#and it shows in her logic and pouting a lot

[arkhamcalamity]

“💭“ //ohhh imma regret this but hit me

A peek into Amity's memories // Accepting!! @bxrningblack secretly loves my pain i know it but i did accidentally write a novel again. Also, did I shamelessly connect my muses? yes, i'm not sorry. I can put @merciedblood in this mess bc i wanted to

Something was horribly wrong. 

It’s in the silence so still that all that registered was her own panting. After hours of her own yelling and cursing through labor, it shouldn’t be this quiet. It’s haunting. A minute ago, she would have thought herself too exhausted to manage any more noise, but this sickening silence choked up a concerned whine as she tried to push herself up to see. Bad idea, dizziness almost immediately put her back onto the pillows, arguing with the surging adrenaline.

“What’s wrong?” Something was. Faintly, she recalled the good midwife going a few shades paler in the last third of her pushing. Alienor gripping her hand tighter around then too. They knew something was wrong. Why else would Althea take her Beatrix so swiftly to the table? More panicked, Amity pushed back against Alienor’s attempt to keep her lying back on the bed. 

“Let me see her! Why won’t she cry?” And she could hear Alienor talking softly, briefly catching ‘neck’, ‘tangled’ but it’s all mumbled in a thunderous roar of adrenaline and blood in her head.  She had to be okay. She had to be okay. Regardless of how she was made, Amity wanted her. No matter the consequence. ‘Wedlock will have a high price, no matter how it happened,’ Ezekiel's warning echoed faintly, pushed out by the louder wishes. No, no, no, not this price.

“Thea, don’t let her die,” she sobbed into Alienor’s arm. Please, please, please. She can’t bear it if there’s nothing to come out of all this. If it all was for nothing, if there’s nothing for her to cling to in the aftermath of months worth of tears and rage. 

There's a minute, then two; stretching what felt like eons. Just silence in a room of unspoken hopes and prayers; until there was a cough and a piercing screech from the youngest Arkham. If relief could be tangible, it would have drowned them all. 

“There we go,” Althea cooed, swiftly wrapping the baby up to bring over to Amity’s outstretched arms.  "Hello, Beatrix," Amity whispered, almost laughing in relief. Perfect. She’s perfect, beautiful, everything Amity wanted and more. With her own silver light hair and wide eyes, it almost seemed like Beatrix wasn't anything but her mother. Amity let her new daughter suck on the curled knuckle of her pinkie and make happier, gurgling sounds. Alienor chuckled and placed a proud kiss on the top of Amity's head.

And for a couple minutes it's perfect. Exhausted, covered in mess, and perfect. Reality though always did have a way of ruining perfection.

Cleaning up a bit after helping with the afterbirth, Althea nervously bit on her lip.

“Amity,” Althea started softly, “we need to talk about her. You’ve been putting it off, I know you don’t want to b-”  “They can’t have her,” she injected sternly, gripping Beatrix closer to her chest. “She’s mine.”  “You didn’t talk about what happened, and I understand why but they won’t just let all this pass, you have to know that. They’d never just let you and Alienor take her. If she’s a Cobbl-”  “She’s mine!” Anyone’s guess if she was talking about Beatrix or Alienor. “Ezekiel would never let them.”  “The court,” Althea pleaded, trying to get her to see any sort of reason or reality they were facing. “They won’t care Ezekiel is one of them, it’s not enough. If they think she’s like you, like me-”  “No! That’s final! I won’t let them take her, or hurt her. We don’t even know if she’s gifted!” For all they knew, Beatrix was normal! "I'm not marrying off, and I want to keep her. She's. Mine." Ezekiel could get them to see that...

....Right?

[junislqve]

THAT FEELING WHEN / ’she looks perfect’

enhypen ｡｡ their “she’s perfect” moments

n : f!r / 1683 𝑤𝘰𝑟𝑑𝑠 . . . 𝓬 — 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 ⨾ kissing fluff enha in love est rs ⟢ 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗅𝘰𝗀𝗎𝖾

𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝘰𝗀𝗌 ♥︎ 𝖼𝗅𝑖𝖼𝗄

LEE HEESEUNG

one thing heeseung loved to do was watch his pretty girlfriend sit in front of her huge mirror while getting ready. loving the way you’d apply lip gloss on your lips knowing he’d kiss it all away in a minute anyway.

it was always one of those moments when he’d get to admire you as much as he’d like, his eyes chasing after every detail of your face in fear he’d forget about it if he didn’t.

“seung, can you pass me my bag?” you ask, unaware of the way his eyes glazed over, doe-eyed. “‘seung?”

“yeah?” he said, absentmindedly. you turn to him with a pout and only then did he snap out.

“my bag—“

“do you know how perfect you look right now?” your eyes flickered to his, “you look perfect all the time— how do you always look this pretty?”

PARK JONGSEONG

it’s always been hard to waver jay. he was never swayed that easily nor did he get shy a lot. so why was it so hard for him to focus on studying whenever you were around?

he had stacks of books all splayed out in front of him and a test to study for, yet all he could think about was how you looked smiling and laughing with your friends hours ago.

“jay?” hearing that voice, he thinks he’s never looked up that fast in his life, “hi, can i sit here?”

well, now he knows he can never get any studying done, “yeah, sure, of course.”

“have you been studying for long?” you ask, taking a seat right across from him, as if your mere presence wasn’t already a menace to his heart rate yet.

“no, i just started actually” a little white lie wouldn’t hurt. which he was glad for saying, because he spent the next two hours studying (mostly talking) with you. and he thought he’s gotten comfortable with talking to you, but that was until he attempted to crack a joke that gauged no reaction out of you.

“i mean, well, you’re always pretty— smart. smart and pretty” he sputtered, wishing he stayed silent, his dilemma was cut short by the soft chuckle you made. when he picked up the way your dimples showed and the way your eyes creased crescents, he knows he a goner.

SIM JAEYUN

your room was one of the places jake loved to be in. it didn’t matter what he was doing, it just felt better to do it in your room. it was nothing, however, without your presence. maybe it was because of your habit to leave music lulling away through every corner of your room, jake convinces himself.

he loved your room, and he loved you (though you didn’t know it yet) and he was completely fine with it. he was doing his project on your bedroom floor while you were sat on your window sill, typing up an essay.

it’s been hours since you both sat down in silence only letting the music to fill in the atmosphere.

“do you have a ruler i can borrow?” he asked, eyes still trained on his work. when you didn’t answer, his eyes turned to you for a moment, “hey, d—“

jake was reconsidering your friendship the moment he turned to look at you again, double taking at the sight. there was a beautiful sunset right behind you, and yet the only thing he could look at was you.

everything was fading away and you were the reason. all of his desires were begging him to reach out to you and ruin all that he’s built up until now, and while usually he’d create up a logical reason not to, this time, maybe a logical part of him wanted that too.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon has never prioritized a day more than his day-ins. where all he needed to do was lay in bed and rest as long as he wanted. usually, he’d ignore everyone who tried to disturb him during those days. but if it was you, all it took was a call and he’s right outside your apartment.

“why didn’t you call me earlier, baby?” he sighs, fingers carving through your hair lulling you to sleep.

“i didn’t want to bother you” you pout, looking up at him. if you were any more adorable, sunghoon thinks he might not be able to restrain himself from kissing you breathless.

“bother me all you want, i’m yours to bother anyway” he says absentmindedly. unaware of the effect his words has on you, he always knew what to say at all the right times and that never failed to make you warm.

only after half an hour did you finally decide to let the sleep overtake you. sunghoon who was about to ask you if you wanted to eat, looked down to see his girlfriend’s arms around him.

he carefully moved the hair out of your face, brushing the little strands to the side. at first, he found you adorable looking this peaceful, but after a while he found himself not being able to look away. his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb gently rubbed your skin.

his eyes roamed your face possibly about a dozen times, hoping he’d remember every last detail of it to the way your lips pout slightly in your sleep. he found it baffling how you could look so perfect even while sleeping.

planting a small longing kiss on your forehead, sunghoon laid his head on top of yours. not realizing the slight smile on your lips nor the way you snuggled slightly closer to him.

KIM SUNOO

the door to the apartment drew open and sunoo looked exhausted. he needed his girlfriend and thankfully, the moment he was in, you were right there in front of him, sat on the couch.

sunoo walked to where you were, arms going around your body, face on your chest, hoping he could just stay like this forever. he caressed your sides and inhaled your scent until he looked up to you and noticed the familiar pattern of the hoodie you were wearing.

“baby, is this my hoodie?” he asks, heart melting when he saw you dig your face deeper into the hoodie in embarassment. he was about to shoot you a comment until your eyes peeped out of the hoodie and gazed at him.

this whole situation was ridiculous, more ridiculous as he was suddenly unable to think of anything except for the way you stared up at him so adorably. the doe eyes you shot him was enough to make him nervous.

just as fast as you did, you covered your whole face back under the hoodie, leaving sunoo trying to recollect himself, acting as if the fact that you were buried under his clothes and engulfed in his scent didn’t make him drunk on your existence.

YANG JUNGWON

music was blasting loudly. and somehow, jungwon wasn’t actively trying to avoid the place. reason of cause? you. more specifically, the way your hands wrapped around his arm. a simple action enough to drive him nuts. maybe if he was aware of the way he was following you like a lost puppy he’d snap out of it, but for now, he’s stuck to you.

“wonnie, do you want some punch?” you ask, grabbing a clean cup and pouring yourself a glass.

“hm?” he attempted to register the situation and once he did, he carefully took your cup away from you, “are you sure this is safe? we both know you can’t handle your alcohol”

maybe that’s exactly what you need right now though, some alcohol in your system because the way your boyfriend had his sleeves rolled up to his arms and the way his hair sat messily on top of his head was making you insane.

“come on, wonn, just a little” you tilt your head to the side. and that was when jungwon had his little shit moment. the way you looked tonight in the dim lighting and that smile of yours, it was all too overwhelming for him.

all those moments he’s had with you is all catching up to him and his heart feels so full of love for you, he doesn’t know what to do. only then can he gulp, and nod at his girlfriend as he watches her eyes light up, giving him a split second’s kiss that had him grinning from ear to ear while following her from behind.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“riki come on! the sunset’s about to start”

your voice echoing from ahead, riki was struggling to keep up with your pace, his legs running as fast as he could through the road.

“slow down” he huffs, breathing heavily as his feet finally lands on sand and his pace slowing down. despite the need to heave, he continued his slow walk towards you, who had your back towards him.

he stood beside you and he turned to you, just about to scold you for making him run with you, but all his words died on his tongue as he saw the way your eyes reflected the sunset.

he willed himself to look ahead for a split second before his eyes trailed back to you, riki wondered how someone could look so pretty compared to the view right in front of him. he wondered how even though you annoyed him most times, he couldn’t look away from you right now.

he told himself it was because of how you looked dumb gaping at a sunset but even then you looked unreal, riki didn’t understand your fascination with sunsets when you could just look at yourself in the mirror.

but he’ll never tell you that, in fact, he promised himself he’s only going to look at you for that long only for this moment. only because the orange hues reflecting off your skin made you look perfect, only because he knew he couldn’t pay any amount of money to get to see something as pretty as that smile of yours. only this time.

spoiler: that wasn’t the last time.

juni : this took too long bruh

[echobx]

Damnit I tripped into your ask box again....

....

JJ bending you over the seat of his bike, in a more public setting. He gets on his knees for you and lifts your sundress up, yanks your panties off and eats you out.

....

or ya know whatever 🤷🏻🤭

summary: see ask

warnings: oral (fem receiving), talk of violence

word count: ≈500

author's note: omg this is so short 😭 I hope you like it anyway bc I think it's shit

“You didn't have to fucking do that,” JJ grunts while pushing you forward, practically dragging you in front of him through the parking lot. “She wanted to fuck you. I was defending you,” you argue with a sly smile, not seeing any issues with the fact that you’ve probably broken the girl's nose for putting her hands on your man. And usually JJ isn't against it either, but for some reason he’s angry with you now, and you can't figure out why. “That's not- You know that I don't care about them. I don't care how much she wanted to fuck me, because I don't want her. You know I don't want her. I only love you!” JJ’s words push your doubts, the jealousy you felt raging, to the back of your mind. “She was out of line,” you pout, and your boyfriend stops to pull you flush to his chest. His calloused, warm hands cup your jaw, pulling you up just enough for him to kiss you with ease. He knew of your temper before you got together, never finding any issues with it. “Want me to show you how much I love you and only you, princess?” The smirk on his lips should be a warning to you, but you can never tell him no. “Maybe you should. Yes,” you nod and let out a tiny squeal when he pulls you up and throws you over his shoulder to walk faster. There's not much to complain about when his hand, that is holding onto you, is slipping up and rests under your dress, right on your ass.

JJ has never been one to keep things private, but the fact that he puts you down on his bike and immediately pulls your slip down was something new. You are out in the open. Visible to anyone who wants to walk by. But he still drops to his knees in front of you and starts to eat you out, while you try your best to stay on top of the bike. While you try to not scream when his lips close around your clit and his fingers curl inside your tight cunt. With your head thrown back, you hope no one sees you. You hope no one calls the cops, but even if they did, you know it would be more than worth it. And JJ is giving you his best, licking, sucking, biting; anything and all you like, all while his knees are on the hot pavement. Your hand comes down on his head, fingers raking through his locks and tugging harshly to tell him you're close. But JJ doesn't want to stop. He eats you out as if he's starved, craving every single drop of cum that you grant him. “JJ, please- Home,” you pant, and he decides that it's best to stop and resume as soon as you get home. But just because it's the logical choice to make, doesn't mean it's the one he wants to make. And at that moment, he knows why you broke that girl's nose. Impulses are hard to resist, after all.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimocarz

[sxgakookie]

Summary: Your boyfriend, BTS’ Jung Kook, has a new, sexy persona that he’s showing through his music. But when it causes some of your insecurities to bubble up, he makes sure that you understand that you’re the only one for him. Genre: Fluff (idol!Jung Kook x Reader) Rating/Warnings: Adults Only (Body/appearance insecurities, kissing and sexual touching, suggestive ending) Word Count: ~ 1.5k

Tonight was not the first night you’ve attended one of Jung Kook’s concerts. You love watching him work the crowd, dance with his backup dancers, and give the audience the best show he could possibly give. But tonight, due to the new creative direction Jung Kook’s music was going in, you had a lump in your throat and jealous feelings in your chest, as he introduced his guest feature for the night. 

She was beautiful. As they performed together, Jung Kook looked so happy and you could tell he was having a lot of fun. It was silly, you knew, because the whole performance was strictly professional, but you still felt hurt when he danced a little too closely with her and brushed up against her, especially as her outfit was designed to be sexy and revealing. The choreography was very sexually suggestive, as was the song itself. You couldn’t help your insecurities from showing, and the negative thoughts came in as you wondered if Jung Kook found her attractive. Maybe even more attractive than you. 

“Excuse me.” You tapped on the shoulder of the security guard Jung Kook had hired for you. The tall man leaned down, so he could hear you over the screaming crowd. “I’m not feeling well… Can I be taken home, please?” 

You knew Jung Kook would be worried, wondering why you left his show early, but you didn’t care in that moment. All you wanted to do was hide in your bed, and let the tears you’re holding finally fall. 

Dating an idol is hard, especially as someone who is so far away from that life. Jung Kook is constantly surrounded by beautiful women, either fellow musicians who he creates music with, or his female fans, who throw themselves at him. You trust him, and the more logical side of you knew that Jung Kook wouldn’t hurt you. But you also felt insecure, and in your weaker moments, you grew frustrated with that side of his work. It was difficult being in love with somebody who you constantly felt you had to share with the rest of the world. 

When Jung Kook’s concert ended, his toned body was dripping with sweat and running on adrenaline. He made his way backstage, expecting to see you there, waiting for a kiss and to walk back to the dressing room. But when you were nowhere to be found, his brows furrowed. 

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” He asked a member of his security team. 

“She asked to be taken home early.” One of the men responded. “She didn’t give us too much detail, only that she wasn’t feeling well.” 

Jung Kook nodded as he patted himself dry with a towel, getting himself ready to go back home to you. He hoped you were alright, and he thought of what he could do to possibly make you feel better, whatever the problem might be. 

“Baby?” He whispered, barely cracking the bedroom door. “Are you awake?” 

No answer. The room was dark, but Jung Kook could make out your figure in the bed, covered by blankets. He assumed you had already drifted off the sleep, until he heard sniffles. Jung Kook’s eyes widened in surprise, and he felt his heart sink. 

“Y/N?” His voice was gentle as he walked to your side of the bed. “What’s going on, baby?” 

He knelt down on the floor to be eye-level with you as you laid on your side, and he turned on your bedside lamp to see your face. Jung Kook’s lips were turned downwards in a deep frown, seeing how red with tears your eyes were. 

“I don’t know if I really wanna talk about it.” You murmured. If your sad tone didn’t break his heart, Jung Kook would’ve cooed at your adorable pout. 

“That’s ok, baby.” He said softly. “Although, if you’re upset with me, I’d like to know why so I can make it better. I don’t want you to go to bed sad.” 

Jung Kook was genuinely so confused at what could’ve gone wrong. He knew you enjoyed going to his shows, and he thought tonight would be fun for you both. Clearly, however, there was something else on your mind. 

“Do… Do you think I’m pretty?” You mumbled, sounding silly even to your own ears. 

“Of course I do.” Jung Kook said, his furrowed brows showing his confusion. “Baby, where is this coming from? Did I say something wrong?” 

“Don’t you think she’s pretty too, though?” 

“She?” He asked, before slowly piecing together who you were talking about. He sighed, sad that you would ever let your mind drift to those awful places. “She’s not pretty like you are, baby. Not to me.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” Jung Kook replied. His tattooed hand tenderly brushed a piece of hair from your face, before he wiped a tear from your cheek. “Can I lay in bed with you, honey? Is that ok?” 

Jung Kook knew when you get sad, and in your own head with your insecurities, he needed to be gentle with the way he treated you. It wasn’t the first time he helped you fight off your bad thoughts. You nodded, and Jung Kook whispered a quiet “thank you”, before slipping into more comfortable clothes and sliding into his side of the bed. He delicately turned you to face him, so you could be eye to eye with him as he talked to you. 

“Can you tell me what specifically hurt your feelings?” Jung Kook asked, interlocking his fingers with yours in between your bodies. 

“It’s stupid.” You said, ashamed of your feelings. 

“It’s not stupid.” Jung Kook pushed back. “If it hurts your feelings, and makes you feel bad, then it’s not stupid. Not to me.” 

“Ok.” You whispered. “The… the dance, and the outfits. She’s so pretty and she was dressed so sexy and I know it’s stupid-“ 

“Not stupid.” Jung Kook intervened, determined to stop your negative self talk. “Not stupid at all.” 

“Sorry. Not stupid.” You sighed. “But she was dressed so sexy and you were so close to her, and I… I’m not that sexy, you know? She’s so much cooler than me and I think sometimes you would rather be with someone like that.” 

Jung Kook’s heart shattered at the confession. He never thought while practicing the choreography, or doing the dress rehearsal, that any part of that could hurt your feelings. He kicked himself for not thinking of that, but he knew he needed to explain why. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t think about what that would’ve felt like to you, baby.” Jung Kook said, squeezing your hand. “I never wanted to hurt you, or be disrespectful. I don’t think of her in that way at all, which is why I okayed the choreography and the outfits, when I probably should’ve been a little more thoughtful. I’m sorry.” 

“Now I feel bad.” You smiled softly. “I don’t want you to change the way you express yourself because of me and my stupid insecurities.” 

“Not stupid.” Jung Kook corrected. 

“I love that you want to be more mature and sexy in your music and performances, I think that it’s fun. I don’t want you to feel bad about it. But… I don’t know…” 

“But what, baby?” He encouraged you to continue your thought. 

“Sometimes, I wish that side of you could just be for me. I know that’s selfish.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “But I wish I didn’t have to share you.” 

“You don’t share me.” Jung Kook said, a frown on his face. “You’ll never have to share me with anyone. Listen, baby, it’s just for entertainment. It’s fake, and it means nothing to me outside of my work.” 

Jung Kook pulls you closer to him, making you smile when his strong, tattooed arm wraps around your waist. You giggle as his lips find your ticklish spot on your neck, and he slowly climbs on top of you, smiling as he peppers little kisses to your skin. 

“When I come home, and I get to spend time with you, that’s real.” He murmured in between kisses. “This is when I’m not putting on an act. This when I’m not performing. It’s real love, and nobody else gets that but you. Ok? I’m all yours.” 

“Ok.” You smiled, your giggles slowing down. Jung Kook lifted his head so that his eyes could meet yours, sparkling with adoration for you. 

“You’re the only woman I love.” He promises. “You’re beautiful, you’re sexy, and it takes everything in me not to touch you constantly. Please, don’t think I’ll ever see another woman the way that I see you. And if you ever need a little extra love, to remind you of that…” He trailed off, his hands sliding under your shirt, caressing your skin. “… I’m more than happy to help you remember.” 

“Kookie!” You squealed, feeling his hands make their way up to your breasts as his lips find your neck again. 

“There’s my favorite, pretty girl.” He smiled into his kisses, happy to turn your sniffles into the playful giggles he loves so much. “Wanna make you feel beautiful tonight. I love you so much, Y/N.” 

“I love you too.” You responded, throwing your hands in his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist. You knew from the love marks your boyfriend made on your neck, that you’d wake up the next morning exhausted and feeling so, incredibly loved. 

[yuri-is-online]

(Scatters more Aceyuu birdfeed for the lovelies)

Imagine, when Yuu awoke in Twisted Wonderland, they didn't even have their own clothes--they were in the ceremonial robes--at best they're (probably) given a janitors uniform from Crowly when they first meet Ace. Fast forward a day or so when Ace decides to camp out at Ramshackle for the first time and he really sees your situation. You're not some nutjob and their badly trained pet who broke into the school, you are in trouble.

Cut to Ace finally moving back into his dorm after Riddle's overblot and Ace is going through his stuff (to make sure his roommates didn't mess with it) and he finds like, an old pair of pyjamas he doesn't really wear anymore. This shirt is pretty outdated fashion-wise too. And he has no idea why he packed this pair of shorts for school either! They could go to a good home, he supposed, before bunging his unwanted hand-me-downs in a bag and setting off back to Ramshackle. Trying to ignore the first signs of a pitter-pattering heart as he watches your face light up with realisation when you pull out his old clothes from an old sports bag. He knew you needed clothes but seeing how much this meant to you? Yeah, Ace is gonna be doing all sorts of things to take care of you now to keep that smile. And don't get me started about how he got butterflies the first weekend he went to see you and you were wearing his (ill-fitting) clothes!

After Book 4, Ace has another suitcase of "charity clothes" from home (if Yuu is fem presenting, then he might've asked his mum for her hand-me-downs so Yuu would have some more "girly" clothes, if that's what they want) only to come up short when going to deliver them too you as he sees Deuce wrapping his old leather jacket around your shoulders, or Jack giving you an old cardigan that you're just swimming in.

He can't help but feel betrayed, in a way, seeing you accept clothes from your other friends. Logically speaking, he knows you're not in a position to be turning down charity, but the sting of losing what felt like just a you two thing hurts. He's sulking and petty and got this stupid suitcase sitting in his room for weeks while he pouts, glaring daggers at Deuce for the betrayal (Deuce is just confused, he was just helping a homie stay warm since there's snow on the ground. Jack is at least aware of the connotations but likes returning the shit Ace sends his way).

Eventually it bubbles up to one day, when the group are studying in Heartslaybul, Deuce forgot his noted in his room and Yuu offers to grab them, noticing the suitcase they bring it up to the guys and Ace squirms as Deuce mentions how Ace brought it after winter break and hasn't touched it since. Everyone badgers him for what's in it and Ace won't admit it infront of everyone else there, you gotta get him alone so later on, Yuu broaches it again and he admits its more clothes but he felt stupid seeing you get more from everyone else (he plays it off like "didnt want you swamped with stuff you didn't want" or something) but Yuu perks up, asking what he brought and if he still wants to give them to them. Maybe accidentally admitting they still mostly only use Ace's old pj's because it smells like him because his stuffs just more comfy and they like his stuff more.

Something something small fashion show for Ace something something this got a lot longer than I intended uwahhhh.....

If Ace could go back in time he'd probably punch himself for all the comments he made before he started using his goddamn brain and LOOKED at your situation he would, but he can't so he instead does what Ace does best and looks out for you while pretending he's not doing that at all and does not care.

But the problem is of course that Ace does care. You open the door in his clothes and it really doesn't matter what you're saying anymore. He's forgotten why he's here, actually, instead there's a hum in the back of his skull that he likes. He likes seeing you in his pajamas, he likes spending time with you. Ace will never say it out loud, in fact he denies it every chance he gets, but he likes spending time with you and Deuce. The other first years are fun, and he likes the basketball club, but the two of you are the best use of his time. He doesn't even think about the others maybe wanting to help you out because he's the one who takes care of you. Not Deuce or Jack, him. Maybe he spends winter break thinking about you and going through his things. Maybe he has to hype himself up as he takes his duffel bag back because his mom teased him just a little too much about things running in the family.

Deuce giving you a leather jacket breaks something in him. Ace thought Deuce would have been drowning in attention based on the bad boy appeal alone and that jacket just cements it, even if the blank look his glares get sort of soothes the jealous ache somewhat. "Don't be rude Ace! No one likes having to rely on hand me downs-" Juice is so fucking stupid he doesn't know why he bothered being jealous. Jack's a different story though because on the one hand he "hates" the idea of appearing vulnerable but on the other hand there is a chance to dunk on Ace just waiting to be taken and that has to make up for temporary embarrassment. He could probably get Leona in on this too if he spins it the right way, wouldn't that be funny? Fine, Ace will just keep his things to himself since you... probably don't want them huh. Yeah, sure he swears you always wear his pajamas but that's because you don't have other clothes. You've got stuff now you don't need him. He's not the only person taking care of you... oh well!

When Yuu asks him about the suitcase he plays it off. "Just some extra stuff, you know. Parents am I right?" When everyone leaves he teases you about it because he's embarrassed and he needs to take it out somewhere.

"You really thought of me?" There's a look on your face that renders Ace speechless. "Thank you... I. You really didn't need to but if you have something similar to the pajamas..." You were wearing the shorts tonight. Come to think of it he hasn't seen you in Jack's shirt much. Deuce's jacket was meant to protect against the snow so it's not like he can

"You can have it." He mumbles, looking off to the side instead of into your eyes. "It's not like they weren't meant for you I just forgot about it you know?"

Maybe he'll buy you something next time, no one's done that yet right?

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Bonus Drabble 2

Summary: Jungkook gets mistaken as your father but jumps at the opportunity to show them exactly who he is to you. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 1.6K~ Warning: Suggestive language but nothing crazy lol a/n: So this is another ask by an anon and it was something I'm sure y'all have been curious to see so I figured why not make it a little longer 🤭 p.s. written in one sitting so barely edited Start from the beginning

"Here you go!" the lady at the register says, handing Jungkook one of the shopping bags.

She had been looking at the both of us, no doubt trying to figure out our relationship but went with the one that might seem the most logical with an age difference as big as ours.

"You're lucky! I wish my dad would still buy me clothes at my age. I miss those days where I wouldn't have to worry about anything, especially money" she says, no doubt trying to make conversation while she folds the rest of the clothes and places them inside the second bag

"No you see he's not my-" "She does call me Daddy but I can assure you, I'm not her father" Jungkook jumps in, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer, making things a lot more intimate than they had been before.

"I- um-" I stammer but Jungkook decides to make matters worse, looking to gain my confirmation. "Right Bunny" he says, placing a kiss on my neck and making me shudder, completely mortified by this whole situation.

"Oh would you look at the time! We better get going if we want to make it to that thing in time" I say while shaking off his embrace, trying to get away from here as soon as possible.

When I reach out to take the second bag Jungkook gets to it faster and already has a comfortable grip on the handle. "It's okay baby, I got it" he says, going out of his way to sound sickeningly sweet but also extremely intoxicating at the same time.

I smile painfully at him and squeeze out a quick thank you to him and the poor cashier and hightail my way out of there.

"I'm sorry sir I shouldn't have assumed" the girl apologizes but Jungkook tones down the playful nature and assures her that he understood where she was coming from.

"It's alright. I just like to embarrass her when I can" he admits and she laughs, understanding our dynamic just a little bit more. "Have a good day sir" she say, wrapping up the conversation and he returns the sentiment and thanks her for her help.

When he finally decides to leave the store he saunters out to me, his eyes clearly showing his continued amusement from the little spectacle he put on back there.

"I hate you" I pout and he chuckles in response. "Why do you have to do that every time?" I question, dragging out the last word and it only gains me and even more playful Jungkook.

"Because you look so pretty when you're looking at me like that" he says, placing both bags in his left hand and using his right to pinch my cheek, no doubt warm to the touch from the embarrassment I couldn't help but feel back there.

"Let's just go" I say, rolling my eyes at him and making my way out of the shopping center, him following with a bounce in his step before he catches up to me and grabs my hand, making me stop to look at him.

"Let me make it up to you yeah?" he say, the once playful eyes changed to one's full of hunger. I can feel my cheeks start to warm up again, this time from desire instead of embarrassment because I know exactly what's in store.

I don't bother to dignify his words with a response and simply continue on my quest back to the car but the fact that I've held onto his hand and made sure he was following me still made him chuckle, finding me absolutely adorable.

"That eager huh?" he asks and I huff in response. "I'm done with being in a bad mood today so you've got a lot of work to put in mister" I grumble and he laughs at my reasoning, knowing deep down I'm buzzing with excitement. 

"Don't I always?" he says and I stop in my tracks, glaring up at him, "So you think I'm a piece of work huh?" I growl and he holds back his laughter, finding my efforts of being intimidating so endearing. 

"No, I just love taking my time with you" he says, caressing my face and making my sour mood start to fade away, "Isn't that right Bunny" he says, leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on my lips leaving me wanting him even more. 

"Shut up" I say and stomp away, done with his teasing and needing him to put his money where his mouth is. If he's claiming he wants to make it up to me then he's doing it in a very strange way. 

"You know I thought this shopping trip was supposed to be fun and make me feel better" I say once he's finally caught up to me right before I take the crosswalk to get to the parking lot. "I'm having fun. Aren't you?" he teases, acting completely oblivious making me even more upset. "No, I'm not" I say through gritted teeth. 

"Come on Bunny you know I'm just teasing" he says popping the trunk and placing the bags in it before closing it and going to open my door. 

"Hey" he say, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me close, "You know I love you right?" he says once I've cuddled into his chest and I nod, breathing in his scent which always brings be a sense of comfort. "I love you too" I mumble and he kisses me on the forehead before letting go and opening my car door. 

"Let's go home okay?" he say and I nod walking closer but before I'm able to sink down into my seat he smacks my ass. "OW! What was that for?" I whine, rubbing the spot he abused as he dryly chuckles. "That was for rolling your eyes at me back there Princess. Think I wouldn't notice huh?" he says in a deep taunting voice that he knows can push me into submission. 

I shake my head and he gives me a mischievous smile before telling me to get in the car. 

"I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me" I pout once he gets in the car beside me. "Don't worry Darling, once I'm done with you, you'll forget that you were even mad at me to begin with" he says so casually, making my stomach do a flip, my thighs always clenching together, thinking about what lies ahead.

"Just let Daddy take care of you yeah? Gonna make you feel all better" he teases and although I act like I hate it when he talks to me like that, I know he'll always make good on his word. "Don't call yourself that" I groan, trying to hide how easily the simplest words can make me so needy. 

How has he trained my body to react to him so well. I guess it's my fault for letting him have his way with me time and time again. After all, he was my first and I wouldn't want it any other way. 

"You okay baby?" he asks, concerned that he's truly made me upset from how I had spaced out for a second there. "I'm okay" I say plainly and he nods, putting the car into drive and starting on our short journey back home. 

"Thank you Daddy" I say playfully making him choke on his spit, not expecting me to call him that since I had been so against it just moments ago.

"For what?" he questions through coughs and I can't help but laugh. "For all of the things you bought me today" I say and he leans over and grabs my cheek, turning me to face him to share in a sweet kiss while stopped at the red light. 

"You're welcome baby" he says, rubbing his nose against mine before pulling back and sitting properly in the drivers seat, placing one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh as we continue on our journey once the light turns green. 

"Don't think you're getting away with not showing me how pretty you look in them once we get home though" he says squeezing my thigh and and letting me know exactly what he meant but he chooses to voice it anyway. 

"Need to fuck you in that babydoll nightgown I got you" he growls, "Been thinking 'bout it since I saw it" he growls and I feel myself getting even more wet with every sinful word that drips from his lips. 

"You can't just say that" I say, hiding my face in my hands and he chuckles, using one hand to spread apart my thighs with ease, rubbing a finger along my clothed center to see the damage he's already done.

"Baby's so worked up that she could probably cum from my words alone huh?" he taunts and he doesn't let up the entire time, making me absolutely helpless against him. He knows exactly how I want it and he lets me know that I'm not leaving to bed today, or tomorrow and maybe even the next day. 

"Gonna fuck this little attitude right out of you" he says, pulling into the garage and shutting it behind us. "Upstairs. Now" he commands when he turns off the car and opens the trunk to pull out the bags, making sure to bring up everything because he meant what he said.

Wouldn't be surprised if some of the lingerie doesn't even last a day. But then again it never really does... 

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[avatar-anna]

After reading Harry and Julian’s relationship I can’t even image how Harry would be on his first day of school. I would love to see how Harry would react to each of his babies first days of school

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

"Chin up, love, you're gonna make your old man cry."

Julian's little bottom lip wobbled as he tried to take a deep breath through his sniffly nose. His eyes were lined with a fresh wave of tears, his chubby cheeks ruddy from the ones he shed on the car ride to school. With a shaky voice, the cutest and most heartbreaking it had ever been, Harry thought, Jules said, "I'm s—sorry, Daddy."

"It's okay, JuJu," Harry promised, ignoring the bite of the cold tile floor on his knee as he knelt in front of his son. "Today is going to be so much fun, and it'll go so fast."

"But why can't you stay?" Julian asked, his big eyes pleading.

Those were the eyes that typically had his son getting his way without fail. Harry could never resist that particular look, especially when Julian's lips were pouted just so. My sweet boy, Harry thought. All grown up.

"Because this is school, bubbie. This is where kids go to learn."

"But you and Mommy help me learn," Julian reasoned.

"You've got an answer for everything," Harry murmured. "School is a place for learning and making friends JuJu. And to take art class and read stories and play on the playground. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Harry and Y/n had similar conversations with their son since they told him and Maeve they were going to school. For preschool, Y/n had taken on educating the twins, with Harry helping where he could. It was more manageable when they were quarantined, but now that life was returning to normal and the kids were getting older, there was only so much Y/n could manage on her own. Enrolling the kids in school seemed like the logical next step, and although some of them were excited by the new adventure, others were more apprehensive.

"Tell you what," Harry said when he realized selling the joys of school wasn't working on Julian. "When mum and I pick you and your sisters up today, we'll go get ice cream, how about that?"

"And we can feed the ducks too?" Jules asked, a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

Harry grinned. "Yep. We can go to the park and feed the ducks too. But you have to go to school first."

Julian's curls bounced on his forehead as he nodded. "Okay."

"Now dry your tears, bubbie. You're gonna have the best day ever," Harry said as he stood up.

"And you will dry your tears too, Daddy?"

Chuckling to himself, Harry wiped the corner of his eye. "Yes, JuJu. See? All gone."

Harry held his son's hand as they walked into the classroom together. Maeve was already inside, playing with a set of building blocks that were on a colorful carpet. From there, the transition was a little easier, though Harry shared a tearful goodbye with the twins when it was finally time for class to begin. He was the last parent to leave, and the teacher had to gently but firmly usher him out of the room so class could start. He stayed out in the hall for a few minutes, watching Julian to make sure he didn't burst into tears the second Harry left. Maeve was thankfully sat at the same table with two other children, and things seemed to be going well.

Before Julian noticed him in the hall, Harry left for the parking lot, wiping away the few tears that escaped yet again as he walked away from his babies. Y/n was in the car, Geneva and Natalia already in their car seats and ready for the drive home.

"How was it?" she asked.

"As expected. I had to cut a deal with Julian to get him to actually go into the classroom. Minimal tears."

"From you or from our son?"

Harry cut a glance at his wife, whose eyes were on the road in front of her as she drove away from the school. His heart clenched at the thought of leaving his children behind, but he tried not to show it. "Ha ha. Very funny."

"You were very brave," Y/n continued to tease.

Harry only hummed, glancing sidelong at his wife before saying, "Your mascara's running by the way."

"It is not."

"It is. You look like a raccoon. A very cute raccoon."

"Whatever," Y/n mumbled, subtly wiping beneath her eyes. Then, promptly changing the subject, she asked, "What did you have to promise Jules?"

"The usual. Ice cream and a trip to the park."

Y/n smiled. "Good. I was worried you were going to bribe him with a trip to his favorite candy store in New York."

"That was one time."

Y/n laughed as she turned into their neighborhood, her eyes softening as they slowly approached their empty house. It was definitely odd to only have two children with them at home, having gotten used to the usual chaos of wrangling seven children at once. Y/n and Harry had been reassuring each other for weeks that this was a good idea, promising themselves all the things they would get to do with a little more peace and quiet in the house.

When they got inside, Natalia in Harry's arms and GiGi on Y/n's hip, it was eerily quiet. No sounds of television shows, no arguing, no sounds of little feet running around. It was too quiet.

"You know, I forgot to pack the twins a snack this morning," Harry said suddenly. "They have a lunch and a snack time, don't they?"

"Yeah, but they can just—Oh. H, you're not serious."

Harry was in fact dead serious. "What will all their friends think if they have to eat a snack from their lunch box? It's inconceivable!"

Y/n leveled her husband with a look, making sure she knew his antics were a lot, even for him. Harry just stared back insistently, not willing to change his mind.

"You know you're crazy, right? Like this is crazy, even for you."

Ignoring her jab, Harry said to Geneva, "You want to go on another car ride?"

"Yeah!"

"Then it's settled. As soon as I put their snacks together, we'll go."

Y/n rolled her eyes at Harry, but couldn't deny wanting to see her kids one last time before they really had to be left alone so they could learn and adapt. Once they were back in the car and headed back to the school, Y/n rested her hand over her husband's.

"You know this can't be a thing, though, right?"

Harry shrugged, now behind the wheel. "We'll see. I'm a very forgetful person."

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Heaven is Here

SYNOPSIS: Through many fleeting moments throughout history with a strange woman, Aziraphale and Crowley learn they accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth, stuck to reincarnate forever.

TAGS: Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader, fluff, slight angst, soulmate au (on accident), history, historical settings, no beta we die like men

WORD COUNT : 12,253

A/N: This fic is kind of accidental. I’ve always been more about Aziraphale/Crowley in this fandom than any reader insert, but one day I happened upon a Tumblr fanfic and had an idea. This probably won’t be a regular thing - except I am planning a sequel to this exact fic - but I thought why not. Im still more Aziraphale/Crowley.

55BC—————

"And you love this?" Crowley asked, holding the seafood up to the light as though it would reveal to Aziraphale all the disgusting little details.

"It's delightful!" Aziraphale insisted, showing Crowley how to eat the oyster. "Try it, dearest. You might just enjoy it."

Crowley pursed his lips, not wanting to put whatever the hell this was in his mouth. But Aziraphale was looking at him with those eyes. He didn't know how describe them, and he didn't want to analyze how they made his heart hurt inside his vessel's chest. So he closed his eyes and ate the damned thing.

He put a hand over his mouth to stop the gagging. This Angel's taste was not quite normal if this is what he considered fine dining. He tried to smile politely, to not let him know that it was utter horseshit.

"You don't like it," Aziraphale said with a rather disappointed voice.

"N-No, I don't," Crowley said, and he didn't know why but he was sad to disappoint the angel. He was just trying to be kind after all, it wasn't as though he had properly sinned. But why would a demon feel bad for an angel? That went against his lot's whole thing.

However, Crowley found a wicked part of him that liked pissing off his lot. He'd never put it in as many words however.

"Pity, they are quite delectable."

"Sure, angel," Crowley said, sipping a large mouthful of wine. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking as they'd like. Then Crowley looked up to Aziraphale's soft "ahem." He was pointing behind Crowley, and when he turned he saw what caused it.

A young woman was sat in the corner, a large glass of wine in her hands, and she was weeping to herself. It wasn't loud or particularly noticeable, if it wasn't for the tear tracks down her cheeks, glittering as they caught the light. She was looking at her lap and sipping the wine, balking at the taste yet coming back for more.

"She looks happy," Crowley said.

"She looks sad! You demons need to learn the proper emotions."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if he was joking. Upon realizing that Aziraphale was, in fact, not joking Crowley said, "that was sarcasm, Angel."

"What was sarcasm?"

"My comment, 'she looks happy.' Of course she doesn't look happy that's why I said it."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows, "but your words meant the opposite of what you said."

"Exactly," Crowley said. And with a flourish he added, "it's called sarcasm."

"But why say something you don't mean? Isn't that lying?" Aziraphale asked, in all sincerity.

Crowley thought it over, "s'pose it could be seen that way. Most people view it as ironic."

"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale took an anxious sip of wine, looking back towards the girl.

"Angel..."

"Yes?" He was avoiding eye contact

"You don't know what ironic means, do you?"

Aziraphale pouted, "no I don't and I quite detest that you do."

"Ironic literally means saying the opposite of what you mean for some sort of point. Mine being that she looks downright miserable."

"Even though you said she looks happy." Aziraphale said slowly as he tracked that line of logic through his head.

"Right, even though I said she looks happy."

"And that's ironic?"

"Don't ya think?" Crowley said with a wide smile, his teeth appearing almost like he had pointed fangs.

"Why yes I do think-"

"Angel, that was irony."

"Oh." Aziraphale blinked rapidly a few times then sipped his wine, embarrassed he didn't know something that Crowley did know. He thought he was the knowledgeable of the two. "Well, sarcasm or not, we should help her."

"We?"

"Why - yes, we're both here and we see -"

"I don't help people," Crowley said quickly, his voice deep and harsh. "I'm a demon, I do the opposite of help."

"Well, yes but-"

"There are no buts with this. My lot were created to ruin your lots pickings. I pillage and plunder, that's my job." Crowley said this firmly as though it would make his point clearer. The more intense he was, the more his words seemed to slur together a bit.

Aziraphale paused for a moment, and Crowley wondered if he was about argue his point once more. "Isn't the phrase rape, pillage and plunder?"

"I don't do that. I'm not a monster," Crowley balked. He finished his wine and set the glass down. Throwing some money on the table he said, "sorry Angel. Got a priest to tempt. Catch you later."

"Oh, goodbye." Aziraphale said as Crowley ambled off through the restaurants doors. But despite himself, Aziraphale found himself smiling. Crowley wasn't truly all bad, even if he thought himself it. His gaze at the doors quickly moved over to the pretty girl weeping. She was still crying and her glass was a lot emptied.

Aziraphale got up, straightened his toga, and walked over to the girl. "Oh, um, hello. I'm -" oh shoot, he hadn't thought of this part yet. He had to quickly think of a name. Instantly his eyes shot up to the art above her, a fleece. Aha! "Jason. My name is Jason. Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you're upset."

She sniffled, setting the glass down on the table. Aziraphale was struck by her face, now that he could see it not turned down and hidden. She was pretty. She eyed him warily, "Yeah, what's it to you?"

Aziraphale sat down on the chair opposite her, "I wondered if I might be able to help."

She laughed bitterly, "only if you can stop the Emperor." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised at that and she rushed to cover for herself, "oh no, I didn't mean that. All Hail the Caesar and what not. He's doing a mighty fine job."

"It's certainly not a 'mighty fine job' if he's got you crying as such."

"No, I s'pose not."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she said honestly, wiping the tears away quickly. "Honestly, Jason, I appreciate the thought but what's done is done. You can't change the past."

Aziraphale made a face in slight disagreement, though he knew he couldn't explain that to a human female. "Then perhaps telling someone will make you feel better. I harbor no connection with the Emperor, your opinions are quite safe with me."

She stared up at him after he said this, looking him truly in the eyes as though they told her all she needed to know. Then she did speak. "It's this invasion on Britain. My father and brother were both sent off and I worry. I've heard horrible things about the natives, truly barbaric things like removing of one's head. I don't want them to be hurt. Especially my brother, he's so sweet. He could get hurt by the army rather the natives."

"Hurt by his own army?"

"He doesn't stand up for himself. And that lot can be harsh. I s'pose I shouldn't blame them, I'd be harsh too if I had to kill people in battle. But I worry they will pick on him, push him 'round to try and get him to fight, and he won't."

"Ah, I see," Aziraphale said, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he thought it over. "Well, I can assure you one thing. The natives are not unnecessarily cruel. They do fight, but only when they need to. You couldn't expect anything less, dear."

She nodded, biting her lip. "No, you're correct. I'd defend my country against invaders as well."

"But they won't torture. Your brother will be quite alright, I'm sure of it."

After a minute of silence she looked up again at Aziraphale, "Thank you, Jason. Strangely enough, that makes me feel better. Knowing it wouldn't be torture."

"No, it wouldn't be."

"I really should be going, my daughter will be expecting me."

"Right, of course. Blessings on you, my dear." And though he'd already said the blessing, he felt compelled to say it again. To strengthen it for this poor soul. "Blessings on you forever."

Aziraphale helped her out of her seat. Just then, for an imperceivable second, Aziraphale thought he saw a golden shine cross her eyes. He didn't think much of it, figured it was the miracle. He'd never seen that happen, but he wasn't often looking in their eyes.

She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and thanked him again before walking out. Aziraphale smiled contentedly, though he felt a pull in his heart he hadn't felt before. Urging him to follow her, but he figured it was some sort of indigestion.

Crowley was sprawled on a bench not far from the restaurant, glancing up at a night time sky he couldn't see. He wanted to see it, but he gave up on that dream 2,000 years ago. The Fall took many things, and his eyesight was one of them. He could still see in general, he knew what people's faces looked like and where he was going. But specifics were lost on him, and the night looked like eternal darkness rather than the sparkling stars and planets he'd been told about.

"I helped create some of those," he mumbled to himself.

Then he closed his eyes, needing to not look at what he couldn't see. It still hurt, as though the wound wasn't thousands of years old. But it never properly healed in the first place.

He felt a weight against his foot and heard a thud within a matter of seconds, and he blinked in surprise. At his feet, a young woman was crumpled to the ground. His foot was sticking out in the pathway. Whoops.

He thought about rising to help her, then thought better of it. Beelzebub didn't need another reason to hate him. So he sat still and watched the woman get onto her hands and knees, glaring at him.

"Not going to help are you?"

"No, I think I'm keen to just watch," Crowley responded. She rolled her eyes, getting onto her feet and dusting off her toga. He examined her quickly, not knowing what to make of her. Then, she said something entirely unexpected.

"Keep your foot out of the way, asshole."

It wasn't a particularly inspired remark, nothing witty or threatening. But it was the fact that a random woman said that to him, a demon, without prompting. And with that remark, she walked away.

"Damnation on you eternally," Crowley murmured, waving his hand in a flourish towards the woman. He doesn't know why he said it, he's never really said it like that before and he certainly didn't why he even added the 'eternally' bit. But whatever the reason, he said it.

Though he knew she was too far away to hear him, she turned and looked back. And found a brief moment, maybe it was the trick of the light, he saw a golden shine pass over her eyes. She smirked shyly, then turned and walked away. And with each step, Crowley felt his heart pulse in a way he hadn't felt before.

1377—————

There was complete silence in the cathedral as a young boy, only aged 10 and dressed in trousers, walked through the crowd towards the priest. They seemed to hold their breaths as he lay on the floor before God, surrendering himself to Her mercy. Aziraphale watched the coronation. He had mixed feelings about the child, Richard. He wasn't a particular fan of the whole 'king' concept, but he thought the honoring to God bit was a nice touch. He wore simple enough clothes to note stand out, yet nice to enough to be recognized as a noble. His layers were in varying degrees of beige as he hid in the very middle of the crowd.

After the 10 minutes on the floor, Richard rose and made his way to the priest where he was being dressed in oil.

"Bit like a salad, eh?" A sultry, baritone voice said from beside Aziraphale, making him shudder. When he looked, it was Crowley. Dressed in similarly simple noble clothes, of course in tones of black and red, he watched the young king as different body parts were coated in oil for different purposes.

"Crowley? How did you get in here? It's a church?" Aziraphale said in a hushed whisper, earning glares from the people beside him. "Sorry Lord Wellington."

"Churches are built by humans."

"And what does that have to do with anything? You're still a demon in a place of worship for God," he said the word 'demon' especially softly for fear someone would turn in a panic at the word 'demon' being said in a cathedral.

"Yeah but it wasn't made by God. It was made for Her, by humans. Totally human structure."

"It is not."

Crowley shrugged his shoulders, "you got a better reason I can come and go in these?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, "I suppose not."

A loud smack echoed through the church and Crowley frowned, "you made me miss the slap, Angel."

"That is your concern?"

Crowley shook his head in frustration, "He's a bloody king now, last time he coulda gotten hit and it's by a priest. S'course I wanted to see it."

"He's a child."

"Not anymore. He's got too much to think about now to be a child."

"No," Aziraphale wondered. "I suppose he's not longer a child at all. You know, dearest, you really do have the grandest thoughts when you think about it."

"Shut up," Crowley replied, his cheeks turning rosy at the compliment.

Within seconds of him saying it, the priest placed the crown on top of boy's head and declared loudly, "Long Live King Richard II!"

The crowd burst into applause as the young king was carried through the cathedral. They whooped and hollered, crying "all hail" and "god save the king" as he passed them by. The boy looked cheerful, pink cheeks and bright curls waving underneath a crown that looked awful heavy for a boy his age. But no, Aziraphale thought, perhaps this was the end of his childhood after all.

"Are you attending the feast afterwards? I hear they will serve beef, and I haven't have beef in decades!"

"Ahh, well I don't know, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in as though he was sharing a conspiratorial secret, "I hear there are miraculously two spots for a Lord Fell and Mr Fell, if you are so inclined."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, eyes hidden beneath his favorite pair of sunglasses, "oh you devil!"

Aziraphale's smile dropped, "don't you say that."

There was a pause as Aziraphale processed the hurtful words, and Crowley processed that he actually cared to make it right to him. Then all at once, they both started speaking on the issue, words overlapping in a frightful mess.

Crowley sighed, "Right I'm sorry -"

"- that really hurts -"

"- I know, I know -"

"- I mean, I am most certainly not fallen -"

"-we had this conversation in 1066 -"

" - I did not appreciate that."

" -I know, Angel. I'm sorry."

After that final note, Aziraphale nodded. "Alright, well. Thank you."

They started to walk together towards the banquet hall not far from there, waiting to indulge in fine wines and beef. There was a large parade towards it, all the nobles and even those fortunate peasants engaged in laughing and singing. Jesters performed stupid dances in their funny hats, knights marched in perfect unison, and songs came pouring from every lute and voice in the area. It was a perfect celebration of a new king, all on their way to fall victim to gluttony, drunkenness, lust, greed and infinitely more temptations.

All things that should fill Crowley's heart with a miserable sort of glee. And yet... he felt off. Crowley couldn't explain the feeling in his chest, almost like a nagging telling him things weren't right. But all this temptation, he thought. This ought to be perfect! But it wasn't, and he had a feeling before he even glanced at his Angel that it was because of him.

Sure enough, he was right. Though Aziraphale hadn't said anything, being kind enough to accept Crowley's words at face value and dropping it, but Crowley knew him well enough to know something was wrong. He hadn't made it up to him.

"Angel, a word -" Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's elbow and leading him away from the crowd. As he did so, he missed the way Aziraphale's mouth dropped open, blue eyes fixated on the contact. They'd rarely touched before.

"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked politely but his tone was full of too much passive aggression to really be polite. He stood stock still, arms poised in front of him and looked expectedly at Crowley.

"I- I, I need to..." Satan this was hard. The words felt like glue in Crowley's mouth but he did his best to force them out. "I need to, to s'make it up to you."

"Pardon?"

Oh damn Aziraphale, making Crowley actually communicate. "What I said, I was wrong. You were right. It wasn't right of me and I need to make it because my apology isn't enough."

"I never said that."

"Ah, yeah, you never said it. But you's do this thing with your face when you's upset. And my words aren't getting there. Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

They waited a moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, a large crash came from parade and the two looked over in surprise. The musicians were playing a long, one very eager man slamming the cymbals that caused such a loud sound. Behind them another jester bobbled along a delicate little dance, flourishing his arms on either side before turning and doing a bow.

Crowley saw Aziraphale's eyebrows raise, the corner of his cute little mouth twitch up and a finger pointed towards the little dance. He ran to stop it, saying, "no, no, no, I'm not doing that."

"Come now-"

"A dance? You want an 'I was wrong, You were right dance'? You can't be serious, Angel."

"I am serious, you wily serpent. Now do the little dance or I'll never forgive you," Aziraphale said in mock frustration, puffing out his chest.

Crowley saw before him a choice, between what his lot were bound to and Aziraphale. And without a second thought, he chose Aziraphale. He would choose Aziraphale every time, he just didn't know it yet. And so, despite all the humiliation he knew this would cause him if the bosses down under ever found out, Crowley did the little dance.

Aziraphale watched, eyebrows raised in shock. He hadn't thought Crowley would do it. Certainly not for him. But as Crowley bowed, enunciating his t's with a flourish, he couldn't help but smile.

"Very nice."

"Are we good, now?"

Aziraphale beamed, "quite right, dearest. We are quite right."

Crowley let out a breath, adjusting his glasses as though they would hide that dance from history's books. "Well then, let's get a move on."

The pair followed the parade into the banquet hall, and continued with the affair. Aziraphale literally wiggled in his seat when the food was placed before him, so excited he couldn't sit still. Crowley drank the wine, actually quite good for English wine.

Then the dancing started. King Richard - now Richard II - climbed on top of the table and proclaimed everyone to dance. And so, the nobles in their fancy gowns, drunk and laughing to no end, jumped from their seats to join in the dance. Aziraphale sat still for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Angels don't dance, not really. But this Angel longed to dance.

Crowley saw the way his fingers tapped along the table to the beat. He groaned, getting up from his seat.

"S'alright Angel, up up."

"Pardon -"

"You heard what I said. Come on Angel, let's dance."

Aziraphale giggled and got up, following Crowley into the chaos of swirling dresses and flirtatious looks between anyone and everyone. Almost immediately they were separated, swung by different partners.

Crowley danced with an older woman who squeezed his buttocks when she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't fond of dancing, not the way Aziraphale was, but he enjoyed the freedom of it all. There were no rules, not really. Yes some people liked the structured ones where you pose and turn on every 3rd beat or what not. But in dancing there was an air of just living - being truly alive. That's what it was all about, it's all anyone yearned to feel.

In the next turn to switch partners, time seemed to slow for Crowley. He saw her, flitting between the people to slide her arm into Crowley's and continue the dance. She was pretty in an unconventional way. A way society might not call beautiful, but made Crowley stop and stare. He was pulled towards her, as though he couldn't control it. She was the center of his focus and he wanted nothing more than to meet her. Then, she turned that pretty gaze on him. Her lips quirked into a smile, hands warm and soft as they held his tightly. Her skin was flushed from the dance, and her dress swung around her in bright, dashing colors. The last dance had ended and all the people were gasping for air yet still ready to dive into the next.

"Hello," she said softly, though somehow he heard her voice over the crowd.

"Hello," Crowley answered back, not sure what to do. He'd never been in this position before.

"A dance?" She asked, taking a deep bow before holding her hand out. Palm up. She wore one, golden signet ring.

"I'd love to," Crowley answered honestly, taking her hand and pulling her into him.

She giggled happily, throwing an arm around his neck as he led the pair towards the center of the dance floor. He started to laugh along with her. Their dancing wasn't particularly good, both of them knew that, but they were having fun. She would twirl away only to twirl back into him awkwardly, laughing so hard she snorted which only caused a barking laughter from Crowley. They continued forward, holding each other close until the final pull drew them chest to chest. She was shorter than he, and she glanced up through dark lashes.

"Hi," she murmured, her breath hitting Crowley's face. She smelled of wine and temptation. He looked into her eyes and there it was - that one moment in history he thought was a fluke.

It had been 1,432 years, not like he was counting, but he didn't forget the way the golden band seemed to fleet over her eyes back in 55BC. And now, he saw that same golden shine slide over the same pair of eyes. It was just a second and yet it made Crowley's mouth drop. She saw it too, but for different reasons. He watched as she looked at his lips, he could tell what she was thinking.

She went to lean in, breasts pressed against his chest and breath hot, but was ripped away by the next dance. She giggled wildly as she was pulled into a circle, but found herself glancing over her shoulder to stare at the handsome stranger she almost kissed.

As Crowley stood in the middle of the floor, mystified, Aziraphale went over to his table to get a drink. All this dancing was positively amazing, but it certainly drained one of their energy.

As he brought the cup to his lips, a body crashed into his, sending the crimson liquid all over his clothes.

"Oh, bugger," he said, setting the cup down to assess the damage.

"I am so sorry, sir!" A girl said, breathless as she ran over. "That was entirely my fault. Please, let me help you clean it. I'm sure there's a tub not far."

Aziraphale smiled politely and went to decline the kind offer, but when he looked into her eyes he found himself agreeing to go with her. She lit up with excitement, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. There was something about her, something he couldn't explain. But he was in awe of her movements and eager to learn more about her.

She turned into an empty hall near a bathroom. She had him wait here while she collected a basin of water and grease.

"I can't promise it will fully work," she said as she set it down, "but I'll do my best. I really am so sorry, sir. I would have never ruined your clothes intentionally."

"It's quite alright. They weren't my favorite anyway," he said as he removed the outer layer. His multiple layers undergarments were fine, and could suffer slight staining. It was the outer garment that changed the most.

She shook her head as she dunked it in the basin, "you can't mean that, sir."

"I find that I quite do," he said, watching her with a quite awe.

"What's your name, sir? I feel I've seen you before," she said, suddenly watching him with the same astute attention. She kept narrowing her eyes as though she'd remember.

Maybe it was the stain, the wine, the party, the demon nearby, or maybe it was just this woman that did it to him but without realizing, he answered honestly, "Aziraphale."

Her eyes lit up, "like the Angel?"

"Precisely, my dear."

"That's a beautiful name. Aziraphale, Aziraphale... can you believe it?" She mumbled the last bit to herself, rubbing liberal amounts of grease into the fabric.

"Do you have a connection to the name? Or the Angel, perhaps?" Aziraphale asked curiously, wanting to hear more about her.

"I do, strangely enough. It's a silly connection..." she said, absentmindedly turning the signet ring over and over on her hand.

"I rather find that when it comes to angels and demons, nothing is silly." Aziraphale chose to neglect some of the more strange decisions the staff had made.

"I, well, oh goodness it sounds all made up. Well, I was in the shops the other day. My friend makes jewelry and he's very good. I came by and he said a man dropped off this gold signet ring with the name Aziraphale burned into it. Said he didn't know what to do with it, not many people knows the Angel, and he gave it to me." She took the ring off her finger, staring at it with an admiration before holding it out to him. "It's your name. You should have it."

"Oh I couldn't possibly take from you, dear."

She shook her head, "no it's not taking. It's a gift. It's fate, that I should have a ring for an Aziraphale just before meeting one of my very own."

"Oh dear, I couldn't -"

She interrupted him by pressing a soft kiss to the ring, taking his hand and sliding it onto his pinky finger. When she looked up, still holding his hand, Aziraphale's jaw dropped. That golden shine. Where had he seen that before? It was brief, flashing over a pair of kind eyes, but it was there all the same.

"Please accept this, Aziraphale."

"I - I will. Thank you, my dear."

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale saw her after that night. They didn't know her name, her status, or even really remember her outfit. If Cinderella was around, she would have been the prime candidate for it. Neither told each other about their experience with a strange woman until 150 years later as they talked about Henry VIII's decision to have Anne Boleyn beheaded. Nasty business that was.

1601—————

"He's really quite good," Aziraphale said, watching fondly as the actor of Hamlet lamented about life and death. It really was moving the way he toyed between truly living a life, or if death was not truly what life was about.

Aziraphale found himself doing that 'excited sigh' that Crowley described. He found it an odd way of saying his behaviors, but Crowley insisted that when Aziraphale was excited it wasn't a 'satisfied sigh' but an 'excited sigh.' To be fair, he'd said this after 2 whole bottles of wine and a shot of pure vodka, so Aziraphale couldn't grant its true authenticity. A drunk demon would truly say anything just to illicit a reaction.

The speech made him wonder what it was like to be a human, with no certainty about what happens with their souls. They don't have a guarantee about life, or death, and yet are expected to do as they are told with no questions. Crowley knew what it was like to ask questions, and it lead to scars even Aziraphale didn't know about.

"Ngk, s'pose so." Crowley grumbled, watching as the man stamped his foot on the stage. "Bit dramatic, no?"

"It'd a tragedy!" Aziraphale countered, furrowing his brows in surprise.

"Eh, I still prefer the funny ones."

Aziraphale shook his head, turning to watch the man on the stage. A flash of purple fabric caught his eye, and his gaze traveled to see a young woman peaking out from behind the railing. She was trying to stay hidden, but Aziraphale could see that she just couldn't resist the temptation to watch the rehearsal. Her eyes were bright and wide, soaking in the sight. Her clothes were dirty and well worn, a few sizes too big and the hem covered in a layer of mud. But despite it all, she looked entirely unique.

She was pretty, and Aziraphale didn't often feel as though many humans were pretty. He appreciated the art of humanity, and believed each human was their own work of art. But he didn't feel a pull to any of them, but her... she had an attraction to her. He could see her lean too far over the edge, as though the stage were dragging her in. It wasn't just a love and an admiration, it was an addiction. Aziraphale could see what was going to happen moments before it did, but it was too late. The girl tumbled over the edge and fell onto the floor of the Globe, catching the attention of everybody in the rehearsal space.

Her cheeks immediately blotted pink, covering her face in a rosy hue as the stage manager came to her with a snarl, "oi, who're you?"

"I-I-"

"You's not supposed to be 'ere," he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet. She stumbled along as he pulled her to the entrance. "Out with you."

"Mary? Whatcha doin here?" Crowley called out, sauntering over to the man and the girl. The man stopped, looking at Crowley with a skeptical gaze. The girl's eyes widened, bright and eager, as she realized what Crowley was doing and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes, sir, I came to fetch you! Mistress Paulson requested you." She said quickly, trying to stand on her own despite the stage manager's tight grasp.

The man cocked an eyebrow, "oh yeah? You know's him?"

"Know me? Know me?" Crowley sauntered over with a cackle, "me's and Mary goes way back."

She nodded, ripping her arm from the man's grasp then standing politely. "Oh yes, Mr..."

"Oh don't bother with all the Mr Crowley Miss whatever business, just call me Anthony like any other bloke."

"Anthony has helped my sister much. He's an excellent doctor," she said, standing firm. Aziraphale watched her in awe, he was impressed. She picked up that Crowley was saving her quickly, easing into the lie with an expert comfort. She seemed familiar, as though they'd met her before. And most importantly, she was intelligent.

"Doctor? You didn't mention that about your friend," the man said to Aziraphale, his enunciation so poor he practically spat the words at Aziraphale's feet.

Aziraphale flashed a charming smile, "I hadn't realized that those particular skills would, uh, come up in a theatre of this, err,... caliber."

"I haven't the pleasure of meeting you, sir." The girl piped up, her smile was warm and gentle. But he could see in her eyes a tension, wanting to convince this man to not throw her out or worse - press charges. "My's names Mary Edwins. Friend of Mr Crowley."

Mary Edwins, clearly a fake name. Just basic enough to be believable, but enough slight hesitation that Aziraphale knew she was lying. She gave a little curtesy, spreading the oversized purple skirt over the floor. It really was too large, but she still looked charming. Aziraphale felt as though he'd seen that curtesy before. There it was, fast you could have blamed the lighting, Aziraphale knew better. There that same golden shine came over her eyes, if just for a moment. His mouth fell open in a little 'o,' unable to speak for a while 10 seconds before stuttering out, "oh, h-hello Miss Edwins, I'm Mr Fell."

The stage manager thought on it for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to care. It was hours away from opening night, after all, and the little boy playing Ophelia needed alterations in his costume.

"Alright then," he said, walking back towards the director, a Mr William Shakespeare.

The girl was still a few feet away as Crowley walked dramatically back towards Aziraphale. The Angel tried to ignore it. He hadn't mentioned that part of it with Crowley, and he didn't know how to continue. Crowley mistook Aziraphale's expression as one of angelic smugness and rose a finger, "shut it, Angel."

"That was a good thing you did," he said with a little smile. He pushed it to the back of his mind, something to worry about when it was late and the city was asleep.

"Twasn't good, no. I was, real, I - I - I was bad. I let a criminal get away."

Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder, "no, dearest. You let a woman enjoy her passion. Look at her, you've saved her."

The pair glanced over at her as she tried, and failed, to subtly watch the actors get ready for their next scene. Her hand was on her heart, as though if she didn't put it there her heart would pop right out.

"Ehhh, that's not saving. Not really."

"Oh, it's not? Then what would you say is a human's purpose?" Aziraphale asked with a soft voice.

"I thought that's your job, Angel. Praising God and what not."

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away from Crowley. "You know as well as I that love of God is not all humans were made for. I am of the firm opinion they are here for their passions. They survive by it. They might be able to live with food and water alone, but no soul could truly exist without their drive. And this woman, her passion is theatre."

"Rather blasphemous words from an Angel."

"Rather kind actions from a demon."

Aziraphale smiled, looking towards the stage. Crowley tried to hide the blush on his ears and cheeks. It was always his ears that turned bright red from, from, well he didn't quite know from what. But he felt the heat and looked away. He looked at the girl, who perked your once she realized he saw her. She went over shyly.

Despite her apprehension, she raised her voice enough to say, "thank you for your help, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

"Mmm," was Crowley reply, gazing around the globe with a distinguished air about him. As if he was the most important person in the room. He tried to ignore her presence. She had a pull to her and he couldn't explain it, didn't want to address it. He already had the issue of a certain Angel who wouldn't leave his mind.

"Who are we to stop the love of the arts?" Aziraphale said, rather eccentrically. "Though you could have waited a few hours to see the whole show."

"I can't afford it," she said quietly, staring at her feet. Aziraphale noted her sweet little boots, their pointed ends digging into the dirt out of anxiety. "My mistress only gave me the morning. I need to be back in an hour."

Crowley and Aziraphale shot a glance with one another, not quite knowing how to respond. They stood in silence, the girl's eyes wide as she drank in Ophelia's mad lullabies.

"What's your name?"

"Mary Edwins."

Crowley smiled, "nice try, love. Your real name."

She cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at first at Crowley, then at Aziraphale, before looking back at her reflection in his sunglasses. "Why do you want to know?"

"We did help you, dear. We'd just love to know you, but if you cannot tell us, we won't rush you."

"Are you two a couple?" She asked quickly, pointing at the two and waving her hands in some strange, gesture of coupling. Her choice of question was so drastic, they didn't bother to notice the intentional diversion in topics.

Aziraphale looked up, mouth dropping in a little 'o' and he looked at Crowley. Crowley lifted a brow. Aziraphale answered, "We've known each other for a long time."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Fell."

"Aren't you a sly one, Miss Edwins." Crowley sneered, his top lip recoiling.

She just smiled, shrugging her shoulders with a little giggle. "Suppose so, Mr Crowley."

The golden shine. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath as she turned to look back at the stage. He could practically hear all his thoughts as they raced through his head, and he was unable to settle on just one. Those eyes. He hadn't seen them in years and yet this was the third woman who just happened to flirt with him, and had a gold shine go across her eyes. He reckoned she didn't know it happened, she probably didn't know what those little eyes could do to an immortal creature. Crowley swallowed, praying she never had to.

Then, the show continued and 'Mary's' eyes seemed transfixed. Aziraphale loved the theatre, Crowley enjoyed it, but 'Mary' adored it.

Crowley watched her eagerly, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked feeling her passion in his soul as though it was her own. He found himself attracted to it, a drag of one's purpose. The passion filled her up, and she seemed to want to lean into it. She gasped as Hamlet killed his mother, she listened with eager ears as he instructed the actors on how they were to act, she cried as it seemed that everyone fell to the floor in a miserable death. Then, it was over. Actors stumbled to their feet, laughing as though they weren't stabbed with poisoned rapiers. The story was over, but 'Mary' seemed to be in a daze. Crowley watched with shrewd, yet eager eyes as she came out of it.

Then she straightened her back, smiling tightly to both of them. "Mr Fell, Mr Crowley, thank you for letting me stay. It has been such a gift. I'm afraid I must go."

"Let us escort you home," Aziraphale said, without realizing what he was offering.

She blinked wide eyes, "there's no need, sir. It's two blocks away."

Crowley lifted his chin, "love, we'd like to see you off safe."

"If you insist. Though I must tell you it's entirely through the city. Eyes will be on you at all times," she said it as a threat, a reminder to not do anything unsavory. Crowley almost frowned at that little bit of false hope. If they actually had bad intentions, a crowd wouldn't stop anything. She wasn't truly safe. But both Crowley and Aziraphale nodded, as though they truly headed her warning.

"Was that your first Shakespeare production?" Aziraphale asked, making polite conversation as he walked on one side of her, Crowley on the other.

"Oh, no. I do my best to attend all of them. I tend to prefer the funny ones, but the crowds can be a bit much for me."

"Eh? What'd you mean by that?" Crowley asked.

She blushed, "I don't like when crowds get very loud. They tend to jeer and toss things at the actors. It doesn't feel safe for anyone. I do enjoy his dramas though."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before she asked the next question, "what do you two do? If I may, you're dressed rather odd."

"Odd?" Crowley asked with a frown, gazing down at his outfit. He was quite proud of this outfit. The ruff was amazing, really helped one feel confident.

'Mary' giggled. "I don't dislike your outfits, you just don't see these colors often."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance, shifting in their outfits. Perhaps they do cling to their colors a bit much. But Aziraphale never felt it was a problem, he was proud of his wardrobe.

"I make my own clothes," Aziraphale said with a smile.

'Mary' lightened up, her eyes taking on a bright, sparkling quality before she actually smiled, a little tell that Aziraphale noticed. He'd seen that before, but couldn't place it. "That is quite wonderful, Mr Fell. I'd love to make my own, however I mostly sew for my mistress."

"You make her clothes?"

"Oh no, I tend to mend them."

The conversation lulled again, and Crowley bit his lip as he thought before asking the question that has been on his tongue since the play ended, "why do you love theatre so much?"

Her chest flared, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she could barely contain the words before they poured from her in excited spurts, "what's not to love? It's stories about being human wrapped up in fancy costumes and dramatic voices. It's full of stories that seem so outrageous yet we still find our way to connect. Isn't it just fascinating that you could watch a show about a man, driven mad by jealousy caused by a deceiving friend, murdering his wife and leave full of emotions? You'd think you'd be mad at the murderer, condemning him for killing his love. And yet, there's more to it than that. You can't quite hate Othello, but you can't love him either. It's so hard to explain what it is to be human, there's no word or sentence to explain it. It can be so isolating. But these stories can give us insight. I, sorry, I'm rambling," she said, taking a wistful sigh.

"Stories can be found anywhere, dear. Books, especially," Aziraphale noted. He enjoyed hearing her speak with such fire. In the back of his mind, he felt as though he could recall someone else talking about their love of stories, but he couldn't place it.

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. And I adore books too. It's just... theatre is such a temporary art. Those moments on stage, or watching, could never be recreated, it could never be exactly as it was. And that's what made it so beautifully tragic. You are stuck with a slightly different story each night, with different takeaways."

"What a beautiful takeaway," Aziraphale said, watching her with a slight sort of awe.

She blushed, "I'm hardly unique in that way."

"Ngk," Crowley mumbled in disagreement, though he didn't actually say a word. Yet, she seemed to still understand what he was trying to say and blushed all the same.

As they walked, Crowley took off his sunglasses for a moment to wipe his eyes. He seemed to forget that his were unusual, yellow and with a snake like slit as a pupil.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"M'yeah," Crowley answered, opening his eyes to look at her. After the initial realization he was seeing her without glasses, thus revealing the snake like eyes, he went to shove the sunglasses back on. But she wasn't looking unkindly at him.

Instead, she smiled widely, "they're beautiful."

"Wot?" He said in shock.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Mr Crowley." Then, as Crowley sputtered in surprise, she stopped in front of an expensive flat. "This is me mistress's. Thank you, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

She looked both of them in the eyes as she said their names, and with equal kindness and appreciation. Then, she turned away and scampered around towards the servants entrance. Aziraphale waited until she was inside to blow out a breath.

"She was something," Crowley said.

"Yes, she was."

"I- angel, I could be wrong on this but didn't she feel-"

"Familiar?" Aziraphale finished for Crowley, looking down the alley as though she would magically reappear.

"Yes! It's so bloody weird," Crowley said, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

"Yes, weird," Aziraphale said, enunciating weird in an odd way that made Crowley furrow his brows. The two beings tried to shrug off this encounter, heading their separate ways for the time being.

1865—————

Aziraphale stared at Crowley as though he'd never seen him before, utterly gobsmacked. "I will not provide you that, that thing! It's suicide."

"Aw not for that Angel," Crowley groaned, waving his hand nonchalantly as though he hadn't asked for the one thing that would completely kill him. "Just for, err you know, protection."

"You are a demon, Crowley. The world would need protection from you."

Crowley tried to not let that sting. He'd never said as much to Aziraphale, but these last 200 years have really brought some perspective over what it is to be a demon. He found a weird sense of discomfort over the word demon. As though he were entirely bad because of what he was, and not what he does. But he'd never say it, or tell Aziraphale he accidentally rhymed.

"It's not like that, I just want to secure myself. That's all."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked away, not bearing the thought that his closest acquaintance would dare to think of something like that. It was simply not going to happen, Aziraphale refused to let that happen. Crowley was going to live forever, with Aziraphale, and he was going to do so happily. He'd never tell Crowley, of course, but Aziraphale didn't know if he could manage eternity without him.

"Oi! That can't have that!" Crowley said quickly, throwing himself off the bench and facing towards a woman standing by the river.

She turned to look at the, in her view, random man dressed in mourning garb barreling towards her and shouting in a thick accent. She clutched the loaf of bread close to her chest, eyeing him warily as he continued rambling.

"Bread's not good for 'em, it can - can - can cause diseases," he said once he got close to her.

She sucked in a breath. He was taller than he'd looked from afar, and she found herself staring at him. He was also quite handsome, with tanned skin and shocking bright red hair, curled away from his face. She noticed a pair of odd looking spectacles hiding his eyes, and a tattoo peaking out beneath his sideburns.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said breathlessly. She felt kind of stupid now, holding a loaf of bread as he stared at her with a passion for the ducks. A man dressed in all beige apparel came by quickly, standing by the other man's side. He looked kind, with bright blue eyes and plush pink lips she didn't even realize she'd taken note of.

"I'm terribly sorry for my friend's outburst," Aziraphale said to the woman, still looking shellshocked. "Though I'm afraid he is right, bread is not the best for them."

She looked down and stared at it. "Right, well I apologize. I hadn't been doing it long, if it's of any comfort."

Crowley grumbled but didn't say anything else, eyeing her with skepticism. After a pause where the three stood in silence, the woman tore the loaf into three sections. She then offered up a piece to each of the men, "better we eat it than them?"

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, they hadn't expected this. Maybe it was the mood of St James's Park or the pull of this young girl, but they reached out to accept their proffered piece.

Just then a golden shine passed over her eyes. Both men's jaws dropped as they'd never shared of this particular detail of their stories, and had never experienced it together. And, for the first time, she seemed conscious of it too.

A hand went up to her cheeks just below her eyes, which had grown wide in surprise. "What was that?"

"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked in that slightly tense voice he had when he was covering up for something.

"The, my, my eyes. I was looking and then it went all - gold like."

"Oh I don't know about that," Aziraphale said.

She shook her head vehemently, pointing at the both of them. "Yours did too, and yours!"

"You saw our eyes shine gold?" Crowley asked shyly.

"Y-yes. I saw through your spectacles. The whole eye, it went gold -"

"It must have been a trick of the light, dearest. Eyes don't 'go gold.'"

She shook her head again, "no. I know what I saw. I, I think I'd better go. Thank you for the, the, the ducks."

"Wait-" "Don't go-" Aziraphale and Crowley started at the same time, but she'd already lifted her skirts so she could walk away as quickly as possible.

"She saw it this time," Crowley said, mouth open in surprise.

"This time? This time? You've had a girls eyes shine gold before?" Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the way his heart ramped up at the news. Crowley felt it too, it wasn't all him.

"And by the sound of it, you have too."

"Yes, I have. But only thrice before, 55BC, 13-"

"-77 and 1601."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened and he stared at Crowley in shock, "I- I, how did you know?"

"Same for me, Angel. Same for me."

"So she's connected then, to the both of us." Aziraphale said slowly, trying to work it all out in his head. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips and making a 'tsk' noise under his breath.

"She's looked different each time. I don't think she's an Angel or a demon," Crowley said, ripping off a small piece of the bread she gave him and tossing it into the water. No, it wasn't good for them but who cares at this point. They were eternally connected to something.

"No, I think you're quite right. She's something else entirely. I'll have to do some research, I'll let you know if I have anything of note."

Crowley swallows, "same 'ere."

"Okay. Well then, good afternoon to you," Aziraphale tipped his hat and wandered off back to his book shop, his head completely filled with ideas of shapeshifters and witches, all sorts of creatures.

Current Day—————

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Aziraphale's shop, the wheel a slight tap before getting out. It was cold today, and he saw dozens of people shuffling into Nina's shop for some warmth. He himself was freezing but he knew even slightly suggesting to Aziraphale would earn him some pampering, blanket tucked in, hot chocolate, and near undivided angelic attention. Normally he didn't like asking for it, but it's been a weird few years with the Armageddon't, and he could use some pampering.

He felt a pang in his chest, a strange sort of pull he didn't know what to do with. What did humans do when their hearts hurt? Then it struck him - he wasn't human. Why would his heart be hurting?

"Oi, you doing okay?" A voice said from the pavement outside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley looked up, surprised to see Nina with a bag full of ingredients.

"What're you doing out

She held up the bag with a raised brow, as though he was stupid to just suggest it, "you're alright then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But you haven't got other staff and the place's full."

"Oh, yeah, forgot you didn't know about that." Nina said dryly. "I hired a new barista. Name's Y/N. New to town."

There it was, that pull dragging him towards her shop. He couldn't explain, tried to rack his brain as to what would want him in there. He glanced back through the windows, trying to see if anything was amiss.

Each instance with her seemed to last for a second, barely enough to know if it was the truth or a trick of the light. But Crowley had lived long enough on enough stupid planets to know that when he saw something that wasn't typically there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He swallowed, trying to betray anything to Nina.

"Right. Well then, better get back to it," he said, moving past her shoving his way into Aziraphale's bookshop.

"Oh Crowley, wonderful you're here-"

"Yes, yes, I'm wonderful, you're wonderful, the world's bloody wonderful. Angel, do you remember in 1865 when we saw her in St James's Park?"

There wasn't a need to clarify who the 'her' was. Aziraphale straightened, removing his spectacles from his nose. "Yes, I do."

"And you remember when you said you'd research it and report back, but never did?"

"Yes, I do. Crowley-"

"I need that research now, Angel." Crowley said quickly, not letting Aziraphale ask more pointless questions.

"Nothing came of it, dear, that's why I'd never told you. We would have sensed if she was a witch, angel, demon, or anything other supernatural. We have those senses."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Crowley, what happened? What did you see?"

"She's here."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up and he placed a surprise hand on his chest, not quite knowing what to do with that information. "Here?!"

"In London. In the coffee shop, in Nina's coffee shop. I - I saw her. There was a golden thread between us. I know it's her, Angel. She looks different but she has every time. It's her."

"You saw a golden thread?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale put his spectacles back on, heading for one of his bookshelves towards the back of the shop, "are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Angel, I'm bloody positive."

"A Golden thread has never shown up before. The previous times were all the, err, the eyes. This means something." Aziraphale said, gathering the dusty book from his shelf and depositing it on his desk with a thud. "In Greek mythology the golden thread was your life line. Your life thread so to speak. Fate, destiny, the whole nine yards."

"Yes, Angel, but the Greeks were wrong and that's how we exist so what does it mean for us?" Crowley grabbed a chair and fell into it, placing a frustrated hand on his temple.

Aziraphale thumbed through pages until he found what he was looking for. He read the words, but it only helped to scrunch his brow. "This doesn't make any sense. The threads only have two colors, two avenues."

"What do the threads mean, Angel?" His tone pained in frustration. This girl was scaring him, and he couldn't explain why. As far as he knew she presented no threat to him. And yet all the same, he feared her. He wasn't a fan of the unknown. Everything had been so planned out for so long, even though he didn't like the idea of the world ending it was a plan nonetheless.

"It says here that white thread is for eternal blessings. Saints and what not. Black thread for eternal damnation. But it only exists on a human while they are alive."

"Wot? I don't see black threads on people, d'you see white threads?"

Aziraphale adjusted his spectacles, "it says here they only appear if an Angel, or in your case, dearest, a demon, specifically bless them. Or, err, curse them."

"Still, you'd think 6,000 years and I woulda seen something."

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, "I've not seen any either."

"Wait, how'd you know about all this then?" Crowley waved a hand vaguely in between Aziraphale and the book.

Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, "all this? Oh, ah, you mean how I've come to know about the threads? Well it is to my understanding that this was brought up by Michael -"

"Head honcho Michael?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, though I wouldn't use such human terms myself. Michael had thought it up around 100BC. Thought it would be a fun way of identifying humans. But the upstairs didn't fancy the idea, She dispelled it not too long after."

"Hmm... never woulda pictured that out of Michael."

"Well, they say you never really know someone." Aziraphale replied, looking back over the pages as Crowley began to ramble.

"Always thought that applied to killers. No one ever says that 'bout the good deeds, they only say it after you've hurt someone. If someone's killed a kid, everyone's all up in arms like 'you never really knew 'em.' But if someone's a paramedic no one's like 'you never really know-'"

Aziraphale felt his jaw drop open as the words at the bottom of the page finally clicked. Part of the reason Michael's plan never worked, at least according to Gabriel, was that the wording was too specific. "No one uses 'eternally' in their everyday vocabulary," he had argued. Back then Aziraphale had quite agreed with Gabriel, but everyone agreed with Gabriel if it meant shutting Michael up. But he remembered a time not long before the thread idea was vanished when he had used the word 'eternally' in conversation. He reread to be sure, then piped up over Crowley's random complaining, "C-Crowley... do you remember what you said to her in 55BC?"

Crowley's face scrunched as he tried to think all the way back. "I, uh, tripped her. On accident, then she called me an asshole and I-I damned her for eternity I think."

"Oh dear."

"What does this 'oh dear' me? Angel?" When Aziraphale didn't say anything Crowley got up, stalking over to him quickly. "What did you see?"

"I blessed her for eternity."

"So? What's that mean?"

"I-I think, and I could be very very wrong, however I think that means we've, err, we've trapped her soul in an endless strain between Heaven and Hell."

"No, no, no, no," Crowley started to say, unconsciously pacing as he tried to unravel it all in his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Her thread is gold, white and black don't make gold. It makes grey, she should be grey!"

"I think the color of her thread is far from our biggest issue, Crowley."

"So, so what? She's trapped to us?"

Aziraphale ran a hand down his face, trying to process. "I- she might be."

"But her body's changed each time. It's not the same woman."

"Ah, but her eyes. They've stayed the same. You know as well as I do they're the same."

Crowley stopped, knowing he didn't have grounds to argue. Aziraphale was right, after all. Then he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell-"

"Language," Aziraphale said with pursed lips.

"Wot? For the fucking or the hell part?" Crowley snapped, then upon seeing Aziraphale's dropped expression he immediately retracted. "I'm sorry. That was rude. You're not getting the stupid dance though. Angel, she's not immortal. Her soul is. She must just keep being, being reborn. But the soul from 55BC is still the same."

"That would make sense," Aziraphale said. "They do say the eyes are the window into the soul. Perhaps that explains why they remain while the rest of her can change."

"Yeah, yeah. It makes sense, don't it?"

"So we've accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth to live and die for eternity?"

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley sniffed. "Think we did, Angel."

There was a quiet pause as the two reflected on what they just realized. They, unwittingly, had created an immortal creature. She doesn't even know she's immortal, and by the past experience it sounds as if her mind is wiped with each death. But her soul lives on.

"Fuck," Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley looked up sharply, "wot'd you say?"

"I said fuck." He repeated, with more confidence this time around.

On any normal circumstance, Crowley would laugh and cherish the moment he saw Aziraphale curse - and with fuck of all of them - but he couldn't help but think Aziraphale was right. Fuck, indeed.

"What do we do?" Crowley asked.

"We have to tell her."

"We do? Why's that? What d'ya think we're gonna say? Hi random stranger I'm a demon he's an Angel and your soul is stuck, here have a cuppa."

"Well that would be straightforward -"

"Sarcasm, Angel. You've been here for thousands of years and you still don't process sarcasm."

Aziraphale stood up and went over to Crowley, touching his shoulders so he'd look up to him. "I understand that this is difficult. This is, it's entirely unprecedented territory. But she deserves the truth." He leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "It does help that we both feel a pull to her. Once we see her, it hurts to no interact. Perhaps we can find a way to end this, to help her."

Crowley swallowed, looking away from Aziraphale's bright blue eyes. He smelled of vanilla and old books, a scent Crowley would bottle up and spray all over his stupid, cold flat if he could. Maybe this girl could help, maybe she was good. But they first needed to meet her.

"Alright. Fine. Let's go, now," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses back on. Aziraphale nodded and retrieved his coat.

The pair walked out of the bookshop, locking up, and swiftly walked cross the street. They hesitated outside the door, neither knowing what to do. A flash of a blue apron in the window caught their attention, and then a golden thread, shining in the light, emerged and wrapped round the owners waist.

"You seeing that, Angel?"

"Y-yes, I am. It's not faded."

It didn't. It sparkled and swayed in the air, moving with the owners body as she walked around in the shop.

"On three," Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled in agreement. "One, two ... three."

They opened the doors and were almost immediately greeted by a sweet smile and kind eyes. The same eyes they'd seen for hundreds of years. She smiled, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi guys, welcome in! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like, I'll be with you in a moment."

"O-okay," Aziraphale said, his voice wispy in the confusion and whirlwind that was her. But she was entirely unaware, blissfully living in her own world that she didn't know was about to be ruined.

They sat in a far corner, away from any windows. Crowley sprawled in the seat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. Aziraphale sat stiff as a bored, left leg bouncing so furiously the table itself started to shake.

"Right, what can I get you lads?" She seemed to appear out of nowhere, shining golden thread wrapped round her sweet waist right where the apron was tied.

Aziraphale spoke first, not looking her in the eye but instead staring out the window. An uncharacteristically rude action on his part. "Oh, um, just a latte please. With 3 shots of vanilla."

"Ooo, yum. And for you, the one with the glasses?" She asked, her voice light.

Crowley thought for a moment. Better bite the bullet, eh? He turned, took his sunglasses off, and looked her in the eyes. "Espresso, darling."

Her eyes had a golden flash and she seemed to jump, her pad falling to the table in her shock. She looked between Aziraphale and Crowley with wide eyes, hands going to her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Aziraphale. Your name is Aziraphale," she said to him. Eyes wide. She turned to the demon. "You're Crowley."

"Yes, dear, we are."

"Why do I know that?" Her voice was shaky and yet she stayed, not angry or scared that she knew unknowable information.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley sighed, flicking his hand. Time around them stopped. Customers held their mugs up in the air, Nina mid pouring a cup, and a man getting ready to ask for the most ridiculous drink he could think of. All were trapped in this moment except for her, Aziraphale and Crowley.

She jumped, looking around with wide eyes, "h-how'd you do that? Why did you do that?"

"Please, take a seat dear," Aziraphale said, snapping as a plush chair appeared behind her. She tripped into it, her body language stuff and frightened.

"This is all feeling like a very strange dream, and I don't like it," she said, taking deep breaths to try and clear her mind. "Did you just stop time and if so, how the hell did you? And you just miraculously created a chair? And why do I know who the hell you are?"

"Dearest, it's not a dream, I'm afraid. You have met us before. You've met us multiple times before," Aziraphale took a breath. "I-I'm afraid we have some complicated news."

"Tell me who the hell you are!" She was getting scared, her heart fighting against her rib cage. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run away, put her hands over her ears and scream 'la la la' over and over until they left her alone. But she didn't. It wasn't a physical thing, even though these familiar strangers had put her in a terrifying position she knew they'd let her go. It was her soul that kept her trapped. "Who are you? I need to know. Who are you really?"

Aziraphale placed a warm hand on her own. His was large, soft and yet strong. She liked the feeling of his hands as he held one of hers, looking into her eyes. "My name is Aziraphale. I am an Angel of God. I was the Guardian of the East Gate at the Garden of Eden, but now I am on Earth. I perform miracles and I run a bookshop, with my dearest friend."

His eyes glanced over to the other man. He was handsome, tanned skin with fiery red hair slicked up and back over his head. Aziraphale might have called him a friend, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was more than that, maybe they didn't know it but she definitely did.

Another hand grasped hers, this one lean and long. He grasped her hand with a soft intensity she didn't know possible. "My name's Crowley. I'm a demon, you'd know me cause I was a, uh, let's call me a reptile."

She blinked rapidly, "you were the snake that tempted Eve?"

"Wow, she's a quick one," Crowley smiled widely.

"Wasn't he cursed to only use his belly?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "it's complicated."

"You, both, are not human. You're an Angel and you're a demon. So Christianity is right."

"Yes, love. But God is actually a She, that bit got muddled," Aziraphale smiled. "Are you feeling better?"

"That doesn't explain, why- why do I know you? I recognize both of you, but I don't know why. Then you made that comment about having met me multiple times, for years, what does that mean?" She was getting a little riled but she tried to stay calm. This wasn't going to make any more sense by screaming at a literal demon. And Angel, but the demon was more infuriating at the moment. He stared at her with a mix of awe and shock, and she didn't want to think about any of it.

Aziraphale sighed, "before the current era, you know Roman times and what not, the Archangel Michael played with the idea of threads. It was similar in concept to the Greek idea of fate -"

"You happened to be alive when this was a thing. It means when a demon curses you and says the word 'eternally' a black thread'll appear to let everyone know you're damned forever. White thread with angels."

"I'm damned forever? Wait, you said Roman times - I was alive during the ancient roman era?"

"Well, darling, he blessed you and I cursed you at the same day. Meaning your soul is trapped with both Heaven and Hell," Crowley said softly. "We think your soul has been reincarnated since about 55BC. And it's because of us. This Golden shit you see is our connection."

"But white and black make grey?"

Crowley clapped and said "aha! She gets it!"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, though his eyes were light with amusement. "We can't explain the color of the thread. But we believe it means you're connected to us. Both of us, we get this pull to you when you're around. As though we have to see you."

There was a moment of silence as they let her collect her thoughts. Unconsciously, she'd curled up into a ball on the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled. She thought and thought, rolling over the idea that she's trapped here on earth. An accidental immortal being tied to these two.

She glanced at Aziraphale. She knew him, she has known him. She bit her lip, wishing to understand everything as it was.

"M-May I?" She asked, tentatively lifting a hand near his face. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to try and remember.

The Angel nodded. He was soft, his hair light and white, in short curls on top of his head. She liked the curls, they looked rather fetching on him. Her fingertips brushed lightly down his face, feeling his kind face. She liked his lips, they were pink and couldn't fight a smile. Then she glanced down and saw his hand in his lap. Running an hand down his shoulder to his hand, she lifted it and eyed the golden ring.

"Aziraphale..." she murmured. It all started to fall into place. The dancing, the food, the wine. He'd looked so out of place in pale clothing, so obviously finer than anyone else's. He'd tried to blend in with an outdated style, to balance the richness, but she could spot him through the crowd with ease. His cheeks had gotten pink, and he'd gone for a drink. She hadn't meant to spill on him, she just wanted a chat. "I gave you this ring. You didn't want it at first, but I gave it to you. It says Aziraphale on it."

He took a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. His lips trembled as he said, "you did."

Aziraphale slid the ring off his finger, turning it so she could see the inside. There enough his name was scrawled in haphazard writing. It had faded from the years, some of the details lost to time. But she remembered this ring when it was new. When William had gotten it in his shop and didn't know what to make of it. And she'd taken it, knew it would be special.

She pressed a soft kiss to the ring, then slid it back on Aziraphale's finger. She looked him in the eyes as she kissed the back of his hand, "I remember you."

The tears had actually fallen now, hitting his cheeks softly. He didn't try to hide it, and she wouldn't want him to. Perhaps it was this whole eternal blessing thing, but she was drawn to him.

Then she turned to the demon. Crowley. He sat high and mighty in his chair, looking away as though he were intruding on Aziraphale's private moment. He was handsome in a different way than Aziraphale. Where Aziraphale was soft and strong, Crowley was sharp and sweet. She smiled when she looked at him, knowing he was sweet without saying it.

She went to him to, lifting her hand then asking softly, "may I touch you?"

He swallowed, and nodded. She first touched his hair, it was softer then it looked. Her fingertips brushed it so it feel on his forehead, liking the contrast of his skin against the red. Then she traced along his tattoo, the way his cheekbone felt under her touch.

With gentle hands, she cupped his cheeks and turned his face so he had to look her in the eyes. She smiled. "I'd wondered if they were still yellow."

He closed his eyes, cringing. He'd always hated his eyes. "Sorry they're-"

"Beautiful." He opened his eyes quickly. "I remember your eyes. They've been in my dreams and I never knew why. The man with the yellow snake eyes. They are so, so beautiful. Like a sunflower."

"You're comparing s'demon eyes to a sunflower?"

She smiled and nodded, "you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Crowley sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It as though the attention itself would make him implode.

"Keep them closed," she said. Then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss one eyelid, then the other. "Absolutely beautiful. Don't you think so, Aziraphale?"

Crowley was shocked to hear Aziraphale agree. "I adore your eyes, dear. They've been my favorite for a long time."

The three didn't know what to do with themselves, time frozen around them. But however strange the situation, she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She wanted to get to know this Angel and demon, understand their pasts and more about their connection.

“Thank you, my dear, for your patience,” Aziraphale said kindly.

“I suppose I should be thanking you, you’ve waited hundreds of years.” She said with a dry laugh that made Crowley smile.

There weren’t any words that seemed to describe the moment the three of them shared, in a moment frozen in time knowing they had all the time in the world. But for now it was enough, and that was all it needed to be.

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 15 (Non Con)

Kink: Non Con

Pairing: Male!Mermen x Fem!Reader

Other Kinks: Spitroasting, Fingering

Warnings: Non Con, Kidnapping

Word Count: 1092 words

Kinktober Masterlist

“Dude, you’re gonna break her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Port. I know what I’m doing.”

A third finger gets shoved into your pussy, claws blissfully retracted. But the pressure is enough to make you gasp.

“I dunno Starboard.” Port says, brushing a thumb across your face. “There's a lot of water coming out of her face. That doesn’t seem good.”

“Shows how much you know, idiot. That's a sign she feels good.” Starboard thrusts his fingers particular hard inside you, fresh tears bubbling up around your ears. “See? She liked that, didn’t you, sweetheart?” A ribbed tongue comes up, lapping at the fresh tear tracks. You try to jerk your head away, but there's not much space for you to go, not while wrapped in the Orca Merman’s arms. His satisfied chuckle rings in your ear, hot breath reeking of fish. “Plus you gotta stretch ‘em out first. Otherwise they’ll break when you fuck them.”

Port shrugs, more entranced by your heaving tits than the conversation at this point. “If you say so.” He leans forward, grabbing your right breast with a hard grip. Looking at his large hands, feeling those callouses on your skin, you’re glad Starboard was who insisted on finger fucking your pussy.

Your head gets thrown back into Starboard’s chest when Port leans down and sucks on of your nipples, teasing the other on between two fingers. Starboard chuckles again.

“Ooh, I can feel her squeezing. Keep doing that.”

Port just hums, tongue circling around one nipple before he attaches onto the other. Your traitorous cunt grows slicker andd slicker, your juices oozing down Starboard's palm as he splays his fingers outward.

Port detaches his mouth with a pop. His eyes are jet black, cool blue irises covered by his blown out pupil.

“I’m sick of waiting.” He whines. “When can we fuck her?”

“Hmmm.” Starboard hums, thumb rubbing your clit, causing your pussy to gush. “I think that should he good.”

The sounds as Starboard pulls his fingers out are debaucherous, slimy and slick. You can see him holding up his hand in front of your face, ropes of your juices connecting the fingers. Starboard pops his index in his mouth.

“Fuck, thats yummy.”

“No fair! I wanna taste!”

You imagine Starboard rolls his eyes, but he lets Port suck in his fingers. You can see glimpses of his razor sharp teeth, that ribbed tongue lapping at Starboard’s digits.

“That’s good!” Port bounces on his tail, now extra eager. “C’mon, Starboard, I’m ready.”

Despite your delirious mind, you still can make out the large, tapered cock pushing through the slit in Port’s tail. Slick with precum, it’s a almost the size of your arm.

“Fine, but I get her pussy first.” Port moves to whine, but Starboard puts up a hand. “I prepped it, I fuck it. You’ll get to stretch her out later.”

Port pouts, but relents to that logic anyway. You thank the stars, because although both mermen are massive, Port is slightly larger than Starboard, with a cock as thick around a your wrist. Hopefully that correlated to their cock size.

You find out soon, thrown onto your hands and knees, thankful for the small grace of the towel laid down below you. Water laps at your heels as Starboard slips his lower half into the water, letting his tail tread water to prop him upright. Port adjusts himself before grabbing the back of your head, yanking your upper body down so your lips press right against his cockhead. He’s still got that crazy look in his eyes.

A tapered tip pressed against your pussy lips. You close your eyes shut, wishing they’d just get it over with already.

You soon regret those thoughts, Starboard plunging deep in you with one thrust. A scream crawls out of your hoarse throat, just in time for Port to slot his cock into your mouth. Gurgling around their cocks, both mermen groan.

“S-shit.” Water sloshes on the rocks as Starboard begins humping up, smooth muscle hitting your backside. “This might be your best idea yet, Port. Kidnapping a human.”

Port’s only respond is a shaky moan, slowly pulling his cock out to the tip before thrusting back in. “Your mouth is incredible.” You get an affectionate caress to your cheek, bulging out as Port begins to fuck your mouth, perfectly in synch with Starboard behind you.

The pinpricks of claws in the fat of your hips are the least of your worried, but the sensation still jumps into the front of your mind anyway. You whine around Port;s cock. Tongue lolled out like a dog, he pants as he defiles your throat. He wraps a large hand around the base of your skull, yanking you towards him.

“Careful, f-fucking idiot.” Starboard stutters out, still muttering curses as he stirs up your guts. “ You might tear her throat.”

“It’s so tight.” Port marvels, caressing the sizable bulge he makes in your neck.

“You should feel her cunt.” Starboard brags, despite the breathlessness in his voice. “She’s milking me dry.”

You don’t know how long they defile you for, mind devoid of any higher thought. All you know is the feeling of being stretched open, far more than you ever have before.

“I’m getting close.” With panting breaths, Port digs his fingers into your scalp and yanks you even harder. More tears run down your face. “Oh my gods, I’m getting close.”

“Already?” The snark in Starboard voice is alk bravado, his cock twitching inside and hips trembling. “Shit.”

“I’m gonna stuff her full.” Port stutters out. “I’m gonna fill her stomach, then her pussy.”

“Good luck, because she’s gonna be leaking with me first.” Starboard yanks your hips back. “F-fuck.”

“Then I’ll fuck her ass next, stretch her open and plug her up.”

Port chuckles, patting your face.

“Doesn’t that sound nice, pretty girl? Oh, gods!”

Port, barely able to finish his thought, fulfills his promise and shoots a hot load down your throat. Far more than a human man, you can’t even swallow it all before it dribbles out of your lips.

“Holy shit!” Starboard is soon to follow, your pussy feeling hot and full as he plunges deep inside you, keeping his cum from dripping out.

They collapse like that, your nearly broken body underneath as they rest and catch their breath. The cool rock feels nice against your skin, a small reprieve.

“...If you want her ass, you’ll need to stretch her plenty. We can’t break her, we just got her.”

“Yeah, I know.”

[ihearthes]

Winner

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 2627

“Okay, so Mum will be the guard, right?” Gemma nudges you, nodding towards Anne. “You and I will go after the boys’ flag.” 

“Why do I have to be the guard?” Anne pouts. 

“Duh,” Gemma laughs, “Harry and Michal wouldn’t dare hurt you, and Darren can be bribed.” 

“True,” you concur, ready to get on with the game. “I vote we hide our flag in the painted mailbox.” 

“Oh, good plan!” Anne claps her hands excitedly. While the boys wait inside with Gemma as a watchperson, you and Anne place the green flag in one of Anne’s art creations – an old mailbox she’s painted in multiple bright colours and set out for the birds to build nests in spring. 

As the boys, their flag already hidden, swoop from the house, Harry grabs you around the waist, pressing a light-hearted kiss to your nose. “You’re going down, darling!” 

“Not a chance!” You laugh, pushing him away. Moving to neutral ground, the teams square up. Anne, considered the most fair, blows a whistle to start the game, and everyone moves in seemingly random directions. Catching a glimpse of the purple flag under one of Anne’s sculptures, you race towards that side of the garden, but in a zigzag pattern so Michal and Darren might not know where you’re going. Harry is clearly hanging back as the guard. Behind you, you can hear Anne and Gemma trying to keep their respective boyfriends from the flag, using whatever means necessary. 

You know that’s the case for you too. Winning this competition is everything, so as you approach and get close to the flag, you get blocked by Harry who moves side to side, waving you away from the hiding place. 

“Love! It’s not this way. It’s over there,” Harry calls to you while pointing in a different section of the garden. “Look near the gnome.”

But you are well aware of his falsehood, knowing exactly where the flag is, but he continues to block you. 

“Come on, H. I’m just trying to take a little stroll over by Dotty.” You point to the cat lounging nearby. “She looks thirsty, and I want to make sure she knows where her water dish is.” 

Meanwhile, the yelling behind you continues. 

“They’re getting closer!” Gemma yells at you. “Do something!” 

Oh well. Nothing to lose but the game, right? It’s all about winning. Without warning, you grab the hem of your shirt and flash your covered tits at Harry. He freezes, mouth dropping open, which gives you just enough time to dart past him and grab the flag, holding it over your head. 

“WINNER!” You scream. Anne and Gemma squeal, and you meet them in the neutral ground as the three of you celebrate your victory with an enthusiastic hug. 

==========

Tesco. Your least favourite chore, especially on an evening when you simply want to cuddle up with your guy after a long day at work. In the car, your pout is apparent as you sit in the passenger seat with your arms crossed. 

“Don’t wanna shop,” you scowl. “Just wanna watch the ‘Succession’ finale with you.” 

“We don’t have any food,” Harry points out logically, making you want to punch him. So you do. “Ouch!” Pulling into the parking lot, Harry playfully pokes you. “How about a little competition?” 

Intrigued but not willing to give in just yet, you twist to him. He holds up the shopping list from the magnetic refrigerator pad, ripping it in half before handing one side to you. 

“First person back to the car with all of the items on the list wins.” 

Narrowing your eyes, you examine your list. “What if something is out of stock?” 

“You must replace it with a suitable substitute.” 

Mulling over the idea, you reach for the door handle. “Competition starts when we open the car doors or when we get to the store door?”

“Store,” he grins, and you both exit the car. 

Warily, you keep an eye on him to ensure he doesn’t run to the door to get there before you. Instead, he maintains that silly grin that doesn’t show his teeth, but keeps his dimple on display. At your feet jointly cross the threshold, you grab a basket and race to the dairy, picking up milk and butter at the top of your list. Recognizing that you’ve got to cross to the other side of the store for fish while most of Harry’s items are in the produce area, you smile at a teen girl with her friend as they look over the magazines. Passing them quickly, you mutter loudly enough for them to hear, “I cannot believe Harry Styles is in the produce section at my Tesco.” 

Giggling, you hear the girls gasp before their footsteps rapidly move in Harry’s direction. It’s not long before you’ve grabbed the last items on your list and raced to check out. A few minutes later when your dishevelled boyfriend approaches, he finds you leaning on the bumper. 

“WINNER!” You laugh, twirling in your victory, and he swats you on the arse as you get into the car. 

==========

“Come on, H,” Brad encourages, watching his client carefully, “one more wind sprint.” 

“Lighten up, mate,” Harry complains, having surpassed his usual workout time, his chest heaving with exertion. 

“Hmmm…” you pop your hip and put your finger on your chin, “I bet I can beat you this time around.” 

“Baby…” Harry starts, “No offence, but there’s no way you could keep up with me.” 

“Really? Put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy.” You glance at the trainer. “Will you start us?” 

“Absolutely,” Brad grins, and you’re confident he thinks you have zero chance. “Ready…”

You line up next to Harry, toes on the same line. 

“Steady…” Brad’s voice floats across to you.

“Did I tell you I bought new lingerie?” You whisper just as Brad shouts the final word, and you take off in a sprint, knowing Harry hasn’t even left the starting spot as his mind churns with thoughts of you in whatever you might have bought. 

At the finish line, you turn around just in time to spy him crossing the line behind you. 

“WINNER!” You jump up and down. “I beat you again, H! Sorry. Didn’t know I was dating such a loser.” 

Hands on his knees, Harry flashes his toothiest smile. “You sure you want to go there, love?”

In reply, you smile and walk away, shaking your hips more than usual. 

==========

Turning off the telly, Harry twists to face you in bed. “Up for a friendly battle?” He asks, and you don’t even hesitate. 

“Yes!” Bouncing to a seated position, you excitedly settle your legs underneath you. “What will it be? Chess? Scrabble? Cribbage?” 

“Oh, I was thinking of something a little more…interesting.” His eyebrow quirks as his dimple appears alongside his smirk. 

It never occurs to you that you’ll lose. After all, you’ve always found a way to beat him whatever the game. This will be no different. “Bring it!” You grin. 

“Okay. The rules are simple. We create challenges for each other. But they can only be challenges that can be done here in bed with what’s available within arms’ reach. First person who can’t complete the challenge loses.” 

Shit. You glance around the room where you had done a pretty damn good job of cleaning up earlier in the day. Nothing to be found. The nightstands include a glass of ice left over, some toys, lubricant, and little else. 

“Deal,” you declare. 

“Cool. I’ll give the first challenge. Ready?” 

Your body is already tingling in anticipation. What will he choose? There’s no doubt in your brain that it will be sexy as hell. Whatever it is. 

“Whistle with your fingers.” 

Hmmm…not at all sexy, but whatever. You can do that easily, and you prove it, sticking two fingers in your mouth and releasing a shrill whistle just like your father had taught you to do at footie games. 

Covering his ears, Harry nods. “Your turn.” 

“Fart with your armpit,” you challenge.

“Easy peasy,” he laughs, sliding his hand under his shirt and producing a pathetic slapping sound. 

“Lame!” you call. 

“Close enough.” 

Deciding to let it slide, you await his next challenge. 

“Take off your bra without taking off your shirt.” 

You scoff. “Really? That’s no challenge. I do that all the time.” Reaching behind your back, you release the bra hooks before reaching in each armhole and pulling out a strap. Within seconds, you feel your nipples brushing on the material of your shirt. Oh. Why does that feel so sexy suddenly when you’ve done it hundreds of times before, always feeling perfunctory? But you know it’s because Harry has watched the manoeuvre. 

Fuck. Be careful, you remind yourself. 

He tilts his head, indicating that it’s your turn to propose a challenge, and you try to think of something that will be deceptively sexy and still challenging. Your eyes roam the space, finally landing on the glass of ice. 

“Put a piece of ice into my mouth without touching the ice with your hands.” 

That damn eyebrow raises again, and he reaches for the glass. “My hands can touch the glass, right?” 

“Yes,” you agree, “Just not the ice itself.” 

“Easy,” he mocks, tipping a single piece of ice into his mouth. Leaning towards you, he kisses you, and you maintain a tight seal on your lips to prevent him from sliding the frozen water onto your tongue. This is where he’s going to lose, and then you’ll have your wicked way with him right here in the same bed where he’s lost the game. 

The sneak slides his hand under the hem of your shirt, wrapping his chilled hand around your breast which naturally causes you to gasp. Taking advantage, he slides his tongue inside and passes off the ice. 

Shit. He’s playing dirty. Bamboozling is your tactic! How dare he? 

But now the wheels are turning in your head. The cold from the ice juxtaposed with the heat of your mouth had created a zing in other parts of your body. How might that feel elsewhere? You keep the ice in your mouth, swirling it around. 

At your prompting, Harry scans you. “Strip without changing positions.” 

“How am I supposed to do that?” But as you ask the question aloud, you picture the best way in your mind. Removing your shirt is the easy part so you do that first, leaving your breasts unfettered. Still kneeling, you unbutton your shorts. Bouncing on the bed, you finagle the material, including your knickers, down your thighs and over your knees where it takes a few more bounces to get completely naked. Your inner workings are as wet as your knees are sore, and you’re slightly out of breath, but you’ve done it. You smile at him proudly, continuing to shift the ice around on your tongue, knowing that he’s just watched your breasts bounce as you performed the tricky act of undressing.

“Lie down and close your eyes.” 

Your challenge is simple, and he complies without question. Making short work of his zipper, you withdraw his cock from its hiding place, stroking it a few times before bending over him and applying your icy cold mouth to his most prized body part. 

“HOLY FUCK!” Harry cries. “FOUL! FOUL!” 

As your mouth slides on him, you notice that he’s enjoying the treatment despite his words of protest. Popping off him, you smile at where he’s looking at you. 

“Foul? Okay, I’ll stop. But when did you open your eyes?” 

“No fair! You didn’t say to keep them closed.” He looks decidedly unhappy, and you wonder if it’s because he thinks he lost or because your mouth is no longer enticing him.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Sorry I wasn’t specific. Won’t happen again.” 

Lying on his back still, Harry lifts his shirt. “Mhm. I think I’ve got the winning challenge. Nose on the butterfly and tongue on my belly button.” 

“Are you sure you want my tongue there? It’s still cold.” 

Harry slings his arm over his face. “Oh my god! You’re going to kill me!” 

“Probably one day,” you giggle. 

“Fine,” he acquiesces, “How about you ride me without lube?” 

“That’s your challenge?” Does he have any idea how wet you are? If you used lube now, you’d ricochet right off him and hurt your head in the process. 

As you prepare to straddle him by yanking his bottoms over his feet, he groans. 

“Who started this game?” He grumbles.

“I believe that was you.” 

“Stupid me. Okay. Here’s my final challenge. Ride me for five minutes and don’t come.” 

Tilting your head, you gaze at him from your perch astride his thighs. “I see,” you murmur. “So if I come first, you win.” 

“Exactly.” His eyes twinkle, and you process the challenge. 

You can do this. You’ll have to stop on occasion to control the build-up, but it’s possible. Biting your lip, you nod. 

“Deal. Siri, set a timer for 5 minutes.” 

The voice on your phone responds, “Five minutes. Counting down.” 

With that, you slide onto Harry, placing your hands on his ferns to get traction. Slowly, you raise yourself off his cock before taking your time inching back down, spreading your legs as wide as you can manage. 

Harry sucks in air through his teeth, which sets you wondering if he’ll come first. Will that make you the winner? Pleased at the thought that you could win that way, you renew your efforts, gliding up and down like you’re riding a – well, a Harry. Watching his face, you spy the lip bite that reveals he’s affected by the movement. Shifting your pace to be a little faster, you watch his hands clutch the duvet on either side of him. Hmmm… could you make him come first? 

It’s an academic question, and you tackle it like a scientist. If you adjust your pace, moving quickly and then slower, what effect does that have? Oh! Nice! If you rise to the tip of his cock and then slam back down onto him, does his jaw twitch? 

“Siri, how much time is left on the timer?” Harry inquires, clearly fighting his impending orgasm. 

“There is one minute and 42 seconds left on your five minute timer.” 

Whew. You’ve almost made – What? Wait. No!

Harry has grasped your hips, holding you still while he drives into you from below. It suddenly occurs to you that he’s been playing the game well all along. When his thumb shifts to your clit, you grit your teeth, determined to make it through the final minute. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant. 

“Exactly,” Harry replies just before he stops completely. 

Your insides are dripping and quivering, and you’re grateful that he’s stopped before the timer has gone off, but then he withdraws almost completely before slamming upwards into you. 

That’s your move! What the fuck?

He repeats the gesture, moving slowly and deliberately each time while his thumb continues to wreak havoc on your clit. Holy – 

Every muscle in your body clenches, starting from your vagina and moving outwards as your orgasm overtakes you. Your eyes roll back into your head, and as you tilt your chin to the heavens, you faintly hear the sound of Siri’s alarm ringing again and again. 

Just when the convulsions within you are starting to ease, Harry resumes his motions, and you’re back on a high within seconds, screaming his name just before you feel him shooting inside you, coating your walls. 

Collapsing on him, your sweaty chest pressed to his, you struggle to catch your breath just as Harry whispers, “Winner,” and you can hear his smile in the single word. 

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are love. 

[i2valeri]

　﹒　　　　 ˟　　　　 ◌　　　　 ﹒

I would go to war for sakai val.

< sakai 3 for todays drama enhypen surprises val and shows their love for her, but val can’t process that, because to her, who loves little old me? warning i laughed a lot because it was very chaotic (non proofread

valerie was anticipating that the seven boys would just barge into the dorms, so to her logical thinking, she somehow ended up in front of their dorm door. staring at the white empty wall.

and the perfect timing, hani proceeded to go to the convenience store leaving valerie all by herself. valerie curled up into a ball while staring at the door of the shared dorm, looking away for a tad bit until she would glance back sharply if she heard the slightest footstep.

valerie would wonder to herself, “what would hani do?” this was val’s mindset, she looked up to the older girl so whenever she didn’t know what to do, she would think what her practical sister would do.

valerie looked at the door once again, feeling disappointed, she stood up from the cold hard floor and gave up. “I guess they won’t be coming back any soon.” val landed on her feet and gained her balance again, she shook off the dust from her oversized hoodie and walked back to her room.

until… she had heard keys rattling and the door suddenly opening.

she gasped in a mix of excitement and uneasiness, running to the door and opening it. she stuck her head out of the door and saw not a single soul, was she that desperate to see another person she started hearing things?

valerie thought to herself, this time, she was greeted with disappointment actually. “you blew it val… they aren’t coming back right now…” she said to herself, until she heard footsteps behind her back.

she swiftly turned around…

and her eyes met with seven boys who had a cake, being held by heeseung reading out “we are glad your our member, val.”

“valerie!” heeseung smiled, showing her the cake. “thank you for being a good member to us for the past.. what… one week? I know things have been a little fast and we couldn’t get the opportunity to know each other more… but you’re someone who we know we can trust immediately ! thank you; thank you for keeping up with our idiotic and chaotic mess(es).” heeseung grinned like a little child, proud of what he said.

“valerieeeee !! we really think your the coolest member and we feel bad we couldn’t really talk to you and get to know you more despite the fact we were close with hani during I-land… your a great person and we hope you don’t really hate us because of how nonchalant you are sometimes.” jake beamed, but jungwon had elbowed him for the last sentence.

“thank you for being apart of our team, valerie.” jungwon gently handed the cake to the stunned girl that was cheesing so hard at the fact she realized how much they cared. “thank you guys. I didn’t realize you guys cared that much to get me a cake just because you noticed I was anti-social.”

“of course val, you're special to us— jay why the actual fuck are you crying?” sunghoon grinned ear to ear until his eyes landed on the sentimental jay who felt emotional after he heard everything heeseung and jake said.

“come on bro! men have emotions too…” jay wiped the tears flowing down his cheeks while everyone started laughing at his jokes, “yah! look at val noona! she’s gonna start crying! their faces are identical right now!” ni-ki pointed out. “riki! I’m gonna kill your japanese ass!” valerie chuckled.

heeseung was laughing a bit too much and next thing you know, he almost dropped the cake.

“HEESEUNG HYUNG! COME ON YOU SCARED THE HELL OUT OF US!”

“shut up! you try laughing while holding a cake..” heeseung pouted, defending himself. “hyung, by the sound your laughing, it doesn’t even sound like laughing anymore, your cackling.” ni-ki said, everyone realizing how heeseungs laugh sounded like a high pitched horse.

“YAH! RIKI-YAH!”

“jungwon’s been awfully quiet.” sunoo noticed while everyone turned to the leader, jungwon was zoning out until he realized all eyes were on him. “oh? what?” jungwon’s hand landed on his nape, confused on what was going on. “the guys on a different planet.” jake pointed at his boba eyes that looked like it had not a single thought behind those eyes.

“It’s kinda cute!” valerie pouted, showing them how cute his big eyes were and how they sparkled. “oh look at me val! I have them too!” jake widened his eyes and blinked x1000 times. “there’s a difference jake.”

“oh well thanks.”

“wait wheres hani?” jay asked in confusion, looking around the spacious room for the co-member. “she’s at the convenience store, she left awhile earlier.” valerie informed jay, and the guy made a “o” shaped mouth in realization. “definitely not. she’s dating someone.” sunoo said, gossiping.

“WHAT?”

the seven of them said in unison, obviously not informed. “isn’t it obvious?”

“she’s dating that anton guy from riize,” (let’s pretend riize was a group in 2020. 🫶) “wait… you guys didn’t notice? didn’t you see her always hang out in sm entertainment?” sunoo put a hand on his mouth, shocked that no one noticed.

“okay, this calls for gossip and movie time!” val announced and everyone agreed.

by the time hani arrived, the seven of them confronted hani while sunoo watched from afar. alas, gaining a scolding from his noona since he had snitched to everyone in the group.

after the mayhem and mess that happened a few minutes ago, everyone in the group decided to sleep at val’s and hani’s room because it was the most spacious and biggest out of all 9 of them.

all of them were snuggled together in a shared couch, somehow, they agreed to watch a horror movie. after valerie prepped the popcorn, she was originally seated beside jake. but there was a vacant spot near sunoo so sunoo signaled her to go next to him.

val made her way to sunoo until she felt a gentle hand softly hold her hand, it was jake. “don’t try to go and leave me, val. you sat beside me first.” jake looked at her with pleading eyes that sparkled brightly. “please, you were mine first.”

valerie knew he meant that she was his first to sit beside next to, but the way he had worded it made valerie get a soft tingly feeling in her stomach.

“oh.. uhm okay.” valerie was skeptical, but jake had that golden retriever smile that made her feel at ease.

as soon as she sat down, jake laid his head on her shoulder. getting comfortable, trying to focus on the horror movie and not on valerie.

every time a scary part came on the scream, or when it wasn’t even scary, jake used it as an excuse to hold valeries hand. “your hands are soft.” jake whispered in her ear. “jake focus on the movie.” she sighed, getting irritated but nervous.

“how can i focus when there is something more important in front of me? god. your too pretty not to be focused on.” jake pouted, but val was surprised. “might as well go to sunoo.” she actually tried standing up, until jake hugged her in the back.

“sit back down. I’ll watch the movie calm down, just be beside me, poe.” jake said in english, his australian raspy accent tickled valerie’s brain, leading her to sit in defeat.

jake. you will be the death of song valerie.

thinking of @ valerieace . . ?!

I got a tad bit lazy at the end but I swear next chapter will literally just revolve around jake !!!! swear guys 😅😅😅😅 thank u for reading mwah mwah 😍

[soft-persephone]

A Fresh Start 5

T // WC: 4.5k // things get a little warmer and we meet Barry for the first time. Imagine him as Lance Gross // masterlist //

Summer was almost over.

There was one good month left before the hard part starts. You were stressing over carpool drop off and pick up, what time you’d be getting to work, and so so much more.

Today was open house and Mo wasn’t having it.

You were beyond lucky to have your coworker and best friend Barry to help you with it, despite how little help he may actually provide.

It was nice he was here.

He was her honorary uncle.

“Come on Momo. You’ll be able to meet all your new classmates today!” He tried to hype her up.

“I don’t need to meet the rest of them.” She pouted. “I have Janine.” In a show of how absolutely done she was, Momo ran off just to do that, on her way to find her best and only needed friend.

Barry looked at you and you rolled your eyes. You were not opening this can of worms today.

You were already nervous, upset, and all of the above because you needed to discuss what had happened to your brother, your family, her suspension from her previous school and pray her teacher this year would be understanding.

Hopefully she would hear you out when you explain if Monice acts out, it’s because she’s going through a lot and not because she’s a bad kid. If it looked like you were struggling, it’s because you’ve been a parent before, and you’re doing this all by yourself.

“Look at us,” Barry grabbed your arm and wrapped it in his, holding your hand in the process, “being responsible caregivers.”

“I thought we’d have more time before we ended up at our first open house.” You sighed as you made it to the right hallway the teacher was supposed to be on. At least you hoped it was the right one.

“But it’s kind of fun to stunt on all these boring ass dads and you are the baddest mom in here.”

“But what if I—“

He smacked his teeth.

“Don’t nobody wanna hear all that. Momo’s face is shiny as hell, no ash in sight.”

“But she won’t wear her regular clothes!”

You looked at Momo as she excitedly chatted with Janine. Her pink tutu she decided to distress laid oover some jeans, and she decorated her sleeveless jean jacket she recently ripped up as well with every iron on patch she could find and bedazzled fingerless gloves.

“She’s 8!”

“My Momma would kill me if she saw Momo dressed like this!”

“And your Momma ain’t here, so there’s nothin to trip over.”

He was right, but you were not going to tell him that. Lord knows his head was big enough on its own without you inflating it.

“Go flirt with a single kindergartener’s mother!”

“You know who I came here to see.” He teased as Monique came up, waggling his eyebrows.

You pinched his arm as hard as you could and he put an arm around your shoulders and pinched you back just as hard if not harder. Both of you smiled through the pain.

“You are not ruining my relationship with Monique! She’s Momo’s best friend’s, Mother!” You hissed through your smile.

“A milf is a milf.” He said through clenched teeth forced into a smile.

You stomped his foot right when Monique came up.

“Heyyy.” She smiled at you both.

You cheerily greeted her back.

“Hey.” Barry squeaked.

“Well don’t you two look all chummy.”

“Her.” Barry scoffed. Starting a dramatic and somewhat disrespectful laugh.

You glared at him as he did.

Catching your eye, he stopped with a cough, muttering, “I think I had.. something in my throat.”

You rolled your eyes before replying. “Never in a million years.”

“Bear-Bear!”

“Hey Janine!” He crouched down. “Gimmie five!”

“Bear-Bear?” Monique giggled.

She was fucking giggling.

You froze, fighting the instinct to put a hand on your chest.

This could not be happening

“That’s what Momo calls him.” Janine shrugged. The simple joys of calling someone a bear thwarted any other logic and emotion.

As if summoned, Momo was springing towards him, jumping in his arms.

“You having fun?” He smiled down at her, his joy contagious, spreading among the girls.

Momo grinned, out of breath. She then stuck her tongue out at Janine on the ground who’ only made a silly face back at her from below.

“Bear who?” A low strong voice disapprovingly called out from behind.

You crane your neck behind you to see Marvin with his arms crossed.

“This is Barry. We work together.”

“We’re literally best friends.” Barry put Momo down. His face twisting into a familiar grin only you knew meant nothing but trouble.

“Who is this?” He stuck out a thumb at Marvin, the frown on his face stoney and unwavering.

Ignoring the question, he made his way towards Monique.

“He’s Janine’s dad.” You said, not thinking much of it.

Marvin meanmugged you for telling him.

“Don’t pay him no mind.” Monique smacked him in the chest.

“Married?” Barry smiled, butting his lip a little before looking between the two of them.

“Divorced actually.”

Marvin gave you a look and you pretended to not know what was going on, looking as dubious as you could manage.

“Hey look,” you interrupted, “I think that’s the teacher of our children.”

Monique and Barry were completely enraptured in one another. Neither replying as they walked side by side into the classroom. He was leaning into her, murmuring in her ear and she was flashing a hint of a smile you were used to seeing Barry pull out of women.

“What the actual fuck?” Marvin huffed at you.

“I don’t want this to happen either!” You whisper shouted up at him.

You averted your gaze. Your eyelashes flutter as you did. Marvin could be. . . intense.

When he was upset, he was even more intimidating. His size amplified it even more.

He wasn’t completely towering over you, but he had a way of making himself look larger.

But it’s just as possible, it was all in your head.

Your mind sometimes casts an adrenaline induced illusion that he was six feet.

A Scary but erratic fascination.

Not because men six feet and over are more appealing to you, it was . . . you aren’t sure.

Maybe it’s an inside joke you were running with yourself. He wore 5’11 like he was taller. He stood high. He never cowered. Never making one joke at his own expense about it. Self deprecation was not in his vocabulary. But it is worth noting, he is not little by any means. What he lacked in height, he made up for everywhere else. To knock him for that would be an insult.

Man’s was huge.

Did you have evidence to back all of this up? No.

But you had good old fashioned intuition, and she was never wrong. . . Mostly. There was that one time, but it was not your fault and it didn’t really count.

“Why did you bring him here?”

“He wanted to pick up single mom’s.” You were not making good excuses. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“So you introduced him to my ex wife?”

“No!” You whispered a little too loudly and everyone looked over to you.

“Sorry,” You waved. Everyone went back into their only little bubbles.

Marvin wasn’t fazed and continued to stare you down.

“He told me he was looking for young mom’s who just had kids. Sending them to pre-k or kindergarten or something” you pleaded, hoping he even partially believed you, “I promise you this Monique thing happened out of nowhere, and out of my control.” He seemed to soften up a bit after you said that.

You let out a breath of relief.

“Don’t sweat it.” He put a hand on your shoulder. You leaned into him on instinct. “It’s not your fault your friends with a dick.”

You chuckled as you walked towards the teacher, he followed, matching your footsteps. “He’s not a dick.”

“Look he’s your friend, you love him. I understand why you can’t admit it to me, but I know you know, so we can drop it.”

“Hi, I’m Miss Grace.” She held out a hand and You shook it, then Marvin.

“Which kid belongs to you two?”

You let out a polite laugh to hide just how riled up her statement made you. You put a hand over his that was on your shoulder to push it off, but he only held onto you tighter before pulling you a tad closer. Your cheek brushed up against his chest. The action almost made you fall. You elbowed him once you got your balance. He only chuckled.

“I’m Janine’s Dad.”

“I'm Monice's aunt.” Was the only explanation you both gave.

“Oh,” Ms Grace quickly turned before grabbing. A basket for you “me and some of the teachers put this together. We know of your situation and what happened to her parents, and the last thing we wanted you to worry over was school supplies.”

It had everything. Backpack, lunchbox, pens, pencils, paper, the whole nine yards.

Tears welled in your eyes.

“I.. you didn’t have to..”

“We did.” She momentarily placed a hand on yours.

“Your Brother had such an impact on us and the district. He’s done so much volunteering and organizing on our behalf. The least we can do is give Monice a few pencils and paper.”

“Thank you.” She handed you a tissue. You really hated that you were crying.

“And we do not expect you to do as much as he did. You have enough on your plate as is.” She made eye contact with you. “Let us take care of you as your brother has taken care of us.”

Marvin rubbed circles along your back. He breathed in and out loudly to give you something to focus on, helping you calm down faster, so Momo wouldn’t see you cry.

“I’m okay.” You gently grabbed his arm.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

Instead of walking away like you anticipated. He wrapped his arms around you. You blinked. The moment didn’t feel real, but as his large frame melded with yours, sliding your arms up his back felt like second nature. Your face rested perfectly in the space between his chest. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting his heartbeat wash over your senses. He smelled clean. It was distinct but soft, not too strong, blending well with the natural musk of his skin. When he let you go, it felt much too short of a hug.

“Did you wanna take the girls out to eat?” Monique appeared out of nowhere. Grabbing your hand and dragging you away.

“Oh,” you blinked with a smile at the sudden turn of events, Sure! Momo would love that.” You don’t notice the frown Monique was giving Marvin over your shoulder, or the way he dejectedly followed after you both.

Lunch was something. It was kinda nice to be with a large group outing. It has been a while for you.

There were no drinks or loud music or anything too crazy, but it was still nice. It was still fun. You can’t remember the last time you had been around so many people at one time in a restaurant that wasn’t for a birthday dinner or work thing.

“That really happened?” Marvin was dying laughing and you took a sip of your soda with a frown to keep from saying a bad word, in front of the kids.

“Yes, my friendship of who knows how many years almost ended because I didn’t want to split the bill with everyone and only pay for my meal.”

“I didn’t think that was a real thing.”

“Yes! And it’s rude!” Barry interrupted. “We all came out for a good time and we are all spending money. We’re splitting it!” He reached over to grab another slice of pizza.

Momo and Janine happily ignored them as they chatted with one another.

“And that’s exactly why I don’t go out with you all’ I’m not paying for your five drinks, four appetizers, and an entire entre’ you wouldn’t even eat, all because you wanna impress some girl!” You pulled at Barry’s ear and he slapped you on the thigh.

“Yeah us married folk don’t go through stuff like that.”

“I think there's those things called children,” Barry started with a laugh. “I heard they were pretty expensive.”

Monique laughed pretty hard at that, and you had to fight to not roll your eyes.

Barry was many things, but he was not funny. Does he have some ability to make people laugh from time to time? Sure, but that was a basic ability everyone had just for being born. Everyone was capable of it from time to time, but to ordain him with the belief that he was funny?

Scary business.

“Can I spend the night with Janine?” Momo wrapped her arms around you as you all made your way out.

“Please?” Janine followed suit, asking a bit more politely, her big brown eyes pleading with you.

“Only if Ms. Monique says it’s okay.”

“Don’t call me Ms.” Monique said pointedly at you before turning her direction to the kids hanging off your legs, “get in the car.”

They squealed in union. Clinging onto one another as they clamored to the car, skipping and jumping, and almost falling over one another as they did because they refused to let one another go.

“I’m so jealous of what they have.” You sighed contemplatively, “my best friend does not love me as much as they love each other.”

“I’m literally right here.” Barry smacked his teeth, his face falling and his eyebrows drawing together.

“We are coworkers who happen to have become friends.” You groaned, “I have a real best friend that I actually grew up with.”

“And where is she now, huh!” He raised his voice.

Oh he was really mad about this.

You held back any sign of frustration.

“I’m sorry I upset you Barry,” you dropped your shoulders in defeat of his petulant attitude, “you're my second best friend.”

“I’ll take it.” He wrapped his arms around you in a hug, but you refused to hug him back.

“Get. Off. Me.”

“I love you too.”

Barry Let you go with a huff.

“Need me to take you home?”

“I’ll walk.” you patted him on the shoulder, wishing him goodnight.

You watched and waited for him to leave, lingering as Momo hopped off in the backseat of Monique's car and until it was out of view.

You pulled your airpods out of your purse, preparing for a walk.

“Where you going?”

You turned.

Marvin was narrowing his eyes at you. The half slit of his eyes that were still visible reflected the nearest street light.

When God made Marvin, he gifted him the deepest pools of brown eyes you’d ever seen. No matter how dark it was or how little light may be around, the deep silky hughes of brown never failed to reflect it.

“Home?” you started slowly. “To my apartment.”

“Let me take you home” He took a step toward you, his shoulder’s dropping just a tad. His eyes that you loved so much pulled at something within you.

You stayed quiet, not really sure on what to say.

“Please,” He paused, holding his hands out before clasping them together, showing some form of realization, “I know you can take care of yourself and that you will be okay, but I won’t be,” he pointed towards himself, “until I see you walk through the door for the night myself.”

“Okay.” you relented, trying and failing to hold back a smile.

He walks past you, leading the way.

“This is your car?” you gently brushed a finger along the door, beaming at him from the passenger’s side. “My uncle used to have a car just like it.”

“Oh, yeah.” He smiled at you, tilting his head a little as you both climbed into the car.

It was some type of Impala. Late 60’s early 70’s. You didn’t know as much as your dad or uncle, but you knew a little bit. You explained to Marvin just as much.

“Yeah, instead of this daker green it was all black. He even got the interior redone. You rubbed the roof with the back of your hand. “It was like a suede or something,” you lightly touched several knobs and buttons, “and it had red accents on the floor, maybe the sides, “you smiled at the thought. “Or maybe it was gold. It's so hard to remember because we weren’t really allowed in his car, and on the rare items we were in his car he barely wanted us to breathe too hard in it.”

You glanced over to see him looking at you. He was leaning on the arms rest, slumped low in his seat as he looked up at you. His eyes languidly followed every microexpression of your face, the way you were touching random things in the car as you told your little story, each and every tiny thing he could, soaking up every bit of you he could.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–”

“Nooo, no, please,” he said with a smile, his demeanor confused you, “go on. You don’t talk about yourself that much. Don’t stop by any means.”

You blinked, stunned.

“It’s nice.” He explained.

“I didn’t think you’d care to hear,” He straightened in his seat at that, sitting up tall, “or,” you started to explain before he could speak, “I hadn’t thought anything of it.” you shrug in an effort to show it wasn’t a big deal.

“What makes you think I don’t want to get to know you?” His smile wavered, but fell back into place. It felt like there was more to it. What exactly? You weren’t quite sure.

“You never asked!”

“Fair,” he nodded, relenting, “I never explicitly asked, but I didn’t know how to approach it with everything you have going on.” He defended himself, “I didn’t want to be another. . . inconvenience.” Is the word he settled on, not looking quite happy with it.

You’ve always felt like you’ve said enough, teetering the edge of politeness, but apparently, you needed to do more..

“You don’t talk that much about yourself either, Marvin.” You accuse him back.

“You wanna get to know me?”

Being in the car with him was starting to feel like a trap.

You were suddenly aware of the minimal space between you. The minimal space a car provided in general.

“I-I. . .” Your voice sounded winded and your eyes wouldn’t stop blinking too much. You were more than aware of how they fluttered around, trying to find something to land on that wasn’t him.

He started the car, graceful enough to not look as smug as you know he felt at causing you to end up in such an erratic state, more flustered than you’ve ever felt before.

You’ve never felt so off guard.

“Yes,” you eventually responded, your voice too breathy, your eyes still fluttering.

You’re entire body was a raw husk of a mask, hiding what? You were unsure, but you did want to hide. To cave into yourself and not be seen or perhaps disappear. . . Longing for some supernatural force to devour you from the ground beneath you.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

“Marvin I do want to get to know you,” you licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, “but you have a way of hiding in plain sight, and people don’t like talking about you behind your back.”

“Good or bad.” You quickly addd to prevent a follow up question.

“I didn’t realize I was such a closed book.”

“Marvin, yes you do,” the light accusatory tone you held surprised you as much as it did him. You were returning to something that felt more like you. You were starting to feel real and grounded again, “and it’s fine. Just. . . I don’t feel entitled to know everything about you. . . You’ll open up when you’re ready. You’re a grown man.”

“Noted.” He laughed at that, and you only smiled. “But just so we’re clear, you’re saying it’s my fault?” He momentarily looked at you, quickly catching how serious you were.

“I’m not blaming you for anything. . . You paused, searching for the right tone of voice or the right words but they didn’t come as quickly as you liked.

“You’re. . . Janine’s dad. And-and we live in this bubble of respectful parents who cross paths because their kids are friends, right?” You clasp your fingers together to help your explanation, “and I’m just Momo’s aunt, and they go to the same school, and my life isn’t what it used to be. I knew for a fact the change was coming and that things would be different, but I didnt’t know they’d be this different,” you licked your lips, searching for the point in your mind as you kept talking.

“And Momo is spending the last week of Summer with my parents, and it’s going to be my first week truly alone since everything’s happened, and I’m so scared Marvin. . . When it’s just me and Mo’ that’s one thing, but by myself, completely?” You huff through your nose, “I don’t know if I can handle being alone anymore.”

Fuck you lost the point.

Everything just spilled out of you. Each word, each new explanation felt like a grating of sandpaper across your mind, a spiritual self inflicted punishment for being too honest, for leaving too much spoken instead of letting them remain unsaid. The illusion you cast to represent yourself was losing its glimmer, falling down and revealing yourself bare before Marvin, leaving you to fight the sudden chill as you wait for his judgment, for him to reply.

“Alone?” He said in a somewhat scoff, more amused, than upset. His tone was gravely, low, and as soft as he could manage with his voice. He reached over to grab your hand as he drove. His hand dwarfed over yours as his thumb softly caressed at the back of your hand. Each swipe fills you with warmth

. His bare gaze on your soul didn’t feel quite so bad.

“So if I call you,” his voice washed over you, “you won’t answer?”

“Well, yes.” You said wearily, your voice slightly reverting. .

“Okay.”he nodded assuringly, “then if I call and you answer, That means I can invite you over for dinner on Monday? Cook you something real nice and as fancy as you like,” he continued lowly, his voice making your stomach to somersaults, “talk, get to know each other even more, and make plans to do it all over again.”

“Marvin’s I—“

“Would you like that?” He turned his body towards you, the car stopped at a light. “Or are you all alone?” He teased, worrying his lip with a snag of his teeth. Briefly flashing his teeth at you before his face fell into a heated gaze, intently studying you, making your face burn.

You purse your lips and nod, not trusting yourself to verbally answer.

He didn’t waver, keeping his eyes on you as he raised a brow.

“Yes, I- I’d like that.” You said softly, swallowing. Your mouth felt too wet and too dry at the same time. You licked your lips once more.

His eyes caught the movement flashing down before catching your gaze.

“Good,” he turned his attention back towards the road, “I look forward to it.”

He kept his hand over yours the entire ride home.

At some point your fingers start brushing the underside of his hand, ghosting along his palm as his thumb caresses the backside of yours.

“Let me walk you to your door.”

The words were a request, a question, but he said them more like an order, already dreading the engine and making his way to open your door.

The walk to your building felt slow, the elevator ride up even slower.

Youre steps were steady and sure, but everything else wasn’t. Marvin’s feet remained close to yours, never trailing too far behind or too far ahead of you.

You didn’t say a word, afraid you’d break or he’d disappear.

“Putting the key in the door you turned to wish him goodnight, but he was too close, causing you to bump into his chest with a low resounding thud that echoed in the hall.

He barely made noise, save for his hand that slammed onto the door to keep you from hitting your head on it as you tried to step back. You hand shot up for balance, resting on his chest.

“Sorry I—“

“— are you alright.” He was genuinely concerned. Worried about your wellbeing.

But that worry didn’t stop the parting of your lips after his words fanned across your face. How everything seemed to heat up within you, longing for more of the warmth radiating from his skin.

“I’m okay.” Your voice was slipping into a dangerous tone, your body moved faster than your brain. Layering your voice with a low sultry honeyed tone, begging for him to make a move without having to ask without throwing yourself at him and revealing how desperate you truly felt.

“That’s good,” his voice sounded lower, fuller as it flowed against your lashes. But he didn’t move his head an inch any lower. Just one decimeter of movement and your lips would align, but he wouldn’t take the bait, remaining still and standing tall over you. Close.

“Have a good night Marvin. Thank you for walking me to my door. . And for the talk.”

“Anytime,” he licked his lips just for a moment, torturing you, almost making you cave and to look, but you kept your gaze focused on him, letting it stay in your peripheral, “you have a good night too. I look forward to seeing you on Monday.”

You opened your mouth to respond but he was already taking a step back, leaving your personal space.

You closed your mouth, huffed through your nose as quietly as you could, disguising the rise and fall of your chest.

Fuck, when did you start holding your breath.

He was still looking and you were still waiting for him to leave.

A smirk slowly formed on his face as he remained, staring and standing still.

Oh fuck! You inwardly screamed at yourself.

He was waiting for you to walk through the door and lock it.

Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

Whatever silent battle you both had, you’d lost.

Accepting defeat, you nodded, giving him a polite smile and opening your door you walked in and closed it. After the soft snic of your lock, you heard his footsteps retreating.

Hopefully, you will win the war.

You smiled, leaning against the back of your door as you listened to him walk away. Letting the butterflies fill your senses, your head feeling light, you balled your fists to curb it some. Hating how when you decide to bask in the feeling for a second longer, your breath felt like it was slipping away, straining tight in your chest and falling from your lips in short painful bursts of bliss. Torture.

Fuck him, for real.

[atarathegreat]

Shota Aizawa- Drunken Jealousy

The atmosphere of the bar was exactly what Y/n needed to unwind from her stressful week of dealing with toddlers and hateful parents. Two days out of the workweek were hers to do what she wished, and she wished to get a drink.

Her boyfriend had taken her to a well known bar in the city, a place where neon lights ruled the nights. Aizawa never got tired of the way her eyes sparkled at the bright hues, sometimes driving her by just to see the store signs.

"Love, your martini!" Aizawa called across the bar to get her attention. Y/n had found herself in the midst of a group of girls, all of them taking photos and laughing like they were crows. It did the man's heart in, seeing her relaxed.

He chuckled, setting the beverage beside him as he waited and sipped on his soda. Aizawa had seen how stressed the parents could make Y/n, he'd watched his fair share of half sides arguments while she was texting parents and he felt that she deserved a night out. And she was having so much fun already with her new friends. Dancing and joking with them while they drank, dressed in their best outing clothes. Y/n had worn a skin tight crop top with jeans, she had secretly wanted Aizawa to keep her in the house so they could watch movies.

"I'm gonna go check on my boyfriend, I'll be right back!" She smiled at the girls as she walked away. They yelled and waved as she disappeared into the small crowd.

Y/n's smile faltered as she noticed the female bartender leaning over the counter toward Aizawa, her cleavage showing just enough to grab any normal man's attention. Y/n knew the act well, she'd used it once or twice to get free drinks when she was in college, and she knew that Shota would only fall for hers. Though, all the logic in the world didn't matter when she was already so far gone with liquor. So she tugged the bottom of her shirt down, the line of her breast becoming more pronounced as she leaned over the man she loved, "Mm, hey, Shota. Are you doing okay?

He smiled and she could see his concentration as he was trying to avoid peeking at her chest, "Your martini, love, it's been done for a minute."

"Thank you!" Y/n hugged his face into her cleavage, glaring at the woman but keeping her voice sweet, "You're not bored are you?"

Aizawa shook his head, "My phone is keeping me in enough company. And Mic might swing by with Midnight if he gets a chance."

For the life of him Aizawa couldn't understand why Y/n was acting so out of pocket in public. She wasn't a horny or flirty drunk, just laughed and joked a lot. He chopped it up to the vibe the female group had and dropped it from his mind. That didn't stop Y/n from swaying her ass as she walked away and it didn't stop Shota from staring, either.

"I think maybe she's had one too many." The bartender laughed, it was fake and dripping with nasty intentions, but Aizawa didn't care to notice. He just shook his head and said he'd stop her when she was at her limit.

The woman tried again, leaning over and talking to the man as he scrolled through his phone. He seemed uninterested, and he was, but she wasn't dissuaded.

"Seems like she can't hold her liquor. Look at her, she's gonna fall off the stage like that." She giggled, trying to sound as cute as she could to Shota.

Aizawa only turned when his name was being screamed through the karaoke microphone by his girlfriend and her new companions. "Come on over here!" He shook his head, causing Y/n to pout.

Y/n was furious. She wanted to spend the night with him, but it appeared that he wanted to be close to the skank behind the counter. And for what? A smaller waist line and heavier makeup?

She didn't care. The girls around her cheered as she chugged a random man's drink and continued with her singing. She had a plan to make him see her. It wasn't until the bartender commented on Y/n that Shota noticed her sitting on a man's lap. She was laughing with him, smiling as he handed her a drink that she quickly downed. Shota didn't know what he was feeling in his chest, anger and something else. He simply paid the tab and rushed to grab his woman before the guy got the wrong idea. Or any idea.

"Shota!" Y/n sang, her arms reaching out like she was a child, "Meet my new friend, he's a pro hero, too. Isn't that neat?"

He grunted, yanking his girl from the strangers grip and walking out of the bar. She whined as the cold wind touched her alcohol warmed skin, prompting Aizawa to cover her with his jacket.

Once in their shared home Y/n wandered through the house, her clothes falling to the ground as she went. Shota rolled his eyes, picking them up while he tailed after her. He'd just cleaned the place that day.

"So, was she as pretty as me? Did she talk real soft and gentle to you?" Y/n laid on the bed without getting dressed, "Was her chest nice while it was in your face?"

For once she caught her boyfriend sideways, "What are you talking about? You were the one on another man's lap. Do you know how angry that makes me?"

She scoffed, rolling into her back and glaring at him, her words slurring together as she tried to be angry with him. Aizawa could only shake his head and listen to the unhinged lecture. When Y/n was done and had buried her face back into her pillow, her body shaking with sobs from what she thought had happened, Shota rummaged through the closet to get her night clothes.

"I didn't understand a thing you just said, love, but I hardly noticed whatever advances you think she was making." He whispered, putting her sleep pants snuggly around her hips, rubbing them carefully to get her attention, "I was there to make sure you didn't drink too much and to bring you home. Not to be flirty with anyone else but you."

Y/n jerked upward, hauling the grown man into the bed beside her. Even impaired so badly she could fight off anyone, "For me? With me?"

He couldn't contain the smile and slight chuckle, kissing the top of her head, "Only for you. And stay off the other guys, if you plan on getting jealous just put yourself on me. I was too close to rocking his shit when you downed his drink."

Y/n laughed before burying herself under the blankets and falling asleep. She was his whole world and he wasn't above fighting a random man for petty reasons.

[rosejigglypuff76]

Cookie Run Kimura AU - Chapter 7 (Preview)

Author's Note

My deepest apologies for being unable to write for a while. Due to me being busy with a lot of writing for my 2nd Term of my 1st Year of College I ended up getting a bad case of Writer's Block, due to my mind becoming mentally exhausted from various homework and projects. 😅🎀

Luckily the 2nd Term of my 1st Year recently finished a few days ago, and I'll be returning to my 1st Year's 3rd Term this coming May 8. But in the meantime, I'll try my best to complete Chapter 7 for my Cookie Run Kimura AU!

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Cookie Run Kimura AU 🪴 Episode 7 (Preview) - Full Experimental Alchemist 🧪

Grandmaster Hotel, Sparkling's Juice Bar Wednesday, 5:41pm  in the Afternoon

"Hehe!! I supposed that was one dance within the starlights!", Herb politely chuckled while watching the reel that Sparkling posted on his Instagraham Page (Cookie Instagram Page) that ended up getting a lot of views within the first few hours alone.

As promised, Vampire sent the video he recorded on his phone to Sparkling. With the blonde teen himself both posting it and also adding the red-haired teen as a collaborator of the aforementioned reel.

"Wow! And it's crazy that you and Rockstar chose to stop the crowd from betting on either of you!", Cherry Blossom pouted in disappointment, "You won that match yet…"

Sparkling served the usual drinks to the rest of his friends, ending with serving Cherry Blossom her usual Sakura Milkshake. He sighed before replying with, "Even if Rockstar won instead of me, we both had the same idea regardless of the outcome. That being that there shouldn't be any bets, and that in the end we chose to dance for fun and sincere enjoyment."

"That's one reasonable and truly humble answer, Sparkling. It's cruel to see that there's not many cookies who have just as logical of a mindset as you, Herb, Cream Puff, and most of the cookies here...", Cocoa Butter (Dark Choco) calmly joined in the conversation as he drew on his calligraphy sketchbook.

The dark-haired teen gave an oblivious Cherry Blossom one silent side eye, drawing a quick sketch of one cute blue bear jelly plushie. The one that Herb won for him earlier in the arcade, which is also sitting right in front of him on the table.

Mango showed one big warmhearted smile, giggling at the amount of fun his friends are having. At the moment he was writing down the remaining few things on his notes from his phone, listing down everything the Student Council needs to do for the Science Fair.

"That looks like a lot of work that you wrote down.", Cream Puff spoke, taking a small little peek on Mango's list and overall sets of notes, "Working hard as ever, I see! Hehe!"

The young Student Council President himself nodded, double checking if there's anything that he needs to add or remove. Smiling kindly with complete satisfaction and happiness, "Everything is written down, and assigned the required things for each of us to do. Each is given a couple of tasks that's best suited for the five of us, both as individuals and as a team!"

One thing led to more chain reactions within the Blooming Friend Group. Most of them involve Herb and Sparkling offering their help to Mango and Cream Puff. A couple of times would have Cocoa Butter give some ideas as well, and Cherry Blossom followed along every so often.

Vampire would join in at times, recommending what the Student Council can do to promote the event in the Lotte World Tower and even make the event more widespread but reasonably limited to those in Cookie Biscuit City for a less stressful but amazing day.

That's when another idea sparked up in Mango's mind, "Hey Vampire? You're the Leader of the Science Club right?"

"Of course, Mango!", Vampire kindly replied, "If you need more help for the Science Fair, you can come to me or any of the members."

"I actually was about to ask!", the upbeat blonde cheered at the easy-going redhead, "WellyouseeweareveryopentobothofferinghelpandalsoreceivinghelpfromeveryonebothcookiesandcreaturesalikesoifyouarefinewithisitokayifyouandtheScienceClubhelpusoutwiththeScienceFairnextweek?"

"Let's just say everyone has that "Chibi Awe Face", that originated from those iconic Cookie Run Kingdom Korean Videos!", Herb thought to himself (and you) the moment Mango spoke that fast.

It took at least a few or so seconds until everyone was able to process what Mango just said. Ironically he's still easy to understand despite talking in one breath at times due to excitement.

"Mango? Is it okay if you talk a little slower please?", Cream Puff asked, blushing in embarrassment for her fellow Student Council member and silly-sweet love.

Mango blushed in embarrassment as well, chuckling with the same embarrassed look but was reassuring nonetheless, "Heh heh! Sorry about that Cream Puff. I guess it was hard for you guys to understand when I spoke that fast."

Vampire shook his head with reassurance, "Well actually, we understood what you said Mango. But we also don't want you to say it all in one breath, for your safety."

"Ah!", Mango showed a "Chibi Awe Face" of his own, kindly understanding the situation and in full agreement, "I'll try my best to keep that in mind. Thanks for telling me, heh heh!"

Everyone had a nice fun laugh, simply enjoying the times they have with each other and just in general having a great amount of fun times.

Needless to say, the red-haired boy eventually responded to the slightly younger of the two blonde teens in the room, "From what you mentioned Mango, that sounds like a great idea! I'll make sure that-!"

*beep boop*

Vampire briefly jumped out of his seat the moment he felt a sudden buzzing sound in his pocket. Calming down almost in an instant though, before proceeding to pull his phone out. Getting a recent notification of someone sending him a text message.

He sat there for a couple of seconds reading the text he was sent, before giving one deep but calmly chill sigh, "Sorry guys. But my little sister wants me to help her with something urgent at home."

*SWOOSH!!!*

It was ironically followed by Vampire putting down his payment for his drink at the counter, before immediately dashing out of the Juice Bar like his life depended on it.

This raised a bunch of eyebrows for the rest of the Blooming Friend Group. Both confused and worried of what urgent thing Alchemist texted Vampire moments prior to him bolting out of the Juice Bar. Of course, Sparkling and Herb are the most concerned. But Cream Puff was even more concerned and even scared for Vampire, "Is it just me… Or did Vampire look like he was hiding how afraid he's currently feeling about that text message Alchemist sent to him…?"

[theorchidfestival]

Setting the Scene

I wrote a little snippet to help set the scene for the festival, featuring Leander and my OC, Lavinia. It's suggestive but not explicit and contains some light temperature play. Hopefully it helps get those creative juices flowing!

The streets of Amaryllis District were bustling, full of color and life in celebration of the Orchid Festival. While there were many faces that Lavinia recognized either from her shop or the Wet Wick, there were many more that she'd never seen before, even some that, based on their choice of jewelry, seemed not to be from Lowtown at all. At least, she tried to focus on the faces, as looking anywhere else made her blush. Never before had she seen so much exposed skin in a public place! Everywhere she looked, people expressed their festive spirits with various levels of colorful dress: harnesses, chains, dyed feathers, black leather. Lavinia felt out of place walking down the street in her light blue sundress, even though she'd made the bold--for her comfort level--move of not wearing her corset underneath the dress.

She looked at Leander, who was dressed somewhat more casually in a sleeveless top and pants, and wondered how he usually dressed for this event when not trying to make her feel more comfortable. Was he an underwear and body paint type? Or did he prefer leather? Her imaginings occupied her long enough that she almost stepped in puddle of suspicious composition, saved only by Leander who tugged her by the hand he was holding to avoid it.

Once the puddle was avoided, Leander glanced down at her with a smile. "Distracted?" he asked.

Perhaps one day she would become immune to his smile, though she hoped not. Focused on where she was stepping, Lavinia felt herself blush, her mouth pressed into a slight pout. "It's just...a lot to take in is all. We have the Feast of Life in Stiving too, but it's...different."

At this, he laughed that musical laugh of his. "I'm sure it is!" he said. "Even in the rest of Eridia it's different, just a celebration of fertility honoring the Allmother. But Amaryllis District has taken it a step further."

That was an understatement! As unusual as the festival seemed to be, Lavinia supposed she could see the logical progression. Even back in Stiving where the Feast of Life was celebrated primarily by spending the day eating, drinking, and dancing, she knew it was tradition for many to make love to their special someone. It made sense that that particular tradition would flourish somewhere like Amaryllis District. What really surprised her was how the holiday itself had warped from a celebration of fertility to one of free love. And it lasted a week! It was fascinating!

"So what all does this whole thing entail?" Lavinia asked as they strolled down the street. Among the crowd were people passing out little flyers and advertising the special shows and events being put on by the local brothels and bars. On either side of the road, vendors had set up stalls. Some sold food such as novelty treats shaped like various body parts, foods that were meant to improve sexual desire or stamina, herbs and teas meant to increase or decrease fertility, and even something called a pineapple that was supposed to make certain body fluids taste sweeter. Other vendors sold toys and accessories meant to be used during the act, like lingerie, special ropes, and any number of things she'd never seen before the use of which she could only guess at.

As she finished her question, one stall in particular caught her eye. The vendor was apparently a glass blower, her wares all manner of shapes and colors that sparkled in the sunlight.

"Anything you want it to." Leander looked at her only to notice what had drawn her attention.

She didn't need to ask before he was steering her over to the glassblower's stall. There was just enough room for the two of them and the couple of other people who were already there to browse the beautifully-made toys. In spite of herself, Lavinia found herself drawn to the shelves of dildos. She would have expected the primary difference to be in size, but that was only one of many. There were different types of curvature, for one. But there were also bumps and ridges and bulges and different colors.

One in particular caught her eye. It had a bulbous head with a red flower inside of it. A green ridge spiraled down the outside of the shaft ending just above the base where there were little bumps. In terms of size, it reminded her of Leander, which made it that much more perfect.

Leander, who was standing close behind her with his hands affectionately rubbing her upper arms, followed her gaze to the toy she seemed to like. Sensing her hesitation to pick it up, he reached over her shoulder to grab it himself. As he held it in front of her, it began to glow with a swirling, green light that she recognized as his magic.

"Leander, what are you--?"

Before she could finish her question, he touched the glass head against her shoulder. It was cold--not cold enough to hurt, but cold enough that it felt nice given the warm weather as he slowly dragged the implement down her shoulder, then down to her clavicle. Lavinia leaned back against Leander and let her eyes flutter shut. Her breathing became heavier, and she lost herself to the sensation of cold glass against her skin.

Just as the glass inched down past the neckline of her dress, they were interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat.

"Can I help you?" The voice of the glassblower startled Lavinia back to reality. Embarrassed, she looked away, her cheeks red as she muttered an apology.

Leander, who she imagined was also blushing, laughed awkwardly. "We'll take this one!"

[tdoong15]

hello again after u talked about Stanley cups I deiced to make a middleSMC, seeing these cups online on TikTok or instagram and then telling there mommas about them and forcing them to buy them and taking them everywhere and drinking coffee "water because they dont drink coffee" and being just normal youth ya know hope you doing well, am fine started my internship and its going good, tho there was a snow storm here today so that sucked by anyways

have a sana

Hiiii I'm doing well. That's really cool that you've been able to start your internship I hope it goes really well for you. Also it snowed a lot where I was thankfully it cleared up for me.

Middle!SMC. CGs!Sahyo

Warnings: none

Stanley cups

Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu were in their room scrolling through TikTok initially to find either funny or relatable videos which they could share to one another, until Dahyun spotted a video which reminded her of what she was meant to say at breakfast but she forgot about it. “Have you guys seen those Stanley Cups? I've been wanting one for ages now.” Dahyun showed Chaeyoung and Tzuyu a picture of what she was talking about. “Of course we've seen them, we don't live under a rock, Dubu.” Chaeyoung commented since she's also been wanting one. “Yeah we've seen them Dahyunnie. And we want them too” Tzuyu said whilst looking at her phone.

“Well if we all want them then why don't we ask our moms?” Chaeyoung questioned because it's the most logical and obvious thing to do. “Because they'll say no, trust me I've tried.” Dahyun said with a sigh until she had an idea. “Tzu, could you tell mom and eomma about them instead of me or Chaeng?” Dahyun leaned over so Tzuyu was looking at her. “Wait why me?!” Tzuyu asked in confusion about why the others couldn't just annoy their moms until they caved in. “You're like their baby so they'll let you get anything regardless of the price. Duh.” Chaeyoung responded, which Dahyun quickly agreed to.

Tzuyu was about to argue with Dahyun and Chaeyoung but she weighed out her options, in the end she ended up choosing the option of telling her mommas about getting the Stanley Cups. “Fine, I'll ask them”. Tzuyu stood up and she began walking to the living room, Dahyun and Chaeyoung were right behind her because they wanted to instantly know the verdict. “Mom, eomma can me, Chae and Dahyunnie have Stanley Cups? They're, like, really good and they won't spill.” Tzuyu asks with a slight pout to further enhance the chance of her getting what she wants.

Sana and Jihyo looked at each other and then at Tzuyu. “Okay you three can get the cups.” Sana says with a smile, the school meal club cheered that they were now able to get what they've been wanting for weeks now. So with that Sana and Jihyo were being dragged to the store but they didn't say anything about it because they wouldn't want to make Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu upset or annoyed at them.

When they reached the store, the maknae line went speeding off to where the cups were. “Girls don't run too far away!” Jihyo shouts and she runs after them since she was very protective over the 3 girls. “Don't worry eomma, we're only here.” Dahyun says whilst she's rummaging through the cups until she finds one she likes. “How much are these by the way?” Sana questioned and the school meal club quickly covered up where the prices were. “Oh they're only $15.” Tzuyu lies but she was easily caught since she had never been good at lying no matter how hard she tried.

“We won't be mad, since we did agree to buy them for you three. So just tell us the prices.” Jihyo explains in order to reassure the girls, which it did and Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu moved out of the way and they pointed out the price to Sana and Jihyo. When they saw how much the Stanley Cups were each, to say that they were shocked was an understatement. “$50?! For a water bottle?!” Sana basically shouts but she didn't complain much since she already agreed to pay for them.

“Yeah, but these are the best at keeping things cold.” Chaeyoung counteracts and she grabs the one she thought looked the best in her opinion, Tzuyu did the same. Jihyo just sighed heavily and she paid for them and the girls promised that they'll never break them. DaChaeTzu, showed off their Stanley Cups to everyone because they simply felt like it and when they got home they didn't fill their cups up with water, which it's typically used for, they instead filled them up with iced coffee since it would “be more ideal for rehearsal”. Throughout the rest of the day the girl took extra care of their cups and used it whenever they needed to.

Also have a Sana back