#I love forced cohabitation don’t get me wrong

[bellarkeandclintashaandsuch]

Kang was honest with his grandma about how his dad’s behavior makes him feel like his dad doesn’t think he can achieve anything, and instead of talking to the dad about this situation, so the dad can make it right, grandma instead forced the kid whose scholarship she controls to move in with his former bully, so his former bully can prove to his dad that he can get into uni. We know Sailom is already falling for Kang, but grandma can’t know that. This can’t have been her real first thought. She’s gotta see that Kang is the one in love and definitely gonna blow it if left to his own devices, so she’s trying to set them up, right? Otherwise, grandma, please 😂

[s-brant]

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

[sector-i-closed]

She's a Goddess?

Hades!Yunho x Persephone!reader x Hades!Seonghwa since I decided to do another of this au with 2 out of 8 makes one king

Warning: Smut, also use of c*ck sl*t among other things

You were becoming increasingly anxious of the fact that in a few days you would be leaving the place that you called home in the underworld that you had grown to love.

The world outside reminded you of too many things that you wished to forget but to your disappointment it was arranged for you to visit the outside world and cohabitate with your mother for six months out of the year.

That knowledge in and of itself made you feel extra stressed and today you were extremely antsy while Yunho played fetch with Cerberus, or Cerbie as the rulers affectionately called him.

The tired three headed hound eventually coming to you to check on you and get it's pats on all of it's heads before going back to his outpost at the gates to take a nap and be on guard to prevent souls from escaping the underworld, leaving the lavish living room behind with you and Yunho.

You fidgeted nervously as you sat on the plush velvet couch beside Yunho, "Are you feeling unwell, love?" The tall male asked with furrowed brows as he watched your pouty expression and inability to keep still.

"I'm fine. Not looking forward to being away from here though..." You sighed softly and nearly became breathless from the mere touch when Yunho's large hand moved to take your dainty hand into his own.

"We all aren't looking forward to you leaving either. It's never something that we can get used to and we always eagerly await your return, Y/N." Yunho stated calmly, contrary to what you felt inside of yourself.

Your jaw clenched from anxiety without intending to, groaning to yourself as you held his hand, "I appreciate it greatly but I don't want to think about it right now..." You admitted softly, glancing down at the male's lap yearningly, being unable to state what you wanted at the moment.

"What would you like to think about?" Yunho quirks an eyebrow at you, studying you closely as you felt your face heat up dramatically.

"I- I just..." You trailed off in a whiny tone, as the weight of his hand rested on your thigh.

"Use your words, kitten. I might get the wrong idea if you don't tell me what you're wanting to think about." His voice comes out dark and steady while keeping his gaze fixed on you directly.

You huffed out loud, uncertain how to say what you wanted without being so straightforward about it.

Finally you gave up and spoke what was at the forefront of your mind, "I feel a little stressed and I want to suck your dick..."

Yunho offers an amused smirk as he squeezes your thigh, "True to our cock slut's nature~" He chuckles low and darkly.

Your eyes lower in embarrassment and immediately afterwards he grabs your chin, forcing you to look him directly in his smothering dark orbs, his aura intimidating and chilling and you were already trembling like a leaf.

"Did you think that you could just tell me that without following through with it little one? Down on your knees in front of daddy and unfasten my pants. You know what to do." Yunho growls out an order, to which you immediately drop to your knees and scrabble at his pants clumsily as he watched.

A wave of embarrassment and arousal washing over you while the male teased you for your eagerness. Eventually you freed his semi hard length from his confining clothes.

Without hesitation you leaned forward while holding eye contact with him, swirling your tongue across his velvety tip and collecting the heady essence on your tongue.

"Are you only going to play around when you know I'm anticipating~?" Yunho quirks an eyebrow while you drooled uncontrollably on his length.

A soft whimper leaving you while you eased yourself down to accommodate his hard length.

"That's my good cock slut. I knew you would get the feel for it shortly." Yunho chuckled evilly, watching you take as much of him into your mouth and down your throat as possible, drool dribbling out of your mouth embarrassingly and pooling on his skin.

"What a messy little baby~ She's a goddess?" Seonghwa purrs smoothly from behind Yunho as he stops to watch you suck the latter's dick.

"Mmph!" You cried out as one of Yunho's hands quickly finds your hair and pulls at your scalp roughly, coaxing moisture to seep from your eyes and down your cheeks.

"That's what I thought but her true nature is a cock slut." Yunho declares as he guides your head movements to bob at the precise rhythm to get him off.

"See~? Like this. I'll allow you to take it from here, little one." Yunho released your hair to watch you pleasure him, "You're doing much better now, pup." You allow yourself to moan in pleasure as you hollowed your cheeks around his member.

"She's always been a great learner when it's something that she wants." Seonghwa comments as he discreetly strokes himself in his pants while watching you give Yunho head.

Your throat burned from the stretch of the intrusion disregarding your gag reflex, the thickness of his shaft making it difficult for you to accommodate him but you managed until he came down your throat with a masculine groan that brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

"You did so well, pup." Yunho smiled at you while observing your flushed face as you pulled off of him and swallowed down the hot, saline essence that lingered in your mouth.

"My turn now. Come here, doll~ No mess on my clean trousers or I will punish you." Seonghwa murmurs in a seductive tone, eyes narrowed while watching you meekly approach him and lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

You surprised yourself with how steady your fingers were when you undid his pants, freeing up his hard length and going down on him almost immediately, "Hold on... It's meant to be enjoyed. I know our cock slut is eager but it's almost pathetic how eager you are for it."

You whine around his shaft, eyes widening almost comically when Seonghwa begins to fuck into your mouth roughly, "Just for daddy, right?" You whimper affirmatively and tear up, moaning out in pleasure with each stroke of his hips fucking into your face and the low grunts and praises that leave him until he finally releases into your mouth with a raspy groan.

You take in all of his seed into your mouth, milking his slit dry of every sweet drop of his cum until he pulls you off of his cock.

"You were very useful for both of us~ What would our cock slut want for a reward? We might grant your wish." Seonghwa asks with interest while fastening his pants back up as you thought for a moment.

"I w-want Hongjoongie~" You reply hoarsely, looking up at Seonghwa hopefully with glazed over eyes.

"That's so cute." He answers with a voice that still dripped with sensuality, "We'll see what we can do~"

[masterjedilenawrites]

"Youre so full of light, I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it" with crosshair x reader? is that an option?

Awww yesss, I’m happy to write anything for this grumpy toothpick! 🖤

Crosshair x reader | 2k words

“You’re so full of light... I’m afraid I’ll be the one to quench it” from this prompt list.

Crosshair was avoiding you. That much was obvious.

At first you'd thought he was having a bad day and let him have his space. But then it kept happening. Never looking at you. Leaving the room as soon as you entered. Pretending not to hear your questions. You were back to where you'd started with him, all those rotations ago when the Bad Batch had first arrived on your home world to help drive out some troublesome pirates. He'd been a tough cookie to crack, but slowly, day by day, you'd managed to draw him more and more out of his shell. And the more he did, the more you fell for him.

But now he'd retreated back behind his walls again and you had no clue why. Had you said or done something to scare him? You weren't sure, but you also weren't disheartened. You knew someone as special as Crosshair would take time and patience to bond with. You'd pull him back out eventually, you were confident.

An opportunity came when Hunter announced one day the need for the marksman to scout a nearby pirate camp, located in a clearing just beneath a forested ridge of land. You knew the area yourself and convinced the Sergeant you'd be a good assistant for Crosshair's recon mission. The sniper had had his helmet on when Hunter sent you off with him, so you could only imagine whatever salty expression he sported beneath it.

The two of you trudged along in silence for a while at first. Occasionally you'd suggest a path to take, or he'd caution you from stepping on the more unstable parts of the terrain hidden beneath the underbrush. Otherwise, you let him be, and instead focused most of your attention on taking in your surroundings. Even in the midst of trouble, you still made a point to appreciate the beauty of your planet. The curved and knotted trees, each as unique as a snowflake, with their wide leaves fluttering in the grasp of a stray breeze. The tiny beams of sunlight that sliced through the foliage and illuminated the otherwise dingy forest floor. The echoing songs of the winged creatures that danced above your heads, ignorant to the conflict of the more sentient beings they cohabited with.

Eventually you couldn't help yourself, and you started to hum a song of your own. It was a tune you made up as you went, each note created to express whatever new feeling sparked within you as you ventured further into the forest. You were hardly a composer, and you were certain that even when humming you were off-key, but it didn't matter. The song made you feel light and free, a feeling that was rare but welcomed wherever you could find it.

You realized you were being watched, and turned your head to see Crosshair's worn helmet trained in your direction. He quickly averted his gaze, but it was enough to show you he'd been staring for a while. You hid a smile, not wanting to seem like you were teasing.

"Am I annoying you?"

"No," he said, low and quick. You noticed his grip on his rifle tightened ever so slightly.

"Are there any songs you like? I can try to sing if I know them."

He did not respond, continuing to plod alongside you in silence. Well, at least you'd gotten one word out of him.

You soon arrived at a part of the ridge that gave you the perfect view of the pirate encampment below. You nestled in the crook of a large tree while Crosshair laid himself prone on the ground next to you. He used the scope of his rile to get a better look at the camp, muttering details he thought important while you logged them on a holopad for future strategizing.

"Kriff," he growled. You peered around the trunk of the tree, as if you could see whatever had caught his eye from such a distance. You could only make out little dots of tents and people scattered in the valley below, so you turned back to him for explanation. "Children."

You hummed knowingly, which seemed to fluster him.

"That doesn't concern you?" His scope was abandoned as his helmet lifted to face you.

You shrugged. "What, criminals can't fall in love and start families?"

You couldn't see his scowl but you could feel it. You weren't sure why his grumpiness made you want to laugh sometimes, but you hid your amusement with another shrug, not wanting to upset him further, not when he seemed to be more open to talking to you again.

"Well it's going to make this mission much more difficult," he grumbled, starting to pack up his rile.

"Yeah..." you agreed, but you didn't sound as defeated as he did. "We'll just have to get creative. We'll figure it out."

He was crawling over to your spot behind the tree but paused at your words, his helmet tilting as if in thought for a moment. You raised your eyebrows at him, wishing you could somehow read the marksman's mind. You were certain his thoughts were fascinating; they usually were with the quiet ones.

He settled into the space next to you and fumbled around in one of his pouches, eventually bringing out a couple of small ration packs. You smiled in gratitude as you took the one he offered you. You hadn't realized how famished you'd grown from this outing.

"It's not much," he mumbled as if apologizing. He worked on freeing himself from his helmet and you tried not to stare at the face that emerged from it.

"It's still something," you smiled through bites of... well, whatever it was you were eating. It tasted more like wood than food and you tried to believe it at least had some nutritional value as you forced it down.

Crosshair was shaking his head at your words.

"What?" you asked. He only shook his head again.

You tried to drop it, but your patience was starting to wear a little faster than usual. He was so close to you, and yet he felt further away than ever. You were both angled so that it'd be natural to look at each other, but you could see him purposefully looking anywhere else. You moved your knee experimentally, brushing against his and causing it to jerk away suddenly. Even beneath all his armor you could tell his muscles were tense. Something was clearly bothering him and you hated the thought that you were somehow the cause of it.

"Crosshair," you said, trying to keep your voice soft and non-threatening, but still speaking loud enough for him to know you were trying to get his attention. He reluctantly looked at you, his fingers curling around the rile that lay across his lap in clear display of unease. He almost looked sick. "What's wrong?"

His frown deepened, further than you ever thought possible.

"Cross," you said again, even softer now, scooting yourself just a little bit closer. You felt like you were approaching an injured animal. You needed to be careful if you wanted to help him, lest his suddenly snap and chase you away.

"Nothing's wrong," he huffed, still determined to keep his thoughts private. You didn't move closer, only looked him up and down, trying to figure him out.

"If I did something to upset you," you said slowly, "please let me know, so I can try to make amends. I don't want to be a burden to you."

He sighed, but it wasn't as frustrated or annoyed as it usually sounded. He brought his hands up to his face and dragged them down, slow and forlorn. When he spoke, it was so quiet you could barely understand. "You're not a burden."

You squinted at him, summoning back what patience you'd briefly lost before, waiting.

"I'm the burden," he said a little louder. "You, you're so..."

His eyes cast about the forest beside him, as if he might find the words he wanted painted on the trees. You held your breath, unsure what they could possibly be.

"So full of light," he finally said, allowing his gaze to finally meet yours. "And... I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it."

You blinked as it became clear to you the cause of his turmoil.

"Your response to everything is positive," he continued rather quickly, as if to get his thoughts out before he could stop himself. "All I see is hardship and difficulty. You sing songs and act like everything is beautiful."

"Most things are," you couldn't help but say, which only caused him to glare at you, proving his point.

"This forest is not," he said. "There are a hundred places someone could've hid and got the jump on us. Those pirates are not... They can have as many children as they want, but they are fools for bringing them along to a raid. These rations are not..."

He threw the crumpled wrapper at you and probably would've continued his ranting had you not let out reached out for his hand and stopped him.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said with a slight chuckle, only resting your hand atop his, not yet holding it fully. "I'm an optimist, you're a cynic. So what?"

"So..." his voice slipped back into a growl. But he trailed off, unable to explain why it mattered to him that you were so different from each other. You had a guess as to why now; it had become quite clear to you the sniper had feelings for you that were very similar to the ones you had for him.

"You want to know what I think?" you asked with a smile. You waited for his nod to continue. "I think we need each other. I think you need me to ease your worries, show you that not everything is as difficult as you make it. And I need you to keep me grounded. Keep me safe from all the threats I can't see. We make a good team, you and I. That's what I think."

Crosshair looked at you and it was if the walls he'd built up were slowly lowering down again, just as they had when you'd first gotten to know him. The lines on his face, usually so sharp and prominent, softened as your words began to settle within him. You much preferred seeing him like this, relaxed and at ease.

"You won't ever be a burden to me," you said, now letting yourself cross the gap that remained between you, saddling up alongside him so your sides were flushed together and your hands, now holding each other properly, rested on your thigh. "My entire planet is at war. Most of my friends have left or are dead. I don't even have a home anymore. It's going to take a lot more than your grumpy ass to quench my light."

You rested your head against the stiff plastoid on his shoulder. It wasn't comfortable, but it was more to show him the truth of your words. You trusted him. You enjoyed him. You wanted to be close to him.

He didn't say anything, but then again, he was better with actions anyway. After a beat, he let go of your hand and moved to wrap his arm around you instead, pulling you into the crook of his shoulder and placing a toothpick between his teeth with a contented sigh. You let out a happy sound of your own, humming your made-up song as the two of you rested against the tree.

You knew this probably wasn't the end of Crosshair's insecurities, that you had a lot of work ahead of you to continue convincing him that he was wanted and worthy, that you were strong and safe. But it was a good start, and you were more than willing to keep going, knowing the reward of Crosshair's love at the end would make it all worth it.

[dramashii]

Against my better judgment, I watched the first 3 episodes of Big Mouth rather than do my backlogs. Objectively it’s a good drama: fast-paced, well-budgeted, and interesting. I can genuinely see this become something great if it stays consistent, and if the mystery unravels really well. But honestly, heavy dramas like this have never been something I gravitated towards to. I have mainly chosen to watch this because of Lee Jong Suk. By default, I always check out his dramas. 

I have watched dramas of similar genre in the past, but I wouldn’t say that I picked them up just because I was craving to watch a thriller or a mystery. Usually it’s because of an actor or an actress, or because of the buzz surrounding it. I have always considered myself more of a romcom girl.

I have gotten into my drama-watching hobby because of Korean drama romcoms. You Who Came from the Stars, Master’s Sun, Princess Hours, The Greatest Love, Lovers in Paris, Full House, Secret Garden; they have been part of the Kdrama-watcher starter pack when I was just starting to get into Kdramas, and I love them: cliche, flawed, ridiculous and all. I have enjoyed them.

Don’t get me wrong, the quality, production, and the plot of Kdramas these days are 100 times much better than they have been in the past. They have become more socially-aware, and they frequently integrate topics that are more relevant in today’s time. This is important because we need diversity in television.

But I can’t help miss the days when romcoms use to rule the Kdrama scene. Yes, the time when the rich man always falls in love with the poor undeserving woman; the time when a series of absurd events lead a man and a woman to be in close proximity with each other (bonus points if it’s forced cohabitation), or the time when fake dating always almost lead to a happily ever after. They can be problematic, some might not have even aged well if analyzed in today’s context, but I miss the silliness and exaggeration of it all. 

Thought-provoking dramas are great but sometimes I just want to turn off my brain and watch the most unlikely people fall in love through the most unlikely and out-of-this world events. They just don’t make dramas like those anymore. I miss it so much. 

[justthehiddleswrites]

Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OFC | Chapter 7

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him.  He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim.  An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond.  Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.  

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds.  But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.   A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love.  Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life.  A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them.  Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter: Loki will do whatever it takes to find out what is wrong with Alexis. 

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst,  Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

-

Alexis groaned as the medics lifted her onto the gurney, but she didn’t wake.

“Take care with her!” Loki snapped at them, rushing to Alexis’s side, grabbing her limp hand. “She is pregnant.”

The medics shared a glare fully prepared to inform him they knew how to do their job when Tony caught their eye and waved them off. Best not to make Loki any more angry than he was. At least not until they sorted Alexis.

“Of course, sir.” The taller of the two nodded at Loki. “We are heading down Dr. Cho. I assume you are riding down with us?”

Loki nodded and followed them to the elevator. The eyes of every Avengers followed the three of them along with the gurney and willed the elevator doors to ding close. The moment the doors closed, Tony spun around to face the room.

“Okay, everyone has exactly three seconds to explain WHAT THE HELL is going on?”

The room exploded into conversation as people pointed fingers and yelled accusations and theories. Steve, Tony and Bruce cornered Thor to pump him for the “full story.” Nat sat quietly off to the side, worried about Alexis. A loud whistle cut through the din. Everyone turned to face Clint.

“They’re in a relationship.” He stated with no facial expression.

Tony blinked at him. “Well, yeah, a weird baby daddy, cohabitating thing. We all—”

“No, I mean they are in a romantic relationship. They are sleeping together. If you ask me, they’re in love with each other.” Clint huffed. He stepped forward to come toe to toe with Tony. “They know about you and Banner’s bet.”

Bruce blushed and flailed. “There’s no bet. I don’t know what you are talki—”

“When are you going to learn? I hear everything that goes on around here?!” Clint slammed his hand against the sofa. “I was in the vent when you made the bet. We decided to teach the two of you a lesson.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me, Loki, and Alexis. They pretended like they were on the outs, breaking up to get even with you two meddling.” Clint crossed his arms.

“So is this fainting spell just part of an elaborate prank to get back at Tony and Bruce?” Steve piped up. “I should have done Loki would pull some sort of shit like that.”

“It’s no joke.” Thor finally joined the conversation. “I know my brother better than any of you. That was genuine fear in Loki’s eyes. Whatever is ailing Lady Alexis is no prank.”

Everyone stared at Thor in shock, confusion, and anxiety. Nat snapped out of her daze.

“I’m going down there.” She stomped off towards the elevator. Clint caught her elbow.

“Nat. Give them space. Give him space.”

Her mouth fell open. “But I can…” she protested.

“No, you can’t. There is nothing you can do down there but be in the way.” Clint continued.

“JARVIS!” Tony yelled into the air. “Send hourly updates on Dr. Randall to all the Avengers.”

“Yes, sir.” The clipped British accent responded.

“Thanks, Tony.” Nat gave the group a small smile.

Tony’s own brain was running fast, but he kept his worries to himself. He clapped his hands together.

“Alright with that sorted, they get on with the day. The world isn’t going to save itself.”

With hesitant motions, the rest of the team moved along. Clint disappeared to wherever he disappeared to. Bruce headed with Tony to the labs while Nat and Steve headed to the training facilities to work off some excess energy. Thor headed off to his quarters, too concerned over his brother and Alexis to get much else done.

-

Dr. Cho relegated Loki to a hard plastic chair off to the side as she examined Alexis. Loki paced instead. He could see everything that was happening through the clear glass panels separating the examination room. Things did not appear to be going well by the expression on Dr. Cho’s face. Three hours later, Dr. Cho came out to update Loki.

“There is nothing physically wrong I can find with her, Loki.” Cho sighed.

“And the baby?” Loki wrung his hands.

“Strong heartbeat, moving around. Do you want to know the sex? I did an ultrasound.”

Loki’s brows rose. He hadn’t thought about knowing the sex of the baby. His eyes darted to Alexis’s lying on the hospital bed. Hooked up to tubes and machines, eyes closed. It was a punch to his gut.

“We haven’t discussed it. I will wait until she wakes up to decide, if that is alright with you.”

Helen nodded. “Of course, Loki. I am still waiting on a few lab results to come back, and then I am sending them off to a few specialists. I would suggest going back to your apartment where you can be more comfortable. I will make sure JARVIS alerts you of any changes in her condition.”

“If it is all the same, I will just stay here.” Loki widened his stance as if Dr. Cho would attempt to forcibly remove him from the medbay. If it were any other circumstances, she would point out the 180 turn of events since the last time Loki was here with Alexis.

“I can only offer you a hard plastic chair.” She gestured at the standard issue chairs throughout the rooms. “And strong coffee.”

Loki gave her a sad smile. “I have been in worse situations. With far less pleasant company.”

Dr. Cho smiled back and then nodded before walking away to analyze all of Alexis’s results. Loki pulled a chair close enough to Alexis’s bed to hold her hand and sat down as his fingers weaved in with hers.

“Please wake up, darling.” Loki pleaded. The only answer he got was the steady beep of the machines monitoring all of Alexis’s vitals.

-

“Brother…” Thor rocked Loki by the shoulder. Loki’s long frame crunched up on two hard plastic chairs. His arm tucked under his head to act as a pillow. Nothing about his posture looked comfortable. After several hours of no changes in Alexis’s condition, Loki dozed off.

“Brother… wake up.” Thor shook him more forcefully this time. Which rewarded him with Loki snatching his wrist with his quick reflexes.

“Must you continue to wake me, Brother? Leave me in peace.” Loki groaned as he unfolded himself, joints cracking and popping. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s almost midnight, Loki. You never came back. I came to check on you.”

Loki glanced out to the window to confirm that it was indeed the middle of the night. He gave Thor a wry smile. “Well, as you can see,” Loki gestured up and down his body. “I am alive and well, so leave me be.” He waved Thor away.

Thor sighed and spun a chair backwards to sit near Loki. “While you may be alive, you are clearly not well, Loki.” He spied his brother’s hand intertwined with Alexis’s. “Barton told us.”

Loki’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t lose her, Brother. I love her.” His voice hoarse and cracking. “And our child…” Loki’s head dropped to the bed.

Thor reached over to comfort Loki, not knowing exactly what to say. “Lady Alexis is strong. How else could she have endured all these weeks living with you?”

The two gods chuckled at Thor’s joke. “Very true. I have not been on my best behavior.” Loki added.

“And now?” Thor raised an eyebrow.

“I have definitely not been on my best behavior.” Loki smirked.

“You were always one for mischief when it came to your lovers.”

Loki’s mood darkened, thinking back to Sigrun and his father. And the events leading him here. Alexis and his unborn child. He wondered where he would have ended up if he had agreed to the arranged marriage and Odin’s meddling. Loki imagined miserable in a completely different way than he was now.

“You were right, Brother.”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

Loki gave another thin smile. “About love being worth the trouble.”

Thor chuckled and smiled. “I have not always been the best at telling you, but I have only wanted the best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I am. I was. I am?” Loki questioned. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Thor stood and offered his hand. “Go upstairs, Loki. Eat and sleep in your bed. I will stay with Lady Alexis for the rest of the night.”

Loki’s eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, Thor.”

The two embraced and Loki wearily rose and left the medbay to sleep and eat before the next day. Once he left, Thor settled his oversized body into one of the undersized chairs. He stared at Alexis’s still body, her breathing shallow and even. The only sound was the constant beeping of the machines.

“I imagine you to be some kind of witch.” Thor spoke to Alexis. “Because it would take powerful magic to tame the beast that is Loki’s heart.”

-

Three Weeks Later

Alexis was still in a coma, and Loki was no closer to any answers why.

“What do you mean there is nothing physically wrong with her?!” He bellowed at Dr. Cho. “She is in a coma!” Loki jabbed a finger at Alexis’s room.

Tony arranged to move her to a more private area of the medbay and set up a second small bed in the corner since Loki refused to leave. Meals appeared from thin air. Although he suspected Nat was to blame. Even Steve came down to offer what little comfort he could. Loki now stalked the floor. Tony moved all non-essential personnel to another part of the Tower after getting several HR complaints.

“I don’t know what else to tell you. Her vital signs are stable, as are the baby’s. She is just asleep. By all accounts, she should be awake.” Dr. Cho explained.

Loki flipped a table, sending his dinner flying around the room. Helen took several steps back.

“UNACCEPTABLE!” Loki screamed.

Alexis’s machines rang an alarm, and the screens flashed. Helen rushed to the machines while Loki grabbed Alexis’s hand.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Shouldn’t you be apologizing to me?” Cho piped up while she checked some printouts.

“Apologies.” He said with an eye roll. “What happened?”

“Her vitals spiked and then dropped. Triggering the alarms.” Helen glanced over at him with a grim expression. “They are stabilizing.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “What else?”

Dr. Cho sighed. “They are stabilizing at lower levels. Whatever is keeping her unconscious seems to be for lack of a better word… draining her.”

Loki stormed out the medbay without another word.

-

Thor was just getting ready to relax for a meal in his apartment when Loki burst through the door without bothering to knock.

“Do you mind, Loki?” Thor rose to face his brother. “I am about to eat.”

“I need to go to Asgard.”

Thor stared at Loki. “I don’t think that is a…” Thor then realized what happened. “What is going on with Lady Alexis?”

Loki collapsed onto the back of the couch. “In simple terms, she is dying. And no one can help her here. She needs our healers. I need to go to Asgard.”

“You realize Father is in Asgard.”

Loki gazed up at him, his eyes rimmed with red and sunken in surrounded by dark circles.

“I am well aware of the implications of my return. But if you were in my place, if your love was slowly dying from the inside out, wouldn’t you do everything in your power to save her?”

Thor sighed. “We can leave within the hour. I will inform the rest of the team of our departure while you make arrangements for Alexis to travel.”

Loki nodded and Thor headed for the door. Loki grabbed his arm. “Thank you, Thor.”

Thor covered Loki’s hand with this own and squeezed. “I am sure the healers will be able to help.”

“I hope so.” Loki replied glumly. “Because I am out of options.”

-

They were greeted by not only Heimdall but Frigga as well when they stepped back onto Asgard.

“Loki!” Frigga rushed to his side. Alexis’s body slumped against his chest while Loki cradled her in his arms. She noticed the roundness of Alexis’s belly. “I see what the fuss is about now. Let us get her to the healers. We can catch up later. Thor, the Allfather requested your audience.”

Thor nodded and took off towards the palace as Loki and Frigga whisked Alexis to the healers.

-

Loki paced outside the doors of the healing chambers while Frigga sat with him, reading a book.

“You will wear the floor out.” she commented with a smirk.

“Just another thing for Odin to blame me for. The replacement of the palace floors.” Loki sneered.

Frigga ignored Loki and pressed on with other things. “She’s pretty. How did you meet?”

Loki spun around to face her. “Do you care? Does it matter?”

Frigga set her book down on the chair as she stood to face Loki. “It matters when she is carrying my grandchild.” Frigga reached up to cup Loki’s cheek. “It matters when she has also is carrying my son’s heart.”

Loki gazed at his mother with wet eyes. “I—”

The doors opened and Loki’s mask fell back into place.

“You can come in now.” The attendant announced. Loki pushed past her.

Alexis laid out on the stone slab. Three attendants hovered over her. One operated the Soul Forge while another took notes. A third injected something into Alexis’s arm.

“What are you giving her!? She is—”

“We are well aware of her condition.” The head healer spoke. “I must admit it stumped us at first. But once we calibrated the Soul Forge for Vanir physiology, it was clear what was going on.”

“Which is exactly what?” Loki blinked as his brain processed the rest of what was said. “Wait, Vanir?!”

Frigga’s eyes darted between her son and the healer, ready to step in if necessary. The healer, oblivious to what was going on, continued explaining.

“In the second trimester, Vanir babies’ magical abilities manifest, feeding off the mother’s energy. The injection masks the magic until birth. She will need to continue taking it once a week until she delivers.”

Loki stumbled backwards. “Will she—”

“Recover? There should be no lasting effects to her or the baby. Except maybe a wicked headache and increased appetite.”

Loki allowed a few tears to fall onto his cheeks. Frigga grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Thank you.”

Frigga cleared her throat. “Perhaps we could have the room for a few moments?”

The attendants nodded. “Of course, my Queen.” Everyone shuffled out of the room with a rustle of fabric. Loki made no move until the heavy doors closed behind him with a thud. Loki collapsed against Frigga.

“I take from your response, you were unaware of Alexis’s lineage.”

Loki gulped. “She never mentioned it.” He kneeled besides Alexis, the color returned to her cheeks. “You are going to be fine, my love. We have much to discuss when you wake.” Alexis groaned. Loki kissed her cheek. “It’s time to wake up.”

Frigga smiled at the sight of her son so fully devoted to someone. And the prospect of a grandchild. Her first grandchild. She would be lying if she said Loki was her first guess of the son to give her a grandchild first.

Alexis’s eyes fluttered open. “Loki… where am I?”

Loki’s tears wetted her skin as he sobbed. “Home. My home.” He smiled at her. “I thought I had lost you.”

She blinked a few times to adjust to the light. “Home? The Tower?” She noticed they were in a massive room with stone walls. “Where are we?”

Loki helped her sit up. “On—”

The doors slammed open and Odin strolled in, followed closely by Thor. “—Asgard and you will be leaving presently.”

Loki stepped in front of Alexis. “She will do no such thing. She is sick.”

“She does not belong here, Loki. And neither do you.” Odin responded cooly.

Loki nodded. “Still as inflexible as always, Father.”

“Loki, this is your Father?” Alexis peeked from around him.

Odin’s eyes caught Alexis, and he froze, the blood draining from his face for a moment before the mask of indifference fell back into place. But Loki and Frigga caught it.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Father, what have you done?”

[llendrinall]

Hello, Endrina, I hope you are well!

I was recently introduced to a new ship: Snarry. Never though I could like it, but the fics I read were very well written, so I can see potential now.

What are your thoughts on this ship (if you have any), would you ever write Snarry?

Actually, I'm asking this bc I miss your Snape. So maybe, the question is more, can we have more Snape?

Sending love and inspiration, tai <3

Hello, Tea.

I’m well. Busier than I would like, so I don’t have the focus I need to write long-form, but I’m doing very well. I even got my vaccine!

So, Snarry. It’s not a pairing I see myself writing. It has too many issues and some of my biggest squicks, like teacher/student relationships (god, no) and age difference. The age difference I can get past, because it’s so prevalent that I’m inured to it. I think most, if not all, of Jane Austen’s heroines have +-10 years difference, for example, so one learns not to pay attention. Still, it’s not a pairing that calls to me.

That said, while I won’t write it and it’s not my first reading choice, I have read it occasionally and I agree that the fics were quite good. They managed to make a difficult and very unlikely couple believable, so kudos to the authors. I just hope none of them pursue a career in politics or public relations.

You ask about Snape. The thing about him (and most of HP characters) is that there is an incoherent element to them.

Snape stands on the edge between hero and villain, between human and monster. Snape is a survivor of childhood abuse and teenager bullying, the poor dear. Snape became a supremacist and joined a terrorist group, the bastard. Snape is a horrible, horrible, teacher. Snape is the only remotely competent actor in the Order of Phoenix.

I actually think this is the reason why the HP fandom is so popular, after so many years, and still produces so many fics. Almost all characters have this tension (I’m actually struggling to think of a character without internal strain. Fleur, maybe?), this internal conflict as two things that cannot be exist in the same person. A character cannot stand that internal contradiction for long, and yet it is never resolved in the books. Was Dumbledore well meaning, if inefficient? Or was he a manipulative bastard?

Because the characters are left in that state of incoherence, we write fic and meta to resolve that tension. To do that, we have to choose some aspects and bury or hand wave others because they simply can’t cohabit. This means that when people say Snape was a creepy bastard who doesn’t deserve our good opinion, they are right. It also means that when I choose to see him a kinder light, as a flawed man who is denied the chance to heal from his trauma, I am also right.

My Snape.

What I like best about him is that he is a very efficient and unapologetic jerk. Even in the most positive portrayals (like The Secret Language of Plants) Snape is the personification of drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth. He doesn’t play well with others.

Because he is very efficient, there is the danger of going the Sherlock route (or House route, or… you know, any other show) in which his genius is used to justify him being a cruel prick (sidenote: I want more Sherlock fics in which John gently points out that when Sherlock does X thing or says Y he is hurting people’s feelings, and Sherlock adapting his behaviour in hilariously wrong but well-meaning ways). I prefer to use Snape’s cantankerous attitude to bring up conflict and humour. Snape is the man who will stab Lockhart to shut him up. He is also the friend you hex in an attempt to re-educate him into being a tolerable member of society.

What else? I see Snape as a gay man. The foggy ficlet I’m writing right now might be the first time where I am unsure, he may be bisexual there. Mostly, I prefer if his relationship to Lily is one of friendship. I actually think it’s nicer, and speaks better of him, if his heel-face turn is born out of friendship rather than a desire to save the life of the girl who got away. It’s still love, just not sexual or romantic love.

Some other thoughts about him.

- He is a bad teacher. Not that there are good teachers, since no one goes through teacher training, but he is bad and doesn’t like the job.

- He is a brilliant researcher and experimenter. He would be much happier in a university-setting where you can get away with not seeing students and at least the ones you are forced to see will be slightly interested in the subject.

- Canon Snape went through a lot of trauma and wasn’t allowed to heal. Instead he was picked up by Voldemort and Dumbledore to be used as they wished. If he had gotten away, even if he didn’t go to therapy, just time and distance would have done wonders.

- Despite his acerbic personality, Snape is very good at managing teams. We know that all the other Hogwarts’ houses gang up against Slytherin, and yet until Harry arrived, Slytherin had won the House Cup six times in a row. Six times. This can’t be attributed to Snape giving a disproportionate amount of points to his students, because he only has so many occasions to do so and in any case it would only work one time before the rest of the teachers started to give points by the hundreds. Either the Slytherin students were so good that other teachers, despite their animosity, were forced to recognize their talent; or Snape provoked the other houses to fight between them and grabbed the cup from under them. Either way, Snape is wasted in that school.

- No, really, who gets a bunch of teenagers and turns them into such a well oiled machine?

I want him to fake his death and go live in the French-Speaking side of Canada and finally get a chance to figure out who he is. And when Percy Weasley inevitably stumbles across him, they will simply nod at each other, share a look of “I’m so tired of their bullshit” and carry on without a word.

[cheri-translates]

Poetry in the wind (a translated one-shot)

This one-shot, 我知道风里有诗句, was originally written by 你想笑死我继承我的公主裙 on Weibo, who has given me permission to translate it!

Mildly suggestive, but nothing graphic!

[ 1 ]

“Boss, are you heading back to your own place today?” Kiki’s voice drifts to your ear.

Walking inattentively with your head lowered, you’re caught off guard. You nod. “Huh? That’s right.”

From a certain point in time, everyone started assuming that you were cohabiting with Gavin.

It was probably due to the increasing number of feminine jackets, towels and clothes you’ve been leaving behind in Gavin’s wardrobe, which previously only contained his uniforms...

Or maybe it was how whenever Gavin set out on missions, you'd make a rare trip home and realise that your most frequently used lipstick has been left in Gavin’s bedside drawer...

You recall that early morning - how he was shaving in front of the mirror, pyjamas not worn properly. It was almost impossible for you to look away, eyes drawn to his faintly discernible pectoral muscles...

The lower half of his face is hidden behind the razor and foam. His gaze meets yours in the mirror, trying his best to maintain a veneer of calm while his ears and the back of his neck redden.

Just when you’re about to tease him, you’re lifted off the ground and set atop the ice cold vanity unit. Your hands instinctively shift backwards, trying to reach for something. But all you manage to grip is a tube of lipstick.

He holds onto your shoulders, giving you a deep kiss tasting of peppermint. A cooling breeze surrounds you.

In a hazy state, you hear your own voice, sweet and cloying. “Gavin, mm, it’s very cold. I don’t want to do it here.”

While coquettish whines leave your lips, your body is less dishonest, clawing uninhibitedly at the large opening of his pyjamas.

As though he has reached the limits of his patience, Gavin huffs softly, his hand supporting the back of your head as he leans down, sucking and biting lightly on your neck repeatedly.

At this moment, your Evol channels a premonition of imminent danger, so you attempt to pull away for a break. But he doesn’t give you a chance to back out. 

In the end, he forces you to call him “Senior” again and again.

Afterwards, he helps you put on your nightgown, and makes a call to your office to apply for a day of leave on your behalf. In your hand, you’re still clutching onto that tube of lipstick.

Your face involuntarily heats up at the memory.

In fact, your Mr Gavin has never expressly invited you to cohabit with him. Instead, it appears as though you’ve forcefully integrated yourself into his life.

“Then again... there’s nothing wrong with a girl taking the initiative!” Although you comfort yourself with such a notion, you still feel pangs of unhappiness surging in the depths of your heart.

Which is why you’re quietly returning to your own apartment now that Officer Gavin is out on a mission.

-

[ 2 ]

It’s the first night since Gavin left for his mission. You’re lying on the pink bed you haven’t seen in a long time. But sleep doesn’t arrive.

“I really want to hear Gavin’s voice. He should be busy - that’s why he hasn’t called...” You assuage yourself.

But without the sense of security typically provided by the cushioning of his arm, the sense of loneliness is almost unbearable.

At this moment, his special ringtone sounds. Your body moves more quickly than your brain, and you answer his call in the next second.

His voice is both soft and gentle. “I called home just now but no one answered, so I was a little worried. Did I wake you?”

“Ah... that’s because I... I went back to my own place.”

For some reason, you feel slightly guilty, so you hurriedly divert the conversation.

“Gavin, is the situation going smoothly over there? How many days would you take?”

Officer Gavin refuses to let go of the topic. “Did something happen? Why did you return to your own house?”

You stammer, and every word you manage to squeeze out is tinged with unhappiness. “But you never said that I could stay in your house...”

A voice drifts from the other end of the line - no matter how many years have gone by, it’s as clear as always.

“All right, I was wrong.” He admits his mistake sincerely and directly.

He pauses, seriousness seeping into his voice. “Is my Princess willing to give me a chance, and move in with me?”

“Of course!” You cheer, leaping out of the bed, the cloudiness that has been weighing on your mind for days dissipating in an instant.

He continues. “Mm... I didn’t mention it because I thought you understood why there are so many ginkgo trees in the yard, why there’s a grand piano in the bedroom, and why there are so many photo frames in the house containing the pictures we took together. This is a house for the both of us - it’s always been from the start. Go home. Mm, be good. Where else do you want to run off to?”

His voice is flooded with unconcealed affection. With every sentence, and every promise, your heart grows warm, and you feel yourself tearing up. 

As the master of ruining the mood, you suddenly ask, “What about my dressing table?”

“What?” 

When he finally reacts to what you just said, you hear a soft chuckle. “I’m not good at buying furniture. But you could pick one you like. I’ll be back in a few days. When I’ve returned... I’ll build it for you.”

-

[ 3 ]

You’re lazing on the sofa, mindlessly flipping through a comic called “Love and Producer”, while your other hand is gripping a cup of milk tea. Bringing the straw to your lips, you give it a suck.

Your gaze is on Gavin, whose back is facing you. Wearing an I-shaped vest, he's currently installing a dressing table on a rug. Following the instruction manual, he screws the pieces together, his muscles appearing distinctively. Even the scars on his back exude sexiness.

Feeling mischievous, you remove your bunny slippers, stepping onto the rug. 

A pair of delicate hands snake around Gavin’s waist, burrowing into his vest.

“Don’t... do that.” His voice is a little hoarse.

You lean in, noticing the evident beads of sweat on his forehead. Pressing yourself even closer to him, you deliberately ask, “Gavin, why are you so hot? Let me wipe you dry~”

With one hand wrapped around his waist, your other hand slowly inches downwards. Gavin finally gives in, pausing his installation work. He whips his head around, coarse hands stopping your misbehaving ones from roaming further and igniting flames on his skin.

Now that he’s facing you, you can see the deep, unconcealed desire in his gaze. Forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with him, you say with false bravado, “I’m helping you wipe the sweat off. Why are you being so fierce! I’m going to watch the television. Fix it quickly.”

“All right,” he chuckles.

Planting a quick kiss on his collarbone scar, you get to your feet and rush to the sofa. Only then do you heave a sigh of relief while patting your chest, as though you’re a little bunny which barely escaped from a fright.

At the sight of your adorable antics, Gavin smiles. In his eyes, what’s reflected is genuine tenderness, as well as the resplendence in his world.

During his years as a student, he had kept a secret deep in his heart. It was one he never shared with anyone, and it was one he never dared to anticipate. 

Although he had pictured hundreds and thousands of futures, he never expected that his present reality would be even more complete and perfect than imagined.

All the unfairness, coldness and pain he persevered through were healed the moment he met you.

Ever since, he has never again blamed fate, since it led him to you.

-

More translated works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

你想笑死我继承我的公主裙: Can~ Thank you for liking it

[popunktomlinson]

this is everything i’ve read in the past month put into a list for the sole benefit of my short term memory. it’s a mess of pairings but mostly drarry and can be summed up as lots of enemies to lovers, excessive pining, and a splash of fake dating.

Drarry:

What Real Thing? - loveglowsinthedark (13k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Aural Gratification - birdsofshore (11k)

Harry's not gay – he just likes listening to exciting stories about Aurors. It's not his fault that the narrator's voice is so smooth, so expressive... and really rather hot.

You open always (petal by petal) - birdsofshore (65k)

Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is.

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[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 17 - Happy

Summary: You take George on a date where he tells you stories about his family and the first time he realized he loved you

Warnings: None, Fluff

Word count: 4.2K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

You were just writing the last words on your Transfiguration essay when Hermione who was sitting opposite you in an armchair by the fire exclaimed in an angry voice.

“I can’t believe they still doing this!”

You and Ron followed her gaze. She was staring at Fred, George and Lee, who were surrounded by a group of first-years, giving them candies for testing. You raised and eyebrow but didn’t say anything; you turned back to your homework, hoping you could finish it before Hermione erupts again.

“I told them yesterday I write to their mum if they don’t stop,” she said snarkily. Your eyes met Ron’s and both of you turned away very quickly. “You think it is all right, what they’re doing?”

You needed a second to realize that she was talking to you. You raised your head again towards the boys, then shrugged.

“They’re not doing anything illegal, Hermione,” you said casually. “I’ve checked the school rules.”

“What they’re doing is dangerous. And those are just kids!”

“It’s not dangerous,” you sat flatly. “They’ve tested everything on themselves, so have I. I know for a fact that Lee ate at least twelve of those candies since the week we’ve been here, and he appears to be just fine.”

“I still don’t like it,” she said. “It can cause serious harm.”

“No, it can’t.”

“At least you should be more responsible!”

“Hermione, you know about the sort-of-illegal business I’m running here, right?”

“I have a few words about that, too.”

“Great, hold that thought for a second, I’m trying to finish here.”

You leaned over your essay again, and Ron gave out a snorting laugh. He quickly stopped when Hermione looked at him.

“Will you tell them to stop, then?” she returned to you.

“I’m not their guardian, Hermione. Let them make some money, please.”

You folded your finished essay and looked towards the boys again. George apparently was eavesdropping because when you met his eyes across the room, he winked.

September’s first week was about to end and you already felt exhausted. You’ve written a bunch of essays to five different teacher, and that Umbridge woman was giving you pointless homeworks as well; copying pages out of her beloved book. You had a feeling that if this was what she called teaching, you won’t be quite satisfied this year.

As Saturday arrived, you felt like sleeping in, but you knew you had loads of things to attend to. You dressed quickly and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As you sat at the table, your eyes stuck on Ron’s sickly looking face.

“Are you all right, Ron?”

He just nodded. Ginny answered for him.

“He has his first training today as official Keeper.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” you said as George sat down next to you and Fred opposite you. “Well, good luck, Ron!”

He nodded in silence. George kissed you quickly on the cheek and reached for a toast.

“Good morning. Are you coming to watch the training session?” he asked, looking for the marmalade jar.

“Sorry, I can’t,” you said, handing it over to him. “I need to do a few things today.”

“On Saturday?” asked Fred in disbelief. “I cannot imagine the pain.”

When you finished eating, you joined the twins to walk with them till the quidditch pitch. Fred went ahead to the changing rooms but George stayed behind.

“You sure you can’t stay?” he reached for your hand. You smiled at him.

“Sorry. Really. I try to finish early.”

He made a sad pouty face.

“Fine. I show off some other time then.”

You giggled.

“That’s the spirit,” you saw Ron and Harry coming to the dressing room as well. You raised an eyebrow at George. “Be nice, okay?”

“I will, I will.”

He turned back to you with a small smile. You nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

“All right. I gotta go. Have fun!”

You waved and left him behind. You needed to hurry if you wanted to do everything you have planned.

——

After finishing the training and taking a shower, George was looking for you everywhere in the common room but you didn’t seem to show up. He joined Fred and Lee feeling rather disappointed; he hoped returning to school would let you spend more time together, since during the summer you had to sneak around for every private minute.

When the common room started to get empty he stood up, too, joining the crowd heading to have dinner, however, he was only walking on the marble stairs leading to the Entrance Hall when you appeared next to him, grinning.

“Hey there.”

“Hey! Where were you all day?”

“Oh, I needed to get ready,” you said, with a suspicious smile on your lips.

“Ready for what?”

“I’m going on a date.”

George’s heart gave a panicked throb and he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the stairs. A third-year boy walked right into him but he didn’t care.

“You — What?”

“Yeah, on a date,” you said shrugging. George felt his brain shutting down.

“With — Who?”

Your grin widened.

“My boyfriend.”

“Your…”

He was mumbling. He looked in your cheeky eyes. Why were you not concerned?! Why were you… you…

“For Merlin’s sake!” he exclaimed and you started to laugh. “Don’t ever do this to me again! You naughty little prat!”

You laughed and you hugged him. He felt his heart calming down.

“So what are you planning?”

“Come, you’ll see.”

You took his hand and lead him out in the park, leaving the crowd behind. George was gazing at your face in disbelief as he was still recovering from the extreme shock. You two passed the greenhouses and George realized that you were heading towards the quidditch pitch.

“I really made an effort, you see,” you said, while climbing the stairs to the rows where audiences sat during the matches. “Ta-da!”

George looked around and saw at once the packages prepared on the highest benches;  numerous kinds of sandwiches, butterbeer bottles by the dozen, his favorite Honeydukes candies, games from Zonko’s and Dr Filibuster's Fireworks lay around on a huge blanket.

“I felt like we couldn’t really hang out lately,” you said. “And you did this for me once so I guess I’m returning the favour.”

George felt that warm feeling in his chest, the one he only feels when he’s with you. He took your hand and sat comfortably onto the blanket next to you.

“Where did you get the butterbeers, though?” he asked.

“Why?”

“It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend.”

“Oh, I went through the tunnel,” you said, raising an eyebrow in doubt and opening a bottle. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about the tunnel.”

“Of course, I do, but I thought… You know what, I’m not even surprised. Cheers.”

He beamed and drank from his bottle, not taking his eyes off you. He was blown away.

“So how was quidditch practice today?” you asked, not realizing that he was gazing at you. George shook his head a little, forcing himself to create a sentence that actually makes sense.

“Oh, it was rubbish,” he said. “Ron accidentally threw the quaffle at Katie, and she had a nosebleed.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. Fred gave her the wrong candy — that just made it worse. She had to go to the hospital wing.”

“But is she all right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine now,” he said reassuringly. “But training was still dreadful with Slytherin lurking around.”

Your face darkened.

“I’m guessing they were really interested in Ron’s capabilities.”

“Something like that,” George drank again. Even though his brother was a bit slow-paced sometimes, he wished the worst for everyone other than Fred and himself who dared to say a bad word about Ron.

“How was he?” you asked, concerned. “He almost fainted when I saw him this morning.”

George chuckled.

“You want the kind answer or the honest answer?”

You grimaced.

“The honest answer, kindly.”

“He’s… not the best. Not the worst, either. Harry says he’s got it, he’s just nervous.”

You nodded silently. George was smiling to himself.

“You never saw me flying, you know that?”

You snorted, chuckling.

“That’s not true. I saw you on matches loads of times.”

“Not like that,” George shook his head, beaming. “You know, since we are — cohabitants.”

“Cohabitants?!” you burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible!”

“Sorry, I meant since we have been dallying with each other.”

He was grinning like crazy at the sound of your laugh. You were incredibly loud and he loved it.

“Okay, just stop,” you said, still giggling. “So, since we’ve been living in sin, you mean…?”

George laughed and choked on his butterbeer. He felt like he was going to have a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” you giggled. He nodded, then made a ‘hic’ sound and he started hiccoughing. You laughed again.

“Hey!” he said, trying his best to hold back the laughs and the chuckles. “Don’t laugh at —‘hic’.”

You were leaning back in laughter. He shook his head — ‘hic’ — and tried to come off it by holding his breath but — ‘hic’ — it wasn’t working. Every time you seemed to calm down, he chuckled again, making you laugh even more. If it meant seeing you like this, he was up for hiccoughing for the rest of his life.

“All right, all right,” you said after a long fit of giggles. “Try taking small sips and raise one arm above your head. That should do.”

“Is this like a muggle — ‘hic’ — solution?” he asked while waving around like a windmill.

“You don’t know this one?” you giggled watching him. “I’m starting to realise we have a lot of different life hacks.”

“Yeah?” he said then swallowed the rest of his butterbeer. The hiccoughs stopped. “Ah, that’s better.”

He reached for a few Filibuster's Fireworks and lit them with his wand. He threw them into the air, watching as they were flying all around five feet above your heads. You followed them with your eyes as well; in the setting sun your hair looked the same texture as honey. George smiled to himself. He suddenly wanted to share every thought that had ever crossed his mind with you.

“When we were children we believed that if you don’t fly your brooms regularly, they get bored and break out of the shed in the middle of the night. Attack you in your sleep.”

Your eyes widened as you giggled.

“What?”

“Yeah,” George nodded, beaming. “So Fred and I waited until everyone was asleep and snuck out to play quidditch in the dark.”

“I bet your parents loved it.”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled at the memory. “Dad had to sleep in our room for two weeks to make sure we stayed inside.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” he smirked.

“What?!”

He laughed.

“No — no, about four or five, I reckon. We were quite a handful.”

“You are quite a handful,” you said, shaking your head, smiling. “Tell me more.”

You were looking at him in such a tender way he could not help but smile. His heart was beating really fast again. He took your hand into his and continued.

“Let’s see… Did I tell you how I got my middle name?”

“No.”

“You know it’s Fabian, right? And Fred’s Gideon. They were brothers of mum. They both died in the war. I reckon she wanted to commemorate them somehow.”

You were looking at him with warmth in your eyes.

“That’s a really nice gesture of her.”

A sweet, sorrowful expression appeared on your face. George leaned closer, examining you.

“Did I make you sad?”

You shot a small smile at him.

“A little. But it’s okay. These are important things. We should not forget about telling them.”

George couldn’t help himself. He leaned and pressed a tender kiss on your cheek, then he just let himself get lost in your presence, taking you all in, with a smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

He felt so different when he was with you. So honest. So free. He knew he could tell you anything. Even the not-so-nice stuff. Even the sorrowful things. He knew you’d understand, just like you understood why he had told you this. He saw it in your eyes. He saw kindness and caring. And it made him feel a bit better. He had always thought his middle name carried a gloomy meaning. With you, it didn’t seem so gloomy anymore.

Merlin, he loved you so much.

“Tell me more,” you said, with that eager expression on your face. Like you’d give anything to hear him gabble his tatty stories.

“All right… Let’s see… Oh, here’s one. When we were little, Fred and I always pretended to be each other. Drove mum crazy, that one, ‘specially when we did something we were not supposed to.”

You chortled.

“And you left that habit behind, have you?”

“Er — sure,” he said, not very convincingly. Then he cackled. “Once we tried to confuse Snape, in first year. He ended up taking a hundred points from Gryffindor. Mm… Those were the days, I’m telling you.”

Your giggles returned and his heart was beating fast again.

“What are you on about?” you said. “You’re not even that identical.”

“Yes, we are!” he said in mock offense. “Loads can’t even tell half the time.”

“Come off it, it’s not that hard!”

“Why, how do you know you’re not sitting here with Fred right now?” he asked. “I might have been fooling you for a whole week.”

You snorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can tell the two of you apart in an instant.”

“I’m sure sometimes you can’t, though,” he said teasingly. You furrowed your brows.

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, stop,” you said, scowling. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m just joking.”

“I know, but it’s important to me. You knowing… that I know. I want you to know… I always… I’m always certain.”

Your puzzled speech made him take your hand again. As he spoke, he was smiling mischievously, but he meant every word.

“I know you can tell us apart, love,” he smirked. “I know it since the Yule Ball.”

You turned to him in surprise.

“Really?”

“Mm…” he trailed off for a moment, reminiscing about that night, then continued. “Remember, you didn’t tell me who did you think I was. And we danced later and I wished you’d knew for real, but I wasn’t sure… And then you said ‘Good night, George’ and it was a really big deal for me.”

He hesitated. He felt himself blushing but he also wanted to tell you… He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly.

“I think that was it for me. When you said my name… I just somehow… knew.”

“Knew what?”

He didn’t answer, but looked at you with a you-know-what-I-mean face. You seemed to be blushing a bit, too. He found you beautiful.

“That’s…” you started. “Blimey.”

He chuckled.

“Sappy?”

You giggled as you leaned closer to him. You kissed him on the cheek, just as he had done a few minutes ago to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Yes, it is, but it’s okay. But, yeah, a bit sappy.”

“All right, then, tell me yours if you’re so witty,” he said playfully.

“Mine?” you said, thinking. You smiled to yourself. “I think when we went to Hogsmeade for the first time. And I refilled the butterbeer bottles with magic, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And you said, you said this: ‘You really are something.’ And I was blown away, because I knew I wasn’t doing something nice, but… You seemed to understand. And I just… It felt so… right with you.”

You were captivating as you were sitting there, showering in the last orange beams of the sunset. George was not fond of showing off, let others see what you two have… He had always believed it to be a private thing. But as he saw the last people wandering around the quidditch pitch, way below where you were sitting, he almost felt like putting everything aside and just press kisses all over you right here, right now.

His rumbling stomach reminded him that you two skipped dinner, indeed. He looked down at the sandwiches you had brought and his chest felt warm again.

“Are these for us?”

“What do you think, ginger boy?” you handed him one from the pile. “Here, take it.”

He took a bite and his stomach immediately felt better. He wondered if he’d feel the same if anyone else but you’d had made the sandwiches.

“What’s yours?” he said, mumbling through the ham and tomato.

“Cheese. You wanna try it?”

“Yeah.”

You switched.

Above your heads the Filibuster’s Fireworks were throwing their last sparks around before their remainings fell at your feet. The quidditch pitch and the park was empty now, as curfew was coming. George’s mood sank a bit as he saw Hagrid’s empty hut in the distance; he just hoped that he’s all right, whatever mission Dumbledore had sent him on. Sitting here with you, eating sandwiches and drinking butterbeer made it hard to believe that somewhere out there the greatest dark wizard was planning to destroy their peaceful world. He wished he could stay in this moment with you forever.

“You wanna play a round of Exploding Snap before heading back?” he asked you.

“Sure!”

You opened a pack of Fizzing Whizbees while he shuffled the cards. You put a piece of candy in his mouth as well and he pressed a kiss on your fingers as a thank you.

By the time you finished playing it was already dark, only the moon was shining on the sky. George knew you felt the same — trying to stretch out this perfect day, before returning to reality. But soon you could do nothing about it. It was time to pack your stuff and head back to the castle.

“Are you cold?” George glanced at you as you shivered.

“A bit. I’m more creeped out by the forest. Look.”

You pointed at the treeline by the Forbidden Forest. George grinned.

“Ron said there are enormous Acromantulas there,” he said teasingly. He knew you hated spiders. “Bigger than a car, even.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” you shivered again. He laughed and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Wouldn’t it be nice, tough? A nice tour in the —”

“George!” you scolded him and ran a few feet ahead. “I leave you behind if you don’t behave!”

“I’d like to see you try,” he said, running after you. You shrieked as he almost caught you at the bottom of the stairs and giggled loudly when he embraced you in a tight hug in the Entrance Hall.

“George! Let me go!”

“I don’t think so, love,” he said, peppering you with kisses from behind.

“Let me go, I feel sick!”

George let go in panic at once. He reached for your face in concern.

“I’m so sorry, are you all right? Did I do something?”

“Hah!” you blew raspberries at his face and started laughing again as you ran up the marble staircase. George scowled in mock outrage.

“You’re making fun of my good heart, Y/N!” he shouted as he was running after you.

The two of you were chasing each other all the way on the corridors. You stopped in the middle of a hallway, waiting for him, playing with him, daring him to chase you again. You seemed to be trapped between a statue and the window; behind you the stairs had just moved away.

“Having some trouble?” George asked, smirking. His voice was echoing in the empty hallway.

“Oh, you wish!” you giggled and decided to jump to your left, at an arriving staircase. George followed and caught you for the second time, holding you close from behind.

“Don’t even dream about going free this time,” he murmured in your ears and he felt you shivering again.

“You overestimate yourself, Weasley,” you chuckled.

Somewhere in the distance a door was shut, but it was too far away for George to care. He only cared about you as you turned around in his arms, standing in the middle of the moving staircase. You casually put your arms around his neck. He loved when you did that.

“I wanna ask you something,” he said suddenly. You nodded.

“Ask.”

“It’s a serious question.”

“Okay, ask,” you smiled at him with anticipation.

George had no idea where this was coming from. He just wanted to know. He just wanted to be sure. He’s a declared sappy git already… so it didn’t really make a difference.

“Are you happy?”

He saw that the question took you by surprise. Somewhere above he could hear footsteps.

You nodded, smiling.

“Of course.”

He shook his head.

“No, witty… I mean seriously. Are you happy?”

You were looking deeply in his eyes. George knew you understood. He just hoped you say yes. Yes to being happy with him… just as happy he was with you.

Your smile faded a little as you were thinking… evaluating… George’s heart was beating nervously. You looked to his side, reminiscing about something that he couldn’t see, something only you could see, only you could remember… then you looked back at him, a piercing look in your eyes, and you said calmly with a returning smile:

“Yes. I am happy.”

George let out a deep sigh and grinned. His chest felt really, really hot. When you reached for his face, the touch of your fingertips left him feel dizzy.

“Are you happy?” you whispered. George didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes, I am.”

“I am serious, too.”

“I am very happy,” he leaned closer to kiss you but you turned away.

“Don’t, I have a boyfriend!”

“Oh, all right then,” he let go of you and stood tall, making it impossible for you to reach him. “Is this all right?”

“Now, that I think about it…” you said with a cheeky grin. But he purposely stood even taller on his toes. He loved playing with you like this. His smile widened when you gently pulled his tie towards you.

“Now, now, what will your boyfriend say?”

“He can handle it.” George gave in and closed his eyes in pleasure as your lips touched his. He grabbed your robes and pulled you closer to him, taking in your wonderfull vanilla shampoo and tasting butterbeer on your tongue…

“Hem hem.”

George sprung aroung, hiding you behind his back in an instant. He knew this voice, this disturbing little sound, he knew whom it belonged to. He was right. On the top of the staircase was Professor Umbridge, staring at the two of you with a wide smile.

“Mr Weasley,” she said in a girlish voice. “Miss Y/L/N. Are you aware of how late it is?”

“No,” said George at once. Umbridge shook her head.

“When I ask you something Mr Weasley I expect you to answer with ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge’. Let’s try again. Are you aware of how late it is?”

“No… Professor Umbridge.”

“Come up here, please.”

She indicated next to her, and she herself stepped off the staircase, too. George looked at you and rolled his eyes; you smirked and took his hand. He knew detention was coming, he didn’t really care; he was rather annoyed that he has to spend his valuable time cleaning statues or writing some lines.

You walked up the staircase and stopped in front of Umbridge. George wondered wether she was twice as short as him. She shot an interested glance at his hand holding yours, but she did not comment on it.

“Now, I must inform you that breaking the school rules comes with consequences. Leaving your dormitories at night, way past curfew is one of the many things that are forbidden in this institution. I am expecting you on Monday at five o’clock in my office. Detention, it is.”

“For going on a walk?” you said irritatedly. Umbridge glanced at you holding hands again before she answered.

“Punishable behaviour should be punished, dear. Was I clear enough?”

“Yes…” you muttered. She raised an eyebrow. “Professor Umbridge.”

“Wonderful. Let’s hope we can break off these silly… habits,” she took one last glance at your hands. “To your dormitories, now. Off you go, please.”

You didn’t speak until you reached the Fat Lady, but when you stepped into the common room, both of you snorted with laughter.

“Punishable behaviour should be punished,” George said in a high pitched voice. “Honestly.”

“I hate that woman so much,” you said, rolling your eyes and giggling. “Detention! Seriously?! Like I had nothing better to do than writing some lines for her or something.”

“Exactly,” George said, pulling you closer to him again. “Come here, you.”

He pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose. You giggled. You were very giggly tonight.

“I had fun, you know,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” you nodded before letting out a huge yawn.

“Maybe you should turn in.”

“Yeah, probably,” you said, rubbing your eyes. You curtseyed playfully. “Goodnight, Mr Weasley.”

George seriously considered saying ‘Goodnight, Mrs Weasley’ to you, but he decided he’d rather not freak you out. So he just said his usual ‘Sweet dreams’ and only turned away when you waved him goodbye and disappeared behind your dormitory door.

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 30

We spent the night at Bucky’s - not because he had so much to pack, or because it was cozy and we wanted to leave it with a good memory, but honestly because the idea of redressing after we undressed for the second time was repugnant to both of us.  

“I do have a bed,” he teased, hovering over me where I was prone on his living room floor, but I shook my head and arched into him ending whatever push he was making for a move to another room, but getting him to roll onto his back and giving me full reign of our lovemaking.  

Nipping his lip and getting him to laugh, I couldn’t help but take a minute to just appreciate how fucking gorgeous he was looked - the blue light flickering from the television highlighting all the best parts of him - which were all of him, to be honest.

“Come here,” I pulled on his shoulders, knowing that if he didn’t want to rise up with me I wouldn’t be able to make him, but he did, sitting up - chest to chest with me, my arms wrapping around his neck I stared into his eyes.  “You are -” I wasn’t sure how to articulate it, to say just what he was to me.  “I love you and it doesn’t seem like it’s -” but he didn’t let me try to finish, his mouth meeting mine as his fingertips danced down my spine.  “I thought it was my turn to be in charge,” I murmured when his lips left mine, ghosting along my jaw to nip at my pulse.  

“You weren’t really doing much with the power, Brooke,” he teased, his tongue tasting the hint of sweat we’d managed to work up since we’d arrived.  

“Are you daring me, James?” I moved just enough to get a sharp inhaled breath - loud enough for me to hear for once, “well?” 

Bucky’s teeth met my pulse and I swallowed just as loudly as he’d inhaled.  He didn’t bite, he only let me feel them against my skin and I knew that he felt how that tiny pressure affected me all the way down to where we were joined.  “Maybe,” his breath against my skin, those two syllables had me rock my hips once - earning a hiss from his lips.  

My fingers slid through his hair and met at the base of his neck, tugging to get his gaze to meet mine again.  “Come here,” I urged, and then our lips met again, but this time I rode him as our teeth and tongues dueled, and if I had been loud at the hotel in Louisiana, I made damn sure that I had company in the noise pollution here in New York.  

He carried me to his bed, refusing to sleep on the floor after our exercise.  Laying me down carefully on a blanket that felt brand new, he traced over my skin as if he was taking inventory.  Just as I was getting ready to ask if he was planning on joining me, his fingertips stopped their journey, and I looked up to see him staring at where they’d landed.  

“What is it?”  I considered raising up on my elbows, but I was comfortable, even without being under the blanket or cradled in his arms.  

“I bruised you,” he was worrying his lower lip with those brilliant white teeth of his and I almost teased him about how I was pretty sure he also left a bite mark or two on me, but his eyes were narrowed with concern so I knew now was not the time to mock his upset.  

I let my own hand drift down to meet his, touching his fingers that were still laying gently against my skin.  “Hey,” his eyes met mine and I smiled.  “I’m pretty sure that you’re wearing a few marks from me, too.”  I knew he was, not only the bite from the plane, but scratches and who knew what other marks I’d managed to make on his skin - he’d called me a hellcat and I felt certain I’d earned it.  

Bucky sighed and started to pull away, but I was having NONE of that.  My hand touched his, then I worked to hold on, getting our fingers linked in spite of his less than best efforts.  “You really think that you could hurt me?”  I shook my head and he sighed, letting me pull him down onto the bed beside me.  “Physically?”  His eyebrow was arched in a wondrous display of complete disbelief in my ability to cause him harm.  

I shook my head at him.  “No, I don’t think I can hurt you, Buck.”  I sighed, and waited while he situated the pillows to his liking that way I could use him for MY pillow.  Once he managed the feat, I pressed my cheek against his chest, next to his dog tags, where I could hear his heart pound soothingly.  “I think that you need to understand that I’m not going to break because we got frisky,” he sighed again, but his fingers were back on my skin, sliding gently over the bareness, drawing designs again, brushing my loose hair out of his way.  “Are you listening to me?”  He hummed and I went on, snuggling into his chest.  “A bruise here or there, a scratch or two or three?  A bite or a mark?  None of that matters, Bucky.  It doesn’t because it wasn’t done in anger.”  

Another sigh, with less force, but I knew that he was listening to me, so I waited for him to counter my argument.  “I - I don’t want to hurt YOU,” his chin was on the top of my head, the heat of his breath was hot against my scalp.  “My strength, I could so easily -”

“Hey,” I moved so my chin was propped up on his sternum, with his head on the pillows it was an awkward angle, but we made it work so we could look at one another.  “You didn’t.  I’m fine.  Complete working order here, Bucky Barnes.”  I smiled up at him, before I moved my face back down to face against his chest, kissing his skin.  “I only LET you carry me in here like Tarzan because you seem to like manhandling me.”  

That got a laugh, which was the point.  Bucky getting tense over something as slight as a little discoloration after we had sexy fun times, which I planned on us having much more of I might add, wasn’t something I wanted to become routine.  I knew he had baggage, who wouldn’t be given his past, but I fully intended to make sure that he knew that I loved him and he wasn’t broken or ruined.  Together we were two slightly fucked up people, but I thought that together we might be able to figure things out and make our combined shit more manageable.  

I left the next morning, after I had leftover Chinese - since Bucky had been out of town for long enough to make me doubt most of what was left in his fridge.  He had to check in with his therapist - a reminder from me for that gold star so I could celebrate with him at the house later - and then he was coming back to his place to pack up to move in with me.

“Do you need help?”  I would stay, I could stay, but he shook his head as his grin took my breath away.  

“The only things that are really mine are my clothes and books,” he promised, and I smiled up at him as he put my bags into the Uber that had arrived to take me back to my - OUR - house.  “I’ll call you when I’m on my way,” he held the door for me as I got into the car and then leaned into kiss me goodbye.  “No more pineapples,” he vowed and I nodded. 

“Gold star, mister,” I reminded him and he shook his head with a huge smile.  “I love you,” I mouthed as the driver pulled away, and my heart stuttered as I watched him mouth the words right back.  

I needed the time it was going to take him to check in with Raynor and pack up his humble belongings to get my own welcome home surprise together.  I texted Connie during the drive from his apartment and was laughing as she texted me back almost immediately.  

“Oh NOW you have time for me”  the addition of a few choice emojis reminded me of my failure as a best friend, but then she sent another text.  “How long are you alone before he’s back within sniffing range?”  

I sent her my best estimate and she calmed my ratcheting nerves by reminding me that she had half days and she’d be over to help me set the scene for Bucky’s return.  When the driver let me out, shucking my bags onto the porch, I took a deep breath and hoped like fuck that I wasn’t about to set off some trigger in Bucky’s PTSD reserves with my little surprise.  That would suck balls, and it would ruin our first night as cohabitants in the house.  

Looking around the living room once I got my bags inside, it sobered me when I realized that technically the wrong trigger with Bucky could actually fucking demolish the house.  Oh well, I thought, putting as much forced positivity into the thought as I could - too late to back out now. 

[keijikunn]

All Of Your Soul

Part of the @babythotshq mini collab!! You can check the other parts here!

Pairing: demon!Tsukishima Kei x gender neutral!reader Genre: angst, crack if you squint for like 2 seconds  Summary: Your superstitious grandmother always told you not to get involved with demons, but how could you not when Tsukishima Kei, the one you’ve summoned, was so alluring? Word count: ~3.4k

Author’s note: Happy Halloween!! I hope you enjoy this piece, and a massive shoutout to @hidden-otaku-stuff  @kaitycole  and of course @babythotshq who helped me out during the process of writing this fic! Love you all mwah mwah 💞

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, minor and major character death, yandere!tsukki, mentions of violence, mention of sex, swearing

Ever since you were a kid, your grandmother warned you about the evil creatures that cohabited the world you lived in. She was often called crazy because of it - after all, she was an old lady talking non-stop about demons. However, that topic amazed you rather than giving you chills down your spine. Your curiosity grew progressively as she told you the same thing over and over: “Don’t mess up with them, or else they’ll take your soul away”.

You always thought grandma told you those stories just to scare you off, to make sure you would stay in line. But the way you’d laugh it off at the age of 7 almost like daring the threat hinted your disbelief. 

"The entire hell can come get me, they won't be able to touch me!" you once told your grandmother, which earned you a scoff and a flick on your forehead. 

"Oh, Y/N" she cooed, almost in pity, patting your head. "You will regret it when you're older," 

And once again, you laughed at her. 

It became part of your childhood, long forgotten as the years passed by and the concept of believing in demons appeared to be silly. Your memory permanently buried it in the depths of your mind after your dear grandmother passed away, leaving this world with her tales from underworld creatures.

A long time since she passed,, you remembered the spooky way the old woman would tell you different myths when you were packing your belongings to leave for college. The old box stuffed inside the attic filled with dusty and thick books lit a lamp in your head, concluding your grandma used to tell you those stories. 

Not only did she have short terrifying ones, your grandma seemed to be way more superstitious than just believing in simple tales. Some of them had different symbols, with many side notes written - assumably - by your late relative. The barely readable handwritten overlapped one another, all information mixing into a big mess that you could hardly understand. 

“Granny was really into it, huh?” 

It wouldn’t hurt reading them - after all, it would be for the sake of your childhood. 

And just like you found yourself drawing strange patterns inside a circle on the floor of your bedroom with chalk, it hardly appeared but you didn’t mind. It’s just some made up stories, you thought, proceeding to let an airy laugh just thinking about your grandmother tossing and turning in her coffin. Your disbelief in these surely came from your young age. After that, all you needed to do was a single drop of your blood and say some weird phrases. 

“If it doesn’t work, it’s because of these freaking sentences,” you muttered, pricking your finger with a needle. As the red liquid fell on the center of the circle you drew, the difficult words slipped out of your lips.

A few minutes passed by after you finished the ritual and the bedroom was engulfed in silence. How you wished you could talk to your grandmother right now, just to rub it in her face that she was wrong - even though you had a mess to clean. Tossing the old book aside, you laughed at the situation you had put yourself in and undid a part of the draw. 

“You know, ever since you were a kid your sassy attitude got me on my nerves,” a second voice echoed, a male one. 

You have never turned your head so quickly in your life, looking for the person who just spoke to you. A tall, blonde guy stood on the other side of the circle; the black dress shirt had the first three buttons undone matching with the black slacks. He was handsome, and you wondered if it was your mind’s work to show you one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen (and imagined) in your life. “It’s rude to stare”

“I must be crazy,” you laughed, rubbing your eyes, when you opened them again, he was still there, with an annoyed look on his features. “Granny must be pranking me, there’s no fucking way I summoned-”

“A demon, actually you just did, haven’t you read the book, dumbass?” he hissed, rolling his eyes. The blonde man crouched to look at the poorly drawn summoning circle and scoffed. “I wonder how you managed to summon me, this shit is terrible, not to mention your Latin”

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s fucking hard to draw it, let alone speaking goddamn Latin!” This guy, this demon was pissing you out, and he had only been in your room for less than five minutes. “Okay, I guess you’re real, my grandma was right, go to hell”

“A lot of people have already told me this joke, and I have to remind every single human that it sucks,” he snapped angrily, before sighing in defeat and looking at you. “What do you want from me?”

“Me, nothing,” you chimed sarcastically. “I was serious when I told you to go to hell, demon.”

“Can you please not call me demon?!”

“So how should I call you? Rex?”

“Jesus, you’re so annoying-”

“I thought demons couldn’t say Jesus’ name, Rex”

“For fucks sake, it’s Tsukishima!” he said louder than he wanted, his voice vibrated inside your body sending chills down your spine. “You’re the worst human that has ever summoned me, and it was just for fun!” 

“Then stop complaining and return to hell, it’s not that hard!” you shot back, just as annoyed as him. A part of yourself, the superstitious one, the same one that had believed for a short while in your grandma, was screaming at yourself for picking up a fight with a demon, but your prideful one wouldn’t let that go easily. 

“I can’t just do it when you fucking used your blood while summoning me!” Tsukishima exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know how to read? It clearly says that blood rituals are strong, they tie your soul to me.”

“You’re telling me you, a demon, can't undo this shit?” you asked, at the sight of the male shaking his head sideways you groan frustrated. "What kind of shitty demons are you?"

"A demon that is way smarter than you, idiot." he mocked angrily.

"What am I going to do with such a pain in the ass?" The question didn't look for a proper answer from him, but either way he grunted in protest. "If I pray to whatever god, will you be repelled?"

"You're really the dumbest human I’ve ever met," Tsukishima stated as he rolled his eyes. "Of course not, what do you think I am? An ordinary demon from a shitty movie?"

"Well-"

"You know what? Don't answer it," he cut you, shaking his hand as if the gesture would shut you off. "Clean this mess, it's giving me chills seeing such a bad job." 

"Use your demon powers to clean it all!"

"I'm not a fucking fairy!"

Tsukishima was just a single demon, but his presence seemed to bring the whole hell to you. His witty and unnecessary comments easily threw you off the edge, and as if he noticed, which he probably did, the man made sure to say at least one provoking statement every single time he opened his mouth.

It wasn’t easy to get used with his presence, especially when Tsukishima made sure to remind you every minute you were awake that “it’s your fault”. 

Yet, the demon did not tell you how to break whatever bond you established with him. You came to the conclusion that his duty whenever he was summoned was to annoy people out. What a useless demon, you thought once, just to hear him screaming profanities and insults inside your head.

You have never imagined that this situation would drag for so long. Tsukishima was there on your first day at college, and he made sure to make you embarrass yourself in front of your class. He was also there to ruin your first date with a cute guy from one of your periods, Inuoka ended the night a bit paranoid about someone following him around.

“I think you told me you weren’t a fairy to do this kind of thing, Tsukki” you commented sarcastically, feeling the anger bubble inside your chest. 

“You heard it right, Y/N,” he answered, throwing himself at your not-so-comfortable sofa, stretching his legs over the coffee table in front of it. “That guy looked like a little boy scared of his own shadow!”

“Why did you do it?!” The question came out more desperate than you wanted it to be. Inuoka wasn’t the first man Tsukishima pulled a stunt on, and by the way your personal demon (as you address him) acts it’s not going to be the last. “He was so nice, he didn’t deserve this childish attitude of yours!”

“Well, he doesn’t have part of your soul like I do,” Tsukishima muttered quietly, but his eyes spoke volumes about his feelings. The possessiveness shone in his golden-brown orbs, a hint of jealous maybe, and you wondered once again if he had feelings like you.

“Tsukishima…” 

All words left your brain as the tall man walked over you, holding your face with his hand. He ran his thumb over your lips and squeezed your cheeks with his grip, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “What are you-”

“You’re mine.” He spoke firmly, not giving a chance to say anything back. “I have a part of me in you and part of your soul is mine. You are mine”

Without a warning, Tsukishima leaned down to smash his lips against yours. His movements were harsh, but it didn’t take too long for you to give in into the heated kiss. Your head was empty, and all you could feel was his mouth on yours and a slender hand travelling inside your shirt. The lack of air in your system made you pull away from the contact, locking eyes with him with a clear question mark above your head. 

“What the hell was that, Tsukki?” The anger vanished, leaving behind confusion and a bit of… desire inside of you. 

“I’m just showing you who you belong to.” 

At that moment you couldn’t see all the red flags on that simple statement. The frustration of many failed dates piled up on your nerves to the point that you were not able to see the meaning behind those words. The mere thought of a man desiring you probably the same way as you did blinded you, and that made you snake your hands around Tsukishima’s neck and bring him down to another feverish kiss.

The rest of the night passed by like a blur, Tsukishima’s touch was hot on your skin - and you enjoyed it. The sane part of your brain didn’t have enough room to question your actions: what on Earth were you doing hooking up with a demon? Were you that desperate to be intimate with someone? As quickly as those thoughts invaded your mind, the man towering over you proceeded to take your focus to himself

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but once you woke up, feeling sore as fuck, you noticed Tsukki lying next to you. His eyes were closed, yet you knew for a fact he wasn’t in a deep slumber-  he didn't need sleep. Nevertheless, you took a few moments to appreciate the view, at the same time flashes of your previous activities together came to you just like a fever dream. 

“You don’t have a brain to think too much, dumbass,” he said without even looking at you, a sly smile graced his face nicely and you wondered if he was, at some point in his life, an actual angel. “Do you know who you belong to?”

“I’m not really sure,” you replied shamelessly. Tsukishima’s eyes opened to look straight at yours, arching his eyebrows at your daring tone. “All I remember is a very annoying demon being a bitch about a guy I was interested in”

Messing with Tsukishima became one of your favourite things, because his immediate response was to pin you on the next hard surface and engage in a messy kiss. Being with him was way different than any other relationship you've had, which weren't many since that demon was on your ass ever since you started college. 

Either way, you loved the push and pull between you two. The constant bickering would eventually turn into a heated make out session, and sometimes even more than that. You completely forgot that the man you were in a sort of relationship (if you could call it that way) was a supernatural creature; your mind chose to bury the important information of who Tsukishima really was: a demon.

His actions started to change after over a month or two since you fucked for the first time. Although the snarky and teasing comments were far from coming to an end, you found yourself curled next to him every night. Tsukishima would hold you before you sleep, even if he had to spend a few hours in the same position (which never lasted long, he learned in the hard way that you toss and turn a lot). 

You also changed around him, much to your surprise. You no longer found other men at college attractive; your Friday nights were spent on your couch with Tsukishima next to you, with a random movie on the TV while the two of you kiss. He was your getaway when things got too rough for you, with his hot touches and endless desire. 

Maybe it was the attention Tsukishima gave you, or perhaps that he has been with you for so long, but he managed to win your heart completely. Every time the blonde demon hissed “you’re mine”, how he always satiates your desires and even the awkward moments when he tries to cuddle you. Every little thing this man does pull the strings attached to your heart and mind. 

And you knew Tsukishima noticed your change of demeanor as well, how you got clingier as the months passed by, the soft tone on your voice and the lack of sarcastic responses to his mean comments. You were falling in love with him, and it was the most obvious thing Tsukki has ever witnessed during his whole life dealing with humans.

“I think I love you, Tsukki” you managed to say, your body trembled due to the intense pleasure the man above you just provided. His eyes were unreadable as he looked down at you, but you could dare to say there was a hint of fondness swimming in them. “I never thought it would be possible to fall in love with in all creatures, a demon”

“Yeah?” he caressed your cheek, tracing down to your neckline and pressing on the reddish marks on your skin. “And you were the almighty kid who didn’t believe in demons”

“A pretty annoying demon changed my mind, I have to add” the smile on your face was small, but held so much meaning. However, Tsukishima didn’t mirror your feelings, displaying a rather sadistic one instead. “And you, have you changed your mind about humans?”

“Who knows?” Tsukishima asked rhetorically, letting his body fall next to yours on the bed. "You're the most… interesting human I've met." 

You laughed at his comment, pressing your face against his side in a loving manner. The fact that Tsukishima stood still instead of responding to the display of affection went unnoticed by you; he was being himself, you tried to justify his stiffness. 

Your relationship with him was just like that: you being overly affectionate and Tsukishima… being himself, the hard to approach demon with beautiful looks and with a magnetic aura. You fell easily for him, like getting used to a new daily routine. In a matter of time you found yourself being more vocal about your quick paced heart, the butterflies flying inside your stomach and even the high pitched tone of your voice whenever you couldn't retort one of his comments. 

The man, on the other hand, didn’t follow this demeanor - in fact, Tsukishima started to act the opposite way. He would avoid your touches like the plague, leaving your apartment late at night and returning near the afternoon with purple marks on his neck and collarbones. Something inside you, jealousy, lit up like setting something on fire: wild, uncontrolled and destructive. Once it starts burning, it won’t stop easily. 

“Can’t you stop fucking other people around?!” You screamed at him, not caring if the clock on the wall just hit three in the morning. “Am I not enough for you?”

“Stop making a case out of it, Y/N” Tsukishima rolled his eyes trying to pass through you, only to be blocked by your body. “Jesus, why are you being so jealous?! We have nothing between us”

“I am fucking in love with you, dumbass!” Your high pitched voice was followed by a dead silence. Tsukishima stared at you blankly while you took deep breaths in order to calm yourself, but the adrenaline of your confession didn’t help you stay quiet. “I’ve been head over heels for you for the longest time and you proceeded to hook up with other people every night… Am I that easy for you? I love you with all my heart, a part of my soul is yours- why can’t you do the same?”

All you could hear at first was your erratic breathing pattern, then the room was filled with his laugh. He was laughing as if someone had just told him the funniest joke he ever heard, the way his torso bent forward to accompany sick amusement creeped you out. Tsukishima pretended to wipe a tear and smiled at you. 

“Oh, Y/N… You’re definitely something else, huh?” He said rhetorically, stretching his arm so his hand could cup your face. You stood still, suddenly unsure about his actions and words. Tsukishima has never used such a cold and psychotic tone with you, let alone that sadistic smirk hiding so many feelings. “So you finally accepted that you’re mine, right?”

“H-How can I be yours if you don’t give yourself to me, as well?” Never in your life have you felt so terrified, something in Tsukishima’s demeanor screamed that he wasn’t joking around. He was about to do something bad, and it would be against you. “Isn’t my love enough for you?”

“Well, to be honest? It’s almost enough” he agreed, his index finger traced down your cheeks, following down your neck until it pointed directly to the left side of your chest, above your beating heart. “So, shall I claim what is mine?”

The time seemed to be slowed down, your heartbeats were loud in your ears and your limbs were numb - you couldn’t move them at all. Regardless, it would be impossible for you, a mere human, to stop Tsukishima from slamming his hand against your chest. You didn’t feel physical pain, but the sensation of something, someone wrapping slender fingers around your inner self made you scream. 

“Tsukishima, w-what are you doing?” Your trembling voice made him laugh, the same hand he used to hit you fully on display for you to see him close it. The immediate reaction of you was a shriek, as if the demon was squeezing your insides. “What the fuck, Tsukki?”

 “Why are you so surprised?” Tsukishima asked with fake innocence, wiping the tears you didn’t know you shed. “You just told me you loved me with all your heart, that a part of your soul is mine… So I’m claiming my belongings, after all, this is the kind of demon I am: whenever a stupid little human like you summons me with blood, they sell their souls to me. It’s a matter of time for me to get it”

“I… I trusted you, Tsukki…” Your sobs interrupted your own speech. All the intimate moments you two have spent together were pure acting, meaningless, just to make you give your everything spontaneously to him. 

Your grandmother was right. You regretted every single interaction you had with Tsukishima, the demon you summoned before entering college. 

“Well, it’s your own fault.” With that, Tsukishima harshly pulled his hand backwards, leaving behind only an empty body with no soul. 

TAGLIST

crossed users are the ones i couldn’t tag!

@jovialnoise @paripedia @angmarwitch @shinhiromi @mariachiiii @elianetsantana @moonlightaangel @vicassa @boosyboo9206 @shrimpypenis @sunshine-hina @kozupresh @humanitysbiggestsimp @atsumubabe​ @sachirou-senpai

[myaxrp]

PLOT IDEAS MASTERLIST

Since I have a lot of ideas for plots, I decided it’ll be easier to just write a masterlist with all of them. This list will be updated, in time, and some things might be added or removed according to what I’m feeling like playing at the time. I mostly like to play female muses, but I stay open to play males if need be! My most played pairing is m/f but there too, I’m open to anything really. So hit me up if any of these plot sounds good to you!

Slice-of-Life:

★ Muse A spent the last few years away from home for their studies / to pursue their dreams. The night they come back to their hometown, they go to the bar and hook up with a stranger, Muse B. But the next day when Muse A turns up at their older brother’s place to surprise him, they end up face to face with Muse B. Turns out, Muse B is the roommate and best friend of Muse A’s brother. And Muse A is supposed to become the new addition to the household.

★ Muse A is a bartender and during a shift, they meet Muse B. Muse B seems to drink a little too much and enjoy playing with the ladies, not romance material. But that’s okay because Muse A wants to stay far away from romance. But when Muse A finds Muse B completely drunk, in front of the bar, once the bar closes, and is forced to drive them back home, Muse A and Muse B end up talking, laughing and eventually hook up. And there are definitely sparks flying for both of them. But on top of everything else, what Muse A doesn’t know, is that Muse B is actually a superstar.

★ When they were younger, Muse A and Muse B lived a whirlwind romance. They met and a month later were already ready to say the other was “The One”. But suddenly Muse A gets pregnant. Afraid to jeopardize Muse B’s blossoming career as an actor / singer / whatever else, Muse A disappears from his life without a world and moves away. 6 years later, Muse A and Muse B bump into each other at random and despite the hurt, the years that passed and the huge difference in their lifestyles, the sparks are still there. But now Muse A needs to explain why she has a little 6 years old waiting for her at home.

★ Muse A and Muse B are both aspiring actors. They meet during a casting one day and things don’t go very well between them. After that one little hiccup, they keep bumping into each other at castings and always end up in a shouting match or an insult competition against one another. Until, one day, they’re both chosen to play in the same TV show. Not only that, but they’re picked to play the lead couple. The fictional couple is very much in love, fluffy and cuddly. But in real life, Muse A and Muse B can hardly stand each other. But then what is this surprising chemistry between them when they get into their roles? And why is there such a sexual tension every time they have to get too close to one another?

★ Muse B last roommate left suddenly after Muse B hooked up with her and made it known that there wouldn’t be anything more after their night of passion. But Muse B can’t cover the cost of the whole apartment and needs a new roommate quickly. Muse A just arrived in the city, trying to get as far from the past as possible and start a new life where nobody knows about the type of person Muse A was in the past. But the cohabitation between Muse A and Muse B starts on the wrong foot. Muse A is a loner, a book lover and in all point, might look like a boring and shy person. Muse B is a player and likes to party a lot, comes back home drunk and invites friends over all the time. And Muse B loves to tease and make fun of Muse A, doing all that’s possible to get on Muse A’s nerve, just for the fun of it. And it’s making very hard for Muse A to not let her real personality show, to not make it known that despite appearances, Muse A is not that shy and fragile person Muse B imagines.  Especially when the tension shifts from hostile to.. something more sensual.

★ Muse A has a new.. friend with benefit? Boyfriend? They never really did choose what they are during the last month of them hooking up. But outside from the sex, nothing is that memorable or great about that relation. When, one night, Muse A’s roommate gets sick of hearing Muse A and her boyfriend through the wall of the bedroom, the boyfriend accepts to invite Muse A at his place for the night instead. But the boyfriend lives with his brother, Muse B. And as soon as Muse B meets Muse A, he wants to prove how much better of a lover, and a boyfriend it could be. At first it’s just a challenge coming from jealousy for his brother, who seems to have it all, but the more Muse B pursues Muse A, the more they bicker and talk and the more the tension builds between them, the more the feelings they have become real.

★ Muse  A is a singer, and the leader of a band that’s getting really popular. Muse B is a dancer, and the leader of a small dance group who’s been getting in the spotlight more and more. One day, Muse B’s group is hired to work on a special big tour planned for Muse A’s group. The two groups will not only have to work together but also to live together for the months to come. But it’s going to be hard when the two leaders seem to bump heads all the time. Even harder still, when hate and bickering starts to fade and attraction and feelings start to get in the way instead !

★ Muse A and Muse B are both twitch streamers. Popular in their own rights, but not huge. Until one day some fans on social medias start to ship the two of them out of the blue, despite them having never met, or really interacted, simply because Muse B once mentioned Muse A in one of their stream. This ship idea takes a life of its own, becoming huge on social media and both streamers realize that this idea of a romance brings a surprising popularity to them, so much so that they decide that faking it might just bring them to the heights they always wanted to attain in their streaming career. 

Angst / Action:

★ Muse A and Muse B both grew up with their fathers heading big gangs / criminal organizations. But it’s time for them to step down and it’s up to Muse A and Muse B respectively to take their place. But Muse A and Muse B meet for the first time, a little before they have to take their positions, and as they talk, they have no idea who is facing them. They hit it off, big time. But when they finally have to meet face to face in their official roles, both at the head of rival gangs, the illusion is broken. The two gangs have been rivals forever and the two families hold grudges. So, it’s only natural for Muse A and Muse B to hate each too.. Right? It’s hard to remember when they look at each other though.

★ Muse A and Muse B are both PI in the same city. Fortunately, they never had to deal with each other in the past. But when their cases end up being linked, and they have less than a week to get to the bottom of things before something bad happens, there’s no other way than to team up. But Muse A and Muse B are both loners, their personalities clash terribly and they have very different methods when it comes to their work. But they have to make it work to solve the case. And to do that, they really really shouldn’t listen to their urges. Not the one to kill each other, and not the one to rip each other’s clothes off either.

★

★

Fantasy / SciFi:

★ Muse A was born in a Coven of Seers, descendant of Witches bestowed with the power of seeing ghosts and spirits. Seers are able to lend their body to one spirit at a time, being in co-consciousness with them in the same body, in order to help them accomplish the last task binding them to Earth so they can see the light leading to the afterlife. But Muse A was born different. She discovered that at an early age when, at 7 years old, her first spirit inhabited her body.. And never left. Posession was a Seers greatest fear and the biggest risk in their line of work. But posession meant that a spirit took over the body, trapping the original soul inside until it withered away and the spirit could roam around in the body forever. This wasn’t what Muse A was experiencing. Because throughout the years, spirits came and went, using her body as they would an hotel. Some left after hours or days. Some stayed there forever. She owned an Inner World. A very rare thing, considered a myth. A very dangerous thing in the eyes of the Seers. Most of the time the spirits stayed deep in the Inner World, not impacting Muse A’s life more than blabbering inside her head here and there, but sometimes, when they were a little too worked up, wanted to come out and play.. When they were a little too present, they would impact her personality, her way of speaking, her likes and dislikes, as she blended herself a little bit with  them. This was a hard thing to hide and when she became old enough, she fled her Coven to protect her secret, living as normal of a life as she could in a small town far from her roots. Until she met Muse B. A reaper, the best of his generation, feared and respected by most of his peers, bitter and bored from his years of service, from seeing gruesome deaths on the daily and having everyone at his beck and call. Reapers were the ones sending spirits to the afterlife. Even by force, if they had to. A dangerous, often violent and gruesome line of work. And unfortunately for Muse A, she caught the eye of the Reaper Association who sent Muse B to recruit her, not knowing she was more than a simple girl able to see and communicate with ghosts. Muse B then becomes her mentor and temporary partner in the Association. But Muse A doesn’t listen to his rules, doesn’t bow down to him and has a way of infuriating him with her sarcasm and stubbornness that is as refreshing to him as it is annoying. 

★ Muse A seems to dream about the same person every night for a few days now. A stranger Muse A never met. Until one morning, when the new neighbour comes knocking at the door for an introduction. Muse B is the man haunting Muse A’s dreams. And after that first uneventful meeting, Muse B too starts to dream about Muse A. Both of them try to not think about it too much but it becomes impossible when Muse A realize that every dream about Muse B popping during the night seems to become reality during the day. The more Muse A and Muse B interact, the more they seem perfect for each other, and the more they start to believe and rely on their dreams. So when Muse A dreams about Muse B being in an accident, the goal is to prevent it at whatever cost! 

★ In a near future, after the rate of divorce hits an all-time high, a new technology is invented and each person is offered a chip, implanted on the shoulder, that can calculate someone’s compatibility with every person they meet until they meet the person deemed to be their soulmate. Muse A is a PI on a job, searching for a dangerous criminal, Muse B. After weeks of research and a game of cat and mouse, Muse A and Muse B are finally forced into a face to face. They both know only one of them can come back from this encounter alive. But as soon as they face each other, Muse A and Muse B receive the notification. They have a 100% compatibility rate.

★

★

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

The Fuck Is a Gender? (Fanfic)

A short fic in which BJ is introduced to the concept of gender and immediately hates it.

(ps. please don’t be afraid to correct me if I got terminology or feelings wrong, this is the first time I have written a non-binary character and do not want to offend anyone.)

_____________________________________________________________

Nothing much came as a shock to the residents of the Deetz-Maitland household, not since the family the moved in was now cohabiting with a ghost couple and a demon from the Netherworld. They loved their strange little world, and while it was messy at times with all the different lives intersecting they thought it was perfect. It was their ordinary.  Adam hardly even blinked when Beetlejuice came down for breakfast that morning but instead of his typical suit and striped button-up shirt he was wearing a similarly styled dress. To be honest Adam hadn’t even noticed until Lydia sat down at the table and scolded Beetlejuice for stealing her last bottle of nail polish. 

“Beej, what’s with the new style?” he asked, buttering his toast with a knife

“My suit was dirty, plus haven’t worn this in a while so I figured why not give it a whirl. Why do you find it utterly captivating?”

“You wash your clothes?” Lydia teased, “Didn’t know you were even capable of working the washing machine.”

“Watch it Scarecrow, you’re tiny I could put you in it and turn on the spin cycle.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve tried that before! It won’t work if there’s a person inside…”

Beetlejuice got a glimmer in his eyes, “Wait wanna try it again after breakfast? I’m sure I can find out a way to make it work with you inside of it-”

“Sorry to interrupt what is bound to be a terrible terrible idea that will endanger Lydia’s wellbeing,” Barbara glared at the duo, “But what’s going on?”

“Not much honestly,” Beetlejuice stood back up from the table, the fabric of the skirt of his dress swaying along with his movements, “Adam, my dude, my bro. Join me.”

Adam blushed, “Sorry but dresses aren’t really my thing.”

“Why the hell not? They’re super freeing. To think, we are forced to cage our lower limbs in two cylinders when you can have them only in one, open cylinder. It is a liberating concept Adam. Clearly, Delia and Babs have got the right idea. Hell even little Deetz gets it”

Lydia beamed, “Viva la revolution! If wearing dresses is sticking it to society than sign me up right now.”

“I don’t know, I guess I just prefer to dress more masculine? Don’t get me wrong that dress looks great on you but I don’t think I’d be comfortable wearing on myself.”

Beetlejuice tilted his head, “The hell you mean more masculine?”

“Well typically guys don’t wear dresses like if you ever go in a baby store and go to the girl’s section it’s all dresses and pink and stuff but if you go over to the boy’s section it’s all overalls and blues.”

“Clothing doesn’t have a gender?”

“No you’re right you’re right.” Adam fumbled

“This should be good,” Lydia laughed as she drank the milk out of her cereal bowl before putting it in the sink

“Clothes don’t have a specific gender but like the way I choose to express..my gender...doesn’t include wearing a dress. I mean hey if yours does than absolutely go for it! People should dress however they want, I personally just don’t want to wear a dress.”

“What do you mean express my gender?” Beetlejuice asked

“So like I identify as a man, right? So I dress and present as a guy so that people refer to me like that.”

“Wait so how do you guys think of me? Like you guys percvieve me as one of two things? Are you forgetting that I am an actual demon, like wasn’t born human at all and can shapeshift? The hell am I supposed to be?”

“You could be non-binary?” Lydia suggested, “That’s kinda like when you don’t identify with either of the two typical genders. Some days you might dress like a guy, other days you can wear more feminine stuff but you have GOT to stop raiding my closet, I don’t care that you can shapeshift you cannot keep stealing my skirts and getting them dirty. I have to wear those for school you asshole.”

“So how does that sound to you?” Adam asked

“I mean that’s fine with me. I know you guys call me “he” all the time and I literally don’t care because I mean this whole gender thing is some human bullshit. Why the fuck does fabric have societal concepts attached to it?”

“Probably government propaganda.” Lydia shrugged, “So are we going to try and put me in the washing machine or….”

Barbara glared at her, “Absolutely not!”

[spaceskam]

our fainted thrill carries on (5/13)

next chapter of my season 2 fix it!

ao3

“I can’t believe you were being a goddamn Peeping Tom at 3 in the morning at Flint Manes of all people. He’s not, like, ugly, but you can definitely do better.”

Kyle shook his head as he entered the motel room Cam was staying at, already yanking his notebook out of his bag. He dropped onto her bed and flipped it open to the page where he’d drawn the symbol from Jesse Manes’ hip.

“I wasn’t peeping for fun, look at this,” Kyle said. Cam sat beside him. “This is the tattoo that both Jesse Manes and Flint Manes have. I didn’t have a chance to check, but I would put money on the fact that at least one of Alex’s other brothers has it too.”

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“That’s the thing, I don’t actually know,” he told her, “There’s just something about it that’s off to me. It’s a combination of the male symbol and the Neptune symbol, which is three, like the trident, so I’m thinking it’s three men, right? Well, when Alex was talking to his dad earlier, he mentioned something called M.V.C.”

“Which is…?”

“Again, I don’t know.”

“You’re coming here with a lot of missing information.”

“Yes, but,” Kyle said, “I have theories.”

She eyed him before leaning a bit closer to get a good look at the symbol. It was a long shot, but he figured another brain might help piece shit together more. Besides, she was smart and thought like Alex without all of the daddy issues.

“So, originally, I was thinking that maybe it was just three different guys, but now I’m thinking it’s three different generations. Like, the generations of Manes Men that are hunting aliens or whatever. And it’s more symbolic that three actual generations, it’s more of like ‘my father, me, my son’ type of deal. I have no way of seeing if Jesse Manes’ father had one, but the one on his hip looks aged enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if his father did it himself when he was, like, 15.”

“Jesus.”

“I mean, think about it, Jesse having a seriously controlling father would explain why he is the way he is,” Kyle said. He knew she didn’t know all the details about Alex’s relationship with his father, but she knew enough. “And the reason why Alex didn’t get roped in is because he showed early on that he was rebellious and it took more than intimidation to instill conformity.”

“Okay, nice theory, but I think that might be a stretch? Like, I think you’re trying to fit what you know about Cap and his dad into the box of what you think the tattoo means. What if it’s something completely different and you’re just veering really far off track?” Cam said. Kyle smiled at her and, if she wasn’t capable of killing him, he probably would’ve done something stupid like thank her for having a brain.

“Yes, absolutely! I am too wrapped up in this theory and I’m trying to prove it right rather than trying to find objective information,” Kyle said, “Which is where you come in.”

“I’m listening.”

“Thursday night, we’re having like a group dinner at Max’s, so I’ll know where everyone is and know that they’re safe. Do you think you can do some sleuthing in that time to see what you can find?” Kyle asked. Her face hardened and she leaned away from him.

“By sleuthing, do you mean seducing Flint Manes?” she asked cooly. Kyle immediately shook his head, though now that she mentioned it, it did sound like a good idea. 

“I mean, not necessarily,” he said. Cam fixed him with a look.

“I’ll look into things, but I’m not sleeping with Cap’s brother,” she said. Kyle nodded easily.

“Absolutely, I just need fresh eyes and ideas," he told her. She nodded, reaching over to the nightstand and grabbing her phone. She took a picture of the symbol. 

"I'll keep you updated. Now go home and go the fuck to sleep because you look like you haven't slept in 24 hours."

He didn't have the heart to correct her that it was 36.

-

"Michael fucking Guerin!"

Michael slowly smiled at the sound of Alex's voice as he climbed out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his hips and grabbed another one to dry his hair, throwing the bathroom door open. He sauntered to the kitchen where Alex was doing laundry. The washing machine and dryer were really out of place there, but Alex had rigged them up all by himself and who was Michael to judge.

"You called?"

Alex whipped around, totally unphased by Michael's level of nudity. That felt more worthwhile than when he got flustered. This… this was fucking normal. How cool was that?

"What is this?" Alex demanded, shoving his jeans in Michael's direction, "Is that wood glue?" 

Michael took it from him and gently scratched the rough, dull-colored patch on the fabric.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"You are a mechanic. What are you doing with wood glue? Why are you messing with wood glue when you're wearing my jeans? Stop ruining my jeans!"

“Relax,” Michael laughed, grabbing them out of his hands, “You got vinegar? That’ll usually get it out.”

Alex just continued to glare at him and Michael took a bold step forward, tilting his head in a slightly cocky manner. He licked his bottom lip and watched as Alex’s irritation slowly melted, his shoulders dropping. Not for the first time that week, he thought about kissing him, but he held off. That was a bad idea and they both knew it.

“Go put vinegar on it and then get dressed,” Alex told him, stepping to the side to go find a pair of not-stained jeans. Before Michael could catch himself, he grabbed his arm and leaned close. Alex couldn’t even hide his smile as he did so, still trying to force a glare. “What do you want?”

“Don’t be mad at me, please,” Michael said as softly as he could, pouting slightly and batting his eyelashes. Alex rolled his eyes and pulled out of his grasp.

“Dry off, you heathen,” Alex laughed. Michael watched as he headed to the bedroom and took a deep breath before he turned to put that section of his jeans in a bowl of vinegar.

It was weird to think that this was the most stable they’d ever been for the longest amount of time. Tonight would make it a full week of sleeping in the same bed, spending all their free time together, learning more about each other than they ever had. Michael didn’t realize just how much he didn’t know about Alex. Sure, maybe he still hadn’t mentioned that piece, but it was hard to be mad by that when Alex was right there and laughing through a story about a time in France where he accidentally walked in on his past CO getting off to a Lady Gaga music video and had been sworn to secrecy, but Michael was an exception.

Soon enough, they were in Michael’s truck, carpooling to Max’s house. He shouldn’t have felt so fucking giddy about going to his dead brother’s house for some pseudo-family dinner, but he was. It helped that Alex’s jeans hugged his thighs and Alex was right there, humming along to the radio.

“Oh, so, just a warning, Liz is probably going to ask you about what’s going on between us,” Michael warned, “Maybe Isobel too, but most likely Liz.”

“Why?” Alex asked slowly. 

“Because she thinks I’m, like, leading you and Maria on or something. But I’m not, right? Like, you don’t think that’s what I’m doing, do you?” Michael clarified. Alex instantly shook his head.

“We’re literally trying to revive a dead alien and trying to track down whatever my dad’s bullshit is, who has time for maintaining a romantic relationship?” he said.

“Exactly!” Michael scoffed. Alex huffed a small little laugh that was so much cuter than it had any right being.

“She hasn’t talked to me about it,” Alex admitted, tapping against his leg to the rhythm of the song playing on the radio, “Actually, neither of them have really talked to me at all about anything.”

“Wait, for real?” Michael asked, “You’re giving Liz a space to do all of her experimentings and she doesn’t even talk to you?” Alex shrugged like it didn’t matter. But it did. Michael was the first to admit he was shit at maintaining friendships, but Liz and Maria always claimed Alex was their best friend. They took care of each other, he was one of theirs.

But did that only apply for when they needed something?

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I mean, it’s just weird. Like, she acted like she’d talked to you about it like she was scared that you were gonna get hurt,” Michael explained, “Not that I’d ever hurt you on purpose like that again, by the way.” Alex snorted.

“Liz and I have never, and I mean never, talked about my love life. Which is fine, there’s not much to tell, but still, she’s never once acted like she was concerned about what the two of us are doing while cohabiting,” Alex said. Michael took his bottom lip between his teeth. Cohabiting. “And Maria and I used to talk about it, but that stopped once she found out it was you I had a history with. Then… after she came over, we haven’t really talked at all. Which is my fault too, I haven’t reached out.”

“I’m sorry I fucked things up between you two,” Michael said, glancing over at him. He had his head against the window, staring at the passing desert with interested eyes. It was just like he’d done when they were young and Michael didn’t know how to process that.

“No, we didn’t exactly try. One day I’ll talk to her. I sort of have to get up the courage because I feel bad about the way I acted,” Alex admitted. Michael huffed a laugh.

“Same,” he said, “I was probably worse.”

“I would say we could go apologize to her together, but I think she might get the wrong idea if we’re within 50 feet of each other,” Alex said, biting back a laugh, “I did corrupt your straight white boy ass, you know.”

Michael shook his head with a laugh. “Cute.”

“Well, that’s what she thinks. Or, a lot of people think,” Alex said, “What is your percentage anyway? Like, a lot of bi people have a percentage or something, not always 50/50.”

“Yeah, see, I don’t fucking know,” Michael admitted. Alex actually laughed this time and Michael just smiled. He really didn’t know. He thought he was pretty 50/50, but it was hard to really conceptualize that on a human level. He guessed he could make a list of everyone he’d slept with and base it off of that, but even that felt skewed because most of the time he’d had pretty limited options in Roswell. If he counted everyone he’d been attracted to, though, that felt like an even harder thing. Did famous people count? Cartoons? At the end of the day, who really held a candle to Jessica Rabbit? “I just act on how I feel in the moment. But you aren’t the only man I’ve hooked up with if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex asked, “Who else?”

“Okay, it was only one other guy and it was just, like, giving head in the bathroom of a club, but still. You didn’t make me queer, you just made me know it was okay,” Michael said. Alex was quiet and when Michael glanced over at him, he saw him staring at him with that look. The one with the half-lidded eyes and the parted lips and his head tilted back. It had his stomach doing flips. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alex hummed, leaning forward to turn the radio up. Misery Business by Paramore was playing, still in it’s first few chords as if Alex had just sensed it was on.

“You can’t just ignore me for Hayley Williams,” Michael laughed. Alex cranked it up louder, the speakers thudding as the instruments kicked in. “Really?”

“I’m in the business of misery, let’s take it from the top,” Alex sang, leaning in instead of answering. Michael just rolled his eyes and joined in until they were both headbanging and scream-singing at the windshield. It felt good. Everything else in the world paled in comparison to just that.

He was almost sad as they pulled up to Max’s house.

-

Alex was not at all surprised when Rosa flew out of the door and immediately latched onto him as they walked up.

“Oh, thank god, save me.”

He laughed easily, wrapping her in a hug. He’d promised to see her more often, but he hadn’t really been making good on that promise. It was a problem that he definitely was going to put more effort into fixing. She was one of the only ones he could even tolerate at this point.

“Is it that bad?” Michael asked with a smile. Rosa looked over at him with a slightly judgy look in her eye, but he didn’t seem to take offense to it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Can I move in with you for, like, a week?” she begged, “If I have to be locked alone or with Liz or with Isobel for any more time, I am going to lose it. It’s only been, like, a month.” Alex looked over to Michael and raised an eyebrow in question. Michael held up his hands.

“Hey, it’s your house. If you want a guest, don’t let me stop you,” he said.

“Mm,” Alex hummed in response. Michael flashed him a warm smile and then let himself inside the door, leaving Rosa and Alex alone. 

She waited until the door closed and they were, for the most part, out of earshot before pulling away. The look on her face was nothing short of intrigued and he was again filled with an old sense of belonging. Maybe he would let her stay for a while. Lately, Michael had been giving him that same welcome feeling, so why not add more to the mixture? It made him feel good.

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to slowly pull it out of you?” she asked. A confused smile fond his face and he tilted his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Alex,” she said, pouting her lips as she teased him, “Amor está en el aire.”

“Stop,” he warned despite her dramatic tone bringing a smile to his lips.

“Or should I say lust.”

“That would be even further away,” Alex laughed, looking up to double-check that no one was hanging outside the door and then casually scoping the rest of the perimeter that he could see, “We’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” Rosa hummed, crossing her arms and popping her hip out to the side as she judged him, “And there’s no residual feelings?”

“Okay, I didn’t say that,” Alex said, trying ignoring the way his cheeks started to burn, “But we’re just not in a place for that and, honestly, things are better right now than they’ve ever been between us. I’m not going to fuck with that especially when we’re still not done handling things with my dad.”

“When will you ever be done with your dad, though, Alex? Because even after he’s dead, he’s still going to haunt you and we all know it,” Rosa said bluntly. Alex’s smile dropped easily and he shifted his weight. “I don’t want you putting off your happiness for something that’ll never go away.”

“It’s not that,” he said, but he paused, “Well, it’s a little bit that. But mostly we’re just still in the thick of it, it’d be stupid.”

“Is that it or are you just scared to ask for what you want?” Rosa pressed. He scoffed.

“You’re just going in deep aren’t you?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she grinned, “No, but, for real, can I stay with you?”

“Depends, are you going to mock me for sharing a bed with him?”

Rosa’s eyes went wide and she scoffed, her jaw-dropping dramatically.

“I swear, if I could go back and tell baby Alex that he’d be sharing a bed with the boy he’s in love with, he’d tell me I was a liar.”

“If you told baby Alex a lot of things that are going on right now, he’d tell you you were a liar,” he laughed, “Let’s go inside and I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay, you harlot.”

“There it is.”

-

Isobel gave him that look that told Michael that he was in trouble.

“Oh, what the hell did I do this time?” he asked. 

She looked over to where Kyle and Liz were cooking before grabbing his arm, pulling him down the hall and sufficiently into Max’s bedroom. They both unintentionally upturned their noses at how much Liz and Rosa had just made it their own space. It was jarring no matter how much they understood that she had the full right to do so. Eventually, Isobel shifted her attention back to him.

“How are you?”

Michael blinked at her for a moment in confusion. “Huh?”

A small pout overcame her face and she sighed, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Rosa and Liz and it’s come to my attention that I may have been a shitty sister. We used to act like them, or something, but now I feel like we’ve just drifted apart without Max. Which I have no excuse for because I can feel you a lot more now. You feel… better.”

Michael was hesitant to smile as he watched her. This felt like one of those conversations that was going to veer off into the other direction, but right now… Right now, she looked sincere. So sincere that he pulled her into a hug and she clung right back. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her. 

“Catch me up, what have I missed,” she urged, grabbing his hands and sitting them both on the bed, “I’ll go first so you don’t think I’m hounding you. I donated a few grand of Noah’s money to a woman’s shelter, I have been really good at being nice to both Ortecho sisters, and I’ve been working with Arturo to make a name for the Crashdown online whenever I’m not working on my powers or, like, my actual job. Your turn.”

Michael very quickly realized he had nothing for show and tell. He simply went to work, helped them at the lab, checked on Max, and went home to Alex, repeat. What was brag-worthy about that?

“I don’t really have anything to update you on,” Michael said. Isobel rolled her eyes. 

“You are significantly less stressed than you were even last week,” she said, “What changed since then?”

He didn’t know how to answer without sounding stupid. Open honesty with Alex had suddenly cured his soul? Well, it wasn’t that. He couldn’t even really articulate what exactly had caused him to feel like this.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging, “Alex just likes having me around and we talk about things. We never used to do that before, it feels good.” Isobel gave him a tiny smile, like she knew something he didn’t. 

“You’re really happy with him?”

“We’re not, like, together or anything. I don’t want that right now, we’re just good like we are. But I… I can’t describe why it’s so good right now.”

“Because it’s unconditional,” Isobel said, voice soft and eyes glassy. She didn’t usually give him that look or speak to him like that. They were usually playful, but she looked serious. He wondered if it had anything to do with Max not being around. “You’re finally feeling unconditional love.”

Michael swallowed hard as she just said it out loud. It felt like a good descriptor, honestly. He felt wanted and needed, but in a way that meant he could also want and need right back and it wouldn’t result in failure. Because Alex trusted him enough to call him when he needed him even after all the bullshit, he didn’t kick him out when he ruined his jeans, he didn’t yell at him for not understanding, he only kept one secret. Alex had said open and he’d thrown himself all in.

But now that she said it out loud, it sounded terrifying.

“Okay, you look like you’re going to throw up,” Isobel said, sniffling, “Sorry, I’m just, like, feeding off your emotions and you just… you feel really safe. I’ve never felt that from you before and I didn’t realize. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you’ve never felt safe, Michael.”

“It’s okay,” he said, still trying to process it for himself. Is this really what it was supposed to feel like all the time?

“No, it’s not. I’ve been a shitty sister.”

“I’ve been a shitty brother.”

Isobel just rolled her eyes and pulled him into another hug, one that lasted a little longer than the one before. He sighed easily against her shoulder, closing his eyes as he relaxed in her grasp. He missed her so much.

“So, are you guys back together?”

“What? No.”

The sweet moment ended when she slapped his shoulder.

-

“So, um, your dad,” Liz said, scraping her fork against the plate. 

When Alex had suggested this whole thing so he could get a feel on how Liz was coping, he had stupidly thought that maybe, just maybe, it would feel normal. They were all friends, all of them close and reliant on each other. And yet it was fucking awkward.

“Right,” Alex said, clearing his throat and putting his fork down, “So, we’re pretty sure he’s up to something on a deeper level. There’s something called M.V.C. that I’ve been trying to look into, but I’m not finding anything yet. I don’t know if I’m just looking in the wrong places or what, but, that being said, I think we all need to be careful.”

“I’m already being careful,” Liz told him. Alex nodded once.

“I know, I’m saying we need to be extra cautious,” Alex went on, “My brothers are in town and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re tied up in this shit. With Max being gone and us focusing on that, it makes everyone a little more vulnerable.” 

“Us?” Liz asked, tone still clipped, “No, it’s me and Isobel and Michael working on Max.”

Alex blinked and refused to show any emotion, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. He knew that Liz wasn’t exactly his biggest fan right now‒God knows why‒but he wasn’t sure why she was being rude. He’d given her a lab and they were supposed to be friends, and yet it seemed to stop there. They didn’t talk. They didn’t do anything. How much was that for friendship?

“Anyway,” Kyle jumped in, “Right now, Jenna is looking into Flint and Jesse to see if she can get any separate information that we aren’t getting.”

Alex took the moment of attention being taken off of him to look over for some strength to keep his mind on track. He didn’t want to let whatever Liz felt towards him distract him from why he was here. He locked eyes with Rosa who raised her eyebrows and tilted her head just enough to say you got this. He wasn’t sure she even knew what she was supporting him to do, but she did it anyway without any hesitation. He loved her for that.

“Wait, Jenna’s back in town?” Isobel asked.

“Yeah,” Kyle answered, “And she’s giving me updates, but so far Flint isn’t budging. Apparently, he’d been warned about her.”

“Back up, you told her about everything with Max?” Liz asked. Kyle eyed her and then gave Alex a look that said ‘see?’. Alex’s eyes drifted to Isobel and then Michael, both of them looking like they didn’t belong in the conversation, then to Rosa who was trying to hype him up to get on topic. “Because that is not your business to tell.”

“Liz, you know you can trust us, right?” Alex said, “Because it feels like you think you’re on you’re own.”

“Is that right? Because the only one helping me with Max is Michael and Isobel,” Liz argued, “You and Kyle aren’t helping.”

“Liz, I am helping, I’m just trying to also deal with Project Shepard stuff,” Kyle said softly. Liz shook her head, clearly irritated with him saying that. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

“Liz, my father is an actual threat,” Alex told her, “We don’t even know if Max has a chance. His heart is shredded. Can he even be revived, Liz? Honestly, can he? Or is this just false hope to distract you from mourning him?”

Liz stared at him with a look that was so distinctly Rosa that it was jarring. She shoved her chair back and got to her feet, abandoning the table. They all sat quietly for a moment before Rosa pushed back her chair.  Alex shook his head.

“I got it,” he said. Michael caught his eye, seeming a little too serious as he stared at him. That’d be the next thing he dealt with.

Alex followed Liz to the bedroom and found her standing there like she was preparing for a fight, face hardened and eyes set on him the moment he walked through the door. He took a moment to prepare himself as he shut the door behind him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Alex,” she said as soon as the latch clicked in place.

“The science part? No, you’re right, I don’t. But I do know that you’re being more than a little irrational. What happens if it doesn’t work? Is Max even getting better at all?” 

“Nothing exponential yet, but it’s something! It’s only been a month, Alex! We’re not going backward and that’s all I need to know that I can fix this!”

“Okay, and if you do fix it, then what happens? If you manage to resurrect him, then what? Because with the way you’re acting, I’m failing to see how you’re aren’t going to get some sort of power high from resurrecting someone.”

“The way I’m acting? Who are you, my dad? I’m just doing what’s right! He died to bring Rosa back, it’s my job to bring him back!”

“Is it, though? It’s not like you asked him to bring her back.”

“It doesn’t matter! I love him!” she yelled, tears brimming her eyes, “I love him and I hate him! He didn’t even ask me and he, he just left me as soon as I had something good! This can’t be the end of it!”

Things clicked in Alex’s head then and he took a step forward, holding his hands out so she could see them clearly. 

“I know,” he said, “I know how it feels to lose someone just when it gets good.”

“Oh, screw you, Alex, you don’t know how I feel. You can’t compare your stupid little affair in high school to this,” Liz spat. He nodded even though it rubbed him the wrong way.

“You’re right, it’s not the same,” he agreed, “But pushing everyone away isn’t going to help, and being in denial isn’t going to help either. You need to mourn and you need your friends.” Liz shook her head and took a step away from him.

“No, what I need is Kyle and Michael to focus on helping me instead of being at your every beck and call,” she told him. Alex let his hands drop, his eyebrows furrowing. “They’re the only ones who can help me and you’re just capitalizing their time.”

“You’re… mad at me for having friends? You lost me,” Alex said. Liz groaned, throwing her head back and wiping her head.

“I’m not mad at you for having friends, I’m mad that,” Liz said, stopping herself as she gathered her thoughts, “I’m mad that…”

“That things aren’t going your way?” Alex filled in, “That things aren’t like they used to be? That I’m not just going to fold and back away and let you and Maria walk all over me and take everything?” 

Liz scoffed, “We did not walk all over you.”

“Okay, maybe not, but you were definitely put first. Hell, you still are on some level. I know you don’t get it, but if I avoid my father, it won’t matter if you can bring Max back or not. We’re all fucked.  We’re breaking rules to accommodate you and Michael and Kyle are doing all that they can to help you even if you don’t see it,” Alex explained, “And, look, I know you don’t like me anymore, but I do still care about you and it’s worrying me that you aren’t thinking clearly.”

“What?” Liz sighed, looking at him like he’d lost it, “What do you mean I don’t like you?”

“I’m not stupid, Liz. You call me your friend because we used to be, but actions speak louder than words.”

“Oh, but that doesn’t apply to you?”

“Excuse me?” Alex asked. She gave him a look like he should know what she meant, but he had no idea. 

“You know that Michael has no idea what he wants and you’re still playing house with him,” she said, “I know you aren’t stupid, Alex, which is what I’m not getting. Why are you letting him in your house like that when you know he’s just trying to fuck you and Maria over? I like him, I do, and I know he’s charming, but he doesn’t care about anything but himself, Max, and Isobel at the end of the day. He is just like Max but even more destructive and all you’re doing is enabling him to hurt more people.”

Her words hit Alex like a blow to the stomach. He physically took a step back, trying to follow her ridiculous train of thought. 

“Don’t talk about something you know nothing about,” Alex breathed, shaking his head. She gave him a truly pitiful look like he was the one who should feel bad.

“I know enough.”

“Do you?” Alex scoffed, “Do you know that I love him? That he loves me? That I have spent over a decade keeping him safe and I am not about to stop now? Maybe that makes me a fucking dumbass, but I know what I’m getting myself into with him. He’s not trying to fuck Maria over, he’s trying to learn how to take care of himself before he dives into something. He is doing better than I have ever seen him and I’m not going to take that away because you don’t understand. And he is not like Max. Just because your little alien is murderous and self-righteous, doesn’t mean mine is. And, for God’s sake, don’t act like this is about Michael when it’s about me.”

Liz stared at him, his words slowly but surely sinking in. He waited and stared without faltering. He realized a little bit more about the benefits of having Michael Guerin staying in his house. After this was over, he didn’t have to be alone. After this, he was going to go home and curl up against his chest and listen to him breathe and be held until he fell asleep. That would make up for this.

“You’re in love?” she asked. Alex rubbed his hands over his face.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “What matters is you think I’m sabotaging things by going after my dad and monopolizing Michael’s time. That isn’t what’s happening and I don’t know how to make you realize that.” 

Liz stared at him, those frustrated tears coming right back.

“I don’t know who you are anymore, Alex,” she admitted, “Everyone’s changed since we were kids, but you’re a completely different person. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to handle that on top of everything else.”

That stung, but Alex knew it was fair. He was still trying to see himself too.

“Okay,” Alex said, “Then I’ll make time to work closer with you.” 

“What?”

“That’s the problem, right? You’re struggling to trust me, but we’re both the ones discovering the most information about this shit. We should be working together,” Alex decided, “Then maybe you can re-get to know me.”

“Okay.”

“You need friends, Liz,” he told her, “Or you’re going to break.”

Liz took a deep breath and nodded, wiping away her tears.

“Okay.”

-

“I got the glue out of your jeans.”

“Thanks.”

Alex was already curled up in bed and rubbing his temples by the time Michael came into the bedroom. He was tired and hadn’t really talked to anyone since he argued with Liz. His skin felt too tight and he was irritable and he felt even worse when he realized Michael was feeding off his negativity. He’d been in a good mood before dinner.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as Michael quietly checked the closet and behind the curtains for him before shutting off the lights.

“You’re okay,” Michael said. Alex shut his eyes as the bed shifted and he waited for Michael to reach for attention like he usually did. Except he didn’t. “Hey, uh… Do you really think we won’t be able to bring Max back?”

Alex curled in on himself a little more. Right.

“I don’t know. I just want you all to be prepared.”

“Yeah.”

Micahel was quiet for a few minutes, long enough that Alex started thinking he was angry at him. Alex almost apologized a handful of times, longing to be forgiven for something he wasn’t actually sorry for. He just didn’t want to push him away, he didn’t want to be annoying, he didn’t want to be a problem. 

“Hey, Alex?” Michael said. Alex let out an unexpectedly heavy breath and he cursed himself for it. “Is there anything important you haven’t told me? Like, alien wise?”

Alex was instantly bombarded with documented torture he’d kept a secret, filmed dissections he’d hidden, videos of his mother trying to sweet talk guards that hit her or worse in response that he’d lied about, and that stupid piece of the ship that scared him more than anything. They were all stupid and small and out of Alex’s control in the grand scheme of things, but they were big and scary on their own. What if Michael stopped feeling safe? What if Michael left?

“No,” Alex said, “I’ve told you everything.”

Michael was silent again for a few seconds. Alex waited for him to call him out for being a liar, to call him out for being annoying and not the guy he actually loved. If Liz didn’t see him as himself, why should Michael?

Except then the mattress creaked as he shifted and slowly Michael’s arms encircled his torso. He exhaled in relief as Michael pressed up behind him, fitting against his form effortlessly. They fit together so well sometimes it hurt him. But he pressed his warm nose behind Alex’s ear and held him tight, using his body heat and willpower to shoo away all his bad feelings.

“You’re the strongest man I know, you know that, right?” Michael told him softly, “I trust you more than anyone in this entire galaxy.”

Alex didn’t know how to say he wasn’t worthy of that title. So he didn’t.

“It’s okay,” Michael added even softly, his voice hardly even making a sound at this point, “It’s okay to be sad. We all need a little help sometimes.” The words were Alex’s, but they fit in his mouth like they belonged there.

Alex’s body was flooded with emotion, that overwhelming feeling of everything coming for him and forcing tears to his eyes. None fell and he kept his eyes closed, but he knew more than ever that he loved him.

He loved him so much it hurt.

-

“Did you find anything?”

“Um, I think you should sit down.”

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows but did as Cam instructed and sat on her motel bed. He’d been spending a lot of time there the last few nights, usually after shifts so they could talk about theories. Right now, though, he was just drained from a very uncomfortable dinner.

“Did Flint tell you something?”

“No,” she said slowly, sitting beside him with a file in her hand. She kept it to her chest so he couldn’t see it until she wanted him too. “He was a dead-end and visiting hours with Jesse are over. He gets out of the hospital in a few days though, which you knew, and I plan to speak with him then. But I started thinking about it and I looked into something else.”

“And you found something?”

“Yeah,” Cam confirmed, eying him hesitantly, “I don’t think it’s three generations.”

“Oh?” Kyle said. Slowly, she pulled the file from her chest and held it in front of them, opening it to see the same tattoo on a brown-skinned hip. He grabbed onto the file.“Who is this?”

“Don’t freak out.”

He looked over to her in confusion. “Why would I freak out?”

“I was thinking about it and I was trying to think who was just as involved with aliens as Jesse Manes,” she said, “So I started searching through old military records and a lot of them had either pictures or descriptions of their tattoos, stuff to identify soldiers by if worse came to worst. We got lucky that the Valenti’s clearly have no problem with their bare ass being in a picture.”

Kyle’s eyes widened involuntarily as he realized what she was saying. And it definitely wasn’t generational. Instead, it was starting to look a lot more like a cult.

“So…”

“Yep,” she sighed, “Manes and Valenti. Two heads of Neptune’s trident.”

“Fuck.”

[ineffably-effable]

Honey Trapped (aziraphale/crowley crack!fic, 1.6k words)

Summary:

What happens when @racketghost​ makes a film reference that goes completely over my head, and I’m left pondering the question of how Crowley might come to believe himself a bee. 

Notes:

Unbeated. All mistakes are my own. 

(Link to ao3)

Slight warnings for some platonic, non-consensual cuddling from someone not currently in their right mind.

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

4 months after the narrowly averted armageddon.

2 weeks and 6 days after Aziraphale and Crowley moved into a charming cottage in The South Downs.

2 weeks, 5 days and 10 hours after a comical series of misunderstandings  left them both under the impression the other was only comfortable with platonic cohabitation.

Shortly before Elevenses.

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

Aziraphale was a creature of habit.

Every Sunday he made his way into town to pick up pastries to go with his morning tea. This particular morning was no exception. Shortly after breakfast he had left Crowley to his gardening and set off to visit the local bakery.

All in all, he’d been gone less than an hour.

Certainly, he thought to himself, not enough time to excuse (or explain) Crowley standing in their front yard - wings out for all the world to see - rubbing his face into a sunflower.

“Crowley?”

Aziraphale called out to him more out of habit than out of an expectation he would reply. Although unlikely, he supposed it might be possible Crowley was trying out some new unconventional method of gardening. 

That particular hope evaporated when the demon looked up and stared at him with an entranced expression on his face, sclera blown wide and orange pollen clinging to his skin.

“Are you- ah” Aziraphale took a few cautious steps forward, a little unnerved by the vacant stare, “Are you feeling well, dear?”.

Crowley tilted his head to the side, but otherwise only stared unblinkingly back at him.

As Aziraphale drew nearer, he noticed Crowley’s nose start twitching. The demon had flicked his tongue out and was alternating between sniffing and tasting the air. In a flurry of movement he spread his wings and beat them with such unnatural speed they emitted a low pitched buzzing sound. Before Aziraphale could react, Crowley flew straight at him. In a matter of seconds he had wrapped his arms around the angel’s shoulders and pulled him in close, effectively pinning Aziraphale’s arms to his sides as he pressed their bodies together. (Blessedly, Aziraphale managed to hang on to the pastries - but it was a close thing). The more the angel attempted to extract himself, the more Crowley tightened his grip. In fact, as if encouraged by the movement, he nuzzled Aziraphale’s neck and started lapping with his tongue all over Aziraphale’s face.  When Aziraphale flinched, Crowley took advantage of the angel’s shocked gasp to start licking directly into his mouth.

This act proved a bridge too far for Aziraphale. He recoiled, wrinkling his nose at the sickly sweet taste of pollen, and exerted a small amount of angelic strength to push Crowley away.

Unperturbed, the demon flew back across the yard, ostensibly in search of a new flower to harvest.

Well, thought Aziraphale. That was a thing. 

He watched as Crowley selected a new flower, favouring one large enough that he could start tonguing it enthusiastically.

"Hullo Mr. Fell." A familiar voice called out. Looking past Crowley, Aziraphale noticed a bemused adversary waving to him from the swing on their front porch, his diminutive hell hound on his lap.

"Adam!" Aziraphale greeted, faking a composure he didn’t feel as he miracled the pollen from his face and his disheveled clothing to its previous state.  "I don’t suppose you happen to know what's gotten into Crowley?"

Adam grinned.

“He bet me I couldn’t hypnotize him.”

Aziraphale resolved never to leave Crowley without supervision again.

“So now he believes himself to be a... bee?” Aziraphale guessed (taking into consideration of the demon’s recent affinity for flowers and buzzing).

“Yep.”

When no further information appeared forthcoming Aziraphale voiced the obvious question:

“Why?”

“Bees are great. Pepper’s mums keep a hive and- ” 

Recognizing a tangent when he heard one, Aziraphale nipped it in the bud.

“Sorry, dear boy, I meant why were you discussing hypnotism?”

“Brian’s Dad is trying to quit smoking and the doctor suggested hypnotherapy,” Adam said quickly, in a way that suggested this was not his first time telling this particular story, “but his Dad fell asleep during the session so Brian asked if I’d give it a shot. Pepper and Wensleydale thought I should see if Mr. Crowley could teach me how.” 

Aziraphale blinked.

“Adam,” he began, “Surely you realize it would be wrong to coerce someone?”

‘‘Yeah, but Brian’s dad wanted to try it.” he insisted, “We told him my godfather was a magician and he was going to teach me how.”

“You told him Crowley was a magician?” 

“He looks the part. ‘Just needs a spot of eyeliner, that one’ Mum said - ”

(Aziraphale possessed enough self-awareness that he recognized how ridiculous it was to be offended by that. He also recognized now was not the ideal time to engage in a conversation about how a spot of eyeliner did not a magician make.) 

“- so I popped over here to chat to Mr. Crowley and he said I probably wouldn’t be able to do it because it’s more of a snake demon trick than an occult trick.”

“I see.”

“That’s when I bet him that I could.” 

“Right.”

Crowley chose that moment to repeat his trek back over to Aziraphale who, now wise to what he was after, was able to narrowly avoid being pounced on before shooing him back off towards the flowers. Adam did a very poor job of hiding his amusement, but wisely kept his mouth shut as Aziraphale turned back to him.

“Do you have any idea why he seems quite so insistent on licking me?" 

Adam snorted and concealed it poorly with a cough.

"Well, Pep’s ma said the worker bees swarm around their queen? They sniff her out so they can feed and protect her.”

"Oh." 

Adam grinned but otherwise ignored him.

"He’s always around you, so seems reasonable he’d think you were important?"

A little distance away, Crowley hummed in displeasure as the flower he was nuzzling collapsed. Aziraphale performed a quick miracle to enlarge one of the nearby violets to keep him occupied.

"Is there any particular reason you haven’t restored him yet?" 

“Nah, just waiting for you to get back."

"Me?"

"Crowley suggested that I should wait for you if anything happened. I think he was worried about stinging me or something." Adam rolled his eyes. He stood up and walked down the steps, Dog at his heels. "You want me to do it now then?"

"Yes please."

"Sure."

Adam waved a hand and suddenly Crowley was coughing and spluttering, wiping his tongue clean on the inside of his shirt.

"What in the ever loving fuck?"

"Back with us, dear?" Azirpaphale asked sweetly.

"Angel what the sodding hell is going on? Everything smells like flowers-" he felt along his face, "- I'm sticky. Why am I sticky?"

Adam glanced sidelong at Aziraphale.

"Adam, what are you doing here?"

"Just visiting, thanks for the help Mr. Crowley!"

"Help with-?" Crowley’s face fell. “-don’t tell me you got it on your first try,” he growled.

Aziraphale feigned a sudden interest in his hands.

"Thanks for the chat Mr. Fell."

"Anytime dear, you're always welcome. Did you want a croissant before you go?"

Adam grabbed one from the proffered bag. He made a “cheers” gesture before biting into it and promptly vanishing (along with Dog).

"Angel?"

When Aziraphale turned Crowley was standing only a few paces away from him, looking stricken but considerably less orange.

"Yes dear?"

"Please tell me I didn't stick my tongue down your throat."

"Well, that's a little hyperbolic-" he began consolingly, "- I mean, even with your tongue the length it is, you could barely reach my tonsils."

When he finally looked up Crowley was starting at him in horror.

Stung, and not caring to conceal it, Aziraphale turned for the cottage. "Well, no harm done then. Let’s get you a cup of tea."

"I’m sorry angel, I’d have never done that if I was-”

"Never?" Aziraphale asked, somewhat sharper than intended.

Crowley blinked.

"Not on purpose!"

"That inspires confidence."

"Aziraphale." 

"No? Would you prefer coffee? The croissants are fresh, maybe some human food would do you good after all the pollen you’ve ingested-"

"Aziraphale." When he turned, Crowley was regarding him with a bemused look.

“Yes?’

"Was it any good?"

Aziraphale didn’t quite manage to avoid cringing. 

"It was rather like being licked in the mouth by an enthusiastic puppy,” he quipped. “Not much finesse I'm afraid.”

Crowley shook his head. He rubbed a hand over his face, and pulled slightly on his earlobe while not quite making eye-contact.

"Well apologies if my technique was subpar, there was the slight impediment of believing I was a bee." Crowley responded waspishly.

"Of course, dear." he gestured back towards the cottage, “Shall we?” 

"Seems like it's only fair I should get the opportunity to defend my honor." he offered a little too casually. 

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

"Consider it a professional courtesy. I'm the original tempter and you've impugned my abilities."

"Indeed," Aziraphale played along, pursing his lips to keep back a smile "In the face of such unassailable logic who am I to disagree?"

"Right." Crowley said. He walked up to Aziraphale, nodded, and tilted his head. "Right," he repeated.  Moving swiftly, he snaked an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and brought his hand up to cradle the angel's cheek as he leaned in.  The kiss was forceful but chaste.  When Crowley made to pull back Aziraphale darted forward and gently nipped his bottom lip. That, plus a completely unsubtle pout, soon had the demon kissing him back in earnest.

By the time they parted Crowley looked exceedingly pleased with himself.

"Well?"

"Overall?” Aziraphale smirked, “A considerable improvement."

"Excuse me."

"It’s only fair I deduct some points for the overwhelming taste of pollen."

"Angel?" 

"Yes dear?"

"Buzz off."