“Meg.” Nobara whined. Everyone was still staring at them, all fish-shaped mouth and wide eyes.
“No, you got yourself in. You get yourself out. Maybe, you’ll learn the consequences of continuously saying things without thinking.” Megumi was smiling. She could spy it from behind the glass he was holding. Unbelievable!
Nobara glared at Megumi. Really? He was gonna be like that? “Uh, that’s why I have you guys? Where are you all when I need you, huh. Useless chaperones.”
“I never agreed to being your chaperone.”
“But,” Yuuji leaned on his hands and said, with a hint of a purr, as he stared at her with starry eyes and that stupid, large besotted smile that never failed to make her insides melt a little, “I like it when you run your mouth.”
He must be realllyyyy drunk. Nobara laughed and pulled him in for a kiss.
You have NO idea how crazy my life has been lately, but I’ve slowly and diligently been writing for you all! And I adore reading over little pieces of what you’ve all got going on as well. Such a beautiful sense of community! You’re all tagged back, btw
Here is a snippet from my upcoming fic for @omegaharryfest - I’m making a few unique choices to change the typical ABO stereotypes up with this fic and am excited to get going on it once I shift focus from revising my Big Bang. I bet you can’t guess who the rogue is
“Our borders have long been quiet, but on the eastern ridge scouts caught wind of a foreign scent. They believe it to be a rogue.”
“A rogue?” Harry speaks before he can catch himself this time, bafflement evident. Rogues are so rare they balance on the edge of being mythical; a wolf who has abandoned their pack.
The strength of a pack relies on the strength of the bonds, but so too does the strength of an individual. A solo wolf lacking such ties would be left with abilities and fortitude completely abysmal, or so Harry has been left to imagine. The destitute life of a rogue was one of a scavenger until the isolation drove them completely feral.
Harry shivers at the mere thought. To turn feral was truly a fate worse than death.
You have NO idea how crazy my life has been lately, but I’ve slowly and diligently been writing for you all! And I adore reading over little pieces of what you’ve all got going on as well. Such a beautiful sense of community! You’re all tagged back, btw
Here is a snippet from my upcoming fic for @omegaharryfest - I’m making a few unique choices to change the typical ABO stereotypes up with this fic and am excited to get going on it once I shift focus from revising my Big Bang. I bet you can’t guess who the rogue is
“Our borders have long been quiet, but on the eastern ridge scouts caught wind of a foreign scent. They believe it to be a rogue.”
“A rogue?” Harry speaks before he can catch himself this time, bafflement evident. Rogues are so rare they balance on the edge of being mythical; a wolf who has abandoned their pack.
The strength of a pack relies on the strength of the bonds, but so too does the strength of an individual. A solo wolf lacking such ties would be left with abilities and fortitude completely abysmal, or so Harry has been left to imagine. The destitute life of a rogue was one of a scavenger until the isolation drove them completely feral.
Harry shivers at the mere thought. To turn feral was truly a fate worse than death.
Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian romance, Mr Warren’s Profession!
~
“Terribly sorry about all this subterfuge, sir,” said Charles as he led a bewildered Aubrey up the stair.
“Quite all right,” Aubrey replied automatically. He waited for Charles to elaborate further, but Charles said nothing as he blazed a winding trial up the stair and down dark halls to one particular door amongst a half-dozen identical ones.
“In here, sir,” said Charles, holding it open for Aubrey.
It was a bedroom. Clearly Aubrey’s reputation had preceded him.
“If you would remove your jacket, sir,” Charles continued, doing nothing to change Aubrey’s assessment of the situation.
~
Mr Warren’s Profession is a gay Victorian cross-class romance, available now wherever fine books are found!
Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian cross-class romance, Mr Warren’s Profession!
~
Mr Althorp nodded smartly, satisfied. “You’re quite welcome, Aubrey. That is, if I may call you Aubrey?”
Aubrey gave a start at the first utterance of his Christian name. In Mr Althorp’s aristocratic accent, it carried echoes of Aubrey’s fantasies. But a twinge of bitterness followed. Of course Mr Althorp might presume to call him Aubrey. It was Mr Althorp’s right as his employer and social superior. He could call him anything he liked—clerk, boy, you there, and a half-dozen ruder terms—and Aubrey would be obliged to answer.
By the second time Mr Althorp said his name, Aubrey had recovered his composure enough to respond with minimal venom. “As it suits you, sir.”
“Lindsey,” said Mr Althorp.
Aubrey allowed himself a confused frown. “Beg pardon, sir?”
“You must call me Lindsey. That is, if I’m to call you Aubrey. It’s only fair.”
It took a concentrated effort on Aubrey’s part to keep his jaw from dropping open. Words failed him. He could only stare.
Mr Althorp, meanwhile, seemed blissfully unaware he’d said anything out of the ordinary. He maintained his placid smile as Aubrey stared in silence, his mind chugging along like an overworked engine to try and to understand what the deuce was happening. His heart beat faster, his pulse reverberating through the calling card case in his pocket.
“Very well,” said Aubrey. Then he added, “Lindsey.”
Lindsey’s smile broadened into a grin.
~
Mr Warren’s Profession is a gay Victorian cross-class romance, available now wherever fine books are found!
Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian cross-class romance, Mr Warren’s Profession!
~
Lindsey stared.
Mr Warren, appearing scarcely older than Lindsey himself, stood a good head shorter. His heart-shaped face held a small, sharp nose, Cupid’s-bow lips, and a spellbinding pair of large, dark, half-lidded eyes. He wore a black wool suit, which offset the china white of his skin as much as it matched the ebony gleam of his hair, combed back to reveal a high, intelligent forehead.
“Sir,” said Mr Warren in a tone as mechanical as their surroundings. He gave Lindsey a clockwork-sharp nod.
Lindsey hardly heard him, though his hind-brain noted the gesture and may have responded in kind. Alternatively, he might have continued staring at Mr Warren with parted lips and furrowed brow. He couldn’t say for certain.
~
Mr Warren’s Profession is a gay Victorian cross-class romance, available now wherever fine books are found!
Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian cross-class romance, Mr Warren’s Profession!
~
“I would be delighted,” said Lindsey, “if you would do me the honour of accompanying me to the theatre.”
Aubrey felt a slight pressure on his thigh. He glanced down to find Lindsey’s hand upon it.
He buried his initial reaction of wild, inappropriate glee deep down where Lindsey would never see it. Yet while he could hide his joy from the outside world, he couldn’t escape it within the confines of his own mind. His imagination presented a whirlwind of vignettes—Lindsey’s fingers brushing the arm of his jacket as they walked to the theatre; once inside, Aubrey taking advantage of the darkness to rest his hand in Lindsey’s lap; he and Lindsey sharing a cab home after the show, Lindsey undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, Lindsey’s mouth on his throat, Lindsey straddling him, Lindsey—
At present, Lindsey’s hand remained on his thigh. Aubrey reined in his fantasies, lest Lindsey encounter more than he’d expected there.
Or perhaps precisely what he’d expected.
Aubrey swallowed hard. Regardless of his tempting offer, Lindsey remained Aubrey’s superior. If Lindsey tired of his companionship, Aubrey would be tossed back in the gutter. The alternate possibility, that Aubrey’s own interest would wane, and Lindsey would demand continued affection as a condition of his employment, didn’t sound any more appealing. And if by some miracle a third path appeared, as the stupider parts of Aubrey’s brain hoped, wherein he and Lindsey remained inseparable in mutual bliss until the end of their days, Aubrey couldn’t conceive of a world in which he became anything more than Lindsey’s pet clerk, a filthy little secret. No. He’d moved on from that role long ago. He had no intention of returning to it now.
Then again, considering all he’d accepted from Lindsey, it looked as if he’d returned to it already.
Realising this uncomfortable truth left Aubrey with only one respectable option. He took a deep breath, gathering courage along with air, and spoke.
“Mr Althorp, I am not entirely comfortable with the position of your hand.”
~
Mr Warren’s Profession is a gay Victorian cross-class romance, available now wherever fine books are found!
Sunday snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance, Oak King Holly King!
~
Yet the second door proved not so unlocked as the first. Wren swore a blistering oath. He began patting down his coat, waistcoat, and trousers alike. These efforts produced a button-hook, but this didn’t satisfy him.
“Have you anything like a hairpin?” he asked Shrike. “Something long and thin, like a needle or—”
Shrike dipped his hand into his cloak pocket and produced a silver awl.
Wren raised an eyebrow. “That’ll do.”
Shrike dropped the awl into Wren’s outstretched palm. Wren crouched before the lock.
“I required the contents of my father’s wine-cellar to survive the holidays at home during my university years,” Wren explained as he probed the mechanism with button-hook and awl. “Neither he nor his butler felt inclined to furnish me with the key.”
Shrike, to whom it had not occurred to demand an explanation for such fortuitous skill in night-work, cocked his head as he watched Wren’s progress against the lock.
~
Oak King Holly King is a gay Victorian fae romance, available now wherever fine books are found!
Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance, Oak King Holly King!
~
Two combatants remained on their feet, their sword hilts locked together in a contest of brute strength, their snarling faces inches apart.
Shrike, who had slain several of the corpses on the field, stared unblinking into the mercurial eyes of his opponent. These eyes belonged to a knight whom the court considered quite beautiful, and it was said those eyes altered their colour with his moods. To Shrike, they had appeared gleaming green when the battle commenced. Now they’d faded to an icy blue and paled with every passing second. The knight’s lips had taken on a blue tinge as well, twisted in a lupine snarl to reveal doubled canines as sharp as his longsword. The blood-slicked blade crossed against Shrike’s own to form a shining scarlet X between their close-pressed chests. The well-honed edges—Shrike’s with more nicks and notches—scraped against the ringed mail beneath the knight’s tabard and scored the leather armour over Shrike’s tunic.
“Yield!” the knight hissed between clenched teeth.
Some scant moments before, an errant shield-bash had split Shrike’s lip open. Shrike had cut down the shield’s wielder, who now lay groaning into the dirt a stone’s throw away. Still, Shrike’s lip bled. He licked the blood from his chin now and darted his head forward between the crossed blades to crush the knight’s mouth beneath his kiss.
The knight jerked his head back—or attempted to, at least, before Shrike bit his tongue.
And in that instant of shock and outrage, Shrike sank his dagger into the hollow beneath the knight’s flailing left arm.
~
Oak King Holly King is a gay Victorian fae romance, available now wherever fine books are found!
Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance, Oak King Holly King!
~
The warm rough palm laid against his own as if, like pages from a book, they were meant to nestle together for centuries, with their interlaced fingers as binding. Wren had lost count of how oft he touched Shrike whilst in the fae realms. Every instance gave him the same thrill settling into comfort, like a wave crashing over the shore followed by the gentle lapping of the tide. How happily Wren could sink beneath that sea and sleep in bliss.
~
Oak King Holly King is a gay Victorian fae romance, available now wherever fine books are found!
