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fang-and-feather · 7 months

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Ikemen Vampire - Comte x Reader x Leonardo

Visions of Temptation, Day 5 Prompt: Spit-Roasting

Challenge hosted by @xxsycamore

This is not the fic I was planning to post for Comte's birthday, it's not an actual birthday fic, but I'm far from finishing the birthday one, while I had this one almost finished, so why not post it today...

It feels kind of strange to use Comte's name in narration rather than just dialog. Also funny how, sometimes, you write a prompt based fic and the actual prompt is one of the smaller parts of it

Kinktober Masterlist / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to put yourself at the mercy of two purebloods, both very competitive despite sharing your love. They had agreed to try at least once, though, and you would take advantage of this rare treat. You had talked about it, and you knew what you were getting into. Each of them could be quite overwhelming by himself, but you thought you could handle both of them at once.

It was funny to think your bed was the most spacious you found for this. That the luxury usually associated with Abel did not extend to his bed, something you had noticed but never made itself so apparent. But at least there was a space for the three of us to have some fun together, and it was the best place for you, who probably wouldn’t be walking much the next day.

You had barely settled into your room, and they were already fighting for your attention. You were pulled onto Abel’s lap on the bed, with him kissing and sucking on your neck while unbuttoning your shirt.

“Are you still sure about this, ma chérie? You know we’re not good at sharing or holding back when we’re more possessive. I can’t promise we’ll be gentle with you.”

Even as he said that, he took his time undressing you, fingers only ghosting over your skin as he slowly left light marks over your neck and shoulders.

“I trust you.” And if you were to be completely honest, you looked forward to it. To find yourself sandwiched between these two powerful men you loved so much and be completely ravaged by them.

Leonardo sat by your side on the bed, and a hand on your chin brought your attention to him.

“You’re such a naughty girl, cara mia. Challenging us like this.” He must have noticed your unspoken desire to make such a comment, which made you a little embarrassed. You opened your mouth to reply, only to be silenced by an overwhelming kiss.

There was nothing gentle about the way Leonardo approached you. He practically devoured you, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he were starving and you were his favorite meal. You tried to kiss back with equal enthusiasm.

As soon as your shirt was out of the way, Leonardo unhooked your bra, only for Abel to cup your breasts, squeezing lightly, his kisses becoming loving bites, fangs barely touching your skin, but enough to give you that thrill of anticipation. You moaned into Leonardo’s kiss, clinging to him, and he threaded his fingers through your hair. You were starting to feel dizzy, and Leonardo barely let you catch a breath between kisses.

Still you tried to focus and started to unbutton his shirt, but you only fumbled with the buttons, too distracted by the hands toying with your nipples and the teeth nibbling at your ear now, Leonardo’s dazing kisses and his hand, now slipping under your skirt, nails lightly raking their path up.

You squirm and moan, torn between seeking more and trying to get away from the pleasure. But there was no getting away, and none of them seemed to have any intention of taking you yet, despite how hard Abel was getting under you, and the way his breath hitched when your squirming had you rubbing against him.

“So restless. Do you want us to stop, cara mia?”

All that came out of you was a louder moan as Leonardo rubbed you over your underwear, so you shook your head in response. It was a little too much, but you knew it would, and it’s not in a bad way. To have both your lovers’ attention on you made both your heart and body so full in the best way.

“Do you need some help?”

Leonardo didn’t wait for a new answer before your underwear was pushed aside and a finger was rubbing directly against your entrance.

The finger quickly slips inside, slowly fucking you, and that makes the pressure building within you worse. Leonardo only looks at you with a slight teasing smile, but, through your hazy mind, you notice that sometimes his gaze shifts somewhere else.

Despite you having gone still, Abel groans behind you, snuggling against your back and muffling these noises against your skin. His hands also stilled, and he only held you tighter. And with a little less stimulation, you notice that the way that Leonardo fingers you had the back of his hand rubbing over the erection under you, and he knew very well what he was doing.

“Leonardo…” Abel growled from behind you, “This is not the night to provoke me.”

“I’m just helping our principessa, since you seem intent on teasing her. Is this kind of accidental touch enough to set you off, amico mio?”

You had no idea what Leonardo considered helping, because a single finger at such a slow pace was more frustrating than helpful. Enough to warm you up, but not for anything else. And this exchange between them, that you had no idea if they were trying to fight or flirt, but, as hot as you found it, their attention was straying, and you were already too impatient.

“You two can fuck later, but one of you better take me now. Or do I need to do it myself?”

Leonardo chuckled, grinning at you. He was totally doing it on purpose, and you had fallen into his trap.

“Such a greedy girl. Is this how Leonardo’s been teaching you, chérie?”

“Don’t act like you’re all that innocent, either. As for you, tesoro, how can we resist when you’re begging us so sweetly?”

The remaining clothes were shed with a certain rush, but still between heated kisses and enticing touches, but no more teasing. At least not directly, but they still fought for your attention.

As soon as your own clothes were out of the way, you positioned yourself on your hands and knees on the bed, in a silent invitation for your lovers. You were aching for them so much, but asking again would be embarrassing. Although the way they stared at you wasn’t much better.

“Look at you, darling. So ready for us.” Abel spoke, caressing up your thigh, then squeezing one of your ass cheeks.

“You’re so sexy when you’re forward like this, amore.” Leonardo joined him at your side, his hand trailing up your back, making you arched into his touch.

You felt Abel slide behind you, two fingers pushing into you, and your body automatically reacted, thrusting back against him.

“Who said you could have her first?” Leonardo asked.

“I was the one who gave up my turn for this today. Besides, I didn’t hear her complain.” You were sure Abel was smirking back at his friend.

“No one asked you to do that. Besides, you never asked her.”

“Boys, don’t fight. You can take turns. Now come here, Leo.” Leaning on one arm, you reached out to pull him closer. “I’ll make this worth your time, too.”

Leonardo gave in, kneeling before you.

“Turns? You’re very brave today, aren’t you? Let’s see how much you can handle, then.”

Your only response was licking the cock before you slowly, from base to head, kissing the tip, then licking it as well, making him shudder. You loved to be able to see or hear your boyfriends’ reactions and the effect you had on them.

You whined when the fingers were removed from you, but Abel’s thicker cock quickly replaced them, and you let Leonardo’s slip into your mouth at the same time.

Being filled on both sides was as delicious and overwhelming as you expected. Abel fucked you slow and deep as you tried to suck Leonardo off, but each thrust pushed him further in your mouth, occasionally hitting the back of your throat, making you gag, but it surprisingly only added to your pleasure.

As you got used to the position, Abel’s thrusts sped up, and Leonardo’s hands started to roam your body again, both of them offering words of praise and encouragement almost constantly.

Soon you could barely think, mind clouded with so much pleasure like you never felt before. You were thankful your moans were muffled by the cock in your mouth, because you doubted you could keep the noise to a discreet level.

You gave up trying to be more active towards them and let your boyfriends use you as they saw fit, letting yourself drown in the pleasure they gave you. And your reward was the most explosive orgasm you had ever felt, washing over you like a wave in a stormy sea, your mind going completely blank then, your whole body clenching. You almost choked on Leonardo before he managed to pull away to give you room to breathe, and you tightening around Abel made him moan your name.

You were only partly aware of the way he gripped your hips tighter, or that his thrusts became faster, more desperate, only coming around in time to feel him filling you. But he didn’t pull away, still holding your hips flush against his and whispering sweet praise to you.

“You still okay, cara mia?” Leonardo asked, caressing your hair. Willing your tired body to react, you only sucked him in response, giving him a playful look. “Good girl.”

With a hand on the back of your head, he started slowly fucking your mouth.

Still not pulling out of you, Abel started rubbing your clit, stimulating you towards another orgasm.

Neither of you lasted long after that, Leonardo pushing himself deep in your mouth and holding you still, his warm cum filling your throat, just before you came for the second time yourself.

Both of them finally released you, your body collapsing on the bed as your tired limbs gave out.

“Tired already, chérie?” Comte laid by your side.

“Where’s that confidence from earlier?” Leonardo joined you on the other side.

You rolled to lie on your back and looked at one of them, then the other, giving both a playful smile.

“Oh, I’m not that tired. I just need a moment. I promised you another round, didn’t I?” You leaned to your aide, kissing one, then the other. “We still have time for a lot of fun.”

Tag List: @tele86

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Kinktober Masterlist / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#visions of temptation 2023 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp #ikevamp smut #ikevamp fanfic #fanfiction #ot3: leonardo x reader x comte #polyamory

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

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Flufftober Day 23 | A beautiful collection

Pairing | Boyfriend!Ari Levinson x Girlfriend!Female!Reader

Word count | ~ 840 words

Summary | Every time you and Ari visit a new place together during a vacation, you two search for the silliest magnet to add to your growing collection. Usually, you're the one who bring them home, but this time, Ari has found a rather special one that you want to keep forever.

Warning(s) | None.

Prompt(s) | 23. Trinket | @flufftober

A/n | This one shot is written for day 23 of my Flufftober 2023 Challenge. I'm a huge fan of collecting silly magnets, so this is a nice and self-indulgent fic for once! I hope you will enjoy it just as much as I did when writing it 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @cafekitsune | GIF credit to the owner

Main Masterlist | Ari Levinson Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

You have loved collecting magnets ever since you could walk, and you always find the silliest, most special ones in every city and country you visit.

Your fridge is nearly filled with magnets from all over the world, either collected by yourself or with your boyfriend, Ari. Since you two started dating a little over four years ago, your collection has grown exponentially, and today, you will add one more: a special one, this time.

''Peach? Can you c'mere for a second?'' Ari says as he emerges from the kitchen and wanders into the living room. He sits in the big armchair he usually occupies, and you come to straddle his thick, broad thighs that you love so much.

''What's up, Buttercup?'' you say in a cheery voice, and Ari can't fight back the grin on his face as he shakes his head.

'''S a good thing I love you,'' he murmurs before mentioning what he wanted to tell you.

''I have something for you, Peach. And I want you to bring it with you on our upcoming vacation,'' he says as he grabs a small, square box from the table beside the chair, giving it to you.

''Can I open it now, or do I have to wait until we're there?'' you ask him, your curiosity already taking over. He nods, and you open the box, pulling out a magnet of the opera house in Syndey, Australia.

''Did you plan this trip without me, Ari?'' you say with a slight pout, which he swiftly kisses away. He wants this vacation to be memorable, and he has his reasons for doing it this way.

''I did, but I have my reasons for it. I won't tell them to you now, because you will find out when we're there. Before we do, you can get your nails and hair done and buy a brand-new outfit for dinner. You can do all that with my card because I want to treat my girl this time,'' he says, and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline.

''A-Are you sure? That will be expensive on top of the vacation...'' you say as your voice lowers slightly in volume. Growing up, you've never had much money, so you're still not quite used to letting Ari spoil you like this occasionally.

''I'm sure, Peach. You deserve to be treated like the Queen you are,'' he says, and you put the magnet to the side before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss.

The week before your vacation, you get your hair done and your nails painted in a purple design. That same day, you also pick out a black and white maxi dress and white gladiator sandals to finish the look.

A week later, you find yourself in a beautiful restaurant looking out over the Opera House, the magnet sitting securely in the bag you brought.

You are in your white outfit, and Ari is also decked out in a light outfit. This vacation was nothing short of perfect the last few days, but this night will change everything.

You didn't pick out a white dress for nothing; you had a hunch of what would happen tonight. You wanted to give him a taste of what it would look like. You dressed in white, and when you showed Ari the dress earlier this evening, you didn't miss the little sparkle in his eyes.

It was almost time to order dessert, but before you could pick up the menu that displayed all the delicious, decadent desserts, Ari cleared his throat slightly, his hand stretched out so you could lay yours in his.

''Peach, I knew you were special from the moment I met you. You're kind, you're funny, you're beautiful. You're everything I've ever wanted in a partner and more. I love spending time with you and can't imagine my life without you. I promise to make you laugh, always be there for you when you need me, and never take you for granted. I promise to love and cherish you for the rest of our lives.''

As he's telling you all this, you know your hunch was correct, and when Ari stands up while motioning you to get up as well, you can't help but let a little sniffle escape.

''You are the most special person in my life, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" he asks, popping open a small black velvet box with a silver engagement ring.

''Oh my god, Ari! Yeah, yes, I'll marry you!'' you exclaim, and Ari stands to his full height before putting the ring on your finger and kissing you passionately.

People around you applaud, and as soon as you two finally let go of one another, you hear congratulations from all over the restaurant.

Suddenly, the magnet Ari bought you made sense. It was a clue; from now on, it would be the perfect addition to your beautiful collection of fridge magnets.

#flufftober 2023 #day 23 #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fluff #ari #ari one shot #ari imagine #ari fanfiction #ari fanfic #ari x female reader #ari x reader #ari fluff

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detachedminxsfics · 1 year

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Spit Pt. V

Masterlist

Characters: Negan x Alexandrian F!Reader, Maggie, Gabriel, Aaron, Daryl, Hershel, The Commonwealth

Summary: You couldn't wait around any longer, knowing it could be days before Maggie and the group would return. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, but Negan was too. Set in the events of S11 E17.

Word count: 5.5K+

Warnings: NSFW - Vaginal sex, groping, fingering, bruising, public sex, dom negan, mortal enemies, xtra DILFy S11 Negan, a continuum of the filthiest shit I've ever written tbh

A/N: Finally stopped procrastinating and managed to finish this, even though I'm not totally satisfied with the outcome. I watched the TWD finale yesterday, and I'm still heartbroken, but it also gave me massive inspo to write for this fic. I'm excited to write the next few parts, and get ready for some power duo action in the next one. 😉

In the morning you woke alone, the ground beside you empty and cold with the implication that he had left you at least an hour or two ago. It was understandable, given the secrecy of your arrangement, but it didn't stop you from feeling so isolated when you realised that you were by yourself. God, did you miss him already? You shook your head free of the idea that you could possibly be that attached to Negan and leaned up, pressing your back up against the wall. You took a moment just to allow yourself to somewhat fully wake, blinking the haze of sleep from your eyes to stand to your feet and make your way over to Hershel. He was sitting upright with knees bent towards his chest, and for better or worse, the kid looked well-rested. You knelt on the ground to be at eye level with him, and he stared back at you.

"Hey kiddo, how you doing?"

He smiled a little, a look of relief that he at least knew somebody here. Especially you, his favourite auntie.

"I'm okay. I'm a little hungry, and I miss mom."

Your eyes lowered to the ground briefly thinking of Maggie and the others. She could handle herself, and she was determined as hell, so you knew she'd be just fine. Nevertheless, you wished you could see that for yourself.

"I miss her too, but she'll be back soon. I promise."

You extended your hand to fold every finger but the smallest one against your palm, offering him a pinky promise on the basis that Maggie would return. His hand reached out and he curled his much smaller pinky around yours, completing your childish way of a promise. After all, through the chaos and devastation of the world, there was one thing Hershel still was, a kid. He was a lone child standing just outside the boundaries of a community war, and all he wanted was his mom. You pulled your hand back and let out a small sigh, there was something in the air today, and the day had barely begun.

"Well, I'm gonna go back to my spot. You need anything you know where I am, okay?"

Hershel gave you an understanding nod which prompted you to stand to your feet and return to your area. When you sat back down, your back slumped against the rock, your mind began to run wild with scenario after scenario. Your paranoia had gotten the better of you, and the same way you had reassured Hershel that Maggie is safe seemed to be not so easily redirected towards yourself. After a few minutes of torturing yourself with the most catastrophic outcomes avoiding it was hopeless, you were indefinitely restless. Your people were out there, your family out there fighting without you. It was killing you, the lack of productivity from just sitting on your ass and waiting for someone else to fight your battles for you. The truth was, how long would this go on for? It could take days for the group to return, taking down Hornsby was no easy task. The commonwealth was not to be trifled with, and yet we were antagonising them alright, like poking a bear with a stick. You couldn't take it any longer, and you needed space. A breath of fresh air rather than the dirt you were buried beneath. With considerable haste you hurried to the ladder and made your way up, standing to your feet once you'd clambered to the top. It was quieter up here besides the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees, and if you were lucky, the chirp of a bird. The nature of your surroundings gave you a moment to think, but the sound of a familiar voice rudely interrupted your train of thought.

"You too, huh?" Negan pressed, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant his back against a nearby tree.

To say your peace was now disturbed would be an understatement.

"What are you talking about?" You replied, and the slight raise of his brows patronised you for thinking so little of his ability to read you like an open book.

"You want to help the others. I can see it in your eyes, and the way you're fidgeting. Hell, I'm thinking about it too."

The idea of Negan possessing a similar care or desire to assist the others in the fight against Hornsby intrigued you. You took slow, small steps towards him, speaking low and with caution. You didn't want any of the others to overhear the possibility of your departure, but most importantly, Hershel. The thought of leaving him alone here with these people wasn't ideal, but if either of you were to leave the other would surely follow, which left Hershel alone no matter what you two would decide.

"I can't wait around like this, I feel like I'm losing my mind. If you're serious, we can leave right now. It may take a few hours to track down the others, but we could do this." You spoke so quickly, the impatience evident within your tone.

Fortunately, Negan was one of the few assholes you knew who would be crazy enough to always follow you into a fight, and for the most part, he had your back too. It was a little too perfect, your motives only feeding one another's as his eyes seemed to glint with a response before he vocalised it.

"You know I'm down. I meant what I said, every word. I've got her back, and I've got yours." His gaze seemed to soften towards the end of his vow to help, and your collective agreement to depart was made unspoken.

"I'll go talk with Hershel, just stay here."

As you turned around to make your way back towards the open hatch the sight of Hershel climbing the ladder startled you, and you found yourself wishing he didn't hear a single word of what you and Negan just said. Judging by the blank expression on his face he was blissfully unaware, and you repressed the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Ah, just the munchkin I was looking for." You announced playfully, your usual sillier and softer side taking over when it came to how you interacted with kids.

Hershel finally made his way to the top and turned to look at you. As much as you loved Hershel you were wary of your choice of words. He was a smart kid, too smart for his own good, and a singular slip-up about anything to do with you and Negan would surely get back to Maggie. You lowered to the ground, crouching to be eye level with him in the way that Maggie usually would when she needed to explain to him that she was leaving.

"I know you're not gonna like this, but I have to go help your mom. I need to help the others, and you have to stay here. They'll look after you, I'm sure of it."

Hershel's eyes flickered with uncertainty, and he looked over your shoulder, right at Negan.

"With him?" It seemed more like a curiosity than an interrogation, but you could never be too careful.

Thanks to Negan spending a moment too long with Hershel back at Riverbend the kind of man that he was, the man who delivered his father's untimely fate, was revealed to him. You'd all tried to keep it from him, but he was too good at recognising people and their true intentions. It was a blessing and a curse, a trait he no doubt had passed down to him by Maggie herself.

"Yes. Negan wants to help your mom too, just like I do. So you need to promise to stay here and to stay close to them. They're good people, Hershel."

For a child, he was rather fearless, often brave, and frightened of very little. He understood your reasoning, and your desire to assist the others. Reluctantly he nodded his head, and you wrapped your arms around him for a long hug. After the tender moment you pulled back, standing straight and smiling wide.

"I'll see you soon, now go on."

You gestured back to the makeshift hatch with a tilt of your head, and he made his way back down. It was now that he was out of earshot that you realised just how tense you were, just how unsettled the idea of screwing up and revealing the two of your's apparent difference in feelings towards one another made you. You'd gone from wanting to murder him to despising him, a stark contrast between the two. Amidst your pensive state you'd barely acknowledged Negan's sudden approach, his warm breath fanning against the nape of your neck as he placed his hands on your hips, lightly gripping them. Thankfully, having your back to him allowed the humbling sight of you biting down on your lip to stifle your shaky breaths to remain unknown, and you composed yourself as he whispered into your ear.

"Your real tense when you talk about me, baby. Is there something that you need?" The confidence in his tone had you rolling your eyes, and you reached down to close your hands around his wrists and rip them from your body, bruising his supposed ego.

"Fuck off, Negan. You coming or not?"

You turned and began to walk in the direction you watched the group head yesterday morning, and Negan's drawled and throaty chuckle in response to your fiery attitude had you dreading the journey already. Walking alongside you Negan would glance over every now and then, and you'd catch him staring you over in your peripheral, then he'd return to looking straight ahead. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"You're real good with kids y'know, almost like you got one of your own." His suggestion earned a look of surprise etched across your features, and you parted your lips to speak.

"Really? That's funny, I absolutely hated those little shits before all of this."

Your brusque honesty earned a chuckle from Negan and a partially suppressed giggle from you.

"God, amen to that. I was a damn high school gym teacher before all of this."

You couldn't help but completely halt your movement, your eyes slowly meeting Negan's. Your sudden stop had him engrossed in what shocked you so much to the point of total pause, and a sickening smile spread across your face, like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You were...a gym teacher?"

The laughter that spewed from your mouth was so abrupt, so unrestrained, and the visuals only worsened the span of your giggles. To think that the once ruthless leader who dominated several communities and punished people with branding from a hot iron was barking orders at scrawny little kids who would rather do anything other than exercise, was priceless. You felt as though you'd been armed with far more ammo to insult him than you knew what to do with, and he just stared at you, bewildered by your reaction. It only made it that much funnier.

"I am never ever letting that go, it's just too good." You forced your words between your laughter, managing to compose yourself just enough to continue walking forward.

Negan took a little longer than you to begin walking again, surely somewhat offended by your reaction to his previous profession.

"So what happened with your job, y'know in the early days? Did you see the kids you taught?" You levelled your tone with a more earnest curiosity, approaching a profound peer into his pre-apocalypse life that you feared may be as sensitive a topic as you thought.

The slight smile that tugged at his lips instead stupefied you, a soft one in which you could tell he was reliving something of great importance to him.

"No, I uh, I got fired a little before the shit hit the fan. But it was worth it. I ended up wailing on this obnoxious asshole that disrespected my wife at a bar one time, and he just so happened to be the father of one of the kids that went to the school I worked at. It was one hell of a coincidence, and they dropped me."

You glanced over at him wistfully, the love he held for his past wife becoming increasingly apparent, and the protective way in which he spoke of her. It was sweet.

"I never took you for the romantic type."

Your eyes were still locked with his, even as his began to inappropriately wander. From your eyes to your slightly parted lips, your bare neck, catching himself just before his gaze reached your breasts. You feigned oblivion to his pointedly palpable stare, not giving him the reaction he may have wanted.

"Oh? Was fucking each other in a house just before all your friends arrived and in a shack in the woods not romantic enough for you? Because I'd say that's pretty damn romantic." His mock of the rather vulgar moments the two of you had shared with one another had you scoffing.

"I'm talking about with your wife, you asshole. I don't expect you to bring me flowers and tell me I look beautiful, we're not in love." The mere verbalisation of that four letter word sent a chill down your spine, and Negan's subsequent cocky grin did little to ease your apprehension.

"Could be, if you wanted." He uttered his words with such nonchalance, the heavy words finally processing as you stopped immediately, again.

Even subconsciously your fists clenched at your sides, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to find your sanity, an ounce of composure. The boil of your blood from his casual impertinence of implying that the two of you could love one another, could put all history behind you, it was just plain insulting. You heard his footsteps come to a slow stop just beside you, the crunching of leaves falling silent as he stood in place, only rustling again once he shifted his weight to move closer to you.

"Don't say things like that to me, Negan. Just, don't."

Fortunately, you'd been able to somewhat alleviate your rage, your focus shifting to the sound of his breathing as he mulled over what was best to say to you.

"Look at me." It was a simple enough request, but not for you.

You feared that looking at him may pervert your mind again, might result in something similar to what had happened all the times before. Reluctantly, you opened them. He was standing directly in front of you, his hands slowly creeping towards yours, and your silence only permitting him further. His fingers wrapped around your hands to clutch your palms, his thumbs subconsciously smoothing over the backs of your hands like a peace offering.

"Do you trust me?"

That was a loaded question.

"Depends what with." Your blunt response served as the only fair answer to such a broad question, and he lowered his eyes briefly.

All you felt was the feel of his lips pressed against yours, and the way your hands immediately pried from his grip to wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him in. Whilst you exchanged air and spit into one another's mouths all you could think about was how good he felt, and how he tasted like home. Home to your soul, your mind, and your body. It was gut-wrenching, but so divinely intoxicating. His hands caressed the curvature of your body before decidedly settling on your hips, digging his fingers into your skin. The bruising grip made you whimper into his mouth, and you managed to spare a moment to part your lips from his eager mouth to whisper your pleas.

"Please." You beckoned simply, and Negan looked at you with teasingly furrowed brows.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you need."

The teeth you dug into your bottom lip stifled the oncoming urge to whine from impatience alone, your thighs already clenching together just to create some sort of pressure and satiate some of the need for him.

"Fuck me like you love me."

He used his bruising grip on your hips to drive you into the tree behind you, backing you up against it until you felt the harsh texture of wood grind against the back of his blue shirt you still wore. He removed one hand from your hips to weave his fingers into your hair and grip, tilting your head to the side and forcing you to bare your neck to him. His mouth began roughly sucking marks into your tender skin, and his fingers sifted through your strands a few times before slipping out from your hair and working at the button on your jeans. The moment they were undone he slipped his hand beneath the denim, his fingers lifting the material at the top of your panties to make space for his fingers, which he pushed beneath your underwear too. You gasped from the feeling of two of his fingers delving through your wet slit, brushing up towards your clit and then beginning to rub it in small, teasing circles with his index finger. Your hands slammed down onto his shoulders, your clutch creasing the denim fabric clothing them.

"Holy shit, Negan." You managed to choke out through laboured breaths.

A desperate, shrill cry rips from you as he pushes both digits into your opening, a rather haughty grin spreading across Negan's lips. He leaned in so that his lips lightly brush across your ear, planting a brief kiss on your jaw before he spoke.

"I've missed the sound of those pretty moans coming right outta that pretty mouth." Negan whispered throatily, flattering you as he pumped his fingers.

The intrusion of his fingers somewhat relieved the pressure, but it wasn't enough. As though he read your mind Negan slipped his fingers out from inside you and removed them from your panties, pushing his now slick fingers into his mouth. He tasted you with an approving groan, his eyes faintly half-lidded with lust. You watched him attentively, and the moment his fingertips slipped from his lips your mouth was on him, tasting your fluids on his tongue. Greedily, you felt the fingers of his free hand hook in the waistband of your jeans and start to yank them down your legs, your skin stinging as it was harshly exposed to the unforgivingly bitter air. His lips parted from yours, and he knelt down to help remove the material that had gathered at your calves, your palms rested on his shoulders to support yourself. When he finally got them off he offhandedly tossed them to the side, slinging your jeans into a pile of leaves. You threw your head back a little when your body began to be smothered with a trail of small, intent pecks. They worked their way up your thighs, to your inner thigh, outlining the skin just below your panties, and then directly on your groin. The affection hazed your mind, his touch hitching your faltering breaths and leaving you anticipating the moment he'd finally please you. When he'd finally relieve you. After paying careful attention to your thighs his fingers swiftly discarded your underwear, and you were utterly helpless to him. He stood to his feet, pressing his body against yours to keep you backed against the tree while his fingers worked at his own clothing, freeing himself through the fly of his jeans.

"Turn around, baby."

Negan barely had to ask, and you were already on it. You spun to face the tree, leaning against it with an arched back and your palms flattened against the bark. It was rough against your palms, but the feeling of Negan's fingers gripping your hips was far more distracting. You knew your hips would be a myriad of blues, greens, and purples an hour or so from now, shades to remind you of one of your many betrayals.

"Try to keep it down, alright? Don't need to be dealing with a rotter whilst I'm elbow deep in the cookie jar, if ya know what I mean?" Negan's crass analogy earned a soft giggle, a sound met with his own earnest chuckle.

Then you felt him, and your legs threatened to give way then and there. His careful affections, how he kissed reminders of him into your skin and took his time with you and your body, your heart was so full. He started at a slow pace, and it had you realising how much he was just drinking you in. Negan was enamoured with you. He leant in to rest the side of his face against yours, the angle only maneuvering him deeper.

"You're so beautiful." A gravelly hoarse whisper, his stubble scratching the line of your jaw.

It was enough to almost break you, the way he ardently articulated his affinity for you. You parted your lips to express your response when you were interrupted by a bottomless, hard thrust, the warning of an impending change in pace. Unsurprisingly he picked up his rhythm, every thrust matched with heated, honest whines, and sobs that had Negan smiling against your skin. He was groaning too, with low rumbles that sounded like music to your ears. Although he was most certainly fucking you senseless, engaging in filthy, salacious acts for another time, there was an air of passion. His hands were caressing your hips even as he afflicted them, and the occasional sensation of his lips planting kisses into the mess he'd already made of the crook of your neck. The juxtaposition of his actions wholly ruined you, and the satisfied cry that came from the pit of your stomach was more than enough to prove it. Your clenching had him sighing into your ear, delaying his own release just to grant you a few more moments of the continuation of his thrusts, even despite your intense orgasm. When he couldn't compose himself any longer Negan removed himself from you and spilled onto your bare ass, hot wet spurts that you barely took notice of as you attempted to steady your breathing. The tree bark was digging into your palms, and your mind was unfathomably fuzzy. You squeezed your eyes shut as you worked towards your recovery, and Negan rolled back the sleeve of his denim jacket to use the sleeve of the top below to tenderly wipe your skin, cleaning you. When he'd wiped you clean he went and retrieved your discarded clothing, and you instinctively turned to face him, flattening your palms against the ridges behind you whilst you leant against the tree that you were so sure was the only reason that you were still standing. After he'd helped you back to being fully clothed your legs were far more reliable, and you gazed at him as he buttoned your jeans back up for you.

"Negan?"

"Yeah?"

His attention was still momentarily on your jeans before he glanced up to lock eyes with you, strands of hair having fallen from his usual slick making him look that much more handsomely unkempt, not that you looked any better.

"We're screwed, right? What you do to me, and the way you make me feel, that's never going away. Is it?"

His stare softened as your eyes filled with despair, your internal battle still not totally lost on you. The sympathy in his gaze was answer enough, and yet he avoided your question with one of his own.

"I asked you if you trusted me, and you did. With you, again. So, what about a game?"

Whatever idea Negan could possibly have come up with was totally lost on you, your narrowed eyes filling with acute doubt.

"A game?"

"Yeah. The games this, for one day, just today, we don't hate each other's guts. Can't hurt each other, no hurling insults, no looking at me like I just shit in your cereal, nothing. Hell, pretend you never even knew me until Alexandria."

Naturally, your internal initial response was to be outraged. The idea of everything he had ever done to you melting away for the sake of a game, further tarnishing the respect you had for those that Negan had killed, was infuriating. But on the other hand, much to your dismay, you were intrigued. What would that look like? Was there a version of yourself where you didn't have to feel such guilt for letting him touch you, to not be so disgusted with yourself? You exhaled a long sigh, letting some of your frustration disperse through your breath.

Your curiosity had gotten the better of you.

"Fine. But what about in front of the others?"

"That's an exception."

Thank god.

"Fine."

It fell silent, nothing but the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees, and your quiet calm breaths. You found yourself tapping into something you rarely felt, or even acknowledged, a draw to him. It was an aspect of your view on Negan you often denied, his undeniable magnetism, a notion that you quelled time and time again.

"Wanna get going then?"

You nodded, still adjusting to the vulnerability of being completely outside of your comfort zone. The walk the rest of the way was relatively calm, and you hadn't come across any walkers on the way there. The sound of a gunshot ringing out in the distance was enough to force you out of your train of thought, an indicator that Maggie and the others were nearby. You were just about to head in the direction of the ruckus when you felt Negan's fingers interlink with yours, the touch resulting in a momentary pause.

"I got no idea what we're walking into, so just stay close." He disclosed his reason for the abrupt hand-holding, elements of concern tinging his reasoning.

The two of you continued onwards, headed directly towards copious amounts of trouble. The culprit for where the fight had broken out appeared to be a desolate small town filled with various decrepit buildings and structures, piles of rubble scattered across the streets like just about anywhere else in the world. Hand in hand you cautiously crept your way into the battlefield, making your way into a fairly narrow alley that led right out to several other passages. You stuck close to the occasionally jagged brick walls, your back pressed to them as you made your way along, only stopping once you reached a protruding corner that if turned would lead right out into another intersecting alleyway. With great attention, you listened for noise, footsteps, chatter, and anything that would indicate someone was nearby. When you heard nothing you put one foot past the wall ready to cross to the other side, but Negan snatched you back. Your back slammed against his chest, and you were just about to tell him exactly how much you'd like to break his fingers for putting his hands on you when you realised two things. The first thing was this ridiculous game that you were determined not to chicken out and lose, and the second? The now more audible sound of a group of commonwealth troopers approaching, their weighted footsteps grinding with the concrete beneath their feet. Negan just saved both of your asses. His arm was wrapped across your front, pulling you against him with his hand gripping the space between your waist and the side of your chest. It was only when the troopers began to pass you that you realised the worst was yet to come, that you could be spotted right here. There was a point of the wall that would allow you the slightest of cover, and you buried yourselves in it. Your breath picked up, becoming a slow frantic pant, and you pressed your lips together to constrain the sounds of your irregular breath. Eventually, the soldiers passed, and both you and Negan exhaled a deep sigh of relief. His hold loosened on you, and you turned to face him.

"Thanks." You muttered, hoping that the gratitude your eyes gleamed with was convincing enough.

"No problem, now c'mon."

Negan stepped out just past the wall and you followed alongside him. Simultaneously, the sight in the periphery of your vision startled both of you, drawing your weapons in your fright. Synchronously, everybody lowered them once we came to realise who one another was, we'd bumped into Aaron and Gabriel.

"What are you guys doing here?" Aaron whispered, whilst Gabriel kept a lookout for any other not-so-pleasant surprises.

"We wanted to help." You replied, ignoring the unconvinced scowl that that earned when Aaron's eyes flickered over to glare at Negan.

"We haven't got time for this, we need to move." Gabriel suggested, and we were all happy to heed that rather wise warning.

You moved as a group, navigating your way through the street until eventually stumbling across an overgrown and dormant building. With weapons readied you made your way inside, mindful of any walkers or people that may be in there. When you saw nothing you continued, flinching a little when both Gabriel and Aaron turned the corner to make their way into a room up ahead and were momentarily alarmed by whatever or whoever was inside. Negan and you were a little further behind, and by time you caught up, they were talking. It was Daryl's voice, which meant-

"Maggie?" You busted into the room, almost tripping over your own feet in your disbelief.

She came into view, injured, but alive. That was all that mattered. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you, and you scurried towards her, latching onto one another with the biggest embrace you'd ever felt. She was the first to pull back, her hands now rested on either side of your forearms. Maggie glanced over your shoulder, some of the light in her eyes fading when she realised you'd brought Negan, and that Hershel wasn't with you.

"Where's Hershel?" She pressed you, her voice moderately raised with motherly concern.

"He's with those people, Maggie. He's in good hands." The fact that he was still sheltered and hidden appeared to soothe her, and some of the tension in her shoulders dissipated.

"We're here to take out shithead and the dickless brigade." Negan added, as charming and sophisticated a mouth as ever.

Whilst everybody hatched a plan you stood at her side, holding each other's nearest hand. Though you could feel Negan's eyes on you, burning holes into the side of your head, you did not meet his gaze. Being with Maggie allowed you to be so overcome with that same guilt again, familiar wounds reopening that you thought had long healed.

"Wait, wait, hold up. Hold up. We can do all of this. They've never seen your face before." Daryl elaborated upon his plan by pointing right at Negan, and the surprised look on his face was priceless.

"Right, are you saying I just walk right on in there?" Judging by the slight narrow of his eyes Negan was trying to gauge whether this was a setup or not, a sacrificial lamb kind of situation.

It wasn't.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Daryl had a point, but there was something he failed to mention too.

"I'm going too then." Your abrupt vocal participation had everybody's heads turned to look at you, and Maggie's hand slightly tugged yours.

Somehow you had gone this long without ever coming directly face to face with Lance or the commonwealth, enough for Pamela not to possess enough knowledge of you. Whenever they'd make a surprise visit you'd either leave for supplies or steer clear, and you'd made it this far.

"No." Maggie muttered curtly from beside you, causing you to turn and face her.

Maggie was rattled by the idea of you being alone with him, again. You just got each other back, and you were splitting again. The worst part? Putting your neck on the line for not just them, but Negan. Going with him meant helping him, she knew that.

"Maggie, it's not your call to make." It was a little blunt, but her dark eyes flickered with understanding, as much as she'd rather put up a fight over the decision of you going.

You gradually part your hand from hers as you started to walk, your hand sliding down hers with the adjoined hesitance to let one another go, before your own fingertips finally parted from hers. Your eyes locked with Negan's for the first time since you'd clambered in here, and his vague expression left you conflicted. He was trying to disguise his joy from getting to spend such intimate time with you again, and from your eager offer to help him. His jaw jaws clenched as he fought the urge to smile, but the light in his eyes was not so easily dampened. After crossing the room you made your way to his side, your eyes wavering over to meet Daryl's.

"Alright. So what's the plan?" Negan asked, and you glanced at each other briefly.

No turning back now.

#the walking dead negan #negan smith #negan twd #negan x y/n #negan x you #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd negan #negan #negan fanfiction #negan fic #negan smut #twd #jeffrey dean morgan

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kayleen756894 · 1 year

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It’s best girl’s birthday 🤍❄️

I’ve been writing a Bees Schnees fic for Weiss’ birthday that I really hoped to have done for today but it’s nowhere close lol (at 5000 words so far tho). My goal now is to finish it for the end of the month but I wanted to give Weiss something today so y’all can have a lengthy snippet! Hope you enjoy and anticipate the full fic 🤍🖤💛

This time had her counting down the days. This time made it difficult to fall asleep the night before. This time she expected a change. This time she knew would be her best birthday yet.

Because this was her first birthday since joining Blake and Yang’s relationship.

It was still fresh enough to make her giddy, rousing most mornings in heart-pounding bewilderment that both were sleeping beside her, Yang snoring in her ear and Blake’s fur tickling her neck. She’d loved them for years, ached with the onslaught of emotions that thawed through freedom, but never planned to confess. The thought of intruding was so mortifying it froze her tongue, pining preferable to losing them entirely. She never imagined they felt the same—why would she when they were understandably enthralled with each other—so when they approached her one evening hand in hand, Blake’s ears flicking nervously and Yang’s cheeks a brilliant red, she thought she was dreaming.

Each warm morning proved otherwise, and this was no different.

In terms of birthday surprises she didn’t miss the biggest clue this time: the parallel universe she found herself in where she was last to rise. Yang wasn’t in bed, her astounding body heat lingering in the depression in the mattress, but the chill of her absence was soothed by Blake stroking her arm and pulling her close.

“Happy birthday,” Blake whispered, pressing a kiss to her crown.

Weiss sighed in contentment. “Thank you.” She snuggled under Blake’s chin, mouth twitching at the muted purrs rumbling in Blake’s chest. “Where’s Yang?”

“Making you breakfast.”

Of course she was.

Acts of service were Yang’s predominant love language, something Weiss had come to learn after how often Yang effortlessly carried her shopping bags without prompt, how she immediately tried fixing anything that broke, how Bumblebee was always tuned and ready for any outing Weiss desired. Weiss was used to service thanks to Klein and all the other staff at the manor, but services provided out of love rather than a sense of obligation was alien to her.

Well, until Yang brightened up her life like the sun peaking over the horizon, darkness banished under the rays showering her like spotlights. Making someone’s day better was simply Yang’s nature and that stubborn oaf never asked for anything in return. Helping people gave Yang purpose and satisfaction, Weiss knew that, but she wished Yang knew how to accept help, too.

“Why aren’t you with her?” Weiss asked, voice still muddled with sleep.

“To—” Blake trailed into an adorable yawn, her perpetual tiredness undeterred by today’s monumental occasion. “To make sure you stay in bed.”

Weiss blinked, retreating just enough to catch the mischievous glint in Blake’s glossy eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Blake’s breathy laugh warmed Weiss’ cheeks, lithe fingers skiing down the avalanche of Weiss’ loose tresses. “Wouldn’t be breakfast in bed otherwise.”

“How romantic of her,” Weiss droned with a roll of her eyes, ignoring how Blake probably knew of the butterflies mirroring the motion in her stomach. “Does it really matter where I eat?”

“Let her have this,” Blake giggled. “She wants to treat you today.”

“She does that every day.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that, but she really wants to today.”

“Oh, fine.” Her sigh billowed with faux-exasperation, a fond smile tugging her lips. “I suppose I won’t argue if that’s what she wants.”

Blake mimicked her smile, increasing the tempo of the butterflies dancing in her gut, gifting Weiss’ forehead with a long kiss. “Glad you’re so agreeable because the rest of the day will be like this, too. We planned it all out.”

“‘We,’” Weiss mocked with a snort. “Sure. How much of it was just you?”

Blake cocked an amused brow. “Would you believe me if I said most of it was her?”

“No.”

Outside of strategy games Yang was the very definition of spontaneity, each second like a peculiar challenge to outdo her prior insanity, and Weiss made peace with the erratic screeches from the garage and the playful smacks from a detached metal arm when they were positioned too far to touch and her constant schedule interruptions to humour Yang’s daredevil tendencies. All Weiss knew growing up was compulsory silence, so during their early Beacon days such noisy behaviour annoyed her to no end.

But there was love in Yang’s noise, just like there was love in Blake’s quiet, and their all-encompassing contrast left no room for loneliness.

Weiss’ deadpan expression chipped from her musings, crumbling altogether when Blake’s amusement didn’t relent. “Wait, you’re serious? Since when does Yang plan anything?”

Only then did amber soften into the look that, when they were seventeen, melted the frozen chains caging Weiss’ heart.

“Since she fell head over heels for you.”

And Weiss always knew what to say. Always had a witty comment prepared. If she couldn’t speak her mind then others would talk over her, and she’d lose the power she was promised. She’d been trained since birth to outsmart liars and cheaters and miscreants trying to take advantage of her; being groomed by politics and harsh business practices and an impassive family offered little else in ways of survival.

But she wasn’t surviving anymore, she was living, and such genuineness rendered her speechless.

Blake cupped her face, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. Dark, thick eyelashes fluttered as molten amber flickered about, admiring her scar and nose and mouth like they were priceless paintings hung in her personal gallery. Then, in that entrancing way of hers, “Would you believe me if I said I know how she feels?”

Honestly, it required constant reminders—not like she asked, nor did she need to with Blake and Yang’s openness with their affection. She didn’t get along with them at first, not with Ruby either, and she was mature enough to admit it was primarily her doing. She was petulant and prejudiced and considered it a miracle they wanted anything to do with her after her abhorrent behaviour. It wasn’t entirely her fault, impressionable as she’d been, but it was no excuse.

Forgiveness was incomprehensible before Beacon, just like how anything could possibly be more important than her rightful place leading the company, so being told it was okay, that she had opportunities to overcome who she was, that every misstep established a new path, that she’d be supported in battle rather than judged; such unfamiliar encouragement and understanding pierced the frosted glass veiling her eyes to reveal another concept previously incomprehensible.

Love.

Before she knew it Blake and Yang became her night and day, occupying her thoughts so embarrassingly often she was even distracted from her studies. After Beacon fell she wistfully beheld every dusk and dawn, her longing for them all that kept her going until she found her home in their arms again. The very notion of losing them again was unbearable, and she was willing to bury her true feelings deep inside if it kept them close. She’d take their companionship in any form so long as they stayed in her life.

Only recently she realized how significantly snow illuminated the night and glimmered during the day.

“Eventually I’ll say yes without hesitating,” Weiss murmured, hoping her residual guilt wasn’t too palpable. “I’m sure you understand why it’s still difficult for me.”

“Here.” Blake’s tone drooped along with her eyelids, thumb skimming Weiss’ lower lip. “I’ll make it easier.”

And then Blake’s lips were on hers, soft and reassuring, and everything Weiss had ever worried about no longer mattered. Blake’s hand snuck around the back of her neck to tug her closer and why would Weiss want to be anywhere else, sighing at the warm press of Blake’s half-naked body and laying a hand to Blake’s chest, idly tracing her collarbone. Blake purred into her mouth, their kiss briefly fractured by Weiss’ breathy giggle before Blake surged forward again, nibbling gently at Weiss’ lower lip until coaxing a soft moan.

Another escaped as Blake’s other hand snuck under her shirt to flatten at the small of her back, pulling her closer almost possessively, and honestly Weiss wouldn’t mind spending her entire birthday right—

“Wow.”

They begrudgingly separated at the awestruck utterance to see Yang watching from the doorway with wide eyes and a wider grin. Her arms managed multiple plates buried in sweet-smelling food—exactly what food Weiss couldn’t say, as she found herself hopelessly devoted for the umpteenth time to those exposed and ever impressive muscles.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Yang said, narrowly successful in ripping Weiss’ gaze to her easy shrug before leaning against the doorframe. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“What an incredible idea,” Weiss quipped with a roll of her eyes, a natural reaction to Yang’s conspicuous presence. “What do you think, Blake?” She contained her amusement as Blake’s ears flicked her way before her eyes, clearly enjoying Yang’s appearance just as much. “How long do you think she’d last if we kept kissing?”

That enticed a playful curl of Blake’s lips. “Do you think five minutes is too harsh?”

“Please. We’d get dive-bombed after one.”

“Hey now.” Yang pouted. “I’m right—”

“Oh? What’s that?” Weiss stage whispered, pretending to survey the room. “To my knowledge no one else should be here.”

Yang huffed over Blake’s quiet giggles, her vexed façade tarnished by the sparkle in her eyes. “Aren’t you hilarious.”

Yes she was—quite prideful of the fact—and aware she had one person to thank for it. She smirked at Yang, edges mellowed with inevitable endearment. “I learned from the best.”

Yang’s big, dumb grin in response disrupted Weiss’ heart rate like clockwork, how it always stretched from ear to ear with unrestrained buoyancy and sniped between her ribs with pinpoint accuracy. Yang sauntered over with a bounce to her step and Weiss and Blake sat up as she relinquished the plates at the end of the bed, grin still firmly in place as she bent over to kiss their cheeks.

“You hear that, Blake?” Yang egged as she attached to Weiss’ side like a personal space heater, reaching to hold Blake’s hand on Weiss’ lap, and Weiss couldn’t resist laying her own hand on top. “Weiss thinks I’m the best.”

“Well, you are,” Blake agreed way too readily, signalling the oncoming jibe. “At being a goofball.”

There it was, and Weiss smiled at the taunting flick of Blake’s ear and Yang childishly sticking out her tongue. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Yang didn’t seem bothered by the gang-up, steel fingers squeezing Blake’s and her thumb stroking Weiss’. “If it makes you both smile, I’ll be the greatest goofball who ever goofed.”

That revolutionary statement was already a strong start, and to this day Weiss couldn’t believe how attractive Yang was when saying such ridiculous things. She was the exact opposite of who she expected to love, the exact opposite of who she would’ve been expected to marry, shameless qualities that shaped Yang into one of the most stunning individuals Weiss had ever known. Yang always had something to say, often ineloquently, but the warmth of her soul pouring from her voice like liquid gold dazzled Weiss to the point of fatuity.

“Don’t worry,” Weiss said through her haze, gripping Yang’s hand. “You don’t need to try that hard.”

She couldn’t recall exactly when her insults had softened with fondness—somewhere back in the blur of Beacon—but she did recall the first time they turned Yang’s frown into a smile, a type of smile no one ever tossed her way before, a type that simmered in her belly and slowly melted her frostbitten heart, and with Weiss’ goal-oriented attitude she had no problem enhancing her list with achieve that smile as often as possible.

And this time was no different, heart pattering in her ears from Yang’s openly enamoured stare, and it was all too easy losing herself in the genuineness she inspired.

#happy birthday Weiss I love you #bees schnees #rwby #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #monochrome #freezerburn #fanfiction #fanfic

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shivunin · 10 months

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Fic writer asks: 26, 43, 49?

Hey, thank you for asking! c: I am horrible at choosing just one thing, so here are several answers instead lol

(Fic Writer Asks)

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

No dialogue!

I usually write a very close 3rd person and a lot of what's going on at any given time is internal, so I could pretty easily get around not writing dialogue by writing thoughts instead c:

I love dialogue (especially if people are arguing with each other), but writing something that's just dialogue immediately brings to mind that one short story by Hemingway that I had to read for a class and despised. (I am not a fan of his work, no offense intended if anyone enjoys it.) It could be an interesting challenge, though!

43. If you take/write prompts: what’s your favorite prompt fic that you’ve written?

OOOOH that's a really tough one!! I am going to pick my top four instead, because I can't choose just one.

Only a Kiss, which is the first thing I wrote for Wen and Zev. It has this air of intense anticipation that I still love so much whenever I reread it.

The Small Hours, because it has such a cozy atmosphere and I love the idea of Hawke and Fenris talking late into the night because neither one of them wants to stop listening to the other

Corpus Animaque because I love the "person says tender things in another language because they know the other won't understand" trope

A Storm's Aftermath because they are both so awkward oh my god

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Here is a little from two different projects. I am mostly working on a Mass Effect thing right now, but this is a Dragon Age blog so I'll put that one first.

From a fic about Zevran leaving for Antiva just before the events of Awakening:

“You did,” but she’d thought he was talking about leaving to find food or wander the city, not… Leave. “Now, you mean—how soon?” “Today,” he said, and there was a soft noise when he strapped his pack shut. “There is a boat at the docks that I can board without a name; they have agreed to take me back to Antiva City as soon as I…What? What is it?” Tabris ignored him and finished pulling her leathers on. Her hair was still loose, in her way—she gathered it with both hands and began to pull it into a braid. Her grip was tight enough to sting her scalp, but she ignored that, too. “Arianwen?” She finished tying her hair off. A hand brushed her arm in the space between her breastplate and her bracers, but she stepped away from the touch. Something horrible and acid was churning in her chest and she did not know what to do with it. “Mi vida?” he asked, far too close to her. Wen took her weapons from the table and slid them into her requisite sheaths: ten throwing blades, a dagger and longsword for close combat. There was a crossbow, too, but she left it beside the dressing table. When she would have started for the door, Zevran stepped in front of her and blocked the way. Wen stopped, her eyes focused past him at the door. Leaving. Today. Now. She should’ve known this was coming, but she’d let herself think... “I am coming back soon,” he said quietly, and reached for her face. Wen let him take her chin between his thumb and forefinger, let him kiss her carefully and softly, but she might have been a stone statue for all the response she gave him. When he pulled away, frowning, his eyes fixed on hers, Tabris went on looking past him. “Are you leaving or not?” she asked. “Wouldn’t want you to be late for your ship.” When she stepped past him, he moved aside. When she held the door open, he took his pack silently from the bed and stepped through it.

From a Shakarian fic about memory (what do I write that isn't about memory?) and....coming back from the dead? Hard to summarize currently:

Shepard huffed when she turned around again, cheeks slightly discolored. “No idea why I’m telling you all this. Must be drunker’n I thought.” “No,” Garrus said, waving a hand. “No, I…I’m glad you told me.” “Sure.” The song wound to a stop and she scraped her hair back from her forehead again. Her chest rose and fell quickly, sweat beaded her skin. When he looked at her, she avoided his eyes. “She used to dance?” he asked. Shepard blinked and looked up. A billboard nearby cycled through pink and purple, tracing the edge of her skin in vibrant and strange colors. “They both did,” she said. After a moment, she held out a hand. “I could teach you, if you wanted.” For a moment, he almost took it. This was the most casual she’d ever been with him, the least he’d ever felt like he was coming up just a little short in her eyes. But—well. He didn’t really dance. Garrus held up both hands in surrender, taking a step back and taking her jacket from the wall. Handing it to her seemed like the least he could do if he was going to tell her no. “I think I’ll pass,” he said. “Don’t think turian legs are meant to bend that way.” (A few months later, when he stood in silence at the memorial ceremony, his C-Sec armor abruptly weighing more than the whole Citadel combined, Garrus wished like hell that he’d just taken her hand.) That night—the last night—Shepard laughed and snagged her jacket from his hand, grazing the side of his finger. She shrugged it back on in one easy motion. The music cut off when she tapped her wrist again, and for a moment they waited in silence.

#ask response #shivunin scrivening #zevwen #sorry for the length aijbkfbf #i tried to pick smaller sections but i got excited!

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theflyingfeeling · 1 year

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Just a little update on the Valentine's Day fics! 💘

This is slightly embarrassing because this time I did actually ask for the prompts for like a month in advance lol, but unfortunately things and stuff have happened since then and my stubborn-ass brain has not been cooperative recently, so finishing them is taking a little longer than expected. All the prompts I've gotten are super cute and I'm happy to work on them, but I'm a slow writer and take my sweet time in crafting the stories so that I'll eventually be satisfied enough to release them into the world for all of you to read ✨

I also refuse to force myself into writing them out of pressure (from myself!!), so if my brain gets too tangled because of X (might or might not be related to writing, depends on the day lol), I simply won't get a single word on paper, in which case it's better to just let myself rest and wait for the words to come out of my head by themselves, not by forcing them. However, I want to make it clear that there's absolutely no pressure from any of the requesters, and I mean absolutely none, so I don't want anyone feeling bad for sending in a prompt because hey, I asked for them, didn't I? 😄 Any pressure I feel comes from myself and no one else, because I'm not going to half-arse any story I write, be it requested or my own idea, but as I said, the way I work on my stories can sometimes be time-consuming. It takes quite a bit of patience, which I have little, but I can only hope all of you lovely people who have sent me prompts are willing to wait to read yours even a little after February 14, and I thank you in advance for you patience 💖

(and to define 'pressure' it's not 'ugh I got to write this story' but rather 'oof how do I make justice to the requester's interesting idea? 🤔')

In short, it's clear I'm not going to finish them all by next Tuesday, but that's okay, because I'm doing what I can the best I can, and that's perfectly enough 😌 If I don't finish the story I'm currently working on today, there's always tomorrow! 🌼

#a perfectionist speaking hello hi 👋#let's just say the whole month of february is valentine's day okay? 😂

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set-phasers-to-whump · 1 year

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breaking

prompt: hiding an illness

whumpee: gereon rath

fandom: gereon rath mysteries/babylon berlin

hi what's up here's the slightly delayed start to my month-ish of writing for my bthb card! only note on this fic is it's mostly based on the books but can be fit in the context of the show pretty easily. i hope you like it!

Gereon Rath wakes up on a chilly, overcast Tuesday morning with a pounding headache, a throat that feels scraped raw, and a general feeling of complete exhaustion. The exhaustion is fairly normal - he never gets enough sleep - but the headache and sore throat are not. Today is going to be a long day.

As soon as he climbs out from beneath the covers, he begins to shiver. The floor feels unbearably cold beneath his bare feet and his head spins with the change in position.

For a brief second, as he’s struggling to button his collar, Gereon thinks about calling off. But Gennat is already not entirely pleased with his progress on his current investigation, and Gereon just knows that if he slips up one more time, all his hard work will have been for nothing and control of the investigation will pass to Böhm. He’d rather get some work done but feel a little miserable than spend the day languishing and worrying over whether he’ll still be in charge of his own investigation come tomorrow.

He makes up his mind to go to work and act like everything is completely normal. As if in reaction to this decision, a sudden tickle works its way into his throat, forcing him to cough. It’s harsh and painful, making his eyes water. He blinks hard, takes a deep, aching breath, and heads for the stairs.

The drive to the Castle is a barrage of sound and light that pulses through his already-aching head until he can barely focus on the street in front of him. By some miracle, he and his car arrive at work unharmed, and he walks through the front doors with what he hopes is a perfectly neutral look on his face.

He steps through the door to A Division a few minutes before the morning meeting begins, and his ears are immediately assaulted by some kind of shouting match taking place between Henning and Czerwinski. He winces at the noise and resists the temptation to cover his ears, instead making a beeline for his office in the hopes of getting at least a minute or two of relative quiet.

He doesn’t bother to turn on the light, as that’s just about the last thing his aching head needs. He simply sinks down into his chair and pillows his head on his arms, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his face even as he shivers and pulls his overcoat tighter around his body.

He’s absolutely miserable and the day hasn’t even officially begun. Tears of frustration prick at the backs of his eyes as he thinks about the long hours of work ahead of him, but he refuses to let them fall. He’ll be fine. He has to be.

He gives himself just a couple of minutes sitting there in the dark and breathing deeply before he forces himself to his feet. His head spins. He ignores it and steels himself for the noisy atmosphere that always accompanies morning meetings.

Gereon is among the last of the division to take a seat. He winds up directly across from Böhm, who glares at him. Despite his misery, Gereon feels a gleam of satisfaction - he knows Böhm wants this case, and there is no way he will let the bulldog have it. He’ll push through. He’ll be fine.

He half-listens as other members of the squad discuss updates to their own investigations, but is sure to pay enough attention so that when the Buddha calls on him to report, he’s ready.

He talks about the progress they’d made yesterday - not much, admittedly, though there may be something involving a butcher’s shop - and outlines today’s objectives. This includes visiting said butcher’s shop, as well as interviewing six possible witnesses, all of whom had yesterday claimed to have no knowledge of the murder that had taken place directly outside their windows.

Gereon finishes speaking and subtly reaches up to rub his pained throat. Meanwhile, Gennat nods in satisfaction, and shortly thereafter, the meeting breaks up. Gereon steels himself to work and gathers his team: Henning and Czerwinski, who have evidently come to an agreement regarding the contents of their earlier argument, and Gräf.

“We’ll visit the butcher first. Henning and Czerwinski, you’ll go with me. Gräf, I need you to set up for the witness interviews. We shouldn’t be long.”

They split up and Gereon leads the way outside, tensing his muscles in an effort to stop himself from visibly shivering in the unbearably cold air. He supposes it must work, or else Plisch and Plum are completely unobservant this morning (which is entirely possible), because neither of them comments on it.

The drive to the butcher’s is mercifully short, and Gereon, slightly invigorated from the morning’s activity, focuses on the road with a clearer head than before.

Their visit’s purpose is twofold: it’s possible that the shop was used as an escape route for their killer, and it’s also possible the owner heard something the night of the murder, though he had not been forthcoming with what exactly this was when he’d called the station. Gereon determines that Henning and Czerwinski will handle investigating the possibility of the former, while he himself will ask the owner about the latter.

They walk through the door and are immediately assaulted with the smell of raw meat. It makes Gereon nauseous. He doesn’t even want to breathe. But breathing shallowly, he quickly discovers, makes him feel both like he is about to start coughing and like he is about to pass out. He decides he can deal with a little nausea in exchange for the other two things not happening.

The three men set to work. Gereon and the butcher sit on two rickety chairs in a cramped office that somehow smells more strongly of meat than the front of the shop.

“What do you have to tell us?” he asks, his voice slightly hoarse, so that he’s forced to cough to clear it up. Pain shoots up his throat, and he almost misses the butcher’s answer.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I mean to say, I didn’t want to get into any trouble with whoever it was. But I swear I heard footsteps in the shop after closing. I think I heard a man whisper something about a wall, and there might have been a response, but I can’t be sure. And when I went to check, I knew that someone had been here. They took some of my sausages.”

Gereon has to think about his next question, which usually would have passed his lips instinctively. “Did you see anything else?”

The man closes his eyes, evidently deep in thought. “There was a mark on the wall, like someone had scuffed a boot against it. Maybe there was dirt on the floor, too, but I would have swept it away - I do still have customers, you know.”

Gereon nods. His head throbs. He swallows against a particularly strong wave of nausea and can’t quite stop himself from wincing at the sharp pain that winds its way down his throat.

“Can I see the mark?” he asks, after an awkwardly long period of silence.

“Of course.”

The butcher gets up and goes to the door that joins the office to the rest of the shop. Gereon stands to follow him, and a wave of intense dizziness washes over him. He nearly sinks back onto the chair, but manages to stay on his feet.

After a second, he begins to walk towards the open door, which suddenly seems impossibly far away. Black spots dance in his vision and his legs shake underneath him and everything hurts and he’s cold and dizzy and nauseous and sick and he should have stayed at home, he’d gladly give the case over to Böhm now if it’d mean being anywhere but here, he can’t do this, he can’t -

He catches himself on the door jamb, blinks long and slow at the scene of Henning and Czerwinski excitedly talking and gesturing with the butcher, and then his legs disappear from underneath him and suddenly he’s on the ground.

The next thing he’s aware of is someone tapping his face insistently. He forces his eyes open and stares up at the blurred faces of Henning and Czerwinski and the butcher, in various states of concern.

“What happened?” Czerwinski asks.

“He’s really warm,” Henning replies, turning his head around to look at his friend. He turns back to Gereon as he asks, “what’s wrong with you?”

Gereon’s tongue feels like lead in his mouth. He shivers and tries to think up a suitable excuse. “I’m okay,” he mumbles, eventually.

“You have a fever.”

At this proclamation, the butcher backs away from him, muttering something about customers. Henning and Czerwinski remain where they are, and Henning reaches down and pulls Gereon into a sitting position with a good deal more force and speed than is strictly necessary.

For a second, Gereon’s vision whites out. His ears start to ring and he shuts his eyes and tries to breathe through the dizziness. He cannot remember the last time he felt so sick. He just wants to go home.

After a moment, he realizes that Henning and Czerwinski are talking above him. He catches words but not their meaning. He’d like to curl in on himself and fall asleep, but Henning’s arms are trapping him. At least they’re warm, though Gereon himself is still freezing.

“Okay?” he hears, all of a sudden, the first word he’s actually able to parse. He isn’t sure who or what the word is referring to, but he thinks it might be him. For lack of a better option, he very slowly, very slightly, nods.

He isn’t sure what he expected. All of a sudden he’s being pulled to his feet and he nearly passes out again and as soon as his legs take on weight they’re shaking and he can feel himself starting to lose the battle with the tears building behind his eyes but he won’t - he can’t - not in front of his subordinates. Not in front of anyone at all.

Henning and Czerwinski all but drag him to the car. Gereon is shoved almost gently into the backseat. The engine starts. Dimly, he wonders when Henning had gotten hold of his keys.

He leans his head against the cold window as they pull away from the shop, staring without really seeing as his breath fogs up the glass.

“Where do you live?” comes Czerwinski’s voice from the passenger seat.

Gereon mumbles his address without thinking about it. He wants water. His throat feels like it is full of sand.

The drive passes torturously slowly. He hears Henning and Czerwinski quietly bickering, and under that, the sounds of traffic. He closes his eyes and wishes he could fall asleep.

Eventually, the car stops. Gereon opens his eyes and realizes that they are stopped in front of his apartment building. He vaguely recalls having given Czerwinski the address. He’s home. The thought of his own bed is nearly enough to finally make him cry. So too is the thought of being left completely alone, although he is quite well used to it.

“I’ll go in on my own,” he says, when Henning tries to help him get out of the car. Despite his current state, he does have authority, and Henning listens.

“Feel better,” he says, quite sincerely, if awkwardly.

Gereon sort of nods, and then he’s alone. He walks very slowly and carefully into the building, staring at the ground the whole time.

He takes the elevator up to his floor, ignoring the operator because he simply cannot find it in himself to speak. He’ll have to apologize later, he thinks. For the time being, he simply gives the man the same half-nod he’d given Henning before stepping off the elevator and onto his floor.

His hand shakes as he inserts the key into the lock. It rattles as he struggles to turn it, and then the door opens, though he hadn’t fully turned the key.

For a second he simply stares at her, uncomprehending. Charly isn’t supposed to be back from Hamburg until tomorrow morning. And yet she’s here, in his apartment, with a smile on her face that rapidly turns into an expression that is half shock, half worry.

She tugs him inside when he finds that his legs won’t move. The door closes behind them, horribly loud in the relative silence.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks at her and tries to come up with a suitable answer. He opens his mouth to say something, but a harsh cough tears its way through him before he can get a single word out.

The cough leaves him with tears in his eyes, and this time, he isn’t able to fight them off. He just - breaks. He starts to cry, all of the misery and pain and absolute exhaustion overwhelming in their intensity.

Charly surges forwards and wraps gentle arms around him, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder.

“You’re burning up,” she says softly. “Are you ill?”

He nods against her shoulder, too worn out to be ashamed of admitting the truth, of wanting this comfort.

“Come on.”

Charly pulls him by the hand down the hall and into the bedroom. Her hand is shockingly cold against his own, but it’s comforting, too.

He lies down atop the covers and immediately closes his eyes, which are still dripping tears down his face. He has not been this tired in a long time. Nor has he been so cared for. He feels Charly pull a blanket over him, feels her remove his shoes, feels her cold hand on his forehead and in his hair.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Gereon tugs the blanket tighter around himself and at last falls asleep.

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

#bad things happen bingo #babylon berlin #gereon rath mysteries #gereon rath #sick #fever #comfort #my writing #i say things #people are hooting and hollering distantly outside rn. it's like 10pm on a wednesday.#anyway. feels good to be back writing. hopefully will be able to finish the card this month #we will see. i do have a bit to do for yknow. school. but im hopeful #ok i have to go do reading now. byeeee <3

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footballffbarbiex · 2 years

Text

Riding Shotgun Teaser.

Player: Antoine Griezmann Words for the snippet: 1018 Type: Consensual non-con (CNC) Warnings for the rest of the chapter: abduction (feels like a strong word but i think it's accurate), fingering, blow jobs, unprotected sex, breeding threat. More warnings to come when I actually finish this and know what the hell I've written.

A/N: I didn't think anyone was actually going to go for this prompt on the bingo card so I decided to write something myself for myself. But since the first teaser went down well (please let me know if you'd like the rest of uninvited brought here), I thought I'd share this too. I've not finished it so I'm struggling to think of what warnings but yeah.

no tag list incl with this as I don’t know how the tag list would feel about a darker fic.

You are responsible for your own consumption, especially if proceeding to read a piece which has warnings not to your tastes. Don’t like, don’t bitch.

You stand shivering at the bus stop and try to gain some warmth, now regretting the skirt you wear. Several others are here with you, only they’re huddled beneath the shelter or the roof of it. Rain pelts down, hitting your umbrella and pouring to the floor where it bounces from the pavement. The air smells heavily of the fresh rain and the possibility of a storm; occasionally you get a hint of a vape or actual cigarette. Water rushes along the roadside, flushing over the overwhelmed drainage grates and sprays from passing car tyres.

Cars, cyclists, motorcycles and buses, which weren’t the ones you needed, pass in steady, consistent streams. The rain has washed the cars from their previous muddy glory and variations of “clean me, I’m so dirty” writings written with fingertips are now barely visible. Cars now appeared shinier, brighter, cleaner, especially in the reflections as you stared at the rain soaked pavements.

The last thing you wanted was to be late but today was not going your way. You got out of work late thanks to a meeting which overran tremendously, followed by time passing far more quickly than you seem to have. Each blink seemed to take another ten minutes from you. You’d asked your boyfriend not to order the takeaway before you were close, not wanting it to be cold by the time you sat in front of your plate.

Stepping out of the way for those wanting to step aboard the bus, you pause to pull your phone from your pocket and check the notifications before stuffing it back in, not wanting to test the waterproof feature. It’s not until the bus pulls away that you turn and look around, realising now that you’re the only one left here.

It’s not until your eyes come to rest on the board that you realise you’re half a block away from the bus stop to take you to your boyfriends and that this one takes you to work. Rubbing a hand over your face, you groan that you’ve moved on autopilot rather than thinking rationally. And with a sigh, you cross the road and begin to start walking. You skip over a puddle or two, not knowing if they’re shallow or water filled potholes that you don’t fancy taking a dip in, and pull your earphones from your pocket and pop them into your ears. It’s not until you reach the other side that you unlock your phone and begin to select a song while you wait for the bus.

This time, the bus stop here is empty, though more people are walking past this one. Fries from a takeaway box have been dropped on the floor and haven’t yet been gobbled up by hungry city pigeons, several empty cans and half filled beer bottles rest against the back of the shelter. It smells overwhelmingly of urine, making you want to deliberately stand out in the rain instead and question the contents of the bottles themselves. Bus stops have now become the new phone boxes to relieve yourself after a night out and can’t make it home in time. You're too busy mentally cursing yourself for not ordering an Uber when someone speaking catches your attention. It takes you a second or two to realise that the voice speaking is trying to speak to you and not someone else who may be passing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” You flush as you find yourself looking at the face of a man in, what appears to be in his mid twenties. Soft yet fluffy curls fall beneath his ears, pale blue eyes are framed by long dark lashes. Lips curve into a Cupid’s bow and a light stubble darkens his cheeks and jaw. Removing one earphone, you apologetically give him a smile and gesture to the music. “And I thought you were speaking with someone else,” you admit as you shift from foot to foot and adjust your umbrella as it props against your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” a smile reveals pearly white teeth and a dimple that pops on one side. “I asked if you wanted a ride. Or a lift to somewhere close by? The service is suspended, it looks like you’re waiting for a bus.” He gestures with two fingers, palm facing upwards as he explains and your gaze lingers a little too long on the two outstretched slender fingers. Immediately your mind heads to the gutter and you mentally imagine the way this strangers' fingers would feel inside of you.

Shame floods you as you remember the very reason that you’re even standing at this bus stop - a single bus ticket away from going home to your long term boyfriend who would not appreciate you envisioning someone else’s fingers deep inside of you and coaxing an orgasm from you. Pulling yourself away from the crude thoughts and swallowing as you refocus on the board, you can see that the next few buses are indeed suspended and delayed. With more services going on strike with a bank holiday weekend approaching, you should have anticipated this and checked earlier but the rush of the day had pushed this far from your mind.

“Going home?” He asks, blue eyes burning into your skin.

“Well, not to mine, no.” You reply. “But yes, somewhere for the night.”

“Lucky them. Or you could wait.” He suggests, “if you prefer waiting for a bus that might not come, in the rain. And cold.” he adds as your knees begin to dance as you shiver. Your eyes are scanning the possible time frame that you’d be waiting and because of this, you don’t see the way the stranger looks over you, drinking in your bare thighs right down to your sturdy boots before dragging his gaze back up to your skirt and pausing there a little longer than necessary until he sees the way you turn back to you, and forces his eyes to fix on your face once more.

“A ride would be great.” You answer after a long pause, really weighing up your options.

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nocompromise-noregrets · 1 year

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tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Big thank you to @verecunda for the tag! <333333

Three ships: Bard/Thranduil (watch this space over at @bi-widower-dads for the prompts for Barduil Month 2023!), Gawain/Galahad (King Arthur 2004), Legolas/Imrahil

Last song: Let me check my phone...ah, it was Children of the Revolution by T-Rex, on the way home yesterday afternoon. Meanwhile, Into the West from the RotK soundtrack has been going round and round my head this week and I think it's unjammed Break You But You'll Mend, so there's that :D :D :D

Last movie: We watched something on Netflix at the weekend but I'm stuffed if I can remember what it was. Some daft fantasy thing...oh yeah, it was Inkheart! Very clunky but rather enjoyed it and Andy Serkis was great. Also features Helen Mirren riding a stolen motorbike *and* a unicorn, so yeah. \m/ \m/ :D

Currently reading: Technically I'm still on my reread of Fellowship that I started in September, but I haven't actually touched it in weeks. Course books, mostly. I will be very pleased when this one's over.

Currently watching: Well, we mainlined the new series of Unforgotten last night, we're giving Beyond Paradise a go, everything else has finished except Endeavour which we need to catch up with. Also Daisy Jones and the Six is finally on Prime today so I need to go and mainline that later too. aaaaa! I loved the book so much, and I've really been looking forward to the series.

Currently consuming: Coffee, and one of those fizzy multivitamin things that you put in water.

Currently craving: Sleep. Time off work (one more week and then I have two weeks off). The mental energy to write.

woohoo! Entirely no-obligation tags go to @myeaglesong, @herawell, @scary-grace, @writerman, @tinnurin, @mihrsuri, @sallysavestheday, @spiced-wine-fic and @lemurious <333333

#tag game

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drabsyo · 1 year

Note

Ooohh English isn't my 1st language, too, so I'd rather not attempt writing at all lol... but I leave prompts for the awesome writers and let them weave their magic. 😊 This is 600k anon, btw. Sorry for the flood of messages the past few days (weeks?)... but here's another one since I just found out today's "International Fanworks Day"... I very much appreciate and dearly treasure your all amazing artworks, especially Cissamione. Thank you for so generously sharing them with us. 😊💖

Hey 600k anon!! I told myself I'd answer your asks last because I just wanted to save your asks for last so I can savor answering it (idk if that makes sense 😂), but I couldn't help it! I'll answer all the asks you've sent me, even if you might not end up seeing it because it's been so long and for that, I'm really sorry :(

Thank you for letting me know that, it really means a lot to me ❤ And learning English is a lifelong journey for me for sure 😂 it might be the reason why I've never really managed to finish writing a long fic, but then again I've never really written a story in my own language either so LOL

#anon my beloved #600k anon #cissamione #drabsttuff #more anons to answer :))

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invisibleraven · 1 year

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All at once everything is different

Written for the Year of the OTP challenge prompt: Whenever I look at you...

So when I saw the list of prompts for the OTP 2023 challenge, I decided that I wanted to participate. My plan is to write a short little fic every month using one of the prompts. I am definitely going to go through different pairings, because I am not one to play by the rules, but I had to start the year out right with my true OTP; Rulie!

AO3 Link!

Reggie groans as his loud alarm clock blares, and he fumbles for the button, slamming his fist down on it to make the incessant beeping stop. “Alright already, I heard you, I’m not deaf,” he grumbles. Easing himself up and stretching, feeling his joints pop. He slides his feet off the bed, finding his slippers with minimal effort and whistles. Ellie trots up beside him, licking at his hands, and he gives her head scratches in return.

He goes through his routine, coffee and toast before a shower, then into his favourite outfit. He has a date with Julie today, and she had commented how good he looked in it a while back, so he sticks with it. The flannel is a little worn, but super soft, and he likes how the rips in his jeans keep him from getting overheated.

Soon enough, he and Ellie are on the move, and Reggie smiles as the cool ocean breeze ruffles his hair and tickles his face. He can smell the salty air and the sugar as the cotton candy stall opens up. He’s tempted to stop and get one, but Julie will know and they have lunch plans.

He keeps going, Ellie trotting by his side, her harness firm in his hand as the noon day sun starts to warm him through. “Beautiful day for a date with our favourite girl right El?”

Ellie just barks in reply, but that’s enough for Reggie.

“Reggie!”

He can’t help but smile when Julie’s voice reaches his ears, quickening his pace to reach her all the faster. She giggles when she’s in his arms, letting him twirl her around and then pull her into a kiss, warmer and brighter than the LA sun.

“Hey gorgeous,” Reggie whispers as they pull apart. “Missed you.”

“We had a date two days ago!” Julie says, then leans down to pet Ellie who had been panting patiently at their sides.

“Too long,” Reggie declares. “How much longer until your lease is up again?”

“Three months and you know it,” Julie replied, linking their elbows. “Now come on, I’m famished.” She starts pulling him down the sidewalk, going on about the new dim sum place that opened up.

“You’re not gonna try to make me use chopsticks again are you?” Reggie groaned. “You know I’m useless with those things darlin’.”

“Unless you’re making yourself into a walrus,” Julie snarked and Reggie offered a sheepish smile. “No, we can use forks.”

The rest of the walk was filled with Julie catching him up on school, lamenting her Curriculum prof who was a harsh grader and rather unhelpful when needed. “Thank goodness this is my last semester,” Julie said with a sigh. “Then I get to go through the fun of job hunting.”

“Don’t play, I know the school you did your internship with already offered you a spot for the fall,” Reggie teased. “Those kindergarteners aren’t gonna know what hit them.”

“How’s the podcast going?” Julie asked.

“Not bad,” Reggie hummed. “We just finished editing the episode last night, so it should be out soon. Luke is pretty stoked about this one, he even wrote a song for my character to sing.”

“Luke and his songs,” Julie said. “That boy is a rock star in his soul no matter what.”

“I keep telling him to send his songs to a label but he says he’d rather use them for us and share them for our subscribers. After everything… he doesn’t think he can be a star.”

“You all could be,” Julie replies, “You all play, Luke’s songs are so good. You could be legends.”

“I’m happy enough as I am,” Reggie says and presses a kiss to her temple. “Here with you and Ellie.”

“Charmer,” Julie whispered, pulling him for a sweet and simple kiss. “We’re here by the way.”

The bell over the door chimed as they entered, a host greeting them. “Oh I’m sorry, we don’t allow anim- oh, my apologies. Let me show you to your table.”

“You in a spicy mood today?” Julie asked as they were sitting at their table, Ellie sitting by Reggie’s feet near the wall so she was out of the way.

“Always with you gorgeous,” Reggie replies, giving her a crooked grin.

Julie stifled a giggle and told their host what they wanted, plus a request for forks. All the while the toe of her shoe caressed his ankle, a small loving touch. Or showing she was also in a spicy mood which meant good things for Reggie that afternoon.

The food was delicious, just the right amount of spice that it was hot but not overpowering. Julie probably could have handled more spice, given her heritage, but Reggie was happy enough with a lower Scoville count.

Before long they were back outside, and Julie linked their arms once more. “Walk it off then back to yours for a snuggle?” she proposed.

“Sounds divine angel.”

They had just entered the boardwalk when Reggie heard them.

“Look at that babe!”

“Yeah, and the freak who can’t even see what a fine piece she is!”

“Doesn’t deserve something he can’t appreciate.”

“Hey baby, why don’t you ditch the dog and come walk with a real man?”

‘Ignore them,” Julie whispered, snuggling further into his side, but their pace picked up as the idiots hooted and hollered at her.

But Reggie couldn’t ignore them.

Sure, it hadn’t been the first time he’d heard whispers about him and Julie. About how he had landed and kept her. Or the sneers when he, Luke, and Alex went anywhere together. His whole life, people had talked about him behind his back, and each cutting jab stayed with him. But this time.. For some reason, it caused him to doubt. He was sure there was a sullen expression on his face as Julie pulled him inside the house, sitting him down.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren't you?” she asked, not needing to clarify, and Reggie nodded. “Why cariño?”

“What if they’re right?” he asked, his voice a miniscule whisper. “What if I don’t deserve you?” A small sob escaped. “Julie you’re gorgeous and I’m…”

“You stop that right now Reginald Peters,” Julie said, laying a finger over his lips. “Do you know what I see whenever I look at you?”

“A loser in dark glasses who can’t even see you?”

“No. I see your kind heart,” Julie replied, laying her hand over his chest. “Your brilliant, creative brain,” a kiss to his forehead then, “your strength and passion,” each fingertip received the caress of her lips, one by one, “those adorable freckles,” Julie nuzzles their noses together, and gently takes off his glasses. “And those eyes, the colour of springtime. I know that means nothing to you, but I always feel alive when I see them. I see you Reggie. Not your blindness, not whatever else you think you lack. Just you, the man I adore, who loves me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Reggie lifted his hands, cupping her cheeks. Felt a stray tear and swiped it away. Let his fingers trace over the shape of her brow, the scrunch of her nose, the bow of her lips, the soft curve of her jaw. “I see you too,” he whispered before pulling her into a kiss. It was deep and lush, almost all consuming as their mouths met, tongues dancing around each other before growing smaller, to a peck, a series of pecks before finally pulling away. Reggie rested his forehead against hers. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m thankful everyday for you.”

“I’m thankful for you too,” Julie said, running her fingers through his hair. Ellie whined and placed her head on his knee, causing them both to giggle and pet her. “And we’re both grateful to you girl.”

Reggie unclipped Ellie’s harness and vest, letting her dash about the room, laughing when she brought him her favourite ball. He turned to Julie then, smiling wide. “You wanna help me tire her out so we can snuggle uninterrupted?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Julie opened up the backdoor, and shooed them both outside, stopping to adjust the picture of the boys on the wall; Reggie in his shades, Luke in his wheelchair, and Alex with his hearing aids on full display, signing something to the photographer. She lingered on Reggie, his wide, happy grin, and then turned to the yard where it was out in full force once more.

“Come on Julie!” he called, and she went off running. She wanted those snuggles, and maybe after… they could talk about seeing where the future would lead them if she broke her lease just a few months early. She knew Reggie was her future, and she couldn’t wait to see what it had in store for the both of them.

#my stuff #writing #otp 2023 #year of the otp #fanfic #rulie #julie and the phantoms

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coffeedrgn87 · 1 year

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Blurbs On Writing (2022 Edition)

I had this idea for a little thought compilation about my writing a while back, but I held back, unsure whether I wanted to write it all down. If I am honest, the thought of sharing something personal scared me, and still does. Today, I decided that I do want to look back on my writing exploits over the past year and add my observations. These will be at random, and I'll note them down as they come into my head. You can find the list after the break.

I enjoy writing for someone (I like the challenge), and teasing the recipient with excerpts or talking about their idea with them makes me so happy. There's something special about sharing a piece of my writing with someone or dedicating it to a particular person. Unfortunately, I don't get to do this nearly enough, and my anxiety makes it difficult to reach out to people. Occasionally, I'll jump over my shadow and ask, but it takes a lot of effort, and most of the time, I do not have the energy.

I guess not many people like reading unfinished or WIP multi-chapter things, and I understand why it doesn't work for some folx, but I've discovered that I love writing this way. It's hard for me to withdraw into a corner, quietly work on something long, and only share it once it's completely done. I don't know how other writers feel about creating their work and/or sharing it as they go, but my personal perception is that even if an author posts a chapter a week or every other day, the work is usually already finished. I may be entirely mistaken, so don't consider this opinion etched in stone. For me, writing a chapter and sharing it is thrilling. The anticipation of being able to share an update, the readers' excitement, and potential interaction via comments/messages. I thrive on that. It often lets me incorporate ideas, tweak future chapters slightly, or sometimes change course entirely.

I absolutely adore one-word prompts. There's something magical about building a short story around a prompt. Sometimes the story is centred around the prompt; other times, it's just a support, an aid. Whichever it is, it's always exciting. I particularly enjoy noun prompts, though I don't limit myself in that regard. The way these tiny prompts spark an idea is magical, but it's also frustrating when you stare at a prompt and draw a complete blank. Especially when that uninspiring prompt is part of a challenge.

Describing scenes, particularly outdoor scenes such as a forest, a meadow, a cave, or a beach (to name but a few), is such fun. I like painting a pretty picture, going into detail about what's happening, what can be seen, how things smell, what they look like... It's not been a big focus for me before, but in 2022 I really made it my priority, and I feel it's elevated my writing. I've had a few lovely comments from readers who enjoyed it, so I guess I'm on the right track.

Smells and tastes are a delight to describe, and I first dipped my toes into making that a priority when I took part in a fest in 2020, but it took time for me to turn it into a habit. My Google search has since learnt that I like to research these things. Thrilling. Thank you, Google, my trusted research partner.

If I can make it happen, I like it when my characters spent time in the kitchen. Growing up, a lot of life happened in our kitchen (mainly because my dad was a kitchen person, but it's also my inner cat, associating the kitchen with warmth, chatter, and coffee, which awakens the dragon in me), and that shows in my writing. I think I did it unconsciously until I, at one point, added the tag "life happens in the kitchen" to one of my fics on AO3, and now writing scenes in the kitchen has become a staple of mine.

I never thought I might enjoy writing sprints with other people, but for a brief period, I got to try this and found it delightful. It tickled my competitive side. Perhaps I'll dip my toes into that again at some point...we'll see.

I've gotten much better at showing rather than telling how a character feels, and it's become such a joy to add in all those little descriptors that my readers can hopefully identify with when they read my works.

Eyes seem to be something I focus a lot on when describing a person. Eyes are stunning, and I truly enjoy describing them, especially the colour and how it makes the other person feel. Knowing that one of my characters is smiling or laughing or just genuinely happy makes me happy, and I always quietly hope that the same applies to my readers.

I'm no longer all that fussed about writing super-detailed sex scenes. I go there, but in recent months I've found that stripping away some of the details of the actual "this goes there in this way" and replacing it with feelings or a character's reaction gives me much more joy. Perhaps it's loosely related to a recent discovery I made about myself, or perhaps it's just my writing evolving, but I find this interesting. We'll see where this goes. One thing that I'm very sure about, though, is that my love for smut will always burn brightly.

Pets or animals in general. I love including a pet or an animal as a character, especially when I can give them an attitude, a quirk, or something that makes the pet or animal a delight to read. I've invented a few furry/feathery/scaly companions over the past year, and it's something I want to focus on even more. I'd be happy to have 50K of one character + a menagerie of animals, and while I don't know how my readers would feel about that, a writer can dream, can they not?

I don't especially feel like I'm part of my favourite fandoms. This might be a sad revelation, but it's true. While I thrive on making new connections and responding to messages/comments (after all, I am a chatterbug), I sadly am not the kind of person to reach out to people. It takes me forever to decide to take the plunge, and my anxiety always wreaks havoc on every attempt. I no longer feel confident enough to make the first move. I overthink, worry, and convince myself that there isn't a space for me. On a few occasions, it's made me want to stop writing, but I have since learnt not to give in to that impulse. My writing is all mine. It's something I would never give up, not for anyone. Still, not having that sense of belonging makes it hard to connect. I tried for a while, but I just don't have that much strength (for personal reasons, I won't elaborate any further).

Lastly, (and to end this on a positive note) I have learnt not to compare myself to other writers, whether they've been published or whether they're fanfic writers whose works I gobble up like coffee. Occasionally, the feeling still creeps in, but for the most part, I manage to ignore it. To continue to grow as a writer, I need to be able to appreciate without feeling like reading a gorgeous piece of writing makes me want to give up on my own writing. Instead, I allow other works to push me towards doing better.

#coffeedragon writes #my writing #writing stuff #about writing #writing is hard #but it's also joyful #blurbs #self reflection #im a writer #writer's life #being a writer #writers problems #writing

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trippin-over-my-fandoms · 2 years

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Hi I hope this isn't rude but I wanted to ask if you had like a compiled list of all the spacegravity prompts you'd been requested for so we could look forward to reading them

Ah of course! No titles yet and nothing laid out 100% but that's what I'm up to today! This ask has helped me build up a proper list so tysm anon!

Here's what y'all can look forward to! (sort of in order of which I'll probably release first) :

A dinner where they announce their proposal! I started on this one technically with the "Under One Roof" fic, set it up at least... just need to get it done!

Umbrella's and Sparrows as Teens! I had at least three similar requests for this au and I'm looking at combing the ideas! Some are similar in enough aspects I'd almost be writing the exact same thing a bunch of times so I'll be compiling them! Don't worry! I'm gonna work on a moodboard and possibly a "cover" to make up for the individual requests!

NSFW Headcanon/Thoughts list! Currently sitting in my drafts! Just need to finish it!

Solo Sloane NSFW Fic I had an idea for while away.

meeting each other at their lowest points (might end up doing this sooner rather than later- I love angst!!)

Sloane on her first every flight and Luther there as support! I started working on this while away and got a few paragraphs in. Got a few asks to see them on their honeymoon too and while I'm still unsure as to where to take them for that- that could be where they're headed in the fic!

The wedding but everyone is alive! Another one I got a few times and I'll admit I also wanna see what it would be like! Lets just say I'm picturing bridesmaids dresses as I type this. We need a proper wedding party!!!!

Jealous Allison!

Hurt/Sick fic!

Forbidden Love request combined with the request where they meet on individual vacations and have to go home and tell everyone about their engagement! yikes!

the 60s au!

Hopefully I won't keep y'all waiting too much longer!!

#anon #asks #spacegravity #sloane hargreeves #luther hargreeves #sluther #tua s3 #tua #umbrella academy

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rexroar44 · 1 year

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Ok so..

I’ve been getting a bit frustrated at the lack of finished and good Guzma fan fics. I had the idea that maybe I would write one! And then decided, “hey, yknow what would be a great idea? Getting some ideas from a story generator!” And boy was I not disappointed! This perfect fucking mess came from this sight:

now onto the weirdly good at times story that my prompts spat out XD (also in the linked story there are place holder last names and Guzma gender got fucked up, oops!)

The Rain that Hammered like Hugging Garchomp

A Short Story by Rex

Star was thinking about Guzma again. Guzma was a remarkable brute with big hands and built arms.

Star walked over to the window and reflected on his empty surroundings. He had always loved gloomy Po Town with its crazy, calm constant rain. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel happy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a remarkable figure of Guzma.

Star gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a short, angry, tapu cocoa drinker with skinny hands and tall arms. His friends saw him as a soft, slimy short tempered. Once, he had even rescued a stupid Guzma from a burning building.

But not even a short person who had once rescued a stupid Guzma from a burning building, was prepared for what Guzma had in store today.

The rain hammered like hugging Garchomp, making Star hope. Star grabbed a shiny spray paint that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Star stepped outside and Guzma came closer, he could see the curious smile on his face.

"I am here because I want a home," Guzma bellowed, in a good fighter tone. He slammed his fist against Star's chest, with the force of 6549 Gilosiopod. "I frigging love you, Star."

Star looked back, even more hope and still fingering the shiny spray paint. "Guzma, you mean the world to me," he replied.

They looked at each other with conflicted feelings, like two low, leaking Luxray kissing at a very courageous a date, which had industrial music playing in the background and two witty uncles holding hands to the beat.

Star regarded Guzma's big hands and built arms. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Guzma.

"Please?" begged Star with puppy dog eyes.

Guzma looked love, his body blushing like a purring, perfect pokéball.

Then Guzma came inside for a nice drink of tapu cocoa.

#Short story #randomly generated story #Guzma #pokemon #team skull #guzma team skull #Guzma x oc #oc x canon #what has my life come to #This is so funny to be wtf #Sobbing

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favoniuscodex · 2 years

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finals season scenarios [ genshin guys x gn!reader ]

prompt: various scenarios of the genshin guys helping you out during final exam season! modern!au, college!au characters: scaramouche, itto, diluc, dainsleif x gn!reader warnings: typical scaramouche, otherwise none. some of these are cute romance while others are purely comedic. a/n: i finished my finals today so i have time to write this, but i know it's not over yet for everyone! good luck to anyone taking tests <3 i'm proud of you for trying your hardest, no matter the outcome! part 2 w/ kaeya, thoma, zhongli, and childe will be posted if this one does well enough. in case it needs to be said for one of the jokes in this fic, i am gay LMFAO

scaramouche (class subject: economics)

"scara," you look over at your boyfriend enviously as he types away absentmindedly on his phone. in the privacy of a closed study room at the library, scaramouche finally decides to engage in an act of almost-pda, choosing to slouch onto you as you study away for your tests. "scara~"

"huh? what." scaramouche lowers the screen away from his face and looks up at you. "did you want something?"

"i love you," you coo. his eyes narrow and he sits up, removing the warmth of his figure from your frame. indigo eyes bore into you as scaramouche stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to finally confess what it is you want from him.

"do you know anything about economics?" you ask sweetly, hoping your boyfriend will offer to tutor you.

"economics are dumb. supply and demand were created by the government to oppress us. everyone should just pay their taxes and call it a day," scaramouche deadpans, but his expression softens slightly as your shoulders deflate at his words. he hesitates as your attention fixates itself on your notes once more, unsure of how he can help without being too alarming. sure, his own major focused mostly on projects instead of tests, but that didn't mean he had to leave you hanging.

"did you want to talk about what you're studying with me? then i can see if i can help or something." he asks after a bit of a pause, causing you to snap out of your daze and look over at him with wide eyes. you nod excitedly, more than happy to share the misery of your economics notes with someone else.

"i'd love to, scara." you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek before reaching into your backpack and pulling out a textbook. scaramouche clears his throat slightly, causing you to stop in your page flipping and look over at him.

"i love you, too," he grumbles quietly, cheeks dusting with pink. you beam at him with the radiance of a thousand stars and before scaramouche can become awed by how happy you look from those four little words, you pull him into a tight hug.

"i know you do! now let's suffer with economics together!" you say and scaramouche wonders what exactly he's getting himself into.

itto (class subject: geology)

the flashcards that rest between itto's manicured nails gleam with pretty highlighting and carefully crafted words, clearly written in penmanship that does not belong to your lover. rather, they're flashcards you greedily borrowed from ayaka, who had taken the same class last semester. and now, you and itto have turned the flashcards into a game as he holds up the terms towards you, leaving you to describe what their definition is.

"uh, the periods of the cenozoic are," you pause, racking your brain for answers. "paleogene, neogene, and quarternary!"

itto angles the card towards him, verifying your answer before firmly nodding. "yup! wow, what a bunch of useless information!"

you give itto a pointed look. "i mean, kinda, but i need this class to graduate and, well, if they want me to memorize this stuff i guess i have to."

"graduating is for losers anyways," itto says, currently on the sixth year of his associate's degree. "i mean, who even cares about a bunch of rocks anyways?"

"it's information about the earth," you say, lifting a new card off the unused pile and handing it to itto, who gladly takes it. "besides, don't you have a geo vision anyways?"

"yeah, which makes me a certified earth expert. watch, i can answer this next question!" itto declares, despite not even being in your class. in fact, itto had never quite been in any of your classes. he simply materialized in one of the dining courts freshman year and never left your side, scarring you in the same way the day-old egg salad in the lunch line did.

"alright then," you say, graciously accepting the card as he hastily thrusts it in your direction. "showtime! are you ready?"

itto has never looked more serious in his life. you're a bit concerned. with furrowed brows, he nods resolutely.

"alright. here is the question," you clear your throat dramatically for emphasis. "of the animal genus homo, which species was the first to exist?"

itto stares at you. you can almost see smoke coming from his ears with how hard the gears are turning within. you peek at the answer, shielding it from itto.

"aha, got it!" he cries triumphantly.

"yeah? what's the answer?" you ask smugly, knowing full and well that itto does not study human taxonomy for fun. itto grins at you.

"elton john!"

diluc (subject: computer science)

you unceremoniously drop your backpack by the entryway of diluc's apartment, letting out a tired huff as you kick off your shoes. your boyfriend, who currently sits on the couch looking all-too-comfortable and unbothered for someone also in the middle of studying for finals, looks at you with raised eyebrows. a book rests in his hands, but from the abstract art on the cover and the way it rests perfectly in his lap, you can tell it isn't a class textbook.

after hearing numerous complaints about your noisy neighbors over text, diluc had offered his own place as a study area for you, which you had graciously accepted the offer of. but now, nothing looks more inviting than crawling directly into his arms, especially when the cable-knit sweater he's wearing looks perfect for cuddling with.

you march over to the couch where he sits, dragging your backpack alongside of you, and plop down directly next to him. instinctively, his arm reaches up and loops over your shoulders, pulling you in closer to him. you can already feel your eyelids getting heavy due to the natural warmth he holds from his pyro vision, the coziness of the fabric brushing against your cheek, and the way diluc's cologne makes him smell both luxurious and comforting. but, before you can doze off, diluc breaks the silence between the two of you.

"so, what were you going to work on?" he asks, causing you to groan and look up at him petulantly.

"you're not going to let me take a nap?" you whine, already knowing the answer.

"normally i would, but you came over here to work, right?" diluc looks at you knowingly and you know that he's 1. right and 2. this isn't a fight that you're going to win. so, in the spirit of any typical college student, you do what you do best: you give up. begrudgingly, you pull out your laptop and pointedly flip it open in front of diluc, huffing dramatically as you do so.

you feel diluc's chest rumble faintly with laughter as you continue to lean against it.

"what?" you ask, staring defensively at your coding project that now fills the laptop's screen.

"eighty one compile errors?" he says, staring at you. "i'm no programming expert, but isn't that..."

you stick your tongue out at him playfully, brushing him off. "it's a work in progress, okay?"

dainsleif (subject: psychology)

surprisingly, dainsleif's notes for your psychology lecture are far better than your own. unsurprisingly, they're far lengthier too, along with being barely legible. it doesn't surprise you that he opts for handwritten notes over technology as your boyfriend has always struck you as the type of guy who doesn't like to adapt to the modern world.

sure, you haven't been dating dainsleif for long, but you never really believed him to be the type to be this strict with studying. but, as a psychology major, you suppose this is just dainsleif in his element. everyone has topics that they're passionate about and you suppose this is his. unfortunately, you cannot relate and, in the middle of your boyfriend speaking, you inadvertently zone out, opting to study the baby blues of his eyes instead of listening to the words coming out of his mouth.

"does that assist you in your understanding?" he asks, glancing up from the notes he was reading off of to look across the table at you. you perk up, snapping out of your daze upon the sudden eye contact before nodding.

"yeah! thanks!" you say, albeit a bit too enthusiastically and rushed. dainsleif stares at you, head tilting slightly. he's quiet as he looks at you.

"...my apologies if i am being presumptuous, but were you not listening?" he asks and you feel your heart twinge with the tiniest bit of guilt. your boyfriend is taking the time out of his day to help review the course material with you, but all you can focus on are the new relationship butterflies in your stomach whenever you're around him. you look at him sheepishly, an apologetic grin spreading across your face.

"can we take a break?" you ask gently, inadvertently answering his question. "i'm starting to lose focus."

dainsleif's expression softens and he nods, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

"is something the matter?" he asks, ever the worrier, but you flash him a gentle, sincere smile to appease his nagging thoughts.

"no," you say, honestly. after all, relationship jitters can't really be considered a true problem. "but has anyone ever told you how easy you are on the eyes?"

dainsleif looks at you for a moment, a bit taken aback by your words, before letting out a soft laugh of shy embarrassment.

"i suppose i could say the same for you," he confesses, but quickly clears his throat as his expression flushes with hues of reds and pinks. "nonetheless, i should keep being productive. do you want anything to eat or drink while you take a break?"

"well, there is one thing i want," you say with exaggerated mischievousness before leaning across the table and placing a quick kiss against dainsleif's lips. you giggle to yourself as you watch all thoughts of studying disappear from his brain as you pull away. his gaze stares at you with adoration and, this time, your studious boyfriend decides to take a break as well, leaning in to steal a kiss of his own.

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #itto x reader #scaramouche x reader #dainsleif x reader #axia.writing #writing.itto #writing.diluc #writing.dainsleif #writing.scaramouche

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