#Please go read the original fic! it’s very sweet and much more subtle than I was able to draw lol

[dingledraw]

A comic based on one of my fav fics: “The Gift” by entanglednow on AO3. Pages 1-5

Next

[agent-cupcake]

hello :D i hope you're having a nice week!! (and that the draft of this message that was unfinished because i accidentally closed the wrong tab didn't send because that would be embarrassing) BUT i just wanted to come here and say that i absolutely ADORE the way you write yuri. i had originally read a few of your dimitri fics and i loveddd those as well (he was my og fe3h boy) but then i read your yuri fics and. ARGAGRGAGARRG i can't explain it. i'm not great at articulating what exactly it is i find good about a piece of writing, but you capture him so well. the way you write has me on the edge of my seat every time, eagerly awaiting what will happen next. i really really love you capture the complex relationship between the reader and yuri so well in a relatively short timespan. i honestly can't pick a favourite between the agnus dei fics and asteria. they're both so amazing!!! and both make me go a little feral but that's beside the point rn normally i'm not a yandere enjoyer. there's just something about having another person that obsessed and controlling over me that kinda makes me go ☹️👎 but somehow you made it work with yuri. maybe it was because it felt way more subtle? idk. but i liked the sense of danger that he always carried throughout those fics, and it made the sweet moments with him much more impactful. the way you write both his cocky and flirtatious side and his other concerned, caring side is just. mwah <3 it felt sooo real and asteria.... god. what can i say i'm a simple girlie i love fashionable men that come to me in my dreams. the contrast between the dream scenes and the real life scenes was done so well, i'm sure other writers would find it hard to achieve the balance you found where it wasn't jarring at all. i loved the sense of shame that built up in the reader throughout the story, and the tension was just... beautiful. none of the readers in those fics matched my personality, but the writing was so good i honestly didn't care. i was still really engaged in all of them. i could probably say more but i've rambled on for more than i had originally liked to. you're an AMAZING writer, please don't stop what you're doing :) writing is an easy skill to pick up, but one that is very difficult to master, and it's always something to commend when people are as talented as you at it. i really hope you do write again for my favourite purple boy again one day. take care!!! :)

I know I'm a million years late but I am not good at keeping up with these things, forgive me

Thank you so much! I'm glad that you enjoy him so much, it's such a huge shame that the overall poor quality of the DLC reflected on Yuri because he had the potential to be every bit as fleshed out, complicated, and beloved as the main lords. Even if my only offering at his altar is smut and ravenous affection, it's a contribution well worth the effort.

Yandere is definitely a hard sell, in his case I think it really skirts the line... Obscenely unhealthy but Yuri has pretty well defined morals, I know I have to stretch a lot before writing him because of how much I'm reaching. I'm very glad it worked for you <3 The reader thing is another hard selling point, mostly because I write "self insert" in the same way modern games write their so-called "RPG's" so I definitely understand that a lot of people can't get into it, I guess my biggest goal would not be that people think "oh that's literally me" but just that people are able to buy into the reader as a way to enjoy the scenario. All of that said, I'm very grateful that you sent this, it means much more than I could say, you are a gem and a star

[gardenofshadcws]

Masterpost of My Fics

Please note: you must be logged in to A03 to read. I don't want A//I scraping my writing thnx.

fics under the cut

Lysandre/Augustine Sycamore (Perfectworldshipping)

Pokemon

i wanna take you into the sunlight - Lysandre struggles to deal with a crush and his own feelings of self-loathing. Augustine offers to be his wingman. Little does he know….

i'll follow you way down to your deepest low - Follow-up to i wanna take you into the sunlight. The morning after their first kiss, Lysandre and Augustine hash out some long buried feelings.

gone sovereign - Lysandre returns to his childhood home after the death of his parents and reflects on everything they put him through. The scared little boy burns, and the man who would save the world rises from the ashes, with a new conviction that one day, no one will ever have to suffer again.

another day in the life of the clueless and dramatic - Lysandre doesn't want anyone to know he and Augustine are seeing each other. Malva gives him a hard time about it, and Augustine hears things he probably shouldn't. How is Lysandre going to cover this up?

Fool in the Rain - A hostess at Lysandre Cafe with a crush on her employer watches one of Lysandre's and Sycamore's lunch dates. It hurts, but they're just too sweet together to be upset.

dress has always been my strongest suit - Lysandre criticizes Augustine's choice in outfit, but what's wrong with Crocs anyway?

on this day for you i'm gonna love you in every way - Written for a friend's birthday. It's not often sweet, optimistic Augustine has a rough day, but it happens to everyone. This one's so bad he forgets something important. Luckily, Lysandre is there to help make things better.

the only thing that's real to me is you - Lysandre has been working far too hard lately. Augustine enlists the help of his Pokémon to do something about that.

those bonfire lights in the mirror of sky - Lysandre wants to be the kind of person who gives. Augustine starts to realize that something is very wrong.

time still turns the pages of the book it's burned - Augustine and Lysandre talked every day. They still do.

into the abyss will i run - The end of the world is no place for a child. So Augustine confronts Lysandre instead.

we bury the sunlight - Team Flare won. The whole world has been wiped away, and a new world is about to be born. But Augustine was wiped away in the carnage and Lysandre's victory feels hollow. What to do...?

Jack Garland/Astos

Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin

Another Long Goodbye - Astos allows himself a moment of selfishness before Jack is extracted. Jack is happy to oblige.

If You Only Knew - Astos's feelings for Jack aren't as subtle as he thinks they are. Jed and Ash try to help move things along. Astos wishes they wouldn't but he might not have a choice.

When Hope Fades - In every cycle, in every eventuality, two things remain. One, Astos loves Jack. Two, he can never truly have him.

love from the other side of the apocalypse - Two thousand years is a long time to wait. But Jack and Astos don’t mind, now that they have each other at long, long last. Domestic fluffy nonsense. Because Astos deserves it.

i have died every day waiting for you - A short rewrite of the Jack - Astos reunion scene in Wanderer of the Rift. Jack isn't sure how to react to seeing Astos again after all this time. But he figures it out.

my heart is yours (so rip it out) - In a blinding thunderstorm, Jack and his team are forced to take shelter in the Western Keep. But there's more to their host than what he seems, and it's too much for Jack. Some mysterious power draws Jack to Astos, and though Jack tries to pull away he can't resist him.

i would break, i would burn, i would suffer - my heart is yours (so rip it out) from Astos' POV

Lea/Isa and Axel/Saïx

Kingdom Hearts

Brotherly Love - Lea needs advice, so he goes to the person he looks up to most. Completely self-indulgent nonsense based off my headcanon that Reno is Lea's older brother.

If She Doesn't Scare You, No Evil Thing Will - Not actually Akusai, but I don't have a better spot for it and it's kindastorta set in the same verse. It stands alone though. Did you ever wonder just how the 99 Dalmatian puppies ended up in boxes, scattered around the worlds? Well, it's all thanks to Traverse Town's favorite security guys-slash-enforcers, the Turks. They've got a job to do, but they might just be in over their heads. Also contains Cruella de Vil in a rocket ship. Crack fic based on my dumbest headcanon.

[thickenmyblood]

fics i think about every single day of my sad little life

Incision by Ccainao3

The Akielon loses the fight.

Sometimes I want to die and it’s because of this fic right here. No words.

Canis Major by Lapin

It starts because Aimeric is a pushy, arrogant, little bastard who has never learned when he needs to keep his mouth shut. His very presence at this party already irritates Laurent in the worst way.

Laurent is only trying to be a good friend to Jord. Damen was never supposed to be a factor.

Okay so this fic is not only VERY WELL written (as in, perfectly) but it also has all the best tropes EVER: pining Damen, fake dating, Auguste as an ALIVE older brother, NICAISE, Damen and Auguste are bros. Amazing dialogue, and the chemistry between Laurent and Damen is fucking BONKERS. And one more thing: THE SEX SCENE WAS SO HOT. IT WAS SCALDING MY EYEBALLS.

Nature by ahdriking

Laurent snorts, drinking in Damen’s horror like it is something to be savoured.

“I have done nothing,” he says, “but aided nature in its course.”

Pain, but the good kind.

before it all burned down by onekingdomonce

It was true that love was nothing like people explained it to you. Growing up, no one told you that you might find it in more than one place. You find your soulmate. Your one. No fairytales prepared you for the feeling of that sentiment being ripped down the middle, figuratively and literally. Laurent didn’t know how to live with it, so he just had to.

You know sometimes I wake up at, like, five am and I wonder how Nikandros is doing in this universe. This fic ruined my brain and we need to talk about it more often because it’s so fucking hard to get GOOD cheating fics and this one is NEXT LEVEL. This is subtle, but fucked up, but sweet, but sour, but Jesus Christ just READ IT. THE CHEATING IS SO GOOD IN THIS, GO ADULTERY! GO! AND THE WRITING JKBGKJBGK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The World's More Full Of Weeping by deripmaver

At thirteen, a boy named Laurent Devere had gone into the woods with his uncle.

What had come out was wrong. He was wrong.

He was not Laurent.

He was a changeling, and he needed to find a way to bring Laurent home.

Petition for derip to stop. This fic is a MASTERPIECE. This was so sad but sweet it sometimes had me CRYING my eyes out and that’s no easy task considering I have like three tears left. No spoilers but the final scene had me sobbing like a fucking child. It is SO GOOD. Best tropes ever too: trauma (lmao, am I calling trauma a trope? yes, this is derip’s fic), AUGUSTE AND LAURENT’S CRUMBLING BUT STILL THERE RELATIONSHIP, angst, the horrible realization that you will never be a child again and that there are parts of you that have died or been killed by life but also that does not do this justice. PLEASE READ THIS FIC.

No Plan by melancholicpie

Laurent and Damen are not bonded by the Red String of Fate. Laurent worries about it.

Loved this concept so much. This was originally posted in 2020 and has now been re uploaded so just take a chance and read it because it’s the best take on soulmates I’ve read in this fandom!

between them, sharp as a knife by Ccainao3

Damen tells Laurent his true identity at Ravenel.

It doesn't go well.

Good Boy by DreamDrop

Auguste wouldn't have suspected the turn his life took after his brother came back from France to live with him. Now he couldn't imagine ever going back to the way it was before. Especially not after meeting Nik. Not after experiencing the stunning sub looking up at him and calling him Daddy.

I KNOW. I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING.THIS PAIRING WORKS HERE. I SWEAR TO GOD IT DOES. Also the porn here is very, very, very hot. Very hot. I think about this at least ten times a month. 

Étude by xlydiadeetz

“The heart has a melody. Once you discover it, there’s no going back.”

Present day, Auguste is dead. The Golden Pianist is gone, and Laurent finds himself completely alone in the world. Haunted by the ghost of the promise he never accomplished, he goes through the stages of grief as he remembers his brother and deals with the return of a high school crush who makes him start to believe once again in the beauty of music.

No words, just pain. Most painful fic of my life. If you’re a Laurent lover this is a MUST READ. No skipping the classics. This is a fandom gem. This is like the Bible but for Capri fans.

Notorious by VeretianStarburst

“You genuinely don’t know who I am, do you?” Laurent asked, tilting his head back to look into Damen’s eyes.

“Should I?”

“I’m rather notorious around here. I have a feeling you’ll find out why soon enough.”

This is so good and the ending was so good and I want more. Mafia AU, baby!

Lose You by Ellies

“I’m pregnant,”

Damen paled as soon as those words left his mouth. Laurent felt vaguely sick himself.

“What?”

This is or the Incision fans. Hell yes, this fic is INSANELY good. It will keep you on the edge of your seat. It’s SO GOOD.

[this is me trying] by ace_assin9

Aimeric would like to say it wasn’t his fault. What happened. He’d like to, but he’s never been much of a liar. Not unless he’s already spitting mad. Lies don’t formulate themselves like prophecies demanding to be spoken, not like they seem to for the others. He blames the fact that he’s never had to lie. He’s only ever had to hide and hope his parents don’t find him when he fucks up. With five older siblings, it had never been particularly hard.

“Aimeric,” Jord said, haltingly. His shoulders were tense. “D’you think you should see a therapist?”

THIS FIC IS ONE OF THE BEST AIMERIC FICS OUT THERE AFTER CHERRY WINE. I LOVE THIS FIC SO MuCH SOMETIMES I WAKE UP GASPING BECAUSE I CANNOT BELIEVE IT EXISTS AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH PLEASE READ IT. PLEASE. GIVE AIMERIC A CHANCE I AM BEGGING YOU.

I Don't Smoke by rmayuscula

He loves Jord, loves him the most. But not enough to let himself be wrecked by him, to be kicked to the curb like a dog, like his parents did to him. To be used by him, like he has been before. He’ll stay here.

“I could wait too. You could come back.”

Everything Leo writes is cool (check out his latest fics btw, he’s DERANGED) bt this fic will always be special to me because it’s the only fic that made me like Jord as a character. YOU NEED TO READ THIS. GIVE AIMERIC A CHANCE. PLEASE. 

all alone by desastrista

Inspired by Green But For a Season. AU - Auguste never discovers Jord and so Jord never joins the Princes Guard. Instead, he finds work at Fortaine, where he is assigned to instruct Lord Guion's fourth son in swordfighting.

Amazing fic. If you’re looking for something that reads like canon and has this tragic feel to it, give this a try. PLEASE. You will NOT be disappointed. Amazing writing.

Works In Progress - Special Mentions:

(Not) Meant For You by Holly_Golightly

With the internet buzzing over Auguste and Damen’s latest fight and Auguste going off the rails a little bit, Laurent was fairly positive now was the worst possible time for him to accidentally send Damen a text meant for his ex. A text asking for sex.

Auguste was going to kill him.

This fic will be my death. I can’t seem to NOT think about it. Auguste in this is so amazingly fucked up. I love him so much. Lamen here are 10/10

All My Words by itallends

Over one quiet summer, Damen becomes enamoured with his son's boyfriend.

UGH my gem, my guilty pleasure, my love. I love this fic even though it leaves me feeling like a gutted fish. Damen is so fucking hot in this. PLEASE READ.

Concordia by Ccainao3

He’d had hope, after those talks, that when the sting of Olympic loss had faded he and Auguste would be able to salvage something of their old friendship. This doesn’t seem likely now. Sorry I gave you a concussion when I checked you is one thing; sorry I beat you out for the gold medal and then had your little brother wear it while I fucked him is another.

Is your fic rec a fic rec if Concordia isn’t in it? GHHHHHHHHGGBJKGJGJGJGJ I hate this author so much, she poisons my brain with her stupidly well written fics and they won’t leave my MIND. Seriously this fic is SO GOOD. Angry Auguste, Protective Damen, Asshole Laurent. ALSO... Erasmus and Damen in this... they’re my OTP even though they’re not together like that in this. 

Pop Stars by silentdescant

Laurent has been famous since he was a preteen, signed to his uncle's label, Regency Records. Damen and Nik front an indie band and signed with Regency for the opportunity to go on a world tour and open for Laurent.

NO WORDS. Groundbreaking. Wonderful. An ode to suffering.

The Firebird Suite by treeprince

Ancel knew the Regent preferred his pets blue-eyed and younger, but he was the best, so he wasn’t too worried that he couldn’t turn the highest head. If nothing else, he knew he’d make a lasting impression and land himself a contract either with someone much more suited to his tastes, or better.

After all, the only person looking out for him was himself, so there wouldn’t be any need to improve his circumstances with his current owner. There was no use in sticking his neck out for those who wouldn’t do the same for him.

WHY WON’T GOD LET ME HAVE GOOD THINGS. WHY. @treeprince just fucking update it’s KILLING ME. Best Berencel fic of 2020-2021-forever.

sanguinary poultice, love charm by Lapin

A different brother dies at Marlas, a king is crowned, and a new prince is born.

In a garden in Patras, Damen meets Laurent.

No, you do NOT understand. Laurent pretends to be a pet and Damen believes it and this fic is literally the most beautiful thing I read all year. You don’t UNDERSTAND. By the time you see this it’ll probably be completed but... Jesus Christ. The chapters are super long and juicy and beautiful. The scene transitions are SEAMLESS. The sex is so fucking good (Canis Major levels of good). PLEASE read this. The writing is so, so, so, so good. DAMEN IS SO OBLIVIOUS AND I LOVE KASTOR’S LITTLE SON. PLEASE, PLEASE READ THIS if you love love and pain and jokes and pining.

Sunblind by Folfar

The sun is in Auguste’s eyes when he dies. It is there when he wakes up, too.

Everyone has read this fic. We all agree it’s the best of the best. MOST ANTICIPATED AUGUSTE FIC EVER. Damen and Auguste bonding. Laurent... well, READ IT. 100000000/10

Wait, did you think I was done? Without mentioning my favorite fic of alll time? Surprise, bitch.

The Mannequin Gallery by marrieddorks

Laurent was still standing at the bookshelf, his fingers grazing the edge of one of the shelves near eye-level, seemingly scanning the array of titles like that was what he was here for. As he slowly walked, following the parallel lines of the shelves, the angle of him changed, allowing Damen to take in the neat way his sweater was tucked into his pants, the way the belt there accentuated the waist that Damen knew was underneath all those layers, the waist that was so slight in comparison with the build of his illusionary-worthy shoulders, the wisps of hair escaping the low ponytail his hair was pulled into, dancing around the elegant column of his neck like a nonexistent necklace, and the ridiculous length of his eyelashes as the, however briefly, rested on the apples of his cheeks for a blink.

“I, however, am not my uncle,” Laurent continued, his fingers hesitating over a well-used copy of 'Il barone rampante' by Italo Calvino. “Because of that, I will not make his mistake in my counter-offer to you.”

“Counter-offer?”

“Work for me instead,” Laurent said.

Best fic ever. IT HAS JUST BEEN UPDATED. PLEASE READ IT. Soon we’ll get fake dating and fake kisses that are actually real and I need you to PLEASE READ THIS. I am on my knees. Begging. Crying. Throwing up. Laurent is a model. Damen is an influencer. Together they escape from the Regent lol. Something like that... READ THE FIC.

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

WINTER WARMTH

__________________

Hi, everyone!! This is a part of the Citrus Dome Snowed In collab! I’m so thankful to be a part of this round and super grateful for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten and @tomurasprincess for letting me be on the masterlist! I’m so excited, but I’m not super proud of this one, so please feel free to give feedback.

Masterlist Here!

Go see everyone’s super awesome fics and art pieces they worked so hard on!!

ART BY @brttpaige on Twitter🖤 Go check out her artwork, she’s fantastic!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

The local news station hailed it as “the storm of the century,” and they weren’t wrong. You’ve watched the snow pile up beyond the window, building from a light dusting on the grass to literal knee-high drifts. And it shows no sign of stopping.

The place you’re stranded is stocked up on groceries, you’d charged every electronic device to your name, and you’d cranked the thermostat as high as it would go until the inevitable happens —

The power goes out.

So now you’re stuck indoors, with only a certain someone for company. The same someone you’ve been pining after for ages. Snow stacks up higher and higher outside. As the cold seeps in, and you both drift closer, you realize this was somehow the one thing you hadn’t thought to prepare for…

The snow outside was pretty at first, but now with the doors and windows to your small cottage-type home half covered, it seemed almost oppressive. With the power outage, there was no television to drown out the quiet, only deafening silence and the movement of your new roommate, Sero Hanta.

It didn’t start this way, you hadn’t always obsessively paid attention to his mannerisms. At one point in time, he was just a hero working for the same agency you provided medical care for. You were just support staff, until a dumb villain thought you were “important” and kidnapped you, leaving the heroes you saw as coworkers to rescue you. After that, the agency wanted you to live in the adjacent apartments, but you refused. Magically, two days later, Sero Hanta approached you asking about your spare room under the guise of his lease running out. You thought it seemed a bit suspicious, particularly that this gorgeous man had “nowhere else to go”, meaning no significant other to take him in. Of course, you agreed, being a nice person and maybe bit naïve. He moved his stuff in, didn’t make much of a fuss, and mostly left you to your own devices. That is, until you noticed some... abnormalities. The lingering glances, the newly installed security cameras, the not-so-subtle ideas to spend time with you of having meals together or watching movies, making sure you’d eaten or slept... He cared too much. He was so perfect- gorgeous, tall, easygoing, had similar goals as a rescue hero, funny, and he cared. He cared for you, which made living with him so much harder. You found yourself enjoying nights with him, wanting to sit a little closer, wanting to impress him with new dishes to make for dinner, ditching your ex’s sweatpants for cute sleep shorts, relishing in fantasies of his protective nature and dominating stature with your hand between your thighs... You thought you were going to choke when he started walking around in only gray sweats or a towel after his shower. You tried your best to keep eye contact, not stick around too long, not encroach upon his comfort in his own house. You failed to notice the smirk on his face when you quickly excused yourself or when you turned away too fast after being caught staring.

Sero had originally taken this as an assignment, although he did have a bit of a crush on you from the times you’d patched him up after rough shifts. He thought of himself as your own personal hero, but that mindset soon turned into more than just an assignment. He was protective over you, and he found himself getting defensive if you even mentioned another guy. He had tried flirting within reason, just making dinners and watching movies, but he got cocky when he had walked past your door one night and heard your little whimpers. He decided to test his theory, wearing his sweats lower than he normally would and walking back to his room in a towel, and delighting in strolling past your room to hear your muffled moans and the vibrations of the toy you never used to use. You were getting desperate, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t boost his ego to hear his name through the walls. This, however, was NOT something he’d planned on.

Everything was fine, being stuck in the house together was nice, until the power went out. The heat somewhat remained in the house until night, when you curled up on the couch under every blanket you had and he layered on an extra hoodie and lounged next to you. He looked cold...

“H-Hey... Sero? Um... You look cold. Do you want a blanket?”

“Hmmm, but then wouldn’t you be cold too?” He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well... Maybe... But that’s okay! You need to be warm too!!” God, you’re so sweet.

“I mean... You could always come over here, we can be warm together!” He stretches out his arm and beckons you over, inviting you to curl up next to him. You shift over, spreading the blankets over your roommate and hiding your blushing face under the pile of softness, keeping at least 3 inches of space between you before he rests his arm behind your head.

“Thanks, y/n, this is uh... nice!” He hides his disappointment at your perceived rejection, going back to look at his phone.

After 20 minutes of scrolling, you can’t take it anymore. He smells so good, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I’M GONNA GO TO BED NOW. Uh, goodnight!” You basically shouted, too loud to be natural. You abruptly stood up before slightly shrinking from the frigid air. When did it get so cold in here?

“Hey, it’s really cold... We don’t really have a ton of blankets, and I’m worried you’re going to freeze, so maybe we could sleep in my room tonight? Just for, ya know... body heat?” He sounds nervous, like he expects you to freak out and reject him completely.

“Well... I-I guess that’s smart... You’re right. So... Let’s go?” Holy fuck, you are so nervous. You were originally escaping to your room like you normally do, too horny to continue hanging out with Sero and retain your sanity, but now you’re sleeping with him?! What the fuck are you thinking?!

He gathered the blankets and lead you into his room, holding the door for you before plopping down your nest of fabric. You stand awkwardly in the center of the room, waiting for something you have no idea what. Sero unceremoniously strips himself of his hoodies and sweats and climbs into bed, seemingly out of habit, before turning his attention to you and holding the blankets open.

“Are you coming?” He smirks, putting on a confused voice that doesn’t quite match the mischief in his eyes.

“I-...” FUCK, he’s beautiful. Lean muscles flexing with every movement, shaggy hair falling over his face, and holy... The tight black boxers are NOT helping the whole “too turned on to function” situation.

“Oh... Sorry, I read somewhere that skin-to-skin contact is better for warmth. You’d probably know better than me, I guess.” He grins, as though this entire thing is nonchalant and completely normal. “I can help you if you’d like~”

“Uh nope, yeah, you’re right!! I’ll uh just... Can you close your eyes?” You are panicking. Every insecurity you’ve ever had is coming to bite you in the ass. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how much space your body takes up, remembering everything those stupid bitches in high school said about you.

“Y/n, you’ve seen me in that skin tight hero suit and you’ve patched up most of my body. It’s totally fine! PLUS, you’re sleeping in my bed, am I gonna have to close my eyes the whole night??” He jokes, not knowing that your shyness isn’t rooted in principle, but fear. Upon seeing your face, his smile falters and he autocorrects, “You know, I think you’re beautiful, but if you want me to turn around, I promise I will.”

“No, it’s-it’s fine. It’s okay. Wait- did you just call me beautiful?” You try to cover your shocked expression as you take off your sweater and slide off your fuzzy pajama pants. Sero is thankful your head is stuck in your sweater as his jaw practically drops. Oh fuck, he’s screwed. His eyes follow your curves from your chest, down your sides, to the pouch of your tummy and the plump fullness of your thighs... If he thought he was having trouble focusing before, there’s no way there’s gonna be enough blood in his brain when you’re half naked next to him... Speaking of... Shit, he’s hard... Okay, it’s fine, just tuck it in your waistband like you did back in school...

You climb into bed as quickly as you can, still keeping a few inches between you and Sero until he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You squeak in surprise and he chuckles, “You can’t be warm unless you’re over here! C’mere.” He nestles his face into your hair and splays a hand across the curve of your lower back. Feeling very naked and very nervous, you shift in his hold and snuggle closer to the heat he gives off, but halt your motions when you feel him twitch against your thigh. Neither of you are breathing, praying the other didn’t notice the rock hard length pressed between your bodies. Somehow, in the time you spent essentially playing dead, you both fell asleep cuddled together.

Over the course of the night, you had shifted to straddle your leg over his torso and he had turned on his back with his hand resting on the space between your thigh and your butt. Sero was the first to stir from his slumber when he felt you move against him, a small whine escaping your parted lips as your hips rolled against his. Oh... OH... Is y/n-? oh fuck y/n is dreaming... and grinding on me... fuck, this shouldn’t feel so good... He tries his hardest to go back to sleep, but the feeling of your sleeping body brushing up against his cock keeps him wide awake. He was trying to stay perfectly still until he heard your tiny whisper “Hanta~”... His hips involuntarily thrust, drawing out the most sinful moan from your throat as the head of his dick added friction on your clit that woke you up. You start to move away, embarrassed and hoping to check that he’s still asleep, but Sero’s grip tightens around your thigh and presses you harder onto him.

“Good morning to you, too~... If you needed my help getting off, you could’ve just asked, babygirl~” The lust and sleep clouding his voiced, combined with the steady roll of his hips makes you whimper and tuck your face into his neck.

“Awww so shy~ You were moaning my name earlier. Why don’t we see how loud I can make you, princess?” He speaks lowly as he flips you onto your back, hovering over you.

“I- I... Please.” You breathe wrapping your legs around his waist and stare up at him, wiggling your hips and sliding your hands up his biceps.

“Can I- Can I kiss you? Are you sure you want this? I’ve had feelings for you since before I moved in and I just... I never want to hurt you.” Cupping your cheek and searching your face for any hesitation, Sero starts succumbing to his own insecurities. He never wants to hurt you, and he knows he isn’t the flashy hero some of his friends seem to be... He needs to hear you say it.

“Sero... Yes~. I want you, please kiss me... I feel the same way. Please~...” Upon hearing your confession, Sero slotted his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet, gentle. Breathing each other in felt so right, so natural, and you followed his lead when he slid his hold to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. His hand drifted down, following the curve of your breasts, tracing your sides and resting on the pouch of your tummy. Just as you were starting to feel self conscious, Sero groans and moves to kiss your neck, mumbling “You’re so beautiful, y/n. Fuck, so perfect. You feel so soft, I need you so bad~” The whimper he draws from you when he sucks a deep mark into the column of your throat is absolutely lewd, you can barely believe it came from you. He kisses his way down your body, leaving hickies along your skin and squeezing every inch he can get his hands on. You look down at him, his eyes dark with lust and admiration as he leaves opened mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, making you more needy than you thought possible. He strokes his thumb along your clothed slit and moans at your wetness.

“Fuck- you’re so wet for me, angel. I want to taste you, you’re so cute like this. Let’s take these off, yeah?” He looks to you and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, asking for permission and grinning like an idiot when you lift your hips to help him. Before you can say anything, he’s prying your legs open and diving in, moaning as he laps your slit and sucks your clit into his mouth. You run your fingers through his hair and grip him, pulling him into you and grinding against his face. His groans send vibrations straight to your core, pinning your hips with one arm and sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt.

“M-more!! Oh god, please Sero, just like that- I want more!” You moan so prettily for him, but he wants something more. He releases your clit with a pop and leans up, stilling his fingers inside you and wrapping his free hand around your neck. The pressure and dominance has you clenching around his fingers, and he takes notice.

“You either call me Hanta or Papi, nothing else. You understand? I want you to say my name when you cum.” He commands, and sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh you like that, huh?~ I can feel you squeezing my fingers. Why don’t you tell me what you want, baby?~”

Your brain goes hazy when he leans in and places little love bites on your neck and collarbones. “PAPI~! Yes, I love it! Please fuck me, I want to feel you, I need moreee~” You pant as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you unbearably empty.

“Oh baby, I’ll fill you up, don’t worry. But first, why don’t you suck my cock?~” He strips himself of his boxers and flips the two of you, pulling you on top of him. He’s so long, just thick enough to stretch you and reach every amazing spot inside of you. The sight of his hard length has you drooling, anticipating feeling the weight of him on your tongue. You give the head a few kitten licks, relishing in the way he groans and twitches in your hand. He laces his fingers at the base of your head and lets you set your own pace, wrapping your plush lips around him. Bobbing your head up and down, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his dick and swirling it around the head- you love seeing his reactions. The way his breathing increases and his hips buck when you hollow your cheeks. He looks so pretty like this, you can’t help but rub your thighs together for some kind of friction. Luckily, he notices how desperate you’ve gotten and pulls you up to straddle him with one hand still on your hair and the other gripping your hip, calloused fingers digging in and massaging the fat there.

“As much as I want to cum in that perfect little mouth, I think my baby needs to be filled, yeah?” He fists his cock and strokes the head through your wetness, gathering your slick and making you involuntarily grind against him. “Beg for my cock, babygirl~, tell Papi what you want.” The smirk on his face is utterly sinful, teasing you and enjoying the fucked out expression on your beautiful face.

“PLEASE I want your cock, I wanna be full, just fuck me already!!! Please stop teasing me Hantaaa~” Just as you grind your hips down onto him, he thrusts into you, cutting off your pleading with a needy moan. “Ah~ fuck- so full, so full, oh my god! Yes Papi~!”

“Oh shit angel, fuck- you feel so good.” Hanta grabs your hips and helps you slowly fuck yourself on him, “Just like that, baby, just like that. Ride my fucking cock. Fuck- you’re so tight...”

The dirty talk pouring out of Hanta’s mouth, combined with the stretch of his hot length stirring up your insides, you find yourself embarrassingly close to climax already. Your first orgasm hits you like a train, completely knocking the air out of your lungs and causing you to collapse onto Hanta’s chest. He seizes the opportunity to flip the two of you, holding you underneath him and fucking you into the mattress.

“Ah ah ahhhhh~ Hantaaa~ I can’t! I can’t, I just came, it’s too much!!! oh FUCK Papi!!!” You feel the tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation and pleasure.

“Yes you can, babygirl. You’re taking me so well, you’re such a good girl. I know you love it, I can feel your pussy flutter around me. So honest, angel. You’re so perfect like this- fuck.” Hanta grips the back of your thighs and pushes your knees to the bed, hitting even deeper within you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust and makes you scream out, nails digging into his back, and egging him on.

“Come on, mi amor, cum with me. I know you can, I can tell you’re so fucking close... Cum on my cock, that’s right. Cum for me.” His long fingers reach down and rub quick circles on your clit. He leans in to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and your shoulder, sending you over the edge into your climax. Your vision goes white and you clamp down around him, cunt spasming as you squirt all over his thighs and abs.

“F-fuck!!! That’s so fucking hot~ I’m gonna- Ah~” He fills you to the brim with his sticky release, the warmth spreading through your core and coating your walls. Hanta releases your legs and lays on top of you, sweaty bodies pressed together until he comes down from his high.

“That was so amazing, angel. You were so good for me. Such a pretty baby, all mine...” He pulls back to kiss your temple and rolls over, petting your hair and lightly scratching your back.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me... I always want to be yours.” You giggle, bubbly at his claim on you and still buzzing from your high. You curl up into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. “Mine.”

“Mmhmm, all yours.” He breathes a chuckle and places a kiss to your hairline. “I’m glad I can warm you up, lovebug.” He smiles as your breathing evens out, falling asleep with you in his arms.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[idanit]

possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit 

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K  I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well. 

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time. 

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K  No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian. 

[alreadyblondenow]

When December comes | Hendery

✦ Hendery x reader x Lucas ✦ Fluff, Smut, Angst, Royalty AU, Nutcracker AU ✦ 3/5 for HOLIDAY SERIES: Once Upon A December

Summary: As an adopted legitimate princess and future queen of two kingdoms, you grew up proving yourself that you deserve the role that has given to you. Nothing is simple about being an adopted princess but being arranged to marry Prince Hendery turned your life upside down.He left you, eventually. And by the time he came back to your life, you have a loving boyfriend, and Prince Hendery…. is arranged to be married to your sister now.  

Word count: 8,690k

Warnings: adopted reader (if thats triggering at any point, please click away) A lot of smut, unprotected sex, mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of other idols, fingering, mentions of rough sex, heavy cheating, major character death

A/N: PURE FICTION. This is a love triangle fic but not much focused to Lucas, more on Hendery. Inspired by a bunch of royalty movies, especially princess diaries, Nutcracker (ballet), inspired by the song Satisfied from Hamilton. Love writing for Hendery so much. Check my recent post for Hendery’s thirst photos whahaha, as per Lucas character here idk I always see him as sweet and lovable and he always knows what to do. The guy has serious good leadership skills if you haven’t’ notice and i think its sexy. I’m glad this didnt reach to 10k bc u know me i hate my works being long af haha enjoy reading mwa!

For @jeongyoonohs​ sorry it took me so long to finish this :( But this is for you! 

OPENING

Once upon a time, in a kingdom not so far away, ruled by a king and queen who can’t have a baby no matter how many times they’ve tried. The sad news spread all over the kingdom and caused chaos everywhere mainly because they were scared for the fall of their beloved kingdom.

But the king is wise. He made an alliance with the kingdom of his truest friend and together they helped each other’s kingdom by making an agreement. “I can’t have a child, but my queen and I have decided to adopt a baby girl,” the king says to his fellow king.

“And my wife is carrying a baby boy”

“It’s settled then. My adopted daughter will be arranged with your son, and someday be married to each other” They shook hands and made the agreement official by sealing it with their signatures and royal seals in front of their queens.

The kingdom that lost their trust with their king is now calmed relieved after hearing the great news of the two kingdoms having an alliance. And to fully earned their trust again, they searched far and wide for a baby girl that will soon be the future of their kingdom.

“And that baby girl is you my darling” your grandfather finishes his bedtime story to you. Caging you in his strong arms, cradling you like you’re truly related by blood. “Grow up as a fine woman and save this kingdom” he added. You embraced your grandfather back and smiled so sweetly at him, tracing his handsome features… then you remembered.

“Tell me the story about the Nutcracker prince,” you singsong to him. He doesn’t tell you the original story, but instead, he always tells you his version and it’s always better. His embrace became tighter, then he looked at his expensive watch to check how many minutes does he have left.

“Okay. I only have a few minutes left, princess” He started by introducing the Nutcracker prince to you which is actually magical because even though you’ve heard of this so many times it never gets old and you’re always excited to hear it again.

He described the prince as a soldier like him, but a younger version he says with a giggle. And that Nutcracker slash prince slash soldier is made specifically for you so that one day, the two of you can rule two kingdoms all at once. “Why do I need a prince?” you pout, and your grandfather is startled by your question.

“Well, jeez, I don’t know. I’m sure you can still be a fine queen without a prince, right?” he says while tucking you in and preparing you for bed. “But let’s just say that princesses like you need a proper man like the Nutcracker because… grandfather will not always be by your side” of course he can’t mention death to you, no, you’re too young to know about these things. So he kissed you goodnight on your forehead and promise to see you early in the morning again.

Growing up as an adopted princess was never easy because the eyes of a judging kingdom have always been against you and your family. That’s why as you grow up, you swore to yourself that you will prove them wrong and that you are the future of this kingdom. At a very young age, you made your parents proud of your gift of leadership and continue to make them proud by doing great in school.

Until one day, the queen finally got pregnant.

The kingdom became so busy about the queen’s pregnancy and literally, every person is excited about your baby sister. You were only nine years old and you were innocent as you can be so you don’t know that the attention is slowly shifting to your baby sister. You didn’t mind of course, again, you were just a kid. But as you grew older and older you can finally foresee a life behind the shadow of your baby sister. The real princess. It’s like she took everything from you… but whenever you remember that you’re adopted, it seems like she’s just taking what’s originally hers in the first place.  

Today is your thirteenth birthday and you celebrated it with your grandfather in an amusement park. He is the only person left in your life who can see you as a rare gem and you’re thankful for him. As you walked around the busy park, with a few bodyguards on your sides, you and your grandfather laugh and laugh while you’re eating hotdogs on a stick.

“Your father told me that you refused to have a ball for your thirteenth birthday? Why?” he asked while enjoying his food.

“I’m not a real princess grandfather, I don’t deserve a ball. And besides, riding that scary rollercoaster is better than dancing with a bunch of princes whom I don’t know in the first place, and playing dress-up the whole night”

“Hmm. Don’t you say that you’re not a real princess, there was a Y/n before your baby sister. And the kingdom is still looking forward with you ruling us someday because you’re older than your sister and you’re still a legi-“

“timate daughter, I know, I understand grandfather thank you for reminding me” you wiped the ketchup on his lips and smiled at him, “What will I do without you? I hope that my Nutcracker prince is exactly like you. Wise and strong”

“Don’t worry about that darling, you’re still young, and I’m still here” he giggles and walks you towards that scary rollercoaster ride.

ACT 1

Things slowly change around the castle and you learned to distant yourself from your parents but not forgetting your duty as a first born and legitimate adopted daughter of the king and queen. And as you enter royal high school, you thought that your life will get uglier but no. Surprisingly, school made you feel alive and less of a princess and more like a future leader.

But most importantly, you finally met your Nutcracker. Prince Hendery.

Usually, prince and princesses meet for the first time during a royal ball, soiree, or a simple lunch at the palace’s garden grounds. But you and Prince Hendery, met in the school hallway for the first first time. It is as if your whole world slowed down, every student walked in slow motion while you and Hendery locked eyes on each other. And the best part is, he did not know that you’re the princess who’s meant to be forever with him.

At first, you don’t talk to each other and just simply exchange smiles and glances from time to time whenever you cross paths in the hallway, eating at the cafeteria, or ‘reading’ at the library. You thought it wasn’t fair that you know everything about him but he doesn’t even know what you look like.

“You know I’ve been flirting with this princess for months already, do you know her name?” Hendery whispers at his fellow prince, Xiaojun, and told him to take a look at where you’re seated. Xiaojun then scoffed at his friend and playfully slapped Hendery’s face knowing that he is completely clueless about who you are.

“I don’t know if you’re always going to be this dumb, you’re going to be a king someday. Anyway, that princess is Y/n. The Y/n” and that is all it takes to make Hendery realize that he has been flirting with his soulmate for weeks now.

From there on the prince has become bold with his gestures. Sitting with you during breaks, even flirting with you in front of your friends and his friends. Prince Hendery has the most beautiful smile you have ever seen, hair is black and soft and you bet it smells good either, he was tall but just right for your height. Not only he was perfectly handsome, but he is a gentleman too. In other words, everything about him screams prince charming.  

You and prince Hendery were the talk of royal school. Everyone knew about your arrangement and the alliance of your kingdoms. You even hear people talk on the hallways that you’re literally made for each other that’s why everyone envied you.

“Let’s grow up first, okay?” Hendery says, giving you a single rose during your school’s Valentine event. A simple gesture that says there's no need to rush on being in a relationship and make everything official between the two of you but also, it was a subtle move to show everyone that you already belong to each other so there should be no competition.

You fell in love with each other from a distance, not rushing through love, taking your time, and enjoying your youth because you have a lifetime together. Although, Hendery likes reminding everyone that you’re his in the most subtle way, may it be hugging you in public, kissing your cheek before you go home, and smiling your way whenever he sees you around the school.

From freshman year until your senior year, you and Hendery waited until you’re both legal of age to finally make it official. The news was all over the TV, tabloids, articles, and magazines that you’re in love with each other. It was a cute high school sweethearts story and every day was perfect.

Senior year just started and you and Hendery decided to study together but the planned study session became a make out session, giggling and cuddling in his bed while still wearing your uniforms. The prince was looking at you, admiring your pretty face touching your features softly then suddenly he noticed that he can almost see your breast. He looked away, of course. And covered his head with one of his pillows as he groans in frustration.

“What? Why?” you asked, completely clueless. He didn’t answer you, instead, he covers your exposed skin with a small pillow. “Oh shit, I’m sorry” you apologized immediately and became shy like him too.

“It’s okay. If I’m being honest I wanted to touch you but, I knew better than that. Can we promise to be each other’s first and last?”

“You mean sex?”

“Exactly, sex”

“Only if we seal it with a kiss,” you bite back in a flirty tone, looking at his pink lips that are slowly coming closer to you. When your lips touched, you returned the kiss and swing your arms around his neck, situating him accidentally in between your legs. Skirt lifted and all. Your bodies are becoming warm in an instant and you both know you need to stop before you make wrong decisions.

“How's that for a promise? Let’s get married when we grow older and have sex every day” he bit the shell of your ear, making you giggle and laugh with him. Being this horny with each other is normal, you thought. You are both young and full of passion, and it amazes you how Hendery wanted to wait until you get married and be kings and queens.

Senior year is perfect. Every day.

Until one day, Hendery’s father died and he stopped coming to school. You hear different kinds of gossip every day. 'Is he a king now? That's why he's not coming to school?', 'School is boring for king Hendery now', 'Are they gonna be married soon?', 'Are they even ready to rule yet?'. Again, you were the talk of the nation. The headline ‘Prince Hendery left Princess Y/n’ was everywhere and you can't do anything about it. You weren’t hurt that he left everything, you were more worried because maybe he’s all alone and grieving. You wanted to ask his family but you respect their privacy.

“So he just left?” you told your grandfather everything. He just came back from his cruise around the world and you’re happy to see his visible tan lines, for sure he had a great time.

“Yep, just like that grandfather,” you walk shoulder to shoulder around the palace’s garden, looking at the flowers and harvesting some fruits.

“Well, I’m sure he had his reasons. Just stretch your patience my darling, you know what they say, love is patience” he pats your hand before picking a lemon. “Enough about the prince, I heard you are making quite an impression now. The king is beyond impressed” he was talking about your win, elected student body president. Apparently, it’s a big deal for your father, because, during his stay in royal school, he was elected as president too.

“I didn’t try too much, I think I won because of my popularity and not because of my leadership skills” you once again doubted yourself but of course, your grandfather is here to straighten you up.

“Show them you’re both. Popular and a great leader”

It was always a good talk with your grandfather, but whenever you remember that Hendery is not with you anymore it automatically makes you sad. You missed him. So much.  

ACT 2

But even though you missed Hendery and it’s like he took a part of your heart and brought it with him, life goes on. You faced Senior year and showed everyone your perfect smiles like nothing is bothering you. But at night, when you’re all alone, you just can’t help but look at your pictures with Hendery on your phone and miss him.

Life goes on.

With or without your prince.

You studied day and night, kept your eyes on the prize, and busy yourself until your heart is finally healed. You waited for him of course, you waited long and hard but you can’t wait forever.

As you continue to know yourself, get involved with a lot of organizations in college, your journey has become even more thrilling when you met Lucas. He’s not royalty nor does he came from a rich family, he’s “just a man who’s brave enough to ask a princess on a date” his exact words.

Lucas is a whole new adventure to you. He’s the epitome of new things and new experiences. But your favorite thing about Lucas is, he can make you forget that you’re a princess even just for a few hours. He made you happy every day because he never forgets to tell you that being happy is the most important thing in this world. He loves you with every part of his being. And he’s ready to face your world and be with you in every step until you become queen.

“N-no I don’t want to be king. I can be your butler and still love you for all I care” he covers your naked body while you both come down from your highs. Tonight is one of those nights that you can be with Lucas without having your bodyguard. He was praising you during sex, calling you ‘princess’ or ‘my queen’ whenever he thrust and pushes you on the edge, so you asked him a stupid question if he wants to be king. “I just want to be with you, people may see me as a gold digger once the news that you have a commoner boyfriend comes out, but we both know that’s not true right?”

“Of course, not” you embraced him and apologized for the question, hiding your face on his chest. You feel his big hands caress your back to comfort you and soon plant kisses on your temple. He’s always sweet and gentle like this. If only people would see the kind of person Lucas truly is.

“But what if he comes back? What will happen to us?” he was talking about Hendery. When Lucas knew that you’re arranged to be married to Hendery, he didn’t take it lightly. He was mad but not to you. You didn’t talk for weeks and you’re both heartbroken, but Lucas realized that it's better to love you fiercely now than waste his time worrying about the future.

“I will talk to my father, don’t worry about that. Wong Yukhei don’t you trust me?” you kissed his chest to put him back in the mood and change the subject. Of course, he can’t say no to you.  

After getting your degree in college, you started working for the king and queen, spearheading foundations, and knowing the kingdoms that you’re going to rule someday. Remember when you thought your parents will forget about your existence because they had your sister? Well, that didn’t happen. Your parents were proud of everything you’ve achieved and they wanted your sister to follow in your footsteps.

Slowly, you proved to them that you don’t need a king to rule this kingdom. Introducing Lucas to your parents did not go well at first but eventually, they saw that you and Lucas are happy with each other despite having different worlds.

Still, they want to keep your relationship hidden.

It’s Christmas Eve and you’re all dressed up right now, ready to shake a lot of hands and dance with a bunch of princes and dukes and god know what else but you can’t help but take care of a few things before you enjoy this night. You were signing some last minutes contracts and reading proposals when you heard a soft knock from your door, “S-sorry. Come in” you see your boyfriend dressed up in a tux, looking so handsome. He smiled at you before he enters and closed the door behind him, “well you look dashing” you put your pen down and crossed your arms.

“I’m here to pick you up your majesty, the guests are waiting downstairs and your grandfather-“

“Oh he’s here! Perfect!” you exclaimed and express your excitement upon hearing that your grandfather is here. You haven’t seen him for a very long time and you have lots of stories to tell him. “Oh shit- by the way. Lucas, uhm… Can you zip my dress, I forgot I unzip it because it was uncomfortable. Stupid ball gowns” you said, turning your back to Lucas and waiting for him to take care of your zipper. But before he zips you up, he kisses your exposed shoulders and massaged them.

“Don’t forget to have fun tonight okay? I’ll be watching you like a hawk the whole night- well actually, not you. The men that will dance with you tonight” Because Lucas has no rank or title, he can’t earn a dance with you because it’s against the conditions that your father gave.

“All done your majesty,” he says and stepped back to open the door for you.

Every Christmas Eve, throwing an extravagant ball has been your family’s tradition for centuries. It is known by royalties across the globe and this fancy Christmas party is actually part of your kingdom’s history. Different respective kings, beautiful queens, annoying princes and princesses, dukes and duchess are invited and all are here not only to have fun but also here to talk business with you.

The night goes on, dancing with a few guests before you meet and spend some time with your grandfather. You wanted to whine and complain to your assistant but she’s just doing her job so you shrugged it off. “How many more left?” you asked while waiting for the next Prince to ask to dance, “two more your majesty. Your grandfather is next after this” you smiled and thanked her, giving a bow to the next prince who’s about to dance with you. And the moment you lift your head to meet his eyes, you thought you were dreaming.

For a moment you forgot proper princess etiquette and gave Hendery a tight hug, shocking everyone at your behavior but they’re even more shocked about Hendery’s appearance. ‘The son of the dead king has finally shown himself’ you hear everyone murmur around you but you don’t care. You smiled so big seeing that handsome face again. He kissed your hand and asked you to dance which you accepted gladly, now that Hendery is back and you’re all dressed up wearing your tiara, you feel like a real princess finally meeting his prince in a storybook.

“Where have you been?” you whispered to him.

“I’m sorry I left you like that, I was devastated” he whispers back as you two dance in the middle of the ballroom with the other royalties, trying so hard to hide the excitement. While you were dancing with Hendery, you remember that handsome smile that made your knees weak, his sweet gestures to prove his feelings for you, and your promises to each other.

Is it really true that first love never dies or your love for Hendery was just too strong that it never died?

When Hendery was about to hand you over to your grandfather, your father and mother came out of nowhere with your younger sister on their side. Is it because they’re happy to see Hendery too? Or are they going to press you regarding the arranged marriage again? You cling to your grandfather as you get nervous but careful not to show it. “Ah! Hendery welcome back! How was your time in the army, good?” your father exclaims. So all this time he knew where Hendery is.

“I had a hard time your highness, but I made it back in one piece” Hendery answered and made a small joke that made you all giggle and let out a small laugh. Oh you missed him.

“Hendery, I want you to meet Y/n’s younger sister” you watch him kiss your sister’s hand, “and also your future bride to be”

You were completely taken aback by what you just heard and the words that came into your head were, ‘I thought you were mine’ but you didn’t speak your mind and listened further to what your father is saying. But as you listen more, you feel like your dress was becoming tighter and tighter in every second that you can’t breathe anymore. “She will be your queen in your kingdom, and Y/n will be an independent queen here” your father explained proudly.

“But she’s too young” you pointed at your sister but you see how your sister’s eyes are sparkling. Too late. You thought. You watch her be charmed by Hendery’s visuals, that damn smile captured your sister’s heart in an instant.

“Hendery can wait until his bride is in the right age to be married, right son?”

“Of course your highness, it’s my duty” he answered confidently.

After the unexpected talk, you excused yourself, went to your room, and breathed outside on your balcony. You can’t forget your sister’s face as she looks at the man you used to kiss and you used to love. She has no idea what controversy she will face in the future, she is so young and blinded by infatuation…Or maybe you’re being like this because you’re jealous.

“Believe me I’m just as shock as you are”

A familiar voice made your heart race and your body stiffen in no time. You turned around secretly hoped that you’re wrong, but you will never forget his voice and also how his mere presence makes your heart excited. “How did you get in here?”

You hear him scoff and stood behind you, “We used to make out a lot in your room-and mine too of course. I still remember the way to your room by heart” he looked up the stars to stop himself from looking at you. You looked so beautiful tonight that he can’t stop blushing and admiring you.

You were silent. Mainly because you don’t know what to say and you’re not sure what to feel either.

“It’s going to be fine” with all his courage he tried hugging you like how he used to when you were only teenagers. But you pushed him away and stepped away from him. Hendery felt a slight pang in his heart, he never thought that you could do that to him.

“Were not together now don’t you get it? You were gone for years Hendery, a lot has changed”

“You’re hurting me, this is not our fault we love each other what's wrong with that” he reasons out, trying to lower his voice because someone might hear him.

“Loved. Past tense. My sister likes you and you are arranged to be married to her Hendery” you close your eyes as you remember what happened again earlier.  

“If I have known that life will take you away from me, I shouldn’t have wasted my time and showered you with love and affection when we were young”

With a heavy heart, your first love left you in the cold night with a confused mind.

ACT 3

To make it up with your grandfather, you spend Christmas morning with him while drinking tea by the palace garden and telling him numerous stories about Lucas…and also your talk about Hendery last night.

“Don’t do something stupid that your future self with regret” he says, stirring his coffee and chewing his bread with jam. He was talking about cheating, he didn’t tell you exactly but you get it. “Did you tell your boyfriend already about what you felt upon hearing your sister’s engagement?” You shook your head and see your grandfather get disappointed but he understands that everything that’s happening now is not easy for you.

“He’s away, for now, left first thing in the morning to go to Hong Kong for his family” you felt hopeless again.

“Oh everything will be fine. I’m sure he will understand, that man is wise. I’m rooting for him” he says like Lucas is his son.

“What- really not Hendery?” you let out a laugh because your grandfather is cute.

“Nope. Now, don’t ask me why. Figure it out yourself” he winks and continues to eat his breakfast.

As days go by without Lucas, you and Hendery continue to meet each other accidentally whenever he visits your sister. You’re a busy woman, but your mind seems to have time to think whether they kissed already, hold hands, or admitted their feelings to each other if there's any.

You saw flowers on your way to your office and you thought that maybe it's for your sister, from Hendery and you can’t help but to get envious and jealous. He used to give you flowers back when you were in high school and now… he’s doing it to your sister too.

While you were reviewing proposals, you got a phone call from your personal phone and it's Lucas which you’re very excited to answer. “Hey” you singsong, putting the phone between your ear and neck while you continue to scan through papers.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, everything okay back there?”

No. You wanted to tell him that you’ve been having these weird feelings towards Hendery. “No, baby. Everything’s fine, I’m working now… As usual- how's everyone there?”

“They miss you. They wanted you to visit next year” he says, breathing deeply before he continues. “Listen, I want to stay here for a little longer. I miss them too you know-“

“And it’s fine! Baby, I understand. You’ve done so much for me already, go and be with your family” you felt guilty for caging Lucas in your country. Even though he’s the one who wanted to stay here, still. You can feel that he’s homesick sometimes.

After working in your office, you went straight to your room and purposely skipped dinner because you knew that Hendery is still here. When you opened your door, the same flowers that you thought Hendery gave to your sister is sitting on your coffee table with a small envelope that has your name on it.

Dear Y/n,

Back when we were in high school, I gave you a single rose for Valentine's day and I told you, “Let’s grow up first”

Now that we're all grown up, and still obviously madly in love with each other, I will not hold myself back from loving you. Not anymore.

I’m sorry for leaving, please give me a chance and meet me at the back of the palace at midnight. I’ll be waiting.

H.

Bold of him to think that you’re still madly in love with him. How can he say that?

You look at the letter as you grow weak and let yourself flop on your couch, face first and still undecided if you’re going. Frustrated and guilty, that’s what you’re feeling ring now. Frustrated because you don’t know what to follow, your heart or your mind. Guilty because your heart says you should go.

At the end of the day, you find yourself walking in the dark on your way to the back of the castle to meet Hendery. Hugging yourself as you cling more in your thin cardigan, trying to keep yourself warm as you feel your heartbeat faster by every second you come closer to the meeting spot. You see Hendery at the back of a thick tree, face illuminated because of his phone screen. “Oh you’re here. Sorry I was about to ring your phone” he admitted.

“Why am I here? What do you want?” You asked in the softest way possible. He saw that you’re shivering and invited you to go around the tree. There you see a blanket and small pillows and the lake was perfectly lit by the moon. What a beautiful view. And while you were admiring the view, you feel him place his jacket around you and motions you to sit on the ground with him.

“Please for once let’s pretend I didn’t leave you. I didn’t want my father to die, I didn’t expect our kingdom to suffer. And you’re the only good thing that’s left to me. So please”

You looked at him for a second that soon turned into minutes. You bit your lower lip and you remember that you weren’t mad at him for leaving, so why are you mad at him now?

Slowly, you accepted the warmth that he offered and sat close to him, sharing the blanket and keeping you close. “You’re here to hear me apologize sincerely” he gulps before he starts talking and explaining why he left, looking into your eyes so you know he’s telling you the truth. He told you that his father’s last will is for him to join the army and to be a soldier because in his father’s eyes he’s not yet ready to be a young king so he didn’t have a choice but to leave.

You were heartbroken while hearing his part. “I was never mad at you for leaving. I was worried about you”

He smiled sweetly at you. The kind of smile that makes your body warm and heart flutter, he pulled you close and you let him. “I know. Mother told me you were looking for me, but she can’t tell you anything. I told her I’m the one who should tell you someday. I’m sorry” he embraced you tightly, his cheeks resting on your shoulders. And right then and there everything is clear to you. You still have feelings for him.

“What are we gonna do now? My sister, Lucas” you asked him as you rake away strands of hair from his face.

“I’m not in love with your sister” he admitted without hesitation.

“But I love Lucas” there’s that guilty feeling again. You feel your heart breaking for Lucas, he doesn’t deserve being cheated on like this.

“I thought you were mine” he whispers. And even if it's a whisper the hurt was obvious from the sound of his voice. He didn’t see it coming. He didn’t think that this will be more complicated than he imagined.

“Funny. I thought the same thing when my father told us you're enggaged to my sister” you admitted and scoffed.

“Give me a chance to win you back. And if you're not coming back to me, just let me be with you for a little longer. I beg you”

There was a moment of silence and Hendery understands that you needed that silence to think, “Okay” you said. And saying ‘okay’ never felt so wrong. You cupped his face and tried to turn this moment around, “what's it like to be away from home?”

“Sad. I think of you every day and of course my family but they get to see me but you... not even a picture just our memories in my head”

Now that Hendery is a prince slash soldier, you remember the Nutcracker story your grandfather used to tell you for bedtime. That’s when you realized that you and Hendery are truly made for each other.

But you have Lucas...

As your night with Hendery continues and makes up for lost time, the emotional reunion turned to giggles and laughs when your time together has ended. He invited you over to his own house for a date since he can’t take you out like he used to, and reminded you that you gave him a chance to win you back, and thanked you.

On the next day, your mind was blanked. You can’t believe that you’re cheating on Lucas and have been refusing to answer his calls.

Days went on like this until you’re not awkward with Hendery anymore and you’re comfortable again around him. He showered you with love, you accept it wholeheartedly. Every day was sweet with Hendery even though you’re both aware of the future consequences but no one seems to care for now.

You go to his place and spend time with each other, whether talking the whole night and telling each other stories, him making you giggle and laugh with your legs on top of his thighs while you both sit on his couch enjoying a glass of wine or whenever you’re busy reading something or you brought a little work at his place and he can easily take your stress away by making you laugh.

Today, you came early and decided to cook for him and have dinner together. You don’t know but Hendery is leaning on the door frame of his kitchen with a flower in his hand, watching you chop some peppers in his kitchen. He felt like he finally won you back. Just seeing you hum while you prepare dinner makes his heart so happy. He then walked slowly and hugged you from behind, resting chin at the top of your shoulders, and showed you the flowers he has for you.

You smiled so big, dropping the knife on the chopping board and turning around to give him a kiss.

That’s your first kiss again.

He was shocked but you did it again. You realized he was trying so hard that he’s slowly being successful in winning you back and you’re actually scared of the future but he makes you happy.

“What? It’s not like we haven’t kissed before” you touched his lips and felt his embrace tightens every second. “Dinner in 30 minutes” you smiled and went back to finish chopping the peppers and finding a nice vase for the flowers he gave.

After dinner, a few glasses of wine, cheese, and grapes, you and Hendery are buzzed and talking about work as prince and princesses while enjoying the view from his couch. The lights are turned down low and you didn’t even notice at first but the mood has been making you horny even though your topic was stressful and your minds are clouded with alcohol. You don’t know what came into your head but you sat on his lap with lidded eyes, touching his body feeling his hard rocked abs through his white dress shirt.

He giggles and laughed at you. He’s so fucking handsome when he does that. “Seriously you have to stop you will embarrass yourself in the next morning,” he told you to stop but he fixed the way he sits and made sure you were comfortable on top of him. He teased you more, smiling so handsomely and making your heart flutter.

“I'm not that drunk just buzzed. Want me to prove it?” You challenged with a flirty tone that turns him on.

“Mhmm. Okay,” he tilts his head and waited for this proof you were saying.

“I still remember how we sealed our promises with a kiss. Like that day when we promised to be each other’s first and last” your fingers went up to his hair, ruffling his soft black hair and massaging his scalp.

You don’t know what happened but the mood changes and he’s avoiding your eyes. ”I’m sorry,” he says.

“No no don’t be, you’re here now make it up to me” you kissed his neck while he gets drunk even more because of your kisses. Your hands are placed on his neck like you’re telling him you still belong to each other, rolling your hips slowly to make him horny as much as you are.

“Did you have sex with anyone already?” his question made you stop what you’re doing to him and pulling away from the kiss to look at him, you thought he didn’t like what’s happening. But to your surprise his lips went to your neck, kissing you softly but full of lust. You feel his warm tongue just below your jaw and it felt great.

“Lucas, how about you?” You moaned out, shamefully.

Usually, his heart will hurt whenever you mention Lucas, but he’s the one kissing you now. So instead of getting hurt, he smirked. “A couple of girls. Life can be stressful I need an adult stress release. Any kinks?”

“Not that I know of? You?”

He stopped and looked at you to tell you the story. “Well remember when we were making out and I accidentally saw your breasts?” you nod at him, “I think I developed some kind of breast kink and I always imagine that I’m having sex with you instead of a stranger” he admitted and looked at you clothed breast right now. “That's how much I miss you” he placed a gentle kiss on your lips and went back to leaning comfortably on the couch. He got shy but he can’t stop looking at you.

To be honest your heart swells knowing that he desperately wants you like that. As quickly as you can, you untuck your blouse and removed it in front of the prince. “You can experience the real thing tonight “ you intertwine your hand with his and slowly placed it on your breast.

Breathing heavily. Both of you. You’re like teenagers who are just about to have sex for the first time.

He sat up to meet your lips and kiss you the way you deserved to be kissed, slowly you feel his hand travel to your back to unclasp your bra. You removed and fed his lust, revealing your breast to him for the first time. Hendery was so nervous that his hands are shaking when he removed strands of hair away from your face and held you on your shoulders, slowly he lowered your body on his and started kissing your collar bones and chest before he proceeds to your breast.

It was quiet and all he can hear is your moans and the sound of his wet kisses. You wanted to tell him that his lips feel great against your skin, and simply tell him to fuck you already. When his mouth finally reached your hard nipples and bit them softly, you parted your lips and your arms swings around him and push his head to your breast even more. You noticed he knows how to use his tongue, you figured he has been doing this to someone else for years and years while the whole truth is he always wanted to do it to you. The way he flicked his tongue brings you back to reality and when he sucks your nipples good your grip on his hair tightens and when that happens he bites your nipples again to make you shiver. This man is good.  

He placed his hands just below your boob area to hold you still while he does whatever he wants to your breast. Sucking, pinching, bitting, and kneading. Everything felt good and your moans are good proof. With his strength, he got up from the couch and carried you to his room while you kiss with lust. He lay you down on his king-sized bed and kissed your body down while unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down until you’re only wearing your panties. Hendery then unbuttoned his dress shirt in between your spread legs, kneeling in front of you, stripping until he’s only wearing his boxers briefs. He situates his body on top of you grinding on your clothed private parts, hands all over each other’s body. He then went back to kissing your nipples and sucking them but little did you know Hendery is just distracting you while his hands are slowly coming down inside your panties.

With a great shock, you closed your eyes and parted your lips as you feel Hendery’s cold fingers slide up and down on your wet slit while his mouth is still sucking your nipples. It was a whirlwind of feelings, everything felt good, and seeing Hendery enjoy turns you on too. By the time you had your first orgasm, shaking and body so sensitive with swollen nipples, Hendery was kissing you softly and asking you in the most innocent way if you’re okay. The sound of his giggles makes you calm, the way he whispers soft praises beside your ear while his hands roam freely around your body. Truth is he’s genuinely happy right at this moment because he doesn’t need to imagine anymore.

He went back to kissing your body down until he reaches your wet core and licks it up and down for a while before he lines his cock. In between your widely spread legs, you watch Hendery lick you good and feel him moan from time to time. “Hendery” you called him, kneeling in between your legs in an instant, flashing his beautiful body to you. His skin is flawless, strong arms, perfect abs, and of course, fucking beautiful smile. Everything about him makes you weak right now that you just opened your legs, reach for hard cock, and line it to your entrance yourself. “Woah” he giggled and stopped you, “Okay calm down, I’ll fuck you good I promise” he pumped his cock in front of you and lines it immediately just how you want it and slowly enters you. He wasn’t big like Lucas but he kept his promise, he fucked you good.

So good that you asked for more as you grip his Egyptian cotton sheets and let your body be dragged with every hard thrust he give you.

So good that you asked him to go slower because you don’t want it to end yet.

So good that you asked him to cum inside you and asked for another round.

On your third orgasm, your hole is dripping with mixes of your cum and Hendery’s while the handsome prince is kissing your neck as you come down from your high. “I love you” he whispers but he was too late, you were sleeping soundly already, arms wrapped around his neck. He smiled and kissed you one last time before he pulls out and cleans you up.

He didn’t sleep that night, he just watched you sleep beside him. Let you cling to him in the middle of the night, watch you roll in his bed and expose your body, but of course, he’s quick to cover you again. And when the time comes, he wakes you with kisses on your shoulders, embracing you tightly and kissing you more.

“Wake up” you hear him whisper and you try to open your eyes the moment he told you so. You see his window, it was still dark so you closed your eyes again. “Want to watch the sunrise with me? You’re going to love it” he went down from his bed and opened his curtains so you can have a full view of the sky while you enjoy your comfort in his bed. You sat up and waited for him to join you again and stay warm together. Slowly, you see how the sky became pitch black to deep blue to light blue until you can see the pretty view outside his house. It was calming. He was holding your hand the whole time.

After watching the sunrise with him he fell asleep while holding your hand and you think he’s cute for having a tight grip even though he’s sleeping. While he was sleeping, it’s now your turn to admire his handsome features and watch him sleep before you start your day and make breakfast.

You hate to admit it but it looks like he has completely won you over.

“You look good in my dress shirt” he greets you good morning and kissed you on your temple while you set the table. You feel his hands in your hips, slowly coming down to your butt, and realized that you’re only wearing his dress shirt and thin panties. He still can’t believe that this is all happening, “are you real?” He whispers.

“Yes. Now come on, I have a meeting with the parliament. Need to go home and get ready” you eat some fruits as you scan your schedule for the day and there you see it and completely missed it.

Lucas went home last night. And you left your personal phone in your car. Fuck you said to yourself but didn’t show it to Hendery.

Leaving this morning became harder than you expected and you spent a total of 20 minutes kissing and flirting with Hendery before you finally open the door.

You went on with your day and made an excuse to Lucas as to why you didn’t pick him up at the airport last night. You were at your office with stacks and stacks of paper works and you weren’t even acting stressed when he came in because you were indeed stressed with everything.

“Oh baby, I’m really sorry” you greet him with a kiss and left everything on your desk. Lucas saw how stressed you are so he understood immediately and didn’t even bother asking. “You’re coming home to me tonight right? I missed you” he added and pouted like the big baby that he is.

“Uh-huh. Of course yes, I’m all yours” you smiled and he hugged you so tight before he leaves you to work again.

“Of course. You’re always mine” he said and kissed you goodbye.

The nights are cold for Hendery when Lucas got back because he can’t get a hold of you. No text, no call, no email. No nothing. And once again, he was heartbroken and he felt like he’s losing you again.

When he visited your sister a week since the last time he saw you, Hendery saw you with Lucas and didn’t even think of taking another glance. He had all these emotions ball up in his chest and he needed to release them.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were visiting today” your sister was surprised and invited him into her room. When she turned your back at him, he saw your figure in your sister. He’s back to imagining girls to be you, he’s back to that sick habit of his. But he can't help it. Effortlessly, he flirted with your sister, and surprisingly your sister was horny. Very horny for Hendery. One thing led to another and the next thing he knows he’s fucking her hard from behind kissing her shoulders and imagining that it’s you.

“What’s that noise” you murmur to Lucas while you were having a nap with him. Lucas giggled and whispered back, “I think Prince Hendery paid her a visit and... you know...” he was giggling and keeping you close to him as he went back to his nap, completely clueless that you’re hurting.

Everything that you and Hendery built from the past few days falls down when you came to his house and had your first fight.

ACT 4

“You didn’t call! Or texted that he’s already back you just left me hanging!”

“And that’s a good reason to fuck my sister?”

“It just happened!”

“Bullshit!” You shouted back. Louder than before, completely overpowering his shouts. With all his bravery, he got you a glass of water, came closer to you, and caressed your shoulders to keep you calm.

“I fucked up and I’m sorry, please,” he says sincerely.

Then you realized something.

“You don’t have to say sorry to me. It’s okay if you and my sister fucked because someday you will be married to each other. Were the ones cheating”

He listened to every word you said and begged you to take it back because he’s losing you again. When you finally said, “let’s end this Hendery. Do you want to have more fights like this in the future? What will you feel if I tell you that me and Lucas fucked last night-“

It was like thunder, disturbing the silence of his quiet house when he grabbed the glass of water and threw it in one corner.

“Exactly my point. We don’t belong to each other anymore. I’m sorry”

“Y/n. Please-“ he begged once again but you just repeated everything you said and left him.

The end.

It was the end of your story with Hendery.

But just as you thought that you’re done handling one heartbreak for the day, you’re wrong. Lucas called to tell you the news that your grandfather had a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital.

After everything that happened on that day, you never made peace with Hendery and never talked to him again. Lucas saw you at your lowest and took care of you every day after the funeral and never left your side.

Months passed by quickly and Hendery is staying in your palace as per your sister’s request and continue to ignore each other for safety. Sometimes you greet each other for formality but never as friends and as past lovers. Lucas is not stupid to not see what’s happening.

Two months before your coronation day, you were sitting on your throne with your leg up and pouting as you’re thinking if you’re really ready to be a queen. You see Lucas enter the hall but you did not move an inch. He sat on the cold floor in front of you, reaching for your hand and kiss it.

“I miss him, I wish he could see me as a queen” tears started to fall but Lucas is quick to dry them.

“He saw you as a queen already even when you were only a little girl” you understand what he said and you’re thankful for him for not leaving you at your lowest and choosing to be with you even though he found out about you and Hendery. “So... I wanted to do this, while you’re still you. And not...the queen” he says awkwardly and pulls out a small red velvet box.

But you sit properly and stopped him from opening it and saying the question that will change your life, “how can you stay to a woman who cheats?”

“Your grandfather told me love is patient. I had a meaningful talk with him, you’re right he’s wise. He told me you love me and he said if one day you do something stupid and wrong, which turns out you did... He told me ‘check your heart if you still love her, and if you still do marry her and don’t ever let her go again’"

Tears started to fall from your eyes again. “So will you marry me Y/n. Let me be the one to dry your tears forever?” He let out an awkward laugh, nervous about the next thing that will come out of your mouth.

“Yes, of course, yes” you cup his face, and this time you’re the one to dry his tears away.

Little did you know that Hendery heard everything. And he is beyond heartbroken.

[awritingtree]

Here On Now and Forever

Sirius Black x reader

Summary: Y/N fondly remembers delivering some special news in response to Sirius’ proposal as she relaxes and listens to him fumbling around in their new home.

@weasleysflowr‘s 300 follower writing challenge: Fluff prompt 5. ““You’re an idiot” ... “I’m your idiot”” and miscellaneous prompt 5. “This is why we can’t have nice things.” The prompts have been bolded :)

Words: ~1.6k

Warnings: swearing, fluff, pregnancy, a bit of angst I think?

A/N: this is my first Sirius fic and I really do hope I did him justice. I originally wrote one the parts for a Fred Weasley fic but it fitted so perfectly in this one that I just had to include it (let’s see if you can guess which part this is - I had to adjust it to fit Sirius and his life). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy reading this xx

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Y/N had recently moved into a new cottage with her fiancé. The cottage was located on the edge of a lake, a dense forest surrounding the other side of the lake. The water washing over the shore and birds chirping in the forest provided a calming and soothing sound, one that was welcomed in the silence of the cottage when her fiancé was off on Auror missions. The cottage itself was small, enough for a small family of three, which is exactly the amount of people that would be dwelling in it in a few months.

On a particular day, a breeze that made the cornflower blue curtains in the living room fly was pleasant, creating the perfect atmosphere to sit near the window and watch the lake water wash ashore. That’s where Y/N was currently, with her eyes closed listening to Sirius move around in the kitchen, making some lunch for them both. Her hand was placed on her slightly swollen belly, as she fondly recalled when she told Sirius about their little future.

Y/N shoved her shaking hand into her coat, hoping the effortlessly beautiful raven-haired boy couldn’t feel the other hand shaking in his. How was she supposed to tell him this? Yes, they had been dating for approximately seven years, but they had never talked about kids. Starting their own family together had been a sensitive topic due to Sirius’ past with his own family. Y/N and Sirius had been out of Hogwarts for five years now. The war ended two years ago, You-Know-Who defeated at the hands of Dumbledore as Harry and Neville stayed hidden well for the first three years of their life. But still, Sirius had not shown any signs of proposing. Y/N had thought about doing it herself several times, but she knew this was a decision Sirius needed to make because it was him who had to decide, to commit, to the familial life which would not be easy for him due to his experiences.

Unbeknownst to her, Sirius could feel their intertwined hands shaking, but he mistook it as a reflection of his nerves. He wasn’t sure if he should carry out his plan. Would she want to start a life with him? Someone so broken, someone who never had a proper family until the Potters took him in. He had no idea if he was capable of providing Y/N the domestic life she deserved and wanted. He was known to fuck things up quickly. It was a surprise to him he hadn’t fucked anything up yet in their relationship (other than the time he almost lost her when he told Snape about how to make his way to Shrieking Shack on a full moon). What if this was the point where he did fuck up and lost Y/N for good? He couldn’t live without her. As absurd as it sounded, it was true. He could never imagine a life, a Sirius Black, without Y/N Y/L/N by his side.

“Ri, I need to tell you something,” Y/N said as she stopped in the middle of their walk through the park, her voice trembling.

“Before you do, I need to tell you something too. But let me go first because I don’t think I’ll have the courage if I wait any longer.”

Y/N was scared. Did he already know? Was he going to leave her? Wait, how did he know already? She knew she was very careful in making sure no one, and she meant no one, found out. Well except the Healer she visited in St. Mungo’s.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N didn’t see Sirius getting a small velvet black box from his pocket and kneeling down on one knee until his voice broke her out of her inner turmoil.

“Y/N/N. My love. The day I first met you, I never thought we would end up here. It took us three years to become friends and a year of subtle glances and dancing around each other before you asked me to accompany you on a date to Hogsmeade. Falling in love with you was sudden. It was like falling off the edge of a cliff and hitting the water below. Next thing I knew, I was drowning in you. The day I realized I was in love with you was the day I knew I wouldn’t feel such a love again. When we became friends, I knew it was a friendship I hoped would last as long as possible; but when I fell in love with you, I knew I wanted us to last a lifetime and hopefully longer than that. You are my other half, Y/N/N. You have shown me kindness and have always been patient with me no matter how reckless or brash I act. You have been by my side each time my mother has sent me a letter, held me through all of my panic attacks, and shown me what true love really is. I never thought I would ever have a family, that I would ever want a family with anyone. But you came along and changed everything; you make me want to have a family with you, a life with you. I want to be with you; from here on now and forever. So, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honour of giving me a lifetime and more by marrying me?”

Y/N gulped. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time, but now that it was here, she didn’t want it to be. Not when she was just about to tell him-

“I’m pregnant.”

The anxious grin fell off from an awaiting Sirius’ face. His eyes widened with shock as he stared at his girlfriend. Time passed but he did not move, he didn’t even blink. Y/n chewed on her bottom lip nervously, his lack of response not helping with slowing down her racing mind. ‘He really is going to leave you,’ she thought, holding in the tears that tried to run free. But as time went on, without the man kneeling in front of her showing any emotion, Y/N couldn’t hold down the fort any longer. Tears streamed down her face as her bottom lip quivered. She had assumed the worst; of course he didn’t want her around anymore, he wasn’t ready for this - maybe he didn’t even want this, a kid, a baby.

“I- I’m going to be a father?” Sirius whispered, finally breaking out of his state of shock.

Y/N nodded slowly, holding back a sob.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with him or her, nothing with us. I- we didn’t expect this. I won’t-,” Y/N took a deep breath, “No one will blame you if you decide to leave.”

Sirius quickly got up and cupped Y/N’s face between his hands. His silver-grey eyes, glistening with unshed tears, looked into her Y/E/C eyes.

“Never, my love. I could never leave you. I could never leave you, him or her. I can’t believe this. I- how long have you known?”

“A few days. I went to St. Mungo’s on Monday when I told you I was going to Diagon Alley to run some errands. I had my doubts for a while, the vomiting, the soreness and the fact that I was over two weeks late,” Y/N explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius asked softly.

“I didn’t know what your reaction would be. I still don’t exactly know what it is,” she said, a forced joking smile on her face. She was trying to diffuse the tension that still hung in the air from his silence, not very successfully though.

Sirius chuckled and leaned down pressing his lips against hers in a tender kiss.

“Like I said, my love. I want you from here on now and forever. And that includes our baby. I love you; I am never leaving.”

Y/N smiled widely through her tears and leaned forward to kiss the love of her life.

A loud crash snapped Y/N back to reality. She spun around to see a black dog transforming into her fiancé, a guilty expression adorning his handsome face. An overturned stand and broken flower vase lay on the floor next to him; water and wildflowers you’d freshly picked together this morning spilled over.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” muttered Y/N.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I completely forgot we’d placed that there. We can get a new one. I’ll go right away and buy another one, one much prettier and more expensive than this. You’ll be glad I broke this. In fact, you’ll forget all about this one.”

Y/N shook her head slightly with an affectionate smile on her face, standing up and walking towards him, “What were you even doing as Padfoot? Weren’t you supposed to be making us lunch right now?”

“Well um,” started Sirius, grinning at her sheepishly as he wrapped his arms around her waist once she was close enough, “I thought I’d come and call you as Padfoot, as a surprise. You do seem to love him more nowadays since we found out about our little future here,” he slid one of his hands to lie gently on her stomach, “But I got a tad bit excited.”

“You’re an idiot,” said Y/N, looking at him endearingly, her arms moving from his forearms to wrap themselves around his neck.

“Maybe. But I’m your idiot,” Sirius countered cheekily.

Y/N laughed softly. She stood up on her tiptoes to steal a kiss from her fiancé.

“My idiot,” she whispered against his lips before pressing their lips together again in a sweet loving, yet passionate kiss.

“I love you,” she spoke quietly.

“I love you too, my love. From here on now and forever.”

“From here on now and forever.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes 

Lmk if you wanted to be added to the taglist :)

[pensivetense]

A List Of (Mostly TMA) Fic Recs Sorted By Vibe

Not an exhaustive list by any means, just a few favourites that caught my fancy. I shortened many of the summaries for space.

I’m going to pin this here and update it as I go.

Also, I’m pensivetense on ao3

MELANCHOLY VIBES

for when you want to feel comfortably muted

(sad but not utterly bleak endings here)

Hope, Etc. (Dickenson, et al.) by yellow_caballero

Jonathan Sims, six months after the Unknowing, wakes to find himself without a daemon - without humanity, without a soul. It’s a cursed half-life, but existence as a shell without a heart isn’t so bad: between solving the mystery of a persistent illusion cast over his friends and some light pseudo-cannibalism, a life as a monster is better than no life at all. At least, it would be, if it wasn’t for the fucking Owl.

A freaking. Amazing. Daemon au. Ties the lore of Dust with TMA lore very satisfyingly, but is mostly about Jon navigating what it means to be human, or, in the absence of that, a person, and doesn’t require prior knowledge of His Dark Materials. Cannot recommend highly enough.

after one long season of waiting by nuinuijiaojiao

Annabelle is not used to having nice things. or, Annabelle heads to Upton House, muses a little, and gets some well-deserved rest

I love survivalist Annabelle and also the concept of the Web as kind of a horrible Patron, actually.

i love you. I want us both to eat well. by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse

At the safehouse with Martin, Jon decides it's time to quit statements once and for all. The Eye disagrees. Martin just needs Jon to be okay. It's quite possible that nobody is going to get what they want.

Scottish Safehouse Era, Jon and Martin coping with their respective Entities... really, really good.

the friend by doomcountry

He always greets a new spider when he meets it. It’s instinct, born in childhood, the same way he instinctively counts magpies, or flicks salt over his left shoulder. A little harmless superstition. A bit of politesse.

A great Martin character study with eldritch spider horror included. The imagery regularly haunts me (in a good way).

autumn’s rare gift by bee_bro

Annually, the two meet, renewing the binding ritual where it had all started. The procedure simple: a waltz.

Singlehandedly made me ship Gertrude/Agnes so there’s that. It’s so bittersweet and bee_bro’s writing is, as always, incredibly poetic. (I’d recommend everything they write, actually.)

smile, you’re trending by Goodluckdetective

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Features an original Eye Avatar character who’s a YouTube personality; she is infuriating and inspired and genuinely frightening and I cannot say enough good things.

Humility by The_Lionheart

have you no idea that you're in deep?/i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week,/how many secrets can you keep?

An OC centric story but don’t let that put you off, it’s amazing. Very heavily focused around Jonah Magnus and the other Avatars as they change through the years. Also, I’d die for the OC.

oh, for one sweet second without the eye series by faedemon

Beholding does not like in the way humans do, but it likes its Archivist all the same.

I’m just so fond of the way this is done stylistically. I have a great weakness for dialogue only/dialogue heavy writing, not to mention all of the wonderful character beats and interplay of humanity/inhumanity for Jon and Melanie.

Rewind by WhyNotFly

It takes eight days of forced confinement for Jon to start hallucinating. [...] It’s Martin, though, that his exhausted brain conjures, because of course it’s Martin. After all this time, of course it’s Martin.

Jon willingly allows himself to be confined rather than hunting for statements, and examines his relationship with Martin.

for a firmament series by supaslim

There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming. In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Part two posted this morning and uhhh. Good. Also if you’re here for weird eldritch body horror (I am), this one’s for you.

ONES THAT JUST HURT

for when you want to feel sad

(somewhat bleaker endings here/everyone is NOT okay)

Feste by yellow_caballero

If asked, Martin would say that he became the shadow director of the Magnus Institute by accident. But nobody ever asked, and nobody ever cared, and it was in this way that Martin stopped lying to himself. Or: break free, Martin. All you have to lose are your chains. And your sanity.

Oh, this one totally didn’t go the way I expected it to. A study in isolation. Could go into the category above, as the ending is not bleak, but the tone of the whole is somewhat more depressing than most there.

Ghosts of Love by RavenXavier

Nothing made Martin more grounded in the world than yearning for Jonathan Sims.

Lonely!Martin that really captures a sort of visceral ache. Hurts me and yet I keep rereading.

i do desire (we may be better strangers) by godbewithyouihavedone

For ages, it only knew how to worship, taking human bodies and living off the fear of those who remembered. It never knew love until it became Jonathan Sims. Now it must fight against every instinct to save Martin Blackwood. Archivist Sasha, Not!Jon/Martin, and the worst kind of Fake Dating AU.

Oh, this one just made me sad. The poor not!them, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Apple Of Your Eye by fakeCRfan

In which the Eye is fond of Martin. Perhaps a little too fond for comfort.

Somehow manages to be both sweet and horrifying—the characterisation of the Eye is incredible. ‘The Eye loves Martin’ is a scenario that’s so utterly doomed to failure and yet the writing is packed with so much pathos that I just want them all to be happy. A fantastic use of themes of agency and choice, and the single best use of Beholding as a source of horror I’ve read.

The Last Press by copperbadge

Jon Sims is awake, and has begun preparations for the Rite of the Watcher's Crown. Peter Lukas, who woke him, would be content to rule at his side. Martin is very upset about all of this, and the Lukases aren't thrilled with it either.

I really can’t say anything without spoiling the end and it’s so good. An alternate take on the Watcher’s Crown. Not a pairing that I ever thought would work for me, but this made it work.

watch the blood evaporate by 75hearts

It starts, like so many things in Jon’s life have started, with a nagging itch of curiosity. Jonathan Sims uses his healing abilities throughout s4. Read the tags.

Dear God please read the tags. But this is some high quality pain if it’s for you.

the lighthouse series by low_fi

Peter Lukas is a lighthouse keeper. One evening, he gets a call from a cryptic overseer tasked with monitoring his work.

This is such a vivid and yet subtle story—from the setting to the emotions portrayed, it creeps up on you slowly. The ending was like the gentlest possible gut-punch. The sequel just completed, and yeah, just as wonderful. This one is very much LonelyEyes but I listed it here because it is just exquisitely painful.

SATISFYINGLY HOPEFUL VIBES

for when you want to feel cozy

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight. It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs. He always liked the idea of it. And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

Somehow manages to be lighter and fluffier than most hanahaki fare, despite the setting. I’ve reread this one a lot.

the least he could do by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin should in fact not pick this man, specifically because of how attracted he is to him. It would be the responsible thing to do. Except he’s already following him. And he’s hungry.

Fluffy vampire au which everyone’s probably already read, but was too good not to mention.

rather interesting by bee_bro

Jonah Magnus realizes that, for some reason, when he comes in contact with weed, Elias Bouchard's consciousness will come into his life banging pots and pans.

Oh boy. So these are all favourite fics but this one is a favourite amongst favourites. The way Jonah is characterised (i.e. incredibly sensitive to scrutiny) is my favourite depiction of him, and the slow-burn between him and Elias is far sweeter than it has any right to be. Also, it’s hilarious.

The Magnus Records series by ErinsWorks

In a world parallel to that of the Archives and the Institute, a supernatural sanctuary stands against a cruel and uncaring world: A world of bureaucracy and tyranny, of murder and carnage, of loneliness and surveillence, of plague and death. But in this world of fear and misery, 14 entities born of the hopes of the world have emerged. And one of them has made their home here, at The Magnus Sanctuary. Perhaps, the employees within may lead happier lives than their counterparts did in the Archives.

This is just so goddamn pure. The author writes a really imaginative, fleshed-out alternate world and alternate Entities with engaging, well-written short statements. All of the character voices are absolutely on point, and it’s overall absurdly hopeful without ever feeling overly saccharine. I love this series so much, you guys, you don’t even know. I want to print it out and paste it on my wall. I love it.

HARD APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel dark and angsty (and eldritch)

Most of these are shorts/oneshots because it’s just that kind of genre, y’know?

Ashes to Ashes by marrowbones

A conversation at the end of the world.

Oliver Banks is one of those minor characters that I am overly attached to. Love him here.

Employee Benefits by equals_eleven_thirds

The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.

This manages to hit that perfect sweet spot of satisfying and hilarious. Rosie gets to torment Elias, as she well deserves.

a rose by any other name by Duck_Life

Part of Jon blooms in Jared Hopworth’s garden.

This one was sad and honestly too gentle to really belong in this category, but I love it.

Eye to Eye by Dribbledscribbles

In which Jonah Magnus attempts a post-apocalyptic pep talk.

Unreliable narrator at its finest, and the implications are suitably horrific.

commensalis by doomcountry

The tower is endlessly, impossibly tall, but Jon’s work is taller.

If you’re here for the eldritch imagery, then this has some of the best.

SOFT APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel gently triumphant

apocalypse how series by sunshine_states

Humanity adjusts. The Entities have Regrets.

Some nice vignettes set in a kinder apocalypse.

ceylon series by Sciosa

The one in which Jonathan Sims decides that no, actually, he isn't going to let the world just end.

I include this only for the sake on completeness, as everyone has no doubt already read it.

rituals by doomcountry

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

This one’s a little less focused on the world at large and more on JonMartin specifically.

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way; (although perhaps the world itself and the darkness that exists behind it isn't quite as out to get everyone as it seems).

More ‘soft revolution’ than ‘soft apocalypse’, but has the same vibe. A time travel fix-it. Incomplete but worth it if this is a mood that appeals to you.

Scarred Ground by DictionaryWrites

“You see," Elias said softly, "people always have this idea that only living things can be scarred - and they're right, of course. But a building is a living thing, Martin. And the ground can be scarred, too." "I don't have any scars," Martin said. "Yes, you do," Elias said. "You just need the right light to see them.”

Falls somewhere between ‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Soft Apocalyse’ but I’m putting it here because I feel like it. Also technically a LonelyEyes fic. I found it hard to follow at first but it’s worth sticking with; things will eventually begin to make sense and come together.

LONELYEYES

for when you want to feel lonelyeyes

marrying anguish with one last wish by procrastinatingbookworm

In which Elias isn't Orpheus, and Peter isn't Eurydice, but Elias brings Peter home anyway.

Lives in my head rent free forever. My favourite lonelyeyes fic.

ouroboros by Wildehack

“You know,” Jonah says, a muscle in his calf quivering agreeably where it’s slung over Mordechai’s shoulder, “it’s really quite--fortunate--that I don’t care for you at all.”

Oh, this one hurts in the best possible way. The endless cycle of their relationship, the way it comes full-circle... yeah, good. Actually, no, this one might be my favourite. It’s a tie.

Breaking all the Rules by Thedupshadove

Elias proposes a somewhat...unusual wager.

Soft lonelyeyes? In my recs? It’s more likely than you think. Short, sweet, and... sweet.

Threefold by Sprinkledeath

Peter Lukas breaks three rules.

I’m just a slut for mythology allusions I guess.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight by prodigy

In 2014, Elias Bouchard takes a rare trip outside of his comfort zone. Peter Lukas wastes a bunch of money. You'd be surprised how many things can go wrong for two beings of cosmic power.

I love the sense of the history of them you get while reading this.

love is just a word (the idea seems absurd) by kaneklutz

"Something's wrong. It's stopped hurting" An avatar of the Lonely and an avatar of the Beholding walk into a bar relationship. It was bound to blow up in their faces.

Short, sweet, painful. Excellent exploration of their priorities.

Victor by penguistifical

elias tries something with his powers that he hasn't attempted before

The one where Elias tries to raise the dead. Not incredibly LonelyEyes centric but that’s still the pairing.

Simon Says by penguistifical

“Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

I mean personally I’d just go ahead and rec all of penguistifical’s LonelyEyes fics but this is a standout for me.

AROMANTIC AND ASPEC MOODS

for when you want to feel Seen

The Aro Archives series by WhyNotFly

These are all just really really good. From Aro!Peter to two different aro-spec versions of the Scottish Safehouse to a long and beautiful aro hanahaki fic, this series is uniformly wonderful. The two Scottish Safehouse ones (Torn Edges and Murky Water) are my comfort fics.

and now all fear gives way by j_quadrifons

Before he can think it through, he murmurs, "Is that what it feels like? Being in love?" Martin's hand stills in his hair and Jon's stomach drops.

This one just. Wow yeah this is how it be. Another absolute comfort fic of mine.

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

I’m going to be honest—I didn’t know where to put this one. But it ended up here because the real standout of this fic for me is the portrayal of Sasha, and especially her portrayal as an aro character. So I’m putting it here. Mind the content warnings with this one!

HUMOUR

for when you want to feel delight

The Torment of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again. Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

Premise? Delightful. Execution? Fantastic. I read this one to cheer myself up when I’m sad.

Unlucky by VolxdoSioda

Jon’s dice betray him

Short, sweet DnD au, and the reason I cannot get DM!Elias out of my head now.

Voracious by beetl

A bird hits the window. Jon experiences The Flesh's thrall.

“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” but make it literal.

The Stupid Endings by Urbenmyth

There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site. These aren't among them. These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.

These are just uniformly hilarious, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

PODCAST CROSSOVERS

for when you want to make one of those “if I had a nickel for every time...” posts

The Sabbatical by morelikeassassin

Nicholas Waters is in need of an all-knowing eldritch entity beyond the confines of human imagining to help with his latest ritual. He'll have to settle for Jonathan Sims, who happens to have nothing better to do.

Crossover with Archive 81 (s3, specifically). Both fun and bittersweet.

The City And Its Sorrows by cuttooth

“What makes you think your friend is in Eskew?” David asks. He feels he can risk the scrutiny of the city that far. “I read that this is a place people end up when they get lost,” says the man. “This is a place people end up,” David agrees./The Archivist comes to Eskew.

Contemplative piece, and I love the way it presents David’s relationship with Eskew, the way he finds it horrible and hates it and yet belongs to it, is almost proud in the way he shows to to Jon. Great little vignette of two people oppressed by eldritch powers, intersecting.

Hiatus by bibliocratic

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am in Eskew. (Jon gets lost in a Spiral city. It is not as easy as escaping.)

This one is far more focused on Jon than David, and is honestly more Eskew-weird than Spiral-weird. In the best way. Told in Eskew episode style, and is very good.

Sweet Music by Shella688

Eskew has a music to it, if you know how to listen. The percussion beat of thousands of footsteps, the melody in the squealing of the trains overhead. Today, the music of Eskew comes in the form of nine musicians, playing outside my office. My name is David Ward, and I am in Eskew.

Not TMA, but since a lot of Mechs fans go here—this one’s a Mechs/Eskew crossover. Short and simple, mostly David Ward centric, just a little well-written one shot I had to mention because I enjoyed it but it doesn’t have much traffic. Nice portrayal of the Mechs from an outsider’s perspective, and how genuinely strange and frightening they’d come across (especially if you’re already being haunted by and eldritch city). If you like Eskew-style storytelling, check it out!

NOT TMA

...but good enough that I physically cannot make a recs list without including them. Here!

[fuckyeahharryhart]

THE ART OF SEDUCTION  PART 2 Harry Hart Fan Fic

KINGSMAN III: REDACTED (Main Fic)

HARRY HART/ ORIGINAL CHARACTER M/F

WARNINGS: Mature, lust, light D/s, sex. Very explicit, but tasteful.

Words: 16800 (it’s very long)

SUMMARY After their initial encounter in the manor lounge, Kingsman quarterly reviews find Harry Hart and Gwendolyn alone together again. This time in Harry's office. What starts out innocently enough turns into a challenge of wills, tradecraft, trust and surrender.

NOTES: This is part of my main series for KINGSMAN 3, but since this is the erotic part that many of us enjoy the most, I decided to also separate it so it's easy to find and read on it's own. If you're looking for the whole story, check out my other fics. Still in progress though.

-----

Harry Hart was a man not easily distracted. If a task required his focus, there was little of the outside world that could pull him away. There was even less temptation in his internal world, where he was the master of his thoughts and emotions. But recently, the image of Gwendolyn, watching her as he pleasured her with only his eyes and the suggestion of his hands, squeezed its way to the forefront of his mind, even with all the walls he put up against it. She made him question the identity he had inhabited for so long he didn’t know if he had the capacity to be anything or anyone else. Was he be a man who could be with a woman half his age? Who happened to be the daughter of his closet colleague? One who had sacrificed himself to save Harry’s life. The thought was unsettling.

An obvious rationale against getting involved was the age difference. He was almost exactly twice her age. Which wouldn’t be inconvenient in all circumstances. But recently, the thought of Gwendolyn watching him when she was younger had him feeling disconcerted. She apparently had spied on him, along with her own father for years. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or disturbed. How old was she when she hacked the Kingsman network? A lot of information, sensitive information had been transmitted through those comms over the years. If she had access to his files, she would know more about him than anyone else on earth. Had she gone through his files? She had never brought up any of its contents. That didn’t mean she hadn’t seen it. The possibility was discomforting.

She had mentioned she young when she started learning computer technology. But she had also mentioned that she wasn’t able to spy on Merlin until she was a teenager. Tracing though her father’s computer network helped her survive her teens. Age difference had less significance when one was almost 60 and thirty. Though some may not find it appropriate, it was essentially, the business between two fully mature adults.

But a thirteen year old girl spying on a 26 year old man? He had never known her at that age. He didn’t even know she existed. But what kind of observations of him had she made at that impressionable age? It was not just a difference in age. It was a difference in maturity and mindset. Gwendolyn mentioned that she had taken a particular interest in Harry because he was her father’s closest colleague. Had she placed him in some kind of surrogate father role? Or was she hanging on to what was no more than a teenage infatuation?

Though by all appearances, Gwendolyn seemed perfectly stable, mentally sound. No evidence of PTSD, no emotional scarring that hindered her personal performance as an agent. She was more taciturn and reserved than most, but same could be said of Harry. She was surprisingly well adjusted for having such a harrowing past.  Was anyone able to adapt that well after that kind of tragedy?

Mostly he feared that she was attracted to him because of displaced feelings for her father. Not that she saw him as a father figure, but perhaps she was filling an emotional void that was left when her father died, using the person who reminded her of her father the most. She certainly didn’t treat him as she would a father. She often seemed to suggest she was interested in Harry beyond a professional relationship. He was finding it harder to resist and at the same time more troubled at the the thought.

He was certain that she was attracted to him. All the signals were there. The subtle touches and physical contact she made. Her hand on his forearm to politely ask for his attention. Fixing his tie if it was crooked or smoothing stray hairs that got caught in the wind. The pleased smile that she always gave him when he appeared. The way she would end up by his side with this tea the way he always prepared it.

Then doubt would creep in. A lack of confidence that he rarely had to contend with. Was she the one initiating contact, or was it he? He couldn’t recall her actually actively seeking him out. He always was the one to come into her space, whether it be running into her on the shooting range, or joining a briefing, or finding her in the sitting room for afternoon tea. She was always the one who was there first. There was no way she could have possibly predicted his location for all of those times. She was an excellent spy, but that was mind reading level. Perhaps he was the one that was making himself available to her.

He knew she was fond of him, respected him, and at times admired him and equally found him exasperating. She was a little bit of a flirt when the mood struck her, but so was Eggsy and he was married. Had she actually made any overt moves that suggested she was interested in him as more than a mentor and a friend? Anything more than the harmless flirtation all the Kingsman engaged in? One would think the agents were ALL sleeping together at times, overhearing some of their conversations. On the rare occasions that she participated in these sessions, he discovered she could throw down as well as the best of them. She had never been that suggestive with him directly.

He prided himself on being a man without internal conflict. A man who did not doubt his words or actions. Then Gwendolyn had appeared, carrying doubt in one hand, conflict in the other, and handed him both.

——

It was late evening at Kingsman HQ. Harry leaned back in his office chair, interlaced his hand behind his head, stretched out his shoulders, unfolded his legs and let himself ease into a slightly less decorous position. It was quarterly review season for Kingsman agents and support staff. That meant long days for everyone, but most of all for him now that he was, in addition to Galahad Sr., part time Arthur as well.  Most everyone had already completed their reviews. The expected issues reared up. The standard responses were given to placate.

How long was Harry going to be playing two roles, Galahad Sr., and Arthur? Weren’t they going to do something about the two Galahad situation? Would agents be assigned new titles since most of table was empty?  Some of the agents had put in request for different names. Would new recruits have to go through the standard process or were they foregoing that tradition because of the dire need for new blood? They had questions about the new faces currently filing spots on the Kingsman’s roster. How long was the cowboy going to stay? It wasn’t going to be permanent, was it? How much sense did it make to have an Agent Tequila at their table of Knights. Shouldn’t he be required to take a new moniker as long as he represented Kingsman? And where did Gwendolyn fit in the scheme of things? Was she the new Merlin? She definitely could be. In time, she could almost be as good as her father. But she was also indispensable in the field as well. Would a new role be created for her? Would they just keep calling her Gwendolyn? Was she a permanent addition? Was she going to be assigned a code name?  The kingsman agents worked best with a grounded foundation. Which had a place for everything and everything had its place. Including all the agents and support staff. An organisation based on decades of tradition, customs and heritage was understandably thrown off when unknown variables suddenly appeared without established roles, boundaries, and expectations.

Harry had his own similar questions as well. He wasn’t sure what to do about Gwendolyn. The last time he had broached the subject of what she was looking for at Kingsman and what her future plans were, he suddenly found himself talking about the details of her next mission he had set up in Portugal. She could skilfully divert almost any conversation in the direction of her choice. It was both charming and exasperating. He was charmed at her skill and exasperated that even he could not resist swerving the conversation in her direction.

She seemed to be wary of any thing that committed her to the future. Not with her work. As an agent, her best work was in planning. But, rather in her personal life. On the occasions that it had come up in conversation, she elegantly avoided talking about her future, what she had planned, what she wanted, or if she had goals for the following years. Most Kingsman were upwardly mobile, looking for advancement. They were ambitious and had designs, targets, aspirations. Whereas Gwendolyn seemed to have little concern for what lay in her future besides the next mission. Harry didn’t know if it was so much living in the present or avoiding future disappointment.

His mind began to wander outside the borders of propriety. The way she looked on the evening they shared in the Kingsman’s lounge took residence in his head. Innocent and seductive simultaneously. Naive yet lustful. It seemed to take up physical space. Moving thoughts aside to make room to stay in the forefront. He desired her. Intensely. She was a study in contradictions. At first glance she seemed like a sweet, lovely young lady. But as he knew first hand she was a skilled operative, an expert in weaponry and tactics, marksmanship, with the ability to think on her feet and engage in even the most unlikely scenarios. Her ability to disengage her emotions in the field would be a stark contrast to her thoughtfulness and kindness in her everyday interactions. Usually reserved and reticent, she could be so direct at times, so forward, that it was unnerving.

He often recalled that night during the times he could not will his arousal away. Rather than satisfying him physically, it seemed to stoke his need for more. Would it ever happen again? Or was it simply a curiosity, an amusing thrill for her that was now satisfied.

He was sitting in his office, long after the other Kingsman agents had gone home, contemplating just that, when she appeared in his doorway.

------

“I was just finishing up.” She help up her last field report. “I emailed you the file. But here’s a printed copy in case you need it.”

Harry held out his hand. Gwendolyn walked across the rug, her heels slightly sinking into the nape and passed the papers across his desk. She wasn’t wearing a Kingsman suit, but she looked very Kingsman nonetheless. The hem of a dark blue and green tartan kilt brushed her legs, the pleats ending just above her knees.  She had matched this with a navy velvet blazer with grosgrain trim, a ruffled white blouse and black court shoes. A navy ribbon was tied around her neck in a small bow, the long ends falling along the front of her blouse. And matching black knee high stockings that he chose to ignore. Her long black hair was done in waves, gathered and pinned at the nape of her neck. Her makeup was, as usual, undetectable, except for a wash of color on her lips. A soft rose red.

He reached for the papers and felt a moment of friction when their fingers grazed. Had she felt the same? He thanked her and set them aside on top of the ever growing stack of reports on the edge of his desk that had found  residence there ever since he had taken over as a temporary Arthur.

He gestured toward the comfortable deep chestnut leather upholstered arm chairs in front of his desk.

“Please, take a seat.”

She walked around to the chair on her right, tucked her kilt under her as not to wrinkle it and sat properly, but comfortably. She smoothed down the front of her blazer. Knees together and slanted to one side, simultaneously elegant and demure.  Her hands were folded lightly over her thighs. She sat up straight with her shoulders back and a firm set to her chin. It reminded him of how she looked that first night, when she was recounting her story.

She looked at him with another one of her inscrutable expressions. Of no significance or consequence. Her face was pleasant, attentive, but revealed absolutely nothing. She could be in her head committing murder or rescuing kittens. She had it down to an art form. She was waiting for him to speak first.

He sighed inwardly. Now that she was here and he had her attention, she had no legitimate reason to leave as this meeting was scheduled in advance and she had nowhere else to be.

“How are you feeling?”

He kept the question purposely vague. Left it open for her to interpret as she would like. He was curious to see what direction she was going to take her answer. All of a sudden, the sight of her, prim and proper in her kilt and blouse, aroused him. He felt himself stir and he adjusted his position accordingly.

“How so?” she asked.

Harry gestured with his hand, palm up and swept it toward her. The floor is yours.

——

She sighed to herself. She was pleased to be seeing him this evening. She had even dressed specifically in the demure, ladylike, but still alluring style that she knew he preferred. Especially with the other agents mostly gone, she would have him without interruption. Often, during meetings in his office, a knock on the door would interrupt them and distract her from whatever part of Harry she decided to concentrate on for that meeting. Whether it be his hands, his eyes, or even the dimples that would appear when he did his half smile of pressing his lips together with amusement. She had once even spent a full hour staring at his forearms, and imagining she could feel them under the wool of his suit. She had purposely scheduled her review for the end of the day, hoping they could have some time without her concentration being broken every five minutes. Maybe even share a drink. Though she hadn’t had a drink with him since the night she tried to play a game of eye contact with him and he played with her, an entirely different game altogether.

Everyone seemed to want to know what she wanted for the future. She would prefer in the future that they stop asking her this question. Plans were an indulgence she had no patience for. She had absolutely no desire to voice a want or a need that she had no control over. Why did everyone seem to insist that she define everything in her life? Define her role, her place in Kingsman. Was she here indefinitely? Define her work. Was she a field agent or was she tech support? Why didn’t she have to wear the Kingsman suit if she didn’t want to. Define her past. And an evening in which she had hoped would include some harmless flirting and maybe staring at his mouth, was now turning into a discussion about her feelings.

Why couldn’t she just do her work and let it be that? She was an exceptional agent and handler. She took after her father when it came to tech support. She had the skills to perform many roles. They couldn’t accept that she had no plans.  She had but one goal, one mission, and she completed it. To get to Kingsman London and take her father’s place. Well, two, if she was being honest. Second, to meet her father’s friend and colleague, Harry Hart. That made two things that she planned and had accomplished.

She was mostly content ensconced in the daily grind that was life as a Kingsman agent. And she had Harry Hart when she wanted someone to share company with. If she was feeling a little more amorous, she was more than satisfied imagining being with him, but only when she was alone in the privacy of her own bed. After he had watched her pretty much imagine herself to climax while he played with his scotch glass like it was her, anything more than the most harmless flirtation, threw her off kilter.

She wasn’t quite sure if this evening would qualify as flirting. It seemed to feature a lot of talking. Perhaps this was Harry’s way of flirting. It was quite exasperating. He was really the only person she would even tolerate, anyway, aside from maybe Eggsy. She didn’t want things to be awkward with him. That other evening definitely fell into the awkward territory. Apparently, her father had also been the same, Not with the awkwardness, the “able to tolerate” part. Otherwise, she was more than happy to let fate lead her where ever it wanted to.

In the meantime, she was satisfied with her work. Now even Harry was asking her to define her feelings. Under the guise of a review. But she knew that he wouldn’t ask an open ended question during a meeting with an agent. Not when he had five more agents waiting in line for their turn. Questions that could be interpreted in many ways were inefficient. She had the feeling he was asking her on a personal, “I’m concerned about you,” Harry level. Not an Arthur, “so let’s get this over with,” supervisor level. She decided to skirt around the subject until she could guide the conversation to a more comfortable place. Preferably over a drink.

“You don’t have to worry about me, sir.”  She equivocated.

“I know that.” He replied. He felt himself stir again when she addressed him as sir . “However, you didn’t answer my question.”

Because your question is stupid, she thought. Instead she said.

“I feel like a drink.” That was easy, she thought. She neatly stood up and walked over to his small bar with the crystal decanter of scotch.

“May I pour you one?”

“I appreciate you offering me my own scotch.” He said with slight sigh. “And that was a very weak diversionary tactic.”

“First of all, I asked whether I could “pour” you a scotch. There is a difference.”

Without a reply from him, she splashed a finger’s worth in a second glass. Walking over toward him, she passed it over the desk as well. Her agitation at being questioned when all she wanted to do was listen to him talk so she could stare at his mouth was making her bristle.

“Second of all,” She clinked her glass against his and then raised her drink. “It worked. It got the job done. Here’s to feeling like a drink.” She took a sip.

“This would be the actual diversionary tactic.” She sat against the arm of one of the chairs. Lightly perched on top she said,

“The last time we shared a scotch was when you were schooling me on the finer points of the art of seduction.”

She felt awkward about the whole episode and she dealt with awkwardness by trying to make the situation more awkward for the offending party. Or in tradecraft terms, Detecting Threats and Preemptively Engaging Attacks.

“How did that make you feel?”

Hmmmm. Harry thought. She was walking a fine line, hoping that if he followed, she could throw him off balance and then direct the conversation toward a topic of her choosing.  A good way hide one’s emotions was by making one’s opponent experience stronger ones. If she believed this train of thought would derail him, then it most likely had her flustered as well. So apparently, it had been on her mind, too.

Harry seemed to be deciding something in his mind. She could see him turning something over, pausing, and turning it over agin. She took another sip of her drink and waited for him to speak.

She admitted that she was being unnecessarily difficult. He probably had a long day after the back to back reviews. He was simply showing concern. She enjoyed spending time with him and would usually look forward to meetings where she could be alone with him. Maybe she was frustrated. She didn’t want to say anything that would jeopardise their relationship, friendship, or whatever he wanted to call it. She just saw them as two people who enjoyed each other’s company in whatever way they wanted to.

His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, a micro expression that said he was looking at something he had been trying to make sense of and finally had. The look added on a firm set to his jaw.

“It would be in our best interest if you locked the door.”

It was a statement. Not posed as a question. She wasn’t sure what to make of this voice. Firm, decisive, a little demanding, a little authoritative. It sounded vaguely familiar. Under different circumstances, she would have automatically asked “Why?” But this evening was filled with little pockets of uncertainty. He was changing her game again. He was seeing her diversionary tactic and raising it, but to what?

For a spy, a room with even just one other person turned it into a potential event. An event was a scenario in which the occurrences could be manipulated or influenced for the agent’s own agenda. This was suddenly feeling like an event. The question was, should she engage? She had been trying to divert him so she wouldn’t have to discuss her feelings or why she didn’t have anything planned for her future. Now he was countering her diversion, but in an unknown direction.

If he just wanted to circle back to the review, it would have been an exasperated, “For goodness sake, Gwendolyn. You have your tipple. Now sit your arse down and answer my bloody questions.”

Whenever she was caught off guard, she always reverted back, remember your training.

-----

“Reading a room” in the spy world was deliberately observing a room to understand the overall emotions and thoughts of the persons in it, i.e. herself and Harry. Her assessment would help her calculate the best method of engagement of the situation in said room, i.e. what was turning into a bizarre agent review session. The art of awareness was the understanding group dynamics in small, confined spaces, i.e. Harry’s office, which was actually quite roomy and well appointed. On-the-fly situational judgments and character assessments from mere moments of observation and interaction. The goal to obtain actionable intel. He was just trying to prove that his diversionary tactic was much more effective than hers. It worked. Now she just felt awkward and uncomfortable.

The problem of using strategy to read the room? It was only Harry Hart. And Harry Hart was impossible to read.

Avoid engagement in unknown situations, she thought. The energy of the room had shifted and she didn’t know what to make of it yet. She pushed off her chair and walked over to the large wooden door. She would play along. She didn’t want to disturb the air by stirring it with further misdirection.

The door was like an anchor, a tether that kept her grounded. A single point of focus she could concentrate on rather than speculating on all the reasons why Harry would ask her to lock the door. Why didn’t he just lock it. Why did he want it locked in the first place. Why did he phrase it “in our best interest”? She need to stop with all the questions, and just act until she had a clearer idea of what Harry was up to.

It was frustrating. She could analyze a life and death situation, narrow down the problem, decide on a course of action, engage with the enemy all under direct threat and then act without hesitation. When she tried that with Harry, aside from the first night they met, she kept on slipping down the rabbit hole of “what if’s”.

Just focus on the door, she thought. The door was carved with an intricate design along the edges. Hmmm. She had never noticed it all the times passing in and out of Harry’s office.  Taking much longer than any spy needs to lock a door, she turned the brass knob above the handle to the right. It made a little click as the locking mechanism fell into place. The tiny sound seemed to echo through the quiet air. Without knowing why, she slid the bolt into place as well.

Could it be possible he was actually upset that she kept disregarding his concern? The last thing she wanted to do was upset Harry. She had always been able to veer around answering his questions if she didn’t feel like the question was a necessity. He had been so tolerant with her episodes of obstinacy. Had she pushed his patience too far? Was he going to scold her in private? Disappointed Harry was worse than upset Harry.

After Harry heard the bolt lock into place, he continued.

“Come over here. Please.”

Though the words were polite, the tone indicated that it was not a request. He spoke with a new inflection. His words carried a note that others most likely would miss. But she had been getting better at discerning the different shades of his voice.

She pressed her lips together. Before she turned around, she wanted to find the right expression. None of them fit. She composed herself the best she could, took a few deep breaths and relaxed her shoulders. She relieved Harry the trouble and scolded herself lightly. They went through so much classified information in this office, she was surprised it wasn’t a vault. Harry was just going to go over sensitive information and needed privacy with no risk of interruption. Whatever she was feeling was just her, not Harry.

Or most likely, she was going to turn around after spending all this time analysing the situation, he was going to smile and say.

Now that is what I would call an effective diversionary tactic.

That would be such a classic Harry Hart thing to do. Believing herself to be more presentable, she turned around and what she saw startled her to the extent that she dropped the small handful of confidence she was able to collect.

-----

Harry was in his white dress shirt and was in the process of rolling up his sleeves. His jacket, set aside on a hanger so as not to wrinkle, hung from a hook on the wall behind him. He was just in the middle of removing his set of gold cufflinks. One of his sleeves was already open at the wrist. The link was sitting on the desk in front of him. After he freed the second link, he picked up the first one and placed them both in a small silver tray. Whose only purpose might be, she thought, to make sure his cufflinks were safe and never separated.

Now this was unexpected. Don’t disturb the air. Determine the before you engage. She talked herself through the walk from the door toward his desk. She paused at the two chairs with a question. He tilted his head in his direction. All the way, it said. He was rolling up one sleeve as she walked.

As she stepped around, he rose from his chair. She met him on his side of the desk. She realised she’d never been in this proximity to Harry in his office. In this space. His space. He was always behind the desk. Agents sat in a chair. Without fail it was business. Always Kingsman.

She stood in front of him as he rolled up his other sleeve. This was as relaxed, “unclothed” as she had ever seen him on Kingsman property. The most relaxed anyone saw him was without his suit coat.  Oh, for fucks sake. He still had his leather shoulder holster on. With a gun in the sheath.

She was slightly unsure, hesitant, watchful. It was rare that she stood so close to him without a legitimate reason, like reaching behind him for more ammunition on Kingsman’s shooting range. Or trying to tip toe for a book at the HQ library, only to have him appear at her side to reach it for her. Personal space didn’t exist in the field when not being seen was a life or death scenario. More than once had they been squeezed together in extremely tight spots. But there has always been a reason. A legitimate and proper reason.

Here, he was just looking at her. She didn’t try to hold his gaze this time, but she didn’t shy away from making eye contact.  I know what that leads to, she thought. Damn her for bringing it up. She let her eyes move where ever they felt like. And they ran up and down the length of Harry Hart.  All of a sudden, she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“I would like…” he took an undefinable pause. He was deciding on something. Contemplating an idea. He was making a choice. It was as if he needed to complete the thought in his head before he spoke out loud.

He started again, with assurance.

“I would like to bend you over my desk.”

——

She almost choked. 

If she had been drinking, she most definitely would have choked. She almost choked anyway.

What the fuck? Of all of the words that could have come out of his mouth, “I would like to bend you over my desk” had to top the very top of the least likely list. She was completely and utterly caught off guard. A rare sensation for her. She had no trained reaction she could fall back on in this scenario. Her resting heart rate started to rise. A heated flush rushed up to her cheeks. She suddenly doubted herself. Was that really what he said? Or did she just hear him wrong. Did he forget to finish his sentence?

Didn’t he really say, “I would like to bend you over my desk so I can use your body as a unit of measurement to determine the distance from one edge of my desk to the other?

It would have been no less bizarre a request.

Yes, of course she had imagined what it would be like to be with him. What he would do to her, what would he feel like. How he would take her. How could any woman not? He was Harry Hart. But as she knew, shooting under live enemy fire was much different than practice shooting at the range. While she wasn’t under any danger, her body’s response was the same as when she was on her first real mission. It was her fight or flight response. Her automatic physical response to a perceived threat that activated her sympathetic nervous system and triggered an acute stress response that prepared her to fight or flee.

She knew exactly how the fight or flight response worked on a physical level. In this case, Harry was the perceived threat, the catalyst. Upon hearing his command, a sudden rush of hormones began a chain reaction causing the release of adrenaline, which increased her heart rate, blood pressure and breathing rate. It was also however, very similar what the physical body experienced when sexually aroused. At the present moment, she wasn’t sure if she could tell the difference. Not that it mattered. It had the same effect in the end.

She wanted to add a third response, fight, flight, or freeze. She was trained to fight anytime her fight or flight response was activated without hesitation. She knew how to engage with an enemy, depending on the circumstances of the fight. Was it hand to hand combat, a fire fight, urban warfare? She could handle that.  She did not have any training scenario that instructed her on how to engage with Harry Hart when he asked, no, scratch that, when he commanded that she bend over his desk. None whatsoever. Absolutely nothing. She was out on a limb, swinging on all the tiny branches.

The dots were refusing to connect. She was having a very hard time linking the statement she just heard, to the man who said it, to the action it led to. And she was shivering all over. She tried to stop it, but couldn’t and she was very, very anxious about it. Now she knew why earlier she thought that his tone sounded familiar. It was the voice of the man that had sat across from her one evening in the club. Playing what she thought was a silly game of wills. He had a glass of scotch in his hand then, too. He hadn’t said a word during that episode, but if he had, she knew that this is what it he would’ve sounded like. It was Harry’s voice, deep, smooth, powerful, but with an added layer and additional edge.  It was the voice of a man who was going to have sex with her. Statement.

THIS. She remembered. THIS was how he felt that night. He was Harry, but more. Harder, more intense, demanding. And completely assured. And aroused. She was feeling dizzy and trembly as well as anxious now.

Fuck. Scratch that. Holy fucking fuck. Fuck. She added a final one for emphasis. Fuck.

The image, let alone the thought, of her bent over Harry Hart’s desk, him behind her, being taken by Harry Hart, completely rearranged her mind. Nothing was connecting. She, who could control nearly every emotion and resulting physical reaction out on the field, was helpless in his presence. Her imagination could only get as far as being bent over Harry’s desk and then her mind would short circuit.

His mouth was moving. Oh, God, she thought. What is he saying now?

She tried very hard to concentrate on his words, but she was vibrating and didn’t know if his words would land.

“But first,” He said, “I am going to kiss you.” He was looking down at her, curious and amused. “That is, unless you object.”

Her head shook from side to side without any direction from her.  Why would she object? He was only the most perfect, charming gentleman spy and the hottest mentor that she had ever had who was equal parts devastatingly handsome and achingly sexy.

“I can’t hear that.”

What? She thought. Her head shook again before she had the wherewithal to speak out loud.

“I don’t object.” she returned with much more confidence than she felt.

Ohmygod, I am going to be kissed by Harry Hart. The phrase repeated on a quick loop in her head.

No, she thought again, there was nothing that could have prepared her for this as she short circuited again.

——

Harry Hart could tell that nervousness was not usual for her and ascribed her anxiety to both the surprise of the situation and the way it was presented.

He knew that he was to blame for all of that. He had arranged it purposely to do so. His intent was to catch her off guard. Not only off guard, but completely unexpected and totally unprepared. Having your mentor request that you bend over his desk, in his office, in his place of work, was not high on the list of things you expect to happen during an employee review. Especially if your relationship up to that point had been exclusively mentor and colleague. Her bewilderment would prevent her analytical mind from automatically activating and analysing the situation.

She was a secret agent, with work and life experience that could overwhelm a hundred people, let alone one. Her background was steeped in risk, loss, danger, and uncertainty. She had the grit to handle all that life had delivered and come out on the other side. She had the physical control to reduce the effects of shock. It was part her natural resilience, her capacity to adapt, and her training, that conditioned her to act under the most unlikely scenarios.

Part of the exhilaration, frisson, and the charge of being intimate with a new partner was the aspect of the unknown. And if that unknown was unexpected or even slightly shocking, it could elevate the experience. He was certain that a fine dinner and a return back to his flat for an evening of lovemaking would be lovely. But he didn’t want lovely for this evening. There was plenty of time for lovely. One had only a single chance for an unforgettable first time.

He did not know how sexually experienced she was, but from observation he suspected that her experience was not very extensive. First of all, she didn’t seem like the type of person who sought esteem or worth through being sexually desirable or one who found validation through sex. She also didn’t seem like a woman who would find pleasure in sleeping with random people to fulfil a purely physical desire.

All agents could take care of themselves if they found themselves needing physical release for one reason or another. For male agents, he knew that it was an excellent way to fall asleep quickly in the field where every second wasted may be the difference between a successful mission and a failed one. She would have to find her partner interesting and attractive and desirable in some way, or else she would not find the experience pleasurable. Judging from how many people she kept company with, or how little, her standards were very high.

One-night stands were possible. Agents also had a way of charming a person for only a night or an evening. If the chemistry was strong enough, agents most definitely could organise encounters on the side. In his experience, a one night stand was fairly similar to the one before it and the one after it. It didn’t give one enough time to delve into the desires of the other person. Most often, it was a way to find some temporary pleasure and company, if company was even desired. One night stand sex was fairly predictable, making sure whatever technique, position, location had the greatest chance of pleasing both parties, which often were the most standard.

Rarely, if ever, did an agent find someone who they connected with so strongly, intensely and quickly that they could trust them to explore more intimate sexual pleasures.

He found it amusing. Most of Kingsman would be shocked if they knew of his, at times, unconventional views on sex. Gwendolyn obviously was. He enjoyed exploring outside the box in life and in work. Sex was no exception. If both parties were not only in agreement, but in tune and in a space of trust, there was a freedom to be experienced in sex, and there was little he would be opposed to trying with the right partner. But one did not build that brand of trust in a single encounter. It took knowing the other individual on an extremely personal, extremely intimate level.

No agent wanted to seem or feel vulnerable, but to Harry, that was the exhilaration of good sex. It was the only place he would allow himself to feel vulnerable. Vulnerable meant being exposed, open and sensitive. And if that didn’t describe sex, he didn’t know what did. If you knew the fears and desires of a person who was capable of being vulnerable, then the pleasure you could provide them would be unlimited. The most important factor was trust. Something that spies were notoriously bad at. Both at gaining and giving.

He was very attracted to her, sexually and personally. She was equal parts alluring, and seductive, but without effort. She fascinated him. People rarely did. But most of all, as a man who valued his private time and personal space, he found that he sought out her company whenever he had an opportunity. That behaviour was telling. He could picture her in his space, without it feeling like an intrusion. Typically, whenever he had company, no matter how much he may be enjoying himself, there would always be that moment in the evening where he wished his space was his own again.

It felt like she could just be. Be in his space and he would not be bothered by it. Not that she could easily be ignored. The point wasn’t to feel like she wasn’t there at all. It was recognising her presence and not having to feel any kind of demand or expectation for him to do something different or be someone different. Basically, that he could be himself. He could imagine sitting in his favourite chair in his flat, a fine old leather piece, well made, that had held up for years and still had many more years left. He would be reading a book or a newspaper. She would be quite relaxed on the floor with a pile of pillows as that was how she preferred to rest, but near his chair. Close enough where she could bracelet his ankle with her hand, the other hand holding her own book or more likely her smart phone. Close enough where if he let his hand fall over the side of his chair, that he could touch her hair, or cheek and perhaps find her hand brushing against his. Simple touches, not requesting more, not requiring more than just acknowledging the existence of the other person. Companionship. Something he never had truly experienced before.

He sensed this was possible the evening of her little battle of the wills. Well, prior the seduction portion of the evening. She was perfectly comfortable and natural being seated together in silence. He was fairly sure that she had not even spoken a word, though she had communicated much during the time they had shared.

Which was another reason he determined that she had limited sexual experience, but was very sexually open in the right circumstance. That evening helped him decide how he would approach her, how to initiate their engagement, so to speak.

Her surprise when he lifted the challenge up to its proper level suggested that she was fairly new to the game of seduction, or at least in the actual physical practice of the game. He was quite sure she was attracted to him. But most of all, was her willingness to be controlled and allowing him the freedom to control her. That said trust to him. Her reaction betrayed her surprise, but also her desire and her enthusiasm, if not eagerness for the experience. And also, the evidence of her enjoyment that merely the idea of being controlled by Harry, aroused her.

He suspected that she had some slight D/s tendencies, even if she did not consciously recognise it. D/s could be misinterpreted, and often was, but dominance and submission was not exclusively about inflicting or enjoying pain. It was not akin to degradation or humiliation. But it did revolve around humility, or being humble, which was a different affair all together. It was centred on being pleasing ,and thus, giving pleasure and receiving pleasure. If that included pain, well then, it was a mutual understanding. If a man treated a woman well, with respect, if he honoured her and treasured her, there would be little she wouldn’t do to please him. What many people didn’t realise is that the man didn’t choose the woman in D/s relationships, the woman chose the man based on his worthiness.

That encounter led him to believe, as little experience as she may have had, her willingness to stay with the challenge, which some may, feeling embarrassed, would have halted, that she was extreme in ways that she might not recognise. She was certainly extreme in most other aspects of her life. And also, that she had enjoyed herself immensely when faced with an unexpected scenario that surprised her and she was unprepared for. He thought that may have even heightened her response.

The key was, if she was vulnerable, she would be open to receive all of the pleasure he knew he could give her. And seeing her pleasure would be pleasing to him as well.

She may find the situation that he arranged for their first time together extreme and unorthodox, unusual. Her preconceived notions of sex may tell her that this was improper or strange or inappropriate, but he knew, ultimately, that if she allowed him, he could pleasure her in ways that she didn’t even know existed. Just the thought of it aroused him.

He only need to catch her before she was able to put her guard up and behave and react in the way she thought she should, not the way she wanted to. He wanted her to react on a purely instinctual, visceral level. This was one scenario where analysis would work against her, not for her.

He placed his hands to the sides of her face, ever so gently, barely touching, passing smoothly over her features. He could sense the slightest tremor through her entire body. She was still responding on a physical level, not an intellectual one. He didn’t want to give her a chance to think herself out of this situation, so he leaned down and kissed her in the way he wanted to, and in a way he knew she would enjoy.

——

Your knees really do go weak, she thought. With one small step, Harry entered her space. Sexy and commanding in his shirt and shoulder holster. He seemed larger than she remembered. He positively towered over her. Her eyes could not meet his gaze but she knew that he was looking down at her.  He lifted his hands to her face. Each palm cupped the curve of her jaw, lightly, tenderly, almost touching her, but not quite. The warmth of his hands and the heat from her cheeks closed the distance between them. Her skin burned and tingled in anticipation.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she held back a sound that was part sigh, part moan when she felt Harry’s gentle yet firm hands caress her face. His palms, fingertips, knuckles, the back of his hands, traveled every curve and hollow as if memorising her features through touch. He explored her lips, very slowly brushing across her cupids bow with his thumb, barely touching. Gwendolyn couldn't help herself. She parted her lips, her tongue instinctively trying to making contact, before he lightly glided over the soft skin of her cheek.

The wait was excruciating. Harry Hart was going to kiss her. She was going to be kissed Harry Hart. That was her last thought as he bent down and brushed her lips with his own in the most tender of kisses. The contact was soft and warm.

That slightest touch made a shudder run through her body. His hands still gently braced the sides of her face. His hold was exquisite. The anticipation was devastating. His lips parted and his tongue began to press against her with a soft but firm insistence and her mouth opened to him. The woodsy, smokey, slightly sweet taste of scotch still lingered as he kissed more deeply, slowly swirling his tongue around hers. He knew, very well, what he was doing.

Sensation flowed through her entire body, pulses of pleasure reaching every inch of her, prickling her skin. Thousands of synapses were sending messages from Harry’s mouth to hers. They traveled to her brain, which translated her desire in a language her physical body could understand and shot the directive to every last nerve ending.  Hundreds of thousands of electrical connections manifested as lust, as longing, as need. She felt her muscles twitch involuntarily. For this man, she thought, and this man alone. For Harry Hart.

He only had his mouth on hers, his hands on her face and she felt consumed by him. Overwhelmed by him. One of his hands traveled to the nape of her neck and nested his fingers within the twist of hair that was gathered and pinned there. His other hand traveled down her side and pressed into the curve of her waist. Her neck was gently but insistently bent backward. Gwendolyn’s breath caught in her throat. Harry demanded more and she yielded to him, letting his mouth claim hers. His grip tightened, her scalp prickled, but it wasn’t painful. It was just persistent. The room seemed to be spinning in slow motion. She felt herself begin to melt into him.  A shudder ran through her body.

Gwendolyn’s resolve was demolished as his lips crushed hers. She relinquished herself over to him. With a single heady kiss, her self-control was washed away in a flood of passion.

When at last the kiss ended, Gwendolyn’s breath was heavy, her head light, her body trembling. Opening her eyes, time stood still. Gwendolyn saw the corners of his mouth slowly turn into a smile.

She realised their faces were just inches apart. Harry’s golden brown eyes reflected the dim light of his office.  They journeyed along the curves and angles of her face and stopped until she dared to look up and meet him. The warm intensity of his gaze made her heart pound in her chest. Pulsating anxiety mixed with devastating pleasure.

Seconds, minutes, passed as time meant nothing to her. She still didn’t know what to do with her hands. Her hands had hung by her side as if her brain was too occupied with what was happening to her mouth, it didn’t have the capacity to consider what any other part of her should be doing.  She was still afraid to touch him, as if the slightest contact might sear her like dry kindling ready to go up in flames.

As he pulled his face away, his hands were still in place.

“I believe it’s your turn.”

He took her wrists, raised her hands to his face and laid them gently on his skin. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Gwendolyn’s heart was pounding in her chest as she caressed his face as gently as she could. She trailed her trembling fingertips along his strong jaw, down his neck, feeling the beat of his pulse. He was warm. And masculine. Hard muscle under smooth skin. Back up she traversed, tracing his cheekbones, his brow and the wide planes of his forehead. She lowered her hands to his chest, with only her fingertips touching his shirt.

He opened his eyes, staring at her and smiling softly. He reached up and took her hands in both of his. She swallowed again but it was no use. Her mouth was completely dry. She couldn't have spoken even if she knew what to say.

“Now, you may think that door is locked,” he nodded in its direction, “to keep you from leaving. It is not. It’s merely for privacy. You are not bound here by me, nor by anyone else. I want you to be here, because you want to be here. I may have initiated this meeting, but it’s both of us that are needed, consciously, and voluntarily for it to be worthwhile.

“You may stay, or you may leave. I cannot say that I won’t be disappointed, but that is only because you are flawless, and I want you. But my physical needs are not of your concern if you leave. I have stated as clearly as I can, what this evening will entail. There are no repercussions if you chose to leave. There may be another opportunity at a different time. But do not let the future influence what you decide at this moment” his gaze softened in understanding. “Is that not what you believe?”

One of his hands released hers. He reached up to touch her face again. Simultaneously, there was a hardness and a softness in his eyes that was riveting. Arresting. It took her breath away. And when he spoke, his words were all that mattered. His voice dropped, low and intense.

"There is much I want to show you, to tell you, and to be for you. And there is much I want you to be for me.  But that is not up to me. For you, there will always be a choice. So I will ask you now. Would you like to leave? Or would you like to stay.” He added, “And be with me.”

To Gwendolyn, there was no question. This man, always smart in his suit and tie, freshly shaven, …always a gentleman.  His thoughtfulness, his patience and his nature, a kindness that was at the same time gentle and firm... His face, his eyes, his hands strong and capable. His intelligence, dedication, his passion...

It all added up. The answer was obvious.

“I would like to stay. And be with you.”

She felt the strength of his arms, arms that had already been around her for so many different reasons, envelop her now for only one reason. Allowing herself to finally be close to him, she eased herself against him, laying her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes. She could hear and feel the beating of his heart. It relieved her when it sounded almost as quick as hers. He was affected, too.  He leaned down a little, brushing his cheek lightly against her forehead. Her inhalations carried the scent of his cologne, blended with whatever was essentially him and it was intoxicating. She wrapped her own arms around his torso and she could feel his strength through his familiar white dress shirt.

Harry never failed to amaze and surprise her. She knew that there was more to Harry Hart than the Agent Galahad he presented to the world. She simply hadn't expected the intensity of all of who he was. There was always an undercurrent of harmless flirting. As it was, the Kingsman agents were already uncomfortably close and personal with each other, a little too much for her tastes at times. Other than the evening that she attempted to challenge him to a staring contest, which turned into something quite different, nothing of her experience with him could have prepared her for the Harry Hart she was witnessing this evening.

He was always considerate, proper, polite. A true gentleman. But he was still being a gentleman, she thought, even under these unusual circumstances. Just an extremely forward and sexy one.  She could only judge his actions according to how it made her feel. And so far, everything that he had said and done hadn’t made her want to run out of the room. His words and his actions caused a surge of electricity that flooded her senses, waking every urge, every need, every desire within her.

He was still Harry Hart. He was still a man of integrity. He was just more. But it was so much more he was almost completely different. While Agent Galahad made her feel protected and safe, this Harry made her feel exhilarated in a way that was both thrilling and dangerous. But looking up at him, the familiar benevolence was still there. She could see it in the brown eyes that were staring back at her. Strangely, in spite of the torrent of passion brewing, Gwendolyn felt secure with him. He would look after her. Like he always did. She would let him take the lead.

Harry continued talking to her almost the entire time, explain things so she wouldn’t have to guess. Telling her how he felt and what he thought. In her delirious state she listened to him as if she were in in a waking dream. Aware of everything going on around her, but not being able to react.

He took her hands again and guided her over to the desk. Her heart began to race.  She knew he could feel the shaking in her fingertips. He led her over and first slightly lifted her so she was sitting on the desk, facing him so she could see him as he spoke.

“Regarding the desk. Not as conventional, I must admit, especially for our first time together. But I determined this to be the position that you would enjoy the most and receive the most pleasure. Not that other positions aren’t pleasurable, but I chose this purposefully for you.”

She looked confused.

“I should explain. Please be assured that I will no doubt, find all the ways we will be together, as thrilling as this. Though one must admit, the view, from my perspective lends a certain charm.  Perhaps you think it’s a little impersonal. Not being face to face. I do realise that eye contact adds a bit of intensity to the act. Not to worry.”

He tipped his chin toward the far side of the room.

She turned her head. Fuck. She had forgotten about the mirror next to the door. As exacting that the Kingsman suits were, there was a full length mirror placed next to every door of every office so every agent could make sure he or she was presentable before representing their organisation.

She turned back to face him.

“I will be able to see you, darling. As you will be able to see me. You will also be able to see yourself. And you will also be able to see me watching you. The possibilities are quite endless. I have the suspicion that this is something you will take pleasure in.”

Now this was just too much, she thought. When Harry Hart did something, she had to admit, he sure made it memorable.

Every time she thought that the standard had been set and the situation could not possibly become more intense, something would happen and Harry would level up. She wasn’t sure if she could go up that high. Harry seemed to breathe rare air. He must be breathing something else up where he stood.

He called for her attention.

“This evening should be less talking and more doing. But I want to emphasise that we will be communicating the entire time. I will be watching you, making sure you are ok, that you are enjoying yourself and also looking for ways to pleasure you even more.”

“Do not hide your reactions for fear of judgement or pretend to feel something that you don’t because of expectations you may think I have or that you have for yourself. If you find that you hate what I do with you, you will know right away, and I will know right away.”

He placed her hands on top of her lap and placed his palms on the backs of her hands. He was caressing them reassuringly.

“Now I didn’t select this by random. After observing you for many months, watching your behaviour, listening to you speak, the way you approach your work. And our little encounter in the lounge told me that you would respond more intensely, more physically, more emotionally to a situation that pushed you, that challenged you, that was unexpected. If I was able to catch you unawares, you would be more willing to let yourself explore your own needs and desires.”

Harry was very frank and honest with her.

“Do not fake, do not pretend. You will not be hurting my feelings or offending my manhood or abilities as a lover. I am more than secure in that regard. For some women, no matter how much they may enjoy being taken in this position, they are not able to climax.  If we find that to be the case, I will be able to tell and  I’ll move you in ways you will find more satisfying. If it so happens that release isn’t in the cards this evening... I am also aware that the female orgasm is much more complex than ours. But I am sure we will both enjoy trying and perhaps allow me to opportunity to enhance my repertoire.”

She highly doubted that would be the case, but she was impressed that he was comfortable and at ease enough to bring up a topic that would make most men cringe.

“Also, as I female agent, I understand you are on birth control.”

She nodded. The last thing a female agent needed to be surprised with on the field was her period.

“Being that all Kingsman’s reviews are preceded by a complete physical, I know that I pose no risk to you. Are you the same?”

She nodded again.

“Lastly, that doesn’t mean that you want to be unprotected. I have means here available. I will let it be your choice. A man should be pleased, either way, that it is happening at all. Do you require additional protection?”

She smiled and this time, shook her head.

“This is not me, having you in the way that I want. It is us, being together in a way that enhances the experience, for both of us. One doesn’t work without the other.”

“Do you have any questions that I haven’t addressed? I understand that these are not the most romantic of topics, but I’ve found that if all areas of doubt or uncertainty are handled beforehand, one has that much more freedom to enjoy the experience.”

She shook her head again.

“I want you to relax, trust yourself, and let me help you. Trust me. Trust me to guide you. Would I ever lead you wrong?” His voice was sure. Steady. Firm.

He didn’t just look at her. He saw her. He saw into her and he knew how much he could be for her. And what she could be for him.

“Is this still something you want?”

She nodded. Her nervousness and anxiety eased into something that felt less uncertain, much more natural and just as intense.  All of a sudden, in her head, everything seemed completely normal. He had addressed all her concerns without even needing to be asked. He made it seem like such a reasonable request to ask her to bend over so he could take her over his desk.

“Yes.” She replied.

There was no man that she trusted, nor respected more than Harry Hart. This was just another part of the same man. And Harry Hart was the sum of all his parts

Anxious with excitement, she was less apprehensive and more eager. She had spent the majority of her life avoiding intense emotions, being in control, thinking rather than feeling and it had served her well as an agent, and she thought, in the rest of her life. But here he was, telling her to let go, to feel, to be vulnerable, everything that she had been trained to resist. Even just the idea of being with Harry set her heart pounding, let alone over his desk. It felt thrilling and dangerous and foreign, but she had to admit she had imagined similar scenarios in her head. But she thought them to be fantasy. He was right though. She really had no defence. When she was stripped away of all her uncertainties, as Harry had done, this was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.

All her misgivings were becoming undone, the knot of doubt and uncertainty in her core, slowly coming untied. Its grip loosened by Harry’s considerate words, his understanding gaze, his warm touch, the press of his lips, his strong hands, by his entire being.

She would follow his lead.

—-

He sensed that she was gathering her thoughts. When she looked up at him, she took a deep breath in and a long breath out. Her energy, though still prickling with anticipation was more settled, less scattered. It hold him she was fully present and she was ready. She was looking to him for guidance.

He would take things slowly, with ease and patience. Always aware of his responsibility, not only as a mentor, outside of this space, but as a protector, here, together. He was asking her to expose all that she was, both physically and emotionally. He needed to keep her safe so she had the freedom to let herself, not lose control, but to realise and release all that she was. And the confidence in him to keep her guarded and secure.

He placed the palms of his hands under her own and helped her slide off the desk and onto her feet. With her hands still in his, he bent down and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger along her hairline breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo and the more complex notes of her perfume and that which was her. The smell was feminine, but not girlish. It was elegant and sophisticated, just as she was. With one last brush of his lips against her own, he kissed her. Pressing his cheek against her hair, he let go of her hands and placed is own about her waist, gently, but deliberately turned her to face his desk. He helped her with her jacket and hung it from a hook behind him. Then just as gently, just as firmly, with one palm between her shoulder blades and the other resting at the small of her back, pressed down on her until she bent over, first from the waist and then hinging from her hips until her entire upper body was lying on the smooth, clean surface of his polished wooden desk. She turned her head to the left, letting her right cheek rest on the wood. She let out a soft sigh.

Never one for rushing, Harry took his time. Making sure there was no hesitation. That the only tension she felt was from anticipation, from desire, and not from doubt or uncertainty.

Also, if something is worth doing, it is worth doing properly. He stepped in behind her, just barely leaning the weight of his hips into her own. He massaged away her misgivings, helping her relax and he rubbed slow circles on her lower back with the palm of his hand. His other hand reached up her spine, searched through her hair for whatever was holding it up. His fingers landed on a pin and he smoothly pulled it out, letting her hair waterfall down around her shoulders. He swept it to one side so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing, though still deep, began to slow down to match the motion of his hand.

He was going to move at her pace, only moving forward until her face, her body, her movements told him, not only that she was ready for more, but that she wanted more. His other hand remained at the nape of her neck, massaging the base of her skull more firmly, with consistent pressure, like waves rolling in and out of the sea. She began to roll her neck slightly to one side, he concentrated his movements there. When she turned her head in the opposite direction, turning her head to the right, resting on her left cheek, he worked on the other side.

The hand on her lower back moved in continuous circles, with slightly more pressure. As he was doing this, he continuously leaned a little bit more weight into her. Only by fractions. So slight she may not even be able to tell. Definitely not having her bear the full weight of his body. Simply allowing her to feel his presence behind her, but not actively pressing into her, or be close enough that she could feel his arousal. He was a patient man and he was enjoying himself thoroughly.

He would have been satisfied, well perhaps not physically, with simply massaging her all evening. Then he began to see the signs he had been waiting for. Just the slightest arch of her lower back. It moved her chest into the desk and tilted her hips toward him. He kept his movements the same. Slow and sensuous. Rhythmic. She began to roll her neck out more, gazing straight down with her forehead resting on the desk, before rolling again to the other side. Still he waited. He heard another sigh as he continued to move his hands over her. Her breath began to quicken once more. Then she gave him what he wanted from her. She pushed her hips back, just the smallest bit toward his pelvis, until she was arching and lifting into him, completing their contact. And her hands. When they first began, she rested her arms shoulder height, bent at the elbows, like one does when sleeping face down. Her hands were soft and relaxed. As she leaned back into him, she made little fists and drew her arms under her, so she could bear weight on her forearms, helping to push her back. And still he remained with his smooth firm circles. He wasn’t waiting for her to want him. He was waiting for her to need him.

When she actively began to seek contact by moving her hips toward him with the same circles that he was making on her lower back, he stopped and pulled away from her. But kept his palm on her back, not moving, just a firm downward pressure. Stay still. She started to lift her head and turn back, but he shushed her, murmuring words to sooth her and keep her relaxed. Her body eased back onto the desk and she stilled, though her breath remained fast and heavy.

Once she had done as she was told, he unbuttoned her kilt. Reaching underneath her, he felt for the buttons that secured her tweed kingsman tartan skirt. He felt her tense at this new progression so he spoke low and softly, how beautiful she was, how lovely she looked, to see her on his desk, that seeing her need aroused him. That she was perfect. As he spoke, he unbuttoned the two that secured the waistband. The last one that secured the overlap and lastly, unclasped the large pin that kept the kilt from blowing open. He had worn them before and was very familiar with their placement.

Not until she relaxed again, did he continue to unwrap the skirt from around her body.

“Lift your hips.”

She did so and he pulled the kilt from underneath her. She was lovely. Even more so just half unclothed was extremely arousing. Having her top half clothed only accentuated the bareness of her bottom half. He hardened at the sight of her, over his desk, half naked, simply waiting for him, allowing him to pleasure her and needing that pleasure.

His chair was already pulled out. He grabbed it by the handle and rolled it in front of her, well, behind her.

She lifted her head slightly, turning back at the sound of movement, when she saw that he meant to take a seat. Her eyes widened. He gave her a small half smile, half smirk like she gave him the night of the scotch glass. He spun his finger in a circle. Turn around. She did so, closing her eyes and resting her cheek to one side. Understanding that was she simply to wait, she held still and quiet. There was no doubt or uncertainty on her face by this time. Only desire, only need.

He walked away for a moment to reach the rest of his scotch when he looked back toward her. The sight of her with her eyes closed, her little fists and arms still tucked toward her chest was both breathtaking in its sensuality and heartbreaking in its vulnerability and trust. Taking a swallow of his drink, he set down his glass on the desk to her side, far enough away that it wouldn’t get knocked over if things got a little too heated, but close enough for him to still reach.

She was still covered with a black lace thong, minimal but still covered and her stockings, which he no longer had to ignore. Placing one hand on her hip, he pulled the chair closer underneath him and relaxed into it. He could feel the tremor of her excitement trembling along her thighs. The tiniest shiver continuously ran up and down the length of her legs.

He was confident in his skills as a lover. Years of practice honed his technique, just as it did with the rest of his training. But he sensed that he was going to get just as much pleasure from this as she was going to receive from him.

The smooth palm of his hands ran lightly down from the tops of her hips, over her bottom and down her legs. His fingers traced a line up the inside of her legs and thighs, almost touching her center, barely, like a pulse of air, floating up the line of her backside to the top of her hips. He repeated this movement, with unlimited variations, pausing in certain areas to linger, rubbing soft circles with his thumb, palming her flesh with his entire hand. He would purposefully hover over her core, almost touching every time, but moving on before she could close the space by shifting her hips. He was pleased to find that she was more than wet. Her need left her almost dripping and pulsing as she further open her legs for him. Muscles twitching and contracting involuntary when he skimmed over a sensitive area. She was responding the way he had hoped and expected and he was pleased.

He saw that her desire for contact rise through the almost constant leaning into his touch, his hand, his fingers. He continued to layer sensation upon sensation upon sensation. He rested the side of his face against the back of her thigh. She tensed suddenly at this unexpected change, but again, he just continued to touch and caress and stroke as if nothing had changed and felt her relax back onto the desk. He felt her start again when he added his mouth, his lips, his tongue, but then immediately her surprise transformed into yet again, pulses of desire. Her small moans and sighs were coming at a regular frequency, little cries that told him she was ready for more.

He decided it was time to intensify. Grazing at her opening with the back of his knuckles, wet through the mesh of her thong, he continued to use his mouth just to the side of his hand. Concentrating the sensation to this smaller area, but not specifically giving her the contact that she ultimately desired. He kissed and tongued and sucked the flesh around her, all over, everywhere but there.

Part of the pleasure of sex was the feeling of wanting, the process of asking, begging and the anticipation of waiting, ultimately knowing that gratification will come, but the tension of not knowing when and how, enhanced the wait.

He slid his fingers under the thin waistband of her thong and with aching slowness began to pull them down her hips, over her bottom and half way down her legs, to the top of her stockings. All of her trepidation, hesitation was gone. All that was left was her desire for him. For him to have her in all the ways he wanted and imagined. She let out a stronger moan of anticipation. Her thighs pulled the tiny slip of material tight across the distance between her legs, her need to continue to spread herself wider for him kept them from falling down.

Without the whisper of fabric between them now, he began the brush her lips with his knuckles, circle her with his thumb. At the direct contact, she cried out loudly. The sound of her continued to arouse him, but as he did before, he set his own arousal to the side, not ignoring it, but ignoring the desire to do something with it, to act on it, which would be to take her here and now and simply thrust into her until he came. Rather, he used that power and channeled it into every inch of her that he could possibly reach. His own desire, knowing it would not yet be sated, hummed in the background. He continued to pleasure her with his hands, just as she imagined he had with a glass of scotch in his hand. By her movements and her throaty whine told him that she recognised the movements, she was now literally feeling him with her own body, not just imagining him. When he finally slid a finger inside her, he felt her tense around him. He could feel her wetness grow.

But this time, he added his mouth.

——

Something inside of her had taken over, not only was Harry controlling the waves of heated pleasure crashing over her with increasing intensity, she was responding with a freedom and a willingness to surrender to his expert touch. Not holding back her need for more, to be touched more, to feel more of him. She was fully turned on and if he wanted to take her while she was in a panda suit, she would ask him where she could change. She was open to him and did not hesitate to express what she felt in response to what he was doing to her.

When she realised that he was using his hands, his fingers just like he was the night in the lounge, she was afraid that just the idea of it happening for real, might push her over the edge. Her mind kept flashing back to that evening, and even as she felt his fingers around her, touching her, circling her and then, oh God, finally, slipping into her, she could see his knowing stare, his cockiness at seeing her pleasure. But to see him in her mind and then feeling him behind her was intoxicating. She felt tipsy, like she had too much of Harry Hart, but she still wanted more.

She moved against his hand. She squeezed his finger as he moved it in tiny pulses deep within her. She was crying out with every breath now. Small whimpers of need, moans of pleasure, at times almost screaming with it. She couldn’t help it.

And then she felt something change. Not quite change. She felt something more. Something soft and hot as wet like she was. It was his mouth and she almost died when she realised it. If he didn’t stop what he was doing back there, she was going to come. She could feel it growing like a garden he was tending to with his lips wrapping around her own erect little bud. His velvet tongue sliding into her body, using his mouth, tasting her, devouring her. He was everywhere now. Though his hands, his mouth, his lips and tongue were concentrated on her most sensitive areas, she felt him with every surface of her body, with the tip of every nerve. With the same continuous movements, over and over he continued to suck, rub, circle and pulse, until her body started to tremble and tense and release and tense even more.

Even as her orgasm grew momentum like a wave moving to shore, Harry pulled away before it could crash until he saw that the wave had retreated back into the sea. But he maintained contact with her. He cupped her between her legs with his palm. Not moving, not sexually, but almost like he was hugging her or holding her until she settled. She didn’t have enough time to find it odd before she began to enjoy the pressure and the heat in an almost soothing, calming way. It was a touch that told her he was there.  Just in a very personal way, in a very intimate area.

If she had been standing now and he told her to bend over his desk, she would have hit the wood so hard and fast that she might have knocked herself out. As it was now, her entire being was waiting for it. Asking for it. Begging for it.

She felt him rise from his chair. His hand was still cupping her gently.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. There was a smile in his voice.

If she had the voice to call him a cocky bastard, she would have. Since she didn’t think she could actually form words, she replied with a sigh that turned into a moan.

“Good.” He paused. “Are you prepared to receive me?

Oh, god fuck, why did he have to say it like that?

Just the way he said it made her clench involuntarily. She nodded her head. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to speak because her throat was so dry she couldn’t make out any words. Luckily, this time, he took her lack of words, more as speechlessness in the moment, rather than reticence about the near future.

There was another whisper of a zipper being pulled down, a rustle of movement.

“So you’re not surprised.” He said.

She was confused for a split second. Surprised by what?

He reached for one of her hands and guided it toward him. She lifted up onto one elbow so she could brace herself. He placed her hand on his erection and then wrapped his hand over hers.

Fuck. She was screaming internally now. I’m touching it! He just put my hand on it. He’s in my hand. I’m holding him! Calling it “it” like she couldn’t even think that she had her palm around that part of him. She wrapped her fingers around as much as she could. Holding him felt like holding an iron bar wrapped in something smooth, pliant and warm. Not just warm. Hot. Her hand was burning. She wasn’t just surprised, she was slightly shocked. He was big. He was more than big. Thick and heavy. Has he been walking around with this the whole time? She had never had something that size inside of her before. Holy shit.

All the adrenaline surged again into her blood stream, her heart beat quickened and her blood poured into her core. What was left flooded her cheeks. Apparently, her body had no doubt she could accommodate a man of his size. Her hips were moving back to take him inside of her. One hand halted the move of her hips.

“Be still.” He said. “Allow me”. It was his way of telling her he was in control.

She stopped, but as she tried to spread her legs even further apart, thinking of the sheer size of him. He didn’t say I couldn’t move this way.

——

Harry didn’t want her moving back onto him. He would penetrate her properly, at the right pace and speed, with the right adjustments so his entry wasn’t painful for her. Women, in their haste, in their desire to please, and their eagerness for more, or excitement at his size, would often try to take him all at once, faster than they were ready for, making the experience unpleasant. It would burn and they would accept it as something to bear through, with the pain still lingering even as most of it subsided. Or men, focused on only their own need, would force themselves into their partner without finesse or technique. It was not that he was huge, he was just larger than average. He felt bigger to them because he knew how to use his properly.

She had shifted her legs wider. He had told her to be still, but he would let that slide since he did want her spread as wide as possible. She was definitely wet enough for both of them. More than enough for him to cover all of him. She cried out very loudly, when she felt him slide, not into her, but along the length of her as he coated himself. He could see that she was trying not to press into him.

Good girl, he thought.

He took his time, finally enjoying her slick hot wetness, the velvety the feel of her against his entire length. His own desire threatened to take over. How quick and simple it would be now. One quick, hard thrust and he would be fully into her. He twitched at the thought, but held fast, thinking, if a man treats a woman properly, he will have all the pleasure he can desire and more.

A gentleman, even during slightly kinky sex, Harry continued to pace himself. After he was just as slick as she was, using one hand to guide himself, the other hand pulled her bottom on one side, pulling her flesh away from her opening, and then the same to the other side. Holding his head firmly against her center, just the slightest pressure making her whimper and moan. He twitched again at the sound. Using his other hand to keep her pulled open, he slowly pressed into her, with a slight downward movement. He didn’t want to surprise her by slipping into the wrong hole. Once he made a little movement, he pulled out and repeated, making sure her skin wasn’t caught and dragged with him. He repeated this movement over and over, making sure she was sufficiently wet the entire time. On one of these pulses, his head slipped fully inside of her and locked into place. He stopped and let her simply feel him inside of her. She writhed before him, obviously stretched wide. He was most likely a size she had never taken before. She was very tight, extremely tight and even still squeezing him even harder, causing him to involuntary move inside of her as well. While he was still, while she was getting used to him inside of her, he took the time to just enjoy her in this space, in this position, being with her like this and being able to witness her surrender. It was truly an exquisite sight. He let his eyes travel over the soft skin of her back, the inward curve of her waist, the swell of her bottom. And the sight of him entering her, seeing her spread wide as she took him inside of her.

When her body began to relax and soften, making sure she was wet, using his hand to pull her open wider until he could push himself farther into her. Stopping when she again, cried out, this time louder, with more arousal, more pleasure, more intensity in her voice. Her spasms were more intense and this time he had to concentrate not to let her push him over his own edge. He kept himself in check, not thinking of something else, not distracting himself, but letting his own desire hum in the background. She had taken most of him. The only furrow in her brow was from pleasure that was close to pain, but not pain itself. He didn’t sense her tense or brace at all.

He glanced forward at the mirror and saw himself taking her. All men should be able to experience a woman like this, be with her in this way. But unfortunately, most men were only concerned with their own needs, never knowing the pleasure that one can receive, the possibilities that exist when a man properly attends to his woman. He always heard complaints about men’s wives or girlfriends, that they didn’t desire sex, or were frigid. He assumed that most men didn’t know how to satisfy a woman, and therefore, left without the opportunity for a true intimate physical relationship.

Simply attuning to the needs of a woman, no matter how reticent or hesitant, if they were assured, listened to, both their words and their actions, felt safe and protected and respected in a man’s company. Like Gwendolyn, could give and receive pleasure most men and women only fantasise about.

When her body told him she was ready, he made his final push into her. She received him like she was a wave on the ocean, her body fluid and relaxed and responsive with no resistance.

Perfect, he thought.

“Gwendolyn.” His own voice was now deep and rough and low. “Look in the mirror.”

When she looked up, he felt her spasm around him. At first she simply gazed at herself like she was an entirely new creature that she had never seen before, unrelated to her. So he pulsed a little within her and as he did so, she watched herself react in pleasure. He did it again. She responded.

He would have continued to move, but he held still with his entire length inside of her. He simply let her experience the intensity of purely having him inside her. Still. Motionless. While she had him inside of her, still looking in the mirror, she looked up at him, seeing everything. The way he stood close behind her, the flex of his forearms as his hands gripped the sides of her hips, his shirt, tie removed, unbuttoned down the front. The way his blood pulsed in the side of his neck, and then up to his face. To his eyes. And this time she caught his gaze and held it. Now her experience was heightened by this additional contact.

Sex wasn’t always about thrusting, hard and fast. Granted there are times when that movement takes precedence, but if that is all a man has under his belt, so to speak, he is denying himself and his partner a whole other world of pleasure. As he expected, just the stillness of him inside her, allowed her to experience him in a way she had never felt anyone else before him. For, through this kind of pairing, for the receiving partner, there is no other sensation that is akin to taking someone inside of them, of being opened and of being filled.

Their eyes were still locked. When she started to subtly roll her hips into him, he spread her one more time, from her bottom and from underneath, between her legs, pushing in so he was in contact with her little bud. Every inch of skin that had the possibly of touching him was firmly connected against him. There was plenty of her wetness to spread all around these areas that touched. With this contact in place, he placed his palms on her outer thighs and closed her legs around him as he pressed into her, his legs now behind and bracing hers. She would be in a better position to instinctively squeeze her knees and thighs together during climax, and have more contact with the front of his body.

Not quite so much thrusting, as it was rocking with her, he pushed against her without pulling out her, never losing the skin to skin contact between the front of his hips and the backs of hers.

She was calling out freely. He was glad it was late and there was no one to hear her except him because she sounded as beautiful as he thought she would. She held his gaze until finally, the pleasure was too much for her that she had to close her eyes. He kept his pace steady, only changing the angle of his movement inside of her, or rotating his hips into her in a circular motion, just as he did with his thumb, but this time with his entire pelvis.

---

Oh my dear god. She thought. Or did she scream it? She couldn’t tell. She was positively panting now. Oh, fuck. Oh, god. She felt as any control over her mind or her body was given over to Harry. She was completely helpless do to anything other than let her entire body tremble as waves of pleasure crashed over her. This time, rather stopping, he rode the waves to intensify them, until her the whole of her began to tense, her grip on to him tighter and her pleasure bore down on her. With one firm and final motion that now she pushed back on to fully, grinding her hips against him. Her orgasm began as she helplessly cried out his name over and over. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes and dampened her cheeks. She shuddered and arched back against him as she was overcome by a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, almost too much for her to bear. How could she ever have considered walking away from this? From this feeling, from this man. It was unthinkable. She spasmed against him longer and harder than she ever had before. More than she thought was physically possible. And, oh my god, still, it kept coming. She kept coming.

It was Harry. She had no doubt that no other man could have brought her to this level of pleasure, this state of existence, as Harry Hart. Not only because of the things he was doing to her physically, but because of who he was. Because of the man he was. Because it was him she was giving herself to. He was still fully inside of her, pushed up against her as deep as possible. She trembled around his entire length as she writhed in ecstasy. Over, and over and over. She was still crying out his name even as the last swell of unimaginable sensations crashed into her.

-----

When he felt her begin to climax, he thrust fully into her and held himself against her, but he released her hips so she could now move as freely as she wanted to. While she was overcome, he concentrated on her pleasure, how she looked how she moved. How his name sounded on her lips as she screamed because her experience was so intense it needed even another way to find release. The look of pain on her face, that was not from pain, but her desire finally realised fully and completely and thoroughly. He felt her pleasure just as deeply, but he didn’t let himself physically release, not yet. Not until the last spasm wracked through her. Not until she was done. It was a pleasure that was pain for him as well. Even though he wanted to close his eyes against it coursing through him, he kept watch on her, memorising every angle, very curve of her body, every expression on her face.

As she slowed and her body calmed, still inside of her, he folded his body over her own. His chest against her back. His face next to hers. He kissed the side of her face, her cheek, the line of her jaw. He smoothed her hair away from her forehead and rested his mouth there. Her skin was flushed and hot against his lips. He felt the wetness of her tears. Tears that she had never let herself cry in sadness or vulnerability, not in his presence, now dampened her cheeks when she let her self be overcome by him. He rested against her like this for as long as he was able after she had relaxed.

Her eyes remained closed. He brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand. With the intent to move with her permission, he asked.

“And my dear, how are you feeling, now?”

She responded simply, with such emotion, such feeling, the vulnerability and with notes of tenderness that he had never heard from her or ever heard in her voice.  With no defence she simply whispered his name with as much feeling and warmth as a thousand fires.

“Oh, Harry…”

It was all she said. But the sound of his name from her lips, in all of her vulnerability. That it would be his name that she would say first, touched him in a way that he had never been touched. In a place he had never been touched. It said to him, he was here in this moment with her. That, as he knew this experience was not about him, she recognised that her experience was not only her’s alone. That it was also his. And he knew this was the kind of connection that he was always searching for in relationships and in sex, but never felt at this level.

All of this manifested in his body as pleasure. For a man, one of the times he is most vulnerable is during sex. Most men will guard themselves and never achieve the full state of arousal that vulnerability will invite. However, if he is able to express that vulnerability, it will be the purest, most pleasurable sex with the most intense climax he will ever achieve. For Harry, that time was now. The experience was his. Every single fibre of his being, not just his length inside of her began to move both with her and within her again. Her cry only fanned the flame of his desire.

He wanted to feel her skin against his. He reached underneath her to unbutton her blouse. Realising what he wanted she lifted her chest to help him. Harry continued to unbutton the rest of his shirt and flung it to the side as he never did. The same time, Gwendolyn’s blouse slipped over the side of the desk. He leaned completely over her, feeling her nakedness as much with his entire body as he drank it in though his eyes. He slid one arm underneath her, his forearm around her chest, holding her even tighter into him as he pressed his himself into her bare back and shoulders. It was as if the closest he could get was still not close enough. His need was immense and the feel of her, being inside of her overcame him. He let himself thrust into her, giving into her and giving himself to her.

——

This was different, she thought. Harry was different. Even more different, if that was possible. It seemed like the more time she spent with him, the more of him was revealed and every time it was a revelation. He wasn’t simply finishing. This was much more. The feel of him was huge. Not only the part that was inside of her. Whatever he was feeling was huge, for him. When he was giving her pleasure, he remained in complete control. Impressively, so. Not that he wasn’t in control now, but there was a new element, a sensitivity, a receptivity. It was a willingness to receive as well as give. She knew that he enjoyed every moment with her, but this was different from enjoyment. Even more than lust or passion, though those were the physical elements. It felt like devotion. If cherishing someone could take on a physical expression, it would feel like this. She was moved by this even more than when he had his full attention on her physically and mentally. Before, he was making sure she had a wonderful, memorable experience. Now, he just wanted to experience her. Was it that she was losing herself to him? And him in her?

This was being together, she thought, before his movements, the feel of him, the heat of his skin against hers both inside of her and out, both pressing their entire length in to her an against her, carried her off with him. He rocked into her with a brutal passion, making her cries sound from the base of her throat.  His own jaw clenched in silence as she found herself responding just as fiercely, insisting, demanding more from him as she pushed her hips to meet his.

——

His other hand was everywhere. He wanted to feel her beneath his palm, her hair, her neck, her back, her side, her legs, her bottom. And the more he felt, the more he ached for her. The space between them was stormy, tumultuous, both experiencing from each other a pleasure that was so powerful it was almost violent. It wasn’t simply pleasure. A sensation so forceful, so overwhelming, it was at the cusp of unbearable. It was otherworldly. When he pushed her over the edge once more into her climax, as she convulsed helplessly against him, she cried out his name again and again with total abandon, just as fervently as before. The sound of his name from her lips, the way she pulsed around him and against him as she cried out, made him call out his own desire for her. It drove him far, far outside what he thought was his edge and crashed into heights of pleasure that was close to death. Together, they rose up and rode each swell and they came together. Over and over and over far beyond the realm of what they thought possible.

As it was, on that evening, two of the most guarded, reluctant and isolated hearts at Kingsman, lost, and then ultimately found themselves in each other.

----

I pretty much wrote all of my fanfic so I could justify writing this part about Harry Hart taking Gwendolyn over his desk :) Hope you enjoyed! Comments are always soooo appreciated. Especially for a newbie writer. Was it too long? Would it have been better in chapters? Cheers!

[ahsoka-lives]

Iris pt. 1

The Elevator  Inquisitor!Cal x Reader- Parts 2&3 are up now!

Word Count: 1417

Warnings: none. nosmutyet

A/n: I cannot write summaries to save my life but this is the first part of a series I’m doing for Cal because I love him sm and there just is not enough fics for him! Pleaseeee be gentle I haven't written in ages but I am open to constructive feedback. Ty!!!  I Forgot to put this in when I originally posted so I’m sorry about that but, the gif is NOT MINE. It’s by @calkesttiss​ 

   You considered yourself lucky. There were thousands of jobs to fill throughout the Empire, and you had managed to get one of the more comfortable ones. You were a droid technician on a remote imperial base where high ranking officers, special forces, and the ever-intriguing inquisitors lived when not doing the empire’s bidding. Unfortunately for you, there were more droids aboard the ship than people meaning your days were often busy. Each room was equipped with a kitchen droid and an automated laundry machine etc. Its a bit ridiculous, but you were in no position to make such comments. 

You had just finished your last appointment for the day, the light control panel had given out in someone’s office, and you were making the fairly long walk back to your living quarters. As you walked past the massive training room you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander over the last few who were still going at it at this hour. Your eyes linger on a man who was blocking blaster shots fired from a training droid with a staff. His back muscles flex with every subtle and not so subtle movement of his arms that were equally toned. You felt your breath catch in your throat when you caught a glimpse of his face. He was beautiful. His hair was a brilliant reddish-orange that contrasted well with his black training gear. His jaw was sharp and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. And his eyes were such a nice compliment to his freckles, a deep green that reflected the light emitted by the blaster, and oh they were staring right at you.

Oh, Gods. How long had it been since he realized you were being a creep! A blush burned into your cheeks as you quickly turned to continue down the hall as fast as you could without running. What was Wrong with you?? Why did you have to drool over the possibly very dangerous man who was training to be more dangerous? You sigh to yourself as you reach the elevator and quickly push the button and step inside. 

“Safe at last.” You mutter as you enter your floor code into the elevator pad. A light ding sounded and the doors began closing and they were so so close to shutting but you just weren’t that lucky. A hand shot between the doors causing them to hum open again. Tall and lean, the man you had been gawking at stepped in beside you. 

You stiffened and forced your eyes ahead of you, wanting to avoid all and any eye contact. You can’t believe your luck. All this time on this base and you had managed to keep yourself out of any distasteful situations. And now, here you are chest pumping, eyes frozen ahead of you and thinking of how quickly he could take you out. Hell, he was probably trained for it and the men(and women) who resided here did not handle disrespect well. You frequently had to repair damages caused by the temperamental and egotistical residents. You recall how defined his arms were as the thought of them being used to snap your neck crossed your mind, only to be interrupted by the feeling of someone standing unbelievably close to you. 

An arm was reaching over your shoulder with ease to input another floor causing you to gasp lightly. His chest was radiating warmth and it seeped across your shoulders and back. Before he could finish punching in his floor code you were shuffling away from him, putting as much space between you and his enticing warmth. 

“Sorry, I- I wasn’t paying attention.” The words just tumble from your lips before you catch your brain forming them. 

“Was I that distracting?” He muses now leaning against the elevator wall, relaxed and now he is the one staring. You feel his eyes burning holes into your head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Great plan. Just pretend nothing ever happened. You almost want to laugh at yourself. 

“Oh, so that was someone else’s heart I could feel pounding when I caught your eyes? Good to know.” You could practically hear the smirk forming on his lips. 

Bing! Sweet relief, how long was that elevator ride?? 

“No, sorry you must be mistaken.” You rush your words and hurry to get off but your wrist is caught in his warm and surprisingly comforting hand- you’re cursing yourself for your thoughts and turn to face him. You’re certain your heart had stopped all together now. He was so close. His eyes boring into yours as you tried to wipe the scared look off your face. 

“There’s no need to be afraid of me. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is deep and gentle as his eyes scan your face. He is so much prettier up close. His lips are a subtle pink and you can’t help but think how they might feel agains- Wait.. was he smirking again?

You snap out of it and you take your wrist from his grasp. You realize how flustered the elevator made you as you take in the free air. You also realize the man was now wearing a sweater, also black, but the most surprising was the symbol on the right side of his chest. He’s wearing the badge of an Inquisitor. 

“Are you always this quiet...” He pauses and leans a bit toward you to read your ID badge. “Y/n” He sighs your name testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes. A small smile creeps onto his face and steps back into the elevator, letting the doors seal and finally carry him away. 

You turn and rush to your room. You quickly lock the door behind you as if he would be knocking on your door at any moment. And if he wanted to, he could. Inquisitors are the highest ranking in the building. They lead the special forces units and the officers. They’re force-sensitive assassins with the utmost skill. Hell, some can even read minds. They each have their own private hall and keep mostly to themselves. They live by a different set of rules than the rest of us, they have more leeway to do as they please. It makes sense, with what they do for the empire, they must be kept content. 

But what did that mean for you? He had said he didn’t want to hurt you which is a good sign. 

You sigh and make your way to the shower. You turn on the water and let it warm up while you strip off your uniform. A simple pullover sweater and pants, your dress code was relaxed since you work where people live. You step under the warm water and let your brain unwind. Before you know it, your mind is back on the Inquisitor. Maker, he was pretty. Strong, agile but also somewhat kind and reserved. He gave off confidence but it wasn’t arrogance. Your mind wandered to his hands and how his touch felt against your skin, it made something swell inside of you that you almost didn’t recognize. 

You groaned and shook your head. You did Not want to end up being tied to an Inquisitor. Could they even be involved with someone? You tell yourself you shouldn’t even care because it was never going to happen. Why are you even assuming he wants anything to do with the girl he caught staring at him from across the room? 

After turning off the water and wrapping yourself in a towel you pick up your clothes to carry to your room. A light thud makes startles you, your ID had fallen from your sweater. You pick it up and glance over it, a nervousness comes over you as you remember that your badge not only says your name but your occupation and call number. 

How much attention had the Inquisitor paid to your badge? 

Beeeep boop beep!

A notification sounded on your tablet, someone booked an appointment with you. 

“Read it to me, B-5.” You call to your droid who was cooking dinner in your kitchen. 

“Appointment for Malfunctioning BD-1 Droid at 0900 Hours. Location: Floor level 7, Cal Kestis.” Your droid recites. “Would you like to see the full card, y/n?” 

“Sure pull it up, B-5” You couldn’t remember issuing anyone a BD-1 droid so they must have brought it in themselves. You go meet your droid companion in the kitchen and  there was the answer to your question, one of them anyways.

The Inquisitor paid great attention to your badge. 

[enrychan]

Burakovsky fanfiction recs

ok so I read every single Burakovsky fanfic on AO3 (no, really) and I started thinking about writing down a list of those I particularly appreciate. because the Patho fandom is tiny, and the Burakovsky fandom is even tinier, but there are a lot of incredible talents in it, and they deserve all the recognition we can muster.

I apologize to those who did not make it into this list, unfortunately I can’t read Russian (for now... that might change in the future😏) AND I have very specific tastes. Which is why some authors are repeated more than once (sorry!). Also I’m following at least a couple of beautiful fanfics that are currently unfinished, and I’m probably gonna include those in the next list.

You’re all extremely talented though, and I hope to read more of your works very soon (do I refresh the Burakovsky tag each day? yes I do)

anyway here’s my list, in no particular order! Enjoy all the love, hate, death and philosophy!🥰

In Vivo by meradorm. After a long silence, the Haruspex travels to the capital to seek out his old companion.

Arguably the best fanfics in the Patho fandom; and one of the best fanfics I’ve ever read. The writing style simulates the first translation of Patho Classic, which was weird and sometimes almost incomprehensible, but somehow it enhanced the odd, alien experience of the first game. Using this particular and sometimes difficult language, this fanfic gives the impression of being an integral part of the original story. The characters and the love story are beautiful and raw, sweet and cruel, and the ending is so... so perfectly Pathologic it makes me angry. Prepare lots&lots of tissues because you’re gonna cry your eyes out!

How cleverly the trap is made by Modlisznik. "My apologies." Daniil clears his throat. "Usually I reserve views like this for at least fourth, maybe fifth date."

Ok yes I’m going to recommend a lot of fanfics by Modlisznik, I just really really like their style. This is one of my favorites because Daniil is so in character, trying his best to appear strong even while in pain and almost blind with one of his migraines... and I’m always weak for Artemy being sweet and caring for Daniil. Just *chef’s kiss* excellent

Of the Town and the Steppe by Modlisznik. Artemy wonders how Daniil feels about this vastness, autumnal grass as far as the eye can see, the sky so clear, hanging so low, so close you can almost touch it, you can almost get swallowed whole. Insignificant, a little speckle on the face of Earth. Daniil is a creature of the city, Artemy thinks, of clear boundaries, of walls to hide behind, of places to be alone in. He must feel exposed. I'm a bad host, Artemy thinks.

Just a romantic, intimate moment between our two idiots out in the steppe. Daniil imagining all the places in the Capital he would like to show Artemy is so unbearably sweet I think I’ve cavities now. Totally worth it though.

All about Blood by Modlisznik. Daniil is aware that Isidor has been murdered just a few days ago. That his memory is still fresh, his touch lingers in this place. That Daniil, an intruder, shouldn't come down here to Isidor’s workshop - his laboratory - his sanctum - and most certainly, he shouldn't be here to fuck Isidor’s son. Even less, to use the elder Burakh's table for that purpose. He's aware of that. He also doesn't care.

Hot damn. This fanfics pushes all my buttons at once and then dances on the keyboard just to be sure. Artemy/Daniil kinky sex? Check. On the stone table in Artemy’s lab? Check. Subtle power games between the two? Check. Artemy marking Daniil with his blood? Check. A sprinkle of bondage just to spice things up a bit? Check. Um... is it just me or it’s kind of hot in here?

The Line of Red by Modlisznik. Bachelor Dankovsky does not believe in luck. Artemy wants him to understand, that the charm he's offering will protect him - just not in the way Daniil thinks it does.

Another sweet moment brought to you by or Official Sweetheart Artemy Burakh: Artemy wants to give Daniil something to remind him that he’s not alone, even in his darkest moments, that Artemy is his tagloor. Daniil doesn’t understand all that steppe folklore, but recognizes a precious gift when he’s given one.

Something old, something new by Modlisznik. In which Artemy considers the importance of not being watched, and Murky's doll needs urgent medical attention.

Just an adorable fanfic and a joy to read from start to finish. Artemy is best dad, Murky is best daughter, Daniil is back with a new title, and I’m always ready for some teary-eyed happy reunions.

Bloodflood by Xyloto. A flood of blood to the heart.

Artemy is used to be on top, and the relative new experience of being on the receiving end doesn’t start particularly well for him, but he is determined to let Daniil have what he wants. Daniil has other ideas on the matter. I have a thing for “top that bottoms for his bottom”, and especially in this case because this fanfic is written beautifully. It keeps all the more abrasive traits of Artemy’s personality&speech, while remaining very sweet and romantic somehow.

A Curse Befalls Your Heart by CurrieBelle. Daniil Dankovsky suffers from a Steppe curse. Burakh performs triage.

Speaking of sweet and romantic, are you ready for a good bucket of literal honey? This is my comfort fanfic, the one I return to every once in a while when I need something soft and lovely to shut off my brain. Not only that, but the story is awesome too, because it is based on an actual canon curse in the Patho lore. Remember when Anna Angel was cursed with the “returning heart” in Patho 2? What if something similar happened to Daniil? Luckily, Artemy is there to help.

Ode to the Body by kylee. In which Bachelor and Haruspex flatter each other shamelessly.

The Powers That Be have always destroyed Daniil’s self esteem by reducing him to a list of failures. Artemy wants him to understand that he’s not just his failures, nor his accomplishments, but so much more. Sex ensues. Praise kink anyone??? (yes please)

life overflowing by Yellow. Artemy needs someone to look at what he's done, to see he's done well, to take over for him, his head and his heart. just for a little while.

This is both lovely and kind of heartbreaking, with some suicidal tendencies/ideation? I feel it is completely appropriate after all Artemy has gone through by this point in the story. But Daniil doesn’t have any intention of letting him go.

Vae Soli by Adoxography. Daniil becomes Artemy's unwilling caretaker when Artemy is infected with the Sand Pest and is forced to take a Shmowder to cure himself, or die in the attempt.

There are a lot of sick fics in the Patho fandom (obviously), but I particularly love this one because it doesn’t embellish the pitiful state of Artemy, caught between two terrible ailments, nor makes Daniil appear too soft and generous. There is rivalry between the two idiots (as it should be), but also trust and even some attraction on Daniil’s part. In other words, it rings true and believable!

sub derma by Jagged. Dankovsky takes to the Town better than he thinks, but less than he'd like. Artemy would know.

Super sexy fanfic! dom!Daniil turns Artemy on with some pain play which Artemy is only too happy to be subjected to. I just love the power dynamic between the two, it’s visceral and even a little bit cruel at times, but the absolute trust they have in each other makes everything weirdly romantic.

foreign bodies by hoverbun. They have some time to themselves between dissections and the sharing of alms.

So it turns out that I also have a Thing for fics about shaving. apparently??? Artemy has some free time and a beard to get rid of. He asks Daniil for help with that. And everyone knows there are few things sexier than a hot doctor with a very sharp blade pointed at your throat!

I hope you blink before I do by vespirus. Maybe he was fated to gravitate towards men like these; the men with loose morals, the men who understood what it meant to be an arbiter of life and death decisions, the men who felt the weight of the future on their shoulders. Or maybe he just had an inescapable interest in the macabre.

AU fanfic about Daniil as an unscrupulous researcher and Artemy as a medical undergraduate willing to kill to make enough money to keep living and studying in the Capital. In other words they are both horrible people, and the tension between them is so thick you could slice it with a knife. There also a sequel, but it’s a death fic and I personally don’t like that. I hope the author will write an alternative ending where they become an awesome couple of gay criminals in love sooner or later!

[elletromil]

Collect moments, not things

So some of you might remember Love is a fabric which never fades, that fic where Harry was dragon and pining after Eggsy.

I was always supposed to write this fic too, where instead of Harry being a dragon, Eggsy was the dragon with the hoard. (And a third one where they both are dragons and hopefully this one won’t take 5 years too xp). And well, inspiration and motivation have slowly been coming back to me this week and I managed to finish this one :D

I hope you all enjoy!

Collect moments, not things

When he finally figures out what Eggsy’s hoard is comprised of, Harry feels a bit like an idiot.

Not that it’s particularly obvious at a first glance, but they have been living together for a few months now. And yes, they’ve both been sent on a couple different missions during that time, but that’s still no excuse to how unobservant he has been.

He’s supposed to be a bloody spy. He should have picked up on Eggsy’s habit sooner than he did.

And it doesn’t soothe his pride that it only truly registered when Eggsy asked him for a pen one evening after the one he was using ran out of ink.

The worse is, he can only blame himself for taking so long at figuring out what was Eggsy’s hoard.

Not only is Eggsy not hiding it in any way, he has also made it very clear that he was comfortable answering any questions Harry could have about dragon culture. Or if he wasn’t, that he wouldn’t hesitate to tell him to fuck off.

Whatever hero-worship Eggsy once had for him is long gone and quite frankly, Harry much prefers it that way.

However in Harry’s defense, there is also a perfectly sensible reason why he didn’t want to ask Eggsy about this particular thing.

While his friendship with James had not made him an expert on dragons at all, he’s still picked up on a few things over the years.

Especially on the romance side given the fact that James had very publicly courte Richard and Richard, while not a dragon himself, had taken it as a challenge, one he was very set on winning.

Considering the two ended up married within a year of being introduced to each other, he’s certain Richard did consider himself the winner.

Much like James did.

All this to say, he’s very much aware of just how important a part a dragon’s hoard plays when it comes to such things as courting.

And he very much wants Eggsy to not only feel like Harry accepts and welcomes every aspects of his heritage, but that Harry loves him for it.

After all, it is part of what makes Eggsy, well, Eggsy, just like his gaudy vests and winged shoes or like his liking for medical dramas or like his unwavering loyalty to someone once that person has earned it.

So yes, Harry wants Eggsy to know that Harry is willing to learn. That he is willing to put in the work to make their relationship work. Which, admittedly, he would have done exactly the same had Eggsy been simply human like him, but since he’s not, Harry can’t just ignore that part of his lover.

And hoards… Well hoards are a damn essential part of being a dragon.

It’s their most prized possessions. They can go to war over one.

There’s not bigger honor than to be trusted with any part of it. Or be included in it in any way.

So while he really wasn’t expecting Eggsy to hoard paper of all things, who is he to judge? It’s not the same thing, but Harry does collect dead butterflies and other bugs.

So now he’s got to think of a suitable addition to Eggsy’s hoard, one that would remind him of Harry and hope that Eggsy will accept it.

Because even if Harry doesn’t wish to be married within the year, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about it already.

***

As he looks over the newest addition in the hidden space of the sitting room, Harry is suddenly stricken by the fear that maybe, this is a bit much.

After all, he’s not even sure Eggsy will accept the first part of his gift and now he’s also trying to change where Eggsy will keep his hoard. It doesn’t matter that this new fireproof safe is one the best on the market, it’s really not Harry’s place to tell Eggsy how to protect his hoard.

Of course that’s the precise moment Eggsy comes home.

Slightly panicked, he close the door to the safe over what really is his gift, but doesn’t have the time to do anything about the fake wall before Eggsy finds him in the room.

“Didn’t know you were getting a new safe,” he safe in lieu of a greeting, pressing close to his back, arms wrapping around his waist. It would take a stronger man than Harry Hart is to not lean back in him.

“Actually, this is for you,” he admits after turning into the embrace just enough to press a kiss to Eggsy’s cheek.

“Oh?” Eggsy lets him go and steps closer to take a better look, but he doesn’t seem angry or insulted, merely curious, which is kind of reassuring. “Fuck me, Harry! That’s like the latest model on the market. It cost a fortune!” Not entirely accurate, but Harry will agree that if it wasn’t for Kingsman more than generous salary, he probably would never have considered that particular safe. “Not that I don’t appreciate,” Eggsy adds quickly, “but you know the one you let me have in the office does the job too?”

He still doesn’t look mad in any way, just slightly confused. Harry can work with confusion.

“Well yes, but also no, considering what you’re keeping in there. The safe in the office wasn’t made with fireproofing as the main characteristic. This one was. And well, it’s considerably bigger and you were bond to run out of place sometime soon.”

He hasn’t checked of course. While he certainly could, what with Eggsy’s current safe being Harry’s first and his training as a spy, they both respect each other’s need to keep some thing private from the other.

But Eggsy has never tried to hide the papers he put in every night and so Harry doesn’t feel bad about making that educated guess.

Eggsy doesn’t seem to mind either if his pleased smile and the sweet blush spreading on his cheeks is any indication.

And as if to prove Harry just how stupid he had been for worrying about him not liking his gift, Eggsy steps on his tiptoes so he can kiss his cheek. “Thank you Harry. That’s- that’s one of the more thoughtful thing anyone has given me.”

He’s still standing close so Harry is the one to wrap his arms around him this time and hold him tight. They stand like that for some time, enjoying the peaceful moment.

Then Harry remembers that the safe wasn’t even originally part of the gift he had planned to make and slowly walks them close enough that he can open it.

Or at least, attempt to open it. The endeavour is slightly hindered by the fact that Eggsy is refusing to step out of his embrace. And to be honest, Harry doesn’t truly want to let go either.

After longer than his pride could take it if not for the quiet chuckles Eggsy unsuccessfully muffle against his shoulder, the safe is opened once more.

Eggsy stops laughing as soon as he glances inside, gasping softly. “It this-” He doesn’t finish whatever he was trying to ask, his hands reaching towards the safe before he stops himself, fingers clenching into fists.

Harry presses a kiss against his temple before taking hold of his hands and laying them on the first colourful pile.

“This is for you, yes. All of it.”

Carefully, with something akin to reverence, Eggsy takes the first sheet to inspect it closer. It’s one of the simpler paper Harry has bought him, a very light blue without any texture. What makes it deserve a place among all the different papers he’s been buying for Eggsy over the last couple of weeks however is the subtle golden watermark of a butterfly at the bottom of the page.

Eggsy notices it immediately of course and trails a gentle finger over the design.

“I’m… I’m not sure if this is okay. I hope it is. That you will accept this gift even if it’s a bit selfish of me. But I really want you to have a little part of me in your hoard.”

Whatever reaction Harry was expecting from Eggsy over his gift, it wasn’t for him to burst out into laughters. It’s a good thing for his ego that he can tell there is nothing mocking in it, but he’s still not sure how he should take it.

Thankfully, Eggsy doesn’t laugh for long and after putting the sheet of paper back in the safe, he turns around and tugs Harry down into a deep kiss.

“I love you so much Harry,” he says after they’ve caught their breath again, “but you’re an idiot if you think you’re not already part of my hoard.” Only the kisses he peppers along his jawline prevents Harry from feeling insulted.

“What do you mean, I’m already part of it?” Try as he might, he can’t think of any instance he gave some kind of paper to Eggsy. Not even a post-it note or a grocery list.

“You think I’m hoarding paper right?” Eggsy annoyingly answers with a question of his own.

“Aren't you?” Two can play the game and Eggsy snorts with amusement at how petulant Harry sounds.

“Nope, not really.” It’s more devastating than he thought it would be to find that that he was mistaken about that. To realise that he obviously doesn’t know Eggsy as well as he should. Before shame can get a good hold on his heart heart however, Eggsy cups his cheeks in his hands and presses their foreheads together. “But even dragons would have made the same assumption you did. And the only reason it’s not really my hoard is simply because I learned very young it was best not to keep anything physical.”

He frowns at that, partly in confusion, partly because it wakens an old guilt in him, the one he will carry to his tomb for having failed to protect Eggsy as he probably should have after Lee’s passing. Eggsy must feel it because he huffs in mild rebuke before letting him go.

“Come on, let me show you.”

Harry lets himself get dragged upstairs to their shared office without protesting, consciously pushing back the guilt as he tries instead to figure out what exactly could be Eggsy’s hoard if it’s not really paper. The ink maybe? But that’s physical too…

Then Eggsy puts a few sheets of paper in his hands.

“Come on, read them.” His expression is a worrying mix of dread and excitement, but there is also the familiar set in his jaw that means he won’t budge from his position and so Harry doesn’t try to tell him they don’t have to do this now. Or ever really.

There doesn’t seem to be anything special about the paper in his hands. He thinks he can even spots a few napkins inside the safe before he refocus his attention on the words that are written on the pages he’s holding. Eggsy told him to read after all.

Each sheet has a date and a few sentences neatly written over them.

-

July 27th

Came back from a mission in the middle of the night. Harry was fast asleep. But when I got into bed, he still rolled over to hold me without ever waking up.

-

November 2nd

Harry ordered from the new Indian place tonight. Best food ever.

-

November 16th

Went on a walk with Harry. I forgot my gloves. Harry gave me one of his and then we hold hands the whole way.

-

March 4th

Harry and Daisy made cupcakes. There was flour everywhere. I am never leaving them unattended in the kitchen again.

-

They all read like journal entries.

Like short capsules of happiness that happened on a particular day.

“Eggsy?” He’s not sure what he’s asking because he fears that he’s only seeing what he wants to see.

“Memories,” Eggsy answers anyway in a quiet voice. “That’s what I’m hoarding. All the happy ones.”

There’s something shy to his smile now, so very different from his usual confident grin and Harry simply has to kiss him.

And as Eggsy all but melts into the contact, Harry swears to himself that every day they spend together will bring so many happy moments to Eggsy that he won’t know what to do with them all.

[scoundrels-in-love]

This is for @smilesofspring​ but if someone else wants a truly obnoxious in length Korean sort of indie* music rec list... Click that read more.

Also huge shout out and all the love to @youholdthewater​ who introduced me to SO many of these songs. I’ve definitely forgotten to include some gems and that’s on me.

*May contain traces of rock and a bit of pop

Gotta start off with Jaurim. I love them, I really do. There is power, there’s softness, there’s feeling that gets me right in the chest. Some suggestions: 있지 (It is), 스물다섯, 스물하나  (Twenty-five, twenty-one [Good-bye, grief]), A thorn tree [cover], Gloomy Sunday [cover]

Day6. Logically, they should’ve been the first, because they’re my favorite band, but they’re less Indie, more rock and well... Everything else, including indie. From power ballads to things bordering metal, to disco sound, they have it all, and they make it theirs. Also worth checking out Young K’s covers and aeJ’s original songs that might hit more of the indie variety. Some suggestions: Colors, Zombie, Stop the Rain, Days gone by, Goodbye Winter, All alone, I need somebody [please stop me, I could go on forever]

Hyukoh is a brand of its own, in a way. A world to explore. Some suggestions: Momom, Gondry,

Lee Hi is not indie, technically, but there’s something very soft, yet powerful about her music that puts her further away from pop, in my opinion. She just Is. Some suggestions: Holo, Breathe, XI

Heize, just as in the case with Lee Hi, technically pop music, but she goes so soft and quite unique in it that I think she deserves to be here. Plus, her videos are a PLEASURE to watch just for sheer artistry. Some suggestions: First Sight, 비도 오고 그래서 (You, Clouds, Rain), Jenga

Jun Bum Sun And The Yangbans - didn’t realize how much I liked them till I kept adding more of their songs to the Misc list below, so they got bumped up to here and for a REASON. Soulful, gritty and yet subtle. Some suggestions: 구운몽 (The Cloud Dream of The Nine),  끝사랑  (Last Love), 설레임 (The Seven Year Itch)

Iz the Band are little known, for some unfathomable reason, but producing absolute BANGERS most of the time. Can’t skip over reccing them!! Some suggestions: Eden, Final Kiss, Memento,

Bandage the Band debuted just this year, but they already have some quite memorable songs that have pressed into my mind and I think they deserve their special, highlighted mention. Some suggestions: Invisibles, Coloring the life, Heaven

Lee Hyori - although definitely not indie, there’s quite unique and absolutely hypnotic (to me) sound to her and these two songs mean the world to me, though definitely worth exploring beyond that. Some suggestions: Seoul, Black

Miscellaneous single song recs. Some of them have under 10k video views, on first/main video, so you don’t get more indie/unknown than that, much. But I love them.

I didn’t post the original Hangul of all the song titles/artists, my apologies. Some of them just don’t have them listed for every song or I got a lil overwhelmed with copypasta, which is no excuse! [Wanted to organize this, but then I realized what tremendous job it’d be, so it’s just in chaotic order of however I recalled and pasted them.]

San Francisco - Nine9, Dear cloud Butter Chicken - Ooohyo 너에게 하고 싶은 얘기- Jang Pil Soon [Unfortunately, video with sweet, touching lyric translation has been taken down] Anbu - Lee Sun Hee, Chanyeol Like the sun - Ha Hyun Woo In the rain - NICE [actually couldn’t find this on youtube, only spotify] Close - Ha Hyunsang Dear - Yellow Monsters Vodka Rain - 그 어떤 말로도 이립(迤立) - 무제 부탁해  - Dear cloud Our night - 프롬 (Fromm) 반짝이던 안녕 (Our Sparkling Beginning) - 프롬 (Fromm) 백야(White night) - 짙은(zitten) Vain Hope(희망고문) - Nell(넬) 너는 그대로 빛난다 (Shine We Are) - 지산 (Jisan) Deli Sauce - Chau Chau 다르다는 것 (Blind) - 어반자카파 (URBAN ZAKAPA) Casette - Demian Stay Here - Gaho Confession - Delispice 꿈꿀 수 있다면 어디라도 (Map of Dreams) - 김사월 (Kim Sawol) 어제 오늘 내일 (Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow) - Kevin Oh Everything - The Black Skirts Love Die Young - Eric Nam [Literally has been worked into one of my fic titles, that’s how you know that stuff tracked with me] Life sucks - HA:TFELT [tw: blood] 가로수 그늘 아래 서면  (Standing Under The Shade of Roadside Tree)- Lee Moon Sae Scenery - Ashmute Sometimes I hear Howlin’ in my head - Dean 깊은 밤 안개 속 (A Heavy Night Fog) - 3호선 버터플라이 (3rd Line Butterfly) 헤어지는 날 바로 오늘 - 3호선 버터플라이 (3rd Line Butterfly) 사랑하나 (One Love)- 김필 (Kim Feel) Flower  - Corona (코로나) 이랑 イ・ラン - 임진강 イムジン河 Dancing in the rain - Rad museum  숨, 쉼, 섬 (Breathing, Rest, Island) -  지산 (Jisan) Borders - Amber 친구에서 연인 - STANDING EGG

Some OSTs I can’t get enough of! Though they deserve to be list of their own

Ghost In Your Mind - Kim Feel Sattelite - Saltnpaper 김윤아 - Kim Yoon Ah [Singer of Jaurim, so!! Yeah] Voice - Kim Yoon Ah Days and moons - Elsa Kopf Thousand Times - Samuel Round and round - Heize

Annnd... That’s definitely NOT it, but I think I should stop or can’t remember titles/details of some songs I’d want to read.

[barefoot-pianist]

Les Mis – Sondheim Theatre (New Production) – 28/01/20

** HUGE HUGE SPOILER ALERT! CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED**

**second disclaimer: it is nearly half midnight and I’ve been on the go since 5:30am, please forgive rambling, meta commentary to myself, and bad grammar. I just wanted to get this all out whilst it was still fresh**

General

YES the new staging was 90% a hit. I liked it. It was great to see Les Mis performed in a radically different way, I think, and enough was kept (like, for example, the basic structure of One Day More) that it didn’t feel totally alien and I didn’t miss the turntable all that much?. The opening scene is now on a ship, rather than in a mine. More on specific stagings below.

THE. SET. WAS. BEAUTIFUL. There is literally no other word for it. The original Les Mis set is quite minimalist, I think, whereas this one was lush – heavily centred on the idea of houses, which really gave more of a feel to the Paris streets. They had tenements and posh houses, the barricade was still huge, don’t worry, and they had a staircase which was in the café and the Thenardiers’ inn, etc. The scale really worked as well – like in Who Am I, the courtroom felt enormous as opposed to the little mobile thing they had before.

A preface to this point is that I don’t think I’m the right person to offer a critical commentary on race & the cast of Les Mis, but I think it is worth flagging – will 100% defer to folks with more experience/expertise. There were four black cast members – Éponine, Gavroche, and two of the chorus, which is way more than I’ve ever seen in the West End in this damn show. I’m under no illusions that Les Mis in the UK hasn’t got a bit of a problem with race. It is slowly inching its way better – when the Bishop came out and he was black right at the beginning I had a moment of “finally? Are they finally doing this right?” but the diversity wasn’t quite as much as I’d hoped. Especially as in my head, I’ve developed a huge, very multi-racial dream cast for the show, so…yeah. I’d love to see some of the characters who always get played by white people played by folks of colour – Enjolras, for example, Grantaire, Valjean himself. Or have both Éponine and Cosette be not white? For once? This would be great? Please let me know what you all think?? (this is West-End specific, I know there have been some productions working on this elsewhere).

The general mood seemed a bit darker? More violent? Perhaps that was the updated lights and set, idk, but more fake blood abounded I felt, and yeah – more actual deliberate fight scenes. It worked, ngl, the world feels like it’s gotten to a darker place, and the new Les Mis reflects that in a way, doesn’t gloss over the violence. Again, I think more thinking will let me know what I actually think about this, but we’ll see.

ONTO SPECIFIC CHARACTERS & SCENES!

Valjean

·       Jon Robyns – he was brilliant, like, nearly as good as my holy grail (Killian Donnelly). Voice incredibly on-point – I’ve seen some Valjeans with really harsh voices which I don’t think fits the character – his Bring Him Home started so softly and gently and then really soared (until some twat decided to take a FLASH PHOTOGRAPH of him mid-song, whoever it was should have been ASHAMED of themselves).

·       He was so sweet with little Cosette! At the end of the curtain call, he and the actress had their own mini bow and then hugged, and he carried her off into the wings.

·       He really made more of Valjean’s physicality than other actors I’ve seen – perhaps to do with staging too – but his and Javert’s interactions were much more physical, violent, and in your face than they have been. It wasn’t OTT on his end I don’t think, but you definitely got the sense that he was trying to rein himself in and that the violence was still there? You know? But ofc NEVER towards Cosette or anyone unlike SOME adaptations I could mention (yes I am still bitter about the BBC trashfire, sorry to anyone who liked it but eh, imho, gross).

·       At the end, he and the Bishop have a hug in heaven! It was very sweet!

Javert

·       This is the second time I’ve seen Bradley Jaden in the role of Javert and I am a blessed human being (really want to take my Dad to see him too) because he has officially ruined every other Javert for me. Like ever. His characterisation feels very book Javert, very stern and uncompromising but more so than other Javerts, idk, it’s just his sheer stage presence as well, and his facial expressions and his general look…I can’t put my finger on it. He’s just phenomenal.

·       Stars was on this beautiful Parisian bridge (fake stone balustrade-style complete with four hanging lanterns) that came down from the flies, incredible backdrop, and he just brought the house down again.

·       Ngl – they have him actually holding a legit chain during the Confrontation and maybe I’ve read too much ship fic, but it certainly gives a whole new dimension to the line “Msieur le maire, you’ll wear a different chain!” Also especially as the Confrontation was so much more physical as well, they were properly fighting each other instead of just circling.

·       He was much more bloodied at the barricade, and there was this moment where he was being taken offstage as a prisoner and he’s on his knees in front of Enjolras, who’s very blonde hair is all you could see from where I was sitting, and they’re both in a spotlight, and the mood just really reminded me of the dynamic in the fic Les Hommes de la Misericorde by Kchan88 (which is great and you should read if you want to).

·       After the barricade, they incorporated that heartbreaking idea from the movie – Gavroche is lying dead in the front of the stage and Javert bends down to shut his eyes and crosses himself. There’s then a total reversal of the moment with Enjolras described above, but I’ll get to that in more detail in the Enjolras section.

·       In Javert’s Suicide, he did the complete breakdown thing again – which worked as he actually had blood on his face and long hair loose everywhere from the barricade scenes. Back on the pretty bridge, which split in two and he legit FLEW for the drowning scenes, so was thrashing suspended in midair as the lights and backdrop swirled around and behind him. That was something special.

Fantine

·       The one, the only, the Carrie Hope! She played a very understated Fantine? Which…I liked more than I thought I would? Like the voice came out at the end of I Dreamed a Dream, Lovely Ladies etc, but she was so…controlled? It perhaps felt odd after seeing her as Éponine and Veronica in Heathers where she let loose a lot more, but her Fantine just felt a little more mature, a little more resigned?

·       Her Fantine also gets put through the bloody wringer, jeez – the fight with the factory woman is much more physical (and when I say more physical, I actually think they were properly choreographed?) and with Bamabatois, who is just as grim but less slimy than the last actor I saw play him?

·       I’d kind of almost forgotten about her by the time she came out as a ghost at the end, but that bit was lovely, as it always is.

Éponine

·       Shan Ako was a scene stealer. Bloody hell she can sing – she put some pretty riffs in On My Own (small, but noticeable if you know the song) and her belting voice was unbelievable.

·       With the new set, you really get a feel of the Gorbeau tenement – she’s hanging around up there a bit. Also in Attack on the Rue Plumet, with the set the way it is (a house with a wrought iron balcony and a door, with the gate and fence extending out towards centre stage) you again get a feel for the scene in the book when Éponine basically says to her father and his gang that they’re dogs but she’s a wolf and she’s not afraid of them because she’s standing guarding the door with her arms wide…yeah, it really worked.

·       She and Gavroche are either friends or it’s a subtle nod to their siblinghood, as they fist bump right when Gav introduces Éponine.

·       On My Own was a tour de force – second standout of the night after Stars, for me.

·       Her A Little Fall of Rain was also gorgeous, and she had a real fizz with Marius, which was cute.

·       A rather large niggle – Shan Ako is black, and Young Éponine was white. Perhaps there was a last-minute emergency, but surely they could have got a little black actress to play Young Éponine? Idk, it just bothered me.

Cosette & Marius

·       Oh my god, Harry Apps as Marius – he Pontmercied around the place, and was so awkward and adorable! In Éponine’s errand, when he tried to go up the stairs, he banged into the set! During his bit in Red and Black he gets up on the staircase and starts full on declaiming, arms wide etc. His scene with Cosette in Heart Full of Love was gorgeous – he chucks a stone at her window, and she comes out, sees him, and disappears and he’s like “oh god I’m doing everything all wrong” and then she comes hurtling out of the front door instead and then stops and they stare at each other and it’s so cute! And then he’s just so self-conscious for the entire scene? And what’s so interesting is in the reprise at the end and the wedding, he’s so much more sure of himself – I really loved all the little nuances like that?

·       He’s also really young! He’s the complete unknown they cast off the open auditions for the UK tour, and he is bloody amazing – totally deserved that!

·       Lily Kerhoas was very charming as Cosette. I adore the character, but sometimes actresses play her too girly, which drives me a bit nuts, but she managed to pull off young/innocent/naïve/very soprano with a bit of practicality, heart, and edge. And there was a great moment when she and Éponine are both in the garden after, and getting that look in at each other without the gate in the way was really powerful.

·       Cosette and Marius had chemistry! It was lovely!

·       Empty Chairs – wow. So basically Turning (my underrated fave) was a range of women dressed in black who leave candles dotted all over the stage. Marius sings Empty Chairs surrounded by them, and (you guessed it) the dead Amis come in and all pick one up and Marius does too, and then they blow them out and leave and Marius is left holding the only lit one and blows it out then raises it like a toast and WOW MY FEELINGS WERE NOT PREPARED.

 Gavroche

·       This kid STOLE THE SHOW. LITERALLY. He was black too (like Éponine) and they had a proper little thing going, it felt like it really drew on the brother-sister Brick canon. He also felt very book-Gavroche, so cheeky and so serious at times.

·       They’ve changed his first set of lyrics in Look Down to be those from the movie, which…sure. Worked.

·       OKAY – in The Robbery, when Javert is like “everyone about your business/clear this garbage off the street” everyone scatters APART FROM GAV who’s pootling around behind Javert yelling “go on! You heard the man! Go away, even you!” and then when Javert turns to face him, Gav just does this irreverent little salute and saunters offstage and Javert just…lets him?? It was a FANTASTIC moment.

·       At the barricade when Gavroche busts Javert’s disguise, he goes right up to him and on “this only goes to show what little people can do” just cheerfully gives Javert a big old middle finger. Which was SO GREAT.

·       When Éponine is dying, he spends most of a little fall of rain loitering next to Marius and not really knowing what to do and my heart just BROKE.

·       He and Grantaire had a cute bromance going – after Drink With Me, when Grantaire nonverbally tells Enjolras to go fuck off and goes off to the side of the stage, Gavroche just goes over to him and starts hugging his back, and then they have a cuddle on the side of the stage together for Marius’ solo.

·       Because no turntable – Gav didn’t die alone on the other side of the barricade, he makes it just back to the top, gets shot with the bright white light (which they kept) and then just falls over into Enjolras’ arms, who then carries him down the barricade and puts him in Grantaire’s arms who just stands there, centre-stage, cradling a dead Gavroche for a few minutes before lying him down at the front of the stage.

·       At the end, Gavroche gets dumped unceremoniously into the cart with dead Enjolras and idk, it’s just a moment.

Enjolras

·       Right – instant disclaimer that I am incredibly biased and Hyoie O’Grady is and will forever be my Enjolras and I measure everyone against his performance.

·       This guy, Ashley Gilmour, – mostly had the look and the hair and general icy beauty. I was initially disappointed with his voice, but he did grow on me – he just really didn’t have the presence I associate with a great Enjolras. This was especially evident in the speech bits like in Red and Black?. Like, you know they’re not right for the role when you don’t particularly have much to write home about. Maybe I’m being unfair – other people who’ve seen him – what do you think?

·       The one bit of changed staging I didn’t like was Do You Hear the People Sing. I think Enjolras being towed around on the cart (which did come back during the beginning of the barricade) gives the song the momentum it needs & deserves? Whereas they were just marching round a staircase they’d shoved in the middle of the stage which Feuilly got up on for his verse, so…

·       Aside from a few handclasps, there was basically no E/R. Not even a hug during Drink With Me. It wasn’t even like “no homo” bullshit whatever, it just…didn’t happen. Actors didn’t have chemistry, and it’s a fair reading – this Enjolras read ace/too busy for romance quite strongly, I guess, and also very young, but yeah. After the joy that was Sam Edwards, even a bit more chemistry with Hyoie O’Grady (even though he said he didn’t really like that reading (I think??) which totally fair), and some actors I believe ACTUALLY KISSING OMG in other productions (one Enjolras also wore a Pride sash instead of a revolutionary one in Brazil, I think???) it really wasn’t anything. I would love a cast with an outwardly gay & together E/R, but I think the West End has a while to go before that becomes reality.

·       Enjolras’ death: obviously no turntable, end of that iconic spin to reveal him draped across the front of the barricade with his flag. In this version, he basically yeets himself off the front of the barricade very dramatically (there is no other word for it, I promise I’m not using “yeet” gratuitously) and then when Javert comes back after the fall of the barricade, there’s a soldier with the cart from the building of the barricade with a very dead Enjolras on his flag, arms akimbo out the end. Which worked. It was more quiet and understated, but it worked. No complaints from me.

·       At the curtain call he gave us a little hand heart, Taylor-Swift-circa-2010 style. It was cute and I should probably stop being a cow.

Les Amis

·       They’ll never cast them as diverse as they are in my head (I can only hope one day, perhaps, PLEASE!) but they were a good bunch. Their Feuilly looked more like a Jehan to me, but eh. Again, just no real…buzz. Not in the way I’ve seen them performed before? And I think Les Amis depends on a good Enjolras and a good Grantaire, because as the two main Amis in the musical, they set the tone?

·       When the soldiers’ final announcements were happening during the Dawn of Anguish, one of the boys (idk which, they were basically all blonde) was having a very obvious panic attack on the floor by the tables, and one of the others was comforting him and it was like that horrible powerful scene in the 2012 movie and I didn’t like it because it was heartbreaking but it was very effective.

·       They all seemed a bit less tolerant of Grantaire, who wasn’t even that disruptive by other actors standards, which I didn’t like?

·       Grantaire was, again, eh? Funny, fine, but didn’t have interesting things going for him (like Adam Filipe’s pacifism, for example, or any kind of chemistry with Enjolras) in the way others have done, but it was a solid performance.

The Thenardiers

·       Yes, they were great! Master of the House built to Thenardier being given the birthday bumps, which was funny.

·       Madame Thenardier’s solo in Master of the House was delivered in the kitchen all by herself as a bitter monologue, rather than the drunken rowdiness you used to get in the old show.

·       They were a pretty typical funny Thenardier couple, and I’m getting tired, I might remember some more about them tomorrow.

 So yeah. Those are my thoughts. Would love to hear what other people think, and I definitely want to go back and see it again, perhaps with a different cast (a different Enjolras, argh). I’m off to bed, I have class in ten hours. Oops.