#Sunday snippet

[beccawise7]

Sunday thoughts. 💜🖤

[gulliblelemon]

Sunday Snippet

Since I've finally started posting Where the Bilberries Grow, I can go back to posting snippets in order. So. This is from chapter 2.

The shed was locked. Simon tried to keep the dismay off his face. Standing on his tiptoes, Wille peeked in at the window. It was grimy, and covered in cobwebs, and Simon was quite pleased that it wasn’t as pristine as the rest of the house looked from a distance. Sheds needed a cobweb or two in his opinion.

“I can’t see anything,” Wille said, doing a little jump to try to get a better angle.

“Let me try,” Simon said.

A scoff drew Simon’s attention and he turned to Wille, placing his hands on his hips. “What did that mean?”

Wille had the decency to blush, but then he jutted his chin out. “Nothing.”

Simon watched the splotchy pink spread on Wille’s cheeks and all down his neck. “Why can’t I try?”

“You can!” Wille said. “It’s just… You’re not as tall as me. That’s all.”

Simon narrowed his eyes and then stalked towards the shed. His line of sight came just level with the bottom of the window, slightly below where Wille’s had been. But Simon was nothing if not stubborn, so he stood up on tiptoes and craned his neck, just as Wille had done.

[skibasyndrome]

sunday snippet

a canon-compliant post-s3 situation that has Wille so in love it hurts, coming to an Ao3 near you hopefully very soon. sadly I had a bit of a writing break this week, but I hope to get back into it properly soon 💜

Wille gets to taste the smile when he pulls Simon in by the waist. He gets to feel it on his lips as they stumble through the cabin, all the way along the tiny corridor, into the room at the end of it. When Wille sinks back and down against the white sheets - rumpled, tangled, deserted earlier in the morning - , when he pulls Simon down with him, he still basks in it. In the warmth that spreads throughout his body every time Simon presses his smile against Wille's lips, against the corner of his mouth, against his cheek. It’s only then, as he scoots up the bed, one hand tightly clasping Simon’s, that he opens his eyes again. Only as Simon is leaning over him, does Wille allow himself another look, a proper look. He’s never known beauty like this, never known what it’s like to see Simon’s naked golden skin bathed in the glow of summer sunshine. No other time he’s looked at him could’ve prepared Wille for the mesmerizing spectacle of tiny droplets making their way down from his hair, over the sides of his face, over his neck. Some drops catch in the light, as Wille’s breath catches in his throat. He's so pleasantly breathless when Simon covers his body with his, when Wille’s vision narrows down to Simon’s face, his halo of wet hair gorgeously backlit.

[xxnashiraxx]

Sunday Snippet

Thank you for the tags, @khywren, @arzen9, @andromedaancunin, @verbenaa, & @preciouslittlebhaalbae throughout the week!

I have a kinda longish bit from Chapter 22 of WSTFMD coming out on 5/17!! I am hoping I have most of it finished before 5/3, or at least completed, and if I'm done before the target post date and I have all my ducks in a row, I may even try to post early! 💕 Anywho, please enjoy!! I'm indulging in some more vampire blood drinking because I literally cannot resist going too long without it, lol 💗

“In the morning, then?” He asks, his hunger nothing more than a tool to get closer to her that he’d sprung at the chance to utilize. It still gnaws at him, the blood she’d generously supplied yesterday slowly ebbing, but he can last. He’d rather not push, anyhow- he’ll never risk losing it again. The implications of such a thought flit away, filed for later perusal. Or, optimally, buried so he won’t have to think about it again. “Come here, Astarion.” Her voice soothes an ache inside him, quiet and gentle. Seconds slip by as he blinks in surprise, watching her face finally relax. He obliges without another thought, letting her adjust the cushioning under her head as he cages her body beneath him. He doesn’t touch, though it’s difficult to resist the temptation. Fingers splayed out on either side of her long hair, knees inches from each of her thighs, he stares down and waits for her move. “I know you like to be full, but let's make it quick. I’m really tired. I wasn’t kidding about that.” The breathy chuckle that brushes against his lips rings true in her heavy-lidded eyes, sleep moving to claim her. He smirks and nods, body flaring with appreciation when she moves her head to the side. “And behave- no squeezing this time.” “Spoilsport,” He grumbles, enjoying the sound of her weary laugh more than he should. “And darling?” “Hmm?” The sound feels like a dagger, digging deep, and he suffers as it fills the air. “You’re not stupid,” He mumbles, lips pressing to her jugular as he obliges her request and sinks his teeth in with little more than a brief suckle as his introduction. Her inhale sharp, her body jerks before relaxing, and as her blood floods his mouth and his mind with nothing but her, he dismisses the persistent sentimentality that keeps cropping up at every opportunity. Why can’t he just take a few sips and be done with her? It’s almost nauseating… He pulls the reins back on his usual lapse in self-control, finding it give way to a dull hum in his groin rather than a raging, untamed need. He wasn’t aware he was able to exert this level of obedience before, muting the lust with soft groans that she echoes in quiet, tempered whimpers. He can’t help it when his fingers run up to cradle her head, the whisper of his touch dragging a pleased sigh from her lips. Warmth spreads through every limb, and with forlorn acknowledgement, he recognizes that it’s not just her blood that’s bestowing it upon him.

No pressure tags!! @pinkberrytea @bby-bel-art @caffeinatedmunchkin @bum-dragon @elinorbard @badbloodwitch @justabiteofspite @inkymoonbunny @bloodinwine @anacdoce @nerdallwritey @vividiana @lanafofana @roguishcat @hellethil @bhaal-battle-beer-bard @coyote-mint @bardic-inspo @larvasmoon

[hergrandplan]

Sunday snippet!

Hiiii everyone! I'm back (somewhat) with a new snippet of a new story that I'm kind of scared to post (not the snippet, the fic in general), but I'm also already growing too attached to this particular version of Wille. Soooo here's a little teaser I guess?? and a big thank you to @skibasyndrome who encouraged me to write this story in the first place, ily 💜

He was just fishing out his handkerchief from his pocket to wrap around his thumb when the door opened.

Wille didn't know what he had expected Simon to look like — there had been no pictures of the author online as far as he could find, and Simon Eriksson was too common a name to match a singular profile to.

Anytime Wille had thought about the man, he had pictured someone old and stuffy, gray hair and an ever upturned nose.

He hadn't expected someone of his age, with unruly curls, hovering in the doorway and fidgeting with his hands as if waiting on something.

He probably was waiting on him, Wille realized with a shock, quickly followed by the realization that Wille had been staring at him for the last few seconds, probably longer than what was proper. He was just so young.

"Uh, hi," Wille said, fumbling to get out of his seat while keeping his hand out of view. It probably wouldn't be a great start to the interview if Simon realized Wille was actively bleeding.

"Hi. I'm —"

"Simon, right? You're here to write my biography and all that, I'm Wilhelm," Wille quickly added. Which of course Simon would know, Wille didn't need to tell him that, but Simon was still hovering in the doorway. "But you can call me Wille. There's um, coffee and tea in the corner there, with some cookies and — I mean, you can ask one of the attendants to get it for you actually, but I think you might —"

A soft smile appeared on Simon's face, and Wille could almost see the tension disappear from his body. Well, if his awkward stumbling was good for at least something, he was glad that it was for sucking the tension out of the room.

"Thank you, but I can get my own coffee," Simon said, heading straight for the table the palace staff had set out for them earlier. Wille watched as he poured himself a cup and tucked a stray curl behind his ear.

Simon looked up at Wille then, eyebrows raised in a question. Wille was still just standing there, not having moved a single muscle the entire time.

He quickly sat down in his chair again, and pushed his hair out of his face. He really was due for a haircut.

Wille took a deep breath, "So," at the same time that Simon said, "Shall we —"

Simon's sentence broke off, and they looked at each other for a second before Simon started laughing again, and Wille couldn't help but join him.

"Great start to the interview," Simon joked, his eyes crinkling at the corners, shining in the sunlight. Kind eyes, Wille thought. He has kind eyes.

[caramelpenguin]

Sunday Snippet

Wille's mouth lingers on him for a moment longer - a soft, final kiss to the inside of his thigh - before he sits back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and unreadable.

Neither of them moves. The air between them is too fragile, like a bubble that might burst if either says the wrong thing.

Simon drags in a shaky breath and laughs, a little helplessly. “Fuck.”

Wilhelm's mouth twitches at the corner. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely.

[bananaheathen]

sunday snippet

I simply must share this, in honor of Zouis and as motivation to get this Mates prequel finished. So, without further ado, here's an excerpt from the upcoming On the Island of Misfit Boys:

“No, that’s the point. I have to submit it,” he whines. “I haven’t got anything else finished that’s the right dimensions.”

“Yeah, but… I mean, you’ve got paint,” Louis suggests. “You could make something else.”

“And do what?” Zayn prods. “Hand it over to them wet, and just pray they don’t smear it with their rich people fingers?” 

“Alright,” Louis sighs. “So then, you wait until next—”

“No,” Zayn cuts him off again. “Because by next year, I’ll have been out of school too long to qualify for the program at all. By next year, I’m just a sad, nobody aspiring artist… I’ll be 27, with no money, and no prospects. I’m already a burden to my parents.” He bites his lip for dramatic effect. “And I’m frightened.”

Louis crinkles his brow, somewhere between amused, annoyed, and defeated. He looks over Zayn’s shoulder at the piece again. “Well,” he cocks his head to one side. “I mean, I really don’t think it’s bad, Zed. It’s… s’interesting.”

“Interesting,” Zayn repeats, the word turning in his chest like a knife. “Why don’t you just slap me across the face?”

Louis sighs again, tilting his elegant chin up to the ceiling in that way he does when he’s nearing his limit. (Zayn had learned this boundary when they’d been roommates at university. But it’s never stopped being pretty to look at.) “You’re being dramatic, Zed.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “Yes, hello, welcome.” He gestures at himself. “Have we met?”

Louis laughs aloud as his irritation evaporates off him, and Zayn can’t help feeling pleased. It isn’t exactly the victory he needs at the moment, but it’s a victory nonetheless.

“Alright,” Louis concedes at last. “What do we need to do about this? Because I know you’re brilliant, and I’m fairly sure somewhere in there you know you’re brilliant, and we’re meant to meet Nialler at The Old School Yard in under an hour, and you’re not even dressed. And not to put too fine a point on it, but I really, very urgently, need to end tonight under that bartender who’s promised to prove to me that he can tie a cherry stem in a double knot with his tongue. Which means, I should’ve started drinking about—” Louis checks his wrist, glaring at the watch he isn’t wearing, “—fifteen minutes ago.”

“Ugh, babe,” Zayn frowns, momentarily distracted. “What’ve I told you? Anyone who’s bragging to pretty strangers about having trained their tongue to tie knots is going through something tragically horny.”

“Yes, hello,” Louis snorts. “Welcome. Have we met?”

Zayn shakes his head ruefully. He knows it isn’t his responsibility, really, who his best mate goes home with. But after witnessing almost a year of Louis Tomlinson in his depressed slut era, Zayn’s beginning to lose sight of the future he’d dreamed up for them when they were 18. One where the two of them were destined to take London by storm, side-by-side — them against the world, into eternity. He grasps Louis’ jaw in his hand like it’s his last hope. “You’re better than a sloppy, after-hours rim job, LouLou.”

“Am I, though?” Louis challenges, attempting to squirm free of Zayn’s hold, and undoubtedly regretting it when it only makes Zayn squeeze tighter, squishing Louis’ forward cheeks adorably. “Regardless,” he continues through smushed lips, “I believe we’re gathered here today to talk about your self-confidence, Malik. Not mine.”

[piebingo]

Sunday snippet

This is from a new little something, which I hope I can get the first chapter out soon. Second chance love type of thing.

It’s the sweater that makes Simon move, walking closer to where Wilhelm is still frozen.

“Hey.”

His eyes roam over Wilhelm, taking everything in. He’s so different, his face sharper, more angular, and his eyes calmer even when they don’t seem to know where to settle on Simon. He has to tip his head back farther than before to look up at him and Simon’s eyes catch a hint of stubble on his chin.

But above all, he’s still the same. Underneath all of the differences and the years that have passed still stands Wille. Not Wilhelm, and certainly not the Crown Prince —though that person hasn’t existed for more than a year now— but Wille. The one that used to be his.

“Hey.” His voice is deeper but as gentle as Simon remembers. “You’ve— you got a haircut.”

It’s so familiar, yet so different. Simon wants to cry. He doesn’t, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth instead.

[bigalockwood]

Sunday Snippet 👻

From the final chapter, actually genuinely finally coming next week.

When Wille looked back up at Simon, his eyes were still empty and unseeing.

“I killed my own brother.” All the emotion that had been missing from it before made Wille’s voice tremble now.

[tideswept]

Sunday Snippet

was i hoping to have this chapter up last Saturday? hahaha... y...yeah. am i posting a snippet a week later? also yeah in my defense you DID get a wolf-wan oneshot pls don't kill me

snippet from chapter 2 of count me out like sovereigns aka berry writes assassin obikin because the plotbunny will Not Leave Her Alone

---

“You should rest,” Obi-Wan said, as if Anakin weren’t a live wire ready to snap and sear the air with everything he was trying to swallow down. “It’s impressive you haven’t passed out yet.”

That drew Anakin’s attention. “Why? Did you drug me again?”

The look he received in return made him itch to throw the knife.

“No, darling, but you did lose a good deal of blood. And from the look of those eye bags, you haven’t had a damn lick of sleep in days.” The Negotiator sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. He wasn’t exactly looking well-rested himself. “I don’t think I need to remind you that while we’re on neutral ground, you have nothing to fear. Misgivings or not.”

“I’d have fewer misgivings if you’d tell me why the hell you did this.” Anakin was exhausted. Now that it had been brought up, it was impossible to pretend his eyelids didn’t weigh a hundred pounds each. His body, now that it was warm, fed, unchained, decided it was done.

Sleep, eat, piss when you can. In that order. Always the priority, because that was survival. 

Obi-Wan moved toward the door. “How about a trade?” His voice was an infuriating blend of reasonable and indulgent. “You sleep, and I’ll tell you why. All of it. From the start.”

Anakin didn’t like that. Didn’t like that at all.

“Are you leaving?” That came out harsher, more panicky, than intended. Suddenly, the promise of answers was less important than—

Obi-Wan paused, his back to Anakin, fingers curling around the doorknob. For a second, it looked like he might say something because they’d both heard it. The fear. The don’t leave me alone that Anakin hadn’t let himself acknowledge since he was nine.

“We both need new clothing,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “And I’d like to confirm with the hotel that they understand you didn’t take shelter here knowingly, so any penalty is mine to handle. Sleep well, Vader.”

The door clicked shut. 

[beccawise7]

That's it.

You're worth everything.

Remember that. ✌️

~beccawise7💜🖤

[gulliblelemon]

Sunday Snippet

I have survived the last week and a half! (Somehow). And I come bearing a snippet from a now completed, slightly-longer-than-it-was-supposed-to-be 'experimental oneshot'. I just need to edit the mess offline mode made of my document, but hopefully I'll get to share it soon. (People following the progress of the childhood friends fic will also be pleased to know that I've been working on that too.)

-

With intent, Felice chucked the cardigan she was holding in her hands at Nils. He squawked and lifted his arms to protect himself, spilling water everywhere in the process. “What the fuck was that for?” he cried, shaking his wet hair out of his face and laying the glass down on the table. “Fuck’s sake, Felice. I’m all wet now.”

“You asked Simon?” she demanded, rounding the table and sitting down in the armchair opposite them.

Nils wiped his hands on his t-shirt and sent her a scathing look. Very used to Nils, Felice just glared back at him until he sighed. “Yes. I asked Simon. So what?”

“So what?” Felice’s voice went shrill and Wille felt like he might be missing something.

“Yeah,” Nils said. “So what.”

“So,” Felice said, slowly and deliberately. “Simon is off limits.”

Nils scoffed and leant back into the sofa again. “Not any more, he’s not. He got rid of the dead weight didn’t he? Free as a bird. And therefore back on the table.”

“Nils,” Felice said, her tone warning. And then, for some reason, her eyes very pointedly moved to Wille and back to Nils. “That wasn’t why he was off limits.”

[skibasyndrome]

sunday snippet (slightly nsfw)

writing has been kind of challenging again recently, but I've been trying to make some progress with my beloved requested spa wilmon. sooo for self-motivational purposes: have a little sneak peek of Wille struggling

Wille’s gotten massages before, plenty of them. So this shouldn’t be a problem.

It should be the opposite of a problem, he should be relaxing, should feel the tension drain out of him, should feel relief at the hands working on the tightness of his muscles. But he’s failing, he’s failing so hard. Nothing about this feels relaxing at all. Every slide of Simon’s slick hands over his back reminds him that he’s currently very naked. With a very, very pretty man touching him. And that that is a creepy thought to be having when you’re just getting a fucking massage. But surely he can make it out of this alive and without being a weirdo about it. He can think about other things, about something else, anything else that isn’t the fact that Simon’s pressing into Wille’s skin right where it makes Wille clench his teeth in order not to let out a noise he knows is going to sound embarrassing. Simon really, really knows what he’s doing.  Which he has to, goddammit, Wille reminds himself. He has to, because this is his job, he’s a professional and that is all there is to this. Wille presses his eyelids shut so hard, he feels a little sting in his head. Not very relaxed of him.

When Simon digs both thumbs into his traps, right where they run up his neck, Wille fails to bite back a whimper. When he feels the hands slide off his back again, he’s more than glad to be face down with his burning cheeks hidden from view. How has he never thought about the sounds he lets out during a massage before? Simon clears his throat and Wille’s ears perk up. “Uhh," he sounds a little unsure, a little strained. Wille wants to sink into the floor. "You should try to keep breathing, otherwise you’re just gonna tense up more.” He runs an oiled up palm over Wille’s shoulder blade, maybe in a comforting, soothing way, but Wille thinks the soft touch might be even worse than Simon digging the heel of his hand into his muscles. He hums in agreement, not trusting his voice to come out in any way that is helpful. Of course Simon would notice that Wille is clenching his teeth through this fucking massage. There’s only hoping that he’ll never find out that Wille is embarrassingly, horrifyingly half-hard under that flimsy towel that’s wrapped around his hips.

[hergrandplan]

Sunday Snippet

Since i JUST finished chapter 1 of Breaking Beds properly and sent it to to my lovely friend to read it ... I think it's only fair I post the first few paragraphs right? (Which i hope I haven't posted yet. And if not... oh well!)

Wille didn't mind his life most of the time. Sure, if Jan-Olof came up to him tomorrow and told him that he could step down if he wanted to, he wouldn't even think twice. If someone had asked him if he'd wanted to be Crown Prince in the first place, he probably would have said no, thank you. But sometimes things happen and brothers die and people become Crown Princes at 16 years old, and have no other future than the one mapped out for them already.

Wille didn't always like it, but he had learned to live with it instead of loathe it. Over the years, days had become easier to get through, and the desire to run away had left him a long time ago.

Well, most days, at least.

[caramelpenguin]

Sunday Snippet

“Is he your boyfriend?”  Wilhelm’s head snaps towards the little girl, sitting opposite her parents, who jump in surprise. He places the last plate of desert, a delicious sticky toffee pudding, on her side before standing and straightening himself. “Um- who?” “The pretty one,” she says, pointing to the other side of the restaurant, where Simon is leaning over a table. “With the curly hair.” He is quite certain Simon would kill him if he heard this conversation. He looks at her parents, who are apologising through their eyes. “No, he isn’t.” “Then why do you keep staring at him?” He blushes. “I don’t.” “You do.” “No, I don’t.” She beckons him down, and Wilhelm internally grumbles before lowering himself so she can whisper in his ear. “I saw you trip over and almost drop the plates when he looked your way. You looked really funny.” Wilhelm makes sure that Simon does not interact with table twenty-two for the rest of their meal.

[oneofthosebells]

Sunday snippet

From untitled tattoo artist!Simon x drunk!Wilhelm fic (nearly finished, but I've put it on hold to try and get the next chapter of Incognito Mode out a bit sooner.)

-

“If I wait until I’m sober they’ll talk me out of it.”

“Yes,” says Simon pointedly, even as he wonders who ‘they’ might be. “That’s why we don’t do it.  Tattoos are kind of permanent, we do like people to be sure.”  It’s not the only reason, but somehow he doesn’t think Wilhelm is going to take in a lecture about how alcohol thins the blood and makes tattooing more difficult right now.

“I just want…”  He leans on the front desk, resting his weight on his forearms, his eyes pleading where they’re fixed on Simon.  Simon swallows, his mouth suddenly dry for some reason.  “I just want something they can’t cover up or hide away, you know?  Something that’s mine.”

There’s a strange atmosphere that’s settled over them, the air thick as they look at each other across the desk, the shop so quiet they can hear the roar of traffic on the main road.

Simon swallows again and tries to lighten the mood.  “Okay, but they can cover it up though.”

Wilhelm frowns at him in confusion, head on one side.

“I mean, if you - they - needed to, they could cover a tattoo up with clothes or make-up, or they could airbrush it out of pictures.  Or they could get you to remove it altogether by laser.  It’s—” he nearly says ‘very expensive’ out of habit, remembers who he’s talking to and changes it to “—really painful, but it can be done.”

A pang of regret flashes through him at the way Wilhelm’s shoulders slump in defeat, the light going out of his eyes.

“What tattoo were you thinking of anyway?” Simon asks, partly out of guilt but mainly because actually some inner imp of curiosity does really want to know.

“Okay, right, so…”  Wilhelm gathers himself back up, pulling himself back into the conversation.  He blinks a couple of times as though trying to concentrate.  “Right. So this was my first thought, in big letters all down this arm: ‘Fuck The Monarchy’.”

Simon bursts out laughing.