#i think my problem is that i have too many scenes i want to write and i want to write it perfectly

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 9 (Pt2)

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 9 Pt2 Summary: Reader and Lucien finally get a chance to be alone while the High Lord of Day attempts his hand at subtle match making. However, things don't go according to plan.

Word Count: 9.3k (oops)

Warning(s): 18 + (MDNI), flirting, angst, alcohol use, self-deprecation, low self-esteem/worth, sexual tension (no smut), and nudity.

A/N: Here is the second part. This is a Lucien heavy chapter and was a BEAST overall. But I had so much fun writing it. There are a couple of places where the POV switches suddenly, but I wanted to show each scene from different character perspectives and not have to repeat the same events to do so. Again, thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for her assistance with this chapter start to finish! And thank you to my team of beta readers! You guys are all amazing! Please let me know what you think. This is a slow burn fic, and I hope it's not moving too slowly story wise.

Series Masterlist Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 9 Pt1

During your breakfast of fruits, yogurt, and pastries, Helion informed you and Lucien of Mor’s return to the Night Court. The story he provided was that she had been called away by Rhysand. You knew that was a lie but didn’t understand why Helion would do so. Lucien simply shrugged, not at all fazed by her absence. You knew that he still didn’t quite get along with many of Rhysand’s closest friends and found family. To your knowledge Lucien never joined the ranks of that found family. Never present for the “family” dinners and only stayed for part of the two main holiday celebrations in the Night Court, Starfall and Winter Solstice.

For your first Starfall, Nyx had been just a bit too young to join in on the festivities. So, you stayed at the River House caring for him. After about an hour of supposed celebrations Lucien had joined you. You smiled as you remembered taking turns reading him a bedtime story.

When the Winter Solstice came around, you had opted to stay at the townhouse alone. You claimed to have your own traditions that you wanted to keep. Which was partially true. However, the thought of not being with your own family yet having to witness the happiness of another kept you confined to your bed. Though you had been pleasantly surprised to find the small gift from Lucien on your dresser that morning. It was nothing fancy, just a small blank notebook. The cover consisted of beautiful, pressed pale-yellow chrysanthemums and daisies preserved in a glass window.

Part of you had wondered if the choice of flowers was intentional. So, you had asked Elain if she was familiar with their meanings. She told you they meant friendship and new beginnings. Fitting in so many ways. You returned the gesture a few days later, baking him some of your Grandmother’s famous fudge. He hesitated at first, but eventually accepted the sweet treat.

One of Helion’s hearty laughs pulled you from the memory. You would have to express your gratitude to the High Lord. For the reprieve from being watched. It was a relief to not find Mor outside your bedchamber waiting for you as she had the past few mornings. Now you could have the conversation with Lucien that you’ve wanted to for over a week. You wanted, no you needed to pick his brain for insight regarding your passage through the Prison wards, your confrontation with Azriel, and your dream. He had left so abruptly. You needed to check in on his well-being as well.

Your eyes drifted over to Lucien; the male’s russet eye crinkled at the corner as he joined in Helion’s laughter. The sight took your breath away. The smile was wide on his features. His shoulders didn’t hold the same tension they had the day before. The golden hue of his skin simply radiated joy. In that moment you couldn’t burden him with your problems, despite the pull you felt to talk to him. At least, you couldn’t burden him right now. You knew that you had to talk to him at some point. The confrontation you had with Azriel and Mor’s blatant comments about your time with your best friend weighed heavy on your mind.

“Oh, if the two of you would excuse me,” One of Helion’s attendants righted himself after whispering in the High Lord’s ear. “I have a few things to take care of, but I will see you later this afternoon. If you haven’t had the chance, I would highly recommend a walk through the botanical gardens.” He winked at you and rose from his spot. While you were happy to finally have the time alone with Lucien, you weren’t sure if you’d be up for a walk.

“That sounds lovely,” the Autumn Court male rose from his seat as well, offering his arm. “Shall we, my lady?” You couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled from you. You soon found yourself rising to your own feet, linking your arm with his. How on earth are you supposed to say no to his smile?

Lucien could tell that she was tired. Her steps were slightly slower, and the light tint of blue underneath her eyes hinted that she hadn’t slept. He wondered if her despondent mood was based on the lack of sleep, or if it had to do with Mor's comments. She had been detached for most of their time in the palace and he was having trouble reading her. He had hoped that with Mor leaving her mood would improve. Seeing as that was slow going, he would have to see to it himself that her good humor returned. 

The gentle breeze jostled her hair. The sound of wind chimes echoed across the oasis, nearly drowned out by the sound of the small water fountain at the entrance to the garden. The lush archway was covered in ivy and wisterias. For a fleeting moment he was reminded of the Spring Court, and the gardens that surrounded Tamlin’s manor. He glanced at the human beside him, her eyes glazed over as she took in the scenery around them. A small part of him felt bad for dragging her out here, but they hadn’t really had any time alone together in over a week. All he wanted was some time with her away from prying eyes. 

Of course, separation wasn’t new to them. There had been times when he would be down in either the Spring Court or Mortal Lands for weeks on end. Yet somehow this past week and half felt different. Perhaps, it was because he had remained in Velaris and…he felt guilty for lying to her regarding his whereabouts. Even more so after learning from Ruhn of her sleepwalking incident. He expressed gratitude towards the Midgardian male for being in the townhouse that night. 

A part of him knew he shouldn’t have let Amren’s admonishing comments get to him. Especially after (Y/N)’s breakdown at the Prison. Nonetheless he stayed away. Those comments, coupled with Morrigan’s penchant for observing the truth of matters, perhaps it was high time that new tactics for the woman’s healing journey be explored. He knew Ruhn would be all too willing to help with how tightly he was warped around the human’s finger. Truth be told, the idea of another male sharing her bed didn’t sit well with him. But if Ruhn could provide her with the care and support that Lucien himself couldn’t… He’d have to bite his tongue and express his gratitude again when he asked him to continue to look out for her. 

As they walked towering hedges, ones taller than Lucien, lined either side of the white pebbled path. Every now and again a small alcove would be carved out. Some with seats that allowed you to bask in the sun, others had tables. One even had what appeared to be a canopy bed. Lucien watched her from the corner of his eye as they made their way through the labyrinth.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He questioned as she tried to stifle a yawn. She turned her head towards him, eyebrow furrowed. He could almost watch the gears turn in her mind as she debated on telling him the truth. Her focus continued to fade in and out, pupils dilating and contracting ever so slightly.

“I haven’t really slept since our first night here,” Her face fell with the admission. His heart ached at the shame that filled her voice. Prior to the events at the Prison, she had been doing well. At least well enough that he hoped a few days away would not have taken the toll it did on her. And if the tonics weren’t working; then they truly would need to find alternative solutions to managing her nightmares. 

“With Mor around I didn’t want to risk,” She paused. “I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. The tonic isn’t helping. I think I’ll need to talk to the healers directly to find out if there was a change in the ingredients. Or if it's possible that a person can become tolerant of them.” She looked at him then. A sadness mixed with that lingering shame. 

Lucien kicked himself internally. He really should have told Mor to shut the fuck up regarding her opinions on their relationship, especially if she was going to continue to keep the nature of her own romances a secret. The fact that she was now the second of the higher-ranking members of Rhysand’s court to express their thoughts on his friendship was not lost on him. It was also not lost on him that (Y/N)’s feelings were irrelevant to them. In much the same way that Nesta had been forced out of her darkness, it appeared that the Inner Circle believed themselves superior in knowing when a person needed healing and how that healing should occur. The only difference between the eldest Archeron and their new target was that (Y/N) was not on a path of self-destruction. 

“We should rest then,” He took her hand and interlaced their fingers. “There was a nice area in an alcove just a few paces back.” 

“No Lu, it’s okay,” She tried to protest. “I’m okay, I promise.” Lucien continued his path, gently tugging her along. Despite her words, her body didn’t resist him. 

“Then why do I not believe you?” The resting area was the perfect setting for a nap. Tucked behind a wall of green and under a beige fabric canopy was a large mattress resting on a stone platform. Pillows and blankets of varying sizes were tossed about in a decorative fashion. Knowing the reputation of this court’s High Lord, the bed was probably used for activities that did not involve sleep. However, his companion desperately needed some rest. Nothing would deter his resolve in seeing that she had found a few moments of peace.

“Why does he have a bed in the middle of the garden?” She asked, coming to a halt after rounding the corner of what served as the entryway to the alcove. 

“I’m almost certain we do not want the answer to that,” Lucien chuckled, pulling her along. He sat her down on the mattress and began to remove her sandals. 

“I can do that myself,” Lucien swatted her hands away.

“It's fine,” He made quick work of the straps. “I’m already done.” He placed her footwear to the side and kicked off his own boots, setting them next to hers. Gently, he pressed her back to lay on the bed. His own body followed, hovering over her form for the briefest of pauses, and then he was next to her lying on his side. She rolled over to face him, allowing his arm to drape over her waist before he brought her closer.

“Get some rest,” He encouraged as his hand began to stroke up and down her spine. A soothing gesture he often used to get her to calm down when her mind raced at night.

“But I’m not tired,” She fought another yawn.

“Bullshit,” He chuckled.

“Okay, I’m a little tired,” She relented, tilting her head to look at his face. “But I can’t take a nap right now, not when I have so much to tell you.”

“And what is so urgent that it can’t wait an hour or two?” He smirked. She twisted her arm out from underneath her body and pointed her index finger at him.

“You have to promise that this information is cataloged in the farthest and most well-guarded recesses of your mind,” Her tone was serious. “Rhysand cannot find out, even if there is a good chance that he already knows.”

“I swear,” He tried to match her serious tone, but he knew that his smile was getting in the way. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she swirled her head around, looking for any potential eavesdroppers. Once satisfied, she bent down towards his ear. Her breath puffed against his skin, causing the small hairs on his neck to rise.  

“Rhysand’s story of me being his cousin is very likely true,” She whispered. “There is a secret entrance to the Prison that Bryce pushed me into that day. I was able to pass through the ward, in and back out, with no issue.” Her eyes were conspiratorially bright.

“Is that what made you so upset?” He tried to reign in his mirth. “That you found out you are related to an overgrown bat?” Rolling her eyes, she sighed and lightly smacked his chest.

“No,” Her tone became softer as she laid back down. “I cried because I allowed myself to feel a glimmer of hope, just to have it dashed by a failed portal to my world.” The hand at her back reached up to her face, his fingertips brushing the side of her cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” She gave him a weak smile, brushing off her own feelings as she attempted to shrug her shoulders. “Is that what caused your nightmare?” His hand returned to its previous ministration along her back. Again, she shrugged.

“Could be,” He felt a shiver run through her at whatever memory surfaced. “All I remember is a festering and desolate darkness that tried to drown me.”

“That’s not ominous at all.” She released a breathy chuckle as her eyelids drifted close.

“My dreams are never prophetic,” She explained. “Just weird. It’s more likely my mind’s way of trying to process being cornered by Azriel in the kitchen that night.” Her voice drifted, and if she noticed Lucien’s hand freeze at her revelation she didn’t let on. Lucien felt locked in his anger towards the Shadowsinger.

“What did he want?” His voice was clipped.

“He wanted to apologize,” She buried her face into his chest, and the rising anger settled. “I told him off instead. Nicked his chin with a knife as well.” Her exhalation evened into a steady rhythm, and he resumed running his fingers along her back. The repetitive action soothed his nerves as well.

“Good girl,” She hummed in response. As she finally drifted off into sleep, Lucien’s mind swirled.

 You hadn’t even been asleep for 30 minutes when an attendant came and woke you. Begrudgingly, you and Lucien complied, the male putting your sandals back on for you despite your ongoing protests. The attendant led you back to your room where several dresses were laid out on the bed and hanging in the armoire. Dresses in varying shades ranging from stark white to cream to ivory. Some were speckled in golden accents, others all monochromatic. One dress was entirely golden.

The dress that immediately caught your eye was a simple column gown with thick shoulder straps that seamlessly flowed down to create the bodice. The neckline was low and would reveal an ample amount of cleavage. A braided rope created a beautiful silhouette, cupping the outline of the bodice’s breasts and wrapping around the waist several times over. The attendant informed you that the dresses were yours and for your use in the Day Court whenever you came to visit, along with the room itself. While it was a similar gift to what Rhysand had done, Helion’s offer was not one of apology or self-assigned obligation. The true intent of his action had not been lost on either you or Lucien. Helion’s offer marked a standing invitation, and an allyship if ever needed.

With the help of another female attendant, you had changed into the dress. You had to hide the small blush on your face as you watched Lucien pause when you emerged from your room. The two of you then followed the male attendant through the winding cobblestone streets of the town surrounding the palace. He led you to a large building whose entrance reminded you of the Parthenon in Athens.

Helion was inside, sitting at a long central table. A stack of books piled to his mid-chest. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment paper with a feather quill. You smiled at the sight, but you couldn’t quite place why. His greeting was as warm as always. Excusing the attendant, he gave you and Lucien a summary of the central library’s history. The one you were in currently was the largest library within the Day Court, but it certainly was not the oldest. However, he was confident that whatever information you were looking for on Prythian's early history would be located within its walls. You simply smiled in thanks; you had not yet revealed that you were from another world and looking for a way home. 

 After an afternoon spent searching through books, the last thing you had the energy for was another formal dinner. It almost seemed that the High Lord was aware of your lack of sleep when he offered a much less formal affair. An evening in a small intimate chamber. The center of the room consisted of a square recessed seating surrounding a fire pit. Two walls were lined with books, while a third housed a small selection of wine next to the door leading to the rest of the place. The fourth really didn't exist as it was yet another open entrance to a terrace that overlooked the lands. So many of the rooms were open in this manner, allowing the natural sunlight to fill the space.

Currently you were snacking on bits of herb roasted chicken, plucked off one of the wooden trays of food that lined the edges of the pit, a few were even scattered along the empty seats. In your other hand was a large clear goblet, filled with a deep crimson wine. Helion informed that the batch was made from the palace’s ancient vineyard, a testament to a perfect blend of ancient craft and magic. You had to admit that the wine was the best tasting wine you had ever experienced.

Fae Wine was much sweeter than you had expected. Flavors of dark cherry and bergamot coated your lips and tongue.At first Lucien didn't want you to drink the intoxicant. After plenty of reassurance from Helion, Lucien only warned you to pace yourself. Of course, you didn’t listen, not fully realizing that Fae Wine was much stronger than normal wine. You found yourself with your walls and inhibitions considerably lowered. For instance, if you had drunk regular wine, you wouldn't have been unabashedly staring at your friend for the better part of 15 minutes. Despite his continued conversation with Helion sitting across the way, you could tell he watched you as well.  

“Forgive me for asking,” You sat on your knees, leaning towards Lucien as he sat in front of you. His legs stretched out on the large couch in a relaxed posture. “I know it must be a sensitive subject, but how does that golden eye work?”

“I can see out of it just like my real eye,” He explained, turning his gaze fully towards you. “My friend from the Dawn Court enchanted it, allowing me to see. I have complete control over the device, and it responds and reacts in all the same ways my natural eye does.” Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks burn from your smile.

“Absolutely fascinating,” You crawled over to him, the alcohol preventing you from caring about personal space. You climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and began to examine the contraption. You had never looked at the eye up close. The mechanics were definitely a marvel to behold.

“It does more as well,” He smiled at you, his fingers playing with the ends of the cords holding your dress together. “It has the capability to see through magical deceptions. Glamours, spells, and occasionally lingering traces of magic.”

“How?” You cupped the right side of his jaw, turning his face to get a better look. Accompanied by a faint whirring the pupil of the mechanical eye expanded.

“When there is lingering magic on an object, or even a person,” He began. “The image becomes hazy, out of focus. The eye focuses until the image is clear, which allows me to see the true nature of the object.”

“What do you see when you look at me?” He turned his head forward to look into your eyes. His lips open and shut like a fish causing you to giggle. You gently rubbed your thumbs on each side of his face as you held it.

“I think your boldness has put him at a loss for words,” Helion laughed from his seat across the way. You had forgotten that you weren’t alone.

“He’s spent too much time in those stuffy seasonal courts,” Lucien scoffed at the High Lord’s comment, the puff of air hitting your neck. “Perhaps he needs a proper demonstration on how to respond when a beautiful woman seats herself upon his lap. Care to join me for that demonstration?” The High Lord patted the top of his muscular golden thigh. 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Biting your bottom lip, you started to move off Lucien’s lap. You only managed to move about 2 inches before you felt his warm hands wrap around your hips pinning you against him. Heat bloomed in your core at the friction. His lips curled up in a snarl as he stared at the other male. Helion merely grinned. 

“Oh hush!” You smacked the redhead in the center of his chest, your other hand moving to his shoulder to keep your balance. “He’s joking. We all know that I’m not beautiful.” Your voice became softer as you said the words out loud. Despite your slightly drunken state, you felt the shift in the air as both males practically began to examine you. 

“How would you describe yourself my dear?”  Helion asked. It was your turn to pause. You had never really seen yourself as beautiful, but you also knew that you weren't exactly ugly. 

“Plain,” You hummed, twirling a bit of Lucien’s long hair around your finger in your attempt to feign an air of nonchalance. “Homely, unappealing, just shy of decent.” You rattled off each synonym. Your attention shifted to Lucien as your name drifted past his lips. You unraveled the hair from around your digit. 

“What?” You honestly didn’t understand why he appeared displeased with your statement. “Oh don’t give me that look, Lu.” You playfully pushed his face away from yours, but remained seated in his lap. 

“How should he look at you?” Helion asked, leaning forward on his elbows. The merriment that filled the room was slowly dissipating. “Because from what we see the description you provided for the woman in the room with us is a bit harsh.” Your face flushed with irritation, leaning back and away from Lucien’s chest. Why couldn’t they understand that you had accepted the fact that you weren’t beautiful and just leave it at that? 

“Well for starters I don’t need false praise,” You tried to keep the air light, the following lie floating off your tongue. “It’s not harsh when what I say about myself is objectively true.” You shifted your weight, but Lucien’s hold on your hips was firm. 

“Then by all means,” He waved his hand, smiling as if he had won. “Tell us some of these objective truths.”  

“I’m not conventionally pretty, but there are parts of me that are…nice,” You stated, turning your upper body  to lock your gaze with the High Lord. You square your shoulders before speaking again. 

“Like my legs.” You felt Lucien’s hands drag their way down your hips down toward your thighs. You felt exposed by the soothing circles he rubbed into the bare flesh as the dress’ fabric fell at the slits. The alcohol coursing through your veins gave the impression that his hands were warmer than usual. 

“What else?” Lucien’s voice was barely above a whisper. A reassuring squeeze to your outer thighs sent a scorching heat through you. Your legs tensed and your hands fell to your sides.

“My eyes,” You swallowed, your attention returning to the male underneath you. “I think my eyes are pretty.” As Lucien’s mismatched eyes bored into you, you noticed a fire burning in his russet iris. 

The flame grew as he stared at you, and your heart began to flutter. You watched as his golden mechanical eye expanded and contracted. His lips twitched with unspoken words. Words you were suddenly afraid to hear. His fingers danced around yours, trying to interlock them, but you kept them at your side. You needed to curb this conversation before you were set on fire by the intensity of his gaze. 

“But it has been my experience that when men give me compliments they only do so because they want something from me, not because they genuinely believe their words to be true.” Your head whipped back to the High Lord. “As soon as they don’t get what they want their pretty words turn to ash.” 

“That last one is not objective then,” the High Lord pointed out. “Rather those are the words of scorned human men, not Fae males who understand and see the natural beauty in everything the Mother has created.” Your body felt hot, and you shifted your weight as far from Lucien’s hips as you could. Poised and ready to leave if this conversation continued. 

“I’m sorry High Lord,” Irritation flashing over your senses, causing the filter from your brain to your mouth to momentarily slip away. “But those are just more pretty words.” Lucien’s hands gently followed your body’s every shift with a sense of hesitation to them. You didn’t want to focus on what that hesitation meant. 

“No need to apologize to me dear one,” Helion leaned back in his seat. His honey eyes flashed to Lucien, whose grip on your upper thighs tightened unconsciously. At least you hoped the action was unconscious. You didn’t want to believe that he would ever want to hold you close in what was certainly a compromising position. Hastily, you stood up from your perch on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” The apology tumbled from your lips, and you ignored the flicker of disappointment on his face. “If I made you uncomfortable…I sometimes…I should go. Excuse me.”

“Wait,” Lucien swung his legs to the side of the couch and grasped her hand, desperately trying to interlock their fingers. “Please, love.”

“Let go, Lu,” Her breath was ragged as she gripped the wrist of the hand trying to hold on to her. “Please.” Her fingers slipped through his, and he could tell that something wasn’t right. His eyes fell to her legs, the fabric of her dress parting at the high slits showcasing their shape as she raced for the door. Helion sat up again, watching as she darted past, calling your name as well.

“I didn’t intend for the conversation to upset her,” Helion apologized as the door shut behind her. “It’s a shame she doesn’t see her beauty. She is remarkable.”

“She is,” Lucien continued to stare forward, his voice breathless as his eyes lost focus. “She’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful, yet in a very different sense from your mate. I have nothing against the Archeron girl, but (Y/N),” Helion’s eyes lingered over the space that she hurried from. “She seems much more your speed. Don’t let her go so quickly.” 

“She doesn’t belong to me,” Lucien stated simply. His eyes regained their focus on the male before him, schooling his features in the process.

“Hmm…Then should I see if she’s interested in joining me in my chambers tonight? Worship her like the goddess she is.” Frustration built up inside him, nearly boiling over and  Lucien’s mask of indifference fell ever so slightly. The High Lord raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps not.” 

The two males sat in silence for a few moments longer. The once light atmosphere now dulled in the human’s absence. Lucien could feel the beginning effects of the alcohol on his mind, as he drummed his fingers along his knee. Her departure didn’t sit right with him. The way she spoke of herself. If Helion sought her out, his words and actions may only solidify her beliefs about herself. She should hear it from someone she trusts to be honest with her. Lucien had to make it right. She had to see that she was stunning in her own way.

Abruptly, he stood from his chair and strode over to the wine rack. Grabbing two bottles of Day Court’s best he then stormed out of the room.

“Have fun,” Helion smiled as he watched the door close behind Lucien. “Son.”

Lucien didn’t even bother with knocking on her door when he arrived at her room. With one bottle under his arm, he simply turned the handle and strode right inside. 

“Why must you go and say such things?” He demanded.

“What things?” She was grating his nerves.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“I’d really rather not fight with you Lu,” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we have this conversation when we are both sober? My head is starting to hurt, and I’ve not slept in two days!” She walked over to him, hands wrapping around the fabric of his white linen top. A playful pout danced across her features. Almost instantly the anger drained from him.

“By the Cauldron,” He dramatically rolled his eyes. “How can I say no to that look?”

“You can’t,” She smiled, tucking a stray strand of his hair behind his ear. “You are my best friend here Lucien. I just want to change and relax, preferably by curling up with you on the balcony. The weather is so nice here.” He gently clasped her hand, holding her palm against his lips. 

“As you wish,” He watched as something crossed over her features, but it was gone too quickly for his buzzed mind to process. With surprising grace, she walked over to her luggage and pulled out her nightclothes before proceeding to the ensuite bathing chamber. With the tap water running, he made himself busy by finding glasses and pouring each of them a fresh glass of wine. 

When she emerged, he was lounging on the “L” shaped couch set just at the opening of the bedroom as it led to the balcony. The khaki-colored cushions were plush and soft as he leaned against them. She sat down next to him, and he handed her the glass he poured. She immediately consumed half the glass, before she tucked herself into his side.

The town below Helion’s palace glowed a soft warm golden hue. It almost reminded him of Autumn, with the torches and gas lamps lining the streets of the village nearby the Forest House. Together they drank their wine. His arm over her shoulder, her free hand raised to hold his dangling fingers. They sat like that for a while. They sat for so long that he almost thought she had fallen asleep.

“Azriel thinks you and I are fucking,” Her statement pierced the comfortable silence.

“What?” Lucien nearly choked on the last dregs of his wine.

“Yep,” She emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop of her lips. “Apparently, I am a shameless human whore corrupting the right and virtuous Fae Lord.” She giggled to herself. “Oh! That rhymes!” She lightly smacked his chest in delight.

“He called you a whore?” Lucien could feel his fire just under the surface of his palms.

“No. No,” She took a small sip from her glass. Her eyes still focused on the flickering lights of the town surrounding the palace.

“But there was a clear disapproval of the fact that we share a bed whenever we are together,” She sighed, Lucien’s nod was barely visible as she continued to ramble. “Remember when I told you about how he cornered me in the kitchen? That’s when he insinuated that I must enjoy having another female’s mate in my bed. Apparently, beds are no longer used for sleeping. Just fucking, and since we share a bed that must be all that we do. Fuck.”

That now made three. Three members of the Inner Circle expressed their disapproval of his actions. Already believing that he was not a male of his word. He knew he didn’t have the best reputation after…while living in Spring the past couple centuries. If he had to be honest, he was an absolute rake. So why was he trying so hard to prove otherwise now? He was startled as she let out a dramatic gasp.

“What if that’s the reason my sleep tonics don’t work!” Uncrossing her legs she spun to face him. “What if one of those fucking assholes switched them out? For contraceptives!” Lucien blinked at her a few times, his brain trying to process the near ludicrous statement she had made.

“That is an interesting theory,” He couldn’t hold in his laughter. “But you always fall right asleep after taking your tonic. So how does that fit in?”

“That could be the placebo effect!” Her animated movements caused him to laugh more.

“The what effect?” He laughed. She groaned and slapped her palm against her forehead.

“So, the horrible cliff notes explanation is that my brain had adapted to falling asleep right away after drinking my tonic,” He nodded along even though he had no clue what she was saying. “So, if someone switched it without my knowledge, my brain still thinks it’s taking the same tonic. Therefore, it behaves in the same way by flooding my brain with the “sleepy time” signals. My brain is tricking itself into falling asleep, but the tonic isn’t actually in my system to keep me asleep. I have nightmares because my brain isn’t getting what it had been before.” Her eyes were wide, and if she hadn’t drunk nearly three bottles of Fae Wine on her own since the start of dinner a few hours ago, he may have believed her.

“Okay, well then for the sake of the argument,” He placed his empty glass down and began scooting closer to her, “Maybe they are doing us a favor. I do sleep in your bed more often than I sleep in mine. And I was known as a male with many dalliances.” Waggling his eyebrows Lucien clutched her arm and leaned into her side. She looked at him with round wide (e/c) orbs.

“Perhaps we should take advantage of these contraceptives and ravish each other,” He buried his face in her neck, playfully growling and nipping at her skin. She yelped and pushed at his face, all the while giggling. He grabbed the back of her knee, the act of pulling her towards him resulted in her back landing on the couch cushions below. Taking her wine glass out of her hand, Lucien set it on the small table. Her laughter was contagious, and he felt lighter than he had in days.

“Be serious,” She continued to giggle from under him. “You wouldn’t want me.” He leaned down, hovering above her. 

“What makes you think that?” He brushed his nose against hers. This time she didn’t laugh.

“The fact that you are a good male,” She squeezed his cheeks together until his lips puckered like that of a fish. His vision blurred as the skin was mushed around. She let go and slipped out from under his arm. He sat back up and watched as she picked up her glass. His mouth dried up as her ass jiggled from her prancing a few steps out of his reach and back into her bedroom proper.

“That has nothing to do with wanting you or not,” He said smoothly, standing and following her inside.

“You’re right,” She mused. “But you don’t want me.”

“How do you know? What makes you so sure?”

“First, you have a mate,” Her tone took on a more serious edge. “One that is beautiful beyond comparison.” He remained silent. It was true that his mate was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. So then why did he feel guilty when he saw the sad recognition in (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Secondly, this,” His eyes followed her hand as it waved up and down the length of her form. “This is not attractive. This-”

“Yes, you are,” He was breathless. He watched as she clenched her jaw.

“No,” Her tone was indignant. “And I’ll prove it to you.” She set her glass down on a nearby table and her hands immediately clasped around the hem of her top. In one quick motion the emerald top was gone, and Lucien’s breath caught in his throat. Mother spare him, he tried to look away but wasn’t quick enough. His eyes caught sight of her bare breasts as they gently bounced from the movement.

“I hereby challenge you to a game of chicken,” Picking up her wine glass, she sauntered over to him, swaying her hips. “The first to show physical signs of arousal is the loser.” She held out her free hand to him. He knew that the terms of the little contest were set in her favor. She’d have to allow him between her legs for him to see any evidence of her arousal, but he convinced himself that the wine swayed him to agree.

“What does the winner get?” He asked, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Her eyes roamed over the expanse of his chest.

“The right to determine where the night goes,” Her saccharine smile practically sent him to his knees. “Anything goes, except the direct stimulation of genitals.” Suddenly, the room became unbearably warm. She continued her path towards the bed. She set the glass back down on the nightstand, and slowly removed her matching emerald silk sleep shorts. 

He felt himself stiffen at the view of her shapely bare form before him. While he could blame the wine for influencing him, he had clearly already lost. He said a silent prayer in thanks to the Mother that his trousers were still on, and she was facing the opposite direction.

“Though I do believe that the odds are in your favor,” She giggled to herself as she turned to face him. She placed herself on the bed as she watched him, picking up her glass for a final time. He took the opportunity to finish undressing, watching as her throat bobbed from swallowing the rest of her wine. Her eyes sparkled as he shed the last bit of his clothes.

“You know how I know?” She practically purred from her position on the bed. “Because you’re too good a male to find anyone except your mate arousing.”

“Being a good male is a burden really,” He smiled, and began to crawl up the mattress. A fox hunting its prey.

“Poor baby,” She leaned against the headboard, arms settling over her stomach, blocking it from view. He was vaguely aware the pose served a double purpose of hiding what she felt was a flaw while perfectly framing her assets. He reached where she sat on the bed. She allowed his fingers to trace up along her bicep, over her shoulder, and across her collar bones. His golden eye focused on the skin that pebbled in the wake of his touch.

“Poor baby indeed.”

“If you were to relieve your burden,” She allowed his hand to continue its travels up the side of her neck and cup her cheek. The scent of arousal permeated the air, but he didn’t call her out on it. He lowered his face towards hers, their noses barely touching.

“I would wrap my lips around your nipple like a starved babe,” Her eyes went wide but were quickly filled with doubt. He watched as she visibly started to close herself off. Shoulders slumping forward and her knees rose to her chest.

That was not exactly the desired effect he had wanted from  her. He wanted her to know just how gorgeous and tempting she really was. And Cauldron boil him she was tempting. His gaze wandered over her form to the ivory lace bottoms she still wore. Even without the alcohol coursing through him, he knew in that instant that if she were completely bare before him, he would bury his face between her legs. He should have called her out for the sweet scent she emitted.

“We should sleep,” Her voice whispered, as she turned away from him.

“And miss the opportunity to prove to everyone, to ourselves, that-”

“We are just friends,” She interrupted, turning back to look at him. Her gaze traveled over him. “Besides, you lost the game.”

Lucien sighed as she fought back her own giggle. The tension in the air evaporated just as quickly as it had arrived. He didn’t need to look down to know that he was hard as a rock. He should have known better than to agree to her terms.

“Fine you win,” He turned and sat next to her on the bed, his left leg bent to block her view of him. “But you are a cheater by wearing those panties.” She stuck out her tongue. He took a few deep breaths to try and calm his erection. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“You know,” Her voice trailed off as she covered herself with the cotton sheet. “I feel a little bad about your situation. But I really do believe that…”

“I wouldn’t have proposed anything more than sleeping, love,” He reassured, pulling the sheets back and climbing under them as well. “Not because you are right, but because you desperately need sleep.” She nodded, humming thoughtfully to herself, before she turned on her side facing away from him. He started to scoot over towards her when she pushed her hand in his face.

“Nope!” She warned. “No cuddles until you’re flaccid.” 

Lucien was just on the cusp of waking. His base senses and instinct were the only things drifting through the fog of early morning slumber. The room was quiet, as was the still sleeping city outside. A cool early morning autumn breeze danced over the bare skin of his shoulder as it peaked out from under the light cotton sheet. The air caused the flesh to rise in small bumps, each one threatening to bring even more awareness to his consciousness. However, it was a welcome sensation compared to the stuffiness of the room. Then again, the shifting body next to him was pleasantly warm. 

Slowly he became aware of his hand resting on a soft plush thigh that was wrapped over his hips. The weight of the limb was comfortable and grounding. A steady rhythm of warm air ghosted over the pulse point of his neck. His voice involuntarily gave way to a whispered hum. With the slightest shift, to not wake himself nor the figure next to him, Lucien merged into the softness. Hand wrapping around the waist to bring the plush figure flush against his, he allowed himself to meld with the body resting nearly atop him. Soft full breasts pressed into his chest and a hand found its home near the top of his shoulder.

The scent of vanilla and honey lulled him back into a relaxing sleep. He didn’t even notice the touch of jasmine was missing from his mate’s scent. It was replaced with another soft warm earthy aroma. Amber. She felt so good sleeping against him. A slight nudge of the tip of her nose against his throat caused his hips to buck ever so gently. He didn’t dare open his eyes or move as the female took a quick inhale of breath. Nothing sharp enough to indicate wakefulness. The nose again brushed along the column of his throat, a set of plush lips quickly following. 

He was nearly awake now with the blood rushing to the growing appendage below his waist. He didn’t know what had entered Elain’s mind to where she felt the need to crawl into bed with him, but he was glad she had. Except…that didn’t seem right. He hadn’t fallen asleep in the Night Court last night. Therefore, there was no way that Elain could be here right now. His heart went into an instant gallop as his eyes shot open. It most certainly wasn’t Elain that was so tightly wrapped up around him. Carefully he pulled his head back far enough to look at the sleeping woman. As he looked down at her figure he tried to prevent his length from stiffening more. 

The early morning rays of sunlight filtered through the sheer white gossamer fabric hanging down around the marble columns surrounding the bed frame, cascading down across her skin that wasn’t covered by the sheets. Her features were relaxed as she continued to sleep on his chest. Something deep in him, deeper than where his magic lingered in his bones, hummed. He knew that he should be separating himself from her, but he couldn’t get his body to comply. It was as if it would only respond to a higher power, one that was perfectly content to have him remain right where he was.

He must still be drunk. That’s the real reason for his lack of control. Bits and pieces of the night before tried to stitch themselves together. He remembered entering her room, another two bottles of Fae wine in his hands. Mother above, two bottles. Internally, he rolled his eyes at his past actions. That had been a mistake. He didn’t remember if they finished said bottles, which then led to his conclusion that they must have. It had been a long time since he had woken without his memory fully intact. As much as he wanted to continue to lie like this with her, he knew that should the wrong person decide to enter the chamber they would have a more difficult time dissuading any rumors. However, he couldn’t bring himself to jostle or rush her out of her slumber.

A gentle tracing ghosted along the skin of your back. The shiver that passed over you slowly brought your mind to consciousness. You knew instantly that Lucien was with you simply from the fact that you were not screaming. You felt like you were floating, you were so at peace. Your own fingers twitched along the warm skin of the chest beneath you.

“Good morning sweet girl,” Lucien murmured. Perhaps you were still dreaming, but you could have sworn you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Hmm, morning,” You didn’t want to open your eyes. Pressing further into his warmth, something stiff poked at your inner thigh. Your eyes shot open. You bolted upright, flinging the sheet to the side and stared at the expanse of golden skin before you.  

“Why are you naked?” Your voice rose in pitch and volume with each word, your cheeks flushing crimson. ‘Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look!’ You really tried not to look down, but you apparently lost the ability to maintain control of your own body. Your (e/c) orbs darted down and back up. You desperately wanted to rid your mind of the image of his hard cock, if even just to prevent yourself from wandering to it late at night, but you knew that that sight would be forever burned in your brain. You shook your head of the fleeting thought that the females in his life must certainly have had a good time with…well, him. 

“I think the better question is why are you?” His own eyebrow quirked up in mirth. He clearly found this all much more amusing than you did. So far, all this has just proved that maybe it was time for distance. You glanced back down at your own body to see that you were in fact mostly nude. You sighed in relief when you saw that you still had a pair of underwear on. However, your relief was quickly replaced by horror in the fact that Lucien was able to see the rest of your naked form. You were aware this wasn’t exactly the first time you’d been in a state of undress around him, but he had always averted his eyes.

Your head snapped up to look at him. Had you been any slower you would have missed the fact that his gaze rested on your chest. Hastily pulling the blankets to cover yourself, your face flushed a second time. You likely would not have minded his stare had you been wearing a bra or a tank top. You knew that your full heavy breasts were eye-catching and enjoyed that fact when you had your short bouts of confidence in your appearance. But that wasn’t when gravity had full control of them as it does now. 

“What happened last night?” You wracked your brain for any explanation as to why you’d both been in your current nude state.

“What do you remember?” He asked. You wrapped the sheet around you, tucking the ends in at the top to form a makeshift robe.

“I remember returning to my room,” Your brows scrunched together. “The rest is blank. Fucking shit balls, I’ve NEVER been black out drunk before.” You pressed the heels of your palms against your forehead. Your head hurt and nausea washed over you. You were going to be sick. Grabbing the bottom of the sheet you ran towards the ensuite bathroom.

The porcelain toilet was cold against your fingers as you heaved your guts into the bowl. Within seconds, a pair of hands carded their way into your hair and pulled it back out of the way. One hand continued to hold your (h/c) locks back while the other rubbed your back in soothing circles.

You were grateful for him. He seemed to always know what you needed and would support you in any way you needed support. And you knew you’d do the same for him. So, the least you could do is support the fact that he has a mate by putting some distance between the two of you. And he’d need to know exactly why, even if it meant being hurtful at this moment.

“The others have been talking,” You started, but another wave of sickness left your body.

“Shh,” He continued to rub your back. “I-I know. We can talk about that later though.”

“I think it's best if there is some separation between us,” The words felt hollow in your ears even though you say them. “I’m not about to be labeled a homewrecker, despite the fact that no home exists for you and Elain right now.”

“Nothing happened between us,” He tried to reason, but you could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. “Did it?”

“You don’t remember?” You turned to look at him as he continued to kneel next to you, you noted that he had yet to cover himself. His hands paused for the briefest of moments. As the waves of your nausea subsided your attention went towards your lower body. You knew your body well. While you were no virgin, it had been a few years since you had sex. Given Lucien’s size, and the lack of a dull ache between your legs, you could tell that at least no penetration

had occurred between the two of you. He was certainly a much better male than anyone gave him credit for.

“I’m quite certain nothing happened,” You rested your head against the bowl. “And why would it? Look at me, I am nothing compared to her.” You wanted to ignore the flame that shone in his eye. The one you knew was sparked from irritation.

“Surely you must not think that I’d be so shallow-”

“Aren’t all men-males?” You were going to win this fight. You would always make sure you won this fight. Anytime someone tried to convince you that your appearance didn’t matter you would argue against it. You had been scorned too many times by men in your past. You knew that your appearance certainly did matter a great deal to anyone that wasn’t just looking to get his cock wet.

“Then again, men don’t care what you look like if they know the night will end in sex.” But they certainly cared when it meant introducing you to others as a potential partner. And as far as you were aware, your physical appearance wasn’t ‘girlfriend or wife material’ worthy. Lucien just stared at you, so you stared right back. Even if he had to lie to you, lie to himself, you could not afford to hope that Fae males were any different. You could not hope that any of them could find you beautiful.

“I will not lie to you-” His voice almost sounded defeated.

“Good,” You cut him off again, looking up. “Then we can move on.” You hoped he didn’t miss the pleading look in your eyes. Flushing the toilet, you made to rise from the floor. Lucien helped you to your feet, and continued to hold your hair as you took small sips of water from the sink’s tap. Removing his hand from your hair, you interlaced your fingers with his.

“I’m not cutting you out of my life, Lucien. You are very important to me. We are friends and can still support each other. I love being with you. We just need to be mindful of how the others see it.” You knew that space was needed. It was necessary, even as something inside you felt like it withered.

“Alright,” He relented, as you splashed your face with the cold water. “What are the boundaries?” He was leaving it to you to decide.

“We have to be the most careful while in the Night Court,” You started. “Physical contact in public should be reduced to linked arms when appropriate. Verbal greetings only. No more nights spent at the townhouse.” You tried to maintain eye contact with him and not let your eyes drift along the expanse of his still exposed body. As much as it scared you, you would have to brave being alone. 

“You and I both know that you sleep better with someone next to you,” He reasoned. “If I can't be there then at least…at least have Ruhn with you. I’m certain he’ll be willing to step in wherever I can’t.”

“He can’t always stay with me,” You informed him. “He has a battle for his own world that he is trying to fight. What am I supposed to do when he’s in Midgard? It terrifies me to think what would have happened that night.” The fact that you nearly walked right off the roof of the townhouse was a chilling thought.

“Then let’s ask Helion for assistance,” Lucien supplied. “Ask him to speak with Thesan. He’s the High Lord of the Dawn Court, a healer in his own right. Surely, he will have knowledge about other sleep or dream preventing tonics.” He raised his hand and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“That could work,” You quickly turned away from his gentle touch. Something deep in you screamed as you walked away and out of the bathroom.

“What do we do when we’re alone?” You tried to stop your heart, but it’s pounding filled your ears. Naturally he followed you, but it was a long while before he said anything else. He slowly got dressed, as did you. Anything to keep yourself occupied while you tried to think.

You didn’t know what to say. If there was nothing between you now, then there shouldn’t be any need to change what you did when alone. Except, being alone with him may only continue to fan the flames of rumors. You needed to do what you could to keep each other in your lives, even if that meant you couldn't touch him in the ways you wanted. Why did this feel like a breakup?

“It’s probably best that we remain consistent,” You watched as sadness flashed across his features."At least for now."

“As you wish.” 

Next- Chapter 10 (~ 7/12/24)

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

BHIN Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine @jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius

Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you, or tag the correct blog.

[automatic-midnight]

My biased, really unpopular take is that I think rit/su/maya is an objectively boring ship.

[tboy-boone]

i don't know if i'll post this fic but ouguuguhuhuh i'm tired of working on it. but i don't work on it, i'll have to do other things i really don't want to do

[illusionofwriting]

a fourth of the way through my camp nano project!! a bit behind but that's okay! had a great writing session just now! wrote an entire day's worth of words for a normal 50k nano so im feeling very accomplished

[lydiimae]

Beneath The Surface

MDI 18+ !

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton/f! Reader

Warnings: PWP, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, spanking (f receiving), semi-public touching(?), heavy praise, innocent reader, virgin reader, jealous Benedict, sub and dom dynamic.

Wordcount: 3k

A.N: Hello my loves. This is a little smut based on a request that you can find here. This is my first time dabbling in the hardcore (not even really that, just spanking LMFAO) world so I hope I did it all right. Thank you for your request anon, I hope you enjoy ^-^! Also, I am in the midst of writing a loooong Anthony fic that will be coming out either this weekend or sometime next week! LOVE YOU <3 P.S. Would you all like a Colin fanfic? I am thinking about writing for him but I just don't know where to start T-T

He adjusts his cravat from across the ball, watching you interact with what has to be the fifth man tonight, from his brother's side. Jealousy for Benedict is different than it is for his brothers. He finds it easier to deal with by shoving it down and releasing it down the line, usually in a painting, too many glasses of brandy, or even a fencing match with his brothers.

He likes to think he does a good job of hiding it too, but everyone around him knows better. Anthony watches from beside him as his jaw ticks, his eyes moving down to his younger brother's clenched fists. "You might go and speak to her, brother. She is your intended." He sighs, looking out over the ball. Benedict scoffs. "And cause a scene? No, thank you." He mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Anthony groans, looking over at him. "She is your fiance, Benedict. It is not like when you were courting, you are allowed to be with her." He mutters. "What gives you the impression I even wish to go over there at all?" He returns with a raised eyebrow, at which Anthony snorts. "You are the very definition of a jealous man, brother. You do not hide it as well as you believe you do." He says, patting his cheek and giving him a snarky smile before joining in conversation with his own wife.

Benedict groans and runs a gloved hand through his hair, clenching his jaw as he thinks. He knows his brother is right, there is nothing untoward about pulling his intended to his side and hogging her for the rest of the night, but that is not the problem. The problem is that he not only wants to pull you to his side, he wants to pull you to his side and rip that dress off. Mark your skin with angry red marks that will not fade for weeks, spank you over his knee for even looking in another's direction. That is his problem.

The more he thinks, the more he can feel himself getting hot, and before long he lets his legs lead the rest of his body straight over to you. He grabs your arm without a second thought, pulling you to his side as he leads you straight past his family and out the door, ignoring a smirking Anthony and a laughing Colin.

"Benedict!" You squeal as he drags you along, your gloved hand grasped tightly with his own. He tugs you along faster in response, his jaw set. "Benedict!" You exclaim once more, finally freeing your wrist and coming to a halt. He practically growls, his hands coming around your waist so he can tug you into a small alcove. "You have absolutely no idea how insane you make me." He whispers, pressing his forehead against yours.

A strange heat settles in your tummy, spreading to that place between your legs. The feeling first appeared when you met him and grew when he danced with you. Your thighs get all sticky and wet, your breasts tingle and heave as your breathing gets harsher, and your mind goes blank. It's a strange feeling, yes, but not unwelcome.

He grins when he sees the effect he has on you. "Look at you, Y/n. So hot that that gorgeous mind of yours cannot think of anything but me." He murmurs, almost mockingly. "I don't...." You begin, but quickly trail off when his lips meet the sensitive skin on your neck. "Benedict!" You gasp, your hands moving to the fabric of his jacket. You squeeze so tight your knuckles turn white. "We mustn't, not here." You whisper without much conviction.

He swats your bottom harshly and you gasp, closing your eyes on instinct. "I have been nothing but a gentleman and you reward me by talking to other men the whole night?" He growls, biting down on the skin of your collarbone. "Benedict I was not-" But you are cut off with another light swat to your thigh. "You most certainly were." He mutters, moving his hands to your hips and bringing you close.

"I do not like to see you with others, Y/n." He whispers, sounding almost soft now, perhaps even insecure. The change sends your mind into a flurry. "You are mine. Mine to love, mine to wed, mine to keep." He murmurs before pressing his lips to yours. Your hands come to his shoulders as your eyes flutter shut, squeezing them softly as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. You part your lips on instinct and his tongue meets yours.

You sigh when he parts, dipping your head down so your forehead can rest upon his shoulder. "I have not..." You trail off and one of his hands comes to your back, his fingers tracing up and down the notches of your spine. "I know." He murmurs, running kisses up your neck and making sure to leave marks in the process. The feeling makes the wetness between your legs grow. "I am going to spend the entire night teaching you." He whispers into your ear.

You whine when he bites down on the skin just below it. "I shall spank your bottom until you are nothing but a mindless harlot, begging for whatever I wish to give you." He whispers, running his tongue down your neck as your head rolls back at his filthy words. "I shall show you how it feels to be worshipped here," He runs his hand over your breasts, making you gasp. "and here..." He whispers, smearing his hand down over your stomach until it rests right above your weeping cunt.

You gasp, meeting his eyes. "Benedict." You whisper, suddenly overwhelmed. He moves his hands back to your waist, squeezing comfortingly before pressing a kiss just above your brow. "I shall not do anything you do not give me the power to do." He murmurs and you nod. "We shall go to my townhouse, hm?" He murmurs, waiting for another nod which you give him almost instantly. With a quick kiss on your lips, he grabs your hand and leads you to his carriage.

The carriage ride to his bachelor's lodgings is filled with open-mouthed kisses and whispered words. When you get to his townhouse he lifts you up into his arms and walks straight in without paying any mind to the driver. He carries you all the way up into the master bedroom where he puts you on the ground.

He walks to the bed, taking off his cravat, and sitting down. His smoldering look makes you shy, your hands playing with the loose fingers of your gloves as your eyes move to the floor. "Look at me." He demands, making your eyes flick up to his immediately. He removes his jacket and waistcoat before running a hand through his hair, everything about him making your body tingle.

He grins when your cheeks turn that delightful shade of pink he has come to adore. "Take off your dress, my girl." He murmurs and your eyes go wide. "Benedict we-" You start. "We are going to do something I have waited months to do. Take off your dress." He interrupts, raising an eyebrow. You bite your bottom lip and nod slowly, undoing the ribbons under your armpits. As soon as you are done the silky fabric lands in a heap around your ankles and you are left in your chemise and stays, your cheeks bright red.

He groans, the front of his trousers tightening. He slowly unbuttons his shirt and motions for you to come closer. You walk to him and he pulls you in between his legs with his hands on your hips. He presses a kiss to your stomach, grinning when the action draws a small giggle. He slowly moves his hands to the laces of your stays, looking up into your eyes for permission. You nod and his fingers undo them with remarkable speed.

He takes off all of your undergarments, the cool air making your nipples pebble. He sighs, pressing another kiss right above your hip before leaning back. "Tell me something, have you ever touched yourself here?" He whispers, his fingers ghosting your inner thighs. You suppress a whine and shake your head, letting out a sigh when his hands move up to your breasts. He cups both of them and groans at the noise that escapes you. "What about these? Have you ever touched yourself here?" He murmurs, swiping his thumbs over your nipples.

You whine, your hips bucking on their own. "No." You breathe and he smiles, smearing his hands all the way back down to your hips. "Spread your legs." He murmurs. "I am going to teach you." He explains when you show even a hint of anxiety. You nod slowly and shuffle on the floor so that your legs are spread just a bit. "Good girl." He praises with a kiss to your naval, slowly moving his fingers up your inner thighs. You gasp when two of his long fingers swipe through your folds, biting your bottom lip to keep from making any more noise.

"Fuck you are soaked, angel." He murmurs in a way that makes you believe it must be a good thing. "This," He taps your cunt, making you whine, "is your cunt, Y/n. A beautiful, ripe, wet, garden just waiting to be planted." He sighs, pressing a kiss to your pelvis. The action makes your hips twitch. His fingers move up a bit higher and press to a place that makes white-hot pleasure shoot through every nerve of your body. You cannot help but cry out, your head shooting back.

He chuckles, a deep sound that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. "That, my gorgeous girl, is your clit. It feels nice when it's touched, does it not?" He hums, moving his fingers around in a teasingly slow circle. "So... so so good." You babble, unsure of how you were able to even form words with how foggy your mind feels. "That is too bad." He hums, taking his fingers away. You whine, your head moving forward so you can look at him. "But Benedict, it felt so good. You cannot just-" You cry out when his hand meets the soft flesh of your bare rear, the feeling much different than when he spanked you before.

"I most certainly can." He growls. "Touching that place is a reward, and you have done nothing that deserves rewarding tonight." He mutters. You would be scared at his tone if you didn't see the love in his eyes, something that makes you want to submit to his every desire. "Come. Bend over my knees." He hums, patting the back of your thigh. "Yes sir." You whisper without thinking about it. He groans when you bend over, dipping down so he can whisper in your ear. "Never stop calling me that." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You smile to yourself as he leans back, his hand ghosting down over your spine before it rests on your left buttock. "You shall only need to pat my leg once for me to stop, twice for me to go on, and a third for apprehension, hm?" He murmurs and you pat his leg twice, making him grin. "Good girl, Y/n." He murmurs as he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. "I am thinking a good ten slaps will be enough for you to learn your lesson for now, hm?" He asks, running his lips down your back. "Yes sir." You whisper, closing your eyes tight.

His lips leave your back and you feel his hand come to your buttock, giving it a squeeze. It has a calming effect until it disappears and the warmth is replaced with two harsh slaps to your bottom, making you cry out and grip his pant leg. "Ben-Benedict..." You whine, and he hums. "Too much." You mumble, squirming on his lap. "You know what to do if it's too much, sweet girl." He murmurs and you pout, making sure not to pat his leg on accident. There is something so divine about the pain and pleasure mixing in your body.

"Good girl." He whispers before giving you two more slaps on the rear, his hands kneading the flesh to prolong the sting. Your legs spread a bit on instinct, wanting more of whatever he will give you. "Please." You mumble, to which he only spanks you again. "Such a harlot, getting so soaked from a spanking." He growls, and you buck your hips. You cry out when he spanks you twice more, harder this time. "Naughty girl. Do not move." He mutters and you nod.

The last three spanks are quick as if he is growing restless. He lifts you up so you are sitting on top of his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest. He groans at the look on your face, your lips parted and damp, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glazed over. So lustful, and yet so entirely innocent. "Such a good girl, Y/n." He murmurs, pressing kisses down your neck. You hum, a lazy smile on your face as your hips move back and forth against his clothed thigh.

"Look at you, riding my thigh without even having to be told." He chuckles, curling his fingers around your chin and stealing a kiss. "Should I teach you more, my sweet?" He hums, grinning at your eager nod. He lets your head fall onto his shoulder as one of his hands rests on the small of your back, the other making its way between your legs once more. He circles your clit slowly, making you moan. "I am going to get you ready for me, how does that sound? Do you want my cock, pretty girl?" He murmurs.

He grins at the confusion that washes over your face, his hand that was resting on your back coming to one of yours. He leads your hand down between his legs and presses it against his clothed cock. He groans when your hand flexes, his fingers on your cunt halting. "That is my cock, my love. You are going to take it inside. Right here." He whispers, moving his fingers to your entrance and pushing one of them in. You cry out at the sudden invasion, patting three times on his arm.

He presses his forehead against yours, letting you get used to the feeling of his finger inside. "You are doing so good, Y/n. Taking my fingers so well. Such a good girl." He praises, peppering your face with kisses. You hum after a moment, nuzzling his neck and patting his arm once. "Good girl." He whispers, beginning to thrust his finger. He adds another when he feels you are ready and you whine, pushing your hips back onto his fingers with every thrust.

He groans. "You know just what to do, don't you pretty girl?" He murmurs and you nod dumbly, unable to think about anything but the feeling of his fingers. "Ben I feel... strange." You pant, a strange tightness in your lower belly. "It's okay, love. Just let yourself feel. You're going to come, darling." He murmurs, speeding up his movements. You are a moaning mess when the string in your body snaps, making you see stars. You slump against him.

"Good girl, coming all over my fingers." He whispers, pulling them out of you before sucking off your wetness. The sight makes your body heat up. "Are you ready for my cock now, sweet girl?" He hums, lifting you up and laying you back on the bed. You nod and your legs spread wide automatically, drunk on his praise. He groans lewdly at the sight, unbuttoning his trousers to free himself.

He runs his cock through your folds, making you both groan. Your hands come to his shoulders, your nails leaving little crescents indented into his skin. He grins and presses his forehead to yours before pushing into your cunt. You cry out loudly when he bottoms out inside of you, his hands coming to your hips. He stalls, letting you get used to the stretch and the feeling of being filled.

You pat his arm once after a few minutes, whining when he starts to rock his hips at a hauntingly slow pace. The feeling is so foreign but so welcome. He speeds up, the sound of his thighs meeting your bum filling the room. Sweat rolls down his neck and splashes against your collarbone as he sets a punishingly fast pace, leaning his head back as he groans. Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines against his soft skin.

"Say you're sorry for talking to that git." He groans, his hand coming to your hair and pulling softly. You moan and turn your head to the side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sir." You babble and he grins, his hand smearing down your torso until his fingers find your clit. He rubs harshly, making you cry out and clench around his cock, the tightening in your tummy returning. "Jesus Christ you are perfect, Y/n." He moans, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. "Mine." He growls, biting down on the flesh there.

That is how you come, your entire body coming alive as you cry out. You see stars, the only thing anchoring you being the sweet praises he begins to whisper into your ear. He pulls out and comes on your tummy, flipping on his back as he lays down next to you. After a moment, you turn and cuddle into him, his arms coming around you and pulling you close. "How was that, darling?" He whispers, pressing kisses to the top of your head. "Wonderful." You sigh dreamily, making him laugh.

"Good. It was wonderful for me too." He hums, running his hand up and down your back. "I love you." He murmurs as he picks you up. "Mmm. Where are we going?" You whisper, nuzzling his neck. "To bathe, darling." He whispers, walking into the bathroom. You grin and press a kiss on his cheek. "I love you too." You whisper and he smiles. The rest of the night is spent in his embrace, the warm bath being just what you need to fall asleep.

You decide that you like it when Benedict is jealous. Very, very much.

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[mammonsrockstargf]

a/n: hi fellas, i have hypersomnia, which basically just means i fall asleep a lot so here’s the brothers with a very sleepy mc.

At first, the brothers are kind of confused. Demons don’t need as much sleep as humans and they’re baffled by your excessive sleeping. Do all humans sleep so much? Why are you always flaring your teeth at them? (They later learn that this is called yawning.)

Lucifer initially thinks you’re lazy and it honestly bothers him. Simultaneously you remind him of a certain brother, so he also lets many things you do slide. He'll just sigh when you fall asleep 45 minutes into one of his lectures. “I think they understood my point,” he says, before turning to Mammon and continuing his lesson for a good two hours. As you get closer, he understands that you aren't lazy and he even lets you sleep in his office at R.A.D. whenever you need it.

One late evening you trudge into his office, blanket in hand. He looks at you with a raised brow. "Bed, now. You haven't slept properly in like 3 days," you say, while pointing your finger threateningly at him. Much to his own surprise, he finds himself in his bed with you snuggling into his side. He supposes you kind of complete each other in that way, where he sleeps too little, you sleep too much.

The first time you fall asleep during one of your hangouts with Mammon he’s annoyed. He lets you sleep it out because you just look too cute when you’re sleeping, but when you wake up he’s crossing his arms and pouting. “Am I really that boring, huh?” Luckily, we all know the great Mammon can never stay mad with you for too long, so he warms up to you again within an hour or so. If you want you can always speed up the process significantly by giving him kisses or a big hug. It works every single time.

Once he realizes you don’t fall asleep because of him, but because you’re just so damn tired, he stops getting bothered by it. Instead, he just tugs you in, covering you in blankets. He'll even scold his brothers if they're being too loud around you. This just causes them to make fun of him, but always at a lower noise level.

Leviathan is also hurt at first, especially because you fell asleep during an anime marathon. He’s a bit harder to make happy again. He’s absolutely convinced it has something to do with him. No matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t believe you until one day when you fall asleep in the middle of a conversation with Mammon. The sight makes him laugh so hard, he almost falls over.

After that, he doesn’t mind anymore. After all, if you fall asleep around Mammon, then it's probably you who's the problem, not him. He lets you sleep with your head in his lap. He’ll even tread his fingers through your hair, but he’ll never admit that to you when you’re awake. Once you wake up again he’s happy to give you a recap of what you missed in the episode, plus an analysis of the dialogue and the hidden meanings of certain scenes.

Satan doesn’t mind at first, because he likes how it bothers Lucifer. He even helps you get away with it. When you fall asleep during class, he’ll put a book in front of you so the teacher can’t see and he’ll answer the question for you if you’re called on. He even begins to write notes for you. Later it just becomes a habit of his, he does it for you without thinking.

If he’s reading aloud for you and you fall asleep, a smile will tug at his lips and he’ll just continue reading for you. Because of you, he begins researching human sleeping patterns. After he reads that certain foods can make you more energized, he begins to carry fruits and nuts with him, which he offers you whenever you get sleepy.

Asmodeus thinks beauty sleep is very important. It’s only natural that someone as beautiful as you should sleep a lot. Besides that, he’s probably the one who wakes you up from your sleep the most. Too much sleep can be bad for you as well! Besides that, he can't wait for you to wake up to share the insane gossip he just heard. You need to hear it now!

Like with Lucifer, you remind Beelzebub of Belphegor. A lot. His chest hurts when he finds you sleeping in the living room and he carries you to bed. When you fall asleep on his shoulder, he pats your head. He likes just looking at you when you sleep. Not in a creepy way, you just look so peaceful. It soothes the ache in his chest.

If you get too tired while you're out on a trip or assignment, Beel will often offer to piggyback you. Beel is a big guy, he could carry Diavolo around if he wanted to. With you on his back, he barely even registers your weight. His arms hook around your legs and sometimes his fingers will dig into your thighs. He likes the way you wrap your arms around his neck and the way he can feel your breath on his ear, while you whisper things to him. Most of all he likes when you fall asleep and he can hear your soft breathing.

Once you become friends with Belphegor, he’s excited to have a sleeping buddy. You come up to the attic to have your midday nap with him and he immediately opens his arms for you. “I’m serious, Belphie, only one hour,” you say, while setting the alarm on your D.D.D. “You know I can’t sleep for any longer than that.” Belphegor just nods sleepily and traps you in his arms. Once you're asleep, he grabs your phone and turns off the alarm.

When Beel comes to wake you up, saying it’s time for dinner, Belphie just laughs when you slap him lightly and complain that you slept for three hours. After that, you refuse to nap with him anymore until he swears that he won’t mess with your alarm again.

One time you mentioned that you have a hard time waking up in the mornings. The constant night of the Devildom is really messing with your brain. That very same day, a new bed lamp is ordered for you. One of those that imitate the sunrise in the morning, slowly lighting up your room as you wake up. You’re a lot more energetic in the mornings after that, a sight that makes all of the brothers smile your way at breakfast.

thanks for reading! you can find my other stuff here. <3

[eff-plays]

Idk if this is a hot take of any kind but I actually really like that Astarion's romance starts off in an unhealthy way and evolves. That's like ... the point? Ya know?

It's interesting. It adds layers and conflict. It allows for growth and evolution. And Larian have claimed multiple times that it was on purpose, that many video game romances have sex as the culmination while here, some characters will fuck you immediately but then what? What happens after? Sex isn't the reward, but part of the relationship. There is more beyond. But people think that there being stuff beyond sex means that that's the only value that exists, and that the sex adds nothing. But in Astarion's case, it's extremely important?

It's complicated. His relationship with sex is complicated. They did it on purpose. That's the point. So what if it's not "uwu soft trust me I don't want sex please let's just hold hands" from the start? He doesn't trust the PC from the start, so why the fuck would he agree to that? He doesn't know them at all. He needs to do things his way because he's not ready for anything else yet. And if you feel sad for him, that's fine, because it's meant to be sad? But to the point of it becoming anger at the people who wrote it? That's weird, man. Astarion isn't real, you're not hurting a real person, and he literally asks Tav for it? In my case, he asks them twice before they say yes. They're not forcing him into anything. The only time you can force him is after the Araj scene, and he immediately breaks up with you after. So he's clearly perfectly capable of ending things if they get too toxic.

I swom to Jon just romance someone else at that point. Idk if this is my romance writer brain talking but well-written, not contrived, and non-abusive conflict is actually rare and sometimes difficult to write, but IMO every good romance needs conflict. Because at the end of the day, it's also a story?

It's not perfect because it's not meant to be. It's meant to be a starting point to evolve from. Sometimes things can be unhealthy without being abusive or problematic TM.

Anyway. Yeah I like how fucked up it is. Because Astarion is fucked up. It makes it more real and more compelling. I made my Tav fucked up to match.

"Well my Tav wouldn't fall for it and would realize ...!" Roleplay harder. Clearly Tav/Durge aren't meant to pick up on his manipulations from the start, or overlook them, or fall for them. There's a bajillion different ways to justify it. If you can't see past your own meta knowledge, romance someone else.

But if you really want the relationship to start without sex then just write that fic? Why are you demanding that Larian caters to your specific tastes and sensibilities? They had a story to tell and they told it. You not liking it is neither a personal a slight against you nor their problem.

[khruschevshoe]

How Behind-the Scenes Issues Affected the Writing of Doctor Who (Both Good and Bad)

Doctor Who is such a fascinating show to look at from a Watsonian v. Doylist perspective. Like, entirely just from an episode writing point of view:

Twice Upon A Time feels so slow and meandering and even boring in places because Chris Chibnall didn't want to start his run as showrunner and Steven Moffat didn't want the show to lose the coveted Christmas timeslot (ironic, I know) so he bumped the Twelfth Doctor's regeneration from the end of The Doctor Falls (where it makes sense) to the end of the Christmas special

Boom Town (my beloved) only exists because originally there was going to be an episode in its spot explaining that Rose had been molded to be the Doctor's perfect companion (by the Doctor, gross) and the writer didn't have the time to commit to the show

The ending of Last Christmas feels like one inside-a-dream too many because originally Jenna Coleman was questioning whether she was going to leave the show or not and the ending was rewritten after the first readthrough when she decided she wanted to stay for another season

The first five episodes of Season 7 feel like each one takes place in a different genre because that's literally how Steven Moffat pitched it to the writers; for example, A Town Called Mercy was literally pitched as "Doctor Who does a Western"

Not so much a weird one but one I find cool: Eleven's first words and Thirteen's first words were literally written by Moffat and Chibnall respectively, as they were brought in to write the first words of the first Doctors of their runs so as to make it cohesive

The reason why Fourteen isn't wearing Thirteen's clothes when he regenerates is because Jodie Whittaker is much shorter than David Tennant and Russell T. Davies didn't want it to look like he was making fun of the genderfluidity of the Doctor (still think he made the wrong decision, but eh)

Wilfred Mott isn't in the Runaway Bride and Donna's father isn't in Partners in Crime because the actor who played Donna's father, Howard Attfield, died after filming several scenes for Partners In Crime, leading to the character of "Stan Mott" from Voyage of the Damned being written into Partners In Crime as Donna's grandfather

Astrid Peth doesn't die in the original drafts of Voyage of the Damned, but Russell T. Davies wrote what is generally considered one of the most emotional deaths in Doctor Who just because he wanted Kylie Minogue to be able to focus on her music career

Originally Oxygen was written as a prequel to Mummy on the Orient Express, where a corporate representative appeared on a monitor. Said representative was fired for his fumbling of the station and would later live on as the company computer, Gus

During Season 11, Chris Chibnall had to do some major rewrites for many of the one-off episodes, therefore The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos ended up being a first draft that made it to screen. He later admitted it was his least favorite episode of the series

And this is only a fraction of what I found in terms of major behind-the-scenes writing reasons. Though I am still totally willing to critique the product that made it to our screens, finding out the reasons behind some of the more badly written episodes of the show really made me feel sympathy for every showrunner of the show as well as appreciate a lot of the good episodes that ended up here despite the short production schedule/unexpected problems (once again, Boom Town my beloved AND everyone's favorite companion Wilfred Mott only exist because of unforseen problems). Absolutely bonkers, isn't it?

[astercontrol]

If KOSA passes

Or if any other form of censorship (there are many in the works!) ever succeeds at stepping in to impede our ability to communicate online:

We have to make plans.

Now, I dunno who'll even see this post. The few followers I have are TRON fans (who despite the fantasy we live in, tend to have realistically dismal views IRL about Disney and the various corporate uses of software).

And this fandom, on average, is pretty tech-savvy. It's where I've encountered the most people under 20 years old who actually know how to use a desktop or laptop computer.

So, if there's any hope for what I'm thinking about, this is prolly a good place to start with it.

(As with all my posts, I encourage reblogging and containment-breaching.)

(Gifs are clips from TRON 1982, mainly the "deleted love scene," from the DVD extras.)

Anyway.

Current society has moved online communication much too far onto major social media sites for my comfort. Whoever you communicate with over the internet, chances are you do it through a service owned by a big company: Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, Telegram, Facebook, whatever. Even TikTok (shudder).

These sites, despite their many flaws, can provide experiences that are valuable and hard to get otherwise. And once all your friends are on one site, you can't just leave and stay in touch with them all, not unless they all go the same place. It's easy to see why it's hard to abandon any social media platform.

But a backup plan is important. Because, as we've seen over and over, social media sites can't be relied on. They change their policies suddenly, without good reason-- and are inconsistent, even discriminatory, about enforcing those policies.

If they're funded by ads, the advertisers are their main customers, and your posts are the product. Their goal is that the posts most valuable to the advertisers get seen by people the advertisers consider desirable customers.

Helping you communicate-- making your posts get seen by the people you want to communicate with-- is optional to them.

Not to mention that the whole business model of an ad-funded website is generally unsustainable. Many of these sites are operating at a loss, relying on shareholders in a fragile bubble, doomed to fail soon just from lack of real profit.

And the more restrictions --like KOSA-- that the law puts on freedom of online speech, the likelier they are to go down or just become unusable. Every rule a site is required to follow is another strain on its resources, and most of them are already failing badly at even enforcing their own self-imposed rules.

If we want any control over our continued ability to stay in touch with our online friends-- we need to have a backup plan. Maybe it'll be simple at first, a bare-bones system we cobble together-- but it's gotta be something that will work. For a while at least.

There are lots of really good posts about ways to build your own website, using a service like Neocities. I VERY MUCH recommend learning this skill-- learning to make websites of the very simplest, most stable, glitch-resistant type, made of html pages-- which you can upload to a host while you store backups on your home computer. If you value the writing and art that you put online, this is probably the safest you can keep it.

But that's for making your own creative work public.

As for communicating with others-- for example, receiving and answering other people's comments on your work-- that gets more complex. I personally haven't found it worthwhile to troubleshoot the problems that come with having a system that allows visitors to comment publicly on my website.

But what we do still have-- and likely will for a long time-- is email.

Those of us who came of age before social media's current hold... well, we might take this for granted. Email was the first form of online contact we ever encountered… and thus it can seem to us like the most ordinary, the most boring.

But in the current world, it is a rare and precious thing to find a method of communicating that doesn't require everyone in the chat to be signed on with the same corporation.

Email is, as of now, still perfectly legal-- as much as social media companies have been trying to herd the populace away from it. I'm sure there are other ways to share thoughts online that are not bound by laws. But I am not going to go into that here.

Email service is provided by law-abiding companies, which will comply with subpoenas if law enforcement thinks you are emailing about doing illegal things. So, email is not a surefire way to be safe, if laws become dystopian enough to threaten your freedom to talk about your own life and identity.

But it's safer than posting on a public social media page.

For now.

Email is beautifully decentralized. You can get an email address many different ways-- some reliant on a company like Gmail, others hosted on your own domain. And different people, with all different types of email addresses, hosted in all different ways-- can all communicate together by the same method.

Of course any of these people, individually, can lose their email address for some reason or other, and have to get a new one. But as long as they still know the email addresses of their contacts, they can reconnect and recover from that loss. The structure of a group linked by email is reliant not on a single company-- but on the group itself, the friends you can actually count on.

This is why I am trying to promote the idea of forming email lists, as a backup plan to give people a way to stay in touch as mainstream social media sites prove to be unsustainable.

I'm envisioning a simple system of sending emails to several addresses at once, and making each reply visible to everyone in the chat by using "reply all" (or, if desired, editing the To field to reply to only some).

If enough people get used to using email in this way, it could fill most of the needs met by any other group chat or forum …without depending on a centralized social media company that's taking dystopian measures to try and make the business profitable.

So here are some thoughts about how I personally imagine it could work.

(Feel free to comment and bring up any thoughts I haven't addressed, or suggestions to customize how specific groups could set it up. This is meant as more of a starting point for brainstorming than a catch-all solution.)

As I see it, here are the basics of what you and your friends would each need to start out:

An email address. Any kind, hosted anywhere. You should use a dedicated email account just for this group, one that you do NOT use for other communication. Being in this group will result in things you don't want happening to your main email address-- like getting a TON of email, one for every post and reply. Or someone could get your email address that you really don't want any contact with. Use a burner email account (one that you can easily replace) and change it if needed.

The knowledge of how to "REPLY ALL" in your email. This will be necessary in order to add a comment that everyone in the group can see.

The knowledge of how to EDIT THE "TO" FIELD in your email, and remove addresses from the list of all recipients. This will be necessary if you want to CHANGE WHICH PEOPLE in the group can see your comment.

The knowledge of how to FILTER WORDS in your email. This will be necessary if a topic comes up that you don't want to see any mentions of.

The knowledge of how to BLOCK PEOPLE in your email. This will be very important. If someone joins this email group who you do not want to interact with, it will be up to you to BLOCK them so that you do NOT see their messages. (If they are bad enough to evade the block with multiple burner accounts, that's what you have a burner account for. Change it, and share the new one only with those you trust not to give it to them.)

Every person in the group will be effectively a "moderator" of the group, able to remove people from it by cutting their email addresses out of the "To" field. Members will all have equal "moderator" privileges, each able to tailor the group to their own needs.

This means the group may naturally split, over time, into other groups, each one removing some people and adding others. Some will overlap, some won't. This is good! This is, in my opinion, what online interaction SHOULD be like! There should be MANY groups like this!

In this way, we can keep online discussion alive, no matter WHAT happens to any of the social media websites.

If the dystopia got bad enough to shut down email, we could even continue with postal mail and photocopies, like they did in the days of print-zine fanfiction.

If it looks like the dystopia is gonna come for postal mail too, we'll use the connection we have to preserve whatever contacts we can with people who live near us.

Not saying it's GONNA get that bad. But these steps of preparation are good no matter exactly what kind of bad stuff happens.

As long as some organized form of communication still exists, we'll have a place where it's at least a little safer to be your true self…

to plan events and meetups…

and maybe even activities a little too risque to make the final cut of a 1982 Disney movie.

They're trying to censor us. We want a Free System. So we're gonna fight back.

For the Users. Not the corporations.

Peace out, programs. <3

[moonstruckme]

so i read somewhere that sometimes a better response to someone struggling with depression is warmth, rather than positivity and i was thinking if you’d be interested in writing a bau!reader x spencer pre-relationship or established relationship whichever u prefer!! where he comforts a depressed reader having a rougher couple of days & is very gentle and understanding and warm towards her 💘

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: depression

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 638 words

You’ve been completely useless through this whole case. You’d sat with the team during various briefings, gone along to view crime scenes and question witnesses, but your brain just wasn’t working hard enough to put anything together. Lately, the effort of cranking the gears is too much. 

You’re considering leaving the rest of your paperwork for another day. You want to not be here so badly. You want your bed. You want to stop being a burden to the team that’s been carrying your dead weight for the past couple of days (and giving you increasingly inquisitive looks throughout that time), and to go home and sleep the weekend away. 

It’s a testament to your fatigue that you smell the coffee before you hear Spencer approaching. Morgan would hand you your ass if he knew. 

“Thanks,” you say, making an effort to smile at Spencer as he sets the plain ceramic mug on your desk. The coffee inside is barely brown, letting you know that he’s already loaded it down with cream and sugar the way you like. 

“Seems like you might have a long night.” He leans back against your desk and braces his hands on either side of his hips, nodding towards your paperwork. 

You shrug. “I don’t know, I’m thinking of leaving it for Monday. Strauss doesn’t need my report that badly.” 

Spencer nods again. “Are you doing okay?” 

“Yeah.” You blow gently on your coffee, wishing the aroma brought you the same sense of contentment it usually does. “Why?” 

“You never let your paperwork sit overnight,” he says. “And you’re not eating as much, having trouble concentrating, looking tired all the time…” Spencer pauses, meeting your eyes. It’s an effort not to drop your gaze. He sounds like he’s been adding things up for a while. “Do you need anything?” 

You smile again. It feels better this time, more genuine. “I’m just having a tough couple of days,” you tell him. “It happens to me sometimes, it’ll pass. But thank you.” 

Spencer’s face smooths out and pinches all at once. For a profiler, he’s shockingly horrible at controlling his expressions. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel the need to around your team. You read him plain as text: relief at having an identified problem, distress at the lack of an easy solution. 

You know he means well, but you can’t stick around to bear the weight of any more disappointment.

“I think I’m going to head out,” you do your best to sound calm, reassuring, as you gather your bag from beneath your desk. “See you Monday, Spence.” 

“Wait.” You pause, but then Spencer’s falling into step beside you, grabbing his bag to follow you to the exit. “Do you want to come over?” 

You look at him, surprised. “To your place?” 

He nods. “Yeah, there’s a marathon of the Jurassic Park movies on tonight. We could watch them and order pizza, or whatever you want.” 

A little laugh startles out of you. The sensation feels odd and atavistic, like a bubble popping in your chest. “You like Jurassic Park?” 

“I like talking about how unfeasible it is,” Spencer says, pressing the button on the elevator. “Did you know velociraptors were about the size of a large bird?” 

“...I did not.” 

“Probably because you watched Jurassic Park.” He smiles, and you can’t help but copy him. “Really, I’m not attached to the idea of watching them. We can do whatever you want.” 

The inside of your lip finds its way between your teeth, but Spencer glances down and you release it. “I’m not sure I can pass up the opportunity to witness that much berating,” you say. “How many are there?” 

“Six, not including two short films or the animated series.” 

“Will you hold it against me if I fall asleep?” 

“Not at all.”

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

The more I think about season 2, the more grateful I am.

In a lot of ways, OFMD's writers, cast, and crew were given an almost impossible task. S1 was brilliant and took everyone by surprise by how successful it became. I am still shocked every time I rewatch by how smart and efficient the writing is, how intelligent the social commentary. S1 is a masterclass in good television.

And for s2, expectations were incredibly high. OFMD found massive word-of-mouth success in a way I've never seen with any other show, and they suddenly had a big, incredibly passionate audience - the renewal was because of massive fan support, and that must have translated to an incredible amount of pressure in the writer's room. Plus, as if that wasn't enough on its own, they're having to deal with budget cuts and Max slashing them down to only 8 episodes to tell a 10-episode story. This is an incredibly daunting task.

And yeah, I've been critical. OFMD is my favorite show, no contest, and it's easy to be critical of the things we love. We can all see that the pacing was off this season, especially in those last two episodes. Some arcs felt rushed; some side characters didn't get enough screen time to set up what they're doing this season. Jim and Olu especially suffer for that. It's inexcusable that this show's budget was slashed the way it was and I'm sad for what we could have had.

But, on the whole? Holy shit, this season was incredibly successful! Despite an incredible amount of fan pressure, the writers told the story they wanted to tell. They never lost sight of Ed and Stede's story, and were smart about allocating screen time so our leads' arcs never suffered too much for it. There's so much creative problem solving - when they realized they'd need to be smart about which side characters to keep on screen, they turned Buttons into a bird in a way that underscored season themes of transformation and change. 10/10, no notes. They even remembered their audience and left us on a satisfying note for all our characters - we get to end with Ed and Stede, happy and together, starting their new life.

They had an impossible task and they did a fucking commendable job. Character beats and humor are balanced amazingly well. Ed and Stede feel so much more fleshed out this season. Just like in s1, OFMD will never be a show where you can catch everything with one watch - there's so many little jokes, hidden gags, small details to discover with every rewatch. And every single actor is giving it their all in every scene! You can tell how much this show was a labor of love for everyone involved.

I'm proper fucking impressed. Here's hoping they get a renewal and a better budget for season 3!

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #2

-people who lack an element in their chart really do surround themselves with a lot of people in said element. for example, my friend lacks earth and has at least 4 friends who are earth sun signs

-some capricorns really can't get along with leos, but they are attracted to sag and aries placements. they can't help it

-mars in the 1st house get sexualised a lot, to the point it gets too much for some people..especially women. these people are also very ambitious. even when going through tough times, they never lose sight from their goals

-mercury in aquarius have a unique humor. the same goes for mercury in the 11th.

-virgo mercury pay attention to details, esp when they like you..the things they remember and gifts they give you, shows how thoughtful they are

- fire signs/houses..please tell me that you've been told at least once that you talk too loud. i have aries mercury and my friend mercury in the 9th and we both had a revelation that we talk too loud lmao

-well-developed capricorns are such sweethearts. they are reasonable and grounded, but they are also so funny and charming. they may appear as if they have everything under control at all times, but they're just like the rest of us

-water signs have the craziest dreams i swear😭some can sound like scenes from a movie, fantasy and/or horror

-moon in the 5th house/leo think about themselves a lot and take things personally. they think everything is about them. on the other hand, they have the biggest hearts and they want to make everyone they love happy. can you blame them tho for wanting to feel like a main character

-when you want to ease your mind, talk to someone who has a sagittarius mercury and they will cheer you up

-having an empty 7th house might mean that you don't have much, if any, relationship experience. you probably give good relationship advice though

-aquarius/11th house placements have their own strong moral code. they can usually hide their feelings well, but if they realise someone is being intolerant towards others and mean, they'll get really emotional. they want the world to be a better place, and get frustrated when they see how many people don't care

-capricorn placements may have really complex relationship with their parents. they often expect too much from their kids, and since they prove that they can endure almost everything, the parents don't loosen their grip. they need to know their worth and forget about the expectations!

-mercury retrograde can really cause communication issues for people. it is difficult for these people to express how they feel and stand up to others. but, it does get better with time!

-aries and taurus placements combo in a man can be very dark imo, they are often players. they also have huge ego problems. i dislike emphasizing only the darker parts of people, so i have to admit that these placements, if well-developed, can be very loyal and passionate especially with people they love. they are also incredibly hard-working and focused, it's really admirable.

-be careful when dealing with men that have virgo and libra placements in their chart. some may be romantic and attentive, while others can nitpick your every flaw and can have ridiculously high standards. they can cheat and lie easily as well

-sagittarius venus love adventure, having a partner who doesn't know how to have fun and explore things is a big turn off to them. they can make compromises for their more serious partners, but if they can't reciprocate the same effort, it's not going to work

-cancer risings seem very approachable and kind. their eyes are usually big and curious, almost childlike

-this has been said many times, but venus in the 1st individuals truly are beautiful. there is also something different and captivating in their beauty, they stand out wherever they go

-saturn in the 3rd house/gemini may indicate that a person faced speech/writing difficulties when they were young, or they continue to struggle with it

-pisces moons tend to forget things and their memory can betray them at times. as a pisces moon, i think that's because we are in our heads too much and we remember how we felt about things, not the words and actions. we also struggle with being present 100% of the time, so we perhaps didn't listen to you in the first place (i'm sorry)

take this with a grain of salt, since i only read about astrology in my free time!💜

[machiavellli]

Some Lorenzo Berkshire headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: after a month I made them. I am truly sorry, I am the ceo of procrastination. But I had so much fun writing those though, because Lorenzo is my silly lovely boy, I wanna hug him so bad, he too precious. And this song, reminds me of him so bad, like every time I listen to it, my mind immediately jumps to him.

Honestly I got a bit carried away, I wanted to cover maybe other parts, like how he is as a boyfriend, but well-. You read it and of course you can tell me what you think after :)

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Infos: pretty much just fluff, possible dramatic scene, no use of y/n, Lorenzo being cute, mutual pinning, English is not my first language (please if you find any mistake report them to me!).

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Lorenzo Berkshire, the most precious slytherin boy:

You two first met when you were just children because of your families

And I don’t know about you, but I used to despise boys so much when I was little, until I was seven (or perhaps even eight), so I kinda imagine your first meeting to be not that charming.

Like little Enzo panicking because he can’t understand what he did wrong, why this little girl is making such a disgusted face for him

But as you two grow more comfortable around each other, he becomes your best boy friend.

You two have many chances to see each other during your childhood and you always tried to make the best out of each encounter.

The type of kids that would cry when they have to separate after playing all day together.

And also the type of children that would definitely try to pull a prank on little Draco, just for them to get chased down by Lucius Malfoy himself after and cry frightened.

But something inside you two changes when you both are forced into your first ballroom dancing class (I headcanon that all the high-ranking families in the magical society enjoy hosting elegant dinners and balls, so follow me on this)

The proximity between you two, the touch of her hand, totally make little Enzo go all flushed.

Therefore, that soft innocent crush in the heart of the two children starts to blossom.

You drew hearts next to his name in your diary, imprisoning your feelings at the edge of a paper too scared to burn at the sight of the light, too scared to show this growing affection.

Little Enzo would sometimes pick a flower from his garden, trying to build some courage in himself for giving it to you. But that never happens.

When you get to Hogwarts he is your rock.

Perhaps if you an introvert he is the one introducing you to people or literally bringing you inside a friend group.

Ever heard of the trope “extrovert adopts an introvert”? Like that I mean.

Anyway, the crush is still there, of course, but none of you dare to even consider talking about it. Because no one has the guts to risk losing their favorite person.

Lorenzo is very cheerful, a ray of sunshine, and as he grows more people start to notice. And that’s a problem.

You are jealous, terribly.

Seeing those girls approaching him, giggling like infants, even when you are right at his side, hurts you.

He always refuse them politely and you smile in you mind.

Lorenzo is such a gentleman and everybody knows it.

Always giving you his arm while walking, opening doors,

moving chairs,

asking “how did you sleep darling?” or “have you eaten today dear?”

hugging you every time you see each other,

Offering his jacket to you as soon as he notice that it is becoming a little cold

Listening you ramble for hours about your favorite subject or a book you just read, always with that delicious little smile painted on his face.

And if he finds you crying for whatever reason he will take you into his arms immediately.

Listening to you explain through your tears what happened, while one hand strokes your hair gently and the other your back.

Seeing you hurt has an effect on him, definitely will let a couple of tears slip while you can’t see him.

Lorenzo is an empath, he will understand you and he will comfort you.

Also I feel like his love language is debatable, but he will definitely like to touch you, to feel your presence concretely.

Even if you two are not together he will often try to pull out an arm around your shoulders, always respecting your decision to refuse it and your personal vital space though.

Perhaps, sometimes, as you are all focused making your pen run during your studies session, he will look at your hand, wishing to be able to linger over it without an explanation.

He is also jealous, of course, because no one knows how desperate he is for you, how he feels blinded by how beautiful you have grown.

He feels his eyes and heart burning when a guy at a party tries to hit on you.

The golden retriever energy is suddenly gone and Theo will pull out a worried look for his friend.

But you aren’t his, how stupid it is of him to ache himself for something he never had.

After another scene of this kind, Theo decides to ask him about this totally not subtle behavior of his. (You already know that I headcanon Enzo and Theo to be best buddies shhh)

It takes a while for him to confess, but either for the tipsy state or the exhaustion that this situation has brought to him, he confess.

After years, let’s say it happens in the 6th year, he finally tells someone, felling already a bit lighter.

Theo looks at him, trying to not laugh, but miserably fails: “mate do you need glasses?”

And then he explains to him that anyone can see that something is going on between the two.

That you look at him like he is the sun lighting your existence and so does he with you.

Perhaps it is time to act now, to not fear, to be brave.

He won’t ask you directly though, I see him more prone to writing down a letter to you

Pouring on paper his feelings, how exceptionally well you make him feel, in conclusion, his love for you.

The angel sent from above that you are in his eyes, that he always had and always will e have at his side if he seals with ink his emotions.

Perhaps it could look something like this:

My Dearest,

In the quiet corners of my soul, I've carried a secret for what feels like an eternity, my heart dances to the rhythm of your name. Amidst youthful dreams and uncertain tomorrows, your laughter echoes in my thoughts, painting vivid hues in the canvas of my days. With each passing day, your radiance grows, illuminating the path of my existence. Today, in this moment of bravery, perhaps taken by a Gryffindor spirit, I dare to confess what has long lingered unspoken: I adore you beyond measure.

Yours sincerely,

Lorenzo

And do we want the realization dramatic? Of course, is that even a question?

You recive his letter in a moment of privacy, perhaps in a quiet corner of the library while you are studying.

A first year approach you and quickly says “It is from Lorenzo Berkshire, he wants to know what you think then” before running away.

You look at the letter puzzled, looking at the delicate handwriting in which your initials are written on the outside.

You open the letter and everything just stops.

Only your eyes move, running desperately over and over again on the words overflowed by pure love.

How is it that you never noticed?

How is it that someone can love you so deeply?

The clock has continued its tireless dance for too long and you finally had enough.

There it won’t be peace until you found him.

An exceptional energy, filled with excitement, happiness and love, takes over you.

You suddenly snap, lifting yourself up from your cozy spot, leaving everything behind, because your real everything is in front of you.

The sound of your shoes, tirelessly beating against the hard floor as you run, is all you can hear.

People send concerned look in your way as you brush not so cordially their shoulder, trying to make your way to your lover.

The halls are full, the rain is once again pouring outside, you don’t even know where you are going, simply drove by the now fully ignited sentiment.

Lorenzo is repaired outside in the viaduct courtyard, waiting for his friends to be done with their smoking when he sees you.

You, bravely exiting the library annex, making your way to the viaduct bridge, looking left and right, looking for him.

Without a word to the others he starts running in your direction, the rain quickly wetting him entirely.

You are now both running, from opposite side of the bridge, people gathering around looking as the scene consume before them.

It is cold,

It is wet,

The nature is gray under the fog.

But two hearts beat ferociously, desperately trying to approach the other.

Your drenched hair flows with your movement, hands in a fist, your vision lightly blurred.

And in the middle of the bridge he catches you.

An hug full of every word neglect for so long.

He spins you around for has many years he had to wait for this, before he lets you go, moving his hands to cup your face gently as the rain harshly pours on you.

Eyes so desperate to crawl into the other’s spirit.

“I sense my letter has reached you” he will say smiling like an idiot drunk on love

You giggle, like the kids you used to be.

Because you have known each other for a lifetime, but only now he has found you.

“My dear, I love you” he will say before kissing you, warming your body, lighting your existence.

Everything faded then, from the cheers of the other students looking at the theatrical scene, to the screams of the various professor trying to pull you inside.

Your heart finally funded his.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

I hope you liked them🫶✨

my ask box is open btw!

[performativezippers]

fanfic writer habits i've had to unlearn when trying to traditionally publish original work

a list in no particular order in case you're curious

starting sentences with "And"

so. many. one sentence. paragraphs. like, yeah, this is fun for The Drama but also...not how books work

using italics for emphasis--gotta use your WORDS, zippy

head hopping. rereading old fanfics i wrote, i'm like, WHOSE POV IS THIS?? HOW WOULD JANE KNOW MAURA THINKS THIS?? jesus christ keep your pov tight, zipperoni. i had to really learn this when i was revising my first book and my agent pointed it out.

Oh. Oh. some of these are good but too many are oh [failure]

Using scene breaks to skip through transitions instead of actually transitioning. this one i'm working on right now and it's haaaaaaard.

scene choreography. if someone is holding something, do they ever put it down? are they STILL HOLDING IT NOW, FIVE YEARS LATER?

overwriting vs using a lighter touch. "that's normal. that's casual. that's fine." sometimes that's great for emphasis, but if it was always just "that's casual. that's fine." the point comes across the same way, and doesn't hit you over the head with it as much.

introducing new characters and making them memorable, vivid, and not sucking up too much space when the reader doesn't recognize them (it's lena! i love her!)

pacing! things have to happen at specific times, the book needs to end at a specific time, the conflict needs to be sown here and explode there. making that all feel organic and honest for the characters while also conforming to the genre expectations that have very little flexibility (especially for a new author trying to convince publishers I know how to write books)

ending things at the right time. at first i wrote too far beyond the climax (classic fanfic problem) and then now i seem to have swung too far in the other direction and am ending too soon after it. but the good news is that my editor asked for an epilogue. you know what that means?? A WHOLE SHORT CHAPTER OF FLUFF Y'ALL!!!

Does this need to be a curse word or can it be a different word? i mean often it fucking needs to but not always!

Just cut out the word just almost all of the time even if it feels like it's just the right word; it will hurt just a little but you should just do it.

use as much sex as the plot needs. incorporate it into the plot. don't change the tone of the piece. make it stay in character and also be hot and also serve the narrative.

got questions? want examples? have thoughts? what other things have you caught yourself doing, or notice when you read through your old stuff?

[gogomatthew]

Request: (Smut)

Hotch gives Spencer the lead on a new case. And when Y/N doesn’t do what Spencer said to do- well let’s say when they get home she gets punished.

Just you wait

SPENCER REID X FEM!READER

summary: being from a different department and working with your fiancé was always great except but things change when you don’t seem to obey his orders

warnings: choking • punishment • spanking • sub!dom dynamics • cursing • arguing • bj • PV •

a/n: english isn’t my first language so I apologize for any gramatical errors! I don’t really see Spencer as a dom tbh so this was a little difficult for me to write sorry if its not exactly what you wanted honestly it was rushed :/

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI!! 18+ SMUT AHEAD

“I dont feel great about this just so you know” Emily says as you both enter the DCPD. “You think I do? but we can’t prioritize feelings over case right now” Emily sighs as you squeeze the orange envelope filled with new pictures of the crime scene between your fingers subconsciously releasing your stress onto it with a deep breath.

You see a lanky figure make his way towards both of you with a glare of disbelief plastered on his face. “You went behind my back?” though his tone is angry theres hurt laced between his words. “Im sorry but we found new evidence that-” he cuts you off “I dont care right now! Im leading this case and I told everyone to stay away from the scene until further notice. You cant just ignore my authority!” his eyes switch back and forth between you and Emily

“I work for a different department” Emily just sighs and throws her hands up in surrender as she walk away past Spencer after realizing the conflict just got a little personal. Spencer runs his hands down his face in defeated frustration causing his words to come out slightly muffled “Am I joke to you? seriously am I? I know you work for a different department but you never seem to have a problem obeying Hotch..” his hands fall back to his sides as he grabs the envelope from you and storms off leaving you there with your thoughts.

For some cases your department sent you out as the traveling detective to help out the BAU and you never had a problem working along side your fiancé I mean this job is what brought you both together but having him as your acting boss was slightly different. Its not that you didn’t respect his authority you just didn’t understand his judgment at this moment. He knew how your job functioned and always did his best to help you with whatever you needed but right now he was stopping you from doing your job and you were worried about him but there were victims at risk.

Hypothetically he would’ve been fine if..

If Hotch wasn’t hovering

If the geographical range wasnt so large

If the building wasnt so loud

If the PD didn’t see him as joke

if it wasn’t dangerous for his agents to leave the building alone

ect,, there were too many thoughts taking over and none of them were good.

Thankfully the evidence you and Emily found was crucial to the investigation and even though he was still under immense stress you felt as if at least you took a little weight off Spencers shoulders although that didint mean he was pleased with your actions. He avoided you throughout the day even after the unsub was caught not even breaking the silence on the car ride home. Before you can even finish parking Spencer is stepping out of the car and entering your shared apartment before you.

You make your way inside not too long after him with tears of pent up frustration brimming your eyes and threatening to fall only for those thoughts to be forgotten as your head gently hits the wall. Spencer has you pinned by his large hand lightly squeezing your neck the way he knows you love as his other hand holds both of your wrists between his fingers. “what was that today? first you ignore my authority..” a squeeze to your neck as his raspy voice lingers closer to your slightly open mouth “and then you humiliate me?” another squeeze and the tears fall alongside a whimper “why’re you crying baby? you know I just wanna keep you safe and thats why I couldn’t let you go to the scene” his tone is genuine care mixed with condensation as he looks you up and down hungrily “but you just had to ignore me and im gonna have to make you learn your lesson” his grip on your throat loosens as his hand gently strokes your face wiping away your tears “m- sorry” you choke out as he ghosts his lips over yours, his hot breath makes your thighs clench.

“I know you are but its too late now” his grip on you loosens and he pushes you down harshly to your knees as he undoes his belt without a word. As he frees his cock from his boxers he gives it 2 slow strokes “open” he simply says and you obey, taking him into your mouth eagerly. What you cant fit into your mouth you pump with you hand causing his breath to hitch at the stimulation. Spencer strokes his finger through your hair before fisting it and thrusting his hips into your mouth. He’s vocal and hes not shy about it, his moans come out strained and loud as you feel his dick twitch on your tongue getting ready to have your throat welcome in his load despite your gagging until he pushes you away “d-dont wanna cum yet.. gonna make you beg for it first” he says out of breath as he lifts you off the ground and into the bedroom.

“take it off.. I want a show” with a gulp you start unbuttoning your blouse slowly trying not to seem to desperate and take your pants off as he eyes you lustfuly. You are completely nude to him as his shirt and boxers remain “come here” you walk over to him cautiously and he sits you down on his thigh resting his hands on your hips slowly rocking you back and forth causing a moan to drop from your parted lips. “mm” you start rocking yourself faster as he removes his touch from you depriving you “please” he fake pouts “please what? I need to hear it” a desperate cry leaves your mouth knowing you wont be able to cum just from his thigh “I need you” he chuckles “need what? my fingers?” his hand cups your dripping cunt teasing your entrance with his fingers “n-no your-” a whimper leaves your throat “your cock”

one last look at you and he’s flipping you over so hes caging your body under his own. He grabs his dick in his hand and pushes it into your entrance without warning or giving you time to adjust. His hand finds its way back to your throat making your sounds of pain and pleasure sound strained. His thrusts dont have a rhythm theyre just ruthless and fast. “hah- ah you crying? im just correcting your behavior” his cock brushes your g spot so good it makes you forget how to talk “you know that right baby?” now this is condescending but you cant find it in you to care right now, the pleasure taking over “say it.. say you deserve this” his hold on your throat releasing so he can hold onto the bed frame to go deeper against your sensitive spot “ahh say it” with a yelp you manage to push the words out “I-I deserve t-this” his thrust dont let up it just fuels him on even more “wasnt gonna let you c-cum tonight but I think id rather fuck you stupid ah- what’d you think about that?” he knows you’re already seconds away from your orgasm as your eyes start rolling to the back of your head and you cant provide any actual words. His free hand makes its way down to your clit desperate to make you his own little fuck toy. Your legs start shaking erratically and without a warning you cum all over spencers aching cock with him hot on your heels. You pant but before you have time to catch your breath you’re roughly flipped over onto your stomach as a rough slap lands on your ass

“im not done with you yet”