don't want to, tell me to stop."

    He watched every flicker of emotion on your face, every expression, every feeling play out in vivid detail; he brought your hand - so small in his own - to the throbbing between his legs, his eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your fingers around him, holding him through the soft material of his sweatpants.

    "God, Steve…" You whispered, giving him an experimental squeeze, your body sweltering with heat as he moaned - it was quiet, just barely louder than an exhale, but you'd heard it all the same.

    You had done that to him, brought him to this, and you ached for more.

    "Take it off." Your tongue poked out to swipe at your lips; he swallowed at the movement, every nerve in his body alight, aflame at the feeling of your hand around him. "Please."

    He didn't need to be asked twice.

    In a single movement, Steve pulled off his pants, chucking them somewhere across the room; you gasped as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath, naked as the day he was born.

    You looked at him, he nodded, and your hand was on him again.

    God, Steve thought, his head pressed to your shoulder, breathing heavy as you began to stroke him, it's never been this good before. All you'd done was touch him, and he could already feel himself begin to unravel, his stomach coiling with his building release.

    You stared down between you in open-mouthed awe, feeling the weight of him in your hand; he actually keened when you'd brought your other hand to cup him, pushing his hips into your grip, chasing more of your touch - of you.

    "B-Baby…" He barely recognized his own voice from how weak he sounded, his hand shaking as he wrapped it over yours, stilling your movements. "Baby, please, I… I can't-"

    Your hands flew off of him, raised up to your chest, a pang of fear seizing your chest at the thought of having hurt him. Were you moving too fast, your grip too tight? "Steve, I-"

    "No! No, sweetheart, it's… It's not you, I swear." He pulled you close, buried his nose in your hair, his voice quiet with embarrassment as he continued, "If you keep doing that, this'll all be over way too fast."

    You giggled at him, your smile broad and beaming as he moved away to look at you, going stiff in more ways than one as you brought his hand to your chest; he could feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath the softness, keeping pace with his own.

    What, like you hadn't heard about his boobies monologue from Robin?

    You felt his fingers twitch against you, desperate to squeeze, but he held himself back, restrained himself.

    "I won't break, y'know."

    God, you were going to kill him, he swore, shaking his head, a nervous grin stretching across his lips - and it was then that he paused, his hand stilling over you as the shameful realization dawned upon him.

    He hadn't even kissed you yet.

    Where's your game, Harrington?

    He'd gone shy on you again, you noted, feeling how his breathing turned slow and deep. "Steve?" You brought your face closer to his, hands at his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks as you urged him to look at you. "Steve, do you-"

    "Can I kiss you?"

    Your silence stretched out for what, to him, felt like hours. Had he pushed you too far, assumed too much? Was kissing too personal for you? His first instinct was to backtrack, to make amends, and he hurriedly mumbled, "I-I mean, it's fine if you don't-"

    "Do it, Steve."

    Your words were clear, demanding in a way that made him shiver in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he trailed his hands over the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his length trapped between your thighs.

    "You want me to kiss you?" He needed to hear it from you, needed you to say it, to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

    "Please."

    Of all the times you'd imagined kissing Steve, of daydreaming about what he'd feel like, nothing could compare to the real thing; you melted against him with a sigh, arms settling around his neck as you pulled him impossibly closer, every pore on your body screaming for this moment to go on, for him to kiss you like this forever.

    And for Steve, kissing you was a miracle - he'd long since resigned himself to wanting you from afar, to watching you from the sidelines, content with the way things were. He didn't think he'd ever gather enough courage to confess his feelings to you, terrified of losing one of the closest friends he's ever had. But, now?

    Now that he's tasted you, he's insatiable.

    He was the one to deepen the kiss, to lean into you, press his body against you, throbbing between your thighs and hissing as his sensitive head caught on the fabric of your underwear. You pulled his hands back to your chest, his tongue tracing over your lip as you pulled off the lacy thing and tossed it aside.

    Your kiss had started saccharine, gentle, coy, but it had devolved into something carnal, primal, fueled on by years of pining and longing and want.

    "[Y/N], can I…? Can- touch you?" Steve panted, his words beginning to fail him, his hair already damp with sweat as it fell over his eyes. You pull one of his hands away from your chest, biting back a moan at the feeling of his calloused palm dragging over your nipple; you guided him between your legs, your breathing labored, eyes clenched shut.

    When he touched you, you screamed.

    Painstakingly, sobbingly slowly, he worked you open, his pride growing tenfold as he felt how wet you were, how slick his fingers were quickly becoming as they moved over you - and all because of him. He brushed his fingers lightly over your clit, his touch barely a touch at all, yet it drove you nearly to the brink of insanity.

    "S-Steve…!" you cried, screamed, no longer caring about the volume of your voice as you ground your hips against his hand, fingers clawing at his back. "Mmm…! Fuck, Steve…!"

    "Talk to me, sweetheart. How's it feelin'?" The closeness of his voice, of his lips pressed to your ear did absolutely nothing to veer you away from the edge of ecstasy you were barreling toward. You could feel him circle a finger around your dripping entrance, teasing you, your body writhing atop the blankets.

    "S… Steve, please…!" You shook in his arms, your face buried against his chest as you begged him for more - and when he finally pressed his finger into you, you both moaned.

    You were so hot, so tight, around his finger, sucking him in, your velvety walls pulsing against him - he could feel his cock weep as he imagined what it'd feel like to be inside of you.

    "Hmm…! A-Ah- Shit, Steve, I…!" Your head began to swim, your breathing rough as he worked you, one hand holding you by the hip while the other thrust into you, his thumb pressing down on your throbbing clit all the while.

    "Where you at, baby?" he panted, his focus breaking away from the sinful squelching coming from between your parted legs.

    "'M close, Steve… Fuck, I- I'm so close…!" You threw your head back, your body arching off the floor as Steve's kept his pace steady, looking very much satisfied with himself as you fell apart in his hands; with a final, trembling moan, you collapsed, panting for air as the sweet thrill of aftershocks shot through you; absentmindedly, you could feel him slide in behind you, holding you against his chest, hands moving idly over your sex-warmed skin.

    Still, even in the rose-colored haze of your mind, you knew you wanted more.

    "[Y/N]?" Steve watched as you turned around in his arms, pulling him into a sloppy, wet kiss. It didn't take much for him to turn to putty in your hands, and he offered no resistance as you nudged him onto his back, legs straddling his hips. "Fuck, baby, I…" he breathed, eyes wide as his gaze moved over you in reverence - bathed in the candlelight, flushed from the bliss he'd given you, he swore you never looked so beautiful.

    You moved your dripping core over his cock hesitantly - unlike Steve, you had no prior experience to draw from. Did it feel good when you pressed down on him? When you sped up? Slowed down? You stared at where your bodies connected, not realizing Steve's eyes had clenched shut, sweat beading down his brow as he tried to keep himself from losing it.

    "Sweetheart, please, I…" Steve moaned, his hands leaving you to drag through his hair. "You're killin' me-"

    "Yeah?" you panted, pushing more of your weight down onto him, your heart soaring at the litany of curses that fell from his lips - and even a few that weren't in English. "How's it feel, pretty boy?"

    At the name, you felt him jump against you, and you swore on your mother's life you'd never seen him flush so red.

    It was as though the very room had gone still, the snow outside ceasing to fall, your breath catching as you lifted yourself off of him; holding him in your hand, you lined him up with your entrance, your eyes shut as you tried to calm your nerves, but you paused at the feeling of hands running over your sides, gentle and soft against you.

    Steve looked up at you, cheeks bursting with color as he held you steady, an unspoken question clear in his eyes.

    Do you want it?

    You nodded, your lips breaking into a smile as you kissed him - and all at once, you pushed yourself down, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you, filling you.

    He was big, and you were loath to admit that the rumors you'd heard about him all throughout high school were true - he deserved to be called "King Steve".

    You fell against him, shaking at the sudden intrusion as his hands soothed over your back, your waist, your thighs, your face, guiding you down onto him, whispering praises into your ear.

    "You're doin' so well, baby. You're so good to me, taking me like that… Fuck-!"

    You were struggling to breathe, face pressed against the crook of his neck as you waited for the pain to melt away - and Steve waited with you, peppering your face in kisses, his hands smoothing over your hair.

    "Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice softer than silk, his concern washing away the lingering traces of your discomfort. You shook your head, biting your lip as you pulled away from him, wiping at the moisture clinging to the corners of your eyes.

    Steve felt his stomach drop. "[Y/N]-"

    "I'm okay." you reassured him, your voice all but gone, eyes fluttering shut as you settled back against his hips - he'd buried himself completely into you, the feeling of you enveloping him almost too much. He waited for you, for your sign that it was alright to move - because once he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

    You accustomed yourself to the feeling of him inside of you, thick and hard and throbbing. "S-Steve…" you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. "You can… You can move-"

    And you fell over when he snapped up into you, breaking out into fits of bright, sparkling laughter.

    "[Y/N]!" Steve couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling your walls squeezing around him. "Baby, you alright?"

    You nodded, still smiling as you threw your arms over your heated face.

    "Keep going, Steve…" you sighed, peeking at him from between your fingers - and his heart swelled, leaning over to kiss you stupid as his hips pounded into you, one of his hands moving down to your clit, rubbing you in time with his thrusts.

    He wasn't going to last - he knew he wasn't - but he'd be damned if you didn't finish before him.

    Your mouth fell open with a wanton moan, hands fisting the blankets at your sides as he gripped your hips roughly enough to bruise, his pace already beginning to falter. He kissed you everywhere he could reach, covering you in his love, his breathing coming out in grunts as he felt himself nearing his end.

    "Baby, I- I'm so fucking close-"

    "Steve, I- Ahh…! I can't…! Steve, please, I'm…!"

    And you reached your peaks together, screaming as you throbbed around him, as he painted you with his release, your bodies sticky as you collapsed onto the blankets, chests heaving for air as you floated back down from the Heavens.

    He was the first to speak. "You still with me?" Steve asked, still winded as he rolled onto his side, his hand moving up to roll a lock of your hair between his fingers - you still smelled like citrus, like sunshine and light.

    But now you smelled like him, too.

    You turned your head to look at him, eyes lidded, your grin blissfully lopsided as you kissed him - gently, sweetly, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips, of the warmth of his breath over your face. "I'm still with you, Steve."

    "Yeah?"

    "Always."

    He pulled you into his arms, his face pressed to your neck; you nudged yourself against him, exhaustion settling over you both like the falling snow.

    Before you'd drifted away, you heard his voice, quiet and meek as he whispered, "I love you."

    Your hands moved over his chest, and you kissed him one final time before falling into oblivion, your sigh of, "I love you, too." barely slipping past your parted lips, Steve chasing after you.

#becca.fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things smut #if any of you read my encanto fic you would know how disastrous my last attempt at writing smut was so i figured practice makes perfect #and i swear i'm still writing Ride the Lightning i just needed to get this off my chest #feedback appreciated <3 #also just imagine if you will robin and the gang arriving the next afternoon all aware of what likely went down #and when they find you two AWFULLY close they all know their little plan succeeded #the group has been trying to get the two of you together for years and figured this would be the best chance

[derekhalesbian]

hear me out. komahina au where hajime is chiaki’s best friend and nagito is chiaki’s brother

#i just think that dynamic would be so fun #chiaki as nagito’s long suffering big sister who simultaneously calls him out on his bullshit constantly and would die for him #the way only siblings can #meanwhile hajime had just gotten over his crush on chiaki and meets nagito by chance when he like #brings her a notebook that got switched with his #and hajime is just like “’godDAMMIT i wasn’t even into guys before this is everyone in that family unfairly pretty’ #nagito hating hajime bc how dare a lowly worm deem it appropriate to be in the presence of his dear sister? #then meeting him and grappling with OH HES HOT AND NICE TO ME #chiaki picking up on this mutual like immediately and either facilitating it (with very obvious plots) or getting disgruntled #bc as much as she loves hajime that’s still her baby brother he wants to date #but either way she just wants them both to be happy #i need to write this #if anyone knows of any fics with chiaki and nagito as siblings hmu #komahina #nagito #chiaki #hajime #dr #kitty needs to chill #personal

[ppjeterka]

was going through my old wips for writing inspo and stumbled across this isolated scene from a fic with a premise i really enjoy but haven't ever elaborated upon for some reason...posting here bc i actually kinda like this scene (?) and also bc I'm hoping posting it will motivate me to work on this and my other mattdrai fic languishing from neglect

#my writing #hrpf #mattdrai #please ignore the way that I'm treating edmonton's reporters like rogue npcs you need to avoid chance encounters with for fear of #triggering a boss fight #this is a magical realism fic the only way you can get me to stop writing magical realism is by prying it from my cold dead hands #JUST NOTICED THE TENSE CONFUSION. WHAT IF I DIED.

[foxcort]

comforter (feyre ver). feyre/tamlin, feyre/cassian au, fluff | ao3

a drabble(ish) series of my favorite feyre ships based off these prompts by @dont-call-my-name-alejandro 💚 / floral banners by saradika.

feyre + tamlin; A waking up because of B getting out of bed to do something. A gets out of bed, finds B, and drags them back to bed.

So distantly it was like being wrapped in a fog, Feyre felt the bed shift, the sheets rustle and the sound of light footsteps retreat from the room with attempted quietness. "Tamlin?" she croaked, some barely risen part of her acknowledging he was gone before she patted the empty space beside her.

With a groan, she rolled from the bed, a flurry of messy hair and barely clad skin, before grabbing her discarded robe from the floor and slipping it on. Feyre sifted her fingers through her hair as she followed the path Tamlin was most likely to take, the cold marble underneath her feet gradually waking her with each step, until she ended up at the threshold of the council room. A fairly new addition to the manor, it was one Lucien had insisted be built to house council for both inner and outer court meetings.

At the moment, only Lucien and Tamlin occupied it, the pair of them standing at the head of a very long, ornately carved table washed in the early morning light spilling from the three large windows framing the eastern wall. Tamlin was dressed similarly to her, which was to say half-dressed at best, in a pair of hastily thrown on pants and a matching dark green, silk robe. A delight to her vision, the robe was left loosely tied and mostly open to expose the muscled, golden skin underneath, accentuated even more by the position of his arms crossed over his chest.

And perhaps she hadn't realized just how much Tamlin's visage was affecting her, for Lucien abruptly stopped talking mid-sentence and took a step back to give the high lord a sharp look of indignation. "I understand I've just pulled you away from your wife, but some decency and decorum would be lovely, Tam."

Tamlin, still half-asleep, gave his emissary a confused look, until whatever Lucien had felt belatedly hit him and his gaze shot to hers like some invisible thread had pulled it. Feyre resisted the urge to kiss him right then and there as he sent her a soft, knowing smile. "Morning, love." His voice was husky, unused and did absolutely terrible things to her self-control.

"No. No, no, no, no." Lucien shoved himself between them even as she stalked closer, her eyes never leaving Tamlin’s. “Just because you—" he pointed an accusing finger in her direction, "—are already prepared for this High Lord meeting, does not mean you can come in here and distract Tamlin when I've finally gotten a chance to prepare him." He folded his arms over his chest, looking every bit a courtier in his formal attire. "Don't forget you are the precise reason I haven't been able to find any time to council him yet, Feyre."

Feyre frowned, her gaze shifting between them, before she declared, "He's hardly dressed for a High Lord meeting."

Tamlin gave a low laugh, his fingers working to tie his robe closed and making her wish she'd chosen a different retort. "Lucien's right. As High Lord of Spring, I'm ill-prepared for this meeting."

"So when the time comes, let the High Lady of Spring take the lead," she challenged, turning her attention to him with a smile that was too predatory to be innocent. "You can sit pretty next to me."

Tamlin's returning smile grew wide, though it seemed he was fighting to control it. He turned to his emissary, a sheepish tinge to his smile now. "I could use the extra rest before they all start arriving."

"Please." Lucien rolled his eyes. "Cauldron knows the two of you don't actually use a bed for its intended purpose."

"A bed can have many purposes, Lucien." Feyre moved closer, looping her hands around Tamlin's neck, who was only too eager to lift her into his arms, one arm slung across the back of her thighs and the other supporting her lower back. "Just because you only use yours for sleeping, doesn't mean the rest of us don't have more creative ideas for it." Lucien gave her an unamused look, but she caught the grin curving Tamlin's mouth as he began to walk them out of the room.

"I'd better see you back in here in an hour, my lady."

Feyre had only a second to shout a replied "Fine!" down the hall, before Tamlin's mouth met hers and everything else was forgotten.

feyre + cassian; A keeping B from getting out of bed by holding them closer, maybe a few kisses here and there. / slightly nsfw!!

"You're terrible."

"Mmhm." Cassian's rumbling response, so close to her ear when he had her trapped in his arms and squeezed against his chest, sent a shiver down Feyre's spine. Cauldron boil him, but he knew exactly how to make her body react. Even when he was half-asleep, and almost as well as she knew how to coax a response from him.

Somehow she managed to remember the reason a sense of urgency had woken her from her sleep, snagging onto it even as the warmth of his arms threatened to envelop her whole. “Emerie’s going to kill me if I show up late again.” She'd promised her friend a morning sparring session with the rest of their training group. Unfortunately, Cassian was Cauldron-bent on making her late to everything nowadays and a tiny, restless part of her couldn't blame him. After all their time skirting around the pull that drew them to each other, after finally admitting what they felt . . . neither could convince the other leaving their bed was worth it.

Feyre froze as he dropped a kiss upon her bare shoulder. “No, she won’t." He sounded like he was smiling. “I told her you'd be training with me today.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, her heart thundering in her chest. “Cassian.”

"Yes, Feyre?" She could feel the teasing smile against her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. Her thoughts were muffled, lost in a collision of a train wreck, the reasonable part of herself drowning in a slew of indecent thoughts just as his fingers curled over her hip. "Should I stop?" He paused his descent and she squeezed his forearm, nails drawing half-moon patterns across his skin. "Would you prefer training with the Valkyries today?"

Frustration flared and Feyre realized he didn't sound so sleepy anymore. No, the bastard was fully awake, tapping those fingers against her hip and refusing to move closer to where she wanted them. "Cassian," she repeated, a growl more than anything.

She felt more than heard his chuckle against her ear, before his fingers dipped lower and she was lost to her pleasure.

#feylin #feyre x tamlin #tamlin x feyre #feyssian #feyre x cassian #cassian x feyre #feyre archeron #tamlin #cassian #acotar fic #it just feels RIGHT when i finally get a chance to write and post feylin like all the planets have aligned and everything is happy #feyre/jurian would be on here if I knew how to write him but I need to complete my reread before I attempt that #also this one is titled feyre ver because im (slowly) working on a nesta ver #🌷 #🪻

[anachronistic-falsehood]

"if vash the stampede were from our modern universe would he be from the midwest usa or california or-" WRONG. THAT MAN IS FROM CANADA. HE IS QUEBECOIS. I DO NOT TAKE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

#trigun #IT'S THE VIBES. ITS THE VIBES #THE TWINS ARE FROM QUEBEC THAT IS FINAL!!!!! #obligatory this is a joke idc what ur hcs are etc etc etc #man i rly need to work on my polygun roadtrip fic theyre all canadian bc i am canadian and i say so #they all have Backstory :3 which i desperately want to expand on but this is a silly fun crack fic so i might not get the chance #but just know. they all have backstories that mirror canon #i gotta start writing that again and actually post it at some point woowoo plushie can wait for a bit i think

[disdaidal]

So I think I'm finally getting a contract and I'm going to start my new studies (as a youth/school counselor) in my old school. I met the principal today and had a talk with him, and he said he was pleased to see me there and would like to have me there because I already know my way around and seemed to manage things just fine when I was still their student. So, that's great, I'm finally getting somewhere.

But I'll have to wait until Friday because he's still not quite sure who's going to be my supervisor, so he's going to have a talk with a couple of staff members about it at first.

And then my teacher in my new school is already pressing me with contract matters and stuff, wanting me to start earlier than I had originally planned or at least get the contract done by then, so uhh. I'm going to have a Teams meeting with her on Friday at 8 o'clock in the morning (I'm not a morning person at all), and I'm sure we're going to have such a lovely discussion about my schedule and study plans and all that stuff.

All this phone-calling and paperwork is giving me a headache. And I still have some school assignments to do and to return before next week, and guess what - ya girl just wants to read and write fanfiction all day and all night. 🤪 Priorities, I has them.

#personal #no seriously i went to bed around 4am because i was writing a fic. and then i got up at 8:30 after snoozing the clock for an hour #because i had the appointment with the principal around 10am so #but anyway despite my poor sleeping schedule i am actually happy about this opportunity #i should be able to work in the evenings if they can just find me a supervisor. which would be super because then i'm not going to have to #wake up early. unless i get a side job because i need money and this is only training so i don't get paid for it. but remains to be seen #i am not feeling awfully energized for school/work combination right now so uhh #but then i'd also get to work as a special needs assistant because this school has a lot of special needs students #so that sounds pretty good actually. it was something i was also thinking about doing before #because i was kind of a special needs student myself when i was younger and i didn't get the help i needed so #helping others with that could be great. a great opportunity indeed #and i may have to help with this other type of class as well #i think they're calling it preparatory education for vocational training in english. i'm not 100% sure what it even means #but well if i get a chance then perhaps i'll find outl #so all in it sounds like they have need for me and i get to do a lot of different stuff so. it should be good #it's. just this. studying itself. and like i said. all this paperwork and making phone calls and stuff. it's stressing me out #so uh #let's just hope that friday makes me a little bit wiser

[lolexjpg]

#FIRST OF ALL i stole this idea from @oversteerey ily #almost put the bottom one as girl!logan loscar but i at least think that one has way more of a chance of getting finished #loscar fic is on life support 4433 fic is dead ya feel? #i have less that 1k left of college au aka acosi it WILL get done #logan just HAD to interrupt my plans by getting point 🥰🥰🥰 #she writes #she speaks #i need sleep so soon. i'm so sweepy. i have covid. what a time 2 be alive

[msnihilist]

Fic idea: Five times Isabella tried to confess to Phineas and one time he confessed to her.

#phineas and ferb #phinabella #might get around to writing this but putting this out there bc i don't like my chances #in my mind this fic goes along as they age and isabella slowly gets disillusioned with her feelings #so her fifth (and last) attempt is very sad #but i'm also living for that 'FINALLY' moment of phineas flirting with her omg <3 #also phineas being soooo down bad my beloved <3 #in my head phineas' confession is huge and elaborate just like everything else he does #but it gets wiped away like everything always does :p bc of course #ferb pushes him to confess without the grand gesture and of course it's perfect just like that bc isabella doesn't need anything fancy <3 #similar idea: five times ferb said nothing and the one time he couldn't stand waiting for phineas to figure it out himself any longer