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joelsflower · 10 days

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little present | bfd!joel x f!reader

an: okay i know we’re in APRIL lmaoo sorry but i was listening to last christmas by wham! and the whole idea came to me. enjoy tho!! read it now!! reread it in december!! do whatever!! hope u like it!! :^) so yeah this is christmas themed a bit. sorry. also i apologize if i’m still mistaking “in/on/at” a bit too much, i’m still learning the language :/ hope it’s not too bad and doesn’t influence badly on your reading tho! no beta ops

wc: around 2.5k i believe?

tw: titty sucking and pussy fingering combo (yay!), beginning of blowjob but that’s it, soft dom!joel, older!joel (i imagine him on late 40s/early 50s and reader on early/middle 20s but up to you), best friend’s dad, teasing reader, teasing joel, teasing me, teasing you, reader is able bodied, afab but not described; there’s one part where “your smaller body” is used but in no way to describe reader, just to point she was smaller than joel. image also does not describe reader, only for visuals. no y/n. ALSO. weather not described!! shout out to us latinas who go through christmas sweating and panting 🫡 it can be snowing too tho up to you

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You knocked three times on the door; unsure if it would sound impatient or even be heard due to the loud music and chatting coming from the inside. Sarah didn’t lie about the whole family coming this year for Christmas.

By the look on Joel’s face when he opened the door, your three knocks sounded more like the angels singing.

His big brown eyes lit up like candlelight when they found you. For a moment, you stood there in silent, letting him get drunk in your sight and you in his. The puffy bags under his eyes let you know it was a rough week, a rough week without you. The raspy, yet-to-make scruff adorning his cheeks and neck inciting your skin without even being near it. His calloused knuckles gripped the doorknob and the muscle on his bicep swelled, making your mouth water.

You let your eyes dance from his salt and pepper curls and finally to the little bit of chest peaking from the deep red plaid shirt, and when your eyes found his he broke the spell, letting out what seemed to be the first breath he took since he opened the door.

“Hi, sweetheart. Didn’t know Sarah invited you.” he shrugged weirdly, hand resting on his hip and the other on the door, like he was nervous. Due to college and construction, it’s been around one week since you’ve properly seen each other — it seemed like a whole year.

“Oh, hey santa” you joked, soft voice coaxing his tired ears, nodding to the santa hat hugging his curls. Suddenly, it was like he remembered he was wearing it and took it off, shoving it in his back pocket while making a face, biting back a smile when your giggle hit his ears.

“Uh- yeah, I wasn’t on the plans I think,” your fingers carved on the plate in your hand, and he gave you a “stop that” face, “she just called me last minute. But I have this!” you shook the plate of cookies a little, making it be noticed.

“Didn’t need t’bring anything, ya know. Just you’s enough.” silence once again put itself between the two of you, and if you were losing your mind, Joel could bet he was losing his a lot more harder. Opening the door to find the only sight that could relief his tired eyes on a beautiful red dress that hugged your body perfectly, matching see-through black thighs that allowed him to see just enough to drive him crazy and the need for comfort that he could well read in your gaze was not on his list, but was definitely a present.

Not being able to properly talk or touch you was feeling more like being on santa’s badlist, though. And maybe it was what he deserved, he thought, for fucking his daughter’s best friend and enjoying it so much.

You brought him back to life. What was he supposed to do if not give you the world and the best orgasms in it?

“Uh- come on in, then” he shook his desire away, holding the door open and watching as you passed by him.

One foot past the door and the chatter got louder. Uncles and sisters and cousins of cousins of cousins — there were a lot of Millers in this world, and all of them would be a problem if you wanted just a bit of closeness to Joel tonight.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” you looked up at him shyly, hoping treating him more formally would get you away in case anyone heard anything. Joel, on the other side, could not be less subtle while losing control of how hard he closed the door when your silky voice hit his ears, saying his name, thanking him. Just like you did when he held your wrists up your head and made your foggy bambi eyes roll back your head.

“Here,” he took the santa hat in his hands, stepping closer to put it in your head. The way his fingers carefully put your hair behind your ear set your body on fire, just the slight brush of its tips on your earlobe, the soft but swift strokes on your scalp to put your hair in place sending cold breezes up and down your spine.

“I missed you,” you whispered, lashes flourishing while your fingers boldly played the buttons of his flannel. You just needed to touch him.

But he didn’t answer right away, too focused on “putting the damn thing on your head”, which translates to an excuse to caressing your face and being close enough your sweet, peachy smell invaded his nostrils and messed with his brain chemistry.

“All done” your glossy eyes and quivering lips broke his heart in a million; all he wanted to do was take you in his arms right there. “Later, angel” he reassured you, taking your hand off of his shirt and giving you a softer look, that you knew was his way of apologising and comforting you for now. It was too risky, you knew that too.

“Oh gosh, you’re here, finally!” Sarah jumped on you for a hug, scaring the two of you, her bubbly energy warming you up. “Jesus dad, knew you’d hate it,” she gestured to the hat on your head, filling your mind with thoughts of him. “C’mon, you need to meet cousin Maria!” she dragged you away, the only thing connecting you to Joel being the lingering gaze you’d share for the rest of the night.

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“Ha! Remember that, brother?” Tommy laughed about a story old enough to be your age; about one time him, Joel and their other cousin Frank went fishing and something apparently went wrong, you weren’t really paying attention though.

Not when Joel’s hand had found your knee under the table.

You just had to sit by his side cause Sarah wanted to be close to Maria that was close to Tommy that was close to someone else and the seat by Joel’s side ended up being the only one empty.

“Sit there by dad’s side, he doesn’t care. Here, gimme this,” she took the plate of sweets from your hands, setting it on the table. Joel, who was praying someone could come save him from hearing the same story for the 10th time, made space for you to pull the chair and accommodate your smaller figure by his side.

Around ten minutes into chatting with Sarah and Maria and taking food from left to right on the table, you felt his knee brush yours. The simple warmth of physical connection between the two of you made your whole body vigilant, in hopes for some more.

“Ya should be there, Sarah. Never not funny seeing your old man struggling t’get some fish” Tommy looked towards you, meeting Sarah’s and Maria’s giggles. Joel bit back a laugh, it was funny, yes, but he didn’t want to look like a stupid old man to you. That’s when you met him with a small smile and a brush of your thigh on his, inviting his hand to instinctively envelope your knee.

“Oh, I’ve seen him struggle to do less, believe me”

And I’ve seen him do more with the stamina of a teenage boy, you thought.

Joel’s hand snaked up a bit more into your leg, always careful to not be seen, but stern enough to make you feel him, invading the area of your inner thigh and dragging your dress up a little. The warmth of his large palm against the material pressing at your skin was driving you insane, the way his fingers were digging into your soft but covered flesh and his thumb squeezing at your outer thigh making your core pulse and the hairs at your neck stir up.

Mine, ran through his head.

“Both of you are on my badlist tonight, hope y’know that” he seriously pointed at Sarah and Tommy, giving them an angry-like look and the ones around you bursted laughing. You reached down a hand to lay on top of his, your smaller fingers gripping his much bigger pointer one, his thumb immediately brushing your hand, his way of saying “you’re not”.

🌹🌹🌹

“I think I need some air” you told Sarah as you got up from the couch and released her hand. Your tummy was full and your eyes were starting to get heavy. From the other side of the room, Joel’s eyes followed you to the balcony.

The peace of the outside of the house was everything you needed, trying to keep your mind from the trap of going into the Joel Joel Joel Joel to risky risky risky spiral. The moon lit up the sky and kissed your rosy cheeks, the singing of the crickets taking you away from all the buzz.

Just when you closed your eyes and breathed in the december air, you jumped when a strong hold surrounded your waist, the warmth of his chest hugging your back.

“Jesus, I— they’ll see us” you panicked.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” his other hand spread to pet on your tummy, paired with a kiss to your temple, “I checked, no one’s near. Wouldn’t want t’share you with anyone though, would I? Looking like my own little cherry on this dress” his fingers gripped the dress deep, sliding it up and down your waist a bit.

“I missed you so much” you turned around in his hold, arms wrapping around his neck and tugging at the curls at the base of his scalp. On your tiptoes you glued your body to his, closest as you could get, taking in the strong smell of his cologne that made your insides twirl. One of his hands danced down your spine to rest on your lower back, while the other held the back of your neck.

“Oh angel, missed you too, s’much. Can’t go a day without thinking about you, little one.” His deep voice whispered on your ear. Joel firmed his feet on the ground and swayed your bodies slowly left to right, calming you down. “Thinking about holding you, having you with me. About hearing your voice call me from the other side of the house and moan my name when I’m knuckle deep inside ya’”

“Joel!” You snapped his arm a little, staring into his eyes in disbelief.

“Am I lying?” he looked down at you with his rounded brown eyes, the same that could get you on your knees, mouth hanging open, with this exact same look he was giving you now. You shook your head slowly, fingers anchoring his shirt, “know you love it, baby, I love it too. Shit, should’ve found a way to see you earlier. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He rested his forehead on yours.

You distanced your head back and looked towards the living room, checking to see if you were still safe from prying eyes “want more of you,” you whispered.

Joel smirked, “Later baby, ‘kay?”

You stared up at him, no confirmation.

“Hm? Can you be my good girl and be patient?” He held your chin up with his thumb and pointer, forcing your gaze to be on his and nowhere else, “G’na be worth the wait, promise. But you need to be good f’me. Can you do that?”

“I can” you murmured, eyes closing as his hands found your sides and gave them a firm squeeze.

“Know y’can, darling. My best girl.”

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“Shhh, c’mon angel. Know these precious little sounds belong to me only,” Joel’s deepened voice vibrated on your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and making your head go foggy.

It was a combination of it all, to be honest; his hot mouth and beard on your neck, you only in your underwear and thighs and him fully clothed, his thumbs mercilessly circling your nipples through your bra and his very hard bulge grinding against your pussy and his whole weight pressing you down against his bed.

It started when you both came back to the living room — in separate moments, of course — and then you needed to go the bathroom but the one downstairs was occupied and Joel suddenly needed to check on something very important in his room.

“P-Please, Joel,” you cooed, the pool in your cunt becoming unbearable, your wetness overtaking your poor excuse of panties and messing the front of his jeans.

“‘S okay baby, gonna take care of you,” he gave your mouth a peck, hands releasing your stiffed nipples to hold your face in his hand so his tongue could invade your mouth. “I’ma bad old man, ain’t I? Making my little girl wait for so long to feel good. Fisting my cock the whole week, thinking ‘bout this pussy swallowing me in. Bad, bad man.” you shook your head no in a desperate side-to-side move, fingers gripping his shoulders, as if taking his shirt off, but his force was pinning you down just right.

A sudden grind of his hips into yours and tears pooled on your waterlines, your hands stilling and your throat holding back a moan while Joel groaned at the feeling of his hard cock rocking against you. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, princess? To feel so, so good?” Another desperate nod. “Shh, c’mon baby. G’na make you cum for the week we lost.”

Joel used his hands to lift you by your armpits and sit you against his headboard, lowering his body and dragging your lacy thighs with him, torturously slowly. Now he was face-to-face with your covered pussy, “oh, poor baby. Feel her, angel,” he pressed his thumb up and down your core, your wetness gluing your panties to your slit, overflowing a bit around the lacy edges. “So desperate to be touched, ain’t she? Just waiting for me to take care of her. I will baby, don’t worry. Been such a good little girl f’me. Gonna stuff you full in a minute”

He finally tangled his fingers on the thin stripes of your panties, but first giving the little bow on top of it a little kiss. “My little present,” he murmured, more to himself then to you, but smirking when your core pulsed with his words.

The moment Joel’s fingers slid the lace down your legs and his hot breath ghosted your pussy, you were a goner; all your fuzzy brain could focus on were the strong pressure of his tongue on your clit and his fingers patiently circling your hole.

“Let me in, angel,” he begged and started to push two of his digits inside your pussy, his head now on the level of your cleavage, keeping himself from missing the reaction of his own little Christmas angel being finger fucked by him.

Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open, making a little “o” shape when two of his thick fingers spread you open all at once, making you just so full. “My tight little princess,” he cooed, looking down at your pussy swallowing his fingers in and out, your juice covering his knuckles with each pump, deeper and deeper. The slick sounds of the obscene act you two were dwelling in almost distracted you from hearing Joel’s “who’s pussy is this?”

Instead of answering, your smaller hands held his face and pulled him into a kiss, a very wet, hot kiss, his tongue making home for itself inside your mouth and twirling around your own, teeth grazing at your lower lip hard enough to leave a mark and soft enough to leave you wanting more.

“It’s yours, Joel,” you finally gave him what he wanted, a string of spit connecting the two of you.

“Tha’s my girl.” He curled his fingers to brush at that spot that made your head cloudy and the back of your eyelids starry, pulling the sweetest, most desperate moan from your wet lips (both of them). “And tha’s my pussy, hm?” He watch attentively as your eyes got too hazy and your mouth too open to process what he was saying, “poor little thing, so good can’t even think straight.”

You caught Joel by surprise though, when your hand found his clothed cock, giving your best to grab at it as hard as you could, stroking him with your palm and thumb. Even so lazily, the action drove him crazy enough to lose himself in your neck, fingers still fucking your pussy full and beard leaving marks all over your skin.

Joel allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your hot, pulsing cunt strangling his fingers and your small hand palming his cock to lower his head a little bit, teeth pulling your excuse of a bra to the side (or trying).

“J-Joel,” you plead, the delicate lace of your lingerie ripping like paper in between his teeth.

“G’na get you a new one, love. Lot’s of new ones.” He spent no time, greedily sucking one of your tits into his mouth, tongue languidly abusing your nipple. His mustache hurting the soft skin of the area while his warm spit and velvety lips caressed the burn.

Feeling your pussy pulse and pull him hard, Joel increased the pace of his fingers inside you and directed his attention to your other boob too, his spit lingering all over your chest. “Pussy gripping me real tight, baby, wanna cum, don’t ya? I’ll let ya, c’mon. Cum all over me, little girl.”

And you did. Pussy squirming his fingers and almost making them a part of your own body, lips hanging open with nonsense babble followed by muffled moans and cries, nipples stiff and hard by the overstimulation.

His own little present, as he himself put. All for him.

Joel helped you calm down with sweet kisses to your cheeks and lots of “did so good to me, my little angel”, “missed you having you like this”, “my best girl, makes me so happy, baby”.

“Y’with me?” he nosed at your temple and noticed your eyes turn brighter, the small nod of your head bringing you back to a fully conscious state of mind.

“Open.” he positioned the tip of the fingers that were once inside you on your lower lip, your mouth instinctively hanging open to welcome him inside. “That’s it, ‘atta girl,” he rewarded as you sucked his fingers clean from your own mess, realising why his eyes became so dark with the action.

He hadn’t come yet.

You pulled your mouth from his fingers and kneeled between him and the bed, hands gripping his bulge shamelessly.

“Still gotta clean you up, angel. C’mon, we can do that later. Jus’ wanted t’take care of you.” he held your chin up to gather your attention, a failed attempt, you knew he needed it as much as you.

“‘S okay, I wanna. Just gonna suck on it a little.”

“My sweet girl,” Joel complimented as his palm held the whole side of your face, your bambi gaze distracting him while you worked both his pants and underwear down his legs.

With your mouth only inches away from his girthy, veiny cock that was proudly bouncing in front of your face, you gripped at the thick hairs at his base and gave the swollen, ruddy tip a mouth-open kiss, silky lips enveloping the head while his precum oozed down your tongue and a deep groan left his throat, your fingers gripping his base as your thumbs caressed his balls. You found his gaze again, pulling the most sincere, grateful and innocent look you had.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

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#AHHH WHO WROTED THAT #ofc lis wrote a christmas fic in april! cause lis is insane! and that’s okay!#don’t know if i love this one #but hey a moodboard! anyway byeee #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro characters #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction

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sadhours · 11 months

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gosh ok bestie I wonder when ur gonna hate me for always being here but I can’t help it.

imagine dom billy wakes up horny, and fucks you from behind as he’s spooning you-drilling his cock in and out chasing high. It’s so rough and you love it- you can’t help but moan so loudly to which billy grabs onto you and tells you to shut up because they’re not alone in the house. He’s just using you at this point for his relief. At one point you start crying because it feels so good and he’s all in your ear like -‘fuck. you’re crying?’ And somehow manages to go even faster moaning in your ear. Inspired by this below ☺️

I’m a lil embarrassed I didn’t even realize I had written that until like just now 👀 I was like ugh I love that who wrote that let’s credit them and then I reread it a couple times and I was like oh shit that was me 🙄

Anyways I love you! Here’s this :)

It’s the smell of your hair and skin that triggers it. His nose is shoved into the mess of as he spoons you from behind. Billy woke up maybe ten minutes ago, but he wasn’t really awake. He was drifting in and out, nuzzling against the crook of your neck when he inhales deeply. The sleepy scent of you is one of his favorites, right up there with the salty air at the beach. Usually, it’s a comforting smell as it tries to lure him back to sleep. But this morning, it makes his dick twitch and he actually feels a little feral, going in for another breath of it.

He gropes your hip while he rolls his against your ass. The sensation stirs you, a sweet hum coming from your throat as you turn to look up at him.

“Morning,” you purr, voice a tad scratchy with sleep and Billy thinks you sound so sexy.

“Mhm,” he kisses your jaw and grinds against you again, “Need you.”

His words go straight to your cunt, thighs tingling as you grow wet. It’s what’s so lovely about him; the way he makes you feel so desired. Never in your life have you felt so god damn good about yourself. Not until you met Billy.

“Take me, then,” you plead softly.

You ain’t gotta tell him twice. He moves his hand between your bodies, pushing his briefs to his ankles and kicking them off. Next, his hands pull your flimsy tank top over your breasts and he gives them a squeeze for good measure. Can’t help himself, really. Finds himself grabbing you whenever he gets the urge. He loves the way you act embarrassed about it in public but your body always melts into it, enjoying it just as much as he does. Billy makes quick work of your panties and then grabs your thigh, angling your leg up so you’re open for him.

He smoothes his hand over your ass before rubbing his fingers against your leaking hole. A devious chuckle bordering on a moan leaves his lips as he soaks his fingers in your slick.

“Such an eager slut for me,” he purrs.

Before you can reply, he’s shoving his cock inside your pussy. A low groan escapes him and you let out a little squeal. Billy pounds into you relentlessly, rough and quick thrusts that force your eyes wide before they’re rolling back in your head. It’s an otherworldly bliss. You swear his cock was made just specifically for you; it reaches exactly how deep you need and the slight curve of it angles his tip perfectly against your g-spot. In fact, Billy’s the only person who’s ever made you climax from penetration alone. You seriously didn’t even know it was possible.

His fingernails dig into the skin of your hip as he jackrabbits into you. Your body jerks back and forth with his movements and the bed springs squeak rhythmically. He’s so rough, his face scrunches up in pleasure as he grunts with it. Billy’s pretty damn pornographic and it only makes your cunt that much more soaked, you can hear the squelch of it but it’s more arousing than disgusting. Just evidence of how carnally you want him. Billy’s hips snap against you even harder and you can’t help the loud moan erupting from you.

He grabs hold of your face and looks down at you, “Shut the fuck up. You wanna wake everyone up with that little whore mouth of yours?”

You almost want to say yes, it feels so fucking good you don’t care who hears and a part of you wants everyone to know what he can do to you. But, more than anything to want to please this man, want to be the best good girl for him so you bite your lip and try to keep it down. It’s a struggle though, the drag of his thick length against your clenching walls is excruciatingly delicious. Billy fucks you dumb, drool pooling at the corner of your lips as you meet his gaze with big, shiny eyes.

The position is a little strenuous, you’re almost on your stomach but your neck is craned up to look at him. But you don’t dare complain, can’t fathom him stopping for even a second to throw into whatever position he wants. The sound of skin slapping together is loud, he’s really fucking into you at breakneck speed. Billy’s essentially using you for his release at this point, pushing you hard into the mattress but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re more than happy to be his little fuck toy, a vessel for his pleasure. It’s so demanding yet satisfying that tears begin leaking from your eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans lowly, still holding onto your jaw, “you’re crying.”

It excites him, spurs him even further and he lowers his face down to yours. His thrusts accelerate, force even harder as he drills into your aching cunt. You can’t hold it in any longer, you let out a sob while he moans into your ear.

“Billy! Billy, Billy!” you cry out, whining and moaning. You’re clenching around his cock, it’s too much but too amazing to stop. You need this like you need air.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, moving his hand to grab at your tits. “Feels so good your crying, huh baby?”

“So fucking good,” you whine out, “Billy… gonna cum.”

He groans lowly, “Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl. Give me what I want.”

You spasm around his cock, urged by his words, by the permission. It rips another sob from you, then a slew of loud moans, surely waking your roommates.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whimpers, pushing you fully into your stomach while he thrusts in and out you faster, the slick from your orgasm making it easier. He cums inside you with a guttural moan, collapsing his weight on to your back while he pants in your ear. You can’t imagine a better way to wake up.

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #request

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alittlebitofsainz · 21 days

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a place in this world (carlos’ version)

Chapter 2: Enchanted

an invite to dinner with team 55, a weekend where your driver doesn’t even start the race, a late night hotel room visit to lift both your spirits. life is a rollercoaster, as they say.

pairing: carlos sainz x f!reader, slow burn colleagues to friends to lovers, angst/comfort if you squint

warnings: the usual swearing

a/n: yes I know the sainz family would probably never rent a holiday villa on villaplus dot com, I just needed a quick link to fit the texts in the story

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

13th August, 2020

three days to the Spanish GP

two weeks. that’s how long it had been since carlos sainz had last texted your number. well, one week and six days. not that you were counting, or anything.

you’d seen him in between, of course, for the 70th anniversary grand prix at silverstone, and this weekend for the spanish gp, which had gone markedly better than the two in the uk. he’d scoffed when he’d seen his name in your phone: cs55? is that all I am to you, a pair of initials and a number? it had been playful, of course, but you wondered whether there was a part of him that had been genuinely hurt - you could swear you’d heard it in his voice. but then it was your turn: y/n engineer? what, in case you mix me up with other other y/ns you know? and that was how you’d ended up changing each others contact names (and, of course, carlos had insisted on taking a photo of you to add to your contact details, and you felt obliged to reciprocate, so now you were greeted with his goofy, lop sided smile every time you opened your messages app. a fact you weren’t exactly mad about).

you weren’t exactly mad about the message which confronted you right now, either - surprised, confused and once again intrigued were more appropriate words that sprung to mind. your mind was going into overdrive. dinner? with carlos? like, out in public? surely the rumour mill would go absolutely mental: carlos sainz spotted with mysterious brunette at restaurant in barcelona. but if he seemed to think it was a good idea…

one week and six days, that’s how long it had been since carlos sainz had felt that feeling of relief, of letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, when she texted him back.

as he’d reread his text over and over after sending it, he realised that it very much sounded like he was asking her on a date, god forbid. In reality, he was going out with a group of mates from his team at mclaren, and seeing as she’d mentioned that she’d never been to barcelona before, he’d only wondered if she’d wanted to join them so she could see some of the city. he was starting to wonder whether perhaps he should’ve lead with that fact.

but it hadn’t seemed to have phased her, thank god, although carlos would’ve given a pretty penny to know what was going through her head right now. in fact, he seemed to wish to know what was going on inside her head most days recently, her paradox being that she seemed so straightforward yet complex at the same time. how could a girl who was such an open book still be such a mystery to him?

a group meal. of course. of course! that made so much more sense, a thousand times more sense in fact. why had your mind immediately leapt to some weird, intimate, romantic dinner date with carlos when the obvious explanation was staring you right in the face? do you want to come for dinner with me and the team, seeing as you are in fact part of the team was so much more normal than hey, I’ve known you for five months and I’m a world famous, very wealthy formula one driver, would you, a regular degular race engineer from the south east of england, like to go on a date with me? yeah, no, you’d been a grade a idiot for that one. was there a small part of you that was disappointed? you decided that now was not the time to overanalyse your own feelings; now was the time to find an outfit.

carlos couldn’t hide the grin on his face, all the way to the restaurant. it only started to falter when they arrived bang on 8 o’clock, and then waited, 8:04, and waited, 8:07 and waited, 8:11. it reappeared again when she rounded the corner, slightly flustered and breathless.

“god, I’m so sorry, I got lost.” she apologised with a deep inhale, trying to get her breath back. carlos shook his head and chuckled, the sound low in his throat.

“don’t worry about it. we haven’t been waiting long.” he reassured her. it almost surprised him; usually he would take any opportunity to tease her, especially for being late like she so always was. But there was something about the way her cheeks were flushed that shade of red that gave away that she’d been rushing, and the way her eyes flicked nervously, apologetically, from person to person, that made him feel almost guilty. and when she offered him the warmest, sweetest, most grateful smile he thought he’d ever seen, carlos’ face lit up like a christmas tree.

he pulled her seat out for her when they reached their table, making sure to choose one next to him. an expression crossed her face as she whispered a ‘thank you’ that carlos had never seen before from her - was she nervous? shy? he couldnt put a finger on it. perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t know the rest of the people at the table that well - yes, that must be it. so why, when he knew everyone at this table, and very well he might add, was he feeling the exact same way?

“woah, this place is gorgeous.”

a marbled kitchen adorned your phone screen, and you swiped to the next photo to see a similarly tiled, much smaller room. wow, even the bathroom was fancy.

“and you go here every year?” you continued, swiping again and again to reveal several photos of the master bedroom, all from different angles. you and carlos had been discussing family holidays whilst you all waited for your plates to be cleared, and he’d decided to show you, rather than tell you, about the holiday villa that he and his family often frequented on the costa blanca.

“not every year. as often as we can get out there, though.”

his breath tickled your neck as he leaned over your shoulder to watch as you continued to flick through the photos, the glistening aquamarine pool so large it took up the whole screen, the pale blue glow reflecting on your face. you both leaned back for a moment to allow the waitress to clear the empty dinner plates, before returning your attention to your phone. there was a loud laugh from down the other end of the table, clearly a hilarious conversation was happening between the rest of the group - you both seemed oblivious to it.

“well, it’s no costa blanca, but we love it there.”

carlos’ eyes crinkled at the edges as he grinned, now swiping through pictures on his phone. he let out a chuckle at her comment, as he swiped to reveal the kitchen, a tiny little alcove with slightly dated wooden cupboards and curtains on the windows that were covered in pictures of farm animals.

“where did you say it was again?” carlos asked, fingers swiping again, this time showing a picture of the dining area. his eyes were focused on the french doors at the back of the room, leading out to a patio and a small garden, but beyond that was absolute nothingness - just trees and open sky as far as the eye could see.

“north yorkshire. it’s like, five hours north of london.” she explained, knowing that london was really the only point of reference carlos had when it came to england. she reached out a finger, swiping on his phone to reveal the next picture.

“and that-“ she pointed to a railway line, a large, old fashioned steam train in the process of chugging up the hill, frozen in time by the image. “- is why we go there.”

“and that’s right outside the cottage?”

“and that’s right outside the cottage.” she repeated back to him, an almost proud smile on her face. it was the little things that made her smile.

“that’s really cool.” carlos replied, almost surprising himself by how genuinely he meant that. since when had he been impressed by a tiny two bed cottage in the countryside, with nothing around but trees, hills and a steam train? but when her eyes lit up, her face cracking into a grin, he understood what had changed.

“really?” she asked, the same hint of surprise lacing her voice.

“really.” he replied, glancing up to meet her eyes. “I never got to explore much of the english countryside, and now I’m moving to italy I guess I probably won’t be able to.”

“I always saw you as more of a city guy.” she picked up her wine glass by the stem as she spoke, giving it a small swirl before tipping the wine glass back and taking a final sip, finishing the drink. carlos mirrored her, considering his reply.

“I don’t think I could live in the country.” he explained, “but it’s a nice escape from everything.”

“yeah,” she set her wine glass back down, a small, imperceptible sigh escaping her lips, “I know exactly what you mean.”

30th August 2020, Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

Belgian Grand Prix, DNS

you stared into the mirror on the wall of the bathroom you were getting changed in, and found your scowling face staring back at you. in the past four races, your driver had had rotten luck in three of them, and you could tell how frustrating it was getting for him, and you.

which was why you were surprised when you took out your phone from your pocket and read his message. you were sure he’d leave as soon as he could, which was half the reason you’d disappeared off to the bathrooms to get changed out of your overalls and into a pair of jeans, grand ideas of heading back to the hotel and catching the latest episode of love island going round in your head.

but carlos was staying? you loathed him for it - you now felt you ought to stay too, pulling your top on over your head and combing through your hair in the mirror before grabbing your things and heading out into the corridor. but as you stalked back towards the garage, a thundercloud still hanging fairly low over your head, you realised that you also admired him for it. not everyone would stick around after failing to even start the race. heck, the majority of drivers probably couldn’t be out the door fast enough. but there was something about carlos sainz.

she was there before he’d even had time to pull out his phone, all fake smiles and an ingenuine spring in her step. faint, fading creases around her eyebrows were the only indicators that she’d ever been frowning, ever let herself be unhappy about the situation, now being replaced with new lines from forcing her lips to curve upwards just like that. how come carlos had only known her, what, five months now, and yet he felt like he knew her so well?

“hey.” he greeted simply as she made her way over to the monitors where carlos was stood, a pair of orange headphones around her neck, the same as he had round his. as she came to stand next to him, he threw an arm round her shoulders, squeezing her into a side hug. was he imagining things, or did she lean oh-so-delicately into his touch? the next moment she was pulling away, looking him square in the eye.

“you okay?” she asked softly.

“not really, you?”

“no, not at all.”

and then they were both smiling, almost laughing, all curved lips and sparkling eyes, nothing fake or ingenuine about their expressions. how did she always manage to do that? turn such a shitty situation on its head, leave carlos smiling when all he wanted to do was crawl into a dark hole and avoid everyone for a very long time? as he looked at her, really looked at her, he was beginning to understand that maybe, just maybe, he had the same effect on her.

you’d used that phrase a few weeks ago, after the second race at silverstone, the second thirteenth place in a row, and now carlos couldn’t stop using it. you’d noticed him picking up a lot of your phrases and mannerisms recently, his friends teasing him whenever he pulled out a ‘swings and roundabouts’, or god forbid a slap on the thigh and a call of ‘right!’ to announce that it was time to leave. they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

it was several hours after the race had concluded; you were now bundled up in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, splayed out on your bed mindlessly scrolling through instagram when his message came through. you were becoming increasingly less surprised every time carlos texted you, a level of understanding developing between you that you enjoyed each other’s company, and you wagered that you could both do with some cheering up round about now.

it had been a bit of a long shot, carlos realised. the two of them had never hung out one on one outside of the events of the race weekend, but right now there was no one else he’d rather speak to, rather while away the hours of the evening watching all the trash tv they’d spoken about over dinner a few weeks ago. no matter how frequently he messaged her nowadays, he still always got butterflies when she texted back.

it wasn’t even five minutes before she was knocking at his door, the orange of her mclaren sweatshirt picking up the flecks of amber in her eyes, still somehow shining through even in the low light. since when had he started to take notice of things like that?

her presence lit up the room immediately, both metaphorically and physically.

“anyone would think you’re a vampire, considering how many times I’ve found you sitting alone in the dark.” she chastised as she flicked on the lamp in the corner, adding a soft warm glow to carlos’ hotel room. he chuckled.

“can you blame me?”

his tone was light, a soft smile across his lips, but there was a hint of sadness to his voice which gave him away. her own smile faltered, as she went over to join him sitting on the bed. she sat shoulder to shoulder with him, as she had done on the pitwall earlier, watching the remainder of the race in companiable silence; the warmth seemed to radiate through carlos’ body from the spot where her upper arm met his, as it had done then as well.

“no, I suppose not.”

she sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair off of her forehead. carlos turned to look at her; she appeared to be thinking before she finally spoke.

“you know, I admire what you did today.”

“what, not start the race?”

that earned him a playful bump to the shoulder and a small, musical laugh.

“no! no, I mean staying around to watch the race. not many drivers would do that in your position.” the corners of her mouth still twitched with the remnants of the way he’d made her laugh, but he could sense some sort of sincerity behind her words. he shrugged his shoulders, as if trying to shrug off the swelling sense of pride he was feeling as it sunk in: she admired him.

“I’m sure many drivers would have done the same thing. I’m not special.” he replied, feeling suddenly very humble under her gaze. she shook her head, the movement almost immediate.

“you are special.” her voice caught in her throat slightly at the first word, causing the other two to come out quietly, her voice almost a whisper. if the room hadn’t been completely silent, carlos might have been able to convince himself that he hadn’t heard them, that he’d imagined it.

they spent the rest of the evening as he’d imagined it - talking about anything and everything whilst netflix took them through episode after episode of selling sunset in the background. it was nearly midnight by the time she returned to her own room, latching her arms round his neck as she said goodnight to him with an embrace. her hair tickled his nose; he swore he could still feel it now, even when he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, several hotel rooms separating them. her words were still going round in his head. he reckoned they probably would stay there for quite some time.

you are special. you are special. you are special.

taglist: @itsjustkhaos

message/comment if you want to be added!

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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mynameis-noe-body · 7 months

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hello umm so i’m the howler anon haha

okay hear me out! if you don’t mind can i make an addition for my previous request?

i’m sorry but-this idea just popped out i just can’t ignore it: a scene where snape replay the memories of their night in spinner’s end in his pensieve.

it can be the pensieve scene leading up to their howler exchange(s) ? or the other way around where the howler exchange leading up to snape replaying the memories. ooorrrr he watch/reacting to the memories and narrating it to the howler he’ll sent later to licorice.

orr you can reverse it where it’s licorice having a pensieve or you can do both or mixed things up lmaooo idk anymore😭😭😭i’m such indecisive person so please your choice i trust your creative liberties 🫡

whatever your choice i’d be happy to read it

and thank you so much for accepting my previous request! ❤️

Here is your drabble — it's short, but it's hot. I'll try to write more in the next day, in the meantime I hope you'll enjoy this. Thank you so much for requesting. 🖤

I can't stop thinking about it. Thinking about you, your hands, the way I came to your gentle touch. I think of you, and I dream of you. At night, when I'm alone, I imagine your tongue between my sweet lips —

Severus squeezes the letter between his fingers with such force that it crumples all over. It's the third time he reread it. He can't take it anymore. He can't stop thinking about it. At first he denied himself any pleasure — touching himself at the memory of that night is damn wrong, she's far away and if she knew, if she could see the way he's desperate for some relief, it would be awkward and embarassing. When that howler arrived, though... along with that letter! He couldn't resist. And now, for the third time, Severus can't stop thinking about it. Her breasts between his lips, her firm nipples, the sweet taste of juices around her small, tight pussy. His greedy hand squeezes the head of his cock, and he digs his teeth into his cheek to hold back a moan, failing miserably. His cock slides so deliciously into his hand — legs wide open on the couch, hand full of lube gripping his member tightly, wanking it intensely, up and down, little drops of precum slide down his length making everything so wet and warm.

That howler — Severus still remembered the sweet, desperate sounds of your breathing, your deep panting, his name whispered like a prayer. And the intense moan of your orgasm.

I want to feel you inside, I want you deep inside me. I want your fingers and your tongue and —

"F-fuck" Severus growls. He's close, so close.

— your hands pulling my hair, and spanking me. I want you to remember how much I am yours, I want you to leave marks and bruises on me as if —

"Ah! God — yes!" with a strangled moan, Severus tightens his entire hand around his cock. His orgasm explodes. Rich streams of seed dirty his hand.

You're perfect. Even in his memories, even in your letters. With a resigned sigh, cleaning himself of all the sweat, the lubricant and his own semen, he grabs pen and paper. There is only one thing he wants to write in his response letter.

Come back soon. I need you.

#severus snape #pro snape #snape fandom #severus snape fandom #snape smut #severus snape smut

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creationcitystreet-em · 1 year

Text

Found

Sequel to Captured

Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson) x Latina Reader

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, drugging, abuse, suggested sexual abuse, blood

A/N: omg I’m so excited that I wrote this because I’ve been having such a case of writer’s block for months and I just had all my creativity show up before bed. I’m sorry if there are mistakes, I did not reread/edit it because I was just too excited to share it and I have to wake up early for work tomorrow. I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think!

word count: ~1400

Masterlist

You sat in the chair you were strapped down to with tape across your lips. You scratched at the wood beneath your fingertips, dry blood from your nails already at the cracks you made whenever you were in the chair. This was where the riddler put you when he was otherwise occupied.

As terrible as it was, it was still better than when he put his attention on you. He would take the tape and ropes off and drug you, causing the rest of the experience to be hazy and all the more terrifying because your mind couldn’t focus on what was going on. The memories you did have when the drugs wore off made your anxiety rise as all you could remember were glimpses of a smack across the face, or being thrown against the wall, or lying in what you assumed was his bed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to picture anything else, trying not to let your imagination run wild with the events over the past few days already in your mind. You tried to picture Bruce, his voice and his eyes, before they got distorted by the riddler’s and it just caused you to start crying all over again.

You knew Bruce wasn’t resting until he found you. He was already consumed by the hunt of this masked murderer before you were captured, you could only imagine what he was like after seeing the video of you that was sent out into Gotham. Which is why you had whatever hope left inside of you aimed at Bruce finding you before it was too late.

The riddler had strapped you in the next room earlier when you heard a gunshot come from the window he would watch out of. You tried to focus on the commotion outside, someone had to have known you were in there. Before you knew it, you saw him run past you and out the window in the bathroom and then you heard glass breaking outside in the hall. You began to cry out to whoever it was the best you could with your mouth taped shut. The front door was slammed open and you heard heavy footsteps walk in. Just as he rounded the corner you made eye contact, you began to sob tears of relief.

It was your Bruce, as the batman, standing in front of you. He was lightning quick in getting to your chair to cut off the ropes and take off the tape. As soon as you were free you jumped into his arms, your own tightly wrapped around his neck. You continued to sob into him and never wanted to let go. He squeezed you back and buried his face into your hair as he let out a shaky breath.

He reluctantly loosened his grip as a swarm of cops flooded the apartment. You barely registered the incoming people as all you wanted to do was keep hold of Bruce, not thinking about how it would jeopardize his identity.

“You’re safe now,” he stated in his rough voice with a friendly pat on your back in order to maintain his cover. Part of him wanted nothing more than to throw it all away and take care of you properly as Bruce instead of as the batman who wasn’t supposed to know you at all. However, he knew that in the long run that could only bring more danger to you and he would never let you be put in a situation like this ever again. So he mustered up all the strength left in him to remain just the man who saved your life and not the man who loved you more than anything else in the world.

“She needs medical attention,” Bruce said as he turned to Gordon next to him.

“Well get medics here right away, they’ll take her to the hospital. Miss Y/L/N, do you know where he went?” You finally came to your senses and realized you couldn’t continue to hold onto Bruce like you were.

“Thank you,” you said through your tears towards Bruce before loosening your grip. “Thank you.” You pulled your hands away and squeezed them tightly together as you took a half step back and looked into the most calming eyes before you. You looked down slightly and tried to focus on Gordan’s question. “Umm, the bathroom,” you said quietly. “Out the window.”

As they both began towards the bathroom, you couldn’t help yourself from shooting your hand out and gripping Bruce’s arm, stopping him from walking away. You gave him a terrified look, worried that if he left your side for even a second, something bad would happen to you again. Before Bruce could say anything, Gordon saw what had happened and spoke up.

“Y/N?” he asked gently as approached you. He saw a scared young woman who was clinging to the only safety she knew in the man who had saved her life. He knew he would have to help get you to let him go. “We’re all here to help you, we’re here to protect you, I promise. The best way he can help you right now,” he nodded towards the batman, “is by catching that son of a bitch. Medics will be here soon to take you to a doctor, and they’ll get your fiance there. Bruce Wayne, he’ll be there.”

“Ok,” you whispered and nodded slightly. You looked back into Bruce’s eyes, trying to come to terms with the idea that you would have to leave so he could finish his job and then eventually he would come back to you. “Thank you,” you said to Bruce, but you hoped that he knew what you really meant behind your words. You wanted to say ‘i love you’, but this would have to do for now. He sent you back a nod, and you knew it was his secret way of being able to say it back. You gave his arm a small squeeze with your hand before letting go. Wrapped your own arms around your body and gripped your skin for support. Soon you were whisked away and sent to the hospital.

You couldn’t tell how long it was before Bruce finally showed up in his normal clothes, running through the door of your hospital room. He quickly sat himself on the bed beside you and gently put his hands on your face. He wiped the tears falling from your eyes with his thumbs and kissed your nose. It was something he often did to make you laugh. All it did this time was make you cry harder. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his shirt, smelling the distinct ‘Bruce’ smell he had that brought you a little comfort and peace. He held you close to his chest and rested his cheek on top of your head. He couldn’t hold back his own tears any longer and finally let them fall.

He had you safe in his arms and he was never letting go again. He didn’t know everything that had happened to you while you were at the hands of the riddler, but his mind couldn’t help but think of the worst. He tried to push those thoughts away and made a promise to himself that he would do whatever it took to help you through healing from this horrible experience. You had been the light for him for so long, he would try his very best to be the light for you now.

And you would need that light, because the more memories that came from your time being kidnapped, the darker your world felt. You knew Bruce blamed himself for your capture, but you would never place that on him. He was your everything, and he took care of you and made you feel less broken inside. Nothing would change the love you had for him and the feeling of safety you had when you knew he was around. And he knew that he was incredibly lucky to still have you in his life, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize that ever again.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x latina reader #robert pattinson batman #latina!reader #latina reader #robert pattinson #batman riddler #batman #the batman #riddler #paul dano riddler #batman x reader #the batman x latina reader #bruce wayne x latina!reader #reader #reader insert #fanfic

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arxxq · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄❀—𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

╰┈➤ ❝ [What flower represents you? ] ❞

IN WHICH—The famous prodigy named Itoshi Sae slowly falls in love with a girl who works as a florist

part one..

Afab florist reader x Itoshi Sae

Mistakes will be corrected once I reread

||❀᪥𑁍❀᪥𑁍❀᪥𑁍❀᪥𑁍❀᪥𑁍᪥❀𑁍᪥𑁍||

Few days have passed since then, he's house is know we'll fully decorated with the flowers y/n had chose for him. Even so, Itoshi Sae didn't know why he felt the need to go back to the flower shop once more.

He wondered why, but no answer came to mind. It's as if his brain is asking why while his heart feels the urge...no it's more of has the urge to just go back there..and meet that girl once more. He kept asking questions in his head.

He despise why he's having this feeling right now. To him, this feeling is quite new. He never felt this in his whole entire life. Hating this feeling he decided maybe it will all end once he goes back to that flower shop.

Calling his driver, sae asked or more of demanded his driver to send him to the flower store he went to a few days. His driver was quite confused to why he gave he such an odd request but he didn't have the guts to even question it.

Now here sae was...Infront of the same store he thought he'll never go back to. Entering the store, the same bell rang and he was then again welcomed with the same welcoming and calm mood when he first entered the shop.

He still did not felt a sense of relief when he entered the shop, but that all disappeared when he heard the same voice he would expect to hear in the shop.

"Well if it isn't Itoshi Sae? What brings you here this time..?" The girl smirked while carrying a basket of what seems like freshly picked flowers. Sae didn't know what to say. He himself was questioning why he was here..so he kept trying to think of what he could say.

Lucky for him his mind recalled to what his manager had told him from before. "nothing much, I just want to thank you for the choice of flowers.." he said. The girl set down her basket on the table she used to wrap the flowers. She crossed her arms and looked at sae with a weird look.

"You really think I'm convinced..? Tell me the real reason," she laughed. That was where sae was internally panicking. I mean what was he supposed to say? He can't just say, "oh I just wanted to see you again,". No that would make this situation more awkward.

His head then clicked on to something. He remembered that he swore to himself that he would try to learn the language of flowers. "Soo?" His thinking came to a halt. He let out a breathe he didn't knew he was holding and admitted his reason..even if it won't be quite true at least it might be convincing.

"Since I figured the flowers you had chose had meanings I decided to learn flower language from you," he mumbled just enough for her to hear. This piqued y/n's interest. She smiled anyways. "And why should I help? It's not going to benefit me anyways.." she teased. It was just a harmless joke but it seemed like Sae took it seriously.

"I'll help you out around here, I'll even mentioned your shop on the social medias and interviews—" y/n immediately covered his mouth which made her realized he took her teasing a bit to seriously. "I-i that was intended to be a joke...," Sae then proceeds to pull away the hand that was on his mouth. "Well I wasn't, I'll actually help out if you'd allow me to," y/n looked straight into his teal eyes that managed to get her flustered.

"yeah suit yourself...how about this, I'll tell you 5 flowers a day along with it's meaning everytime you visit my store.." Sae thought about it. "And honestly if you'd like to help out that would actually benefit me alot..,"

Sae thought about it. It doesn't sound that bad. I mean it's a win-win situation. He gets to learn flower language and see you every day and his help will also benefit y/n since he'll help out the store with everything he can do.

"okay that sounds good I guess..when do I start?" He questioned. "I mean if you'd like you can start now?" And that I guess was day one of sae learning flower language...

𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦:

As sae was struggling to wrap the flowers into a bouquet, y/n noticed him struggling and she chuckled. "Need some help there Itoshi?" Sae groaned. "No, I can do this on my own," y/n continued to laugh and sae was cursing go himself. Y/n went towards him and smiled. She took the plastic wrapper from sae along with the flowers as gentle as she can. As she was slowly wraps the flower into a bouquet, sae observes in admiration.

"so what flowers would you like to know about?" She asked as she continues to wrap the other flowers. Sae not moving his gaze from her answered. "I don't know anything about flowers so you can just tell me anything you want,"

She smiled. "Well I'll start with my favorites..due to its meanings! So I'll start with

Red roses..it's common flower that people use to symbolize deep love for someone and it's mostly given to a person you are planning to court in a relationship or others

Hydrangeas could mean gratitude for being understood but it could also mean Frigidity and heartlessness

Besides red roses, I also love red carnations..it means something like "alas for my poor heart, my heart aches deep love.."

Pink camelia means..longing for someone you love. You can give this to anyone honestly, doesn't matter if it's for a s/o or relatives

And last but not least...yellow tulips that's symbolize "sunshine in your smile"

I also do love orchids but it seems to me, you already know that one,"

Sae took note to every single word you had said. Although it might take a while for him to register the whole thing, he could see how much you loved to rant about flowers..and it shocked him to know that he loved the fascination in your eyes. The whole time he didn't realized he had been letting out a small smile. He was in luck though since it didn't seen like you had notice his smile.

"Well I guess I have to get used to this more often.."

GAHH that took a while ( ╹▽╹ ) and my cousin is literally staring at me like a maniac lol. Also the flowers mentioned might be mentioned to future parts I will make. There's a specific reason why I chose those flowers ( ꈍᴗꈍ) anyways I hope you love this one. I'll be working on my headcanons after I write for part 2 of Bookstore Stranger. So that means Flower language will be on hold kinda? Anyways love you all. Stay healthy alright!

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳aryssa;hasinah

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okamirayne · 7 days

Text

Burnout Recovery

Meaning, something that burnout can ruthlessly steal from you. What returns it?

Thank you to every single blessed individual reviewer, reader and reacher who has ever reached out to me regarding my writing and shared your experience of my storytelling madness. I’m currently rereading every message and review I’ve ever been blessed to receive; to remind me how to answer the vital questions posed here that I have struggled with ever since burnout hit:

What is the gift you carry in your soul? What have you brought with you into the heart of the village?

I love and appreciate those who so kindly remind me of the meaning of what I do, which trumps all drill-sergeant self-talk, and forced modern-culture motivation mantras (the hustle shit) that only leads to further stress and illness. 🙏🏼

Modern Culture is fucked sideways and upside-down right now. Hello Clown World 🤡

Takeaways:

Cultivate your own myths and soul-medicines to find your meaning. If you can’t find joy in your old go-to pleasures right now, please find relief from any of your pressures.

If nothing seems to fill you right now, you may need to Empty Out rather than consume or try to fill what feels like a void. Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether we’re truly empty inside, or too full of shit to feel.

It feels strange to share this, but as people have enquired (and are so sadly suffering similarly), I said I would do my best to offer my random and humble findings as I navigate my own way from the hellfire wasteland of burnout back to my writing worlds again.

I hope this helps someone. 🙏🏼 Even if it’s just to acknowledge their sadness.

For any other creatives going through burnout and are in the baby steps of recovery — or even if you’re sitting in the wreckage and not yet on recovery’s road just yet— I get you, I see you, I hear you, I feel for you, and I wish you so much grace in gently cradling and protecting the gifts you hold whilst your mind/body/spirit heals so you can return to your creative projects again and feel what the fires of burnout scorched and then extinguished in you.

Beauty CAN come out of Ashes.

And that beauty doesn’t have to be a phoenix. It can be a tiny, tiny spark — and even if the spark doesn’t catch just yet, stay with it, stay with it, please stay with it ✨

~ Rayne ☕️💜

Thank you BtB readers/reviewers for staying with me as I return to HHU to help me find my way back to my sparks once more ✨💖 Love and appreciate you 🙏🏼

#burnout recovery #healing from burnout #return to the writing well #remembering who you are #writer burnout #writers burnout #creative burnout #burnout support

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bangtan-in-black · 1 year

Text

Fruits of my labour // chapter 5

Yerum rubs his sore eyes as he rereads the textbook mandated by his school. He grumbles as Douhyun kicks his side. His brother had been kicking him every night since they started sleeping in the same bed as each other. In a way it was a relief. Sort of proof that he was still asleep next to him. Still next to him.

Yerum looked over to his mother, who was staring at the ceiling, still awake. He noted that she hadn't been sleeping lately. He couldn't blame her. Yerum knew that Douhyun was still too young to truly understand the situation at hand. That the police didn't know when or even if Hyungsik would be found. They couldn't explain that to Douhyun, not yet. Not until he's old enough.

Looking back down at his textbook he reread the citations on the diagram of a chicken's digestive tract. Yerum didn't quite know when or if he'd need this information but it was what was in his school's curriculum.

After reading for a little while he started to hear creaking, the creaking was accompanied by a strange feeling in his stomach, a gut feeling screaming danger was coming.

He closes the book and focuses all his attention on listening close to the sounds of the city apartment outside the bedroom door.

He heard the turning of the door handle and his heart started pounding against his chest.

The door continued to move and suddenly he was looking face to face with seven men.

He quickly moves back, trying to get away from the seven men who had just broken into his family’s home.

His mother had also heard the door opening and as she looked in the direction of the door, her eyes widened.

She quickly practically leaps up and grabs hold of Douhyun and Yerum who grips on to his mother. .

“Oh, how cute.” A man in a dark suit hums, peering at the family in front of him. Yerum’s gaze travelled from each of the men's faces to the guns they had gripped in their hands.

“Please, what do you want?” His mother stuttered, Yerum could feel the rapidly beating of her heart against his back. The terror in her voice only made Yerum even more scared. His mother had always found a way to hold it together. Even when they had to move to this cheaper apartment, even through all the times when they had struggled with money. She had always managed to stay calm for them.

Growing up and seeing his mother struggle was hard but in a way it was so inspirational to Yerum.

“We want what was rightfully ours in the first place.” One of the men spoke, his voice was soft and in itself a vast contrast to his appearance. His hands gripping his gun tightly.

“Hand over the children.” A man with tattooed arms motions to the two children who were nestled between the woman's arms.

“NO! Please I'll do anything, don't hurt my babies.” Y/n lets out a shaky breath. Trying to contain her tears.

“You seem to have misunderstood. We don't want to hurt your children. “ A serpent's voice fills the room.

“Then what do you want! Please don't hurt my little brother.” Yerum cries.

Jimin looks over at the boy's face and he struggles to not tear up. He could see the similarities between his son and himself.

“We don't want to hurt any of you, your mother needs to let go of you now. We’ll take you home.” A handsome but intimidating man says as he gestures to the two boys curled up in your arms.

“No, their home is here with me! You can't take my kids!”

“Why not, we already have your other son, what's his name? Hyungsik is it? He's with us now.”

Your heart raced and you gripped tighter to your children.

“WHy did you bastards take my baby?! He did nothing wrong.”

“Who said anything about him doing anything wrong? We took him because he's my son. You don't even remember me do you? We slept together and we had a baby. A baby I didn't know about because you never even tried to find me. Why shouldn't we inflict the same pain that you gave to us.”

Even though you were in shock you managed to mutter “us?”

“Yes, you seemed to enjoy your past wild nights so much that you had three children with three different men. What a coincidence it is that those three men are now married and happy alongside their other husbands.”

“Eomma?” Yerum questions.

“Please! Just leave us alone. Please just leave us alone.” You begged.

“No can do I am afraid, now hand over the children. Our children.”

“Please, don't take them away from me. I’m sorry, i'm so sorry”

“I think it's a little late for an apology don't you?”

“Please, I'll do anything. Just don't take my babies away from me.” tears start falling from your eyes.

“You're pretty confident for someone who’s face to face with seven men who are all holding guns.”

“My children are worth the risk.” you spit.

“That's it, I'm tired of waiting. Yoongi ", a man with an intricate dragon tattoo on his neck, nods to who you assume is Yoongi. Said man moves forward, his gun steady in his hands as he places the barrel against your head.

“Please don't do this,” You couldn't control the shaking in your voice.

“Please don't hurt my mother.” a new voice enters the room, the voice shaking with pure fear.

“No, it's ok baby. Shh shh” You try to calm Douhyun down but his lip quivers and tears start falling from his eyes.

“You may be my dad, but trust me if you do anything to my mother I will never forgive you! Who do you think you are? Maybe my mother was in the wrong but look at you now, threatening a woman's life in front of her sons. One of whom is only six!” Yerum shouts, looking directly into the eyes of the seven men in the room.

The man known as Yoongi, who was holding the gun to his mothers head, his hand wavers.

“So, if you take us, you'll have to take our mother too. I can promise you, as mad as you are at her it will be nothing compared to the pure rage i, we all will feel if something happens to our mother.” - Yerum

The men look at each other and slowly lower their guns.

“Get them in the car, all of them.”

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alwayschasingrainbows · 5 months

Text

Part 2 of Dean Priest's headcanons (written in a great hope he shall be forgiven): *Please, read the first part before reading this*

He likes talking to Emily about books and giving her advice on her writing - until he realizes she's, in fact, talented. And he starts hating her talent. It means he will not be able to keep her - she'll be out of his grasp.

He hates Teddy Kent, because he has everything Dean doesn't. "But," Dean thinks, watching Mrs. Kent - "Not a mother like mine".

He is overwhelmed with a vindictive joy when he watches as Teddy Kent shakes Emily's hand in the most polite fashion. He smiles at the boy (Dean's smile is just as cynical as his laughter) and his and Teddy's eyes lock, for a moment. "I won", Dean seems to say, and, for a second, there is a spark of anger in Teddy's face. But that boy turns and leaves, not once looking back. "He doesn't want to give me a satisfaction", Dean thinks and his smile widens. Emily's eyes are closed, so she doesn't notice his expression. Dean never mistakes gaiety for happiness.

There are times Dean hates himself for lying to Emily. He comforts her, that winter she is ill. He's gentle, compassionate, understanding. Deep inside, beneath the fear, hopelessness and guilt, lies a sense of being needed. He remembers his mother. You are enough. Oh, but is he? He clings to the memory, as he holds Emily's pale, thin hand.

Their summer of happiness is the most beautiful period of his life. He can't believe his luck. He buys the house Emily loves, because he wants to make her happy. And undo... what he said. "But," he tells himself, "she'll be fine." He buys her a writing desk and tries to fight down the fear, when she looks at this indifferently.

He begins to love the house, too. A home. He and Emily are going to buid a home of their own. A happy home, where there are no fights, no resentments, no hatred. This house is disappointed - like Dean was - and it wants it to live. He wants to live. Somehow, the house become Dean - they're one. Waiting. Hoping.

He hungs his mother's picture on the wall. When Emily asks, why his mother looks so sad, he remembers the time she had cried, with her head on his childish pillow. Because she married a Priest. Right then, he vows to himself that Emily will never cry, if he is able to prevent it.

He almost kisses Emily. Later, he wonders what might have happened if he succeeded. But, as with Douglas, he'll never find out.

There is a short period of time his laughter loses the cynical ring. But when Emily tells him she can't marry him, Dean thinks that his laughter has never sounded less human-like.

He tells Emily the truth, for he can't live a lie. He doesn't believe when she says she forgives him. Disappointed House is disappointed again - just like he is. Houses, as people, cannot escape their fate.

Again, he's back to travelling. Back to escaping. He will never hear Emily say she's going to miss him. It doesn't matter, he tells himself. He doesn't even pretend to believe it.

He loves The Moral of The Rose. He rereads it every time he feels depressed - so, of course, he knows it by heart very soon. I am glad I didn't kill her dreams. Somehow, this thought makes him hate himself a little more, because it is only because of her these ambitions are alive.

He feels an odd sense of gaiety, somehow, when he hears about Teddy and Ilse. "He'll never win, now. He will never have Emily. None of us won." Buthe feels tired... old... and certainly not enough.

It doesn't even hurt when he learns about Emily's engagement. There is an odd sense of relief - he no longer has to dread the day he is going to find out.

He gives Emily the house, because he doesn't have a use for it, anyway. It deserves to live, to be loved - it deserves to be a home. He hopes this Kent boy is going to be good to her. He hopes he'll give her all the love Dean wanted to give. He hopes that Kent will make her shine. Dean couldn't make her shine - he'd almost killed her light. Perhaps he's too broken to fix. "You are enough" his once mother said. Perhaps it was only a dream, but he clings to this thought. It is all he has.

#emily of new moon #dean priest #dean priest headcanons #part 2 #l m montgomery

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sonosvegliato · 1 month

Note

Currently rereading "to an athlete dying young" and going absolutely insane over it, it is so well written!

I have yet to find anyone who is even half as good as you are at establishing insanely high tension/stakes while also doing comedic relief the way you do, every single interaction absolutely kills me. Especially Tim's interactions with Jason and Bruce are so incredibly interesting, you really nail those!!!!!

Reading your fic isn't enough, I need to print it out & eat it.

That being said, what does your writing process look like, if you don't mind me asking?

This is a question I only imagined getting once I have my original work published, so thank you for stoking the ever-hotter flames of my ego while I shoot into the stratosphere.

When I am famous with 10 books published and documentaries are made about me, I dream I will have a well-polished answer for to this question. SYKE.

Process:

F around and find out. Not in a threatening way. Just like—playing around with ideas like they're Legos and you are a three year old baby.

A lot of the time I get a snippet of something and I do a "sketch" of it before I forget it. I have a lot of these, and some of them are impossible to interconnect, so I literally take apart the story and rearrange it, and will do this once, twice, or five times to get through a single scene. I read this writing advice once where if you're stuck on a scene than the problem you really have is a chapter back, and I'm not much for universal writing advice, but I do believe that if I'm stuck in a place, then something else has got to be better. Sort of like pulling a car in park over and over again until you sorta get in in between the lines. I am really bad at parking. Literally not figuratively.

To an Athlete Dying Young is probably the closest to plotting I've ever been, since I'm using what actually happened in the comics as a loose guide for the events in the series. But I still write snippets that I jam together and take apart and peel and stick. My document looks like [LINKS NOTES RESEARCH] [STORY STORY STORY STORY] [RANDOM SCENE] [STORY] [SNIPPET SNIPPET SNIPPET SNIPPET] with some hyping myself up in between. Example of my "plotting", pure and unedited:

^ wouldn't you like to know where this is from

And here's a snippet that was possibly going to be in hold the low lintel up. I was going to have Tim move in with Jason. This is everything I wrote for it, so you're not missing any context:

“I’ve had to move out of my house,” Tim continues.

“That’s…a change. Can I ask what—”

“My uncle isn’t real,” Tim says.

Hood lifts his hands. They pause in the air for twenty seconds before he lowers them, fingers extended towards Tim. “What?”

“My uncle’s fake. I made him up. They’d’ve made me live somewhere else, otherwise,” Tim says. “I…I don’t want to live there.”

He leans against the warehouse wall, feels the dusty wood under the flat of his hands. “So, anyway, I was just wondering…” He glances at his shoes, then back to Hood. Nervousness, with an ounce of confidence. Just a pinch, not too much. Very little trust can take you very far. “If it were maybe possible…”

He trails off just as Hood starts to lean forward. Hook, line—

“Could I stay with you?”

—and sinker.

“I don’t think so,” Hood says.“Why not move in with your brother?”

“He’s working. I couldn’t do that to him.” And he lives too far away.

“I’m working, too,” Hood says. “And I can guarantee I’m not doing the kind of things your cop brother will like.”

“Alright. Well, if you want to find me, you can find me in the Bowery, where that old church is. I don’t think any rogues have made their hideouts there, but I guess I’ll find out.”

“Park Row isn’t safest place in the world right now,” Hood says. “You know there’s a reason people call it Crime Alley, right?”

“I’ve been around here longer than you think.”

“Look. Kid. You can’t stay with me. And with all these new murders, I don’t think it’s a good idea you’re even coming here. I get it. You don’t want child services sniffing your ass. I get that more than anybody, but. There are people out there, strangers even, who are willing to help you.”

It’s not a guilt trip. It’s a gentle emotional suggestion. It’s taking Hood by the collar and throwing him over Tim’s shoulder to slam him into a giant guilt pit that only gets deeper the more he struggles. Tim’s English teacher calls it pathos.

Then the suit for an extra layer of DRAMA.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also, Tim and Superboy were supposed to be better friends and have sleepovers.

“You were sleep talking,” Superboy says. “It woke me up.”

“Sorry,” Tim says.

“You don’t look so good, bro. You going to be sick or something?”

“No.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tim hears the sheets shift as Superboy turns over.

“I don’t have dreams,” he says. “I hear they can be pretty gnarly though. Was yours gnarly?”

“Yeah.”

“You drink apple juice before bed?”

“No.”

“Good. I hear apple juice fucks you up.”

They fall silent. Tim doesn’t have his phone to distract him. He stares in the darkness at the blank wall.

“And cheese,” Superboy says. “Cheese will make you dream some wild shit. Again, can’t say if it’s true. But that’s what the internet told me. I learn a lot of things on the internet.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, Black Canary was going to have a role similar to the one she has in Young Justice.

I actually have quite a few snippets of her being sort of Tim's therapist, stereotypical Couch of Mental Breakdowns included, but it never got included into the story, just remained outlier scenes. Also Tim was not very receptive to talking it out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summary: If I'm bored in the story, I throw a firecracker and watch stuff blow up ✌️

Thank you for asking! And it's an absolute honor to have written a story that's both worth a reread and being eaten. Hope this entertains you until I get the next part up!

#batman fanfiction #tim drake #fanfic #my fic #rock on yo

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 8 months

Note

For the fanfic asks: 6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? and 18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Fanfic asks

Must admit, I was excited to see you sent in an ask! XD But in answer to your questions:

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

There's quite a few so buckle up:

it was all a dream, i just called to say, and in law out(ing) by @canariie: her writing is beautiful, her plots are offer many sweet and homely moments, and they all feature my OTP. The first was a request form me and I love the direction to she took it, giving Toshiro and Momo a soft moment where they're both scared but then turning it into a moment Toshiro can express how he truly feels. The second is beautiful from start to finish, giving us an interaction between two like-minded individuals who have been through a lot and would probably benefit from meeting each other in canon; also the last third is just so good for a Hitsuhina fan! The last is just great fun, and I love seeing Shinji and Toshiro interact like this (it also gave us #letshinjifish2k23, what's not to love?!) If for some reason you haven't read these fics (or any of her fics for that matter) and you're a hitsuhina fan, read them after this post!

Bleach Returns day 3: A Time to Celebrate by @recurring-polynya: yeah that's right, I go back and read this fic of yours! It's one of the most humorous fics I've read, and it never fails to make me smile. I love all the characters' banter with each other, it feels organic and it's awesome to see some character interact with each other (seriously, I never thought I'd want to see Chad interact with Rangiku and Toshiro, but here we are). I've been meaning to read your submission for this year's BLEACH Anime Celebration too, but I'm sure I'll love it!

a cacophny in stillness by @visionen-im-spiegel: I mentioned it in my last ask response, but there's just something about this fic. I love to come back and reread it as a whole, but there's just certain sections I read it for. I love in the last chapter where Momo finds Toshiro, and there's that shock of seeing him at first, but more than that, there's relief that the war is all finally over, and they have each other in that moment of realisation.

the warmest place in the world by @pinkhairedlily: this is such a fluffy read! I love snippet of the hitsuhina married life here, it feels authentic and organic. I always laugh at the drunk Toshiro scene, the poor guy forgets he finally married Momo! XD

D O N K I and Away, Away by @bleachbleachbleach: I've said many thinks about their writing, and I cannot praise them enough. These two fics in particular hit me though. Again, a little biased here, but the first was written as a request from me, but like with canariie, it got taken in a direction I didn't see coming but absolutely loved. Toshiro and Orihime interactions are always a 10/10 for me, they're a soft friendship that needs to explored more. And this fic even got me to care about the weird unspoken side characters in Orihime's neighbourhood! Away, Away holds a special place for me, as it was the first fic I read from bleachbleachbleach, I come back to it because I still marvel at the world building, the atmosphere throughout, and the character interactions being so on point.

18. What's one of your favorite lines you've written in a fic?

There's more than one line here, but I feels it needs context for me to explain why it's one of my faves. This one is from On the Shoreline:

“I-I didn’t understand why you were becoming so distant, I thought getting away from the Soul Society would help, but now I think I know. Are you…?” She’s conflicted, her lips opening to continuing her question, only to close seconds later and becoming a taut, pressed line. He’d wanted to tell her what was on his mind, but not like this. To his own ear, he’s ended up both paranoid and like a child complaining about something not going his way. He's upset her. Toshiro sighs, suddenly more tired than before. “What is it?” She still hesitates, her focus on the waves circling his ankles. Eventually, she raises her head and steps closer. “Are you scared?” It hits him in the chest like a stone thrown into glass. For a second, his blood runs tight and cold in his limbs. His heart skips a beat, then clenches. He can feel hairline fractures running through him, threatening to break apart.

I still can't forget how long I sat there trying to come up with a line to emphasis the impact this question has on Toshiro. This was the moment in the story where he finally breaks down more or less, and finally tells Momo what's been going on for him. He's been keeping his walls up, but they aren't strong ones; he's at a point where they're being worn down and he's barely making it through this trip, and Momo's concern, her insight into who he is and how he's feeling, finally breaks them down completely.

It might be a corny or cliched line, but love how it turned out in the grant scheme of the story. Her question hit him hard, and finally got him to open up to her when he's been the exact opposite for most of the fic.

Thanks so much for sending these in! :D

#toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #matured form #fanfiction #bleach #asks #ask meme #recurring polynya

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shywhitemoose · 2 years

Note

Do you have any good recs for obikin fics? (No aus?)

Hi anon! So sorry for the delay 😩 I generally try to be more responsive but have been on vacation with the family and it's been tricky to find tumblr time!

Let me start by saying I may not be the best person to ask for fic recs at the moment, especially if you’re looking for recent work, because I've been devoting more of my free time these last two years to my art and writing than to reading. Also, a large portion of what I have read lately is obikin outside the galaxy far far away, which is not what you’re asking for. Most of my favorites include some element of smut (and accordingly rated M or E), but I tend to gravitate toward the ones that have a lot of feelings to go with it. To keep this manageable, I’m also only including completed works, although I’m invested in many fantastic WIPs.

Anyway, all that said, here are a handful that hopefully meet your criteria and have left lasting impressions on me:

With a Warm and Tender Hand by @temple-mistress (~38K words)

After a harrowing encounter with the enemy, Obi-Wan and Anakin manage to save themselves, but they're left on edge, with raw nerves and shaking hands. While they attempt to treat their physical injuries, the tension between them escalates, until they're forced to deal with the intense feelings they have for each other.

OK this has been around for many many years - I remember reading it on something that was decidedly NOT Ao3, and I’m pretty sure it was my first Obikin fic. It was certainly my most formative, anyway, and it still holds up. I’ve reread it more times than I can count. Sweet, emotional, beautiful dialogue and characterization, lovely description, slow, tender intimacy. The author checked all my boxes with this one!!

Cross-Wired by @himboskywalker (~4K)

In the midst of battle Anakin's prosthesis takes damage and with no backup arm, it's a problem that needs immediate fixing. But crushed durasteel and fritzed wires equals all sorts of curious nerve responses while his master tries to disconnect the neural receptors.

Everything I’ve read by Tag (which unfortunately is not everything she’s written) is top tier, but this lovely little one-shot in particular just stuck with me. The details in her language paint such a vivid picture, and the sexual tension is flawless. I’m also a big fan of her work Invictus, in which the boys go through a bunch of tropes because the Force just wants them to get together, lol. So so good.

i witness heaven in unholy time by @boonki (~9K)

...love comes in different forms, and Anakin and Obi-wan were intimate with them all. And in a way, they had always known, always bled into each other until their organs ran in union, lungs and brains working as one. They were the ultimate team, intimate in a way that few people would ever experience. Having grown into men together, survived war together, cried together, laughed together—love was unavoidable, really. But this is not a love story—because it can’t be.

Ok this one is heartbreaking, but in the best way. Unforgettably beautiful. Physical and emotional intimacy written like a poem, balanced with a touch of comic relief. I’ve only read it a couple times because frankly it’s so pretty it hurts, but I can’t leave it off this list because it left such a mark on me.

My Moon After the Tide by LemonTwister (~39K)

After being inflicted with a paralytic toxin, Anakin is unable to care for himself until he recovers. Obi-Wan promises to provide his Padawan with everything he needs.

It’s been quite a while since I read this but this is another one that has stuck with me for years. Again both sweet and hot. It’s a weakness of mine what can I say 🤷‍♀️

Homestead by @jswander and @whohatessand (~46K)

After their failed altercation on Mustafar, Obi-Wan Kenobi secretly stows away with his former Padawan now turned Sith Lord and traitor to the Republic. Or, Obi-Wan deals with a troubled newly widowed Anakin, two twins, and desperately needs a hug.

This was just... god. It was such a great comfort fic for me. The authors here took such great care to weave a story that gives our boys the time they really need to heal after Anakin’s transgressions prior to Mustafar, and I really appreciate the inclusion of the twins as Obi-Wan and Anakin learn how to be together. It is part of a series (the remainder of which I have yet to read but is on my very, very long to-read list).

Swear On It by @dirkygoodness (~7K)

Anakin lets his feet take him a good ways from camp before he actually stops, breathing fast from the memory of his dream. He squeezes his eyes shut tight against it and holds his breath for a moment, trying to get himself under control. Tonight it doesn’t seem to be working, though, because the images of people he knows and loves hurt and bloody and dead just won’t get out of his mind.

A perfect little one-shot where Anakin’s been having bad dreams and Obi-Wan knows it and tries to get him to talk about it. I love the way this author writes Anakin - their dialogue is wonderful the smut is incredible and Anakin’s feelings do All The Things to my heart.

O Trespass Sweetly Urged by @artemisthehuntress (~9K)

Anakin and Obi-Wan witness a sex ritual while on a mission. Obi-Wan doesn't understand why Anakin is so scandalized by this, until Anakin admits that he's never had sex.

Obi-Wan...might need a minute to process that.

Another one shot that has stayed with me long after the first read. Arty is so funny and I love the humor she injects into the dialogue between these two idiots as they fumble their way through their feelings. Sweet and tender, my jam 💜

Good Form by @ranianke (~15K)

Obi-Wan needs help shooting a training video. What could go wrong?

This one has more dom/sub undertones than my other recs, and Obi-Wan is *almost* cruel in the way he teases Anakin, but I had to include this because it is SO well written, the tension is absolutely sublime, and the smut is... so very very hot [blush].

I’m so sorry that’s all I have in me for now, but please know there are SO MANY GOOD OBIKIN FICS and I cannot fit all my love for everyone and their stories into one post. I will say that @gffa periodically pulls together phenomenal fic recs, though, so I would highly recommend visiting those lists for more recent stuff! Lumi is such a treasure to this fandom!

Thanks for the ask, I hope this helps 🧡 And if you have anything more specific in mind feel free to let me know - If I can’t help I can try to track down someone who can :)

#fic recs #obikin #asks

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amethystunarmed · 3 months

Note

Okay I absolutely MUST know what 'Behold!' is.

Ooh! I was hoping someone would ask about that!

So 'Behold!' is a yet-to-be-named epic fantasy novel series that I am working on with @little-engineer-who-cant. The two of us wrote a novel together in like 8th grade and we recently reread to laugh about how... inexperienced we were, to say the least.

But we started talking and realized... we could fix it. Oh my god we could fix it, and it became a story about fae courts, the specialest boy to ever live being a tired 27-year-old barista, the most toxic polycule in all recorded history, and a changeling who was stolen in the nineties wanting to know all about what the Backstreet Boys are up too!

Have a snippet of my lovely characters from the Summer Court!

The moment Nightshade slits the Summer Queen's throat, he can feel the power flowing through him. It feels like the pounding of his feet as he runs through the desert dunes, constant, scalding, and unstable. He can feel it licking inside the confines of his rib cage, burning black stripes about the bone. It burns at him, at his magic, destroying what existed to create room for something new. He grits his teeth, clenching around the miniature sun that had begun to roost in his lungs.

“Wonderful work, now release the power to me!” Aziz says. Nightshade can barely hear them over the roaring swell of power in his ears.

It is all encompassing, the power. Nightshade is struck by the thought that he could remake the world in his image, that he could sculpt mountains and burn through enemies and glass the very sands surrounding him.

It is terrible and he wants it out.

“Now!” Aziz shouts. Nightshade is certain it is supposed to be an order, but they are too desperate to be convincing. The roiling sandstorm in his head nearly blocks out all his vision, but he manages to focus on Aziz’s face. They look terrified.

Nightshade barely manages to stay upright as he reaches for Aziz. They catch him, holding him up beneath his armpits. “Nightshade?” They ask, sounding less scared. That is good, Nightshade thinks, though he can’t remember why. He presses his hands to Aziz’s cheeks. Their skin, once so brilliantly warm, feels like ice in his grasp.

“Take it!” he gasps, pulling together the ramshackle remains of his telepathy from the ashes. He links with Aziz, desperate and sloppy. Aziz hisses in pain as Nightshade barrels his way into their mind. He can see all of it, the way Nightshade had lit up with golden power, hair, skin, eyes all radiating light, heat, power. He can see Aziz’s despair when Nightshade didn’t respond, the utter certainty Nightshade was going to betray them and take the Court for himself. And, most powerful of all, he feels the deep, overwhelming desire, like nothing Nightshade has ever felt. He doesn’t know if he has ever felt an emotion as strongly as Aziz has, if he has ever wanted anything as badly as Aziz wants the power currently scorching its way through his veins.

The magic feels it too, the raw ambition that stands as a pillar in Aziz’s psyche. It is drawn to it, bubbling and bounding around it like an excited puppy. Nightshade gives it a choice, and the magic chooses its next host, running from his body, down his arms and into Aziz. His arms scream against the funneling magic, it’s too much, too much power in a confined space, he fears they will explode from his body, he needs more, more contact, more anything, he is burning, oh stars-

As you wish, he hears Aziz’s voice in his mind. And Aziz is kissing him, mouth and nose and chest pressing against him. They wrap their arms around his neck and run fingers through Nightshade’s hairand his body sings with relief. Magic lights up every point of contact as it soaks into Aziz’s skin and Nightshade can feel them growing warmer and warmer in his grip. The last trickles of the magic pour into Aziz and Nightshade’s own magic swirls back into his now empty vessel. He nearly sobs in relief as the cool shadows roll through him, and he easily feels the absolute triumph exuding from Aziz’s every pore, before he is shoved out of Aziz’s mind entirely. Nightshade opens his eyes and is awed by the sight before him.

Aziz is brilliant, radiating heat and light with the power of a thousand stars. It suits them, glittering through the scales on their cheeks. Their braids whip around from a self-made gale and Nightshade watches in horror as the gold beads melt from them, trickling into puddles on the floor. The curtains set alight, the food set out on the table chars to embers, but Nightshade feels nothing more than the comfortable warmth of lying in a sunbeam on a summer afternoon.

Aziz opens their mouth and lets out a loud shaky sound. At first, Nightshade thinks they are sobbing. But a brilliant smile splits their face and Nightshade realizes they are laughing. They reach up, and press another gentler kiss to Nightshade’s lips. He unconsciously returns it, sinking into the comforting heat like a warm beverage on a cold night.

“You brilliant, beautiful creature,” Aziz breathes against his mouth, “I am going to give you everything you want.”

Nightshade can’t wait.

#my writing #behold!#ask game #oc: nightshade #oc: aziz

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jcryptid · 2 years

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The Magnus (fic rec) Archives

This one has been literally years in the making and a true testiment to the power of hyperfixation and what I could maybe do if my brain decided something like graduating highschool was actually really interesting.

I'm sure my fic preferences will be made very much clear as you read this, so do keep in mind said preferences might not allign with yours. I have included a lot of Whump, H/C and angst in my list, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's fine, have a nice day. I've also got some content warnings in my descriptions as well for the more... intense....whump?... yeah let's go with that.

(Most are all Jmart, but there's some JonTim, some LonelyEyes on the side, and the occassional OG archivist squad polyamory, anything tagged as Jon/Elias is 100% in some kind of whump scenario)

Rec list and key under the cut (^o^)/

Key:

Bold = 11/10 fic, very much had me thinking about if for way longer than I should have, recommending it way too many times than is necessary and pretty regularly rereading it

Purple italics = didn't quite have the same earth shattering effect as the bold fics, but very much worth a read all the same

Plain text = it's up there fam, but not quite on the same level as the purple italics or bold fics

The garden of forking paths - by bibliocratic

After killing Elias and presumably setting the world back the way it was Jon and Martin find themselves falling through the doors of the distortion, holding each other tight and doing everything they can to not let go. It's only when Jon wakes up later to an archivist named Sasha and the Tim he used to know waving an axe in his face that he realizes that wherever somewhere else was, he came through alone.

First fic I ever read for TMA that I connected with really, written midway through season 5 so we pretty much ignore any canon ending, but I don’t think any of us are particularly complaining about that one considering the sheer amount of fix its. (Completed)

Out There, Somewhere - Artyphex

Jon wakes up, blind and alone and bleeding out having been spat out of the crack between realities after the end of the world and now finds himself alone, alone and in pain, entirely alone in a way he's never felt before, in a world that is not his with no one he knows and loves beside him. And he is left to search, with unseeing eyes and shaking words for the one person he needs to know is okay. (Completed)

They keep trying to row away (series) - by assigned_Jon_Kin_Again (sparrow0), blackwood (transjon), radula (stickpenalties), screechfox, skvadern

Body horror mermaid fic that breaks my heart in the best way, feat. Archivist Sasha and maybe a polyamory between the 4 main archivist crew? Either way a hurt/comfort mermaid fic that I can't stop coming back to. If you're a big fan of Whump and excessive angst with the sweat relief of comfort this is the fic for you, but please for the love of god pay attention to the Trigger Warnings. (Series complete)

Family, Found - Dribblescribbles

Basira was there for the unknowing, she was there when Elias told them all to their faces that he was a bastard who was using them for something none of them could understand, and ever since the unknowing she's been doing whatever she could, taking whatever scraps of investigations she could to find the answers. And of all the people it had to be Helen who helped her figure it out. Because Jon is not a monster, but the Web and the Eye are doing their damn best to make him one, and she's going to make sure that the others working for the archives aren't doing the same. (One Shot)

My witness brings me Into existence - by driflew

A take on Not!Jon au with an exploration on what happens if he comes back and the experiences he has to deal with as someone who cannot be physically remembered but still wants to help out Sasha and the others, even if Elias, the one person who seems to know him, won't let him.

This one has me feeling a lot of things, currently existing as just a One shot but I'm still crossing my fingers from some extra additions to the series, and boy does this one have me coming back on the regular. (Completed fic, Series ongoing)

Not a Second Thought - by i_can_do_fics

An alternate take on Not!Jon, specifically involving the web instead of the stranger. Where people aren't replaced, but thin unseeable strings of spider silk force his hand and his tongue and his body in no way he can resist. And after everything that'd happened since this all started, he's not quite sure it's a bad thing. (One shot)

Miles to Go before I sleep - by AuralQueer

Sleep Dep. Hurt Comfort Set S4, feat. A Jon who is putting himself through way too much crap but honestly that's just par for the course. (One shot)

Beastly Behavior - by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin is a man struck by a curse, a curse that is vindictive and cruel and cast by someone he will always love despite everything she's done to him. Jon is a man on the run from a monster of his own, a man with all the power in the world to take everything he has left of himself for his own entertainment. Two men with two tasks, a mother and a grandmother, both dying in their beds and both losing a part of their freedom and themselves trying to save them. Both terrified of the world they live in, of the person they grow to love, of the people they may be becoming.

A Beauty and the Beast au with a bit of a twist, and a happy ending well worth the wait. (Completed)

The Sea Calls Me Home - mothjons

Martin Blackwood takes a job at Peter Lukas's estate in exchange for his mother's care and

their housing for his service. It's not a pretty job, it's not anything Martin would have picked for himself but nothing he'd had ever would be and he's resigned himself to that fact, no matter how much it hurts. And then he meets a strange man by the sea, and god knows all the secrets and the pain of loving someone is the one choice he knows for certain he'd never give up.

Not going to lie this one had by ugly crying by the end. A great and honestly very angsty take on Mer Jon x Martin but also set during the height of WWI and I promise you there is of course a happy ending they both deserve. (Complete)

Head in the Lion's Mouth - by renwhit

Au where Danny is alive, damaged goods but alive. So when a certain archivist, possibly delirious and in pain, narrows his eyes and tells him he looks familiar in a way the other uncanny circus members don't, it sparks something in him he can't explain and for the first time in over a decade the ringmaster has a name. (Series is ongoing)

Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me - by ghostfrog

A cute ongoing fic where Jon becomes a teacher after Martin singlehandedly stops the apocalypse at the end of S4, and because they're both trying to move on with their lives Jon becomes an English teacher for a local school, where he has a class that are a bit too observant, and maybe just a bit too into cryptids.

There Are Monsters In These Woods - by DoilySpider

Once upon a time there was a prince of a kingdom named blackwood, with a wicked stepfather who wanted him dead. One day the prince asked his stepfather what he could do to claim the crown that they both knew was rightfully his, and the stepfather told him that a king must be brave, and to prove it he must then slay the beast of eyes.

Once upon a time there was a man named Jonathan Sims, a man who sought whatever knowledge and magic it would take to be able to protect those he loved from the monsters that took everything from him; and so he went to see the Mage Magnus, who would only be making him just one more.

Dark Fairytale au? Well that's what you get I suppose when the fandom is based around a horror podcast. All I can say really is that I love the world-building on this one, and the writing, featuring a happily ever after we all know they all deserve and some Jon/Martin/Tim/Gerry Polyamory. (Complete)

A Weather In The Flesh - by cuttooth

An emotionally devastating one shot about touch starvation that may or may not have made me feel a lot of things (One shot)

One of these birds, is not my bird - by updownandsideways

Just a good ol' Not Jon fic, a bit predictable in places but the gist is Jon is taken by the Not Them and Martin's feeling a bit different about Jon since he got back from the Prentiss incident, it's only when he re-reads some of his old poetry that he finds out why. (Complete)

Thresholds (series) - by bubonickitten

At the precipice of finding out he's changing into something inhuman, Elias decides to give Jon a push, with the perfect bit of information to leave him a wreck, and makes him know the story of a young man he remembers all too clearly being taken by dear old Mr. Spider. (Complete)

Chamomile - Dribbledscribbles

Chamomile is a mischievous little creature who finds its delight in seeing how many times they can give the people in this safe house a heart attack. It's attempts on Martin have been successful to a fault, pushing him as far as it can to scare the living daylights out of him before he comes at him with a broom and scuttling away before he can come close. It's a fun game they have, but when they try it on Jon it just doesn't work. It's not fun, because Jon lets it win, Jon names it, Jon gives him cuddles and lets it rest on his shoulder, and this little creature is rather determined not to give up.

Aka a cute fluff fic where Jon and Martin are living in their cottage in Scotland and end up adopting a few of the spookier residents. (Completed)

Go softly - by doomcountry

Martin brings home a jug of bleach, sets it on the counter with an eyedropper for when Jon is ready, and even if both of them know it will hurt, that is has to be done, but no matter what they are going to get through this together.

TW for eye mutilation (Oneshot)

Terror Management Theory - by prismatical

Jonathan sims was eaten by a spider when he was eight, he died, but then he came back. Since then Jon has a very interesting relationship with death, one that terrifies him more than anything else, more than any other fear, and it's going to take a hell of a lot to earn his right to death back. (Completed)

Nature has taught her creatures to hate - thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

Many times Jon has tried to run, sometimes it even worked, sometimes he got barely made it out alive at the end of the day, but it never worked when he was running from the Magnus institute, from James Wright or Elias Bouchard, or from the horrors that have never let him go since he was eight and stupid enough to pick up that damn book. The powers that be had taken him as a child, wrapped him in tight cobwebs of contracts and kidnappings and under a bruising hand on his shoulder that guided him down the path of inhumanity no matter how hard he tried to run. And even now, when he's failed again and facing losing another of a short line of close connections to the curse that is the Magnus institute, he can't back out.

NGL this one is depressing at times, but it kept my eyes glued to the screen it was so thrilling. Featuring a Jon who was chased to the Magnus institute by a book and a boy overflowing with spiders, and then claimed by something even worse, lots of child abuse and Elias being a manipulative bastard. (Ongoing)

Reflection - by LazuliQuetzal

There's something haunting Jonathan sims, something that looks just like him, but different all the same. Something inhuman that he cannot allow himself to trust, no matter what it says or claims to know about him. Something that keeps telling him with every moment they have to stay away from the archives, no matter what.

Meanwhile, Jonathan Sims, the monster and remnant of a ruined world, is rapidly forced to reconcile with living in the past as something no one is able to see or even notice as anything out of the ordinary, not even with the power of the eye behind them, and as fun as getting some small sense gratification from being petty and messing with Jonah as much as he can, the only person he can really talk to is quite literally himself.

And he's a fucking idiot.

This fic is great if you just want a little giggle and some catharsis. Pending alternate title is currently tied between "Two Jons in an archive, what will he do?" and "Jon would be the first person to tell you that he is absolutely insufferable". (complete)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea - by The_Floating_World

Jon has always had a fascination with things vastly incomprehensible, staring out from a dock out at the ocean and marveling at the infinity of everything before him. How the sky can be perfectly reflected in the ocean, how everything is endless and so vast in such a beautiful way, and I need not tell you that fears have never been loved in the way Jon loves infinity. After a probably not so chance encounter with Simon Fairchild, Jonathan Sims begins his slow evolution to becoming as an avatar of the vast, but he's different in a way the others aren't. Asking questions with no answer and living on that threshold between the vast and unknowable and madness in a way the other's haven't seen before, and by virtue of his own strangeness, even in the face of the other avatars, he is known as the philosopher, a man who isn't a man that seems content to hide just how powerful he really is.

At least until he makes some friends of his own and they come under threat. (Complete)

Starving Gods - by sevansa

Jon is in a really, really bad place when he decides to go through with it, knowing with a certainty his future doesn't have that if he were to follow in the footsteps of Eric Delano, he wasn't going to allow himself the luxury of a chance to back out, not with so many victims at stake.

Needless to say the shock of finding Jon in his office like that, unconscious and mutilated is something none of them will ever forget.

TW eye mutilation but you already knew that, first fic i the series is complete, but the sequel is still ongoing.

The Unknown Watcher - by authureameslove

Martin knows the rules as well as anyone else. You do not stay out past dark, not for anything, lest you fall prey to monsters and madness more potent than any ghost story or relentless creature cooked up by gods bigger than anyone could have imagined. So on a dark night, chased by monsters a plenty and his own stupid decision to chance it Martin Blackwood stumbles upon an estate filled with its own monstrosities. Two killers stalking the woods that weren't there before, a stranger in the night, two who cannot leave lest they be unmade with wooden splinters where there should be skin, and a man with two glowing green eyes and a face that no one can see. Each with their own stories to tell, each bound to this place by powers out of their control and choices they have made and each playing their own part in the end of both themselves and the world.

And of all things, they seem to think that Martin just might be the only one who can save them.

Inspired loosely on Beauty and the Beast with its own unique and captivating TMA Spin, this fic had be glued to my seat in anticipation, and I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys tales of vengeance, Jmartin and that classic ghost story style mystery. (Complete)

Déjà Vu - CirrusGrey

What do you even do with yourself when you are given a second chance? What does it mean to truly feel your death, being unmade or destroyed or unwound or stabbed through the heart by the man you love, and waking up alone long before you would have come to know any of it. Remembering everything, every pain, every choice that led to it and everything that you can't bring yourself to believe hasn't happened yet, and to do so all alone?

Sasha James was unmade, Tim Stoker was destroyed, Martin was unwound, and Jon was stabbed through the heart by his love. They all woke up alone on a day long before even the thought of Prentiss would touch them, and they all think they're the only one.

The Watcher's Bargain - arthureameslove

Fae au says what?

Martin hadn't known freedom since he was a child, when the witch Mary Blackwood took him in and bound him with silver threads and promises. So when she lays sick and dying in their house he makes a bargain with her. The Death's book of names and her life in return for his freedom. He should have known stealing from the Fae would have consequences beyond death, should have known the witch would have been vindictive enough to only allow him to leave her if it meant trading one prison for another, and this time, surrounded by the high court of the Panopticon, with Fae and tortured humans in chains, bound to one who speaks in half-truths and secrets, hope has never been so far from his eyes.

At least that is, until the fae proposes a bargain of his own. (Ongoing)

This Lonely Knight - arthureameslove

Martin doesn't remember why or how he came to join the knights of the Lonely, nor does he remember any of a life before that point. Like the many other heartless knights he cast away his memories and the pain they carried with them with his choice and that was just the way it was. It's not until he's sent to escort a strange man from the beholding to be the Watcher's betrothed that he begins to find what he'd been missing, what being of the Lonely had kept him from, and more importantly that he can't go through with his suicidal mission to see the death of his charge.

Honestly, this is classic fairytale knight and royal in an arranged marriage romance but with another perfect Magnus Archives twist from arthureameslove. (Complete)

What Belongs to the Sea - TwoDrunkenCelestials, WhyNotFly

When Jon first meets Elias he's dry as a bone and still smelling of thick salt with wild hair, knocking on his door with fury in his eyes and blood roaring in his veins as he demands back his stolen skin. For all his grandmother's warnings though, he still ends up in a gilded cage of his own making. Soon Jon, against his better judgement and consent is swept up into the path of the unblinking, newlywed and bound by powerful magic and paraded around in ceremony and unfeeling shows of affection and control. It's only after an admittedly prickly encounter with Martin, that he begins to hope.

TW there is abuse here, and alot of iron burns (Complete)

The Path of Least Resistance - chermit

Martin, Sasha and Tim go into what they think will be a normal day of work in 2016, and it is anything but. They arrive to find a crime scene, swamped with police officers there to inform them plainly that everyone in the institute is dead, except for them. Elias in his office clutching his head as if in pain, Jon shot three times in the chest with an empty look in his eyes and the rest of them from apparent cardiac arrest. Needless to say they want answers, they want justice, and if it means involving themselves in a world of monsters and fear a mysterious someone had tried so hard to keep them safe from, then so be it. (Ongoing)

The Sweetest Thing - JoyHeart

Martin has always been warned away from humans, his mother took great pains to plant that fear firmly within long before she and all of Selkie kind seemed to turn their backs on him. It isn't until he's rescued from some particularly nasty flesh worms by the Magnus Institute for Oceanic Research and Rescue that he finds an alternate perspective. Unfortunately, even if he doesn't yield his form, Martin's about to find that humans have more than one way of keeping a selkie under their grasp, even if completely unintentionally.

A martin selkie au that had me cackling, in suspense and squealing with just the right amount of fluff (for my tastes at least) featuring Marine Biologist Jon who's just as insufferable when it comes to his skepticism as he is incredibly sweet. (complete)

Heavy angst and whump warning for the sequel (which is ongoing)

A deeply annoying child - ajkal2

A oneshot (that I will defend until my dying breath) where Jon reads a Leitner that turns him into his 8 year old self right after his encounter with Mr Spider and Tim is there to help him pick of the pieces. (Oneshot)

Antigonish - softlyblue

Martin inherits an the Blackwood house from a woman he's never heard of sharing his last name and very quickly finds it inhabited by something trying to kill him, something that is not the four friendlier ghosts that inhabit the place, and something that goes a hell of a lot deeper than cold spots and whispers in the night. It's not so much a choice then to call in the cavalry when a portion of the very well-built roof tries to crush him for the third time in a row, so he sends a reluctant email to three ghost hunters under Basira's recommendation, with one of which being a man reportedly most adept of seeing and reaching out to things that are not there. (Complete)

The Reverb in These Holy Halls - Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

After a distinctly unwell day at work Jonathan Sims comes to awareness and marches in to the archives without so much as a word and declares himself to Elias and Martin both as the new head archivist. A lot of people are confused by this, a lot of people suspect Jon of murdering Gertrude and a lot of people want to know what the hell is going on with him. With a bargain made, and an eye and a Spider in his heart Jonathan Sims is going to save the world, and this time he's going to do it right.

Very generic premise of a Timetravel TMA fix it but it comes with some added flavor thanks to some clever writing from the author/s.

Two Graves - SupposedToBeWriting

In saving the world singlehandedly Jonathan Sims honestly thought he was going to die, so it was more than a surprise when he didn't, and even more than his plan actually worked. Now, with nothing but the remnants of fear and a broken heart he flees London, along with everything and everyone to do with the Magnus institute, but quickly finds himself a new purpose with a garden and connection to some avatars who need some help finding themselves after their patron's disappearance.

And then his world shatters when Martin and Basira finally manage to track him down.

This one got me through a particularly rough patch, a fic about reconciliation after the end of the world was... well, ended, and about reconnecting and forgiving the ones you love. TW for some implied sucidal thoughts and ideation. (completed)

The Archivist and the Adventurer (series) - paperdream

There are few things for a human that is worse than to be considered lovely by the Fae, and that is a lesson Jon, like so many things, had to learn the hard way. Ensnared by the wild hunt and bound to the high fae Elias and forcibly changed by the Mother of Spiders, all Jon has left to hold on to is his name, spending his days confined to the Archives to serve and be subject to the whims of the fae, whatever they may be. At least that is, until he finds his solace in helping an adventurer escape the cruelty of the fae unscathed, no matter how foolish he may be. (Ongoing)

Auspex (Series) - faridsgwi

(Victorian AU) The year is 1841, and Jonah Magnus is ready to begin building his archive in London. Now it's just a manner of going to the workhouse to find a child that won't be missed to serve as his repository.

Highly recommended au for you guys, as of now it's still ongoing but my god is it keeping my rapt attention in hopes for updates to the series. Featuring our good old Victorian asshole and resident child abuser Jonah Magnus, as he builds up his new archive and apprentice Jonathan Sims in preparation for his uses. Assistants will be traumatized, friends will be made along the way, and as always remember the apocalypse is always much closer than you think. (Ongoing)

The Kindness of Strangers - theOestofOCs

What's that saying? That Hindsight is 20/20? After a rather delicately arranged meeting in eye neutral terf (read as not in the institute) on Tim's request, Jon is finally able to get the chance to really talk to Tim since… well everything. So when the two find themselves snagged by Breekon and Hope and handed over to Nikola Orsinov, let's just say Tim being in the wrong place at the wrong time was the least of their worries.

Content warning for disassociation, forced nudity and non-consensual touching (not sexual), this one is heavy on the angst, but if you, like me, really wanted Jon and Tim to get the chance to actually reconcile before the unknowing, and love seeing Tim's protective older brother side, then this is the fic for you. (Completed)

Stag Story - With_the_Wolves

Stag's are notoriously hard to capture in the wild, using magic to flee and disappear before any bullet comes close to touching them. As a results hunts are often drawn out and tedious in search of trophies, and notoriously difficult to pull of successfully, at least until one of the most respected of the Hunter's alliance, Elias, comes up with something of a solution.

A solution he keeps under lock and key and threat of iron burns and torture should he disobey. His precious bait stag, cowed and shaped to his will, and he's going to use him to finally kill the Beast of the Northern Forest. (Oneshot)

The Fates Design - theOestofOCs

Kept hidden, starving and without any memory of a time before Elias saved him, the Archive had resigned himself to a life under his care and in his service. He was the Archive after all, a danger to himself and the world, this was what he was for.

So when a thief climbs in through the window of his tower, and gives him a story to ease the pain of hunger and asks him to come with him, at least until Elias's return, he accepts. The want for the pain to end winning out over the safety of his tower and unfortunately, the knowledge that this is where he should be for the safety of the realm.

And then he meets a ginger haired man he couldn't be sure he'd only ever seen in his dreams, and things change.

Alternately titled by the author as the Tmagled au (which I absolutely love), this one puts a really intriguing TMA twist on the classic Rapunzel set up, with some added mystery that had me desperate for more.

As it stands it is still ongoing, and pretty new, but as of posting this has actually been updated fairly recently.

The Lives We've Shared - The OestofOCs

Jon finds something he shouldn't have, something someone took great lengths to keep hidden, and something Elias Bouchard doesn't want him listening to. A tape from Gertrude, hidden below a loose floorboard in his office, speaking with certainty of death and leaving a warning for her successor.

Needless to say Elias will do anything to make sure a secret like that doesn't come to light, so after a short flick of a blade across his throat, all he needs to do is clean up as much of the blood from the office as he can and start again with one of his assistants.

What no one accounted for though, was Jon coming back.

Completed fic where Jon dies and comes back as a ghost, with the single goal to protect his people as much as he can from Elias and others like him.

Fold, Fallow and Plough - theOestofOCs

Jon is a marine conservationist researcher, so when he sees the net squirming and rolling on the beach with something impossible inside, he does what he always has and cuts it free, regardless of any praise or recognition he might have gotten from the discovery.

So when the head of the Magnus institute of Marine discovery arrives moments later, fuming and demanding to know what happened to his catch, Jon certainly isn't going to apologize for doing the right thing. No matter what earning the man's ire might bring upon himself.

He just… he didn't expect this.

Have I mentioned I'm a big fan of Mermaid Body Horror? TW for abuse, non-consensual body modification and a lot of whump, featuring Mer Tim, Danny and Sasha as they try to walk their unexpected charge through a new life under the waves, as others above continue to search for the missing researcher. (Ongoing)

Darkling I listen (half in love) - theOestofOCs

Jon had never had a good feeling about their newest client Jonah Magnus, but it's not until he sees him one night crawling down the side of his castle with spiderlike grace that he truly comes to realize he's not human, and Martin needs to survive this. So, throwing caution to the wind and what he knows has to be all sense with it, he makes a deal with Magnus. Martin will be sent back to London under the guise that Jon will be continuing their work here, and Jon's life is forfeit.

But Magnus has far greater plans for his new pet, and no intention of letting him go that easily.

If you're me and you've read the original Dracula by Bram Stoker this is one hell of a treat. Just the right amount of TMA and Dracula plot points with some very well written body horror as Jonathan finds himself slowly turning into a creature of the night. (Ongoing)

The Archivist's Moving Castle - Hallali

In a world full of magic and monsters a plenty, Martin's life on its own has thus far been profoundly uninteresting. But dreaming of adventure in the hills was never a way to stay safe, and Martin has always been quietly content, if a fair bit lonely, tending to the town's library under the employ of one Peter Lukas. At least, that is, until a strange man full of magic of his own seeks his sanctuary and promises to help him escape, a hope Martin can at least hold onto for now even as his world twists beyond the limits of what he thought possible and he is cursed and forced to flee before Jon could even have the chance to return. Which is all well and good he could suppose, he needed to get out anyway, he just wished there were less monsters trying to kill him involved. (Ongoing)

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