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Merry Christmas Adam to all who celebrate
Merry Christmas Adam to everyone on Tumblr!
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The first morning that Ted fails to show up at her office with his sheepish smile and corny jokes, the pain and hurt hits Rebecca shockingly hard.
“Sorry boss,” he says at lunch as he hands her the biscuits, “Slept in today. Being in a new relationship always sounded so exhausting, but you know what? It is! I'm beat. I'm about to take a nap at my desk. Now don’t go writing me up for that, boss. That’s ‘friend Ted’ talking.”
He winks. She tries to smile back. As if her heart hasn’t shattered over an overdue box of treats.
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From @somewhereapart’s writing challenge, here’s 100 words of OQ, this was very hard, and i now have two AUs over 500 words which i definitely don’t need considering i have too many WIPs as it is. :)
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“Are you marrying dad?” Roland asks innocently and completely without warning. Regina is watching while his father works late. She isn’t prepared for such questions.
Her heart knocks hard as she sweeps her hands through Roland’s curls.
“That’s a very grown-up question for such a little boy.”
“If you don’t marry him, do you keep it?”
Before she can ask what he means, Roland pulls a little black box from the credenza.
“It’s the prettiest ring!”
Robin comes home, interrupting the moment, briefcases crashing down, jaw dropping open.
Tears blur her sight as she meets Robin’s eyes and nods.
“Yes.”
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Hi! I'm your Valentine! I'm so happy I get to write something for you. I want to ask: is it okay if I write you something from an existing verse you already follow? (I'll probably follow this up with new questions in the next few days!) Have a great day! 😊 Mwah!
YEA YES YES YES YES. I definitely want updates from existing verses definitely!! omg i’m so excited!! 😱😱😱😱
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So here is Dolores listening to one of Bruno's telenovelas through the walls... I had to
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A very Merry Christmas Adam to you fine folks at tumble yet again
Merry Christmas Adam to everyone on Tumblr!
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True Love's Kiss
Outlaw Queen week: Prompt 1- True Loves Kiss
(pssss, it’s angsty, warning, okay.)
True Love’s kiss.
Snow is half smiling, watching it happen, hope in her eyes and in her absently wringing hands, David catches one of her hands in his, squeezing, hope is there in him too, it makes Snow almost cry as she turns back to watch Robin pick Regina up off the ground.
Cursed, Snow thinks, cursed, but even the word has lost some potency, True Love’s kiss can break any curse, after all. Robin picks Regina up from where she’s been lying for some undetermined amount of time, lying in the sloshy mud and rivulets of melting snow water, arms wrapped around her waist, Regina’s hands land on his chest, fingers scrabbling until they find purchase, until they clench in the lapels of his no longer needed thick coat.
Archie dances from foot to foot beside David, Pongo’s leash wrapped multiple times around his wrist to keep the animal from running to Regina’s side, the dog whines and whines.
Regina is shaking, tremors running through her, she’d been alone for long hours, ice in her heart as the battle raged elsewhere with Elsa, her fate unknown until Archie had stumbled upon her unresponsive and blue lipped in a melting snow drift.
Snow squeezes tighter on David’s fingers, through their gloves she thinks his knuckles must be aching, but she can’t loosen her grip, not as Robin says almost too quietly for her to hear, his words meant for Regina and it’s only an odd breeze that bring them to Snow as well. “It’ll be alright,” he says, Regina’s half closed eyes flicker, focus on him under heavy lids, uncooperative legs unwilling to hold her up, “I’m here, Regina.” Robin smiles, his dimples deep in his wind burnt features, Snow smiles with him, she smiles for Regina, she smiles because decades after she’d ruined Regina’s happy ending, here is another and the smile on Snow’s face may never fade.
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23
23. Trying new position.
(sorry, no crazy karmasutra up in here)
“Robin.”
His name from her lips stills him, the trepidation in her voice is new, he’s known her a year, a year finally remembered, and the trepidation is new, it is new and it is certainly not the breathless cry he’d hoped for when this began, his thrusting hips stop, his dick throbbing with each beat of his heart, he’s buried deep inside of her, inside her where it is perfect and warm and absolutely soaking, torturously wet all around him, just as he knew it would be, knew she’d be perfect and lovely and soft the first moment he’d seen her. He’d wanted to be in her bed the moment he lay eyes on her, but it took a bit longer for him to want to be with her always.
“What is it?” he lets her breast free from his mouth, the gorgeous flesh reddened and worked over, there is a mark already forming, he turns up to look at her instead, to see her brow creased, a nervous frown on her face.
Her neck is stretched, he has a grip on her hair, forcing her to arch her back, her neck, to lay herself bare before him, under him, he realizes how hard he’s tugging the silken strands weaved between his fingers, and immediately releases them. “Are you alright?” he questions, voice tight, his whole body tight, his dick still pulsing with want, with need.
She adjust herself, her hips, her thighs sweaty against his sides before she scoots up the bed, scoots until he’s out of her and he can see the breath of relief that spills from her lips, though she turns her head away to hide it.
“I’m sorry,” she’s saying, swallowing and once again looking at him, she is wearing a mask, but she need never wear a mask with him.
“Don’t be sorry,” Robin sooths, sitting up, sitting away from her, she begins to close her legs before he’s even all the way out from between them, “Did I hurt you? I didn’t realize I was pulling your hai-”
“no,” she shakes her head, takes a deep breath and a little bit of the mask slips away, near her eyes, where her masks are always weakest, “no, of course you didn’t hurt me.”
He lands a hand on her right knee, petting the soft and smooth skin, before he pulls away, preparing to stand.
Regina’s hand is around his wrist, inches from the lion decorating his forearm, “Don’t go,” she says, “wait,” she sounds suddenly panicked.
“I wasn’t goin-”
“Let’s try again, I’m sorry,” she pulls at him, is not strong enough to move him all that much.
Robin looks at her for a moment, can see the panic growing behind her eyes, and he knows she expected him to leave, as if all she was to him was a warm bed. That truth makes him desperately sad. “Regina,” he leans down, shuffles so he can kiss her slowly, can kiss her softly, tender kisses that speak of care instead of lust, when he’s done his kisses he places his forehead against hers, feels her breath coasting across his face, his nose, his cheeks, “It’s clear that wasn’t nearly as enjoyable for you as it was for me, m’lady, I won’t abide this an unequal pleasure.”
She’s staring at him, her eyes dark pools, even up so close they are dark, big and dark.
He sinks a hand back into her hair, makes sure to not pull, but pet, brush, to ease each tangle he finds, “What do you like?” he questions.
She frowns slightly, as if it’s a trap, “I’m generally on top,” she admits.
Robin nearly chuckles, because of course, and then he does chuckle, grabs her about the waist and spins, moving them fast, moving them roughly, she squawks, an undignified shriek of surprise and finds herself seated atop him, her dripping cunt wetting his stomach, her warm little hands pushing her weight against his shoulder blades.
He sees her take a deep breath, before she leans down, her breasts flattening against his hard chest, her hands around the back of his neck, sliding over his skin, and she kisses him with a small smile.
And it turns out that position works very well for them both
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OQ #18
18. Morning lazy sex.
He smells coffee, it’s the first thing that invades his slumber.
He hears her voice after, a while after, he is still in that lovely space between sleeping and waking, where he is warm and comfortable, safe, she is not speaking to him, he doesn’t think, on the phone probably, his mind supplies him with, the strange little device that moves your voice around this whole world.
He turns onto his side when he feels the bed dip, she sits down on her side of the bed, the side of the bed closest to the door, he turns towards her, reaches out blindly and encounters a bare knee.
“Good morning,” he offers, not even opening his eyes, he knows it will still be dark outside the windows, in this Maine is not so different from how the Enchanted Forest was, in winter it is dark, dark in the morning, and dark in the afternoon, searingly bright for a while in between, but then it is terribly dark and cold. He can hear the wind outside now that he is awake, a howling cold wind that blows a branch against one of the windows, scratching and scratching, as if the cold is trying to barge in.
“How’s your neck?” she asks him, her hand landing over his, her thumb running over his knuckles, over and over, such a simple little motion, but it nearly sends Robin back to sleep, but it sparks something else in him as well, has his cock stiffening under his flannel pants.
“Much better,” he smiles, cracks one eye lid open, to see her, she’s silhouetted by the light out in the hall, she’d left the door open a bit, the hall light is the only light in the room, in the world even, for how dark it is outside the windows, her profile stark and beautiful, the jut of her nose nearly in her coffee mug as she brings it up for a sip. Robin shifts closer, hand sliding up from her knee, she lets him, her hand still on his, up her bare thigh, under her nighty and stilling just shy of where he very suddenly wants to explore. “A kind hearted woman gave me a message last night,” he says.
She let’s out a teasing hum, “Tell me about this kind hearted woman,” Regina says.
“Well,” Robin smiles, sucks a bit of her outside thigh into his mouth, grazing the flesh with his teeth before pulling back, her fingers twitching against his, “she was very beautiful,” he says.
“Kind hearted woman always are in the stories,” Regina tells him, twisting her spine a bit to extend her other arm over to place her coffee down on the side table, a quiet plunk as it comes to rest upon the hard wood.
“Ah, but this one was quite special,” Robin pulls at her, gently, now that there is no scalding liquid to spill, pulls her until she’s laying down too, next to him, on her back. “You see,” he cups a breast, squeezing the supple flesh through the silk of her sleepwear, “this one was also,” he widens his eyes, meets her gaze, “a witch!” he mock whispers.
She laughs, her chest vibrating, “A kind hearted witch?” eyes closing, it’s then, when her eyes are closed, that Robin rushes forward and absolutely attacks her tits, biting at one savagely, her laughter choking off, her hand in his hair, fingers gripping as she gasps, and again as he squeezes her other breast again, finding her nipple through the fabric and pulling, teasing, easing himself over her, a thigh between her legs, legs that widen to accommodate him.
“You don’t think such a creature could exist?” he asks, humping his half hard dick against her hip, rutting his thigh against her, she makes this absolutely wonderful mewling sound, hands still in his hair as he pushes more weight against her. “I assure, I did not either, yet there she was, this dark haired,” her hand reaches between them, a snaking hand, nimble under his waist band, “dark eyed,” Robin grunts as she wraps her grip around him, no space between them for her to do much but hold him and twitch her fingers up and down, “vision that came in my hour of need.”
“Were you injured on some heroic quest?” she asks, grinning, and when she tries to move, move her legs so all of him can be between them, he eases his weight and lets her. Grunting once more as her soft body, warm and lovely, and smelling incredible too, is under him, under him and around him, her ankles locking around his waist, one of her arms wrapped around his neck, a hand around his dick, and everything is this woman and her curves and her softness.
“Indeed, I was,” he looks up, striking a heroic pose as much as he can laying like he is, “I was nearly bested I’m afraid, nearly lost.” He pouts out his lip, shakes his head, as if sharing trajedy.
and she giggles, a surprising sound from her, rare and fleeting, it is one of his most prized things in all the world to hear, “Bested by a dwarfs couch,” she giggles out, her hand still between them, still wrapped around his wholly hard dick.
She seems surprised when he slips two fingers inside of her, into her warm wet heat, already so wet for him, she stills, her body tenses, “Is this alright?” he asks, kissing her softly, but she is already relaxing, already moving her hips in time with him.
“-oh,” she gasps, cries out, fingernails blunt against his shoulder, grip weakening around his shaft, "yes,“ she whispers against his lips, her body bouncing up and down in his arms, bouncing with each careful shove of his hand.
After she’s come, from his fingers, from his mouth, she’s sweaty and disheveled, her nighty rucked up to her arm pits, she pushes at his flannel pants, tugs them down his hips until his erection springs freely, “I need you,” she tells him, eyes closed, breathing still heavy from her orgasm, “please,” she says, “I need you,” and he is only too happy to oblige her, in this especially, but in everything else, always.
And when he eases inside of her, lining himself up, filling her, balls deep and sliding half out, then in, in and out, she feels more perfect each time, he grunts out her name like it is a prayer, she kisses his forehead, gasps, her mouth so close to his ear, and it is indeed, a very good morning.
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Fun meta asks for writers
Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?
Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)
Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)
What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?
What character do you have the most fun writing?
What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?
Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?
Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?
How would you describe your writing process?
What do you envy in other writers?
Do you want your writing to be famous?
Do you share your writing online? (Drop a link!) Do you have projects you’ve kept just for yourself?
At what point in writing do you come up with a title?
Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?
Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)
Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?
Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.
Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)
Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)
What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)
Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?
What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?
Would you say your writing has changed over time?
What part of writing is the most fun?
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“Are you jealous of your only son?” John asked, daring to chuckle in the face of Robin’s displeasure.
“No,” Robin denied, yet couldn’t take his eyes from the woman and the child.
“Oh, it seems she’s meaning to teach the lad to dance,” John said.
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“Robin-”
“Leave me be,” he growls, his burden heavy in his shaking arms, his voice is hollow, it’s empty.
“I’m so sorr-”
When he spins around, snarl on his face, one of her dangling hands, limp and cold, lifeless, it pitches to and fro with the force of his turn, “Leave me be,” he breathes in anguish.
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“Robin, please let Henry take the picture,” Regina said, her smile starting to strain.
“No, no,” Robin said, evading Henry’s lanky arms, “It’s this large button here, I have it.”
“That’s the focus button,” Henry said, completely unhelpfully.
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Mutilated (2/4)
Part 1
Part 2
It was the way she smiled at Henry that first told Robin something was very, very wrong, but everything was very, very wrong as of late, so he watched and did nothing, nothing as she gave her son an empty smile that did not quite reach her eyes. Her and her son walked down the street thick in their coats, the boy reaching out a gloved hand for his mother’s and that’s when she smiled at Henry, smiled the empty smile. Neither Regina nor Henry noticed Robin’s scrutiny, her focus entirely on the child, and the child’s focus entirely on not slipping on the ice at his feet.
It was Marian that pulled Robin’s attention away from that empty expression on Regina’s face, her hand on Robin’s arm as she slipped on the very ice Henry was so deftly avoiding just across the street. When next he got the opportunity to turn his eyes back to Regina, only moments later, both mother and son were gone, gone, but the ache inside Robin remained, piercing and painful, her smile had been wrong.
But everything was wrong, wasn’t it?
Marian alive and whole and lovely, that was wrong just as much as it was miraculous.
Robin choosing his wife, choosing his wife over Regina, that was wrong too, just as much as it was honorable.
Marian is having an affair, and that’s wrong, but everything has been wrong for months, and Robin swings from uncaring to desperately sad when confronted with the finger sized bruises on his wife’s hips and thighs, but never is he enraged, there was a time he would have shaken Marian and screamed at her in a jealous rage until she told him the other man’s name, and then he would have killed whoever thought they could touch his wife.
But that time is gone.
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